Thanks for sticking by me! Love you guys! Feedback is always appreciated! This was one of my favourite canon scenes/episodes on the show, so you'll see a lot of similarities, hope you don't mind! Just something I had to explore.

I do not own Teen Wolf.


Stiles gasped awake, coated in a cold sweat and shivering as he searched for his covers to pull over himself. His brow furrowed as he realized he wasn't in his bed, but a hard surface, his back cramping from the pain.

How long had he been here?

It was pitch dark, but not quite the abyss-like darkness he had been succumbed to in his dreams before. And there was a stench that was bad enough to make him cover his mouth with the inside of his elbow.

Stiles tried to pull himself up with his free arm, looking around wildly as he got his legs beneath him.

But as he tried to drag his legs back, metal scraping against cement sounded in the quiet and he was jolted back down by something wrapped tight around his leg.

The sudden pain ran up his leg and he cried out, covering his mouth harder to muffle the sound, not sure what he had managed to get caught on but knowing it hurt like a bitch. It felt like some sort of vice, tight and constricting, and he didn't want to tug again and risk the outlandish pain.

Where the hell was he? And how did he get there?

He must have been sleepwalking. He felt around him for any kind of clue of where he was. His hand closed around his cell phone and he kept his eyes peeled for any sign of life before turning it on.

Battery 9%

Great. Effing great.

Stiles held down 1 on his speed dial, trying to keep his anxiety at bay. It wasn't exactly easy when he had no idea where he was, how he got there, and if he was trapped.

He held the phone to his ear, trying to reach down blindly in the dark to feel what the hell was on his leg.

Movement sounded from across the room, someone slinking in the shadows beyond what Stiles could see, and the teenage boy cowered against the floor, trying to make himself as small as possible.

"Stiles, you there?" He finally clued in that Scott had answered the phone.

"Scott?" he whispered, unable to help a few tears from slipping out. His leg was really hurting, the smell was unbearable, and he knew now that not knowing where he was might be the least of his concerns. He may have walked right into the monster's lair of what had been haunting his nightmares. Maybe this was what his nightmares had been preparing him for and he was drawn to that spot in his sleep.

Scott was talking again, sounding concerned. "Hey, yeah, I'm here. Are you okay? Can you hear me?"

Stiles took a deep breath, knowing his phone wouldn't last forever. He needed to be as clear and concise and quick as he could.

"Scott, I don't know where I am. I don't know how I got here. I think I was sleepwalking."

"Okay, um, can you see anything? Can you tell me what you see?"

The most obvious question to ask, but Stiles didn't have a satisfactory answer. He knew his chances weren't good. Even with advanced senses both as a werewolf and an alpha, and knowing Stiles' scent so well, it would be hard for Scott to find him. Especially with that smell overpowering everything else. It was strong enough it was even making it hard for Stiles to concentrate.

"I don't know, it's dark, it's hard to see. There's something wrong with my—"

He stopped breathing. The suspected person in the room sounded so close to him, just a couple feet from where he was, as if they walked right in front of him.

He ended the call and hid his phone, not wanting the light to cast anything on him to help whoever it was find him. They had to know he was here by now. Why weren't they attacking him? Or doing whatever the hell they planned to do?

Stiles felt his phone light up in his hand and slipped his fingers between his chest and phone to swipe the ignore button.

He focused all of his energy on listening, trying to pick up any sound of the person's whereabouts.

His phone shone again, and Stiles hit ignore again. He wasn't trying to freak out Scott, but he needed to be sure the coast was clear.

Once there was no sign of any movement, Stiles sat up to feel around his leg, trying to wrench whatever it was off of him. It was metal, strong, and clamped tightly around his leg. He could feel liquid covering his fingers and suppressed a gag at the idea that it was likely his own blood. He jiggled the contraption, tried to search for an end piece that would help him remove it, but nothing worked. He wasn't strong enough and he didn't know what he was dealing with.

Giving up, Stiles redialed Scott.

"Stiles?!"

He sounded so utterly relieved, Stiles felt awful for ignoring his calls, even if he was trying to do it for survival reasons.

