Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf.

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Stiles wakes up with a gasp, freezing to the bone, and sees Deaton standing over him with a concerned look on his face.

"Doc? What're you doing here?"

"Derek called me when you didn't wake up yesterday morning. You've been under the warlock's spell for quite some time, Mr. Stilinski. Do you remember anything?"

Stiles licks his lips, frowning as he tries to think. He sits up slowly, realises that Derek's waking up in the bathtub next to him, gasping and looking like a drowned rat, but they're both alive and awake, and even though they're freezing, Stiles can't think of a better thing to be right now. Derek grins at him, looking a little tired, and Deaton waits patiently for an answer.

"The warlock... He fought me and Derek in the preserve. My trees - I used them to literally pull him apart at the end."

"And the crows?" Deaton asks, a little sharply.

Stiles frowns. "How do you know about those?"

Deaton nods down to Stiles' arms and chest. The tree branches that cover his arms are littered with tens - maybe even hundreds - of cages, each one filled with birds. Stiles stands up, legs weak and shaking, and walks over to the bathroom mirror to look for himself. His fingers clutch the edge of the basin, knuckles almost white. There's a number of cages that are still open, the birds flying down into the cages and the door closing behind them. Some of the birds are actually disintegrating, reforming the branches and leaves that they'd broken only a day before. The birds are his now, Stiles knows that just as surely as he knows that his leaves are part of his magic, and he grins a little.

In the reflection of the mirror, he sees Derek stand out of the bathtub and accept the towel that Deaton passes to him. His clothes are dripping wet, his hair plastered down to his face, and even as Stiles stares, he can see the multiple triskelions starting to fade, disappearing until they're needed again. Derek almost looks sad to see them go.

"The crows were the warlock's first line of attack. I caged them in the trees so they wouldn't hurt Derek after he practically tore the guy's arm off. Then the warlock brought out a lion, and once he'd healed his arm, I realised I had more control over the dream than I realised, and used the grass to immobilise his lion, and then the tree to hold him."

"He threatened to kill us all, to make you watch, and then he'd kill you for your power too. That's what made you snap and kill him, isn't it?" Derek asks curiously.

"Yeah, like I was going to let that bastard kill everyone. If I wouldn't let myself as the nogitsune kill everyone, I sure as fuck wasn't going to let some stranger do it!"

"That logic, Mr. Stilinski, is probably something you'll need to talk to a counsellor about. Have you heard from my sister lately?" Deaton asks, his tone somewhere between amused and worried.

Stiles doesn't really feel surprised or annoyed at the response; it's one he's had far too often lately, and he's starting to expect it rather than dread it. Perhaps it's good, perhaps not, but if he's making jokes - even morbid ones like that - surely that's not an awful thing?

"Haven't heard from Ms. Morrell in a while; you wouldn't happen to have her contact number, would you, Doc? I think I'd like to know where the good ol' counsellor's been for the last year."

Deaton raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. "I'll give you her details tomorrow. Get some rest - both of you - and when you're free, come see me at the clinic tomorrow. We'll talk in more detail about the attack."

"Oh, hey, Doc? What happened to the warlock? Did I really, y'know, kill him?"

"It is rare to come out of a magical attack unscathed. It is highly likely that you stripped him of his power; however, if the warlock is as old as I assume, then stripping him of his power would probably have stripped him of his ability to be alive at this age as well. Those that survive several centuries rarely do so through a good diet and exercise alone," Deaton adds with a slight smile.

Stiles lets out a sigh, though he's not sure if it's one of resignation or relief. The warlock is no longer going to be a threat, and his dad, his friends, his Derek, they'll all survive.

Deaton says goodbye and leaves without waiting for much of a response. Stiles is staring down at the bathroom sink when Derek crowds up behind him, and he starts in surprise when Derek places a large fluffy towel around his shoulders. Stiles looks up, eyes meeting Derek's in the mirror, and questions him silently. Derek just raises an eyebrow at him and starts to dry him off.

"You're shaking worse than one of your leaves, Stiles. You've got to get dry and change into warm clothes, or you'll freeze to death."

Stiles looks down again, this time at his arms, and is surprised to see that they're both covered in goosebumps.

"Wouldn't want that to happen; who'd tease me with dog jokes if you weren't here?" Derek adds with a slight grin.

Stiles snorts a laugh, but goes silent as Derek continues to dry him off, the werewolf even going so far as to put the towel over his head and dry Stiles' hair for him. A smile is tugging at Derek's mouth when he pulls the towel away and brushes Stiles' hair back.

"I'll get you some clothes. You get undressed, okay?" Derek says, leaving before he can answer.

His clothes aren't as wet as Derek's are, but there must have been some serious splashing going on because he's still fairly damp, and Stiles struggles to get out of his shirt, underwear, and pants. He's finally naked when Derek returns (he's changed his own clothes too, Stiles notes, seeing that his shirt isn't stuck to his body quite so much), and he's holding a large pair of sweatpants, as well as a shirt that's probably too big on him, let alone Stiles' smaller body. He doesn't even blush about being naked, too cold and still feeling a bit off from the warlock's attack to bother, and thanks Derek before taking the clothes and getting changed.

Derek waits patiently, doesn't even bother to leave the room while he's changing into his clothes, and as soon as he's laced up the sweatpants, he guides Stiles out of the bathroom and towards his bedroom. Stiles is under the blankets in under a minute flat, Derek joining him without a word. Derek smiles, brushes his damp hair back once more, then curls an arm around Stiles' body and holds him close. Stiles breathes a small sigh of relief, glad that Derek is warm, and snuggles closer to his chest.

"Thanks for coming to save me, Derek," Stiles murmurs.

"Anytime, Stiles," Derek answers softly.

It's not a declaration exactly, but Stiles thinks that there might be something more than either one will let on right now, as exhausted as they are.

Maybe tomorrow will be better for declarations, Stiles thinks to himself.

He smiles against Derek's chest, moving slightly so that his arm is wrapped around Derek's body and his hand is resting between his shoulder blades, right on his triskelion. He can feel a pulse of emotion from it, safe, warm, protect, happy, and Stiles thinks that maybe they're both starting to heal after all.

...

The end!

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