*Arrives three years late to the fandom with chai latte and no excuses* "Yeah, sorry that it took me a while. Anyway have some angst."

Disclaimer: Teen Wolf and it's characters don't belong to me and I make no money from this.

Chapter 1

oO0Oo

Stiles

Stiles is watching himself going mad slowly and he doesn't know what to do. The Fox is gone. He knows it's gone. Both Mrs Yukimura and her Oni confirmed it for them.

"Am I actually me?"

"More you than the Nogitsune."

She didn't say he was entirely himself.

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to block out that thought. There is a Kanji that's burned into his skin, right behind his ear. It's fading, but it's still there.

Self.

He is himself; Stiles Stilinski, one hundred percent. If he doesn't believe that, he might as well just go and check himself back into Eichen. He lacks conviction though because no matter what he tries he can't get rid of the memory of digging a sword into his best friend and twisting it.

He can't forget how delicious Scott's pain had been.

Knees drawn up to his chest, he turns in his bed to face the wall. If he clenches the fists tight enough he can almost pretend that his hands aren't shaking.

It wasn't him who sucked the pain from Scott because he craved it like a drug, or was it? Does it matter if he remembers doing it? What does it matter if he wants…

He's rubbed raw, an open nerve, his head is a mess and he needs someone to watch his steps more than ever, to make sure he doesn't snap. But it can't be Scott. He hurt Scott and hurt his Pack, almost killed both Aiden and Allison. He knows Scott worries about him but he shouldn't. Stiles doesn't deserve it.

It's been almost two weeks since he split himself from the fox. He'd ripped himself out of his own body by sheer force of will. Which should have been impossible, probably, but Scott and Lydia had been there and Stiles could not be less than himself in front of Scott. He probably did it wrong, somehow, if there even was a right way to do it. He is always too cold now, chilled right down to the bone. It's November, though, and temperatures have dropped below freezing already so maybe it's just the season. Maybe. Hopefully. Please let it just be that.

Curled up on his bed, wraped in three blankets and with a hot water bottle, the curtains drawn to block out the sun because he can't stand the light anymore, Stiles stares at the wall and tries to rationalise what's happening to him. Even low light burns through his eyes straight into his skull, harsh and unforgiving and the aspirin he takes doesn't do shit. The stabbing pain eventually drives him to find the largest pair of sunglasses he can wear without looking completely and utterly ridiculous. It's not perfect, but nothing ever is, and it helps. If those were all the consequences of his demonic possession and botched exorcism he might have been able to deal.

Reality, Stiles learns, is not that kind. It is a lesson he has been taught before but apparently the universe decided it didn't stick well enough the first far-too-many times.

There are tears in his mind. Breaks and cracks and wisps of darkness. A door that stood open too long, now splintered and broken, never to be closed again. He can feel the gaps and the missing pieces and sometimes, when everything is quiet, he hears a voice inside his head whispering riddles.

The Fox is gone. It doesn't matter that he still tenses whenever he hears the buzzing of a fly, or that he has to force himself not to flinch when he catches sight of his reflection unexpectedly. It's gone. It has to be. The voice inside his head can be nothing but a figment of his imagination.

He's not sure if that makes it better or worse.

oO0Oo

Stiles keeps to isolating himself for a while. He has a silent agreement with his dad that if no one pushes him or forces him to talk, Stiles will keep the door to his room open and tell his dad if he's going anywhere.

Not that is going anywhere. Instead, he wanders through the house, sunglasses firmly in place, like an animal in a cage of his own making. He can't play this game forever, but he needs the time. His mind is a roiling mess of guilt/shame/rage. It's only a matter of time before something - or someone - snaps and unless he takes this time to process what was done to him, things will get ugly when it happens. He told Scott and the Pack to stay away and give him space for the time being. What could he say to them, anyway? All the people who will come looking for him eventually? 'Allison, I'm sorry I almost killed you. You too Aiden. No hard feelings, right?', 'Sorry I tried to murder you all, won't happen again, I promise.', 'Sorry I pretended to be me when I wasn't. I'll try to do better.'? Even he knows how insane that sounds. He isn't fine and he doesn't have the energy to pretend to be.

