10: Whole Again – Part 3

Meanwhile Stiles took the elevator downstairs, the warm smile he sent to Derek for his choice slowly melting off his face. He sagged against the wall with his back and took a few deep and slow breaths, forcing himself to exhale slowly while his hands curled into fists against the cool metal, blinking rapidly against the burning in his eyes for a few long moments.

Have to stay strong.

By the time he opened the elevator door, he more or less pulled himself together and walked past their cars to meet the other druid on the other side of the door. He wasn't sure if she didn't get through his wards out of politeness or if she wasn't able to. They were tied to Stiles' magic, so with that they might give some difficulty even for other druids to get through.

"Morrell," Stiles nodded to the woman, who was sizing him up with a strange look in her eyes. The even stranger vibes around her were of course there too. Some things never change. "It's been a while. Thank you for coming on such short notice."

"Stiles," she greeted him on her usual calm and mysterious tone. "My brother wasn't exaggerating about you," she continued but sounded like she said that more to herself than him. The brown eyes weren't focused on Stiles' gaze. It was as if she was looking past his physical form.

"Oh?"

"You and your Spark have grown strong. And are far from being done," she said as if it was the most natural thing to say.

"Oh!" Stiles replied very cleverly as he shrugged and placed a hand on the runes carved into the entrance. The magic in them reacted to him, making his palm and irises glow a bit. "You may enter."

"Thank you," she answered as she stepped inside, most likely sensing his magic but if she did, she didn't say much about it. He knew he was strong, she didn't need to comment on it because she knew that wasn't why she was here. Marin held her bag with two hands as she glanced around the empty downstairs before her attention went to Stiles, well-aware there that was a werewolf upstairs but they were many floors down with concrete between them. Derek couldn't hear them here.

"Alan told me about what you two did. How are you doing?" As therapist she had seen Derek a few times months ago, and she had done some reading since then because as druid, she felt like she had to be prepared for situations, such as souls getting back from Hell, something that hadn't been part of her knowledge before the Hale had asked for her help. "From what I've read, Derek would be better off admitted, which I'm guessing I'm right with, seeing how devastated you look. Have you considered it?"

"Out of the question!" Stiles snapped, quickly getting outraged even from the idea. The unsettled magic immediately reacted to that, making small sparks flash up around in the air with sizzling sounds – a bit like electric charges going off. "I won't let anyone lock Derek up in that horrible Eichen House! That place is more torture and triggering than healing," he scoffed, clenching and opening his hands a few times by his side and then forced his anger back down and tightened his control over his magic as much as he was able to currently.

"I'm sorry. It's been... a difficult few weeks. Especially since yesterday," he rubbed his forehead and sighed. He wasn't surprised by the observing look and silence in return. "Also... I think you can see that things aren't all kittens and rainbows at the moment. But I'll manage. I didn't call you here for me. It's Derek I'm worried about. Understandingly he is in a very bad mental shape. PTSD and hallucinations and confusion from the jumbled up memories. The returned part of his soul has an amount of decades long memories filled with torture and pain, mostly suppressing his other part's memories..." he said quietly, knowing that she needed some information to assess the situation before they'd head upstairs.

He was kinda grateful for Morrell that she didn't start firing off some very wise-sounding advice-like cryptic shit for now. It helped him continue.

"As I saw, he has the most struggles with not knowing what's real or not. He doesn't seem to be able to feel safe at all and prefers pulling back into corners where he isn't so exposed. I don't blame him, though. I understand a bit of what he's going through right now. But... I'm no professional and don't know how to make things easier for him. So that's where you come in."

She didn't say anything about his uncontrolled outrage at her suggestion, nor of him insulting Eichen house. In the end it wasn't her choice to make, it was theirs until Derek would prove to be a danger. An alpha roaming free without having a sane mind, well, Peter Hale had proven just how damaging that could be. And in the end, Stiles, legally, had no say over what would happen to Derek if there had to be certain tough calls to be made. Cora was the only relative left, she had the legal say in this, not Stiles. Something she wisely didn't point out. Instead Marin accepted the apology about the difficult weeks with a head nod.

