John woke up with a pounding headache and a sour taste in his mouth. He squinted at the too-bright light in the room, trying to figure out what time it was. Late in the morning if the sun was shining through this window. With a groan, John pulled the blanket over his head to shield his eyes.

He peeked out from under the blanket to get a more accurate time from the alarm clock on the nightstand. He wasn't late yet but if he wanted to pass as human when he arrived at work, he needed to get going soon.

He hid under the blanket for another five minutes, drifting in and out of it while his heartbeat pulsed in his ears. His headache would only get worse when he stood up but eventually, his bladder forced him out of bed.

He didn't remember how he'd ended up in bed, though, in his last clear memory he was sitting in Claudia's chair.

Under the hot jets of water in the shower, John's mind cleared up a bit. The headache still pulsed behind his eyes but he'd had worse.

Had Stiles been there last night? He thought that he remembered him helping him up the stairs but that might have been wishful thinking.

John showered, brushed his teeth, and his hands were even steady enough to not cut himself with the razor. By the time he made it downstairs in a fresh uniform, he did feel human again.

On the stairs, he noticed the smell of coffee. For a second he was sure that he was hallucinating but then he heard noises coming from the kitchen. By now he associated noises from the kitchen with Derek and he took a long moment wondering why the Nöck would be making coffee before his brain came up with another explanation.

"Stiles?" John asked but his voice was too low and raspy to carry far. John hurried down the rest of the stairs, almost missing the last one in his haste, and stumbled into the kitchen.

"Stiles!" John just stood in the door and couldn't believe his eyes. Stiles was sitting at the table with a mug of coffee and John's research spread out in front of him.

"Told you I would stay." Stiles grinned at him while he looked him up and down, taking in his appearance. John would have been annoyed if he weren't doing the same. Stiles' face had a healthy color and even in bright daylight, John didn't notice any blood on his shirt. Stiles was sitting relaxed, with no indication that he was in pain.

"How are you?" John asked and stepped closer.

"Was about to ask you the same." Stiles gave him one last once-over before he stood up. "I have coffee and dry toast for you. Figured you wouldn't be up for more."

A minute later John sat at the table with his breakfast in front of him. Looking at the toast alone made him feel nauseous but Stiles was right, he should get something solid into this stomach. At least there was the bottle of painkillers next to his plate.

John washed down two pills with a gulp of coffee and then he just sat there, slumped down and with his eyes closed until he was sure that the pills wouldn't come right up again.

"Have you been here the whole night?" He finally asked.

"I promised you I would." Stiles sat down with a fresh cup of coffee as well. "Cleaned up the living room, watched some TV. Man, I'm telling you TV at that hour is weird. Then I found this." He gestured over the notes and books on the table.

"I have some more in the safe," John offered. Bits and pieces from last night came back to him. "I'm sorry, I never wanted you to see me like that."

"No worries." Stiles dismissed him. "But if I don't have to clean up your puke ever again, I'd be happy."

John shrank into himself at that, shame burning hot in his cheeks.

"What did I miss?" Stiles asked. "Derek said the girl is okay?"

Grateful for the change of topic John brought him up to date. Not that there was much to tell. John hadn't seen anybody yesterday and his day had been way too normal for his liking.

"Werewolves don't get sick," Stiles said when John mentioned that Mark hadn't been in yesterday.

"I know." John let out a sigh. "I just don't know what to think of it. If he's not in today, I'm going to check on him after my shift."

John kept glancing at Stiles, the image of the gashes across his chest vividly in his mind. But Stiles was moving around just fine, he wasn't favoring one side, and he didn't look in pain at all.

"Mark got you good." John tried to not too openly look at Stiles. He hadn't known how to approach that topic but since they were talking about Mark anyway …

Stiles' face darkened and unconsciously his hand sneaked up to his stomach.

"He did," Stiles said, his fingers spread wide over his front just like the other day when he'd tried to keep the blood in. "I might have died for a second there. Not sure, lost a lot of blood and I blacked out for a while." A haunted look crossed his face but then he blinked and shook it off. "Anyway, I'm fine now."

"You sure?" John tried to not think too hard about the might have died part in Stiles' statement. "I can take you to the hospital, get you checked out, just to make sure."

"Thanks, but I'm fine," Stiles said, and to prove his point he lifted his shirt.

"What?" John had expected the wounds to be scrapped over, maybe looking a week old but he was not prepared for smooth skin. There were no scars, no tender new flesh, not even pink lines. Just unbroken skin, pale as the rest of Stiles and sprinkled with freckles.

"How?" John blinked, he must be dreaming. Maybe he was still drunker than he thought.

"They can harm me but they can't make it stick." Stiles dropped his shirt. "I fucking hate werewolves. We should sic those hunters on them, just saying."

"You don't mean that." John nibbled at his toast and when it didn't cause a wave of nausea, he took a real bite. "Derek wanted to come after Mark and you held him back."

