Chapter Text
Stiles has a hard time peeling himself off of Derek, but Deaton comes upstairs eventually and says that Stiles needs to begin practicing.
If it’s any consolation, it seems like Derek has an equally difficult time leaving. Deaton reminds Derek that he’s welcome to stay, but Derek ultimately declines.
“I told the pack I’d help this with the preparations. Plus, I think I want to spend some time with Sam before he leaves tomorrow. It feels strange to leave things on bad terms between us.”
Stiles is happy to hear that. He also hopes he gets a chance to talk to Sam. To thank him, maybe.
Derek kisses Stiles on the cheek before he goes. It’s soft and light, and even though Stiles wants a kiss that’s more intimate than that small peck, he knows that he and Derek aren’t perfectly put back together yet. It’ll take time. So, Stiles is still appreciative of this small act of affection on Derek’s part.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Stiles says.
“Stay over tonight,” Derek counters. “If you want to.”
“Yeah. Yeah, sure.” There’s an embarrassing amount of hopefulness in Stiles’ voice.
Then, Derek leaves and Stiles has to get to work.
Spell reversals are difficult, but not impossible, Stiles finds. He practices probably a hundred times with Deaton before the sun sets, with Deaton casting a multitude of different spells such as summoning light, turning a chair invisible, making a book levitate, etc. Reversing spells is similar to how Stiles had unraveled the freezing spell that had backfired on him. Find the weak spot, the end of a string that’s tangled in a seemingly hopeless loop. And then… work backward. The thing is, it’s a lot easier to reverse spells when you know how to do them. Stiles knew how to do a freezing spell, so it was simpler to reverse. Some spells that Deaton performs that night are those that Stiles has never attempted, and they are painstakingly difficult to undo. Stiles doesn’t know the structure of the spell that brought Sam here, so he assumes it’ll be equally as difficult tomorrow.
The one good thing is that Stiles is able to reverse the spell each time, no matter how long it takes. Finally, when Stiles’ brain is mush and Deaton tells him that they can stop, does Stiles ask a question that’s been nagging at his mind.
“Deaton, you’re more advanced than me at this. Why don’t you just do it?”
Deaton raises an eyebrow. “Do you think that you’re incapable?”
“It just seems like it would be easier,” he says, standing up and stretching his tense muscles and tight joints.
“This is me beginning to pass on the mantle,” Deaton says gently. “And giving you the opportunity to prove yourself to your pack.”
Stiles swallows, suddenly feeling nervous. If he fails, does that mean he’ll fail his pack? Fail Derek? Will Deaton have to step in and save the day due to Stiles’ incompetence?
Deaton reads the sudden unease on Stiles face.
“I’ll be there if you need me. But you can do this on your own. I know it. You’ve been learning for only a year and are already far more advanced than Sparks who have been practicing for five years. I have a feeling you’ll be very powerful in the time to come. But you have to trust yourself.”
“Easier said than done,” Stiles mumbles.
Deaton gives a thin-lipped smile. “Go to sleep. Get a lot of rest, and don’t perform any spells until the ritual takes place to preserve your energy.”
Stiles drives home, packs a bag of clothes, and tells his dad that he’ll probably be gone for at least two days. Then, he drives over to Derek’s apartment.
___________________
The door swings open before Stiles has a chance to knock. He’s used to it since almost everyone he spends a significant amount of time with has supernatural hearing. Boyd is the one who opens the door and steps aside to let Stiles in.
“Hey,” Stiles says, waving in greeting. He sees that Isaac and Erica are also there. “Is this a pack hang-out night? Sleeping over?”
Boyd shakes his head. “Just having dinner here and then heading home.” He inclines his head toward the kitchen where Stiles sees the back of a figure that could be either Sam or Derek.
Stiles drops his bag off of his shoulder and heads into the kitchen. The figure turns toward him, and the familiar face spreads out in a small grin. Stiles stands there, uncertain for a second because the worry lines indicate that this is Derek, but the smile on the man’s face seems like it belongs to Sam.
Then, the man steps forward, planting a light kiss on Stiles’ lips without hesitation, and Stiles knows it’s Derek. He relaxes a bit, eyeing Derek thoughtfully as he goes back to cooking.
He’s tempted to comment on Derek’s slightly upbeat mood but ultimately decides not to, lest he shatter it.
“Where’s Sam?” Stiles asks, looking around the apartment. He doesn’t see Derek’s doppelganger anywhere.
“Napping. He was really tired… and he mentioned that he missed his bed.”
Stiles feels his eyes widen in surprise. “You gave him your bed?”
“It’s technically his bed, too,” Derek says, shrugging. “Plus, I got the chance to talk with him today. He’s not too bad.”
Stiles rolls his eyes. “Duh, he’s you,” he comments jokingly. “What did you two talk about?”
