Shane supposed he'd been waiting for the final straw all day. He supposed that this had been coming for even longer than that. The quiet growl of Hale's engine was unmistakable and Shane's hand curled when it hit his ears. The dishrag in his fist oozed water and whatever bits of food had been clinging to the edges of it. He leaned away from the counter and flung it to the ground with a slap of sound. In another second he'd launched his body over the counter and was stalking towards the windows. Everyone in the diner was perfectly silent, silverware had frozen over plates and he felt more than one pair of eyes on him. The engine cut off and Shane's eyes narrowed as he focused on Hale getting out of his car and shutting the door. Shane cracked his knuckles with his thumbs, waiting impatiently. It was another several moments before Derek discovered what he already knew, the house was empty. Shane half turned towards the back, listening to Stiles' even breathing and steady heart, before moving for the door. His vision was already sharpening around the edges and his short, tense breaths were getting closer and closer to growls. Hale was about fifty feet down the street, stock still. As if he knew exactly where Stiles was and hadn't decided whether or not he should go try to get him back. Shane snarled at that thought.
"Hale!" he yelled, tearing his apron off as his feet dug into the earth, propelling him forward in urgent strides. Memories blipped through him as Derek started moving towards him as well, obviously more hesitant. Shane didn't care. He'd played this thing right from the very beginning, worried about Stiles getting hurt. He'd followed the rules to the letter, he'd taken a restraint, he'd even played nice with Hale afterwards. The skin still pink and new around his wrist seemed to flare with heat as he thought about it. Shane gritted his teeth. Pure silver, prolonged exposure. His hand still hadn't fully healed and he'd only worn it for two days. And after all that… Stiles shows up on his door pale, exhausted, not even willing to talk. It had taken Shane nearly fifteen minutes just to get him to eat. Shane thought listening to Stiles cry quietly as he cooked and served was going to kill him. There were barely ten feet of space between them now. Shane snarled. If Hale wouldn't take care of Stiles then Shane would.

Derek hadn't been expecting Shane to lunge at him, from the nearly comical way his eyebrows rose and he dove to the side. Shane snarled again. Derek regained his feet and brushed off his elbow. There were about a million things Shane could have said but his patience was gone so he kept it simple. "I want Stiles," he growled. Derek's eyes narrowed and he snapped his teeth just before his eyes flared blue. Shane's lips twisted as he let the wolf take over. It was all much simpler then. Attack. He lunged again but Derek didn't flinch this time, bending his knees and bracing instead. Shane pushed him back several inches before swinging with his claws. Derek snarled at the attack, baring his teeth as he backed off. Shane smiled, moving on instinct when Derek swung forward and snapped his jaw inches from where Shane's neck had been. Wolves were watching them now, not stupid enough to get close. Shane and Derek didn't waste time. They didn't circle each other or posture. They went straight for the kill. Derek attacked again and Shane waited until the last possible second to dodge. He wasn't above letting people underestimate him. He was big so he was slow. Go ahead and think that. He had a chance to catch Derek's back unguarded but let it pass. A better chance would come along if he played this right. Derek rounded on him again and Shane growled. Derek growled louder in response so Shane swung at him again. Derek caught his arm and threw it away before kicking him hard in the stomach. The force of it pushed Shane back almost a foot and he nearly doubled over from the pain. Of course that was when he remembered Derek's job was teaching kickboxing. He shook his head once before thinking about how Stiles had looked that morning. He placed his left hand over his stomach, as if he actually did need a moment. When Derek got close enough Shane pivoted and sunk his claws into Derek's neck. He really only had time to transplant one image and Shane wished there was time for more. He wished Derek could see what he'd done. All of it.

Derek exhaled in a sharp burst before shoving him off and staggering back half a step. He lifted one hand to the healing scratches and backed up further. Shane lunged again and the fight continued. Derek got a swipe in that Shane hadn't actually given to him and Shane was worried that Derek saw through him. He gritted his teeth. It was when Derek froze, clearly distracted, that Shane thought the memory had taken hold. He took advantage and jumped forward, taking Derek's shoulders in both paws before sinking his teeth into the meat where Derek's neck met his body. Derek howled and tried to throw him off but Shane just sunk his teeth in further. He wasn't expecting Derek to suddenly shrink down.
"Stop," he gritted out, "please." Shane released him but didn't fully drop his guard as Derek had. He licked his lips and when something slapped against his back Shane growled. "No!" Derek yelled eyes wide as blood gushed from his neck. It was enough for Shane to pause again, for him to realize they were no longer alone.
"- are you doing?" Stiles was yelping, wiggling his way between them. Shane forced his wolf back before taking a calming breath.
"Stiles I could have killed you!" he let out, exasperated.
"I could kill you!" Stiles returned indignantly, rising up to his tip toes and stabbing a finger into Shane's chest. "What the hell are you doing?" Shane was amused for a moment, until Derek's eyes closed and he sagged to the ground as if all his strings had been cut.

