10: Whole Again – Part 2

Waking up left him groggy, disoriented, unsure of where he was, who he was, who he was with. The bed he was on was comfortable, smelled like pack and home and clean sheets. His body felt whole, healed, only the many echoes of pain itching along his skin. There was no stench of old blood, of his own body torn apart, of flesh burning. Something warm was next to him on the mattress, with deep even breaths and a loud heartbeat. Cautiously he opened his eyes to look at everything.

The loft... He was at the loft. That was... was that okay? Was that normal? As he looked at the dirty stone walls, they shifted to red, red of blood, red of fire, faces showing their anguish with soundless screams as the entire wall moved and shifted. Not real, not real.

Slowly his wide eyes slid to the body on the bed, long limbs and mole-dotted pale skin. Pink puffy lips opened for soft snores to be breathed out, runes carved as crude tattoos. Stiles. But he was dead? Sitting up, the wolf hesitantly reached out to touch, to check how real it was but before his fingers could make contact, the flesh oozed away to reveal broken bones sticking out from the carcass on the bed. With a pained gasp of agony, Derek moved out of the bed as quickly as his legs would let him, half crawling, half stumbling to press into a corner.

Not real, not real. What was real? His hands, he had to check his hands! Holding them out, he noticed they were shaking as he counted his fingers. One, two, three, four, five. Real. Right? No, no, the trick doesn't work in Hell, because Hell was real, it wasn't some dream where he could count his fingers and wake himself up. There was no trick to know reality, nothing made sense anymore, it hadn't for a long time.

Stiles woke with a start. At first he didn't know what disturbed his deep sleep, but as his sleepy, disoriented eyes looked around while sitting up, everything made sense to him. The memories of last night's ritual flooded back into his mind. The successful opening and closing of the portal to Hell, sealing Derek's soul back into his body and the pain and agony that followed. How he had to half-drag the unconscious wolf upstairs (thanking the Universe for the invention of elevators) and tuck him in bed before he too fainted to an exhausted sleep, his over-strained body twitching and some muscles cramping in his sleep too.

His muscles and head felt heavy, an aftermath of the overuse of magic, but he didn't care. He tried to focus on the terrified feelings coming through the bonds from his mate. Looking into the corner, he saw him cowering there with pure terror on his face, looking at his trembling hands, counting fingers. A technique Stiles often used too when he was possessed by the Nogitsune to try determine if something was real or just a dream. So Derek was seeing things. What made it worse for him was that he was actually awake, thus counting fingers wasn't going to really help in his case.

"Derek?" he asked softly, quickly wiping sleep out of his eyes as he carefully scooted to the edge of the bed on Derek's side. He wasn't really sure how to approach his mate, but knew that he had to be careful because he didn't know what the Hale was seeing and certainly didn't want to trigger anything worse in him. "Derek, look at me, please. You're safe. You're on Earth, back at the loft. We put your soul back into you yesterday, that's why everything seems to be so messed up. Do you remember? Do you remember me?" he asked gently but with some authority in his voice too to draw Derek's attention to him.

His head whipped up startled, as if he hadn't heard Stiles approaching, staring at the human for a long time. Yes, yes, he remembered Stiles, of course he did but memories of what he was supposed to remember didn't make much sense. One part of him recalled the years of Stiles going to college and moving to San Francisco, and the other part remembered the last months they had been spending together. He didn't know what was true anymore so he hissed, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes. His head was hurting, attempting to deal with all these new memories and traumas.

"You're Stiles," Derek said without looking at the other. Even when he stopped pushing at his burning eyeballs, he kept his eyes averted. It was surreal to be here, Lucifer hadn't put him here before, not in all those years because the loft never held much connection. He had lost Boyd there, sure. But it hadn't been home, it hadn't been important. It smelled like them in here – him and Stiles – especially the bed.

As he looked down, he noticed the marks on himself, one on his arm, scarred over and one on his chest, which was still a wound. Runes, magic. It made sense, Stiles smelled like ozone, a distinct scent for magic and he had an ember glow around him. It's why his eyes hurt, leftover gift from Hell which would go away in a few weeks, his brain supplied because he had been in Hell before? It was all too much, everything was scrambled.

