let me break (the walls that surround me)

by Tarafina

Life as Malia Tate knows it takes a swan dive when her best friend Scott is bitten by a werewolf. Toss in her growing feelings for him, a lurky Derek Hale, a budding friendship with Allison, and a need to protect everything she cares about, even at the cost of herself, and Malia has a tough road ahead of her. [season one rewrite - Malia was there from the beginning]

20. interlude 1

word count: 16,045
polyvore: username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under Collections for one named after this story to see all of Malia's fashion choices
episodes: between 1x07 and 1x08

---

XX

Stiles drummed his hands against the steering wheel. "Okay, where would Malia go... She's a coyote, she's freaking out, she just kicked an Alpha's ass..."

"She might still be fighting the Alpha. Or he could've hurt her." Scott blew out a frustrated sigh and shook his head. "She wounded him pretty good, bit right into his shoulder, but he threw her off like she was nothing. She's strong and she's dangerous, but Derek said Alpha's were the strongest of our kind..." Scott sunk down in his seat and rubbed his hands over his face. "She could be out there, right now, hurt or dying, and I—"

"Hey, hey, hey. Don't jump to conclusions, all right? This is Malia. She was fast as a human, she's probably even faster as a coyote. If she was really in danger, she could run."

"But, would she?" Scott's brow furrowed. "When I first turned, I— It was like I became someone else. Something just took over and they were in control of my thoughts and what I was doing. Maybe it isn't Malia that's doing this, not totally. Maybe it's the coyote."

"Okay… Then, what would a coyote do?"

He sighed. "I don't know!" His gaze bounced around thoughtfully. "Coyotes are territorial. She could've chased the Alpha off because he was encroaching on her territory."

"Would the territory be the school or you?"

Scott sent him a flat look. "She would go home, to somewhere safe that she could defend and... make a den."

"A den?"

"That's what coyotes live in. Look, we should head to her house."

"Her house... where her dad lives... who she's currently having problems with." Stiles squinted at him. "That house?"

Scott nodded. "It can't hurt to check. If she's not there, we'll start canvassing the woods."

"Canvass— Scott, there's two of us, okay? And only one of us has the super sniffer."

"Then we stick together and I try to catch her scent. But first, we need to go to her house. Even if she's not there, we need to get clothes for her." He grimaced at the lacrosse bag at his feet. After changing out of his torn and bloody shirt, he'd gone back to the gym to collect her clothes too, both of which were tucked away in his bag. Along with her phone and her necklace, the chain of which was broken. "When she shifted, hers kind of, uh, fell apart."

Stiles blinked. "Wait, so when she shifts back..."

"We should probably bring a blanket."

Brows hiked, Stiles nodded. "O-kay."

---

…

---

The Tate house was eerily dark. Henry's truck was missing, and it seemed as if shadows had clung to every corner and crevice the house had to offer. Given the chaos of the night, Malia's house looked more like a set-up for a second climax to a horror movie. Scott unclipped his belt and reached for the door.

"Wait." Stiles reached out, a hand planted against Scott's chest to keep him still. "How do we know she won't attack us?"

"We don't."

"Okay, and how are we going to get her to shift back?"

"No idea."

Stiles frowned. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"

Scott looked away. "My best?"

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, "Oh my God…"

"Stiles, we can't prepare for this. We just have to do it. Malia needs us."

"And I need three naps and a hug."

Shrugging, Scott held his arms out, but Stiles batted them away.

"Not from you."

Rolling his eyes, Scott half-smiled. "Look, we'll get her back. I know we will. And then she can hug you."

"That'd be preferable." Stiles pulled his own seatbelt off. "All right, let's do this."

Pushing his door open, Scott hopped out. He tilted his head and sniffed at the air. He could smell a camp fire burning in the distance, the damp earth, various animals, Stiles' cologne mixed with Axe body-spray, and... the faint aroma of wildflowers. She'd been and gone, he realized. But that was good. It meant she'd been here. That she survived what happened at the school and she was on the move. Now he just had to figure out where her next stop would be.

Stiles was already on the porch. He dug his keys out and flipped through them until he found one for Malia's.

"Did she give you that?" Scott wondered.

"Yes. Unlike you, who I had to copy a key from."

Scott's brow furrowed.

"What? It's for emergencies." He swung the door open and smirked. "Like right now."

The inside of the house was just as dark as it looked on the outside. Scott could smell the old and bitter odor of empty beer cans. Wiping his shoes off, he walked inside, closing the door behind him. He flipped the lights on and blinked at the sudden brightness. Giving his head a shake, he crossed the living room and made his way down the hall. There were family pictures on the walls, following Malia across the years, though they seemed to taper off when she hit ten. There were also spaces where pictures had clearly been removed, their absence all too obvious.

Scott let himself into Malia's bedroom, Stiles right behind him. He flipped the light on and was briefly startled when Shiloh perked up on the bed. Her tail wagged as soon as she saw who it was and she rolled onto her back, her paws up as she stared at them expectantly.

With a snort, Stiles walked over to her, taking a seat on the edge of the bed while he rubbed his hand over her chest. "Hey, girl... Any chance you've seen a familiar coyote around here?"

"She was here. I could smell her outside." Scott went to Malia's dresser and dug around for a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt; loose clothes that wouldn't feel too constricting. "It was old, though. She went somewhere else." He pulled open the top drawer, grabbed a pair of socks and then, sightlessly, grabbed out some underwear and balled it up with her pajamas. It felt weird and invasive to be going through her personal things.

"So, where would she go next? What else would count as her territory?"

"I mean..." Scott shrugged. "She runs through the preserve. She could consider the whole thing hers..."

"What about your place?"

Scott frowned. "What do you mean?'

"I mean, she hangs out there a lot, and lately she's been sleeping over. Maybe she considers that her home, too."

"She stays at your place, too," he muttered defensively.

"So, if yours is a bust, we'll try mine." Stiles shrugged. Giving Shiloh one last pat, he stood. "You think we should bring her?"

"Who? Shiloh?" Scott's brows hiked. "You think that would help?"

"Depends. You think dogs and coyotes get along?"

"They have so far..."

Stiles scrubbed his fingers over his head. "But if we bring her and she rejects Malia, that might be worse... Okay, we don't bring her, just in case. But, while we're here, we should feed her. And maybe let her out to pee." Stiles threw his hand up abruptly. "Shotty not taking her out."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Come on, Shiloh." He whistled as he made his way to the door. "Let's go to the bathroom, come on."

Shiloh rolled herself over and carefully climbed off the bed. She avoided using her fractured leg as much as she could as she trailed after Scott down the hallway. He let her out into the yard and stepped onto the porch to keep an eye on her while Stiles rummaged around inside, searching for dog food. Shiloh sniffed at the ground excitedly before taking off around the side of the house.

"Hey..." Scott followed after her, circling the porch and watching.

Shiloh loped across an overgrown part of the yard that had once been the garden. He remembered Malia telling him about it, and about her lack of green thumb. An old swing hung from a tree, the ropes frayed with age and disuse. Shiloh barked, pawing at the ground and sniffing at the roots of the tree. Frowning, Scott hopped off the porch and walked to her.

"What's wrong? Huh?" The closer he got, however, the more he smelled it. Someone had marked the tree, and he knew who.

A rattling noise caught his ear then and he turned to see Stiles holding up a bag of dog food. "Found it!"

"Hey, I think Malia's marking her territory," he called back.

"What...? Wait, are you saying she's out here peeing on things?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah. And I think we can use it to find her."

Stiles pulled a face. "You're going to follow her pee trail?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

Stiles paused. "Not really. Just wanted to make it totally clear how weirdly close you guys are."

Rolling his eyes, Scott looked down at Shiloh and then nodded. "Good job, girl."

Shiloh sat down and stared up at him cheerfully, her tongue lolling from her mouth. She looked rather proud of herself.

---

…

---

"For the record, this is weird." Stiles carried a flashlight in one hand and a bat in the other as they trudged through the dark woods. "And I still think we could've taken my jeep."

"I can smell better this way. It's not mixed with exhaust fumes." Scott sniffed aggressively, turning his head this way and that. The stronger the smell was, the closer they were. He was trying to follow the exact territorial line she was making. "Coyotes actually mark with urine and scat. But the scat is only for really special places, like their dens. It shows other coyotes that they're willing to defend that area more than others."

"When you say scat...?"

Scott looked back at him knowingly.

"Ew."

Scott snorted. "There's probably some back at the house and I just didn't pick up on it."

"Yeah, because it's mixed with Shiloh's lawn bombs." Stiles took a quick look around. "You know the Alpha could be out here, right?"

"If he is, I can't smell him."

"Yeah, well, maybe Malia's markings are so strong they're drowning out everything else."

"Maybe." Scott frowned. "But I think the Alpha already proved his point."

"Yeah, and what is that?"

"I don't think the Alpha attacked us to kill us. Any of us. I think it was trying to send me a message."

"Which is...?"

"That I'm it's beta and I needed to start acting like one." He sighed. "It wants me in it's pack and it's tired of waiting. And I think it's way of making that happen was to get me to kill my old pack."

"What do you mean? Old pack?"

"Allison, Jackson, Lydia... You."

Stiles' eyes widened in realization. "The Alpha doesn't wanna kill us."

"It wants me to do it. And that's not even the worst part."

Stiles pulled a face and waved a hand around. "How in holy hell is that not the worst part, Scott?"

"Because when he made me be shift, I wanted to do it. I wanted to kill you. All of you..."

"What stopped you?"

"You did."

Stiles brow furrowed. "What?"

"I heard you voice and... I remembered that you're my best friend. It triggered all these memories of me and you and Malia and that... It stopped me. It— it gave me the control that I needed to walk away."

