x x
"Our brother, Charlie. We had a brother."
The atmosphere of the abandoned warehouse swelled, Allison leering as Elora's tears continued to flow. An impossible look crossed Charlie's face, distorted in an unfamiliar way, but Chris had stayed silent.
"Allison vaguely remembers a story you told her when she was little," Fuzen announced, eyes directed at Chris. "Of why you couldn't bring her to see Grandpa when you were finished working, how there had been a "natural disaster" and that you couldn't go back for a while to Beacon Hills." The figure of Allison absently paced the warehouse's concrete floors, sighing flatly. "That natural disaster was Peyton Danielson."
"That natural disaster was you," Elora spat, her sorrow reverting to utter fury as she rose from the ground. "You took him from us. You let him die for you. Why should you get to live instead of him?"
"Because, brat, that's how it works!" Allison shouted, dark laughter rumbling in the back of her throat. "I was around before Christianity and I'll be around a lot longer than it. A single human lifetime is nothing - just like your brother."
Elora Danielson had persevered through the betrayal of Charlie, the Hale House Fire, the Dread Doctors' first visit, and even the Wild Hunt in Paris, but this - this broke her.
A primal scream echoed from Elora, eyes burning stark white as the world crashed down on her. Her entire body lifted off the ground, a surplus of unnatural power barreling from her palms as she lunged at Allison through the air, it an unknown lilac fire that had never been created by the young witch.
But whatever it was, it was born from pure anger.
Charlie hastily grabbed Argent's shoulder, the pair vanishing out of sight as Elora collided with Allison, the force sending them out of the open warehouse doors.
Moonlight poured onto their figures, the nogitsune's host coughing violently as the wind was knocked out of them. The disturbed dust swirled around Elora and Allison, the witch on top of Fuzen as she slammed a fist into her face, eyes returning to green.
Argent and Charlie ran out after them, Chris screaming for Elora to stop.
"Do it," Allison egged on, grinning through the blood seeping from her mouth. "Do it, Elora. Kill Allison. Watch another person you love die."
"I know that's what you want," El growled, hand clutching Allison's throat as she pinned her to the ground.
"That's exactly what I want," she spat, "because both of us know it won't do a damn thing to me."
"But this will," Elora whispered, lifting her hand from Allison's throat, instead letting it hover over the center of her chest.
Allison's eyebrows immediately furrowed, busted lip bleeding as her host began to tingle. "What are you doing?"
"I'm killing you, Fuzen."
Elora's hand skimmed slowly above Allison tracing up her body with an all-knowing look in her eyes.
Deep brown eyes widened, the brunette staggering for breath as she began to cough.
"Don't fight it," Elora hummed, traces of a smile on her lips as a steady palm hovered over Allison's neck, going up and up until -
A buzzing emerged from Allison's throat, a last cough sending a glowing light from her body.
Elora held the seemingly yellow orb suspended in the air above Allison, the teen lapsing into unconsciousness.
"What the - what the hell is that?" Charlie asked, voice timid for once in his life.
The witch made no move to answer him, instead reaching down and cupping the firefly in her palm. And in a sharp movement, she squeezed, a purple flash bursting from within.
Elora stood from over Allison, unfurling her fist to release a plume of dust. "It's dead." She motioned with only one finger, Allison's body rising up from the forest floor. "Let's go."
"I'll carry her," Argent said, voice wavering as he walked toward his daughter.
Allison lowered softly into Chris' arms, Charlie and Elora joining him on either side. Together, they joined hands, placing a palm on Chris' shoulders.
Then they left the warehouse behind, 2,500 year old remains finding a grave among the dirt.
x x
The Argent apartment downtown bore a surprising silence, soft hums of Allison's unconscious breaths filling its interior. Soft shuffles of feet littered empty breaths, hidden among the limp walls of the minimal home.
Elora sat at the edge of the hallway, back pressed against the doorframe of Allison's bedroom with her head down on her thighs.
A light murmur rattled from Argent's office, familiar tones of Charlie and Chris seeping into Elora's headspace no matter how loud her thoughts grew.
The witch ran a hand along her face, sighing into her palms as she dragged them down a solemn expression.
She wasn't sure how to move on - where to go from the valley she had been thrown into.
On a hundred different levels, everything was wrong.
