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When it was all said and done Stiles felt like screaming until his throat was raw. In the end he'd managed to keep somethings, some people, safe. As safe as he could manage. A clever trick here and there while the Nogitsune made plans within plans.
When it was all said and done and the smoke cleared he stared at the body of Derek Hale and felt a tugging in his gut, a deep tearing feeling tore through his body. This man, this wolf who had claimed to barely stand him, had sacrificed his life to save him.
Derek Hale was a hero and Stiles almost wished he could take back every snarky comment he'd made about the guy. But he couldn't, his guilt was like a weight, heavy and pulling, tearing his insides apart even further every time something reminded him of Derek.
He could see the same lingering expression in Scott's eyes, even Isaac's. They'd see something simple, a reminder, and the pain would start anew.
When he woke up in his own body - when he woke up the only occupant in his own body he saw his friends surrounding him. A mixture of fear and hope that he was sure he didn't deserve – the hope, not the fear, he knew he deserved to be feared, to be hated and tossed aside with yesterday's trash.
Stiles' memories were jumbled, moments of clarity – a kiss, and more – in a basement to find solace with a girl who was just as lost as he was. His memories were buried and some he can only grasp like water not quite tangible, like he was looking through his past through a dark and dirty glass.
He thought his lack of clarity might be a blessing. What he couldn't see in his own mind he could see etched in the lines and dark circles on his friends faces.
---
The first thing he remembered seeing when his eyes were finally his own eyes again was them. Malia and Lydia, both their gazes locked on him and he knew it was a tightly wound tether that pulled him from the darkness, or at least – helped him stay as close to the light as possible.
It was Scott whose arms wrapped around him first, he remembered that with clarity. He knew now that Scott was trying to block his view of the twins looking broken over Derek's body. Lydia had told him later that Derek had gotten the Nogistune inside himself and then begged the twins to kill him – Kira had ended up being the savior when the Nogitsune took control.
He was glad he blocked that memory out, he was glad he hadn't paid attention to the details of the how or the why. Why?
His father's arms were the most comforting thing about that day. So many sets of eyes had bored into his back, questioning and wondering. Fearful. Chaos, Pain, Strife. He was an expert now. He could still smell each one distinctly, clinging to the skin of the family he had made for himself.
Stiles wondered if he was marked, irreparable, and damaged now. If the darkness around his heart had spread even further, entrenching itself into each limb and weighing him down.
---
He slept for three days when it was over. He woke with the smell of a familiar shampoo in his nose and strawberry blonde hair tickling his chin. He doesn't know why it surprised him when his dad's quiet voice chimed in.
“She's the only one I couldn't get to leave,” his father told him.
Stiles just nodded and pulled Lydia closer to his chest. His memory of the institution and dark brown hair and a girl with a broken smile tugged at him. Solace in a place where he had no allies, during a time when he had no hope. He didn't regret it but this was what felt like home. This was home.
He had a doctor's appointment today. Everyone had told him they were sure that his MRI and the damage to his brain, that damage that was exactly like his mothers, was a result of the Nogitsune. Stiles wasn't so sure. In fact, he had fear in the shape of the Nematon sitting in his veins. Maybe he was always suppose to die. Maybe he still only had a few months left. Maybe Scott would offer to turn him if that was true and if it was, would he turn it down again?
Stiles wasn't sure.
He hadn't even realized that he'd fallen back asleep until he felt Lydia's body stirring against his.
“Hey,” Lydia breathed tiredly.
He looked down to her, seeing the dark circles around her eyes that he desperately wanted to take away. He desperately wanted to believe he hadn't been the one to put them there.
“Hi,” Stiles said to her, marveling at her face, “you're still here.”
Lydia nodded, “I'm not going anywhere.”
“Why?” He asked, his voice far more broken that he wanted to be. He was the wit, sarcasm was his defense but now he was vulnerable, laid bare before her eyes – before anyone's eyes who dared look close enough (he thought only Lydia and Scott were willing at this point).
“You're Stiles,” Lydia said simply.
“I don't know what that means,” Stiles said quietly.
“It means that you are an insane guy who puts himself in danger every day to save his friends. The guy who runs towards a crazy alpha werewolf whose attacking a girl on a lacrosse field. You're the guy who brings a bat to a fight with werewolves cause you refuse to stand by and let bad things happen. You're the guy who steps into a puddle of gasoline and says 'if you go, you're going to have to take me with you. You're the guy Stiles. You're the heart, and that's why. That's the why for everything.” Lydia said to him, her voice more earnest and sure than he's ever heard, at least since she learned of all this.
Stiles wished his eyes weren't wet in that moment cause he didn't feel like the guy who would risk everything to save his friends, he felt like the guy who orchestrated horrible plots to cause the people he loved most intense pain and immeasurable grief. He felt like the guy who might belong in a place like Echo House now, for real this time.
“For everything?” He asked her, his mind wandering to Derek.
“Everything, you were always worth saving Stiles. Always.” Lydia responded.
“Derek ...” He started.
“Derek finally grew up, he finally saw what was worth fighting for, what was worth saving. He realized that it wasn't about power, not the kind that can be taken,” Lydia interrupted, her voice sure.
Stiles was about to respond when he heard Lydia's phone go off. She reached over to check it and sighed, “Malia's been asking about you, she came through, helped us save you.”
He wasn't sure what he heard in her voice but he looked at her and nodded.
“You can call her if you want,” Lydia said offering him her phone. He took it for a moment and then set it back on the night table.
“I think I just need to be right here, right now,” Stiles breathed, “You don't have to stay with me.”
Lydia scoffed and her eyes narrowed at him. “I told you Stilinski, I'm not going anywhere.”
Stiles met her eyes and somehow he felt as though he could hear something else, like a voice in his head that sounded like Lydia's. A jumbled mess of words, ohmygoddontmakemeleaveialmostlostyouicantloseyoupleaseplease. But it just as easily could've been his own voice in his head.
“Okay,” Stiles said, pulling her closer. “Good.”