Hey! Thank you so much for putting up with this story after all this time! This is, indeed the last chapter, because obviously if I tried to work my baby Stiles through all of his problems in ONE fic, this would be like, a million chapters long. But, baby steps, right?

This is a little sad, reaching the end of this. I mean, you can probably tell from Real or Not Real and this fic, I'm a big fan of foreshadowing and twists/turns. So this was good fun to plant a bunch of little hints throughout the work and wait to see if anyone would catch what's important!

Once more – with feeling! Here. We. Go.

Chapter 15

Taking Back This Soul That is So Rightfully Mine

"We've got a middle-aged white male, three puncture wounds from pectorals to abdomen, unconscious and not breathing. Take him to OR 2. Incoming in less than thirty."

"Teenage white male, lacerations from elbow to wrists. Unconscious and unresponsive. OR 3."

Melissa McCall peers up from where she's enjoying her third cup of coffee for her shift, her eyes sleepy and body tired. She feels like she's aged three years in the past one – does supernatural shenanigans speed up the aging process for humans? She wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.

She lazily peeks over the counter of the Nurses Station at the two figures who are being carted into the hospital. It takes her brain approximately five seconds to comprehend who 'middle-aged white male' and 'teenager white male' were, and about three more to move from her frozen position behind the nurses station. Then she's up and pouncing on the EMTs who've rushed them inside, asking, "What happened?"

The EMT stares at her. "I have no idea. We got a call. Animal attack is the only thing we can think of, but the slices on the kids wrists are very similar to…"

He trails off because of the elephant in the room. That's not just 'middle-aged white male' and 'teenage white male,' that's Sheriff Stilinski and Stiles Stilinski. But everyone seems to be avoiding that fact. Shaking her head, she gestures wildly for them to continue down the hall. "Well you heard them! OR 2 and 3! Get them there and fast!"

A few nurses scuttle fast behind them and she stops one. "It looks like they'll both need blood transfusions. Make sure to stock up on both. The Sheriff is A+ and Stiles is AB-. Make sure they have more than enough. I don't care what the center says to you, get enough to keep them alive ten times over."

The nurse nods and Ms. McCall brushes past all the rushing people, fighting the flow of traffic until she bursts into the waiting room. And it's as horrible as she expected.

They are all there. Scott, Derek, Isaac, Malia, Kira (with an ice pack on the back of her head – she makes a mental note to check the teenager out later). They all have tears streaking down their faces (except, of course, for Derek, who simply looks like he's angry at everything in the entire world, but what else is new). She rushes over to them, her eyes wide. "What the hell happened?"

All of them look up at her, but they seem to stare through her. She doesn't think she's gonna get an answer until she hears Derek's rough voice.

"Kate."

Ms. McCall closes her eyes at the word.

"She got to Stiles. The plan all along. Allison. Hunters who aren't here anymore."

The fragments aren't making a lot of sense, but it's more than she expected with the in-shock teens. Instead, she does something she can do, which is tip Kira's head up and shine a light in her eyes. "How's your head feeling?" She asks, frowning at the caked, dried blood at the base of Kira's neck.

"I'm fine." Kira manages. "I'm fine."

Melissa sighs. "And Kate did that to the Sheriff? That was her doing?"

What she doesn't expect is when everyone stiffens and turns away from Scott. Scott, however, heaves a breath, tears dotting his eyes. "No," he says breathlessly. "It was me."

He looks up at his mother and he looks all of seven years old. The tears are falling and his entire body quivers. "That was me. I did that. It was me. It was me."

Without thinking of the scene that was starting in the waiting room of the hospital, Melissa wraps her arms around her son and holds on. "I'm sure it wasn't you. I'm sure."

"I-It was me, Mom," he chokes. "I-It was me."

And in that moment, Melissa understands Stiles.

Because she knows that her son would never harm the Sheriff unless under the influence of something.

But he won't listen to that.

So instead, she holds him.

That's all really anyone can do.

XXX

As it turns out, even jacked-up, strung-out-on-wolfsbane-Scott was still, at least a tiny bit in control of himself. Because while the Sheriff lost a lot of blood and will forever have some really badass scarring on his chest, the claw wounds weren't deep enough to ensure that he died. The only thing the doctors could come up with is that the animal 'hesitated' (if wild animals could even do that), and so the Sheriff gets to live.

