6: Truths and Training – part 3

The day had been spent playing with Elizabeth, potty training her, groceries... The usual things Derek had been doing since he had recovered enough to take care of his own daughter again. Nothing exciting and yet there was a calmness to it he hadn't had in a long time. It’s why he hadn't minded it. The toddler had grown in Hell and he had learned to cherish every moment he had with her. Only difference was, they now had the company of Stiles. The youngest Stilinski had officially taken leave of absence of work until he could talk about transferring or maybe joining his father as deputy. A job Derek had looked into months ago for himself but with his thick record, nothing like that would ever be available to him. Stiles loved to work, the challenges of cases, the rush of solving things, so Derek was going to be the one to stay with Beth until she was old enough to go to school.

They had an early dinner with Noah attending for a change because he was the one babysitting the little girl while Derek and Stiles were off to train the human for his emissary duties and spending the night at the loft. It was unsure which of them was the most reluctant to part ways with Elizabeth. Derek just didn't like the idea of not knowing when he was able to take care of her even though she was excited about the sleepovers and various adventures she was going to have with her babysitters.

They had decided to tell her that daddy needed to do some alpha business and nothing more so it wouldn't make her think that either Derek or Stiles was sick. Even though it meant they were going to be more at the loft than with her. Because Derek being sick would be too damaging for her, she was already crying and clingy each time her dad looked pale from lack of sleep.

Armed with the books and bags of clothes and food, they arrived at Deaton early evening because the man had to work even though it felt like he wasn't much of a vet in the past, too busy dealing with the supernatural.

"You two look well-rested," Alan greeted them as he closed and locked the door behind them. And that little smile of his told Derek that the older man knew exactly why they looked so well-rested so he flashed a grin with all teeth proudly. Yes, they had used their time off well.

"Now Derek, your part of the evening will be last since you'll be out of it if Stiles does his training this evening well. He’ll have gathered up enough magic to increase what you're used to."

The wolf nodded because he was fine with watching as the two druids worked. So he moved off to the side, hopping up on the metal table to get comfortable.

From Derek, Stiles looked at Deaton expectantly. It was clear that excitement was buzzing under his skin, making him unable to stand or sit still. "So what's on today's agenda, Doc?" he asked, drumming his fingers on the metal table close to the books.

A faint smile was playing in the corner of Deaton's mouth seeing the young emissary so eager. "First of all, we discuss the books. You can ask if you have questions regarding anything you two have read."

Stiles nodded and sat down on one of the stools, turning from side to side with it as he was thinking for a moment or two then started firing off the questions that came into mind. To some Deaton provided his usual vague and cryptic answers, to others he elaborated. There was also a particularly bugging question Stiles hesitated to ask for a while then he did it anyway.

"So... in the emissary book there's a whole philosophical chapter about how an emissary should stay impartial with the alpha and the pack they ties themselves to..." he paused, rubbing his smooth chin then drumming his fingertips against it.

"I think I know what you want to ask," Deaton seemed to have mercy on him, or he just simply wanted to move things along. "For a long time it was tradition that emissaries stayed neutral, a step away from the alpha and the pack. It was easier for them to maintain their neutrality. I was like that to the Hale pack too in the past. But as times have changed, some preferred to be closer to the pack, even live with them. In your case that's inevitable. Not just because you are mated too to the alpha, but because you've always had a strong link to Derek and his pack, no matter how big or small it was. It makes it thinking over a situation and giving advice without your emotions clouding your judgment harder," he explained and also smiled a bit. "But your personality and being is also a Spark with the most untamed and powerful kind of magic emissaries can have. I doubt it would've happened anyway."

To that Stiles snorted but nodded in acknowledgement. "I wouldn't be able to stay in the shadows like you do."

"No. But it's fine. You'll find the balance this way too. With practice. Which we have to start with now. Did you try any of the wards yet?"

"Yes. One that helps with control over my magic."

"Thought you might choose that at first. Did it work?"

"Yes. I could pull it back a bit faster and more securely after we... Yes, it helped," he shrugged, not going to feel embarrassed about being sexual with his mate. Deaton knew that about them anyway, so what'd be the point?

Derek had been relatively quiet. There hadn't been many questions about the books, not since Stiles asked a few of what he had been wondering about as well so he was content to let him do the talking with the vet. Listening and storing the information given. After that came the practice. Which was mostly basic spells involving a glass of water for the water element, feather for the air element, dirt for earth and of course, a flame for fire. The human was told to do little assignments with them, familiarize himself with harmless small spells to all the elements. Derek's face was unreadable but he didn't like it when Stiles was able to spark a flame in his own hand. Maybe Stiles realized it because he had turned his back on Derek, even though they had agreed that the wolf was going to learn to deal with it.

