"Stiles?"

The voice faded in the distance as if he was being carried away by some unknown force. The hands on the clock slowed as Stiles collapsed, his body hitting the floor with a loud thud against the solid concrete. The tiniest black dots appeared in his vision, taunting him as they danced around and tricked his mind. He couldn't even distinguish what was real and what wasn't in that moment. He tried to look around, but it was like his life was being watched through a fuzzy television screen. He tried to make sense of things, to respond to his name, but he just couldn't think. His muscles tensed, stiff as a board, and the fear had began to set in. Just the thought of Scott or Derek dying sent him over the edge.

"Stiles, you gotta breathe!"

He struggled to breathe, his hands scratching at his sweaty throat, desperate to get oxygen to his brain. He'd start to hyperventilate now, his chest jumping violently with every shallow gasp that failed to bring air into his body. He felt the need to escape, the false sense of security falling over his mind, but no matter how much he trembled and how much he fought, he was stuck. It was like someone locked him in a jail cell and threw away the key forever.

"Stiles!"

He gulped in the air greedily as it flooded his lungs, finally ending the horror. His chest heaved as the oxygen worked through his body and back to his brain, his muscles relaxing slightly. His panicked eyes skipped around the room, landing on Scott and Derek's concerned faces above him, as his hands began to shake slightly, a whimper escaping his lips.

"Stiles, can you hear me?" Derek reached down, resting a hand on his wrist, the plan to attack the alpha pack completely forgotten about.

He nodded, but said nothing more, not trusting his voice.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked, fear evident on his face. He was never good with his panic attacks, Stiles recalled, and he'd always get really scared and run for Mr. Stilinski.

He nodded again, swallowing the lump in his throat.

After a beat or two, Derek sat next to him on the floor and pulled him close to his chest, hugging his arms around the boy tightly, hushing him and humming almost silently, doing anything he thought would provide Stiles with comfort. His breathing evened out and his heart rate returned to normal as he listened to the song and felt the vibrations through Derek's chest, falling into a peaceful, settle sleep.

Derek scooped him up, Stiles' head on his chest and Derek's arm under his knee, and walked him over to the couch, Scott following close behind. He laid him down slowly, careful to not wake the sleeping boy, and pulled a fleece throw over his shoulders.

"I'm gonna..." Scott whispered quietly as he jerked his thumb in the direction of the door. He figured that Derek could take care of Stiles. "We can work on the plan later."

Derek nodded, muttering a goodbye, and Scott grabbed his bag and walked out the door, closing it silently behind him as Derek continued to hum the song his mother would sing to him when he was sick.

"Usted es mi sol, mi única luz del sol, usted me hace feliz, cuando los cielos son grises."

Okay, so I don't know any Spanish songs about love/hurt & comfort. I don't know any Spanish songs. Hell, I barely know Spanish.

(Song is 'You Are My Sunshine' - a song my mother used to sing to me)

Oh, and I read somewhere (can't remember where) that Tyler was from Old English, Irish, and Spanish descent (that's possibly wrong), so i just wanted to add a little of that in there.