That information probably saved Scott McCall a lifetime of guilt and nightmares.

Although, the Sheriff wasn't the confusing one.

That special honor was reserved for Stiles.

Because the doctors – for the life of them – could not figure out how someone could lose 75% of their blood and still not die. Stiles had to hand it to them – it was a pretty perplexing question. And now his tattoos were cut in half by a thick stiches and he knows that he'll have to be sedated and tattooed once more to try and forget this ever happened. Because that was Stiles' game.

Ignoring the problem in hopes that it would entirely wash away.

The sort of magical part was how both Stilinski's almost died. That's the story on the street, however. Because apparently the Sheriff crashed in OR 2 and Stiles crashed once he was out of his own operation. They were in their rooms, dying and not with each other. That's when Melissa McCall – always the hero in the 11th hour – came up with the brilliant suggestion that the two actually shouldn't be in their own rooms. She wheeled the Sheriff into Stiles room and it was almost supernatural how quickly they both turned around.

Which leaves them both together now, watching baseball on the shitty hospital television, eating questionable food.

Stiles frowns at his jello. "Is this how you feel whenever I try and feed you tofu?" He asks his father, grimacing at the green substance.

"Yes."

"I'm so sorry." He gags. "Not that I'll ever stop making you eat healthy, but at least I'm sorry about it now, right?"

His father just snorts and rolls his eyes at his son.

Stiles can't help it – he smiles back. Because Stiles has heard a lot about anchors – from Derek, Scott, hell, even Peter – and he agreed with Ms. McCall that being your own anchor is probably the best. But the problem is, Stiles isn't entirely sure he's ready for that yet. He's not ready to be on his own, no matter how much he tried.

At one point, he thought his anchor was Lydia. She brought him down from more panic attacks than he'd like to admit. Sometimes he thought it was Scott. After all, they were brothers from different mothers.

But both were wrong.

Of course his anchor is his dad. It's almost scandalizing how long it took for him to figure it out. Because as he was laying on that table, waiting to die, screaming and fighting happening around him, all he could hear was one thing.

"We had a deal, Stiles. You do not have permission to die!"

There it is.

Of course.

One of the nurses peeks her head in the hospital room, her eyes crinkling in that way the two Stilinski's have grown accustomed to the past few days. The 'It's so sad you both almost died, but you two are simply adorable. Remember that time you guys got better simply from being in the same room as one another?' It had been annoying, but Stiles has moved past that.

Because, they were adorable.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I need to take Mr. Stilinski for some check-up tests."

Stiles frowns. "Which one? You realize we're technically both 'Mr. Stilinski's."

His dad huffs a laugh. The wheelchair is moved toward him and Stiles stiffens as his dad lowers himself in it, the nurses shaking her head with amusement. "No, kid," he chuckles. "You are 'Stiles.' I am the only person in this room that is 'Mr. Stilinski.' You have not earned the title yet."

"Good. I don't want to be an old person."

That earns Stiles a cuff upside the head as his father leaves. Stiles laughs, but he watches until his father's out of sight. Because as much as he doesn't want to admit it, he was very close to losing everything. On the grand scale of everything, his father did come before his own life. But that would've been his own fault too.

And now he's left alone, once again, with only his thoughts. That was the most dangerous thing.

Because he feels guilty. Ashamed. Horrified that he played into the whole plan. It should've surprised him more that he was set up by the Lamonts since the beginning, but he was mainly pissed. Pissed that their plan almost worked. Pissed that he played his part perfectly.

Mainly pissed that he even had a part to play.

And in the corner of his mind, he was a little frightened. It wasn't until Stiles practically choked it out of him did Scott admit that they all went back to Derek's parent's house.

The bodies were gone.

The Lamonts vanished.

Because in this town, staying dead apparently is more challenging than resurrecting. At least if you're a villain, apparently. Because the good die young and they stay dead and that's terrible.

As if he could hear the mental war that just started inside of Stiles' head, Scott is in the doorway of his room.

