4: Separation – part 2

Sleeping on Derek's side – okay, practically smothering him with his body in an attempt to be as close to him as possible – was something very new and already precious to Stiles. He didn't even get embarrassed when occasionally some drooling came into the picture. It just showed how exhausted he was and how comfy of a pillow the warm werewolf body was to him. For the rest of his days at Beacon Hills, he sneaked up each night to his old room to sleep like that, using the limited time they had before Stiles had to leave.

Stiles also had to admit that playing house with Derek and Beth was something he utterly enjoyed. Their trip to the zoo and going trick or treating were fun times and also something new. He started to feel like being part of the small family. They also needed those few days for the bond(s) to strengthen and more or less settle. Needless to say, his dad had zero surprise on his face when they had told him that they were together. Noah was the Sheriff for a reason and his "It was about high time" comment and expressing that he was happy for them in the end made Stiles get up and hug his dad for long. And chuckle when Noah looked over at Derek, warning him that he had wolfsbane-laced bullets. In case he hurt his son.

To avoid thinking about getting separated, the lovers went over the blue prints of the Hale building, spending hours with talking about ideas – and bickering about them – how to renovate the loft and the other floors for future pack members and guests. It was a good way to get even closer – and end up kissing and groping more than once. They didn't have many opportunities to make love since their mating, but when they did, it was nearly as earth-shattering like on that fateful morning.

But the day came too soon when Stiles had to say goodbye to his dad then Beth and Derek. It was hard to get in his jeep and leave Derek with the little upset girl on the curb. As he drove off, he looked back at them through the rear view mirror for as long as he could. He felt literal pain in his chest.

And it hasn't stopped ever since he was back to San Francisco. That pressure in his chest stayed and as he tried not to think too much about how alien his life back there felt now, it only got worst. The texts and phone calls weren't doing it – he was literally aching for Derek. His magic wasn't any better either. Stiles had noticed that he was starting to lose control over it. It was stronger and fiercer than ever. Growing and bubbling restlessly under his skin, making his fingers spark at odd times, light bulbs to flicker or pop. He had gone to his witch friend to ask for her help with the control and to learn a ritual that might help Derek with his missing soul.

Still, he was getting worse. He didn't want to scare Derek, but he was sure he could feel something through the phone and their alpha-emissary bond (Stiles still didn't know for sure about their mate bond). Stiles barely slept, had problems with concentrating on his work and keeping in control over his magic. As he lay alone in his bed, clutching at his stomach and curling on himself, he literally felt homesick. When Derek asked through text if he was alright, Stiles didn't lie and told him no. When he asked if he should visit during the weekend, he said 'yes, please'.

The promise of that visit kept him get up each day to go to work and start organizing the future changes in his life. To ignore the physical, mental and metaphysical pain he was in. He suffered in silence, though, and waited Derek's arrival to his apartment like the second coming of the Messiah or something. He couldn't get there fast enough in Stiles opinion.

Time with Stiles had flown by, they had known there were only days to spend together, and it had seemed like two weeks was way too long before they had gotten together. Until it wasn't enough at all and having Stiles leave was too soon. Suddenly his bed was empty at night, Elizabeth's entertainment was his sole task again and it was only her babbling he heard during the day. Despite living with another human and a hybrid, it felt lonely suddenly, achingly lonely.

Noah had taken one look at him the day after Stiles had left, had clasped his shoulder and nodded. "I never get used to him leaving either, he takes up a lot of space despite his scrawny built." Which was true, Stiles had a presence to him. He made people talk, he'd have music on or the TV, he asked questions and never got bored with anything he did, or he wouldn't be doing it. Derek had a Stiles-sized hole in his days. No more frantic groping and making out during nap time of the toddler.

It was funny, Derek's ex had said that the Hale wanted a white picket fence kind of life and he hadn't been ready for it, one of the many reasons they weren't together anymore. Derek had been insulted at the idea of him wanting a settled life, until now. Now he got it, that yes, he did want that family life like he used to have before it all went to hell. And he wanted Stiles to be part of that too. For years he had been fine with pining from a distance and now a week without his mate was a week too long.

