A/N: I don't know if it bothers anyone but I have a really, really hard time responding to comments. I'm not so good at communicating so I don't want anyone to think that I don't read their comments or that I don't care, it's not that. It's just that I literally have no idea how to respond other than to say thank you. I don't want it to become monotonous, though by replying the same thank you to everyone. I genuinely love every comment I receive and it encourages me and fills me with warmth and happiness and I read every single one, sometimes multiple times because all your comments are always so sweet and understanding and full of kind words.

So, thank you so much to everyone who reads my stories, even if you don't comment, thank you for reading. Thank you so much for taking time to read the sometimes horribly written words that I've thrown together at 3 in the morning and especially thank you for giving me your own words in return. They mean so much to me.

I hope you like this chapter!

Enjoy

The fruit that the doctor left is delicious and when Derek and Scott come over next he insists on giving them some. It feels different, being around them after that last therapy session. It feels like those words that had been completely nonexistent before are bubbling up and he suddenly wants to tell them everything. He wants to tell them what he did, that he betrayed them, that he doesn't deserve him, but he can't. He doesn't want to lose the just yet, and it's selfish and wrong of him, but he can't help drawing on their strength as he starts to make an effort at getting better.

He's gained some weight back, finally, and the physical therapist that has been coming every three days in between Dr. O'Heare's visits has moved on from just having him flex his moveable joints to adding weights or having him actually try and stand up from his chair. It's hard and it hurts, his bones and muscles screaming at him as he attempts to stand. It's using everything he has in him just to plant his feet on the ground and push up with his arms.

His father and Derek are the ones that are usually there for this since everyone else has school except Peter. So, they're the ones who are watching him practically humiliate himself by failing to do the simple act of standing up, but they never laugh at him, never say anything, they just encourage him and reassure him that he's doing great and Derek subtly does the pain-drain thing which he is forever grateful for.

By the second month that he's been back home he's finally managed to stand up fully and take a few steps before his body needs to rest again and his father has never looked prouder. Even Derek looks at him with pride and it makes his heart swell even as his face keeps its stony appearance.

One day, on a day where neither doctor is due for a visit they receive a strange visitor of the doctor kind anyways. Even his father looks perplexed as he allows the man into the house. Derek's not there at the moment so it's just Stiles and his father.

"Hello Stiles, it's good to see you recovering." Dr. Deaton says with his usual smiles where Stiles is never sure if it's genuine or not.

"Deaton, this is a surprise. To what do we owe the visit?" his father asks the thing that's circling Stiles' mind.

"There were just some things that I wanted to ask Stiles that is of great importance to his recovery. I hope you don't mind."

Deaton says this but he's not waiting for permission, walking up to where Stiles is seated in the armchair and plopping down on the couch, setting his bag down on the coffee table before him.

"Stiles, I know that you've been working with Dr. O'Heare, and while he doesn't tell me what the sessions are about he's told me that he's noticed something that he's quite concerned about. I need you to tell me if you recognize these."

Stiles' eye darts to Deaton's palm as he holds it out and freezes at the items settled almost innocently on his skin. The reaction is immediate. He's scrambling backwards in the chair, shutting his mouth firmly and trying to get as far away from them as possible. Deaton instantly closes his hand and tucks the things back into his bag.

"I thought so. Stiles, do you know what those are?"

Stiles can't answer, he's simply shaking and staring at Deaton in fear.

"These are pills that are given to powerful magic users to suppress their magic. A side effect of these is a difficulty healing. It's only once the user stops taking the pills and starts reusing their magic that they can heal at a faster rate, faster than a human generally can. Do you remember, back when Jackson was the kanima, when I had you manipulate mountain ash?"

Even with his heart still thundering in his chest Stiles is completely rapt. So, he nods and tries to settle calmly back into his seat.

"Remember when I told you that you had a Spark?" Stiles nods, "A Spark is a very powerful form of magic user. I don't know how they found out that you could use magic but they gave you these pills to keep you under control and to affect your healing abilities. You may be progressing well but I'm sure that you're still hurting quite a lot despite how long it's been since you received your injuries, am I correct?"

How did he…? Stiles nods, thinking about the bone deep ache that never seems to go away even after his check-ups saying his bones had healed very well. It's like he can still feel every place where he was broken and scarred like it'll never quite heal.

