[ look ! i'm in love with derek hale. out of all my fictional crushes, he's probably my favorite except for maybe klaus from tvd/to. but i am a WHORE for void stiles.

so, my bad if you don't care for him, but he's about to cause so many problems this season between willow and derek. the manipulation as well as effect that the nogitsune has on willow's abilities are gonna cause so much drama.

and i'm aware that the nogitsune doesn't really control him until he gets electrified, but i'm changing that. the scattered moments of control and stiles doing/saying things that stiles would never do/say start now!

also, this chapter's pretty long even tho derek's not in it ]

☽︎

he'd kill me if he knew i felt like this. you can't tell him.

[ 3.13 — 3.14 ]

It was admittedly a little too late for Willow to still be awake given that it was a school night. But it couldn't be helped as worry and anxiety crept through her mind.

When Derek left to take Cora and Boyd to South America, he had kissed Willow sweetly and promised to be back in a week's time. But it was now three days past a week, and she hadn't heard from him in two. Call her paranoid, but after everything with the alpha pack and Jennifer and losing her father, Willow couldn't help but worry.

She stared at her silent phone on the nightstand, willing for Derek — or even Peter — to text or call to let her know they were back in California. That they were safe.

Willow hadn't voiced her concerns about the whereabouts of the two Hales to the rest of the pack. Everyone was still dealing with the fallout of what had happened, mainly Scott, Allison, and Stiles.

None of the three talked about the process of dying and coming back to find their parents. They didn't tell the others that something was wrong with them — that the darkness Deaton warned them of was rearing its horrifying head.

But Willow knew. She knew Scott like the back of her hand, and that meant she knew he was having trouble with his control. Though she and Allison still weren't as close as before, she could see the haunted look on her face and noticed the way her hands would tremble in class.

As for Stiles, well—

A hysterical, agonizing scream sounded through the Stilinski household, cutting through the silence of the night like a sharp blade. Willow was off her bed in a second, booking it to Stiles' bedroom, only half a step behind Noah. Scribbles was the quickest, making it there first.

Both Willow and Noah, unfortunately, were getting used to this near-nightly occurrence.

Stiles was thrashing violently in his bed, desperate to wake from the night terror that was plaguing his mind. Noah wrapped his arms tightly around Stiles to keep him from hitting anything, speaking in a level, quiet tone to try and calm Stiles down.

"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay. It's okay," Noah said, keeping him still. "You're okay."

It took several moments for him to stop screaming, and even then, he couldn't stop shaking. Willow sat in front of him on the bed and placed her hands on his cheeks softly. Noah nodded to her, signaling for her to go on.

Willow sent calming waves of affection toward Stiles, just enough to even out his breathing and ease him out of the panic attack. Once he could breathe properly and move on his own, Noah slowly let him go.

"You're okay," Willow whispered to Stiles. The soft pink glow of her eyes brought Stiles a familiar type of comfort — comfort he had been clinging to for the past week and a half. "You're okay."

"I - I'm okay," he repeated, taking more deep breaths. "Just - just a nightmare."

It took some convincing to get Noah to go back to bed, but only after Stiles agreed to let Willow stay with him through the rest of the night did he retire to his room. As Willow laid next to Stiles under the blanket, she studied the terrified look on his face.

She knew exactly what he was thinking as the only one he chose to confide in about not always knowing when he was awake or asleep.

"Count your fingers, Sti," Willow told him gently.

She took both his hands that had been laying on the comforter and held them up. Just as Derek counted stars with Willow, she counted fingers with Stiles. And when he reached the tenth and final one, Willow squeezed his hand comfortingly.

"You're awake," Willow whispered.

Stiles nodded, not taking his eyes off her. "I'm awake."

☽︎

When morning came, Willow was reluctant to even leave Stiles just to get ready for the day. But she let him have some time to himself while she showered and got dressed for school.

As Noah passed her open door, he smile seeing her pick out a pink headband to match her skirt. Then he knocked on the doorframe quietly to get her attention.

"Morning, Sheriff Stilinski," she greeted, grabbing her backpack that already had her homework from the day before tucked neatly inside.

"How many times have I said to call me Noah?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'll work on it," Willow said, managing a smile. "And I put the water bill payment with the morning paper if you haven't seen it yet."

"I've got it. Don't worry."

Given Willow's abundance of family money that had all been transferred to her, she insisted on helping out financially around the house. However, Noah put up quite a fight, not thinking it should be her responsibility.

Willow hadn't won her arguments about why she should help with the grocery budget or the electricity bill or even just a flat rate rent payment. But after Noah realized she took a morning and night shower — incredibly long ones compared to him and Stiles who were both in and out — he caved and let her shell out money for the water bill.

It helped Willow feel like she was contributing to the household and not just living under his roof as an orphan that burdened him financially.

"I wanted to say thank you for staying with him last night," Noah told Willow, thinking back on Stiles' fit that happened only a handful of hours earlier. "He always seems to go back to sleep a little quicker when it's you instead of me."

"I don't mind. I just want him to get a good night of rest. He's been so exhausted," Willow said. She frowned as she thought of the dark purple bruises that had begun to appear under his eyes.

"Is he - I mean, do you think he'll be okay?" Noah asked, clearly worried that this would continue.

