Stiles wrung his hands together, not making eye contact with anyone. He, Scott, Kira, Isaac, Malia, and Theo were sitting in the hospital, waiting for Lydia. Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles glared at Theo. He didn't know why he was here of all people. Sure, he did save Lydia's life and everything, but he wasn't even part of the pack. Not even Jackson was here, but Theo was.

Stiles officially hated Theo.

As time ticked on where Stiles' fingers beat against his thighs like a drum and his heart raced at the speed of light. The minutes were slowly passing by. Five minutes. Ten. Stiles' head was in his hands by the time it has been almost fifteen minutes. But he soon snapped his head up when Melissa came down the hall, straight towards Stiles.

"How is she?" Stiles asked, ignoring the rest of the pack.

"It could be worse," Melissa said. "But she'll get better. I promise."

It felt like a weight had been lifted off of Stiles' chest. She was going to be okay. He honestly never doubted it, Lydia was the strongest girls he knew. That's one of the reasons why he loved her.

As Stiles looked around at his friends, he saw Theo peering at him curiously. A look half sympathetic-half cunning etched onto his face. The look in his eyes told him everything that he needed to know.

Theo knew how Stiles felt about Lydia.

He narrowed his eyes at Theo. He didn't trust him at all - every time he looked into Theo's green eyes, his hate for him grew and grew. Stiles couldn't put a finger on it, there was something off about him.

Shouldn't be complaining, Stiles thought to himself. I guess there's something off about me too.

~

The next day, Stiles walked down the halls of the school, his instincts sharper than usual, his vision more in focus, having the ability to hear things that no human should be able to hear. His long fingers grasped the sleeves of his backpack, not able to figure out what was going on with him. He had almost werewolf like abilities, but his eyes stayed caramel brown on the night of the full moon, and no claws were protruding from his skin.

"Hey," Malia said, walking up him. "Have you visited Lydia yet? We need her help to find out more about... whatever the hell is going on."

Stiles, snapping back to reality, shook his head. "They're only letting family in," he said, his mind drifting off to Lydia for a moment. "Have you found anything?"

"Nope," Malia said, opening to a random page in the large, old book in her hand. "All I know is what I saw and what Deaton told us."

Stiles shook his head. "Kanima werewolf hybrids and three men in suits... just when I thought things were getting good."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Malia's lips. "Agreed."

~

Stiles was alone that night in the library, lazily sleeping across his books, right where his friends left him an hour or two before. But, the loud slam of a door slamming woke him up, his brown eyes opening groggily as he lifted his face from the ancient book, a drawing of a wendigo staring straight at him.

Stiles glanced at his phone. 10:00.

"Damn," he whispered to himself. He had been searching through all these books for hours - and he still hadn't found anything. This was a complete and utter trainwreck.

Shoving a few of the books in his backpack, Stiles glanced around the empty library. Not a single soul was there, he noticed, as he stood above the whole scene, not a single light in the building. Something sparked in Stiles' mind.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles hoped this would work. He hoped that this all wasn't a hallucination.

Stiles held out his hand as he stood over the railing, his senses tingling, able to hear a small animal rustling in the bushes outside of the school. This is so fucking weird, he thinks to himself, sucking in another deep breath.

Then, concentrating as hard as he could, he flicked down his wrist. When Stiles opened his eyes, there was nothing there.

"Okay," he murmured to himself. "Let's try this again."

He tried it again. Three times. Four times. When Stiles angrily flicked his wrist down on the fifth time, he felt something unusual course through his veins. His eyes snapping open, he saw what he wanted, but what terrified him at the exact same time.

A spiderweb was connected to his fingertip, shooting across the library, connected to the wall on the other side. A laugh bubbled up inside of Stiles' chest. "Holy shit," he whispered, now audibly chuckling, his laughter bouncing off the walls.

Another (terrible) idea popped into Stiles' head. He slung his legs over the railing, his heart beating at the speed of sound. I better not die tonight, Stiles thought, after harshly tugging on the web, making sure that it wouldn't snap. It was unusually strong.

Then, just as he realized what an incredibly stupid idea it was, he jumped.

His stomach jumped into his throat as he swung, his body flying towards the wall. Fuck. Fuck.

Stiles did the first thing that popped into his head. He flicked down his other wrist, sending a web towards the other wall. The original web snapped as he was inches away from the wall. Stiles heard himself scream as he was flung towards the other wall, afraid that he was about to breathe his last breath.

Without thinking, he shot down another web, the other one immediately snapping. What the hell was I thinking?! Stiles thought as he was flung towards the other wall, now much closer to the ground than before.

So, instead of letting another web shoot from his wrist, his pushed his feet out in front of him, slamming them into the wall. Stiles jumped down with a thump, landing on his feet, not off balance for even a second. Running a hand through his hair, Stiles laughed.

That was fucking awesome.

But, what was he? Stiles didn't have a clue. Werespider? Is that even a thing?

Stiles didn't want to know, but was desperate all at once.

So, instead of divulging into another ancient book full of myths and legends, he grabbed his backpack (which had been dragged down with him) and headed out to his Jeep, the stars shining bright against the pitch black sky.

As Stiles threw his backpack onto the seat next to him, he turned the key, but nothin g happened. Damn it, he thought, grabbing his toolbox from the back seat (and by toolbox he meant a roll of duck tape and a couple of wrenches) and hopping out of the car.

As he flipped the hood up, something felt... off. Like there was someone lurking in shadows, watching his every move. Not knowing what else to do, Stiles ignored it, thinking he was being stupid.

But, he felt sharp claws dig into his shoulder, he realized he was not being dumb, and he let out a long, deep scream.