22. A monster, a monster, I've turned into a monster

[voluntaryapnea]

Who: Stiles Stilinski, bad dreams and YOU.
Where: Stiles' mind and then...Scott's room, the kitchen, and Scott's room again.
When: Throughout the "Less Than Thou Showest" flood, January 25th - 29th.
What: Stiles' mind is a scary place. It gets scarier when the nightmares aren't even his.
Warnings: Blood, death, violence, attempted suicide, drowning.
Note: Open to anyone, planned or not!

He hasn't had nightmares like this in awhile. But now he can't seem to shut them off. It's not like it was once, where everytime he woke up he's screaming. But it's not pleasant, and it's not his idea of a good time, and by the time he convinces himself to leave Scott's comatized body and go to the kitchen for caffeine, he feels like a zombie.

He makes it back to Scott's cabin in record time, drinking down the hot beverage so fast that it burns his mouth and then his throat.

He mumbles some curses and waits impatiently for the beverage to cool down before taking another long drink. Frankly he wishes it was something stronger.

A lot stronger.

Comments

Canon Near Death (CW: Drowning)

[voluntaryapnea]

The pool water is warmer than you expected, but colder than you'd hoped. You've been holding up a broody, currently paralyzed werewolf above water for nearly two hours -- you know this because your eyes are locked on the clock. You try not to think about how tired your arms and legs are, about how nice it might be to just let go of Derek and get that 200 pound jerk off your literal shoulders.

You don't even like the guy. He's rude -- actually mean is a better word for it -- and he frequently slams you into doors and steering wheels and threatens your life. You're actually kind of scared of the guy, even if it's less than it used to be. He's caused all kinds of trouble. He's turning people left and right and sure, they want to be werewolves, but it's driving your best friend kind of crazy because Scott is Scott and he feels like it's his responsibility to keep all of them safe.

But you can't let him die, even if you've asked Scott to do just that repeatedly. You talk a good game, but you already have your mother's death on your head, and you don't want another one to boot, even if you don't like the guy.

You're so tired. You can't do this much longer, and you tell Derek that, you tell him he has to trust you and he argues, points out that the giant lizard stalking around the pool is the reason you have to keep him alive. He doesn't believe you're already planning to do that anyway.

You grit your teeth and shake your head a little, eying the ladder.

"I need something to hold onto," you tell him, kicking your feet and pulling him along with you, ignoring his grumbling. You reach for the railing when you feel your body start to give out.

You are 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones and you can't hold on anymore. You're both going to die.

You're choking on a lungful of water when strong hands grip onto your arm and you're flying through the air alongside Derek and you both hit the ground simultaneously. Your head feels like it's about to explode from the exertion and you pant. Scott has the best timing ever.

Canon Near Death (CW: Suicidal thoughts and actions, and fire)

[voluntaryapnea]

You know it's him even before the three of you move around to stand in front of him. Your best friend is standing outside the world's creepiest motel and he's drenched in gas holding a lit flare. It's the look of despaire on his face that makes all the air leave your lungs. It makes your insides turn cold, like ice, like every part of you is now frozen.

"There's no hope." Scott's voice is tired, defeated. You've never heard him like this before and it's terrifying. You can't speak. You can't move. You can only stare.

You hear Allison talking to him, telling him there's always hope.

"Not for me. Not for Derek."

Derek is dead and Scott feels responsible and you know that there is something else going on here -- because all of the werewolves on this cross country trip have literally lost their goddamned minds tonight. Ethan tried to saw himself in half and Boyd tried to drown himself and Isaac was hiding under the bed and you don't even know where the three of them are right now, and you don't actually care at this point because if Scott kills himself, it won't matter anyway.

"Derek wasn't your fault." You manage to glance at Allison as she speaks, her voice wavering because she's crying and it terrifies you because you haven't seen Allison cry before. She's a warrior. "You know Derek wasn't your fault."

Your gaze goes back to Scott and you feel like you can't breathe.

"Every time I try to fight back, it just gets worse. People keep getting hurt."

People have been getting hurt, but it's hardly Scott's fault. He isn't the one who bit Erica. He isn't the one who killed her. He isn't the reason that Derek is dead.

"People keep getting killed."

