Chapter Text
Pulling back the lip of the body bag, you eye the body with disdain.
“Well,” Malia mumbles, turning to glance up at Lydia. “It’s still here, still dead. What else are we supposed to do?”
Shaking her head, Lydia sighs; “figured out how a Hellhound led me into the woods to find another faceless body while being technically dead.”
Quirking a brow, you eye Lydia. “Technically?”
“I don’t think I would have been led out there if he was fully dead.”
“I don’t think we should be waiting here waiting for him to spring back to life.”
You turn to Malia at the apprehension clear in her tone. Though, as you eye her, you can’t help but agree with her words. It didn’t really seem like the most sensible option, if you were being honest.
“We don’t have to wait,” Lydia reminds eagerly, “if we can figure out how he was able to reach me.”
“How do we do that?”
“Something tells me it isn’t going to be any easier,” you sigh, shoulders slumping.
Teetering on her feet for a moment, Lydia takes a step forward, glancing down at the Hellhound. “I’m just gonna have to ask him.”
-
Eyeing Lydia laid on a examining table lined directly ahead of the Hellhound, skeptically, you lean into Malia, making sure to keep your voice lowered. “I feel like it’s not working.”
“I don’t know,” she whispers back, shrugging her shoulders. “It could be working.”
Pursing your lips, you pause a moment before shaking your head. “No, it’s definitely not working.”
Malia just eyes you, before stepping forward, crouching before the two, as if afraid to wake one of them up, moving to whisper to Lydia; “anything yet?”
“As opposed to when you asked me three minutes ago?” Lydia snarks, “no.”
You quirk a brow.
Huffing, Lydia sits up. “It’s not working.”
“I told you it wasn’t working,” you sigh, gesturing your hands out before yourself in exasperation. Lydia sends you a sharp look, to which you simply roll your eyes, stepping forward and offering your hand as she jumps off the edge of the table, moving to stand next to Malia who stands in front of the Hellhound, as you fall next to her.
Malia pauses a moment before turning to Lydia; “maybe you should touch him.”
“Oh, that’s ridiculous,” Lydia scoffs, without hesitation, “there’s no way…–”
She doesn’t get to finish her sentence as Malia simply just grabs her by the wrist and pulls her hand towards the body.
“Malia!”
“What?” She turns to you, shaking her head, before eyeing Lydia. “Anything?”
“No.”
Pulling up the bag, Malia pulls Lydia’s hand further down the man’s chest. “What about now?”
“I really think this is weird–”
“Shh, Y/N, let her answer.”
Lydia simply rolls her eyes; “nope.”
Malia moves her hand to his cheek; “now–?”
“Okay, stop,” Lydia calls, pulling her hand back and out of her grasp.
Stepping forward, you eye the two before taking the man’s head with a slight grimace, turning it over so his neck is bare to you. Turning to Malia, you frown; “you could try?”
With a shrug, Malia nods, holding up her hand; “I could try.”
Lydia shakes her head. “You could damage his brain, maybe even more than that bullet already has.”
You turn the head back up straight quickly, wiping your hands on your jeans.
“How did it work last time?” Malia asks Lydia, desperate.
She turns to the both of you; “last time, I was unconscious.”
You turn to Malia, already having a sinking feeling of what she’s thinking.
“Unconscious,” she repeats with a nod.
Stepping forward, you shake your head, “Malia.”
“We can work with that.”
-
You wince as Malia bangs the mini little hammer thingy against the table, it echoing. “See?” She smiles, “it’ll be quick.”
“No,” Lydia shakes her head, “not like that.”
Crossing your arms over your chest, you nod at Malia; “definitely not like that.”
“You want me to knock you out, right?”
“Render unconscious,” Lydia corrects. “Preferably without pain.” Standing up, she moves back over to the body, inhaling sharply. “Okay, this is what we’re going to do.”
Swallowing thickly, you bite down your words, wanting to give her the benefit of the doubt.
“You’re going to press against my chest hard,” Lydia begins, “constricting the flow of blood and oxygen to my brain. It’ll drop my blood pressure and render me unconscious.”
“That doesn’t sound any less painful,” you sigh, “it also sounds incredibly dangerous.”
“Oh, extremely.”
Turning to Malia, you frown as she asks; “are you sure?”
“No,” Lydia sighs, before breathing in deeply. “But let’s go.”
Biting your lip, you shake your head; “just for the record, I really don’t think this is a good idea.”
Wincing, you press your hand against your lips as Malia steps forward, watching as she kicks her foot back, pressing her hands on Lydia’s chest. As soon as she presses down, Lydia takes a sharp, gasping in take of breath, and a gasp leaves your lips as she starts fighting Malia, grasping onto her arms tightly. It only lasts a few more seconds though before her eyes are dulling and rolling.