…

The black was welcoming at this point. Finally he could just close his eyes and rest. Someone was pulling on him and there was an urgent voice in his ear. Derek squeezed his eyes closed tighter and groaned quietly.
"Derek please," the voice was getting quieter and Derek was glad, sinking further into the dark. His body swung up suddenly and Derek opened his eyes in slits, groaning again. All he saw was Stiles' face, eyes wide and shining. Stiles was fine. Derek closed his eyes again as a hand slid into his. He dimly registered that he was being carried but couldn't bring himself to care beyond that. It hurt when he was set down and he groaned again, the hand in his tightening on his lax fingers. There was more quiet murmuring which Derek ignored. Eventually a body slid next to his and it was warm. Stiles. It was Stiles. Derek managed a quiet sigh and breathed him in carefully before finally slipping off.

He didn't dream and that in and of itself was a relief. Stiles stayed close, Derek waking a bit when he moved away. He listened for him, eyes still closed, as Stiles went to the kitchen and came back. Stiles sighed before crossing to the stairs and climbing them quickly. Derek was contemplating trying to actually sit up when he heard Stiles coming back and relaxed again. Stiles pulled at the collar of his shirt slowly before cutting into the fabric. Derek laid still and let Stiles cut his shirt off, nearly jumping when a cool cloth began swiping at his neck. "Almost healed," Stiles murmured, "yeah you'll be fine…just a bit more time." Stiles finished wiping him off before following up with a towel, still murmuring to himself. When he moved to get up again Derek held on to him. Stiles' heart jumped and he gasped before freezing. "You're awake?" he questioned.
"Not really," Derek breathed in response.
"You okay?" he asked haltingly.
"I'll be fine," Derek admitted, opening his eyes slowly. Stiles was gnawing on his bottom lip, throat flushed. He looked away after a second. "You don't have to take care of me." Stiles' mouth twitched at that.
"You were gone," he let out, staring directly at the wall.
"It was the full moon." Stiles laughed shortly, just once.
"It's never going to be good is it? We're never going to be…" he drifted off and stood, shaking Derek's hands off as he did.
"What?" Derek prompted as he went back to the kitchen.
"Never mind," Stiles snapped, "I'm shutting my mouth." Derek let his eyes close for just a second before sitting up slowly, letting the scraps of his shirt fall away. He stood even slower, following after Stiles.

He leaned in the doorway of the kitchen, trying to conserve his energy.
"It's not your fault." Stiles didn't respond. "I told you there were reasons I was alone."
"You should be in bed," Stiles said, abandoning washing out the rag and turning.
"I'll be fine. He didn't do any permanent damage." Stiles' lips pressed thin at that. He crossed his arms over his chest.
"You should be resting. You're hurt you should be resting." Derek sighed. He should have stayed unconscious. Maybe Stiles would have cuddled with him.
"Will you read to me?" Stiles' eyebrows jerked as he gaped at him.
"No." Well he should have seen that coming.
"Will you stay with me?" Derek didn't really think about how it would sound until it was out. Stiles snorted.
"No."
"Will you let me apologize?"
"Aren't you tired of apologizing?" Stiles questioned. "Aren't you tired of fighting? Aren't you tired of fucking trying?" That hurt.
"Are you?" he asked after a beat.
"Yes!" the word burst from Stiles as if it was all he'd wanted to say for a month. He closed his eyes and took a breath. "Yes I am tired. I'm going to bed."
"Upstairs?" Derek questioned quietly. Stiles uncrossed his arms and pressed his fingertips to his closed eyes.
"Yes Derek," he said slowly, as if dealing with a child, "upstairs." Derek nodded and then just let his head hang down, examining the floor. Stiles waited several moments, apparently waiting for Derek to move. When that didn't happen he sighed again and carefully edged past him, hurrying for the stairs. Derek sighed. Eventually he flicked out the lights and sat down on the futon. He could have lost him today. He could have lost him and all he wanted to do was hold him in his arms and be sure that he was completely whole. But he couldn't do that. And that was his fault.