Derek’s motions slow in the midst of him stirring pasta sauce. “Stuff.” Then, a second later, he adds, “You came up a lot.”
Stiles lets out a nervous laugh. “What, were you two bonding over how amazing I am?” he jokes, blinking his eyes in exaggerated bashfulness.
Derek’s eyes soften. “Partly, yeah.”
Stiles’ blush isn’t feeling so feigned anymore. He coughs around the sudden lump in his throat.
“Do you need any help?” he asks after realizing that he’s been fidgeting nervously. He needs something else to do with his hands. Derek gets him set up with a cutting board, a knife, and some onions. Stiles has to admit that he almost nicks himself a few times, mostly because he his gaze keeps gravitating towards Derek. The alpha’s shoulders are a little less tense, and he’s humming a tune as he cooks. He seems… not overtly happy. But content.
When dinner is almost done, Sam makes an emergence- rubbing at his sleepy eyes with his hair all tousled. His expression brightens when he sees Stiles.
“How did the practicing go with Deaton?” Sam asks as Stiles grabs plates from the cabinet. Stiles shrugs, keeping his expression neutral. He doesn’t want everyone to know just how nervous and uncertain he is about what he needs to do tomorrow.
“Deaton says I’m ready.” Not an outright lie, so there’s no false note in his voice. Sam smiles, and Stiles makes himself smile back even as his anxiety crests to extreme levels.
He thinks that Derek and Sam can tell subconsciously that Stiles is feeling off, because they keep giving him slightly concerned looks throughout the dinner. And they also keep looking at each other meaningfully.
Stiles tries to act like everything is normal, but he doesn’t think that he does a great job of it.
When the rest of the pack leaves and Stiles, Derek, and Sam are alone, Derek is the first to speak.
“Are you okay?”
Stiles pastes on a smile. “Yeah, of course.” He begins collecting their empty plates and ignores their stares as he walks into the kitchen and places the dishes in the sink. Stiles hears low voices as they begin talking to each other, but he works hard to ignore that too by turning the faucet on full blast and beginning to wash the dishes.
Finally, when he’s on his last plate, he feels more than hears someone enter the kitchen. Stiles dries off his hands and turns around, expecting to find Derek but seeing Sam instead. He can tell it’s Sam, because his t-shirt is still wrinkled and rumbled from his earlier nap.
“Hey, Sam,” Stiles says, trying to project calmness as he leans against the counter and folds his arms. “What’s up?”
“Can we talk?”
Stiles shrugs and Sam comes closer.
“It seems like something’s bothering you.”
Stiles grimaces, hating how easy he is to read. “I’m just tired. Long day.”
Sam simply watches him for a few long seconds, and Stiles tries not to feel scrutinized under his gaze. It’s kind of impossible. He feels like Sam knows him. Maybe not quite as well as Derek, but almost. Or maybe Sam just knows a different side of him.
“You seem anxious,” Sam says. Stiles huffs out a small laugh.
“That obvious?”
“Not really… Boyd, Isaac, and Erica didn’t seem to notice. But they don’t know you like we do.”
Stiles eyes Sam carefully. “No offense, but why are you here talking to me and not Derek?”
“Because I feel like the problem that you’re worrying about is magic related.” Stiles clenches his hands into fists as Sam continues talking. “And if that’s the case, then I have more experience helping you with that kind of stuff than Derek does.”
“You mean that you have more experience helping your Stiles.”
“Right.”
Stiles sighs. “You mean your amazing spectacular boyfriend who’s a super powerful badass? I have a feeling that our problems won’t be the same.”
Sam frowns, his dark eyebrows pulling together in a way that makes him look exactly like Derek. Stiles is almost sorry for putting that expression on Sam’s face.
“You two are more similar than you are different,” Sam says. “You both get lost in your heads and start doubting yourselves.”
Stiles looks away, unclenching his hands and dropping his arms.
“I don’t know if I can do it,” he admits in a small voice. “Everyone’s counting on me. Deaton says this is my chance to prove myself to the pack, but I don’t know if I can send you back to your universe.”
“Why do you think you can’t?” Sam asks. “Earlier, you told me that Deaton said you were ready.”
“I think he’s putting too much faith in my abilities,” Stile mutters. “And if I can’t do it, he’s going to have to do the spell for me. And that’ll just prove to everyone that I’m a failure. That I’m not an important part of this pack.”
The words flow out of Stiles easily now- a blend of fears that he’s been keeping inside for way too long.
“I feel useless. I can’t keep feeling this way while everyone else risks their lives. It’s driving me crazy. But if I can’t do the reversal spell tomorrow, then…” he can’t finish this sentence because he knows Derek’s within earshot.
