The way he took the hand in his own was out of his own volition, and he would have moved when Stiles had barked at him to come here, because he had thought he hadn't been welcome to touch. The moving of him had been involuntary by the other as well, the magic was unbalanced and he had no idea what he could do so Stiles was bound to have moments like these.

"I don't mind being your battery." It was a weak apology but it was fully meant. He didn't like the idea of somebody else being that important to his mate. The idea of having to share that kind of intimacy with somebody else, this was Derek's and he could handle it without problems. It was only going to be a problem if that was all he'd ever be. Just the power source and nothing more, the one to keep Stiles alive. Which was his job anyways because it was about his mate.

"This is going to be challenging," Deaton muttered but he didn't send them away so Derek assumed he was up for the challenge. "Obviously you both need to learn how to communicate better," he continued and the werewolf rolled his eyes at that because yes, that was something they had known even before they were in a relationship together.

"As usual, I'm not very good at it," Derek shot back, throwing the vet's own words from years ago back in his face. When Deaton had helped Derek after Peter had used him to revive himself and the older man had accused Derek of not being a good alpha.

Deaton seemed to realize what Derek just did, but he didn't react aside from blinking once and standing up, seeing and sensing that Stiles was getting a better grip on his control and panic.

Which was true. The young emissary was gulping down air easier and steadier as he wiped his face clean from the remains of his tears and chuckled weakly from Derek's 'apology'. God, the wolf was so fucking clueless sometimes... Squeezing the big hand as its warmth was spreading further in Stiles, he sighed.

"Derek... you are so much more than just a 'battery' to me... You'll always be the person I'll want you for you. Not because of what extraordinary things you can do. Deaton is right and we've already started working on the communication part," he sighed again as he glimpsed at the vet. To his questioning look, Stiles nodded. "I'll be fine now. Sorry about the drama," he mumbled and had the decency to flush at least a bit, his thumb unwittingly drawing small circles onto the skin between Derek's thumb and index-finger to calm perhaps both of them as he looked up at his mate again.

"Don't lock me out like that again. It hurt as hell," he mumbled. "Feeling you helps not just the magic, but for me to understand you and your feelings better too. I know you are still holding back from me, but I hope that with time those boundaries between us will fall too."

"That's exactly what you'll have to do," Deaton noted as he went to one of the cabinets that contained mostly old-looking books. They kinda looked out of place in an animal clinic, but then not many focused on the interior when they came into the examination room. "You have two very important and strong bonds, which will need... let's say, 'maintaining' to keep them healthy and strong. They can grow weak if you neglect them, or get stronger," he said with his back to them while he drew his finger along the spines of the books neatly lined on the shelves, clearly searching for something. "It's been a while since I've seen anything remotely as strong as these two new bonds are," he mused and pulled a book off the shelf he was checking, flipping it open before putting it under his arm and continuing to search for another one.

Refusing to let the hand in his go, Stiles blinked up at Derek a bit questioningly and to see if he knew what the Doc was talking about then his amber eyes returned to the other man's annoyingly calm figure. "So... what does that mean?"

"To put it bluntly, it means..." Deaton took a second book out of the cabinet and turned around to face them "that you can either become a powerful force to reckon with, or become unstable and destroy each other in the process."

"What?!" Stiles' glowing eyes widened, but he had a firmer grip on his control and body now – thanks to Derek's closeness and the physical contact too. Though some sparks still ran up on Derek's branded arm.

Deaton paused then walked back to the stainless steel table and put the books down. "You both have to understand that the kind of magic you possess is unique not just because it's your heritage from your mother’s side and is emissary-related, but because you both are linked to a Nemeton deeper than the few such instances I've heard of. Your union made your awakening magic do much bigger leaps than your physical body can adjust to and handle for long. You need a 'buffer' or 'battery' to store the excess magic. If you don't teach your body how to accept and control the magic, how to balance it between you and Derek, it can get dangerous. If the bonds are unbalanced for long or deteriorate too much... it can get... problematic."

"How... problematic? Be honest, Doc. I can take it," Stiles looked at the other man deadly serious. Somehow knowing that they both had to hear this.

"Very problematic."

