Derek stared Deaton down as he worked on Isaac's bullet-ridden body. He was laid out on the exam table a few feet away. Maybe inches, really. And Derek Hale couldn't move. He was frozen, his mind racing to catch up to the scene in front of him.

And then Isaac snapped at Stiles.

He had regained some of his supernatural strength through Melissa's quick thinking, according to what Scott had told him the moment he'd walked through the front door after the frantic call that had led Derek here. And it was that exact thing that forced him forward.

He used one arm to hold Isaac down while pushing Stiles against the nearest wall with his other arm across his chest.

"Stop, Derek!" Stiles complained. "He's my friend."

"You're too goddamn close, Stiles," Derek explained. "Back up. Now!"

Derek knew that Stiles had likely been through some shit in the last few hours, but he wasn't going to be able to focus on helping Deaton, when and if he needed it, if he was worried about the pack human getting bitten. And even though Stiles, and his usual stubborn self, likely had a well-reasoned argument all locked and loaded, he simply pursed his lips and did as he was told, likely for the first time in his whole life, his back hitting the wall.

The look on his face said he was ready to claw Derek's eyeballs right out, but all Derek could do was fight the urge to laugh. Now was not the time. No matter how hilariously adorable it was that Stiles Stilinski was trying to appear threatening to a werewolf.

"What the fuck happened?" Derek asked, turning back to Scott, who was on the other side of the table. "And why didn't you bring him here first?"

"We were headed... out," Scott began. "Obviously, we were ambushed or something. The minute we hit the front porch. Isaac was the first one outside and..."

He motioned toward the mostly listless Isaac between them, and Derek struggled to shake the memories of his own time on this table after his run-in with likely the same type of bullets. He understood the random bouts of energy followed by extreme fatigue as the wolfsbane coursed through your veins.

"We couldn't move him at first. He was bleeding way too much," Scott continued. "And then we figured out they were silver when he didn't heal right away. Then the black veins, you know? I tried Peter. And then you. But when you guys didn't answer, I called my mom and she brought Stiles' dad. I'm... I'm sorry, Derek."

"It's fine. I get it."

And he did. Derek wasn't lying. Even though he was basically an orphan, they each had one parent they could call, and Melissa had medical training. Not werewolf medical training, but it made sense they would think of her.

"I know you told us not to be out," Scott said, hanging his head. "But..."

"But we were going to a party in the middle of town," Stiles interrupted obstinately, his arms crossed over his chest in defiance. "We were going to be around a ton of fucking people. And we deserve to be normal-ass teenagers sometimes, Derek."

"Funnily enough, I don't share your opinion, Stiles," Derek contradicted. "Because Scott is not a normal-ass teenager. And you all fucking almost died, so maybe there's something to my rules, huh?"

Stiles rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "No one was shooting at me. I'm not a werewolf."

"Not the point."

"You're right. The point is that this is clearly the Argents," Stiles insisted. "So, go over there and end this, Derek."

"It's not the Argents," Derek argued. "They have a code. They don't go after younger wolves at all, and definitely not ones that have never lifted a finger against anyone."

"Whatever," Stiles muttered. "Someone shot him."

"Yes, they did," Deaton confirmed. "A lot. And I need quiet, please."

Derek pulled his eyes from Stiles after another long second, turning his attention to Deaton again. "What else do you need?"

"Space," Deaton said. "And time."

Derek nodded once, unfolded his own arms, which he hadn't realized he'd crossed to match Stiles, and motioned for them to follow him back to the lobby. But they both stayed planted. And with Stiles, at least, Derek knew he could move him if he wanted to do it, but he also understood their reluctance to let Isaac out of their sight.

Derek didn't want to do it either.

After another minute, Scott met him and Stiles near the door. "Is this going to work?"

Derek looked to Deaton again, who offered him a cursory glance. No more than two seconds. But it spoke volumes. And what it said was that even though Isaac came into this building with all kinds of fight, he was more black coagulated blood than boy right now, and it would be a miracle if he made it.

A miracle Deaton seemed at least semi-confident he could pull off.

Derek had come in with one bullet, though. One singular bullet. And he had barely made it out alive. Granted, he didn't have Melissa to patch him up, doing what she could while they transported him here either, so maybe that would be the thing that made the difference.

He wanted it to make a difference.

Stiles needed it to make a difference.

Stiles' expression, as he tried again to force him back over the threshold and toward his father, nearly shredded Derek's insides to ribbons. Because that was saying plenty as well. He was afraid. He was fucking terrified he was about to lose someone else he loved. God, Derek knew that feeling and it was the worst. But watching it on someone else, especially Stiles—funny, lighthearted, sarcastic Stiles—was harder than Derek thought possible.

