When Scott dreams, he dreams of Allison.
Of dark hair and light pink lips that form a bright smile. Of soft brown eyes and skin that's feather soft. Of bows and arrows and chinese ring daggers.
He dreams about the different stages of her. The girl he first met on her first day of school. The unforgiving hunter that only seemed to care about killing werewolves and him. And lastly, of the girl she became when she was making things right again.
Scott knows which one he dreams of as soon as he sees her. The girl he met on her first day of school comes as shy smiles and a light blush on her cheeks. She's free of any scars her life with him had given her and laughs as though she didn't have a worry in the world. This Allison smells like flowery scented lotion and baby powder. Her long hair is always in curls and his name is always the first thing on her lips.
In Scott's mind he likes to think of her as 'Ally'. Something that sounds like strawberry lip gloss and a blue beanie framing warm brown eyes.
The hunter always looks at him with a hard face and lingering hints of anger. But not at him, Scott knows that anger isn't directed towards him, that never stops the way his heart stumbles whenever he sees it though. Can't help the way he wants to flinch back and reach out to her at the same time and tell her 'it's going to be okay'. It's only when that hard face crumbles and her features fall into something more desperate, more lost, and her distorted voice tells Scott he's the only one she trusts that he forces his foot forward and wraps his arms around her. Her skin burns him on contact but he never lets go. This Allison smells like raw anger and wolfsbane and leaves a metallic taste on his tongue.
When he sees her, his mind rings out a sharp, biting Allison. Something as cold as steel and an unquenchable fire licking at his heels.
The last one, his last Allison, shows with blood staining the seam of her lips. Her short brown hair tucked behind her ears and a soft smile of what seems like acceptance on her lips. He hates it. Hates it as much as he hates the way his fingers start to tremble with the need to touch her. But Scott won't. He never does no matter how much his hands ache to.
Scott forces himself not to look at the wound in her stomach, but soon enough the blood forms a larger stain on her clothes and there's no way he can't see it. Even if he's just focusing on her face, he can see red spread and spread and spread- Until blood eventually seeps through her lips as well and she reaches out a pale shaking hand to him (with that soft smile still curving her mouth). By then all of him aches to hold her, but he knows what will happen as soon as he does and Scott hates himself because he gives in every time. He always gets to her just in time for her to collapse into his arms. To feel her fingers, two wrapped in the soft leather of her glove and two bare, ghost over the skin of his cheek before her whole arm goes limp and she turns into ash in his embrace.
Scott doesn't want to give this one a name. Doesn't want the taste of blood and ash in his mouth when he sees her. Doesn't want to hear the echo of 'It's okay. I love you.' that burns his ears each time it rings in them.
He always wakes with a sob from that Allison. He brushes his teeth three times just to get the taste of ash out of his mouth.
