What was a teenage boy to do? His best friend, Scott McCall, was a werewolf. Not just any werewolf, no, he was a werewolf secretly dating a girl who, of all people, belonged to a family of hunters which, lucky for him, happened hunt werewolves for a living. Meanwhile, Derek Hale, now the new hot-headed Alpha male, was recruiting pack members to prepare for war against the hunters, which didn't sound good in the slightest since he was risking the lives of random high school kids that Stiles happened to know, like Isaac, Erica and Boyd. Great, thought the high school student as he tossed a baseball up towards the ceiling of his room, catching it in his hand as gravity brought it back down. So there's definitely going to be some bloodshed, that's something to look forward to.On top of all that, Stiles still wondered how he would ever get Lydia to notice him again and maybe, if luck was on his side, go out with her just one time. Oh, and he still had to get Danny to answer his question. He needed a definite yes or no whether or not he was attractive to gay men.

A knock at the door of his room interrupted Stiles' train of thought, catching the teen's attention. "Come in," he said as he sat up on his bed. From behind the door appeared his father, Sheriff Stilinski, a weary smile on his aging face as he entered the room.

With a wave of his hand he greeted the boy. "Morning son! You heading out today? Anything your old man should know about?"

"Uh I'm not doing much today, just hanging out with Scott ya know, the usual," replied Stiles who then asked, "You working the night shift tonight again?"

After watching the older man sigh heavily, Stiles already knew the answer. Sometimes he wished his father would quit his job, like now would be a reallygood time. Lately it's been very dangerous to just go wandering in the woods, what with the supernatural crawling around at every turn. Though Stiles has wanted to educate his father on the dangers of this new species many times he goes against it in the end, figuring it would be better if his father remained in the dark and so his old man wouldn't consider placing him in the nearest psych ward unless he provided hard evidence. So yeah, it was dangerous and there's not a day where Stiles fears of getting that dreaded phone call or having one of his Dad's comrades arrive at his door with the bad news. He couldn't bear to lose his dad too. Pushing the thought to the back of his head abruptly he tuned back in with reality just in time to hear his father clear his throat. "Sorry Stiles," he started off with his usual apology, "But duty calls. You know I would rather be watching the lacrosse game tonight but . . . I just can't. I'll make it up-

"No Dad, it's fine really! I-I was just wondering," Stiles blurted out in a rushed way. He took a deep breath before adding slowly in a gentler tone, "Just be careful and don't tire yourself, okay?"

"You got it champ," replied the sheriff with a serene smile. "Good luck in the game tonight. You know I'm proud of you son!"

"Yeah, thanks Dad," Stiles mumbled and with that his father left, the door shutting behind him as the teen was left alone once more to indulge himself with whatever he could. Should he hit Scott up and head to the bowling alley? At first it sounded like a good plan but then Stiles realized that lately inviting Scott meant that little Miss Allison was bound to tag along to spend time with the boy her father specifically told her to stay away from, with a nice death threat on the side might he add. Damn rebellious love struck teenagers . . .

Anyway the last thing he wanted to do was watch them make-out, clearly being the third wheel and all. Inviting Lydia would be a lost cause because just being around her made it certain he was bound to say something stupid and lower his chances of ever getting a date with her. She's probably not over Jackson yet anyway so being the rebound guy was kind of a slim chance now, if not impossible. Rolling over so that his face ended up buried in one of his pillows the teen let out a low hoarse groan. How was he going to kill time before the game tonight?

A heavy growl emitted from his stomach then as if to be an answer to his dilemma. Breakfast it is then, Stiles concluded. In seconds, the boy was making his way down to the kitchen, still in his pajamas which consisted of a white t-shirt and SpongeBob Squarepants boxer. Upon reaching the refrigerator he swung the door open, his hands immediately reaching for the gallon of milk on the top shelf and the carton of eggs in the middle. Closing the door shut he was about to make his way over to the counter when a figure suddenly appeared behind. The teen jumped at the sight of the trespasser, milk and eggs flying out of his hands and landing with a thud and cracks against the tiled floor. "Holy— Derek!"

