Chapter Nine

...

"Stiles, it's Scott. I don't want you to be dragged back into this, but I promised I'd tell you what was going on, so... Talking with the hellhound wasn't enough. That shadowy thing he took out of my chest apparently wasn't what he was meant to get and he's escaped Eichen to find whatever it was.

"Deaton's not sure, but he thinks something else might be inside of me. I mean, I'm happier that it's me and not anyone else, but... I have to be at UC Davis next week and I can't be there if I'm dead, dude.

"But don't worry! Lydia and the rest of the pack are going to protect me, so we'll be totally fine. If you've got any spells or knowledge you can send our way, I think that'd help. Malia's upset that she can't go to France again, so if you've got something to help protect me from a pissed off werecoyote, that'd be great too.

"Uh, call me when you get this message, okay?"

...

"Tomika? Uh, Jones? Hello?" Stiles said, waving a hand in front of her face. She didn't respond and Stiles frowned, then sighed. "You're going to hurt me for this, but... Tom!"

Tomika snapped out of her daze and looked up at him, glaring. "Do I really need to kick your ass again, Stilinski?"

"Uh, no? The ass-kicking isn't necessary!" he added quickly, hands held up in a gesture of peace. "You've been staring at the wall for five minutes without blinking. Everything okay?"

Tomika's eyes widened and she looked from Stiles to her notebook. She flipped through the pages, each one full of text that she hadn't written, despite the words being in her handwriting.

"Whoa, how'd you do that?" Stiles asked, seeing the pages full of ink, but not wanting to look too closely in case it was private.

"Mental projection, focuses the things I hear or see. It's usually clearer than this," Tomika added distractedly, frowning as she tried to figure out what she'd written.

Stiles looked at the notebook then, his curiosity overcoming him, and he stopped Tomika's hand from turning the page again. She looked at him, still frowning, but Stiles was focused on the words, and he turned the notebook sideways so they could both read them properly. Two words had been written, over and over and over, the font darkening with each repetition.

"Beacon Hills? Isn't that where Hale was born?" Tomika asked, frowning.

Stiles didn't respond, grabbing his phone out of his bag and bolting out of the classroom. He almost knocked into Sean and Rafe on his way past, but didn't stop or apologise, running for the door outside to call everyone.

Rafe looked to Sean and nodded for him to continue to the classroom, the recruits' workbooks in hand. He followed after Stiles, putting up a hand to placate security, who were anxious about someone running through the FBI when they didn't know why.

"I'll deal with it," Rafe said, the security officers nodding and heading back to their posts.

...

Stiles' hands shook as he turned on his phone. He didn't even get a chance to call or text anyone because he had a missed call from Scott. Stiles played the voicemail and as he listened to it, he slid down against the wall of the building as his knees gave way.

"Shit, shit, shit," Stiles muttered to himself, then ended the voicemail and immediately called his father.

"Stiles, is everything all right?" the Sheriff asked. "It's past nine there, aren't you meant to be inside already?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine, Pops. Scott called me. The hellhound escaped Eichen and is probably going to hunt him down, and it sounds like he's fine, but he's not. One of the recruits here is a banshee and she's been writing Beacon Hills like crazy. Something's going down and it's bigger than Scott realises... I've got to come back," Stiles breathed out, running a hand through his hair.

There was a moment of silence as the Sheriff tried to work out what Stiles had actually said. "We don't know what the threat is, Stiles. Parrish can talk to the hellhound again and see what's happening. He cooperated last time, so he should this time as well. I don't want you giving up on your dream; you'll regret it for the rest of your life, son."

"No, the only thing I'll regret is if everyone dies and I could've done something to stop it! I can't let that happen. I'll just apply for the program again next year. This is an emergency and it's my family, my pack. I can't, I can't..." Stiles struggled to find the words. "I won't survive this, Pops. Not like Derek did. I won't go through it and, despite everything, come out a better person. We both know that."

Stiles closed his eyes tightly as he thought of the Nogitsune, the thoughts and memories he still had in his brain, pushed as far back as possible. He knew that if anything happened to his family, his friends, his pack, then all of the thoughts and memories would bubble to the surface in an instant. The Nogitsune's knowledge of what to do to hurt, to maim, and to kill, and more importantly, how to make it last. Stiles knew that he would do all of that and more - destroy even more than the Nogitsune ever had - but it would be worse this time because he would be the one doing it; the Nogitsune wouldn't be there to blame.

He breathed in a shuddering breath, trying to keep himself under control, forcing himself to meditate in this moment of silence so he wouldn't do anything stupid anyway.

The Sheriff was silent for a moment longer. "Give us forty-eight hours before you make any rash decisions. If we can't solve it by then, then you do what you need to do. Okay?"

"You think I'll last forty-eight hours? Twenty-four," Stiles bargained.

"Thirty-six. That's a day and a half, which isn't as much time as you or the rest of the pack have taken to solve these things," the Sheriff pointed out.

Stiles winced, remembering the whole month with the Darach; even the nogitsune had been around for a solid week. But it was different now that Stiles wasn't there. "Thirty-six hours, then I'm coming back."

"I'll let you know how it goes, okay?"

"Thanks, Pops. Love you."

"Love you too," the Sheriff replied, hanging up and immediately calling Melissa.

Stiles sighed and looked out at the view. He was already late and most likely in trouble for running out without an explanation, so he figured he'd take the extra time to at least try to calm down. Noise and movement caught Stiles' attention and he startled violently, swearing when someone stepped around the side of the building. "What the shit?! Are you following me now?!" he snapped, heart beating wildly as he glared up at Agent McDickwad.

Rafe ignored his outburst and looked down at Stiles for a long moment before crouching and sitting beside him; close enough to be heard, but not to be hit by... whatever it was Stiles had done to him last time. Well, he hoped he wasn't close enough, at least. "What is a hellhound and why is it hunting my son?"

Stiles' blood ran cold.

...

End of the ninth chapter.