Chapter Text
Chapter 1. Static.
He was alone tonight.
He was alone most nights…
Stiles stared intently at the question on the paper that laid in front of him. Not really reading the words anymore. The sentence was just a string of words with no meaning as his eyes lost focus and blurred around the edges. The only sound in his room was the chorus of crickets chirping faintly outside his window. He sighed loudly and pushed shaky fingers through his hair and placed his elbows on the desk.
“What am I even doing? I've been staring at this page for what? 15 minutes now.”
Yesterday was the first day back to school since the… Since the incident happened. He felt hollow, like an empty hole was carved into the bottom of his stomach and no matter what he did to feel whole, to feel like something wasn't missing, the feeling stayed there heavy like a rock.
Scott, his best friend, his brother. The anchor to keep him down in reality and really Scott, bless him, was trying his best to bring in some sense of normalcy that neither of them could find for the last few days, weeks…month. Stiles knew he was trying. Trying to fix them. The gap that still hung in the air between them. To fix the empty pit that was separating the pack that used to be so strong.
But Stiles saw it, he could read it all over Scott's big brown puppy dog eyes, could feel it in the way he squeezed his shoulder as he said “We're gonna get through this Stiles , We are.” Scott smiled at him, the smile just not quite reaching his eyes, his eyelids seemed to carry some kind of weight. And Stiles in turn would reply the way he should “ I know bud, I… we'll get there… I'm trying really hard to get there.” And there it is again that guilt. That hard hitting, soul crushing guilt.
How do you get over killing your best friend's first love? Not just that but the girl you have cared about for years boyfriend. and yes he killed them. It was his hands and his body that was taken and used. But Scott would say “ It wasn't your fault man, I don't blame you.”
Stiles would try to take in those words, really try to believe in them but Scott would never understand how it felt. How he still feels. How it haunts him still. How it replays in his mind every night. how it felt to not be in control, how it felt to twist that blade, to crawl out of those bandages. And Stiles will never be able to understand how much it hurts Scott to lose Allison. He understands that.
He looks down at the clock on his desk, its red glow bright in his mostly dark room. It read 9:30 P.M He figured he should put his homework away. It wasn't going to get done tonight. Not with his head like this. Too much running through his mind to even try and concentrate. He's honestly surprised there's been no text or call from Scott yet. Being a full moon and all. He's taken to having Pack meetings most nights since Derek had left. We'll what is left of the pack. Kira, Malia normally show up. Lydia well… she makes it when she can. She never really explained why but he knows it has something to do with him. He doesn't blame her for it. And he is trying to go. When he can put on a happy face and crack a few jokes.
Things have been, funny enough, very normal, very not supernatural as of late. Stiles doesn't know if that's a good thing yet or if it's another calm before a storm. So these days they mostly do their patrols and hang out. Stiles normally hangs back as they work on control and training. But mostly He helps Malia with her homework and watches over his shoulder as Kira looks at Scott with a twinkle in her eye as they laugh at some corny joke Scott had said.
Stiles spins his chair around until he faces his bed and moves to plop ever so not gracefully onto his bed. He slides to the edge of the bed and checks his phone that's plugged into a very scarily warped but efficiently taped up charger.
No new messages. No texts.
His head is still swimming with thoughts. No Dad, pulling a night shift, leaving him left over food in the fridge he could barely think about eating right now. No Scott, no pack. Just him and his stupid, broken brain. He lays his head on the pillow and stares out the dark window. Moonlight casting down in a line, cutting through the dark corners of the room.
He closes his eyes. Time feels like it goes still for a while. He tries to clear his mind of his thoughts as best as he can. He listens to the sounds of the crickets as they get louder and feels the wind of the night air blowing through his hair. And a chill runs down his spine. He didn't leave his window open.
His eyes shoot open. He sees bright stars above him, the moon wide and bright shining down.
“What the hell?”
His back feels cold as the muddy earth beneath him seeps a numbing dampness through his clothes. His breath hitches in his throat and he can feel his heart beat drumming in his ears.
What is happening? Where is he?
He pushes his hand into the muddy ground and shivers again as his bare feet touch wet grass. He whips his head around and sits up stiffly. Trees surround him at every turn.
He's in the woods. The preserve. He knows this area well. Standing up he wipes his muddy hands on his knees. He feels tremors move through his hands and legs. The cold wet dew numbed his limbs.
How the hell did he get here? He was just in bed. Panic was quickly rising at the familiarity of what was happening. No, It was gone. But this can't be a dream. He looks at his dirty hands and counts aloud.
“One, Two, Three, Four, F-Five..” His voice cracks and looks to the other hand. “ Six, Seven, Eight, Nine… Ten.” He looks at his toes to be sure as well. They're all there. All digits in perfect order and accounted for.
He holds his head in his hands and with a shaky breath he moves forward as a natural path opens in the preserve in front of him.
He should call Scott. Scott would be there in a second to get him. He hesitates a moment. Scott would also be thinking what he was thinking too. That maybe somehow deep down… it was still there in him.. that maybe he wasn't just sleep walking. He looks down at his pajama pants and grabs at the pockets. He doesn't feel his phone. Nothing there.
It doesn't matter, he just needs to get out of here and get home before his dad does. Before anyone… or anything sees him out here. He knows it's a full moon tonight. The pack is probably already together.
He walks forward getting closer to the sounds of moving water. He knows this area but can't quite place where he is yet. Stiles keeps moving, holding himself. To keep warm but mostly to comfort his already fraying nerves.
Minutes go by and the path finally opens up in the clearing. Then he sees it. The damn stump sits a few feet away from him. Illuminated by the glow of the moon above.
He pauses. And he hears a whisper in the wind. Nothing he can make out but it's a symphony of hushed voices beckoning him to move closer to the stump. Almost pushing him closer.
Was he even moving or was the stump just moving closer to him? He stops in front of it. Toes inches away from its wide,twisting roots.
His hands move before he can realize what he was doing. He's shaking. His hands twitch as they hover above the top of the nematon. He needs to touch it. Something in him is itching in his chest. Like it is waiting to claw its way out. He doesn't feel the empty pit anymore. Something is shifting inside of him in a way he's never felt before. Not like the darkness that has clinged to him like black ink. Not like the nogitsune, not like the void that tried to suppress him and lock him away. But something alive and waiting to be let out. That was like a caged lightning bolt ready to burst.
Just a few inches away from the wood he can feel something like static. It hovers around his finger tips. He leans in.
He hears a loud scream echo through the preserve. Everything goes black around the sides of his vision. He feels the hard wood of the stump hit his stomach. The world spins and he closes his eyes tight as everything else fades away. He sits in darkness. all consuming darkness and for once it feels like a comfort.