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]

26. lunatic 4

word count: 16,420
fashion: due to the recent closing of polyvore, i've moved many of my sets to shoplook but they don't yet have a collection option. i'd suggest checking out this story on ao3 (sarcastic_fina) for direct links to sets for the time being.
episodes: 1x08 - lunatic

---

XXVI.

Danny was hurt. Not a completely unexpected event during lacrosse practice. Stiles was pretty sure most of his own injuries, minor and often self-inflicted as they were, happened during practice. But, it was pretty rare that anyone went after Danny, of all people. Maybe this was Stiles' fault. He should've done something when he realized Scott was getting aggressive. In his defense, getting between a feral werewolf and, well, anything sounded like a terrible idea. Besides, Scott was just enacting a little revenge. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that a few of their teammates weren't exactly happy that Scott had been made co-captain, and they were making sure he knew that. Maybe if Scott was in his right mind, he would've just shrugged the whole thing off. But he wasn't. He was very much in the wrong state of mind. Which resulted in Scott checking the same two players that'd put him on his back and then barreling toward the net, where he slammed his lacrosse stick against Danny's head.

Letting out a hiss of sympathy for the pain he must be going through, Stiles joined the team as they surrounded Danny, sprawled out on the grass, groaning. Thankfully, Danny was wearing a helmet, but Stiles was pretty sure Danny was still seeing cartoon stars.

While Coach Finstock and a paramedic made their way over, Stiles stalked toward Scott, the only one who didn't seem worried. "Dude, what the hell are you doing?"

Panting, Scott said, "What, he's twice the size of me."

"Yeah, but everybody likes Danny." Stiles' brow furrowed. "Now everybody's gonna hate you."

Scott pulled a face and scoffed. "I don't care."

"Okay, well, maybe your wolfy little brain will care that Malia likes Danny. Like, a lot." He stared at him searchingly. "You remember Malia, right? Your anchor? Star-crossed lovers and all that jazz?"

A muscle ticked in Scott's jaw and his eyes narrowed. "Whatever," he muttered, before turning on his heel and walking away.

Stiles watched him go, confused and concerned. Shaking his head, he turned to face the crowd surrounding Danny. Maybe it wasn't too bad. Maybe the team wouldn't completely turn on Scott the second they got the chance. Maybe—

Lydia jogged into view and stopped next to Jackson, her beautiful red hair bouncing at her shoulders. Her expression was twisted up in genuine worry. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah, it looks like he just has a bloody nose—" Jackson paused, his narrowed gaze scrutinizing Lydia a moment.

"What?"

Jackson nodded at her. "Your lipstick."

Blinking rapidly, Lydia dug a hand into her purse and came out with a compact mirror. She checked her lipstick. "Oh." She laughed as she hastily wiped at where it was visibly smeared. "Oh, wonder how that happened."

"Yeah." Jackson's voice was thick with sarcasm. "I wonder."

Realization hit Stiles like a ton of bricks. His heart dropped with a thud— dying a fizzy, screaming death in his stomach acid. Turning away from them, he stared in the direction Scott had gone, his mouth ajar with abject betrayal.

---

…

---

Allison stood in her bedroom, holding a taser gun between two hands, staring down the recently electrified body of her fuzzy-faced childhood best friend. Mr. Bear. Kate stood next to her, hooting and hollering with exhilarated pride. Allison watched curls of smoke leave her teddy bear and felt no satisfaction at all. She'd thought learning some form of self-defence would help, but all she could feel now was distracted and disappointed.

"See, if you would have had that the other night, you would have just—" Seeing Allison's expression, Kate cut herself off. "Whoa, wait a minute. I thought you wanted to learn how to do this, sweetie."

"I did. I do. I'm sorry, my head's just somewhere else." Allison plopped down on the edge of her bed. "Life was totally different before, you know? Every other place we've lived, it's all been so..."

"Boring?" Kate guessed.

Allison nodded. "Ever since we moved here, it feels like it's just one thing after the other. I mean, the mountain lion killing that video store clerk, that was scary from a distance. And seeing it in the parking lot, that was awful. But then the killer chasing us through the school, that was so much worse. And a part of me thinks that it's worth it. Not— God, not the death, but the fear and the anxiety. Because I've made better friends in the last month than I ever have before." She pulled the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands and balled them into fists. "I don't know. I just really thought things were getting better. I had friends and a life and for the first time in a really long time, it felt like I was building a home. But now..."

"Not every high school experience includes an attempted murder."

Allison snorted. "I guess I thought if I felt stronger, maybe it wouldn't affect me as much. Like, if it happens again, at least I'll know I can protect myself. But then I started thinking... What if this is my new normal?"

"Oh, honey..." Kate rubbed her back. "Look, I can't make promises that something like this won't happen again. That's not how life works. But you asked me to help you feel safe, and this is where I started. I know it seems like just one thing, but this taser could bring down just about anyone. You start here and you build up."

"To what though?" Allison stared at her searchingly. "Does my whole life become me trying to be stronger for something that might never come? Or do I let it go and just hope that it was a one-time, freak thing?"

Kate stared at her a long moment, her mouth pursed. She gently brushed Allison's hair back from her face and wondered, "What do you want?"

Taking a deep breath, Allison let it out on a sigh. "I don't know. I wish I did. I just... Everything's been so intense lately. And we're all talking about it, we're all trying to figure out what it means and why it happened, but... I just have so many questions that I feel like nobody has answers to. Like the whole thing with Derek Hale... If he was the one that attacked us, I don't get why. And there's something that's bugging me that I've wanted to say but I don't know who to say it to. It's just, Scott said he didn't know Derek, but I saw them together. And Derek seemed to know him, so—"

"Whoa, hold on. Wait, back up." Kate turned to her, her expression tense. "Scott knows Derek? Alleged killer Derek? Are they friends?"

"No. Not really." Allison shook her head and shrugged. "I mean, Scott said they weren't."

"How about you tell me everything that Scott said about Derek."

Allison rolled her eyes. "What do you mean everything?"

Kate gripped Allison's arm and pulled her in close. "I mean everything."

Completely still, Allison felt a cold chill run down her back. Possibly for the first time ever, her aunt was making her nervous. And she had no idea what that meant.

---

...

---

Derek was thirteen the first time he turned. In the nine years since, it was easy to forget just how difficult those first few full moons were. The sensitive hearing was always the hardest for him; trying to weed out what he didn't need and exert some semblance of control over his senses. His mother used to tell him it was a gift. That the moon let them hear even better than usual so they could prepare for hunters, avoid potential victims, and find each other easily. It was hard to see the upsides with an ever-present headache. Since then, Derek had learned to control his hearing and used it to his benefit whenever possible.

When Malia called, he had the ringer off. He was laying low after a couple cops noticed him and were subtly trying to tail him. By the time he realized Malia had called, it was too late. He'd assumed she was calling to make sure he chained her down for the night. But when he returned her call, there was no answer. He dropped by her house to be sure. It was empty and her scent was old enough that she hadn't been around since the morning. He tried the school next; it was an obvious option. Maybe she'd become overwhelmed and was hunkered down in a bathroom or a storage closet until everybody left. It was well after-hours, but he would still have to be careful. The last thing he needed was anyone seeing him… again.

Luckily, the school was empty. Gouged earth on the lacrosse field said the team had practiced recently. There was the faintest whiff of blood, but not much. More than that, there was aggression. Scott had been there. Possibly the worst time for him to be playing lacrosse was when he was hyped up from the moon. But he was stubborn and the more Derek pushed, the less Scott seemed to bend to him. It was frustrating. He wondered if his parents had similar issues with them.

Derek could remember times when he'd rebelled. Full moons that he wanted to go to school dances or basketball games and his mom shut him down. 'It's not that I don't trust you. But you're still learning. Give yourself room to make mistakes but limit the collateral damage they could cost.' He hadn't understood it then. He was quick to think he was grown, that he knew everything, that he could control himself. But the moon was as much their enemy as it was their friend. And even nine years later, he still occasionally struggled with how moody and aggressive it could make him. It didn't help that he was already struggling. With grief and anger and every other feeling that stemmed from them. That made him a threat. He knew that, logically. But he was stubborn too.

Sneaking into the school, Derek took a look around. The collection of smells inside made his nose wrinkle. It was pungent. There were so many, it was difficult to pick apart any individual scents. Often, shifters smelled differently. There was something earthier about their scent. His father smelled like the forest after it rained, fresh and clean and alive. Ben smelled like aloe, a medicinal sting to the nose. Adrienne and Gabriella were camp fire smoke— it left a sour taste in Derek's mouth now, but when they'd been alive, it was warm and comforting. Lucas was cold, damp earth, full of potential. Vale was the sun; like air almost too hot to breathe. Cora was the trees; pine needles and moss. Laura and Talia smelled so much alike that sometimes Derek couldn't tell them apart. They were everything, a collection of it all; dew on grass and smoke curling on wood, new earth and fresh rain. When his mother was angry, he swore she smelled like a lightning storm. There was a time when he wouldn't know what that smelled like. To a human, it was just rain, and lightning was just a distant crack across the sky. But Derek knew. And he missed it. Sometimes, a storm would rage across the sky and he would stand in it, soaked to the bone, breathing in as deeply as he could, trying to remember a mother he loved, a mother he failed, a mother who should be angry at him for all the he'd done.

Malia didn't smell like that. There was rage and hurt and fear in her, but she didn't smell like lightning or a storm or fire or earth.

She smelled like citrus; the crack of an orange peel, sweet and sour.

He caught her scent in a distinct place in the hallway. Not because it stood out beyond the rest. But because she'd left a chemosignal that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Heartache had a distinct smell. After Paige died, Lucas told Derek that he smelled like the kind of rain that drowned whole cities. A torrential rain that was sweeping him far out of reach. Sometimes he wished it had. Maybe then he wouldn't have made the mistakes he did later.

