Stiles isn't sure who's awake and who's not when he opens his eyes. He figures maybe it mostly doesn't matter because why Jackson did it is probably still off the discussion board. Maybe he doesn't want to talk anyways. What is there to say? No simple conversation is going to fix this. Whatever this even is. Eventually he glanced to Peter, seeking comfort. Peter shot him a tiredly amused glance over Jackson's hair. Stiles pulled himself into a sitting position to see that Jackson was all but curled on Peter's chest. Stiles spiked an eyebrow.
"Should I leave you two alone?" Why was he joking right now? Maybe there wasn't another option.
"His ties are simply stronger to me Stiles. He can hardly help it and after last night I won't complain." Stiles let his expression soften.
"I know you're mine," he whispered conspiratorially. Peter let out an approving rumble. They both froze when Jackson shifted. "I'll see about food," Stiles whispered when Jackson sighed quietly and went still again. He climbed around them carefully. Peter hadn't responded so Stiles was shocked when he was yanked backwards. He landed on his ass on the carpet, groaning in surprise when Peter kissed him thoroughly. Peter released him and Stiles tried to glare while wondering how he hadn't woken up Jackson up doing that.
"Good morning," he offered softly, smiling. That was all it took and Stiles was grinning right back at him.
"Morning," he agreed. He paused at the door, listening carefully. Apparently Jackson's parents had left for the weekend. Maybe that was for the best.

The kitchen was towards the back of the house on the first floor. Stiles discovered he didn't much like Jackson's house. Everything looked incredibly expensive. It didn't reek of money just for the sake of it but he could tell that everything was so expensive it would probably make him cry if he lingered on it extensively. Not that he'd ever really met Jackson's parents so he shouldn't judge and he had bigger problems at hand anyways. He was in the middle of looking through the cabinets, trying to decide what would be best for breakfast when a quiet,
"Stiles," stopped him. He whirled, lips curling in a snarl. Derek didn't react, lips pressed in a resigned line as if he'd expected it. Stiles forced his face back to normal, hoping Peter didn't leave Jackson over his sudden snap of panic.
"What?" he demanded, turning back to the food.
"How is he?"
"Like you care," Stiles shot at him, empathy gone. "Don't you wish you hadn't saved him?" Derek growled behind him and Stiles paused, frowning. He probably shouldn't push him but damn it, what about Jackson?
"I didn't mean that."
"Well then why did you say it?" Derek growled again and Stiles held his ground. He was not giving in. Derek's teeth snapped. Stiles could practically smell his frustration.
"Because I wanted him to hurt."
"I didn't know you were such an overachiever," Stiles muttered. He grabbed a box of Pop-Tarts and turned. Derek's hands were curling and uncurling rapidly and Stiles wondered if he was fighting for control.
"You couldn't possibly understand," Derek gritted. His eyes were flaring lighter and darker as well.
"No. And you couldn't possibly understand what you've put me through. He was dead when I got here. Silver knives stabbed into his body, not breathing, blood all over the bathroom." The words came out slowly, with a calm he didn't know he possessed. Derek moved forward, almost unwillingly. He stopped mere inches away. The last thing Stiles expected was for him to drop to his knees.

"Fine," he said, as if the word physically hurt him, "whatever you want. Just tell me how he is." Stiles eased suddenly, muscles loosening as he drew in a deep breath.
"He's asleep," he answered simply. Derek sagged and Stiles only then realized how tired he looked. "Have you slept?" Why did he care? After a moment Derek shook his head.
"I can't," he exhaled.
"Why?"
"What if he tries again?"
"Peter and I are with him. We will take care of him. You should go home and rest, come back tonight." Derek let out a noise that Stiles would describe as a whine if it came from anyone else. "Go," he affirmed softly. He attributed Derek's strange behavior to his lack of sleep and emotional trauma as he watched Derek actually get up and leave out the back door. The thought comforted him slightly as he made his way back to Jackson's room. At least Derek felt something. At least it appeared to bother him. That was something. It had to be.

Jackson was awake when Stiles returned, Peter murmuring to him quietly. It warmed his heart to see them together like that. He paused in the doorway, feeling stupid for the clichéd thought, but there literally had been a flush of heat across his chest. He thought he finally understood where the expression had come from. He smiled softly and crossed the room, rounding the bed to get back to his side. "I brought Pop-Tarts," he offered, holding up the box. Jackson half turned to him and laughed softly.
"Pop-Tarts," he murmured.
"How are you feeling?" Stiles asked softly.
"Better," Jackson answered softly. He pulled himself up a bit before turning onto his back and taking the box. He opened it and slid a package out before settling the box between his body and Stiles'.
"Unfortunate as it is," Peter began as Stiles snatched a package for himself, "we do need to talk." Unease seeped from Jackson.
"Okay," he agreed meekly.
"First of all, good work with Derek Stiles." Stiles choked on the corner of the pastry. He coughed loudly.
"Huh? What?"
"You took your rightful place as the alpha's mate. Derek is below you."
"He's in our pack now?" Jackson interrupted.
"Same question," Stiles agreed.
"Yes. His relation to me and his agreement to join started the bond. Him submitting to you only solidified it."
"Oh," Stiles managed.
"So he's in our pack now?" Jackson repeated, breakfast forgotten on his stomach.
"Yes," Peter repeated.
"So he can't make me choose anymore?" Jackson whispered, wide eyes going to Peter.
"I won't allow it," Peter answered.

