[AN: Teen Wolf this season is killing me so I decided to bang out a story that I wish would happen post 3b. Nothing major happens, just the slow building relationship that develops between Stiles and Derek, and how to cope with your own demons. Enjoy!]

With your feet on the air and your head on the ground. Try this trick and spin it, yeah. Your head will collapse but there's nothing in it and you'll ask yourself: Where is my mind? Way out in the water see it swimming. -Where Is My Mind, The Pixies

"Why did you do it?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I need to know, dude."

"Just drop it. You're alive, you should be grateful."

"I am but…"

"Then forget about it, Stiles."

It had been almost a month since the Nogitsune had been killed and Derek still felt where the bullet hit his chest. He'd taken a lot of hits in his life but that was the worst. It was the sort of blow that struck him right to the core, literally and figuratively, and even though it healed he knew he'd never stop feeling it.

Just like he felt how Stiles' eyes always fell on him now.

"SHOOT ME." Stiles yelled, the Nogitsune controlling him, as he baited Chris Argent to pull the trigger. Derek stood tense, knowing that something was going to happen, this whole thing was unstable from the start. But he sensed Argent start to squeeze the trigger and the werewolf seemed to react without actually thinking. Because there had been one thing in the back of his mind that had refused to be idle.

Don't let them kill Stiles.

Derek had jumped before he really knew what happened. He pushed Stiles back and took the bullet straight into his chest, enough to kill him, and he fell to his knees. Everyone seemed to freeze for a moment as Derek let out a roar.

"Derek!" It was Stiles' voice, his real voice that made his eyes fade back to normal. The boy scrambled over to Derek and he knew that it wasn't the fox. This was Stiles for however long they had him.

But Derek didn't wait for Stiles to lose control again. In agony, he turned and grabbed Stiles by the throat, the amber eyes growing wide. "You want pain? Use me. Stiles is weak, useless. If you really are powerful, take me instead."

There was a flash of confusion in Stiles eyes but all of a sudden his expression changed, a darker look in his eyes. "A fox can't just take over a wolf Derek. You're smarter than that."

"Can't? Or won't?"

"Trying to trick a trickster, I like that, I do. And you're agony is so...intoxicating." The fox laughed and Derek only squeezed his neck harder, the Sheriff taking a step closer but Argent held him back.

"Stiles is dying in there. That body won't last long and the kitsune is coming for you. Do it."

"I don't like being told what to do." At that moment, Stiles wrenched out of Derek's grasp, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back as he forced them both to their feet, Derek feeling another burst of pain go through him. It was then Kira and Scott rushed in, the katana already unsheathed and pointed towards Stiles.

"DO IT!" Derek roared and Argent raised his gun again as Stiles smirked, slamming his palm into Derek's chest as darkness slipped out of his very skin and seeped into Derek. The werewolf let out a howl of pain as the fox spirit entered into him, and he couldn't catch Stiles as he fell to the ground.

Derek felt a smile cross his lips as his mind began to black out, but he knew this was it. He turned to Argent, arms opened, as the man released two more bullets into Derek's chest. "What is this?" The nogitsune said through Derek's mouth, gripping the wounds that it desperately tried to heal but couldn't.

"Letharia Vulpina bullets." Argent said as Derek fell to his knees. The nogitsune had fallen for their trap, though no one knew that Derek had planned to convince the nogitsune to jump into him. Or that it would actually work.

Stiles barely started to stir as Derek fell completely to the ground, poison coursing through him. He started shaking and he could register voices saying his name, heard a screaming inside of his head. But there was a familiar heartbeat beside him. It hadn't been for nothing. Even as the whole world went black and he felt a blade sink itself into his shoulder. Stiles was alive.

After the nogitsune had left his body, Stiles knew he wouldn't be the same. He woke up in the hospital screaming, so disoriented and crazed that they had to restrain him. Luckily Melissa had convinced them not to sedate him after he had begged and nearly screamed himself hoarse to stop them. He couldn't go back to sleep. He couldn't let himself be vulnerable again.