Derek left the school and returned to the woods. If Malia was breaking down, she would go somewhere familiar. Not home, she wouldn't want to risk her dad. But if she was going to turn into the coyote, maybe she thought the woods would keep her from hurting people.

He called her phone and wasn't surprised when it rang through to voice mail again. He wasn't expecting her to pick up. Instead, he tried to hear her ringtone. He was expecting something simple and generic. Instead, very distantly, he heard the strains of Bon Iver's 'The Wolves.' Because of course she picked a song with 'wolves' in the title.

'Someday my pain, someday my pain will mark you. Harness your blame, harness your blame, and walk through with the wild wolves around you...'

Focusing on which direction it was coming from, he took off at a jog. It took some time and he had to call her multiple times, but eventually... he found it.

Malia wasn't there, but her bag, jacket and shredded clothing were left in a heap next to a creek. Crouching down, he picked up her phone. The front screen showed a number of missed calls from him, Stiles, and Allison. Grabbing up her bag and jacket, he sighed. Well, this wasn't good. She'd obviously shifted and he was going to have to track her down. The sooner he found her, the sooner he could get her somewhere safe.

Looking up through the trees to the sky above, he could see the sun was setting. Which meant he was already running out of time. The more the moon influenced her, the less Malia had control of the coyote. No doubt, with all the chaos of late, the Argents would be out looking for someone to put down. He wasn't sure what to expect of Malia in her coyote state. She'd recognized him last time, even helped him, but there was no telling what the coyote might do if she was faced with hunters. Her instinct might be to attack.

He couldn't risk that.

---

…

---

After leaving lacrosse practice early, Scott made his way home, climbing the porch roof and crawling in through his window to avoid his mom. On a regular day, her presence might comfort him. Today, a warning voice told him it was best to keep his distance. Taking a seat in the armchair tucked in the corner of his room, he focused on his breathing, on filling his lungs to their absolute limits and then letting it all out through his nose in measured exhales. But the longer he sat, the more time that passed, the less present he felt. It started to feel like he was outside of his body, not completely in control of anything.

Scott knew the exact moment that Stiles arrived. He heard the jeep coming up the drive and listened to Stiles' footsteps cross the yard and skip up the steps. Then the metallic sound of the key turning the lock and the gentle whine of hinges. And finally, the smell of Stiles' familiar, cheap cologne hit him, wafting up the stairs.

"Scott?" his mother called out, moving around on the lower floor.

"Stiles," Stiles corrected, his voice light and awkward.

Melissa laughed blandly. "Key!"

"Yeah. I had one made, so—"

"That doesn't surprise me… It scares me, but it doesn't surprise me."

Thump.

"What is that?" Melissa wondered.

"Uh, school project."

Melissa hummed. "Stiles… He's okay, right?"

"Who? Scott?" Stiles' heartrate picked up and his voice went high. "Yeah. Totally."

"He just doesn't talk to me that much anymore, not like he used to."

Melissa's scent, once warm with a hint of antiseptic, was different now. It became thick with... worry, sorrow and regret. If Scott were thinking straight, he might've felt ashamed at his recent behaviour, at whatever he'd done to make his mother feel like they were growing apart. Instead, all he wanted was for her to leave. Her and Stiles both.

"Well, he's had a bit of a rough week," Stiles said.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Okay." Melissa dug around in her purse for her keys. "Be careful tonight."

"You, too."

"Full moon."

Stiles' heartrate picked up, loud enough now that it made Scott flinch. "What!?" Stiles cried.

"There's a full moon tonight," Melissa explained. "You should see how the ER gets. Brings out all the nut jobs."

"Oh." Stiles laughed awkwardly. "Right."

"You know, it's actually where they came up with the word 'lunatic.'" The door opened and clicked shut then. Scott listened to her exiting footsteps and the growl of the car starting outside. The farther away she got, the better.

When he refocused inside, Stiles was climbing the stairs and walking down the hall, until—

Scott's bedroom door swung open and the light turned on, flooding the room. Stiles' gaze landed on him, tucked quiet and unseen in the corner.

"Oh, my God! Dude. You scared the hell out of me. Your mom said you weren't home yet." He tossed the bag down to the floor with a distinct thunk.

Scott stared at him. "I came in through the window."

"Okay…" Stiles crouched down in front of the bag. "Uh, well, let's get this set up. I want you to see what I brought."

"I'm fine." Scott knew his voice was vacant and strange. In a way, it felt like he was speaking through a fog. Like there was a disconnect between his brain and his body. "I'm just gonna lock the door and go to bed early tonight."

"You sure about that? 'Cause you've got this kinda—" Stiles made animated motions at his own face. "—serial killer look going on in your eyes, and I'm hoping it's the full moon taking effect, 'cause it's really starting to freak me out."

"I'm fine." Scott's voice changed, layered with something unnatural. "You should go now."

Stiles paused and looked away. "All right, I'll leave."

He was scrawny, thin limbed and weak— Scott couldn't help but think about how easy it would be to tear him apart. Chasing him would be fun and easy. He wouldn't make it far, not unless Scott paced himself, let him think he had a lead. But Stiles was smart. He would make it interesting. A game of sorts.

With a sigh, Stiles sat back and waved his arms around. "Well, look, would you at least look in the bag and see what I brought? You know, maybe you use it, maybe you don't. Sound good?"

There was a pungent odor then; fear. Scott liked that smell. He was owed that smell. For all that he did, all that he was; it would be disrespectful if this human wasn't at least a little scared.

Slowly, Scott pushed himself up from the chair, unfurling, looming over Stiles a moment. As he walked forward, Stiles leaned back. Deference to a superior predator. Scott knelt down and reached inside the unzipped bag. His hand folded around a thick chain and his teeth ground together. He lifted it up and felt an offended fury grow inside his chest. "You think I'm gonna let you put these on me? Chain me up like a dog?"

"Actually, no." Stiles lunged at Scott, caught his arm, and yanked him to the side. Metal wrapped around Scott's wrist and, before he knew it, he was handcuffed to the radiator.

As Stiles scrambled away, Scott pulled at his bound wrist, and yelled, "What the hell are you doing?"

Stiles stood a safe distance away. The fear of before was still there, but it was muted. Underneath it was the scent of pride and triumph. "Protecting you from yourself and giving you some payback—"

Scott stared up at him from angry, narrowed eyes.

"—for making out with Lydia."

Scott could have laughed at him, if he weren't so annoyed. He should have smelled Stiles' anger, but it was hidden. Secondary to everything else he'd been feeling. But not now; now, it was on full display. Hadn't he just thought Stiles was smart? It seemed he was braver than Scott gave him credit. Scott wouldn't make the same mistake twice. He wouldn't underestimate Stiles again.

---

…

---

An hour later, Derek was having trouble figuring out which way Malia was coming or going. Her scent was crossing itself, meaning she was making trips back and forth—

It dawned on him abruptly.

Derek made his way back to her house. Henry's truck wasn't parked outside, but the front door was wide open. There were scratch marks against the wood. She'd let herself inside, leaving tiny foot prints on the carpet as she went. As Derek made his way down the hall, he paused. There were marks on the door to Kylie's room, but the door itself hadn't been opened. Malia's, however, had. The closet had been raided and so had the bed. Clothing was hanging lopsided from hangers, some of it pooled on the floor. She'd come looking for something familiar and taken it with her.

She had also left something behind. Or, more aptly, someone.

Shiloh was under the bed, her nose poked out from beneath a blanket, clearly sniffing the air to see if he was friend or foe.

Crouching down, Derek whistled to call the dog out.

Wiggling around, Shiloh popped her head out. She gave him a look over before deciding he was an ally. Crawling out, her tail wagged as she made her way over, leaning against his knee as he pet her.

Derek took it as a positive sign that the coyote hadn't hurt the dog. She clearly recognized that Shiloh was Malia's and not to be hurt, which meant the coyote had some reasoning skills. Which meant she might recognize him when he inevitably tracked her down, too. Recognizing him didn't mean sparing him, however. If she was adamant that she didn't want to turn back, she might decide he made a better enemy than a friend.

Giving Shiloh a few more pats, he stood. Henry could get home at any moment and he needed to get back on Malia's trail. Given what she'd taken and her frequent trips back and forth, he had an idea that she was building a den. She obviously wanted it to be something Malia liked too, so she'd brought some creature comforts along with her. When Laura had first shifted, she said it was all instinct. That the wolf felt like its own distinct personality at first but, over time, she bonded with her wolf until it became a partner and, eventually, just a part of her.

Making his way outside, Derek closed the door behind him to keep Shiloh in and hopefully avoid any suspicion on Henry's part. As Derek was walking down the porch stairs, he heard it.

A howl.

Not pained or angry, no. Taunting.

The coyote was calling out to the Alpha. And she wanted a fight.

---

…

---

Her den was finished. She'd filled it with things Lia would like. Soft things that smelled like her. Things that made her happy. Not things that she needed, but things that Lia would want around her. Humans were sentimental. They liked soft things. Things that smelled like pack, old and new. She almost brought the dog, but it was injured. Its leg was broken. In that way, it was weak. If it were wild, she would kill it and eat it. But Lia liked the dog. So, it would live. In the house, where it was safe.

She tried to wait. The sun had set and the moon had taken its place. But it was too soon. Only when she was sure the Alpha was out there would she make her move. She would lure him out into the open and then she would strike. She would show the alpha its true place on the food chain— under her teeth.

There was another scent in the woods. A familiar one. A wolf...

Derek.

Was he looking for her? Did he want to turn her back?

No. No. NO!

She wouldn't let him.

This was her night. Her chance to prove herself to Lia.

He couldn't take that from her!

It was a mixture of anticipation, irritation, and impatience that had her howling, calling to the Alpha wolf, baiting him. She was running out of time. She had to strike before the others came. Before they tried to bring Lia back again.

