[ to clarify on some comments regarding scott, malia, and lydia's initial attitude toward forgetting willow: she has moved away from beacon hills. it's been over half a year. so naturally, they are already accustomed to life without her. it's not the same as having the routine of meeting stiles at his locker or working on his lacrosse shots with him. that is why they aren't as sure how important she was to them - it's not because they love her less than she loves them. they don't really remember stiles either, and convince themselves a few times he never was real (except for lydia but don't get me started on that. i love stydia but scott should've been the one to fight so hard to remember stiles and be the one whose memories brought him back). but just, like, don't be too hard on them, ya know? they'll feel guilty enough when she gets back and they have to tell her they forgot her for six whole months

anyway, this chapter is super long it's 10k+ so enjoy it. school is really piling up so it might be about a week until the next update ]

☽︎

scott was the first person i called. i thought he could save me.

[ 6.05 ]

Stiles Stilinski was in a train station. One moment, everything felt fine as he stared ahead at a wall, and the next, he was struggling to remember why he was in a train station to begin with.

He glanced to his right and saw a doctor he'd seen a handful of times at the hospital with a name tag that read 'Dr. Hugo.' When she didn't notice him watching, he continued to examine the gloomy, dimly lit station that he didn't recall arriving at.

The waiting area was full, but no one was talking or making a sound. Everyone just stared forward silently. There was no one buying tickets - though the ticket booth was empty anyway.

Stiles then felt the weight of something in his hand and looked down to see his keys to the Jeep. Why was he waiting for a train when he could just drive himself somewhere?

Finally, he leaned in and whispered to the woman next to him. "Excuse me, sorry, where are we?"

Dr. Hugo raised an eyebrow, thinking he was stupid for asking that. "We're at the train station."

"Right. Okay. Helpful," he muttered, resisting his usual urge to snap. "Which train station, exactly?"

"Train station number one-thirty-seven," she said while looking across the room and at the sign over the board displaying the arrival times.

"Did you see me come in?" he questioned, trying to find that missing memory.

She only shook her head. "No."

"How long have you been here?"

"Maybe an hour?" she guessed.

But then the man to her right in a suit and pair of glasses chimed in, not taking his eyes off his paper. "We got here at the same time. It's been at least six hours."

"Six hours?" Stiles asked in confusion. How'd Dr. Hugo mistaken six hours for one? "Where are you goin'?"

Dr. Hugo couldn't seem to think of an answer right away as she glanced at the other man who couldn't reply either. Then she began digging in her pockets, coming up empty as she did. "Uh... uh, I had a ticket with me somewhere, um..."

Stiles eyed her scrubs and white coat that she still wore. "You always travel in your work clothes?"

She frowned, seemingly just now noticing her own attire. "I must have been in a rush."

Figuring the confused woman was a lost cause, Stiles left his seat and began exploring on his own, hoping to find answers somewhere else. He went straight to the empty ticket booth, peering at the 'Back in 5 Minutes' sign that was in the window. However, the thick layer of dust on the counter told him it'd been a lot longer than five minutes.

"Do you know if anyone works here?" Stiles asked no one in particular.

Technically, he supposed his question was answered as the PA system crackled and someone made an announcement. "The following stops have been canceled - Hollatine, Batten, Baybury, Deer Ridge, Red Oak."

As more towns were listed, all those in the waiting area got up from their seats. Stiles watched them all, his confusion growing as he was ignored.

"Excuse me, where are those trains going? Excuse me, do you know what train this is?"

It didn't matter who Stiles tried to speak to, no one looked his way. They all just crowded around a large opening to a dark tunnel. Above it was a sign indicating that the trains were down that way.

"Does anyone know where this train's going?" Stiles continued to ask pointlessly. "Excuse me, do you know what train this is? Do you know where this train's going?"

Once Stiles made his way to the front of the crowd that was acting like they couldn't see him, he continued to look into the dark tunnel, unable to make anything out. But then the wind began to blow, swirling leaves around - how was the wind blowing if they were inside?

Then the sound of horses running and neighing hit their ears. The Ghost Riders came then, appearing out of the darkness and running right toward them all. Finally, the people acted rationally as they screamed and ran, hiding behind the benches.

Stiles just slowly backed away, unable to take his eyes off the three Ghost Riders that ran out of the tunnel. When someone was in their way, they'd just smack them with their whips or run over them on their horses.

One of the riders was holding a man but threw him harshly to the ground. Before Stiles' eyes, the ropes around his wrists and ankles disappeared in a puff of green smoke. Then the Ghost Riders barreled forward, one headed right for Stiles, who wasn't moving quickly enough.

Suddenly, someone grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back, pushing him up against a pillar to keep him away from the Ghost Riders, who turned back around to leave the tunnel. Stiles looked at his savior in surprise.

Peter Hale didn't look too happy to see him, either. "It had to be you," he grumbled.

Then someone with softer hands was touching Stiles' arm, drawing his attention to her. "Stiles, are you okay? You have to be more careful," Willow said, looking him over for injuries.

Stiles gaped at the two for a moment as silence settled over the waiting area once more. One by one, everyone began returning to their previous seats, acting like all that didn't just happen - Peter and Willow included.

"Willow?" Stiles called, going after her. "Willow, Peter? What are you doing here? How are you here?"

As Willow sat down, smoothing her white skirt underneath her, Peter looked at Stiles like he was a moron. "What do you mean, how am I here? I'm here. You are here. We are all here. Now, get the hell away from me, Stiles," he complained while sitting down.

Stiles huffed and looked at Willow, who was just staring ahead. Then he glanced around and saw everyone doing the same. "Peter. Willow! What are you doing?"

"I'm waiting for my train," Peter said in a 'duh' tone.

"You can wait with us," Willow said, smiling up at Stiles. She reached for his hand. "It's been kind of boring."

Stiles squeezed Willow's hand, almost like he was checking to see if she was really there. Because for the last few months, she hadn't been. "Okay, did you two not just see that?"

"See what?" Peter asked while Willow just tilted her head in confusion.

"The horses, the hogtied businessmen with the magically dissolving ropes?" Stiles asked in disbelief. Something shifted on their faces as Peter and Willow glanced around their surroundings uncomfortably. Stiles began to shout then, frustrated with whatever the hell was happening. "I'm sorry, did anyone just see that?"

"You mind?" Peter asked defensively. "You're blocking the board. I'd like a little warning before my train arrives."

Stiles glanced over his shoulder at the arrival board for only a second. "Okay. So, you're waiting for a train. How did you get here?"

"Pretty sure I took a cab," Peter said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, I took a cab from the airport..." Willow trailed off then, her mind clouding with a hazy memory. "Airport," she whispered.

Stiles glanced between Peter and Willow. "Peter, the last time I saw you, you were running with your tail between your legs from the Desert Wolf. And Willow, you... you were coming back."

"I was coming back," Willow mumbled, her eyes traveling to the floor.

It all came back then. The horrible storm on the ride to Stiles' house, who was meant to pick her up. Hearing the spurs of the men on horses as they appeared in the rain. Calling Scott for help, only for him to act like he had no clue who she was. Running for her life only to end up falling and getting shot.

