The howling in his ears remains distant but morphs into this fractal tone in his ears that keeps lowering, turning into this nightmarish continuation of sound, fooling his cognition to think he was free falling through the darkness, trapping him into this shepherds tone until a howl pierces through his very being.

The sound alone resonating a white light so bright and blinding, it drowns him, suffocating him for what feels like ages until he's being sucked into it at the speed of light. Its pulls so strong Stiles felt the pressure of its gravity plastering him completely still, unable to move his limbs before he can comprehend what's happening.

When the pressure finally subsided he couldn't even tell what direction he'd come from, only that now he could feel the weight of his body on his feet, firmly implanted onto the ground. Stiles blinks rapidly, trying to clear his eyesight from the white spots leftover from the experience as he realizes he can see his feet submerged in at least a foot of snow.

Wait…

Stiles gasps as his head whips up, looking around at his surroundings. The snow-covered pine trees and haunting dream-like snowflakes cascade slowly around him, catching on his lashes. It was even more beautifully mystical than in his dreams.

It's almost peaceful as he stands there in the numbing cold snow. His heart slowing down considerably as he watches the snowflakes fall lazily around him. The ghost of his breath visible as he huffs out a laugh, stunned in place by the incredible celestial beauty. It's only when he hears Deaton's voice say, "Remember you're in someone else's memory. Nothing's real…" off in the distance, echoing through his mind, that he snaps out of his trance like state and back into his current reality.

He frantically looks around for the black smoke he knows should lead him to the Hale fire, but as he's looking around, nothing indicates where the hell he should be. His heart sinks when he looks around him, the isolating emptiness threatening to close in on him. He stumbles forward, frostbitten hands patting the snow away from his hair as the steady tremble continues to rack throughout his body.

The full moon illuminating the vast expanse of mountainous terrain and sparkling snow. Cursing under his breath, he takes a steadying deep breath before running into the densely wooded preserve of Beacon Hills.

His instincts screaming at him to run in the opposite direction and keep running for his life. Yet he runs through the forest maze, the endless trees seemingly never ending as he comes to a stop in frustration. He yells out into the deafening silent night,

"Derek!"

Silence.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me…"

He breaks out in a cold sweat, his eyes stinging with exhaustion and perspiration as he yells out again, "Derek where are you? Derek! Asshole!"

Nothing.

He gulps hard, racking his mind to figure out what to do when it finally dawns on him. He sighs deeply, rolling his eyes at how much shit he's going to get for this later on but he chooses to ignore that and just goes for it. He fills his lungs with oxygen and howls as loudly as his vocal cords allow him to.

By the end of it, he's struggling to catch his breath, squinting into the night and hoping to hear any kind of response. After another beat of silence Stiles sighs in defeat, accepting his fate when the gut wrenching howl off in the distance echo's back through the trees.

As soon as the sound reaches his ears he's moving.

Transforming, he goes into beast mode, zooming through the woods with all his might on a mission to hunt Derek down. As he runs towards the echo's direction, he discovers it.

The smoke of the Hale house fire only slightly visible in the night sky, but it's enough for him to track down easily. When he approaches the Hale house, the raging inferno he remembers from his dreams seemed to have simmered down.

A hazy thick cloud of smoke encompasses the house entirely. It's almost impossible to see through even with Stiles's inhuman eyes. He walks cautiously through the black smoke, no longer able to rely on his sense of sight and fully aware he's at a major disadvantage without it.

Deeply submerged into the cloud of black smoke, the faint sound of crying stops him dead in his tracks. Quickly looking around him, he stills with dread at the sight of the caved in porch and wooded charred door. As he stands there, it's high-pitched wailing only grows louder in his ears. He watches the black smoke continued to slither from under the closed front door, the baby's phantoms screams still haunting the Hale grounds.

Time slows as he approaches the charred door, hand already coming out to twist the doorknob before it slips from his grip, slamming open from an unknown force. The sound of his heartbeat skyrocketing in his chest the only thing he's aware of. His feet move on their own, the baby's cries beckoning him forward. The crying only gets worse, becoming more distorted and less human as he gets closer.