In the next instant, Derek decided he had to put everything to rest between him and Peter. Nothing else mattered. None of that shit had been true. He could see it now. Stiles was right. They couldn't be apart right now. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he saw he had probably played right into the rogue hunters' hands with the way he'd acted. Peter Hale had not killed his fucking sister and his nieces. Just the thought was insane.

And no matter what had gone on with him and Kate, the fact that Derek had believed it at all was ludicrous. And possibly unforgivable.

He pulled out his phone, dead set on finding his uncle to apologize right the fuck now, but when he called it went straight to voicemail. And this wasn't exactly the type of thing he could send through text.

Derek headed back to the lobby alone to pace in peace when Melissa stood up to greet him, as if he might have news on the boy they had brought here.

Oh.

Fuck.

Shit.

Two more humans knew that werewolves existed. And they were taking it surprisingly well. Or as well as to be expected. Neither of them was screaming, for one. They just appeared concerned for Isaac. It was sweet.

"It's, umm... we don't know anything yet," Derek admitted. "But it's pretty bad. Those bullets were, uh, silver. And they're probably coated in wolfsbane, if I had to guess."

Melissa nodded and sat back down as Noah did the same, putting his head in his hands. He groaned quietly, more to her than anyone else. "How am I supposed to keep these kids safe?"

She rubbed his back. "We'll figure it out, okay?"

Derek stepped back toward the desk, catching Stiles as he joined them. "How much do they know?" he whispered.

Stiles watched them for a second, sighing heavily. "Everything." His shoulders slumped next. "Sorry, Sourwolf."

"No, it's okay," he repeated. "I get it." He reached across the space between them, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "They need to know."

Then he gave him another pat as Stiles walked over to the pair and sat down next to his dad, Derek following shortly after to sit across from them. He knew it was better to wait for the freak-out and questions to come on their own instead of forcing the conversation. Because the freak-out was coming. No one learned about all that and remained calm.

But several minutes later, they were still silent. Well, mostly. Melissa began to cry and Noah pulled her into a hug.

She wanted to help. Derek could tell. But she couldn't right now. She was out of her element. She was a nurse, sure, and a damn good one, but she wasn't an emissary or even all that well-versed in the supernatural. Not yet, anyway. But if Derek knew her like he thought he did, it would only be a matter of time. Because Scott was involved. Melissa would pick Stiles' brain about all his accumulated knowledge, uncovering a hefty helping of her own, until she rivaled Deaton.

And that wasn't a bad thing.

Peter and Stiles were right. They needed all the help they could get. And trusting people wasn't the worst idea as long as they were the right people. And when you found those people, it turned out, you couldn't let them go.

A gentle 'tink, tink, tink' filled the air as they waited, the sound of Deaton removing shrapnel from Isaac. That and Stiles' erratic breathing.

Derek wanted to tell him to focus for a second, calm himself down, but he wasn't dumb enough to get into that argument anymore. It never led to anything but frustration for both of them.

Then Stiles' phone rang, reminding them all that a whole world existed outside of this space.

Derek turned to him, hoping it was Peter. It would hurt his feelings, but Peter was likely angry at him. Derek had shown him he didn't trust him when shit hit the fan. And in the worst way.

"Whoa, slow down. What, Jackson? I can't... I can't hear you, man. Where are you?"

Okay, not at all who Derek thought might interrupt their hellscape of a night, but one more weird thing didn't even really register anymore. Then again, normal hadn't really factored into their lives for a few months.

Then Stiles was running toward the front door, Derek catching his hand as he barreled past him. Stiles stopped, looking down at where they were connected.

"It's Lydia, Derek," he explained, tears filling his eyes quickly, threatening to spill over. "She's at the hospital. They found her bleeding out in the parking lot of her fucking gym. I..." He gulped loudly. "I have to go."

Derek dropped his hand, and then Scott appeared next to them, torn between staying for Isaac and going with Stiles. But Derek knew where he was needed, giving him a nod of approval. And Melissa stood up as well. She could offer her help there. Human help. Noah finally stood up also, giving her a sweet kiss.

Then he whispered for her to be safe and she cupped his cheek before racing out after Stiles and Scott, leaving Derek and Noah alone. Noah was staying. He was staying right next to Derek, just as he had the night he had delivered terrible, life-altering news.

And it hurt just the same too, Derek realized. Though the sting was more of a dull ache now since he could still hear the uneven beat of Isaac's heart on the other side of the wall.