Serial killers were something that grabbed headlines even in big cities. What they did to small towns was almost indescribable. Especially when not one, but two bodies were found in the same week. People were scared to leave their houses, calling the station for every bump in the dark they heard, convinced they were going to be the next victims.

John Stilinski was worried. Worried about his town and his community, but more worried for his wife and his sons. Mellissa worked nights at the hospital, leaving home in the darkness and coming home alone – he worried about her safety every night, and even started following her in his patrol car just to ensure that nothing happened. It showed just how bad things had gotten when she didn't accuse him of being too overprotective but smiled. "It's a weight off my mind." She sighed, kissing him on the cheek.

The boys too – were a worry. Jackson, oldest and by far the most confident, John worried that he would think he could 'handle' a situation and end up getting himself killed. The retired gym teacher they'd found hadn't been that old, still physically fit and old enough to know a few tricks – but the level of violence on his body had made John gag. Jackson was confident to the point of arrogance. John worried.

He worried about Scott too – because although he was young and fit, his asthma would stop him from running as fast or as far as he could, and John thought that as the middle son, he was always trying to stand out in some way from his brothers. He worried that Scott would end up like the boy they'd found, beaten to death after running for miles through the wooded reserve that curled around the town. Judging by the dirt they'd found on his shoes, he'd started at the north side. He'd been found only a few yards from his home. So near to help and yet… John worried about Scott, because he wouldn't be able to run so far before his lungs gave out. He wouldn't be able to fight.

And then there was Stiles. Stiles, who was the youngest by only 11 months – a running joke in town that there wasn't 2 years between the boys – but who thought he was invincible. John didn't put it past Stiles to try and find the monster that was doing these things. Seek him out and end up getting himself killed out of sheer hubris. John worried about Stiles more than anyone.

Stiles was bored. Jackson, his big brother – the bigger brother – was captain of the lacrosse team and overall total douchebag. All three Stilinski boys were on the team, but only one ever played – Jackson made sure that coach never picked his younger brothers to get off the bench.

"He's a douche." Stiles told Scott.

"Yeah." Scott sighed. He was nearer in age with Jackson than he was to Stiles, but much closer to his younger brother than his elder. Although Stiles should have been in the year below his brothers, he was moved up – because he was probably the closest thing to a genius that he could be with his attention span. "He's a dick."

Stiles nodded and glared at his big brother, currently grinning over at the stands after scoring yet another goal. "You ever get the feeling that they used up all the brawn on him and we got the leftovers?"

"He got the brawn, I got the beauty and you got the brains."

"Between us we can make one good person." Stiles nodded, then… "Wait! Are you saying I'm not attractive?"

"Stilinski!" Coach yelled, and three heads turned to face him. "Not you two!" He growled at the two boys on the bench. "You!" He pointed at Jackson, who was now flexing his muscles to the girls in the bleachers who swooned and fanned themselves. "Get back in position!"

"One day he's going to mean us." Scott said. "And we're going to get to play." He watched as their brother ran back – getting thumps on the back for his efforts.

"No one scores goals like Jackson." A girl behind them swooned.

"He's got muscles to spare." Another sighed. They were lucky Lydia had decided to skip this practice. Normally she'd stand behind them and cheer her boyfriend loudly, but today she was showing the new girl around.

"I'll break both his arms." Stiles supplied helpfully. "Can't play without arms – he'd have to use one of us."

"You always go right to violence, don't you?"

"Where Jackson is involved." Stiles smirked. "I think it's my duty."

Dinner in the Stilinski household was one of the things that made Stiles glad he hadn't been born into any other family. Their mom could cook, their dad could carve a roast like no one else – and every night they'd talk about whatever crossed their minds. The last couple of weeks though, their dad had been later and later home. Tonight, he wouldn't be back at all.

Stiles stabbed Jackson in the thigh with his fork when his older brother tried to steal the last of the roast potatoes, resulting in a punch to the arm that their mom saw. Luckily for Stiles she hadn't seen him stab his brother, so it was Jackson who got yelled at.

