*FLASHBACK*

Releasing a small sigh, Stiles closed his eyes and listened intently as the gentle sound of raindrops hitting the sleek exterior of the Camaro combined with the soft tones of jazz filling the air. His short moment of tranquillity was broken, however, when a full body shiver ran through him and he found himself moving almost on autopilot; pulling his hoodie tighter around his chest and curling as close as he could to the car's heater. All in bid to chase away the icy chill in his bones...A chill that's been lingering ever since Scott freed him from the Nogitsune mere hours ago.

Reminded painfully once again of the demonic fox, Stiles raised a hand and pressed his fingers to the still tender stretch of skin behind his ear; heart only easing slightly in its rabbit-face pace when his fingertips easily found the raised lines of the Kanji symbol for "self" branded onto the surface of his neck by the Oni.

A true sign he wasn't Void anymore.

Momentarily reassured by the marks continued presence Stiles reopened his eyes and glanced sideways, gaze falling on the ever silent and handsomely brooding figure of Derek Hale as he drove into the night. Clearing his throat gently he briefly considered the idea of saying something inappropriate or sarcastic like usual, but the words died on his tongue, instead, his mouth gave birth to a more sombre and sincere tone.

"I'm sorry"

He wasn't really hoping for much of a response if he was being entirely honest, already intimately familiar with werewolf's certain fondness for using his words sparsely enough to know that the chances of gaining a response were slim to none. He just wanted Derek to know he was sorry, for everything he'd done, he wasn't asking for forgiveness, not when he knew he didn't deserve it.

"Why?" the beta had furrowed his dark brows and barely spared a glance towards him as he grunted out his one-word response, the usual lack of verbal eloquence present in his tone. Swivelling his head around to look fully at Derek, Stiles gave the werewolf an expression of pure disbelief, had the former alpha hit his head recently? Or did the dickhead just want him to be specific and list all of the treacherous things he'd done the past few days? Anger festered low in his gut at that bitter thought Stiles clenched his fists tightly in order to stop himself from doing something completely reckless, like punching the werewolf in the face when he was driving.

"Why? What the fuck do you mean why? There is a literal LIST of reasons for me to be apologising right now!" Stiles snapped, eyes glaring daggers at Derek who continued to drive like there was nothing wrong.

Sensing Stiles' anger Derek shook his head and huffed in what appeared to be frustration before speaking firmly, tone implying that his words should be the simplest thing on the planet to understand when all Stiles could hear was bullshit. "It wasn't you Stiles. It was the Nogitsune who did all of those things, so you have nothing to be sorry for". Biting his tongue roughly Stiles turned his eyes to the window and kept silent, unable to even look at Derek when the guilt in his chest was screaming like a Banshee at the lies falling from the beta's lips.

…..Because it was his fault.

He let the Nogitsune in in the first place, and then he wasn't even strong enough to fight it when it dug its way into his mind and tore away at his memories like tissue paper, plucking out the most intimate of information to use in its plans of chaos and strife.

Every single sick and twisted thing the Nogitsune did was his fault… because it used his mind and his body to do it.

Keeping these thoughts to himself Stiles continued to stare out of the window, watching transfixed as the drops of rain raced down the glass and merged with each other to create larger droplets. The tense silence which followed Derek's statement stretched out between the two for the remainder of the ride, only broken once the Camaro pulled into the station's parking lot and Stiles began to unbuckle his seat belt, a clearly disgruntled note to his words near the end of his sentence.

"Thanks for the ride Sourwolf, tell Scott I want an update on their search for Lydia and the Nogitusune will you? I have a feeling he's going to try and bench me as much as he can for the rest of this fight. Probably thinks I won't be able to handle it"

Reaching for the handle Stiles opened the door with a swing and moved to step out, pausing only because of a warm hand landing on his shoulder. Turning slowly Stiles' gaze connected with Derek's, his heart thumping slightly faster as he tried not to get lost in the kaleidoscope tones of deep green, earth brown and dark blue which made up the former alpha's eyes. Unaware, or more likely uncaring of the embarrassing effect he was having on Stiles, Derek gave his bony shoulder a gentle squeeze, a phantom echo of a move Stiles distantly remembered doing to the werewolf back in the loft when Boyd had just died.

"Stay safe Stiles. Please"

Swallowing thickly Stiles nodded, not trusting himself to say much other than a quick "you too" before exiting the car into the rain. Cursing the weather Stiles shut the door quickly and began to jog across the wet tarmac, sneakers squelching in the large puddles which littered the ground like miniature oceans.

Grateful when he finally ducked into the cover of station's reception area, Stiles paid no particular mind to the absence of Danielle at the desk, assuming that she was in the bathroom or in the evidence room doing filing, as so she often did during the town's slower nights. Fingers trailing along the surface of the desk Stiles debated on trying to surprise his dad with his return in some way before quickly deciding that his old man was 100% likely to smack him across the back of the head if he did such a thing. Giving the thought a fond smile Stiles made his way through the main room, weaving expertly through all the empty desks towards the back where his dad's office was positioned, door visibly ajar and spilling warm light outwards.

