Chapter Text
Prologue
Scott Mccall was no stranger to hospital visits. He was constantly coming and going amidst the hustle and bustle and acrid stench of chemicals and sickness to visit his mom and had had a couple of trips there after mistakes made throughout his youth. But he swore at that exact moment he hated hospitals and never wanted to spend another second in one.
Because there he stood at the end of a hospital bed, watching over his best friend and his first love, her dark hair fanned across the harsh white of the hospital linen and her face peaceful in its rest as the heart monitor pulsed on. She hadn't woken up in over a week and every minute that passed by drained Scott’s hope as visiting doctor’s became more grim and vague with every report on her condition, as if they believed that by not telling him exactly what was wrong would be deluding him that she was fine.
Allison Argent was dying.
It wasn't just the time and the doctor’s that told him that though. It was the stench that lay thick over her, a stench he wished he were less familiar with that clung to her despite how clean and sterile the room was and made him sick to his stomach. And he wasn't the only one that could smell it.
The stench of death made Isaac Lahey want to run and never stop running until he had torn the scent from every inch of his being. Sitting in that hospital room made him remember the way that it had smelt wrapped around Erica, wrapped around Boyd, wrapped around Aiden and it made him desperately want it to not be the last thing he smelt of Alison. He never wanted to forget the apple cinnamon that had danced from her hair so sweetly to fill his breath. He wanted to stop breathing altogether just so he could hold on to the memory. Anything would be better than the stench.
Anything except the constant building pressure filling Lydia Martin up from the inside. It nibbled at the edges of her tongue and tickled her throat, forming a pit in her stomach and a pain through her vocal chords that grew with every second she watched her dark haired friend slipping away. But she wouldn't succumb, she would fight it till the bitter end even if it was pointless. She knew what this pressure was, she knew what it meant. But she would not scream, because no amount of pain could be worse than what that scream came with.
This was all Stiles Stillinski’s fault. That was all he could tell himself as he sat at the foot of her bed, bouncing and tapping in his anxious helplessness. He had let the void slither into his mind and spread like a parasite throughout Beacon Hills. He had let it grow stronger and take his strength and that was how it had been able to take the Oni, and that was how Alison had been stabbed. He should have fought harder. He had caused so much suffering and now he was going to kill the people closest to him. It was all his fault.
Kira Yukimura wasn't sure why she couldn't stop crying. She barely knew Alison after all. They had only met a week ago, there was no reason for this to be hitting her so hard. She should cry when Alison’s dead, not when she’s dying. Nobody else in the room was crying and they'd all known her so much longer. She didn't know why they’d let her stay in the room to begin with, there were people that hadn't been allowed to stay that had known her longer after all, why should she take their opportunity to spend their last moments with Alison from them. She was one of her first friends here and Kira was already going to lose her. She just wished they’d had longer. Maybe that was why she was crying. She was weeping for her lost future.
And then there were the onlookers, those that didn't know Alison well enough or didn't know her at all but still wanted to show their support, sitting outside or pacing back and forth from the vending machine at one end of the hall to the storage closet at the other end. Derek Hale was overwhelmed with guilt every time he saw her expressionless face in that hospital bed and thought of everything his world had taken from her. Her aunt, her mother, her innocence. Was it going to take her now too?
Cora Hale had always hated flying but hadn't hesitated boarding the first plane she could find when her brother told her what had happened to Alison. Cora had spent part of a year working alongside the hunter before she left and had grown fond of her. Now she was left wondering if this would be different if she had stayed and been there to help them tackle the Nogitsune and the Oni. She could have at least warned her.
Malia Tate didn't know why she was there. She didn't know Allison. She didn't really know any of these people yet there she was, sitting outside a dying girl’s room, covering her nose to mask the stench slipping under the crack in the door. Everything was so much brighter than she remembered it being, fluorescent lights glared down at her like the light of the afternoon sun and she curled her body tight in on itself as every gust of wind shot through her like an electric current. Everything was so raw in her human flesh that she had been driven to watch over a group of people she knew nothing about. How stupid of her. Worst of all, she was actually rooting for them.
The rhythmic pulsing tone was the only constant any of them had in those dark hours spent in a sea of blinding white, the only definite sign that she was still with them, that they hadn't lost her just yet. If only she’d just open her eyes. Why wouldn't she open her eyes?
“You should bite her…” Isaac said suddenly from where he was hunkered down in the corner, eyes desperate as he stared at Scott, “that’ll heal her right?”
Scott nodded, paused, shook his head, paused, sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know…” he began, not taking his eyes off the sleeping girl, “there’s a chance it might save her but there’s also a chance that it might kill her.”
“Look at her,” Isaac implored, “she’s going to die either way.”
“No she’s not,” Scott argued, turning to glare at Isaac, “she’s strong. She’ll hold on.”
