┌─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┐
chapter thirty-eight!
LOSE YOUR MIND
└─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┘

( de-void )

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

IT'S DARK WHEN SHE gets the call.

Well, actually, several calls. Vera is in the shower when she hears her phone vibrate on the counter near the sink, momentarily interrupting the music she'd been listening to. She frowns with her hands buried into her shampoo-coated hair and stops mid-high-note once the song cuts off. At first, she wonders if her phone had died, but then she detects the faint sound of it buzzing against the counter and realizes someone's trying to call her.

That someone is going to have to wait. Vera has had a very hard time relaxing while concussed and dealing with the knowledge that, according to the scroll they'd recovered from Katashi's silver finger, one method of exorcizing a Nogitsune is to change the host. Meaning he'd have to be bitten by a werewolf.

All of the stress from this situation has left her in dire need of self-care. So, she'd chosen tonight to take a very long, hot shower where she actually shaves her entire legs instead of stopping at her knee, uses a sugar scrub, and belts out some of her favorite songs from her playlist. Her skin has already blushed a faint pink where the scalding water has rained down on it the longest. Steam curls around the small bathroom, fogging the mirror above the sink and her glasses, which sit beside her phone.

After this, she's planning on applying a face mask that Dominic's sister Vanessa had gifted her, curling up in bed with Hades, and watching 13 Going on 30. Maybe she'll even paint her nails if she feels like it. God knows she needs just one night to feel like a regular teenage girl.

The call goes to voicemail, allowing her music to pick up where it left off. Vera continues her terrible singing (seriously, she's surprised Mai hasn't demanded that she stop yet) as she rinses the shampoo from her hair.

Then her phone rings again.

This time, she's mildly irritated, but once again, waits it out until the music returns. It doesn't even last for more than a few seconds before it's interrupted by a third call.

"Por el amor de Dios, ¿quién es ese?" Vera mutters to herself as she yanks the shower curtain aside, squinting at her lit-up phone screen as she struggles to read the caller ID without her glasses. She quickly realizes that she's only going to make her head hurt again by straining her eyes, and the last thing she wants is to make her concussion worse, so she gives up and returns to her shower routine.

The person — or people, considering she has no idea if her entire friend group is calling her or just one of them — calls her eight more times. Most people may have gotten out and answered, but most people aren't as stubborn as Vera. She refuses to let this cut into her shower. If someone is dying, they can wait until she finishes shaving her underarms.

Mostly out of spite, she doesn't look at her call history until she's dressed in her comfiest pajamas and combed through her wet hair. Only then does she unlock her phone to see who has been trying so adamantly to reach her.

Missed call from SCOOT (2)

SCOOT: Hello??

SCOOT: Normally you answer your phone. Are you sleeping? If so, sorry to wake you. If not and you're just ignoring me, please pick up

Missed call from SCOOT (3)

SCOOT: Seriously. Dom said you're home. This is urgent

SCOOT: I hate to have to do this

Missed call from SCOOT (6)

Vera jumps when her phone starts vibrating again as yet another call from Scott comes through. She takes a second to calm her racing heartbeat before sliding to accept the call and holding the phone to her ear.

"What's up?"

"Why weren't you answering?" is Scott's reply.

"I was in the shower. You picked a bad time to ring, tonto."

"Sorry, I can't exactly ask a crisis to hold off until a better time."

Vera cracks a grin at that— she always finds it hilarious when Scott gets sassy. She balances the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she applies a pump of lotion to the palm of her hand and asks, "Are you gonna cut to the chase and tell me why you called, or are you gonna keep lecturing me?"

"Stiles escaped from Eichen House."

Her phone slips and clatters onto her dresser when her entire body goes slack with shock. She quickly picks it up, accidentally smearing lotion onto the case as she puts it back up to her ear. "What? How?"

"We don't know exactly," Scott answers. "But we do know that it wasn't actually Stiles who got out."

Vera's blood turns cold. "It's the Nogitsune."

