Sorry, I got a bit motivated… :3

OoooO

Allison drove.

Scott ran.

He ran as fast as he could with reckless abandon; he didn't care if anyone saw him as he jumped fences and was a blur down the middle of the street. All that mattered was that he got to the Stilinski household as quickly as possible. As a result, he beat her by over a minute.

The front door was wide open, so he didn't bother announcing his presence. In an impressive feat of agility, the alpha leapt the entire set of stairs. He landed in the upstairs hallway less than a foot from the sheriff.

"Stiles-!" he began, but the sheriff put a finger to his lips to quiet him.

"He's in here."

The sheriff was leaning against the doorframe and staring into Stiles' room. Scott slowly peered around the corner, following his gaze… There, curled up in the farthest corner of his bed, was Stiles. "He's… he's really here," Scott breathed out.

There was a rustling downstairs, followed by the soft sound of Allison's footsteps as she ascended the stairs. "Scott," she whispered, gently jogging towards them.

"He just… passed out," Stilinski reported. "He just… fell asleep in my arms. I brought him here and haven't taken my eyes off of him since."

"What happened?" Scott asked, also keeping his eyes on Stiles. The other teen's expression seemed strained – as if he were having a nightmare. Other than that, he was still.

"I was in the kitchen when I heard the door open and…" he paused and gestured towards his son. "There he was."

"So, he came back to us," Allison said hopefully. However, the sheriff's face said otherwise.

"He…" He paused again to run a hand over his face. "He said that he wasn't here to stay – that going with that monster was the right thing to do – that it was the only way to save us…"

"Then why did he come here?" Allison wondered quietly. Stilinski's expression fell even more and Scott knew the answer.

"Drugs," he stated.

The sheriff nodded. "He said it over and over…"

"Hey," Scott said, gripping the man's arm tightly. "He's here, now. He came to us… finally."

"It's true," Allison said. "This was a moment of weakness and he didn't run away… Did he use his power at all?" she asked, but quickly slapped her hands over her mouth. The sheriff narrowed his eyes at her.

"Power? What power?" He looked between the two teens before him suspiciously. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Sheriff," Scott said sharply. He glanced at Allison.

"I'll… go call the others," she blurted out, catching on to what Scott was hinting. She quickly moved away and went back downstairs where she began her calls. Scott registered that the first message was for Lydia before he turned back to Stiles' father.

"There's something you should know about Stiles."

OoooO

Lydia listened to the message two more times… just to be sure that her ears weren't playing tricks on her again. Nope, it was the same message the third time around: Stiles had returned and was safely under guard at his home with Scott, Allison, and the sheriff. The banshee couldn't help the weightlessness that followed the revelation.

"Stiles is alive," she whispered to herself. "He's home… and he's alive… I knew it." She hadn't failed her friends after all.

No longer so heavily burdened by her shame, Lydia slipped on her wedges and marched out her front door.

OoooO

"So… you're saying that Stiles developed some sort of special powers? From my wife?" the sheriff asked. Scott could tell that he was trying his damndest to understand. In Stilinski's defense, it may have been the most farfetched thing Scott had ever told him.

"That's… more or less it," Scott replied. "I know it sounds crazy, but-"

"Claudia was sick," the sheriff interrupted. "She… she was delusional…"

"She was-"

"-gifted."

Both men turned to see Lydia slowly approaching them. Scott couldn't help but stare in disbelief; Lydia had secluded herself for the past week or so… seeing her both caught him off guard and made him feel a sense of relief. "Lydia."

"Or cursed," she continued nervously. "Either way, I know how it feels – to do things people think are impossible… to sound crazy…"

"But, her dementia," the sheriff protested.

"That's what Deaton was saying… how death might've made it manifest," Scott explained.

"Well," Stilinski sighed as he finally caved to the idea, "he didn't do anything like that earlier."