"Scott, I don't think I can get out of here. I can't move."

"Where are you?"

"I don't know. It's too dark, I can't see much." he rushed his words, trying to keep his panic down but failing pretty miserably. He knew freaking out wasn't going to help Scott or himself any. He needed to stay calm and think clearly. "But something's wrong with my leg. It's stuck on something. It's… I think it's bleeding."

"How bad? Stiles, how bad is it?"

Stiles reached down to feel around his leg, feel if there was a huge pool of blood around his calf or if it was just splayed all over his pants. The pain reverberated through his body again and he gritted his teeth.

"Stiles? Are you there? Can you hear me?"

He coughed, covering his face again. "There's some kind of smell down here. Something smells terrible. It's brutal. My eyes are watering."

"Listen, I'm going to call your dad."

His panic spiked immediately. "Wait. No, no, no, don't." If his dad found out… if his dad knew that his sleepwalking had extended this far, that it involved him getting hurt in the middle of the night when he was supposed to be safe in bed, even with all the security measures he took, he'd never forgive himself. He'd never be able to concentrate at work or sleep without watching the monitor in his room like a hawk. No, his dad couldn't find out. He stressed his father out enough with everything else.

"But your dad…"

Stiles closed his eyes, willing Scott to listen. "Just please, don't call him. Promise me you won't. He already worries about me too much about me, Scott, please."

"What if I can't find you? Stiles, I can't make a promise like that."

Stiles wasn't used to hearing Scott sound so unsure and scared.

"No, no, no, just please don't call him. Come find me. You can do it. He doesn't have to know, Scott. You can find me." he promised, not meaning to sound so desperate but unable to help himself.

He knew Scott could. He trusted Scott with his life, he always had. If anyone could find him, it was Scott. He knew his scent better than anyone, was the best alpha the town had ever seen. He could do it. Stiles had to believe that Scott could do it.

"I don't know if I can do this."

"Stiles." a whispered taunting voice came from across the room, a sound like nails against cement scraping along the wall.

Stiles' blood went cold, which was saying something considering the fact that he was losing feeling in his extremities. He knew that voice.

"Whoa, I've got to call you back. I have to turn the phone off." he told Scott quickly.

"What, no, hey wait, no."

"I'm going to call you right back." he told him as confidently as he could as he shut the phone off completely.

The screen's light died and Stiles stuffed the phone underneath him, eyes peeled for any sign of movement in the darkness.

There was an ominous movement near the far wall, metal or claws against cement as the figure slinked along the length of the room.

Stiles curled himself into as small a figure as possible, hoping it would stay where it was and leave him alone until his best friend found him.


Lydia lay on her bed in her room with her headphones in, mind buzzing with everything that had gone on in the last couple days.

After the Oni battle at Scott's house, she had gone home, only to get a text later from Stiles saying he was sorry he took so long to get back to her, explaining that Melissa had sedated him since he was so sleep-deprived. She had texted him back saying it was fine, that she had just been worried about him, and asked if he was okay. He hadn't replied, but she tried her best not to worry.

She had met up with Allison at school the next day to find out in more depth what her dad had found out from Katashi. There wasn't much more than what she had relayed the night before.

Katashi did manage to explain one helpful thing. "The Oni seek out Nogitsune, but must be summoned as they are neutral warriors who are focused on a singular goal and will destroy anything that gets in the way of them accomplishing that goal."

It made sense that they had tried to kill Scott's dad despite him being purely human. He had gotten in the way of the Oni getting the supernatural people of the pack. They had no concept of morals. They were programmed to accomplish their goal by any means necessary.

Which was why she shouldn't have been surprised to hear that Derek had been swarmed on his way home from Katashi's. Isaac found him outside the loft, pulling him inside and forcing him to turn to break him out of it.

Were the Oni really going to search every supernatural being in Beacon Hills? Lydia had to imagine there were quite a few after all the stories she had heard, and especially after everything with the Nemeton had happened.

It was keeping her up at night, worrying about all the supernatural madness around town. That and Stiles. She wondered how the rest of the pack had managed to handle all of this for literal years. It was overwhelming.