The silence on the line is all the confirmation she needs; Scott probably can't bring himself to say the words aloud. She blows air out of her mouth, puffing her cheeks out and trying to ease the panic rising in her chest. Deaton had said the poison wouldn't last long. How foolish was Vera to assume that they'd have more time to prepare for when it finally wore off and the kitsune fully possessed their friend?

It does explain how he was able to get past the guards. The dark kitsune has supernatural powers beyond Vera's understanding, and they would make it easy for him to escape even a highly-secured mental facility.

Her chest begins to burn. She releases another long exhale; she hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath. "So what do we do now?"

"Come to my place tomorrow," Scott says. "I kind of have a plan."

Unease gnaws at Vera's gut. Scott's plans are usually horrible, but given their circumstances, she'll take any sort of idea she can get. Vera sure as shit doesn't have anything better to offer, so she agrees. They hang up after telling each other to stay safe.

Her hands are shaking when she sets her phone on her dresser, absentmindedly rubbing the leftover lotion into her hands. Out of everything they've encountered, this is probably the worst. It isn't some dark druid or homicidal Alpha— this is her friend, some dark thing using Stiles's body like a puppet to inflict unimaginable pain. And it's working. They've barely seen the tip of the iceberg and Vera already feels the cold wash of terror from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

Self-care routine be damned. Vera turns off the lamp on her bedside table and grabs her favorite blanket, wrapping it around herself as she navigates through the dark hallway and down the stairs mostly through muscle memory.

When she gently knocks on her mother's door, which is slightly ajar, she hears a sniffle. "Adelante."

Vera cautiously pushes it open. Mai is sitting in her bed with her covers drawn up to her waist, her black hair held up in a claw clip with a few strands framing her face. She looks tired, but she still manages to give Vera a small grin. "Oye, mija. ¿Qué pasa?"

In a voice so small she hardly recognizes it, Vera asks if she can sleep here tonight. Mai's brows furrow into a concerned line and she shifts so she's sitting on the left side of her mattress, patting the now-empty spot. Vera climbs onto the bed — which is difficult when her blanket is wrapped around her like she's a burrito — but she manages to flop over so her head is in her mother's lap. Mai's hand instantly starts brushing comforting strokes on her blanket-clad shoulder.

Another sniffle causes Vera to crane her neck so she can see Mai's face. She catches her wiping underneath her glassy eye. "Are you crying?"

"No, mija," Mai reassures her— not really to convince her, but in a tone that warns her that she's not in the mood to talk about it. "You should get some sleep."

Vera closes her eyes, relishing in her mother's warmth and familiar scent. It's like she's a kid again, tip-toeing into this bedroom after a nightmare. Now that Vera's everyday life practically is a waking nightmare, she'd thought she'd get used to it and outgrow these things. But despite the distance between her and Mai, how she's left her alone so many times in a house she can barely stand to be in, and the countless times they've butted heads, Vera still needs her mom.

— ✯✯✯ —

Mid-November leaves Vera with a permanent chill deep in her bones. Scott's house isn't cold, but she still finds herself crossing her arms and tugging the knit fabric of her lilac sweater closer to her body. Goosebumps rise on the exposed patches of skin through her ripped jeans. A sneakered foot — lilac to match her sweater — taps restlessly against the smooth hardwood floor.

Lydia, Dom, Deaton, Aiden, and Scott stand with Vera in an arc around the sofa, keeping space between them and the spirit unconscious on the couch. It's odd seeing Stiles's body but knowing it's not him. His head is lolled back against the maroon cushions, dark shadows beneath his closed eyes like Stiles hadn't gotten much sleep before the full possession.

Vera shifts her weight from foot to foot. Her brain sends continuous alarm bells to her body, warning her that this thing isn't actually her friend and that she should probably get the fuck away while she still can. She tries her best to smother that feeling down. Abandoning Stiles is not an option. She has to help him in any way she can.

"Is healing a part of the Nogitsune's powers?" Dom asks, referring to the large gash across the spirit's stomach that appears to be mending itself beneath the bandages that Melissa had given him.