It's all you can take. You're suddenly speaking and it almost startles you. "Scott. Listen to me, all right? This isn't you. This is someone in your head telling you to do this. Okay?" You know it's true because your dad taught you that once is an incident, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern. What, you wonder, is four? You don't want to know. Not really.

"What if it isn't? What if it is just me? What if doing this is actually the best thing that I can do for everyone else?"

You feel sick. Nauseated by the words, by the idea that he might really believe what he's saying and you want to scream, but you can't. You have to focus. You have to disarm him. You have to.

Scott looks up at you, tears and gasoline mixing on his cheeks. "It all started that night. The night I got bitten." His voice is quiet, but it wavers like he's trying not to cry even though he is. "You remember the way it was before that? You and me?"

You do. And some days you'd give anything to have those days back, to not be dealing with things like kanimas and alpha packs and a darach that's trying to kill everyone.

"We were...we were nothing." His breathes out an almost laugh and you swallow hard, barely aware of the tears in your own eyes. "We weren't popular. We weren't good at lacrosse. We weren't important. We were no one. Maybe I should just be no one again." You watch with horror as he raises the flare in his hands and your eyes fix on it for a moment. "No one at all."

You move forward, inching closer, your own voice wavering a little because your best friend is standing in a puddle of gas threatening to kill himself. "Scott, just listen to me, okay? You're not no one. Okay? You're someone." You pray to a god you're not sure you even believe in to tell you what to say to stop this from happening. You've never been this afraid, except the night that your mom died, the machines monitoring her heart and blood pressure suddenly wailing and shattering the stillness of the evening.

You have to verbalize all of the things that you feel for this boy standing in front of you, verbalize it in a way that will make him understand that you can't do this without him. "Scott, you're my best friend. And I need you." And that's such an understatement. He's crying, and so are you and distantly you're aware that Allison and Lydia are somewhere behind you, silent and horrified. You move closer -- a couple of steps. "Scott. You're my brother." You put emphasis on the term, because he is, in every way that counts. You aren't blood related but it's never mattered. Not with the two of you.

"All right? So..." You look down at the puddle of gasoline that's getting bigger, mixing with the light rain that fell earlier, and you take a deep breath and look straight at him.

You step into the puddle with him.

"So if you're gonna do this, then..." You swallow hard, terrified that it still won't be enough. That whatever is in Scott's head is stronger than the bond the two of you share. You reach up slowly, toward his hand that's holding the flare. "You're just gonna have to take me with you then." You mean it. You'd rather die here with him than have to watch him die and be helpless to stop it.

You meet his eyes and your chest feels too tight as his expression twists with pain and despair, but you cover his hand with your own and gently take the flare from him with your other hand. You don't break your gaze from his as you throw the flare behind you as far as you can. You don't see that it's starting to roll back toward both of you.

You hear Lydia scream, a terrified "No!" that rings out before you're tackling Scott because she's tackling you. Flames burst in the air where the two of you had just been standing. You don't see them, but you sure as hell feel the heat from them.

You are both still alive.

[Object you might awaken with: a still lit flare.]

Canon Death (CW: Drowning)

[voluntaryapnea]

You are clutching onto your dad's sheriff's badge tightly enough that it hurts, and you're staring at the tub already filled with ice water. You are terrified, but you know you'll do this because not doing it is even worse. You will be the sacrifice in your dad's place, the same way that Allison will be the sacrifice in her dad's place, and Scott will be the sacrifice in his mom's.

You aren't sure that it will work, but it doesn't matter. If you don't wake up from this, at least maybe your dad will. At least you won't have to face the world without both of your parents. At least at least at least.

You steel your nerves as best you can and lift one leg and dip your foot into the ice bath and Christ, it's cold. It isn't like when you helped hold Isaac down in an ice bath weeks ago. Isaac didn't die even if he was near it, but you hadn't envied him then and you definitely don't now. You've never liked being cold.

It doesn't deter you from climbing the rest of the way into the tub, sinking down so only your head is above water. You grit your teeth to try and keep them from chattering. You look at Allison first, and she is pale and afraid in her own icy waters, fear written on her face as surely as it is on your own.

