Chaos Magic (Stiles Stilinski)

Tree Dust

Have you ever drifted off in your subconscious? And no, I didn't mean daydreaming. I meant drifting off, floating, not in control. I had some experience, some I wished I never had. But I did, and I had to live with it.

I hadn't had a nightmare since the end of summer. My nightmares usually consisted of Tate, Alma, and Joey—something that happened over the course of my time with them—or the recurring nightmare I had of Addie. This one was different, but it wasn't new. I had this dream before when I was drifting off in my own subconscious.

When Tate controlled my mind, that's where I was—in my subconscious, floating, unable to do anything but watch. But sometimes, I would close my eyes, and everything would be okay. I would be in Allison's room, talking with her and Lydia. I would be in a small diner, talking with Winnie and Isaac. Or I would be riding in the Jeep with Scott and Stiles.

This time, it was different.

After Stiles and I heard Derek's story from Peter, we returned to his house. We crashed as soon as our faces hit the pillows. My eyes fluttered open when I heard the faint creaking of the floorboards outside Stiles' door.

I wiggled my way out of his grip as he groaned and rolled over onto his stomach. I carefully got out of bed and slowly walked over to his door. The bright light crept in through the crack under his doors as more cluttering came from the other side. I reached up for the knob, twisting it until the door opened.

The harsh, bright light made me squint my eyes as I took in what I saw—an old-looking warehouse with gray walls alive with an orange flame. My face felt hot as I stepped forward, finally noticing I wasn't alone. On the outsides of the flames stood about fifty people on both sides. People I didn't know, some I did know. Allison and Lydia were on the left of the room, looking at me as everyone looked to the ceiling, crying, hands raised. The other side of the room looked the same, except Isaac and Derek were looking at me.

My now teary eyes focused back on the front of the room, seeing Stiles and Scott facing me. My face was on fire as I continued to walk closer to them, a sharp, dull pain aching in my shoulder.

As I reached Stiles and Scott, they wrapped their arms around me, pulling me into a deep, tight hug. "We missed you," they whispered, hugging me tighter. The room grew insufferably hot, and I found it harder to breathe. The pain in my shoulder grew as Stiles and Scott pulled out of the hug.

I felt a tear slide down my cheek as I looked up at them. They laid a hand on my shoulder, turning me in a half circle to face the other side of the room. 

I felt my heart stop as I saw him standing there, holding a gun that was pointed at me. I could still feel Allison, Lydia, Derek, and Isaac's eyes on me as everyone around them started muttering to themselves.

I tried to move as I choked out a sob, not being able to take my eyes off Tate. He's dead, I reminded myself; he can't get me. 

"It's okay," Stiles and Scott whispered from behind me as I heard the gun in Tate's hand click. I couldn't say anything, all the words getting stuck in my throat. All I could do was cry.

"It's okay," they whispered as Tate pulled the trigger.

(Stiles POV)

I jolted awake as I felt the bed shift, and then I heard her crying. I quickly sat up, eyes wide, and I found Taylor sitting up, clutching at her chest as she sobbed uncontrollably. "Taylor?" 

I quickly moved to lay my hand on her shoulder, but she flinched away from me, muttering, "No, I don't want to hurt you."

I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked her over. "Taylor, you could never hurt me," I told her calmly, even though my heart was beating a mile a minute. I hated seeing her like this; I thought she had finally gotten past her nightmares. She hadn't had one in months; she was doing so well.