Fandom: Teen Wolf
Authors: Sxymami0909 and Xtremeroswellia
Timeline Post episode 3x24 ‘The Divine Move’
Series: Post Finale AU
Pairings: Stiles/Lydia, Scott/Kira, Isaac, Sheriff Stilinski, Melissa McCall, Chris Argent, Jackson Whitmore
Summary: When the battle is finally over the only thing our heroes left can feel is her loss leading one of them to make a decision that changes the pack forever.
When the battle was over, most of them ended back up at the McCall household. Most of them. And none of them were in good shape, really. They were all sporting various injuries and wounds from the final battle with the Oni and the Nogitsune.
But one of them wasn’t there to be patched up. Wasn’t there to decompress.
One of them was dead. And she was never coming back.
And that would weigh on Scott for the rest of his life, however long or short that might be.
Lydia had one arm behind Stiles, his arm resting over her shoulders as she helped him into the house. She hadn’t said a word since the battle. She could hear the sheriff talking in the background; probably to Scott’s Mom she wasn’t really sure. Her gaze landed on Scott. She watched him standing in the middle of the foyer staring at nothing.
Lydia’s chest tightened, but she couldn’t give into the emotions building inside of her...not yet. Not when there were still people to take care of. Because if she let go now, Lydia wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to stop. She swallowed heavily and started to move Stiles forward the sound of the sheriff’s voice breaking through her fog.
“Let me help,” he said stepping forward doing his best not to put pressure on his bad shoulder as he reached for his son.
Stiles winced at the sight of his dad’s bloody shoulder and instead of letting him wrap his arm around his waist, Stiles wrapped his arm around his dad’s waist and guided him over to the couch, feeling dizzy and nauseated. “Sit,” he mumbled. His vision blurred momentarily as he looked from Lydia to Scott, who both looked more lost than he’d ever seen either of them and the despair he felt in his chest was so thick it felt like it was actually tangible.
There had to be a way to right this somehow. Some druid spell or some mythological answer that would provide some kind of loophole for what had happened tonight because this wasn’t okay. Nothing about it was okay.
The sheriff frowned, but he sat like Stiles told him to. “I’m fine, we need to get you in bed,” he pointed out, worry creasing his brow. There was a lot going on and he could practically feel the pain coming off the kids in waves. They weren’t the only ones hurting. Michael couldn’t believe she was gone. He blinked and looked up at his son again. His very pale, weak looking son. Stiles had to get better because they wouldn’t be able to handle another loss like Allison.
Allison was dead. That was all that Stiles could think about. Allison was dead. He stared unseeingly at his dad for a long time, teeth chattering involuntarily. Stiles was freezing. Stiles had been freezing. But he wasn’t freezing the same way that she was now. Still and silent, body cold. Like his mother’s. Like Heather’s. Boyd. Erica. Tara. Deputy Sharp. So many others. Names he didn’t even know. Just the latest name in a litany of others. Empty and meaningless.
Kira pushed her way into the room, looking wide-eyed and almost as shell-shocked as everyone else. She reached out and laid a hand on Scott’s arm, silent but steady beside him.
Scott barely acknowledged her presence at first. It took him a minute to even realize she was there. He glanced at her and then let his eyes drift around the room. “Everyone should get some rest,” his voice was hoarse when he spoke, but it broke through the silence of the room.
The sheriff stood even though he’d only just sat down. “Scott’s right, come on Stiles. Let me help you upstairs.” He said not willing to take no for an answer this time. They didn’t need to lose anyone else.
Stiles let his dad lead him toward the stairs wordlessly, but he paused at the bottom step, turning to look across the room at Lydia and Scott, his eyes glassy.
Lydia caught Stiles’ gaze and his expression made her stomach clench. He didn’t look good and she briefly wondered what would happen if they were wrong and he didn’t get better. She closed her eyes tightly needing to erase all thoughts of death from her head momentarily, at least long enough to form a coherent plan. Lydia needed a plan...a course of action. Something to do or she was pretty sure she was going to go out of her mind.
