Salutations! Right off the bat, this is my first fanfiction, I'll admit it. I have done a lot of writing but never a fanfiction. But then Sterek came all. I'm sure you can understand.

Author notes can be dull, so I'll keep it quick with information you need to know. This is based after episode 9 "Party Guessed," but one important thing to know is I am taking creative liberties (hence, fanfiction) but will try my best to keep some things canon to the series. I will frequent dialogue and scenes from the episodes that involve our two leading gentlemen, but will add a different dimension to follow the plot of this story. Oh, and Peter is dead. I decided I didn't want to deal with him because there is enough layers to deal with as it is. Also, Stiles speculation at the beginning of the story about Matt and Jackson is actually rambles on my own thoughts before episode 10 "Fury," the inaccuracy of it will be addressed as the story continues.

There are some others things I feel the need to explain but this will do you for now. Please enjoy!

I disclaim any ownership to Teen Wolf, it rests in the capable and talented hands of Jeff Davis.

Taste Your Beating Heart

Drag My Teeth

There is a good reason Stiles is trekking through the wood in the middle of the night; just like every time before this. But, of course, Stiles has conveniently forgot what usually occurs on said midnight strolls. This time, however, he has a good reason, no a very good reason. What he holds in his head could quite possibly be the answer to all their problems. It was an epiphany really. He had been at home, snuggled under a mountain of soft sheets while the graces of sleep had been granting him utter blissfulness when – bam! Brilliance.

It had been a couple of days since Lydia's party had gone from rad to completely and terribly bad. He is still trying to figure out what went wrong there. Allison has all but ceased communication with Scott since word about her mother committing herself no longer one of the living. They say it was from depression. Stiles thinks otherwise. But it isn't his place to comment, and he understands more than anyone the empty hole Allison has probably fallen into and knows how long it can take to crawl back out of. So, Stiles has invoked a vow of silence on the matter.

But no, tonight is about what Scott had seen amongst the sea of raging, funny-juiced teenagers bolting from Lydia's house like they had unearthed Coach Finstock's underwear drawer – Matt. Matt and a kanima-ed out Jackson apparently were looking all buddy-buddy in a menacing I-am-going-to-kill-you kind of way.

While laying motionless on his bed, Stiles had been slapped with a big fat epiphany. The '06 swim team, Matt not being able to swim, the kanima being afraid of water, Jackson saving Matt, Jackson being the captain of the swim team – and okay, there are some holes but somehow Matt is connected to the '06 swim team killings and controlling Jackson. Stiles remembers Jackson saying in that heart-attack inducing interrogation at the Rave, "they had killed me," so maybe the '06 swim team had drowned someone, making them murders, which are prime targets for a kanima's hit list. And with Jackson being the head of the swim team it is just a healthy dose of irony. Stiles isn't above believing Matt could be possessed by some vengeful spirit. By now, ghosts seem totally normal in this strange land he has been catapulted into.

As far as awesomeness goes, Stiles has hit the high score. He should get a Nobel Prize or maybe a statue of himself, at least. With Scott trying (failing) to console Allison, and Derek still licking his wounds over nearly losing control of his pack on the night of the full moon (as Stiles was told by Scott, which prompted a well meaning fit of laughter celebrating the blunder of the great and powerful Alpha), Stiles has had a lot of alone time to contemplate these daunting issues.

Needless to say, Stiles finds himself meeting tree roots and unyielding rocks with the tender parts of his toes in the middle of the night-blanketed forest to tell Mr. Sourwolf himself of his revelation. He had called Scott but no answer was received on Stiles's end so Stiles texted him to get his werewolf ass to Derek's house ASAP. With this discovery it could not wait until morning, besides Stiles is eager to gloat.

Derek may or may not know that Stiles is calling an emergency meeting at his house depending on if he regularly checks his voice mail. Stiles knows him well enough that Derek wouldn't pick up the phone with him being the one calling, but maybe there is an annoying flashing light that will persuade Derek into listening to Stiles's well thought out message. Maybe. Maybe is one of Derek's many middle names. Maybe, Dangerous, Brooding, Frowny, Rippling Muscles, etc…

With several stumbles, a few near tumbles, and one good ol' fashion face plant into the bosom of Mother Earth, Stiles has made it to Derek's house. His jeep, you may wonder, is still on the road because one of the headlights is out and the other one is uncomfortably dim, and Stiles doesn't want to go driving through an unpredictable forest at night.

He walks up the rotting steps and doesn't stop to bother with knocking. Derek probably already knows he is here and is waiting in a dark corner so he can jump out and scare Stiles.

"Hey Derek! I know it's past your bedtime, but you are going to love me forever once you hear what I figured out!" Stiles preambles because it is his time to shine. He scopes out the foyer and peers up the staircase, and then decides Derek must be waiting in the basement for him. He is a little surprised that Erica, Boyd, or Isaac is not up here to greet him like the good, obedient puppies that they are. Then again, they might be punished for acting naughty on the night of the full moon. Stiles grins at the image of the three of them roped to the wall by (heavy duty) dog leashes.