"Among other things, yes," Deaton confirms. "You may have noticed his enhanced strength— these are common abilities of a kitsune."

That explains why Kira's head injury had healed much faster than Vera's.

Aiden asks through gritted teeth, "Well, if we're not going to kill him, why aren't we at least tying him down with really big chains?"

"I might have something more effective." Deaton unzips a black case and produces a small vial of a clear liquid that's all too familiar to the pack. Vera's knees go weak at the very sight of it, her body remembering how quickly it could paralyze her from the neck down.

Scott nods at Aiden. The two werewolves approach the dark spirit with slow movements, each holding a shoulder and one side of his face to pry his jaw open. Deaton dips a dropper into the vial and suctions some of the liquid inside.

Just as he empties the dropper into the Nogitsune's open mouth, his eyes snap open. A flash of movement has one of his hands wrapped around Aiden's throat.

"Get him off me!" Aiden cries, prying at the spirit's iron grip. "Get him off me!"

Vera uses a burst of flight to dart forward, shifting into her phantom face that roars at the spirit with a gaping, black mouth and razor-sharp teeth. It startles him enough that he releases Aiden and allows him to stagger back.

The Nogitsune reaches for Vera next, but Scott puts an arm around her and yanks her away. It doesn't matter— the spirit's hand begins to tremble, and then his body falls limp a moment later.

"Kanima venom," he says in that same flat, emotionless voice he'd used when he'd taunted Scott at the clinic. "Nice touch."

Aiden takes a step toward him with a roar, but the dark kitsune remains utterly unfazed as he says, "You know how they say that twins get a feeling when the other one's in pain? You didn't lose that power too, did you? Oh, I hope not! You're gonna need it."

Vera swallows thickly as Aiden glances at Scott, realization slowly dawning on his face.

"Okay, I'll give a little hint," the Nogitsune sighs. "Ethan's at the school."

Aiden shoots a questioning look at the Alpha again to his credit, almost as if he's asking for permission. It shocks Vera down to her core. The twins have never seen Scott as their Alpha, but now...

"Go!" Scott exclaims. Aiden doesn't need another word from him before he rushes past the sofa and out the front door, which swings shut with a resounding slam!

The Nogitsune's head rolls back against the cushion as he follows Aiden with his eyes, a chilling laugh echoing through the living room. "Oh, I hope he gets there in time. I like the twins." He looks back at them, raising his head as high as the paralyzing venom allows. "Short tempers, homicidal compulsions... they're a lot more fun than you bakemono, trying to save the world every day."

"Shut up," Dom fires at him, his jaw set with anger.

The dark spirit raises his eyebrows and looks at Dom with amusement dancing in his eyes. He huffs out a laugh before saying, "Oh, this is cute. I can hear Stiles begging me not to hurt you. Too bad he can't do anything about it."

Vera can practically see the steam emitting from Dominic's ears as he fumes.

Mrs. McCall appears from the kitchen, her expression hard as stone. "Doc, you brought something to paralyze his body. You got anything for his mouth?"

"Yes, I do." Deaton produces a roll of black duct tape and tears off a strip. He presses it firmly against the spirit's mouth, preventing another word from escaping his lips.

But it doesn't mean that the Nogitsune can't make any more noise. He glares up at Deaton, and those eyes — Stiles's eyes, which had always been filled with honey-brown warmth — are now dark and dead. He releases a muffled scream through the tape. Then, to Vera's horror, she realizes that his shoulders start to shake with laughter.

"Save the psychosis for the Hitchcock movie," Dom sneers, refusing to give in to the spirit's fear tactics as he turns his back on him.

While Melissa stays to watch over the Nogitsune, the others gather around the McCall's kitchen island to reassess their options. The room is filled with a sense of dread. Vera can't shake the mirth that had been glittering in the spirit's eyes after Deaton had taped his mouth shut. It feels like, no matter what they do, they're still playing his game.

"How much longer do we have?" Scott asks.

