12: In Waves – Part 2

In contrast with the successful first real mating and the happiness and contentedness that had brought to the mates, of course shit had to hit the fan again. They didn't seem to have time to get a break. Which wasn't really news to Stiles, but it didn't mean that it was going to make things easier.

In a few days he was coming home from an early catch up and training session with Deaton. Stiles wasn't that surprised to see Morrell at the clinic too. She seemed to have a kinda creepy and unhealthy curiosity and fascination with him now, which made the young druid a bit uneasy and weary around her. But he didn't object or sent her away so she stayed to observe. His control over the magic was getting a bit better with each training session and to Stiles' request they were focused on learning healing spells and methods, because it was them and they were living in Beacon Hills where things could and usually did go south after a while.

He was excited to get back to the loft and tell Derek all about what he'd learned that day and how Beth and his dad were because he made a quick visit to the house too, but once he arrived back to the loft, he immediately felt the disturbance in his mate. Well, he did kinda feel it all morning too, but he had to focus on his training and Deaton had warned that it wasn't going to be easy.

Still, when he exited the elevator in the loft, his worries grew as he went to search for Derek whom he couldn't see, but knew that he was home.

It was silly for Derek to think that this magical wall would make everything all okay. They had been warned about it and yet when he had woken up and he had made love to Stiles, it had seemed like they had gotten a break. After everything, they had deserved that much. But it wasn't that easy, it never was. It had been a respite, a day of peacefulness.

It had started with nightmares or more like night terrors. Violent flashes of memories which left him reeling, which in turn influenced Stiles as well. The Hale would wake up in a cold sweat and flee to the showers to frantically scrub himself clean even though he knew it was all in his head. And not even Stiles' assurances that he wasn't covered in blood or gore would let him believe it until the shower had rinsed his skin clean. Which was fine, it was doable for them. But this late morning, it had been mortifying. Waking up alone, scream stuck in his throat, the bed empty and cold. It took a moment to realize the reason why he had been cold.

It was because he had lost control of his bladder and he was lying in it. Angry at himself for being like that, he had attempted to clean up the mess by removing the sheets and cleaning up the special tarp that had been around the mattress. Halfway through, he had to stop, had to take a shower, had to get clean.

Scrubbing himself bloodied, letting the water rinse away all the evidence, Derek had retreated in the corner of the shower and had stayed there. Folded up, letting the water run cold but even then he hadn't moved.

Filthy, he was filthy.

He wasn't allowed to move, he had to stay there as time ticked away, the water freezing. It's what he deserved.

Filthy, dirty mongrel.

Stiles heard the water running in the bathroom so he waited for a minute or two just standing in the living room, staring at the bared bed. When he didn't hear any movement and his chest got tighter from what he was feeling coming from Derek, he sighed quietly and walked inside. He spotted the curled up naked man immediately and he had to swallow hard, trying to remain calm.

"Derek..." he said softly, both to announce his arrival in case he didn't hear it because of being too lost in his own head, and to draw his attention to him. Stiles closed the tap to make the water stop. Sadly he knew that expression well. Derek was dealing with memories of Hell again...

"It's okay, I'm here. Let me help you," he said, picking up Derek's towel to put it around his shoulders as Stiles crouched in front of him, rubbing the towel over the wet hair, shoulders and back. "You're safe now. Those are just memories. I'm here with you," he repeated.

It was never going to be easier to see Derek like this and sometimes Stiles felt like it was so unfair that they both had to deal with this, that this extra burden was put on their shoulders too besides all the other things they had to deal with. But life was cruel and this was something they couldn't wipe out of theirs. They did as much as they could with the wall, the rest they had to deal with one step at a time.

"There's no blood. You're clean. The water washed it all away," he said like a mantra, trying to make Derek believe it too. It sometimes worked. He hoped it was going to be such a time now too.

Derek was cold, no scratch that, he was freezing so when the water was shut off, and a towel started drying him off, he leaned into it, too out of it to really protest. Derek didn't know he had been under the cold water for hours but his body sure knew. Shivering, he allowed for the human to help him up, to get out of the bathroom but the smell of the soiled bedding made him angry again.

"I can dry myself," he snapped, taking the towel. The wolf wasn't angry with Stiles, this was about his shame, about the fact he was a useless mate to the other. "You're already forced to do everything." Roughly patting himself down with the towel, Derek, reached for some of the clothes Stiles had piled up to make it easier for him. Anything warm would be great right now so he chose a thick sweater and sweatpants.

