❛ It's not right, but it's too late for that now. Swallow fear and head straight into the ground. ❜

SEASON 2, EPISODE 11
battlefield

STILES AND SCOTT had been through the mud with Blair and Dillon then were dragged through it again with Matt. It had been less than two weeks with everything going on, and it felt like everything was crumbling around them. Laurel was dead. Blair and Dillon were being prosecuted with murder, with the initial hearing to be announced.

⠀⠀⠀The Gallaghers were staying in a hotel because their house was completely ruined in more than one way. Then, on top of that, Scott and Stiles figured out Matt was the one controlling Jackson. A blood bath erupted at the Sheriff's station. Matt kept everyone there as a hostage, Scott's mom now knows about the supernatural, and Matt was killed by Gerard Argent.

⠀⠀⠀It had been a lot like they said.

⠀⠀⠀And now, they were sitting out on the field for their lacrosse game to start. It felt like they had entered some warped reality being out there, geared up and ready to play a stupid game when there was a war raging on around them.

⠀⠀⠀"Your dad coming?" Scott asked, trying to relieve the tension that had settled between the two.

⠀⠀⠀"Yeah, he's already here," Stiles said, looking over his shoulder to find his dad in the stands and pointing to him. Then his brows raised in shock to see Willow sitting beside Scott's mom while staring at her phone.

⠀⠀⠀"I didn't know she was coming," Scott muttered.

⠀⠀⠀"Neither did I," Stiles replied, thinking the same thing, and turned back to the field. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small good luck charm he kept with him always, and flipped it between his fingers as they continued to talk.

⠀⠀⠀"You seen Allison?" Scott asked him.

⠀⠀⠀"No, you seen Lydia?" Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow.

⠀⠀⠀"Not yet."

⠀⠀⠀"You know what's going on?"

⠀⠀⠀Scott sighed, "Not yet."

⠀⠀⠀"It's going to be bad, isn't it?" Stiles asked, feeling his chest tighten and the edge of tears at his waterline ready to fall. "I mean, like people screaming, running for their lives, blood, killing, maiming kind of bad?"

⠀⠀⠀"Looks like it," Scott admitted, feeling everything Stiles had just voiced in the air, suffocating them.

⠀⠀⠀"Scott," Stiles sighed, leaning his elbows on his knees, and he bent forward, staring at the chip in his hand like it was the last thing he had left to his name. "The other night, seeing Willow in the hospital, and-and then my dad get hit over the head by Matt, you know, while I'm just lying there and I can't even move, it just—" he paused, staying in his uncomfortable position but turned his head to stare pleadingly with Scott. "I want to help, you know, but I can't do the things you can do. I can't—"

⠀⠀⠀Scott looked at him, but it was only pity behind them, and that wasn't what Stiles wanted. Because Scott could do the one thing, Stiles couldn't. Protect the people he loved.

⠀⠀⠀"It's okay," Scott tried to reassure him, but it felt forced, like he didn't know what else to say.

⠀⠀⠀"We're losing, dude," Stiles admitted, a feeling of exhaustion wash over him as he shook his head.

⠀⠀⠀"The hell are you talking about?" Coach asked, appearing behind them suddenly. "Game hasn't even started. Now, put on your helmet and get out there. You're in for Greenberg."

⠀⠀⠀"What?" Stiles asked, looking over his shoulder to him and shoving all the feelings he knew Coach would call him a baby for having down his throat. "What happened to Greenberg?"

⠀⠀⠀"What happened to Greenberg? He sucks," Coach spat, holding his hands out in front of him as scales to demonstrate the balance between Greenberg and Stiles. "You suck slightly less."

⠀⠀⠀"I'm playing? On the field? With the team?" Stiles asked, actually excited because this was the one thing he had wanted since joining the team. The thing he had been so excited for a few months ago but had to drop because of Peter Hale. Maybe, for one night, things could be okay, and he could feel like a normal teenager again.

⠀⠀⠀"Yes," Coach rolled his eyes at Stiles' dramatics. "Unless you'd rather play with yourself.

⠀⠀⠀"I already did that today," Stiles admitted. "Twice."

⠀⠀⠀"Get the hell out there!" Coach yelled at him, and the two ran onto the field as they laughed together like old times.

