Hi there :) It's kind of a shorter chapter, but this one and the next few will be time frames for recovery and stuff and it's incredibly difficult to write sometimes. I hope it is satisfactory anyways! (If i used long, sometimes undded words here it's because i'm re-reading Pride and Prejudice again and it's infecting my brain.)
When Stiles awoke the next day, after a night of tossing and turning and screaming her way through nightmares, something was different. Once she was lucid, and obviously still in pain, she pulled her hand away from Derek's wrist and turned to look out of the window beside his bed. When Derek tried to talk to her, he got very little acknowledgement. Offers of food and drinks were ignored, even Lydia's demanding went unrecognised. By the time half the morning had passed, Derek had taken to sitting in the den with Lydia, Jackson, Erica and Boyd just waiting for Stiles to make a move. Isaac and Danny were on their way back from the Sheriffs after staying the night keeping him company, and he was just hopeful that Stiles would at least show some reaction to Isaac and his unbelievably effective puppy dog eye technique.
None of them had said anything, just came away from Derek's bedroom with troubled expressions on their faces, but they could all feel the worry radiating from the others. Even Derek himself, used to being silent and broody even if he doesn't admit it to anyone but his own conscious, was finding it hard to keep a lid on the bubbling pot that was anxiety growing inside of him. Stiles had never, not once since he'd known her, been completely silent for this long. As far as he could tell, she hadn't even shifted position in bed since she'd moved away from him earlier that morning. The most he'd seen was a flit of eyes and a slight turn in head when Lydia had sighed and raised her voice slightly. Derek almost chuckled at the memory of Lydia hovering over the bed, hands on her hips with an incredulous look on her face. 'Stiles, so help me God, if you do not start talking or at least looking at me right now I will commandeer you into girly sleep over's for the next ten years of your life.' It was an idle threat he'd heard before, although never in the context of actually wanting Stiles to speak more. That had made the girl currently silent and frozen in his bed, scrunch her face up and widen her eyes, before giving into anything Lydia wanted from her. This time, Stiles had just turned her head slightly and glanced at Lydia before going back to staring out of the window.
Even more worrisome than the not moving, talking, eating or drinking was the scent of overwhelming pain and fear that permeated the air around Stiles. It had dissipated a little yesterday after they had gotten her somewhat cleaned up, but it was back now. And not just physical pain, but there was emotional pain mixed in there too. Derek didn't know how the two could have different scents, but it was like one caused his skin to itch and the other his stomach to turn into knots. He had hardly wanted to leave her alone, in fear she act irrationally and do something drastic before he had time to get to her. But Lydia and Erica had convinced him that Stiles was more sensible than that even in this state, and so they'd left Stiles to herself.
They'd been sat in silence for almost half an hour, everyone listening intently for any movement upstairs, when Isaac and Danny returned home. Both looked tired and haggard, dark circles beneath their eyes and smelling like worry.
"How is she?" Isaac inquired as soon as he was close enough to ask quietly. Derek sighed and tilted his head back, squeezing the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stop the stress headache he was forming.
"She hasn't said anything or moved at all since she woke up this morning." Jackson informed them, burying his nose into Lydia's hair as she cuddled in closer to him. Isaac shot panicked looks between all of them before glancing at the direction of the bedroom above them.
"And you left her alone?" He hissed, pushing back to his feet just seconds after sitting down.
"Stiles is fine, we'd be able to hear if anything was happening." Erica looked up at Isaac like he'd gone insane for not realising that. He shot her back an equally frustrated glance before turning to look at Derek.
"Have you all forgotten that she had training with Deaton? Stiles had been learning to cover her sounds and scent for months, how do you think she hid from us in the woods during those training hunts?!" Isaac demanded, shocking almost everyone. Isaac was often considered soft spoken and damaged, but apparently Stiles' safety had him discovering parts of himself hidden from others. No one had a chance to reply though, as Isaac was out of the room and sprinting up the stairs before any of them could formulate a response. Isaac was at Derek's bedroom door, knocking, by the time the others had followed him up.