"I wish I knew," Deaton replies somberly. "But if we don't figure out something soon, we're gonna need to find a better place to keep him. I think we are grossly underestimating the danger here. He might be paralyzed, but it still feels like he's got us right in the palm of his hand."

"So it's not just me who feels that way," Vera says, exhaling a sigh and leaning her weight on her other foot. "Good. I thought things were looking hopeless."

"Someone's been spending too much time with Isaac," Dom lightly jabs. "His pessimism is rubbing off on you."

"Someone's redirecting their fears into jokes pointed at other people again," Vera shoots back. Dom looks like a deer in headlights, turning his gaze toward the wooden counter.

"Things aren't hopeless, Vera," Deaton promises her. "We know how to get rid of the Nogitsune— there's just the matter of making sure it doesn't take away Stiles, too."

Right. Totally easy and totally not hopeless.

"Well, the scroll said to change his body," Lydia points out.

"That's if I translated it correctly," Deaton says. "We're looking for a cure in something that might actually be nothing more than a proverb or a... a metaphor."

"And what if he doesn't want it?" Scott adds. "He never asked to be a werewolf."

"I feel like he'd understand if we do it to save his life," Vera argues.

"What if it kills him? I've never done this before. I mean, what if I bite him and accidentally hit an artery or something?"

"And what if there's no Stiles left in there at all?" Dom asks, his hands curled into tight fists on the island's surface. "What if Scott bites him, the Nogitsune is gone, and..." he swallows hard, the possibility almost making him physically ill, "there's nothing?"

There's a long beat of silence. They're at a standstill — none of them can agree on what to do because every solution seems to have more problems attached to it. This is why Vera hates reading the fine print.

"The venom is not going to last long," Deaton reminds them. "Something needs to be done sooner than later."

Scott lifts an exasperated hand. "I can try calling Derek again?"

Vera looks at Lydia, whose brows are pinched in thought. She allows the gears in her brain to turn a little longer before she suggests, "Maybe we should call someone else..."

She gives all of them a long, meaningful look until Vera's face falls slack with realization and dread. Peter.

Vera walks forward and grabs Lydia by the wrist, marching her out into the hallway, the strawberry blonde's heeled ankle boots clicking on the hardwood as she stumbles along to follow. Once they're out of earshot, she releases her grip and turns to Lydia incredulously.

"Peter?" she whisper-yells. "Seriously?"

"I know he's not the ideal person to ask for help—" Lydia starts, causing Vera to cut her off with a scoff.

"That's an understatement."

"We're desperate."

"What makes you think he'll even show up to help? You know he only does favors when the other person has leverage— something he wants."

Lydia falters for a moment before pressing her glossed lips into a firm line. Her green eyes flicker away from Vera's to look at the wall next to them, and it dawns on her.

"You have something on him," Vera realizes.

"I don't want to tell him, but..." Lydia pauses, sucking in a breath. "I will if it's to save a friend."

A beat. Vera dares herself to ask, "What is it?"

"Peter's not just an uncle."

Vera's brows crease. Of course he's not. He's a son, a brother, and...

Oh. A father.

"To who?"

Lydia glances back toward the kitchen, fully aware of Scott's super-hearing and the people still in the quiet house. Instead of speaking out loud, she mouths three syllables. Muh — lee — uh.

Malia. Malia Tate. The girl they'd rescued back in October? The one who'd been stuck in the form of a coyote for eight years? But when she thinks about it and the photo she'd seen of seventeen-year-old Malia in the news, they do look alarmingly similar.

Derek has a long-lost cousin. And, due to the confusing and close relationship Vera has with the Hale family, so does she.

"He doesn't know the name," Lydia tells her as Vera struggles to process this information. "You think that'll be enough to get him here?"

"Oh, yeah," Vera confirms. "If there's one thing Peter hates, it's not being the smartest person in the room."

— ✯✯✯ —

Sure enough, Peter rings the doorbell in less than ten minutes.

He wears a self-satisfied smirk when he swaggers inside the house. He's preening over the fact that they need his help— never mind that he's the last resort. That fact doesn't matter to him. The only thing that does is that Lydia is telling him a vital piece of information in return.