---

…

---

After Allison's nerve-wracking conversation with Kate, going to the mall was both an attempt at feeling normal and to find another way to protect herself. As much as the taser had clearly worked against her defenseless teddy bear, it hadn't felt like a good fit. Which was why she had her dad drop her off at the mall, so she could raid the sporting supplies store for something more her style. She'd considered having him or Kate drop her off at Malia's, just to check in, but Malia said she would text if she wanted company. She hadn't yet. A fact that weighed heavy in her stomach.

Walking through the store, hands tucked in the pockets of her jacket, Allison kept going over the intense expression Kate had worn when Allison explained the little Scott had told her about Derek. The same Derek that had given her a ride home after her and Scott's first, and obviously terrible, date. She understood Kate's wariness— Derek was suspect number one when it came to the strange killing spree at the school. But there was still something off about the whole situation…

Pausing near a collection of arrows, Allison smiled. Now, this was more like her. She had a bow at home; the same one she'd used in competitions in the past. But lately, she was feeling like she'd outgrown it. Like maybe she needed something bigger or stronger or just different. While she was fiddling around with a scope, she spotted a familiar face across the store and wasn't sure how to feel. Jackson stood in her direct line of sight. She couldn't exactly pretend she hadn't seen him, but she wasn't sure she wanted to invite his company.

Brows hiked, he started toward her. "Hey."

"Hi." Allison put the scope down and fiddled with her sleeves. A few hours ago, she'd seen his girlfriend— her friend— kissing Scott. Obviously, Allison owed no loyalty to Jackson. She wouldn't even really call them friends. They were… moderately friendly. They kind of had to be, considering how much time she spent with Lydia. But, Malia wasn't his biggest fan. All right, that was an understatement. And it was hard to look at Jackson and not see how… cruel and dismissive he could be to other people.

"What are you doing here?" Jackson wondered.

"Uh, I was just thinking I might get back into something I haven't done for a while. What about you?"

"Oh, uh—" He held up a lacrosse helmet. "—for Danny. McCall bashed him pretty hard on the field."

Allison's brows hiked. "Really? That doesn't sound like him…" Then again, what happened with Lydia wasn't like Scott either.

"Yeah." Jackson snorted, his mouth twisted up. "Well, you'd know him better than me, right?"

She frowned. "What?"

"I mean, you two are dating, aren't you? Or is that him and Tate? I can never really tell… They were looking pretty cozy on Saturday, but…" He paused and his gaze darted away. A shadow fell across his expression, and it spoke volumes.

Allison felt a weight fill her stomach. "You know."

He looked back at her, his brow furrowed, and then realization dawned. "So do you." He shook his head. "You don't look too pissed."

"Not for the same reasons you would be." Allison took a deep breath and sighed. "I'm sorry, for what it's worth. I can't apologize for him, or her, but… I know you and Lydia have been together a while and it must hurt, so…"

"Yeah." He smiled emptily. "You could say that."

Allison shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "If it's any consolation, I don't think it meant anything. I mean, I don't know why Scott did it, but… I don't think it'll go anywhere. And Lydia, I think she's just feeling ignored lately. Not that it's your fault, but—"

Jackson's expression grew tense. "Are you sure? Because it kind of sounds like you're saying it is."

Allison winced. "I didn't mean that. I just meant that I know Lydia. And she doesn't talk about it a lot, but I know she's been worried that you were pulling away."

"So, that's an excuse to kiss McCall?"

"No, of course not." Allison took a deep breath. "Look, I'm the wrong person to talk to about this. And like I said, I don't know why it happened. I can only guess."

"Yeah." Jackson pursed his lips. "I wouldn't go into couples counselling any time soon."

Allison felt a flush of embarrassment fill her face. "Duly noted."

As Jackson stalked past her toward the till, Allison turned to watch him leave. She sighed, not entirely sure it was it was in relief to be rid of him or at herself for making things that much worse.

---

…

---

A rattling noise caught Scott's attention. He looked up and found Stiles standing nearby. He had a bowl with Scott's name written in black tape, and a bottle of water. "I brought you some water." Smirking, smug over his joke, Stiles filled the bowl and placed it on the floor, just in reach.

Scott stared at the bowl, vibrating with anger. He picked it up and threw it at Stiles' retreating back. "I'm gonna kill you!"

Stiles paused in the doorway, his shoulders hunched. A beat passed before he whipped around and glared. "You kissed her, Scott, okay? You kissed Lydia. That's, like, the one girl that I ev— And, you know, the past three hours, I've been thinking, it's probably just the full moon, you know? He doesn't even know what he's doing, and tomorrow, he'll be totally back to normal. He probably won't even remember what a complete dumbass he's been. A son of a bitch, a freaking unbelievable piece of crap friend!"

Scott looked up at him slowly, a cruel smile pulling up the corner of his mouth. "She kissed me."

Stiles stared down at him. "What?"

"I didn't kiss her. She kissed me."

Stiles' teeth snapped shut and he shook his head. Turning on his heel, he walked out the door and around the corner, falling back against the wall.

Scott stared at the doorway where he could see a sliver of Stiles' sleeve peeking out. There was something inside him, something hard and edged with cruelty, that just wanted to lash out, to hurt the person keeping him captive. And if he couldn't do it physically— if he couldn't tear him limb from limb— then he would do it in other ways. The only way he had at the moment. The sweet scent of Stiles turmoil, his hurt and his betrayal, smelled sweet on the air.

With every word, that pain ratcheted up, and Scott felt some tiny semblance of satisfaction, even as he pulled and tugged at his bound wrist to no avail. "She would have done a lot more, too," he called out. "You should have seen the way she had her hands all over me. She would have done anything I wanted."

Stiles slid down to sit on the floor.

Scott's voice echoed as he shouted, "Anything!"

---

…

---

"Stupid," Allison muttered.

Walking out of the sporting goods store, she stared at her phone, the battery dead and the screen blank. Just as she turned around, hoping she might be able to use the phone inside, she watched one of the workers flip the 'Open' sign to 'Closed' and turn the lock on the door. Come on… Her dad was going to kill her if she tried to walk home, but that was pretty much her only option at this point.

The sound of muted music suddenly caught her attention and she turned around to see a sleek car pull up in front of her. Panic swelled her chest and she took a step back from the curb. The music cut out and the window lowered. Allison felt her heart hammering in her chest. And then—

Cole leaned into view. "Hey! Everything okay?"

"Oh, uh, y-yeah," she stuttered. Relief and embarrassment flooded her. "Totally fine."

He stared at her a moment. "Are you sure?"

Allison chewed her lip. She glanced at her dead phone and then to the mostly empty parking lot. "Actually… Would you be able to give me a ride home?"

Cole half-smiled. "Jump in."

Circling the front of the car, Allison pulled open the passenger door and hopped inside. "Thanks for this. I was supposed to call my dad, but my phone died. I didn't realize how long I'd be here."

"It's fine. It's good timing. I just finished work." He pointed ahead. "I have no idea where I'm going though."

"Oh. Duh." She laughed at herself before rattling off her address.

As the car pulled forward and out of the parking lot, she sunk back into her seat and stared out the window. The only real time she'd spent with Cole was during that weird group date at the bowling alley. She'd seen him in passing and heard Malia say only nice things about him, but they'd never really attempted to talk to each other outside of that.

As the same time, they said, "So, where—" and "Are you—"

Laughing, they shook their heads. "You first," he offered.

"Oh, I was just going to ask where you worked."

Cole winced. "Don't laugh, but I have a part-time job at a fabric store. It was the only place hiring at the time and… I'm a hit with the older ladies."

Allison giggled. "Seriously?"

"Completely. It could be worse, but it's not something I advertise either. It pays okay and sometimes a customer will make me a shirt or something. Last Christmas, I got a whole suit. Fits pretty good, too."

She grinned. "Perks of the job."

"Exactly."

She chewed on the edge of her thumbnail. "Um, what were you going to say?"

"I can't remember. Probably something boring and polite." Cole shrugged. "We don't really know each other and I think the only common friend we have is Malia…"

She nodded. "We both know Jackson."

"I wouldn't call Jackson a friend, exactly. Danny, sure. But Jackson's more of a friendly rival."

"Makes sense." Allison shifted around in her seat. "So, you and Malia, you're friends now? I guess? She said you were working on that, anyway."

"Yeah." Cole half-smiled. "As much as we can when we don't really hang out." He paused. "Actually, I think I might've screwed up last Saturday…"

"Really? How?"

"I just… I said something to Scott that I realized later might not've sounded the way I meant it to." He sighed. "I said we were working things out and I think Scott thought maybe I meant as a couple, when I just meant we were trying to be friends now. I guess I figured she'd already explained everything to him. But he got really quiet and took off… I don't know him too well, so I thought maybe I'd try to talk to him again at school, try to explain things. But, I'm not sure he likes me, so…"

Allison nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "I get it. Scott and Malia are… complicated."

"Yeah." Cole snorted. "I've picked up on that."

She took a deep breath and then turned to face him better. "Actually… Do you think you could drive me out to her place? She's kind of having an awful day and… I just want to check in on her. I know it's out of the way and you're already doing me a favor, but—"

"It's fine." Cole nodded. "I don't mind."

"Are you sure?" Her brow furrowed. "I don't want to put you out."

"Allison…" He grinned and, for a moment, Allison could totally see why Malia made out with him so soon after meeting him. There was just something genuine and warm about Cole. "I'm offering. Okay?"

She nodded. "Okay."

"Great." Slowing the car down, he made a U-turn and then grabbed his iPod up from where it was tucked in the cup holder. He handed it to her and said, "You get to play DJ for the ride."

Smiling, Allison sat back and scrolled through his music list. "Britney Spears?"

"Toxic is a classic."

"All right." Allison pushed 'play' and grinned.

---

…

---

Scott's wrist was a bruised and blotchy reddish-purple, blood leaking out of open sores. He wouldn't stop pulling and tugging at his arm. The logical part of his brain urged him to stop, but he couldn't. He felt stuck, caged, like the walls were closing in around him. But the metal cuff wouldn't give and the radiator wouldn't be moved. He groaned, kicking his legs back and forth, and turned an anguished look on the open doorway. He knew Stiles was out there. He could smell and hear him— his racing heart and the panicked sweat of indecision.

