Past ...

After stuffing himself full with pasta Stiles retreated to the living room where he curled up on the sofa and nursed a not so un-welcome carb hangover. The weight of the food in his stomach filled the aching emptiness he'd felt for days now and Stiles enjoyed the break from it it although he knew it would be short lived. He lay beside Derek using his thigh as a pillow and soaked up the warmth and comfort of his company - the human contact felt good because in the week since his mother's death this was the closest he'd been to anyone. His father had kept to his room drowning in his own grief; he only appeared to eat when Stiles managed to coax him into it or to grab a fresh bottle from the liquor cabinet. The two had exchanged only a few words since her death; when they were in the same room together, it felt awkward and Stiles hated it. He knew his father loved him, but that he didn't know what to say or do - Stiles had always gone to his mother for comfort when he needed it.

Derek was watching a movie, one that featured werewolves and he complained porously about its lack of accuracy, which Stiles suspected was for his own benefit; this only caused Stiles to smile - he liked how Derek was trying to make it feel like any normal night because it allowed him a much needed break from reality.

Some time ago Stiles had noticed the spidery black veins creeping up from Derek's hand which was resting lightly on his shoulder, from his fingers which were resting on his pulse point. He watched mesmerised for a few moments as the black pulsed through his arm that was snaked around his shoulders but he said nothing - whatever it was Derek was doing, some sort of werewolf thing he figured, it was helping and he didn't want him to stop.

"You're going to be in trouble when you get home." Stiles sighed.

Derek glanced down at him, his eyes warm and golden yellow - Stiles wondered if he knew they'd changed colour - but again didn't mention it. "Don't worry about me, go to sleep you need it." he encouraged. "It's okay, I'll wake you if you have a nightmare." he said when he saw a flash of fear in Stiles's eyes.

"Promise?" Stiles asked in a small voice.

Derek nodded; he pulled a folded up blanket which usually lay on the top of the sofa down and wrapped it securely around Stiles. "Sleep." he insisted.

Stiles knew in order to satisfy his body's craving for sleep he had to keep his thoughts at bay; he couldn't allow himself to think about his mother, the painful memories of better times would only keep him awake; he couldn't think about his father's drinking either or worry about how they'd cope in the long term. Stiles didn't want to think about anything and so listened intently to Derek's complaints over the film and concentrated on the course feel of the denim on the side of his face. He timed his own breathing with Derek's and soon found himself relaxing as his heart beat slowed to match the werewolf's.

Derek stroked his fingers over Stiles's collar bone, he didn't know what to do other than to sit beside him, draw away some of his pain and hope that would somehow help. He could feel everything Stiles was feeling - emotions raging and crashing around inside of him, the grief, the loneliness, the worry, the anger. It was overwhelming at times, no wonder Stiles was struggling to cope. Derek tried to ignore the wolf scratching at his insides - it was frustrated and desperate, wanting to fix Stiles but not knowing how.

Stiles quickly fell into a light sleep; Derek flicked off the television and laid his head back against the sofa, his eyes on Stiles and his ears turned into his heart beat waiting for any sign of a nightmare. Derek watched him for hours, listening to the thump of his heart, the tick-tock of the clock on the mantel piece and the cars rushing past on the street outside. Thankfully Stiles's sleep was trouble free.

Derek did not allow himself to move even when the leg Stiles was resting on started to go numb, he knew if he moved he would wake. Minutes ticked by which soon turned to hours, and still Derek sat, ignoring the numbness now creeping over his whole body and the ache in his back from sitting in one position for too long.

Derek sat until the sun came up, and then only moved when heard movement from the Sheriff's bedroom above him. He carefully eased himself out from under Stiles, who immediately started to stir and replaced his thigh with a pillow from the armchair. Stiles glanced up at him through bleary eyes. "Thanks ..." he mumbled smiling up at Derek, noticing his eyes were still golden, before dropping his head down onto the pillow.

Derek tiptoed out of the room and slipped out house moments before the Sheriff headed down the stairs.

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Present ...

