DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING, SADLY.
Black eyes. Sharp, bloody claws that scratch and dig into his flesh mercilessly and drag him out of bed.
He screams and thrashes but no one, no matter how loud he screams or who's name he calls, comes to his rescue. He's just dragged out of his house and towards the woods.
"Stop!" Stiles screeches when he feels leaves and roots dig their way up his shirt and begins to scratch as his skin.
But nothing happens. The claws dig deeper and his tears come quicker and he just screams and screams.
Stiles can't see them. He can just glance down to see two hands. One buried in the flesh of his shoulder and the other gripping his shirt for leverage.
Up above him, there are no stars. And just barely enough light for him to see branches fly past.
"Let me go!" Stiles shouts and thrashes against the grip.
But then he's being yanked up by his collar so the point where he can't breath because the neck line is pressing against his windpipe.
"He's perfect." it's a man's voice.
A voice that belongs in a documentary along side Morgan Freeman rather than in the site of a soon to be murder.
"Stop!" Stiles gasps when he's shoved roughly against a tick trunk of a tree.
"So innocent." the voice murmurs again.
And then he's being restrained and his arms are being lifted and tied to branches at a height that makes Stiles' arms ache. And he's being shoved down into a sitting position so that he feels his shoulder pop and a twinge of pain runs down his spine.
And he's being gagged and there's an ice cold hand rubbing at his neck...but he can't see anything.
There's sensations and action but...no people. He's alone.
"You won't feel a thing." the voice whispers and then he feels the gag tighten and the unmistakable feeling of a plastic cord sliding along his throat.
Stiles screams and pleads against the gag and then he feels something tap against his head...as if taking practice swings.
"We'll make it quick. Painless." the voice murmurs and then there's the icy touch of a blade just under the cord.
Stiles thrashes and screams and shuts his eyes in pure agony and terror.
"We thank you for your life." the voice whispers before he suddenly can't breath...and there's a whistling sound by his ears...and the icy slide of metal against his skin.
Stiles gasps and thrashes and looks around the room wildly.
"Stiles?"
He's safe. He's fine.
He's with Derek. He's fine.
"Stiles?" said werewolf sits on the edge of the bed and places a comforting hand on the teenager's leg.
"...just a dream." Stiles mumbles and nods.
"It's okay. You're safe." Derek states as he leans forward to place a reassuring kiss on his boyfriend's forehead.
"...Any news?" Stiles croaks out.
"...no new deaths. They found the girl in the woods. Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine. Just another bad dream."
"Stiles...you barely slept an hour. At this rate, you'll go insane. You haven't slept in days."
"I'm okay, Derek. They're just nightmares. I'll get over it."
"You said that about Jackson. You still have bad dreams about your dad, and he's been gone for months. Stiles these aren't just nightmares. Not when I can't wake you up. You're stuck inside these...night terrors...until they end. What was going on?"
"...they found me. They were dragging me from my room and...and I couldn't stop them. I could feel the cord and the blade and...and I felt it, Derek."
"They aren't going to touch you, Stiles." Derek promises for the umpteenth times before pecking the boy gently.
"That's what everyone says." Stiles sighs and turns to look out the window.
"...Stiles?"
"I'm going to try and get some sleep. Maybe I'll be able to get a few minutes."
"That's what you keep saying." Derek mutters and watches as his boyfriend snuggles back under the blankets and shuts his eyes. "I'll be right here."
"Swear?"
"I'll be here when you wake up."
"...okay."
Crows. Just like in the class room.
They're pounding against the Loft windows and Stiles is frozen right in front of them. There's a shatter of glass and suddenly he's being attacked.
"No!"