"You really need to get some sleep, kiddo." The sheriff had said and Stiles only nodded, keeping his eyes forward to avoid the worried looks his father gave. Scott stopped by every day too but Stiles didn't talk much. He didn't quite know what to say.

"If you ever need to talk, dude, you know I'll listen. We're all here for you." And when Stiles didn't go into the details of how guilty he really felt, Scott usually let him alone. Lydia was more of the same. But what Stiles wanted was for everyone to leave him alone. That, and to stop being tired. He could only fight it for so long.

When he finally did fall asleep, he woke up screaming. But he was getting used to the panic attacks.

The one person who didn't come see him was the one he actually had questions for.

"What happened to Derek?" He had asked Scott who seemed almost surprised that no one had told him yet.

"We thought he was dead after Kira had to stab him, but he's okay now. Deaton stopped by the loft to check on him and he told me that Derek's mostly healed. I can't believe he saved your life...not like I'm not happy about that. Just...surprised."

"Well maybe it would've been better if he didn't."

"I know you don't mean that…"

"Do you, Scott? Because I don't know what to think." A silence fell over them and Scott had that same worried look that Stiles had gotten to know.

"It'll get better. Remember what you said back at the motel? We're brothers. We get through things together." Scott smiled slightly but Stiles didn't return it. He kept playing it all over in his head. Watching as his body did things his mind couldn't control. How long was he a prisoner? Was he still one now?

"Yeah." Was all he said. But Scott had gotten used to Stiles this way.

When they finally released him from the hospital, Stiles stayed home the last few days before summer vacation. He couldn't face being back at school, not now. Instead he stayed in bed most days, fighting sleep or waking up screaming. It had become a routine.

It was another week before Scott forced him to meet up at the loft to discuss what to do with the nemeton. Stiles didn't want to go and the whole time he couldn't look at Allison. Because he knew that he was the reason Issac still hadn't woken up. Might never wake up. Even when his eyes landed on Derek, the werewolf seemed to ignore him. But he looked different too. Changed.

"I need to go. I can't stay here." Stiles said suddenly, not waiting for anyone to answer him before he headed for the door.

"Stiles!" Scott started after him but Derek stopped him.

"Let him go."

Stiles walked out of the loft, counting his fingers like he always did now, his chest feeling tight. Nothing felt real any more. He got in his jeep and parked it off the road, waiting for everyone to leave before making his way back up to Derek's loft.

But the werewolf still refused to give him answers.

"Can I just...hang around here for a little while?" Stiles asked the question and felt ridiculous, but Derek didn't even glare at him.

"Fine." Derek went over to his kitchen, expecting Stiles to start talking to him or follow him, but instead the boy just sat on the couch, eyes ahead. And Derek knew just how bad this was for him. He had felt those few moments of helplessness and even that was too much.

"I'm not hungry." Stiles said as Derek placed a sandwich in front of him. But the werewolf only crossed his arms.

"Too bad. You need to eat. If you're going to stay here then you follow my rules." Grudgingly, Stiles took a bite even though he barely had any appetite.

"Wait...are you letting me crash here tonight?"

"You're the one who wanted to stay."

"Yeah but I thought you'd say no," Their eyes met then and Derek seemed just about as readable as ever, "My dad probably wants me home anyway."

"I already called him. He just wants you to try and get a good night's sleep, wherever you are." Derek could see the circles under Stiles eyes and wondered just how long it had been since he'd actually slept through the night.

"That's pretty unlikely," Derek remained silent and Stiles actually decided to keep talking. Maybe what he needed was for someone to not ask him what was wrong, just be there when he was ready to say something, "When I'm awake, I don't know what's real. When I'm asleep, I think I'm going to get trapped again. I'm not exactly a good sleepover buddy." He smiled sadly up at Derek.

"Sleep or don't sleep, that's your choice," Derek walked into his bedroom, coming back with a pillow and a blanket that he handed to Stiles, "Try and relax at least, your body needs rest." Briefly Derek watched as Stiles arranged the pillow, thinking about his name attached to the king on the chessboard. That was a conversation he would never have.

