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Something is on her cheek.
Allison stretches a little, then burrows back down into the earth. She just wants to sleep.
The thing moves. One, two, three, four times, growing more and more insistent. “C'mon Ally.” A voice says. It sounds familiar, but she shakes it off anyways. “Lemme sleep.”
“Allison.” The – his – voice says. “Allison. We have to go.”
She can place the voice now. “Stiles?”
“Yeah.” He says. “Yeah, it’s me. Now come on, we –“
“Have to go.” She finishes for him. He sounds tense, and it doesn’t make sense because the last time she saw him –
Oak creek. Her father’s gun. Her arrow. The Oni. Lydia. Scott.
Her memories hit her like a truck and she gasps as she sits up, hands clutching at her stomach. “The Oni –“ She says, “Stiles, are you –“
“It’s me, I promise.” He whispers. “We survived, and I – I got better. We’re all okay, and I promise I will explain everything to you, but first we need to go.”
“You keep saying that.” She’s louder than she should be, but can’t bring herself to care. She just wants to sleep. “You keep – Stiles, what’s going on? Are we in danger?”
“No.” It’s too quick to be the truth. “We’re safe, I swear. Or we will be, once we leave. So you need to trust me.”
The last time she saw Stiles, he was barely recovering from a demonic possession. Never trust a fox. She almost shakes her head.
“Allison.” Stiles sounds more serious than she’s ever heard him, more sad. “Please.”
Stiles isn’t a fox. He’s her friend, and they’ve saved each other too many times for her to deny him now.
“Okay.” She whispers.
“Great! Okay, okay, so first we should probably get you up-“ He places one hand on her back, the other on her arm. It’s too dark for her to see him, but the touch is comforting. “You’re doing great, Ally!” He helps her get her legs under her, then to stand on them. She stumbles when he tries to pull away and he’s instantly besides her again, clasping her hand in his. “Come on Ally. You got this.”
She just wants to sleep.
Stiles helps her through the mine field of gnarled roots and chunks of rock. They’re at the Nemeton – which makes sense when she thinks about it. The stupid tree had an impact on her life – why wouldn’t it shape her death as well? Assuming she’s even dead, which she’s getting less and less sure about as they go on.
She takes a deep breath. Safety first, questions later. She trusts Stiles enough for that, at least.
“Ally?” the boy nudges her, and that’s when she realises that she’s been staring at the Nemeton. They’ve gotten further from it that she’d realised. (Every second feels so slow.) Stiles nudges her again.
“Sorry.” She says. “”I’m sorry, I just-“
“You still feel it, don’t you?” He asks. She wishes she could see him. “It’s pull.”
“Yeah.” She whispers. “It’s like it’s tethering me. Tying me to the spot.”
Stiles sucks in a deep breathe. “It’s just a tree.” He says. It sounds like he’s trying to re assure himself. “Just a tree. Not even an actual tree, its more of a stump-“
“Let’s go.” She wants to leave. Leave this behind. Whether she’s referring to the tree, the woods, the town as a whole – she’s not sure yet. “It’s just a tree, right?”
“Right.” The sun is starting to rise, pale rays of light working their way though the foliage. When did it become morning? “It’s just a tree. Come on.”
Slowly, slowly, they continue on their way. Stiles leads them, his hand in hers, eyes looking forward. Neither of them speak. They breathe as quietly as they dare, soft puffs of air fading the second they arrive. This is not a place for noise.
As they walk, Allison starts wondering what’s waiting for her, in the outside world. What’s happened to her dad? To Scott? To Lydia? It’s been two years. Stiles had promised they were all okay, but were they happy? Content? Were they out there living their own lives? What did these lives even look like? Would any of them have space for her?
Would any of them want her?
“Allison.” They’ve reached the edge of the woods. Stiles is looking at her softly, carefully, like she might break under his gaze. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”
She giggles in spite of herself. “Where are we going now?”
“The clinic. Deaton should be there by now, though he might have to close practice for the day once we get you in there.”
Deaton had once drowned her and Scott and Stiles for sixteen hours in a mad attempt to save their parents – one that actually worked. If anyone could give her answers, it was him, cryptic as he was. “Will Scott be there?”
“Maybe.” Stiles says. “God, I hope not, its unnatural for a teenager like him to be up and about this early.”
Teenager like him. Allison frowns. “Isn’t it too early for you?”
He smiles. “Well, someone had to come and get you.”
It’s a blatant lie, but for now Allison will take it. She’s alive, she’s breathing, she’s with one of her best friends, and she’s on her way to meet the others. Questions can wait, for now.
They walk down the empty road together. It’s too early for anyone else to be out, so they stroll down the middle of the road. Allison can feel her strength returning but she doesn’t let go of Stiles’ hand. It’s what’s grounding her, keeping her from floating away like this is all some strange dream. Find an anchor.
After what feels like hours, but could be minutes instead, they reach the clinic. It looks the same. It looks like everything she’s ever wanted. It looks like a home she cannot return to. It looks like the place where she once died, because it is. It’s been two years.
She can’t move.
“Ally?”
“What if they don’t want me?” She whispers. It’s childish, she knows, but- “It’s been two years. Everyone must have moved on by now.” God, She feels so weak.
“Allison. Allison, hey. Look at me.” Stiles is standing right in front of her now. “Life goes on.” He whispers. “We went on, too. But I promise you, there is not one single day that went by without us missing you. All of us.” He cups her cheeks. His hands are surprisingly soft. “We missed you so much.” He says. “We loved you so much, and I promise you that the second you step through those doors, we’ll continue right on. But first-“ His eyes are large and dark in the weak light. “- first, you need to go.”
She giggles at that. Stiles smiles, impossibly slow and sad. She never saw him like this, before. He rests his forehead against hers. “Go home, Allison. Go home to your dad and Scott and Lydia. They’ve missed you so much.”
After a long second, she steps away and turns towards the clinic. The glass doors look strangely inviting. She walks a few steps, then turns towards Stiles. “Aren’t you coming, too?”
His smile remains the same. Years later, Allison will reflect on this, the moment that she returned to the living at the behest of the dead. Later, she will always remember Stiles as she saw him then – ghostly pale and silent, more sombre than she had ever seen him before. Later, as she walks into the clinic, she will not remember anything of her journey there.
Now, she smiles at her friend, and he smiles back. “You have to go.” He tells her.
“I’ll be right behind you.”