Archive of Our Own ^beta

"I don't think I was ready to believe."

Sheriff Stilinski leans his head back against the wooden post holding the root cellar up, closing his eyes. Chris and Melissa stare at him curiously, all similarly bound in thick rope. They sit there helpless. They have nothing better to do than talk.

So he might as well. So he tells them about the girl in the car pile-up who had encouraged him to visit his wife. He tells them about how he hadn't been there when she died, but Stiles had been and he blames himself for that, just as much as he knows Stiles blames himself for her death.

And he keeps talking, because he'd shouted his wife down, convinced she'd been trapped in her delusions and dreams, but he's regretted it ever since. "Claudia was different." he says, "She never said anything, but I knew she was different. There were just little things. One of the fuses blew when she was fiddling with the toaster but she wasn't hurt. She never really got ill. She tried telling me… when she was dying… later…" It's hard to get the words out, to even recall them. "She tried to explain it, but I didn't believe." His words sit in his stomach, but remain hollow and empty. They are nothing more than echoes now. "She was talking about Stiles, and when he came of age. She talked about something called a kitsune. It didn't make much sense, she was so ill and rambling but I wish now I'd listened."

"Was Claudia…?" Melissa knew Claudia through their sons. She probably remembers Stiles' mother just as well as he does.

"Do you think she was something supernatural?"

The Sheriff is silent, because he hates to think that. To think that she hid that from him, and then the one time she tried to tell him, he didn't believe her.

But mostly he hates it because of Stiles.

"Does that mean Stiles inherited abilities from her?" Chris Argent asks the question that plagues him, and the Sheriff can do nothing but shake his head and sigh.

"I don't know."

The roof to the root cellar crumbles down on top of them; sand and dirt and roots. Isaac lies sprawled, eyes a human blue while the Sheriff and Argent try to hold it up.

"It won't work!" Allison shouts, finding a tree root and spinning it vertically, "The storm is too strong!"

The Sheriff feels himself slipping down, the weight on his shoulders growing heavier and heavier, cracking and breaking over him.

They are going to die.

Light seeps through, and it's only when Isaac's eyes flare golden that he realises it's moonlight. The werewolf snarls, shoving himself up and once against taking the brunt of the weight. It's a relief, and the Sheriff relaxes at the sudden loss. The wind howls once more and then dies, suddenly as it came.

"Is that it?" Allison dares to whisper, "Is it over?"

Melissa and Chris scramble out, pawing aside dirt to discover their exit. Allison follows, and Isaac heaves one last growl before following.

Bursting out into the open, still dark, but with the moon shining above, they all breathe a sigh of relief.

But Allison and Isaac look around worried, and that's when the Sheriff realises the missing piece of this puzzle.

"Where's Stiles?" and it feels like a lacrosse game four months ago, "Where the hell is my son?"

They find his car with a tree through the front windscreen. It fell across the road practically right on top of the jeep.

There is no Stiles.

Scott returns with Derek, jubilant at their victory and supporting his own pair of red eyes that make Isaac want to bare his neck to him, but there is still no Stiles.

Stiles' dad is mad with panic. Allison and her dad begin looking around the truck, but the rain has washed away most marks. All they can find is claw marks and some scuffed animal footprints.

Isaac trails home with Scott and Melissa. They are all so tired, but he knows they won't have much time to sleep. He's not Scott's official beta. Derek was the one who turned him and he's probably more of an omega now that Derek's lost his alpha status, but Scott and Allison and Derek's companionship provide a pack substitute for now.

And a key member of that pack is Stiles. Isaac knows that.

What he doesn't know is where the hell Stiles is.

The jeep is still in working order, and the Sheriff had driven it back home. There is a hole through the windscreen, and the driver's door is hanging off its hinge. Isaac paces around it, sniffing. He can't pick up any scent other than that of Stiles, rain and wind, and faint traces of Scott and Lydia.

He paces around it again, and then for some reason does another circuit before he realises the issue.

The door is hanging off its hinges, but that's not from the crash. It looks more like something had forced it open, from the inside in order to get out.

There are nicks in the door, and Isaac splays out his fingers slightly and slots them next to the scratches. He arches his hand and it fits almost perfectly.

Someone forced their way out. There are even finger shaped indentations in the metal.

Stiles shoved the door open with the strength of a werewolf and stumbled out into the rain.

"Scott," Isaac is already ringing the new alpha, "I think I've found something."

Days go by.

The Argents comb the forest all the way through. Scott, Derek and Isaac patrol the woods, trying in vain to catch a scent, but they find nothing but deer and coyote.

Scott finds an old car wreck, rusting and still lying there, overturned. It's quite far from the road, which means it much have been quite a bad crash, rolling downhill the way it had. There is the stench of coyote around there, along with the faint smell of fox.

"The Tate family," the Sheriff digs out the file to explain to Scott. There are bags under his eyes and he's barely been eating. "A mother and her two daughters were in the car. The youngest daughter and mother were found mauled by something. Probably a coyote judging by the marks. The eldest daughter was never found. It happened just over eight years ago on… huh."

"What?" Scott looks up. This is nothing more than a distraction and it's doing nothing to finding Stiles. They've already stalked down Deucalion, had Lydia and Danny work out which apartment belonged to Peter, and had Deaton attempt some sort of magical amulet spell thing to help.

"It happened on a full moon." The Sheriff looks up at Scott, and there is hope in his eyes, "What if it wasn't a coyote?"

Allison looks up suddenly, because Stiles and Lydia are usually the ones who work it out first, and so Scott is still waiting for them to voice the answer. But Stiles is missing (presumed dead) and Lydia is frustrated as her banshee powers fail her in finding her friend.

"What if it wasn't a coyote," Allison repeats, "What if there is another werewolf? What if this werewolf that got the Tates… what if it got Stiles too?"

It doesn't fit. There is no signs of forced entry into the jeep, and no scents of another werewolf. It's unlikely, but at least it's something.

And at this point Scott will take anything he can get.

There is a fox in the woods.

There is a fox in the woods and Scott swears its watching him.