Peter catches sight of Vera and clasps his hands behind his back. "Hello, my favorite non-blood-related niece."

Vera doesn't give him the satisfaction of a response, merely glowering at him with eyes filled with simmering hatred. It doesn't affect him whatsoever.

Peter circles the sofa where the Nogitsune sits, thoughtfully examining him. Once he reaches the front again, he leans down and peers into the sleep-deprived face of the spirit wearing Stiles's skin.

"He doesn't look like he would survive a slap across the face, much less the bite of a werewolf."

Vera and Dom roll their eyes in sync. This is just as helpful as they assumed he'd be.

"You don't think it would work?" Scott asks.

With the glow of the sun pouring through the window behind the spirit, the purple rings under the Nogitsune's eyes become even more pronounced, standing in stark contrast against Stiles's pale skin. Now that Vera notices it, he looks even paler than usual. The moles dusted across his neck and cheeks like constellations appear black against the milky white pallor.

"This is more a war of the mind than the body." Peter stands up, unfazed by the Nogitsune's challenging stare. "There are better methods to winning this battle."

"What kind of methods?" Deaton questions.

Peter takes Scott's forearm and flicks it downward, causing his claws to extract. The spirit's brows rise in slight interest as they gleam in the light.

"We're going to get into his head."

Vera swallows thickly. She'd seen this method before— back in August when Peter had dug his claws into Isaac's neck to enter his mind and view his repressed memories. It seems like a lifetime ago, but she remembers how awful it had been to witness it. Isaac's thrashing limbs as he'd attempted to fight Peter off. His glowing eyes and ragged, fearful breathing. Not to mention the fact that Peter had admitted to accidentally killing someone while doing this ritual.

Lydia guides Peter into the adjacent room for a talk— probably about their deal. The others wait, fidgeting in the presence of the Nogitsune. Even though he can't move, his Kubrick stare is enough to inflict fear in their hearts.

"You know what he's talking about?" Scott asks her. It takes Vera a moment to realize that he can probably smell her rising anxiety.

"Yeah," she confirms, dropping her arms to her sides. "It's an ancient ritual that usually only Alphas — and werewolves who were once Alphas — perform. Very dangerous, very risky. Can result in paralyzation and death."

Dom blinks. "Well, that's reassuring."

"But, if done correctly... it does work." Vera glances at Scott and realizes that she's probably made him even more nervous than before. "But don't worry, you're the least likely to kill anyone."

"Or paralyze them," Dom adds.

Vera cringes. "Well..."

Peter and Lydia return to the living room, where he places his hands on the back of the sofa. "Scott is going to try and dig through pale and sickly Evil Stiles's mind to unearth pale and sickly Real Stiles, then guide him back from the depths of his own subconscious. But, he's not going to do it alone."

"What do you mean?" Scott asks.

"Somebody needs to go in with you."

Vera recalls Deaton's words before Scott, Allison, and Stiles had performed the human sacrifice to find their parents. "It needs to be someone who can pull you back, someone that has a strong connection to you, a kind of emotional tether."

Dominic can pull Stiles back.

As if realizing this as well, Dom glances at Scott and says, "You better not kill me, because I've done the whole dying thing once and I am not a fan."

Peter helps Scott line his claws up with the ridges of Stiles's spine near the nape of his neck. His expression is focused, his movements careful. It gives Vera a sliver of hope that he's actually taking this matter seriously.

"So, what do we do if we find him?" Scott asks.

"You're going to have to guide him out somehow," Peter answers vaguely, lining up the claws of Scott's other hand with Dominic's vertebrae. "Try to give him back control of his mind, his body..."

"Could you elaborate on the 'somehow'?" Lydia questions in an unimpressed tone. "It's not feeling very specific at the moment."

He shrugs. "Improvise."

Vera wants nothing more than to punch him in the face.

"What if this is just another trick?" Scott wonders aloud.

"When are you people going to start trusting me?" Peter inquires exasperatedly.

