It was a quarter to midnight and Malia's hands couldn't stop twitching. Her uncontrollable shaking started immediately after the pack called it a night, promising to get their memories of Stiles back the next morning.

She was still sitting in Scott's dining room chair even as everyone else filed out of his house to get some sleep. She knew that if she got home she wouldn't be getting any sleep since she couldn't stop turning her bedroom into a coyote den. And she didn't want Scott to be isolated in his house without Melissa. If anyone knew a thing about losing mothers, it was her. She just couldn't leave Scott by himself to worry himself sick and ultimately take all the blame for everyone getting taken. If they are going to have any chance against the Ghost Riders, she needs to have everything under control and so does Scott and Lydia.

Malia unleashed her claws, then retracted them a few seconds later. She kept her focus on her shaking hand, releasing and retracting, over and over until she felt she had complete control over her body. But she didn't, not completely. Her fangs dropped down into her mouth unexpectedly, blood began dripping from the cuts they made on her bottom lip.

"Fuck!" She yelled, running to the sink and turning on the faucet. She grabbed a napkin, wet it, and dabbed it against her lip wound. She couldn't help but sigh miserably. How could she take on more Ghost Riders if she can't even control her fangs?

She cursed again. "Fucking useless without an anchor."

"You're not useless."

Malia turned, surprised she didn't hear Scott coming behind her. He was slouched with messy bed hair, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. She figured given the long day they had he'd be out cold for the rest of the night. She balled the napkin up and tossed it in the trash bin. The sadness inside of him was overwhelming, Malia could sense it.

"We got our asses kicked back there," she whispered. Her voice was raw with anger, but Scott could tell that she was holding back. Or trying to. "I couldn't protect you." She hoped her eyes were reflecting the point she was trying to get across. Scott reached and grabbed her wrist, holding it up between them. Her claws were out again.

"Malia, I'm fine. We're okay."

"We will be, once we get Stiles and your mom back," Malia said, pulling her wrist back from Scott's grip. He looked at her with a pleading expression.

"Malia,"

"We are not fine, Scott. I'm not okay and none of this is okay!"

He opened his mouth to speak again but paused as a look of realization spread across his face. He shook his head then groaned. "This is my fault," he began, gesturing to Malia's claws, "I didn't teach you how to be your own anchor. I didn't go over that basic training with you. I'm the reason you're losing control." He admitted, looking a little broken. Malia growled.

"No, you're not. You have nothing to do with this, Scott."

"Yes, I do! I'm the alpha and you're pack, it's literally in my job description to teach you all I know and I didn't! But it's not too late." He perked up. Before she could ask what he meant by that, her hand was grabbed again and she was being pulled out of the kitchen and into the living room.

"I don't get the point of this," she takes a seat on the couch beside him, "I already have an anchor and we're getting him back."

"Okay, but you can't always rely on Stiles. Look what happened when you did. We need to find out what makes you human and keeps you under control." He explained. Malia didn't have many things that could keep her human and she knew that, but she decided to humor him.

"You and Lydia."

"Besides us. Besides the pack. An anchor isn't a real person, it's...intangible. It's a thought. A feeling." He tried to explain again. She pulled both her legs up on the couch, crisscrossing them as she turned to face him fully. He had dark circles under his eyes.

"Okay. Well, what's your anchor?" She asked.

"Pain makes me human again. And knowing that I can use my alpha powers for good...saving people, doing the right thing. That's what I hold on to." He replied slowly, an indicator that he was thinking about something. Malia placed her hand on his shoulder to get him out of his own head. His eyes cleared from their daze as he stared back at her.

"We're gonna get her back, Scott. No matter what. We're getting everyone back." Malia promised. He nodded along with her, trying his hardest not to think about it too much.

"She's the one who told me to be my own anchor. She -" he paused and turned away as a lump formed in his throat. Malia leaned over and squished him into a much-needed hug. He buried his face in her neck, hiding the oncoming tears into her skin. She never was good at comforting people, but this felt normal. She didn't realize how badly she was craving affection from someone she cared about until his arms wrapped around her back, pulling her into him completely. She relaxed in his grip, resting her head on his shoulder, and let him take as much time as he needed to let his feelings out. He couldn't bottle them up anymore, she could tell he needed this probably more than anyone.

"I know I don't always show it but," she found her voice to speak again once Scott calmed down, "I care about the pack so much. You're like my family and I...I need to protect you guys and make sure you're alright. And when you are...I feel human." She muttered into his shirt. Scott pulls himself away to get a good look at her.

"Keeping people safe...that anchors you." He said.