Lydia hadn’t really had a chance to process things yet, none of them had. But one thing she knew was that no matter what she did or how hard she tried nothing was going to fix this, nothing would bring Allison back.
“Come sit down,” Kira whispered, gently tugging Scott toward the sofa. He was hurt, too, even if he healed faster than everyone else because of his werewolf abilities.
Scott glanced at Kira and as she tugged him to the couch, he went willingly sitting down slowly. His whole body felt heavy. He rested his arms on his legs and dropped his head into his hands. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be real. Scott needed it to not be real.
Tired, Stiles allowed his dad to wrap an arm around his waist, helping him up the stairs. His body felt like it was made of lead. Or concrete. His limbs hurt, his head hurt. He felt nauseous and dizzy and an array of other physical sensations that were all currently vying for his attention but he ignored them all because he didn’t have it in him right then to care if he was going to get better or not.
He’d killed the Nogitsune, stabbed it through its gut with a sword while Scott rammed his claws through its back, and Stiles had watched as his own face contorted with pain in front of him, and felt nothing. It barely skimmed the surface of his awareness. Instead of letting his dad guide him into Scott’s room -- the room as familiar to him as his own -- he steered his dad toward the guest room. It was where he belonged now. He didn’t belong in Scott’s room, with Scott’s things, like he had a right to be there.
He was a stranger now.
The sheriff frowned, but said nothing for the moment. Once he had Stiles situated on the bed he stepped back and let out a tired sigh. “I’ll see if I can grab you some fresh clothes.” He said quietly as he started to head out of the guest room, pausing momentarily to place a hand on his son’s shoulder. Michael squeezed gently and then walked out of the room and into the hallway. He spotted Melissa making her way up the stairs as he stood at the top waiting for her. “How are you holding up?” He asked when she stepped off the last stair.
She hesitated, then shut her eyes. “I’ve had better days,” she admitted, knowing he knew exactly what she meant. She opened her eyes once more, moving closer to him. “I need to look at that shoulder. You may need stitches, Sheriff.” Her voice was full of concern.
Michael nodded, “Just let me grab Stiles some clean clothes and more blankets,” He said quietly trying to force the image of him and Allison talking in the elevator out of his head. She had been scared, she admitted it, all of the time. But she still dove into danger for her friends and it had cost her, her life.
“I’ll do it.”
The sheriff and Melissa glanced over at the new voice. Lydia. The sheriff swallowed hard. She was pale. There were dark circles around her eyes, blood covering certain parts of her clothes and she looked as lost as Scott. “You don’t have to,” he said soothingly reaching out to touch her arm.
Lydia flinched back from the touch swallowing hard. “It’s fine,” her throat was dry like sandpaper and it hurt to talk, though she wasn’t surprised with all the screaming she’d done over the past day and a half. “Stiles would want you to get that looked at. I’m fine. I can grab clothes and blankets.” She needed something to do.
If there wasn’t anyone to help or any mundane tasks to perform then Lydia was left alone with her own thoughts. And that...she couldn’t...there was so much pain inside her head. The voices still echoed faintly in her head and the loss of Allison ate at her insides like a parasite.
Melissa looked at her with worried eyes when she flinched away from Sheriff Stilinski. She quickly scanned Lydia’s face and arms, trying to determine if she was injured and also needed medical attention. There were scrapes and bruises, and there was blood on Lydia’s dress, but she was fairly certain it didn’t belong to Lydia.
“Okay, Sweetheart. The hall closet is full of blankets, and Scott’s room is --” She pointed toward the room where the door was cracked open. “All of his clothes are in his closet or his dresser. I’ll be right across the hall, taking care of Sheriff Stilinski. Then I’ll come in to check on you and Stiles, okay?” Her eyes were full of sadness, her face drawn and tired. There was an acute ache in her heart at the thought of Chris Argent and how he must feel right now. It didn’t escape her that it very well could have been her or Michael Stilinski in Chris’s shoes and the thought weighed on her heavily.
