Beyond The Sea 4/4

Title: Beyond the Sea
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Rating: PG-13
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, Derek Hale
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.
Parts: 4/4
Previous Parts: | One  | Two | Three |

Part Four

Stiles woke up slowly the next morning, wondering how he’d managed to wind up under the covers of Scott’s bed when they’d been laying on top of them. He opened his eyes slowly to find Scott sprawled out on his stomach beside him, still dressed in his suit and looking exhausted. One of his arms was hanging off the edge of the bed. His head was throbbing, like he’d gotten really, really drunk the night before and he was hungover, which he definitely hadn’t and therefore couldn’t be.

He peered at the clock on Scott’s nightstand. six thirteen in the morning. He rubbed a hand over his face wearily, bones aching as he sat up slowly, trying his best not to wake the sleeping werewolf. He managed to climb out of bed without too much trouble, looking down at his best friend for a long moment and then reaching down and pulling the covers up and around Scott’s shoulders.

Stiles made his way out of the bedroom and into the hallway listening but hearing nothing. He wondered if his dad had just decided to go home at some point the previous night, figuring he was okay there for the night. He paused outside Ms. McCall’s room, and then passed the closed door, catching sight of an unexpected figure in the guest room. The door was cracked open just a little and he stared inside at Jackson and Lydia, curled up together in the bed sleeping.



Probably should have seen that coming, he thought tiredly, though it hadn’t actually occurred to him even when Jackson had offered to drive Lydia back after Allison’s funeral. Swallowing hard, he pulled the door shut silently and walked down the stairs on shaky legs, shivering and wrapping his arms around himself despite the fact he was still wearing his suit jacket. He spotted Isaac on the sofa almost immediately.

Stiles pulled his shoes on at the front door and reached for the handle before turning around and looking at the house, memorizing everything that he could. He wasn’t going to be seeing it again. He contemplated pulling his phone from his pocket and texting his dad that he needed a ride home, but on the off chance that his dad was still in bed, he decided he’d just walk. It was a few blocks and he felt like crap, but the fresh morning air would at least help him clear his head enough to start formulating his plans.

By the time he made it home he was shivering uncontrollably and barely made it up the porch steps. He sat down hard in one of the chairs, teeth chattering and wondered idly if this was how bad Malia had felt when she said she was cold all the time. He wondered if she managed to turn herself back into a coyote and realized he’d never asked Scott if he’d been able to help her with that. He felt like he should care more about it than he did, but while he hoped she was okay, he wasn’t exactly hoping to see her again. Sleeping with her had been a stupid decision on his part. He’d been afraid, convinced he was about to die, and he’d missed Lydia. He hadn’t wanted to die a virgin. Jesus, he was so screwed up in the head. He laid his head in his arms the way he had the day before in the McCall’s bathroom.

The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that Isaac was completely right. He had screwed everything up far too badly, had hurt everyone he cared about, had killed Allison even if it wasn’t with his own two hands. It was time to stop being selfish and do the right thing.

Stiles rose to his feet slowly, unlocking the front door and stepping inside the house. He wasn’t surprised to see his dad sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee and reading the paper. “Morning.” His voice was quiet.

Michael glanced up frowning when he saw his son. “Morning...how did you get home?” He asked folding his paper and putting it down beside him as he took in his son’s shivering form. He was doing everything in his power not to get up and smother Stiles. He knew that he needed to give Stiles a little space, but he still worried...a lot.

“I walked,” he admitted, moving into the kitchen and pulling down a clean mug from the cabinet and pouring himself a cup of hot coffee. Normally he added sugar to it at least, but he didn’t this morning. It would be the first of a lot of things he was going to change. He took a long drink, resisting the urge to make a face because as bitter as it was, it wasn’t as bitter as the aftertaste of the death and destruction he’d recently caused. Nothing could ever be that bitter.

Michael watched his son, something was different about him, but he wasn’t quite sure what. “You could have called, I would have come.” He offered folding his hands on the table. He was silent for several seconds before sighing. “What’s going on Stiles?”

Stiles' expression was pained at his dad’s question. He sounded so tired. So defeated. It was just another reason to add to his list. He was silent for a moment and he slowly moved over to sit down across from him, wrapping his hands around the mug tightly so that his hands wouldn’t shake. “I know you would have.” He didn’t look at him for a few seconds and when he did, his chest was tight. “Dad...there’s something that...we need to talk about.” And he knew his dad wasn’t going to like it at all.

