Shadow

Stiles caught himself ranting about something distracting again. Something that wasn't the evil spirit that inhabited his body and periodically pawed at him with invisible hands. It wasn't something that came out of his mouth that he wanted to tell. Stiles didn't know why he couldn't tell anyone anything. Every time he was determined, every time he was willing to tell even his own shameful weakness and what he had allowed to happen. Ready to admit that he had succumbed to Nogitsune, let him into not only his mind, but into his body as well, and in the dirtiest sense of that expression. But despite his willingness and determination, he can't tell: his tongue fails him at the very last moment, his thoughts get muddled, and what comes out is not warnings and confessions but meaningless, mundane nonsense that Scott/Lydia/Ellison listen to with either gentle irritation or the tired indifference of busy schoolchildren. Maybe it's Nogitsune's magic. Maybe it's Stiles just doesn't have the guts to admit that he's a weak idiot who let a fox in, let himself get fucked, and feels better than usual afterward, which shouldn't be the case. In any case, telling someone, sharing his problems, warning them of possible danger, confessing to a crime he's committed doesn't work. It's so insignificant, so pathetic, it makes you sick. - You're worth more than all the despicable people in this town. Stiles doesn't flinch anymore. He habitually ignores the retort playing in his head and smiles, looking at a relaxed, contented Scott smiling because of his good grade. Stiles tries to show with tired, frightened eyes or a desperate curve of his lips that he needs help. That he needs to be saved, that Noshiko was right and now he should be killed before Nogitsune takes more drastic action that will harm not only Stiles but everyone around him. It doesn't work. Scott is too used to relying on his sniff, and the scent tells him that Stiles smells peace and mirth, with the odor of bandages and wool mixed in with it. The smell of Nogitsune, which has been too much like Stiles himself lately because of the bandages he's been hiding his scars with. The expressive face is unsettling, but Stiles is in no hurry to share his concerns, and the scent is still as calm. So Scott only asks: - Is everything okay? And is satisfied with an affirmative nod. "I'm not okay, Scotty. I need you to get it out of me, because sometimes I think I want to leave the monster in my head where it is, forever. I need you to save me." Scott doesn't understand. Stiles locks himself in the bathroom, ignoring the disgruntled banging on the wooden door and the grumbling of some strange guys, and stares at himself in the mirror, resting his hands on the sink. The reflection doesn't play tricks on him and remains perfectly normal, but it only drives Stiles into a bright, bitter rage. He knows Nogitsune is there. He's there and he doesn't show it to him, taunting him and trying to drive him crazy. Still. - Show yourself! Nogitsune doesn't appear, but a chuckle is heard in his head. - Don't be mad, foxy. I'll never hurt you, remember? - A relaxed, lingering purr is heard in the voice, and Stiles is fleetingly surprised: "can foxes make sounds like that?" - You're safe with me. He holds back a hysterical laugh. Nogitsune scares him to shaking knees, even if it brings with it a kind of unnatural, artificial peace that hasn't left him since that infamous night after which he woke up in bed alone. Stiles doesn't want to admit that he's offended by it. - You've already - Stiles swallows, covering his eyes and swallowing hard. The scar on his neck is gone and life is easier, but Stiles hates the pristine skin, decorated not with scars but with hickeys and bites. - already did. There's silence in his head. Stiles doesn't know why the fox is silent, but the silence rings out and seems tense. He bites his knuckles, holding himself back from an inappropriate laugh, a desperate scream, tears of fear, a nervous monologue - he doesn't know what he'd do right now, but he doesn't want to check. He feels like he's dying and being born at the same time. He feels bad and so damn good. Breathing is freer, but there's a weight on his shoulders. Paranoia prevents him from breathing, stiffens his arms and legs, but his stupid body responds to every ghostly touch from Nogitsune. It seemed unthinkable to even think that the fox's presence was welcome, but even more