A/N: So sorry about the long, long wait. I've been writing notes for this story on paper at work since my last update but I've either been too busy to type it up or too distracted. Sorry sorry.

Also, please note the update to the story's rating. Due to the nature of Kate's attacks and certain things that happen next chapter (that were not actually part of the original plan) the rating has gone up. I apologize if this inconveniences anyone. I originally did not plan for the fic to need the higher rating.

Chapter 14

They saw the smoke well before they pulled into the parking lot. Parrish was out of the car as soon as it was in park, shouting orders at the crowd of some thirty crew members who were standing around dumbstruck. His door was wide open and the car was beeping anxiously after him because he left the keys in the ignition. But Derek couldn't breathe.

A hundred feet in front of him, Stiles' tour bus was engulfed in flames. As far as he could tell it was just the exterior being marred, but he was terrified to get a closer look. The ground around the bus was littered with fire, licking at the soaking asphalt. Through Jordan's open door, Derek could smell the thick, putrid scent of burning gasoline, and he almost threw up. He couldn't see Stiles. He couldn't see Stiles anywhere.

Stumbling out of the car, he tried to suck in air, but the fumes made him gag. People were running, trying to douse the flames with any source of water they could find, but the fire made a ten foot barrier around the bus. The fire clawed up the side of the metal, searching for weaknesses, searching for the gas tank, for anything it could burn, and Derek was reminded of a stage in starlight and a damaged power line.

Most people, even Peter thought he'd been too far away to see the accident, but he remembered it all clearly. He'd been just close enough to feel the heat of the flames, to hear Paige scream, and he remembered the way he'd screamed back, but no one had heard him over everyone and everything else. He'd tried to stop the accident from ever happening, had tried to warn his uncle and everyone else, but no one had listened. He'd been left as a sideline decoration, forced to watch tragedy ruin everything.

And now Stiles' tour bus was on fire, and Stiles was probably on it, and Derek was on god damn crutches, and how the hell was he supposed to help? He couldn't run through fire the way he could shield Stiles from a car. He couldn't just push the bus out of the way like he could push Stiles out from under a stage light. He couldn't do anything! He couldn't-

"Derek!" Laura's voice snapped him to attention and he gasped loudly. His sister grabbed his face and forced him to look away from the bus. "Derek, don't look!"

"What?" he asked, voice hoarse, chest wrecked. "Laura-"

"They're probably fine. The firemen are on their way. Breathe, Derek!" And at her words, he realized she was right – he hadn't been breathing. He took an exaggerated breath to convince her he was listening. "Good. I need you, Derek. Give me your arm."

He balanced on his crutches, held out his right arm, and watched as she shoved his sleeve out of the way. Her eyes were hard on his wrist, his still completely blank wrist. They both let out heavy sighs.

"Good," Laura said, softer. If Stiles had been killed, Derek's numbers would have returned, but thank god they hadn't.

"Laura," Derek began, bringing her eyes up to his. "You said 'they' are probably fine. Who's they?"

He'd never seen his sister look so grim. "Stiles isn't the only one on the bus," she said. "Scott and Melissa are with him."

Scanning the crowd quickly, Derek took only a moment to find Kira in the midst of it. Shy, timid Kira who ran away when she found out Scott was meant for Allison, who could barely look Derek in the eye, and who cared for Stiles when he was sick – and there she was, screaming angrily at Peter.

Shock didn't quite cover the emotion that hit Derek first, but pride was definitely what followed. Peter was a statue, eyes glued to the fire and unblinking. Until Derek got closer, he couldn't even tell his uncle was breathing. For a moment, he didn't understand the look on Peter's face, but then he realized the truth. Peter was experiencing the same thing Derek had – he was reliving the fire, only Peter had been much, much closer to that fire, and none of Kira's shouting was going to bring him out of it.

Moving as quickly as his crutches would let him, Derek came up by the girl and placed a hand on her shoulder. She spun on him, prepared to continue shouting, and stopped abruptly.

"Derek-?" she gasped, and that's when her face got tight and her eyes started watering.

"He's not going to listen," Derek said calmly.

"But he's in charge! He's supposed to be doing something! Anything!" Kira declared, her tears not escaping.

"He can't," Derek stressed. "I can't. But you can. So do what you can do."

For a moment, it seemed she was lost, her wet eyes flickering back and forth between different parts of everything happening, and then she nodded. Her body went tense as she clenched her fists and then she was running into the concert hall. The concert was over, and the entire team was gathered in the back lot, around the fire, so Derek had no idea where she was going, but he let her go regardless.

