In a minute or so the tires screeched on the asphalt as he hit the breaks half-blind from the returning pain. He wanted to puke and faint at the same time, his magic all over the place.

"Think... he's not breathing..." he managed to wheeze out to Jordan and Deaton who were already opening the back door while Stiles unceremoniously nearly fell flat on his face as he tried to get out of the Jeep.

"No pulse," Deaton confirmed just when another wave of the painful strain on the bonds burned through Stiles.

"Hold him... up! Quick!" Stiles grunted and the two men did, both holding a limp arm around their shoulders once Derek was out of the car. One hand holding onto the side of the Jeep, the other got covered in flames as Stiles took a step closer. "Come on, Derek! Stay with me!" Stiles groaned and pressed his burning hand over his mate's still heart, pushing a wave of magic inside in an attempt to restart it. "Derek? Derek!" he shouted as he repeated it, his legs starting to seriously shake and threatened to give out under him. "DEREK!"

There was no beautiful resurrection like it would happen in the movies. Derek didn't blink his eyes and inhale sharply to come back to life, nothing happened at all while the flaming hand pressed against his chest until Deaton pressed his fingers against his neck again.

"He's got a weak pulse, let's get him inside. Stiles, it's safer inside." The druid couldn't afford making sure the mourning young man followed, if they didn't get Derek stabilized, they were going to lose both before the day was fully over. The two carried Derek into the back, onto the metal table where many werewolves had been bleeding out all over. Deaton's main patients have always been werewolves and they didn't exactly get him any income.

Parrish lifted Derek onto the table as the vet walked over to the fridge to retrieve a blood bag. "Since Derek has the unfortunate habit of bleeding out, I made him donate his blood, seems I was right to do so."

Pumping a werewolf full of human blood wouldn't harm but it wouldn't exactly do much good either, it only bought time for healing to kick in. Getting werewolf blood in would jump start the healing since the problem here was the lack of blood.

"Veins have collapsed," he frowned as he palpitated the skin to look for one. "I want to bet there's not a drop of blood left in him, and the magic is the only thing keeping the body going. It will give out again." Deaton warned as he looked at the human who had joined them, Parrish steering Stiles to a chair before he'd fall down. "I have enough bags to get enough blood in him for his healing to make the rest, it's a matter of getting it inside him quick enough."

Quick and expert hands cut into the werewolf's skin to get a shunt in, not bothering with the useless veins to hook up the blood to the shunt which was pressed into a major artery. He made sure the bag was set to be wide open, getting it inside the body fast was most important. Derek's body would deal with possible blood cloths and air bubbles on its own, it wasn't dangerous to him, only inconvenient.

"Help me undress him." Deaton ordered to the deputy who nodded, helping with shaking hands, betraying that it was Jordan this time and not the hellhound. Runied shoes and pants were pulled off quickly, dropping to the floor in a wet squelch. Even the socks were red-stained.

Deaton started running his hands over the grayish skin with a frown when the color didn't improve despite the blood reaching the heart by now.

"What are you looking for, doc? Stiles healed the wound."

"It's not a wound I'm looking for, Deputy."

Jordan hovered close by, frowning as he watched the vet look even in uncomfortable places such as the inside of the thighs, unsure if he should stop him before this would get awkward for all of them. Luckily Deaton uncovered what he was searching for, a small mark on the hip, hidden by the underwear, carved into the skin. A rune.

"As I thought. Derek isn't going to heal with this mark on him. Stiles... if you please. Mr. Parrish, can you try to get some blood bags from the hospital with Melissa? I don't have enough werewolf blood for this, the bag that's going in now won't work." A precious amount lost thanks to the rune. "Blood type doesn't matter since Derek doesn't have a human blood type. We just need to get as much blood in him as possible, this spell poisoned his system, we have to flush it out."

"I'll be back as fast as possible," Parrish nodded and was already on his way out, phone pressed to his ear to call Melissa.