Isaac sniffs at the doll. "What the hell?" he asks, pulling a face. Scott shrugs. The hairs on the back of his neck prickle and he glances up. The fox is still there, russet coat dark and shadowed in the depth of the bush it is lying under.

The doll blurts something out and Isaac drops it with a start, Scott jumping around with a snarl. When he looks back the fox is gone.

"Idiot," he chides Isaac.

"Whose idea was it to go into the woods at night to look for a dead body?" Isaac grumbles.

It was his, Scott thinks, but before it was his, it was Stiles' and that was the match that lit this whole supernatural fire. The spark that set off the explosions.

"I'm just saying. If we find her body then at least we can do something."

"Really?" Isaac sounds unimpressed, "Because this sounds an awful lot like you stalling. It's been three weeks. We haven't seen any sign of Stiles. Scott, the chances we find him alive are barely there. We have no idea what's happened to him. Nowhere to start. So you're stalling by trying to help someone else. Trying to give the father the closure you can't give the Sheriff."

Isaac is right. Scott sighs and is about to admit defeat, when a scent drifts across his nose.

It's coyote, but it's also girl, and it smells like the house he had been checking out only that very morning.

He runs. Isaac flounders behind him but Scott is gone. He hears paws on the ground, spots fur and keeps running.

It's fast. Really fast. Coyotes can run faster than wolves, but he's not just a wolf.

He's an alpha.

He leaps. He lands just in front of it - her, he realises, and when he lifts up his head his eyes are glowing a deep red.

The coyote whines, ears flickering back and her eyes flash a brilliant, electric blue.

"Are you sure?" Lydia sounds confused, "That the coyote is this girl Malia Tate?"

"Yes. She's a coyote."

"A werecoyote. Are those a thing now?"

Lydia's been distant since Stiles has vanished. She currently sits by Allison, trying to work out Scott's theory.

"It was the full moon. She shifted. Couldn't control it. She killed her mother and sister, caused the car crash and got stuck as a coyote out of guilt."

Lydia considers this for a moment. "Say this girl is a coyote. How are we meant to help her? And how is this meant to help us find Stiles?"

Scott's words stick in his throat. He doesn't know what to say in response to that.

"We think Scott, as an alpha, can force her to shift back." Isaac says, "But he's not sure how. So we need someone to teach him."

"Who? Derek?"

"No. The twins."

Lydia narrows her eyes.

"Why did you think we came to you?"

There is a new girl - Kira. Scott finds his gaze keeps drifting to her in class. It's not helping his focus on finding Stiles or helping Malia.

She's cute. He thinks he could grow to like her.

It's the reason he has some part of his awareness focussed on her. It's the reason he hears her heartbeat pick up, and smells the scent of coyote.

He races to the locker room, just in time to yank Kira away from snarling jaws. From the coyote he smells nothing but irritation, fear and something he thinks might be guilt.

He shoves Kira behind him, glaring down at the coyote. She bares her teeth, just as something else darts through the open door and skids to a halt in front of her. It's a fox - small and russet brown. It clacks its teeth together and nips at the coyote, almost chiding. The coyote's ears go back and she steps backwards, snarl fading.

The fox turns to Scott with a yip, freezing at staring at him.

Scott blinks, because it's the same fox from the woods the night before. The one he keeps seeing everywhere, at the corner of his vision following the pack every time they searches the preserve, and now it stands in front of him.

It's the same damn fox.

It even smells the same. Like ash, varnish, linen and some sort of laundry detergent.

The smell is familiar, Scott thinks, as the fox bares its teeth at him, eyes a whiskey brown that even as Scott watches, the black of pupil is illuminated by a flash of molten gold that rings it unnaturally, much like when his own eyes flash red and the coyote’s eyes behind the fox are blazing blue.

And that's when it hits him, and he knows the scent. He's smelt it since he met his best friend when he was four. He's smelt it at school, at home, in the locker room.

There are footsteps in the corridor and Scott panics, because he's going to lose him, he's going to lose them both.

It's too late. The fox's ears twitch and he spins around, slipping on the floor and scrambling away, after the vanishing pelt of the coyote.

Scott watches Malia and Stiles vanish from sight and he can do absolutely nothing to stop it.

"It's called a kitsune. A trickster fox spirit, Japanese in origin, but the Sheriff thinks Claudia was one. It's possible Stiles inherited it from it."

"Stiles is a werefox?"

"A kitsune."

“I though kitsune were Japanese,” Isaac frowns, “Last time I look, Stiles isn’t Japanese. Are you sure that doesn’t make him a werefox?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” Scott shrugs helplessly, “And I’m pretty sure werewolves are French, but I’m not from France, am I? Maybe they were just the first to give them a name?”

Isaac grins, "You realise that if you're right and he is a fox, then he is basically werefox."

"And?"

"He's a werefox. You're a werewolf. It's funny."

Scott shoots the beta an annoyed glared. "Can you concentrate?" he gestures to the screws and parts of the trap they are building. It's a harmless box trap Scott got from Deaton. Deaton is of the opinion that the coyote and fox have fallen back to animal instincts.

Scott doesn't believe it. He saw Stiles' eyes. He saw the way the fox got in between the coyote and Scott, and how he herded the coyote away.

He had no idea what was actually going on in Stiles' mind, but he knew that his friend was still in there. It was still Stiles.

And evidently there was still a girl in the coyote too.

"Do you think this is going to work?" Isaac looks at the trap.

"Honestly?" Scott asks, "I don't think so. Stiles isn't just going to walk into it. Which means we're going to have to trick him."

Isaac pauses, mid screwing a screw into the wood. "Trick him? Trick Stiles?" he asks, pulling a face. "You just said kitsune were trickster spirits. And this is Stiles we're talking about."

"Which means we're going to have to outfox the fox." Scott grimaces. "But we've got something up our sleeve."

"What's that?"

Scott glances up just as Sheriff Stilinski enters the garage, "You boys said you needed me?" he asks.

"His dad."

"So we're using his dad as bait to lure him into this trap?" Lydia doesn't sound impressed with the plan. Scott isn't surprised, but it's the best plan they've got."

