Stiles finally got into his bed at around three in the morning. His dad was gone, at the warehouse crime scene despite no longer being an active member of the force. He tried super hard not to think about why his dad was no longer on the force.
All he wanted to do was go to sleep. Turn off his brain, which was currently running at a hundred miles a second, shut his eyes, and go to sleep.
He didn’t want to think about Scott almost dying or the shit that would hit the fan when Allison learned about her mom’s involvement. He didn’t want to think about Jackson quite literally having no control over his own life anymore. He didn’t want to contemplate what creature was controlling him and what it had meant when it said they had killed him.
He didn’t want to think of what it meant for Derek to take off after Scott, to protect Scott, to hear his howl of pain. He didn’t want to lose his best friend to Derek’s pack.
What he really wanted more than anything was to be five again. To be able to run into his parent’s room and snuggle into his mother’s arms, knowing that everything was going to be okay, that he was safe, that he was loved.
Who could he run to now?
Derek stood outside his house for well over an hour. He could approach no more than ten feet from the structure without feeling a strange agony that prevented him from going further. He could smell the powder’s presence. He knew Stiles must have spread it around the property, preventing any supernatural creature from broaching his safe haven.
But Derek needed to enter. Much like Scott’s howl had told him so much earlier that evening he could feel the quiet anguish seeping from Stiles’ body. The alpha wolf within him longed to protect his pack, and Stiles was pack. The human part of him knew it was probably a bad idea. Knew Stiles would reject his presence.
But his wolf…
His wolf knew better. Stiles desperately needed a comforting hand. The chaos of his life was bearing down around him and he was running out of outlets to release it. He was running on empty but still pressing the pedal to the floor expecting to make it.
Derek cursed the vet for allowing Stiles access to the powder, no matter how helpful it was supposed to be. He cursed Stiles for thinking he was safe alone in his house with nothing but the whispers and the memories, the thoughts and the worries circling in his head.
For ghosts of things passed can still penetrate where Derek could not.
And Stiles was close to losing the fight.
He waited an hour, until he heard the Sheriff’s car pull into the drive before he departed.
When he was a safe distance away he looked back and gave one long, lonely howl at the almost full moon.
He hoped Stiles would hear it and understand it’s meaning.
He hoped he would understand.