Hey uh, it's been a while. Sorry about that. There wasn't much of a response last chapter and then there's been some family drama and basically I entirely forgot to update. But I'm here now, I guess. Also just a reminder that this story will be 20 chapters long, so we're almost at the end. Anyway. Here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it.

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There are three things Stiles has never told anyone. The first is his real name; Scott's the only person outside his family who knows, and that's only because the Sheriff had told him. The second is that he has a slight obsession with the Spice Girls; this isn't something he's embarrassed about, exactly, but he also doesn't want to go around broadcasting it. And the third, and currently most worrisome, thing is that he's having doubts about his relationship with Malia.

The feeling has been growing for a while, and in the days following the new moon, he finally lets himself examine his feelings. And in all honesty, he's terrified. It's not just that Malia could hurt him, or someone else, or that she could probably take out half the pack if she completely lost control – that's all bad enough, but it's not the only thing that bothers him. No, the other part is entirely selfish, which is why he hasn't mentioned it to anyone. He's new to this whole relationship thing, having never quite managed to get a girlfriend before now (of course his first real girlfriend would be a wild werecoyote, go figure), but he doesn't think it's supposed to be this hard.

He's been spending more and more time with Malia, and although he does enjoy her company, that's not the only reason. Part of it these days is to keep an eye on her, because she's pulling away from him and he's not sure she's coming back. Malia's good at keeping her feelings to herself; she can be completely closed-off even when they're in the middle of a conversation, and he can feel miles away from her even when they're sitting right next to each other. In an effort to keep the peace, he hasn't talked to her about it; she's just as likely to take offence or to misinterpret and assume he's trying to break up with her.

But he can't keep going on like this forever. It's been almost a week since the new moon, since that night he and the others had tracked her into the woods. They haven't really spoken about it, but the weight of words unsaid is starting to take its toll. Every time Stiles looks at Malia, he's reminded that she's not really his – part of her belongs to the wild, to the woods she grew up in and the cave she called home. He can't quite reach that wild part of her, and she hasn't found a way to explain it to him.

And then, in the back of his mind, there's the thought that she might just decide to up and leave. There's nothing keeping her here, not really. She's struggling to keep up in school, she and her dad are still awkward around each other, and she hasn't quite found her place in the pack yet. Sometimes Stiles thinks that he's the only thing keeping her here, and while he knows it should be flattering, mostly he just feels guilty. What if he's keeping her away from where she's really meant to be?

Whenever he tries to talk to Scott about it, the alpha does his best to reassure him. But Scott is Malia's alpha, not so much her friend, so of course he wouldn't really get it. There aren't many other people Stiles can talk to anymore. Once upon a time he might have considered talking to Allison about it – she always had a fresh perspective, a kind word, a logical suggestion. And since his relationship with Malia seems to be based mostly on emotions, logic would be more than welcome. But she's gone, and he can't even think what she would say to him. Would she tell him to stay loyal to Malia and work through it? Or would she say that he can't be Malia's anchor, that she needs to learn to stand on her own two (sometimes four) feet?

For one wild moment he debates talking to Lydia about it, but there's something a little too awkward about that idea. He's not desperately in love with her anymore – and it's not like she ever returned the feelings anyway – but they still have history, and that means he can't talk to her about his current girlfriend. Which leaves only one real option.

Kira's surprised when he shows up at her house unannounced, but she covers it quickly and invites him in for a cup of tea. He notices that she's given up on coffee, which is just as well; it had made her more jittery than even Stiles usually is.

"So," she says as she pours tea into a flower-patterned cup, "what's on your mind?"

Stiles runs his finger along the rim of the teacup, wondering how to start. Kira's one of the least judgmental, most supportive people he knows, and Stiles knows he can talk to her about anything; it's just that he doesn't know how to start. But she's sitting across from him, a patient smile on her face as she sips her tea, and he knows he needs to start somewhere.

"I was wondering if -" he starts, but then there's a knock at the door.

Kira shoots him an apologetic look, sets her cup down on the table, and goes to answer the door. By the time she comes back, Stiles has already finished his tea, and to his surprise it had actually made him feel better. He remembers a time when the pack had been particularly agitated – over some new supernatural evil, although he can't remember what – and Deaton had made them all some kind of honey-lemon-camomile tea that had smelled faintly fruity and felt vaguely magical. Deaton had explained later that it was actually a magical blend, meant to enhance calmness and encourage inner peace. Stiles wonders if there's some kind of traditional kitsune tea.

All thoughts of this vanish as Kira returns, with a painfully familiar strawberry blonde trailing behind her. Lydia hesitates when she sees Stiles, but then she just sits down opposite him, not looking at him, and Kira diffuses the tension by pouring everyone more tea. Stiles looks at Lydia, realizing how tired she seems, and he wants to ask if she's okay; but by this point he knows he has no right to ask her that, not after this rift has grown between them. So he drinks his tea and waits for Kira to take the lead. She does after a while, but she doesn't look happy about it; she's not used to being the centre of attention.

"Scott says he thinks he has a lead on who's behind all the murders," she says, and it strikes Stiles yet again just how strange their lives are. Kira's tone is casual, like she's talking about school or shopping rather than brutal murders.

"Good," Lydia says, although her wide eyes and pale face take away from the intended effect of the word. As if she can sense Stiles looking at her intently, she clears her throat and asks, "What does he think?"

"He said something about some kind of demon." Kira shrugs, well used to Scott chasing up leads and following theories on his own. "He went to talk to Deaton about it."

