A/N: So, I've been... doing nothing constructive. Watching TV episodes... rewatching TV episodes... reading others' fanfictions... All that good stuff. Buuut, I got an idea and couldn't not write it, so, here's the prologue. It's super short and I apologize if it's boring (it's better in Chapter 1), but I just needed to set it up for the first Chapter. I don't know how fast I'll write this, but I will try to actually freaking finish it.

I just thought that Stiles got over being possessed by a trickster spirit too easily and needed a little (a lot) acknowledgement of that, so that's where the title inspiration came from. It's a work in progress; may change it later. And I just love a little Derek and Stiles dynamic, so I had to torture them both. XP

This is unbeta-ed, so... beware. And, hey, if you're looking to be someone's beta reader...

Timeline: Takes place after Season 3, before Season 4

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Prologue

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His phone rings.

The sound chimes through his skull, chasing away the remnants of sleep like the flip of a switch. He abruptly sits up, blindly reaching to the blurry rectangle of light on his nightstand and sliding his finger across the screen. The smudged numbers reading 'one thirty-six' quickly disappear.

"Hello?" he rushes out, knowing that for anyone to call him at this hour, it'd have to be significant.

"Scott?" says a frantic, feminine voice, laced with panic.

"Lydia?" He starts, rising to his feet while pressing the phone harder against his ear. "What are you-"

"You need to get to Derek's - now. I... Stiles went inside and... and - something's wrong, Scott, he told me to call you," she rambles, voice pitched higher than usual.

"Okay, okay. I'm on my way," he reassures and grabs his jacket, glad he'd fallen asleep with at least his sweats and a tank top. "Where is Stiles now? Why is he at Derek's?" Why is something wrong? He practically falls down the stairs and stumbles out the door, almost forgetting his bike's keys.

"I..." Her voice drifts off to silence, then a sharp buzzing noise grates against Scott's sensitive ears, sounding warped as if transmitting through water. It cuts off suddenly and he can only hear silence and hesitant breathing once more, as if his ears malfunctioned.

"Lydia?" The rumbling of his bike's engine thwarts his hearing, but he can't risk pausing for a response, he reminds himself, as he rolls down his street towards Derek's flat. "Lydia, can you-" Her breathing picks up and the phone is rustling against something, presumably her cheek. Running; she's running. "What is it? Lydia, what's going on?" The thumping of his own heart accelerates as he tries to keep his swirling thoughts at bay, at least until he gets there. "Lydia!"

The rustling has stopped, but he can still hear her labored breaths brushing against her phone's speaker.

"I..." she croaks. "I don't..." Even over the phone, he can hear her swallow. "Stiles?" she squeaks and then there's more rustling.

"What?" The panic climbs a notch higher until it feels like a boulder is set on his chest. "What's happening - are they okay? Lydia, tell me what's going on!" Desperation clogs his throat, forcing him to count his breaths and time them - one, two, three, four, five, in - one, two, three, four, five, out...

"I-I'm... I don't know." She sounds distracted and it's driving Scott's mind into overdrive. "Stiles! Stiles, wake up," she whispers, her breaths pounding static into his ear.

"Lydia-"

"He won't wake up," she almost snaps, the words stiff and terse, and Scott freezes on his bike, his hands sticky and wet as they grip the handles with werewolf strength. He takes a deep breath through his nose and prompts his brain to keep functioning. Take a breath, concentrate, what are the details?

"... What do you mean he won't wake up?" he manages.

"I mean he won't wake up! Stiles went in, s-something... flashed, and now he's unconscious. I... I-I don't see any head injury, I..." The phone shifts against her ear. "I don't see Derek anywhere... Stiles?" he hears, Lydia's voice muffled as she tries to wake their friend. "He won't wake up."

"Okay, um..." he clenches his jaw and tries to think a more coherent thought that doesn't involve the blinding panic swarming his head. "Something flashed?"

"Yeah, like a... a... It was like a flash of-of light, but... it wasn't..." she stutters, each word forced from her mouth.

"What? Lydia, you're not making-"

"It was like a flash of light, but it was dark instead. Like a flash of... dark..."

A flash of dark.

Well.

That doesn't sound good.

"Lydia, I'm on my way. Don't hang up, but try to find Derek, or even Peter." A small squeak comes from the other line. "I know, but what choice do we have? I'm almost there."

"Okay," comes the simple but still trembling reply.

"Okay," he repeats, forcing confidence into his tone. For her sake.

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A/N: So, there's the prologue. If you didn't like it, I hope you'll stick around for Chapter 1. Especially if you like hurt!Stiles. I'M SORRY. But I'm not sorry for having caring!Derek. B) If you love the TW bromances, stay close.

Leave a review, my lovelies, they are the input, chapters are the output!