Across the room from Stiles stood the Alpha male himself, Derek Hale, in his usual attire and an infamous stoic facial expression that went so well with his stalker-like demeanor.

"Damn it! Ever heard of knocking?" Stiles complained as he hurriedly cleaned up the mess of eggs and puddle of milk forming on the floor. There goes breakfast,Stiles sighed as he frowned at the Alpha while grabbing a hand full of paper towels. "What could you possibly want this early on a Saturday? It's the weekend man, chill out, take a break. Do something other make my life miserable."

"The hunters aren't taking a break, neither will I," replied Derek in a low growl, his once green eyes suddenly glowing a vibrant red as if to remind the latter who he was speaking to.

"Okay! Fighting the man right? Yeah you go . . . stick it to them then," muttered Stiles as he placed what was left of the milk in the refrigerator and tossed the remains of eggshells into the garbage, avoiding eye contact at all cost. The Alpha still remained in his spot, the frown on his face unwavering. An awkward silence drifted between the two then, Stiles' eyes always looking around the kitchen, connecting with Derek's for a split second only to quickly glance away. He licked his lips nervously as he let out a shaky breath. After bulking up enough courage, he asked the Alpha, "So you're not here for just a pep talk right?"

Derek snorted at the teen as he gently ran his fingers over the marble counter. "As if I would ask for advice from some high school nerd who can't even get a girlfriend."

"Oh so you're here to make fun of me! Great!" Stiles muttered under his breath, "Ironic coming from the werewolf who dated the girl responsible for burning mostof his family to death."

"You wanna run that by me again?" Derek growled viciously, fangs descending as the werewolf stomped his way over to Stiles who, in turn, was already spitting apologies as he backed into a corner, arms crossed over his head to give him little protection. Derek could practically smell the fear oozing off his quivering body, the quickening of his heart beat as the Alpha closed in on him, towering and threatening in his stature. Beating the smart aleck within an inch of his life would be so simple and quick, Derek was sure he could pull it off without breaking a sweat and he has considered it more than once. However, the hyperactive teen has proven to be a very useful resource and with the war coming Derek realized killing him wouldn't benefit anyone. Truth was Derek still needed more pack members to even stand a chance against those blasted hunters; or rather he needed a certain teen wolf. Gripping the latter's wrist tightly, he whispered, "Look you're going to do me a favor and if you don't, I'll break every bone in your body. Got it?"

"I got it- got you- . . . Oh God losing feeling!" Stiles rambled as he nodded his head frantically, biting back the hot tears that were forming in his eyes from the sharp pain. Derek's grip suddenly disappeared and Stiles let out a sigh of relief as he massaged his wrist, red marks left on his skin from the Alpha.

"You are going to convince a friend of yours to join my pack," Derek explained straightforwardly as he headed towards the front door. Before taking his leave, he looked back at the other boy and warned him, "Don't keep me waiting too long either or I'll have to pay you another visit."

In the blink of an eye he disappeared then, just like that, leaving Stiles to contemplate over what had just happened. Of all the rotten luck, Stiles deadpanned mentally. Well now he definitely had something to kill time with, the little time he had left.

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

"What are you planning now, Dad?" questioned the son of Mr. Argent as he watched the older man fiddle with needle contraptions and arrows in the comfort of the Argents' living room. Mr. Argent merely smiled at his son but Chris could see the dark intentions hidden behind that simple smile the second the older man returned his gaze to the weapons before him. "Dad," called Chris with no affection for the other whatsoever in his tone.

"Look, I'm only doing what I can to protect those close to me," Mr. Argent stated, his voice hard and eyes cold. "They took my daughter. They're not getting to you and your family too, I won't let them. Now just let your father take care of things."

"I can provide my family with more than enough protection," Chris spat as he stood next to his father, angry flashing through his icy blue eyes. Picking up what seemed to be a tranquilizer, he examined it between his fingertips, a small tube towards the back. Curious he pressed the tip of the needle against the table and to his surprise it split into four thin claws while in the center a thinner needle appeared and all were digging into the wood deeply. To imagine something, or rather someone being hit by this thing . . .

Holding the weapon up, Chris asked, "So what exactly are you planning with this here?"