Easing him into it might be the best way, one day at a time. They had enough going on without Derek freaking out over a tiny little flame. Deaton did throw him a thoughtful look which he ignored for the sake of not wanting to talk about it and he was allowed not to – for now. They all knew it was going to be a thing soon because it was part of the training they were undergoing, it was needed to help Stiles control his magic.

The practice with the element-based exercises went smoothly enough since Stiles had dabbled in such basic magic manipulation before. Obviously it went the fastest with the fire element, which felt much easier for him because of the nature of his magic. Still, when he felt Derek's uneasy feelings, those bled into him too, knowing how much the wolf hated fire. It made him turn his back on Derek and he quickly put out the flame in his palm, that sensation of unease putting a damper on the pride he previously felt for being able to create that flame. He swallowed hard but didn't comment on it in favor of moving on.

"Now we're going to work with mountain ash,” Deaton announced. “You’ll need to learn how to make it as well as cast it. You will make a small batch and use it on Derek."

Now that got the wolf’s attention as he scowled at the vet. He hated mountain ash. To touch it felt like being hit with a wave of pure electricity and white hot fire and to be trapped within a circle was to constantly feel that energy thrumming. It was in a way draining even though it didn't harm, it repelled.

"Don't get it on me Stiles. You won't like what happens then." It sounded like a threat, because it was a threat in a way.

"Stiles needs to see what happens if it does, so he'll be careful wielding it and he'll know how to use it as protection. It's important for him, Derek."

"Don't sound so happy about it," the Hale grumbled as he sighed and nodded. If Stiles needed to do that, then they would do it. "Only if there's a way to get it off me easily. I don't want my healing botched for long."

"There is a spell for that." Which meant there was a way to get it off, but it wasn't making it clear if that spell was going to be used. Not many knew that mountain ash was so much more than just a barrier to keep supernaturals out. In a way it could be like mistletoe for werewolves. Like what happened to Gerard when he was filled with mountain ash at the time of the bite. It wasn't deadly like wolfsbane, it was however very damaging.

Derek's reaction to the next task with the mountain ash didn't help on Stiles’ feelings and confidence either. The "threat" made Stiles press his lips into a thin line and his whole being became more... careful as he mentally kinda pulled back. "I don't need to throw it on him. I know what it does to him. Remember? I threw the jar of mountain ash on the Anuk-ite. It encased it in a shell of mountain ash. I believe it would only differ a bit when thrown at a werewolf, wouldn't it?" Stiles asked, obviously trying to protect his mate from harm even in this controlled environment.

"True. You have experience with mountain ash. The Anuk-ite and also that successful circle you had completed around that club to trap Jackson. But the Anuk-ite was a special case. For other supernatural creatures the effect of throwing mountain ash at them can differ. In general it's a compulsive circle when used as a barrier around someone or something. Like a house for example, and you've seen wooden cases made specifically to keep supernaturals away from its contents. When in dust form it is thrown at for example, a wolf, the effects can be more offensive when you fuse your magic and intent with the ash."

"Like throwing a small bomb at them to push them back?" Stiles asked with a raised brow.

"Fundamentally. Yes."

"I refuse to hurt Derek like that. Are you crazy?" Stiles huffed, glaring at Deaton. The instinct to protect his mate getting stronger in him.

The vet paused and searched Stiles' eyes and seemed to accept something because he finally nodded. "It seems then that knowing the theoretical part that it can be done has to be enough with this. You can try it out when there's real danger. Your bond is already too strong even for the idea of hurting Derek. Good."

Was this a twisted test? Stiles didn't work himself up on it just visibly relaxed from not having to hurt Derek and let himself take a deep breath, exhaling it slowly to calm down his kinda "pissed off" or rather "offended" magic.

"It doesn't mean you don't have to learn how to make your own mountain ash and how to quickly draw a working barrier around you or something else," Deaton warned and moved to one of the cabinets to take out a bigger wooden case.

"Fair enough," Stiles mumbled and watched with curiosity as the man brought the case to the table and opened it. He could feel the by then familiar magical buzz of the rowan tree the case was made of. Once Deaton opened it, he saw small dead branches of the same kind of tree. "Are these from the Nemeton?" he asked, reaching out to let his hand hover over the branches. He heard whispering in the back of his mind, that strange tainted connection of his to the magical tree humming like static in him.

"Yes," the druid said quietly, his full attention on Stiles' reactions. "But you can feel that, am I right?"

"Yes. It's... unnerving," he admitted, the idea of touching the branches making his stomach knot with an uneasy feeling.

"These are some of the last branches of the Nemeton after it was cut down. Your tie to it is reacting to its closeness. It should be alright to touch and work with it," he said, handing a pair of latex gloves over. To Stiles' questioning look, as explanation the vet nodded towards Derek. "You don't want to accidentally get any on your mate later."

"Right..." Stiles mumbled and put the gloves on with two distinct snaps. Deaton meant that the ash could stick to his pores even after washing his hands. "You should also teach me that spell that can call back the ash. It will be good for recycling purposes too. Okay, what's next?"