You look at Scott next and your gazes meet. You seem him nod slightly, see him shivering. You feel Lydia's hands on your shoulders, you appreciate the gentle squeeze she gives them as if she's trying to reassure you, too.

You don't fight as she pushes you beneath the water because this sacrifice is willing. The last thing you feel before you lose consciousness is the weight of your dad's badge still in the palm of your hand, fingers curled around it tightly.

[Object you might wake up with: his dad's sheriff's badge or a handful of ice cubes.]

[whatthefoxsay]

Kira has spent many winters in New York City, and yet nothing has prepared her for this kind of cold.

But in her dreams, she is Stiles, and Stiles is her, and while she has been fortunate not to have lost either of her parents, the desparation to save him! is as potent for her as it is to the boy she's sharing a death with.

The metal bites into her palm, more an irritant than pain, and she finds it comforting. The hands on her shoulders serving as the harbinger of her willing death are also comforting. Kira could never have imagined that an act to end a life could be filled with care, and something inside her also whispers this is love. Gazing at Scott's face briefly, and comfort is combined with confidence. Stiles' faith, her faith in Scott has never been unfounded, and in this moment, she understands what it means to love like a brother.

And then she's under. Cold, so cold. She can't breathe. Is there supposed to be a light at the end of this tunnel? Her grip on the badge tightens.

[voluntaryapnea]

He wakes up suddenly, a cold sweat drenching his forehead as he gasps for breath. As if he's just now sitting up and emerging from the icy waters of a metal tub. He isn't, of course, just waking up from the sacrifices. They aren't about to try and deal with all the problems the nemeton's about to bring them. They aren't about to go their separate ways with Stiles and Allison going to get their captive parents and Scott heading off to deal with Deucalion and Jennifer Blake.

He's on the Barge and this time he's passed out at Scott's desk, head resting on an open book. He blinks a couple of times, drawing in a breath and letting it out slowly as he looks around but sees nothing out of place. The room is silent, and Scott's still in a coma. He's not sure what brought that particular dream about today, but he's going to try and not focus on it so hard that he causes himself more nightmares later.

[whatthefoxsay]

The soft knock at the door may have a familiar rhythm to it, but since it opens right after that, the answer to the mystery is clear: here's Kira. Her eyes are are huge, like she's Seen Something; filled with something more traumatic than those big eyed kids in the velvet paintings. She's clutching something in her hands, and for ones her eyes don't drift toward Scott's prone body, but rather she makes a beeline for Stiles.

Once she makes it to within a few feet, she tightens her grip on the item in her hand; a dented metal sheriff's star.

"I miss my dad." Kira says, perhaps not quite apropos of nothing. To her credit, she does not cry, but her eyes do shine.

[voluntaryapnea]

Stiles glances to the door as soon as he hears the quiet knock, and his eyebrows furrow a little at the sight of Kira and it dawns on him with the way that her eyes glisten with unshed tears and her comment about missing her dad.

"You had my dream." It isn't really a question. He knows it's been happening all over the barge, and he's glad, in a way, that it's Kira who shared the experience and not someone he barely knows. He lets out a breath, reasoning that she's seen him at his absolute worst before, already.

He rises to his feet, nodding. "I miss my dad, too." His voice is quiet and he hesitates a second before hugging her.

[whatthefoxsay]

Kira is grateful for the hug. "It's the Flood, isn't it." she guesses. Stiles may find there's a small damp patch where her face pressed briefly against his shirt, but when she steps away, there aren't any tear tracks. Instead, she holds the star out in offering. "This is yours." she says firmly.

Canon Near Death (CW: Hypothermia, a bit of gore)

[voluntaryapnea]

It's so cold. So, so cold. And the pain in your leg is immense. You're bleeding and it's bad, you know it's bad, but you can't do anything. You're in a dark basement and it smells horrible and your eyes are burning with it. Scott is going to find you. You know he is. He always finds you. He has great timing.

The voice is scratchy when it speaks and you can't see who's speaking. "It's getting colder, Stiles. Did you notice that we've stopped shivering? Do you know why that's a bad sign?"

Your mind is cloudy with fatigue and your eyes feel heavy, but you know this. You know why it's bad. "It's the body trying to conserve energy. It was my fifth grade science report."

