Note: This is the 17th part of the “Home Is Where the Spark Is” series. To understand better what’s going on, we recommend reading the previous entries. Enjoy!

Fandoms: Teen Wolf, Sterek

Characters/relationships: Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale, Chris Argent, Alan Deaton, Claudia Stilinski

Rating/category: supernatural, post-Teen Wolf, canon and non-canon elements, slash, M/M, Sterek, aged up characters, Spark Stiles, Magic Stiles, Emissary Stiles, Emissary in training Stiles, detective Stiles, matured Stiles, Alpha Derek, epic romance, love, magic, soulmates, Mate bond, Emissary bond, werewolves, emotions, fighting, ghosts, depression, PTSD, trauma, fears, self-blame, healing from injuries, anger, panic attack, emotional, hurt/comfort, werewolf lore

Summary: Derek’s fear of Stiles’ magical fire causes more tension between the mates and the Spark thinks he found the only way to solve that problem. Will he manage to go through with that dangerous ritual or will someone stop him?

Disclaimer: This is a product of our imagination and was written only for entertainment and fun. We don’t profit from this fanfiction and we mean no harm or disrespect against any real person, culture or custom that might appear in the story. All original pictures or edits and fictional characters used in the story belong to their respective owners and credit goes to them.

Marcianca edit

Home Is Where the Spark Is
By Just Jim & Useless-girl

17: Relight My Fire – Part 1

The awkwardness didn’t fade the next day, something happened between them since the rise of the magic, when it had chosen to depict as a large burning phoenix. No matter how hard Derek had tried in the moment to ignore the fear it had evoked within, Stiles somehow knew and it was as if they were tiptoeing around it. Because the human didn’t want to trigger the still healing alpha and the werewolf didn’t want to trigger the recovering Spark. It wasn’t ideal.

Derek had woken up on the table, groggy and stiff due to the still healing wounds. Chris had attempted to make it less like a dead man on a table by covering his lower half with a blanket. At that time Stiles was still sleeping, and he hadn’t known at first what had woken him up until he realized it was Argent messing with the wound on his leg, or so it felt, because when he blinked a few times, he realized it was being cleaned.

“You should get a shower now that you’re awake before you go back in your werewolf coma. And with should I mean do it,” Argent told him, helping him off the table, holding him before his face could greet the floor.

Sluggishly Derek let himself be dragged to the bathroom, too out of it to complain and not even sure if this was really happening. The shower ended up being him in the tub after his pants had been cut off and Chris cleaning him with the water. There were words thrown his way, words he didn’t understand as he blinked a few times, his head lolling to the side. It was the last thing he knew because the next time he opened his eyes, he was in bed and there were bandages and he was very naked under the sheet. Stiles wasn’t next to him but when he moved his hand to reach the empty spot, there was still warmth lingering.

Then he was out again, sometimes getting glimpses of a sleeping form curled up next to him or fingers gently putting on cream to the wounds. When he woke again, the sun was on his face, the window was cracked open a little and birds were singing loudly, the bed was empty again. Derek had no idea how much time had passed in total, but he didn’t feel like he was in healing stage anymore. There was some pain as he moved, stitches pulling at his skin but it could have been a lot worse, considering. Peeking under the bandages, he couldn’t help but make a face, it still looked bad, although it felt a lot better on the inside and his leg didn’t protest at all. So that was mostly healed. Oh hey, he wasn’t naked anymore, somebody had put his underwear on. The taste in his mouth came close to a sewage. He probably had puked up some of the damaged bits his body had discarded and healed. He should have warned Stiles about that, but maybe the Spark hadn’t been witness to it and didn’t have a freak out.

Sliding out of bed like an old man, the Hale shuffled over to the main area of the loft. It had been a while since he had been hurt like this. He had almost forgotten how it made him feel, which was why he had always been alone in the past, because there was nothing pretty about a healing wolf.

“Stiles?” Wow, his voice sounded unused and rough. He had to know his mate was relatively okay.

