FIVE-Happy Xmas (War Is Over)
This one was the hardest one to write because of how painful it got...but also my favorite. My stories always tend to get really dark before they get fluffy and light again, fair warning.
Also, special thanks to vvgarciaquinonez and Guest for your reviews last chap! (And of course thanks to StarBurnedOut, Hawk2010, LycoX, and ImHellaUgly for reviewing the original posting of this story as one long fic), you guys are amazing! Glad to know some of you are still reading this repost.
Some minor changes added to this chapter, hang on for a happy ending next chap (and probably tissues needed for this one). Thanks for reading!
Fictional
It was Christmas Eve, and Malia felt like her entire world was ending.
Because it was.
With a deep sigh, she buried her face in her hands, trying unsuccessfully to drown out the harsh, mechanical sounds of the machines in the room.
Beep, whoosh. Beep, whoosh.
Barely suppressing a growl, she sat back up, staring at Scott's limp, motionless form in the bed, before she hesitantly reached forward and took his cool, clammy hand into hers.
She opened and closed her mouth uselessly, trying to find the words, before closing it sharply again with a click of her jaw, because she had no idea where to start.
The cold silence in the room was only interrupted by the sound of the ventilator currently keeping Scott alive, making him breathe even as his body shut down, even as he slipped farther and farther away from them.
Beep, whoosh. Beep, whoosh.
Malia sighed again, running her free hand raggedly down her face, squeezing Scott's cold fingers in her own.
"...Scott," she finally began, her voice quiet and hoarse, swallowing thickly in an effort to push back the tears that she still refused to let fall, that she was barely holding back now.
No response.
Not that she had really thought there would be, but she couldn't help but hope. She blamed Scott for her uncharacteristic optimism, because a few years ago, Malia was sure she would have given up already when faced with this situation.
"Lydia," she continued, leaning closer from her chair towards his bed, "and Deaton, actually...say that I should talk to you. That you might hear me, or something. I know your mom and Stiles have been trying."
Still no response, just the steady beeping of the machine pushing air into his lungs.
Beep, whoosh. Beep, whoosh.
Malia bit down on her lower lip in an effort to keep it from trembling. "And I don't know if you can hear me, Scott, if you can hear any of us, but if you can...you really need to wake up."
She paused, letting out a shaky breath as she stared at his passive, motionless face, desperately searching for any sign of life, any sign that he was still hanging on, still fighting to get back to her.
Beep, whoosh. Beep, whoosh.
"Deaton said," her voice was shaky now, unbidden tears welling up in her eyes, "that there's nothing more we can do. That there's nothing else that we can do to save you."
Malia shook her head, blinking rapidly against the building wetness in her eyes. "He said we should start saying our goodbyes."
Beep, whoosh. Beep, whoosh.
"But here's the thing, Scott," she sniffed, wiping her face haphazardly with the back of her hand, "I'm not ready to say goodbye. And we're not just going to let you go, not without a fight, okay? So that means you have to keep fighting, too. You can't leave us. You can't..."
Her voice broke as one lone tear finally escaped, rolling down her cheek. "...you can't leave me."
Still no response, no movement, not even a twitch or a moan, to let her know that he was still there.
Only the steady rhythm of the machine filled the aching silence of the room.
Beep, whoosh. Beep, whoosh.
"You have," she was losing her composure now, but there was no one else there at the moment to see it, "so much to come back for. Monroe is dead, and the war is over, Scott. We did it, well you did it, but we won. We can finally live our lives again...but I need you for that. I don't want to do this without you..."
The tears were coming faster now, streaming down her face at ever increasing speed, but Malia didn't care any more, barely even noticed, her entire attention focused on the motionless form in the bed.
"Scott, I love you," she whispered between her tears, squeezing his hand desperately, "and I know I don't say it enough, even though you say it all the time, but I do, I really do...and I need you to know that, okay? So please, if you can hear me, if you're still fighting, then you have to come back. Please come back Scott...please."
Beep, whoosh. Beep, whoosh.
The fear and the grief of losing the most important person in her life was crushing Malia under its weight, and she felt like she could barely breathe, could barely function. She collapsed helplessly against the bed, burying her face in her arms, her shoulders shaking with the force of the sobs that she couldn't hold back any longer.
