Weight of the World

82

Stiles tossed and turned in his bed, seeing a blurry figure he couldn't make out. He heard a voice. "Do you see him? Where am I? What is this place?"

He shot up, breathing heavily. The voice sounded strangely familiar, but he couldn't remember who it was.

He walked through the halls as though he was in a trance and stopped in front of locker 1050, like he was awaiting someone. He touched the locker and frowned. After a moment, he made his way to class.

Meanwhile, Lydia entered Mrs. Fleming's class and got her test back. Malia had gotten a 'D-'.

"I'm impressed," Mrs. Fleming said. "With most of you. It really speaks to your study habits and your commitment to your education. Everyone else, see me for extra help."

Lydia raised her hand. "Mrs. Fleming, um..."

Mrs. Fleming shook her head. "I already told you, Lydia. I don't give extra credit for alternate equations based on your own theoretical findings."

Malia's claws were out and Lydia whispered, "Malia. Claws. Claws, Malia." She glanced at them and retracted them.

In his class, Stiles heard the voice again. "Will you forget me?"

Scott turned to Stiles and asked, "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Stiles frowned. "I'm trying to remember."

"Remember what?"

"If I knew that, I'd tell you."

After class, Stiles was at his locker exchanging books and got a text from Malia. He frowned at the text and met her in the basement. "Malia?"

"Over here," Malia called.

He followed the voice and found her chained to a wall. Malia looked at him. "I've got a problem. I'm growling at people in class. I'm clawing at my desk. I tried turning the floor of my bedroom into a coyote den. Do these look familiar to you?" She held up the chains.

Stiles took them and frowned. "No. Do you think these would keep you safe?"

She shrugged. "They used to. Before the lake house, this is where I'd come for the full moon. But while you were sometimes down here with me, someone else was too. Scott wasn't down here with me."

Stiles' brow furrowed. "If Scott wasn't..."

"Who was?"

"I don't know. But I don't think you were alone with just me."

Stiles made his way back home after school and started doing homework to try to ease his mind of all the confusion.

His phone buzzed multiple times with multiple messages to meet his friends in the woods.

Stiles made his way to the woods to see Scott, Malia and Lydia.

Scott spoke. "I went to bed at home and woke up in the woods." He gave everyone a flashlight. "About a mile out. I think there's a reason why this has happened. I've been out here before. It was the beginning of sophomore year... the night before tryouts for first line. I remember because it was all I could think about."

"What were you doing?" Malia wondered.

"I was looking for a dead body."

Lydia scoffed, disgusted. "That's morbid."

Stiles shrugged. "Maybe, but it was interesting."

Scott glanced at Lydia. "So then, what was I doing out here?"

Lydia shrugged. "I wish I could help you, but I didn't know you then."

"I was a coyote so I might've tried you eat it," Malia said.

Scott took a moment to think. "Deaton said that my subconscious is trying to tell me something. But I need you guys to help me figure out what it's saying."

Lydia looked at Scott. "Maybe you were just a curious teenager who heard there was a body."

"But how? I never watched the news. And I didn't have a police scanner."

"Your mom works at the hospital," Malia said. "Maybe she got called in and you overheard her?"

"My mom wasn't home that night. I live five miles away from here. How did I get here?"

"You drove."

Stiles shook his head. "He didn't have a car. I drove. But I don't think it was just you and me."

"You ran?" Lydia guessed.

Scott met her eyes. "I couldn't have. I had asthma. I was hiding, but they knew that I was here."

"Maybe you made a ton of noise with your asthmatic breathing," Malia replied.

Scott frowned. "How would they know that it was me? Why would the sheriff and two guys even think that Stiles and I would be out here?"

"Because like most deaths in this town, it was related to the supernatural," Lydia answered.

"I wasn't supernatural, okay? This was the night I was bitten. I wasn't a werewolf yet. And I wasn't out here alone. I know it sounds crazy. But I think Stiles and I had a best friend. And I think she was out here with us that night."

"It doesn't sound crazy," Malia told him. "I know that someone besides Stiles chained me up and I think they wanted me to stay human."

Stiles nodded slowly. "I came to school this morning, sure I was going to meet someone. But I couldn't remember who I was meeting. I've been looking for them all day. Whoever she is, I think I loved her."

Lydia nodded. "Someone, besides Stiles, could always see how smart I really was. I got my test back and went to show them. Whoever it was, I think I she was my best friend."

"What if we're all missing the same people?" Scott asked, pulling a picture from his pocket. He held it up so everyone could see. "I think that they were in this picture."

Lydia pointed to a blank spot. "Stiles, your arms are around someone."

Stiles looked at the picture and nodded. "I think you might be right."

They made their way to Deaton's to see if he was able to help.

Deaton hung a shard of glass from a car on a string in front of Stiles. He lit it from below. Malia narrowed her eyes. "Now he just magically write down all the answers?"

Deaton shook his head. "It's not quite that simple. It never is. In automatic writing, the hand moves outside of any conscious awareness. But hopefully the silence, the darkness, and the light will allow you to find a more comfortable, relaxed, trance-like state. Stiles, I want you to stare into the light and let go of all thoughts."

Stiles stared at the light and picked up the pen. He drowned out the world around him and focused on the sound of pen scratching paper.

The light was turned off moments later and Scott looked at his friend. "Are you okay?"

Malia picked up the paper and frowned. "What does "mischief rifle" mean?"

Scott shook his head. "That's not what he wrote." He turned the paper, revealing a name.

Stiles' brow furrowed. "Who the hell is Molly?"

As he spoke the mysterious girl's name, an oddly happy feeling settled deep inside. Clearly, whoever this Molly was, she seemed pretty important to him.