Stiles nodded. "Wow."

"Yeah." Scott glanced at him. "But I don't think that's all the Alpha wanted."

"Okay... What else is there?"

"Malia." Scott turned to look at him. "When it howled, you said Jackson felt it. He didn't shift, but it affected him."

"Right."

"He had claw marks, which means that someone did that. Maybe it was the Alpha or maybe it was Derek, I don't know. But he was marked and he still reacted to the Alpha... What if Malia's the same?"

Stiles brow furrowed. "What, like any shifter will still react to an Alpha?"

"If the Alpha is strong enough, sure. I don't think Jackson is one, not yet. But something must've happened. And Malia..." Scott shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe the Alpha did bite her at the video store and we're only just seeing it."

"But wouldn't she turn into a wolf?"

"I don't know." Scott groaned. "Derek would know. H-He'd have the answers to all this."

"Okay, so let's just say your theory is right," Stiles suggested. "The Alpha howled at Malia to, what, bring her into the pack, too?"

"I think so. I think he was trying to."

"But it didn't work."

"No. I was a little preoccupied with my own shift, which hurt like hell, by the way. But... I remember her attacking him. If she was his beta, she wouldn't... She couldn't do that, not after he demanded obedience. That pull is too strong."

"So, the Alpha isn't her Alpha... But then, who is?"

Scott shook his head. "I have no idea."

---

…

---

"Not that I don't appreciate the hard work you're putting into chasing down Malia by her, uh, leavings. But I kind of feel like we're walking in circles." Stiles twirled around, squinting into the woods with a frown, the beam of his flashlight bouncing all around. "Or maybe all these trees just look the same, I don't know."

"No, you're right. She's marked what she wanted to, but… I can still smell her." Before Stiles could say anything, "I mean wildflowers."

"Right, sure." Stiles put a hand on his hip. "Well, which way'd she go?"

Scott took a deep breath and then closed his eyes. The problem with his advanced hearing was that he could hear too much. Every rustle of a tree branch, wind chimes rattling, the wind whistling, animal feet skittering, birds wings flapping. He needed to narrow it down, to fine tune it. Concentrate. He could hear Stiles' heartbeat and his own and…

And Malia's heartbeat was distinct.

What if it was the same even when she was a coyote?

Anchor. He needed to anchor himself and then he could direct his senses.

He thought of just that morning, in the muted light coming through the window. He'd woken with his nose buried in her hair, his chest pressed to her back, an arm stretched across her. The warmth of her body had sunk into his; he wanted to stay exactly where he was and soak it in. He could feel it the moment she woke up, too. The way her body tensed just a little, coming alive. And her voice, thick and raspy with sleep. When she'd turned onto her back, her arm brushing his chest, and looked up at him from beneath long lashes, he felt his heart thump and shift. She was so beautiful. She always was, but there was something intimate and personal about having her there, so close to him. Something freeing about seeing her when she first woke up and there were no defenses. Her smile was slow and her face was soft. Scott couldn't begin to count the amount of times he'd wished he could kiss her, but in that moment, it felt like he already had. Like he was seeing into a future where she loved him too and they'd skipped the awkward uncertainty of a friendship becoming more and settled themselves into the comfort of each other.

Thump, thump, thump.

Scott opened his eyes; everything around him was sharper, in more detail. Surrounding sound was muted, distant, but her heartbeat was so clear. He turned himself around to face it and started walking, ducking under a low hanging branch and climbing over a fallen log.

"Scott… Hey! Scotty, wait up. Where are you going?"

"I can hear her." Was he yelling? He felt like he was. But Stiles' voice sounded like it was coming through a wall. Scott crossed a creek, hopping over a few rocks to reach the other side. He climbed a hill, dirt and rocks sliding under each step. He grabbed onto a branch to haul himself up and then reached back, hooking his hand around Stiles' and pulling him and over.

"Wait, I know where are…" Stiles nodded and stepped forward, mouth twisted up in a grimace. "Malia makes me go the long way so she doesn't have to pass it."

Realization hit Scott like a brick. "The accident…" He picked up his pace, but just as he reached the edge of the trees, he paused. "Wait. I smell blood."

Stiles turned to him. "What? Like, hers or…? You think she attacked someone?" His brows hiked hopefully. "Maybe she took out the Alpha!"

Scott frowned. "Maybe."

"Nothing to do but find out." Stiles started forward, but Scott grabbed onto his arm.

"Be careful. She's not thinking straight."

"I'm not gonna spook a coyote, okay? I think I've got a little more control than tha—" Stiles broke off in a startled shout when he turned around and walked face-first into a branch. Batting it away, he leapt back and spat out a leaf that was stuck to his mouth. "Okay, all right. I'm good."

Scott stared at him drolly.

Stiles shrugged. "Starting now. I will be completely calm starting right now."

Rolling his eyes, Scott walked past him.

---

…

---

The ground smelled wrong. New grass had grown. Flowers filled in the areas that should be blackened with death. But the soil was rich and the earth had healed. She didn't like it. She wanted it to look like it did that first time Lia had visited. Tire marks on the road and the torn up grass. A broken fence and the skeleton of a tree, half of it lost to the accident, splintered wood hauled away. The smell of gasoline had still stung Lia's nose, pieces of twisted metal caught in shredded grass and clumps of dirt. And a road sign, bent sideways, like an arm that had snapped in the wrong direction. There were no bodies. Her mother and sister had long been packed away in bags and carried off to the morgue. But the ghosts of them lingered even now.

She laid in the grass, too green for her liking, and curled up as close as she could. Her side was still bleeding, refusing to heal. It was Lia's fault, she decided. Lia, who wouldn't stop clawing at her mind, desperate to get out. Didn't she understand? She was trying to keep her safe. To guard her against the pain and the hurt and the loneliness. That was why she came here, to remind Lia of why she was needed. Lia hated this place. She could feel it rattle her. Hear her desperate please of 'no-no-no' echo in her mind. But that was good. A scared Lia needed protection.

She wasn't expecting it to look like this, though. With a new sign and a fixed fence and a stump where the shattered tree once stood. It was all new and fresh. The acrid scent of death had long left. It wasn't fair. It deserved to wear the mark of loss forever. Blood soaked earth, littered with the remains of a car that couldn't save its precious cargo.

Her ears perked when she heard something. Footsteps coming her way. She was outside of her territory now, but not by much. Lifting her head, she sniffed at the air. Familiar. Turning onto her stomach, she pushed herself up. Her legs wobbled and her ribs hurt. Lowering her head, she cast her gaze across the long grass, and growled. It crawled up from her belly and ripped from her throat, a low and angry rumble.

The grass parted and there stood—

Her boys.

She tipped her head and eyed them.

They smelled nervous and were moving slow. Hesitating.

They should.

The woods were dangerous and the Alpha was still free. Stupid boys! Didn't they understand how much trouble they were in?

She snapped her teeth at them.

Her brother flinched and pulled his arms back, eyeing her uncertainly.

But her boy, he held his hands out. "Hey, it's okay. You're okay…" His voice was low, quiet, and soothing.

She shook her head. No, she was mad at him. At them. This was her job. She was hunting the Alpha, not them. Beginning to pace, she swished her tail irritably.

"Malia… You're safe. It's just us. You know who we are."

Of course she did. That was why she was mad. This was her territory to protect. Her people to protect. But here they were, tramping through the woods, defenseless. Humans were so pathetic. Better for eating than protecting. If it wasn't for Lia, she might take a bite out of them right now. Show them just how weak they were. The Alpha would destroy them, pull them apart as easy as she would a hare. Stupid boys. Stupid Lia for caring about them. Hadn't she learned yet? They all died. They all left her. Like her mom and her sister, these two would bleed into the earth, and new grass would grow, hiding it all away.

Her boy knelt down, arms resting on his legs as he stared at her searchingly. "I know you're scared. I was, too. I still am. But… you can't stay like this. You have to come back."

She huffed at him and bared her teeth. No. He was wrong. She could stay like this. She would. The trees would be her home. She would make a den and live there. But she would visit. Her tree with her swing. The dog and her father. Her brother and her boy. Only when she killed the Alpha, when her home was safe, then she would see them. Not now. Not here. They would only make her weak. Too soft, too warm. She had to be strong. She had to do this alone.

"Lia, I know you're in there. I know you can hear me."

Scott?

She stopped and tipped her head.

Scott!

Lia. Lia had heard him. And she wanted out. Lia clawed at the recesses of her mind with new fervor— screaming and rioting for freedom.

Snarling, she shook her head. No! It wasn't safe. She had to stay. She had to hide!

"You threw flowers at my head the first time we met, you remember that? You whipped 'em right at my face and told me to go away." Her brother was kneeling too, staring at her searchingly. "And I didn't. I didn't leave you then because I knew… Malia, I knew that you were going to be important to me." Licking his lips, he shook his head. "You're my best friend, all right? And as much as it sucks, it was losing people we loved, people we needed, that brought us together."

She looked back at him. The salty scent of his tears made her nose twitch. She didn't like it. Didn't like how his words made her stomach hurt.

"I know why you came back here. I know that you're just trying to find something familiar, something to hold onto, something you can use to keep fighting. But I also know that you already have that."

Stiles! Help me. Stiles, please! Let me out. Let me OUT!

"You have me, okay? I- I might not be a werewolf or a- a coyote, but… I'm gonna be there, every day. We can get through this. We— We can figure out how and why and… And it doesn't change anything, all right? You're still you. You're still exactly who you've always been."

Scott nodded and looked back at her with a faint smile. "You were always strong and smart and capable. If anybody can handle this, it's you."

