Hey! I'm not entirely sure how far I'm gonna get in this chapter. Ideally, I'd love to complete this fic in this chapter, but you know how much I love writing about feelings!

And yes! A big climax at the damn tree. I say we just burn it down and rid ourselves of the damn thing. It only brings trouble!

Let's get this ish started!

Chapter 18

Revival

Thump.

Scott can feel the world stop in a single sound.

"What?" Peter's legs have healed and he's on his feet. His eyes burn a blood red and he sprints toward Scott. He's about to collide with Scott when a flash of metal swipes across his line of vision.

Peter stumbles back, his hand clamped over his abdomen where Kira had slashed him. "H-How?" He chokes, staring wildly at her. "How'd you get out of the Berserker's grip?"

Kira looks a little startled at it herself, moving closer to Scott as she looks around.

Actually, everyone's released from their holds, his pack choking as they gasp for air. But Peter had a point. The Berserkers stand on the outskirts of the field, waiting. Derek and Liam scramble to their feet, moving closer to Scott as well. Soon, the entire pack – including Malia, whose back finally healed – huddle together, watching the Berserkers carefully.

"What's happening," Peter says, looking around. "Attack them!" He shouts at the Berserkers, but they don't move. "Kill them!"

"They don't answer to you."

The voice is weak and strong at the same time, making Scott wince. They all turn and watch as Kate struggles to get to her feet. Her head sluggishly bleeds down her face and she favors her left side. "What?" Peter seethes, tearing his attention away from Scott toward Kate.

"They don't answer to you!" She shrieks, grabbing her arm and slamming the socket back into place. She flicks her fingers and the Berserkers tense and take a few steps forward. "They answer to me."

"And you answer to me!" Peter bellows, his eyes flashing red once more.

Kate winces and Scott can see the pull against Peter's command is strong. But when she finally lifts her head, her eyes are blazing green. "No, I don't." She seethes. "This was never a part of the plan. We were going to take down packs together. You were never supposed to be the Alpha."

"But I am." Peter demands, stepping closer to her. "I am the Alpha! I've always been the Alpha!"

"You are a Alpha." She snaps. "You are not my Alpha!"

With the proclamation, she charges at Peter, screaming as she does so. She tackles him – Scott guesses the only reason she got the jump on him was pure shock – and the two tumble to the ground. Kate pitches Peter off of her, swiping his shoulder as she does so. He cries out at the swipe, his eyes flashing.

As soon as the shock wears off, Peter growls. "You are mine, Kate. You are mine or you are nothing."

"What the hell is going on?" Derek asks, leaning into Scott.

"I think," Scott says, wincing as Peter buries his claws into Kate's leg. "the two of them are simultaneously destroying each other?"

Derek snorts. "This is why being a respected leader is so important. The Alpha pull is strong, but if you don't trust or respect your Alpha, you can pull away from them. I mean, you did the same for Peter. Erica and Boyd did the same to me."

Scott flinches when Peter swipes upward and catches a large chunk of her chest. "I don't remember doing that."

Derek shrugs. "You aren't as ruthless as Peter. That's why you're the True Alpha and he is about to die."

"Can we go home, then?" Malia asks. "I'm bored."

Kira pats her shoulder. "This is one of those times that we should keep quiet."

"I know this is all very interesting!" Lydia shouts from behind them all. "But we need help!"

Scott jerks out of the trance that is watching Peter and Kate rip each other apart and whirls around to see Lydia kneeling atop the Nemeton with her hands pressing against Stiles' chest. Scott sprints over to the tree, leaping onto the stump as he watches the blood seep through Lydia's fingers. "What the hell?"

Melissa points at her first aid kit and Lydia scrambles over to it. "Scott apply pressure where Lydia was."

Scott looks down and sees his brother's bare chest, the claw marks still open and bleeding. He can hear Stiles' sluggish heartbeat and it's the best sound he's ever heard in his life. "Mom, what's going on?"

Melissa glances up at her son and cries, "What's happening is that despite the fact that Stiles is miraculously alive again, he is also currently bleeding out because he's been bleeding for hours while being dead which is a sentence that makes no sense. And there are two supernatural creatures fighting to the death right over there, the victor probably wanting to murder you guys. What else do you need explaining?"

