5: Bonds for Life – part 2

Stiles woke with a start, limbs slightly flailing as he was yanked out of his restless dreams by the siren of a passing ambulance. He was quite disoriented for a while, asking Derek about where they were. In the end the wolf didn't wake him up as he was sleeping too deeply – which he frankly needed a lot – and informed Stiles that they were two towns from Beacon Hills. From there it didn't take long for Derek to pull into the parking lot of a diner he knew Stiles mentioned liking a few years back and they loaded up on food in one of the separated boxes. Stiles' stomach seemed to like the idea of greasy food this time, so he ate and drank everything on his tray, washing it down with a big milkshake instead of an energy drink. Life seemed a little bit better after that as he settled into the passenger seat this time.

Though, the closer they got to their hometown, the heavier the food in his belly felt. He was sure Derek would be able to smell and feel – because now they could catch each other’s feelings easier, thanks mate bond! – that he was worried. Not for himself, but for Derek and others around him. Will he be able to fix himself and his magic? Learn why it was acting up so much since his first return to Beacon Hills? Were the bonds causing that? Will he unintentionally hurt Derek? That's the last thing he wanted to do. He has to learn full control over this quickly and Deaton better answer his ten thousand questions this time because his body still felt off. A bit more rested, but not quite right yet, even if his magic was now just shimmering in the background. It only felt like... "awakening" somewhat once they passed the Beacon Hills sign on the road. It was weird. It was as if the magic reacted to where he was. And from that ten more questions for Deaton got on his list.

After a heavy meal of fries, hamburgers and milkshakes and coffee, they both had felt more ready to deal with the exhaustion of Deaton. They needed their full wits about them after all to understand whatever riddles and half-truths they'd be hearing, and try to get straight answers to their questions. It's why Derek had insisted on the milkshakes, it had plenty of sugar in it without Stiles being hopped up on sugar and caffeine because of a large cola in his system. There was enough anxiety reeking up the car to add a hyper ADHD man to it too.

Earlier Stiles had texted the vet that they were on their way and true to his words, the dark-skinned emissary/vet or something was at the animal clinic. There were no patients because it was the evening and the place was officially closed as the sign said. He was staring at them with his annoying calm and neutral smile, but his brown eyes were examining them as they walked to the counter.

"Hey, Doc. Long time, no see. Thanks for yesterday," Stiles opened with a handshake and a small tired smile, suddenly regretting for not concealing with some make up the still there dark bags under his eyes from the intense gaze. He was also 100% sure that Deaton could feel the trembling of his hand or the slightly numbing sparks running along their arms when they shook hands.

The Hale didn't offer a handshake, he kept his hands stuffed in his coat and opted for a nod instead, not that it made the penetrative look he got from the emissary any less penetrative. Deaton always knew more than he let on, always seemed to have that uncanny ability to read people without asking anything. Okay, Derek did that too, he was able to scent others and had some stalker tendencies but he was a werewolf, so that was different. Or so he reasoned in his head to justify his unreasonable thinking. Couldn't exactly admit that the human gave him the 'heebie-jeebies.'

"Congratulations on the wedding," the vet said almost cheerfully, though there was a scathing tone to it which Derek assumed was directed at him. At least he had the decency to look down so he didn't have to see Stiles' reaction to it because yeah, Derek may have avoided telling him that they pretty much got unofficially married on werewolf terms. There was no ring, no proposal, but it was still a ‘forever until death do us apart’ kind of situation. Even more of a permanent one at that.

As Stiles rubbed his hand in his jeans in an attempt to erase the tingling of his palm and the residue energy of the sparks, he suddenly froze. "Whoa, what?? That wasn't phrased like that in any of the books I had read," he looked from one man to the other, his brain suddenly reeling with the new information. He was so stupid that he didn't realize this! Of course it was like a wedding to a werewolf. Fuuuuck... He blinked at Derek, who pointedly avoided his gaze, so he sighed and shook his head. "We'll talk about this later... hubby," the younger man emphasized the last word, but knew there were more pressing matters at the moment.

Deaton kinda ignored Stiles’ outburst and rather turned to Derek. "I have to admit, I wasn't aware it had evolved so fast between the two of you. Now I know why Stiles got sick. Derek, you didn't think to link your lack of appetite and sleep to a missing bond mate?"