Rushing forward, you catch her before she crashes to the ground, eyeing Malia warily.
-
Pulling at your scrubs, you glance down as Lydia types away at the computer, blinking when the MRI successfully turns on, humming. For a brief moment, you think of when Stiles had been put in a MRI, when the nogitsune had been trying to work it’s way into his head.
That’s when the nogitsune succeeded.
“Look,” Lydia calls, pulling you from your thoughts and onto to the screen, directly where she points. “See that image artifacting?”
You nod.
“That means the bullet is ferromagnetic, probably steel. It’ll react in the MRI. We’ll increase the magnet’s power and the machine will pull the bullet right out.”
Tilting your head, you nod; “good plan.”
Lydia smiles at you, “ready? It could get messy.”
“I’ve seen messy,” Malia shrugs, “go for it.”
Lydia only hesitates a moment, reaching forward for the button, inhaling sharply before she altogether stops. You and Malia glance down at her in confusion, frowning when she leans closer, eyeing the screen carefully before pulling her hand away. “We can’t do this.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The bullet,” Lydia begins, “it’s not just steel.” Leaning forward, she points at the screen, enlarging the top left photo. “See those fragments around it? That’s silver. The bullet was coated with it. Silver won’t react in the MRI. We pull that bullet out and he’ll start to heal.”
Your eyes widen with realization.
‘Healing’s good.”
“But he’s a Hellhound,” you remind Malia, “he’ll heat up. When he does, that silver is going to melt and seep into his brain.”
“So,” Malia starts, “what’s a little silver?”
“Argyria. Silver poisoning. And we have no way of getting it out.”
“So if we take out the bullets,” Malia sighs, standing up. “He dies again.”
-
“Something’s wrong.”
Something’s always wrong.
“What is it?”
“His heartbeat.”
Glancing at Malia briefly, you settle your gaze back on the Hellhound, eyeing it carefully.
“It’s too fast and erratic.”
Letting your eyes fall shut, you inhale sharply, taking a deep breath. You drown out the noise of your two friends next to you, placing all your focus on the Hellhound before you. Then, you feel it. Eyes flickering open, you bite your lip. “Malia’s right,” you call, though you’re sure neither of you had even doubted her for a second. “It’s… there’s something happening.”
Just as you finish speaking, alarms start to blare as the body starts jumping and spasming. Your lips part, a shock of surprise leaving your lips as you witness the sight before you, Lydia jumps to her feet, as Malia hastily and desperately calls to her; “turn it off! Turn it off!”
The machines continue to beep loudly. Lydia’s fingertips type rapidly across the keyboard.
“Hurry!”
“His heart beat!” You call, watching the numbers skyrocket to something that is entirely inhumane; even for a Hellhound.
He lets out a last crying, loud roar, it piercing your ears as you flinch back in response. There’s a small metal tang as he finishes, and then, the lights turn off and all falls silent.
You rush out of the room, without second thought, Malia and Lydia following after you quickly as you run into the MRI scanner room. The lights in there flicker on, and your lips part, heart pounding when the Hellhound stands. Fangs out, voice grotesque, he glances at the three of you; “where is it?”
It takes a stumbling step forward, not even making it two steps before it comes crashing to the ground. You catch him along the way, Malia and Lydia helping you set him down and lean him up against the wall, a huff leaving your lips as you do so.
“What’s happening?” His voice fades to it’s normal tone.
“The Anuk-ite is destroying our city,” Malia explains, “that’s what’s happening. And we need you to tell us how to kill it.”
“Malia.”
Ignoring Lydia, Malia continues; “does it have any weaknesses? Is there a weapon that we can use?”
Your eyes widen when you notice the same thing as Lydia.
“Malia,” you call, eyeing her carefully.
She falls silent then.
The silver. It’s melted, and it’s pouring from his nose.
“What did you do to me?”
-
“I’m sorry. It was the only way to revive you.”
Panting, the Hellhound shakes his head; “revive me so I can die?”
“No,” Malia says gently, “so you could help us. Tell us how to stop it.”
“Please,” you whisper, meeting his eyes, voice pleadingly desperate.
He only huffs; “you can’t stop it. You can’t kill it.”
Your heart sinks.
“But you did,” Lydia reminds.
“I trapped it,” he corrects, turning to her.
“Well,” Malia argues, shaking her head. “How do we do that?”
“Don’t let it find it’s other half.”
You sigh; “how do we know it hasn’t already found it?”
Gasping for breath, his head falls back as he says; “because you wouldn’t be alive to tell me.” Panting, he keeps his gaze head on, nodding. “Keep them apart. It’s still weak.”
“One of them isn’t so weak, it’s supernatural.”
“Shapeshifter?”