Lydia rushes over with the bag, handing her a syringe. Scott gapes. "What's that for?"

"Numbing and sedating." Melissa says, unlidding the syringe with her teeth.

"Numbing and sedating?" Scott repeats. "He's unconscious, how can—"

"Stiles, sweetie, you're going to be okay," Melissa talks over him, her eyes softening. "You're okay. You're alive and you're going to be fine. I'm just going to numb your chest so you can't feel what I'm about to do."

Scott's own eyes widen when he turns to see Stiles eyes half-lidded and distance. "Stiles!" Scott shouts, too confused and too elated to realize that Stiles is really back and this isn't some sort of dream. "Oh my God, oh my God!" He exclaims.

Melissa plunges the syringe into his skin and Stiles lets out a whimper. Scott has to close his eyes because the sound is so pained and heartbreaking. "W-Where's my dad?" Stiles whimpers, his gaze growing glassy.

Derek leans close to Stiles' head. "I convinced him to go with Chris Argent to get better weapons. I promised him we'd wait to confront Peter until he got back. I was hoping this would be over before he got here."

Stiles, as his lids drop further, stares at Derek for a long while. Scott thinks he's slipping unconscious, but then Stiles holds out his hand for Derek. Derek looks confused at it for a moment, and then takes it. "Thank you," Stiles manages before his eyes close altogether.

"Oh my God, what is happening!" Malia cries out, looking from Scott to Stiles to Peter.

"You guys better turn around because it looks like someone's going to be trying to kill you guys soon." Melissa says.

Derek tilts his head. "I kinda like it better this way. Bad guys ripping each other apart while we just… watch."

Scott stares at him, aghast. "You waited until now to get a sense of humor?"

Derek loses his opportunity to answer when Peter grabs Kate by the shoulder and launches her against a tree. The tree splinters up the side.

Kate makes a pitiful noise as she tries to get to her feet, but Peter kicks her back down. "Now, now Kate. I've killed you once." He clicks his tongue condescendingly.

She smiles back, her teeth covered in blood. "I've killed you."

Peter grins. "Best two out of three?" He jokes, raising his claws.

Right as he was about to claw down, someone shouts, "Peter Hale, stop!"

Scott feels like his head is about to explode by everything that's happening. "I thought that I was the person people wanted dead?" He cries.

Derek rolls his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. "It's no longer about you and you're getting uncomfortable?"

"I take it back, you're no longer allowed in my pack."

Derek just snorts. The asshole.

Chris Argent and Sheriff Stilinski emerge from the tree line, guns raised. "Peter, step away from my sister." Chris warns, his gun aimed at his head.

Peter turns his head, smiling. The shadows ghosts his face in a way that chills Scott. "Not this time, Argent." Peter says. "There's always a cost. Kate wasn't supposed to live. Balance is needed."

"Neither were you." Chris says, taking a few steps closer.

Peter only laughs. "The circle of life."

Without another word, Peter brings his hand down and tears across Kate's throat. Even Chris gasps as she slumps to the floor. Her eyes remain open, glassy and unseeing. The last female Argent leader empty on the ground.

"Is she really dead this time?" Malia asks as Kate's head hits the ground.

As if like a switch, the Berserkers lining the forest shatter. Their bones disintegrate and they collapse, reducing to nothing more than ash. "Yeah," Kira breathes. "I think she's really dead this time."

Chris stares where Kate lies. His eyes water and his gun shakes.

Peter turns to face everyone, Kate blood splatter across his face. His eyes glint in a manic sort of way that makes Scott uneasy. "All about going back to the balance." Peter laughs, stepping closer to Chris, crushing the skull of a Berserker under his foot. "Argents have been murdering Hales until the end of time. Don't you think it's time to end the last surviving member of the clan? No more Argents!" His laugh is high-pitched and Derek stills at Scott's side.

"He's lost it." Derek breathes.

But Chris isn't looking up. He isn't looking from where his sister lies dead on the ground.

"No more Argents!" He giggles, drawing closer. "You try and murder my family? Murder the Hales? I will end all of you!"

Peter sprints over to Chris, his hand raised. Right as he's about to take Chris down, a shot rings out.

