As was normal for him these days, Stiles startled himself awake. It was an improvement from screaming himself awake, but Stiles knew it was an obvious sign that he wasn't as over everything that had happened as he liked to pretend.
Reflecting on his own mental health, however, wasn't the first thing that crossed Stiles' mind. Instead, it was the raw, scratchy feeling in his throat, and the pounding of his head, and the deep, icy feeling that he was very familiar with. The coldness that had lasted since the nogitsune had eased a little over the last few days, but now it was back in full force, and Stiles felt like he couldn't even move. His entire body hurt, and he let out a pitiful moan of pain, turning his head and pressing it into the pillow. It looked like his trek through the rain hadn't been without consequence.
"Stupid human immune system," Stiles said to himself, before he began to cough, deep hacking coughs that Stiles' chest feel tight and his throat burn in pain.
Stiles didn't notice the sound of footsteps until the bedroom door burst open, Talia standing in the open doorway for less than a second, taking in the sight of Stiles on the bed, before she swept into the room, crouching down beside him touching his forehead with her hand, before running her fingers through his hair as he coughed into his hand, trying to catch his breath. Once the coughing had got back under control Stiles looked at her with bleary, almost tear filled eyes.
"Hey, Stiles...how do you feel?" Talia asked.
"Sick...everything hurts," Stiles croaked out quietly, certain that a human wouldn't be able to hear his voice. Talia, however, must have been able to hear him, because she gave him a sympathetic smile.
"It's okay, Stiles, you'll feel better soon. I'll ask Melissa to come by before her shift starts and check you over; you're a bit warm, in my opinion."
"Still feel cold though," Stiles added, a small shiver punctuating the sentence. Talia frowned in concern.
"Is it always like that?" she asked.
Stiles shrugged, "It comes and goes. The last few days I was okay, but this morning I feel colder than I have in the last week."
"Do...do you want me to ask Deaton about it? In your timeline there wasn't enough time between the Nogitsune and the necromancer for him to give you much help. Maybe here we can."
Stiles shrugged, his eyes getting heavy. Talia combed her fingers through his hair again, the other hand around his arm, her veins going black as she pulled a little of his pain. Stiles watched the black lines in confusion, weakly trying to pull his arm away from her.
"Why are you taking the pain?' he asked, "It weakens you, you have to stay strong for your pack."
Talia shook her head, "Shhh, Stiles. You are a member of my pack. Scott's pack is a part of my pack, just as much as my own family is. It is my duty as alpha to ease the suffering of members of my pack, werewolf, human, or other, it doesn't matter. I have never shied away from that duty, and I'm not going to exclude you. Last night Scott unofficially claimed you as part of his pack, so now, by extension, you're a part of mine. I'm not going to let you hurt if there is something I can do about it."
Stiles smiled before he let his eyes slide shut and exhaustion claimed him, dragging him into unconsciousness.
TW
Watching someone you cared about suffer was one of the hardest things to do in life, it was something John Stilinski knew well. Watching as Claudia was destroyed bit by bit by the disease that had robbed her of her memories had been the second hardest thing he'd ever gone through, after losing Stiles in the fire. At least with Claudia he'd had time to prepare himself for what was coming. Stiles' death had been sudden and entirely unexpected. John had dropped him off at school that morning, watching as the cape of Stiles' costume flapped as Stiles ran towards his classroom. The next time he'd seen his son Stiles had been in the morgue, pale and lifeless.
John was forcibly reminded of how his young son had looked that day as he stood by the newly arrived in this timeline seventeen year old Stiles' bedside, watching as Scott used a damp cloth to cool Stiles' fevered skin. Stiles, however, was oblivious to their presence, sound asleep. If it wasn't for the random twitching of Stiles' hands, the flickering of his eyes, and the way Stiles' chest rose and fell with every congested breath he took, John would have worried that Stiles was dead. The pallor of Stiles' skin didn't look at all healthy.
