11: Can’t Go Back – Part 3

The last few days took a lot out both of them. Next to trying to keep Derek from hurting himself – because he was too weak from the wolfsbane in the potions to seriously hurt Stiles – the young mage had to deal with the insanity trying to bleed through the bonds and also the accumulating magic which couldn't be balanced with the weak state Derek was in. But as usual when it came to his mate, Stiles didn't care about the strain it was putting on his body. He only cared about holding it back enough not to freak Derek out and to tend to him.

He sent a couple of inquiring texts with some urging to Deaton, who responded briefly and promised to get back soon. The sooner, the better, Stiles thought as he was wiping the black bile from the unconscious Derek's mouth. The veins in Stiles' arms were glowing amber, just like his eyes. He couldn't make that stop anymore. Or the constant headache and the pains in his every muscle and joints, which kept him from any real sleep. He managed only to nap a few times in the last few days and mostly kept himself awake with overdosing on his Adderall and energy drinks his dad had dropped off along with fresh food.

The sheriff knew that things were bad. He only had to look at them, but he didn't pry too much after Stiles reassured him that help was on its way. Instead, he gave some updates about Beth and what was going on at the station and Beacon Hills in general. No supernatural threat for now at least. Besides them, of course. But his dad didn't need to know that. Yet.

After what felt like an eternity, Stiles went downstairs to bring the druid siblings up. He even let Deaton take a closer look at him in the elevator.

"You don't have much time. Will you be able to bear the ritual? You'll need all of your focus and a lot of power," he said, looking kinda worried. "You're burning up."

"Yeah, yeah... Actually, I think I'll be better once I can release some of the magic," he pulled back from the examining hand on his glowing pulse point. "Did you manage to gather and prepare everything?"

"It wasn't easy, but yes," Morrell talked for the first time while the elevator was moving upstairs with them. Stiles caught her weighing glance before her eyes and face closed off. It made his magic pulse as if being aware that it was being sized up. Stiles doubted that it was about attacking him, he had a sense that it was more of her looking into the potential in him. What would happen if he lost control and perhaps how could she benefit from that – or something twisted like that. He wouldn't be surprised. Or maybe it was just his own paranoia fueled by Derek's insanity.

"Good. He's in a pretty bad shape by now from the potions and sanity-wise too. We have to hurry as much as possible," Stiles sighed and leaned against the elevator wall casually, but it was more for support.

Deaton wasn't too sure about the success of the ritual seeing that one of the casters looked ready to keel over and couldn't remain standing without leaning against a wall. The werewolf in bad shape had been expected, he wasn't going to be much use to them which was a good thing seeing as they were going to poke around in his head. As long as the three of them poured everything they had into it, the Hale was only needed to be there to perform the ritual on.

"We've made most of what we need ready. Marin will get it all set up while I get the last of the ingredient." Not Stiles, because the human was going to need to psyche himself up to be fully into the moment.

As soon as they entered the loft, Marin took the bags to unpack all they needed while her brother made a beeline for Derek who was out cold and unresponsive, black bile dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. A large band aid covered the back of his neck and shoulders, smelling of antiseptic. The older druid checked the pulse, frowning. The potions had done their job, yes, but it had caused damage, something which would heal itself within days because the wolfsbane amount hadn't been lethal. The body kept trying to get rid of the toxins, which was a natural defense. The wolf had been scratching himself and looked as miserable as his mate at the moment.

Retrieving a knife, he took the wolf's hand to cut it open and gathered the blood in a bowl. It was the ingredient needed to make sure the spell was used on the right person. "What we need you to do Stiles, when we're ready, is to visualize a wall within the mind. You should be able to see the insanity, the darkness when linked. Marin and I will make certain the wall will let in memories or it won't hold for long or break him eventually if it crumbles." The words had been written down for Stiles to use, it was not so different from the balancing to connect the two, only the magic had to make the wall.

"We've made a countenance to the wolfsbane because Derek needs to be able to heal to handle that amount of magic," Marin informed Stiles, shoving a bottle towards the human.

Stiles was staring at the bleeding hand of his mate (which neither he nor his magic liked) and nodded along to Deaton's instructions. He closed his fingers around the bottle just in time to avoid it slipping through them. That's when he finally looked away from Derek and glimpsed at the blue liquid in the bottle.

