Oh my gosh you guys, you make me want to write this all the time – you're all so lovely! So I've got a really great idea for the course of this and I'm 100% certain you'll all hate me by the end!

Sound like an adventure? Let's get started!

Chapter 3

Old Memories, New Shadows

"Scott, where is he?" Lydia's voice is high-pitched as she rushes next to Scott, who's pattering of her heels start grating on his nerves. "He is in your pack, doesn't that mean anything? Can't you like, sense him or something? I have seen him have a panic attack in the past and so I did some more research about them and he was exhibiting three of the signs of a panic attack! And he needs someone there to help talk him down. He needs someone to help him before it gets too bad! He needs—"

"I know, Lydia!" Scott snaps and he feels bad about it, but not enough to apologize. "It's just been so long since I've been around him and he smells different than he used to. I'm trying, but he's… different."

"What if he leaves again, Scott?" Lydia presses on. "What if he is gone now? He can't be gone just when we got him back! I-I—" Lydia trails off. She was never really good at expressing her emotions. The only person who was good at getting Lydia to open up was Stiles. Given the circumstance, it's enough to drive anyone to hysterics.

Scott sighs. "He won't leave." He says in a small voice.

Lydia's eyes flash and she rounds on him in a way that is positively terrifying. "You can't possibly know that! He's already left once!"

"He won't because I asked him not to!" Scott shouts. As he's saying the words, it makes them so much worse. The weight of what he asked him and the selfishness of the request. Because he knew – deep in his heart, Scott knew – that if he asked anything of Stiles, Stiles would do it. And he did. Scott wasn't sure of much – where Stiles was, what was going on his head, what happened in the clinic, what was going on with Ms. Morrell, oh God, the list was endless – but he was sure that he would stay.

He peers over at Lydia, who's looking at him with an expression he doesn't quite understand. "Look, I know I shouldn't have! I know how wrong it was and how I'm probably abusing our friendship, but—"

Lydia places her hand on his arm, stopping the steam of words coming out of his mouth. "Thank you."

His breath hitches. "W-What?"

"He wouldn't have agreed to anyone else."

"That's what makes it so bad. I—" Scott stops, the scent hitting him. It's panicked and scared, guilty and depressed. "He's on the lacrosse field."

Lydia and Scott sprint through the school, getting scolded by teachers who pass. Scott wants to run faster, but knows that Lydia would skewer him if he did so. And Lydia is far more terrifying than most obstacles he's faced.

By the time they reach the lacrosse field, there's a figure lying stationary on the ground. From what Scott can tell, he's not moving. But he can hear the steady, rhythmic beating of his heart. They sprint toward Stiles, only to find him on his back, staring at the sky. When they approach, he doesn't acknowledge them. After a few uncomfortable moments, Stiles points to the sky. "That cloud looks like a monkey."

Scott and Lydia go on either side of him and lay down. Scott tells himself that he shouldn't look at his best friend, so he actively forces himself to stare at the sky and find silly animals in the clouds. He points up. "That one looks like a cat."

"Dude, no it doesn't. I thought being a werewolf gave you super sight powers." Stiles says with a weak chuckle. The three remain silent for several minutes. It's actually quite nice, not talking. Scott never realized it before because usually there's sound if Stiles is involved, but it's was nice for all of them to simply be. It doesn't take long for him to get weary of it, though. He wants his best friend to rant about something. To talk his ear about something. To… something.

"Just ask." Stiles says, not removing his gaze from the sky. "I know you both want to know. It may save time to simply ask."

Scott doesn't though. He can't bring himself to do it, even though he's been given the perfect chance. Of course, Lydia doesn't have the same hesitation. "What was that all about, Stiles?"

Stiles breathes heavily, clenching his fists at his sides. "You guys are going to think I'm stupid, considering. It's so, so stupid. I'm stupid."

Lydia's voice is soft. Scott doesn't remember the last time it was so soft, if ever. "What is stupid, Stiles?"

His hands are on his chest and he's twisting them. "It was Eichen House."

