Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Teen Wolf, because if I did, then Sterek would be canon.

A/N: Hello everyone! I'm back for chapter four! I'm burying myself in my computer this weekend because I have to type up three lab reports, and I need to write my term paper. That being said, I need a break from all of the science and literature written by others and let my mind wander for a moment. So, saving my ranting for the end of the chapter, please READ, REVIEW, FAVORITE, and ENJOY! Here's chapter 4:

Everything was so white when Stiles woke up.

His eyes opened slightly, and he was immediately blinded by the bright fluorescent light which was shining brilliantly on the ceiling. Stiles quickly raised a hand to shield his eyes from the unwanted light, and that when he realized that he was no longer wearing his own clothes. 'Fuck, I'm naked aren't I?' Stiles thought to himself, but even then he realized that idea was definitely not possible. He glanced down and found his body draped in hospital robes, and he was laying in one of the beds. A white blanked was pulled up to his waist, and he had a patient's bracelet on his wrist.

"This is even worse…" Stiles murmured silently. Next he heard the steady beeping of his heart monitor which was right next to his bed. The lines were rhythmically moving along the screen, moving up when his heart beat again. Stiles stared at his heart monitor for a few more minutes, before he felt pain in his arm. He looked down at his arm, and memories of some of the day's events came flooding back to him. One of the cuts was stitched up tightly, the one which was bleeding profusely earlier. He reached down to touch it, and it stung the instant his fingers brushed against the stitches. The brunette withdrew his hand immediately, and turned his gaze towards the ceiling. 'Great,' Stiles mentally complained. 'Now everyone at school will think I'm suicidal, or that I'm masochistic, or that I'm a freak.'

He looked back towards his arm which was littered in very small, almost unnoticeable scars that seemed to run like miniature indentations on his arm. From a distance, no one would be able to see the patchwork of scars running up his arm. However, from up close, they were plentiful enough to draw some attention. That's why Stiles always wore sweatshirts and long-sleeve shirts: they hid the scars better than anything.

Stiles was snapped out of his current train of thought by the sound of clothing rubbing against something, and very faint breathing. The clothing sounded strained, not flowing like cotton, but something stiffer. Stiles hoped that whoever it was, it was a doctor or it was Scott.

Scott…

He wanted to punch the fuck out of Scott right now. Why was he not able to come and help him when he needed an ambulance, or just someone there to try to assist him? Instead he called Derek for help…wait…

Stiles picked his head up and turned it towards the sound of the faint breathing that he heard coming from another place in the room. And sure enough, Derek was sitting down in a chair, completely passed out. His black pants and leather jacket were still in place, and his gray t-shirt was peeking out from underneath his jacket. Tucked tightly between Derek's strong arms was Stiles red sweatshirt, and the rest of his clothes were neatly folded and placed between his feet. Stiles looked over Derek again, laughing slightly to himself when he saw the larger teen shift slightly in his sleep and pull the sweatshirt closer. "Guess he's kind of worn out too…" Stiles said, not minding the volume of his voice.

Derek's head shot straight up, and Stiles froze for an instant as he was met with a look of pure fear and confusion. Sure he looked tough on the outside, but there was clearly something eating away at Derek. Stiles noticed it a few times, and now it was more prominent than ever. He had only ever seen that look from someone else one other time in his life. It was the look his mother had given him when she was…Stiles shook his head.

"Hey…" Stiles tried. While he didn't particularly feel like talking, he knew that he owed Derek. "You look like hell…are you okay?"

"Why do you do it?"

Stiles knew this was coming. He knew that Derek would want to question him right away. He didn't know if Derek was just genuinely concerned, or if there was some ulterior motive behind his inquiries. Stiles always hesitated to trust people, but there was something about Derek that just made it okay.

"Tell me!" Derek's voice broke slightly as he spoke. Derek was now all but crushing the red sweatshirt into his chest as he sat waiting for Stiles answer. Stiles took notice, smirked slightly, and then laid back down on the bed.

"I do it to forget," Stiles said calmly after about a minute of silence.

"Forget what?"

"Everything," Stiles returned. "I hate it. Every time I go to school I get shit from other people. It's gotten worse over the years. So once I started cutting, all of my emotional pain went away. I forgot all about those assholes, and all of those thoughts were replaced with pain. I can handle physical pain…but I'm not strong enough to handle all of the emotional pain. Cutting takes all of that away from me, and makes it more manageable."

"But even then the memories still come back, so what's the point?" Derek asked.

"The point is that cutting is relief…no matter how temporarily…I just want to escape it all," Stiles stated. "You know…I've thought about running away. But then again, I couldn't get too far away without someone noticing and telling my dad where I've gone…"

"You shouldn't run away! That wouldn't solve anything!" Derek interjected. "People would miss you."

"Yeah…they'd miss their punching bag," Stiles shot back, a little more venomously than he intended to in the first place. "No…and even then…it's not just running away I think about…"

"You don't mean…"

"I do," Stiles said firmly. "I've even come close about three times. Standing on the roof of a building, looking over the edge and wondering what hitting the ground would feel like, and if it would be over quickly. What would it feel like if I use the knife to cut somewhere else, and paint the bathroom red? Does drowning hurt, or is it as quick and painless as falling asleep?"