Deaton chuckled low on that and nodded in agreement. "Alright. But first, you'll have to take a branch and grind it in a mortar. I'll guide you along the way how to add black salt and your fire magic and intent into the powder to make it work more effectively."

"Roger that..." Stiles said then carefully took a branch. Touching it through the latex made him feel... nothing in particular. Good to know. He should keep this bit of information for the future. "You said this is part of the Nemeton. What will you do when you run out of these branches?"

"Mountain ash can be produced with this method from any kind of rowan tree, not just a Nemeton. So as long as there are such trees around, there should be no problem in re-stocking your supplies. I wanted to work with these branches because the ash produced from it will be more powerful thanks to its source. Now... cut it up into smaller pieces and place them in the mortar. Then you'll have to make it burn into ash with your magic. That way it fuses with the ashes. The black salt comes afterwards to the mixture, along with a spell to work your intent to protect into the finished ash."

Stiles nodded that he understood, but swallowed hard again, knowing that he'd have to "expose" Derek to more fire. But maybe it was going to be okay just seeing a little flame from the other side of the room. Right? With a small sigh, he began working on cutting up the branch with a small handsaw, focusing hard to do everything right.

Mountain ash was good, it helped protect them as well, it had kept Melissa safe for many times for example, and it stopped many supernatural creatures. But to watch it being made from the branches of the Nemeton itself was unsettling in a way. Derek could touch the wood of rowan trees just fine, it was the ash that was the problem. For example, Stiles knew how to wield it and in principle the ash would act as repellent when thrown on somebody. But if an unknowing human would throw it, thinking it was sand, it could act that way and for a werewolf, getting it inside the body would create illness. Not death, but a serious weakness. Wood infused with mountain ash he'd be unable to touch, a bat with mountain ash could do damage, metal cuffs melted with mountain ash would be impossible to get out of. Most hunters used electricity and wolfsbane but they were getting more creative lately. Except for older hunters like the Argents and Winchesters. They stuck to what they knew.

The two druids worked well together, focused on their task so Derek had moved from the metal table to a chair in the corner, back to the wall. It was more comfortable, it made him feel less like a patient and since he was here to observe, he preferred doing that from a corner. It's how he watched and followed others, by sticking to the sidelines, blending into crowds, foliage and walls, hiding in shadows because he could see from a far distance. He was good at being silent, he could go without speech for days and not even Scott had picked up on him there. Then again, Scott hadn't been the most aware werewolf around. He'd notice Allison, Kira or Malia from miles away but not others because his nose and heart had always been focused on the one love of his life. It could have gotten better now that he was in LA living the life of college student and band member but he had also pulled away from his life as werewolf so...

They called, from time to time, Derek hassled him to be careful, Scott would accuse him of mothering and if they met up, Scott would drag Derek along on wolfsbane fueled drinking binges, smoking special weed, going to clubs and bars. To get Derek outside into the world. Or so Scott would always claim but Derek knew it was more to prevent real talk happening. Maybe with Stiles back, the true alpha was going to be more willing to talk to somebody.

While Derek was deep in thought about various topics, the other two were busy burning the wood. Stiles was shielding the flame as much as he could, keeping it small while Deaton frowned thoughtfully, throwing Derek looks from time to time. He wanted to say the flame was fine, to not worry about him. But Stiles could sense his emotions and he'd know it wasn't fine unless Derek would block him off and that was something he had promised not to do. So he gave a look to Deaton and stayed in his corner, forcing himself to watch the flame and not have negative feelings towards it.

Just a flame, right? Nothing special about it. It wasn't going to come to him and harm him. It wasn't going to burn the clinic down. It wasn't going to melt the pale mole-dotted skin. The scent of burning wood filled the room and he could almost hear the imaginary screams. He knew what his family had sounded like while they were dying. Peter had been so courteous to force his memories on Derek to remind him what he had done, to remind him revenge had been needed. He hadn't been able to sleep well for months after that, the haunted memories there each time he had closed his eyes.

So he stayed in his corner and gritted his teeth and told himself it was fine. Stiles was safe. Stiles was fire. He loved Stiles so he should love fire. It helped, a little. But he was still glad when it was done, when Stiles had spelled his own pile of ash, combining the salt molecules with the ash to create the familiar black hard little grains. Right, time for him to play big bad wolf so Stiles would be able to either trap Derek or himself in a circle.

Stiles had to close out the struggle he could feel from Derek through the bond and also had to remind himself not to close off, that it was a small step for his mate to get used to the fiery nature of his magic. Small steps. Baby steps. It was good for Derek. It was like a mantra he kept repeating to himself while he divided his attention between creating his first batch of mountain ash and that mantra. It wasn't a complicated process, but it was a basic one for sure.

