"That can't be a coincidence," Derek muttered.

"No, I don't think so. It's ridiculous that's what it is." Stiles ruffled a hand through his hair. "The sandman? No, dude. That's way too bizarre an idea. I thought I was totally done when Jackson was a lizard but now—now I'm so done not even Jesus could convince me not to be done."

"Well it's not the "sandman" like you know it. It's a sleep spirit." Derek sat down at Stiles' computer and opened Google. He typed in a name: Morpheus. "Morpheus is the Greek God of Sleep and he's the leader of a set of spirits called the Oneiroi who take human form and deliver dreams to mortals. Mostly prophetic dreams, but sometimes nightmares. It depends on where they come from."

Stiles took a breath. "So what about the deaths? The eyes?"

"You said yourself there were legends of an evil sandman that took children's eyes. I read the same thing—evil spirits that took the human soul though the eyes, consequently taking the eyes with them."

Stiles sat on his bed. "Why is it invisible then? Why now? What about Scott?"

Derek blew out a breath. "I don't know."

"It's got to have something to do with this professor," Stiles said after a tense moment. "Whatever he was doing in the forest."

Derek blinked. "We have to look for Isaac."

Stiles threw a sweater over his Batman tee and then pulled on a jacket. "We're taking my car."

"I was in your car. It's a wreck waiting to happen."

Stiles whipped around just before they were about to descend the stairs. "Don't insult my baby."

"Or wha—did you just flick my forehead?" Derek rubbed the center of his forehead.

Stiles raised a brow.

"Okay, sorry…"

"Good." Stiles trampled down the stairs…and then stopped.

Derek nearly smacked into his back. "Why are you—oh."

Stiles swallowed. His father was on the couch fast asleep. There was a light blue sheen under his eyes. Tentatively, he strode over and put a hand on his father's arm. "Dad. Dad." He gave him a little shake. Swallowing again, he glanced back at Derek.

Derek shook his head. "There's no time."

"Derek, this is my dad."

"He'll be fine. You said so yourself."

Stiles let out a shaky breath. "I wasn't sure okay. I mean, logically…but…what if?"

Derek sighed and pulled out his phone. He dialed Dr. Deaton's number again.

"Did it work?"

"Yes it did. He's awake. But his father isn't."

A short pause on the other side. "Same thing as Stiles?"

"Yes. But we have to continue looking for Isaac. We think whatever monster is causing this is out there in the forest. Just…will he die if we leave him?"

"I don't think so. Look, Derek, the smart thing to do is to look for whatever is causing this and destroy it. I believe that the magical properties in the blue secretion are directly connected with the monster. If you kill it, it may reverse the symptoms completely. And it may restore your wolves."

Derek let out a breath. "Thank you."

"And—wait. Derek."

Derek put the phone back to his ear. "What?"

"You may have washed out the substance from his eyes, but it has entered his system. It's likely he may relapse."

Derek clenched his jaw. "Okay." He hung up. "Your father is going to be fine if we find the thing and kill it."

Stiles nodded, a relieved sigh escaping his lips. Even so, it took Derek gently nudging him to get him to leave. When they were finally in his Jeep and bumping along the empty roads—straight through the green lights—Stiles decided to speak again.

"Are you still living in that subway cart thing?"

Derek's eyebrows shot straight up. "Um, yeah?"

Stiles shook his head. "The Argents stopped hunting, you know."

"There are still hunters."

"Around here?"

"…Not that I know of."

Stiles pursed his lips. "So what's the problem? You can't get an apartment or something?"

Derek looked uncomfortable. Stiles waved his hand impatiently. "I don't know."

"You don't know if you can get an apartment?"

"My sister always took care of things. I never…"

Then it clicked. "You don't know how to get your own apartment?"

Derek was seriously uncomfortable.

Stiles glanced at him incredulously. "How old are you?"

"Not that old okay?" Derek squirmed in his seat.

"What the hell have you been doing? How do you shower? Where do you keep your clothes? What do you eat? What do you do?" Stiles gave him another once-over. "You're always so…" Immaculate? Flawless? Lickable? "… You—" Stiles waved his hands again. "Seriously how does that happen?"

Derek bit his lip. "There's a working bathroom in the station."

