|Stiles Stilinski (runswithwolves) wrote in wariscoming,|
@ 2014-05-15 15:56:00
|Entry tags:||scott mccall, stiles stilinski|
Who: Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall
What: Talking about...stuff.
Where: The house.
When: Thursday after school.
Rating: Highish -- references to death, possession, and suicide.
Stiles had been...in full on avoid mode since Scott had returned. It probably made him a terrible friend, but he didn't even want to look at himself in the mirror. Why would Scott? He knew Scott didn't blame him, really. Of course he didn't. He was Scott. But Allison was dead back home, because of him. And he didn't know how to cope with that. He didn't know how he was supposed to look at any of them.
He hadn't even lived through it yet. If the guilt was this bad now, how much worse was it going to be after he actually did? If any of them got sent home again, the damage there was completely irrevocable. It was enough now that he was seriously contemplating going to see Crowley. He wasn't sure if a deal in this world would even work back home. And the guy had refused the last deal he'd tried to make -- ironically, the same deal he wanted to make this time. His life for Allison's.
Ultimately he knew that her life was a lot more valuable than his own. Maybe Crowley wouldn't take the deal because he'd sensed that the deal wasn't fair to begin with. That it wasn't a fair trade. But maybe someone could, even if that someone wasn't Crowley.
All of his sudden emissary knowledge didn't cover this kind of thing, but he was still searching. There had to be a solution, a way to right things back home. There had to be. Stiles sat in the study at his desk by the window, staring blankly at his computer screen in front of him. Search term: Blood magic.
There was another option, a better deal that could be made, but one that he was almost sure wouldn't work. Some kind of temporal fold that would let him go back with all of the knowledge of what was to come, and put a stop to all of it before things got too bad. That would save Allison's life. Aiden's. All of the people at the station. At the hospital.
There had to be a way to make it happen. Those people didn't deserve to die because of his own innate weaknesses. Because of his inability to shut a door in his damn head. Because he'd let that thing inside of him, let it take him over to spare a stranger's life. He rubbed a hand over his face and opened another search box. Crossroad deals.