unthinkable was the prospect of getting rid of the spirit. He's bewitched me, Stiles convinced himself, looking in the mirror and noting his wild look. He saw no other reason for his mad impulses. - When? - Nogitsune asks seriously and a little confused, and Stiles is distantly surprised at the tension in his voice. It's like he doesn't... realize the effect he's having on Stiles. How sick, scared, hurt he is by the fox's proximity, by his actions, by the uncertainty. Stiles licks his lips, calming down and regaining some semblance of confidence. He imagines that Nogitsune cares, which is funny, but... suddenly? - Always. When you stand in the corner of my room, lurking in the shadows. When you touch me, even when I'm against it. When you tell me something no one else can hear. When you get in the way of telling others. - He doesn't lie because he doesn't see the point in lying. Nogitsune scares him, having long ago made him flinch at any rustle. - Always. Nogitsune seems to seriously consider his words, but eventually snaps back, hiding a vulnerability he never knew existed before: - I cured you, Stiles. I was exceptionally patient and never hurt you. And you felt good that time. Stiles recalls again the disappearing scars, the absence of which was not so easy to explain to his friends. Shamefully, he thought of how he'd snuggled up to the fox after the best - and let's be honest, only - sex of his life. He remembers listening to Nogitsune's quietly whispered stories, staring up at the ceiling, fighting sleep for the thrilling denouement. But Nogitsune's words have only convinced Stiles that the fox really doesn't understand the effect he has on Stiles. Or pretends not to. - You... I don't understand, - Stiles ventured to explain. - Tell me why you need me. You keep saying I'm yours, making meaningless promises, but I don't understand why. - His voice didn't waver, something Stiles was proud of. It seemed to him that the fox inside him had quieted down, become smaller and unnoticeable. - Tell me what you want. You're doing this for a reason. And you scare me. - You'll understand in time. Understand and accept. - The void that had taken on materiality stroked weightlessly across his cheek. Stiles didn't react to the touch, continuing to stand still and stare into the mirror, accustomed to the unexpected, unceremonious touch. - I read your mind, foxy. And I know what you fear. But those are groundless worries, forget about them. My heart was racing inside, beating wildly, wanting, it seemed, to burst out. Stiles' lips quivered at the thought of having to fight the fox for the rest of his life. Nogitsune clearly had no intention of leaving him in the next century, enjoying his game too much, the rules of which were known solely to him. What did he want? Nogitsune was a killer, and the worst kind of killer: one who killed out of boredom, not caring about feelings and enjoying the pain he inflicted. He was a mad anarchist, a devotee of destruction and struggle, with trails of suffering and agony, stains of blood and tears. Nogitsune was the one the other kitsune had turned their backs on. The one they fled in terror and looked upon with fear. The one who sang something in Japanese in the evenings, leaning close to his ear and gently ruffling his hair. Stiles groaned, hating the fact that he'd even considered that Nogitsune might have good intentions. The fox knew how to fool, it was worth remembering that. Even if sometimes you wanted to believe it until you cried, hiding in the safe embrace of strong arms. - We all have it, but no one can lose it. What is it, little fox? - Nogitsune asked quietly, rolling the words around in his mouth as if tasting them. Stiles thought for a minute, another, not wanting to argue now. He shook his head, giving up and curving his lips in frustration. - I don't know. - Everyone has it, but no one can lose it, - the fox repeated more insistently, breaking into a guttural murmur. Stiles tapped his palm on the sink irritably, ignoring the muffled flash of pain that followed. - I told you I don't know! - He tangled his hands in his hair, yanked so hard that tears spurted from his eyes, and turned away from the mirror, staring at the tile. - Everyone has it, but no one can lose it. - Nogitsune still didn't raise his voice, and he spoke so slowly and heartfelt that one couldn't help but think the answer was important. Why and to whom - it didn't matter. Stiles