Scott freezes at his side.

Stiles never spoke of what happened in Eichen House. Even after the Nogistune possession, before all the darkness fell again, he avoided every inquiry regarding the matter. Even Malia wouldn't saying anything, even if Scott pressed. It was like a something that never happened. Probably more of something he wished never happened.

"Sometimes I play what happened there in my head and it feels like it wasn't real." Stiles starts. "Did you know about an hour after my dad dropped me off, I knew I shouldn't have been there? It was pretty obvious. I just… knew. It was an awful feeling. Did I ever tell you guys that someone hung himself in front of me within the first few minutes of me being there?"

Scott hears Lydia gasp at his side and he feels like he can't breathe. What. Happened. There is so much to this story he doesn't know and he doesn't know how that's possible. How much has Stiles kept from him over the years? What does he not know?

"Of course I didn't. I haven't really wanted to… I didn't think I could…" Stiles sighs, his voice distant and full of pain. "It was actually the Nogitsune. He controlled my roommate which was more obvious, but he also made someone kill themselves in front of me. It wasn't until later when we were connected did he let me know it was him. It was for two reasons, actually. The one I assumed – that he was proving he could take control and kill all of you if he wanted to. That was what I thought was his intention, but as it turns out, it was much further than that." Stiles breath hitches as he manages out, "Always thinking two moves ahead." Stiles coughs, returning to his rigid state. "Anyway, it was also because when something like that happens, they shut down communication in the entire facility for twenty-four hours. So, I was trapped. I couldn't call anyone, talk to anyone, or leave. It… wasn't the best."

Scott's hands are in fists. He wants to break something – or someone, he's not picky. This story is getting worse and it's all he can do to control his wolf altogether. The sky, he has to look at the sky.

"It turns out, Ms. Morrell is the counselor there too." Stiles says and Scott hears Lydia squeak. "I was in one of her sessions and the lichen that Deaton poisoned me with was spreading and visible on my neck, so she called me into her office. I thought to talk about everything. I even was a little hopeful because I thought maybe she had some insights. Maybe… maybe something good could happen. For once." He sighs. "But, she kinda, uh, gave me a bottle of essentially the medical equivalent to Speed and told me to stay awake. Otherwise…" He trails off.

When he doesn't answer again, Scott reminds himself his voice needs to remain under control. "Otherwise what, Stiles?"

Stiles lets out a heartless laugh. "You see, this is the part you're going to laugh at me. Because it makes sense. It makes that she would want to do this and I just, I mean seeing her is just—"

"What did she say she would do to you." Not a question.

"Dude, you already know the answer." Stiles shuts his eyes, as if he's hearing her again.

Scott knows his eyes are red. He's doing everything he can to calm himself down. The Nogistune did so much more than he thought. He trapped Stiles in a cage like an animal. And now he has the instincts of one. An animal, desperately trying to survive.

"And I hope you two know," Stiles continues when neither of them say anything. "I know that it was necessary. And she should've done that. I know it. I just – it was just not the greatest to be trapped in a mental institution and the one person you thought was on your side was giving you illicit drugs and threatening to kill you if you went to sleep. Which, by the way, I ended up getting tossed into an isolation room for and sedated against my will because they found them, and it's not like I could actually say the sentence, 'The secret Emissary who works for you gave them to me because I'm being possessed by a Nogitsune.' They'd never let me leave."

He exhales.

"You can't possibly mean that." Lydia snaps, bolting upright.

Stiles joins her, his hair tousled in a way that makes him look like he's just woken up. "I can't possibly mean what? I told you, I know why she said she had to do it, it's just like this visceral reaction that I can't really control, I just—"

"That!" Lydia cries. "You can't possibly mean that it was alright for her to give you illegal drugs and then threaten to kill you if you ever fell asleep? On what planet is that alright?"

Stiles shoots up so quickly from the ground that it startles both of them. He turns to face them, his eyes wide. "Um, planet earth? I was killing people!"

Lydia's on her feet. "It wasn't you, Stiles!" She's shouting, her voice filled with so much passion, it's almost terrifying.

