Void
"Where is my son?" Sheriff Stilinski steps forward, his voice urgent.
I look at Scott, his face pale, drained of any colour, and I raise an eyebrow. "Why don't you ask McCall here?" I give them a grin. "He knows the truth, don't you Scotty?"
"Scott?" Lydia and the Sheriff say at the same time.
"I- I don't- I don't know." His eyes flicker from me, to the rest of his pack. "He was with us this morning, we were all there. I was talking to him right before the girl got hit on her bike, he said he was going to get you some food because-" Scott trails off, his gaze moving to me. "You set it all up." His eyes narrow. "The girls bike, her breaks weren't attached properly... that was all you, wasn't it?" He concludes, my face remains blank, neutral. "You son of a-"
"God, you really are stupid, aren't you." I interrupt. "You couldn't even tell the difference between us. None of you could." I chuckle under my breath. "I thought you guys were supposed to be his friends? His pack? I don't think you realize it, but none of you would be alive right now if it weren't for him. And maybe if you listened to him sooner you wouldn't be two members short." Malia is the first to break, she lunges at me, claws bared. I tilt my head slightly to the right, feeling the rush of wind as her nails brush my cheek.
Gosh. Why does she telegraph so much? It's like dodging a slow motion punch, all too easy. She stumbles forward, bracing herself on the couch as I stand up, my eyes dancing over one angry face to another. I can hear Stiles in my head, I won't tell them as much, of course not. It's going to be fun watching their expressions fall when Scott tells them my false truth. The will break apart, shattering like a fractured mirror before me. Some of them will try to fight me, some of them might cry, and some will just sit down and let the information sink in.
I see Deaton step forward with a syringe in hand, neon yellow liquid sloshing around inside.
Wolf Lichen.
That is a surprise.
I make a split second decision, doing something that might not even be possible. Stiles hates me, he will never agree to what I'm about to ask him. But what are the odd chances that he says yes? What if I convince him? We would be unstoppable, his friends would be trying to save someone who doesn't need saving.
Him saying yes would make everything so much easier. So, with a smirk, I start a conversation in our mind.
I have a proposition for you, Stiles. I tell him.
Does it include you going straight to Hell? He shoots back, unsarcastically.
At some point, yes. But that is a long ways away from now. I find myself smirking at his remark. I can't kill you, you know that, and your friends can't kill me without killing you as well. So, Stiles, I would like to offer you a truce.
The boy scoffs. I didn't really think you'd be the type to go around waving a white flag screaming 'truce, truce' when something doesn't go your way. You kind of came off as the 'leave no survivors' type of guy... or evil fox spirit... whatever.
Funny. Now listen to me. I block an attack from Kira, her katana slicing just over my head, cutting a few strands of hair clean from my head. You're weak, Stiles. You have no powers, no supernatural abilities, your friends will always see you as uncapable, helpless. It doesn't matter what you do, you will end up messing up. It is inevitable. And it is only a matter of time before you make an unforgivable mistake. You're expendable to them. And you will continue being the defenseless, weak boy unless you do something about it.
That's a pretty brave speech for the one dodging swords right now.
I counter another of Kira's attacks, sending her sword flying into the wall. Derek growls, which isn't a great sound to hear coming from a grown ass man. He runs at me, kicking off the wall and slashing his claws across my back. I bite my cheek until I draw Stiles' mortal blood, keeping myself from crying out in pain. Because it did hurt. I just can't show it. Multitasking is harder than people make it out to be. Both fighting six people and talking to the teenager in my mind has me worn though.
After a moment of silence, the boy speaks again. I still don't see your point, Void.
I'm asking you to join me.
What?
A truce, Stiles, I want a truce.
I can feel his mind working within mine. I think you have your definitions messed up. He says finally. Joining you, and making a truce are to completely different things. And I will do neither.
"Dammit" I hear myself say out loud, earning a weird look from a few members of the pack. If they kill this body, you will die, and I will die. This truce the best choice for both of us. You can go to school like a normal teenager, but you will have the Nogitsune's power, speed, strength, everything.
But what's the catch? He asks, smart kid.
Your friends cannot harm me, if they do, they will harm you as well. I throw my fist into Derek's face, jarring one of his top canines.
Stop hurting them, please.
