John had only a second to wonder what was happening with his faucet, it was dripping now, before Derek stood in his kitchen. When Stiles had told him that he would come through the faucet, John had pictured him crawling out of there but Derek just suddenly stood in his kitchen. Just like in a horror movie John had missed the moment it happened, there was just suddenly a man standing in his kitchen.

John was on his feet in a heart-beat and reaching for his gun that wasn't at his hip.

"Calm down, he's not going to hurt you." Stiles was sitting relaxed in his chair, one arm slung over the back to be able to keep both of them in his line of sight.

"You told him?" The man asked Stiles, ignoring John for the moment.

I haven't been drinking that much today, was the only rational thought John was able to form right now. But alcohol was the only explanation for the man in his kitchen who hadn't been there a second ago.

"I did but he didn't believe a word I was saying." Stiles looked over to him but John only noticed it out of the corner of his eye, even if this Derek guy was just standing there with his empty hands loosely at his side, he would not take his eyes off him.

"I'm Derek." The man confirmed his name. "Stiles says that he trusts you."

Now he did step closer. It made a wet sound. Wherever he'd come from, he was dripping wet. In the last few seconds, a puddle had formed around his feet.

"Stiles is mine." Derek made another step towards John and suddenly his eyes were glowing in a pale blue, like lamps in the fog.

John gasped in surprise and on instinct he took a step back. He knew that it was impossible but the lizard part of his brain insisted that the man in front of him wasn't a man at all.

"What do you want from Stiles?" Derek asked.

"Nothing," John hurried to say. "I just want to make sure he's okay."

Derek studied him for a long moment with those eery eyes. It felt as if he was looking right into his soul. If Stiles was right with what he'd told him earlier, Derek had been there when John had jumped into the lake. He knew that he'd tried to drown himself. Did he know that he was thinking of his gun sometimes? That he drank to numb the pain?

John stared into Derek's foggy eyes and it felt as if he could drown in that pale light. When Derek reached out to touch his face, John wanted to back off but he couldn't move.

Cool and wet, John felt water dripping off his jawline when Derek cupped his face.

"Derek, stop it." Stiles was suddenly between them and with a hand flat on Derek's chest, he forced him to take a step back. "You're scaring him."

Once the eye contact was broken, John came out of his stupor. He blinked and stepped back as well. With his sleeve, he wiped his still wet face.

"John is a good person." Stiles was now standing between them, shielding John from Derek but John didn't get the impression that Stiles expected Derek to come for him. It had been a warning, John got that.

"He feeds me," Stiles said. "When I came here dripping wet, he offered me dry clothes and a shower. Do you know how long it's been since I had a shower? Years!" He emphasized it with his whole body. "He slipped me a twenty the other day and offered me a place to stay. I know I screwed up when I fell asleep yesterday but I couldn't leave him, thinking he failed me in the worst possible way."

Stiles was good at reading people, John had to give him that. He would have never forgiven himself if something had happened to Stiles.

"Can we sit down?" Stiles asked Derek but then he looked over his shoulder to John. "Please?"

That's how John ended up sitting at his kitchen table with Stiles to his right and something not human called Derek to his left. He needed a drink.

"Ahh, fuck it," John said and got up to get a bottle and three glasses.

"Giving alcohol to a minor?" Stiles raised an amused eyebrow at him when he handed him a glass.

"You said that you were eighteen a long time ago." John shrugged. "Let's pretend for now that you're telling the truth."

He sat another glass in front of Derek who just looked at it as if he wasn't sure what to do with it. There was already a puddle forming under his chair, looked like John had to mop his kitchen again later.

John downed his drink before he had a closer look at Derek. The man was still dripping wet but his eyes were normal again. They were watching him from under thick eyebrows but John couldn't tell what he was thinking, his face was unreadable. Lack of expression but also the fact that he didn't look healthy. His skin was pale with a hint of green. Like a drowned corpse, John thought. Not as bad as the corpses they had fished out of the lake not long ago, those images still haunted him, but Derek didn't look exactly alive either. But close enough to fool people.

Derek was not much of a talker and he was only here because Stiles had asked him to, that much was obvious. Which was interesting, it shone a new light on their relationship.

"What did you mean when you said that Stiles belongs to you?" John asked.

"He's mine," Derek said as if that was answer enough.

"I'm not going to go into details." Stiles took over. "But I was kind of sacrificed to Derek. Instead of just drowning me, he kept me. I can do whatever I want but I can't stay away from Derek and the lake for too long. You saw what happens if I don't return on my own."

John poured himself another drink. He still wasn't sure if he believed any of this but he was getting the picture.

"What about those teenagers?" John changed the topic. "Stiles says you did it?"

Now Derek's face darkened.

