A/N: Some trigger warnings here. Suicidal ideation. Stiles might not do anything to indicate this but it's his lack of action and his intended destination that heavily implies this would be the end result throughout this moment in time. Derek is really the one to clarify this is what Stiles was intending to do tho, although no one says it out aloud.

Chapter 6

Cora leaves before Derek can tell her what is really happening with Stiles.

Her duffel bag is gone and there's a note tacked to one of his kitchen cupboards.

Derek,

I can't deal with this.

I'm sorry

Cora x

He had palmed his phone, thumb hovering over her name, until he had shook his head, sliding it back into his pocket. They needed all the help they could get but he had, equally, wanted his sister safe. Derek was no stranger to trauma and he recognised the wild eyed terror that reflected in her eyes, particularly any time the fire and his family were mentioned.

Laura wasn't here anymore. Derek had to step up to the plate and be responsible, even if it meant letting his kid sister run away again. Besides, it was safer for Cora to not be in Beacon Hills right now, especially now everyone knew it was a Nogitsune that they were dealing with. Kitsune's might be tricksters, but Nogitsune's were a different ball game all together.

Stiles had been missing for days now. He knew the Sheriff and his deputies were on high alert, running around after the dark trickster's chaotic mind games, as well as the fall out of the power surge, at Stiles own hands, and Isaac's subsequent electrocution, so Derek had skulked around trying to track the boy instead. Stiles, or the one wearing his skin, had masked his scent well, along with his own aura.

After tracking his abandoned SUV, and using Kira's own knowledge about foxfire, he had retrieved Stiles bat and started following a man who was just as intent on finding the kid as he was, although, Derek was sure, for another reason entirely.

"Are you going to kill Stiles if you find him?" he had asked Chris, a short while after shielding the man from the blast that had ripped the Sheriff's office apart.

"It depends if Stiles is still Stiles," Chris had said, a little too determinedly.

Derek hadn't said anything when he received the call from Deaton. Chris seemed to accept Derek's weak lie, head tilted with suspicion before nodding, probably only because Derek had just saved his life but he had hoped that there was still some part of him that wanted to give the kid a chance at surviving. To give him enough time to be saved.

Derek had rushed to Deaton's, ignoring the shards of glass still embedded through his jacket, stumbling in through the door to find Deaton attending to a still healing Scott.

"What happened?" he barks as Scott's wound, through and through, slowly knits together. A bloody sword still lays where it had been dropped. Kira, nursing a head wound and the tell-tale signs of a blackening eye with an ice pack, waves weakly and nods to the dropped sword. It doesn't take a genius to figure out how Scott was injured. The fact that it's only now that he is starting to heal indicates how long the weapon had been left in there. He looks around, eyes darting everywhere, searching for the culprit. "Where's Stiles?"

"I injected him with Letharia vulpine," Deaton says, inspecting Scott's wound, first at the front and then at the back. He steps back, satisfied it is healing and nods at Scott.

"Wolf Lichen" Derek breathes out, remembering his mother mention the name before.

"Yes," Deaton says, turning to Kira and helping her to one of the available stools. She wavers on her feet but offers them a reassuring smile. "Enough to subdue the fox."

"Can we use it to kill it?" Scott asks hopefully, pulling his bloodied top back into place. "Will it save Stiles?"

"I don't know," Deaton admits with the same calm and blank stare he always wore. He always looked so damn impartial, Derek never knew if the man was pleased or annoyed at any given situation. "I'm not sure how much I can give without it affecting Stiles too. There's a risk that it can kill him too."

"Why the hell did you give it to him then?" Scott snaps angrily. He rubs his hand tiredly down his face.

"You'd be dead if I hadn't," he points out, picking the sword up and placing it on the table.

"I'm not going to let you kill him," Scott shakes his head vigorously and Derek realises this is the first time that Scott has spoken to the older man like this, challenging his authority - his boss, a surrogate father, an advisory – but Deaton doesn't even raise an eyebrow. "I trust you, Deaton. I really do but I can't accept that."

