AN: Peter is absent from this story, but perhaps he will make an appearance in sequels if I get to them. This is my first Teen Wolf story! Hope everyone likes it :). Part two is already written, and I will probably post it within the next week. I'll add tags as I think of them.

Pairing: Derek/Stiles

The Web of Wyrd

Chapter 1

Stiles was bored. And not just in the moment bored, but rather, completely tired of the life he was currently living to the point of even being a slug would be better bored. It was the same old thing every single day. Get up, go to school, go to bed, repeat. Sure, he had friends, well mostly just Scott, but Scott was awesome and counted as at least three people. And sure, he had video games, and books, and television to watch. But something was missing, something important, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Stiles sighed, taking a swig of soda before kicking his chair away from his desk. He rolled it across the ground backwards, inching over to the window. It took quite a bit of creaking and shifting around, but eventually he managed to rock it in a way that allowed the back of his head to rest atop the window sill. Stiles let out a long sigh, staring up at the nearly full moon with a pout as he scrunched up his nose.

"Know what would be cool?" Stiles muttered, holding up his pop can as he gestured to nothing in particular.

"Vampires," he said, letting his tongue run out along his bottom lip. He frowned, his vision blurring as he squinted at the moon. There was a halo around it, and hardly any clouds in the sky. It was one of those rare nights when the stars were visible, despite the city lights lingering below. The sight was absolutely mesmerizing. Stiles blinked a few times and sat up, twisting around in the chair. His arms thwacked against the sill and he propped his chin on top of them, pressing his lips to the cold aluminum can in his hand.

"Yeah…everyone loves vampires," he thought out loud with a decisive nod.

"I'm not asking for much, just a little excitement around here," Stiles mused, his leg bouncing up and down in anticipation.

"What do you say, moon?" Stiles asked, giving the moon one last searching stare. It didn't answer.

Despite the moon's quiet demeanour, a few days later something actually did happen. Scott got bitten by a werewolf, and as it turned out, vampires still didn't exist.

It was late in the afternoon and the two teens were shuffling around in the forest looking for Scott's inhaler, Stiles providing a running commentary while his friend moved leaves and grass around in a hurry. It seemed like a fruitless effort, and Stiles paused for a moment, moving to lean against the biggest tree he'd ever seen. He took a second to bask in the sheer grandeur of nature, ignoring his friend's struggle just for a moment. The hefty branches hung over them ominously, but Stiles found himself reaching out to touch the bark, blinking in surprise at the feeling of calm that overcame him. He was peering at the gigantic roots curiously when he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. Stiles startled and looked up, staring right into the one and only Derek Hale's steely hazel gaze.

It was the last person he expected to see, someone he honestly hadn't thought about for years. Not since that fire was all over the front page of the papers. He was older, different than Stiles remembered from the black and white image, and yet, so very familiar. Stiles let his gaze roam up the worn jeans and leather clad jacket, falling to rest on a startlingly intense glare. He could have sworn those eyes flashed gold.

Stiles jerked unconsciously, his knees weakening slightly as his heart skipped a beat, and then he was slapping his friend on the shoulder to get his attention. Derek wasn't even looking at him, but Stiles still felt the implication behind that stare, that the other man could kill him in a matter of seconds. He reeked of danger, and Stiles knew if he made one wrong move, he would regret ever looking into those eyes to begin with.

Scott was stiff at his side, just as terrified and confused by the sudden appearance in the forest, but perhaps not quite as enthralled, and much better at hiding his reaction. Stiles couldn't resist peering at Derek from beneath his eyelashes, sneaking glances while still trying to look innocent and indifferent. But his interest was glaringly obvious. His mouth hung open, and he was breathing heavier than normal. He couldn't stop fidgeting, his head jerking towards the stoic man constantly to get a better look. Stiles took in the dark hair, chiselled jaw, and lowered brow, and then those eyes flicked towards him and Stiles looked away in a hurry and nearly choked on his own saliva. The dude was godlike, and definitely intimidating.

