Yours (Stiles Stilinski)

Chapter Forty Five

"Stiles, please, please wake up," I whispered in his ear. I gripped his hand in one of my own, and held his face with my other. I closed my eyes. "Alright, Deaton. This empathy thing— I swear to god, it better work," I muttered to myself. Stiles laid in my arms outside of the Jeep, motionless. All I could smell is smoke, and the light from the Jeep seemed to blind me, my ears were ringing, and I was overwhelmed.

"Each of us will hold you under until you're essentially... well, dead. But, it's not just someone to hold you under— it needs to be someone who can pull you back, someone with a strong connection to you. A kind of emotional tether," Deaton's voice played in my head. I took a deep breath.

"Emotional tether. Alright, let's do this—" I repeated over and over to myself. I closed my eyes, and felt warmth leaving my hands. I opened them and saw a sort of golden color light up from in my veins. I closed my eyes again, pushing more. I heard him take a deep breath, but I kept going.

"Y/n— Y/n, that's enough!" Stiles shouted, pulling away from me. I opened my eyes and saw Stiles looking at me with wide eyes. I let out a sigh, as I fell back against the Jeep. He shuffled back over to me, holding my shoulder, pulling me to him.

"You're okay," I whispered, my eyes watering. He nodded against my shoulder, pulling away for a moment.

"What— what was that?" He asked, looking down at my hands. I looked down at them, and they were bright red. I brushed my hand over his head, where blood had dripped from a wound. It had been mostly healed. I took a deep breath.

"Deaton was right," I murmured. Stiles stood, pulling me up with him. I stumbled, but he steadied me. I looked ahead. "We need to go that way," I said, nodding into the forest. Stiles reached into the Jeep, grabbed the metal bat he'd taken from my house. We started making our way into the forest.

—

We rushed towards the Nemeton. The tree stump looked desolate, and the sky was blackened.

"Run!" I shouted. I saw the ground fallen in, and I gulped, hoping my friends and family were alright. Stiles and I slid under the caved in ceiling.

"I can't do it! I can't hold it! I can't hold it! It's too much!" I heard Isaac roar.

"It's too heavy," Allison groaned. Stiles and I nodded at each other, and I shoved him before me, diving into the hole after him. I held our portion of the ceiling up with my back as Stiles jammed the bat under it, holding it up. Stiles came face to face with Mr. Stilinski. They stared at a moment before the Sheriff smiled at his son.

"...I always said aluminum was better than wood," he said, and Stiles tackled him in a hug. I looked around, seeing that the ceiling was still crumbling. I felt something then, my arms began to ache. I looked around, and Stiles looked back at me from his Dad. I began to crawl away, out towards the opening.

"S—Something's wrong— Scott," I whispered. Stiles grabbed my arm.

"Y/n? Y/n!" My mother called. When I opened my eyes, it felt like split vision. I was standing in front of Jennifer Blake, who was standing in a Mountain Ash circle.

"Scott?" I said in a mixed voice. We spoke as one. Jennifer looked at us in confusion.

"What?" She demanded. I looked back and saw Derek staring at us in confusion as well.

"I need your help," I heard Scott's voice in my head. I walked forward, but something was pushing me— pushing us back. I closed my eyes again, and I felt Scott's body glow. — Our body?

"Concentrate," I said to him. We pushed, and I saw Scott's foot go through the barrier. I grimaced as I tried to give him everything I could— any bit of strength or willpower I could muster. Whatever was left. Through this weird ass bond— I lent him everything.