Both Melissa and Alan Deaton had already visited Stiles that morning, using their knowledge to determine how sick Stiles was. Melissa was reasonably sure that Stiles just had a bad case of the cold, made worse by his exhaustion, the fact that he hadn't been eating much recently, and the fact that Stiles had admitted to trekking through heavy rain less than a week ago, on the day he was brought to this reality. She had been a little concerned with the fever Stiles had already developed, but in Melissa's opinion Stiles' condition didn't warrant hospital treatment.
Deaton had agreed with Melissa's assessment, although he had promised to look into his research to see if there was something he could do to help Stiles' body get rid of the chill that had somehow seeped into his bones. John didn't know what had caused the chill, but he knew enough about reading people to understand from both Talia and Deaton's faces that they did know, and whatever it was, it hadn't been good, and John suspected that Deaton had, in fact, already been looking for a cure to the cold feeling Stiles was experiencing.
Melissa had given Stiles some over the counter cold medicine before she headed off to work to help lower Stiles' fever and to lessen the amount of pain Stiles was in, and the drugs, combined with Stiles' exhaustion, had been enough to send Stiles into a deep sleep. Scott had insisted on staying with Stiles, and since he couldn't get sick himself, and the fact that it wasn't a school day and Scott was reasonably up to date with his school work, Melissa and Talia had allowed it.
It forcibly reminded John of the days when Scott would be too sick from his Asthma to go outside and play with Stiles, so Stiles would stay inside with Scott and play video games with him, making sure Scott didn't do anything too strenuous, and looking after him if Scott's asthma started to act up. Now the roles were reversed, with Scott looking after sick Stiles, and John couldn't say how it made him feel, seeing Scott so close to Stiles, but yet knowing at the same time that it wasn't completely the same kid that John had taught to ride his bike without training wheels, although at that point of time there was no difference between the two. It was only from the day of the Hale fire (or just before) onwards that thing between this Stiles and John's son went differently.
A soft noise of a creaking floorboard told John that Talia was nearby, and he looked over his shoulder at the werewolf alpha, knowing full well that she'd only stepped on the floorboard in order to alert him to the fact she was there.
"Here," she said, offering him a cup of coffee, made just how he liked it. John took it with a nod of thanks, before he turned his attention back to the two boys in the room.
"It's horrible, isn't it, seeing your own child sick, knowing that there isn't anything you can do to make them feel better, to take away all of the pain and suffering."
It was on the tip of John's tongue to enquire how Talia knew how he was feeling, when he remembered Talia's eldest son, Matthew, who was human and only returned to Beacon Hills a couple of times a year for his siblings birthdays and other large pack events.
"Did Matthew get sick often?" John asked instead.
Talia let out a reflective sigh, "Yes, well, more often than most children his age. In hindsight I should have sent him off to day care and pre school, even just one or two days a week, so that he had more chances when he was very young to be exposed to germs. Being surrounded by werewolves...he didn't get exposed to normal, human, illnesses until he went to school, and because he had little to no immunity...he pretty much caught every bug around for the first few years of school. By the time he got to about the third or fourth grade his immune system had caught up and he didn't get sick as much. Still, at least we had the advantage that I could smell illness on him the moment if started, so we could keep on top of things and get him started on medicine before he got too bad. What we went through with Matthew was why Peter and Amanda were sure to send both of the twins to day care and preschool, to give Sophie a chance to build up her immune system before she started school. At least I could take some of the pain, but poor Matthew, he still felt pretty bad when he did get sick."
Not knowing what to say, John nodded, wincing sympathetically when Stiles whimpered in his sleep, mumbling something before he drifted off back into unconsciousness.
"I hope he feels better soon," John finally settled on saying to break the silence. Talia put her hand reassuringly on his shoulder.
"We all do, John, the entire pack does too."
