Reversis

Stiles did not feel stronger, but he also did not feel like he was dying. He wasn’t spewing black fluids, he wasn’t hurting all over, but he also didn’t feel normal anymore. There was something off in his mind, but he figured that might just be the disease taking him over and the bite hadn’t done anything at all in the end. It was hard to sleep with the weird dreams that came and his father lingering around, watching him like he could die at any moment and not to mention Scott and Lydia calling every hour to make sure he was still alive.

He hadn’t wanted to tell Lydia, but Scott had done that for him when Stiles hadn’t answered her calls after the bite had happened. She had gone to the hospital and heard he was discharged and knew something was wrong. Going to Scott was all too easy because she knew how to get information out of him. And Scott hadn’t put up much of a fight in not telling her that he had bitten Stiles. Had he not been a werewolf, the vase she threw at him would have hurt a lot more. She was angry, but the Banshee in her realized that his death no longer weighed on her shoulders which eased everyone’s minds.

But only slightly.

It had been over two weeks since the bite and nothing had happened aside from peculiar dreams that he could not make sense of to save his life. Pun intended. The circles under his eyes were predominant and coffee had become his new life source. He was just thankful that school wasn’t in session due to Christmas Break otherwise he’d probably be sleeping in class and failing miserably. Staying in bed all day just seemed better. He could think in the quiet and watch as his scar from the bite faded as days went on.

It wasn’t until the night of the full moon in December that something even stranger happened – he dreamt of Allison. It didn’t feel like a dream but it didn’t feel real, necessarily. And it only added to the confusion over his odd dreams. She was crawling out of the ground, like a zombie would, but she didn’t look like she had been decaying for weeks and weeks. She looked ethereal, really. Pale in the moonlight, but just as he remembered. Perhaps a little too pale – translucent almost – but not see through like a ghost. It was odd, but he didn’t necessarily feel afraid. His dream followed her from where she had crawled out of her own grave and began to wander the preserve. It wasn’t aimless – he got a feeling she was there for a reason but he didn’t know what it was.

It felt like he was really watching her, like he was walking with her through the woods while she was on her mission to do … whatever it was she needed to do. As he followed along, she sharply turned as though she knew she had company and looked dead at him and it wasn’t until that moment that he felt paralyzing fear. There was absolute death in her eyes as she penetrated him through his dream. It felt so real, so chilling, that he awoke with a sharp scream and flailed off his bed hitting the ground with a loud thump. His father was there in seconds, flipping on the light.

“Are you okay?”

“Bad dream. Go back to bed, I’m fine.” As soon as his father left him, he collapsed onto his back on the floor and looked at the ceiling. There was something about it that did not make it seem like it was actually a dream but he didn’t want to tell his father that. He didn’t know how to explain it, didn’t even understand it himself.

The next day he went to Scott. He didn’t know what to tell him but he needed to talk about the vision or dream or whatever it was. Turns out, Scott needed to speak to him desperately, too. For a moment, Stiles wondered if his friend had accidentally hurt someone during the full moon with how frantic he had sounded on the phone but once he got there and was yanked inside, something told him that wasn’t it at all. He was tugged all the way up to his best friend’s bedroom with the door shut tightly before Scott uttered a single word.

“I need to tell you something and I need you to believe me and not freak out.”

“Why would I freak out? Are you in love with me?”

“Stiles, I’m serious. I saw something last night. Well, someone. Someone that I should not have seen.”

Stiles felt like the blood in his veins turned to ice. “Who?” He asked, barely in a whisper. He had a sinking feeling he knew what he was about to say.

“Allison.” Scott took a seat on his bed next to Stiles. “I know that it’s impossible. I know she’s dead.” He gulped and dropped his head into his hands. “But I was running in the woods, letting off steam and then I saw someone just walking along like it was the middle of the afternoon, out for a stroll. And it was her – it was Allison. I stopped immediately and she turned to look at me but it was like she had no idea who I was. And she was …”

“Extremely pale. Like you could see her bones through her skin.”

“Yes, how did you … Stiles, what did you need to tell me?”