Derek never knew he was dreaming. Maybe that was the worst part of it. He didn't remember falling asleep. There was no sepia glow or realization of this has already happened. No such gifts. Instead he was in the woods at night, back in his thirteen year old body. He still hadn't learned to control the change and it was so wonderfully freeing just to run through the trees. It didn't matter if he went from two legs to four, no one was watching him. Laura hadn't wanted to go out that night. But he'd whined until she agreed. He'd been overjoyed, hopping up and down as she sighed and pulled her hair into a pony tail before moving for the door. She ruffled his hair and he didn't even complain, following her out. They'd lived just inside the woods so Derek took off as soon as he was out the door. He ran and ran, Laura only staying close enough to keep an eye on him. He didn't even really notice when she wasn't there anymore. Maybe he'd been too excited. Maybe she'd been too far back. But he knew it didn't matter either way. By the time he smelled them Peter had caught up to him, slapping a hand over his mouth.
"Shh," Peter breathed right in his ear. "They don't know we're here Derek just be quiet okay?" But what about Laura? He couldn't ask with his uncle's hand clamped over his mouth. Peter's other hand was on his shoulder, clenching tighter when they heard a howl. "Don't make a sound. Derek just be quiet okay? We need to be quiet." The words were whispered rapidly, burrowing into his ear as Peter held onto him. Something was crashing through the brush to the right below them, loud and heavy. A wounded animal. He smelled the blood before he saw the source of it. And Derek couldn't help getting a little excited. He'd loved the smell of blood. He'd loved the hunt. But then he saw her. His sister. His beautiful older sister. She was the wounded animal. She was the one running for her life this time. The excitement in Derek's chest thickened and fell to the pit of his stomach. It smelled all wrong now, bitter and foul. He couldn't breathe and he felt ill. No this couldn't be happening. It had to be some sick sort of dream. His body half jerked forward before swinging back, still caught tightly in Peter's hands. "Don't look Derek, please don't look." Laura's foot caught in a root and she tumbled to the ground. They nearly had a perfect view of it. Get up, get up, please get up. He saw them then, five men following along behind her, stepping from the shadows. They held guns, one a crossbow. Laura was still on the ground, forehead pressing into the dirt as she panted. Laura please. Derek couldn't breathe and his uncle's grip really hurt now. His spine curved slightly as his body shrunk in on itself. No this couldn't be happening. Please. Laura wasn't moving. She had to move. She had to. They're behind you he wanted to yell Laura please run please. His throat burned with the words as they crashed together and clung to the sides of his esophagus. Be quiet Derek. It was always the very last moment he woke up. The strangled whimper his sister had given as the knife tore through her heart. He would never understand why they hadn't just shot her. He would never understand why they got close enough to flip her over and look into her eyes as they killed her.
"Laura!"

It was that yell that brought him tumbling back into consciousness. Derek was on his feet before he realized it was only a dream. Again. He stood a few feet from the futon, panting as he tried to push it away. He was fine. He pressed the heels of his palms to his eye sockets hard. He was fine. He was fine. Repeating the words in his head did nothing to calm him. His chest ached. His heart ached. For one awful moment it seemed as if everything ached. He wanted his mate. He wanted Stiles so badly. Forcing himself back to the futon was so difficult it seemed to take an hour. He sat heavily and pressed his hands to his eyes again. Stiles hadn't come to him. He huffed quickly as his eyes burned. Why should he? Why come when he knew Derek would only bite at his hand for trying? But it wasn't Stiles' fault. Derek could try to blame him. He could try to blame Shane too. Scenting. Bonding. Whatever excuse he could toss up to defend himself. But it wasn't anyone's fault. Not really. It was his own damn fault. And really, Derek shouldn't be surprised by that. He stood on restless feet and made his way up the stairs. He wouldn't go in. He wouldn't climb in that bed. He just wanted to make sure Stiles was okay. It seemed a good enough reason to stop outside the door and sink to the floor of the narrow hallway. Derek kept one leg bent and let his other extend out so that his foot brushed against the door. He let his hands fall to his sides, fingers curling around nothing. Stiles was breathing evenly. Of course he was. He shook his head before letting it rest on his shoulder. He hadn't been sleeping much the past couple days. After all this time it felt unnatural to be alone. Derek wondered what he was going to do when Stiles left. His stomach curled at the thought and he decided he didn't want to think about that. Not even a little bit. The third time he woke up in the cramped space he forced himself back up and went downstairs. He went into the kitchen and opened the fridge before closing it. Then he stood there a few moments and stared at nothing in particular. He wanted to run away again. He wanted to be too far from Stiles to hurt him. But there was nowhere to go. He couldn't actually live on his own. It was too dangerous. He couldn't go back to his family. Bile rose in his throat just at the passing thought. He sighed and leaned against the fridge, forehead resting against the cool metal. He didn't know what to do.

