Being hit in the face with a pillow wasn't how Rachel expected to wake up, but compared to how she'd woken the last few days, she'd never been happier. She was mildly confused, which escalated to moderately confused upon finding out she was sleeping on the floor— it was still comfier than her bed in Eichen House.

"Rachel?" Allison's voice startled her, even more when it was accompanied by the sound of metal rattling. "Rachel?"

Rachel shot up, wide awake. Her blue eyes flickered red without a thought, and her senses heightened to that of an alpha werewolf's, but she calmed down almost instantly when she saw the source of the metallic noise. "Why'd you chain your feet to the bed?"

"I didn't." Allison deadpanned, looking unimpressed. "Did you?"

"Two sets of basic handcuffs, both of which you can open in under a minute with the bobby pin on your bedside table.. you caught me." Rachel remarked, holding her hands up in surrender. "Don't insult me."

Allison had already picked one of the locks and was working on the other. "Sorry.. but if you didn't, who did?"

"Maybe it's one of your dad's weird tests? Like the one where he got another hunter to kidnap you." The chimera asked, yawning. Allison's alarm clock read just after nine a.m, but it felt like Rachel had only slept for an hour, maximum.

"No." Allison shook her head, undoing the second cuff. She placed the bobby pin back on her table, and turned towards her vanity to return the cuffs to the duffel bag she kept her weapons in, but froze when she saw it wasn't there. "My bag's missing."

"Bag as in purse or bag as in arsenal?" The look on Allison's face said it all. "Oh boy."

"I need to tell my dad." She moved to get up, but Rachel stopped her.

"Wait, let me see if there's a scent first." The chimera stated. Scents didn't linger very long without something to latch on to— be it a carpet or blanket, but being that it had to have been in the past ten hours, traces would hopefully still remained. None were foreign, though. "I'm only getting familiar scents. Me, you, your dad, Scott & Isaac, but Scott & Isaac would've set off the alarm."

Allison fell silent. She looked.. worried.

"What?" Rachel furrowed her brows.

"I gave Isaac the alarm code." The huntress informed her, her face pale. "He kept setting it off every time you or Scott sent him to check on me, so I- I gave him the code."

It took a minute for her words to fully resonate with the chimera. Even though it was blatantly obvious with everything she'd said last night, the inability to believe prevented the realization from hitting her until it was the only logical explanation left.

"He wasn't just talking about killing the twins." Rachel mumbled, feeling sick. Partially because she was still starving, but mostly because her boyfriend was premeditating murder. "Call Scott."

The huntress nodded, not saying another word before dialling the werewolf— his phone rang a few times, as it never did, but right before she was about to lose hope it picked up. A sigh of relief escaped her lips.

"..Scott's phone?" A nervous sounding female voice spoke on the line.

Rachel raised a brow, about to question but Allison held up a hand signalling for her to remain quiet. "Kira?"

"Yeah, sorry, um, Scott's downstairs waiting for Stiles, I'll go get him." The kitsune said. Scott had left his phone on his table, and Kira didn't feel all that comfortable answering it for him, but she didn't want him to miss anything important. She could hear multiple people moving around downstairs, indicating that the expected company had arrived— meaning if it was something important, it would end up waiting, and important things shouldn't wait. She wasn't overstepping, right?

"No, no, no, wait, they found Stiles?" The huntress asked. "I- on second thought, I could use your help instead. Meet me at the school, bring your sword."

She hung up before Kira could question why a trip to the high school required a sword— the answer was very easily assumed. It was Beacon Hills. Allison turned back to look at Rachel and ask if she would be accompanying them, but she was already standing in the doorway ready to go.

"Are you coming with me?" Allison asked her.

The brunette bit her lip. "No."

—

"I got here as fast as I—" Rachel announced as she jogged into the living room of the McCall house, stopping short as she caught sight of Stiles sitting on the couch. He looked like a completely different person. His black hair was a mess and his brown eyes were circled by reddish black bruising, a clear indication he hadn't slept in days. His skin was significantly paler than usual, to the point where he looked deathly ill.