He can't look them in the eyes, knowing what he did, what he had almost done. What he could still do.

He's fooling no one - Lydia has been busy but Stiles has at least five unheard voicemails just from her. Kira called his house and asked for him but Stiles could only shake his head when his dad asked him if he wanted to talk to her. It had nothing to do with Kira in particular. He just doesn't want to talk to anybody.

He thinks the dead rabbit he found on the doorstep might have been left there by Malia. Which would definitely be odd but Stiles supposes that it's the thought that counts. Even Derek has been by, though he - in true Derek like fashion - didn't actually do anything other than glare. At Stiles' window. From across the street. In any case, it was nice to know they cared, even after Stiles had almost killed them.

He's banking on everyone assuming he has demon fox possession related PTSD and needs time to adjust. He probably has and he certainly does, if he's being honest, so it's not even a lie. He really can't deal with people until he gets his head sorted, so he stays away. It's not his only reason though, and that's exactly the problem.

As the days go on, Stiles gets weaker and more and more irritable. His head switches between feeling stuffed up with too many thoughts for just one brain and being far too empty. Echoes of his own voice chase each other in the deserted corridors of his mind. He's still freezing and constantly getting colder. He can't stop the shivering anymore.

Every movement hurts. His bones are aching. Sometimes he feels like he is spun out of glass; colourless and brittle. Invisible in the right light, at the right angle. Feeling fragile, breakable and overlooked is nothing new to Stiles. He is the only normal human in a pack of wolves and he has experience at being a social outcast. It has never felt this literal before. If he moves the wrong way, if he's touched too firmly, touched at all, surely he will shatter and dissolve into smoke. (It has happened before. He's seen it. Seen what his face looked like the moment he died.

It could happen again.)

He doesn't know why he still feels like he's dying, like the life is draining from him even now, when the nogitsune is gone - their connection broken.

Was it broken?

Is it broken?

He does his best not to worry about it, tries not to think about the things he remembers now, the things he knows. Wikipedia swallows up entire chunks of his days, where he's reading up on everything from honey badgers to the lives of Chinese generals from the early 10th century. The random article function truly is a blessing.

Video games aren't as distracting as they used to be. When he catches himself criticising the blood splatters for being unrealistic he turns of the console and shuts himself away for the rest of the day.

But he's doing fine - That's a lie, but it's a lie he's convinced himself into believing - until the day he sees Scott at the memorial.

Of course there is a memorial service. How could there not be? He'd thought about not going, obviously, but his dad had been asked to give a speech and Stiles is getting tired of staring at the walls. He's tired of this whole self pity thing in general. It hasn't helped so far and it's never going to. Avoidance keeps him at a standstill but he doesn't like where he's standing, so it's time to try something different. Therefore, on a damp late November Friday, he dresses up in all black and tries his best not to panic while preparing to leave the house for the first time in weeks.

Of course his dad notices.

"You don't have to come. I know how hard this has been for you. No one would think less of you if you stayed home for this, Stiles." He is worried - no surprise there - and makes no effort to hide it, standing in the doorway, wringing his hands and watching Stiles wearily as he fiddles with his tie.

He is right, too. No one would blame him, but staying home has done him no favours either and he's tired of isolation. He craves human contact again even though he knows he shouldn't. He's lonely and cut off from almost everyone he cares about and he needs it to last forever and can't stand it a second longer. He wants to protect the world from what's inside his head but he's too selfish for it to last. He can't say that, though. Not to his dad.