"If I do fall asleep…"

"Your dad told me about the panic attacks," Derek said this so nonchalantly that Stiles almost didn't feel embarrassed. Almost, "It's not something I'm going to kick you out over." The boy didn't answer, which was something that Derek wasn't really used to so he turned and headed for his own bedroom hearing a soft, 'thanks' being muttered from behind him.

Stiles lay down on the couch and thought about how he didn't want to sleep. And how heavy his eyes felt. And how this pillow smelled like Derek. And how this weird feeling of safety was slowing creeping over him.

The scream was bloodcurdling. It ripped out of Stiles and forced him upright as his body shook, trying to ground himself to something but failed. He could barely breathe as he yelled, only gasping in a breath when he felt strong hands clasp to his shoulders. He tried to squirm away, but they held him firm.

"Look at the table," Derek's voice was firm, commanding and Stiles was trying to breathe right but couldn't and he didn't understand what the werewolf meant, "Stiles, look at the table. Read it." He could feel Derek rubbing his shoulders, keeping a firm grip as he angled Stiles closer to the coffee table. There, where it wasn't before, was a copy of the paper. Stiles felt his breathing start to slow as his eyes finally focused on the headline.

"'Beacon Hills elects new council member.'" He forced out the words and his eyes closed in relief as he did, Derek's hands remaining as he continued to rub his shoulders.

"You're awake. I put that paper there after you fell asleep."

"You know about lucid dreaming?" Stiles asked, turning slightly and the warmth of Derek's hands left him. He missed the comforting touch.

"Cora said it happened to her sometimes. She told me that the way she knew she was dreaming was to look at numbers or words and if they were distorted, she knew she was asleep. I figured you might need a reminder that you're awake."

"Thanks, dude," Stiles said with a sigh of relief, feeling that he could finally breathe properly now. Stiles looked at his phone and his eyes widened when he saw the time. "It is really 4am?"

"Are you really asking that?" Derek said dully as he glanced at the phone as well, but Stiles just looked slightly dumbfounded.

"I haven't slept that long in months." He finally looked up at Derek and the werewolf really could tell how much of an improvement this must be. Even a few hours was better than nothing, and Stiles couldn't believe his mind had actually let him sleep that long. It was something.

"You should try and go back to sleep."

"I'd really rather not go all night terrors on you again. You can go to sleep, I'll be quiet." Stiles was content staring at a wall these days, but Derek didn't move.

"I wasn't planning on going to sleep. I don't sleep much anyway. Haven't in a while," The look in Derek's eyes made Stiles wonder just how long exactly, and he assumed that maybe Derek dreamt of fire the way he still dreamt of the nogitsune's riddles. The past never really stays in the past, "I was just gonna read."

"Okay," Stiles said with a slight nod as Derek at started walking back towards his room. Stiles's eyes got fixed on a crack in the wall, ready to rest there but Derek sat down beside him on the couch, "You're reading Fight Club?"

"I like Palahniuk."

"I've never read it."

"Good." And with that, Derek started reading out loud. He didn't know how much time passed, but Stiles once again felt safe. And for now, that was enough.

That's how Stiles found himself staying at Derek's loft almost every night. He would come over and sometimes they would barely talk, but they usually ended up sitting on the couch together. There were nights that Stiles would show up with pizza or Derek would attempt to cook something. But Stiles still didn't eat much. The werewolf even found himself missing how much Stiles used to talk, as annoying as he once found it. There were still shadows lurking within the boy and Derek could see them hiding behind his eyes.

When Stiles did go to sleep (and Derek tried to get him to almost every night) he still woke up screaming. But Derek always kept something on the coffee table for Stiles to read, force himself to realize he's awake.

It was when Scott finally confronted Derek as to why Stiles smelled so much like him, the older werewolf was almost happy to hear how protective Scott got.

"I don't know what you're doing with Stiles, but he doesn't need you messing with him."

"I'm not doing anything to him. He's just staying over a few nights."

