The Darkness Feels So Cold

Stiles could feel the darkness closing in on him. He had tried everything to fight it, but tonight it was winning. Whispering in the back of his mind, reminding him of everything he's done wrong. None of this would've happened if it wasn't for him. If he hadn't made Scott go and find the stupid body.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to ignore the guilt, the pain, everything. Then the darkness whispered the one thing that it knew would send him into the abyss.

She's dead because of you, and now he's gonna die because of you, too.

He thought of his dad, how he had almost died so many times because of his stupidity.

Maybe next time it won't be almost.

He couldn't take it anymore. He knew he shouldn't, but he picked up his phone and called the one person who could bring him out of this better than anyone.

"Stiles?" Lydia asked when she picked up.

"Hey," he said, attempting a nonchalant tone and failing. "What's up?"

"Not much," she replied. "I'm just hanging out with Aiden."

His gut lurched. Of course she was with Aiden. Why wouldn't she be with Aiden?

"Oh," he uttered, his heart sinking lower. "I'll just…uh…let you go then."

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, though he heard the lie in his voice as soon as he said it, and knew that she did as well. "Sorry to bother you."

He hung up before she could reply.

Desperate to loosen the grip the darkness had on him, he did something he normally wouldn't think of. He went to his dad's liquor cabinet and pulled out a strong bottle of whiskey.

He hesitated. Should he really do this? Would it really help?

Does it really matter that much?

As the darkness swirled inside of him, he opened the bottle. He took a drink, savoring the burn. It would atleast help him get some sleep, he reasoned.

/

Lydia pulled up to Stiles' house. She didn't care that she blew Aiden off. Stiles had sounded really bad on the phone, and she was going to help him.

While she was walking up to the house, she thought about how different he's been acting, and she knew it was because of the sacrifice. She was worried about him. She knew it had been affecting him worse than Scott and Allison.

She knocked on the door and waited for him to answer. He didn't. She knocked again, with the same result. Anxious, she tried the door and it was unlocked. Strange, she thought.

"Stiles?" she called nervously as she walked in. She heard noises coming from the kitchen, and made her way in there.

Stiles was standing in the middle of the kitchen, his phone in one hand, and a bottle of whiskey in the other with his back to her.

Dread surged through her. What was he doing? What had the darkness done to him?

"Stiles?" she called timidly. He did nothing to respond, he just took a swig of whiskey.

"Stiles?" she said again, gently putting her hand on his arm that held the alcohol. He closed his eyes, and then jerked his arm away from her.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice flat and slightly slurred.

"Why not?" she asked. "I'm your friend, and you sounded upset when you called."

"You should be with Aiden," he told her venomously. "I bet he's a lot more fun."

Lydia rolled her eyes in frustration. "I don't care how much 'fun' anyone is, you're upset, and that's what's important. Why are you so upset?"

Stiles turned and looked her straight in the eyes, his foggy from the whiskey that matched his beautiful orbs that were usually so full of light. Now they were flat.

"I killed her," he plainly said.

/

Sheriff John Stillinski was getting ready to go home after a long day of work. He pulled on his jacket, and his phone went off.

He saw a text form Stiles. It was only three words but they made his heart jump in his throat.

I killed her

He couldn't believe that his son would kill anyone, but it made him jump into action none the less. He jumped into his car and sped home.

/

"Who did you kill, Stiles?" Lydia asked, getting scared. Stiles would never hurt anyone, but the darkness on the other hand…

"I killed her," he repeated.

"Who?" she asked again.

He shook his head and walked away from her, swaying slightly as he took another drink.

"Stiles, you're scaring me," she said. "Who do you think you killed?"

"I don't think!" he yelled. "I know killed her!"

/

John Stilinski pulled up to the house and saw another car there. It looked familiar. It was that Lydia girl's car, he remembered from last time she came over.

I killed her

He jumped out of the car and raced to the house. The door was ajar. He went in and heard Stiles yell from the kitchen, "I know I killed her!"

"Who?" he heard a woman's voice say.

He cautiously walked into the kitchen. Stiles was standing at the far end with a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand, and Lydia was standing in the middle of the room, looking scared and confused.

"What's going on here?" he asked authoritatively, but with his worry showing through his voice.

Lydia looked at him with wide eyes and shook her head.

Stiles looked at him blankly for a minute, then something like realization flickered across his face.

"It's me," he said slowly. "It's all me."

"Son, what are you talking about?" John asked.

"I saw it in your face, Dad," Stiles said, his eyes tearing up. "Every day you saw her slowly dying in that hospital bed, you thought 'how am I supposed to take care of this stupid kid on my own?'"

John shook his head in disbelief.

Stiles went on, motioning to himself. "This hyperactive little bastard that keeps ruining your life!" The tears were running freely down Stiles' face now, and John had tears himself.

"Stiles," he said. "How could you even- "

"It's me!" Stiles yelled, "It's me, Stupid Stiles." He looked at John straight in the eye and pointed the bottle towards him. "I killed my mother, and now I'm killing you."

Lydia gasped.

John looked at his son in shock and disbelief. Who the hell had told him that?

Before he could say anything, Stiles threw the bottle against the wall to his left and screamed in anger. Then crumpled onto the floor, sobbing.

John ran to his son and grabbed him by the shoulders, tears pouring down his face. "Look at me," he told Stiles.

Stiles slowly looked up to him. He looked like he was on the urge of a panic attack, the sobs were rocking him so hard. John put a hand on his face.

"Look," he said his voice thick with tears. "I don't know where you got that, but none of that is true, okay? You did not kill your mother, and I didn't think that at all. The only thing I thought about was making sure you were okay. That's been my only concern." He paused, taking a deep breath. "But obviously, I'm not doing a very good job, because you aren't okay. I am so, so sorry sweet boy. But you shouldn't feel this way, and if I did anything to make you believe that, I'm sorry. Forgive me. You're not killing me, you're keeping me alive."

He pulled Stiles close, letting his son cry it out on his chest.

He heard the click of heels as Lydia came forward. He had forgotten she was there.

"What happened?" he whispered to her.

She shook her head and sniffled. She was crying too. "I don't know. I came over just a few minutes before you came home, and he was already like this. I think it's the darkness."

"The darkness?" he asked as he stroked Stiles' hair. "What darkness?"

She sighed and explained what happened when Stiles sacrificed himself for his dad. How a darkness came over him, and she worried that it was affecting him more than Scott and Allison, and how this was proof.

By the time she had finished explaining, Stiles' sobs had subsided, thought there were still tears coming down his face. John brushed his hair back and kissed his forehead and Lydia put a reassuring hand on his arm.

"I'm so tired, Dad," he finally muttered. John nodded.

Stiles pulled out of the embrace somewhat reluctantly and they all made their way upstairs.

Sheriff tucked Stiles into bed like he did when Stiles was little, and he started drifting off to sleep.

"I'm gonna go," Lydia said awkwardly.

"No," Stiles interjected, half asleep. "Please stay."

She looked at John and he just shrugged.

She went to stand by the bed and took off her shoes. She laid down and took Stiles hand, and he pulled it to his chest and went to sleep.

John smiled a little. That girl had no idea just how much his son loved her. But his son also didn't know how much that girl loved him. He didn't even think she knew.

He said goodnight and left the room, trusting that nothing was happening other than sleep. His son was okay. Atleast for tonight. And he was going to make sure it stayed that way. That's what he promised Claudia, and he was gonna keep that promise, no matter how hard it was.