After reading "They Say The Good Die Young" by mcmargenttinski713 on Archive of Our Own, I was inspired to write this what-if situation. What if Scott saved Allison and died in the process? How could it have happened? So, I don't own the idea of changing the events in 3x23, nor do I own Teen Wolf (Jeff Davis). I am just a person, a teenager really, hiding behind a computer screen too afraid to face reality as a great show ends.
Footsteps resounded inside the narrow stone walls of Oak Creek. Scott could hear the fast beating of his best friend's heart as they both ran to reach the end. Scott gave occasionally tore his eyes from the path in front of him, letting the echoes of their footsteps guide him as he watched Stiles falter at times, taking more than a moment to breathe in.
Scott felt bad for him. Even without the Nogitsune situation, Stiles had it pretty bad. Hell, Scott thought to himself as they saw dead end, Stiles has it bad even without the supernatural pestering their lives on a daily basis. They already had high school to worry about, getting good grades to get accepted in a good college. Scott shook his head as he closed his eyes, concentrating on hearing Lydia's unsteady heartbeat that lead them astray. He and his friends, they have to live a life where they're always prone to the dangers of the supernatural all while dealing with their other equally real problems like living life. They had their futures to worry about, not just making it through the next day.
Scott's eyes flew open, hearing the heart beat again. They had missed the turn a few doors back. Instead of turning back to go to the missed turn, he mustered all of his energy to his fists before smashing the wall beside him, kind of like Danny Rand, creating a hole big enough for both him and Stiles to enter. Scott hissed at the pain his fists felt but he shook the thoughts and the pain off. It was better that way because going back meant losing a few more minutes. The make shift doorway had saved them time, at least 10 more minutes. "She's here, this way," Scott said, leading the way, a dim light glowing brighter at the end of the hall.
Running through the long hallway, Stiles fell behind sometimes and as much as Scott wanted to go back and help him, he kept going. He ran and ran until he reached a door dividing him from a circular room, something like a roofless underground silo. The metal bars felt cold to the touch, almost uncomfortable as he collided against them but that didn't matter to him. Because standing in front of him was Lydia Martin, resident fashion queen and smart girl of Beacon Hills all while being a banshee for the McCall pack.
Scott panted, catching his breath as he took Lydia into his sight, trying to see if there was anything wrong with her. "Lydia, are you alright?" Scott breathed in deep, trying to get himself under control as he checked her in every way he possibly could. She was fine, medically and physically. He saw no bruises, no wounds, and he listened to her heartbeat. She's in picture-perfect health, like her usual self. But her chemo-signals sent off something else, like a strong cocktail spelling out a disaster.
Scott only saw what was wrong when he broke the lock and opened the metal door. "No. No, no, no!" she muttered to herself as Scott took her arm, Stiles finally appearing from behind. He was so pale that darkness blended around him perfectly. "Why are you here?" both shock and concern was etched, written on her face as she was pulled from her prison cell. Scott finally figured out that maybe the something off his friend wasn't with Lydia herself. Maybe it was with the banshee inside of her.
"Lydia," Scott said, taking a moment to sort out the things in his mind. The thoughts that ran rampant in his eyes. "We're here for you," he said slowly, taking everything into consideration. Maybe she was just having trouble processing everything, Scott thought to himself as he studied Lydia with his wolf-eyes to be more thorough in finding anything wrong with her, maybe she's a bit wary of Stiles or maybe she's just in shock because of everything's that happened.
"You weren't supposed to be here!" Lydia hissed as her eyes adjusted themselves to the darkness, seeing Scott and Stiles a whole lot more clearly now. "You didn't get my message?" she paused for a while, leaving Scott speculating about the raging storm in her mind and the frantic beating of her heart that refused to let Scott have a moment's silence and a peace of mind. She was making him nervous and there are no words around the situation to say otherwise.
Scott stared at Lydia as if she grew two more heads like a Hydra. He stopped looking at her like his friend and more like a banshee, like the wailing woman who is always surrounded by death. Scott started to look at her, to envision her as a woman whose powers largely involved the matters of death and the soon-to-be dead of the realm. Lydia's a harbinger of death and Scott found himself taking smelling the air, trying to find out if anyone was dying out there.
