A/N: Here we are, my second Sterek fic. I am in LOVE with fully shifted Derek and wish we got more of that in the show instead of just the little tease in s4. And we all know that there is now way Stiles is FINE after 3b. And also, it's recently come out that Stiles was in fact supposed to be Derek's anchor and he figured that out at the end of 3b I think and it was going to be explored more after s4 but, sadly Tyler Hoechlin left the show taking Derek and all of our Sterek hopes and dreams with him. So keeping that in mind I came up with this. Just a short kind of thing but I split it into 2 chapters.

Let me know what you think :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf.

Chapter 1

"If you want my help, you'll have to tell me something, Stiles. Coming here and telling me you can't sleep? Well you could simply tell this to your regular practitioner and they would provide you with a prescription to help with that. If you're coming to me, then I assume there is a more specific reason for your insomnia, one that a normal doctor would be unable to help with. For me to aid you in any way, I need to get a sense of the root of the problem to begin to address it in the best possible way."

Stiles stared at Deaton with narrowed eyes. The Druid simple stares back, unphased by the glare set on him, and waits.

Stiles huffs out a sigh, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Every night is the same; I wake up before I've really even closed my eyes it seems. Sure, I know that what happened wasn't my fault…But," Stiles pauses, his tired eyes raising to meet Deaton's. "Do you know what it feels like to kill 20 people in under 10 minutes? What it feels like to actually absorb that feeling of panic and pain as someone literally sees their death coming?"

Deaton shakes his head. "You were conscious during the Nogitsune's attack on the hospital." He says, not as a question but as a fact he's come to find true. Stiles averts his eyes, nodding slowly. "Stiles, I see the guilt you're facing but you were not responsible for the actions of that chaos demon. It's been months, I'm glad that you've finally found that you can open up to-"

"I'm not trying to open up here, Doc. I'm looking for some magical solution you can provide me with so I can fucking sleep for more than an hour and a half at a clip."

Deaton sighs. "Anything that I might be able to come up with will only be temporary solution, Stiles. You have to face this, talk to someone. No one can truly understand what you're feeling but you have people in your life who are here for you. Actually," Deaton pauses a moment, considering his thought before continuing. "Yes, that could work. There may be someone you might consider opening up to; someone who also feels an incredible weight of guilt on their shoulders that doesn't necessarily belong there."

Stiles scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yeah, who might that be?"

"Derek." The vet tells him simply. Stiles stares at the man across from him, mouth open in disbelief. "He blames himself for the death of his family, even Laura I would guess. That guilt is not his to carry."

"But Derek didn't-"

"And neither did you, Stiles. You see where I'm going with this?" Stiles looks away, his expression closed off. "Please, think about it Stiles. In the meantime, I'll gather a few things for you but I'll need a day or two and I can't promise that the remedy will even help if the night terrors are as bad as you're implying. It'll be a natural supplement that should help close off your unconscious mind from the dark thoughts and memories." Stiles nods and leaves without another word.

He drives to the grocery store with a frown on his face; his and Derek's situations are vastly different. Derek was taken advantage of at a young age by someone he was, at the time, in love with while Stiles had his body and mind processed and made to do unforgiveable things. He'd killed innocent people for his own self gain, just to exist and thrive in a world of chaos and fear; he was forced to take the backseat in his own mind while everything around him was destroyed, helpless to stop it.

He thought about this as he walked through the store, grumbling and mumbling to himself as he browses the aisles.

"Talk to Derek?" He says to himself, putting vegetables for a salad into his basket. "How is talking to Derek going to help me? How do you even talk to Derek? Would Derek even talk back?" He asks out loud, oblivious to anyone around him. "Would Derek talk to me or let me talk?"

"Stiles?" Someone says from behind him, grabbing his attention.

Stiles whirls around, his mouth dropping open. "Derek!" He says almost too loudly. "Hey! Hi, uhm, what's going on? How's it going?" Derek raises an eyebrow, smirking at Stiles as he stammers. "Okay, cut me some slack and just tell me how long you've been in ear shot."