Stiles starts to the basement door when suddenly he notices a familiar pair of sinister red eyes lurking in the doorway to the kitchen.

"There you are. Is Scott here yet, cause I told him to be here? No? Well, I'm just going to tell you instead of waiting for him because I, my wolfy friend, am a genius. I know you knew this, but I have undisputable proof in case you doubted me. It's about Jackson and that creep Matt, and the swim team, and you don't look like you are listening to me." Stiles halts when he realizes those sinister red eyes haven't moved and are looking more sinister the more he keeps talking.

"Hey man, why don't you come out of the dark and into the light? I know you have a thing for showing off your Alpha-ness but this is actually important. I know, weird, but give me some credit." Stiles gestures with his hands and takes a step forward. A step he really shouldn't have taken.

Derek does indeed remove himself from his shadowy hiding spot, but he doesn't look right. His features are wolf-ed out.

"Okay, maybe this is a bad time. I can come back tomorrow." Stiles fumbles back, and Derek growls. Not like an I-am-crabby-at-you growl, but an I-am-a-werewolf-fear-me growl.

"Okay, you're the boss." Stiles holds up his hands like he is about to be arrested as Derek creeps out, hunched over but not quite walking on his hands and feet. He is growling within the hollow basin of his chest, rumbling like a far off storm. Those crimson eyes of his are blazing and his fangs are glinting. He approaches Stiles until he is invading his personal space. Stiles turns his head to the side to keep Derek's fangs from tearing off his face but just realizes he is giving him better access to his carotid artery. Well, maybe it'll just make it quicker? Hopefully.

"I'm sorry that I woke you from your beauty sleep, I didn't mean too. Well, I did, but I regret it, and I am more than happy to get out of your hair." Stiles whispers and glances at Derek still butting into his bubble. Derek's eyes flicker up to meet Stiles's, making the human's heart thump like a rabbit warning danger. Derek snarls and forces Stiles to the ground with a powerful slam of his clawed hand.

Stiles grunts when his backside gracelessly hits the wood floor. He flails a bit, wanting to get up, afraid of being underneath the mercy of an Alpha werewolf, but it is too late. Derek is down on all fours and looming over him. Stiles flattens, trying to get sucked in by the flooring like Johnny Depp in A Nightmare on Elm Street with his bed.

"Derek, come on, if you are trying to be funny, which you aren't, so you are probably just trying to prove a point, I completely get it. I'll leave. I'm sorry. I'll never bother you again." Derek is literally breathing down his neck. His claws are inches from his head. He can hear them clicking against the wood. Stiles is sweating beneath his flannel shirt and jeans from Derek's homicidal body heat. Where the hell is Scott's werewolf ass when he needs him!?

Derek then begins to… inhale. Not like he is breathing to get oxygen. More like he is breathing in a scent. He pushes his nose into Stiles's shirt, nudging against the flannel and poking at the band t-shirt underneath. Stiles flinches when he feels a fang hook the fabric. He isn't sure if he should be more afraid of those fangs or the mere fact that Derek is smelling him. What the hell? Was Derek high off some of concoction of wolfsbane? Where the hell is the furry trio? Shouldn't they be monitoring their master's craziness right now, or are they passed out in the basement? Or maybe they are… Stiles sucks in his own breath when Derek moves closer to his throat. The werewolf buries his face into the crook of Stiles's collarbone, inhales and then moves to Stiles's face. Stiles meeps and squeezes his eyes shut. Please don't kill me, please don't kill me, please don't kill me. I have so much more to live for. Like Lydia, I still need to get her to notice me, to agree to let me hold her notebooks or something. And dad, I can't leave him like this. Not after what I did… and Scott. Well, he's already a mess, but at least I know where everything is in that mess, like entropy; organized chaos. Without me, he'll just be chaos. And, and… Derek's hand, paw, clawed paw is on his chest. His claws hook on the hem of his neck collar. Oh God.

Derek's arm jerks, and Stiles flinches in pain. Fabric is torn and something warm and wet leaks down Stiles's chest and over his shoulder. Oh my God, I'm going to die. I'm going to bleed to death. Or get eaten.Stiles's eyes remain determinedly shut; he doesn't want the ugly Alpha face to be the last thing that he sees. He pictures Lydia's glossy smile, Scott ogling at Allison, his dad laughing at a sitcom, but then his mind goes blank when he feels teeth against his neck.

Good, bad, terrible? Please do review, it would an honor. I actually have a small amount of pride with this story; Stiles and Derek came fairly easy for me to write, Stiles more so, of course. Derek was a challenge sometimes because he is a little hard to pinpoint. Even after I rewatched some episodes to do a character study of their speech and reactions. I want to stay true to the characters as much as possible.

Oh, and Florence and the Machine's "Howl" was a great inspiration, this can be demonstrated by the title and chapter names.