Stiles didn't even made any attempts to pull his magic back or subdue the pain that was still throbbing in him. He wiped at his wet face time after time, unable to stop the silent tears as he was just sitting there, his insides feeling like imploding. All he could do was watch and focus on his breathing. Derek came back the second time to him, but his life was balancing on a thin line.

Instead of the panic and despite the pain, he just felt... numb as he kept staring at his naked mate laid out on the examination table. Like in a morgue. A way too familiar picture of Derek Hale, to be honest. And if they survive this... he knew it wasn't going to be the last time either. People seemed to like impaling Derek - and that right there nearly made a hysterical laugh bubble up from Stiles, but it would've sounded so wrong.

He wasn't even surprised by the rune – it made sense now why Derek wasn't getting better.

Stiles shuffled over to the table, staring at the rune. There was a flicker of anger that attempted to break through the numbness, but he let it go and began focusing some of the still swirling magic. "I just break it?" he whispered hoarsely, his breathing still a bit irregular, just like his heartbeat.

"Yes. It'll stop holding back the healing that can be done with this blood bag. Hopefully it'll stabilize Derek long enough for Parrish to get back here with the rest of the blood.”

Stiles simply nodded. No extra questions. He just reached out with a trembling hand and placed it over the rune. The magic lit up his veins and then took the form of the by now familiar flames.

"Break and heal!" he said on a firm voice, intent and command thick in his voice.

The vet was watching curiously and then nodded pleased when the next moment there was a strange sizzling noise and a shift in the air around the grey-ish body. "Very good, Stiles."

The Spark simply nodded then watched as his fiery magic healed the skin. Running his fingers along the unblemished skin, he stopped his concentration and let the magic slink back a bit. A bitter sigh left his dry lips as he pulled a stool next to the table and took Derek's limp hand between both of his.

"This is why I wanted to get rid of the magic. I won't, though. I've promised that to myself and Derek. But it comes with a hefty price as we can see... The Nemeton is already stronger thanks to the fresh sacrifice. And someone will come back again," he said on a monotone voice, staring at Derek's sickly pale face.

"Being a supernatural comes with a price always, as does magic. You know this." Deaton's voice was kind as he filled a bucket of water and added some herbs to freshen up the air, starting on getting some of the blood cleaned away. It was mostly done for Stiles, so he didn't have to look at his mate so covered in red, though one had to wonder if it wasn't making it worse to uncover more pale flesh as he scrubbed the Hale's face clean. There were dark blue bruises under his eyes, and he looked more dead than alive at the moment. Deaton checked the wolf's temperature but he was freezing cold.

"Last time it took some days for the resurrected to appear alive. Let’s hope it'll be a little while longer this time. This was a very clever test, and one that shows they have heard about Derek's link to the Nemeton. Dead ones showing up alive will not be good. I don't think the Council will let him live, because necromancy is strictly forbidden." For good reasons but in this case it wasn't something done on purpose. Derek's blood powered the tree and in turn for the sacrifice, somebody was given back, a life for a life, not once had the werewolf done this on purpose and therefor shouldn't be judged for it. Alan had never reported it for that very reason.

The dark-skinned man didn't clean the hair, because that was such a mess only a shower would take care of it. Instead he cleaned the skin around the shunt so he could tape it in place.

"They used Derek's life to feed the Nemeton and to feed your Spark's chaos, seeing if you would be tempted to use magic not your own, turn into a darach to get your revenge. It was why he had to die. You passed." There were not going to be many tests, they had already done the worse they could do to this young man, and Alan regretted it came to extreme measures even though he had nothing to do with it. He still felt partly responsible.

"We have to make sure they don't know somebody climbed out of their grave or they will be coming for you both." The man got two blankets, draping one over Stiles and the other over Derek as he checked his vitals. They were no longer worsening.

"Ah good, the veins are recovering, I'll get some warm saline in his body. How does the bond feel?"

