Stiles lay on his bed, his face buried in the pillows, again thinking about how he could have underestimated Gerard like this. It wasn't any help that his father was no comfort at all since Stiles couldn't tell him the truth about what really happened. He turned around on his bed, now staring at his bedrooms ceiling thinking about what would come next.

His lip itched. He licked his thumb and then tried to rub off the scab but it didn't quite do anything but leading to more itching. He stopped rubbing his lip and let his head fall back into the pillows. Just then, there was a knock on the door.

"I said I'm fine, Dad", Stiles said in a sort of tired voice. He heard his father trying to turn the handle but it was no use: Stiles had locked his door. He wanted to be alone.

"Stiles. You've been in your room now for two hours and I've got dinner ready. Would you please come downstairs?" The voice of Stiles' dad was muffled through the door, but Stiles couldn't miss the worried sound of it. He knew it wasn't his father's fault what happened to him, but that didn't make the situation any better. Deciding that it would be best to just swallow his pride, Stiles got up and opened his bedroom door, facing the anxious face of his father.

"Alright, I'll have dinner with you, but only if you leave me alone the rest of the evening, because.. well.. you see I just need some time for myself, Dad." Apologies weren't a strong point of Stiles but then he suddenly found himself in an embrace with his dad. Once his dad let go, he grabbed Stiles' shoulders and held him at arms' length.

"I'm just worried, Stiles. So please just come down, alright?" Papa Stilinski said with a rather miserable smile on his face.

"Alright Dad. Let's have dinner."

His dad had made a real effort at trying to comfort Stiles. He even had made his favourite food and it has been delicious. Stiles thanked him and headed upstairs, wanting to take a shower before he would fall onto his bed again, knowing that he would not be able to get up until he woke up the next morning.

It was a really good feeling, the jet of water streaming all over his body, the room filled with hot steam and nobody to disturb him. Time didn't matter right now to Stiles, he just felt too relaxed to care about it. He finally had some time for himself, sometime where he didn't have to think about Scott or to worry about anything else.

After a few more minutes, he decided that it was time to turn off the shower and get back to his room. He dried himself off, put his boxer shorts back on, threw is shirt, jeans and socks into the clothes basket and headed to his room. He then flung himself straight onto the bed, facedown. His mobile, lying on the bedside table, vibrated. He looked up, grabbed it, but let it fall instantly again.

Derek stood in the shadows in the corner of the room.

"What the hell!" Stiles cried out, sitting straight up in his bed as fast as he could, but Derek put his finger to his mouth and said "Shush! You don't want your dad to come in, do you?" with a rather angry facial expression. Stiles totally ignored that question and jumped off his bed.

"What the hell are you doing in my room?"

"Scott told me what happened," Derek said defending.

"So what?" Stiles said, now crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"So I needed to make sure you're ok. Are you, Stiles?"

Stiles was bewildered.

"Why do you care for that?" Stiles had no idea why especially Derek would care about his health.

„We need you."

Stiles was more bewildered than ever before.

"We? Who's 'we'? And what do you need me for?"

"'We' means Scott, Peter, Erica, Isaac, Boyd and me. And we need you because we've got the brawns... but you've got the brains. You see things we don't. That's why we need you."

Stiles couldn't think of an answer. It just hit him that there really were people who cared about him. Even though he hasn't thought of others than his dad and Scott... but there were, obviously.

"I still don't see why you sneaked into my room just to make sure I'm okay."

"I watched Scott to make sure he doesn't mess everything up recently and so I didn't get around watching you too. I pretended I didn't see the empty look in your eyes when no one was watching. Well, I can't pretend that I don't see this", Derek said, pointing at Stiles bruised face. "They will heal, though. But what's hurt inside you will probably not."

Stiles felt himself sitting down on his bed. How did he...? Why...?

Derek took a step towards Stiles without taking his glance from him.

"What's wrong, Stiles? What's the matter?