"Stiles, please let me out…" He was panting— every breath felt more difficult. His mouth was dry, tongue stuck to the roof, and every swallow felt like sandpaper. "It's the full moon, I swear. You know I wouldn't do any of this on purpose. Stiles, you know I love Malia. Lydia was… I— I don't know. It was this weird impulse. It was the moon, the wolf, not me."

Scott crouched down, his stomach churning and his skin stretched too tight. He turned a glare on the door and ground his teeth together, see-sawing between desperation and rage. "Please, Stiles, let me out. It's starting to hurt. It's not like the first time. It's the full moon. It's Malia avoiding me. I know— I know she hates me. I know she can't stand to be around me. I know I screwed this up. With you and with her. And it's killing me. I feel completely hopeless. Just, please, let me out."

It was quiet and distant, but Scott could hear Stiles' muttered, "I can't."

Two simple words, but they made him want to wring Stiles' skinny little neck.

The clouds parted outside the window, however, and Scott's attention turned upward. He watched helplessly as the glow of the moon crawled through his window and across his leg. He struggled to get away from it, yanking at his arm. "No, no, no!" An intense wave of pain flooded his body. He threw his head back, letting out an agonized yell as his teeth elongated and his eyes glowed an eerie yellow.

The more he struggled, the more it hurt.

All he wanted was just a moment of relief. A moment to breathe. A part of him was ready to chew his own arm off to get it. He needed out. He needed to be free. He needed—

The moon was so bright. It felt warm against his face. Beckoning. Calling. Demanding.

His vision turned blood-red.

Outside, he heard a howl.

Scott cocked his head and bared his teeth.

Looking down, he stared at his bloody wrist and the metal that kept him confined. He pulled, but it would not give. And then, he got an idea. Taking a deep breath, Scott reached down and dislocated his thumb. It hurt like hell, but yelling wasn't anything new at this point, so Stiles didn't seem to notice. Then, he used the blood to make it easier for the cuff to slide against his skin and, with a little effort— he was free!

Without giving it much thought, Scott left his bedroom, the handcuffs, and Stiles behind. He leapt from the window and landed in a crouch. He lurched toward the woods with a mission in mind.

---

...

---

Finding Scott was a matter of strategy. While Derek was fairly sure he could track Malia, turning her back was the real issue. The only one he knew could do that was Scott. Even if he had an idea that Scott was the cause of her heartbreak earlier, Scott still connected to Malia on a level Derek couldn't.

He went to Scott's house, figuring that he and Stiles were trying to ride the moon out somewhere familiar. When he arrived, it was clear they had been there recently. It was also clear they weren't there any longer. Stiles' jeep had taken off abruptly, shown by the deep divots the tires had left behind in the dirt. And Scott... His chemosignals were leaving behind signs of anger and aggression. Which meant that not only did Derek have a werecoyote taunting an alpha wolf, he also had a beta wolf looking to cause some havoc.

Rubbing his hands over his face, Derek paced.

Malia was in the woods. To some degree, she was safer. Maybe the Alpha never showed, or maybe it didn't answer her call, considering the chunk she'd taken out of it last time… In any case, she was farther away from people, which meant she also couldn't hurt them. On the other hand, Scott was looking for blood and much closer to town. He was also the key to getting Malia under control.

Gritting his teeth, Derek focused in on Scott's scent. He would find him, knock some sense into him, and, together, they would find Malia before she got herself into a fight he wasn't sure she could win.

---

…

---

It wasn't long before Scott found himself standing beside Malia's house. The lights were out, but she'd been there. He could smell her scent, distant but familiar. He circled around, eager to go inside. Her scent would be stronger in her bedroom. On her pillows and her blanket. In the same bed he'd laid next to her in. The warmth of body soaking into his; her hands gripping his, fingers woven together; her heartbeat loud in his ears…

A flood of calm started to fill Scott up from his toes until—

Headlights.

They flashed across the driveway and then climbed the front of the house before cutting out.

Scott edged toward the corner and peeked around. He peered out through the dark until he saw him— Cole.

A growl crawled up from Scott's belly and rattled his throat. His hand curled around the corner of the house, claws dug into the wood. His lip curled in a snarl as he stared at Cole through the porch railings, completely at ease behind the wheel, head tipped back as he laughed.

Scott's mind flashed back to Saturday, to the party, to Malia and Cole, laughing and dancing. An unearthly rage swallowed him up. Before he knew it, he'd crossed the driveway at a lumbering run and leapt on top of Cole's flashy car. He could hear heartbeats ratcheting up in fear and smell the stinging scent of anxiety. Scott reared his arm back, ready to tear through the roof of the car and, hopefully, right through Cole's neck. But before he could strike, something slammed into his body and dragged him off the roof.

He landed on his back with a thud. Before he could get his bearings, he was picked up and thrown through the air. He was lucky he didn't hit any trees on the way down, but the ground was still unforgiving. As he rolled to a stop, his back lit up with pain from landing on jagged rocks and debris. He pushed himself up onto his feet, crouched down and bared his teeth. His gaze searched for his attacker— was it the Alpha? Malia? A hunter?

Derek stepped into view, looking much more wolfish than usual. He stalked toward Scott with purpose and snapped his teeth, ready for a fight.

Scott pushed off the ground and leapt at him, his arms outstretched, claws eager.

Derek caught him by the wrist, yanked him forward, and ducked around to grab him from behind. His arm banded over Scott's chest while he held his bent arm behind his back. "Scott!"

Struggling to get free, Scott pulled himself forward. Derek let go and Scott stumbled ahead, falling against a tree. He used it to push off of and lurched for Derek again. He lunged at him, only to have Derek crouch low enough that Scott went right over his head and was forced to roll across the ground. As he got back up, Derek turned around to face him once more.

Scott attacked, swinging wildly and missing each time. Frustration built up inside, pushing him to attack faster, to be more brutal, to kill, kill, KILL.

Derek kicked at him, sending him to the ground again.

Scott hammered the forest floor with his fists before he pushed up and tried again.

This time, when Scott swung, Derek grabbed his wrist in mid-air before reaching down, grabbing Scott's belt, and lifting him up over his head. He body-slammed Scott to the ground and then gripped the front of Scott's jacket, pinning him down as he leaned forward and roared into his face.

The red hue of Scott's gaze disappeared. The rage and anger of before vanished, leaving only panic in its wake. Scott scrambled away, coming to a stop when his back reached a tree. He stared up at Derek from scared, confused eyes.

Standing, Derek panted, but as he walked forward, any sign that he was a werewolf melted away, and he was left looking human once more. It was the kind of self-control Scott could only envy.

Scott raised his hands and stared at the jagged, yellow claws tipping his fingers. He looked away, ashamed, and wondered, "What's happening to me?"

"Exactly what the Alpha wants to happen."

"What the hell does that mean?" Scott snarled defiantly.

Derek rolled his eyes. "You almost killed that kid. Not to mention Argent's daughter."

"Allison?" Scott's brow furrowed. "She was there?"

"You didn't see her?"

"I… I remember Cole. I saw him and it was like… all I wanted to do was kill him. I couldn't think straight. I just knew that I didn't want him here. I didn't want him near Malia."

"You were jealous," Derek said flatly.

"No. That's not it. I was…" Scott wasn't sure what he was. But jealous didn't seem to cut it. "Look, all day I've been struggling with this, doing things I wouldn't usually do. I hate it."

"That's because you're still learning."

"Learning what? How to destroy relationships? Friendships? How to hurt the people that matter to me the most?" Scott shook his head and fell back against the tree. "I don't want this!"

"Too bad."

Scott looked up and scowled at Derek. "That's it? That's your pep talk?"

"I'm not giving you a pep talk." Derek crossed his arms and stared him down. "Look, Scott, you're a good person. Under all the whining."

"I'm not whining," he muttered.

"You are. If you weren't, you'd be doing something."

"Something like what?" Scott shrugged his shoulders high. "A few minutes ago, all I wanted to do was rip your head off. I still kind of want to and I'm not even sure that's the moon talking."

"You're probably not the only one that feels that way." Derek turned a thoughtful look out to the woods. "Malia turned. She's running around out there and we need to find her."

Scott's stomach bottomed out. "What?"

"She made a den and I was tracking her, but then she called out to the Alpha."

"She what?" Scott's eyes widened as he hurried to push himself up, even as his knees wobbled beneath him. "When? How long ago?"

"Too long." Derek grimaced. "We need to find her. She's strong, but she's young. She's new to this. The coyote will be eager to prove herself, to show Malia what she can do. But it's going to take a lot more than one shifter to take the Alpha out. Which means we have to find her and either save her or stop her from doing something crazy."

Scott nodded. "How do we do that?"

Derek took a deep breath. "Pretend I'm not here. How would you find Malia on your own?"

Scott frowned and gave it some thought. "I guess… I'd follow her scent." He nodded to himself. "Yeah, when me and Stiles were looking for her, I just followed the wildflowers, it took us a while, but we found her."

"Then we do that."

"What do we do when we find her?"

"You convince her to turn back."

"Me?" Scott's voice came out an unsure squeak. "But she hates me right now."

"She doesn't hate you." Clearly exasperated, Derek turned on his heel and walked deeper into the woods, leaving Scott with only one option—follow him.

"She does!" Scott hurried to chase after him. "I messed up on Saturday and now she can barely look at me."

"Well, you're going to have to get over that, because she needs you." Derek marched ahead, certain of the direction he was going. Maybe he was familiar with her scent too. The idea left a leaden feeling in Scott's chest.

"Why can't you turn her back?"

Derek sighed. "You're the only one who's been successful so far. You calm her down."

"Stiles helped. And… she hates me right now." Scott's mouth twisted up. "She'll run as soon as she sees me."

"Then we chase her. She has a life she needs to get back to. She won't want to be stuck as the coyote forever." Derek climbed over a log and looked back at him. "Bury the guilt and deal with it later. Right now, we have bigger things to deal with."