"You're dead, Maggot." Jackson hissed. "Just you wait."

"Puh-lee-se!" Stiles replied under his breath. "Remember what happened last time to started a war with me?" He could tell by the haunted look that crossed his brothers face that he did. Jackson was bigger and better at most things. He won every trophy the school gave out in sports. He was captain of the Lacrosse, Swim and Cross Country teams.

When it came to getting even though – Stiles won every time. Nair in the shampoo, itching powder in the underwear – deep heat in the jockstrap and so many more… People learned pretty quickly not to mess with Stiles Stilinski.

"When's dad getting back?" Scott asked, working his way through his over loaded plate.

"I'm not sure." Their mom sighed. "He promised he'd be back before you boys got to bed though, so remember, lock the doors and check th-"

"The windows twice." Stiles and Jackson sang together. It was a constant reminder each night. They knew it off by heart.

"Once when I leave!" Scott intoned.

"And then before bed!" Jackson added.

"Or the killer will come in and cut off your-"

"Stiles!"

Stiles shared a room with Scott because the although they kept meaning to convert the attic into a proper room, it never happened. Stiles didn't mind too much, Scott was more like his best friend than his brother. Tonight though, he wished him about a million miles away.

"She's got brown hair, and it kinda curls down." He was saying. "And when the light hits it…" He sighed.

"I was there."

"I offered her my pen because she didn't have one."

"I remember."

"She smiled at me."

"It was probably gas." Stiles shot back. There had been a new girl at school, and she sat behind Scott in history, which Stiles knew because he sat beside Scott in history. Scott seemed to have forgotten this in his new lovelorn haze. He seemed to have forgotten everything.

"Did you see how she knew the answers?" Scott sighed. "She's really smart too."

"I'm so glad to see that you're looking deeper than her complexion." Stiles sighed, going back to his computer.

"Her skins pretty good too though." Scott supplied. "She smiles like a nice person."

"So does Lydia." Stiles supplied. "Doesn't mean she's nice." Lydia Martin was probably the only person Stiles had even met who was probably smarter than he was. She was perfect in every way but one. She was dating Jackson.

"I think I saw Lydia talking to her."

Her. Her was the new girl, love of Scott's young life. Princess Charming to his Cinder-fella.

Stiles though, had more on his mind than his brothers and their love lives. There was a serial killer on the loose, and Stiles was going to make sure he was the one that found him. He'd already used his dads password – Password123. Really? He almost deserved to get hacked with that – to get all the relevant information, and he'd been hanging around the station long enough to know what people were talking about. He was the only one of the Stilinski boys who really cared about police work. Jackson was hoping to become a lawyer – making money from the misfortunes of others was totally his thing, Scott hadn't given any inclination that he'd even thought about his future, and Stiles was secretly hoping to become a superhero. If that didn't work out he was totally going to become a writer. Or an analyst for the FBI. He could totally rock the Garcia look. He looked good in glasses – and sass suited him.

However, right now, there was a serial killer on the loose and Stiles was so going to be the one that found him. Or her. Or them. Them would be cool. Them would explain the over-the-top violence and ability to chase a person on foot for miles.

So he looked into the other deaths. The girl who was found in Portland with the 'almost swastika' cut into her side. The old man in Nevada with the same carving – almost missed because of the amount of other cuts and slashes on his body. Stiles had done some research on the symbol, and the closest thing he could find was a triskelion – expect those were normally rounded. These ones, the ones on the bodies, were sharp. Stiles read the report from the police station – they thought that the edges should have been curved like the traditional triskelion, made jagged by the cuts of the knife, but Stiles thought differently.

Stiles thought they were supposed to be hard lines, straight and jagged. Other cuts had shown that the killer (or killers) were more than able to use a blade to carve a curve, but they'd kept this one mark hard and harsh. Stiles wondered if it might be a cult. Which was awesome.

