The next time he woke up he almost panicked, because he was staring at white, but he blinked and a perfectly ordinary hospital ceiling came in to focus. The first thing he noticed after that was there was a hand in each of his, on one side Scott and on the other his dad.

"Hey," he said feeling woozy, but actually somewhat better than the morning.

"Hey there, kid," his dad said, smiling at him, "how are you feeling?"

At least the lines of worry eased a little on his dad's face seeing he was awake.

"Like road kill," he replied, "but better. Did I really faint in front of Finstock?"

He was probably never living that down.

"Yeah," Scott said looking him over with the anxious little frown, "according to what Isaac heard after they carted you off, you went down like a felled tree."

"And do the great minds of the medical profession have any idea why I did that?" he asked, hoping that maybe there was a perfectly rational explanation.

Scott and his dad shared a look.

"They've done lots of tests," his dad told him, "but so far they can only find symptoms. You're exhausted and undernourished."

"But I eat all the time," he protested, because that didn't make any sense.

"Son," his dad said in a very serious tone, "is there anything you'd like to tell us?"

"Like what?" he asked genuinely not getting it.

"Have you been eating, really?" his dad asked.

Then he got it.

"Yes," he said emphatically, "I have been eating and I have not been doing anything like throwing it up. I do not have an eating disorder, I just can't sleep properly."

"Stiles," his dad said in a gentle, but firm tone, "your symptoms aren't for insomnia."

"That's because it's not insomnia," he said, finally giving in to the reality that something had to be going on, "I sleep here, but I wake up somewhere else. The white place, where we went," he explained and looked at Scott. "There's a white wolf and a black one too now and every time I try to sleep I end up there. Except this time," he added, not sure what that meant.

"How long has this been going on?" his dad asked.

"About a week," he replied. "I've been having dreams ever since that night," they both knew what he was talking about so he didn't have to specify, "but it wasn't bad until this week. I tried to ignore it."

Both Scott and his dad gave him The Look for that.

"This sounds like it's nemeton related," Scott said, standing up and pulling out his phone. "I'll give Deaton a call, see what he says."

Stiles just nodded and Scott quickly exited the room to make the phone call.

"Hey, kid," his dad said, reaching up and smoothing his hair back from his face for him as if he was six again, "do you think you can sleep some more? You look like you need it."

"I'll try," he said, because he was still wiped out.

"I'll be right here," his dad promised him as he closed his eyes.

It didn't take long, he was that exhausted and his body and mind were more than happy to succumb to sleep.

He woke up curled next to the white wolf and this time he couldn't help it, he buried his face in its fur and cried.

~*~

"Stiles, you need to wake up now."

He didn't want to move. At least the wolf's fur was soft and it seemed content to just let him lay there. How long it had been he had no idea, but he'd stopped crying a while ago and now he felt kind of empty.

"Please, Stiles, everyone is worried."

He ignored the request.

Something touched his arm and he felt like he had been connected to a battery. His nerves crackled and it hurt. He woke up gasping to find his hospital room full of people. Allison, Lydia, Isaac, Ethan, Aiden and Scott were all there, all holding hands in a semi-circle with Deaton inside it and his dad and Scott's mom standing off to one side. Scott had a hand on his arm and he realised what had woken him.

"I'm sorry we had to do it that way," Deaton said, "but you were not responding."

"There again," he said feeling utterly drained.

"And being pulled back there time and again is draining you mentally and physically," Deaton said, "so we had better find out why this is happening."

If he had had the energy, Stiles would have laughed; that was kind of obvious.

"Thank you everyone," Deaton said, turning and smiling at all the worried faces, "you have been most helpful, but if you would now mind waiting outside. Scott, please stay, I believe you are acting as a partial ground to Stiles, and, of course, you Sheriff."

"See you soon, Stiles," Allison said and gave him a smile as everyone filed out.

"What was that all about?" Stiles asked once they had gone.

"You were very far away," Deaton told him, coming round the side of the bed now, "and you energies were very low. Your pack leant you theirs to bring you back."

Not long ago Stiles probably would have questioned at least some of that statement, but he had seen so much recently he just accepted it.

"Okay," he said. "What now?"

"Now I would like you to tell me exactly what you see when you are pulled onto the other plane," Deaton said, giving him a small smile of support. "Scott mentioned you were seeing wolves, can you describe them to me?"

That at least was easy.

"It's mostly one," he said, remembering the soft feel of its fur; "it's huge and white and it has white eyes ringed in red. When I first started dreaming it was far away, but now it's right beside me."

"And what else do you see?" Deaton asked.

"I'm always on this platform," he replied, "and it's surrounded by a black moat; it looks like tar. I touched it once and my hand just went straight through it as if it was nothing; it was like reaching into space. I can see the nemeton as well, but it's a long way away and there used to be walls, but now it's just white forever. Just before I collapsed at school I saw another wolf, it was black and a long way away too. It felt familiar though."

Deaton was looking at him in a way that made him a little uncomfortable.

"You know what it means, don't you?" he said.