"Lydia, what's happening?" Scott itched forward as if moving an inch away would have meant not hearing what she said or what she felt even if he was a werewolf with super hearing, with abilities that enabled him to pick up on things that humans couldn't. Not even most machines could pick up what he could.
Lydia ignored the question, instead her eyes far and thoughts deep. Scott was restraining himself from digging his claws into the back of her neck just so that he would know what she was feeling, if she was experiencing some kind of premonition or seeing someone's death right now. Scott needs to know so that he could save his friends. "Who else is here? Who came with you? Who else is here?" Lydia asked, her tone fast and and urgent.
Scott closed his eyes, tried to pick up on what was happening outside when a voice tapped on in his mind. "How do we stop them?" Scott heard someone say but he couldn't quite say who. There was another voice, this one much clearer than the first. Scott paled when he heard it, he had started running off in the other direction because the voice he heard was from Noshiko Yukimura and she yelled. Her voice was painfully honest and he could could smell it from the tunnels. She had lost the will to win this war.
"You can't!"
Scott ran and ran, as fast as he possibly could. From his back, he's heard tumbling and falling, like someone had tripped. He heard Stiles' heart beat, how it had faltered dangerously low. Scott wanted to yell at Lydia because he could smell her chemo-signals. She's afraid that Stiles is dying, but what he can smell from his best friend wasn't the scent death gave off. It was the smell of deodorant and sweat mixed with the almond milk he had drank earlier.
"Lydia," Stiles muttered as he slumped to the ground, his back against the wall. "Lydia, I can't. . .I can't," Stiles' voice eventually faded out in his throat and as much as Scott wanted to turn back and run to his aid, to be by his side, someone else needed his help more.
Scott ran away from Stiles because he knew his friend would be fine after this. The force that kept Scott running, however, was a metallic scent. Scott continued to run as he closed his eyes, letting the echoes of his footsteps guide him once more as he concentrated on whose scent it was, on who was dying from the fight ongoing outside the walls. It was almost predatory, how the scent managed to drive him crazy. And maybe it was predatory, but Scott was anchored, kept human by how familiar the scent was.
It was Isaac's blood.
Back in the hallways, though, Lydia felt something immensely wrong. She felt like she was being stabbed by a long and ancient sword but she couldn't explain the feeling. It was like how she was controlled by her powers to show up at places, at random places, only to find dead bodies surrounding her. While Lydia knew that she wasn't going to have a premonition, she knew that someone was going to die very soon and there's nothing she could do to stop it. She couldn't find it in herself to scream yet. She didn't have the pull in her gut that told her to scream, the force that strikes her that forces her to scream.
While Lydia didn't have what it usually took her to scream, by shit did she want to. Because she wants to prove everyone wrong. She and her friends, they won't show up to find bodies. . .no, they'll save lives this time. She won't lose anyone to any side, the dark side included.
Scott finally reached the door that lead to the outside court. At first, Scott had to shield his eyes from the light that found its way to his eyes. It had blinded him for a second. Scott was running blind until he walked up to a wire fence. He saw everything there, how Isaac was getting his ass kicked by the onis surrounding him, how Kira was just managing to stay on her feet and defend herself, how Allison's every arrow was shot down as it was met with a blade.
Scott sighed in relief. At least they weren't dying. They were losing, especially Isaac. But they weren't dying―again, especially Isaac because he has super, werewolf healing powers unlike the rest of the ones fighting―and that mattered most. That would have been enough to keep Scott out of the battle, hell, that would have been enough to convince Scott to go back to his friend but he didn't. He stood in front of the wire fence, listening to the people that needed him.
Even though Isaac is a werewolf, he could still die. The wounds might be too much and his healing may not trigger when he's had taken hits one too many times. Stiles is a different situation, a whole lot difficult to try and comprehend from a different level. He had just come of possession and he's still recovering. Stiles needed a nice, long weekend, something stress-free and this Nogitsune hunting was the exact opposite.
He could see it in Stiles. His best friend isn't dying, he's stronger than most but he can always snap and Scott could so easily lose his brother in a blink of an eye.