"He will be," she said, not a doubt in her mind. She and the rest of the pack would go to the ends of the earth to make sure Stiles, as well as Scott and Allison, found a way back to their old selves. "But until then, we just need to be there for him to lean on."

Noah nodded in understanding, glad that Willow could calm not only Stiles' fears but his as well. "Better go drag him out of his room for school. Wouldn't want to be late because of him."

"Oh, he'd never dare make me late for school," she declared, getting the rest of her things and leaving her room.

As Noah was going in the same direction, she followed behind him until they reached Stiles' room. He was dressed and ready to go but seemed to be staring down at his history textbook with a confused — or rather, worried — look.

"Hey. You all right?" Noah asked. Stiles quickly looked away from the book, breaking whatever trance he was in. "You ready for school?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," Stiles assured him. Then he saw the concerned look on Noah's face, knowing it was about what happened last night. "Dad, seriously, I'm fine. It was just a nightmare."

To get the focus off him, Stiles nodded to the cardboard box in Noah's hand. Willow hadn't paid much attention to it, figuring that it was just for work.

"What's that?" Stiles asked.

"That's just, uh, files from the office," Noah muttered, not going into detail.

"It says 'Sheriff's station, do not remove,'" he noted, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah, unless you're the Sheriff," Noah said a bit defensively. So, it was definitely a box he wasn't meant to remove.

"Oh," was all Stiles mumbled. Then he shot a look to Willow, who could tell he wanted to snoop some more.

"Now get your butt to school, all right?" Noah ordered.

"I'll drive," Willow said, walking up to Stiles as Noah wandered off. "You're far too sleepy, and we can't risk you wrecking Roscoe."

Stiles managed a tired smile before nudging Willow's shoulder, leading her back out of the room. "You know, I appreciate how you're the only one to use that name."

☽︎

Stiles didn't say much on the way to school. Willow knew he didn't want to talk about his nightmare, so she didn't question him about it. After arriving, the pair headed toward the entrance.

However, they were deterred when they spotted Scott outside. He was running down the stairs, a scared expression on his face. He was staring down at his shadow, seemingly running from it even though it was a standard shadow.

"Hey," Stiles called, rushing over to Scott and grabbing his arms. Scott took in a deep breath and looked at them with wide eyes. "Hey, you all right? You don't look all right, Scott."

"I'm okay," Scott said, obviously lying.

"No, you're not. It's happening to you too," Stiles muttered. "You're seeing things, aren't you?"

"How'd you know?" he asked. They all thought they had been hiding it so well, but now it was bad enough that they were all noticing.

"Because it's happening to all three of you," Lydia declared, coming up to the trio. Allison was with her, a haunted look on her face. Clearly, something had happened to her before school as well.

Stiles, Scott, and Allison gave abbreviated versions of what was going on with them. Willow noted that Stiles hadn't included his inability to tell when he was dreaming or not, but wasn't going to force him to share that. And by the time they were finished, Lydia had a smug smile on her face as the five of them walked through the hallway.

"Well, well, look who's no longer the crazy one," Lydia said, holding off a laugh. Finally, she wasn't the only one seeing things that weren't there.

"We're not crazy," Allison said defensively.

"Hallucinating? Sleep paralysis? Yeah, you guys are fine," she said sarcastically.

"We did die and come back to life. That's gotta have some side effects, right?" Scott asked as the bell rang, signaling that it was time to go to class.

"We keep an eye on each other. Okay? And if any of us needs calming down, we have Willow," Stiles said, glancing at the girl. Then he saw that Lydia still had that smug smile on her face. "And Lydia, stop enjoying this so much."

"What?" Lydia asked innocently.

Willow chuckled and kissed Lydia on the cheek. "I'll see you in AP physics."

While Lydia and Allison went to their art class, Willow followed Scott and Stiles to history. Given that their old teacher had been ritually sacrificed, they had been learning from a substitute. But it seemed the replacement teacher had finally been hired.

"Good morning, everyone. My name is Mr. Yukimura. I'll be taking over for your previous History Teacher. My family and I moved here three weeks ago. I'm sure, by now, you all know my daughter, Kira. Or you might not since she's never actually mentioned anyone from school. Or brought a friend home for that matter."

The sound of someone dropping their head on a desk and sighing in embarrassment filled the room. A few people snickered while looking at the girl in the back row.

"Either way, there she is. Now, let's begin with American History at the turn of the 20th century," Mr. Yukimura said, beginning his lecture.

As Kira raised her head, most everyone had turned back around. But Willow caught her eye and offered a small, welcoming smile before paying attention to the class. While she pulled out her glitter gel pens, Scott continued to stare at Kira with an adorable grin on his face, finding the new girl incredibly pretty. But as soon as Kira noticed his stare, he blushed and turned back around.

Willow liked Mr. Yukimura and his teaching style. By the time the bell rang, she was confident that he would be one of her favorite teachers — second to Coach Finstock, of course.

Stiles and Scott left the room quickly, but Willow stayed behind. Kira was looking at the ground as Willow approached, but looked up with wide eyes when she saw someone's feet in front of her.

"Hi, I just wanted to introduce myself," Willow said, smiling. "I'm Willow Worthington."

"Kira — which you already knew," she said with pink cheeks.