"It's going to work," he says, trying to remain positive.

"What about Malia?" Allison asks, glancing at her tranquiliser gun, "We need to deal with Mr Tate, and the coyote traps."

"We'll…" Scott is cut off from what he was about to say when there is a yelp and a red blur rolls down the hill and stops in the middle of their rough circle, blinking up at them. It is Stiles or at least, Stiles as a fox. He hears Allison gasp and Isaac just gapes.

The fox staggers to his feet, stumbling and spinning around with panic. Lydia steps back and the fox lurches sideways, tripping over its own paws and stumbling head first into the open trap box next to Isaac.

The door slides down.

"Well that was easy," Lydia says in disbelief.

Isaac is still gaping, "Did that really just happen?"

"Only Stiles," Lydia sighs.

Scott crouches down, and a small furry head stares back at him through the bars. Stiles looks betrayed and a little bit pissed at being in the cage. "Stiles?" he asks, cautiously. The fox snarls at him, and for a moment Scott doubts this is his friend in there, "Woah, Stiles, are you… can you understand me?"

The fox begins pacing, spinning around. It looks claustrophobic, scratching impatiently at the walls of the box.

"Great, so we've got a fox that may or may not be Stiles. Now can we take him to Deaton and turn him back?” Lydia sniffs. Stiles whines, white paws clawing at the mesh. His jaws snap at it, as if he's considering chewing the wire. He barks at them, beginning an intermittence of whines and barks.

"Woah!" The Sheriff approaches, "Is that…?"

There is a strangled noise as the barks cut off and Scott looks back in the cage to see Stiles shaking. His jaws hang open, and he can see the small chest breathing heavily. A whine escapes Stiles' throat but it's choked and short of breath.

"He's having a panic attack," Scott is surprised that Lydia is the first to realise it. "Open the cage."

"What? No!" Isaac protests, "What if he runs?"

"This is Stiles!" Lydia snaps, "We're trying to help him!"

"He's a fox," Allison points out, "How much of Stiles is there conscious?"

With a shudder the fox collapses on the floor. Scott can't take it anymore, reaching forwards to draw the bolt and open the door.

"Stiles?" he asks, reaching in towards the red furred body. He sees the brown eyes open, ears prick up and the whine catches in his throat at the sight of the open cage door. Suddenly, with a speed Scott was not expecting, Stiles is up on his feet and slipping out of the door.

He lunges and overbalances as Stiles vanishes past him. "I told you so!" Isaac complains.

"Stiles!" Scott shoves himself up, spinning and turning, because trust his luck to run out now.

But instead he sees the Sheriff reach down and snatch up the small lithe body.

The Sheriff's hands close around the small russet fox that is his son.

And Stiles goes mad. He writhes and twists and claws like mad. The Sheriff struggles to hold him still and Scott rushes to help.

He sees Stiles' eyes, amber flickering to gold and back. He meets Scott's gaze for a moment, and Scott knows that look. It's the same look Stiles gives him before he does something stupid.

And just like that Stiles twists his head around and small teeth clamp down on his dad's fingers.

With a curse the Sheriff let go. Scott lunges, but Stiles is quick. He darts past them, paws thrumming on the ground as he races across the leaf strewn grass up and away from them.

"Stiles!" Scott calls out, and he breaks into a run behind the fox. He's about to slow when he sees Stiles has stopped on top of a rise and is watching him. "Stiles, wait…" He makes it a few more paces then the fox is gone.

It continues like that. Stiles is quick as a fox - definitely quicker than he used to be as a human. He stays just ahead of Scott.

There is a cry through the woods. It sounds like something crying out in pain and it makes Scott's stomach roll. He spots Stiles, but this time his friend isn't waiting for him to catch up in this merry game of chase they're on, instead he's bounding down the hill out of sight.

Scott follows, and he crests the ridge and slides down, soil scattering everywhere. He freezes, spotting Stiles. The fox is crouched low, whining, his tail and ears drooping.

Next to him is a grey furred coyote, lying sprawled at an awkward angle. Scott moves closer and Stiles glances up, brown eyes begging. Scott looks at the coyote - Malia - and he can see the problem.

Her back left leg is clamped down hard in a steel jawed coyote trap.

There is the scent of blood everywhere. The bone is broken, and it looks like it keeps trying to heal itself. Malia whimpers in pain, and Stiles nuzzles her, glancing at Scott. He whines.

Scott scatters aside leaves, staring at the mechanism of the trap. He has no idea how any of this works.

"Scott!" he hears the Sheriff calling him.

"Here!" he shouts back, "I've got them! Hurry!"

The Sheriff appears, and like Scott he takes in the scene. Scott understands now, why Stiles didn't want to be caught. He needed them to find Malia, needs them now to help her. She will die if they leave her like this.

"Damn Tate," Stiles' dad mutters, crouching by the steep jaw trap. "Damn him." He twists a screw and Malia whines, high pitched. Stiles dances around her, pressing comforting licks to her fur like kisses.

"Don't!" Scott stops the Sheriff from adjusting the trap anymore, "I don't think that's going to work."

The man looks grave, "How else are we going to get her out?"

Scott takes a deep breath. He needs to get over his fear of his powers, and that needs to happen now. He grips the steel jaw trap and tugs.

He strains but nothing happens.

The fox whines and meets his gaze. There is trust in those brown eyes and Scott grits his teeth, feeling them elongate and with a roar his fingers slip in-between the metal and he bends it apart.

The trap springs open and Scott growls while the coyote relaxes slightly in relief. There is a horrible screech and with a snarl Scott's grip wavers. That's when Stiles moves, grabbing the coyote's scruff in his jaws and tugging her out. The pair fall to the side, just as Scott finally let go of the trap. It snaps shut and Scott flinches.

When he blinks again and looks Stiles and Malia are lying together on the ground, human. Stiles is staring at him, disbelieving, while Malia looks scared, if grateful.

They're back, Scott sags in relief. He's got his best friend back.

The fox trots through the woods, leaves crunching beneath his paws. His whiskers twitch, and he can hear everything, smell everything.

