A/N: Updates will be less frequent from here. I'm in my final semester of undergrad and working and internship, so my focus has to shift back to school and research, unfortunately. Thank you for continuing to read on.
TheLightTheLightTheLightTheLightTheLight
Animals are generally frowned upon in the hospital, but then again, so are Hales these days. When Melissa McCall assigns herself to Stiles's ward, however, people pretend not to notice the large black "dog" sleeping in the corner of his room.
A steady stream of teenagers and an unusual assortment of adults filter in and out over the next 48 hours. The sheriff shoos most of them away after only a few minutes, but the ethereal girl with the mane of strawberry blonde curls remains a permanent fixture, even after the sheriff finally heads back to the station.
It's not the first time he's died. It is the first time so many people have known about it.
TheLightTheLightTheLightTheLightTheLight
Once he's discharged, Scott follows Stiles home from school every day. He finds a way to make contact and pull away the residual pain from having life forced back into his body.
Stiles pretends he doesn't know what his best friend is doing until the day Scott won't let go of him. It hurts his bandaged ribs when he twists away, and his lungs when he shouts. But Scott gets the picture.
He starts sending the rest of the pack home with him on a rotating basis.
Malia actually resorts to prodding his sides until Stiles lets her hold his hand.
All of them report the scent of Derek Hale seeping from the shadows when Stiles opens the door each afternoon.
TheLightTheDarkTheLightTheDarkTheLight
The dark wolf siphons away his ache each night as sleep comes on. Stiles still doesn't like the feeling of being so reliant on others, but the fading sound of Allison's words still resonates in his bruised chest.
"It isn't time."
Despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary they've amassed in the last few years, it seems there may yet be an overarching design to the universe.
Just because he wishes it were different, doesn't mean he isn't grateful.
The sheriff doesn't say anything, but Lydia's mother starts to show up around the sheriff's station, and even at the house, from time to time. This development sends her daughter home more often than he'd prefer, but it also keeps the pack from getting too suspicious. Everyone has seen the way time has drawn the banshee and the boy together.
Only the dark wolf knows how tightly bound they've become.
The three of them, interlinked.
"They are waiting," Allison had said.
He knows that Scott would have been broken by his death. He can imagine Malia grieving, in her way. The tears on Kira's cheek. Liam fighting his emotions, while Mason would openly have wept.
He knows how selfish his desire to free himself of the pain was. To free himself of his debt to others, to free himself of grief and guilt. By perpetuating the cycle of shame, he might have destroyed his father as well as himself. And that knowledge, too, is a weight.
"They are waiting."
By giving in to the Void, by accepting his fallibility and mortality, by seeking the path of least resistance, he had also nearly destroyed those who knew him closest. The two other living souls who had fought and cared for and carried him.
He can feel the wolf's worn palm against his inner arm. He knows that his blood and biology can betray his emotions.
The wolf knows his guilt, and stays anyway.
TheLightTheDarkTheLightTheDarkTheLight
He still has nightmares. He sputters awake with the certainty that an empty black void is waiting for him in the shadows.
But the other voices are gone. The gnawing, nagging, buffeting voices have been silenced, and it's only his own self-doubt that calls to him in the night.
He also dreams.
Rainbows of light dance across his vision and wreath him in protective warmth. Visions of angels and saints flash in the corners of his unconscious mind.
When he faces the lingering memory of The Void, he isn't alone anymore.
TheLightTheDarkTheLightTheDarkTheLight
He tells Scott first. He doesn't know how the alpha will take it, considering the attachment he has developed with the kitsune. But he thinks it will be easier to tell Scott than it will be to tell Lydia.
"She was there, Scott," he says, the afternoon he invites the alpha home with him. "She was… lit up. Like an angel."
He watches the way the emotion plays on his face. Makes sure the information settles.
"She forgave me."
He sees the tears begin to well, but they never overflow. Scott nods.
"It was never really your fault," the alpha offers. A smile creases his face.
The hand on his arm relieves some of the ache in his chest, but there is another layer of relief, too. Something outside of physical discomfort, something that has been hanging around him for months, begins to dissipate.
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The dark wolf is uncharacteristically absent when he tells Lydia. He's been waiting for a moment alone, but begins to regret that line of thinking when he tries to get the words out.
"I saw Allison," he begins. He tries to envision Scott's smiling face in his mind's eye, but the tears are coming on too quickly. He sees the panic beginning to build inside her, feels her fingers grasp his tighter.
"She forgave me."
It seems like that fog of guilt should disappear, but the tears on her face mirror his own. Fuel his emotions.
"I knew she did," she whispers. "I told you it wasn't your fault." She meets his eyes, and he chokes on a sob.
"She was so beautiful, Lydia," he says. "And she sent me back to you."
The banshee smiles. The thrum of panic goes out of her. She laughs through her tears, and silently thanks her departed friend.
She kisses his cheeks, and he wipes away the salty stream.
TheLightTheDarkTheLightTheDarkTheLight
When the next threat finally shows itself, he's ready to serve his pack, but less enthusiastic about their mission to face down evil and protect Beacon Hills.
He knows, first hand, the inherent and inevitable danger in their situation, and is determined that they all survive. That they continue living. That they remain able to protect.