There's a twist in this chapter, that will reveal the main reason behind what Stiles does.

Warning: Self-harm and mentions of sexual assault.

He looks up and meets Derek's eyes before pushing past him into his bedroom to start putting some clothes on. He's already yanking on a long-sleeved top before Derek has shut the door to his room and has taken a seat in Stiles' desk chair.

Five minutes pass before anyone says anything, Stiles is now fully dressed and sat on his bed, looking anywhere but at Derek, who has his eyebrows scrunched together as if he's deep in thought. Of course Stiles is the one to break the silence.

"Can I help you at all sourwolf?" The glare Derek levels him with would probably make a child cry.

Derek breathes in deep through his nose before glancing at Stiles' hidden wrists. "Stiles, why can I smell blood?" His voice laced with curiosity and what could possibly pass as worry. No, that's wrong, he thought, Derek Hale doesn't worry about anyone especially not Stiles.

"Look Derek, it's nothing okay? I'm fine... I'm fucking fantastic" He feels more than he sees Derek's movement, the dip in the mattress next to him only solidifies his thoughts. He can feel the way Derek's eyes are boring into his skull, practically begging him to lift his own eyes from where they're fixed on the floor. "You know you can trust me Stiles, you're pack, my pack. We're worried about you"

It's strange, to hear Derek sound like he cares. It's strange to think that he's actually pack, being a puny human and all. "Derek..." It comes out as a whisper, but Derek's there, hand on top of his own. Comforting Stiles, reassuring him.

"Stiles, it's okay. I just want to know what's wrong, why you aren't being your usually increasingly irritating self."

"It's not okay, Derek. How can anything be okay after what's happened? It's not okay, but I'm fine."

He knows Derek can hear the lie, but it isn't like he can just come out and say the truth. He'd probably think Stiles was doing it for attention or lying about what had happened. Stiles knows that his reasons for what he does are lies he made up so he wouldn't have to think about that night. He feels like a shell, he feels numb and he feels like a disappointment for so many reasons, but mainly, he feels like that because they took everything from him, they made him a shell. They made him this and the cutting helps him forget that it's all their fault.

"I know it's not okay, I know that. But I can't know what's wrong if you don't tell me. When the pack got to you, you said they didn't do anything. But you said you were fine then as well." That's when it clicked in Stiles' mind. That had been months ago, but even then Derek knew he had lied about what the Alpha's had done to him in the forest. Derek had known he wasn't okay. But if he had known why didn't he say anything? Why?

"If you knew I was lying back then, why didn't you say anything?"

"Stiles, I didn't say anything because you reeked of fear and pain, I wasn't going to confront you about it when we were clearly so close to a panic attack. I didn't want to make it worse for you."

"Worse for me?!" Now Stiles was mad, his skin was flushed red and his breathing was beginning to pick up, "You calling me out on a lie would not have made it worse Derek. Sitting there for weeks thinking about how dirty I was, how tainted I was, made it worse. Being scared that they would come back and sitting there alone having the images of them forcing..." He couldn't carry on, he couldn't get the words out. Tears began to slide down his cheeks, hands shaking.

"What are you... dirty? Tainted? What Stiles? What did they do?" Derek's voice quieting at the end, almost back at a whisper.

"No Derek. No. Why are you pretending to care? That was months ago, months. I've dealt with the consequences of what happened on that night every night since then. I can deal with it for every night to come."

"I'm not pretending Stiles, you should know that by now. You don't have to cope on your own, tell me what happened and I can help, the pack can help."

The pair were close now, thighs touching, Derek's hand still resting on top of his own. All attention was away from the smell of blood from earlier and was focused on the one night that made Stiles feel worthless and helpless.

"They..." That's as much as he can get out before he has to take in a deep breath and calm himself down again, running a finger over the scabbed marks lying an inch or two up from where Derek's hand rest on his. "They ganged up on me, cornered me, I...I had nowhere to go, they just...they forced me down and..." He takes in another deep breath and feels again for the marks to keep him grounded. "They just let the man...they just let him...it hurt so much Derek." There aren't any tears but Stiles is taking in large gulps of air, waiting for Derek to say something, anything at all. But he doesn't, he just tightens his grip on Stiles' hand. As the grip tightens, Stiles meets Derek's eyes as he sees him putting the pieces of what happened together.

After a few minutes Derek is still sat next to him, looking at him, searching. Stiles is still silent, running his fingers over his wrist. A broken nail catches a scab under the fabric. A tiny amount of blood starts to gather on the wounds surface, only little amounts but the way it makes him freeze up and panic is enough to alert Derek's senses. His eyes flick from Stiles' face down to his wrists, his hands instantly reaching out to grab it. Stiles moves reacts fast enough though and is across the room in seconds.

"No." Is all he says. Once again Derek's eyes find his as he slowly creeps towards him. His lips drawn into a tight line and concern shining through his eyes.

"Stiles..." It's no more than a whisper really, but to Stiles it's as loud as a scream.

"No Derek, I don't want your pity or concern. I'm fine..." A pause, a deep intake of breath, "Everything is fine, I'm dealing with everything. I'm dealing." But with that his voice cracks and tears make their way down his face for a second time that night.

Derek approaches him slowly, hands coming to the bottom of the tops sleeves. Stiles, can feel the fabric being pulled up his arms gently, only slightly scraping the scabbed wounds.

"Stiles..." It's all Derek says before bringing Stiles closer to him.

As soon as Derek brings him into his arms, the tears turn into sobs. His hands coming up to Derek's chest and grabbing tightly at his t-shirt, clutching, seeking an anchor, an anchor better than the scars on his arms. His head buried in Derek's neck, breath warming the skin there.

Stiles knows the scars and marks have distracted Derek from what he'd said about the alpha pack, but he also saw the hatred burning in Derek's eyes as soon as he had put the details together.

The next chapter will be up soon and will be mainly what happened "that night" and Derek's reaction to what he's found out.