She stared at them, these boys that Lia would die and kill for. These boys that made promises. Scott and Stiles. Flesh and bone, human and wolf, weak and scared, but also… Strong. Smart. Warm and funny and kind and loving. Gentle.

The grass didn't grow until they came. Healing didn't come until they made her laugh. Trust was built on the prickly back of her sorrow and grief, carving out a new path, a new hope. When Lia had been lost, they'd found her, and so they did again.

I'm scared. Please. I don't want to be scared anymore.

She walked toward them, gaze darting from one to the other. Scott stretched a hand out toward her. The tips of his fingers brushed the top of her nose and along her snout. They climbed the hill of her face and between her ears.

"Hey…" he murmured. "I've got you."

The shift felt slow and fast at the same time. It didn't hurt like it had when she'd become the animal, but it did feel like coming up from water. Like she'd been drowning and now she was free. Malia gasped in a shaky breath, wide eyes darting around in confusion. Where was she? What happened?

"Lia… Hey, look at me." Scott's hands cupped her face and her hands rose, wrapping around his wrists tightly. "You're okay."

"Scott?" Her brow furrowed. "What happened? Where am I?" A trembling sob climbed her throat. "What am I?"

"You're you." His thumbs rubbed away the tears that fell then, rubbing at her cheeks. "You haven't changed, okay? Not really."

But she had. She did. She could still feel the confines of her mind closing in around her, the bloody haze that had covered her vision, the animal that had taken over. And it wasn't… It wasn't clear. There were pieces missing. Her memory was fractured and confusing. But she knew. She knew she'd gone somewhere, trapped.

Suddenly, a blanket was around her, and Stiles was pulling it closed around her neck before rubbing her shoulders. "There. You're okay. What's a little public nudity between friends, right?"

Malia's watery eyes moved between them and her chin quivered. "I don't… I don't understand."

Scott looked back at Stiles silently, and then turned back to her. "All that matters is that you're okay."

"Did I… hurt anybody?" Her teeth clattered. "Is everyone okay? A-Allison and Lydia? I— I remember seeing Erica and Danny."

"They're all okay," Stiles told her. "We got out. We're okay."

Scott rubbed a hand down her hair and Malia leaned into it, her head falling into his palm. "We're gonna go home, okay? And we'll tell you everything we know."

Malia nodded, blinking quickly. She pulled her knees up, trying to stand, but her side hurt and her knees wobbled. "I c-can't."

"I've got you." Scott slipped an arm around her back and the other beneath her legs. He picked her up like it was nothing, cradling her against his chest.

Tired, Malia let her head fall against him and gripped the blanket tight around her. Her eyes fell to half-mast and she just tried to breathe. She knew where she was now, and she hated it. This was the crash site; the same one she'd visited shortly after finding out her mom and her sister were dead. She'd never returned to it again, and avoided it whenever possible. Why would she come here?

She could hear them talking, quiet whispers as they made their way through the woods. Malia drifted in and out, falling asleep but jarring back awake at a moment's notice. Her hearing came and went; sometimes it was so perfect, she swore she could hear a pine needle snap underfoot. Other times it felt like it was coming to her through a tunnel, a rush of distant noise. Everything was like that. She could smell Scott, but she could also smell a camp fire and the earth and incoming rain. The blanket around her was warm, but scratchy. Her entire body felt hypersensitive; the heat of Scott's body against her side, and his hands, soaking through the fabric. At the same time, her feet dangled, uncovered, and the cold breeze bit at her toes.

"…dad still isn't home. It's after midnight, where the hell is he?" Stiles' voice infiltrated her mind.

"Maybe that's good. He can't ask questions."

"Where are we taking her?"

"I don't know how Shiloh's going to react. Let's bring her back to my place. Your dad will ask questions, but my mom is probably sleeping by now. She worked a double."

"What if she isn't?"

"Then… I don't know. We'll tell her what happened at the school, as much as we can anyway."

"Yeah, and how are we going to explain Malia being naked?"

Scott sighed. "I don't know. We'll deal with it when we get there."

"He's right." Malia wiggled around and lifted her head. "I should change."

Scott paused his steps and looked down at her searchingly, his brow furrowed with worry. "Are you up for that?"

She nodded, even though the effort that took to do so felt exponential.

"Okay."

Scott climbed the porch then and Stiles was quick to get ahead and unlock the door. The living room was easy to cross, but it took some maneuvering to get her down the hall, with Scott walking sideways so her legs and head wouldn't knock into any walls. Eventually, they reached her room. Scott carried her to her bed and gently sat her down on the edge, taking hold of her shoulders to keep her upright.

"We brought you some clothes."

Stiles shrugged off his backpack and pulled out a bundle, dropping it on the bed beside her.

"Your phone is in my bag, in Stiles' jeep. I'll grab it for you." Scott backed away, pulling Stiles along with him. The door closed behind them, but was left open a crack.

Malia let the blanket fall from around her shoulders and reached for the clothes, unfolding them to see what was there. A t-shirt, some loose pants, socks, and underwear. She stared down at her hand, however. It was a rusty brown with dried blood. She swallowed tightly. Taking a deep breath, she pushed off the bed, swaying a little. It took a good thirty second, but her legs grew steady enough to move. She picked up her clothes and brought them with her to the bathroom. Placing them on the counter, she slowly raised her eyes and stared at her reflection. Bruises peppered her body. Her shoulder where she hit the locker, her side where the Alpha had stabbed her and then thrown her across the floor, her elbows and knees. Five deep slashes on her ribs were still bleeding; streams of blood made their way down her dirty skin. There were leaves in her hair and streaks of mud and blood covering whole patches of her skin. Blood had dried on her chin and she could still taste it in the crevices of her teeth.

Sniffling, she reached up and pulled whatever debris she could from the tangles of her hair. Picking up her brush, she worked out every knot until it looked halfway decent… halfway human. And then she moved to the bathtub and she turned on the water as hot as she could take it. Climbing in, she stood under the spray and let it wash away the evidence of what she was and what she'd done. Rusty water swirled around her feet as blood and dirt was stripped away. She scrubbed at her fingers, across her hands, and up her arms. She washed away Trisha and the Alpha and the stains they'd left on her. She washed away the tears that were still falling and the blood from the wound on her side.

When she closed her eyes, she saw fractions of memories. Chasing the Alpha, running through the woods, the swing in her backyard, the Hale house, her and Kylie's favorite tree. She could've been in the shower for minutes or hours, she wasn't sure. By the time she climbed out, she was simultaneously very awake and incredibly tired. Toweling herself off, she dug out the First Aid Kit that Melissa had insisted she keep, and dug out a bandage. While she had a pretty good idea that it would heal a lot quicker than it naturally should, this would at least keep it from bleeding through her clothes until then. She brushed her teeth then, scrubbing as hard as she could without splitting open her gums, trying to rid herself of any lingering blood.

Getting dressed, she took her towel back into her room and tossed it in the laundry basket. As she did, her door opened with a faint creak. Malia turned to see Shiloh peeking her head in.

Her heart leapt and she smiled. "Hey, girl."

Shiloh paused, cocked her head, and sniffed at her.

Worried that somehow her dog wouldn't recognize her, Malia got down on her knees and patted her hands against her thighs. "It's okay. Come see me."

Shiloh stepped closer, curious but careful, her body tensed and defensive.

Malia felt her heart lurch. "I won't hurt you. I would never…" Her breath caught. "I'm still me."

Shiloh's ears perked then and she quickened her steps. She crossed the distance between them and sniffed at Malia's face, licking at her cheeks.

Letting out a relieved sigh, Malia wrapped her arms around Shiloh and pressed her face down against her soft fur.

"Well, that's a good sign."

Malia looked up to find Stiles standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets.

"I, uh, I threw some mac n' cheese on for you. I thought you'd be hungry."

Sniffling, she nodded. "Yeah, I could eat."

"Cool, cool. Uh, I called my dad, told him I was staying over. He wasn't crazy about it, what with the whole serial killer aspect, but he's glad to hear you're okay, and he just wants me to check in every five minutes to prove I'm alive."

She snorted. "Sounds about right."

"We were gonna head back to Scott's, but with his mom, I figure…"

"It's easier here because my dad's not around." She nodded. "I get it."

Stiles stared down at her a beat before abruptly turning. He shifted the door closed behind him and then walked to her. Rubbing at his nose, he crouched down, taking a seat on the floor beside her. "You know this doesn't change anything, right?"

"I'm pretty sure it changes a lot." She turned watery eyes on him. "I'm different. You think I'd be used to that. 'Terrible Tate' was like a shitty warm-up to all this."

"I stuck with you through that alliteration nightmare and I'll stick with you through this." He shrugged. "It's just a little extra fur and a tail, right? So what?"

Malia chewed her lip. "I just… I have questions. I know I didn't get bit in the video store. So how did this happen? I- I don't get it."

Stiles leaned over and bumped her shoulder. "We'll figure it out."

Sighing, she turned to look at him. "I don't remember everything. What if… What if I hurt someone?"

"I don't think you did. I think… From what Scott tells me, it sounds like you were just trying to protect him from the Alpha."

"Not just him." She frowned, her brow furrowed. "I… I was in its head. The animal's. And… it cared. It wanted to protect you. It— It calls you its brother."

Stiles' eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." She shook her head. "It wants to kill the Alpha and protect… I think it sees you as part of its pack."

"I'm honored," he joked.

"I know I'm missing something. I- I just wish I could remember all of it." She sighed. "Maybe Derek can help."