He felt frozen to the spot. This was it. The moment of truth. It had to work. He had to believe with everything in him that it was going to work!

This is not the time to panic, he scolded himself and took a few deep breaths. Derek will be fine. They both will be fine. The wolf's wish about the snowy cabin flashed in front of the young druid's eyes. He could see the three of them playing in the snow. Beth drinking hot chocolate from her sippy cup while sitting on his lap, listening to the story he's reading for her while Derek is cooking in the kitchenette. Derek making love to him after their daughter fell asleep in the other room. Red, healthy eyes staring into his before they kiss...

He wanted that. For both of them. So he had to be strong a little while longer to make that possible.

I am mindful and in the moment, he closed his eyes, his glowing fingers tightening around the bottle while he was taking some deep breaths. I am mindful and in the moment.

"Okay... Let's do this..." he finally opened his eyes, the amber glowing stronger in them, just like in his veins. The magic was pulsing with his heartbeat, knowing that it was going to have a new purpose soon, which will get it closer to their wolf. It was strange, but Stiles could 'feel' the longing for Derek in his magic too. As if it was a living, conscious being. Which was still not true, but it reacted to many things. Like... it was clear to Stiles that his dislike for Morrell was echoed in it too.

"Give him the potion," Deaton instructed while the siblings were already using white chalk to draw up a magic circle for the spell. And to protect the outside world in case something went wrong. That tipped Stiles off that they were going to have to move Derek into the middle of it. But first things first, he did as he was instructed and helped the barely conscious wolf drink the blue liquid.

"It'll work fast, but won't wake him up," Marin said, her right hand moving fast on the hardwood floor. "Learn the words, Stiles," she added without looking up.

Just then Stiles noticed a folded paper on the bed and he quickly reached out to study it. The few words weren't complicated, but he knew it was only the key to open things up for the vast amount of magic they will have to use to create that wall.

Once he knew the words by heart, he nodded to Deaton, who wiped his hands off his trousers and walked back to help Stiles take Derek over into the circle. Marin only waited until then to drop the mountain ash circle around them for extra protection.

"Can I hold him while we do this?" Stiles looked at Deaton hopefully. He was very reluctant to let Derek go.

"There are no explicit positions required from the druids during the spell. We all just have to stay within the circle, so yes."

With a small relieved sigh, Stiles nodded and sat behind Derek so he could keep him in a more or less sitting position. Frankly, it was better for him too to sit by then because the magic was boiling up in his veins, impatient to be used.

The wolf didn't stir once, not even when moved from the bed to the floor, not even as the reversal potion cleared all of the wolfsbane in his body, which was quick and instead of throwing up more black bile, it seemingly vanished. One of the things that took so much time, ingredients rare, the potion even more so. It was not something druids had on hand for werewolves. And it wouldn't work with the more volatile and deadly strains of the plant.

If this ritual didn't work, Derek would never regain consciousness. They'd keep him under as he had requested, spell him to keep him from being caught in a nightmare world since even Alan and Marin realized it would be undeserving as a fate. Nothing had been prepared for that scenario though, since it would negatively influence the outcome if they would prepare for it to fail. Derek's life was on the line, and with that a small hybrid girl's life would never be the same, not to mention the spark would never be the same. The Hale had never been a competent alpha, but he had always done his best to protect the town and its people. Even the Nemeton had taken a liking to him and Deaton knew it was a life worth salvaging.

"Almost Stiles, I can sense the magic's eagerness, keep it in control," Alan warned, sensing the way the magic reacted to the proximity of the wolf. It was all Stiles' doing, maybe that's why it was so eager to flow to Derek. It was not like anything he had ever witnessed before. "Once the ritual is done and a success, we have to leave the circle, step over the ring. With the wolf's soul whole, I think the magic will grow as well."

Marin nodded. Even though she wanted to stay closer to feel its strength, there was much there already. "Now!"

The three started to chant, preparing themselves for what they knew was going to be a surge of power drain. They were prepared for it, willing to give all they could so Stiles could do the rest. He was the catalyst, the master of this all, the one building the wall.