"He told you that?" Stiles seemed surprised but at least his murderous expression softened a bit. John wasn't so sure that he was joking about sending the Winchesters after the pack. Or at least after Mark.

… might have died for a second … The echo of Stiles' words sent shivers down John's spine.

"Derek wanted to come after Mark," Stiles said. "He's kind of protective of me and once he saw how bad it was, Derek wanted to kill him."

"But you said no." John studied him for a long moment. He was hungover and his head was still pounding with every beat of his heart but he didn't need to be up to one-hundred percent to catch the murder in Stiles' eyes. Mark had hurt him and he wanted him to pay.

"Why?" John added after a moment.

"I don't want Derek to kill." Defeated Stiles slumped back in his chair. "It's in his nature to drown the people who are dumb enough to go for a swim in his lake but that doesn't mean he likes it."

John nodded in understanding. Derek had been so relieved when he'd heard that Nancy had survived. John remembered their conversation on the pier. Derek didn't want to kill and he felt guilty for every time he hadn't been able to resist.

"You don't want to put that on his consciousness." Derek was not the only protective one in this weird relationship these two had.

"Mark is still my partner," John reminded him. "I know he fucked up but can we agree on not killing him? Besides, I'm an officer of the law it's my job to prevent things like that."

"You sure that you still want him as your partner?" Stiles' face became guarded while he waited for John to answer.

"He regrets what happened," John said carefully. He knew that it wasn't an excuse for what Mark had done but he wanted Stiles to know.

"I bet." Stiles snorted.

John thought back to that day. They both had been kind of under shock and had stuck to professionalism to get through the day. But even now, with some distance, John found that he was more worried about Mark than he was afraid of him.

"I want to talk to him first," John finally said.

"Fair enough." Stiles nodded but he didn't look happy with that answer.

"Do I have to choose?" John asked quietly. "Between you and Mark? What he's done to you, there's no excuse. If you can't stand me being friends with both of you, I would understand."

Where he stood with Mark he didn't know. He was willing to give Mark a second chance but he didn't know if Mark wanted to be his partner any longer. How did the pack handle somebody losing control like this anyway? Maybe he was sent off to relatives in Albania already.

"You don't have to choose," Stiles said after a long moment and got up to refill their cups. "But I'm not keen on seeing him ever again. If I don't see another werewolf for at least a century I'd be happy."

"Things will calm down soon." John held out his cup for the refill. If he wanted to get through his shift he needed as much caffeine in his system as possible. "Once the Winchesters have left Beacon Hills …" He made a vague gesture. "That reminds me, did Derek talk to Dean?"

"Man, I'm so mad that he didn't take me with him." Stiles sat down and reached for John's half-eaten toast. John was slow, getting drunk on a work night was not a good idea, but he still managed to save his toast from grabby hands.

Stiles made a face but got up again to get some toast for himself. For a brief second, John wondered when he'd last eaten and he opened his mouth to offer dinner tonight but Stiles spoke first.

"Derek tracked him down in a bar. Can you believe that? Derek? In a bar?" Stiles snorted while he fought with the package of bread.

"Is that safe?" John waited for the plastic bag to rip but Stiles managed to get two slices of bread out without collateral damage.

"For him or the people at the bar?" Stiles asked but didn't wait for John to clarify. "He's not going to kill random people. And he's passing enough, especially in the dim light of a bar, nobody noticed that he's not human."

"Would have loved to see that." The thought alone was just surreal.

"That's what I'm telling you." Stiles successfully put the bread in the toaster and sat down with his coffee while he waited. "Derek says that Dean spilled his beer when he sat down across from him. When he got a fresh one he offered Derek a beer as well, though. I guess he was not completely freaking out."

"What did they talk about?" John wondered.

"Dean didn't know about Nancy so Derek told him about that. As proof that he wasn't trying to hide something."

"Probably a good call," John agreed. The Winchesters would have found out sooner or later anyway. "How did Dean take it?"

The incident was not helping their case. One second John was reassuring the Winchesters that he had everything under control and the next second Derek almost drowned another person.

"Derek didn't want to talk about it." Stiles let out a sigh. "Nor about what Dean wanted from him. He's not a talker." Stiles cracked a smile.

"I noticed." John flinched when the toaster popped out the bread which got him a laugh from Stiles. "Would be nice to know what the Winchesters are going to do next."

"Leaving would be nice." Stiles put a thick layer of butter on his toast which he covered with half a glass of raspberry jam. John made a mental note to feed him more regularly again.

"We'll see." John glanced at the clock, he should get going. "First I want to know what's up with Mark."

Stiles followed his gaze. "Derek should be here soon. Keep me updated?"

"I'm going to be home late but you can come over for a later dinner if you want to."

Of course, he wanted.

When John left for work, Stiles still sat at the kitchen table, munching on his toast while he was skimming through John's research. John just hoped that he wouldn't find it sticky with raspberry jam later.