"WHY IS MY son running out to the field?" Mr. Stilinski suddenly asked, catching Willow's attention from where she had been staring blankly at her texts from Laurel.

⠀⠀⠀Willow turned to look at Mr. Stilinski first as he looked out at the field in concern, then she turned to look where Stiles stood with a wide grin across his face. Willow allowed herself a small smile to edge on the corners of the lips as she watched him talk animatedly to his teammates. He had wanted this for a long time.

⠀⠀⠀Ms. McCall, in between the two, looked over at Mr. Stilinski and smiled widely at him.

⠀⠀⠀"Because he's on the team?" she stated with the statement leaning more toward a question at the end to tease Mr. Stilinski.

⠀⠀⠀"He is," Mr. Stilinski said under his breath in realization, eyes growing wide. "He's on the team. He's—He's on the field. MY SON IS ON THE FIELD!" he exclaimed, standing out of his seat from the sheer overcoming of joy that spread through him. But then, he paused when he realized he had done it, and everyone was staring curiously back at him.

⠀⠀⠀Willow hated that she was already crying again, seeing a dad so proud of his son. It overwhelmed her thinking of Laurel. It only lasted for a minute, then she compartmentalized it into the back of her head, and she returned to her neutral expression.

⠀⠀⠀The game had started with a loud whistle while Lydia walked up the stand and caught her eye as she did. She redirected toward Willow and approached, albeit nervously.

⠀⠀⠀"Can I sit next to you?" Lydia asked her, not as perky and upbeat as she tended to be but with a somber tone behind her words.

⠀⠀⠀Willow glanced at her, then nodded, unsure how to respond after their last conversation. She tried her best to focus on the game rather than anything else. Like when Laurel used to come to these games to her, how they went to every practice, how a million other things reminded Willow of her.

⠀⠀⠀But then there was Stiles, fumbling around the field like it was his first time playing the sport. Dropping his stick, tripping over his feet, making a mess of himself, and that let Willow hold onto something that wasn't her. She even felt bad for being amused by his struggle, but as he got tackled to the ground, she couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

⠀⠀⠀"Ooh, he's just a little nervous," Lydia stated, holding her hands out towards Stiles as she tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. "Plenty of time to turn it around."

⠀⠀⠀"Or, he just sucks," Willow replied, surprising herself that she had even responded.

⠀⠀⠀Lydia glanced from the corner of her eye, letting a smirk pull her lips up, and returned to looking at the field.

⠀⠀⠀"You're probably right," she whispered, then laughed loudly when they both knew it was true.

⠀⠀⠀The game continued, and the two girls didn't know how to keep a conversation going after that. However, Lydia knew one thing she could do. She took Willow's hand in her own like the night Lydia had come from the woods. There was a reassurance in her hold that here, at this moment, Lydia was there for her. And, somehow, in some way, Willow had never felt more understood and comforted in her life. Even by a single action, a hand holding her own, Lydia seemed to know that Willow didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to hear about it, be told how sorry everyone was for her loss. She wanted to grieve by herself, be assured that her friends (and it seemed even those she considered her enemy not long ago) were there for her and allowed her to do as she needed.

⠀⠀⠀Suddenly, the players paused, looking around in confusion while Stiles stood not far from them with the ball rolling up to his feet. He stared down at it, unmoving, and the crowd watched on as he did. Then, he scooped it up in his net, beginning to run for the goal as the other team caught on to where the ball went.

⠀⠀⠀Stiles paused at the goal, staring at the mob running toward him, and Willow's whole row was cringing in anticipation for him to get pummeled. Coach started screaming for him to shoot it while Stiles stayed frozen.

⠀⠀⠀"Oh, my God," Willow muttered.

⠀⠀⠀"Yell at him," Lydia told her.

⠀⠀⠀"What?"

⠀⠀⠀"Yell 'Shoot it,'" Lydia told her, rolling her eyes with a small smile. "He listens to you."

⠀⠀⠀Willow wasn't entirely sure why she did it, why she felt so idiotic for looking to Stiles and then yelling "SHOOT IT!" across the bleachers and toward the field. He turned to look at her, a broad smile on his face before he turned and launched it into the net and began a sudden boost in his previous performance.

