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They take her body to the lake house. The less people who know, they figure, the better. Derek and Lydia read the words - something more ancient than Latin, darker and lost to time. They direct Scott and Isaac from behind a dusty book, tell them what to say and how to say it and which arteries to cut. Derek keeps reminding them that this will have consequences, that upsetting nature's balance always does as it constantly seeks to right itself, but he doesn't try and stop them either. He must know they're beyond reason now. In this moment, the only reality is these four walls in this cold basement in this empty house where everything echoes. In this moment, the only reality is the body of the only girl any of them have ever loved lying in front of them, growing colder by the minute. So they chant. So they sing. So they spill their own blood for the umpteenth time that night without a second thought. And when Derek tells Stiles to roar while the dark stain of the nogitsune still lingers within him, he does. And when he tells Scott and Isaac to howl into each other's mouths - the Alpha's Kiss, it's called - they do. And when he tells Lydia to scream until she can her Allison's heart start beating again, she does. He watches them do it, watches them howl, watches these children ruin themselves, and all he can think is, "I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness/Starving, hysterical, naked." Starving for their hero's return. Awake, awake, martyr queen. And she awakes, spitting cold blood, eyes glowing violet. The rooms falls silent; they are afraid. She likes it; she's hungry.
"A succubus," Lydia whispers, awed, hands outstretched towards her but not quite touching her, like she's afraid she'll burn.
"Do you like me this way, Lydia?" Her voice is not her own. It's sweeter than before, and it sounds like music - a little like hymns, a lot like a funeral march.
Scott feels something in his stomach twist, hard, like a hot knife. Jealousy, terror. She's beckoning Lydia, her lips still slick with her own blood, and Lydia's practically sick with desire - Scott can smell it.
"Lydia," Derek calls towards her, watching in horror as she crawls towards Allison in the middle of the room, "Lydia, stop, she's not herself!"
But Allison is already pulling Lydia towards her, sweeping the hair off her face, pulling her into her lap so that she's almost straddling her. Lydia's breath hitches as Allison slides a hand under her skirt but her skin is turning pale and she's swaying dangerously. She's starting to fall just as Derek reaches out grabs her, tightens his grip on her as she struggles against it. Her skin is cold to the touch and her pupils are blown - her heartbeat is erratic and every wolf in the room knows it.
"Please," she screams, uselessly hitting Derek again and again, "Please, just let me help her! She's so beautiful and she's starving, she's starving, don't let her die again!"
Stiles is watching from where's he's huddled, silent and shaking and wrapped around Scott, and he knows - Allison is in there, possessed not by demons but by hunger. This really is her - this is just the her so desperate she'll say and do anything to survive. He wants to tell Scott but he can't. He can't say anything; he's too afraid it'll all just come out as a scream.
"Allison," Isaac whispers from his corner of the room.
She turns toward him. "Do you want a turn, now?"
Stiles feels Scott's grip on his arm tighten.
"C'mon, Scott," Isaac says to him, "We heal; we can handle it, and she needs to eat."
**********
And this is how they keep her alive - with burning lungs and bruised mouths and aching hands. Chris doesn't approve, but he owes them everything, so he'll never say anything. Allison is herself when she's full, but when she's hungry she's unrecognizable - they give her everything anyway. Stiles and Lydia can only touch her for a few minutes at a time, but they take what they can get. She loves them, of course, but as far as energy, they're just snacks to her. It's Scott and Isaac she really feeds from. The boys who heal and can handle her - the last people she fucked, the last people she loved before she died. This is how they keep her alive - naked as Eden and sicker than the snake. Pupils blown as the moon and double as deadly. Hotter than a fever dream and more than mad.