Hello my dears! I'm afraid I panicked a bunch of you! That was notthe last chapter. I would be the MEANEST person alive! I would never do that!

Alright, let's get started! I'd say I don't have much left in this fic. Hopefully you'll enjoy!

Chapter 14

When Is a Door Not a Door?

Thank God Stiles hadn't replaced his father's bullets with wolfsbane ones.

That was the first thing Scott thought as his bones snapped back in their rightful places and his body tried to heal itself. He felt like he just ran a marathon; logically he knew that it would take longer to get his body completely healed from the astronomical ass kicking he just received.

The second thought that hit him was, "Holy shit what just happened?!"

Because he wasn't hurting everywhere because his body wasn't healing (although, that certainly didn't help). He was hurting because his entire pack was hurting.

Blinking dazedly, Scott fumbles to his feet with the help of someone – Isaac, his blurried vision helped him that much. He frantically tries to see where everyone is, but can't bring himself to focus on individual scents. All he can smell is blood.

And a lot of it.

"What happened?" Scott cries, stumbling as soon as he's on his feet. Isaac catches him, clutching his shoulders and Scott attempts to steady himself. When Isaac doesn't immediately answer, Scott shouts again, "What happened!"

"Scott!"

Scott whirls around, the fright in Derek's voice scaring him. Derek never does fright. Sometimes he gets tense and more often he gets intense, but he doesn't do fright. So when fright laces his voice, Scott goes against everything his body is telling him (i.e. don't move) and rushes over to where he is.

And then his entire body ices over.

"M-Mr. Stilinski," Scott chokes, his hands shaking the moment he lays eyes on him. He puts his hands out to cover the claw marks that line his chest, but they hesitate and shake. Blood pools underneath the older man, his skin growing cold. "O-Oh my God, oh my God, what happened?"

Then it came rushing back to him, the haze of red that veiled his vision and forced him to feel entirely threatened and scared. There was someone who felt like a threat and all he wanted to do was escape. And so he needed to take out the threat in front of him.

"O-Oh God!" Scott's words quake as he presses his hands down on the man who became more of a father figure than his own ever was. "Oh God! I-I'm so sorry! I-I—"

"You okay, son?" Mr. Stilinski gets out, his words shaky and labored. His weak hand reaches up and brushes against where the bullet entered his body. The skin has since knitted back together, but the blood remains dried at his torn shirt. "I-I'm sorry—"

"No," Scott's words turn into a sob, too much red flowing through his fingers. "N-No, you can't die. I-I can't be the o-one to kill you. I-I can't be the one t-to make Stiles…" Scott's eyes widen. "Stiles!"

When Scott looks over to the stone table, he wished he hadn't.

Because then, at least he could've had hope.

Lydia kneels over Stiles' still body, her fists clutching his shirt, her volumous sobs echoing in the room. How did he not hear the before? How did he not hear Lydia choking? How did he not hear the absence of the heartbeat he took for granted?

"P-Please," Lydia cries out, her entire body shaking not only herself, but Stiles. "P-Please don't let this be it. P-Please…"

"W-What's going on?" The Sheriff asks, trying to get himself upright, but Derek gently places his hands on his chest, making sure he stays on the ground. "M-My son. W-What's happening t-to Stiles? H-How's m-my son?"

The only response is Lydia's sobs.

A light clacking of footsteps brings Scott out of his reverie. He glances up to see Allison, her jaw set and firm, her gaze stuck on Stiles. He has to look away. He can't bring himself to watch her, to look at her.

It would never be the same.

Seeing Allison – after she died – is like trying to fit an extra piece to a puzzle. Maybe it would make the image more beautiful, but it didn't make any sense. All it did was confuse him. He wants to grab her and kiss her, but at the same time, he wishes this day never occurred. Scott thought he would give anything to see Allison again, but now he doesn't know how to handle her presence.

Because when he looks at her face? He hears the empty silence of a world that no longer holds a Stiles Stilinski.

"M-My son," Scott hears the Sheriff pant out, but he forces himself to block it out. He forces himself to look away from the tears pooling the man's eyes. "M-My s-son."

He can feel Allison gaze on him, but he stares straight ahead.

"Scott," he hears Derek's hesitant voice behind him. "Scott, we need to get him to a hospital or he's going to die. Scott. Scott!"

But Scott doesn't respond.

He's just a teenager.

He can't be a True Alpha.

Not like this.

"Scott!"

"I can't, okay?" Scott shouts at Derek, tears blurring his already questionable vision. "I-I can't…" His word is broken and he sucks in a breath that seems to escape him. "Please don't make me." The sentence comes out small.

He can hear Derek huff behind him. For a moment, he thought the man was going to scream at him. Instead, he hears a gruff, "Isaac, call an ambulance."

Isaac stares at him. "How are we going to explain the sacrificial offering, the two dead supernatural hunters, and oh, I dunno, the return of someone whose died?"

Scott bows his head.

Allison steps forward, toward the stone table where Stiles and Lydia lie. When she reaches them, she hesitantly puts her hand out to touch Lydia's shoulder, but pulls back at the last time. Instead, she walks around to the front of the table where Stiles' head lays.

Reaching out, Allison's fingers tremble. She buries them in Stiles mane of hair, pulling through the knots. It's weirdly intimate to watch. Scott wants to look away. It'd be easier. She brings her head close to his and Scott hears a faint, "It was never your fault."

Then, she swiftly pulls her hands out of his hair. Grabbing the last arrow in her quiver, Allison gives everyone an apologetic look. "I-I'm so sorry. I'm sorry if my presence reopened any wounds. I wasn't supposed to come back."

Her lower lip trembles. "Scott, I would never make you choose."