⠀⠀⠀Stiles was able to lead the team all the way to victory. The stands were screaming and cheering for him, Stiles running across the field in excitement. Even Coach was ecstatic from the skill brought by one of his weakest players.

⠀⠀⠀There was only a moment they were allowed to bask in the joy, Willow for a moment feeling like herself again, but then the lights went out. One by one, like the night of the Winter Formal, when Lydia had been attacked and almost died. The field was cast into darkness, and the stands turned to panic.

⠀⠀⠀Lydia had dragged Willow behind her, neither screaming nor running in the dark. The panic still loomed within their bones until the lights came back up. There was a crowd on the field surrounding a body. Lydia noticed it first, letting go of Willow's hand and screaming for Jackson as she ran to them.

⠀⠀⠀Willow followed behind but stopped short a few feet. She watched as Ms. McCall looked over Jackson, noting he wasn't breathing and pulled back his shirt to see the gouges in his stomach.

⠀⠀⠀Willow took a couple of steps back, feeling her stomach turn over, and she was throwing up on the field. She felt a hand on her back, keeping her steady, and the other pulled her hair back. Willow panted heavily when she finished. Her mouth was dry for only a second before the sensation of throwing up again coated her mouth, and she was on her knees, unable to keep herself up.

⠀⠀⠀"Sabrina, hey, Sabrina," Isaac called out to her softly, running his hand up and down her back to try and soothe her. "Come on, let's get you somewhere you can sit."

⠀⠀⠀Isaac put his hands under her arms, helping her stand, and walked her across the field. He sat her down, running to the cooler and grabbing her a Gatorade the school had supplied the team with. Willow looked at him and then up to his face.

⠀⠀⠀"Why are you helping me?" Willow muttered, not willing to take the drink.

⠀⠀⠀"Because, Willow, despite me trying to kill you, you're actually pretty cool," Isaac explained with a small smile that made her feel just the tiniest bit better.

⠀⠀⠀"Thanks, Isaac," she muttered, taking the Gatorade from his hand and breaking the seal, taking a long drink while Isaac took the seat next to her. "I don't know if I can say the same for you."

⠀⠀⠀Isaac shrugged, nodding in understanding.

⠀⠀⠀"Yeah, I get it," he admitted with a sigh. "But look, I think Derek and Scott are becoming allies again. In that, what do you say to friends?" he asked, holding his hand out toward her.

⠀⠀⠀"I don't know..." Willow muttered, glancing at his hand then at his face.

⠀⠀⠀"Friends typically help their friends, like when they throw up on the field," Isaac told her, raising his eyebrows.

⠀⠀⠀"Friends typically don't break into their friend's houses," Willow retorted.

⠀⠀⠀"Fine, then what about, uh, what's less than friends?" Isaac asked her.

⠀⠀⠀"Strangers."

⠀⠀⠀Isaac rolled his eyes.

⠀⠀⠀"More than strangers."

⠀⠀⠀"Um, we both know Scott and Derek, and that's why we talk to each other."

⠀⠀⠀"So, like, acquaintances?"

⠀⠀⠀"I can shake on acquaintances."

⠀⠀⠀Isaac and Willow shook hands because, for some reason, Willow trusted him. Not in the sense of her deepest, darkest secret or how she once trusted Blair or how she still trusted Scott and Stiles. But in a way that Isaac always seemed to let you know exactly where you stood with him, and Willow liked having that around. Maybe it wasn't even trust she gave him but an understanding of who he was. Either way, it left her feeling vulnerable to even admit that to herself.

⠀⠀⠀Willow and Isaac looked up, back at the crowd surrounding Jackson, who was most likely dead on the field. At the same time, the two had tried to ignore it for a moment, and toward Mr. Stilinski as he suddenly shouted, "Where the hell is my son?!"

AUTHOR'S NOTE —

I'm on the fence for that last scene between Willow and Isaac because on one hand would Willow actually trust him? Probably not and I don't even think she does now but... I don't know. It kind of came out of nowhere and I really liked it and... yeah :/ Let me know if it feels weird or you don't like it because I might come back and delete it if people feel like it's not right.

SONG: Swallowtail by Wolf Alice

Thank you for reading! Leave comments telling me your thoughts on this chapter, but however you interact, know that I really appreciate you reading. I hope you enjoy, and until the next one.