"Clever, huh?" Stiles scoffed, anger flickering in his still slightly glowing eyes, his lips curling into an unsettling half-smile. "Oh I wanted to get revenge. I could feel them around. They were watching us, alright. I was so very close to giving in to fuck them up, but..." he paused, lightly squeezing his mate's hand and adjusted the blanket around his own body "... Derek will always be more important to me. He is my mate, my other half. Without him I'm nothing..." he whispered, watching the now cleaner but just as pale face. Even now he was beautiful for Stiles.

And for a moment... he wondered what would've happened if Jordan didn't snap him out of it. Would have he finally given in to the pull? Would have he become a mass-murderer? Someone who deserves to be hunted down?

"I hate them with a passion and their stupid tests!" Stiles looked up into the vet's brown eyes, noticing the apologetic look. "They are cruel tests. We did nothing wrong. I only had one accident and it was in a secluded place in the woods. And it's not as if Derek chose to do necromancy. Not once! Those were either accidents or forced on him. Like today. And I hate them even more for doing that to my mate who had suffered more than enough for three lifetimes!" he said fast as fresh tears ran down on his face. He looked only a tiny bit better than Derek. He mirrored the dark circles and the paleness and somehow his face looked thinner, cheek bones sharper. Stiles was far from weak in any meaning, but now there was a kind of frailness to him, he looked nearly transparent.

He sighed a bit relieved though that Derek was getting a bit better. "The bonds are... still strained, ragged at the edges since they nearly snapped twice today. They are throbbing and hurting... they feel kinda... 'dried out'? Don't know if that makes any sense. But at least the sharp excruciating pain has withdrawn for now."

There were no words to make up for any of it, Deaton wasn't going to sully the tentative friendship with emptiness which had very little meaning. The tests were cruel for a reason, designed for optimal results but that didn't make it right, nor was he fully on board with any of it. Much like the alpha pack, the Council's way to test lacked any kind of communication and threw the unwilling participants into the deep end for no apparent reason.

"You're powerful, and unfortunately history has proven that powerful people are too easily corrupted when pushed too far. Like Julia Baccari."

The two looked on the brink of full collapse and there wasn't much Deaton could do against that. The weight loss, the injuries and stress, it was leaving behind a lot of evidence in the two young males. They were wasting away, and enough was enough. For a long time Alan had been angry with Derek for making him lose his alpha, for being stupid enough to fall for an Argent ploy like that. In one fell swoop, so many lives and potential lost. Derek may have had grown up physically but mentally he had a lot of growing to do when he had returned to Beacon Hills and Alan hadn't been welcoming. Over time though, he had seen time after time how Derek had sacrificed himself and given himself up for others. It had made Deaton see him differently. Too much damage had been done between them though. Still Deaton helped.

"He is still too close to death for the bonds to settle. He has died, it's all far too frail at the moment. Once he's stronger, some intimacy will help." The warm saline was flowing into the still body and it was best, as soon as the blood was inside Derek, that they were made comfortable. Sleep, food and healing was needed. "It will take some time for the blood transfusion to work." Once there was blood to give that was. "After that, he'll be fine. He's in healing sleep at the moment so he's not going to wake up."

"The funniest thing is that... there are moments when I can kinda understand her motives now. I never did before I was mated to Derek. And I will never approve of her methods, of course. But yeah... she used to be in love and had lost everything because of power. Then she sought out power to get her revenge. And I know how very tempting a Nemeton can be. So a part of me... that dark part... can see now why she gave in..." Stiles lifted his free hand to rub it over his forehead in a tired gesture.