"That's good," Scott said with a nod. "That means he's not threatened by you… at least, not yet." The sheriff gave him a confused look and the alpha sighed. "He might not wake up so compliant."

As if on cue, a mumble from within Stiles' room caught everyone's attention. Slowly, the tiny figure that belonged to Stiles stirred. Another moan… and Stiles eventually sat upright. His eyes met Scott's; they were haunted, filled with misery, further accented by his gaunt face. The just stared at each other for a moment. "…Stiles?"

He moved more quickly than anyone could have anticipated. "Stiles!" the sheriff shouted as he rushed in with the others. Stiles made a move for the window, but Scott's strong arms reached him in time and jerked him back. He had no idea what Stiles thought he could do once he had reached the window… and he didn't want to know. He had a thrashing Stiles in his arms to worry about.

"Let me go!" the sickly teen shouted as he tried to free himself.

"Stiles, calm down!" the alpha growled. He couldn't stop his eyes from glowing a deep red.

It didn't go unnoticed.

"I said let go!"

By the way the sheriff's and Lydia's expressions had changed, Scott knew what was coming. "Get back!" He growled as loudly as possible. Just in time, too.

The air cracked around them as the wood of Stiles' desk and bookshelves splintered. Random objects were hurtled about in a torrent of kinetic madness. In an attempt to protect Stiles from the splinters of wood, glass, and whatever else got tossed about, Scott used his body as best as he could to shield him. Growls of pain escaped him as various bits of broken matter lodged themselves in his back. "Stiles!" he shouted. "Stiles, please!" The torrent only increased. Seeing no other alternative, the alpha let out a ferocious roar.

If the sight before had caused unease, what followed was downright eerie; everything, including the objects in mid-air, came to a standstill.

"S… Scott…" came Stiles' strangled whisper.

Suddenly, everything fell to the floor around them. A book or two and something else unpleasant bounced off of Scott's battered back, but he withheld the whimpers of pain. "Stiles?"

"Scott," his best friend said again as he peered out from under his hood. For a moment, a touch of clarity rang in his voice. Scott's eyes widened at the sight of blood dripping down from both of Stiles' nostrils. He made a strange choking sound before his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

"Stiles!" the alpha shouted. Sheriff Stilinski, Lydia, and Allison all rushed in as Stiles convulsed violently on the floor.

"Don't hold him down!" Allison instructed when Lydia reached for him "Clear the glass away so that he doesn't cut himself. Scott, back away and let me look at your back."

No one argued with her. Lydia and Stilinski worked quickly to clear the area around Stiles while Allison removed the shrapnel from the werewolf's back. Finally, Stiles gave a final cry and fell still, his chest heaving.

"Stiles," the sheriff whispered as he knelt down by his son. He used the sleeve of his shirt in an attempt to wipe the blood from the teen's face. "Son," he cooed, fighting back tears. Stiles' eyes flicked in his direction before closing. "No, no, Stiles, stay awake…" He lifted his son up so that he shoulder rested against the sheriff's torso. "Please, stay awake…"

"D… Dad," the boy wheezed.

"Stiles! Are you okay!? What… what happened!?"

Sties' lips just quivered. "Please," he barely got out before a sob wracked his shoulders. "Please, let me go… I can't… I can't protect you here…"

"We're here to protect you, now," Scott said as he stepped away from Allison.

"I can't protect you here," Stiles only repeated. "I can't… I can't protect… anyone…"

OoooO

Lydia sat quietly by Stiles' side. He had been carried to the sheriff's room to rest and Lydia had taken up watch duty. Stiles acted as if he could barely keep his head up and his eyes open, so Lydia insisted that she wasn't in danger of his strange… abilities. Besides that, Scott had told her what to look for were she to sense something about to happen.

Stiles just sat on the bed, his legs crossed and eyes forward, staring at nothing. His hood was drawn up over his head, but it did little to hide his sickly appearance… or the bite marks on his chest.