It's amazing. It's overwhelming. His brain processes every single thing that crosses his senses, and he trots along, attention darting quickly between items of interest.

There's something he's meant to be doing. Something important.

Something rustles and he pounces, the leaf tearing as his paws slam down on it.

A flash of something on the edge of his vision has him spinning around. His jaws clamp down and he whimpers as his jaws close on his own bushy tail. He lets it go, watching his brush tail twitch, shimmering. It's pretty, he thinks.

The wind howls. There is a rain in the air. Something else too, something that makes the fox want to run and hide. He knows he should be doing something against this, against the dark force that has come into his town. His forest.

Taken his pack away from him.

He whines, confused. He's cold suddenly, despite his furry coat, and he sinks down, pressing himself to the ground. Whimpering he crawls along, belly to the ground. He sinks into the nearest hollow and presses down, down, down, trying not to be seen.

Something's wrong.

He doesn't know what though, so he lies low to the ground and lets the storm rage about him.

The mouse vanishes between his paws, and his jaws close over thin air with a snap. Snarling, he bounds after it, but it's useless.

The fox is starving. The forest is teeming with life, the storm long gone. The oppressive force has moved on, even while the darkness clings to his paws. He enjoys the static crackle it makes in his fur. He ignores it for the most part, that dark niggling feeling. Instead he hunts.

Or tries to. There are so many sights and sounds he can only focus for so long before he twitches, distracted, and the prey is gone.

He chews on some berries as he wonders past, frustrated. In the air he can scent humans and wolf.

He trots forwards, slinking low to the ground as he approaches the humans.

They are casting their gazes around, legs dragging and calling out. His ears twitch.

It's a name, he thinks, as a wolf wanders past him. It's a nice name, and it feels warm like home and pack.

He likes it. It's familiar and comfortable and his.

Stiles. He is Stiles. He is Stiles and Stiles is him. His tail wags - actually wags - and thumps into the ground with happiness.

There is a crack of a twig breaking and one of the wolves - the alpha - has frozen, looking at him. A frown tugs on his face and he stares at the fox. And for a moment Stiles stares back. The human wolf looks familiar, tanned skin and a crooked jaw.

Then the scent of blood and the cry of some hapless piece of prey fills the air and Stiles bounds off, distracted again.

The coyote eats most of the rabbit, but Stiles is quick enough to slip in and grab a leg, tearing it off. Foxes are omnivores, and usually eat small birds and berries, but rabbit isn't unwelcome.

The coyote snarls her displeasure, dragging her food away from him. Her eyes flash and her teeth come out. Stiles barely manages a few mouthfuls before she lunges, stealing her food right back from him.

He stumbles, startled. He whines and paws at the ground. He's hungry for some meat and blood and flesh. He snaps his teeth at her.

She just looks startled. Rightfully so. What kind of fox challenges a coyote for food?

Stiles doesn't know. He steps forwards, unthreatening. She shows her teeth again and he ignores her, making a small begging whining noise in his throat.

She looks confused, but drops the leg. He snatches it up and if a coyote can look put-off, she manages it.

Stiles tears into the meat, jaws clipping against the bone as he wolfs it down. Hah. Wolfs it down.

When he looks up the coyote is trotting away with the rest of her kill. He grabs his leg like a prize and follows after her.

She stops and growls at him. He considers stealing some more meat, but decides against it. Instead he just stands patiently.

The coyote probably decides he's just weird and spins around, ignoring Stiles as he follows after her. He likes this coyote, he thinks. He doesn't know why. He doesn't know why he's following her either, but there's something about her scent.

The humans in the forest smell like wolf and human. He himself smells like fox and human, and she smells like coyote and human.

It's comforting in a way, even if it does confuse him.

So he trails after her and keeps quiet, ignoring her attempts to scare him away.

She doesn't let him in her den. Bored by now, Stiles turns away. He knows where to find her now. He can come back later.

The coyote watches him leave with curious eyes.

He sees her again.

They were bound to. The territory is large, but there is something about the house near the north of the preserve that makes him think of fire and blood, and the tree near the south sends shivers down his fur. So he hangs out to the east, and inevitably meets her again.

He's gotten no better at hunting. He pounces into a pile of leaves and they cascade everywhere. A flutter of wings and the bird flies up, unharmed.

His tail lashes from side to side like a cat, staring woefully at his prey. There is a yipping laugh of a growl and he spins around, almost falling over his paws as he sees the coyote staring at him.

Stiles barks at her. She just stares in amusement and then turns, trotting away. After a few steps she turns back.

He races after her, and she snaps when he gets too close, but Stiles ignores her. She bares her teeth and he falls silent, letting her nudge him to the side, out of the way, using her muzzle to manoeuvre him to one side. Then she prances away, sinking into a crouch, muscles tense and ready, then leaps out suddenly. Stiles jumps in surprise.

Her jaws close around a pigeon that takes off from the tree. She drags it down, shaking it until the neck snaps.

She drops it triumphantly, and a little smugly. A feather is stuck on her nose and Stiles barks a laugh, bounding forwards and licking it off. She sneezes, and glares. He whines and nudges the kill, questioningly.

The coyote is unbothered when he begins to tear into the meat. Instead she flops down next to him and begins chewing on her own section.

Stiles isn't quite sure why he's hanging around with the coyote. Fox's don't hang around with coyotes, he knows that, but then he knows he's not a fox.

She's not really a coyote either. She sits on the hillside besides him, looking down to where humans run track along a well-worn path.

Coach is barking orders and the kids run. Stiles thinks he should probably be down there with them, but he's a fox. He thinks that gives him some time off.

Two twins run past, and they look and smell familiar. Next to him the coyote sniffs at the wolf-human scent.

Stiles glances at her, and she stares at him curiously. He is distracted suddenly when the alpha wolf runs past, followed by the beta. A whine escapes his throat.

He wants to be with them. He wants to be besides them with two legs and he wants to be Stiles again.

But he has no idea how.

Next to him the coyote ducks her head and whines with him.