If he isn’t successful tomorrow, then he’ll see the doubt in Derek’s eyes. Derek won’t let him take down any more creatures in Beacon Hills. Stiles will continue to be excluded from pack meetings and he’ll never get another chance to prove himself.
Even though Stiles can’t say the words aloud, Sam seems to be able to read it in his face.
The werewolf nods in understanding.
“You have to trust yourself,” Sam says, echoing Deaton’s earlier words of encouragement.
“That’s easier said than done,” Stiles says, repeating his earlier response to Deaton.
Sam smiles, genuine light radiating through his eyes. “That’s exactly what Stiles said during a similar situation like this- years ago. He was just as nervous as you are right now.”
“I doubt it.”
Sam walks a few steps closer, his next words coming out urgently. “Stiles… he wasn’t always as powerful as he is now. No Spark is just born powerful. It’s something that happens over time with a lot of hard work. You’ll get there. I know it.”
Stiles tries to believe Sam’s words. He really does.
“But,” and the next word, he whispers. “Derek…”
That’s when the kitchen door swings open, and Derek himself makes an appearance. Stiles quickly shuts his mouth, but he feels like the damage is done. Derek’s already advancing toward him, and Stiles isn’t sure what his boyfriend is going to do. What he isn’t expecting is for Derek to wrap his arms around him and pull him into a hug. It’s tight and makes it a little hard for Stiles to breathe, but he sinks into it willingly- his bones turning into metaphorical goo as he closes his eyes and inhales Derek’s comforting scent.
Then, his eyes fly open as the embrace intensifies and he sees that Sam has also come over to hug Stiles. One big puppy pile with Stiles squished in the middle.
He might be in heaven. He thinks he’s getting a little too emotional and has to blink back those annoying tears.
“I don’t want you to ever think that I’ll react badly to something you do wrong,” Derek says, his words smooshed and muffled from the hug. “I want to support you in everything you do. And I want you to know that you can lean on me whenever you need to.”
Okay well, Stiles is incapable of suppressing his waterworks now. The tears are flowing freely, but he thinks that they’re happy tears this time.
“Thank you,” Stiles says meaningfully. “Both of you.”
He still has some anxiety about tomorrow, but… he feels less alone. And he feels supported. And loved.
When Derek and Sam finally disentangle themselves, Stiles is smiling.
__________________
The next day is beautiful- sunny with a light breeze- like this universe has decided that Sam deserves a proper farewell.
It’s the afternoon and the whole pack is here, as is Deaton. But he’s standing on the outskirts of the group and giving Stiles the space and time to do the spell on his own.
Stiles sinks to the grown, right in front of the spot that’s still black and singed from the donum’s death a few days ago. He places his hands over the area, feeling the faint vibrations- like a magical echo. This is what Deaton didn’t want disturbed.
Stiles can sense the spell that he’d used to banish the donum. And he can sense the spell that the donum’s death had casted- the one that brought Sam here. The donum’s magic is different from any that Stiles has encountered before.
That make him anxious.
It’s like… all of his spells and his knowledge of magic is in English. And the donum’s magic is written in Arabic. Completely foreign, but clearly a language of some sort.
“This might take a while,” Stiles says, looking at Sam and then at Derek. They both give him encouraging looks.
“We have time,” Sam says encouragingly. “Don’t worry about rushing.”
Stiles nods, breathing in and out slowly to steady himself. He closes his eyes to block out all distractions and gets to work.
When Stiles opens his eyes again, the sun is lower in the sky. A lot of time has passed, he thinks. He blinks against the light, looks around and finds Sam and Derek sitting next to each other a few feet away. The rest of the pack is strewn around, talking quietly in the slowly fading sunlight. They’re all surrounding him- protecting him.
The thought makes him feel warm and safe.
“I think I’ve got it,” Stiles says softly. They all turn to look at him. Sam stands up.
“Really?” he asks. “You’re close?”
Stiles nods. “All I have to do to reverse the spell now is make another wish. A wish to send you home.”
His voice sounds sad to his own ears, and he can see his sadness mirrored in Sam’s eyes. But there’s also happiness there, too. Sam is excited to go home, rightfully so.
“I’m going to miss you,” Stiles says. “Thank you for everything.”
Sam nods, smiling. The sunlight hits his face just right then, making it look like he’s illuminated from within. “I hope I remember all of this when I get back to my universe.”
Stiles laughs even as he feels his eyes get damp. “You better remember me. Say hi to your Stiles for me, okay?”
Sam grins. “He’ll be so jealous that I got to go to an alternate universe.”
“Sounds just like me,” Stiles responds knowingly, laughing again as he stands up so he and Sam are almost at eye level. Stiles sees Derek stand up too and walk over to them.
“Thank you, Sam,” Derek says. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t so welcoming when you first appeared.”
Sam shrugs easily. “All is forgiven. Take care of him,” he says, gesturing to Stiles. “And remember what I told you.”