______

Scott rolled his neck back and forth as he made his way down the steps. It had been a day since Allison’s wake and he hadn’t been up for going to school just yet so he’d taken the day off. Isaac was with Chris Argent and his Mom was working. It was just him and while he was glad he had some time to himself, he didn’t exactly want to be alone.

He walked to the front door and pulled it open to check the mail. Ever since the wake people had been delivering a lot of stuff to the house, cards, flowers, food. His mom had tried to explaining that they should send everything to Chris, but apparently no one seemed to be listening.

Stiles had been gone the other morning when he woke up and he figured now might be a good time to call him to come over and see how he was doing.

Scott reached into the mailbox and pulled out a bunch of envelopes, some bills, and a DVD? What the hell. He frowned at the small white slip of paper covering the DVD. Scott made his way back into the house closing the door behind him. He moved into the kitchen and put the mail down there before turning the DVD over in his hands.

Scott took the stairs two at a time heading to his bedroom so he could pop the DVD in his player and see what it was. Scott swallowed hard and bent down messing with his DVD player until he was able to open it and get the video inside.

Scott glanced around looking for the remote. He found it on the floor and bent down lifting it up. He reached out and pushed play, curiosity getting the better of him as he waited for it to start. When Stiles’ image filled the screen confusion crossed Scott’s face and he made the volume louder listening to what his friend was saying.

“Hey, Scottie.” Stiles looked and sounded as tired as ever, but there was something else in his tone, too. Something that made Scott’s stomach twist with dread even though his friend had only said two words. Resignation.

“First of all, I want to say I’m sorry for doing it like this, but...I couldn’t face you this time.” He looked down at his hands for a moment, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “I’ve gotta go for awhile. And I know my timing is really awful and I’m sorry for that, too.” He definitely sounded sorry, like he was just at the end of his rope and it scared Scott. “I uh -- I talked to my dad and I’m gonna be out of town. I don’t...exactly know for how long. I don’t actually know where I’m going, either. I just have to go.”

He drew in another ragged breath. “This isn’t really how I planned anything. But I think my plans kinda usually end up sucking anyway, right?” He smiled but it was a pained smile. “There’s some stuff I need to do. I realize how vague that sounds and I know you deserve an explanation and maybe one day I’ll be able to explain it to you and you’ll understand.” He rubbed a hand over his face, and Scott could see the tears shining his best friend’s eyes. Could hear the grief and guilt in his voice. “I’m so sorry, Scott. I know you don’t blame me and I love you for that. And for a million other reasons. You’re my brother and this is…” He watched as Stiles wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

“I’m just sorry. And as per usual I have to be an asshole and follow up my apologies by asking you for two things. Look after Lydia. I mean, I know you will, but I don’t want her to be alone and I don’t want you to be alone either and maybe you guys can...take care of each other. I know I don’t have to ask you to look after my dad. I know you’re gonna do that anyway. You’re a good guy, Scott. The best guy I know aside from my dad.” He swallowed hard. “The second thing is...please don’t try and find me. Don’t look for me. I’m gonna be okay. I’m gonna be fine. I just need some time to clear my head and take care of some things I’ve been putting off. And...don’t blame yourself, okay? None of this was your fault, dude. Take care of yourself.” He exhaled. “And please don’t hate me.” The last request was whispered. “I know this makes me the shittiest friend on the planet, but...please don’t hate me anyway.” Stiles was silent for a moment. “I guess that was actually...four things. You know math isn’t really my best subject though.” He shrugged a shoulder.

“I love you, Scott. I just...I have to do this and it has to be now.” He chewed his lower lip. “You uh -- I’m leaving the keys to my jeep with my dad. You guys can use it if you ever need to. And uh -- you know, all the PS3 games and everything. You can take whatever you want. I’m not bringing them with me.” He hesitated for the briefest of moments. “I guess that’s...basically it. I’m not gonna say goodbye because this isn’t...I mean it isn’t a permanent thing and goodbye’s just...really overrated anyway.” He smiled, but it was strained. “Be safe. You’re gonna be okay.” Stiles reached out and the picture faded to black.

Scott stared at the screen silent for several minutes before he slowly sat on his bed and dropped his head down, tears falling from his eyes. He didn’t hate Stiles, he couldn’t. But he wished his friend would have talked through this with him. Leaving, being all alone out there somewhere after everything that had happened...cutting himself off from the people who loved him, that couldn’t be good or healthy.

And for more selfish reasons, what the hell was he going to do without Stiles? The past month had been hell without him and he had still been in town. But now...Scott shuddered as he gripped his head in his hands. He felt antsy in his own skin. This was the second pack member he’d lost and the loss...even though it wasn’t the same was as Allison, was devastating.