There was no doubt that it was indeed Stiles' body, but the devious look in his eyes made it clear that it wasn't him in control. He was abnormally still and slouched back, but otherwise conscious— Rachel wanted to question it, but she didn't get the chance.

"There she is!" The nogitsune beamed, a sinister smile on his face. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to show up."

"Where else would I be?" Rachel snapped. "Where you belong?"

"You're the one who trusted a fox." He chuckled. He had various ways to get her into the closed unit, but none of them had been necessary after she won herself a free trip. He didn't even have to make her one of his puppets; she was so blinded by love that she was dumb enough to fall right into his trap. "You just never learn, do you?"

The chimera bared her fangs, her eyes glowing a bright red as she took a step forward only to be stopped by Scott stepping halfway between her and the nogitsune. She wasn't actually going to do anything, knowing Stiles was still somewhere in there— but she really wanted to, so it was for the better.

"Doc, you brought something to paralyze his body. You got anything for his mouth?" Melissa McCall questioned.

"Yes, I do." Deaton responded, and the sound of duct tape ripping followed. The nogitsune looked less than impressed when the veterinarian taped his mouth shut, but everyone else in the room was grateful that they wouldn't be hearing his voice again. At least for a few minutes.

"Thank hell." Rachel mumbled as she walked into the dining room. She took a seat at the table, but turned herself around towards the living room so she'd be able to see if the nogitsune got up.

"Where've you been?" Scott questioned as he and Lydia both walked in. He looked concerned, but glad to see that she was okay— Allison had texted both him and Lydia last night to let them know that Rachel had finally shown up. Neither had gotten an explanation though, especially not for the banshee scream they'd both heard, and while right now really wasn't the time, Scott had to ask.

"Playing Renfield for Count Nogitsune." The chimera replied, cringing at her own stupidity. The only thing preventing her from tearing the nogitsune apart was Stiles— if Stiles wasn't in there, that little spawn of Satan would be in multiple pieces. In concrete, buried all around Beacon Hills. Rachel was nobody's Renfield. She wasn't the fool, and she sure as hell wasn't crazy; even if everything that went on around her was. "Don't ask. If Deaton used kanima venom to paralyze that thing, I don't have time to explain."

"How much longer do you think we have?" Lydia wondered aloud. Being immune, she'd never felt the paralyzing effects of kanima venom, or how long it took to regain movement. Rachel hadn't either, but she'd witnessed the effects on those around her many times.

"Depends on how fast he heals." Rachel sighed. She had seen the tear in his shirt and the cut across his stomach. It didn't concern her because it wasn't bleeding, but now that was the part that worried her the most. "It can keep a human down for a few hours, but someone like Scott.. maybe half an hour."

"We think he's healing like us." Scott told her.

"If we don't figure out something soon, we're gonna need a better place to keep him." Lydia reminded them. A demonic fox couldn't exactly be locked in a closet, or wrapped in duct tape and stashed in a bathtub. He was powerful, and they knew all too well how hard powerful was to contain. The only reason they had him now was because he wanted them to have him.

"I think we're grossly underestimating the danger here." Deaton chimed in. "He might be paralyzed, but it still feels like he's got us right in the palm of his hand."

"That's because he does." The chimera sighed, leaning back in her chair. "When doesn't he? All this time, we've all been thinking we're one step ahead of him, but we're twenty steps behind. He's a trickster, he's tricking us! Every word that comes out of his mouth is bullshit, so whatever he said to get you to bring him here—"

"I found him unconscious in a parking lot." Lydia interrupted, recalling how her banshee abilities had led her there. "Where else was I supposed to bring him?"

"A maximum security prison, maybe?" Rachel remarked. "As far away from us as possible. Greenland, New Zealand.. North Korea! Literally anywhere other than Scott's living room. I don't want that thing anywhere near me."

"That thing is Stiles." Lydia reminded her, although mildly unsure of whether or not the words she spoke were still true.

"That's not Stiles." The chimera shook her head, glaring daggers towards the living room. "Not anymore."

"He's still in there." Scott stated. He didn't want to so much as think otherwise— he couldn't. He refused to believe that there was any possibility of Stiles truly being gone. Not yet. "What about the scroll?"

"It could work." Lydia mumbled.