"Oh my God, stop saying that!" Stiles bellows, running his fingers through his hair exasperatedly. "I'm sick and tired of everyone saying that! It was me! It was me!" Stiles is pointing at himself so vigorously, Scott is genuinely concerned he might bruise his sternum. "It was my hands that were covered in Coach's blood! In Scott's!" He gestures wildly. "When will you people stop pretending that I am a better person than I am? If I had been stronger, if I had been better, none of this would've happened! It wasn't enough! I am not enough!"

"Then why did you come back!" Lydia shouts, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Why did you come back at all?"

"To make sure you all were okay!" Stiles snaps, his voice echoing in the field.

That makes Scott jump to his feet. "What?"

Stiles winces, obviously wishing he never said anything. His eyes are darting around the field, desperately looking for an escape. "I-I heard Kate Argent was back," he says with a shrug. "That she came back from the dead or never died – whatever happened. And I thought, maybe, since she did and another… Argent didn't, maybe you guys needed… I don't know!" Stiles groans. "I never actually meant to talk to you. I just wanted to make sure you guys were okay. But then you idiots almost died and I had to!"

"So," Scott begins, his head swimming. "You came back to make sure we were okay?"

Stiles looks at him like he's crazy. The hard eyes melt and he says barely above a whisper, "Scott, you're my brother. I would do anything to make sure you're okay. But," he looks behind him. "I'm not strong enough. I-I can't do—"

A bell resounds across the school grounds and Stiles flinches. "Probably should head to class," he says distantly, all of the vulnerability from moments before, vanished. "Skipped a class on my first day of school?" He laughs to himself. "I suppose I'll never learn, right?"

XXX

"I want names!"

"Dad!"

"Don't 'Dad' me, Stiles. Tell me exactly who was in charge of your floor and I'm going to that facility and I am shutting it down with my bare hands!"

"Dad!"

"No! That is inexcusable! I knew checking you into Eichen House was a bad idea, but this is beyond what I could've imagined!"

"Dad!" Stiles shouts, gripping Mr. Stilinski's shoulder. He's taken aback at how strong the grip is, wondering if Stiles wanted to, he could keep him planted there. "I'm fine! I-I'm here and I'm fine."

"Kid," Mr. Stilinski mutters, grabbing the back of his son's head and pulling him into a fierce hug. "You are not fine. But I need you to understand something. That's okay. Do you hear me, son? It's okay. It's okay to be not fine. It's okay to say you need a little help or than you need time. It's okay. Because I'll be here. Scott's here. His mom. We'll be fine enough for you and you can be not fine and we'll pick up the slack. You deserve a break from being fine for everyone. Let me get this one, for once."

Stiles hesitates at the contact at first, and then grips the cloth of his father's uniform. How the Sheriff missed having Stiles here. Jus his presence brightens the house, even if he is a little broken. A little broken is better than absent. Maybe it's selfish, but it's true. "Deserve?" Stiles repeats. "I don't deserve anything Dad."

"That's the thing, kid," Mr. Stilinski says, squeezing tighter because it's been five months since he was able to hug his son and he needs to make up for lost time. "You do deserve it, you do deserve everything, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to convince you of that."

In hindsight, maybe going on a rant about Eichen House immediately after Scott called and informed him of what happened – in hopes to give the Sheriff all the information so he can properly help Stiles – wasn't the best idea. He knows he has to tread lightly with his son, but he doesn't know how to do so. Stilinski's aren't light. They're loud, vivacious, and demand to be seen.

There's a tapping at the door and the two pull apart. The Sheriff frowns, trying to remember if he told anyone they could come over. When he opens the door, he frowns at the woman in front of him. She has mousy hair and there are dark rings under her eyes like she hasn't slept in a while. "May I help you?" The Sheriff asks.

She takes a preparation breath. For what for, the Sheriff doesn't know. Then she asks, "Is this the residence of Stiles Stilinski?"

