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Not all problems can be solved by Lycanthropy

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As the fangs punctured his skin, he immediately felt pain soaring through his body. The pressure of the bite increased until the alpha’s fangs were fully seated into the crook of his neck. They both stayed still, one out of fear, the other to prolong his victim’s suffering before ripping out his throat. Just when Stiles thought that Deucalion was going to rip out his jugular, his body suddenly fell lax. He released him from his grasp and fell to the ground. Leaving Stiles standing, still in fear of what he thought would be coming. But when Stiles turned around to see what had happened he saw an arrow sticking out of Deucalion’s head. It had pierced him right from the back of his skull to right between his eyes, killing him instantly.

After processing that Deucalion was in fact gone, he looked for the one who was responsible for saving his life. Unfortunately the stranger seemed to have disappeared in the darkness of the preserve.

Stiles just stood there for a while, too much in shock to even move away from the scene. When the adrenaline in his body slowly disappeared, the pain in his neck kicked in. Stiles’ eyes widened with the realisation of what just had happened.

He got bit by a fucking werewolf.

And not just any werewolf, an alpha.

Only an alpha’s bite can turn people, but it has to be done with intent. Right?

His goal was to kill Stiles, so he won’t turn now, right?

Or would his body reject the bite and kill him now?

As his mind played over one worst case scenario over the other he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Out of habit he immediately reached for his pocket to fish out his phone. When he looked at who was calling him he noticed that his hands were trembling. Pushing that fact aside, he would deal with it later or not at all, he read the name displayed on his phone and picked up.

“Allison” he said as he moved the phone up to his ear.

“Stiles, finally we got a hold of you. You need to get here quickly before we’ll all be buried underneath the Nemeton” She told him in an urgent tone.

With these words Stiles remembered what he was doing in the preserve in the first place. To stop the Darach, and free Chris, Melissa, and his dad.
Stiles hung up, pocketed his phone, located his bat that he had dropped when he got attacked and ran towards the direction of the Nemeton.

He got there just in time to place his bat under one of the supporting wooden beams to stop the whole structure from collapsing. They all sighed in relief after the danger had passed.

A few minutes later Scott and Derek found them and helped them out. Stiles was the last to be pulled out of the underground hide-out. When Derek grabbed his arms to hoist him out he grunted in pain. Again he had forgotten about his injury, plus no one had seen the bite mark and blood in the dark. So he simply hadn’t paid attention to it. He was far too relieved that his dad was okay.

When Stiles finally was above ground Derek got a good look at him with sock displayed on his face. He quickly grabbed Stiles’ chin, and turned it away from where the bite-mark was placed on his neck, making the wound more visible.

With the stretch of the skin Stiles flinched away from the pain and quickly covered his neck with his hand, hoping no one else would notice.

“Who?” Derek asks in a soft tone, giving him the worried Hale eyebrow glare.

Stiles was looking at his feet to avoid the glare, and mumbled “Deucalion”.

Derek’s body seemed to be frozen after those words, and Stiles didn’t know what to do so..
“Don’t worry. It’s not that bad. He’s dead anyway. An arrow suddenly woosh went right through his head, and yeah I’m here so it’s obvious he didn’t kill me. I mean, like, it doesn’t really hurt that much. It’ll heal in time I guess. I think when I broke my leg in eighth grade it hurt far worse. At least that’s how I remember it. It won’t kill me, right?’

After those last words he finally looked up from his ramblings to see everyone looking at him with worried looks. He let his hand fall from his neck, and gave a defeated look at his pack.

He didn’t have time to tell everyone he was fine before he was pulled in for a hug by Derek. One by one the others joined the hug. Stiles just kept mumbling that he was okay, that it was fine.

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The rest of the night went by in a blur for Stiles.
Melissa cleaned his wound, he and his dad went home.
They hugged it out a bit before he collapsed on his bed.

Almost as soon as his body hit the bed he didn’t fall asleep has he expected he would. The daze he had been in the past few hours lifted, leaving his mind awfully clear. He finally got to think about what happened that night. The panic started to kick in with full force. His breath shortened, he found couldn’t breathe. Reaching with his hands for his hair to grab and rake through it in frustration. A panic attack, exactly what he needed right now. Stiles tried to calm himself down by breathing in for seven seconds and exhaling eleven seconds. A technique he had learned when he was younger and was handling panic attacks more frequently. Very slowly his breathing got back to normal, and he drifted away into a dreamless sleep.

He slept undisturbed until 4 p.m. He woke up with a start, from a dream he couldn’t remember. Gasping and thrashing around he fell off the bed with a loud thud.

Now that he was awake he immediately grabbed his head and groaned out. All around him there was too much noise, the house, he heard every movement caused by the wind. Every movement made by the people inside. The creaks in the pipes. It was all too overwhelming and he couldn’t tune it out. Then he tried to focus on the sounds in his rooms only. But with Stiles’ luck the opposite of what he wanted happened. His hearing range widened even more. He now heard the neighbours fighting in the house across the street. Kids playing on the streets a few blocks away. And all the rumbling of the car engines.

It felt like he had been laying on the ground for hours when he heard what he expected to be was Scott walk up the stairs towards his room. The door to his room opened, he could hear it creak in its hinges. When Stiles opened his eyes, it was a whole new revelation. All the colours were far more bright, and the light coming from outside was almost unbearably bright. When he focused on more details he could see the paint brush strokes on the wall, where he had painted it poorly, the slight cracks in the wooden floor, and many more details. It was like suddenly he saw everything in super, super high definition. In some ways it was beautiful, but the pain the light caused him wasn’t something he liked at all.