"What scroll? The one you stole from the armoured transport van?" Rachel questioned and Scott nodded. "Does it have easy to follow instructions on how to expel a nogitsune?"

"Something like that." Scott responded, sighing. He didn't look overly excited by that though, which hinted that the instructions weren't so easy to follow.

"Please tell me it doesn't require any ritual sacrifices." They'd just stopped a druid committing ritual sacrifices, there was no way in hell they were going to start committing them themselves. That'd be a whole other level of hypocrisy— and a far lower level than Scott would ever be willing to go.

"The scroll said to change his body." The banshee informed her.

"That's if I translated it correctly." Deaton added in, unsure of himself. There was no room for error in a case like this; even the slightest mistake could be disastrous. "We're looking for a cure in something that might actually be nothing more than a proverb or metaphor."

"What if he doesn't want it?" Scott asked. "He's never asked to be a werewolf."

"He's never asked not to be, either." Rachel countered, remembering how Stiles' heart had skipped a beat on that night nearly a year ago when he declined Peter's offer. "What if it saves his life?"

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

"Okay, then I'll do it." Rachel shrugged. She'd done it before and didn't hit an artery, it wasn't rocket science to anyone who knew basic human anatomy. There was a reason werewolves often went for the sides of a person's torso— it was the best chance at missing anything major. Sure, there were some mildly important organs there, but the major artery ran through the centre.

Not that it would matter much, anyway. If the curse was going to take, it was going to take. And if it wasn't.. it wasn't. There was no grey when it came to lycanthropy, only black and white. And kanimas. Here's hoping that was a one time deal.

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

"I can try calling Derek again." Scott suggested.

Rachel shook her head. "Don't bother. He never answers."

"Maybe we should call someone else." Lydia stated, despite starting out as though it were meant to be a question. There was no point in asking, because no one was going to actively encourage her— it was a terrible idea, but it was their last option.

The chimera furrowed her brows. "Who else is there to call? Did I miss something?"

—

Rachel missed a lot.

For starters, Lydia had Peter's number. For seconders, what the fuck? As far as Rachel could remember, Lydia hated Peter. He nearly killed her, and was the reason she now had voices in her head and a supernatural pull toward dead bodies. She was briefly Beacon Hills' local lunatic because of him. If Rachel were Lydia, she'd have a damn restraining order, not his number.

Not that a restraining order would help. Murdering people was illegal, but he still did it. No one in the Hale family had any regards for the law, Rachel was a prime example of that. Breaking and entering had been a daily activity for her up until.. this.

A soft sigh escaped the brunette's lips as she walked towards the front door. She didn't want to face Peter, but she also didn't want to sit in the dining room and glare at the nogitsune for another second— she hadn't blinked in ten minutes, and her eyes were on fire. Rachel could only contemplate the fox's murder for so long before actually going through with it, so she reluctantly chose to get the door.

She didn't say a greeting when she swung the front door open, and surprisingly, Peter didn't look quite as smug as usual. He almost appeared to be sympathetic after taking in the girl's appearance; her bruised eyes and pale skin. She looked just as bad as Stiles did, if not, worse, and look on her face was impossible to distinguish between exhaustion and complete insanity.

Perhaps allowing her to commit herself had been a bad idea.

"So, where is he?" The former alpha questioned, stepping past Rachel into the house.

The brunette wordlessly closed the door behind him and walked back into the living room, knowing he'd follow. Rachel didn't know if Peter knew about the supernatural prison within Eichen House, and a part of her didn't want to know— she didn't want to believe that he would do that to her. He nearly killed Derek and forced her to witness her family burning, but she couldn't let herself believe he hated her that much.

"He's paralyzed for now, but we don't know how much time we have left." Lydia spoke as soon as she saw Peter.

It took less than a few seconds of observation for the eldest Hale to reach a verdict. "He doesn't look like he would survive a slap across the face, much less the bite of a werewolf."

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

The sinking feeling in his chest bled into his tone of voice, it was clear that despite being fearful of what would happen, he was hoping they'd found the answer to saving Stiles. They weren't just running out of time, they were running out of options, and that had been his last resort.