The second the chanting started, it was as if Stiles stepped out of his body at the same time while he was very much inside of it. But the physical and metaphysical lines nearly immediately blurred. Deaton's warning was ringing in his ears, though, and he did his best to stay in control, not to let the magic consume him. Even if it felt like that – especially when the other two druid's force joined his, feeding it, growing it. His Spark was ignited by those forces and it melted the energies into one. He could feel the connection to the siblings. How he was feeding from them. With his burning amber eyes he could see the strings so clearly. In the back of his mind he also knew that only one strong thug on them would be enough to drain the druids completely.

But he wasn't there for that. He was there to help his mate. That thought seemed to have given the longed focus for the magic and it enveloped the weak wolf's body, flowing into it through Stiles and their wide-open bonds, which were brighter than ever. Still, Stiles made sure to hold the reigns in not to hurt Derek.

The air was getting scorching hot and thick inside the circle, but there was an invisible wind swirling slowly along the walls. The pressure dropped, making the druids' ears pop. Like the calm before the storm. The other two watched as Stiles closed his eyes, his lips moving around the words of the spell. The veins were pulsing with magic, glowing as if wanting to split his skin, set him on fire. The hands holding Derek were a bright solid amber color while the rune on Stiles' forearm was glowing and burning.

But he wasn't focused on that. No, Stiles was entering Derek through their bonds and the magic they all shared. Deaton was right. He could see it. The lingering darkness, the insanity pressing forward. He could see the burning landscape of Hell, the shadows of unspeakable creatures and terrors lurking, tearing into Derek. And he could see one human-shaped man with the most unsettling lopsided-smile, the cruel cold eyes cutting right into his core.

'Do you really think you can save him from me, little boy? He's my pet forever!'

The menacing chuckle that followed made Stiles choke on the word he was saying.

It’s not real. He can’t hurt us. It’s not real!

And with that thought his belief strengthened and the magic rushed forward, forming an amber-colored wall, flowing higher and higher like water, warding off most of the terrifying memories. He wanted to completely lock them up, but remembered how important it was to leave the door ajar... How funny life is, right? They come back to this... Stiles wanted to laugh hysterically.

“When is a door not a door?” Void cackled into his ear.

He knew the answer to that riddle all too well...

"When it's ajar..." Stiles mumbled.

‘That’s right, Stiles. Leave him open to ME, Stiles…’

"NO! I won't! You can't have him! Leave!"

"Stiles! Stiles, FOCUS!" Deaton's voice echoed through the darkness.

It’s not real! They can’t hurt us!

The second Stiles continued the chanting, the magic thickened inside the circle so much that it became difficult to breathe, but he went on. Kept building the wall, thicker and thicker until he contained all the insanity, all the darkness – except for a sliver of it. Small holes that would let the memories seep through in a much more manageable way.

You won’t win. I’ll have my chew-toy eventually.

It wasn't Lucifer, not really. But after all that time of being tortured by him, the memories had formed a very lifelike version of him, fighting what Stiles was doing. It wasn't Derek's doing, it wasn't him fighting the help offered. The broken mind, the insanity was attempting to go against it. In the end, Lucifer always won, and of course he wouldn't want to have it differently now.

It’s as real as you want it to be. I will always be lurking, Stiles, Void lisped harshly, claws digging into the walls to attempt to get at Derek now that it still had a chance. Talons dug into Derek's side, ripping at his flesh to tear him apart and for the first time he reacted by his body straining against Stiles' hold, a loud howl ripping through the loft.

"Keep going, Stiles, it's the final act, you're doing well," Deaton encouraged as he glanced at the blood seeping into the shirt, coloring it dark red. The fact that Derek was getting hurt from a mental attack showed how much Lucifer had gotten into his head, how deep the insanity had reached. It would heal, though, it was only the last desperate act of a long-term conditioning put in the werewolf's head. Almost like it was a real entity in there. And it was Stiles' sheer determination not to lose his mate which started to make this look like it was going to be a success.

I will be in your sleep. I will haunt you forever.

Derek was suspiciously absent during the fight on his mind. He was curled up in the darkness, hands over his ears, rocking himself. Unable to know what was real and what wasn't. Too fuzzy-headed to offer much to his mate who was doing all this hard work to keep their love alive.

