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Stiles Stilinski. Best Friends- Scott McCall, Allison Argent, Lydia Martin. Father- Sheriff Stilinski. Absolute true love- Lydia Martin.

This was Stiles life. Nothing impressive, nothing popular and nothing exciting ever happened to him. He joined the lacrosse team sophomore year only because of his best friend Scott. And Scott joined to become "Popular" and to get the girl.

Then, his life took a very interesting turn. He discovered his best friend- Scott McCall- had turned into a werewolf. A werewolf that howled at the moon, grew fur, sharp teeth and claws, that hunted things on the full moon and occasionally rubbed his butt on the carpet for the heck of it.

Okay that last one was a joke but he realized that his life would never be the same again- and in fact it hadn't. This is what he was just thinking about on his way to school one night. He was sitting in his jeep cranking the radio as loud as humanly possible and pulling into his school parking lot. Now, normally he would have just stayed at school for the lacrosse match, however, he had left his equipment at home. He begged for Coach Finstock to let him leave campus and he had replied with, "Bilinski, If you're even a second after 7:00, you're off the team-" Then Stiles lost interest in the monologue that coach suddenly went into.

He sat back into his Jeep closing his eyes. Man, how his life was changing. Scott had been a werewolf for a year now and he was still his same old self. Lydia, Allison, Jackson... They all had changed, but not him. He has stayed his normal, boring self.

Now in retrospect, there was nothing wrong with the way things are now. Perfectly acceptable. Beautiful even. Except... Stiles wanted... to feel wanted. Scott had Allison now and didn't rely on him as much as he used to. Lydia still rarely speaks to him and when he does he barely replies out of shear shock that she had just spoken to him. Jackson's still an ass, but a werewolf ass nonetheless. A majority of the people Stiles knew were werewolves.

Sometimes he would get a very nostalgic feeling and wish things were back to their old ways. But he could never go back.

The past is the past.

He needed to focus on the future. He opened his eyes yet again to look up into the full moon. Scott had learned to control his wolf side but he wasn't going to be at the game tonight.

"This is the full moon before the matting moon so I can't make it to the game. The matting moon is extremely rare-" Scott had said to him during English. Scott continued to explain about it but Stiles got distracted by Lydia's doodling in her notebook. Lately she has been drawling this weird star shaped thing that fascinated Stiles. He could stare at it for hours on end and never tier of it.

Stiles shifted out of his seat to turn the car off. He glanced at the clock 6:58. Shoot, he was going to be late- yet again- for lacrosse.

He grabbed his bag from the passengers seat and opened his door. It was starting to get warmer but tonight was an especially chilly night. It was the coldest its been for this time of year.

The moon light illuminated the parking lot as Stiles started walking to the school's main doors. The school felt hauntingly empty as Stiles made his way to the front steps. The school looked completely different at night than at day. At night, the campus felt cold, secluded and aloof from society. As though it didn't belong here. It was the bare minimum that a school contained. It was the skeleton of a carcass left behind to rot. There were no living souls in site or anything to bring color to the school.

Stiles was a few meters away from the sidewalk as a low, loud growl barely audible howled behind him. Stiles entire body had never frozen so fast. Every muscle became stiff. The growl was different than any he had heard before. Scott's was distinguishable, he was Stile's best friend. Even the most intimidating growls did nothing to Stiles. Issac's was different. It wasn't as matured as Scott's. It sounded like a betas growl. Nothing wrong with that. Lydia was a Banshee so she didn't growl...

Shit.

He started walking faster.

Nothing good could have made that noise behind him at this time of night. If it was during the day, he would turn around face whoever had jokingly made a rumble. Not given an I-am-a-beast/predictor-about-to-slash-you-open-because-I-can growl.

Everything in him was telling him NOT to turn around. Absolutely NOTHING good could come out of it. He knew that one for sure. Maybe it was just a chiwawa or even better, nothing was behind him and he had simply imagined the noise.

