Author's Note: Takes place in early season 3, after they get Boyd back. Didn't include Cora because I just didn't want to. And I never seem to find a place for Peter either.

It actually started off kind of funny, if you asked Stiles. He hadn't actually seen it in person, since he was never invited to the wolves only training runs through the woods. He may not have been a wolf, but he still found it very discriminatory. But at least Scott had been there and later told him all the details.

There was a little creek that cut through part of the woods that Derek liked to run alongside. Why? Stiles wasn't sure. It wasn't like Derek appreciated things like ambiance. But that didn't matter at this point. What mattered was Derek slipping on a rock and taking a header into the water. And apparently he'd hit his head just right and knocked himself clean out. Couldn't have been more than two inches of water and Derek was unconscious, face down in it.

He was fine, of course, because he rarely went anywhere without his wolfy entourage. Boyd had immediately splashed in after him, dragging him out of the water and pulling him onto dry ground. Isaac had cushioned Derek's head in his lap, checking his top half for injuries while Boyd checked the bottom. Scott sheepishly admitted he'd mostly watched from afar, too shocked to do anything. Derek never fell. Sure, he got thrown more often than was considered normal, but never falling on his own.

Boyd had carried him back to the loft, with Isaac fluttering around them like a new mother letting someone hold her baby for the first time. Stiles was sure Derek would love that analogy. He'd woken up right after they'd gotten him upstairs, with a lingering headache and a massive amount of confusion. Scott had let Boyd give him the bare bones explanation, since he was the best at being direct and to the point. Scott had left the two Betas to watch over their Alpha, slipping out the door just as Derek was batting away Isaac's bag of ice.

It was a little less funny when Scott was leaving his house after telling him the story, sliding through his bedroom window like all the wolves seemed to do, and somehow lost his grip and fell awkwardly to the ground. Stiles heard the bone snapping from his desk chair. He rushed over to the window, looking down to see his best friend lying dumbfounded in the grass with one of his legs bent in a way that would have Gumby quaking.

Other than that he was fine. At least he was after he made Stiles pull the bone back into proper alignment. And when Stiles recovered from his slight fainting spell, they decided to head to the loft. Werewolf reflexes were supposed to be better than this. After barely avoiding a couple car accidents along the way, they finally made it to the loft. Which was in full chaos.

The smoke alarm was going off, which Stiles was shocked Derek even had in this place. He was waving a towel at a smoking pot on his stove, looking like someone straight out of an "I Love Lucy" rerun. Boyd was sitting in a daze next to one of the pillars, letting Isaac hold a rag to his wrist. Isaac had a nosebleed, but seemed mostly okay, until he turned his head to face the newcomers and Stiles' steps faltered.

"Isaac, is that a fork sticking out of your neck?" Stiles whispered, feeling his heart skip a beat.

"Yes," Isaac mumbled, swallowing thickly and making the utensil bob up and down.

"What's it doing there?" Stiles asked, frozen in place.

"Oh, you know. The drawer was full and we had to put it somewhere," Isaac muttered, his joking words a stark contrast to the terror shining in his eyes. Stiles had seen Isaac with more extreme holes stabbed into his body, but he could admit this one was a bit worrying.

"What the hell is going on?" Derek snapped, stomping into the room now that his crisis was taken care of.

"How should I know? I just got here!" Stiles yelled, throwing his hands up in the air. "How'd Isaac get that fork in his neck?" Derek pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Isaac, why haven't you pulled that out yet?" Derek sighed, turning to face his sheepish Beta.

"Isn't it better to leave things like this in?" Isaac asked, biting his lip.

"You're a werewolf, I don't think that applies anymore," Derek growled.

"Hey, be nice to him! He and Boyd took care of you earlier," Scott said, shooting Derek a disgruntled look. "I'll help you Isaac." Scott took about two strides forward before he was flat on his face, either forgetting about the steps down or flat out not able to get down them properly.

"Everyone just stay where you are," Stiles commanded, carefully walking over to where Isaac and Boyd were sitting. Boyd seemed more with it now, but he was letting Isaac continue to hold his arm. Isaac moaned as he got closer, but didn't try to get away. "You ready for this?"

"Yeah," Isaac whimpered, closing his eyes.

"Like a splinter," Stiles shrugged off, bracing Isaac with one hand against his shoulder. He wrapped his hand carefully around the handle, blowing out a breath in anticipation. "Piece of cake." The fork came out easy enough, but was followed by a stream of blood that shot right into his face.

"Oh shit!" Boyd shouted, very uncharacteristically. He scooted away from the scene on his butt, tossing his already soaked towel in their direction. Stiles wrapped his hands around Isaac's throat, feeling his grip slipping in all the slick blood. How much blood could a werewolf lose before they died? How long was a little puncture wound going to take to heal? Did the fork have three prongs or four? Had Isaac always been that pale?

"Someone get me something to help stop the bleeding!" Stiles demanded, supporting Isaac as he started listing to the side. A shirt hit him in the face and Stiles grabbed it, bunching it up to press against Isaac's neck. He vaguely noticed it was Derek's shirt, and that he was now hovering over his shoulder. Stiles could worry about Derek's bare nipples later, right now he needed to focus on Isaac and the fact that his lips were slowly turning blue.

"I don't feel good," Isaac murmured, his eyes glazing over.

"Don't talk!" Derek ordered, and while that was good advice, his tone needed a little work.

"Don't yell at him!" Scott shouted, and really, was now the time for fighting?

"Everyone, shut up!" Stiles hissed, glancing back at Scott. "Call Deaton. Something is going on and we need answers. Hell, call everyone. We need to see if this is affecting anyone else and if it isn't, I'm going to need their help."

"Help with what?" Scott asked, pulling out his cell phone. Stiles sighed, shifting the shirt so a cleaner side was against Isaac's neck.

"Help with keeping you all from killing yourselves."