Donovan was dead and the words Stiles had written on the board had only served to drill that fact further into his being, intensifying his guilt, his anxiety, his fear. Stiles had killed Donovan and the words were right there in plain view for anyone to walk in and see.

Although, there was another scenario. However improbable it was, someone might not have taken Donovan's body. The man could have walked out by himself somehow, and as much as Stiles feared Donovan coming after him and his dad, it would make this situation much easier.

The words staring him dead in the face were reminders he didn't need that this was a situation that couldn't be easily fixed—if it could be fixed at all.

Stiles had most likely killed someone. What would his dad say? And Lydia? And Scott?

All he wanted to do right now was run away to Scott's and find his best friend and tell him everything that happened. But he couldn't do that. Scott was a good person, someone who always tried to save everyone and anyone who could be saved. What would he say if he found out Stiles had done the opposite. Had killed someone Scott was trying to save?

Struggling to pull in enough oxygen, Stiles stared at his own writing a second longer before he decided he couldn't take it any longer. He picked up the eraser and scrubbed at the words, focusing most of his shuddering energy on the words "Donovan" and "dead", desperate to erase them from both his board and his mind.

When the words didn't come off fast enough, Stiles yelled out in frustration, throwing the eraser at the board in an attempt to quell his rising anxiety. This didn't feel right. He felt nauseous and he was barely pulling in enough air. It was like he was right at the edge of the cliff staring into the abyss of panic and fear, and if he fell, he was going to fall right into a panic attack and there was no one around to pull him out of it.

In an attempt to calm himself down, Stiles rested his head on the board—only cringing slightly when his shoulder twinged where Donovan had bitten him—and tried to take deeper, slower breaths. Working himself into a panic wouldn't help anybody. He needed to think about this clearly and wouldn't be able to do that if he was on his was to unconsciousness.

The vibrating of his phone startled Stiles, his nerves still on edge from his anxiety and fear. None of it had faded just yet. He still felt like the moment he turned around, Donovan would be standing there ready to attack him, and Stiles didn't think the next time they clashed—if Donovan was actually still alive—Stiles would be making it out in one piece.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Stiles pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the caller ID. His anxiety levels shot up the moment he saw the name.

It was Scott.

With trembling hands, Stiles answered the phone, turning away from his board in hopes that looking at it would give him a reprieve from thinking about this whole situation.

"Scott?" Stiles asked shakily, trying to keep himself from sounding like he did all those months ago when he had been sleepwalking and slowly freezing to death. He didn't think he achieved that. Luckily, Scott didn't seem to notice.

"Stiles!" Scott exclaimed from the other side of the line and in an instant, Stiles knew something was wrong. It was Scott's next statement, though, that shook Stiles to the core. "Someone's taking the bodies."

Stiles froze, his lungs tight in his chest and unable to draw any air. If what Scott was saying was true, then that meant….

Oh god. Stiles had killed Donovan and someone had taken his body in between the time it took for Stiles to vacate the library to the moment the police officer checked out the school in response to his 911 call. That meant Stiles was guilty of murder and they had a body snatcher on their hands.

Stiles ran his left hand through his hair, ruffling it. This couldn't be true. This couldn't be true. If it was true, and Donovan was dead, then that meant the Stiles' hands had shed blood once again. And this time, it was with his own mind in control.

And that made everything so much worse.

"Stiles, you there?" Scott asked, sounding vaguely concerned.

Right, Scott was talking about bodies being stolen. And he probably hadn't meant Donovan's.

"Yeah," Stiles said, still trying to keep his voice from shaking too much. "Uh, yeah, um. Where- What are you talking about?"

"I'm at the animal clinic with Kira," Scott explained, his words slightly rushed and out of breath. "Tracy's body is gone. The lock on the door was broken from the outside. My mom told me Lucas' body is missing from the morgue. They're searching the whole hospital for him. Someone's stealing the bodies."

Stiles closed his eyes, running his hand down his face in an attempt to ground himself. He felt too heavy. Too burdened with a weight that shouldn't have been on a seventeen year old boy's shoulders. It may have been in self-defense, but Stiles had killed Donovan and now someone was taking the bodies.

This was hell. It was like his mind was going in circles, always circling back to two facts.

Stiles killed Donovan.

Someone was stealing the bodies.

"Stiles!" Scott yelled out again, sounding more and more frantic as the seconds ticked on and Stiles didn't answer him. Stiles bit his lip before letting out a puff of air. He could do this. It was just Scott. He wouldn't even have to mention Donovan and Stiles wouldn't have to hear how disappointed Scott was in him.

"I'm here," Stiles said, slightly breathless.

Silence wasn't his forte. He usually talked and talked Scott's ear off with theories and sarcasm at this point. This is where Stiles was supposed to step in and support Scott, help his best friend make a decision on what to do. Scott needed him. He couldn't afford to freak out about anything right now.

"What's going on with you, man?" Scott asked, and Stiles could hear the frown in his voice.

"Nothing," Stiles said, maybe a little too forcefully. But it didn't matter. Scott needed to focus on one problem at a time. "Does- Deaton doesn't have security cameras, does he?"