He was probably working like crazy trying to find him.

Hurrying around the last desk Stiles grinned as the office came into view, his mouth open ready to call out a casual greeting of "hey daddio!" when the words suddenly died in his throat.

Something was lying on the floor, just visible in the gap made by the door, a boot. Faltering slightly in his movements Stiles felt his stomach drop, his heart skipping a few beats as he recognised the lovingly worn combat boots.

"DAD!"

Leaping into action Stiles breached the short distance left between himself and the office with a few long strides, palm pushing against the door to open it wider only for the wood to bounce off something heavy and unyielding. Shaking his head Stiles began to mutter underneath his breath in panic "nonononono please god no" as he squeezed into the office through the small space available and dropped to his knees over his dad's prone body.

He was lying on his back, positioned directly in front of the door and head turned towards his desk as if he'd fallen down suddenly and had no way to catch himself. For a split second Stiles was sure his worst fears had come true and that he'd had a heart attack, but then a sickly iron smell hit him like a punch to the face and he fought the urge to gag as his eyes finally landed on a bright red stain spreading quickly across his dad's abdomen.

It was all happening so fast.

It wasn't fair.

He'd entered the station with the belief that he'd finally get to hug his dad after days of hellish torment being trapped in his own mind, fully prepared for the spiel which would most likely follow said hug, a well-rehearsed speech consisting mostly of him being grounded for "being reckless and giving an old man more grey hairs than he needs". But that wasn't happening and he couldn't breathe because all he could see was blood, blood was too warm and too red and all too slick as it leaked between his shaking fingers, bubbling up persistently as he quickly pressed his hands on the wound.

The pressure caused a groan to spill forth from his dad's lips and Stiles gave a little cry of relief at the sign of life as his dad's head turned suddenly, pale green eyes shifting into focus and then falling onto him, recognition flickering just beneath a cloud of pain.

"Sss… Stiles?". Nodding encouragingly at the hopeful whisper, Stiles let out a watery laugh, thick salty tears streaming down his face as he tried to be strong, tried to hold it together long enough to keep his dad alive.

"Y-yeah daddio, it's me this time, I promise. I'm ..I'm back… Scott... Scott got me out, Lydia too. I'm here". His dad smiled at his stuttered words of confirmation, expression so soft and full of love, like Stiles had given him the greatest gift of all by coming back to him and he bit his lip to stop himself from crying uncontrollably.

A sob finally wrenched its way out however when his dad began to lift his hand, arm shaking with the effort to bring his palm up to cup Stiles' cheek like he'd done thousands of times before, warm calloused fingers cradling the side of his face in a comforting embrace. Leaning into the touch Stiles adjusted his hold on the wound carefully, shifting one hand free to reach into his pocket in search of his phone, blood-soaked fingers fumbling as they gripped the device.

"It's going to be okay pops, I just-I just n-need to ring an ambulance and they'll fix you right up okay?" Stiles reassured his dad shakily as he swiped at the phone screen, bringing up the emergency call option and dialling 911. Quickly setting the phone on loudspeaker Stiles placed it on the floor beside his right leg as he returned the hand to the wound, pressing down once again with renewed vigour.

The dial tone started and seconds passed which felt like an eternity, an eternity where Stiles could see his dad struggling more and more to keep himself conscious. Stiles was close to screaming when the operator finally picked up with a crisp "hello, this is 911, what's your emergency?". Aware that time was of the essence Stiles rattled off the necessary details to the woman on the phone as quickly as he could, trying and failing not to think about how the hand on his face was growing colder by the second. Feeling the hand begin to slip off his cheek Stiles pressed tighter to the wound, murmuring softly to his dad as the operator informed him that an ambulance was now on its way before hanging up.

"H-hey, hey! Stay with me okay old man? You need to stay awake and yell at me for getting possessed by an evil fox spirit. And I promise...I promise I won't even talk back this time. Do you hear me, dad? This is probably the only time this is ever going to happen in the history of forever! Stiles Stilinski promising not to talk back". It was nonsense, he knew he was just rambling anything that came to his mind, a mind clouded with panic that only got worse as the hand fully fell away, dropping to the floor with a dull smack.

Shaking his head in denial Stiles began to pray for the first time in his life since his mother fell ill, he prayed to whoever was out there listening right now that he would do anything not to lose his dad too.

But his dad's breathing grew shallow, chest moving up and down slower and slower until the movement was almost nonexistent. By this time Stiles had moved past hysterically begging for his dad to hold on, to not leave him all alone, and had started to wail. A series of gut-wrenching cries of grief that poured forth from his lungs into the dead of night as the light died from his father's eyes.

The paramedics arrived five minutes later, too late to do anything but watch solemnly as Stiles clutched desperately to his dad's body like a child, holding the older man's head to his chest as he rocked slowly back and forth, all the while begging softly for him to wake up. The Nogitsune's words ringing loud and clear in his mind.

"Your friends…. Your family.. Everyone who ever meant something to you, we're going to destroy all of them, Stiles! One by one"