Shh. Let me live in my happy world.
Stiles jumped up from the bed, sweaty and grumpy and more than a little panicked. It had been years since the alpha pack, since the darach, since overwhelming amount of deaths and tragedies that Beacon Hills never fully recovered from. Stiles didn’t recover either, not nearly enough judging by the dreams that still plagued him.
Except in his dreams, everything happened all at once, all on the same night. Lydia being bitten and left for dead, Matt and the kenama, having to chain Scott up, Erica’s death, the night they thought Derek died, Scott attempting suicide, Boyd’s death… everything all at once. And every time Stiles handled things. Took the flare away from Scott, carried Lydia to the emergency room, lured Isaac from under the bed, he always came back to one moment. The moment he opened the door that Ethan directed him to. "We believe Derek’s alive. He’s locked himself up in there." And Stiles would follow the point of his finger.