"This entire thing is my fault in the first place. Alright, fine, maybe not all of it," he amends before his dad can even open his mouth. "But it still feels like it is. Maybe I'm not the one who did this but I'm the one who remembers doing it. So I owe it to the people that I- the people that the Fox hurt to at least be there. I can't do much else to make amends but I can at least do this." His grip on the tie tightens until his knuckles turn white, which doesn't make tying it any easier. He fiddles a few seconds more before he rips the entire thing off and throws it on the table.

It doesn't stay there for long. "Let me help you with that." Silence fills the room as his dad knots the tie around his neck with practiced hands. When he's done he put Stiles' collar down over it and runs his hands over his shirt to straighten out imaginary creases. "You know no one blames you for what happened. I don't need to tell you that none of what happened is your fault. You're smart enough to know that on your own, but if you think this will help you - that you want to do this, then far be it from me to stop you."

Stiles smiles weakly. "Come on dad. We both know there is really no way that you could. And yes. I'm sure. I need to do this."

His father laughs and ruffles his hair, something that he hasn't done in a while.

Together, they walk to the car. The drive is short and spent in silence. As they arrive, Stiles steels himself and forces his back not to bow under the weight of his guilt.

It's nothing but a symbolic gesture, he knows that, but if he doesn't start to do something he'll go insane. Well. More insane.

The memorial is held in a park close to the city centre. Actually 'park' might be a bit too kind a word for the place. Surrounded by a badly maintained hedge and a rotting fence, it's just an usually large patch of lawn with a few trees scattered here and there. Barely enough space to fit a stage and the crowd of mournful and sympathetic watchers, but they make due. People are carrying candles and laying down flowers in front of a row of black and white photographs. Pictures of the seven people who died almost two weeks ago.

Even though he's sure his father's speech is both appropriate for the occasion and sufficiently inspiring, Stiles doesn't hear a single word of it. His ears are filled with white noise and the memory of screaming. Trying to stay unseen, he burns the faces on the photographs into his memory. He can taste echoes of pain and grief in the air. It makes him twitch.

He should have expected to see Scott there. Of course he would come; his mother had been hurt in the attacks. That is another stab of guilt because Melissa has been wonderful to Stiles for years and she shouldn't have been hurt. Stiles - the Fox - cut her with words and swords, and tried his best to poison the wounds, make them fester. It's owed only to Melissa's inner strength and a good helping of luck that she didn't take any lasting damage.

The second Scott's eyes land on him, he notices. It's like a physical sensation, the weight of that stare. It might be because Stiles wants to do nothing more that to disappear - permanently if possible - but he can't bring himself to meet Scott's eyes in return.

This was a bad idea. Confronting what he did to strangers is one thing but confronting what he did to Scott is not something he planned to do today. Scott will try to talk to him and Stiles can't deal with that, not yet. Not with his head swimming with too many thoughts again and the taste of at least fifty people's grief lingering in the air. He hears Scott calling his name but it's not loud enough that he can't pretend he didn't hear him. He's not sure what he would say to Scott if they were to speak now. Something cutting and hurtful probably, because he's too raw for anything else. He wants his best friend back. He wants the easy companionship and free laughter and the teasing back. He wants hands slapped on shoulders and hugs and sleepovers and sharing a bed because they were both too lazy to get the futon and they sleep better next to each other anyway. He wants normalcy again, but there is a wasps nest of barely contained rage sleeping under his skin now. Stiles won't let Scott poke at it.

Scott hasn't been good at leaving Stiles alone, though he has, admittedly, done better than Stiles expected when he asked for space. The daily texts and check-ins are annoying but not intrusive, and thus far he has respected every reply of "not now" and "I need more time" that Stiles has sent to keep him away. He doesn't deserve to be Stiles verbal punching bag just because Stiles can't get his head back to normal. It's not Scott's fault that he feels like a life wire. So he watches his best friend out of the corner of his eyes, sees him try to grab his attention again and leaves in the split second that Scott turns away. One useful thing he's learned in the from the Fox is how to move with the shadows to stay unseen.

