It probably was a stupid idea, especially after Derek had almost drowned Nancy, but John had promised to see what he could do to arrange a meeting between Dean and Derek. He could at least ask. If Derek wanted to see Dean was a whole different matter.
"Why does he want to talk to me?" Derek asked. He tilted his head in what might be confusion but his eyes stayed unreadable.
"I think he wants to get to know you." John tried to remember what exactly Dean had said. It seemed like ages ago but in fact, it had only been yesterday. "He might be willing to drop this but he wants to get an impression on you. You know, personally and not what some books say about you."
Derek nodded, clearly thinking about it.
"Dunno if that still stands, though," John added with a sigh. "I'm kind of hoping that they don't find out about Nancy but I doubt it."
"I'm sorry," Derek said in a low voice. "I didn't mean to but she was suddenly there and with Agnes earlier …" He wasn't trying to excuse what he'd done, he was just stating facts. Talking to Agnes, making contact with the pack again, that had not only taken a toll on Stiles. Sometimes one just needed to relieve some stress. Sometimes one just had to give in to temptation. John reached for his glass and took a sip. He got it. He didn't like it but he got it.
"She knew that it's dangerous to swim in the lake," John said. "The alpha gave out a reminder that the pack doesn't go there and with what happened the other day he had something to back it up with. Kids just tend to take statements like that as a challenge."
"What about Agnes and the alpha?" Derek asked after a long moment of silence. "Are they mad at me?"
"Mark is beating himself up for losing control and Agnes tries to stay diplomatic," John said. However, he hadn't forgotten about Agnes' little outburst. On some level, she was blaming Derek.
In his mind, John went over his conversation with Agnes. If he was honest, he didn't know what she was thinking. Derek had almost drowned a member of her pack with almost being the crucial part here and it had been Stiles who'd saved her. On the other side, Nancy had gone into the water specifically because it was dangerous and Mark had injured Stiles badly enough for him to stay at the bottom of the lake for days. If John were in Agnes' place he would drop it and pray that Derek would do the same but he wasn't directly involved. Things like this were always easier from the outside.
"What about you?" John asked. "Are you mad at Mark or the pack?"
"Mark hurt Stiles," Derek said in an eery low voice. "When he came for me in the water, I wanted him to attack me. I wanted to drag him down with me." He paused, clearly fighting with himself. "I only saw how bad it was when Stiles was with me again. He was barely alive. Mark Hale has tried to murder Stiles." His eyes fogged over in pale blue. "I wanted to kill him for that."
Chills ran down John's spine. With a shaking hand, he finished his drink. He had kind of forgotten that the person sitting on his couch was not human at all. John was just grateful that he wasn't the target of Derek's wrath.
He gulped down the whiskey too quickly and got it in the wrong pipe. He coughed with watering eyes and when he looked back at Derek, his eyes were back to normal.
"But you won't?" John dared to asked once he could breathe again. "Kill him, I mean?"
"Stiles doesn't want me to."
"That's good." John didn't know what else to say. Derek could crawl out of any faucet, if he decided to come after him, Mark was dead.
"I'm going to see Dean Winchester now." Derek stood, apparently the conversation was over.
"I would love to be a fly on the wall for that."
"If he says something you need to know I'll tell you," Derek promised.
"Thank you." John stood as well. "Tell Stiles that I want to hear from him."
Derek nodded and a minute later John stood in his kitchen, looking at the trail of water he had to mop up now. And he probably should work over his couch with some towels before it got moldy.
Sleep didn't come easy that night. The picture of Stiles, pale and bloody, haunted his dreams and in the morning John woke up feeling more tired than before. There was still no sign of life from Stiles but Derek had said that he might need another day so John didn't worry too much.
His mind was on Mark anyway. He still didn't know how to deal with his partner.
John went to work with mixed feelings.
Mark didn't come to work at all. He'd called in sick.
"He's never sick," John said but Sheriff Thompson just shrugged and sent him on patrol alone. It wasn't unusual, they didn't have that many deputies and at times John preferred being alone in the car but today it felt wrong. Werewolves didn't fall ill.
It was a quiet morning and alone in his car John had time to mull things over. Mark was either avoiding him or this had something to do with the exercises in control Agnes had mentioned. John didn't like either.
John drove out to the lake but Stiles wasn't in his cabin. John hadn't expected to find him here but one could hope.
Morbid curiosity drew him out to the shore where they had found Nancy. The grass was still flattened from too many feet stomping around but John didn't find any blood. He could have sworn that the patch of grass looked like somebody had been slaughtered there, which was not that far from the truth, but Stiles had been sitting in the water and it had washed away all traces of red.
Deep in thoughts, John picked up the branch he'd hit Mark with. There he did find blood. Yesterday he hadn't even noticed but he'd hit his partner hard enough to break the skin.
