They were going to be whisked to the airport and taken back to Las Vegas in about half an hour, so Derek had asked Davis to give him and Stiles half an hour together without disturbing them.

They sat down on one of the beds, and put the burner phone in between them.

"Okay, give me your hand," Stiles said. "Just one. You'll need the other one open to smack me to keep me from revealing too much."

"We could change your ticket-"

Stiles shook his head. "Not the time, Derek." He held out his hand and Derek took it. He was distracted for a moment by how big and strong Stiles' hands were. He really had grown up.

Stiles punched in the number and after a few rings the Sheriff answered, "Stiles?"

Stiles' face fell at the urgency in his dad's voice—well, he couldn't have expected that his dad would be just fine with him taking off and not worried at all, could he?

"Yeah, it's me, dad. Hey," he said.

"Where the hell are you?" Stilinski asked.

Derek squeezed Stiles' hand. "Dad, I'm fine, and I'm not quite ready to come home yet. I just called to tell you it might be a couple of more weeks. No matter what, I'll be back by the beginning of school in January. I've already done my SATs and my college applications, and I'm working on my final projects for the semester."

"Stiles, you need to listen to me, kid. You're going to get on a bus or a plane and you're coming home right now!"

"I changed my mind about going away to school. Derek said he would become a deputy and protect you so I wouldn't have to worry."

"Well, that would be great. However, he's going to be dead the next time I see him, so he won't be able to fill any vacancies."

"I'm serious, Dad. I know you're mad at both of us, but we have to be doing what we're doing. Derek's life was in danger. I couldn't just turn my back on him," Stiles said.

"Stiles, Derek's an adult and a werewolf and you're just a human kid who needs to finish high school. And exactly how many times did Derek tell you he was fine and you could go home now?" Stilinski asked.

"Enough times that I'm sick of hearing about it," Stiles said. "Are you eating right? When's the last time you had a salad?"

"Stiles, I swear to god. You ran away from home. I'm not going to report to you on what I'm eating. I haven't had an appetite since you left. How bad of a father do you have to be to make a straight A student who you love more than your life run away from you?"

Derek wasn't very touchy-feely, but he got up and put his arm around Stiles at that point. The poor kid was in tears, and even Derek wasn't made of stone. "You raised me to help people. To protect people. Do you know how many times Derek has put his life on the line for me and Scott? The town in general? I can't just stop caring. He deserves to have someone who will look out for him the way he looks out for everyone."

Stilinski sighed heavily. He must have heard the tears in Stiles' voice, and he definitely must have known his words to be true. "You know I'll always be proud of you, son. I shouldn't let...it's stupid, but people talk when a kid goes missing. Runs away. It's hard to be a public servant and...but I know you, Stiles, and I know you're doing what you feel is right. I just wish you could do that around here."

"I love you so much, dad. I can't have you mad at me," Stiles said.

"Are you in any danger where you are?"

"No. I swear. I'm not in danger, and we're working on getting the situation resolved," Stiles said.

"Is Derek there?" he said.

"Yes sir," Derek said.

"Are you really willing to work for the Sheriff's office?"

"Yes sir," he said.

"And did this idea come about when you realized Stiles was going to join the Sheriff's department right out of high school in some misguided attempt to keep me safe?"

"Yes sir," Derek said. "But I think I'll like it. I mean, I've helped out with investigations in the past, as you know, and I feel like the job might be a good fit for me."

"Well, thank you for convincing Stiles to put himself first for once," Stilinski said. "And Derek?"

"Yes sir."

"You keep my boy safe. I don't want him to endure even a scratch or a harsh word. You keep him safe for me," Stilinski said.

Derek smiled at the irony that the only reason Stiles was even with him was to protect him, and his dad insisted on Derek promising to keep him safe. For some reason Stilinski didn't seem to realize how incredibly effective his son was, yet. Well, it had taken Derek years to realize it, himself.

"I swear, I'll keep him safe," Derek said.

"Dad, Derek and I have been watching each other's backs for years. We're a good team. We're pack. You don't have to tell either one of us to look out for each other," Stiles said.

"Just be careful, Stiles."

"I will be. You be careful, too. Is everything okay in Beacon Hills?"

"Well, it might be the lull before the storm, but no one has died lately. I love you, Stiles."

"I love you too, dad," Stiles said.

They hung up, and Derek wasn't surprised that Stiles didn't let go of Derek right away. He really let go with the crying, and Derek held him tight. Stiles clung to him even tighter, and Derek found himself nuzzling into the boy's neck, showing affection in a way that he hadn't for years—not since his mom had been alive. Stiles' crying slowed, then stopped, and Derek pulled back. He wiped a tear off of Stiles' face.

"You'll see him again, soon," Derek said.

"I hate disappointing him. And I hate when my being a shitty son makes him look bad at work."

"I'm sorry for dragging you into this," Derek said.

Stiles shook his head stoutly. "I meant what I said. The days of you having to deal with your problems on your own are done and gone. So get used to it."

