T is for Trap

"It's kinda weird being back here," Stiles said, kicking at the leaf-covered ground. "Though I suppose if I am gonna be here it makes sense that it would be with you, stomping around these stupid woods in the middle of the night."

Scott snorted next to him. "We did spend a lot of time out here, didn't we?"

"Too much time," Stiles responded, and the two lapsed into silence. Stiles shoved his hands into his pockets, scrunching his shoulders up toward his ears as a cool breeze raised goosebumps on his arms. "So…You really think something is happening with the Nemeton?"

Scott shrugged. "I'm not sure. Something just feels…off, ya know?"

"It's Beacon Hills, Scott, when does it not feel off?" Stiles snapped, and then sighed. "Sorry. It's just…I was really hoping that when I left, I'd left all of this behind for good. But if it is the Nemeton, then I need to be here. I'm glad you called."

"Me too." Scott reached over, nudging Stiles's arm with an elbow. "It's good to see you."

Stiles opened his mouth to respond, but didn't get the chance. The next step he took, his foot hit something unfamiliar and then, with the sound of grinding metal, something closed around his right ankle. He let out a scream as he crashed to the ground, hands instinctively reaching for the bear trap that had clamped down on him.

"Stiles!" Scott shouted. "Stiles, hang on, I'm gonna get that thing off you, hang on!"

Stiles barely heard him; the pain was excruciating, lightning bolts of agony spreading through his foot and lower leg. At the same time he felt nauseous, his stomach turning, and he knew that besides the blood spilling down his ankle and soaking into his sock, his leg was definitely broken. Panic seized his chest, wrapping around his lungs and throat and making it impossible for him to catch his breath.

"Stiles, breathe!" Scott urged, reaching forward to grab Stiles's hand, veins going black as he leached the pain from his friend. "I've got you, breathe."

Stiles let out a small relieved sound as the pain lessened, but the panic persisted. The sight of the trap around his ankle had recalled a memory that Stiles hadn't thought about in close to a decade, and it filled him with a cold dread. Though this was the first time he'd actually been caught in a bear trap, it wasn't the first time he'd seen himself like 's breath came in short, shaking bursts, the world tilting and pitching beneath him, and suddenly he wasn't in the woods anymore, but a dark, dank basement.

"When is a door not a door?"

xxx

Scott groaned as he pulled the pain from Stiles, but it didn't seem to be helping Stiles's panic at all. The scent of it was wafting off of him, thick and pungent, and he was visibly pale in the moonlight, his face a stark white, sweat beading on his forehead. He was staring at some point over Scott's shoulder, eyes wide, and he was gasping for breath, chest heaving, heart racing. He was still staring when he listed to one side, and Scott felt his own heart rate pick up.

"Whoa!" he cried as he grabbed Stiles's shoulders and leaned him back onto the dirt, chest tightening with concern. "Stiles, you're okay, I'm gonna get the trap off of you now, okay? Stiles!"

Stiles's eyes were still open but vacant, and his whole body was trembling. It wasn't just panic coming off him anymore, but terror. Scott didn't know what was happening, but he knew he had to move fast.

"Okay, Stiles, you're gonna be fine," Scott said, gripping the jaws of the trap. It wasn't too hard to pry them open; it was the scent of the blood spilling from the ragged wounds and the strangled cry from Stiles that made him almost slip. He managed to keep his grip, though, pulling the trap off of Stiles's ankle and letting it snap shut as he flung it away.

Stiles was barely conscious now, dark lashes fluttering, lids heavy over his brown, watery eyes. Blood was pouring heavily from his ankle and Scott moved quickly, first peeling off his jacket to drape over Stiles's trembling form, and then ripping strips of fabric from the bottom of his t-shirt. He wrapped one, and then the other, around the holes in Stiles's leg, tightening them as much as he could before tying them off, concern deepening when the action barely garnered a response. The fear was rolling off of Stiles in waves, and though he was still awake he seemed far away.

"Stiles?" Scott reached toward him, pulling away when Stiles flinched back violently.

"I won't let you in," Stiles whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. "Not again. Not again."

Realization hit Scott all at once. Stiles hadn't told him much about the night in the coyote den all those years ago, but Scott remembered now what little he had said-that he'd been caught in a bear trap. And that the Nogitsune was there. The pain and trauma must have been enough to send Stiles right back there.

"Stiles," Scott repeated, gentler than he had before. He reached forward, more slowly this time, and placed a hand on Stiles's arm. "It's me. It's Scott. You're having a flashback. You're-you're hurt but you're safe. You're safe, Stiles. It's Scott. I've got you, man."

Stiles's breathing slowed slightly and he opened his eyes, looking up at Scott with a confused frown.

"Scott?"

"Yeah, buddy, it's me," Scott said, a wave of relief flooding him at the recognition on Stiles's face. "You know where you are?

"I-" Stiles glanced around uncertainly. "The woods? I don't…the Nogitsune…" His face twisted into a grimace. "Fuck, my leg!"

"We need to get you to the hospital, get that taken care of," Scott said. "I can carry you."

Stiles shook his head. He still had that wide-eyed look, was still gasping for breath, but he spoke firmly. "No, just. Help me up, I can walk."

