His instincts kicked in at once as he noticed the dog in the middle of his lane. His instincts, however, failed to kick in when he was hurtling towards the tree. There was a large crunching noise as the front end of his jeep was decimated against the tree, and then there was nothing.

No noise.

No feeling.

Only darkness.

When Stiles woke the only two things he was aware of was the pain in his chest and the blinding migraine. He tried to move after a minute of sitting still only to instantly decide that that was a bad decision. His legs were restricted by his smashed in car to move much anyway. Stiles reached for his front pocket, wincing the whole time, and retrieved his phone. He hit speed-dial number two and waited.

"Stiles?" A rough voice questioned. "Why are you calling, you're supposed to be driving to Seattle."

"Derek." His voice came out small and hurt. "Crashed," he whispered. Every breath he took in hurt like hell.

"Where are you Stiles?!" On his end Derek was already climbing into his black Camaro. The engine purred to life after a second, and he pulled out of his driveway.

"Off the highway I think. I can't really remember Derek." After a moment of silence his voice came again much softer, "I'm tired Derek."

"Stiles you gotta stay awake I'm on my way." His speedometer crept upwards toward eighty after he turned onto the highway. "What exit Stiles?" Derek's question was met with silence from Stiles' end. "Stiles!" He roared into the phone.

"Derek?"

"What exit did you take Stiles?"

"Twenty something?" Stiles guessed as he looked around through hazy eyes for any road signs.

"Twenty what Stiles? I need to know or I can't find you." Derek's mind was racing as he sped down the half empty highway, passing cars left and right.

"Seven, now stop yelling at me, my brain hurts." Stiles hung up after that and fell back into unconsciousness.

"Stiles? STILES?! Oh for christ sake I'm going to kill him."

Derek took exit twenty-seven and drove up North Hamilton Street for a while before he finally found the jeep; if you could still call it that. The front end was completely smashed in and there was smoke billowing from the hood. Before he even pulled over he could see Stiles slumped against his seat. Derek was out of his car before it had stopped completely and was running towards the jeep. He pulled the door open and examined what lay inside.

There was blood everywhere, spilling from his head, his abdomen, and his arm. The head injury he figured was from slamming his head against the wheel. When Derek lifted his shirt he could see the blood was from where a rib was poking out of his skin, the same with his arm where he must have hit it against the dash.

"Stiles? We need to get you to the hospital." The large man reached in and grabbed Stiles under the knees and behind his back and carefully lifted him out of the car. The boy moaned at the pain, but kept his eyes squeezed shut tight. As Derek carried him to his car, the veins in his arm turn a dark black color, in an attempt to soothe Stiles' pain.

"Derek?"

"Shhhh," Derek responded as he laid the boy down in his back seat. "The hospital is only a few miles away we'll be there in no time."

"Why are you helping me?" Stiles asked as Derek climbed back into the driver's seat.

"You called me Stiles, I wasn't going to leave you on the side of the road to bleed out." Stiles let out a small laugh that turned into a groan as he clutched his side tightly.

"No I mean why would you save me if you hate me?" They came to a red light and Derek turned back to look at him, sprawled across his backseat; blood soaking into the upholstery.

"You may annoy the shit out of me Stiles, but I haven't hated you for awhile." He turned back towards the road as the light turned green but continued to talk. "You've saved mine and my sister's life on a number of occasions, why would I hate you when I owe you my life."

"You've saved me too," Stiles mumbled lowly catching his eye in the rearview mirror.

"How's the pain?" Derek questioned changing the subject.

"On a scale of 'meh' to 'holy fucking christ,' I'm at about a "fuuuuck.'" Stiles responded lifting his hand from his side. "That's a lot of blood Derek, I get really squeamish around this kind of stuff."

"I know, and I'm begging you not to puke in my car. Just give me your hand Stiles." Derek's arm stretched out between the driver and passenger seat so stiles could grasp it tightly.

"I don't think I can move my arm Derek," Stiles moaned as he attempted to reach his left arm out towards Derek.

"I know Stiles, why don't you give me your other hand?"

