competition, allison argent

xx. raving

Dr. Deaton holds up a vial of clear liquid, the dim light of his examination room glinting off the glass. Scott, Cody, and Stiles crowd in, their curiosity overriding the tension buzzing in the space.

"Ketamine?" Stiles reads, his eyebrows scrunching together. "Isn't that like...horse tranquilizer?"

Deaton nods. "The same we use on the clinic's larger patients. Just a considerably higher dosage for our current situation." He hands Scott the vial and a hypodermic needle, the metal glinting ominously. "If you can get close enough to Jackson, it should slow him down, give you all some breathing room."

Deaton sets a glass jar in front of Stiles. It's filled with a fine, gray ash that swirls with an almost unsettling luminescence when he picks it up. "This is a sample of what you'll use for the barrier. Now, Stiles..." he turns those unnervingly calm eyes on Stiles, "this part is for you. And only you."

Stiles clutches the jar a little tighter, fingers brushing the cool glass. A familiar knot starts forming in his stomach. "This sounds like an awful lot of pressure. Could we maybe find a less pressure filled task for me?"

Deaton smiles, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "It's from a mountain ash tree which is believed by many cultures to protect against the supernatural. This office is lined with mountain ash wood which makes it difficult for someone like Scott to cause me any trouble."

"So I spread this around the whole building and neither Jackson or whoever's controlling him won't be able to cross it?"

Deaton nods. "Essentially."

"That actually doesn't sound so hard," Scott says with a relieved grin.

"Ah, but that's just the physical part." Deaton's voice takes on a serious edge. "Think of the ash like gunpowder. Just harmless until a spark ignites it. Stiles, you need to be that spark."

"If you mean light myself on fire, I'm not sure I'm up for that." Stiles jokes, but his voice is tight.

The doctor's smile softens. "Let me try a different analogy. I used to play golf. What's interesting about the best golfers is they never swing without first imagining where they want the ball to go. They see it in their mind. And their mind takes over. It can be pretty extraordinary what the force of your own will can accomplish."

"Force of will," Stiles repeats, the words catching in his throat.

"For this to work, Stiles, you have to believe it will."

Stiles nods slowly. His gaze drops to the jar. The ash seems to pulse with an eerie light of its own. He takes a deep, shaky breath, trying to find that spark of focused will inside himself. 

🍃

Allison fidgets nonstop, twisting a loose thread on her sleeve as she paces the chemistry classroom. It feels like the whole room is waiting, holding its breath.

The door finally creaks open, and Cody slips inside. He flashes that easy smile that always makes her heart skip a beat, but there's a flicker of concern in his eyes when he sees her.

"Hey," Allison manages, forcing a smile.

He places warm hands over hers, instantly sensing her unease. "What's going on? You're like, a nervous energy ball right now."

She tries to explain, words tumbling out. "Last night, my Dad and I - he knows about the last two murders - he knows there were two killers. He and Gerard-" Her voice trails off.

Cody nods slowly. "Okay, that's... well, it's not great, but it's not the end of the world. Your dad knows, fine. I'm actually more freaked out about your mom."