As Stiles woke up the next morning he felt the heat of Derek's skin brushing against his own under the covers of the bed and heard his slow and steady breathing. He turned his head to look at him and was overwhelmed by the peaceful look on the older man's face.

Stiles pulled his hand out from under the blanket and reached over to touch Derek's stubble-covered cheek but let his fingers hover inches over his skin, unsure whether he could risk it to wake Derek up by that or not.

But at last his urge to touch Derek took over and he placed his palm on the other man's cheek. Stiles held his breath as he played through the scenario in his head that Derek would rip out his throat, with which he had threatened him so often, but nothing happened. On the contrary Derek seemed to press his head into Stiles' hand.

'Is he awake?' Stiles asked himself but Derek's eyes remained shut and his breathing calm. He breathed out relieved and took a closer look at Derek.

They have had a long talk yesterday evening about what Derek had found out in Chicago and how they had arrived just in time to save him from the Siren… Calista. Thinking about it now, Stiles realized why she had such a power over him: he had been alone. He had been near his breaking point and she had sensed it. He was the weakest of them all and that's why she had chosen him as her victim. She must have known how he had lost contact with Scott and how he had no one else that he was this close to. As Derek was gone, he felt utterly unprotected and his thoughts became more and more terrible. He had blamed himself for the things that had happened, that Boyd and Erica died, that Jennifer had taken his dad, Scott's mom and Allison's dad and how Derek had to leave with Cora.

"What are you brooding about?"

The sleepy voice of Derek trailed over to Stiles, cut through his thoughts and made him focus on the older man again, lying next to him, bare-chested and tousled-haired.

"I started to get bad," Stiles confessed, taking his hand off of Derek's cheek. "Before you came back," he added, alarmed by the worried look in Derek's eyes.

"Why that?" Derek asked concerned, studying the features of the boy's face.

"You were gone and I felt like I had no protection left because Scott and Isaac had to do with Allison, and I still don't trust Ethan and Aiden. So it was just me and my dad left. But I couldn't confide in him, I didn't want him to worry about me more than he already did."
"You could have called," Derek said after a short pause.

"You could have called," Stiles said louder than necessary with a trace of anger in his voice and tears in his eyes. "I thought you would call but nothing ever happened. Surely you were too busy with Emily and the others." As he spoke the last word, Stiles instantly regretted that he did so. He could see the pain in Derek's eyes, the pain that he had caused.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Stiles said rapidly as he covered his face under the blanket and turned away from Derek.

He tried to fight Derek's arms away as they gripped him firmly around the chest, pulling them closer together, but Derek was too strong and the sobs Stiles tried to suppress were no help either.

"I should have called," Derek whispered softly as soon as he noticed that the boy's heartbeat slowed down, and loosened the embrace. He felt Stiles' chest rising and sinking as he tried to breathe calmly and sensed the relief pouring from the teen.

"Better?" Derek asked, not taking his arms off from around Stiles.

"Yes… thanks."


Later that day, Derek called Scott and Isaac to meet him at the loft. As the two friends arrived, Stiles made no effort to leave the bed, only sat down upon the covers instead of lying underneath them, because he thought that as soon as Scott would see him, he would know what was going on and would tell Isaac in an instant, in case he did not notice what was going on between Derek and him.

"Sit down," Derek said in his usual commanding voice when they arrive before either of them could say a word, and so the boys did. "Yesterday we fought a Siren. She was the first supernatural creature that was lured to Beacon Hills because of your Sacrifice Ceremony. If we can trust the experiences of Emily's pack – and I think we can – there are two more creatures that will most likely be turning up: Berserkers and Hellhounds."

Scott and Isaac eyed Derek with a puzzled look; obviously they never heard of either. But Stiles had: Derek had told him yesterday, explaining how they could recognize each of them. But Stiles did not speak up.

