This is a work of fan fiction. No profit is being made.

Stiles watched through the partially open doorway as Ms. Morrell packed up her desk. She stopped wearing her brace about a week ago but she still moved as if her arm hurt her. He glanced down both sides of the hallway, worried that someone would see him creeping around, but it was the last day of school and everyone had cleared out as quickly as they could. He leaned against the wall and tried to work up the nerve to talk to her. It was harder, now that he knew she was partially responsible for what had happened, but he needed someone. He just about had himself talked into knocking when she looked up and saw him.

"Stiles, is there something I can do for you?"

"Heeey," He jumped and moved into the classroom, babble spilling from his lips as soon as he passed through the doorway. "Nice to see you all mobile again. It took awhile. He really got you good, didn't he? Or does that whole 'alpha wounds take longer to heal' thing work on humans too? Which is totally unfair, especially since he didn't even use his claws."

"Stiles." She interrupted. Her look was one of fond patience, gently telling him it was time to get to the point. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I know you're technically off the clock but I think I'm losing my mind and I could really use some guidance."

He kept his eyes closed but he could feel her gaze on him, assessing. "Help me take this box to my car and we'll go somewhere we can talk."

"You know, it's easier to offer guidance when I know what the issue is."

He figures the exasperation in her tone is fair, considering they have been sitting in silence for the last twenty minutes while he fidgeted with the smoothie she was nice enough to buy him. "Yeah, I know. I'm just not sure where to start."

"Most people say it's best to start at the beginning. Personally, I prefer in media res."

"In the middle of things." He muses out loud. This is partly why it was always so easy to talk to her. She knew how to distract him from his turmoil and give him an opening to talk at the same time. "Do you know about the ritual Deaton did with us after our parents went missing?"

"Yes."

"He said that it would change us."

"Death changes everyone."

He nods, "I've been having nightmares."

"Perfectly understandable after everything you've been through."

"I thought so, too and that's what they were at first. Perfectly normal post-traumatic-event nightmares: we messed up the ritual and died, I was too late and everyone got crushed, or the bat broke and we all died together. More often than not, I wake up screaming. Dad has been really great about it. He sits with me every time. I think he feels guilty, like if he were a better dad then I would have trusted him with the truth. Which is stupid, because he's the awesomist dad ever." His voice cracks and he breathes deep to hold back the tears. Ms. Morrell wraps her hand around his wrist and squeezes, offering silent support.

"Perfectly normal dreams," he repeats, once he has control of himself. "Then they changed. Most of them start the same way. I'm walking through the woods and I find the nemeton. Sometimes, I hear chanting but I can't see anyone. Others, I can see a group of people but it's like looking through mist."

"What are they saying?"

"I don't know the language. Which is weird, cuz it's my head. I've had dreams in other languages but I always know what's being said. Though, I'm not sure I want to know what they're saying because every time I can see people it looks like they're in the middle of a sacrifice, but those aren't the worst dreams."

"What are?"

"They're the only ones where I don't see the nemeton. I'm just standing there, in the middle of the woods, it's quiet and peaceful. Suddenly, it feels like someone is sawing me in half. I've never felt pain like that before and it stays with me the whole next day."

"You feel the pain of your dreams?" she asks sharply.

"Yeah, not like it is in the dream but still bad. The part that really has me worried is the sleepwalking. The first time, I woke up because I ran into my door. Dad woke me up on the stairs one night. But last night..."

"What happened last night?"

"I made it to the nemeton," he murmured. "I woke up on top of the nemeton."