Mr. Argent gave a small laugh before taking the object into his own hands. "Ever heard of a Seeker son? It's an old legend of ours."

"I remember you mentioning it once or twice. You said Seekers were people who could find and track down werewolves, maybe even an entire pack. You also mentioned there hasn't been a Seeker present for centuries. Where are you going with this?"

"Well the reason Seekers are no longer used is because . . . of the procedure one must go through to get them. Seekers are made, not found," Mr. Argent explained in a sort of mesmerized state. Blinking once he let out a deep breath as he slouched into the couch, placing the tranquilizer back on the table and resumed cleaning his hunter rifle. "A Seeker is probably very rare to find but I'm sure there's one dormant here in Beacon Hills. We just need to find him . . . or her.

"You see son, to find a seeker you must first obtain the blood of a werewolf but in our case this can't just be any old werewolf we find on the streets. No, no, what I want is the blood of the Alpha, that way we get the best results out of this."

"Get the blood of the Alpha then you'll always know where he and his pack is," Chris explained more so to himself.

"Exactly," Mr. Argent said with an approving smile. "Know where the leader is, know where the pack is, pick a day to track them all down and they're like sitting ducks waiting to be slaughtered. Oh it'll truly be a glorious day when we rid Beacon Hills of those vermin."

"So you get the blood of the Alpha then what? You place it in one of these," Chris motioned towards the tranquilizers, "And just shoot some random person with it?"

"That's basically the idea son," Mr. Argent revealed. "The only problem with this whole process is that if the person's body rejects the blood, they might fall into a coma state and in the worst case scenario-

"Worst case scenario? As if the possibility of falling into a coma isn't bad enough?" Chris retorted, not believing his own father would just risk lives of the innocent so easily.

"Well a coma sounds better than death, don't you think?" Mr. Argent pointed out blankly with a half-smile that made the son begin to worry. There wasn't something right in that smile. The death of his only daughter may have done more damage than Chris could ever understand. "Oh don't fret over it. I'll handle everything. You have absolutely nothing to worry about."

In that instant, there was a thud from upstairs, like someone had just entered the house from a window. Before Chris could run off to fight the trespasser his father ordered him stopped him. "Calm yourself, I just invited a friend. You can come out now, Artemis."

Chris scanned the room quickly to find this person, only to look up just in time to see said person land gracefully on her feet after hopping over the railing on the second floor. She had dark caramel skin with kinky dark brown hair held back in a tight bun, only few stray curls left out to frame her heart-shaped as she looked to his father with hazelnut eyes. She carried a hunter bow and arrows strapped to her back, an archer like his daughter Allison although this girl appeared to be just as young, if not younger.

Mr. Argent smiled brightly at the girl as he gestured her over to them. He introduced the two then, speaking of the girl in a somewhat proud tone. "I'd like you to meet Artemis Wilson. She'll be staying here in California to help us out for a while. She'll also be attending Beacon High as a sophomore and you know, help provide some extra protection for Allison."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Argent," Artemis addressed Chris with a hand held out in greeting. Chris hesitated, noticing how her face remained straight, no expression of fear or any emotion at all for that matter. When his father began to eye him suspiciously Chris shook her hand in return. Little did the three know that their conversation wasn't so private for a certain young Argent had been eavesdropping on them, huddled against the railway of stairs that lead to the front door, remaining silent.

"A Seeker?" Allison mouthed to herself, a finger ghosting over her pink glossed lips in thought. This was something she should definitely look into and mention to Scott as soon as possible. Creeping up the stairs quietly, Allison headed back to her bedroom.

Meanwhile Mr. Argent smiled at the handshake exchange between the two, patting his son and Artemis on the back. "See, we're all comrades here. We should help each other out. Now there's just one question I need to ask you Chris."

Though not completely on broad with the Seeker idea, Chris ignored his own concerns and simply said, "What?"

Mr. Argent gripped his son's shoulder and squeezed lightly as the question slipped pass his lips. "Which of Allison's little friends knows about those wretched wolves?"

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

How hard could it be to convince a sixteen year old teen wolf to team up with Derek Hale?

"Hell no Stiles, over my dead body," Scott retorted while he pulled a shirt over his head.