"Berserkers are male and seem to be fighting in a fury. They don't notice when they are hurt and don't care. They have superhuman strengths and often travel in packs of two or three, even though they are very selfish and don't turn to help their fellows if they're injured. The most vicious thing is that they do not care about who they kill.

Hellhounds, on the other hand, come on their own, even fight if they meet another hellhound. They appear in the form of a dog, their eyes glow red in the moonlight, their teeth are sharp as razors and they are super-fast."

Scott and Isaac still looked puzzled.

"So, how are we going to fight them?" Scott asked.

"Together," Derek simply said. He looked at Stiles as he continued: "We need to work together before something terrible happens since Cora and I just came back in time before one of us died." At those words Isaac and Scott turned to Stiles who felt rather uncomfortable with all of their eyes focused on him. He shifted uneasily on the blankets and tried to avoid the gazes of the others by looking at his still torn up cuticle. There was silence and Stiles could almost sense how Derek, Scott and Isaac exchanged glances and searched for something to say.

"So… where's Cora?" Scott finally said, breaking the silence.

"She's out with Eric again."

"Aren't you worried that something'll happen to her?"

"I am," Derek said tonelessly and Stiles looked up at him and saw pain in his eyes; obviously he thought of the time when Cora almost died.

"I've got a good feeling about Eric," Isaac interjected, but hastily added "and… all of those others" as Derek shot him an angry look.

"Still such a Sourwolf," Stiles whispered to himself, grinning slightly, but he had forgotten that they could hear him loud and clearly since they were werewolves. They turned towards him, Scott with a grin, Isaac with a questioning look and Derek raising his eyebrows. As Stiles met Derek's eyes, his expression softened and the boy could have sworn that his eyes lit up.

Derek and him clearly looked at each other a second too long because out of the corner of his eye Stiles could see his best friend looking from him to Derek and back, eyes narrowed and mouth slightly open. Stiles broke away from Derek's gaze and turned to Scott with an uneasy expression. But instead of shouting, Scott laughed out loud.

"You finally figured it out," he managed to say between his laughs, holding his sides. Now it was Stiles turn to look puzzled as Isaac pulled out 20 bucks out of his pocket and handed them over to Scott.

"You bet on us?" Stiles said unbelieving and looked back at Derek after Scott nodded and bit down further laughs, but Derek simply shrugged his shoulders which relaxed Stiles. "For your information, we already figured it out more than a month ago."

"Doesn't matter," Scott said, grinning. "I won. Isaac said you wouldn't get together until our graduation and I bet against it. Thanks for the money, mate," he said as he turned to Isaac, who didn't say anything, just looked apologizing at Stiles.

"At least you spared me the inconvenience to tell you about us," Stiles said and he felt the happiness which he had lacked for such a long time coming back, rising up in his stomach and tickling in his throat. And then he laughed. He held his stomach and let himself fall back onto the bed. Scott and Isaac eyed their friend amused, and even Derek had to smile even though he tried to hide it, but the happiness on Stiles face made him feel light and relieved that his encounter with the Siren seemed to have left no serious damage.

At last the laughs of the boy faded away and he sat up again. Soon, Derek spoke up.

"Alright," he said to Isaac and Scott. "Please tell Allison, Lydia, Ethan and Aidan what I told you. Emily surely informed her pack and Cora already what will happen soon, but I'll check that. Stay safe, keep out an eye for anything unusual and tell me instantly if something happens. You understand me?" he asked as he looked sternly at Isaac and Scott, and both of them nodded. "Good."

Scott let air out through his lips and turned to first look at Isaac, then back at Derek and at last as Stiles, who didn't look at him but at Derek. Then, Scott turned his eyes back at Isaac.

"Dude... I think we're no longer needed," he said with a jerk of his head at Stiles and Isaac understood. "See you later," Scott said and winked at his best friend as he held the door open for Isaac and then closed it shut with a soft thud.


"I… I've never done this before."

Derek's eyes widened but he didn't lower his hand that he had stretched out, waiting for his fingers to entwine with Stiles'.