She went to skip the song on her iPod, bored of Leona Lewis right now, until between the impressive belted riffs there was a more prominent sound that seemed to dull out the rest of the music.

Lydia sat up. It sounded almost like static at first, but then there was more. It was more of a snuffling sound, like muffled crying.

And then one phrase rang amongst the white noise.

"Come find me." the whispered voice cried.

Despite her not hearing it in such distress before, she'd recognize that voice anywhere. Stiles.

Lydia wasn't stupid enough to think that her hearing him saying that was projection from worrying about him. It was supernatural, her 'power' of whatever it was coming into play.

If she was hearing him cry for help, he must be in trouble somewhere. She had to find him.

Lydia threw herself out of bed, grabbing her phone and her keys.

"Allison? Hey, it's me. Sorry to wake you. Meet me at Stiles'—I think he's in trouble."


Stiles breathed in and out the best he could, no sound of movement for the past sixty seconds but he still was scared the figure would just jump out at him or appear next to him without warning. If it was whatever was in his nightmares, he figured it had enough supernatural mojo to do something like that without even trying.

He had no idea what this thing was capable of, especially if it had managed to get him here in his sleep. He wondered if he would've gotten out if his dad had been home. He was working night shift tonight at least, but if he didn't get out of here soon, his shift would end and he'd go home to find his son's bed empty. He couldn't have that. He needed Scott to find him before it came to that.

Reluctantly, he turned his phone back on and dialed Scott again.

"Stiles!"

Scott sounded so grateful to read his name on his Caller ID, it choked him up. As much as worrying his dad sucked, worrying Scott was just as bad. Thinking back to all the trouble Stiles managed to get them into growing up, he was surprised Scott too didn't have a heart condition.

Stiles swallowed and kept his voice low. "Did you call him? Did you call my dad?"

"No. Just Isaac. We're coming to find you. Can you figure out where you are? Try to find something and tell us where to look."

Stiles looked around, keeping in mind all that he'd managed to see since he woke up. "It's a basement. I don't know, some kind of basement."

"In a house?"

"No, it looks bigger, like industrial. I think there's a furnace, but it's cold. It's freezing down here." As if on cue, his body began shivering all over. His phone beeped, signalling it would die any minute. "I-I gotta turn… I gotta turn the phone off, Scott, it's going to die."

All he'd need is for his only link to them to die and have them get close but not be able to find him because he couldn't give new information as a clue or something.

"Wait, wait, wait. What else is there? What do you see?"

It hurt to say no to his best friend's desperation, but he didn't have anything else helpful left. "The phone's dying, I can't talk. I have to go. Please, just..."

He wished he didn't have to be so selfish and demanding. He wished he could help make it easier on his best friend. Truth was, he didn't know much more than Scott, and between the two of them, Scott had a better idea of figuring out where he was than Stiles did even though he was the one physically there. The benefits of werewolf senses.

Scott finally seemed to realize something. His voice changed. "Stiles. Why are you whispering?"

Stiles felt a single tear slip down his cheek. "Because I think there's someone in here with me."


Lydia jumped when Scott and Isaac burst through Stiles' bedroom door.

Scott was surprised to see her and Allison there if his face was anything to go by.

"How did you know? Did he call you too?"

Lydia grimaced. "Not exactly. I heard him… bits and pieces of your conversation no doubt."

"Don't ask. It gets more confusing when you ask." Allison piped up, knowing from experience from when she tried to understand the logistics earlier of how Lydia had known.

"Not as confusing as this." Lydia commented, licking her lips as she stepped out of the way so they could see Stiles' bed.

In the center of the mattress was a big pair of silver scissors stabbed into the material, but the weirdest part was all of the red strings tied around it that linked to various points on Stiles' investigation boards lining the walls around his bed.

"He uses red for unsolved cases."

Allison was biting her lip as she stepped to different parts of the room for a new angle, to see if the strings made some sort of particular shape or message. "Maybe he thinks he's a part of an unsolved case."

"Or is an unsolved case." Isaac said.

