A/N: Hello and welcome to my first Teen Wolf fic, which is in two parts. I must warn that I have little knowledge of the American health service as I am a Brit, so I apologise in advance for any errors/Britisms and my incorrect creative licenses that may slip in. This fic is set around the end of S3, but Allison didn't die in this time line. I have already written the final part and it just needs proofing, so if you like this fic please review…as it may make me post it just that little bit faster. I hope you enjoy reading!

Stiles awoke to silence, white noise that seemed to have no end like the ocean on the horizon. He let out a long groan and slowly opened his eyes, trying to ignore the metallic taste in his mouth. An unfamiliar white room came into view, he tried to raise his arm but found it too heavy. Stiles tried again, but this time realised that it was bound painfully to his side.

'Help.' He whispered breathlessly, the world swimming in and out of focus. 'Help!'

'Quiet it down idiot,' hissed a voice to his left. 'Don't you think you did enough screaming last night?'

'No I will not quiet it down dude.' Replied Stiles. 'I have woken up tied to God knows what, I think this warrants some screaming!'

'Oh' said the voice, it was achingly familiar 'You talk now?'

'Of course I can talk, I do little else.' Replied Stiles, 'Which is why if you think you've picked an easy hostage just because I'm human, you've lucked out big time. I'm not going to shut up until you let me go, so I hope you've got some ear plugs.'

'What are you talking about?' said the voice, sounding even more annoyed – if that was possible. 'I wait for you to show some shred of sanity away from all that crazy werewolf shit you kept muttering about and this is what I get when you do. What a let down.'

Stiles breathed in deeply, his brain finally alert with recognition. 'Jackson?'

'No shit,' the voice sneered.

'What are you doing here?' asked Stiles, trying to ignore the pounding of his own heart. 'You're meant to be in London, living it up big. Did they get you too?'

Jackson let out a bitter laugh. 'London? I've never been to London. Whatever pills they've been giving you, I want them.'

Stiles began to breathe in and out, in then out. His chest was tightening and the world was tilting. 'Is this some sick joke? Because it's not funny any more Jackson.' He began to struggle against the straps holding him to the bed. Stiles desperately tried to catch a glimpse of his fingers. He needed to count them; he needed to see eight of them and two thumbs.

He could hear screaming and it was getting louder and louder. It only took him a moment to realise the sound was coming from his own mouth.

'Get someone in here now!' shouted Jackson, it sounded as if he was banging on a metal door. 'He is going crazy!'

Stiles eyes just managed to adjust to the light that burst into the room, before there was a sharp pain in his arm and he knew no more.

TW

A little while later Stiles was awoken by soft talking, he shifted slowly and was relieved to find that his arms were no longer pinned to his side like heavy weights.

'He was talking?' asked a voice, not any voice…his Dad's voice, 'like actual talking?'

'According to Jackson he was,' replied another voice.

'Jackson?' said his Dad, letting out a snort. 'The kid that's in here because he's a compulsive liar? That really fills me with hope, Doc.'

Stiles let out a groan, alerting what he assumed to be two men that he was now awake. He tried to lift himself up, but his whole body just felt just too heavy. Stiles heard footsteps come over to his bed and was relieved to see his Dad's worried face hovering over him. His Dad reached out and put a reassuring hand on Stiles's cheek.

'It's alright son, I'm here now.'

'Dad?' Stiles whispered.

His Dad's face rapidly switched from emotion to emotion in rapid succession. 'Stiles?' he whispered, almost as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

'That's my name…well it's not, but it's what I like to be called.' He tried to force a smile. Something bad must have happened, something really bad.

'Jesus.' His Dad said, he tugged Stiles up into a sitting position and then wrapped his arms around him. Holding so tight that Stiles wasn't sure how he was still breathing.

'It's alright.' Said Stiles; softly patting his Dad's back. He could feel the tears leaking through his PJs and onto his shoulder. 'I'm alright; you can't get rid of me that easily, no matter how much you would like to sometimes. You're stuck with me.'