"Not people. You. My pack." She elaborated with a soft smile. Scott returned it.

"It's a start."

Malia unwrapped herself from him and sat back, ignoring the cold feeling washing over her. Scott stood up and stretched his body. Malia figured she should finally go home since Scott seemed a little bit back to normal. But the thought of leaving now made her anxious.

"Can I sleep here?" She asked.

"Uh, yeah, of course. I'll just be in my room if you need me." He grazed her shoulder as he passed by the couch towards the staircase. She nodded, whispering an okay.

She wasn't going to act as if feelings were a new thing because they weren't. She just had a hard time confronting those feelings most of the time and it all stemmed back to her messed up childhood. She missed out. She missed the birthday parties, the first dates, the awkward transition from child to adult, and every other necessity in a child's life. She never did get that Polly Pocket she begged her adopted mother for when she was eight. She never learned how to bake a cake or ride a bike without the training wheels. Her youth was wasted as a savage coyote traveling through the woods, holding onto the last of her family, and harboring strong feelings of regret. She was an angry animal, hellbent on punishing herself. Those years all jumbled together and all she remembers is the loneliness of being who she was and envying the hell out of the stupid people who she caught making out in the preserve. And she remembered crying herself to sleep an endless amount of nights. She couldn't feel the human touch. Would never get that warming embrace. She was a savage beast and that's all anyone had ever seen her as for about eight years...until her limbs were changing from the intense roar of an alpha pack leader. And then she was someone different.

She knew she was safe the moment she looked up into the glowing red eyes of Scott McCall. She knew that he wouldn't hurt her. And despite his sudden outburst of not teaching her enough, he actually helped her more than anyone. Scott had shown her how to unleash her claws, control her powers, and protect the pack. He'd taught her the importance of vulnerability and strength as one. She doesn't think she's ever respected someone as much as she does Scott. And she hates to let him down. She hates to see his eyes turn soft as he stares down at his feet like he has the entire weight of the world on his shoulders. She can't even help herself when he's in danger, all those techniques he taught her fades away and she's so animalistic and primal that it scares her sometimes. It scares her that someone could kill Scott. Well, technically someone did, and she will never stop trying to kill him. But the pack doesn't kill people, no matter what. She learned that, too.

She could always trust Scott. With anything. She guessed that's why she was walking into his bedroom later that night after tossing and turning on his stiff couch. His heartbeat was steady even though she knew that he was still awake. Without thinking twice, she slipped off her shoes and lightly climbed into his bed. He turned his body to face her.

"I can't sleep down there." She whispered, snuggling into one of his pillows and breathing in his scent.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she lifted her body so that she could slip under the comforter with him, "Don't hog up all the covers." She stayed on her side of the bed, careful not to get too close to him. He scoffed but eased most of the covers on her side anyway. They laid there for a few minutes without speaking. Her breathing regulated but she still wasn't going to sleep.

"I was thinking," Scott broke the silence. Malia turned her head towards him. "Why would Stiles be your anchor? I mean, do you think that you two...were...a thing?" He asked.

"Like a boyfriend-girlfriend thing?"

"Yeah,"

"I don't know. Maybe. Probably."

"But Lydia's convinced that -"

"Let's not get into that right now, Scott. I really don't wanna find out about the girl-fight I probably had with one of my best friends over a guy I don't completely know." She huffed. Scott raised his hands in surrender.

"Hey, I'm just saying. We're gonna have to find out anyway. I just want you to be ready because we have to talk about it sooner or later."

"I know," she pouted. He smiled, then made a fanning gesture with his hand for her to come closer. Malia pouted even harder but scooted in closer to him. He flipped her body by her shoulders to face the other direction and wrapped one of his arms loosely around her torso, the other he used to prop his own head up. Malia hid her smile into the pillow.

"Why are you -"

"You need to get some rest, Lia," he snuggled his head into the back of her neck, "Can't have you falling asleep on us tomorrow."

"You're oddly confident in your cuddling skills. What if I still don't go to sleep? What if I stay awake even harder?"

"Trust me, you're going to sleep."

She felt at odds with herself as she relaxed into Scott's cuddles. The urge to cuddle him instead was strong, but the instinct to relax into his comforting embrace and let him control the cuddling situation was slightly stronger. She liked being the cuddle-ee with Scott, she wasn't sure if it were because she trusted him so much or because he was her alpha. His every breath she could feel on her neck, which seemed oddly intimate to her, but she liked it regardless.

"Night, Scott." She sighed.

"Nih-lia," he replied sleepily, muffled by the skin on her neck he was resting on. She smiled and drifted off into a comfortable sleep for the first time in weeks.