Chapter One

Stiles was sick of running for his life. It seemed like all his free time since Scott had got the bite, and bloody Derek Hale had brooded his way into their lives, was taken up with running from unimaginable horrors. Seriously at this rate he was going to end up owning stocks in Nike.

Crashing through some low lying branches, he couldn't stop the shriek that burst from his throat when his hoodie got caught and he was thrown backwards like a rag doll. Spinning around in tight circles, he waved his arms around until he heard the branch snap and he unceremoniously crashed to the ground. He stayed there for several long moments using his pathetic human hearing to listen out for anyone approaching, but the woods were quiet. Too quiet if he was honest. Somewhere out there was a pack of werewolves chasing a swamp monster, one would have expected there to be more noise. Well at least some howling, there seemed to be a significant absence of howling going on. Not that Stiles minded right in that moment since he neither wanted a swamp monster to sneak up on him, nor would he have wanted someone to see his ungainly escape attempt from the tree.

Ok he didn't want Lydia to have seen it, he'd never live it down.

After taking some time out to catch his breath, Stiles pushed off from the mud and took off at a less frantic pace further into the woods. He just knew he was going to get lost here, after all he had never really known his way around the thick woodlands that surrounded Beacon Hills and in his panic he hadn't really been paying attention to where he was going. Leaning against a nearby tree he pulled his cellphone from his pocket, covering the screen with his hand to stop the light attracting unwanted attention. No reception, what a surprise. This whole thing was playing out like a B grade horror film and unfortunately Stiles was playing the role of tragic heroine.

"I'm going to die." His words were whispered but still sounded loud in the silence of the woods. "Some old man walking a dog is going to find my corpse six months from now."

He could see if now, the newspaper headlines reading 'missing teen found dead just seconds away from civilization'. He wondered if ghosts could blush, either way he was going to haunt Scott for the rest of his long immortal life. He was going to be Spike to Scott's Angel, after all it was his fault Stiles was out here in the first place and not at home eating Ben & Jerry's from the tub and watching shark week.

If Stiles missed shark week he was going to haunt the whole Beacon Hills pack for the rest of eternity.

This was ridiculous, he had to find his way out of these woods or at least find someone friendly who could help him. Pushing his phone back into his jeans pocket he stepped away from the tree, giving out a manly shriek when he foot sunk into the mud and he had to cartwheel his arms desperately to stop going face first into the slush. Once he had steadied himself he took three steps into the darkness only to walk smack into what felt like another tree.

Huh ... he hadn't seen a tree there in the dull light coming from his phone screen. Reaching out his hand came into contact with something hard, something hard covered in what felt like leather and before his brain was even able to process that fact he was picked up by his throat and pressed into the tree he had just been hiding behind. His feet weren't even touching the ground, and he could feel someone's breath on his face and a warm body against his. Well there was only one person who would pick him up by his throat and throw him into trees all while ignoring personal boundaries.

"Derek." His voice came out strangled, which wasn't a surprise since he was being … well … strangled. "Man am I glad to see you."

"What are you doing?" Ah so Derek was half wolfed out if his voice was any indication, his words tended to go muffled when his teeth came in. "I thought I told you to hide."

"Yes well …" Stiles waved his hands in a way that he hoped would convey his feeling of panic and desperation at the time the swamp monster attacked, however it wasn't an easy feat seeing as he had six feet of alpha werewolf all up in his grill. "You know how it is."

"No," said Derek, and Stiles swore he could see the man's eyes flash red in the darkness. "I don't."

At that the pressure eased off of his windpipe and Derek let him slide down the tree trunk and find his feet. He didn't back away though and in fact Stiles found himself crowded even moreso against the tree, one of Derek's ridiculously rock hard thighs pressed between his own as he leaned forwards to look around the trunk.

