Author's Note:

So, I've been writing this story for myself for fun since I started watching the show... Figured I'd publish it and see what happens! So, please let me know what you guys think, thanks :)

The day my pack left was about a week after my sixteenth birthday.

We lived in a large house on the outskirts of town with a backyard that directly faced several miles of forestry, so silence was a luxury we were used to. No traffic, no noisy neighbors, and no complaints about the constant chaos that reigned in our household. I'd simply assumed that the boys had passed out at the college party they'd gone to, and that Dad and Susan were taking advantage to sleep while the girls were with our aunt. I had always been more of a morning person, but I felt strangely sleepier than normal, and couldn't bring myself to wake up with the sun like always.

It wasn't until almost noon that I noticed that the silence wasn't a sign of peace, but rather a sign of absence. I opened the door to my room and padded quietly out into the hall, listening for any sign of life in the house. When I reached the stairs and started to walk down, the air became thick and my moves sluggish.

Everything was gone: the worn out couches the boys used; the La-Z-Boy our father laid on while the toddlers tried to climb onto his lap; the dining room table where my brother always sat to explain trigonometry to me. There were lighter square patches on the walls where family photos and paintings had been taken down and the carpet was littered with imprints from furniture that was now gone. As I wandered into the kitchen, I was met with a similar scene. The refrigerator had been left behind, and when I opened it, I found a week's worth of food in a bag, just like my stepmother used to prepare for us when we'd go camping.

There wasn't a note explaining, but it was when I found the food that I knew for certain they'd left. Mercifully, the house phone was also left behind. In something of a daze I called the only person I could think of for help, and then sat down on the kitchen floor to wait.

The Sheriff was walking into my house in less than ten minutes. Maybe it was my tone of voice, or maybe it was simply that I'd said, "My family is gone. All gone," but he seemed to have realized it was an emergency and had stopped whatever he was doing to get to my house. Stiles was with him, and despite his father's protests, he wandered into the foyer only seconds after the Sheriff did. He was a year or two younger than me, but we went to middle school together. He lost his mom shortly after I lost mine. That was about as much as I knew about him.

Sheriff Stalinsky wasn't too sure about how to proceed, and who could blame him? It's not every day that a family drugs their daughter with sleeping pills and then disappears overnight. He found an envelope in what used to be my father's office, and it was everything for him to not act unprofessionally angry when he found that it contained emancipation paperwork and some money orders to pay for utilities and rent for a month.

My memories after the moment I read the paperwork are very hazy. I know that Child Protection Services arrived and the Sheriff insisted that I stay at his home until everything was sorted out, which I did, for a week. I remember Stiles watching me, waiting for the moment the emotion would hit me. Hell, everyone watched. I overheard someone in a suit comment in a whisper that maybe the whole thing was staged, because it didn't seem believable and I seemed completely unaffected. Ha, he didn't know the half of it.

Wolves aren't supposed to abandon one of their own. I had never shifted like my brothers had, or even like my parents, but I'd never felt separate from them. My uncle and one of my cousins was human too, and we'd go bowling while the family went for their traditional runs. Even if we weren't all wolves, we were a pack.

But, of course, every family has its secrets. My mother was the alpha, and so when I was born, it was a celebration, just as it had been with my brothers. As a child I didn't notice that everyone had dark eyes while mine were honey colored, or that I was the only one with mahogany-colored hair. Back then, everyone simply said, "Of course, babies' eyes change color all the time," or "Oh, brown hair must be a recessive gene," and as far as I'd known, they believed it.

When my mother died, however, my Dad lost it. Alcohol owned his nights, and dragged him through the daylight hours. One bad night in a drunken rage he started ranting about hunters, and amidst his only slightly coherent yells called me a bastard child and said he never wanted to see me again. So, I went to live with Auntie Jessie so he wouldn't have to. A week later, my brothers picked me up and took me home. Everything went back to normal, and I welcomed it. A couple of months passed, and Dad met Susan. She replaced the alcohol, and did the typical things that "cool" stepmothers do to try and win their stepdaughters over. Shopping and talking about boys and running as a human in the morning while the pack shifted. It didn't mean much that I didn't participate in the ceremony when they got married while all of my siblings did. In all honesty, I didn't notice. I was just happy that she'd be a part of the family. We were all happy. I hardly even remembered that dark night when my father disowned me for the first time.

When I saw the papers, however, I remembered it perfectly clear, and realized the reason I'd been left behind.