"You need to get yourself an apartment. Or fix your house." He made a sharp turn and the Jeep bumped onto the rough forest terrain. They sped through the trees until they saw the Hale house. It was still dark and gloomy, but the pale gold morning light broke through the thick wall of grey fog and added a slight glimmer to the charred rooftops. Stiles killed the engine and chewed his lip.

"I doubt anyone my age has any idea how to fix a house."

Stiles snorted. "You probably have a point there. But then again some people your age have degrees."

Derek raised his brows. "What makes you think I don't have a degree?"

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "Two-year or four-year?"

Derek pursed his lips. "Two."

"In what?"

He shifted uncomfortably again. "Art history."

Stiles burst out with a wild cackle.

"Shut up…"

Stiles continued chuckling even as he followed Derek out the car. "Dude, seriously? What were planning on doing with that?"

Derek's shoulders tensed. "I…really liked going to the Guggenheim."

Stiles' laughs subsided into a genial smile. "And you wanted to be a curator or something?"

"No. I just liked art. But I just got my Associates. Laura kept telling me I couldn't do anything with it so I decided to major in something else for my Bachelor's."

"But you didn't get a Bachelor's."

"I decided to work for a year. It turned into two years and then…all this shit happened."

Stiles nodded along as they navigated the woods, being extra vigilante for invisible creatures or some other craziness. "And what did you do? Work, I mean."

Derek shrugged. "I waited tables."

Stiles grinned at them and nudged Derek's shoulder. "Oh yeah?"

"What are you smiling about?"

"I bet you got tons of tips, right?"

"Um, I guess?"

Stiles' grin grew wider. "Pretty popular?"

"I guess so. I did well."

"I bet you did."

Derek stopped right next to a tree and whipped around to face him. "What are you implying?" And dang he almost couldn't be annoyed because Stiles' smile was actually pretty…nice. Just nice. Despite the mischievousness. Not endearing whatsoever. But Derek had practiced the perfect frown so none of his little heart jumps showed on his face.

Stiles just looked Derek up and down really, really slowly and licked his lips.

"No." He shook his head. "I earned those tips."

"You sure did."

Heat rose on his neck. He struggled for a second but then he cracked a half-smile. "So you think I'm hot?"

Stiles' brows shot up and he grinned. "You know you're hot."

Derek tossed his head from side to side in mock consideration. He turned and started walking again down the slope. Stiles jumped to follow, sliding on the leaves as he trotted down.

"So how many times did someone slip you their number?"

Derek gave him a quizzical look. "Why don't we talk about you for once?"

Stiles shrugged. "I don't even have a romantic life to talk about. I was in love with the same girl since the third grade and she never gave me the time of day."

"And what about now?"

Stiles hesitated for a second. He glanced away into the misty trees. "She's with Jackson. I get it. We're sort of friends and I'm cool with that."

"…You're not bad looking. Just so you know."

Stiles looked shocked. "What?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "I can see someone being attracted to you. I mean…Erica had a crush on you."

"Okay but what's attractive about me?"

Derek bit his lip and tried not to smile. "You've got a cute face," he said as sarcastically as he could…which actually didn't sound very sarcastic.

Stiles just groaned. "I don't want to be cute."

They were nearing the river. Both of them could hear the faint rush of water.

"Your face is cute. You've got those doe eyes. People like that sort of thing."

"Oh yeah that really screams sexy—" All the wind was knocked out of him as Derek shoved him into a tree and put a hand over his mouth. Stiles just rolled his eyes with a muffled little groan. Derek wasn't looking at him and Stiles could tell that all of his senses were on high alert. Something was behind them again. Stiles patted Derek's arm. He let go.

"Same?" he mouthed.

Derek nodded. He put a finger to his lips and pulled him around the tree. He glanced in the thick fog but saw nothing. After a second he blew out a breath. "It's gone. But it wasn't coming this way like last time. It was…walking…that way." He pointed north.

"Up the river."

They looked at each other and then started again through the woods. They reached the river within the next minute and stopped at the water's edge. There was something odd.

"It wasn't like this before…" Derek crouched down and reached out a hand.

Stiles grabbed his arm. "Don't touch it. Look." He pointed to the rocks at the edge just under the surface. "It's blue." And when they glanced back up at the whole river, they saw it then. There was a strange blue mist hovering over the water. Derek pushed Stiles back.