"Those souls who have returned from Hell, they all have been suffering from hallucinations, especially in the first few weeks because of the lingering energy of the realm clinging to them so in a way he's still seeing Hell. The body and soul have been out of touch, the brain was not made to handle such increase in memories in such a fast time, not to mention the kind of memories. He's a survivor of brutal imprisonment and that's how we need to treat him. Find his triggers and minimize them until he can handle them. Talk him through his hallucinations, which I will teach you how."

The dark-haired woman wanted to see him, of course. It would give her an easier knowledge what they were working with so she walked over to the elevator, pausing there.

"Last time he returned from Hell, he gained certain… gifts, if you want to call them that. He is able to see beings for what they are, seeing the wings of angels for example when he shouldn't be able to. There could be more now but since so few have lived for long after their return from Hell, it's not clear what it all can be. Has he told you anything about what happened to him yet?"

Stiles followed her to the elevator with a deep frown, nodding along the way a few times. "Makes sense. It's a bit similar – just much, much worse – than what I went through with the Void and being erased from everyone's memory and kept in that 'waiting room' dimension. Coming back from that to reality was... let's say, very confusing. To put it mildly. Derek’s situation is much more severe, though. He acts like someone who was conditioned to be much more submissive than he usually is. He feels so... terrified and lost. I can feel it even now," he murmured as he handled the door and the buttons and the elevator started moving with them.

"Sudden movements, touches and loud noises are definitely triggers. Also the hallucinations. Like seeing blood everywhere. Seeing me as a corpse and so on. He didn't tell me everything he sees, but I believe it's plenty and horrible," Stiles summed up what he knew so far. "He didn't tell me much. But I know his toes were cut off and kept away from him and that ruts were forced on him monthly just to be left there suffering and clawing at himself..." he swallowed hard and paused to take a few deep breaths. "He's even more... closed up and silent than usual. But through our bonds I've got flashes of some nasty tortures his soul had received there. They'll definitely go to my nightmare-inducing memories, that's for sure," he chuckled dryly, staring at the opposite wall.

"But I want you to know that any help you can give me to handle this here will be appreciated. And name your price, I'll settle it with you later. I warded everything off with runes and mountain ash like when he was in heat. Also... my presence seems to be more or less okay for him. I or my touches – when I announce what I'm going to do – haven't triggered him yet."

"You don't know what he has experienced, werewolves do not belong in Hell, Stiles. It could be he requires you to be more dominant to cope, it could trigger. You must tread lightly," she warned as the elevator creaked and groaned on its way up to the highest floor of the building. Marin's face was unreadable as usual, not even looking curious or upset at the information given to her. Derek was her patient, he was the one alpha left in Beacon Hills now with Scott in LA. One with ties to the Nemeton, which made it all the more important to have him healthy enough.

There was no denying that Stiles was in need of aid just as much. He was the one experiencing it as well, not as much as Derek had but to his claim that she was here only for Derek was a false one, he needed some attention as well. Once he would allow her to, because his worry for his mate was preventing him at the moment.

"I have no price to name, a feral alpha tied to the Nemeton... it's in all our best interest to help him." The small little smile on her face told the human that there might be a price someday, but not any day soon.

"Did you know Derek has been mute after the fire? He hadn't spoken a word until well into eighteen. It was his way to cope, his way of communicating might be something we don't immediately pick up on." The druid got a book out of her bag to hand over to Stiles, the cover revealed nothing, it was blank leather. "This is a study on werewolves and their body language. Born ones such as Derek don't need their words. It might help should he regress to not speaking at all." It should always help with Derek, it did for her when she was helping him cope months ago.

"No, I didn't know he was mute for so long..." Stiles looked a bit surprised as he processed that information and took the offered book with a grateful expression. His fingers and the researcher in him itched to open it and start reading it right away, but he stopped himself from doing so. They had more pressing matters. He could feel Derek's fear and discomfort from upstairs. Stronger with each level they were getting closer to the broken alpha. So the young man simply sighed and held the book to his stomach, thanking Marin.