Stiles expected his words to reassure his Dad, but they only caused him to shake even more as he clung to his son. He bit his lip and noticed the other man in the room was watching them both with open curiosity.

'Did I have an accident?' he finally asked. Where was Scott? He expected his best friend to be there, he always was after their misadventures that ended in a hospital visit. He raked his brain, trying to remember something…anything that could explain how he had ended up in hospital.

'Something like that.' His Dad replied, voice rough with emotion. He pulled away smiling, looking at Stiles as if he couldn't get enough of the sight of him. 'But you're okay? You're back now?'

'Mr Stilinski,' said the doctor behind his Dad, his voice laced with warning.

'It's fine,' said Stiles, glaring at the intruder. 'We're fine. What happened?'

Stiles again tried to remember how he had ended up in hospital, but was drawing a blank. He was almost sure he'd fallen asleep at his desk while researching something for Scott. Had he been kidnapped in the middle of the night? Was Jackson involved? Maybe this was all some sick joke, but the expression on his Dad's face told him otherwise.

'You had an accident son. You went away, but you're back now.' his Dad said, trying desperately to hide the emotion in his voice.

Stiles frowned and looked around in confusion. 'Where's Scott'

His Dad looked at the doctor, almost as if asking for permission to say something. The doctor shook his head. 'He's gone away, but I'm sure he would be happy if he could see you now.'

Stiles couldn't help but feel a little hurt. He was in hospital and his best bro had gone off on holiday, he quickly pushed the feeling away. 'Was it something to do with Allison?'

'Allison?' asked his Dad in confusion.

'You know Allison, brown hair…looks like Bambi. She and Scott are constantly on and off again and run around like they are love's young dream. Make the rest of us throw up a little in out mouths whenever we're around them.'

His Dad's face showed no recognition.

'You know Allison, Dad.' Said Stiles, trying to ignore the desperation in his own voice. What the hell was going on?

'I think that's enough for today,' said the doctor in the corner.

'Seriously dude!' said Stiles, 'Who asked you?'

The doctor let out a long sigh. 'I am managing your care and recovery program at the moment.'

'Why don't you manage it somewhere else?' said Stiles rudely.

His Dad let out a laugh. Stiles turned and looked at him.

'When can I go home?'

'Mr Stilinski!' said the doctor again.

His Dad ignored him. 'Soon kido, as soon as I can get them to agree.'

'Don't you think you're getting a bit carried away?' said the doctor, 'We don't even know if this development is permanent or temporary. For all we know any trigger could send him right back to square one. Your son is going to need weeks, months even, of psychological and medical testing before we can even consider…'

Stiles closed his eyes. 'Make him stop talking,' he moaned.

His Dad reached out and pulled Stiles into another hug. 'I think I better listen to the man, just this once.'

'It's for the best,' said the doctor.

Stiles raised an eyebrow. 'I am here you know and seriously Dad, you're listening to a man who has that moustache.'

His Dad grinned at him. 'I'll be back tomorrow son, I promise.'

Stiles felt his chest fill with panic. 'But you only just got here; I need you to tell me what happened.' He said desperately trying to think of other reasons to make him stay.

'Tomorrow.' Said his Dad, 'If they agree, I will explain everything; but you need rest.'

'I don't want rest,' said Stiles in his most childish voice. It had no affect on his Dad, who was following the doctor out of the door.

'I love you son,' he said softly.

'Love you too,' said Stiles, he threw himself back down into his pillows. A little while later he found himself drifting off to sleep.

TW

When Stiles next awoke he was in a different room with two cold eyes watching him. He shot up in shock; trying to calm his heart beat and realising it was just Jackson again.

'Dude,' he said, swallowing hard. 'This is starting to get a little creepy. Like Peter Hale creepy. Haven't you got anything better to do than watch me sleep?'