"Come on," Derek insisted. He gripped his wrist and started tugging him a good distance away from the river before moving north.

They moved through the trees as quickly and silently as they could.

"It's much stronger now," Derek said after about a good half hour of walking.

"What is?"

"The nothing smell."

"That makes no sense."

"Everything has a scent, Stiles. Even you. The fact that the stuff has no smell is like having a blank part in your vision. It's strong enough now that I can actually track it because it has no smell. It's the blank part in the smell of the forest. And the fact that it's stronger means that were getting close."

"Close to what?" Stiles breathed, not expecting an answer.

They stayed in silence for several more minutes, and then Derek halted. He scanned the air, turned on the spot, and then scanned some more.

"Share with the class?"

"Remember, awhile ago, how I told you I felt something weird in the air?"

"Sure?"

"This is it."

"I don't feel anything."

"You wouldn't. Come on." He tugged him in a different direction this time—closer to the river. They walked until Stiles could definitely hear it, loud and thunderous in this part. At that point the fog dispersed and they had a clear view of roaring waters and black, jutting rocks that scattered spray into the air. The trees were thick in this part, the ground was moist, and they could see tiny green tendrils poking from the earth where the brown, curling leaves did not cover. The grey trunks shot into the air, branches looking at least a mile above their heads. "There's not enough sun or warmth for anything green," was all Derek said.

"Does that look strange to you?" Stiles asked pointing to a tree a few paces ahead.

Derek followed his finger. "Oh." He tugged Stiles forward until they were at the tree. There were four neat slashes along the bark. He put a hand to the marks. "It's Isaac."

"Some kind of message?"

"Yeah. It means he's been here."

"Helpful."

Derek gave him a look. "It actually is. It means that we've followed the right path. It also means that he wasn't sure he'd make it back, so he left a path for us to find him just in case."

"Oh, so a warning then. Perfect."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Come on."

He grabbed Stiles' wrist again and pulled him through the trees. The more they walked, the clearer the air became. It was several minutes of pained searching before they found the next mark. After the third one, the marks were easier to find. They were generally headed in the direction of the river—but also kept heading north until the waters were calmer and the ground flatter. They'd reached the top of a plateau at that point and the trees were thicker and the world around them was definitely and strangely greener. Moss grew at the bottoms of grey trunks and grass was thick on the edges of the river. Stiles found it oddly beautiful, but Derek was tense and shiftier than usual.

"The weird feeling…it's like the world is trying to crush in on itself here. It feels like…like…" Derek visibly struggled to articulate what he was feeling. His hands clenched and his jaw set. "Like something was removed? Or tipped off balance? I just…there's a disorder."

"Like if one tile in a pattern of tiles is wrong?"

Derek's eyes widened. "Yes."

Stiles nodded sagely. "It messes up the whole thing."

They kept walking along the river, which grew wider and darker with each passing step. The earth kept getting greener until they could see thick leafy branches ahead, casting a dark gloom without the sun to send its rays down—because the sky was still foggy and grey and despite looking the opposite, it was still freezing. The river turned as they neared the mass of growth; it started to head northwest. And when the pair traveled underneath the branches, it started to look more like a tunnel over the river than anything else.

"I didn't even know this place existed?" Stiles wondered aloud.

Derek twitched his neck. "I'm…not sure it does."

It was dark under the heavy branches. The only sounds were the soft noises of the water trickling downstream and the gentle sigh of the leaves in the cold wind. They saw one more mark along a lush brown tree before they saw a glimmer of light at the end of this tunnel. It wasn't light so much as it wasn't dark like the tunnel they walked under. It was gloomy grey and misty just like the forest at least an hour's walk behind them. As they neared, they first saw a large wall of smooth stone where the trees ended. The river reflected little waves along its surface as it curved away from them.

They hadn't reached the end of the tunnel when Derek suddenly grew very still, his hand gripping Stiles' fiercely. "There it is," he whispered. "I can hear it."

"The thing?"

"The thing."

"Where?"

He glanced toward the wall of stone that curved with the river to some path that couldn't be seen behind the trees.

"It's—" Derek's eyes flashed red in a moment of panic. He yelled, "Stiles!" and then he disappeared.