Derek and Stiles arrived at the morgue quickly. Peter was waiting anxiously for them at the back door.
"Quickly, come on. Where are the other two?"
"Not answering. What's so urgent-"
"In here," he ushered them in and showed them to a door at the end of the hall. "Brace yourselves. Mostly Stiles,"
"I'm braced," Stiles sighed. Peter opened the door and Stiles realized he was not at all braced for what he saw.
"A-Alison?" Stiles stammered.
"Nnn," she groaned.
Alison was laying, dirty and ragged and pale, on a metal slab. She was rolled up in a sheet and had her eyes closed.
"She hasn't spoken much. But she IS alive, I made sure,"
"What did you do?" Stiles whispered, walking slowly toward his not-dead friend.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Peter smirked. "I owed a favour for that incident we had,"
"You mean when you tried to turn him?" Derek muttered.
"Yes, that. She didn't take much to fix, really,"
"This is some American Horror Story shit right here," Stiles whispered, looking down at Alison's face. "Ali?"
"Wha-aat?" She groaned, rolling over and opening her eyes. "Hi Stiles,"
"You're alright,"
"Where's Red?"
"What?"
"Ly-yida. Peter said,"
"That is why I requested the other two. Need someone to help her walk. Stiles drives, I get the Hell home so Janie doesn't know I was here, and Derek just stands there and looks pretty,"
"Lyydiaaaa," Alison sighed again.
"We're gonna get you to Lydia, honey," Stiles shushed her. "You grab her, i'll drive, Peter leaves,"
Derek nodded and picked up Alison.
"Wee! Hullo Derbearrrr," she slurred.
"Is she drunk?" Stiles asked, squinting in confusion at Peter.
"She asked for it!"
"Did she really?"
"Jack Daniels warms the soul,"
Stiles considered that and then shrugged, following Derek out.
"She does like Jack,"
"Why did I need a shovel?" Derek asked, setting Alison in the back of the Jeep.
"I need that to fill her grave. Water's for her. Towel's to clean her off,"
Derek tossed the shovel to him.
"Thanks, Peter," Stiles said, turning to him.
"I owed you a favour," Peter waved Stiles off.
"Thanks," Stiles said again. He then hastened to the car and pulled out of the morgue. "You alright, Ali?"
"'M fine. Lydia,"
"We're going,"
"I feel strange,"
"You were in a hole,"
"Oh yeah,"
"What did Peter do?"
"I dunno,"
"Whateve it is, i'm glad,"
"Me toooo," she sighed, rolling her head to the window. "Can see Lydia again,"