He stayed like that, head in hands, tears streaming down his face for a long time. Scott wasn’t even aware of how long until he noticed it was starting to get a little darker in his room. He glanced up and stared out the window for a minute. He needed to rip the band aid off. Scott pushed himself up and shook his head still not able to believe it was happening. Stiles was gone and Scott had no idea when he was coming back. His chest tightened and he stepped forward toward his desk to grab the keys to his bike. He’d tell his Mom when he got back, hopefully she’d be home by then, but until she was...he had to go tell Lydia something Scott was not looking forward to doing.

_______

Lydia stood in the middle of her bedroom. She wore a pair of cotton shorts and one of Stiles’ old shirts that she’d borrowed over the summer and had never given back. Something was bothering her. All day she’d felt like something was off. Not that, that was surprising, something was off. Allison was gone.

Jackson had left for London a few hours ago and she was once again alone in her cold dark house. Lydia sighed. Her gaze fell on the picture of her and Allison and she felt her chest tightening. She couldn’t keep doing this. She couldn’t keep getting this upset. She had to accept what happened and move on...But how?

Lydia shook the thought away and moved out of her bedroom and toward the stairs. She needed a drink. Maybe after some hydration she’d be able to figure out what the hell she was going to do to keep her mind off of things because so far nothing was working.

Scott stood outside of her house for several long moments, filled with utter dread and sorrow at the news he was about to deliver. He knocked lightly on the door in case she was sleeping, but he could hear footsteps moving through the house, and then coming closer to the door and he shut his eyes. God he didn’t want to do this. Not now. Not after everything else.

Lydia’s chest tightened at the sound of a knock on the door and the immediate hope that filled her chest. It wasn’t her, it was never going to be her. She swallowed hard, gripped the handle and pulled open the door. “Scott...Hey.” She said a hint of confusion on her face. It wasn’t often that Scott dropped by.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Do you uh -- do you have a few minutes?” He swallowed hard, listening to hear if there was anyone else in the house. When he didn’t hear anymore heartbeats aside from Lydia’s, he looked back at her, troubled.

Lydia nodded, “Sure,” she opened the door wider so he could come in not liking the look on Scott’s face. “Everything okay?” She asked motioning for him to follow her to the kitchen.

Scott stepped inside her house, raking a hand through his hair. He’d only been there a handful of times in all the years that he’d known her. It was a nice house, but considering how big it was and how it was just her and her mom most of the time, it felt like it would be an incredibly lonely house to live in. “No, not...not exactly,” he admitted quietly, following her into the kitchen.

Lydia turned to face him and she hesitated, “What’s going on?” She asked tension filling her body. She took a minute to look at Scott, really look at him and he didn’t look okay. It made her chest tighten.

Scott looked down at the floor, then shut his eyes. “When I woke up this morning, I had a DVD in my mailbox. It was from Stiles.” His voice was quiet.

At the mention of Stiles Lydia’s heartbeat picked up speed. “Is he okay?” She asked immediately her brows drawing together.

He rubbed his hand over his face tiredly, feeling like he was approaching another breakdown. He moved over and sat down at the table. “Lydia, he’s...he left town. And I’m not sure if he’s...gonna come back.”

“Is this some kind of joke?” She asked her heart thumping erratically against her chest. She could hear it echoing in her ears that’s how fast it was going. Lydia felt physically sick. She took a step back and a wave of nausea hit her. Her already pale face paled further as her hands reached for something to keep her up right.

“Stiles wouldn’t just leave,” she said her breathing growing heavy, “He wouldn’t just leave without telling me,” she repeated the words. Not after what happened with Jackson when he left for London the first time, not after Stiles knew what that had done to her.

Tears pooled in his eyes and he exhaled shakily. “I think...that he feels responsible for…” He couldn’t bring himself to say her name. Not in the context of Stiles feeling to blame for her death. Connecting the two things together made him feel ill. “He said that he needed to get away and that he was sorry.” He looked up at her, expression stricken.

Lydia pressed her back against the counter her head falling as a soft sob broke free from her throat followed by an onslaught of tears. Stiles was the last person she had left that she could count on. He had always been there for her...he was her constant, her rock. She was supposed to help him get through this...they were supposed to help each other.

Her breaths came in short gasps as she rested a hand against her heart. God it hurt, it all hurt so bad.