"All that power... it's intoxicating, especially without an anchor. She had lost that too with Kali's betrayal. I can't lose Derek for this exact reason. I don't want to give in like her. I don't want to be consumed by revenge and anger and the darkness. I'm... yeah, I want to kill them all for hurting us this much, for their games, for nearly killing my mate who's still so close to death I can nearly see his lurking reaper and how dim his soul is at the moment. How the walls in his head has a few cracks now because of dying then coming back... How fragile our bonds are at the moment. And all of that... it's slowly killing me. I want to help, but I don't know how..." he said hoarsely, by then rubbing at his eyes before looking up at Deaton.

He'd never seen him so understanding and sympathetic, which was scary in itself.

"I'm terrified, Alan..." he whispered, probably calling Deaton on his first name for the first time in his life. "Of losing him. Of losing against the darkness if that happens. If it ever happens... I need you to promise me like Derek did that you're going to stop me before I can hurt any innocent lives." He knew he was asking for a lot after all the help they've been getting from the druid during the years, but Stiles had to have such safety plans. Obviously, if Derek died, he couldn't do it before Stiles following him, and his dad would never be able to kill him. Neither would Scott or Jordan... or probably anyone from the pack. Maybe Chris. Derek had a similar pact with the hunter in case he went feral.

The vet stared into Stiles' pleading amber eyes for the longest time. It made the younger druid start to think that he was going to refuse it. But in the end he simply nodded with a bitter sigh.

"Thank you," Stiles visibly relaxed somewhat – a clear sign that he needed to badly hear this.

"I hope it won't come to that, though."

"I hope so too..." he averted his eyes and took a few deep breaths, offering his arm. "Take some of my blood and give it to Derek if it might help him until Jordan gets back with the blood bags. Mine is human enough I guess, even if it's fused with magic. That might actually help him, no? It's part of him too..." he reasoned with a hopeful look.

"Stiles, you barely look better than Derek does right now. Taking your blood will do more harm than good," Deaton shook his head, he was determined to keep at least one half of the couple strong even though the werewolf could use the blood. The bag was rapidly emptying but the blood in the fridge was meant for animals and unlike popular opinions, werewolves were not closely related to dogs. It might work if Derek was in his wolf form but that wasn't going to help them now.

Time ticked away, both bags of fluids emptied so he replaced the saline one, as he checked Derek's vitals. He didn't say it but he was worried, Stiles wouldn't die right away if Derek did. He would certainly snap though, it's why he asked to be stopped, the younger man knew he'd go dark. And the more years passed, the longer one of the couple was able to live without the other. Which meant more time to do damage. The pulse under his fingers was slowing, the body getting colder.

"I guess we don't have time to wait longer, I will have to take some of yours. So if you could..."

"We're here!" Parrish shouted from the door as he came running into the backroom with Melissa in tow, the nurse holding a cooler filled with blood. "I'm sorry it took so long, we had to get Doctor Dunbar's signature. How is he doing?" Melissa didn't hide her worry, she looked visibly shaken to see Derek like that. Her hands gently leaned on Stiles' thin shoulders, because she was here for both of them.

"Not good. We need to get his temperature up. The warm saline isn't working as well as I hoped. Can you hook up the blood? I'll get some heated blankets and hot water bottles. Stiles, be ready in case his heart gives out."

There was a flurry of movements as they all rushed to make sure the still figure on the table wouldn't die on them again. Warm blankets piled up, hot water bottles placed all around him along with the wrap used for hypothermia Melissa made Parrish get from the first aid kit in the police car. Bags of blood were hanging, along with a bag of saline. It was all they could do. For a while they all stared, waiting for it to get worse, but it never did. Slowly Derek's color went from deathly grey to sickly pale and his heartbeat had gotten stronger in a steady beat.

Melissa had stayed with Stiles, holding the hand he wasn't using to cling to his mate. "Stiles, honey? He's out of the woods now, he'll be okay."