Alone, he sits in the car and waits for his dad to come back, head in his hands and trying to calm his breathing. By the time the car door opens Stiles has schooled himself back to looking unphased.

oO0Oo

The ride home is even more quiet than the drive earlier had been. Stiles is driving. The radio stays turned off, as it has been all week. Probably, because neither of them need bi-hourly newscasts to remind them of how fucked up their home town is. They aren't likely to forget.

He feels sick. Seven people. It could have been far worse, but still. Those were seven people who died running from a demon wearing his face.

The Oni had aimed to cut, not to kill. A longer, drawn out suffering would have provided the Fox with more food and therefore with more energy. A creeping death, brought on by terror and cursed poison. Yes, it could have been worse. Had they been ordered to kill indiscriminately, neither the hospital nor the police station would still be standing and Deaton would likely be dead as well.

For Stiles, it's already so much worse.

The Nogitsune had taken control of the Oni only after it and Stiles had split. Stiles hadn't been there. It hadn't been him, the demon walking into the hospital and starting a massacre. At the time, he had been halfway across town, trying to find a way to stop it all, even if that meant dying. He hadn't known about the attacks until the demon told him and the others about them when they confronted it in the school.

So why does he remember being there now?

oO0Oo

Knowing about the supernatural hasn't been easy for his dad, but it is something Stiles couldn't be more grateful for right now. He has no idea how he would have explained to him that his evil clone who nobody knew about had replaced him and wrecked chaos over the entire town. The attempt probably would have landed him in a straight jacket, permanently. It's not something he likes to consider. Then again, the things that Stiles likes to consider are kind of in short supply these days. As it is, he's just grateful. His dad has been great. He has left Stiles to pull himself together on his own but he has never quite left him alone, an ever present, comforting presence. He hasn't offered help, not verbally at least, because they both know that if Stiles should ask, it will be given without question. The fact that his dad still trusts him enough to know when he needs space and when he needs something else is part of what keeps Stiles together. Damn, right now he's grateful that he trusts him enough to drive his car.

Not everything has changed. Not every connection he had was wrapped into something new. If his dad can still treat him the same, maybe he can try and act the same too, for his sake. The idea takes the edges off the silence, makes it feel almost comforting.

His father's steady presence grounds him enough that when Scott text lights up his screen after they arrive at home, Stiles doesn't even hesitate to answer. He manages to divert any sort of questions with a promise to return to school come Monday. That gives him one more weekend to pull his act together and at least put up a farce of being functioning human being. What he says is true in any case. His grades have dropped too much already for him to be able to afford any more absence.

The supernatural has taken too much from him, it doesn't get to take his future as well. It's time to draw a line in the sand.

That evening, his dad finds him writing a make up assignment for English that he should have handed in last week. Last week his head had been a broken and fractured mess though and he couldn't have given two shits about the lives of Hermia and Helena and who gets dosed with love potion and why. His head is still a mess but he's more angry at the world than scared of himself now and this needs to be done by Monday so he will sit down and do it.

"I take it that means you're going back to school?" his dad says, leaning against the door frame.

Stiles doesn't even bother looking up, when he answers. He still needs at least three more paragraphs and then he has to catch up on econ and algebra too.

"I'm sick of staring at the walls. It's not helping me any." Which is the truth. Todays exercise in exposure therapy hadn't exactly been great but maybe the familiar environment of high school will be different.

Out if the corner of his eye, he sees his dad nod.

"I'll call the school then." his tone is hesitant.

He turns, makes to leave Stiles to his work and Stiles expects that to be the end of it but then his dad stops again. Now Stiles actually looks up. There is discomfort written over his father's face, so he probably won't want to hear what he has to say. He sighs. Why couldn't there be good news for a change?

"Whatever it is, just tell me."

"Have you talked to Scott?" Stiles turns his chair around because his dad is hedging, which he almost never does. Stiles fixes him with an unimpressed stare, trying to communicate 'get to the point' without actually saying it.