His head is bowed – as it has been every time Scott's come to visit. He's barely able to look the Sheriff in the eyes, let alone Stiles. Stiles hates that the Lamonts did this to him. Made him feel like… well… Stiles.

"'Sup, buddy," Stiles smiles weakly, motioning to the chair next to his bed.

It occurs to him that this is the first time he and Scott have been alone together since everything happened. It's out of no personal thing against Scott (which, now that he thought about it, is probably exactly how he took it), but mainly out of the fear of his dad being out of his sight.

Scott shuffles next to him, slumping in the seat and staring at the baseball game. Scott hates baseball. But he watches it for a few moments regardless.

"I never understood, you know?"

When Scott does speak, Stiles knows exactly what he's talking about. And he hates that.

"I never got it. I couldn't figure out how to make you understand that it wasn't your fault. I would get frustrated and angry and want to just smack you," Stiles can't help but snort at that admission. "but I never got it. Until now."

Stiles gazes at his best friend. "I'm sorry that you understand now."

Scott shakes his head, blinking away tears. "What if I'd killed him?"

"You didn't, Scott."

"Yeah, but what if I did?" Scott snaps over him, his eyes flashing a deep red. He blinks a few times until it goes away, looking at Stiles sheepishly. "I can't be the person responsible for your dad's death."

"You wouldn't have been, Scott." Stiles says it, even though he knows it'll fall on deaf ears. "I wouldn't blame you then and I don't blame you now."

Scott's laugh is humorless. "Except I don't believe it."

"I know." Stiles sighs. "That's the shitty part about everything, isn't it?"

The conversation settles because it is shitty. And there's really no arguing about that. But that's when Scott's voice gets even smaller does it really concern him. "Are you gonna be okay?" he asks, still looking away.

That was the question, wasn't it? Because Stiles isn't sure. He's not gonna say that, but he really isn't. He looks at Scott and thinks about his dad. Thinks about Nathan and Allison and his mom and that's enough to take a person's breath away.

But the fact is, it comes back. He breath comes back with every moment. And for that, he thinks he might be okay. Maybe. "I think so," he says cautiously, staring at his best friend. "I think so."

Scott peers at him – probably listening to his heart to see if he's lying – and then asks carefully, "Really?"

Stiles smiles faintly. "Someone reminded me that there's always hope."

XXX

The two Stilinski's get discharged two days later. Since they both are recovering, they are under strict instructions to stay with the McCalls (which Scott doesn't mind and he's certain his mother doesn't). In fact, it felt nice to have the two men under their roof for a while. If anything, so Scott can keep an eye on them.

As they're making their way out of the hospital, Scott can feel Stiles freeze at his side. He looks around for the source of his panic and ices over when he see Nancy at the Nurses Station. Scott can only make out a little bit of the conversation – something about a 'Death Certificate' and 'body pick-up' – over Stiles wildly beating heart.

"Let's just leave," Scott hisses, groaning when Stiles gets up from the wheelchair (so not hospital protocol) and marches over to her, his face set and stony.

"I know why it chose me." He states, causing the Sheriff to pale and Scott to tense and Nancy to turn around. Her eyes darken when they reach Stiles, but he looks so calm. Set. "And you're wrong. You're wrong about me."

Nancy's eyes water, her hands gripping what Scott could only imagine was the death certificate of her son. This was so not ending well. "How is that?"

Stiles lower lip quivers. "I thought for the longest time that I must be the most terrible person in the world. Because that was the only thing I could think of for having that happen. I-I convinced myself that I must done something terrible to deserve everything. I let the shadow overtake me and I lost myself for such a long time. Longer than I'd like to admit, really.

"But then I realized, I was chosen because… because I'm the most like it."

Scott makes a noise and the Sheriff tries to stand, but Ms. McCall places a hand on his shoulder, giving him a knowing look.

Nancy's grim. "No one's arguing that, Stiles."

"I'm the one who figures it out," Stiles says bitterly. "I'm the one who plans and researches and thinks in a different way than anyone else. I'm the trickster. Out of me, Scott, or… or Allison, I'm the trickster."

Everyone's quiet. Scott can hear Stiles' heart pounding in his chest like it's begging to get out, but he remains resolute.