"You mean lethally problematic for me..." Stiles said out what Deaton was skirting around as if worried he couldn't handle the truth. But they all knew that it couldn't be hidden for long. The vet's meaningful silence and empathizing look told him everything. "It's fine. I can live with that. But what would happen to Derek?"

"I die," Derek spoke up, because that had already been a real danger of happening in a bond when it was broken. They’d die or go insane, like Peter. Bonds could be transferred, not broken and the older the bond, the more damage it could take. They could be blocked, for pretty much forever, which was the closest to divorce it could get but he had a feeling it wasn't going to be that simple for them with having two connections and all this magic involved. "Two halves of a whole can't be without one another."

"In a way, you've made Derek your familiar, and you're feeding him with your magic. However, bonds to a werewolf are permanent and it's unclear what happens to familiars if their witch or warlock were to die. Some survive and some don't but in Derek's case... Now, within time, you can both have distance without the sickness happening, as long as the bonds are healthy. But you cannot block the bond for long and you cannot break it." The vet opened up on the pages he had been looking for, running his finger along the ancient lines while the two of them were reeling with the news. Well, Stiles was. For the Hale it wasn't as much of a surprise anymore, he had assumed as much because it always came with a price.

"He can't be without me."

"The magic would consume him," Deaton answered to the point for once even though it was never a direct yes or no answer. "What Stiles has to learn now is to balance his power between you and him. What you have to learn, is to not close him out and we will have to expose you to increases of magic to make you able to withstand more. This will take time we do not have so I suggest to clear your schedules for the upcoming weeks."

Which was something Derek had figured the moment he had heard he was going to get used to more and more magic. The both of them were going to be exhausted, sick if the balance of magic was off and in Derek's case he was most likely going to spend his weeks high as a kite. They were going to have to inform Noah, the loft was going to have to wait and they had to find a way to explain it to Beth because she was going to have to spend more time with the adopted grandparents, Melissa and Chris. Noah had taken too much time off months ago to help out, but there might be others willing to help too. Because Derek and Stiles were going to have to focus on eating well, sleeping enough, practicing and not drive one another up the walls while they were at it. They were going to work on their communication but it wasn't going to come to them that quick. Derek would know, he has been trying to communicate better for years.

Pale green eyes glanced at their locked hands and the way sometimes a flicker of ember would trail up to his wrist to settle at his forearm where the rune mark was. It was a scary thought, that if he were to die, that Stiles was going to die along with him because well, that was a serious problem. "I die a lot."

"Then you better not stay dead for very long. As it happens you aren't very good at staying dead. It’s a Hale quality," Deaton noted.

Why did Derek have a feeling that the Nemeton was behind all of this? The connection to him, him not dying easily, now bonded to a magic wielder, it all happening when there was no alpha in town anymore?

It was a lot to digest and Stiles was sure that later he was going to freak out over it big time, but not now. Now he was just sitting there, nodding along to Deaton's words. His mind was already focusing on the tasks ahead. It was easier than letting another panic attack jump on him and render him useless – and dangerous. It was going to be a lot of work for all three of them, no doubt about that. He hoped that Beth would understand and adjust, because this was going to affect her life too. And Noah's as well. Without noticing, his thoughts were once again echoing Derek's, but the hand around his and the familiar presence felt comforting, giving him strength to face the harsh truth. This was a death or life situation for both of them. It will require a lot of sweat, blood, tears and sacrifices (starting with Stiles quitting his job in San Francisco because he needed his full attention on this).

Looking up at Derek again, he just watched the sharp lines of the familiar face. It looked like a poker face, but Stiles knew the little telltale signs that the wheels were turning in the wolf's head too while Stiles let himself get used to the new term 'familiar'. From fairy tales and movies he remembered those usually being black cats or owls or ravens, but of course he had to do this differently and aim higher too. He got himself an evolved black alpha werewolf... Typical Stiles!

Being a familiar entailed more than many knew. Derek had met one before so he knew the term was fitting to describe their relationship magic-wise. More terms for Stiles to look up when they weren't going to be too exhausted to move that was. They were going to join in on magic boot camp. The squeeze of his hand drew his attention to the human. The promise of not letting him die was one he'd gladly make himself but it wasn't realistic. He was alpha, he was Hale, they had a whole town full of supernaturals and a magic tree to protect. Getting injured, near fatally was par for the course. However, he now had a daughter and a mate to take care of so dying wasn't something he was aspiring. Never had.

