Author's Notes: Stiles has frontotemporal dementia. It wasn't the nogitsune, he's really sick. After the fox is gone, he doesn't get better.

Summary: They're almost used to it now. The dread when Stiles goes missing. The worry now is almost worse than when that meant the nogitsune could have been out hurting people, because now Stiles could be out hurting himself.

With his mind deteriorating, Stiles wanders off sometimes. The pack try to take care of him.

Brotp of Scott and Stiles, Derek and Scott, and maybe a bit more than brotp for Derek and Stiles.

Wander Where You May, We'll Find You

At some point, they all began to dread their phones ringing. A reflexive tension that settled in their gut, across their shoulders. And, every now and then and far too often, their dread was rewarded.

"We can't find him."

The sleepwalking was something they could do little about. Other symptoms were easier to look out for and work around. (Count; remember what's real, Calm; it's okay. Everyone forgets their locker combination three times every day).But Stiles slept so infrequently and badly that they were all just relieved when he managed to drift off at all. Even if it did lead to some of his worst episodes. Stiles couldn't be watched all the time. It wasn't practical, especially in a town that was a magnet for the supernatural. Stiles bristled against being babysat anyway. So, inevitably, this had been known to happen.

Most of the time they were able to catch him pretty quickly, before he got too far. His dad would vault down the steps upon finding the empty room, already have his phone in hand to send the distress signal out to the others. And he'd draw up short to Stiles standing in the kitchen or living room, just staring straight ahead, fingers twitching oddly, mouth forming vague words with no sound. The Sheriff would calm his heart, put his phone down half-dialed, and lead his still sleeping son back to bed with soft words, trying not to touch him unless he had to. Stiles sometimes reacted badly to that.

Other times though, he would just be gone and the pack would be assembled to search. This was one of those times. Most went in pairs. Someone was always with each of the twins. Scott would never trust them fully, especially with his best friend who operated between completely defenseless and panicked fury when he was like this.

Scott and Derek were searching the preserve this time. Scott hoped he wasn't out here though, remembering how torn up his bare feet had been last time.

"Left."

Scott shook off his daze at Derek's words.

"What?"

"He's to the east. Turn left." He headed off that way and Scott scrambled to catch up, scenting the air, but catching nothing.

"How do you know?"

Derek took on a dodgy look, but moved his phone so Scott could see it. There was a green background with a small red blip on it. Stiles. Scott furrowed his brown, taking out his own cell.

"But he left his phone, didn't he? I thought I saw his dad with it." Scott had tried and tried to convince Stiles to always always keep his phone on. In his pocket, by the door, give him something to track if he had to. Stiles had shrugged, said he wouldn't remember to pick it up anyway. 'I forget shoes, Scott. You think I'll remember a phone?' Scott knew Stiles was a little hurt by the suggestion they needed to keep tabs on him, but he didn't say anything because Stiles knew they really did. No one wanted to admit it though. The Sheriff had made a few cursory attempts to get Stiles to wear an ID bracelet or necklace, but hadn't been met with much enthusiasm either. He didn't push it. The Sheriff was so gentle with him nowadays...

"It's not his phone." Derek explained shortly. It looked like he was going to continue, but cut off with a curse. "He's moving again."

Derek took off and Scott ran after, his heartbeat spiking as they went deeper into the trees. Scott was winged by branches and brambles on the ground and just knew Stiles would be more cut up than last time.

He wasn't wrong.

He caught Stiles scent first, smelled the blood, then picked up the other's heartbeat. Derek had already put his phone away. Neither of them stopped running. They got to Stiles and Scott shot around in front of the stumbling teen, Derek stayed to his side. Don't touch him unless you had to.

"Stiles." Scott started with, backing up bit by bit when Stiles took a couple more steps. Scott made a heartbreaking sound when he saw how far away and glazed Stiles' eyes were. He was exhausted. "Stiles, you need to wake up. Stop. Stop."

He didn't touch him, but Stiles stopped shifting forward and just stood there, dazed. Scott nodded encouragingly.