But there was no memory of ending up in this train station.

"Stiles," Willow said, her voice shaking. Tears welled in her eyes. "How long have I been here?"

Stiles looked at his hands in shame. "That night you were coming back - the night I was supposed to pick you up - that was three months ago."

"I've been missing for three months?" she whispered, letting the tears fall. "You're only just now coming for me?"

As Stiles took a seat on the bench, she realized the truth, seeing the guilt on his face. He hadn't come for her. He just happened to get taken, too.

"You forgot about me?" Willow asked, taking a step back from him

"That's what the Ghost Riders do, Will," Stiles said, looking up at her apologetically. "They erase you. I'm so sorry."

It was different for Willow, even if Stiles wasn't aware that his friends were noticing his absence in their lives. Willow moved away - they were already accustomed to a life without her. Erasing her didn't take much effort at all from those of the Wild Hunt.

"Ghost Riders?" Peter questioned, a deep frown on his face. He looked worried, and not much worried him. "Ghost Riders of the Wild Hunt?"

"Yeah, you know what I'm talking about?" Stiles asked, peering at him.

Peter sighed heavily. "Of course, I know what you're talking about. They ride the lightning. They are an unstoppable force of nature. And, I promise you, they don't make pit stops in train stations." He then glanced up and made eye contact with an ancient-looking woman that smiled at him. "Suddenly, I wish Scott had locked me up in Eichen House. It's better than this prison that looks like the underground lair of a depressed bureaucrat."

"Well, c'mon," Willow said, wiping her eyes. She couldn't let herself wallow on being forgotten - not yet at least. "There has to be a way out of this place. There's three of us. We can figure it out."

Stiles nodded along, knowing they had to figure something out. "Have you tried looking around? Have you talked to anyone who knows anything?"

"If this is the Wild Hunt, there is no escape. We all are doomed to ride the storm forever," Peter said, remaining seated. He lost all his hope before even having some to begin with.

"Yeah, we're not in the storm, we're in a train station," Stiles mumbled. "But we can get out of a train station."

"We can't get out of here, Stiles, because this place isn't real," Peter snapped.

Both Stiles and Willow looked at him in confusion. "What are you talking about?" he asked him.

"Beacon Hills doesn't have a train station."

☽

Willow was spiraling. She couldn't help it. After all, there was no appropriate way to react when you find out that you've been erased from existence. That everyone you know and love forgot you. That they went three months - at the least, given how odd time moved in this train station - not missing her each day.

If Stiles hadn't snapped out of his trance by some miracle, they'd all just stay there, stuck until they disappeared completely.

While Willow was spiraling in the corner and trying to breathe evenly, Peter was being no help while perched on a chair against the wall. Stiles was the only one being productive as he tried to pull open a set of double doors to find a way out. However, there were chains around the handles, keeping them locked in.

"What are you doing?" Peter finally asked Stiles, raising an eyebrow lazily.

Stiles glared at him. "Little help, please?" he asked. Then he glanced at Willow, who was taking deep breaths and running her hands through her hair. Willow didn't freak out as easily as she used to, but he was worried she'd start sobbing if they didn't figure something out. "Or calm her down. I'll take either."

Peter rolled his eyes and got off his raised chair with a little hop. All he did was walk to the doors and rip the chain right off with his werewolf strength, looking at Stiles smugly as he did so.

"Okay," Stiles muttered a bit sarcastically. Then he walked through the doors to see what else he could find.

When Willow heard doors flying open, she looked up to see Stiles just a few feet away, having burst through a set of previously locked doors. He looked at them in confusion, as only a second passed before he was led there.

"What the hell?" he asked, eying the doors.

Stiles walked quickly back to Willow and Peter, not stopping as he went through the doors again. And again, he came out just a few feet back, unable to exit the waiting area at all.

Seeming more determined, Stiles began running toward the door.

"No, no, no, keep going," Peter said, refraining from rolling his eyes.

"I don't see you comin' up with anything," Stiles snapped at him.

Peter lowered his voice, pulling Willow to his side as he did. He also pointedly turned his back to the rest of the waiting room. "Stiles, left shoulder, against the pillar. Don't look."

Naturally, Stiles looked. Willow pinched his arm, making him quickly look back at them. "He said not to look!" she whispered quietly, ignoring her own urge to look.

Stiles held back a scoff. "Forgot how you always take his side," he muttered. But guilt washed over him when Willow's face dropped.

They had forgotten her. Even if it wasn't their fault, it didn't make it hurt any less.

"He's watching us," Peter then warned.

"So?" Stiles asked him, not getting the point.

"Sti, it's like we've been invisible to everyone else," Willow reminded him.

"Exactly," Peter agreed. "Every person in this station is either comatose or catatonic. He seems very interested in keeping an eye on us."

Realizing he was right, Stiles turned pointedly toward the boy watching them. Unknowingly, he was the same person Lydia saw before trying to peel back the wallpaper in the Stilinski house that led to Stiles' forgotten room. Trent was taken just like everyone else.

As soon as Trent realized Stiles was heading for him, he slid around to the other side of the pillar, not wanting to be caught.

"Hey!" he shouted, running after him. Stiles quickly changed directions only to run right into Peter, who got there faster and cut Trent off before he could get away. "Oh, my God!"

"Why are you watching us?" Peter asked, narrowing his eyes at the boy. He also made sure to keep Willow hidden behind his larger frame. Trent didn't look like much, but he wanted to be cautious.

"You tried the doors," Trent said, chuckling a little. "Nobody ever tries the doors."

"Have you tried them?" Willow asked quietly. She wasn't sure if it was a good thing or bad that this boy was aware of their surroundings as well.

"The ones that I could open. I've tried everything else," he told her.

"Not everything. You're still here," Peter pointed out.

"Yeah, it seems like you got some kind of a plan. So, why don't you tell us about it?" Stiles asked while studying him.

"I can tell you. Doesn't mean you can do it," he said doubtfully.

Stiles scoffed and glanced at Peter and Willow, all sharing a somewhat amused look. There was very little that their pack couldn't do - even if Peter wasn't really in the pack and Stiles was human.

"Oh, we - we can do it. He can," Stiles informed Trent confidently.

"Well, it's right in front of your face," Trent said, turning to face the tunnel. "You didn't see it, did you?"

Willow hadn't been aware enough to see the green flash that accompanied the arrival of the Ghost Riders, but Stiles did. He knew there was some kind of portal or opening down that tunnel that allowed those in the Wild Hunt to come through.

"I saw it."

"Then why'd you waste so much time running through the doors?" Trent asked. He didn't even really give Stiles time to answer as he continued. "I'll tell you why - because it's all part of the illusion. You're afraid, and they want you to be afraid."

"Great," Willow mumbled while wrapping her arms around herself. "Not like I live in a constant state of fear half the time already."

"I'm not afraid," Peter declared, stalking toward the tunnel.

The others followed after him, all stopping right at the entrance. It was so dark that they couldn't even see how long the tunnel went. And not knowing didn't bring them any comfort.