Stiles knew that too. That the insanity was fighting him. He suddenly saw and felt it crystal clear. He smelled the blood, heard Derek's howl which shook him to the core too. Even before thinking about it, a portion of the magic rushed to the bleeding sides, healing the claw marks within seconds. The amber flood was all over them, making the air thick with the scent of ozone. Stiles was in control, but he didn't have to do much about it, just think of what he wanted to do, because the magic was eager to help, to heal, to protect...

It was nothing he had felt before. Yes, his Spark has been protective over Derek before, but it never 'stepped up' like this beforehand. It was growing, rumbling, flowing like a tidal wave, strong with its caster's intent to protect, to save. And it kept swelling more and more, as if it was seemingly endless.

"You have no power over us!!" Stiles roared just as loud as his mate did, his aura expanding to half the diameter of the magic circle. It was nearly burning the skin of the siblings, who had to step back towards the mountain ash to be able to breathe and bear the heat.

Thick sweat drops were running down on Stiles' face, soaking his clothes on both him and Derek while the magic was swirling around and inside them freely. His hands were holding Derek in place. Stronger than any human could do with an alpha straining against him.

As he pushed deeper, the bright amber light cut through the darkness and in his mind's eye Stiles could see his cowering mate. His whole arms were glowing, nearly on fire as he extended them to close Derek protectively into them, finally pushing the darkness and the shadows back.

"Look at me, Derek... I'm here. Come back to me..." his voice echoed through the bonds. "Come into my light. You'll be safe there."

"We should step outside right about now..." Deaton told his sister, of course, not hearing the last comments, but they both could feel the surging waves, the pressure and heat around the mates becoming nearly unbearable for outsiders.

"Fascinating..." Morrell's expression showed some real emotions after a very long time, but she let her brother pull her outside the circles.

It would always be Stiles who would find him. Stiles' hand reaching out to him to help him up when he was down. No matter if Derek was drowning, if he was paralyzed, knocked out by a darach, hunted by the FBI... Stiles had been there to get him through it, to be by his side when nobody else would have. Even after all this time, the reason why the human was his anchor stayed the same.

The one he trusted, relied on, had his back. Unconditional and forever.

His home when he had no home, his everything. The darkness wasn't as dark anymore, a flame shone the way so the wolf knew what he had to do. Not stay here, not remain down. Scrambling up, Derek felt the world tilt around him while his legs felt like lead but his focus was on the hand reached out to him, the voice he hated to hear and yet never could have enough of.

"Stiles," he breathed, fingers outstretched, reaching and reaching until... His hand was grabbed and hold on tight, arms wrapped around him to shield him from the light which was growing brighter and brighter to chase away the darkness, forcing it behind the wall.

Alan and Marin could barely see, the duo in the circle was surrounded by light, Stiles bent over his mate protectively to shield him from everything. The heat was too much, forcing them outside of the circle as they watched something they knew was special. Those two broken figures with their constant bickering and weird humor, those two belonged together. They belonged.

"You're safe..." Stiles murmured into Derek's ear not just in their minds, but in the circle too. He didn't need to chant anymore. He had stopped a while back. The magic knew what to do, getting amplified not just from the other two druids but Stiles' Spark itself.

He could feel not just Derek in his arms, but... everything. Deaton and Marin. The receding darkness (in both of them) and insanity. The bonds. The Nemeton. The lay lines and their energy...

And with that the accumulation finally stopped and tipped over. For a moment there was absolute stillness and tense silence, only the very building under their feet moaning and groaning for a few seconds, the circle around the mates sizzling up with electricity-like energy as it struggled to contain what was about to come.

Then the magic literally exploded out of Stiles, surrounding them in a massive column of a fiery whirlwind, smoldering ember-like flecks circling in the magic-caused wind around the pair as Stiles' head snapped towards the ceiling, mouth opening on a cry. But instead light came from his eyes and mouth. It was another surge in the magic, fed by the Nemeton as well as he became the perfect vessel, the perfect catalyst.

He could not only see the darkness dissolving and pulling back behind the walls, but himself dissolving in the fiery light too. It would be so easy to give into this massive amount of power. To be controlled by it. To become the Nemeton's and the land's emissary...

But he was already an emissary. And a mate. And those thoughts started pulling him back.

Mate. Anchor. Derek.