Scott was dying...and she felt like she was dying too.
"How is he today?" Stiles asked hoarsely as he and Lydia entered Scott's bedroom later that day. Melissa had turned his old room at her house into a makeshift hospital room, and Malia didn't even want to know how she'd gotten all of the medical equipment there. In fact, she was currently at the hospital now getting more supplies, because she adamantly refused to face the fact that she might lose Scott for good his time.
Even with the brave face that Melissa put on, Malia just pretended that she couldn't hear her crying at night in her bedroom on the phone to Argent, begging him to find something that could save her son, because they all needed to believe that they could still do something.
Even if Deaton had finally said that there was no more hope, was just trying to prepare them for the worst, the rest of them weren't ready to give up just yet.
"The same," Malia replied, sitting up stiffly in the chair by Scott's bed, hoping her eyes weren't still red and puffy. Thankfully, if they were, her friends didn't mention it.
"Argent called earlier," Lydia said softly, coming to stand by Malia and resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He's still looking."
"So is Derek, and Mason and Liam," Stiles added, walking over to the other side of Scott's bed, frowning heavily as he looked down at his best friend.
It was terrifying, to see him like this, so still and fragile, looking like some sort of alien with all the tubes and wires coming out of him, all the modern medical equipment keeping him alive that typically a werewolf wouldn't even need to survive.
But really, Scott wasn't supposed to be alive at all, so they had to take small victories where they could.
The final battle with Monroe and her army had been bloody, and ugly, and long, but in the end, the supernatural had prevailed. They had won, and it was truly, finally over...but not without the casualties of war.
Monroe was finally gone, so the hunters had lost their leader, and they had been slowly dispersing until there was hardly anything left of them now.
But now the supernatural side was losing Scott too, because nothing about war was ever fair.
He had technically been dead when they'd gotten to him at the end of the final battle, because of course he'd put himself directly in the middle of the fray, but someway, somehow he had clung to life, just enough to give them hope that he might actually pull through.
After all, this was hardly the first time that Scott had cheated death.
But they didn't know what type of weapon had been used on him, what he had been hit with or poisoned with during the battle, and they didn't know how to fight it...and they didn't know how to save him.
As his body gave up, succumbing to his injuries, they had ended up hooking him up to the ventilator as a last resort, to keep him breathing, to buy them some more time...but time was quickly running out.
"They still haven't found anything," Malia breathed, looking away and linking her hand with Scott's again, "have they?"
Stiles pressed his lips tightly together with a shake of his head, eyes wet. "No."
"But they're still looking, everyone is," Lydia added, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "We're not giving up."
"Just Deaton," Malia said bitterly, because she still didn't understand it.
"He's just being realistic," Lydia replied with a sigh. "And he's still looking into other avenues too, but he just wants us to be prepared, just in case..."
"In case the worst happens," Stiles cut in, crossing his arms in front of his chest, jaw clenching as he tried to hold back his tears. "In case we...lose him."
Malia's eyes shot up to meet Stiles' across the bed, and she could read the fear and agony reflected back in her own. "...why do you sound like we already have?"
"No, I'm not, I'm not giving up yet," Stiles replied hoarsely, wiping away a stray tear with the back of his hand.
"But?" Malia questioned, not even trying to hide the fear in her voice. "Why are you guys even here? I thought you were helping Argent look for something that could help, or that you were still tapping your sources at the FBI to find something that could save him."
She didn't miss the long look that Lydia and Stiles exchanged, making her panic and irritation skyrocket even further. "Will you guys just tell me what the hell is going on?"
"We were looking, but we had to come back," Lydia interjected with a heavy sigh, her grip increasing on her shoulder, causing Malia to turn and look up at her, "because we're running out of time."
"Lydia," she asked her cautiously, eyes wide now, afraid to know the answer, "did you sense something? Do you know if something is about to happen to Scott?"
Lydia didn't answer right away, but when her face fell, Malia jumped up out of the chair, coming face to face with her. "Lydia, just say it. Don't try to hide it from me."
Lydia nodded, biting her lower lip. "I'm sorry, Malia. I just, I have a feeling..."
