Hi! I'm Celeste, for those who don't know me (lol, everyone I guess). So, this is a translation of my story "Only Human" which is originally in Spanish, my native language. So, that said, I want to apologize for any mistakes that are on this, because I don't have a beta and even though my english is good, I'm not remotely perfect, so... Here it is!
Only Human.
All the eyes were fixed in the weak and shaky figure, as he gripped the Katana with tremendous effort.
"I have to do this, I have to… to save you…" Stiles repeated, his voice broken and so soft, as tears started to fall faster than before.
He just had to push the sword a little bit more, only a little, and let it sink into his stomach. And everything would finally end. The innocents would be safe; his friends and father too. He could not hurt them anymore.
"Stiles, don't" Scott's voice seemed so far away, even though he was only centimeters aloof. "Please".
Stiles, then, fixed his gaze on Scott McCall. It was the first time he had looked into his eyes since… since his hands had stained with blood, blood that belonged to his best friend. Every time he looked Scott, the only thing Stiles could see was the way his brother had suffered and moaned in pain; pain that he had caused, that he waws guilty of. He remembered pushing and twisting that sword inside of him, trying to hurt him badly; he remembered how good it felt to hear his screams, the satisfaction they gave to him. That, however, hadn't been the best of that, of course not, the Nogitsune inside of him wanted more. Absorbing Scott's pain, all that strife, chaos and hurt, had been gratifying, delicious… the best experience of his life. But, worst of all, that hadn't been the filthiest or terrible thing he had done in the short period of time he was possessed. And what he had done was the reason he couldn't even bear to stand in the same room as Scott.
He had killed Allison.
Allison, his best friend's first love, the girl he'd always love. But she hadn't been just that.
Allison, Lydia's best friend.
Allison, the beloved and only child of Chris Argent, his only family member left and the person he adored the most in the world.
Allison, the girl Isaac had fallen in love with.
Allison, the bravest and kindest person Stiles knew, his friend.
His Oni had stabbed her with a sword, right in the middle of her stomach (the same place he was aiming with the Katana at that moment), and only because had been smart enough to figure out how to stop the monster inside of him –or, well, outside, but it didn't matter.
Melissa McCall and Kira's mother, surprisingly, had told him multiple times that it wasn't his fault, that nothing was. He arrow in Coach's chest, the damages on the police station and the lives of police officers, Isaac being electrocuted, the sword inside of his best friend, Allison…
But he knew better. Stiles was guilty, and that was the final point; there were his hands the ones that took care of all his devil and perverse plans; it was his mind, weak and fragile, the one that had let the Nogitsune enter the ajar door inside of his brains; it was his voice speaking when he gave the order to kill one of his closest friends –although it didn't seem like it, Stiles and Allison had a very strong bond, and had formed a friendship during those last years of craziness in Beacon Hills. The only humans, the ones who were weaker than the rest (well, Allison was anything but weak, but he was still a person who bled and got hurt).
The loss of the hunter had caused a hole in the heart of every member of the pack, even Derek Hale (though he'd never admit that). Stiles noticed, like he did with everything; he wasn't an idiot. Lydia's sad smiles, Scott's empty eyes… and all because of him.
"It's all my fault" he told his best friend, with his lips trembling. "And I'm sorry, Scotty, I'm so sorry".
Sobs were breaking his throat, but he didn't care. He just wanted everyone to know how terrible he felt over his acts. He wanted to be forgiven, god he did, but it was impossible. How could he be, when so many lives had been lost, so many loved ones had been hurt?
"Do it!" The Nogitsune had been quiet and still, just watching the scene with a grin in his deformed mouth –it seemed to be a smile, but no one could tell. Until that exact moment, it hadn't said a single word, too busy feeding of the pain and the disgrace of the scene playing in front of it. But it felt like time was slipping fast through his fingers like sand, a feeling similar to a sand clock just about to end. "Do it now, Stiles, and put an end to all of this!"
The deep and grotesque voice made Lydia and Kira shake, and they let out a sob. They knew they couldn't let the Nogitsune see the way everything was affecting them (that'd only make all better for it), but, during that moment, when a member of their pack, an exceptional friend was on the verge of death, nothing mattered anymore.
"Stiles, please" the strawberry blonde tried to talk this time, with a trembling voice, full of fear.
