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Deaton had stepped in when things became bad. He'd told the Scott, Stiles' father and Chris Argent that both Stiles and Allison would benefit from some time away from Beacon Hills.
Neither of them had wanted to go, but both of them had known they needed it. Still, leaving Beacon Hills behind, leaving their family and Scott behind, it felt wrong. It felt like running away from their responsibilities.
Scott had sat them down and calmly said "I have my Mom, Isaac, Derek and both of your Dads, it's OK." Neither of them had been convinced, because they all entered into this together. They were strongest together, the three of them.
Scott had pleaded though, and both of them shared the same weakness when it came to Scott. "I draw from you guys more than you know, so go; heal and recover, and then come home to me. It's not forever."
They settle on Berkeley, knowing they can get home in an emergency quickly from there. It still feels wrong though.
-- - --
Stiles doesn't see that much of Allison to start with. It's nice she's there, but they live in different buildings and they're studying different things. Stiles goes out with his dorm mates a few times, and they're OK but they're not Scott, and doing this without him somehow doesn't feel right. College was always something they were going to do together.
Mostly Stiles focuses on his studies -- he reads ahead, prints off journal after journal and spreads them all over his bed, loses himself in them. When that doesn't work, he goes out with the guy next door -- who is always up for a party -- and gets wasted. Sometimes he even manages to sleep.
Nineteen days in, Stiles is laying in bed with the TV on at a dull hum -- It's 3am but sleep doesn't feel like it's going to pay him a visit any time soon, it rarely does -- when there's a knock on his door. He'd figure it was just drunk freshman, but it's somehow not that kind of a knock, it's both urgent and soft at the same time.
When he opens it, he finds Allison standing there in her PJs and dressing gown, a pair of converse laced onto her feet though, because years of having to run for your life means putting on sensible footwear is a thing that comes as automatically as breathing, even if you're just popping out to get milk. Monsters don't wait for a convenient time to fuck your shit up.
Stiles rubs at his eyes and takes her appearance in properly; Allison looks pale in the gloom of the slightly green tinged corridor light, and she's shaking slightly.
"Oh god, what's happened? Is it Scott? Has something happened? Did he call?" Stiles can feel his heart hammering against his ribs, he knew they shouldn't have come here, Beacon Hills needs them. If anything's happened to Scott because they effectively ran away...
But Allison just shakes her head fiercely, and oh, then Stiles understands. "The dreams huh?" he asks quietly, "yeah, yeah those are a bitch that don't get any easier with time." He moves to the side and gestures for her to come in, and she does.
Stiles sits on the edge of his bed, leg tapping against the floor, while Allison just stands there, her arms wrapped around herself.
"Wanna talk about?" Stiles asks, slightly awkwardly.
Allison shakes her head again, "God no," she tries for a laugh, but it's an ugly strangled sound and Stiles feels his chest clench in sympathy.
"Well my roommate won't be back tonight he's, and I quote, 'boning the living hell' out of his girlfriend apparently, nice guy that he is. He made it sound like they were attempting to challenge the Guinness World Record or something, so..."
Allison gives a small but genuine smile at that, and it's as if it slowly thaws her out. Her shoulders relax slightly, and her smile grows a little bigger.
"We can watch some horrendous late night TV? You can take Steve's bed if you want, although I can't vouch for it's cleanliness, or we can share?" Stiles chews on his bottom lip, because him and Allison are rarely alone together, they've spend a lot more time together since everything changed, but Scott's always been there between them; their common ground. Without him, Stiles isn't really sure where they stand.
Allison eyes the other bed then looks back at Stiles, "Sharing, definitely the lesser evil," she informs him with a soft half laugh.
They watch TV from under the duvet. Stiles doesn't remember falling asleep, but when he wakes he can feel the solid warmth of a body curled against his, and it's nice.
They don't talk about it.
-- - --
When the dreams come, Allison screams and screams. In the first four months she changes roommates three times because none of them can take it. Eventually she's given a room of her own. She's not sure if that's better or worse.
When it happens to him, Stiles never makes a sound. For him, it's more like a night terror. Stiles will open his mouth to scream but nothing ever comes out, his body locked stiff, frozen in a fierce terror that will leave his muscles aching and his jaw bruised the next day.
-- - --
After a month and half Stiles packs up an overnight bag and starts sleeping in the empty bed in Allison's room. He goes back to his own room every morning, but this way neither of them have to sleep alone, and when it happens there is always someone else to offer comfort. Sometimes even when the dream don't come they still end up sharing a bed, those are the nights they both sleep the best, drawing warmth and comfort from each other, creating a safe space carefully sandwiched between their bodies.
Allison makes him promise to wake her when it happens to him. He doesn't the first time, but she loses it the next morning when she finds him pale and sweaty under the blankets; shouting at him and hitting him with a pillow before pulling him into a fierce hug. Stiles doesn't ignore her request again. It's a welcome relief.
His roommate thinks he's going steady with someone and Stiles doesn't bother to correcting him; because how could he even begin to explain? This way the fact he never sleeps in his own room isn't a big deal.