Back in the day, when a bastard child was born, they were given standard last names rather than their fathers'. So, once the judge approved my emancipation, I filed for a name change. I kept my first and middle name, but threw away my pack's last name and took on a new one. My aunt didn't approve, but she didn't stop me either, and simply wrinkled her nose when I showed her my new state ID. I know that Conner Fitz isn't exactly a name that rolls off the tongue, but it's mine. I'm a bastard child born into a wolf pack, and nothing can be done to change that. My mother was an alpha and my pack kicked me out, a taboo combination like becoming an omega at only fifteen.

I'm sorry, at sixteen. Like I said, it was a crazy year.

One Year Later:

Being born into the family I was, I was raised to be prepared for certain things. I learned to not be surprised when my brothers would lunge at each other and resolve their problems through physical fights; I've long since gotten over my queasiness at the sight of blood and broken bones; and, recognizing that many times, the best choice is to run, I've taken up the habit of running at least an hour every other morning.

But how to pay attention to the gas meter after a nasty fight with my boyfriend?

That's one skill I have yet to acquire.

"Dammit Heath, get over yourself," I mutter as he rejects my call for the fourth time. I trudge down the road with an empty fuel can in one hand and my useless cell phone in the other. It's already one o'clock in the morning, but I know for a fact that he's very much awake and simply ignoring my calls. His best friend Jessie would pick me up if I asked, but he's over at his girlfriend's house tonight, so his cellphone is off to avoid sex interruptions. I consider calling my father for a second, and can't help but laugh at the hypothetical scenario.

Yeah, even if he hadn't cut off his cell phone, calling my dad a year after he abandoned me in this town would not be the best idea. We'd most likely spend easily an hour arguing about how much I remind him of my late mother and whatever dead beat is my real biological father before I could ask him for the gallon of gas that could get me to a gas station, and in that time frame, I was better off just walking there myself.

I catch sight of the gas station in the distance, the white lights a beacon of hope in this overall frustrating night. Just as I let out a sigh of relief, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and I get the feeling that I'm being watched. I look over my shoulder, see nobody, and pick up the pace. Beacon Hills is a small town that psycho killers and rapists stay away from, but I don't plan on being Beacon Hills' first victim. Getting abducted on a desolate road would just be too cliché for me to handle.

In no time I'm walking under the safety of the white gas station light. There aren't any cars around, but I'm sure the place has 24-hour service, and confidently walk up to the dusty service window. "Yo, Kevin!" I call, knocking on the dirty glass. "Gas emergency!" It's not the first time I'm left stranded on this road because I've forgotten to fill my truck's tank, but admittedly, it's the first time I do it this late at night. Even so, Kevin should be here. Figuring he may have dozed off, I walk to the locked glass door and knock harder. The small shop closes after midnight, so the lights inside are all off save for the emergency light, providing just enough light for me to see inside.

"Kevin, wake up!" I yell. I peer through the glass and see a dark figure staggering towards the door. "Wow, are you okay? You're limping."

Once he passes beneath the emergency light, I see how much of an understatement that is. I can't stop the gasp that escapes me as I scramble backwards, tripping over my own feet and falling to the ground. I see my reflection in the glass, and see horror reflected back at me in wide honey-colored eyes. Kevin finally reaches the door and claws at the glass, trying to hold himself up. The blood all over his palms makes him slip, and in a heap he crumbles to the floor. I see his ruined leg splayed out behind him, the bottom of his pant leg ripped to shreds and blood pouring out of the wound. I nearly pass out when I see that his throat's been torn at, a wound I'm far too familiar with. Blood spurts out of the neck gash every time he breathes like it's a special effect from a bad slasher film, and if I couldn't recognize that claw marks were what was marring his flesh, I maybe could have convinced myself it was a prank.

How I wish I couldn't smell the blood through the door, warning me of what is to come.

"Behind... you," he whispers.

As if the floor burns me I jump to my feet and whorl around, bracing myself for what I already expect. But, there's nobody there. My heart leaps into my throat and I feel my body shaking in fear, adrenaline pumping through my veins as if by the mere force of it I'll be able to survive. But, it's the opposite effect, I know: he can hear my heart beating faster, louder, and he'll be able to find me from a mile away. I look back at Kevin to see if he's alive, but the blood has stopped squirting out of his neck, and I know it's because he's stopped breathing and his own heart has given up.

I bite back the panic and scan the area, searching for the telltale glow of wolf eyes in the darkness. I can practically smell the wolf close by, the stench of blood hanging close to its scent. The stench reminds me of my father, and I want to scream with frustration at how familiar this scene is to the training exercises we used to have. Without the fear for my life, of course.

"You are going to leave me alone," I say, directing the statement to the general darkness beyond the gas station. My voice quavers slightly as I say the words, but I keep my face serious and try not to show how terrified I am. "My pack will know if I'm attacked by an alpha, and they'll come and rain hell on this town until they find you."