"Nice to meet you. I've got to run and get my economics book, but I think we have a few other classes together, so I'll see you in those. And maybe you could join me and my friends at lunch one day," she offered. There wasn't much time in between classes to get to know each other. "Oh! And I totally love your skirt."

"I love yours too," Kira said, chuckling. Kira was wearing the exact same pleated skirt as Willow, only hers was black while the blonde's was a pastel pink color. "I'll see you around, Willow."

Pleased with her interaction with the new girl, Willow found Scott and Stiles by the lockers.

"Maybe we need a little more time to get back to normal," Scott told Stiles, who was dialing the combination on his locker.

"Yeah, try not to forget we hit the reset button on a supernatural beacon for supernatural creatures. There's a pretty good chance things are never going back to normal," Stiles told him, already assuming the worst.

"Yeah," he mumbled in agreement.

"What?" Stiles suddenly whispered under his breath.

Scott didn't notice, too busy listening in to the conversation that Kira was having with her father on the other side of the hallway. But Willow did. She looked from Stiles' face to the lock in his hands, which were frozen. It was then that she realized he couldn't read the numbers.

"I've got it," Willow said softly, taking the lock from his hands. Stiles stared at her as she quickly put in his combination so that he could get his books. Then she looked up at him — thankfully, not with pity. He couldn't handle a pitying look from Willow. "You're awake."

"I'm awake?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Willow nodded, and he sighed in relief, trusting her word. Then he glanced back at Scott, nervous that he overheard that interaction. But Scott had zoned out and his eyes were glowing red. "Oh, dude, your eyes!"

"What about them?" Scott asked, not understanding.

"They're starting to glow," Willow said, nervously looking around. They couldn't risk someone seeing.

"You mean like right now?" he asked in alarm.

"Yes, right now. Scott, stop. Stop it!" Stiles ordered.

"I can't," Scott said, breathing heavily. "I can't control it."

"All right, just keep your head down," Stiles said. He ended up shoving Scott's head toward the ground. "Look down, come on. Keep your head down."

They looked ridiculous as Stiles was practically wrapped around Scott while Willow led them down the hallway and into the empty history classroom. As soon as they were inside, Scott let out a low growl.

"Get away from me," Scott ordered, putting distance between himself and then.

"Scott, it's okay—"

"I don't know what's going to happen. Get back," Scott said, knocking into a desk. His fangs were bared as he suddenly dug his claws into his palms. Blood poured from the wounds and down his arms as Scott lowered to the ground, groaning in pain.

"Scott," Willow called quietly once his features returned to normal. Her eyes watered at the sight of him hurting himself to stay in control.

"Pain makes you human," Scott said, panting heavily.

Now that he was back to normal, Stiles and Willow kneeled in front of him.

"Scott, this isn't just in our heads," Stiles said. "This is real. And it's starting to get bad for me too. I'm not just having nightmares. I'm having dreams where I have to literally scream myself awake. And sometimes I'm not even sure if I'm actually ever waking up."

"What do you mean?" Scott asked. From the way that Willow held Stiles' hand, he realized she knew this already.

"Do you know how you can tell if you're dreaming? You can't read in dreams. More and more, the past few days, I've been having trouble reading. It's like I can't see the words. I can't put the letters in order," he admitted.

"Like even now?" Scott asked.

Stiles' eyes traveled to the chalkboard where Mr. Yukimura's notes were still written. And not a single word made sense in his mind.

"I can't read a thing."

☽︎

When the next day came, things got worse, particularly for Stiles. He was beginning to have dreams while he was still awake, one of which happened in the middle of economics class. While his mind was stuck in a strange dream, his hand repeatedly wrote "wake up" over and over in his notebook.

"Okay, so what happens to a person who has a near-death experience and comes out of it seeing things?" Scott asked. The pack was sitting at a picnic table outside and trying to figure out how to deal with all of this.

"And is unable to tell what's real or not?" Stiles added.

"And is being haunted by demonic visions of dead relatives?" Allison chimed in, who was seeing visions of Kate.

"They're all locked up because they're insane," Isaac replied. He only shrugged when the others gave him unimpressed looks.

"Ha," Stiles said flatly, not amused. "Can you at least try to be helpful, please?"

"For half my childhood, I was locked in a freezer," he reminded them. "So, being helpful is kind of a new thing for me."

"Hey, dude, are you still milking that?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

"Stiles," Willow said in a scolding tone. Just because he was exhausted and scared about what was happening to him didn't mean he could be mean to Isaac, especially about something so traumatic.

"Yeah, maybe I am still milking that," Issac muttered, smirking as Stiles scoffed.

Their conversation couldn't continue because they were interrupted by Kira coming over to them.

"Hi," she greeted hesitantly. "Hi, sorry. I couldn't help overhearing what you guys were talking about. And I think I actually might know what you're talking about. There's a Tibetan word for it. It's called "Bardo." It literally means "in-between state." The state between life and death."

Lydia narrowed her eyes at Kira suspiciously, wondering where someone so smart had come from. "And what do they call you?"

"Kira," Scott answered right away. He was looking up at her with a smile. "She's in our History class."

"So are you talking Bardo in Tibetan Buddhism or Indian?" Lydia asked, still keeping Kira under a scrutinizing gaze.