Derek shrugs, reaching around Stiles to grab a couple cucumbers. "Not long. Heard you muttering to yourself from across the store, found you here saying my name. A lot." Stiles smacks his hand to his forehead with a groan. "Why were you talking to yourself about me?"

Stiles shakes his head, walking with Derek through the produce section toward the meat department. "No reason, really. Just something stupid, its nothing." Stiles tells him. He catches sight of the girl he'd bumped into before running into Derek; dark wavy hair, bright eyed, big smile. Full of life. He feels a tremor in his hands and balls them into fist in an attempt to still them.

Derek stops, turning to look at Stiles with a serious face, his eyes sweeping over him as if assessing him for injury. "Are you sure?"

Stiles nods, his throat feeling dry like it's closing up. "Of course." He forces out. "Nothing, no big deal. I've got it handled. I'm the one that always figures everything out, right?" Stiles' breathing begins to pick up, a prickling heat raising up to his cheeks.

"Stiles?" Derek steps forward, eyes darting over the boy's face in concern. "Hey." He drops his own basket, reaching out to grab Stiles' arm to steady him as he begins to sway. "Stiles."

"D-Derek." Stiles stutters, the basket handle slipping from his grasp. "I can't…I…" His eyes begin to sting, tears welling up with his rising heartbeat. He stumbles back, his eyes searching everywhere for the exit. Derek's right there to catch him as his knees begin to shake. "Derek," He gasps, clutching at the arm of the man's jacket. "Derek, I can't breathe." Stiles forces the words out, his body starting to collapse.

"Stiles!" Derek held on to him, looking for the exit, pulling Stiles toward it with his arm around his waist. "Come on, I'll get you outside. You're okay, Stiles. I've got you."

Derek half drags Stiles out of the store, getting him around the corner of the building out of the sight of any onlookers. He eases him to the ground, keeping a firm grip on his shoulders. "Stiles, you have to breathe! Come on. Close your eyes and concentrate on breathing, please." Derek tries to coach Stiles but it was no use, he was sure to hyperventilate, Derek could hear the strain it was causing his lungs as he began wheezing. "Stiles! Come on! Please! I can't do this for you, you've got to help me out here."

"I…I…c-can't…h-help." Stiles' voice was barely a whisper.

"I…Stiles, I'm trying. I don't know how..." Derek watched Stiles, feeling petrified that the boy would die in front of him. "Shit." He stands up, shedding himself of his jacket before looking around to see if anyone is watch watching. He rolls his shoulders and closes his eyes, grunting as the familiar pain of bones realigning themselves moves throughout his body. In seconds, Derek is standing on four legs in a pile of clothes he'd likely leave behind. He wastes no time pressing into Stiles' side, whimpering to the boy as he tucks his nose in the crock of his neck. Stiles leans into the touch, gasping a second later as he gains some control over his lungs. Derek pushes in closer, half in Stiles' lap with his head on his shoulder, whimpering again. Stiles inhales sharply, his arms coming around the black wolf in his lap. He takes a shaky breath again, squeezing Derek. The wolf nuzzles against his neck, pulling Stiles in with the force of his head. Another breath, steadier this time. Stiles' hands are balled up, fisted in Derek's thick black coat, letting out uneven breathes until he's breathing more easily. Derek huffs in relief, easing back as Stiles' hold loosens.

Stiles sniffs, wiping his face. Derek whines, pressing his cold nose to the side of his face. Stiles laughs weakly, patting the wolf's side. "I'm okay. Now." He says, his voice raspy. "Thanks. You're like a therapy dog." Derek groans, starting to move away but stopping when Stiles' hand touches his side. "Seriously Derek. I know…just…Thank you."

Derek stares at him for a moment before leaning forward to bump his head to Stiles' forehead. Stiles smiles, scratching behind his ear before getting to his feet, leaning against the wolf for support while his legs still feel weak. Derek leans back against him, a solid form to keep him standing upright until he's ready to move forward.

