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two of us

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two of us.




He can feel the cold of the blade through his shirt. His hands are shaking, from the cold of the snow around them or the fact that he's holding a sword to his stomach — he's not sure. Maybe both.


Scott turns around immediately, even though he's in the middle of fighting off the Oni. They're best friends, him and Scott, have always been as long as Stiles's memories reach back. Scott knows, would even without all of his werewolf magic, that this is important and that Stiles needs him.

The Oni stop too, two on either side of Scott. Lydia is behind him, he knows; she was forced to let go of him when he leapt forward to grab Kira's katana. He's lost sight of Kira, but thinks she's somewhere to his left. He hopes that she's okay; he never had the chance to really get to know her, but he knows that Scott likes her, maybe even has a little crush. He would know for sure, normally, but now there are a lot of things he doesn't know anymore, things he's lost control over.

He knows this though. He can control this.

“Scott.”, he says, again, because he has to. Scott's eyes flicker from Stiles' to the sword at his stomach to his trembling hands. And it should be obvious what Stiles is trying to do here, but there's no understanding in Scott's eyes. Only confusion and pain and misery and a hundred other things that are too painful to put a name to.

“Stiles -”, Scott reaches a hand towards him. He's still all wolfed out from his fight, but in this moment he just looks like he's sixteen again and trying to stop one of Stiles´ crazy schemes.

The Nogitsune crackles behind them. “Do it, Scott”, it says and it's voice alone makes Stiles grip on the sword steadier. “Help your friend die.”

And then there's shock in Scott's eyes as if he needed to hear the words to understand the implications of what's happening, of what Stiles is trying to do.

Stiles shakes his head and closes his eyes, just for one second. This is the one thing he will not give the Nogitsune. This one tiny, tiny thing where he will win.

“Stiles, no”, he hears Scott say, this time desperate and afraid. “There is another way, I swear, you don't have to do this -”

“They're dying, Scotty”, Stiles says, takes a deep breath, opens his eyes and readjusts his grip on the sword. “My dad, your mum, Deaton ... Who knows how many are already dead. God, Allison died.

“Stiles -”

He looks into Scott's eyes; eyes he knows better than his own sometimes. “There is no other way”, he tells them and hopes that Scott can read the truth in Stiles's.

“Scott”, the monsters starts again and no. Just no. He will not let this thing force Scott to kill him. Stiles can do that on his own. He will have this one victory.

Lydia starts screaming, milliseconds before Stiles jerks his hand's forwards and up, driving the sword through his gut.

For one moment the world stops. Stiles stares down at his hands, bloody, and the sword disappearing in his body. Then the pain starts and the world comes rushing back.

The Nogitsune laughs, ugly and delighted, Lydia falls to the ground behind him and Scott starts screaming too. It might be his name.

Stiles chokes on something — his own blood, he realizes dimly, and falls to his knees. The sword is still inside of him and jarres painfully.

And then Scott's there, griping his shoulders and holding him upright. Stiles is still looking down, and he can see Scott's hands shaking as he reaches for the sword to pull it out.

Scott's saying something, probably his name, pleading, and then he pulls at the sword and the motion is as smooth as Scott could possibly make it, but it's enough to throw Stiles back into his body; enough to make him aware that that's what he's feeling — that's not just pain. That's agony.

He wants to scream but there's more blood in his mouth, and he chokes halfway through. The sound that comes out in the end is pathetic.

Scott throws the sword away his all his strength, which means that it disappears right out of the clearing. Stiles wastes a moment to think about Kira and what she will have to say about that before he realizes that she will probably want a new one anyway.

Scott grasps for his hand and Stiles doesn't need to look to know that Scott's taking his pain. Stiles' forehead lands on Scott's shoulder and even through he has no enhanced senses — all he can smell is Scott and it reminds him of cookies baking in the oven, Melissa behind them and half the raw dough hidden somewhere on him or Scott; it reminds him of movie and cartoon night, of sleepovers and goodnight-horror stories; it reminds him of hot summer days and ice cream and cold winter days and sleighing. It reminds him of half a dead body in the woods and being stupid and reckless.

His hearing comes back to him last.

“-iles, please, hold on, please -”

“Scott”, Stiles rasps through the pain that is too much for even Scott to take and the blood in this mouth that just won't stop. And Stiles — he always has something to say, even if it's mostly useless and almost always sarcastic. But right now, now where it counts, and he really should have words for his best friend, for his brother — he's blank.

“I'm here”, Scott tells him and squeezes his hand. “Stiles, please. I'm here.”

“Yes”, Stiles says and then remembers something very important that Scott has to know. “Scott -”

“No”, Scott interrupts him, “No, you will not say — say goodbye or — or”, he chokes on his own words, too. “I promised you -”

Stiles shakes his head against Scott's shoulder. “This is not your fault”, he says and it's the most important thing Stiles has ever said in his entire life. Because if he learned something in the last few days it’s guilt and how much it hurts, how much it can destroy you. “You did -”, and why is it so hard to breathe?- “you did everything you could. There just — wasn't -”

“No -”

“Not your fault, Scotty. Never.”, and he's glad that Scott's a werewolf and has supernatural hearing because he can barely make out his own voice.

And there a so many more things he would have liked to say — now he remembers of course — but his vision becomes black and his body too heavy -


You're my brother, Scott.


Take care of my dad for me.



Be the alpha I know you can be. Take care of Lydia. Show Malia how to control her powers. Get Derek out of his shell.



Promise me to be happy.


Go to collage and do all the things we always dreamed about.




I love you.


But that's okay. Scott knows. That's why there best friends and will always be.






Scott only notices that Lydia stopped screaming when she starts again. This time it's the cry of a banshee; a cry of death.