Ross didn't look happy to see him. Derek wouldn't be happy to see him either. And he doubted it was because he was half naked and still covered in dried blood. Ross simply sighed though, stepping back and waving Derek forward.
"I suppose I should have expected this," Ross sighed, turning to the left and entering the dining room. Derek followed behind silently. "Please sit Mr. Hale." He did, bowing his head and knitting his fingers together in his lap. Ross took the chair next to him and tapped his fingernails along the smooth polished wood. "I assume you have something to say," he prompted eventually. Derek let his eyes close.
"I don't know what to do," he gritted. "I don't know what to do. I keep hurting him. I told you this wouldn't work."
"Maybe it would if you wanted it to," Ross suggested then. Derek gritted his teeth.
"But I don't want it to. Trap him here with me forever? I don't think so."
"What's the worst that could happen?" Derek felt his nostrils flare as he inhaled deeply.
"You know what could happen."
"Derek I really wish you would seek therapy as I have suggested. You cannot keep blaming yourself for your sister's death."
"It was my fault!" Derek yelled. "Don't psychoanalyze me or bullshit me. It was my fault and nothing you say is ever going to change that!"
"You were a child. Your family was attacked. If anything it was your parents' fault for not properly warning you of the dangers."

Derek's fist slammed on the table, shaking it.
"Don't say that," he growled. "They couldn't have known."
"And you could?"
"That's not the point."
"Then what is?"
"The point is that all I do is hurt people. The point is that I should have been the one to die." Ross sighed at him. He waited a beat before changing directions.
"Have you tried talking to Stiles?"
"He won't talk to me," Derek admitted, "he's angry with me."
"Why is he angry with you?" Derek ducked his head again. How Ross always seemed to have this aura of disapproving adult he would never know.
"I told him to shut up."
"Oh? I highly doubt that would actually shut Stiles up." Derek sighed. He drew his hands back into his lap.
"I might have been a bit worse about it." Ross was silent for a long time and Derek barely avoided fidgeting.
"Don't you care for the boy at all?" Derek didn't answer and Ross sighed again. "He is so opposite you. Light where you are dark and loud where you are quiet, ridiculous where you are melancholy. I thought no one would ever fit you so well as him."
"So he was supposed to make me better and I was supposed to make him worse? Is that fair?"
"Not worse. Balanced. He's calmer here. He doesn't take medication anymore. I even recall the two of you going for runs." Derek frowned at him.
"You say that like I'm actually…"
"Good for him?" Ross prompted.

Derek's frown deepened and he was tempted to snap his teeth for good measure. "You can't keep letting one mistake of your life define you Derek."
"It does define me," Derek insisted yet again. "You don't know what it's like." Ross scratched at his forehead briefly.
"No I don't. But I do know what regrets are like. And I do know if you don't let it go you're going to lose him."
"I'm going to lose him anyways. Losing him is the plan."
"Oh," Ross said, as if that explained everything. "Well carry on then." Derek groaned before crossing his arms. "I'm assuming you came to me for help. I can't help you if you don't tell me what you're afraid of. Are you afraid of caring too much and then losing him? Because Derek it looks like that's already happening. And you still have two months left."
"I'm not worried about that," Derek muttered, "I can let him go. It's the right thing."
"What is it then?" Derek didn't have an answer ready and Ross gave a quiet hm before leaning back and placing his chin carefully in his hand. "You are afraid that it will work. Aren't you?"
"Of course not."
"You're afraid he'll fall for you," Ross continued.
"Not possible," Derek gritted.
"Isn't it?" Ross didn't react as he shoved his chair back and stood. Derek didn't say anything else before leaving, taking care not to slam the door even though he felt like it.