The Sheriff looks behind him and frowns at Stiles, who steps into sight, his arms crossed. "I'm Stiles." He says.

The woman's eyes brighten. "Oh my God, really? It's really you? You're alive? You actually are alive?" She cries. "I-I mean, Stiles?"

Stiles looks at the Sheriff, who is seriously considering slamming the door in the woman's face. But Stiles speaks before he can be rude. "Yes? Do I know you?"

"No, but," she turns around and waves excitedly to someone in a car parked behind the cop car. "I need your help. Or rather, Nathan needs your help."

"Who's Nathan?" Stiles asks, clearly frustrated.

But then the Sheriff sees it.

The kid can't be more than nine. He's lanky like Stiles, but still has chubby cheeks. He gets out of the car like someone's leading him with a rope; he stumbles and trudges up to the front door. But when he looks up, everything makes sense.

His eyes are so dark.

His mother may look a little sleep deprived, but this kid is wrecked. The Sheriff hasn't seen rings under someone's eyes ever since…

He looks at Stiles, who's grown pale. He looks like he wants to run, wants to sprint in the other direction, but is rooted to the spot. "Is another one dead, Mom?" The kid mumbles. "Because you could've just told me that in the car."

The woman smiles nervously. "H-He's usually not like this. It's been a rough year."

The kid snorts. "Rough year? Why can't you just say the words? This year has been shit."

The woman looks positively mortified, but Stiles snorts, earning him a startled look from the Sheriff. The woman gazes at Stiles with imploring eyes. "You're the only living one."

The only living one.

Stiles looks to the ground. "The only Nogitsune survivor."

The Sheriff doesn't need to look at the woman to get a confirmation. "Well, besides me," the kid snorts. "What a fun club this is."

The woman shuts her eyes. "Please,"

Opening the door a little wider, the Sheriff sighs. "Why don't you come in for some coffee?"

Needless to say, it's awkward. By the time the coffee is prepped and all four people are around the table, the Sheriff already wishes his coffee was of the Irish variety. He coughs slightly, running his hands down his legs. "So, what do you want with Stiles?"

"I need – we need," the woman – who introduced herself as Nancy – says quickly. "Help. I-I don't know what to do. I don't know where to go. Everyone else who lived through a Nogitsune possession is—"

"Dead, yeah, I get that." Stiles says shortly. "But what do you want with me?"

"I need you to help him."

The Sheriff looks over at Nathan, who's playing with the wood grain of the table. The kid should be getting his first crush. He should be getting excited about middle school. He shouldn't be dealing with any of this – it isn't fair. But then he gazes at his own son and his chest feels like it's collapsing.

Stiles is looking at the woman like she's telling him that he'll never be happy again. There's such pain etched on his face, the Sheriff wants to kick this woman and her son out. "How?" Stiles asks softly.

Nancy bites her lip. "He – he hasn't been the same. And I can't be there all the time to watch him, to make sure he doesn't try to, or maybe—"

The words aren't needed. To make sure he doesn't try to kill himself.

Nine years old.

The Sheriff curses the day a 'Nogitsune' ever came to be. Stiles sighs, "I can't help. I don't even know how I would."

"But you're alive!"

"It's not from lack of trying!" Stiles shouts. Both the woman and the Sheriff wince. "How is that a condition for helping someone? That I wasn't successful in my own attempt to kill myself? I can't help anyone! I can't!"

Stiles leaps from his chair and walks to the end of the counter, resting his hands on it. He leans until his forehead touches a cabinet. The Sheriff is tense, turning back to the woman. In a hushed voice, he says, "Maybe you should go and come back another time. It's just… it's not good right now and I don't think the added pressure of this would be very beneficial—"

"I'll do it."

Stiles' voice is small.

Nancy looks up from her coffee, her teary eyes wide and hopeful. "W-What?"

Stiles still doesn't turn around. The Sheriff can see his fists clenched and shaking, almost to the point where he wants to shout 'No!' and kick the two out of his house. But Stiles repeats his sentiment. "I'll do it. I don't know how, but I'll try."