But as if reading his thoughts, the noise came again. This time, different. Before the growl was more- Who are you? Are you an enemy? And now it was- I do not believe you are an enemy- kind of growl. Don't turn around. Don't do it.

Don't-

He felt the muscles in his body turn as he closed his eyes tight. He was now facing the right direction of the noise, but his eyes were in a deadlock. This would look very weird from an outsiders perspective. A teenage boy, alone in a parking lot (at night) with his eyes closed. Yep. Just a little strange.

He heard this time something closer to a rumble. Very, very close. Way to close for comfort.

As his eyes were closed, his other senses increase. He could smell that the air was heavier around him, smelling like... Wood? But not forest wood. At least, not forest wood that resided in Beacon Hills. He felt and heard the impact of a breath exhaling. His entire body tensed yet again. There was someone standing in front of him.

He was done for. Kapute. Dead. No longer in existence.

In a small way, his life flashed before his eyes-

He was going to die a virgin.

He was going to die a fricken virgin.

Sorry Scott- I won't be there to back you up any more, because my virgin ass died!

News headline- VIRGIN STILES STILINSKI MURDERED ON CAMPUS WHILE ONLOOKERS NOTICED HE WAS ALONE WITH HIS EYES CLOSED

Okay, so that was a long headline but it was the truth. Think of it as a prediction of future events. Stiles is now a master at ESP.

He felt big hands grab onto both arms.

This was it.

The End.

He waited... Nothing.

Whoever was holding a death grip on his arm just stood there doing that. Don't open your eyes, Stiles. He told himself.

He could still hear the other breathing and could feel the other exhaling. Unless it was the wind matching perfectly with the times the strange person was exhaling.

"Uhh..." Stiles slipped. He didn't mean for anything to come out of his mouth but there were times when he need to know how to stop his mouth form opening and uttering nonsense. This was one of those times. "I can guarantee I don't taste good. Well, unless you're into that thing. Then if so, go for someone with more muscle. I know another with more meat-" He stopped talking when he head a sniffing noise.

The strange person was now... Sniffing him? No, wait, yes. Maybe... That's what it felt like.

Now he is doubting his consciousness. He felt a tongue- it was defiantly a tongue- pulse against his right collarbone. Like it was tasting him. The air hit the cold trail of silica left by said tongue. What if this was Scott just pulling his leg? Stiles couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. What if it was some strange murder he had seen on the news yesterday?! Actually, he didn't watch the new yesterday but that's beside the point. The point being his head and whats beside it being some stranger who is now sucking on his clavicle.

Just open your eyes...

Open your eyes...

Come on Stiles, be a man! Open yo-

A sudden pain shot through his shoulder as his eyes flew open. He couldn't see anything expect blotched of color as his eyes tried to focus. He felt a liquid dip across his skin only to be replaced by a wet tongue licking it up by the same stranger who fucking BIT him.

He felt teeth biting into the same spot before pressing harder in as the person let out a mix of a howl and a groan. Stile couldn't move his body. It felt like he was trapped both physically and mentally. Well, his attacker was at least male, or some woman with a freaky strong grip.

And then he was gone. The sudden coldness and emptiness of the school parking lot dawned upon his as the final black and white blotches disappeared from site. He lifted his a shacking arm to his neck and winced at the touch. He pulled his fingers back to see them stained with blood. He grabbed his bag and simply head to the locker room. No way in hell was he missing the game. He was a man who valued his manly pride. He wasn't going to let the fact that he was bitten bring him down.

He opened up the school doors as he suddenly felt tiered. His knees felt week and his vision blurred. Was his body always this heavy?

The last thing in his mind being bitten before he was covered in blackness.

Waffles.

Stiles knew for a fact the he smelt waffles. His eyes slowly opened as he looked around his room. He was laying in bed.

His bed.

He sifted under his covers and stretched out.