He sneaks into the town. Beacon Hills is busy, but there is food in dustbins and scents everywhere. Somehow his paws take him down to a quiet street and a house with only one heartbeat inside.

He feels, more than hears the coyote behind him. She's followed him here, and she takes in the house, a blue jeep and police cruiser parked in the drive way.

The phone rings and is answered. The guy inside obviously isn't sleeping then.

"Scott? Have you found anything? Have you found Stiles?"

The fox whines. He's here. He's right here, so, so close but so far. He spins around, and races away. He can't take this.

The coyote follows and when he eventually slows, she is there to press herself against him, and she licks at the knots in his fur until he calms down enough to finally slip into sleep.

She stalks around the house on the edge of the preserve and Stiles follows her. She glances around to check he's following and then makes for the house, towards the open back door.

It smells like dog and human and alcohol, but Stiles follows. She knows her way around the place, and finally makes her way into a bedroom and curls up on the bed. It smells like her; the faded pink bed cover and a photo frame on the dresser. There are two young girls in there, along with a little caption.

Stiles looks at where the coyote sits, ears down. She looks sad.

Because this is her story. This is her house, her room.

Her explanation to him.

He looks up at her. She - Malia - meets his gaze. Her eyes are confused and for a moment they flash a brilliant electric blue. Stiles shivers and something akin to electricity or fire crackles through him. He knows how she feels.

That night it rains heavily. Stiles has been sleeping in whatever hollow or burrow he can find, but tonight he creeps into the coyote den. A backpack and clothes are torn up in the corner, and Malia curls up in her nest. Stiles sits in the entrance, fully prepared to sleep there, when she shifts over. Her coyote body is larger than his fox one, and so it's easy enough to slip in next to her, their pelts pressed together.

They fall asleep like that, two humans trapped in the wrong body.

Stiles watches Scott and Isaac wandering through the woods at night.

It's coming back to him. He's allowing himself less and less to think about his instincts, and falling back on his memories. They're different though, fuzzy and like he's peering at them through a dark barrier. He's a fox and he's not meant for human memories.

So he watches. Scott spins around, and stares back, just as Isaac stands up, the doll in hand.

It lets out a godawful noise and Stiles flinches back. No wonder Malia left it in the wreck. That thing was awful.

But it was her sister's. The flower for her grave. And his friends are there, invading.

She runs off through the trees but Scott follows. Stiles is left to watch Isaac blunder through the woods.

For a moment Stiles is torn. Go and help his friends or help the coyote.

But he's a fox and he has no idea how to begin to convince them who he is, so he darts off after Malia, paws travelling easily along the forest path.

When they check out the car wreck later the doll is gone. Malia is frantic. She needs it back with an urgency because it’s the only thing she can control, the doll on the grave. Much in the same way Stiles tries to keep his one remaining parents safe, monitoring his dad’s cases, his food, his work…

She takes off for the school and he's right beside her. He loses her when they get in because he's too busy hiding from Lydia and Allison, but picks up her scent near the locker room.

The window is broken, and there is glass everywhere, but the door is partially open. Stiles slips through and straight between Malia and Scott.

He nips at Malia in warning. This is his friend. His alpha. His pack. She backs down and Stiles glances between them, spotting the moment Scott's face twists in understanding.

Stiles doesn't want that. He doesn't want to see the hopelessness on his friend's face, because Stiles is a fox, stuck as a fox, and he doesn't know how to shift back.

Not only that but how the hell did he end up as a fox anyway? He's not sure. He barely remembers.

So he spins around and together he and Malia race away from the school.

There are traps throughout the forest.

Stiles and Malia find that out too late.

They're running, free and wild. One second they're side by side, the next there is a yelp and a steel snap and Stiles skids to a halt.

Malia is curled up on the ground, back leg spread out where the trap closed over it. Stiles whines, nudging her. She can't be dead. She can't be.

One ear twitches and she whines. Taking that as a win, Stiles sniffs at the trap. The bone looks broken, and there is blood pouring from the wound.

He darts back around to nuzzle her neck. Her eyes open and she looks in pain. The bone is probably trying to heal, but it can't. She is going to die, bleeding out in this trap.

Stiles doesn't want that. He can't let that happen. He licks her muzzle reassuringly and then takes off towards the road. His pack better be here. He knows they'll be here somewhere.

They have to be.

He spots Allison's car, Scott's bike beside it. He yelps as he tumbles down the hill towards them, and they all turn to watch his graceful entrance. He skids down, forcing Lydia to step back and trips sideways into a wooden box that probably houses weapons.

It doesn't house weapons. Instead he falls into it and the door slams closed.

He pauses for a moment, indignant and stares out of it.

"Did that really just happened?" Isaac asks and Stiles snarls at the beta. He scrambles to his feet, eyes wide, whining and ears back. He needs them to understand him. And he needs to get out of this box.

"Stiles?" Scott moves towards him, and crouches in front of the box. Cage, even, and Stiles snarls at his friend for even daring to cage him. "Woah! Stiles… are you… can you understand me?"

Stiles can't be bothered with this. He needs to get out. He looks towards Scott, eyes pleading. His paws itch to get back to Malia. He whines again. They have to understand.

"Great. So we've got a fox that may or may not be Stiles. Now we can take him to Deaton and turn him back?" Lydia huffs. Stiles panics then, paws scrambling at the wire mess in front of the cage. He whines and barks and somewhere along the way, despite being a fox, he manages to have a panic attack.

His barks cut off, and he sinks to the floor of the cage, shaking violently. He hears the worried voices of Scott and Lydia, but then the cage door is opening.

He takes his chance, still woozy and still panicked. He darts out, ignoring Scott's shout of surprise.

He doesn't make it far. Only two metres or so when hands reach towards him. For a moment he's limp, recognising dad and family, but then he remembers Malia and he begins struggling again. The hands close down around him, keeping him secured. Stiles thrashes, finding Scott's brown gaze for a moment, right before he turns his head and clamps small needle-like teeth on his dad's fingers.

He'll regret that later, but for now it works. With a cry the Sheriff lets him go, and he darts out of the grip. He slips past the alpha, up the hill and towards Malia. He can't let them catch him now.