John threw the branch into the water, he didn't want something with blood on it just lying around, before he turned around and walked back to his car.
The whole day, John felt like he was underwater. The irony of that wasn't lost on him.
He didn't hear from anybody, it was calm on all fronts. He didn't expect to hear from Stiles or Derek, even if he was eager to hear about Derek's talk with Dean. The Winchesters didn't have a reason to contact him either and if he was honest, he didn't want to hear from Agnes or the pack in general. Maybe a sign of life from Mark but John still didn't know where they stood after yesterday so if he got some time to figure things out he would take it.
He drove to the hospital to check on Nancy who was about the get released.
She was more worried about her friends than about herself and it didn't help when John had to tell her that they might face more severe consequences than just being grounded.
"It's not on me to decide that." John raised his hands in defense. Her friends had left her to die and still she was worried about them but maybe she hadn't comprehended that fact yet.
While talking to the parents, John sneaked in a question about Mark but they didn't know anything either. John believed them, they had most likely stayed at Nancy's side all night and he doubted that anybody had bothered them with something trivial like this.
John finished his shift and he went home to his empty house. The silence threatened to crush him the second he stepped through the door. He wasn't proud of it but first thing was a stiff drink to calm his nerves.
It felt like the calm before the storm. John just wanted for something to happen already. He wanted to hear from Stiles and by now he would like to hear from Mark as well. He just hoped that he would be in tomorrow. He wanted for the hunters to leave Beacon Hills and hell if he knew what he wanted Agnes to do.
John put a frozen meal in the microwave which he ate in front of the TV. At least the noise helped with the silence. After dinner, John got comfortable in Claudia's chair with her cardigan over his knee and his glass within easy reach. When it became dark he didn't turn on the lights. The bluish light from the TV was enough to make out his close surroundings and the rest of the house was dark and empty anyway. John didn't know what he was watching, there were just moving pictures on the screen and a buzzing noise in his ears while his mind drifted. To Claudia, to Stiles. Those were the most prominent on his mind. Dying in completely different ways but dying nevertheless. Claudia wouldn't come back but John hoped that Stiles would. He had to.
At some point his bottle was empty but when he got up to get a new one, he stumbled over his own feet and crashed to the floor. It didn't even hurt. He was just wondering why he was suddenly looking at the underside of the couch table.
"I just need a moment," John said to nobody in particular. He wasn't sure if getting up was worth the effort so he decided to just stay where he was until he'd figured it out.
"Damn, you're a mess."
John blinked his eyes open. The world wasn't at the right angle but it took him long seconds to remember that he was lying on the floor. In a puddle of his own vomit, he realized a moment later.
"Can you get up?" Somebody asked. Legs came into his line of view and there was a hand on his shoulder, urging him up.
"Stiles?" John didn't trust his bleary eyes but the person helping him to his feet looked a lot like Stiles.
"Yeah, it's me," Stiles confirmed. He dumped John in the chair where John immediately hunched down, dry-heaving. His stomach did not like the sudden change of position.
"You with me again?" Stiles asked. He kept a strong hand on John's shoulder to prevent him from toppling over.
John dared to nod but it caused a new wave of nausea.
"What time is it?" He asked with bile pooling in the back of his throat. He tried to swallow against it but he might be sick again.
"Almost three," Stiles answered. "Wasn't sure if I should bother you in the middle of the night but I had the feeling that I should check on you. Derek said that you aren't taking it well that I stayed under for a few days. If he picked up on that, it has to be bad." He paused when John heaved again but there was only bile coming up. "Didn't think that it is this bad."
"I'm glad you're here," John managed to say. He even dared to lift his head enough to look at Stiles. He was dripping wet but his shirt didn't have bloodstains on it and the only reason he looked so pale was that the TV was still the only source of light. At least John hoped that was the reason.
"Think you can stand?" Stiles asked. "You should clean up and then you should go to bed. When do you have to get up in the morning?"
It took John way too long to remember that he had a late shift tomorrow, he could sleep in.
Stiles helped him up the stairs and shoved him into the bathroom.
"Brush your teeth and wash your face," Stiles told him. "You can shower in the morning. Don't pass out again."
John did as instructed. He even got out of his soiled shirt and wiped down his chest before he called it a day and stumbled over to the bedroom. By now his head was pulsing with a headache and he just wanted to sleep.
"There are painkillers and a glass of water on the nightstand," Stiles informed him, watching him like a hawk, ready to catch him if he decided to face-plant again. John half-expected him to tuck him in but Stiles stayed at the door.
"Will you be there in the morning?" John asked and he hated how needy he sounded.
"I'll be there," Stiles assured him and with that John closed his eyes and let himself sink into the pillow.