Lounging back on the chair desk in Scott's room, Stiles rocks silently back and forth. His eyes trained onto the heater where he'd changed Scott up only months earlier. Fragments of his mind flooding across his mind, screams and shouts of confused friends and strangers, unsure of what his body did to them to see such terror in their eyes.
Lying across the bed staring at the ceiling of his bedroom is Scott, staring at the ceiling without a word, Allison's beautiful smile and hair dancing through his memory, her large eyes, dimpled cheeks and larger than life smile. Gone. No more laughter and life from the strong and brave, Allison Argent. A million questions run through his mind, What if she didn't go? , What if Isaac was stronger? , What if, what if, what if.
There is to be no more what ifs for Allison Argent, the tormentor of Beacon Hills has claimed her, as it claimed her mother and Aunt. The women may be the leaders of the Hunters, but they are buried just as quickly and easily as the soldiers.
Knocking on his door, drawing his attention away from the ceiling, Scott looks over at his mother and father. Standing in the doorway, faces sunken if from no sleep and worry about their son. Looking at her son, Melissa shakes her head and tries to smile to him. Her heart broken along with his, Allison was a young life stolen too soon, never to grow old with grace, never to graduate, never to have children, never to love and live. Too young to be taken by something that was supposed to be good.
"C'mon boys, it's time to go. We've got to pick up Lydia before we -," she chokes up, holding a hand over her mouth she looks to the floor and shakes away the anguished sob.
"OK, mom," Scott replies, pulling himself up off of his bed he looks to Stiles who stands with a flat expression. No humour of happiness left in his pale, young face.
With their too big suits and solemn looks of sadness, the two boys walk from Scott's room. To say their final goodbye to the great and beautiful Allison Argent.