"Can't do it, can you?" Trent asked, eying Peter who was impossibly still. He leaned in to tell Stiles and Willow. "He can't do it."

"He can too!" Willow said, ready to defend Peter's bravery.

"We really should kill him," Peter grumbled.

"Or you can just walk through it," Stiles replied tiredly.

Peter was so nervous that he whispered his next words. "Push me."

Stiles leaned in closer to hear him better. "What did you say?"

"Push me!" he exclaimed, unable to move on his own.

Willow stayed back and held her breath as Trent and Stiles both gave Peter a harsh shove. Thankfully, when he crossed the threshold, nothing happened to him.

Clearly, Trent already knew this from the delighted smirk on his face. "Now you're getting it," he said as he walked on ahead of them.

Willow walked in as well, grabbing onto Peter's sleeve for guidance. He had the highest visibility with his werewolf senses. The only one to not step inside was Stiles, who hesitated by the entrance.

"Stiles," Willow said, holding her free hand out to him. "Let's go."

When Stiles still didn't move, Peter rolled his eyes and snatched the front of his shirt, dragging him along against his will. After a few steps, he managed to walk on his own, freeing himself from Peter's grip.

☽

Lydia was sitting next to Scott in their AP biology class, only half paying attention. She couldn't help it when she heard the clanking of a tow truck pulling up in the parking lot just outside. A man was examining a blue-colored Jeep.

The Jeep had been in the parking lot for several weeks, sitting there with no one to move it. For whatever reason, Lydia was only just now noticing it despite sitting by this window each day. And something stirred inside her as she did notice it.

But suddenly, Mrs. Finch was in Lydia's line of sight, giving her a pointed look. "Lydia?"

Lydia hesitated, knowing some kind of open-ended question had been asked. "...I completely agree," she answered a bit pathetically.

Mrs. Finch pointed back at the window. "Is there something outside that's more fascinating than the structure of the human mind?"

"No, I don't think so..." Lydia mumbled, still thinking about the car. Then she managed to focus a little more and respond with a firmer, "No."

"Okay, good," she said, moving back to the front of the class. "Now, many people credit the corpus callosum, uh, for giving us a sense of intuition, gut instinct, that even we ourselves aren't aware-"

The banshee couldn't take it anymore, something in her mind screaming for her to not let the Jeep be taken. She shot up from her seat and rushed out an apology while also rushing from the room. "I'm sorry, I'll be right back."

Scott stood as well, not understanding his friend's behavior. "I'm just gonna check if she's okay," he told Mrs. Finch before following Lydia.

The biology teacher cleared her throat and looked at the rest of the class. "You guys know that classes aren't optional, right?"

Lydia ran as fast as she could to the parking lot, arriving just before the tow truck driver could take away the car that was already on the hook. "Hey! Hey, you can't tow this Jeep!" she said while rushing over.

The driver looked down at the clipboard in his hands. "Paperwork says I can. It was reported as abandoned."

Quickly, Lydia put her hand on the side of the Jeep, claiming it as hers. "And now it's not."

"Oh, this is your vehicle?" he asked with a doubtful expression. She didn't exactly look like the kind to drive a car like that.

"Does it matter?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

The man just chuckled and shook his head. "Sounds like a 'no.'"

"It's mine!" Scott shouted, finally arriving. He practically threw himself on the hood. "Uh, my Jeep. Thank you. I'll move it once I get the keys... from my locker... after you leave."

"I'm sorry," the truck driver said, shaking his head. "Once it's on the hook-"

"Please don't say, 'You're on the hook,'" Lydia finished with a grimace.

He smirked at them. "Well, I can't now," he said, moving to leave.

Scott fumbled for anything he could say to get him to stop. "Oh, I - Okay, look, there's gotta be something that we can do. Sign something? Call someone?"

"Pay someone?" Lydia then suggested in a flat tone.

The tow truck driver grinned brightly. "Drop fee is a hundred and fifty. Cash."

Lydia immediately started digging, but Scott's eyes were blown wide in disbelief. "A hundred and fifty? This thing isn't even worth that much," he whispered to her.

"How much have you got?" Lydia asked him, pulling a wad of cash out of her purse.

Scott eyed her money, unable to believe someone brought that much cash to school each day. "Uh, how much have you got?"

"Just give me your money," Lydia whispered harshly.

Not bothering to hide his annoyance, Scott dug in his pocket and pulled out some crumbled bills with a sigh. "All I have is fifty dollars. And when I say 'all,' I mean-"

Suddenly, a crisp hundred dollar bill and equally as fresh fifty were dropped in the tow truck driver's hand. It was Derek who arrived, overhearing them argue with the man over the crap Jeep.

"Unhook it from the truck and fuck off," Derek ordered with his usual amount of charm.

The tow truck driver looked at him in surprise but did as told, leaving the three to the side.

"Thank god," Scott whispered while shoving his money in his pocket. Then he glanced at Lydia. "Hey, you know I don't actually have the keys to this thing, right?"

"But now we have a Jeep!" Lydia said brightly.

"A shit Jeep," Derek said, glaring at the car. "Why did I buy this?"

"No clue," Lydia admitted, and his expression dropped.

"Why are you here, by the way?" Scott asked him.

He let out a huff through his nose. "How many times do I have to remind you that I literally have nothing better to do? I usually keep close to the school in case something happens."

"You have a cat to take care of," Lydia reminded him with a smirk.

"Where is Wrigg?" Scott asked, using the little nickname he came up with while looking around the parking lot.

Derek could only shrug. "No clue. Lost him an hour ago. Wouldn't put it past him if he snuck into Liam's class."

Lydia peered at him. "Maybe you should find him, then?"

"He can take care of himself," he insisted.

"Well, what's Willow gonna think if you let her cat die while she was gone, huh?" Scott asked, the corners of his lips turning up.

"Not marry you, that's for sure," Lydia added flatly.

"Shit," Derek muttered, knowing they were right. "I'll be back. Try not to let the car get in even worse condition - if that's even possible."

☽

Peter may have acted like a grouch, but that didn't stop him from keeping Willow tucked into his side protectively with each step deeper into the tunnel. Soon, the flat ground transitioned into tracks while sloping downward. Thankfully, no Ghost Riders came across them.

And finally, the tunnel ended, revealing another waiting area. Except this one had no lights or people, completely abandoned.

"Congratulations," Peter said mockingly. "You found another part of the phantom train station."

"Is this the way out?" Stiles asked Trent.

"If it was, we would be leaving," Peter said snarkily. Willow silently nodded as well - if it were the way out, Trent wouldn't be here with them.

"You might want to stay off the tracks, 'cause that's the way in and out," Trent then told them, pointing up ahead.

It looked similar to another tunnel, but this one wasn't quite as dark. There was a thick sort of fog, keeping them from seeing past it. And then they heard the sound of horses whinnying, meaning they wouldn't be alone for long.

"They're coming," Trent warned.

All of them moved quickly, hopping up on the ledge separating the platform from the tracks. When Willow struggled to get up there given that the wall was taller than she was, Stiles reached down to pull her up. Then they all hid behind one of the large pillars.

