Worse

When Stiles woke up, he didn't sprout fangs and leap off of the bed. He didn't scream or thrash. He didn't enter a fugue state and take a naked wander in the woods. The very first thing Stiles did when he opened his eyes, was, unsurprisingly, open his mouth.

"My Jeep – is – is she okay?"

And just like that, the Sheriff was laughing through his tears as he stroked his son's forehead. The father enjoyed the brief, tender moment with his son before standing and going to the door. He wasn't going to leave Stiles now, not after waiting for so long. He simply craned his neck into the hall and shouted for a nurse before hurrying back to the boy's side.

"How are you feeling, son?" The Sheriff returned his hand to Stiles' head.

"Itchy," the boy squirmed sleepily, "which means I'm in a hospital. Great. What happened?"

"What do you remember?" The Sheriff questioned slowly, watching his son for any signs of stress, or worse, lying.

"Driving," Stiles swallowed thickly, unsure of what story his friends had fed the police and doctors. "I think – I was driving?"

Several members of the medical staff came barreling into the room then, firing off questions and poking and prodding in more places than Stiles was comfortable with. Had he been a bit more lucid, he might have tried fighting all the hands on treatment, but his body felt utterly drained, as if he had played ten lacrosse games back to back, faced off with an evil Kanima Jackson twice, and held up Derek in the pool for several days instead of hours.

"Do you know what day it is?"

"Do you remember what -?"

"Are you in any pain?"

Stiles blinked up at the nurse as her words swam at him in the sea of questions he was convinced the doctor was trying to drown him with. He squinted, having to think about the answer. He wasn't sure if pain was the proper way to describe how he felt or if the exhaustion was simply masking any discomfort he should have been feeling.

"Stiles, can you tell me -"

"How many -"

"The doctor will be in shortly."

"Do you remember anything else?"

Stiles turned and looked up at his dad, and then back where the nurse had been. He could have sworn she had just asked him about his pain, but apparently time had passed because Stiles and his father were again alone. Stiles wasn't even certain what answers he had given to the nurses, or what they had spoken in return. His loss of time must not have been obvious to anyone else, though, as his dad attempted to pick up their conversation from where they had left off. Stiles pathetically shook his head, his skull feeling more like bowling ball than just bone and brain.

"Lydia said that you offered to take her home because she was upset and that the two of you ended up taking a drive and talking. She told me that you got dizzy and lost control. You went through the side of a building."

"Impressive."

"Stiles -"

"What? I didn't think the Jeep could take that kind of abuse. It did take that kind of abuse, right? It's okay?"

"Better than you," the Sheriff remarked with a lifted brow. "Stiles, what the hell were you thinking?"

"I'd love to clue you in on that, Daddy-O, but I barely remember the driving part, let alone the oh so manly passing out in front of the Lydia Martin and driving through a wall. Wait – Lydia is okay, right?"

Stiles swore internally. It should have been his first question. The morphine was making the cogs in his brain feel like they were soaked in honey. He wasn't supposed to remember what happened after the accident. He knew that Lydia was okay and safe. Of course, he also knew that Jackson had been a homicidal lizard who was killed by two werewolves and then came back from the dead as a werewolf.

"She's okay," his father nodded. "Not a scratch. I should let you know, Stiles. Jackson is alive."

Stiles pulled his best shocked face, which mainly consisted of letting his jaw drop and then just hang there for awhile. He didn't really have the energy for any of his usual dramatics.

"Alive? As in alive-alive?"

"Wasn't aware there were other kinds," the Sheriff smirked.

"H – how? Do – do they know – I mean, what did the doctors say?"

"You don't need to worry about that right now," the Sheriff patted his son's shoulder. "You're awake, that's all that matters. Just focus on you for the time being, okay?"

"Wait," Stiles' eyes narrowed, the exhale of his father's voice on the word 'awake' echoing in his mind. "How long was I 'not awake'?"

"Stiles -"

"Dad, just tell me. Please. What day is it?"

"Tuesday."

"Three days?"

"It's Tuesday morning. Just a little over two days. Relax."

"What the hell happened to me?"

