Despite the fact that the nogitsune had been defeated and was no longer syphoning Stiles' life force from his body, anyone could have been able to tell that he was still drained from the absolute hell his body had been through for nearly two months which is why Scott had taken the initiative to get Stiles home after the fight in the school, knowing that Noah would be at work for at least a few more hours and the main thing that his best friend needed now was sleep.

The silence on the drive was nearly deafening as Scott's mind swirled with grief about Allison, but he pushed it down. Kira had told him about what Stiles has said inside the walls of her house about how the only good thing after her death was that it looked like he was dying too and it had hurt just a bit too much when Stiles was ready to stab himself to save everyone else, most likely rooted in his guilt. 'I don't know if I can pull him off the edge if I bring her up.'

Luckily, the drive was a short one and they made it to the blue suburban quickly. Scott pulled the keys out and pressed them into Stiles' palm, waiting for them to disappear into his jeans pocket before getting out and helping Stiles into the house.

"Do you need any help?" Scott asked cautiously as the pair of them walked up the stairs after kicking off their shoes at the door.

"I can change my own clothes, Scott," Stiles assured as they arrived at his bedroom and he closed the door, "I'm not locking it though in case I, you know, faint again."

Scott couldn't stop the soft chuckle from escaping because he could finally believe that his best friend was back in full, or was at least getting there thanks to the sarcastic remark. After a few minutes, Stiles opened the door again, wearing a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt, allowing Scott to enter the room; the smell of dust was faint enough that Stiles probably couldn't smell it but it made his nose itch. The wall was still covered in pictures and red string, but it was seemingly ignored in favor of Stiles laying down in his bed, eyes already fluttering shut.

Scott took the initiative again and pulled the blue blanket over his friend's shoulders before laying his hand down, relieved that no pain was radiating into his own body, and whispering softly, "you can rest now," as he heard the soft snores leave his friend's body.

...

It had been a long time since Noah wanted to go home and drink straight from the whiskey bottle. Knowing that the hell that had become his life for the past two months was finally coming to an end was enough of a deterrent for him to walk past his small alcohol cabinet in the dining room and to his own room, however, ready to shed his blood stained uniform and lay down in his half empty queen bed when he saw the night light shining from his son's room.

His heart rate spiked for a moment as he remembered the hollow light of the Oni's eyes, but when he took another step and saw Scott's silhouette in the desk chair, his heart rate settled back into it's normal rhythm. He tip toed into the room, hearing the snores coming from his son before gently tapping Scott on the shoulder, seeing the slight twitch that indicated he was awake.

"Hey, sheriff," Scott mumbled as he rubbed his eyes, his whisper laced with exhaustion, "just watching over him."

"Thank you," Noah whispered back, "do you want to crash on the couch or something?"

"Gotta keep watch. Make sure he's safe."

"How about we sleep in shifts then? That way he's safe and you can get some shuteye for a few hours."

Scott hesitated and Noah had a feeling that he was remembering the time that he and Stiles suggested sleeping in shifts after a particularly nasty injury had landed Noah in the hospital but they both fell asleep two hours in and he woke up with both of them pressed against either side of him. But the teenaged werewolf relented and disappeared down the stairs with a "good night, sheriff" and Noah sat down in the desk chair where he had a perfect view of his son.

The nightlight reflected off his face in a way that showed just how much weight he had lost. How his face was too pale but his under eyes were a dark reddish color like a permanent bruise. If he hadn't been breathing so loudly, Noah would compare the white skin to a corpse. He didn't know how long he closed his eyes for, but he knew he couldn't wake up Scott after the events of the last 48 hours and so he just lifted his sore body from the desk chair and laid down in his own bed, still in his bloody uniform. He was too tired to care.

He shouldn't have been surprised when he woke up again to Scott pressed against his left side and Stiles curled up to his right side, but instead of even thinking about moving, he pulled his son closer to him to feel his warm body against his and assure himself that he was alive.

'We all need a day off from Beacon Hills.'