There were three of the Ghost Riders, each of them appearing out of nowhere. Green light flashed around the odd portal that they emerged from before disappearing. They all rode past without noticing the four people hiding out of sight.

"That's the way out?" Peter asked, beginning to freak out as he looked toward where the portal appeared. "How in the hell are we supposed to do that?"

"We jump," Trent stated.

"Jump?" Willow asked, her eyebrows raising. "On the horses going through the scary, glowing dimensional tear?"

"Yeah, is that all?" Peter asked sarcastically.

Trent looked between them all frantically. "I've been timing it. Look, we can jump from here just before they go out."

"I think you're confusing your pronouns - we aren't going to do anything, but you should absolutely give that a shot," he replied, rolling his eyes.

"Do you not wanna get out of here?"

"We want to get out alive, okay? How do you know this works?" Stiles questioned. "Seems like a lot could go wrong."

"Look, I can't stay here," Trent told them. "I'm losing my mind in this place."

"I think you have an excellent grasp of the situation. I say, go for it," Peter said with a smirk.

Stiles looked at him, annoyed by his lack of help. "Peter-"

"Hey, they're coming back!" Trent hissed when they suddenly heard the horses again, getting ready to leave.

Trent didn't wait for the others before he ran to a different pillar, one right by the exit. Peter grabbed Willow's wrist and pulled her back behind their previous column, and Stiles ended up beside them as well, not wanting to try Trent's plan.

"No, we can't let him do this, right?" Stiles asked, looking at Peter.

"What if he's right?" Peter asked, knowing someone had to test the theory. He certainly wasn't going to let it be him.

Stiles looked at Trent worriedly. "Hey, we'll figure something else out. Hey, look, there's gotta be another way out of this place," he tried to reason.

"But there isn't. I've been looking for months. Are you comin' or not?" Trent asked them, looking down the tunnel where he saw the Ghost Riders coming.

Peter gave an unhelpful thumbs up. "It's all you."

In a last effort to save Trent, Stiles tried to run over and stop him, but Peter grabbed him and held him back. No, Willow didn't want to see Trent die but she didn't want to risk Stiles dying either, so she didn't try to free Stiles.

"Let him try," Peter insisted.

The riders finally reached them, and as the last one passed him, Trent jumped off the ledge. He managed to land on the back of one of the horses though he struggled to stay on.

"Come on. Come on," Peter said under his breath, desperate for a way out of this place.

All of them held their breath as the Ghost Riders reached the exit, and that green portal appeared and opened up. When the one Trent was on went through, the human was thrown back from the force, not strong enough to hold on.

It wouldn't have mattered if he could hold on anyway. Trent was screaming before he even hit the ground, writhing in pain as he did. Before their eyes, his entire body disintegrated and disappeared in a cloud of green mist.

Willow had closed her eyes and hid her face in Stiles' chest, unable to stomach the horrible sight.

"Somehow, I don't think that went the way he was hoping," Peter muttered, his eyes wide.

Stiles then moved forward, bringing Willow along with him. They were heading to the spot Trent was. There was nothing left - not a single sign of the now completely-erased boy.

"Stiles, he's dead," Peter said as Stiles and Willow jumped down to the tracks. "You see his face? Trust me, Willow, he's gone.

"You knew he'd die," Stiles said accusingly.

"I didn't know!" he insisted. Then he shrugged. "I mean, I assumed."

The two turned back around to face him, Stiles' anger growing. "Yeah, but you could have warned him."

"Stiles," Willow said gently, not wanting them to fight when they were all each other had. "We tried. But it's not like Peter killed him."

"He was gonna do it anyway. Now, we know," Peter said, looking at the exit.

"Know what?" Stiles questioned.

"That we'll, uh, disintegrate if we go out that way," Willow said with a wince.

"Not just that. We know that we're stuck," Peter added while jumping onto the tracks with them. "It's over. We are trapped because that was our only way out."

"Or that's just what they want us to believe," Stiles said quietly. This wasn't their first run-in with something that tried to trick them with illusions.

Peter came closer, raising his voice. "What? What is it with you teenagers? You think that you're so special? You think the rules don't apply to you? Do you get it? We are dead and buried!"

Then Peter reached into Stiles' pocket and grabbed his wallet, pulling out the cash inside. "Money? It's worthless," he spat while throwing it away. He continued throwing things on the ground. "Driver's license? Credit cards?"

"Give me my damn wallet back!" Stiles snapped, trying to grab it.

Peter just tossed the wallet to the side. "It's all meaningless." Then he snatched Stiles' car keys away too. "Keys?"

Stiles let out an annoyed huff. "Give me my keys."

"Leave him alone, Peter," Willow said, crossing her arms.

In response, he just threw Stiles' keys off somewhere. "What? Did you think you were gonna drive us out of here? Is that what you thought? Do you get it? We don't exist! And we are already forgotten."

"Somebody's gonna remember me. Either Lydia, or Scott, Malia... someone. They're gonna find me, all right? They'll come for me," Stiles whispered.

"Like someone came for Willow?" Peter shot back, looking at the girl. Willow flinched and looked at the ground. "Like someone remembered her?"

"They're gonna find us, Peter," Willow said quietly, her eyes watering. "They can't - they can't just go on-"

"But they have gone on, Willow!" Peter said, raising his voice. "Forget about Derek, because he's forgotten you! You don't mean anything to him anymore. Not even your little necklace does."

Like he did with Stiles' wallet, Peter snatched the necklace Derek gave her from her neck, the chain breaking. Stiles tried to get it back for her, but Peter just shoved it in his pocket - even he wasn't so heartless as to throw away his sister's necklace.

"Stop it, Peter," Willow whispered. Her lip quivered as she shook her head. "That's not true."

"It is, okay? You don't exist to him - you never did. Everything you two had planned? It's all gone - his love for you, the engagement ring, a future in Beacon Hills, those goddamn stars! You can forget it all because he forgot you!" Peter shouted. "And he's not coming for you. Not for any of us."

Stiles glared at Peter as he saw Willow's shoulders shaking. "Yeah, because no one would ever come for you," he said coldly. Then he grabbed Willow and held her in his arms, letting her cry on his chest.

Peter ignored the pang in his chest, knowing he'd just hurt the one person who'd ever cared about him. "You give me a call when your high school sweethearts conjure up a plan to get out of here," he said before stalking off, going back down the tunnel.

With a sigh, Stiles looked down at the girl in his arms. He ran a hand through her hair to smooth it down, starting to whisper quiet 'It'll be okay's and 'Don't listen to him's in her ear while rocking her back and forth.

There weren't enough comforting words that could be cooed in her ear to calm her down. Willow was sobbing in his arms, nearly choking on the tears. It felt like her chest was going to cave in as Peter forced her to see the truth.

Derek was in New York, not even missing her - not even remembering her. For all she knew, he'd moved on with some random girl. He didn't remember the first time he made Willow smile by giving her a skirt or how they woke up every morning in each other's arms. He didn't care about stars on ceilings or-

"Oh, god!" Willow cried even harder as the realization struck her, holding Stiles like he was the only thing keeping her alive.

"What?" he asked, seeing that she was freaking out even more.