"Stiles, it's Isaac. Can I come in?" He asked between knocks, but Derek nudged him away once there was no response and just opened the door. A glance around the room showed that Stiles was no longer in bed, and they could all now clearly hear the sound of the shower running. Underneath the patter of heavy water, was the sounds of harsh scrubbing and the faint scent of blood and tears. He rushed forward, throwing open the door to his bathroom. The sound of sobbing was clear in hear under the deceptive sounds of the shower and Derek reached out to pull the shower curtain aside.
Derek froze, along with everybody else, at the sight of Stiles scratching and scrubbing at her body. Her skin was red, bleeding through some of the more viciously attended area's. She was weeping and gasping for air, and the scent of pain and fear and undertones of disgust rolled off her in waves that made Derek want to both pull her close to him and recoil like he'd been slapped.
Stiles was still scrubbing at herself like she hadn't even realised they were there, and Derek was kind of really glad Stiles seems to have just ripped off the clothes she'd borrowed from him and thrown herself into the shower in her underwear. He snapped himself out of his stupor and, regardless of his clothes, stepped into the shower. He reached out slowly, calling Stiles' name and gently grasped each fast moving hand before they could do any more damage to her already sore skin.
"Stiles. Stop." He commanded gently, pulling her hands closer to himself and away from her to prevent more damage. She looked up at him, eyes wild and pained.
"Can't get them off me. Gotta get them off me. Please Derek. Gotta get them off." She whimpered, curling up on herself.
"You're hurt, Stiles. You're clean, but we need to see how much damage you've done to your skin okay? Can we get out of the shower." Stiles kind of slumped forward into him, forcing him to take her weight with one arm supporting her as he reached behind her to turn the water off.
"Can feel them all over me. Can't get them off Derek. Please. Make them get off me." She whispered over and over into his collarbone. He turned his head and nodded at the towel that hung from the bar on the wall. Lydia and Erica turned and pushed the other boys out of the room before turning back and handing the towel to Derek. Gently, trying not to put too much pressure on Stiles' abused skin, Derek wrapped it around her. Slowly, he bent and slid an arm under her legs, lifting her into the same carry he had given her as they escaped the scene behind the pharmacy yesterday. Stiles shook in his arms, silent now apart from the pained wheezing of her breath and Derek wished he could do something about that cracked rib and the bruises littering her body. As carefully as he could, he sat her down on the edge of his bed, Lydia and Erica taking a seat on either side of her with a smaller towel each. As lightly as they could, they patted the tender, bleeding skin as dry a possible. The white cotton came away stained red and Stiles' skin looked impossibly vicious in its colour. She was shivering and crying silently and he stood, leaving the girls now to help Stiles deal with dressing any of the more damaged area's of skin and changing into some new borrowed clothes of his. The other men in their pack had taken to standing outside of his now closed bedroom door. Jackson was pacing, Boyd leaning against the wall, Isaac and Danny were curled up on the floor, Danny stroking Isaac's hair as he whimpered quietly. Derek sighed and slid down to the floor on the other side of Isaac. The younger wolf curled into him, burying his head into Derek's damp collarbone and it was then that he realised his clothes were still soaked from standing in the shower with Stiles.
"She's going to be okay, Isaac." Derek whispered into the boys ear, and Isaac shook next to him.
"What would have happened if we hadn't gotten here and no one remembered the training she had?" Isaac whimpered.
"I don't know." Derek sighed. "But it's good that you remembered, you helped her. That's good Isaac, and once she's clean and dry and got clothes on I'm sure she'll want to see you, okay?" Isaac nodded into Derek's neck as they settled in to wait for Lydia and Erica to emerge from his bedroom.
When Stiles had woken up this morning, she'd felt like everything around her was distant and faded. It felt like she was right back there, hiding what was happening from the pack and hoping they wouldn't realise. It was like everyone was on her periphery and she could hardly hear them, could hardly see them. The only things she felt as she looked at the unfamiliar view from the unfamiliar bed she was in was pain and fear, terror that they would come back for her here and finish what they did not achieve yesterday. It felt like their hands were still on her, their teeth still embedding themselves into her neck, their knives and the cold metal of their guns were still pressing into her ribs and her spine. It felt like they were still everywhere. Like they were still violating her.
