Hey you guys! You are so amazing! *hugs* I have to admit I laughed when I read things like "I wish you wrote for TW, except not really because you torture Stiles…" and "you are Satan." SO MUCH LOVE. I know you guys are just trying to make me feel all the warmth!

Okay, so Cuppa Char: I have never heard "Feel Me," but I listened to it before writing this and it was PERFECT. Oh my gosh – so amazing! I listened to it a few times and it's so perfect. I wish I knew how to GIF things, because I would SO make a GIF collection for this story, potentially with those lyrics. THANK YOU for introducing me to this song!

Also, I was asked who I ship. To be honest, I don't really ship people together for the most part. I kinda like Teen Wolf in that it shows how teenagers can change from different relationships – sorta the 'Be Your Own Anchor' idea. But I like the idea of Lydia and Stiles, but I'm stuck between wanting them to be a BrOTP or an OTP. I think ScottxKira are pretty cute as well. But I'm not hardcore swung in any way, to be honest.

So, are you ready for the next round of confusion? So Stiles is awake… what does that mean? And as we all remember… Life is but a dream.

Chapter 9

Life is But a Dream

"Stiles, is everything okay?" Scott asks, but Stiles doesn't answer. "Do you need something?"

He's staring at the door. Stiles stands outside his house, the entire group of them a few feet behind him, unsure of what he's waiting for. His body is so still, but he's simply standing there.

Scott looks at the sheriff helplessly, but it goes unnoticed. Mr. Stilinski rushes to Stiles side, grabbing his medical bag and opening the door for him. Stiles blinks as if he just realized there were people around him for the first time and then gives his dad an easy smile. "I was wondering when someone was gonna help me," he jokes, his voice quaking only enough for a werewolf to notice. "I mean, out of everyone here, who has had life-threatening surgery in the past week? Only me? Then why am I carrying everything?"

His father laughs, his eyes glittering in a way Scott hadn't seen in a while.

But Scott wasn't so sure. He watches Stiles step into his house, but instead of the bull in a china shop way usually approached movement, he's careful. Calculated, even. Scott just can't shake the feeling.

Something's off.

"I think so too," Derek mutters, approaching Scott. Scott raises his eyebrow, pretending he hasn't a clue what he's referring to, but Derek only snorts. "Please, I can see your face. Something's not right with Stiles."

"Leave him alone," Lydia hisses, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "He's just had surgery on his brain. He's allowed a few off days."

"You don't believe that." Derek snaps, folding his arms across his chest. Everyone stands in front of the house, all afraid to approach it. "Let's remind ourselves what happened: Stiles was dead. Like cold and dead. Lydia, you even screamed."

Lydia's voice is soft and broken. "It could've been someone else."

"Someone else happened to die at that exact moment?" Derek scoffs.

"Dude," Scott snaps. "I understand you're trying to prove a point, but that's my best friend you're talking about. If you could do it a little nicer, I would appreciate it."

Derek exhales. His face scrunches like he's about to snap back, but then he relaxes. "You're right, sorry. I'm just trying to point out that Stiles' voice came over the intercom while he was dead. Something's not right."

"Hey!" The sheriff calls from the porch. "You guys staying for dinner?"

They all look at each other. Scott calls back, "Yeah, we'll be in there in a minute!"

Everyone stares at him incredulously.

"Derek's got a point," Scott insists. "And if something else is going on, we need to look after him."

"It's probably something we should be doing regardless." Isaac mutters with a shrug.

"Aww, would you look at that, Allison?" Lydia says, rubbing Isaac's arm. "Isaac's warming up to Stiles! Stiles just has the best boyfriends!" She says with a chuckle, grabbing Scott's arm.

She moves to Derek and he murmurs, "Touch me and lose that appendage."

Scott sighs. Some things don't change.

Then, Stiles looks at them through the window. It's strange, how his face is shadowed. It makes him look older. Look… gaunt. Scott tells himself it is the near-death experience, but there's a shadow. Something dark brewing behind those usual impish eyes. For a brief moment, they're back to normal. Stiles beams at them through the window and gives them all a wave, watching them as they enter the house. Then his smile falls.

