How I Met the Alpha

Stiles peered from under his vantage point beneath the cascading leaves and flowering vines that covered the low lying wall with its fragrant scent. Shifting his position carefully along the top of the old stone wall he moved slowly so as not to alert any observant eyes to his presence. Not that anyone was looking.

The day was bright, the sky a glorious blue that drew people out to attend the last day of the Jubilee fair. The grounds were packed with bustling people trying to get the best deals from vendors urgently trying to make their last sale of the day. Crowds shifted and flowed like currents in a river as people, from the well-kept lackeys striding haughtily to the unclaimed who scurried, eyes downcast to the dirt at their feet, to keep out of the way of their betters. People of all types swirled amidst the multitude of tents and carts. There were even a few True Wolves among the colorful kiosks, their fluid movements giving lie to their human appearance.

Most of the tents and buildings proudly flew pack colors; the prevalent flag among the many was the gold wolf courant upon a field of dark blue. The proud flag of the Hale Pack who controlled most of the city and by default all the humans who lived within its borders flew in some form from every tent and cart at the fair. Everyone was eager to show their loyalty during the Jubilee Fair and the show of colors had grown more garnish as the month wore on. Many of the Claimed, humans belonging to a pack, had started dressing in Pack colors and gold wolf jewelry had become the must have item this season.

The inner section of the fair was filled with the well off, those that belonged to pack but beyond the colorful tents, past an unmarked border that seemed to be etched in the ground, was where the omegas settled to do business.

The grey tattered tents of the omegas created a wavering ring along the outside of the main fair. There were a few humans that approached these carts, their own threadbare clothing showing that they were unclaimed, and the lowest of the low. The omegas bartered haughtily with each human, their eyes flashing with distain. They might be the bottom of the wolf pecking order but even a lowly omega was better than an unclaimed human.

Stiles eyed one such cart, its contents filled with an array of small discolored fruit surly the leavings of the more well to do packs; the unwanted for the unwanted. He watched as a group of unclaimed bargained for a basket full of fruit. A few dollars exchanged hands and the humans scurried away. Stiles rubbed his money between the thin folds of his pocket; four pennies and a button, not enough for even the saddest of the fruit on the omega's cart.

While the unclaimed had a slight chance of finding a decent job, an under aged, undocumented unclaimed had no chance at all. He pushed him palm against his stomach to fight against the gnawing pain of hunger as his mouth continued to water at the sight of the food so temptingly close. Being caught would, at best, get him sent back to the pack run home for orphans and Stiles would rather go hungry than return to that nightmare.

The pack orphanages for humans were little better than a kennel and the children were treated as no more than cheap labor. He had spent three years of his life in one until four months ago. The food had been awful, the beds a travesty, and the dorm rooms packed with the press of unwashed, frightened children. Stiles hated it but his last straw had been when he was beaten for organizing the younger kids into an off key retention of 'Food, Glorious Food'. Who had thought a bunch of lowly claimed would be so offended by an Oliver Twist production? Though it might have been more about the Hale Pack's yearly inspection than the singing performance.

Maybe the unusual detail paid to the boys' bathing habits and the supply of new clothing should have tipped Stiles off that something important was happening. The fact that there was real food on the tables and not the slurry they were normally served should have screamed that he was supposed to be on his best behavior. He had missed all the warnings but the look on Mrs. Argent's face as she stood behind the laughing alpha, that warning he received loud and clear.

Before the dark car had even left the gates of the orphanage, Stiles was being dragged to the basement for punishment. Three days later they let him back out making sure that all the others saw and understood the consequences of disobedience.

His back was a tangle of cuts ranging from shallow lines to deep ragged wounds that seeped and dried to his clothing. The boys in his dorm horded salt that they added to buckets of rain water, pouring the contents over him at night to try to keep the infection at bay. Fever and a fractured ankle didn't excuse Stiles from his workload and he found himself having to be carried by the other boys out to the yard. Each of his dorm mates did a little extra so that Stiles' quota would be filled; he had done that himself in the past, each boy taking turns protecting the weak and sick. You never knew when it would be your turn, when you would need to be carried.

