I have to give credit to my lovely beta Scarllett because she's catching all the booboos I make. This is the chapter you've all been waiting for (And some, dreading). Early post today cause I'll be hanging out with a friend later.

Stiles parked his jeep next to the black camaro at the Hale house, relieved to see it was finally there. He wasn't sure where Derek had been hiding it. Stiles had checked over several days and there was no sign of anyone. Stiles stepped out of his jeep and looked up at the old decrepit ruins. He'd taken the ginseng root as directed from eHow(.com) and he ignored the bitter taste of the slices. He was indeed feeling like 60 percent better, which was a big difference from when he had the worst case of flu in his life. He was still exhausted in the morning, but after a dose of the root, it pretty much went away. He had decided that very night to just go through and ask Derek if he wanted to do something outside of his room. Like a movie, or grab some lunch. He would ask Derek while he was in his bedroom, but he always got distracted by a hand, or a tongue before he could ask. So he decided to talk to Derek where it wasn't so sexually charged. Not that Stiles minded it being sexually charged, but he... he embarrassed himself by wanting more. And he wanted more with Derek Hale. How messed up was that?

Stiles walked up to the house and the creaking porch gave him away for sure, if not the fact that his jeep had already alerted them of his presence. He wondered briefly if knocking was even plausible at this point because 1. Derek never did and 2. this was technically public property for about 5 years now. Stiles just pushed the door open and there was Derek, looking at him from the doorway to one of the rooms. His brows were drawn together and he looked tense; more tense than he'd seen Derek for a while.

"What?" Derek demanded and Stiles felt that familiar healthy dose of fear settle in his stomach. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but this wasn't it.

"I um... wanted to talk to you." Stiles noted that Derek had found his leather jacket and his looser pants. Shame, Stiles had grown fond of those pants. Derek's eyes narrowed.

"Spit it out, I'm busy." Derek turned and went back into the room he'd been standing in and Stiles blinked. What was this? Dick Derek by day, Sexy Derek by night? Stiles followed, seeing Derek dumping out some things from a duffel bag. The room was in ruins but it sort of looked like it used to be the living room. Stiles decided to play it safe since Derek was in a foul mood. He stuck his hands in his hoodie pockets to keep them warm.

"I wanted to know what you're doing Friday, during day hours." Stiles tried to be casual as he leaned against the door frame and not feel his face heat up or his heart thumping in his chest. Derek froze and he slowly looked over his shoulders at Stiles, eyes strained and looking bewildered, which was a new look on the werewolf.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Derek asked slowly, finally taking a good look at Stiles.

"Well it kind of depends on if I'm going to ask you to go to dinner or to the movies." Stiles mentioned with as much boldness as possible. Derek turned to fully face him.

"That's not even remotely funny, Stiles." Derek told him firmly.

Stiles felt reasonably hurt by that, "It wasn't a joke, I mean if you don't want to go, you just have to say so."

"Why would you even ask me out of the blue like that?"

"Out of the blue?" Stiles frowned, standing straighter, "I don't think asking you out after 3 weeks of booty call is out of the blue." Stiles never thought he'd see Derek look so confused before, his eyebrows were drawn in tight, as if trying to figure out what lie Stiles was telling. Derek looked startled above all else. Derek frowned suddenly and then walked over to Stiles, looming over the teenager. Stiles leaned harder against the door frame, shrinking a few inches.

"Say it again. Slowly." Derek demanded.

"Dude, seriously?" Stiles asked and the unwavering stare made him sigh. He did look up and briefly ponder kissing Derek, but only briefly because he didn't like it when Derek gave him that look, "I don't think..." Stiles took a deep breath, slowing down so he wouldn't have to repeat it again, "Asking you out after having sex for 3 weeks is out of the blue." Derek not only looked confused now but concerned, "Did you hit your head or something today? Like really, really hard?" Stiles tentatively placed a hand on Derek's chest and there wasn't even a warning when Derek crushed his fingers in his own hand and Stiles gasped in pain.