Once she disappeared through the stage door, Derek's eyes immediately went back to the bus. He searched the windows, but they were covered by the blinds and he couldn't see anything. Good, he thought. There was no orange glow from inside. There was no smoke between the glass and the blinds. The fire was still outside… hopefully.

Sirens wailed as fire trucks headed their way, and Derek only hoped it would be in time. He could see the hood of the bus starting to smoke and he hoped that didn't mean the engine was on fire. Cursing, he looked down at his wrist.

Still blank.

He pulled his phone out and took a deep breath of the clogged air before dialing Stiles again. Did he even have his phone on him if he'd just gotten off stage? It rang and rang, but this time when the voicemail picked up, Derek didn't end the call.

"Hey, you've reached Stiles. Can't pick up the phone right now cause I'm super busy, but leave me an awesome message and I'll get back to you sometime between the recording studio and the stage. Stay cool!"

"Stiles," he said into the vacuum of the voicemail. "I know you can't hear me right now, but the firemen are almost here. I can't run through fire to get to you or Scott or anyone – I can't save you from this one, but you have to be saved. Understand? Stay low. Stay alive long enough for them to get to you. Hear me? Get through this, because I need to talk to you about something important.… I'll see you in a few minutes. Bye."

Their relationship was too young for it to end so soon, and Derek refused to believe he could lose his soul mate so quickly. Stiles was fine. His wrist said so.

Kira burst back onto the scene, three fire extinguishers in her arms. She handed one to Jordan as she rushed past him, and then she ran to Laura with the other. Before the fire trucks were even within viewable distance, the three of them puffed out little bursts of CO2 onto the burning asphalt, making their way closer and closer to the bus.

By the time the trucks finally did pull up, the ground had mostly stopped burning. Kira looked back at Derek meaningfully, and he nodded in agreement before turning and moving over to greet the firemen. He explained the situation, how many were trapped, and what had been done so far. Then he could only watch as they hooked up their hoses and started spraying down the bus. Kira, Jordan, and Laura scrambled to the side like a startled trio of birds when the fire captain shouted at them, and there they fluctuated between bristling with indignation and bouncing in anticipation.

Derek was still. He didn't bounce. He didn't shift. He just stood to the side and watched as the powerful spray of water fought against the burning gas. Sometimes it seemed the fire would win, moving away from the spray to spring up somewhere else, and the fight went on for far too long. But then, slowly, the fire lost its grip and caved under the oppressive smothering of the water.

An ambulance pulled up about then, but Derek wasn't paying attention to them. He watched as two firefighters pried open the bus door and looked in at a scorched stairwell. So the fire had gotten inside. Derek's gut twisted painfully.

The two men climbed the narrow steps, and every moment they were out of sight gave Derek a heart attack. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. He couldn't help. He could only wait, and it tore him open.

Someone walked backwards down the steps. It was one of the firefighters. Then the second one's legs became visible. They were gently carrying someone between them, and it seemed the whole parking lot was holding its breath.

It wasn't Stiles. It was Melissa.

Her shirt had been half burnt off, and her visible shoulder was an angry, distorted red and black. At first Derek thought she was unconscious, but as they carried her past him to the ambulance, he saw her eyes were open and she was mumbling incoherently. Tearing his eyes from her and her burns, Derek looked back at the bus, waiting for Stiles.

There were no more firefighters on board, but someone was stumbling down the stairs. Two legs. No four. And then Stiles's face became visible, unmarred but anxious. Scott's arm was around his shoulder, and while the assistant manager didn't appear to have any wounds, he leaned heavily on Stiles and was a sickly pale.

"Scott!" Kira shouted and ran to help support him. Scott looked impossibly grateful to see her and once his arm was around her shoulders, he leaned his head against hers and started crying.

The trio moved as quickly as they could over to the ambulance so they could sit Scott down by his mom. The paramedics were setting her up on a gurney, and then starting up first aid as they loaded her into the vehicle. Paramedics flocked around Scott and Stiles too, but the singer waved them off, actually batting at the hands of one woman who reached for him. He turned, eyes looking back at the bus and at Derek, who stood in the way.

"Derek." His name was almost too quiet to hear, but it drew Derek out of his panic and he let out the heaviest breath possible before sucking in a new lungful.