It's not a complete lie. Keelan and Jeremy, my cousins, would. Never mind that they're only fifteen years old. And live about two hours away. And aren't coming to stay with me until tomorrow night. My dismal situation hits me, and it's only my survival instinct and pride that keeps me from rolling over in surrender.

"I doubt that, Conner."

The unnatural voice comes from behind me, and before I can turn around, a claw collides with my back and throws me to the ground. I tuck my arms and head in and manage to roll a couple of feet without injury, but when I stop and look up, there's nobody there. I jump to my feet and back up against the building so he can't sneak up on me again, my hands shaking at my sides and my heart in my throat. I try to remember what my father and brothers taught me, but all my training is pointless when I can't shift. I drop my head back against the building, keeping the frightened tears and panic at bay as I take deep breaths.

Being the victim of an alpha is not something my family could have prepared me for. Fighting one, sure; there are fights for pack leadership every couple years or so, sometimes for months at a time. But being hunted by an alpha isn't something that happens to my family. What does a werewolf have to worry about a werewolf trying to maul it? Not much more than a human has to worry about another human in hand-to-hand combat. And my family is always bigger and badder than the other guy. If one of my brothers were here, he would be bounding out into the forest and fighting the alpha. But, I'm the bastard child that didn't get the big-and-bad gene, which is why, instead of fighting, I'm frozen here like a sitting duck, praying the alpha's bored of playing with me already.

The sound of a car reaches me then, and I feel a spark of hope. A blue Jeep pulls in to the gas station, and involuntarily I let out a sigh of relief. It's Stiles, the Sheriff's son. To make matters even better, four cops cars follow the Jeep, sirens ablaze as they surround the gas station. Even as Stiles jumps out of his Jeep and runs towards me with his father close behind, I can't bring myself to move or speak. I'm paralyzed, the shameful fear keeping me from running to Stiles and throwing my arms around the kid.

"Conner, you okay?" Stiles asks, holding my shoulders and putting his face in front of mine. I only blink as his father jerks him away, slapping the back of his son's head as he pushes him behind him.

"Dammit Stiles! Conner, what are you doing here?" the Sheriff exclaims. "We got a call from Kevin-"

"He's dead," I whisper, cutting him off. His eyes widen and finally he looks at the door. In a second he's yelling orders to his deputies and trying to force the door open, leaving me and Stiles off to the side while they get to work. Stiles is staring at me, and finally I'm able to take a breath and move. My legs give out under me as I step forward and I drop to the floor. Stiles catches me before I can hurt myself and he drapes one of my arms over his shoulders, holding me up. There's a bench a couple of feet away and he sets me down on it, standing up in front of me in case I decide to fall again.

"Thanks," I mutter, bracing my hands against the bench. I'm starting to feel nauseous, but I breathe in deeply, forcing my body to calm down. There's no way in hell I'm going to hurl chunks now in front of the Beacon Hills Police Department. And Stiles.

"What happened?"

The question of the hour, because last time I checked, my mother was the only alpha who'd ever held interest in me, and she was both dead and uninterested in being a killer.

If there was one thing Derek could determine about the girl, it was that she was a pretty good liar. He stood at the edge of the forest, watching the scene and listening in on the questioning. More police officers had arrived along with CSI and an ambulance to investigate the alpha's latest victim, the latter of which was the center of his attention- or, rather, the only survivor so far.

She was a weird one. The girl sat in the back of the ambulance as the paramedic cleaned off her back and the Sheriff interrogated her, her golden eyes calmly fixed on the officer. Her shoulder-length hair was an unusual color that was somewhere between brown and red and was cut in choppy layers that made it look messy. The paramedic had had her take off her shirt, so she sat with her arms braced against her knees clad in nothing but a black bra and torn jeans, seemingly comfortable even with the lack of clothing. The Sheriff didn't look as comfortable and had offered to excuse himself, but she'd insisted she didn't mind his being there. Maybe it was for the best that he feel so awkward; Derek couldn't take the risk of the Sheriff not believing the lie the girl was expertly weaving.

"I only caught a glimpse of it, but it looked like some sort of mountain lion," she explained, wincing as the paramedic wiped a particularly sensitive patch of skin. "Or maybe it was a big dog, I don't know. Really, it was big and furry with claws and teeth. That's all the description I cared for at the time."

"We'll need to give you a rabies shot," the paramedic informed her. She shook her head.

"I was vaccinated last year," she said, clearly trying to avoid the process. "I should have another year or two of immunity."

"But just in case-"

"Can't it wait until tomorrow?" she damn near pleaded. "I don't want to go to a hospital. I just want to get home."

