***

The distant chirping of birds was the first thing he heard as he was slowly regaining consciousness. He had no idea what happened or where he was. He had to open his eyes to at least figure out the latter. But he didn't do it for another minute or so, knowing that it was probably going to be a bad experience. And he was right. The second he cracked his burning eyes open, the light felt as if it cut into his brain, even though the curtains in the room were closed. It seemed like the pain in his head and body waited only for that to flare up, causing a displeased groan from Stiles.

Lifting his right hand to shield his eyes proved to be a bad move too, because more pain rushed down on his whole arm, seemingly originating from his shoulder. What the hell? He decided to first catalogue and carefully move his other limbs to see the extent of the damage he had somehow sustained. His legs were fine aside from feeling like each weighted a ton. The other arm was okay too, so this time he shielded his eyes with that hand and carefully opened them to focus on the room he was in.

His brain was struggling to connect the dots and give him the memories how he had gotten to the guest bedroom of Deaton's house. He'd recognize that ugly shade of green on the walls from anywhere. He's been here before with Derek when they had spent the night over after an intense practice session which left them both too high to drive home.

Derek… Where was Derek?

As a few fragments of what had happened flashed up in front of his eyes, Stiles' heart began beating heavily in his chest. He tried to sit up, but the pain in his shoulder intensified and he just realized that there was a needle in his still slightly glowing arm, connected to an IV. The twisted map of amber veins was still faintly visible all over him.

Just then, as if on cue to his painful grunt, the door opened and Deaton walked in with a small tray which had some pills, an herb concoction and a tall glass of water on it.

"Welcome back, Stiles."

"Doc... What happened? Where's Derek?" he asked right away. He could feel his mate through the bonds, but he had trouble focusing yet.

"You don't remember?" the druid asked as he put the tray down on the nightstand and reached out to press his fingers against Stiles' pulse point on his wrist and looked at his watch while counting.

"No, not really... everything's too fuzzy and messed up in my head..." he said, not liking the fact that focusing was not happening in his mind either.

"That's no wonder. You lost control over the magic and nearly died," Deaton said on a calm and low voice as if sensing that talking louder would hurt the other druid's ears. Which was probably a right guess because Stiles’ head was already pounding enough so he kinda felt grateful for that.

"What?" Stiles' eyes widened for a split second and he tried to sit up again just to fall back on the pillow with a hiss when his shoulder protested vehemently. He also didn't miss the fact that Deaton avoided answering him regarding Derek's whereabouts.

"You nearly died," Deaton repeated calmly, ready to push Stiles back on the bed if he was dumb enough to try sitting up again but he seemed to have learned his lesson after two tries. "You've been out of it for three days. Your father has been here daily to check up on how you were doing." And demanding a hospital even though they would do the same as the veterinarian had been doing: fluids and medicine. A broken collarbone couldn't be set, it would need a sling to heal.

"Derek is over there. He hasn't left your side." There was a nod to the corner where a large black wolf was curled up, sleeping for a change. After three days, it was about time. Perhaps the wolf had felt Stiles was going to wake up and finally gave into the body's demands. Well, it had certainly been aided by a little something extra in the water bowl.

"I don't know what had happened. Derek hasn't been exactly forthcoming in this form." Perhaps why the Hale had chosen to remain in wolf form in the first place, so he didn't have to talk because he had been behaving like a kicked puppy. So Alan had some ideas about what had happened. Not that it was any of his business, except a druid out of control was even more dangerous than an alpha on the loose.

"He brought you here on his back, smelling like death." Of course the older druid had visited the place of origin. Trees had been torn out or had died, plants blackened, grass and moss browned and yellow, animals perished as if the life had been sucked right out of them. There was a large blackened circle which had stumped the authorities as Noah wisely kept his mouth shut about it. It was hard to imagine that someone like Stiles had been capable of that kind of destruction but magic came with a price. When one wished for death, it would always come, simply not in the shape desired.

"You're completely depleted and I didn't risk the balancing ritual with Derek without you aware in case you'd accidentally take what you needed from the wall in his mind." The man sighed, because it was all tragic and completely stupid, which was honestly not surprising when Derek was involved. "It would seem the two of you will be my guests for a time until you're well enough."