"Stiles," he said and took one impeded step toward the singer. Then Stiles shook his head and did all the walking. He moved swiftly, closing the distance between them and wrapping his arms around Derek's torso and holding on tight.

"Oh my god, Dude. I thought we were gonna die," he admitted softly into Derek's shoulder. "I was… I was so scared."

"Me too." Derek let his crutches drop and supported himself on his one good leg so he could wrap Stiles up properly in his arms. "But you're okay. You're all gonna be okay."

"Melissa-," Stiles started but Derek shook his head.

"She's going to be fine," he assured.

They stood that way for a long time, long enough for the ambulance to drive away with its three new passengers – Melissa, Scott, and Kira, long enough for their police detail to finish doing a sweep of the area, long enough that it should have been uncomfortable but it wasn't, because as long as they were holding on to each other, it meant they were both alive.

"What about Kate?" Stiles murmured finally.

"I'm going to find her," Derek murmured back.

"Oh yeah? And then what?" Stiles asked with a small snort of disbelief.

"And then I'm going to kill her."

This tour had far too many hospital visits on the pay roll. First Stiles got electrical burns on his hand. Then Derek got a broken leg. And on the final day of the tour, Melissa was admitted for second-degree burns to the right side of her torso and shoulders.

Day one, no one was admitted to see Melissa. Nurses had to carefully strip her clothing off and wash her. She was bandaged and given an IV and monitored closely. She was drowsy from the pain meds and often slept, the doctor informed the group in the waiting room, but she would be fine.

Scott was treated for smoke inhalation and, after a brief talk with the on-site psychologist, was given anti-anxiety medication for the duration of his hospital stay. Kira never left his side, except for the brief time she needed to use the bathroom. He was never alone, however, because his phone rang part way through day one with a call from Allison and Isaac, who were halfway across the country. Not only had they heard the news on television and the internet, but their arms had been severely uncomfortable where their numbers used to be.

All in all, both McCall's were getting the best help possible for their situations.

Stiles was virtually unharmed. Beyond his panic over almost dying, he had no smoke inhalation problems, no burns, not even a scratch. As he was the only uninjured party, he was the first to give the police a description of what happened.

"We were just heading back to the bus after the concert. Everything was normal, you know? And then Scott pointed out that there were like… three hoses lying randomly around the bus. I was already on the bus, well on the steps anyway, but I noticed Kate Argent outside behind Scott and Ms. McCall. She had a lighter, like a little red one you grab at the cash register as a last minute idea, right? And she had this big canister beside her where all the hoses connected. And when she had my attention, she turned a nozzle on the canister and all the hoses started hissing and spewing gasoline everywhere. It got Ms. McCall in the arm as she pushed me and Scott backwards into the bus more. It was all over the stairs and my shoes and-And then Kate lit the lighter and tossed it at us and the parking lot went up in flames and-"

Stiles had to stop, his breathing becoming erratic, and he pressed his arm over his chest the way he used to do when his scars would ache. But he had no scars now, and Derek recognized the start of a panic attack before the cop did. He stepped up beside Stiles and ran his fingers down the singer's pale arm, gently coaxing it away from his chest. By the time Derek had the arm in his grip, his left hand cradling the forearm and the right hand gently drawing circles over Stiles' wrist, the younger man was breathing normally.

"Melissa got the door to the bus shut, but not before a spark got in and lit up the stairs and her shirt. Scott pulled her up the stairs and smothered the fire with the blanket from the couch. I grabbed the fire extinguisher from the closet and put out the stairs, and when I turned around, Scott had his mom propped up in the corner and he was trying to find something cold for her shoulder. I grabbed the first aid kit, but there was no burn cream in it. By then, smoke was starting to come in through the cracks around the doors and Scott pulled me down to the floor with him and his mom. He folded the blanket so the slightly burnt side was away from me and then he draped it over my head. He told me to breathe slowly and then he curled over me, and we stayed that way until the fire hoses stopped. I wanted to get up sooner, when the water started, but Scott wouldn't let me. He said the smoke would hurt my throat. He said…. He said I was a singer and my career would be over if he let the smoke get to me, and he wasn't going to let that happen."

"And did you happen to see which way Ms. Argent ran afterward?" the officer asked, voice calm and soft in an attempt to seem less threatening and cold-hearted, but Stiles glared at him anyway.

"I was a little distracted by my mom burning alive in front of me. Sorry," he said, and he didn't sound sorry at all.