"That kind of feeling?" Malia could feel the panic building in her chest now, her heart clenching painfully as she demanded an answer from her friend. Lydia still hesitated, uncharacteristicly fumbling for her words. "Lydia!"
"It's more like a premonition," Stiles added miserably before Lydia could answer. "Like a message, sort of. A warning."
"So, what does that even mean?" Malia was growing frustrated now, looking back and forth between them. "Just tell me what's going on!"
"It was Allison," Lydia finally said, holding her gaze steadily, pausing as Malia's eyes grew wide, staring at her incredulously. "I know it sounds crazy, Malia, trust me I know, but I'm telling you, I heard Allison's voice..." she trailed off, voice tight, eyes filling with unshed tears as she talked about her dead best friend.
Malia hadn't really known Allison, but she knew what she had meant to the pack once, and to Lydia, and Scott, and she swallowed thickly, waiting for Lydia to continue.
"Okay, so, what did she...what did you hear?"
"It's all a little confusing, and hazy, and I only understood bits and pieces of it to be honest," Lydia sighed, running her hands through her hair, taking a deep breath to regain her composure. "But basically she was telling me, well warning me, that we have to figure out how to help Scott...by tomorrow night."
Tomorrow night was Christmas and a full moon, but Malia didn't know what that meant, didn't want to think about what Allison's warning from beyond might mean for Scott.
"Or what?" she asked hoarsely, eyes shining brightly with unshed tears now. "What happens tomorrow night?"
"If we," Stiles interjected, voice rough as he tried unsuccessfully to reign in his emotions, "if we don't find a way to save him, by tomorrow night..."
His voice broke, and he just shook his head, unable to continue.
"Then he's going to die," Lydia choked out, and Malia's heart dropped at her words. "If we can't find a way to save him by tomorrow night, then he's going to die."
It seemed surreal, like a dream, or a nightmare. Everyone was gathered in Scott's room, just hoping, praying for a miracle.
Because they didn't know what else to do.
It was comforting, in a small way, to have most of the pack gathered together in Scott's room, surrounding him with their protection and their love, all simultaneously hoping that they could will him into living somehow, into proving Lydia's ominous message from beyond the grave wrong.
Night was falling, the full moon slowly rising in the sky, and Malia had almost forgotten it was Christmas, because with Scott's life on the line, that's all any of them could even think about.
"I'm not ready for this," Liam's voice broke, voice full of unshed tears, "He can't die. I can't be the Alpha, I don't want to be, I don't want to lose him..."
"Hey, don't even think like that," Mason tried to comfort him, slinging an arm around his best friend's shoulders and giving a squeeze. "It's not over yet. Scott's still alive."
"And Scott's strong, he's the strongest one of all of us," Corey added quietly from Mason's other side.
"That's right," Melissa replied, forcing her voice to sound braver than she felt, but her underlying fear was evident to everyone, even the non-supernaturals in the room. "He's still here, and he's still fighting, and we're not going to lose him."
She frowned even at her own words, glancing at her phone for maybe the hundredth time since they'd all been gathered together, waiting on word from Argent as he scrambled to find a last minute miracle. She set her phone back down without a word, running her hands tenderly through Scott's tousled hair as he lay eerily still in the bed, her eyes brimming with tears. "There's still hope."
Malia just nodded, not trusting her voice, squeezing Scott's hand from where she stood on the other side of the bed. It was agonizing, just waiting, but they didn't know what else to do. They had all tried everything they could think of, searched everywhere possible to find a cure, but it was all coming down to the final minutes now.
Malia didn't think she'd ever felt more terrified and helpless in her entire life.
"He's going to make it," Stiles' voice was rough and quiet as he spoke, as if he hardly believed it himself. "I mean, this is Scott we're talking about here. If anyone could pull through this...then it's him."
"I could be wrong," Lydia tried, but it fell flat, because Lydia was never wrong about these kinds of things, even when she desperately wanted to be. "I could have been hearing things, because I've never heard Allison before, even when that's all I wanted, to talk to her somehow."
"It's okay," Malia said hoarsely, giving her arm a quick squeeze, because she knew her friend was somehow blaming herself, even though she was just the messenger.
"I'm sorry, I just..." Lydia trailed off, with a shake of her head. They all wanted her to be wrong, no one more than her, but that was just never the case when it came to Lydia and death.