Stiles pushed up from the floor then and scrubbed a hand over his hair. "It's been a crazy night, so… I'm gonna get that mac n' cheese ready and then we can talk. Or sleep. Or watch a movie, I don't know. Whatever you want to do." He backed away, toward the door, and ducked through it.

Malia looked down at Shiloh, who had laid down, turning onto her back and resting her head in Malia's lap. Petting her chest, Malia flipped up one of Shiloh's paws and dropped a kiss on it.

It was a few minutes before she pulled herself up and off the floor and moved to the bed, taking a seat on the edge. Shiloh hopped up behind her and laid down, curling up into a ball.

Every time she thought she was coping with the night, it felt like a new flood of feelings took her in a different direction. She needed to check in on Erica and Danny and Allison. Just to hear from them directly that they were okay. As if in answer, a knock echoed from her door.

Clearing her throat, Malia said, "Come in."

The door opened slowly and Scott stepped inside, holding her phone up for her. He crossed the floor and held it out.

Taking it, Malia was suddenly overwhelmed with everything she could and couldn't say. They were her friends too, but they had no idea what was really going on and she couldn't share it with them. Not only would they probably think she was crazy but at least one of them came from a family of hunters.

"Are you okay?"

Malia looked up, staring at Scott's openly concerned expression. "No. Not really."

He searched her face a long moment and took a seat next to her. "The first time I turned, I… I was scared and confused. I felt like I was going to throw up, it hurt so much. But then you were there, you got me out of the party and back home and… you stayed with me. You got me to breathe through it and you just, you made me feel like no matter what happened, I was going to get through it."

"You jumped out a window and ran into the woods."

"After, yeah. When I realized Derek had confronted you, scared you, and Stiles said he could be doing something to Allison. I felt like it was my fault. That I had to stop him." He shook his head. "Malia, you… You were my rock, every day. When I was freaking out and I just wanted things to go back to how they were; when I was scared that I would hurt someone; when I thought I was a monster…" He shifted in his seat so he could face her. "I'm still scared and I'm still learning and I don't know what comes next. I don't know what we do or who we become, but we can do it together. Because you make me strong. And I want to do that for you, too."

Malia took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She reached out and slid her hand into his. His fingers parted and hers fell into the space between. "I'm scared," she whispered. "I couldn't get out. I felt like I was screaming and nobody could hear me."

Scott pulled her closer, he lifted his arm up and around her, their fingers still knit together. "I'll find you. And I'll bring you back."

She smiled, her mouth trembling, and dropped her head to rest on his shoulder. "You promise?"

He kissed the top of her head before resting his cheek against it. "Promise."

Closing her eyes, Malia let out a shaky breath.

She believed him.

---

…

---

Stiles found them like that a few minutes later. He pointed a thumb behind him and then clapped his hands together. "Let's eat."

Standing, Scott pulled her up from the bed and down the hall to the kitchen. The three of them took a seat at her kitchen table, a pot of at least two boxes of Kraft mac n' cheese on the table with a large spoon, three bowls, and forks.

Malia slid into a seat and accepted the bowl that Stiles handed to her, filled to the top. She didn't realize quite how hungry she was until she was halfway through the bowl, her chin dressed in an unnaturally bright, orange hue.

"All right, calm down, you're gonna choke," Stiles warned. "Did you eat today?"

Malia nodded. "Danny took me out for dinner, but that was a while ago. And I've only had Skittles since."

"Skittles?" Stiles frowned. "Okay, not that mac n' cheese is exactly overflowing with nutrition, but still."

"They were a reward." She shrugged. "Right before we were trapped in the school, I was kicking ass at studying for that test."

"Hey, you think we'll still have school tomorrow?" Stiles looked from her to Scott. "I mean, the janitor's dead and the school's kind of a crime scene, so…"

"Probably not." Scott stirred his spoon around his barely touched food. "What'd your dad say?"

"They still can't find the janitor's body. There was a bunch of blood in the hallway though; they're looking into it."

Malia paused, her hand tightening around her spoon. "Trisha. The librarian. The Alpha killed her." She frowned. "Wait, there was no body?"

"No. Just the blood. That's the weird thing."

Malia sat back in her seat and looked between them. "Why would it take the bodies?"

"Can't charge anyone with murder without a body." Stiles shrugged. "Can't even really prove they're dead."

Malia sighed. "We'd have to know who the Alpha was to have them charged anyway."

Scott and Stiles exchanged a look.

"The evidence points toward Deaton." Stiles threw his hands up defensively. "Derek said he was hiding something and when Scott howled, Deaton was mysteriously missing from Derek's car before we were attacked by the Alpha. That's too coincidental."

"No." Scott shook his head. "I mean, I get why you think it's him, but… Deaton's whole career is about helping."

"Animals, not people."

"Yeah, but… I just don't see it. I mean, he's a good person."

"When he's not a werewolf, sure. Maybe when he's triggered, something goes weird in his brain." Stiles' brows hiked. "Not that I think that'll happen to you two. I'm just saying, we don't know everything that's going on."

Malia yawned, her jaw cracking from just how wide she's opened it.

"It's late. We should get some sleep." Scott pushed his bowl away. "We can figure this stuff out tomorrow." Standing, Scott took the empty bowls to the sink to rinse them out, while Stiles grabbed up the pot and tossed out what little was left.

Malia rested her elbows on the table, perched her chin on her hands, and watched them. Words were crowding in her throat, uncomfortably sincere. Licking dry lips, she said, "Thank you… both of you… for finding me."

They went still, before slowly turning around to face her.

"You kidding? Like I was going to pass up a chance to see a werecoyote." Stiles' gaze bounced between them. "That's what we're calling it, right? I think it has a nice ring to it."

Scott rolled his eyes. "You don't have to thank us. You'd do the same thing."

Malia smiled faintly, but then her brow furrowed. "How did you find me?"

Stiles smirked. "Yeah, Scott, how did we find her?"

Scott sent him a flat look. "It's a long story."

"Is it?" Stiles teased.

"It doesn't matter how. Let's just be happy we did." Scott turned back to the dishes then, but Malia had a feeling Stiles would be spilling the beans as soon as he got a chance.

---

…

---

The boys were sleeping on the floor. Malia pulled out the blow-up mattress and watched Stiles struggle to use the pump. It definitely took longer than it should have, but it was a bed. They threw some sheets on it, a pillow on either end, and shared a blanket. Shiloh had returned to her own bed in the corner of the room. With the door closed and Stiles' jeep parked a little deeper in the trees, Malia had some hope that even if her dad did come home, he wouldn't notice anybody was over. Then again, she had a feeling he wouldn't end up coming home. She wasn't sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, maybe it was good. As human as she looked, she clearly wasn't, and maybe having him around would only make that worse. There were so many mixed and hurt feelings around her dad, he was probably safer staying away from her. Another part of her, however, wished he was there. Wished he was the kind of person, the kind of father, that she could go to with something like this. That she could lay her fears out on the table and have him to tell her it was okay; she was going to be okay. But he wasn't, and he wouldn't.

Stiles was snoring. It was familiar enough that it was kind of comforting. That same nasally noise she heard every time they had a sleepover. That and the faint mumblings of whatever strange dream he was having, combined with the occasional grunt from Scott when Stiles inevitably kicked him in the face or shoulder.

They weren't far away— the blow-up mattress was right up against her bed. But she still felt lonely. Shifting herself to the edge of the bed, she turned onto her side and looked down at them. Stiles' head was at the other end, cheek down on the pillow, his mouth wide open. Scott was closer to her, one of his arms tucked behind his head. He was staring at the ceiling. She could see him almost perfectly, despite how dark it was in the room; every hill and valley of his face. His eyelashes, the shape of his nose, the shadow of stubble along his cheeks.

He reached a hand up to her; the backs of his fingers dragged along wrist and up, up, up, until they were brushing the stretch of her own fingers, folded over the edge of the mattress. He tucked his forefinger under hers and tugged. She lifted her hand and let him trace each of her fingers and along her palm. "At least we're not alone," he whispered. "We'll always have each other."

Malia stared down at him. This boy that she'd been trying so hard to protect since forever, but especially since finding out he had been turned into a werewolf. It had seemed surreal, what he was facing and what he'd become, but she'd done what she could to be there, to support him through it. Now that she was facing a similar situations, she didn't know how to feel. But, he was right. They could walk this path together. "I know why I turned. I mean, not why I'm a shifter, obviously, but I know what caused it to, uh… trigger, I guess."

"Yeah?"

"It was you."

His brow furrowed and he stared up at her searchingly.

"When he was hurting you, when he had you pinned to the floor, I… I thought I was going to lose you and… I couldn't. But I was helpless, I was stuck there, I felt like I couldn't move, like I had no control over my body, and then… She took over."

"She?"

"The coyote." Malia shook her head. "It hurt. It felt like my skin was being torn open, but… Then she was there and she was in control and… It was like I was in the backseat, watching. I don't remember everything, but I know she was trying to protect you." Hers. Her boy, that was what the coyote called him.

"She did a pretty great job." Scott half-smiled. "I know it seems scary now and it'll probably feel that way for a while, but… I think you're going to be amazing at it."

Malia hummed. "It doesn't feel like it."

"I know you. This is just one more part of you. It's just like when it happened to me. You told me I was the same, that I was exactly who I'd always been and nothing could take that away from me." He nodded. "You protect people, Malia. You, the coyote, it's the same."

"Maybe," she whispered.

Scott pushed his hand up until their palms met. "We'll find your anchor. It'll be different then."

Malia folded her fingers down over his hand and squeezed. "Will you tell me everything tomorrow? Everything that happened."

Scott nodded. "Everything."

Letting out a quiet breath, she settled her head down on her arm. "Don't let go."

