TW and TMR - Newtmas

Part 9

Scott's POV

We called an emergency meeting at the loft.

No joking. No snacks. No background music. Just all of us sitting in a tight circle, tension thick in the air.

Thomas sat between Newt and me. He looked tired—more tired than I've ever seen him. Dark circles under his eyes, fingers twitching like he couldn't sit still.

He didn't say anything.

But he didn't leave. That meant something.

Deaton had a table full of books in front of him, half of them old enough to crumble if you breathed on them wrong. Lydia was going over translations. Malia and Kira were cross-referencing lore. Even Minho and Gally had jumped in, flipping through handwritten notes like they'd been doing this their whole lives.

Because this was life now.

And the thing coming for Thomas didn't just want his life.
It wanted his identity.

Lydia's POV

"It's not just feeding," I said as I finished translating the last of the Latin under the sigil. "It's anchoring. It's tethered itself to Thomas somehow. Probably when he crossed over."

"You mean when WICKED brought him here?" Aris asked.

"No," Deaton cut in. "I mean when Thomas was taken. When Stiles was erased."

That silenced the room.

"He's like a split soul now," Deaton explained. "Thomas exists because Stiles was suppressed. That void—the Hollowing—feeds on fractures like that. On people who are still whole enough to feel what they've lost."

"So it's not after all of us," Derek said. "It's after him."

Newt reached out and grabbed Thomas's hand.

"He's not alone," he said. "Not anymore."

Thomas' POV

I should've said something. I should've told them I didn't want to be the reason they were all in danger. That I wasn't worth it.

But no one gave me the chance.

Lydia was already drafting a protection sigil tailored to memory and spirit. Deaton handed Malia and Kira a list of herbs that had to be gathered before sunrise. Derek started reinforcing the loft's perimeter with mountain ash and wolfsbane. Even Frypan and Harriet were mixing potions like they'd been brewing spells all their lives.

And Newt...

Newt just stayed by my side.

Like he was daring the universe to try taking me again.

Isaac's POV

We don't know if we can kill it. You can't stab something that doesn't bleed, or claw something that doesn't have a body.

But you can outsmart it.

If it's feeding off the loss of identity, then we give Thomas anchors.

Real, living connections.

Memories. Moments. People.

We make him so full, so real and loved, that the Hollowing can't hollow out anything.

Because there won't be any emptiness left.

Lydia's POV

So that's what we're doing.

For the next week, we each take turns helping Thomas build new roots here—new memories, new bonds.

Minho and Aris took him to the cliffs and made him scream into the wind.
Gally taught him how to fix up a motorbike with Frypan.
Cora and Kira took him hiking and showed him the oldest Hale territory.
Malia taught him to shift—not into anything supernatural, but into someone who believes he belongs.
Isaac gave him a sketchbook.
Derek taught him how to fight blindfolded.
I played him piano—something soft and haunting, something only Stiles would've remembered.

And Newt?

Newt loved him through all of it.

Not to fix him. Not to remind him.

But to show him that who he is now is already enough.

Thomas' POV

I still have the nightmares.

The Hollowing is getting closer.

But I don't wake up alone anymore.

I wake up with Newt beside me. I wake up with laughter echoing from the kitchen. With a picture on the wall of me and the others at the lake. With a sigil on the floor glowing faintly with warmth. With voices calling me Thomas, not out of pity—but respect.

I don't know if we can stop it.

But I know what I'm fighting for now.

And I will not let it take me again.