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"This is about the murders, right?" Kira asked Lydia. She was sitting behind him, sat in the backseat because Allison and Lydia were in the front. They were all headed to Derek's loft because Scott and Derek wanted to have a "pack meeting".

It didn't really make sense to Stiles why he was supposed to be there. Sure, he was good at investigations, but he wasn't in the pack. He wasn't a werewolf like any of the others, or a Banshee like Lydia or a hunter like Allison- he was just Stiles. He was surprised that Derek had told him to come in the first place, it wasn't like the moody werewolf liked him much anyways.

"Stiles?" Lydia asked, her voice slightly louder than normal. He shook his head, realizing that the car had stopped, and they were in front of Derek's apartment building- Allison, Kira, and Lydia were on the other side, already having climbed out of the car.

"What?" Stiles asked. "We're here." He frowned to himself, as he realized that out loud, pulling the keys out of his car and shoving them into his pocket, grabbing his backpack and shutting the car. Kira had asked the question when they were pulling out of the school parking lot- had he really zoned out that much?

Still distracted, he followed the girls into the elevator, comfortable conversation floating between the three while he stared at the wall, still distracted. He always had trouble focusing, but today seemed to be bad. Did he take his Adderall today?

"Alright," Derek's dark voice brought him back to earth- how did they get in the loft?- drawing Stiles' eyes towards the brooding man as he went to stand next to Scott and Isaac at Derek's desk, where all the newspaper clippings and pictures they had pulled together from the murders were laid out. "Now that everyone's here, we can start."

"We know it's supernatural." Scott began. "The claw marks on the chest says so. But I don't know of any other supernaturals in Beacon Hills, does anyone else?" There was a low murmur of agreement throughout the group and they began to talk amongst themselves briefly, bouncing ideas off each other.

"Wait!" Stiles said, making everyone turn to him. "I have another evidence report from the forth murder, I got a copy from my dad's office when I went there during my off period, it's about-"

He pulled the file out of his backpack, opening the manilla folder with the copy of the detailed police report inside, glancing down at it to read it out loud, but he couldn't. No, no, the words- they were falling off the page, dripping down until they reached his trembling fingers at the bottom of the page. He felt his breath quicken, he felt the werewolves in the room become aware of this change, it was all too much, too much, too much. Someone took a step forward, the sound of a boot echoing in his mind he could hear everything, he could hear the whispers and the words were disappearing and he couldn't breathe and what was happening-

"It's about-" He mumbled, taking a step back. No, the door to his mind- Deaton said it closed when they saved Malia, he could read after that, why did all the words disappear off the page and begin to float around him. Why did they dissapear? Why did they dissapear?

"Stiles?" Scott's voice was far away, echoing. Stiles could feel his chest heaving up and down, but it felt like there was a thousand pounds weighing down on him. Not another panic attack, please. Please.

This had to be a dream. That was it. It was a dream, he would wake up and be able to read just fine and show them the report, he had just fallen asleep during his off period but it was fine. It was a dream. It couldn't not be a dream.

He looked up for the first time, seeing everyone's eyes on him, their cloudy faces mangled with worry as he stumbled backwards once again, dropping the police report from his shaking hands.

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