"I tried to clean the bed... I'll... put the sheets in the washer." They had been clean sheets, he knew that, so he could understand his mate's puzzlement, he didn't need to see the human's face to know the look on it. "I soiled the bed, okay? That's how stupid I am, that's what you're stuck with now." He couldn't even keep his bladder in control.

Stiles tried really hard not to feel a bit hurt from the way Derek snapped and took the towel. He knew it wasn't because of him, but feeling his mate so angry and disgusted with himself was hard on the human too, because he wanted to help, but didn't always know how. Sometimes Derek outright didn't let him help. Which was frustrating and depressing in itself.

"It's okay, Derek. It happens. I did that a lot after the trauma of my mother's death. So I understand," he said on a soft tone. "You're not stupid. You've gone through an even bigger trauma and you are just starting to work through that. Try to be patient with yourself. Please." It wasn't the first time Stiles asked that from Derek, but he'd repeat it as many times as it was needed for it to get through that thick stubborn skull of his mate.

He tried his best to be understanding and patient as well. This situation they were in was far from easy, but he wasn't going to leave Derek to deal with this alone. He was his soulmate. Of course he was going to be around and help as much as he can.

"While you put that in the washer, I'll get a fresh sheet," he said, heading towards the drawer. It was easier that way to deal with the numbing feeling of uselessness he often felt when he couldn't help on Derek. And that feeling only got amplified since Derek was feeling like that on his own too. Not to mention the growing tenseness and anger in him. It felt like an invisible hand started gripping Stiles' throat and he stopped in his tracks to go back to Derek and touch his shoulder in an attempt to ease those feelings and help ground his mate by his touch.

Derek didn't point out that Stiles had been a child when his mother died and that didn't compare to a full adult having that same problem. It was more allowed for kids to have accidents like that but adults? Nor was the whole 'a lot' saying helpful, if it meant he was going to do this more than once. Which was very likely since he knew it had happened from pure fear, not because he had been dreaming about having to go. It wasn't a bigger trauma, angry that Stiles would even think that losing his mother at eight years old wasn't as big a trauma. Traumas shouldn't be scaled on how bad they were and he wasn't going to feel special just because he had been tortured, didn't give him more rights or less rights.

Patience... yeah, he heard that before. But Stiles wasn't the one peeing the bed or hiding in the shower. Stiles was the one stuck with Derek, cleaning after him, helping him bathe, put clothes out, cook for him, dealing with his freak outs and nightmares. He was bonded to a complete failure and they both knew it. When a hand touched his shoulder without telling him beforehand, he flinched away, violently sidestepping so the hand fell away.

"Don't touch me." He didn't want to be touched right now, when he had his arms full with soiled sheets, when he felt like he wasn't worth anything.

"And I'll make the bed myself. It was my mistake. You don't have to keep doing all that for me. I know you're only staying with me because you'll die otherwise, but that doesn't mean you have to be my servant."

Blood rushed out of Stiles face and suddenly it felt as if all of it went into his ears which began buzzing as heat made the back of his neck tingle and burn up right where the alpha claiming bite was. He stared at Derek more silent and motionless than ever before. It wasn't from pulling away from his touch – which was painful in itself – or being called Derek's 'servant'. It was because of one part of a sentence that kept ringing in his buzzing ears.

‘I know you're only staying with me because you'll die otherwise…’

He knew Derek's emotions were all over the place and that he was upset, but knowing that didn't stop Stiles' heart from skipping a beat before sinking to what felt like to his feet. He immediately felt himself closing up from Derek for the first time since they had mated as an unimaginable amount of emotional pain flared up inside his suddenly too tight chest.

How could he say something like that after everything he had done for Derek?!

It was the second time during that week that Derek left him speechless, but this time it wasn't the good kind of speechless. No, it was the painful kind. And although it seriously hurt him and his suddenly restless magic to shut himself off from his mate, it didn't compare to the damage those untrue words had caused in him. His eyes welled up, but he firmly stomped down on the burning in them and didn't allow himself to cry in front of the other man.