"I won't."

---

…

---

Blood spatter on her face. It dripped from her teeth and pooled in her mouth. It clung to her fur and drenched her hands. Every breath was wet and coppery. She was saturated with it.

Bathing in moonlight, dressed in blood.

Yellow eyes, red eyes, a wolf on the horizon.

An Alpha, howling at the moon, at her.

OBEY.

No.

Nonono.

Her bones rattle and her lungs squeeze. Her skin splits and her nails grow.

Fangs tearing into skin, pawed feet digging through flesh and bone.

Five claws through her ribs; she yelps.

Thrown like a rag doll; she bounces when she hits the floor. Growls to hide a whimper.

ATTACK.

Get up, get up.

There's no time for pain, no time to waste.

Kill the Alpha, save her boy.

Kill the Alpha.

Kill.

KILL.

Yellow Girl with her raised chin.

Tall Boy and his chain.

Soft Girl shaking so bad she can hear her teeth clattering.

Get the Alpha. Follow, trap, kill.

Defend!

Defend your home.

Defend your pack.

Tear his spine out with your teeth.

Feed on the waste you make of him.

Torn skin and scored entrails.

Bathe in his blood. Roll in it until it coats your fur.

Dance in the misty blood that floats on the wind.

"Malia! Run!"

The roar is deafening.

She likes it. A part of her wants to submit. Lay down her head and let the Alpha guide her.

NO.

There is no wolf here. The coyote will follow no wolf. She is her own. She will make her own pack. Her and her boy.

And her brother.

And The Yellow Girl.

The Tall Boy.

The Soft Girl.

Mine. They are all mine.

"Took you look enough."

Defend them. Protect them.

Blood in her mouth. Skin under nails.

An Alpha howls, but she can howl, too.

She will howl.

Louder.

Stronger.

Better.

Blood on her tongue. It coats her teeth.

She likes it.

---

…

---

Malia was screaming. Scott startled awake and sat up. Thrashing in bed, she was kicking her legs, her arms flying around. She whined, crying out, her eyes still closed.

Shoving the blanket off himself, he knelt on the air mattress and flipped her bedside lamp on.

A sleepy and confused Stiles was sitting up, too. "What the hell…?"

"She's having a nightmare." Climbing onto the bed, Scott struggled to catch Malia's flailing arms. Her claws were out and he couldn't help but worry she ight unintentionally hurt herself. His fingers folded around her wrists and tried to hold them down. "Malia! Hey, stop, it's us. Wake up!"

Her eyes opened and her brow furrowed. Her body was still wiggling all around, shoulders back and head darting back and forth. "It's in my mouth. It's in my mouth!"

"What is?"

"Blood. There's blood in my mouth."

"No, there isn't. Lia, it was a dream."

"I can't get out. I'm stuck. Let me out!" She tried to lift her legs, but when she couldn't, her whole torso lifted off the bed and she started fighting against Scott's grip, tears streaming down her face. "Let me out, let me out…"

"It's the blanket." Stiles worked at unraveling it from around her legs. "There, see. You're okay. You're free!"

Malia's eyes— a sharp yellow— darted around. "I'm not— I can't—"

"Look at me." Scott released one of her wrists and reached for her face, turning it so they were eye to eye. The length of her nose had flattened, blonde hair had sprung from her eyebrows, and her teeth had lengthened. "There's no blood. It's in your head. It was a bad dream. You're okay."

Her mouth trembled. "I… I can t-taste it."

"I'll get her some water." Stiles hopped off the bed and left the room, hurrying to the kitchen.

Scott wiped the tears from her cheeks. "You wanna sing the song, huh?"

She stared up at him searchingly.

"It's okay. I can start." He smiled softly. "Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night, and wouldn't you love to love her? Takes to the sky like a bird in flight, and who will be her lover? All your life you've never seen a woman taken by the wind… Would you stay if she promised you heaven? Will you ever win?"

His voice was crackly and deep from sleep; it wasn't exactly his best singing. But Malia didn't seem to care. She just closed her eyes and breathed through her nose.

Scott's thumb rubbed a soft circle on her cheek. "She is like a cat in the dark, and then she is the darkness… She rules her life like a fine skylark, and when the sky is starless…"

He could hear her heartbeat slow down and her breathing even out the longer her sang. Her nails and teeth shortened and her face smoothed out. Slowly, she opened her eyes, now a familiar dark brown.

He half-smiled. "Okay?"

She nodded.

"Here." He helped her sit up and reached around for her pillows, stacking them behind her.

Stiles walked into the room then, glass of water in hand. He passed it to her and watched as she guzzled the whole thing down. "There you go. No more blood, right?"

Clutching the empty glass to her chest, she rubbed an arm over her face. "I- I'm sorry. I don't… It just felt so real."

Scott shook his head. "It's okay."

"Yeah, I think I'd be having nightmares, too." Stiles' eyebrows hiked. "I still might."

Malia chewed her lip and rubbed her fingers under her eyes. "Can you just…?" She tapped her fingers against the glass and closed her mouth around the words.

"You want us to stay up here?" Scott offered. "We can do that." He glanced at Stiles. "Right?"

"Oh yeah, totally. Might be a little cramped, but we can make it work."

Malia nodded. "Just for tonight."

Scott reached down and grabbed up the other blanket and the pillows from the blow-up mattress. He tossed Stiles his pillow and then spread the blanket out over her.

Malia shuffled down the bed until she was laying on her back, clutching at the top of the blanket.

Stiles crawled in on her left side while Scott laid on the right. He tucked his pillow under his head and wiggled around until he was comfortable. "Good?"

Malia nodded, a quick jerk of her head.

"You want the light on or off?" Scott wondered.

She bit her lip, hesitating, before saying, "Off."

Scott flipped it off and then laid down beside her once more. He was tired, but worried, and that kept him from closing his eyes. As time passed, he could feel her begin to relax. The tension slowly bled away and she turned soft beside him. He watched as Malia's hands slowly unfolded from the blanket and moved down. She found Stiles' hand first, gripped it tight, and then found Scott's. He listened to her heartbeat for any signs she was getting nervous again. But minutes went by and eventually, her eyes drifted closed and her grip on him loosened. Until, finally, she was asleep. Closing his own eyes, he let himself drift away, all the while waiting for so much as a twitch of her finger.

---

…

---

Come morning, Malia found herself still feeling emotionally exhausted. The sun crept in through the window and she could tell she wasn't the only one in bed, but one of them was missing. Hearing the familiar voices of the Belcher family, Malia realized Stiles was watching an episode of Bob's Burgers in the living room. Which meant the warmth besides her was—

"How're you feeling?" Scott's hand rubbed her shoulder and down her arm.

Turning her head, she looked back at him. "Kind of hoping everything I remember is just a really terrible dream."

He winced. "Nope."

"Yeah, I figured." Sighing, she turned onto her back and stared at the ceiling. "Derek said the only way someone can turn is by bite or birth. But I know— I know the Alpha didn't bite me."

Scott hummed. "That only leaves one option."

Malia chewed her lip and turned to look at him. "It's not my dad. He couldn't hide that, could he?"

"What about your mom?"

Swallowing, she shook her head. "Maybe. What if she was and my dad didn't know? Because he'd tell me if he did, right? He'd warn me that something like this was going to happen."

"Maybe Derek's wrong. Maybe there's another way to turn."

"Like what?" She raised an eyebrow. "Spontaneous turning? Exposure to other werewolves? And if that's true, why aren't I a wolf?"

"I don't know." Scott frowned. "Derek told you a lot more about this stuff than he told me."

She frowned. "Then I have to talk to him. I need to know what he knows."

Scott looked away then. "Malia… Look, last night, something happened."

She went still then, her stomach bottoming out. "What?"

"After Derek accused Deaton of being the Alpha, I had to prove him wrong. That's why we were at the school. He was just going to keep hurting him if I didn't stop it. So, I… I howled. I wasn't sure how long it would take, but then… It was like Stiles said. Derek had Deaton in his car, but after I howled, when we got to the parking lot, he was gone. And then… the Alpha was there. And it— It attacked Derek."

"What?" Her brow furrowed. "What happened? Where is he?"

"He wasn't moving and there was so much blood. I… I thought he was dead."

"Thought?"

"I don't know. His car wasn't there when we got out, but… He looked dead. And just… It was so confusing. Suddenly, Allison was there, and so was Lydia and Jackson, and they wanted to know what was going on, who we were running from. I couldn't tell them it was the Alpha."

Malia could hear her heart pounding in her ears. She sat up and stared down at him. "What did you do?"

"It was a mistake." He sat up with her, wincing. "I panicked! They just kept asking who it was and why they were trying to hurt us and I… I thought if Derek was dead then it wouldn't matter—"

"Even if he was dead, that would be how people remembered him. As a killer!"

"I know. I- I wasn't thinking about that." He shook his head. "I just— I needed to give them an answer and… He was the first person I thought of."

"So, they think he's some kind of serial killer? The police, too?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah."

Groaning, Malia scrubbed her hands over her face and let out a hysterical laugh. "Why? Why would you do that to him?"

"It was a mistake. If I could take it back—"

"But you can't." Pushing off the bed, she rubbed a hand over her mouth and shook her head. "If he is dead… He didn't deserve that. He doesn't deserve to be remembered like that. I know you guys don't get along. I know he could be a dick to you. But, Scott…"

"It wasn't about that. I couldn't think straight." His eyes widened. "I was scared and worried and I just said the first thing I could think of."

"If he's not dead, now he's going to have the police chasing him for something he didn't do." She started pacing. "We have to find him. I need to know."