Derek wondered if he ever would. He'd sort of gotten used to being able to call on Scott to help him, and the fact that Scott needed his help sometimes. But Stiles? Always being there, ready to help? It was a little bit unprecedented. Derek would have said thank you, but the lump in his throat wouldn't let him. He grabbed Stiles' elbow and squeezed briefly.

When they got back to Vegas, they got a hotel room that was nicer than where they'd stayed before and better for the authorities to try to protect Derek in. They were settling in and unpacking when Derek heard something.

He grabbed Stiles' arm and put a finger to his own lips. Stiles nodded and grabbed his phone, probably texting Davis while Derek went to the bathroom to investigate.

Derek opened the door, and a woman sprang onto him, making his breath whoosh out and knocking him over. He fell on the ground and she landed on him, so he rolled over so she was on the ground and he was on top of her and tried to restrain her.

She was slippery, though, and wiggled free enough to land a punch to Derek's kidney area. It hurt, and he involuntarily let his grip slacken. She took the opportunity to get even more free, and then tried to knee him in the groin. He dodged that, and pushed her against the floor, knocking her head, hard.

She looked dazed for a minute, and then suddenly Derek was on the floor and she was on top of him. She punched him in the face twice, and then was knocked off of him and landed on the floor, out cold.

Stiles was standing nearby holding the hotel phone.

"You hit her with that?"

"Yep," Stiles said.

"Thanks," Derek said.

He examined the woman. She was about Peter's age and fairly attractive. If he could say she looked like anyone he knew, he'd say she kind of looked like Scott's mom. Well, Scott's mom was totally Peter's type, so it stood to reason. She had short, dark-brown hair and good features, and she looked fit for her age. And the fact that she could hold her own in a fight with Derek certainly argued that she was fit as well.

"Did you call—"

The knock on the door interrupted Derek's question. "There's our police protection. Only a few minutes too late," Stiles said.

"You and I are not exactly helpless," Derek said.

"As long as we work together," Stiles said.

"That's what I said," Derek said.

Stiles smiled a bit bashfully and went to answer the door. The Desert Wolf groaned, and Derek readied himself for another attack, but it never came.

Davis ran in with his weapon drawn, and Derek toed the woman at his feet. "This the woman you lost?" he asked.

"I can't believe you found her," Davis said.

"I can't believe you didn't," Stiles said.

Davis scowled and gestured to one of the police officers in the room. "Cuff her tight. Shackles too."

"What happens now?" Stiles said. "What are you going to do with her?"

They watched as the police officers cuffed and shackled the unconscious woman and then dragged and half-carried her out the door. Finally Davis answered Stiles' question.

"She goes back to prison. And you two can go back to your regular lives. What does that mean for the two of you? Are you still in college, Stiles?"

"Hell, I'm still in high school. Technically I'm a runaway. I have to head home and finish off senior year."

Davis didn't look nearly as surprised at this as Derek had thought he would. "I knew a kid about your age, or a little older, when I was a kid. He came back from Vietnam at nineteen, and he saw a lot of action. He somehow seemed older much older than he was. Thirty-year-olds called him sir. I knew things in Beacon Hills were bad, but I guess it took meeting you to realize how bad."

"It just so happens I'm friends with a bunch of werewolves, who happened to have been targets of violence. I guess it's like that old parable that a man who doesn't wear a gun won't have to use it. When you have power, other people with power challenge you for dominance. Or in my case, they challenge Scott and I help him out because he's my bro."

"You also have an irrepressible need to help people that means you'll step between someone who is being attacked and something ten times as powerful as you," Derek said. "Even if the person you're protecting is a werewolf."

Stiles shrugged. "It's just instinct."

"Idiotic instinct," Derek muttered.

Stiles either pretended not to hear this or chose to ignore it. Davis looked at Stiles. "Well, you'd better head back to high school, then," he said.

"Yes sir," Stiles said.

Derek closed and locked the door after all the police and Davis left. He looked over at Stiles. "So, I guess we're on the road again. Want to go now, or wait until morning?"

"I feel like we should hit the casinos or something. Who comes to Vegas and hangs out with a CIA agent and waits for someone to attack them? We're supposed to be coming on to cocktail waitresses and gambling and raising hell," Stiles said.

"Welcome to my life. Anyway, you're underage. There is a bit to do in Vegas if you're under 21, but not all that much. I don't think there's a lot you'd be interested in."

"I suppose. But you owe me a weekend of Vegas debauchery when I'm older," Stiles said.

"Deal," Derek said.

"You're still going to be my friend after I graduate, right? Even if I move away?"

"Of course," Derek said.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "You can't even keep track of your own sisters. Obviously it's up to me to keep in touch. But you'll text me back. We've established this. So we're good. Friends for life, right?"

"Have you always been this much like a ten year old girl?" Derek asked.

Stiles shook his head in mock sadness at Derek's cynicism. "Turn that frown upside down, Derek. Things are looking up."

Derek had his doubts.