"It's given us some time. Time to regroup. Time to think."

"About what?" Scott yells suddenly, kicking the table behind him with more force than necessary, the utensils and metal frame shaking violently. "How the hell am I supposed to save him?"

"Us," Kira corrects quietly from the sidelines. "It's not all on you."

Scott snorts, eyes rolling, filling with frustrated tears. He stubbornly doesn't let any of them fall. "This is my responsibility. I'm the alpha. I let him do that damn ritual," his voice cracks with the pressure. "He's my best friend."

"Scott," Derek says, stepping forward, firmly planting his hand over the younger boys shoulder. "Kira's right. This isn't all on you. That kid has saved my ass on more than once occasion." He squeezes to emphasise his point. "I didn't come back just because you asked me to. Stiles is my responsibility too. That's how packs work."

Scott nods weakly, looking around, seemingly lost at what to do. His eyes finally settle on Kira, concern flashing when he sees her face. He goes to her immediately, crushing her into a hug, ignoring both Derek's and Deaton's disapproving frowns as he tries to siphon some of her pain.

"Just a little," Scott reassures Kira when she starts to protest with a muffled 'isn't this how you got into this mess in the first place'.

With Scott distracted, Derek pulls Deaton to the side to find out what had really happened.

"Where is he?" Derek asks once the other man has finished.

"I locked him inside the other room," Deaton tells him, nodding towards one of the back rooms. "I don't know how long the Nogitsune will be buried for. I didn't want to take any chances"

"Let me see him," Derek instructs him, favoring anger over manners. If it was Stiles they were dealing with right now, and not the nogitsune, then the kid must be petrified.

"He's a little out of it right now," Deaton tells him but unlocks the door anyway.

Derek shoves the older man aside and strides into the room. It's not as big as the room he'd just been in – not enough for hiding places anyway, so instantly Derek knows that Stiles isn't here.

There's a counter top that runs along three of the four walls around the room. Derek can tell that Stiles has moved some of the items on the counter to the side, wise enough to know that if he had clambered up there with the bottles and boxes still in place, he was sure to knock them off, the sound of breaking glass and utensils drawing unwanted attention.

Above the counter across one side of the room there was a strip of high facing rectangle windows. The furthest one to the right is pushed open, the size of the gap a testament to how much weight Stiles has lost since before he had ritually sacrificed himself.

He gulps as he takes another step further into the room.

There's an examination table in the centre.

Across the middle of the table, over the shiny metal, is one solitary message, written in Scott's blood, when it had been still wet on Stiles fingers.

Sorry

"Guys," Derek calls out loudly. "We have a problem."

It's absurd at how Stiles keeps disappearing or someone alerts the others to him being missing.

It's a game that the trickster loves to play. A typical cat and mouse chase. Although who's who is anyone's guess. This time, though, Derek is sure that it's all Stiles doing. Deaton points out that a jar of mountain ash is missing.

Stiles doesn't want to be found.

"It's imperative that we find him," Deaton tells him. "The fox might be subdued but Stiles could still have some unpleasant side effects from the lichen. Without medical attention he could easily succumb to the poison."

Scott looks wretched when he realises what Stiles has done and tries to leave to try and find him again.

"No," Derek immediately takes over, pushing the younger boy towards Kira. "Take Kira to hospital. She needs to be checked out. I'll go."

"What if he needs medical attention right away," Scott shakes his head, hand going for his phone. "I need to call my mom."

"No," Derek says, pulling the phone away and handing it to Kira. "We don't know what we'll find. There's no need to put more people in harm's way then necessary. Deaton will be with me. Take Kira to the hospital."

"But…" Scott says, glancing between Kira and to where Deaton is piling items into his bag, eyes conflicted.

"Scott," Derek sighs. He must sound weary because it draws Scott's attention to him. "Do you remember what you said on the roof of the hospital? About what Stiles was trying to do when we couldn't find him the first time?"

Scott frowns but nods all the same.