"Nathan didn't deserve it. Any of it," Stiles says, the tears falling down his cheeks. Nancy's threaten to follow suit. "Any of the chaos, pain, or strife. He didn't deserve what happened to him or what happened to his dad—"

"He told you?" Nancy asked, her voice breaking and soft. "He told you that?"

Stiles nods. "I cared about him. So much. And he didn't deserve to die. Any of it, actually.

"But then again, neither did I."

As soon as the sentence escapes his mouth, Scott stiffens. He peers over at his mom who's beaming, tears in her eyes. He's never seen the Sheriff look so proud.

"I'm seventeen years old. Seventeen. You can't put all that on me. You can't say how horrible to one person and then put everything on me. I didn't deserve what happened and I don't deserve what you're doing now." Stiles continues calmly. Firm.

"Listen, I don't know if there's a Heaven or Hell," Stiles says with a shrug. "At this point, I'm open to almost anything after things I've seen. And I certainly hope there is because people like Nathan, Allison, and my mother deserve there to be a Heaven. Because if anyone could get into it, it'd be those three.

"But I do believe that souls are real. They're real things that can get just as beaten and tainted as our bodies. And for the longest time, I didn't believe that I even had control of mine anymore. It felt like it was ruined. And what's the point of anything if you're soul isn't even yours?"

Stiles tilts his chin, his jaw clenched and resolute. "But I'm done with that. With all of that. I'm taking it back. I'm taking back this soul that is so rightfully mine."

With that, he whirls around and sits back down in the wheelchair. Tears are still flowing down his cheeks.

"I'm ready to go home now."

XXX

It takes him three attempts to get out of the Jeep. Four, if you could the first time he touches the door handle.

Scott waits because he's a good friend.

By the time they reach the headstone, the sun is setting. He texts his mom that yes, they're still at the cemetery and yes, Stiles is finally out of the car.

They stop before her grave.

Scott's chest clenches as it usually does whenever he sees it. Allison Argent. It hurts, but it's necessary. He's not sure he ever wants that to go away. The pain is there for a reason. It reminds him of her, of what they've lost. What they still have the potential to lose.

Stiles places the lilies at her grave, his hands trembling as they do so. He gives Scott a teary look and Scott nods, taking a few steps back to give them privacy.

He supposes this is how it all started. This gravestone. It all started with his absence and it ends with his presence.

Closing his eyes, he breathes in the smell of dusk. It's earthy and alive and it may be Scott's favorite time of the day. He listens to Stiles frantic heartbeat as his best friend kneels before the love of his life and Scott feels himself getting a little choked up himself.

"So, Allison," he hears Stiles say. "I tried to make a few jokes today – for you. I don't think they were very funny…"

Scott snorts at this admission. Stiles doesn't like to talk about what happened when he was technically 'dead,' but it did change him.

He smiles at that.

Even gone, Allison manages to make lives better.

He tries to tune out his best friend's chatter because it feels like he's invading on a personal moment. So instead he looks at the woods.

It's weird that it's all changed in such a small amount of time. Because he can't help but be afraid of what might be in there. They used to just be a forest. Now it's so much more.

Scott doesn't know if the Lamonts are still alive. If they'll come back for revenge or stay hidden. He doesn't know if Stiles will continue to be 'okay' (or as okay as one can be, given the circumstance) and he certainly doesn't know what the next month holds for him.

So instead, he holds onto this one moment. This one moment were everything's quiet. He can smell the beginning of rain and hear cheerful shrieks from the playground in the distance. He thinks of the family dinner that his mother is making for the two boys and the Sheriff and about how he may have a date with Kira tomorrow.

So in this moment, everything actually was okay.

A/N: OH MY GOSH IT'S OVER. Wow! I can't believe it's done! Thank you so much for reading this and sticking with all of my shenanigans. Hopefully for the remainder of Season 4, they acknowledge that Season 3B actually happened. So far, I believe Mr. Davis has amnesia regarding that matter.

If you want to talk or say hello, I do have a tumblr: (I'm a chatty Kathy and love theorizing with people)

And if you have time, please let me know what you thought of this fic! It kinda ran away from me (I was NOT expecting it to be like 60K), and I'd love to hear what you thought now that it's over. Much love!