Stiles smiles down at him. "Thanks again, man." He looks around, finding Derek's leather jacket on the ground next to his discarded clothes. He picks up the gray Henley, ripped and stretched out. "Sorry dude, but your shirt's a goner. Hm." Stiles picks up his jeans, finding them in similar shape as the shirt. "Pants too." Derek walks up to his jacket, nudging it with his nose. Stiles bends down to pick it up. "Looks like we know where your priorities are, huh? Keep the jacket safe, Stiles can suffer another minute." Derek lets out a low growl. "Kidding. You know you can't just wear this dude. Sort of need pants. I mean, that's sort of kinky and its cool if you're into that but it's kind of frowned upon to walk around dangling everywhere, you know? There are kids in this town, Derek." Derek groans, trotting away. "Hey, don't get so offended."

Stiles follows Derek back through the parking lot, seeing him approach his Jeep. "Um," Stiles starts, looking at his still trembling hands. "Hey, Der." The wolf sits next to the Jeep, looking at Stiles who holds out his shaking hands to him. "I'm not supposed to drive so soon after…a, uhm…after a…panic attack. That's, that's what that was." Stiles tells him, looking away and letting his hands fall to his sides. Derek stretched his neck out, touching his nose to Stiles' hand. The boy runs a hand over Derek's head, carding his fingers through his fur; the motion soothes the after effect of the panic attack, settling him a little more. "You're really awesome as a wolf, you know?" Derek huffs, Stiles taking that as his way of rolling his eyes. "Uh…Think you'd want to walk home with me? You don't have to, it's okay…but-"

Derek gets up and starts walking off to the edge of the lot, toward the direction of Stiles' house. He pauses at the sidewalk, looking back as Stiles, his eyes flashing blue and making a noise close to a bark. Stiles smirks and rolls his eyes, jogging up to him. "Thanks…again."

Stiles stays quiet for a little while as they walk, the sounds of crickets and Derek's quiet panting filling the silence. He has his hands in his pocket and the leather jacket draped through one of his arms, strain the muscles from the consistent extra weight. A chilly breeze sweeps through the air and Stiles finds himself tugging on the jacket to fight off the cool night air. Derek looks over at him curiously.

"Yes, I'm wearing your jacket. My arm was getting tired and I'm cold." Derek lets out a soft groan, shaking his head. "Hey, I'm not the one cover in a thick coat of warm fur here."

Stiles sees his dad's cruiser in the driveway as they approach the house. "Shit, I thought he'd still be at work. Okay, um, just run up to my room and I'll run interference or something, okay? He's probably on the couch asleep or in his office. Just try to be quiet, I'm not sure how I'd explain a giant wolf coming into the house. The poor man's just getting his head wrapped around all of this."

Derek huffs, staying tight to Stiles' side as they enter the house, breaking off and quickly padding up the stairs as Stiles slips into the living room where he can hear his dad watching MASH reruns.

The older man turns his head, giving his son a tired smile. It's well past when he should have gone to bed after having just worked another double shift, especially since he was lucky enough to cut out early but lately he'd taken to waiting up for Stiles. An act that only served in feeding the boy's guilt.

"Hey son." He greets.

Stiles gives him a smile, nodding his head. "Hey, pops. Surprised to see you still up."

Noah laughs lightly. "No, you're not."

"Dad, you don't have to wait up for me, I'm fine. I swear."

Noah glances at his son, looking down to his empty hands with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah? Where are the groceries you were picking up?" He asks gently. "You texted me three hours ago, said you were picking up a few things."

Three hours?! Stiles thinks, he hadn't realized how long it'd been. He was only at the vets for 15 minutes; the grocery run was supposed to be quick. 30 minutes tops; in and out and home. But there was that kid running around with a fake samurai sword then those twins looking at some toy. And there was that girl with the long brown hair that brushed against him, smiling sweetly and apologizing softly. She looked so much like Allison. He tried to distract himself, complaining out loud and mumbling to himself. Before he knew it, Derek was there hauling him outside. It didn't feel that long. But he does tend to lose track when it gets bad like that.

