Initials

Scott took a step foreward as another soon-to-be senior signed her initals in marker on the shelf. It was tradition, the night before juniors became seniors they would go out late at night, move all the books from the same shelf as had the juniors the year before, and sign their initals, siginifying their trasition into their last year of high school. The girl in front of him finished, and Scott stepped forward. He took the sharpie from her and looked down at the metal shelf, all the initals and all the histories. He was sure the librarians had come across this shelf but had decided to let it stay, pehaps recongnising the significance and letting the tradition go on. As long as Beacon Hills High had been here, there had been seniors signing this shelf. It was a small part of something bigger. Scott leaned down, adjusted the marker in his hand, then wrote his initals: S. M. Scott McCall.

He was about to turn around and pass the marker behind him when he remembered her voice. He paused. Allison. She had been a Junior along with him, but had died before becoming a senior. She had been his first love, and he still remembered the ache that he felt when he looked in her eyes. He remembered their first kiss in the locker room,  the moonlight shining through the window, her laugh and her smile. They had sacrificed everything for their forbidden love, her father a hunter and he was the prey. She was from a family of hunters, werewolf hunters. When Scott had met her he was a new wolf and thought it was impossible and yet, they persevered. Late night sneaking out and leaving secret messages. All for love. One day, it happened and they were no longer dating, though they were both still in love. When she had discovered her family's history she had been shocked but soon accepted it and joined them, hunting him. There was a time when she worked as mercilessly as the others, but she soon came to realize who she belonged with. Allison wasn't always there, but she was there when they needed her. That night at the police station. She was a natural with a bow and arrow and when the time came to choose she found where her loyalties lied: with Scott and his pack. Without his pack being entirely werewolf, they weaker than the other pack and having Allison on their side had been a gift from heaven. Then, that one fateful night came. The Oni, freeing Stiles, Kira and her sword, it was all a blur. The only thing clear in his mind was Allison. She had been there when they needed her and had saved Isaac. Just after the Oni disappeared she had smiled one of her last beautiful smiles but when Scott rounded the corner all he could see was Allison's body hunched over and the Oni's sword through her stomach. They disappeared afterwards and Scott had ran to her and held her in his arms.

"It's okay. It's perfect." She had whispered. "I'm in the arms of my first love. The first person I've ever loved, the person I'll always love. I-I love you Scott. Scott McCall." 

She had exhaled her last breath that night. Scott had cried, holding her in his arms, blood staining her teeth and her beautiful eyes forever closed. He'd weeped over her body and hugged her close one last time. She had been such a big part in his life that he hadn't known what to do without her.

And so, repositionning the marker in his hand, he leaned foreward once again and wrote another pair of initals, the initials of a warrior who couldn't make it to her ceremony.

A. A.

Allison Argent.