They called, they texted, never before had Derek been glued to his phone as much as he was now but the feeling of wrongness only intensified. He felt restless, had trouble sleeping and food wasn't as appealing anymore. Stiles sounded off on the phone, but Derek couldn't catch him on a lie because through the phone he couldn't hear the heart skip. There was a strain in the voice though and he had a feeling that most of what he was feeling, came from his mate. They were both homesick, maybe it was the bond, maybe they hadn't spent enough time together? A mating bond 𝑎𝑛𝑑 an emissary bond was rare so he couldn't exactly look it up unless he'd talk to Deaton, which he didn't want. After days though, the pain had turned physical and deep down he knew his mate needed him.

A quick text to ask if he was okay had confirmed it, because he wasn't okay. And that had urged the wolf to make sure Lydia would take Beth for the weekend and had Melissa and Chris as backup in case she ditched last minute. Because he wasn't of much use like this to his pack anyways, they had to sort this out.

Friday evening, after Beth had been picked up, he threw a bag in the car and headed to San Francisco since that was easier. Checking in and out, the flight itself, it would be as long as driving, it was only three and a half hours by car after all. Late in the evening Derek had reached the address Stiles had texted, and being this close to his mate already made him feel better. Armed with his bag, he eyed the building Stiles had an apartment in. It looked friendly enough but then, San Francisco did have that with a lot of buildings, unlike New York where nothing was friendly. Probably why he had felt at ease the years he had been living there – it had matched his mood.

Locating the name tag and number of the apartment, he pretty much raced the stairs to knock on the door.

Derek couldn't get there fast enough. He texted Stiles before leaving Beacon Hills and by then Stiles was literally counting down the minutes. He put on some music on the TV to have some background noise aside from his shallow breathing. He was trying to keep himself together by then. Work that day was exceptionally challenging, eating up a lot of his energy to contain his magic from manifesting in any way and the pain of missing Derek from crippling him. He was exhausted by the time he stumbled into his apartment and locked the door behind him.

He fell into bed and had a restless nap before Derek's text. Since then he was trying to repeat his mantra that would more or less contain the flaring up magic, manifesting as a fiery and restless amber aura around him. He was unable to pull it back in. It needed an outlet, but doing some smaller magic tasks wasn't going to cut it. The dark bags under Stiles' eyes from lack of sleep and the trembling of his hands intensified. His breath was coming out as a wheeze with each shallow breath as he was lying on his side, clutching at his middle from the pain – like he did in the last few days. He pressed his eyes shut. He had heard enough times that everything happened in the brain and he was trying to will the pain away. It was as if his veins were on fire, pulling at him, scorching him from the inside. Pressing, burning, demanding an outlet. But he couldn't give that to his magic. Derek wasn't there. Stiles had a strong feeling that he could do something with the excess magic that was too strong for his too tight physical human form by then.

He was half-conscious by the time he heard that knock on the door. For a moment he thought he had only imagined it, but nonetheless he dragged himself out of bed to stumble to the door. He cursed himself inwardly for not leaving it open, because just going from the bed to there felt like a huge effort. Still, he tried to put on an 'I'm fine' mask out of habit when he opened it.

Aside from his father – who's been mostly oblivious to the supernatural world when the real shit had gone down – there hasn't been anyone who would truly and deeply care about his well-being. He used to be just a human. The people he had surrounded himself with had bigger problems than his mental health – even if they looked out for his physical one.

But not Derek. As he opened the door – clinging to it – and saw his expression and the worry in his eyes, he knew Derek cared about him for real. He knew he was close, he could feel it with some time. And having Derek standing there in his familiar outfit and expression made something ease up in Stiles' chest.

"Derek..." he rasped and literally fell against him as his legs finally gave out under him. Stiles was clinging to him for dear life, inhaling all that was Derek.

