Brace Yourself

-Kenxi

As soon as Stiles entered the school he saw her.

"Crap!" He yelped, ducking his head and raising his textbooks to hide his face. "Dude," he told Scott in a hushed voice, "hide me now."

Scott just stared at his friend, confused.

Stiles widened his eyes and nodded to a door to their right, trying to get the message across. But, as usual, Scott was the most clueless True Alpha to have ever freaking existed on the planet. Maybe even the universe.

When the tactic failed, miserably, he just took control and yanked Scott towards the door with him, keeping him on his left so that she wouldn't see him, possibly. They made it into the empty storage closet, and Stiles peaked through the small window to see if she was still there. He jerked his head back in a flailing motion, nearly falling over at the sudden balance shift. Yep, she was still there.

"Stiles, what the heck?" Scott asked, holding his books to his chest. Stiles just shook his head, running his hands through his messy hair. Man, he needed a haircut.

"Malia and I sort of had a fight two days ago." Stiles made a face and slid down the wall.

Scott blinked, still not seeming to get it. "Okay, so what? Now you can't talk to her about it? What'd you two fight about?"

Oh boy. Sometimes the poor kid seemed so brave and smart. Other times, like now, it was as if he had never learned a thing in his life. Or at least was unable to retain that which he had learned.

"It doesn't matter, Scott. The point is that we fought, and I just do not want to talk to her right now. I also highly doubt that she wants to talk to me."

The bell to go to class rang loudly, startling the boys in the sketchy closet. Scott sighed, holding a hand out to pull Stiles back up from the floor.

Stiles took it and Scott said, "How about we talk about it after school, huh?" When Stiles pouted, he also added with a slight grin, "Like you said, don't wanna to be late for class."

"You're a terrible friend, you know that?"

"Love you too, bro."

00000

The day was long and overall tedious. Any little excitement Stiles previously had for the new school year had all but vanished, leaving him bored and bouncy as ever. He took some Adderall during second period, but it hardly did anything for his focus. He was almost going out of his freaking mind. Almost.

He loved Malia, he really did. They both shared a connection that was mainly the reason they had been going out in the first place. She was right there with him in Eichen when he had felt utterly alone with nothing but the Nogitsune's torments for company. While their problems in life were different, the way they both had to face them was so similar. They understood each other in so many ways, and that was both comforting and kind of peaceful. Right after the Nogitsune, peace and comfort was just what Stiles needed. Malia was what Stiles needed.

The problem was that, now, things were getting just a little out of hand. Sure, she had lived in the wild for years, but her bluntness and lack of understanding in many—if not most—things was beginning to be a bit much for Stiles to handle.

He wanted to help her, though. He really, really wanted to help her. She had gotten him through the worst time in his life, and he wanted to return the favor by helping her. But two nights ago, she had said something that Stiles couldn't just easily let go.

"Who is this?" Malia had asked him that night, gesturing at a picture.

Stiles had been setting his books in his backpack, preparing for school before they went to bed. He looked up at her when she spoke, however, and then towards what she was pointing to. He swallowed and took a breath. "That's my mom," he told her, standing up and walking over. The woman in the photo was beautiful, smiling at the camera like she was daring the photographer to snap a picture.

Malia cocked her head, as if thinking. "Oh, yeah," she said, pulling her thick hair into a hair band. "She went insane or something and died, right?"

He literally had to bite his tongue hard and turn away from her, digging his nails into his hands. The pain cleared his mind a little, but not much. Malia doesn't understand, he told himself. He had created a sort of mantra for whenever she frustrated him. Malia was a werecoyote for a long time, and now she doesn't understand certain things sometimes. Malia has a low emotional quotient right now and only you can help her, Stiles. So help her.

She must have seen his face, because she said, "Sorry, did I say something wrong?"

Unable to speak right then, Stiles just closed his eyes and nodded, trying not to think of his mother right then. This was not a conversation he wanted to have with Malia of all people, not now, anyway.

"How'd it happen?"

Stiles found it in him, somehow, to reply. "She had a rare form of dementia. Her brain began to shrink and there was nothing anyone could do." He had learned that response years ago, and it somehow was easier to say because it was less emotionally connected. By telling people the medical facts, he avoided the personal ones. Like how she would wake up screaming sometimes from horrible nightmares as her sickness began to take her sanity. Like how Stiles had been alone to watch the life slip from her eyes. Like how he still had nightmares about her every now and again.

Malia didn't even blink. "Yes there was," Stiles' head shot up at that, but her expression remained the void of emotion. "She could have been bitten, right? Being turned into a werewolf would have saved her life."

Now he was more bewildered than anything. "Malia, we didn't know about all this supernatural stuff back then. And even if we did, I'm pretty sure my mom would have wanted to go out human anyway. She always said that it was the way things were meant to happen." He softened his voice at that bit, remembering how thoughtful she sounded when she had told him that. That things would be okay in the end, no matter what, because God had control and would do what needed to be done.