Squeezing Derek's hand again, Stiles concentrated on their bonds and experimentally let his resolve and comforting intentions travel through the mate bond to see if the other man could feel them.

"I won't let you die again. We can do this. Together," he echoed one of his previous promises. "Despite everything that would indicate otherwise, I believe in us. It doesn't mean I'm not worried or terrified, but it was proven quite clearly that together we are stronger. We tackle this then we'll fix your soul too and figure the rest out. One step at a time," he smiled softly and encouragingly at his mate. Even now, after such serious news about what failing would mean for both of them, he wanted Derek to be reassured, to know that Stiles was on his side, that he got his back. "We should stop blaming ourselves and focus on the first step."

Stiles' pep talk was appreciated, and probably not just for his sake since he could feel that the human was pushing his emotions aside as well, focusing on the now so the freak out was going to come later when they were home and had more time to think. The wolf was more stuck on the worried and terrified, the knowledge that a whole person's life was depending on his ability not to die. Not even worried that Stiles wasn't going to master the magic because he was determined and certainly not a quitter, so the chances of him killing Derek were small. To fix this and his soul, it sounded so easy, would have been easy if Deaton wasn't eyeing them with that face of his that spelled doom and gloom in neutral.

"I don't blame you for...-" His voice trailed off because well, it took a moment to land and a pointed look from his mate to realize that he mostly meant Derek blaming himself, hence the word ourselves. "Right." No dying and no self-blame. It might be easier to make pigs fly but that was not something he said out loud, they all knew it.

Deaton watched the mates silently – and maybe hopefully – and even a small approving smile tugged at his lips.

"When and how do we start?" Stiles broke the eye-contact with Derek to glimpse at the druid, his voice stronger and clearer.

"Right now would be preferable if you are up to it," the vet suggested and waited until both nodded. "Show me your rune, Stiles."

To that he reluctantly let Derek's hand go – missing the connection right away – and tugged up his henley's sleeve to take off the bandage. To his surprise, the rune was nearly completely healed, the lines still playing in a faint red. "Don't tell me I'll be able to heal faster too..."

With his hand returned, Derek glanced at the reveal of the bandage, again not surprised because when he had pulled pain, it hadn't come from there.

Deaton seemed to be on the same page. "Not quite, Stiles. Derek is able to heal faster. With your bonds to him, you have inherited some of his specific abilities. They are his, you simply borrow from him. Hearing, sight, smell, taste… those will all be stronger once you two have settled."

There was no explaining the deep instant relief Derek felt hearing that from the older man. Stiles was going to be harder to kill, he was going to heal faster and he wasn't less human, he had the perks of werewolves, slightly, not fully but perhaps... "Can he use my healing through magic when the injury is more severe?"

"It will require a spell, but it should be possible. However, it will transfer it to you so you both will have to be careful not to use that particular spell when Derek needs his strength in battle."

"Wicked..." Stiles blurted out, not being able to hold it back. Running with the pack and other non-human creatures was always the hardest on the humans of the gang when it came to keeping up, sensing danger and injuries. Stiles had had his fair share of those since Scott had been bitten and also a few during his work too. Knowing that he could kinda borrow some to heal was at least some good news. Not so much when it came to more serious injuries and their transfer to the wolf.

"Technically I know Derek can take a lot more than I ever could, but I still don't like this transferring-my-injury-to-him thing. So... maybe let's try to avoid that. How about using my magic to heal myself instead? Is that possible? Apparently I'm a Jedi now..." Stiles deadpanned, thinking about how he literally pulled a big muscular werewolf to him as if he had no weight. He was also unable not to feel a bit better from Derek's relief. It must have been quite frustrating for the wolf to know how fragile and mortal Stiles used to be. Now that seemed to be changing too. And who knows where those changes will stop?

"Only time and practice can tell what you might be able to do with your magic, Stiles. Each emissary's magic is unique to the wielder. You'll have to explore it once you have better control over it," Deaton once again evaded giving a straightforward answer. Stiles wasn't even surprised by that at that point. Maybe he didn't know the answer or Stiles was 'just not ready for it', as he liked to phrase it way too often.