"Who's t - taking care of - of Scribbles?" she asked, nearly hyperventilating. "Derek hates cats - he's just abandoned on the s - streets of New York!"

"Shit," Stiles muttered. "L - look, we're gonna do something. Then we'll get out and spend a month looking down every alley in New York to find him, okay? Deaton probably has some Druid pet-finder herb or something. We'll find him. And you'll get back to Derek. I'll beat the memories back into him if need be."

Willow sniffed and pulled back a little bit, peering up at him through blurry, tear-filled vision. "Thank you. You couldn't beat Derek in a fight, but thank you."

"Say that to the countless fights he's lost over the last few years."

☽

It took a long time to help Willow calm down. But eventually, she and Stiles went back to the waiting area. She sat next to him with red-rimmed eyes, just staring forward blankly like everyone else. Both she and Stiles were out of ideas with no way of getting out or making contact with the real world.

There was an old lady sitting on the same bench that they were, and she looked to her left at them and smiled. "I'm waiting for a train," she informed them.

Stiles smiled thinly. "Yeah, it's probably runnin' late," he said, no humor in his tone.

"I'm going to see my grandchildren," she said with a smile. "Who are you two going to see?"

Willow's eyes began to water again, just leaning against Stiles' arm instead of answering. She wanted to see Derek. Scott. Lydia. Malia. Anyone, really.

Then the PA system began crackling again as the same announcement from earlier was made about canceled stops. They didn't pay it any mind, but Stiles did look at the speaker where it was coming from. When he stood, Willow did as well, unsure of what he was doing.

There was a black cord coming from the speaker, which Stiles followed with his eyes. It went all across the ceiling and to the other end of the waiting area. There was a single locked door, and the wire was connected to something on the other side.

"Intercom." When Willow heard Peter, she and Stiles looked back to see him leaning against a column. Now that they had some kind of clue, his grouchy mood was fading. "Maybe a radio?"

Yet again, Peter's strength came in handy as he broke the lock on the door. Inside was a complex system of wires, screens, and radio equipment. While Willow and Peter weren't quite sure how to use all of it, Stiles got right to work, crouching under the main desk to try and power it all up.

As he fiddled under the desk, he also rattled off a plan to use the system to contact someone not stuck here with them. Willow was skeptical - she couldn't help it. Even after all the supernatural nonsense they'd been through, after being supernatural herself, she was still a woman of science. And communicating through different dimensions with a PA system wasn't exactly a branch of science.

Peter was skeptical as well, and unlike Willow, didn't mind voicing his thoughts. "Your theory is ridiculous. Magnetic disturbances and a few pixelated photos doesn't mean that you can use a ham radio to communicate across a supernatural barrier. Ghost Riders can't be seen, heard, or remembered. You really think they're gonna leave a gadget around that you can use to call your friends?"

Willow looked at her feet, rocking back and forth. She was too upset about how Peter spoke to her earlier to agree with him. Besides, Stiles didn't need to be distracted while trying to figure out the electrical wiring.

Peter grumbled while wandering around and flicking random switches on. Most of them did nothing, but upon turning one on, a high-pitched static sound hit their ears. Willow and Stiles cringed, covering their ears with their hands.

"Fix it!" Willow shouted, worried that someone would hear.

☽

Someone did hear.

Scott stepped out of his classroom and looked around the hallway with a confused expression. The staticky noise just started randomly and drove his hearing crazy. And he wasn't the only one - Malia came down the stairs and met him in the hallway.

"There you are," she grumbled, the sound putting her in a bad mood.

"You heard it too?"

She nodded. "Where's it coming from?"

Scott looked at the exit, thinking it was louder in that direction. "This way."

The two rushed outside and to the parking lot, where they saw they weren't the only two that heard the sound. Lydia and Derek were both standing across from the Jeep and staring at it. Wriggles was also there, hissing in annoyance at the loud vehicle.

"It's coming from inside," Lydia said as the two joined them.

"I was about to open up the hood and look at the engine when it started," Derek added with a deep frown.

Scott and Malia walked around to the driver's side and looked through the window. The car wasn't on, but the sound was coming from the police scanner sitting on the center console. When Scott tried to pull on the door handle, it stayed locked.

"Did somebody just lock the keys inside?" Malia questioned.

"Just break it," Derek said with a sigh. There were already about a billion things wrong with his one hundred and fifty dollar purchase - what was one more?

Scott did as he was told and used his strength to break the handle. Then he opened the door, the sound getting a little louder to them as he did.

"Now what?" Scott asked, looking to Derek.

"Get in."

☽

Back at the train station, the three of them were making progress with the radio system. While Stiles stayed at the desk, Peter and Willow plugged some cords into a switchboard to increase the range. They just had to tune out the screeching sound.

"Take your time," Peter muttered impatiently as Stiles' progress slowed. "No rush. Only thing at stake is any evidence of our existence. Soon to be lost... forever."

"Peter," Willow grumbled, not in the mood for him to shout until she cried again.

"Yeah, not helping," Stiles muttered while sorting through some wires.

While he was still fiddling with the system, Peter's ears picked up on approaching horses once more. He acted quickly, unplugging all the cords from the switchboard. While Willow couldn't quite pick up on the sound of the Ghost Rider, she got the right idea as she grabbed Stiles and pulled him away from the desk.

The three of them ran out of the control room and made it to a pillar to hide behind just in time. One lone Ghost Rider arrived, making the people scream and hide again. After sliding off his horse, he turned right to the door they'd just run out of with his gun at the ready. He went inside to look for the intruders he wouldn't find. From their hiding spot, they could hear the clattering sound as the Ghost Rider knocked things over to search.

"In case you're keeping count," Peter whispered to Stiles, "that's twice we've saved your life today."

☽

Back in Beacon Hills, Scott and Derek were crammed in the backseat of the Jeep while Lydia and Malia sat in the front. The radio kept screeching while Lydia started searching for clues in the dashboard compartment. Other than a rag and some duct tape, there wasn't much.

Suddenly, without them doing anything, the static on the radio cut off abruptly. Scott leaned forward and looked at the machine in confusion.

"Why'd it stop?" Malia asked. Derek reached past Scott and repeatedly turned the on and off switch, nothing happening as he did.

"It doesn't matter. There has to be a reason," Lydia told them.

Then Scott looked around the cab of the car, more confusion washing over him. "What?" he whispered more to himself.

All of them looked at him in question. "You caught a scent?" Lydia asked.

"Yeah, uh, ours," Scott replied with a frown. "Mine, yours... all three of us."

There was another scent, Derek caught. It was unfamiliar to him and faint - like it'd been months since the last time that person was there. But he swore he could smell the lingering scent of strawberries.

"Mine?" Malia asked Scott skeptically, thinking he must've been lying. "I've never been in this Jeep before."

"Neither have I," he said, not understanding it.

"Yes, we have. We just don't remember it," Lydia said defeatedly.

Malia looked at her, clearly annoyed. "I thought we were done with that?"

"Uh, yeah, Lydia, Parrish checked the VIN number. There's no record of an owner," Scott reminded her.

