Derek had tried everything : push ups, sit ups, running full wolfed out in the woods, loosing himself in his favorite book, nothing worked, he just couldn't sleep. His body was tired and is mind was functionning slowly. If a threat were to appear he would be of no use to the Pack.

Protecting Beacon Hills was the mission his mother left him, he had to find a solution to make himself sleep. Deaton had been of no help saying crypting things about relaxing his energies. Sleeping pills were useless for a werewolf as much as they weren't an option for Stiles because of his Aderall. Wait, why was he thinking about Stiles? The annoying kid had always gotten on his nerves. Even if the last time he was able to sleep was in his company 3 fucking days ago...

Stiles was sitting in front of his computer trying to focus on his research : crossing the information from the bestiary with official data wasn't an easy task, but a necessary one if he wanted to be ready for the next supercreature planning to visit his hometown.

The Aderall wasn't enough to compensate his lack of sleep and coffee and energy drinks could do so much. He was finishing the last drop of another redbull can when a certain Sourwolf came through his window.

- Look who came for his Stilinski dosage! he greeted all smile

Derek gave him his "seriously" glare. They stared at each other a minute then Stiles broke the silent once again.

- What's up Derek? he asked

- What are you working on? deflected the werewolf as if him braking in was the most natural thing in the world.

Stiles stood up to go sit on his bed facing his board.

- I had my dad pull out the police records for when the Nemethon was last active a few decades ago. I figured what came then could come again.

Derek nodded, sitting next to him. The kid way of thinking ahead was impressive. Give him someting to fight and he knew what to do but Stile's approach could actually prevent a lot.

- And how is it going? he asked looking at the pretty messy board.

- Well, it's not, Said Stiles who seamed to be lost in his thought. You see "animal attacks" and "ritual like murders" were sadly and unsurprisinly common, but the Sheriff back then was trying cover it up, even if he had no clue of what he was dealing with.

Derek laid on the bed while Stiles was coming back and forth between the board and his desk. The werewolf was laying still, his eyes half closed and his hands holding themselves on his stomack ; not even wandering why Stiles' ramble wasn't upseting him at the moment. After a while, Stiles laid next to him, his hand going through is hair.

- This is so frustrating... I'm just gonna rest my eyes for a bit.

Stiles woke up the next morning to an empty room, but after a full night of sleep.