John Stilinski came home to find his wife already away to work, and his sons still awake. Jackson wasn't happy about the curfew, because he couldn't hang out with his girlfriend – a firecracker of a girl who was probably more trouble than she seemed, so he didn't get a greeting from him when he opened the door. Scott normally didn't even hear him get home, too busy apply all his might to some homework – when did kids get so much homework? It seemed like it was never done – but Stiles, of course, leapt down the stairs two at a time, almost landing face first at his feet.

"Hey dad!" He grinned, too wide. Damn. He'd probably spent the night going on the internet and not looking at porn like any normal teenage boy. "How was work?"

"Long." John grunted. "Did your mom leave anything for me?"

"There's a plate in the microwave," Stiles supplied hastily, "Did you find anything else out?"

John knew that dumping his day on his youngest son wasn't the right thing to do, but if he was being honest, sometimes the kids was a lightning bolt in the brain – he said things and thought differently, and sometimes he'd be right on the money. Which was how they'd managed to find out about those break-ins a few months ago.

So he found himself telling Stiles about how the FBI were coming, and setting up base in the nearby city – he'd be leaving in the morning to listen to the profile they were setting up.

"Sweet!" Stiles grinned, drinking everything in.

It was raining, that hard constant rain that flooded the roads in a few moments and made driving in the darkness even more dangerous. The FBI meeting had been… interesting. Stiles probably would have loved it. They talked about the suspects supposed ages – it was a belief that they were working with a couple or even team of people now. He had used the handheld recorder to tape the meeting, and had it playing in his car as he drove.

They showed them on the large screen the different depth and strengths of the killing blows, highlighting that some wounds were left handed and other sloped to the right. The other wounds, the bite marks… he shuddered behind the wheel.

"It is our belief that these assailants are travelling together with a large cat – possibly a cougar or mountain lion. The bite and tearing are similar to what you may see in attacks by feral or rabid animals. The fact that they are comfortable enough to travel with an animal like this is more proof that we are dealing with more than one person. It would take a great deal of manpower to control an animal like this – especially to get one to stop feeding. It is also an option that they are using a pack of wild dogs – or fighting dogs. If you know of any dog fighting circuits, they may frequent there when arriving in a new place."

People had been taking notes like crazy, there was just so much to take in. He sighed behind the wheel, trying to keep his eyes open. It had been a long day, and the storm wasn't helping.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning shot across the sky – highlighting everything on the road in a stark, painful brightness – and a hunched figure in the road.

Slamming on the breaks, john felt the car skid on the wet road, tires gaining no traction on the slippery surface and spinning helplessly out of his control, before leaving the road entirely and slamming into a tree. The last thing he saw before slipping into unconsciousness was a pair of bright red eyes coming towards him…

Happy Monday!

I'm starting a new Sterek story for Teenwolf based of a prompt I got from The Wonderful Mistique - They asked for a Beauty and the Beast style story, with Derek as the Beast (of course!)

Rather than go with the Disney version though, I'm taking a few liberties from the classic La Belle et la Bête tale, which had a few notable differences, and adding in a couple of smaller prompts from others that were more 'scenes we want to see' rather than whole stories.

Thanks for all the great feedback that I got from 'Reason For Call' and for all the prompts and ideas that you sent me! I don't think I'll ever run out of ideas for new stories for a long time :)

Also, for those that asked, I've *just* finished season 6 of Supernatural and am starting season 7 tonight. I wasn't super thrilled with season 6 (as you may know if you've been reading my stuff before) and I REALLY wasn't happy with the ending. AT ALL.

I say NO. If you want it in Spanish? NOH!

If you are coming to this via the other stuff I've written – Hey! Hope you like this one!

If you've never read anything I've done before – Hey! Don't be scared to say Hi :)

As normal – bmwiid on twitter and bmwiid on tumblr! Let me know what you think.