It was quiet in the newly remodeled Hale house, the remodel done at Stiles' urging, of course. Stiles was not there, though. The rest of the pack was. Allison was curled up in Scott's lap; Lydia was sitting between Boyd and Erica; Jackson was standing while leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest; Danny and Issac were talking softly to one another to help ease the silence in the room. Derek was in the kitchen, staring at the top of the counter. Stiles wasn't there. Something was very wrong. He could feel it. He knew what Stiles was going through, and respected that the nineteen year old asked for space. It'd been a few days, though. Not even Scott had heard from Stiles. Derek glanced over at his cell phone that was charging on the other end of the counter before grabbing it and going outside. He walked until he knew he was a safe enough distance from the house to not be overheard.

Derek absently wet his lips as the phone line rang, and his chest tightened as the moments passed without anyone picking up the phone. "Stiles, answer the phone," he mumbled to himself, closing his eyes for a moment. "Please, pick up the phone."

He grew more worried when the answering machine picked up and he tried Stiles' cell phone, only to receive no answer there, either. That worry quickly turned into more of a fear as Stiles did not answer that either. Derek shoved his phone into his jacket pocket, glancing over to his right to find Scott there. Scott nodded slightly, silently telling him to go over to Stiles' place.

And that was what he did.

Derek sped the entire way across town, an odd pang in his heart when he spotted the Sheriff's cruiser sitting there outside the Stilinski house. He left the car running as he got out, not taking the time to turn it off before going inside. It was quiet, too quiet. Mail piled up on the floor of the hall beneath the mail slot. The television was not on. The heat was not on either. "Stiles?" he called, taking a deep breath. The air smelt stale, as if no one had been there for days. A low growl sounded in the back of Derek's throat and he rushed upstairs. Stiles was not there, but the window was open. The young man's gaze settled on the woods behind the house. Surely Stiles did not go out there alone.

The alpha did not waste time in going to look. The newer scent trail into the woods quickly told him that Stiles had been stupid enough to go out there alone. When he found the teen, Stiles was sitting near the edge of one of the bluffs overlooking the river. His lips were purple and his face was whiter than normal. There were dark circles under his eyes and Derek could easily tell that Stiles had been crying. "Stiles," he said softly, startling the other young man, though Stiles did not jump.

"My dad, Derek," mumbled Stiles with a shake of his head and a bitter laugh.

"I know."

"It's my fault."

"It's not."

Stiles shook his head but did not reply otherwise. "I don't have anyone, anymore," Stiles said softly with another shake of his head.

Derek frowned faintly as he closed the distance between the two of them. He sat down next to Stiles, pulling the brunet against his side, arm staying around the pale teen's waist. Stiles stiffened slightly as Derek pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, closing his eyes for a moment as he remembered some of the good moments before the fight that took the life of Sheriff Stilinski. "You have me," the alpha said against Stiles' skin.

"Stiles, you're being ridiculous," Derek had said. "You're not going. It's..."

"Too dangerous," interrupted Stiles with a frown. "It's no more dangerous for me than for Allison. Well, okay, so she kicks ass and takes names, but c'mon! I can help. You know I can."

Derek growled a little, his eyes flashing as he pinned Stiles against the wall for the first time in a while. "This is not about whether or not you can help, Stiles," Derek said lowly. "You're safer here. I need you to be safe."

Stiles' brow furrowed a little as he thought over the alpha's words. Needed him to be safe? Why? Apparently, Stiles asked the question aloud, because Derek just laughed softly, tightening his grip on Stiles' shoulder without hurting him. Stiles thought over everything that had happened over the previous few years; all the times Derek saved him or got in the way of someone hurting him, all the small little things that (to someone that might have been more observant) would have pointed out that Derek had feelings for Stiles, feelings.

"Stiles?" Derek said softly, not otherwise reacting as the teen all but crawled onto his lap to hug the man as tightly as possible, as if Derek was the only thing he had left to anchor him; and, he was.

Scott had Allison, his parents were dead, none of the others in the pack were really all that close to Stiles. No, Derek was really the only one he had. "I don't know if I can do this," Stiles mumbled against Derek's shoulder.

Derek's brow furrowed a little as he held Stiles close to him, wishing he knew the right words to say to make it easier. He knew he could not just make things better. Stiles had just lost his father. He could be there for the annoying bundle of energy that he cared for more than he could express. "It scared me when I couldn't get you on the phone," Derek admitted after a few moments. "I know how you're feeling. 'Ve been there before. It... it gets better. You're not alone."

The two of them sat there all night, just holding on to one another. Stiles cried, and Derek held him. Stiles wanted to run, but Derek wouldn't let him. Stiles felt guilty, and Derek tried to erase those thoughts. Stiles felt broken, and Derek tried to put him back together.

Stiles listened to him, but it still hurt. He still felt guilty. He still felt so much hurt as he closed his eyes and listened to the steady sound of Derek's heart where his head lay on the other man's chest. He did not know if he really could get through it; it was too hard. It hurt too much. He did not want to keep dealing with it. He did not want to leave Derek, either.

When Stiles opened his eyes again, he noticed the rest of the pack standing there, slowly walking toward him and Derek. Maybe, just maybe, he was not as alone as he had thought. Maybe he could get through this.


Okay, so this isn't the greatest. I wrote it in about thirty minutes while listening to "Lullaby" by Nickelback. I dunno what I really think. It's just a one off.