Jackson rolled his eyes. 'Don't flatter yourself Stilinski. There is nothing to do in this hell hole and so now you're my new television show: cured wonder boy. Personally I wish there was something else on, this channel is getting a bit boring and repetitive.'

Stiles rubbed his eyes. 'You could always go and stare at yourself in the mirror, or what ever it is you used to do in your spare time.'

'Don't pretend for even one second that you know anything about me.' Said Jackson darkly.

Stiles glanced over at him, trying to figure something out. Sure Jackson had always been a jerk, but this didn't feel like the Jackson he knew. This Jackson seemed colder some how, more rough around the edges. Had London done this to him? How had he ended up back here?

Stiles licked his lips slowly. 'Okay, maybe I don't know you…but maybe you know what happened to me?'

Jackson seemed to consider him for a moment, before a vicious smile came to his lips. 'I may know some things…'

Stiles tried to keep his features completely neutral and still. It was as if Jackson was some animal he was trying not to scare off as he edged closer to it, closer to the truth. 'Do you?'

'But you're the last person I would tell.' said Jackson. He let out a savage laugh; it started low but began to get louder and louder. His laughter was getting more manic by the second.

The door to the room opened and Stiles ran towards it. He had had enough of Jackson's crazy for one day already.

'Your father is here Stiles,' said a woman. It wasn't just any woman, it was Ms. Morrell. She seemed unconcerned with Jackson's behaviour. Like it was the norm or something.

Jackson stopped laughing and instead fixed Stiles with a dead eyed stare. Stiles couldn't stop the icy shiver that ran the whole way down his spine. For a moment Jackson looked like the Kanima again. Stiles slipped out of the room and away from Jackson so quickly, that he almost missed his special new roommate's parting words.

'Werewolves, hours of mindless babble about werewolf shit…but there's no werewolves here to save you now Stilinski, you're on your own. You're on your own.'

Stiles swallowed hard and continued forward, trying to keep up with Ms. Morrell who was walking fast down corridor. He stopped dead, knowing exactly why the hospital seemed familiar. It wasn't a hospital, it was Eichen House.

'Oh no,' said Stiles softly, holding onto a nearby wall in an attempt to stay up right. 'No, no, no.'

Ms. Morrell turned and walked back towards him, her face was hard and expressionless.

'No, no, no.' said Stiles, his breathing becoming more and more erratic. He was panicking, he couldn't breathe. 'What did I…what did I do?' he whispered, trying desperately to catch his breath.

'Mr Stilinski.' Said Ms. Morrell calmly. 'You need to calm down.'

Stiles let out a breathless laugh. 'Calm down? I'm back here, in this place. Did it happen again? Did I hurt someone, please tell me I didn't hurt someone. I don't remember anything and everything is weird, that can't be a coincidence, right?'

Ms. Morrell refused to look him in the eye and instead grabbed his arm, her grip vice-like. 'We haven't got time for this.'

Stiles dug his nails into the wall, finally managing to calm his breathing. 'You don't, but I do. Please, please tell me what I did. I need to fix it'

Ms. Morrell didn't answer him and instead began to pulling him along through the maze of corridors that was Eichen house.

'Seriously, you need to stop.' Said Stiles angrily, trying to pull his arm away from her. 'You're going to pull my arm out. I can walk by myself!'

Ms. Morrell finally did stop when they reached a polished door, it was only then she finally looked Stiles in the eyes. 'You need to listen very carefully; we only have this time to talk and it needs to count. In a minute you are going to go through that door and into a room. In that room they will be assessing your mental health and deciding whether we should start rehabilitating you for release. You agree and accept what ever they tell you.'

Stiles opened and closed his mouth, his brain ready to explode with confusion. 'But…'

'No buts Stiles. No matter what they say you have to remember this one thing: there is no such thing as werewolves.' She finally let go of his hand. 'Now go in.'

Stiles swallowed hard. 'Aren't you going to go in with me?'

