SILVER ARROWHEADS
NUMBNESS was all she could feel. She expected to feel some agonising pain, or to feel like her heart had just been ripped out of her chest. But she simply felt numb. There was an empty feeling deep inside of her mind and soul— the part of her that had died along side Allison Argent.
As she sat in the Sheriff's office that night, the questions being fired at her were blaring into loud ringing— as her eyes focussed on a random floorboard, hardly even blinking.
She'd seen people die before. She'd lost people close to her before. Her adoptive parents, Peter Hale— even Jackson Whittemore (though he survived.)
She wasn't a stranger to death— she was practically a beacon for it.
But she'd never experienced a loss quite like this one— where she felt like a piece of her had been carved out and crumbled in front of her.
"Aspen?" she heard the faint voice of Deputy Parrish over the loud ringing in her ears, "Aspen— can you remember anything else?"
"Aspen— listen to me!" Chris tried to snap the brunette out of her frozen trance, his hands on her shoulders trying to shake her into her senses.
"Look at me—" Chris continued, and when Aspen finally blinked and her eyes landed on Allison's father, he told her, "You have to remember you called me first, okay? Say it— you called me dad first."
Aspen's blood felt cold, she could hardly get her body to listen to her mind after what she'd just seen, she had no idea how her father was keeping it together.
"I— I called you first..." Aspen whispered shakily.
"No— not 'you'— say you called her dad first, or Chris— or Argent."
"I-I called her dad first..." Aspen recited in a hasty voice.
"What else?" Chris pressed, "What happened?"
"T-there..." Aspen stuttered, "there were t-two of them... they tried to steal our car— and they were... they were wearing masks... one of th-them had a knife..."
"You think they had a knife," Chris corrected her, "don't get specific. You saw something sharp and metallic— you think it was a knife. What do you always repeat if you get confused?"
With tears still running down her cheeks as her sobs came out silenced, Aspen replied,
"It happened so fast..."
"That's right," said Chris, "now say it again. Aspen! Say it again—"
"How are you doing this?"
Aspen's sudden change came out as a broken whisper, her tears eyes looking into Chris' blue ones which looked like they'd failed to shed a tear yet.
"It's what we do..." Chris replied, more like he was trying to convince himself of the fact rather than Aspen, "we learn to... compartmentalise our grief— it's what we do..."
Aspen heard nothing but denial and excuses from Chris' lips. His own daughter had just died and he wasn't shedding a tear— he was bottling it all up for everyone else's sake— but he didn't have to do that.
"Chris..." Aspen whispered, "this is different... this is— was Allison."
Snapping out of the memory she played back in her head, Aspen's eyes shot up off the ground to look at the deputy in the chair in front of her, waiting for her to answer the question.
"I'm sorry," Aspen said to Deputy Parrish, "It just— it all happened so fast..."
***
Everyone felt like Aspen and Stiles were on a ticking timer—especially themselves. Their bodies were cold to the touch and the dull ache all over soon turned into a not-so-dull one.
Scott, Lydia Ace and Deaton were trying to figure out a way to trap Stiles' nogitsune—but trying to find a way to save Aspen was proving harder. Ace was heavily injured—but still refused to let it bring him down. The slash he had taken to the stomach from the Oni's blade was weakening him—and maybe soon, it might kill him. Or maybe—there'd be a way to fix it all. The odds of his survival was truly a fifty-fifty.
Meanwhile, Aspen had followed Chris back to his apartment. She knew he was bottling up all of his grief and he probably planned on letting the bottle shatter when he was all alone—but she wanted to make sure that he wasn't. No father should be alone while grieving a daughter like Allison Argent.
"I appreciate the concern, Aspen—really, but I'll be fine." Chris tried to brush her off as they stepped foot into the apartment, "I've dealt with this before—I have a capacity.. and ability—to compartmentalise my emotions..."
Aspen stood by the doorframe, looking solemnly at Chris as he held his head down. Seeing him like this took away a part of the numbness she was feeling—replacing it with unmeasurable grief.
"I don't..."
Lifting his head up, Chris' bright blue eyes locked a gaze with the girl who was like a sister to his own daughter. He once mentioned to Derek that he felt like he was supposed to see Aspen as a second daughter because of that—and right now, he did.
A gentle sob escaping Aspen's lips, she walked up to the Argent man and threw her delicate arms around his tall frame. Aspen and Chris' relationship hadn't been the smoothest of roads. But now, as they both united in a shared grief—the two people in this world who were the closest to Allison—they let go of any remains of the bad blood between them.
Aspen closed her eyes in defeat as she felt Chris finally let go. He let out the tears and cries he'd been holding back this whole time, as he returned the hugging embrace to her. As she heard his grieiving sobs, she tried her best not to feel responsible. She tried to remember how Scott told her she didn't choose this life—that none of it was her fault.
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."