"It's okay," he said in a softer voice than Stiles had ever heard. "Come here."

The boy swallowed, for the first time afraid of what would await him if he stepped forward and laid his hand into Derek's. But the look in Derek's eyes convinced him that he did not need to worry.

So he stretched out his arm and placed his hand into the palm of Derek who closed his hand immediately around his. Then, Derek pulled him close and placed his lips onto Stiles'.

If Stiles wasn't sure he really wanted this before, he certainly was now. The pressure of Derek's lips upon his own and the taste of them made him forget every worry in the world. There was nothing else but them. Every time Derek's fingertips brushed his skin, a shiver ran down his spine and he wanted to get closer to him, explore more of his skin, tangle his fingers in his dark wiry hair and smell his scent.

They slowly glided towards the bed, fingertips discovering each other's skin through the fabric of their shirts, but soon Stiles couldn't resist it to pull up Dereks' shirt. The older man didn't hesitate and took it off himself. Instantly, Stiles felt like that girl from "Crazy, Stupid, Love", because, let's be honest, Derek looked like he was photo shopped. But Stiles couldn't help but realize that he couldn't keep up with those looks. He suddenly was ashamed that he had no muscles, even was ashamed of his moles.

"What is it?" Derek asked between their kisses, placing his hands onto the small of Stiles' back.

Stiles pondered. He wanted to tell it in a way that did not hurt Derek.

"I can't… how can you… I can't believe that you're interested in someone like me."

Derek increased his grip on the teen's lower back.

"Would you be here with me if it was otherwise?" Derek asked. "Please just shut up," he said as he did it himself and shut Stiles up with another kiss.


Derek and Stiles now laid on the bed that stood in the middle of Derek's loft, kissing more passionate than even before. As Stiles reached down for Derek's jeans, the older men stopped in his motion, stopped kissing Stiles.

"What are you doing?"

"Wha…?" Stiles asked, leaning back but not taking his hand from where it was.

"You're going down my pants." Derek gripped Stiles wrist, pulling the boy's hand from the waistband of his jeans.

"What the…?" Stiles cried out with an irritated expression.

"You're only 17 yet. We're not going to…" But Derek couldn't finish.

"For real? You tell me that now that we're finally alone together for the first time in months, we'll be doing nothing more than kissing? Come on!" the teen said angrily, pulling his arm out of the grip of Derek. The older men eyed him appraisingly.

"You thought we would have sex tonight?" Derek asked bluntly, making Stiles gasping for air.

"Well… maybe… but it was just a general thought… don't you think I planned to fuck you tonight!" Stiles said defending, but the look Derek gave him now made him stop in his ways. He couldn't tell what it said. Was he surprised? Doubting? Angry? …smiling?

The corners of Derek's mouth definitely had twitched. It reminded him of the time when he had stormed to Derek's loft before he had left, the moment before Derek had kissed him.

"You planned to fuck me?" Derek asked amused, causing Stiles to stutter an answer where you couldn't understand more than "What", "No", "I didn't" and something like "Can we please drop the subject".

"Can't you see why I really don't want to go this far?" Derek then quietly said, looking at Stiles with a serious expression.

And then Stiles knew. Jennifer. Kate. He had sex with them and they turned their backs on him afterwards and now he was too afraid that it would happen again. Stiles was tempted to say 'You can't really think that I am like them', but he thought better of it.

"I won't turn my back on you," Stiles confessed.

"That's what they said, too. How can I be sure you mean it?"

"You can't," the teen said as he cupped Derek's face with his hands. "You have to trust me," he whispered softly before he kissed him.

Shortly before they fell asleep, Derek turned around and put his arm around Stiles.

"I can't believe that I finally found a way to shut you up," Derek said and smiled – the first real smile Stiles had seen on him. Even though it was in the dead of the night and just the moon shone through the window, Stiles could see it clearly.