Just then, a loud knocking on the front door downstairs startled them all. They all looked at each other curiously, wondering who else it could possibly be.
"It's not Chris," Melissa said quietly with a questioning look, "not yet."
"And Derek is still a ways out," Stiles added with a frown, hand automatically going to the handle of the side arm he always had at his hip now, ever since he had become a full-fledged FBI agent. Considering everything they had faced lately with the end of the war, Stiles refused to leave home without his gun. "And my Dad and Parrish are still following down some leads outside of town."
"Deaton is still at the clinic, trying one last thing," Lydia added, looking at the others with concern.
"Let me go check," Stiles nodded stiffly at them, hand still at the top of his gun, body automatically going into fighting stance as he left the room.
After a few moments, they heard some voices arguing downstairs, and the loud slamming of the front door, followed by Stiles stomping back up the stairs. He came back into the bedroom with a frustrated sigh, his gaze landing directly on Malia.
"Malia, it's Peter."
"Peter?" she asked confusion, because she had no idea why he would be there. "What does he want?"
Stiles shook his head, gesturing at her helplessly. "To see you."
Malia frowned, looking at the rest of the pack before turning back to Stiles. "Well, go ahead and tell him to leave, because I'm not leaving Scott."
"Gladly," Stiles gave her a smug look, turning to head back down the stairs when Melissa's voice stopped him.
"Wait."
Stiles froze, turning back around, as Malia turned to face Melissa across the bed, eyebrows raised in question.
"I know you and Peter have a...complicated relationship," Melissa began, looking at her seriously. "And I know he's done some unforgivable things in the past," she glanced down at Scott and then back up at her, "but he's also been sort of an ally for you guys the past few years, even if he's not always reliable."
She sighed, giving her a knowing look. "Like it or not, Malia, he really does care about you, even in his own selfish way. Just go talk to him."
"No," Malia shook her head firmly, jaw clenched, "I'm not leaving Scott."
"Scott will be fine," Melissa reassured her soothingly, "and you'll only be gone for a few minutes. You haven't left his side since this whole thing started. We'll be right here with him while you're downstairs. He'll be okay, Malia."
Even though Malia could hear through the hollowness of her words, because she knew that Melissa was completely terrified, she also knew that she was right. She needed to at least see what Peter wanted, and she could leave Scott for just a minute.
She sighed heavily. "Okay, fine. I'll go talk to him."
"Want me to come with you?" Stiles offered, looking at her carefully, and Malia gave him a small smile. It was still a weird concept, but Stiles was surprisingly good with a gun.
"It's okay, Stiles," she shook her head, "but I've got it."
He gave her a short nod in return as she headed for the stairs. She walked through the living room and purposefully swung open the front door of the McCall's house, stepping out onto the front porch and closing it firmly behind her.
Peter assessed her carefully from where he stood on the porch, the light of the full moon casting eerie shadows down on both of them. "You look exhausted."
Malia sighed, crossing her arms. "What do you want Peter?"
He frowned, almost looking confused as he gestured at her. "Well, I thought it was obvious. I came to see if you were alright."
"Well, he's not dead, if that's what you were hoping," she bit back between gritted teeth. "So you can go."
"Malia," Peter sighed tiredly with a shake of his head, "I thought by now, at least, that you'd start believing that I don't actually want Scott dead. After everything we've been through with Monroe and her mindless lackeys, I thought I'd proven myself by now, especially after I joined up with his little cause."
"And maybe I'd believe that," she narrowed her eyes at him, "if it weren't for all of the times you tried to kill Scott before."
Peter scoffed, waving her off. "Malia, come on, that was ages ago. I've changed, you've changed, we all have. Some for the better more than others, I'll give you that, but regardless, we're all changed people now."
"And some people don't change at all," she raised an accusing eyebrow at him.
Peter put a hand to his chest in mock hurt. "You and I both know that I've changed more than anyone. And yes, Scott and I mostly try to be cordial for your benefit, and I'll even admit it, he and I are little more than mutually beneficial allies really, but I don't want him to die. Not anymore. Surprisingly, he wasn't even that terrible a leader of this whole movement against Monroe. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not going to be president of the Scott McCall fan club anytime soon or anything. Besides, Stiles already has that title, and Derek is a close second, actually..."