It was late afternoon by then, but the sun was still high enough to bathe the loft in its rays. Stiles has been asleep since he had quite literally fainted into bed and only woke up a couple of times, once forcing himself to take a shower. He felt more awake around an hour ago so he carefully moved around despite the protesting of his body. Chris needed proof that he's not going to collapse before the druid managed to talk him into going home to rest – and probably update his dad about their condition.

Stiles had seen the few text messages left on his phone about how things were on the sheriff's end and asking how they were doing. He probably didn't call because both of them were out cold. He texted him back a little while ago to put Noah's mind somewhat at ease, although he knew it was probably not going to happen any time soon.

The rogue alpha in town called for emergency measures and a couple of plans to be drawn up to defend themselves – and maybe, just maybe, even drive him out of town. They didn't need this complication at all, but here they were. They had to deal with this situation too.

Stiles downed his Adderall with an energy drink and ate a banana to both hydrate himself and get something into his growling stomach. He couldn't look at food, but his body needed the sustenance after overusing the magic. It clearly took a lot out of them, but like always, Stiles focused more on others than himself. He had put together a few sandwiches for the two of them in the kitchen and just finished packing things away when he felt his nose starting to bleed again. Not a good sign.

They had to do the balancing soon – whether Derek liked it or not to be so close to magic again – because Stiles' own healing was apparently too slow. He went to the bathroom to deal with the bleeding and drank a few potions from the stash to speed up his healing and feel less like a beaten up old man when he felt Derek waking up and moving around.

He quickly washed the remains of the blood away at the sink and dried his face with a towel before heading outside. "I'm here. Still alive and kicking," he walked into the living area with more confidence in his steps than how he felt. He felt... thin. Too fragile. And he hated it. "You look better," he glimpsed at the thankfully blood-less bandages. "I sent Chris home to rest and made some sandwiches for us. We should eat. Sit down on the couch. I'll bring them over on a tray," he said, already carefully on the move. Eating on the kitchen table was out of the question. Chris did a great job with cleaning it as much as possible, but it reeked of bleach and cleaning stuff.

Actually, Stiles should be the one to sit down on the couch while Derek went to get the sandwiches but Stiles was already on his way to the kitchen, shuffling like he could use a walker or a few more days of bed rest. If he looked as bad as the human, then looking better wasn't much of a compliment at this point. The smell of bleach was all around them, which made him look to the floor, the bloodless floor. He should get Argent a gift like a bottle of whiskey for all the work he had done cleaning up Derek's blood. The man wasn't even part of the pack.

There was a nervous energy around Stiles, even all the way over here, and Derek knew it was because of him. The Spark was barely keeping himself together, probably had told Chris to go home too soon. Because he didn't want others to take care of him and would rather needlessly struggle by himself. He was a lot like Derek in that way and it wasn't always the healthiest way to cope. Gingerly, the Hale lowered himself on the couch, restlessly drumming his fingers because he wanted to shoo Stiles out of the kitchen. They didn't need sandwiches, they could just as well order in or eat some simple things not requiring any kind of preparation. However, if he ate, Stiles might eat too so there was that.

"I'm okay, you know, I'm fine. So how about I take care of you?" he called out, because it was the blind leading the cripple anyways at this point and he was the werewolf in this all, which meant he could handle more. Why did everything they do feel like they take five steps forwards and then ten backwards? The tension between them was getting familiar – first the rut causing damage, then Stiles exploding because of Derek's trauma from getting his soul back. They had something bad happen, it ended up with them healing and they'd be right here.

Rubbing his eyes with a groan, Derek shook off the feeling of being watched. Stiles had made sure to make the loft inaccessible to most ghosts, because Derek had gotten tired of being eyeballed all the time. So he couldn't be watched, there was no way somebody could be here.

"We both are far from okay or fine, but I hope we'll get there. Let's just eat these first then you can take care of me, okay?" Stiles offered kinda like a compromise to ease the worrying eyes of his mate on him. Yeah, he could feel those on him clearly.

In a minute or two he was back and sat down with some uncomfortable flinches and put the tray between them. At that point his stomach was grumbling loudly and he took a big bite to quiet it and maybe also so that his quietness wouldn't be so obvious. Not that he could fool Derek. They had to talk about things, even if he was kinda scared of that.

