A/N. I've never written any Teen Wolf fan fiction before but I'm bored and there's a first time for everything, right?

Isaac is home alone when it happens.

Reclining on the sofa in the family room and flicking through the channels, he's just starting to doze off when a frantic pounding at the door startles him into full awareness. He jolts upward, nearly falling to the floor. "What the hell?" he murmurs, taking a deep breath to steady his rapidly beating heart.

The pounding continues and eventually he picks up on a very annoyingly familiar voice, calling for Scott. Isaac rolls his eyes and stumbles to his feet. He wanders over to the door, in no rush to deal with Stiles Stilinski.

Scott is easily the best person Isaac knows, but unfortunately he's a packaged deal with his best friend. Stiles is not the worst person Isaac has ever known, but he has yet to understand why the two get along so well. Scott has a strong but quieting presence. He's kind and thinks before he speaks and considers everyone around him. Stiles is the complete opposite. He has a loud and obnoxious personality and is constantly demanding everyone's attention. Sometimes just hearing his name exasperates Isaac. Then again, Isaac and Stiles probably annoy Scott more than they annoy each other so the least Isaac can do now is make an attempt to be friendly.

He swings open the door, the greeting on his lips dying when he actually sees Stiles. He's seen a lot of Stiles. He's seen him angry, he's seen him excited, he's seen him happy, he's seen him off his medication, and he's even seen him afraid. But this is different. Terror and fear, Isaac has learned throughout his abusive childhood, are two different emotions. Fear is what you feel when something might happen. Terror means it already has. And right now, Stiles is terrified.

"Stiles-"

"Where's Scott?" Stiles demands, white faced and panting. He's probably run all the way here from his house. Staring with huge eyes around the otherwise empty house, he pushes unseeingly past Isaac and starts to call for his friend. "Scott!" There's a note of desperation in his voice that Isaac has never heard before. "Scott!"

Isaac reaches out and grabs Stiles arm. "Stiles," he says quietly, but with enough command to get the other teen's attention. "Scott isn't here."

Stiles stares at him as if he's speaking in another language. "What-" he starts, still breathless. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean he's not here," Isaac repeats, trying not to sound irritated. "He's on a date with Kira." He narrows his eyes and stares closely at Stiles, a gnawing worry settling in the pit of his stomach. His sharp hearing catches the sound of Stiles' heartbeat, far too loud and fast to be very safe. "Is er, everything okay?

"He's not here," Stiles says faintly. He shakes loose of Isaac's grasp and stumbles back a few steps, both hands going up to his head. Isaac watches as his fingers dig into his hair and twist, like he's trying to stop a barrage of thoughts from attacking. "Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god-"

"Stiles!" Isaac's hand hangs suspended in air, afraid to touch Stiles and make things worse. "Stiles, what's wrong? Do you want me to call Scott? I can… I can even go get him if- hey, Stiles!"

Without warning, Stiles collapses to the wooden floor, a hand moving from his head to his heaving chest. His breathing, ragged already from his mad dash, quickens even more. He's totally unaware of Isaac's presence, unaware of everything except the fact that Scott isn't there.

A panic attack. Isaac remembers Scott telling him that Stiles used to get them after his mom died. "But I've never seen it happen to him," Scott added, relief in his voice. Isaac didn't blame him. Who wants to see their best friend have a panic attack? Stiles is far from his best friend and Isaac can hardly stand to watch right now.

Isaac has had panic attacks because of his dad. It's almost like seeing himself in a mirror. Stiles' face is a ghastly shade of white and his eyes are dazed and unfocused, staring off in the distance like he's watching something that isn't actually happening. But it is happening. In his mind. And Stiles is trapped in his mind right now.

"Stiles…" Isaac doesn't know what to do. He's never had someone help him through a panic attack so he's at a complete loss as Stiles continues to chant incoherently in between gasps for air. He thinks about running back into the family room for his phone so he can call Scott, and even starts to rise from his knees.

Stiles suddenly reaches out and wraps his fingers tightly around Isaac's wrist. Isaac's first instinct is to pull away and move into a defensive stance because his dad used to grab him like that, but he only flinches before recovering himself. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before opening them again. This isn't his dad. This is Stiles. And Stiles… needs him. Rather he needs Scott, but Scott isn't here right now. Isaac is all he has right now. And that is as good as it's gonna get.

