18: If You Dare – Part 2

A few days have passed without any incident regarding the other alpha, but the mates didn't let that lull them into a feeling of safety. They stayed on guard, Derek's sentence about them knowing that they are healed coming back to Stiles' always restless mind time after time. His mate was probably right. This time his paranoia might have been more like his instincts alerting him that he was being watched. Because each time he ventured out of the relative safety of the building – mostly with Derek, who disliked the idea of Stiles running around alone when he was the real target here – Stiles did feel being watched. Still, he had to go on with his life to some extent.

But most of the time it was Derek who went out grocery shopping and running errands and dropping by to spend some time with Beth at the Stilinski house. Not that Stiles thought that he was really that much safer in the loft. Yes, he had replaced the protection wards with stronger ones that required some of his blood too because he knew blood magic was one of the strongest kind beside sex and elemental magic.

Still, he didn't feel completely safe. Maybe only in the greenhouse where the shattered glass was quickly replaced.

Occupying his mind with a lot of practice with his magic, helping Derek with the fire and training in hand-to-hand combat with his mate to be prepared as much as they could be were at least good ways to do something and help somewhat suppress that nagging bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

But that feeling... it kept growing stronger with each day and Stiles didn't like that at all.

It was late afternoon, the shadows stretching on the floor as the sun was hanging lower and lower on the horizon. Stiles was trying to simultaneously cook dinner and dig up more on the Blackwood pack and the Druid Council to have more information to use against the alpha and the Council (if they were truly involved). It still baffled Stiles why they would push them like this. Or was it Zepar going over the top or rouge on their asses?

Yeah, sure, he got it, as a new Spark, he probably had to be tested to see if he wasn't a threat to everyone and everything around him. Stiles wasn't stupid, he knew he was growing stronger with each day and with that Derek too. He often wondered when that would stop – if ever. He also remembered that Derek was tested similarly by the alpha pack too when he first became an alpha. He was powerful back then too because he was a Hale alpha. And damn, a Spark and a Hale alpha had to be like... huge in certain circles... But why not try to like... say hi and come up with less... drastic tests?

He was huffing and puffing about that as he checked on the lasagna he had made and deemed it finished. He switched off the oven and moved to the sink to quickly wash what he used when the wooden spoon from his hand unceremoniously dropped into the sink with a clatter and Stiles had to quickly grab the edge of the counter.

Air suddenly became thin for him, his breaths turned into panicked panting, eyes unfocused and all the color drained from his face as he broke out in cold sweat. That bad feeling in the pit of his churning stomach suddenly seemed to expand inside then exploded all over the place. As Stiles doubled over and slid to the floor with his back against the counter, trying to give enough oxygen to his body and tried to figure out what the fuck was going on, he realized that this wasn't an out of nowhere panic attack. When he had such attacks, they were usually triggered by something.

Then a sharp pain stabbed him right in his middle, making him press his hands against it as he moaned, eyes flickering to amber just when there was a strong thug on the bonds.

"Oh fuck... Derek!" he croaked and tried to get onto his feet.

Now he knew what it was. Derek was in trouble. Big trouble...

***

The groceries had been done quickly, Derek wasn't in the mood for them. It was going to be dinner time soon and that meant a lot of people were there to get their meals for the evening. Crowded supermarkets made him cranky because distance wasn't being kept and he couldn't ninja his way around like he usually would.

Something felt off, ever since he had gotten out of his car. It felt as if he was followed. That feeling didn't leave him, and when he was packing up everything into the paper bags, he felt like everybody was watching him in the rows at the registers. Nothing was out of place, nothing screamed at him that it was wrong but it felt wrong. Shaking his head, he chastised himself and thanked the bagboy for helping him. Arms loaded, the wolf put them all in the back of the car, a feeling of lethargy flowing over him. Suddenly he was so incredibly tired.

Blinking, Derek leaned against the car, putting the last bag in, and spotting a rune on the brown bag. Drawn onto it. What...? He never got a chance to take a closer look, whatever spell it was, it took a hold of him quickly, draining away energy, making him feel too out of it to even have emotions about it. As his knees buckled, somebody caught him before he managed to hit the hard pavement. After that, it became all too disjointed.