"Your wounds are healing well compared to how they looked yesterday. How are you feeling? Still 'heal-stupid'?" he asked in-between two bites, finally really looking at his mate.

Fingers plucked at the bread, giving off the idea of picking it up at some point to bite into but he was mostly buying time so Stiles would eat. Food was the last thing on his mind at the moment, would probably wait until tomorrow when he knew for sure it was all healed up inside. His body was efficient and the stitches had helped putting it all back together nicely, still, he wasn't sure if he wanted bowel movements yet. And that wasn't something he was going to mention when his mate was eating. Stiles had a vivid imagination and didn't need those kinds of pictures in his head after witnessing it yesterday.

"I'm fine, I won't need any healing sleep anymore, the rest will heal on its own." Not needing that deep intense stage anymore. Regular sleep and rest would take care of it and once the skin would itch, he could remove the stitches so the final irregularities would heal as well. He met the gaze full on, since it had been avoided before, as if looking at Derek fully would set things off. Stiles was avoiding it, trying to make small talk which only made it sound forced and empty. Something also letting the Hale know just how little energy the other had left if he couldn't even keep up with this kind of talk.

He pulled at a crust of bread. "You look as I feel so..." So he was hoping for some kind of start on whatever they had to talk about, anything to stop Stiles from looking like a kicked puppy.

Stiles wasn't stupid even in his state. He had noticed how Derek wasn't really eating just toying with the food. But he didn't argue. Not this time. Derek knew best what was good for a healing werewolf body with the injuries he had now. And besides... not that Stiles wouldn't care, that wasn't the case at all... he felt just so... tired. Tired from always having to deal with some shit that usually hit the proverbial fan. Tired of the tension between them which it often caused. But most of all, tired of being the reason himself for being in this situation. Because this was on him. His mate was hurt because of him... of what he was. There was that moment when his mate... feared him again. Stronger than at the animal clinic when he was practicing with the elements and produced a small flame on his palm. And Stiles couldn't blame Derek. This time... the fire was on a very much bigger scale.

"How do you feel about... feeling the magic in you again? So soon after..." After it transformed into a friggin' phoenix... "We'll need to balance soon. Not sure how you feel about that or how healed you are for that," he mumbled, looking back at his sandwich somewhat guiltily again. Because yeah, Stiles wasn't even sure if Derek wanted them to touch at this point.

There was no hiding the reaction it caused in Derek when the magic was mentioned. The flinch was as physical as it was emotional, his hand stilling on the sandwich while his heart nearly dropped to his stomach at the idea. It was stupid, it made sense Stiles needed to get more magic in him because of the big chunk the large spell had him use up. Too much would wear him out as much as too little did. This ritual was part of them now, it kept Stiles healthy but more importantly, it kept him alive so why was this even a point of tentative discussion?

Because you’re afraid.

And that's why his mate looked like he did, the guilt he felt for subjecting Derek to it when he had promised to keep him safe. It would be so easy to look Stiles in the eye and say he was ready for it, it was no big deal. But it would be a lie, a complete and total lie. It frustrated Derek to no end. Parrish was a hellhound, Stiles was a mage, fire was part of them and their alpha couldn't even deal with something so important to them, it made him feel impotent. Like a bad alpha and worse, like a terrible mate.

It was just fire, the fear should be irrational, except... it wasn't. His family died because of fire, he had been repeatedly tortured with fire, died many times burned alive in Hell. Fire reminded him of blackened skin and burning flesh, the sound and stench of hair as it melted away, the screams of tormented throats, the heat of pain so deep it was like being boiled. Stiles reminded him of that. That part was irrational. That part wasn't true. Stiles' fire didn't hurt him, not like that, but he had seen it could hurt, he had been engulfed by it.

His breathing hitched. Yeah, he wasn't ready, but he had to be. "We can do it, you need it."