"I have a toddler daughter, lack of sleep and food is normal," he grumbled in reply, feeling chastised even though he did speak the truth.

Stiles managed to suppress a smile from Derek's retort and rather focused on Deaton, who eventually nodded to Derek as if accepting his reply. "Okay, so... Doc... I have questions. A lot of questions. Will you be as cryptic as usual or straightforward like last night when my life was on the line?"

Deaton gave Stiles his usual mysterious half-smile and like so many times, he chose to ignore replying as he waved behind the counter. "Why don't we go to the back and sit down? I have a feeling this will be longer than to stand around," he said and walked to the examination room they grew to know well in the past.

"That's not an answer..." Stiles grumbled under his breath loud enough for the vet to hear, but he followed after a side-glance to Derek.

Once in the room, Deaton faced them and kept his eyes on Stiles, clearly seeing more than what he led on. "Ask your questions, Stiles," he finally said, observing how the two gravitated towards each other without realizing. He also noticed how when one of them moved, the other reacted in some kind of way too. It's been there between the two earlier as well, but now it was more noticeable – or at least for someone like him.

"First of all, this is... very new for us too and it happened much faster than we thought it would. But... it happened and obviously messed both of us up, high time. From your words I reckon that I've got sick because I wasn't around Derek when the bond was still settling?"

"Very good, Stiles. Yes, it was part of the problem. Tell me... how did your magic feel to you before and after your return to Beacon Hills?"

Stiles remained silent for a long moment as he thought it through instead of a sarcastic remark. He thought he knew what Deaton meant. "Before... it was... 'small'. Easy to call forth and control when I was learning about the basics and was practicing with it. During my visit..." he continued, thinking back as he slid his hands into his front pockets "I think it started to make leaps in growth and 'leaked' out more as control became harder. Why was that?"

Deaton took a moment to exchange a meaningful look with Derek. Obviously, Stiles still didn't know about a lot of things – important things – because of the lack of communication on the wolf's part. "Derek's closeness triggered it," he said and went silent as if that explained everything. Instead of providing a clearer explanation, he waved Stiles closer to take a better look at him under the unforgiving neon lights.

Derek's closeness didn't trigger it as much as the fact that he had dared to kiss the human, and then had dared to take it even further and then it had all changed. Knowing what they had been capable of in the past had made him keep his distance, so it had never been as triggered. Not to mention that Stiles hadn't been involved in magic until he had moved away from Beacon Hills and had realized he had a true potential there. So of course, them giving into their feelings combined with the new magic, it hadn't gone as it should have.

The Hale remained quiet at the sidelines as usual, arms crossed, listening and observing more than adding to the conversation. No matter how many meaningful looks the vet threw his way, he refused to be baited in defending himself because obviously, if he had known Stiles would have been harmed, let alone killed, he would have said it to the human. And if Deaton didn't realize that, then Derek had nothing to say to him. He was used to others thinking the worst of him and instead of snarling about it, he opted to ignore it as he always had done because in his own opinion, nobody cared to know differently anyways. Except Stiles who seemed to get Derek even more than the wolf himself did.

Of course he knew what the human looked like, especially under the harsh lights. Too pale, heavy dark smudges under his eyes, exhausted and simply like he had nearly died. So he looked like what had happened while Derek himself looked young and strong, the epitome of health. Deaton picked up on all of that as well, with the way he often glanced from Derek to Stiles, grabbing at his chin in thought. By now that was like the Deaton sign for ‘what I'm about to tell you isn't going to be something you'll like’.

"The ritual was supposed to balance the magic. Derek, how did you feel after the ritual?"

So much for standing at the sidelines. "Like I was drugged, high."

The vet hummed in answer at that, giving a regretful sigh. "That means you gained too much. It will get easier with time and it doesn't kill you so you will have to get used to that. However, Stiles needs to learn to take back some of the magic to balance it out. It is a delicate process," he continued. "Stiles is in control of it, in the taking and giving. If he gives too much, he will be sick. If he takes too much, you will be sick. He has to learn to know what his own magic is within you, so he won't take yours. But with your soul half gone, it will be very unlikely he will be able to feel the difference."