Stiles wasn't sure how it had come to this. How it had come to him digging up the front yard of the old Hale house with Scott. The day had just spiralled out of control starting with Scott going to confront Derek after finding out that Allison's jacket had been mysteriously placed in her locker. It was the same jacket which Derek had previously taken and used as bait to get him out into the woods,

Stiles had tried to stop Scott going after Derek, that the jacket being returned was not a direct threat on Allison but Scott hadn't listened - his wolf instincts going into overdrive. He'd gone to the Hale house after school and had confronted Derek - that was when Scott had noticed the freshly dug earth and the smell of blood. Scott was convinced that point that Derek was the murderer the police were looking for and had buried the remaining half of her body on his property.

Stiles believed that Derek wasn't responsible but also trusted Scott, and believed him when he told him about the smell of blood - confused, Stiles knew he had to find out what was going on. Stiles was devastated when Scott confirmed after a visit to the morgue that the smell was indeed the same as the murdered girl.

With no other option Stiles had drive to woods with Scott in the passenger seat and two spades in the back of the jeep. He drove in silence, completely lost and confused - if they did un-earth the girl's body in the Hale yard did that mean Derek had killed her? That he'd lied? Stiles felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, perhaps the two years away had changed Derek. Stiles after all, had no clue what happened to him during that time. Derek wasn't the same person, the same friend, that had left when he was 14 years old - he'd been foolish to believe in him so implicitly he suddenly realised.

Perhaps he was also wrong to believe that Derek hadn't been the one to bite Scott. Again he was only going on Derek's word. Thinking about it objectively, there had been no other sign of any other werewolves in Beacon Hills and Scott had been bitten the same night the police had found the murdered girl - the same night Derek had returned to Beacon Hills.

All the evidence pointed to Derek being guilty. Derek, his friend, the one person he trusted most in the world, who he'd invited to live with him, and if he was being truly honest with himself - who he'd had one too many confusing, hormone filled, dreams about was a murder.

Derek was a murder.

Stiles park the jeep hurriedly, dived out and ran to the nearest bush which he promptly threw up in. Scott jumped out and headed over. "Are you okay dude?" he asked worriedly.

Stiles nodded, straightening up and wiping his sleeve over his mouth. "M'fine." he mumbled, not sure why he wasn't telling Scott everything. Why he was still protecting his past where Derek was concerned.

"The grave is just over there." Scott said pointing just to the left of the Hale house. "You still up for this?" he asked, his eyes darting over Stiles's.

Stiles nodded, gritted his teeth with determination and grabbed a spade from the back of the jeep - one way or another he was going to find out for sure what was going on.

So that was how he'd come to find himself digging up the front yard of the old Hale house. Stiles leant against his spade and wiped his brow. "I need a break, just a minute." he said, completely exhausted.

"He might come back." Scott hissed continuing to dig away furiously.

Stiles snorted - it wasn't likely. He knew exactly where Derek was - at home right drinking beer and stuffing down chips with his father whilst they watched some big game they'd both been looking forward to on the television. Stiles had told them he was going out with Scott, he knew pretending to be upstairs doing homework whilst he snuck out (his normal excuse) wouldn't cut it because Derek would know he wasn't there what with his stupid supernatural hearing and all.

Stiles therefore was fairly sure Derek wouldn't come back to the Hale house and so decided he'd earned a few minutes rest from digging; he wandered around the yard stretching out his muscles. Derek couldn't have killed the girl Stiles so desperately wanted to believe. They were going to find the grave empty and Scott would admit that he had been wrong about the smell of blood; he would see sense, start to trust Derek and the three of them could work on finding the real werewolf that had killed her and had bitten Scott.

Sadly Stiles knew this wasn't going to happen - too much evidence pointed toward Derek being guilty.

Stiles headed over the large tree standing proudly next to the burnt out building - he was glad it had survived the fire; this was the tree he'd fallen out of upon first meeting Derek when he was five years old. It was the tree that then went on to be his and Derek's favourite to climb and hide from Cora in when they wanted to ditch her so they could go into the woods and build camps or go down to the river and fish without her tagging along. They built a pretty fine tree house in that particular tree one summer and it survived several years until a particularly bad storm brought it down in the night, it didn't matter to them - they only went on to build a bigger better one deeper in the woods. Stiles wondered if it was still there, probably not, that had been years ago now he thought sighing sadly. That had been before the fire, even before his mother had died.

"Come on Stiles." Scott called urgently.

Stiles headed over and began digging once more. He was not prepared for what they soon found and couldn't help but yelp at the face staring up at him from the grave.

Laura Hale.

Stiles almost choked at the sight.

Laura?!