Everything stops.

Peter's arms fall.

Then the rest of him does.

As his head hits the ground, it starts to bleed.

A shot between the eyes.

The Sheriff remains still, his gun poised at Peter Hale's body. His eyes squint at his lifeless remains. "That's for murdering my son, you goddamn son of a bitch." He states, a tear falling down his cheek.

Scott hears Derek suck in a breath next to him. He looks at the older man whose gaze is fixated on his Uncle. One of his only surviving family members. Derek's eyes are watering, but tears don't fall. His face twitches, like he's putting every ounce of energy into not crumbling. Scott reaches out and gently touches his arm. "It's okay to be sad." Scott murmurs quietly. "It's okay to mourn your family."

Tears fall.

"It's not looking like murder anymore, Sheriff!" Melissa calls from the Nemeton. Stiles' blood paints the stump, almost too much for any normal human to survive. Scott's heart rate picks up. "But if we want it to remain that way, we need to get to the hospital, now!"

Scott moves to get Stiles, but then he winces. "The bodies," he says softly, looking at Peter and Kate. We need to deal with the bodies."

"I'll do it." Chris says softly. "She was a terrible person, but she was my sister. I'll take care of Peter and Kate."

"I'll help." Derek pipes up, stepping closer to the last remaining Argent. "I understand, I'll help."

Chris nods.

A gentle rain starts to fall.

XXX

The party line is an animal attack.

Stiles finds out about this later. He secretly wished he'd found out earlier so that when someone asked him if he saw what kind of animal did this to him, his response was 'a monster who wore v-necks so low that if they plunged any deeper, he would no longer be suitable for children.' Granted, he was hopped up on so many pain killers, they didn't take him entirely seriously.

The hardest thing was dealing with the last year as a whole. Stiles couldn't really handle it, when the visiting hours were over and he was alone in the hospital by himself with the machines beeping and his thoughts. That was always a dangerous place for Stiles to be.

Alone.

With his thoughts.

Stiles sits by himself, the lights still on because the nurses are still on their rounds. He brings his knees up to his chest – it's very painful, but it curbs his panic attack that he knows is coming on. Claudia, even though she was released from Deaton's, wasn't allowed in the hospital. They claimed she was unsanitary and since she was there for panic attacks, they could monitor him on their own. He felt a little exposed without her. More alone than usual.

She was his rock in all of this and she's been gone for ages. He needed that stability back in a world that no longer seemed to make sense.

Stiles doesn't know where to go from here, to be honest. And while he's alone, he's allowed to descend himself into a spiral of panic.

Because he was a different person now. He wasn't the same Stiles that went to Mexico. His brain was all scrambled and confused and his ADHD wasn't helping him figure it out.

The Stiles that went to Mexico was gone. He was shoved in cage and changed forever. Tortured, lost his memory. He had a whole other life. He wore glasses and wore a prosthetic leg, for God's sake! And now? Now he has this perpetual buzzing in his bones and he can add dying to his list of things he never thought he'd do.

Tears are in his eyes and he's a little embarrassed, but he figures he's alone so that it's okay.

His head's so full and confused.

He sighs, bringing his forehead to his knees and wrapping his arms around them.

There's a light knocking on the door and Stiles looks up without thinking and forgets he has tear tracks down his cheeks. Melissa catches his eyes and she says softly, "Oh sweetie,"

Stiles quickly swipes at his cheeks, but he knows the damage is done. She walks into the room and places a hand on her shoulder. "I'm just going take your vitals and make sure everything fine."

"I'm fine." Stiles says, placing his head in his knees, but he offers an arm anyway. He winces when Melissa places her fingers on his wrist.

"You know, it's okay to not be fine. No one expects you to be." He hears from around his head.

"Everyone expects me to shatter. Like glass." Stiles mutters through his knees.

"If you did, people would understand."

"I know." Stiles sighs. "It'd be the worst."

After allowing himself to poked and prodded for a little while, Stiles hears Melissa step to the door. "Also, I brought you a present."

Stiles looks up at that, confused. Then, his father walks through the door, holding a paper bag of takeout with a large grin. Stiles wipes his eyes again. "That better include a veggie burger for you."