Scott inhaled deeply and let it out on a weighty sigh. "What if I can't do it?"

Derek paused his steps and turned around. "Scott… Is Malia your best friend?"

"Yes."

"Do you love her?"

His heart thumped. "Yes."

"Then you'll do it. Because there's no other option here." Derek's brows arched. "She's out there right now, on a mission to kill an Alpha that won't hesitate to put her down. Either we bring her back, or we bury her."

Scott's mouth snapped shut, his teeth clacking together.

The idea that Malia might be out there, hurt or dying, left an emptiness inside of Scott he had never felt before. A cold dawning that the last time they spoke was in the hallway with so little space between their bodies and a gulf of distance separating them far beyond that. The last thing he'd said was her name— a plea, a hope, unanswered.

She deserved better. Not just from him, but in general. Her life was only just beginning. She was making new friends and mending her relationship with her dad. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

"So, which one is it? Because I don't have a shovel."

Scott blinked back into the present and frowned. "I'll bring her back." He shook his head. "Letting her die was never an option."

Derek stared at him a beat. "Good." He turned around. "Let's go."

---

…

---

The Alpha was coming.

She could hear the sound of his too-large body crashing through the woods, trees and foliage crushed beneath his paws. RunRunRun. He was chasing her, following the scent she was leaving behind. She was faster. Leaner and quicker. She moved with an agility he would never know. But she paced herself, luring him closer, letting him think he was close to running her down.

Stupid wolf.

She could smell his arrogance, his ego, his pride.

She ran into a clearing and slowed to a stop. Turning on her heel, she lowered her head and waited.

He broke through the trees, ground trembling all around him, and stood as tall as he could. His hulking body bathed in the moonlight, arms out, claws ready to gouge and tear and KILLKILLKILL.

She snapped her teeth and growled at him, showing him no ounce of fear.

The Alpha charged.

She let him get close and then darted to the left. He was too big, too lumbering, to stop himself immediately. He stumbled as she circled around him. She bit at his ankles, teeth scraping against leathery skin. He threw his head back and let out a pain growl. She leapt away, bouncing back on her hind legs, jumping and circling with anticipation. Her heart was racing, fluttering against her ribs, eager to play and fight and win.

Turning around, he ran for her again. He swiped at her with his long arms, lethal claws searching for soft flesh.

She ducked and dodged him, arching her legs back and catching his forearm with her claws. She pushed off him and landed in the dirt once more. She danced on her tiptoes, her chest aflame with pride. He thought she'd be easy to kill. Small and unskilled. But she would show him. She would show her pack and the wolf, she would show Lia, that she was no easy target. She would—

Something hit her hard in the side and she went flying through the air. She hit the ground roughly and rolled to a stop. She lost her breath for a moment, her body seizing up as it flooded with pain. A stump lay a few feet away. He must have thrown it at her.

Her vision swam for a moment and she felt her— Lia— clawing at her from the inside. 'Run! Get away from him! Get up!'

She shook her head, her ears pressed back. The Alpha was crouching down, sniffing at the air. Could he smell her pain? Her wounded pride? The strike of fear that had hit her without warning?

She turned herself over, pawing at the ground to get her legs under her, and pushed up. Her legs wobbled and her stomach churned. Careful. She watched him, still now, calculated, his red-eyes focused on her, searching for weakness. She tilted her chin down and stared back defiantly.

He ran forward, gouging the earth with his claws, and leapt through the air. She ran too— forward. She ducked under him and swung back around. As he landed, she leapt onto his back. She lunged for the back of his neck and bit down. He howled in pain, his arms wind-milling at his sides. She dug her claws in to hold herself steady. He tried to reach for her, but she twisted and turned so he couldn't quite grab her. She bit down harder and felt skin and sinew tear under her teeth. Blood filled her mouth, poured down her chin, and wet her chest like a blaze of honor.

She would win. She would chew right through his neck if she had to. She would hang his head from a tree to warn the other wolves, to keep them at bay. No Alpha would walk her land again. He would stand as proof that this was her home, her territory.

Suddenly, the world was a blur around her. She felt air whoosh at her back, and then—

PAIN

He slammed his back against a tree and, with it, her. Over and over, until finally, she let go. She fell to the ground in a heap, out of breath and in pain.

Get up.

GET UP!

But she couldn't. It hurt too much. Her lungs stung with every laboured inhale.

Her paws twitched as she struggled to move, to turn over, to get her feet under her.

'He's coming,' Lia told her. 'Get up and find cover. Run away, damn it!'

No.

Only cowards run.

She could feel Lia pacing angrily. 'Survivor's run. Do you want to run, or do you want to die? How much is your pride worth?'

It wasn't that simple. She had to prove herself. This was her chance. This was—

The Alpha leaned over her, his teeth bared, saliva dripping. He picked her up and threw her.

She could do nothing but fly limp through the air and land gracelessly, rolling across hard and uneven ground. Wheezing, she stared up at the moonlit sky, mocking her for her hubris.

The Alpha stepped into view once more, ripe with the stench of his triumph. Glorying in his superiority.

She sneered up at him, drawing her lips back from her teeth, even as they trembled, as every muscle in her body screamed with exhaustion.

The Alpha raised an arm above his head, his claws lethally sharp.

And she stared into those red eyes, unwilling to die fearfully. He was the invader. The interloper. The colonizer. This was her home. HERS.

Just as he was about to bring his arm down— voices.

A collection of them. And not only that, but sirens too. The static of a radio— 'Body has been located. Searching the area for any other victims. Over.' She could even see flashlights bouncing across the trees.

The Alpha spooked. He took one last threatening look at her and then leapt away, lurching for the trees.

She breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived.

Humans were close. They may have been her salvation momentarily, but they had guns too. They might shoot an injured coyote just to save themselves any hassle.

She needed to return to her den; to safety and familiarity. Where she could gather her strength and plan.

Plan, plan, plan.

She would be better next time. Smarter and faster. She would not let her ego get in the way. She would kill the Alpha if it was the last thing she did.

---

…

---

"So…" Scott kicked a stray stick out of his way. "You've been tracking her for a while, right?"

Derek nodded.

"Then you know her scent. Which means you only found me because you think I can help turn her back."

"What's your point?"

Scott shrugged. "I don't know. I guess… I thought you guys were pretty close. She trusts you…" He paused. "Malia doesn't trust easily."

"Maybe I can, maybe I can't. At least with you, we know it's worked before." Derek ducked under a low-hanging branch. "You said you followed the wildflowers?"

"Yeah." Scott's brow furrowed. "That's what she smells like."

Derek's steps stuttered. It was so slight that Scott almost missed it.

Almost.

"What?"

Derek glanced at him. "What?"

Scott rolled his eyes. "Don't play dumb. Not now. I'm exhausted and worried and just once can you be honest? Please?"

Derek's mouth pursed before he said, "She doesn't smell like flowers to me."

Scott's gaze skittered away. "Is that normal?"

Derek seemed to pick up his pace, climbing a hill and trekking deeper into the dense woods.

Scott hurried after him, unwilling to be ignored. "Is it?"

Derek shook his head. "Most shifters smell the same to each other."

"Most? So, some don't."

Derek shrugged.

Irritated, Scott wondered, "Well, what does she smell like to you?"

"Citrusy."

"Citrusy," he repeated. "Like… a lemon?"

"Like citrus fruit. Like…" Derek sighed, exasperated. "When you peel an orange or a lime, the rind has a distinct smell. It's fresh, clean… citrusy."

Scott's brow furrowed. "She doesn't smell like that at all. Not to me."

"I know." Derek rolled his eyes, seemed to think it over, and then said, "You know how when you go into the forest right after it's rained, everything smells stronger? It's clean and fresh."

"Yeah."

"That's what my dad smelled like. To me, my siblings, to other shifters…" He shook his head. "But not to my mom."

"What'd he smell like to her?"

"She never said. Just that it was different. That sometimes partners smell unique, so they can find each other."

"Partners," Scott repeated.

Derek's gaze fell and then met this. "Partners."

Before Scott could ask him to elaborate anymore, he caught a sound. His head swivelled forward, and he came to an abrupt stop. He held his arms out, as if telling everything around them to be quiet so he could focus in on… A heartbeat.

Scott hurried ahead, passing Derek, and followed the sound. It could've been seconds or minutes, Scott wasn't sure. He climbed over rocks, through bushes, and crossed a creek, and the sound only became louder, more distinct. But it wasn't until he was just feet away from a cave that he smelled it—

Pain.

He stumbled to a stop, kicking up a cloud of dirt underfoot.

Her breathing was thick, like her lungs were struggling to get as much as she needed.

A hand clamped down on Scott's shoulder. "Don't spook her," Derek said quietly.

"How do I—?"

A rustle cut him off and Scott's gaze moved back to the cave. Glowing yellow eyes peered out, followed by a snarl. Her head poked out, snout down and eerie eyes watching him sharply.

Scott swallowed tightly and raised his hands. "Lia… Hey, it's me… You remember me, right?"

She bared her teeth and snapped them at him warningly.

Scott gulped.

Derek was edging around the side, but Malia's gaze was stuck on Scott. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

"Are you hurt?" Scott crouched down, his arms still out to show he wasn't a threat. "Was it the Alpha?"

She stepped out of the cave, her head glowing with the light of the moon. There was dried blood on her chin and down her chest. Was it the Alpha's or hers?

"I just want to help you. That's all." He stared at her searchingly. "You asked me. You told me that if you turned, I was supposed to find you and bring you back… I'm just doing what you wanted. I just want to help—"

She walked forward, her fur bristling, and let out a warning growl that made his skin crawl.

Scott glanced at Derek. "It's not working."

"Try harder."

Scott huffed a sigh. Not for the first time, he resented what Derek seemed to think was 'encouragement.'