TW
Stiles blinked back into consciousness, curling his fingers into the soft surface he was lying on. It took a few minutes for his sluggish mind to begin to wake up, and when it did he frowned in confusion. Everything was green, the bed he was lying on, the walls, everything. Sitting bolt upright, Stiles whipped his head around, noticing that he was in the preservation again...only this time it looked different, which was nothing special. The preservation in this reality looked different to the preservation in Stiles' original reality.
Deaton had once commented, after the Nogitsune, that the dark energy that the Nemeton was putting out as it drew supernatural creatures to it was having a negative effect on the preservation that surrounded it. The trees were dying, the numbers of fish in the waterways was dwindling, and the wildlife in the preservation were either fleeing or dying. In this reality the preservation was healthy looking, appearing much as it had before Scott, Allison and Stiles had sacrificed themselves for their parents, except it was now obviously the depths of winter.
Now, though, the preservation was a bright, lush green. The soft bed Stiles was now sitting on was actually a large patch of thick, soft green grass, the green walls were the trees, the branches covered in leaves, the tree trunks painted green with moss. Looking up, Stiles could see a patch of sky, bright blue without a hint of clouds.
Stiles glanced down at himself, taking in the clothes he was wearing, a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, with a red hooded jacket over the top, which wasn't what he had worn to bed the night after he'd been reunited with the pack.
A sneaking suspicion building in his mind, Stiles looked past his clothes to his hands, counting his fingers under his breath. He closed his eyes and forced himself to be calm, inhaling and exhaling deeply when he counted six fingers on both hands. He was dreaming, none of this was real, but why would he dream something like this?
Stiles startled when he heard something rustling in the trees, rising to his feet shakily, ready to face whatever weird thing his mind had conjured up. The trees continued to rustle, the leaves of the bushed in the undergrowth shaking alarmingly in one spot. Stiles tilted his head curiously, staring at that spot, and taking a tentative step towards it. That was all he had the time for when two small creatures tumbled out of the undergrowth and into the clearing. Stiles blinked, staring at the first of the creatures, a small fox kit, it's fur only just beginning to turn red, the tuft of it's tail already white as freshly fallen snow as it gave an excited yip, pouncing playfully on it's companion, a bigger animal that Stiles realised was a wolf cub, it's long, fluffy fur dark brown in colour.
"Well...that's different," Stiles observed quietly as he watched the pair as they played, wrestling one another happily. As if they hadn't realised he was there until he'd spoken, the fox and the wolf stopped what they were doing and looked at him, their tails wagging happily as the trotted over to him. Cautiously, Stiles knelt down, a small smile spreading across his face when the fox and the wolf jumped up, putting their tiny paws on his knees and leaning up so they could lick his hands and arms, trying to reach his face. When it became apparent that just having their feet on his legs wasn't going to be enough, they started trying to climb up his body.
Despite himself and everything he'd gone through in the last year, Stiles laughed, trying to push the pair's faces away from his own, desperately trying to evade their little pink tongues. The wolf put his front feet on Stiles' chest and pushed, and Stiles tipped backwards, landing on his back with a gush of air that left him winded. The fox and the wolf seized their chance, covering Stiles' face and neck with licks, burying their cold noses into Stiles' skin and making him giggle as their whiskers tickled his face.
Completely distracted by the wolf and the fox, Stiles didn't notice how the trees and undergrowth at one end of the clearing began to rustle, and then appeared to start glowing with a soft white light. It was only when the wolf playfully tugged on his hood that he turned his head, and saw the figure emerging from the tree line, bathed in white light, almost glowing with it. Stiles was immediately reminded of Galadriel or Arwen from the Lord of the Rings movies as the figure moved gracefully towards him.
As far as Stiles could tell, the figure was humanoid in shape, although whether or not they were actually human was beside the point. Whoever it was, the wolf and the fox seemed to recognise them, because the moment they spotted the newcomer they raced towards it. The figure crouched, just like Stiles had, patting their heads and rubbing their tummies, before looking up at Stiles.