The Sheriff rolls his eyes. "Sounds like someone is feeling better. Thanks Melissa."

"Is this allowed?" Stiles asks. "Because visiting hours are over."

The Sheriff makes a face. "I'm the Sheriff of this town. I do what I want."

Stiles snorts and waves to Melissa as she leaves. Stiles stretches out his legs and the Sheriff puts the food on the bed. "Thanks for coming, Dad."

The Sheriff lets out a sigh of contentment and pulls the chair next to Stiles' head, plopping down. Stiles frowns. "What's that noise all about?"

The Sheriff smiles and grabs Stiles' wrist. "I have been waiting for such a long time for you to call me 'Dad.'" He says, a sad smile on his face. "And then I thought I'd never hear you again. So excuse me if I get a little sentimental when you call me 'Dad.'"

Stiles thinks about that for a moment and it makes his eyes misty, but he pretends his Dad doesn't see.

The two eat in a comfortable silence for a little while, until finally Stiles goes a little stir crazy and sets his food down. "I don't know where to go from here." He says, setting his food aside.

The Sheriff hesitates mid-bite and then sets it down. "What do you mean?"

Stiles takes a breath. "I saw mom." He starts and the Sheriff sucks in a breath. "And I spent the past year as a different person. I don't know what to do with any of this, Dad."

The Sheriff's hands shake. "You saw your mother?"

Stiles nods. "I died, Dad." He says, unable to stop himself from saying 'Dad' now. "And my name was 'Stuart' for months. I lived in a cage for a while. Peter Hale tortured me. And, even though he's dead, I still feel like he won."

The Sheriff takes Stiles' hand and squeezes. "Stiles, Peter Hale is gone. And he is in the ground. Why would you think he won?"

Stiles' chin trembles. "I killed Gerard."

"Stiles, that wasn't—"

"I killed him." Stiles states. "With the Nogitsune—" Stiles stops. He's shaking now and he can hear his heart rate picking up if the insane beeping was any indication. "T-The only reason I got through that was because people wouldn't… they wouldn't shut up about how it… it wasn't me. That's what everyone always says it wasn't you, it wasn't you."

"It wasn't you, Stiles."

"This was." Stiles says, a tear falling down his check. "This was me. I killed Gerard. My hands. No Nogitsune to blame."

"Peter manipulated you." The Sheriff states, his eyes fierce. "He tortured you and he manipulated you. You reacted in self-defense."

"I'm tired of people manipulating me!" Stiles snaps. "And he won because I killed someone."

"Gerard was a murderer."

"So am I."

"Stiles, there is a difference between killing and murdering." The Sheriff states. "Trust me. I see it all the time. Stiles, I have killed. But I have never murdered." The Sheriff leans close to his son, who's trying to avoid his eyes. "Stiles, Gerard would've killed everyone there. You saved all our lives."

Stiles refused his father's gaze. Tears impeded his vision and he shook his head. "I murdered someone."

"Killed, Stiles. Killed." The Sheriff sighs, leaning back in his chair.

"I think I need to talk to someone. About all this. Because I think that if I don't, if I don't somehow find a way to deal…" Stiles says quietly, shutting his eyes. "I feel lost, still. Alone."

Stiles can tell that his father's trying not to cry. It's an expression Stiles knows well and hates even more. His voice is small. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"No, no, no," the Sheriff says, getting out of his chair and hovering over Stiles' bed. Stiles gets a little overwhelmed by the space and screws his eyes shut and puts his hand over his face. The Sheriff takes off his coat and climbs onto the bed and wraps his arms around Stiles.

And for a moment, he feels safe.

It's not often he feels safe, but he feels safe now. He grips his father's arms and presses his face against his chest. "I got you, son," the Sheriff whispers in his ear. "I got you."

It becomes a mantra until Stiles falls asleep and it's first sleep unmedicated since he arrived at the hospital.

"I got you. I got you."

XXX

She walks past the door three times before Melissa McCall stops in the middle of her rounds with a chuckle. "Just go in, sweetie." Melissa says, nudging Lydia's shoulder. "Just rip the band aid off."

