we all, us three, will ride and all together // G // Gen, Scott, Stiles, Allison
Just got incredibly tired so I'm very happy that I wrote this last night. Today is my mom's birthday and I wasn't sure if I would be home from taking her out for dinner to get anything together. I might just very well go to bed after Dateline and have an awesome, early sleep.
Clearly I live life on the edge.
Tomorrow I'll tackle the graphics for a fanmix that's due for a challenge I've teamed up with dontjudgeme for at beacon_hills.
This fic is post-324, spoilers for the last couple eps of the season. Didn't come out as well as I hoped but there are parts that I like how they turned out.
"How was last night?"
"Scotty, I appreciate the concern but asking me how I slept every night isn't going to make me sleep better."
Scott sighed over the phone at Stiles. "I know, Stiles. I just…"
"I know," Stiles returned quietly. "I'm getting there. Slowly."
"What time do you want mom and I over there?" Scott asked, changing the subject.
Stiles hummed. "Three's probably good. Oh, and I should probably mention."
"What?" Scott asked warily.
"My dad invited your dad."
"What?" Scott exclaimed. "Why?"
"I think they're… begrudging friends now?" Scott cursed and Scott echoed his sentiments. "Basically. Figured you should have a heads up. He's bringing pie, I guess."
"Why does he have to try to ruin the best holiday of the year?" Scott pretty much whined, very un-alpha like.
"Want me to spill hot gravy in his lap?"
"You're the best, dude," Scott replied with a laugh. "Nah, I'll deal. See you tomorrow, okay?"
"‘Night, Scott," Stiles replied and they ended their call.
***
"You've got to be kidding me," Scott said, looking around.
The room was the same, bright and white and empty.
Except Stiles was there with him, what seemed like miles away across the room.
"Scott?" Stiles asked, voice low and cautious. He looked pale and nervous.
"Stiles, what's going on?" Scott asked, reaching out to his friend who was suddenly standing right beside him.
"I didn't do this, Scott, I didn't. I haven't dreamed since that whole thing, this isn't me!" Stiles babbled, checking his hands and counting his fingers over and over.
"It's me."
Stiles and Scott whirled around and saw Allison.
Allison sitting cross-legged on the nemeton stump.
Allison sitting cross-legged on the nemeton stump that looked old and shrivelled from the last time they saw it. Less than itself, somehow.
"Sorry, it's my fault," she said again. "I brought you here, although I didn't realize it would be here. Seems fitting?"
She smiled, half sad but all Allison Argent and Scott knew. He closed the space between them, reached his hand out but she shook her head.
"This is just a dream. Sorry."
"But why?"
"I don't know. I'm not sure how this works. I think it might be this thing," she said, patting the withered wood under her. "Sorry, Stiles."
Stiles joined Scott and stood in front of her, face still stricken. "Allison…"
"Don't," she replied and shook her head so her hair bounced around her face. "Not your fault."
"But-"
"No, Stiles. Not your fault," Allison insisted. "I know it'll take you a while to believe it but forgive yourself."
"But you-"
Allison cut him off again. "I don't forgive you, Stiles, because there's nothing to forgive for."
Stiles looked like he was going to keep arguing but Allison rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Scott. Scott felt, rather than saw Stiles move, and looked up to see him suddenly halfway across the room, out of hearing. Stiles threw his hands up in the air and Scott didn't need werewolf senses to hear Stiles swearing.
"Whoops," Allison said with a wince. "I don't know how all this works. I don't know if it's our minds, my mind-hey, remember the time you tried to ask Deaton if the room of requirement from Harry Potter could ever be a real thing?" Allison laughed, the sound echoing in the large room and rebounding into Scott's whole body.
"It really is you, isn't it?" he asked softly.
Allison smiled simply and shrugged. "I'm proud of you, Scott. All of you. And I'm sorry I couldn't tell you before I went."
"Isaac figured it out, you know. Him and your dad make a good team, oddly enough."
"This is a weird conversation," Allison said and Scott laughed, surprising himself.
"Only our lives, right?"
For a split second everything was good again. It was old times and Allison was alive and Stiles wasn't wracked with guilt over something he couldn't control and none of them had the echoes of possession and spirits around them.
But it was only a split second and he couldn't ignore it any longer.
"Why are you here, Allison?" he asked. He looked at her hard, really looked, and it seemed like she was growing fainter.
"Take care of my dad, okay? I mean, look after him? I never got a chance to learn more about what happens when there aren't any female leaders. I don't know if he'll stay around but… please?"
"Yeah, of course," Scott said, nodding. "Always."
"And-don't hate me-but look after your own dad, too. Okay, Scott? I'm not saying you should be best friends but give him a chance."
Scott didn't trust his voice or his words so he nodded again.
She was fading, and smiling and his heart felt like it was breaking.
"Take care of Stiles and Isaac and, god, Lydia. Make sure she's doing okay, because she won't tell you if she isn't and-"
Scott cut in gently, wishing he could touch her. "Ally, it's okay. I'll look after them." Allison smiled sadly. "I meant what I said, you know. I do love you, Scott McCall. And so do they, and that's all I could ever want."
"Love you too, Allison," Scott returned and watched her disappear, along with the nemeton.
The room was just a room.
And Stiles and Scott disappeared, as well, sinking into dreamless sleep.
***
Scott woke up feeling good. Clear. At ease.
A first in a long while.
***
He remembered as soon as he walked through the door at the Stilinski house.
Stiles put the sweet potato casserole he was holding on the kitchen table and grabbed Scott into a tight hug.
Neither Melissa nor the sheriff commented or brought it up.
***
And when Agent McCall arrived, too close to meal time to be anything but nerves and wavering thoughts on actually showing up, Scott was the first one to greet him.
