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You're Telling Me... That Stiles Can Fight?

Chapter Text

    “Stiles!” The call of his name was so faint that Stiles didn’t even hear it, but the resounding howl that followed after it reverberated against the walls of the sewer, finally reaching Stiles.


    “Scott!” For a split second Stiles was relieved before the werewolf chasing him growled. Scott was too far away. He wouldn’t make it on time and with how close the werewolf was Stiles would be ripped to shreds before Scott could catch up.


    Heart pounding, each beat a sharp staccato that sent waves of adrenaline through Stile’s veins, Stiles put on a burst of speed. He rounded a corner, skidding to a stop as he realized the tunnel ended.


    Quickly he turned to run in the other direction, but the werewolf had already caught up with him. The half man, half beast bared its teeth and growled, walking forward slowly now that Stiles had nowhere to go.


    “Look, man. You don’t want to do this.” He said, backing up toward the stone wall. “You’re making a big mistake. Scott’s gonna kick your ass if you kill me.” He told him as he looked around desperately for something, anything that would help him.


    The werewolf grinned, stalking toward him as Stiles’ heart pounded violently in his chest, knowing there was no way out of it this time.


    “You think Scott McCall can kill me?” He snarled, moving forward. “He is weak. Once I kill you he’ll be easy to take down.”


    Before Stiles could retort the beta werewolf launched himself forward.


    And time stilled, the supernatural suspended in mid-air, his teeth bared and eyes a wild yellow as his claws reached for Stiles’ throat.


    Stiles couldn’t move, it was like time froze in that movement with only the gears in his head turning. But he couldn’t find a way out.


    Then he heard it. Felt it. A dark whisper somewhere in the back of his subconscious.


    You know how to fight.




    You know how to fight, you’ve done it before.


    I don’t know what you’re talking about, what are you?


    Instead of an answer, images were quickly conjured up in his mind. The things he was forced to do by the nogitsune. He saw himself fighting against skilled swordswomen, werewolves, he saw himself toss Derek around like he was nothing.


    He saw things that he had never done, things he’d seen in the mind of the nogitsune, things that he’d never told anyone about. He saw unspeakable acts of violence, things the nogitsune had forced him to know, to see and feel. Things that Stiles… That he knew.


    He didn’t have the strength the nogitsune did, but he had knowledge. He knew the moves, he knew how to follow the flow and rhythm of a fight. He knew how to win.


     That’s it. Fight, Stiles. Fight for your life.


    He blinked and when he opened his eyes time started again.


    Faster than he knew he could move Stiles had grabbed the beta’s outstretched wrist and sidestepped, wrenching his arm around, causing the were to crash headfirst against the wall.


    Stiles back up some, putting some distance between them as he glanced around once more, this time finding a short metal pipe laying on the ground. He picked it up, gripping it firmly as the werewolf shook himself off and growled.


    The were roared loudly, Stiles flinching back in fear at the sheer rage in the howl. He swallowed thickly, forcing a fake shout of bravado through his fear. “Come on!”