Teen Beasts 🐾 S.S.

Parasomnia

The woods were quiet with the light of the full moon giving a decent amount of light through the trees. Stiles was running through the trees, moving as fast as he could. He found a small gorge up ahead and he leapt hard at the edge and he flew off into the air for the other side. Time seemed to gradually slow down for Stiles as he was in the air until it seemed to fully stop when his landed firmly on the ground. He was kneeling on the ground, inhaling the deep smell of the earth beneath him.

He then stood up and was about to keep running off, but he nearly fell when he felt something suddenly pierce his shoulder. He grunted as he straightened up and looked to see an arrow sticking out of his shoulder. A hard swish sounded in the air as another arrow flew from the trees and stuck itself in his other shoulder. Stiles gasped out in pain but managed to stay on his feet. He then rose his head to the sky and let out a hard predatorial roar that seemed to vibrate through the forest. As soon as he roared, he then felt as three more arrows moved to stick themselves into his chest, one after the other. Stiles' breath was caught his throat as the pressure of the arrows pressed into his chest. His knees were shaking but he still stayed on his feet, barely. He looked down and grasped the shaft of one of them yet seemed to lack the strength to pull it out. He then heard a sound ahead of him and he looked up to see the one who he called for with his howl.

"Scott!" he gasped out as he rose a shaky hand out to him.

Scott stood there, looking horrified for him, but also torn and hesitant. His friend then turned to look off into the shadows and Stiles saw the dark shape of someone standing there with a bow raised on hand. An outline of the girl and she moved to grab an arrow from her quiver and readied it into her bow as she aimed it at Stiles. Scott was turning his gaze back and forth, as if wrestling with a choice. Stiles or his attacker.

"I'm sorry," Scott mumbled before he turned himself firmly at the archer's direction, making his choice.

She then drew the arrow on the bowstring and Stiles could make out her jawline tightening before she then let go and fired. The arrow came flying for Stiles' head in what felt like slow motion. Stiles blinked as it moved right for him.

Stiles then gasped out as he found himself not staring at Death's door but the ceiling of his room. He was breathing rapidly, his body stiff as a board from the pressure in his chest. After a moment, Stiles found himself able to sit up and he looked down at his chest to find them free of arrows. He was still breathing hard, and sweating a bit, as he looked down to find Malia sleeping soundly right next to him. She was facing in his direction and the sight of her peaceful expression began to calm his hard breathing. He lightly moved the blanket off and sat straight up at the edge, making sure to not stir and wake her up. He wiped the sweat from his brow and his heartbeat began to settle. He soon found himself over his bathroom sink and was splashing cool water on his face. After a while, he moved to wipe himself clean with his towel, but his eyes stayed on the mirror.

When he finished, Stiles moved back into his room and saw the alarm clock by his bedside read that it was a quarter to five in the morning. Malia was still sleeping peacefully and he took a moment to look at her gentle face before he made way for his window. It was still raining somewhat so the full moon wasn't visible but Stiles could still feel it through the clouds. He sighed as he let his forehead bump against the glass. He was wishing he could see it right now, to take his mind away far away from that nightmare.

"Ah boy," he mumbled as he stared out.

Stiles wasn't a stranger to nightmares, especially this one. Getting shot by arrows in the woods with him calling out to Scott, it wasn't the first time he'd had that nightmare. And it wasn't just once before but dozens of times over the last year, starting after that night he had been in the Argent's basement. It would always play out the same way and he'd always wake up like he just now; in a cold sweat and feel paralyzed for about two or three seconds with a hard pressure in his chest. While it wasn't his only nightmare surrounding Allison, it was one of his stronger ones. But it had been a good couple of months since he suffered from this nightmare; since Mexico actually. A part of him thought he'd seen the last of at least this one but he could only guess that seeing Scott write in Allison's initials earlier stirred it back up again.