"I'm serious, Derek. We just got him back, I don't want him getting any worse."

"I'm trying to help him," When Derek said this, Scott actually seemed to consider what he was saying and that it might be true, "You're the Alpha now, you know I'm not lying."

"I just...I know he's having a hard time." Scott was worried, everyone was, and Derek figured he owed it to him to not give him the cold shoulder.

"He's safe with me. I won't let him go down that wrong path." He knew that Scott could at least believe that considering Derek risked his own life to save Stiles. That couldn't have been for nothing.

"I'm trusting you, Derek."

When Stiles came over that night, he walked in with a pillow tucked under his arm and a gushing wound over his eyebrow. He seems calm about it, but had one eye scrunched close to keep the blood from getting in. Derek's brows furrowed the moment he saw the cut and he grabbed Stiles' chin with his hand, turning his jaw to get a better look.

"What happened?"

"I tripped on the way up the stairs. I thought...it's stupid, but I thought I heard the Nogitsune and I started freaking out. So I tripped," A slightly weary smile crossed Stiles lips as he quoted Fight Club, "'Don't want to die without any scars,' right?"

"Go sit up on the counter. You might need stitches." Stiles went and hopped up on the counter as Derek returned with a first aid kit. At least he was prepared.

"Do I look like I got in a fight?" Stiles asked as Derek grabbed a wash cloth and started to carefully wipe the blood off his face, Stiles only letting out a hiss when the hot cloth touched the cut.

"You look like you hit your head." The stinging of the cut made Stiles feel almost energized, like the pain had woken him up. And that was something that scared him.

"It stings a bit but I'll live."

"You might have a concussion so you can't go to sleep tonight." Derek's eyes moved off of the wound and met Stiles' gaze. He gently pressed the wash cloth against his head.

"That won't be a problem."

"I mean it, Stiles. It could be dangerous if you fell asleep and I don't need you dying in my loft." It was the look on the boys face that really killed Derek. It was a ghost of a smile, something broken that the light had left.

"Yeah well maybe it's supposed to happen that way. Seems like it doesn't it?" The moment Stiles said this, Derek grabbed his chin almost forcefully and made Stiles look at him.

"You need to cut this shit. I know that you're not trying to get better, and I know that for some reason you don't care if you ever will. But you need to find something to anchor yourself to."

"I'm not a goddamn werewolf, Derek." Stiles tried to break away from Derek but he kept his hold, pulling out a needle and thread to stitch up his cut.

"The principle is still the same. If you don't find something to pull you out of this, it'll drag you under." Derek didn't bother with trying to numb the cut before he started to stitch and Stiles let out another pained hiss.

"Maybe I don't care if it does. Maybe I deserve it." Stiles couldn't look at Derek when he said this and a silence fell between them.

"That wasn't you, no matter what you think."

"It might not have been my choice, but I did it. I watched it all happened and no matter how loud I screamed in there, I couldn't stop. I still don't know what's real...like I'll wake up from this and I will still be a prisoner, you know?" At these words, Derek pressed his thumb into the stitched up cut and Stiles let out a surprised yelp of pain, "Dude, what the hell was that for?"

"That is your reminder that this isn't a dream. If you ever doubt that, focus on what's real. Maybe pain will be your anchor, but I don't recommend it."

"It feels good in a way...to be on the receiving end."

"You lost yourself in there, Stiles. You just need to find your way back."

"I don't know if I can do that," Stiles voice turned to a whisper and tears formed in his eyes. He felt vulnerable again, standing on the precipice in his own mind, "What if there is no way back?"

Derek didn't answer because he didn't knowing there was one. He had stared down the darkness before and knew just how hard it was to claw out. So he decided to do what no one had ever really done for him. He wrapped his arms around Stiles, hugging him firmly because he knew that sometimes, you just need something to hold onto. Stiles froze for a second before he hugged back, surprised that Derek had initiated this at all. But he'd take it. Stiles moved off the counter and let himself completely move into Derek's arms, fighting the urge to let his tears fall.