The elevator reached the loft and she waited for Stiles to open the door, following after him. Stiles quietly led the other druid, which only showed the depth of his worries and the seriousness of the situation. He wanted to let her do her own magic with words and all that her therapy might include.

Derek was barely visible, hidden away in a corner near the bed, curled in on himself Seeing Derek like that though... hiding in that corner was heartbreaking for Stiles all over.

"Hello Derek. Do you remember me? Stiles said you agreed to see me."

There was a barely there nod but the fact she was acknowledged and he could understand her words was promising. However when she got closer, he growled low in warning and pressed even more into the corner even though that was impossible, attempting to make himself look small instead of posturing an attack. Fear, submissive and yet not showing throat to her.

Stiles put the book down on the bed then stepped next to Morrell, holding up a hand with a gentle gesture to stay where she was.

Then he pressed his back against the wall and slid down onto the floor between the wolf and the druid, stretching out his long legs, crossed by the ankle. Stiles let his hands rest on his thighs and turned his head towards Derek. He was like a natural protective barrier between the two. For both's sake. This way he could call up his magic in any moment either to keep Derek back from attacking or Marin from getting uncomfortably close to his mate. Stiles made it look casual, though.

"It's okay, Derek. She won't get closer. You're safe," he murmured on a reassuring, calm tone. Now his fingers were burning to touch the wolf's warm skin for some more grounding, but he knew his mate needed some space at the moment to keep himself under control.

"I will stay right here, Derek," Marin said and put her bag down on the floor before she sat down next to it cross-legged, brown eyes never leaving the cowering wolf's form. She was clearly studying him to decide what kind of approach she should take with her patient.

Only when Stiles put himself between Marin and Derek did the werewolf lift his head to wearily eye the newcomer. It was brief and calculating before his gaze went down again. But they all knew this had been a threat-assessment and they were skating on very thin ice with the tortured predator. It didn't seem to faze the older druid, she calmly remained where she had seated herself, not coming closer but also not moving back either.

"Stiles tells me you have hallucinations, do you have them all the time?" she started and it got her a nod. "Do you know what is real?"

A shake of the head.

"Can you tell me who had you in Hell? I only need a name, no details." There was hesitation which she sensed. "It's okay, take your time. I know most souls are assigned to certain demons and it would help me to know, so I can help you better."

It took minutes, it almost seemed as if there wouldn't be an answer at all until Derek ducked his head more and he whispered so softly they wouldn't have heard if it hadn't been so quiet in the loft.

"Lucifer."

The normally impassive woman's eyes widened and there was a flash there of something – pity maybe – before she schooled it back. "You did very well, thank you. Can you tell me what he called you?"

The wolf flinched at the question. "Pet."

"Thank you, that's enough for now, Derek." Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him, muttering to herself. "What did you get yourself into to get Lucifer's attention?" She didn't bother moving away since werewolf ears would hear her still. Instead her attention went back to Stiles, dismissing the wolf almost abruptly. "Normally I'd suggest a spell to make him human, so we can give him the medication needed to deal with a fractured mind. There's no way to stave off insanity, I'm afraid. He's crumbling fast. But making him human would mean you'll be without your familiar for too long and the built up magic will kill you."

This time she moved away to give Derek some more space. "That's why Julia spelled him into falling for her, her intention had always been to keep him. After the rituals would be done and Deucalion dead, the built up magic would have been too much without having a source to drain it, a vessel to store it. Derek being linked to the Nemeton and a werewolf… as you know, he's the perfect conduit. There is no human cure for this. Alan and I will have to see what the three of us can do with our magic to aid Derek. How long are you able to hold on before the magic gets too much? Because I'm going to suggest keeping him weak with potions before he does something we cannot undo, such as taking his eyes or his life."