"How are you doing that?" Derek's gaze turned angry.

"Doing what?!" Stiles yanked his hand back and he held his hand to his chest. A few fingers were numb. He pressed them to his mouth. It had been a while since Derek had physically assaulted him.

"How are you lying so well?" Derek glared at him and Stiles looked up at him. What the fuck?

"I'm not lying!" Derek backed up a little when he yelled, looking away as if trying to process something, "What the fuck? Are you just going to pretend nothing happened beyond my room? I just saw you last night! The sex was great if that's what you want to hea-" Derek's hand strategically shoved against Stiles mouth and the back of his head hit the door frame, leaving Stiles light headed. Derek leaned very close to him, nearly nose to nose and Stiles' head whirled with pain and confusion.

"I have NEVER, EVER touched you like that." Derek's teeth clicked with the anger and Stiles could only stare, feeling his throat go dry. Derek drew back, studying Stiles for a moment then he frowned more, if possible, and lean in, taking a deep breath. His steel green eyes slowly widening. What was Derek smelling? Maybe Derek was wondering the same thing, "How... how can you smell like me?" Stiles didn't even bother answering, his mouth covered and all. Stiles' eyes did however follow a movement that came down the stairs, which was Peter. Stiles squirmed in his spot and Derek looked around. Peter had an eyebrow raised at the both of them, his hair slicked back and in his long coat. They did look as though they had been out, which did seem odd at the moment.

"I do believe I've heard the oddest conversation of the year." Peter spoke cautiously, eyes focusing on Stiles.

"Something's not right." Derek's eyes flickered to Stiles and Stiles swallowed, feeling like acid had dripped into his belly. He felt nauseous.

"So I see." Peter went over to Stiles and sniffed briefly. Peter blinked and stood up fully, "Well, that is potent." Peter curled his hand under his own chin and Derek released Stiles' face, "But well..." He looked at Derek ponderously and Derek frowned at him, "You didn't, did you?"

"NO, You know I haven't," Derek bared his teeth and Peter shrugged.

"Just confirming. Smells just like you." Peter's eyes didn't meet his nephew's, instead, he looked at Stiles, "But, Stiles." Peter's hands lifted in a helpless manner, as though not knowing himself, "If you've been seeing Derek for the past 3 weeks, then it's not this Derek." He gestured wavingly to Derek, whose arms were folded. Stiles was slowly taking this in.

"W-what?" Stiles swallowed, holding his head, which throbbed, thank-you-very-much-Derek.

"You see, for the past 2 weeks we've been out looking for Boyd and Erica." Peter explained, ignoring Derek's disapproving gaze, "We just found them yesterday and transported them back to Beacon Hills. And we've been in hiding for more than the past month." Stiles' jaw dropped, eyes closed, taking in a sharp breath. He suddenly felt dizzy. This light headedness was not cause by the small concussion Derek had given him.

"But... But it's been Derek, I know Derek when I see him." Stiles said firmly, because he wasn't stupid. It was Derek. All sour attitude and all. All action and no talk. Roughness on all his edges. Okay, sure, he was actually actively avoiding Scott and being ultra stealthy, but the rest seemed normal, except for the sexing up Stiles part. But Stiles liked that part.

"And when was the last time you saw Derek?" Peter asked.

"Last night." Stiles decidedly did not say exactly what activity they had partaken in, but it was very good sex, "3am."

"We were still on the road to California at that time." Peter informed him slowly, seeming more concerned, tilting his head ever so slightly this way and that way, "Derek was driving." Stiles' mouth opened again, then shut and he held his head in his hands. He could feel his heart thudding against his ribs. The air felt thicker.

"But, the other night and last week..." Stiles felt nausea rising again and he held his stomach.

"We were in Nevada." Peter had a hand held out, as though Stiles looked like he was going to fall and Stiles looked up at Derek who was giving him this look that made him look like he was crazy. Shit.