"We've texted but he's not telling me much. I guess we'll talk on Monday. Why?"

"I've talked to Chris Argent earlier. He was at the memorial. Did you see him?" Stiles hadn't which was probably for the best, so he shakes his head.

"Allison is... Stiles she's not getting better. Not getting much worse either but the doctors don't know what else to do with her so they're keeping her in the ICU for monitoring. It's the same with that Aiden kid I'm told. Chris asked me to… Well he wanted me to ask if there's anything… " He's winging his hands by now and trails off, so Stiles completes the thought on his own.

"He wants to know if I remember what it did to them, if I have an idea of how they can be cured." His voice sounds dead even to his own ears.

"Do you?"

"... No, I don't."

But I could. Maybe.

Stiles looks away.

oO0Oo

Scott

One week before the memorial, Scott gets a message about from Chris Argent that tells him to head to the hospital immediately. The call - and the subsequent text when he doesn't answer that - comes befores his last class lets out. He sees the alert for the missed call and reads the message in the locker room and immediately grabs his bag and heads out, leaving Isaac to stare at him in confusion. There are, however, by far worse things than one skipped lacrosse practice and Isaac will probably appreciate any news he gets more than his company.

The late fall air is biting at his face as he almost speeds towards his destination. He's not sure if he has ever been his high strung before in his life. Since they defeated the Nogitsune things should have been getting better but instead…

Stiles isn't returning his calls. Teaching Malia how to be a werecoyote is clashing hard with teaching her how to act like a human and now Argent has called him to meet him and his mom at the hospital because apparently there is something wrong with his friends - is Aiden even his friend? He still doesn't know if he can trust the twins.

It doesn't matter. Aiden is hurt, just as Allison is, because they both wanted to help Scott. Therefore, they are his responsibility.

He arrives at the hospital faster than what was probably necessary. Argent mentioned that there was no current emergency, but Scott is worried anyway. If he tried to called during school hours, it must be important.

He parks his bike and walks through the automatic doors so quickly, that they almost don't open fast enough for him not to crash into them.

It's easy to find his mom and she hugs him briefly when he does. "Chris is in the waiting room on floor two. Let me just finish this and I'll head up with you." she says, stepping back to her desk while says it.

It only takes a minute for her to sign off a few papers and file them before they can take the elevator together. Argent is waiting for them, as he said he would be but Scott is surprised to see Lydia and Ethan there as well.

Ethan is leaning against the wall furthest from the hunter, watching him wearily. He looks up when he sees them approaching. Lydia, too, looks up. Sitting with her legs crossed and he hands neatly folded in her lap she looks the picture of collected patience, but - aside from Argent himself - she is by far the most exhausted of them all. Scott wonders if she even sleeps anymore. He himself has almost become an insomniac.

They all give the impression of not having left the hospital since Allison and Aiden were checked in. Ethan and Lydia, Scott has seen at school, but with Argent that might just be the truth. Scott is ashamed to admit that he hasn't visited at all before now. It sounds like a stupid justification but the truth is he's just been busy. Teaching Mala takes a lot of his time and so does school, more so than usual since he's taking notes for Stiles as well. Also, as both Allison and Aiden are still in the ICU, no one is allowed to see either of them anyway. But now Scott has the power of his mom and her hospital wide access card him.

"Hey," he finally says, nodding at everyone in the room. They are alone, he notes. No other patients or waiting friends and family members around. For the best he thinks, and unlikely to be a coincidence. His eyes settle on Argent. "You called me? What's going on? Are they okay? Your message was a bit vague."

"Yeah. Sorry about that." He visibly steels himself and straightens up. "Allison's doctor was with me earlier, to update me on her condition. I asked you and Mellissa to come because I had have some suspicions and I'd hoped that both of you could lend me your expertise. And yes, you can calm down. For now, they are both okay."