Should he really tell Derek what was wrong? Derek never really seemed to like Stiles at all, but since it now looked like it was otherwise...

"My... my mom..."

"She died, right?" Derek asked in a rather soft, unusual voice.

"Yeah," said Stiles looking down, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "But, Derek," Stiles said, looking up at Derek standing in front of him. "Why do you care? It's not like we're friends after all."

"Nobody else seems to care."

"Well yeah it seems totally legit for the big bad werewolf who always just cared about himself, listening to little sad Stiles complaining."

"Oh my god would you just shut up!" Derek said angrily. "I said 'we need you' and that's how I meant it. So would you please stop your sarcasm for a minute and answer my question?"

Stiles now just stared at Derek. He cared about him, he actually cared.

"Alright," Stiles said quietly. "So... it's because of my mom. She... oh god..." Stiles was lost for words.

Suddenly, Derek sat down next to Stiles. Just then, Stiles became aware of the fact that he only had his boxer shorts on.

"I'll... I'll just get some pants on," he said awkwardly, getting up and taking a fresh pair of jeans out of his dresser. Then he sat back on the bed.

"What happened?" Derek asked, looking sideway at Stiles.

"She died of cancer." Tears filled Stiles eyes which he tried to hide by looking at his feet. "It happened seven years ago. I... I was at the hospital spending as much time with her as I could because the docs said she would only have very little time left. It was pretty late already and I hadn't had dinner yet so I told my mom I would be back in a minute. But... when I got back..." Now, tears were flooding down Stiles' cheeks. "There were nurses in there and a doc and... and they... they pulled the blanket over my mom's head." Stiles couldn't go on. He had never told anybody this apart from his dad and Scott. He felt so sad but at the same time relieved. Wiping his nose, he added: "But it doesn't matter. Nobody cares to talk about it. So why would you?"

"It's not your fault that no one cares to talk about it", said Derek. "It's theirs if they don't care. But it's important to you, it still is, that's obvious, and of course it's not an easy thing to lose ones mother. I don't understand how Scott can just… like… ignore it."

"He just doesn't understand. Of course his dad left. But that's just a divorce and he was never really close to him anyway. But my mom... my mom meant everything to me."

"She still does, Stiles," Derek said, reaching out for Stiles hand, but pulling it back before it reached Stiles'. "I know that feeling. I lost my mom too." Derek let go of Stiles hand and now looked at his feet himself.

"I know you know about the fire; seven years ago. It happened just after I left for school with my sister Laura but we had no idea what happened until the police showed up at school telling us. Up until today I wish I spent more time with her..."

Stiles looked up at Derek, seeing that his eyes, too, were watery.

"I'm sorry, Derek."

Derek looked up, straight into Stiles brown eyes. Stiles could see so much more grief in Derek's eyes right now that the death of his mother couldn't be the only thing.

"There's more, isn't there?" Stiles asked.

Derek looked back at his feet.

"Yes... I was fifteen. I fell in love with a girl at school. Her name was Paige." A small smile played around the corners of Derek's mouth. "She was so different from everyone I knew. She always seemed to know when I was lying or hiding something from her – as if she could read my mind." Derek's smile vanished. "But one day, Peter tricked me into begging another werewolf to bite her." Stiles could see the muscles in Derek's jaw working. "She... she rejected the bite."

"So she turned into a Kanima like Jackson?" Stiles asked curiously.

"No. Remember "If it doesn't turn you, it kills you"?" Derek now looked at Stiles again.

"She... she died?" Stiles said aghast.

"She would have, yes. I was with her when she suffered most. She asked me... she asked me to end her suffering. I did," Derek said toneless. A single tear hit the carpet.

"Damn Derek... I didn't know..."

"Well... because no one cares about my past. But it made me what I am now." Derek wiped another tear away and took a deep breath. "That's what I was trying to tell you, Stiles. Don't be ashamed of what happened to you. And do not think that no one cares. Because I do. Always remember that, will you?"

As their eyes met, Stiles said: "I will, Derek."