"He was protecting us."

"And he still is," Derek says with a nod. "This is Stiles we are dealing with right now. Not the nogitsune. He's scared and he's running. He thinks he's saving everyone by leaving, only this time I don't think he stuck around Beacon Hills. Knowing Stiles, he's probably gone somewhere we wouldn't think of looking at."

"Then how are we going to find him?" Kira asks nervously, hand clenching the phone tightly as though it might vibrate right out of her hand.

Scott's frown slowly falls away from his face and his darkened eyes suddenly brighten.

"Lydia," he breathes.

"I don't know."

Deaton and Derek are staring at her across the table with a look of hope. At least she thinks they are. Both man were not the easiest to read, even on a good day.

They've been there for nearly an hour and nothing is helping.

"Just try again," Derek insists.

It reminds her of Stiles – from holding a bunch of keys to drawing the biggest clue in her life (although no one had realised it at the time) – but this time she just ends up staring down at an empty page instead.

From behind her she hears Aidan sigh disapprovingly in the direction of the two men sitting before her.

"You're not helping," she snips at him.

"Why are you even helping them?" he asks.

"Aidan!" she snaps.

"I'm just pointing out the obvious here," Aidan says, sliding into the seat beside her, an air of belligerence to his frame that was in contrast to his usual indifference. "Why do you want to go after the Nogitsune?"

"Because it's Stiles, right? Right now it's Stiles?" Lydia answers, directing it across the table.

"For now," Deaton answers with a nod.

"But for how long?" Aidan asks.

"You're still not helping!" Lydia glowers at Aidan.

"No," Aidan says quietly, shaking his head. "You know what isn't helping? You breaking into a cold sweat because Derek and the veterinarian fucked up. You hurting yourself over a lost cause. It's a Nogitsune, Lydia. You don't survive that."

Lydia scoffs at Aidan's concern –

(she thinks she hears muffled crying. She turns and looks around but there's nothing there. It's gone when she turns to look at Aidan again)

- she knows it's only because she told him she wanted to be with one of the good guys –

(there's muffled words against her ears. It's not Stiles though but it's still familiar. She frowns because Aidan is still talking. She can see his lips moving but she can't make out his words or the words that were still in her ears)

- she doesn't know why she keeps being drawn to him. Not after he helped kill Boyd. He –

(muffled noises remain in her ears, clouding her concentration. Distracting her further)

"Shut up!" she snaps loudly. So loudly that everything does. Aidan's lips stop moving, the muffled whisper fades away and noise rushes in – Aidan's soft breathing next to her, Deaton's fingers tapping gently over the mahogany table, the clock ticking on the wall to her left. Only Derek remains stoically silent, so she focuses on him instead.

"Lydia?" Derek says quietly when he sees her focus on him. "Deaton told me about you being Stiles tether during the ice tub ritual."

Lydia nods numbly and continues to stare, biting her lip nervously.

"You're our best chance at finding him," Derek continues.

"I heard it, you know…" she whispers quietly.

"Heard what?" Derek asks, confused.

"The MRI," she says, shaking her head at her then stupidity. She should have known. She should have realised sooner. She'd had one after her own attack and fugue state. It had been so loud she had thought she would suffocate on her own terror. "I had been hearing this noise all day. Clanging? Like metal on metal. It got worse as the night wore on. I think I heard it when it actually happened."

"Shall we try again?" Deaton nods at her patiently.

Her eyes are drawn down to the road map folded beneath Derek's curled hand.

"Give me that," she snaps at him, snatching it from his grasp.

"What are you trying to do?" Aidan asks her.

"Something new," she tells them. It's something that she knows Stiles would have asked her to do. She doesn't even know why she hasn't tried it before.

Lydia unfolds the paper and lays it across the table, standing over it. She closes her eyes, letting her hand hover over it. With a deep concentration, only Stiles on her mind, she lets her hand drift down towards the paper. As soon as her finger makes contact the words from before are back in her ear. Clear and concise and so very loud.

