Stiles felt hollow. He was driving home from meeting the pack, but he had an awful feeling in the back of his mind that he hadn't shared with his friends for fear that if he spoke it aloud, it may be more real. More true. He'd been abnormally quiet as they'd actually just hung out for once. But only Scott had noticed, and he'd made up some lame excuse about being tired. But in reality, he'd been thinking. Worrying. He didn't know how it could happen though. It was impossible, he'd closed the door in his mind. Nothing else could get in again. But he had the sinking sensation that it was back. Back to torment him again, back to torture his friends. Back for revenge. But who would he choose this time? Would he come back for Stiles? Or would he choose a new host? Did he actually get out? How would he have gotten out? The questions kept bouncing around his head, over and over again, tormenting him. He was going through all of the possibilities into how the fox could have possibly gotten out that he didn't see the deer wander into the road until it was right in his headlights. Stiles cursed and jerked the wheel to the side, narrowly missing the animal as his jeep tried to keep up with what it's owner demanded of it. The passenger side wheels lifted off the ground and before he knew what was happening, the car was on its side and kept going.
Stiles was thrown around as glass exploded around him, cutting into his hands, his arms, his face. His head hit the doorframe of the drivers' side, where broken and jagged glass embedded itself into his scalp. The jeep came to a rest on its hood, Stiles still strapped in by his seatbelt, upside down. Blood dripped down on to the inside roof of the car as Stiles' arms hung above him. He shook his head to try and clear the fogginess covering his vision. The blood was rushing to his head and he tried to undo his seatbelt to let gravity pull him back upwards, but it wouldn't budge. "Help." He said weakly, before clearing his throat. "Is anybody there!" he yelled breathlessly. But his voice sounded weak. He tried undoing the seatbelt again, this time with more luck, it clicked open and he threw his arms up to catch himself. He hit the roof of the car hard, and his vision went black for a minute. He shook his head to clear it. Bad idea. Pain shot through his skull, and red filled his vision as blood dripped down past his eye. He reached up and touched his head where most of the pain was coming from. His hand came away red with blood. "Shit." He whispered. He looked around for his phone and found it thrown not far from him. The screen was shattered, but when he put his finger on the sensor, it unlocked with a click. He dialed Scott right before his vision got blurry and he grasped it in pain. Something wasn't right, but he couldn't identify it. It took him a minute to realize he was having a really hard time breathing. His vision swirled again as he heard someone calling his name. "Stiles you there? Stiles. Hello? Dude, did you butt dial me again?" He heard his best friend chuckle, but he was too busy clutching his chest with one hand and his head with another. His head ached and he felt dizzy. Everything was spinning. His stomach rolled and he leaned over to puke. But as soon as his chest heaved pain broke through worse than anything he'd ever imagined. He collapsed next to his pile of vomit only to realize a second later it was mostly blood he'd coughed up. "Well." He said weakly. "That's probably not good." He said.
"Stiles! Are you okay?" He heard dimly. But the phone wasn't in his hand anymore. Somehow it had fallen near his head when he'd toppled over. Scott's voice sounded so far away, but he could still see his phone near his head. He tried reaching for it but his hands suddenly felt so heavy. "Stiles! Where are you?" Scott was saying, voice filled with worry now.
"Scott. Scott don't tell my dad. I don't want him to worry." Stiles said weakly.
"Stiles where are you!" Scott was yelling now, panic in his voice. If Stiles was telling him not to tell his dad something, it could only mean one thing. Stiles was hurt. Badly. He didn't know what had happened, but he was already running to his bike outside, jacket barely over his shoulders from throwing it on so quickly. He threw his helmet on and opened the visor, putting his phone on speaker. "Stiles!"
"Near the high school." He heard Stiles whisper, barely conscious now. Scott stuck the phone in his helmet, wedged tightly between his hear and the inside material and started up his bike. He barely had time to let the engine start before he hit the gas.
Back at the jeep, Stiles was fighting to stay conscious. Out of nowhere, he heard someone whisper in his ear. "Stiles…" Stiles heartrate picked up speed. "Are you scared to die Stiles…" He would know that voice anywhere. He'd had nightmares of it regularly since he'd had to live the nightmare. "Because you are you know… you're dying.." The voice sounded so close to his ear. Almost from within his head. He had no more energy to turn his head to see if his fears were real. All he could do was close his eyes tightly. "Do you remember me, Stiles… Do you remember what you did to me?"
"Stiles! Are you there? Stay on the phone with me Stiles. I'm coming your way." He heard Scott yell into the phone. But Stiles couldn't really process the words he was saying. The voice in his head was echoing too hard.
"You made the mistake to try to beat me at my own game. You made me disappear after all that time I tried to break out, Stiles." It said slowly. "And now… I'm going to make you disappear." Stiles' eyes relaxed, not feeling the pain anymore. Not feeling much of anything except fear. And even that was waning. "Say goodbye to your friend Stiles. Go on. Warn him, Stiles…"
Stiles turned his head just enough to put his mouth near the phone. His fear was lessening as unconsciousness took over. He felt a metallic liquid coming up his throat and into his mouth, and found it hard to speak anything, let alone around the blood pooling in his mouth. "Scott…" He whispered. "F-"
Stiles coughed, turning the pavement red, and sending a shooting pain throughout his chest. The pain overwhelmed him and blackness descended. But he needed to warn Scott. "Five…" He whispered into the phone, and then everything went black.