A/N: Sorry if anyone was following other stories and disappointed in this new, random one. I just had to do it! Episode five was seriously the greatest acting from Dylan since season 3B. And the whole thing was just insane. So here is a little of what was going on in Stiles' head as he left the school to drive home. Enjoy! Sorry if it feels choppy. I think Stiles' mind was all over the place, so it felt alright to do.

And since I always forget,

I do not own Teen Wolf, sadly.

-Kenxi

"Breathe, Stiles. Come on, breathe."

Stiles couldn't help it as he spoke to himself through his dangerously uneven breathing, his entire core trembling with this… whatever this was. Guilt? Fear? Post-Traumatic Stress? The blood on his hands was all too much like the nightmares from when he was possessed, too many feelings to process in the middle of this hurricane of thoughts racing through his head.

What happened to Donovan? It was Stiles' fault, right? He sent the beams crashing down on him. He left him there to die…. But he was going to die anyway, right? It wasn't all his fault. Time was the issue. He called the cops, didn't he? That counted for something. That definitely counted. But was Donovan even dead? Had he somehow survived by some insane miracle or curse? Stiles didn't even know what it was, what those teeth were which had broken into his skin like knives….

Stiles unconsciously rubbed his shoulder with an unsteady hand, but his entire body was far too numb to feel anything. Numb. Was he going into shock? Or was this just the panic attack, right below the surface? He had to solve this. Stiles had to solve this.

His foot stiffened against the gas pedal as he tried to steady his breaths. "Breathebreathebreathe." But that just caused his throat to tighten more, making it difficult to even get air into his lungs. It reminded him of when Scott was still human with his lousy asthma. His eyes widened in even more panic.

"Scott," he gasped out in horror, the name hardly audible at all.

Since when had Scott not been the first person Stiles turned to in a crisis? The first person he thought of for help or comfort? When had their friendship changed to a point where Stiles felt he could only rely on himself to fix everything? The small, shaky gasps were coming in faster now as Stiles gripped the wheel tight. Because the real question wasn't all that difficult to ask.

When did Stiles change?

He pressed his lips firmly together, trying to even out his breathing by taking in air through his nose while he drove. The night was dark, even with the bright moon and his yellow headlights to light it. Even with all of the access to illumination, the darkness was still overwhelming, overpowering and tangible. Just like when he had lost his mind and body to the Nogitsune. Just like when he had changed.

The paranoia, stress, anxiety—it had been bad before, but ever since the real battle of his life, all of that had just progressed. And it was eating him alive in his dreams, in the shadows, in the case files his dad brought home and the policemen on the scanner he kept in his room and in his Jeep. Stiles felt that if he could just grasp onto anything that brought him those painful feelings, then he could fix them. He could fix himself.

But he'd been bringing Scott into his crazy head for a while now, and no matter if Stiles was right or wrong, the rift between the two brothers widened. Perhaps in this feverish moment Stiles was over thinking everything, but he could still see it. The painful, slowly weakening bond. Scott was so focused on everything that he couldn't even see anything. Stiles sought out the small things. The details. And Scott...just didn't understand him anymore. Scott couldn't understand him.

Stiles took in a slow-albeit still irregular-breath for the first time in the last twenty minutes. He hadn't been this honest with himself in years. It was terrifying, especially as his reality came crushing down on him, on his lungs.

He couldn't tell Scott.

Not yet, anyway. For something that was once instinctive, Stiles now couldn't even imagine telling his best friend that he had…killed someone. What would he tell him anyway? Stiles didn't even know what had happened! He was attacked. He saw his way of survival up above…. That was it, right? He hadn't killed anyone, it was an accident, right? Just a horrible accident that Scott might blame him for throughout eternity. He could lose his best friend. And the idea of losing Scott... Stiles shook his head quickly to drown out the thought. How could he expect his friends to trust him when he couldn't even trust himself?

The dreams had come back since the Nogitsune. For a while they had left, but now they haunted him once more. Images of people dying, of setting traps and twisting a sword into his best friend. What if Stiles really was losing his mind? No tricks, just the plain, useless Stiles Stilinski, finally letting the stress of his life affect him?

No one was on the streets, but Stiles couldn't keep his breathing controlled enough, and he had just enough sanity to not want to crash by passing out while driving or just getting pulled over at all. He didn't need any questions asked right now. Besides, his Jeep was already hanging on just barely. He hit the brake hard as soon as he was off the road and killed the engine and the lights, swallowed by the familiar darkness.

A sob escaped his dry lips, a hand coming up to cover it, even as it sounded in the utter silence.

What did he do?

Stiles threw his head back against the seat once, then again and again, as if that would bring some genius thought to his mind. As if any sane thought would come. Because his tether to sanity was barely hanging in. Just like his Jeep.

He had killed someone.

A teenager.

Now Stiles wasn't having any trouble getting air in, but instead he was getting too much as he began to hyperventilate, the quick gasps shaking him even more.

Why couldn't he control himself? Why couldn't he be more like Scott? So sure of himself, so self-righteous and good. What was Stiles compared to him, anyway? A human. The only real human in the pack who happened to get bad anxiety and every now and again panic attacks with no self-control or heroic parts of him. Why couldn't he be a hero like the others? Heck, he couldn't even listen to Lydia who told him once to breathe, then to hold his breath….

Thrown off by the memory, Stiles shut his mouth like an obedient dog. Immediately he felt as though he were suffocating, but he refused to let air in. Most panic attacks weren't about not getting enough air, but getting too much, causing light headedness. That's what he had been told once. That, and to force his mind to believe that there was no reason to panic. That he wasn't in danger, no need to waste energy. You aren't in danger, Stiles pushed the thought into his mind. Everything was peachy. Really. Great girlfriend, friends, best friend, dad, Melissa. He was alright. Everything was alright.

His heartbeat slowed with the convincing lies, and Stiles sucked in a full, even breath for the first time since his attack. He had to figure this out. He had to. Stiles always figured it out, right? This wasn't the first problem he'd ever faced. Not at all. He'd spent years facing problems, swallowing the panic. He could do it again. Just like he always had. He could move forward, keep going, keep making jokes, keep helping a best friend...who couldn't even see how frightened he really was.

Who didn't even know the truth.

Stiles punched the wheel as hard as he could with a yell on his lips.

His fingers were still tingling from his recent panic, so he hardly felt the pain and ran his hands through his dark hair, over his shoulders, and finally clasped them tightly together. If it wasn't so dark, he would have seen how white his fingers were. His lower lip trembled and tears threatened to spill.

"I'm so sorry, Scott," came the broken whisper of a boy who was not yet broken.

And he let himself cry.

A/N: I was thinking about making this a two-shot, so please let me know in the reviews if you'd like to read a little bit more. I'd get it up before next week's episode. Thank you for reading! Leave a review if you can. Won't take too much time, thanks!

Post Script: And I do not recommend driving whilst in an emotional state. Just FYI.

-Kenxi