"There's no point." Nathan says, his prepubescent voice breaking, but the Sheriff is sure it isn't due to puberty. "You're just going to fail. You shouldn't even try."

The Sheriff stands up so quickly, the table rattles. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but get out." He snaps. Stiles is shrinking, his back curling and his arms wrapping around himself. "I'm sorry, but please leave."

Nancy's tears fall. "B-But—"

"I said I'll do it," Stiles says. "Nathan can meet me tomorrow at the coffee place down the road. Show up, if you want. Or don't. I'll be there at eleven."

The Sheriff closes his eyes. This is not going to end well. It doesn't take his cop instincts to know that. As he's ushering them out the door – Nathan already in the car and buckled before Nancy leaves the house – he pulls her aside. "Now listen to me. My son is held together by tape. Tape. He's barely holding it together as it is. And if these little chat sessions do anything to make him regress, I'm ending them. I'm sorry your son was possessed, but Stiles is not an instructional manual. And he's doing the best he can."

"My nine-year-old tried to hang himself from the ceiling fan in our garage." Nancy says, her voice and eyes hard. "I watched him kill people. I watched him kill family. I know you're trying to protect your son, but I'm simply trying to protect mine. And right now, Stiles is my only option."

"He's a person, not a solution."

"Why can't someone be both?"

XXX

"You can do this, Stiles, you can do this." He breathes, speaking to himself over and over. "You can do this, you can do this. How can you help that kid if you don't do this?"

Stiles gets out of his Jeep, his body filled with nervous energy that he can't get rid of. Ever since the boy left, his chest felt heavy. He couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible is about to happen. He paces around his car, running his hands up and down his legs.

He thought he was better. He thought he was getting better. But he's back in Beacon Hills for what – a week? – and he already feels like he's underwater again. Stiles absently rubs his arms, peering at the black lines that he so strictly dictated to the tattoo artist. He reminds himself why he got them in the first place. "You're stronger than this, Stiles. You can do this. If you want to help people, you have to be okay. You need to be okay, Stiles. You need to."

One solution to fear is confronting it.

Which is why he stands outside of Eichen House at two in the morning.

"It's just a building, Stiles. It's just a building. It's not…" But as he reaches out to the handle of the gate, a sharp pain hits his chest like the simple memory of it is attacking him. His breathing quickens and he finds himself stumbling backward. He can't control anything. He feels the panic attack coming on, but there's no one here to talk him down.

Darkness starts circling his eyes as each breath is harder to collect. Without thinking, he pulls out his phone and dials a number. He doesn't expect anyone to answer, so it's no surprise when it goes to voicemail.

"Hello! You've reached the voicemail of Lydia Martin. If you are calling in regards to – Stiles stop! Stop it! I'm being professional, something you clearly need to learn about. Regards is normal person speak! You are simply incorrigible! Gah – leave a message!"

His breathing slows, but it's not enough. He presses 'redial,' pressing the phone to his ear. "Hello! You've reached the voicemail of Lydia Martin…"

He has to listen to it five times before he can clamber back in his car.

Once his panic subsides, he slams the car in reverse and peels out. He can't believe she kept that message. He always assumed she rerecorded it when he left the room. But it was there, like a small piece of the past when it was good.

Stiles peers in his rear view mirror, wiping the sweat from his forehead. How in the hell was he going to help this kid when he couldn't even keep himself together long enough to stand next to a building? It's enough to have him sprinting toward Canada again, but then he remembers Scott's pleas.

Please don't leave.

Out of all things to ask, this might be the one that breaks him.

"Keep it together, Stiles," he whispers to himself. "You have to keep it together. Keep it together."

A/N: There it is! There's gonna be some lovely Stiles/Nathan-ness. Originally, I pictured Roland from Once as Nathan, but then I figured that was a bit too young, so I bumped up his age. Also, I've always had the headcanon that the Nogitsune made that kid kill himself to lockdown the building, simply to cage Stiles in Eichen House. Because he was the weakest when he was alone.

Please leave a note if you have time! Much love!