For a change Stiles remained silent, his eyes glued to the form of the sleeping black wolf as he was trying to piece things together in his head from the little information Alan had shared with him.

'I know you're only staying…’

Fragments of memories flashed in front of Stiles and his eyes suddenly widened then filled with an amount of sadness which was a rare look on the seemingly always cheery and positive young man. His breath caught in his chest and he had to remind himself to exhale and inhale repeatedly to stay calm. The glowing of his veins intensified for a brief moment before he regained control over his slowly clearing up mind. But a part of him wished it didn't happen.

"I... remember. We got into a fight," he finally said to Deaton.

‘…because you'll die otherwise…’

Stiles swallowed hard and let his eyes drift away from the alpha's sleeping form. The memories and emotional pain seemed to stir up the physical one even more because all of a sudden everything just hurt in him. He remembered what caused it, how he got to the forest... but most of all he remembered the powerful outburst of the magic. How it painfully tore through his body and yet made him drunk on the huge amount of it. He felt like dying but at the same time more powerful and power-drunk than ever before – even if only for a few seconds before the world went blissfully dark on him and he fainted from the strain.

Is this how Jennifer had felt after the betrayal of her alpha? Is that how it feels being at the brink of becoming a darach, a dark druid? He definitely understood a bit better now how she must have felt, because that power surge was... addictive. Well, he might get it better now, but of course he wasn't going to change his opinion about that woman or feel sympathy for her. After all, she nearly killed his father, used Derek and she was the cause why Stiles had an unbreakable bond to the Nemeton and why he later got possessed by the Nogitsune thanks to the lingering darkness of that bond. Why the blood and death of so many were on his hands and soul – even if he was forced by the fox spirit. That woman... she only brought death and destruction with her during her vendetta.

As tempting as the power may be, Stiles didn't want to become like her. Even if what had happened had taught him that the possibility was very much there. He had the distant feeling that he was close to tapping into the lay lines again. Curiously not into the Nemeton, though. Did the ancient tree 'feel' that he was more of a danger than protector in those moments? It shouldn't matter to it, right? Like when it didn't matter to what Jennifer wanted to use its power for with the blood sacrifices. The tree accepted those and Jennifer also used the lines and Derek to amplify her powers.

His dark thoughts were interrupted by Deaton finally moving again. Until now it seemed he was wisely silent and frozen to the spot to let Stiles regain control over his body and mind. He would've disliked having to inject his "apprentice" again with a tranquilizer – which had happened twice during the past three days.

"That's very unfortunate. It had to be... bad if it managed to destabilize the magic and your anchor this much," Deaton frowned as he offered the small plastic cup of pills and the water to Stiles, who reluctantly took them because the cup reminded him too much of Eichen House when he was locked in there and had to take his meds like that. "It's for the ADHD and headache. The herbal concoction for the pains in your body."

"Yeah... and thanks," he said a bit hoarsely as he tossed the pills back and carefully drank from the water to help their way down and to wet his dry mouth. It also explained to Stiles why Derek stayed in wolf form and why he was in pain and not healed yet. Was Derek too... ashamed to turn back and pull his pain away? Stiles wasn't sure if the pain pulling worked in wolf form. Well, either way, thanks a lot Derek. The ‘mate of the year’ reward isn’t going to go to you, Stiles thought while he drank the rest of the water and forced the concoction down his throat too with the help of the vet. It wasn't as bad as he expected. It left a minty aftertaste in his mouth.

"No problem," Deaton answered with a glance to Derek, as if he was saying, 'You picked that, dumbass.' Alan wouldn't place Derek in a position of power if he had a say about it, because the Hale was too broken for it and incompetent. It was why he had chosen to back Scott instead of the other. Not that he'd ever deny help from Talia's offspring. Nor any other werewolf needing help. He had made a vow after all. But if these two were adamant on destroying each other, he might have to offer up other solutions. Such as them taking a break, which he had told Derek as much. They are able to be apart as long as the bond remains. Some time away might do them good instead of being the caretakers twenty four hours a day. That's all they had been doing lately.