"Yeah. Good. Okay, just need you to focus now, alright? Stiles?"

It took a bit. It always did like this. But it wasn't freezing outside, Stiles wasn't in any immediate danger (though Scott winced at the bloodied footprints behind them), so they could take this time. It was better than having to drag him awake and endure the panic attack that followed.

Finally, finally, Stiles mouthed Scott's name soundlessly. Scott's breath was shaky with relief.

"Yeah, it's me." He reached out slowly and when Stiles didn't move away, he wrapped his hand around the other boy's wrist. Stiles took a breath, looking around and struggling as his eyes began to focus. "You're in the preserve." He told him before he could ask. "And you're alright. We're going home."

Stiles' listlessly roving eyes finally turned to Derek and settled there a moment. Derek nodded at him and Stiles blinked, slowly turning back to Scott.

"Okay."

When they'd led him out (Scott wincing at Stiles walking on his cut feet, but not wanting to be carried when he didn't have to be), Derek opened the back door of the SUV. They helped him in and Scott crawled in behind him. Not a mile down the road, Stiles was collapsed back against Scott, deeply asleep. Scott listened to the background noise of Derek calling the Sheriff, Melissa, Isaac, telling them they'd found Stiles and to tell the others. They all had that same shared shaky with relief sigh. Scott listened, but he watched Stiles.

He ran his fingers through Stiles' hair repeatedly, stared and cataloged the pale face and purple bruised under eyes, the too sharp cheekbones. The ridges of Stiles' spine were digging into Scott's side and chest and the arm he had around Stiles rested too close to ribs, not enough between them and Stiles' skin.

They found him. He was right there in Scott's arms and it hurt. Stiles was slipping through the same fingers Scott was holding him with and it killed him. Scott hated this. Scott was grateful for this. Every second he got to hear Stiles' heart keep beating, he was furious with grief and devastatingly grateful.

"...How did you know?" Scott's voice only shakes a little. He coughs and it's fine. This isn't where he breaks. Not yet. Stiles needs him. "He was too far out. I couldn't even sense him." He was an alpha, a True one at that. He should have detected Stiles sooner than Derek had. The wolf glances at him in the rear view mirror.

"The GPS on my phone." At Scott's confused look, he says, "Look at his left wrist."

Frowning, Scott shifts carefully around to pull up Stiles' arm. He'd gotten a new watch a month or so ago-

"It's a tracker?" Scott's thrilled with finding Stiles mostly uninjured, but this will not go over well when he discovers he was tricked. "Did you give him the watch?" At Derek's nod, Scott groans. "He's going to kill you."

Derek sends him a look in the mirror, confused, then a bit insulted.

"I didn't trick him. He knew it was a tracker."

Scott's head snaps up.

"What? He told us he didn't want one." Derek shrugged. "How'd you get him to wear it?"

"I asked him to."

It's something that shouldn't make sense to Scott. That Stiles would agree with Derek and not them, but he's not shocked and he doesn't immediately know why.

Stiles caving when Derek had asked (with a pleading tone and slightly down turned face, looking like a dog that expected to be kicked and hurt, but still trying so hard.

When he'd said, 'please' and 'for me' and his hands hadn't been shaking, but seemed still somehow unstable as he'd held the case out to Stiles.

When Stiles had looked at it, then looked at him for a very long time and had reached out for the box just as Derek had been pulling it back.

When Stiles had taken it out and held it, staring at it like a death sentence even though they all told him no, no, no, they'd find a way.

When Stiles had sighed and held it up to Derek without looking at him.

When Derek had taken it and knelt down and so carefully fit it around Stiles' wrist, brushed his thumb over the jut of bone there and murmured 'Thank you'. Stiles had laid back on his his side, facing Derek, wrist still held tightly in the wolf's grasp.

When Stiles had bowed his body so his face was near Derek's but still didn't look at him, tamping down a surge of fear and grief.

When Derek had leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Stiles' and they stayed curled up that way for the rest of the night.) Stiles saying yes to, for, Derek. To Scott, somehow,

it feels right.