Stiles could remember the last time he'd been to a funeral. He was smaller, much smaller then, though then, he'd been clinging to his father's leg, barely listening as different people spoke, most nameleess faces he'd seen before, some with names he couldn't remember. He could recall with vivid accuracy the look on his father's face, hearing the name of his wife spoken on their tongues for the last time.
Claudia.
His mother.
There, resting in a wooden tomb, never to see her again.
He wasn't sure his young mind really grasped that, the permanence of it. Knowing that this little glimpse he had now would be the last time he ever saw her again. Now, older, he didn't really know if saying he accepted that was the right word, but he'd grown used to her absence, unacquainted with the woman that his father had described her to be enough to merely recognize that she wasn't there. That the void she'd left behind was small enough because he'd forgotten what had been there.
At least, that what he told himself, that's how he...coped. Or at tried to. Of course, Dad had always been there to help him, to see him through the hardest parts of it, and for him, he'd done the same. They were there for each when it hurt the most, in times where they were call her name and cry at the silence that folded. An intimacy that only the two of them know.
But who was left now?
Standing here now, his eyes fixed solely on the grey, smooth surface of the casket in his wake, he felt cold, but more than that, small, just as he'd been all of those years ago. Again, he was lost, unable to really grasp it as they spoke his name.
"Noah Stilinski. A proud man and an even prouder father, left this world too soon. He's left behind so many that will miss him and everything that he's done for this town. May he rest wherever he is, and find peace..." Droned someone, a bearded man of the nameless type he didn't care to know, gritting his teeth at his words.
Who was this guy? These...people? People who he'd hardly spoken to in all of his time being a sheriff? His hand shook, umbrella shaking as more came forward, saying their piece, meaningless words, empty words. He could even hear them, crying, whimpering, sobbing out into the cool, misty air, a silence hitting them with an abject cruelty matched only by the pouring rain that pelted their thin, black umbrellas. A short distance away, he could feel their eyes, the pack's, shining with emotions he couldn't read through his own, but he could stand to guess even without looking to them at all.
Regret, sorrow, grief...guilt. He found no pleasure in looking up to confirm the look scrawled deeply in Scott's features, the Alpha stunned into averting his eyes once Stiles found his gaze, empty and hollowed in kind. Yet he had little to say, his mind blank aside from the shadowy void that filled him.
He felt empty. What more could he say?
Cold, devoid of...anything.
Just...empty.
With the better part of the crowd sated, most others beckoning a silence, the same man, who he guessed was the pastor, someone important, he guessed, he turned to the crowd once more when they finished, his voice just as loud and grating from before.
"Rest well, Sheriff. You will be missed." With little more to say, the casket began to lower, the monotony of the action marked by the pace it went, the steely prison eased into the soil with a definitive thump as the dirt began to fill the hole. Each one earned Stiles a jolt, electrified hate filling his bones, his eyes never leaving Scott.
Scott.
This was his fault.
All of this was...was because he was too blind to it. Blind to the truth, blind to his own stupidity.
He seethed, hands trembling more.
All his fault, his mind seemed to echo back, a ceaseless feedback loop of misery as his eyes began to water, burning hot, terribly cold, as tears streamed down his cheeks.
They'd nearly filled up the hole now, soft, wet earth blocking the view of it, the empty casket that remained of his father. Part of him wanted to cling to it, the possibility that he might be out there, somewhere, yet terrified that he was scared, alone, at the mercy of someone that had little regard for him. That seemed almost as bad as...this. The uncertainty of it of all. To think that months of looking, searching, and praying would turn up...fruitless...empty-handed.
It was only made worse by the fact that Theo...was missing.
A loss all around.
It made him sick, his failure to protect the one person he had left draining him of any drive to push forward with the search, and as such...here they were. Casting off an empty box into the dirt.
And it was all because of him.
Finally, the hole was filled, stamped and flattened by the workers before the crowd began to disperse, the service over, but Stiles couldn't move.
He was rooted, folding into the filth and mud just as his father might have been, the thought making him gag, but a hand on his shoulder from behind made him flinch, and with it, the kind face of Melissa, Scott's mother, came into view. She wasn't smiling, a dour expression reflecting his own even when she gave her best efforts.