He was seventeen, bisexual, and the adrenalin rush he was going through right now was very real, Stiles refused to take the blame for anything his body decided to do right in that moment. Taking several deep breaths through his nose he closed his eyes and tried not to think about the fact that one of the hottest people in Beacon Hills, hell California, was pressed up against certain parts of his anatomy.

"Will you stop panting," hissed Derek. "You're going to get us killed."

"Sorry man, not all of us can be as fit as Usain Bolt," he answered.

There was no answer to that, not that Stiles had been expecting one. It felt like they were stood there like that for hours, with Stiles trying desperately not to breathe to heavily and Derek pressing him into the tree, his breath damp on Stiles's neck and his hands painfully close to his hips. It was an incredibly humiliating experience, though all in all Derek was being a trooper about ignoring the fact that Stiles Junior was poking him in the thigh. Thank goodness for stoicism.

"Ok we can go." Derek stepped back at him, but just as Stiles was letting out a sigh of relief a ridiculously large hand wrapped around his wrist and he was dragged back through the undercover in the direction he had come from.

"Derek there's a swamp beast thing down this way." He tried to pull his wrist out of the werewolf's grasp but he just wasn't strong enough, and finally he just let himself go limp and be dragged around. "You better not be planning on using me as bait."

"You're useless as bait," said Derek, not even bothering to turn around to look at him in the moonlight. "You just get yourself lost."

"I was not …" Derek glared at him over his shoulder at those words. "... Ok I was a bit lost."

Not another word was spoken after that as Derek continued to drag him through the woods, and it was as what felt like hours passed Stiles realised just how far he had run. Under normal circumstances that would be cause for celebration at the thought that his stamina had improved so much over the last year or so. However now if just sent a shiver of fear down his spine at the idea he had been so off track, man nobody would have found him out here.

"Make that a lot lost," he muttered.

He must have zoned out at that point however, because when Derek suddenly stopped in the middle of a clearing leaving Stiles with no choice but to collide with his broad leather clad back. Moonlight was streaming into the clearing, though thankfully it wasn't a full moon of this whole situation would have played out very differently. The werewolf was standing tall, head tipped back towards the moon, and his eyes closed as he took three very long deliberate sniffs of the early morning air. Suddenly his eyes snapped open and he stared over at the tree line to their left.

"It's here."

At that moment something stepped out of the dark. It was humanoid in shape, but its arms and legs were long and spindly.

"Oh my God." Stiles slapped his free hand over his nose and mouth. "It smells like a septic tank."

Derek didn't seem to even hear him, instead he moved to stand in front of him, legs apart and hands clenched into fists against his denim clad thighs. Under any other circumstance Stiles would have appreciated the way his ass fitted in those jeans, but the threat of impending death was a pretty could libido deterrent.

"I'm going to be eaten by a swamp beast." Stiles pressed his forehead against Derek's back, deciding that if these were his final moments he might as well go pressed up against a hottie. "Who's going to tell my dad. Oh God Derek don't tell him it was a swamp beast, tell him it was Dracula or the Predator or something."

"Predator?" muttered Derek. "That's not even real."

"I'm about to die, I'm not exactly thinking on all cylinders here."

It was then that Derek's legs seemed to give way beneath him and he fell to the ground with a thump, his eyes shining red and a growl rising from his throat. Leaving Stiles standing there completely vulnerable facing a very pissed off swamp beast who was standing right in front of him! Giving a hiss it blinked its huge reptilian eyes and then reached one many clawed hand out to Stiles …

… and then the entire clearing exploded in bright blue light, blinding Stiles and making him throw his arms over his face as he yelled in terror. Once the light had subsided he slowly lowered his arms, blinking rapidly against the multi-coloured blurs that filled his vision, to see that the swamp beast was nothing more than a splatter of green goo on the grass.

"What. The. Hell. Was .That?" Derek, who was still laying at his feet, each word ground out between panting breaths as he glared up at Stiles.

"I …" Stiles looked down at him in shock. "I don't know."