Hey! Um, I see this story's got some new followers and reviewers. I'm not really good at this, so I'm just gonna keep it short. Thanks for reading and reviewing. Keep reading!

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf or any of it's characters.

It took a lot of convincing to get Stiles to agree to spend a night with her, much to Lydia's displeasure. She practically had to invite herself, which shocked her. Ever since the eclipse, she knew Stiles was getting used to her and Aiden, but not once did she ever think he was uninterested. Believe it or not, she had always kind of relied on the fact that Stiles was there for her and would continue to be.

"Stiles, your room is a wreck." Lydia dropped her Prada bag, raising her eyebrows at Stiles's bedroom. Or at least, what used to be a bedroom. The walls had printed research taped to them, toped with pictures of anything that looked remotely close to a wolf, hunter, or lizard person. Lydia shivered at that last one. Those are memories I've tried way to hard to block, she thought. The desk was practically buried under papers and books, and his bed sheets were ruffled, like he hadn't made them up in weeks. "Seriously, it's like a 7.8 hurricane happened in here."

"Yeah, thanks." Stiles rolled his eyes sarcastically, sitting down in his desk chair. He looked on as Lydia made herself comfortable in his bed. "Look, Lydia, you don't have to do this. I know you'd much rather be shopping with Allison, or hanging out with Aiden or something, so."

She didn't exactly have an argument for that because, in truth, she would have much rather spent a girl's night with Allison. They hadn't had one since they all nearly died. She stayed quiet, not bothering to agree or disagree with him.

After about five minutes of painful silence, Stiles finally decided to speak up. "Why are you here, Lydia? Besides the fact that we aren't really close, you haven't spoken to me in two weeks." He turned his back to her, sorting through some of the papers on his desk. "And don't give me some bull crap about helping me with homework, we both know that I could be just as smart as you if I wanted."

Lydia snorted. "Don't put too much confidence in yourself Stiles, that's a huge hurdle to jump."

"Okay, that's not fair! We both know I suck at hurdles." He started twiddling with a pen, chuckling.

Scott hopped off his motorcycle, taking his helmet off. He walked into Deaton's, and headed to the back, hoping his boss was still there. It was Scott's shift tonight anyway, but usually Deaton stayed to talk to him about the side effects of dying and coming back to life. Lucky for him, there wasn't much. Sometimes he felt a little off, but for two months he hadn't felt anything close to the darkness Deaton described to him.

"What can I do for you, Scott?" The vet walked out of his office in the back, meeting Scott half way at the tables where, not too long ago, the twins nearly died.

"Something's wrong with Stiles." Scott got straight to the point, looking at his boss worriedly. "We don't know exactly what yet, and I was hoping you could figure it out."

"Why do you think something's wrong with him?" Deaton looked concerned, but not shocked, which was expected. He had warned them about being exposed to a darkness like the Nematon months ago and knew it was only a matter of time until something happened.

"He hasn't been sleeping, from what I can tell. I haven't ever seen him drink so much caffeine. Uh, I called his dad a few hours ago. He said that Stiles was having nightmares so bad that he needed to scream himself awake." Scott paused as Deaton grabbed a notepad and started writing stuff down. "He's been getting really irritated lately, and sometimes its just out of the blue. He's also been more jittery than usual." The werewolf was just listing now, looking more and more concerned as he realized, finally realized, that something was really wrong with his friend. "I also think he's not taking his Adderall anymore, because he's been really compulsive."

Deaton looked down at his list, eyebrows furrowed. Insomnia, nightmares, irritation, jumpiness, compulsiveness. "Anything else?" When Scott shook his head, Deaton sighed. "Well, lucky for you, it just sounds like he's sleep deprived. Keep an eye on him, to be safe, but I don't think anything's wrong. I do suggest that you should stay at his house for a while. Keep him away from caffeine, make sure he sleeps."

Scott nodded and sighed; he was relieved more than concerned now. "His dad's going out of town this weekend, and I'm pretty sure I could stay with him 'till Monday." Deaton agreed and, seeing how mentally exhausted his employee looked, told Scott to take the night off.

As Scott was getting on his bike, his phone rang, and Allison's face popped up on the screen. The picture was changed to one Scott took of her not too long ago, but every time he saw it, he was suddenly reminded of the picture he used to have of her, where she was kissing his cheek. He answered, holding the phone up to his ear. "Hello?"

"Scott, we found something." The urgency in Allison's voice pretty much destroyed any sense of relief he had, and it shook him.

"What?"

"The stuff you said Stiles was going through? Most of them are signs of demon possession." He noticed that Allison had fear in her voice too, and suddenly got a picture of Isaac comforting her, like he used to do. He was bothered, but the words Allison said shook him out of it.

"What do you mean by demon possession?"

"I don't have all the details right now, but basically, if he is actually possessed, anyone around him could be hurt in an instant." Allison paused, and Scott guessed that she was realizing the same thing he was. "Oh my god, Scott, we need to get him away from Lydia-" Scott hung up, putting his phone in his pocket and getting on his bike. Thoughts were swirling around his head as he started speeding off, but one stood out. Why wouldn't Deaton know about this?

After about thirty minutes of bantering with Lydia, Stiles started feeling tired. The boy excused himself, going downstairs to the kitchen for some coffee. He was pouring himself a cup when a pain exploded in the back of his head, making him drop his mug onto the counter clumsily.

Stiles.

The voice in Stiles's head suddenly interrupted his thoughts on the pain. He panicked, putting the container of coffee on the counter next to his broken mug and putting a hand on his head. It hurt, so badly that he bit his tongue to keep from screaming. He felt himself back up against the wall harshly, his legs moving in jerky movements.

Let me have it, Stiles.

Stiles gasped, pressing both of his hands into his head. "Who are you?" He muttered, sliding down the wall to sit roughly. "What do you want?" He felt something drip down his face and onto his lips, tasting like salt. More of it started dripping until Stiles was convinced his whole face was soaked with the mysterious liquid.

Stop crying, Stiles. Just let go.

"Who are you!?" Stiles yelled. His ears began ringing, louder and louder until all he heard was a shrill buzzing. He removed his hands from his head, seeing that blood covered them, the nails most caked in red. My ears are bleeding. Why are my ears bleeding?

Let go, Stiles.

"Let go of what? I don't-" Stiles started hyperventilating, his chest closing up. The pain in his head felt like it was doubling, and he had to put his hands on his head in a sad attempt to stop his ears from bleeding. When he tried to get up, his legs gave out from under him.

Stiles, just-

The voice in his head didn't get to finish as the boy started screaming at the top of his lungs, crying out. He kept on, even as he heard Lydia run down the stairs and quickly crouch down next to him. He kept hearing the voice in his head, the volume of it unaffected by the screaming.

That's it, Stiles. Let go, boy, and I promise you won't feel this ever again.

Short chapter, I know, but luckily I have a four day weekend and lots of time to write! :)