"Hypothermia. Our speech is starting to thicken. Then comes fatigue. Confusion. We're going to die if we don't get out of here."

You grit your teeth. "Stop saying that. Stop saying we." There is no we. You aren't going crazy. You can't be. You can't get sick that way, you can't put your dad through that. Not after your mom.

"We're trying to keep you from freezing to death. You better get up, Stiiiiles."

You hate that voice. Even so, even though it's probably some twisted part of your consciousness trying to scare you enough to get the adrenaline pumping, some part of you refuses to even try. "How!? There's a freaking steel-jawed trap on my leg!" You scream at the voice.

"Is there?" the voice responds calmly.

What? You look at your leg in confusion, and sure enough the trap is still there.

"Notice something different?" the voices asks patiently. "It was on your right leg before, wasn't it?"

No. No, you're not going crazy. You can't be going crazy.

"No," you insist. "Are you sure? What is this? What are you doing?" Your voice raises, afraid, and your breathing is heavy and there are tears leaking from your eyes.

"We're trying to save you, Stiles. We're trying to save your life." There's a long moment of silence. "You don't understand, do you? Do you know any riddles, Stiles?"

What the hell? you wonder even as you answer, "A few."

"What gets bigger the more you take away?"

"A hole," you say immediately.

"What gets wetter the more it dries?"

This one is easy, too. You've heard this before. "A towel."

The voice gets louder now, stronger and you swallow hard. "When is a door not a door?"

You stare at the shadowy figure that's speaking, your heart beating too fast from fear, from pain and exhaustion. This is it. The riddle that you hate. "When it's ajar," you whisper.

"Everyone has it but no one can lose it. What is it?"

You hesitate, shaking your head. "I don't --" You don't know the answer. You're cold and tired and scared and you want to go home.

The figure makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl. It rises to its feet, you can see that much in the darkness, but you still can't see its face. There's just enough light in the room that you can see it's your height when you're standing, when there isn't a trap on your leg.

"Everyone has it, but no one can lose it. What is it, Stiles?"

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to think. It's so cold. "I don't know."

"Everyone has it," it whispers. "And no one can lose it." The voice is closer now and you're afraid to open your eyes. Afraid to see it. Afraid of what it might mean. You can sense it, feel it right in front of you and you press a hand to your face. Don't look, don't look, don't look. It speaks in another language again, a language you don't recognize. You don't know what it means.

"What is it?"

"I don't know." You finally look up and it's right there, wrapped in bandages, sharp teeth bared in its mouth as it gets in your face and terror shoots through you. It screams something in that language again and you shrink back as much as you can, press yourself against something cold and solid that doesn't give.

It moves away, but doesn't go far. It grabs the chain on the trap that's on your leg and begins to pull. Pain and terror vie for dominance as you begin to scream no! You try to clutch at anything that might help anchor you, that might keep you from being dragged off to certain death, and all because you didn't know the answer to a fucking riddle. You're still screaming.

"No! Wait! Wait! Wait!"

You're sobbing, still screaming wait as you're pulled from a cold, dank coyote den and into the arms of Scott's mother who's shouting your name as you wake up, freezing and numb all over, terror still racing through your veins.

[Objects you might awaken with: a handful of leaves or dirt.]

[imfollowinghim]

Bucky is no stranger to nightmares, to waking up shaken and terrified, thinking you're somewhere else, with someone else, and he's nearly punched or shoved Steve off him enough times to be very used to every part of this flood.

Except waking up with strange objects in your bed. That, he could do without.

(He could probably do without seeing just how bad things were for his friends, too, and Stiles' dream - because of course it's Stiles', who else would be possessed by something and thinking Scott was going to show up and rescue him? - in particular hurt to see, but the kid knows all about what happened with Zola, so maybe it's only fair. The universe trying to balance itself out.)

He goes looking for Stiles in Scott's cabin without even thinking about it, really, knocking on the door frame instead of just barging in. He's figured out by now that people aren't really aware of what you're watching from their perspective, and it's probably stupid to come over and announce that you've seen them at your most vulnerable, but.

Stiles already isn't a good sleeper. This flood has got to be a (haha) nightmare for him.

[voluntaryapnea]

Stiles is cold when he wakes up.