Lydia looks through the window where Stiles sits, slamming his head against the pillow in what looks like annoyance. Scott's sitting off to the side, his face looking like it does whenever he's trying to calm someone down. "I'm not sure if this is the right time." Lydia says, gesturing at the boys. "They're clearly talking about something important."

Melissa laughs. "Actually, Stiles is going stir crazy in the hospital and Scott is trying to convince him that leaving the hospital two days early could actually kill him."

"And to think that they are two of the most powerful people in the area, it's really terrifying."

The two women look up to see Chris Argent approaching them with a smile. "What are you doing here?" Melissa asks.

Chris gestures vaguely at Stiles. "The Sheriff came to me, saying how Stiles was struggling with Gerard's death. He wondered if I could come by and talk to him."

Stiles smacks Scott upside the head and Scott nearly topples over. Chris chuckles. "They are a tag team – a terrifying tag team – and they're complete idiots."

"No arguing that," Melissa states. "But what do you mean?"

Chris nods at the boys, who are now erupted in a fit of laughter. "Scott is a True Alpha. Stiles is his second-in-command emissary as one of the few people who can harness the Spark. I know you kids made Beacon Hills a beacon again when you did the Nemeton stuff, but now you have a pack with a reputation for not losing with a True Alpha and a Spark Emissary. People are going to take notice. It may draw people here even more now."

Stiles punches Scott's leg and Scott pretends to bite Stiles' shoulder.

Chris rolls his eyes. "Terrifying, isn't it."

Melissa snorts. "It really is." She claps Chris on the shoulder. "But you'll have to get in line. Because this young lady has a really important discussion to have with Stiles. You can talk to him after that."

"No, no, no," Lydia insists. "His sounds so much more important than mine. I should come back another—"

"Nice try," Melissa says, grabbing her arm. "Lydia, honey, listen to me. Stiles died. He died and no longer was a part of this world. And you spent several excruciating hours thinking that he died not knowing how you felt."

Lydia shakes her head. "But nothing's killing him now! What are the chances that he'll die within the next day?"

"In this town? Very high." Melissa states. "So Mr. Argent and I are going to get some coffee because it's almost my break and I need some adult conversation. Adult conversation that doesn't involve terrifying monsters that I wished desperately weren't real. And you are going to go in there, kick Scott out, and talk to him. Not just for Stiles, but for you."

Lydia knows logically that she's right. She never wants to feel like she did a few days ago. But at the same time, the idea of talking through all of this with Stiles makes her a little ill. But Melissa and Chris walk off, chattering casually about who knows what (probably how the world is going to end since Stiles and Scott have tag-teamed), leaving her with a door.

Stiles looks up from where he's attempted to get Scott in a headlock, as much as one can in a hospital bed, and catches her eye. With a bright smile, he lets Scott go and waves her in and she knows there's no turning back now. With a preparation breath, she enters the room and sees that Scott is still laughing over whatever they were talking about. He's even wiping tears from his eyes. Lydia wonders if he's just so happy that Stiles is alive and making jokes, that the jokes don't necessarily matter.

"Hey guys," Lydia says tentatively. "What's so funny?"

Scott stands out of the chair and offers it to Lydia. He's so gentlemanly, it's annoying. She sits down with a smile. "Just… Stiles being Stiles."

She supposes that is a cause for celebration, considering. But she looks at Scott and widens her eyes and he nods. "Actually, I promised my mom I would drop off something and then Kira and I have a date." He says calmly and Stiles rolls his eyes. "Don't forget to call Danny. He says as soon as you're willing and capable, he requests you as a wingman at The Jungle? Something you want to tell me, dude?"

Stiles waves his hand casually. "Don't be so narrow-minded, bro. Danny needs to get some and we bonded. I could do worse than Danny's wingman."

Scott rolls his eyes. "Whatever you say. Call me if you need anything."

"Of course."

Scott hesitates at the door, but turns around quickly, catching Stiles in a tight embrace. Stiles makes a little noise, but wraps his hands around Scott after the shock wears off. "Dude, you're gonna choke me."

Scott laughs and walks out.

Stiles ruffles his hair. "He's taken to squeezing the living daylights out of me every time he leaves the room. Not good for my lung capacity."

Lydia smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "He thought you died." She says softly. "We all did."