took a breath, calming down. He could solve the mystery if it would help him in some way, reveal the reason Nogitsune was pursuing him without doing anything more devastating than... rape. Or sex with highly questionable consent? Stiles decided not to get hung up on labels. - It's... - Stiles mentally went through the options. A name, a face. No, maybe a reflection, but... Stiles licked his lips. - It's a shadow. - Right, - he said, a hint of pride in his voice. The fox's approval suddenly gave Stiles a blush of contentment that he tried to shake off. - Now think again, little fox: can you get rid of the shadow? - His voice crept under his skin, sending goosebumps down his spine and scruff. Stiles shivered and ran a hand over his face, shaking off the daze he'd been in for most of the conversation. - You said it yourself: no one can lose this. - His quiet voice echoed off the clean white tiled walls. Nogitsune hummed in agreement and stroked his shoulders, squeezing a little harder at the base of his neck. Stilinski instantly, almost reflexively, relaxed, surrendering to the pleasant touch. - Then what makes you think you have the power to get rid of me? Stiles froze when he heard the mocking question. His insides twisted in a spasm, his throat constricted, preventing him from taking a breath. His chest felt like a heavy stone had been placed on top of it, and Stiles swayed, his arm outstretched and resting against the wall. He couldn't breathe. - I will never leave you, little fox. I'll be more faithful than your shadow, keeping you safe. - An invisible hand stroked his head, helped him to the floor and leaned his back against the wall. Stiles smothered a quiet, strangled sound that even he couldn't understand, as he rested his head against someone else's chest, covering his eyes and concentrating on Nogitsune's voice that kept whispering promises to him. - Together we will repay anyone who dares to disturb us. I will protect you. And, - the fox paused, giving his next words significance, - I will never hurt anyone you care about. If you want me to. - The last sentences were clearly not easy for Nogitsune and were an offer of cooperation and a flag of peace. Stiles slowly pulled away and unbelievingly looked around with his eyes presumably where Nogitsune should be, who still hadn't appeared, still invisible to the eye. Struggling to move his tongue, he asked, tensely and disbelievingly: - You're not lying? The fox jumped up indignantly: - I am Nogitsune, Stiles. A trickster, not a deceiver. - His harsh tone made it clear that even the suggestion of such a thing was offensive to him. Stiles nodded, accepting that. He suddenly calmed down almost completely, squeezing out a smile. He had feared for his loved ones when he realized who was after him. Resisted the spirit with all his might, though his whole self was drawn to it, no matter how much he tried to deny it. He had turned his back on the fox because of his love for his friends and his father. And now he could give up. - Now what? - Stiles exhaled, as if dropping a huge stone from his shoulders. It was hard to refuse Nogitsune, but it was easy and pleasant to accept, despite the worm of doubt gnawing at him. - You must perform a small ritual to confirm that you have accepted me, fox. - Stiles nodded thoughtfully, imagining a blood-stained ancient altar, a murdered girl, certainly a virgin, a circle of candles and a pentagram with complex runes. The void beside him emitted a quiet, amused chuckle. - What a vivid fantasy. All you have to do is cut your palm. No virgins. - Nogitsune emphasized the last two words and hushed him meaningfully, a smirk in his voice. Stiles opened his mouth in indignation and instantly blushed when he got the hint. - Just shut up! Jesus. - He would have made a joke himself about finally losing his virginity if he could have told Scott about it, but hearing something like that from Nogitsune was... weird. It felt like flirting. And Stiles couldn't decide if he liked it or was intimidated by it. Nogitsune's loud laughter brought an awkward, shaky smile. Stiles tried to arch his eyebrows angrily, but after another failed attempt, he gave it up, knowing full well that the fox could read his mind and not fool him with anything. Instead, he laughed softly too, feeling the tight lump in his chest slowly disappear, replaced by lightness and some good, bright feeling. It's too fast. This is happening too fast, why