[ Stiles is still missing, honestly. Stiles has been missing for longer than just a couple of days.
The nogitsune has always been an excellent actor. With every body he takes on, he learns their mannerisms and slights of hands, what they like and what they're afraid of. Breaking the trust of the people around the host body is probably his favorite thing to do, which was why stabbing the alpha in the stomach was so goddamn satisfying. Ruining the kid--Stiles'--life hadn't been his original intention, but when he'd found his host, he'd stuck to it like glue, because this kid is somehow important to half of the supernatural beings in town. Including the former male heir of the Hales, someone the nogitsune had known about for some time.
Derek Hale, his name was. And Stiles liked him.
It was too delicious, too easy. He's waiting and lurking in a familiar old subway car, hiding the kid's scent everywhere in the room, save for the faint trail he'd left for the werewolf to follow. Wolves were so easy, and for as much as the nogitsune despises them, they make a fun game of cat and mouse, so to speak.
So he's deathly quiet, and Stiles finds a corner to curl up in in the subway car. He stands up slowly when he hears the footsteps, eyes wide and brown and sad, and crunches his shoulders inwards, like a scared, lost teenager.
And why shouldn't he be? He's been lost for days, after all. ] --Derek?
[ The voice comes out tiny and small, belonging to Stiles, and he dashes forward, nothing but relief in his tone. The presence of the nogitsune has been floating over his head for the past week or so, and there'd be no reason for him to be concerned--after all, he's got the part of the scared, lost, confused teenager down to a science. ] --Derek, oh my god.
[ It's honestly been such a long time since Derek last came to the old warehouse, so long that the pack's scent has faded almost completely. He tries not to take note of Erica or Boyd's, dying, or Isaac's, barely holding on. This is where he came with his betas, his pieces of pack.
This is where their memories are dying, dead. Of course this is where the faint trail would lead him to.
Slowly moving along, ears practically perked, he stills as he hears the familiar voice turned unfamiliar. It rips a hole in him, tears straight oino the pit of his chest, and he has to remind himself to breathe.
To not trust one of the few people that has proven time and again that he could trust him. The fox's scent lingers-- of course it does, he isn't surprised-- but seems dimmed.
Is this Stiles, or is it a trap?
Either way, when the teenager comes into view, he tries to keep his wits about him. He's been tricked more than once in his life, it's made him wary, but the mere sight of Stiles makes him want to forget all caution. This is not what he's supposed to look like, it's wrong and warped and strange, something he wants to fix. Maybe he could, if only one good thing could happen by his hand again. ]
Hey-- hey, Stiles. [ He has to force himself not to back away as Stiles comes forward, bringing a hand up the slightest bit from his side as he moves towards him. ]
Derek, I don't--I don't know how I ended up here. [ His voice trembles when he speaks, like he's a little terrified, and when the hand comes out, the nogitsune pushes forward, having to resist the urge to smirk as he closes the distance between them as fast as he can, hugging Stiles' big hands to skinny arms, as if he's trying to protect himself from something. ] Sorry for--uh, bringing old memories to light.
[ He can almost hear Stiles' actual conscious screaming at him no no, stop, stop please, leave him alone, stop and it's delicious--this one practically has chaos written in his blood, and the nogitsune wants to spill it and lick it clean.
He waits until he's close enough to touch and looks up at him, big brown eyes watering just a little, eyebrows knit together. ] It's me, I swear to god it's me. It's you...right? I'm not--this isn't a dream, I'm seeing you, right?
It'll be fine, Stiles. This is just another place in Beacon Hills. [ Derek stills as he comes closer, letting him close the distance between them and resisting the instinct to fight or flee. So he uses his words, deflecting the lingering pain as he tries not to think on his scent.
The nogitsune smells like fire and flesh, like ozone at the lightning flash, something primal and old. Like a monster in a teenager's clothes. He wants to rip it free of Stiles.
Movements still slow, he reaches his hand out and brushes his fingers against his shoulder, suddenly so much smaller. Every instinct is telling him this is wrong, wrong wrong wrong. An old voice, wizened and soft, reminds him that a fox is a fox. Some can run with wolves, others should be run from.