"This is more a war of the mind than the body." Peter told them, watching the possessed teenager closely. "There are better methods to winning this battle."

"What kind of methods?" Rachel furrowed her brows, her dark eyes narrowing. Was it time to start searching for an exorcism?

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

—

"..I'll do it. But only if you help, and only if Scott and Rachel don't know about it."

Anyone who knew Rachel knew if they didn't want her to know about something, they better keep it at least a mile away from her supernatural hearing. Eavesdropping was her talent, and even if she was on the verge of dropping dead, when Peter pulled Lydia aside and they began whispering, she couldn't not listen in. To the end of the conversation, anyway. The start had been drowned out by Scott, who decided it was the perfect time to ask her how she was doing.

He, like any good friend, wasn't listening in on private conversations, even if they included a psychopath— but Rachel knew better. Peter Hale did not do things for free, or out of the kindness in his heart. There was no kindness in his heart. He did things because he wanted things in return. He used people for his own personal gain, Lydia especially, and if he was doing anything for her, it meant she had something he really wanted. Something that he couldn't just take without causing a real stir. Information.

It intrigued Rachel, and she wanted to know more, but it wasn't something she could remain focused on when the nogitsune was in the same room as her. No matter which way she turned, it felt as though his murderous gaze was always on her. Burning a hole straight through her. It hurt. As much as something that didn't actually touch her could hurt, anyway.

"So, do we have a plan?" Deaton questioned.

Peter turned towards the veterinarian, now standing directly behind the nogitsune. "Scott is going to try and dig through pale and sickly Evil Stiles' 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 asked.

"Somebody needs to go in with you." The older Hale stated obviously.

Peter's gaze moved towards Lydia, the obvious choice, but Rachel wasn't about to let that happen. Fighting against every muscle in her body trying to move away, she walked over to the couch and sat down beside the demonic fox possessing her best friend. When no one said anything, she spoke up. "What are we waiting for? Let's get this party started."

The nogitsune side eyed her, his expression blank. She didn't look towards him. She already knew what he was thinking. She'd been tricked by him once, and now she wanted to go for round two. The joke was going to be on him this time, though. She and Scott knew Stiles better than anyone, they knew how he thought and they knew their way through his mind.

"Do you really thi—"

"Shut up and tell us what we have to do." Rachel snapped, not even bothering to look over at her uncle. She didn't think it was a good idea at all. In fact, she knew it was a horrible idea, but she was going to do it anyway, because she wasn't going to let the nogitsune get the best of her again. She was going to get him the hell out of Stiles' head.

Peter gave her an annoyed glance before he looked back towards Scott. "You're going to have to guide him out somehow. Try to give him back control of his mind, his body."

"Could you elaborate on the "somehow"?" Lydia questioned, raising a brow.

"I'm not feeling very specific at the moment." Peter responded nonchalantly. "Improvise."

"What if this is just another trick?" Scott chimed in, now standing behind the nogitsune where Peter had been moments prior. It was a very real possibility, one of which no one had fully ruled out— but what other options did they have? They could go forward and risk falling into yet another trap, or they could do nothing, and potentially forfeit their only chance to get Stiles back.

"When are you people going to start trusting me?" Peter snapped, clearly unaware that Scott had been referring to the nogitsune.

"I meant him." The teen wolf clarified.

"Oh."

"Scott, " Deaton spoke moments before Rachel intended to, not wanting another conversation to begin and further stall the inevitable. "We're running out of time."

Scott nodded and Rachel tensed up. She knew what was coming; claws on the back of her neck always reminded her of every bad memory she'd ever had forced into her mind, and this was no exception. Rachel didn't have long to think though, she didn't even get the chance to take a deep breath and calm her nerves. Scott didn't either— it was better that way. If they thought about it, they'd think of all the ways it could go horribly wrong.

Rachel felt Scott's claws pierce the back of her neck and her eyes squeezed shut. Like the darkness behind her eyelids, the stinging pain didn't last very long. It was as though she'd blinked and she was somewhere else entirely, but she couldn't remember opening her eyes. She could blink, though. She was in her mind. No.

She was in Stiles' mind.

