Walking through the front door of the McCall residence, the pack breathed a sigh of relief at its calming security.
"Mom?" Scott called out as a habit. Suddenly remembering that this was all just a memory, he shook his head to clear his thoughts and walked into the living room.
"Stiles?" Lydia looks toward the couch and sees the missing pack member sleeping soundly. Hoping that they found the present day Stiles, she approaches him hesitantly.
Suddenly, the sleeping boy jolted awake with a gasp and stood up, causing Lydia to back away in surprise.
Past Scott ran into the room and caught Stiles before he falls over. "Hey, you okay?"
"You were right, Lydia," Scott said. "This is really creepy."
"What happened, how long was I out?" Stiles panicked.
"Just a couple hours," past Scott replied. Looking hesitantly at his friend, he said, "You should sit down."
Ignoring the alpha's advice, Stiles continued, "Where's my dad?"
"He's at Eichen House, looking for Meredith. I promised I wouldn't let you out of my sight."
"When is this?" Liam suddenly asked, turning everyone's attention away from the scene in front of them.
Realizing that the young teenager didn't know them at this time, Kira replied, "This was when Stiles was possessed by the Nogitsune. Or after they split bodies, I guess."
"I'm sorry, what?" Liam asked, thoroughly confused.
"We'll explain later," Lydia replied, looking back at Stiles.
"I just sort of feel like we're waiting for a ransom call," the pale boy said.
"We'll find her," past Scott reassured.
Stiles, seemingly not that reassured by Scott's words, anxiously scratched his arm and then reached for his jacket. Shakily, he struggled to put his arms through the sleeves. Once the jacket was finally on, he pulled it around himself in a futile attempt to get warm.
"You alright?" Scott asked with concern.
"Yeah," Stiles replied, his voice somewhat unsteady due to his shivering. "I don't know why, I just can't seem to get warm."
"Maybe you should sit down; take it easy." Scott gestured to the couch behind them. He put his hand over Stiles', hoping convince him to relax, and pulled back in surprise. "You're in pain."
"It's not that bad," Stiles attempted to ease his friends worry. "It's just like a dull ache."
"Where?" Scott asked.
"Sort of everywhere," Stiles replied, his voice cracking.
Hesitantly, Scott put his hand over Stiles' again. Pulling away, Stiles sat down on the couch.
"Dude, you're freezing," Scott said, his voice laced with concern.
Rubbing his hands over his mouth, Stiles looked down tensely. Scott sat down on the coffee table and looked intensely at Stiles.
"Tell me the truth. How much does it really hurt?"
Stiles rested his chin atop his clasped hands, and looked back and forth between Scott and the floor. Trying several times to say something, he was cut off by the phone ringing.
"I think that's our cue to leave," Kira said, gesturing toward the kitchen. The rest of the pack soon followed, and the doorway led them to another memory.
Walking into a sterile looking hallway, Malia softly growled, "Not this place again."
"What's this place?" Liam asked.
"Eichen House."
A sudden tense feeling in the air, Lydia broke the silence by saying, "Is that Brunski?"
Looking down the hall, the pack saw the familiar orderly.
"Oh no," Malia said, starting to walk toward the man.
"What?" Scott asked, following Malia's stride.
"This is the night Stiles tried to break into the basement."
"Why would Stiles want to break into a basement?" Kira asked, struggling to keep up with the were-coyote's fast pace.
"I don't remember. Something about a dream he had? I didn't really ask. Anyway, I just remember he was very unsuccessful."
"What do you mean, 'unsuccessful'?" Lydia asked.
Ignoring the banshee's question, Malia paused as the pack almost ran into Brunski and a few other orderlies.
"Into the quiet room, little man," Brunski said, moving to the side to reveal a disgruntled Stiles. Gesturing to a bottle of pills, the man asked, "Wanna tell us where you got these?"
"Vending machine," Stiles said dismissively.
With a smirk, Brunski retorted, "I always loved the sarcastic ones.
Stiles' face fell in realization as he noticed a syringe in the orderly's hand. "Give him 5 of Haldol."
"What is that? What is – wait, what is that? Is that a sedative?" Stiles said anxiously, struggling to break free of the mental workers' grip. "Okay, hang on. Hang on, I can't go to sleep. Okay? I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
As the orderlies attempted to inject the human, Stiles' attempts grew more desperate. "Get off, get off of me!" He struggled fervently against their grips, and jerked away as the syringe was plunged into his arm. He screamed in hopelessness and frustration,
"No, I can't—I can't go to sleep." Stiles fell to the floor as his limbs began to falter. "You don't understand. You don't—I got . . . you don't get it." Stiles slowly collapsed onto the floor, his words becoming jumbled in his stupor. "I gotta stay awake. I gotta stay . . ."
Clenching his jaw, Scott said, "Let's go." Wordlessly, the pack walked out of the padded room and into darkness.