"Here we go," Scott murmured as he pulled Stiles's arm around his shoulders. Then he took Stiles's hand in his own, drawing Stiles's pain to make it easier as he hauled him to his feet. Stiles didn't make any noise, but Scott could tell by his tensed jaw and flared nostrils that he was feeling it. But he remained stubbornly, determinedly silent as they made their way back to where Scott's car was parked. Scott drew as much pain as he could while still being able to keep Stiles upright.

"You okay?" Scott asked after a moment.

Stiles nodded, head moving up and down in a short, choppy movement. Scott didn't need to hear his heartbeat or smell the anxiety that still hung in the air to know that his friend was lying. His awkward hopping was getting slower and increasingly clumsy, until finally Scott stopped.

"That's enough, Stiles, I'm carrying you the rest of the way out of here."

"Scott-"

"Don't try and argue with me. You're losing a lot of blood and we need to get you out of here, so I'm carrying you whether you like it or not. You and I both know you couldn't stop me even if you weren't hurt."

Stiles shot him a dark look, but didn't argue as Scott scooped him into his arms. His body was tense, and Scott could practically feel Stiles's heartbeat in his own chest. Scott wasn't sure whether it was from pain or adrenaline, or whether Stiles was still experiencing the flashback to some extent. All he knew was that he needed to move fast.

"Look," Scott said after a few minutes. "There's the edge of the forest. Almost there, Stiles!"

He'd been so focused on getting back to the car that he hadn't noticed Stiles go still in his arms.

xxx

Stiles was caught somewhere between wakefulness and unconsciousness, drifting in and out between reality and fiction. Pain was the only constant, a deep, unyielding ache in his leg punctuated by the occasional sharp burst that made him groan or, if it was really bad, pulled the air from his lungs.

Scott was there, he knew that. And they were in a car that was, mercifully, warmer than the woods had been, though he didn't remember getting there. He would be there for one moment, huddled in the passenger seat, and then he'd drift off and wind up back in the basement of Eichen House, the Nogitsune waiting for him, all bandages and bared teeth. So he tried, desperately, to stay awake.

"Don't let me sleep," he murmured at some point, or he thought he did. It was hard to tell whether the thought had actually made it past his mouth. It must have, because every time he found himself drifting off after that (from pain or blood loss or both) he would feel a hand on his knee or shoulder or face, and Scott would be saying his name.

"Stay awake, Stiles!" Scott said for what seemed like the millionth time, and then he added (and this was new), "We're almost there. Just another minute, Stiles." He grabbed Stiles's hand and the pain in Stiles's leg diminished until it was nothing but a distant, dull ache, and Stiles took a deep breath, his mind clearing somewhat.

"I'm getting blood all over your new car."

Scott let out a strained laugh. "Don't worry about it."

"Good thing it's not a rental."

Scott laughed again, a brittle, nervous sound, and pulled up next to the ER doors. "Let's get you inside," he said, scrambling to undo his seatbelt before hurrying around to Stiles's side. Stiles managed to get his seatbelt undone, despite his shaking hands, and already had the door open when Scott got there.

"You ready?" Scott asked.

"As I'll ever be," Stiles murmured.

He almost passed out when Scott got him to his feet (well, foot), both from the agony that spiked through his leg, and from the wave of dizziness that hit him. But he managed to stay conscious, if barely so, as Scott helped him into the ER waiting room, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

"We need some help!" Scott called.

Stiles was practically hanging off of him now, his heartbeat pulsing in his ears, vision getting staticky at the edges. The response was, thankfully, rapid, and before he knew it Stiles was on a gurney being wheeled away, Dr. Geyer asking rapidfire questions while directing other medical personnel-one cut away his pant leg while another swabbed the inside of his arm.

The sensation of the IV needle entering his skin was enough to make him faint. This time, he stayed unconscious.

The Nogitsune stayed with him.

xxx

"How is he?" Scott had just gotten done moving his car and throwing away the blood-soaked car mat and was with his mom now.

"He lost a lot of blood. They're taking him up for surgery now. You did a good job getting him here so quickly. Do I even want to know what you two were doing out there?"

"Probably not," Scott admitted.

Melissa sighed. "Well, I told the sheriff that you would go out tomorrow with him and Parrish to look for any other traps lying around…Scott? You look worried, baby, what's wrong?"

Scott chewed on the inside of his cheek. "It's Stiles. You remember that night he went missing and you and Dad found him?"

Melissa shuddered slightly, pulling her arms a little tighter around herself. "It's kind of hard to forget."

"I think what happened tonight triggered a flashback. He, uh…he was having a really hard time, Mom. And you remember what it was like for him those months after the Nogitsune, and Allison…I just don't want him to have to go through that again, you know?"

Melissa nodded, brow furrowed, then pulled Scott in for a hug. Scott buried his head in her shoulder.

"I shouldn't have asked him to come back here."

Melissa pulled away from Scott and gripped his arms tightly. "Scott McCall, don't you dare start with that self-blame bullshit."

Scott felt his eyebrows climb at her language. "Mom!"

"I mean it, Scott. You're both adults. He made the decision to come here, and to walk in those woods with you. He'll get through this. You'll help him through it. But you being weighed down with guilt isn't going to help anyone."

Scott nodded with a long sigh. "You're right."

"I'm your mother, of course I'm right." Melissa reached up and kissed his forehead. "I have to get back to work, but I'll keep you updated the minute I hear anything."

"Thanks, Mom."

He gave her one last hug before trudging to the waiting room and collapsing into one of the chairs, exhausted.

It was going to be a long night.

xxx