Then he spoke, and damn that voice went straight to Stiles' groin.

Apparently tall, dark, and handsome, with a side helping of angst, thrilled him in a way he never expected. Oh and…apparently he wasn't quite as straight as he thought either.

His crush on Lydia was never the same after that.

Okay so maybe Stiles was a bit jealous of his best friend.

Scott had a girlfriend, good looks, a superpower of sorts, and he managed to snag first line on the lacrosse team to boot, while Stiles was little more than a gangly teenager struggling to feel comfortable in his own skin. He wished something could take away his ADHD, like it had Scott's asthma. He wished he was good enough at lacrosse to play in even one game instead of holding his permanent bench warming position. And he even kind of wished he was the one that was a werewolf instead, though he kept that hidden deep down inside, pretending to thoroughly enjoy his meagre human life. He didn't need to listen to another rant about how hard it was being a wolf.

Yep, he was definitely jealous, and that pissed him off. He wasn't even the type to feel envy. Not in the way he currently did. Stiles prided himself on his loyalty, on being the guy that was always there when help was needed. Usually that meant prowling the net for answers to life's impossible questions, or showing up with burgers and a movie every Friday night. Now it was a little different. Burgers on Friday night turned into stake outs at whatever location was reporting suspicious supernatural activity, and prowling the net for answers morphed into researching about said supernatural activity.

In an effort to support his friend and ward off his developing green monster, Stiles made a point of getting involved in absolutely everything that involved Scott's werewolf life. He had to know all the little details, no matter how insignificant. What did the transformation feel like from start to finish? What was it like to literally howl at the moon? Exactly how long did it take for a wound to close, and how did that vary depending on the severity of said wound? He wanted to be there, he wanted to be a part of the action, even if that meant following Scott around like a lost puppy. Stiles was living vicariously through his friend and it was working pretty well for the most part.

But then there was Derek. The part of this whole shindig that actually bothered him the most.

At present time, the dude was doing chin-ups on a doorframe like he did them every day. He probably did. But it was still no excuse for the imagery laid out before Stiles's roaming brown eyes. There was sweat slickened skin, rippling muscles, biceps bigger than his thighs, though he hadn't gotten close enough to quite make that comparison yet. Derek Hale, was pretty much the most perfect specimen ever to walk on two legs, and sometimes four.

It was disgusting in a way. It almost made Stiles want to puke. Not because he found it unattractive, but rather because it made his gut churn with such intense desire that he wasn't sure he could keep his lunch down. He wanted Derek more than he'd ever wanted anyone else, and that said something considering he'd harboured a crush on a single person for the better part of his young life. There was also the suspicious voice lurking in the back of his mind, the one that told him this was more than just want. Something bigger, something more…serious. But that was a matter for another day.

Stiles licked his lips and willed away the flush working its way up his neck. Scott was already looking at him strangely, like he could hear every thought running through his friend's mind, and Stiles really didn't need the added visual cues to confirm any of his speculations.

Seriously though, no human should have looked like that. That damned good. Stiles took a moment to remind himself that Derek wasn't exactly human, and in fact a werewolf, but still.

Derek lowered himself from the door frame, stretching out his arms and showing off even more muscles as his shoulders flexed from the motion. Stiles swallowed. His little, in actuality quite big, crush was completely futile, and that fact was further cemented in stone when Derek directed a dark glare at him before pulling on a worn shirt. There was a tensing motion in the werewolf's unshaven jaw, and nothing but pure hatred reflected in his body language. The guy despised Stiles, and likely always would. The teen's heart rate quickened regardless, and cold eyes flicked towards his chest before looking back at his face, almost as though the man had heard the change in pace. Stiles raised an eyebrow and wondered if Scott was withholding information from him. He really needed to do more research on werewolves.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Derek practically growled. The question was directed at Scott, even though he was doing his absolute best to burn a hole into Stiles with only his gaze.

