The Glade ♚ TMR x TW - Complete

9; memories

It all came rushing back at once.

He remembered dragging his best friend into the woods at night to find a dead body. His best friend got bit and turned into a werewolf. They met Allison and his best friend fell in love. He remembered the strawberry blonde and all the times she ignored him until the supernatural came into their lives, then they were hardly ever apart. She got bit and was turned into a banshee. They survived a kanima and an alpha pack. He got possessed by a demon and killed their friend. Then he remembered the day he was taken.

They had defeated the nogitsune but Stiles still wasn't sleeping well. He thought he had cleared his mind, but the death of his dear friend was still weighing on his shoulders. He couldn't rid himself the feeling of guilt. He spent hours upon hours scrolling and typing on his computer, the bright screen light causing a migraine to form after so long of staring at it.

Stiles ran out of his house, hopping into his Jeep as he took his phone out of his jacket pocket. He dialed Scott's number and pulled from the driveway as it rung. Within seconds, the werewolf answered. "Stiles? It's 3am. Are you okay?" The worry and fear lacing his voice caused Stiles to inwardly groan. Would he ever trust him again? "I couldn't sleep so I was on the internet just messing around on different kinds of supernatural websites. I'm not sure how I stumbled on it, but get this. There's a secret group, a secret organization, that's dedicated to 'saving the world'. They want to do something with supernatural creatures from all around the world, I'm still not 100% sure what, but I was able to hack into their website that's how I found them. I deciphered a couple coded messages on there and—" Scott cut him off after a minute or two of him talking. "Can we talk about this later? We've got school literally in a couple hours." The werewolf's voice mumbled through the phone and Stiles wasn't sure he was even awake. He sighed and told him that yes it could wait and they hung up. He kept driving down a dark road surrounded by trees, heading to Derek's loft to show him what he discovered, hoping the werewolf wasn't asleep also. Blinding white lights pierced into Stiles' eyes, causing him to slam on the breaks and skid to a complete stop, he couldn't see a thing. He parked the car and started to unbuckle when his driver side door was thrown open and two pairs of large hands grabbed Stiles. They dragged him out of the car and before he could scream, a rag was smothered into his mouth and nose. He was forced to breathe the fumes in and within seconds was unconscious. Two masked men took Stiles' deadweight and threw him into the back of a black van, both getting in the front and taking off. They left his blue jeep running as it sat in the middle of the road, it's drivers door ajar. The sheriff wouldn't discover it until the next morning with an empty tank and a dead battery when Scott would call to tell him that Stiles never showed up for school.

Don't forget.

The thin male walked through a long, dimly lit hallway; doors lining both walls. He wore plain grey clothes that fit nicely on his body. His brown hair was trimmed nicely around his face, with chocolate brown eyes scanning the corridor as if looking for something. They darted from one door to another, mumbling under his breath.

Don't forget.

The words came out again and again, on a repeated cycle. A mantra. He couldn't quite grasp whatever he was trying to remember, was the problem. It was there, in his head; but everything was fuzzy and out of focus he just couldn't make any sense of it.

The only thing he could see clearly was two lights. They were bright red, almost like they were glowing. He didn't know what the red lights belonged to but he wanted to find out. In a way, they resembled eyes, but eyes don't glow.

Walking down the hallway, he felt drawn by an unknown force. It was pulling him, moving his legs without his permission like he was a puppet. He didn't know why he was wandering around with the chance of being caught; however there he was, fully exposed to the many cameras around.