While finishing up the process, he thought about talking with Derek regarding the remodeling of the loft. He'd need a workshop of his own where he could safely lock up his stash of herbs, books, magical concoctions and items he was going to use in the future as emissary. Perhaps one of the upstairs rooms where the spiral staircase leads would be fitting to be turned into his private space. It was better thinking about that than letting Derek's feelings get a better of him and mess up his concentration.

The Hale stood and cracked his neck, rolling his head to let the transformation wash over him. His eyes flared red and he charged at his mate.

The tingling at the back of Stiles’ neck made the fine hairs stand on end and he lifted his head, gloved hand digging into the ash. He sensed it first. The nearly magical shift in the air around Derek. The barely there slight pull through their bonds. By the time there was movement from the corner where Derek had retreated earlier, Stiles was spinning around on his heel and without thinking threw the ash in the air above his head. His speed surprisingly matched the wolf's and the ash formed a circle around him and Deaton on the floor just before his mate could reach him with a clawed hand.

Stiles' expression was part surprised, part serious, the amber glowing lightly in his irises as he met the red alpha eyes from close, but still separated by an invisible wall.

"Very good. You are quicker and react instinctively. Not overthinking it is key. You have to feel the magic, you have to know you can do it. There's no problem with the amount of intent you seem to put into your actions and spells," Deaton said while Stiles was still staring into the red eyes, unmoving like frozen in the moment.

It was the very reason why Derek hadn't given a warning, because then Stiles would overthink it, worry about hurting the wolf. Deep down he'd know not to harm him. Derek had complete faith in that instinct and it's why he had charged full on without holding back. The worst that would have happened was Derek grabbing his mate by the shirt in warning but that didn't happen. His clawed hand met with a barrier zinging along his skin and he pulled it back immediately with a grunt at the pain it caused. The alpha smirked at Stiles with approval, dipping his head in a nod of respect. It had worked perfectly. Not that he had doubted it. The beta shift retreated and the red eyes faded back to their green.

Stiles allowed himself a small proud smile for being able to perform the barrier then he lightly frowned down at Derek's hand. He could not just see but also feel when it made contact with the barrier. Probably because his own magic was fused into the ash, keeping it connected to him. Plus the mate bond. Of course he knew that the pain his mate felt was small compared to the amount he had endured before, but it still felt wrong that he had hurt him this way.

"You could have trapped Derek, risked harming him if the circle was small. Yet you didn't, you chose the least harmful way on instinct. Very good," Deaton complimented the young Spark, pleased with what he was seeing. The raw talent was there, and it was working smoother than he had anticipated, most likely as a result to the bonds with the Hale alpha. It gave him strength and more control. With a wave of his hand, the vet broke the circle so he could show the spell needed to recall the mountain ash. "It is best to write down the spells you need, you will remember them in time and I'm sure young Derek here knows them by heart but he will not always be around."

Derek nodded in agreement because yes, his memory worked well but he didn't want Stiles to depend on him with this as well, it was too dangerous. Alan slid the book over to the younger human to show the spell while the werewolf took a few steps back.

Stiles was pulled out of his thoughts by Deaton's compliment. His old self would've probably let it go to his head and chirp about how awesome this was, but the present day Stiles just simply nodded and watched the vet break the circle while listening to him. Without a word he went to his bag to fish out a leather-bound black book and undid the clasp on it.

"I know. Like a grimoire for witches where they write down their spells," he nodded in understanding and pulled the pen out of his book's inside holder. "I've already started one for useful spells and my notes."

"You are full of surprises, Mr. Stilinski..." Deaton smiled approvingly, in turn earning a smug little grin from Stiles as he leaned over the book to study the spell that could call back the shattered mountain ash.

"You're going to trap me this time,” Derek chimed in. “You druids all make the same mistake: protecting yourselves instead of trapping the threat. What if they decide to patiently wait because you can't go anywhere, or they decide to throw weapons?"

The druids were not used to being warriors and fighters, so of course the initial instinct was to defend and to trap another was a form of attack. But it was needed in battle and if possible to get away by throwing the mountain ash at the enemy, then that should be the first move.

Derek's voice made him look up at his mate, though. "Hey, I didn't trap you because I didn't want to hurt you. But otherwise the main role of an emissary is to protect the alpha and the pack, not go offensive. You have a point though and you know me enough that I have training I can use besides magic," he grinned, meaning the weapon concealed by Derek's looser shirt by the small of Stiles' back. He would be an idiot to run around Beacon Hills unarmed. The only exception was when they took Beth to the store and the playground. He felt a bit uncomfortable carrying a gun around a toddler, but he guessed he was going to have to get used to the idea because they were going to live together.

The mention of the gun made Derek shrug because sure, it was one way to defend himself but it wasn't needed if he used his magic right. Why trap himself to use bullets if he could trap others and get away? It made no sense to Derek that Stiles would focus on protecting him if he could protect all with a reverse way of the spell, as Deaton had said, they weren't the typical Alpha and emissary pair.