It's been awhile since he woke up feeling cold after a dream, but if there's one kind that does it, it's nightmares about the nogitsune. He knows where he is when he wakes up and he lets out a breath and closes his eyes after he sees Scott beside him. His best friend is still in a coma, but somehow his presence is still a comfort right now. He rubs a hand over his forehead, and reaches out, flicking on the lamp and sitting up slowly.

The knock on the door a few minutes later surprises him. It's late. Really late. And he thinks maybe it's Lydia or Allison or Kira, but by now they all just come right in and make themselves at home here too, and that's good. He's pretty sure that's how Scott wants it. He starts to say, "Come in," but refrains. One can't be too careful with vampires -- supposedly reformed or not -- as he knows all too well. And he won't be the one to invite one into Scott's room. He rises to his feet instead, and moves over to the door, not hesitating to pull it open.

He's surprised to find Bucky standing there, though. "Hey. Are you okay?" Because usually people knocking on a door in the middle of the night need some kind of help but a quick glance reveals no visible injuries.

[imfollowinghim]

"Kinda feel like I should be asking you the same question," is Bucky's initial reply, raising a meaningful eyebrow at Stiles because, well. You know why. Probably.

"Can I come in?"

No use beating around the bush, right?

[voluntaryapnea]

He grimaces at that. Yeah, he knows why. Bucky was the lucky winner of his most recent nightmare. Awesome.

"Yeah. Come in." He steps aside and then closes the door behind him, rubbing the back of his neck.

"So that was unpleasant."

[imfollowinghim]

"That's one way of putting it." Bucky's not sure what else to say, because... yeah. That definitely covers it.

There's more he should probably say, but he's not sure how to put any of it. Stiles told him all about the nogitsune, it seems stupid to ask more about it, or pry, even if he's still worried about how he's coping with it. How do you cope with it?

He glances over at the bed, nodding towards the still sleeping form under the blankets.

"How's Scott?"

[lydiascreams]

[She wakes up screaming. Not a piercing banshee scream of death, but a human scream of pain and terror, she's sobbing as she thrashes, kicking her arms and her legs as she tries to free herself. She feels the pain on her leg, on her foot.

She's freezing, so cold, and so terrified.

But then it gets better as she feels warm arms wrapped around her. Her eyes are still shut tight, her body still freezing cold and she can hear his name being called. Her name.]

[voluntaryapnea]

[He's had this dream before. More than once. When he wakes up from it each time, he always thinks it's going to be less frightening the next time. It never is. He wakes up not because it's the end of the dream, but because Lydia is thrashing beside him on the bed. Her foot connects solidly with his knee and shit it hurts, but he's too alarmed to pay much attention.]

Lydia! Lydia! It's okay! Lydia!

[He wraps his arms around her tightly, willing her to wake up.]

[lydiascreams]

[She, him, the dream or reality, she's not sure. But she grips his arms tightly as she gasps for air. She can feel the tears on her cheeks and she's still so cold. But it doesn't feel as real anymore. Like it's all in her head.

With wide eyes, she swallows hard and turns her head toward him.]

[voluntaryapnea]

[It's the flood. He realizes it quickly, but he's not sure what she was just dreaming about, either. Whatever it is had to have been terrifying. She's shaking in his arms. He lifts one hand to her cheek, brushing his thumb over her skin gently and murmuring quietly to her, trying to soothe her.]

It's okay. You're safe, Lyds. I've got you. It's okay.

[lydiascreams]

[She turns into him, shifting closer as she slides her arms around him, her head on his shoulder. Slowly, she's feeling a little more like herself.]

It was your dream. [She knows when it happened, too. The night she led everyone to the basement at Eichen House, only to find it empty, with no sign of Stiles.]

Canon Near Death (CW: Suicidal thoughts and actions)

[voluntaryapnea]

You are standing in a place you don't recognize, and it's cold and snowing. Your friends -- the ones who are left -- Scott, Lydia, Kira -- they're as confused as you are. You were walking into the school only moments ago. The nogitsune is a few feet away, and even though you can't see its eyes through the bandages, you know it's looking right at you.

"Like I promised, Stiiiiiles. We're going to kill all of them. One. By. One."

The oni appear and Kira draws her katana.

