It takes her a moment, a beat of deafening silence, to realize that his words were the words spoken out of her mouth seconds before that. For a second, she thinks she’s dreaming. After months of trying to make them hear her, it’s impossible that Stiles suddenly can. She’s lingered around the pack for months, dealt with watching them walk into bad situations. Granted, she did her best to help. But she can only do so much from this side. A shocked expression lingers on her face when she listens to him, swallowing hard.
“you can hear me.”
She doesn’t have time to dwell, or cry, even if she wants to. It doesn’t take a lot for her to realize that he can hear her. His facial expression are answer enough, and him repeating her words verbatim. She doesn’t have time to ask how, or why. Her only thought is that she doesn’t know how long it will last. It could be minutes before she’s forced to only stand by and watch.
“Tell them that my Dad just got back. Isaac is still in France, but my Dad’s here. Probably not for long, so they can’t wait.”
What else can she say? They wouldn’t believe Stiles if he said she was there. Every bit of her wants to say things to Lydia, to Scott, to remind them that she’s always there.
And then there’s Stiles. Who can hear her.
”These hunters. They like surprise attacks. Wolfsbane bullets are their thing. They also have people surrounding their building, so make sure you guys stay quiet.
If my Dad goes, which I’m sure he will, remind him to take my crossbow.
Or you take it. Stealthier way of knocking them out.”
She’s sure she sounds absolutely nuts, but there’s relief in her tone that masks the way she feels at knowing he can hear her.
She’s not alone.
”I missed you, you know.”
there really wasn’t any explanation for what was happening at this very moment – but Allison’s voice found it’s way back into his mind a few seconds after he spoke up, his mind going deaf to the questions shot his way from the pack once she began talking once more, his breathing halting – heart race picking up – his limbs beginning to tense as if he was bordering on the edge of some sort of panic attack; because something was definitely happening right now, and somehow, in some unexplainable way, Allison was in his head speaking to him –
Stiles could believe in a lot of things, but ghosts? it wasn’t something he certainly thought about, even with Death an apparent constant in his life – after the passing of his mother, he had wondered if he’d ever feel a presence of her around. if her supposed spirit would knock something over, or make a sound, or he’d catch a whiff of her perfume– anything to make him believe that she was still there. he got nothing though. just the overwhelming absence of a dead mother.
so ghosts were hard to believe in, even in the world he was currently living at the moment – people either lived or died. there was no real in between; but people could always come back.
( but Allison was still talking in his head, and she was giving warnings – as if she had been along for the entire ride they’d been having since her fall – as if she had been watching. )
head jerking up when he hears his name leave Scott’s mouth, his brow raises as he nods his head, understanding the silent request to continue —-
“Christ Argent is back. I don’t know for how long – but right now, he’s here, and he could be our only chance with getting an upper hand on these assholes. For the sake of this pack – we find him. We see what he knows. We ask for his help.”
there were expressions on their faces – ones that wanted to ask how he knew such things, but there were also looks of unwavering confidence in what he was saying. he was their guide for a reason, and despite a shaky past, they all had had years to figure out how to work together – and he always had a plan. this? this was the plan now. there was a heavy underlying promise of ‘just trust me’ hanging in the air that they all felt – and it was finalized. a mutual agreement spread through the pack at his words, Scott turning to Lydia as a discussion on how to reach Chris began to rise ——
'Out of all the heads to get stuck in, I'm sure mine is probably the worst. I don't know what's going on, Allison, but I can hear you."
( he was just thinking as one normally would, really —- but something made him feel as though it would work. and he believed it would, too. )
'I can hear you-- and we're gonna figure this out.
[ death, it seems, has a sense of humor. because when allison dies, there’s no blinding light. there’s no one to lead her to heaven or hell. it’s like going to sleep. easier & faster than sleeping, but more frustrating.
is it possible to be bad at dying?
her life, or lack of life, is what’s frustrating. because all she can do is stand on the sidelines and watch her friends. she watches them love, watches them fight other packs, watches them grow into the people they’re supposed to. even with her death, they grow.
it’s right, in a way. it’s what she wanted.
but there are moments, like the one she’s stuck watching now, where she wishes she had the ability to speak to them. to let them know they’re walking into a trap. instead, she paces. her arms are crossed, an annoyed expression clouding her face. ]
“How is it fair that I have to watch you walk into a trap? You’re my family and I can’t even warn you.”