"Yeah... but I'd rather not force it on you. I know how you feel about... fire. How you... fear it." And me right now, he thought. "Not that it'd manifest this time. We did the balancing quite a few times now, you know how it goes. I'm depleted and hurting and not healing this time. So yeah, I'd need to draw some from you to balance it out before another surge or quick buildup might happen in me," Stiles laid it all out, no sugarcoating, his voice sad and tired.

Derek fearing him made his soul and heart ache with more pain than what his physical body felt, but he didn't point that out. He wasn't strong enough to try and hide it from his mate. Derek would feel it similarly like Stiles felt the wolf's pain the day before and now the fear and near panic that was caused only from the mention of magic and the need to touch to do the balancing. Because yes, a mate not wanting to touch his other half was a painful thought.

Stiles' appetite was lost on him and he was just staring at his half-eaten sandwich with a churning stomach. "I'm sorry. For... what I am. For having to do this. For causing these problems because of the Spark in me. I didn't mean any of this to happen. To make you... fear me. To constantly dreading that I might go dark. Because yeah, it was there in me again. That pull. That urge to kill that bastard for hurting you. And I hate myself more because of that. But I hate the idea of forcing you now even more," he whispered barely audible, his body sagged and reflecting the defeat he felt. He wanted to help Derek over his fear, but he couldn't. Didn't know how to help. If he could ever help in that. To get over the fact that his life was tied to the very same element that had caused him so much pain in the past.

They were in a very difficult situation. It was once again a reminder that they never had been ready for these kinds of bonds even though their compatibility had decided for them. Derek hadn't doubted his feelings for Stiles, not even once, but he had doubted their readiness to be together in this way. Their brokenness didn't balance itself out, if anything, it made it worse. In situations like these, they didn't have the healthy ground to fall back on. They only had their inexperience and trauma to guide them. Instead of Stiles feeling anchored by Derek, he had to deal with this mess. He had warned Stiles, told him that a life with Derek wasn't going to be sunshine and rainbows. They both had been too caught up in their feelings to approach it with logic, which they now paid the price for.

"You won't go dark. That was the Nogitsune, not you. The darkness left is not you and you will go far, yes. You will have urges you will call dark but you won't ever turn into a darach." Was killing a life to protect another really that questionable? They weren't killers, they didn't enjoy killing, they did it when they had to. They enjoyed violence, there was a difference. "I know you. I don't fear you becoming her. I don't fear you." He took a deep breath. "I fear what your magic represents, the memories it brings. At the moment I can separate it." But not when it happened, he tried, he did. And he didn't want to be the one to make his mate suffer because his head was broken and had trouble dealing.

"You are the way you are because of me, because I'm not the strong anchor you're supposed to be able to fall back on. This is not on you."

Almost out of habit, Derek wanted to roll up his sleeve but he was only in underwear so he glanced at his arm stupidly before holding it out with the rune turned up. So he wasn't ready but it wasn't exactly forcing him if he chose to want to do it instead of letting the injured man hurt longer. It was a risk but the first time they had done it, he hadn't known what it was he said yes to and it went fine. "I want you to do it and no matter how it feels, keep going. I don't want to lose you because of my fear." It was a life or death situation soon enough if they didn't do this. The damage it would do was worry for later. "I love you, so..." he held up his arm in the right position.

"Love you too..." Stiles whispered only that and finally nodded, even if he didn't agree with everything Derek was saying. Because yes, there was a dark part in Stiles which had nothing to do with the Nogitsune. Maybe not even with the Nemeton's darkness. But he didn't comment on that. The situation was dark enough, no need to add more to Derek's worries and fears. It was enough that the fire in him triggered Derek's horrifying memories.

Stiles was too tired and low both emotionally and energy-wise to argue. Derek offered his arm bravely despite the unease that came through the bonds. Maybe his mate was right and they weren't ready for this at all. Maybe never will.

The runes lit up and started their usual burning when they touched and Stiles could feel the magic moving on its own. No need for a chanting or spell anymore. They were way beyond that at this point. He closed his eyes when the connection was set and reminded himself that he had to stay in control, to reluctantly tug on the reserved magic and some healing threads in his mate. The magic waited only for that and began washing through them like some warm waves. Not forcefully, more like a calm sea licking at the shore. Its amount was a lot less after using up so much to chase the enemy away, but it was working.