"What the hell is this? Where are we?" Scott asks, voice tense and uncertain as he and Kira edge you and Lydia backwards a little. The strongest of the pack protecting the weakest.

"Between life and death," the monster answers.

"Bardo," Lydia whispers.

It wags a finger at her. "But there are no peaceful deities here, Lydia." It looks at you again. "You're dying, Stiles."

You feel Scott's gaze turn to look at you, can practically see the alarmed expression on his face even though you aren't looking at him. You know the nogitsune is right. You're too cold, too weak. You haven't eaten anything in days, since the the monstrosity had taken control of your body and turned you against everyone you love. You feel like death, but Lydia isn't screaming yet.

"And now everyone you care about is dying, too." The nogitsune sounds almost gleeful at this announcement.

Lydia shifts closer to you but you don't look at her. You're staring in confusion at the nightmare in front of you. "What? What do you mean?"

"I've captured almost all of the territories on the board, Stiles. The hospital." Scott's mom. "The sheriff's station." Your dad. You feel Lydia's hand on your back and your face has drained of color. "And now the animal clinic." Deaton. Scott's emissary.

The oni are circling and Kira and Scott are trying to edge you and Lydia back farther as the nogitsune continues it's joyful tirade.

"Do you know the ritual of seppuku, Stiles?"

You feel Lydia tremble beside you and distantly you know it's probably equal parts fear and cold. You wrap one arm around her, pull her close. "No. And I don't want to," you respond, voice stronger than you feel.

"When a samurai disembowels himself with his own sword to maintain his honor, but that's not the cut that kills him. The killing stroke is made by his kaishakunin, who beheads the samurai with his own katana." It points at your best friend. Your brother. "Scott... Scott is your kaishakunin. I'm going to make your best friend kill you, Stiles. And you're going to let him." You're trembling now, too, and you cast the briefest of glances at Scott, who looks horrified. "Because just like you, they're all going to die. Everyone touched by an Oni's blade. Unless Scott kills you first." It's standing right in front of you now, too close to your friends. Too close to you.

"Why? Why are you doing this?" you ask.

"To win...the game."

The Oni begin to move, twirling their swords around and moving closer. Scott wolfs out, Kira moves into a defensive posture with her own katana as you and Lydia press closer together as if you can somehow protect each other from this by sheer force of will, watching in horror as your best friend and Kira fight the same creatures who killed Allison only hours before. They're a blur of motion as they move, defending themselves, defending you. There are so many of the Oni, though, and only two of them. The odds aren't in their favor.

"This can't be real," Lydia whispers, and you hear the fear in her voice and you wish it was true because this is worse than a nightmare.

"Yeah? Tell that to them," you respond, unable to take your eyes off the ninja-like creatures as they slash at Scott and Kira, seemingly ignoring the two of you for the moment.

All the air leaves your lungs as Kira loses her sword, cornered by two of the Oni holding her at the end of their blades.

The decision is made in your mind before you even realize you're letting go of Lydia and throwing yourself toward the dropped katana. You fall to your knees, grabbing hold of it and slowly rising to your feet, tired and cold and afraid and tired of being tired, and cold and afraid.

You point the blade at your own stomach, heart beating heavily in your ears.

"Stiles! No!" Scott cries out. "Stiles!"

Your hands are shaking. You feel the sharpness of the blade in your hand even as you press it against your shirt, feeling the point against your stomach. "What if it saves you? What if it saves all of you?"

Lydia's voice is as full of fear as Scott's. "What if it's just another trick?"

"No more tricks, Lydia," the nogitsune tells her, watching you intently. "End it, Scott. Let your friend fall on his own sword. Do for him what he cannot do for himself. Do it, Scott. Be his kaishakunin. Give up the game!"

Your gaze drops to the metal blade once more. Your teeth chatter and your vision blurs a little as you try to steel your nerves. You can do this. You have to do this to save all of them. There's no other choice.

"You have no moves left!" the monster growls out.

And that's when you see something in the reflection of the blade. You blink. Once. Twice. Then you turn to look over your shoulder at the book on the ground. At the snow covered school desk. It takes you a second to realize what it means. You aren't in Bardo. You're at school and this is all another trick.

You lower the katana from your stomach and then toss it over to Kira, who catches it effortless.