But he's not running from Stiles. Derek isn't leaving Stiles. ]
Oh thank god. [ They're close enough to the edge of the subway car that the nogitsune sees his opportunity--he waits for a couple of seconds, leans into the fingers on his shoulders and flutters his eyes shut, nodding like the touch is the last anchor he needs to hold onto his sanity. He reaches up and covers the fingers brushing against his shoulder with his own, mimes counting them, because the host he'd chosen had been more clever than he'd expected. But the nogitsune could work with that--he'd always liked a smart host.
The grip on his hand is enough, though. Stiles grabs a hold of his hand like he's going to hold it, and his brown eyes snap open again--the nogitsune squeezes, hard and uses the shock of the motion to turn them around and slam Derek up into the wall, other hand finding the center of his chest and pressing all of his weight there. The kid isn't that strong--Derek could certainly overpower him in seconds--but the nogitsune's powers add an extra boost of strength. ]
Aren't you supposed to be the one who doesn't trust? Not like your poor, stupid alpha. [ His mouth curls up in a smirk, and the nogitsune leans in a little, closer, so Derek can get an good read on his scent. Stiles? Stiles isn't there. At least not now. ] Too bad that's not you anymore. Maybe your little pack would've put up more of a fight if they knew not to trust a fox.
[ God, he can practically taste it, rolling off of him in waves. ] Or is it just Stiles that's your weak spot?
[ Everything about this is wrong, and Derek knows it. Experiences screams with his instincts, drowning out his grandmother's words and reminding him over and over again about how family had manipulated him, about how pretty words and sweet smiles had hidden something worse behind them. Pretty package hiding sick oil and rot, prepared to sweep him under. But another part of him, maybe the piece that Talia would be proud of, practically begs for him to stay. He knows the nogitsune could kill him easily, could take his decade of suffering and thrive.
But it wears Stiles' face, and he won't leave him, no matter the risk to himself.
Even as it seems Stiles leans into his touch, curls long fingers against broad, he stays tense. But of course it still rounds on him, and he's winded as his back hits the wall. It's a familiar position, but not a familiar face that puts him there. His teeth grit, bared at the fox spirit as his eyes flare blue. But he just curls his fingers around his wrist, letting himself be held there by the connecting hand.
The scent hits him full force, and yet all he can do is stare the nogitsune down, listening to the taunts it throws with Stiles' voice. This was stupid of him, so very stupid, but he doesn't care. Not when he could possibly do something here, help Stiles or hinder the monster or something. ]
Only foxes like you. [ His fingers curl tight, but never more than bruising, no claws or broken bones. And he doesn't answer the question, but the silence, the look on his face, speak volumes enough to fill a library. ]
[ The nogitsune tilts his head, the gesture surprisingly calm for someone like Stiles--it's eerie how little he moves compared to how much he used to, lacking gestures and an entire range of motion--but never moves, not even flinching from the baring of teeth. In fact, it makes his smile widen, because he's delighting in the strife on Derek's face, the rage in even his grip on his wrist.
He shoves their hands up from where it's on his chest, slams Derek's other hand into the metal with far too much strength for sixteen years old, and practically crows at him as he leans in so close, brown eyes scanning over his face for a second, listening to everything he's saying. ] Tell me all about it. I should've known, of course you were stupid over this. You should hear how angry he is, I haven't heard him scream this loudly since I shoved that sword in the alpha's spine.
It's almost cute. [ He gives a tight squeeze at his wrists, feeling Derek's pulse flare under his fingers, wanting to draw every emotion out of him that he can, pain and anger and so much guilt. It's everything he could ask for. ] You have no idea, do you?
[ There is something so horribly wrong with the slow, easy movements of the nogitsune in his body, muting Stiles who is all loud movements and gesticulation, hands building what his mind creates and his mouth puts into action. The color in his eyes even seems stiller for the presence of the fox in him, and his own scan his face.
People say Derek Hale isn't expressive. They just never manage to strike a cord in him.
It's happened now, though, and the anger and grief and guilt all burn under the surface of his skin, hot like wildfire. Every part of him wants to rip and tear, but he can't. Not when it would hurt Stiles. ] Foxes like you get hunted down. Skinned.
[ Blues burning brighter as he talks about Scott, but he doesn't resist being pinned as he stares him down, fingers flexing with the squeeze but blood thrumming beneath Stiles' touch.
But then his hands fist tightly, entire body bristling. He doesn't want to hear this, doesn't want to know, doesn't want to think about what Stiles is saying or why he's fighting as hard as he is. ]
You gonna skin me like this, is that what it is? Make a pretty little pelt for your burnt out house? [ He's practically sneering now, and the nogitsune practically watches the expression on his face like he's hungry, curling his fingers into his fists even tighter. He can literally see what's effecting him, watches when he brings up Scott, even more so when he gets to his stupid host.