Ms. Morrell looked torn. 'I can't, I'm not even meant to be here in the first place. But I know you can do this Stiles; you can adapt and survive what ever they throw at you.'

'Okay,' said Stiles quietly. 'I can do this.' He raised his hand and knocked quietly on the door. 'I can do this, I'm not going to panic and go hide under the seats in my jeep in the hope that nobody finds me no matter how good the idea sounds.'

'Enter.' Said a male voice.

As Stiles reached to turn the handle of the door, he turned to thank Ms. Morrell but realised she had disappeared; as if by magic.

'Okay no need to freak out,' said Stiles quietly to himself, 'it's normal for people to pop in and out of hallways like characters out of Harry Potter. Nothing abnormal there, nothing to worry about.' In a minute he was going to wake up from this weird dream and find himself back at his desk.

Stiles stepped into the room and was relieved to see his Dad inside, for a minute he forgot he was seventeen and practically threw himself at his Dad and hugged him. He clung on tightly, not caring that any reputation he had was fast going out the window.

'You okay son?' asked his Dad softly.

'I am now you're here.' Replied Stiles, he finally let go of his Dad and looked at the other two men in the room: one was smartly dressed from yesterday and the other was in scrubs with an impressive collection of injections. 'Are those for me?' he asked, eyeing the needles 'You shouldn't have.'

The man in the scrubs frown deepened, giving Derek's unhappy scowl a run for its money. Speaking of Derek, where was he and why hadn't he visited? Yes they argued most of the time, but they were pack and had a mutual respect for one another. Pack always looked out for pack.

'Would you like to sit down?' asked the smartly dressed doctor. 'We have a lot to discuss this morning. I'm Doctor Williams.'

Stiles nodded, but didn't reach out to shake the Doctor's outstretched hand. The guy gave him the creeps, there was something not quite right about him. The Doctor didn't let Stiles's reluctance faze him and instead slid a bowl of something grey across the table towards him.

'Dude, what is that?' asked Stiles, pulling a face. What ever was in the bowl did not look like it was from this planet; it looked like sludge from some alien film.

Doctor Williams raised an eyebrow. 'You eat this every day Stiles,'

Stiles opened his mouth to argue, but remembered Ms. Morrell's warning words. 'Well maybe today I want a change…not any curly fries under that desk by any chance, is there?'

'You're best to eat that son, but when you get out I will buy you all the curly fries you could ever want.' Said Stiles's Dad.

The Doctor shook his head at his Dad.

'You shouldn't be committing to ideas like that, not when it's still early days.' Said the Doctor.

'Right here again dude.' Said Stiles, with a little unimpressed wave. It seemed they were both used to talking about him like he was invisible, the thought unnerved Stiles even more. Stiles picked up the bowl of grey sludge and popped a spoon full into his mouth, it tasted awful. He placed it back down on the table, looking around hopefully for some type of sugar.

'I'm sorry Stiles.' Said the Doctor, 'But you must understand your recovery has been remarkable. In the space of a day you have gone from being almost catatonic to well…normal. We will be running tests to check how you are functioning, but at the minute it is as if there is nothing at all wrong with you.'

'So, can I go home?' asked Stiles, trying to process what the Doctor was trying to tell him. 'Catatonic?'

'Do you have any memories over the last two years?' asked Doctor Williams.

Stiles opened and then closed his mouth, all his memories seemed to involve werewolves and the supernatural and Ms. Morrell had made it clear that it was a no go area. 'I remember bits.'

'Do any of them involve being here?'

'Some of them,' replied Stiles, trying to be as elusive as possible. He wasn't lying; he had been here before and had memories of the place.

Doctor Williams glanced over at his colleague in the scrubs, as if signalling him that he might be needed. 'Stiles you have been a patient in Eichen house for nearly two years.'