Some things do change.

Mr. Stilinski's lumbers out of the kitchen, still grinning. "Alright kids, I hope you all know by 'being invited to dinner,' of course I mean that I am ordering a pizza. Stiles does all the cooking in this house and I'm not sure if the fair thing to do after he's been released from the hospital is to force him to make us all dinner."

Stiles smiles. "Again with the manual labor on the sick on. I see how it is, Pops."

"Would you kindly shut up?" Mr. Stilinski says. "I'm trying to talk to your friends." His grin falters a little. "Actually, I didn't mean shut up because at this point, I'm happy with you talking nonstop, but I really do—"

"I'm just messing with you, Dad." Stiles laughs. "But if you want to give me the clear to talk as much as I can, I'd be happy to oblige. I've been meaning to have a discussion with you that involves the amount of milk we keep in the house. I mean, I can go through that stuff in like, a day. So, I was thinking if we started buying two gallons of milk at a time, I can stop needlessly driving to the gas station, paying a premium on milk that I could get half price at the grocery store—"

The sheriff puts his hand up. "That's a great story, Stiles. But, pizza?"

Stiles puts his hands up. "First you tell me to shut up, then you tell me to talk, then you tell me to shut up again. Good God man, make up your mind."

Scott quietly observes his friend. By all accounts, this rambling train of thought and his puckish grin seemed normal. He shakes his head. Maybe he's projecting his own fears on Stiles. He needs to get a grip and appreciate the fact that his friend is even here and talking.

He can't, though.

He missed everything last time.

"Dude," Scott says, clapping Stiles on the shoulder. "How about while we're waiting for pizza to arrive, we finally watch Star Wars?"

Stiles' smile falters. He looks at Scott, confused, his eyes narrowing. "W-Why would we do that?" He asks.

Everyone looks at each other. Even Mr. Stilinski's grin falls a little bit as his fingers hesitate over the numbers on the phone. "Because Stiles," Scott says, nervously glancing at everyone around him. "You're always telling me that I need to watch it, but we have these supernatural problems that keep preventing me from ever sitting down and seeing it."

Stiles laughs. "O-Of course!" He says, his voice a little higher than it usually is. "I-I just meant why would you want to watch it because I assumed you'd watched it already because I told you to, like, a million times, but I guess that shows what kind of friend you really are."

A few people chuckle, but Scott only does so to try and ease the tension. It doesn't help that Derek looks like he's about to implode. "Yeah man, I'm the worst." Scott says. "But we can fix that now."

"I still can't believe it's been this long in your life and you haven't seen Star Wars," Stiles says. "Like, what would've happened if I actually died? You make the worst life choices. How are you ever going to survive without me? I mean, honestly. It's be like putting baby Bambi in the middle of the woods during hunting season."

"You got me there," Scott says with a half-smile. "I'm not sure what I would do without you."

He eyes Derek, who's still glaring at Stiles like something he did mortally offended him.

Dinner was as nice and lovely as it could've been, particularly with Derek not speaking for the majority of the time. The sheriff just seemed so relieved to have his son sitting at the table, cracking jokes and rolling his eyes, he didn't even notice the group make eyes with each other when Stiles didn't tell his dad that putting sausage and pepperoni on the pizza was a recipe for an early death. Or when he mentioned that he liked Isaac's scarf.

It bothered them so much, that when they all left they were distracted.

They didn't even notice the message written on the window from where Stiles was standing earlier, observing them as they entered his house.

HELP ME WAKE UP.

XXX

Everything's cold.

His body is paralyzed. He knows that his eyes aren't open and that he can't move his toes, but that's all. That's all he knows. His chest is heaving. Open your eyes, he tells himself, but it doesn't work. It feels like his insides are on fire. Everything is buzzing, like his ribcage is a beehive. Open your eyes. Open them. Open them.

They snap open.

Stiles sits straight up, every breath tighter and more difficult to manage. He tries to grasp something tangible – anything – but all he gets are a handful of leaves. He brings them closer to his face, as if that would make everything make sense, but instead it just makes his hands and face dirty.

