The school was nearly empty and Stiles sat alone in the depths of his mystically boring art detention. He tapped his pen in a continuous, rhythmic pattern.

Tap, click, tap, click.

It was relentless.

Tap, click, tap, click.

Merciless.

Tap, click, tap, click.

"Stiles!" the teacher finally succumbed to Stiles annoyance.

"Just pretend like I didn't see you, and go." She sighed.

Stiles grinned, his irritating self gleaming with pride. He scooped his bag over his shoulder and ran out of the door.

Beacon Hills was dark and dreary to Stiles. He was bored. The thought of only having a few friends was almost scary given he was going to college soon and this sudden realisation set Stiles into autopilot. He glided down the path of the schools entrance, deep in thought. And just as quick as he switched into autopilot, Stiles was on the floor. Snapping out of his transient daze, he caught himself firmly so the fall was much lighter than it could have been. Looking up, the sun beaming in his eyes, a musty, unrecognizable face was staring down at him. Who is that?

"Stiles."

Oh god, it was Derek.

"Derek." Stiles blurted out in a mild blimp of bravery. Derek was almost taken a back when Stiles snapped back. There was a brief silence, so Stiles made his way ungracefully off the ground and jumped up on his two feet.

"What do you want Hale? Make it quick, I seriously need to get home." Stiles sighed, knowing he wasn't going to make it home. Derek always got in the way of his plans and it didn't help that he couldn't do anything about it. The last time Stiles tried to divert his attention from Derek, it ended in a heated argument and Stiles never had valid points.

"You need to come with me." Derek said simply.

"Derek. I can't." Stiles scowled, thinking of his father sitting alone around the dinner table.

"The sheriff can wait, Stiles. I'm sure he's got more to worry about than his stray son." Derek said. He began to walk off, gesturing Stiles to follow him.

He whistled, "Come on, boy."

"Hey, I'm not the only stray thing here." Stiles huffed quietly, following in diplomatic form behind him.

Derek didn't even acknowledge the Stiles was following behind him. Stiles thought, just quickly, he could sneak away and Derek wouldn't realise. Not to mention, Stiles was befuddled that they walked straight past Derek's top form sports car and they could have saved all this time by driving to wherever they were going. Stiles stopped walking abruptly and put his hands in his pockets.

"I'm going home, Hale." He muttered, looking down at his sneakers. Derek stopped and looked right at him.

"You're not going anywhere, Stilinski." He growled. "Now keep walking or I'll rip your throat out."

Literally.

Stiles knew he was obligated to continue following now, or Derek would most likely eat him alive, involuntarily. Not that anything Stiles did for Derek was voluntarily.

"Derek." Stiles spat.

Derek sauntered up to Stiles and yanked his collar, bringing Stiles' ear to his voice.

"What did I just say?"

Stiles pulled his body away from Derek.

"Fine, Hale. Just please, tell me where we are going?" Stiles sighed deep in the back of his throat. Derek began his walk again, at a repetitive rate. Stiles galloped up to speed beside him and gave him a look as if to enforce the question he just asked.

"You know it's a full moon tonight, moron." Derek chuckled lightly.

"And what's that got to do with me?" Stiles said puzzled, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"Erica, Boyd, Isaac and I need your help."

Stiles stopped walking again, Derek soon following his abrupt halt.

"Wait up a minute," Stiles began in an almost offended tone. "I have my own fluffy fur ball to look after, I don't need three more."

Derek smiled sadistically, and with that Stiles knew what was coming.

"I need someone to tie us up, Stiles."

Stiles stood and watched Derek smirk. Are you serious?

"Tie yourself up, Hale." Stiles snapped, turning his heel.

"Stiles."

There was a hint of sadness in Derek's voice, almost a need, a desire. Stiles scoffed at him, disregarding the blatant begging of Derek before him.

"Stiles, please."

"Look, Hale. I'm sick of being pushed around by you and your little, wolf friends." Stiles scowled.

"Just this once, okay?" Derek pled, "It'll only take five minutes."

"That's what you said last time!"

"I'm sorry, Stiles. You're the only one I trust."

Stiles was confused. Trust? Of all people Derek would trust, he trusted Stiles? He said nothing and walked up to Derek.

"Just this once." He said sternly, his finger raised. Derek looked deep into Stiles eyes, almost as a note of approval.

"Thank you, Stilinski." He smiled.

Derek's house was dark and gloomy. The rotting wood that formed the house was able to be crumbled at the touch. Stiles found himself frightened, realizing that he was with the Alpha that had once implemented pain onto him and his father. Let alone the fact he was about to walk into a house infested with the spineless dogs, one of whom used to capture Stiles Stilinski's heart. Erica used to be a fragile teenager, much like himself, but once Derek got to her, she turned into the most hideous of beings. It almost disgusted Stiles.

Stiles writhed in the spot, noticing that Derek had opened the door to the house, releasing broken spiderwebs.

The floorboards leading up the stairs to the basement creaked in a loud and dangerous fashion.

"I am not going to die in here." Stiles repeated to himself in a slow but sure chant. He heard Derek chuckle in front of him as he did so.

Derek's hand directed Stiles downstairs to the basement, of which smelt of rotten meat and overuse of deodorant. Stiles made his way one step at a time down the stairs, watching his feet as it proceeded to get darker and darker with each step forward.

"Erica?" Derek muttered and he turned on the light. Sure enough, standing at the base of the stairs was Erica, looking tired and worn.

"There you are. And, why is he here?" she scowled, her eyes piercing Stiles's own. That hurt Stiles. That? She once felt the same as Stiles did for her, but the bite made her a huntress, and one that would not settle for love or lust. In a matter of fact, any relationship that involved a relationship. Derek walked firmly up to Erica and provided her face with a stern slap.

"Don't talk to Stiles like that." He spat, pushing her out of the way so Stiles could follow Derek further into the basement.

Erica's face was one of disgust, but also one of pleasure. Stiles often saw Erica as a masochist, and Derek a sadist. It was very possible in Stiles's thoughts for this to be true, but maybe Erica was screwed up and Derek was just violent.

"Boyd, wake up." Derek said, shaking a relaxed, dark skinned man of whom lay solemnly on the floor. Boyd bolted upright in a matter of seconds, instantly facing his leader.

"Sorry, Hale" he mumbled, regaining the strength to stand to his feet. Stiles watched Boyd as he brushed the dust off of his tank, Boyd's fingers gliding over his top.

Snap out of it, Stiles.