A/N: You ever just write and rewrite and edit and then edit some more and finally you can't look at it anymore so you just set it free and hope for the best? Yeah? Okay then. Also, upon finishing this chapter, I realized this story might end up being a bit longer than I anticipated. Anyway, enjoy!

Once Stiles and Scott had left with the baby, Deaton began to poke and prod her, but Malia's face remained expressionless throughout. In fact, she was so lost in her own thoughts that she was hardly aware of Deaton at all. She didn't feel present in her own mind, in her own body. But when the dull cramping returned a few minutes later, followed by the expulsion of the afterbirth, she was brought crashing back to reality. She started to panic, not sure what was happening to her.

"You're okay," Deaton said, doing his best to calm her. "That was just the placenta. Your body is working extra hard to heal itself. The bleeding is light, the tearing minimal. I'd say that with some rest, within a couple of hours you may be completely healed . . ."

Malia tuned him out again. She didn't want to hear about placentas and tearing and blood. She couldn't deal with any of it. Once again, her body was betraying her. First, it had gone from girl to coyote and caused her to kill her family. Then she'd gotten used to being a coyote, only to have Stiles and Scott come along and change her back. But by then her human body didn't feel like hers anymore, which had only made her feel worse at its refusal to change back to a coyote. And now her body was doing more things without her consent or knowledge – growing a baby inside it, birthing it, and then by leaving her brain swirling with so many hormones that she couldn't get her emotions under control. She felt as if she'd never come to trust her body again.

"Will I still feel like . . . this?" She didn't know how to describe what she meant. All she knew was that she felt so tired and gross and miserable and why couldn't she stop crying?

"Ah, unfortunately, the surge of hormones will be with you for a few days at the very least, possibly weeks." Once he was done taking care of her, he covered her with a fresh blanket and began cleaning and reorganizing the exam room.

Her mind was at war with itself. One part was so worried about the baby, hoping that she was healthy. That part of her brain didn't know why she hadn't wanted to hold or even look at her baby. But then the other part wanted to live in ignorance. Good or bad, it didn't want to know. Still, she managed to ask, "What about the baby?"

"She'll need to go to the hospital soon to be sure she's healthy."

"Do you really think she'll be okay?"

"I do."

"That's good." And she meant it. No longer able to fight it, her eyes closed and she immediately fell asleep. It was a fitful sleep, however, and every noise Deaton made woke her again and again. She was aware when he finally left her in the room alone, and when she opened her eyes they glowed bright blue.

Stiles paced up and down the small space behind the swinging doors in the reception area, the baby held snuggly against his chest. Scott's eyes followed him, and he could actually smell the anxiety coming off of his best friend. "Stiles, maybe you shouldn't walk so fast –"

"What in the hell am I going to do?" Stiles asked as he stopped in his tracks to face Scott after over five minutes of frenzied pacing. "Is this some kind of nightmare I can't wake up from?"

"If it is then I'm having it too."

"But did that really just happen?" Stiles sputtered. "Did we actually just watch Malia give birth to a baby that none of us, including her, even knew existed?"

"Yes."

"No, it's not possible. I mean, our lives are crazy, but this?!"

"It's not that hard to believe. It happens to normal, human women all the time."

"Yeah, but not to me, okay? Not to Malia. Not to two screwed up teenagers who lost their virginities on a musty old couch in the basement of an insane asylum! And it definitely doesn't happen to a girl who then lived as a coyote for months!" He paused. "Well, when I say it all together like that . . ."

"Come on, man," Scott said, going over to clap his friend on the shoulder. "Everything is going to be okay."

"You don't actually believe that."

"I do. I know everything is screwed up right now, but you'll figure it out."

"Scott, I have a kid."

"Yeah, I know." He then had the audacity to smile.

If Stiles had the ability to feel anything other than sheer terror, he might have hit him. "Why are you smiling? I'm barely seventeen. Malia wants to be full-time coyote. And now we have this kid. Nothing about this is good."

Scott shrugged. "Look, I get how serious this is. But all of this could've turned out way worse, you know? The baby and Malia are both okay, and I'm just grateful for that."

"So am I, okay? But that doesn't totally erase the fact that I've gotten myself into a colossal mess here." His expression grew sadder. "And are we sure Malia's okay? Did you see her? She wouldn't even look at her."

"Well . . . neither have you."

"What are you talking about? Of course I have."

