Dark Stiles' last scene! The final chapter will go up tomorrow~

36 Dark

Lydia sat on the couch between Scott and Malia. Stiles did a double-take when he saw them. Both werewolves had earbuds in and removed them at the sight of Stiles. They could physically limit their hearing but had opted for a performative blockage, probably for Stiles' benefit.

They must have heard him before they opted not to listen in. He'd been in the restroom for a while. Losing his dinner only took a moment. Lying on the bathroom rug, while his father stood in the hall outside the locked door trying to apologize, took longer. Stiles was still shaky, his face still pale. He'd expected to be alone once his father retreated to his own room to be sorry from a distance. The pack must have finished early with Lair.

"How long have you been there?" Stiles asked.

"Not long," Lydia said unconvincingly as she pulled him to sit between her and Scott on the couch. Malia moved to sit on the arm so they would be less cramped.

"Lair?" he asked.

"Free," Scott answered. "We made sure she left town, and Corey will keep an eye out just in case."

"Which way did she go?"

"East," Malia answered.

"I don't think she sensed anything yet," Scott said.

Lydia said, "I have messages for you. Scott asked me to give you a hug." She put her arms around him and squeezed, and Stiles knew she meant the other Scott. "Peter says your wards have failed. Malia promises to protect the pack."

"They're gonna need it since the other guy won't learn magic," Stiles muttered.

Lydia continued, "Cora says she misses you and promises you the cocoa mug."

Stiles stood. "I've never wanted anything more than that mug. I have to go. Bye."

Lydia grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the couch, laughing, if weakly.

"A mug?" Malia asked.

"It's her favorite mug, so I steal it sometimes when I know she's about to use it," Stiles explained.

Malia looked unconvinced.

Lydia continued, "Derek tried to send his message in code, but Stiles is pretty sure it means, 'Eat food, not trees.'"

"Sounds like Derek. What was the code?" Derek knew that Stiles sustained himself physically on power drawn from the nemeton, or had when he'd been at full power living with a healthy nemeton. Now he shared his meals with the toilet as often as not. Melissa insisted he'd get used to eating more than one meal a day and advised he build up slowly. He could almost manage an extra snack before feeling sick, so maybe she was right.

Lydia shared the code, and sure enough, the other guy had cracked it.

"At least tell me it took him a while to figure out," Stiles pleaded. They'd spent ages developing and memorizing that code, mostly so they could joke about Peter right in front of him.

Lydia shook her head, "Apparently, he found some hints on your laptop weeks ago."

"Tell him he's a prying asshole, and tell Derek he's not my mom."

Lydia smiled at that while Scott snickered. Stiles wondered what their Derek was like. Apparently he'd left town, which was much better than dead.

Lydia said, "Heather says she loves you."

Stiles didn't trust himself to speak, so he nodded. He did wonder if Heather had actually said that, or if it had been in past tense.

Lydia nodded her understanding and continued, "Stiles wants to make peace with the hunters. Any chance that could work?"

Stiles shook his head. Kate Argent had massacred Peter's family. Peter had killed her for revenge. Now the hunters wanted to kill him and Derek for the same. And Stiles for the people he'd killed as part of the pack.

"I'll keep you updated anyway," Lydia said.

"How can you be so sure you'll always be able to reach him?" Stiles asked. She'd already lost her connection once.

"Banshees are supposed to predict death, but I've always heard more than that when it comes to Stiles. Besides, I'm a supernatural creature. I can do what I want."

"That's not how it works," Stiles said. Monsters may not always know their own limits, but that hardly meant they didn't have any.

"You're not a banshee, so you don't get to say how it works." She paused, and her expression grew thoughtful. "I can feel that I'm connected to him, to both of you. I'll always be able to reach Stiles."

"Does that mean you're not mad at him anymore?" Stiles asked.

Lydia shook her head. "He's convinced there's no way back. He was trying to push us away to... soften the blow."

"He's an idiot," Malia said.

"Does that mean he lied after all?" Scott asked.

"Just left things out," Lydia answered.

Scott must have made a face that Stiles couldn't see out of his missing left eye because Malia nodded and Lydia grimaced, both looking over Stiles' shoulder.