It was supposed to be a happy reunion, but instead when Stiles opened the door, he had his arms full of human, and not in a good way. The moment they touched, pain invaded his senses, almost making him recoil at how much of it there was. Almost. Instead though, he leeched some of it away, letting the pain darken his veins to black as he took it in. He wasn't exactly sure what was going on but he had an inkling of an idea with how Stiles was clinging to him. It had to be connected to their bonding somehow.

"You should have called me sooner." He should have said something about the pain he was in, the discomfort he had been feeling. Or was this some human malady after all? To be fair, the wolf didn't know that much about human sickness so he didn't know where to start looking for what was wrong. Instinct told him that perhaps a hospital wasn't the right place anymore for a human with magical abilities. They'd pump him full of morphine and that was about it. What else could they do if this wasn't a human ailment? They'd probably be reluctant to let him go if he got admitted because they didn't have allies in strange hospitals.

Stiles looked bad, like he hadn't slept since he had left Beacon Hills, or ate. His face was disturbingly pale. It reminded him of the time the Nogitsune had plagued the human. Gently lifting the younger man, he closed the door with his foot, moving the human to the couch because he needed to know where to take him. Hospital or back to Beacon Hills, to Deaton. Maybe Beacon Hills would be the best option regardless with Melissa and Liam's dad working at the hospital there.

"What's happening?" Derek pushed some of the hair away from Stiles' face, holding his hand tightly with the other to keep pulling the pain away.

"Not the... reunion I expected either..." Stiles chuckled low. Derek didn't have to say that, like before, he reacted to his thought. It was an unconscious thing he barely noticed he's been doing. Derek's closeness was a good thing, though. First it was cooling and calming him down for a few moments then it moved all the massive amount of magic accumulated in him. The fiery amber aura was back around him, covering his whole body and sneaking over to Derek through the black veins in his arm.

Stiles gave him both an apologetic and grateful look for sucking some of his pain away. It helped him think a bit more clearly as despite his paleness, thick sweat drops slid down from his hear line, the white tank top drenched on his chest and back.

"I'm sorry... It wasn't this bad until today. It grew with spikes during the week. Like jumping ahead... too fast. It's my magic..." he panted, knuckles turning white and trembling around Derek's fingers. "My body can't keep up with it. There isn't enough room in me... can't contain it... Needs an outlet..." he stuttered, forcing himself to push Derek's hand away. "Don't take too much..." he warned Derek, knowing what it could do to a werewolf – especially an alpha. He had heard how Derek had managed to save Cora in the past. Sacrificing the alpha spark in him in order to heal her poisoning. Stiles didn't want Derek to do that for him.

"Stop apologizing," Derek grumbled because there was nothing to be sorry about. This was related to magic which meant he should have known better, he should have ducked into the books and see if he could find anything on it before he had let the younger man leave. This was on the alpha for not taking care of his own mate and letting him handle it all by himself.

Derek frowned angrily at himself as he watched the amber flood his veins as much as the darkness of the pain did. Taking too much wasn't going to happen unless the Spark was dying and even then, there was too much magic for Derek to weaken enough to have to use his own alpha spark. A sacrifice he had never regretted to be honest. It had saved his sister's life and he'd do the same for Stiles without hesitation if it ever came to it.

Unfortunately, the human had other ideas about it and stopped him from taking more. Derek may be stubborn and hardheaded and used to always sacrificing himself, he wouldn't go on if he didn't have consent. A human body couldn't take pain in the way a werewolf could, it could go into shock and the pulling of pain at least took some of the stress on the system away. It wasn't healing, it wouldn't take the source of the pain, it aided in helping the source heal. And he was used to pain, it would barely settle in his body as he took it before his own healing kicked in and took care of it. Pain pulling however took a lot out of wolves, even alphas.

