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Normally, when Stiles' alarm goes off, he sleeps through the damn thing for a good twenty minutes before rolling over and blindly slapping his nightstand until he accidentally lands on the snooze button.
Today is different.
It's just after five when his alarm trills the start of the day, and this time, Stiles is out of bed before the ringtone even reaches full volume.
Today, he has something important to do.
It only takes him fifteen minutes to shower and dress, pulling on a clean-ish pair of pants, one of his batman shirts, and his favourite hoodie to stave off the early morning chill. It takes a moment more to pull the wooden chest from his closet — hand-carved and lovingly stained by someone with far more talent and patience than Stiles could ever hope to possess — and then he heads down to the kitchen to get things ready. He figures he has about ten minutes, maybe twenty, which is plenty of time.
He sets the chest on the counter, far enough from the edge that he doesn't need to worry about it tipping off, and then begins to unload the contents.
Each piece — six cups, saucers, and teaspoons, the teapot and lid, plus the creamer and sugarbowl — are pulled from their cushy foam beds and unwrapped with the care shown to any priceless object.
Which is exactly what they are.
Despite only needing two of the six cups, he sets out the full service, just as he's been told. A quick glance at the clock tells him he's almost out of time, so he hurries to pull out the kettle, fill it with water, and set it on the stove.
Next comes the tea, a blend of Earl Grey and lavender, with a hint of green rooibos, jasmine, and hibiscus, that Stiles sets on the table. He fills the creamer and sugar bowl and takes a moment to admire the table.
Strangely, his first thought is that his mom would've liked it.
The set is white with a pattern of leaves and flowers that almost look brown until the light catches it and a beautiful gold flares to life. It's lovely, really. And he knows how lucky he is to have it.
Once the water boils, he pours some into the teapot along with a few drops of an elixir that cost him a full month's pay. He swirls it around as he mutters an incantation under his breath, warming and awakening the pot before he dumps it out. Then he starts fresh, pouring the water in and letting it sit and cool for a couple minutes before he adds the tea directly to the pot.
One teaspoon for each guest, and one for the pot.
It's what his contact told him and he trusts the man in terms of magic and tea, so he adds three teaspoons of the loose mix and puts the lid back on, letting it steep.
Then he steps back and gives himself a satisfied nod.
"You didn't have to go through all this trouble for little old me."
The voice isn't a surprise — he knew she'd be there — but it still cracks his heart nearly in half. The sting in his eyes quickly turns to tears, welling up so suddenly and so unexpectedly that he can't blink them all back in time. He uses the sleeves of his hoodie to wipe them away before he turns around, though, hoping to hide at least some of what he's feeling.
"Hey, Allison."
It's a whisper and nothing more, but his voice still cracks and his smile feels fragile no matter how hard he tries to hold himself together. And when Allison tilts her head and looks at him with a little frown tugging at her lips and sympathy shining bright in her eyes, Stiles realizes his smile isn't the only fragile part of him.
"Hey. None of that." Her whisper matches his own, filled with just as much emotion, but when she steps forward and smiles at him — god, he's missed those dimples — there's nothing brittle about her expression at all. Beneath her worry, she looks...happy. "This is a day of celebration, remember?"
They only get this opportunity on the solstice, when there's a little more magic in the air, when the veil between worlds is just a little bit thinner.
"Yeah, yeah of course. It's just..." Stiles blows out a breath and tries to embrace just how right she is. How lucky he is to have this moment. "It's really good to see you."
Her smile slides into a mischievous and playful smirk. "It's really good to be seen."
The laugh that bubbles up in his chest actually startles him. It's a little wet and it ends as fast as it starts, but he feels better for it and he knows that was exactly what she was hoping for.
"So what's all this?" She asks, nodding to the table, to the tea that's waiting for them.
"Ah, well. This is a surprise. For you."
The dimples are back, even as she shakes her head. "I think you maybe forgot one vital fact?"
"Ghosts can't drink?" He grins right back, but also spins sideways and holds out his arms in an after you gesture. "I have not forgotten. Just humour me?"
And she does. She slips past him with a sort of half curtsy and a giggle and she sits on the chair that he pulls out for her, even though they both know she's not actually sitting on the chair at all. More like, hovering in a seated position.