Glad that the examination of his state was mostly done, Stiles listened to the conversation while his mind fired up and started racing. "It makes sense..." he murmured more to himself and leaned against the stainless steel table with his butt, fingering the edge of the bandage on his forearm as if unconsciously itching to try to take some of the magic back. "But if I'm not likely to feel the difference – which is something I refuse to believe – then how am I supposed to do the ritual right? I don't want to accidentally hurt him. Or anyone else, for that matter," he frowned at Deaton, who simply smiled again. On some days Stiles itched to wipe that nearly condescending smile off. But then maybe it was more of a 'you don't know so many things yet' kind. He could never tell with Deaton. Or his sister.

"There are ways to help you with that. Did your back tattoo exhibit unusual behavior?" the vet asked. To an outsider it might have sounded strange, because it nearly sounded as if Deaton was talking about the tattoo as if it was alive. In some way it was, though.

"Yeees..." Stiles stressed the vowel with a questioning tone, his frown deepening. "When we... erm... It kinda came alive. Amber glow and growing root-like tendrils. They even spread onto Derek's skin and stayed until the tattoo touched him and my... magic started calming down," he provided with a light blush on his otherwise pale cheeks. "They faded into him eventually. What does that mean?"

"It means that it works as it should. As you should know since you are wearing one, such magical tattoos are good focal points to focus the wielder's magic. Apparently in your case it works even with you unconsciously using it. It's rare and a sign of natural talent. Just like I thought," he added the last more to himself, obviously hinting at the fact that he had seen that Spark in Stiles years ago.

"Then why didn't you teach me before?" Stiles finally blurted out the question that's been on his mind for a long while. Probably echoing Derek's same question too.

Deaton's expression changed into a nearly apologetic one. "You weren't ready, Stiles. You have to understand that everything happens with a reason and everything has its own time. Back then it wasn't the right time and your Spark was mostly dormant, not triggered. Frankly, I was surprised that your... connection to the Nemeton didn't trigger it more..." he mused, rubbing his chin again. "But maybe it did now..." the emissary hummed, glimpsing at Derek questioningly, as if asking if he, himself had felt something different. "You haven't told him yet, have you?"

"Haven't told me what?" Stiles tried to decipher the silent communication going on between the two men. Which boiled down to Derek's usual brooding glare and Deaton's calm yet somehow urging one.

It was easy to see why Deaton had mentioned his soul problem, he wanted them to get into that and attempt to fix it so Stiles would have full use of the bonds they had made and the magic ritual they had done. Derek wasn't so keen on getting that half back, especially now that he felt it wasn't needed. The emptiness would be easier to deal with now that he was bonded. Though he did wonder how fair it would be to his mate when one half of the pair wasn't fully whole. And if Stiles would refuse to take magic back because of the possible danger of taking too much from Derek. Then there was no choice in the matter, they had to figure it out. He wasn't going to leach on the human's health.

Deaton hadn't even made a face or blushed at the way Stiles had hinted at but avoided saying what they had been doing, but the man had been emissary. Werewolf packs, especially with born wolves were rather shameless. They didn't have the same hold ups that human society had but it was kind of cute to see the usually crass human stumble over his words due to their privacy. The rest was understandable, basically the same reason why Derek had opted to push Stiles away and to not stick around Beacon Hills that often. The younger man had been happy with Lydia at the time, had gone to college and it had seemed like the Hale hadn't been needed anymore. Because they both hadn't been ready. Of course his quietness didn't last long when he was dragged back into the conversation by being put on the spot like that.

Sighing, he looked down, studying his hands as if they were holding his interest when in truth, he geared himself up for what he was implored to tell. There was temptation to snarl at Deaton to tell the story since he knew it so well but it was a childish rebuttal to cover up his own refusal so he swallowed it.

"When I killed Paige, it didn't only keep the Nemeton alive." That part of the story Stiles knew because Peter had been so blunt in telling it to Cora and Stiles. It hadn't done anything to help them defeat Jennifer so it still stung to have something so intimate shared without his consent. "It also created a link to me. It was why Jennifer had been eager to have me close to her. It was a dormant kind of link, until a few years back when, in a fight, I was badly injured and the fight was at the Nemeton. I bled a lot. Days later Erica came back. When it happened again, Allison was returned and it happened three times now."

Alan nodded to that, of course he had been expecting the explanation to be as short as possible, lacking all kinds of details and only focusing on what was needed to know. Or what Derek was willing to share.