But then he saw it, Scott's jaw was left hanging after Allison drew another arrow. He could see that this one was different. The whole body and the tip was different than the rest; the rest was way straighter, smoother than the other arrows cut down by the onis the Nogistune possessed; the arrowhead was far more brighter in the moonlight, it had a different shade that Scott couldn't quite point out from the regular military grade titanium arrowheads Allison used.
The arrow had landed on an oni's chest. The shadow figure stopped for a moment, green light erupting from the wound. Scott smiled for a second. He felt hope for that second because he felt the mood shift. The Nogitsune was near and he could smell the fox's fear, the sudden positivism that rose from Noshiko's aura, the giddiness in Kira that gave him hope, the shock that was written on Isaac's face, and the smile that shone brightest on Allison's lips.
It was victorious and well. There was a glint of happiness and hope in everyone's eyes until Scott saw it. Two onis had appeared by Allison's side. She wasn't looking while one of them was poised to strike with the sword when everything seemed to fall back and go in slow motion; Scott ripped the wire fence, lucky that it wasn't connected to any source of electricity; Scott yelled at the top of his lungs and got everyone's attention, including Allison who managed to dodge and fight with her bow.
Scott felt everything go back to pace now. He breathed in relief as he fought off the oni―wait, one?―slashing around even if he was sometimes sliced by the arm. It was nothing to him, anyway. Scott could always heal. All he had to do was protect Allison because she can't die. "Alliso-o-on!" that was when Scott heard Lydia the scream. He looked at her, Allison was fine. He was confused at first, because why would a banshee scream the name of a person who wouldn't―
There was a sickening blow.
Lydia could hear the blade enter Scott the bones crunching and the heart being punctured the sword going upwards. It had entered through Scott's stomach, she thinks. She could feel the pain just below her chest as the sword had hit his heart. She could feel her breathing come to a stop, the oxygen leaving his mouth as she fell to the ground sobbing. She just wanted to warn her friend, she needed more time to warn him, too. She thought that Allison could save him, could keep him anchored to life like the way she kept him anchored to his humanity.
Lydia screamed Allison's name, not how a banshee would scream for dying person. No, she screamed for her friend because Allison needs Scott―the pack needs Scott and maybe warning Allison could save him. Now, Lydia could only sob right next to Stiles, unconscious and motionless beside her knowing that she would scream again. But she would scream as a banshee, not as a friend, she would scream to tell the world that someone died and not to warn her friend that the man she loves is in danger of dying.
Now, Lydia realized because of her failure to both Allison and Scott, that her alpha is going to die.
Scott released the oni he had a vice-grip on when he felt the sword knock the air out of him. Because it was so cold, he saw the air escape his lips. Everyone stood shocked and surprised, probably wondering the same thing Scott was. 'Is he going to make it?' was probably the only thought everybody had in their minds. Others might have been a bit more regretful, blaming themselves for not doing something or not being fast enough but it's the same question.
But Scott knew the answer, and he was ready to live it. . .or die, in his case.
Honestly, he was ready to give up, to just lay on the ground to bleed out and die. He was going to do that because his eyelids felt so heavy―he's been fighting for so long, awake for such a long time―but that was until he saw an oni advancing its way up to Allison. Scott's jaws had tightened, his strength suddenly renewed by the impending threat lying in the shadows.
'Like hell they would!'
Scott pulled the blade out of his body, snapping it in half as he bent down and picked up an arrowhead, the one like Allison had used when she had killed the oni to save Isaac. He plunged the arrow into the oni's neck, letting the green light shine again before running off to stop the other shadow figure attacking Allison from the side. He heard her mutter under her breath, "Silver. . .silver's the answer!", the urgent need to voice it out loud was cut off when Scott stopped fighting.
The onis were gone. Scott smelled the air, trying to catch a scent of the Nogitsune. Except for this odd chemo-signal, there was nothing to catch, but he could sense that there was something entirely wrong, like there was something he had missed. The ringing in his ear was telling him that but he couldn't exactly point it out just yet, not when Allison was giving him that look. He loved that look, and yet at the same time, he hated that look. He loved that look on her face and hated the power it had over him.
It wouldn't take long for anybody to realize that he's not over her. He could learn to love Kira, yes, but Scott couldn't. Not at the moment. Not anytime soon, not when there's too much of a reminder to see what he could have had with her.