The Alpha looks at him before jerking his head toward the Nogitsune. "...I meant him."

"Oh."

In an effort to guide Scott and remind him that in spite of his fears, this is still their only option, Deaton says, "Scott, we're running out of time."

The boy nods. He inhales a deep breath, and when his eyes open, they flash blood-red. He jams his claws into the spirit and Dominic's necks. Both of them flinch, with Dominic releasing a grunt of pain, and then all three of them go completely still.

It's different than it had been when Peter did this to Isaac. Instead of swiveling his head around with unfocused eyes as he takes in what the others can't see, Scott's eyes are closed. Neither the Nogitsune nor Dom tries to fight the claws jammed into their necks. They merely remain as unmoving as statues as they venture into Stiles's mind.

"Now what?" Lydia asks, her apprehensive stare locked onto the trio.

Peter sits in an armchair and rests his elbows against his knees. "We wait."

It's agonizing. Vera loathes not knowing what's going on. Being on the other side of this ritual is, in all honesty, pretty boring. There's nothing to do except do exactly what Peter said. Wait.

A gargled choking sound makes all of their heads snap toward Dominic. His head twitches, his hands glowing red-hot up to his wrists as if his blood is made of magma. A trickle of blood drips from his nose.

"Dom?" Vera asks, her gut churning at the sight of the crimson drop.

"Look at that," Melissa says. "Do you see that? He's bleeding."

Peter stands, his head tilting curiously to the side as he regards the blood leaking from Dom's nose. Vera shoves him out of the way and kneels in front of her best friend. Melissa tries to follow, but Deaton holds an arm out to stop her.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"What's happening?" Melissa questions fearfully. "What is happening to him?"

"Dom? Hey, it's Vee." Vera tries to place her hands on his temples, but yanks them back. His skin is burning to the touch. "Kick that Nogitsune's ass, okay? He's probably trying to trick you."

Deaton nods in agreement. "It's a trickster spirit. It's likely that he's trying to distract them from finding Stiles."

"And it's working," Peter adds unhelpfully. He stalks closer, and Vera is about to shove him back again when he abruptly seizes Dominic by the face, his healing abilities allowing him to shake Dom's head back and forth despite his burning skin. "Dominic, listen to me. You need to concentrate."

For a moment, Vera is surprised that he's actually trying to guide Dominic back onto the right path, only to realize that, if they don't complete this ritual, he won't get any information out of Lydia.

Dom continues to make those awful choking sounds, the thick droplet of blood nearing his top lip. Vera's heart slams against her ribcage at the sight of it. What could he be seeing in there? What is the Nogitsune trying to trick him with?

"DOMINIC!" Peter's voice is an earth-shattering echo, making Vera lose her balance and fall back onto the floor with her hands over her ears. Lydia grabs her and hauls her to her feet. There's a pained cringe on her own face.

Dom stops twitching, falling still once again.

And then all three of their eyes flash open, Dominic sucking in a gasp as Scott yanks his claws from his neck.

"Did it work?" Scott asks. He sounds like he's in a daze for a moment, then quickly hurries around to the front of the sofa, his fingertips dripping blood. "Did it work?"

"What happened?" Lydia questions. "Why didn't it work?"

Scott crouches in front of the Nogitsune as Dom scrambles to his feet, wiping at the blood under his nose. He cringes and brings a hand to the back of his neck. Vera's stomach drops at the sight of five crescent-shaped claw marks embedded in his skin.

"Because it's not science, Lydia. It's supernatural," Peter reminds her, grabbing her by the arm. "I did my part. Now give me the name."

Scott slowly rises to his feet, staring with furrowed brows at the two of them. "What name? What are you talking about?"

Peter pulls Lydia along without answering. Vera mashes her lips together as guilt jumbles her insides. She loathes keeping things from Scott— he's nearly impossible to lie to, but it's obvious that Lydia doesn't want him to know about Peter's relation to Malia yet. It's not her secret to tell.

"Lydia, a deal is a deal, even with me," Peter says lowly.