He whips his head around, his chest heavy and mind racing, tears dotting his eyes. "W-Where am I?" He calls out, but there is no answer.

Shakily getting to his feet, Stiles tries to wipe his hands off on what he'd imagine his shirt would be, but feels the coldness of his skin. He looks down, noticing all he's in is the pair of pajama bottoms he put on the night before. That's all he remembers.

He's in the middle of the woods.

"H-Hello?" Stiles calls out, a part of him wondering if someone would appear. Nobody does. "I-If this is a prank, v-very funny. Way to harass the kid who's been in the hospital for the past few days. Great life choices, there. Time to take me home now."

But no one laughs. No one comes.

Stiles moves to leave, but winces when he does so. His feet are covered in blood, cuts lining the base of them.

He did this.

The question isn't 'Real or not real' any longer, but: what have I missed? Or, something for more terrifying:

What have I done?

It takes Stiles a great deal of effort to stumble out of the woods, the cold pavement of the road a welcome change when he reaches the highway. He clutches himself, the coldness finally getting to him. Even the tips of his fingers are blue. He looks at them, counting them quickly to make sure there were ten, but then something distracts him. There's something under his fingernails… is it—

Blood?

Stiles closes his eyes. He tells himself it's because of his feet. Or he scratched himself in this mindless trip into the woods. He clutches himself tighter. "Nothing happened," he tells himself. "You just went on a walk in the woods. In… the middle of the night. That's normal, right? People take walks in the middle of the night all the time. This is totally normal."

A car skids to a halt behind him, the driver pulling off to the side of the road. For a brief moment, Stiles is thrilled. Walking a mile longer to his house isn't ideal, but when the person jumps out of their car and rushes over, Stiles groans.

"Stiles!"

Stiles winces as Allison sprint over to him, her eyes wide. She stops before him, her hands reaching out like she wants to hold him or grab his hands, but she doesn't. Stiles looks at her awkwardly. "This… isn't want it looks like." He mutters.

"I don't even know what it looks like," Allison breathes, her eyes taking in all of Stiles.

"Well, I'd imagine it looks like me walking on the highway, half naked without shoes on."

"Isn't that exactly what's going on?"

"Yes, but I know you are going to think this is a crazy thing." Stiles says. "I'm not crazy."

Allison's expression grows soft. "I never said you were, Stiles."

"You didn't with words, at least."

Allison sighs. She finally reaches the rest of the way, grabbing his shoulder. "Come on, let's go get you cleaned up. I'll drive you home—"

"No!" Stiles shouts, making Allison jump. "Oh, sorry. I just mean, I don't want to upset my Dad. He's so happy that I'm home and I can only imagine how much I stressed him out, so I think I'd prefer to just not run the risk of walking through the door looking like this and him seeing."

"Wouldn't he be freaking out you're not in bed?"

Stiles frowns. "I hadn't thought of that. I'll just tell him I went to Scott's early to get caught up on homework stuff."

"Stiles—"

"I already put him through so much, I don't want to add more."

He says this with such conviction, Allison concedes. "Fine, we'll go to my place. I think I have a few of Scott's old things from when we were going out that you can use."

Stiles gives her a reproachful look, but can't find any reason to think that she's lying. Besides, his feet hurt like hell and he's tired of walking. "I'm gonna bleed all over your car."

"Please," Allison snorts. "I'm surprised it's taken this long to get blood on the upholstery."

Stiles grins, but remains quiet the entire ride. It's not like he didn't like Allison, he just wasn't sure how to talk to her. They only really met because of Scott. The majority of their interactions were strictly supernatural-based or Scott-based. He wasn't sure of how to behave when it was Stiles-based.

So when the air got thick and his leg started bouncing up and down from nervousness, he couldn't stop himself when he blurted out, "Please don't tell Scott."

Allison stares at him.

"Sorry," Stiles winces. "I didn't mean to yell that. It's just, I don't want to freak him out."

"Stiles, he needs to know if you're wandering around in the woods in your sleep."