Stiles shifts his weight back and forth between his feet. "I…didn't realize how long it'd been." He tells his father slowly.

Noah turns in his seat, his eyes softening into a sad expression. "Stiles, you can talk to me you know. I'm here."

"I know." He mumbles.

"I hate seeing you like this kid." Stiles only shrugs, his gaze falling to the floor. "Have you talked to Scott?"

"Sure."

"No, I mean really talked to him. He's your best friend, you've always been able to go to him about anything."

"Dad, I-"

"You need to let us in kid. Please."

Stiles shakes his head. "I…I can't. Not yet."

"Stiles-" Noah starts, sounding like he's at a loss for his son and his well-being.

"But I will. I think. But…" Stiles shakes his head again. "It's too…I just can't right now." He can feel his head rate speeding up. He tries to take slow, calming breathes, hoping his dad can't see he's on the edge of his second attack of the night, which is actually progress.

Small victories.

Stiles is lucky tonight though, since his dad takes no notice of the growing tension in his shoulders. The bright side of the double shifts, Stiles can squeak by on things like this. The man just nods slowly, rubbing at his tired eyes with a sigh. "Okay. Alright, but when you're ready I'm here. I'm always here for you."

"I know. I'm, uhm, I'm going to head to bed. G'night."

"Night, son."

Stiles heads up to his room as quickly as he can without looking like he's bolting. He gets into his room and practically slams the door shut, sliding to the floor with his face buried in his hands. He squeezes his eyes shut, taking short shaky breaths.

"Not again, not again. Fuck!" Stiles bangs his head back against his door with a frustrated growl. The press of a cold nose against his cheek accompanied by a soft whine startles Stiles. "Derek." He chokes out, vision blurring with tears for a second time. "It's h-happening again."

Derek moves in closer, pressing his head into Stiles' shoulder with a soft whine. Stiles wraps his arms around the wolfs form, clutching him tightly. He drapes his head over his shoulder, providing comfort back as best he can with his version of a hug.

The panic attack dissipates much quicker than the one at the store, soon Stiles is sitting back with his legs stretched out in front of him; Derek's lying beside him with his head on his knee as he cards his fingers through his fur in lazy, soothing strokes.

"Thanks." Stiles says quietly, exhaustion laced in his tone. "Again." He sighs, looking down at Derek's wolf form. "I think I need to talk to someone." He says reluctantly, seeing how Deaton could have maybe been right; there was no way that keeping his emotions and fears in was healthy, all it had done so far was keep him awake and throw him into panic attacks. Derek lifts his head to look at Stiles. "Dad worries too much and is spreading himself so thin with work right now. Scott lost Allison, he's still dealing with that." Stiles' hand tightened in the black fur beneath his hand. "Lydia lost her best friend. How am I supposed to dump my shit on them? Like they don't have their own things to work through."

Derek huffs, tilting his head. "What? Talk to you? You've got your own shit too, Derek. I know you do. I…I can't lay this on you. Beside, are where even at that open 'sharing is caring' stage in our friendship?" The wolf sits up with a low groan. "Look, whatever…whatever this is, I don't know what to call it other than therapy dog training or something. It was a fluke, probably. And either way, I'm just not…ugh, no! I'm not doing this!" Stiles lifts himself from the ground, going to his dresser and pulling out a pair of sweats and an oversized sweatshirt, tossing them on the bed as he grabs clothes for himself. "Those should fit if you want to shift back. I'd say you can stay, but you. Dad. Wolf. Not a conversation I want to get into, plus I'm sure you have better things to do than babysit me." He adds with more bitterness in his tone than he'd intended. "I'll just go to the bathroom, be back in a minute."

Stiles grabs a pair of plaid sleep pants and heads out the door to the bathroom to ready himself for bed. Derek tracks his movements with sagging ears and sad eyes. While the boy is down the hall, the wolf groans and whimpers softly as his bones and muscles reform themselves back to his two-legged form. Derek is standing in the middle of Stiles' room, pulling the sweatshirt on over his head as he reenters, closing the door softly behind him.