"Shout if you need anything." The vet gave a small smile, taking the tray with him and closing the door behind him.

It only took a few minutes before Derek stirred, having been awake this entire time, aware of the deadly glares that had been sent his way, which he took without complaint. As well as the scathing remarks and lectures for the past three days.

There had been plenty of time to think, too much of it even. He'd sink inside his head and got lost there while keeping an eye on Stiles being so quiet in the bed. The loft needed to be made ready to move in so Beth and Derek could live there, give Stiles some space because maybe it had all went too fast, maybe he wanted some time with his dad without having to constantly care for a family. It was time for Derek to stop leaning on others like he had done in the last months. He had always done it by himself and he had gotten lazy. He could see if Beth would like to go to kindergarten a few times a week so the wolf could get some sleep when she was gone because there was no way he wanted her to witness his breakdowns.

Of course Derek hadn't known what Stiles would be feeling towards him, having this ridiculous hope that maybe it wasn't all lost between them. Until the younger man woke up and the emotions coming from him were anything but positive and he knew that break Deaton had talked about wasn't a bad idea. He had nearly killed Stiles, it's what he deserved and he accepted that. Stiles had been hurt enough. Derek wasn't going to make it any more difficult than it already was.

Quietly he shifted to his human form, the red eyes averted as he walked over to the bed, holding out the arm with the rune. Stiles needed the magic since his was depleted and Derek had plenty to give, he wasn't going to deny him this no matter what was going to happen between them. If love was so strong it could kill, it wasn't meant to be. Then their happiness would always be depending on the other. And he didn't want Stiles to die. He was too intense for the human right now, he wasn't good for him and his mate was never going to make that choice. So Derek had to.

Stiles just stared and stared at Derek in complete silence for a minute or two. Waiting. But nothing came from the wolf and it pissed him off more and more, the glowing of his veins and eyes intensifying, the soft sounds of clinking together glass starting in the room. Like months before in the animal clinic when he had trouble controlling his emotions. It was more dangerous now, though.

He stared at the slightly shimmering rune on Derek's offered forearm and couldn't help himself from feeling betrayed by the wolf. No apology. No declaration of undying love. No. Fucking. Words! Not a single one!

So he meant those words that kept haunting him ever since they were uttered. And Derek had already decided. Stiles could feel it through the strained bonds. They weren't completely open or closed. They were somewhere in the middle. The back of his neck was burning again and he was itching to scratch the alpha's claim mark there and to press his own rune against the beckoning one he was staring at. Most of his magic might have been depleted thanks to the outburst, making him feel as if his whole body was bruised on the inside, but he still had enough in him to feel how much it wanted their balancing connection to be established.

But Stiles held back and with his good hand pushed the arm away.

"Nothing? Really, Derek?!" he finally snapped, pain burning in the shimmering amber irises. He curled his hands into fists and ignored the pain that flared up in his injured shoulder from that move. He couldn't believe this man! Just standing there so silent! Like a stranger rather than his fucking soulmate. And it hurt nearly as much as that hated sentence from... apparently three days ago.

"You seriously... for once... for a change... aren't going to fight for us? For one fucking time?! Why does it always have to be me who does that??" he spat and felt some warm wetness ooze from his nose, inching toward his upper lip. Blood. He didn't care just kept staring at that big fucking emo moron. The anger that had been missing from him because of the shock three nights ago was now present in him very much, putting additional strain on his injured body along with the stirring magic. But Stiles didn't care about that either.

It was all familiar, maybe too familiar. People he cared about lashing out at him when the emotional strain got too much and Derek would lock up. And he always took it quietly, taking it because he deserved it, letting the words burn into him like brands. They didn't get him, he didn't even get himself. It was easier to take it instead of fighting with words, instead of getting angry himself when he was exhausted of everything. When it all felt like mistake after mistake until he no longer knew what to do anymore without making another one. It was like freefalling and no matter where he was going to land, it was going to hurt. Like this spiral of constant badness which surrounded him since he was fifteen years old.