"It's okay, Stiles. It's okay." Derek didn't have to say anything for Stiles to know that he was giving him permission. He let one actual sob out as he gripped Derek's shirt, holding on like he would fall apart to let go. And Derek held on right back. Because part of him needed it too. He reached a hand up to massage his fingers through Stiles' hair comfortingly.

Stiles wasn't sure how long they stood like that. Or how long it took for him to let everything out. But he liked this feeling of warmth and protection, he liked laying his head against the very real form that was Derek. He didn't stay against him forever though and eventually they both parted.

"Thanks...for that," Stiles said somewhat awkwardly as he wiped his face, "Maybe it would be best to keep this like Fight Club. As in, we don't talk about it."

"Yeah," Derek agreed as he headed for his room, glancing back at Stiles, "I'm not sitting on that couch all night." Stiles realized that this was actually an invitation, so he followed the werewolf into his room, which was just as minimalist as the rest of the place.

"You want me to sleep with you?" When Stiles asked this, Derek slightly raised an eyebrow and the boys felt heat rush to his face, "I mean sleep in the same bed as you..."

"No. You won't be sleeping. Not if you have a concussion."

"Oh...right."

"So get in." Derek almost commanded it and Stiles took off his shoes before getting into bed. Derek Hale's bed. The realization was a little much for him. Especially when Derek grabbed Fight Club and sat beside him in bed.

"You're actually willing to sit up all night and read to me?"

"We need to pass the time. We can finish this tonight." Derek opened the book to where they left off. Stiles realized that, while being pretty awake now that he was actually sharing a bed with Derek, he also felt comfortable enough to actually sleep. Maybe he would actually need to fight to stay awake tonight.

"Too bad you don't have the movie."

"There's a movie?" When Derek said this, Stiles' mouth opened slightly in disbelief.

"C'mon dude. Brad Pitt, Edward Norton," Derek showed no signs of recognition and Stiles just shook his head, "You really live under a rock don't you." Stiles started to sink down against the pillows and Derek frowned.

"Don't go to sleep."

"I won't."

"I mean it, Stiles."

"Whatever you say, Sourwolf." Even as Stiles' eyes began to droop, Derek felt something like hope. There was a glimpse of the old Stiles there. Even if for a moment.

"I have something new for us to try." When Stiles showed up at the loft (head examined and stitches properly fixed), Derek had on actual sweatpants and was standing in the open space in front of the windows.

"What do you mean?" The whole 'us' part had thrown him off. Derek took a step forward.

"Hit me."

"What?" Stiles stared at him like he wasn't sure he had heard properly.

"You heard me. Hit me."

"Like with my fist?"

"Yes, Stiles." Derek sounded almost bored but he could hear the way Stiles' heart picked up. This was what he wanted. Have Stiles find some life inside of himself again.

"We're not in Fight Club, Derek. I'm not going to hit you," When Stiles said this, Derek brought his hands up and pushed him. He made sure not to use his werewolf strength, just enough to get a reaction. Stiles stumbled back slightly taken off guard, "Are you serious?"

"Fight back. You're stronger than you think you are. Prove it." Derek pushed him again and Stiles moved out of his reach.

"I don't want to hurt you!" Stiles raised his voice but Derek pushed him again.

"It isn't about that. You need to let this out. Fight, Stiles. You have control now." Derek moved to push him again and Stiles felt like he was back inside his own head. But no one had told him to fight. No one had pushed him like this.

"I can't!" Stiles felt like he would lose it but then Derek pushed him again and his voice raised to a commanding tone.

"Hit me!" The werewolf demanded and so Stiles made a fist and threw his whole weight into punching Derek right in the jaw. His eyes flashed blue for a moment and Stiles took a step back.

"Derek...I didn't mean..."

"Good," Derek grabbed Stiles' hand and opened his fist, touching him on the palm, "Do it again with your palm."

Stiles did as he was told and Derek's eyes remained blue. Just like Derek hoped, something seemed to snap in Stiles. He started hitting rapidly, losing any sort of technique he had and just let his fists collide against Derek's chest. Soon his vision started to blur as his hands slowed. He felt his breathing get difficult and he gasped in air just as Derek's arms came around him to hold him up.