"Peter," Malia sighed in exasperation, cutting him off with a shake of her head, "just get to the point."
"My point is," he stepped closer to her, voice uncharacteristically gentle, "is that you love him, Malia. And you're terrified that you're going to lose him."
She froze at his words, furiously blinking back the tears that suddenly sprung to her eyes, not used to being this vulnerable in front of him. They had been continually repairing their relationship over the years, but it was still tenuous at best, because she never knew how much she could trust him.
"And what would you know about that?" she growled at him, trying to hide her fear behind anger instead, because that was easier than letting Peter see how far she'd fallen. "You don't even know what love is, you haven't loved anyone but yourself for your entire life!"
Peter flinched at her words, lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke again, looking directly at her. "Not entirely true."
She paused at that, giving a hollow laugh. "Is that really why you're here? To see if I'm okay?"
He nodded slowly, taking another step closer to her, eyes burning with sincerity. "Would you believe me if I said yes?"
She hugged her arms tightly around herself, staring back at him as she answered. "I want to."
Peter was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. "Well, Malia, believe me when I say that I'm worried about you."
She blinked against her tears again, determined to remain in control. "Well, I'm fine. You can go."
"You're not," he replied quietly, giving her a knowing look. "Remember what I said about lying to a perfect liar? It doesn't work. Not with me."
"What do you want me to say?" she shot back, waving her arms around. "That I'm not okay? That I'm terrified? That I don't know what to do? That I'm falling apart because Scott is dy..."
A sob suddenly escaped her mouth unbidden, and she covered her face with her hands, turning her back to Peter in shame.
"Malia, hey," she heard Peter come up behind her, hesitantly placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently.
"...I'm okay," she rasped between her tears, still not turning to face him. "I'll be okay. Just go. Please."
"You can't be serious," Peter sounded genuinely surprised. "I'm not going anywhere when you're like this."
She nodded slowly, her back still to him, before she took in a shuddering breath, determined to regain her composure. She hastily wiped away her tears and turned to face him once again. "You don't need to stay."
"Let me help," Peter implored her, looking at her seriously. "I want to help. Tell me what I can do, Malia."
"There's nothing you can do," she shook her head, subconsciously taking a step back away from him, feeling exposed now. "I need to get back to Scott."
"Malia, I..." he took another step towards her, but she just gestured for him to stop, not sure she could keep herself together any longer.
"No, Peter, there's nothing you can do. Thanks, uh, for checking on me, but I don't need you to stay. Please just go," her voice was soft, hollow now after the tears.
"Okay, if that's what you want," he nodded with a heavy exhale, taking a step back again.
She smiled sadly, giving him a short nod of farewell, and began to turn back towards the door when Peter's voice stopped her short again.
"Malia, wait."
She looked back over her shoulder with a questioning look on her face. "Yeah?"
"Scott is going to be okay," he said quietly, but so matter-of-factly, so confidently, that it made Malia pause. "Trust me."
"Wait, what do you mean?" she furrowed her brows. "You don't know that."
Peter shrugged, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Just call it intuition."
Malia opened her mouth to ask him further what he meant, but he just shook his head, walking backwards away from her. "Everything is going to be fine. Goodnight, Malia."
"What? Peter, hey! Wait..." she called after him, but he was already gone, disappearing into the darkness.
She frowned in confusion at his words, but decided not too read too much into it because it was Peter after all, and headed back inside.
Malia wasn't prepared for the somber scene when she made it back into Scott's bedroom.
The pack was gathered closely around the bed now, and Malia could sense from the moment she came back into the room that something was really, really wrong.
"What's happening?" she asked in panic, rushing into the room and pushing her way close to Scott's side. "Is he okay?"
"He's still alive, but..." Mason trailed off, shaking his head, Corey rubbing his back soothingly. Liam stood stiffly next to them, hands balled into tight fists in effort to keep from shifting from his intense emotions.
Melissa wasn't even answering now, hovering close to the bed, furiously checking Scott's vitals, but her tears were threatening to spill.
"His heart," Stiles added hoarsely, clinging to Lydia as if she was the only thing still keeping him upright. "His pulse is slowing down, it's getting weaker every minute, and even with the ventilator keeping him breathing..."