"..." He wanted to fight, he wanted to get angry and curse and say that he wasn't going to get Stiles killed, that he wasn't good to be around. That time away would most likely save them but Stiles saw it as giving up. And he could smell blood and weakness and he knew if he'd push the human, he'd explode again, and there was no way the human body could take that.

Derek was the king of bad choices, choices which got people killed repeatedly and now he was at that crossroad again. He had no idea what the right one was, the little bit of confidence gained after the wall had been placed had crumbled a while ago and he knew that that was part of the problem. Him acting like a kicked dog, needing help and being weak. He should have cleaned the sheets and kept his mouth shut, then none of this would have happened in the first place.

"I'm sorry, for lashing out. I will do better from now on?" It sounded more like he was asking, not sure if this was the right thing to say or if this was going to push Stiles and he couldn't do that. "I will do better," Derek rushed to say with more conviction. He couldn't get Stiles killed, he couldn't. He'd do anything to make sure that wouldn't happen, anything at all. There were these alarms on his phone, he could set them so he'd get up more often in the night, and he could set one so he wouldn't be stuck under the shower. He could do better.

Hopelessness. That was the first thing Stiles felt besides the constant pain which was wreaking havoc in his body and soul. The tightness in his chest was back, making his broken heart crack further and beat faster. The room started to tilt, black dots swimming into the edges of Stiles' vision. The blood began dripping down from his chin steadier. Deaton's pills and potion were worth shit in the druid's opinion because the pressure in his head started to intensify too.

Derek didn't get it. Didn't get any of it after all this time being together either... And that didn't help him calm down. A crack ran across the window as the pressure in the room dropped significantly and he felt the fever returning in his body.

"I don't need you to do better, Derek! I need you not to say things to me like I stay with you only because I'll die without you!!" he shouted, struggling to sit up despite the protest of his body or the numbing pain in his shoulder and the crook of his elbow as he pulled the IV needle out.

"Or did you mean it? Do you really believe that? Were your words and what I felt on the kitchen table lies?! Did you lie to me, Derek?!" he questioned his mate, rough voice failing him a couple of times along the way. "Is that how you really see me? Like one of those people who only uses you? DO YOU SEE ME LIKE THAT, DEREK?! ANSWER ME FOR FUCK'S SAKE!" he shouted, his whole body swimming in pain and shaking, more cracks appearing on the window and the glass on the night stand simply shattered, but Stiles didn't seem to notice since his burning eyes were fixed on the stupid alpha while Stiles was now swallowing the blood too, which made his stomach churn, threatening with vomiting out the medicine all together.

The window creaked ominously and Derek flinched when the glass on the nightstand shattered and Stiles was only injuring himself more with the anger rising and rising while everything felt like it was slipping away. Talking at all seemed like the wrong thing, not talking was the wrong thing, everything was wrong. Frozen at the spot, he barely even realized Deaton had rushed in, pushing him aside to slip something in the human with a syringe and everything calmed. Stiles passed out quickly, the IV was returned and the vet sighed.

"You should leave, Derek."

"No. I'm not leaving."

"Your presence here doesn't do much good now, does it?"

"If I leave, he’ll think I gave up on him. I'm not leaving." Derek quietly got a bowl and cloth to clean up the blood, keeping his eyes red because being blind was a weakness he couldn't afford right now. He also cleaned up the glass and water, not caring when it cut into his skin to leave cuts which healed instantly. They barely had time to bleed much at all.

With an exhausted sigh, he sat down, cradling his head in his hands, forgetting he was naked until some clothes were shoved at him without much care. It was tempting not to take them, to shift back into the wolf and run until his paws bled and he couldn't run anymore. Nothing made sense, nothing at all. Maybe this was still Hell and Lucifer was somewhere laughing his ass off. It felt like it. His body was hurting, like he had swallowed wolfsbane which was good, he liked pain, it reminded him that he deserved all this. He dressed and didn't dare to sit down again with how the vet was glowering at him.

Deaton paused in that glaring in favor of putting a hand on the clammy and burning up forehead of the passed out Spark. He murmured something in Gaelic, making his palm light up in a green hue for a few seconds. It's all he could do to keep the fever at bay while Stiles was unconscious. He also checked his pulse, a dissatisfied expression taking over his features since it was still too quick for his liking. The young man's heart was working overtime again.

