So, this was a pretty boring chapter, but things should start to pick up next chapter.

Chapter 22: Progress

When Stiles jerked awake, tears clouding his vision and breath coming quickly, he found Derek at his side as he had so many times before. He was asleep, his head pillowed against Stiles' stomach, arms wrapped around his hips, curled beside him in his cot. Stiles could hear him breathing, but he couldn't feel his warm breath or really anything. The most he could feel was the pressure of Derek's appendages pressed against him.

Groaning quietly, he reached for his wand on the bedside table, needing its reassuring weight in his hand, needing to feel his magic focused even slightly instead of roiling through his body as it was. His arm remained still though. Not even his fingers twitched. Horror crawled up his throat, forcing a whimper through his nose.

"Derek," he whispered silently, the tears already beginning to slip passed his lashes. He tried again, feeling his vocal cords twitch within his throat, but no sound accompanied the attempt.

He couldn't move, couldn't speak, a prisoner in his own body. 'Derek,' he thought weakly, reaching out for whatever bound them together. He didn't understand it, and he suspected neither did Derek, but he reached, stretching his mind to its limits, reaching out for that warmth that was Derek, that was always with him despite how he'd never acknowledged it. 'Derek!' he shouted, grasping for that warmth, pulling himself closer to it.

"Stiles," Derek gasped, startling awake. He shoved himself up onto one arm, reaching for Stiles face before he could even see straight. He stroked his thumb across Stiles' cheek, pausing at the wetness that coated his fingertips. "Stiles?" Blinking sleep from his eyes, he glanced up at Stiles, confusion pulling his eyebrows together. "Why are you crying?"

Stiles held onto that warmth, his tears tracking down his face. He closed them, shoulders twitching with a sob that gave no sound.

"Stiles, no, don't cry. You're alright, please don't cry," Derek told him, sitting up, rubbing away his tears with the heels of his hands.

Biting at his lip, Stiles shook his head, the only thing he could still move really. He couldn't suppress his magic. It sparked from his fingertips, arching to connect with the edge of the cot, the tip of his wand, slipping through Derek with an anxious, frantic energy. It sobbed with soft, trembling pleas, 'Help me. Please, help me. Help me.'

"Stiles, it's alright. Melissa will know what to do. She'll get you back to normal in no time," Derek coaxed, rubbing circles into the back of his hand with the rough pad of his thump.

Stiles' magic was already leaking from his too fast for him to control. His breath was coming in quick, short gasps, his head tilted back against the top of his pillow as his chest tightened little by little. His magic ran long every surface, skittering across the floor and ceiling, over Melissa's glass bottles and up the windows.

"Stiles," Derek attempted to calm him again, clutching at his hand and pushing against his magic with calming waves of energy, but they dissipated long before they flooded Stiles' body. He couldn't stop the flood of magic when it burst forward, escaping through every crack in the walls and ceiling, and beneath the door. "Stiles, please, calm down," he whispered, his limbs tingling as he cupped Stiles' face.

'I can't,' Stiles thought miserably, wishing fervently that his panic attack would end soon.

…..

Scott burst through the doors to the Hospital Wing. "Stiles!" he shouted, scrambling towards him on clumsy feet, grasping the edge of the bed with clawed hands. "What happened?" He spoke around the canines protruding passed his top lip.

"You ran here like that?" Derek spat, standing to glare down Scott.

"Like what?" Scott asked, his puppy face slipping into place.

The rest of the pack slid through the still open door, stumbling and falling over each other until they were just a pile lying on the stones. Cora, Lydia and Danny slipped in behind them, shutting the door as they did. "Yes, and so did the others. It's kind of what happens when you don't have any control and suddenly get a distress signal from one of your alphas," Cora griped.

Derek threw his hands towards the ceiling. "I guess we'll just let the whole castle know about us, then won't we?"

"Why does it matter?" Jackson snarled, "What the hell did you wake me up for?"

