11: Can’t Go Back – Part 2

 "Obviously he's completely out of his mind."

"You underestimate Derek's urge for survival, Marin. He's still in there somewhere."

"He destroyed his own eyes."

Deaton sighed at that as he shone a penlight into the wrecked eyes, not finding anything that would suggest the sight would be restored. Not something he was going to tell Stiles who was watching them too quietly. Instead he wrapped the bandages back over them after applying healing salve, tucking the wolf's sheet back up. Derek was out cold thanks to all the potions the druids had made him drink. He'd be sleepy and complacent for as long as they made him ingest the potions. It was going to give them the time they needed. Which was a little longer with Stiles having done the balancing but it was not long by far.

"He took out his sight to protect Stiles from being attacked further due to hallucinations. It was rash and certainly not the best of options but Derek isn't known to think before acting when emotions run high." He turned his attention to Stiles.

"You can remove the bandages tonight. I've pulled out all the remaining ash." With the wolfsbane in the potions, it wasn't very likely more healing was going to happen but it wasn't mentioned, it would heal as much as it was supposed to heal. "The fact that Derek was able to touch the mountain ash with his claws is promising though, the bond between the two of you is settling, giving him strength."

There was a pointed look to the female in the room, obviously there had been a discussion long before the two druid siblings arrived at the loft. At least Marin hadn't mentioned putting the Hale down anymore. She had learned her lesson, or had been reprimanded enough to remain silent about it. "We have found a way to slow Derek's decline. It’s powerful magic though, it'll require much out of the three of us."

"What Alan means is that we don't have a cure for the damage Lucifer did. The mind is far too complicated to heal. But... there is a ritual to create a wall within the mind to keep the insanity at bay. Allow him time to work through the trauma. But it will not hold up forever."

"And we need time to gather all the ingredients we need. You can't balance the magic with him under the influence of the potions, his healing isn't strong enough for it."

"I know that. But I'll be able to hold the Spark long enough to do the ritual. I'm in, by the way," Stiles finally said after he stopped rubbing his lips and chin in silence. He watched every move the two druids made around his mate, but didn't say anything so far aside from thanking them for coming and helping. He also wasn't going to apologize to Morrell for his outburst. Killing Derek was never going to be an option for him. He made sure she'd understand that.

"I don't care how much magic I'll have to put in from my part. I'll do it for him," he said on a deadly serious tone with a matching expression. "How much time do you need for collecting the ingredients?"

The siblings looked at each other for a moment, obviously a kind of silent communication going on between them before Deaton looked back at him. "A couple of days. The ritual is complicated with rare ingredients, which means that we'll have to go out of town to get what we need from other places," he said. As usual, not really giving away anything. "Gathering everything we need is the easier part, though."

"What do you mean?" Stiles raised a brow questioningly.

"Not many tried or succeeded with this spell," Marin answered to which her brother nodded.

"But we believe that with the help of a Spark, we will," he sent another pointed look at the woman. "There's a lot of potential there."

"I don't care if you look at me like a specimen of a rare species. I just want to help on Derek. He wants to get better and is fighting it. He'll never stop fighting it. And I'll do everything necessary to help him succeed," Stiles stated firmly.

Deaton heaved a sigh because there was still the chance of it not working, no matter how much they all wanted this to work. And they couldn't give him the potions forever either, some ingredients were going to be damaging on the long run, nor would it be much of a life. Maybe better than the insanity lurking in that stubborn head of the Hale but either one might not be choices Derek would want for himself.

"Try to talk to Derek about what he'd want if it doesn't work, and I know you don't want to think about it but you can't make that choice for him, not even as his mate or emissary." Deaton wasn't going to make it either, it was his job to remain impartial, to look at the greater good.
Stiles knew Deaton was right. He couldn't make this choice for Derek, even if he wanted. It didn't matter just how much their lives were entwined, what remained for the wolf was Derek's. So as Stiles ran a nervous hand through his messy hair, he finally nodded in agreement to that. He'll have to talk to Derek about this when his pair was going to be conscious, he knew.

"There is also that option to save your own life."

"Marin, no. It's not an option here. Stiles made it clear that his destiny is with Derek and that is his choice. They are bound, for better and for worse." His attention went to the Spark. "Call me if you feel the magic is too much, we will do our best to hurry."

Marin's comment made Stiles freeze, but this time Stiles' control over his emotions and magic was better. He wasn't going to lash out at the woman. "What does she mean?"