"As you know, Druids have sacrificed to Nemetons for a very long time, I suspect it gives Derek fallen warriors to reward his sacrifice, no matter that it was not willing. It has no ill intent, it gives and it takes, much as you do, Stiles. The Hales have protected Beacon Hills to protect the Nemeton. It was their duty, the Nemeton took it as such." Which was something that should have kept Derek from connecting with more magic without guidance in the vet's view. "You and Derek have a link to a powerful tree, when the two of you linked together as well, it amplified."

What Derek revealed was like a blow into the stomach for Stiles. He even made a sound as if the air was pushed out of his lungs. The staring detective's emotions stirred up and in reaction to that, his magic too. There was confusion, disbelief then some disappointment and maybe a bit of anger too. When the room tilted, he plopped down on the stool by the table and he took a few deep breaths, working on reining in his emotions and magic before looking up at Derek.

The werewolf seemed and felt uncomfortable, defiant as if he still didn't understand how this was happening without his consent. Although now all three of them knew the reason behind it. Stiles knew enough of Nemetons to understand they were a force of nature without consciousness. They were points of energy – magic, if you like – which concentrated in them and they've been worshiped, used and protected for thousands of years. Sometimes Stiles could still feel that connection to the tree even when he was awake, although it manifested more often during his dreams. In the past he had hated and feared it, but with time he had learned to accept that it was going to be there. And frankly, it didn't feel malicious. It felt ancient and massive, mostly dormant, but still present in his life.

His heart ached and he stopped himself from clutching at his own chest. "They both were my friends. Why haven't you told me that they are back? Does anyone else know?" he asked quietly, trying to grasp the fact that they were alive... or something. But Derek should've told him! He mourned their deaths for months – hell, he never really got over them! Erica had grown especially close to Stiles with her wicked humor and teasing ways. For god's sake, she even admitted at the end that Stiles made a good Batman! He could never watch Batman again since her death.

Dropping his gaze to the tiled floor, he leaned on his hands as his fingers dug into his knees and he took a few more calming breaths. A panic attack or a fit of anger with his magic getting loose wouldn't be a great thing right now.

"So... are they like... mindless zombies now? Or like in iZombie? Was it a full revival? Oh god, don't tell me it's like in Pet Cemetery because then I'll quit my life!" he chuckled bitterly, fighting off the lingering feeling of betrayal. "I know this is fucked up and probably that's the reason you didn't announced these accidents all over, but... Derek... It's me... They were my friends..." he looked up with sadness, seemingly unable to step over the fact that this important information was kept even from him.

"They're fine, they're not zombies." The werewolf said shortly to mask how he felt about Stiles' pain and accusation, because it hurt to hear those words, to feel how the human dealt with hearing it. There was grief, anger, betrayal, confusion... Of course there were many reasons why he wasn't going around telling people, not even those who had been close to them. Because one of the reasons was the fact it was their choice who they were telling and Stiles hadn't been in Beacon Hills, so the girls had focused on those who had been. In Allison's case that was her father and Melissa, and Erica had mostly latched onto Derek since her parents had moved away and none of the other betas had been alive or in town.

They blamed Derek for ripping them away from their lives and then for throwing them back into it without asking them – Allison more than Erica. Stiles blamed him too and it made him play it close to the chest, closing off rapidly because he couldn't deal with being blamed yet again. Tired of having to explain himself because everybody always assumed the worst and Stiles? Stiles wasn't supposed to do that, he wasn't supposed to be close to a panic attack because of Derek. It only intensified the guilty feelings he was already struggling with. Because nobody cared he hadn't wanted any of it, he hadn't asked to nearly die repeatedly to revive people. He hadn't had a choice in who it was going to be, hadn't had a choice in laying there in his own sticky blood as the ground and the stump had soaked it all up. Everybody always took and took and where did it get him? In Hell being tortured for being too good a guy. Well congratulations, he had lost half of his soul and anger was more of a motivator these days than the actual guilt.

"What do you think happens when it gets out that my blood revives long gone dead people to full health? If something happens to their loved ones, they'll be at my door to ask me to give their person back. And do you think they'll accept no? I have to nearly die each time, Stiles. I'm not some blood bag. And I'm not your battery to be used when I'm needed! I may not be much of a person these days but I'm still a person!" He didn't mean to shout, he didn't mean to be so angry but that's what came out because he was sick and tired of being treated like a thing, an object or a weapon.

