Okay! So I didn't want to load down the last chapter with me going on through my thought process, but I figure now's a good time. So, I always wanted Stiles to ultimately defeat the Nogitsune. I mean, I guess he sorta did because he realized the only way to not lose was ultimately refuse to play, but I thought it'd be much more psychological than that.
As for this chapter – I won't spoil it – but this is what I thought they were planning to do with a certain character. I was genuinely surprised when it didn't happen. You'll probably understand when it gets to the moment, but I was 100% convinced this little thing was gonna happen. Then it didn't. Huh.
Chapter 18
The End and the Beginning
He doesn't know how long they stayed on the ground, simply listening to his still chest.
Scott kept thinking in another second, it'll start again. But the seconds add up, until they threaten to tip over and spill a horrible truth on all of them.
Stiles is taken out of his arms and Scott's eyes flash red unwillingly, and his body tenses like he's about to fight whoever's done so. But when he sees the Sheriff grab his son and delicately place his head on his lap, the instinct drops away and only leaves shattered emotions. The Sheriff's eyes are filled with tears and his entire face is red like he's been drinking. His hand hovers above Stiles' head, his fingers shaking and hesitating. After a few moments, he drops them to his son's forehead, running his hand through his hair like Scott had seen him do whenever Stiles was sick, whispers of comfort quaking from his lips.
"It'll be okay Stiles, your Dad's here. You're not alone."
What made it worse is knowing that Stiles couldn't hear him and never would. That his last moments were alone in a tub, surrounded by nothing but a void.
No one had the heart to stop the Sheriff. It seemed like too intimate of a moment to witness, but too heartbreaking to leave the Sheriff by himself. He continue to run his fingers through Stiles' hair, a few of his tears falling to his son's cheeks. "I'm here, son.
"I'm here."
The Sheriff doesn't know a lot, he's learned. He doesn't know the possibilities of the universe, especially now that werewolves and Japanese spirits exist. He doesn't know whether his actions are right or wrong half the time and he definitely doesn't know what he's going to do next. But there is one thing he's absolutely certain of.
No parent should have to bury their child.
He never wished to. Sure, he wasn't present for the death of his wife and he told himself if the world wanted to play a cruel joke on him and killed his boy first, he intended to be there. At least he was able to accomplish that.
His hands kept running through his son's hair and he was struck by how cold he was. Logically he knew that it must be the water, but he wants nothing more than to wrap him in something to warm him up. It's like someone's speeding up his death, forcing him to acknowledge that Stiles has, has… died and that's the last thing he wants. He wants to warm him up and pretend that he still has family left in this world.
The Sheriff composes himself – well, even that's a stretch because he simply waits for his choking to subside so he can speak without sobbing. He sucks in a breath, never taking his eyes off of his son. "I'm sorry," he begins and no one can fathom what he has to be sorry for. "I understand… t-this…" It takes him several tries simply to get words out. "…is hard… for everyone. But…" The Sheriff squeezes his eyes shut, his fingers curling around the collar of Stiles' shirt. "I need some t-time… w-with my son. A-Alone."
Scott understands it. He really does.
It doesn't prevent his chest from hurting.
Everyone slowly gets to their feet. Scott notices a few people sway and stumble – himself included. Just one last time, he needs to feel his best friend, before he leaves and this becomes infinitely more real. Scott bites his lip, trying to prevent the sobs threatening to escape. He places his hand on his best friend's shoulder, Stiles' body cold beneath his. "I-I—" Scott starts, but he's not sure what to say. "I'm so sorry."
Whether that's directed toward the Sheriff or Stiles, even Scott isn't sure.
But Scott can't bring himself to take his hand off of Stiles' shoulder. He knows he needs to and he knows he's being selfish. But he simply cannot.
He knows that everyone's afraid to make him move, but everyone knows he should. With a bout of courage Scott's surprised by, Kira steps forward, her hand hesitant. But then she puts it atop his her fingers brushing against the folds of Stiles' shirt.
Thump.
Somebody screams.
Scott leaps back, his eyes wide as he stares at Kira. She's staring at her hand in shock – just moments before her fingertips had a dim, yellow glow. "What did you do?" The Sheriff shouted, almost jostling Stiles out of his lap.
