Fic: TW, "Dark Waters"
A/N: Written after/spoilers through “The Overlooked” (3x10). AU futurefic based on that crazy season 3 promo, and on the prompt “echoes” off the FFN Writers Unite FB group. ~640 words; contains angst, Scallison, and character death.
And no, I don’t think this is particularly likely. I do think it makes a weird kind of sense, and I do think I had a good time writing it, and that’s what counts. :)
Dark Waters
Even with the alphas neutralized, the danger remains.
After all, he knows Druids; he did the research. They’re known to be shapeshifters. It shouldn’t surprise him, then, what he sees down by the lake, but it does.
Two Scotts. One of them his best friend. The other one Ms. Blake, wearing Scott’s appearance, presumably to keep both Deucalion and Scott’s friends from trying to kill her. He can’t hope to tell the difference, especially from this distance, until one of them grabs the other and shoves him underwater, and Stiles knows.
Whatever they’ve been through, Stiles knows Scott McCall. It’s all too clear which one’s which, now, and Stiles feels his breath catch for a moment.
“Scott!” he yells in panic. Suddenly, Lydia’s voice is echoing in his head - “how long can a werewolf stay underwater?”
He should have looked it up after that. Why hadn’t he looked it up after that?
Frantic, he runs to the shoreline, to Scott.
He’s only in time to watch from a distance as Scott, the real Scott, goes still.
And then part of him is glad he’s still a ways off, when a wolf tears out of the woods by the lake and makes for the Scott who’s still standing.
“Talia?” Scott - no, Ms. Blake - says, confused. Stiles realizes she, like him, isn’t sure how Talia survived the fire, but it doesn’t matter, because Talia can probably smell the difference between her and Scott, Talia had the element of surprise, and Talia has already pounced.
The other Scott goes down under the wolf’s teeth and claws and righteous anger. Ms. Blake, Julia, the Darach, he reminds himself, over and over, but it’s still hard to watch.
How many times now had Derek threatened to tear Stiles’s throat out with his teeth? He now knows all too well what that would look - and smell - like.
The scent of blood is pungent, and he feels kind of sick and vaguely lightheaded, but moves closer in time to see Scott (not Scott) turn into Ms. Blake, and then into scarred, dead Julia.
It’s safe now, he knows - Talia won’t hurt him, and Julia can’t. As Talia backs off, dragging the body with her, Stiles bolts across the remaining distance, and he can hear footfalls behind him as Allison does the same.
Scott still hasn’t moved, unconscious at best; they yell his name anyway.
Stiles finally reaches the shore, Allison on his heels, and together they haul Scott out of the water. Even to their human senses, it’s clear he’s not breathing.
“Oh god, oh god,” Allison murmurs, looking shell-shocked. She starts chest compressions in time to the frantic pleas and hopes and fears and prayers rambling out of her mouth, directed at Scott and God and no one in particular, and Stiles doubts she’s fully aware that she’s even speaking.
Meanwhile, all he can think about is a conversation he once had with the guidance counselor about drowning. How he’d heard it hurt like hell.
If you’re going through hell, she’d said, keep going.
“C’mon, Scotty,” he whispers now, “keep going.” He swallows around a sudden lump in his throat. “Wake up. Please. Please don’t die. I can’t lose anyone else.”
A few of Allison’s breaths later and Scott comes awake, rolling over onto his side and coughing copious amounts of lake water.
Stiles is weak with relief. He and Allison give Scott a minute to breathe, and then Allison’s lips are back on Scott’s for an entirely different reason than before.
Stiles resists his automatic impulse to roll his eyes at the pair of them. “It’s okay,” he says instead. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” No one bothers to respond; he’s trying to convince himself more than Scott, and they all know it.
“It’s over,” he adds. For now. And for now, that’s enough.
And no, I don’t think this is particularly likely. I do think it makes a weird kind of sense, and I do think I had a good time writing it, and that’s what counts. :)
Dark Waters
Even with the alphas neutralized, the danger remains.
After all, he knows Druids; he did the research. They’re known to be shapeshifters. It shouldn’t surprise him, then, what he sees down by the lake, but it does.
Two Scotts. One of them his best friend. The other one Ms. Blake, wearing Scott’s appearance, presumably to keep both Deucalion and Scott’s friends from trying to kill her. He can’t hope to tell the difference, especially from this distance, until one of them grabs the other and shoves him underwater, and Stiles knows.
Whatever they’ve been through, Stiles knows Scott McCall. It’s all too clear which one’s which, now, and Stiles feels his breath catch for a moment.
“Scott!” he yells in panic. Suddenly, Lydia’s voice is echoing in his head - “how long can a werewolf stay underwater?”
He should have looked it up after that. Why hadn’t he looked it up after that?
Frantic, he runs to the shoreline, to Scott.
He’s only in time to watch from a distance as Scott, the real Scott, goes still.
And then part of him is glad he’s still a ways off, when a wolf tears out of the woods by the lake and makes for the Scott who’s still standing.
“Talia?” Scott - no, Ms. Blake - says, confused. Stiles realizes she, like him, isn’t sure how Talia survived the fire, but it doesn’t matter, because Talia can probably smell the difference between her and Scott, Talia had the element of surprise, and Talia has already pounced.
The other Scott goes down under the wolf’s teeth and claws and righteous anger. Ms. Blake, Julia, the Darach, he reminds himself, over and over, but it’s still hard to watch.
How many times now had Derek threatened to tear Stiles’s throat out with his teeth? He now knows all too well what that would look - and smell - like.
The scent of blood is pungent, and he feels kind of sick and vaguely lightheaded, but moves closer in time to see Scott (not Scott) turn into Ms. Blake, and then into scarred, dead Julia.
It’s safe now, he knows - Talia won’t hurt him, and Julia can’t. As Talia backs off, dragging the body with her, Stiles bolts across the remaining distance, and he can hear footfalls behind him as Allison does the same.
Scott still hasn’t moved, unconscious at best; they yell his name anyway.
Stiles finally reaches the shore, Allison on his heels, and together they haul Scott out of the water. Even to their human senses, it’s clear he’s not breathing.
“Oh god, oh god,” Allison murmurs, looking shell-shocked. She starts chest compressions in time to the frantic pleas and hopes and fears and prayers rambling out of her mouth, directed at Scott and God and no one in particular, and Stiles doubts she’s fully aware that she’s even speaking.
Meanwhile, all he can think about is a conversation he once had with the guidance counselor about drowning. How he’d heard it hurt like hell.
If you’re going through hell, she’d said, keep going.
“C’mon, Scotty,” he whispers now, “keep going.” He swallows around a sudden lump in his throat. “Wake up. Please. Please don’t die. I can’t lose anyone else.”
A few of Allison’s breaths later and Scott comes awake, rolling over onto his side and coughing copious amounts of lake water.
Stiles is weak with relief. He and Allison give Scott a minute to breathe, and then Allison’s lips are back on Scott’s for an entirely different reason than before.
Stiles resists his automatic impulse to roll his eyes at the pair of them. “It’s okay,” he says instead. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” No one bothers to respond; he’s trying to convince himself more than Scott, and they all know it.
“It’s over,” he adds. For now. And for now, that’s enough.