A/N: Hello y'all. So. I've decided to write my own Sterek fanfiction. This is my first fanfiction I'll write by myself, so please don't be afraid to give me some tips and all that jazz c:

My beta is the awesome Kaioky, by the way, thanks a lot in advance hon!

So yeah. Sterek's gonna happen people. Stiles is a born werewolf here. And read below to find out everything. Cuz' I won't spoil it for you c:

Thanks to all that will read this story
This chapter is written with Stiles as the storyteller.

Notes in advance for readers:

Stiles' mother dam surname is Randale. Which means wolf's shield

His mother's name is Megan or Meg for short

It all started nine years ago when his whole pack was brutaly murdered.

With the pack's heritage running down to the first ever werewolves, the Randales were one of the most powerful and respected of packs among the supernatural world.

Not only did they help other werewolf packs who sought help, but the Randales also aided and educated new mages, vampires and human packmates.

But the fairytale ended exactly two weeks, five days and seventeen hours after Stiles' 7th birthday, when every member of their pack was at the family mansion, doing their daily chores.

Well not everyone.

Stiles himself was out shopping groceries with his mother, Megan, and his father, John.

But that's only a small, unimportant detail in the whole scene.

Everyone else was at home. And it happened in the middle of the day.

What happened, you ask?

Hunters happened. To this day, the individuals are still unknown. But those faceless things are the cause of Stiles' pain. The pain he had to live with every day for the last nine years and still counting.

Getting off track again...

It happened in the middle of the day. The hunters attacked Stiles' home and pack. The day was hot, so everyone sought out the coolness that the indoors granted. That was the first mistake the big family made.

As far as it's known from the scents, or the lack thereof, the hunters maked theirs with a mix of wolfsbane and mountain ash, so no one could track them down. With their scents masked, they closed a circle of mountain ash around the house, so none of the werewolves could escape.

Next, they released some kind of wolfsbane gas into the mansion through an open window, room after room, the house slowly filled up with the gas. When the werewolves finally found out what was happening, it was already too late. All the windows had been somehow silently bolted shut to prevent the gas and inhabitants from escaping.

The werewolves inside were getting weaker and weaker with each passing moment, finally after a five minute exposure to the toxic gas, the hunters broke the door down. Armed with silver bullets coated in wolfsbane, the unknown hunters quickly overpowered the intoxicated weres.

The bullets did their job slowly, letting the silver mixed with wolfsbane melt and circle around the veins of the suffering creatures. Once the deadly mix hit the heart, death wasn't far behind.

All the betas were dead in less than 15 minutes, but the alpha's body fought against the toxic mix. Adoth, the alpha and Stiles' grandfather, refused to die without a fight and willed his body to fight harder, his mate Taboo felt the sheer determination oh her mate started struggling against the acid in her system.

Their power was weakening with every death of a packmate, human or werewolf. Soon, Taboo felt her power dissapear when the last werewolf died. With the weight of so many deaths on her shoulders and the pain of the mixture swimming through her veins, she quickly lost the fight for her life.

After Taboo's death, the hunters dragged the pack's humans into the living room where Adoth was still fighting a loosing war. The humans were then sliced in half, right in the middle, their gasps for breath broke Adoth's heart, the organs and blood spilling over the floor, the growing pool of gore slowly making it's way toward the dying alpha, who had tears running down the blood that was splattered on his face.

Adoth knew he didn't have much time left. He passed the alpha title onto the eldest werewolf in the pack still living, in this case it was Stiles' mother. Exhausted from fighting the wolfsbane too long, he closed his eyes and let death overtake him.

When Stiles and his parents returned from grocery shopping, they were greeted with this horrible bloody scene. Bloody shoe prints leading out in the forest, the front door nothing but pieces of wood scattered around. Luckily for the remaining family of three, the hunters were already gone. The place reeked of blood, human and werewolf blood, and different kinds of hybrid wolfsbane. No heartbeats were heard from the home, no survivors, not even one.