He really doesn't know. He has no idea.
The nogitsune clucks his tongue, shaking his head, and leans in a little more, a little bit of sadistic wonder coloring his tone. He's thrilled with this new discovery. ] Oh, Derek, he likes you.
[ Stiles makes an agonized noise and he hears it, and the nogitsune can't stop it now, grin going shit eating as he flicks his gaze up and down Derek for a second. ] I can't tell you why, but oh, he does.
I'm going to get you out of him. [ Words coming out in a growl but slow, measured, Derek takes a moment to wish he actually knew more about kitsune, about the types they came in. Something more that could help them, could help Stiles. There's nothing he can do here, not really and not without hurting Stiles or getting himself killed.
But in the end, it's another case of knowing the stakes: his life for another's, if it comes down to it.
Fire has swept away the physical proof of his crimes but left a memorial. Blood has faded but left his hands stained. But if he could do one good thing, one last attempt to do something right, he hopes it's this.
Head bowing in, despite the way he knows his features give everything away, he angles his head the slightest bit. A predator trapped, but not afraid. Not for himself, anyways. ]
I don't care what it takes. You're going to give him back. [ And that revelation has sunken into his very bones, only to fuel the burning need to get the fox out of the teen's skin. Whatever Stiles sees in him, for whatever reason, he can't let him down. ]
Big talk, from a small beta. Are you going to hurt us? [ The nogitsune cocks his head a little, even when Derek leans in towards him, amusement dancing on his face in a way that's absolutely undeniable.
It gets better as he keeps talking, and honestly, the nogitsune lives off of this. He keeps his hands still, squeezing his wrists, until he can shove upwards and get a hand of his own free, wrapping Stiles' long fingers around the the skin of both of Derek's wrists, so he can rest his free hand on his face. ]
What if he's not there anymore? [ His tone is measured and even, but his smile suddenly breaks, wide and manic. ] He's dying, you know. We're killing him, and if we don't, then the kitsune will first. She has no mercy for us.
But she has not killed us yet. [ The nogitsune squeezes, tilts his head in and knits his eyebrows together as he grips at Derek's jaw, now ] And she won't, not when you are going to help us keep surviving. You have suffered so much, haven't you? You killed your family. A girl. She was important, wasn't she? Maybe killing [ And he hits the "t" hard for emphasis. ] Stiles will give you a pattern.
[ Peter and the nogitsune can say what they want, about his status as a beta. It could be true-- Derek is just a beta, barely tucked in Scott's pack but there regardless, and at the surface he's no longer as powerful as he'd been as an alpha. Even with only Cora directly in his pack, with Scott and Isaac at the edges, Peter lurking at every corner, he'd been technically stronger.
But it doesn't change tenacity. Doesn't change that, certainly, he's suffered enough to sustain a nogitsune for a long, long time but he's gotten up time and again. Has fought just to buy time, even if it meant that he could've died. And even if his jaw clenches as his face is gripped by familiar fingers, ones that have held him up to keep him alive, pulled him back to his feet, made him safe for but a moment, his eyes stay hard and focused on his face. ]
You'll die. [ Simple as that, even if it means that Derek will die with the fox in the boy's skin. Because Stiles is important to Scott, important to him, and he's not about to let the nogitsune get away with possessing him.
He thinks of Kira, how little she knows about herself, what she is. Thinks about how easy it would be for the nogitsune to kill a kitsune that's still learning, barely more than a kit to something old like this. ] Stiles? Stiles won't. Not if he can find that thread, somewhere in you. The piece of you that used to be a kitsune.
If he can't find it, she will. And she'll rip you out of him by it, and I'll tear you apart. Until there's nothing left.
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SPARKLES AT
The nogitsune has always been an excellent actor. With every body he takes on, he learns their mannerisms and slights of hands, what they like and what they're afraid of. Breaking the trust of the people around the host body is probably his favorite thing to do, which was why stabbing the alpha in the stomach was so goddamn satisfying. Ruining the kid--Stiles'--life hadn't been his original intention, but when he'd found his host, he'd stuck to it like glue, because this kid is somehow important to half of the supernatural beings in town. Including the former male heir of the Hales, someone the nogitsune had known about for some time.