She came to the realization that she was laying down when she took notice of the lights overhead. Instinctively she attempted to sit up, but was unable. Rachel didn't even need to look down or try to move her arms to know what had prevented it— she recognized the familiar feeling. The five point restraint system, the uncomfortably hard mattress.. Eichen House.

"Son of a bitch." Rachel cursed, mentally rolling her eyes. Of course it was Eichen House. Why wouldn't it be? She wasn't expecting it, but she wasn't surprised. The nogitsune was almost becoming predictable. Scott, however, was not— he was laying on the bed next to hers, though, tugging at the restraints as though they'd just fall off with ease. "Seriously?"

"What? You got a better idea?" Scott huffed, trying to loosen the cuffs around his wrists. It wasn't working.

"You're a werewolf."

"We're in Stiles' head."

"So?" Rachel questioned, breaking the cuff around her left wrist with one swift movement. The brunette was so surprised she'd actually been able to break free, she had a ghost of a smirk on her face as she spoke her next words. "The supernatural still exists inside Stiles' head."

Scott broke out of his restraints as Rachel did the rest of hers. She was quick to get up off the bed, the uncomfortable mattress holding far too many nightmares for her to withstand it any longer than absolutely necessary. Hopefully that'd be the last time she was ever on it.

"What now?" Scott questioned.

"I don't know. I've never been in someone else's head before." The chimera grumbled, looking around the room. "You wanna play I Spy? I'll go first. I spy.. a door."

Both teenagers turned towards the very obvious door. It was closed and presumably locked, but it didn't appear to be anything the two of them couldn't break. The obvious exit was always the suspicious exit, but in this case, it was also the only exit, leaving them without many other options. Remaining in the small Eichen House styled room wasn't going to find Stiles.

Scott was the first to reach for the door handle, checking to see if it was locked. It wasn't. "Stay behind me."

"Famous last words." Rachel mumbled as he opened the door, taking a step back just in case. Bad choice. As soon as Scott was out of the room, the door slammed shut before Rachel could follow. "Seriously?"

The chimera groaned loudly and kicked the door with every ounce of strength she had. It didn't move. Of course it didn't move. She was where she belonged, all locked up, why would the nogitsune allow her to get out? The only reason she got out of Eichen House was because he wanted her to get out. The only reason any of them did anything anymore was because he wanted them to do it.

"Bravo, fuckface." Rachel clapped slowly at the closed door, applauding the demonic fox's trick. "You put me back in a box. Way to go. Great job! Too bad you're still not gonna win. 'Cause Scott's gonna find Stiles, and he's gonna get me out of here."

Did she really believe that? Rachel wasn't sure. She wasn't going to underestimate Scott, but she also wasn't going to overestimate him either because that led to disappointment, and she'd had more than enough disappointment in her lifetime. She definitely wasn't going to sit on her ass and do nothing, though. She couldn't fight, she couldn't look for Stiles, but there was one thing she could do, and she was damn good at it.

"How do you think it'll feel to lose at your own game, huh? You worked so hard.. Ah, who am I kidding, you're already losing. I mean, look around. Chaos, strife.. pain. You have everyone's.. don't you? Oh, no, you don't. You couldn't take my pain, remember? I know how badly you wanted it. You're insatiable, aren't you? Yeah, you are. You crave pain more than anything, and you know I have enough to kill."

Taunting a demon was never a good idea, but when did Rachel ever make good life choices? Not today, that's for sure. Maybe, just maybe, if she could get the damn thing to focus on her, finding Stiles would be a little easier for Scott.

"But you also know I can't feel the pain. Not all of it, anyway. I know it's there, locked away in my mind by hell knows what, but I can't feel it. It's like an itch I can't scratch— a word on the tip of my tongue that I just can't seem to remember. It should bother me, but it's been there for so long, I've become numb to it. Thanks to you, I've become numb to a lot.

"Did I surprise you when I didn't go after Isaac? I don't know what you did to him, but I know it's your fault he's trying to kill the twins. Did you do something to them, too? Of course you did, that was a stupid question. I'm sure they'd still kill him without influence, though. I wonder if Allison and Kira will get there in time. I should be worried about them all, but I— I don't have that feeling in my chest. I'm not sure I have any feelings anymore.