But, as usual, Malia just didn't get it. "Well then she was stupid. Because if I was about to lose my mind, I would do whatever it took to stay sane. Even if it meant losing my humanity. Why wouldn't she want to live if she had the opportunity? It sounds to me like she was selfish."

Stiles was so stunned he could only choke out one word: "Selfish?" His mother was one of the most selfless people in the world. How could Malia even be saying these things right now?

"Yeah, selfish. She left you, didn't she?"

He had wiped a hand over his face then, stuck right in between being irate and horrified. Stiles didn't even know what to say. Well, he knew what he'd say to a normal person, but that was not Malia's case in any form of the word. He couldn't make her understand, not right then. Maybe not ever.

"Malia," he whispered, his eyes burning with the resurfacing memories of his mother's death, "I think you should go."

Of course, now her expression shifted into confusion. "What? Why?"

"I just…I can't talk to you right now."

"And by "talk" you mean you can't be with me right now, I assume?" Right. Now she was reading between the lines.

He took in a shaky breath. "I know it's not all your fault, but I just don't think I can do this. Please leave."

Malia lifted head and pursed her lips slightly. "Alright. I'm sorry if what I said was wrong, but it's how I feel." And with that she turned and left through the open window.

That's the problem, Stiles had thought. You don't feel, you just think.

They hadn't seen or spoken to each other since.

He had been pretty flippant with the topic earlier with Scott, but the things Malia had said still hurt, even if he was no longer entirely upset with her. She was struggling with her place in this world just like anyone else, but he just wasn't sure that he really wanted to help her through it like before. Stiles didn't even know if she would ever see things the way most people would, and he didn't know if he could keep living his life like that. So it wasn't necessarily that he didn't want to help her, but more like he didn't think he could. Perhaps this was just the way Malia was.

The bell signaling for the end of class and the start of lunch nearly had Stiles jumping out of his seat. Man, he had to stop doing that.

As he gathered up his notebook and text book, he thought about what he was going to say to her. He couldn't avoid her forever, after all. Eventually he decided with the truth. He was going to tell her how he felt, and that he just wanted to be her friend from now on. No harm done, right?

All thoughts of reconciliation evaporated the second he saw his dad.

He had just turned a corner, going through what he was going to say in his mind, when he saw him, standing outside the principal's office, speaking to a young girl who was in tears. Immediately, Stiles remembered his horrible dream from last night and knew what had happened.

The two made eye contact and the Sheriff gave a short nod of the head towards his son, his eyes confirming the awful truth.

There'd been another death.

These deaths weren't like the last ones with the Benefactor, and they weren't like the sacrifices from before that. They were animal attacks, his dad had told him. Scott and Liam had even gone to check them out, but there was no sign of a werewolf having done it. Or Kate, for that matter. The claw marks were a bit too close together and less curved than werewolf claws, so that was ruled out. And there was really no reason to believe that this was a supernatural thing. They were just animal attacks, after all; there wasn't any evidence to prove otherwise. Even Lydia hadn't felt anything about it—no voices or screaming or anything. Stiles believed it, too. Or, he would have, if it wasn't for the dreams.

More like nightmares, actually.

Ever since the first person had been mutilated by some cougar or something, Stiles had been having nightmares of every one at the time they happened. He would usually wake up in cold sweat after seeing someone get mauled, just in time to hear his dad driving towards the scene of that same person's death.

He hadn't told anyone about it yet, not even his dad knew. There was no reason to tell. It wasn't like he was killing these people, or anything. And even though he was freaked out about seeing someone get killed horribly, and then that same person dying at about the same time he dreamt it, there wasn't anything he could do. He wondered if this was how Lydia felt when she knew someone was going to die or was dead. How she would know, but there wasn't anything she could do to stop it. It was horrifying.

Malia might have figured out something had she slept in his bed with him every night. But, luckily, before their fight she could only sneak out of her own house so many times. Her dad didn't really like the idea of her sleeping with a boy. Even if all they were doing was sleeping. Usually. She had only been present for one nightmare, but she had been too tired to really figure it out when he had woken up shaking. Thank goodness he hadn't woken up screaming yet. That for sure wouldn't get passed his dad, or Malia. But seeing how they probably wouldn't be sharing a bed any time soon, he didn't really have to worry about her finding out.

Okay, so maybe he was doing the wrong thing by keeping this all a secret, but he couldn't figure out a way to tell anyone and make it exactly relevant. Because it didn't make sense. He would just see a person get killed in his dreams, about the same time they actually died. No biggie.

The thing that freaked him out the most was not seeing people die, however, as traumatizing as it was, but the fact that he didn't see what killed them; because he was seeing the death from the killer's perspective. Almost like the killer was him.