"Yes," he said, his whole posture suddenly rigid.

"He didn't have a choice." Stiles cut in. "It's his nature. I tried to stop it but you wouldn't do anything. It's your fault as well."

Stiles was right, he should have done something. But the kids had been camping in a remote area and hadn't caused any trouble, John hadn't seen a reason to not let them have fun. It had been a mistake. Four teenagers were dead because he'd been wrong. He hadn't slept a night since then without that guilt weighing down on him.

"I know," John said and finished his drink. He was eyeing the bottle but decided against it. Derek hadn't even touched his drink and Stiles had only taken a few sips, it probably was not a good idea to get drunk in front of them.

John had a few more questions which Stiles answered in length but it was too much to take in at once, he needed time to think about all this.

"If it's too much, I understand," Stiles hurried to say, suddenly insecure. "I won't bother you again. I'll even try harder to not get caught shoplifting or doing … other stuff so you don't have to arrest me again." He tried to make it sound like a joke but John got that he meant it. If John couldn't deal with this, Stiles would leave him alone. He probably would never see him again.

"I just need some time to get used to all this." He made a helpless gesture from Stiles to Derek. "Dinner on Thursday?" He asked to show Stiles that his door was still open.

"How can I say no to free food?" Stiles grinned at him but he couldn't hide his relief. He'd risk a lot by telling John.

They said their goodbyes and then Stiles and Derek stepped over to the sink. In a blink of an eye, they were gone. John tried to see the exact moment but he kind of missed it again. They had been standing right there, Derek with a hand on Stiles' shoulder, and then they were gone.

John watched the faucet for a moment longer but when nothing else happened, he knocked back the drink Derek hadn't even touched and got the mop to clean up the water Derek had left behind.

It was weird, John had seen him appear and disappear, had seen his eyes, and had felt his wet touch on his face, but what truly drove home that Derek was not human, was the water he was mopping up here.

With his kitchen back in order, John took the bottle and his glass over to the living room.

He woke up when somebody was banging at this door.

"John?" Someone yelled through the door. "I know you're in there. Open the damn door!"

John rubbed his face and smacked his lips, not sure what was going on. The sour aftertaste of vomit lingered in the back of his throat and his mouth felt too dry. He squinted against the bright light which his muddy brain only with a delay recognized as daylight. It had to be past noon if the sun was shining through this window. John got into a more upright position and for a moment he was just sitting on the couch with his head hanging.

His head hurt and he felt like throwing up and he just wanted to crawl into a corner and die. But there was still the banging at the door.

"John!" That someone was persistent. "Get your ass over here and open the door!"

"Go away," John muttered and rubbed his face in the faint hope to get more alert.

"Your shift started an hour ago," the person told him through the door. Now John recognized the voice as Mark's.

"Crap." With his elbows on his knees, John breathed through a wave of nausea but then he slowly made his way over to the door.

"You look like shit." Mark looked him up and down and waved his hand in front of his nose to lessen the impact of John's body odor. John glared at him, he wasn't reeking that badly. Or maybe he was. He didn't know and he didn't care. His mouth tasted as if something had died in there and the light was still bright enough to make his eyes water, he truly did not care what the other man thought of him.

"C'mon, let's sober you up." Mark shooed him back into the house. "Brush your teeth, shave, and take a shower, I'll see if you have a clean uniform somewhere. And food, you need something in your stomach."

John wanted to protest but he didn't have the energy for that so he just shuffled into the bathroom and did as instructed. He did feel better when he came down the stairs not much later, cleaned up and fully dressed.

"Here, that has to do for now." Mark shoved a cup of coffee and a slice of dry toast at him. "We have to go."

John ate the toast and drank the coffee while he waited for Mark to lecture him. With his head clearer than a few minutes ago, he knew how this looked. And he didn't even have an excuse, this was exactly what it looked like.

"I know things have been rough for you," Mark started and John couldn't help but roll his eyes. "But you can't do this when you have to work the next day."

"So I have your permission to do it when I have a day off?" John raised an amused eyebrow at him. He was hardly the only officer who needed a drink or two to get through the day but most were close to retirement and had seen too much shit over the years. He wasn't even thirty and still the rookie, he should be bright-eyed and full of enthusiasm to change the world.

"I can hardly stop you." Mark took the empty cup from him and put it in the sink. Which reminded him of Derek. John had kind of hoped that the alcohol would help him to forget about that nonsense but by now he was inclined to believe what Stiles had told him. He just didn't know what to do with that information. He couldn't tell anybody about this, that much was clear.

"Stop daydreaming." Mark snapped his fingers in front of his face. "The sheriff wants us to check out the lake. Somebody has seen people out there, they might be camping. After what happened last time Thompson wants them gone."