Stiles looked at the doctor and then felt something bubble over in his stomach; he began to laugh loudly and once he started, he couldn't seem to stop. 'Very funny,' he said standing up. 'You almost had me there; come on guys the joke is over…you can all come out now.' He waved his arms looked around hopefully, waiting for his friends to materialise out the corners of the room.

'Sit down Stiles.' Said his Dad.

Stiles sat down automatically, finally noticing that the man in the scrubs had been edging towards him with a needle. Stiles felt the laughter die on his lips as he looked at the expression on his Dad's face, none of this was a joke. He sank very low in his seat; his chest was becoming tight again.

'You're not joking?' said Stiles.

'No,' said Doctor Williams.

'What happened?' asked Stiles, it seemed he had lost two years of his life. Did that mean he was twenty? Was that why Scott wasn't here? It would make sense that no-one had come to visit, two years was a long time to wait for someone to wake up from wherever it was he'd been.

'You were involved in a road accident.' Said his Dad finally. 'A bad accident, for a while they didn't think you were going to make it.' His face was pained with trying to hide his emotion. 'When you woke up, you were no longer you.'

Stiles bit his lip hard, trying to calm down his racing heart. 'What do you mean no longer me?'

Doctor Williams pushed a glass of water towards Stiles. 'You were in a near catatonic state; you would spend hours staring into space. You would walk when prompted, but you never showed any awareness of your surroundings. The only time we heard you talk was when you whispered about things like werewolves or foxes.'

Stiles pushed himself back up his chair. They had to be joking right? This had to be some type of supernatural trick. 'Who are you?' asked Stiles, finally deciding to examine the man in front of him.

'Your doctor Stiles.' Said Doctor Williams calmly.

Stiles snorted at his answer. 'Yes, I'm sure you are. As much as I would like to believe your little make believe story…I don't. Which means that you're working for someone and this isn't real. What ever it is you want from Scott, you won't get it.'

'Son,' said his Dad softly. 'Scott's dead.'

Stiles felt the entire world fall from under his feet. 'You're lying! If Scott was dead I'd know, we have a connection…we're closer than brothers.'

'He died in the car accident you were involved in two years ago. You sneaked out in the middle of the night after hearing we'd found a body in the woods, on the drive there, there was another car and it hit yours. It was a tragic accident, Scott was declared dead at the scene.' His Dad said the story mechanically, almost as if he was used to telling people it.

Stiles stood up quickly, his chair falling to the floor behind him. 'I don't believe you!' he ran to the door and tried to pull it open, but it wouldn't budge. 'I don't believe you!' he cried, his finger nails frantically scraping at the wood.

A sharp prick in the back of his neck made Stiles realise what a mistake his reaction had been. But it was too late; the world was slowly swimming in and out of focus. All he could see was a blur of memories, his entire life with Scott flashing before his eyes. Scott couldn't be dead; he couldn't live in a world without him. A few tears slid out from the corner of his eyes, before he once again knew no more.

TW

Hell. Stiles was in hell. A hell where every morning he would wake up and hope that he would be in his own bed, but he never was. The days since he'd arrived in this place were all starting to blur into one. It was as if he'd jumped down some rabbit hole into a different world, but Stiles didn't even remember following the rabbit in the first place.

'What do you see in this in this picture?'

Stiles glanced at the piece of card the woman sat behind a desk was showing him. 'Darth Vader fighting a mountain lion.' He answered, not even bothering to look properly. He hated this woman and her stupid ink cards.

She let out a long sigh and put down the card. 'We can't help you if you won't let us Mr Stilinski.'

Stiles let out a snort. 'I'm sorry, I'm totally going to be fine with the fact you guys keep trying to convince me that my best friend is dead and I've imagined the last two years of my life. Because anyone else in my situation would be totally fine with that too.'

The woman looked at him with warm and understanding eyes, it made Stiles hate her even more.

'We're not saying that you're lying about the last two years Mr Stilinski, we're just trying to help you realise the reality of the situation. You can't start to get better until you accepted the facts about what happened the night of the car accident you were involved in.'