"I-I don't know!" She cried, still staring at her hands. "I-I just touched him! I don't know what I did!"
"Do it again!" Scott cries, making Kira jump.
She looks positively stricken. "W-What? I-I can't! What if I do something wrong or—"
"Sweetie, he can't get any more dead!" Lydia shrieks, her voice quaking.
It's a horrible thing to say. But everyone was thinking it.
Kira brings her hands out, hovering over Stiles chest. With a wince, she brings them down and his entire body simply flails.
Scott's eyes widen – every emotion that crushed him moments before freezing. "Oh my God – what are you?"
Kira squeaks, "I don't know!"
"Does it even matter?" Lydia snaps. "Do it again."
This time when she does, it's forceful. Stiles' chest arcs up and then there's a skittering of a heartbeat. Then an intake of breath.
Stiles' eyes snap open. He barely chokes out, "Holy shit, I need to stop dying!"
XXX
Scott waits outside Stiles' room. Literally. He's sitting on the floor. He tries to block out everything that the Sheriff is say – honestly, it's not much. Mainly he's crying and Stiles is trying to choke out an apology or affection or something to calm him down, which only spurs on more. But Scott is mainly focusing on the fact that his best friend is saying anything at all.
Sometimes that's all you can do. Focus on small things to keep yourself from falling apart.
When the Sheriff finally leaves the room, he looks entirely unsurprised to see Scott on the floor. Scott leaps to his feet. The Sheriff even gives a smile, but grows serious within moments. "He's alive." He manages, tears still present in his eyes.
"He's alive," Scott echoes, finally saying the words out loud that so desperately needed to be true. "Oh my God," he breathes.
"Oh my God is right," the Sheriff says before pulling Scott into a bone-breaking hug. "I am so glad that you are in my life."
Scott pulls away, confused. "Huh?"
The Sheriff smiles. "I just thought you needed to hear that. I can see it on your face – the guilt. You think if you were never bitten, these life or death situations wouldn't happen. But I need you to be aware of a few things. One, Stiles would get himself in these situations regardless. You know my son. I know my son. It would simply happen. Two, the fact that Stiles has you in his life gives me an endless amount of joy. Not only because I know that Stiles has someone who will always have his back and protect him, but because that means that my family got bigger. I know you're not my child, but you've always been like a son to me. So I need you to know, before you drown yourself in guilt, how much you matter.
Scott simply stares at the Sheriff for a moment. Then he lunges into a hug equally as painful as the one he received, but he doesn't let go for a while. "Thank you," he whispers in the Sheriff's ear.
It's different being hugged by a 'Dad.' Sure, Scott loves his mother's hugs. They're simply the best. But when the Sheriff hugs him, he feels small. He feels protected. He feels that – for a moment – everything's okay.
They part, the Sheriff giving him an encouraging smile before Scott enters Stiles' room.
In short, he looks terrible.
But then again, he looks alive.
Stiles sits in his bed, his eyes shifting nervously around, deep circles cushioning his eyes. He looks too emaciated to function properly, but when he catches Scott's eye, he grins. "Scotty, buddy!" He exclaims too weakly for Scott's comfort.
Scott ignores the temptation to rush to his friend and hug him, but then he tells himself that wouldn't be the smartest idea. Instead, he pulls a chair next to Stiles' head and Stiles places a weak hand on his shoulder.
Scott doesn't know what to say. Which is weird, because he always is comfortable around Stiles. But Stiles died. And he doesn't know what to do with that. He knows he should be happy, but he's mainly just tired. And afraid if he closes his eyes, Stiles will disappear again.
"It's okay, Scott," Stiles says after a moment. Of course he picks up on Scott's hesitation. Stiles doesn't need werewolf skills when it comes to Scott. "I'm here and I'm fine."
Scott snorts at that one.
"Well, maybe 'fine' isn't the right way of putting it," Stiles grins sheepishly. "Under construction? No – under repair – that fits much better."
"Stiles, you died." Scott blurts out, unable to stop himself. "You, like, died."
"I know."
"Died. Like, dead."
"I know."
"How are you so calm?" Scott shouts, feeling bad as soon as he does so. "Sorry, I-I just… shit!"
