Stiles rushed down the stairs, trying to figure out how he'd sneak some breakfast for Derek back up to his room. Derek had made it perfectly clear that he didn't want to see Stiles again until he was holding a cup of coffee. He turned the corner into the kitchen and was surprised to see his father standing there, jotting down a note. When he saw Stiles, he crumpled the paper and tossed it into the trashcan.

"Dad! You're up early."

"Up late is more like it. Just when I'm about to call it a day, one more thing pops up. If you're going to be home today, I'd appreciate it if you could keep it down."

"Yeah, sure thing. What's going on?"

"I'm not sure, something down at the cemetery; I won't know more until I get there." The sheriff sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "There's half a sandwich in the fridge, if it's not there when I get back, I will probably shoot you."

Stiles grinned. "Understood. Be careful."

Sheriff Stilinski smiled at his son and headed out of the house. Stiles started the coffee maker and tried to guess which cereal Derek would prefer.

Stiles came back into his bedroom and was astonished to see Derek's eyes light up. Then he realized the werewolf focused, not on him, but on the steaming mug of coffee he held.

"Stiles, I finally found a use for you," Derek grinned, taking the cup.

Stiles made a face. "This from the guy who spent the night on my bedroom floor, safe from danger."

"Spent the night safe from the danger of falling asleep, maybe." Derek then snored so loudly the windows may have actually shaken. "That's you. That's what you sound like. All night."

"I don't snore." Stiles muttered.

Derek looked like he was about to do an encore impression when his phone suddenly chirped for attention. He grabbed it and held it to his ear.

"Hello? Speaking." Derek gave Stiles a confused look, "No, of course I remember you, Sheriff Stilinski. It's not every day I get arrested for murder."

Stiles' jaw dropped. "My dad?" he mouthed, pointing to his chest and moving closer to Derek in an attempt to overhear the conversation.

Derek shooed him away impatiently. "What? Who would do something like that? No, I'll… I'll be there in a little bit. Officer Lewton, got it. Thank you for calling."

Dropping down onthe edge of Stiles' bed and shaking his head, Derek looked as if he'd just been sucker punched.

"Derek," Stiles asked, sitting next to him, "what happened? Is everything okay?"

Derek took a moment to respond. "Someone got into the cemetery last night and vandalized my family's plot."

Isaac watched Derek take in the toppled headstones and torn-up earth before them. He came up from behind and raised his hand to lay it on Derek's shoulder, saw how tightly the alpha clenched his fists, and thought better of it.

"We'll get this cleaned up as soon we can, I'll take care of it myself. The other stones should be fine, but it looks like your parents'…" His voice broke slightly. He cleared his throat and tried again. "It looks like your parents' may have to be replaced. I can get you the number from the office, if you want."

Derek nodded. "Thanks, Isaac. I have the number somewhere."

Isaac met Derek's eyes. "I can't smell anything, I don't know who it was. Do you?"

"Nothing."

A voice came from behind them. "Oh wow," Stiles muttered. "I'm sorry, man." He moved closer to Derek, but also held back from touching him. "Any idea who might have done it?"

Isaac spoke up. "Nothing."

"Just like the signs." Derek added.

"No," Stiles denied vehemently, "This is nothing like the signs. I don't need any wolfy super-senses to tell me that. Whoever did this was angry, I can feel it."

"What signs?" Isaac asked. "Is that what your text meant?"

"Yeah," Derek began, telling Isaac what they had learned, looking to Stiles when he needed help explaining something. He noticed Derek left out the part about sleeping on Stiles' bedroom floor, and for once didn't feel like teasing.

"That's pretty unsettling." Isaac whispered once Derek finished.

Derek nodded in agreement, heading into the plot. He kneeled behind one of the headstones and tipped it up, grunting as he slid it back onto its base. Isaac and Stiles stood watching in silence as Derek returned the undamaged stones to their rightful places.

"Hello? Wait up! Where are you going?" Stiles scrambled to catch up with Derek as the werewolf headed to his car. "Answer me!"

Derek turned around to face Stiles. His mouth moved for a second, but no sound came out. "Stiles. I can't right now," he finally sputtered. His eyes flashed red.

Stiles stepped back and raised his arms. "I get it, I do. Just don't be an idiot. Something is after you, Derek"

Derek scoffed and looked up at the sky for a moment before he got into his car and sped off.

Stiles watched the car vanish around a corner and sighed. He felt Isaac bump into his shoulder gently.

"This is weird, right?"

Stiles snorted. "Weird doesn't even begin to describe it." He could tell Isaac was perturbed and filled with concern for his alpha. "Don't worry though, we'll figure it out."

Isaac grinned. "Super-Stiles is on the case?"

"Yeah," Stiles replied, grinning back. "Super-Stiles," he repeated, rolling his shoulders, "Super-Stiles."

Stiles sat in his Jeep and looked out at row upon rows of stones. He was at the cemetery; he couldn't very well not go. He drove to the other side of the burial ground, got out, and plopped cross-legged on the ground in front of a plain gravestone. He plucked a blade of grass and twirled it in his fingers for a long moment.

"Hey, Mom," he began. "It's been a while, sorry about that. Things get busy; you wouldn't believe the sort of stuff that I get involved with. Well, maybe you would; it's serious horror movie stuff." Stiles talked a lot when he spoke with his mom, but it wasn't the nervous ramble that often frustrated even Scott. Of all the people he knew, Stiles' mother had been the only one who never told him to shut up or get to the point. When he had finally talked himself out, he sat with his eyes closed, as if waiting for a response.

That was when he heard the scraping.