Work Header

The Hale Pack

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or any of it's characters. If I did, Sterek would be canon.

The Hale Pack: The Beginning

On the rural outskirts of a small California town called Beacon Hills, Police Officers and State Troopers gather on a dirt road. At their sides, search dogs bark and whine, pulling their leashes taut.

One by one, the Officers click on flashlights and then glance to the Sheriff for his signal. Finally, he gives a nod. Seconds later, a dozen streaks of light tear through the shadowy woods.

A desperate search has begun...

Not far from those dense woods, a two-story home lies hidden under a canopy of trees. A gentle wind drifts into the open window of an upstairs bedroom where two hands thread the laces on the head of a lacrosse stick.

The work is fast and precise, fingers pulling each lace into a diamond mesh pattern. Knotting the last loop, sixteen year old Scott McCall stands with the re-threaded stick. Dressed in only a pair of athletic shorts, his lithe frame may still have some filling out to do but it's easy to see that he'll soon grow into a strikingly handsome young man with deep black eyes designed to melt the hearts of hopeful young girls.

Scooping a ball up from his bedroom floor, he gives the lacrosse stick a spin, testing his handiwork.

A moment later, the re-threaded stick lands next to a school backpack while Scott pumps out a few chin-ups at the bar mounted in the doorway of his closet.

Then, toothbrush in his mouth, he reaches for the window sill to pull it down. But he stops when he hears a sound. He cocks his ear to listen again. Under the whispering wind, he hears movement. A strange shuffling noise.

Less than a minute later, the door to the porch is opened. Now armed with a baseball bat, Scott starts for the yard. Breath held tight, he moves cautiously off the porch steps.

The sound of movement stops him cold. Holding still, he peers left and right as he white-knuckles the bat, ready to swing. When he reaches the railing, before Scott even knows what's happening, a figure swings down and comes hurtling toward him. Scott hollers in terror as an upside down face appears in front of him, the person screaming back at him. He almost swings the bat before realizing who it is.

"Stiles, what the hell are you doing?" Scott asks his best friend angrily whilst gasping deep breaths.

"You weren't answering your phone." Stiles answers indignantly gesturing with his arms wildly. Feet caught in the trellis, Stiles hangs in front of Scott. The sixteen year-old with boundless energy continues talking upside down as if this were a perfectly normal way to have a conversation. "Why do you have a bat?"

Scott glances at the bat in his hand then back at his best friend, "I thought you were a predator."

"A pre-" Stiles cuts himself off with a shake of his head and slight scoff "Look I know it's late, but you gotta' hear this. I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago. Dispatch called. They're bringing in every officer from the Beacon department and even State Police."

"For what?" Scott asks his best friend, lowering the bat.

"Two joggers found a body in the woods." His voice carries a trace of excitement, there's a slight grin on his face as he reaches up and pulls himself free of the trellis, proceeding to land on his feet in front of Scott.

"A dead body?" Scott asks with a slightly confused look on his face, leaning over the railing to look down at his friend.

Stiles stands full, leaning closer to the railing "No, a body of water. Yes, dumbass, a dead body." He announces with his trademark sarcasm. The pale boy climbs up, over the railing onto the porch, in front of Scott.

"You mean like murdered?" Scott inquires.

Stiles stands with his hands on his hips. "Nobody knows yet. Just that it was a girl," He makes a gesture with his left hand. "probably in her twenties." he repeats the gesture with his right hand.

"Hold on. If they found a body, what are they looking for now?" A seemingly ever-present confused look was glued to his face

"That's the best part." Stiles announced, gesturing wildly, barely able to contain his excitement "They only found half."

A little later on, a beat-up jeep skids to a halt just beyond the heavily wooded entrance to the Beacon Hills Preserve. Stiles gets out with a flashlight in hand. Scott following him.

"Are we seriously doing this?" Scott asks Stiles incredulously.

Placing a hand on his friends shoulder, Stiles replies, "You're the one always bitchin' that nothing ever happens in this town." Before charging on to the hiking path.

Standing in place with a slight shrug, Scott informs the hyperactive boy,"I was trying to get a good night's sleep for practice tomorrow." Scott then proceeds to follow Stiles.

"Right, because sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort." Is the sarcastic response.

"No, because I'm playing this year." Scott insists, "In fact, I'm making first line."

Stiles put a sarky cheer in his voice to respond "That's the spirit. Everyone should have a dream. even a pathetically unrealistic one."

"Just out of curiosity, which half of the body are we looking for?" Scott asks, deciding to ignore Stiles' previous comment.

"Huh. I didn't even think about that."