Stiles had to swallow hard a few times and his eyes widened as well at the mention of Lucifer himself. That was bad. That was very bad and it seemed Morrell got to the same conclusion with what she said next. Stiles lifted his gaze at her, his nails digging into his palms. He didn't even remember curling them into fists on his lap. But didn't care about it either. The slight pain kept him grounded enough not to freak out and his breathing slow and even, even if his heartbeat quickened with fear for his mate. Not for his own well-being.

"My magic is already off balance since last night's ritual, but I can hold on to it... dunno, around a week or a little more before I'd need a balancing transfer. But that's only if we get lucky and there isn't going to be a surge triggered by the big amount I had to use to do the spell and keep the portal open while pulling his soul back to this dimension," he said truthfully.

The younger druid's worried eyes drifted back to the curled up man. "But I can hold on for him. If what you say might help him. Give his mind and soul some time to adjust and process at least a portion of what he'd gone through..." He hated this. Talking about Derek's fate while he was right there, unresponsive for now. As if they were talking about a problematic child. Which was far from the truth. Derek was broken. And Stiles wanted to help mend the ragged edges at least a little bit, to give him his life back. Or at least a life in which he could find his footing again and step on the long path of recovery.

"If it gets... too much, I might be able to sedate him with the potion that worked on him while he was in heat and do the balancing like that. So it wouldn't put additional strain on him or trigger anything. Though we never tried it that way, so I hope it'd work. What do you think?" he looked back at the woman, who was still studying him instead of Derek.

Derek barely acknowledged them, though he was listening closely to them with his head tilted and his eyes averted. It wasn't clear if he even heard all they were saying or not, he kept scratching at the back of his neck and remained hunkered down to appear as small as possible. It wasn't easy for a six foot muscular man to look even remotely small but somehow the Hale managed to look as broken as he was inside. It was tragic for a proud werewolf like that to give up his soul to save his daughter, only to take it back to even out the bond to his magical mate and to have a chance at being a father with feelings instead of a cold heartless husk. And now it was destroying him.

"No, it will be harder for you to do the ritual with him out cold. Try tomorrow to do it without it first, only knock him out if you have to. After you've done the ritual we'll give him the potion, with wolfsbane. It will weaken his healing so he can't take your magic but hopefully it will buy us the time to come up with a solution." She glanced to Derek briefly. "As far as we know, Lucifer rarely takes on souls. If he does... Maybe we should find a way to end the bonds without you as casualty. It would be gentler to put him down."

Derek flinched at that, but he didn't protest once, not even a growl or snarl. Maybe deep down he knew he no longer had a say in what happened anymore. Maybe death wasn't something he minded. He certainly had 'died' enough times to accept it, was at peace with the possibility of it as long as it would keep others safe.

Stiles' reaction was immediate. His anger boiled up in him in less than two seconds and he found himself kneeling in front of Derek, his back to him so he could face the other druid. His eyes flared up in time with his magic which created a thick amber-colored shield wall around the mates. The part which was closest to the woman pulsed and emitted so much heat that she was forced to slide backwards to get away from the burning air, while the magic closest to Derek stayed cool and comforting.

"HOW DARE YOU?!" Stiles' voice boomed across the room, laced with magic and sizzling anger, his eyes glowing brightly and in warning. He heard whispering in his head, the darkness inside encouraging him through the whispers to hurt her. Teach her a lesson. To kill her for what she suggested. And he was a second from giving in with his shaky control.

Morrell seemed to have realized her mistake. But maybe it was too late.

"How dare you suggest something like that?!" Stiles hissed at her, the amber tendrils and veins climbing up on his neck and side of his face, hands glowing in the same color. "You have NO idea how deep our bonds go or how strong they are. I called you here to ask for help, not to threaten the life of my mate! I'd give my life to protect his! Never forget that, Morrell! And don't come with that 'greater good' and 'for the balance' bullshit, because I swear I'll unleash my magic on you and burn you to ashes. I am so very close to it right now. I think it's better if you leave. Now. We can talk tomorrow. Go!"