Stiles is adamite about keeping his eyes from Derek, embarrassment creeping into his gut at the reminder of taking so much comfort in Derek as a wolf. It was easy though, but now? Stiles is half mortified.

"I can bring you to your Jeep in the morning or when every you want to get it." Derek offers, hoping the disappoint of his impending departure isn't evident in the offer, picking his jacket from the bed where Stiles had tossed it before leaving the room. He nods in response, shuffling around Derek to get to his bed. "I'll go…I guess." He says reluctant to do so, knowing that Stiles needs…something. What? He's not entirely sure, but something about leaving him right not just feels wrong. He should stay. He wants to stay. But Stiles, Stiles doesn't want him.

To stay.

"Night." Stiles climbs into bed grabbing a book from his nightstand.

"I…" Stiles glances at Derek for a second, giving him a questioning look. "I can…stay." He says slowly. "If you want." He looks away, casting his gaze towards the foot of the bed. He sounds like a fool. Desperate even, he knows this. But…it's Stiles. And Stiles had become more than that annoy spaz to him a long time ago. Now he was…everything.

But Derek is still…nothing.

Stiles blinks up at him, mouth hanging open slightly in surprise. "Y-you don't…it's fine, I'm okay. You don't have to."

"Stiles."

"What?"

"Take a breath. Don't tell me you're fine, you can be honest with me." Derek knew was it was like to have such soul crushing guilt looming over you day after day and the way you feel like you're about to snap the next time someone tells you 'it's not your fault'. He knew, he pushed everyone away, shut everyone out. Laura tried to help, but he ran; he was a coward.

Stiles wasn't a coward though. He didn't back off Derek, he forced himself into his life in a way that made it evident that there was no pushing him away. Attaching himself to every aspect until one day, Derek could look at the milk in the fridge and not think of Stiles. Stiles isn't a coward, he won't keep running.

"Do you want me to stay?" Laura has asked him the same question once, before leaving for Beacon Hills. No one knows that though. Derek wanted her to stay, wanted to tell her yes. He didn't want to be alone, but he didn't have the strength to say the words. To ask for help, for comfort. He didn't think he deserved it; part of him still doesn't.

He's working on that.

But Stiles does. Stiles deserves everything. Whatever he wants out of life he deserves it. What happened to him...that wasn't a choice. He wasn't naïve enough to let himself be lured in by some beautiful face. Wasn't stupid enough to shut his sister out and let her walk out the door.

He wished he asked her to stay.

"I…n-…I'm fine." He tells him. "I'm fine." He repeats. But, Derek realizes, that's not a no.

He says he's fine but Derek can hear what he means. He's said that too. He told Laura that he was fine when he meant 'I'm suffocating'. Told her she should go when he wanted to say 'I can't do this alone'. He knew the real meaning behind 'I'm fine'.

"Stiles." Derek crouches down, elbows leaning on the bed. "Do you want me to stay?"

Stiles closes his eyes, laying his head back with a long-frustrated sigh. "I don't want to be alone." He whispers. "But you really don't have to stay, you've done so much already. Really. I'm…I'll be fine. So-"

"Stiles, straight answers. Yes. Or no." Derek is firm with his words but his tone is gentle.

If he says no, that's fine. This isn't about what Derek needs or wants, which is to crawl up beside the boy and hold him tight against his chest and keep all the nightmares that threaten him away. To have his own pain soothed by the steady beating of another heart pressed against his chest.

But it's not about him though. It's about Stiles.

So, if he really wants him to leave, he will. He can drag himself out the window and lurk in the shadows like he's been doing for the last…well, he doesn't want to admit how long he's been doing that. It's embarrassing. If he were a normal functioning person he would have already brought this…development to Stiles' attention. But, Derek's got a self-destructive 'I don't deserve the things I want' streak.

He's working on that too.