Lydia looked at the pair of them and seemed to clue in that they were just as lost as they were. "Hold on, is he still out there? You don't know where he is?"

"He says he's in an industrial basement somewhere." Scott explained.

"We came here to get a better scent." Isaac added.

Lydia tried not to panic. She had no idea how long he had been gone, but if he was begging for help the way she heard, he was in serious trouble. "What else did he say?"

Scott's face was hard to read, but she could tell he was doing his best to stay strong despite his visceral worry. "Something is wrong with his leg. It's bleeding."

"And he's freezing." Isaac said from his spot.

Allison rubbed her upper arms absent-mindedly. "Tonight's the coldest night of the year. It's going to drop into the twenties."

He couldn't be in more than a t-shirt and sweatpants.

"What did his dad say?" Lydia asked, knowing based on the empty driveway that they would've had to call him at work. She wondered if a deputy had been by the house yet.

"We kind of didn't… tell him yet." Scott said awkwardly, looking ashamed and sad.

The strawberry-blonde couldn't help herself from getting her back up at that confession. Her eyes went wide. "Stiles is freezing and bleeding and you didn't call his dad?"

"He made me promise not to." Scott said in a small voice, and her heart squeezed for his loyalty to his best friend. That sounded exactly like what Stiles would demand, out of everything. Even when he was in danger, it was his dad he was concerned about. "We can find him by scent. If he was sleepwalking, he couldn't have gotten far, right?"

Allison squeezed his hand in hers. "You guys didn't notice his jeep was gone, did you?"

Lydia had forgotten that quick about that. She could handle Stiles being pissed at her if it meant that he was alive to do so. "You promised he wouldn't call his dad. I didn't."

"Lydia, hold on, I can get more help. I can call Kira, Derek—"

"Everyone except the cops, great idea!"

She didn't mean to be snappy with him, but Scott had to understand that this wasn't necessarily a supernatural ordeal. Stiles had been sleepwalking. He went as far as driving his jeep somewhere god knows how far away. The police, not werewolves, might be able to use their technology and authority to find him much faster than a pair of teenage werewolves running around the city.

"Look… these…. feelings I get? They're never associated with anything good, okay? They only seem to come when relating to death. And since Stiles is in impending danger…"

She didn't need to finish her sentence. Scott closed his eyes briefly before nodding.

"You don't have to call his dad. It's five minutes to the station."

Scott looked to Isaac and they headed to leave.

Lydia reached out an arm to stop Allison before she could follow.

"We'll catch up."

"What, why?" Allison asked, brow furrowed.

"There is something here."

Isaac scoffed. "Yeah, evidence of total insanity."

Lydia caught the pain that crossed Scott's face. It was more than just being offended by the jab. There was some hidden secret he was harbouring, maybe a fear that Isaac really was right. After all, Stiles had been none too quiet about how much the Nemeton stuff felt like he was losing his mind.

Lydia, too, wouldn't admit it out loud, but she was scared that Isaac was more right than he planned.

"We can find out what's wrong with him after we find a way to keep him from freezing to death." Scott said stiffly, his irritation colouring his tone slightly.

"Go. We'll be right behind you." Allison told him with an encouraging nod, turning back to the crime scene and following Lydia's lead.


Stiles hung up the phone with Scott, already missing the comfort of having his best friend's voice on the other end. He had to trust that Scott would come soon though, that he'd find him. Until then, he had to deal with his own situation alone. And that included figuring out how to get the hell out of there.

He tried to move his leg again, then hunched in pain. He could feel something digging into his skin like forks.

Struggling to get into proper position on his side, he turned the flashlight on his phone and pointed it towards his leg.

The light shined on his left, revealing the bear trap snapped around his calf, blood coating his pajama pants and the floor.

He cried out in anguish as the pain reverberated through him, his shout turning into sobs.

A scraping noise sounded across the room that effectively shut him up.

"Who's there?" No answer. "I know you're there. I can hear you."

Somebody was in there, a sound like scratching and heavy breathing following their movement, and Stiles sniffled as he used the flashlight to find the source.

It settled on someone in a crouched position, their back to him, all Stiles could see was a leather jacket and fully bandaged hands and head.