"You protect yourself before you protect me, because I'm alpha werewolf and you're human. If you die, I die. And that's not something I want to negotiate on."

It wasn't that Derek considered Stiles weak, but it was a fact Derek would heal faster from things Stiles would die of and Derek would be unable to fight well if he had to worry about protecting his mate as well so he was adamant Stiles would train himself. At least he didn't fight it, he pointed out that he had a gun but he wasn't unwilling to do the spell the other way around.

"True that. Now let me study this spell before I trap your gorgeous ass in a circle," he winked at Derek, amused from the face and Deaton's small sigh that he got in exchange. The spell itself wasn't a complicated one and he quickly understood how it worked. The few ancient druid words basically activated the magic fused into the ash and pulled the particles back to the druid by that. Like a magnet.

It didn't take long for him to finish copying the text and drawings and once he was done, he closed his leather notebook and stood with a fistful of ash already in hand. He winked at Deaton then turned to Derek, taking up a defensive position. "Alright, my big bad wolf. Let's see what you've got..." he gave his mate a lopsided smirk.

Waiting patiently with his arms crossed until Stiles was done recalling the mountain ash, amused at the defensive position the human took, armed only with a handful of ash, which seemed deceivingly harmless but the Hale knew better. He didn't bother shifting because that's what was expected. Instead he jumped into the air, intending to pounce.

Stiles didn’t expect that, that was clear with the way his eyes widened and took a step back. It was a good move, giving himself more room to throw the ash because it wasn't as easy to trap a werewolf in the air. Stiles could handle it though, he was used to handling the ash and had practice in both magic and in being attacked with his detective training. It showed with the way he reached for his gun, hand wanting to go behind his back to get it but since his hand was clasped in a fist, or perhaps remembering it was Derek in time, he didn't get the gun out, he used what he was supposed to use.

The ash was thrown, not against Derek's body but above it and it fell in a circle on the floor, but since Stiles had to anticipate his landing, it failed to grab the alpha and Derek pounced on his mate with a laugh, arm wrapped around Stiles to keep him from hitting the floor. There was that stupid romantic moment in films where they were grinning at one another like idiots as time ticked on and Deaton sighed, loudly.

"Let's try that again, shall we?" he demanded in a not so subtle way to break up the lovebirds. Derek obeyed, with a chuckle, releasing Stiles as the human called his ash back.

He repeated the move, so his mate would learn how to use the ash on an enemy pouncing from the air. This time, Stiles seemed to realize to focus on stepping away fast enough to anticipate the landing, letting the ashes whirl around on the floor to form a circle. It was a small circle, too small for the werewolf to pull back so instead of landing gracefully, it was more of a crash landing as he attempted not to hit the invisible wall, only to stumble fully into it with his back. It pushed him forwards, so he hit the other side too and he ended up on his knees, breathing heavily because that hurt. Everything was pins and needles.

"Maybe a bigger circle next time." Deaton suggested with a somewhat amused expression and Derek raised his eyes to look at them.

"You think?!"

Derek's words about protecting himself first were rattling in Stiles' mind as he grinned at his trapped mate. He was right, of course, that's why he didn't protest. The young emissary let that sink in then broke the barrier with a flick of his wrist, his other hand calling the ash back as he murmured the ancient words. This time he made sure to gather it in his left palm so he let his shooting hand free. It was a rookie mistake he had noticed the first time he automatically reached for his gun. From now on he will keep this small but very important detail in mind too.

Stepping to Derek, he leaned down offering a hand to pull him up. "Sorry about the small circle. Let's try this again. You have to admit that aside from the pain this is kinda fun. We should add this kind of physical training to our schedule too," he suggested with a wink then let Derek's hand go, tipping his head up and retreating further from the table to put more distance between them.

Usually with training, Derek was the one kicking ass and then when he ended up fighting for real, he got his ass handed to him, so this was new for him. Not that he minded to have Stiles use him as proverbial punching bag. The more they did this, the easier it would be for the human until it was something he could do with ease, like breathing. It had been the reason why Derek had been so hard on his betas in the past, because back then there hadn't been time to let them ease into it, danger was around them and they had to learn in a crash course. Training Stiles to learn to defend himself against supernaturals combined with his magic wasn't needed to be rushed, so far there hadn't been a threat. But Stiles was thinking of a whole other kind of training and he snorted at that, ducking his head.

The snort from Deaton told them that he caught Stiles' drift. He was probably going to get fed up with the hints of their sexual life and such, but Stiles didn't care. Serves him right for withholding things from them for years.