Lydia said, "Some of it might be my fault. I didn't tell you everything he told me last time, though even that wasn't complete. He thought he knew best and acted on that, but he's promised to trust us from now on."

"So just the be clear," Stiles asked, "he's really dating Peter?"

"Yes. As far as I can tell, he genuinely likes him. I guess he smiles more than Peter here?" Lydia shrugged, at a loss. None of them could meet Peter.

"He does," Stiles said, "but only because if your Peter encountered happiness he would bite it and expect a thank you, whereas the one back home expects a thank you for not biting it."

"So Peter's better there?" Malia sounded more confused than not.

"Has your father ever considered therapy?" Stiles asked. "Maybe it would help."

"Peter has a therapist?" she asked.

Stiles nodded.

"Stiles didn't mention that," Lydia said.

"He may not know," Stiles said. "Peter tries to keep it a secret. He schedules his bank meetings on the same days as his therapy appointments like no one will notice it takes twice as long. I also think he likes the excuse to wear a suit to therapy."

"If he's even a little obvious, then Stiles noticed," Scott said.

Stiles would have to take their word for it. He couldn't meet the other guy any more than they could meet Peter. Though if Peter liked him, the other guy had to be smart.

Stiles asked, "If the other guy thinks there's no way back, does that mean he's wrong or does that mean there isn't?"

"We can't know that yet," Lydia said. "It's too soon."

"But we'll find out," Scott promised. He put a hand on Stiles' shoulder to reassure him.

Stiles patted Scott's hand absently. They had all been so upset when Lydia told them before, but Stiles got the feeling they'd been ready to forgive the other guy even before Lydia revealed his poor attempt at manipulation. Stiles wondered where the line was, how far someone had to go for this pack to consider them beyond redemption. It wasn't just loyalty; that would only extend to their own. But they'd accepted Stiles, and they'd freed Lair. Their forgiveness was for everyone.

The vial of ink Stiles had made from Lydia's blood still sat on a shelf in his room. It would have worked. Stiles scratched at the temple beside his left eye socket. He could still use the ink if he found another demon.

"I can see you're thinking something," Lydia said, "the kind of something you'd be best not considering."

Stiles frowned. He'd spent a lot of time with Lydia since coming here, but not so much that she should read him so easily. Even Heather had needed years. Peter still couldn't most days, and Derek cared less to interpret than to monitor him.

Lydia said, "Your faces and mannerisms are nearly identical. I've had enough time with you now to learn the parts that aren't."

Stiles should have thought of that. At least the other guy would suffer the same.

"Except that your tells are more obvious," Malia said.

Or not.

Lydia turned her head to face her. "Malia."

"They are," Malia insisted.

Lydia turned back to Stiles and raised her eyebrows, so Stiles shrugged. She asked, "Are you going to tell me what it was?"

"The ink would work," Stiles said, realizing his mistake too late. He should have gone with a conditional perfect: 'would have worked.'

"For?" Scott asked.

"See," Malia said.

Stiles groaned. "It would work if I found another demon, and maybe it could still get me home if Lair found something. Maybe Lair could even find the demon for me since she senses the void."

Lydia pressed her lips into a thin line. She studied Stiles' hands, though they both knew he had healed enough to write a binding even if he'd been too late to erase the surface scarring. His scars would fade with time, but over the course of years, maybe decades.

"Would you survive that?" Scott asked.

"No," Lydia answered for him, though the rest she directed at Stiles, "If you wrote a weaker binding, the demon would overpower you, and if you wrote the same binding, you wouldn't survive it escaping after you crossed through the void."

"I could complete our original plan using my original ink," Stiles insisted.

"We never knew if that would work, Stiles. I don't believe you would survive."

"Are you saying that as a banshee?"

"I'm saying it as your friend."

"But not a banshee."

She shook her head. "At least don't do anything rash without the pack. I know we'll seem far away, but we're here for you."

"Scott and I will be close enough to drive back," Malia said.

"Our parents will still be here," Scott added. "And Liam and the others too."

Stiles hadn't technically decided not to go to college in the other guy's place, or at least he hadn't told anyone yet that he wouldn't. Almost, he wanted to go out of spite, but he had no interest in the other guy's dreams. Stiles could save people with magic that the other guy would never be able to help with the FBI.