"…Stiles," Lydia finally said. He didn't respond, but Lydia could see the slight tremble in his frame. "I-"

"Keeping me here is a mistake," he said hoarsely. Lydia tried searching his face for an emotion of some sort, but found none. There wasn't anything hinting towards a sudden, psychotic break, so Lydia spoke candidly.

"We're keeping you here to protect you, Stiles…"

"From who," he asked, his gaze slowly shifting towards her, "the monster? Or myself?"

Lydia pursed her lips. "Both, I suppose."

Stiles let out a single dry cough. "What, am I on Intervention now?"

"Do you need to be, Stiles?" Lydia asked quietly.

Silence fell between them for a moment. It was Stiles who broke it with an equally broken voice. "…you know."

It hurt the banshee to see him like this, but there was nothing she could do. Not yet, anyways. The others were downstairs trying to figure out what the next step was… and, in her opinion, they were taking too long. Stiles was getting more and more fidgety by the second, his eyes more frantic… "Everyone knows, Stiles…" Lydia stated.

"Great," he said through his teeth. He began chewing on his lip. "I did what I had to do… I had to protect you… to protect everyone…"

"So you thought that… that running off with some mystery monster and… and popping pills was the way to do it!?" Lydia blurted out. Stiles stared at her incredulously.

"Gee. Thanks. Next time a spooky beast from beyond threatens to kill my friends and family if I refuse to join the dark side, I'll 'just say no'."

"You could have said something… to your dad, to Scott… to me!" the young woman protested.

"You wouldn't know," Stiles whispered.

"Then tell me, Stiles!" Lydia pled. "Tell anyone!"

The sickly teen clutched at his chest as a pained expression came over his features. "Because dragging this out and turning it into a bloodbath… was the better option?" he asked, slightly out of breath. Sweat formed on his brow.

"Stiles," Lydia said, standing.

"Sue me for making an executive decision to try and keep my friends alive. Next time, I'll just give the monster your address and say 'bon appetite'," he forced out, followed by a wince.

Lydia put a hand on his shoulder. "Stiles, what's wrong!?"

"I…" he began, gripping her arm. "I'm gonna be sick."

"Oh, gross," she couldn't help but say. "C'mon!"

Utilizing the grip he already had on her, Lydia directed Stiles to the master bedroom's tiny bathroom. He was barely over the toilet when he wretched up water and stomach bile. There was a tiny pause before his breath quickened and he heaved up the nothingness in his stomach a second time. As much as she hated to witness it, Lydia was glad she managed to spot the blood on Stiles' lips. "SCOTT!" she shouted, the alarm in her voice ringing through the house.

She reached out to Stiles again, but he jerked away. "Don't touch me!" he growled. Then, as if he suddenly realized where he was, he tore open the cabinet beneath the sink and began searching through it vehemently.

"Stiles, no!" Lydia shouted, trying to stop him.

"Stop it, please! Just let me find something, please!" Stiles cried out. Scott appeared behind them a split second later.

"Stiles, what are you doing!?" he growled, but he had a guess.

"Stop, please, just stop!" Stiles said as Scott grabbed a hold on his best friend's wrists. Suddenly, Stiles' breath quickened and me made a motion for the toilet; Scott released him and watched as Stiles threw up bile… and blood. "Puh… please," Stiles wheezed. "I can stop it… I can… I just… need something…" Scott touched his shoulder and he jerked away violently. However, something changed in Stiles and he stared at the alpha with an odd, wide-eyed expression. "Scott… Scott, stay away."

The alpha's eyes darkened. "Stiles, just let me help," he said.

"NO!" his best friend shouted. "Scott, it'll poison you! It'll poison you… Please, don't take my pain… don't let it poison you… Gnn!" Once again, he dry-heaved into the toilet.

"What's wrong with him!?" the sheriff shouted as he saw blood trickling from the corners of Stiles' mouth. At that point, Stiles stood and made for the doorway. Several people stood in his way.