Derek kicked at the dirt as he walked before seeing Amelia staring at him, pushing up her glasses with thin lips as his eyes met hers.
"Morning Hale," she offered, crossing her arms. Derek gritted his teeth before nodding. She was right, the sun was starting to peek over the horizon and the sky was splashed red with it. Derek kept moving. He still had to figure out what the hell he was going to do before Stiles woke up. He didn't think he was going to have an answer before his time was up. But why did he have to do anything? Wasn't Stiles being mad at him a good thing? Wouldn't that only make it easier when the time came? He grimaced at the thought and opened the door, freezing with one foot through the doorway when he saw Stiles sitting on the futon, arms wrapped around his torso. Stiles hiccupped and looked up to him before swiping a hand under both eyes quickly. An awful pain split open in his chest and Derek slammed the door behind him before crossing to Stiles and pulling him into his arms.
"Why are you shirtless?" Stiles complained voice thick.
"What's wrong?" Derek questioned softly. Stiles inhaled unevenly and wiped at his cheek.
"You keep leaving," he let out. "You're supposed to be here and you keep leaving and I don't know what to do when you're not here."
"I'm trying not to hurt you Stiles," he murmured, rubbing between Stiles' shoulders.
"Leaving does hurt me," Stiles said, sagging against him. "You're supposed to be here. You're supposed to want me," he added even quieter. I do want you. So badly.
"I thought you were asleep."
"I wasn't."
"I'm sorry Stiles. I'm sorry." Stiles sighed quietly and Derek picked him up carefully before turning for the stairs. Stiles curled into him and Derek's chest warmed in a way he couldn't ignore. He couldn't make himself let go of Stiles when he reached the bed but Stiles' arms weren't leaving his neck anyways so Derek just tucked his body around Stiles' and pulled the sheet over both of them.

Stiles was still passed out cold when Derek woke up a few hours later. He'd flopped onto his back, one of his arms still trapped under Derek's neck. His mouth was parted slightly as he breathed in and out and Derek couldn't make himself move then either. In all reality he should get up. He should take a shower or eat something. Maybe even get something for Stiles to eat. But the bed was so comfortable. Derek drifted back to a few days ago, was it only a few days? He hadn't wanted to get out of bed then either. That had never been a problem before Stiles came. Bed was where he had nightmares or where he slept as much as he needed. It wasn't somewhere he spent his spare time. It wasn't somewhere he felt good. He sighed and looked back to his mate. He was getting attached. But he'd already known that. He couldn't help going back over his and Ross' conversation. I thought no one would ever fit you so well as him. He wanted to deny it. But they did fit together, in an odd sort of way. When things hadn't worked Stiles had found a way to talk to him. Then for a while things had been good. Derek nearly found himself ending class early on more than one occasion just so he could get home to him. That had never been a problem before either. Stiles had turned his life upside down. But most days Derek didn't even mind that he had. But what about Stiles? Didn't he want to go home? What about his father? Another way Stiles wasn't like Derek. He had someone to go home to. Derek sighed. What was he supposed to do? He wanted Stiles but he didn't want to want him because he certainly couldn't keep him. But he didn't want to hurt Stiles anymore either. He sighed again. This was why he was alone. He didn't know how to be with people. He wasn't good with people. It just would have been so much easier if he hadn't claimed Stiles in the first place. Derek gritted his teeth and backed off those thoughts. He couldn't think about that. The full moon had passed but he'd been away from his mate. The urges were still there. Urges of things he could not have. Just remembering how badly he'd wanted to come back set his teeth on edge.

He sat up and tore a hand through his hair, freezing when Stiles stirred behind him.
"Derek?" he questioned sleepily.
"Hey," Derek returned lamely.
"Where are you going?" Stiles questioned, sitting up and yawning.
"Not going," Derek breathed, unsure if he was lying, "just thinking."
"Bout what?" Stiles squinted at him as he asked and Derek couldn't help a small smile.
"You," he answered honestly.
"Oh." Stiles blinked a few times as his throat flushed. Derek wondered for the first time if Stiles had been sleeping well either.
"Have you been sleeping?" he questioned, examining the dopey way Stiles was still staring at him.
"I just slept," Stiles told him, frowning slightly.
"No I meant," Derek paused, realizing he was smiling again, "never mind," he let out with a quick laugh.
"Can we be done fighting now?" Stiles questioned. Derek's stomach twisted and he nodded.
"Yeah. We can be done fighting now." Stiles relaxed then, leaning back against the wall.
"Good," Stiles mumbled. "Don't wanna fight anymore." His eyes closed again and he sighed. Derek wondered how awake he actually was.
"I don't either," he admitted. "You hungry?" he questioned after another moment.
"Mm," Stiles managed, sliding back down into the bed.
"Tired?" Derek tried next. Stiles smiled again.
"Five more minutes."
"Okay," he agreed on a whisper. Stiles' hand reached out blindly, landing on his wrist before his fingers curled and he sighed again. Derek slid back into the bed and leaned against the wall. He tried not to think about how good it felt to have Stiles hold onto him. He still had no idea what he was going to do. All he knew was that right now he was going to lay here with Stiles.