"Not really. You've barely looked at her since we've been out here."

"No, that's not . . ." Stiles trailed off, very pointedly looking Scott in the face. He tried to picture what the baby looked like in order to prove himself right, but he soon found that he couldn't do it. Frankly, all babies looked alike to him, but he couldn't even remember if she had hair or not. Up until now, he'd practically forgotten he was even holding her. She felt as if she weighed nothing, though somehow his body seemed mindful of her presence in his arms even if his brain wasn't. Even though he'd been pacing, the rest of his body had done very minimal amounts of his usual flailing, which was surprising considering the circumstances.

"Do it," Scott encouraged.

"And what, it'll fix everything? I'll just look at this baby and suddenly I'll be ready to take care of her? Everything's gonna magically be okay?"

"Stiles, just look at her."

He frowned in annoyance, stubbornly glaring at Scott. But Scott stared him down, so Stiles relented and finally looked at his baby. The first thing he noticed was that she did, in fact, have hair. A fair amount of it too, though it was thin and wispy and still slightly damp. He barely had the time to decide if he thought he saw more of Malia or himself in her when his field of vision suddenly blurred, and he could no longer see any of her features at all.

"Well?" Scott asked with a wide grin on his face.

"I don't know."

His smile faltered a bit, but he chuckled. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"I can't see! I can't even see her," he burst out. His eyes were so filled to the brim with tears that she was nothing but a blur. He rubbed furiously at his eyes, but it didn't help for than a few seconds.

"So keep trying."

He nodded and took a deep breath before looking at her again. Thankfully this time he was able to keep the tears at bay, somewhat at least. Yes, she definitely looked like Malia, he decided. He saw her in the curves of the baby's lips, in the shape of her tiny ears and in her coloring. But as he looked closer, he thought he could see bits of himself too. She had impossibly long eyelashes for a newborn, much like he'd had, and she maybe even had his nose.

Stiles let out another shuddering breath. "Oh shit." Not exactly eloquent, but it was the only thing he could think to say to encompass the enormity of his situation. He had a kid. A living, breathing, tiny human being that was a part of him and part of Malia, and oh God, this was really, truly happening.

"You okay, dude?" Scott asked.

"Not really," he said honestly. He felt less manic, at least, but the fear was still strong. "Scott, I can't do this."

"What do you –"

Deaton reappeared then, and Stiles immediately asked, "How's Malia?"

"Physically, she's fine. Her body is already healing itself, and she's resting now. And I'm sure once she gets over the shock of it all, she'll want to see her baby," Deaton assured him before turning to Scott. "How is she? How's her breathing?"

"Steady. So is her heartbeat," Scott answered.

"Good. You know, most babies her size have trouble breathing on their own. But I guess this one is made of sterner stuff than most."

The realization hit Stiles like a ton of bricks. He hadn't even considered that yet. "Are you saying she's a werecoyote?"

"I'm fairly certain of it, yes. It tends to be a dominant trait."

Stiles looked again at the sleeping baby in his arms. He tried to picture what her life would be like as a werecoyote: the shifting, being chased by hunters, the struggle to control her urges. He didn't want that kind of life for her. Her life was already hard enough, being the child of two teenagers who weren't even together, but then to add everything else too? It was too much.

Deaton said, "Stiles, why don't you give her to me."

He was relieved to relinquish her, especially considering he was shaking so much that he was sure he would drop her. Deaton looked over her again. "It's amazing, but she really does seem to be perfectly healthy."

"But how is that even possible? She spent like eight months gestating in the womb of a coyote!"

"Honestly, I've never seen something to this extent, but I always thought it could be possible. Talia Hale shifted often while pregnant, and her children turned out fine."

"Well, Derek's still debatable."

"So what happens now?" Scott asked.

"Even with how well she's doing, we should get her to the hospital soon, just to be sure. I think she's well enough that we can wait until Malia rests for a while longer. I'm sure she'll want –"

"No!" Scott suddenly shouted, causing the other two to jump in surprise. "No, no, no –"

"Scott, what the –"

"Malia?!." Scott took off toward the exam room. He looked inside, hoping he was somehow mistaken. It was empty. He was already out of the room before Stiles and Deaton had even caught up. "She took off."

"Took off as in gone? When did that happen?"

"I don't know. I was so focused on making sure the baby was breathing that I didn't notice when she left. She can't have gotten far. I'm going to find her, okay?"