"I do," you inform it. It's a risk. But you're sure you're right. "A divine move."

Barge Near Death (CW: Suicidal thoughts and actions)

[voluntaryapnea]

You are alone, surrounded by hundreds of images of yourself, brief glimpses of a you that is not quite you smirking, laughing. The anxiety you were feeling earlier has come back full force. That's when you see it -- Void -- clear and in front of you, eyes dark, mouth twisted into a dark smile that you recognize as the bringer of death. Without hesitation, you raise your bat and slams it into the mirror, shattering the glass. You don't care about seven years of bad luck. It doesn't even cross your mind.

It's a futile action, because Void just appears in the next one, laughing at you.

"You think it's that easy to be rid of me? Your divine move doesn't matter here. You're never going to be free of me. I'm going to kill them. I'm going to kill all of them, Stiiiiiles. And you're going to help me."

"Like hell," you retort, shattering that mirror, too, face drained of all color.

"I'm gonna start with Allison. Always with Allison. And then Lydia. And finally your best friend is going to have no choice but to do the one thing that will stop me. Do you think he can do it this time?"

You squeeze your eyes shut shut and swing again, shattering more glass, pulling in panicked, shuddering breaths as you try to tell yourelf it is just this place. That it's messing with you, that it's not real, that Void is gone, trapped back home in a box made from the Nemeton.

"Do you want to save your friends, Stiiiiles? You know the one way that you can."

"Stop," you whisper, clutching onto your bat tightly with one hand.

"Make me," Void whispers, circling around behind you in the mirrors and then beside you, in front of you. All around you. Everywhere. "You have more friends here, don't you, Stiiiles? I can't wait to destroy all of them!"

A tear streaks down your paler than usual face but you make no effort to brush it away, reluctantly opening your eyes and staring at Void in the mirror. Your gaze darts to a broken shard of glass on the floor, long and jagged. You swallow heavily and you hear the voice -- your own, but not really -- chuckle. You let go of your bat, let it clatter to the floor and reache for the shard, clutching it in your hand tightly, feeling the sharp edges cut into your skin as your heart begins beating faster.

"It isn't a katana, Stiiiiles. But it'll do if you have the guts."

Months of terror flash through your mind in seconds, make your fingers curl more tightly around the glass as you press it against your stomach. You catch sight of the other version of Void -- the version that isn't you, that's wrapped in bandages -- in one of the mirrors behind you, his teeth bared and mouth open wide, waiting.

You plunge the glass as deeply as you can, pain shocking your system as you fall to the floor amidst the rest of the broken glass. Your communicator hits the ground beside you and distantly you wonder if it's broken. You doesn't realize that it's clicked on in a private voice feed for Lydia.

You pass out shortly later, blood pooling around you on the ground, coldness settling on you body as you wait for the darkness to take you for good this time.

[Object you might awaken with: large shard of broken glass, or possibly bloody hands.]

[fridgetothefire]

She's both impressed and worried; feels a strange chime of kinship, but isn't at all sure if he'd welcome it, if she could explain why without crossing lines again that have already been crossed without his permission.

She did promise Dean that she'd check up on him, though. It's an easier place to start, concrete. When she's done with her morning routines, combat drills and breakfast and work shift, she shoots him a text.

dean is worried about you

[voluntaryapnea]

Stiles isn't sure what to think when he gets the unexpected text from Anya. Even less so when he reads it. Dean is worried about him? His eyebrows furrow a little and he shakes his head before responding with a text of his own.

he is?

[fridgetothefire]

he yelled at me that you were in over your head

and other wardens should be helping you

and how it wasnt fair of the barge to take advantage of your desperation

i mean a little of that is projection obviously

but mostly it sounded pretty sincere

so you must be doing something right

He really cares, in his angry Dean way.

[voluntaryapnea]

He pauses at that, reads all of her texts multiple times. He cocks his head, contemplative as he leans back in Scott's desk chair a little. A tiny smile spreads across his face. He'd thought he'd been making a little progress with Dean, even if he knows Dean would deny it all the way to heaven, hell, purgatory and in between, if he ever told him so. But it's nice to have it confirmed. He trusts Anya's instincts.

well that's good to know

thanks, anya

how are you doing?