"Hey, Stiles?" Isaac asks. "Can you hear me, man?"

Stiles shakes his head, but not in answer to Isaac. "No," he chokes on a sob. "No, please. I need… I need Scott."

A lump tightens Isaac's throat. Stiles is in another place, so exposed and vulnerable to whatever is threatening him and pulling him down 's drowning right in front of Isaac. He doesn't deserve this. "Stiles," he says, trying to sound gentle and soothing. "Scott isn't here. But I am. It's going to be okay. Just… Just talk to me, please."

He's afraid for Stiles, he realizes after the boy's agonized breathing reaches a new, frightening level of practically not existing. His fingers twist tightly in his cotton t-shirt, clawing madly at his chest. The other digs so hard into Isaac's arm that he winces in pain.

"Stiles," he says again, covering Stiles' hand with his own. He's glad Stiles doesn't pull away this time, but the relief doesn't last long because he's not even sure if his presence is being noticed. "Stiles, you need to calm down so I can help you. You need to breathe. I'm scared you might pass out."

"I- I can't," Finally Stiles responds but Isaac is far from comforted. "I can't- breathe… h-hurts." Tears are pooling in his brown eyes and spilling down his cheeks. "It hurts," he whimpers again.

Isaac nods. "I know," he says softly. "I know it hurts. But it'll get better if you breathe. Breathe, Stiles."

Stiles' grip on his arm loosens and Isaac is alarmed because he knows it's because the panic attack is weakening him. Not breathing is weakening him. "Stiles!"

"Isaac," Stiles looks up at him, eyes tortured. "Help me."

"Okay," Isaac nods again so he's sure Stiles can see him. "Okay, I'll help you, Stiles. That's what I'm here for. Talk to me. What's going on?"

"My… My dad." Stiles tries to explain, and Isaac realizes a little to late that getting him to breathe should have been the first step. Stiles can hardly drag in enough air to get out the garbled mess of words.

"Your dad," Isaac repeats, still hoping he can help this way. Maybe once he knows what's wrong, he can say the right things and get Stiles breathing. "Is your dad okay, Stiles? Where is he?" He likes Sheriff Stilinski and he knows how close the father and son are with one another. Maybe that's another reason he's always disliked Stiles. It's hard to like someone when they have such a perfect relationship with the same kind of of person who abused you for your whole life. Still.

"He's dead," Stiles chokes out, his sobbing increasing. "I-I killed him, Isaac!"

Alarm bells go off in Isaac's head. "Stiles," he says quietly. "Are you sure you weren't just dreaming?" He's praying that he's right. He knows that since the night with the Nemeton and the sacrifices, Stiles, Scott and Allison have been struggling with the darkness that has wrapped itself around their hearts. Stiles has had trouble distinguishing reality and nightmare, which frankly sounds completely terrifying to Isaac.

Stiles shakes his head so violently that he falls forward and Isaac catches him. "N-no," he wheezes. "No, I did it. I-I saw. I stabbed him. The blood. The blood was… everywhere." He holds out his hands for Isaac to see. They're rubbed red and raw but there's no blood. "Look."

"Stiles," Gripping his shoulders, Isaac stares first at his hands and then at him. "There isn't any blood on your hands. Look." He gently takes one of Stiles' hands in his own and and runs his fingers lightly across the palm. "No blood." The only thing he can guess is that Stiles has been trying to rub the imaginary blood off his hands, hurting himself in the process. "There's no blood," Isaac repeats slowly. "Look."

Stiles resists at first but then glances down at his hands. He blinks hard, lips moving silently as he counts to himself. His eyes dart over to Isaac's hands and do the same thing. "Ten," Isaac hears him say. "Ten."

It's the most he's been with Isaac this whole time. Isaac has no idea what he's talking about but he's not crying anymore and he's looking at him now. Seizing the opportunity, Isaac squeezes his hand gently. "Stiles, can you breathe with me?"

He's still too unfocused. "Breathe?" he repeats like he's never heard the word before.

"Yeah." He doesn't sound like he's going to pass out anymore, but it's still too little and Isaac can still hear his heart. "In and out, Stiles. With me, okay?"

Finally Stiles nods and Isaac breathes a sigh of relief. "Good. Now just do what I do. In and out. In and out. In and out."

