Chapter Text
The end began with the outbreak of war. Humans and supers battled it out. Seated in the middle of the chaos and carnage was Scott McCall. Beacon Hills’ true alpha.
Leading a band of supernatural rebels, he fought the tyrannical Gerard Argent, the world's most deranged and bloodthirsty hunter. The war began when Scott and I were sixteen; and of course Scott fell for the man's only granddaughter. I can’t blame Scott for falling in love.
I knew ‘true love’ when I saw it. But I could blame him for causing the heat death of the fucking universe. As the worst of the war began, and the pack lost people in droves, it became obvious that we were gonna fail, but in the end, it didn't matter.
The humans united under Gerard's rule, and they began their plan to purge the Nemetons around the world.
I scrambled over the dead leaves and torn branches that riddled the forest floor. My breath came in gasps. Branches and leaves hit my face, snagged my clothes as I pushed through trees and foliage.
Sprinting to the Nemeton in Beacon Hills, my dear friend. Pained cries along with gunshots echoed. The aching sound of shrieks rang out past the winding branches and smoke.
When I got to the clearing, I choked. Bodies littered the grass, blood coating every tree. Only a few of the pack were still alive and… is that Alison? No, Scott couldn't have been that stupid. He couldn't have stolen away the hunter, but that is exactly what it seemed.
The true alpha had come to the pack with tears and his Romeo and Juliet story, so we made a plan. He told us she was a good person. Just caught up in the mess.
In making the plan, we used her as a spy until we could snatch her away. The plan should have taken at least a few more months, not days, for us to begin.
My eyes locked on the surviving pack: Scott, Alison, Peter, Derek, Lydia, Noah, Melissa and Chris Argent. I avoided looking at the grass, ignoring the bullet wounds that plastered Isaac and Jackson. The bodies of Liam and Mason. Cory and more, my beloved friends and pack that were lost trying to protect everyone.
“Stiles!”
Peter ran forward, his arms open, and protective.
“You're here! Stiles, you have to do something!”
Lydia's face was tear-stained and raw; Her hands came up to clench my arms with a painful amount of force, her nails digging into my flannel.
“They're getting closer!” Derek shouted, his eyes flashing blue and fearful. I could hear it, the sound of boots hitting the earth; could feel the thrum of the Nemeton beneath my feet as the hunters circled.
In an instant, I felt the sharp pain of a bullet slice into my shoulder and, along with it, the Nemeton's thoughts.
“Leave, dear Mieczysław, go far away, to the furthest existence. GO.”
My throat went raw as I let out a pained cry, falling to my knees as the pack surrounded me. Their backs were to me as they wolved out, or pulled out a weapon. I took one last look at the Nemeton, taking in all the power it granted me.
A Molotov shattered atop the old tree and with that me and the pack were gone in a flash of bright light, and the world with us. All at once the Nemetons exploded or were set on fire, causing every corner of the globe to crack and burn. In the blink of an eye the world as we knew it was gone.
I opened my eyes to pure white light shooting up and down creating a chain-linked fence of opalescent trees stretching out for eternity. I blinked.
“What is this place?”
My hands wobbled through the invisible floor holding the pack up.
Lydia was the first to speak up, “I thought it was only A theory, but I believe we are in THE multiverse.”
She was breathless as her tears ran dry. The multiverse stretched around them like an endless tree, shimmering with iridescent bark and branches. Branches that held galaxies, worlds’, and threads of time itself. There were no leaves, no flowers, only cold, skeletal beauty. Between the branches were millions of what looked like bubbles of different sizes filling the space.
“OK, cool, bigger question- what the hell are we standing on?”
I paced across the clear space like a drowsy bee, my boots silent against the nothing beneath me, mind still racing. Peter, blood-stained and probably half-dead, stood at my side. His brows were pushed together in thought.
“Maybe we're trapped in some kind of... pocket? A void suspended between life, death, and time. Neither living nor dead. Just adrift.” His tone was casual as if this was just another Tuesday, but I saw the tension in his shoulders.