But he still needs their help. He pauses at the top of the hilltop, hesitating. Scott uses that opportunity to follow after him, and Stiles decides that will work as well as anything. He bounds into movement before Allison can tranq him or Scott can reach him.

"Stiles!"

He hates running from them, but when he finally reaches Malia's side he knows he had to. Scott stumbles into view and Stiles glances up, whining. Malia opens her eyes weakly, trying to struggle and Stiles presses his muzzle close to her. She relaxes slightly, as if sensing that she would be okay soon.

Scott approaches, followed by the Sheriff. Stiles covers her fur in reassuring licks as they fiddle with the trap, trying to open the steel cage around her leg.

She whines, and Stiles looks up at Scott, begging him to hurry. With gritted teeth, Scott takes a hold of the two sides of the trap. His muscles strain, but he's still decidedly human.

Stiles meet's Scott's gaze, and he watches the alpha's eyes flare red. With a roar, Scott wrenches the trap open. Stiles moves then, a red blur darting towards the trap. He barrels into the side of the coyote, jaw in her scruff and dragging her aside, just as Scott's grip slips. The alpha falls back, the trap snapping shut. The coyote and fox roll to the side, limbs tangled up and fur mixed with skin and bone and Stiles grabs her, hands on her shoulders and holding her close, checking that's she's okay, alive and well.

"Stiles?" she mouths his name.

"Stiles?" Scott gapes, and Stiles blinks, realising that both he and Malia have shifted. There is too much naked skin suddenly, and he's freezing. He and Malia are in a tangle, hearts thudding against each other.

He tries to talk, but his throat is dry and vocal cords all wrongly wired. "Scott?" he coughs, and then he looks down at the girl he's never seen before. "Malia?"

"Stiles," she manages to get out, mouth forming unfamiliar words.

"Thank god," Stiles breathes, his hand finding hers.

"Holy… dude you were a fox."

Stiles reluctantly pulls back, and his dad stares down open mouthed. It is Scott therefore who throws a blanket down towards them. Stiles grabs it, hands clumsy as he attempts to unfold it. He drapes it over Malia's shoulders and she clutches it to her. "I know," he says, voice rough, "Believe me, I know. You okay?"

"I'm fine…" Scott stops when he realises that Stiles was talking to Malia.

She nods, shivering. "My leg's healing. Th-thank you." Her eyes are wide, and she looks like a scared, wary animal. Her fingers are clumsy as she clutches the blanket to her. She shivers, and then leans forwards. Stiles finds himself leaning back towards her warm body, and she presses her head to his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "We're human," she whispers, anger, regret and an odd joy mixed together, "We're human."

Stiles wraps his arms around her, pulling her close until she is cradled against him. "It will be okay," he whispers back, "It will be okay." his voice cracks and he looks up, just as his dad stumbles next to him, eyes watery.

"I thought I lost you," the Sheriff drops to his knees and pulls Stiles, and consequently Malia into a hug. Scott is staring with disbelief and in the distance Lydia and Isaac run up.

"Oh my god," Lydia says.

Isaac just stares, "Only you Stiles," he shakes his head, "Only you would manage to end up as a fox and find a girl who is a coyote."

He just ignores the sarcastic blonde, instead grabbing at the Sheriff's jacket that is suddenly dropped over his shoulders. His dad's hands rest on his shoulders, unable to move away. "Sorry I bit you," Stiles blurts out. "But you weren't listening. You weren't…" he shakes his head, shivering. He's so, so cold suddenly. His body is like ice, and Malia curls closer to him, staring at Scott and the rest of their pack.

"God, Stiles." Scott shakes his head, "Don't ever scare us like that again. We thought you… we thought…" he breaks off.  "Why didn't you find us?" he asks, "Why didn't you…?"

Stiles doesn't have an answer.

Stiles is hiding from Scott.

He's hiding from his dad, from Lydia, from Melissa, from Deaton, from Derek, from everyone really.

It's easier now - he can hear them coming at least. He knows when to avoid them.

Everything is awkward.

He sits cross legged in the library and researches about kitsune. This is what he is now, apparently. What his mom was. What his dad knew about but never believed.

The mythology is all different, but Stiles is quickly pulling apart what is true and what is false.

He'll get there, work it out, and maybe eventually when he next sees Scott it will be less awkward. Less like Stiles totally abandoned them for a month to run around as a fox.

Or maybe he'll just hide out in the library for another hour or so. Scott will be at work then.

He finds Malia in the library. She's checking out books for school, to catch up on her education. Stiles is aware of the sound of her heartbeat, and when he rounds the corner she's walking towards his hiding place. She lights up when she sees him, grinning. "Stiles!"

He grins back, relaxing. Malia knows. She understands. If anything she's got it worse because she's been a coyote for years.

"Hey Mal." she's got her arms crossed over her books, hugging them to her. "How are you doing?"

She winces, slipping around to where his books on Japanese mythology are piled up. "As well as can be expected," she shrugs, "My dad doesn't understand. How can he? He wants to check me into a mental hospital."

For not being a human for eight years, Malia's slipped right back into humanity. She's not a child anymore, rather a wild animal. She might understand the language, but she doesn't understand human behaviour because she isn't one. She's a coyote.

"Tell him you don't want to go," Stiles suggests, "Throw a fit. Play the guilt card. Or there's this councillor at school - Morell. She knows about the supernatural. Talk to her."

"I'd have to go to school for that." she points out. "And that might take a while." she gestures at the books. They're not as simple as Stiles might have anticipated. "I may have stolen a few textbooks while I was a coyote," she admits, "They probably know me as the coyote book thief."

Stiles laughs. "So come back to school. I'll help tutor you. And Lydia will - she's really clever." He pauses. "I'm sorry," he says, because he needs to get this off his shoulders. "You never asked to be turned back."

She shrugs, "I'd rather be a coyote. But I never had a choice. This… you're giving me a choice now, as to what I want to be. And for now I want to be human." she shivers, "Except it's so cold."

Stiles stands, pulling her up. He grabs the books he wants along with hers. "Come on. I know something that since I lost my fur coat helps a lot."