"Either, I guess," she said, shrugging. Willow scooted closer to Stiles, silently offering Kira the seat next to her at the table, which she took. "But all the stuff you guys were just saying? All that happens in Bardo. There are different progressive states where you can have hallucinations. Some you see, some you just hear. And you can be visited by peaceful and wrathful deities."

"Wrathful deities?" Isaac asked. "And what are those?"

"Like demons," she answered casually. Of course, she was casual. She had no idea all this was real.

"Demons. Why not?" Stiles muttered under his breath.

"Hold on, if there are different progressive states, then what's the last one?" Allison asked her.

"Death," Kira answered with a smile. "You die."

Of course, Willow thought, because there could never be good consequences to their actions.

☽︎

After school, Scott and Stiles went to the animal clinic to try and get some help from Deaton, and Willow tagged along. Stiles quickly explained the odd dream he had in economics, where everyone only spoke to him through sign language.

"It sounds like your subconscious is trying to communicate with you," Deaton said.

"Well, how do I tell my subconscious to use a language that I actually know?" Stiles asked, frustrated.

"Can you remember the movements of the hands?" Willow asked him. "I can translate if it's a specific message."

"You know sign language?" Scott asked in surprise.

"Scott, she knows Spanish, French, and Latin, but you're surprised by sign language?" Stiles asked, shaking his head.

"Really, it should be taught in all schools to make the world more accessible for the deaf and hard of hearing," Willow mumbled. Then she looked at Stiles. "Give it a shot."

Stiles nodded and then began trying to recreate the hand movements, speaking out loud to himself as he did. "Okay, the first one was like this. Then — and then there was this, twice. And this in-between it."

"When is a door not a door?" Willow asked, recognizing the riddle in the simple hand gestures.

"When is a door not a door?" Stiles repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"When it's ajar," Scott stated, knowing the answer.

Stiles scoffed in annoyance. "You're kidding me. A riddle? My subconscious wants to tell me a riddle?"

"Not necessarily," Deaton told him. "When the three of you went under the water, when you crossed from unconsciousness to a kind of super-consciousness, you essentially opened a door in your minds."

"So what does that mean? The door's still open for all of them?" Willow asked worriedly.

"Ajar," Deaton specified.

"A door into our minds?" Stiles asked, still trying to process it.

"I did tell you it was risky," Deaton said.

"What do we do about it?" Scott asked.

"Well, that's difficult to answer."

"Oh, no, wait a second, I know that look," Stiles muttered. "That's the 'we know exactly what's wrong with you but we have no idea how to fix it' look."

"One thing I do know is that having an opening like that into your mind, it's not good," Deaton warned. "You each need to close that door. And you need to do it as soon as possible."

"What happens if they don't close it fast enough?" Willow asked nervously.

"There's no telling what things could creep inside," Deaton said, a deep frown on his face. "If nothing has taken root already."

Feeling rather dejected by Deaton's advice, the trio left the animal clinic. Their heads were full of potential ways to close the doors, but nothing seemed plausible. How could you close something that you couldn't see or touch?

Their pondering was interrupted when Noah pulled up in the cruiser, stopping them from leaving.

"Dad, what are you doing here?" Stiles asked as Noah walked up to them.

"I'm here because I could use some help," he said. Then he pointed to Scott. "Actually, your help."

"Why me?" Scott asked.

"Because eight years ago, almost an entire family died in a car accident. One of the bodies, a young girl named Malia, was never found," he explained. "There's enough evidence to have me thinking that - that a werewolf could have caused the accident, and then dragged her body away. If you could somehow get a lock on her scent — if you could somehow help me find her body — it might provide the missing clue."

"But what if it was a werewolf?" Stiles asked. He didn't want to see his father get hurt. Especially so soon after Willow's father was killed.

"Well, there's somebody out there who murdered an entire family," Noah said, not fearing a potential werewolf killer. "Someone who still needs to be caught."

☽︎

Willow, against Stiles and Scott's pleading, was not going to break into Mr. Tate's house with them. She sat in the backseat of the jeep and waited for them, keeping an eye on the house. While the boys snuck in through the back, Noah kept Mr. Tate distracted at the front of the house.

She gave it five minutes before the boys ran out to avoid being caught.

To keep herself occupied, Willow dialed a familiar number and sighed heavily when she got the answering machine.

"Hey, Derek," she greeted softly, wishing that she was talking to him instead of his voicemail. "It's, um, it's been four days. And I'm really scared that you're, like, chained up in some basement being tortured by the ghost of Kate Argent. So please just call me or text to let me know you're alive. Please. I love you."

With a sigh, Willow hung up and leaned her head against the window. She was so worried but knew that the others had more important things to deal with. The pack wasn't exactly in the best condition to run off to South America and help Willow track the two missing Hale's down. She just had to trust that Derek knew how to take care of himself.

Willow's thoughts of Derek were cut off by Scott and Stiles running out the back door of the Tate house. Just as they reached the jeep, she got out to join them.

"Anything?" Willow asked Scott.

"Nothing," he replied. Noah was leaving the house as well and making his way over to them. "I could only smell the dog in the house."

"It was a scary dog," Stiles mumbled under his breath. "And now Scrib is gonna be mad when he smells it on me."

"I think he'll forgive you," Willow said, rubbing his arm.

When Noah reached them, Scott gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. I tried as hard as I could. If it wasn't so long ago, I might have been able to do it."

