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“If he was dead, there’d be a body,” Stiles insists.

“You’re holding the body,” Deaton tells him, as gently as you can say that type of thing.

But the wolf in Stiles’ arms is heavy and warm, panting and looking around the vet’s with bright, interested eyes.

“We can change him back,” Stiles says, tangling his hands in the wolf’s rough fur to heave the huge animal back onto his lap. “There’s a spell. Or we can find one.”

Deaton shakes his head. “Stiles, that’s not the problem. The witch severed the magic that made Derek a werewolf while he was fully transformed. When that magic was cut off, his human side was lost too; his memories, personality, knowledge - an animal brain can’t contain those things without supernatural assistance. It is not Derek. Not in any way you would recognize. Even if we could somehow undo the transformation and restore his human form, it still wouldn’t be him. The only intelligence he has now is that of a normal wolf.”

Deaton’s wrong. It can’t be true. Stiles feels his chin trembling, but he won’t break down. Crying would make this real.

“I don’t mean to be cruel,” Deaton says, softly. “But you need to understand. The man you married is gone.”

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In terms of my upbringing, I’m very lucky that my parents brought me up in the way that they did. I was always taught that everyone is equal, and it doesn’t matter if you have a good job or not, or whether you earn a load of money or hardly any at all - it doesn’t make a difference.

Harry, Who We Are Autobiography + (via styzles)

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