She trails behind him, confused, "What's that?"

He grins, "Hot chocolate."

Somehow they manage to get their hot chocolate, their books and themselves back to Stiles' house through his window. It's easier now he's got a supernatural boost, but it's still a challenge not to spill their drinks. Once in, they fall down laughing on his bed.

"I'm always cold," Malia complains.

"Here," Stiles tosses a hoodie at her. It's weird, talking to her. He was used to silent communications as a fox, and now they're human they fall into human things.

She pulls the hoodie on, sniffing at it. "It smells like you." she says, and grabbing her cup, she sits down at Stiles' side, curling up next to him. "You were a terrible fox." she says, "It's why I started hanging out with you. I was scared you were going to die. I didn't want that."

"Thanks." Stiles says, slightly miffed but pleased, "I'm sorry I wasn't a very good fox after being in a car crash and then suddenly having four legs." he bites his lip realising what he just said, "Sorry. I didn't mean…"

"It's okay. I wasn't a very good coyote when I was a pup either," she shrugs, sipping her chocolate.

Stiles sighs, draining his cup and flopping backwards, "It's just hard now, you know? I don't have a clue what I am. What if I wake up and I'm a fox again? Can I turn back?"

Malia places her empty cup besides his and turns to him, "It's all about control, right?" she asks him, "We can work it out, okay?"

She's leaning over him, far too close. She doesn't seem to understand personal space yet, but Stiles doesn't mind. His hand finds hers and holds it. She blinks at him, and then leans over and presses her lips to his.

He's surprised, but not really. He kisses back. "Was that your first kiss?" he asks, when he pulls away.

She nods, shyly.

"Was it okay?"

She nods, and lies down next to him, curling up. She's warm, and Stiles wraps his arms around her, "Want to stay for a bit?" he asks.

"You're like a hot water bottle," she hums, "So comfortable."

Stiles laughs, burying his face in her hair and closing his eyes.

When Scott walks in hours later, he turns around and walks back out, quietly rolling his eyes at how only Stiles could find a coyote in the woods and end up wooing her.

"I'm sorry." Stiles says to Scott one day. "I'm sorry I didn't try to find you guys sooner."

"You don't have to apologise," Scott hurries to protest.

Stiles shakes his head, "I do. I abandoned you when the Daruch and the Alpha pack were still at large. I left my dad and your mom and Allison's dad beneath the Nemeton. They could have died and I... I scared you all. I scared myself I guess."

"Dude," Scott shakes his head. "We don't blame you. At all. You had a tree fall on your jeep and got turned into a fox. You were entitled to a freak out. Sure it was a bad time, but it was going to happened eventually. According to your dad it's genetic."

"Yeah. My mom was a kitsune too, apparently." Stiles winces, "At first I didn't… remember anything. I was a fox. Four legs, bushy tail, the whole works. The whole thing was like some sort of distorted dream at the beginning. I just sort of went with the flow. Then I met Malia and I realised we… we were different. Fox and human. Coyote and human. And you guy were running through the forest wolf and human. When it finally occurred to me to find you guys, I needed to look out for Malia, not to mention somehow convince you the random fox stalking you was me."

Scott stares at him; one of those deep soul wrenching gazes with his puppy-dog brown eyes that are full of guilt and responsibility. They are eyes that should not be on a seventeen year old boy.

So Stiles throws himself forwards and hugs Scott to him. "It wasn't your fault either." he whispers, hands clawed in Scott's shirt as his best friend's hands come up to wrap around him. "And everything is fine now, right? I'm still me. You've still got me."

And Scott laughs weakly, "I always had you," he mumbles back.

When Stiles pulls back Scott's eyes are soft and he's smiling, and Stiles relaxes.

He grins back.

"Are you dating Malia?" Lydia sits down in front of him at lunch one day.

Stiles startles. "Wha-?" he asks, mouth half full of food.

"Close your mouth." Lydia chides, "And are you dating Malia?"

Stiles considers for a moment, "Probably," he decides. "We just sort of go with the flow."

Lydia smiles, "Great. Then go over there and kiss her before she follows that guy off on a 'tour of the school'." she makes finger quotes. That makes Stiles nervous.

Then he thinks for a bit, "Wait, Malia is here?" he squawks, "At school?"

"Yes. Coach brought her in with talks about running track," Lydia rolls her eyes, "So go rescue her. Be a dashing fox hero."

"Never call me that again," Stiles shudders, "It's trickster spirit, anyway," he stands, casting his gaze around before spotting Malia.

Lydia is right. Some jock is chatting her up. She doesn't appear to realise. The jock keeps looking her up and down and if Stiles was a fox his hackles would be raised.

But then he knew that if Malia was a coyote, she would be sitting there staring disinterestedly at the Jackson-wanna-be.

It gives him the confidence to stalk over and wrap one hand around Malia's waist as he slips in next to her, "Hey Mal," he greets her, "Who's this?"

"I don't actually know," she admits, "I didn't catch his name." she leans forwards and presses a kiss to his cheek. "Your coach is weird. He keeps talking about this kid called Greenburg who I am pretty sure doesn't exist."

Stiles snorts. "Of course he exists. In his head."

The jock is gaping at the pair. "You're dating Stilinski?" he asks, disbelief in his voice.

Stiles flails slightly at that word 'dating'. "Maybe," he answers, a bit too defensively, "What's it to you?"

The jock grins, but before he says anything Malia grabs Stiles' chin and pulls him towards her for an open mouthed kiss.

Stiles blinks in shock and she smiles triumphantly when she pulls back. "Uh huh," she grins, "Come on, Stiles! You take me out for hot drinks and we cuddle on your bed. Doesn't that count as dating?"

He opens his mouth, before deciding that, "Yeah, yeah that sounds… huh. How did that happen?" He ignores the sounds of Isaac and Scott sniggering where they have sat down next to Lydia. "Hey…" Stiles tugs Malia away from the slack-jawed jock. "Wanna go see why else our Coach is cool?"

"What? You mean besides the way he insults everyone?” Malia asks. Trust her to be impressed by that.

