Bend The Rules , Stiles Stilinski ² ✓

[ 71 ] silver arrowheads

But how was she supposed to believe that when Allison died saving her? If it wasn't for her, she might still be here. If it wasn't for her, Chris might still have his daughter—the only family the man had left.

And so the two cried with each other, knocking down barriers as they realised just how much Allison had affected people's lives. Aspen had a real father figure in her life—and Chris felt he had one last family member t hold on to.

***

Aspen and Allison's father took a trip down to the lower floor of the apartment—the place Chris insisted her staying out of only hours ago. But Aspen insisted she wanted to see this part of Allison's world that she never got to see fully.

There were arrows, bullets, fire-arms and rifles everywhere. Aspen didn't feel threatened by them anymore though. She slowly walked through the room, her fingers skimming a couple bows and arrows she had recognised from seeing Allison use over time.

"Careful," Chris told her from where he stood, "That one takes some practice."

Aspen quickly removed her touch from the weapon, backing away from it.

"When Allison was learning, she had to bandage her fingers because they got so raw." Chris told her, "She wouldn't give up on it, though..."

"She never gave up on anything..." Aspen replied with a weak smile, "even me..."

Aspen's mind flashed back to when she was in this apartment earlier on in the day—before everything at Oak Creek. She remembered how Allison was down here working on something before she rushed up to see her.

And when she asked her in the car what she had to come downstairs and get—she said it wasn't important. Aspen's eyes narrowed in suspicion as she turned her head towards Chris, her mind spinning.

"What was she doing down here earlier?" Aspen asked, swallowing a lump in her throat at the thought that only mere hours ago—Allison Argent was alive and well.

"Uh.." Chris hesitated, rubbing over his face with the palm of his hand, "We—um, there's this tradition we have—"

"The silver bullet?"

"She wanted to make hers an arrowhead..." Chris told her with a weak smile.

But Aspen wasn't able to return it because her eyes were widening in a mixture of realisation and determination—determined to do Allison proud. Determined to honour her memory.

"Where is it?" Aspen asked suddenly with urgency.

"It's over here..." Chris replied, walking over to the station Allison was working at, "Why?"

"I have a feeling it's not there..." Aspen said with worry as she scurried through the artillery and weapons, over to where Chris pointed to.

The two of them approached the desk Allison had been working at earlier that day—in search of the singular silver arrowhead. But instead, they were met with an even more peculiar sight.

There were four of them.

"Why would she make four of these?" Chris asked in a confused murmur.

"She didn't..." Aspen's eyes fixated on the four silver arrow heads, her mind flashing back to the moment at Oak Creek where Allison fired an arrow into an Oni's chest and it disappeared into a cloud of black smoke,

"She made five..." Aspen said aloud in realisation, "she made the first one—then figured it out..."

"What're you talking about?"

"The silver—" Aspen said like she'd figured everything out, "It's—it's like a poison to them. Remember how you said your silver bullet broke the mask of one of them? What if—the silver has to stay in the body for it to kill them?"

"These four would've still been setting when the two of you went to meet Scott..." Chris replied, glancing down at the arrows.

"She did it—" Aspen whispered, this time, she couldn't help but smile proudly, "She figured it out... we can stop them."

"No—we can kill them."

Chris and Aspen then hurriedly picked up the arrows from the desk, placing them into one of Allison's many arrow-holders. But Aspen paused, falling still, as her eyes caught a glimpse of something else on the table—it was underneath where she had the arrows laid out.

A slip of paper.

Slowly, Aspen reached out a hand to pick it up, her heart skipping a beat as she looked down at it and read the words in black marker.

Aspen—I told you I'd find a way

With wide eyes, Aspen flipped the piece of paper over, finding more writing on the other side of it. Her breath staggered as her brimming tears started to fall down her cheeks again.

Agnes Epeler— (713) 4589 111

Dear Asp,
I know you'll think I'm insane, but I've been trying to find a way to save you from Okami for weeks. I can't promise this will work, but this is the number of a witch (don't think I'm crazy, you're literally a werewolf—of course witches can exist)
I found while I was flipping through old books I found with some of my dad's stuff. Next thing I knew, I was flipping through pages and pages of spells. There's one that says something about binding a spirit to it's host. I know it's not ideal, but you'd be in control of it. It would always be a part of you, but you'd have the power. If you find this note, please just give her a call. I think she lives in New Orleans.

Promise me, if there's no other way— please think about it.

I love you,
— A

Aspen's hand was shaking with the slip of paper in her hand. Even in death—Allison was still saving her. She wondered when she wrote this—was it right before they left— when she came down here to get one of the arrows? The way she wrote it, it's almost like...

"It's like she knew..."

Chris furrowed his brows in confusion, so Aspen simply passed him the note in her hands. She tried to process what it said—binding the spirit to her? Making Okami a permanent part of her sounded like a nightmare—but what if it's the only way?

"Epeler..." Chris murmured as he read the note, "It's french."

"Are you just fluent in the language or something?" Aspen joked lightly.

"Aspen—" Chris said, turning to her and darting his eyes off the paper, his eyes wide with either realisation or hope—or maybe both,

"It means spell..."

Aspen's eyes widened at the information. Maybe it wasn't such a stretch to think that witches were real—in fact, it made total sense. She was literally a werewolf with an evil fox spirit possessing her—witches sounded tame in comparison to that.

Aspen took back the note, folding it up and putting it in her back pocket. She held onto it for hope—she was going to make it out of this. She may become some half-wolf-half-fox hybrid of a mess, but it meant she'd live. And she made a promise to herself—she was going to live for Allison Argent.

With the silver arrowheads all in a carrier she now strapped behind her back, Aspen looked up at Chris with a weak but hopeful smile. She then followed him out of the basement, but just as she got to the door, she paused in her tracks.

She turned around to look into the room of bows and arrows one last time, her pale lips in a weak smile, as she whispered,

"I'm gonna do you proud, Ali."