"I'll find a way," Stiles stated determined. Inflicting wounds on his mate was an idea his whole body shuddered from.

It wasn't that big of a deal for Derek to take the injuries from Stiles because they'd be human injuries which his body would heal fast and his discomfort would be only temporary. And it wasn't that Stiles was badly injured all the time. It was preferable to suffering for a moment instead of worrying for weeks in a hospital chair. It was something that they had to discuss when they weren't around Deaton. One of the many things and it felt like they weren't going to be done talking for months to come.

Stiles was going to give up his job in San Francisco to be here with Derek, he was going to give up his apartment and friends, his life to come back to Beacon Hills, to be partner to a werewolf and help raise a little hybrid girl. He knew the young man didn't see it as a huge sacrifice, he wanted to do this, wanted to be involved with Elizabeth, wanted to make the loft their home. But it felt like a huge sacrifice and like Derek wasn't doing enough to compensate for all the human was willing to do for him and his small family. At least let him have the comfort in knowing that if it was needed, he could take the injury and pain from him, he wanted to.

"And what now?" Stiles glimpsed down at his nearly healed rune, bringing Derek back from his thoughts.

"Now you and Derek will connect once I explained what you'll have to do," Deaton provided, going to pull another stool opposite Stiles and gestured for Derek to sit down, but his focus was already back on the youngest man. "You can open the connection any time you put your forearms together and you repeat the same spell you used last night. Do you remember the words?"

"Yes," Stiles said, tensing up a bit because he knew this was important and he couldn't screw up. If he took too much, he would hurt Derek.

"Good. Once the connection is open, I need you to focus on keeping the magic in you in place and try to feel up the portion that's inside Derek. It might be... somewhat more difficult because missing half a soul messes things up metaphysically too in the body."

"Makes sense. So what? I look for my magic and call some of it back to me?"

"Exactly," Deaton smiled approvingly. "It'll take practice to find the perfect balance as the level and amount of your magic can leap time after time unexpectedly but as long as the connection is open, you can push and pull until it feels right and balanced. Is this clear to you?" he asked, not because he thought Stiles wouldn't comprehend what he was saying, but because it was crucial for him to know what he was doing to be able to manipulate the magic like that.

"Sure. Emissary-mate training 101," Stiles grumbled, eyes glued to the rune on his arm, eyes widening for a split second when the outlines began shimmering in amber light and he felt a pull. As if the rune or the magic itself was already searching for that connection. "When I find that balance, I just close the connection, right? No extra Gandalf trick required?"

Deaton's lips twitched upwards from that reference then he shook his head. "Yes, you just do that, no extra trick."

Settling in the chair, Derek knew he wasn't required to do more than just sit there and let Stiles roam inside with the magic, to keep the connection as open as possible. It shouldn't be painful since it hadn't been his magic in the first place, it was only stored there.

"Don't worry about hurting me, I can take it. Just don't commit suicide by killing me." That comment resulted in a snort and an eye-roll from Stiles while the wolf was already dragging the chair closer. He made sure their knees were touching so they could connect their arms easier. And he held out his arm, giving the permission to go ahead and do this.

"I will not interfere but if I tell you to stop, Stiles, you stop. I will keep an eye on both of you but I can only know if you took too much if Derek starts to look sick."

The vet seemed worried, Derek noted, and he realized this balancing of magic might take longer than last time because the human had no idea what he was doing. And finding the balance when half of his soul had been filled up with magic not his was going to be tricky.

"If he takes too much..."

"Then he'll give back tomorrow. It won't kill you, it will simply make you ill, like Stiles has been," Deaton answered him and that was fair enough. If Stiles could be sick for a day, he could survive a day too.

Stiles listened to Deaton closely. It was kind of a comfort to know that if he took too much, they could try again. But he had to fight off his insecurities and worries so he could believe... no, know that he can do this. Just like when he managed to complete the mountain ash trap years ago, or when he was practicing with his witch friend. Or when last night they successfully did the ritual. (Even if then the magic was the participant that seemed to "know" the most what to do.) Now he'll have to focus on refining the process. Stop his mind trying to over-complicate and overthink it.