He can see Stiles' body relax as his breathing eases out into a more regular rhythm. Squeezing his shoulder, Isaac continues to coach him until he hears his heartbeat return to a safer, steadier beat. "There," he whispers. "That's it."

Stiles reaches up and wipes at his tearstained face. "Oh god," he says so quietly that Isaac can hardly hear him. "Isaac-"

"Don't talk yet," Isaac urges gently. "Just wait. Here. Give me your phone."

Stiles' hand is shaking so badly that all he can do is wordlessly hold his phone out to Isaac. Isaac complies and takes the phone, keeping one arm around Stiles' shoulders as he scrolls through the list of contacts. "Okay, listen. I'm gonna call your dad all right?" He notices that he's shaking too, just a little, when it takes him three times to successfully call the sheriff. "Your dad is fine, Stiles." he says quietly, trying to reassure them both. If Mr. Stilinki doesn't pick up then he's definitely calling Scott next because he knows there's nothing he can do for Stiles then.

Midway though the second ring, the sheriff answers. "Hello?" he says, sounding very distracted but very much alive. "What is it, son?"

There's so much love in his voice that it physically pains Isaac to hear. His dad never sounded like that. But no. This isn't about him.

Stiles clears his throat. "Hey, dad." He says, sounding so normal and casual that it catches Isaac off guard. "Sorry about that. I sat on my phone. Booty call." He chuckles and sounds convincing but Isaac can feel the nervous tension in his shoulders.

"Stiles," his dad groans at the awful joke. "Listen, I'm working and I-"

"No big deal, sorry again, bye." Stiles spits out the words one after another and then snatches the phone from Isaac and ends the call. He drops the phone and then sighs heavily, slumping not away but towards Isaac.

"Stiles-"

"Can we please not talk about it?" Stiles asks wearily. "Not now anyway. Please? I just… I don't want to talk about it."

"It's okay, Stiles," Isaac dismisses his nervous ramble. "I understand." And he does. "Do you want to be alone?"

He fully expects Stiles to say yes. Isaac is certain that the only one who could see Stiles go through a full blown meltdown without Stiles suffering complete humiliation, is Scott. And even then, Isaac can practically see him pushing Scott away. Because for all Stiles' faults, there is one thing that he's not, and that thing is selfish. Everything he does, he does for his friends. He's loud and tactless being he's trying to get through to them, to help or defend them. It's never about him.

But to his surprise, Stiles shakes his head. He looks up at him, no longer crying, but his eyes still red and watery, full of something Isaac has never seen in him before: Need. He opens his mouth and speaks. His voice is hoarse, dry and cracked from the panic attack but Isaac is listening and hears the whisper clearly. "Stay."

SCENE CHANGE.

Scott walks in on a strange sight. Stiles is curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over his shoulders and tucked under his chin with the utmost care. But that isn't the strange part.

His head is in Isaac's lap. Isaac is watching a muted television, one hand resting on top of Stiles' head, fingers combing absentmindedly through his hair. He looks up when Scott comes in and quickly places a finger over his lips.

Scott closes his mouth, too stunned to know what to say. He watches as Isaac lifts Stiles' head and moves very carefully and slowly off the couch. He stands up, readjusting the blanket over Stiles' shoulders and then motions for Scott to follow him into the kitchen.

"What-"

"He had a panic attack, Scott." Isaac says, watching Scott's eyes immediately fill with concern. "He's okay now, but… it was pretty bad."

"I…" Scott seems to be at a loss for words. "When? About?"

"A few hours ago." Isaac leans against the doorway, so he can still see into the family room. "He came rushing over here, convinced that he had killed his father and he had blood all over his hands. He was hardly breathing, Scott."

Scott looks like he's hardly breathing now. He pales visibly. "He couldn't wake up again?" he whispers. "Right? It was a dream but he couldn't tell when he was really awake?"

Isaac confirms this with a nod, unsure of what else to say. Scott is so empathic, especially when it comes to those closest to him. "He's okay now," he says, watching Scott ball his hands into fists. "I mean-"

"I should have been here," Scott says in an agonized voice. "I'm his best friend, I should have been here when he needed me."

"Scott-"

"No, Isaac. I should have. I know he's been having these terrible dreams and that he can't wake up. I know that he can't tell what's real and what isn't. I know that it's triggering panic attacks."