Do you wave your white flag too, Stiles?
A pause. And you promise not to hurt any more of my friends.
I promise. What is it you mortals say? I pinky swear and stab my heart.
Another pause. It's actually 'I pinky swear and cross my heart', but that's alright. Not everyone can be perfect. I feel as he goes over the pact once more in his head. Then, he agrees. I agree to your terms, Void. Now hold up your end of the bargain.
I feel Stiles' mind pull back, and as promised, I do the same. Our consciousnesses merge, intertwining. He overtakes my reign, pushing me from our shared throne. Out of pure luck, as soon as he takes control, he steps back, narrowly missing the tip of Kira's arcing blade.
"Guys!" He puts his hands out, his fingers shaking violently. "Kira!" She stops mid-swing, the edge of her katana halting right before taking his head clean off his shoulders. "Guys!" Everyone else, including Liam, who has grabbed a frying pan from the kitchen, stares at him. At us. "Guys! Chill! It's me, I swear."
Everyone remains silent, doubtful. It is Melissa that speaks. "You said that last time. How do we know you're not lying."
"I- I don't know." He whispers. "I- I killed him." Stiles runs his trembling hand through his hair. "I killed him. Void. In my mind. He's dead. I- I killed him." Part of me is shocked to hear him lie for me. I was almost certain he was going to betray me. I took a gamble.
And I won.
Stiles scans everyone's faces with wide, terrified eyes, searching for someone, a single person, to believe him. his gaze rests on his father. "You guys don't believe me." He mutters. "None of you? None-" He staggers back, wiping blood from his bottom lip and swaying lightly on his feet. He stares at the red smear on the back of his hand, blinking.
"Stiles," Lydia says his name softly, he glances up at her. She takes a hesitant step towards him, hand out. "If it's really you, just answer a few questions."
"But it won't- that won't work. He had access to my mind, he knew everything about me. He would be able to answer whatever question you asked."
"Then how do we know it's you?"
They shouldn't have to. If they were your real friends, they would know right away.
"You shouldn't have to." Stiles says.
The room silences.
"If you guys really knew me," his gaze lands on his father, "then you would know if it's me or Void right away." No one finds the strength to meet his eyes as they realize the weight of his words. "I need some air."
They don't stop him as he walks out the front door.
Stiles
Voids speech replays in my head as I walk down the street, away from Scotts house. "They shouldn't have to," he had said, and to my dismay, he's right. If they really cared about me they would have noticed right away when I stared acting weird. Especially Scott, Lydia and my father. But they didn't. Void offered a truce, a choice between life and death, and I took it. He promised not to hurt my friends in exchange for his life - our life - if I die, he dies, if he dies, I die.
The streetlight flickers as I walk under it, thunder booming somewhere off in the horizon. The wind tastes like rain, that musty petrichor tinge to the air, like wet concrete and soil. I breathe in. Rain is coming, and I don't care if I'm out in the open when it falls. I just don't want to be with my friends. Not now.
They are not your friends, Stiles.
"Yeah, and neither are you. So you can't be the one talking." I snap out loud. "You're a murderer and a liar, there is no reason I should trust you."
I'm not asking you to trust me. I just don't want you to die. You're the perfect host, that's why I chose you in the first place. Before, if Scott killed you're body while I was in your head, they would only have killed you, not me. But now Stiles... now it isn't so simple.
"I know. I know. If one of us die, then we both die. And I lied for you, but you also promised not to hurt anyone. I will hold you to that, and if you do I swear to God that I will finish the job." I lower my voice to a whisper, not wanting to look like a psychopath in front of the elderly lady walking on the other side of the road. I've had enough of Eichen House, I have no desire to be sent back so soon. "I betrayed my friends, and even if it was for their own safety, if they find out they will never forgive me." Derek's words ring in my head; what three things cannot long be hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth. It is the last that concerns me. "Don't make me regret this."
I don't think you will.
Scott
"You shouldn't have to."
Stiles' words hang in the air long after he slammed the front door in my face. And no one has said a word since his leave, the room has been left so deadly silent you can hear a pin drop on the other side of the house. I don't think anyone has even dared to breathe.
Finally, Malia speaks up. "Is it even possible?"
Everyone's attention snaps to her. "Is what possible?"