Derek Hale, his name was. And Stiles liked him.
It was too delicious, too easy. He's waiting and lurking in a familiar old subway car, hiding the kid's scent everywhere in the room, save for the faint trail he'd left for the werewolf to follow. Wolves were so easy, and for as much as the nogitsune despises them, they make a fun game of cat and mouse, so to speak.
So he's deathly quiet, and Stiles finds a corner to curl up in in the subway car. He stands up slowly when he hears the footsteps, eyes wide and brown and sad, and crunches his shoulders inwards, like a scared, lost teenager.
And why shouldn't he be? He's been lost for days, after all. ] --Derek?
[ The voice comes out tiny and small, belonging to Stiles, and he dashes forward, nothing but relief in his tone. The presence of the nogitsune has been floating over his head for the past week or so, and there'd be no reason for him to be concerned--after all, he's got the part of the scared, lost, confused teenager down to a science. ] --Derek, oh my god.
hhhhngh
This is where their memories are dying, dead. Of course this is where the faint trail would lead him to.
Slowly moving along, ears practically perked, he stills as he hears the familiar voice turned unfamiliar. It rips a hole in him, tears straight oino the pit of his chest, and he has to remind himself to breathe.
To not trust one of the few people that has proven time and again that he could trust him. The fox's scent lingers-- of course it does, he isn't surprised-- but seems dimmed.
Is this Stiles, or is it a trap?
Either way, when the teenager comes into view, he tries to keep his wits about him. He's been tricked more than once in his life, it's made him wary, but the mere sight of Stiles makes him want to forget all caution. This is not what he's supposed to look like, it's wrong and warped and strange, something he wants to fix. Maybe he could, if only one good thing could happen by his hand again. ]
Hey-- hey, Stiles. [ He has to force himself not to back away as Stiles comes forward, bringing a hand up the slightest bit from his side as he moves towards him. ]
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[ He can almost hear Stiles' actual conscious screaming at him no no, stop, stop please, leave him alone, stop and it's delicious--this one practically has chaos written in his blood, and the nogitsune wants to spill it and lick it clean.
He waits until he's close enough to touch and looks up at him, big brown eyes watering just a little, eyebrows knit together. ] It's me, I swear to god it's me. It's you...right? I'm not--this isn't a dream, I'm seeing you, right?
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The nogitsune smells like fire and flesh, like ozone at the lightning flash, something primal and old. Like a monster in a teenager's clothes. He wants to rip it free of Stiles.
Movements still slow, he reaches his hand out and brushes his fingers against his shoulder, suddenly so much smaller. Every instinct is telling him this is wrong, wrong wrong wrong. An old voice, wizened and soft, reminds him that a fox is a fox. Some can run with wolves, others should be run from.
But he's not running from Stiles. Derek isn't leaving Stiles. ]
Real as I can be.
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The grip on his hand is enough, though. Stiles grabs a hold of his hand like he's going to hold it, and his brown eyes snap open again--the nogitsune squeezes, hard and uses the shock of the motion to turn them around and slam Derek up into the wall, other hand finding the center of his chest and pressing all of his weight there. The kid isn't that strong--Derek could certainly overpower him in seconds--but the nogitsune's powers add an extra boost of strength. ]
Aren't you supposed to be the one who doesn't trust? Not like your poor, stupid alpha. [ His mouth curls up in a smirk, and the nogitsune leans in a little, closer, so Derek can get an good read on his scent. Stiles? Stiles isn't there. At least not now. ] Too bad that's not you anymore. Maybe your little pack would've put up more of a fight if they knew not to trust a fox.
[ God, he can practically taste it, rolling off of him in waves. ] Or is it just Stiles that's your weak spot?
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But it wears Stiles' face, and he won't leave him, no matter the risk to himself.
Even as it seems Stiles leans into his touch, curls long fingers against broad, he stays tense. But of course it still rounds on him, and he's winded as his back hits the wall. It's a familiar position, but not a familiar face that puts him there. His teeth grit, bared at the fox spirit as his eyes flare blue. But he just curls his fingers around his wrist, letting himself be held there by the connecting hand.