"I have a shot here," the paramedic said, smiling slightly at her desperation. "It can go in your arm, so once I'm done here, we'll get that out of the way."

"Deal." She looked up at the Sheriff. "Any other questions?"

"Let's just go over this one more time," he began, looking down at his notes. "So, you were driving home from work. Where is that?" At that point Derek started to pay more attention. He couldn't recognize her, and the name "Conner" for a girl didn't ring a bell for him. If she'd been scratched deeply enough, it was possible that she would start turning, and he would need to know where to go to keep an eye on her.

"Stacey's Cafe, one town over," she said, slowly so he could write it down.

"Alright. Your truck ran out of gas down the road, and you walked here. Why didn't you call anyone?"

"I called my boyfriend, but we got into a fight earlier, so..." she trailed off, and frowned. "I'm sorry, can he go on the record as my ex-boyfriend?" Derek rolled his eyes: another drama queen.

"I sure hope so," the paramedic muttered as he bandaged the injuries. The Sheriff raised a brow and the girl laughed, shaking her head.

"Professionalism, sparky," she reminded the paramedic, but it came out as more of a joke than an actual admonishment. She was full of contradictions; she'd been attacked no more than an hour before, and she was easily making jokes with the paramedic cleaning up the wounds that could have easily taken her life, but was still holding a grudge about her boyfriend (or ex-boyfriend, he really didn't care) not picking up his phone. Either she was in shock, or was far too familiar with life-threatening situations.

"Anyways, yeah. I don't know too many people around here besides you and Stiles, and the gas station was only a half mile away or so, so I decided to walk and maybe ask Kevin for a ride back. I mean, yeah, he's schizophrenic, and we weren't exactly close, but he's always been very nice to me."

"And when you got here, did you notice anything suspicious?" he pressed. "Like a person or a car?"

She shook her head. "When I knocked on the door, I saw Kevin..." She stopped, not needing to explain. "He was alive when I got here, but then I got hit from behind and the animal ran off. When I checked again, he wasn't breathing anymore. So, I panicked, froze, and then you guys got here."

"Did you see in which direction the animal went?" he asked hopefully. She shook her head.

"My face was in the pavement, sorry," she said apologetically. The paramedic stood up and opened a drawer, pulling out an injection. She eyed the shot in his hand with wariness. "Do we really need to do this rabies shot business? I swear, I got bitten by a stray just last year, and the doctor gave me a rainbow of shots..."

"It will only hurt for a second," the paramedic promised, wiping an alcohol swab over her deltoid muscle. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Are you even authorized to-?" She cut herself off as he stuck the needle in her arm. She gritted her teeth and let out a long hiss. "My ass it only hurts a second!" she exclaimed once he'd pulled it out and stuck a gauze against it. She held the gauze against her arm as the paramedic rummaged around for something.

"Don't worry, I'll give you a cute band-aid," he promised teasingly. "My Pretty Pony or Disney Princesses?" She rolled her eyes.

"Hardy har."

Derek frowned as the Sheriff wrapped up the interrogation and the paramedic finished his job. Her shirt had been torn by the attack as well as her jacket, so the paramedic gave her a t-shirt and a thick blanket to throw over her shoulders. As they were saying goodbye, he gave her a slip of paper with his number on it, which she accepted with a smile and pocketed. Once she'd walked a couple of feet away, Stiles moved in, steering her towards his Jeep. She smiled warmly at him and started asking questions about school and friends.

She was... charming. And it wasn't just her friendly personality; even her physical appearance was welcoming. She had smooth, attractive skin and a slender waist with soft curves, but the one thing that stood out had to be her golden eyes. They were wide and inviting, hooded by heavy dark lashes that women everywhere strove to create with the help of cosmetics.

Just as she was getting into the Jeep, she stopped and sniffed. He moved into the shadow of a tree, and a good thing, too; a second later she was looking at the spot he'd been in, eyes narrowed and jaw set. Stiles called her name to get her attention and she reluctantly gave up, closing the door behind her.

She was pretty, but she was a liar, and a good one at that. Not once during her story did her heart rate spike, and he had yet to catch on to any of her tells. Even so, he knew she wasn't telling the truth. Despite appearances, the girl was too alert to not have gotten any more detail than "furry with claws and fangs", and had a fire to her not often seen in girls her age.

And yet, for the life of him, he couldn't fathom why the Alpha would want her on his side. There was something he was missing, and so help him, he was going to figure out what.

Post-Chapter Note:

Let me know what you thought! It's only a prologue of sorts, but I'll be updating soon if I get reviews *hint *hint, so... ;)