Part of him wasn't even surprised that the mates got to this point. He was more surprised it took them this long. With still not being the best at communication, Derek's impending insanity and the 'too much, too fast' growing of Stiles' magic, it was to be expected for something like this to happen. No wonder Sparks had the most dangerous legends about them in the books.

"You'll have to resolve this fast," he finally said. "He's weakened by the outburst and sick from the magic and stress on his body. I assume you have no idea just how close he is right now to turning into a darach. I believe it's his sheer force of will that keeps him from doing so, because he knows how to draw from the Nemeton and I suspect he also knows how to tap into the lay lines, even if he didn't do that before. I don't have to tell you why you wouldn't want that to happen," Deaton warned. He'd seen symptoms like this before and felt obliged to warn Derek. Stiles going berserk would have dire consequences and it was in the dark brown eyes which were back on the wolf.

"And that's not my only concern. His recent outburst might draw in... outside complications. The site of the explosion was unfortunately in the local news. Those who can recognize that particular pattern might take interest in checking out an alleged Spark. You have to know by now how rare and valuable someone like your mate can be to certain people."

"I know how close he is to going dark." That was the one thing Derek did know, because it felt nearly like it wasn't Stiles on the bed but Jennifer. She had made glass shatter too and her magic had always felt like this oppressing form pressing against him, making it hard to breathe once she had stopped hiding who she really was. There had been a wrongness to it all and that same kind of scent and feeling was here now too. He hadn't been keen on being used by her to kill people and that didn't change. He wasn't going to let that happen and if it did... well then he probably wasn't going to be part of it for very long. If Stiles turned dark, he'd burn out Derek and then himself.

The problem was, he didn't know how to resolve this. The wolf was barely holding on and now he was killing his mate or turning him dark. He couldn't care about what was coming, when it was too late to prevent the signs that shouldn't have happened in the first place.

"Let them come, they're not going to get him." It wasn't said with anger, it was stating a fact. It was going to get noticed, there was no way around that and for now they had bigger problems, like a dying mate.

"I offered him my arm, he didn't want it. And he needs magic, right? He needs a spark?"

"Yes, that's right." Deaton confirmed though he did so very carefully, not sure what Derek was thinking.

"So I'll give him mine. He thinks I don't love him, that I've lied to him all this time. I'll show him that I'm serious."

"I don't think that's wise to…"

"Does it change the bond and my ability to be his storage if I'm a beta?"

"No."

"Okay." Derek rolled up his sleeves and reached for the chair to put beside the bed. Stiles wanted him to prove it, then he was going to prove it because he had nothing to lose anymore. His mind was being kept together with magical bolts and screws. If Stiles died, he'd die too. If Stiles became a darach, he'd die. What was the use of being an alpha then? That's what the tattoo on his back stood for: he could be an alpha, he could be an omega. It changed, it always changed. He was used to being them all, it didn't matter.

Deaton wasn't sure this was a good idea, but it was still better than letting the sickness and darkness spread further in Stiles, threatening to turn him into an even bigger menace than Jennifer could ever be. Because Stiles was already way stronger than she could ever be simply because Stiles was born a Spark, like his deceased mother. But his potential was bigger than Claudia's was. Both Deaton and his sister knew that. No wonder she was so obsessed with the Stilinski boy nowadays.

The vet sighed and stood back, giving room for Derek to do what thought was best for them to stabilize his dying mate. The druid could feel and see the aimlessly floating residue of magic and the second the alpha got closer, it visibly moved towards him, searching for that connection that was apparently denied from it while Stiles was awake.

Derek didn't waste any more time just simply grabbed the wrist of his unconscious mate and focused on pulling the considerable amount of pain from the weakened human body. The black lines nearly immediately appeared, reaching up to Stiles’ bruised and bandaged shoulder.

The unconscious man unwittingly sighed with relief once the pain eased up in there, making his breathing and heartbeat steadier and also a tiny bit of color returned into his too pale face.