Deaton silently stepped closer to Stiles, not because he thought Derek might attack the human but because the human might attack the wolf. "We nearly lost Derek those times, and those revived have not reacted well to the shock of finding out years have passed."

The Hale seethed quietly, eyes narrowed to the older druid because was he defending him? That was new.

"I thought it was prudent to keep this quiet, for this gift to be used with ill intent would darken the Nemeton's magic as well," the vet continued, ignoring the heated glare because it was Derek, he did that.

Feeling Derek close off from him so abruptly tugged at their bonds and it nearly caused physical pain to Stiles. He quickly concluded that he hated that feeling with his very being because it left him alone, cold and hurting again. Derek shouting at him angrily even more so. It made his chest tighten even more, air becoming thinner by the minute because his alpha's... his mate’s anger was directed at him. It quickly pushed Stiles to the brink of tears as he looked to the side, unable to hold Derek's burning gaze. He fought the tears though just as hard as the panic attack and the swelling up magic which wanted to protect him. But he didn't want to hurt Derek, even if he was being an asshole who misunderstands his words. Again...

What made Stiles' jaw clench and his nails dig into his knees – strong enough to bruise and turn his knuckles white – was the comment about Derek being his 'battery'. It made guilt knock out confusion and disbelief from the mix. Of course, he had noticed how Deaton got closer to him and his magic reacted to that too, nearly 'hissing' as if it wanted the other druid to stay away. But otherwise it just kept slightly swirling in him. It took every ounce of his limited energy to keep it that way and his voice to stay quiet. The old Stiles would've already raised his voice, explain his point with flailing arms and big hand gestures. Now he was afraid to loosen his grip on his aching knees, because he had sworn to himself that he wasn't going to hurt Derek (or anyone undeserving) with his magic. It was one of his biggest fears, especially nowadays when it was growing so rapidly and his control was so poor over it.

"Don't project your feelings on me, Derek. I wasn’t blaming you! I was asking why you haven't told me..." he said a bit short on breath still. "My comment about understanding that the situation is fucked up was meant like I know you couldn't start telling people about this. I'm not stupid! I know what danger this carries!" he finally looked up at the other man, the amber shimmering in his welled-up eyes. "And just like you didn't choose to become a fucking necromancer by accident, I didn't choose to make you my 'battery' either! Or do you think I had a choice about that?!" he sniffed, the guilt choking him for a long moment. "For god's sake..." Stiles cursed, curling in on himself as his tears finally fell onto his jeans-clad thighs, his frustration making the glasses in the cabinets and around the room clink together repeatedly, as if there was a small earthquake in the brewing.

It wasn't just Derek's behavior and cutting himself off, leaving him to deal with his slipping control and impending panic attack alone that frustrated him. It was himself too. "Doc... if you have any advice on how to get a better grip of my control, don't hesitate to share it right now..." he gritted through his clenched teeth.

Deaton watched him with a deep frown, one hand cautiously reaching out towards the shimmering air surrounding Stiles then pulling it back as if it zapped or burned him. He glimpsed at the wolf seriously.

"Don't cut him off! It makes things worse for both of you," he warned and crouched down near Stiles but didn't try to touch him again. "Find your anchor, Stiles. Calm your mind. It works the same way like before you came back here. It just takes more concentration and you have to pour more of your belief in it. You have to believe that you have all the power to contain your emotions and magic. Conquer your fear and pain. Let them wash over you and let the emotions go one by one. Let the bond help you too. What's your mantra?"

"I am mindful and in the moment..."

"Good. Repeat it," Deaton instructed.

"I am mindful and in the moment..." he whispered over and over again, closing his eyes and trying to do what the druid said.

It would have been easier to leave, to accept defeat and go because he had told Stiles this would happen, he had told him Derek ruined the people around him and they got hurt. Relationships, friendships, family, they'd all leave. By death or by choice. It wasn't that having half a soul meant he had less feelings, it meant he felt the negative ones more and he had less control over his snarkiness and bluntness. It had been an asshole comment, to call himself a battery because he had forced it upon himself. Stiles never had a clue what it had all meant.