"And what if whoever killed the girl is still out here?" Scott asks with little conviction

"Also something I didn't think about." Is the response.

"Comforting to know you've planned this out with your usual attention to detail." Scott gasps out between breaths, whilst climbing a dirt hill. Scott's breath begins to shorten. "Maybe the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight."

Scott leans against a tree taking his inhaler out of his hoodie pocket, shaking it several times before following Stiles up the rest of the hill.

Stiles drops to the ground quickly when he reaches the top of said hill. Scott following suit seconds later, when he notices it too. Several law enforcement officers with flashlights and dogs scouring the woods.

Scott takes a hit from his inhaler when Stiles tries to get up and run forward. Scott just manages to pull him back down.

"Dude!" he whispers forcing his inhaler back into his pocket. "If we go that way we'll run right into the search party, lead by the sheriff. Also known as your dad! We're better off heading back."

Stiles goes to protest when he hears his dads voice call out to a deputy. He nods before whispering, "Fine, but you owe me big time!" Stiles hauls himself up to his feet, then helps Scott up.

"For what? Savin' your ass?" Scott asks jokingly, playfully punching the lanky boy's shoulder.

Starting back, the friends try to find their way out of the woods, when the flashlight starts to flicker, before going out completely.

"Shit," Stiles states squinting at the object in his hands, willing it to work.

"Do you have any spare batteries?" Scott asks looking at his friend hopefully, who looked back at him like he was insane.

"Oh, yeah! I keep them in my pocket with my wilderness survival kit!" Stiles snarks, flailing his arms around. "Let's just try to retrace our steps." So the best friends take off, but with each step it becomes increasingly difficult to see in the pitch black darkness.

Stiles stops suddenly holding his arm out, forcing Scott to stop too. "Did you hear that?" There was a rustling among the trees. The pair stand still and share a nervous glance. Scott's breath tightens more from fear, than asthma and he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his inhaler again.

Before he can do anything, there's an odd rumbling sound. The sound of sudden and furious movement increasing in volume and velocity until a dozen deer come charging out of the darkness. The shock sends both boys tumbling to the ground and Scott's inhaler was sent flying. The deer soar past them with the thunderous beat of hooves trampling the ground.

Then, once again it was just the two best friends, alone in the dark forest. Scott stands before crouching down, eyes scanning the leaf-covered ground in search of his inhaler. Pulling out his cell phone, he lights the display and guides the phone's light over the ground.

"What are you doing?" Stiles asks, staring at Scott like he's grown a second head.

"Looking for my inhaler." He snaps, "I dropped it."

Without another word, Stiles joins Scott in his search. The pair don't find Scott's inhaler but do manage to briefly illuminate a face. A pale, dead face, with glossed over, unseeing eyes peering up at Scott. The head was connected to half a body.

Crying out in shock, Scott lurches up, tripping on his own feet and tumbling over Stiles, pulling the paler boy with him. Suddenly, they're propelled down a leaf-covered slope, rolling head over heels, hitting each other several times before landing in a heap on top of a pile of leaves. Groaning, Stiles and Scott stand, wordlessly deciding to leave the inhaler for the night and get out of the woods.

Suddenly, a low growl stops them from moving. Stiles holds his breath, knowing Scott is doing the same. Something crouches in the shadows right near him. Something very large. Scott slowly begins to turn around when something hurtles towards them. It pins Scott first, and there's a flash of red eyes and razor sharp teeth before Scott twists forward, crying out.

"Scott!" Stiles leaps forward without thinking, determined to help his friend, which only draws the... thing to him. He stumbles backwards, landing on the ground with a thump. He holds his arm in front of his face in a feeble attempt at self defense as the red eyed creature lunges at him. The creature digs it horribly sharp teeth into Stiles' thin arm so deep that Stiles thinks it has bitten all the way through.

The creature runs away after that. Scott helps pull Stiles up by his uninjured arm and they rush to get out of the woods.

Crashing out of the woods and onto the road, Scott and Stiles whirl around simultaneously to face an oncoming car. The driver swerves, almost clipping Scott. Horn blaring, the car hurtles past.

Breathless, Scott backs away from the woods, pulling Stiles with him. With the world spinning around him, Scott pulls up his now torn hoodie, over a deep and vicious looking bite.

"Fuck, dude" Stiles gasps, looking at Scott's injury with deep concern in his whiskey eyes. "That looks really bad."

"Speak for yourself." Scott breathes out with a wince, staring at Stiles right arm. Blood was flowing over his jacket sleeve and dripping to the ground.

Before Stiles can reply, the pair freeze at the strangest sound. The howling of a wolf.