"You might think that's a good thing, but I promise you, it's not. Not for you, anyway. You see, if I don't feel anything, that means you can't win. You can take away everyone I love, beat me, break me, kill me, but that's not going to change anything. You don't just need all the pieces on the board, you need what they feel.  You can't take what I can't feel. And I don't feel anything."

Famous last words.

A ghost of a smirk appeared on the brunette's chapped lips, but faltered as a chill ran down her spine. She spun around only to have a strong gloved hand clasp tightly around her throat. It lifted her up, cutting off her air supply as her feet left the floor and she clawed at the wrist of the person holding her. A momentary glance up sent a wave of panic through her chest as her watery eyes took in the face of a Dread Doctor.

He held her neck in one hand, and a metal syringe in the other; Rachel didn't even have a chance to look at what the syringe contained before the needle pierced her skin just above her collarbone and the contents were injected into her bloodstream. Her body tensed up as her blood ran cold and she slowly began to stop fighting for freedom, her arms falling limp at her sides.

Rachel's vision clouded with silver as mercurous tears started to roll down her cheeks within the mind of Stiles and out in reality. Her head slowly slumped to the side and her lungs burned. The need for air intensified with each passing second, but her will to fight died long before the burning began.

"Rachel."The brunette jolted when she heard her name echo faintly in the distance. She believed it was nothing more than a hallucination brought on by the lack of oxygen, until she heard it again. This time, louder. "Rachel!"

She knew that voice.

Rachel grabbed the Dread Doctor's wrist tightly. "You're not real."

Her voice was barely even a whisper. His hand seemed to squeeze even tighter around her neck as she attempted to speak again, but she knew better than to fall for another trick. "You're not real."

This time it came out in her normal voice, without any sign of strain whatsoever despite the hand still wrapped tightly around her neck. That was all she needed. She broke free of the Dread Doctor's grip and spun back towards the door, slamming her whole body against it with as much force as she had.

The door flew open and Rachel continued through, barely managing to stay upright as she stumbled into the white warehouse sized room. Scott was beside her, looking disheveled and alarmed but otherwise okay— Rachel rubbed at her eyes, but found they were dry. Even the tears had been a trick. In there, anyway.

"Rachel, look." Scott pointed straight ahead of them.

The Hale girl turned, inhaling sharply as she caught sight of Stiles - the real Stiles - seated on a tree stump with the bandage wrapped, bomber jacket clad nogitsune, playing some sort of board game. He was deeply focused on the game, and didn't seem to notice they'd entered the room.

The two supernatural teenagers broke out into a sprint towards the tree stump. They ran for what had to have been at least three minutes straight as fast as they could, but when they both came to a stop, they weren't any closer to Stiles and the nogitsune. If anything, they were farther away.

"Stiles!" Rachel yelled, waving her arms in an attempt to get his attention. Scott yelled his name a few times as well, but neither gained so much as a glance. "Stiles! Over here!"

"Stiles!"

"Okay, I don't think this is working." The chimera huffed, out of breath from having just screamed her friend's name. She'd lost count of how many times the two of them had yelled. There was no way in hell Stiles could hear them.

"What else can we do?" Scott exhaled.

"Howl?"

"If he didn't hear you screaming.."

"I'm not his alpha." Rachel shot back. The alpha of a pack had a connection with everyone in it— as far as she could tell, it didn't matter how supernatural they were. There was no way Scott should've been able to hear her scream in Eichen House, but he did, because she was in his pack.

Scott didn't have to be reminded twice. He roared so loud the room shook, and Rachel was right, Stiles heard it. Loud and clear. It snapped him out of whatever daze he'd been in during his game with the nogitsune, and he cleared the board between them of all pieces with one swipe. The nogitsune slammed his fists down on the empty board, and the last thing Rachel could recall hearing was the demon letting out a loud yell before she was snapped back to reality along with Scott.

"Did it work?" The brunette questioned as she jumped up from the couch. She couldn't stand to sit there any longer than necessary, especially if it didn't work.

Scott echoed her question, breathing heavily. "What happened?"