A pained expression appeared on Deaton's face, but Stiles didn't back off. Though it seemed it was the vet's sister who got bored from the silence that fell on them.

"I meant severing your bonds and tying you to another alpha to keep you and the Spark alive," she said without an ounce of fear in her emotionless dark-brown eyes.

"Absolutely not!!" Stiles slightly raised his voice and rather tucked his fists into the pockets of his red hoodie, nails digging into his palms to let the slight pain keep him grounded. It was her second idea that he had found outrageous, even if a part of him understood her perspective. She didn't see him and Derek as people, even if she might give useful advice. They were more like vessels for some unique energy and carried just as much potential as danger. If they grow into their powers, they might be nearly invincible, but if not...

"Deaton is right. If he dies, I die too. I'll never be another alpha's. That's my decision," he frowned seriously, slight tremors running up on his arms, but nearly no magic was swirling around him. Only the amber glowed faintly in his irises. "For better or worse," he nodded towards Deaton in agreement again.

"So we will make sure that won't happen," Deaton decided, before his sister could say more about the loss of potential if Stiles were to die. Sometimes powerful sparks such as Stiles weren't meant to be. His mother certainly didn't despite the potential there.

"Of course," Marin answered, even though her tone made it clear that she didn't agree with this but in the end it didn't matter. Some situations couldn't be manipulated by druids, no matter how much they wanted to change it. Love was one of those factors. They could fake lust, they could make lovers forget one another but a bond was far more complicated. Deaton knew how it felt to love an alpha, how it felt to lose that alpha. Stiles already had too much loss in his young life to be willing to accept this one. The older man steered his sister towards the door.

"Call if you need to, Stiles. The potions are in the kitchen."

The metal door closed behind them with a loud clang, for a moment dragging the loft into a deafening silence which only lasted for a few minutes.

***

"I think I need a new therapist, mine wants me dead." Groaning, Derek rolled onto his side because the potion was not making him feel at his best, head too fuzzy to focus on anything for long. A headache made itself known, pounding away in his skull which could mean that he wasn't going to be lucid for much longer. At least he had napped without nightmares, which couldn't have been said for earlier. Waking up in cold sweat, tears soaked into the bandages, heart hammering away with a scream lodged in his throat. Stiles hadn't forced him to talk about it and Derek hadn't offered up any information either.

Stiles was just staring at the door once it banged shut, the words of the druid siblings rattling in his mind. He was so lost in them that Derek's voice nearly startled him. Turning around, he walked to the bed and poured a glass of water for his mate then sat down on the edge and offered the glass to him, taking a hand to put it around it so Derek knew what Stiles wanted him to do.

"Yeah... that might be a good idea. I want to drown her in this glass of water, to be honest. She has a talent to go on my nerves with her suggestions..." he huffed and gently stroked Derek's shoulder. "How are you feeling?" he asked on a softer tone. He could dully feel the headache through the bond, but knew it wasn't his. "You should also finally eat something. You haven't eaten since before the soul ritual..." the younger man said with some worry in his voice. Truth be told, he haven't eaten much since then either. Just some sandwiches and energy drinks he could force and keep down. He needed the energy to be able to stand guard over his mate.

"How much did you hear from our conversation?" Stiles asked after a pause. He needed to know. Not to decide how much to tell Derek, but from where to tell everything to him. Because he wasn't going to keep secrets from his mate. Derek had the right to know their options and Deaton's words were ringing in his ears too. Derek had the right to decide his fate in case their attempt to guard his mind isn't going to work. Even if his decision was going to be something Stiles might not like and was going to do everything in his might to prevent.

There was a flinch when his hand had been grabbed, not expecting the touch nor the coldness of the glass when his fingers touched it. The smell was bland, fresh so it was only water which Derek was willing to try even though he hadn't asked for it. "I'm not hungry." The soul ritual hadn't been that long ago, had it? A day or two, so there was no immediate need for food to prevent his body from shutting down. There was only one human here who needed to eat to keep up his strength and it wasn't Derek. "You should eat," he shot back, looking at where he guessed Stiles was out of pure habit.