"That was a good first lesson." Derek said softly and Stiles clung to him. And the older werewolf clung right back.

Stiles graduated completely off the couch that night. Both realized that he did better sleeping with someone and since Derek was the only candidate present, he decided to let Stiles sleep beside him. It was only when Derek pulled off his shirt did the boy question him.

"I'd that from where Chris Argent shot you?" He eyed the wound on Derek's chest which never healed right. Still ached from time to time.

"Yeah."

"Did I ever actually thank you for saving my life?" Derek didn't look at Stiles. Instead he got into bed, put his back to the boy, and was still.

"I probably owed you."

After that they both went silent. But when Stiles woke up screaming hours later, Derek held him. It felt intimate and safe, Stiles curled right into him and the werewolf let him. He let Stiles count his fingers and stayed awake with him until his breathing got normal again. And it was then Stiles realized that he was the one who owed Derek. He owed him everything.

"I still don't get why we're doing this." Stiles said as they both stood face to face again, Derek ready to spar.

"When the nogitsune had control over you, it had the upper hand. But what we're doing is training you to be ready in a situation so you have more of a defense then your sarcasm."

"But I like my sarcasm..."

"I'm trying to find you an anchor."

"I just...I don't know if it's safe for me to know how to hurt people." Stiles went somewhat quiet and Derek walked forward to gently squeeze his shoulder.

"Self defense is good. It'll focus you, tire you out, and prepare you if you ever need to defend yourself."

"The idea of hurting people..."

"You won't be hurting anyone. Right now, this is therapy. And I heal fast. Now let's start."

And that's how Stiles and Derek's 'fight club' started. Stiles would come over and learn new blocks, hits, kicks, and ways to get out of holds. He learned different fighting styles, how to use his knees and elbows, even how to hit pressure points. He got bruised up, sometimes bloody, but never anything serious because Derek was always careful, even when Stiles wanted him to hit harder. But the little injuries weren't as easy to explain to his dad and Scott. But Derek took care of that too.

"Dude that feels way too good." Stiles said, eyes closed as Derek would suck the wound right out of him. But he left some of the pain. Stiles said it made him feel awake.

They practiced meditation too and went running. They passed the hours at night and Stiles found himself hungry. He needed the energy to keep training and there were definitely muscles that started showing. He was actually putting some weight back on. And everyone started to notice the change in him physically. Mentally was still another story.

"Stiles! Stiles, you're okay. You're with me." Derek pulled the boy into his arms when the screaming started. He had gotten better but nights were still the hardest. Whatever lurked in the back of his mind still wouldn't give him rest.

"I'm sick of this. I'm sick of not even being able to make it through the night." Stiles spoke in a hoarse voice against Derek's chest, eyes shut, curled in the warm presence holding him together.

"It'll get better."

"When? It's been months..." Stiles pulled away from Derek suddenly and turned away from him, feeling colder, "You can't keep doing this. It's not fair. I've put you through enough shit for a lifetime."

"Ever consider that I don't mind doing this?"

"Yeah because babysitting some guy is your idea of fun." A silence fell on them and minutes passed before Stiles felt the mattress move and Derek pressed up against him, wrapping an arm around his waist. Stiles froze for a moment before he relaxed back into him.

"I've been where you are. I didn't have anyone to pull me out. I used anger to anchor myself and watched everything I care about burn around me," Stiles moved his hand to cover Derek's giving it a light squeeze, "I'm not going to watch you turn into me."

"It wouldn't be so bad. I can't grow a beard to save my life though."

"Be you, Stiles. That's the point of all this." Stiles had the sudden need to look at Derek, so he turned around in his arms to face him.

"Thanks. I mean that." Stiles hesitantly reached up a hand to touch Derek's jaw and the werewolf closed his eyes.

"Try and go back to sleep."