The healing started slower than usual, though, probably because it's been at work to repair Derek's body. Stiles only opened his glowing eyes then to look at his mate, to check if it was okay, if he was okay from him tugging on those red threads he needed for his human body to heal.

It was familiar, the way the warm waves crawled over to Derek, barely more than a scorch since there wasn't much left, enough to connect them and reach for what it needed within Derek. It was almost too careful, as if it was sensing the unease happening and attempted to make the experience less connected. Or it was because the werewolf was busy keeping his eyes closed, his breathing under control and his heartbeat slow enough not to alarm Stiles. This is fine, this is Stiles, this is needed, it is fine. It was a mantra he kept repeating while tendrils connected with his healing and used some of it after a moment. Because his body was still healing, and it needed to divide its attention. Derek had to urge the healing to flow towards his mate because it was reluctant to do it.

His healing wasn't Stiles' healing so it couldn't sense how badly the human body needed it, even though Derek knew it was important to let his mate take as much as he required. The intense usage of magic had done a number on the Spark so it was no wonder Stiles had been walking around like a zombie. A part of the alpha worried about the lack of protest which had been put up initially, the depressed vibes lingering there because the human had been too tired to even bother. That was on him, that was Derek's fault.

Gritting his teeth, he was only more determined to make this work. They were connected, every freak out would be felt, every thought of fear would be noticed. So in his despair he started pushing it all towards Stiles, to give him his healing, to give him the magic that was left. Almost like he was pushing all of his jewelry to a robber to avoid getting shot. A 'take it and leave' kind of effort. It was wrong, it was so wrong so he immediately tried to apologize through their bond and giving more of himself.

Yeah, it was clear through the bonds that both of them were going around in circles again regarding self-blame. A "shocking" surprise. Even after everything it seemed they still couldn't step past that. It was... saddening. But not as much as the way Derek was on the brink of panicking and shoved the healing and magic at him, as if wanting to just get over with this quickly.

It made Stiles shudder and his fingers flex on Derek's forearm. He felt the apologetic vibes nearly right after the strong wrongness and he nearly lost his already shot concentration. But quickly closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to more or less ground himself and control the fluctuation of both the magic and the healing. Getting lammed by them would cause more harm than good, and besides... Stiles didn't want to take too much from either. That would only fuck up the balance even more and make Derek feel sick. He had suffered enough already.

So with that in mind, Stiles stomped down on the need to start crying – he could do that later perhaps – and did his duty: controlled the process. He didn't drag it out, though. The moment he felt he was going to be okay, he broke the connection and pulled back, rubbing at his still slightly glowing and burning rune. Other times he felt satisfied and grounded, literally in more balance. Now he just wasn't in physical pain anymore. Just some dull aches in his joints here and there. He could live with that until the next balancing, which will be to give back once the magic was too built up for his body to handle it – or from a possible surge the overuse might trigger in him. Hopefully neither would happen for a few days. He could feel that Derek wasn't fully healed yet and he hated the thought that with this he had slowed down the wolf's healing.

"Thanks. This'll be enough for a while. Do you... want me to... change your bandages and treat your wounds with the balms?" he asked so very unsure and tempted to close off from Derek. Which he had sworn never to do. Do you even want me to touch you? He wanted to ask that, but it sat in his throat like a huge lump around which Stiles could barely swallow.

They were probably acting stupid again. It was kinda their theme.

The balancing hadn't done much 'balancing', it had done what had been needed for Stiles to be mostly healed and to have some more energy from the magic Derek had. And when his mate pulled away, there was this sense of wrongness lingering, the scent of unshed tears and sadness coming from the human. It felt like Stiles wanted to hide, crawl into himself or flee being near Derek. These were all emotions the wolf didn't know how to react to, didn't know what the right way was when it all felt so incredibly off. Looking down at the food barely touched, he knew that focusing on tasks would be a good way to attempt some normalcy between them.

Next part

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