"Where are we now?" Kira asked, trying to adjust her eyes to the pitch black lighting.
"Hang on, this smells familiar." Malia took a cautious step forward, focusing on her senses as she began to recognize the aroma. Gasping in realization, she said, "We're in—"
Her statement was cut off as she cascaded down the steps in front of her. Thankfully catching herself before she fell down the entire flight of stairs, she shook her head to steady herself and continued to walk forward. The rest of the pack, now noticing that they were in fact standing on a staircase, followed suit.
"Malia, where are we?" Scott asked.
Before Malia could answer, a terrified yet clear whisper echoed throughout the room, "Scott?"
"Stiles?" Scott said, looking around for the source of the voice. "Is that you?"
"Scott, I don't know where I am. I don't know how I got here," Stiles shakily responded, the shivering in his voice evident.
"Stiles, you were attacked, remember? The druid hit you with a spell," Scott said, still trying to locate his friend.
"No, I don't know. It's dark, it's hard to see," the teen said breathlessly.
"Scott," Lydia said, grabbing onto his arm in order to find him. "I don't think that's our Stiles."
"What do you mean?" Scott asked, his eyes finally beginning to adjust to the darkness.
"Scott? I don't think I can get out of here, I can't move," Stiles said, an edge of panic to his voice.
"Wait, wait, wait. Stiles said this to me before." Bringing his hands to the side of his face, Scott tried to remember the conversation. "This was the night Stiles was sleepwalking."
"But that doesn't make any sense," Kira interjected. "Didn't you say Stiles was found in the coyote den?"
"He was," Scott answered, confused.
"Well then, why are we in the basement of Eichen House?" Malia asked.
"Wait, did you say were at Eichen House? In the basement?" Lydia asked. When she received a nod from Malia, she continued, "I could have sworn that Stiles was here that night. Remember?"
Kira gasped in understanding and said, "That makes sense. We aren't in the coyote den because Stiles didn't know he was there. Right now, we're where Stiles thought he was."
"We're in his dream," Malia concluded.
After a few moments of tense silence, past Stiles said, "Because I think there's someone in here with me."
Looking down, as their eyes had finally adjusted to the light, they saw Stiles lying haphazardly on the cement floor. As he turned on the flashlight in his phone, he shone it toward his leg.
The gruesome image of flesh and blood marred by a bear trap was permanently seared into Scott's mind. Fighting the urge to break apart the steel trap, because he knew he wouldn't have made any difference, the alpha grabbed Lydia's arm for reassurance.
Stiles' heartwrenching scream of pure agony and terror was also engraved in Scott's memory that night.
As Stiles collapsed on his side in despair, he attempted to calm his breathing. A sudden noise behind the furnace caught the boys attention, and the light from his flashlight whipped toward the source.
"Who's there?" he asked shakily. "I know you're there – I can hear you."
Barely noticing the single tear that dripped down his cheek, Stiles continued to maneuver his flashlight in order to find the unwelcomed guest.
Finally, his flashlight settled on the opposite side of the wall. Drawing the attention of the entire pack, they turned and saw a gruesome figure crouched near the wall.
"What the hell is that?" Liam asked, subconsciously moving closer to the alpha.
"A Nogitsune," Kira whispered.
"Who are you?" Stiles said to the spirit. The faint sound of chalk scratching on a wall was his only response. As a mummified hand slowly dropped the piece of chalk onto the ground, Stiles breathed deeply in trepidation. Pointing the flashlight back toward the wall, a reverse image of the number 5 was crudely drawn.
"Self," Stiles narrated.
Then, as if from the utterance of the word alone, the chalk melted away in a stream of smoke.
"That's not natural," Malia stated.
Angrily throwing his phone to the floor, as it seemed to have lost battery, Stiles futilely attempted to free his foot from the steel trap. A scream of pain and frustration tore from him, and Lydia put a hand to her mouth as she gasped in horror.
The sound of footsteps drew Stiles away from his task, and he backed toward the wall in alarm.
"Who's there?" he asked, feigning defiance. "Who are you?!"
Responding in Japanese, the creature slowly sauntered closer to the defenseless boy.
"What?" Stiles asked.
As the creature continued to respond in the foreign language, Stiles fell onto his elbows and pulled his hands to his face.
"I don't – I don't understand."
"Not 'who are you,' Stiles. Who are we?" Looking up, Stiles squinted his eyes in confusion. "It's getting colder, Stiles. Did you notice that we stopped shivering? You know why that's a bad sign."
"It's the body trying to conserve energy. It was my fifth grade science report. Hypothermia."
"Our feet are starting to thicken. Then comes fatigue, confusion. We're going to die if we don't get out of here."