The scent hits him full force, and yet all he can do is stare the nogitsune down, listening to the taunts it throws with Stiles' voice. This was stupid of him, so very stupid, but he doesn't care. Not when he could possibly do something here, help Stiles or hinder the monster or something. ]
Only foxes like you. [ His fingers curl tight, but never more than bruising, no claws or broken bones. And he doesn't answer the question, but the silence, the look on his face, speak volumes enough to fill a library. ]
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He shoves their hands up from where it's on his chest, slams Derek's other hand into the metal with far too much strength for sixteen years old, and practically crows at him as he leans in so close, brown eyes scanning over his face for a second, listening to everything he's saying. ] Tell me all about it. I should've known, of course you were stupid over this. You should hear how angry he is, I haven't heard him scream this loudly since I shoved that sword in the alpha's spine.
It's almost cute. [ He gives a tight squeeze at his wrists, feeling Derek's pulse flare under his fingers, wanting to draw every emotion out of him that he can, pain and anger and so much guilt. It's everything he could ask for. ] You have no idea, do you?
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People say Derek Hale isn't expressive. They just never manage to strike a cord in him.
It's happened now, though, and the anger and grief and guilt all burn under the surface of his skin, hot like wildfire. Every part of him wants to rip and tear, but he can't. Not when it would hurt Stiles. ] Foxes like you get hunted down. Skinned.
[ Blues burning brighter as he talks about Scott, but he doesn't resist being pinned as he stares him down, fingers flexing with the squeeze but blood thrumming beneath Stiles' touch.
But then his hands fist tightly, entire body bristling. He doesn't want to hear this, doesn't want to know, doesn't want to think about what Stiles is saying or why he's fighting as hard as he is. ]
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He really doesn't know. He has no idea.
The nogitsune clucks his tongue, shaking his head, and leans in a little more, a little bit of sadistic wonder coloring his tone. He's thrilled with this new discovery. ] Oh, Derek, he likes you.
[ Stiles makes an agonized noise and he hears it, and the nogitsune can't stop it now, grin going shit eating as he flicks his gaze up and down Derek for a second. ] I can't tell you why, but oh, he does.
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But in the end, it's another case of knowing the stakes: his life for another's, if it comes down to it.
Fire has swept away the physical proof of his crimes but left a memorial. Blood has faded but left his hands stained. But if he could do one good thing, one last attempt to do something right, he hopes it's this.
Head bowing in, despite the way he knows his features give everything away, he angles his head the slightest bit. A predator trapped, but not afraid. Not for himself, anyways. ]
I don't care what it takes. You're going to give him back. [ And that revelation has sunken into his very bones, only to fuel the burning need to get the fox out of the teen's skin. Whatever Stiles sees in him, for whatever reason, he can't let him down. ]
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It gets better as he keeps talking, and honestly, the nogitsune lives off of this. He keeps his hands still, squeezing his wrists, until he can shove upwards and get a hand of his own free, wrapping Stiles' long fingers around the the skin of both of Derek's wrists, so he can rest his free hand on his face. ]
What if he's not there anymore? [ His tone is measured and even, but his smile suddenly breaks, wide and manic. ] He's dying, you know. We're killing him, and if we don't, then the kitsune will first. She has no mercy for us.
But she has not killed us yet. [ The nogitsune squeezes, tilts his head in and knits his eyebrows together as he grips at Derek's jaw, now ] And she won't, not when you are going to help us keep surviving. You have suffered so much, haven't you? You killed your family. A girl. She was important, wasn't she? Maybe killing [ And he hits the "t" hard for emphasis. ] Stiles will give you a pattern.
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But it doesn't change tenacity. Doesn't change that, certainly, he's suffered enough to sustain a nogitsune for a long, long time but he's gotten up time and again. Has fought just to buy time, even if it meant that he could've died. And even if his jaw clenches as his face is gripped by familiar fingers, ones that have held him up to keep him alive, pulled him back to his feet, made him safe for but a moment, his eyes stay hard and focused on his face. ]
You'll die. [ Simple as that, even if it means that Derek will die with the fox in the boy's skin. Because Stiles is important to Scott, important to him, and he's not about to let the nogitsune get away with possessing him.
He thinks of Kira, how little she knows about herself, what she is. Thinks about how easy it would be for the nogitsune to kill a kitsune that's still learning, barely more than a kit to something old like this. ] Stiles? Stiles won't. Not if he can find that thread, somewhere in you. The piece of you that used to be a kitsune.
If he can't find it, she will. And she'll rip you out of him by it, and I'll tear you apart. Until there's nothing left.