"Can we stay like this tonight?" Stiles nearly whispered the question. Usually after one of his episodes they parted somewhat, never stayed cuddled up. Derek moved so Stiles could fit right against him and the werewolf draped an arm protectively around his waist.

"Okay."

They woke up still wrapped together. Derek found himself a little too intimately pressed into Stiles and the quickening of the boys heartbeat told him that he wasn't the only one. He smelled that arousal on Stiles and knew that this was something that was probably bound to happen, however improbable it seemed. But Derek moved away, sitting up to place his feet on the floor before Stiles spoke.

"Is there...is there something here? Like between us?"

Derek heard the nervousness in his voice and understood where it was coming from. Still all he answered was, "I don't know."

"I'll take that."

"Dude, there's gotta be something going on with you and Derek."

"What do you mean?" Scott had finally decided to officially confront Stiles about his 'relationship' with Derek. He'd beaten around the topic enough.

"I know you've been staying over at night but his scent is all over you. Isn't that his shirt?" Stiles looked down and realized that he had slipped on the werewolf's shirt. That sort of thing was happening more often than not lately.

"Nothing's going on. He's just a friend, no weirdness to report."

"I don't mean weirdness, I mean are you guys like...you know..." Scott made a face and Stiles felt his cheeks flush. Like he really needed to be thinking about sex with Derek Hale.

"No. That is so not a thing that's happening."

"Then what's going on with you two?" Scott looks concerned and briefly Stiles thinks about his night terrors, the comforting arms, the jaws punches, the late-night reading and he realized maybe he is in some kind of relationship with Derek.

"I can't talk about it."

"Wait...so it's like Fight Club?"

"Yep, it's exactly like Fight Club."

It's a few weeks later that it happens. After nights of Chinese takeout, starting A Game of Thrones (Stiles assured Derek that the show was awesome so the book had to be), learning new Muay Thai techniques, and starting to actually sleep through the night, Stiles really lost it.

In the middle of the night, Derek had gotten a phone call from Cora and went onto his balcony to talk to her. Stiles didn't wake up screaming, instead he found himself back in the basement at Eichen House. It was cold again, painfully so, and once again his feet were trapped in such a way he couldn't move them. But it was that familiar voice that really struck fear into him.

"Let me in, Stiles."

"You're not real. This isn't real." Stiles started repeating the words to try and convince himself but it was no use. He could feel the nogitsune lurking in the corners, haunting in the periphery.

"It's all real, Stiles. You've dreamt of peace for too long. Do you really think you could escape me that easily?" Flashes of memory came back then. Counting too many fingers and backwards newspaper headlines like all his little ways to know he was awake had been a lie. That Derek had never taken that bullet. That he had never been in the werewolf's arms. That was the worst part.

"No...no! NO! NO! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" Stiles yelled as he gripped his own head, trying to fight off the words the nogitsune said.

"Let me in, Stiles. It's easier if you don't fight." Stiles could feel the creature draw closer and the boy struggled to stand up.

"Stay away from me!" Stiles yelled as he forced himself to stand, taking a defensive stance as he heard the dark laughter sound around him.

"Are you really willing to fight yourself?" The nogitsune walked out in front of Stiles but once again it has his face. It was him. But there was something so dark in his gaze, "Come on, Stiles, don't you miss the power? The strength? Let me in. Let me in!"

"NO!" Stiles screamed out as he leapt forward and wrapped his hands around the nogitsune's neck, "GET OUT OF MY HEAD! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" He screamed over and over as the thing tried to laugh at him.

"Stiles!"

He heard his name being called but he refused to answer. He needed to hurt the nogitsune, he knew how to fight back now. He squoze hard, refusing to let go as he continued to yell.

"Stiles!"

The voice didn't sound like his but he refused to let this spirit control him any longer.

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"

"STILES WAKE UP!" The voice yelled at him. So loud it shattered through him and ripped him back into reality. Stiles took a deep breath as his eyes shot open and he realized who had been yelling his name.

"Derek?" His voice was a whisper as he slowly lowered his hands from Derek's neck. The werewolf looked at him with eyes filled with concern, having followed his scent down into the basement of the loft.