are you so calm, Stiles? - Are we going to do this now or do you want to wait? - Nogitsune stopped laughing and took his hands, squeezing them gently and running his thumbs over his palms. Stiles looked around the empty school restroom, clean and cold. They'd stopped banging on the door a few minutes ago, apparently deciding it would be easier to find another restroom than to get this one to open. Better get this over with soon, before Nogitsune changed his mind about his father and the pack. - First, swear you won't hurt my friends or my father. - And was an oath enough? Take the spirit of chaos at his word? Trust in its nobility? Was Stiles out of his mind to trust a fox? - They wound without moving. They poison without touching. They can bring both lies and truth. And it's up to you to believe them or not. What's this about, Stiles? - Nogitsune weightlessly ran the back of his hand over his cheek. This time Stiles answered without thinking. - About the words. It's... about words. - He reached for the touch, but Nogitsune withdrew his hand and grinned contentedly when he heard a protesting sound. - And it's up to you to decide whose words to believe, little fox. - He leaned over and ran his nose over the teenager's temple with pleasure, inhaling the scent of his future companion. - My kind never breaks promises. I will lose one of my tails if I dare go against the oath I made to you. Stiles squirmed with impatience and excitement. He knew intuitively that the fox was not lying. He felt Nogitsune at the edges of his consciousness, sensed his emotions. And he was sure that if he concentrated and dug deeper, he would be able to read the thoughts of others, which were passing by in a blurry stream. They were indeed as one. Stiles knew that Nogitsune was excited and pleased. Anticipation, excitement, and joy radiated from him. Also, the commanding voice seemed to whisper in his ear every second, "mine, mine, mine." As a human, Stiles wanted to resent it: he was not a thing! But as Nogitsune's chosen one, all he wanted to do was shout "yes!". Stiles ruthlessly crushed the weaker part of himself that wanted to obey the spirit in everything, and nodded decisively. - Good. I believe you. - He tried to put his hand on the back of the other man's head - Nogitsune was still resting his nose against his temple - but his palm went all the way through, and the sense of touch was gone. Why that happened, Stiles didn't know: only a few minutes ago he had been resting his nose against the fox's chest and it hadn't disappeared. Perhaps it was hard for the spirit to keep bodily form for long. Though he certainly didn't complain of fatigue during sex. - Now make a promise. Silence reigned in the room for a moment.       - I promise I won't hurt anyone you care about, Stiles. Those you love and cherish. I won't kill them or permanently maim them if you join me. Tsuzurao nogitsune no kotoba.       His serious tone and the solemnity with which he said the oath elicited a surprised sigh. Stiles tried to stare into the void, but he still saw nothing. The spirit's promise added to his enthusiasm: Stiles wanted to repay the gesture, albeit reluctantly. He stood up slowly, his legs numb from sitting so long, and walked to his backpack, rummaging through it for something sharp. After five minutes of searching, he was already looking at the ruler, calculating whether the blunt plastic sides could tear through the skin. Deciding not to take any chances, Stiles tossed the ruler aside and pulled out a circlet, exposing the part that held the device in place and defined the center of the circle to be drawn. The needle was quite sharp and thin. It was much easier to cut with it than with a ruler. - How deep do you need to go? - He was a little scared, the setting was like another ritual that Stiles hadn't been lucky enough to be a part of. At least now he wouldn't be drowned in an ice bath. - Just bleed. It doesn't matter how much, foxy. - Nogitsune was almost shaking with anticipation, watching Stilinski's actions with rapt attention. Stiles sat down again, leaning against the cold wall and suddenly regretting the jeans he'd used to wipe the floor of the restroom. He took a calming breath and, without giving himself time to think, jabbed the centimeter needle into his palm, closer to his thumb. The jab of pain elicited a quiet hiss. Stiles bit his lip, holding back any sound, and pulled the circlet out, realizing