‘I know you're only staying with me because you'll die otherwise…’

Did everything he had done for Derek... for them mean so little? So little that Derek believed what he just said? It felt like he believed what he was saying and that was the real stab into Stiles' heart because he's been working so very hard to make things work between them, to save Derek, to make him believe and feel just how much Stiles loved him. And all that... was all that in vain?

He needed air. Right now. Before he lost control over himself and the magic. The aching in his chest only intensified from being cut off from his mate, but he kept the bonds closed, no matter how painful it was, because even now when his supposed soulmate had stabbed him like that, Stiles didn't want to let him feel just how much his words had hurt him. Derek was in enough pain of his own. A screaming match wouldn't help anything.

"Right... I'm going for a ride," he announced on a grave voice and not waiting for an answer grabbed his leather-jacket from the back of the couch and slammed the heavy door of the loft closed behind him to head for the elevator outside.

The moment the door was pulled shut with a loud clang, Derek flinched at the sound, standing there frozen while Stiles rushed away. He couldn't even feel him anymore, he was completely closed off from the wolf, bond blocked. Not that he needed the bond to know he had hurt the younger man because that's what he was impeccable at, hitting right where it would hurt to push others away. Inhaling sharply at his own distress, because he wasn't allowed to feel anything anymore, he didn't deserve feeling sorry for himself, he slowly made his way to the bathroom.

Like a zombie, he felt for the detergent to get the sheets washed, using the alpha eyes to see what program to use. After that came making the bed after washing the tarp-like cover on the mattress with a cloth and soap. He should do more, he thought as he uselessly wandered around the loft, right after came the familiar thought of why even bother? Why should he bother with anything when it was going to be taken away? Stiles wasn't going to come back. Why should he? There was nothing left for Stiles here, only a spiteful mate who couldn't even keep his mouth shut even though he was so good at not talking.

His wandering was more the walk of a caged animal, restlessly prowling back and forth as his breathing intensified, along with his utter hate for himself. Stiles didn't deserve this, never had deserved this, could have done so much better. Instead he chose Derek, chose to move back to Beacon Hills and give up everything for him and this was how he was treated? Stupid, stupid... stupid!

Panting in rage, the Hale whirled around to hit the closest wall with his fist, punching a hole in it easily. It wasn't satisfying, it didn't even break his skin. Idiot, he couldn't even punish himself. Instead he went for one of the iron columns so he could punch it repeatedly, over and over until bones snapped and skin split, until his blood ran in rivulets down his wrists. Still, he kept going, the roaring of his rage rushing through his body blocked out by this inhuman sound taking up the entire loft and he didn't even know it was his own misery until his knees gave out and the sound stuttered.

***

Thanks to some miracle, Stiles didn't break down or got into a car accident during his seemingly aimless drive. He realized only when he turned onto the dirt road that led to the preserve that his drive wasn't as aimless as he first thought. His control was slipping fast and he needed to get away from people before he completely lost it. By the time he parked the Jeep, his veins were glowing bright, once more giving the impression of those cracks on his skin as if he was about to explode from the inside out.

His vision was blurring from the pounding of the magic in his head and whole being. His body was trembling by the time he stumbled out of the Jeep and headed deeper into the forest. He stumbled a few times as the first sobs tore out of his panting mouth, eyes unseeing from the tears he couldn't hold back anymore. Everything felt so wrong. The world around him, the air he breathed in (which smelled like fire to him somehow), the burning of his claim mark on the back of his neck, the rattling sounds of his panicking breathing, the wobbling of the ground beneath his unsteady feet and the magic itself. It was burning and menacing, as if blaming him for being nearly completely cut off from Derek. It was pushing hard against Stiles, wanting access to the rest of it which was stored in Derek, but Stiles firmly kept the bonds closed.

‘I know you're only staying with me because you'll die otherwise…’

The pain flared up in his tightening chest again and he felt like suffocating from it and from the lack of air in his lungs. He didn't know where he was going, couldn't see a thing from his tears and the pain that tore into his trembling and burning up body, which felt way too tight for him all of a sudden. The magic was expanding and pushing at him from the inside out too – making his eyes and veins glow brightly in the shady forest.

When his shoulder hit the bark of a tree hard (possibly cracking the bones in it), he barely felt the physical pain. Instead he grabbed onto the tree and with violent heaves emptied the content of his stomach right next to it. More tears dropped into the messed up grass from his eyes as he felt so disgusted with himself, so useless and weak and so not enough. No matter how hard he tries, he'll never be enough for Derek or for anyone. Ever!

