So I would try and make excuses for how late this is but they would all be kinda pathetic and mean basically nothing. Lets just say that I've been having an... interesting month, regarding finding out some stuff about myself and I've been... otherwise occupied. Also, this chapter gave me a lot of trouble. So, hope you all had a lovely easter yesterday, and that you didn't get pranked too bad today.

Also, as a note, I have absolutely no idea what Scott's mum's hours are at the hospital. So, yeah, that part is probably completely fabricated. *shrug* What can you do.

Another note. I know that Stiles seems pretty well adjusted and calm about this at the end bit of this chapter, but... You know, everyone reacts to trauma differently. He's a smart guy. He'd know he had to keep his head.

Thanks for all your lovely reviews. Tell me what you think of this chapter, try and predict what'll happen next!

DFTBA

Scott quietly came back in through the rear door at around four in the morning. Luckily he managed to avoid waking his mother, and when he got back to his room, Stiles remained asleep. He was curled up with a slight frown on his otherwise peaceful face. His arms were wrapped around his middle, hands tucked into his sleeves. It looked for all the world like he as trying to protect himself from some invisible monster.

A monster that, by all reasoning, Scott should have already seen.

He sighed shakily, rubbing his eyes and leaning back in his desk chair. This level of what-the-hell-am-I-supposed-to-do surpassed even the Wolf and the fun side effects that came with that.

See, the thing to understand here is that Scott was by no means a bad friend. Sometimes he would get sidetracked, or busy, what with everything that had been happening to him lately. But that didn't mean he cared any less about Stiles, who had been in his life longer than anyone but his mum, and could never be replaced. Honestly, if he lost Stiles, he wouldn't know what to do. And that was what scared him so badly. He almost had lost him. Scott may not be a bad friend, but right now? He sure felt like one.

Stiles mumbled something and shook his head in his sleep. Without even thinking about what he was doing, Scott touched his arm, murmuring a few quiet words meant to calm him. He stilled, but the light frown deepened, spreading lines across his forehead. Keeping his hand where it was, Scott considered where they had been before the Wolf, and before Stiles's secret.

God, he was too young for this.

They were both far too young for this.

With a jolt, Stiles awoke, springing instantly into a sitting position that would have been comical, had it not been clear the kind of dream he had just come out of. His breathing was fast and his eyes wide, frightened. Scott was out of the chair and crouching on the bed in front of him in an instant, grasping Stiles by the shoulders.

"Hey. Hey, come on. It's just me. You're alright. You're safe," he said, and Stiles took a deep breath, white knuckled fingers knotted in the blanket Scott had placed over him when he fell asleep.

"Sorry. Um, I... Sorry."

"See, no, you don't get to apologise. Not right now, okay? No more 'sorry's."

Stiles nodded, a slight smile pulling at his lips. "Okay."

From his mother's room, Scott heard movement. He checked the clock, and saw that it was now five in the morning. Melissa went to work at six, and would just be getting ready now. Sure enough, a couple minutes later, she poked her head into the room, expression worried as it had been the night before.

"I could stay home today," she said, but her tone indicated that she really couldn't afford to. A recent illness had meant she'd already missed several days that month, and making ends meet was hard enough without putting her job in danger. Stiles and Scott both shook their heads.

"No, don't worry about it," Stiles reassured her, flashing Melissa a smile. "I'm okay.

Scott's mother stood hovering in the doorway for a few more moments, seeming to debate what to do. Finally, she sighed.

"As long as you're sure you two will be okay until I get home. I promise we'll figure this out. Promise," she repeated, then turned and left the room.

"Your mom worries too much," Stiles told his friend, slowly and stiffly disentangling his fingers from the blanket. He looked up, noticed Scott's expression, and rolled his eyes. "See? You're doing it too! I. Am. Fine. It's nothing. What you saw was nothing. What happened yesterday is nothing."

"That wasn't nothing, Stiles! You're covered in bruises! You had a panic attack in the locker room!" Scott insisted, voice going up an octave or two the more agitated he got. He scooted closer still to him, wanting to make Stiles hear him. "You're my best friend. I don't know if I can survive this without you, alright? I'm so sorry it took me so long to figure out someone was hurting you but... I can't let this keep happening! I can't!" Scott had never really been great with words, always one more inclined to be tactile than vocal, but he hoped to God that what he'd said would get through to Stiles.

"I..." the other boy said, and there it was again. That small, frightened voice that struck pangs in Scott's heart. "I don't want to go home."

"It's okay. You don't have to. Derek's coming over in a bit, and he's gonna help us figure out what to do. Whatever happens, though, I promise I won't let him near you again."

And when Stiles finally looked up at him, there was something akin to hope in his eyes.

A few minutes later, Derek knocked on the door (abiding by normal societal rules of human to human interaction for once since Scott had known him), and the whole thing began in earnest. The first thing that happened was Scott trying to backpedal and awkwardly churn out the explanation of how Derek had come to know about his situation. That he had guessed. That Scott hadn't actually told him anything aside from the fact that he needed help. Stiles had actually been pretty good about that part. He knew that he would never voluntarily tell anybody anything like that unless given permission. Then Derek had turned the conversation over to him.

"Stiles, I need you to tell me what happened. When it started. Why it started. How often. I need to know everything that you can tell me so that I can help you get out of there. Also, if you know anybody who might be in any way knowledgable about the legal system, give them a call. We're going to need all the help we can get. Your father's the Sheriff, therefore accusing him of something like this is a pretty damn big deal. Are you ready to do this?"

Stiles thought about it for a second. "I think I know just who to call."