Stiles stared at the wall, simply thinking about the white noise that buzzed through his head while Allison talked. God, her voice was so annoying. He noted that if he really was as evil as everyone was suggesting, that he should kill her off first, and make it look like an accident.
"Stiles…?" Scott's voice was like the bang of a gong, crisp and clear and deep. Stiles lifted his head and watched them all staring at him; he shifted uncomfortably.
"I'm fine, excuse me…" He sat up and walked to the front door, "Where are you-"Scott was cut off as Stiles slammed the door shut.
He could feel the buzzing of a headache starting at the base of his scalp, it skittered to his temple and started throbbing, forcing him to close his eyes. He gripped the outside railing of the porch and held on, breathing in through his nose. His muscles started to tighten as he felt the pain expand, flowing down to his shoulders, chest, and stomach. Was he having a panic attack? They didn't usually start like this. He fell to his knees and waited for the pain to ease, but it never did. He slid onto the wooded floor paneling; he felt his cheek contact the cool wood, his head rested on his arm as the world spun before him.
"Stiles…Stiles…is he okay?"
"I don't know! Get my mom!"
"Stiles! Stiles can you hear me?"
Time made no sense; he couldn't tell if it was day or night. The world was spinning so violently that he was going to be sick. He couldn't speak or think any coherent thoughts. He simply lie there, in agony.
"In the car, c'mon, Scott can you carry him?" Stiles felt the cool wood leave his skin, all his nerve endings screamed as Scott touched him. He felt fire in all the places that Scott's skin made contact. He moaned softly and felt himself being rushed to the car in Scott's arms. He felt every step the alpha took the up down movement made him feel even worse; he just wanted to lie back down on the ground and sleep, or pass out, or something.
He felt Scott lay him across the back seat; the pain in his head was shattering, like pieces of glass were stabbing the backs of his eyes. He moaned louder this time, he felt Scott catch his breath.
"Mom…!" Scott whispered, breathless.
"C'mon…" Melissa slammed the driver's side door as Scott and Lydia got in the back.
"He's not breathing," Lydia noted a few feet down the road.
Stiles felt Scott press his ear gently to his chest, listening for a heartbeat.
"Yes he is, I can hear it," Scott whispered.
"His chest isn't moving, he's so still, Scott what's wrong with him?" Lydia's hysterical voice seemed to sooth his agony.
"Stiles, can you hear me? Nod or something…" Thud, the car hit the curb and next came Melissa's voice, frantic and professional.
"Scott, bring him around back, I don't want anyone getting word of this, not yet…" Stiles felt Scott lift him from the warm leather seat and into the cold, September air. The air felt like ice and fire trying to penetrate his skin, he moaned and felt Scott hurry a little faster, Lydia's footsteps were right at his heels.
"Gently," Melissa cautioned; Stiles felt the softness of cotton bed sheets as Scott lowered him onto them.
"Mom, he's not breathing…" Now the panic in Scott's voice worried Stiles. He was definitely still alive, but he felt as if he were stuck in a dream. His physical body was asleep and wouldn't let him wake up, he was still in pain, but it was slowly receding, molecule by molecule.
"What do we do?" A new, even more familiar voice wondered.
"Derek, how did you know?" Scott sounded slightly relieved.
"I can smell, idiot. I'm pretty sure even Cora could smell you, and she's on the other side of the country." Derek sounded exasperated.
"He just collapsed on the porch, so we brought him here…" Lydia explained in a rush.
"You brought him here and not to me? What if this is something supernatural, do you want the police to know what we all are?" Derek grumbled, Stiles could almost hear him shaking his head.
"That was my bad," Melissa apologized.
Stiles could feel Derek run his hands over him, his chest, his arms, his forehead, trying to find some kind of ailment.
"I have no idea what to do; this isn't my area of expertise." Derek sounded disgruntled.
Stiles wanted to shout, to crawl through the shell of flesh that was keeping him back. He couldn't do anything but struggle against the mysterious bondage that held him.
"Derek! Derek! I'm fine! I'm alive! Derek!" Stiles shouted, ripping at his flesh, thrashing at the table he laid on. But still, he couldn't see anything, he could only hear their feet shuffling, intakes of breath, Lydia's worried whimpers.
"Wait, do you guys hear that?" Lydia sucked in a breath and gasped.
"Hear what?" Scott's gong like voice echoed around the room.
"Screaming…" Lydia whispered, shushing them.
Stiles could picture Lydia holding her strawberry blonde hair back as she tried to decipher the mysterious sounds that came through to her.
"LYIDA! LYDIA CAN YOU HEAR ME!?" Stiles screamed at the top of his lungs, wheezing for breath.
"It's Stiles! Stiles, I can hear you!" She sounded terrified, but relieved.
"LYDIA, GET ME OUT OF HERE…I'M TRAPPED…" Stiles breathed in and tried to calm down, but the space he was in was getting claustrophobic.
"Trapped? Stiles…where are you, we'll come get you." Lydia's voice was even more frantic now.
"I'm alive...I'm inside…"
"Inside, inside what…?" Lydia huffed.
"Myself…" Stiles breathed.