"Enough to know there's a ritual to help me but the chances of succeeding are small." Laughter bubbled up because it seemed he was doomed to be insane and the sad little cackle it ended in made it clear that he was clearheaded sure but unhinged, ready to snap. "I'm not going to take the potions for long, it'll kill me and death isn't an option when it kills you. And I'm not going to burden you with my care when I'm dangerous." But he had no idea what the right choice was in this. Eichen house probably. It was a safe environment for a werewolf, they knew how to handle them. It wasn't the friendliest for him but a regular nuthouse wouldn't be equipped for his strength. What else was there, chain him up in the vault, keep him like a rabid pet? The idea of all of that was exhausting, disgusting. Was that what he survived all these years of Hell for?

Derek realized he was scared of all those possibilities, tired of all the suffering. The headache intensified so he drank from the cool water, misjudging where his mouth was at first and the sip only made him cough. Useless! Weak and useless and insane. He didn't want to anymore, he wanted to die and sleep and be done with everything if a life in chains was all there was left. Not that he'd would, Stiles needed him.

"Keep me in a coma if there's no way, there's enough money for what you'd need. Place me in the facility Peter had been in, long term care facility. You can still balance your magic, we won't die. If it comes to it, then I want to do that." Yeah, that thought was comforting but also sobering. It was a good thing he had gotten all of his affairs in order because it wasn't like he was considered sane of mind to make decisions. "I gave you my power of attorney, should decisions need to be made and I can't make them, as well as Beth's guardian. And access to all my financials. There's a vault in South America with some money but most of it is all legal and documented. I have bank accounts and savings and own properties. There's a list you can access should you need to sell for money." He frantically tried to think of more what needed to be said and hissed at the side.

"Shut up, I can't think with you talking so much."

Stiles was listening to Derek in silence, taking the mostly empty glass of water away just to slide the wolf's hand back in both of his. He could feel most of it through the open bonds and it made his heart sink even lower than it was. He hummed or grunted in disapproval a few times, but no words came out of him as he was just sitting there, staring at their linked hands.

What Derek was saying was mostly all reasonable – except for his last comment, of course, which indicated that he was hearing other voices. Even before the ritual Derek had tried to think of everything and it just fully dawned on Stiles now.

As he was sitting there, silent tears were running down on his face again. It seemed there was no end of them nowadays. He didn't want to cry, to be weak, but he couldn't stop them. His body wasn't obeying to him. Or his bleeding heart, which was aching so badly because his mate was in so much pain and turmoil and fear and self-hatred. It was just too much. It all was too much.

Still, Stiles took a deep shuddering breath and sniffed twice before clearing his throat and composing himself as much as he could.

"Okay. If that's your decision," he inhaled sharply again and paused for a few moments, his voice coming out steadier than he thought it would. "But we have to believe that the spell will work. It'll create a barrier from the insanity. Some of it will leak through, but in a mostly manageable way. Like a... dam in your head. Water seeping through, but in a way that isn't going to be as overwhelming as it is now... We need to believe that it'll work, Derek. It has to. I can't lose you like that. Even if you stay alive. It's not a life you deserve. You deserve so much more. Happiness, family and love. Fuck..."

Stiles raised one of his arms to hide his teary face in the crook of it, his other hand squeezing Derek's. He wanted to shout, to scream, to curse Lucifer, Hell, the whole world and the Universe for the undeserved suffering they had to go through. But he didn't. He locked it all up, his whole body shaking from it as he choked on a breath and an unhinged chuckle.

They couldn't break. They had to hang onto that bitch hope for dear life.

It wasn't much of a decision, it wasn't even a good one considering Derek'd be stuck sleeping forever until his mate would die but at least Stiles wouldn't have to see another loved one go insane, or slowly deteriorate to die. Derek still thought that the human was getting the short end of the stick here: raising a child which wasn't his, an insane mate in a coma, bonded to a husk of a man so at least his magic wouldn't be killing him. It wasn't much of a life for either one of them but he knew from experience that death wasn't kinder either. Derek would go straight to Purgatory, where all supernatural beings went, stuck to fight forever. Stuck to die over and over. But it wasn't Hell so there was that. Everything would be better than Hell.

"It's not a life you deserve, Stiles. None of this is. I deserve it. Not you." Derek fully believed that, because he had fought to have a better life since he was sixteen and it didn't seem like it would be happening. It was fine, it wasn't like he had expected anything else. There had always been others to fight for, to keep going for them and not for Derek. The pack and friends always a good reason to get up every day, not give up. And Stiles, being in this much pain... that hurt him more than all the years in Hell ever could.

