Stiles is hit by a curse and can see, and feel the dead.
Curse; noun- an evil that has been invoked upon one.
Stiles stood at the threshold of the house, staring into its burned guts and just felt. He could feel every one of them. He could feel the pain, the agony they went through in their last moments. He could hear their screams, their cries, their pleas to God to just let someone save them.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice quiet as he’d never heard it.
“I don’t want this anymore. Have you seen what I’ve done? What I’ve caused?”
“She’s the one at fault here, Stiles, not you,” she said, her hand reaching out for him. She could touch him, part of his little gift, but she never had.
“Maybe,” he sighed. “But I’m the one who brought this on the pack. I had to go out into the woods. It’s always me who gets us into this shit. Scott never would’ve been bitten if I hadn’t…”
He looked up at her, lost.
“Stiles,” she said, stepping close, gliding close and pressing her cold hand into his cheek. He startled, her touch new to him. “Everything is going to be okay.”
“How can it be? I did this to them. It’s always my fault.”
“Sweetheart,” she said. “It’ll be okay.”
He didn’t believe her, how could it ever be okay again when he’d killed his entire pack?