Stretched out on the backseat of the Camaro, a familiar scent filling it but his eyes weren’t able to focus. Even moving a finger took a lot of effort and he felt so… calm. His body fel a lot like when the kanima poison had numbed everything but it wasn’t all the same. Something to make him unable to warn Stiles.

Long brown hair framed a grinning face But he couldn’t make out the face, couldn’t connect the dots. Large hands were reaching for him. He should flee, he should be alarmed, he should be fighting. Instead he moaned in protest.

The ground swayed, moving. No, he was moving. Flung like a sack of potatoes over a broad shoulder. He was being carried. The bags… they must have been coated with something. He felt drugged.

Birds were singing loudly. Green flickered in and out of his sight in a distorted kaleidoscope of light. It smelled like the forest. They were somewhere in the woods. But he didn’t know where they were. Hooded figures, hushed whispers he didn’t understand.

Something hard underneath him when he was thrown on it. A large surface, familiar scents. But he couldn’t put it all together. What?

What was happening?

What was happening?! His shirt was ripped away, making Derek protest with a growl because nothing good ever came when his shirt was taken. There was chanting? It sounded like something Stiles would chant in his rituals but he was more focused on taking in his surroundings as the fog was clearing. Big and strong hands pushed him down, held him there and by the time his drugged brain had struggled through the haze enough to realize that being held down was also a bad thing and he should start to worry, it was too late. A large curved sword plunged inside, right below in the middle. It sliced, lancing through everything to embed into the surface he was lying on, pinning him there.

Warm blood spilled, running down in rivulets, staining his pants and he weakly tried to get to the sword, too slow due to being spelled. Hands grabbed his wrists and a deep low voice chuckled. Very quickly the air was thick with the scent of his blood as it was spreading around him in a thick pool of red, dripping over the edges of the wood. That chuckle, he knew who that was.

"Zepar…" Derek whispered, coughing as the taste of copper hit the back of his throat.

***

If their plan was to lure Stiles out of the building then it was working because there was no way he was going to stay on his ass when his mate's life was in danger! They were stupid to think these assholes wouldn't try to get to Stiles through Derek. Yes, Stiles seemed to be their main focus, but Derek was the perfect trigger and they should've seen this one coming.

While climbing into the Jeep and trying to put the keys into the ignition with a terribly shaking hand, he was beating himself up hard for letting Derek move around alone. He should've gone with him. Or at least ask for Parrish to go with him!

"FUCK!" Stiles hit the wheel once the engine came to life and he had to take a few deeper breaths, although that was still something he found difficult to do. He had to pull himself together both mentally and physically before venturing out into traffic. He wasn't really fit to drive, he knew that, but each second counted.

"THINK!" he reminded himself. Jordan! He should call Jordan... After all, he made them promise to ask for help if something happened and now Stiles might need all the help he can get in finding Derek.

Fumbling with his phone, with how badly his hand was still shaking, it took him a few attempts to unlock the screen and find the deputy's number.

"Stiles," he heard the usual soft and measured tone of their newest pack member.

"Not much time. I need your help. Something happened to Derek. I can... literally feel it in my guts. It's... bad. Really bad," Stiles wheezed through the phone and could nearly see Jordan's expression change from casual to professional.

"Where?"

"I don't..." Stiles started to say that he actually didn't know yet, but right then he cried out from another wave of pain that hit him hard and tugged at something else in him too. That darkness and other connection... "The Nemeton! He's at the Nemeton!" he groaned, leaning back in the seat as he heard the jingling of keys and hurried footsteps from the other end of the line.

"Yes, I could kinda feel that too. Leaving the station right now."

"See you there and thanks," Stiles hung up, tossing the phone on the passenger's seat and he hit the wheel once again before finally pulling out onto the street.

He knew it wasn't easy to find the Nemeton if it didn't want to be found, but Stiles could... always feel it in the back of his mind ever since that connection was established years ago and it only got stronger since his mating to Derek. Plus yes, he was positive he could track Derek down with the help of their bonds which were pulled tied, nearly as if threatening to snap and that... that would mean only one thing Stiles didn't want to think about right now when he tried not to break too many traffic rules in his hurry. He was already too worried about Derek. If he went there with his thoughts, he knew he'd probably lose it and that was something he couldn't afford. Not yet, at least.