Lydia glanced from Scott’s Mom to the door and back. She nodded and turned heading in the direction of Scott’s room. She pushed the door open, stepped inside and just stood there for a minute. Lydia’s legs felt shaky and when she moved they were unsteady, but she pushed through. She walked to Scott’s closet, pulled it open, and stared at all the clothes there.
And then she was reaching out grabbing things. Moving through the motions. Familiar mindless tasks. Before Lydia even realized it she was standing in front of the closet with the blankets. Her hand shook as she reached out and opened it and she found herself once again swallowing hard.
She needed to keep it together. Lydia could hear the hushed voices of Ms. McCall and the sheriff from the other room, but the words were lost on her. She grabbed two blankets and walked to the guestroom. Lydia spotted Stiles on the bed. “I’ve got clean clothes.” She stated pausing in front of him and resting everything on the bed beside him.
Stiles was laying on the bed on his side faced away from the door and he heard her voice, shutting his eyes tightly. He was far too tired and apathetic to worry about changing clothes. He didn’t even have the energy to crawl under the blankets of the bed even though he was shivering -- not a lot because he didn’t have enough energy for that either -- and all he could think was Allison is dead.
He hadn’t gotten to tell her thank you for helping to save his life even if the best thing for everyone would have been his death and not hers. She wasn’t the one who’d killed people. She wasn’t the one who deserved to be punished.
She was the hero, not the villain.
Stiles let his eyes drift shut again, willing his body to just stop working. He didn’t want to heal physically when he knew he wasn’t going to heal mentally.
He didn’t move and Lydia felt a hint of panic fill her chest, she stepped forward and then stopped when she saw his body shudder slightly. She pursed her lips. “Stiles, you need to get out of those clothes. They’re ripped and wet and we need to warm you up.” She told him as she started moving forward again hesitating at the edge of the bed.
Lydia frowned and reached out to him slowly, “Please sit up,” she said quietly.
His face screwed up in a pained expression and he lifted his hand to his face, covering it. “You should...Scott...Isaac.” God. Chris. The tears burned his eyes and he’d throw up again if there was anything in his stomach left to purge, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even eaten. The Nogitsune hadn’t really been concerned about food, or sleep or Adderall.
Lydia closed her eyes for a minute. She wasn’t going to let him do this. She understood what Stiles was going through. She’d seen the Nogitsune and his evil tendencies up close in person for more time then she would have liked. Something else she wasn’t going to be thinking about right now.
But they just lost Allison, and everyone was feeling that. None of them would be able to deal with losing him too. Lydia felt her earlier anger building up in her chest. Not at Stiles or anyone really, but at the situation in general. “Get up now Stiles,” she said her tone shrill.
“I’m not going to stand here and watch you freeze to death, either you help me or I’ll undress you myself.” Lydia hadn’t meant for her tone to be so sharp, but she was pretty sure if she lost Allison and Stiles within the span of a day that she’d gladly let the voices in her head consume her and get lost in them.
Stiles was pretty sure that the entire house had heard her order because everything in the place was even more still and silent than it had been and considering how still and silent it already was…
He pushed himself up on shaky arms, not facing her, just reaching back for the clothes she’d brought him. Scott’s. He blanched involuntarily, nausea making his head spin. He shrugged out of the jacket he was wearing, teeth beginning to chatter again and there was blood on his shirt. He didn’t know whose blood it was, if it was his or if it was someone else’s. It was probably someone else’s. He tugged at the shirt he wore, letting it fall to the ground and pulling Scott’s red hoodie over his head silently.
Lydia stepped forward and grabbed the blankets. “We need to slowly get your temperature back to normal. You should lay down,” she told him now that he had on a clean shirt. Lydia shook out the blanket. “You should start feeling warmer in a few hours. It seems like--” she paused, “It takes time.” Lydia said simply cutting off her own rambling words. She stepped to the edge of the bed and waited for him to lay down.