Stiles shrugs. "So what? Some people sleep walk. That's a thing. I've read about it."

"I'm sure you have," Allison laughs. "But he needs to know, Stiles. I don't feel comfortable keeping this from him. But it shouldn't even come from me. You need to tell him."

Stiles leans his head against her window. "Yeah, I know," he sighs. "I just thought this would be over once I died, you know?"

"You didn't die, Stiles. You're right here."

Stiles laughs hollowly. "Please. I read my chart. It said that the power outage lasted thirteen minutes. They said compression would've only kept me alive for four. So, that means for nine minutes I was technically dead. Dead, Allison. Like, not living."

Allison grips the steering wheel. "I know what dead means, Stiles."

"Yeah, well," Stiles sighs. "Which means in the past month, I have died like, three times. Two intentionally, one not. That's a lot of times to die, Allison. I'm not a fucking cat. One of these times, it's gonna stick. I'm gonna die die. And when that happens, maybe it'll be for the best."

"You don't mean that."

Stiles shrugs. "I'm not sure what I mean anymore. I haven't for a while."

Allison has no response to that. It's strange how a person can take up so much space and be so small at the same time. She looks at him and he's grown into himself – he's filled out, grown a few inches, put on some muscle. He's at a place where she'd even put him under the category of 'hot' under non-supernatural darkness circumstances. But at the same time, it feels like there's something lost. That he's shrinking. She doesn't even know where to start fixing that.

We protect those who cannot protect themselves.

Allison is certain Stiles falls under that category.

One hand on the steering wheel, Allison uses her free hand to grab his. She gives it a gentle squeeze, keeping her eyes on the road – something she's thankful for. She doesn't want him to see that they're filled with tears. "I never properly thanked you." She says. "For closing my door. I know we don't know each other that well, but I can't begin to say how touched I am by that. You saved my life. And now I'm going to do everything in my power to save yours."

Stiles snorted. "I feel like you got the raw end of the deal. At least I knew how to save you. I can't even begin to think of how you all are going to save me."

"We'll find a way."

"You know, we've been doing this supernatural stuff a long time now, Allison." Stiles says hauntingly. "There was bound to be a time when we just couldn't figure it out."

The arrive at Allison's house. Allison doesn't have a response to that, because she knows empty words won't help. She'll comfort him when she has a plan. After all, it is in her blood to protect.

Instead, the rest of the morning is filled with the sound of gentle rushing water instead of empty comforts, the two of them waiting until the blood-red water turned clear.

XXX

"Dude, is that my shirt?"

Stiles looks down – of course that would be the first thing Scott noticed. Stiles frowns. "Uh, yeah. I didn't realize I was wearing your clothes until I got here."

"I've been looking for that for months!" Scott complains. "Why are your hoarding my clothes?"

Stiles makes a face. "How did we get from me wearing your shirt to me potentially being on an episode of 'Hoarders?'"

Stiles nods hello to everyone at the table, groaning at the gentle nudge in the ribs from Allison. She sets her lunch tray down and looks at him expectantly. "Yeah, alright," Stiles mutters, sitting down. "Scott, can we talk later tonight? There's something I need to tell you."

"Does it have to be tonight?" Scot asks. He throws a small grin at Kira, who blushes and becomes very interested in her sandwich. "Kira and I kinda have plans."

Stiles looks at Kira as if he's just noticing her. He can't help it. It's like someone switched something on in his brain. "Can I come?" He asks before he can stop himself.

Everyone stares.

Isaac snorts into his food. "Can you say three-way?" He mutters under his breath. Allison kicks him.

But Stiles barely notices any of that. "Please? I really got to talk to you, Scott."

"It's that important?" Scott asks. "Is it okay if Kira's there?"

Stiles smiles. "It's great that Kira's there." He states, grinning into his food.

He's not sure why, but he has a feeling. It will be great.

A/N: There it is! I hope you guys are liking this sort of 'Part 2' aspect of the story. Please let me know what you think!

(P.S. So excited/Freaking out with what they're doing with Stiles on the show! It's such a conflicting emotion… lol!)