“Oh, that's just great! We're stuck in some limbo pocket in the middle of space.”
My hands clenched and unclenched at my side. My chest tightened and my breath came in short heavy bursts. Vision blurred at the edges as the warmth of Peter's hand on my shoulder tried to pull me away from the impending panic attack. “Stiles—” Scott started, voice tentative.
“Don't,” I snapped, whipping around and pointing a trembling finger at him.
“Don't try to calm me down. I don't even want to look at you, McCall!”
I turned away, blinking back the furious sting of tears. The opalescent branches beneath glinted mockingly as I cursed under my breath.
I felt insanely out of my element drained of magic, stranded outside the edges of a universe that no longer existed. The walls of my mind pressed inward, squeezing me into something small, helpless.
“Don't try to tell me it’s going to be okay,” I muttered, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.
“I can’t... I can't lie about it. Not right now.”
The only thing holding me together was the warm, steady pressure of Peter’s hand on my back. My partner and anchor. I couldn’t even remember exactly when my loyalty shifted when Scott stopped being “home” and Peter Hale of all people became my north star, but it had happened.
Peter, who had saved me more times than I could count. Peter, who had never truly laughed at my questions, no matter how many times I badgered him.
Peter, who... stayed. I wasn’t stupid. I knew I loved him, but love wasn’t enough to cross certain lines. I would rather have Peter as a research partner/friend forever, a steady, sarcastic presence rather than risk losing him for selfishness.
My eyes were hot and red-rimmed by the time I actually calmed down. Peter, who had been rubbing calming circles on my back, wiped my puffy eye with his thumb.
“Come, sweetheart,” he said softly, lacing his fingers through mine. He guided me back to the others- it was time to make a plan.
I squeezed his hand tighter, steeling myself. Everyone was in various states of disarray, Allison still crying, Lydia fuming in silence, Chris Argent holding them together with brute stubbornness.
They needed me. I had to be something they could lean on. That was my position as the pack's Second, whose roles include: taking control when the alpha can't, disposing of pack aggressors, and being literally everything Scott fucking McCall needs.
“Lydia,” I rasped, clearing my throat.
“I need to know more about this place.”
Lydia shifted her furious glare away from Scott and focused on me.
“Right,” she said, flipping her hair off her shoulder in a sharp, familiar motion.
“I don't know much. Just the basics of the theory.”
She gestured at the vast glimmering branches overhead.
“In this 'tree' are millions, no, billions of universes, all tangled together with time and space. Infinite possibilities.” I breathed easier at the familiarity of Lydia’s clinical tone. It was normal, and normal was precious right now.
I let my eyes drift for a moment catching Scott still hovering by Allison, Chris’ protective stance, Melissa’s worried glance, until Scott finally moved, jogging over with a strained smile.
“Stiles, I know you're mad, but please listen!” he blurted.
I scowled but nodded stiffly. He relaxed immediately, flashing that crooked grin that used to mean something.
“Thanks, buddy,” Scott said, relieved.
“I know you're mad that I got Ally out before schedule and all, but whatever you found out about her isn't true!”
My mind stalled, “what?”
“Well I, uh, I know Lydia thinks Alison was in on the whole world-ending plan, but she wasn't!”
Scott threw his hands out like a plea. I leveled Alison With a glare that could probably kill Gerard if he weren't already dead.
“What is he talking about, Alison?”
The girl stiffened. Her eyes grew large before tears started up again. The way she hid in her father's arms spoke more than words could, and I knew I needed to get away before I smacked the Nazi.
“We're done here.”
I tried to turn but Scott stopped me.
“Look, I know she's the granddaughter of the Nazi but I love her!”
My blood pressure kept rising as he continued without pausing.
“And I know you're a little stretched thin, but do you think you could just, y'know... magic us out of here once your magic comes back?”
There was a beat of stunned silence. Dad stepped forward, his hands clenched into fists. Peter and Derek moved with him, silent walls of fury.