"He wasn't the one who woke you up, idiot," Cora snapped, watching as Lydia hurried to Stiles side, cupping his face.

Lydia stroked her thumbs beneath his eyes, wiping away his tears. "Honey, what's the matter? What's happened? Tell me how I can help."

Stiles opened his eyes, meeting hers. His breath whistled through his nose in quick, short bursts.

"What did you do?" Lydia snarled, snapping her eyes to Derek. Stiles quickly shook his head in her hands.

"Nothing," Derek whispered, curling in on himself, "He woke up like that. The only thing he can move his head. He can't talk. So far, he hasn't been able to control his magic. I don't… I don't know what's wrong."

"Scott," Danny said, dragging him away from the bed, "Go wake up you mom, now. Hurry."

"I'm on it!" Scott said, sprinting away towards where his mom slept. Isaac loped after him, staring over his shoulder helplessly. The pack crowded around Stiles, watching as Derek climbed into the bed beside him. He curled himself protectively around his mate, stroking his fingers through his hair.

…..

"Can you feel this?" Melissa asked, rotating Stiles' foot slowly. She watched his face closely for any reaction at all. His lips did not even twitch. Sighing, she stood from her stool, tapping him on the nose. His eyes fluttered open, looking to her for explanation. The rest of his group of friends stood on the other side of the bed, watching her anxiously. Smoothing back his hair, she started, "I'm not entirely positive what is going on right now, but I can tell you what I believe is going on. Is that alright with you?"

Stiles nodded, his eyes flickering to the others for the barest of moments before returning to her.

Exhaling deeply, Melissa began. "When you were first brought here a week ago, you were burning with a hex, similar to the one from your third year. That leads me to believe that it was cast by the same person, but this time with a much more malevolent intent. Last time, it seemed only to be meant as a discomfort, as if your body was fighting off an infection. Either that, or the person who cast the hex did not have the power to bring it to its full potential. This time, it was more like fire burning along your nerves, possibly a variation of the last hex. I believe that it caused you major damage this time.

"Your nerves have been singed, to put it simply. It's a possibility that you've been healing for the past week, which is why you are able to turn your head, the closest nerves to your brain save for those actually apart of your brain. The damage does not extend to your brain, as far as I can tell, though it may have while you were in your coma." She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles, holding his fingers. "I can only estimate at how long it will take you to heal. It should be about three weeks, if not more. Deaton has agreed not to begin the Tournament until you are fit, not that he really has a choice. I'm sorry about this, sweetie, I really wish I could be of more help."

Stiles smiled gently at her, shaking his head. 'It's alright,' he thought, hoping the magic sliding across Melissa's skin would translate that message.

She nodded, turning to those at his bed side. "For now, one of you will have to be here at all times. I'll talk to your teachers and the headmaster to excuse the one from the class they won't be in. Before you get any ideas though, I will monitor each person who is here. Only they will get permission to be out of class. If more than one of you it out at a time, I will know, and there will be consequences."

"I'll stay first," Derek told the others before fear could start setting in. They didn't know what Melissa would do, but they knew it wouldn't be pleasant in the least.

The others nodded. "I'll take second," Scott said, patting Stiles' hand affectionately, "Don't worry, buddy, you'll be better in no time."

"I'll go third," Lydia said quickly, bringing out a piece of paper, beginning to write down the order of watches as each member called out their name. "Each day we'll rotate down one. So, tomorrow, Scott will be first around this time, and Derek will be last, that way we won't always be missing the same classes."

Melissa took the list Lydia offered with a smile, patting her hand. "Lydia, you really are a genius, even among Ravenclaw."

Lydia beamed. "I know."

"Alright, all of you, get to class. Stiles isn't going anywhere," Melissa said, shooing them out the doors, "Go on. I've got my own class to teach. Derek, watch over him."

"I will, Madame McCall," Derek told her, lying at the end of Stiles' bed. He ran his fingers along Stiles' shin and up his thigh, moving them back down. "I'm not going anywhere."

