RENEGADE | "You wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody." - Big Red Machine
In which Ainsley Dunbar transfers to a new school and learns secrets about her new friends, her town, and herself.
Teen Wolf
Seasons One to Six
Stiles Stilinski x O...
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"I hear echoes inside myself, they're banging the walls for help." ---
A whole day after Deaton poisoned the Nogitsune inside Stiles, I'm sitting on the back of Scott's bike, the two of us making our way to Eichen House to hopefully get there before Stiles and his dad to convince the latter not to let Stiles be admitted as a patient. I see the sheriff's car has just pulled up to the wrought iron gates of the institution, the headlights turning off just as Scott and I roll up in front of it. I take off the helmet on my head, placing it down on the seat as I step onto solid ground again.
"Why didn't you tell us?" Scott asks the two of them for the both of us as I stand silent, toying with the hem of my baby blue t-shirt. I was at dance trying not to think about any of this when Scott came to get me, saying that he had heard that this was what was happening.
"Because we wanted to avoid something like this," Sheriff Stilinski replies, glancing between Scott and me.
"It's only seventy-two hours," Stiles defends, and his voice is so numb it makes my heart crack in half.
"This is the same place where Barrow came from," I remind them. "The guy who had a tumor inside him filled with flies."
Scott looks at the sheriff. "You don't know everything yet," he tells him, his voice desperate.
"I know enough," Sheriff Stilinski replies. "Nogitsunes, kitsunes, Oni, or whatever they're called."
"Wow, that was actually all surprisingly correct," Stiles hums.
If he weren't about to be committed to this wretched place, I might have cracked a smile.
"Scott, Ainsley, I saw an MRI that looked exactly like my wife's and it terrifies me," Sheriff Stilinski says and I swear my heart actually stops beating for a second. The MRI scans – they must have come back with results showing signs of frontotemporal dementia. "I'm headed down to LA tomorrow to talk to a specialist."
"Then why are you putting him in here?" Scott asks incredulously.
Stiles shakes his head. "He's not," he says softly, eyes flickering between Scott and me. "It's my decision."
"Stiles, I can't help you if you're in here," Scott informs him, shaking his head.
"And I can't hurt you," Stiles argues. His eyes flicker to me, to my throat, where his hands have left deep, purple bruises – Void's hands. "Either of you, more than I already did."
"Deaton's got some ideas," Scott reasons helplessly. "Argent's calling people."
"Stiles, we're gonna find something," I promise him. "And, if we can't –"
"If you can't," Stiles cuts me off, leaning closer to both Scott and me. "If you can't, then you two have to do something for me, okay? Make sure I never get out."