But it does nothing to stop him from locating its source.

He walks through the foyer and around a corner of the house before coming face to face with it.

The black-cloaked figure stands unmoving as the baby's cries morph into a deep hysterical fit of laughter. The faint lone howl registers in Stiles's mind as his last recollection of sanity before triggering what happens next.

At that moment, Stiles feels a powerful rush of rage coursing through his veins with such intensity, he has an out-of-body experience.

He was no longer there.

All that was left of him was the shell of a monster, willing to kill anything within its reach.

He watches his hand rip through the demon's dark matter but it does not satisfy what his Vampire nature craves. He needs to tear through flesh and bone. The demon moves fast, revealing only slight glimpses of itself through the trees. But as he follows, the chase is short lived as he reaches a clearing. The laughter in his mind now taunts him. The chanting of his name completely surrounding him.

"Show yourself!" He snarls, his fisted hands drip with his blood. The voices in his mind become hushed whispers, causing him to still as the hair on his neck stands on end. The dark presence is near.

"Mieczyslaw…" Stiles whips around at the sound of his birth name. Hissing and crouched down in defense, the black figure stands just five feet away from him. He lunges towards it but the black-cloaked figure vanishes in thin air, turning around Stiles hisses as the demon reappears.

"My, my, my. Look what has drifted into my web. Do you remember me?" The demon says, voice disturbingly deep and inhuman. Stiles hisses, rage still consuming his being as he lunges towards the demon again but it's already gone, standing just within arms reach.

"Well, I guess not. After all, it's been a very, very , long time since someone of your… stature has entered my domain. But times are dyer I see..." Stiles gulps, closing his eyes tightly, knowing to play the demon's games he needed to be in control. Regaining control of his composure proves difficult though, the demon's laughter threatening his efforts but when he opens his eyes, his Vampiric form thankfully obeys.

"I know your appearance can't be one of chance, Mieczyslaw Stilinski. After all, I am made up of the same darkness that holds you in its grasp." Stiles eyes widen. The sudden chill that runs through his body confirming he's right about who this demonic being must be.

"Do not be afraid. I am not here to hurt you. I am not here to scare you. I am here to talk to you. Since we are talking which is not something I've had the pleasure of doing in quite a while. I'll introduce myself again. My name or the name that mortals like you would be best fit to address me as is Death. That is a name that was bestowed on me by mortals, as it would be fitting for you to see me as such."

"What do you want from me?" He says, his voice straining to keep his rage at bay.

"Vampire, you have piqued my interest. You are not scared of my appearance, so you must be after the werewolf that dwells in my forest." Stiles keeps his poker face but the sweat rolling down his forehead and pounding heart both agree he's in deep shit. He will stand his ground but he knows it's too late. He's at its mercy.

He opens his mouth to speak but gasps as Death teleports right in front of him. "Do not worry... I do not intend to bring you any harm. That being said I do have a personal stake in the matter. You see, you are playing a game with forces that are not meant to be played with..."

A flash of the night Derek was taken replays in his mind. The demon laughed as it says, " Is that a challenge? Don't you know not to play with the Devil, he always cheats …"

His hands curl into fists as Derek's screams echo through his mind. If death is the price he will have to pay for challenging the forces that be, he will gladly accept his fate. He'd suffer and be tortured for an eternity if it means Derek will be saved. He refuses to live with the guilt knowing he had put Scott, his brother's life at stake by causing Derek's death. The alpha is apart of Scott's pack and although his loyalties lie within his clan, there was nothing more precious to him than restoring the safety of Scott and his pack back together. His father wouldn't have it any other way.

He stares back determinedly into the black abyss of Death's face. He restrains himself knowing that he must play by its rules. He flinches as Death's head tilts as if to observe him. It laughs deeply as it says,

"Oh you, sweet, sweet, naïve, little boy. You have nothing to fear from me, Vampire. My intentions might be self-centered but I'm no threat. I have heard of your plans. You plan to bathe this forest in eternal light. Do you not think that is equally as bad as shrouding in darkness? There's a certain balance that must be upheld and if it swings to one side or the other. Both are catastrophic. I know even you see the sense of a balance. The days not your domain. But that doesn't mean it doesn't have a right for existence." Stiles swallows, looking away in contemplation.