Scott sighs in relief, then finds himself frowning. "You know I'll help in whatever way I can but I'm not sure what I could tell you that you don't know already. I'm not a doctor and I'm far from being an expert at this." He makes a vague gesture with his hand, trying to encompass the entire situation and how utterly lost he feels in it.

Argent shrugs noncommittally. "Maybe you know nothing. But I'd like your opinion anyway. So, the good news first. Allison came out of surgery with a good prognosis, the blade missed anything vital and I've been told that she would make a full recovery. Now the bad news are, that was four days ago and she still hasn't woken up. She's in a coma now."

Before Scott even has time to react to that, Lydia speaks up. "Including her and Aiden, there are five people here who share the same condition. Came into the hospital with more or less severe wounds, fell unconscious quickly and no one has been able to wake them since. Scott, all of them are victims of the oni." She looks scared, even with the piercing look she gives him and her collected posture. Scott can see it in the way her hands tighten on her skirt.

It takes him a few seconds to process what she's telling him. When realization hits, it feels like his lungs are filling up with ice because no. No, this was supposed to be over. "The Nogitsune. You think it's still…?"

The air in the room grows tense. They have dealt with terrible situations before but this? If the Fox is still out there then Scott is at the end of his rope. He has been out of ideas and desperate before, but that was with Stiles at his side and fighting with him. If what they are implying is true then...

"We don't know for sure. But it's not very likely to be a coincidence, is it? It might just be an after effect; a part of its plans that it never got to finish but I'm not sure I want to take that risk." Argent is pacing now. Every time he passes by Ethan, the wolf tenses a little more. Which has to be some accomplishment because he looks like he'll snap something if he tenses any more. He's watching them all with a pinched sort of expression, but still doesn't say anything. Instead it's Scott's mom who speaks up.

"I'm a nurse not an expert on the supernatural, but I can tell you that five comatose people in one week is definitely unusual. Even by Beacon Hills standarts. Your daughter was badly injured, and so was Aiden. So their condition might be explainable, but they've both been responding well to treatment so far. They just won't wake up. The other three had even less severe injuries and none of them experienced any sort of head trauma. So in my professional, medical opinion none of this makes any sort of sense." She ends on a frustrated huff. It's obvious that she's just as worried as everyone else.

"Alright" Scott finds himself saying and he has to stop himself from grinding his teeth to get the words out. "So it's definitely something the Nogitsune did. What are we going to do about it? Do we even know what's actually wrong with them yet?"

Lydia shakes her head and Ethan growls lowly but it's Chris who says "No. We don't. I've asked Deaton to take another look at them after he closes the animal clinic for the day. Until then we don't know anything. That's why I called you here. I want to know everything you remember about that day. Everything that thing said, everything it did. Anything that could possibly help us find out what it did to my Allison."

"And Aiden." Ethan's voice sounds off. There's anger in it absolutely and Scott sees it reflected on his face as he turns to him. He's still tense, his eyes look like they might start shooting sparks soon, though they are still brown. But there is more there, he just can't put a finger on it.

"And Aiden." he says, nodding once at Ethan then turning back to Argent. Whatever Ethan's problem is will have to wait. "Alright. Let's see what we all remember. Should I start?"

Argent nods. "Please."

So he tells them. He tells them everything he remembers about saving Lydia, the sudden appearance of the oni, the Nogitsune, seeing Allison stabbed and holding her while they were waiting for the ambulance to arrive. He tells them about the day after, the fight in the school, about how the Nogitsune had taunted them, used illusions and tried to trick them. He tells them about how it made them think that they were fighting the oni when in fact the twins, Derek and Isaac were keeping them off. He tells them about destroying it's stolen body with the Bite and trapping it inside the nemeton box.

The events inside of the hospital are added by his mom. She tells about the sudden screaming that alerted her and everyone else that something was wrong. She tells about the pain of being cut by the oni's blade, the freezing burn of whatever curse or poison it was, that creeped under her skin. How it suddenly vanished and she knew that it was over and that she would be fine. The absent shifting of her leg while she recounts the events reminds Scott that his mother, while arguably the strongest person he knows, heals much slower than what he has become used to.