Stiles' heart leapt into his throat as he took in the face of the figure, recognizing it instantly, although it had been seven years since he'd seen it last in person, outside of photos.
"Mom?" he croaked out. The figure...Claudia Stilinski, gave a small smile, her bronze eyes, just like Stiles', sparkling.
"Hello, Stiles," she greeted, the memory of the sound of his mother's voice came flooding back to Stiles, and he scrambled back to his feet so he could approach her. Claudia too rose to her feet, far more gracefully than Stiles, and the wolf and the fox, looked between the two of them, before they disappeared back into the undergrowth. Stiles, however, didn't even notice their absence, too transfixed by the appearance of his mother, her hair long and flowing, the way her skin seemed to glow, how she was surrounded all over her body with a halo of light.
Just before he got within touching range of his mother, Stiles hesitated, licking his lips nervously.
"This isn't some trick of the nogitsune's, is it? I'm not going to touch you and then get possessed again, or something. This isn't some new kind of torture, is it?"
Claudia frowned, "No, Stiles, this dream is not the work of the nogitsune, it's gone, you're safe."
Stiles sobbed, and then there were warm arms around him, gentle hands rubbing his pack, soft lips pressed to his forehead, the familiar scent, but without the taint that was the scent of hospital grade cleaner and disinfectant that Stiles had associated with it for years.
"Mom," he croaked out, his voice cracking with emotions, tears rolling down his face, this throat tightening up with grief.
"I'm here, Stiles, it's okay," Claudia Stilinski soothed, rubbing Stiles' back gently, just like Stiles remembered her doing when he was upset when he was younger.
"Am...am I dead? Is that why I can see you?"
Claudia hesitated before responding, leaning back a bit so she could take in Stiles' face, the thumb of one hand rubbing his shoulder gently, while the other hair tousled his hair gently.
"No...You're not dead. It isn't your time, not yet, my sweet baby boy."
"But everyone else died...how isn't it my turn?" Stiles asked. Claudia leaned forward and kissed his forehead.
"You're so brave, Stiles. I'm very proud of you, of everything you've done."
"But I was supposed to look after dad, and he ended up dying because of me."
"Stiles, none of what happened was your fault. Allison, Aidan, Scott, Derek...your father; none of their deaths were you fault, you shouldn't blame yourself. The version of your father from your original timeline didn't blame you, not even the smallest bit. You could never have known what was going to happen, and there wasn't anything anyone could have done to change the outcome of what happened there."
"Is my being here going to get this pack dead as well?" Stiles asked. Claudia sighed.
"I honestly don't know, Stiles, and even if it did, i wouldn't be able to tell you. There are rules about this kind of thing you know."
"Are you an Angel?" Stiles asked curiously, looking over his mother's shoulder to see if she had wings. Claudia laughed, the sound brining back memories of happy afternoons spent in the park, of movie nights that lasted for hours, the happiest days of Stiles' childhood, before doctor's appointments and hospitals and his mother's failing memories robbed him of them, and eventually of his mother herself.
"No, but I do watch over you, Stiles, you and your father, and I miss you every day and I wish I could have been there to sooth your hurts and ease your pain. I will never leave you, Stiles, remember that. I will always be there for you, even if you can't see me.
"I miss you too, mom," Stiles sighed, leaning against his mother, resting his head on her shoulder, his fingers curling around her hair, just like he used to do when he was little.
Stiles closed his eyes , revelling in the feeling of being embraced by his mother. It had taken him awhile to recognize his feelings, since it had been so long since he'd really felt them. Here, with his mother, he was safe, and warm, and happy.
"I wish I could stay here with you." Stiles sighed.
"No, Stiles...you don't. Remember, you've got Scott and his pack and Derek, and your father and the Hale family and Melissa. You're not alone anymore. You can't stop living your life because it's been rough for a while now, you're too strong for that, and haven't you been happier since you arrived in this reality?"