Stiles' eyes shone up, amber meeting red as he kept them on his opponent. Adrenaline was pumping in his veins, making his senses sharper, more sensitive to every move his mate did. This time too he was expecting the jump. It always fascinated him how graceful Derek could look doing it and how far he could jump. But now he didn't let it distract him. He stepped back and threw the ash in the right moment, willing it into a circle – a bigger one this time – around the area the alpha was going to land on. Stiles grinned at him both with satisfaction and happiness because he felt he got a grasp of it now.

"Perfect. I'd also recommend regular training with your mate too. It helps you two work as a team or rather one unit easier on the field and in face of danger," Deaton walked closer, examining the barrier with closing a hand to it. "It should come as naturally like the muscle memory that activated for you Stiles when he pounced the first time. You both can exploit that instinct in battle too," he added. "Your barrier is stronger than the average and not just because of the Nemeton's ash," he murmured satisfied then walked back behind the table.

Stiles nodded and broke the circle to free Derek and call back the ash again. He dumped it back into the mortar and watched Deaton start to pour it into a flat transparent plastic bottle.

"You should keep this on you at all times. The plastic is enchanted not to get deformed or break and it will also contain the scent of the ash so it can stay hidden until you pull it out," he explained and handed the flask-sized container to Stiles once he was ready.

"That's a clever trick," he nodded in appreciation and as a 'thanks' too.

The only answer was another small calm smile to that. "Alright. I think we should enter the last act of the night. Are you ready, Derek?" the vet gave the wolf a pointed look, of course asking if he was ready to start working on his resistance against Stiles' magic.

Attempting to remain serious because Stiles kept sending him cheeky looks, the werewolf nodded to Deaton that yes, he was ready to do this. They were prepared for it, the loft was ready for them and Stiles knew what to expect dealing with a high Derek so might as well get it over with. For him, it was going to be a wild ride. Stiles was the one having to deal with him but maybe it wasn't so bad this time, considering he had his share of magic yesterday too.

Rolling up his sleeve to uncover the rune for Stiles to use, Derek didn't bother putting chairs together because he thought they should do it sitting down on the floor to prevent one of them toppling over. The vet pointedly slid another spell for Stiles to write down in his new book. It looked like it was going to fill up quickly.

"You might feel a backlash from this as well, Stiles, we need to increase your magic in order to give more to Derek. That's what this spell does and we're only using it for training. We're only expanding Derek's ability to channel your magic in case you do gather too much, to limit the risk for you both. At some point you will both transfer it easily with a clasp of the arms."

Which made sense to Derek because this was all in case of having to fight, to be prepared should it happen. To not get caught with their pants down and die for their arrogance of not training. The more he was able to take, the more Stiles would be able to draw from him in case of a large spell which would exhaust the human. He had tried that once with wolfsbane, attempting to take small dosages and increase it to build up a resistance. But he had to stop that because there was never enough time for it, never had the time to be weak. He was willing to be weak for Stiles because it was only temporary.

The detective nodded and looked at the spell being shown to him while flipping his own notebook open on the table. Humming under his nose, Stiles' brown eyes were moving fast on the lines, a light frown appearing on his face. "You want me to unlock more of my awakening magic? Is it wise to meddle with that? I mean... you said I would probably experience such surges in the future anyway, but..." he cut himself off. That reaction showed the other two that caution was another thing that became a bigger part of his life. He wasn't so reckless like as a teen when he sometimes ran into situations head first and then improvised, thanking his lucky star for often helping him out in the last minute. Now he was more level-headed when it came to serious situations and he could thank a lot for his combat training in that.

"It is inevitable," Deaton nodded calmly, watching the new emissary's reactions. "To experience such a sudden surge for the first time, it is better to do so in a controlled environment with help around," he waved a hand towards himself. "I'll step in if something goes sideways, but I have faith in the ability of you two. You, Stiles, have shown surprisingly quick progress when dealing with your magic. You've endured nearly a week of separation pain. You both have read it that the separated new mates' emissary usually doesn't last that long. But you are a Spark. And most of all, you are also you," the vet smiled nearly fondly at Stiles at that point.

"An irritating, stubborn and hyperactive idiot?" Stiles humored him, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I wouldn't use those words. I meant that your natural tendency to size up a situation and quickly act upon it with your full focus will guide you with your magic too. You feel what's right and wrong. Let your magic show the way, but keep it reined in. Remember that you are the vessel, the wielder, let it flow through you, fill you. If you resist such surges, it's more damaging to you both mentally and physically. Let your body accept as much as it can and slowly channel the excess magic to Derek. Like when you balanced you two out the other night."

"I think I get it what you mean," Stiles finally nodded then looked back at the book for a long moment before he began copying the spell into his own, quickly memorizing the words. Once he was done, he pushed up the sleeve of his borrowed shirt to the elbow to bare his marked forearm then joined Derek on the ground, sitting opposite him.

"Connect to him before you use the other spell," Deaton warned, earning a snort from Stiles which sounded suspiciously like a 'DUH!'.