Malia braced her front paws apart and lowered her head, watching him from keen, discerning eyes, ready to attack. But Scott could see the way her legs were trembling, could hear how short her breathing was. She was hurt, she was just trying to hide it. And maybe that was a point of pride, or maybe it was a fear that appearing weak would make her a target. He wasn't sure. What he did know was that he wanted— needed —to help her.

Taking a deep breath, he licked his lips. "I know you're mad at me. I know I screwed things up. I… I want to apologize for that, I want to talk about it, I want us to be what we used to be. But I can't do that if you aren't you. And I know that maybe it feels safer this way. Maybe being out here, making a home in this cave, seems easier than back home, but you can't hide. This isn't your home. Not really. You have a dad, you have Shiloh, you… You have Stiles and Allison and Danny. And you have me. Even if you don't want me right now. You have me. Always."

Malia cocked her head.

"Keep going," Derek said.

"I don't know what else to say."

"Tell her this is no way to live. That the coyote is a part of her, not all of her. That she can find a balance if she wants to."

Scott turned to look at him. "Sounds like you just did."

Malia had turned to look at Derek.

Derek crouched down too, trying to make himself look less imposing. "We've talked about this… About what it means to hide…" His gaze fell to the ground. "Laura wanted to hide too. When it hurts too much, when we can't take it, sometimes we run. But eventually, you have to go back. You have to face your fears, face the people that hurt you, or you'll spend your whole life running and you'll never get anywhere."

Scott stared at Derek's profile, his brow furrowed. It was rare, but every once in a while, Derek let them see just a little bit of his humanity, a side of him that was often hidden behind the rough exterior he wore like a shield. And maybe that was partly Scott's fault. Maybe he hadn't wanted to see anything more than an enemy in Derek.

Raising his eyes, Derek stared at Malia. "Let us help you."

Malia swayed a little, and then sat back, giving up on trying to look stronger than she felt. But she didn't turn back, not yet. She laid her head down atop her paws and huffed a sigh through her nose.

Scott half-smiled. "I can wait, you know? I've got all night."

The yellow faded from her eyes, leaving brown behind. She inched herself forward on her belly, her ears pressed back against her head, and let out a tiny whimper.

His heart twisted and he held a hand out to her.

She sniffed at the air.

Scott leaned forward. "It's okay… I've got you."

She inhaled deeply, and as she exhaled, her fur fled. Her body shifted back to human, leaving bruised, bare skin behind. Malia lay shivering on the ground, her eyes darting around wildly, her chest heaving. "It hurts," she croaked.

A coat fell across her, swamping her much smaller form.

She looked up, tears lining her eyes.

Derek nodded down at her.

Malia pinched the jacket closed around her front. "How long?"

"If you shifted when I think you did… Five hours, maybe."

Malia closed her eyes. "Did I hurt anybody?"

"The Alpha, I think." Derek knelt next to her and reached out, rubbing a thumb over her chin. "This blood isn't yours."

Her brow furrowed. "I think… I might remember that. It's kind of fuzzy."

"It'll come back to you." Derek turned to Scott. "We should get out of here. The Alpha could still be around."

Scott nodded, but frowned. "Cole and Allison might still be at her house. And even if they aren't, her dad might be."

"What about your place?"

Scott shrugged. "My mom's working an overnight."

"Does anybody wanna ask me what I want?" Malia's voice interrupted.

Scott winced. "Of course. I didn't mean to—"

"I can't go home. If I shift again, I might hurt my dad." She pushed up to her feet and shoved her arms through the sleeves of the jacket. She zipped the front and hugged her arms around herself. "I'll tell my dad I'm at Allison's. That we were up late studying. He won't like it, but he won't fight me on it."

Nodding slowly, Scott stood too. "Okay. So… My place? Or Stiles', if you want."

"No. He's human too. And his dad already wants to interview me. I don't think I need that stress right now." She clenched her teeth. "Your place."

"Okay." Scott felt a nervous energy flood him. She was right there, but still felt so far away.

"Can you walk?" Derek wondered.

Malia nodded. "Yeah. It's just my ribs. They're a little sore."

"A little?" Derek raised a skeptical eyebrow. "It's not a short walk back."

"I can walk," she bit off.

Derek shrugged. "If you say so." He walked ahead and Scott lingered, hesitating.

Malia stepped forward. She wasn't entirely steady, but he could tell she was trying to pretend it wasn't noticeable, so he didn't say anything. He stayed close though, just in case she stumbled. The last time she'd shifted, he'd carried her home. He was prepared to do it again, even if his own body felt rung out and exhausted. Now that the adrenaline and worry had ebbed, his arms and legs felt twice as heavy as usual. His feet were dragging against the forest floor, but he couldn't gather the energy to lift them any higher.

Derek slowed his pace when he realized they weren't keeping up as well as they should. "The longer we take to get out of here, the longer it'll be 'til either of you get some rest. Either pick up the pace or I'm going to start carrying people."

Malia tilted her chin up and tried to walk faster. She winced, her arm tightening around her waist. With a groan, she leaned forward, her free hand on her knee.

Sighing, Derek walked toward her.

"No! I don't need—"

He picked her up easily. "You're hurt and you're slowing us down."

Malia didn't look happy, but she clamped her mouth shut and let him carry her.

Derek glanced behind him. "Scott, keep up."

With gritted teeth, Scott picked up his pace and followed after him.

---

…

---

Chris put the SUV into park and stared ahead at the collection of police officers moving around. The back of an ambulance was open, a body being wheeled in. Walking away from it was the Sheriff and a skinny teenager with a shaved head, his hand on the Sheriff's shoulder.

"That one's Stiles?"

"Another friend of Allison's," Kate murmured.

The boy was fidgety, his gestures broad and dramatic. Chris' gaze moved away from him and toward Kate. "Are you gonna tell me about that talk you had with her?"

"You tell me something first. That night you came across the two betas, one of them was smaller, right?"

Brow furrowed, he hummed, "Mm-hmm."

"Well, was he just smaller?" She turned to him, a familiar and knowing look on her face. "Or could he have been younger, too?"

A slow smile upturned one side of Chris' mouth. His gaze found Stiles once again, thoughtful now. It would complicate things— the boy knew Allison and he was, well, a boy. But if he was working with the Alpha, if he had a hand in the strange deaths that had been plaguing Beacon Hills, well… There was only one way to deal with that.

---

…

---

Malia stared owlishly at Scott's bedroom floor, exhausted and only semi-aware of what Derek and Scott were saying.

"Is it always going to be like this? Every full moon we'll be trying not to kill people?"

"No, not if you do the work. Self-control is possible. You just have to figure out what your triggers are and find ways around them," Derek said. "Sometimes that means an anchor, other times it means willpower. But you do it, because you have to. Because if you don't, then people get hurt."

"What about the Alpha? You said Malia had a mission. That as the coyote, she was trying to prove herself, and that's why she's after it. What if she doesn't stop? What if she keeps turning, even when the moon isn't full, just to kill the Alpha?"

"Is that so bad?" Derek sighed. "The Alpha is killing people, Scott. If Malia succeeded tonight, she'd be saving lives."

"Malia's not a killer."

"It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"Because— this is what you are. This is who you are now. You're shifters. Both of you. Which means that you have the ability to stop the Alpha. And I can help you do that."

"And if we do… If we put the Alpha down for good… Does it stop?"

"Does what stop?"

"The death. The killing. The— The luring me out in the middle of the night and trying to force me to kill my friends. Malia putting her life on the line to kill it. If we do this, if we help you, can we just go back to being normal teenagers?"

"You'll never be normal. Not really. But yes, without the Alpha around, the killing stops. And then all you have to worry about is chaining yourselves up once a month. You kill the Alpha, you control yourselves, and you find a new normal."

Scott's teeth ground together. "Fine."

"Fine what?"

"We kill the Alpha… And all of this ends."

Derek stared at him a beat. "Deal."

Malia wasn't sure what happened after that. It could've been seconds or minutes, but eventually, Derek left. She couldn't hear his heartbeat or his voice or anything. It was just her and Scott. She blinked the world back into focus and turned to see Scott rummaging around in his dresser. He came out with a pair of shorts and a t-shirt before walking toward her.

His voice was soft and his expression even softer. "Hey."

Malia swallowed her heart back into her chest. "Hey." Her voice was raspy and quiet, weighed down with an emotion she wasn't ready to explore yet.

"I know you're tired, so am I, but… You're kind of covered in mud… and blood… and you're pretty bruised up. I'm just gonna run you a bath, okay?"

Malia nodded, a quick, stuttering jerk of her head.

"Stay here."

As if she had the energy to go anywhere else.

That didn't mean she didn't want to. She did. At least, part of her did. Another part of her was so recklessly comforted by him that being anywhere else sounded like torture. There was familiarity here. In this house, this room, this bed. The smell of him encompassed everything. And even beyond that, the faint scent of Melissa touched every corner of the house. She wasn't home— thank god— at least she wouldn't be in the path of Malia's fury if she ended up turning again. She'd never forgive herself if she hurt Melissa.

Malia could smell the steam of the bath. Water smelled different when it was hot. At home, before all of this, she would've added things to her bath. She didn't have them often, preferring the simplicity and quickness of a shower. But when she was feeling luxurious, especially after intense track meets, she would soak in a bath filled with perfumed oils that made her skin silky soft. She had a collection of them she only used for special occasions. She wondered if she could do that now. If the smell, once soft and subtle, might sting her nose now.

Scott came back. He held his hands out for her to take. Her ribs protested as she was brought to her feet, but she tried to hide it. Judging by the look on his face, she wasn't doing a great job. He helped her walk to the shower, an arm around her waist that took most of the weight of her legs. He was basically carrying her while her legs did a good impression of walking.

Faced with the bathtub, she turned to take a seat on the rim, Derek's jacket still wrapped around her. Her feet sunk down into the water, a third of the way up her calves. It was hot, but not scalding. It felt good. She watched little steams of dirt leave her skin and knew she'd have to empty the tub and refill it more than once to get it all off her.