“No,” Dad said firmly, pulling me gently behind him.
“‘Stretched thin‘ isn’t even half of it.”
Peter's eyes flashed blue, dangerous, and cold. Derek’s shoulders tightened his mouth a grim line. I looked at Scott, and wondered when he had gotten so stupid. Without thinking, I broke from my father’s grasp, grabbed Scott by the collar of his hoodie, and dragged him to the very edge of the pocket.
“Damn it, Scott!”
“Have you not been listening?! Did you hear anything?! We are stuck! Outside of TIME! I can't just 'wait' for my magic to come back because it’s NEVER COMING BACK! DO YOU SEE A FUCKING NEMETON ANYWHERE?!”
My voice cracked on the last word. As I screamed, I plunged my arm through the shimmering barrier of the pocket and immediately regretted it. Pain lanced through me, white-hot and searing.
“Pull it back!”
“Stiles, no!”
Voices shouted from behind me, but I gritted my teeth and yanked my hand back. The skin was blackened, blistered, and barely recognizable. It didn't matter.
It didn’t even matter because as I wiped at my damaged skin, it healed instantly. Time didn’t exist here. I held up my arm, showing Scott the flawless skin.
“See?” I said hoarsely.
“Time. Doesn’t. Work.”
Scott paled.
“Then why the hell did you even bring us here, then, Stiles?!”
That was it. That was the nail in the coffin. I stared at him, at the boy who used to be my brother, and felt something inside me shatter.
“If you haven't noticed, McCall,” I spat, voice low and vicious, “THE WORLD ENDED. No- not just the world, THE FUCKING UNIVERSE IMPLODED!”
I threw my hand up, gesturing to the fiery wreckage burning far beyond the pocket. Peter and Noah were at my sides again, grounding me, and steadying my shaking frame. Peter squeezed my shoulder warm, solid, real.
“You know,” I said, voice thick with betrayal, “We wouldn't even be in this mess if you could've kept your goddamn dick in your pants.”
Scott flinched.
“I've owned my mistakes, Scott! I've lived with my guilt! I stood beside you after you became a werewolf. I hated myself every goddamn second! But I kept my promises!”
I stabbed a finger into my chest, throat burning.
“What about you?”
Melissa was crying quietly, and that... that hurt more than anything else. But I couldn't stop. Not now. I took a deep breath.
“I'm gonna get everyone out of here, and when I do—”
I locked eyes with Scott, voice steady as death.
“Forget my name, McCall.”
I turned on my heel and walked back to the others, sitting heavily beside Lydia. Peter followed silently, taking my hand without hesitation. He rubbed small, soothing circles into my palm as I stared up at the twisted remains of our home.
The bubble pulsed like a dying heartbeat slow, sluggish, and stubborn. The branches of the tree twisted out and overhead coming to a clear point directly above the bubble.
It juts out from the weave like a broken rib splintered, flickering, alive with static. Inside, I can see it: snapshots of a life I’d kill to get back. The kitchen table, covered in takeout boxes.
My dad’s warm, tired laugh echoed through the hallway. Scott’s sneakers are in the wrong place again. The Jeep. My chipped mug. It’s my universe, my home. The ache hits sharp and sudden, low in my ribs.
Ripples of destruction spider out, jumping from my branch to the next, and the next, and the next. Tiny bangs go off in the surrounding weave-like timeline landmines.
Universes that were already thin, already straining, just… collapsed. Implode. Flashing out like dying stars. Then a thought wild, stupid, so very ME flickered to life.
“Hey,” I croaked, voice ragged, "when a star implodes... a black hole forms, right?"
Peter and Lydia exchanged wary glances. “Yes, sweetheart,” Peter said cautiously.
“Why?”
“Well,” I said, standing shakily, “with the end of a universe... or universes’, wouldn't a black hole form?”
Lydia’s eyes widened.
“Maybe... but—”
"Then I think,” I said, staring at the burning sky, “I just found our way out.”