Stiles looks at his hands. "I know."

Lydia scoots her chair closer to his bed and opens her mouth a few times, but can't seem to find the right words. Instead, she rambles out, "You're an idiot if you think leaving the hospital before you're ready will help anything."

Surprised, Stiles blinks a few times and then makes a sour face. "I see you've been talking with Melissa."

"It would be annoying if you die after I dragged your dead body to the Nemeton."

Stiles grows quiet at that. He grips the sheet of his hospital bed, his hands shaking. "I've been wanting to thank you. For that."

Without thinking, Lydia reaches out and grabs his trembling hands. "It's nothing."

"It wasn't nothing." Stiles murmurs. "It was smart."

Lydia stares at him at those words. It sends a shiver down her spine as she recalls the last time he told her she was smart, gasping for air in the middle of the boy's locker room. "It seems you have a tendency to bring it out in me."

"I have the tendency to bring out the best in you?" Stiles says, surprised. "Please write to Isaac and tell him exactly that. And then tell him his French ass can suck it."

Lydia didn't realize that Stiles was still in contact with Isaac, but she supposes she shouldn't be surprised. Being friends with Stiles was sort of like the Marines. Once you're in, you're in. You either have to die or betray someone to get out. Even if she wasn't sure if she could call Stiles and Isaac's weird antagonistic relationship a 'friendship.'

"I need to talk to you about something," Lydia says and Stiles instantly quiets.

She surveys him and realizes that he's wincing. Like, actually cowering, waiting for her words. She isn't entirely sure why he was flinching or what he could've possibly expected her to say. So she decides to simply rip the band aid off. "Stiles, you need to know."

"No." Stiles shakes his head, refusing to look at her.

Lydia, still confused, presses on, "You need to know that I love you, you idiot."

Stiles sighs, removing his hand from hers. Tears dot his eyes and he snaps, "No."

"What do you mean, 'no?'" Lydia demands, too shocked to realize how much his words hurt.

Stiles finally catches her gaze and he says, "I said no. I don't want to hear bullshit like that. Not now when I'm feeling particularly generous since you decided to drag my body to the Nemeton."

"Bullshit?" Lydia repeats. "It's bullshit that I love you?"

"No," Stiles says through gritted teeth. "It's bullshit that you're saying it."

Lydia's eyes flash. "You better start explaining yourself very carefully, Stilinski. I'd hate to save your life and then kill you in the same week."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Whatever Lydia," he mutters. "I died. I died and that was horrible. And the last conversation was me asking you if you were being honest that you loved me. And you felt guilty for saying you didn't—"

"I never said I didn't," Lydia presses, but Stiles waves her comments aside.

"Silence is probably the best answer anyone could ask for. And I'm tired of being everyone's second place. I don't want to be a back-up plan or a person simply because you feel guilty. God, I can't keep on having this conversation with people." Stiles scrubs his hand down his face. "I've realized that if I'm your second place, I don't want it. It took me a while to understand, because for the longest time I thought I'd be okay with second. Third or fourth, even. But I can't handle it.

"I can't handle you to get my heart started again just to break it."

When Lydia started crying, she wasn't sure. Here it is again. An out. An out for this… whatever it is. An out for her vulnerability. An out so she wouldn't have the chance to get hurt again.

So she can protect herself.

Lydia takes a breath. "You're right," she says softly, wiping her eyes. "You deserve to be someone's first."

Stiles nods. "Yeah, I do."

Taking a breath, Lydia closes the small space between them and catches his lips with hers. It's a simple kiss. Soft, gentle, and makes her stomach go twisty to the point where she's terrified. She pulls away, putting her forehead against hers. "You're my first," she whispers.

Stiles shuts his eyes, still refusing to look at her. "Lydia, I—"

"You're my first choice," she repeats. "You've been my first choice for a while. But I thought…" She takes his head in her hands and wipes away the few tears that have escaped. "I thought I only deserved second-choices. It never really occurred to me that I might deserve my first."

Stiles finally looks at her, searching. Searching for any ounce of falsehood. Doubt. Lydia knows he'll find none. "If you just feel bad—"

"I don't," she says firmly. "I think I deserve you. And you deserve me too."

"I won't recover if this is just a game."