As much as Stiles would like to disagree he couldn't. It would go against his very nature. No matter how much he hates to admit it, Beacon Hills was favorable towards night dwellers, which he had planned on exploiting to its full potential in the future. The Nemetons protected enchantments and spells were destroyed and any sense of safety in the city had been lost. At the time of his return to Beacon Hills, he didn't care how much bloodshed or deaths it took to restore order.

He made a vow in his father's memory, a promise to the full moon that he would succeed even if he died trying. It has remained his dying wish ever since, and nothing was going to stop him from fulfilling that promise.

Not Derek, not the Nemeton, and definitely not now but surely Death must know this... so it must be trying to stop something or someone from doing it.

But who…

Death tilts its head again as it says, " I can sense your curiosity. Is that what drives you? Is that what strengthens you in this quest? The insatiable thirst for knowledge, for understanding? Out of any motivation, this is very admirable. Even someone like me can appreciate certain aspirations."

Shit, his thoughts were at its disposal. He couldn't stay here much longer. He smirks,

"Look, you have the pendant. It would be impossible for Derek, let alone anyone else, to try and resurrect the Nemeton without it now. So this 'eternal light' unbalancing crap you're talking about can't even happen. I'm not here to play your games. I'm here for Derek. Anything you do with that stupid thing is none of my business." A deep laugh comes from Deaths opaque hooded head as it says,

"I was like you once, egocentric to a fault, an idealist, narcissistic even. That cost me dearly…" Stiles huffs out a laugh.

"Thanks, I'll take that as a compliment." He couldn't believe how patronizing Death was being right now.

What an asshole.

Stiles didn't have time for this. He needed to get Derek.

In that moment Derek's howl resonates throughout the forest, shaking the ground and in Stiles's bones to the very core. He gasps, looking over towards its direction when in an instant, he feels a hand cut through his flesh, through bone, and grips at his heart. Blood spills from over his lips as he tilts his head slightly up to look back into the hooded black abyss.

"You see, having lived as much as I have. As long as I have. You start to realize the bigger picture. Existence doesn't just revolve around sating your immediate desires, except when sating such desires is not detrimental to a larger encompassing goal." He wheezes, as Death's words ring through his ears. Grimacing, he feels his lungs fill up with blood. Coughing violently, he shakes struggling to keep his legs from giving out under him. Death laughs again as it says,

"You being here is quite a relief for me. As I told you earlier the only thing I truly want is for balance to be brought to this place. Can you imagine the pain it will cause to establish a permanent light? Flourishing light means a weltering of night. Everything will be caught in eternal suffering. Isn't it obvious?"

The blood gurgles from out of his mouth in response as he feels the pressure on his heart increase.

"I cannot blame you and I should not channel my annoyance through you. For you are just another cursed soul at the right place at perhaps the wrong time. So if you would help me I do have something in return to aid you in your quest and the only thing I would ask of you is a taste of your energy."

He hangs his head, coughing up another mouthful of blood, watching as it drips down from his mouth and onto the white snow covered ground. Stiles sways, Death's hypnotic voice tempting him to surrender to the darkness from behind his eyelids.

"For to remain a balance of life your kind must sustain me. I can sense it inside of you. It's bubbling on the surface. Some sort of energy… bubbling beneath your skin. It's dying to erupt. Like a crackling electricity, pulsing, throbbing…Dying to be taken a hold of. Now before I can let you go I have one more part of the bargain that you're going to have to uphold."

Stiles hears a howl off into the distance waking him up from his trance as he stares back into Deaths challenging gaze. It was reaching into the most deepest, darkest parts of his brain, tempting him to give in. And oh did Stiles want to give in, to finally feel comforted by the darkness but he knew what he needed to do. He swore to save Derek's life.