Once all the people on her peripheral disappeared, Stiles knew that she had to get clean. Even if those monsters were going to come back for her, she had to get clean right now. Because she knew she was around the pack and that they would smell them on her. Knew that she would infect them with her touch and presence if she didn't get those monsters off her skin. The door had closed behind the last person to leave the room, and Stiles had climbed out of the bed she was in and stumbled towards the door. Putting all her intent behind it, she dragged her fingernails against the wood of the door and the flooring until the sigils were faintly apparent, enough to block her sounds and smells from the pack.
She had ambled across to the bathroom, pulling off the soft clothes that smelt vaguely familiar and throwing herself into the shower. She had turned on the hot water, ignoring the cold, and picked up a washcloth from the side of the shower. Harshly she had scrubbed at her skin under unbearably hot water, feeling nails scratch and skin split, until she could hardly feel it anymore. And still she had kept scrubbing. She couldn't get the feel, the smell, of them off her. Couldn't forget the way they had felt against her, tainted her. Stiles had continued to scrub and scrub and scratch until someone - faintly she recognised that it was Derek - grasped her hands and stopped her from doing any more damage to her skin. She could hardly feel the painful embrace of the towel, could only kind of register that it felt like she was begin carried, and then set down again, only for more scratchy, painful towels to be added to this new found method of torture to her skin. Derek had left sometime during the pain of the towels and the blessed cleansing sting of alcohol antiseptic. Somewhere in her subconscious Stiles knew that stinging antiseptic shouldn't be thought of as 'blessed' but it made the feel of their disgusting hands on her fade for a little while. She was becoming clearer with each passing, painful moment and felt herself being tugged into soft clothing and placed gently back into cotton sheets and covered in a warm blanket. Stiles hadn't even realised she'd been shaking until then.
Lydia and Erica had stayed with her a little while until Stiles was lucid enough to realise that someone was whining outside of the door. It sounded familiar and haunting and it was then that she realised everyone had seen that shower scene, including Isaac.
"Let Isaac in, please." Stiles had whispered to them hoarsely and both the other girls looked at each other in a strange sense of relief. Isaac had crawled into the bed beside her as soon as he entered the room, but he didn't reach out to touch her until she gave him a one sided smile. He shifted forwards, curled towards her, and buried himself gently against her neck.
"Shh, 'Zac, it's alright. I'm sorry for scaring you." Stiles whispered into Isaac's soft curls, pressing a gentle kiss to his head. She wanted to move away from him, terrified of spreading her taint to the most innocent person she knew, but Isaac needed this contact.
"No. I'm sorry. We're sorry. We should have protected you. M'sorry Stiles." He had whispered into her skin, she felt the damp of his tears falling into the dip of her collarbone.
"No. Isaac. I did it to protect you all. I did it to protect you. Don't apologise for it when you did nothing wrong." Stiles said it loudly enough so that the rest of her pack, most of which she could hear pacing outside the bedroom door, would hear. Isaac peeked up at her, eyes wide and brimming with tears. She wanted to pull him closer and hold him, but her sensitive skin and other injuries wouldn't allow it, and the fear still infecting her brain told her that having someone so close to her weak and vulnerable body would only result in more pain.
"M'still sorry." He whispered, letting some of his tears fall down his pale cheeks. Stiles reached up her hand and brushed them away with the pad of her thumb.
"I know you are." Was all she replied, and she did, she just didn't know why. It was like none of these wolves understood that she'd do it all again if it would keep them safe from here on out. That she would risk everything except her father to keep them out of harms way. But Stiles was getting tired, could feel it in the slowing of her movements and the strain on her muscles. Isaac must have realised too, because soon she had her head settled into his deceptively muscular chest, his arm gently draped across the relatively unharmed skin of her shoulders as her fingers wrapped around his other wrist.
It wasn't the same familiar thrum of Derek's heartbeat beneath her fingers, but knowing Isaac was safe was enough to let her drift into sleep once again.