"Your mom?" the officer asked, forehead creasing.

Derek stepped in then, a hand on Stiles' tense shoulder. "The McCalls and the Stilinskis are very close. Melissa has been like Stiles' second mom since his mother passed away. They're family."

"Oh, I see." And Derek wasn't sure if the officer was more observant of Stiles' feelings toward Melissa or of Stiles' feelings toward the officer himself. The glare on the singer's face left nothing to the imagination when it came to his regard for this little statement interview. Clearing his throat, the officer said, "I think I have all I need from you, Mr. Stilinski. Thank you, and I assure you we're doing everything we can to apprehend Kate Argent. Good night."

When they were alone again, Derek led Stiles to a chair and they sat for several long minutes in silence, the tension slowly, slowly leaving Stiles' shoulders. Derek was always within reach, but he'd never been a touchy kind of guy, and while he found a newfound pleasure in touching Stiles, he also knew that there were times when people just didn't want to be touched.

Eventually, however, Stiles leaned over the arms of the chairs so that their shoulders were pressed heavily together. He sighed and Derek grunted in agreement. In the returning silence afterward, Derek checked his phone and saw a message from Laura. She'd left to check on Peter at the hotel, and according to her message he was still shaken but trying to pretend he wasn't by jumping down her throat about everything.

"Were you serious?" Stiles asked.

"About what?" Derek asked and opened a reply message. He told her to knock Peter out with sleeping meds and leave him on the side of the road. With a little 'jk' added in, of course.

"About killing Kate," Stiles said in a hushed rush. When Derek looked over at him, the singer's eyes were scanning the room to see if someone had heard him.

Gently, he put a hand over Stiles' on the arm rest, and Stiles jumped in surprise, head snapping back to look at him. Derek tried to put every serious thought he had into his expression and frowned. "Stiles, she's out of control. Of course I'm going to try and stop her legally first. But I'll put an end to her before I let her try to hurt you again."

"But- But the tour is over. What is she gonna do now?" Stiles asked, brow knitting together tightly. "I mean she tried to blow up my bus. Really, what else could she have to throw at me?"

"Pens," Derek said seriously, and Stiles looked concerned through his confusion, but then Derek's lips lifted slightly and Stiles started to laugh. It was only a month ago that Derek suggested pens as a weapon at the signing, and Stiles clearly remembered the incident.

"Pens?!" He nearly reached shouting volume, and the nurse at the desk shot them a warning look, but Stiles wasn't looking back. "Oh my God, you're sense of humor makes a comeback. I don't think I want to ever get used to the shock. That is awesome, dude."

"Well hopefully we both live long enough that you do, in fact, get used to it." Derek laced his fingers with Stiles' then and held on tight. Stiles didn't even hesitate. He held back just as strong.

The morning of the second day, Melissa was moved out of the ICU and they were permitted to visit her in groups of two. Scott and Stiles went in first, of course, while the rest of them waited patiently in the lobby. She was alright. The doctor had given them a brief but informative explanation of her condition. None of the burns were severe enough to merit skin grafting, and she was responding well to the medication.

Knowing that, the people waiting their turn were able to breathe freely.

A few minutes into Scott and Stiles' visit, Derek's attention was drawn down the hall to the main desk. A man was talking loudly with the nurse stationed there, and generally Derek wouldn't care, except he recognized the voice.

Leaving his returned sister, Kira, and a handful of crew behind, Derek headed toward the commotion, first calmly and then briskly as he got closer. Wearing an old brown jacket and blue jeans, standing at the counter was none other than John Stilinski himself.

"Look, can you please just tell me where to go? Melissa McCall. She was admitted yesterday," he was saying, his voice stressed.

"I'm sorry, sir. I can have a nurse find her son for you, but without his approval, I can't let anyone through," the young man behind the desk said in a tone that suggested he'd said this before.

"But-," John tried again.

"Sir, this is a sensitive case, and I can't just tell anyone where she is. Now you can either take a seat while I fetch someone for you, or you can leave, or if you continue to cause a scene, I can call security," the young man explained with a note of finality.

Clearing his throat, Derek stepped up with his one crutch and shook his head. "That won't be necessary," he said. "He's fine. He can come back to see her."

"I'm sorry?" the nurse asked, affronted, clearly doubting Derek's ability to grant permission.

Doing his best to smile and be polite, Derek pulled out his Hale Security badge. "I'm part of Ms. McCall's security detail. Mr. Stilinski is clear. Her son is currently in with her, but I assure you, he grants his approval."