Not that they made him feel any better...but she was trying. He couldn't hate her for that.
"Come on, sweetie. You can stay the house if you want. There's no reason for you to be alone tonight, especially not after..." Briefly, she looked to patch of exposed dirt, biting her lip at the mention of it. As if going to apologize, she opened her mouth to speak when Stiles beat her to it, a weak smile on his lips.
"Don't worry about it. I know you didn't mean it, but...I-I think I just want to go home." The teen stuttered, doing what he could to ease her worry, finding little energy in trying to argue with her.
He wasn't in the mood to try, anyway.
Yet still, she persisted, the woman's eyes flashing the concern.
"Stiles, I don't think it would be good for you to - " He cut her off, his smile fading a bit, a wave of exhaustion washing over him.
"Please, just...just take me home. I want to be alone." His voice was no higher than a whisper, the teen quickly wiping at his face, his hopes of keeping up this little facade falling away. He couldn't keep this up, this act; the teen just wanted to keep what dignity he had left, and breaking down into a fit in-front of all of his people wasn't exactly going to work in his best interest. Though she looked ready to protest, Melissa simply nodded, guiding him to her car, Scott in-tow. The two said nothing to each other as they each got into her car, the perversion of awkward air seeping into tension as Stiles felt his eyes fall upon the Alpha again, and Scott, sensing his ire, shifted beside him, but said nothing.
What exactly was he supposed to say?
Looking back at the two of them, Melissa, unaware of the nature of their situation, merely sighed, starting the car and setting off down the road.
- (A short drive later) -
The rain still poured, pattering against the window when they pulled up to the front of the house, yet despite it never feeling that way, there was a strange sort of...isolation to it, though, the teen figured with a grim reminder to himself, it sort of was now. It was just him.
Him...alone.
Alone.
He jumped Melissa called his name again, stunning him from his thoughts.
"Here we are, sweetie. Would you like someone to walk you in, or - " Quickly, he refused, not sure how much longer he could keep this up.
"Oh, uh, no! I'm fine. I can go myself. Bye..." Grabbing his umbrella that laid near his feet, the teen unbuckled himself, and, waving to Melissa and not a word to Scott, he opened his door and stepped out. Walking to the front door, he fished around in his pocket, finding his key and putting them into the lock. Unlocking the door, he turned back for a moment, noticing that they were still there; in the window, he could see him, Scott, his eyes unreadable as the two looked at each for the last time before the Alpha turned away, as if unable to look anymore.
He didn't mind that, though.
With each moment he looked at the Alpha, he could feel his shoulders grow warm, fresh with anger that he didn't want right now. Turning back to his own door, he opened it, stepping inside just as Melissa pulled off. He didn't look back, instead closing the door, an empty house greeting him. Dropping his umbrella onto the floor near the coat racks, Stiles could only stand there, his thoughts jumbled.
Stumbling forward, he went upstairs, slowly, as if his joints were made of molasses, but he didn't think he could go any faster, going as fast as he could, finding little energy to push himself to go faster.
He was just...tired.
Too tired to do anything else but sleep.
It felt like forever before he made it to his room, collapsing into his bed, not bothering to take off his suit, unable to care enough to. He laid there, mind running through and again the rushing thoughts that tore through his mind. For awhile, he wasn't sure it...sank in.
His body shook, trembling as his eyes began to tear up, a terrible pain wrenching in his chest, filling him and stealing away his breath, yet it wasn't even a minute later that he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Groaning, the teen didn't move at first, wiping furiously at his face, the audacity of anyone to call him at such a time reason enough for him to grind his teeth, agitation seething beneath his skin. he reached into his pockets, and upon the screen, he read the caller's name, a crude bitterness filling him.
Scott? Was he kidding right now? Did he honestly think that he had shit to say to him? After everything he -
Rushing from the bed, he felt his body tense as his anger grew, grew until he moved, and in one movement his phone was out of his hand, colliding with his bedroom wall. It smashed immediately on contact, and he stood there, his breath catching in his throat.
Staring at it, he couldn't move.
And the silence fell again.
It was...deafening.