"He keeps the door to his office unlocked," Stiles whispers in her ear. Students mostly end up using it for making out but they're probably going to find other uses for the free office space. "And guess what he has?” he grins, “He has a coffee machine."

He’s suddenly struggling to keep up with Malia, who is addicted to all hot drinks with a passion. He laughs and trots behind her, reminiscent of the days a fox trotted after a coyote.

"Why don't you ask her out?"

"Why doesn't he ask who out?" Stiles appears from nowhere, looking between Isaac and Scott curiously. Isaac jumps with a curse.

"Don't do that!" he hisses.

"Do what?" Stiles blinks.

"Appear from nowhere."

"Oh yeah? Well you guys do it all the time!" he protests, "And ask who?"

Scott nods towards a girl down the corridor, "The new girl - Kira. Do you think I should ask her out?"

Stiles spins around, and he instantly picks out the girl Scott was talking about. He thinks his jaw drops open because she is glowing. Actually straight out glowing. "Wow." he says.

"Hey!" Isaac hits him, "Eyes off Scott's girl. You have your own."

"No, I mean wow." Stiles repeats, "She glows. Like me."

"What?"

"I mean," Stiles blinks, staring at her, "She's got a yellow aura around her."

Scott stares at him, "Does that mean she's a kitsune? Like you?"

Stiles shrugs, "I don't know. But I'm going to find out."

"What? No!" Scott protests, but Stiles is already moving, heaving across the corridor to where Kira sits listening to music.

He sidles up to her, taking care to make some noise so she knows he's coming, "Hey there." he says, and she looks up with a confused expression.

Pulling one of her earplugs out she asks, "Yeah? Uh… Stiles, isn't it?"

"That's right." Stiles nods, "I was wondering if you had a copy of the history question for the essay?" he pulls his phone from his pocket, "Can I take a picture of it so I have a copy? I lost mine."

"You lost it?" Kira blinks, "History was only last period."

"I'm scatter-brained like that."

"I can… uh… ask my dad for a new one."

"I'd rather have an electronic version. My pet dog tends to eat them otherwise," Stiles grins, and he hears Scott and Isaac's indignation at being called pet dogs and Isaac mumbling 'that was one time' in the distance. Good. "Also, I'm here because I want to know if you'd be interested in having dinner with my friend - Scott?"

He hears Scott's choked gasp and ignores it. Kira looks floored, glancing behind Stiles to where Scott and Isaac are gaping at them, and then sidesteps so that Stiles is standing between them.

"Seriously?" she asks, "This isn't like some sort of joke?"

"No!" Stiles shakes his head, "He really seriously wants to hang out with you. And I really seriously want a copy of that question. Can I?"

"Uh, sure," Kira pulls out her history book, opening it to where a sheet is slipped between the pages. "Here."

"Thanks." Stiles takes a picture (because he does actually need a copy). The flash goes off. "That's blinding," he blinks away light from his eyes, "I hate the flash." he complains, "Sometimes it shows you stuff you didn't see before."

He thinks he hears Kira's heart stop beating. Her breath hitches and in two quick movements Stiles snaps a picture of her, and then flips the camera around and takes a picture of himself. He passes his phone to her, chewing on his lip. "Don't you think?"

The phone almost slips through Kira's fingers as she stares at him, "How did you…?"

Stiles gestures at the phone. "Two months ago." he answers. "I know a bit about it."

She's found his photo gallery, and she opens up the first picture of herself, surrounded by a golden aura that blurs her form. Then her thumb slides across the screen so that Stiles can see his own shape, blurred by fiery orange lines. He watches as she tries to process it. "What do you know?" she asks voice near a whisper. "I… I look like a demon from hell."

Stiles is vaguely aware that Scott and Isaac have gone and the corridor is empty. "Really? Because I personally think it looks more like a fox. My dad called me a kitsune."

Kira looks around, suddenly self-conscious of where she is, "A kitsune?" she asks, "A Japanese fox spirit?"

"How about…?" Stiles grabs a pen and paper and scribbles his number and address. "I'll pick you up after school. We can hang out and chat. Then Scott's picking you up for dinner, okay?"

Kira nods, and there is the beginning of a smile on her face, "How did you know?" she asks, "About me?"

"I can see your aura," Stiles gestures at the air around her, "It's pretty hard to miss."

She looks at him quizzically but Stiles is backing away, meeting Malia as she wanders past. "Later," he calls, as the coyote hooks an arm through his.

"Should I be worried?" she asks.

"Not a bit. Scott called dibs."

Kira and Scott are sort-of dating. Stiles and Kira research about kitsune until Stiles is convinced he is beginning to learn Japanese just from staring at so many kanji symbols.

Then he goes over to hang around with Kira. Her dad keeps insisting she brings friends home. So she does.

And Stiles meets Noshiko Yukimura.

She doesn't glow with the yellow aura that Kira does. Hers is a fainter pale blue. Stiles stumbles when he sees her, staring unabashedly. Noshiko blinks and smiles gently at him. "How long?" she asks, looking between Kira and Stiles.

"You knew?" Kira whispers.

"I… uh…" Stiles blinks, "I was in a car crash a month ago and spent the next three weeks as a fox." he shrugs, "It happens."

"That's rare," Noshiko moves towards the living room, sitting down, "Most kitsune don't ever shift forms. What kind of kitsune was your… mother, I take it?"

"I don't know," Stiles shrugs, sitting down. "She died when I was twelve. But I… I think I'm fire. I can control mountain ash. Apparently I shouldn’t be able to and ash, fire… it’s sort of the same if you think about it, right. Also; I also make a mean Molotov."

"I think I'm thunder," Kira speaks up, "Mom… why didn't you…?"

"I thought you might be human," Noshiko sighs. "Your father is."

Kira relaxes, "Thank god."

Stiles lets out a weak laugh. Is now a good time to mention my best friend is the alpha of a two-wolf werewolf pack, and I’m also friends with a hunter and a banshee.” He grins, sheepishly, “Oh yeah, and my girlfriend is a werecoyote.”