Allison was unconscious after the nogitsune left her, Stiles was still hiding Yakunan from everyone but her, she mourned a brother nearly a decade after she lost him like it was yesterday and old enemies were looming in the distance.
"Why didn't you tell us?"
Chris' voice murmured from the next room, "It wasn't my place to say. Your parents charmed nearly everyone, especially people they couldn't trust to keep quiet. They wanted to protect you, your sister - your cousins."
"They didn't want us to remember him? To love him? They took a brother from us."
Elora rested her head back on the wall, able to hear them perfectly, even when they whispered for her sake.
"The nogitsune used your brother - your wonderful, gracious brother - like a puppet, and killed people with his hands. It was too much. Fuzen was too much. They did what they thought would be best for everyone."
"They let me stay emotionless, Chris. I'm not this person-"
"They couldn't reverse it -"
"I nearly got them killed! I spent 5 years imprisoned and hated by the Council for something I didn't really want to do."
"Stop. Stop. Stop talking," Elora finally shouted, hands on the side of her head. "Just stop talking."
And they did.
But Allison, however, started.
Elora lurched up at the sound of the huntress' voice, scrambling back into the bedroom. "Allison?"
Lit by only a dim lamp, Allison's bloodshot eyes opened. Her mouth had run dry, but her lips moved softly. "Wh-where is she?"
"Where's who, Al?" Elora asked, sitting at the edge of Allison's breath.
Chris and Charlie skidded into the room at the sound of Al's voice.
"Fuzen. Where is she?" Allison asked, trying to sit up. She had been healed from the wounds El had left, but a soreness coated her existence.
"She's gone." Elora put a hand over Allison's, softly running a thumb along her knuckles. "She's dead. She can't hurt you anymore. She can't hurt anyone."
A tear etched down Allison's cheek, unable to create words as she hugged Elora tightly. She kissed El's cheek before burying her head into the witch's shoulder, warm tears flowing onto the fabric of El's shirt. "Thank you," she murmured. "Thank you."
El wrapped her arms around Allison, tears brewing in her own eyes as she squeezed her.
"Do you," Allison pulled away, putting her hands on El's face, "do you know about Peyton?" She rested her forehead against Elora's when she nodded, both of their faces damp with tears. "I'm so sorry. He loved you so much."
"Honey," Chris softly said as he came toward the bed, "how long was Fuzen with you?"
Allison let go of Elora as she wiped her face with her sleeve. "I'm...I'm not really sure, to be honest. Time was...different with her. It was as if I knew she was there, but I couldn't say anything - I couldn't tell anyone."
"But you weren't having blackouts or memory lapses," said Charlie. "That almost always happens."
"With young ones," Chris told them. "The older they get, the better they know how to hide within the host. They can be fully cognizant while the host goes about their day, able to manipulate their actions if they wish. They'll wait until the moment is right to takeover."
The right moment for Fuzen happened to be in the middle of a near naked make out session with Charlie.
On that point, however, both Charlie and Allison stayed quiet.
"She would talk in the back of my head," Allison said. "I don't know if it was intentional all of the time, or if I always knew what was happening, but it was like I could sense her hosts before - as if she took a piece of them with her each time Fuzen changed bodies."
"That's how you knew about Peyton."
Allison nodded to Charlie's words, "And about how she spelled you to hate your family." Her eyes flickered to Elora, "Can you fix that? Is it possible?"
"If my parents couldn't, I'm not sure if I can," El replied. "The Council, maybe. It would be a long shot." She rose from next to Allison, wiping her eyes. "I'll look into it after I check in with Stiles."
"You're going?" Allison asked, soft tints of longing parading in her voice.
"Yeah," El lightly said as she reached down and squeezed one of Allison's hands, "I need to make sure Stiles is doing all right."
"What happened to Stiles?" questioned Allison, brows furrowed.
Charlie held a hand up mildly, "I'll catch her up. Go see him."
They don't know he's the other one.
And instead of warning them, Elora vanished from Allison's bedroom with an icy sting, catching her footing just as she connected to the concrete pathway leading up to Beacon Memorial Hospital.
Her movements were quick - not allowing her mind much room to wander as she made her way into the building.
Few looks were casted in her direction by the night staff, no one surprised by the tear stained cheeks in such a place.