"Thank you," she muttered a thanks, silently looking into Scott's eyes to see if there was anything wrong. Scott closed his eyes for a bit. To Allison, it may have been like the normal routine. She had to make sure that Scott, he was okay with her and Isaac. There was silence between the two, an unsaid exchange of thanks, and even an unsaid proclamation of love. But it was for another time, maybe when they're given a second chance.
Maybe then, when he knows that they're meant for each other, Scott wouldn't let the words go unsaid.
Isaac groaned in pain loudly and Scott chuckled as Allison's eyes darted towards Isaac. She cared for him, but she doesn't love him enough and maybe after all of this, Scott will be the one to give them this one final push to be together. Maybe he could play cupid without the bow―he'll gladly leave that to Allison―and the diapers―that to Lydia's dog, Prada―because they have something, something even Scott could see no matter how painful it is to admit that Allison isn't his anymore.
"Scott," Isaac groaned in pain as Allison rushed towards his side. Scott stood standing, still at the same spot he was when he had been battling the last oni before it disappeared into thin air. "Need help, I. . .need. . .help, Scott," Isaac groaned again in pain, Allison's soft hands and manicured finger trying to patch him up with bandages she had packed earlier. She remembered them sitting by the bullets in the armory. She reminded herself to thank her father for being so overprotective because that will have saved Isaac in the end.
"It's okay, I'm here, and you're doing just fine." Allison said softly as she gently padded the wound with a bit of disinfectant before wrapping the gauze around his waist. She was right, Isaac is injured, but nothing too serious that his healing won't be able to handle. Probably a good night's sleep will help him recover.
"I. . .need help, Scott," Isaac muttered again. Allison grabbed the nook of his arm and placed two fingers on the spot near the veins. She gave a breathy chuckle and a smile of relief when she felt his heart beating steadily. Allison could see some of the minor cuts and scratches healing. He would be okay once this is all over. "Scott. . .need help," Allison frowned. She didn't understand why he was calling for Scott because the only thought in her mind was to patch him up, even Scott afterwards.
Then she remembered that Scott was a werewolf, Isaac's alpha. Maybe the pain was just too much for him. Maybe he needed Scott to take some of the pain. It was maybe some sort of werewolf thing, Allison thought to herself, that he'd have to rely on his alpha on situations like this. "Scott? Could you come over here? I need help with Isaac!" she yelled softly, trying not to agitate Isaac even more. Stress was bad for a patient, someone wounded.
Either way, Allison needed help with carrying Isaac.
"The Nogitsune," Isaac muttered and Allison immediate turned around, to try if the fox was back. She saw no one but Scott standing in the middle with a jaded expression on his face, something like the one a kid would have if he found himself lost in a carnival or something only without emotions. Allison shifted her foot as her heart hammered. Scott was standing in the same place before she rushed to Isaac, facing the exact direction as he did back then. "He's succeeded, he's not going to die, he did his trick, Allison," Isaac muttered in his trance, eyes still closed as Allison removed her fingers from his pulse point.
"Scott?" Allison called out, her bottom lip trembling when he didn't turn around to answer her.
"I. . .I need to help Scott, Allison. He's dying." Isaac's face fell and rolled to the side, finally knocked out of consciousness.
Lydia's back was still pressed against the wall, her arms snaked around her in an attempt to brace herself when the urge came knocking. She felt no air around her and her lungs ached for some oxygen. Her perfectly manicured fingers dug into her palm, drawing blood when her mouth flew open. She felt herself cry, feeling like a failure because maybe that's what she is. Lydia remembered Derek's sister, how she mocked her and her friends―Cora's right, because all she can do is find out where the lifeless bodies are.
"Sco-o-ott!" Lydia's ear piercing scream could be heard when Scott's knees buckled and gave him. Soon Scott was on the ground with Allison cradling his head.
"Scott? Can you hear me?" Allison tried, looking at the wound that was much different, much deeper than Isaac's. A sob almost escaped her lips when she tried to do what she was doing earlier. Clinically and unemotionally. "Scott, give me a sign, can you hear me?" she searched his eyes, the brown eyes she fell in love with as he shook him awake, trying to get some sort of response from him. She couldn't lose him, not when she lost so much people. . .not when he's the person who will always find her when even she loses herself.