With a movement too quick to even understand what was happening, Allison swipes the arrow tip down each of her wrists and crumbles to the floor.

XXX

Of course there's a door in a white room.

Because obviously.

Stiles knows he's not the best person in the world, but he didn't think he would be trapped in his own personal hell when he died.

He steps over to the door, contemplating whether he actually wants anything to do with this stupid piece of wood. Then again, it beats being stuck in this white room for all of eternity.

With a sigh, he reaches out and pulls it open, almost falling backward when it reveals someone on the other side.

Allison.

Stiles makes a move to cross the path toward her, but Allison puts a hand up and shouts, "Don't!"

Stiles freezes, staring at her from the other side of the door. "A-Allison?" He chokes out, staring at the girl who's haunted his dreams for more days than he can count. "Is that really you?"

She smiles that smile only Allison can have – the one where it fills you up from your toes and you feel warm even in the coldest of times. "You're surprised?" She laughs.

"W-Well, yeah!" Stiles cries, shaking his head. "I mean, it was Kate. The last thing I expected her to do was tell the truth."

Allison frowns, sitting down onto the white floor, cross-legged. She motions for him to follow her suit, keeping her hand up to clearly say that he needed to stay on his side of the door frame. "Then why'd you do it? If you didn't even believe that she was telling the truth?"

Stiles shrugs, joining her on the floor. "The chance that you would come back to life was better than the chance that I would somehow forgive myself for allowing it to happen."

Allison stares at him, exasperated. "It's not your fault, Stiles."

His chest clenches. It's different. It's different when it comes from her. It's different when it's from the person he killed. His eyes water almost instantaneously and he feels the deep need to hide. He gives her a grim smile. "Except that it is, Allison."

She sighs from her side of the door.

Stiles hastily wipes the tears from his eyes, frowning at the room. "Last time I was here, a Japanese demon was trying to get me to be locked in my head forever through a board game. Oh how the tables have tabled."

Allison snorts. "I really do miss your humor."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Usually people call it annoying."

"Only because they love you so much." She grins. "I'm certain they miss your humor just as much as I do."

Stiles shakes his head. "But the world's not funny anymore. It's just a little darker… actually, fuck it. It's a lot darker these days. It's unbearably dark and horrible and so profoundly not funny that I can't imagine… ever making light of it again."

When Stiles meets Allison's eyes, they're filled with tears. "It's always been horrible, Stiles. And you know that it has. The world is a horrible place. But there's always hope. Always, always hope."

"It's hard to remember when you're not here to remind us." Stiles mumbles out.

"Maybe if you'd visit my grave once and a while," Allison snorts, eyeing him. Stiles merely shrugs. "You can do this, Stiles. I believe in you."

Stiles gestures to the room filled with white they're in. "Can do what exactly, Allison? In case you haven't noticed, I'm pretty sure I'm dead."

Allison shakes her head. "Only if I take your place."

"Take it!" Stiles shouts, his eyes wide. "Holy fuck, what are you waiting for? Go back! Go be with Scott or Isaac or whatever! Definitely go be with your dad and just be happy and make sure everyone else is happy! You never should've died in the first place! GO back."

"No."

With a single world, she shatters every foundation he's one.

"Why the fuck not?"

Allison shrugs. "You said it yourself. Resurrection comes with a price. With Peter it was his strength and Alpha categorization. With Kate it was her humanity. Who knows what would happen to me? Stiles, I died. It was my time. I died saving Isaac and Kira. And I'm proud of that. I died a hero. Don't take that away from me."

"That makes no sense, Allison! How could I ever take that away from you?"

"You'll take away how I saved my friends, replacing it with how I killed you."

Stiles stares. "W-What?"

"Don't you get it, Stiles? If I take your place, all people will be able to do is see you. See how you should've been here, but I took your life. You father would never be able to look at me. I doubt even Scott could. It's not better, don't you see? Nothing about this will ever be better. That's just life."

Stiles lip trembles. "B-But," he knows he sounds like a child. He knows that it's petulant and small, but he can't bring himself to be anything otherwise. "But what about me? What about me, Allison? That's all fine and dandy that you've come to peace with being dead and all. But what about me? I miss you, Allison. I miss you and I don't know how to live in a world where you no longer exist. I just don't know how to do it."

She stares at him. The room is quiet and loud at the same time, but he isn't sure how that's possible. Allison reaches through the door frame, her fingers centimeters from his before she stops and retreats. "People always seem to forget how close we were."

"I was your freaking messenger owl through 95% of your relationship with Scott." Stiles snorts.

Allison nods her head, tears falling down her cheeks. "You were more than that, you know that."

Stiles sighs. "Yeah. And you were more to me than my best friend's girlfriend."

"I know." The words are soft.

"Are you sure?" Stiles asks, his tone urgent. "Because I really need to know that you know that. I never was sure."

"I know, Stiles. I know."

He nods.

Allison stands and he follows her. With a goofy grin, he asks, "Now what?"

Allison reaches out and just when he thinks she's going to grasp his hand, she grabs the doorknob of the door. "When is a door not a door?" She grins, pulling it closer to her.

Stiles gapes.

"What?" She laughs. "Too soon?"

"Yeah, too soon!"

She snorts, pulling it closer. "What do you do now, Stiles? I thought it was painfully obvious.

"You live."

The door slams shut.

A/N:Hey! I know it was a little shorter than I intended, but I wanted a desperately needed Stiles/Allison conversation. I think I have about one more chapter with this and I am officially done with this fic! Wow! I actually completed two long fics without getting annoyed and giving up! *self-high five*

The aftermath of everything will be next chapter.

Please leave a note if you have time!