"There," she gasps, hand trembling on the map. "He's there."

"What the hell is there?" Aidan asks, leaning forward to where her finger lay.

"The Glen Capri," Lydia breathes out.

'There's no hope'

Lydia had, naturally, wanted to come, just like Scott.

Aidan had refused and Derek had agreed with him, much to the younger wolf's surprise.

He couldn't risk anything, even if the poison was keeping the fox at bay.

They also didn't know what they would find once they got to their destination. Derek could only fathom one reason why Stiles would willingly return to the motel and that knowledge sat heavily in his stomach, churning ugly with every intercepting thought.

"You know about this place, right?" Derek asks Deaton once they are on their way again.

"I heard what happened," Deaton nods.

"What the hell was he thinking?" Derek hisses, thumping the steering wheel angrily.

"He thinks he's saving everyone," Deaton reminds him.

"Like this?" Derek seethes. The scenery flashes past them. He knows he's driving too fast but he wants to get Stiles as soon as he can. Before the kid does something irreparable. They passed the boundary of Beacon Hills a while ago so he knows if he gets pulled over by the cops he won't have the Sheriff's inside knowledge to help. "This isn't helping."

He glances over at Deaton as the other man rummages through his bag, spotting a couple of vials full of a brightly colored yellow liquid.

"Is that wise?" Derek asks. "We don't know what the hell it's already doing to Stiles."

"It's good to be cautious. I'll assess the situation when we get there," Deaton says with a shrug, pushing the vials deeper into the bag, out of sight. "But if the situation requires another dose I'll have no choice but to administer one."

"I swear to god," Derek growls, hands curling tightly around the steering wheel. "If anything happens to that kid because of what you gave him I will personally rip your throat out."

They spot Stiles abandoned jeep at the Glen Capri before they even roll to a stop.

Derek makes an educated guess where Stiles motel room is due to where he's left the jeep. If it's not the right room then he's fully prepared to kick in every door until he finds him.

He kicks the first door open and barrels into the room before Deaton can protest.

Stiles has, thankfully, made this part easy for him. He's collapsed on the floor, halfway between the bed and bathroom, as though he was caught unaware. He was still conscious at some point because he'd had the forethought to put a circle of ash around him, the bottle discarded by his lax fingers. His body is twisted, as though he had barely any energy to lift himself, and the circle is messy but good enough to prevent Derek from reaching him.

He wrinkles his nose in disgust as an acrid smell hits his senses. As he takes a step further he sees a pile of vomit by the side of Stiles face.

"Here," Deaton says, stepping past him to break the circle with his foot before disappearing into the bathroom.

Derek falls to his knees by the side of the unconscious boy and untwists his legs. He pulls at him, turning Stiles away from the vomit. Stiles head lolls listlessly against him, arms slack in his hold. Derek slides in behind him, letting Stiles fall back.

"Stiles?" Derek says over him. He taps his hand across the side of his face that currently doesn't have vomit smeared across the bottom of his cheek. "Hey, c'mon. Wake up."

Stiles doesn't respond as his head lolls against each tap. Derek can feel the intense heat radiating off the trembling body. In fact, Stiles is shivering violently.

"Use this to clean him up," Deaton says, re-appearing with a towel that had been soaked through and wrung out. "Try and cool him down."

Derek takes the towel off him and wipes the side of Stiles face, swiping the contents off the bottom of his jaw. He folds it on itself, concealing the contents, so that the fresh side was now in his hands and wipes it over the teen's forehead.

Stiles stirs beneath it, eyes blinking open and closed sluggishly, and Derek goes with it, tapping the side of the kid's face again. "Hey, you with me? C'mon Stiles. Open your eyes for me."

Stiles eyes open slowly. They look around sluggishly, crinkling in confusion, before settling on Derek's face above him, glazed and unfocused.

"No, don't do that…" Derek starts to tap Stiles face again when his eyes slide shut.

"Leave him," Deaton says, kneeling beside Stiles and feeling for a pulse. "He needs the rest."

