Author's Notes: I wanted to get some things out before the new season starts, so these are just some unrelated, stand alone drabbles I've accumulated. Some humor, some angst, lots of hurt/comfort. Most will contain Pack-ness, Sterek, Pre-Sterek, and Bromance of Scott and Stiles.

Warning for this part: unstable Stiles hurting himself.

Summary: Derek and Scott are out looking for Stiles after the nogitsune reveals itself. They find him in his house, unsure if it's him or not. Derek almost wishes it wasn't.

02 (Old Games, New Tricks)

The whole pack and their parents are out looking for Stiles, for the thing wearing his face and body. Scott and Derek are the ones that catch his scent as they head toward the house. They rush in, not knowing if it's Stiles or the thing inside him that they'll find. Scott opens the door cautiously.

"Stiles?"

He doesn't move. 'Stiles moves. This thing doesn't move', Derek thinks frantically, on edge. The wolves smell blood. Stiles is cross legged on the ground, back turned to them.

Scott lets out a breath like he'd been punched in the gut. Derek hears the alpha halt a whine of pain before it escapes. Scott walks calmly, steadily forward. Derek reaches out to grab his arm.

"We don't know-"

"It's him." Scott sounds relieved and afraid and tired. It's enough of a confusion for Derek to let go and watch whatever is to unfold.

"Stiles." He's crouched down next to Stiles, waits a moment and his mouth twists unhappily. He looks to Derek quickly and nods toward the closet just outside the door. Confused, Derek opens it to find towels. Not even knowing if that's what he's looking for, he takes it anyway, instincts screaming at him louder than usual, reacting to the level of distress he feels in the alpha. He can't feel anything from Stiles.

Derek throws it to Scott. It must be what he wants because he catches it gratefully and keeps talking to the other boy. He still hasn't touched him though.

"Hey. Hey, man, it's me..." His voice is as soft as Derek has ever heard it. It's a tone of fear, watching something you love more than life slip through your fingers. "Here-" Scott reaches out cautiously and slowly grasps Stiles right hand. Slowly, he uncurls Stiles' fingers and Derek sees silver hit the carpet.

Heart rate spiking, Derek steps over enough that he can actually see Stiles' hands. Alarm, dread, panic, floods him. He holds as still as he can, calls to Scott. This thing could kill Scott. Silver and sharp and sliced open-

This thing was killing Stiles.

"Scott. It's not him. Get away from-"

Scott shoots him a look that could tear him apart if applied physically and he stops talking, but makes a distressed sound still because this is not Stiles.

"It's him." Scott tells Derek as he, just as slowly as before, takes Stiles' left wrist in his hand, wraps his forearm in the towel and presses as hard as he can without hurting more. Not that it would matter.

Scott knew Stiles didn't feel much when he was like this.

"You're you." He tells Stiles. "I've got you. Stiles? Hey." He rests Stiles' bundled arm across his own lap and uses his free hand to touch the side of Stiles face, urging him to look in Scott's direction. "Here. Hey, here, Stiles. It's okay."

In stunned silence through it all, Derek slowly realizes Scott knows what he's doing. It's practiced. They've done this before. Stiles has done this before.

It breaks something in Derek he didn't think could be broken anymore.

Stiles' eyes begin focusing a little more, mouth parting, maybe trying for words, but only managing sounds. It seems enough for Scott. He smiles.

"Hey. There you are." Stiles stares at him, but at least not through him. He starts turning his head to look around but Scott catches him again, diverts his attention. "Think you can stand up?"

Stiles blinks slowly, but the lost look in his eyes abates a little at Scott's encouraging smile and he nods.

"Kay. Come on." He loops Stiles injured arm over his shoulders, wrapping the other around his waist. Derek moves and ducks under his other arm, grabs his bloodied hand. Scott's eyes are wide in fury for the fraction of a second it takes for Stiles to listlessly acknowledge that Derek's in here with them. He only leans on them and a seemingly shocked Scott relaxes.

"Bed." He tells Derek. They manuver him carefully over. Stiles drifts off quickly. Not sleep, just pure exhaustion, but it's better than nothing.

Scott checks his arm and when the bleeding is slow enough, he takes the towel away to start cleaning and bandaging it. Derek feels as dazed as Stiles had looked. He needs to do something, but this is a scene that's played itself out at least once before and he doesn't know his part in it. He goes to where the boys had been kneeling, picks up the blade, throws towels over the blood pooled there, but he's still lost.

"...He's never reacted like that." Scott tells him, still bandaging Stiles up. "When he...I'm the only one he doesn't freak out over touching him. With his dad once...yeah, that was bad. That was a bad day."

"He's done this before." Not a question.

"Hasn't been this bad for awhile. It was already there when we met. The way kids would do it anyway, I guess." Scott shrugs, never taking his eyes off Stiles. "He was always cut up and bruised. Fell off of things just because he could. Then he'd get up and smile and be fine again. It um...It got really...when his mom died. But not for years like this." Scott's motions slow, his eyes linger on Stiles' pale face. "Never like this..."

He's scared.

He's so scared.

Derek is too.