He didn't notice how the wind picked up in the forest or how suddenly dark clouds gathered overhead. The trees' mostly bare branches knocked together loudly as the wind swirled and howled while Stiles pushed on, going further into the woods once he wiped his mouth and nose with the back of his hand.

‘I know…’

Stiles stumbled and he fell onto his hands and knees.

‘… you're only staying with me…’

His violently trembling and glowing hands went into his hair, pulling at it as the throbbing and the pressure intensified along with the volume of Derek's echoing voice in his mind.

'…because you'll die otherwise…’

In that moment he wanted to die. To make this all stop. To make Derek stop repeating it!

"MAKE IT STOP!!!" his roar echoed through the woods just before a lightning struck a tree not far from him and the loud sound of it suppressed his scream.

And that's when for a moment everything stopped in the forest in anticipation as a heavy momentary silence fell onto it. The tension reached its peak and suddenly Stiles screamed at the sky when the magic exploded out of him in a fiery wave like never before, the unstable outburst burning up and killing everything around him in a thirty feet radius.

***

Panting against the iron beam, Derek leaned his head against it, the coolness of the metal doing nothing for the aching in his head. His hands had healed already, the skin effortlessly closed over bones which were no longer broken and only the blood reminded him of the injuries sustained. Not even a phantom pain lingering in his hands, as if it never had been there. It was the curse of a werewolf when pain was the one anchor left and it was only so brief, a fleeting moment and not much of a relief at all.

He wanted to feel his mate, wanted to reach out through the bond to at least tug at it and make sure Stiles is even there. He would feel it, if his mate were to die, even with a bond closed off from him, of that he was certain. He'd feel it if part of his heart was ripped away from him. Death wouldn't be instant, their bond had time to settle but it would be something he'd long for. Already the wolf felt bereft from the warmth the part of Stiles brings within their bond. A part of him was missing and the magic within him sensed the way was shut because it pressed at him from inside. It left this uncomfortable pressure aching behind the breastplate. Though it could also be the ache from harming his own mate and the knowledge he's out there somewhere, upset and alone without Derek.

Wasn’t that the point? A voice asked him nastily, sounding suspiciously like Lucifer.

A sob choked him, no, it shouldn't be the point at all and yet he couldn't help himself, falling back into old behavior simply because his own mind didn't make much sense at times and his feelings were all over the place. So disgusted with himself that it was easier to push away the one person who loved all there was about him, even all those deep, dark and broken corners. So broken that it was easier to break that one person and make him hurt instead of clinging to that overwhelming love until it was nothing but a fragile thing fluttering between them in a thin golden thread of despair. And instead of fighting for it like it was something precious, he was here on the ground alone, not fighting at all. Stiles deserved better than him. So much better but there had been truth to his words. Without Derek, Stiles would wither and die, so instead of deserving better, he was stuck with what he had. Which wasn't much at all right now.

You’re nothing.

Fighting the hopelessness threatening to overwhelm him, Derek closed his eyes to steady his breath. And that's when he felt it. Not so much as heard it. This intense shock running through the ground, into the building, vibrating around him in an echo of a soundless explosion. Stiles. He knew it was Stiles and he knew, even without the access to the bond, that his mate was in trouble. Not even hesitating, he scrambled up, to find his car keys only to pause. No, he couldn't drive like this, not even with his alpha eyes, because the sight was too different to not cause trouble. He'd run, he'd walk, crawl if he had to. Stiles needed him.

Once he was downstairs, the Hale found himself on his knees again, this time for a different reason as he scuffed his knees and ruined his jeans with the violence in which he had thrown himself down. The emotions which overwhelmed him weren't his own, they were Stiles', the bond was opened. It was too much too fast. One burning emotion standing out above all other: the desire to die!

Oh no, oh no! What had Stiles done? There was no time, he had to reach his mate and his blindness was definitely in the way right now. As was his human body. Shedding what he was wearing by ripping them apart, the shift was upon him rapidly with the ferociousness of the wolf he now was. Derek needed it, needed the strength of the nose, the sight of the red eyes, the strength of the body.

A lone howl echoed in the air, the wolf sprinting off to find his mate. Stiles needed him. Nothing else mattered anymore.

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