A/N: I know, I know, it's been awhile (again). But I think I'm actually getting my inspiration back! I'm forcing myself to write something almost every day, and I think it's been paying off. So yay! Getting back into this story with something... different. Warnings for blood and some mildly disturbing imagery. Please review if you like it!

"Go back to sleep."

He was running. What was he running from? He couldn't remember.

But he knew that he needed to run.

Suddenly, he could hear… something. Footsteps, maybe, but louder than footsteps, coming towards him, faster than a normal person could run.

And then, a scream.

He stopped running instantly, turning around, because he knew that scream. He didn't know how, but he knew it. He recognized it.

In front of him, a body. Someone lying on the ground, face down. He stumbled backwards, trying to escape. Was the person alive? Were they breathing? Or…

He blinked, and suddenly he was standing over the body, and there was a knife in his hand. A bloody knife.

And the body… the body wasn't face down anymore. It was staring at him, its eyes wide with terror, blood soaking its shirt.

He swallowed, because he knew that face, and he knew what he had done. "Scott?" he said, quietly, unable to tear his eyes away from the body of his best friend. His best friend. His best friend was dead, and it was all his fault. "Scott, I'm sorry," he said, feeling his eyes start to sting with unshed tears.

Suddenly, the body, Scott's body, sat up. "You did this to me," he said, and his eyes were wide, and there was so much blood. "You killed me."

"No," he said, stumbling back again. "No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I swear!"

He blinked again, and Scott was standing, pointing at him. "I always knew it would come to this," Scott said, his expression completely empty. "I always knew you would snap and kill us all."

"All?" he asked, taking another step back. A blink, and there was Allison, standing next to Scott, her chest soaked in blood. Another blink, and there was Lydia, a bright red line across her throat. Blink. Derek. Blink. Isaac. Blink. Kira. All staring at him with dead, empty eyes.

"You killed us," Scott said again, still pointing.

"No," he said, trying to back up, trying to get away from them. "No, I didn't, I wouldn't do something like this, I promise, I wouldn't." He stumbled, and then blinked, and then he was on the ground, Scott towering over him.

"But you did," Scott said, and now he was holding the knife. "We died, and now it's your turn."

"No," he pleaded, covering his face. "No!"

TWTWTW

Stiles gasped, sitting up straight, reeling from the nightmare. He had bad dreams almost every night, but that one had been bad, even for him.

"Stiles? You okay?"

Flinching at the voice, it took Stiles a moment to realize what was happening. Scott. Scott was sleeping over. Scott was sleeping on the floor next to his bed. "Uh, yeah," Stiles responded a moment later. "Yeah, Scott, I'm fine. Go back to sleep, okay?"

"You sure?" Scott asked, sounding concerned. "Your breathing got kind of weird there for a minute."

"Yeah," Stiles said again, "Yeah, just a nightmare, but I'm fine."

Scott was giving him his puppy-dog eyes, the one that no one could say no to, especially not Stiles. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Stiles swallowed, seeing again the dead faces of all of his friends. "Um, not really," he said, turning away. "Just… just go back to sleep. Maybe I'll tell you in the morning?"

"Okay," Scott agreed, "But wake me up if you need anything."

Stiles nodded, and then watched as Scott lay down, focusing on his chest moving up and down, up and down. He probably wouldn't get anymore sleep that night, but at least he knew that Scott would.

At least he knew that his best friend was still alive.