Lydia goes next. She adds to what has been said already with her own perspective, but also describes what happened when the Fox held her captive. She goes into detail when she tells them how it took control of the oni. "It needed me to know when 'death would be close', or so it said. It broke the blade in the exact moment when the oni almost stabbed us. I'm not sure if it was actually death or just the oni in general that it needed close enough for that to work, but that is what it said."

Lastly, Ethan tells his side of events. His voice is quiet and he keeps to what Scott assumes is the cliff note version of events. He talks about how he and Aiden had been all but ready to leave, and how Derek convinced them to stay and help. He talks about their fight with the Fox and its stolen demons, how his brother got stabbed and fell for the cause of an alpha that isn't even theirs.

The room falls into silence when he finishes.

"So - if I gather this correctly - when the Nogitsune was fighting you it send its oni aiming to maim and kill. By the sound of it, Allison and Aiden survived on pure luck, but when it was here in the hospital they were meant to cause chaos and destruction, but not death?" Having finally stopped his pacing, Argent runs a hand through his hair and looks at each of them in turn. "How does that make sense?"

Lydia mumbles something to herself that Scott doesn't quite catch. "What did you say?" Eyes wide, she turns to him. She looks like a deer caught in headlights.

"'I eat what you feel and I'm insatiable.' That's what he - it - said to me. I thought it was just to scare me but it wasn't, was it? That is literally what it did. Its entire motivation. To this thing, we were nothing more than a food source, a means to an end." she stands up, and now it's her who's pacing. Scott is starting to get a bit dizzy.

"It's like a mosquito. When a mosquito bites, it might want to bite the same blood source again so its saliva contains an coagulant which is what causes the bite to itch, but it also stops it from bleeding. Maybe this is the same. The Fox didn't want to kill off it's food source so that's why so few people died. I mean, what happened was tragic but had the oni gone all out it would have been a massacre." Lydia's voice grows faster with every word she says, but it stays firmly and clear. "The goal was to terrorize and cause pain, so it could feed off of it later. I don't think this thing could feed of death the way it could of emotion or it probably would have never let me escape."

It feels like there is an iron fist squeezing his heart. Scott can see the horrified realization mirrored on every face in the room. They had been so incredibly lucky.

But no. Not every face in the room. Ethan, who up until now had stayed in his corner, looks furious.

"So what?" he hisses through clenched teeth and Scott can see Argent tensing and reaching for a weapon.

"So what if the thing didn't mean to kill them?! MY BROTHER IS STILL DYING! Why should I care about the feeding habits of a stupid fox? None of this is helping!"

He slams his hand against the wall, leaving a sizable dent in the plaster. Argent has to visibly restraints himself from pulling out his weapon and that's where Scott steps in, because the last thing they need now is an all out fight between the former alpha and the hunter.

"Ethan." Scott isn't sure if he succeeds in keeping his tone calm and authoritative, but he has to try anyway. "We're all frustrated here and we all want them to get better. But punching walls won't help. Fighting each other won't help." He throws a glare at Argent at that, who's gun vanishes back to where it came from a few seconds later.

"We need to find out what was done to them, so we can reverse it." He walks over the Ethan, keeping his steps carefully measured and slow as if he was approaching a wild animal. It hits him that that might be exactly what Ethan sees himself as; trapped in a hospital waiting room with people who don't trust him - that he can't trust - waiting for news of his brother who might be dying. It's no wonder he feels caged. He doesn't touch him, doesn't think his touch would be welcomed if he tried. Instead, he looks him straight in the eye and says. "Ethan I promise you, we will do everything we can to fix this. I will make sure of it."

Ethan glares at him, eyes searching and full of barely repressed anger but eventually he nods and looks away. "Fine."

Scott nods too and steps back.

The tension in the room is broken by Argent. "There might be something you can do already." He's looking at Scott with a calculating stare and Scott knows he isn't going to lie what will be asked of him.

