The whisper of dreams

The sound of running water filling the giant tub that took up most of the bathroom slowly woke Stiles from his slumber. He was a mass of aches, bruises and what felt like full body paper cuts. Just moving his arm to push the pillow off his head caused him to moan like the waking dead. The image of a Stiles zombie made him chuckle but he quickly stopped because that hurt too.

"Hey tall, dark and over-protective." Stiles didn't even need to open his eyes to know that his mate was standing over him. The bond was blazing with the wolf's need to protect and cherish. Stiles would have stretched slowly to tease Derek with the play of his muscles under his skin, to feel the burn of desire flood their bond, but he hurt too much to even try.

Derek's hands were amazingly gently as he untangled the covers from around his legs and hips, lifting Stiles gently to pull them from under his hips. Warm pads of his fingertips traced the bruises, now in their full glory of deep purples and blues that covered his body.

"I ran you a warm bath." That was all the warning Stiles had before he was lifted from the bed and carried into the bathroom. Glancing at the mirror across the room he could see why Derek was acting like werewolf bubble wrap, Stiles' reflection look awful, a mottled mass of colors that clashed with his pale skin and made him look like he should have stayed for a couple of days more in the hospital.

Part of him wanted to complain, to assert that he wasn't badly hurt and could walk to the tub on his own power but the vibrating NEED that made the bond between them thrum was enough to let him know that it was essential for his mate to care for him.

Stiles sighed as Derek placed him in the water, the temperature just the perfect heat to slowly unknot the tension in his shoulders and lower back. He hissed as the water briefly stung the numerous cuts that covered his body from the flying glass but soon the pain slipped away allowing him to bask in the warmth of the enormous bath.

"One of the doctors said that this would help with the pain from all the bruising." Derek said as he poured a handful of crystals into the water and stirred. The gritty texture tickled against Stiles' skin for a moment before dissolving away. It made the water feel smoother and silkier. He let out a soft moan of pleasure as the pain seemed to drift away.

Derek sat by his side as he partially floated arms and legs buoyant in the water as his bottom anchored him. His mate rubbed soothing circles with his thumb over Stiles' forehead before running his fingers through his hair letting his nails softly scratch his scalp.

Stiles was half asleep before Derek picked up the wash rag and gently started to wash his body. He rubbed a thick lather of soap across Stiles' exposed chest before lifting one arm out of the water to do the same. Derek cleaned each finger while slowly massaging his palm with his thumb.

His mate worked on his legs, avoiding the deep bruises on his left thigh, before helping Stiles sit up so he could wash his back. By the time Derek was finished Stiles was drooping in his mate's firm grasp. It took him two tries before he could remember how to use his legs as Derek lifted him from the tub to dry him off.

There were so many things he wanted to do to Derek, places he wanted to run his tongue across, needing to chase the slow bead of water that ran from his collarbone down his chest only to disappear in the blue shirt Derek was wearing.

"You've got too many clothes on." Stiles grumbled leaning his head against his mate's chest and listening to the steady beat of his heart.

"It's going to stay that way for a while. You are in no shape for anything rough today. I should have kept my hands off you yesterday. The doctor said I needed to be careful of your wounds."

"I hate my doctor. Let's not listen to him." Derek chuckled, his warm breath caressing the top of Stiles' ear. He finished drying him and led him back to bed, tucking the covers around him and dropping a soft kiss to his lips.

Stiles wanted to reach up and grab Derek, pull him down and kiss him silly but his eyes wouldn't stay open and his body seemed to go lax and Derek's arms. The last coherent memory he had was Derek sliding into bed next to him and pulling him into his warm embrace.

Max was talking but he couldn't understand him. The seats were sticky and when he lifted his hand up to look it was covered in blood, Max's blood. He tried to tell Max, get him to stop and listen but he older man just stood up and walked to his seat on the airplane, buckling in as if he couldn't hear Stiles screaming his name.

A stewardess came up and tried to offer Stiles a boxed meal filled with strange vials of purple liquid that shimmered in the weak light given off by the passing street lamps.

His car stopped and a tall blond man in a lab coat helped him out, walked him across the street and helped him into an identical car. Stiles looked at the driver. Director Argent smiled cheerfully over the divider at him. "Buckle up young man. It's going to be bumpy."

