Muse
It was harder to focus than it should have been. Apparently, they had the same thought since there was a crease between Lydia's eyebrows that spoke of similar frustration. Stiles' eyes often strayed to the one person he should not be focusing on at that moment.
"You reach out with your mind and feel the energy. Energy means life. Technically, I should be able to do the same thing in reverse. The lack of energy leaves a hole, a void. I already felt it once when we were looking for the Nemeton. It feels like everything around us is an intricate net of energies, and I'm looking for the small tears in it."
Stiles nodded. "You felt the lack of energy from the Nemeton. Maybe you can feel it as well when it comes to the possessed people. As always, your theory is brilliant."
Lydia scrunched up her nose. "Yes, but the Nemeton was such an enormous source of energy, it was easy to detect its loss. It was like looking at ruins. Less potent energy sources leave a smaller hole in the net. We are talking about a net that spans the whole town. I might not be able to feel a difference."
"You're right," Jackson agreed, avoiding eye contact. "You can't scan every person in this town. Not without knowing what to look for in the first place. A .... test subject might be helpful."
"No!" Lydia shook her head. "You can't ask me to scan my best friend for signs of death!"
Jackson looked at his shoes, not answering. Stiles was just glad that Lydia's outrage was not directed at him.
"It's to help her," Lea said, her arms crossed over her chest. "Maybe the demon has a similar death signature or whatever you want to call it. We need to explore this."
Lydia looked at Lea as if she wanted the ground to swallow her whole. The other Alpha had never dared to give a lot of input during their pack meetings, but it seemed that she had grown more confident in her role now. She had found her place. Stiles noted with a slight frown that it was beside Derek.
"We can't, and we won't force you," Derek amended. "But we need you to do this. You're our best bet."
"Lydia, please, I don't mind. I wish I could be of more use than just this," Allison said, going for the redhead's hand. She gave it a slight squeeze.
They shared a look that seemed to express so much more than everyone else around them was aware of, then Lydia sighed.
"Fine. Thank you, Allison, for your willingness to make the best out of a horrible situation."
She closed her eyes then and focused. Stiles imagined what she felt. Did she feel that Allison's energy was muted? It was like she was a humming bee that was trapped under a glass. He could hear her life energy flutter, but it was desperate, contained. And without freedom, it would die.
He almost wanted to turn away from the scene and play something on the piano to tune out that awful trapped humming sound. He didn't want to interrupt Lydia's concentration, however, so he didn't. He just moved further back to the wall, away from where they were all gathered in the living room.
When Lydia opened her eyes, they were glassy. She scrunched up her nose in an effort not to cry. Her throat was moving rapidly to contain the scream that was locked somewhere between her heart and her mouth.
"I feel like screaming. But I can't." Yet was left unsaid but felt by all.
Allison briefly closed her eyes, her face losing all colour. But she nodded, accepting the truth.
"So I might die."
Lydia shook her head. "No. You're just as alive as I am. But death is like a shadow that follows you closely. It's untimely, unnatural, and it feels that way. Maybe the intensity of that feeling varies depending on how much the infection," she grimaced at that word, "has spread already."
"That would mean that Allison is still in the early stages which would explain why she only experiences flares every now and then. As long as they don't happen more often, she should be fine, right?" Scott inched a little closer to Allison, his hands, while still at his sides, twitching.
"Our best bet is to keep her away from her triggers. If she stays away from Scott or Isaac, we may keep it at bay until we find the cure," Jackson thought aloud and earned a sharp look from Scott.
Isaac was making a face that told Stiles that he wouldn't protest that decision. While he logically must know that no fault could fall on her, he probably couldn't shake off the feeling of cold fury when he looked at her. Stiles looked to Lea and thought that Isaac's feelings, while uncalled for, made sense in a way.
He was glad when the meeting was officially over and he was allowed to play again.
He barely had enough time to look up and notice that Lydia was fixing him with wide eyes. They both felt the shadow looming over him, but neither said anything about it. She walked by and squeezed his shoulder once. They now had a secret, one that only the two of them could know. Death was following him as well. And it was wearing a familiar face, at least familiar to him.
His fingers glided over the keys. They were drawn to those certain keys to compose the haunting faded melody that always gripped a part of his heart and wouldn't let go. He knew it meant something.
We played it. We must have. A long time ago.
But the harmony was missing. He had forgotten the lyrics that went along with it. But the main melody was ingrained in his muscle memory. Void. Light. A feather from a pigeon that once was used to flying.
Stiles tried his best to find the right chords. The song was a washed-out memory he tried to clear. In his mind, he saw their old piano and remembered how his smaller hands had a hard time reaching all the keys. His mom's hand was on his shoulder as he thought about giving up.