Elora continued past the nurse's station, a trick of the eye letting her go by unseen. She was well past visiting hours as the day blended into tomorrow, but she couldn't wait.
She knew where Stiles was without any verbal confirmation - she could sense him so strongly she was sure he was a part of her.
El turned the corner of a private wing, hesitating sharply as she caught a familiar figure slumped in a chair outside of Stiles' room.
Stilinski had called him Parrish, but she knew it wasn't right. It was incredibly far from right.
Elora walked slowly toward the end of the hall, removing the sound of her steps from the air as she passed the sleeping deputy and went into Stiles' room. She shut the door behind her and sealed the room from any sound escaping.
She knew he looked peaceful from the outside - and that his sleep was drug induced - but on the inside, he was likely screaming.
Yakunan didn't seem like the type to cut his host a break, especially after keeping him locked inside his own head for hours.
Elora sat at the end of the bed, careful not to hurt his toes - some still radiating off the cold they had been subjected to. She rested an arm on one of his legs buried beneath tan cotton, unsure if she should wake him.
He'd lost so much sleep - so much of his sanity - and she was about to deprive him of more.
Just as she had raised a hand to wake him up, she was struck with how similar to Peyton he looked.
El shoved the thought away, locking it out of sight as she waved a glowing palm across his body.
She wanted to take Yakunan from him - to free Stiles from the burden - but her link to him would stop any such thing.
"Stiles?" El asked as his eyes began to shift under his lids. "It's Elora."
Stiles' open mouth closed, the teen humming for words as he came out of his sleep. "Elora?"
"Yeah, it's me," she said, squeezing his hand.
"Are you my knight in shining armor?" he asked, words mildly slurring together. "Because I feel like a damsel in distress."
El couldn't help but grin, "You're definitely still you."
"Sometimes," Stiles quietly replied. "Is Deputy Doody still outside?"
"He's asleep but he's still there."
His eyes flickered across Elora as he adjusted his body in bed. "Something's wrong. What happened?"
"Fuzen is dead. No one else knows there's another, but I'm sure you knew," said Elora. "Maybe not consciously, but I think Yakunan-"
"Another nogitsune?" reiterated Stiles in question. But with only a blink, something clicked. "Allison."
"She's okay now," El assured. "Fuzen is dead but Allison is just fine."
"Are you...are you going to kill mine?"
"I can't," she miserably told him. "He made sure I wouldn't be able to, but Charlie might. It'll take some time to figure out."
Stiles lightly nodded, "Something we don't have."
"Understatement of the century," El agreed. "So what's the plan with you in here?"
"They want to do an MRI and a CT but they can't do it until tomorrow morning," said Stiles. "They're keeping me here until then and Parrish stays outside until my dad gets back."
"Clearly he's doing a good job of watching you if I could sneak in here." Elora earned a grin from Stiles, convinced the world was okay for five minutes.
But they didn't have five minutes, or four or three. They didn't have any time at all.
"Why were you crying?" Stiles asked, concern rooting from the heart.
"Maybe I'll tell you when you're not hospitalized. I -"
The room door creaked open too fast for El to disappear, caught in a flashlight's rays. "Who the hell are you?"
"I called her," Stiles hastily lied to the deputy, able to make out his uniform in the light. "I asked her to come."
Deputy Parrish lowered his flashlight, not commenting that Stiles had been dead asleep since Melissa had jabbed him with a sedative nearly two hours before. "Visiting hours are long over, miss."
"I was just leaving," Elora replied, squeezing Stiles had with a minuscule glow to lull him back to sleep. He needed all the rest he could get.
Parrish followed Elora out of the hospital room, turning off his flashlight as they reached the dimly lit hallway. "Were you in the station earlier? When Stiles was reported missing?"
"Yeah, that was me." She felt unnerved as she spoke to him, utterly confused. "Sorry about the weird looks."
"Why - if you don't mind my asking - were you so weirded out by me?" Parrish asked, only lightly smiling.
El hesitated, "You just remind me of somebody I knew as a kid."
"Really?" he asked with a charming smile. "Who?"
Should I say it?
"I know I'm not from around here," Parrish said, "but I'm curious to know."
"Uh," El began, "Camden Lahey."
And with that, the deputy collapsed.