Really…he is.

When Stiles meets his eyes, pausing briefly before he nods, Derek is relieved. "Okay." He tells him, reaching across him to grab a pillow off the bed. He turns around, laying back on the floor with the pillow under his head and closing his eyes; it doesn't escape him how he feels a contentment wash over him at the scent of Stiles filling his nose. "You better not talk in your sleep." He mutters.

Stiles lets a smile creep across his face, glancing down at Derek for a moment, warmth spreading through his body. "I probably do." He says with a shrug.

Its dark, cold. Hard to breath. He can't see anything.

There's something in the distance, but somehow it feels like it's right there. Stiles can almost taste the fear and panic; a stale rotten taste that burns the back of his throat. His hands feel tacky, like they're coated with something thick.

The smell of copper surrounds him.

Blood. He realizes. It's blood.

The darkness fades away at the realization and he can see finally. But he wishes he couldn't; never has he longed to be consumed by darkness more than he does right now.

His hands are covered in thick, red blood; a mass of bodies pooled around him.

"No." He gasps, choking back a sob.

Something coughs in front of him. He looks down to find he's kneeling with a mop of dark brown curls in his lap. His eyes go wide and he shaking his head, looking everywhere to see where the bleeding is coming from and how he can stop it.

"S-Stiles." A voice croaks weakly.

"No. No, no, no, no, no!" Stiles panics.

Allison's brown eyes gaze up at him, blood dripping from her mouth. Her hand clutching at her stomach as an open wound gushes with the slow beating of her heart. Stiles pales farther seeing, in his own hand, a long sword. He throws it angerly to the side.

"Allison! Allison! No! I'm so sorry, I-I didn't…this wasn't supposed to happen! Help!" He yells desperately. "Someone please, help!" He choked on his own sobs as Allison's life fades before him. "I should have stopped it! What couldn't I stop it!? I'm so sorry."

"It's okay." Stiles' eyes snap open and he jerks back at the sudden voice change.

"No." He whispers. "Derek? How? No! This isn't what happened!" Derek smiles weakly up at him, bringing a shaking hand to his cheek. "Shouldn't you be healing?! Why aren't you healing!?" Stiles demands in a panic, clutching at Derek's tattered and bloody shirt.

"Stiles, it's okay. I promise, this is okay. You'll be okay. Just tell me you'll be okay." Stiles shakes his head, tears rolling down his face. "Please, Stiles. Promise me."

Somehow, this hurts so much more than anything else he's ever felt; it's like he's being ripped in half. "I won't. You can't. I can't lose you too. Derek…please." It physically hurts to see Derek like this, to feel the strength he's using just to keep his hand on Stiles' cheek. "Derek." He pleads quietly. "Don't leave me, you said you'd stay. Please stay."

"I'm sorry Stiles." Derek's hand slips from Stiles' face. "I lo-" Derek's head rolls to the side, his eyes glazing over.

"Derek? No. No! Derek!? No!" Stiles clutches at the man lying dead in his lap, burring his face in his chest as he openly sobs. "Derek, please! You said you'd stay! You said you'd stay."

"You've done it again, Stiles. Haven't you?" A familiar voice taunts him.

Stiles jerks his head up glaring in the direction of the voice, his heart jumping into his throat when his eyes land on him. A man wearing a worn, leather bomber jacket with his face wrapped and covered with gauze.

"I didn't-" Stiles chokes on a breath. "No." He looks around, looking at his right hand as he shakes. Six. There are six fingers there, on one hand. "This isn't real. This didn't happen." Despite this, Stiles hugs Derek's body closer to him. Because it still feels real enough.

"But Allison's death was." Stiles whips his head to his left to see Scott standing there with glowing eyes. "That wasn't a dream, Stiles. That really happened."

"I know." He responds brokenly. "I know, I'm sorry!"

"You killed her." Lydia steps from behind Scott. "You gave into that thing, Stiles. You let him in! And Allison is dead. Looks like you've killed Derek now too."