“A werewolf.”
“You can’t let the two halves merge,” he repeats, voice fading. “If you do, you won’t be able to catch it.” Letting out a grunt, your chest tightens and your jaw locks as you watch some of the life leave his eyes.
“We shouldn’t have done this,” Lydia calls, panicked. “I am so sorry. I’m sorry.”
Taking his hand in her own, Lydia squeezes it tightly.
“Okay, listen to me,” he calls, “if it finds it’s other half… if the two become one, do not look…”
Silver begins to tear from his eyes and his words become choked and forced as he tries to finish his sentence. Your heart lurches at the sight, shame flooding you because you three caused this, killed this man. You reach forward, setting your hand on his arm, skin on skin.
“You can’t…”
And his panting eases, and his body untenses. Malia and Lydia take notice, eyes falling on you as your own widen and your body becomes rigid. Stiff. You feel yourself unable to move.
The Hellhound doesn’t tear his gaze off of you as he speaks, orange meeting purple. “It will kill you with a look.”
And then the life leaves his eyes and his body falls limp.
A gasp leaves your lips, pulling your hand back to your chest as you push back, stumbling. Tears flooding your gaze, you lean back, chest rising and falling. Malia and Lydia look back at you, teary-eyed themselves, but gazes concerned as they regard you.
“I… I felt him die,” you whisper, voice shaky. “I think… I was just trying to help–I… I did. I took some of the pain…” Glancing down at your hands, you watch as they shake violently. “Oh God…”
Leaning forward, Lydia takes your hand in her own, squeezing it tightly. It pulls your distant and shaky focus on her. She doesn’t say anything, just holds tightly to your hand.
-
“I’m gonna go visit mom.”
“Okay.”
“Then, i’m gonna get Isaac. From the airport.”
“He’s coming back today?”
Glancing up at Scott, whose stood at the door of your bedroom door, you pull your knees closer to yourself, nodding. With your lip in between your teeth, you inhale sharply, your knee pouncing.
Scott steps forward, not oblivious to you the way you seem to be shaking, or keeping gnawing on your lip, or the fact that your knee has not stopped pouncing since he’d walked in to your room to see you. That and the fact that you just absolutely reek of anxiety and nerves.
He crouches in front of you, setting a hand on your knee to stop it.
Your eyes meet his.
“What’s wrong?”
Hands falling down to your sides, you shake your head. “I don’t know,” you confess, shaking your head. “Something’s… something just feels wrong.”
“Wrong?”
You nod. “Yeah and every time I feel this way, I’ve… I’ve ignored. I ignored it when it came to the nogitsune, and you got hurt. I ignored it when it came Theo, and you nearly died. You did die…” Swallowing thickly, you meet his gaze head on, “every time I’ve ignored this feeling, you always get hurt. I’m… I’m scared this time I might really lose you.”
Scott frowns, and setting his hand over your own shaky one, he nods up at you. It’s enough to soothe you, even for just a moment. “Maybe it’s the Anuke-ite,” he offers gently. “It’s the fear. I’m scared–”
“No,” you whisper, “this feels different.”
“Okay,” Scott implores, nodding up at you. “What did you want to do about it?”
Shaking your head, you huff; “I don’t know,” you whisper desperately, shoulders slumping. “It started when I touched the Hellhound. When… When I felt him die, in here,” pointing to your chest, you bite your lip. “Since then, the feeling hasn’t gone away.”
“Y/N, you felt someone die,” Scott reminds, “I mean, actually… felt it. That’s bound to have some lasting effects.”
“I know that,” you whisper, “doesn’t make it any less terrifying.”
Scott lets out a quiet chuckle, somewhat forced, somewhat meaningful, as he squeezes your hand. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?” He whispers, “we can do this. We can beat this.”
“But, they merged–”
“We can do it,” Scott cuts in, eyes never leaving your own. “As long as we have each other.”
And you find, you can’t much argue against that.
Nodding, you blink, trying to calm your racing heart. “Okay,” you heed, giving into Scott’s reassuring look and soft smile. “Okay, but you call me. For anything. Anything happens, and you call me, okay?”
“I promise.”
-
One minute your driving to the airport, and the next, you find yourself heading in the entirely wrong direction.
It happens with a blink of the eye. It feels like no time has passed, which isn’t possible because it seemed a whole twenty minutes had. You’re somewhere one minute and somewhere else the next. Heading the opposite way. And it baffles you, incredibly so, because this was something that happened to Lydia. Not you.
Never you.
But that sinking feeling in your chest grows and everything feels like it’s closing in around you. You try to make sense of the sensation, try to pinpoint what it is making you feel this way. What’s happening. Your eyes screw shut and then a loud honk echoes and you realize, you’re still on the road. With a gasp, your eyes flicker open and you take a sharp right, pulling onto the side of the road, coming to a jerked and sudden stop.