Scott still looked dazed. "Lydia's. . .she's fine. Stiles and I, we saved her." Allison's heart ached. He's too selfless.
Too heroic, she thought to herself, and Allison knew that heroes always get the tragic endings. The Greek actually invented tragedies and that's because they knew their heroes and heroines don't get happy endings.
"The stars, Allison, they're so much brighter," he rasped out, but he wasn't looking at the stars. No, Scott was looking at Allison. "They're so much brighter than before," Scott smiled softly, his breathing dangerously shallow and uneven. "You look so beautiful under the stars, have I ever told you that?" Allison's lips had trembled as she pressed her hand against the wound on his stomach, holding herself and the sob in control.
"No, but you could start saying that to me, to Lydia, to Kira, to your Mom. . .to every single woman you see because we deserve to hear it from you," because there's no one else who would say it and it won't be as sweet and sincere if it came from anyone else, she wanted to add but she felt there was no time. Allison shook her head afterwards furiously. Of course there was time, it was just not the time and place to say it.
"Stiles, you have to. . .you have to make sure that he won't blame himself," Scott looked around, tried sitting up but hissed in pain when he did. He gave up in the end, maybe like the life he'd eventually stop fighting for, the breath of air he won't try and take. "You have to make him know, make him believe that he didn't do this," Allison shook her head. This wasn't their friend's fault because nothing was going to happen to him.
"My Mom, you have to tell her," his voice was drawn out longer than it was supposed to. Blood was already pooling in his mouth and the blood that stained her hand was already turning black. "You have to tell her I'm sorry and that I. . .I love her for everything that she's done and that I'm. . .I'm sorry for everything I've made her go through and for all the secrets that I kept from her and that I wasn't a good enough son that she deserved―" he rambled but she cut him off with a kiss.
Maybe it was to reassure him, that there was time. Maybe it was to reassure her, that he was still alive. Maybe it was because she wanted to feel his lips against hers when she could still feel him kiss back.
But he didn't kiss her back, so Allison pulled away, her hold on Scott tightening.
"No, don't say that. . .you are a wonderful son―besides, can't you say that yourself? I won't say this because you need to tell her yourself, Scott, don't make me say your goodbyes because you are not going anywhere!" Allison felt her heart breaking as she saw the lost look on his eyes.
"Why did you do that?" Scott asked, his breathing uneven and shallow still, ignoring everything she said as his eyes clouded and his eyelids continued dropping. Her stomach churned when she saw his glistening lips in the moonlight, the source of energy that was healing him, much like a mother who refused o let her son die.
Or prolonged his suffering, much like a lover who refused to let go even if they were both hurting already.
"Because I love you," Allison said, stroking Scott's face with her free hand. "Because you're my first love, because you're the first person I've ever loved, because you're the person I will always love," Scott shook his head. Allison rushed her words, as if wasting a second would mean he wouldn't hear her words. "I love you, Scott. Scott McCall, and I need you, so you can't leave me, you can't just give me the life I can have with you in it and just go!" she bent down and placed a kiss on his forehead, murmuring apologies and pleas and numerous proclamations of love.
Reasons why he can't leave.
"We'll always come back to each other, remember? Like. . .fate?" she gave a smile, hoping that he'd return it.
"There's no such thing as fate," he answered simply, his tone defeated, his voice drawing out with each breath he take.
"There's no such thing as werewolves," she gave a teary laugh, placing another kiss on Scott's forehead, tears unknowingly streaking her face.
"You and Isaac―" she cut him off, still cradling him like he was the only person that mattered in this world.
"I love him, but not how―not the way I love you. . .I will always love you more because it's you," she cared for Isaac but when it came to it, she would save Scott. No matter what had happened between them, what happens between them, Scott will always be the one. "It has always been you," she's still waiting for the day when she's ready to go back to him. She knows he's going to fall in love with others, that maybe he'll love Kira, but they'd wait for each other. That's the deal.
Allison loves Isaac. There's no questioning that, and because of the love she has for him, she's become a better person. That's what she needs, maybe, to become a different person from the girl she once was. Maybe she needs to meet other people first to be able to love him again, maybe Scott needed to fall in love with Kira first, meet other people. Maybe they both needed to meet other people―see other people―to become different people.