"I…I…no…I didn't…I didn't mean to…I don't know what happened."

"Misery follows you, Stiles. You made everything so easy." Void drawls, moving like early morning fog across a field as he comes closer. "Death follows you, you are cursed by it. Even your own mother is dead. You can't stop this." Void kneels in front of Stiles, a sickening grin on his bandaged face. Stiles pulls Derek's body closer to him, pulling him away from that thing. "He'll die, Stiles. You won't be able to stop it. You'll look down and he'll be gone. This man you love." Stiles stares into unseen eyes in shock. "Yes," He laughs coldly. "I know about your crush. He'll die before you tell him. He'll die never knowing someone loves him."

Fresh tears trail down Stiles' face, he looks back to find Derek's body has vanished. His heart sinks, his chest filling with panic as he looks all around him searching for Derek. Void laughs, a sickly wet sound, as he reached out for Stiles. And he just feels numb; no fear. No anything

A black mass flashes in the corner of Stiles' eye, jumping at Void and pinning him to the ground with a monstrous snarl. The wolf glances quickly at Stiles, a brief assessment to ensure he's been left unharmed. It turns its attention back to the demon beneath its paws and snaps at it with razor sharp teeth.

"How!" Void hisses in disbelief.

Stiles' mouth slowly curls up. "He said he'd stay." He said simply. "Derek's never lied to me before."

The wolf almost grins down at its pray before launching forward at its neck, ripping the demons throat out.

With his teeth.

Stiles wakes with a start, his breathing heavy but not erratic. His heart beating fast but not pounding through his chest. And there's sun light coming in through his window. He closes his eyes, wiping a hand across his face.

He moved to push himself up to find he's suddenly either become very heavy or lost all his upper body strength. He opens his eyes, looking down to see a mass of black fur laying across his stomach.

Derek. Black fur, long nose, Derek. Draped over his chest, paws crossed with his snout pressed against them.

Stiles smiles down at the sleeping wolf, looking more than content. Unable to stop himself, he reaches down petting Derek in a long stroke from his head all the way down his back. Derek peaks at him with one open eye making Stiles roll his brown pair.

"You were already awake before I even opened my eyes, weren't you?" Derek lift his head, stretching with a groaning yawn. "Oof, god you're heavy." Stiles weakly shoves at Derek, who groans and stretched again in response, turning onto his side to almost cover the boy's body. Stiles laughs, turning his head to avoid a mouth full of fur. "Stop it, you're crushing me!" Derek groans again, rolling onto his back and wiggling back and forth while kicking his legs in the air. "Obnoxious wolf! God! Who knew wolfy Derek is like a playful puppy in the early hours." Derek thrashes around some more before rolling back to his stomach to lay against Stiles' side, looking very pleased with himself.

Stiles smiles at him, shaking his head. "Okay, mission accomplished. I feel better. Happy?" Derek's tail thumps a couple time against the bed, his tongue hanging from his open mouth. "Yeah," Stiles scoffs. "You look very pleased with yourself." He reaches out, ruffling the fur on Derek's head. "Thanks again, for everything. I can't remember the last time I slept through the night. I…I started to have a nightmare I think." Derek closes his mouth, staring at Stiles intently as he listens. "I remember the usual, you know? Blood, panic, death everywhere. Allison. That thing." Stiles keeps on petting Derek as he speaks, pushing himself forward and letting someone in. Letting Derek in. "Scott and Lydia are always there too, blaming me." Derek whimpers, resting his head on Stiles' thigh. "I know they don't actually blame me, no one does; except me. Anyway, in the dreams it's not the Oni who kill her…it's me with the sword. But at some point, it wasn't Allison in my lap."