"Okay. I put everything down low; shampoo, soap, a cloth…" Scott pointed to the corner of the tub, where it was all in reach. "I grabbed a bunch of towels too. And there's some clothes for you to put on when you're done."

She stared up at him, only feet away, and yet somehow, the bathroom felt phenomenally large, the space between them gaping wide.

"I'll be close if you need anything. I can get some Tylenol for the pain. I don't know how much it'll help but—"

"Scott," she interrupted, her voice thick.

"Yeah?"

"Don't go."

He blinked.

Malia didn't elaborate. Instead, she shrugged the jacket off her shoulders, lowered the zipper, and with little flair, dropped the fabric to the bathroom floor before pushing off the rim and sliding into the water. She brought her knees up to her chest and leaned forward, resting against them.

Scott stood, awkward and unsure.

Malia stared at the faucet. "I tried calling Derek when I started to shift… He didn't answer."

A beat passed before Scott cleared his throat. "He said that was how he found you. He kept calling your phone and found it in the woods. He left your bag and your stuff here when he dropped us off. I… I don't know how much you heard."

"Not a lot," she admitted. "I was asleep for a while in the car and… I was kind of out of it after."

"It's okay. Things are a little crazy right now."

"Yeah," she whispered.

"Do you know what triggered it?" he wondered. "Was it just the moon or—?"

Heartbreak, she thought. Rather than lie, she shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Maybe. It could. For next time."

Malia hummed. "What set you off?"

Scott went quiet for a moment. And then his clothes rustled as he took a seat on the floor next to the tub. "I felt off all day. I had a headache and my chest hurt, like I couldn't breathe. And I was seeing things— things that weren't real. There was a question on my chem test, it asked me how many of my friends I was going to kill. But then… I don't know. After school, it was like a switch went off and I wasn't me anymore."

Malia watched a droplet fall from the faucet and hit the water, causing tiny, ricocheting waves. "What brought you back?"

He snorted. "Derek. He… I was in the woods by your house and I saw Cole in the driveway. I lost it and I attacked the car." Before she could ask, he said, "He's fine. I didn't hurt him. Derek got there before I could. We fought and he… He basically roared in my face and I just… snapped back into focus. And then he said that you'd turned, that you were trying to find the Alpha and we needed to find you first. But we were too late."

She could feel the bruising on her ribs and down her back. She didn't bother to look, but she was sure it was still visible on her skin. She wondered how long it would take to heal.

"Does it still hurt?"

"Yeah."

Scott turned his head a little. "Do you need help? Washing, I mean. I won't look. I'll just—"

"Okay."

"Really?"

She dragged her gaze from the faucet and toward him. "Just my back. I can do the rest."

Swallowing tightly, Scott nodded. He reached past her legs for the cloth and the soap and then shifted down the tub on his knees. He dipped the cloth in the water and scrubbed the soap against it and then—

A gentle swipe from her right should across to her lowest, left rib. Then straight up to her left shoulder and directly across, back to her right. He made a zig-zagging motion from her shoulders down to the water line, just above small of her back. He dipped the cloth into the water and when his hand climbed her back once more, it left streams of hot water behind. The heat felt good while the trickling water tickled her sensitive skin. She shivered against it, her hands flexing against her legs.

Scott paused. "Okay?"

Malia bit her lip and nodded.

Scott kept going. He washed every inch of her back and around her shoulders. He carefully scrubbed down her sides and hips, taking extra care around any bruises. The cloth mounted her shoulder and made slow work of her arm, pausing when his hand was equal were her face. Her head rested on her knee, face turned toward him, watching. Scott wasn't great at hiding his feelings, not when he was upset anyway, and she could see worry and anger vying for focus.

"I'm okay," she said.

His eyes met hers. "You're purple."

"Not everywhere."

A pink tint filled his cheeks and he cleared his throat. His gaze fell to her chin then. He turned his thumb up and the cloth scrubbed against her chin, wiping away the blood. It fell then, gliding down her neck. His fingers stopped when they reached her collar bone, but she could feel the end of the cloth dangling past that, brushing the tops of her breasts. Scott's gaze abruptly veered away.

Malia caught the cloth and continued wiping away the blood there, dipping it in the water and ringing it out, watching a rusty red liquid pool below. Quickly, she made work of washing her legs and her feet. When she was done, Scott pulled the plug, letting the water drain away. Malia hugged her legs again, shivering against the sudden cold. He refilled the tub with her in it and took the cloth away to toss into the laundry basket. Malia leaned back and sunk into the water, her arms across her chest and her knees up, attempting something like modesty. The water covered her ears and sound became strange and dull. She could hear the water lapping against the tub, Scott's footsteps as he walked around his room, and her own heartbeat thumping away.

Malia stared at the ceiling and let the heat soak into her skin and her bones. She tried not to poke her tongue around her teeth even though she could taste blood. She tried not to remember what it was like to feel her bones crack and break and shift around. To feel her skin split open, replaced with fur. She tried not to remember the feeling of complete and utter hurt as she watched Scott and Lydia kiss in that office, bright red hair tangled around his fingers—

Her eyes slammed shut and her head fell deeper under the water, until she was completely submerged.

She didn't want to die. She'd never wanted that. Even on her worst days, when she missed her mother and her sister beyond anything or anyone. Even with a heart that felt like it had been beaten to a pulp with a sledgehammer. It was never about death. It was always about peace. From her guilt; her loneliness; her inadequacies as a person, a friend, a daughter. From the fear of not knowing who or what she was. Of not knowing how to control herself. Of not controlling that other part of her that scared her so much. Of the Alpha and the drive she felt to hunt and fight and kill it.

Suddenly, she was sucking in gulps of air.

Scott's hand was cupped under her neck as he pulled her up, holding her head above water. He stared down at her, his expression pinched, his eyes full of dread.

She blinked water out of her eyes and shook her head. "I just wanted it to be quiet."

Whatever comfort she thought those words might bring, she was wrong.

His mouth trembled. "Lia…"

Shame filled her. For wanting to hide and run and leave it all in his hands. Hadn't she promised they would do all of this together. Him, her, and Stiles. Always. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice thick.

He gathered her up, soaking wet, and hugged her tight. "No, I'm sorry. I should've been there for you. I said I would and I wasn't."

Malia tucked her chin against his shoulder. "It's not your fault."

"Yes, it is. After Saturday… I know I messed up. I know you hate me. I—"

"I don't hate you."

His arms squeezed around her.

Malia's throat tightened, emotion clawing its way up. Tears bit at her eyes. "I love you," she whispered hoarsely. "I'll always love you. You're my best friend and I…" Her fingers dug into his back like tiny claws, but they weren't. They were impossibly human. "I don't blame you. It was the moon. I get that. I just…" I wanted it to be you. "Can we forget it happened? Please? Can we start over and just… Just be us."

Scott nodded, his fingers tangled in her wet hair. "Of course. Anything you want."

Malia breathed a heavy sigh; relief or disappointment, she wasn't sure which. There was still a weight on her chest, but it wasn't as heavy as before. "Can I get out of the tub now? The water's getting cold."

He pulled back, looking worried. "Yeah. Sure. I… Do you need help standing up?" He kept his eyes on hers, never letting them stray lower than her nose.

"I'm okay," she told him.

"Okay. I, uh, I'll just be outside the door." He stood then, his shirt hopelessly soaked, and walked to the door, pulling it closed behind him.

Malia stared at it a moment, before eventually pulling the plug on the tub. She planted her hands on the rim and pushed herself up. Her knees wobbled, but didn't give out. She climbed free of the tub and stood on the fuzzy mat, water dripping down her body. Using one of the four towels Scott had left for her, she dried herself off. When she was done, she pulled on the clothes he'd stacked on the closed toilet lid. Squeezing toothpaste into her mouth, she used her finger to try and clean her teeth, unwilling to use Scott's toothbrush. It wasn't a perfect solution, but at least she couldn't taste blood anymore. Rinsing her mouth out, she then wrapped a second towel around her head and squeezed her hair in clumps, trying to get as much water out as she could. She used his brush to get out the tangles and when she was mildly satisfied with the result, she bundled up both towels and left the bathroom.

Scott was sitting on the edge of his bed, which seemed to be dressed in new sheets and pillow cases. He'd discarded his wet shirt and pulled on a pair of shorts.

Malia threw the towels in the laundry and spotted her bag on the floor. Scooping it up, she dug her phone out. The battery was low, but at least it wasn't dead. She scrolled through her messages to see she had a bunch from Allison, Stiles, and her dad.

She texted her dad first— 'hey, sorry! i'm at allison's. we were studying and didn't realize how late it was. i'm just gonna stay here tonight. i'll be home before school tomorrow to change.'

She opened Allison's next. It was a bunch of worried texts trying to see if she was okay. Then a strange text saying that she'd gone to Malia's house but some animal spooked them and she went home.

Malia sighed. —'sorry i didn't answer. i just kind of went home and passed out. you're okay tho?'

Allison was surprisingly quick to text back. —'totally okay, just gave me a mini heart attack. i'll tell you about it tomorrow. are you feeling any better?'

Malia glanced at Scott. He'd peeled back the blankets on one side of the bed and climbed in on the other, his back against the wall as he fiddled with his own phone. —'i'm okay. or i will be.' She paused and chewed her lip. —'thanks for being there'

Allison sent back a heart emoji. —'of course. what are bff's for?' She added a winky face.

Half-smiling, Malia sent back a heart. —'see you tomorrow'

Allison texted back— 'night xo'

Last, but not least, Malia opened Stiles' many, many messages. It was a barrage of worry and second-guessing himself. He told her Scott had screwed up, big time, that Stiles had handcuffed him to the radiator, that Scott was loose, that he was looking for him, that there was an accident up ahead and he was scared it was his dad. Malia's heart dropped into her stomach. And then Stiles sent her the infamous 'GREEN!' message and let her know that the Sheriff was fine, and Stiles was going to get back to looking for Scott soon.