[ she bites at her lower lip, hoping that maybe if she concentrates, and if she pushes hard enough, someone will hear her. maybe lydia. ]
“This is a horrible plan and you’re walking into a trap.”
[ the words come out like she’s singing them, huffing out an annoyed breath when they continue to argue about the best way to disarm these hunters. ]
”I know these hunters. They’re worse than Gerard. What happened to my Dad being on your side? Find my Dad. Do something other than signing your own death certificate. Please.”
This pack meeting wasn’t really getting anywhere ——– and Stiles had been, for once, generally quiet since the start. In fact, he had taken a liking to keeping his mouth shut while the rest of the pack talked over plans and decisions, pushing pieces together and solving problems that everyone could happily agree on; but this just wasn’t working for him. It was aggravating, and he could feel his body slump further in the chair he was sitting in, holding back a heavy sigh as they continued to argue. They’d probably deny that, but the expression on Lydia’s face at the moment said otherwise – and Scott looked slightly exasperated. In fact, he was sure the expression was being mirrored on a lot of their faces, seeing as they were all at their wits ends with the entire hunter debacle happening right now.
Stiles didn’t know what to do about them – mainly because nobody knew how they worked, and nobody had quite taken the step to go to the one person who probably would. The thought alone brought a somber undertone to them all, and Stiles couldn’t help it when Allison happened to briefly cross through his mind —— she had been doing that a lot more than usual lately; especially since they were dealing with hunters. Nothing like the Argents, of course – they were on a whole different level —— and completely ruthless. Stiles might be the pack emissary, but if he didn’t know how to appropriately handle the enemy just yet, he wasn’t of much help, was he? And it was moments like this where he wished that Allison was actually still around – and the thought brought a heavy feeling with it, a slight ache twisting in his chest as memories began to come back to him; ones that he did his best not to think on for too long when they did come forward.
He could still practically hear her voice in his head —- like it was as clear as day ——–
It took him a moment to realize that her voice was actually speaking in his mind; and an overwhelming rush of chills spread through him as she spoke, and part of him was positive he was losing it all over again… but then another was stalling, listening – taking in the other’s words without a hesitation in sight. So, maybe he was losing his mind a little bit and Allison had decided to become the subconscious voice within his head ————– weirder things have happened. There was something strange about the entire thing though, and Stiles could see Allison saying them as if she was sitting right next to him at that moment entirely alive and kicking and being apart of the pack meeting. Something was off, and Stiles was no fool to just stupidly act like it was nothing; but he was also smart enough to hear the common sense behind her words – the tone of voice ringing in his ears and causing another bout of chills.
Swallowing the odd thickness in his throat, Stiles finally cleared it out loud, feeling an odd surge of confidence at the words resounding in his mind. The eyes of his pack had all moved to look over at him, brows raised and a mixture or expectant expressions on their faces ——
“This is a horrible plan—- ( there went the expectant expressions ) and we’re most likely walking straight into a trap. We don’t know anything about these hunters, but they seem to know a good amount about us. We have to be careful. We—— have to be smart about this.”
In all honesty, calling Stiles wasn’t in her plan. Her plan for the night was to curl up in bed with whatever series she could find to watch on Netflix, ignore phone calls from her Dad and sleep. Not get the sudden urge to call a boy that she isn’t supposed to want to randomly talk to. A part of being friends with benefits, or whatever they were, was not talking randomly. It meant that they had a mutual agreement that they weren’t dating. Laying in bed and wanting to call him felt like a girlfriend thing to do.
She wasn’t Stiles’ girlfriend.
“Lydia wants to plan Scott’s birthday party. She called me earlier today, and I know it’s not for a month, but you know how she is.” She pauses, sitting up in her bed. A part of not being used to talking to Stiles on the phone is that she’s inclined to talk with her hands or give him the looks she usually does. Instead, she’s limited to just her voice. It’s odd, really. “But, I figured you could help us. Considering he’s your best friend and I only know him through you and Lydia.”