He took the pie from his dad (store bought, but at least it was a pie) and offered his hand to shake, finally greeting him on neutral and equal ground.
Clearly I live life on the edge.
Tomorrow I'll tackle the graphics for a fanmix that's due for a challenge I've teamed up with dontjudgeme for at beacon_hills.
This fic is post-324, spoilers for the last couple eps of the season. Didn't come out as well as I hoped but there are parts that I like how they turned out.
"How was last night?"
"Scotty, I appreciate the concern but asking me how I slept every night isn't going to make me sleep better."
Scott sighed over the phone at Stiles. "I know, Stiles. I just…"
"I know," Stiles returned quietly. "I'm getting there. Slowly."
"What time do you want mom and I over there?" Scott asked, changing the subject.
Stiles hummed. "Three's probably good. Oh, and I should probably mention."
"What?" Scott asked warily.
"My dad invited your dad."
"What?" Scott exclaimed. "Why?"
"I think they're… begrudging friends now?" Scott cursed and Scott echoed his sentiments. "Basically. Figured you should have a heads up. He's bringing pie, I guess."
"Why does he have to try to ruin the best holiday of the year?" Scott pretty much whined, very un-alpha like.
"Want me to spill hot gravy in his lap?"
"You're the best, dude," Scott replied with a laugh. "Nah, I'll deal. See you tomorrow, okay?"
"‘Night, Scott," Stiles replied and they ended their call.
***
"You've got to be kidding me," Scott said, looking around.
The room was the same, bright and white and empty.
Except Stiles was there with him, what seemed like miles away across the room.
"Scott?" Stiles asked, voice low and cautious. He looked pale and nervous.
"Stiles, what's going on?" Scott asked, reaching out to his friend who was suddenly standing right beside him.
"I didn't do this, Scott, I didn't. I haven't dreamed since that whole thing, this isn't me!" Stiles babbled, checking his hands and counting his fingers over and over.
"It's me."
Stiles and Scott whirled around and saw Allison.
Allison sitting cross-legged on the nemeton stump.
Allison sitting cross-legged on the nemeton stump that looked old and shrivelled from the last time they saw it. Less than itself, somehow.
"Sorry, it's my fault," she said again. "I brought you here, although I didn't realize it would be here. Seems fitting?"
She smiled, half sad but all Allison Argent and Scott knew. He closed the space between them, reached his hand out but she shook her head.
"This is just a dream. Sorry."
"But why?"
"I don't know. I'm not sure how this works. I think it might be this thing," she said, patting the withered wood under her. "Sorry, Stiles."
Stiles joined Scott and stood in front of her, face still stricken. "Allison…"
"Don't," she replied and shook her head so her hair bounced around her face. "Not your fault."
"But-"
"No, Stiles. Not your fault," Allison insisted. "I know it'll take you a while to believe it but forgive yourself."
"But you-"
Allison cut him off again. "I don't forgive you, Stiles, because there's nothing to forgive for."
Stiles looked like he was going to keep arguing but Allison rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Scott. Scott felt, rather than saw Stiles move, and looked up to see him suddenly halfway across the room, out of hearing. Stiles threw his hands up in the air and Scott didn't need werewolf senses to hear Stiles swearing.
"Whoops," Allison said with a wince. "I don't know how all this works. I don't know if it's our minds, my mind-hey, remember the time you tried to ask Deaton if the room of requirement from Harry Potter could ever be a real thing?" Allison laughed, the sound echoing in the large room and rebounding into Scott's whole body.
"It really is you, isn't it?" he asked softly.
Allison smiled simply and shrugged. "I'm proud of you, Scott. All of you. And I'm sorry I couldn't tell you before I went."
"Isaac figured it out, you know. Him and your dad make a good team, oddly enough."
"This is a weird conversation," Allison said and Scott laughed, surprising himself.
"Only our lives, right?"
For a split second everything was good again. It was old times and Allison was alive and Stiles wasn't wracked with guilt over something he couldn't control and none of them had the echoes of possession and spirits around them.
But it was only a split second and he couldn't ignore it any longer.
"Why are you here, Allison?" he asked. He looked at her hard, really looked, and it seemed like she was growing fainter.
"Take care of my dad, okay? I mean, look after him? I never got a chance to learn more about what happens when there aren't any female leaders. I don't know if he'll stay around but… please?"
"Yeah, of course," Scott said, nodding. "Always."
"And-don't hate me-but look after your own dad, too. Okay, Scott? I'm not saying you should be best friends but give him a chance."
Scott didn't trust his voice or his words so he nodded again.
She was fading, and smiling and his heart felt like it was breaking.
"Take care of Stiles and Isaac and, god, Lydia. Make sure she's doing okay, because she won't tell you if she isn't and-"
Scott cut in gently, wishing he could touch her. "Ally, it's okay. I'll look after them." Allison smiled sadly. "I meant what I said, you know. I do love you, Scott McCall. And so do they, and that's all I could ever want."
"Love you too, Allison," Scott returned and watched her disappear, along with the nemeton.
The room was just a room.
And Stiles and Scott disappeared, as well, sinking into dreamless sleep.
***
Scott woke up feeling good. Clear. At ease.
A first in a long while.
***
He remembered as soon as he walked through the door at the Stilinski house.
Stiles put the sweet potato casserole he was holding on the kitchen table and grabbed Scott into a tight hug.
Neither Melissa nor the sheriff commented or brought it up.
***
And when Agent McCall arrived, too close to meal time to be anything but nerves and wavering thoughts on actually showing up, Scott was the first one to greet him.
He took the pie from his dad (store bought, but at least it was a pie) and offered his hand to shake, finally greeting him on neutral and equal ground.