He didn't want to hear them, he didn't want to hear anything that they had to say. They're excuses for why his Dad was -
'Dead.' Something whispered, its voice soft, keening.
Freezing, Stiles didn't move.
What was that? Who...was that?
Turning around again, he tried to spot if someone was in the room with him, but with the door having shut behind him, he wasn't sure when that could have happened. No, as far as he knew...he was alone.
So how could anyone -
'Be here with you? I have my ways.' They, no, it said again, purring with amusement when Stiles looked about again, a renewed sense of fear filling him. He was alone, than why, no, how could he be hearing this.
"Am I going crazy?" The teen whispered to himself, gripping his head with confusion, but the voice laughed.
'No, I don't believe you are.' It answered, and Stiles would have smiled if he didn't still feel confused. Sure, he'd had plenty of experience with the supernatural, the strange, and all things in-between, but he didn't feel comforted by it, despite its words. Hearing voices was never usually a good sign, and frankly, he thought with little humor, he didn't think it would have been him to do this. But regardless, the voice didn't seem deterred by his words.
"Then...who, no, what are you? Why are you here, in my head?" The teen asked, waiting for it to respond. There was a pause before it did so, Stiles remarking his silence with an odd anxiety that hadn't been there before, and it wasn't unmet. Around him, the sounds of rain seemed to...fade. Bleeding away until there were none, and he looked around, noting the odd darkening about the room, the corners almost melted to black. Part of him knew just what this was, and this realization dawned on his with a collapsing hand, the teen unable to move as something motioned beyond his view. Stiles could almost feel it laugh, cackling with a familiar cruelty that should have been obvious before.
He knew its name.
"Nogitsune. You're - " Appearing behind Stiles, it was there, presented in its horrid glory. Bandaged, but this time donning nothing more than its scraps of tattered wrappings along its body, its bomber jacket strangely vacant from this form. Yet what remained of his part form was that of his gaping maw, pointed, ravenous teeth upturned into a terrible grin that spread from ear-to-ear. Stepping back in the void of his mind, Stiles was at a loss for words, sputtering without the mind to articulate himself.
How could this...it was supposed to be dead, or...or sealed. It was sealed! So how?! How was it here when it should have been purged from him? Looking back at the beast, he felt them, the thousands of questions burning on his tongue and itching to be answered. He would have asked them, too, if he thought he could manage to speak, but there was too much to say.
Where would he even start?
Nogitsune chuckled again, turning his head in jest.
"Don't worry, I wondered all of those things myself when I awoke again. Trapped here, in the recesses of your mind. Strange to be whole when I should have been elsewhere, stranger, still, to know I still had a form here at all." It admitted, watching Stiles face shift between emotions. A form? Here in his mind? But that shouldn't have been possible. The last of it was supposed to have been in the Urn, away in a distant country too far for him to form again. Waking up after he'd been cleansed, Stiles wanted nothing more than to clean his hands of it, all of it, to never again see its face again. He thought...maybe it was far enough away...it would keep him from doing terrible things, stave away the disgusting thoughts, settle the fear that collected in his gut when the dreams, no, memories, surfaced...again, and again, and again.
But his eyes didn't deceive him, as much as he wished they had been.
It was right there, standing before him, as tangible and real as it had been then. Yet more than any of that...he just wanted to know why it was here, what it wanted from him. He had enough to deal with on his own without some deposed spirit on his back, too.
As far as he was concerned, he could go without this now.
"So...what do you want, then? Why are you here? You know you can't possess me. There isn't...enough of you to...possess me anymore, is there?" He asked, eyes never wavering from the creature's distorted body, sensing its train of thought as it tried to form an answer. Stiles was sure he could fight it off, its attempts to work its way into his mind if it tried anything. If this wasn't the entirety of the Nogitsune, its other half out there, somewhere...then the only other weapon it had was its words.
In that thought, the teen almost felt confident, but the beast only chuckled, a straining, scratching sound.
"What do I want? Hmm, that is a question, isn't it?" It pondered, placing a clawed finger on its exposed lips, humming with mock thought. It was a minute or so later when Stiles stepped forward this time, his patience dwindling from the time it took to respond. He'd very much like to get back to being alone, and if it didn't have anything to say then -
"I want to help you." It stated, and for a moment, the teen didn't think he'd heard him correctly.