That gets Isaac's attention. "Wait attacks as in plural?" he interrupts. "As in more than one? This isn't the first time?"

Scott shakes his head. "No," he moans. "He had one at school a week or so ago. We had to count my fingers so that he could tell he wasn't dreaming. He said you have extra fingers in dreams."

So that's what that was all about. "Scott," Isaac begins. "He's okay now. We got through it."

Scott almost smiles. "I know," he whispers. "I know. Thank you, Isaac. But. I still feel like I shouldn't have left him alone. What if one day he can't get to any of us-"

"That's not going to happen," Isaac vows. "I promise, Scott. Stiles needs to be taken care of this time. And after all he's done, I'm not about to let you do it alone. He has all of us. And you know what's not going to help him? If any of us, especially you, is hanging on to guilt like you are now."

Scott rubs a hand over his face. "You're right," he murmurs. "I just… I was so scared when I saw it happen to him and I didn't know how to help him. I'm still not sure what I can do."

"What we can do," Isaac corrects. "And neither am I to be perfectly honest. But we'll figure it out. Together."

"What if we can't though?" Scott asks in a tortured voice.

Isaac is afraid. He's afraid of losing Allison whom he loves. He's afraid of losing Scott who is his brother. And he realizes now just how scared he is of losing Stiles. "I don't know," he admits after a while. "But we can try."

Scott gives half of a smile. "You know I also said the same exact thing to Stiles when I was with him for his panic attack. Because at first I told him he was going to be okay. And… and he didn't believe me. I've never known him to not believe me, Isaac. So I had to just tell him that we would try."

"And we will," Isaac swears. "We're not going down without a fight."

"I'm afraid of what might happen to me and Allison," Scott is saying now. "But I'm most afraid for Stiles. Whatever is happening to us… I think it's happening to him faster. I'm afraid we'll lose him."

Isaac wants to tell him that there's no way they're going to lose Stiles, but he can't. Not after today. So he does what he can and repeats himself as a reminder for both of them. "Not without a fight."

SCENE CHANGE.

When Stiles wakes up, he has no idea where he is at first. It's dark and shadowy, and he sits up in a panic.

"Stiles!" A reassuring hand is immediately on his arm. There's a click as someone switches on the light and Stiles shields his eyes from the brightness. "Stiles," he hears again. "It's okay. You're safe. You're awake. This is real."

"Isaac," he breathes, struggling a little to focus on the other teen. "Are… Are you sure?"

Isaac licks his lips nervously but nods. His eyes sweep over Stiles anxiously, softening when he sees that he's breathing just fine and seemingly aware. "I'm sure. Wanna count?" He starts to lift his hand off Stiles' arm so they can count fingers, but Stiles grabs his hand and holds it tightly.

"No." To Isaac's visible relief, Stiles' voice is calm and quiet. "No, I believe you." He sighs and slumps back against the couch, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry, Isaac." The memory of what happened us washing over him and the humiliation of it all is hardly bearable.

"For what?" Stiles opens his eyes to see Isaac regarding him with a perplexed expression on his face. "You don't have anything to apologize for, Stiles. It's… It's not like it was your fault."

Stiles runs his tongue over dry lips only to find Isaac pressing a glass of water into his hands. Surprised, he looks over at him and sees an understanding expression on his face. Oh.

Of course Isaac understands. He knows what it's like. All his life he had an abusive father. It makes perfectly good sense that he's had panic attacks before. This makes Stiles feel even worse.

As if he reads his mind, Isaac shakes his head. "Please don't worry about it, Stiles." He says more gently than Stiles has ever heard someone speak. "That was in the past. It's okay to think about yourself once in a while you know."

Before he can stop himself, Stiles gives a bark of laughter. He sees Isaac frown in confusion and hastens to explain. "If I think about myself these days, I'm afraid I might actually go insane."

"That makes sense," Isaac looks sad as he says this. He's still staring and Stiles gets the impression that he's taking in everything, not just the present. When he speaks next, he confirms this guess. "Don't take offense, but how long has it been since you slept?"

Stiles offers Isaac a lopsided grin. "Just now," he tries to joke, expecting and actually hoping for a sarcastic comeback. He's almost certain that he and Isaac have never had an interaction that didn't involve sarcasm.

