After Scott left, Derek called in a couple favors to find out what was going on in town. The current big bad roaming around Beacon Hills was what he believed to be a Wendigo. Apparently some teenagers disrupted some sacred site the natives had used a long time ago, awakening the monster.
"Maybe it's going after cops because something happened back when it was human involving law enforcement?" Stiles suggested, pouring over old texts he'd found about the creature in Derek's makeshift library.
Derek nodded, "It's possible." Stiles read a few sentences from one book before bouncing to another open volume, spinning around to open a new tab on his laptop, "I can literally hear your mind buzzing from here, Stiles."
The boy's head snapped up, a pencil between his teeth, "Hmm?"
"Forget to take your Adderall today?" He guessed, taking in a small huff of air. The chalky scent of medication wasn't clear on the human today he noticed.
Stiles ignored him – or forgot what he'd said – as he checked his phone again, "My Dad's not responding to any of my texts." He set the research aside, getting to his feet, "I think I should head by the station. I don't like that no one's told him about what's going on."
Derek felt guilty that he didn't stay in McCall's pack for the sake of being in the know about what was happening in his town. But he could constantly feel the urge to stay away from Stiles through the pack bond and that was something he just wasn't able to do. Damn if the human didn't somehow weasel his way into making a permanent space in Derek's life.
"I'll go with you." He said nonchalantly, pulling on his jacket.
Stiles paused, eyeing him suspiciously, "For my wonderful company or to keep an eye on me?"
He pulled the loft door open, "The company. Clearly." He deadpanned, waiting for the other boy to follow him out.
"I knew it." Stiles nudged him as he waltzed out of the loft, turning his head with a grin.
Derek found himself smiling back at the teen without realizing it, "Ass."
"You love me." Stiles sang over his shoulder as he hopped down the stairs.
He ignored the tightening in his stomach at his words.
This is usually what happened. Stiles would drive over to spar with him and then – after ransacking his kitchenette for food like one of the wolves – he would drive back home with Derek. Once he was safely inside, he'd release his wolf and go for a run out in the preserve to kick off some energy.
It wasn't unusual for the Sheriff to be home, but the door to the Stilinski house was wide open, as was the squad car parked in the driveway.
"Dad!" Stiles yelled before he'd even fully stopped the car, jumping out and running head first into the house.
"Stiles!" He called after him, speeding up right on his heels.
The smell of blood hit his nose just as the salty bite of tears did. The kitchen was a crime scene.
"DAD." Stiles slid onto his knees on the blood stained linoleum, "Dad please! Wake up, Dad!" He cried, grabbing the sheriff and clutching him desperately.
Derek rushed over, trying to listen over Stiles' sobs, "He's still breathing."
"Turn him, Der. H-he won't make it to the hospital." Stiles begged.
Derek shook his head, already dialing 911, "I'm not an alpha now. I-I can't." He hated himself a little bit more right then.
Stiles unlocked his phone with blood slick fingers, pressing a contact and holding it up to his ear. Derek watched him as he told the operator what had happened. An ambulance was on its way… but the shallow breathing of the sheriff was no longer audible.
"Where's Scott?!" Stiles cried into the phone, "I need him to come to my house – my Dad – he's – why isn't he answering his phone?"
"Stiles." The boy looked across to him and began shaking his head, the phone in his hand dropping to the floor, "I'm so sorry." He choked out.
"No." He coughed out a sob, focusing on his father's slack face, "NO. S-Scott's gonna come. He's gonna save you – Dad – come on. Don't-" Stiles' body was shaking vigorously, one tear no longer distinguishable from the next, "I've still got you, Dad. You can't leave me."
Derek heard the sirens coming down the street, too little too late. He shuffled around the Sheriff's body, resting a hand on Stiles' shoulder. There was nothing he could say.
The paramedics bustled in, but after a moment of harried movements, the team calmed down, pronouncing Sheriff Noah Stilinski – Stiles' father – dead.
Derek had to physically hold Stiles back as he argued with the paramedics, screaming at them to come back and save his dad. But Derek could sense the man was no longer with them.
The paramedics looked sadly at the crying teen, trying to comfort him, but he kept dodging their words. When one of them brought in a body bag, Stiles lost it. His chest began to heave as he threw himself over his father's body, begging them not to put him in there.
Blinking past his own tears, Derek had to pry Stiles away from his dad's body, pulling him into the back room. The teen kept hitting at his chest, crying out nonsensically before finally dropping his head onto Derek's shoulder. He wrapped his arms around Stiles, pulling him close. No words could take away the pain he knew the boy felt, so he just tried to keep him whole.
Stiles pulled back when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Derek saw Scott's picture pop up on the screen just before Stiles threw the phone against the wall with as much force as he could muster.
He stood in the middle of the room, face pink and body shivering, "Derek?"
Derek quickly came over, resting his hand against Stiles' neck, "What is it? What do you need? Just tell me."
Stiles grabbed him, tucking his face into his chest, "I don't want to be here anymore." He wept.
"I'm going to take you back to the loft." He held Stiles close, leading him out of the house and past the flashing ambulance. The keys were still in the ignition of the Jeep, so he helped Stiles into the passenger side of the car before getting into the driver's seat. He'd never driven so fast in his life.