Stiles rolled his eyes. 'That's because the car accident never happened, how many more times do I have to tell you?'

He looked down at his shoes, wondering if he would be able to return home if he tapped them together three times? He wanted to go home; he was desperate to go home. He missed Scott, he missed his own Dad who didn't look at him as if he might break any minute and strangely he even missed Derek. A part of him briefly wondered if the other man would be proud of the practice Stiles had been putting in to master his trade mark glare. He was getting good at it, but of course he'd never be as good as Derek.

'But it didn't happen and you need to accept that and start the grieving process.' She replied. 'The sooner you begin to show signs of progress, the sooner you will get to go home.'

Stiles shook his head, desperately trying to drown out her words. If going home meant accepting Scott was dead, then he would happily stay in Eichen house forever…there was no home without Scott.

TW

Jackson placed his tray down next to Stiles, his reptile eyes fixed on his face. Stiles tried not to let out a groan. It was day fourteen in his own personal hell and usually the days that involved Jackson sucked even worse than the others. Today almost all the patients were sitting outside eating dinner and Stiles finds making conversation with any of them usually doesn't end well.

'Dude, take a picture…it'll last longer.' Said Stiles, pushing at the gruel on his plate with his spoon. He was never going to be able to eat porridge or soup again after this. 'Is this a social visit? Because people are going to start to talk if we spend even more time together than we already do and I'm still not fine with the whole watching me sleep thing that you keep doing.'

Jackson's face doesn't change. 'Any one tell you why I'm in here Stilinski?'

Stiles pushed his tray away from himself. 'No, but I bet you're going to tell me. And please don't tell me it's just for the gourmet food and spa treatments.'

'I killed a man.' Said Jackson, he looked intently at Stiles for any type of reaction.

Stiles refuses to look away, he'd faced werewolves and all sorts of other type of supernatural creatures. He wasn't going to let Jackson intimidate him. Even if the Jackson of this world was his psychotic roommate. 'Okay.'

'Is that all you're going to say?' asked Jackson, looking confused for a moment.

'Dude, nothing in this messed up world surprises me any more.' Answered Stiles.

Jackson continues to stare at him without blinking. 'He was a mechanic, I took my car in to be repaired and he scratched it. He scratched my car, so I let one that he was fixing crush his bones to powder.'

Stiles clenched his fists, trying to ignore the urge to punch Jackson. He didn't sound one bit sorry, he almost sounded proud.

'They say I have anger issues, that I can't form emotional human attachments. But that wasn't why I did it; I did it because I loved the sound his bones made as the car crushed him.' Jackson face twisted into a smile, a proud smile.

Stiles stood up quickly, suddenly feeling less hungry than before. They wouldn't let him have solids yet any way, something about his stomach needing to adapt after being spoon fed mush for nearly two years. He practically felt he was wasting away on the mouthful of gruel. If he ever got back to his own world he was never letting curl fries out of his sight ever again.

'Well as much as I've enjoyed our whole sharing is caring thing, I think I hear Beth calling me.' Stiles was relieved that Jackson didn't seem to remember that Beth hadn't apparently said a word to anyone in the last five years. 'We should do this again sometime; I'll check my diary and get back to you.'

Stiles stood up and walked away from the outside tables, not exactly sure where he was going. He needed to get out of this place and fast. He needed to get home and soon because deep down he was starting to doubt his self. The whole werewolf thing had been so unbelievable when Scott was bitten; maybe the whole thing wasn't real. What if the last two years actually hadn't happened? What if this was the real world? Could his imagination really have created such a colourful world? Had he imagined Derek too? In the world he had come from, people like him and Scott could be heroes…was it all just a little bit too Marvel to be real?

He was so distracted that he almost walked into one of the walls that surrounded Eichen house. Stiles tried to ignore the growing loneliness in the pit of his stomach, he wanted to go home. He needed a sign, anything that would tell him what to do next.