It took him an agonizing ten minutes to get close enough with his Jeep. Jordan wasn't there yet, but Stiles didn't care. He was willing to walk into any trap in order to save his mate who was close to death. He could feel it and it made him want to cry but Stiles chose anger instead. The magic was furious and he didn't even attempt to hold it back so it was swirling around him like a huge cloud, moving with him as he exited the Jeep. His eyes were a bright amber as he fought off the panic and pain and started running among the trees.

Hang in there, Derek, he thought, stumbling only once or twice.

He felt the eyes on him as he ran towards the stump but saw no one. Not even around the Nemeton. But that didn't mean they weren't there. Someone was there, though...

Stiles' glowing eyes widened as he saw the familiar figure lying on his back in a huge pool of his own blood and a friggin' big sword sticking out from his stomach.

"NO!!!!!!! DEREK!" he screamed. The Spark saw red. The magic lurched forward faster than Stiles himself after he had stopped in shock earlier. Now without thinking he was back to running. He sensed the wards and spells and it pissed him off even more, the magical amber cloud doubling in size and turning into fire.

No! You can’t hold me back, he thought and with a wave of his hand, the magical fire shot forward. It broke and burned itself through the wards and the next moment Stiles was at the stump, fighting with his tears seeing the sickly pale, grayish face. There was half-dried blood in the corner of his barely breathing mate's mouth too.

Stepping into the blood and over the motionless body, the magical fire surrounded the Nemeton protectively and Stiles' shaking hands reached for the sword. "Don't you dare dying on me, Derek! Hear me?!" he shouted. Then he concentrated some of the magic into his hands to aid him and using all of his strength, he pulled the sword out of the werewolf.

Without a care it was tossed to the side and Stiles was already on his knees, pressing a flaming hand onto the bloody wound. "Seal it! Seal the tears everywhere!" he cried out desperately, putting all the healing intentions in his words.

Death had come for Derek many times before. She always had the same face, this pale beautiful face framed by long black hair, standing there serenely, waiting, watching. It was since a short while ago that he had learned that she wasn't Death, she was his reaper and she was around whenever he was close to death. Unfortunately for the both of them, that was more often than not. Sometimes he would be aware of her, sometimes he was too far gone to even see her besides a glimpse. It was never a good sign if he could see her clearly, and right now, he could see her so clearly that he could see himself mirrored in her deep eyes. Oh no.

"I'm not ready to go yet. Stiles... he'd die, I can't..."

She held out both hands. Of course, she was here for Stiles as well. They were too young, they were not ready, it was too soon. Beth, what about Beth? She had godparents, of course she did but that didn't mean she had to be raised by them. She deserved to have her two dads for a while longer!

"Please...." The begged for his reaper. They had been spending a lot of time together. His voice was barely above a whisper, and he knew he wasn't inside his body anymore, the bonds were straining, like a rubber band pulled way too tight, the edges fraying.

Hang in there, Derek.

Like a breeze on the wind, he heard that. Stiles was calling to him, screaming, the rawness tugging at him. Nearly seven months together wasn't enough time as a couple. Not enough time for anything, he wasn't even thirty yet. The dramatics of making a choice, of the whole shock and crying? They were so past that, Derek had been so close to dying too often to even blink at it anymore. It sucked each time though. This time though, the choice was made for him. Almost violently he was sucked back into his body, by his mate no less. Heaving a rough breath, the wolf choked and coughed as the pain slammed into him with full force. His stomach was pulsing with fire and heat. They were surrounded by fire but he knew now where he was: the Nemeton.

"Not again," the wolf protested roughly because he hadn't been kidding when he had told Stiles a while ago that resurrecting people came at a high price. Like him bleeding out on the tree stump. That’s why he didn't want others to know because the other two times it had nearly killed him. Feeding the tree with his blood so often, it was dangerous. Blood magic was not something to be toyed with and yet here he was. Again. Blinking, Derek tried to swallow his blood, but his throat was too dry so it bubbled out, black thick goo. His body was healing itself.

