STILES

"Movie night?" Stiles suggested. Class had just ended for the day, and Scott had asked Stiles what they were going to do. "Seriously, we really need to remedy the fact you haven't seen Star Wars."

"I'll watch it – eventually," Scott said, hesitating on the word eventually.

"You literally made me sit down with you for eight hours one day and watch The Lizzie Bennet Diaries. I think you can handle about two hours for A New Hope," Stiles replied.

"First of all, you ended up liking it," Scott began, "and besides, shouldn't I start with the first movie? The Phantom… something?"

"Okay, I'm going to pretend you didn't just call that movie the first one, and pretend you didn't butcher the name either," Stiles replied.

"Okay, fine then. We'll do movie night, and I'll finally sit down and watch Star Wars. Happy?"

"I'm surprised," Stiles replied, smiling but also suspiciously looking at his friend. "You usually don't give in to my pleas so easily."

Scott shrugged his shoulder helplessly, the usual puppy dog look on his face. Stiles rolled his eyes, already knowing what was coming.

"Let me guess – we're only hanging out partially tonight?" Stiles asked, to which the look on Scott's face betrayed him. "Oh, come on, dude! It's guy's night!"

"I have a date tonight, dude," Scott replied apologetically.

"Ugh, fine, go have fun with Kira," Stiles replied with a wave of his hand. Scott, however, looked at him in confusion.

"Who?" Scott asked, raising his eyebrow in confusion.

"You know, Kira – the girl who you make googly eyes at al the time and does the same to you?"

"Stop messing around, Stiles," Scott said with a laugh. "If Allison hears you saying I'm going out with some make believe girl, she'll kill me."

"If… what?" Stiles asked, feeling immediately confused. What was Scott talking about? It was weird, like Stiles had suddenly forgotten something very important… why had he even mentioned the name Kira? "I uh… I guess it was too funny of a joke, huh?" Stiles replied sheepishly, but Scott didn't seem to notice it.

"I'll meet you at your car, dude. I just have to go let Allison know we're meeting up later… if you know what I mean."

Stiles muttered back a reply, not really paying attention anymore. There was a strange feeling going through him… He felt off. Not only that, but this… being where he was felt weird. Especially Scott mentioning Allison. Why did that make Stiles feel so weird?

"Don't look so down, Stiles," he heard Lydia say, suddenly appearing by him. "If anyone understands how I feel about Allison always ditching me, it's you with Scott. They do this all the time."

"Do they?" Stiles asked. "I guess I'm just… feeling a little weird today."

"You do look a little weird," Lydia replied. "Maybe you caught something. If that is the case, I hope you don't mind, but I'll need to stay back. Jackson will rant and rave for hours if I get him sick again."

"Jackson?" Stiles asked. "He's back in town?"

Lydia looked at Stiles with clear confusion on his face, but also with another expression he felt was familiar – worry.

"Stiles, Jackson hasn't gone out of town since summer, when he and Danny went to Vegas and got arrested? Why are you looking at me like that?" Lydia asked. "Look, I think you should go home and lie down. Clearly, something is wrong here. Anyway, if you end up not being sick, call me over the weekend. We can double date with your special someone."

"What…? What are you talking about?"

But as the question fell out of Stiles mouth, Lydia had already ended the discussion with a brisk turn and by walking away.

Jackson… why did Stiles feel so weird when Lydia mentioned him? Of course Jackson was still in town… why would he have left? Then again, there was something else in Stiles' head troubling him about Jackson. It felt like he should have already known Jackson was in town.

Stiles decided Lydia was right. Maybe he should go home and rest for awhile. Stiles' head felt light, and despite the victory he had made over Scott's reluctance to watch one of the greatest films of all time, Stiles knew he should cancel.

As Stiles walked out of the school and into the parking lot, he couldn't help but feel weird sensations as he looked around. He kept focusing on other people: Isaac approaching no doubt his dad's car with some weird look of nervousness. Boyd was walking over to Erica, who looked completely dismayed until she saw him, smiling happily.

And then the boy next to her –

Stiles vision suddenly began to blur, and then he heard a loud booming sound in his head and fell to the ground. Something about that boy next to her – he thought for a minute his face had been blurred, as if Stiles wasn't meant to recognize him. As he fell to the ground, grabbing his head and the sound and visions causing him great pain, he could have sworn he heard a distant, low "No" being repeated over and over again, as if he'd seen something he shouldn't have.