Stiles was snapped out of his train of thought by to arms pulling him into a tight embrace. Derek was trembling, and Stiles could tell that he had gone too far. Strange…Stiles was supposed to be the one fucked up in the head, so why was he the one comforting Derek? Nevertheless, Stiles started to return the hug, and he let himself be fully enveloped in Derek's warmth as embrace dragged on, their bodies flush together perfectly. "Hey there…I wouldn't actually do it though! I mean, I have too big of a personality to actually do something as uncool as that, right?"

"Promise me you won't…"

"Okay," Stiles assured. "I won't."

"And that you'll stop cutting…"

"But…what if," Stiles started, and then was immediately cut off.

"If you need some way to forget the pain, then you can come see me," Derek stated wholeheartedly, still holding tightly to Stiles.

"Fine, I promise…but, why do you care so much about me?" Stiles asked. He was half hoping for a cheesy and romantic line, but at the same time he dreaded the possibility of one. The idea of being in a relationship with Derek Hale was definitely exciting to Stiles, and not to mention that Derek's body was amazing. But, Stiles wanted to get to know him better. His head was swimming with thoughts when a simple three word response came to him. Just three words, but they weren't the three that Stiles was envisioning Derek saying to him.

"You don't remember?" Derek asked quietly.

Stiles stopped. He searched his memory for anything he could have done recently to help out Derek, either directly or indirectly. But no matter how hard he thought, he could not come up with anything. "Uh no…but any chance you want to remind me?"

"Well…" Derek shifted uncomfortably. He was about to continue when the door burst open.

Scott.

Punch.

Kick.

Bite.

Claw.

Maim.

DO SOMETHING.

"Stiles!? Are you okay!?" Scott almost shouted, and he ran right between Derek and Stiles. However, Stiles peered around Scott just to see Derek slowly slink back into his own seat, while simultaneously giving Scott a death glare. He could have sworn that he even heard Derek growl at Scott…

"Scott! I'm okay," Stiles returned with a smile on his face, but sensing some thick tension in the room. While his attention was mostly on Scott energetically asking about his wellbeing every two seconds, Stiles couldn't help but shift his attention towards Derek every few seconds, watching his every reaction to what Scott was saying. He seemed offended with every word that passed Scott's lips. Last time Scott mentioned Derek, he said that he trusted him. What had Scott done to make Derek not like him?

"Hey Scott…" Stiles started.

"Yeah bud?"

"Where were you? You said that you couldn't come earlier, so I just wanted to know…you know…" and Stiles immediately regretted asking that question, because he somewhat knew the answer even before he asked the question. So all he did was look with empty hopes at Scott as he awaited the answer to come from his own mouth.

"I was with Allison," Scott said, hints of regret in his voice. Whether the regret was from leaving Allison early to go see Stiles or not leaving Allison early enough to go help Stiles was an entirely different question. But, nonetheless Stiles' guess had been correct. It was always Allison. Every excuse, every day, every minute, every second was Allison. Ever since she and Scott had started dating, she snuck in and cut Stiles out of his life like a knife. And it killed Stiles inside that he was losing his best friend to her.

"Because apparently she's more important to him," Derek said roughly. All hints of gentleness in his voice that he had used earlier with Stiles were completely gone. It was like a completely different Derek had emerged, and he was furious. Stiles looked around Scott to see that Derek was already standing up, and his fists were balled tightly at his sides. "His best friend could be dying, but he'd rather stay at some girl's house if it means that he might get lucky."

Stiles was stunned. 'So that's why Derek has been so pissed since Scott got here?' He was definitely surprised that Derek would talk back to Scott, but with the menacing aura he was emitting, Stiles could also tell that Derek had meant to say every single word that he had. "But I guess it's no big deal if you just send someone to pick him up for you. As long as your penis finds a happy place, I bet you don't have a goddamn care in the world."

"Hey!" Scott began. "Don't you dare judge me! You don't know my life! You only know Stiles!"

"Well I bet after the past few minutes here with him that I know more about him than you do!" Derek spat back. "He needs to be looked after, and you're abandoning him in his time of need! Some real friend you are."

"Get out of here," Scott said, trying to force the anger out of his voice. "I told you all you needed to do was get him somewhere safe or help him out. I think you've overstayed your welcome."

Derek turned to leave before Stiles arm reached out in his direction. "Derek…I want you to stay…" Stiles said softly, his strength slowly going away as he felt the onset of sleep battling him ferociously. "Scott…he's right. I want you to leave me. Please…you've done enough."

Awestruck, Scott turned and left the hospital room without any further argument, leaving Stiles and Derek alone. Not before long, Stiles fell asleep in the bed, and Derek would be there when he woke up a few hours later. And Derek was there when he was processed and released from the hospital. Derek was with Stiles for it all.

So what did you think? Another clash between Scott and Derek, but this time Stiles gets himself involved? Yes ladies and gentlemen, and there will be more in the future. Until then, anonymous reviews are active, so please REVIEW, FOLLOW, and FAVORITE! Love you all!

See you next time!