Yeah, okay, he probably needed to tell someone about this.

00000

Stiles didn't see Malia at lunch, nor any time after that. He'd just tell her later after school. After he told Scott about their situation and of the nightmares. Yep, definitely going to tell Scott everything.

Yep, definitely going to chicken out.

No, Stiles chastised himself, you are going to go through with this. Don't be an idiot.

Lydia Martin's face suddenly popped up in his mind. Maybe he could talk to her about the nightmare thing and just tell Scott the Malia thing. Lydia would understand. She knew a heck of a lot more about death than anyone Stiles knew.

If Scott hadn't been standing next to him right then as they changed out of their Lacrosse gear, Stiles might have groaned. When had he changed so much to where he was no longer all about "ignoring the problem until eventually it just goes away"? It seemed like now days the only thing he did was go after the problem instead of staying away from it.

He needed a serious vacation.

Scott seemed to notice how glum his friend seemed, because he asked what was wrong. Stiles just finished changing back into his white t-shirt and jeans before making a joke about how the world sucks, but if it didn't suck they'd all fall off. Even though it was scientifically wrong, that it was more of a push, not a suck, he didn't care. Scott laughed and let it go—that was all that mattered.

They walked out of the locker room together, Stiles still making jokes to keep his mind off of reality. He sadly found that that was generally the reason he made jokes: to keep his brain occupied. Well, and to keep everyone else's brains occupied. That was Stiles Stilinski, always the jokester.

He was just making a sarcastic remark about some of the new sophomores on the team that year when he remembered having left his cellphone in the locker room. A couple of years ago he wouldn't have cared too much, but now, with all of the crazy things in the world being in his understanding, he decided he needed it. Just in case.

"I left my phone back in my locker," he said as he stopped walking, throwing his head back and groaning. Scott just laughed at his reaction.

"That sucks. I'll meet you at your place, though, alright? So we can talk about what happened with Malia."

Stiles brought his gaze back to his friend's eyes, glaring daggers. "You would leave me to walk all alone in an empty school to get my phone where the chance of running into Coach is so likely?"

Scott grinned, showing all of his teeth. "Yep."

"Wow. You really are a terrible friend."

His said friend sobered, slightly, and raked a hand through his hair, still smiling. "I told Kira I'd talk to her right after school for a bit before talking to you, sorry. She's waiting."

Stiles was already walking away in the opposite direction. "You owe me one!" He yelled back, even though he knew that Scott would have heard him just fine had he spoken in a normal voice. Still, it felt less strange.

The locker room was empty. So many creepy things had happened in this room—Stiles still got goose bumps being in there.

He had just gotten his locker open when he heard something that sounded like footsteps. Stiles froze, not even breathing. But everything had gone silent again, and so, after glancing around real quick, he proceeded to find his phone under the gear scattered unceremoniously inside the small space.

Just as he was about to get the heck out of there, he heard the sound again. This time he actually called out, "Coach? Are you in here?" No answer.

Now he just felt stupid. In horror movies and TV shows the victim always asked if there was anyone in the room with them right before they were brutally murdered.

Then again, this wasn't a TV show. It was probably nothing.

He turned towards the exit once more, now super ready to leave the creepy place, when he heard someone speak.

"Hello, Sweetie. Fancy meeting you here."

His blood turned cold. He knew that voice. Oh boy. This was not going to end well. He whipped around to face the enemy, but before he could even catch a glimpse to prove what he already knew to be true, something hit him hard in the chest, sending his breath right out of his mouth and his body into the hard wall.

Stiles gasped as the air was knocked out of him, and he couldn't stop the yelp when his head hit the wall. He was stunned, but before he could fall to the ground, hands grabbed him and held him upright, and he forced his head to lift and his eyes to meet his attacker's. He didn't even try to say anything, nor did he try to fight back; he knew that it would be in vain. Although the world was kind of tilting, and his focus was coming in and out, Stiles knew that face as well as he knew that voice.

Blonde hair and sparkling eyes greeted him. "Did you miss me?"

And then she pulled him away from the wall, only to slam him back into it. Pain erupted in the back of his head and he cried out again at the impact. Yep, that was going to hurt in the morning. His already messed up vision went black like a light being switched off, but he still had one last thought before he completely lost consciousness.

Kate Argent was back.

A/N: Oh dang. What is on Kate's mind, now? She is just always getting in everyone's way. And what about Stiles' nightmares? A tad freaky, no? Not sure if I pushed it a bit with the whole Malia thing. I think she is great, I do, but she also lacks a heart it would seem sometimes, so I had to put that in there. Besides, Lydia and Stiles will always be the best. :D Let me know your thoughts! Not sure how this chapter went, but yeah. I stink at updating, and at doing long chapters, so I hope you enjoy this once in a lifetime gift. Thanks mucho, please review!

-Kenxi