"It's okay. It was a long shot. In fact, it was a pretty terrible idea. I think I just ripped a wound open in that poor man. I never should have brought you guys here. I don't know what I was thinking," Noah said, shaking his head. "Thanks for trying, all right?"

"Yeah," Scott said with a frown. Noah seemed rather upset about a case that was closed so long ago.

"See you two at home," Noah told Stiles and Willow.

"Aren't there a lot of cases that go unsolved?" Scott asked once Noah got in his car and drove off.

"Yeah, I just think this is one he felt like he could've figured out right now," Stiles told him.

"Why is it so important now?" Willow asked.

"He wants to be able to solve one more while he's still Sheriff," he mumbled.

"What do you mean still Sheriff?" Scott asked.

It was then that Stiles told them about the impeachment process that Scott's father was beginning. It was highly likely that Rafael McCall would be getting Noah fired soon. That explained why he brought that box of cases back to the house, Willow realized. He was putting in the extra work to try and solve crimes from the past.

Now that Noah knew about the supernatural, maybe that knowledge could be used to save more people and his job.

☽︎

It was late at night when Scott found his way to the Stilinski house. Stiles was laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, deep in thought while Willow was doing homework on the end of his bed. They both looked up when Scott came in, a flashlight in hand.

"Hey, what's going on?" Stiles asked, sitting up.

"You, me, and Will. We're going to go out and find a body," he said, turning the flashlight on. "A dead body."

"I'm not going out and finding a dead body," Willow muttered, looking back down at her calculus homework.

"But - but we're a trio," Stiles said, pouting.

"No."

"The three musketeers—"

"No."

"It won't take that long—"

"Stiles, I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that she's not gonna come."

☽︎

Willow was glad she didn't go hunt for a dead body. Scott and Stiles didn't find one anyway. Instead, they found Malia who was evidently alive and trapped in the body of a coyote.

When Stiles told her werecoyoties were real, Willow thought he was trying to mess with her.

But now Scott was determined to find a way to help Malia and turn her back human.

"Here's where we found the den," Stiles said. They were showing Allison and Willow on a map of the preserve where they found Malia. "It's right in the middle of the hiking trails."

"Well, that could narrow it down. Coyotes travel in fixed trails," Allison told them, knowledgeable about animals from her father. "But I think you're right about her not going back to the den. Coyotes don't like wolves. And they're really smart. If they don't want to be heard, they actually walk on their toes."

Stiles raised a surprised eyebrow. "Coyotes tip-toe?"

"They tip-toe," she confirmed.

"Really?" Stiles mouthed to Willow silently. She grinned and nodded.

"I got to go," Allison said as the bell rang, "but send me the pinned location."

Once Allison left the classroom, the rest of them found their desks. Before Scott could sit next to Willow, Kira walked up to him, smiling nervously.

"Hey. I'm Kira. You knew that," she mumbled. "I knew you knew that. I don't know why I just told you that again. Anyway, I have something for you."

"For me?" Scott asked. He couldn't help but grin with her around.

"Yeah. About the bardo. My explanation was sort of all over the place, so I did some research and I printed it out for you," she told him.

"Ah, you didn't have to do that," he said, thinking it was sweet.

"It only took a couple of hours," Kira said casually as she dug through her bag. Just like Stiles, she thought hours of internet research was nothing.

"Wow," Scott breathed out. "Then you really didn't have to do that."

As Kira continued to dig through her bag, she realized that the papers were missing. "I swear I printed it out."

"Kira," Mr. Yukimura said, joining them. "You forgot all the research you did for that boy you like."

Willow covered her mouth, unable to believe he had just embarrassed Kira so easily. Mr. Yukimura handed her the thick stack of paper. With her eyes closed in shame, Kira turned to a stunned Scott and handed him the information.

He watched her for another moment as she took her seat before going to his own desk. Though she was embarrassed, Kira couldn't help but softly smile when Scott immediately began flipping through all the papers.

"All right, everyone. Let's get started. We were just talking about internment camps and prisoners of war. There's a passage in our reading that I'd like to go over in more detail. Who would like to come up and read-aloud for us?" Mr. Yukimura asked. "Mr. Stilinski, how about you?"

"Oh, maybe someone else could," Stiles mumbled, not trusting himself to be able to read it.

"I don't mind," Willow quickly said, raising her hand.

But Mr. Yukimura wouldn't have it. "Everyone participates in my class, Mr. Stilinski. Ms. Worthington, you've participated plenty."

Stiles reluctantly got up from his seat and walked behind the podium. Willow didn't take her eyes off him as he looked down at the book.

The longer he was up there, the more he began to freak out. Stiles grabbed the sides of the podium to keep himself up, his vision fading in and out. Everyone was now staring at him, wondering what was happening.

"Stiles," Willow called, standing up. She heard Scott get up behind her as well. "Stiles, are you okay?"

As Willow neared him, Stiles' breathing turned to hyperventilating. She touched his arm and almost immediately, his knees buckled. Scott rushed over to help Willow keep him standing.

"We should take him to the nurse's office," Scott said to Mr. Yukimura, who simply nodded.

Willow and Scott led Stiles out of the classroom, but instead of going to the nurse, they went to the locker room that they knew would be empty.

"Stiles, look at me, man," Scott said as Stiles ripped himself out of their arms. "Is this a panic attack?"