Help him?
Smiling with disbelief, he scoffed, shooting the fox a skeptical look.
"Oh yeah? You wanna help me? Yeah, right? Help me what, murder people? Is that you're aim. I mean, I know you're probably desperate, but this is a little much, even for you." Waving his hand dismissively at the creature, he felt the conversation lull to an end, unable to believe its words.
'Help me...yeah, right. What does it take me for, an idiot?' He spat, turning away from the beast with an agitated huff.
He didn't have time for this -
But just as quickly, the fox appeared in-front of him, blocking his passage. It turned its head again, taking interest in Stiles, and whilst the teen tried to stave off his fear, he had to admit that it had taken him by surprise.
But he still didn't have a reason to be afraid.
So he wouldn't be.
Ticking his teeth with a click, wagging his finger as a parent would a child that he done something bad, the Nogitsune pouted, a horrid look.
"Now, now, Stiles. You didn't even give me the chance to speak for myself, especially since you may come to find...that my terms might be of interest for you." It uttered, flashing that wily, gross smile, waiting for the teen to speak, as if he wished for him to grant him permission to continue. Warily, he obliged, nodding in kind. What harm could he bring by just talking to it?
He was fine. This was fine.
Besides, maybe if he got this over with, then maybe he could leave...not to mention his piqued interest about whatever these "terms" might be.
Not that he thought that he would agree to them.
The fox continued, tone light, but scratchy, akin to nails on a chalkboard as he began to speak his piece.
"See, I've been up here, in your mind, for some time, see. It's difficult to know exactly when I "woke up" again, but I've seen you, Stiles." It started, making a move towards him. Taken aback, the teen wanted to understand what he meant, unsure of whether he liked the implications of his words.
"Seen me? What do you mean?" Came his question, eyes trained firmly on the former as it came closer, and yet, closer, still, its grin never fading. It was already strange enough to think that it had been in his head all of this time, lurking, writhing and breathing in the shadows and recesses that he couldn't make out, but to have it said so callously...he had to know what it mean.
"Seen you, felt you...heard you. Heard you as you tried everything you could to convince them, your pack. I have to say, it was a valiant effort...yet still, it was met with disbelief. Strange, isn't it?" It continued, considering the boy's face as a realization came forth once more. Yet...he didn't disagree. He had tried, tried desperately to make them see what he saw, and what did they do?
Nothing.
They did nothing.
Well...they made him out to feel as though he was insane, a paranoid idiot that didn't know what he was talking about, that's what. Someone that hadn't seen what he'd seen...done what he had done...made him feel...invalidated.
Not answering, it continued, almost appearing invigorated from his silence.
"That's right, isn't it? How many times your hunches had been correct, right? How many clues you strung together, how many times your sheer intellect had gotten those imbeciles out of each and every debacle they somehow managed to get themselves into? Yet when presented with something so clearly untrustworthy, something worth suspecting...they leave you...abandon you?" Purring, the fox seemed to stir at it, the collecting anger in his gut.
He had helped them, far too many times to count. Through hell and back, he remained, dedicated fully, completely, to making sure they lived, that they made it through each challenge. Yet the moment some kid shows up, swaying them with his words, his lies...they make him out to be crazy...delusional. Stiles could remember it, the way they looked at him with dismay when he would so much as voice his opinion, his...concerns.
They didn't listen to him. They pushed him off.
They didn't...appreciate him.
"No, they don't appreciate you, do they? No, because if they did, then they wouldn't do that...would they?" It agreed, sidling beside him. It fed on it, his gross despair, his grief...his agitation. But the teen didn't notice it, or perhaps he didn't care to.
It didn't make what it was saying less true.
But there was something else, swimming in his eyes when he heard it speak his name.
"But there is one that you thought would have believed you, right? Someone you considered your best friend, didn't you?" It urged, and Stiles felt himself bristle, knowing immediately of whom they meant. Grimacing, his mind flashed back to it, the sickening, guilty expression upon his face.
It made him ill, sick with disdain.
Sensing an opportunity, the Nogitsune continued unabated.