Looking at Derek's bare forearm, he could see the same golden shimmering appearing on that rune too, calling for Stiles with the pull he felt from his own forearm. Taking a few deep breaths, he repeated his mantra in his head to clear it and focus on the task at hand. Lifting his own arm, he paused for a moment before their skin could touch to look at Derek. He was ready and felt calmer than Stiles, who drew from that to strengthen his belief.

"Here goes nothing. Buckle up, folks..." he murmured then pressed his rune against Derek's, his long fingers curling around the muscular forearm. He could immediately feel the shift in both of them and even the room, his magic rising, bubbling up in him. But before starting the chanting, he focused on stopping and keeping it steady. With his mind he visualized a barrier sliding into place to hold it back from leaping at Derek the second the connection was established.

When he felt he was ready, the young emissary began the chant and amber light began to shimmer between their pressed together arms. He could feel Deaton's worried but silent attention on them, but he ignored that and completely focused on strengthening that barrier and when his magic stayed put, he closed his glowing eyes and concentrated on Derek.

It was like following a thread up through the wolf's arm, twisting and forking down to many other ones. In his mind's eye he could see the tangled mess of the amber and golden threads – getting even more complicated and entangled the closer he got to the middle of his mate's chest, to his incomplete soul...

Despite the trance he seemed to have slipped in, Stiles quietly gasped in-between two verses as he tried to take a better look at that. He never had such a "vision," never could "see" someone's soul like this. It indeed looked like... an incomplete, shapeless, slowly pulsing area, a core, but somehow Stiles knew that it wasn't as bright as it should've been. It was like a mini-sun turned down to half its capacity. And the threads of both bonds netted over it... protectively?

For a moment the in-awe Stiles thought he could even touch it with his hand as it looked so palpable to him. Then he realized that he can reach out for it with lightly pulling on his magic. So he carefully tugged on the thread that he was gravitating toward and imagined gently caressing the incomplete soul. His promise to make it whole again one day there in that gesture. He had no idea how it would feel to or affect Derek, but it felt like the right thing to do on his part. His own physical body – which felt so distant since the chanting has started – sighed with relief and relaxed some more.

By then Stiles instinctively knew what to do. So he started tracing his "steps" back towards his body, the touching runes like a guiding beacon in his mind. And he kept a hold on one of the threads, pulling on the magic that was his. When the pull was too strong and the magic seemed to strain like a seat belt one jerks on too fast, he quickly eased up on the pull and continued more gently until he was back in his body and the magic followed through their open connection, joining the rest in him through the crack he had opened up in his mental barrier.

It was different this time, their contact, because the magic wasn't seeking solitude within Derek, it wasn't spilling over so it was much gentler. There was no rush of heat taking his breath away, not a sea of lava overtaking everything, it was like a caress. The tickling of feather light extremely hot fingers searching along his veins, crawling up inside deeper and deeper. The plan had been to sit there and watch Stiles do his thing but it was impossible to keep his eyes open at the intimate intrusion.

Golden tendrils ran along his arm and up his chest, where the ember glowing eyes were focused on and if Derek would have seen it, he would have compared it to Superman's X-ray vision the way Stiles seemed to look inside of him. There was no way he could be even more bared to his mate, he might as well rip open his rib cage and stare at his beating heart but it wasn't as violent. It felt more like undressing for him for the first time, but not even that had been as intimate because nudity was normal for the werewolf and this? This wasn't normal at all.

A strangled noise escaped Derek, when he felt the intent to reach out, alarmed by the notion because once before somebody had reached inside him and had touched his heart and it had been painful and horrifying. Once before somebody had been close to his soul and had ripped out half. His entire body tensed, fear pulsing along their bond and he felt Deaton hovering close by anxiously because the other man had no idea what was going on. He saw the magic hovering where the soul resided but to the emissary it shouldn't be a bad thing. Unless of course Stiles was messing with things he wasn't ready for.