Derek can't disagree with that. The darkening circles around his eyes are only worsening. It's any wonder when he had actually last slept.

"How's he doing?" Derek asks, nodding down to where Deaton has his fingers pressed against Stiles wrist.

"He's breathing," Deaton says, releasing the boy's wrist. It falls boneless into his lap. "So he's alive."

"Deaton," Derek warns.

"I'm serious," Deaton says. He gestures down to the now out-cold Stiles. "Right now this is our best scenario. At least until we know what our next step is."

Derek watches as Deaton brushes his hand across the boy's forehead. Stiles moans with it but doesn't stir any further.

"And?" Derek prompts

"His pulse is thready. His breathing labored. His temperature is elevated," Deaton says, rocking back on his haunches. "I'd say he's fighting a pretty big infection."

"From the poison or from the nogitsune?"

"I'd hazard a guess and say both," Deaton says, shaking his head. "We need to get him back to Beacon Hills. I'm loathe to admit it but I think the further away we are the worse the situation will be. Especially here. The nogitsune will love this place. "

Derek doesn't waste any more time and scoops Stiles up into his arms, heading straight for the motel room door. Deaton scoops his bag up and rushes after him.

"Wait!" he says, blocking them from leaving.

"You just said we need to go back," Derek hisses at him. "Get the fuck out of the way."

"We don't know if we were followed. We're not the only ones tracking Stiles," Deaton says. He tweaks the curtains of the window off to the side and glances out. "Let me go first. The last thing we need to be doing is fending off a bunch of Oni."

Derek watches as Deaton inches himself out of the motel room. No masked-ninja's with swords fell the man, So Derek follows after, eyes sweeping the parking lot. Stiles remains resolutely unresponsive in his arms.

Deaton drives back, at a little less speed then their outward journey, allowing Derek sit in the back with Stiles. They're a little over half way back when Stiles stirs again.

"Hey there," Derek greets him when he sees Stiles peeping at him through half-lidded lashes.

"D'rek?" Stiles slurs his name.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he murmurs at him. "You're an idiotic kid."

"S'rry," Stiles mumbles, lips moving lazily. His voice sounds cracked and unused. "Should 'ave left me."

"Cora will smack you upside of the head if she hears you say that," Derek tells him. His voice doesn't have the punch to it that he deserves. I'll hit you upside of the head, you stupid little shit. How is this going to help? How is you being dead better?

Stiles blinks, trying to look around, barely being able to lift his head before giving up on the notion.

"She here?" he asks, surprised.

"No," Derek says. He wonders if he should lie, tell Stiles that she's back in Beacon Hills, helping Scott. He dismisses the thought, knowing Stiles would balk at the need to protect him, but he hates the idea of laying that type of guilt on him, whether it was deserved or not. "She left, Stiles. I think it got a little bit too much for her."

Stiles eyes widen in alarm, before glistening with tears. He curls into himself, into Derek's ribcage. Whether he intended to fold into Derek, he wasn't sure, but there he was, a trembling mess sprawled over Derek's lap.

"S'rry," Stiles mumbles again, voice muffled between Derek's jacket and soiled shirt.

"I don't think she would have left if she had realised what we were truly dealing with," Derek attempts to reassure him, patting his shoulder awkwardly.

"Still sorry," Stiles huffs out.

Derek feels Stiles twist the edge of his shirt between his fingers, each twist tightening the closer they got to the town sign that would ultimately say 'Welcome to Beacon Hills'. Somewhere between that ominous sign and the McCall's residence Stiles hand slackens and he's out once again.

tbc

A/N2: Throughout 3b I always figured Stiles would go back to that place at least once during his multiple disappearing acts. I seriously thought that the standalone episode from 3a was some foreshadowing for the Stiles arc in 3b. When it clearly wasn't going to happen I thought the only natrual way to rectify this was to incorporate it here, and seriously a coyote den IN Beacon Hills? Nope, my Stiles goes a little further afar to the one place he might not actually return from.