Lydia nods reluctantly and leans toward his ear to whisper the name. As soon as it leaves her lips, the Nogitsune grunts and jerks his body forward, his eyes wide and movements wild as he fumbles with the duct tape covering his mouth. He peels it off to reveal his chin covered in saliva.

Vera watches with her jaw dropped as he begins to pull what looks like a long strip of white cloth from his mouth. His face contorts in agony, his hands grappling at the never-ending trail. But he still can't get it out fast enough. The urgency and discomfort send him collapsing off the sofa and onto his knees, retching up the cloth until it coils into a pile on the McCall's living room floor.

Once it's over, the Nogitsune sucks in a desperate gasp of air. Spit drips from his mouth as he coughs and tries to regain his composure.

A hand reaches up from the pile of cloth. The spirit jerks back as the arm — with any exposed bits of skin hidden by the same bandage-like material that the spirit had vomited up — finds purchase on the floor. Using it as leverage, it hauls up the rest of a body. Its head is completely mummified in the ratty cloth. Bony shoulder blades writhe under a brown military jacket as it materializes from the pile, pawing at the floor, blind.

Their group backs toward the wall in horror. Dom swears violently under his breath, eyes wide. Vera's limbs are poised to fight this thing if she has to.

Once it's standing, the body holds a bandaged hand up as if to examine it, even if the cloth covering its entire head prevents it from seeing. Then it attempts to pull at the material near its eyes. Its fingers can't find a grip due to the layers of cloth.

The figure takes an uneven step toward them. Immediately, Scott and Peter dart forward to grab it by both arms as Deaton pushes Lydia and Melissa behind him. The two werewolves force the body into the armchair. It puts up a fight, writhing in their strong grips.

"Hold him!" Peter growls.

"I'm trying!" Scott yells back.

The thing continues to thrash in their grips, and Vera can now hear what sounds like ragged breaths through the thick layers of cloth. Panicked gasps for air. And the voice— she thinks she recognizes it.

Scott realizes the same thing half a second later. He shouts, "Wait, wait!" and raises a shaking hand. Unraveling some of the cloth, he pulls it back from the figure's face.

And reveals Stiles.

Vera sighs in relief, her body going slack after spending the entire day wound up tightly. Dom releases a gasp.

Stiles's confused gaze surveys his surroundings, his trembling voice asking, "Scott?"

A whimper comes from Dominic's mouth. He surges forward, cupping Stiles's cheeks in both hands, and presses his lips to his forehead. His eyes are watery as he pulls back and brushes a stray strand of hair that falls in front of Stiles's eyes, managing a small smile and a soft "Hey," as Stiles stares at him like he's a dream.

"Scott," Deaton's voice says, snapping Vera's attention to him. When the Alpha turns around, Deaton motions toward the front door. Which is wide open.

The Nogitsune is gone. And so is Lydia.

"Where are they?" Scott questions. Deaton raises his shoulders in a helpless shrug. Scott's voice rises to a panicked shout as he races toward the door. "Where are they? Lydia! Lydia!"

They have Stiles back, but it's come at the cost of another friend.

________

a/n:

this chapter would've been so much more exciting if i could've written what dominic was seeing in stiles's mind🙄

what i pictured is that, in season 1 when they're at the winter formal, there's a moment when stiles and dom lock eyes from across the room as a slow song is playing, and that's the first major hint that there's ~*something there*~ between them. and the camera would linger on their faces before something takes one of their attention spans away. so dom would be dressed in his suit and see the hallway covered in balloons kinda how lydia did, with the song playing in the background.

i also made these a while ago and kept forgetting to put them in the chapters, so here's a text chain i made for fun:

and here's the one stiles made in chapter 28:

#iconic

—kristyn

TRANSLATIONS:

Por el amor de Dios, ¿quién es ese?: For the love of God, who is that?

Tonto: Silly

Adelante: Come in

Oye, mija. ¿Qué pasa?: Hey, my daughter. What's up?

Bakemono: Monsters

( word count: 5.6k )