he'd pierced his hand too deeply. Thick blood was slowly collecting in the cup of his palm. The teen tried to collect as much of it as he could, fearing that there wouldn't be enough blood after all, despite Nogitsune's assurances that it wasn't a big deal. He subconsciously wanted to do everything perfectly and on the first try. Nogitsune soothingly yet encouragingly stroked his cheek and took the injured palm in his own in a sort of handshake. There was more moisture, and Stiles realized that the fox had slithered into his palm too, mixing their blood. AIDS lessons came to mind, and Stiles chuckled inappropriately. It wasn't HIV he was going to catch now, but a thousand-year-old spirit. - Now repeat after me.- Stiles nodded, suddenly agitated with renewed vigor. But the fox didn't stop, ignoring the teenager's nervous state. - 'Come on, little fox. I let you in and promise not to let you go. - I let you in and promise not to let you go. - Stiles squeezed his palm harder, realizing with fear that this was forever. Never again would he get rid of the spirit, even if he wanted to. The oath bound them forever. There would be no backtracking, no retracting his words and apologizing and walking away. Was it worth it? Should they put themselves at Nogitsune's mercy? Terror clutched at his insides with clammy fingers, but Stiles pressed his trembling lips together stubbornly. If Stiles's well-being was the price to pay for the safety of his father, Scott, Melissa, and Lydia, he was willing to pay it. - I'll be with you now and always. Stiles swallowed, his mouth dry. It was like a wedding vow, Stiles thought suddenly, and the thought cheered him up. - I'll be with you now and always. - We vow to be whole and united. Stiles hesitated, squeezing the other man's hand to a sharp pain. That would be final, with no way to go back and fix anything. Say those words, and never again would he be able to rid himself of Nogitsune... Never again would he be alone. - We vow to be whole and united. - the "we" rolled off his tongue easily and naturally. As he spoke the last word, Stiles felt a strong heat in his palm, spreading to his wrist, forearm, and shoulder. Soon it engulfed his entire body, burning him from the inside out and making him scream. Liquid flames flowed through his veins, scorching his organs, twisting his limbs in agony. The fire beneath his skin grew, stinging harder and sharper. Stiles pressed his hands to his face, wanting to escape the all-consuming heat. The skin seemed to tear away in shreds, exposing muscle and unprotected flesh, turning bones to ash, twisting nerves to convulsive spasms of agony. For the first time, he actually felt sorry for Peter, who had experienced something like this twice. A cold palm pulled his hands away from his face. With a groan, Stiles followed the coolness, grasping the limb with both hands and pulling it to his cheek. A chill radiated from the point of contact, saving him from the devastating fire. The other palm rested on his lower back and pulled, pressing him against the same cool body. Stiles relaxed, giving into the sensation. He was so relieved that he forgot who he was with and where he was. When he remembered, he pulled away slowly, with barely contained curiosity, and stared at the t-shirt - the one Stiles had worn this morning - covering his chest. Licking his lips, Stiles loosened the iron embrace he'd placed on the body across from him and slowly ran his palms down the other man's back. Now that the fever had subsided, interest lifted his head, wanting to know what would happen now. What their vow would entail. Had he been more circumspect and less exhausted, he would have wondered this before the ritual. - We don't like to be in the dark, - the voice above Stiles's head said thoughtfully, as if he'd learned something new. With some sixth sense, Stiles realized that the fox meant both himself and Stiles, but not just as something similar, but as a whole. The teen slowly pulled away, looking into the spirit's face. His exact copy, his half, his integral part. They were so content. - We don't like to wait, - Stiles returned to Nogitsune and grinned in a way he had never grinned before. Wide and a little crazy, revealing corners of himself safely hidden and long forgotten. There was no more "I" and "you." There was only "we." - We don't like to be bored. - Fox leaned a little closer, resting his hands on the wall next to Stiles' head. Their