"Stiles? Stiles, you need to get up. Are you okay?"

Suddenly, the pain, the sounds, and the vision were gone. Stiles could feel his chest pounding, and he was temporarily worried he'd been imagining all of that, that he'd had a panic attack. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and as Stiles looked up, he was surprised by who he saw.

Derek was kneeling by his side, no blank or brooding expression on his face. He looked scared.

"I'm… I'm okay," Stiles replied, getting up with Derek's assistance. This day was getting weirder and weirder. "What are you doing here, Derek?"

"I… well, I must admit, I was expecting a bit of a warmer welcoming than that," Derek replied, and suddenly got a half smirk on his face. "I thought I'd swing by once you were out of school. I know it's guys night for you and Scott, but –"

"How would you know that?" Stiles asked, confused. "Why would you even come by to see me after school? I'd have thought if you came to see anyone, you'd see Scott. You only come to me when you have wolfsbane in your system."

Derek stepped back when Stiles said this, and a clear look of hurt was on his face. Stiles felt bad immediately. Since when did Derek show his emotions so openly? Then again, Stiles couldn't help but feel frustrated. He felt so… lost. Like he was forgetting something, like this didn't make any sense. But nothing felt like it was making sense to him.

"Wolfsbane… What are you talking about? Anyway, can we not fight? At least, not here?" Derek whispered. "If you're mad because I did something, just let me know."

"I…" Stiles wasn't sure how to respond, but before he could, Allison suddenly was by Derek, looking between the two with a strange knowing look. Why did she look like she knew something they didn't?

"Hey, boys," Allison said with a grin. "I hate to interrupt, but I need to talk to Stiles alone for a moment."

"Sure," Derek replied, a blank expression on his face again. He turned toward Stiles, and tried to smile. "Call me later on, okay? I still have some leftovers from last night, and I could definitely use someone to come over and help me finish them."

With that, Derek turned and left, and Stiles felt incredibly perplexed. What leftovers? What-?

"We need to talk, Stiles," Allison said, and whatever cheerful tone had been in her voice before was now again. It was demanding and authoritative.

"Sure… if it's about Scott, I was actually about to cancel –"

"It's not about that," Allison replied with a careless tone, as if he were wasting her time. "I saw how you looked a second ago, when you fell and seemed to be having some sort of… headache," she replied, stretching the word headache in a suspicious manner.

"Yeah, I uh, I don't know what happened there," Stiles replied.

"I saw you looking in Boyd and Erica's direction," Allison replied. "I could have sworn I saw a boy by them too. I didn't catch his face though – such a shame."

"Yeah, I guess so," Stiles replied. "I didn't really see his face either. Look, Allison, what did you come over here to talk about?"

"Just wanted to see if you were okay, Stiles," Allison replied with a honeyed tone, but it sounded fake. "Also, to know what you saw. I guess we both just imagined the boy, huh?" she said, though it sounded like a demand, as if she were telling Stiles there had been no boy. Why did Allison care so much about some boy that Stiles wasn't even sure had been there?

Except, Allison had seemed to see him, too. But… this just felt all too wrong to Stiles. It didn't make any sense. And he knew, deep down, Allison would never act like this with him.

"You're not real," Stiles replied suddenly. Allison smiled.

"Oh, I'm very real, Mr. Stilinski," Allison replied, her tone balanced again, but she didn't even sound like Allison. "But you're right for thinking that I'm not the real Allison."

"Then who are you?!" Stiles exclaimed, and suddenly the fake Allison reached out and grabbed his left hand with a hard grasp. He was sure if she wanted to, she could break it in an instant. He began looking around at the other students who were milling around them, but none so much as looked in their direction, as if they weren't even there.

"Don't bother screaming. Frankly, I find it annoying when people do it, but also, nobody here will even hear you."

"This is a dream," Stiles replied, more to himself than her. "This has to be."

"Of course it is," the fake Allison replied with distaste. "I would have expected someone with as much experience as you to have realized that by now."

"You… you made this place, didn't you? That's why none of it makes sense," Stiles replied.