"Why, thank you." She smiles and leans in. "It smells delightful. It smells like..." but she stops with a sharp inhale, her expression morphing to shock as she looks up at him. "It smells!"
And now Stiles can't stop the tug of his own lips as he sits down beside her and picks up the teapot and a small strainer. "I hope I picked a good blend for you. My guy said it's strong, sweet, and floral with just an edge of tartness to let you know it won't be pushed around for long. It reminded me of you."
He'd swear she's blushing, but surely it's a trick of the light. Same with the glimmer in her eyes.
"How can I smell it?" Her gaze darts between the tea cup in front of her and Stiles' face as he finishes pouring her cup and moves to his own.
"Enchanted tea set, mostly. But I've been working overtime to level up my Spark, so apparently I'm finally strong enough to use it."
Still, he can feel the drain already, the way his body seems inexplicably heavier, like his blood is weighted down, the way the fatigue curls up in his bones like it's settled in for a long, cold winter.
He doesn't pay it any mind.
"That's really impressive, Stiles. I thought Deaton said it would be years before you'd have any control."
When he'd seen her at the winter solstice, that's exactly what he'd thought, what he'd been told. Then he found himself a teacher that was willing to push a little harder. Willing to bend the rules.
"I guess he was wrong," Stiles says. He sets the pot back down and leans in, changing the subject. They have far more interesting things to discuss than Stiles' Spark training. "What do you smell?"
"Earl Grey, mostly." There's something wistful about her expression. A melancholy sadness that he hasn't seen since the first time they met like this, maybe a month after she died. "Did you know that's my dad's favourite?"
"I didn't." Stiles spends more time with Chris now than he did when Allison was alive — frankly, Chris was a bit of a psycho back then — but they're usually researching the supernatural or fighting off whatever's trying to kill them. He's not sure he's ever just sat down to have a drink with the man.
He should.
Maybe after all this is over.
"There's...lavender, too," Allison continues. She leans in over the cup, eyes closed as she inhales the steam coming from the freshly steeped tea.
"Now I'm impressed," Stiles chuckles. The lavender is subtle. He's not sure he would've picked it out if he hadn't already known it was there.
She doesn't open her eyes just yet, but they crinkle up at the corners as she continues to breathe in the enticing aroma. And the longer she sits like that, the more content she looks.
"This is a wonderful surprise, Stiles," she says eventually. She also opens her eyes, a well of bottomless brown that bores into his soul. "Thank you."
A wave of his hand brushes off the thanks, but he can't keep the weight from his words when he speaks. "It's the least I can do."
"Stiles." Allison says. She reaches out, too, tries to cover his hand with her own where it rests next to his teacup, but it just passes right through him and the table alike and she's quick to settle her hands back in her lap. "We talked about this. You don't owe me anything. This wasn't your fau—"
"Anyways, it's not just about the scent." The subject change is glaringly obvious but they've had that conversation many times over the past two years and Stiles still can't quite accept that her death wasn't at least partly his fault. If he would've been stronger, if he could've found a way to keep the Nogitsune out, then Allison — the flesh and blood version that had her whole life ahead of her — might be sitting across the table right now, rather than this otherworldly spectre that no longer belongs in this world at all. He tries not to dwell on that, though, when they're together like this. This time is sacred. And he intends to make the most of it. "I'm not entirely sure this will work, but would you be up to trying something with me?"
For a moment, it looks like she's going to stop him, to tell him, once again, that it wasn't his fault, and that even if it had been, she forgives him. Instead, she offers a sad kind of smile and nods her head. "Of course. Colour me intrigued."
"Okay. So, according to my guy—"
"Your tea guy," Allison interrupts with a Very Serious Face and a twinkle in her eye.
"Yes. My tea guy." Stiles chuckles and reaches out to spin the handle of Allison's cup so it's a mirror image to his own. "Doesn't everyone have a tea guy?"
A sage nod from Allison. "Oh, of course. I was just double checking. Please continue."
"According to my tea guy, I should be able to help you drink this." Honestly Stiles still isn't entirely sure if this is a good idea, quite literally offering her a taste of something she may never have again. But during the last solstice, she'd mentioned how much she misses smelling flowers, tasting food and coffee and even her old lip gloss. This was the only thing he could find to maybe help with that, even if it's not exactly what she had in mind. "If you want."