Stiles forces his eyes to meet Derek's. "It was you. You were there, dying and I didn't know what happened but I knew it was all my fault." Derek whines at Stiles' rising distress, inching closer so his nose almost touches his chest. "It…Derek it hurt. Like it was physically painful, you dying. I know I shouldn't be telling you this when you can't properly respond. I don't know what that even means." He tells the wolf with a shake of his head, his hand pressed into the wolfs side. "Then you were gone, and all I could think was that you said you would stay. I…I just wanted you to stay. The thing…it was reaching for me and I was going to let it take me. I knew I was. You disappeared and he was going to take me and I just didn't care; I couldn't care. But then," Stiles smiles softly, Derek raised his head cocking it to the side. "You came back. Like this and you attacked it. Guess what you did?" Stiles asks, hardly able to hide his grin. "You literally ripped its throat out with your teeth."

He laughs when Derek's tail thumps enthusiastically and he makes a quite 'woof' sound. "It was sort of awesome. And I think…I think you probably climbed up here somewhere just before that, probably at the peak of the worst of it. It was like my subconscious knew that out here, someone was trying to help me, so it gave me the help in the dream too." Stiles is quiet for a moment, playing with the fur between Derek's paws. "I don't know why, but you help." Stiles shrugs, pulling his hand away, feeling self-conscious now. "Sorry, that was…" Derek nudges his nose under Stiles' hand, getting his to pet him again.

"You're really okay with this, aren't you?" Derek leans into Stiles' touch. "Cool, I feel less embarrassed now." Derek emits a soft growl, Stiles smirks down at him. "Sorry for feeling self-conscious about all this. You're a wolf, laying in my bed, wanting and liking me scratching behind your ear. And you're still…Derek. So…it's weird, right? Like it should be weird."

Derek slinks off the bed, reaching to grab the discarded, borrowed, clothes in his mouth. He nudges the door open with his nose, peering out into the hall for a moment before disappearing. A couple minutes later, Derek returns to the room on two legs. He sits himself on the edge of the bed, folding one leg under himself to face Stiles.

Stiles feels color raising in his cheeks, staring at the man who was just a wolf. He's pulled back into the dream for a moment, to what Void hissed to him.

"This man you love…He'll die before you tell him."

Stiles closes his eyes, rubbing them with the heel of his hand.

"Stiles?"

"He'll die never knowing someone loves him."

Stiles jerks back at the feeling of a pair of hands grasping his shoulders. His eyes pop open and land on the concerned look stretched across Derek's face. He rubs a gentle hand up and down the boys arm, trying to calm him.

"You're okay, Stiles. You're here, you're with me." His tone is soothing and gentle, relaxing Stiles as he blows out a long breath, pushing his hands through his hair. "Come back to me Stiles." Derek whispers.

Stiles nods slowly. "Yeah, I'm here. Sorry, just…still that dream, seeing you… like that and then in front of me now…sorry."

"Stop apologizing for things you can't control, Stiles." The boy nods, trying to give Derek a weak smile, still unable to meet his gaze directly. "You know," Derek starts, pulling away from Stiles slowly. "I don't understand why you think me on all fours covered in fur is easier to deal with than me like this; either way it's still me."

Stiles shrugs. "Maybe I forget for a minute, maybe because you can't respond verbally? I don't know, it's just…easier somehow."

"You know what I think?" Stiles shakes his head. "I think you still have it in your head that you're not pack, that you're not family. This is what we do, Stiles; what pack and family does. We're there for each other, no judgements. So, to answer your question from before; no, it's not weird. Not for me. The wolf or the human. Whatever form, it's not weird."

Derek pick himself up from the bed, walking to the window. He looks back to Stiles before opening the window. "Call me is you need anything."

"You're not going to tell me to open up and let someone in, are you? That I need to talk to someone?"

Derek shakes his head. "You already know you do, and I know it's not as simple as your dad is making it out to be. You'll do it if and when you're ready. You opened up about that dream with me." Derek shrugs. "I'd say that's something. So, just…call."

"If I need anything?" Stiles teases with a sly smile.

Derek smirks back at him. "If you need anything." He slides the window open, climbing out onto the roof, turning back to Stiles. "Even if you just need your therapy dog."

Derek smiles to himself as he leaps off the roof, rolling to the ground; Stiles' soft chuckle ringing in his ears.