"Who are you?" Stiles demanded, voice shaking more than he'd like.

The chalk the person had been using dropped to the floor. Stiles looked down at it, wiping his face, but when he looked back up, the figure was gone.

He could see what was drawn on the wall now—what looked like a backwards five.

The Japanese symbol for 'self'. As he stared, it burned up until it disappeared completely.

He remembered the words from the most recent pack meeting. "They're looking for someone who is no longer themselves. Someone possessed by a dark spirit."

Stiles' tears fell faster.


Allison and Lydia, still working away in Stiles' room, tried to channel the boy in question's knack for finding clues as they scanned the scene before them.

"They found Stiles' jeep at the hospital." Allison said aloud, reading the text from her phone. "Derek and Scott checked up on the roof—said the chemo-signals indicated anxiety, some sort of self-struggle."

Lydia looked alarmed. A struggle with oneself on a roof emotionally could lead to something much more tragic.

"No, Lydia. They haven't found him yet, and they would have if he... but he didn't… That's not Stiles."

Lydia sighed. "Do we even know anymore? He's been so distracted, on edge… like a different person… all the signs of someone who is contemplating—"

A rush of whispers sounded from somewhere towards the bed and Lydia froze.

Allison, too, halted in place like a statue at her friend's sudden change.

"What did you just do? Did you just touch one of the strings?"

Allison bit her lip guiltily. "Maybe?"

Lydia pulled the red one closest to her. "What did that sound like you?" the strawberry-blonde demanded.

The brunette shrugged. "Like a string being pulled…"

"You didn't hear people whispering?"

Allison shook her head defiantly. "Definitely did not hear people whispering."

Lydia pulled it again, leaning closer to try to pick up what they were saying. "You didn't hear that?"

"I'm not sure anyone hears what you hear." Allison told her honestly, moving back to looking at what each of the strings were fastened to on the board.

"Whispering. Something about a house." Lydia deciphered.

Allison looked hopeful. "What house?"

Lydia lifted her head and followed the string to the image on the board the string was connected to. "That one."

Allison came over. "Eichen House? The mental health centre where Barrow was committed?"

"It's where he is. That's where Stiles is." Lydia breathed out in a rush.


Stiles struggled with his phone, needing the light. There was barely any coming in from the vent above, nothing more than moonlight and it was only enough for him to see a few feet in front of him.

His phone was dead. "No, come on."

He sat up, struggling with the trap, trying to get the thing off his leg. He grit his teeth in pain. He remembered the handle he twisted when he freed Lydia from hers, but this one didn't seem to have one, and the end of the chain was clamped to a pipe on the wall. He screamed out in frustration as he tried desperately to pull it apart.

He felt movement next to him, a person slinking by.

"Who's there? WHO ARE YOU?!"

The person started talking, a sinister sound like an old prophecy being told, but it was in another language. He recognized the dialect—Japanese.

"What?"

Instead of restating in English, more Japanese spilled out of their mouth. He knew too little to even piece together some of it.

"I don't… I don't understand."

And then the man spoke in an all too familiar voice.

"Who are you, Stiles? Who are we? It's getting colder, Stiles. Did you notice that we've stopped shivering? Do you know why that's a bad sign?"

Stiles realized it as soon as he said it, almost as if he had commanded the motion to cease, or as if the voice was his subconscious.

"It's the body trying to conserve energy. It was my fifth grade science report. Hypothermia." he said, trying to keep his emotions at bay.

"Our speech is starting to thicken." he murmured as he moved through the room, sounding sickly entertained by the idea. "Then comes fatigue. Confusion. We're going to die if we don't get out of here."

Stiles held his head as high as he could, trying to appear as strong as he could. "Stop saying that! Stop saying we."

"We're trying to keep you from freezing to death. You better get up, Stiles." the voice told him.

"How? There's a freaking steel-jaw trap on my leg!" he screamed furiously, sick of this. He knew that voice. He knew it was the one that had been haunting his nightmares. He didn't know how he had got him here or how he had gotten into his dreams, but he knew he was no ally. No matter what mind tricks he was trying to play.

