AN: This is the long, possibly awaited sequel to Fallout(which was a sequel to Silenced Wounds that you probably don't have to read either of). As for my excuse for the wait, there were family issues and personal issues and I didn't want to write something that dealt with something so dark to be honest with you all. Also, while I knew the plot of the story I wasn't sure how to go about it. Thanks to a much needed few hours of sleep my mind was able to concoct the first chapter.
This will disregard season 3B, so everyone is still here. It may possibly play a bit with the whole 'darkness around their hearts' thing that season 3A mentioned at the end. However, I might put my own little twist on that with what I see a 'darkness around your heart' to mean a bit. To simplify this...3B NEVER happened. Except for what happened in Fallout. Title is subject to change because I hate it, so if anyone has any suggestions feel free.
Summary: It gets bearable after a few days go by, it's easier. The nightmares aren't real anymore, they aren't happening all over again and no one's asking any questions. Until the nightmares become reality once again and he's not sure if hiding it would be smart but he might be a little scared.
Warnings: Nightmares, mention of rape of a child, possible triggers. I'll make sure to warn you each chapter.
It gets better, at least, they tell you it does. In fact, that's a lot of what Stiles heard his first few weeks of 'recovery' as he heard it be called. The word was tossed around between Scott and Derek, Melissa and his father, his father and his therapist but it doesn't faze him. They could call it whatever they wanted, that was the least of his problems. He was personally more concerned with trying to control the nightmares, trying to push away the memories and trying to pretend like he hadn't fallen apart only days earlier. He still gets them, the nightmares. He still dreams about words being spat at him, whispered in his ear. He dreams about warm breath and shaky pleads that go unheard. He dreams about loose grips and rough fingers trailing his body. He wakes up and looks around, still has to search the house when he's alone. He wakes up and presses a hand to his mouth, digs teeth into his tongue, trembles and cries, trying to silence it, hoping to muffle it behind his palm. He wakes up and stumbles out of his bed, looking for an unwanted visitor behind him. Every time his feet touch the floor he's not sure if he's searching for a demon – glad for the lack of physical pain on his chest, not in but on- or if he's searching for McCall, the man who took his innocence away, the man who ruined him, the man responsible for the nightmares.
He still fears the worst, still believes the words he's heard this whole time, ringing in his head, pounding against his ears. He still believes it's not over, he's not naïve, it can't be that simple. It doesn't feel that easy...easy? It wasn't all that easy either, he can pretend it is. Pretend he doesn't wake up sobbing, holding back a scream that's dying to be released. He can do that, that's easier because unlike before...there aren't really hands holding his wrist, there isn't another body – if you could call it that – on his chest, keeping him there, pinned to the bed. He can fake it because when it's just dreams, when it's just memories, it's not real. He can fake it because he sees the worry on everyone's face when they see him, the fear and the sympathy. The sympathy and fear and worry for him, for his sleeping habits, for his health. The sympathy and fear and worry because of him. He believed them – believes, he believes them...he thinks he does anyway, when they said it wasn't his fault. Even if they were saying it for him he believes them...believed...believes. He's not sure, not when he just wakes up, not when he walks the halls, not when he sits across from his therapist, not when he play video games with Scott, not when they talk about the supernatural, not when he falls asleep. He's never sure. He says believes, he tells his therapist it's not his fault but it kind of slipped out. There's a part of him, that part of him that know how to fake everything that's telling him it's still his fault but it can't be. He doesn't want to believe it is his fault anymore.
He yawns and rubs at his eyes, smoothing the covers down as he makes his bed, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth to chew on it slightly as he looks to the bed. He tilts his head and turns, looking around, eyes landing on the clock. Scott would be here soon and he wasn't dressed, not that Scott cared, he really didn't. Scott's bike was in the shop, that was Stiles' fault. That without a doubt was Stiles' fault. Two days ago and it was definitely his fault. He had been getting gas, stopped on the way to Scott's from picking them up some pizza, Scott said they'd order but Stiles figured it'd be easier to grab gas beforehand anyway, instead of before school or, worse, before he got a phone call about an attack and had to drive to the reservation or school- a lot happens at that school, he's starting to think there might be something about that school. He would've broken down and had to run, baseball bat in hand as he tried to make it before anyone got hurt or died. It was a normal night, he was going to spend it at Scott's when he felt it.
He had one hand on the nozzle and the other in his pocket, clenching and unclenching against his phone. It had become a habit when he was alone, he felt like he always needed the security of knowing it was there. It was a precaution really, what if he was attacked but a rouge omega? Scott saw straight through that lie but didn't press any further so that's what he was going with. He smirked as he remembered hearing Issac mutter how he was partially right because it was a bitch he was talking about. Then he felt that horrible feeling, that feeling of eyes on him, watching him, watching his everymove, waiting. He felt like he was someone's prey and he turned, looking around for something, someone. His hand pressed against the car as he looked around, leaving the nozzle in as his heart pounded he licked his lips when he saw those eyes and that smirk.
His mouth fell open and he blinked a bit and then he couldn't help it, he panicked. It all rushed through him, he couldn't breathe. McCall was back, he was right there, staring at him, waiting. He hit the car and pulled out his cellphone. Scott could make it here in time, especially on that bike. He would make it here on time before McCall could even do anything, anything and surely he'd run if...