What. Happened. He felt like he was hit by a freight train. The last time he felt like this was last summer when Scott had got his hands on some cheep Vodka and they had drank the entire bottle. They were alone and thankfully did nothing stupid but they both woke up with massive headaches. This moment was just as bad as that.

The last thing he remembered was being at the school... Getting out of his car... Then what? Waking up in bed. Something happened. Right?

He heard a knock on the door. "Stiles? You awake?" His dad came in wearing a causal outfit. Stiles was taken back by this.

"And you're not in your uniform?" Stiles asked worried by the expression his dad was making. His voices was hoarse and groggy like he had just woken from a week long nap.

"I took the day off. How are you feeling?" He asked with concern in his eyes.

"Uh... Fine, more or less..." He equivocated as best as he could. His dad leaned against the door frame.

"That's good... Scott will be stopping by to bring you the homework you missed." His dad avoided eye contact and acted like the view from his bedroom was suddenly the most amazing thing ever.

"Come again?" He questions his dads sanity. Why was Scott coming by exactly?

"You've been out since Friday Night. It's Tuesday." Stiles heart almost stopped at the words. He has been asleep for fucking FOUR DAYS? Panic spread out through his veins as he felt himself starting to sweat. What he sick? No, not that he knew of... Oh God, was it some sort of potion from a witch? Did Scott poison him with a weird werewolf disease?!

He didn't know how to respond. But his father could apparently read his face and responded for him, "I had Melissa and a few doctors examine you, they said nothing was wrong and that it would be better for you to be in a familiar atmosphere instead of a hospital when you were to wake up."

"Okay..." Stiles was scared. Scared to tell his dad the truth. What if this had to do with werewolves? If put in a position, could he tell his dad the truth?

"I made breakfast. Come down when ever you're ready. No rush." He turned and shut the door before Stiles could reply.

He didn't have anything to say to his dad. He didn't know what to say.

Hey day! Sorry that I have no memory of why I passed out in the school parking lot on a Friday night on my way to a lacrosse game. That's not sketchy is it? Maybe it's because of my werewolf best friend who just rang out door bell?

Stiles got up to answer the door. "I've got it dad, sit down. You already made me waffles. I think I can handle the door." His father shot him a look as he walked over to the door and unlocked it.

Scott was standing there with a bag in his hands. "You're alive." He stated.

"And you were no help with that." He pulled Scott in and up to his room. He shut the door behind him.

"What the hell dude? What happened?" Scott asked once they were in the privacy of Stile room. Scot sat down on his bed. Scott came over so often that this was his second home.

"I don't know! You tell me!" Stiles exclaimed. He felt his anger boiling over. He wasn't angry necessarily at Scott but more so at himself for being unable to recall the even that let to his temporary demise. "What did you do to me?"

"What are you talking about, Stiles?" Scott stared him down. Two could play at that game.

"This is probably your fault! Your werewolf problem probably contaminated my human self! Maybe I'm allergic to you and suddenly I had an allergic reaction?"

"Stiles-"

"No Scott! I'm serious! We have never considered the effects it would have on me! Maybe being friends with a werewolf shortens a human's lifespans! What if I am turning mutant? What of this is a symptom of an outbreak cause by werewolf's? What if-"

"Stiles,"Scott interrupted yet again. "It's not something I did. What do you remember about the night? Think about everything. What you saw, smelt, heard. Anything." Stiles laid down horizontally on the bed. Scott remained sitting up.

He thought for a while. What had happened?

"Well... I got out of my car." Stiles closed his eyes and thought about what he last remembered. "Right. Minding my own business... I was walking into the school. But I stopped... Why? Oh, I think I heard something. A meow? No, a growl? I think... Yes! A growl! But it was quite so I picked up the pace. It could have been just a small dog, a chiwawa at worst. But I heard it again. Yeah! So I turned around. But I was too manly to open my eyes. I smelt wood. No pine? No- wood. I think. I'm pretty sure that someone was standing in front of me... Then what? He was smelling me... Like a dog. And then his licked me. Ha! It tickles! And..." Stiles eyes flew open. "HE FUCKING BITE ME!" Stiles ran over to the bathroom mirror and looked. Sure enough, there was a slight outline of someones teeth marks. Not noticeable unless you were to look for them.