Stiles looked in horror at the house that has been filled with life no longer than three hours ago, but now not even a sound came from the burned down shell. The scent of fear radiated from his parents and even with his young mind he knew something was very wrong. It clicked in his brain after a while, his mind was already screaming at him 'Run! Run away!'.

The three quickly left the scene, not turning around for anything in case the hunters were still hanging around.

Megan thought it was best for them if they didn't stay in one place too long. They were able to move every two months thanks to the pack's money account that was packed with money.

Moving never agreed with Stiles, since every time they moved, he had to make new friends, only to leave then again after two months.

That took it's tool on the young boy. He started to spend more time inside, playing video games and reading comics. It also forced Stiles to grow up quicker than other kids his age. He became much more quieter, which was very different from his usually loud personality, more serious and closed-in. Megan and John were concerned for their child, but could do nothing about it. It was a life and death situation.

When Stiles reached age 14, his parents decided to finally settle in a small city called Beacon Hills. After seven years of moving back and forth this was a welcomed change.

The small town was a perfect hiding spot and it was also very beautiful. It was surrounded by a thick forest and everyone knew everybody.

The town belonged to the Hales for a long time, but the whole pack, except Derek Hale and his uncle Peter Hale, died in a fire that was also caused by hunters. The two remaining Hales taking care of their domain.

Peter Hale was the brother of the former alpha and Derek Hale was the alpha's second child. The alpha title was inherited by Derek from his father after the man died in the fire. Derek wasn't the best of alphas, but he was trying his best, with his uncle's help, to be worthy of the title.

The two Hales accepted the three Stilinskis on their territory, so in a form of a 'thank you', Megan taught Derek the ways of the alpha. He was a very fast learner and in no time he started acting like a real alpha.

Stiles was glad they settled in, at least for a while. He started with high school and had no trouble with the grades. He made fast friends with Scott McCall, who was now his best friend, Isaac Lahey, with whom he exchanged his hidden family troubles in the last years. He also befriended Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, surprisingly the school's favorite person Danny Mahealani, the Ice Queen Lydia Martin and even Jackson Whittemore, who concealed a good heart under layers of jerkness. The odd bunch were inseparable. They often went to clubs or watched movies on weekends.

Stiles never met the two Hales in person. He only knew them from what his mother told him. He found out that he had a lot in common with Peter, a researcher by heart like himself. And Derek? He sounded like a broody self centered idiot.. like Jackson somehow.

Two years of high school came and went. From then on everything in Stiles' life went downhill. Near the beginning of the third semester he found out his mother was in a horrible car accident. Stiles and his father, who was now the local sheriff, raced to the hospital. His mother was laid out on her back on the uncomfortable hospital bed, IVs were running into her arms, her whole body badly beaten and the foul odor of wolfsbane around her. Stiles knew this wasn't a normal car crash.

A week has passed since his mother's accident, his father stayed loyally with her day and night. Stiles knew he should drag his father home and force him to sleep and eat something more healthy than the cheap food the hospital offered. He finally convinced his father to go home with him.

He woke up a couple of days later and felt a surge of power run through him. He quickly scrambled into the bathroom and changed his eyes. They flashed red. Which only meant- no.

Stiles raced downstairs to the kitchen where he found his father curled around himself, a phone clutched in his hands, sobs racking his body. He reeked of sadness and cheep alcohol, signaling his father had been trying to drink his sadness over Megan's death away.

The next two months, Stiles stayed home, just being there for his father. Peter visited once or twice to check on them. The teen really appreciated that from the older werewolf and found he liked Peter, in a fatherly way, when the man gave him a kiss on the forehead and a nuzzle to his hair. He really misses contact with others; his own father wasn't really the touchy-feely type when he grieved.

Peter has suggested he went and visited Derek. Stiles thought about that a little. It was time to learn how to become a real alpha for his dad, his only pack left.

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