Scott shifted and ran out the back door. Deaton gave the baby back to Stiles. "Take her. I'll be right back. Maybe she didn't make it far."

"Wait!" Stiles's voice echoed through the now empty veterinary clinic. And there he stood, all alone with his newborn daughter. Naturally that was the moment she started to cry.

"Please stop crying," he pleaded as he bounced her lightly. "Other than capable parents, I really don't know what you need."

After five minutes that felt like an eternity, Deaton returned, and Stiles eagerly handed off the wailing baby to him. "I don't know what's wrong with her. She hasn't stopped crying since you two left. She's probably terrified to be alone with me. I can relate."

"She's probably just getting hungry."

"Right. Hungry." Stiles's head whipped around in search of Malia, but it was obvious Deaton had returned alone. "So I'm guessing you didn't find her."

"No, but Scott's still looking."

Another ten minutes and a somewhat less cranky baby later, Scott also returned alone. "I'm sorry. I couldn't find her."

"What do you mean? She can't have had that big of a jump on you."

"I think she was trying to confuse me, or maybe she's just confused herself. She shifted back and forth a lot, doubled back. I can't make any sense of it."

"Well, that's great," Stiles huffed, pulling anxiously at his hair. "That's just great." His already bad situation had suddenly gotten much worse, and he had no idea what to do next.

"Hey, we'll find her. I already called Isaac and Derek, and they'll keep looking –"

"Those two?" It came out more scathingly than he meant it, but every minute Malia was gone made him more worried, angry, and helpless. Then suddenly an idea came to him. He didn't know if it was right or wrong, but it was the only thing he had at the moment. "Scott, you should keep looking for her too."

"No, they can handle it for now. I'm going with you to bring the baby to the hospital."

"I'll be fine. I'd rather you were out there looking for her."

Scott hesitated. Something was off. "Well, you can't wait for Malia. You should get her to the hospital right now."

"I know. I'll get her there. But finding Malia is important too, so go."

Scott could always tell when Stiles was up to something, and this time was no different. His eyes narrowed in suspicion even though his tone was still light. "What, are you trying to get rid of me?"

"No." He answered too quickly.

That worried Scott even more. "What are you going to do?"

"I told you."

"Stiles."

"Look, I was just gonna call my dad, okay? I know, I get myself into this mess and my first thought is to call my dad, very mature. But he's dealt with this kind of stuff before, so I figured he'll know what to do."

"Okay." It made sense that Stiles wanted to call his dad, but something in Stiles's tone was still giving him pause. "Do about what exactly?"

"Well, if Malia doesn't come back."

"And if she doesn't?" Scott pressed. Stiles fidgeted, nervously rocking back and forth from one foot to another. "What are you going to tell him?"

"I don't know," he admitted, not looking Scott in the eye.

"But you're going to tell him she's yours." It's not a question. It's a statement because he knew Stiles would never do what it seemed like he was alluding to. "You're not going to let him just take her to the hospital and act like –"

"I don't know what I'm going to say, okay? I don't know what to do, Scott! So I'm just doing everything I can to not completely lose my mind right now." Stiles pulled out his phone, his fingers shaking so much that he can barely work it.

Scott shook his head. His expression was pleading. "Don't do it like this, man."

"She needs to go to the hospital, and I'm getting her to the hospital."

"Yeah, but . . . you have to tell him. Tell him like he's your dad, not the sheriff."

Stiles said nothing. He pressed the green call button, put the phone to his ear, and felt his heart rate increase with every ring.

"Don't do this. You'll regret it, Stiles. I know you will."

Stiles was acting as if he couldn't hear him, but he heard Scott's every word. But somehow the fear was guiding him, making him do something he thought he could never do. His reality was suddenly clear to him. Malia had taken off, and whether they found her or not, it seemed as if this was all too much for her to handle. He wasn't ready for any of this either, and he certainly couldn't imagine doing this on his own. So really, there was only one thing he could think to do, and that was to let her go.

When his dad answered, Stiles spoke, all the while staring at Scott with resolve. "Hey Dad, I need you to come over to Deaton's clinic right now. Just you. We've got a situation here."

A/N: Thanks for reading, and for everyone who takes the time to review or likes my little 'ole fic enough to give it a fave. It seriously makes my day every time my phone goes off to tell me I have a new email. :)