"Call my mom!" Scott ordered someone, anyone. "Call her and tell her what's wrong… that we need her help… NOW!" He attempted to grab Stiles again.

"NO!"

The walls around them began to shake and the mirror cracked. However, this surge of energy was short lived, ending as soon as Stiles collapsed into another fit on the floor. "Stiles!" Lydia screamed. "Somebody do something!"

"Your mom's on her way," Allison said over everyone's heads.

"Hurry," Scott breathed as he tried to avoid Stiles' thrashing body.

"There… there must be something you can do," the sheriff whispered in a broken voice. He knelt down by his son. "Stiles, please…"

Stiles seemed to overcome his fit, but his health was far worse off. His breaths came in great heaves and he choked on the blood in his mouth. Whenever his father or the others attempted to touch him, he batted their hands away. "No…" he whispered, his voice raw from the dry heaves. "No…"

There wasn't much pause before he lurched towards the toilet and dry heaved once again. "Come on, Stiles," Scott said, his voice breaking. "Please, let us help you…"

Stiles slowly pushed himself upright, clearly exhausted from the day's events. "Let… me… leave!" he tried again to lunge past the people before him. It was pointless, but he struggled. He mumbled more about how they were making a mistake, that they needed to let him return or Daliah – whom they recalled was the name of the monster – would tear them to pieces, but they refused to let him pass. His screams and pleas pierced the air, wounding the hearts of everyone.

"Let me through!" said a new voice. Out of the blue, Melissa McCall appeared behind them.

Scott's heart skipped a beat. "Mom!"

"Bring him out here!" she demanded. Scott noticed that she had a medical kit with her and was readying a needle. "Quick, hold him on the bed." Scott and Stiles' father wrestled the boy out of the bathroom and onto the bed. "Take off his hoodie, if you can."

"NO! No, please!" Stiles protested, but no one listened. With a quick hand, Lydia yanked the zipper down… and gasps filled the air.

Fully revealed were the several bite marks covering Stiles' torso. However, Melissa only paused for a breadth of a second before stabbing the needle into Stiles' shoulder and injecting an unknown liquid into his body. There were a few more moments of struggle before he slowed down… more and more… until a haze overcame him and he stared vacantly into the distance. "…clean him up," Melissa ordered. "Put him in the bed, under the covers… s-so that he stays warm." Her voice cracked and she covered her mouth. Clearly, she was fighting back tears.

The sheriff approached her and she looked up at him apologetically. He looked between her and his son. "What…"

"Withdrawals," she whispered. "The must've been worse because of the supernatural nature of the cause…" She hugged herself tightly. "In any case, you can't let people going through withdrawals do it without medical supervision… I wish I would've known sooner."

"It was my fault," the sheriff chastised himself. "I should have called you. I should have…" He ran a hand over his face as despair ran through him. There was a moment of silence before Melissa gently grabbed the sheriff's hand.

"It's not your fault," she said as gently as she could. When the sheriff didn't respond, she placed a hand on his face. "I mean it… it's not your fault." This got her a small, sad smile. She'd take it. "Now…" she said, stepping past him and back to the bedside. Stiles was still completely out of it. "We need to leave… he can't recover with everyone hovering over him like this… I can stay, keep an eye on him for a while… The first few fits are the worst, so I should be here in case something goes… goes wrong."

"I'm watching with you," Sheriff Stilinski stated.

Melissa McCall shook her head. "Nuh-uh, you are going downstairs to your comfortable couch to sleep. You need rest…" She spared at glance at Stiles. "I'll keep an eye on him. The moment he comes to, I'll wake you."

The sheriff looked like he wanted to protest, but knew that it was pointless. "…alright."

"Scott? Allison? Lydia? The same goes for you… You need to rest. Go home and catch up on some sleep."

The three teens stared at her like she was nuts. "Mom," Scott said quietly. He didn't need to explain further. Melissa sighed.