"Lucifer will find me, I shouldn't be here. You need to get me back..."

But as he said it, he frowned because Lucifer wasn't in charge anymore? So it was okay. Was it okay? Swallowing thickly, he fought for some kind of reality to fix on in his head as he stared at his feet, tilting his head while he wiggled his toes. He had toes again. "I have toes. I didn't have toes. They were cut off and taken so I couldn't attach them." Why were there toes again? Finally he lifted his head to look at the human in great confusion.

Even if Stiles didn't have the ability to some degree feel Derek, it would've been easy for him to see just how confused his mate was. With a sigh, he carefully took a few steps closer to the corner then somewhere halfway between Derek and the bed decided to sit down cross-legged on the hardwood floor. And boy, Derek felt so different. Not just the darkness and confusion and the tortured memories kept filtering through to Stiles, but he felt... more. Whole. Despite everything. His presence was stronger to him. Undoubtedly the result of his soul merging. It was also so strange for Stiles that his magic was around it in a different way than previously. It didn't have to keep the remaining half together, but it still lingered around the whole soul in a protecting manner. He could feel it.

The relief was easy to see on the younger man's face. At least Derek remembered him. And the more he talked, the clearer it got to Stiles that the memories of the two souls were jumbling and clashing together, generating that confusion in Derek. So he was going to have to help Derek through things, help him piece them together. He hoped as hell that he was going to be able to do so, because seeing Derek like that and hearing the things he said (cut off toes? really, Lucifer?!) was torture in itself for Stiles.

"If you remember me, Derek, then try to remember how Deaton had told us that once your soul will be whole, the parallel memories will be overwhelming until they settle after a while. Things will get clearer with time, Derek. I promise. I'm gonna help you. You are not in Hell anymore, you don't have to go back either. We've worked for months to get your soul back and we did it last night," he repeated patiently, long fingers moving along his own thigh restlessly, trying to find a way to get through to Derek. "I know it probably doesn't seem like that right now, but you'll be fine, eventually."

There was a shake of the head because he didn't remember Deaton saying any of that, or he did but he couldn't reach it right now. Cramming over three decades worth of trauma in like that had done a number on him and reality had already been confusing in Hell. Nothing had ever been as it had seemed, because reality could twist and turn and it had been so long. The stone wall against his back felt real though and he liked corners to press into, having something solid against his back to protect it. The bed was too open, too soft. Sheets a luxury he hadn't had in a long time... probably? Because the memory of clean sheets to roll into, the scent of fabric softener tickling his nose as the cotton slid along his skin seemed recent enough.

Stiles was sitting there so calmly, like this was okay and normal, like it was supposed to be like that. But each time he'd blink, the image would change and the human's face would peel back to expose skin and muscle, blood dripping everywhere, the nose gone, the mouth without lips. If he closed his eyes for a moment longer and opened them, then the image would be gone but it ruined any form of normalcy.

"I remember Hell, I don't... I can't..." To go from torture to this serenity was beyond what he was able to grasp. Like his body being whole and healthy. To have a mate because he did sense the mate bond between them and it felt part of him too much for it to be recent. "I don't have to go back?"

So it was finally over? Finally somebody came for him and got him away from Lucifer? No more breaking, no more cages and chains and pain, no more pet. It was such a relief to hear and he leaned his head back, warm tears stinging at his eyes and he didn't even try to stop them when they rolled down his cheeks. It was over.

Stiles watched him patiently and with some pain in his eyes that stayed a light brown this time. He so wanted to crawl over to him to hug Derek tight, to give him comfort with that and his presence, but he didn't dare. Not yet. Instead, he slightly shook his head.

"No, you don't have to go back. It's indeed over," he whispered, watching the silent tears of relief stain the beloved face. It was breaking Stiles' heart, but it was good. It meant that Derek was starting to believe that he wasn't in Hell anymore. So he gave the other man some time to let that sink in.

