Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of this work of fiction, and no profit, monetary or otherwise, is being made through this.

He was ten the first time he experienced the 'pull' as he'd grown to call it. The desire he had to 'fix' others.

His mother called it compassion. His sister deemed it a weakness, and right now, he couldn't agree more.

He hadn't chosen good, strong, settled people to be part of his pack. He'd gone after lonely, hurting, angry teenagers, hoping that the gift he had for them - the bite - would make them better. That he could 'fix' everything that was wrong with their lives with a single, well-placed bite, while helping himself.

It hadn't worked like that though, and now he was fighting a battle that he could not win, while the kids he'd chosen were lost and hurting, and aside from their supernatural abilities, back to where they'd started. He hadn't fixed a damn thing for any of them. If anything, he'd made things worse for them.

Maybe it was because he'd acted out of anger, his anchor for the past six years, instead of the compassion his mother had praised and encouraged in him when he'd been a child.

He remembered bringing home a dead bird once, and demanding that his father, "Make it better."

When his father explained that he couldn't help the bird, that the creature's death couldn't be reversed, he hadn't believed him and he hid the bird. For two weeks he tried his hardest to 'fix' it. But no matter how long he laid his hand upon the bird, it didn't get any better and it began to reek of death. He would probably never have given up if the bird hadn't disappeared one day. He knew now that his mother or father had disposed of the bird, and that it was foolish to attempt to save something that was dead or dying.

But, at the age of ten, he was heartbroken, and inconsolable. He'd even cried over the loss of the bird, refusing to talk to his parents or siblings for weeks afterwards.

Soon, though, school had started up, and Derek forgot about the bird that he couldn't save. He focused his time and energy on schoolwork and friends.

There was a little boy who was younger than the rest of the kids in kindergarten, and Derek had often seen the other kids tease him. The thing that drew his attention, however, was not the teasing, but rather how the little boy never seemed to let it bother him. He always had a smile on his face, or a clever word to say, and he was like a little ball of energy - always moving.

It was distracting and unnerving, but Derek was also drawn to the little boy. He wanted to share in his, 'sunshine,' his mother had called it when he'd tried to explain his attraction to the little boy. She'd assured him that it was perfectly normal for him to want to make friends with a child who radiated such positive energy.

His father had agreed. But Derek knew that fifth graders weren't supposed to mix with kindergarteners. He'd be laughed at, or teased like the little boy, and he didn't want that. So, he contented himself with watching him from a safe distance, making sure that he was alright, that if he got knocked down, he got right back up.

Now he knows what it was that he was feeling toward the boy, protective. And in his current, adult understanding of werewolf dynamics and relationships, he knows that protective feelings are reserved for family, pack, or mates.

And, the little boy he'd helped twelve years ago couldn't be categorized as any of those things. At least he couldn't at the time when the boy was only four years old.

Now, however, it's a different matter entirely. The boy is sixteen. He still has a smart mouth, bright smile, and charismatic personality. And he is a pain in the ass. Always questioning and helping out when he shouldn't be.

It's enough to drive Derek mad and he wonders what advice his parents would have for him now. Would they tell him that his attraction to the teen is normal, that his desire and 'pull' to protect the boy is natural? Would they approve if they knew that his need to find the lost boy superseded everything else, including pack? Or would they be as lost and perplexed as he is?

Human boys do not make good family, pack or mate material. They are far too...human. They are more often than not afraid of werewolves, and Stiles is no different than the rest of the human race in that regard.

Stiles trier with humor, but his heart always tells the truth - stopping briefly whenever Scott or Isaac or he enters a room unannounced, only to flutter, like a hummingbird's wings, seconds later. The boy is terrified, as he should be, and yet, he still helps them, showing that selfsame bravery he had at the age of four.

Reviews would be greatly appreciated, if you're so inclined (they keep me going). Thanks