Stiles grabbed the sides of a sink and stared at himself in the mirror, taking deep breaths. "It's a dream, it's a dream. This is just a dream."

"No, it's not. This is real," Scott told him. "You're here. You're here with me."

"Stiles. Stiles," Willow said, grabbing his hands. "Count with me. Count my fingers. This isn't a dream. Count with me."

With shaky hands, Stiles flipped over Willow's hands in his. As he touched the first one, Willow counted out loud with him.

"One. Two," Stiles whispered. "Three."

"Four. Five," Willow said. She stepped closer as Stiles moved to her other hand. "Six. Seven."

"Eight. Nine. Ten," Stiles finished. He stared down at the ten fingers until his heartbeat slowed down a little. "Ten."

"Ten," Willow repeated. "This isn't a dream."

Stiles slid down the brick wall, and Willow followed him down, sitting across from him on her knees. She wiped the tears on his cheek with the sleeve of her sweater.

"What the hell is happening to me?" Stiles asked, glancing from her to Scott.

"We'll figure it out. You're going to be okay," Scott said, sitting with them.

"Am I? Are you?" he asked doubtfully. "Scott, you can't transform. Allison's being haunted by her dead aunt. And I'm straight-up losing my mind. We can't do this. We can't - we can't help Malia. We can't help anyone."

"We can try," Scott said, refusing to give up. "We can always try."

Stiles nodded reluctantly before leaning his head against Willow's shoulder. She let him nervously toy with her fingers in his hands, giving him something to focus on.

The bell rang, but none of them got up to go to lunch. Willow didn't want to leave Stiles until she knew he was alright.

The comfortable silence was soon interrupted by the sound of glass breaking. Scott shot up and looked around the corner where the lockers were. Then he looked back at Stiles and Willow.

"It's Malia," Scott whispered, picking up on her scent. Then he frowned, hearing another heartbeat. "She's chasing someone."

Scott ran off to help, and Willow tried to get up. But Stiles wrapped an arm around her waist, keeping her down.

"The hell are you gonna do against a rabid coyote?" Stiles whisper-shouted. "We don't know if your love magic will work on her when she's like that."

"Ugh, don't call it that," Willow said, shaking her head. "And I want to make sure—"

Willow cut herself off when they heard the sound of lockers being knocked over. Once again, she tried to get up, but Stiles kept her on the ground in case Malia heard them.

It wasn't until Scott came to retrieve them and let them know the coyote was gone that they got off the ground. The other person had been Kira, who was bringing them their backpacks from the classroom when Malia started to chase after her. If not for Scott, the coyote might have torn her to shreds.

It wasn't long before the police and animal control were at the school, making sure that the coyote wasn't still around. Though Malia was long gone, they were trying to figure out how a wild animal made it into the school and into the locker room without being seen.

Mr. Yukimura had rushed to check on Kira as soon as he heard about it. As they were talking, Willow wandered over, catching the end of their conversation.

"They left their bags," Kira said, explaining why she wasn't in the cafeteria for lunch. "I was just trying to do something nice. You do something nice and you make friends. Or so I've heard."

"Excuse me?" Willow interrupted politely. She smiled at both Kira and her father. "I, um, I just wanted to make sure you were alright. And to also thank you for thinking to bring us our things, even if it did lead to you almost getting eaten."

"Oh, it was no problem," Kira said, happy that Willow was still interested in talking to her. "And I'm alright. Lucky thing Scott was there to scare it off."

"I'm just glad it ran off. Don't tell him I said this, but he's not very scary," she said in a teasing tone. "He's a giant puppy dog when you get to know him."

Kira hoped she'd get to know Scott.

"Tell me," Mr. Yukimura said, "is Mr. Stilinski feeling any bet—"

"Where did you get that?" a loud voice asked. Everyone turned to see Mr. Tate in the locker room. He was staring at some doll in Stiles' hand, which they found the night before in Malia's coyote den. He quickly snatched the doll away from him. "Where did you find this? It belonged to my daughter."

Willow slowly stepped away from Kira and stood behind Stiles and Scott.

Noah put himself in between Mr. Tate and the trio. "Mr. Tate, I don't know how you heard about this. If you got your own police scanner or what but you can't be here."

He placed a hand on Mr. Tate's side to lead him away from the locker room, but froze when he felt something under his coat. Noah pushed Mr. Tate's jacket to the side to reveal a gun hanging on his belt.

Willow tensed up, still nervous around guns — thank you, Matt Daehler

"I have a permit," Mr. Tate said lowly.

"California schools are gun-free zones, permit or no permit. You need to leave, Mr. Tate. Now," Noah ordered.

Mr. Tate stuttered for a moment before backing away. "You find that animal. You find that thing."

Between Malia coming to the school and Mr. Tate determined to kill the coyote that was actually his daughter, things were about to get much more difficult for them all.

☽︎

The next day, they had a plan to find Malia and have Allison shoot her with a tranquilizer dart. Given that Scott wasn't sure how to howl powerfully enough to force her to shift back, and Derek wasn't answering his phone, the best they could hope for was catching her. Maybe Deaton could figure out a way to turn her back.

They just needed to find her before Mr. Tate killed her.

"Anyone else think we might be doing more harm than good?" Lydia asked the group.