Deaton nods as well and zips up his bag and puts it to the side. "The only way for you to fully heal is to start using that Spark that you have inside of you. The drugs should have been completely flushed from your system by now, the only thing left is for you to gain some control of the magic. Sparks can be tricky, though. The magic comes from sheer will power which is something you create, meaning, if you don't believe it will happen, it won't happen, or, if you don't want it to happen, nothing will happen. Does that make sense?"

Slowly, still processing the information, Stiles nods. Logically it makes sense, but he'd thought that the mountain ash was a one-time thing, some sort of fluke.

"I want you to train with me during the days that you're not with Dr. O'Heare or Dr. Turner. I know that some days you meet with both of them in the same day so I won't make you meet with me during days they're here since this will be both physically and mentally exhausting and I don't want to overwhelm you. However, this means that you'll be seeing at least one person every day. Are you ready for that?"

Stiles takes a moment to think this through. He's already taxing his body with the physical therapist and his mind with Dr. O'Heare, but Deaton says that his training would ease both of those, right?

"What's in it for you?" Stiles finally asks and Stiles waits for the reaction he always gets when a person hears his voice for the first time.

It doesn't come though. Deaton's gaze is as steady and unwavering as always.

"I want to train you to take over as emissary for the Hale/McCall pack."

And that totally throws Stiles. Out of all the things he was expecting Deaton to say, that certainly didn't make the list.

"All powerful, large packs have emissaries to keep them from attracting too much unwanted attention from outside threats. Emissaries protect the territory and ensure that the pack and their offspring are safe and have space to multiply and become more powerful. However, emissaries also protect the pack from themselves. If a pack becomes too violent or unruly it's the emissary's job to reign them in, to make sure their pack doesn't become a threat to other people or packs. It's like keeping the balance and the peace inside and outside of the pack."

"Why me?" Stiles asks.

"Because you are powerful and smart and have a great pack that needs guidance. I can't be their emissary because I was the previous Hale pack's emissary. My magic would clash with their new territory and you have a bond with them that I could never have. Even when you were away you still managed to bring the pack together to work cohesively in order to find you."

He's not sure what to say to that. He doesn't feel powerful or smart, he just feels broken and like a burden, a snake in their midst. He doesn't deserve to be with them.

"How about you give me two months, that's about twenty sessions, give or take, to help you. If you haven't learned to heal in that time or still don't want to afterwards, I'll accept your decision and won't press unless you seek me out yourself. How's that sound?"

His father, throughout the entire conversation, hadn't said anything, so Stiles looks at him now and his father shrugs.

"If it matters at all what I say then I would like for you to do it Stiles, but I know it's your decision and I'll respect whatever you decide."

"Can I have some time?"

Deaton smiles. "Of course, this is a big decision. Go ahead and talk it over with your dad and with the pack if you need to so that they understand what's happening. I'll come back when you have no other visitors scheduled, so, Sunday. Let me know what you decide."

"Thanks for stopping by Deaton, although, a little heads up next time would be appreciated."

"Of course, Sheriff. I'll see you later, then."

After the door is shut his father blows out a breath. "That is one weird man." He takes a seat on the couch. "Do you think this is something you might consider doing? If this magic training, or whatever, can help you get better then I think you should really think about doing it. You're already part of the pack anyway, being their official emissary could really help them and you."

"I'm not."

His father looks at him, confused. "Not what?"

"Part of the pack. I'm not."

"That's just ridiculous, son. Of course you're part of the pack, how could you not be?"

Stiles shakes his head. He doesn't have the energy to explain it to his dad. His father looks like he wants to push for answer and for a second Stiles is worried that he might, but the moment passes as his father blows out a breath and he nods.

"Alright, if that's what you want to think, I don't think I can do anything to dissuade you, but you should really talk to the pack about that. I'm sure they'll be just as offended as I think they'll be if you tell them that, especially Scott."

Stiles doesn't answer and continues staring ahead of him at the foggy living room. They wouldn't understand unless he explained and he's not sure if that's something he'll be able to do without breaking.

A/N: Man, my chapters are getting angstier and angstier. But they're only gonna get more angsty. I hope you all can hold on for the ride, I promise it's not gonna stay angsty through the whole thing. Thanks so much, everyone, for sticking around. I'll post the next chapter soon-ish. I'm bad with dates.

~hearts~