"For the host to kill the nogitsune while it's still in them?"
We all look to Deaton. "Well, yes." He is still staring at the door, as if waiting for Stiles to walk back in. Then, he turns his head, slowly, to meet my eyes. "Technically it is. When you went into his head last time, you saw both Stiles and the nogitsune, correct?" When Lydia and I nod, he continues. "It is quite possible that the same thing has occurred once again. And if they fought subconsciously, and Stiles won... in order for him to be here, he must have killed Void.
"But how? He's only human." I say.
"It's Stiles' own mind. Anything could have happened. For all we know, Void doesn't have his supernatural abilities when he's within Stiles' consciousness. He could be powerless, just like Stiles."
"How do we know that the boy that just walked out that door, isn't Void?" Noah Stilinski asks, pointing to the thick, mountain ash door. "How do we know my son isn't the one who lost that fight, and we just let the nogitsune walk away?"
"There is one way." Deaton glances around the room, holding up the wolf lichen. "There can be three outcomes. If we inject Stiles with the Letharia vulpina in this syringe, and it affects him like it did before, we know that both him and the nogtisune are still very much alive..."
"And that he lied to us." Derek says from the corner of the room, earning himself shocked gazes from everyone around him.
"Not necessarily, Derek, if the first outcome works," Deaton gestures to Noah, "as you said, Sheriff, it might not even have been Stiles that walked out that door. And if he's telling the truth, if he really did kill the nogitsune, nothing should happen to him at all. That boy is no fox, the poison shouldn't even affect him."
"And the third outcome?"
"If- if Stiles lost the battle..." he pauses, "then we will know."
"How?"
"We just will." A hush falls over the pack.
"Then what are you waiting for?" Everyone whips their heads around to face the voice, startled to find Stiles sitting back on the couch, arms spread across the top, almost casually.
"What- how?" I am the first to speak, shocked into stuttering. How had he gotten there? With more than half a dozen werewolves in the room, how had he managed to get into the mountain ash lined house and sit down without anyone realizing? It's impossible. For a human.
"I'm not lying." He states, barely concealing the hurt in his voice. "But if you need proof, you may take it." He pulls his arm from atop the couch, holding it out to Deaton. I put my hand up, stopping the veterinarian from going closer.
"How did you get in here, Stiles?"
"You left the back door open." He says, his heartbeat steady. The truth. I spare Derek a glance, knowing he was listening for the same thing, his brows furrow and he slightly nods his head. The confirmation I needed, he didn't hear a skip either. I let Deaton pass, but I continue to stare at Stiles, skeptical. But the boy just watches as the needle hovers over his skin, and actually wincing as it pierces the pale flesh. Then I remember, he never liked needles, in fact he hated them. My friend squeezes his eyes shut as the yellow liquid empties into his body, every last drop.
And nothing happens.
"There is your proof." He rolls down his sleeve, standing. But no one moves, not a single muscle. His eyes drift over everyone's faces, finding no comfort in them. Nothing but fear and caution. "What more do you need?" He asks softly. "I don't understand. I passed your little test, what do I have to do to make you believe me? Void is dead. I killed him. Something you obviously failed to do-"
"Stiles-" Lydia interrupts.
"No!" He yells, making her flinch. "No." He says quieter this time, realizing his tone. "I'm done. I'm done. I can't keep doing this. You guys never listen to me, and I'm sick of it." He focuses solely on me. "You never cared enough to make sure I was okay. After everything that has happened to us, you never once came to check on me." His voice breaks. Really breaks.
Despite it, he scoffs, on the breach of tears. "After all Scott, I was the one who killed Allison, was I not?" His words are quiet, almost deadly. Like venom. He holds up his hands, his fingers visibly shaking. "These two hands have killed dozens of innocent people. I remember everyone, their names, what they looked like... I remember how they died" he pauses, looking away. "I still remember how it felt to snap their necks, Scott, I remember all of it. I remember slitting Brett's throat, I remember how it felt to murder that girl beside him.
Stiles turns back to me. "I have to look at myself in the mirror and try not to see him. I have to pretend. Every fucking second of every fucking day. And I guess I was getting pretty damn good at it, Scott," the way he says my name makes my heart drop into my stomach, "because you guys never once saw anything wrong with me."