"Offering him the chance to forget all of what happened, to be at peace, it's help as well, Stiles. He's suffered more than enough, don't you think?" Marin took a few steps back, halfway to the door since she could see there was no reasoning at the moment. It was a reminder that Stiles' control was fickle at best, a danger to all if that wasn't dealt with soon enough.

At the door she paused to turn to him. "His insanity is already spreading to you, control yourself. His daughter needs one father at least. And you're scaring your mate." The door was slid closed behind her with a loud clang, making the werewolf whimper.

All the yelling and anger wasn't helping. Neither was the scent of magic in the air because it was infused with fire. Suddenly Stiles wasn't turning into a corpse anymore, he was turning into Lucifer himself. Dark hair became blond, the warm voice turned taunting and there was a nasty smile plastered on his face. Corners were nice but they were also preventing him from fleeing so with his heart hammering in his chest like a frightened rabbit, he shielded his head. If blows were coming, then at least the most vulnerable part was hidden. The anger was going to get turned on him, it always was, that's what he had been good for. He healed so who cared? His body trembled because he knew what was going to happen and it was never anything good.

The whispers became louder as Stiles' anger got pushed a notch higher from what she was saying, but there was truth in her words as well. Yes, Derek had suffered enough, but he wasn't a lost cause. Stiles had to believe that there was a way to help his mate – without killing him. Yes, it was harder for him to control himself. Yes, Beth needed them. Not just one father but both! And yes... he was definitely scaring Derek and that was what made Stiles finally turn and sit back on his heels, upper-body sagging forward as the wall of magic disappeared and he was working on pulling it back. Making his Spark pull back along with the voices.

Derek needed him. He had to stay strong. In control.

"I am mindful and in the moment... I am mindful and in the moment," he whispered his personal mantra to help him focus and calm down as he was taking deep breaths, exhaling slowly. Soon only his heart was beating too fast, but at least his breathing evened out and he felt calmer as he kept his eyes on the scared werewolf.

His anchor. His love. His mate.

Stiles wiped at his face with the back of his hand and exhaled loudly before he inched a bit closer on the floor.

"It's okay, Derek. It's me Stiles. I'm sorry if I scared you. I didn't mean to. I just wanted to protect you because I love you and I don't want any harm to get to you. At least from the outside world. I'll always protect you... Please... if you can... just look at me... and take my hand," he asked softly, offering a slightly trembling hand. "Please."

There was a reason why Lucifer had kept Derek as a pet all this time. Because no matter how often he broke him, he'd still fight back, he'd still attempt to survive whatever was thrown at him. He'd defend because he had to, because nobody else was going to if he didn't unless they wanted something from him and the Devil? He always wanted something from Derek. He didn't hear Stiles voice speaking to him, he only heard the mean taunting voice of his tormentor.

He tried to tell himself it wasn't real, tried to remind himself of the truth but nothing made sense, nothing at all. When he lifted his head, he had shifted to beta form, and he snarled in warning even though it wasn't much of a warning at all, it was his call to arms. The arm outstretched to him wasn't a hand with an open palm, it was a finger beckoning him over, like Lucifer had done when punishment was going to happen. He was supposed to come obediently without a fuss, the more he fought, the more he'd be punished. He knew that and yet it didn't stop him.

Red eyes stared at the arm before he lashed out, claws sinking into the flesh to gauge long deep wounds, the scent of fresh blood satisfying.

"Leave me alone!" he roared with his alpha voice, deep and menacing. "No more, no more. Stop it. No more." His voice broke, as did the shift as he reverted back to himself. "Please, no more, no more."

The shock was too great and strong in Stiles so the excruciating pain came only a few seconds later, making his eyes water and a strangled, ugly noise wheeze out of him. He instinctively leaned on his good arm and pulled the injured one closer to his body. The movement left a trail of blood on the floor and it continued dripping steadily onto his sweatpants.

It was difficult to breathe through the pain and think clear enough to remind himself that Derek didn't mean this. That he was seeing things. He was probably a corpse again to him, or maybe even Lucifer himself. Judged by the whimpering pleas, it was probably the latter.

