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

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

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.

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[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.]

[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.

[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.]

[He holds her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head while he rubs her back gently. But he grows still at her words, freezing.]

W--what dream? [Because if it's the same one he'd just been having...]

[When he stills, she looks up. They've all figured out it's a flood by now. The shared dreams, this time, aren't banshee-related. Which feels like a relief because she knows he's not in danger.]

The night you vanished. You were--- at the coyote den. [Her voice is just a whisper. She knows, if things really work the way they think it does, he had it, too.]

[Shit. He holds his breath, body tense beneath her. He shouldn't be as alarmed and upset by this as he feels, but he is. He drags in a shaky breath, then rubs a hand over his face before shifting and reaching over to flip on the lamp. He doubts either of them will be going back to sleep tonight.]

Yeah. That sucked.

[She turns her face against his neck when he flips on the light. Then she shifts, legs over his lap, both arms still wrapped around him so she's half over his lap. She still feels cold, even if she knows she's not, physically.]

I'm so sorry, Stiles. [She was so sure they were going to find him, to bring him home safe. But she'd been so wrong. And he was being tortured by that thing inside his own head. Lost, freezing, terrified.]

[He exhales as he winds his arms around her once more. He shifts, resting his back against the headboard of Scott's bed and sliding a hand up to rest against the back of her neck. He's glad that she remains close, that she doesn't let go of him.

But her words...he shakes his head.]

Pretty sure I should be apologizing to you and not the other way around. [His voice is quiet.]

[She shakes her head a little when he speaks, but doesn't move other than tightening her arms around him. Because she knows his guilt well. And now she saw what it was like inside his head and she wants to protect him from it even more.]

I was trying to find you. [She doesn't know if Scott or the Sheriff told him, but she knows she didn't. She was too embarrassed by her incapability to be of any help at all.]

You kinda did.

[She found him mentally even if she hadn't found where he was physically. It spoke volumes about their connection and how her abilities worked. He tightens his arms around her a little more, too, laying his head back against the headboard.]

Mr. McCall found you. [And Ms. McCall, but she heard the whole story while they were at the hospital, she knows it was thanks to him.

But this isn't about her, or how terrible she is at the banshee thing. Sighing softly, she lifts her head and presses her lips to his cheek softly.]

Was it like that all the time? In your head?

Physically. But somehow -- you knew where I was in my dream.

[He lets out a breath, closing his eyes momentarily when she kisses his cheek.]

That was -- no, not exactly. It was different later.

Somehow. [And that's what frustrates her the most about her powers. "Powers". She can't figure them out, she can't make logical sense of them.

She wraps her arms tighter around him for a second then lifts a hand to brush her fingers over his hair.]

When it took control completely? [She knows talking about this isn't easy for him. But-- now she has an understanding of what happened to him that she didn't before. And it was so similar to what Peter did to her. She knows this information is important for her to be able to help him.]

[He leans into her touch, wishing he could give her the answers she so desperately craves about her abilities. About who she is. But he can't. He's as in the dark as she is about how all of it works. All either of them can really do is follow their instincts. Trial and error. It's not satisfactory, particularly for her, he knows. But it's what they've got.

He exhales slowly at her question. It isn't easy to talk about. Even though it's been almost a year, he still doesn't want to talk about it. Still wants to just bury it until it's so deep down he can't feel it anymore. He also knows that it doesn't work like that.

Stiles is quiet for a moment.]

Yeah. It was worse then. I knew everything it was planning. I saw everything it was doing. To my dad. To Scott. Coach. [He lets his gaze drop.] Everyone who got hurt before we split. Everyone he killed. I was awake the whole time.

[There's not much of a point, focusing on her abilities, but there is a point to focusing on him. This is more than he's told her about his whole experience before, even if she knew enough to assume most of what he said.

She doesn't really want to focus on herself, but she knows that out of all of their friends, and all the things they've seen, she's the one with the most similar experience.]

I was aware when Peter was in my head, too. Everything from this dream, him taunting you, him making you believe everything around you was real, only for you to wake up and come back to realize you were sleeping, but that it was still real, in your head. It was like that with me, too. And I remembered all of it after. [She keeps her voice calm and even. It doesn't matter anymore, it was so long ago, but she feels the need to share it with him.]

[He meets her eyes and nods a little. He reaches up and tucks some hair behind her ear, then lets his hand drop along with his gaze. He still feels bad that none of them managed to figure out what was going on with her the whole time Peter had been in her head. They'd been too distracted by the kanima and Matt and Gerard Argent. It wasn't an excuse.]

You ever wake up and wonder if...all of this is some really weird dream?

[She nods a little at his question as she reaches for his hand and wraps her fingers around it.]

Yeah. I used to hope it was. But I don't anymore. [She purses her lips together and looks up at him. Now she has him, she has Allison back, she feels like she belongs with Scott's pack as much as the rest of them do. She doesn't hate who she is, she doesn't have to hide the real her, anymore. And it's all thanks to them.]

[He smiles faintly at that, watching as she links their fingers together.]

Not any of it? [His voice is soft.]

No.

[She smiles a little at him and shrugs a shoulder, brushing her thumb over his hand gently. She feels a lot better already, and he seems to be better, too.]

We always seem to figure it out, somehow.

[He feels better, even if he still feels bad she had to see the crap that happened in his brain that night. He lifts her hand to his mouth and kisses her fingers lightly.]

Yeah, we do.

[Lydia watches him, her chest tight. But this time, the reasons behind it are different. She leans in and kisses his cheek softly.]

Do you think you'll get more rest?

[He slides a hand up and into her hair, kissing her forehead when she leans closer.]

I don't know if I want to try. [His voice is quiet.]

Me either. [She doesn't. Really. But her actions contradict her words because she sighs deeply and lays her head back over his shoulder, letting go of his hand and wrapping her arm around him once more.]

[He rests his chin on the top of her head, letting his eyes shut despite his reluctance, too. It's comfortable. Safe. Within minutes, he's fallen asleep again.]

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

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