"You were sleepwalking..." Derek reached out for him but Stiles flinched back, looking around to make sure he really wasn't in Eichen House but he couldn't be sure. He couldn't be sure of anything.

"No...no how do I know this is real? How do I..." He started to feel himself losing it, trying to hold on but now he doubted himself.

"Stiles, count your fingers." Derek attempted to step closer but the boy yelled back at him.

"NO! I can't trust that...I can't trust anything..." Stiles felt himself start to shake and Derek couldn't stand to watch him continue to doubt himself, not anymore. If he couldn't listen to reason then he needed something else.

"You fought it, Stiles. You didn't let your fear control you."

"No...I don't..." He tried to say something but he couldn't, it was then Derek pulled off his shirt, grabbing Stiles' hand and placing it over the wound on top of his heart.

"This is real. Do you feel this? I took this bullet, it killed the nogitsune. You are awake." Stiles felt the steady heartbeat under his hand, the wound that may never fully healed. A mark he made on Derek forever.

"Derek..."

Stiles pleaded in his voice and Derek didn't use words to convince him. Because it was beyond words now. Derek grabbed Stiles' face between his hands as he pressed his lips hard against his, hard enough for it to hurt. Teeth and need. Stiles didn't react right away, so taken off guard, and he almost pulled back but Derek wasn't going to let him keep pushing back inside of himself. The werewolf nearly growled when Stiles' hands grabbed onto his chest, digging into the skin there as he finally responded. Derek's arms came around the smaller frame and Stiles closed his eyes, his mind finally quiet. Able to forget for a moment and focus on kissing Derek. On the swollen ache of his lips and the heat radiating under his hands.

It was Stiles who pulled back first, remaining close as his eyes met Derek's and his voice remained a whisper, "This is real?"

"Yes. How else can I convince you?"

"You could maybe try that again..." Stiles mumbled the words and an actual smile crossed Derek's lips, an infectious thing, "I still don't know. When else would the Derek Hale decide to kiss me but when I'm dreaming?"

"Why would he take a bullet for you if he didn't care about you? Do I need to spell this out?" Derek's hand came up to squeeze Stiles' shoulder, making sure to meet his gaze.

"What if I can't shake this thing?" Worry was written across the boys face but Derek didn't let him go.

"I'll stick around to make sure you do. Your right hook still needs work."

"I think I know what my anchor is now." Stiles leaned his weary head against Derek's shoulder for a moment, simply taking calming breaths.

"What is it?"

Stiles looked up then, meeting the blue gaze that he had kept in the back of his mind for so long. Thought about how the nogitsune had made Derek the king on the chessboard knowing how much he meant to Stiles. How it wanted to hurt the werewolf to hurt it's host. Thought about holding him up in that pool, waking him up in the hospital, receiving the only copy of his loft key when he left town. It was like he knew the answer all along.

"You."

As the weeks passed, Stiles had less nightmares. Whether it was because he trained harder or fell asleep in Derek's arms, he couldn't be sure. No one officially talked about it, but everyone started to notice the change between Stiles and Derek. It was little touches on the shoulder, Derek's hand on the small of Stiles back. Lydia told Allison she saw them kiss beside the jeep one night but they didn't bring it up. But Derek did start going to dinner at the Stilinski house, which started to actually feel like home. The sheriff also decided to deactivate the camera is Stiles' room, for his own sanity.

He still woke up screaming sometimes. Derek would hold him close and remind him why he fought, kept him from drifting away in the seas of his own mind. But slowly, Stiles was coming back to life. Derek wasn't even bothered when he starting talking nonstop, or when he referred to him as 'Tyler Durden.' Because in a lot of ways, Derek did make him free again. They were pieces of each other that maybe together did make something whole.

Though they never quite defined it, for now waking up beside each other was enough.

"Does the hole in your chest still hurt?" Stiles asked one morning, curled and and bare beside Derek as his fingers touched the unhealed wound that had never gone away.

"No, not in a long time."

"Neither does mine."