Stiles looked to the creature with disgust. "Stop saying that. Stop saying 'we'."
"We're trying to keep you from freezing to death. You better get out, Stiles."
"How?" Stiles asked gesturing to his bloody leg. "There's a freaking steel jaw trap on my leg!"
"Is there?" the Nogitsune asked. Stiles hung his head in desperation and looked toward his leg, suddenly realizing the difference. "Notice something different? It was on your right leg before, wasn't it?"
"No, no," Stiles muttered, trying to make some sense out of the situation.
"Are you sure?"
"What the hell is this? What are you doing?" Stiles asked desperately, his voice cracking from the cold and frustration.
"We're trying to save you, Stiles. We're trying to save your life. You don't understand, do you? It's a riddle. Do you know any riddles, Stiles?"
Stiles replied, "A few."
"What gets bigger, the more you take away?"
"A hole."
"What gets wetter, the more it dries?"
"A towel."
"When is a door not a door?"
Scott and Lydia perked up at this question. Stiles paused a moment before answering, "When it's ajar."
"Everyone has it, but no one can lose it. What is it?"
"I don't . . ."
Letting out a sigh, the Nogitsune repeats, "Everyone has it, but no one can lose it. What is it, Stiles?"
"I don't—I don't know." Stiles squinted his eyes in frustration and fear.
"Everyone has it, but no one can lose it."
Shaking, Stiles put his hands up to his temples. "I don't know."
Suddenly, the Nogitsune stood right in front of Stiles' face, and repeated the question loudly in Japanese. Stiles flinched and attempted to back away.
Unsatisfied with the response, the creature grabbed the chain attached to the steel trap and began to pull, dragging a pained and terrified Stiles along the floor.
"Oh my god," Lydia said, running forward and trying to stop the Nogitsune from harming her friend.
"No, no, no!" The terrified screams of Stiles filled the room, and suddenly everyone was plunged into darkness.
Adjusting their eyes to the dim light surrounding them, the pack looked around the new setting. Only the sound of hesitant breaths and strained gulps filled Stiles' bedroom.
"That was . . ." Liam started, not knowing how to comment on what he just witnessed.
"Terrifying?" Lydia supplied.
"Yeah," Liam answered.
Looking around their surroundings, the pack noticed Stiles shooting up from his bed, gasping for breath.
"You okay?" past Lydia asked. "Stiles?"
"Lydia, when were you in Stiles' bed?" Scott asked, a slight smirk on his face.
"I wasn't," Lydia said faintly. "I don't remember this."
"Yeah, I was just dreaming," Stiles responded, aware of Lydia's hand on his arm. "It was weird; it was like a dream within a dream."
"A nightmare?" past Lydia supplied.
Present Lydia squinted her eyes and said, "My god, is that really what my hair looked like?"
"Yeah," Stiles replied. Looking down at Lydia's hand, which was now enclosed with his own, Stiles faltered for a moment. Hesitantly looking at the red head, Stiles said, "Wait a sec. Lydia, what are you doing here?"
The creaking doorway prevented Lydia from answering. All eyes were suddenly trained on the open door, an eerie darkness emanating from the adjacent room.
Stiles began to move from his position on the bed. However, Lydia grabbed his arm and said, "Stiles, where are you going?"
"I just need to close the door."
"Just go back to sleep."
"No, no, no," Stiles said, rising from the bed. "I should close it."
"Don't worry about it," Lydia placated, hoping to convince him to lie down.
"What if someone comes in?" Stiles whispered.
"Like who?" Lydia realistically asked. "Just go back to sleep, Stiles."
"No, but what if they get in?" Stiles asked, distress and panic in his voice.
"What if who gets in?" Lydia asked, confused. "Stiles? Just leave it, please. Stiles? Stiles, come back to bed." The redhead's voice started to become panicked. "Stiles, please? Don't, Stiles. Don't!"
Ignoring the girl's advice, Stiles slowly began opening the door, and he moved closer toward the darkness.
"Don't go in there. Please, don't. Please, Stiles, don't!"
Hurriedly following the boy, the pack found themselves in a dark and dimly lit forest.
Suddenly, bright lights illuminated the scene. Surrounding the group in a circle, with the infamous Nematon at its center.
"Okay, this is just a dream," Stiles said to himself, his breathing becoming heavy with anxiety. "This is just a dream, get it out of your head Stiles. You're dreaming. Alright? So wake up, Stiles." The boy aggressively hit his head with his hands, hoping to jar himself awake. "Wake up, Stiles." Clenching his hands around his head, Stiles squinted his eyes in frustration. "Wake up!"