Two

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Stiles jolted forwards in his bed, chest heaving as he woke up. It seemed as if all he was doing recently was have panic attacks, as if that was any help at all to the pack.

He looked at his arms and legs, realizing he was in his clothes from before. What had happened? He thought he was in the woods, piled up against a tree with his Jeep.

Instead, he was completely unscathed, as if it had never happened. He glanced at his fingers, counting them quickly, all ten where there, no extra.

"I'm sorry to disappoint, but it wasn't a dream." The voice was there again, and Stiles looked up to see it sitting in his chair, hands resting in its lap as if it was normal to break into a teenage boy's room as a bandaged up crazy person.

"Who the hell are you?" Stiles scrambled up from his bed, looking around for his baseball bat but coming up empty handed.

"I have no name," It said, its voice making him shiver. "But some call me Nogitsune. Or Void." Stiles took a step back as the thing got closer to him, almost teleporting to right in front of the boy, one bandaged hand wrapped around his throat, squeezing it, the other finding its way to his wrist.

"You're going to let me in." It snapped, pressing into Stiles' throat. "Now." Stiles could feel the bruises beginning to form on his neck, reaching backwards to find anything at all he could use to hurt the creature.

He felt it grab his wrist tighter, and with one immense pull it snapped Stiles' wrist, making the boy scream out in pain as it released his throat, making him double over, pulling his arm closer to him in pain.

But it wasn't done yet. Carefully, deliberately, it pulled Stiles up to face him, hand gripping the frightened boy's jawline carefully.

"Pain," It gasped, and Stiles felt relieved, watching black veins crawl up his arm and neck and into the man's hand, disappearing under the bandages, like he had seen Scott do to those in need so many times.

"Let me in!" Stiles didn't know if it was the pain, or perhaps the door to his mind never really did close, but he felt a force in his mind he never felt before; he suddenly felt foreign in his own body, as if he was watching his eyes through a television.

He was Void.

Void Stiles made his way towards Derek's loft, knowing the three days he had trapped the host in his own mind had caused them to panic and look for the boy, and they were probably regrouping in an attempt to find him.

It took quite awhile, despite his power that he had gained from being a thousand years old, and he was there within half an hour, standing outside the loft door for a moment, closing his eyes and preparing himself to channel a weak, sarcastic teenager.

He slid the door open, staring at the sparse group in front of him. Sadly, it didn't seem as if they were all there, so revealing himself wasn't possible. The only ones standing in front of him were Lydia, Derek, Scott, Isaac, and Peter. He wondered why the rest weren't there, why they weren't looking for the poor boy who got in a car crash, and he felt a vague sense of anger of how they were disrespecting him.

"Stiles?" Isaac asked, being the only one facing the boy. The others turned around in shock, various degrees of confusion etched into their faces.

"Hey," He said, his voice trembling as if he had run there. "Did I miss the party invitation?"

"Stiles!" Lydia cried, running forwards to hug him. It collapsed into the hug, wrapping its arms around her shoulders and letting a shaky breath of relief into her neck.

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