Scott, Stiles, Willow, Lydia, Allison, and Isaac were parked at the entrance of the preserve, ready to follow Malia's scent and capture her.

"We're trying to keep a father from killing his own daughter," Scott said. Of course, they weren't doing more harm.

"Actually, we're trying to keep a guy from killing a coyote who is actually his daughter, who we don't know how to change from a coyote back to his daughter," Isaac specified.

"And again with the not helping," Stiles muttered, rolling his eyes.

Ignoring Stiles and Isaac's bickering, Scott looked at Allison. "Did you bring it?"

She responded by whipping out a huge tranquilizer gun, which she took from her father's office.

"Alright, no matter how we split up, Lydia stick with Allison, and Willow with Stiles," Scott told them. "Maybe it's because you were the emotional tethers when we went under, but you're both the most effective when bringing them out of an episode."

Lydia smiled softly at Allison, silently praying that this excursion wouldn't end with her getting shot — she had almost been shot by Allison too many times for her liking in the last few days. But at least there were two werewolves around to protect her if Allison started hallucinating her aunt once more.

"Now, let's—"

Scott was cut off by a loud gunshot ringing through the air. He and Isaac both looked toward the direction that it came from, their ears picking up on Mr. Tate's voice.

Before any of them could stop him, Scott jumped back on his motorcycle and sped off through the woods. Isaac was just as reckless, running off. And because Allison needed one of their noses to lead her, she and Lydia followed.

"Wait!" Stiles shouted. But it was useless. They were all already gone. He groaned in annoyance before pulling out his phone to call his dad.

With it on speaker, Noah quickly explained that Malia came back to her house and broke in only to steal the same doll as before. Mr. Tate tried to shoot her but he missed, and Malia ran back into the woods. And evidently, bear traps were all over the woods, a gift from Mr. Tate as well.

"It took the doll again? What the hell is so important about this doll?" Stiles asked in disbelief and annoyance.

"I don't know, but listen to me. There are traps all over those woods. Near the trails. Probably near the car crash. And Tate is out there with a rifle. I want you to stay out of those woods," Noah warned. "You got that? Stiles?"

Willow didn't answer in place of him, instead studying Stiles' face. He seemed to be figuring something out.

"It's the doll," he muttered.

"Stiles?" Noah called again.

"It's the doll?" Stiles asked, still not understanding why Malia kept going after the doll.

Much to Noah's annoyance, Stiles hung up. Willow sat next to Stiles on the hood of the jeep while he thought aloud.

"All right, but why would it go all the way to the school and then all the way back to the house just for a doll? One that was in the car wreck in the first place. We didn't find it in the coyote den," Stiles muttered.

"Well, she likes the doll a lot," Willow said, shrugging. "I didn't really see it when you had it at school. Is it a special doll?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "It's a doll, you know. It's got little arms, a big baby head, and dead, soulless eyes. Actually, I took a pic. Here."

Stiles pulled out his phone and showed an image of two little girls. The younger one had a baby doll clutched in her hands.

"That's Malia?" Willow asked, pointing to the older one.

"Yeah, that's the jacket and the scarf we found in the den."

"Stiles, she's not holding the doll," she pointed out. "That's her younger sister, right?"

"It's her doll," Stiles realized. "I know what she's doing. I know where she's going."

"What's she doing?" Willow asked. "How do you know?"

"Come on," he said, pulling her off the jeep and into the woods. "I'll explain to you and Scott."

Except Scott didn't pick up even after three calls. Stiles had no choice but to tell him everything over voicemail.

"Scott, it's me, you got to call me back as soon as you can. It wasn't Malia's doll. It was her sister's. Malia left it at the car for her sister. It's like bringing flowers to a grave. Okay, and we stole the flowers. So, that's all she's trying to do, right. Bring the doll back to the grave, to the car wreck. That's where she's headed," Stiles explained, briskly walking in the direction of the wreck. "The car wreck—"

"Stiles."

Willow's voice was barely above a whisper, but he heard it. Stiles ended the message and spun around to look at her, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah? Come on, we gotta get to the—"

"Stiles," she said again, letting her wide eyes travel to the ground.

Stiles's gaze moved down her legs and finally spotted why Willow had stopped walking. Under her foot was a bear trap, which she had triggered. And as soon as she shifted her weight, the sharp claws would clamp down on her ankle, crushing it.

"Willow, don't move," Stiles said, rushing over to her. His hands hovered by her shoulders helplessly.

"Wasn't planning on it," she said, managing a weak smile. But tears were already welling in her eyes. "Is there a warning label?"

"A warning label?"

"Instructions on how to disarm it," she specified.

"Willow, why the hell would they put instructions on the bottom of a trap?" he asked, beginning to panic slightly.

"Because animals can't read," Willow said, doing her best to keep her voice level.

Stiles crouched down and moved the grass around until his eyes landed on a label on the side of the trap. He gulped before glancing up at her.

"Willow," Stiles said cautiously. The crack in his voice gave Willow an idea of what he was about to say next. "I can't read either."

Willow shut her eyes for a moment, a few tears slipping from them. Then she took in a deep breath. "Stiles, you don't read instructions. Not for fixing parts on Roscoe or even building Lego sets. You don't need them because you are too smart to waste your time with them, okay? You can figure it out. Stiles, you're the one who always figures it out. So you can do it."