"He's my friend," Scott answered, tensing slightly when he quickly became the subject of Derek's anger.

"If you want me here, then he comes too," Scott insisted, and Stiles felt a small bit of pride at that. He raised his chin in a falsely cocky way, his eyebrows dancing strangely on his face. He immediately took back any and all negativity he'd directed at Scott in recent days. Scott was the best friend he could have asked for, Scott had his back.

Derek sneered at them, his teeth clenching viciously. He could have said no. Stiles knew that. No matter what Scott said, he needed the other werewolf's guidance. He needed to learn how to control his wolf. It was getting to the point where he was putting his friends in danger. Stiles had tried to help him, staying with him through his first full moon, keeping him chained up, for a time. Neither of them had expected Scott to break free, to lash out at Stiles and throw him into a bookshelf. He still had the bruises to prove it, and he was lucky it hadn't been worse.

Stiles rubbed at his injured shoulder unconsciously, waiting nervously while Derek looked between them both.

"Fine," Derek hissed, and then he stepped closer, pressing a finger into Scott's chest in warning.

"If he gets hurt, it's on you."

The first time a real threat showed its face in Beacon Hills Stiles designated himself as the official driver as an excuse to tag along. Dead animals began turning up on the roads outside of the preserve, along with a total of two murders at the hands of a bear. But the wounds didn't look like they came from something so small, and bears were pretty large, so wasn't that a frightening thought. Stiles had managed to get an up close look at the bodies, despite his father's warnings to stay away, and he was sure, it had to be another werewolf. A big one.

Derek suspected the work of a lone alpha. They weren't sure if it had turned anyone, but the possibility was there, and became more likely the longer the alpha was left to its own devices. Derek even suspected it might have been the one that attacked Scott, and that put a fiery determination in the young werewolf's eyes unlike anything Stiles had ever seen before.

The three of them met late into the night, climbing into the jeep and heading off towards the edge of the preserve. Stiles pulled off the road and parked his jeep just outside one of the fences blocking off the area, already feeling the nerves brewing in his stomach. He was excited to face off against a monster, had even thrown a bat in the backseat to use as his weapon.

"Time to kick some ass," Stiles muttered, and he had just begun unbuckling his seatbelt when Derek pushed him back with a forceful hand.

"Stay here," Derek barked, leaving no room for argument, and Stiles sputtered indignantly, his eyes imploring Scott to step in and say something in his defence.

"He's right, it's too dangerous," Scott said instead, and Stiles gaped at him for a few moments, watching as they stepped out of the jeep and shut the doors. He shook his head in disbelief, slapping his hands against his thighs in defeat as he watched the two werewolves disappear between the trees. It pissed him off that they thought he wasn't capable of helping. He hadn't gotten involved just to sit back and watch, and he certainly hadn't driven all the way out there to hide away in his jeep like some kind of coward.

Stiles bounced his leg up and down anxiously, peering into the dark for a sign of movement, growing increasingly impatient as the seconds wore on. A quick glance at the clock showed him that exactly four minutes had passed and he crossed his arms and sat back in the seat with a huff. He checked his phone for texts, considered sending one to Scott, but ultimately figured that would make him seem even more pathetic than usual.

Another minute passed, and Stiles sniffled and scrunched up his nose, warding off an itch. There was still nothing visible in the shadows. He squinted at the red digits on his display, daring the numbers to change, and when the next minute passed Stiles threw up his arms anxiously.

"Screw it!" Stiles hissed, and he unbuckled his seatbelt and reached back to grab the bat. He hurried out of the jeep, checking the surrounding road for cars or pedestrians and then hopped over the fence, landing hard atop the grass on the other side. Stiles snuck between the trees, bending low and listening carefully to his surroundings. He couldn't see much, and after tripping for the fourth time, he pulled out his phone for light. Leaves crunched beneath his feet, and Stiles startled when he thought he heard something behind him. He twisted, lighting up the area, but found nothing but trees.

