nativity ☆ teen wolf

epilogue

Stiles stirred in his bed, unravelling from his covers as light began to pour into his field of vision. He mumbled against the drastic change, rubbing his eyes as he sat up in his bed.

Even when it was a summer day, it never seemed to be as bright as it was now.

Stiles climbed out of his bed, in loose fitting joggers and a lacrosse hoodie with his number on the back. Yawning, he poked a finger through the blinds just enough to see out. He squinted, having to make sure he was seeing right.

Snow.

Snow everywhere.

A grin immediately broke out on his face, just like he had as a kid when it snowed on rare occasion at Christmas. But as a flash of Hope beginning the snow the night before, his expression immediately switched.

He hadn't known what she chose. He didn't know where she was.

Stiles let go of the blinds, the cheap white panels snapping back into place. He turned around, moving to grab his phone to see if anyone had heard from her since last night. But instead of his eyes going directly for his phone, he found a vase sitting on his desk next to his laptop.

Sweet Leilani's brimmed from a glass vase with no water, yet holding perfect composure and were full of life. A note stuck out, a purple piece of paper clinging to the side of the vase.

Stiles plucked the note off of the glass, somehow recognizing the handwriting without having seen it before.

It was, undoubtedly, from Hope.

Stiles,

I've never taken part in the most commonly known tradition of Christmas. I've never asked for anything, but I'm going to change that. What does an angel want for Christmas, well that's a good question. What I want for Christmas is for Allison Argent's memory to remain untainted, but unpained for you and her loved ones. I want for each of you to be okay, even if that seems like an impossible thing to ask for. I know to ask Beacon Hills to be normal is a long shot, so I won't force a supernatural town to dim its lights even if it would give you all a rest. Do two things for me: Have Scott go look at Derek Hale's loft and keep me in mind. Not me-me, but what I stand for. So this is my last request of you.

Have hope.