"The Jeep didn't just drive itself here," Lydia argued.

Scott seemed to think it over, knowing she was right about that. Malia gave him a displeased look. "Whose side are you on?"

"I'm on everyone's side," he insisted while leaning back again.

"He's not real. Trust me. Willow probably isn't either," Malia said, looking back at her cousin. "I've lost a lot of people in my life. It's a long list, and I don't feel like adding to it.

Derek glared at her, rolling his jaw as he tried to contain his anger over her insistence Willow wasn't real. He'd lost more than anyone in this car - he wasn't going to lose another.

"Malia, I have working knowledge of nearly everything that has ever happened on the tv show Glee. I can guarantee that it didn't get there by its fucking self! She's real!"

"God, I hope so," Scott muttered, looking at Derek in amusement. If she wasn't real, then he'd be making fun of this for the rest of his life.

While they were bickering, Lydia had gone back to digging in the dashboard. With a smug smile, she pulled out the yellowed registration information. "Maybe we can get them back and have a marathon."

Malia grabbed the sheet of paper and skimmed it, only for Scott to snatch it right after her. He looked over the title of the car, seeing that most of the required information was missing. "This is from '96. And there's no name."

Malia then pointed to one line. "But there's an address. 129 Woodbine Lane."

"I know that address," Lydia said, sharing a knowing look with Derek. This was the third time something led them to the Stilinski household - four if you counted Wriggles trying to break into the unused guest bedroom.

One was an incident. Two was a coincidence. Three was a pattern.

☽

While Lydia went to the Stilinski house to ask about the title of the Jeep, Derek stayed in the school parking lot. He didn't particularly want to return to that house that rubbed him the wrong way - also, Wriggles definitely wasn't welcome there anymore.

After running to his loft to get his tool kit, Derek returned to the Jeep and popped the hood, deciding to look inside. There weren't any keys, but he figured he could get it started anyway. But the motor - and pretty much everything else - needed a ton of work done on it.

"There's like three rolls of duct tape keeping this thing together," Derek said, glaring at the mess inside.

"But you can fix it?" Malia asked him. Her job was to just hand him tools and keep her sarcastic comments to a minimum.

"With about a hundred hours and sixty different new parts," he grumbled. As if to motivate him, Wriggles let out a low 'meow' from his spot up on the roof of the Jeep, where he was supervising the whole project. Derek glanced up at the cat and rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"You're talking to the cat?" Malia asked, looking at him in disbelief. "Pathetic."

"Shut the hell up. Wriggles is part of the family now."

"That's not a name."

"Shut - up!"

☽

"What was it like?" Willow asked Stiles. They were sitting on one of the benches, wanting to wait a while before trying the radio again. "When you were taken?"

Stiles sighed and shrugged a little. "Everyone just started forgetting me - Lydia's mom, Scott, even my dad. Lydia was the last one to remember me. She was there with me when I was taken. It was horrible, but at least I wasn't alone."

"I was alone," she whispered, looking down at her hands. Stiles tensed beside her, watching her carefully. Her voice trembled a bit. "I was waiting for you at the house. It was so dark, and I could barely see anything. Scott was the first person I called. I thought he could save me."

"Because he's an alpha?" Stiles said.

Willow shook her head. "Because he's Scott," she said quietly, her eyes watering. "You know, I was friends with you guys before he was bitten, but just in the way that I was friends with everyone. But then you took me into the woods to try and find that body after cheerleading practice, and it all changed. You became my best friends. My brothers."

She wiped at her eyes and kept talking as she cried softly. "So, when he didn't remember me... it was just as scary as seeing the Ghost Riders. It was worse than anything I've been through just because I was so alone for it."

"You're not alone now," Stiles said, wrapping his arm around her. "And I'm sorry I couldn't remember you. I'm sorry I didn't come here to rescue you."

"You're here now," she said, not blaming him for his inability to remember. "You make me feel less alone."

☽

Apparently, a hundred and fifty dollars was essentially nothing seeing as the tow truck driver was right back at the school after the sun went down. In anger, Derek slammed the hood on the Jeep so hard that a dent in the shape of his hand was in the metal - not that it was noticeable, given how many other dents it had.

He and Scott were in the middle of arguing by the time Lydia pulled up in her car, finished talking with the Stilinskis, who claimed the Jeep was stolen around eighteen years ago. Despite being outnumbered, the truck driver wasn't backing down.

"We already paid you," Scott said, looking at Derek. "He gave you all his money for that drop fee."

Okay, all of his money might have been a stretch, but Scott was trying to make a point.

"Yeah, and I dropped it, all right? Now, I'm picking it up again," the tow truck driver said snarkily.

"Just how much?" Derek said as Lydia joined them. "I'll write you a check."

"It's not about how much," he said. "They want it out of here, okay? It's not up to me."

The driver stepped toward the Jeep, but Scott got in his way, glaring up at him. Of course, the older man was taller and not intimidated by a high schooler given he didn't know he was a werewolf.

"Don't make me move you, kid. Okay?"

Derek then stood next to Scott, matching the driver's height. He also crossed his arms, making sure his flexed biceps were on display. "Don't make me move you," Derek said threateningly.

The truck driver sighed in exasperation. "I'm hookin' this thing up and I am towing it away - even if the cops have to get involved."

Lydia eyed the two wolves worriedly, seeing how Scott clenched his fist and heard Derek's low growl. But before any kind of altercation could happen, they heard some kind of noise behind the driver.

They all watched as Malia ripped the hook completely off the cable connecting it to the man's truck. The corners of her lips turned up smugly. "Your truck's broke."

☽

People were screaming in the train station again. It seemed each time the Ghost Riders arrived, they spent longer and longer terrorizing them. Willow was squished between Peter and Stiles as they all hid behind one of the benches, staying low.

"This place is really starting to fill up," Peter muttered as another person was dropped off.

It was a younger girl who was wearing the very familiar maroon uniform from the lacrosse team. And she was quickly recognized by another girl who rushed to her side when the ropes disappeared.

"Gwen? Gwen!"

"Phoebe? Oh, my God! You're here!" Gwen exclaimed, hugging her sister.

"Wait a second," Stiles mumbled, peering over the bench. The Ghost Riders were still shooting their guns in the air and cracking their whips to terrify them all. "That girl. I know that girl. Her name is Gwen. She plays lacrosse. How long has this been going on?"

"You said it was three months since I came back to Beacon," Willow reminded him. "It only felt like I'd been here an hour and a half at most. Time is moving differently here."

Stiles' eyes went wide, now wondering how much time had passed in the real world since he arrived at the station. It could've been a month for all he knew.

"This isn't a train station, it's a way station. It's not gonna stop," Peter added. Then the wolf glanced at the arrival board on the wall, a flash of recognition passing through his eyes. He sighed heavily and pressed his forehead to the bench.

"Peter?" Willow asked, worried something was wrong. Well, more wrong.

"What is it?" Stiles asked, looking at the board too. "What are those places? Bannack? Canaan? I know you know something."

"We gotta get out of here," was all he said. "Nobody is safe."

"Yeah, in here?" he asked sarcastically. "No shit, Peter."

