Brother || Teen Wolf

Chapter 54 - Epilogue

Sitting in an old chair by the open window, Stiles suppressed a shiver. His old sweater did little to protect him from the breeze that made the curtains flutter, carrying the faint scent of pine wood inside. The sweet, earthy scent was far more pleasing than the acrid smell of chemicals that seemed to have seeped into the very walls of the room he was in, attacking his throat with every breath and making his eyes water. A leaf flew into the room, curling downward through the air before landing on the ground, soundless. Dust speckled around it, the dark brown leaf was a shard of nature inside a place that was so sanitized, anything that wasn't man-made immediately stood out. Yet Stiles didn't notice. 

His eyes were cast down, staring at his own hands as he twisted his fingers together, pulling at the sleeves of his sweater when they got caught in the movement. He had been sitting there a long time, so long that his feet were cold and his legs were starting to feel heavy, unused to staying still as they were. His throat was parched as well; he had been talking, yet received no answer.

Now that he was silent, the only sounds in the room were the wind, and a mechanical beeping that kept changing rhythm, never letting Stiles rest as he felt the need to monitor every flutter, every variation. He hadn't dared raise his voice above a whisper by fear of covering the restless sounds, as not hearing them would mean not being able to tell whether one of two his best friends in the world was still alive, or dead.

There was no other cue, no other hint, just that beeping that kept playing with his mind every time it got unsteady. It was ominous yet reassuring, a comfort and a threat. His ears kept watch while his eyes refused to take in the sight, preferring to focus on his own hands. The redness around his nails where he had pulled at the skin was easier to look at than his best friend, so pale, so weak. Stiles had seen him, when he had first entered the room, and the image had been burning inside his mind ever since. His friend looked drained, of blood and of energy alike, as there was no color on his cheeks nor on his lips; he seemed ghostly, as if the only thing keeping him in this world were the machines that surrounded him. 

Stiles had hoped talking would make him forget the sight, and so he had started explaining everything that had happened that night, repeating Scott's words and adding in his own. News of death and betrayal had seemed almost comforting in this setting, because at least they had happened to someone else. 

Allison was alright, besides losing her aunt. Scott was fine too, besides losing all hope of being human ever again. Lydia was getting better as well, with the nurses and doctors getting more hopeful with every visit. As for Stiles himself, well, he was as fine as he could be. He hadn't lost anyone. At least, not for now. 

Stiles cursed his brain for feeding him dark thoughts when he needed their exact opposite, but it was too late. Swallowing, he closed his eyes for a second, hoping for the tiredness and the thoughts to go away. The light seemed brighter when he opened his eyelids again, but that was just an illusion, a fleeting moment for his pupils to adapt; nothing had magically changed while he wasn't looking. Feeling his mind wander along darker and darker paths, Stiles decided to speak again.

Happier things had happened, like Allison and Scott finally reuniting. How they were willing to brave every social convention, face every threat just to be together brought a small smile to Stiles' lips. The hunters and the wolves had taken a vote and decided that it was time for a truce as well, making the future less stressful for Scott. That his other best friend no longer had to worry about taking an arrow to the chest every time he decided to go for a stroll through the woods made Stiles curve his lips into another smile.

There was a pause in the beeping sounds again. Stiles' smile immediately vanished and his head shot up, anxiously staring at the monitor. He felt like his own heart had stopped as well as he waited for the next sound, his breath suspended. A wave of relief crashed through his chest when the mechanical sound was heard again, its pace changing. The cycle was endless, and every time he started to relax, something like this happened, which was exactly why he had barely left the white room in almost two days, spending every minute watching over his friend who refused to wake up.

Melissa had told him that physically, Jamie was fully healed; that he should have woken up already. That had been the night before, right when she had forced him to leave the room to go home and get some rest, before he fell to exhaustion and needed a hospital bed of his own. He had convinced her to let him stay in the corridor and use one of the waiting room chairs as a bed. Seeing the look on his face, she hadn't had the heart to say no. Looking at the time, Stiles' eyebrows creased. Visiting hours were coming to a close and Melissa would be back soon, gently ushering him outside with words of kindness. So kind that he would feel like things were about to get better, that it was all just a bad dream about to end.

Stiles' chest suddenly felt smaller, and his eyes were burning again. Sniffing, Stiles turned his head towards the window, breathing in the calming scent of the woods. He knew Scott was out there, somewhere between the trees. He couldn't bear staying indoors, where Lydia and Jamie's scents were so strong, yet so distant. Scott hadn't taken the news of his friends' injuries kindly, and it had taken a lot of convincing for him not to rush to Peter's place and make him pay, make the former Alpha regret that Derek had spared his life in the first place.

The door opened behind Stiles and as he had guessed, it was Melissa coming to tell him to go home. He refused again and she didn't insist, instead leading him to the chair he had spent the previous night in. She had placed a big, blue pillow on it. Stiles would have hugged her if he hadn't felt so tired, mentally exhausted after his thoughts had taken him to places he didn't want to visit.

Sleep came to him quicker than he had hoped, and to his relief, it was dreamless. His light snoring made the nurses smile fondly as they walked passed him, one of them placing a blanket over his hunched figure. Soon, his slumber was deep, so deep that only a rough shake or a loud sound could wake him. As such, he was oblivious to the world when it happened.

In the middle of the night, Jamie's eyes suddenly shot open. A huge gasp left his chest as the cold air entered his lungs, lighting up his senses all at once. His heart thumped in his chest, the monitor that kept watch over him beeping faster than ever, deafening him with every heartbeat. As he felt a tingling sensation at the tip of his fingers, as he felt the soreness in his muscles wash away, Jamie understood what was happening to him. This was his heritage, a side of himself that Peter was responsible for and that had been suppressed for years, only now coming to the surface. 

When his eyes felt like they were burning, he guessed that they were glowing. What he couldn't guess was their color.

A bright blue, piercing and cold.