Paper Bandages

Chapter 6: Night Watch

Stiles wasn't quite sure what to make of the hunter. He had met both cruel (Kate) and pretty decent (Chris) hunters in his life, but this guy just seemed so… unprofessional.

He and Derek had been heading over to an old gas station to find food and supplies when they had seen the man passed out in the black car with the broken window. He had gone over to see if the guy was okay, when the man had suddenly awoken and began randomly hyperventilating.

Stiles, of all people, knew exactly what a panic attack was, so he had slapped the guy before it could really take hold.

The man had promptly opened the door to vomit on Stiles' feet. Like, grateful much?

While he had been standing there awkwardly, Derek had trotted around to the driver's side and had been sniffing around. After a couple of moments, he had turned to Stiles and nodded grimly.

Great. Demons.

So now they were stuck with this enormous hunter who seemed vaguely unstable. Who was pining for his older brother. Who was taken by demons.

What had happened to his life? It had all started when his dad-

Nope. Bad subject. New topic, Stiles.

Too late. Already he could hear his father's harsh breathing, his exasperated tone, Stiles, please shut up. If they find us because you won't stop asking if I'm alright, then I really won't be.

And he hadn't been, because he had been eaten alive. All because Stiles couldn't shut up.

Distantly, he wondered if he was being hypocritical in saying the hunter was unstable.

Stiles checked his solar-powered watch mechanically. Six minutes until Derek's shift. They had camped out for the night at the gas station when it became obvious that the hunter was going nowhere.

Stiles wasn't quite sure when it was decided that he would join their group, but he figured it would all work in the end. Strength of the pack and all that.

Damn. Bad subject again.

Well, no. Derek was his only pack, and believe it or not, the sourwolf had gotten him through some tough times.

But once upon a time, pack had meant Scott and Lydia and Malia and Liam and Kira and sort-of Deaton and Melissa and Parrish and even longer before that was Isaac and Allison and not-quite Erica and Boyd and not-really Cora and Jackson and definitely-not Peter and Theo. Of course, his very first pack had been his mom and his d- and wasn't it strange how Stiles had that whole pack-mentality thing going on? It was like running with wolves (and kanimas and banshees and coyotes and chimeras and-) had made him one of them, except he was still human, still oh so human and oh so breakable just like his old packs, all of them, who had been able to talk and laugh with him (or at him), and they didn't communicate with just wolfy eyebrows and-

But Derek was alive, so there was that.

Stiles breathed, a careful inhale and exhale.

Ha. InHALE. ExHALE. Derek HALE.

Oh, look at the time. It was Derek's turn to lie awake with his thoughts, and Stiles turn for nightmares. Joy.

He felt kinda bad for the hunter dude though, because he was pretty sure the guy was still awake and making sure they wouldn't do anything. But he knew nothing good would come from calling attention to the fact, and he silently tapped the top of Derek's left front paw four times, so the wolf would know it was Stiles waking him and wouldn't try to rip his throat out.

Derek's eyes snapped open, and the two switched places as they did with everything.

In silence.