"I'll try to be gentle," the youngest man said with a dirty smirk to Derek as he clasped his hand on the wolf's forearm and began the usual chant to open up that channel between them. The runes warmed up on their skins, but aside from some magic lazily trickling through the link, nothing else happened.

Satisfied, Stiles then took a deep breath and cleared his mind, closing his eyes to recall the Gaelic words of the spell. He was never sure if he pronounced them right, but the intention was what counted. (Also, the fact that they were written down phonetically in Deaton's book helped too.)

He turned his focus on the inside, searching for the Spark within. It wasn't hard to find it anymore since it has grown significantly and because he's been using it a lot lately. Once he "saw" the amber fiery mist with his inner-eye, his lips automatically formed the words, the urge to say them out loud building in him. At first it just made the Spark flicker and pulse, the golden mist stretch out, beginning to swirl. Then he pictured unlocking and breaking down one of the invisible barriers between him and the Spark as he kept uttering the words faster and a bit louder, command bleeding into his voice.

Its effect was nearly immediate. The Spark got brighter, pulsing faster and it suddenly grew upwards like a flame before expanding and drawing in magic from their surroundings. It warmed Stiles' body up and he could feel it growing, sizzling, boiling under his skin, painting his veins amber, his head snapping upwards as his spine tensed, straightened, eyes glowing bright, his magic – like a second aura – expanding around him like an explosion, filling half of the room just to pull back somewhat and swirl around him like a whirlwind, making his hair and clothes move as if they were blown by a breeze. It didn't hurt, it was more of a dizzying warm feeling, like when alcohol suddenly kicks in. It made him drunk and high on magic. Making him want more.

This had to be like watching a tornado form right in front of you and you know there is no way to run it off, it is going to swipe you off your feet and swallow you whole. That's what it felt like for Derek to watch his mate right in front of him gathering up his magic and adding more. Where was the more even coming from? Has that been hiding deep inside? Just how much was in there? A whole lot it seemed. It reminded him of one of those X-Men films, watching a mutant power up. It was beautiful and it awed him to feel the air go static with magic, air being sucked up as it took up all the space it could get.

Stiles looked happy, looked completely overwhelmed in a good way and Derek knew how it felt. If it was making the druid feel like that, then yeah, he was about to get slammed, hammered, high. It somewhat worried him that he wasn't even slightly afraid. What if he was going to get used to the fix? What if he was going to crave it? He should be afraid of that at least. But no, there wasn't even an inkling of worry because he knew neither Stiles nor the magic would harm him like that. It wouldn't damage him for longer than momentarily.

His green eyes glanced at Deaton who was off to the sidelines, watching and observing the way Stiles had a practiced grip on the werewolf’s raised arm, the way the runes were glowing brightly in preparation. The electric static in the air rose to a crescendo, stealing Derek's breath away in warning, hearing the familiar words of the chant to siphon some of the magic to him. His arm was warming up as the golden veins flared up, gradually trickling higher to spread in a crackling static. It pulsed, like boiling water being pumped through him along with his blood, to his heart, to his head, spreading and exploring. His body swayed, the human's tight grasp didn't let up because they weren't done yet. Stiles was still attempting to spread out the magic between them, but Derek was a goner at that point.

His entire body was alight with golden red lava, pulsing and swirling and heating him up in a rush of pure headiness. Head thrown back, body sweaty, he felt like he was drifting at sea, kept floating by invisible hands in a sea of warm nothing. And then... a rush of more, eyes going from green to that ember again, their bodies a mirrored mass of golden veins. If they were to explode, he'd be fine with that, explode in a rain of starry magic and forever light in the darkness of the sky.

Getting lost in that high was easy. Remembering his task took effort when all his senses were heightened and on fire. Stiles felt like his whole being was on fire, but that wasn't really the case. But he slowly remembered Deaton's advice and let the magic accumulate then flow through him, pushing at the limits of what his body could take. When he reached that point when he felt like bursting, exploding like an overfilled water balloon, the words slowly changed into the chant that was – for now – needed to be said out loud to channel the excess magic.

Despite the fact that he was focused on them, he could feel the druid in the other side of the room relax from that change, the shift in the magic-filled and ozone smelling air. Stiles could feel it in his every pore too. The shift between the two spells slowed down the gathering of the magic until it stopped and waited, pushed and pressed against his physical form. It was starting to get more than unpleasant, but before it could turn into pain, Stiles showed the way to his open connection with Derek, pushing it towards the rune on his forearm. The magic ran along his arm like a race horse, wanting to gallop and jump right into Derek.

Pull in the reins! Stay in control!

He focused on that, but didn't try to overdo or overthink it, just got a firmer grip on it, slowing it down. After all, he promised Derek he was going to be gentle. Or at least as gentle as he can be. So instead of letting his magic slam into his mate, it rushed through their arms and kept filling him steadily before it toppled over once when Stiles' control faltered for a second. His brightly glowing eyes were on his mate by then, lips mumbling the chant as he reached out with his free hand. He slid closer to Derek without noticing it and slid his fingers onto his nape to pull him closer and press their foreheads together. He kept Derek there, closing his glowing eyes and not stopping the chanting.