…..

"I see that you are feeling better," Deaton commented as he stepped into the Hospital Wing. Lydia had a muggle chess board set up across his lap, moving his pieces when he requested. Stepping over to the bed, he sat down a bag of chocolate frogs and peppermint pasties.

They both looked up, frowning at him. "Well, if you count being able to talk and actually control my magic again, then yes, I am feeling better. Otherwise, not being able to move at all still sucks ass. Do you know how uncomfortable it is to be spoon fed by the twins, or hell, Jackson?"

Deaton smiled. "I can't say that I do."

"Good, I hope you never find out. My pride sobbing in a corner does not rightly describe my mortification." He glanced back at the chess board. "Lydia, move my knight please. Up and to the right."

Nodding, Lydia moved the piece. Just as she set it in its new place, she realized what had happened. "Dammit, you did it again!" she shouted, flipping the board as Stiles cackled, "I'm beginning to think that only time I won was because you let me win." The grin on Stiles' face told her as much. "You fucker," she spat, "I will beat you on my own terms on of these games."

"You love me," he told her, puckering his lips at her.

Rolling her eyes, she stood. "You look like a duck," she told him before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

Deaton watched them, head cocked to the side quizzically. "Well, that's something I wasn't expecting."

They looked to him again, eyebrows raised. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, in a pack of wolves, if one wolf is sick or injured, the others will bring it food, clean it, give it physical attention and affection. That physical contact can actually help speed the healing process. In many ways, it seems, you are unconsciously acting as a pack of wolves would. It is very interesting to see that you guys have become such a tight knit pack in such a short amount of time. It took Talia quite a bit longer once your mother left her pack to get them to the point your pack is at," he explained, gesturing towards them, "It may be the reason you have progressed so well in only a matter of days since waking."

"Well, it's nice to know that my pack cares for me. Was there actually a reason you came down here, Headmaster, or did you just come to visit my sick self?" Stiles asked, grinning.

Deaton shrugged. "I came down here more to ask if Kate Argent has been snooping around. I put a tracking spell on her, and she comes down this way at least three times a day. If I were you, Lydia, I'd start putting up protective spells. Someone should be at Stiles' side at all times. I understand you have been doing so already, but maybe adding another person would be a wise decision. You and a few of the others who are good at protective charms would be ideal, but just someone here will be good. Will you be alright with staying here more often?"

Lydia shrugged. "It won't be a problem for me as long as we continue getting our homework. I can pass my classes without a problem."

"Good, I leave it to you then." Turning back, he stared at Stiles for a moment. "I just have one question for you, Mr. Stilinski, how are you still turning in your homework on time?"

Stiles smiled. "It's a secret, Headmaster. No one knows how I do things."

"That's true enough."

…..

"Derek!" Stiles shouted in excitement as Derek burst through the Hospital Wing doors, breathing hard. His eyes were flashing red, and he was fighting the shift.

"What's the matter? Why did you send me a distress signal?" Derek shouted, skidding to a stop by his bed. He crouched low to the floor, snarling deep in his chest as he stared around.

Lydia sat on the end of Stiles' bed, her legs crossed at the knees, painting her nails and popping pretzel m&ms into her mouth. Where she'd gotten them, Stiles really wanted to know. "I wonder how long it'll take him to realize," she murmured around the chocolate.

"What?" Derek snarled, eyes snapping to her.

"Derek, it wasn't a distress signal," Stiles told him, laughter in his voice, "Come on, look at me, sourwolf."

Slowly standing straight, Derek turned to him. "What was it then?"

"A signal of excitement!" Stiles cried, raising his arms.

Derek stared fixedly at him, a smile spreading slowly over his face. "You can move."

"My arms, yeah, but only large movements. I still can't move my fingers really well. It's progress though. Progress," he crowed, flapping his arms in a gesture to bring Derek closer. He wrapped his arms around Derek's neck, pressing his mouth to his mate's. "Progress," he sighed.