"Derek!" he whispered hoarsely. He could feel his heart working overtime, his body being overwhelmed, but just when the ringing in his ears and the lack of air in his burning lungs were starting to get too much, like a magnet, his forearm found the wolf's. His fingers clasped around Derek's as their runes lined up and without a single word uttered, the magic washed through them both differently than before to balance itself. This time without Stiles having to concentrate hard. It knew what to do as he sagged against Derek, but still held onto him for dear life.

For a moment, Deaton feared they were going to lose both of them, and not for the reasons they had anticipated on. This wasn't a failure to build a mental wall, this wasn't Derek going feral, in fact, it was more Stiles on the verge of going rabid. The surge of magic too intense to even keep the eyes open so they had to shield theirs, unable to fully look away from the spectacle happening before them. The older druid's eyes watered as he attempted to keep his sight upon the Stilinski who had turned into a beacon of light.

"He tapped into the Nemeton," Morrell whispered, awestruck at that immensity happening. It was bad, humans weren't meant to wield that much and it was starting to take over. It wanted to engulf and take Stiles since the Nemeton recognized the possibilities offered here, as it had done before. "It's too much."

Alan reached out to stop his sister when she wanted to step forward to aid Stiles. It was no longer their fight, this was something the young man had to do with Derek. The wolf's chances were very promising if this explosion wasn't going to take them. If Stiles would pick the path of the Nemeton, then it was one the Hale couldn't follow, he'd lose his life to give his mate the ascension the ancient tree begged for. Holding his breath, he saw when Stiles made his decision and the magic stopped being such an impending pressure.

Derek felt the magic flowing into his body in the familiar wave of balancing, much more than he had ever been given before, more than his body had to handle. Much of it went to the wall to keep it healthy while the rest swirled around as it familiarized itself with the wolf's body, stored there for safekeeping.

"Did it work? Are we alive?" Derek panted, not sure if he spoke out loud or if he attempted to communicate within their bond. His throat ached, so he assumed he had asked it. It felt like they had been rebuilt, his body was out of sorts and his head weighed like a ton, he couldn't even lift it. It was cradled, held tightly.

"You're alive, I don't know how but you're alive," Deaton answered as he got closer, Morrell cleaning up the circle so it wouldn't keep the wolf trapped within. "Stiles, you can end the balancing, you did it." The voice of the older man was gentle, he doubted either one of the couple was up to move, not for a while. The plan was to get the two in bed and ask Marin to get some supplies from the clinic so he could get Stiles an IV. It was time for healing now. Inside and out.

At first Stiles was reluctant to break the connection. It also took his mind a couple of seconds to understand what Deaton was saying. It was as if he was talking from the other side of a tunnel. Derek's voice was different. He could hear Derek crystal clear, feel his back rumble against his chest, the familiar voice resonating through him and the brightly glowing, thick bonds as if someone plunged on them. It was too much for his oversensitive being which was just soaked and nearly drowned in magic. Yet it was perfect, because it meant that Derek was alive and sane!

With his mind Stiles finally forced his fingers to relax, leaving quickly healing bruises on Derek's skin. He barely had to think of breaking the connection and his arm fell away from the other one. The rune was throbbing and the skin seemingly scorched around it from the amount of magic that had to be balanced, but he didn't care or mind. His shimmering body and mind still felt like floating somewhere in an in-between dimension as his physical body was panting hard, heart still beating too hard and fast for his own good. But his mind and being felt light – for now.

"You 'kay?" he slurred, turning his face towards Derek while he kept it on a broad shoulder. His poor heart skipped a few beats just from the beautiful sight of his mate. It looked as if Derek was glowing too. "Ya have a halo..." he chuckled and oh boy, he might be beyond drunk on the magic. But that didn't stop him from reaching up to touch the bearded face while he half-heard Deaton give instructions to his sister about what to get from the clinic.

They were alive – more or less. And Derek looked and felt saner than for what felt like an eternity. "It worked..." Stiles declared the quite obvious and had a silly lazy smile on his flushed face. His body was still burning up, like smoldering embers, veins lit up but less bright now. He could feel his magic slowly starting to retreat into his Spark.