The gaze of the young man was, now, on her, and Lydia could see how those black and purple bags under his eyes, similar to bruises, were bigger than ever, occupying half of his cheeks; his eyes were red because of the lack of sleep (she wondered when was the last time he had rested) and they were void, missing that characteristically spark that had belonged, some time ago, to Stiles. His face was completely pale, white like the dead bodies the Banshee was use to find by now, and his lips were the same color, only with a tint of blue that scared her even more. To simply put it, he looked dead, and, in fact, he already was. Or, at least, his soul and his mind were.
"Sorry, so sorry…" he kept saying and repeating like a mantra, looking at her with eyes full of guilt and terror. He had taken her best friend, he had kidnapped her, traumatized her, tortured her with words and inappropriate touches. Why did she talk to him so kindly? He certainly didn't deserve that.
"I swear, everything's going to be fine, okay? We'll find a way to stop it, but you have to drop the sword, now" The words came faster and more desperate. "Please, let the Katana go".
"Do it!" The Nogitsune screamed again, starting to lose his nerves.
Stiles looked at it.
"You promise it will be over? That they will be safe after all?" He whispered, gripping the sword with more strength; it seemed that the object was going to fall at any moment with the way it was shaking (in fact, Stiles' hands were the ones that were trembling so badly, and everyone in the room knew that).
The Nogitsune nodded with another unrecognizable grin, and Stiles didn't let his eyes wander on anyone except it, that creature that had taken everything away from him –friends, family, mind, soul, life–; remembering that riddle the dark Kitsune had told him, demanding for an answer.
Everyone has it, but no one can lose it. What is it?
Life, Soul, reason, mind… those were the first things he thought, the first things that had appeared on his mind, but it wasn't until his MCR that understood.
Life can easily get lost (running with wolves and hunters had taught him that), soul, the reason, the mind… everything he didn't have anymore… because he was weak and they were taken away from him.
But not his shadow, not the Nogitsune –his new shadow.
"No more tricks, Stiles. Just do it".
Scott, Lydia and Kira didn't stop looking at the monster either, with tears in their eyes. But that was a mistake (a horrible and huge mistake), and it wasn't until second later that they realized that, that they should've posed their attention on their friend, and just on him.
Without a warning, Stiles buried the sword deep in his stomach, the same spot as Allison, using all his strength left. He didn't screamed when it went through his vital organs, didn't sobbed because of his imminent death.
He just sighed, and fell on his knees to the floor. Meanwhile, the fantasy created by the Nogitsune was crumbling down.
Lydia lived the moment in slow motion: Stiles, slowly falling on his knees, with blood coming out of his mouth and the self-inflicted wound, dripping all over the shiny sword that was still inside of him, and also staining his plaid shirt. Scott, hurrying to his side with eyes wide open. Kira running towards her, surely to try and comfort her somehow. The Nogitsune, slowly disappearing and turning into dust in the ground, still with a grin…
But he removed her gaze of the figure of the creature she loathed more than Peter, now turned into ashes, and fixed it on his best friend, currently lying on Scott's legs.
She felt something irritable on her throat, a scream building there fast, ready to come out. But she refused to do that, she refused to scream. That'd mean the death of a person, of Stiles, and she wouldn't allow it. The same thing had happened with Allison, but back then she didn't watch her best friend slowly die. Now she did. Stiles was on the floor, bleeding out, with horrible difficulties when he wanted to obtain air and extreme pain everywhere…
Lydia finally screamed.
Isaac ran as fast as he could, trying to reach the school door to catch that damn thing inside of the box made from the Nemeton. His thoughts were focused on that task only, that was why, when he heard the scream of a Banshee, he fell on the floor aggressively, covering his ears and gripping the box in his hands because he was afraid he'd drop it.
He let the scream affect him for a few seconds, but then he was, once again, standing and ready to get there even faster. Someone was on the edge of life, on the verge of death , but he'd do anything possible to save thatperson –he couldn't afford losing anyone else, not after Allison.
Banshees, they scream when someone is dead, or about to do it, because they won't survive.
The twins, Derek and Argent were astonished when, in the middle of the fight, the Onis suddenly disappeared. Not only they were all well and safe, the Nogitsune had been beaten. But their surprise was even bigger when they heard the Banshee scream over another lost life.
They started to run towards the school as fast as they could.
If Scott had heard the scream, he didn't show any signs of it. His hands, his eyes, his ears, his body was focused on his brother, bleeding on the floor, dying on him. It was just like Allison all over again.
"Stiles, you have to stay wake, do you hear me? Stay awake, you have to!
