Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews (again!). Might upload another chapter tonight, just a little Derek POV one! xx

"You know, I could have you arrested for this." Stiles looked up as Derek climbed in the window. "My dad, you know, the sheriff, is right downstairs. Gun, handcuffs, the lot."

"No he isn't. He hasn't been in the house for hours."

"Well he could have been. What do you want?"

"I need that book." Derek replied, crossing to Stiles' desk, moving aside papers and clothes.

"Which book?" Stiles asked, frowning as Derek shoved a pile of clothes onto the floor.

"The one about witches."

"Which witch book." Stiles laughed, earning himself a glare from Derek. "My dad confiscated all the books." Stiles replied, putting down his PSP on the bed and getting up to retrieve the clothes Derek had thrown on the floor. "Something about me being led astray. Sorry."

"Well where did he put them? I need it."

"I have no idea. I just know they're not in the house." He asked, watching as Derek continued to shuffle through a pile of loose papers. "Did you want something else?"

"You smell like you've been crying."

"You do realise that's a massively creepy thing to say, right? Or is this how you do concerned?"

"I was trying to be polite." Derek replied, leaning on the back of Stiles' desk chair.

"Well telling people they smell generally isn't considered polite. And yeah, so what if I've been crying? I had to go see Dr. Monkton today. It wasn't exactly a walk in the park." He ran a hand over his head, shifting uncomfortably as Derek watched him and sat down on the bed. "Are witches a thing now then? Is that why you need that book?"

"No. I just wanted it."

"Well I don't have it, so could you close the window when you leave."

"It was my brother's birthday today." Derek blurted out, his claws extending slightly as he tightened his grip on the back of the chair.

"Really? How old would he have been?"

"29." Derek took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax and retract his claws.

"You want to talk about it?" Stiles asked, picking up his PSP and turning it around in his hands.

"No." Derek let go of the chair, sitting down and pulling his lighter from his pocket, glaring down at it.

"So what does the J stand for then?" Stiles asked, nodding towards the lighter in Derek's hands. "Cause I'm guessing the H is for Hale, right?"

"Joseph."

"Sure you don't want to talk about it?"

"Very."

Stiles shrugged, turning his PSP back on and leaning back against his pillows. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Derek running a hand over his face, staring down at the lighter in his hand as he traced the engraved letters with the side of his thumb.

"He was looking for this the night before the fire." Derek mumbled, the sound of his voice making Stiles jump. "He was meant to be going to visit friends from college and was packing his stuff and couldn't find it. He accused Laura of stealing it." He sighed, throwing the lighter onto Stiles' bed and rubbing his eyes.

"What was he like?" Stiles switched off his PSP again and leant forward, his elbows on his knees.

"I'm not sitting here and discussing my family with you."

"Sure about that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Derek glared, feeling annoyed when Stiles only rolled his eyes in response.

"It's just you keep saying you don't want to talk about stuff but then you start telling me anyway. More specifically, you climb into my room to not talk about stuff with some weak sauce excuse about wanting a book."

"I did want that book..."

"If you say so."

"I'm leaving now." Derek got to his feet, stalking over to the window and looking out at the back yard.

"Don't you want this back?" Stiles held out the lighter to him, meeting his gaze and holding it as he walked back across the room.

"Does talking to your therapist really help?" Derek asked as Stiles passed him the lighter, his fingertips trailing over Derek's own for just a second too long. Stiles nodded, stretching his arms out behind him and leaning back.

"Yeah. I mean, I don't particularly like talking to him, and it doesn't feel all that great at the time, but I usually feel better after. Why?"

"You haven't told anyone what I said the other day?"

"No! Why would I?" Stiles looked hurt at the suggestion. "For a start, I haven't been anywhere or seen anyone to tell them. And," he added when he saw the expression on Derek's face, "like I said the other day, I don't go around sharing other people's secrets. Could you just say whatever it is that's on your mind, because you're clearly desperate to talk about something and I'd quite like to go to sleep at some point tonight."

"I don't know how." Derek said quietly, sitting down next to Stiles. "I've never really spoken to anyone except Laura about everything that happened."

"If you're not going to say anything, I'm going to at least put some music on. I can't cope sitting here in silence." Stiles pushed himself off the bed, only for Derek to reach out and grab him by the wrist.

"You have terrible taste in music." He scowled as Stiles sat back down.

"Well say something then!" Stiles tried to pull his wrist from Derek's grip.

"Like what? That I miss my brother?"

"Yes! That's a start. What was he like?"

"Laura used to say that I hero-worshipped him. Before the fire, anyway. Afterwards she wouldn't talk about him."

"How come?"

"I don't know, maybe because they had a fight the night before it happened." Derek stared down at the floor, his grip on Stiles' wrist loosening slightly.

"Why'd Laura say you worshipped him?" Stiles attempted to pull his wrist free again, watching Derek cautiously.

"Don't know." He was still staring fixedly ahead of him and caught hold of Stiles' hand before he could move away, entwining their fingers. He ignored the confused noise Stiles made, the sound of his heart suddenly racing; he wasn't quite sure why he was holding hands with Stiles but felt better for it. "Maybe I did hero-worship him, but he was my brother, that's what you're meant to do, right? Me and Laura didn't really get on that well before, she used to make jokes about me in front of her friends and try and start fights with me all the time. Joseph used to get her to back off. And he never used to complain when our mom would make him take me places with him." Much to his annoyance, he heard his voice crack slightly as he spoke and felt tears pricking at his eyes. He reached up and rubbed his eyes roughly with his free hand.

"Sounds like he was a good guy." Stiles replied. He lightly brushed Derek's thumb with his own, staring down at their hands; it was concerning him how right it felt for Derek's fingers to be entwined with his own..

"He was, mostly. He could be a jerk sometimes, like when he beat up one of Laura's boyfriends 'cause the guy was a sophomore and she was still in junior high and he used to spend way too much time with Peter thinking up these mean ass pranks to play on me and Laura."

"Isn't that what brothers are meant to do though? Not that I'd know, being an only child and all that."

"Yeah, I suppose. I bet he wouldn't be fucking up being an alpha as bad as I am." Derek frowned, tensing when he felt Stiles squeeze his hand sympathetically.

"Yet another thing I'm not really much of an expert on, but you don't seem to be doing all that bad. Better than Peter anyway. There's been a distinct lack of me and Scott nearly getting murdered."

"Boyd and Erica ran away. Scott didn't want to be part of my pack. Peter struts around the place doing whatever the hell he wants. There's a goddamn alpha pack lurking around the edges of our territory. That's fucking up by my standards."

"Boyd and Erica came back though. And Scott's in your pack now." Stiles squeezed Derek's hand again for emphasis. "And when was the last time the alpha pack actually came in to your territory?"

"A couple of weeks ago, I guess." Derek scowled at his feet. "But still..."

"Still nothing. Not fucking up."

"Feels like I am."

"Hey, I thought I'd cornered the market on deep seated insecurity." Stiles teased lightly, looking down at his hand again. "So uh, this is a new thing."

Derek quickly pulled his hand away and got to his feet, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

"I've got to go." He muttered, crossing to the window. "Thanks."

"Any time." Stiles responded, Derek paused and looked over his shoulder as he began to climb out the window, shooting Stiles an awkward half smile before disappearing into the darkness.

Hope people aren't all morally opposed to me inventing relatives that Derek lost in the fire. If you are, well suck it up! My story, my OC's!