Scott quickly got to his feet and moved so that he was standing in front of her. Wordlessly he reached out, wrapping his arms around her tightly even as a tear trickled down his cheek, too. The losses just kept piling up and he didn’t know how they were supposed to deal with it. He was an alpha, but he was seventeen. The girl he loved had died, his best friend blamed himself and split town. How was he supposed to help anyone when he was struggling to deal with everything himself? Stiles was always the person he leaned on, too. The one who had the plan. The one who figured everything out.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, holding onto her tightly. “I’m sorry, Lydia.”

“I can’t do this anymore,” Lydia said quietly, “I’m done. I’m out or whatever,” she shifted back her heartbeat still erratic. “I can’t keep doing this, I won’t,” she whispered as she turned away from Scott. “It’s too much and what I feel...something’s wrong. There’s too much inside of me and I can’t I just can’t do this anymore.”

Scott squeezed his eyes shut. He wished it was that simple even if it hurt. “Lydia,” he whispered. He laid a hand on her shoulder. “I think he just...I think he’s just really lost right now. He didn’t want to hurt us. It’s not...he’s not like that.”

Lydia turned to face Scott, “You think I don’t know what he’s like?” She asked anger in her voice, but she wasn’t mad at Scott. “We could have helped him find himself that’s our job, to bring him back. It’s my job. I failed the first time. I didn’t listen I didn’t understand what they were trying to tell me. It was my job to save him and instead I ignored it...and then,” she paused, “I can’t keep doing this, everything I’m feeling ever since that night...it’s slowly killing me from the inside,” she told him. “Maybe, maybe it’s better this way. Maybe we all need to just do our own thing maybe Stiles is right.” Lydia said as she turned away from him again and rested her hands on the kitchen counter.

She didn’t mean the words...not really even though maybe there was a tiny part of her that wanted their normal lives back, one where Allison would be there and Stiles didn’t feel the need to deal with his pain alone.

His expression was pained as he listened to her words, knowing she was angry at herself. That like Stiles, and Isaac and himself, she blamed herself for what happened, no matter how far off base that blame was. “Lydia. It isn’t your fault. It isn’t any of our faults.” His voice was stronger, even if he did feel responsible. “It was that demon’s fault. Not yours. Not Stiles’. Not mine. I don’t blame you for any of this.” He stepped closer, eyes tearing up. “And I can’t lose you, too, Lydia. I can’t.”

Lydia swallowed hard, the pain on Scott’s face making her heart clench. She hesitated before stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him. Lydia held onto Scott tightly. “I just got him back,” she whispered, “I didn’t know how much he meant to me...I didn’t.” She voiced the words she’d eventually wanted to tell Stiles when things settled down to his best friend instead. “I don’t know how to function with them both gone...I’m not sure I can.”

Scott hugged her back tightly again, not surprised by her admission. He knew how close she and Stiles had gotten over the last few months. Knew that she turned to him a lot when she needed to talk. “I know,” he whispered. “And Stiles loves you. He’s always loved you.” He swallowed hard. “And I don’t know how to do this either. I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t...I don’t know how to get through this without him. Without either of them.” A sob escaped him and he buried his face against her shoulder, grief threatening to overtake him. “But if we don’t stick together now, I don’t think that...I don’t think that any of us will get through this, Lydia. I need your help.” He lifted his head to look at her. “I can’t do this alone.”

Lydia ran a hand down his back his words making her chest tight. She nodded. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said finally. “I’m here and I promise, I won’t leave you.” She closed her eyes hanging onto his words. She knew he was telling the truth. But sometimes love obviously wasn’t enough. Her heart clenched. “We’ll figure this out...we’ll watch each other’s backs.” Her stomach clenched. The way Allison used to...the way Stiles did.

____________

The drive to the bus station had both been entirely too short and yet somehow felt like an eternity. Stiles was half afraid that Scott would wind up tracking him down and talking him out of what he was doing. Or worse yet, that he’d track Stiles down and he’d have Lydia with him. No way he’d be able to be strong enough to turn around and leave them if he had to face them at the same time. It was hard enough just having his dad here. He knew his dad wasn’t really one hundred percent on board with Stiles’ plan to leave, but they’d spent hours talking about it and he thought that his dad had finally understood where he was coming from, even if he didn’t agree with him.

He’d been careful not to tell Scott in his video, or his dad in person, the main reasons he was really wanting to leave Beacon Hills. If either of them had any real inclination that they thought he was leaving for their own good, he knew neither would have let him go. They wouldn’t realize that it was the best for them. So he’d focused on his own sense of guilt. His own need to get away. He’d made it about himself because he knew his dad and Scott both well enough to know they’d never stand in his way of getting away from the insanity of the small town for the sake of his own sanity. And while that had factored in, too, it was mostly because he knew leaving was the best for them. They were better off with him as far away from them as possible.

