Get Home
A/N: This was inspired by Bastille's song titled "Get Home". The first chapter is more of a background on Stiles' emotions and inner workings of his mind post-sacrifice. More character, dialogue, and complex storylines will be introduced as the story progresses. The writing style and sentence structure is a bit choppy because that's how I imagine Stiles' mind- unfocused and a stream of thought. Also, I will try to follow the story line following 3x18 but for the most part this is canon from 3x17-but I will allude to references from the 3x18 trailer. This is a Stiles and Lydia story, but will also focus on friendships between Stiles and Scott, Alison and Lydia, and Isaac and Derek's relation to the core group. Pairings include Stiles and Lydia (Stydia) and Scott and Alison (Scalison). Enjoy and please comment!
"We are the last people standing at the end of the night. We are the greatest pretenders in the cold morning light. This is just another night. And we've had many of them. To the morning we're cast out again. But I know I'll land here again"
Stiles wasn't himself. It scared-no terrified- him that he could be a killer without even knowing. Stiles was the good guy. He wasn't a hero, but he sure wasn't the villain. He was the human. The weak link. The stumbling teenager who pined after Lydia and played detective. He wasn't a cold blooded killer.
The realization was like a slap to the face. He didn't want to worry Scott. Scott had his own issues with being a werewolf, the aftermath of the sacrifice, Alison and Isaac, and Kira. He couldn't burden Scott with his own problems, he just couldn't. Deaton is a surrogate father to Scott and Alison and Isaac have a budding romance. But Stiles and Lydia? Lydia had her own issues to work out. Plus she was always with Aiden. Sure she helped him solve mysteries and they worked well together as some semblance of a dream team, but his issues weren't solvable.
It's not like he could turn like Scott or lean on Isaac like Alison did. He couldn't even differentiate between real life and fantasy. Each day the lines blurred. Dream within dreams, sleep paralysis, how much more could he take before he becomes a shell of the sarcastic teenager he once was?
He needed a plan and he needed one quickly. He tried talking to Deaton, but once he could read again he thought his problems would be solved. Things grew progressively worse. He would blank out for hours. Missing fragments of hours, even days. It was like his memory was a giant puzzle and the gaps were widening. He needed help.
Stiles drove as fast he could to the hospital. The minimal sleep was catching up to him. He was afraid of closing his eyes. What if when he closed his eyes he killed someone? The next thing he knew he was being injected with a needed as Mrs. McCall tucked him into the bed.
When he awoke he was in the middle of the hall and Scott was asking if he was alright. He lied. This wasn't Scott's problem. It was his. He was the one who heard about the murder of Laura Hale on the police and convinced Scott to come along. It was all his fault and now he was paying penance.
He was being haunted. Everywhere he turned he saw pure darkness. The hooded figures circled him dauntingly. Sounds get muffled, lights dim. He cries silently for help, begging his body to move, to scream, to do something. How am I going to get myself back home?
Would anyone even care if he just faded into nothing? He was nothing before the bite. Scott had said so himself that things were better, normal, and they were happy being nothing. It was Scott and Stiles versus the world, when their biggest problems were lacrosse and the SATs. How he would give anything to become nothing again. Please find me.
He called Scott. Scott was the only one who knew. Scott would save him. Stiles clung onto the shred of hope that Scott would find him before it was too late. He wasn't fearful for his life anymore. The fear had dissipated and in its wake left worry and pain. Maybe it was good that he was gone. What if something didn't possess him? What if this was actually him?
Scott had looked everywhere for Stiles. He tried the school, the library, his house, Milly's, and even Lydia's. He had asked the rest of the pack to help him. Something wasn't right. They always taken Stiles for granted. Stiles is always the one who figured it out. He had never realized that while he had Deaton and Allison had Isaac, Stiles didn't have anyone. For the first time in a long time he realizes that Stiles is human. He is breakable. Fragile. Stiles wasn't supernatural and he didn't have the ability to protect himself much less his father and the pack. He knew Stiles didn't want his father involved and he couldn't bear to think what would happen if Stiles lost both his parents. He had no choice; the sheriff had to get involved. It hurt him to know that while he was enamored with Kira his best friend wasn't sleeping or eating and dealing with something that was way out of his capabilities. When Stiles called him pleading in a broken voice for Scott to find him, his heart shattered.
"Stiles, you there?"
"Scott?" he said disbelievingly.
"Why are you whispering?" Even using his werewolf enhanced abilities it was difficult to hear Stiles. Isaac leaned in beside him.
"I don't think I can get out of here. I can't move."
"Stiles! Where are you?"
"I don't know! They're after me"
"Stiles why are you whispering?"
"Because I think there's someone in here with me"
"Stiles? Hello? Stiles are you there?"
"Stiles, we're coming to find you", Scott urged and hung up the call.
"The demons took Stiles", Scott stated, the truth in his statement seeping out in his voice.
"Well, what are we going to do?" Derek shot out, with an expectant look on his face as if he was waiting for Scott to devise a plan.
"Even if we all split up and searched every corner of Beacon Hills there is no guarantee we will find him in time. Time is running out. We need help"
Isaac whipped out his phone and dialed Alison's number. He could vaguely distinguish the words flowing. His brain was going in overtime. Thoughts flooded his mind and panic covered them like a sheet.
"Lydia and Alison are on their way", Isaac informed.
Scott shakily dialed the sheriff's number. His anxiety grew as the ringing continued.
"Hello? Scott?"
"Hey sheriff, can you meet me at Derek's loft. It's about Stiles"
"I'm on my way. What about Stiles? Is it a panic attack?"
"I'll explain when you get here. It's urgent" Scott mumbled and promptly ended the call.
Lydia appeared next to him. "Scott, I'm hearing voices. It was Stiles; he's calling for help" Lydia meekly explained, her eyes glued to the ground understanding the paramount of the situation.
"Lydia, we'll find him. Right now I need your help. I need you to focus. Can you get any idea of where he may be? Do you hear something?"
"Voices" she responded gravely. Moments later she burst with agitation.
"I don't know Scott. I can't control it. They're getting louder!" Lydia covered her ears with her hands and sunk to the floor.
Sheriff Stilinski burst into the loft. He pulled the sheriff aside to explain the dilemma in the gentlest way possible.
"So you know how each of us has a door open in our minds because of the sacrifice?" He nodded his head. "Stiles' door isn't closed yet. We think something has possessed him to murder people and now these creatures, demons, are after him. They won't stop and we don't know how to save him or where he is", I gasped at the end of the sentence, the words coming out of my mouth in a burst of air.
"Lydia might have a clue", I offered helplessly seeing the pained expression on the sheriff. He ran over to Lydia and grabbed her by the shoulders.
"Where is he?!" the sheriff roared with fury and rage. Scott had never seen him so distraught before-except for the day Stiles' mother died.
That was the question on everyone's mind. Where is Stiles?