"Be patient with yourself, Derek. I know it's confusing and overwhelming. All the conflicting and terrible memories. If I could, I'd wipe them away for you, but unfortunately I can't and it would be also... wrong of me to do so. Even if you wanted it," he mused quietly and inched a little closer on the floor as he was talking. He couldn't help it.

"I can only imagine what you went through. But I've seen a few memories in my mind," he waved a restless hand towards his head. "This won't be easy for either of us, but I'm here to help you through this. If you have any questions... just ask them," he added. "I'm your mate and emissary, so you can trust me with anything."

It would be tempting to have the years of Hell gone, to not know anymore what had happened because he was no idiot, it was going to take a long time to be able to function normally and it was going to be a lifetime of nightmares. Years of finding triggers and avoiding PTSD from kicking in. Derek wasn't even sure if he was going to be able to function without being insane. If he was going to look at others and see only blood and bone and gore. He wasn't going to be safe to be around others, but Stiles felt safe, this felt okay.

What wasn't okay was the human mentioning he had seen memories, because it wasn't... Those memories weren't good for Stiles to experience. He didn't know how to stop that though. There was this persistent command in his head that he was supposed to keep the bond open between them. Poor Stiles, stuck with Lucifer's broken toy as a mate, emissary to an alpha of nothing.

"Where's Elizabeth buried? I want to see her." What was left of her anyways. Hale graves were mostly empty graves, except Laura's. "And I want to get clean." Wash all this blood off of him, except he wasn't sure if the blood was real or not, it faded in and out like Stiles' face. A warm bath though, how long had it been since...

A slippery wet body leaned against his own, smelling like the oil Stiles had put into the tub at Derek’s insistence for his aching muscles. The bed smelled like their sex but the bathroom was clean. Stiles laughed, pleased to be leaning against his mate as their breathing matched.

Not so long? Derek scratched at the back of his neck, confused.

The human's eyes widened from Derek's question. Oh god, he thought... "Beth is alive and well. My dad is babysitting her. You've been back from Hell with her and been living at my dad's place for nearly 6 months. You and I... we've been together for more than 3 months now. We've been raising her... our daughter together since then..." he scooted over this time, unable to stay away from Derek when he thought that Beth was dead. "She's a healthy and happy toddler now. She likes unicorns... we even have matching unicorn hoodies. And she loves candy and making us... okay... mostly me try to ungracefully slide off the slide at the playground," he smiled fondly from those memories, but also somewhat worried as he was watching Derek's reactions.

Not knowing about the flashing in and out blood visions of Derek, he finally touched the wolf's warm hand. (Not that he wouldn't do that even if it was drenched in blood for real.) Perhaps physical touch with his mate would help Derek remember at least some of what Stiles was talking about. "And Fenrir, the deaf puppy dog you've got for her for Christmas is keeping her safe too. He's already acting around her like a real guardian dog," he chuckled shortly as he laced their fingers together.

If it was possible, he wanted Derek to remember that his daughter was well and healthy even more than remembering him. He would've traded that in an instant, because that little girl was Derek's everything. And Stiles knew by then that after Derek accepting that he wasn't in Hell anymore, this was the most important thing for Derek to understand. That his daughter was safe and alive.

"She's his daddy Derek's girl. So much! And I'm sure she misses you very much already, but... I'm afraid, at the moment you are not in the condition to see her. Maybe later I could ask dad to send a few pictures of today's adventure from Beth's life. She calls him 'grandpa No' and my dad totally loves taking pictures and short videos of her to send them to us. I can show you a few from my phone if it might help you believe what I'm saying."

What?

Seriously, what?! She was alive? No, wait... he knew that, right? It all sounded like something he should have known. It sounded familiar, there were no lies being told either but that wasn't the point. At hearing all that, there was that nagging feeling that he should know all of this. He thought they were fantasies, not real. And now he wasn't sure if this was even real anymore. It sounded too perfect. Living with Stiles and Beth, having a home and a dog, going to playgrounds, celebrating Christmas. It was all he had ever wanted, what he had dreamed about even before he had held the tiny hopeless baby in his arms.