noses were almost touching. - We don't like to be scared. - Stiles impatiently cupped his palms around the stranger's face, pressing his thumbs against his lower jaw. - We don't like to be weak. - Nogitsune stopped a millimeter from his lips, ran a hand through his hair and pulled his head back, exposing his neck. Hot breath scorched his chin. - We don't like...being alone. - Stiles couldn't bear it and pressed his own lips against the man's, moaning at the sensations that overwhelmed him. Nogitsune responded with animalistic enthusiasm. It was far from a pretty kiss. They clashed teeth, bit each other's lips to pinching wounds, bumped noses awkwardly, and pressed into each other with such force that it hurt. It wasn't pretty, but it was perfect. The feeling of rightness, of togetherness, of euphoria... Stiles struggled to tear himself away from such, such sweet lips and nestled his nose into his chest, which was heaving despite the dizzying kiss. - We will never be alone again. Nogitsune let out a low chuckle and rubbed his cheek against Stiles' hair, savoring the scent of his boy. - Yes. - He hugged the treasure in his arms tighter. - That's right. Stiles smiled and was about to make a joke about how ridiculously dramatic it all sounded when a hellish pain shot through his head. Tears spurted from his eyes and he cried out, curling up in a ball and ignoring the soothing whispers and slow strokes. It was worse than Gerard's beatings, worse than the numbness and muscle fatigue he'd felt in that pool where he'd held Derek, worse than the pain that had stitched through him from the inside when his mom had screamed that it was Stiles who wanted her dead, worse than the fire that had consumed him just minutes ago. It was worse than anything he'd known in his entire human life. But it was quite comparable to Inari's divinity taken away and the all-consuming agony that followed. It was a pain similar to the pain they had felt while starving to death in the roots of the Nemeton. It was like the suffering they absorbed and stored inside, satiated only by it and nothing else. Stiles hooked his fingers into his head, trying to take the pain away, to make it go away, because getting used to it wasn't working. But Nogitsune felt the pain all the time. It was part of him, his essence. And if Stiles wanted to merge with him fully, he had to learn to tolerate it. Flashes of memories, pictures and voices flashed before his eyes. Stiles saw and felt so much that he was close to passing out. Jakan and Reiko bristled furiously after hearing him make a wicked joke about the pointlessness of Inari's last order. Kitsune slowly raised his hands in a feigned gesture of defeat and grinned. He's a trickster, he can be allowed a little mischief.... Thunder rumbles, marking his banishment. Inari does not turn around, bidding him farewell. She robs him of her gaze and a voice in her head whispers, commanding and disappointed, "You are no longer a kitsune, fox. You are not worthy of my light. You are too wild." A hunger, previously unknown and unquenchable, eats away at him from the inside, raging and demanding to be quenched. But he is a kitsune, it is not in his nature to kill. He can't, he can't, he can't.... Blood drips from clawed palms, a smirk adorns his face and Nogitsune stares up at the earthly sky, sending curses to Inari. They are free, they have become great, they have become better. People, people, people - they're everywhere and they're so pathetic... They step over another corpse, looking around the clearing filled with death. They feel like they're home - so used to being among the dead and maimed... Stiles collapses with a groan, unable to digest so much information at once. Thousands of years of life in his head were tearing it up from the inside out. Nogitsune picked up his newfound companion for the next eternity and hurried out of the room, grabbing Stiles' backpack on the way. They needed to find a more secure location. The fox muffled the young man's scream, but someone could walk in here literally at any second. Nogitsune held Stiles gently, running his thumb gently over his cheek. In hundreds of years, he had never protected anyone like that. Not even Inari and the Kitsune brothers were so important to him, so close.... The door closed with a quiet click, leaving the room empty. And only a bloody circlet and a few drops of blood on the floor testified to what had happened here.

