A/N If you are worried about fire and burning, please check the note at the end before reading.


Fire. It was everywhere. Peter was surrounded by flames, closing in on him. They were licking at his legs and when he tried to shield his face with his arms, liquid fire ate through his flesh, blackening the bone of his forearm. He felt half his face melting off his skull and when he opened his mouth in a scream, the fire burned its way down to his lungs.

Peter screamed.

Blinding pain thrummed through his body while he was burning alive. He heard his skin cracking under the heat and smelled his own scorching flesh. He shouldn't even be alive like this but no matter how much of him the fire ate away, unconsciousness never came.

Vaguely he was aware that it was his house he was trapped in but why it was burning or why it never stopped, he didn't know. There was no time. Just fire and pain and his screams getting lost in the roaring of the fire.

"Peter?"

He thought he'd heard a voice calling his name but it was lost in the fire.

"Peter!" This time his name came through to him. "Peter!"

He wanted to answer but his throat was just a raw mess of burned flesh, he couldn't form words. He tried to take a step towards the voice but his leg buckled and he fell to his knees. He crashed down hard, his left arm gave out under him like crumbling paper. With his other arm, he tried to move forward but he wasn't even sure in which direction to crawl. The flames closed in over his head and all he could see with the smoke burning in his eyes was a wall flames.

"Peter." The voice was closer now and he almost thought that there was a figure behind the flames. He reached for it but his fingers only found shimmering heat that made his skin smolder.

"Peter!" The figure broke through the flames and came to a slithering halt on its knees next to him. Peter couldn't see his face, his eyes were not working properly but he didn't care who it was. Somebody was here, somebody would help him. His chest tightened in a dry sob.

"Shit." The person was hovering next to him while Peter's body got consumed by the fire. "What the fuck am I supposed to do?"

A hand grabbed him by the shoulder and there was a little spark there. As if the contact had put out the fire there. Just a tiny spot.

"Peter!" The person tried to get his attention. "This is not real, it's all in your head. Focus!"

Peter heard the words but the fire was louder, the house was cracking as if it was about to collapse and maybe that was a good thing. Was he still screaming?

"Dammit, Peter." There was a hand on his face now. On the side that hadn't melted off his skull but his skin cracked under the touch nevertheless. But there was another spark. Almost soothing. Somehow Peter lifted his head into the palm.

"Look at me," the person said and when Peter squinted at him, the blurry blob came into focus, becoming just clear enough to recognize his face.

"Stiles," Peter tried to say but the word got stuck in his burned windpipe.

"I'm here. I'm here," Stiles said. He kept his hand firmly pressed to Peter's cheek and with the other one, he swatted away the flames on Peter's back. It didn't do much.

"I can make it stop." Stiles forced him to look at him. "I can get you out of here. But you have to become like me. Do you understand?"

Peter tried to make sense of his words.

"Derek can take you," Stiles yelled over the noises of the house burning around them. "Do you want that?"

Peter wasn't sure what he was talking about but he just latched onto the promise to make the fire stop. Anything to make it stop. He jerked his head in what might be a nod.

"Okay, okay." Stiles' hand tightened around his neck. "Just a little while longer. Trust me. It will be over soon."

The hand on his neck vanished. Stiles was gone. Peter still felt it on his neck, cool and soothing, but a second later that feeling got eaten away by the heat rolling over him. The flames flickered back to life, closing in on him again. Peter curled in on himself, making himself as small as possible.

Stiles was already a distant memory. Peter didn't know if it had been seconds or hours ago. Had Stiles even been here?

Peter was burning alive and he couldn't even scream.


A/N This chapter contains graphic descriptions of burning alive. In his head Peter is still stuck in the burning house, reliving what has happened to him. You can skip it if you want, we'll get a less graphic recap from Stiles next chapter.