With a sniff of disapproval at John, the nurse waved him on, and John's face broke into an expression of extreme relief. He closed the brief distance between him and Derek easily and wrapped him up in a hug. It was unusual for Derek, being hugged by adults outside of his family. Well, technically everyone Derek knew was an adult, but more adult-ier adults. People who could be his parents, adults.

Then, with a sudden jolt, Derek realized that John Stilinski was his parent. He was Stiles' father, and if Derek and Stiles got married – which Derek could definitely see happening – then John would be Derek's father too. He relaxed into the embrace and managed to pat John around the shoulders once before the hug was completed.

"Thank you," John said and then stood back to let Derek lead him.

Casually, Derek walked back to the waiting room where the others were sitting. Casually was difficult though. Despite John's obvious relief, Derek could feel the man's eyes staring a hole in his back the entire walk. This was their first meeting since Stiles' wrist made front page news, and Derek knew for a fact that Stiles and his father had been on the phone for an hour that night.

Laura was on her feet as soon as she saw John trailing behind Derek, and she quickly stepped over to greet him.

"Mr. Stilinski, what a surprise. I mean, I'm glad you could come. Melissa will be very happy to see you," she said, and he took her hands in his.

"Thank you. And please, call me John. After all, we're sort of like family at this point, right?" And though he said it smoothly, he sounded nervous, like maybe he'd somehow heard wrong and was lying without meaning to.

Laura smiled and laughed softly. "Right," she said and John's shoulders relaxed. His lips lifted up, but it wasn't a full smile. His mind was still on Melissa. "Oh!" Laura exclaimed and motioned in the direction of Melissa's room. "Melissa is fine, by the way. She's in her own room now and they're letting us see her in groups of two. Scott and Stiles are in there right now, and you can go second if you'd like. She has burns over her upper left torso and arm, but the doctor says that if she keeps up with her therapy and covers them from the sun, her scaring will be minimal."

"Good. That's good," John murmured, more to fill the silence than to communicate. He ran a hand through his hair and down his neck, and then he met Derek's eyes. It was as if in those few seconds, he'd forgotten Derek was there, and seeing him again startled something back to life behind his eyes. "Derek, right?"

"Right," Derek said and shifted his weight.

John's eyes flickered down to Derek's cast and back up, but when he opened his mouth it wasn't his voice that called out. "Dad?" Stiles exclaimed, reentering the room. There was enough time for the elder Stilinski to look up and then Stiles was barreling into his father's arms.

"Stiles." And Derek had never heard a name said with such love and relief, not ever. The pair held tight to each other, reveling in their ability to still do so. "God, I was so worried." John sucked in a deep breath and smiled slightly. "Scott said the two of you are alright, but I mean… Are you alright?"

"Yeah, of course. A hundred percent," Stiles assured as he pulled away. "Why?"

"Well you didn't call me. I had to get Scott on the line of all people to get an update," his father said, a scolding tone laying claim to every word.

"Ah. I- I'm sorry, Dad. I was… I guess I got distracted." Stiles looked down at the tile floor and rubbed his neck, looking very much like his father had moments ago.

John looked up from Stiles and over at Derek once more, a vaguely suspicious look on his face. "Uh-huh," he said and reached gently for his son's right arm. "You've gone through quite a bit in the last week, haven't you, son?" he asked, rubbing a thumb over Stiles' wrist.

That brought a smile back to Stiles' face and he nodded, glancing over at Derek. "Yeah. Not all of it's been completely terrible," he said and drew a small grin from Derek as well. "Oh, but Dad, you should go see Melissa while she's awake. We can talk about me later."

"Oh we will," John warned, but his face was warm. He ruffled Stiles' hair a bit and nodded at Derek before passing them both. A nurse was waiting at the corner of the room and she greeted John as he approached and then led him from the room.

"Oh we will," Stiles mimicked in a too-deep voice and wiggled his head back and forth. Derek let out a tiny snort and shook his head.

Preview Chapter 15:

With the crisis seemingly on pause, everyone is faced with the reality that they still have lives to get back to that don't include hanging around hospital rooms and watching for Kate Argent's next move. Stiles has to get back to the studio before the record company pops a vein, but that's okay, because he's been aching to have Derek hear his new song. Well, aching for that and something a little bit – okay a lot bit- more physical. And Derek's been aching for that as well.