"Stiles?"
"Sc-Sc-" He couldn't breathe, he couldn't see. His vision was blurring his hand was scrambling for purchase against his jeep, his knees shook below him, giving out as he sunk to the ground. He wasn't even aware he was crying until there was a woman in front of him on her knees and the gas attendant asking if he should call nine-one-one.
Scott took that to mean something way worse than a panic attack occurred and he was on his bike heading towards Stiles before he could think. He wasn't paying enough attention to the road, trying to sense for his friend and contacted Derek or someone who could get to Stiles faster. Stiles hadn't known the exact story but apparently Scott had lost control, letting his bike skid away from him and into a tree but never stopping, he was on his feet and running. He beat the ambulance, which Stiles was grateful for because he's not a huge fan of riding in those things. He didn't know how long he sat there, unable to form words, unable to breathe but he knows it didn't stop until sometime after the EMT's arrived and he couldn't let go of Scott. When Scott asked what happened, Stiles whispered that he swore he saw his best friend's father and Scott went rigid. That night Scott and Derek searched the area for a hint of his father but they told him there was nothing and Stiles says he must've been hallucinating from an empty stomach. His father had been called to the bike scene and called Scott to ask him. Ever since then Scott shows up for a ride, even though they both know that Scott could make it faster on his feet. To be honest, Stiles doesn't mind the company, not after that hallucination. He kind of craves it, loves the concern he sees when Scott hugs him and squeezes, rubbing his thumb gently on his shoulder blade and sighing against him.
He shakes himself out of the thoughts and hurries to grab clothes to take a shower. Normally he doesn't take his clothes with him but he doesn't really want to drop his towel, unaware of his best friend climbing through the window like a true werewolf and both of them yelling and apologizing. That's a situation that's happened before and he'd love to avoid. When he comes back, he smiles when arms wrap around him, a sigh exhaled right by his hair as Scott's thumb moves across his shoulder the way he always has.
"Hey." He breathes to his friend before shimmying out of the hug to run the towel through his hair again and tossing it to the side of his room, deciding to worry about it after school. He hasn't eaten breakfast, which isn't uncommon for him these days. It seems as though he skips breakfast, pokes at his lunch at school and eats dinner. Scott makes up for it on the weekends, where they eat an entire house and a half...seriously, they eat everything at one of their houses then runs to the other. Issac, Derek, Ethan, Aiden, Allison and Lydia sometimes tag along as well. So, he guesses it's reasonable because they could be feeding anywhere from one to five werewolves, one teenage boy and zero to two teenage girls. It's weird to be part of something like this, when for a while it'd just been him and Scott. Sure, when all this werewolf stuff happened he knew it'd change a little but to have the pack of them all around him so much felt weird. He still hasn't really forgiven Ethan and Aiden but at the time he'd been so messed up, they'd been the least of his worries.
"I didn't finish my paper." Scott tells him sheepishly and Stiles outright laughs at him as the wolf blushes to his friend. "Do you think she'll mind?" Stiles shook his head, still laughing. "Stiles." Scott pouts and Stiles grins, the laughter ceasing slowly.
"You're paper isn't due until next Monday Scott." Scott frowns and looks down for a second before flushing brighter. Stiles just laughs again and slings an arm around Scott's shoulder. "God, buddy, where would you be without me?" He laughs and Scott shoves a cereal bar in his face. He frowns at it. "What the...Scott, what the hell?" He asks as he exits the house, his father already at work. The man had stopped by before he left and knew he didn't have to worry about Stiles going to school because Scott was coming.
"You didn't eat breakfast, it was this or an apple and our apples looked gross, there was no way I was gonna let you eat it." Stiles rolls his eyes and shakes his head, smiling as he takes the bar from Scott and rips it open with his hands.
"You're ridiculous but thanks. For not bringing me the apple. When I eat them the juices drip and it's a distraction, surely not safe to drive with." Scott snorts and Stiles hears the mumble about how Stiles licks the juices from his hand anyway.
"Yeah, well..." Scott pauses and Stiles raises a brow as he gets in the jeep, after a few minutes he encourages Scott to finish by asking. "You haven't really eaten since you saw..." He trails off. "You weren't really eating before then either but since then you haven't eaten more than a slice of pizza from the three you bought for gaming, a bite of potatoes at school and dinner with your dad, and two bites of pasta you made for me you and Issac." Stiles licks his lips and doesn't bother to ask how Scott knew that.
"Sorry," He apologizes and Scott goes to object but Stiles cuts him off "I hadn't noticed. I guess we both need each other huh?" He grins to Scott who smirks back. It's easy after that, like Stiles is fine and he knows Scott's just humoring him and he accepts the peanut butter and jelly sandwich from Scott and apple from Lydia at lunch. He smiles behind the sandwich and shakes his head. He had a really good friend sitting with him...really great friends.
AN: I know, you've waited so long and it's so short...it won't stay this short or this happy. Alright, so there are some details of this story I've been throwing around in my head so please, please let me have your thoughts. Jackson coming back, Danny finding out, Sheriff Stilinski still being under review? Those three are the only ones I can think of currently, anything else you all want to see let me know.
So this is my apologies for all feelings hurt.