He ran his fingers over the indent they left in his skin. A shiver ran through his body at the sudden direct contact. Weird.

"What?" Scott was not in the bath room examining his neck as though he was the frog they dissected back in eighth grade. He also let his finger trail over the bite mark as the same tingling ran through him. Scott noticed his reaction.

"What?" Stiles asked scared of Scott's facial expression at the moment.

"Do you not find any of this weird? A stranger bites you and then you wake up four days later with no recollection of it? Stiles we need to talk to Deaton. Now." Before Stiles could protest, they were out the door and in Stiles Jeep.

Stiles was dragged into the Animal Clinic almost against his will. Deaton kept his cool smug look on his face as if he knew they were coming (which he probably did).

"What can I help you boys with?" He asks calmly as if he can't see how much they are freaking out.

"I was bit!" Stiles yelled. Deaton looked between Scott and Stiles but both didn't reply. Neither knew what to say. Scott gave him the you're not wrong look.

"By what?" He asked.

"That's why we're here." Stiles then explained to him the amazingly awkward story of how he got bit...

He stood there for a few seconds looking at Stiles. His facial expression din't change and continued staring.

"I think I have an idea." He walked behind the counter into the back of the room. Scott gave him a nervous look before letting out a deep breath.

"That's a good sign, right? I mean, Deaton can fix this? Well, I'm not saying anything's broken but I just want to know what-who- bit me. Yah I mean, It's kinda important to know when some one has tasted my blood and I don't know if I am comfortable-"

"Stiles," Scott interrupted.

"-with having some one tasting my blood. Maybe if I knew them better, I'd consider it but-" A clearing of the throat made Stiles turn on his heels to see Deaton with a very old, very dusty book. Scott was giving him an I tried to warn you that Deaton was walking in look. Stiles shot him a well it wasn't good enough look.

Dalton walked over to the counter and put the book the book down. Stiles swore that dust flew everywhere when he did so.

"You were bit by a werewolf." Dalton flat out stated. Stiles let out a laugh.

"No. I wasn't, there would be wolfy marks on my neck. Not human ones." Stiles gestured to his neck.

"Not necessarily," Deaton flipped the book open to a weird ass picture. It was a werewolf holding a human female. The female was fully naked (boobs and all) and with blood dripping down her neck. Her stomach had a weird star drawling on it. The drawling looked oddly familiar as Stiles stared at it. Fascinated by its patterns and shaped. "There are rare cases where a werewolf will choose a human mate."

"What? So you're telling me I am now a werewolf's substitute because it can't find a mate?" Stiles asked in disbelief. This was not happening. He was not going to be a replacement. And against his will on top of it. This was one of the worst situations he had been in. Even more awkward then some of the memories Stiles has had with Derek.

"Well, sort of. Think of it as you having been marked." He continued.

"What does that even mean?" Stiles asked pasting back and forth.

"It means that until the next full moon, there will be... Symptoms, if you will. Normally, werewolves mate with other werewolves but on this occasion, a werewolf has chosen its mate to be human."

"Symptoms?" Scott spoke up.

"Yes. He will go threw three stages." Deaton's attention turned back to Stiles. "First, it will be a longing type of feeling. Like you're constantly without something. The next stage will add on to that. Your hormones will increase and will experience a heat of sorts. Lastly, will be the night of the full moon."

"What will happen on that night?" Stiles asked. This was just great. Obviously someone bit Stiles thinking he was someone else. And now because of this, Stiles was going to have to sacrifice both his virginity and his sanity for a night to some stranger. Perfect.

"The werewolf will come and confirm the claim he placed on you." Deaton closed the book and walked into the back.
Scott looked at Stiles.

"Well this is just great." Stiles sighed as he stormed out the door into the only place he could think. His Jeep.