"I will not take your life." He winces as Death continues to talk in his ear, "Though I will feed on your essence. I will not take as much to harm you or weaken you. It won't hurt. I promise. In fact, it makes you feel pleasure like you've never imagined. Your nervous system will feel like it's lit on fire. But not destructive fire, like a nourishing fire, making you feel powerful so we can establish a bond."

Shaking violently, he fists his hands as he transforms and lunges forward. Death moving from his reach easily, laughing as Stiles lets his heart get ripped out of his chest.

"But perhaps that was just wishful thinking…" Death glides over to him. He falls to his knees, bending over, his hand's fists in the snow as he throws up more blood. Another howl rings through his ears, he cries out in pain, trying to stand.

"So what do you say? Do you accept my offer? I have something here, something to help you establish balance and order." Stiles feels his head tilt up against his will, his blinded vision barely able to make out Death's black silhouette.

The snarl, Derek lets out has his ears ringing from its force. He groans as nauseousness hits him again. But before he's able to recover, he gets thrown back, something slamming into his chest so hard it knocks the wind out of him. White noise surrounds him, as he convulses on the snow-covered ground. An electrifying current runs through his body. Igniting through every vein, muscle, and deep inside his bones. Sparks fly across his vision before getting swallowed by darkness.

When he wakes up again, he's in a puddle of his own blood. The sound of his heartbeat strangely loud in his ears, creating sharp pains in his chest whenever he tries to breathe in. He continues to breathe with shallow breaths before forcing himself to sit up, looking around. But what he see's has his heart dropping down to his stomach. In front of him was what looked like a homicide scene.

There was blood everywhere. But nothing was more chilling than the drag marks of blood that led away from the clearing. Stiles quickly stood up and followed the trail. Running through the woods, already assuming the worse. When he arrives at the end of the blood trail nothing can prepare him for what he sees next. A massive Angel Oak tree stands alone in the middle of the clearing. Stiles does a double take when he notices Death shadow camouflaged into its bark. He transforms then, getting there in seconds and just in time to see what it left for him.

His rage completely dissipates as he stands there stunned in place. The burned bodies scattered remains circle all around the Angel Oak's bark. When he walks closer to get a better look he gasps, stumbling away and falling just inches away from Derek's sister, Laura, scorched body.

"Do you see the way the light reflects off of his eyes? It's almost blinding..." Stiles's head snaps up at Death's words. It stands there hovering over Derek's half naked kneeled body. The triskelion tattoo rapidly spinning around the pierced branch through his back. Black ink drips down his spine and onto the white snow. He stumbles up, walking numbly over Laura's body and to Derek's side. Derek's iris's are completely white, glowing in the dark as if he was shining from within.

"Why are you showing me this?" His voice comes out shaking. His eyes never leaving Derek's.

"Because like you, he continues to undermine my authority. That is why I have gifted you my spark. It will make you stronger. Parting with it will not be easy for me as it is one of my prized possessions. But I know to save both realms and for balance to be restored I need to trust you. The werewolf offered you blood did he not? I suppose it keeps you sustained but we both have established that this is not a favorable outcome..." His eyes widen, looking down at his blood soaked chest. His shaking hands grasping at his shirt where his new powers lie.

"No! I didn't agree to this! Take it out! Take it out or I will!" His claws dig into his chest ready to rip out his own heart himself when he feels a protective barrier shielding him from doing so.

"But I'm afraid death offers more peace than you deserve Stiles. It's better to let you live so each morning, you will wake knowing your wretched existence continues only by my will." Death laughs again as he drops to his knees in defeat. Stiles can feel it now. His heart's beating erratic and out of sync, the power thriving under his skin and through his veins, mocking his very own existence.

"I'd rather die! Take it out now or else I will make it my mission for the light to succeed!" He spits. If he could simultaneously combust in fury he would in this very moment. There was nothing more infuriating to him than having his own free will taken from him, not again. He can't let this happen! The wind whips his face as Death rises, forcing Stiles to look up.