Everyone was looking at Stiles - the nogitsune - but he wasn't moving. No one was quite sure who was in control of the body sitting in front of them, but the chilling stillness led them to assume it wasn't Stiles.

No one really noticed Peter dragging Lydia aside, or the little conversation that went on between them— even Rachel admittedly wasn't listening too intently, and only caught a few words. The former alpha demanding a name.. and Lydia whispering the name to him. It was only when Rachel realized she knew the name that she became significantly more interested.

Malia.

What did Peter want with Malia Tate? It was a bit of a leap assuming Lydia meant Tate, but the girl didn't exactly have a common given name. She was the first and only person the chimera had ever met names Malia. It couldn't be a coincidence. The word 'coincidence' didn't exist in Beacon Hills. Not to mention the fact that she was also a werecoyote— there was no way it couldn't be Tate.

"Lydia—" Rachel was just about to ask the strawberry blonde to talk to her outside, but was abruptly cut off as Stiles lurched forward onto the floor.

No one had a chance to react as he frantically ripped the tape from his mouth and reached inside. The realization didn't seem to set in until he was practically reaching down his throat, he was choking. He began pulling something out of his mouth, coughing and gagging as whatever it was blocked any oxygen from entering his lungs.

It appeared to be gauze— identical to what the bomber jacket clad version of nogitsune was bandaged in. It was gauze, not appeared to be— but seeing no longer felt like believing. The entire scene looked like a horrific rendition of the age old magic trick where a magician would pull a chain of colourful cloths from their mouth to amuse little children. Except the magician was a demon, and the little children were not amused.

A pile had accumulated when he finally reached the end, but the horror movie was far from over. An Oni-styled black smoke had begun to emit from from the pile of gauze, and if that wasn't bad enough, gauze covered hands emerged along with it. Of course, hands didn't come without arms— and arms didn't come without a body. Unless of course there was a serial killing butcher on the loose, but unfortunately for them, that wasn't the case.

A full body crawled out of the smoking gauze, and it was that of the original nogitsune— still wearing a bomber jacket, with gauze covering what would've been any exposed skin. It lunged forward, but was caught by Scott and Peter and pushed back down onto the couch. The nogitsune struggled against their hold, not seeming to want to hurt them, but instead to just get free of their grasp.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Scott yelled at Peter who was still fighting to keep the nogitsune down. He'd also taken notice of how it didn't seem to want to hurt them as much as it just wanted to get free— it could've been another trick, but so could this. He had to know for sure.

Some of the bandages had loosened amidst the struggle, and all he had to do was push aside a few to know that it wasn't the nogitsune beneath the bandages. Not his body, anyway. The teen began to unwrap the bandages, the person beneath them also tearing away at them. Stiles was breathing heavy when the bandages covering his mouth were removed, and when his eyes were no longer covered, to their surprise, the malicious glare the nogitsune held wasn't present.

"Scott?" He sounded like Stiles. But so did the nogitsune.

"Scott." Deaton's voice took everyone's attention away from Stiles. It took the teen a moment to realize just why his attention had been warranted, but Deaton never ended up needing to clarify. It was blatantly obvious that two people were now missing from the room— Stiles and Lydia.

Not Stiles. The nogitsune and Lydia.

"Where are they? Where are they?" Scott shouted at the boy seated on the couch. But he didn't know.

They'd fallen for another trick.

—

UNEDITED.

so.. 2018. unspoken is 3 years old. new covers for both books. i'm now older than rachel. i'm not sure how i feel about that last one. i am sure how i feel about the next two things, though. unspoken is at 519k reads. i'm at 4k followers. 4,000 people tolerate me. the chapters of my mediocre fanfiction have been viewed over half a million times. i could cry a river of happy tears. i love you all.

now, for where i've been.. i had a bit of a breakdown on christmas night, and i've been struggling to come back. my anxiety reached an all time high, and i had a panic attack for the first time in over a year. it fucked me up. i've been keeping myself heavily distracted in fear the feelings will come back if i don't, and writing requires focus. they still hit me occasionally, but i'm working on it. i hope to finish this book very, very soon and continue on with the third in this series.

season 5, here we come.