"Hmm," Derek answered to the question of if he was okay. In this moment it was still to be determined how okay he really was. Everything felt off, his limbs tingled as if they had been asleep for too long, fingers numbs but he could move his toes.... it seemed like. Breathing went well, it didn't seem like there were visible wounds because he couldn't smell the familiar coppery twang of blood, not his nor Stiles'. What he did smell was older and clung to his shirt though there was no real pain creeping up from there so it must have healed, since he did remember the ghost of pain of claws ripping into him.

"You are a halo," Derek shot back because having a halo was silly and made him chuckle. It wasn't even supposed to be funny, it wasn't funny at all and yet it was hilarious to him so he was probably high on the overload of all that magic. But he didn't slur as much as Stiles did, who sounded downright drunk and completely exhausted. On instinct Derek closed his eyes when the feather light touch of hesitant fingers was felt on his face. Why even close his eyes when he couldn't see? Normally he did that to fully focus on the touch without the sights distracting him. Not that he could focus on much.

Stiles could practically feel Deaton's worried look on him while Marin took off, now able to move freely in and out of the building because Stiles previously tweaked his rune protection.

"Why is he staring at me like that?" he whispered to Derek, at the brink of losing consciousness, but he was fighting it to make sure his mate was okay for real.

A snort came to Stiles asking that and the snort didn't come from the werewolf this time, no it came from the vet himself. "Because you look like you're made out of marbled ember." That alone was enough reason to worry, there was still so much magic lingering, though Alan doubted the Hale could have taken more with the amount already shared. They were both glowing and completely out of it, making him wonder why he bothered answering Stiles. "I'm going to get you both into bed. You first, Stiles."

The Spark was sprawled on top of the werewolf, pupils blown, though it was hard to even locate pupils in the ember glowing sea while Derek's eyes were milky white, which was a curious thing to see. Almost unnatural because the druid was certain they still tracked some sort of movement even though they couldn't focus on one object, seeing through them or past them. Derek was getting used to the blindness remarkably fast. Usually those new to it or experiencing temporary blindness wouldn't attempt to track anything nor swivel their head to people. They'd look ahead and focus on sounds, working too hard on other senses. It was at least promising. Derek would learn to handle the disability for as long as needed because it would need a few weeks at least for the danger of hallucinations to pass.

Heaving a sigh, Deaton helped Stiles into the bed, returning to help Derek who of course protested. "I can do it myself," the wolf growled, onto to topple over the moment Alan released him.

"Yes, I can see that."

Calmly trying again, they took their time to get Derek in bed, the alpha walking slowly while leaning on Deaton heavily. The vet wasn't very comfortable leaving them alone in this state but he had a clinic to open in the morning. The older Stilinski was looking after the daughter and had a job as well, same with Melissa McCall. Their social circle was too small, especially for an alpha werewolf. He ended up texting Chris Argent, asking for help to babysit the couple until they were back on their feet.

"Oh I didn't imagine for my first threesome to be with Deaton!" Stiles exclaimed already from the bed, his mind clearly working slower with the comprehending of words said, hence the delay. "It sounds weird..." he giggled uncontrollably on that and rolled onto his back.

"The room is spinning. Why is it spinning?" he asked no one in particular and not really expecting an answer, because with his next sentence he answered himself. "Ah yes, the magic... Don't worry Deaton... It'll eventually pull back. It's already... Can feel it," he mumbled, lifting a hand with some difficulty and looked at the glowing veins in awe, twisting his hand in the air. It was at least not full on amber anymore. His skin looked though as if it was cracked, but it was only an illusion made by the amber veins. "I'm pretty," he concluded and dropped his hand back down on the bed when he felt the mattress dip next to him, which announced the arrival of his heavy buff werewolf.

"Ma wolf..." he purred happily and with some effort rolled back onto his side to move an arm around Derek, holding him close. The very much out of it Stiles nuzzled into the other man's neck, inhaling him deeply. It was a familiar mixture of Derek's natural musky scent, sweat, shower gel and the distinct smell of ozone, which was sticking to their skin heavily from all the magic they shared.

"You're safe..." Stiles repeated, eyes already half-closed. They did it. He knew that at least and that 'Hmm' was enough of an answer for him to finally relax, the magic pulling some more back into the Spark deep within. Feeding it, making it brighter and with that Stiles stronger. "Think 'm gonna faint now..." he announced and then did just that, his body going limp against Derek.

