Derek finally slid through Stiles' window at 11:40, two and a half hours late. He leaned against the wall for a moment, catching his breath as Stiles marched through the doorway, pausing for a moment and looking Derek over.
As Derek thought about it more, he realized that he should have considered changing before running over here, but he hadn't planned on anything happening. His grey shirt was nearly shredded, dried blood staining the fabric. He wasn't wearing any shoes, and his jeans had numerous tears.
"Fuck, Derek." Stiles rushed forward. "Are you okay?" Stiles put his hands on Derek's shoulders, looking up at him.
Derek sighed, averting Stiles' eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about me." Derek closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I need to talk to you."
"We're talking right now."
Derek smiled slightly, but it disappeared just as quickly as it had come. "Stiles." Derek paused, taking a deep breath.
"Derek. What happened?" Stiles spoke quietly, holding on to Derek's elbows.
Derek looked down, looking Stiles in the eye for the first time. "We were attacked. We were attacked, and incredibly outnumbered, and the only things near us were fucking trees for twenty miles.
"Who was it?"
"I don't know." Derek laughed humorlessly to himself. "I have no fucking clue. But they were huge, 14 of them and-, and three of us." Derek's voice stopped.
Derek closed his eyes for a moment before looking back at Stiles. "Stiles...they got Scott."
"What?" Stiles' eyes widened, pushing himself away from Derek, who flinched at the withdraw.
"He's dead. They focused their attack on Scott, We tried to run, but, I don't know, I guess more of them went after him than they did us, and they got him." He paused. "We took so long because we had to call his mom. We had to create a cover story, we had to take his body, everything. I just, fuck, I- I'm sorry, Stiles."
"No." Stiles said, shaking his head as he took a step back. "No."
"Stiles-"
"Shut the fuck up, Derek!" Stiles' words sliced through the air, silencing Derek immediately.
"He-"
"You had one fucking job, one job. And now he's dead. My best friend, hell, my goddamn brother, is dead, because of you!" Stiles was nearly screaming at this point as he backed up towards the opposite wall.
"Stiles." Derek quickly walked over to him. Before he could do anything, Stiles grabbed his laptop off his desk, slamming it against the top of Derek's head.
The room was thick with silence as Derek froze, blinking rapidly from the impact of the computer on his skull.
Stiles didn't stop, grabbing everything and anything he could find on his desk, his huge history textbook, a mini-vacuum, a wooden turtle, and a coffee cup at Derek.
Derek just stood in place, allowing the assault to continue, not moving or speaking.
Eventually, Stiles ran out of things to throw, walking up to Derek and hitting him with his fists. "No, Derek-", Stiles' voice cracked. "He-", Stiles shook as he tried to keep himself from crying. "No-Not Scott. Not Scott."
Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, pressing Stiles' face into his shirt as Stiles began to sob. Derek tried to keep himself from crying as he gently slid them to the floor, gripping Stiles gently in his arms.
The two of them sat there, barely speaking, until the tears couldn't fall.