"Always one with the words – Scott McCall, ladies and gentlemen." Stiles chuckles, but sobers when Scott looks at him. "Scott, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. No hesitation."
"What the hell?" Scott snaps. "You'd just die – just like that? No big deal?"
"Scott," Stiles says seriously. "He was in my head. I knew what he was going to do, if he gained total control. He was going to kill Allison first. Allison, Scott!"
Scott pales, his hands gripping the sides of Stiles bed.
Stiles shakes his head. "I tried as much as I could. I just couldn't – everything was so messed up… ug!" He groans, throwing his hands up in the air. "Look, I'm sorry. The last thing I want to do is upset you, but if I had to do it again, I would push the tub. I would close that door. Maybe that's selfish," he shrugs. "But I don't care. Living a life when someone else is in control is not living, Scott. Especially if I ended up hurting people – or killing people? I wouldn't survive that. I just… wouldn't."
Fuck cautious.
Scott leans forward and gives Stiles a gentle hug, concerned with all the wires and tubes. He simply has to. Stiles is there and alive. Everyone is safe.
"I know, buddy," Stiles says quietly when Scott refuses to let go. "I know."
Scott doesn't need to say anything. Because it's Stiles and he already knows. He knows what his death would do. He knows the sacrifice he made on everyone's behalf. He knows that Scott wouldn't have survived. That his father wouldn't have. Maybe more. Because he's important. And Scott can't do anything now but be grateful.
And is he greatful.
After a few moments, Scott returns to his seat, indiscreetly wiping the tears from his eyes. "So, what's the prognosis?"
"Mysterious illnesses that can't quite be explained," Stiles laughs, settling back into the hospital bed. "Which sucks because you know how much I love hospitals – about as much as I love Peter Hale, but whatever." Stiles shrugs, but it doesn't match his eyes. Scott knows how much he hates being here. But at this point? Scott won't let his friend leave until there is a 500% clean bill of health. He's sure the Sheriff feels the same. "But they diagnosed me with hypothermia, anxiety, dehydration, and borderline anorexia – mainly because I can't properly explain why I've lost so much weight in such a short amount of time." He gestures at his skeletal frame. "How am I ever going to attract the ladies like this?"
"Really, Stiles?" Scott laughs.
Stiles purses his lips. "You're right. My dazzling personality. Works every time."
"Stiles," Scott says, arching an eyebrow. But he doesn't really want it to stop. Because he best friend is alive. He really is.
Epilogue
As it turns out, recovering from a Nogitsune possession isn't quite as simple as one would hope. Scott knows that Stiles tries to pretend everything is alright, but has nightmares. Panic attacks. Anxiety – particularly around Allison since he knew the exact move that would make her take a final breath.
They try and spread light wherever they can, simply to extract the darkness. Sometimes it works.
Other times it doesn't.
One day, they all met together for movies and Stiles went on a rant of how no one knows how to figure things out (obviously the endgame was at Deaton's – he gave them plenty of hints!). But everyone knew he was simply trying to convince the pack he wasn't a monster.
(He's not. They know that. He doesn't.)
But he's getting better. He sleeps more now, makes more jokes. But every once and a while his gaze grows distant or he stops talking. Scott knows he's lost in that tub and has to remind him that he's free. (Stiles avoids the school pool. He even has a written consent to get out of any aquatic activities.)
But there's really only one thing that matters: they're all alive. Sure, Stiles may need a little help, but it's okay. He may need to be pulled from the tub or held in his sleep. But he's here. He's alive.
And that's enough.
That's real.
THE END.
A/N: HOLY CRAP. I can actually put 'Complete' on this story. Thank you so much for putting up with me until those last two words! I genuinely thought that was the point of Kira's thunder kitsune – I thought she was going to bring Stiles back to life! (Light (thunder) vs. Dark (nogitsune) and then Stiles defeats himself and Kira's like, "LOL YOU CAN'T DIE YOU ANGEL) I was genuinely surprised when it didn't happen.
But thank you so much for reading this story! If you have time, please leave a note for what you thought! I know I mentioned potentially doing a sequel a few chapters back, but I already sorta started it with canon compliance – it's 'Take Back This Soul That is So Rightfully Mine.' But I hope you enjoyed this story! So much love!