"Someone you thought would trust your word. Someone you thought valued you...but what did that cost you?..."Pausing, it leaned into his ear, its grin breaking its blackened, ashen skin.
"...Who...did it cost you?" It asked, chuckling as Stiles mind reeled, the question echoing over and over in his mind.
Who did it cost you?
Who did it cost you?
Who did it cost you?
His eyes watered, an image coming for of man with a kind smile.
"D-Dad..." He croaked, small sobs seeping through his pursed lips, unable to stop himself. The one person he had left, a man that had guided him, loved him...understood him...wiped from the world because none of them, not one of them, but especially Scott, couldn't be bothered to listen to him. His thoughts from before rang true, biting at his subconscious with a vicious vengeance.
This was his fault, it reminded him its voice scathing and cold.
He gritted his teeth, a grim turning of his lips into an terrible grimace contorted his features, his mind cycling through what he'd thought before.
All of this was...was because he was too blind to it. Blind to the truth, blind to his own stupidity, it convinced him through his anguish.
His mind ran it through.
Over, and over, and over, and over, and over again.
It was his fault. Everything was his fault. His father was dead because of him. His only family left was dead because of him.
Because of him. Because of him. Because of him.
It was all...his...fault.
The Nogitsune gripped his shoulder, the teen trembling with unkempt rage, the miasma growing thick and horrid within him.
"That's right. And that's why I want to help you." It carried on, smiling as the teen looked up, his eyes blackened with terror, pain...hatred.
The most delicious of emotions.
Sensing the boy's curiosity, it continued.
"I want to give you the closure that you so desperately need." At this, Stiles found his words, giving the fox pause as he asked a question of his own, his expression, understandably, confused.
"Closure? What do you mean?" He wondered, and the fox obliged immediately, assuring him with a prompt answer.
"To know that the legacy of a man such as your father had to end so soon because he was too stupid to see through his lies, wouldn't you want to return the favor?" It suggested almost casually, giving it time to sink into the youth.
Return the favor...as in...revenge? Was it suggesting that he...he kill Scott? Even now, as the festering emotions grew, he could say that he didn't want him dead. He still...he still loved him...Scott. He was like a brother to him, and to put an end to that...Stiles wasn't sure he wanted that, whether he could go through with that. As if sure of his uneasiness, the spirit returned, assuring him.
"Oh, I assure you. I meant nothing in the way of killing him. Where is the fun in that?" It offered, and Stiles, still disturbed.
Fun?
"What do you mean?" His curiosity was...uncertain, driven by his need to know.
"I mean exactly that. Fun in making him hurt the same way that he hurt you. Make him hurt...worse than you. For all the times that pushed you away, isolated you, ignored you; don't you deserve to have a bit of fun, hmm? You can be satisfied knowing that you won in the end. Don't you want that? Hmm?" He purred again, gripping Stiles shoulder tightly, and he, despite his discomfort at the notion...considered it.
Could this grant him closure? Getting back at him? Taking...something from Scott the same way that he'd taken something from him? It would feel good, no, great, knowing that he'd done that, wouldn't it?
"It would...because he would deserve it." He heard it say, its words filling his mind, its claws digging into his skin.
He did deserve it.
"He needs to pay for what he did." Stiles smiled at the thought, the Nogitsune melting into him, its black, coiling body, coated head-to-toe in bandages beginning to seep into him.
He does need to pay. He would pay.
"And I can help you do it. You need me to help you. This is the only way." Gasping, he felt himself grow cold, the two of them nearly fully merged when Stiles nodded.
He needed it. He wasn't being controlled...they were doing this together.
But...something came to mind.
Just before they finished, he managed to choke out a few more words. He knew that Nogitsunes could only sustain themselves on the pain and chaos of others. As they merged, his mouth opened, the question on his tongue.
"But how will you eat?" The teen asked, closing his eyes in kind, the dark consuming him.
The fox grinned.
"I'll feast on the pain that we'll cause."
And with that, his eyes snapped open, and he was in bed, the sky cast and dark, alone in his house, rain still falling outside.
In the low light of his room, his eye was void and black.
Stiles smiled, and closed them again, easing off into a dreamless sleep.