With the strong feeling of failing Derek, the young mage shifted on his spot a bit so he could hold out his good hand, making it shimmer in amber. He called some of his magic forth and with the first teardrops sliding down on his too pale face, Stiles put his intent of helping Derek into his swirling power. It quickly surrounded Derek's head while Stiles tried to ignore the burning and throbbing in his bleeding arm.

"Sleep!" he finally muttered that one word in Gaelic and watched as his mate's troubled features finally went lax while his body sagged against the wall behind him.

"Stop crying, you idiot. Move. Move, Stiles!" he stuttered to himself. He couldn't let his body give in to shock. He had to stop the bleeding. He had to ignore the thick waves of nausea that hit him from the strong scent of blood. His blood. He didn't look down on his forearm, not wanting to faint and bleed out right there. So he forced himself to get on his shaky legs and stagger towards the bathroom.

He can do this. Piece of cake. He can do this...

In the bathroom he fumbled for the first aid kit and focused on putting some of his potions and balms on the counter too. It was a bit difficult with only one arm, but he managed. Once he drank a bitter potion that would slow his bleeding, got some sterile gauze and antiseptic, he finally looked down at his forearm. All the blood didn't help and he fought back the gagging. He had to hurry to clean and seal the deep slashes. He also had to ignore the possibility that the white he saw might have been a bone.

His good hand was shaking terribly so he had to pause and take a few deep breaths, shouting on the inside to control himself. That voice sounded eerily like that dickhead drill-sergeant Jones everyone hated at the academy. But it did the trick and he could finally start cleaning the wounds only with a few painful curses and hisses. Then Stiles rubbed some healing balms into them with even louder curses. But he had to because without that using only his magic on such deep injuries wouldn't be enough. It was needed to heal the scratches enough so they wouldn't need stitches. Because nu-huh! No needles! Stitching himself up was something that wasn't going to happen!

But it seemed that the balm and his magic were working as his good hand was hovering over the wounds, guiding his magic. Without being able to borrow Derek's healing ability, this was going to be the best he could do. And it was already much more than what he was able of doing a few months back, so he wasn't complaining. No, Stiles was focusing on the spell that helped the magic and the balm do their thing while he was drenched in cold sweat and was fighting the nausea and fainting while sitting on the closed toilet seat.

It took a couple of minutes, but the bleeding slowly stopped and he watched his flesh and skin start to knit back together until the wounds scabbed over. He could keep up the spell only until then, knowing that it wouldn't heal more. Plus he was exhausted to the bone. It was only then that he had realized that tears were streaming down his face all along. Ignoring that, he cleaned the wounds once again before bandaging up his forearm. The scratches will need some time to heal since they were inflicted by an alpha. His own alpha. He's going to be lucky if they doesn't scar. As the final act, he popped a few painkillers with some water for good measure and sat there with his head leaned back against the tile. His sobs were quiet, the tears hot and it felt as if a hand was twisting his heart in an iron-grip. But he let himself cry, unable to keep it all in any longer.

After some time, he didn't feel like puking or fainting, so he blew his nose in some toilet paper and wiped his face again, the rune on his good arm was lightly throbbing in time with the injuries. Stiles ignored that in favor of cleaning up the bathroom and the floor wherever his blood dripped on his way to the bathroom.

Once that was done and his limbs felt like led, he changed into clean clothes and dragged their pillows and cover from the bed to the corner. He put a pillow under Derek's head once he adjusted his body into a more comfortable position. The steady, deep breaths told Stiles that Derek was deeply asleep without dreams. He made sure with his intent not to allow him any dreams. He placed down his own pillow too, but instead of laying his head on that, he put it on Derek's chest as he carefully nuzzled to the warm body and pulled the cover over them.

"I love you..." he whispered hoarsely as he finally closed his burning eyes, blinking away a few more tears and fainted into his own exhausted sleep, the darkness lingering in his thoughts.

CAN'T GO BACK

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