AN: Haven't written anything in a long time so please excuse any grammar errors ; )

Thanks Scott

Prologue

Unruly grass and weeds were the only things alive near the building. Stiles peeked through the uneven pieces of wood nailed to the window nearest him. He sighed.

"We should split up…he says…We can cover more ground that way."

Stupid Scott.

His light brown eyes flickered over the area, paranoid that some freaky beast would lunge out from some hidden corner. Stiles fervently wished he had a real weapon unlike the pitiful knife that was shoved in his front pocket.

"This is the last freaking one. I swear Scott is trying to get me killed!"

Talking to himself kept his mood calm. It was Boyd and Erica's fault that he was really even out in this creepy abandoned part of town.

The beta werewolves had been missing for 3 days so far. Derek was throwing death glares around like never before. It was made more intimidating by his glowing alpha red eyes.

Stiles stumbled his way through the tangled weeds. He tripped over his own feet barely keeping himself from taking a nose dive. Scoffed converse found themselves on a stoop suspiciously free of debris. The entrance door was in front of him.

His right hand grabbed the knife and popped it open as his other hand tried the doorknob. It turned.

The large door swung smoothly without a single sound. It was immediately apparent that someone had been here or perhaps still occupying the space. Old abandoned doors do not open like that. They squeak and fight to be opened. He nervously stepped inside closing the way out behind him.

Tiny pinpricks of light were coming through the windows. Dust particles floated in the sun creating colored patterns in the air. The smell was less musty then he expected but his nose still twitched in irritation.

It was a large room but was empty with the two exceptions being himself and the small footprints leading further into the building. Hope swelled inside his chest. Maybe he had found Erica.

Stiles followed the footsteps into the next room. It was much cleaner there. The dust didn't cloud the air and make him want to sneeze. An old sleeping bag was stretched along the center of the room. A frayed grey duffel lay at the foot of the makeshift bed.

"Eriurgh"

Someone tackled him from behind. He slammed down on his front, his panicked body twisting and bucking at the weight on top of him. He managed to turn onto his back.

Stiles' only weapon skittered across the barren floor. His head smacked against the cement causing his vision to blur. Whatever had tackled him pinned his body at his thighs. His long legs were rendered useless. Thwack. Now his arms were held down above his head by steely hands.

"Stop struggling."

It was a girl's voice.

Stiles froze under the body on top of his. The panic in his veins lessened and his vision cleared. A teenaged girl was straddling him.