"Guys?" he whispered, hoping to get an answer back, but there was nothing. Nothing but the sound of rustling leaves and branches creaking as the trees shifted on the wind. His heart rate picked up, and he swallowed nervously, taking a few steps deeper into the woods. It was eerily quiet, and Stiles nearly contemplated returning to the jeep when he heard several howls sound out to his left. His breath hitched, and he was running between the trees before he had time to think. Branches scratched against his face, the light from his phone flashing all over the place.

A clearing came into view up ahead, and Stiles skidded to a halt at the edge of it, stopping just in time to watch as Scott was thrown into a tree. His friend cried out, changing back to his human appearance as he groaned on the ground. Stiles panted as he watched a brute of a creature bare its teeth and stretch out huge claws. It was enormous, more beastlike than wolf, and not what Stiles had in mind when he pictured an alpha at all. And then it turned on Derek, crouching low to the ground and snapping its jaw in warning.

Stiles cursed under his breath, and he jumped out into the clearing, flailing his arms wildly in an attempt to distract it.

"Hey! Dog breath!" he shouted, drawing the attention of all three wolves. Scott's eyes were narrowed in pain, but the look of horror at his friend's sudden appearance was still apparent in his features. Derek looked furious, his golden eyes reflecting the moonlight in a terrifying way. And then red eyes turned on him and Stiles froze under the scrutiny of the alpha. He knew that werewolves were vicious, capable of tearing bodies literally in half. He'd seen the dead remains of Derek's sister, had nearly thrown up on site. But for some reason the danger had never sunk in before. Not until he was looking at…whatever that was.

Stiles trembled, his eyes wide as his brain stopped functioning altogether. There was a moment, where his limbs failed to communicate with his mind. Run. Run damn it. He jerked and then skittered back into the trees, the bat falling from his grasp just as the alpha scrambled across the ground in his direction. Stiles lunged, running faster than he ever had in his life before. He was near certain his speed in that moment would have earned him a spot on first line, had anyone been around to witness it. Apparently all it took was imminent death to up his athletic ability. His phone slipped from his fingers, but he ignored it, hyper aware of the heavy claws slamming into the earth not far behind him. He didn't know how he managed to stay upright. By all rights he should have stumbled over hundreds of roots, but his body flew over them with an ease he never had before in his desperation to escape. The growling neared, and Stiles squinted as air rushed into his eyes. He saw the gap in land ahead too late to change direction, vaguely remembering that there was a tiny river flowing through that section of the woods. He gasped for air, his eyes stinging to the point that moisture ran from the corners and down the sides of his face.

There was no way he was going to make that jump. Stiles shook his head with a choked cry and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt his feet slamming into the earth one last time, pushing off with as much force as he could muster, while he prayed to whatever gods existed to help keep him from plunging into the rocky depths below. He could feel the wind on his face, cool and shocking. His hoodie flew out behind his body, flapping against his back. He was weightless for a moment, before gravity kicked in, pulling him down towards the ground, and Stiles opened his eyes approximately three inches before getting a face full of dirt. The pain blindsided him, and he coughed as the impact winded him. He reached out desperately to grasp at the grass and roots sticking up from the soil, barely managing to keep himself from falling off the ledge. He was clinging to the dirt like a rodent, his fingers scrambling to keep him from sliding backwards. His legs were dangling beneath him, his knees chafing against the rocky ledge, but he sighed in relief when he realised he hadn't fallen headfirst into a boulder at the bottom of the river below.