"If I left, you could get your Stiles back," Stiles reminded them.

Lydia took his hand. "We'll keep searching for other ways to help you survive, but none of us want him back so badly we'd kill you for it."

Stiles asked, "What if we find a way to get him back but not a way to protect me?"

"We'll figure it out," Scott said.

"What if we find nothing?" Stiles pressed.

"Then Stiles was right," Malia said.

"Then at least we'll have tried," Lydia corrected.

"The void could bring him through," Stiles said.

Lydia shook her head. "He wouldn't be himself anymore if he used it. He can't."

"He can, but he shouldn't," Stiles said. "Is that why he gave up?"

Lydia nodded. "That, and he's afraid he'll go too far."
Stiles had assumed using the void was going too far, unless she meant something specific that she'd left vague for fear of saying it.

"You mean killing someone," Stiles said. "He's afraid that if he lets himself hope, home is something he'd kill for."

Lydia nodded. The others didn't rush to the other guy's defense.

Stiles asked, "Is he right?"

"Of course not," Lydia said. Stiles didn't believe her, but the others didn't dispute it.

"Does this all mean we should or should not keep looking?" Stiles asked.

"We keep looking," Scott said. He leaned into Stiles' field of vision to ask, "Do you still want to find a way back?"

"Yeah, of course. They're like my family."

Scott said, "Then we definitely keep looking."

Stiles stood. "I should talk to my dad."

If the other guy had given him up, Noah could be Stiles' dad.

The others filed out with many backward glances. Scott gave him a hug and promised everything would be okay.

Stiles found Noah in his room. It looked just like the master bedroom Stiles remembered from his old house. He hadn't kept the photos from the dresser or the partial bottle of Claudia's perfume that Noah had hidden in the nightstand. Stiles had told Peter to get rid of it all and never returned. He didn't even know who bought the house.

Noah's eyes were red, though he had dried them. He sat at the edge of his bed, holding a picture of his real son sitting beside Noah's dead wife.

"I'm sorry," Stiles said. "If I could bring him back, I would."

"I know."

"Lydia was right. He's scared he can't come back, so that stunt the other day was to push you all away." Stiles leaned against the doorway, unsure if he was welcome in Noah's room.

Noah nodded. "I know. He's my son. He can't fool me so easily."

"But you apologized to Lydia... because she was hurt, not because you believed your son abandoned you." Stiles sighed.

Noah stood and left the photo on the bed. He crossed the room to set a hand on Stiles' shoulder and look him in the eye. "Imagine he's your brother instead of a different you. I'll miss one of my boys, but that can't make me stop loving the other. You're my son too, Stiles."

It was almost painful for Stiles to simultaneously love his father and mourn him. Stiles could feel Noah's hand on his shoulder, and he could remember burying him.

"I missed you," Stiles said. It was the closest he knew to explain how he felt. In a way, having a father meant he could lose him again, but it still meant having a father.

"It's okay, Stiles. You can cry too, if you need to."

He did. Noah held him, and they rocked slowly as Noah rubbed Stiles' back.

"I can't go to DC," Stiles said. "You're alive. I can't just leave you."

"So stay. Take your time. Do what you can, and we'll figure out the rest."

They stayed in the doorway a long time. Stiles had always believed he would get home. He'd been afraid to spend too much time with Noah, afraid it would hurt too much to leave him behind.

The other guy was right, nothing indicated they had any chance of reaching their home universes again. There were literally countless worlds, an infinity of possibilities for the destination of any bridge Lair found. There were fewer werespiders than worlds, elsewise every world would have at least one. With Stiles' demon eye gone, nothing would draw spiders to him. The other guy had a slightly better chance, assuming a spider actively looking for either void or displacement visited that Earth at a location close enough to the other guy to sense him. And they approached him, or got close enough that he noticed them. And they agreed to help. And they knew a way to help Stiles survive the void without his eye and the other guy pass through again without getting worse.

It wasn't nothing, but neither was it likely. Stiles would be here a long time, if not forever. This was his world now, a world with Noah Stilinski alive.