"You need to smile more often. It looks really good on you. I like that." So he kissed Derek, still feeling him smile on his lips. "Good night, Sourwolf," he said quietly and turned over, now smiling himself.


The next day, they started with burned toast and too strong coffee, but it was all good. The sun shined and Stiles did not need to worry about school, at least not today because his dad had excused him until today. He had said that he should take some days to come to terms with the happenings.

So they spent the day in Derek's loft. There was no TV, only Derek's – or better to say Peter's – laptop, so they decided to watch one movie after another, ordered two pizza's for lunch and virtually did nothing the whole day.

When it started to dawn, Stiles got up, explaining that he needed to go home.

"School's tomorrow, and there's something I still need to do today."

"Alright. Call me when you get home, okay?"

"Sure," Stiles said and hastily kissed Derek before he slipped through the door and drove home, leaving Derek with that small smile on his face that so often showed up these days.


There was a crack somewhere behind Stiles. He hastily turned around and peered through the darkness.

"Hello?" No answer. He turned back to look at the grave of his mother again. Crack. He looked around again as he started to feel anxious.

"Is anybody there?" Again no answer.

Stiles pulled out his mobile and rushed to call Derek as he searched for shelter behind the large trunk of a tree. One free sign, two, three.

"Hey Sti…"

"I think you need to get here, Derek," Stiles said with a frightened voice.

"Why? What is it? Where are you?"

"I'm at the graveyard, at my mom's grave. There were cracks and I don't know. Can you please come if there really is something?" He peered around the edge of the tree and let out a muffled cry. Eyes widened with fear, he hid behind the tree again.

"Stiles?" Derek asked worried.

"Giant… wolf… dog… thingy."

"Like a hellhound?"

"Yeah..." He risked another glance around the stump. That big hairy thing was still there and apparently sniffed the gravestone of his mom. "I think it's trying to catch a scent or something…."

"Don't move. I'll be there in a minute."


About three and a half minute later, Derek turned up behind Stiles.

"Where is it?" He asked, which made Stiles jump.

"Dear God, couldn't you give me a warning?" Stiles asked with a shocked, yet relieved expression.

"Sorry," Derek said and then began to search the graveyard for the hellhound. "Where is it?" he asked again.

"Gone," Stiles simply said, looking around the gravestones too. "I think it knew you'd come."

Derek turned to the boy and eyed him with an appraising look.

"He didn't attack you?"

"Do I look like it did?"

"No. Thank God." Derek locked his arms around the frail torso of Stiles, kissing the top of his head.

"The Sourwolf's worried?" Stiles said amused, looking up at Derek when their embrace broke apart.

"Yes," Derek said deadpan. "It could have ripped you apart."

"So could have Peter, Scott, Jackson, your Betas, the Alphas, the Siren and especially you. But I'm still here." He reached out for the ends of the sleeves of Derek's sweater, playing with the fabric.

"From now on, I want you to make sure that there's always somebody of us near, either Scott, Isaac or me. I can't leave you unprotected. Whenever I've got time I'll keep an eye on you. Promise that you tell Isaac and Scott."

"Sure," Stiles said, irritated about Derek's worries. "What about when I'm at home? I can't asked Scott and Isaac to spend every evening with me."

"Hm… true. Well… I've got things to do later, but I'll be at yours tomorrow evening. I hope nothing happens until then."

"It won't," Stiles tried to reassure Derek, but his voice shook slightly and Derek could sense that he wasn't so sure of what he said.