"Oh my god, are you kidding me? Yes! Of course I want to try." She lights up like a damn Christmas tree, looking at him like he's her hero, and Stiles has to busy himself with the mugs when he can't find the courage to accept her gratitude. "But how does that even work?"
Their teacups are already perfectly aligned, and Stiles is grateful for the change of topic so he doesn't have to distract himself any longer. With the topic of magic at hand, he's able to meet her eye once more and explain, briefly, about a spell that can work in conjunction with the enchanted tea set, warning her that, unfortunately, and for reasons he doesn't quite understand, it only works with tea. He doesn't want her getting her hopes up for a cup of her favourite mocha latte next time.
He also doesn't mention that it will drain his power and likely knock him on his ass for days afterwards. Doesn't mention that he probably won't have access to his magic for weeks while his body recovers from tapping into a magic so powerful that it can transcend the veil between life and death.
She doesn't need to know any of that.
And since she only appears to him for an hour, at most, on the sunrise of each solstice, he figures he can hold it together long enough that she won't find out before she disappears once again.
Unfortunately she's always been good at reading him, and seems to know he's holding something back. By the time he finishes explaining the spell, her eyebrows are knitted together in concern, and she's absently biting her lip.
"Is it safe?"
The thing about the truth, Stiles thinks to himself, is that it's not definite. There's wiggle room. A grey area in the semantics and interpretation. So when he says. "Yep. Perfectly safe." He's not lying.
Because it is perfectly safe.
For her.
Which means when she studies his face, she doesn't detect a lie because there isn't one.
"Okay." With a nod and a sudden flare of excited energy, Allison is practically bouncing in her seat. "Let's have tea."
Stiles glances at the clock. It's already been ten minutes. At most, she probably has fifty left. He's hit with a wave of grief knowing their time is passing so quickly, but at the same time, the shortened clock is good news for him. Hopefully he can hold himself together until she slips away.
"Okay. Here goes."
The incantation is simple now; he's been practicing it for days without ever fully casting it, just to get a feel for the words, for the actions.
It's easier than he was expecting.
But as soon as it's cast, that draining feel from earlier increases tenfold, like his body is being sucked into a black hole. He ignores it entirely.
"Right. So we have to do this in tandem. Lift our cups at the same time, using the same speed. Drink together. I'm basically acting as a mirror between worlds so you can taste what's on this side."
It takes a few tries, a few times fumbling the cups just as they lift them from the saucers, but Allison is all smiles just being able to touch the handle, to hold something again, to feel almost tangible once more. "It's so weird. I can't actually feel the cup against my skin but it's like I know it's there? Kind of like when your arm falls asleep. Just without the pins and needles. Okay, let's try again"
By the time they finally manage to synchronize their actions, both of them are leaning in so they only have to lift it a few inches off the saucer. They're also both grinning like lunatics.
They get there, though.
And when they swallow that first sip of tea and a kind of pure joy radiates off of Allison, Stiles knows that all of this was worth it.
Despite the heaviness that's spreading through his body and pulling at his mind, he's pretty sure he's never felt lighter.
So they drink their tea and they talk about the past, reminiscing about the times they shared before the world upended itself and stole her away. Stiles even brews another pot for them once they finish the first, the conversation moving on to how everyone is doing since their last chat at the winter solstice. It's bittersweet, Stiles can tell, hearing about the others, especially her dad and Scott, but Allison is desperate for the updates. So he tells her that Chris has become a bigger part of their lives, that he's taken her code to heart and has become a genuinely good man, that he seems to have found love with Melissa.
Stiles isn't sure he's ever seen anyone look quite so happy and equally as sad at the same time.
"I wish I could've been there to see it," she whispers.
Not for the first time, Stiles wishes he could reach out and hug her. Instead he promises to pass on her love and tell Chris that she's happy for him. That she's proud of the life he's chosen.
The others can't see her, even now during the solstice. No one without the magic that Stiles inherently possesses can, unfortunately. But he knows they're all waiting for his calls, even now as the sun just barely breaks the horizon. He knows they're waiting to hear how the visit went, waiting for any messages she has for them.
And he knows they need to hurry.
He tells her that Scott has taken to helping...everyone who needs it, really, that he's becoming the Alpha he was always meant to be. He talks about Lydia, Kira, Malia, and Isaac and how they're all finding their places in the world. He passes on their love to Allison, small messages that they've asked him to deliver, and he jots down notes of everything she wants to say in return.