It didn’t seem like the amount of time to Stiles. But he didn’t trust his own sense of anything at the moment, so he just lay down silently, letting his eyes drift shut. He was an asshole. He knew that much. She’d just lost her best friend. Scott had lost the love of his life. And he couldn’t bring himself to say anything, to offer either of them the tiniest bit of comfort. As if it were possible. But he’d killed the Nogitsune. The thing that wore his face as he ordered his puppets to kill Allison.
Lydia had no clue what Stiles was thinking. She couldn’t read the expression on his face and she hated how desolate he looked. But she didn’t know what to do to help him. So she leaned forward and covered him with the first blanket wrapping it around his body and tucking it against his sides. Once she was done with that she reached for the second blanket and did the same with that one. “It should help keep you warm,” she explained tucking the last of the blanket beneath his arm.
“Thanks,” he murmured, not opening his eyes. It should have felt surreal -- that Lydia Martin was explaining why she was covering his cold body with blankets, as if he wasn’t sure what the purpose was. It didn’t feel surreal and maybe that was a sign of how bad off all of them really were. He knew he needed to ask, but he was terrified of the answer. Terrified of the inevitable blame he would hear. But he had to ask anyway. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” Lydia answered immediately though she was pretty sure she’d never be fine again. Physically she was okay. Tired, achy, and nauseous, but okay. Everything else was a different story.
Tears burned Stiles' eyes as his body shivered under the blankets and he swallowed hard. It had been a stupid question. Of course she wasn’t fine. Of course she was hurt. He wasn’t sure that there would ever be enough time to heal from the pain.
Lydia frowned when she saw his body shake again. She stepped toward the bed again hesitating for less than a minute before sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing her hands up and down his arms. “I’m sure you’ll warm up soon.” She told him. The Nogitsune was dead, which meant Stiles should be getting better. Lydia knew it took time though, after all when the Nogitsune had taken her he was weak and by the end of the night...the weaker Stiles had gotten the stronger he got.
Lydia squeezed her eyes shut, the feel of his cold hands on her, his voice. She felt a shudder go through her body, but she ignored it. “It just takes time,” she mumbled, her hands still moving over his arms above the blanket.
Stiles tried to focus on the sound of her voice, on the fact that her hands were rubbing his arm through the blanket in an attempt to warm him. The more he tried, the more he pictured Allison, lying dead in Scott’s arms, blood everywhere. He felt the darkness beckoning him closer and even though the Nogitsune was dead, he could almost hear it whisper in his ear. Let me in.
Stiles passed out seconds later.
Lydia’s hands stopped moving when she realized his breathing was steady. She pursed her lips watching him for a minute before standing. He was out cold. She wasn’t sure if he’d fallen asleep or passed out, but sleep had definitely taken hold of him. His breathing seemed steady though. She would get Ms. McCall to come in and look at him anyway though, just to be safe.
Lydia turned and walked out of the guest bedroom into the upstairs hallway. She moved to where she heard voices earlier and knocked on the door, her chest tightening.
A second later, Melissa opened the door. “Come in,” she whispered, reaching out and laying a hand on Lydia’s arm, pulling her inside.
Lydia shifted back from Ms. McCall, sliding her arm gently from the other woman’s grasp. “I was just wondering if you could take a look at Stiles...make sure he’s okay. If you’re done here,” she said glancing toward the sheriff.
Her eyes were sad as she gazed at the pretty red-head. “Of course I will. Would you mind sitting with Michael for a few minutes while I check on Stiles? I just want to make sure he hasn’t lost too much blood.”
Lydia nodded. “I can do that.” She said as she watched Ms. McCall walk out of the room. She stood shifting on her feet as she glanced at the sheriff. “Do you need anything for the pain?” She asked, her voice a lot more calm than she felt. “I’m sure there’s some here,” she glanced around. Her legs felt odd like she’d been running on a treadmill for an extended period of time. Her stomach cramped and she ignored it while resting a hand on the dresser keeping her gaze on the sheriff, watching him like Ms. McCall asked.