"Hey De…" Stiles said as he turned around, meaning to find his boyfriend climbing into his bedroom through the window as he said yesterday, but he couldn't finished his sentence. There, next to his bed, stood a giant wolf – a hellhound. Stiles fell from his chair, scrabbled back until his back hit the wall, unable to scream, to make any sound at all. All his senses focused onto the hellhound, who remained to stand next to his bed. His eyes slowly wandered around his room and found what they were looking for: his baseball bat. Unfortunately it stood to far away for Stiles to take hold of it without getting up, and that would mean he risked it to get attacked by the hellhound. But Stiles couldn't tell how long that creature would remain standing there, so he risked it. He jumped up, leapt aside to grab the bat and held it shielding before him at the hellhound. The creature bared his teeth and bent its legs, getting ready to leap at Stiles. It growled loudly and jumped forwards. Stiles saw his life fade before his eyes, but the expected pain did not come. He opened his eyes that he had closed in fear and a terrifying scene met his eyes. There was the hellhound, snapping after Derek who tried to prevail, but there was no doubt that the hellhound was too strong.

"Call… Scott," Derek growled and Stiles hastily pulled out his mobile and called his best friend.

"Scott? Scott, you're there?" Stiles asked with fear in his voice.

"What is it?" he asked, knowing that something must be wrong.

"Get here. My house. Bring Isaac and Cora and the others if you can." There was no need for any more words, so he hung up. Immediately he was confronted with the battle before him again. Luckily his dad was at work so there was no chance he could get involved in this mess. But the fear for his dad was then replaced by his fear for Derek who still struggled to overwhelm the hellhound, but it was still too strong.

Stiles begged for Scott to hurry up and he also begged that he brought Isaac and Emily's pack and Cora. He felt utterly weak, standing with his back to the door, the bat still clutched in his hand, unable to do anything than staring at the fight.

Suddenly there was a cry from Derek and blood dripped onto the carpet: the hellhound had bitten Derek's arm. But Derek kept on fighting. Two minutes later the wound already healed. And then the doorbell rang.

Stiles rashly yanked open the door, stormed down the stairs and pulled open the front door. In front of it stood everyone: Scott, Isaac, Cora, Ethan, Aiden, Emily, Susanna, Jeremy, Eric and Maggy.

"Upstairs," Stiles gasped unnecessarily since the werewolves could hear perfectly clear were Derek fought. Emily was the first one, together with Cora, to slip through the door beside Stiles; the other's followed.

Stiles did not dare to follow them upstairs. He sat down at the kitchen table, his head in his hands, listening to the sounds of the fight upstairs. He wondered if all of them fitted into his room and if they could manage to kill the hellhound.

After ten more minutes, Isaac came downstairs and placed his hand on Stiles' shoulder.

"It's over."

Stiles looked up at him, saw that his shirt was ripped and blood was squirted all over his face and upper body. Isaac looked at him with a guilty expression.

"And… your room's wrecked."

Stiles' eyes widened and he stood up.

"Shit." He repeated this curse on every step of the stairs. When he reached the corridor, he got a foretaste of what was to come: blood was splattered over the wall that faced his bedroom door.

"SHIT!"

All the other werewolves stood in the corridor except for Derek who stood in the door frame, arms folded before his chest. All of them were smeared with the blood of the hellhound, the clothes of some of them were ripped like Isaac's. Stiles moved forwards, finally standing before his bedroom.

The teen was lost for words. If he didn't know that he stood before his room he wouldn't have known. In the middle of the room laid the hellhound – his head ripped off. A great puddle of blood had flooded from his deadly injury and had soaked into the carpet. The covers of his bed laid next to it, the filling of the mattress welled up, most of his clutter that once filled the shelves lay scattered on the ground and the posters on the walls hung down somberly.

"Was it necessary to tear my bedroom apart?"

"We couldn't know that the hellhound would turn up in your bedroom, Stiles," Derek said. The boy turned around to face Derek and saw the other's looking at him through the door.

"We're sorry, dude," Scott said and gave him a look similar to the one Isaac gave him earlier.

"Well… at least that freaking wolf is dead… on my floor, but dead. Can you at least help me cleaning up before my dad comes home?"

Scott shot his best friend an amused look despite the terror they had just gone through and started laughing.

"Maybe you should consider a makeover instead of a clean-up."