The feather touch reached forward to ease the werewolf's fear, touching the soul in a caress, a light pat as if to say ‘It’s okay, I’ve got you’. It didn't do more, it was reassurance but it felt like... hope. And the touch of gold meeting his vulnerable soul, it was like a flick of light and warmth being added to the weakened spark within Derek. As if, for a moment, he was standing in the sun being warmed instantly. The strangled noise turned into a sob, gasped breathing while salty warm water trickled along his cheeks. They weren't even tears of sadness, more like a relief of... Derek couldn't describe what, it was so intimate and pure. It eased the way for taking the magic back because that wasn't as he had imagined he'd feel.

The younger man could feel it all through their connection and wide open bonds. How Derek was feeling. How moved he got from that experimental touch and it made his voice falter for a split second, getting thick with emotions too, but he was also happy that he could give this small bit of reassurance and hope to his mate. It was much more effective than any words could be and he was glad he did it.

Derek had thought he wouldn't feel much of it at all but it was like there were laces inside of him and Stiles was tugging them free. It wasn't painful, it wasn't pleasurable. Some of the tugs were rougher, like sharp jerks but he didn't feel emptier as he thought would happen, Stiles wasn't reaching close to the magic he needed to help him with the missing soul part.

A pressure was felt behind his eyes, settling at his forehead, making it harder to think. So he growled in warning because that particular thread Stiles was tugging on was one he needed, the ache easing up when it was released.

He felt more in tune with Derek than ever before and it was a very intense feeling. Not overwhelming, though. It felt... right and made everything easier. Everything was so much clearer to Stiles in those moments, so when he heard the warning growl, he knew why he got that and corrected himself, taking hold of another thread that... "offered" that portion of magic, as if it knew it was misplaced and wanted to go to its right place.

He had no idea how much time has passed since it seemed to stand still for the young emissary, but his focus and control stayed strong as he kept experimenting, searching for the right threads to touch upon. He was in no rush while doing so and soon he realized that his physical body felt warmer, the aching from his bones and joints slowly fading, the slight headache he's been sporting since he woke up gone, just like the fatigue as the taken back magic kept seeping into the pool inside of him, balancing them out more and more. He also felt more confident in what he was doing, because he was in full control now. He knew what to do and how to do it, he knew he wasn't hurting Derek like he feared he would.

As his cheeks got back their healthy color too, he slowed down, the whispering of the magic calming around him – which he suspected only he could hear. And when the last tendril of the amber energy slipped through the runes like a small ethereal snake, he knew he didn't need more, so he changed the words of his chanting to the last verse that would close and break their connection. It didn't take long and when it was done and the nearly burning heat of the rune tamed to a warm distant throbbing, he slowly exhaled and opened his eyes, giving himself a moment or two to reconnect with the outside world. It was like slowly coming back from a deep meditation. The mind needed that careful surfacing so it wouldn't get messed up. But as Stiles looked up with his sweaty face, he wasn't disoriented or dizzy.

"What?" he asked from both men staring at him as the amber roots were starting to fade from his arm, neck and chest.

To Derek it wasn't clear either how much time had passed, it could have been hours, it could have been fifteen minutes. It was hard to track the passing of time in this room, hard to keep track of anything when Stiles was doing his magic chanting. Their attention had been on what had been happening inwardly and besides some flashes of emotions coming from Deaton, nothing else had filtered through to the Hale.

There was no different feeling, a slight stiffness to his joints from the pulling which faded rather quickly the moment he shifted in the chair after the ritual was done. Stiles looked much healthier, no longer looking like he was recovering from dying but more like he had woken up from a restful nap. The dark bruises under the eyes were gone and he didn't look as pale anymore so Derek felt less like he was taking advantage of their bonds. Of course he didn't know how he himself looked but he felt fine so he wasn't worried about that, if there had been too much taken, Deaton would have spoken up.

But the vet was mostly quietly watching Stiles like he just witnessed a dead dog being revived on the table or something, even though he recovered from his shock quickly and that enigmatic smile had returned.

"Very good, it doesn't look like you will require much training in this area. You both have done well." And Derek couldn't help but detect some awe in those words, as if the druid was already calculating what else he could teach with all the potential he was facing in the room. The werewolf hadn't done much besides sitting there and letting his mate do what was needed, so he didn't react to the praising. Look at that, a grown man could sit in a chair, good job!