"Is there? Notice something different? It was on your right leg before, wasn't it?"

"No…" Stiles looked down to see his right covered in blood and the metal clamp.

"Are you sure?" he taunted.

Stiles shook his head and they were switched back. It was his left again.

His breathing became heavier. "What is this? What are you doing?"

They had encountered a few different supernatural creatures over their time since Scott had been bitten, but nothing they had come across had this type of… magic or whatever the hell it was.

"We're trying to save you, Stiles. We're trying to save your life."


The group arrived at Eichen House, deputy team in tow.

"I don't want to say are you sure about this, but…" the Sheriff started slowly, clear hesitance present in his tone.

"He's here. I swear to god he's here." Lydia affirmed.

With that, they headed inside in a rush, the Sheriff making a beeline for the front desk. "I need access to all basement facilities here."

They were directed down a series of hallways, keys in hand, and Lydia found the door without trying while the rest tried to recognize one white door from another.

"It's here! It's right here."

Busting open the door, they all ran down the stairs to the basement, desperate to find the cold teenage boy.

"Stiles?!" Lydia cried out. The Sheriff had gone down the stairs first, but Lydia was right on his heels.

Flashlights shone in every corner, nothing but silence meeting their cries of Stiles' name.

"Lydia?" Scott asked hopefully, his wide eyes clearly hoping she had some idea of another spot in there he might be.

Lydia felt a lump form in her throat. Stiles wasn't there. He never was.

"I don't get it. This has to be it."

The Sheriff had been twisting his head in every direction, crouching down to look under every nook and cranny. His face was distorted with worry and then fear. "Then where is he, huh? Where is he?!"

He shouted the last bit, and she knew it wasn't personal, but she still flinched. He was just a terrified father. But she couldn't help but feel like this was all her fault. She lead them to a completely wrong location, prolonging them finding Stiles even further just based on some 'hunch'.

Stiles' dad sighed. "I'm sorry."

"I don't understand." Lydia whispered, tears in her eyes, looking around the room. Why did she feel such a strong pull there if Stiles wasn't there? What the hell did Eichen House have to do with what was going on with Stiles?

Scott put a comforting hand on Lydia's shoulder. "There's still time. We'll find him."

Lydia ducked her head to hide her tears and pulled away to head upstairs, feeling stupid and humiliated. She couldn't take Scott's sweet comfort right now. She didn't deserve it.

Allison and Isaac were ahead discussing other possibilities they hadn't tried—the school, the warehouse Barrow had been at, when Scott got a text from his mom.

He furrowed his brow. His girlfriend noticed immediately.

"What is it?"

"My mom. She said she and my dad have an idea. They'll let us know if they find him."

Lydia still felt the fear twisted in her chest so tightly it made it hard to breathe.

"Please be okay, Stiles. Please." she murmured to herself as she desolately followed the others out of the building.


Stiles tried to shrink away into the wall, away from the bandaged figure that seemed to be getting off on his agony. He was still drawing the Kanji symbol on the wall.

"You don't understand, do you? It's a riddle. Do you know any riddles, Stiles?"

"A few." he replied with difficulty.

"What gets bigger the more you take away?"

Keeping silent was getting rid of the asshole, so he figured he might as well humour him. Maybe it would help him figure out how to get the hell out of here, or where he was, or buy time for his friends to find him. "A hole."

"What gets wetter the more it dries?"

"A towel."

"When is a door not a door?"

Stiles froze, realization dawning on him. He had suspicions before, but not like now.

"When it's ajar." he whispered, wetness spilling down his cheeks.

"We need to close the door in our minds. As soon as possible." "It sounds like Bardo. There are different progressive states, where you can have hallucinations. Some you see, some you just hear. And you can be visited by peaceful or wrathful deities." "The Oni are looking for someone possessed by a dark spirit."

Stiles' head was spinning. It was all coming back to him now. The moment at the hospital recently, where he couldn't move his own body, couldn't make his voice heard. Where he was trapped. Possessed.

The figure kept speaking. "Everyone has it but no one can lose it, what is it?"