You turn off the engine with a huff, chest rising and falling.
“Jesus,” you breathe, whispering to yourself. “What is wrong…–”
Scott.
It’s that voice. The voice that–
Malia. Lydia.
Scott.
Malia.
Lydia.
Pressing your hands to your head, your eyes screw shut. Their names are repeated like a fast, terrifying mantra in your head. It repeats and repeats and doesn’t stop. And your heart seems to fall, sinking deeper and deeper each time the voice starts anew.
Danger.
They’re in danger.
They’ll die.
They’ll all die.
Scott’s going to die.
Hands tightening around the steering wheel, you throw your head back, eyes turning a blinding purple. A aura surrounds you, and it feels as if your chest is caving in on itself.
SCOTT’S GOING TO DIE.
Pushing open the door, you fall onto the road in a heap of tears and distress, collapsing to your knees as you let out a shaking gasp, pressing your hand against your chest.
“I don’t know where he is,” you whisper, to yourself. “I don’t know where he is. I don’t know where he is. I don’t know where he is. I don’t–”
You do.
“But–”
Think. Feel. You know.
Placing your palms flat against the concrete of the road, you breathe in sharply, deeply, steadying your racing heart.
Your mind says you know, so… you must. You must know where he is.
But how? Scott hadn’t told you where he was going. When you’d talked to him last, he hadn’t even known.
He hadn’t even–
Follow your heart.
Biting your lip, you push yourself back up to your feet, turning towards your car.
“I’ll guide you the rest of the way.”
-
Your heart almost leaps out of your throat at the sight of him.
“Scott! Scott!” Raising forward, you never once slow your step, reaching your brother, and Malia and Deucalion you note in the back of your head, in seconds, falling directly next to Deucalion. Scott’s eyes fall on you, baffled, confused; “there’s something wrong. Something’s–”
“Scott!”
You blink, wide, confused eyes falling on Lydia. And… Peter.
“None of us are gonna survive this,” she calls, voice cracking.
“What… why?” Scott stammers, eyes flickering from you to her, “what are you guys doing here?”
“They’re coming,” Peter breathes, “Monroe and more. And they have heavy firepower.”
“That feeling…” You whisper, to yourself at first, before; “Scott! My feeling, I–”
You’re interrupted by the sound of gunfire. It ripples on around you, taking away the sound of all else, piercing your ears.
Then, you notice a body collapsing next to you. Your eyes fall on that of Deucalion, lips parting.
But the focus doesn’t last long. As the bullets stop, and everyone’s attention falls on Deucalion, dead, this ache begins to fester in you. Your head dips and your eyes lower to your left hip, watching as your shirt begins to bleed red. And your lips part, silence flooding your ears as the realization that you’d been shot registers in your mind.
You’d been…
that feeling… that feeling was for you…
“Scott.”
His name leaves your lips in a small, echoed whisper. But it catches the attention of everyone. All falls silent and time seems to slow as Scott turns to you, eyes leaving Deucalion to find you, before he finds the blood. And then suddenly, all he can see is the blood.
When you glance past him, you find Monroe and your heart finally just sinks to bottom of your stomach.
“Y/N…”
Gunshots echo, this time more, this time faster. Your vision bleeds black for a moment as you feel yourself falling. Arms wrap around you, pulling you tight against them, and you’re pulled. But it all feels like echoing nothingness.
Suddenly, you realize you’re in Scott’s arms, and you’re tucked behind a pillar. His hand is on your injury, blood coating his hands. A choked cough leaves your lips, and blood splatters. His eyes meet yours and you take a sharp intake, pain flooding your entire being.
“Scott–”
“No, no,” he whispers, eyes tearing-up, “no, save your energy. You need to save your energy.”
“Scott, no, I’m…”
“Please, Y/N, no…” His words come out in choked cries and the heartbreak in his eyes seems to drown out the terrifying sounds of bullets still ringing. “No, please, don’t do this to me. I can’t… I can’t lose you. Not you… Y/N!”
Your head lolls, and your eyes turn up, staring at the sky.
Oddly it doesn’t hurt.
And suddenly, Allison’s words make so much more sense to you then then they ever did before.
Dying doesn’t hurt.
You think you’ve been ready for a long time now.
Dying…
Your eyes fall shut at the voice.
It’d make everything just go away.
“Y/N! Hey! Y/N, open your eyes. You’ve got to open your eyes…”
And Scott’s voice seems to just drift.
In nothingness.
I think I’m ready to–
“Y/N! It’s Stiles! Hey, Y/N! Stiles is here, okay? He’s here, he’s gonna–!”
Stiles…?