"Well actually it'll be over my dead body if you don't agree!" Stiles whispered harshly. Taking his best friend by the shoulder, he made Scott look at him before explaining his situation in a rush. "Look, Derek threatened to break ever bone in my body if I don't get you in his pack. Could you at least pretend to agree for my sake? And don't try to promise you'll protect me from him because I'm gonna need protection 24/7 from that overgrown dog and since you spend half of your time with Allison—

"Wait, what does Allison have to do with this?" Scott asked suddenly, his eyes narrowing slightly at his best friend.

"All I'm saying is that I'm pretty much on my deathbed here but you might be a little too preoccupied screwing around with Allison to notice," Stiles spat back, regretting the words that had slipped out of his mouth in that instant but by then it was too late. Ouch. By the deep frown that appeared on Scott's lips Stiles knew the damage was done. With regret written all over his face Stiles stuttered, "Look man I- I- didn't m-m-mean what I sa-

"No man, I heard you loud and clear," Scott said in a dull tone. He gathered his lacrosse gear then before abruptly leaving his room with Stiles following close behind. Making their way towards the front door, they passed by Ms. McCall who mumbled a small greeting as she was completely ignored. Rushing to keep up with his best friend, Stiles tried to come up with a good apology because now was not the time for them to be arguing. The sound of Scott's cellphone ringtone going off caught their attention and brought the duo to a sudden halt. Catching sight of the caller ID, Stiles wondered who would be calling from a blocked number. Scott raised an eyebrow and glanced at his pal who merely shrugged his shoulders. Hitting the green phone button to pick up, Scott held the phone against his ear and waited for a voice to speak from the other end.

"Scott," Allison called through the receiver, urgency clear in her voice. "Scott, it's me. We need to talk."

Scott's eyes widened slightly. "Allison?"

Now too busy speaking with his girlfriend, Scott didn't notice his best friend roll his eyed dramatically at the mention of her name and mouthing the words 'Of course'. Completely oblivious, Scott asked, "What's up? Is there something wrong? Are you in trouble or something?"

"No but we've got some trouble heading our way," Allison revealed before pausing. She scanned her surroundings and listened intently for any signs of certain people who might be eavesdropping nearby. Rushing, she finished up. "Just pick a time and we'll meet up at the usual spot, okay? I've gotta go now."

"Okay, see you later." Scott hit the end button then. Looking at Stiles, he repeated the message back. "Allison wants to talk. It sounded urgent. Got any idea what she might want to talk about?"

Stiles shrugged his shoulders again at a lost for an explanation. He licked his lips and pressed them into a thin line before asking, "Well did she give you any clues or hints on the subject?"

Scott shook his head before continuing their walk to Stiles' Jeep. As they settled in the front seat with their gear tossed in the back, Scott mentioned, "Just so you know, I'm still mad at you."

"Yeah, I figured that." Stiles admitted with a small laugh before placing the car key in the ignition. The Jeep roared to life then and proceeded down the gravel road. "Look my best guess is whatever trouble Allison was referring probably has something to do with werewolves as usual."

"Is there anything lately that doesn't have to do with werewolves?" Scott groaned.

"Well there's the homework you never do," Stiles hinted at in a joking way as he turned the wheel of the car. The Jeep made a slow turn along the road as it rode by another block of houses in the afternoon sunlight. Scott stifled a laugh at his friend's comment trying to hold a grudge for as long as he could, alas his smile gave him away.

"Speaking of homework, how do you keep up with yours anyway?"

"Well when you're not a werewolf and you've been single for the past eighteen years with no girlfriend what so ever, you know just a plain boring-unsociable-hyperactive-hormone-raging teen, you find ways to try to kill some time, ya know," Stiles rambled on. "You do your homework and pass your classes."

Scott couldn't control his laughter this time. "So what I'm hearing is you need a girl right?"

Stiles glanced at his friend and nodded solemnly. "Guilty is charged but you gotta feel some sympathy for me."

"Okay, yea but you're the one who only has eyes for Lydia. I mean there's a big opening now that Jackson and her broke up," Scott pointed out.

Stiles sighed as his eyes settled back on the road. "Well yeah, there's that."