Stiles was just sitting there by Derek's head, refusing to let go of his hand while everything became a blur around him. He let the others do whatever was needed to keep his mate alive. The touch of Mrs. McCall's warm motherly hands lingered on Stiles' shoulders and then her hand in his was also a welcomed gesture, even if Stiles' eyes were fixed on Derek's face and the rise and fall of his chest under all the blankets and wrap. He strained his ears to listen to the faint beating of the heart and was grateful that his senses were somewhat enhanced by their mating, because he could tell after a while that they were right.

Still, those agonizingly long minutes until they got there were measured for Stiles by his mate's heartbeats. That's all he could hear while holding onto the cool hand under all the layers. It was scary in itself because it was always Derek who was warmer than Stiles. It felt so wrong that now it was in reverse!

The lines of worry were deeply etched into the Spark's pale face and he sighed a bit more relieved when Melissa's words finally made sense in his otherwise blank mind. In response he lightly squeezed her hand.

"Thank you. Thank you all. So much..." he pressed his burning eyes shut for a long moment and he only opened them when he felt and saw the oozing magic start to float and concentrate towards his arm half-way under the blankets, using his and Derek's connected hand to slowly seep into the pale skin, giving some warmth back to it.

I’m here, Derek. I’m with you.

"You can thank us by not scaring us like that again," she hugged him close even though Stiles barely reacted to everything else. Worriedly, she raked her hand through his hair as she looked over at Jordan and Deaton, deciding the two boys weren't going to be much help making decisions, Derek wasn't, he was too busy playing sleeping beauty. "I don't think metal tables are the best place for them to sleep. I'll take them to my house. Chris has been playing nurse to them often enough to know the drill by now." Not that they were living together but the older hunter was at her house more than at his own apartment so they might as well be.

The sleeping beauty in question wasn't aware of much, it was never going to be a memory. He wasn't even aware where he was, because he was too deeply sunken into unconsciousness to have some kind of an awareness. But Stiles managed to reach him even there. His bright soul was a dim light, the wall, his body and his soul had taken damage, all things that could be repaired, mostly. The cracks in the wall were there, they were too small to let anything through and were going to hold unless Derek planned to die a few more times and undo all that hard work. The dim light reacted to the soft words used through their bonds.

I’m so tired.

It was barely a whisper, a flicker of something, however it was more than the cold nothingness from before. The Hale attempted to move, to maybe tighten his hold on the hand holding his, but it was of no use. Too weak for now to get a bodily reaction. I’m here now too. Subconsciously he knew something bad had happened, his mate was feeling so worried, so scared and angry. A finger twitched. Derek was there again.

"Okay honey, up you go. Jordan's going to carry Derek and we're going to continue with the transfusion when you two are in a normal bed after a warm bath for the cold wolf." She leaned closer to cup a pale cheek, making Stiles look at her. "Can you walk?" She was not above giving Stiles something to make him sleep once they were settled in, because he looked ready to drop.

"Oh no, you're not going to object, I'm tired of these two doing it all alone because they think that's better and they're not going to spend the night here. So you are going to help me get them in the car."

That was said to Deaton who closed his mouth when he was about to speak and wisely nodded. "Of course."

It was no wonder neither of the other two men dared to object. Melissa McCall was a force to be reckoned with. Getting on her bad side was not a health insurance to anyone.

It kinda amused Stiles, but he wasn't really paying attention to that now because he was too busy letting fresh tears fall because he heard it. He heard Derek's soul answer him and there was a finger-twitch in his hand. Maybe just a nerve, but he wanted to believe it was Derek signaling him physically too what he felt from his soul. And it was... it warmed the coldness in Stiles a bit.

"I think I can walk," he finally answered Melissa's question, who nodded satisfied yet still worried. Stiles hated to see that familiar expression on her face. He had seen it countless of times during the years when he was practically growing up at the McCall house – his second home, really. And she was like a second mom for Stiles just as much as he was a second son to the nurse. And Stiles hated making her worried because of him again. He wanted that expression to vanish, to reassure her that all will be fine... that he will be fine, but he didn't have the strength yet. Not until Derek woke up and said something and Stiles knew he was going to be okay.