Stiles had come here to ask for advice about his relationship, but he's reminded just how pathetically unimportant that is in the grand scheme of things. So he doesn't know how to talk to his werecoyote girlfriend; it's not like they're in mortal danger (for once). He has more important things to worry about. Thoughts of Malia fall away as he, Lydia, and Kira discuss the murders. He's not sure why Lydia's here – maybe she and Kira were intending on hanging out – but he's suddenly grateful she is. They even exchange a couple words, although they don't stray from the topic at hand.

They've been there for almost an hour when everything goes to hell. Lydia offers to go get more tea, leaving Stiles and Kira talking about the upcoming lacrosse game. Just as Stiles is about to ask Kira if she'd like to come and practise with him sometime (if she's as coordinated with a lacrosse stick as she is with her sword, she might be able to offer some pointers) a noise stops him.

It's a shriek, high-pitched and full of fear, and it's coming from the kitchen.

"Lydia," Stiles gasps, scrambling to his feet and sprinting into the kitchen, Kira a couple steps behind. He's seen a lot of strange things in his time, especially since Scott got bitten and they started on this whole crazy adventure, but he's still not prepared for what he sees now.

Lydia is standing by the fridge, one hand holding a teapot and the other clutching her shirt, near her heart, as if she's terrified. And a second later Stiles can see why. Standing a couple feet away from her, in front of the large windows, is someone who should be dead. Stiles should know, he'd been to her funeral, and yet here she stands, a malicious grin on her face and her eyes glowing blue.

Stiles instinctively pushes Kira back, and Kate whirls around to face him, her smile growing more broad as she sees him. Lydia spins around, sees Stiles and Malia, and goes deathly pale.

"No," she says turning back to face Kate. "Kate, please, no -"

"You know the deal, Lydia," Kate says, still watching Stiles.

Kira lets out a gasp of recognition – she'd never met Kate, but she's heard about her. Stiles had hoped nobody else would ever have to live through Kate's completely sociopathic regimes, which should have been a given since she had her throat slit by an alpha werewolf hyped up on power, but now she's back. She's back.

"Lydia," Stiles says, his voice surprisingly calm, "get away from her."

The banshee doesn't move. She keeps staring at Kate, and Stiles suddenly has the feeling he's missing something. Lydia had told them Kate was back, had said she'd been haunting her, but they'd all thought it was just her banshee powers going haywire. But Kate's really back, which means they're all in real trouble.

"Come on, Lydia," Kate says, finally switching her attention to the banshee, "we've talked about this before. You know how it has to go down."

Stiles steps forward, but his bravery fails as Kate turns her steel-blue eyes on him. He addresses Lydia, even though he can't look away from the hunter. "What do you mean, you've talked about this? How long has Kate been coming to you?"

"A while," Lydia says absently, and Stiles can almost see the wheels in her head turning. She's working something through, puzzling it out, and Stiles feels a flicker of terror. Anything that has Lydia Martin this scared can't bode well for any of them.

"Don't be modest, Lyds," Kate says cheerfully, finally looking away from Stiles. "You've been with me from the start."

Stiles feels something catch in his throat, and something clicks in his mind. "With her?" he says, looking at Lydia now, even though she won't look at him. "Lydia, are you – are you helping her?"

This at last shocks Lydia out of her semi-stupor. "No," she cries, turning to face Stiles, but there's something in her eyes, something he can't read – like she's hiding something from him. "Stiles, I didn't -"

"How else could I have managed this?" Kate says, spreading her arms wide as if to indicate whatever crazy plan she's working on. "You're not just a banshee, Lydia, you're a genius. I couldn't have done this without you."

Lydia turns back to the hunter, her hand tightening on the teapot until she almost snaps the handle. "Stop," she snarls. "That's not how it happened -"

She breaks off, screwing up her face like she's in pain, and Stiles feels his heart constrict. He knows Lydia would never deliberately help a sociopathic hunter murder people, but she could be manipulated into doing it – like she was with bringing Peter back from the dead. Stiles feels sick.

"She's known about it from the start," Kate says, talking to Stiles and Kira now, while Lydia reaches for the table like her legs are about to give way. "She only told you all about me because I wanted her to. She's been the perfect little helper – she's done everything I asked."

Stiles' feelings of apprehension grow. Something's not right here – other than the obvious – but he can't quite put his finger on what it is.

"Unfortunately," Kate goes on, her voice dripping with feigned concern, "she's played her part, and now it's time to let her go."

Before anyone can react, Kate transforms into something that Stiles has never seen before. It looks like a werejaguar, as far as he can tell, although he's no expert. Not that it matters – all that matters is the fact that she's drawn her long claws and she's now moving toward Lydia. Without thinking, Stiles darts forward, pushing Lydia out of the way and turning to face Kate. She raises her claws, preparing to strike, and Stiles closes his eyes, bracing himself for it. Somehow, this feels right. He doesn't want to die, but if his death gives Lydia and Kira the chance to escape, then it will be worth it.

But the killing blow never comes. There's a rush of air and an intake of breath, and when he opens his eyes Lydia is standing between him and Kate, holding up a hand to stop her. And for some reason, Kate has stopped. Her hand is still outstretched, her claws are still razor sharp, but she's looking at Lydia with curiosity rather than murder in her eyes.

"Stop," Lydia says, barely more than a whisper. "I'll do it."

Stiles has no idea what just happened, but he can't shake the feeling that their fate is now sealed.

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