"The car wasn't there. If he got out, then he's hiding somewhere, healing. And if he didn't…" He stared at her searchingly. "Malia, I'm sorry. I know you cared about him."

Hugging her arms around herself, she swallowed tightly. "He made a lot of mistakes. He should've talked to us more. But… He was scared too, I think. He doesn't get close to people, not after he lost his family. It was hard for him to trust us."

"Lia…" At some point, Scott had left the bed, and was standing in front of her. He reached out and uncrossed her arms, drawing her hands out for her to see. Her fingers were tipped with claws. As her heart jumped, he rubbed his thumbs over her hands. "It's okay. You can control it. Just breathe. Think— Think of your mom or Kylie. Think about something that makes you feel safe."

Malia stared down at her hands, her claws resting against Scott's all too vulnerable wrists. "But I'm not safe. I'm dangerous. I— I turn into a literal animal. I—"

"I'm not afraid of you." Scott's gaze was earnest. "I've got claws too, remember? There's almost nothing you could do that'll hurt me. Not really. Nothing I can't heal from."

"I'm mad. I'm pissed. At you and the Alpha and myself." Her breathing picked up. "I'm mad at Derek, because I cared about him. I trusted him. And he's not here. And I know that's not his fault. But I… I wish he was. Because I have questions. I have so many questions and I need him to answer them."

"I know."

"And I— I hate the Alpha. For doing this to you and me and for Trisha…" Her voice quivered. "She's dead and I— I slipped in her blood and it was e-everywhere." Her eyes filled with tears. "And I can't get her face out of my head. I let her go. I knew the Alpha was in the school, but I let her walk away. I got her killed!"

"No. Malia, this isn't on you." He shook his head. "The Alpha did that. Not you."

"I didn't stop her." She sucked in a shaky breath. "And Erica. I- I invited her to the school. I wanted to help her. She was so scared after what happened at the video store. But I made it worse. I'm the reason she had to go through it again. If she didn't know me—"

"You got her out of the school. Her and Danny. You saved their lives." He tugged on her hands and drew her closer. "You saved us, too. Turning on the music to hide us, you did that. You thought of that."

"I couldn't save you in the gym. I just stood there. I was stuck."

"You did save me. You shifted and you protected me." His hands skimmed up her forearms lightly. "It's okay to be mad. I screwed up. And it's okay to be scared. I am, too. But you can do this. I know you can."

"How?"

"Because." He raised her arms, where her hands were just as human as ever. "You're stronger than you think."

Malia let out a shaky sigh. Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around him and dropped her head down to his shoulder. "I'm still pissed about what you did."

"I know." His arms banded over her back, one hand curved around her shoulder. "I deserve it."

"And I want to find him. Even if…" She swallowed. "Even if he's dead. We need to find him."

"Okay." He nodded. "We will."

Turning her face down, she closed her eyes and breathed him in. "I feel weak and emotional and I don't like it."

"You're just overwhelmed." He reached a hand up and brushed it over her hair. "It takes some getting used to."

"I still want to know." She lifted her head then and turned to look at him. They were standing close enough that her nose nearly brushed his. "I want you to tell me what happened. After Derek, when you were in the school."

Scott nodded. "Okay."

---

…

---

Once she was filled in, she found herself feeling strangely empty and weighed down at the same time. "So, the Alpha wants you to kill everyone?"

"Except you," Stiles pointed out, before giving her a thumbs-up. "Congratulations on that."

She rolled her eyes. "What are we going to do?"

"At this point, I don't know." Scott shrugged, his shoulders hiked. "It kind of feels like we're just waiting for the Alpha to attack again."

"But that won't do anything." She frowned. "We need to be better next time. You fought it and you were good. You didn't win, but you were fast and I think you surprised it." Malia started pacing across her living room floor. "We need to train."

"Train?" Stiles' brows raised. "Train how?"

"We need to figure out how to use our abilities without second-guessing ourselves. So when it does attack, we can fight it off, and maybe win this time."

"When you say win…?"

Malia frowned. "Your dad can't exactly arrest an Alpha werewolf."

"Which means, what? That we kill it?" Stiles looked from her to Scott. "Are we prepared to do that?"

"No," Scott said. "And even if we could, is that really what we want to do?"

Malia pursed her lips. "What do you think Derek was going to do? Invite it out for dinner and arrange some kind of truce? The Alpha's killed four people."

Scott scrubbed a hand over his face. "Look, I agree with the training part. We should be able to defend ourselves, and the people we care about. But I don't know if I can kill it."

"Fine. Then we don't think about that part yet." She shook her head. "But we'll have to talk about it at some point. Because this thing is just going to keep killing people until it gets what it wants. And currently, it wants you."

Scott stared at her a long beat. "And you."

Malia flinched. Changing the subject, she said, "I need to shower and make a few phone calls. We should meet up later. We can start looking for Derek."

"Yeah, sure." Stiles stood from the couch and knocked his hand against Scott's shoulder. "Just, keep us updated, okay?"

She nodded. "I will."

Crossing the divide, Stiles reached for her, and pulled her into a hug. "Green?"

A smile pulled at her mouth. "Green."

Leaning back, he placed a hand on her head and shook it, grinning when she glared. "We'll be okay. All of us."

She really wanted to believe that and, for a second, she might have.

As Stiles stepped back and made his way to the door, Scott took his place. "If anything happens, you start feeling overwhelmed or scared or anything…"

"I'll call you."

"And I'll be here as fast as I can."

She half-smiled. "I know."

They stood there, lingering for a long moment. Until, eventually, Scott stepped back. "Okay. I'll text you later to check in. We can make a plan."

Malia nodded.

As he turned and left for the door, she hugged her arms around herself. She flicked her hand up in a wave when he looked back, closing the door behind him.

Alone, she let out a sigh. She could hear their footsteps crossing the dirt driveway to the jeep.

"You think she's okay?" Stiles wondered.

"No," Scott admitted. "But, she will be."

Closing her eyes, she nodded.

She would be okay.

---

…

---

Erica looked up as the bell rang above the door. She leaned out of her seat and stretched to see who it was. On the table was a mug of tea, her hands cupped tight around it. When he reached the table, she blew out a sigh. "I'm surprised you showed up."

Danny shrugged and slid into the other side of the booth. The diner was busy with people and loud with the clatter of cutlery. "I figure last night was its own kind of bonding experience… And I was hoping you'd heard from Malia."

"No." She chewed her lip. "Not yet."

"I called the station a few times. I can't exactly put out a missing person's report for her. They need her dad to do it." He rubbed at his eyes and sighed. "Look, I know Malia. She's fast and smart and… There's no way she didn't get out. I don't know where she is, but she'll have a good reason for wherever she went and why."

"Don't you have questions." Erica shook her head. "We were chased and hunted in that school. The police said there was blood all over one of the hallways, but they never found a body. Why? And who?"

Danny looked up as a waitress dropped by their table. He turned his coffee mug over to be filled and then leaned back in his seat, tapping his fingers against the table. "Trisha never made it out. I didn't see her outside and none of the deputies said they'd found her. The blood could be hers."

"And the body?"

"Maybe it wasn't a person. Maybe it was another mountain lion and they ate the body. Or dragged it back to the woods."

"Mountain lions can't block doors with dumpsters. People did this. Or maybe just one person."

Danny looked away, rolled his eyes, and then said, "According to Jackson, it was Derek Hale. He said Scott told him he'd seen Derek kill the janitor."

Erica pulled a face. "Who the hell is Derek Hale?"

"The Hales used to be a big family in Beacon Hills. They lived out in the preserve. Until a fire killed most of them. Laura Hale's body was found in the woods last month. I saw it in the paper."

"You think he killed her?"

"I don't know. I have no idea what's happening or why." Shaking his head, Danny shrugged. "All I know is that I went to the library last night to help a friend, and now she's gone."

"Maybe we're asking the wrong people."

Danny's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"We keep going to the police, but if anyone knows where she is it's her friends."

"Scott and Stiles."

Erica nodded. "I need to see her for myself. And I want to know what else they know."

"You think they're hiding something?"

"I think it's weird that Scott's the only one who knows who the killer is."

Danny stared at her a beat and then dropped his gaze to his coffee. "If it means finding Malia, I'm in."

---

…

---

The weather was a lot more blustery than Malia expected; it kicked up her hair and sent it slapping against her face, lashing cold cheeks and a runny nose. The grass crunched underfoot as she stood, hands tucked in the pockets of her jacket, staring at a familiar headstone. She couldn't begin to count how many times she'd found herself standing in this same spot, tracing the letters of her mother's name.

She started and stopped a few times, second guessing what she wanted to say. Toeing the ground, she clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes at herself. "I wish you were here. I know I say that a lot, but… This time's different. Bigger, I guess. I feel like you'd know what to do or what to say and… It'd make this better somehow." Her brow furrowed and she licked her lips. "Maybe you'd know why this happened and maybe you wouldn't, but… I think you'd be okay with it. Not in like a, 'gee, I sure hope Malia turns into a wild animal when she's upset' kind of way. But… I don't know. Nothing ever really fazed you. And you were always okay with me, no matter what weird thing I was into. Like that one year I told you I wanted to be an ice cream truck. Not drive one, be one. And all you said was that I'd probably get cold and they don't make jackets for trucks." She laughed then, a huffing snort that bled into a smile. "I wonder what you'd say now… Maybe you'd crack a joke about fleas or mange or something dumb like that."