"I need you to..." Stiles started saying but groaned, his eyes beginning to glow in amber as another wave hit him, but with a warning look he stopped Derek from trying to take his pain away again. Instead a shaking hand reached into his jeans' pocket and pulled his pocket knife out. "... open yourself up to me through our... Alpha-Emissary bond... and take the excess magic until it... balances out... and the bond fully settles, " he tried to explain, getting more and more out of breath, but he tried to concentrate on the task, ignoring the dark spots starting to dance at the edge of his vision or the way he started to go lightheaded. Stiles flipped the knife open and turned his forearm out, starting to etch a rune into the pale skin with the tip of the knife. He knew he didn't have much time left so he decided to explain things later – really fucking hoping that this was going to work...

"Take the jacket off... I need your arm. Hurry, Derek..." he whispered then bit down on his lip to muffle a groan until he tasted blood in his mouth.

When Stiles reached for the knife, his eyes widened, not sure what it was for until it started to cut into delicate flesh. There was a protest on the tip of his tongue, the need to reach out and stop the blood from welling up but at least he recognized the carving wasn't at random, it was to make a drawing, a rune. Because strong magic like this required blood, or lives, it never came without a price. Jennifer had been the living proof of that.

Hastily shrugging off the jacket, he hiked up his sleeve to offer his arm. He had no idea what any of this meant, besides knowing that Stiles needed him to take the magic. It seemed unstable, hungry even, pulsing from Stiles in waves.

"Do it, do whatever you need to do." He could take it, he always could take it, he was at least good at that.

"Stop blaming yourself," Stiles uttered as he risked a look up at Derek's scowling face. He could feel it even like this, but he had no time to dwell on it. Instead he grabbed Derek's offered right arm and concentrated on keeping his hand with the knife steady enough to carve the rune in the werewolf's skin. He muttered some magic words on a long forgotten language to keep the cuts open, knowing that without that the skin would heal up too fast.

Dropping the bloody knife on the floor with little care, he let Derek's arm go just until he turned his, lining up the runes. The room was spinning by then and his vision was getting blurry as he felt the magic swell even bigger, pushing at everything that was Stiles.

"Whatever happens... don't let go!" he warned Derek and slapped his arm down on Derek's, the runes sizzling and snapping together like magnets. Stiles' fingers dug into the tense muscles of the other man's arm and started chanting.

The cuts were only a sting, they went deep enough to make blood flow, but compared to the injuries Derek had in the past, it wasn't a big deal. The prickling sting remained due to a spell, which he didn't question because of the wound not healing. It was part of the ritual, it was needed. Unfamiliar with rune magic, he watched quietly as their arms pressed together, not realizing the transfer would start right away. Because as soon as the skin and blood touched, it was like a switch was flipped and they had turned magnetic in an instant. Long fingers clutched his arm, pressing into the skin and muscles in a bruising grip, but the bruises would fade probably even before they had noticed them.

Stiles felt it. The magic, like a huge lazy monster tremble and move, gaining momentum. The Celtic tattoo was starting to glow through the white fabric of his tank top on his back, his eyes glowing brighter than ever as his dry mouth kept chanting the words he was told to use. And then like a hungry tsunami, the first wave shook his body, making his fingers dig deeper into Derek as if bracing himself. Which was very true, because he felt and saw the magic light up his veins under his skin – as if he had gold instead of blood in them – as it rushed down through his arm and found the connecting rune. Like the only door where it could leave. The outlet it has been craving so much that it had raked havoc in Stiles’ being like a wild beast.

The moment the first wave rushed into Derek, Stiles' glowing eyes rolled back into his head and his chanting became louder and more echo-y, falling deeper in his trance-like state, but the relief was visible on his face and the way his whole body shuddered. But he never let Derek's arm go as a bigger wave flowed out of him.

For Derek it was kind of like watching a volcano explode, to see the burning lava erupt from the opened crater, flooding its self-made path so fast that there was no way to avoid it. The only option was to stay there and watch it come, trickling from Stiles to fill up the arm before it found the opening into Derek and his own arm started to glow. It was what he imagined doing drugs felt like, to push a needle in the skin, press the plunger while fire entered the body in a rush. Thick burning lava sparkled through his blood, through his body, pulsing along it to take over. He didn't even know he was on his knees with his eyes closed, he wasn't aware of anything anymore as he slumped.

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