"I'm going to check his vitals," Deaton announced so Derek knew too what he was going to do. He took the wrist around Derek's stomach and turned it to be able to press his fingers against it, counting in his head in silence for a while. "His heart is still beating a bit too fast and he appears to have a light fever, but that might be just because of the magic..." he said to Derek, not sure if he was clear enough to comprehend what he was saying, but guessed the wolf would like to know his diagnosis. "Marin will bring some potions and other things over. I'll put an IV in his arm. The magic took its toll on his body, but he should stabilize and be okay soon enough. He needs rest, just like you."

Rest, that's all Derek had been doing. Sleeping but never resting much. Derek must have given a cranky look because Deaton laughed softly as if the wolf was hilarious. "I can't sleep. He needs somebody to look after him," Derek protested, getting even grumpier when the vet decided he needed a look over as well, only tolerating it because the man told him what he was doing before he did it.

"I'm staying here for a few hours. Chris Argent will take over then because you're in no position to look after anybody, Derek. You can't even lift your head."

The alpha wanted to protest by pointedly lifting his head but wasn't very successful in it though he swore it was like an inch of movement. Apparently all of the magic had wiped him out as much as it had done with the sleeping human next to him. He couldn't see if the magic was still visible but he felt the warmth radiating from Stiles. It was an unnatural kind of pulsing heat which let him know it hadn't receded yet. They had been lucky Stiles hadn't blown himself up with overtaxing as he had done. Derek hadn't been given all of the overload but it was a lot in him still, settling within slowly as if it had some trouble creating room. It meant that if there was this much magic again to be balanced out, he'd be more used to it and that was a good thing.

Deaton released his wrist, concluding the physical checkup. "How do you feel in your head? The insanity?" It was asked matter of fact, no hesitation or beating around the bush this time. Alan was good at that when it came to asking questions, but not so much when it came to giving answers. It was an invasive question to ask but the wolf was well-aware of how much the two siblings were helping them when they didn't have to.

"Less pressure, too soon to say much though." The insanity wasn't going to be gone, it was shielded from him, trickling in a bit at a time. It wasn't that all the memories were suppressed but he couldn't get to them completely either. Like they were there, and there were not. "I'll always be borderline insane from now on, right? Voices, hallucinations... memories of Hell?"

"You will at times experience uncertainty about what is real, yes. Your PTSD won't be magically cured so expect nightmares and triggers. I think we should speak weekly to determine ways for you to know what is real and what's not. All that time in Hell makes you susceptible to certain 'realms' hidden from you before, as you know. Not all beings will appreciate being seen. Much like Stiles, there is a door opened within you and they will exploit that. Being Lucifer's pet for so long will bring behavior with it, he must have heavily conditioned you."

Derek nodded at all that, he hadn't thought it would be so easy as putting a wall in his mind and all was well. "Lots of work to be done."

"Much," Deaton agreed. "Give it a month or so before letting Stiles heal your sight. It will take a lot out of him and you're still caught between Hell and here. As you know, it takes around two weeks for it to fade."

"Must protect him.... Must... protect the land..." Stiles' voice cut into the conversation just then, though he was deeply asleep.

Both men stared at him (well, Derek just turned his head towards his mate) for a few moments before Deaton hummed.

"The Nemeton's influence is strong over him at the moment. In order to battle the darkness and insanity, he had to tap into that connection too. It nearly overwhelmed him and took him away. You have to remember, Derek, that it can happen any time he reaches for power through that bond. Things are complicated even more because you both have a separate connection to the Nemeton and those connections also meet somewhere inside the bonds you share as mates and emissary," Deaton said on a serious tone as he was sitting on the edge of the bed. "You cannot let him give in to the Nemeton's pull. You have to pull him back to you. We've got lucky this time because he was too much focused on saving you. Next time you might not be that lucky unless you find it in yourself to hold your mate as he did to you today. It's important. Because it can cost your life and Stiles to go rabid, a servant of the Nemeton and the land. I suspect he was close to tapping into the lay lines too and even I don't know the consequences of that. But this already put a tremendous pressure on his physical form and I'm not keen on finding out what might happen if the lay lines' power ads to this too," he finished the perhaps longest monologue he had ever told to Derek, which signaled the importance of the topic.