The rune on Derek’s arm was back to its scarred appearance but the fingers on his arm from Stiles had left dark imprints, bruises which didn't fade just yet. They would, most likely within an hour or so but for now he marveled at having them. The danger of the human suffering was over. That was why they had come here in the first place so he assumed they were done for the day. Reaching out, he touched his mate's cheek. "You look healthy again."

Stiles' cheeks were still slightly flushed and damp from the light sheen of sweat caused by the deep concentration and the complicated maneuver he had to do. He instinctively leaned into Derek's warm touch and smiled from the relief he saw reflecting on his face.

"I feel much better too," he agreed and lifted his hand to put it on Derek's on his cheek. "And you look... less 'too young'. Like your normal self. So I believe this was a success," he chuckled relieved and exhaled long and loud. "Dude, this was intense! And so deep..." he lowered his voice, unable to look away from Derek's eyes as the amber in his own dimmed into a shimmering glow in his irises. Of course, he meant that 'soul touching' part and he rubbed the back of the warm hand in understanding.

Going from looking like in his forties to looking like his early twenties had been a bit too much but looking like late twenties was more like it, considering that's where Derek was supposed to be. Somewhat. He didn't answer any of the words, only softly smiled in agreement to not looking so young anymore and that yes, it felt deep but not something he wanted to talk about in front of Deaton. No offense to the emissary but some things were private and soul touching was one of them since it didn't add anything to what the older man needed to know.

"Don't call me dude." Derek settled on that, briefly pressing their foreheads together. Stiles smiled from that, simply enjoying it for a long moment then pulled back to look at the vet.

"And... are you sure, Doc? I mean, I was just doing what felt right. I mean... it was as if the magic was guiding me too..." he said and as he lowered their hands, he didn't let Derek's go.

"That's the point, Stiles. For you to be in tune with your magic. It's like a symbiosis. It might not have a consciousness but it's a force of nature. Ancient and powerful. Druids have the strong ability to sync, to tune in with such powers and when they do, they can use that power for different purposes. What you just did for the first try, though... well, I have to admit that it was extraordinary for someone with so little training and experience like you," he hummed and picked up the two books from the examination table.

"Oh Doc, you'll make me blush..." Stiles chuckled, the usual quirky spark back in his tone and eyes. He did feel more energized and balanced. For a brief moment he wondered for how long? After all, Deaton had said that surges in his magic can happen any time, so it was probably impossible to tell when they were going to have to do this again.

Of course, the vet didn't react to that aside from a small lopsided smile before he held out the books for Stiles to take. "Here's your homework. One book is about what being an alpha's emissary can entail. The other is about mate bonds. I believe both of you will find useful information in these books."

The thirst for knowledge flashed up in Stiles' suddenly eager eyes and he took the books, finally letting Derek's hand go. "Finally something to rely on!"

"These books are old and far from covering all the possibilities, but yes, they are good starting points on your bonds and how to maintain them. Take tomorrow off to rest... and read," he paused watching Stiles already flipping eagerly through the pages in awe. "I'll see you on Tuesday evening. You both should be fine until then."

"Thanks, Doc," Stiles murmured while reading through random pages. For someone who loves research, this was like throwing candy. But he eventually caught himself and looked up. "Seriously. We both appreciate all the help we can get."

"Yes well, it wouldn't have been needed if the natural born werewolf had done his homework beforehand," the vet sassed and Derek was used to these remarks coming from the other.

It wasn't untrue, it wasn't a remark he hadn't earned and he wasn't going to make excuses for it. Instead he took the books from the human before he'd walk into something while reading them, giving a nod to Deaton as the beginning of acknowledgement. "Thank you." Simple and to the point, all the words he was going to exchange with Alan for the night because they had taken up enough time.

A day of rest and reading sounded good to him, it would give them time to talk to Noah, come up with a plan how to explain it to the mini-Hale as well. The expected tiredness wasn't there though, and he's relieved that he's not taking a sick-looking mate home. Stiles seemed to have the same feelings of energy he had so Derek looked at his watch for the time. It was nearly midnight so it looked like sleep was the most likely to happen soon because there was a little girl eager to see her daddy in the early morning.

Next part

Súgó Még nincs hozzászólás.

Új hozzászólás Frissítés