Instead he had lashed out at a human already on the verge of a panic attack, making him cry and lose control. And it didn't make him feel good about himself, it made him feel exactly what he deserved to feel, and one of the reasons why he was reluctant to open it all back up. The younger man didn't deserve to feel any of that, it was his burden to carry, he didn't want Stiles to feel it through the bond but he couldn't keep him out either if that made him have no control. So he carefully pushed it all down and away to deal with it some other day, drawing strength from the emptiness inside to wash over all the emotions. It was then that he opened it all up again, carefully keeping himself restrained as he watched his mate work on control like a werewolf would.

The vet hovered near Stiles so Derek kept to where he was firmly rooted, arms crossed, his energy mostly focused on not running off and to keep his emotions wrapped away. They never should have bonded. Three weeks into having the Hale back in his life and Stiles was sitting in Deaton's clinic, crying and near panic. Stuck in bonds he had no choice in, too much magic to deal with and it nearly killed him, probably losing his job too while they were at it. It was some kind of record to ruin a life in 3 weeks. Usually he'd take at least 3 months and they ended up dead. The reminder of who he was… it had been needed because for a moment he had thought that happiness was something he might achieve. They had to get ahead of this so it would end and he couldn't spend the time feeling sorry for himself, this was about helping the young human find a way to deal with the magic. And pissing him off or hurting him wasn't going to make him take the magic back.

"That's it, you're doing well, Stiles," Deaton encouraged, ignoring Derek and fully focused on Stiles. It had been needed to point out the Nemeton connection but he should have realized how well that would go over with either of them. They had so much potential but they both had been damaged by what had happened.

Derek had been developing and growing but his experience in Hell had changed all that. The young alpha was drowning in guilt and he'd never forget how he had returned months ago, skinny and older, stuck in monthly heat cycles, so carefully controlled in his emotions that it had been clear of the damage hiding behind it. A bonding like this had been far too soon but it had happened and as usual, he could only attempt to help the children deal with the consequences.

"Perhaps you should touch him, Derek," Deaton suggested.

The alpha shook his head quickly, face pulled into a frown. He doubted Stiles would want that, he had made him cry not even minutes ago.

Stiles focused on each word of his repeated mantra, at first trying desperately to make himself believe he can actually do this. It was so tempting to give into the panic, let it make him black out where he cannot feel or see anything. He just wanted peace and to rest – perhaps sleep for a week. But his fear from what would happen if he gave in was stronger.

It took him a couple of minutes to feel the mantra starting to work. The first sign was that the jiggling of the glasses has stopped around them and the air wasn't that thick with magic anymore. It made Stiles breathe a bit easier by the time Deaton complimented his progress. He had to fully close out his upset emotions for now until his control was back and the panic gone.

Deaton's suggestion made him falter for a moment in his chanting as he thought about it. He could feel Derek again through the bond, but he was suspiciously void of most emotions. It wasn't hard for Stiles to figure out even now what kind of emotions he was hiding from him. Guilt. Lots of guilt. Pain. Beating himself up. Probably wanting to flee and give up on them – so soon after their bonding.

That thought made Stiles' heart twist in his chest again, because he didn't want that. He didn't want Derek to quit on them when they got to the first obstacle and fight as a couple. They both knew their relationship wasn't going to be easy and Stiles intended to keep himself to his word to fight for them in every meaning. Not just when it meant external threat, but internal ones too – like now.

He didn't have to look up to guess that Derek shook 'no' with his head to Deaton's suggestion, because he could feel the hesitation and the lack of movement from the other side of the room. That was like another stab and made something snap in Stiles.

"Come here, you moron!" one of his aching hands raised into the air before he could think of moving it and with that a wave of his magic shot out of it, wrapping around Derek to literally pull him in. Like a fucking Jedi, Stiles thought, looking up as Derek's hand finally touched his, warmth and the feeling of stability immediately starting to spread down his arm, coaxing a relieved sigh to escape Stiles, his teary and glowing eyes locking into the wolf's.

Funny how quickly he was used to the swelling of the magic, inhaling it, almost with how it took the air in the room. It wasn't a good sign that Stiles was calming down but at the same moment he had noticed it, it also dissipated. The human was calming down, had stopped breathing high in his chest and the heart beat wasn't that of a terrified bunny anymore. It apparently made him in control of the magic again because one moment he had been leaning against the wall to stay far away and the next his hand was in Stiles' outstretched one. Deaton looked like this was perfectly normal while Derek was wide-eyed at the show of power. He was a tall heavy werewolf, not exactly the easiest to move.

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