"In Beacon Hills. Your friends, your family, everyone you've ever known. They're gonna be taken," Peter corrected before scampering off.

"The whole town?" Willow called after him in disbelief. Of course, she didn't get an answer.

"Where are you going?" Stiles asked as Peter continued to weave through the cowering people.

Stiles cursed under his breath before grabbing Willow's hand and running after him with her. Willow ended up clenching her eyes shut as they got closer to the Ghost Riders. The three of them narrowly avoided them and then ran down the dark tunnel, toward the exit.

"What did you see up there?" Stiles asked Peter once they reached the end of the tunnel. They couldn't hear the chaos the Ghost Riders were causing. "The towns. What did it mean?"

"I just told you - they're never gonna stop," Peter said, his feet crunching the gravel as he kept walking.

"Okay, so what's the plan, then?"

"I'm going through the portal," he declared.

"What?" Willow practically shouted, her heartbeat picking up.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Stiles exclaimed. "No one gets through the portal. You said that yourself."

"No human can. But I'm better than a human, remember? I'll heal," he reminded him.

"No!" Willow said while grabbing his elbow and pulling him to a stop. Peter wouldn't turn to face her. "I'm not letting you do this, Peter."

"Willow, let's not have a moment in front of Stiles," he said, clenching his jaw. "You're not changing my mind."

"But-"

Stiles cut Willow off, moving to stand in front of Peter. "If you survive, you have to find our friends for us, okay? You have to tell them about us, 'cause they're not gonna remember us, so you have to tell them that we're here-"

"When I survive, I'm going to get as far away from Beacon Hills as I possibly can," Peter told them. "And, if I happen upon one of your below-average friends and it doesn't inconvenience me, I might mention your names." Then he started walking again.

"Yeah? What about Malia?" Stiles asked, making Peter come to a stop. "And Willow too, no matter how much of an asshole you've been since getting here. I know you're doing this for them. You're risking being incinerated for them. And I'm okay with that."

"I'm not-"

Again, Willow was cut off, this time by the sound of approaching horses neighing.

When Peter spoke, Willow could hear the fear in his voice. "Willow, get off the tracks. Stiles, stall them."

"W - what? How?" he asked, knowing he didn't stand a chance against those things.

"Use your head," was all Peter said.

Then he grabbed Willow and pulled them both up on the ledge. He went to hide behind the same pillar that Trent had, getting ready to jump. Willow didn't pay Stiles any mind as she rushed to Peter's side.

"I'm not letting you do this," Willow said, grabbing his wrist. Her eyes began to glow. "Peter, don't go through that tunnel."

Much to her surprise, his eyes didn't glow pink, and the charmspeak failed. Despite how he was shaking, he tilted his head and looked at her curiously. "Guess that doesn't work here."

"Please, don't," she begged, tears welling in her eyes. The Ghost Riders were about to emerge from the tunnel. "Peter, you'll burn. Again. You can't go through that again, please."

"I can," he said, forcing a tight smile. "For this." For you.

Then Peter shifted his foot and felt something hard underneath it. He looked down and saw Stiles' keys to the Jeep, which he decided to pick up at the last minute.

"Peter," she whispered, trying one last time.

Gently, he wiped one of the tears off her cheek. "I'll find Derek," he then promised. "Wherever he is - New York, Argentina, Beacon Hills. I'll tell him about you."

The lump in Willow's throat only grew as he pushed her back behind the pillar so she'd stay out of the Ghost Riders' sight. Stiles ended up pushing a bench down onto the tracks, which slowed the horses down a little.

When the first one passed, Peter leapt from the platform, landing on the back of the horse just like Trent did. The Ghost Rider tried to throw him off, but Peter managed to stay on despite how many times he was elbowed.

Willow held her breath as they got closer and closer to the portal. And when the horse barrelled through, both the Ghost Rider and Peter disappeared through it. She didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified by the fact that Peter made it through.

However, as the rider at the end of the line got past the bench, he looked up and saw Stiles standing and watching on the platform. He took a moment to crack his whip, wrapping it around Stiles' neck to pull him down to the tracks before leaving through the portal.

Willow quickly rushed to Stiles' side, checking on him as he rubbed his sore neck. Both of them looked at the exit, having no clue what happened on the other end.

"It worked," Stiles said in a hoarse tone, sharing a hopeful look with Willow.

"But is he okay?"

☽

Someone was not okay - at least if the pained, deafening roar that echoed through Beacon Hills was anything to go by.

While Lydia and Scott were half asleep in the front seat of the Jeep, Malia was standing by Derek's side and watching as he made a list of all the parts he'd probably need to even begin to fix the Jeep.

But then the roar sounded, so loud that everyone heard it, not just those with supernatural hearing. Scott and Lydia snapped awake and scrambled out of the Jeep, joining the cousins' sides, looking out at the night and wondering where it came from.

"Did you hear that?" Malia asked them, looking toward the preserve.

"I think all of Beacon Hills heard that," Lydia said, her eyes wide.

"Who is it?" Scott asked, looking at both Derek and Malia.

"I'm not sure, but I think I recognize it," Malia said hesitantly.

"I think I definitely recognize it," Derek added, sharing a look with Scott.

When none of them moved, Lydia snapped at them. "Go!"

It took a long time to search through the preserve, narrowing down the area where the supernatural creatures thought the roar came from. However, it made it difficult when the person didn't make another sound. With how expansive the preserve was, it could take days to find the source if they remained silent.

"Hey, any luck?" Scott asked when he spotted Malia and Derek in a small clearing, having met back up.

"No," Malia denied. "He hasn't roared again. I've got a scent, but..."

"There's something wrong with it," Scott finished for her, knowing what she meant.

"Whoever it is," Derek said with a deep frown, "they're burning. But I can't pick up on a fire to go with it-"

Finally, the person let out a pained roar once again, the ground practically shaking from the volume. The three of them took off toward the sound, the burning scent growing stronger as they got closer. Finally, in the darkness, they spotted a charred body on the ground.

The person was burned beyond recognition, and yet Derek found that he did recognize him.

Memories washed over him, and he stumbled back from the way his head spun for a moment. Then he was rushing to his uncle's side, leaving Scott and Malia behind. The alpha kept a hand in front of Malia, not wanting her to approach the man - approach Peter.

"I hear a heartbeat," Malia said, glancing between Derek and Peter.

"Who is that?" Scott asked.

"I don't know, but I know the scent, even through the barbecue," she told him.

Derek looked up at her sharply. "Can't you remember?"

Malia frowned in confusion and came over, kneeling at Peter's other side. Scott took a moment to look around and survey the scene. "How do you think he got here? There's no tracks, no fire," he noted.

Then Peter's eyes flashed open, the light blue the only color against the black remains of his body. Malia gasped and flinched back, her memories finally resurfacing too.

"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed, looking up at Derek. "Peter!"

Scott came and knelt near Peter's head, still looking confused. "Who's Peter?"

"Peter Hale - my dad," Malia clarified.

"My uncle," Derek added. Granted, Derek didn't give Peter much thought on a day-to-day basis, but he couldn't believe he forgot him altogether and didn't notice. "We... we forgot him."