-- - --
The longer they're away the less nightmares they both have. They are always lurking though, ready to catch them off guard. It's a cold night in early December when Allison wakes with a scream on her lips and Stiles; Stiles can't get up to hold her, to try and ease her out of her fear, because he can't move, still trapped in his own.
Allison stumbles across the room, her voice hoarse when she calls his name, "Stiles, Stiles, come back to me." He feels her trembling hands run up and down his back, forcing the muscles there to finally un-clench and he flies up the bed, gasping for air.
"We have to go back," he manages, and she nods, gets to her feet, and starts throwing things in a bag. At times like this her focus and resolve leave him feeling a little ashamed of his lack of control over his emotions.
They drive back together, both of them in Allison's car. It's dark and the roads are quiet. Neither of them really knows what to say, they don't want to talk about the elephant in the room, what they saw. Neither of them mentions the way the darkness inside grows so much vaster when they cross the boundary line back into Beacon Hills; the way it hits like a blow to the chest, knocking the breath out of them.
The pull up outside Deaton's when dawn is breaking; Stiles struggling to keep his panic in check and Allison's knuckles bone white where they're locked around the steering wheel, even though she's turned the engine off.
Scott is almost healed when then walk in, but it doesn't stop both of them from running to him and throwing their arms around him, whispering things like we're sorry, we never should have left you, you should have called us.
It's only later that Stiles realizes just how much of an 'us' him and Allison have become.
They stay the rest of the weekend, they want to stay properly, but Chris, the Sheriff and Scott refuse to consider that an option.
"This is the first major thing that's happened since you left, I promise, it's been really quiet."
-- - --
After that they drive home together most weekends. Sometimes one of them will have too much work and will have to stay, but one of them always goes home, embraces Scott tightly and watches and waits for any signs of trouble. Then drives back and reports to the other. It means the dreams become a bit more frequent again, but somehow it seems to help with the darkness. Stiles suspects that whilst Beacon Hills makes it worse, the three of the being together makes it better.
When exam season arrives and getting home is hard, Scott comes visits them. He never stays long, but it feels so good to see him that both Stiles and Allison shine a little brighter in the days that follow.
Stiles doesn't really believe they'll manage this; staying at Berkeley, graduating like normal kids. Stiles is forever waiting for the moment when the proverbial shit hits the fan and they have to go back to Beacon Hills for good.
-- - --
Stiles and Allison move out of dorms and get a place of their own. When the dreams come they seek comfort in each other's arms. Gradually, as the months go by, they both start to breathe again.
Going home for the summer is both a blessing and a curse the first time.
The second time summer rolls around, hot and heavy, it feels easier. Entering Beacon Hills doesn't seem to trigger the sinking feeling it did. Driving back in, Allison laces her fingers through his and murmurs "home again." And it's OK. Scott is waiting for them with a wide smile and open arms, and both of them allow themselves to maybe believe they can do this.
There are more incidents, some of them particularly memorable; the homicidal Chimera that torches half the forest before Derek, Scott and Isaac take it down with the help of Deaton's store cupboard -- they both wake choking on phantom smoke that night -- but Scott calls them and promises them it's fine, he's fine. It seems Scott, Isaac and Derek have found a way to work well together, finally.
Then there's the time Lydia phones them and tells them, in a stricken voice, that they need to go home. They don't ask what she sensed would happen if they didn't. They pack up and go, and it's an arrow -- made from mountain ash and dipped in clove oil -- from Allison's bow that brings down the actual Hydra that has been lurking in the sewer system just before it sinks it's razor like teeth into Scott's neck.
-- - --
Somehow, miraculously, the world doesn't end and time keeps plodding on. They both graduate, they laugh, they toss their hats in the air and they hug, clinging to each other that little bit tighter than anyone around them, because whatever it means to the others, it means so much more to the two of them.
It's been 14 weeks since either of them had a dream, they still share a room, and sometimes a bed.
They don't talk about it, this new found peace that seems to have finally settled, but both of them are somehow lighter and more alive for it.
They take their time packing up their flat, to say goodbye to their safe haven.
Stiles sits in their room, contemplating how things are going to be different when they return home. Everything will change; some of it for the better, some of it for the worse, but he knows they'll find a way through.
Allison runs her fingers over the kitchen counter and remembers rushed breakfasts and relaxed evening meals, just the two of them. Glances over at the sofa where many movie marathons occurred.
They drive back in separate cars, each one jam packed with belongings. Stiles lets out a small sigh when he sees the 'Welcome to Beacon Hills' sign, driving past the high school and heading for his house, but it's OK, he feels stronger now. His Dad pulls him into an all encompassing hug, and Scott shows up while they're still unloading his jeep.
-- - --
Later that night Stiles lays in the darkness. The sound of Allison breathing softly has been his constant companion, and now it's gone. But he knows she not far away, and they're both back where they belong now.
His phone rings while he lays there, he answers with a smile but doesn't speak.
"Night Stiles," Allison's voice echoes down the line, so familiar to him now.
"Night Ally," he murmurs back, and then he falls asleep with his phone pressed to his ear.