Chapter Text
It was when he tried to pat Scott, his brother, on the shoulder like he'd done hundreds of times before and he flinched like he'd been hit before looking away and laughing it off that Stiles realised that even trapped in a box and buried, the Nogitsune had won. No, that wasn't exactly true. Stiles had seen the signs for weeks since they'd defeated the dark spirit. Despite the palpable relief amongst the pack members there was a darkness still hanging over everyone.
At first Stiles had marked it down as grief. They'd lost after all, even after defeating the Oni and trapping the Void. Chris lost a daughter, Scott lost his first love, Isaac lost his girlfriend and Lydia lost a best friend and a lover. Allison had been his friend. She'd meant everything to the pack and had sacrificed herself to defeat him-the Nogitsune, Stiles reminded himself, not him. But it had felt like him. It still felt like his fault. Even as Chris and Isaac and Melissa and his Dad and Scott and Lydia tried to tell him that it wasn't him, that it wasn't his fault. They still felt like half-truths, empty afterthoughts, lines from a script telling them what they should say given the circumstances but it still didn't feel like the truth.
So far, Ethan had been the most honest. After the battle had ended he'd just looked at Stiles unseeing as tears filling his eyes, processing the incomprehensible loss of his brother and then he avoided the pack for days after the funerals until the day he announced he was leaving. That was when he confronted Stiles, cornering him at his Jeep and pinning him against the door, hitting and gripping the roof so hard Stiles had to spend hours after hammering out the dents. He'd looked at Stiles with rage, disgust, like he was evil incarnate. Stiles didn't want to look at him but he couldn't look away as he finally stopped screaming and hitting the jeep only to rasp out weakly "How could you take him from me?" tears streaked silently down Ethan's cheeks, "He was my other half... MY BROTHER! We only had each other and YOU took him from me!!!!! IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU! WHY DO YOU GET TO LIVE WHEN YOU HAVE SO MUCH BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS! WHY?!" a vice gripped Stiles' chest and he felt his own eyes well up, his throat seized "I'...uh...I'm so sorry, Ethan" he choked out around the lump in his throat " I'm so sorry, I couldn't control it...I...uh....I couldn't...ah" he squeezed his eyes shut as his voice broke.
He couldn't face this. Any of this and yet part of him was relieved that someone was punishing him from the monstrous things he'd done. He braced himself for a hit, waiting for Ethan to even the score but all he felt was the cold air left in the space where Ethan's body had been as he dropped his hands and stepped away from Stiles. Stiles looked up at him uncertain, barely able to make out his face in the dark without werewolf or Nogitsune vision, he shuddered as he remembered. But he just saw a grey blur of Ethan, he looked rung out, shoulders hunched like he's aged 50 years, defeated.
He didn't look up from the ground as he whispered "I'm sorry Stiles, I know it wasn't....I know it wasn't you, but...you have the same face. I know you were a victim too, you were possessed for fucks sake it's-it's just that's all I can see when I look at you. That's why I can't stay...I can't unsee it and I can't live every day seeing the face of the monster that killed Aiden. I can't...take care Stiles" Ethan turned without looking at him and was in the wind before Stiles could blink.
The whole incident felt like a fever dream but Stiles could still hear Ethan's words and cries as he collapsed onto the ground, adrenaline coursing through his chest, heart hammering and his ears ringing as he tried to come to terms with it all. The stark reminder of the lives he had changed forever. Stiles didn't blame Ethan, he was surprised he was still breathing. He felt guilty for having got off so easily, in fact. He didn't know what it was like to be a twin, but he had a brother and he and Scott had been so inseparable/tied at the hip their whole lives that they might as well have been blood brothers and he couldn't even think about losing Scott. It was too painful and inconceivable and he would be a husk of himself if it happened, like a...void. No, Stiles couldn't go there. But he could imagine how Ethan must feel. To be fair, he would leave town too if it meant never seeing the monster that haunted his nightmares, that had cost him so much. But even if he left Beacon Hills, there were still mirrors everywhere. And he could never escape the sight of the monster that reflected back at him.