He finally let the big hand go and allowed Jordan to carry Derek again, Melissa and Deaton packing everything up they would need in the McCall house. Melissa stayed next to him in case he needed to lean on someone, but Stiles managed to follow the others on his own feet.

It didn't take long for them to persuade Stiles to leave the Jeep there and climb onto Melissa's backseat so he could hold the unconscious man’s head on his lap, trembling fingers raking through and caressing the bloody dark hair over and over again, his eyes never leaving the beloved face – which indeed looked a tiny bit better.

Derek was there with him too.

It was a musical of cars at this point: Stiles' Jeep at Deaton's, Jordan following in the patrol car again behind Melissa's and Derek's car was missing in action. It was par for the course, the cars usually suffered as much as the owners did over the years. Derek's jeep had been wrecked, the second Camaro had been wrecked as well by the ex and the first Camaro had many bullet holes repaired. It was a surprise the cars had lasted this long in the first place.

Derek was still an unmoving form, undergoing all the relocating without even noticing it. He would have hated all the fussing, for others to see him like this even though it was a familiar sight by now. Pretty much everybody in town had seen him out cold at least once – or naked. Never helping his reputation, though many knew what he was thanks to the massive werewolf hunt of Monroe and Gerard a few years back. A well-kept secret in town, because they were well aware what the werewolves have done to protect it all this time.

"I think once Derek's better, we should involve a few more of the staff at the hospital. One doctor and a nurse isn't enough to keep up with you guys," Melissa spoke up to break through the silence. "Then we can use machines to prolong a life without worrying about magical healing or werewolf DNA being discovered. Just think about it," ahe said as they arrived at the McCall house, Jordan already there to help Derek be moved to give him a quick hot bath while Melissa made the bed in Scott's old room so the two could rest there. Some of Scott's old clothes got spread out, IV pole for the blood bags ready to be used.

"Oh wait, I better get some of Chris' things. I forgot how tall you got." Freshly washed for the sensitive noses. "Once Derek is in bed, you should take a quick shower, Stiles, you're covered in blood, kiddo."

"Little help?" Jordan was there with a very naked Derek who was clean now, leaving behind red water in the tub. Melissa dried him off once he was on the bed and dressed the werewolf in warm clothes, eyeing him and then the urine bag she had also brought. How long was he out cold? No way of telling. She quickly assessed the bladder by pressing around it, which was empty. "Oh thank god. I was not looking forward to giving Derek Hale a catheter."

"With how much we've seen of him and touched him, I doubt he'd mind," Jordan offered, making Melissa laugh softly because that was very true. She connected the blood to the shunt, it was still there for easy access after all and tucked him under the covers. One patient done, one left.

"Stiles?"

Stiles was just standing there in a haze, watching the other two fuss around and handle bathing Derek. He felt frozen, detached from his own body and mind. Maybe it was because of the bonds or what he felt from Derek, or the shock was starting to come out now that they were out of immediate danger. Now that Derek was out of immediate danger of dying... He didn't know, but it was like watching a movie on the screen, not really part of it. That detachment and numbness felt strange. He wanted to help, but he couldn't will his legs or hands to move and he also didn't want to get blood everywhere.

He wanted to tell Melissa that he was going to think about the involving more doctors and staff thing, but aside from a nod, no words came from Stiles. Not even once Derek was clean and dressed and in bed, the blood flowing into his veins again. Stiles just kept staring at him, wanting to go over and hold his mate's hand again, to nuzzle to him, but he was covered in his blood. It soaked into his clothes and skin and it will take time to get it out from under his nails.

Derek’s blood, he thought. He was covered in Derek's blood.

He had nearly lost his mate. Again...

Panic gripped his insides again and he had to make some strangled noise, because the next moment Melissa was right in front of him, gently grabbing Stiles' wrists as he was staring at his bloody hands, the amber eyes welling up.