Stiles was panicking now. He remembered clamoring out of the Jeep after it hit the wall – and Jackson. He remembered Jackson's werewolf roar, watching him and Lydia embrace. He remembered remarking to Scott about how his tears were for his beloved Jeep and not the scene playing out in front of them. And then – nothing. Upon first waking, he had assumed he had merely passed out due to exhaustion. Or maybe Gerard had actually become a werewolf and attacked them. What if -

"Stiles!"

The teenager whipped his head to the doorway and watched as Erica Reyes bounded toward the bed.

Stiles arched his forehead at the girl who had once knocked him unconscious but was now grinning at him like a giddy schoolgirl.

"Erica? Wha – why -?"

"You're awake," she took his hand, subtly squeezing it, hard. "Thank God."

Stiles locked eyes with the she-wolf and slowly calmed himself before he sent his body into a full blown panic attack in front of her and his dad. Whatever had happened, Erica would know.

"Dad? Can you give us a minute?"

The Sheriff hesitated before standing.

"The nurse said he's doing okay," his father approached the girl in a tender way that made Stiles squint suspiciously, "but the doctor is going to be in pretty soon."

"I won't be long," Erica offered the man a soft smile, "thank you."

Erica watched as the Sheriff stepped outside. As soon as the door swung shut, her hand leapt off of Stiles' as if his skin was coated in wolfsbane.

"What was that?" Stiles tried to sit up in the bed as he blinked at the young woman.

"Didn't you hear?" Erica drew a slender finger along the base of the bed playfully. "We're an item now. Or a couple. Whatever people call it." She waved a hand breezily.

"Wait, what? You and me?" Stiles swallowed dryly, wondering if there seriously were pieces of his memory missing.

"Relax, Batman," Erica laughed lightly. "Scott apparently doesn't have the brains to come up with a good enough lie on the spot, so I had to improvise. It's a long story. But it did come in handy when I had to explain why I was here all the time."

"You – you were? Why?"

"Well, not just me. Derek has all of us taking shifts at the hospital. He, Isaac and Boyd are here when it's not visiting hours or they have to stay outside. Don't want to cause suspicion having people who actually don't really like you sitting at your bedside, do we?"

"Gee, thanks."

"Scott's been here every day and your dad, well," her voice softened here, "he's hardly left the room. Me calling myself your girlfriend made me able to be in here too. You know, your dad's a pretty decent guy. Kept trying to get to know me, bought me lunch once too."

"What are you doing here?" Stiles skipped to the point, pausing only for a moment at the girl's quiet reflection. "And why does Derek have you all watching me? Since when does Derek care about me? Is something wrong?"

"Did the doctor tell you what happened?"

"Hasn't been in yet," Stiles shrugged. "Just nurses with questions. Lots of questions."

"Yeah, there was a pretty bad pile up on the highway," Erica moved toward the chair. "Think they're all a little busy. Scott's mom is downstairs. I was on my way in when I heard you wake up. I let her know so she'll probably let Scott know and he'll be here soon. I think I heard that your doctor is helping out down there too -"

"Erica," Stiles lifted a hand, noticing the dull ache when he did so with mild interest, "whatever it is, just tell me."

"I only came in here because I could hear your heartbeat when you started freaking out and I thought you were gonna say something to -"

"To what? Let the furry little werewolf secret out of the bag to my dad? Erica, that is the last thing I ever wanna do. And, for the record, I've been keeping that secret in that bag, tied up and then locked in a chest and buried in the deepest part of the ocean for a lot longer than any of you guys in Derek's new pack. Speaking of his pack, how about you tell me why you're all so suddenly concerned about me?"

"Stiles -"

"Erica, please. I just found out that I've pretty much been in a coma. What could be worse?"

She stared at Stiles with eyes that betrayed her. Despite the 'upgraded' supernatural abilities, wardrobe, hair, makeup and attitude, Erica was still, somewhere inside, that same human girl that had fearfully faced a rock climbing wall.

"A lot."

A/N: Hooray! Stiles is awake! And okay...but what happened to him...and what might happen to him now?