"Then who's been in my bed?" Stiles asked and it all seemed to hit him like a brick wall. His body got chills and his breathing grew heavier. He could barely breathe. It wasn't Derek. It wasn't Derek? It wasn't Derek and he actually asked out the real Derek? This was so screwed up. So very very screwed up. Who the hell was it if it wasn't Derek? Oh shit, then he liked Derek and Derek still hated him. Fuck, did he even like Derek or the person who looked like Derek. Oh shit...

"Stiles." Peter was close to him, crouching and Stiles realized some time in his freak out he slid down the door frame. His body was trembling and his breaths were short. Peter had a hand rested on his shoulder. Stiles felt his heartbeat in his ears and throat, he thought insanely that it was going to explode from how hard it was beating, "Stiles, it's alright." Peter was speaking softly and calmly, and if Stiles didn't know any better, he actually thought Peter was trying to care. Stiles had the sudden urge to run, just run away, or run home. But what if the other Derek was there. What if this Derek wasn't real either. What was real anymore?

"Stiles." Peter was surprisingly gentle sounding and he urged Stiles up and Stiles found himself sitting on an old musty couch. Peter kept a hand on his shoulder and dragged a stool closer to sit down on across from Stiles. Stiles held his stomach, feeling his body wanting to just convulse and give out. Shit, "Everything's going to be alright."

"It's NOT alright." Stiles said fervently, breathing shallowly and now that he was sitting he could feel how bad he was shaking all over. He started to force himself to breath, like the doctor had taught him to when he'd first been to the hospital after his mom died, "I'm having a panic attack."

Stiles was avoiding looking at Derek, who hadn't moved during the whole thing, not exactly sure what to do in this sort of situation. Stiles didn't even want the sour-fucking-wolf near him right now. He was never going to live this down. He just wanted to die right now, right there. Stiles caught Peter making a sharp arm movement and he mouthed something at the alpha. Derek's feet hesitated but he left the room. Stiles wasn't sure if it helped that Derek left, because after all, he'd left him there with Peter. But Peter wasn't threatening at the moment. Peter moved, sitting beside the boy and started rubbing Stiles between his shoulder blades, making soothing noises.

"You're going to be alright, no one is going to hurt you or think any less of you." Peter was calm and more stable sounding than he probably was in reality. Stiles was tense and he wasn't sure anything would ever be right again. Some stranger had just wormed his way into Stiles' bed and took his virginity. His butt virginity, thank-you-very-much! Peter took one of Stiles' hands in his and Stiles jumped as the werewolf's thumb started making small circles over Stiles' knuckles, "It's alright, it'll all be figured out soon." Peter promised gently, "There is a logical explanation for this and we'll find it, alright? Everything is going to be okay." Stiles noted that Peter's hands were softer than Derek's; or fake-Derek's. Stiles watched the thumb roll back and forth across his pale hand. He still was getting over the influenza, he guessed.

Stiles noted that his breathing was getting easier and his heart wasn't trying to burst out through his ribs so much, "There's no rush, take your time," Peter's hand was warm on his back and Stiles knew those hands could kill men and hunters and he should be more scared of Peter, but it was actually helping. Stiles knew he hadn't said anything for a while either, but he didn't want to. How long had this been going on? Felt like hours. Felt like days. His heart was still thudding against his ribs. "You're going to be okay." Stiles made a breathy sound he wasn't even sure what it meant and his whole body ceased up, going tense once more. Peter's hand on his back stopped. Stiles just wished his dad was there, or his mom... "Stiles, everything is going to be alright." Peter's voice was softer and his hand left Stiles', wiping something wet across his cheek from under his eye, "Shh... Stiles."

"It was all a lie." Stiles sobbed suddenly and Peter's arm drew him in and Stiles didn't fight it, being pulled into the warmth. Stiles pressed his hands to his eyes, trying to hide the tears that flowed without his consent. Peter hushed him gently and cradled Stiles in his arms, speaking soothing lies until Stiles cried himself unconscious.