Sometimes, Stiles can tell when he's dreaming. Sometimes, he can tell when he's having a nightmare. Sometimes he can even tell when he's reliving his past in his sleep. This knowledge does nothing for him, though, because he can never wake himself up.
He can tell he's having a nightmare when he looks at his hands and he realizes that he doesn't have ten fingers. And really, it just gets worse once he realizes he's not awake.
Usually his bad dreams are memories of his life in his old universe like burning Peter to a crisp so he wouldn't terrorize them anymore or Jackson running around and paralyzing everyone or that monster killing everyone he loved for fun.
It's usually that last one, but the other's like to make appearances.
Right now he's running. He's running and he has no idea why but his instincts – the ones that have saved him from death countless times – are screaming at him to run, to get away, to leave this place. NOW.
He's running so hard he can barely breathe and his entire body aches.
He feels keyed up beyond all reason and it scares him. It scares him more than anything in his new world has.
He's running, but he doesn't seem to make any progress out of the woods he's surrounded in. All he wants is to get out of here. To be safe. To find Scott or Derek or even Isaac.
He stumbles, but when he catches himself, he's not in the forest anymore. He's nowhere.
It's too bright and the light extends into what looks like forever. He looks down and his feet are surrounded in what looks like anemones around his feet, but no farther and a foot out or so.
He takes a step out, and the flowers and grass seem to spring to life out of nothingness to give his foot something to land on.
His instincts aren't telling him to leave, but he doesn't want to be here either.
He opens his mouth and yells. He yells for his mother and Scott. He yells for Derek. He yells for Isaac and Talia. He yells for help. He just yells in general but there's no answer.
He feels himself slipping into despair and as he falls to his knees, he realizes that the anemones are spreading around him.
He recalls the creature that had killed all of his friends telling him he'd be left alone.
Now he is.
He yells again, desperate for someone to find him.
Once his throat is hoarse, he forces himself to stand through his fatigue and he starts running. He runs as far as he can, but the anemones at his feet and the light beyond it follow him everywhere.
When he can't take anymore, he falls to his knees again and lets out a strangled, strained yell.
Stiles jerks awake and lays there, heart racing and covered in sweat.
When he's sure this isn't another dream, he presses the heels of his palms into his eyes and tries to control his breathing.
He glances at the clock on the room's nightstand that reads 2:16 a.m. in neon red numbers.
Too early to get up and do something then.
Especially with a rogue Alpha around town, killing people.
Stiles knows the only way he'll get to sleep is if he has another person next to him.
He throws the blankets off of himself and stands up. The brunet scrubs his hands over his face before making his way out of the room, his heart still beating a bit fast. He shuffles down the hall and lightly raps on Scott's door before peeking inside.
Inside, Scott and Isaac are tangled up in the bed in what looks like an increasingly uncomfortable position. Stiles wonders when and how that happened before sighing and making his way back towards 'his' room in the McCall house.
He stops short, just in front of the room Derek's staying in. Stiles wonders if it would be too forward to ask to sleep in the same room. In the same bed.
He walks up to the door and lightly knocks, whispering Derek's name. There's no response, so Stiles opens the door slightly, wincing when it creaks a bit, and stands awkwardly half inside the door.
"Derek are you awake?" He asks in a hushed tone.
There's no response again, so Stiles stands there awkwardly, debating on trying a third time.