Lydia smiles softly. "I think we've all have enough games to last us a lifetime."

Stiles laughs and leans his head on her shoulder. She intertwines her fingers with his and thinks that, even if this moment is fleeting and small, she felt content.

In this moment, they were all okay.

XXX

Claudia yips a few times, running around their ankles.

Stiles grins at her, unable to handle the humor of her head stuck in the 'cone of shame.' She hasn't quite forgiven him for making her wear it, but Stiles is just happy she's running around. Scott claps his hand on Stiles shoulder, grinning broadly. "Ready?"

Stiles grabs the lacrosse stick out of the back of his Jeep. "Excuse me, you were supposed to help me do this ages ago. Are you ready?"

Scott laughs. "I've been a little busy."

"Yeah, me too," Stiles says sheepishly. Scott runs to the goal, twirling his lacrosse stick in his hands. "Okay, I'm determined to start one game this season. I only get to play if someone gets murdered or almost murdered. I would like to be on the field for once in my life because I deserved it. Not because someone was dying."

Scott hits the sides of the goal. "Noble goal." He grins. "Hey, Kira wanted me to ask you if you and Lydia wanted to double date this Friday?"

Stiles can't help the warmth that spreads through him when Scott referred to he and Lydia together. He shakes his head. He's still getting used to that. "Yeah! Let's do something normal for once!" Stiles says, fist-pumping in the air. "Except no bowling. Or ice skating. Or no creepy student concerts."

"How about dinner and a movie?"

Stiles smiles. "Sounds just boring and normal enough to be awesome." Scott nods. "Hey, did I tell you? I got into Berkley."

Scott's eyes widen. "Dude, seriously?"

"Yeah, the letter came in the mail when I was in the hospital. I completely forgot about all this college stuff – with everything that's happened."

"Dude, I think that's fair." Scott smiles. "That makes how many schools? Stanford, Berkley, NYU, Colombia, and Princeton? Holy shit, that's awesome. Your dad must be freaking out. What are you going to do?"

Stiles sighs. "I don't know. But I do know it'll be either Stanford or Berkley."

Scott frowns. "Stiles, you don't—"

"I want to, Scott." Stiles insists. "It's not me being a martyr or anything. I don't think I could handle being across the country from you guys. It's for me. I want to stay in California."

Scott beams at that. "Well, if you insist. And if we're talking about future goals, I got into California State."

Stiles grips his lacrosse stick. "What? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I forgot, okay? I've been distracted recently." Scott laughs.

"Fair enough." Stiles says. "Wow, we're really doing it. We're going to college."

Scott lifts an eyebrow. "You're surprised?"

"Of course I'm surprised, Scotty! I didn't think we'd make it out of high school alive!"

"I guess that makes sense." Scott laughs. "Okay, less talking, more lacrosse!"

Stiles grins, picking the ball up. "Ready?"

Scott puts a hand up. "Okay, I know you've been training with Deaton. You can't use any of your newfound emissary powers, alright? It's better to practice like a normal person because that's how you have to play in the game."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Alright." He lifts his stick over his head.

"Seriously!" Scott cries out, putting his hand up. "No emissary powers!"

"Dude, I'm gonna throw it at your head."

"Okay…"

Stiles smiles to himself, feeling his eyes blaze silver.

From across the campus, Coach spills his coffee down his shirt when he's startled by the exclamation,

"I SAID NO EMISSARY POWERS!"

The End.

A/N: OH MY GLOB.

When I started this, did I think I would be writing a 80K+ fic? NO. I thought it'd be around 30-40K. But oh how the tables have tabled. I always thought it'd be funny if two bad guys simultaneously destroyed themselves and everyone else is just like, 'lol… wut?' And I always wanted to end it with the REAL relationship of the show: Scott and Stiles. They are incredible and my love for them is fierce.

I really hope you enjoyed this story. Like I said, I think this is my last novel-length fic for the present time. But I am open to prompts and stuff, mainly because I don't have any ideas at the moment. I'd be happy to write one-shots if the right idea came along. My tumblr is:

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Please leave a note or review about what you thought of this tale! I treasure them all and I really appreciate your support. You all are lovely, lovely people. Much love!