“I dreamt this last night. I dreamt Allison crawling out of her grave, looking little fuller than a skeleton but still … I don’t know, still her kind of. And I saw her in the preserve and I felt her stare at me but it must have been at you.”

“And her eyes … bored into me … like …”

“Complete darkness.”

“What on earth does this mean? Is it real? Is it her?”

“I have no idea. I think we need to talk to Chris.” Stiles said, taking a deep breath. “He seems to know, well, everything.”



Chris decided he needed to see things for himself, so that night he and the boys took to the preserve to try and track where Scott had seen her the night before. It was nearing one in the morning when they had still found absolutely nothing and Scott and Stiles knew he must have thought they were crazy until Stiles’ phone went off, loudly, from a rather terrified Lydia. Apparently, she had a visitor of her own trying to break into her house.

Scott arrived first and couldn’t believe his eyes. It looked like Aiden, but then again he was a twin and figured it could have just as easily been Ethan, if he hadn’t been as pale and frightening as Allison had looked the night before. “Aiden?” He asked, stopping him from yanking on the door handle to where he slowly turned to Scott. The same darkness came from his eyes, the same feeling of death overwhelming him. “Aiden …” He held his hands up, but knowing now that it was the dead twin was something he wasn’t sure how to handle.

Thankfully Chris and Stiles pulled up in an SUV and jumped out. Chris had a gun raised, but there was clear confusion across his face. Stiles, looking upstairs saw Lydia in her window, panicking. Aiden looked just like Allison had looked last night – extraordinarily pale, frightening black, dead eyes. And there was an odd mark on the back of his right hand, something Stiles vaguely remembered on the back of Allison’s last night that he had caught a mere glimpse of, yet his brain recalled it as though he studied it for hours all the same.

“What … the … hell … is going on?” Stiles muttered, as Aiden watched them closely. He gave a snarl – not really a growl but more of an angered moan of despair and agitation, before he slammed a fist on the door breaking through and causing a large hole, and then ran away. He was fast – not as fast as Scott but the wolf was much too shocked and confused to follow.

“We need to talk to Deaton.” Chris said, loading back up in the SUV. “Meet me at the clinic in the morning. Stay with Lydia in case he comes back.”

The redhead had let them in, telling them that something inside her – the Banshee – had felt something off since the full moon. Like death had descended on all of Beacon Hills but there was a chill in her bones especially. And not just for herself, but for Stiles, too. As soon as morning came, the boys and Lydia met with Chris at the animal clinic and Deaton was already there as though he was expecting them. Turns out, he didn’t need a full explanation because he knew. He had seen Allison that night and was anticipating them.

“What is it? What’s going on?” Scott demanded.

“Have you ever heard of the Cold Moon?” The teenagers all shook their heads but Chris made no movement. “The Cold Moon is the full moon of December – it is the longest night of the year. Ancient Druids made notes of the Cold Moon having supernatural powers. It had the ability to bring to life certain … things. It was to right wrongs, to sort out misdoings. But, there are also stories of it bringing about something more sinister. They call them, Revenants. An old Latin word that basically means, ‘returning’.”

“So it’s really her? She’s come back?” Lydia asked.

“It’s her, yet not.”

“Please, be more cryptic.” Stiles said, earning a sharp elbow to his gut from Scott. "Ow."

“It is Allison in body, but a part of her is gone. She has become something demonic – reanimated due to her anger over a wrongful death. She has returned to right it. To punish the one she finds responsible.”

Stiles didn’t have to ask. He knew. She had come back for him. As had Aiden. For him and, clearly, for Lydia. He wondered if Allison would come for Lydia, too. The Banshee that should have seen her death and warned her. “So what do we do?” Stiles asked, the others clearly unable to speak with the given information.

“I know who to talk to. But, I’ll have to go speak to them face to face.” Chris said, sighing.

“Why?” Stiles asked. “They don’t believe in phones?”

“It’s disrespectful to call them for help. I’ll book a flight in the morning.”

“I’m coming, too.” Everyone turned to see Isaac walk in the door. “I saw her last night, too. I can leave and no one will notice.”

“It’s not a very safe place for supernaturals, Isaac.” Chris warned.

“I don’t care. I want to help. For Allison.”

“All right. Tomorrow we leave for France.”