divine || emptier than the void pt. ii

xii.

"Even though the real Stiles is dormant," Kira said, looking Scott in the eyes, "I know for a fact that he would say you're doing the right thing, that you're stopping the Nogitsune from hurting more people. He trusts you."

Scott nodded slowly, but a half-formed idea started prickling at his brain.

Dormant...

He stood, rifling through his nightstand until he found an old Ziploc bag marked Stiles. It rattled as he handed it to Kira, whose eyes widened in understanding. She took it, examining its contents.

"Do you think this will work?" she asked. Scott shrugged.

"Even if it did, we would still have the dilemma of changing the host." He rubbed a finger across his chin, up to his mouth where he slid it alongside his fangs. Fangs that, if they couldn't figure out something better to do, would be piercing his best friend's skin and infecting him with the bite.

"I'll either be killing my best friend or saving his life," he said, the gravity of the situation crushing him like in the parking lot when Stiles had gone missing. Where he had hugged the Nogitsune, thinking it to be Stiles. And that made his fists curl.

Because the worst part of all this wasn't the fact that Stiles might die. That had always been a given since Scott had received the bite and Stiles had decided to join him on his adventures. The worst part was that Scott hadn't recognized his best friend, that he had mistaken him for a thousand year-old evil fox spirit.

If Scott couldn't even recognize his best friend in the first place, how would he be able to save his life without resorting to the bite?

Kira hefted the old zippy-bag into the air, breaking him from his thoughts.

"If this works," she said slowly, "I think I have an idea."

Scott smiled. "Me, too."

They headed downstairs and presented their thoughts to the group, who decided the ideas were brilliant. The only problem left, though, was actually locating where Lydia and the Nogitsune were. Or, as Isaac had taken to calling him, Void Stiles.

Scott heaved a sigh as he refilled Deaton's ice pack, racking his brain.

If I were a thousand year-old fox spirit possessing a teenage boy's body, where would I go? And, the more important question, what does he want with Lydia?

"The Nogitsune feeds off of chaos, strife, and pain," Allison recited as Scott walked back into the room, handing a wincing Deaton the ice pack. "He must want to lure us somewhere to fight and absorb all that."

"Take us all on?" Aiden snorted disbelievingly. "Please. Even two of us together could snap that toothpick Stilinski in a heartbeat; that fox spirit would've had a better chance possessing somebody like Derek."

Scott's blood froze at the name.

"Derek," he blurted. "Do you think that's where Void went?"

Isaac tossed Scott his keys. "Only one way to find out."

- - - - - -

Lydia watched as Stiles---no, the Nogitsune, she reminded herself---plunged a pipe deeper into Derek's stomach. And he giggled, like it was all fun and games to him.

Lydia and the sheriff were handcuffed together against a pillar by the far wall. Unlike when they had been trapped in the collapsing cellar mere minutes before they had found Stiles in his wrecked jeep, Noah wasn't having any luck getting them off.

"Oh-h," the Nogitsune laughed through panting breaths, twisting the pipe and making Derek scream. A growing pool of blood was trapped underneath him, and Lydia winced at each and every squeak it made beneath Stiles' tennis shoes.