Slow down. Don’t overdo it.

As an idea swam across his dazed mind, Stiles altered the lines of the chant, working in the ward that helped him tame and close up his magic earlier. He never tried to combine spells like this before, but he was confident he was going to be able to do it.

It didn't take long for it to take effect, making the mass of magic slow down, some of it reverting, like a disturbed current, to flow back into him. His chest and body still felt a bit too tight for the new amount, but it was pulling back towards his center nonetheless, his Spark melting it inside, storing it. It felt as if his body made more room for it. It was still a tight fit which would take some time to get used to, but he managed to mostly balance it out then slowly break the rune connection between them.

Breathing heavily, Derek was barely aware of the sharing stopping since he was overflowing on magic himself and it was going to need time to settle and be something in the background, stored. Something Stiles could take if he needed the extra boost but for now it roamed inside of him freely, making him feel high and drunk at the same time. He knew Stiles was there, he could feel them close but it was all swirling in colors and sounds and it all didn't make much sense.

He opened his eyes, only to have them widen when he realized they had their foreheads pressed together and Stiles was way closer than he thought. There was no need to ask him how he was doing, if anything, that big wide smile that bloomed on his face was answer in itself and his pupils were blown wide.

"Hi," the werewolf crooned happily, wanting to pat Stiles' cheek but he was uncoordinated and he ended up patting an ear instead. "You smell so good." It was obscene, the way he pressed his face against the pale neck of his mate and took a long inhale before he licked it. Simply ran it along the salty skin with a happy sigh. "You taste so good."

Deaton cleared his throat, he had seen Derek in many situations like bleeding out on his table, poisoned, tortured, turned into a teenager. But to see him so drugged up was almost too intimate because the Hale usually wasn't so openly affectionate or smiled like the sun was shining out of Stiles' skin. Clearly the increase of magic had its affect as they had anticipated, it was why he was so adamant they would do it now. It would strengthen the bonds between the two but it made them also prepared for when it was needed. It was better for Derek to be high for a couple of weeks when there was no danger, than to have to experience it in battle and be useless.

"Stiles, how are you feeling?" For a moment the druid had been worried that the magic was going to do harm, it was a lot that had been released all at once and Stiles wasn't used to it either.

Stiles wasn't completely sober either, but he was focused enough to be able to think clearly as he giggled on Derek's behavior and the lick that raised goose bumps on his skin. "I'm happy to hear you enjoy me," he grinned from ear-to-ear, putting an arm around Derek's broad shoulders protectively and to give the relaxed body some support if he needed it. "Just don't melt into a puddle from me," he added, gently rubbing the high alpha's back before turning his head to look at Deaton.

"Like my meat suit is a size or two smaller, but I think it'll be fine once it settles," he said truthfully. "I'll take back a bit from him once that happens to tip the balance back," he promised.

To that the druid nodded. "Good thinking. You're going to be good at this," he mused, clearly impressed, which was a rare look on the usually calm and collected man. "I didn't expect you to combine the spells."

"Seemed like a good idea. I felt that they were compatible and that it was going to work," Stiles shrugged, gently caressing Derek's nape, an automatic grounding motion for both of them.

Deaton nodded in acknowledgement then turned around to go to the cabinet with the books, picking out a couple more. Without a word he put them on the metal table then started packing away the things they have used during the night. "I believe you both are in need for some rest. You two worked hard today, we made good progress. I'll see you tomorrow night after I closed up the clinic."

Stiles took that as the dismissal it was and nodded, starting to help Derek up from the floor. "Alright and thanks, Doc. It was... intense," he grinned before taking his bag into which the vet so helpfully packed away his things and books to read.

"It won't get less intense, I can promise you at least that. We still have a lot to do. Read these at your own pace. These are more for you. Write down your notes and questions and we can go through them. Are you fit to drive?"

"Will do and yes, I'm fine. Drove in worse condition before," he smirked and put the bag on his free shoulder, his other arm tightening around Derek's waist as Stiles reached into the very affectionate wolf's front packet for the Camaro's keys. "Come on, my big bad wolf, it's time to go. Say goodbye to the Doc," he chuckled, already heading towards the door with his mate.

"Bye, Doc," Derek chimed with an enthused wave to Deaton, pushing his hip against that of Stiles’ when the human was busy searching his front pocket for his keys. If he had been sober, he would have protested at the ease in which the other was willing to drive the Camaro, especially when he was clearly affected by all the magic as well. But at the moment he's got his arm slung around his mate and walking seemed to be the biggest chore of the evening. Why was everything tilting so much? Was the ground even horizontal anymore?

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