The Stilinski house was quiet, the early morning light streaming through the windows, painting the walls in warm gold. Camila sat at the kitchen table, nursing a mug of tea, her thoughts swirling. She had been living here for weeks now, and though she appreciated the constant support from Stiles and his dad, the house didn't feel like home—it felt like a refuge, a place to hide from the weight of her grief.
Stiles walked into the kitchen, his hair tousled from sleep. He yawned, grabbing a bowl of cereal before plopping into the seat across from her.
"Morning," he mumbled, spooning cereal into his mouth.
"Morning," she replied, her voice soft.
"You're up early," he said, studying her. "What's up? Another dream?"
She shook her head, her fingers tightening around the mug. "No dreams. Just… thinking."
"Dangerous," he teased, offering her a small smile.
She managed a faint laugh, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I've been thinking about Allison. About everything she sacrificed. I feel like I'm letting her down."
Stiles frowned, setting his spoon down. "Cami, you're not letting her down. She made her choice because she loved you. You're here because of her, and that's not something to feel guilty about."
Her throat tightened, and she looked away. "I know that, logically. But it doesn't make it any easier."
Stiles reached across the table, placing his hand over hers. "You're doing the best you can. That's all Allison would've wanted—for you to keep fighting. And for what it's worth, I think you're doing great."
The sincerity in his voice brought tears to her eyes, and she gave him a shaky smile. "Thanks, Stiles."
"Anytime," he said, his grin softening. "Now, finish your tea. We've got a big day of supernatural insanity ahead of us."
Later that afternoon, Camila and Stiles met up with Scott at the animal clinic. The three of them stood around the exam table, poring over a map Scott had spread out.
"We've got reports of strange activity near the woods by the high school," Scott said, tapping the map. "Something's out there, and it's not friendly."
"Of course it's not," Stiles said, leaning against the counter. "Because we live in Beacon Hills, where nothing is ever friendly."
Camila chuckled despite herself, her gaze shifting to Scott. "What are we looking for?"
Scott's brow furrowed. "I'm not sure yet, but it's been scaring the wildlife. Whatever it is, we need to stop it before someone gets hurt."
As they planned their approach, Camila couldn't help but notice the way Scott's expression softened whenever he looked at her. His concern was palpable, and it reminded her of how deeply he cared—for everyone, but especially for her.
"Cami," Scott said, pulling her from her thoughts. "Are you okay with this? If you're not ready—"
"I'm ready," she said firmly, cutting him off. "I need to do this."
He nodded, his eyes filled with quiet understanding. "Okay. Let's do it."
The woods were darker than usual, the dense canopy blocking out most of the sunlight. Camila walked between Scott and Stiles, her senses on high alert. The stillness of the forest was unnerving, and every snap of a twig made her heart race.
"Stay close," Scott said, his voice low.
Camila nodded, gripping the knife Chris had left her before he'd left town. She felt the weight of Allison's memory pressing on her, but instead of fear, it gave her strength.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," Stiles muttered, scanning the trees.
"You always have a bad feeling," Camila replied, her tone lighter than she felt.
"Yeah, and I'm usually right," he shot back, his voice tinged with nervousness.
Suddenly, a low growl echoed through the woods, stopping them in their tracks.
"Did anyone else hear that?" Stiles whispered.
Scott's eyes glowed amber as he nodded. "We're not alone."
The growl came again, closer this time. Camila's grip on her knife tightened as she turned to face the sound. A shadow moved between the trees, and a large, wolf-like creature emerged, its glowing red eyes locking onto them.
"An Omega," Scott said, stepping in front of Camila.
The creature lunged, and Scott shifted into his wolf form, meeting it head-on. The two clashed, snarls and growls filling the air.
"Stay back!" Stiles shouted, grabbing Camila's arm and pulling her behind a tree.
"I can help!" she argued, but Stiles shook his head.
"Not this time. Scott's got this."
The fight was brutal but brief. Scott managed to overpower the Omega, pinning it to the ground until it submitted. The creature whimpered before retreating into the woods, leaving the three of them alone again.
"You okay?" Scott asked, shifting back as he turned to Camila.
She nodded, though her heart was still racing. "Yeah. Thanks."
Scott's expression softened as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "You were brave out there. Allison would be proud."
Her breath caught at his words, and she managed a small smile. "Thanks, Scott."
As they headed back to the car, Camila found herself caught between the two boys who meant so much to her. Stiles, her constant source of comfort and humor. And Scott, her protector, her anchor in the storm.