"What?" Malia prodded fearfully, but she already knew. "What is it?"
"His body is shutting down," Stiles rasped heavily, a tear rolling down his cheek. "Even with all of the machines trying to keep him alive. It's just...it's just not enough."
"He's dying," Lydia whispered, looking at her sadly. "The warning, Allison...it was right. We're really losing him."
Melissa's phone suddenly rang, making them all jump in the heavy silence, as she scrambled to answer it.
"Where are you?" she barked, her voice raw. "Hurry! We need you here now."
She hung up, carelessly tossing the phone on the side of Scott's bed, messing with a setting on the ventilator again, going into full nurse mode, unable to stop and think as a mother in the current situation, because then she would break.
Only minutes later, but what felt like an eternity, Argent suddenly burst into the room, Derek hot on his heels.
Scott's heart was barely beating now.
"You're cutting it really close!" Melissa urged in panic as they came into the room. "We're losing him!"
"Here," Argent said, holding up a small clear bottle with some sort of solution mixed inside it, "I don't know if this will work..."
"But it's all we've got," Derek said heavily, frowning darkly as he looked at Scott's prone form in the bed. "It's the only thing we could find."
"Well then it will have to work," Melissa clenched her jaw, lines of worry creasing her forehead. Without pause, she grabbed a syringe and filled it up with the solution in one fluid motion. She only hesitated a moment with a look over her shoulder at Argent. "Wait! How do I give it to him?"
"Directly into his heart," Argent told her quickly. "It has to be injected directly into his heart!"
"Melissa, now," Lydia croaked out, eyes pressed tightly shut, whole body trembling as she fought to suppress a scream. "Now!"
Melissa nodded, pursing her lips tightly, eyes wide. "Okay, okay, here it goes..."
With a deep breath, she plunged the the needle directly into Scott's heart.
For a long agonizing moment, nothing happened, and Malia knew she couldn't take it if this final attempt didn't work, that she wouldn't be able to survive it if she really lost him.
"Come on, Scott, come on," Stiles muttered next to her, making a nervous fist. "You can do this, come on..."
"Scott, you're too strong to die like this!" Melissa pleaded with him, voice shaking now. "You have to fight!"
"Come on Scott, you're an Alpha," Liam choked out, "and you have to beat this thing, come on..."
"Scott, we need you," Malia barely recognized her own voice through her tears, "please..."
Time ticked by agonizingly slow, Scott's heart coming to stop. And then, just as they were starting to give up all hope...it worked.
Scott's heart rate suddenly started coming up, his pulse slowly returning to a normal rate to their astonishment.
Then his eyes suddenly flew open, shining a bright alpha red as he slowly came back to consciousness. He immediately started choking and gagging on the tube in his throat from the ventilator, eyes wide with panic and grogginess, completely unaware of what was going on around him.
"Easy, Scott, easy! You're okay," Melissa soothed him, rubbing circles on his chest and trying to calm him before he hurt himself or anyone around him, "you're safe, sweetheart. Don't try to fight the tube, this is helping you breathe, okay? Just relax and let it help you."
She nodded quickly at Derek and Liam, who as the strongest two in the room, came closer and helped to hold him still against the bed as he continued to struggle, thrashing around in the bed and against the machines hooked up to him, ready to fight an unknown enemy.
"Scott," Malia choked out, coming closer so that he could see her, beyond grateful to see him awake again, "you're okay. We've got you. I've got you. I'm right here."
He seemed to relax instantly at her voice, finally giving up his panicked struggle, his eyes roaming around until they finally landed on her face. She squeezed his hand tightly in reassurance, and almost burst into tears when she felt him squeeze back.
Scott was alive. And he was going to be okay.
"You're looking a lot better," Derek gave a small smile from where he stood at the foot of the bed.
"Thanks," Scott smiled back at him, "I'm feeling a lot better, seriously."
His expression became a little more serious then as he looked at both Derek and Argent. "And that's thanks to you, both of you. You saved my life."
Argent nodded at him. "I'm just glad we got it to you in time."
"Me too," Scott sighed, leaning back against the pillows. Malia pulled him closer against her side from where she was curled up in the bed next to him. Scott was getting stronger, but he wasn't completely recovered yet, and he was ordered on bed rest by Melissa and pretty much the entire pack, until they were sure that he was really okay.