“She’s going to die,” Isaac continued stubbornly, “I know that and Lydia knows that.” Lydia looked over at him in surprise and he nodded at her, “you can feel the scream coming can’t you?”
She looked away in shame, drawing her knees closer to her chest and hugging them for comfort and Scott stared at her in shock.
“Lydia…” he trailed off.
“I won’t scream,” she insisted, eyes damp with her determination, “I won’t.”
“Scott give her the bite,” Isaac repeated, rising from his position to stand eye to eye with his alpha.
“It might kill her,” Scott refused, tightening his grip on the bed railing.
“And it might be the only way we can save her!” Isaac yelled, closing the space between them in several long strides and jabbing him in the chest, “she’s your pack isn’t she! That means she’s your responsibility! And you’re just going to let her die?!”
“I won’t bite her,” Scott stood firm, turning to glare at his beta viciously.
“Of course you won’t!” Isaac laughed mirthlessly, “because you’re a coward Scott! You’re no alpha! You’re a failure and now you’re just going to stand by and let her die! Her blood is on your hands now!”
The room held its breath as Isaac’s tirade ended and he was left glaring, eyes burning yellow, at his alpha in preparation for a response, for actions to be taken. For a second it seemed as though Scott wasn't going to react at all to Isaac before he took a step away from Allison’s bed and turned to face Isaac, his movements calm and balanced. Then his eyes were burning crimson and his fist had crunched into the side of Isaac’s jaw, sending him reeling and toppling over onto his back.
Isaac stared up at Scott in shock, raising a hand to his now throbbing jaw despite himself. A heat rushed through him and he leapt to his feet, feeling the shifting and pulsing as his face changed and his fangs grew before he was flinging himself across the room, claws swinging. Scott rose up to meet him in a clash of muscle and fury and the room exploded with panicked movement.
Stiles was up first to jam his arms between them and attempt to push them apart with his pitiful human strength, then Lydia was grabbing Scott by the shoulders and Kira seized Isaac and in a painful heaving and pulling managed to separate the two and drag them each across the room. Stiles wrapped an arm around Scott and Lydia secured his arms behind his back as he continued to fight against them to attack Isaac, who was putting up as much of a fight for Kira as she clung to his wrists to secure him.
“Enough,” Stiles muttered, “that’s enough guys.” When they continued to spit and snarl and struggle Stiles straightened abruptly and roared, “I said that’s enough!”
The wolves both fell silent, turning instead to look at Stiles, their blood turned to ice at the rage and the venom that had edged his words like razor blades. His eyes were left dark and hollow as he stared them each down, his jaw set in frustration as he released Scott and stepped away from him.
“This is stupid!” he hissed, shaking his head at them, “how is killing each other going to help Allison huh? Answer me that question big bad werewolves. We’ve lost enough already. We need each other now more than ever. We need to pull together, not fall apart.” He turned back to look at Allison grimly, “it’s what she would have wanted.”
Isaac went slack in Kira’s arms and she let him fall to his knees weakly. He looked tearfully up at them and whimpered, “I just don’t want to lose her… I can’t lose her…”
Scott pulled his arms from Lydia’s grip and went to crouch down before his beta, resting an arm lightly on his shoulder as a form of comfort, any sign of their fight melting back into their masks of grief.
“She’s not going to die Isaac,” he reassured him, “I promise you, I won’t let her die.”
Isaac nodded limply and shuddered as his tears flowed freely, his arms wrapped around his own thin frame tightly to hold in his sobs. Scott turned his body slowly so he was sat beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders to draw him close into his side, like a younger brother.
Kira let herself slip down onto her knees behind Isaac and drooped forward like a dying flower, resting her face between his shoulder blades as her tears returned anew as dewdrops for her falling petals. Stiles and Lydia crossed the room to join the huddle, Lydia pulling Kira close to her and taking Isaac’s hand with her spare arm as Stiles wrapped an arm around Scott and reached the other around to encompass Kira and Isaac.
They all collectively pulled tighter into each other and huddled together like penguins for winter as the storm loomed constantly over their heads, the only reminder of it’s omnipresence the constant beep that filled their every second.
“Even if…” Stiles began slowly and carefully, “even if she does die… we’ll be ok… we’ll hold onto each other to stay afloat… for her…”
Lydia smiled tearily across at him and linked her hand with his at the base of Kira’s back, giving it a light squeeze to let him feel her appreciation. She bit her lip as she felt the warmth of tears beginning to form behind her eyes and turned to rest her forehead against Kira’s shoulder to hide them from the others. She hated it when people saw her cry, it made her seem as weak and useless as she felt and facades are often difficult to rebuild.
And together in the white haze of a hospital room their hearts seemed to beat in time to the heart monitor as they clung to each other for dear hope, brushing at the edge of oblivion as Alison slept on.