Stiles… You’ve been… been waiting for Stiles…
All this time, and when he’s finally here, you’re…
Your eyes open, but it’s not Scott hovering over you. And it’s not the night sky either. It’s just… black.
“I don’t want to die.”
No…
“I want to see Scott. I want to see Isaac… Lydia, Malia…” Your voice cracks, and your head picks up, glancing at your wound. “I want to see Stiles again.”
Then,
the voice echoes,
wake up.
“–We need to get her out of here! We can’t… she can’t… Scott, come on, we can still save her–”
A gasp breaks past your lips, and you sit up, a purple aura surrounds you. You don’t even notice it at first, everyone pulls back from you as a heat surrounds you. Your hands fall to your wound, and the pain begins to ease, slowly but surely, before suddenly, your vision clears and you glance down and all that remains of your wound is just the dried blood. Pulling your shirt up, you find yourself in disbelief at the fact that the wound is completely healed; there’s not even a scar left as a reminder.
Glancing back, your eyes meet Scott’s first and the disbelief in his gaze. But you also don’t miss the relief. “Y/N… I thought, we thought…”
The we reminds you of everyone else standing there; you notice Malia, and then Lydia, and then your eyes focus on Derek whose eyes seem stuck on you, worried. And then finally your eyes fall on Stiles, and this immeasurable amount of relief floods you. He’s moving towards you quick and before you know it, you’re wrapped up in his arms, your hands falling to his cheeks, cupping them.
You notice out of the corner of your eye, Scott move off, and obviously he’s moving towards Deucalion.
Focusing back on Stiles, you smile lightly. “I missed you,” you whispered, voice faint, echoing through the silence that has enveloped the both of you.
“The plan was to meet me in Washington,” he mumbles, brushing back wet hair coated by sweat from everything. He tucks it behind your ear, touch gentle and tender. “I was waiting for you.”
Your eyes fall shut and you lean into him, and the two of you embrace lightly before he’s pulling you up to your feet. You wobble for a second, unsure, but then you find your footing, nodding up at Stiles. “I’m okay,” you whisper, “I healed…”
Stiles keeps his arm around you, wrapped securely around waist, helping you over to where Scott kneels in front of Deucalion even if you don’t really need the help.
“It’s really started, hasn’t it?”
Eyeing Malia, you sigh.
Confused, Stiles shakes his head from beside you; “what’s started?”
Panting, Scott stands up from Deucalion’s now limp body, teary-eyed; “it’s an all-out war.”
Scott seems to notice Derek, rushing forward to pull him into a tight embrace. They hold tight to one another, before pulling back, and then, setting a hand against Stiles’ chest, you push gently away from him, moving towards Derek yourself, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. He returns the embrace with just as much urgency, bounding around your waist tightly.
“As much as I enjoy the impromptu family reunion,” Peter cuts in, causing you to pull back, his eyes on Derek. “What are you doing here?”
Moving back towards Stiles, Derek begins to explain; “I found a pack slaughtered in Brazil,” he begins, crossing his arms over his chest. “There were two words written in blood on a wall. ‘Beacon Hills’.”
Scott’s eyes widen in surprise; “you came back for Beacon Hills?”
“No,” he says simply, “came back for you.”
Just then, Stiles’ jeeps radio flickers on, radio static echoing for a moment before Gerard’s voice echoes. “Blood and destruction,” he begins, “dreadful objects so familiar.” With a simple glance at each other, you and Stiles are the first to rush towards the Jeep, the latter pulling open the door as Gerard continues. “All pity choked with custom of fell deeds.”
Stiles slips into the drivers seat while Scott goes around to the passengers.
“Caesar’s spirit, ranging for revenger. With Ate by his side come hot from hell.” Taking the walkie in his hands, Scott hesitates a moment as Gerard never ending continues to taunt you all. “Shall in these confines with a monarch’s voice,” and then it just turns to static for just a moment, before; “do you know the rest Scott? Do you know Shakespeare?”
Grabbing Scott’s wrist, Derek pulls the walkie towards him. “’Cry, ‘Havoc!’ and let slip the dogs of war’.”
“War, indeed,” Gerard confirms. “Welcome back, Derek. You must all be feeling rather nostalgic. Are you please with the little family reunion I’ve gathered around you, Scott?”
“Yeah, well,” Scott speaks into the walkie, “why don’t you come join us and I can thank you in person?”
“I even have a few visitors for you, from London.” You blink at that, faltering. “Even someone like Jackson Whittemore couldn’t resist coming back form Beacon Hills.” Your eyes fall on Lydia, concern flooding both of your gazes. “Say hello, Jackson.”