It took Scott a moment longer as he thought on it, but finally, everything returned. Peter biting him, coming back to life, conspiring with Kate to kill him only to stop his plan at the last minute, running off with Braeden to hunt down Malia's mother.

"Peter! He bit me. How could I forget him?" Scott asked, looking down at the man that he couldn't even recognize like this.

"How did I forget him?" Malia questioned, actually feeling a little bad. Then she heard the leaves shifting and looked down, seeing Peter trying to move his hand. "He has something."

In addition to having something, Peter tried to say something. But he could barely breathe, let alone speak. Everything was burned, even his lungs. He wheezed in pain, on the brink of death on the forest floor.

Derek, who'd already lost his entire family to fire, quickly grabbed Peter's hand and began to take his pain. He swore under his breath and cringed from how agonizing the pain was. Scott and Malia soon mirrored his actions, helping ease the dying wolf's pain.

After a few moments, his labored wheezing grew softer. It seemed he was going to lose consciousness, which was probably better than feeling every second of this.

Then Malia went to check his hand again, careful to avoid touching his burned skin and bring him more pain as she grabbed what he was holding.

"What is it?" Derek asked, knowing it must have been important for Peter to hold onto while going through whatever did this to him.

It was a set of car keys.

☽

Back at the train station, Stiles was looking up at the arrival board, deep in concentration. Willow didn't bother to listen as he muttered to himself, too busy drowning in worried thoughts about Peter and what condition he was in.

"Canaan," Stiles mumbled a little louder, tilting his head.

Next thing Willow knew, he was dragging her away from the board and to the broadcasting room. He was more determined than ever to get the system up and working. While he worked on fixing the system under the desk, Willow quickly plugged in everything to the switchboard on the wall.

And all the way back in Beacon Hills, while Malia went with her father to the hospital, Derek, Scott, and Lydia sat in the Jeep. Lydia was behind the wheel and holding up the key to the car, looking at it intently. What were the odds that a previously-forgotten Peter appeared with the one thing they needed?

Finally, Lydia put in the key and turned it, only for the Jeep engine to sputter, refusing to start.

"Piece of shit," Derek muttered from the back seat, crossing his arms.

Lydia let out a huff before trying again, pumping the gas pedal repeatedly while continuing to turn the ignition. But even with that, the engine refused to cut on.

"Don't flood it," Scott told her sharply.

Lydia looked at him questioningly. "Do you even know what that means?"

Scott, who didn't even own a car to know these things, smiled sheepishly. "Not really."

With a grunt, Lydia tried the key one last time. And by some miracle, the Jeep came to life, the headlights shining across the parking lot as it did. All three of them let out relieved laughs, realizing they were one step closer to figuring things out.

But after a moment, the relief faded as they looked around the Jeep. There were no resurfacing memories or revelations that could help them.

"Now what?" Derek asked with a sigh.

"No clue-" Scott was cut off by the police scanner cutting on loudly, the static hurting their ears.

"Hello?"

Scott was moving to turn it down, but Lydia quickly grabbed his wrist to stop him. "Wait, wait, wait, wait!" she said quickly, swearing she heard a faint voice. And she heard it again a second later.

"Hello?" Stiles' deep voice sounded quietly, coming from the speaker on the radio. "Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me?"

Lydia grabbed the radio and held it to her mouth, hesitating before speaking. "S - Stiles?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She didn't recognize his voice and yet knew it had to be him. They all knew it had to be him.

Scott leaned in close as well. "Stiles? Are you there?"

"Scott? Lydia? Is that you?" Stiles asked, the relief in his tone clear. At the station, Willow ran up behind him, holding his shoulders tightly as she leaned close to the radio.

"Oh, my God, Stiles! We can hear you!" Lydia exclaimed, unable to believe it.

"Oh, my God. You know me? You remember me?" he asked, grinning at Willow over his shoulder.

Lydia hesitated again, looking at Scott and Derek. They didn't remember Stiles, not really. But they weren't going to tell him that when they were so close to getting him back. "Stiles, is thi - is - this you? Is this actually you?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, sniffing. "Listen to me. Do you remember the last thing I said to you?"

"You said..." She closed her eyes and thought hard, vaguely hearing his voice echoing in her mind. "You said, 'Remember I love you.'"

Stiles paused in disbelief, realizing that there was really a chance for them to be saved. For the Ghost Riders to be stopped.

At the silence over the line, Derek finally grew impatient as he leaned in between the front seats. "Stiles, what-"

"Is that Derek?" Stiles interrupted in disbelief, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

Willow had never moved so fast, taking the radio from Stiles' hands. "Derek?" she asked desperately.

The soft voice hit his ears, the static mixing with her hopeful tone. Derek snatched the Jeep radio from Lydia and held it close, his eyes wide. "Willow?"

"Oh, my God," Willow breathed out, beginning to cry as she heard his voice. Hearing her sobs broke Derek's heart, even if they were sobs of relief. "Derek, please tell me you remember me. Please!"

"I'm remembering," he said softly, his throat feeling tight. "I'm gonna remember you, and we're gonna get you back. I'll bring you back to me and Wriggles."

They could hear Willow sniffling over the line before hesitating and asking, "Who is Wriggles?"

Lydia and Scott gave Derek pointed looks as he drew his eyebrows in together. "The cat that's been following me around is yours, right?"

Stiles scoffed in disbelief and shook his head. "His name's not fucking Wriggles, Derek, you id-"

Willow let out a quiet gasp, cutting Stiles off. The others didn't know, but back at the station, they yet again heard horses approaching.

"Are you okay?" Derek asked her, needing to hear her voice again.

"Where are you?" Lydia questioned.

"We're comin' to get you," Scott added quickly.

But Stiles and Willow knew they couldn't come. They couldn't ask them to come either, knowing they'd just get erased, same as them. It wasn't safe. "No, no, no. You can't. You won't be able to find us," Stiles told them quickly.

"Stiles, what - what are you talking about?" Scott asked, shaking his head. "Just tell us where you are, and we'll - we'll come and-"

"Look, just remember this," Stiles interrupted him, knowing they didn't have much time. "Canaan. Okay? You have to find Canaan. Just find Canaan."

"Stiles, they're coming," Willow said, trying to pull him toward the door. "We have to hide!"

"Willow!" Derek shouted, needing her to hear him. "Willow, I love you!"

She let out a small, pained whimper that the radio caught. "I love you too," she whispered, continuing to cry. "Please don't forget that again."

Then the radio cut off on their end, Willow and Stiles having to flee to keep from being caught by the Ghost Riders. It left those in the Jeep with a horrifying sense of dread inside of them.

"Willow?" Derek called anxiously, knowing deep down that she wasn't going to pick up.

"Willow? Stiles?" Scott tried. "Stiles! Willow?"

"They're gone again," Lydia said, wiping the tears from her eyes. Then she glanced back at Derek, who was holding the radio so tight that the plastic was close to cracking. He looked a mix between crushed and hopeful, hearing Willow's voice causing his chest to ache. "...I told you Wriggles wasn't his name."