A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN.

This is obviously my Halloween fic for this year. Its AU where the Hale fire happened but no-one died. Stiles and Derek didn't meet during sophomore year but during senior year. The residence of Beacon Hills know about werewolves. This fic begins Halloween night and runs on from there.

Prologue:

Pumpkins and Candy Lies

Most people know Samhain as Halloween. It's supposed to be about costumes, candy and ridiculous pranks that lead to mayhem. Its fun and laughter. There are never any real monsters. That's what most people know. - Stiles however knows differently.

To Stiles it's a night to be feared. Especially when you haven't even turned eighteen yet. Not because your house may end up covered in toilet paper, or with egg gooing up your front step. No, in Beacon Hills, Samhain - Or Halloween or whatever you want to call it. - is filled with actual monsters wanting to rip young virgins to pieces.

Okay, so maybe that's a little exaggeration. - Okay a big exaggeration. But that's what it feels like to him. He's been dreading this day for over a decade and now its here.

If he's honest it probably wouldn't bother him so much if he thought he actually had a chance, but well…he's a 147 pounds of fragile bone, with nothing much to recommend him but his awesome sense of humour and….okay, so he pretty much just has the sense of humour thing. How was he meant to soothe the savage beast with that?

The fact is he can't, and he knows it. Hell, the whole town knows it. His father knows it; which is why of course he'd been extra tolerant the past week. Even his best friend, who by-the-way is one of the said beasts, knows it. Which was why Scott's been giving him the extra soppy puppy stare since eight o'clock that morning.

An explanation is probably in order right about now. Samhein/Halloween is the time of year when the local werewolves, - Yes that's right werewolves. As in furry, growl-y, lock up your daughters, werewolves are freakin' real and they really do howl at the full moon. - pick their mates. It's all very scientific really. Okay that's totally bullshit. There's about as much science involved in this as there is in Harry Potter. It basically comes down to dragging every fresh faced senior into the Beacon Hill Preserve, leaving them there over night and waiting to see if some damn stinky werewolf takes a shine to them.

And why? Because two hundred years ago a group of settlers wanted to build there damn little town in the middle of werewolf territory and were willing to sacrifice their sweet innocent sons and daughters to do so. And instead of it being a one time only deal, it was passed down from generation to generation, no explanation, no choice. Stiles had often had to question what freakin' century he was living in. Because it's seriously can't be the twenty-first.

There had been a moment about six years ago when it had looked like it was finally over. When the local pack, The Hales, had been caught up in a fire. They'd miraculously survived though. To carry on the enforced tradition. Though that might be giving a bad impression of The Hale. They aren't a pack of psycho slave masters or anything. Hell, Stiles was friends - and he uses that term very loosely indeed. - with a Hale. It was just that they were kinda like the big honchos of Beacon Hills. In a respect your mystical elders kinda way.

Everyone knew about the fire. Who'd started it and why. It had become a cautionary tale among humans and werewolves alike. Not everyone got picked and if you're not don't go insane and try to burn down the freakin' pack house. - Or maybe just make sure you do it right. Actually, strike that. Don't burn down the pack house. It never ends well for you.

Anyway, back to the present and Stiles; who is stood in his room, freakin' the hell out and telling himself it's really no big deal. - Lying to ones self is something of an art to Stiles Stilinski. - So what if he didn't get chosen? It wasn't the end of the world. There were only a handful of unattached wolves crowding Beacon Hills each year and an entire senior class to choose from. - And it wasn't like he actually wanted to be chosen, right? It wasn't as if he liked any of the Hales. Sure Cora was a bit of a babe. Really. But he knew she wasn't at all interested in him. If she had been, she wouldn't have waited till tonight to make her intensions known. After all, Erica had chosen Boyd back in sophomore year. Which had of course lead to Boyd being turned by the Alpha, with the full consent of his family.

That was often the outcome of a mating and yet another reason why Stiles really shouldn't care one inch about whether he was going to be picked. He had no interest in being a damn werewolf. No matter what Peter 'crazy pants' Hale said. And no matter that he felt like Gilligan ninety-five percent of the time around Scott, Boyd and Jackson. - Not to mention Erica, Cora and Lydia.

Ah. Lydia. Now if only she were a werewolf. Sadly though that was nought but a late night spank-bank fantasy, for three reasons. 1) She's immune to the damn bite which means no super-werewolf Lydia to rule the world. We should all be very grateful. 2) Even if she were a werewolf, she'd never, Seriously never, stake a claim on him. And 3) She'd pretty much been branded 'Property of Jackson Whittemore' since freshman year of junior high. So no chance of being picked by the girl of his dreams. So Stiles knew, beyond all doubt, he was going to emerge from those woods at dawn and be labelled unwanted.

Of course his dad had tried to convince him that not being chosen was the better option. It meant a normal life. After all, if he'd been chosen when he had been a senior he'd have never met Stiles mom, Claudia and there'd be no Stiles Stilinski. - Which the teenager was sure most of the town would have been quite happy with.

His dad was right though. Because seriously who'd want to be dragged into an insane world of horror movie clichés? Who'd want to have to deal with werewolves and their murderous mood swings? - Trust him, he knew all about those, thank you Scott McCall. Who'd want anything but a normal life?

Certainly not Stiles Stilinski.

A/N: For future reference there may be a few questionable pairing surrounding this fic. I am planning companion piece for two couple but that might have to wait until after I've finished this. I wanted to post them all at the same time, but the other two are have been kinda push aside for this one. Hopefully they won't be completely forgotten.

NOTE: "SAMHAIN, pronounced "sow'en" corresponds in time to Halloween. Samhain translates prosaically as "Summer's end." It marks the end of the light half of the Celtic year and the beginning of the dark half. The border between years is distinguished by the lack of border between worlds. The veil between realms may be penetrated. According to legend, the Irish deities the Dagda and the Morrigan consummate their relationship today to ensure the fertility of land, people and animals for the year to come." [the Element Encyclopaedia of Witch Craft. - Illes, Judika. 2005]

This is one of the reason's I chose to set this story at Halloween rather than any other time of year.