They needed to let go of who they were back then before they could be together again. Allison knew that they had the right love at the wrong time, that they weren't meant to be together without feeling certain feelings and experiencing certain events. Because if they did, if they had rushed in like the last time, it would end up the exact same way with the exact same reason why they couldn't end up together.
Allison knew that she needed to get rid of whatever traces of Gerard and Kate left her. She needed to change that, she needed to forget that she was capable of, that she could actually turn off her humanity and become this different person. And she knew that Scott needed to get that image out of his head, the hurt he had felt. They both knew that Scott needed to love again, to get his heart beating again for someone.
After achieving that, only after becoming the people they need to be will they finally be together. All they had to do was wait, to let nature take its course and work everything itself out. A small part Allison hoped that was the case, that in the end, they'll be together.
"Then you need to," Scott took a deep breath of air. "You have to fall in love again," Scott turned to Isaac's direction. "You have to love again, maybe not just the way you love Isaac now, but the way you love me. . .how you can't just count the seconds to be with her knowing that she's outside waiting for you, knowing that even if she's in love with another man," Scott lifted his and Allison's hand off the wound despite Allison fumbling to apply more pressure on the bleeding wound.
"I can't. . .I can never―you can't ask that from me, not that," Allison cried out.
"Promise me, Allison," she moved a bit, so that her free hand rest on his heart, listening to it beat. "Because I can pray to God. . .to whoever is listening, that you do," he said slowly, smelling the scent of her shampoo. A gentle lemon-scent brand that always made Scott smile.
"Then wait for me, like how you were always planning to," Allison said, stroking his face even if her fingers were wet with the blood fresh from his wound. "Because I cannot promise you anything like that," Scott smile sadly.
"You'll need someone," Scott insisted.
"I need you," Allison begged. "So please don't leave me, tell me what to do," Allison bent down, buried her face in the crook of her neck, sobbing. "Scott, don't do this," Scott placed a tender kiss on her forehead.
"Make sure that the pack. . .everyone is safe and protected. Stiles, that he won't blame himself. My Mom, make sure she knows," Allison tearfully nods as she felt eyes gathers on them.
Allison gulped. He's given up and he's going to die, maybe she needs to accept that, too. "She knows, Scott. Everyone knows," Scott wiped a tear from her eye.
"You have to love again, okay? Fall in love again, it will be just as amazing as the first time," Scott promised, struggling to take another deep breath of air.
"I love you, Scott," his test tightened.
"I. . .I'm sorry for everything that's―" she cut him off with soothing circular patterns being rubbed into his hands. It didn't take his pain, but it was something he enjoyed.
"No," Allison breathed out. "I don't want an apology to be the last thing you say to me, I don't want that to be our last memory," she shook her head gently and gently lulled him to rest, rocking his head ever so slowly.
Scott sighed, releasing a breath of air that came out of his mouth like smoke. It reminded Allison how limited their time is, how numbered his breaths were. "Then think of our future, graduating, returning after college," Scott traced her ring finger. "Imagine me proposing," he said wistfully as Allison pressed her trembling lips against the nook of his neck.
"Imagine me saying yes, us getting married, having kids, the white picket fence and everything―no more supernatural," Allison's tears stained Scott's shirt as her voice broke.
Scott coughed up black blood. Allison knew that time was near. "Imagine everything we're going to have. You can still have that, and while it's not with me, I will still be there," he promised. "It's painful, Allison. . .I. . .you know that I lov―" but he couldn't finish it, the blood kept pooling again and his heartbeat slowly died out. It killed her not to hear him say it, how she would have given so much to hear those words again.
She knows that it's killing him, too. How he couldn't say it back. 'How could he when she was happy with somebody else?' Her heart ached at the thought. 'How could he when he's dying?'
She pressed a final kiss on his temple before whispering. "I know. And I love you too." Her hand remained on top of Scott's chest, right above his heart. She had to give him mercy. Finally, when it was slow enough and when the moon hid behind the clouds, she knew that she could make the shot. End it clean so that he would stop hurting. With a quick move of the wrist, she snapped his neck and listen to heart stop. She closed his eyes and wrapped her arms around him tightly.
That was the night Allison Argent cried so hard, her tears coming to a stop because her eyes seemed to have run out. That was when a part of her―her heart―had died.