“I will,” Derek says.
Stiles reaches forward to hug Sam one last time before reluctantly pulling away.
“You take care of Derek, too,” Sam says to Stiles. “He needs you as much as you need him.”
Stiles nods slowly as Sam’s words sink in.
“Yeah, I will.”
Stiles makes the wish quickly before he can chicken out or second guess himself.
I wish for Sam to safely return to his rightful universe.
Almost immediately, right before his eyes, Sam’s form goes translucent. Stiles blinks, and Sam is gone completely.
There one second, only empty space the next.
“I really hope that he remembers us,” Stiles says to no one in particular. He sighs.
“So do I,” Derek responds, pulling him in close and placing a kiss on his forehead.
___________________
~ Two years later ~
Stiles lunges to the side, narrowly escaping sharp claws and sharper teeth.
“What is this thing?” Stiles shouts, unnecessarily projecting his voice so that Derek- only a few feet away- will hear him. Granted, he’s in a heightened state of emotion, so yelling comes more naturally to him.
“I’m not sure,” Derek growls, half shifted so his pointed canine teeth muffle his words. He’s on the other side of the creature, knees bent and ready to launch.
The creature tilts its head, looking at Stiles with cold, black pits instead of eyes. He shivers.
Since Sam had left, Derek’s been a lot more open to the idea of Stiles hunting dangerous monsters. He’s gotten much stronger because of it.
But he’s never seen anything like this before.
Stiles racks his brain, trying to think back to all the books in Deaton’s library.
The creature darts forward, and Stiles throws up an invisible shield. It bounces backward and screeches in rage. The sound is piercing. Stiles flinches, reaching up to cover his ears.
To him, the sound is just highly annoying. But to Derek, it seems to be debilitating. The werewolf drops, clamping his hands tightly over his ears and scrunching his face against the pain.
“Stiles!” Derek roars, trying to get back on his feet. Seeing Derek in pain feeds the flame that’s been slowly growing brighter in Stiles every day.
He feels power surge through his body- a scary amount of power. He’s never felt this much before all at once. Stiles raises his hands, aiming it at the creature and then… he lets it all loose.
Bolts of golden electricity shoot from his fingertips, hitting the monster square in the chest with a satisfying sizzle. The creature’s screams of agony soon replace Derek’s earlier shouts of pain.
A few seconds later, the creature burst into flames. Its screams continue- but only for a few more moments before it completely disintegrates into a pile of ash.
Stiles cuts his power off, dropping his hands. He smiles weakly as he sways on his feet. Then, suddenly the ground is super close. Way too close.
Derek catches him right before Stiles’ body makes contact with the rocky floor.
“Are you alright?” Derek asks, frantically patting Stiles down for injuries.
Stiles nods, lighting pushing Derek’s anxious hands away. “Yeah, that just took a lot out of me. I’ll be fine.”
“Stiles,” Derek begins, his voice and eyes filled with awe. “I’ve never seen you do anything like that.”
“I’ve never done anything like that,” Stiles responds, laughing lightly. “That was insane.”
Derek smiles, brushing Stiles’ sweaty bangs to the side, before saying, “Sam was right.”
Stiles arches an eyebrow. “Right about what? What did he say?”
“That you would become more powerful than I could imagine. And you would be able to take care of yourself. He said that I wouldn’t have to worry so much about you anymore.”
Stiles begins to feel warmth radiate from his chest.
“But you’ll still worry about me a little bit, won’t you?” Stiles asks, lips turning up in a half-smile.
“I only worry about the things I’m afraid to lose,” Derek responds, “So, yes. But… now I know that you’ll be okay.”
Stiles reaches up, wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss.
They begin the long trek back to Derek’s car once Stiles feels stable enough to walk. Derek stays close to him, holding his hand the whole way.
Stiles looks down at their conjoined hands and finds himself thinking about Sam. The day after Sam left, Derek and Stiles had a long discussion- both admitting their faults. But also talking about what they each needed for their relationship to be successful.
Stiles needed some freedom.
Derek needed more emotional support. He’s gotten better at asking for it, too. But Stiles has also been taking it upon himself to read Derek’s mood and body language and give him care and attention even if Derek doesn’t outright ask for it.
Stiles thinks about how different their relationship is now compared to how it was two years ago. Their love has grown more than Stiles thought possible. They’re also a lot closer. Derek asked Stiles to move in with him about six months after Sam left.
Stiles sometimes thinks that the donum did grant his wish, just not in the way he expected. It took a while, but Derek is happier. And that makes Stiles happy, too.
He hopes that Sam and Sam’s version of Stiles are equally as happy together.
And he sends a thought to Sam, hoping somewhere, somehow, that this other version of Derek will receive his message.
Thank you.