It's all coming back to me now

He doesn't know where he is or how long he's been there. He's trapped and everywhere he turns there's a wall closing in on him. He can see the forest and the trees but he can't get to them, can't get out, because every time he tries it's like an invisible barrier keeping him inside. And he has to leave because everything smells like wolf, like predator, like killer. He can hear their voices and how they walk around but their growls don't make sense and he's too disoriented to understand if they're coming closer or not. But no matter how hard he scratches at the walls, how he desperately tries to claw away the floorboards he's still inside and can't get out. Before long he's exhausted himself to the point where he just can't keep his eyes open anymore and he drifts off, curled up in a small ball of sore muscles and barely contained panic.

::

Someone must be in the room because it smells even stronger of wolf now. The shock makes him lash out blindly, barely awake as he is, but whoever was there is already standing outside the room again and his claws swipe harmlessly through the air. The wolf keeps growling and he hisses back fiercely as he prowls the length and breadth of the room, daring the predator to come closer. He knows his chances in a fight aren't good but it's his only chance of getting out. But the wolf doesn't move over the threshold, only growls at him from outside the room and when he tries to attack he hits that invisible barrier and is thrown back. As he blearily tries to regain his footing he can see the wolf turn away and leave. There's a bottle of water and food on the floor next to the door and his stomach rumbles at the sight of it but he can't. Everything smells of the wolf and he knows it isn't safe.

::

He knows it's been a while since there's more food in the room but he keeps refusing to eat despite the fact that his stomach is screaming for food. The wolf comes back, he always comes back, with more food and bottles of water and he stands in the doorway as he hisses, tries to attack and scratches the room to pieces. And the wolf growls all the time, and no matter what he does, how much he tries to goad the wolf into a fight, he keeps growling at him from outside the room.

But then suddenly wolf's crying instead, and it's not a wolf but a man and he knows this man. The man is Peter which makes him Stiles and then it's all coming back to him, the attack, the beast that tore at his shoulder, the pain and the blood and the darkness that dragged him under despite Peter's desperate pleas for him to stay awake.

::

Peter can see the exact moment when the feral state that Stiles has been in since he was turned lifts.

"Lydia" he all but roars, wiping a sleeve across his face. "Get the damn mountain ash." And then they're left standing awkwardly on either side of the mountain ash line, reaching for each other and then pulling back when they remember that they can't touch yet, as Lydia's heels comes clicking closer and closer. And then the black powder is brushed aside and Lydia jumps out of the way and Stiles leaps into Peter's arms. He can't imagine how he ever felt threatened by this scent as he buries his nose against Peter's neck, breathing in deep lungfuls of the smell of wolf-mate-mine.

::

It's much later and he's made up for all the food he refused earlier. He's had a shower and Peter's taken great care to remove even the smallest trace of the feral alpha's scent on his skin. Now he's warm and content but he still needs to ask the question that has been on the tip of his tongue since he saw his shift in the mirror.

"Does it bother you?" he asks and Peter shifts to pull him closer.

"Does what bother me?"

"That I'm a fox, not a wolf."

"No" Peter says immediately and his heartbeat is steady under Stiles' ear. "I already knew you were a mischievous little shit" he adds casually and the sudden bloom of affection that Stiles had started feeling gives way to indignation.

"Hey!" It's about to get violent but then Peter smiles at him, that rare private smile that's so different from the one he uses in public, and Stiles almost forgets to be angry. He can totally get his revenge later.