"No, I mean really slept." Isaac says with uncharacteristic patience. "Without being exhausted from a panic attack. I know what that's like and practically nothing can disturb that kind of sleep."

He's right. Panic attacks take everything out of you and then some. Stiles has no idea how long he's been passed out on the couch but he's still tired. He notices Isaac watching and waiting. "A few weeks I guess," he admits vaguely.

Isaac hums in disapproval and shakes his head. Stiles finds himself wanting to add something because he doesn't want Isaac to look like that. But his mind is still foggy and slow so it's Isaac who speaks first. "That's not good," he says with a shake of his head. "You need more sleep than that, Stiles."

Stiles doesn't roll his eyes. Sarcasm, usually his only defense is gone. It's a little frightening to be so vulnerable and helpless in front of Isaac like he is now. But at the same time, Stiles notices that Isaac's hand is still on his arm. "I don't… I don't know how to sleep," he confesses. "I'm afraid to."

"Have you noticed…" Isaac is speaking slowly and carefully, not wanting to set Stiles off again with a poor choice of words. "Are there any triggers?"

Stiles shakes his head. "I've tried that," he tells him. "I've gone through the days writing down almost everything that happens to me. There's no common denominator. It's every night and almost every day." He looks down, unable to see the pity and concern in Isaac's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Stiles." Isaac murmurs. That's it. No false reassurance that everything will be okay. That they'll figure it out. Nothing. He knows Stiles won't believe him.

"I'm scared," Stiles hears himself say. "I'm scared because Scott and Allison are having problems too and I can't help them because I'm losing my own damn mind. I'm scared that Scott will worry too much about me and forget about himself. He does that you know."

"So do you," Isaac grins, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You guys are similar that way."

Stiles can't help but feel a little better at being compared to Scott. And by Isaac. Scott is the person Isaac trusts more than anyone else in the world. "I guess I had a good teacher then."

Isaac shrugs. "Or maybe you're just both naturally selfless," he suggests quietly.

Stiles' face burn. "Thanks. And thanks for… for helping me Isaac. You really didn't have to you know."

"What was I supposed to do?" Isaac asks dryly, and Stiles feels curiously relieved. Isaac sounds more like himself that way. "Leave you in the doorway?"

Stiles forces himself to meet Isaac's gaze. "Well," he says softly. "it's not like I deserved any help after the way I've treated you."

"I can't imagine me ignoring you would have gone well with Scott," Isaac replies. "Besides," and his cheeks are suddenly tinged with pink. "I wanted to help you."

"But why?" Stiles asks, feeling desperate. "Isaac, I've never given you any reason to like me, let alone want to help me. I've been terrible to you because… because I was Scott's best friend and then you came along and- god, it sounds so stupid now that I'm saying it out loud."

"Stupid maybe," Isaac says thoughtfully. "But I've felt the same way. And I can assure you, Stiles that there's no way I could take your place when it comes to Scott. Absolutely no way."

Stiles isn't so sure, but he also doesn't think it matters. Not right now anyway. "I'm still sorry," he tells Isaac. "You didn't deserve all those things I said and the way I treated you. You're actually a really good person, Isaac."

"So are you," Isaac says without hesitation. "And Stiles… I don't know what's going on with you or Allison or Scott, and I'm not going to promise you that we'll figure it out because, well because I don't know that for sure."

Stiles appreciates his honesty. It hurts to see Scott promise him things that neither of them believe. It hurts to see how much it tortures his best friend to be unable to help no matter how hard he tries.

"But I can promise you one thing," Isaac continues, making sure Stiles is paying attention. "We're going to try everything. If Scott is too worried about you and Allison, then I'll look after him. No one is going through this alone and that includes you because no matter what you might think, you do matter."

"After today," Stiles says, "I know that Scott will be in pretty good hands." Then he looks down where Isaac's hand is still on his arm. A feeling starts in his arm and travels through his entire body, taking the place of the constant exhaustion and dull panic. It's trust, he realizes. And what a good feeling it is. "And so am I."

A/N. My excuse is that Teen Wolf is a guilty pleasure and Stisaac is an even guiltier pleasure. I'm holding out hope that their relationship is explored a little during 3b. I think that they probably resent each other right now because they both want to be Scott's only best friend or whatever, but I also think that they'd be good for each other. Plus, they're both super sarcastic and sassy so all aboard the ship S.S. Stisaac am I right?