A/N: Thank you guys so much for the votes and reads!!!!

You can probably guess what that picture is...

   Stiles vision blurs as he looks around. He can't see a thing. The only thing that seemed clear to him was the full moon overhead. In fact it was so clear that it was starting to swell  up in Stiles' face until it was the only thing he could see.

Panicking and dizzy Stiles uses his hands to guide him to the forest floor, still breathing heavy.

He closes his eyes as he feels them burn as if a blow torch is being placed on them at full blast. Stiles lets out a sharp and quick scream. It is cut off by his teeth being teared from his head in mid-air.

"Aghhhhh." Stiles moans watching as his teeth hit the forest floor and disintegrating into nothing but dust.

He places his hands on the ground and his vision plays tricks on him, making his hands shrink in. He shakes his head in all the overwhelming pain and hears his bones crack in his back.

'Nonononono. This can't be happening,' Stiles thinks through the pain, 'I'm human.'

His thinking is interrupted by another burst of pain shooting from his spinal cord to the end of his tail bone. His skin is shredded and a warmth rushes up along his rib cage and neck.

By the time he realizes his hoodie is getting too small his jaw pops out of it's socket and Stiles is sent into a spiraling circle of pitch black.

A few miles away Derek was sprinting as fast as he could trying to track Stiles' scent that was slowly disappearing due to the pouring rain.

Derek had gotten tired of yelling for Stiles since he clearly did not want to be found, otherwise he would have answered his phone, or yelled back.

"C'mon Stiles, you couldn't have just disappeared in thin air." States Derek scanning his surroundings for anything the sarcastic spazz could have left behind.

Then Derek's eyes stop their motion falling on a tree splattered in blood.

"Oh my god." Derek's eyes follow the tree to the stump and roots.

Curled up in what looked like Stiles' hoodie and jeans was a small, reddish orange fox.

Stepping closer Derek examines the fox closely until he sees a black mark behind the fox's ear.

"Stiles." Says Derek. That mark behind it's - no, Stiles' - ear was the Japanese symbol Deaton looked at.

Stiles obviously heard Derek's voice and stirred, whiskey brown eyes looking up at the large, broody were standing in front of him.

Stiles lets out a small yip and is surprised by it. He flinches and looks a himself.

'That was him' Stiles thought.

Derek smiles a bit at the tired fox and gently picks him up, cradling him in the red hoodie that was on the ground with him.

Stiles doesn't bother to fidget, his body was worn out completely and he was still recovering from all the pain he went through. He barely even wanted to think, that's how tired he was.

Derek looks down at the fox in his arms, 'That was Stiles.'  He thought.

Stiles nuzzles his sore nose into a crook in Derek's neck and closes his eyes, letting his tail wrap around his small body as he drifts off into a not so peaceful sleep.

---

Stiles is running through the forest at full speed. Faster than he has ever ran in his life.

Why was he running? He didn't know, but there was definitely something chasing him and it was approaching fast.

Was it a werewolf? Or some other supernatural creature?

No, neither, before Stiles can react his shoelace gets caught on the root of a tree, dragging him down with it.

He yelps expecting someone to help.

'Like Derek.' He thought.

The boy struggles until he hears an engine approach. It is then shut off and footsteps slowly make their way towards him.

Stiles attempts to get up and make a run for it but a foot is placed on Stiles' cheek bone, pushing his face back down onto the pine needles.

"Not so fast young one," The voice says.

Stiles freezes, that voice was familiar. Too familiar.

He looks up, eyes shining in fear.

The man standing over him was an older man. But he had no face.

Stiles yelps and tries to pull away.

"Oh no, don't run," He smiles evilly, "I don't want to hurt you, then you would be worth less money and they won't want you." The faceless man kicks Stiles' ribs.

Stiles whimpers in pain.

"However I will continue to hurt you until you decide to shift." The man pulls out a long baton and raises it up high before it comes plummeting down towards Stiles' face.

---

-1:00AM

Stiles lurches out of his sleep with a yelp and falls off the surface he was sleeping on. Which was, Derek?!?!

Derek bolts upright and looks at the small, wide eyed fox laying on the ground below him. "Hey hey hey. It's ok Stiles."

Stiles takes a shaky breath, standing up, and takes in his bearings. He was definitely in Derek's loft, the empty space swallowing up most of the room.

There was a bed in one corner, a kitchen and table in another, a couch where Derek was looking at him from, and a mirror underneath the giant panel of windows.

In the mirror was a small red fox. Stiles tilts his head, the fox does the same. Stiles opens his mouth, so does the fox.

Eventually Stiles is to the point where he is nose to nose with the fox. He lets out a small chitter meant to be a sentence.

Derek lets out a chuckle, "Yes Stiles, thats you." He says with a small grin.

Stiles tilts his head a bit and looks from the mirror where he apparently was to Derek, who was actually smiling.

Derek sits up, making couch room for Stiles.

Stiles happily accepts the invitation back on the couch and bounds ungracefully back to Derek.

Ignoring the fact that he could have had a whole cushion to himself Stiles lays himself down right next to the Sourwolf. He leans his head down on Derek's lap and  Derek's hand automatically gets busy on gently scratching between Stiles' ears.

Letting his tail wag at the slightest Stiles drifts off to sleep with Derek close behind.

---

Derek is the first to stir this time. Leaning his head back on the armrest he reads the clock 7:45AM.

'Not bad' the werewolf thought to himself.

He now shifts his attention to the lean, may I mention naked, boy peacefully asleep with his head in Derek's lap.

Not wanting to be mean but at the same time wanting Stiles to get on clothes he gently shakes him until he starts to move.

"5 more minutes Dad." Says Stiles in a monotone voice.

"Try a different name," says Derek shaking him again, "and before you guess put some fucking pants on."

At this Stiles bolts up, cheeks red with embarrassment.

"I washed your clothes, they are on the kitchen table."

Stiles gives a quick nod and stands up, ready to run to the table before Derek's voice stops him.

"What the actual hell?" Says Derek, looking at a red bushy tail protruding from Stiles' backside.

"What?" Asks Stiles with his back continuing to face Derek.

"You have a tail."

"A  WHAT?!" Stiles spins furiously around trying to catch it but has no luck.

Derek laughs but shields his eyes from the scene, "Pants! Please!" He yells, his gruff voice returning.

"Ok ok ok!" Stiles yells back.

He runs into the kitchen and slips his jeans on leaving his tail, which he apparently has now, hanging out. Once he clips his belt in place his eyes fall down to his stomach which were home to some newly impressive abs.

"Nice." He mutters, pulling on his plain white shirt and red hoodie on.

When that is complete his eyes fall to the tail wrapped around his waist. Not really knowing what to do with it he let it hang freely behind him. He then walks back to the couch where Derek was sitting  on his phone. Stiles quickly re-directs him.

"Derek. Don't tell the pack." Stiles basically blurts.

Derek slowly nods in realization and puts his phone away.

"What do you want me to do then?" Asks Derek with his normal frown plastered to his face.

"Deatons, we have to go back to Deatons."

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A/N: Hi guys! Don't forget to vote and comment, I love feedback!🖤guess what?! I'll start updating every Monday when it's possible! If I can't I'll let you guys know👍🏻