“No, I’m okay, Lydia,” Michael said softly, even though he looked and felt like he’d aged several years in the last few weeks. He looked at her tiredly. “Why don’t you come sit down?” he suggested. He didn’t know much about Lydia’s parents, but he was under the impression that they not only didn’t know about all of the things that went on in Beacon Hills (and, he had to admit, he understood why people wanted to stay ignorant to said things), but that her parents weren’t around much period. Someone had to watch out for these children. He was the sheriff, but not only that, Lydia was the one girl that Stiles had loved his entire life. He wanted to protect her, keep her safe. Not only for her sake, but for his son’s.
Lydia wasn’t sure why the simple question made her heartbeat rocket in her chest or why she was suddenly feeling so sick. She didn’t want to sit down. She wanted to go back. She wanted them to listen to her warnings, to not come for her. They should have just left her there...She’d told them she didn’t want to be found. Lydia let out a shaky breath. “If you’re okay sheriff I should probably check on Scott. Make sure he’s healing.”
Michael's eyes were sad as he gazed at her, rising to his feet slowly. Aside from the dull ache in his chest and the pain in his shoulder where Melissa had stitched his wound, he felt okay enough to walk. “Let’s check on him together,” he said quietly.
Lydia pressed her lips together. “Are you sure you should be moving around?” She asked with a frown, “Stiles would be worried,” she told him matter-of-factly studying the wound on his shoulder for a minute before glancing back at him.
“I’m all right,” he assured her, well aware of how much his son worried about his health and safety.
Lydia watched the sheriff for a minute before nodding. “Okay, I think he’s still downstairs with Kira.”
Michael followed her out of the room and down the stairs, casting a glance toward the McCall’s guest room momentarily, his chest tightening.
Lydia gripped the railing tightly as she stepped off the last stair on shaky legs. She pushed herself forward and walked to the living room. Scott was in the same position he was in when she’d gone upstairs, Kira by his side.
She stopped a few feet in front of them and caught Kira’s gaze, Scott was still looking down. “I just wanted to make sure you’re wound was healing.” She said her gaze shifting to Scott. He’d gotten hurt during the battle with the Oni, Kira too.
Michael came up behind Lydia taking in Scott and his chest tightened as he reached out and rested a hand on the teenager’s shoulder.
Wordlessly Scott reached down and lifted up his shirt, revealing the smooth skin that had already healed over, even if there was still blood staining his shirt, his limbs, his chest. He didn’t look up, didn’t say anything.
Kira, however, looked up at them. “We need to get him into bed,” she whispered. “He’s exhausted.” They were all exhausted.
Lydia nodded, “I can bring him up,” she paused glancing at Kira, “Unless you want to.” she said not wanting to step on the other girls toes. She wasn’t sure if Kira was planning on staying with Scott or not, but if she was then he probably didn’t need her interfering.
“I should -- I should probably go home,” Kira admitted, looking a little uncertain. Her parents would be worried -- and even if she was angry with her mother because maybe if she’d just cooperated, things here could have turned out differently for everyone -- she didn’t want her dad to worry. She looked at Scott for a long moment. “Will you be okay? Do you want me to…”
“I’m fine,” Scott said almost inaudibly. “I’ll be fine.”
Kira hesitated knowing he couldn’t possibly be fine, but also realizing it might be a good idea to give Scott a little time. She nodded, “Okay, if you need anything just call.” She told him softly.
Lydia watched her get up and say goodbye to the sheriff and Scott. She nodded at Kira when the girl say goodbye to her, but she kept her eyes on Scott. When she heard the front door close Lydia reached out and rested her hand carefully on Scott’s arm. For some reason at the moment touching people just seemed to heighten the emotions and voices inside of her.
But when she felt Scott’s skin warm beneath her hand that was all she felt. Nothing got worse than it currently was and that was a relief. “You should rest, come on.” Lydia gave him a gentle tug. Allison would never forgive her if she didn’t take care of Scott. The thought alone nearly made a sob fall from her throat, but she sucked it back refusing to release it.