I love it when you play for me.
He couldn't give up then. Not when it brought a smile to his mother's face. His hands would grow and the melody would be ingrained in them, would become a part of his very soul so he would never forget it.
But now, here he was with only a fragment of his soul left.
Furiously, he crossed out what he had come up with. Wrong! It was not the same! Something was missing, something that felt within reach if only he could grasp it. It probably would be easier to forget about it completely. Bury it somewhere deep within his unfocused mind. But it was something that connected him and his mother through the barrier of death. He couldn't let go of it.
Stiles was engrossed in his work, he didn't even notice that not everyone had left the room. He missed the way Danny's eyes lingered on Isaac as he left, the beginning of a smile tugging at his lips. Isaac, however, noticed and thought about returning that smile but since he could not manage a half-smile without going overboard, he decided against it. He didn't want to seem too eager. Besides, who would smile after the conversation they just had? A smile in a situation as dire as theirs could only be interpreted as flirting. Or as him losing his mind. Both were not favourable options.
A snort. "I can't believe you're scared of Danny."
Ready to snap at him, Isaac turned towards the speaker. "And who asked you?"
Jackson rolled his eyes. "Literally no one is afraid of Danny. There is just no reason to. The guy is good-natured and has a mild temper. He is too well-adjusted for his age and has his shit together. Ergo, he is not scary. So what are you really afraid of?"
A lot of things. The darkness closing in on him. The cold biting his fingers.
Isaac looked away. "This has nothing to do with fear."
"Hasn't it? Maybe you're right." Jackson shrugged. "Sometimes we hold on to something we know is unlikely to ever happen because of sentiment. What would I know about sentiment, right? But I know about how to avoid trying something that is actually achievable because it makes it too real."
Having said that, Jackson turned around and walked away.
***
That night Stiles tried not to think about what had happened in this very bed only a few nights prior. He tried and like all the nights before, he was not successful.
He turned around once again, beating the pillow in frustration but telling himself that he did to mould it into the perfect sleeping shape. He moved his feet so one leg was sticking out of the blanket. He moved again so the other was sticking out too. Then he tucked them both in again.
"You're keeping me awake."
Well, you're keeping me awake too.
"Sorry."
Stiles tried to stay still, but he quickly realized that he was in a position that was too uncomfortable to stay in the whole night. He tried to turn as slowly and quietly as possible, the arm under the blanket stretched out so that he could take the pillow with him.
He managed to do the turn without a remark from Derek, which he counted as a win, but then his outstretched arm hit the lamp on the nightstand. He cursed. The lamp fell with a ruckus.
"Stiles!"
He really should have noticed how close to the edge of the bed he had gotten.
"Sorry," he said with a grimace. He heard a sigh.
"Talk."
"What? I'm trying to sleep here." Stiles fluffed his pillow for emphasises.
Derek didn't answer so Stiles thought that the conversation was over. He turned the other side and closed his eyes.
A grip on his ankle made his eyes fly open. Grunting in protest, he was flung from the bed and landed in a heap on the mattress next to it.
"Hey!" He sat up and glared at Derek. "Rude!"
Unimpressed, Derek lay with his arms crossed behind his head and looked up out of the skylights.
"I didn't give you the bed to brood. You said you wanted to sleep better."
"Ha!" Stiles couldn't contain the grin. "You're one to talk! I'm only brooding here because the bed has probably absorbed your broodiness and is now influencing me."
Without even sitting up, Derek managed to give Stiles a push that landed him straight on his back next to the alpha. Stiles wanted to complain but then he noticed that the view was quite nice. He saw the stars and could almost imagine that he was outside.
"You overthink things."
Stiles barked out a laugh. "It's called having a plan. You should try it sometime."
"You need to have a plan for sleeping?"
"Well," Stiles sputtered, thrown off his course. "I didn't... I just thought this was a general observation!"
"It was."
Stiles huffed. "Brevity is the soul of wit, huh? You think that's why I can't sleep? Because I'm overthinking?" He mulled this over for a moment. "I guess that's the short version of it."
Derek's hand found his as they lay there stargazing.
"If you don't concentrate on the now, you end up missing out," Derek said then. "Look at this view. I think I can see the Little Bear. If you look closely, you can even see Ursa Minor Beta."
Stiles laughed. "Oh, yeah? Can you also find the Restaurant at the End of the Universe."
"Maybe," Derek said. "If I look a little longer, I might find it."
"I bet I can find it before you!"
"You can try."
Stiles drifted off to sleep with his mind full of stars and his head resting against Derek's shoulder.