"Or… find a place downstairs to sleep," she bargained.

"There's a guest room here," Scott said, motioning to Allison and Lydia. "You guys should take it. I'll stay close to the sheriff." The girls nodded and slowly walked away. Scott walked over to his mother and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "…thanks, Mom…" Melissa smiled up at him.

"Go get some sleep. I'll be right here."

OoooO

"What do you mean, 'He's resting'… Shouldn't we be preparing for attack!?"

As much as he hated Peter and almost everything that came out of his mouth, Derek knew that he was right. With Stiles' absence, the body count had stopped completely. Now that he was back and – according to Scott's message – not in the best of health, the maagrim was most definitely going to come looking for him. They were wasting time fawning over Stiles instead of preparing for the inevitable.

Daliah was going to come for her pet… and it wasn't going to be pretty.

"Scott just got his friend back," Derek breathed out. "You know how… 'white knight' he likes to be… I'm sure he's well aware of the dangers of keeping Stiles there."

"Could you at least call him? Please," Peter said sourly. "For my peace of mind."

OoooO

"…Melissa?"

His voice was barely above a whisper, but she heard it. Melissa McCall looked up to see Stiles' eyes fluttering open. They were bleary and unfocused, but the wild look he'd had earlier was gone. "Welcome back," she said with a smile.

The teen looked around in confusion for a moment, as if he was trying to determine whether or not he was still asleep or not. He attempted to sit up. "Wha…"

"Shh, shh, shh, not too fast," the nurse said as she appeared at his side. She carefully helped him sit up, propping him against a couple pillows. He gave her a weak smile of gratitude. "There you go."

"…I…" He stopped, unable to form the proper words.

"How are you feeling?" Melissa prompted.

Stiles gave a half-hearted smirk. "Honestly? Like I've been drained dry and filled with napalm."

"A pleasant description," the nurse said with a chuckle.

Stiles slowly lifted his arm, just then realizing that he was hoodie-less and his numerous bite wounds exposed. "…what did you do me?"

Melissa crossed her arms. "You were experiencing violent withdrawals… I did what I had to do so that you didn't hurt anyone or yourself."

"Seems a bit late for that," he mused, tracing an aging bite wound on his arm. He sighed, already feeling over-exertion from the short conversation. "I don't think my plan to run away has been very effective… that's what I get for having bored teenagers for friends."

"That's what you get for having people that love you, Stiles…" the nurse replied. "You should have said something immediately."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "If one more person… tells me that," he forced out, "then I'm putting in a transfer to a new Scooby Gang." His eyes fluttered shut. "This one's… too demanding… I'm only human, y'know…"

Melissa grabbed Stiles' hand and squeezed it gently. The bite marks were red on his skin and she felt her heart beat painfully at the sight. "I know, Stiles…"

"Melissa?" he asked, his eyes opening just enough to see her.

"Hmm?"

"Help my dad… okay?" he asked.

"Help him with what, Stiles?"

The teen closed his eyes, a single tear falling down his cheek. "When it's over," he whispered. "She'll come… she'll come for me…"

OoooO

It didn't matter that there were two werewolves, a hunter, a banshee, a police officer, and a medical professional in the house surrounding her pet. Daliah stood on the other side of the street and stared vehemently at the home; the windows burned brightly in the night… but even the happiness and hope that she felt flowing from within it did little to deter her. In fact, she could also feel one more thing growing: apprehension… and fear.

They knew she was coming.

And they were right to fear her.

OoooO

My apologies for making this chapter shorter than the usual 5,000+… I'm only short by a little over a thousand words! I've been fueling my writing capabilities by watching some classics like 'The Hunt For Red October' and 'Enemy At The Gates' and, of course, 'Sucker Punch'! In any case, I really wanted to get out another chapter before the season finale, since… I'm pretty sure I'll be curled in a ball of denial once it's over. :D