Treachery || Stilinski

Twenty-two: brothers and Motel California

Emma's P.O.V.:

I close the door behind me, slowly.

Walking towards the bed, I check that Coach is still asleep.

At least one of us is having a good night, I think.

After I take what I was looking for, I have the feeling mine's about to get much worse. Recalling Lydia's party and how she poisoned everyone without even realizing triggered a memory I had supressed for the last twenty-four hours.

Scott getting hurt and the news about Derek's death made me completely forget about last night's dream. Nightmare, more like.

They say your brain supresses traumatic events; last night was something like that. I've never had a dream that felt so...real. Every breath, every step...as if it was actually happening.

Locking myself in the bathroom, I sit against the door and get the whistle I took from Coach's room. A shaky breath leaves my lips as I examine it.

And just like I remembered, the whistle is full of wolfs bane, meaning every time Coach used it, the werewolves were affected by it. That explains why Ethan was trying to kill himself. It explains why Boyd has been acting so weird and Isaac's been so violent.

And it's all because of me.

I had a dream in which I stood at an empty school, in the middle of the night. I was the only living body around. And I walked straight into Coach's office.

I don't remember putting the wolfs bane there, though. But I was there, and it felt so damn real.

Shutting my eyes close, I try to remember. If it really happened, how did I get to school? There's no way I could have walked there. Was I driving? Did I drive Stiles' jeep to school? Someone should have heard me leave.

I start to panic. Am I the reason my friends are trying to commit suicide?

My breathing increases and suddenly the tiny bathroom becomes even more tiny. My vision becomes blurry with tears.

Please, let me be wrong.

"Tell me I'm wrong, tell me I'm wrong," I repeat to myself as I flee the room and go straight downstairs, in the direction I last saw Stiles and Lydia leaving.

I need to recall something else, any signal that it was just a dream, nothing else. Did I have the right number of fingers and extremities? Was I able to read? To speak? To move objects?

All I remember is me walking and that is not enough to stop the anxiety from growing inside of me.

I stop running when I find the parking lot, whistle still in hand. I quickly put it back in my pocket when I find Scott staring at the school bus.

"Scott!" I call him, walking towards him. "What's up?"

He doesn't turn around. I walk around him when I notice water under our feet.

"Hey, Scott? Are you okay?" I whisper. He still doesn't look at me.

I shake my hand in front of his face; he doesn't even wink.

Suddenly, he raises his right hand. In a quick movement, he turns on the flare he had been holding the whole time.

"We're not stepping on water, are we?"

Not only stepping, but Scott's completely soaked in gasoline. I spot the empty recipient near us.

It's happening.

"Scott, you must listen to me," I tell him, taking his forearm attempting to get the flare from him.

He pushes me with supernatural force, making me fall into the pool of gasoline around us. Carefully, I stand back up.