They laugh and they cry — well, Stiles cries, but it looks like Allison would be too of she had tears to shed — and they drink their tea until finally the cup slips from her fingers, through her fingers, to land on the saucer with a loud clink and small splatter of tea.
"Oh," she says, looking down at her hands.
The sun is only just starting to bring the kitchen to life but Allison is already beginning to fade, already being pulled back to darkness.
It's always the hardest part. Knowing that their time is nearly up, that it's time to say goodbye once more.
"But hey, at least we know this whole tea thing works." It's getting harder to keep smiling and talking, to keep sitting upright — Allison isn't the only one running out of time — but Stiles refuses to end the spell until she's gone. He knows he's probably going to pass out for a little once he does and he doesn't want to miss a moment with her. "Any requests for a different flavor next time? There's a ginger peach blend that smells amazing."
He'll find her whatever flavour she wants, even if he has to cross the ocean for it.
But Allison is leaning in and, somehow, he knows what she's going to say before she even opens her mouth. He finds himself shaking his head, just a little, like he can ward it off and keep her from saying it at all.
"It's time, Stiles. Time for me to move on, time to say goodbye." Her voice catches in her throat, a hitch that's far too close to a sob. "For good this time."
It takes biting down on his lip to keep from arguing, to keep from begging her not to go. Because he knows she's right. It's time for her to move on to the next big adventure rather than waiting in the darkness for half a year just to visit for an hour each solstice. It's not fair to her.
None of this is fair.
But when he finally speaks, it's with a mixture of acceptance and regret that makes his chest ache something fierce. "I'm gonna miss you."
"I'm going to miss you too, Stiles."
She's starting to fade and they both know they only have a moment left and there's so much left to say. So much that's bound to remain unsaid. In the end, it's Allison that makes the first move, pushing to her feet with that etched-in look of determination that he's missed so much. It takes nearly all the energy he has left and unleashes a white hot pain through his body, but he shakily stands up too, facing her for what will be her last words. "I love you. I love all of you. And I wouldn't have traded this life for anything else. I get to move on knowing that I spent my last year on Earth with the greatest people in the entire world. I don't regret it, Stiles. And I don't want you holding onto this forever. You need to forgive yourself. You need to let me go."
He doesn't mean to, but Stiles finds himself surging forward in response, wanting to tug Allison into a hug that says everything that he just doesn't have the words for. It's not until the last second that he remembers she's not really there, but it's in that space between realization and touch that a jolt of power like he's never felt before surges through his body like a bolt of lightning. And suddenly, she's in his arms and he's hugging her just as tightly as she's hugging him back, and he'd swear he can smell her coconut shampoo and feel her tears against his neck.
"Best goodbye present ever," she whispers, the words washing over his skin like a gentle breeze.
He doesn't get a chance to answer.
One second she's there and the next she's gone and Stiles is left standing alone in the kitchen with an enchanted tea set and the early morning sun washing over the counters like the day hasn't noticed that she's missing at all. It leaves him with a sense of loss and peace swirling around inside of him so deep that he's sure he could drown in it.
"Goodbye, Allison," he whispers.
Then he breaks the spell.
And hits the ground like a sack of bricks.
By the time he struggles even halfway to consciousness, the day is slipping into night. Someone's moved him to the couch and the entire pack seems to be gathered in his living room, quietly talking amongst themselves. There's an IV in his arm — clearly Melissa stopped by at some point — and the tea set is on the coffee table in front of him, carefully packed up and put away. His notes are there, too. His messages from Allison for all of them.
It's Chris who catches his eye, though, from across the room where he's standing alone next to the window. And while he still looks like he's seen more, lost more, in his life than anyone ever should, and although he's still carrying a sadness that leaves him worn and jagged, he seems more at peace than Stiles has ever seen.
And Stiles knows he'll be okay.
They all will.
So with a nod, Stiles closes his eyes and welcomes unconsciousness as it pulls him back under, giving his body and his Spark a chance to recover after being so fully and painfully depleted.
Because he knows when he wakes up that the world, his world, is going to be different. It has to be. Because Allison is no longer in it.
But he finally feels ready to face that fact, to let go and move on.
Just like Allison wanted.