She was right.

I was going to do it.

I was going to end my life. In a god-forsaken hotel.

Jesus fuck what am I doing? Is this the right thing?

I stared at Stiles in the broken mirror, an evil grin on his face.

"Just think about it." He grabbed my face, forcing me to stop looking at the reflection but now himself. "You'd finally be with Jeremy. And your parents. You wouldn't be alone anymore in a giant... empty house."

"I'd see Jeremy?" I asked, a glint of hope creeping it's way into my broken heart. Stiles nodded, that grin still on his face.

"But what about—"

"They'll get over it. They haven't known you that long. Sure, the real Stiles will take longer than the rest, but eventually... they'll all forget about you." He turned me towards the shattered mirror once more.

The banging on the door only got louder, and by now I could smell fear and despair, coated over Stiles.

"Can—Can I say goodbye?" I stammered, and the grip on my shoulders tightened.

"Some people don't get to say goodbye to their loved ones." His voice rang in my ears, and I watched as he slowly brought the glass shard in my hand towards my throat.

"All of that pain. All of that suffering you had to go through this year... it can be gone. In one... swipe." The pain that I'd usually feel Al when something was pressed into my body wasn't there, and suddenly, I wasn't afraid to die.

I didn't feel anything. Just the happiness I knew I'd get if I saw my brother again.

"Don't to this to me, Dean. I can't lose you." I heard Stiles cry from outside the bathroom, and it almost shook me out of this hypnosis.

"Ignore him." The Stiles in this bathroom whispered. "This is simply a means to an end. Once it's over.. you'll be free of all of this."

I dug the glass deeper into my throat, watching as blood slowly started trickling down my neck.

You can't do this.

He will never get over this. Jeremy wouldn't want this.

I ignored the yelling in my head. Outside this small room.

But what really startled me was when I was knocked down into the shower, slamming my head into something hot. I groaned in pain, shutting my eyes tightly.

When I opened them again, I looked down at the glass in Stiles hand. His hand started to bleed as my neck began to heal.

I just looked around in confusion. "What—? What happened? Why are we in a bathtub?" I asked as Stiles lifted me out of the tub, dropping the glass and flare as he brought me into the tightest hug he could give me."uh... hello to you too?"

"It's this motel." Lydia spoke as she walked over, handing Stiles a newspaper, my eyes shooting open to look at her. She had a tear trickling down her face, which she quickly wiped away.

"19-year-old dies from suicide attempt. Glass through the neck." Stiles read as i frowned again.

"Did something happen?" I asked as Stiles, Allison and Lydia all looked at me like I was insane.

"You just tried to kill yourself, Dean. By stabbing yourself. In the neck.. With glass." Stiles voice shook as I gasped quietly, as if that was the biggest turn of events.

"We need to get everyone that's supernatural out of here... now." Lydia ordered as I paused.

"Do you guys hear that?" I asked, and they all fell silent. "That sounds like—"

"A handsaw." Allison muttered as we all ran to the room several doors from where Stiles, Scott and I were staying. I opened the door quickly, eyes widening in fear.

"Ethan no!" I tackled him down the ground as Stiles turned off the saw, Ethan's hand gripping the heater. Ethan yelled in pain before pausing, and looked around in confusion.

"What just happened?" Ethan asked before raising a brow at me. "Whaaat are you doing?"

I quickly hopped off of him as he stood up, dusting himself off. "You just tried to uh... turn yourself into a triplet." I clicked my tongue as he frowned.

"What?"

"You tried to kill yourself, dude. But hey! We saved your life." Stiles interrupted as Ethan sighed.

"And you probably shouldn't have." Now it had been my turn to frown. Why was everyone frowning?

"What now?" Lydia asked as we all stood there in silence for a few seconds.

"I'll go find Scott. You guys get Isaac and Boyd." Allison ran out of the hotel room as Ethan walked out to find one of the two.

"I'm going to go find Isaac." I spoke, leaving Stiles and Lydia to find my friend.

After a few minutes of searching I sighed, starting to turn back around.

"He's blocked the drain!"

I spun around as I heard Stiles yell, running to where I had heard water running.

I burst through Isaac and Boyd's room, seeing someone move under a bed, and Lydia panicking as Stiles tried moving a safe off of Boyd, who was currently drowning himself.

"Outta the way!" I yelled as Stiles fell back, and I lifted the safe off of Boyd. But even when I tried to yank him from under, he didn't budge.

My mind fell blank for a moment before I looked at Lydia. "Heat! We need something hot. Do you have a uh... a lighter? Or something that can heat up really fast?!"

"No— but the bus has flares!" Lydia mentioned as I waved my hands.

"Well then somebody go grab them!" Lydia dashed out of the motel room as I continued attempting to pull Boyd out from under the water. "Jesus, what did your parents feed you as a baby?!"

Lydia returned with two flares, and I quickly snatched and lit it, dunking it in front of Boyd's face.

He quickly snapped out of the trance, jumping out of the water as I took the second glare, walking over to the bed I had seen movement under.

I knelt down, seeing Isaac curled up against the wall, trembling with fear. His eyes met mine for a moment before I tossed the flare at him.

Now, we had to find Scott.

𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎

The smell of gasoline was what made me run outside, seeing Allison standing in front of a drenched Scott, who held a flare and stood awkwardly.

"There's no hope." Scott whispered as Allison frowned at him, everyone walking to stand next to her.

"What do you mean, Scott? There's always hope." Allison tried to smile, but Scott shook his head.

"Not for me. Not for Derek."

"You can't blame yourself for that, Scott. Derek's death wasn't on you." I chimed in, but once again, Scott shook his head.

"Every time I try to fight back, it just gets worse. People get hurt. People keep getting hurt." Scott cried as Stiles stepped forward, my body tensing with nerves.

Everything that happened next was practically a blur. Stiles talking Scott out of lighting himself up. The two hugging, not noticing the flare blow back to the gasoline. Lydia and I tackling Scott and Stiles before we could be burnt to a flaming crisp.

And the last thing I saw, in the fire, was a mangled face. And standing below that mangled face, barely noticeable.

Was Jeremy.