It’s not entirely the truth, and maybe she’s finding any reason to be around him, but he doesn’t have to know that. Whatever feelings she has for him, if that’s what they are, he doesn’t have to know about.
”Would he like Vegas?”
Stiles felt his brow quirk slightly at the mention of Scott’s birthday – wasn’t that awhile from now? Awhile as in a month, but still, that was around thirty or so days away from now, and he hadn’t even finished buying his best friend his gifts yet ( because yes, he got multiple gifts, and Stiles had been planning them out for months and it was taking forever to track some of these things down on eBay ) Should he honestly be surprised by this, though? It was Lydia Martin. She practically thrived on hosting events and making big deals about them; especially when it came to Scott.
Shifting to lean back against his couch, Stiles relaxed back into it, eyes flickering up to land on the screen of his television, Game of Thrones paused at a rather gruesome part that causes his brow to furrow just slightly in response before his body literally perked up at the mention of Vegas.
“Would Scott McCall like Vegas?”
Taking just a second to actually think about the question, a grin quirked onto the edge of his lips at the thought of his best friend in the scenario – but then it settled in a bit more, and Stiles knew instantly that that was an idea that definitely needed to happen. “I think he’d love it. Granted, anything Lydia does for him he’s going to instantly love, but Vegas… I think Vegas would do him some good.” Perhaps it wouldn’t line up exactly to what Stiles would imagine a Vegas trip between just the two of them would ensue of, it was still Vegas – and the good ole saying ‘What Happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas’ was a phrase he needed to utter at one point in his life.
"I give it the big stamp of Stilinski approval, personally.“
Her fingers hover over the screen of her phone, an almost annoyed feeling radiating off of her. She shouldn’t be this nervous to initiate a phone call.
“fuck it.”
The worst that could happen? Awkwardness. What was probably going to happen? Awkwardness.
But, no one ever said she made good decisions.
The second she hears him answer the phone, he starts talking.
“I’m calling for multiple reasons and for the first time none of them involve you being my date to a wedding. Interested or should I hang up?”
He had certainly not been expecting to see Allison’s name appear on the screen of his phone – a call a little random, seeing as it hadn’t really been that long since they had last been together. The first thought that ran through Stiles’ mind was did she really get invited to this many weddings? And the second was that he should probably answer it before she got his voicemail and most likely would not leave a message. Or call him back. ( she seemed like the type to do the whole one mysterious phone call thing. )
Swiping his thumb across the screen, he brought it up to his ear and opened his mouth to speak–
before he was promptly cut off by a familiar voice.
Blinking for a moment, mouth still parted with the greeting he hadn’t gotten the chance to give her dying from his lips and floating off to some unknown place to be forgotten about after a second of processing what she had said. Shaking himself a little, he sat up on his couch, nodding his head and then remembering he was on a phone – she couldn’t see him – and finally giving her a response.
"I’m all ears. Please, by all means, share your reasons for this random-yet-still-highly-appreciated phone call.“
”It’s not a party of death! It’s a party where we drink and pretend we didn’t just spend weeks almost dying. We get to be normal for all of a few hours.
Come on, don’t make me beg.”
“As normal as we can get, you mean? Because we’re not what most people would consider normal. Pretty far from it, actually, if we’re being legit. Like - here, right here, this is normal. And us? We’re all the way over here–”
He used his hands for emphasis here, spreading them apart as far as he could manage.
“Aw c'mon——
Alright. Fine. Just… stop doing that thing with your face.”
“A bad situation is death, not a party. And I know our track record with parties isn’t very good, but we need a party that doesn’t end with someone almost dying. Do this for me.”
“At this point, death and parties can co-align pretty significantly with each other. If I can use them in the same sentence; there’s a problem. You know what we should do with said problems? Avoid them at all costs. Which would mean not throwing a party—- of death.”
"Why can’t you just take my kidney instead? I technically only need one anyway!“