"Stiles..." Shit, he felt so weak, too much blood lost. Covering his mate's hand with his own, he heard Parrish calling out, running towards them and was not even stopped by the circle of flames. Not Jordan then, the hound was back to save the alpha's ass. Again.

The wounds were closed, though it was hard to see with all the blood covering him, all his blood outside of his body. The stump soaked it all up greedily.

Stiles was barely aware of Jordan calling out for them. He was kneeling in the blood – his mate's fuckin' blood! – on the stump, his hand still in flames, pressing against the wound which didn't exist anymore. He knew that. He felt it. Yet he couldn't take his hand away until he heard Derek's weak voice and his hand was touched by a bloody one.

Tears already flowing down on the too pale mole-dotted face, he took a shuddering breath and helped Derek into a half-sitting position so he could lean to the side a bit and puke out the remaining black goo. Which was good! It meant Derek was already healing. The bonds stopped getting tenser too, that crippling pain somewhat eased up in Stiles' guts.

Jordan was there, hovering over them with a tense expression, one hand ready in the air near Derek's back in case his help was needed, but he didn't dare to touch the mates without invitation. He could feel the distress and anger, the protectiveness in the Spark and knew enough not to trigger all that with trying to touch or take away Derek.

"Stiles... we should get going. He needs blood and we are not safe here," he said on his usual calming voice, but it sounded strained as his eyes searched their surroundings then looked back down at the mates.

The Spark nodded but couldn't move. He wiped most of the black goo off Derek's pale face, though there was so much blood it didn't really matter. "It's okay, my love. It'll be alright. You just stay with me..." he whispered through his tears and nodded to Parrish again, who only waited for that to steady the alpha's back and reached under his knees before lifting him up and started carrying him towards the police cruiser parked not far from there.

Stiles knew what the blood on the stump meant. Someone was going to come back from the dead again... He had no idea who, but it was bound to happen sooner or later and that just pissed him off more. Then he felt it. The strong pulse of power rushing through the clearing. It came from under him and knocked Stiles back onto his hands and knees in the blood, gasping for air.

Even the deputy looked back with worry, his eyes the bright yellow of the hellhound from that energy wave. No wonder, he was connected to the Nemeton too so he felt it clearly as well. How the magical tree's strength was intensifying from the new sacrifice. And having an unstable Spark in literally the center of it all was definitely not a good idea. He saw and felt how that energy started triggering Stiles' powers too, making his hair and bloody clothes move as if there was a whirlwind around the panting figure.

Oh yes, Stiles could feel it too... All that power beneath his palms. Pulsing, enticing him, feeding his anger, and nearly begging to be used, to be unleashed. It was so tempting! The ring of fire grew double in size, pulsing with the Nemeton, the flames getting brighter and faster, now burning a perfect circle into the ground around the tree stump.

It would've been so easy to give in...

Stiles didn't know when he moved but he found himself standing on top of the blood-soaked stump, his eyes and veins just as bright as the fire around them. Feeling so much power coursing trough him was… intoxicating!

~~~

"Should we strike, sir?"

"No. He'd kill us in an instant. We're here to observe today," Zepar briefly shook his head as they were standing in the shadows further in a circle around the clearing, hidden by wards. But he was positive that if they went closer, right now the Spark would see them despite the Leader's powerful spells. After all, they all watched the outraged Spark cut through them with very little effort. Yet the alpha didn't order the hooded figures to lower their bows and weapons just yet.

He wished the Leader could've seen this in person, though. They have been waiting for this moment for quite a while and everything depended on what the Spark was going to do next...

~~~

"HOW DARE YOU HURT MY MATE LIKE THAT?!" Stiles' voice boomed through the clearing. There was an echoing, magic-filled undertone to it. "I know you are in the shadows! I can feel you lurking! COWARDS! You're going to regret this so bad!" he shouted, trembling from anger and magic.

"Stiles... We don't have time for this! Derek..." Jordan shouted at the raging Spark and it seemed to work because the younger man's glowing eyes fell on him and the pale werewolf in his arms. "We have to get him help. Now!" the deputy pressed.

