In too Deep ((Sterek #1))

Chapter One: The Suspicion

*Stiles

Stiles sighed as he paced around his, his phone clutched in his hand. He's overheard, okay eavesdropped, into several of his dad's phone calls, and he knows somethings going on. Not just a serial killer or accidents, he knows it's supernatural, it had to be. Nothing else could explain the wounds. He's just debating whether or not he should call Scott, his best friend, and someone who left town to stay out of this stuff. "Damn it," he muttered and flopped down onto his bed. Just as he was about to say fuck it and call Scott, another name popped into his head, Derek. "No.... no way," he muttered, not wanting to drag Derek into this either, plus they never really got along all that well. He looked down at his phone a moment before sighing and standing up. "Damn it," he muttered again before grabbing the keys to his jeep.

Stiles drove to Derek's new place since the one he had been staying in had been torn down. He parked on the side of the street and looked up at the place, again trying to decide whether or not he was going to go up. He tapped on his steering wheel, seriously thinking about turning around and just calling Scott. Then he again remembered his friend saying that he needed to get away from all this craziness. After what happened to Allison, he needed time away from the supernatural... and Stiles. Stiles always kind of thought Scott blamed him for what happened to her since he was the one possessed by the nogitsune when it happened. So with a disgruntled sigh and a bit of grumbling, he killed the engine of his jeep and climbed out.

Stiles went into the building and up the stairs to Derek's place. He stood out there for several moments before hesitantly knocking. No turning back now. He just hoped Derek wouldn't think he was crazy. He wasn't crazy. He knew there had to be something going on. And if Derek didn't care or didn't believe him, he'd just have to call Scott. Or Peter..... no definitely would have to call Scott.

Derek grumbled when he heard a knock at his door, knowing it was Stiles before he even opened it. He heard his piece of crap jeep before he even turned onto the street. He didn't dislike the teenager. He just knew him being here meant trouble. "What do you want, Stiles?" he asked as he opened the door, mentally preparing himself for what the younger male had to say. He'd been looking forward to having all the teenagers out of his hair once they went off to college. With them gone, he thought that maybe things would go quiet and he could relax for once.

Stiles smiled small, "Hey Derek," he said, and kind of slid slash pushed his way into his place as if Derek had opened the door politely. Though if he were being honest, Derek would have been able to stop him if he wanted to. "I need your help," he said and looked around the studio apartment before turning around and looking at Derek again. "It's happening again," he said and sighed softly. "Weird stuff is going on, and, well, you're the only person around who can help," He said and flashed a cheeky smile. Then, before Derek could interrupt or tell him to leave, he started with his explanation. "People have been going missing and have been popping up dead all over the place, their throats ripped out....... and we both know werewolves like doing that," he said, mumbling the last part as he remembered when Derek not so kindly asked him to start his Jeep back up. "But it's not just that, they have this weird symbol carved into their backs, kind of looks like the tattoo on your's," he said and pulled out the pictures he had in his bag. He held them out to Derek, not even sure the werewolf was listening to him anymore or if he believed or cared about what he was saying.

Derek gritted his teeth slightly as Stiles spoke, though, to be honest, it was hard not to crack a smile when Stiles mumbled under his breath about the time he threatened to rip his throat out. He sighed and looked over the boy standing in front of him. He could smell the determination leaking off of him and saw it all over his face as well. He knew from experience that he wasn't going to leave without a fight, and since he didn't feel like hurting him yet, he took the pictures and looked them over slowly. "Got any suspects?" he asked, knowing the know-it-all probably did.