The Nemeton's pull was strong, Derek knew that from experience and honestly, he couldn't even stop the tree from using Derek for its own nefarious reasons, let alone something as big as this. Was their love enough to stop Stiles from giving into all that power? To stop despite the knowledge that if he did, he'd protect the entire town and not just his mate? Stiles was a fighter, he'd do anything to keep the people he cared about safe, anything at all.

The last thing Derek cared about was his own life getting lost, but he did care about Stiles becoming property of the Nemeton. It would burn the human out, it would destroy him eventually. It would be a short life and most likely not much of a life at all. So he nodded to Deaton's words, a frown on his face. Jennifer had tapped into the lay lines, and it hadn't been anything good. With power came a darkness and Stiles still had that shadow of the Nogitsune within him, that darkness when he had sacrificed himself to the Nemeton. The tree was neutral and would go with whatever sway a druid would throw at it. So it could easily be influenced to become more than a beacon to the Supernatural.

"That's why Jennifer wanted the sacrifices and me… for the power of the lay lines."

"The Nemeton requires sacrifices to power itself, and with all the blood spilled on it due to Julia and Parrish, it had only gotten more powerful. Your sacrifice saved it from dying. Stiles' empowered it even more. Julia wanted to be the catalyst that Stiles already is. You're the chemical reaction to set it off, it started with you."

The wolf sighed at that, it always started with him. He was always stuck in-between and was the reason why people got hurt or killed around him. He wasn't going to let Stiles be the next one. "I won't let it happen." Big promise to make, but an honest one. Stiles was not going to turn into a darach, not on his watch.

"Good. Seeing Stiles and you succumb to that would be something I personally wouldn't like to see. My sister would disagree, but I have my reasons. I believe the two of you are destined to be special. You already are. With time you'll grow into the greatest protectors Beacon Hills has ever seen. If you keep each other on the right path." For once the druid shared his thoughts openly, because he felt like it had to be said. That his words would take root in the wolf's mind. Nothing happened without a reason.

Just then they heard the elevator starting to ascend, which signaled Morrell's return with the requested supplies.

"You'll be good for this town, Derek. Try to keep this in mind," he said before going to the bathroom to wash his hands and prepare for tending the mates as best as he could before Chris' arrival.

Special... Derek didn't want to be special. He didn't want to have power nor cared much for being the center of attention. So those words honestly didn't entice him at all, which showed the difference between the two older druids and him. Derek stayed here because Scott was at college and somebody had to protect the town with a beacon. He stayed here because at the time had nowhere else to go and now wouldn't go anywhere else anymore. He wanted a pack, a family life, some normalcy to his werewolf existence. To help others with nowhere to go so they weren't feeling as alone as he had felt. Derek had discovered that his own family, or what was left of it, wouldn't be much help. Peter cared about power, he wasn't one to be trusted and the older man was gone as much as he was here. Cora was still a stranger to him although they tried to patch it all up but there had never been much time and as much as Derek reached out to her, she never returned the favor. She had her own life now, he'd come running if she needed help but otherwise he accepted her choice to have that separate life. Derek wasn't part of it.

His family was his daughter Beth, his mate Stiles and Stiles' father Noah. Those were the ones who mattered, the ones he wanted to stay on the right path for. Not some promise from a druid about being special, that he was going to be the greatest protector of the town. Derek's path was fluid, he did what was needed, he would protect whoever was in danger and he didn't do it because of some higher purpose in life. He did it for his pack.

Just as he had went to Hell for his daughter, as he had given up half of his soul and the power that came with it to get her and himself out of Hell. It was the sole reason why he had accepted that half back even when he knew it wasn't a good thing anymore since it had been a toy to Lucifer himself. But without most of his soul, he'd lose his emotions, he'd become cold and hard, dangerous as a werewolf. His mate and his daughter needed him to be fully there so the soul was back and it was going to take a long time to get over the brokenness of all the torture. He had taken his own eyes also to protect Stiles.

It wasn't for power, it was for love.

Quietly he listened to Deaton set up an IV, tolerated yet another potion to be brought to his lips to drink from, even though he knew it was to make him sleep. Deaton had no idea, Derek concluded as he succumbed to the lulling darkness of sleep.

IN WAVES

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