Stiles gasped for breath, turning to look behind him. The alpha snarled at him, and then to Stiles' surprise, took a running jump, flying over the gap as well. Stiles saw it in slow motion, the wolf's muscled body, contorted limbs. He saw red eyes flashing in the moonlight, and felt the power as its body shook the ground on contact just a few feet from his straining arms. It turned on him, baring sharp teeth, saliva running out over its jaw, and Stiles felt his heart seize up as every muscle in his body tensed. For all his wishing to get turned, his jealousy of Scott, he suddenly didn't want the bite at all, not from that thing. He didn't want those fangs within ten metres of his body, no sir. A claw slammed down on his arm, and Stiles cried out, his life flashing before his eyes. There was hot breath in his face, pointed teeth, and then a gunshot so loud it made his ears ring.

The wolf jerked away from him with a howl, and Stiles peered out into the darkness at the approaching silhouettes, before he let go of the ground in fear.

"Shi-," Stiles faltered, and his body rolled along the dirt, sliding against loose rocks and roots before he tumbled into the river and sunk below the surface. Cool water encased him, his clothing weighing him down. His heartbeat was loud and heavy in his ears, and he inhaled without thinking, panicking slightly as water filled his lungs. Stiles fought against the current of the stream, eyes widening when he saw lights flashing over the surface of the river above him. He swam best he could, blinking towards where he thought the other side might be. His lungs strained, and he felt fear strike his core again, just as someone grabbed him by the back of his hoodie.

Stiles wheezed as air entered his lungs, panting as his body was dragged across the ground and away from the hunters and searchlights on the other side of the ravine. He could hear shouting, more gunshots, and then someone hoisted him up. A moment later he was pushed back against something solid, and Derek was in his face.

"Are you an idiot?! What were you thinking?" the werewolf hissed, teeth gritted as his eyes searched Stiles' face for answers. A clawed hand pressed against his collarbone, making it difficult for him to catch his breath, and Stiles winced when he was shoved back hard once again.

"Dude, holy…ugh! Watch it. Human here, remember?" Stiles spat out, and he coughed some water from his lungs with a grimace. His arm was already dotted with bruises. It didn't feel broken, but there were tons of scratches along his skin, brought on by the branches and rocks he'd decided to dance a little to close with on his run. He could feel the stinging pain along his legs and sides. Derek's eyes narrowed, and he eased off slightly, but still kept his fingers coiled around the base of the teen's neck.

"He saved your life, both our lives. Let him go," Scott whispered as he hobbled up beside them. He was bleeding pretty badly from his arm, and there was a gash on his thigh, but he already seemed to be recovering from the injuries. Stiles' eyed the sealing wounds enviously.

"Hey, look, I'm alive and breathing, I'm not experiencing any wolfy symptoms, all's good. Everything went as planned," Stiles explained. His gaze shifted to the side, and he listened briefly, noticing that the hunters had gone away.

"Don't act like this was some genius scheme of yours. You were lucky," Derek growled, and he pushed away, leaving Stiles feeling strangely cold. His pants and shirt clung to his body, and water dripped from his hair down his face. He just barely held in a shiver and focused on wringing out the sopping fabric hanging from his form.

"Luck is valuable, one of us needs to be the lucky one," Stiles muttered with a pout. He was glad it was him. Scott patted him on the shoulder, silently apologizing when Stiles flinched away from the painful touch, but it was forgotten in a moment when his friend pressed his abandoned cell between his fingers. Stiles grinned, pulling the werewolf into a quick hug.

"Dude, you're the best!" he said with an excited laugh.

"Come on," Derek grumbled, gesturing with an impatient nod, and Stiles and Scott followed behind him quickly.

"What about the alpha?" Stiles asked, turning to look behind them worriedly. He didn't want to be at the mercy of such a creature again anytime soon if he could help it.

"It's gone," Derek said. Stiles glared at his leather clad back.

"Gone…like…ran away gone or…," Stiles drawled, and Derek turned his head so that the outline of his profile was visible against the moonlight.

"Dead."

Stiles gulped at the finality of that response and shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to ignore the uncomfortable squelching of his shoes. He wasn't sure if hunters or werewolves were more threatening at that point. He didn't care to find out.