Stiles took a moment to look at her, wiping his own tears away. Then with shaky hands, he moved the grass around to inspect all the parts of the trap. Eventually, he found a wheel that looked like controlled the mechanism which closed the trap.

"I - I think I've got it," he said, looking at her once more. "Get ready to move. Okay, here we go. Ready?" Willow nodded her head frantically and held her breath. "Okay, here we go."

In one quick movement, Stiles pulled on the wheel. Willow took her foot off the trap and fell back into Stiles' arms. A second later, the trap closed shut around empty air.

Willow hid her face in Stiles' chest, sighing in relief.

"You did it," she whispered, still trembling as he held her. "You figured it out."

"Yeah. Yeah, I did," he breathed out, running a comforting hand through her hair. "Okay. Okay, stay behind me, and don't step anywhere that I don't step first."

Before they could continue toward the car crash sight, a deep, rumbling howl sounded through the woods. It was easily ten times more powerful than that night at the school the year before when Peter trapped them all.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Stiles cheered, knowing that Scott found Malia.

"Derek and Peter would be so jealous if they heard that."

☽︎

Willow laid in bed, staring up at her ceiling and counting the stars by herself. Her phone was next to her, and she was willing for it to ring with a call from Derek. But even she was starting to give up hope.

So, to distract herself from worrying about Derek, she recalled what happened after almost losing her leg.

Scott had indeed forced Malia to shift into her human form. The girl was quite disoriented — and a little feral — now that she was back on two legs. Before returning her home, Scott had explained to her how she had been trapped in her coyote form for so long.

They also took her to the Stilinski house so that she could shower and borrow some clothes from Willow. Malia didn't speak much at all, but she had appreciated how Willow gently got eight years' worth of knots out of her hair.

Then Willow and Stiles had watched from the back seat of the cruiser as Noah delivered Malia to her father. Much to Stiles' excitement, he was able to read the words printed at the bottom of the side mirror that warned objects may be closer than they appeared.

When they got home, he ran around and read every single thing in his room to make sure it wasn't a one-time thing.

Given that he could read, Willow and Stiles both assumed that meant his nightmares would go away too. But that was proven wrong as Stiles' screams once again sounded through the house.

Willow rolled out of bed and ran out her door, disappearing a second before her phone lit up with the very call she had been driving herself crazy waiting for.

Noah was working late at the station, meaning Willow was the only one there to wake up and comfort Stiles. The boy was trashing helplessly on his bed and continued to do so as Willow climbed on the bed and wrapped her arms around him.

"You're okay. Hey, you're okay," Willow said, repeating the words over and over as she slowly coaxed him awake. It took time, but eventually, his screams died down. "You're okay. It was just a dream. I'm right here."

"It was - it was a dream," he muttered to himself, staring at the wall with a blank expression. "I'm dreaming. Am I - am I dreaming?"

"You're awake," Willow said, cradling his face softly. Stiles looked away from the wall and at her. Her eyes were glowing a soft pink as she sent calming waves of affection at him. "You're awake."

"Am I?" he whispered, not taking his eyes off hers.

Willow slid her hands down his cheeks before grabbing his hands and holding them between them. "Count with me."

And they did. They counted fingers like stars until they reached the tenth and final one. Then Willow placed a soft kiss to the pad of his thumb, earning a content sigh from Stiles.

"You're awake. You're here with me," Willow whispered to him, placing a hand on his cheek.

Stiles covered the hand with his own, leaning into her touch. "I love you."

"I love you too, Sti," she said softly.

"No," he said, shaking his head. Willow had never seen such an intense look in his eyes. "Willow, I'm in love with you. I have been since the first grade when you smiled that beautiful smile at me in the sandbox."

Willow was frozen, not sure where all this was coming from. Even if she knew Stiles had a crush on her at one point, it had been a long time since he'd even hinted at having feelings for her. Especially ones of love.

"I had to tell you," he continued. Willow didn't move as his thumb brushed her bottom lip. "I fall more in love with you every day. I know - I know you're with—"

"Derek," Willow whispered his name softly. Why hadn't Derek entered her mind before Stiles brought him up?

"You can't tell him. You can't tell him I told you," Stiles said, sounding almost scared. "He'd kill me if he knew I felt like this. You can't tell him."

"I won't," she said, shaking her head. "I wouldn't let him hurt you, Stiles."

Stiles nodded, looking at her with wide eyes. "Because you love me?"

The words felt stuck in Willow's throat. She couldn't move as he stared at her with such vulnerability. It almost felt like she was burning under his gaze — but he wasn't the one meant to make her burn.

"Will you stay?" Stiles asked when she never replied. "I don't have nightmares when you stay."

"I'll stay," she told him, nodding. "I'll stay."

It was quiet as they got under the covers. And then Willow let Stiles pull her close, tucking her head into his chest and wrapping her arms around him.

With Willow's eyes obscured, the vulnerable look on Stiles' face faded, morphing to one void of emotions. A soft pink glow emitted from his eyes — a glow that wasn't of Willow's doing — and Willow pulled herself impossibly close to his body, before the eyes faded back to a light brown color.

And then as Willow let out a soft noise that sounded quite close to the name Stiles, the blank look on his face morphed to a twisted, satisfied smirk.