While his back and ankle healed Stiles planned and plotted. Sharp eyes soon spotted the weak connection on the back fence and after a couple of days working at the links there was a gap large enough for a skinny boy to slide through. No one tried to talk him out of his escape plan but neither did they offer to join him on the run.

Once his ankle was able to support his weight as he worked all day, his back covered with the slowly flaking scabs and angry scars of the whip, Stiles made his escape. With nothing but the ragged clothes on his back and a few horded slices of stale bread, Stiles burrowed under the wobbly chain link fence and ran away, never looking back.

It hadn't been so bad at first. Sleeping under the open sky was an adventure, the view of the bright stars bringing back memories of camping trips with his parents, of a time before the crash that left him alone in a world that had little care for one lone human.

It was a Jubilee Year and the Wolves had been more than generous, throwing concerts and outdoor events on a weekly basis to celebrate the fourteenth year of their ascendance. Yeah, the human race was now just glorified slaves but hey, there was free music and our bellies were full so who the fuck cared. The massive amount of food thrown wastefully into trash cans had filled Stiles' belly completely for the first time in three years.

But the Jubilee was coming to a close and fall was just around the corner which meant that finding enough scraps to keep his belly full was becoming impossible. The last week had been lean, his meals few and far between. So when the apple equivalent to the runt of the litter fell off the table and rolled to his feet, Stiles didn't even hesitate. Leaning down he snatched off the ground and took a bite before even thinking. He knew, with the first juicy crunch, that he was in trouble.

"You going to pay for that boy?" The owner of the cart was a burly wolf with close set eyes and a cruel turn to his lips. Stiles had watched him take advantage of the unclaimed humans for the past half hour and knew that there was little mercy lurking behind his bilge water brown eyes. Taking in the human boy's scruffy appearance the fruit seller jumped to a logical yet damning conclusion. "Thief!"

Dodging out of range of sausage sized grabbing fingers Stiles ran down the winding path away from the crowds and head long into the quickly responding Pack security. They were just claimed betas, humans deemed worthy enough to be turned and offered a place within the pack, but they were more than a match for a skinny boy.

The two men grabbed Stiles as he tried to twist out of their way. One managed to get a handful of the loose fabric at the shoulder of his long sleeved shirt and started to reel Stiles closer. Dropping to the ground, his body slack and arms raised overhead, Stiles left his shirt dangling in the clawed grip of the beta as he turned, ducked under a pastry cart and over the vine covered half wall that circled the market. City traffic roared its dominance as he darted across four lanes of screeching cars, running from the Wolves.

Chest tight with panic, the apple that started it all long forgotten in the dust, Stiles ran down the crowded city streets. Wolves had little tolerance for law breakers. The first offense was a public beating. The second...well, no human really knew because the person stupid enough to have a second offense was never seen again. Stiles knew he was screwed. Even if he could manage to get out of direct line of sight with the Wolves they had his scent, thanks to his shirt he had left behind, and would be able to track him through the city streets.

He careened into a group of girls, scattering their shopping bags, and then bounced off an older couple walking hand in hand as they took up most of the sidewalk for their afternoon stroll. The cries of alarm and anger that trailed behind him alerted the Wolves further down the sidewalk. Flickers of blue and amber eyes turned his direction and Stiles' chances of escaping narrowed to a slim impossibility.

Desperate he put on a burst of speed looking over his shoulder at the gaining betas as he turned another corner, too distracted by the looks of fury to bother to look where he was going.

He slammed into the Wolf with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs but it seemed to have almost no effect on the dark haired Alpha. Strong arms wrapped around him to keep him from falling backwards, pressing him to a chest that seemed to be made of granite. Stiles' eyes met the widening red tinted gaze of the Wolf for a split second before the realization of how deep the shit he had stepped in really was and he pulled away from his hold.

"Oh, Shit. You're an alpha!" Backing away Stiles managed to trip over his own two feet, slamming ass first into the side walk just as the two betas turned the corner, grabbing him on either side before he could manage to regain his feet.

AN: For once I am posting a story that is almost completely written instead of my usual WIP. I will update on Sundays.

Please leave a review! Keeps my fingers happily tapping away at the keyboard.