He was too much in shock to even jerk away surprised at the hand on his arm. Numbly he stared at the fingers laced together, the way they fit so perfectly like that. "I should know this! I should know she's alive, what she looks like..." He knew, though. He knew what she looked like: big green eyes, dark messy hair, chubby little arms and a big wide smile that was all Lydia's. There was a flash of her dancing with Stiles with loud giggles but it was ruined by how he had watched her die in Hell. Like... he remembered escaping by giving up part of his soul but he also remembered not escaping and watching her burn before his very eyes, smell her burned flesh, hear her screams and not her giggles.

"I want to see her... videos." Not in person, he wasn't ready for that. He'd react weirdly, he'd mess her up even more than he already had. "I thought... those memories were fantasies. You and Beth. I don't get to have that." He didn't think he had anybody. Not anymore.

"But you do," Stiles protested very softly. "Those aren't fantasies either. As I said, please, try to be patient with yourself. It's a lot to take in and a lot of real and false memories to sort through. But I can guarantee you that she is alive and well," he added while getting his phone with his slightly shaking free hand. He took a few steady breaths as he glimpsed down on the screen to unlock it.

He had to stay strong. He couldn't break down in front of Derek. He had to be his rock, his anchor. He had to close out that flash of a memory of their burning daughter. He had to chase away the echoing screams of the innocent child.

Swallowing hard, he finally found the videos and pictures in his smart phone's gallery and started one as he slid next to Derek, making sure that only their hands touched, no any other part of their bodies because he didn't want to overwhelm Derek with his presence and closeness. The poor man needed some space to breathe and start to come to terms with these 'new' information.

That video was actually taken by Stiles that day. He remembered it vividly. It was the three of them building a snowman in the backyard of the Stilinski home. Beth has been nagging them to do that the second there was enough snow for it. Derek was helping her gloved little hands tap on the belly of the snowman then the two of them put rocks as buttons, eyes and a smile on it. With a chuckle Stiles waved a carrot at Derek while filming and the other man took it with an eye-roll and a 'don't you dare make any inappropriate comments' look on his face. Beth was delighted and excited and happy, babbling about how the snowman (Ben) was her new friend and that he was going to protect the house from outside. Then once they were done, she reached out a gloved hand towards Stiles to get him move closer before demanding for her daddies to kiss (because for some reason she thought that kissing in front of a snowman was mandatory like with mistletoe). Stiles and Derek humored her with a peck on each other's lips (the picture shaking a bit from the awkward angle, but somehow Stiles managed to capture the kiss too. Then the video stopped when the three of them got into some snowball fight.

The rush of feeling horrified got way more intense now that he was closer to Stiles and it took him a moment to realize it was because of their bond. The other must have been picking up on his memories as clearly as they were his own, pretending like it wasn't bothering him when it clearly did. In turn it made Derek feel like nothing was private anymore. Every time he'd remember something bad, Stiles would be seeing it too and some things shouldn't have to be shared. Bonds shouldn't be so invasive and lacking of some personal comfort. It reminded him too much of the way Lucifer would always know everything as well, every fleeting thought picked up on like vultures pecking at a dying animal, circling for death. Obviously Stiles wasn't doing it on purpose but it still made Derek very weary and he would have created some distance if he hadn't already been in a corner.

Instead he focused on what the phone screen showed, an amateur homemade video of a little family playing in the snow. It was such a perfect little moment that he couldn't believe he had been part of it, even though he knew deep down it was real because he could remember. He remembered the way the snow smelled like old frozen rain, the way it would melt and bite at the heated werewolf cheeks, how it cracked under his feet as he walked on it. He remembered the way he blushed when Stiles had handed over the carrot with a cheeky grin. "It's for the nose, Derek, god. Perv," Stiles had exclaimed but his grin had been downright dirty. So yeah, he knew it had been real but it almost seemed like it couldn't be.

It was so far removed from Hell that looking at this was painful, like torture. It could all be gone again, or what if he would go crazy and that was going to be a past he'd never fully remember unless prompted to. To him Hell was the past or the now because it couldn't be fully over, he wasn't that lucky.