All you hear is screaming, before; “do it again, old man. Come a little closer. I’m gonna shove that thing so far up your ass…”
Gerard cuts in; “lost none of his charm, has he? You can find him here with us at the Armory, Scott. In fact, I’m going to tell you where to find all of them. Your Deputy Hellhound met some friends of his while responding to a call at Eichen House. Your father,” and your heart spikes at that, “was on his way back from San Francisco with the goal of entering the fight. But he didn’t get far. You might want to tell your mother,” and then your heart just sinks, meeting Scott’s fearful gaze. “To skip her shift at the hospital tonight. Liam and his friends are there now. Optimistic of them, but woe-fully ill-advised.
“This is how you wage war, Scott. A strategic positioning of your army against theirs. Which is why you will come to me. You will try to save as many as you can. And you might even save a few. But your limited resource will be spread thin. And, ultimately, you will fail.” Eyeing Scott, you notice how his grip around the walkie tightens considerably, anger befalling his expression.
“The dogs of war, Scott. They’re coming for you…’”
-
“It was, literally, day one of my internship, and up comes a slide about this guy that they’ve been chasing in the woods in North Carolina.”
Crossing your arms over your chest, you eye Derek questioningly. “I thought you were in South America?”
“I was,” Derek nods, “the bodies of the werewolves I told you about? They blamed me.”
“So,” Stiles moves to continue, “I learn that the FBI has cornered this feral mass-murdering unsub…–”
“I found a group of hunters gathering in a meeting place,” Derek cuts in sharply. “I was trying to get information.”
“Well,” Stiles says simply, “the FBI found out about it too and they were planning a SWAT assault to take him down. Dead or alive. And, as we all know, though, with Derek, it’s preferable dead.”
Pressing a hand against your forehead, you sigh.
“Preferably,” Derek sighs.
“So I convinced them to take me on the Field Op,” Stiles continues.
“You convinced the FBI to bring an intern onto an extremely dangerous field operation?” Lydia questions.
“I’m surprised he didn’t convince them he could lead it,” Derek comments.
“I tried,” Stiles says bluntly, and you sigh, of course he did. “Didn’t work.” Of course it didn’t. “Anyway, long story short, I basically, you know, had to save his life.”
There’s a pause, then, brows furrowed, Derek shakes his head; “that’s… not how it happened.”
“Yeah, I may have left out a detail, but that’s the gist of what happened. It was the essential essence of it.”
“You couldn’t walk.”
“I was limping.”
“You couldn’t walk,” Derek repeats, “and I know that because I was carrying you.”
“They shot my toe! You wanna see it?”
Tilting your head, you laugh at the look Derek gives you. “I’d rather not.”
“My toes was caught in the crossfire!” Stiles argues, defending himself. “It was obliterated.”
“Okay,” you cut in, “forget your toe.”
“Obliterated.”
“Yup,” you nod.
“Guys,” Scott cuts in, eyeing Derek and Stiles. “It’s not just the hunters. We’ve got another problem.”
“It’s called the Anuk-Ite,” Lydia begins.
-
“It can get into your head. It can make you see things.”
“What does it look like?”
“It used to look like two ordinary people,” you explain, “but somehow they merged. All we know is that it’s made of two faces. One human. The other supernatural.”
“And it’s a shapeshifter,” Scott adds, “just like us. But it knows what you’re afraid of. What you fear most.”
“And now it can kill you just by looking at you.”
“Okay,” Stiles frowns, “so you’re telling me we gotta go up against this thing blind? And face our deepest fear?”
“Yeah,” Scott says slowly, “why? What do you fear the most?”
“Blindness.”
You blink.
“Becoming blind?” Derek asks.
“Yeah,” Stiles nods, “terrified of it. Always have been.”
Frowning, your brows furrow; “I didn’t know that.”
He shrugs. “Never came up in conversation.” Turning to Scott, he sighs. “This just seems to be a situation of unfortunate overlap.”
“Y/N,” Scott calls, pulling your attention on him. “You and Stiles need to find Argent, get to the Armory, rescue Jackson.”
Lydia cuts in before you can speak; “I don’t think they have time to wait for him,” she sighs, “I have a feeling… it’s not good.”
Sighing, you shake your head. “It never is,” you mumble to yourself, before nodding, turning to Lydia reassuringly. “We’ll get to him, I promise. I can get through those doors.”
“Can we slow it down for just one second, make sure I’m grasping this?” Stiles cuts in, shaking his head adamantly. “So, we’re actually talking about doing this? We’re gonna do exactly what Gerard wants us to? Is that right?”
Scott nods at Stiles; “I think that if we stop the Anuk-Ite, we stop it all.”
“Stopping this thing can stop Gerard and the hunters?”
“Not all of them are hunters.”
“He’s right,” Lydia nods at Scott, “most of them are ordinary people acting out of fear.”