After-2 Weeks Post-Nogitsune
Stiles and the couch had now become one, his sweat from the past seven hours of reality tv binge watching had finally bound them together in holy matrimony. It was the only kind of relationship he was fit for apparently. There had been some potential with Malia and she had called him a few times after everything but now that the constant pump of adrenaline he'd had from being possessed and near death had left his body, he felt increasingly more conflicted and uncomfortable about what had happened between them at Eichen House. I mean, who loses their virginity while fighting demon possession, to a female and slightly feral, albeit hot were-coyote in a mental asylum?! Stiles, apparently. Honestly, it was pretty on brand considering the chaos that his life was even before his best friend was bitten by a werewolf. God, he really was a magnet for it wasn't he. The thought made him shudder. Was that why it chose him? He couldn't think about it. Couldn't go there. He squeezed his eyes shut as though that would shut out all the intrusive thoughts and images, dozens at once thanks to his ADHD brain. The boardgame with black and white stones, the feeling of bandages choking him, the blood on his hands from trying to keep his dad's deputy's guts in his body, the whispers in his ear, crawling like snakes sending shivers down his spine. He couldn't he couldn't he couldn't. His breath sped up, he squeezed his eyes tighter and pretended he couldn't hear the riddle; everyone has it...everyone has it but no one can lose it...no one can lose...what is it? A- Rough hands grabbed his shoulders and he lashed out on instinct "NO! NO not again, I won't let you in! NO!" he screamed, eyes bursting open only to be greeted by a sad, stressed blue pair.
Stiles sighed in relief "Dad, ooff, since when do you walk in a room like a ninja? I thought your knees were too creaky for that old man" he forced out a laugh and given his Dad's strained smile he didn't believe it but he knew he'd let it go. His Dad was amazing that way, he knew when and when not to push. "Haha, very funny sleeping beauty" his Dad forced another smile but his crinkled eyes still screamed 'I am concerned'.
"Stiles, be honest with me and tell me how long have you been on this couch? Because that sweatshirt looks like yesterday's and smells like the one from St.Patrick's 2011 when you threw up that French onion dip"
"Dad! How dare you speak of that which must stay unspoken! Also, time is a human construct and relative so...I can't really say" Stiles protested.
Smart assery could get you everywhere and Stiles knew that if you talked enough about confusing and philosophical shit people usually got tired of him and would leave him alone. Only, he knew his Dad was fluent in Stiles-speak and could see through most of his bullshit, especially on days he was less sleep deprived. He knew his Dad could see the bags under his eyes and smell the sweater which was on wear number 6 but he still knew his lines from what old Stiles would say and he felt like he needed to say them so they could both pretend that he was still the same old Stiles. He had to be old Stiles, himself whoever that was otherwise what was it all for? Stiles blinked and his Dad was staring at him. Dammit, he was still spacing out. The Adderall wasn't working.
Noah sighed like he was about to start hiking uphill "Stiles...while I appreciate that you need to rest and recuperate after everything, I just want to make sure you don't go too far or get stuck...I think it would be good for you if you went over to see Scott. Melissa messaged me this morning and...I think he needs his best friend" Noah swallowed and looked behind Stiles out the window so he wouldn't tear up. He couldn't bear thinking about all that Scott and Stiles had been through, he still saw them as two awkward kids who'd found each other in kindergarten, Scott had been shy and chubby and knew no one as he'd just moved, meanwhile Stiles' had crazy troll doll hair and never stopped moving or talking, the other kids had long tired of trying to keep up with him and he remembered the way Stiles' eyes lit up when he saw Scott a.k.a. his new victim. He'd sprinted to him, Spiderman action figure in hand and yelled 'Hey do you want to see the dead bird I found! I'm pretty sure Jackson killed it with a rock but I'm still working on theories!' Scott had smiled and whispered 'okay, cool' and the rest was history for the two little weirdos. They'd always seemed so innocent. Their childhood years spent playing video games and messing around in the backyard. He remembered the time he caught them arguing as they tried to use craft glue to put the coffee table back together, Stiles had broken it while they practiced Lacrosse inside as they were forbidden from doing of course, and Scott had nearly had an asthma attack when he realised Noah had caught them when he came home early.
The idea that that innocent kid was going through the same horror he went through when he lost Claudia was unbearable. Worse still, was the fact that half the time he looked at his son he had to fight his flinch as he remembered the smile he wore when possessed the nogitsune, the cutting truths he'd told, the sheer maliciousness in the dark eyes that matched his late wife's, their brown the same but the warm spark in them replaced by something chilling that made him feel like his grave was being walked over. But Noah couldn't think like that. He had to move forward, and he had to help Stiles do so too. And the first step to that was getting him off the couch and into a shower for god's sake.
Stiles did not want to move. He wanted to stay glued to one of the few places he'd felt even remotely safe in but he knew his Dad had a point. Also, by the way he was looking forlornly out the window he knew he needed to do something to put him at ease. So he said " Sure, Dad. I'll just go wash off the french onion BO and text Scott that I'm heading over" He forced a smile and exhaled as he heaved himself upright, back cracking as he did so. His Dad winced " How many Big Brother episodes was it Stiles?" He gave him his I Know All, I'm The Sherriff Brow Raise.
" Only 4 and a half...."
"They're 90 minute episodes, Stiles!"