Her heart ached with the weight of her feelings, but one thought lingered in her mind: what would Allison think?
For now, she pushed the question aside. There were more battles to fight, and she needed to stay focused.
The Stilinski house was quiet when Camila stepped inside. The familiar creak of the floorboards under her boots and the soft hum of the refrigerator should have been comforting, but tonight, they felt heavy—like a reminder of the weight she carried. Stiles trailed behind her, his usual energy subdued after their encounter with the Omega.
"You okay?" he asked, closing the door behind him.
She nodded, dropping her bag on the couch. "Yeah. Just tired."
Stiles gave her a small, uncertain smile. "Well, you survived another day in Beacon Hills. That's gotta count for something."
Camila managed a faint laugh. "Yeah. Another day."
They stood in silence for a moment before Stiles gestured toward the kitchen. "I'm gonna grab a snack. You want anything?"
"No, I'm good," she said, sinking onto the couch.
As Stiles disappeared into the kitchen, Camila leaned back, her thoughts swirling. The image of Scott standing over her after the fight, his hand on her shoulder, his words about Allison—"She'd be proud of you."—kept replaying in her mind.
She had always admired Scott's strength, his unwavering dedication to the people he cared about. But now, there was something more—something that terrified her.
Stiles returned a few moments later, a bag of chips in hand. He plopped down beside her, his knee brushing hers.
"You're really quiet tonight," he said, his tone light but probing. "What's going on in that head of yours?"
Camila hesitated, her eyes fixed on the coffee table. "I've just been thinking about Allison. About what she'd say if she were here."
Stiles nodded, his expression softening. "She'd probably say something super badass and inspiring, like, 'Get your head in the game, Camila.'"
Camila smiled faintly, her chest tightening. "Yeah, probably."
Stiles set the bag of chips aside, turning to face her. "Cami, you know she'd want you to be happy, right? She wouldn't want you to carry this guilt around forever."
"I know," she said softly. "It's just… hard."
"I get that," he said, his voice quieter now. "But you're not doing this alone. You've got me. You've got Scott. We're not going anywhere."
Her heart ached at his words, and she looked at him, her voice trembling. "You're always here for me, Stiles. I don't know how you do it."
He grinned, though it didn't reach his eyes. "What can I say? I'm a sucker for lost causes."
"You're not a lost cause," she said firmly, reaching out to take his hand.
The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through her, and for a moment, the world felt a little less heavy.
The next day, Camila found herself at the animal clinic, helping Scott clean up after a long day. It had become a routine of sorts—a quiet space where they could talk without the weight of their responsibilities pressing down on them.
Scott handed her a broom, his smile warm but tired. "Thanks for helping out."
"Anytime," she said, beginning to sweep.
They worked in silence for a while, the soft sounds of their movements filling the room. But Camila could feel Scott's eyes on her, could sense the unspoken thoughts lingering between them.
"Scott," she said finally, setting the broom aside. "What's on your mind?"
He hesitated, leaning against the counter. "I've just been thinking about everything. About Allison."
Her chest tightened. "Me too."
Scott looked at her, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and warmth. "I miss her every day. But… I think she'd want us to keep moving forward. To find happiness, even if it feels impossible."
Camila swallowed hard, her gaze dropping. "Do you think she'd hate me? For… for trying to move forward?"
"No," Scott said firmly, stepping closer. "Allison loved you, Cami. She'd want you to be happy. I know she would."
His words struck something deep within her, and when she looked up, their eyes met. The air between them felt charged, and for a moment, everything else faded away.
"Scott," she whispered, her voice trembling.
He hesitated, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. "Cami… I care about you. A lot. But I don't want to make things harder for you."
Her breath caught, her heart racing. "You're not making things harder. If anything, you make them easier."
The tension between them hung heavy, but before either of them could say anything else, the sound of the front door opening broke the moment.
"Scott?" Deaton's voice called.
Scott stepped back, his cheeks flushing. "We're back here," he called, his voice steady despite the tension in the air.
Camila turned away, her thoughts a tangled mess. As much as she cared for Stiles, her feelings for Scott were undeniable. And that terrified her.
That night, Camila lay awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her heart felt torn, the weight of her emotions pressing down on her like a tidal wave.
She thought of Allison—of her smile, her strength, her unwavering love for the people in her life. And she thought of what Allison would say if she could see her now.
You deserve to be happy, Cami.
The thought brought tears to her eyes, but it also gave her a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, she could find her way through the darkness.
And maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to love again.