That was what he had caused, a broken human boy, too young to know such sorrow and none of it was fair. Derek could smell the salty tears, the way the body shook with suppressed emotions as he was attempting to keep himself together. They were such a mess together that he wondered if there would be happiness and family for them ever. Derek destroyed all around him, wanting a child and a mate had been a selfish need and they were paying the price.

"I'm already gone. At least I could give you something so you can go on with your life. You'll be good for her, you won't abandon her like her parents did."

"That's such a big bullshit right there. You don't deserve this either and we will raise Beth together!" Stiles snapped once he lowered his arm and squeezed Derek's hand. The ritual had to work. He cannot do this alone. At least he had to believe firmly that the spell will work. Otherwise he was going to break too. Which he couldn't allow. He had to believe.

And it was all that was left for him because he felt it now that he cannot really reason with a half-insane mate. Derek was still stubborn and perhaps too much delusional to accept what he was saying. So Stiles put all his hope and belief in this new mantra.

The ritual has to work.

Otherwise all was lost for both of them.

"You should rest some more. I'll make something to eat for both of us for later." He was also going to clean Derek up with some wet towels once Derek was knocked out by the potions again. Plus study the book Morrell had given to Stiles about non-verbal werewolf communication. He wasn't going to waste any time while they had to wait for the druids' return. Wallowing in self-pity and feeling sorry for them wasn't Stiles' style. He had to feel useful or at least do something useful when he couldn't do anything else.

As much as Stiles attempted to hide it, Derek could hear the disappointment in the gentle voice as it urged him to rest. The human didn't think he had any hope in him for the ritual to work, wasn't counting on him to help in any way. And maybe that was the right thing to do, he had been pretty useless and letting it all fall on Stiles. Which was only adding to the boy's stress. No, not boy, Stiles was a fully grown man now and the Hale was partially responsible for everything going wrong in his life.

You’re only making it worse for him, Laura told him with disapproval in her tone. She never shut up, no matter how often he had told her to. Probably because right after that he'd apologize because he feared if she would shut up, he'd never hear her voice again.

"I know," Derek hissed at her, swallowing the growl to tell her to shut up. And glaring at a ghost was incredibly hard to do with bandages wrapped around his head. Reaching up to touch them, he realized his face felt dirty and he was starting to smell. How many days had it been? Derek had no idea and there was no way to reach the bathroom this time with how weak the potions made him feel. Speaking of which, there were no urgent bodily functions and he realized, with a flare of shame, that his mate must have been taking care of that as well. Oh god, how often had he soiled himself?

Laura was laughing at him, of course she would. "We can try the bathroom, I smell and I should... try the toilet." The last part was muttered by the wolf. "We can remove the bandages too, it all healed."

Stiles didn't even raise a brow from Derek's hiss. It sounded like he wasn't talking to him this time either. It was something Stiles was starting to get used to. Which was sad in itself, but he didn't comment on it, just nodded, forgetting for a second that Derek wouldn't see it. He wouldn't see anything for a long while. At least the hallucinations seemed to have stopped for good. Which was some progress in a way.

Instead, the young man tried to focus on Derek's willingness to go to the bathroom and maybe clean up too. "That's a good idea," Stiles said with more life in his voice than before. "Come, let me help you up. Your mind might be more or less clear from the potions but their effect can linger in your body," he explained and gently grabbed Derek's arm to lead it around his shoulders and help him up. His other arm went around the bigger body to balance and hold it up in case the wolf's legs would buckle under him.

It was a slow walk, but they made it to the bathroom in a minute or two and Stiles helped Derek to the toilet. To give him some privacy, he announced that he was going to change the bed sheets to keep himself busy. And he did so with mechanical movements, for a change his mind void of the usual cluttering of thoughts. His own arm was fully functional now too and without a bandage. The balancing and Derek's healing power did the trick and his skin was smooth and without scarring. Which was at least one thing less Derek had to worry or beat himself up about.

He returned to the bathroom just when Derek was done and already steadying himself by the sink, hands wet from probably washing his hands previously.

"Alright, let's see how your eyes are doing. Deaton had said that tonight we can take the bandages off, but it's already nearing evening, so I guess we can do it now too," he said and gently reached up to start peeling off the bandage. Stiles already knew what to expect. Fully restored eyelids and lashes over the previously missing eyeballs and blank white, nearly grey-ish irises. As if there was scarring over them or some milky substance. It wasn't scary, just unusual. Damn, how he missed that gorgeous green...

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