Beautiful Redemption ━━ Teen Wolf [3] [Completed]

EPILOGUE ( iii ): MY DEDICATION TO YOU

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EPILOGUE, THE FINAL CHAPTER (PART THREE)

     MY DEDICATION TO YOU

NOT EDITED (7/15/2021)

❝ A Japanese legend says that if
 you can't sleep at night it's because
 you're awake in someone else's dream. ❞
― anonymous, tumblr

( vi. de-void )

   She heard 'you're not my son' and the crack of the silver handcuffs crank, then they moved in. The Nogistune stood in the middle of the loft's lower platform, the dimming sunlight streaming in from the windows brightening his dark figure, highlighting how the skin he was wearing replicated the boy she was half in love with by the age of sixteen. Derek, Argent, and Allison quickly surrounded the Sheriff, posted to limit the spirit from escaping. Tate remained behind, his clasp on Clara's wrist firm as he slowly approached the lower-half of the room. Yielding behind the protective shield he seemingly wanted to place her under, the teenage girl remained half-behind him, though her body nearly collapsed at the sight of Stiles. Methodically, his face was the same ― his eyes the same ones that nearly drowned in tears when she said goodbye to Beacon Hills in what seemed like a lifetime ago ― but his gaze was no longer soft. It was harsh and cutting, like a steely-sharp knife, heightened by the red bags that dragged underneath his eyes and the pale reflection of his skin. This wasn't her Stiles, she reminded herself with horrible realization, but when their gazes met ― his connected with hers immediately, as if he could sense she was in the room, like when a dog catches a scent or a lion looks up at the sound of distant pray ― he seemed to brighten at her presence. 

   God, she wanted to reverse time before the sacrifices of her three best friends were made, before she was locked in a vault for months, before she even left town. She wanted to scream, I would have left Beacon Hills and never come back if it meant my participation didn't make any of this worse. 

   Clara hoped through her own dreary eyes that her internal pleading could be heard; perhaps a little bit of her friend was in there, a little bit of that heart of gold and selfless attitude that she had at one point thought was just asking for someone to take advantage of to something she had grown equally fond of. Maybe Stiles could fight from within whatever chasm he would stuck in. If that possibility existed, the Nogistune didn't allow it to show; his eyes honed and glazed over with amusement as he tilted his head up, staring at her unbridled. The only thing that drew his almost loving regard away was the movement of Allison coming from around. 

   His tired glare followed her, as if just looking at Allison made him exhaust with weariness, but still he made no movement to back away as she lifted up a starkly black tazer. Confidently, she pressed the button without hesitation ― but before the string of electricity could touch the center of his chest, one of his hands whipped out to grab it. His other hand joined, twisting the thin line could eventually, Allison could hold on anymore and the small device went flying into the air. A roar erupted from Derek, his fangs out within a second, and as the man charged forward, Clara saw the boy-like monster reaching for his shoulder. The Nogistune yanked his arm backwards, the former alpha grunting in pain, before his back was reared backwards and Stiles threw the man across the room. Derek's body slammed against one of the wooden poles and landed on the hard exterior of the floor.

     The click of a gun made everyone pause. 

     Everyone's focus amassed forward; Argent's hands were firmly holding the brass firearm Clara dreaded seeing him hold moments before. Clara's breaths seemed to stutter, her hand reaching up to grip Tate's forearm, fastened in a moment of panic. Tate slowly retracted the girl's clasp on him, gesturing up-and-down to remain calm, as he slowly moved forward. The Sheriff reacted first, his hand reluctantly rising forward, as if scared he was startle the hunter into pulling the trigger. But she could see the tension hindering the back of his neck, the muscles of his face; he was restraining the terror that had unexpectedly built inside of him. Clara was trying to do the same, as was Allison, who she was eager to slither and hold on to. She needed something to balance herself, but her feet were glued onto the floor and she couldn't move. God damn it, she needs to move forward! She needed to rush forward and get in front of Stiles, before a bullet entered his head; but the fear was paralyzing and she just couldn't.