"Sweetie, hey... Stiles, look at me and breathe with me. In and out. In and out," she took deep breaths, waiting until he picked up that pace, drawing in shaky breaths. "He's going to be fine, Stiles. I promise. His vitals are strong and the healing kicked in. He is getting the blood he needs. You have to focus on yourself now," she said on her soothing motherly voice and the professional she was, she was already gently but firmly steering Stiles back into the bathroom.

The brunette man moved along without objections and let her peel the bloody and ruined clothes off. He didn't care that he was butt naked in the middle of the bathroom. She had seen him like that quite a few times while growing up.

Melissa's eyes caught on the tattoos on Stiles' chest and back – they were new to her since Stiles didn't really flaunt them. "Stiles, talk to me. Can you take a shower on your own?" she asked and he glimpsed at the by then empty tub, some red still lingering at the bottom. Snapping fingers in front of his face drew his wandering attention. Maybe the magic burned through his Aderrall faster than usual too.

"Yeah... yeah, I think so," he finally murmured hoarsely and climbed into the tub.

Melissa wasn't going anywhere, she kept a close eye on Stiles since she didn't trust him not to slip and fall or fall asleep in the water and drown himself. Or he'd sit there and not do anything, like now. It was the shock of everything that happened and she knew it was understandable so without needing prompting, she helped. She hadn't washed him like this since he was little and she gently washed away the blood as the gentle murmurs of Jordan talking to somebody in the background sounded. Probably Noah who had no doubt been worried sick, yet again. At this rate, the two were never going to take Beth back and that worried her. They all deserved some normalcy soon.

After fifteen minutes, Stiles was clean and the blood was running down the drain as Melissa dried Stiles' hair and helped him up to find clothes handed to her by Jordan.

"Can you help him dress? I'm going to get him something to drink."

By the time she returned with two tablets and a glass of juice, the young man was in bed next to Derek who was starting to look better than the one who hadn't bled out.

"Here, take these, they'll help you sleep because that's what you need right now." She put the pills in Stiles' hand and gave him the glass of juice. She had a feeling that Stiles would be staring at Derek non-stop otherwise, to make sure he was still breathing and alive. "I'm staying and I'll look over you both. It's okay, honey. Get some rest."

Stiles moved his hand automatically to accept the pills and glass of juice. Just like he moved around during and after the shower like that too. But at least he wasn't panicking anymore, even if his tired and burning eyes (now back to their normal whiskey-brown) were a bit too wide for Melissa's liking.

"Thank you... Both of you. I'm sorry for all the mess," he whispered hoarsely and swallowed the pills with some of the juice, but the glass was guided back to his mouth by Melissa, a signal to drink it all. And he did with measured sips.

"Don't worry about it," Jordan said on his soothing 'it's alright' cop voice, leaning against the door frame. "I updated your dad. He'll stop by tomorrow to put some of his worries to rest. He wanted to come now, but I persuaded him not to."

"Thanks, Jordan..." Stiles kinda repeated himself. "You're a good man," he added as Melissa took the empty glass from his hand and tucked him in like when he was sick as a kid and Noah had to work. He even got a warm hand stroking along his forehead and still damp but clean hair. Like his mom used to do. The past and the presence blurred together for a moment and he sighed, burning eyelids already getting heavy. They jerked open though when he saw a flash of Derek bleeding onto the Nemeton, pinned to it by that fucking sword.

The hand was back with the gentle caresses as Stiles nuzzled closer to Derek under the warm blanket.

"Rest, Stiles. You're both safe now..." she said and Jordan nodded. He had permission from the Sheriff himself to stick around too and keep an eye on the alpha pair of his pack and to guard them while they rested and healed.

"Are we really?" That was the last thing Stiles asked barely above a whisper before his exhausted body finally relaxed, the oozing magic covering them both while sleep dragged him down into the darkness.

Next part

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