"How did you guys even find a cure, anyways?" Stiles asked curiously from where he and Lydia stood on the other side of the bed.
"It's a long story," Argent sighed, still looking completely exhausted from his nonstop search, "but we found an old ritual that uses the blood of a supernatural shapeshifter, but it had to be a powerful one. The catch was that it also had to be the blood of someone who had been beyond the grave and back, to use as a sort-of trade off, or a payment, to keep someone else in the land of the living."
"Not an easy combination to find," Derek added then, "especially because the ritual might have unintended consequences on anyone who helped us. They had to be willing to complete the ritual without knowing what the long term effects would be."
"And considering it's blood magic," Argent looked at them heavily, "there's no telling what those consequences might be."
"So, what sucker did you convince to participate then?" Stiles furrowed his brows. "That couldn't have been an easy sell."
"We can get into it later, but let's just say we got some help from an unlikely source," Derek replied, looking back at Scott with an unreadable expression. "But for now, you need to rest."
Malia suddenly thought of Peter's strange comment the night before, and she stored away that thought for later, having a sinking feeling that she really needed to talk to him about this.
Scott opened his mouth to protest Derek's statement, but just then Melissa entered the bedroom with a tray of food, setting it down by the bed. "He's right. Scott does need to rest. You can all catch up later."
"Not a bad idea," Argent barely suppressed a yawn. "We'll talk later, Scott. Promise."
"Okay, deal," Scott gave him a short nod of understanding.
"I'll come back by tomorrow," Derek added then, giving him a grateful look. "It's good to see you awake."
Scott nodded at him with a tired smile. "Thank you, for everything."
Derek gave him a short nod before leaving the room, Argent on his heels. Melissa had already shooed away Liam, Mason, and Corey earlier, as well as the Sheriff and Parrish, so now that only left Stiles, Lydia, and Malia.
Melissa gave them a long look, but she knew it would be nearly impossible to split up the four of them. "Five minutes," she warned gently but there was a smile on her face.
"Yeah, of course," Lydia replied sweetly, but all of them already knew that they weren't going anywhere.
Melissa couldn't hide her smirk as she left.
"I can't believe everything that happened while I was...out," Scott said carefully with a sigh. "I can't believe I missed Christmas, again."
"Yeah, man, you missed a lot," Stiles sighed, shaking his head, "but the important thing now is that you're okay."
Malia couldn't have agreed more, snuggling closer into the bed against him. "You really scared us."
He turned to look at her, pressing a kiss against her forehead. "I know. I'm sorry, Malia. I'm sorry that I scared all of you."
"Just never do it again," she told him firmly, leaning over to land a kiss on his lips. "Ever."
Scott gave her a wry grin. "I promise I'll do my best."
They both knew that it was a promise he coudn't keep, but maybe it was one that was more likely now that the war was finally over.
"I don't know what this means about my abilities," Lydia mused, sagging against Stiles. "I mean, they've never worked quite like this before, but this could be something else I could use in the future, to help us."
She sighed, trailing off with a sad smile. "I just wish that I could really talk to Allison."
"I know," Scott said softly, a wistful look on his face, and Malia frowned sympathetically, because she knew the other girl's loss still haunted her friends.
"At least we were able to have some more warning, this time," Stiles said quietly, putting his arm around Lydia's shoulders and giving her a comforting squeeze. His eyes were boring into Scott's when he continued.
"You cut it way too close this time," his voice was soft, serious. "I don't know how much you remember, if anything, but we thought for a minute there we were going to lose you, Scotty."
Scott was quiet for a long moment, linking his hand tightly with Malia's and squeezing before he finally spoke again. "For a minute there, you did."
Malia frowned, giving him a questioning look at his words, as Scott looked first at her and then over to Stiles and Lydia.
"And Lydia?" he was looking at her now, an unreadable expression on his face.
"Yeah?" she replied quizzically, raising her eyebrows. The room went completely silent when he spoke again.
"Allison says hi."
Can't have an angsty story without some Allison mentions (tears forever).
Also, Peter is such a complex character and also extremely hard to write, so I hope that whole scene with him and Malia came across in character.
One more!