Stiles' eyes were unfocused, and his mouth was slightly open, trying to fill his lungs with air. He wasn't succeeding on that, though, because his breaths were too fast and short.
"S-scott, you ha-have to… promise m-me you wi-will take c-ca-care of my fa-father. Ple…please" he couldn't formulate words, he simply couldn't, and it was a very bad sign.
Blood rushed out of his mouth, and sweat covered his temple and face, making it shine and highlighting the paleness of it.
"No, I won't. 'Cause you'll live, okay? I won't let you die, not ever" tears were running wild through his face and his voice was shaking. "Remember that time, at Hotel California? I tried to set myself on fire, Stiles, and you… you said that if I died, you would too. Do you remember?" A slow nod came from Stiles, and that was all the werewolf needed to continue with his speech, only interrupted because of his own sobs. "If you die, Stiles… If you die on me, I'll go, too. You, you are my brother, dude. There's no Stiles without a Scott, and there's no Scott without a Stiles. It don't.
"Take care, Scotty. Don't wanna see you on the other side soon" Stiles whisper was so soft Scott could barely hear it even with his great hearing.
The teenage wolf started to shake his head, repeating 'no', but it was too late.
Stiles breathing was shallow before, but now it had stopped completely. His heart wasn't beating any more, he didn't have a pulse. His eyes were closed forever, and they'd never open again.
A roar came out of Scott's mouth, so powerful and heartbreaking that the school trembled a little.
No one took notice of that.
Lydia sat next to Scott to look at Stiles. The two of them didn't acknowledged her presence, but she was fine with it. She had to just be there.
Her hand were shaking, just like her lips while looking at the exchange of words the two friends were having. When she stopped hearing the fast breaths of Stiles, she looked at him fast. Stiles' eyes were closed.
And then, the piercing roar indicated what she feared the most. It didn't take her long to fall on her friend's still body, and hold his plaid shirt strongly. That was when Scott noticed her, and took one of her hand to covered it with his. It didn't make anything better.
Kira walked away from the three friends, but just a few meters; she felt like she was disturbing a too private scene. Besides, she didn't know Stiles that well…
Oh, who was she kidding? The boy, Scott's best friend, had known how to enter somebody's heart fast, it was impossible not to like him. In the short time she had known him, Stiles had only talked to her a few hours before the mess that was the present, but that had been enough. Even her mother liked him, and she was the one who tried to kill him more than a few times.
She knew, since the moment she heard the roar of his not-official-boyfriend, that it wasn't worth it thinking about the time she had knew him. Like she had done the day before, she covered his eyes and cried for another lost life.
The moment he stepped into the school, Isaac knew he was already late. The people on the hall didn't even lifted their heads to see who was the one that had entered the place in such a hurry. They were busy crying and sobbing over a body lying on the floor.
No, no… Isaac thought. Not another. No more.
He walked slowly, fearful, and waited to see Scott on the floor.
He was, only he was alive.
Stiles, however, wasn't.
The day before, when he had said that he looked like he was dying, he had thought that, even with that look, he'd be fine. He was Stiles, for god's sake. The boy ran with werewolves, werecoyotes, hunters, Kitsunes, Banshees… and always came out without a scratch.
He not only escaped all the problems and fights, but he also saved everyone else. Scott and Lydia and Derek and him. All of them.
He was just a human, normal and hyper-active. He was the most important member of the pack.
And he was dead.
How many people on Isaac Lahey's life would die? How could he hold on?
The scene in front of them was absolutely devastating. Sobs filled the air and tears and pain dyed the atmosphere. It was horrible.
They knew someone was dead, but none of them ever imagined that the fallen soldier who made all those supernatural creatures weep and cry like there was no tomorrow was Stiles (and for them, there wasn't).
Stiles, their Stiles, was gone.
Aiden ran to try and comfort Lydia, with Ethan following behind. Both of them with their mouths hanging open.
Derek walked slowly, heading towards the body on the floor. He kneeled beside Scott, and put one hand behind his back. For the first time in years, literally years, Derek cried.
Chris Argent sighed with sadness. Another wasted life. So young, so many years ahead of him…
But they were gone. And so was Stiles.
I hope you liked and enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it, and you can leave a review if there's something oyu want to say about it (critics, positive or negative feedback, or even a single "it was good" it's enough, 'cause I really appreciate it). So, that's it, goodbye and thanks for reading!