"No. But the alarm was tripped on my phone when whoever it was broke in."

Stiles grimaced. Well that didn't help anything. It just informed the owner that there was a break in and there wasn't a thing they could do about it but call the police, who would probably arrive just in time to miss the burglar.

"So we don't even have a clue on who's doing this?" Stiles asked.

"There's nothing here, Stiles," Scott said, his anxious voice stabbing into Stiles chest painfully. "The body's just...gone."

"Okay," Stiles said, starting to pace his room. He could figure this out. There was little to nothing to work with, but Stiles had to figure this out. If he didn't, then who would? Nobody else thought the way Stiles did—a lesson Stiles learned the hard way—so for his friends' sakes, he had to figure this out. "Okay, okay, are we sure it's not whoever is making these…chimeras? Couldn't that be who's taking the bodies? "

"Maybe," Scott said, though he sounded unsure. "It's something we're all going to have to look into."

Right. This wasn't just a Scott and Stiles problem anymore. They had people to rely on this time around. Stiles wasn't the only one who was good at figuring all of this out. Lydia was a genius in her own right and Malia could sometimes look at things in a different way, seeing things from a perspective no one else saw. It wasn't just Stiles.

But while Stiles wasn't alone on his journey to find answers, he had never felt more alone then he did now, even talking to Scott on the phone and knowing that his friends were out there trying to get to the bottom of things. His shoulders were weighed down with a secret no one could know about. With something that would separate him from the others for the rest of his life. Something that would separate him from Scott for the rest of his life.

And it was all coming back full circle again. Any time he would try to think, it just came back to the two facts.

Stiles killed Donovan.

Someone was stealing the bodies.

"You're freaking me out, dude," Scott said into the phone. Stiles, unaware he had been spacing out, jerked at the sudden voice right next to his ear. He flinched and dropped the phone. It landed with a muffled thump as it landed on the carpet, and when he had calmed down sufficiently enough to reach out for, Stiles shoulder started protesting. Frustrated, Stiles snatched the phone up with his left hand and plopped onto his bed, covering his eyes with his free hand.

"-iles. Stiles. Stiles!" Scott was yelling. Stiles didn't even need to put the phone to his ear to hear Scott frantically trying to get his attention. "Stiles! Come on, man! Answer me!"

"Scott," Stiles said, sounding too much little a scared, lost little boy for his liking. "Scott, I'm fine. I just spaced out for a sec. You started talking again and I freaked out like a little girl. Don't tell Kira," Stiles added as an afterthought.

There was silence from Scott's side for a moment, and when the moment seemed to drag out into eternity, Stiles held his breath and didn't let it out until he heard Scott's determined voice sound out again.

"I'm coming over there."

Stiles' mind went blank and his free hand moved from his eyes to rest gently on his injured shoulder. There world was blissfully quiet for all of three seconds before something in him violently revolted. He was on his feet in an instant, fear and anxiety roaring in his ears.

"No!" Stiles exclaimed breathlessly. "No, I'm fine. It's way late and I just-"

"Stiles." Scott's voice was hard and determined, and Stiles knew that his best friend had made up his mind. "I'm going to drop Kira off and then I'll be over there as soon as I can."

"Scott!" Stiles protested. "I'm not a kid-"

"You've spaced out three times in the past five minutes," Scott reminded him.

Stiles closed his eyes and groaned at his own stupidity. He couldn't face Scott right now. Not right now. Not when the demons of fear and guilt were tearing away at him. This wasn't something he could keep from Scott while he was so open and vulnerable. Scott would see right through him. They had been friends too long for Scott not to notice something was wrong, and he should have known.

"Is something wrong?" Scott asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Are you okay? I know Lydia being in the hospital is hitting you pretty hard, but you know she's out of the ICU, right?"

Oh god, Scott thought this was about Lydia. He thought that Stiles was too overwhelmed with everything that was going on and that Lydia had been the final straw. Scott thought he was losing it over Lydia when in truth Stiles had completely forgotten about the strawberry blonde being in the hospital. And if he hadn't felt like a horrible human being before, he sure did now.

"I'm fine, Scott," Stiles tried to reassure his best friend, but even he could hear how dull and flat his voice was. "Scott, just- I'm fine, okay? I'm fine."

He could tell just by Scott's sigh that the werewolf didn't believe him. Honestly, Stiles wouldn't have believed himself, either. "I'm still coming over," Scott told him. "I'll be there soon."

And then Scott hung up and Stiles was left with an angry dial tone ringing in his ears. His mind immediately circled back to the facts in an attempt to keep Stiles from spiraling into a panic attack.

Stiles had killed Donovan.

Someone was taking the bodies.

But a new fact was adding itself right into place next to the other two.

Stiles was about to lose his best friend.

Hello! So, this is my first attempt at a Teen Wolf fanfic. I hope you liked it. Ever since episode 9 of season 5, I've been dying of Scott and Stiles feels and I needed something to make me feel better. So, this is like a "what I wish had happened" fic. So, canon divergence. Anyways, there will be a part two! I'm currently working on that right now. Thanks for reading. Please review and tell me what you thought.