Jackson's eyes closed and breath leaked out as he sagged.
"Oh my God," he muttered after a moment, hands covering his face. "That is just… That is just really, really good to hear." Peter smiled slightly, obviously pleased by Jackson's reaction.
"I thought you would feel that way," he said quietly, "that's why I wanted to discuss it first." Stiles' bragging was once again cut short. He settled in closer to Jackson. "You don't have to explain yourself, so long as you know that taking yourself away from us is not a solution." Stiles nearly squawked in disbelief. What did he mean Jackson didn't have to explain?
"Thank you," Jackson said very quietly.
"Hey, I've been there." It was amazing how quickly Stiles' focus changed. He went from Jackson to Peter so fast his neck cracked in protest. His lips flapped wordlessly as he tried to question what had just been said but was too shocked to actually get words out.
"What do you mean?" Jackson questioned. Stiles had the passing thought that he was glad Jackson could still talk.
"When I was in the hospital, healing by dragging inches…I didn't want to live anymore. Nearly all of my family was gone. For all intents and purposes I was a breathing vegetable. I couldn't speak or look after myself. I couldn't walk. It was not a good time for me. The nightmares…" Peter drifted, one hand reaching to his forehead as his eyes closed. "Have no doubt that had I been able, I would not have lived. It was only the paralysis keeping my body hostage that kept me alive. In some ways…I wish I had been able…but that is not your situation," he said to Jackson severely. Jackson managed a nod. "It is only what happened after I decided to seek revenge that makes me think it could have been better. Because I wish that I had not killed Laura. She did not deserve to die." Stiles reached across Jackson to take hold of Peter's hand. He squeezed reassuringly. "Promise me you aren't still thinking of killing yourself," Peter murmured.
"I'm not," Jackson said quickly. "It was only because…I was scared. And I thought that Derek would turn me against you. I didn't want to be the weakest link."
"You're our pack," Stiles told him.
"You're only as weak as we are," Peter finished.

"That's hard to wrap my head around," Jackson admitted. "Even though I can feel it…sort of. But it's okay now. Derek is in our pack. He can't break me now." Stiles frowned slightly, unsure how much he believed Jackson. Derek was his mate. It had to be more than that. "I won't let him in again," Jackson said firmly. Stiles wondered if it was for their benefit or his.
"I'm not going to lie to you Jackson, it's not going to suddenly fix itself. You're still mates. There's still a lot of damage there. But you all answer to me and I promise I will look after you. But you have to tell me if you need help. You can't be ashamed or afraid to ask for it. You're still just a kid and as cliché as it is, we all need help. Without you two…I'd be dead."
"I can't really explain it," Jackson admitted on a whisper, "I've just always felt like I should be better. Stronger. Faster. Whatever."
"Trust me when I say, sometimes you have to take it a day at a time."
"Yeah. I'm gonna work on that."
"Good. Now eat your breakfast."

…

Jackson was happy enough to end the conversation there. He shoved all thoughts of Derek away firmly. Derek was nothing. Derek didn't matter. He was still here. By some sort of miracle. Obviously he was meant to be here. He bit into the first Pop-Tart, letting the strawberry flavoring roll over his tongue. He was still here. Derek was nothing and he was here. That was what mattered.
"Thank you for saving me," Jackson murmured, turning to Stiles.
"Of course I would save you," Stiles said, eyes soft. "Just don't do it again yeah?" Jackson nodded immediately. He knew, maybe more than anything he'd ever known, that trying to kill himself had been a mistake. He was grateful to still be alive. Even with all his problems…he wasn't built to give up. "I don't want to be locking lips with you again, no offense." Jackson chuckled once, embarrassment heating him briefly.
"Sorry." Stiles smiled back at him. "I have to clean up," Jackson realized with a frown.
"And I have to go deal with the hunters," Peter said, sliding from bed. Both Jackson and Stiles turned to him.
"Right now?" Jackson questioned, as Stiles said,
"You're going alone?"
"Right now I'm going to talk to Chris. We'll see where it goes from there. You two stay out of the woods. Keep an eye on each other." Jackson knew he really meant for Stiles to keep an eye on him. For the first time he thought maybe he needed it. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to have someone to fall back on.

A/N: Arghh.. I'm sorry for the time between updates. I really am. And next chapter we'll visit with Jackson more just so I can flush it out. I think. Maybe Peter and Chris interaction too…although I'm nervous about that already lol.

Anyways. I hope you're still enjoying, thank you!