He clutched at the phone, pressed replay again so he could soak in the scene completely. She was beautiful, she seemed so happy despite everything. "That won't be me again, you know that. I won't be the same ever again." He wanted to be that person though, wanted to look so happy and wholesome. Ah poor Stiles, he got the shitty end of the stick.

Not knowing that the occasional memory transfers bothered Derek, Stiles took a few deep, steadying breaths as he was sitting there, staring at the screen of his phone, watching them move and laugh and talk in the video. When Derek hit replay, he did look up at the other man. The dark expression on the familiar and haunted-looking face was painful for Stiles to see. Then he slowly nodded.

"Yes, I know. We talked about it before I went down to prepare everything for the spell. I have accepted that and made peace with it as much as possible. After all, it's something we cannot change. It is natural that having your whole soul with all the horrible memories will... has already changed you. But we both have to believe that with time it'll get a bit easier for you. For both of us," he said on a soft tone, rubbing some soothing circles against Derek's hand with his thumb.

Stiles had promised Derek and himself that he won't leave Derek, no matter what. He loved the wolf and the wolf loved him back. They both said it out loud for each other before he sealed the soul back into Derek. His emotions haven't changed. He just hoped that Derek's won't be the things that will change in him. If he wasn't going to be able to love Stiles anymore... well... even the thought was too painful for the younger man to finish, so instead he cleared his throat and lightly squeezed Derek's hand.

"We should eat something. Are you going to be okay while I put together some sandwiches?" he asked. He didn't have too much of an appetite, but he knew they both had to eat to stay healthy. Last night took a lot out of them. In Stiles' case his magic, which manifested in some angry grumbling of his stomach. And in Derek's... well, it was obvious that the soul-merging and the memories have put a tremendous amount of stress on his body and mind.

The idea of having to eat made Derek’s stomach clench in protest, the last thing he wanted to do was eat right now. Hunger had been something he hadn't felt in a very long time and in Hell it hadn't made much sense but it did now. He hadn't been a corporeal being then, didn't require the kind of sustenance a body needs, it had been different. And this body felt full, too full to accept anything without it ending up in the toilet or a trash bin. Which would be a waste of resources.

"I'm not hungry," was all he offered. He was fine, though, here in the corner while the walls moved with blood and faces, while Stiles switched from being beautifully whole to an unrecognizable corpse. This corner couldn't move with them, it couldn't do anything as it provided him cover and shelter. "I can stay here."

The wolf hit the play button again to look at the video. It didn't change anything, it wasn't shifting to anything bad, it was something to cling to, to remember that it was something he had been part of and could be part of again if he tried really hard to get better. He had to for his new family, that little girl he had done so much for already because she was going to suffer if he didn't get back to who he was supposed to be. So would Stiles. It seemed something unattainable, he couldn't even leave this corner. How was he supposed to take care of a daughter and mate?

A weight settled in his stomach, feeling like a failure and a disappointment for being this weak, this broken. They'd be better off without him, happier, they'd forget and move on.

"Stop that," Stiles murmured, not wanting to raise his voice and startle Derek. "I can feel that thought. We won't be better or happier without you. I most certainly won't move on. You're my mate. Not to mention that if one of us dies, the other will probably die too," he said and let Derek's hand go to rub his own temples. The headache since he woke up was a persistent one. Even if Derek wasn't going to eat, Stiles will have to.

He also suspected that he was so in tune with Derek right now because of the soul-merging and the worry he felt for his mate. Or something else he couldn't know of and was in connection with their bonds.

"You'll be better. You'll be able to get better. It's all too much at first. I've told you before to be patient with yourself. Listen to me Derek, just this once. Please," he sighed then carefully got up, ignoring the weariness and coldness of his body. He had to eat before his blood sugar would drop too much.

"There are more videos and pictures, if you want to check them. There are also wards all over the loft and building. Nothing is supposed to be able to get in without my knowledge or permission," he said then quietly moved towards the kitchen area to put together those sandwiches. (A few extra ones for Derek too, in case he got to the point of eating.)

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