"That's really smart." He responded as he reached across his body with his other arm. Once his hand was in Derek's the mans veins flashed black once again and the pained expression on Stiles' face faded away. Derek withdrew his hand as they slowed around a corner and pulled into the emergency section of the hospital. Once the car was stopped Derek jumped out and ran around the side to open the backseat. As soon as he had the teen cradled in his arms he kicked the door shut and walked at a quick pace towards the automatic doors. At once a nurse was running towards him yelling to get a gurney.

"What happened?" She-her name tag read Mary- asked as they waited for the gurney to arrive.

"I'm not sure, other than the fact that he wrapped his jeep around a tree." Two other nurses arrived then rolling a gurney between the two of them. Derek laid Stiles down carefully on it and began to run next to the nurses as they wheeled him down the hall.

"Sir you're going to have to stay here," said Mary as they started pushing him through the double doors.

"No I can't just leave him, he's terrified of the kind of stuff. What if something happens-"

"You're boyfriend will be fine, I promise, but he have to let us do our job." And with that the nurses, and Stiles, were gone.

"He's not my-" Derek called but stopped once they were out of ear shot and stood there watching the doors swing back and forth until they came to a close.

Five hours and six cups of coffee later, Derek was brought back to see him. He was lying down but awake when Derek walked in the hospital room. There was a bandage wrapped around his head and a cast on his left arm, and he couldn't see it, but was positive there were matching bandages around his torso.

"Derek?" Stiles mumbled when he lifted his head to see the man standing in his doorway.

"Hey." Derek said smiling at the teen.

"Would you come over here? It hurts to strain my neck like this."

"Sure," he responded crossing the room and pulling a chair up to the side of his bed so he could sit next to him. Silence settled over them for a moment before Derek asked him the question he'd been dying to ask since he had received his phone call. "Why did you call me Stiles?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well you could have called Scott, or your Dad, but you called me. Why?" Stiles looked at him for a minute before replying.

"Because I knew you'd get there the fastest."

"Stiles. Scott could have gotten here just as quickly as I did, who did you call me?" Stiles covered his face was his hand as a bad attempt to disappear.

"Stiles," his eyes peeked out from between his fingers.

"Cause I needed you Derek." He mumbled low enough that he hoped he couldn't hear, momentarily forgetting about the werewolf senses.

"Stiles." His chestnut eyes peaked out from between his fingers.

"What?" Derek took his hand in his and gave him a small smile.

"I'm glad you called, I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't gotten there in time. You could have a punctured a lung or bled to death or-" Stiles cut him off with a squeeze to his hand.

"I'm all good Derek, it's gonna take a lot more to kill me." Derek gave him a smile and a nod and released his hand.

"I'm gonna go call your dad; let him know not to expect you in Seattle."

"Would you tell him to enjoy his trip, and not come home? I don't want him to cut his vacation short on my account; he definitely deserves one after the hell we've been through this year." Derek nodded in agreement and left the room pulling his phone out of his pocket.

"Stilinski."

"Sheriff, its Derek Hale." He heard a rustling on the other end of the line that sounded like unpacking.

"Derek? Did something happen?"

"Stiles was in an accident; he had to get stitches in his head, and he fractured his arm and a couple of ribs. Stiles insists that you stay in Seattle, and I agree with him. You deserve a vacation after everything that's happened this year."

"Like hell, I'll be home by tomorrow." He could hear more rustling on the other end and assumed it was the sheriff repacking his bag.

"Sir I promise I will take care of him, please stay put."

"He's going to throw a huge fit if I try to come home isn't he?" Derek let out a low chuckle and threw a smile back towards Stiles' room.

"I think you're right sir."

"And he'll stay with you, correct?"

"Of course sir, and I'll call Melissa if I need anything." Sheriff Stilinski let out a groan and began removing things from his bag again. "Call me if you need me."

"Of course sir, I'll have Stiles call you as soon as he can."

"Thanks Derek, I'll see you in two weeks. If not sooner." The sheriff hung up and Derek returned his phone to his pocket.

"This is going to be a long couple of weeks," Derek muttered before walking back down the hallway towards Stiles.