Stiles nodded, knowing that it wouldn't be fair, especially to his father and Scott, to give up now when they'd only just got him back after seven years.
"I guess...I have a question though."
"Of course you do, Stiles," Claudia laughed, and Stiles blushed as he remembered when he'd been younger and had spent hours upon hours asking his parents questions, some of them very complicated.
"What was with the fox and the wolf? I mean, it's still January, it's too warm here for us to be actually in the woods, and i have extra fingers, so I know I'm dreaming. The last thing I remember was falling asleep at the Hale's house, and I can't picture them letting me wander off, especially because I'm sick. This is all happening in my head, isn't it? Some kind of out of body experience, maybe?"
"Well, technically that was two questions, but I'll answer both. Yes, this is all happening in your head. Physically you are still at the Hale's house, although I'm quite sure that if you get much sicker your father is going to take you to hospital, he's already raised the subject twice with Talia. As for the fox and the wolf...I can only venture a guess...This is after all, your party. The image of the fox and the wolf, playing together, could be some sort of representation of you and Scott reconciling after both of you being faced with the death of the other, because in your mind it still views itself as a fox, even though the nogitsune is gone. It could also be a representation of Scott and Kira, although that would be a less likely scenario. In both cases, Scott could also be substituted for Derek, but I find it less likely, despite how you feel about Derek. If you imagined a wolf Derek I doubt it would be a pup. Scott, on the other hand, has always looked a bit like a puppy...but then, I am only speculating."
Stiles' eyes narrowed slightly as his mother's words, "So...in my head, I'm still the nogitsune?"
"Does it really surprise you? You still blame yourself for what the Nogitsune did," Claudia pointed out. Stiles had to concede she did have a valid point.
"It is gone, though, right. I'm...me again, I'm not going to start causing all kinds of hell in this reality to, am I?"
Claudia laughed, ruffling Stiles' hair, "The Nogitsune is gone, Stiles, it has been since that night at the school. As long as the Nemeton remains inactive the Nogitsune cannot cause any damage in this reality. You however...well, you've always been a bit of a trouble magnet."
"Mom," Stiles protested , and Claudia laughed, ruffling Stiles' hair gently.
"I'm teasing, Stiles, although there is a certain element of truth to what i said. You always have been a trouble magnet. I often worried that one day your curiosity would get you into trouble...that you would get hurt, or worse, because of it. I could never imagine what you would be thrown into though...even with my vivid imagination."
Stiles smiled, "you used to tell the best stories," he recalled fondly.
Claudia leaned forward, kissing Stiles on the forehead, her hand clasping the back of his neck gently.
"I love you, Stiles, I always have, and I always will. I'm so proud of you, my precious baby boy. You've gone through things that people four times your own age couldn't imagine going through, and you're still so strong, you kept going despite everything that happened."
"Mom...you're going, aren't you? Mom? Mom!" Stiles exclaimed, panic seeping into his voice, reaching out to grab onto his mother, "mom, don't go, mom, please don't go, don't leave me alone." Stiles cried out, dampness on his cheeks telling him that he was crying.
Claudia simply smiled sadly, "It's time for me to go, Stiles...It'll be alright. You are surrounded by people who love you; you'll be looked after here. You won't be alone, and even if your family...your pack, isn't there...I always will be."
"Mom" Stiles sobbed, his gaze misting over with tears. He blinked, his arm dropping to his side, weariness washing over him. Suddenly, he was struggling to keep his eyes open.
"It'll be alright, Stiles," Claudia soothed, "I'm here, it's okay, just go to sleep."
"Mom," Stiles whimpered again, blinking up at his mother, who took another step backwards, away from him.
"Goodbye, Stiles, I love you."
"Goodbye mom," Stiles whispered in reply, his head dropping down onto the soft forest floor, unable to stay up any longer.
Unconsciousness claimed him immediately.