Stiles turned, struggled to open the door only to find that there was no handle on the door. A nurse, her sharp white uniform covered in happy face stickers, tapped on his window. "Want one?" She asked before slapping a huge sticker on the side of his car.

"And here we go!" Cackled Mrs. Argent from the driver's seat, pulling away from the sidewalk. Stiles watched the nurse walk quickly away her stickers slowly blowing up like balloons until they floated away into the sky only to pop, raining blood down that soaked her hands and face.

Alongside his car the giant sticker started to swell. Stiles beat against the glass of the divider trying to warn the driver, the thick fingered cart owner, that the sticker was about to blow. "Just roll with it." The driver growled.

So he did. He rolled over and over, his world going in slow motion as the people in his life tumbled about him like clothes in a dryer. His mother and father, Max and Laura, and Derek flipped and rolled about him. He tried to catch them, could even feel their fingers brush his but in the end each tumbled out the moon roof and disappeared into the darkness.

"Derek!" Stiles sat up covered in sweat franticly reaching for his mate.

"I'm here, love. I'm right here." Just hearing his voice wasn't enough. Stiles flung himself at Derek running his hands across every inch of skin he could reach, hands fluttering over the strong features of his face, down the column of his neck, and across the wide expanse of his chest.

"Turn on the light Derek. I need to see you. I need to know you're real." Derek reached over and flicked on the lamp next to the bed. Stiles crawled into his mates lap before grabbing his face between his hands and kissing him, pouring out all his emotions into that single connection between the two of them.

"Shhhh." Derek whispered as he ran his hands soothingly up and down Stiles' back. "You had a nightmare. Everything is going to be okay."

"No Derek. It's not going to be okay. I know who planted the bomb on the car. It was the nurse from Zillarrezko. She walked us out and placed something on the side of the car and then walked away. She didn't go back inside the building; she was walking as quickly as she could to get away, to get around the corner. And then the car blew up. She planted it, Derek."

Derek's body went stiff beneath Stiles' weight. He didn't ask if Stiles was sure, the bond let him feel the conviction of his mate's words. "Which nurse?"

"She's the one that took Max's blood samples and gave him that weird ass shot."

Derek stood, lifting Stiles along with him as he rolled to his feet and out of the bed. Wrapping Stiles protectively in the thick blanket that lay at the foot of the bed, he carried him over to a wide back chair.

Derek's grabbed his phone and pressed a button. Within seconds he was ordering a dozen pack members to join Laura and the betas at the hospital, warning them to check everyone on the staff.

His next call was to send pack members to Zillarrezko to obtain every record on file for the doctors and nurses that treated Max at the site. As he talked he quickly pulled on his clothes, dark jeans and a black t-shirt that stretched across his chest like a second skin.

"I need you dressed too, Stiles. You're not leaving my side until we get to the bottom of this."

Stiles smiled. He had been convinced that Derek would leave him behind with a guard for his own good. "I didn't think you would let me come."

Derek dropped to the ground in front of Stiles, grabbing his arms and looking at him intensely. "I need you safe and all I really want to do is lock you up somewhere that no one could hurt you until all this blows over. But I know you! It may have been less than a week but I KNOW you. You would never forgive me if I coddled you, treated you as less. So I am taking you with me. You see things from a different prospective and that's something I need. I need you to tell me what doesn't fit, which piece is out of place."

"Then I better get dressed." Stiles pulled Derek closer knowing how much his mate was fighting against his own instincts to allow Stiles to stand on his own two feet, to walk by his side as equal. He kissed Derek quickly before forcing himself to his feet, trying to ignore the burn from the bruises to skin and muscle. "Remind me to show you just how much I love you when we get back." He tossed over his shoulder as he pulled on a shirt.

Stiles didn't miss the way Derek's eyes flashed but there would be time for that later. He hopped into his shoes as he followed Derek down the stairs and into the moonless night. The rest of the pack moved around them guarding their flanks as they headed off toward the city in a fleet of dark colored cars. The pack was on a hunt and wouldn't stop until they ran their prey to ground.

AN: Sorry this is on the short side. I've been sick - - - SICK! - - - since Thursday and I've gotten nothing done. I feel this is not "up to snuff" but I wanted to keep to my posting schedule. Please forgive me of all errors and other glitches of grammar and what-not. Wednesday will be better.