Finally Scott looked up at her, swallowing hard and rising to his feet silently. He paused, looking at Sheriff Stilinski. “Are you okay?” he asked, the first words he’d uttered in a while.
Michael’s expression softened at Scott’s question. “I’m fine son, your Mom already patched me up, good as new,” he responded, “How are you holding up?” he asked knowing it was most likely a waste of a question. None of them were alright, Michael knew that.
Scott just nodded, looking dazed and tired. “I’m fine,” he said quietly, voice distant. “Stiles? Is Stiles okay?” He looked toward the stairs and then started moving toward them, needing to check on his best friend and see for himself that he was still alive. That he was still there.
Lydia watched him go; understanding the need to make sure Stiles was okay. She’d felt the same way. She stepped forward glancing at the sheriff, “You should probably get some rest too,” she told him as she followed behind Scott.
Michael wished Lydia would take her own advice. He walked towards the stairs behind her figuring at least if everyone was up there he and Melissa would have a better chance of getting them to rest.
Scott reached the top of the stairs first heading for his room and frowning when he didn’t see Stiles. “Where is he?” He asked turning into time to see Lydia at the top of the steps.
“Guest room.” She said quietly.
Scott turned and walked over to the guest room pushing the door open. He tilted his head at the sight of his best friend sleeping and some of the pressure eased in his chest, but not much. Scott glanced at his Mom, “How is he?”
Melissa looked up at her son, at how tired and frail he looked. She was so worried about all of them, about how they were going to get through this. Allison had been his first love, and even though they’d been broken up for months, she knew her son well enough to know that he was crushed. She looked down at the frail boy who lay in their guest bed, troubled eyes watching the way he shook beneath the blankets even in his unconscious state. He was freezing. His temperature was much lower than it should have been.
“I’m going to get him started on a saline IV,” she admitted, concerned about the things she couldn’t see, like dehydration. She smoothed some hair back from his face and he didn’t move. She rose to her feet, moving over and reaching out to cup her son’s cheek in her hand.
“He’s going to be fine...right? We saved him. He killed the Nogitsune. He’s going to be fine.” Scott repeated needing his Mother to confirm the words, needing her to tell him that he wasn’t going to lose his best friend too.
Her expression was pained, but she nodded. “He’ll be okay, Scott. He’s just in shock right now.”
Scott nodded his gaze going back to Stiles’ still form. It looked unnatural for him to be so still. Stiles was never that still. He was always moving, doing something. But not right now. He looked away from his friend and down at the ground. “How long, how long until he’s awake?”
“I don’t know,” she said softly, honestly, looking back at Stiles and squeezing his arm gently. “It might be awhile.”
“Okay,” He said with a nod. “I’ll wait.” He shifted and sat on the edge of the bed near Stiles’ legs. Scott rested his arms on his own legs and leaned forward.
Lydia slipped by the sheriff and moved into the bedroom. She sat carefully on the edge of the bed near Stiles’ head, her hands automatically going to the hem of her dress picking at the material.
Melissa hesitated a moment. “Why don’t you two lie down with him?” she suggested quietly. “It might help him warm up faster.” Mostly she just knew they needed to lie down and she had a suspicion if they believed doing so would help Stiles in some way, they would do it. She met Michael’s eyes as he stood at the door, gaze lingering on his son until he looked at her.
“I’m going to get some more supplies and I’ll be back.” Melissa squeezed his arm gently.
Scott nodded. If he could help Stiles warm up he would. He glanced at Lydia meeting her gaze and she sent him a slight nod. He stood and then climbed onto the bed carefully on Stiles’ right shifting to try and get comfortable.
Lydia hesitated before doing the same thing except on the opposite side so that she and Scott were facing each other with Stiles between them. She slid her hand slowly over Stiles’ bundled body resting it above where she imagined his heart would be if he didn’t have blankets piled on top of him. He had to be okay. Lydia couldn’t lose anyone else. None of them could.