Distracted by the new details he could see in his room he hadn’t noticed that Scott had crouched next to his now sitting form. But something felt off. He locked eyes with Scott, and when Scott reached to help him up Stiles growled at him and felt his vision flood with spots of red. He didn’t know why he growled, it was like instinct. His instinct was telling him that Scott shouldn’t be so close to him. Why would that be an instinctual reaction? Scott was his brother. Confused by Stiles’reaction Scott stepped back to give Stiles space, but when he looked into Stiles’ eyes again his facial expression turned to a shocked one.

“D dude… look in the mirror. How?” He stammered.

Stiles quickly scrambled to the mirror by his closet and he couldn’t believe the colour that his eyes had become.

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He locked eyes with Scott, and when Scott reached to help him up Stiles growled at him and felt his vision flood with spots of red. He didn’t know why he growled, it was like instinct. His instinct was telling him that Scott shouldn’t be so close to him. Why would that be an instinctual reaction? Scott was his brother. Confused by Stiles’ reaction Scott stepped back to give Stiles space, but when he looked into Stiles’ eyes again his facial expression turned to a shocked one.
“D dude… look in the mirror. How?” He stammered.
Stiles quickly scrambled to the mirror by his closet and he couldn’t believe the colour that his eyes had become.

His eyes shone up bright red. He was an Alpha. Fuck.


One week later


The Sherriff had contacted the school to notify them about Stiles’ absence. He had no control over his new abilities, and was in no position to be around so many people, sounds, and smells. The excuse they gave for his absence was that he caught mono, but who would he have gotten in contact with to even get it. It wasn’t as if he went to loads of parties to get laid with complete strangers who could’ve infected him. Anyone who would look closely into the excuse would notice it was a fake. But everyone he associated with at school was in the know, so no one would find out they had reasoned.

Scott spoke with Deaton, but as always he had nothing much to say that was useful. Except that Stiles should be kept away from others, because he wasn’t just a newly bitten werewolf, but an alpha. To control his strength and impulses would even be harder like this. To make it even worse, every time someone from Scott’s newly formed pack came close to him, his wolf felt threatened and would freak out. He so far had already tried to attack Scott, and Isaac as well. Luckily Scott was able to hold him down, but he still did some damage. To Isaac, Scott and the room. His room was worst right now. Nail indents in the wall from waking up from nightmares or outbursts of anger, and much more. He was afraid to leave his room, out of fear of destroying his family home where they had lived for so many years now.

He knew what the main problem was his inability to control himself. He had no anchor. His dad was the only person he could stand to be together with right now. They only thing that might’ve grounded him. But even that relationship he had been destroying since this werewolf shit had been going down. He had lied too much to his dad, and was paying the price now. His dad didn’t trust him anymore. Together with his uncontrollable anger outbursts, they had gotten into quite a lot of fights. So he couldn’t become his anchor.
After certain accusations were made his father won’t even look him in the eyes now.

How had everything gotten so messed up in just a few days?

Derek left with Cora, he is bringing her somewhere safe. No one knows where they went exactly.

Sleeping was difficult. There were too many things to get distracted by. Right now he hadn’t slept in about 38 hours. Which was probably not the best in his condition. It felt like his ADHD had been worse, and he couldn’t even take his Adderall with his accelerated healing. Everything distracted him. Literally everything, every sound ,and every smell he came across. The hearing was worse though. He could hear all his neighbours, and what they were up to too. But he could also hear the wind rustling through the trees constantly, which got quite annoying after a while.

He was still getting used to his new found strength too. He tried his hardest not to break everything. Some things were inevitable. Like him breaking his bookshelf when he got angry and threw a book at it. Or almost ripping the bannister off the wall when walking down the stairs. Things like that.
The only new sense Stiles liked was his enhanced sight. During the day the sun could get annoying, but he was starting to get used to it. At night, he could see everything. All the stars that were hidden to his sight, and the milky way, and the planets. Everything he could see, from the little fireflies dancing through the woods 100 yards away from his house, to the neighbours’ cat catching a mouse and bringing it home. It was amazing, he had never noticed that there was so much to see. Although this just gave him another reason not to sleep at night.

He was still constantly fidgety. It was hard to sit still, with so much energy bundled up in his body. Unfortunately he was on lockdown on Deaton’s orders and couldn’t even go for a run to get rid of the jitters. He was absolutely bored out of his mind, and alone all day basically. With nothing much to entertain himself but the TV and his computer. But after a few days even that got boring.

The pack, his friends, couldn’t visit. He was a threat now, close to becoming feral. He just couldn’t help himself. He didn’t have a pack of his own, all alone, and his wolf felt threatened by Scott’s alpha status. Or that he was told.

Eventually Stiles had resorted to pacing around his room for hours on end. Occasionally muttering something to himself. A week ago he would’ve been tired from all this pacing. But now he felt he could keep going endlessly.

He hadn’t looked at himself in the mirror since that first time he woke up. Maybe if he didn’t look at his reflection, it wouldn’t be real. He was very aware that this whole situation was real. He just didn’t want it to be, he never asked to be turned.

It felt like a nightmare, and he slowly felt like he was going completely mad.