"I don't…" He exhaled deeply, needing more air, shivering again.

"Everyone has it but no one can lose it. What is it, Stiles?"

He couldn't think. His brain was too full. "I don't… I don't know."

"Everyone has it, but no one can lose it."

Stiles shook his head, but he kept speaking, this time in Japanese, no doubt repeating the same obsessive riddle.

"I don't know." Stiles tried to cover his face with his hands, the figure getting too close now.

The bandaged man started bellowing Japanese in a vicious, cutting growl directly in Stiles' face, his wrapped hands grasping the chain of Stiles' trap and dragging him across the floor.

The teeth cut into his leg and he screamed, desperately throwing his hands out to attach to anything. He didn't want to go wherever this guy was taking him. He wanted out.

"No! No! Wait!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. "WAIT! WAITTTTTTT!"

"STILES!" a different voice shouted over his noise, arms latching around him, but he fought against them, still screeching, still desperate to get away, bawling and sobbing as he finally realized he wasn't where he thought he was. He was outside in the woods, Melissa McCall holding him as Scott's dad stood next to them.

His eyes moved around frantically, looking for any sign of the bandaged man, for the trap around his leg, but he couldn't see anything. He hadn't been in a basement. He had been dreaming.

"You're okay. You're all right." Melissa soothed.

Stiles was still shaking all over, unable to catch his breath, tears still falling against his will.

"Stiles, you're all right." she repeated.

He succumbed to her maternal hold, but he wasn't sure he truly believed her words.


Lydia knew it had only been a few minutes, but it felt like it had been hours by the time the Sheriff came out from talking to the doctor to speak to them.

"He's sleeping now, and he's just fine."

She breathed, closing her eyes. He was okay. He was safe. They found him. He had been asleep the entire time, calling Scott and going through the motions of regular life while still in his dream world.

"He doesn't remember much, it's been like a dream to him." He turned to Agent McCall. "Thank you."

Rafael smiled slightly but it was more of a grimace. "It was that repellent we sprayed in the coyote den to keep other animals out. I couldn't go near it without my eyes watering. It was just a good thing he mentioned it over the phone." He had read over the transcripts at the station and Stiles' comment about the brutal smell had sparked his attention. Melissa had come to the station after her shift right on time to join him for the mission to check it out.

The Sheriff argued. "No, it was more than that. Thank you."

"It was a lucky connection." the other father dismissed.

"McCall, can you shut up please? And accept my sincerest gratitude?"

Lydia hid a smirk. She knew they had their differences, but their argument was getting a little silly.

"Accepted." Rafael finally said, shaking his hand.

Melissa turned to Allison, Scott and Lydia, who were still present but barely standing from exhaustion. "All right you three. You've got school in less than six hours. Go home and get some sleep."

They nodded in unison and headed towards the doors, Lydia unable to help casting a look back at the parents, wishing they had let slip which room Stiles was in. What she would do to see him okay before she went home. Isaac and Derek had been fine to head home once they got the all clear that Stiles was safe, leaving only after helping charge Stiles' dead jeep battery, but Lydia wasn't that easily diffused.

She had so many questions. Most, according to the Sheriff's comment about him not remembering much, likely wouldn't be able to be answered.

"Lydia? You okay?" Allison asked, squeezing her hand.

She sighed. "I don't know what happened earlier. I was so sure."

"I wasn't much help either. It doesn't matter if he's okay." Scott reassured her.

She knew he was right. After all, Scott was an alpha werewolf and he hadn't been able to track down his best friend in his time of need. The guilt probably was worse for him than it was for Lydia, even though it made sense that the coyote den repellent would've masked Stiles' scent completely.

She suddenly stopped walking when she heard a strange clanging noise, almost like a hammer hitting an anvil repeatedly. Metal against metal. Loud and clear as day as if there was a blacksmith in the next room.

Allison watched her carefully. "Lydia… do you hear something?"

She licked her lips, focusing her eyes forward and following them out of the hospital. If they couldn't hear it, it was clearly her 'power' that was at work. And that power had already proved once tonight to be unreliable.

She shook her head. "No. I didn't hear anything."