Malia moved to the bed and sat on the edge. She texted Stiles a simple— 'he's okay. derek found him and they found me. i'm at his place now. everything's green.'

A typing bubble formed immediately. —'oh thank god!' he wrote, followed quickly by— 'uh, does this mean you two are cool again?'

She swallowed down the doubt that was crowding her throat and replied— 'mostly. anyway it's late, get some sleep, we can exchange stories tomorrow.' She paused before adding— 'love you'

Stiles sent a smiling poop emoji back— 'full moon's making you sentimental, tater tot,' followed by— 'but seriously yes, definitely story swapping. first thing! text me as soon as you wake up! love you too, night'

Putting her phone down on the bedside table, Malia laid back against the bed, wincing as her back and ribs pulled.

"I forgot the Tylenol." Scott flipped the blanket off himself. "I'll be right back."

"It's fine." She grabbed his wrist to keep him from going. "It'll heal in a few hours. I'm not even bleeding."

He stared back at her, unconvinced.

"Scott, really. I don't even think Tylenol will work on me. My metabolism will probably break it down too fast."

He nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "Probably, yeah."

"I just want to sleep."

He hesitated a moment, but eventually climbed back under the covers. He sunk lower in the bed and laid his head down against the pillow.

Malia watched him a beat, before reaching up to turn out the lamp. There was nothing but the mocking moon coming in through the window to light the room. Its glow was unnaturally bright, or maybe it just felt like it was given their circumstances. Minutes passed and, despite her exhaustion, she couldn't quite get her head to shut up. There was just too much that happened, too much she didn't know. She'd obviously fought the Alpha, and lost, but she must've done something right, or she wouldn't have been wearing its blood.

"I know I said we'd go back to how we were, but… I need to tell you something." Scott cleared his throat. "And I'm not sure how much you'll like me after."

Malia's heart thumped. "What?"

"Today, after school, I… Stiles asked me to do something. To talk to Lydia and find out if she liked him."

Something sour burst inside Malia's mouth.

"We were in this office, talking. But I didn't ask her about Stiles." He paused. "I was going to talk to Allison, but I couldn't find her. And you've been hanging out with Lydia lately, so I guess I thought it made sense…"

Her brow furrowed. Huh?

"I just wanted to know how much I screwed up. I thought maybe she could tell me if you were okay, if you'd forgive me, and… I don't know. She said something and I just kind of… snapped. The next thing I knew, I was kissing her. And I know how shitty that sounds. Stiles has liked Lydia since third grade. I would never do that to him! Not if I was thinking straight. I mean, it's still my fault. I should've had more control. But it just sort of happened and… Stiles found out and I don't know how I'm going to make it up to him. But you know me, I wouldn't have done that normally. I— I don't even like Lydia. Not like that. I mean, I don't really know her, but she's not really… I mean, she's pretty, but…"

Malia stared at the ceiling, overwhelmed with a flood of emotional exhaustion. Her voice came out tired and bland as she said, "Stiles will forgive you, eventually. He knows the moon is screwing with your head."

"I know, but… He was so hurt and I did that." Scott sighed. "It feels like everything I do is wrong."

"Scott, it was a mistake." She rubbed at her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "It was just like Saturday."

"No, it wasn't."

She turned her head a little, glancing at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean… Saturday was different. With Lydia, I… If I never saw her again, okay. It wouldn't bother me. I'm not saying I want her to die or something, I just mean she's never really been a part of my life, so it wouldn't change anything. But, if what I did pushed you away permanently, I… I'd feel that. I'd hate that." His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "The truth is, when we were in the woods and I was trying to get you to turn back, I wasn't sure it would work. Derek said I was the only one he thought could do it, but I didn't believe him. Because I can feel you pulling away. And that's the last thing I want."

Malia's gaze fell and her mouth flattened.

"The only thing you asked me to do was bring you back, and I wasn't sure I could. I don't want to be a liability for you. I don't want to be the reason you're not safe."

"You're not—"

"Malia, you're my anchor. And I felt that today. Without you, I felt like I was lost. But that's not fair to you. You don't owe me anything. I'm the one that messed things up and—"

"You didn't mess things up. You weren't yourself. I should've done something. I should've gotten help or stopped you. I should've made sure you were safe. I'm the one that let things get out of control because I—" She cut herself off and clenched her teeth. "Look, Saturday, today, clearly the moon just makes you want to kiss whoever's closest. We'll remember that for next time and get you a muzzle or something."

Scott snorted. "I don't think it's that simple."

Malia turned over to lay on her side, facing him. "You said it yourself, you wouldn't have kissed Lydia if you were thinking straight."

"That's Lydia. Even under the best of circumstances, I don't think I'd kiss her."

Malia frowned. "She's not the worst. She's actually really smart."

He half-smiled. "I know."

"I'm just saying… If you did like her, I'd kind of get it. She's beautiful and smart. Stiles doesn't have the worst taste." She shrugged. "She's also shallow and obsessed with her social status, but who knows, maybe exposure to people who aren't will help her grow."

"Maybe, but I don't want to be the test subject." He stared at her searchingly. "I don't like Lydia like that. I think I mostly kissed her because I was hurt and angry."

"Not the best reason to kiss anyone."

He sighed. "No, not really."

Malia's gaze washed over his face, the hollows seemed darker where the moon couldn't quite reach. "What did she say?"

"Huh?"

"That made you snap."

She watched his throat bob as he swallowed.

His voice was lower, deeper, as he said, "The truth, I guess. I just didn't want to hear it."

Malia stared at his profile. "I'd take anything Lydia says with a grain of salt."

His head turned to face her, brow furrowed. "Weren't you the one who said she was smart?"

"She is. Doesn't mean she uses it for good." Malia shrugged. "Anyway, Lydia doesn't matter."

"She doesn't?"

"No. Stiles does. He's your best friend. You need to talk to him. Like, first thing tomorrow."

"I know…" Scott groaned. "He handcuffed me to the radiator and tried to feed me water in a dog dish"

Her mouth twitched. "Yeah, he texted me about that."

"Do… I mean, do you think I deserved it?"

She raised her eyes to meet his. "I think… it's complicated. You weren't you, but Stiles doesn't know what this feels like. Having that part of you that you can't totally control. And maybe it was dumb and petty, the way that he acted, but from where he's standing… I don't know. Even if you didn't mean to, even if you'd never do it on purpose, that doesn't erase the part that hurts. Stiles has liked Lydia forever. And even if she never likes him back, some part of him isn't ready to let go of the fantasy yet. The idea that you'd pick her, that she'd pick you, that's the part that stings. That he's not good enough. And even the person who should be rooting for him, that knows him better than anyone else, knows that."

"But he is good enough." Scott shook his head. "Maybe he doesn't belong with Lydia and maybe he does. I don't know. But Stiles is… He's not just my best friend, he's my brother. And he deserves a lot more than he thinks."

"So, tell him that."

"I will… If he ever talks to me again."

Malia rolled her eyes. "He will. Because you're his brother, too."

Scott nodded.

Quiet filled the room then, not nearly as tense as it had been before. It was easier to focus on Stiles, on repairing his and Scott's friendship than on her own pain. But, like all things, it was short-lived.

"Lia?"

"Hmm?"

"Did I hurt you?"

Her heart squeezed. She thought about lying. About burying this whole awful thing and never digging it back up, but she wasn't sure that would do anything. She wasn't sure that would make either of them feel better. They agreed to move on, to let it go, to forget it ever happened, but obviously that wasn't an option. However… "Do you think the moon's still affecting us?"

Scott's gaze moved to the window, staring through the curtains. "Maybe. Probably."

Malia nodded. "Okay. Well, maybe this isn't the best time to talk about it. Any of it. I don't think I could take another shift and I'm pretty sure you can't handle one either."

He hummed agreeably. "Probably not."

She chewed her lip. "So, ask me again tomorrow."

He stared at her. "Tomorrow," he agreed.

Malia turned onto her back and stared at the ceiling, streaked with reaching moon beams. For the first time, she understood the appeal of a den, far away from civilization and all the pesky feelings it required. But if Scott wanted answers, he would get them. If only because Malia had spent all day running—from him and herself and the inevitable. Maybe it was better to just tell him. To rip the Band-Aid off and get it over with. Maybe then, moving on wouldn't just be a concept but a reality. They could be honest with each other, like they had with everything else, and her heart could begin to heal.

---

author's note: this chapter was an attempt at exploring a few different pov's that either haven't been explored or at all or that much, like allison's and stiles'. there's a lot directly from the show happening in this chapter because of that, like many of scott and stiles' interactions, which i just felt were important to their relationship and understanding scott's frame of mind throughout the full moon.

for me personally, it was nice to have derek and scott team up. they have a mutual goal, helping malia, but they both are just so judgy and suspicious of each other that it makes it awkward and tense a lot of the time. i do think it's important though because it gives scott a chance to see that derek really does care about malia and for derek to sort of mentor scott through his freak out. i don't want to totally derail their relationship through the series by making derek's only close bond with malia. it takes some time for scott and derek to reach a point of total trust in each other even in the show and that'll be true here as well.

i allllllmost had malia's confession at the end of this chapter. but they're still under the influence of the moon and i really want them to be able to be honest with each other and stop running from their feelings without that added uncertainty. at this point, malia wants to forgive and forget, but her pain is still there and she needs to voice that. and scott is going to be struggling with a lot between malia and stiles.

at the end of this chapter, with malia basically at her weakest and most vulnerable state, she's lost, and as angry as she is with scott, as hurt as she is by what's happened, he's still a comfort to her. even her coyote, wounded and defensive, recognizes that. but, by next chapter, she won't be as physically exhausted and she'll be back on the defensive in terms of her feelings and shielding her heart. that can only last for so long though... i can definitely promise that these two are going to make a lot of progress very soon. ;)

things to look forward to next chapter: malia & stiles swap stories; malia avoids scott; friiiiendshiiip; allison confronts some people; and malia answers scott's question.

thanks so much for reading. please try to leave a review!
- Lee | Fina