"Listen very closely Vampire because I shall only say this once. For to remain a balance of light and dark your spark must sustain in darkness. Your spark has remained dormant for far too long. It flows through you now just as it does me. That is my gift to you. But... If you lose at your quest I can promise you, you will see me. You will see every bit of me. Once you see my face there is no going back. The second time you see me. The second time you hear from me. I promise you that it will be your last. I must go now. Farewell brethren of the night."

"No please!" Stiles yells before Death rises and vanishes into the darkness. "Kill me!" He cries out. The storm he'd been keeping down inside unleashes itself. Assaulting his body with thunderous sobs and parental downpour from his eyes. There was nothing he could do. He had lost. He drags himself over to Derek's corpse.

"Der…Derek!" Stiles wants to shake him awake but he's afraid he might crumble in his hands. He helplessly looks around at all the Hale bodies singed beyond recognition. Their bodies were placed in careful positions of rest like they'd happen to fall asleep in the shade of the huge Angel Oak tree one winter's night and never woke up.

The thought of Derek having to drag his family's bodies here is almost too painful for him to bear. Imagining him waking up to the flames and having to run through them to get to his family's bodies, pulling them out one at a time, hearing their screams…or even worse. Derek showing up to the aftermath, seeing the simmered down smoke of the fire that no one bothered to stop before it was too late. Stiles couldn't bear the thought of it.

No Stiles couldn't accept that the terrifying, strange, obnoxiously attractive Derek Hale could be this martyr who saved his family from such an atrocity. But deep down inside, he knows he sensed the sadness within Derek from the beginning. Though what caused it was a mystery to him, it drew him in, the familiarity...

Finally knowing what that sadness in Derek is, he couldn't deny it anymore. The guilty conscience that haunts their souls were the same. That's why his heart breaks when he spots it lying just a few feet away from him.

The swalled baby body lies face down, silent in the snow before Derek's knees. Stiles shakingly crawls over to it, carefully turning it over. He whimpers at the sight of its frozen appearance.

"Oh, Derek… you idiot." The empathy he feels for Derek makes him physically ache. He wants to wrap him in his arms, sheltering him from any harm. Longing to take away Derek's pain from the entire experience. It's forbidden for him to feel this way, he knows. But he feels it all the same.

He looks over to Derek's frozen form. The branch that's speared through his chest, giving the impression that he has died along with his family but the white light still embeds from his eyes. He sniffs, wiping harshly at his tears, willing them to go away before he shuffles over on his knees to expect it. He looks over Derek's face strangely still life like. He follows Derek's line of sight when it finally clicks.

He looks up at the Angel Oak tree and there it was. The Triskelion symbol carved deep into its bark. Lo and behold the Nemeton, standing in all its glory. His vision fills with new clarity.

This was it.

He now possessed the pendants missing memory.

The key to unlocking the truth from Derek's mind.

He stumbles up, looking around him at the scene; everything set up intentionally to show him his purpose. There was just one more piece to the puzzle that only he could fulfill. In order to fit all the pieces of the dream into place, he walks over to the Nemetons' massive bark, trembling hand coming up to hover over the Triskelion symbol.

He gulps and looks back at Derek. His eyes remained open, casting its white light unto him and directed towards the Triskelion. It's a sign.

The last message Derek could convey to Stiles even in death.

"Promise me we'll meet again..." He whispers, searching Derek's eyes. The white light remains, unmoving and as promising as Derek's unspoken words.

Stiles nods, trusting Derek's silent promise before slamming his hand down over the Triskelion symbol. A thunderous noise radiates through him, exploding light from under his eyelids and covering his body.

The ground falls from under him before gravity slams into him at full force. He sits up suddenly, feeling as if someone just bashed his head in with a sledgehammer. He looks around him exactly where he was before he passed out in the preserve.

"Fuck." He sighs deeply running his hands through his matted hair.

Any normal person would feel relief from surviving such a near death experience but not Stiles.

He didn't have the luxury of relief.

He was forced to live on, his mind lingering on even when his heart and soul were gone.

This was fucking hell.