Scott sighs. “Monroe’s not gonna change. But I think we can reach the others. Most of them, actually.”
“The Anuk-Ite is causing them to come from a place of fear,” you explain.
“Well,” Derek shuffles closer to you, nodding. “Fears pretty motivating. Especially when it leads to anger.”
“And I think that if we can take out the fear, we can take out the fight in them too.” Scott reasons, “they’re afraid of us, but they don’t have to be. They just have to change their minds.”
“Well, we have to change their minds.”
An echo of silence follows.
Swallowing thickly, Malia speak up; “okay, we can face the Anuk-Ite. We can try to fight it blind. We can try to face our fears. But we still need to know how to catch it.”
“We will figure that out,” Scott assures gently, “we always do.”
“Oh,” Derek smiles, “it’s nice to see that somebody hasn’t lost their optimism.”
“Not yet.”
“I have,” Stiles frowns.
Shaking your head, you turn to Scott. “We will buy you time, I promise.” Then, with a hopeful, maybe forced smile, you add; “who knows? Maybe Jackson has an answer.”
“Maybe Argent will come back with one,” Malia offers.
“You three,” Scott eyes the rest, “you’re with me. And we need Peter. Anyone who can help stop this thing or slow it down.”
“Where we headed?”
“The high school.”
Derek pauses; “that’s where we’re gonna fight this thing?”
“No,” Scott shakes his head, “it’ll find us.”-
-
“Jackson?”
“Stiles?”
“Isaac?”
“Stiles?”
“Wait, Jackson?” You call, stepping away from the now unconscious body of a hunter, “Isaac?”
Stiles steps to the side, and your eyes widen at the sight before you.
“Oh, my God!!! It’s really the two of you!” You race forward without another thought, a squeal of excitement bursting past your lips as you race past Stiles without another thought, falling into Jackson’s arms and hugging him tightly. “I can’t believe you’re really here!”
“Okay,” Stiles mumbles form the back, “okay, um… that’s nice.”
Pulling back, you smile up at Jackson, before your attention is stolen by Isaac. You quickly turn to him, pulling him tightly against yourself as you smile brightly. “I can’t believe you’re actually here!”
“Okay,” Stiles continues, shuffling on his feet. “Not too close. Watch the, uh… watch the hands. Okay.” Stepping forward, Stiles gently pulls you back from the embrace by the arms. “Okay, all right, let’s just break that up.”
Breathless, you smile at the two of them.
Jackson catches eye of the bodies behind you. “You,” he eyes you, “you did that?”
You nod, still smiling.
Isaac leans towards him; “she’s a witch,” he mumbles, to which Jackson nods, obviously surprised.
“I kicked down the door,” Stiles mumbles, and you smile at him, pressing a kiss against his cheek. “Now that we’ve all contributed, wanna get the hell out of his? Huh?”
“Wait, wait,” you cut in, shaking your head. “How… what happened? Why are you two together?”
Isaac and Jackson glance at each other, then the former speaks up; “when you didn’t turn up at the airport, I knew something was wrong,” you frown at the look Isaac sends you, instinctively moving towards the now-gone wound on your hip. “Hunters caught me along the way, ambushed me. Found Jackson along the way, and we managed to escape.”
“Oh,” you nod slowly, “makes sense.”
“Okay, great,” Stiles claps his hands, shuffling back, “can we go now?”
“Uh,” Jackson mumbles, breathless, “not without Ethan.”
“Ethan?” You mumble, confused as Jackson walks past you. “What’s Ethan doing here?”
“He’s with me,” Jackson explains.
“He’s with you?”
Jackson quirks a brow; “yes. Me.”
“Ethan?” Stiles repeats questioningly.
“Yes. Ethan.”
“And you?” You say slowly.
“Ethan?”
Isaac eyes the two of you.
Jackson nods; “yeah.”
Your eyes widen. “I knew it,” you mumble, at first to yourself, then, “I knew it!”
Jackson scoffs, then chuckles lightly.
“I mean, Lydia and I always talked about,” you add, nodding over at Stiles at the look he sends you. “We both knew.”
Jackson just shakes his head; “can we… can we go find him now?”
“Yeah–” Stiles is cut off by the sound of his phone ringing, moving to answer it. “Yeah?”
It’s obviously Scott on the other end.
“We are,” Stiles answers after a moment. “Leaving momentarily, though.”
-
“So, he wants us to get…?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it must mean something.”
“Right?”
“Scott always has a plan.”
“And this must be his plan.”
Nodding at Stiles, you follow him further into the Armory, keeping an eye out for anyone.
Stiles finds the Wolfsbane easily enough, grabbing it without a second thought, and rushing out of the room the next second. His hand falls on your arm, helping guide you out of the room, and out of the Armory, knowing now that the both of you have to get to the high school.