When Stiles got to Scott's house he sat in the driveway for 15 minutes. Sure, he'd seen Scott often enough since Allison died, the funeral and everything, but they'd been fighting a fox demon trying to kill them more than half that time and he knew none of them had fully processed everything that had happened. Namely, that Stiles wore the face of a murder and he knew he would be a reminder every time they looked at him of everyone they lost and all the trauma they'd been through. They'd never had to live with the monsters they'd defeated before, except Peter. For fucks sake, he'd stabbed Scott! He remembered it like he'd done it himself and he'd loved it, the pain, the power, the suffering. The memory of it made the acid churn in his stomach.
He breathed in deeply one last time. He knew he owed it to Allison to look after Scott. He would do what they always did after they 'won', they'd put what happened in a box, focus on the present, fake it till you make it until another problem crops up that you can focus all your attention on and then you don't have to deal with messy things like emotions and trauma. Stiles could do this. He could be Scott's funny, sarcastic best friend, always there to support him-whether it be with a baseball bat or a witty comeback, he'd be there. He had to, especially after Scott saved him this time. So he stole himself and walked up to the door, he hesitated as he felt the absurd urge to knock even though he'd cut himself keys for this house that was his second home. Before he could open the door though, Melissa did it for him. He could swear that woman was some kind of supernatural. Her curls were in a messy bun and her eyes looked more tired than usual. "Hi sweetie, come on in " she gave a small smile but her greeting was more subdued than usual. Stiles tried not to let it get to him. He forced a smile that probably looked more like a grimace as he tried to make eye contact "Thanks, Melissa" he slid past her and pretended not to hear her inhale, feel her tense up or think about the fact she didn't hug him like she always did. That didn't bring tears to his eyes at all, no, that was just his yawning. He was tired from all those weeks of sleep depriving spirit possession after all.
He found Scott on his bed, pictures scattered around him, one in hand of Allison on their third date. He remembered he'd called Stiles after and gave all these mushy details of how funny and smart and beautiful she was-how her eyelashes captured the moonlight and she farted rainbows or so it sounded like according to Scott and he told Stiles that this girl was his forever. Sure, eventually they'd settled on being friends and found new people. But you never forgot your first love. Allison hadn't in the end when she'd bled out in Scott's arms.
Stiles couldn't go there. So he put on his mask and thought WWOSD-What would old Stiles do? He'd give Scott a bro-pat or punch or slap or tackle or side hug or all of the above. He decided to pat him on the shoulder so he wouldn't startle him. But as he made contact Scott flinched and spun round, dropping the picture
" What the fu-oh, it's just you Stiles" he grabbed his chest and heaved a few breaths like he'd just escaped a burglar and Stiles felt more like a criminal intruder than ever. "Yeah, it's just me Scotty" Stiles said, pretending he didn't mean more by it, like he wasn't trying to scream at Scott with his eyes 'I AM MYSELF I AM NOT POSSESSED ANYMORE' while smiling manically like a big pharma rep. "What's up? Talk to me" he sat on the edge of the bed while Scott picked the photo up, eyes fixated on it while he leaned against the headboard. He was silent for a long while, tears welling up in his eyes but a small smile forming as he looked at Allison's face, " I miss her" he whispered hoarsely like he'd been crying for days, which he probably had "I don't know what to do without her, Stiles. I can't...I can;t...I just can't...." his face crumpled and he gripped the photo for dear life. He started to rock back and forth and curl in on himself like he was fighting some external force or fighting waves of pain.
Stiles had never seen Scott like this before. There was nothing he could say, no research he could do or answers he could find that would make this better. He'd tried looking up spells and rituals to bring back the dead but they all carried too many risks with little evidence and the last thing he wanted to do was bring back a demon in Allison's body. None of them could go through that again.
Scotts sobs filled the room, the house, the whole town maybe with the howls he couldn't keep in. Stiles didn't want to make it worse but he couldn't help his instincts, so he lay on the bed behind Scott and held onto him tightly, like he'd done before when Scott had tried to set himself on fire at the hotel from hell. He couldn't do anything but be there and say " I know it hurts. I'm here, Scotty. I'm here." Scott was tense at first, but after his cries started to slow down and his chest stopped heaving, he started to relax and seemed to sink into the bed like he'd just finished a marathon. "Thanks, Stiles. I'm glad you're back" he whispered. And so, they just lay there in silence, not saying a word and in that moment things almost seemed okay given the circumstances. They lay there until Melissa forced them downstairs and made them stuff as much Chinese takeout as their stomachs could take. They watched tv and Scott turned to Stiles and his eyes said thank you, he gave him a small real smile. Then when Stiles left, Melissa hugged him goodbye tentatively but it was something and as Stiles drove home he felt a small burst of hope in his gut that things could go back to some kind of normal.