When Derek returned with Pop-Tarts Stiles woke again. It was a few minutes before he sat up and looked at Derek.
"So we're okay?" he questioned slowly.
"We will be I think," Derek told him, handing off the blue box. Stiles took a package and tore into it before looking back to him.
"I mean we don't need to…" he visibly hesitated, "talk about it?" Derek shrugged.
"I don't know how to do this Stiles."
"Do this?" Stiles questioned, biting into his Pop-Tart. Derek sighed quietly.
"I don't know how to toe the line between keeping you happy and getting too close."
"Well yeah but," Stiles' heart began to accelerate, "there's not like actually a chance of that happening is there? Getting too close?" He glanced to the very limited space between them and sat up before scooting back slightly. "I mean we're just…we hang out. Right?"
"I'm under the impression that I shouldn't lie right now," Derek admitted dryly. Stiles' heart was pounding now and he laughed quickly before looking away.
"Wh-what does that even mean? I mean yeah lying can be bad I guess but it can also be good. You know what we don't need to talk. Nope I think we're good. We're just not going to fight anymore and you're not going to yell at me anymore and everything-"
"Stiles. Take a deep breath." Stiles took a huge bite of Pop-Tart and chewed slowly. "Now do you want me to answer the question or was it rhetorical?" Stiles winced at him before swallowing noisily.
"I guess. Um. Answer?" Derek watched him for a moment and Stiles took another bite.
"No I don't think we just hang out," he said slowly. Stiles was nodding before he'd even finished. "I don't like it when we fight, I feel horrible actually, and I don't like being away from you."
"I don't like it when we're apart either," Stiles admitted quietly. "Is that because," he paused to lick his lips, "because of the bonding? Because I really didn't mean to."

Derek paused to take a breath because his mate was uncomfortable and after everything they'd been through in the last week all he wanted to do was pull him close again.
"It might be," he told him, deciding to stick with the honesty. "The trouble with bonding is that it just sort of starts on its own. It's difficult to tell when it's actually happening or when you're just getting closer naturally."
"As opposed to supernaturally?" Stiles questioned wryly.
"It was easier before," Derek admitted. "My wolf liked you and I didn't. There was clear definition. But now…"
"We're hanging out," Stiles insisted.
"We've gotten closer in any case," Derek half agreed. "But I don't know how much of it would be there if I was human."
"This wouldn't be happening if you were human," Stiles pointed out. "I wouldn't be here, you probably wouldn't be here either and if we somehow even did cross paths you'd never give me a second glance." Derek tried to imagine it for a moment. Being human. Still having a family. Being normal. He glanced to Stiles and tried to imagine he'd never seen him before.
"Maybe you're right," he murmured, because the silence was getting too long. But Derek drifted back to his fantasy. Seeing Stiles across a street. The sun would be shining, of course, and Derek would have turned away, tuning out Laura or his parents or whoever he was with. Stiles would have been with someone too, probably talking to them with a huge smile on his face, hands waving through the air. Derek thought he would have smiled. He certainly would have spared a second glance. At least.

A/N: Lalala I have no idea what I am doing.

Random POV switches just happened I swear.

I also don't know if I'm going to be staying with Derek's POV or not…

But at least he's willing to admit that he's feeling things. That's progress. Meanwhile Stiles is still…well…I think there's a reason his name pretty much rhymes with denial.

Oh and I know it wasn't clear but yes Derek and Shane were fighting for rights over Stiles and because Stiles interrupted the fight no Shane did not win.

And the whole transplanting memories through scratches? Yeah we'll see if Shane was successful or not later. ;)

Okay I'm done stalling now and I'm going to post.

Thank you.