***

      - Now we have to eat, foxy. Stiles nods thoughtlessly, barely aware of what he's doing. Centuries of memories, feelings, sensations pressed against his mind in a monolithic slab, dislodging it and preventing him from thinking. He tilts his head to the side, in a gesture both familiar and completely foreign to him, trying to grasp the disturbing thought that flickers at the edge of his overloaded mind, tantalizingly elusive and disturbing. - We're hungry. Stiles nods in agreement. - We're hungry, - the teenager repeats after the fox, rubbing his right cheek. He gets up from the old bench at the back of the school, where Nogitsune had taken his senseless body to hide from prying eyes. "Otherwise those eyes would have to be plucked out," Stiles thought lazily and then froze. Something in his thoughts was wrong. But what? Stiles analyzes everything he's been thinking about for the past few minutes and frowns perplexed. It's all right. It seems the same as it always has. - We're going to eat, - the fox nudges gently, bringing Stiles out of his daze. He stands a little behind and stays out of sight. - We're going to kill, - Stiles nodded and quickened his pace, feeling a deep, soul-scraping hunger that turned him inside out, prevented him from breathing freely, made him manic with the urge to get rid of his hunger for something to eat. - Why are we... Why is this... - We haven't eaten in a long time, foxy. We've been locked up for seventy years. Stiles nods, quickening his step. His mind is a jumble of thoughts, a jumble of incomprehensible scraps, confusing, annoying.       He is basking in the rays of the most beautiful of creatures, catching the glare with his eyes and smiling-smiling-smiling-smiling... Looking at his reflection in the bloody dagger, afraid to raise his eyes to his first victim and tasting the pain with fear, quenching the hunger he had never known before... Laughing, dancing with the katana in his hand and leaving dozens and hundreds of victims after each movement, satiating himself and becoming stronger, more powerful.... Laughs as he watches Inari's face contorted with surprise, anger and fear, cradling the nine tails that they dared to steal from him and which he managed to take back... Chuckles as he watches mortals century after century, tasting not only their delicious pain, but also chaos, fear, despair, sadness... Sits on a wide windowsill, looking at the earthly sky, beyond which there is really no Paradise, and feeling inexplicable - for the first time regretting that he is the Void, that feelings are alien to him, that he cannot know anything but the pain absorbed from others.... - We have to eat, Stiles. - Stiles nods, trying with all his might to ward off the overwhelming revelations, the knocking down memories, the twisting of his insides into a knot of feelings. - Who are we gonna kill? - We'll kill... We'll kill... - Stiles hesitated, trying to calculate who would be the most suitable victim. "Not at school. Not in a police station. Not in a hospital," Stiles immediately dismisses. And then wonders why. Why not at school? It's a nice place. Human. Crawling with mortals to kill, to eat, to satisfy hunger, to become strong... So strong that even Scott, with his werewolf powers, couldn't.... Scott. Stiles stops and immediately falls to his knees, wrapping his arms around himself and trying to keep from shivering. Scott's at school. At the station, Dad. At the hospital, Melissa. They can't be killed. Stiles thinks for a second and shakes his head, holding back sobs. No one should be killed. Killing is bad. Scott would be so upset if he found out. But I'm so hungry. - We have to eat, fox, - Nogitsune's voice comes through the fog in his head. Stiles nods, realizing that they cannot endure this terrible feeling of all-encompassing hunger for all eternity. - We must eat, but we will not kill. - Stiles tries to say it firmly, ignoring the fact that everything is swimming before his eyes. There is a clear wave of discontent and fatigue on the fox's part, but Stiles holds firmly to his words, knowing that in his current state he is willing to kill to suppress his hunger, but he wouldn't want to. And if he didn't want to do it, that must mean something. - We could go to the hospital, - the fox reluctantly agreed, and the faces of the dozens of people who were there and in pain all the time flashed through his mind. Pain that could be eaten. - Away from Melissa, - Stiles mumbles with the last of his strength, agreeing to this plan of action and closing his eyelids that seemed to weigh a ton. - Of course, sweetie. - Before he loses consciousness the young man feels Nogitsune's hand enter his body, making them one again and keeping him from falling. - I'll take care of you. Stiles doesn't even doubt it.