"Oh, I can only take credit for part of it. This world, this dream, is all one that your mind made up. I just gave it a nudge in a direction I considered kind – after all, I imagine you've been having nightmares. I figured, why not give him a world in which there is no werewolves, no Kanimas, nothing that could harm him that he wouldn't be able to defend himself against?

"You, however, are the one who imagined your friends all this way, in a world where Scott was never bitten, were there were no werewolves and Hunters in Beacon Hills. I must say, the way you see your friend if he had never become a werewolf is rather harsh. He seems like a bad friend to be constantly ditching you. And Allison… well, you didn't have much of an opinion on her, did you? Though I must say I find it surprising you imagined Lydia, a girl you liked, with a boy you really could care less about."

"Yeah, well, Lydia and I are just friends," Stiles replied with frustration. "Just because I used to like her doesn't mean I still do. I appreciate our friendship too much."

"Yes, a friendship that happened because of Scott. And yet, in this world, even when Scott didn't become a werewolf, a world in which you had once liked Lydia, you no longer do. You imagine her with another boy. And Derek… well, I must say, that was surprising what you conjured up."

"What are you talking about?" Stiles replied, growing angrier, and he began to try to pry his arm from the fake Allison. "Listen, let me go or-"

"Or what?" she replied. "You'll attack me? The helpless little boy who only continues to get in the way? You know, I thought we could be kind to one another, but I guess not. I even temporarily stripped away all those ugly memories away from you. But fine, no more being nice. You can have them all back."

The fake Allison let go of Stiles, but as she did, she placed her freehand on his forehead, and before he could move, another pain erupted in Stiles.

His head felt like it was on fire, and now he was beginning to understand why he felt like something was out of place, like something was missing. The memories all came back, all at once, and the pain and guilt and anger and disappoint he felt were all fighting in him for dominance.

He screamed – truly, and loudly. It was one thing to feel all these things spread out. It was another for someone to take away all your pain and then hand it back to you in one dose. Stiles didn't know who this fake Allison was, but he felt like he was standing before a truly vindictive person.

"What do you want?" Stiles asked.

"I wanted an easy way to get into your mind, to pick around, to know what you did, what you've seen," the fake Allison replied. Stiles felt even more pain as he looked at this fake. He knew whoever this person was that they had picked this form on purpose. It had been a way to punish him, to hurt him.

"Why? Why would you care what I've seen?" Stiles asked, his voice raspy as he tried to regain his breathing. He was worried he might have a panic attack right there.

"Nothing, luckily," the fake Allison replied with a smile. This time, it seemed genuine, but not meant to be friendly. It seemed predatory. "But there is something else I am curious about you that my data couldn't tell me – tell me, why were you possessed by the Nogitsune?"

"Because I was weak," Stiles replied.

"Oh, see, I wasn't looking for a guilt-driven answer. I wanted something genuine. Especially since a Nogitsune wouldn't go for some weak-minded human unless it had no choice. But you, you weren't a last resort. You were picked with purpose. I want to know what makes you so special, Stiles."

"I'm not special," Stiles replied. "I'm just some lanky normal kid with a baseball bat trying to fight the forces of evil."

"I think we can both agree to be truthful, Mr. Stilinski," she replied with a clipped tone. "And we both know you're lying when you say you're just some 'normal' boy. Of course, maybe you just don't want to admit it."

"Admit what?" Stiles replied.

Before the woman could reply, however, a noise suddenly caught Stiles attention. It was a scream. A loud, piercing, familiar scream. Lydia.

He knew that scream well enough to know that it was real, and it was not good.

"No!" the fake Allison shouted as Stiles vision began to blur. "I am not done questioning-!"

But Stiles vision went black. Suddenly, he could see Beacon Hills now, at nighttime, and there was a mob of people surrounding a couple. It took Stiles a second to realize it was Lydia and Jackson, and they were both outside by some diner. The people surrounding, however, did not look friendly.

Then, Stiles vision went black again, and when it returned, it was because he was sitting up in Scott's bed, panting and sweating, finally waking up. Stiles looked at the time. It was just a little after eleven. He looked around for Scott, but only saw a note. Immediately, Stiles ran downstairs, trying to call Scott while he went to his jeep.

He knew where Lydia was, and he knew that scream had been genuine. She and Jackson were in trouble.