After a few moments Stiles finally nodded, curling his flaming hands into fists as he took a shuddering breath while concentrating. He wanted to stay. To tap into and harness all that power and kill all these motherfuckers. He wanted that so badly! But his mate needed him!

As the whirlwind-like power somewhat calmed down around him, he raised his voice again. "I'll kill you all! If you want war, you'll get it for this! Come and face me some time soon you assholes... if you dare!" he sneered then forced himself to move away from the source of that dark ancient and pulsing energy. It wasn't easy, but Derek was more important!

The fire circle died down as he hurried to join Jordan, his guards up, hands still flaming in case of an attack on their way to the cruiser and his Jeep.

"Put him on the Jeep's backseat. I'll wash the seats later," he instructed, knowing that explaining why a police cruiser's backseat was drenched in blood and no reports about how it got like that was not the best idea to keep their cover. "Follow me to Deaton's and call him we are on our way. Let's hurry!" he said while jogging next to Jordan, glimpsing at the still too grey and motionless love of his life in the deputy's arms.

They are going to pay for this...

Derek was mostly unaware of it all, missing the near scare they had with Stiles' temptation to give into the Nemeton's draw. It was an understandable want to give into, to have so much power right at the fingertips, enough to level the threat in one glance. But it would also level the forest and all the animals in it. It might kill a few innocent bystanders as well in the thirst for vengeance. The Nemeton wouldn't stop there, if Stiles was going to channel its power, they might have another Darach on their hands, worse than Jennifer had been.

The wolf was quiet in the arms of the hound, taking a shuddering breath and going limp. That's when the hellhound called out to Stiles that they didn't have time for this. There wasn't enough blood in his body to keep him going for long. The heartbeat was weak and he was barely breathing but he was alive and that was all that really mattered for now. Jordan carefully placed his precious cargo in the backseat, adjusting the form so he wouldn't roll off during the drive. Blood immediately stained the seats, it was starting to coagulate, leaving a sticky red liquid covering Derek and whatever he touched. Stiles and Parrish were covered in it as if they had been the ones bleeding out.

"I'll drive ahead with the sirens on, there's not much time." The man assessed the frantically raging Spark, doubting he was capable of driving but he hadn't been on the way here either. It was a risk they were going to have to take, arguing about it would cost precious time the alpha didn't have.

Closing the door, Parrish got to the patrol car, flipping on lights and sirens as he waited for bluetooth to connect with his phone. It was still light out, but it was dinner time so with some luck, there wouldn't be too many people out on the streets. The car sped off.

There was no stirring from the backseat, no grumpy bitching about terrible driving skills, only the stuttering rasping breaths as he fought to stay with Stiles. Derek was too stubborn to give up so easily, he hadn't survived Hell to die because of a stupid sword. He had a family to take care of and a score to settle with Lucifer himself. Thanks to Stiles' magic and Derek's sheer will, his body was still functioning when it should have given into the pull of death even before he was rescued from the Nemeton. Maybe that's what the Council had counted on, for Stiles to go above and beyond to save his mate, or they would have stepped in to prevent his death? Whatever the meaning of this test was, it was getting dangerous for Derek to be mated to Stiles, being the trigger to get the Spark to react.

A few rasping breaths later, the alpha exhaled loudly. And then... nothing.

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Stiles was trying to take deep shuddering breaths to calm down and not let the panic grip his chest harder than it already was. He had to concentrate on following Parrish through the streets. He patted himself in the shoulder for the brilliant idea to call him before he left for the Nemeton because having a police car leading the way did save them precious time.

His attention was divided between the driving and monitoring Derek through the rear-view mirror which he had adjusted to Derek's form the second he jumped behind the wheel. He didn't care about the blood on the seats or the wheel. All he cared about was the quiet sounds of the rattling breaths Derek was drawing into his lungs. And then... Stiles couldn't hear it anymore and his bloody hand nearly slipped on the wheel, vision starting to narrow as he was gasping for air, panic choking him.

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"Nononononono! Derek! DEREK! We're nearly there! Stay with me, goddammit!" he shouted, stepping more on the gas pedal, knowing that Parrish would pick up the pace in front of him.

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