Her hands folded into fists then and she looked away. "I can't talk to dad. Which might be the understatement of the last six years. But, this is kind of a big thing, right? We live together. If I do something, if I lose it, I could hurt him, and… I don't know what to do about that. Do I stay away? At least until I can get control. Do I tell him and hope he actually hears me for once? Or… Or I don't know. What else is there?" Crossing her arms, she chewed her lip as her eyes watered. "You could always talk to him. He listened when you were here. And I— I don't have that. I can't make him hear me. And maybe that's an excuse. Maybe that's just how I make it okay. Because he should listen, right? Even though you're gone, he should still be here and he should— He should care."

Closing her eyes, Malia rubbed the heels of her palms over them and sniffled. "This is stupid. I don't know why I'm crying. I feel like that's all I've done all morning. I just… There's so much going on and I don't know what to focus on. I'm scared and I hate it. I hate that I can't trust myself. I hate that I feel alone even though I know I have people. Really good people that will be here for me. But, I do. I feel like I'm some kind of freak and I just want to know why." She turned her gaze back to the headstone and stared at it until her eyes blurred. She waited for something to change, for some grand understanding to write itself in the cement. But it didn't.

"Was it you?" she wondered. "Were you a shifter? Did— Did you hide it from us the whole time? Was it just always there, passed down to me, and I never knew? I— I don't get it. And I'm mad, mom. I'm pissed that you aren't here to answer these questions. That no one is. I'm just out here, alone, stupidly wishing for something I know I can't change. That's the dumb part, right? I came here thinking somehow, I would just know. Even though I've been here a thousand times before. That I'd stand here, and some divine wisdom would just penetrate my brain and make this better somehow. Because maybe I wouldn't hate it so much if I knew it was a part of you. Maybe it wouldn't be the worst if I knew that I was just following in your footsteps. But I don't know. I'm just stuck here, without you, and… it sucks."

Reaching up, she rubbed at her ruddy cheeks, wiping away the tears that wet them. She pulled her sleeves down over her hands and crossed her arms. Walking a few steps over, she stopped in front of Kylie's grave and sighed. "You would love this. I just know it. You'd think it was the coolest thing and you'd spend every day running around in the woods." Malia frowned. "I wish you could."

A loud, tinny clatter could be heard then and Malia turned. Was it loud or was that just her hearing acting up? She scanned the graveyard, but visitors were far and few. A few rows over, however, there was a man… A boy? Someone was walking grave to grave, collecting the old and wilted flowers. He'd knocked over a metal vase. Startled, he'd dropped everything in his arms, and was hurrying to pick it all back up. Malia's feet were moving before she'd given it much thought. She checked the time on her phone and then tucked it back in her pocket. Allison would be picking her up soon, but she had some time to spare.

"You need some help?"

The boy jumped, narrow shoulders hunched up to his ears. The flowers he was holding tumbled to the ground once more, and he winced. A thorn had sliced open his thumb; Malia could smell the blood beading on his skin. It left a sour taste in her mouth and her stomach turned over, queasy.

"It's fine. I can do it," he mumbled.

"Four hands are quicker than two." She bent down and started gathering up the flowers nearest her, carefully stacking them in her hands so the thorns wouldn't catch her skin. The smell coming off the flowers was pungent; some of the stems were mushy with rot. She breathed through her mouth to avoid the stink. "You think it was a florist that came up with the idea that we should lay out flowers for the dead?"

He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, mouth kicked up faintly. "Not a terrible business plan."

She snorted. "Right?"

He held his bundle of dead and dying flowers close to his chest, petals and leaves clinging to his shirt sleeves. Standing, he stared down at her, his gaze darting away and back. He reminded her of a spooked animal; skittish and nervous. "Are you… Were you… uh, visiting someone?"

"Yeah. A couple people." She stood and walked to the bag he had nearby, half-filled with debris and flowers. "You're a little young to be working at a graveyard, aren't you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Is there an age requirement for that?"

Amused, she shrugged. "Can't say I've looked it up." Tossing the flowers away, she dusted her hands off. "Just a weird job for a teenager to have, I guess."

"Maybe I'm weird."

Humming, she said, "I'm Malia."

"Isaac."

"I've got some time to waste, you want some help with the rest of this row?"

He looked back at what was left and then to her, his eyes wide. "Really?"

"I'm not a big fan of being alone with my thoughts and my friend isn't going to be here for a while. You're doing me a favor, trust me." She walked past him then and crouched down to pick up a cluster of brown peonies. "You ever wonder what their stories are?"

"Who?" He walked alongside her, dragging the garbage bag and holding it out for her to toss the flowers in.

She nodded her chin toward the nearest grave. "You know, check the dates and try to piece together what happened. How long did they have, how'd they die, totally macabre stuff like that."

His voice was quiet as he said, "Sometimes."

"Which one's your favorite?"

"My favorite dead person?"

"Dead person's story," she corrected.

He took a deep breath. "There's a boy on the other side of the cemetery. He died young, maybe my age. All it says is that he was loved and missed by all… I like to think he had a big family. Lots of brothers and sisters. He was close to his mom. He grew up happy. Plenty to eat, a few close friends, normal stuff. And when he died, it was peaceful. Maybe he wasn't expecting it. Just quick, you know? No pain."

Malia nodded. "Best way to go, I guess."

"Yeah." Isaac glanced at her. "You're friends with Lydia Martin."

She huffed a laugh. "Friends is stretching it. Friendly, maybe."

He nodded, a quick jerk of his head. "I borrowed her pencil once. I forgot to give it back and I thought for sure she'd yell at me. I don't think she even remembered."

Malia half-smiled. "Does it still haunt you?"

He snorted. "No. It's just weird."

"What is?"

"What you start to think is kind. Like someone not talking to you. It's a catch twenty-two. Because if she doesn't notice, it never really mattered. But if she does, it might hurt."

Malia had a feeling they weren't talking about Lydia, not really. And, unfortunately, she could relate. Her dad was like that. Malia's life blew up and he was nowhere to be seen. If she never said anything, he didn't even seem to notice. "Maybe it's better not to rely on how much a person does or doesn't care. They're going to do whatever they want. You kind of have to decide if you're going to let it matter or not."

He looked over at her from the corner of his eyes, not quite turning his head. He seemed strangely small for a boy so tall. Sunken cheeks and bags under his eyes made him look all too fitting in a cemetery. His clothes were baggy and his body gangly in that all arms and legs kind of way. But there was something soft and lost about him, too. Or maybe she was feeling poetic after the last two overemotional days.

Malia's phone buzzed in her pocket and she reached for it. Allison's name stared back at her. Answering it, she smiled. "Hey. Where are you?"

"Parked in a cemetery. For the record, after last night, meeting you here, of all places, is twelve shades of creepy."

Malia snorted. "I'll remember that for next time." Turning on her heel, she cast her gaze out across the cemetery, and finally spotted Allison's car in the distance. "I see you. I'll be there in a minute."

"Okay. Hurry. This place is freaking me out."

Hanging up, Malia turned to face Isaac, who had returned to picking up the flowers on his own and was a few graves away by now. "Sorry. She was quicker than I expected."

"It's fine. It's my job. I'd probably get in trouble if anybody saw you, anyway."

"If you do, tell them it was my idea." She crossed her arms then. "Hey, about before… People not noticing and all that… I know the feeling." She shrugged. "Probably in a different way and we hardly know each other, so you don't have to tell me your life story or something, but… Someone I know, someone I trust, told me that what other people do, even what they don't do, isn't a reflection on you. It's really easy to take the blame for other people's bullshit, but… it sucks, and you shouldn't have to."

Isaac stood, facing away from her, wisp thin and curled in on himself. It took a few seconds, but eventually, he nodded. "Do you think… Can they change?"

She stared at him a long moment. "I don't know."

He swallowed tightly. "I don't think so." He looked back at her then, haunted and sad. "I'm not sure I'd forgive them even if they did."

Malia felt a weight fill her chest and sink down into her stomach. She didn't have the words to make it better, but she wasn't sure any really existed.

"Your friend's waiting. You should go." He started walking again, plucking flower after flower and tossing them away.

Malia watched him a long moment and then took a deep breath. She turned on her heel and made her way toward Allison's SUV. While she'd called her earlier just to let her know she was okay, Allison had insisted on meeting in person. And Malia got it. The closer she got to her, the more eager she felt about seeing her. Last night had been awful in every possible way. Yes, they survived, but it still left her on edge, feeling raw and exposed.

The driver's side door swung open then and Malia's footsteps quickened.

Allison hopped out and made her way toward her, breaking out in a jog that covered the last bit of road between them. Throwing her arms around Malia, Allison let out a shaky breath against her shoulder.

Malia sunk into the hug and wound her arms around Allison's waist. "We just talked."

"It's different." Allison squeezed her. "We all got out. I could see them. But you… You were gone." Shaking her head, she leaned back and stared down at her. "Where were you?"

"After Danny and Erica were out, I turned on the music, and then I tried to find you guys, but I saw someone. So, I went in the other direction and…" She winced. "They killed Trisha, the librarian. I slipped in her blood and it was just… everywhere. I know it doesn't make sense, but when I realized we were okay, I went to the gym. I needed to get the blood off. It was dumb and I wasn't really thinking straight. I just… I saw the body and there was so much blood…"

"Oh my God…" Allison stared at her searchingly. "No, you don't have to apologize. That's… I don't even know what I would do." She rubbed Malia's arms. "Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?"

"Actually, at this point, talking about it is kind of the last thing I want to do."

"I get it." Half-smiling, she said, "You want to get out of here? We can get something to eat or go back to my place and watch a movie… Whatever you want."

"I'm always up for food."

Allison's grin widened. "Okay." She paused then, and her face fell. "One more thing and I won't mention it again for the rest of the day."

"Sure."