"I've heard what happened from all of you. There is only one person left whose story I don't know, and I think you will have more luck in getting it than anyone else in this room." The calculating stare turns beseeching at the words but Scott finishes the thought before Argent has to say any more.

"Stiles. You want me to talk to Stiles." As if he wouldn't if he could but Stiles has been as elusive as the loch ness monster lately. "I wish I could help you with that, but he won't return my calls either. I haven't seen him since that night, actually." His annoyance must be obvious but no one comments on it.

Lydia shakes her head. She looks just as annoyed as Scott feels. "He hasn't been returning any calls at all. Most I got was a two minute conversation with his dad. Which wasn't awkward at all."

"Yeah, well. Now we have an actual reason to bother him, so I'll find a way to stop ignoring me." Scott steels his resolve. Stiles has been avoiding them all but he won't be able to keep it up forever. That said… "There is the memorial coming up next week. The sheriff will be there, maybe Stiles will be, too. If I can't get him to talk to me then that would probably be the best time to try."

Argent nods. He looks desperate and tired and it's striking to see the exhaustion so clearly on a man who usually hides his emotions so well. "I'll be there." he says.

And that, it seems, is that.

oO0Oo

Before they head home, his mom uses her magical access card to let him, Lydia and Ethan into Allison's and Aiden's rooms. They go to see Allison first.

The image of her lying motionless and pale as she bled under the moonlight was still burned in his memory. Seeing her surrounded by sheets barely a shade whiter than her, stuck to machines to keep her alive, is somehow even worse. They can't stay more than a few minutes. Scott feels grateful and guilty at the same time, but he's not sure he could have borne the sight much longer. She looks so fragile. Lydia squeezes her hand and kisses her on the forehead before they leave.

Seeing Aiden is easier in some ways, but far worse in others. It isn't a secret that Scott doesn't care for the twins the same way he cares for his pack, but that does not mean he wants them dead or that he doesn't care for them at all. Aiden and Ethan are passionate souls. The former alphas have caused no small amount of trouble in the past. No one can deny that they have been trying their best to be helpful, though. Their methods might be unorthodox and more violent than Scott can ever see himself be comfortable with, but he is not blind. What the twins crave is a place to belong. Scott can't begrudge them that.

What's striking him the most when they enter the room somehow isn't Aiden - it's Ethan. Scott has never seen him act this vulnerable. He's hesitant at first but at both Scott's and his mom's encouraging nod he approaches the bed and gingerly sits down on the edge. Gently stroking the hair away from Aiden's face he leans closer to him and whispers so quietly that Scott is sure he wasn't meant to hear it.

"I'll get you better. I promise I will. So don't go dying on me in the meantime, you hear me? Don't you dare."

Scott swallows and has to turn away. That Aiden has been injured, almost died, in a fight not his own twists his guilty conscience, even if it had been Derek and not Scott himself who had gotten the twins to help. They could have run. They could have left them to their own devices easily. No one would have blamed them. Instead, they had willingly put their lives on the line to help Scott save his best friend.

Now Scott sees Aiden here - lying in a hospital bed, pale and unmoving, face twisted in pain even as he sleeps. He sees Ethan blinking away tears as he rises and turns back to them and Scott decides right then that he will take responsibility for them now. If they still wanted to be part of his pack, he would accept them and all the trouble they would bring. They had earned their place and his trust. It's time he starts acting like it too.

He grabs Ethan's shoulder as he passes to get his attention. "We will do everything we can to help him. You don't have to do this on your own."

The suspicion and disbelieve in Ethan's eyes are hardly surprising, but Scott thinks he also sees a hint of gratitude and maybe even a spark of hope.

NOTES: I am in no way a medical professional. None of this is real and everything is made up also magic. Maybe I made Ethan completely OOC. I also don't care. It's there for a reason.

No hair color was described in the making of this fic.