Stiles sat silently in the lobby of the bus station beside his dad, wearing his red hoodie even though it was over 80 degrees outside today. Stiles was still so cold. He was making every effort not to shiver, not to look half as sick as he felt because he didn’t want his dad’s final memory of him for the foreseeable future to be that kind of image.

Michael was silent as he sat beside his son, his chest tight. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to just let him go. He didn’t want to. He wanted to tell Stiles this was the stupidest idea he’d ever heard. But he couldn’t do that, not when Stiles felt this was what would help him heal. Michael let out a shaky breath ignoring the people moving around them, the people who were blissfully ignorant of how bad things had been nearly four days ago. Who didn’t know the sacrifices that had been made to save the town they lived in. “Do you have everything you need?” He asked quietly.

Stiles looked down at the single duffel bag he’d packed. It held the very bare minimum of what he’d need. A few changes of clothes, his toothbrush, his razor, his shampoo and soap and deodorant. His laptop. Three frame pictures tucked carefully between his clothes. A book to read on the bus. And his pillow. He looked at his dad sideways. “Yeah,” he said just as quietly, remembering all too well how hard it had been for his dad to leave him at Eichen House for three days, let alone for the man to put him on a bus out of town with no real knowledge of when he’d be coming back.

Michael swallowed hard and nodded. He turned angling his body towards Stiles, the chair squeaking beneath him. “You remember, the second you want to come home, the instant you call me and I will bring you back home. All you have to do is say the word,” he reminded his son, still hoping that he’d change his mind.

Stiles’ chest tightened and he nodded. “I know, Dad,” he whispered. “And I will when I’m ready. I promise.” He heard the announcement on the loudspeaker.

“Bus 372 will be departing for Van Nuys in fifteen minutes. Please begin boarding now.”

Michael closed his eyes. “There’s still time to change your mind,” he whispered opening his eyes and meeting his son’s gaze. “It’s not too late.”

Yes it is, he thought sadly. Wordlessly he leaned over and wrapped his arms around his dad tightly. “I love you. You know that right?”

Michael wrapped his arms around Stiles tightly, tears burning his eyes. “I know,” he said gruffly gripping the back of Stiles’ head with his hand, “I love you too, Stiles. Always, no matter where you are.” He told his son quietly.

He held his breath as he clutched onto his dad for a long moment, nodding against his shoulder. “It won’t be forever,” he said quietly, voice strained. “I promise.” He pulled away and drew in a shaky breath, reaching down and picking up his bag. “Oh. And Dad?”

Michael stood slowly watching his son heft his bag up. “Yeah?” He asked as he rubbed the back of his neck needing something to do with his hands.

“Ask Melissa out.” He turned to face him, raising his eyebrows. “I don’t think Scott’s dad’s planning to leave town anytime soon and we both know you’re a much better option so don’t…” He shook his head. “He may have done you a favor but he’s still a douchebag and she deserves better and so does Scott. So...ask her out.”

Michael blinked, “I,” he paused and shook his head soft chuckle leaving his throat. “Only you would make that kind of demand,” he joked and then sighed, “Don’t forget to check in Stiles, I’m serious.”

A faint grin touched his mouth. “More like sage advice,” he informed his dad, for the briefest moment feeling like things were normal. That he was himself again. But when his dad sighed, his smile slipped once more and he nodded. “I will. I promise.” He hesitated and then hugged his dad again. “Be careful. Please stay safe.”

“You too,” he said as he returned the hug. He heard Stiles’ bus being called again on the loudspeaker and he released his son and swallowed hard, “I love you...we all do.”

He knew that. It was probably why it made everything hurt a lot more than it would have if they didn’t. “I love you, too, Dad.” He clutched his fingers around the strap of his duffel and took a deep breath. “Talk to you soon.” He smiled but it was faint and didn’t reach his eyes. Then he turned, walking toward the terminal. He handed the driver his bus ticket when he climbed on board, taking a seat near the middle of the bus and sitting down by the window, raising his hand in a wave at his dad even as tears prickled at his eyes.

He felt someone sit down beside him but he didn’t look over. Didn’t feel like making small talk with a stranger. He leaned his head against the window as the bus began to pull away a few moments later. Watched his father disappear from view and a short while later, Beacon Hills, as well.

“Van Nuys your final destination?” the older woman beside him asked curiously.

Stiles didn’t look over at her. “No.”

“It’s mine. Where are you heading?” she asked, pulling a magazine from her bag.

He was silent for a moment. “I have no idea.”