"Scott just listen to me okay? You're not no one. Okay? you're someone. Scott, you're my best friend, okay? And I need you. Scott, you're my brother. Alright so…..so if you're gonna do this then…I think you're just gonna have to take me with you then," Stilessobbed, tears rolling down his face. He slowly came forward, reaching his hand out and grabbing the flare with his hand. Then he yanked it, and pulled it out of Scott's grip, throwing it behind him.
As the flashback dissipated from Scott's mind, his eyes filled with tears, and he looked down at Stiles, who was in his lap, barely breathing. Scott cradled his friend's head in his arms, trying to hold himself together.
"…S-S-Sc-Scott…" Stiles choked out, his voice nothing but a hoarse whisper.
"Stiles….Stiles, hold on, it's going to be alright….it's gonna be okay," He murmured, holding his friend close.
Stiles gasped for air, choking on the blood that started to flood his throat. He could feel the pain leaving his body, and then he realized that Scott was taking it from him. His body tensed, his eyes rolling up into his skull. "S-S….." Stiles tried to speak, but blood spilled out of his mouth, leaking out from the sides.
Scott ran his hand over his friend's cheek, using his thumb to wipe away the red liquid. "Shhhh…don't talk. We're going to get you out of here; just stay with me a little longer, okay?" Stiles nodded ever so softly, sheer exhaustion in his eyes. He went limp in Scott's arms, trying to cling to consciousness. His eyelids were dropping lower and lower by the minute. "Just hang on Stiles,"
This was all the Nogitsune's fault. All of it. Because of this damn demon, Scott's best friend was dying. The Oni had stabbed him, shoved their swords into his stomach. Now Stiles was losing blood, and was having difficulty breathing. Scott bit his lip as the teen in his lap choked up more blood. Stiles' eyes were now wide open; pain swam around in the golden-brown pools of his irises.
"S'ott…?" Stiles slurred. "Can' feel my legs…an' I'm so t'red…." He groaned, blinking dazedly.
Scott glanced down at him, shaking him a little. "Don't close your eyes Stiles. Just stay awake for a little longer. Please…." The teen alpha werewolf begged him, tears threatening to leap from his eyes.
"I can't….S'ott I can' do it…" Stiles slurred again. Then his eyes rolled up into his skull. He went completely limp in Scott's arms.
"Stiles?" Scott tried. "Stiles!" He yelled. Then the sound of footsteps echoed into his ears. The teen glanced upwards to see Lydia.
She knelt beside the two boys, cupping Stiles' cheeks with her hands. "He...he's so cold." The banshee gasped, leaning over Stiles and pressing her forehead to his. "Stiles...? It's Lydia. If you can hear me, then please…please wake up. Open your eyes, Stiles. I've screamed too many times in the past week…..I don't want to scream again…especially not today, not because of you…" She whispered, her sweet, honey-scented, strawberry-colored hair falling onto Stiles' face. "Just wake up…."
"I need you Stiles. Don't give up on me. I've never given up on you! Fight Stiles, fight! You're stronger than this," Scott added, his face streaked with tears.
Without warning whatsoever, Stiles let out a violent cough. He jerked upwards, causing Lydia to remove her hands from his face. A thick, red substance crawled up his throat and leaped out of his mouth, making a puddle of blood on the floor. Then his eyelids fluttered open. "Y-you pulled me back," He whispered, searching Lydia's face for acknowledgement.
She was frozen for a second, but she quickly snapped out of it and gently hugged him. Then Scott carefully pulled him back, lying him down again.
"I thought I lost you," The werewolf croaked, staring into Stiles' eyes.
"It's 'kay Scott…" He replied. Whatever adrenaline that had been coursing through him when Lydia woke him up had faded now. His eyelids were dropping low again.
"Stiles, stay with us, okay?" Lydia begged him, noticing his eyes. A loud clanging sound echoed into her ears, and she turned her head, seeing Sheriff Stilinski running towards them. She turned her attention back to Stiles. "Your dad is here, Stiles. It's going to be alright now,"
The sheriff was at his son's side in less than a second. "Stiles….? Can you hear me?" Stilinski asked him, running a hand through the boy's hair.
" I'm 'ere, Dad…" Stiles choked out, his vision beginning to blur.
"Okay….I'm going to pick you up now," The sheriff advised him, carefully sliding his arms under Stiles' legs and back, lifting him up into his arms and allowing his son's head to lay on his chest.
Stiles groaned in pain, wincing. "Dad it hurts….." He wheezed, suddenly unable to breathe. "Can' breathe Dad…" He heaved, his eyes rolling up. His breaths became gasps.
"Stiles!" The sheriff exclaimed, quickly lowering his son to the floor. "Scott! Lydia!" He yelled, motioning them over. "Keep him breathing; I need to grab the paramedics from outside!"
As John raced towards the exit, Scott and Lydia knelt beside Stiles, who had stopped breathing seconds ago.
"Start chest compressions!" Lydia hollered at Scott, then she tilted Stiles' head, held his nose, and blew air into his lungs. "C'mon Stiles," She whispered as she pulled away, then she gave another blow. "C'mon Stiles, breathe," The banshee pleaded him. "Breathe Stiles," She squeaked.
Suddenly, the boy gasped, his eyelids flinging open. After a second they closed again.
Scott and Lydia both sighed in relief as they heard Stiles' slow but functional lungs gathering and releasing oxygen.
Then the sheriff ran in, the paramedics beside him with a gurney. But everyone's hearts seemed to stop when Stilinski kneeled next to Stiles. The teen's eyelids were half open, and he was hardly breathing.
"St-Stiles….?" John stammered, looking down at his son.
Stiles had blood coming out of his mouth at an alarming rate. "Dad….I…..I 'ove you…" He slurred.
"I love you too Stiles," John sobbed, cradling the boy's head in his arms. He knew that Stiles was dying, and that he only had a few minutes left at the most.
"'m sorry, Dad…..'m sorry I can't stay 'ith you 'ny longer," He whispered, his eyelids almost closed.
"Stiles, don't be sorry. You've been with us for a long time. It's…..it's okay," His father whispered, though he was literally shattered on the inside.
"Be good, Dad," Stiles murmured, his eyes closing.
"I love you Stiles," John choked out, kissing his son on the head while stroking his hair, hoping to make his last few seconds comfortable.
"I….'ove….you…too…." Stiles muttered, then he went completely limp.
Scott and Lydia hugged, their arms locked around each other as tears of grief and shock leaped out of their eyes.
"I'm so sorry, Sheriff. N-no parent should h-have to bury their child," One of the paramedics tried to comfort him.
"It's…..it's okay. H-he's with his Mama now,"
For the rest of the night, Scott, Lydia, and John sat in a circle surrounding Stiles' body, mourning his death with great sorrow. Knowing how big of a loss this was, it wasn't a surprise that even the moon was dimmer that evening.