Where Scott is.
But then, Stiles halts. Suddenly and randomly and it makes you pause, confused.
“Stiles?”
He turns to you. “Why didn’t you call me?”
You blink.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks again, “I would’ve helped. No matter what.”
“I know,” you say quickly, urgently, hoping to reassure Stiles of the fact. “I know that,” you repeat, stepping towards him, taking his hands in your own and squeezing them reassuringly. “You just seemed so happy, Stiles. I didn’t want to ruin that.”
“I wasn’t.”
Brows furrowing, you blink. “What?”
“Without you there,” he mumbles, “I could never truly be happy.”
Heart warming at his words, your lips part in surprise, not sure what to say at first. The words are endearing and truly, something you feel you’ve been yearning for since he left. You’ve missed him so much, and all this time apart you’d wondered if you meant as much to Stiles as he meant to you.
Now, you know that you do.
Threading your fingers through his own, you nod. “I’ll follow you anywhere Stiles, as long as i get to be with you.”
-
Rushing through the library doors, you step back as Stiles instantly, without hesitation, tosses the jar of Wolfsbane towards the Anuk-Ite. The Wolfsbane covers the entire floor, surrounding the Anuk-Ite as it envelops it in a cloud of grey.
Then, slowly, it turns to stone. You watch breathless as it does, stunned.
-
“Scott?”
Blinking at the sound of Malia’s voice, you pull back, moving out of the way so she can crouch down next to your brother.
“He’s not healing?” She questions, baffled, eyes on you before turning back to your brother. “Scott, what happened to your eyes?”
“I had to,” he whispers, “I’m sorry.”
“Scott,” Derek calls firmly, “you have to heal. If your eyes stay like this much longer, the damage is going to be permanent.”
“Come on, Scott,” Stiles whispers, “concentrate.”
Leaning forward, you take his free hand, the one not already being held by Malia, tightly into your own, squeezing reassuringly. “Scott,” you whisper, voice soft, gentle, “you can do it.”
“I’m trying,” he huffs, “it’s not working. I can’t focus.”
“Hey, hey,” Malia calls, cupping his cheeks, “look at me. Yes, you can. Just concentrate.”
“I can’t,” he cries, “I can’t, I can’t do it.”
Panicked, you turn around to Stiles.
“Yes, you can,” Malia continues, never faltering. “Scott, please just look at me.”
Stiles steps towards you, holding you tightly, to reassure you, to comfort you, and it clicks into your mind then,
“Malia,” you call gently, pulling her desperate and panicked eyes on you. “Kiss him.”
“What?”
“Kiss him” you repeat, this time more desperately sending her a look at explains it all.
And she only hesitates a minute longer before listening.
A moment later, his eyes heal.
Breathless, you pull back, standing back up to your feet, You turn to Stiles with a smile, bright-eyed and relieved, as his hand falls in your own and squeezes tightly, you falling against him.
-
“You’ll come visit?”
“Always.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Smiling up at Isaac, you lean forward, giving him a tight hug and bright doe-eyed smile that seems to just say all that you need to say. You pull back from him a moment later, stepping back while never faltering your guys until you completely turn, crossing the distance over to Stiles and Scott who’re stood by your car.
“All packed?”
Smiling at Scott, you nod; “yup,” you laugh. “What about you?”
He shrugs; “I’ve been packed for a while now. Some of us didn’t procrastinate.”
Rolling your eyes, you nudge him lightly with your arms, snorting. “Yeah, yeah.”
“You’ll text me when you both get there, right?’ He questions, quirking a brow yours and Stiles’ direction. “Let me know you’re safe?”
“Of course,” you nod with ease.
“Not like you’ll ever have to worry again,” Stiles chuckles, “Y/N’s got healing abilities now.”
You scoff; “I still don’t even know how I did that.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Scott shrugs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You did.”
“Yeah,” you whisper, “I guess I did.”
There’s an echo of silence before Scott blinks. “Okay, well, i’ll see you soon?”
“Of course,” you smile, stepping forward and pulling him into a hug. Burying your head into the crook of his neck, taking in the moment, knowing that you might not see Scott for a little bit, which was hard to believe on it’s own since you can’t remember the last time you went a day without being by his side. “I love you, Scott.”
Squeezing you tightly, Scott inhales deeply, “I love you too, Y/N.”
You pull back with a smile, watching fondly as Scott and Stiles say goodbye to each other, before suddenly you find yourself in the drivers seat, Stiles next to you in the passengers, and the engine on.
You hesitate a moment longer. Stiles, noticing, sets his hands on your knee pulling your eyes on him.
“You ready?”
“Yeah,” you whisper, eyes bright, “yeah, I’m ready.”