Instinct told Derek to stop when he was taking this much pain from the human, when even his werewolf healing had trouble processing it. Derek had to push himself to get past the instinct, to keep pulling so he could get at the dark poison running through the lithe body.

He hated this, hated how it had gotten to this because he had lashed out in his madness, because he had done damage to his mate with his words to the point that Stiles was dying and the Hale had to give up the alpha spark. Hated how his love would always destroy instead of heal so at least this way he'd finally do something right, this was something he could do without messing it up. He could die, there was that risk but he honestly didn't care anymore about anything. When everything was so utterly and completely in chaos and shards, the last thing Derek would concern himself with was his own life. Gritting his teeth he pushed on, taking too much until he nearly felt himself pass out with the effort.

It was then he felt it, the spark being ripped from him, to pass into Stiles to offer the magic he needed to stabilize. It was only fair since Stiles had given so much of himself and now Derek's turn had come up. Hopefully it was going to be enough, hopefully it was going to buy them the time they needed so Stiles and Derek could... talk? Ha, he'd screw it up even more. It didn't matter. A worry for later.

But of course a strange thing happened when the alpha spark felt like leaving Derek. Because of course things will never be simple with the two of them. Instead of the stirring human's magic accepting it, Stiles' own Spark awakened deep inside. The magic did latch onto the red spark, but it didn't pull it towards the other flame to absorb it. Instead, it was pushed back into the alpha who was ready to sacrifice that power for them to survive.

The magic knew better, though, and it took control over the situation. Stiles' arm with the flaring up rune seemingly moved on its own and latched onto Derek's. The second the connection opened up and magic began rushing from the wolf into the frail body, Stiles' back arched and a groan escaped him. Shimmering amber eyes opened half-way, but Derek couldn't be sure if Stiles was seeing him or not for those few brief moments before they closed again and the younger man's back and body relaxed except for the fingers that were digging into Derek's forearm like a vice.

Deaton's eyes widened for a few seconds from that twist of nature because he'd never seen anything like this before. He could see the magic rushing through the bond and into Stiles' motionless body, filling it and even from his spot he could visibly see the rapid healing that was going on in it. The Spark instinctively did what Stiles would have to in case he was awake, namely, pulling on Derek's healing power to help on the worst injuries of its host.

Fascinating, he thought watching the still red-eyed alpha and his Spark in awe.

It was a whirlwind of everything and Derek wasn't completely sure what was all going on but it helped and Stiles seemed to have a better shot now with the body healed and the magic balanced. It wasn't going to be enough. If he was going to say the wrong things they were going to be right back here and that was terrifying when the health of his mate depended on his fucked up communicating. More terrifying than sitting here and giving whatever Stiles needed to take. This was easy, this was him lending his body.

"Derek?"

Confused he realized he had rested his head on the blanket Stiles was under. When did that happen? Stiles' hand was still clinging to his arm but the runes had stopped glowing. It took a moment for the wolf to see Deaton was talking to him and he hadn't even heard what he was saying, probably nothing important. "I'm fine. How's Stiles?"

The vet didn't give an immediate answer, obviously the alpha wasn't fine if he was passing out like that but he knew better than to pressure for an answer. He was going to be fine, though needed some rest, which he wouldn't take if suggested, some food which wouldn't be accepted so he sighed. "He's fine, sleeping. The danger has passed. For now." With these two it was hard to say what would be happening from now on. "Maybe you can try for some sleep now as well."

"No. I'm good, thank you." The alpha sat up straighter and held onto his mate's hand. Sleeping meant nightmares and flashbacks, and he'd be a mess and they couldn't afford that. So no, he wasn't going to sleep because Stiles needed him to fight for them, needed him to be different. When Alan didn't move yet, he hung his head to take a few deep breaths.

"If you're going to yell at me some more, can you do that in a few hours?" He didn't think he could handle more at the moment. And that was the truth. He was too raw right now, focused on keeping himself together desperately almost. Just a few hours for him to deal with the last days would be nice before more was piled up.

To his relief, Deaton moved away quietly and Derek settled in to wait for Stiles to wake up.

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