"This is so high school and it probably doesn't even really need to be said, but… Last night, when we were trapped in the school and you were out there, trying to help us, I was scared. Not just for me, but for you. And when I got out and you weren't there, when I couldn't' find you, I… I thought the worst." She blinked quickly, tears clinging to her lashes. "And I realized that… you're my best friend." She rolled her eyes. "It probably shouldn't take a serial killer to figure that out, but… I don't know. The thought of losing you really scared me and… I know things are crazy and weird and it feels like they're only getting worse, but… I wanted you to know that. Because you matter to me and I thought for a second that I might not get to tell you." She stared at her searchingly. "And I think we should say those things. Especially when we're scared."

Had anyone told Malia that one day, the same girl that Scott had a crush on would become one of her closest friends, Malia would not have believed them. It was too complicated. There were too many feelings attached that she just couldn't overlook. But, here she stood, in front of Allison, fully aware that she was Scott's something, that she came from a long line of hunters that would gladly mount Malia's head on a wall, and the truth was that it didn't matter. She and Allison had built a relationship despite all of that, whether she knew it or not, and Malia appreciated it.

"You're my best friend, too."

Allison smiled then, so wide and sincere that her dimples seemed deeper than ever. "Okay."

"You wanna get food now?"

She laughed. "Yes."

"Me, too. I'm starving. The last thing I ate was mac n' cheese. I skipped breakfast and I'm seriously regretting it."

Scrunching up her nose, Allison shook her head. "Well, we'll have to fix that."

"Exactly." Malia backed away then, circling around the SUV for the passenger door. She glanced behind her, back toward Isaac, and found his thin figure still moving row to row, flower to flower. She hoped he found some kind of peace.

For Malia, that loneliness that had been plaguing her all morning chipped away just a little in the face of Allison's friendship. Maybe she had a point. Maybe, instead of bottling up her feelings, she should start sharing them. She had a pretty good idea of where to start.

---

…

---

"I understand that I'm not always here. Work keeps me busy. But that doesn't mean that I don't want to be here, or that I'm not thinking about you and worrying." Melissa bustled around the kitchen with no exact purpose, seeming to funnel her frustration into opening and closing drawers and cupboards, moving things from one shelf of the fridge to another. Planting her hands down on the counter, she blew out a heavy sigh. "All I'm saying is that when I get a phone call from the Sheriff's department that you were trapped inside a school and that you saw someone killed—"

"They haven't found a body yet and I'm pretty sure they think I'm lying."

Melissa cut her eyes toward him. "Scott... Did you see someone die in that school?"

He clenched his teeth and nodded.

"Okay. Then I believe you. And I'm worried about you. I feel like things have been strange lately. You're skipping school—"

"It was one time!" he defended.

"Your teachers are telling me that- that you're distracted and anxious and you're missing homework assignments."

He shifted his feet. "I know, and I'm working on that."

"Working on what?" Melissa walked toward him, searching his face. "What is going on and why can't you tell me?"

"Nothing."

She cocked her head, unconvinced. "Is this about Allison?"

"What? No."

"Is it about Malia?"

Scott groaned. "Mom..."

"I know she's going through a lot. Between her dad and what happened at the video store and now last night on top of things..." She frowned. "Noah said they didn't find her, but they have eye-witness accounts that Malia was there, she got two other kids out, and then nothing."

"Malia's okay. She's at home."

"And that's where you were, right? You stayed with her?"

"Yes. Me and Stiles did."

Melissa pressed her lips flat. "Because something happened to her...?"

"Because she was scared. B-Because somebody locked us in a school and was hunting us. Because they killed the janitor and the librarian and they're still out there!"

Melissa reached for him, her hands resting on his shoulders. "Which is exactly why I was scared. Why I wanted you to come home last night. Why not hearing from you made me upset." Her brows raised. "Can you understand that?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay. I just..." She smiled gently. "I want you to be able to talk to me."

"I know I can. I just wasn't thinking last night. Malia was upset and I didn't want to leave her alone."

Melissa cupped his cheek affectionately. "You're a good friend."

"If I was better, she'd be okay."

"Scott, honey, you can't plan for everything. What happened last night was an aberration. It'll never happen again..." She frowned. "Knock on wood."

He snorted. "Yeah."

The doorbell rang then, drawing their attention.

"Are you expecting someone?" Melissa wondered.

"No." Scott frowned. "I'm meeting up with Malia and Stiles later."

"Somewhere well-lit and highly populated, right?"

Scott smiled. "Sure."

The bell rang again.

"I'll get it," he offered, already making his way to the door.

"Ask who it is through the door! Don't just open it," she warned. "It could be anyone!"

Rolling his eyes, Scott pulled the door open, and frowned in surprise. "Uh… hey?"

Danny nodded back, hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket.

Next to him stood a girl with blonde frizzy hair tied in a lopsided bun atop her head. She scowled at him. "Where's Malia?"

Sighing, Danny said, "I was going to ease him into it."

Scott blinked at her and then looked back over his shoulder, checking on his mom quickly. Stepping out onto the porch, he pulled the door closed behind him and faced them once more. "Malia's okay. She hasn't called you yet?"

"No. No calls or texts." Danny shook his head. "When'd you see her last?"

"This morning, at her place. But I think she was planning on checking in on everyone."

"Where she'd go?" Danny pursed his lips. "She didn't come out of the school."

Scott looked between them nervously. "I- I think that's something you need to talk to her about. Look, I'm sorry you guys were so worried. I was, too. But, she's okay. Freaked out and healing, but—"

"Healing?" Danny's eyes narrowed. "So, she was hurt?"

Scott sighed. He was screwing this up. "She was, but she's okay."

Erica didn't look convinced, or particularly comforted. "We came back. After she got us out of the school, she told us to get help, and we did. But we came back for her... and she never walked out of that school." She crossed her arms. "We talked to the police. They haven't seen her either."

Scott stared at them a long beat and then dug into his pocket, thumbing through his contacts for Malia's name. Calling her, he raised the phone to his ear and waited.

It took a few rings, but eventually, her voice reached him. "Hey. It's been like, an hour, don't tell me you're missing me already."

Scott half-smiled. "Always. Look, I've got Danny and..." He turned to the girl curiously.

"Erica," she answered.

"And Erica standing on my porch. They're pretty worried about you."

"Oh. Uh, I'm with Allison right now. I can call them."

Wincing, he rubbed a hand over the nape of his neck. "I think they want visual proof you're okay."

"Should I send a picture holding today's newspaper?"

He bit his lip to hide a grin. "You could always try."

"Tell Danny I'll call him now. We can meet up somewhere in a bit."

"Okay." he nodded. "I will."

"And I still want to get together later. You, me, and Stiles."

"I know. I do, too."

"I gotta go. Give your mom a hug for me."

He rolled his eyes. "Will do."

She paused then, before saying, very quietly, "Love you."

Scott's heart stuttered. "Love you, too."

The phone disconnected then and he cleared his throat. His face felt warm, and obviously so. Shifting around, he faced them once more. Danny's brow was furrowed, some of the hard edges of his worry and suspicion fading. Erica, however, looked no less aggressive in her pursuit to find her friend. Scott could admire that, at least.

"Malia's going to call you." Scott nodded toward Danny. "She, uh, she said she'd meet up with you guys, so you can see for yourself that she's okay."

As if in answer, Danny's phone started buzzing. Pulling it from his pocket, he walked down the porch. "Hey. I thought you'd call sooner, since I'm still holding your Skittles hostage…"

Scott dragged his gaze from Danny and returned it to Erica. "So, how do you know Malia?"

"We're friends." She stared him down. "How'd you know it was Derek?"

Scott blinked. "What?"

"How do you know Derek Hale is the one that attacked the school last night?"

"Where did you hear—?"

"People talk," she dismissed. "It's weird, don't you think? That you're the only one in the school that saw him."

Scott stared at her searchingly. "You were at the video store, weren't you? With Malia, the night that the mountain lion attacked."

Erica flinched. "Yeah. So?"

"I'm sorry."

She frowned. "What?"

"I'm sorry you had to go through that. What happened at the video store was crazy enough, but then the school, too..." He shook his head. "Nobody should have to go through that once, let alone twice."

"Yeah. Well..." She shrugged. "It's whatever."

Danny walked back toward them then, tucking his phone away. "Malia said she'll meet us at the mall food court."

Erica nodded. "Okay. Good."

To Scott, Danny said, "Thanks. And, uh, sorry for ambushing you at your house. We were just worried."

Scott half-grinned. "It's okay. I get it."

While Danny started for his car, Erica lingered.

"Was there something else?" Scott prompted.

She frowned at him. "Malia's a good person."

Scott softened a little. As much as Erica was clearly ready and willing to interrogate him over the strange attack on the school, it came from a good place. And if anyone knew what it was to care about Malia… "I know."

She opened her mouth to say more, but then hesitated, and closed it. Turning abruptly on her heel, she started down the porch.

Scott watched her climb into Danny's car before it backed out of his driveway. He couldn't help but feel like they weren't going to let things go, which meant that everything was just that much more complicated.

---

tbc

---

author's note: i don't know how i feel about this chapter. it's so emotionally driven that it feels very up and down, which i guess is fitting for malia's emotional state, but makes for a bit of a weird read. i don't know. in any case, i loved writing the malia/scott/stiles friendship. and i like that erica's confidence is beginning to show more. malia's struggling, but she's also making plans for what she wants to do. as much as she's confused and worried and doubting herself, she also knows that they need to move forward and do something. starting with finding derek.

things to look forward to next chapter: danny/malia/erica reunion; the search for derek; stiles won't shut up about confessions; bed sharing; and malia finds an anchor. :)

thanks for reading, please leave a review!
- Lee | Fina