Stiles looked wishfully through the gate leading to the outside world. Knowing even if he did escape Eichen house, there was still no guarantee he would be able to return to his own world. But he wasn't giving up; he couldn't give up on Scott. A movement outside the gate caught his eye, he stepped towards it and managed to glimpse something dart back into the trees. He opened his mouth to shout out, but knew how useless it would be. He could sense that he was alone again, whatever it was outside the gates was now gone. But for a moment Stiles could have sworn he'd seen a glimpse of leather and dark hair.

TW

Day twenty eight started in the usual way for Stiles: he woke up only to realise he was in fact still in hell, went to breakfast and tried to force down a disgusting bowl of whatever coloured gruel they're feeding him today, took his medication and then tried to keep his brain from exploding with how mundane before it was time for bed. It's the same routine every day, like some washer rinse cycle. Stiles feels as if he really is about to explode, he isn't sure how much longer he can last in here. He's never talked so much about his feelings his whole life and when he gets out of Eichen he never plans to again.

It is a surprise when one of the members of staff gives him his normal clothes to dress in and escorted him to a room he's never been before. His own clothes feel weird to him; stiff and baggy as if they haven't been worn for years. He can't help but be surprised that the hoodie he's been given to put on is one that was destroyed almost a year ago during one of his adventures with Scott.

Stiles practically jumps into his Dad's arms again the minute he spots him in the room, not caring any one else thinks. It seems his Dad is the only one he has left in this messed up world, which means he's going to cling onto him for as long as possible.

'Hey kiddo,' said his Dad softly. 'You okay?'

'Yeah, as good as I can be. I mean the service here isn't great and you wouldn't feed their food to a dog. But it ticks all the boxes for a creepy haunted house that would be well at home in an episode of Scooby-Doo. So I guess I can't rate them that badly on trip advisor.' Said Stiles into his Dad's shoulder.

His Dad pulled away from Stiles, holding him at arms length to get a good look at him. 'I'm taking you home son.'

Stiles stared at him in confusion. 'Home?' he can hear the sound of his own heart beating wildly in his chest.

'Just for twenty four hours, but your Doctor says if it goes well we will start the process of making it into a permanent move.' His Dad can't hide the smile on his face.

'Really?' asked Stiles. 'Like really, really?'

'That's what I said.' Replied his Dad.

Stiles practically jumped up in joy. 'This is…I can't…just awesome! This is like totally the best thing to happen in like forever, well since the whole waking up in a world where everything is backwards thing. Can we have curly fries? Please tell me this world has curly fries!'

His Dad smiled at him fondly. 'It has curly fries.'

'Yes!'

TW

Stiles stared hungrily out the patrol car window the entire journey home. The town looks exactly the same, as if he hadn't been away but that wasn't hard with Beacon Hill. As they pull into the drive way Stiles looked around excitedly for his jeep and was disappointed to notice that it wasn't there.

'Where's my Jeep?' asked Stiles.

His Dad gave him an odd look as he pulled up the hand break. 'It was beyond repair.'

'Oh,' Stiles tried to ignore the burning behind his eyes, another piece of home torn from him.

'When you're a bit better I was thinking we could go out and look for a new one.' Said his Dad.

'Okay.' Said Stiles softly, though it wasn't okay. Nothing was going to replace his Mum's jeep. A new car wouldn't bring Scott back from the dead. 'Maybe I could get a flashy red sports car; I always wanted one of those. Imagine Scott's face when I…' he trailed off.

His Dad placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 'It will get easier son.'

'I know.' Answered Stiles, knowing he was lying.

'When your mother died, I thought life would never be normal again. But you learn to cope and survive; Scott wouldn't want you to be unhappy son. You have so much more to give.' Said his Dad.

Stiles opened the car door and jumped out; deciding running away from this emotional moment with his Dad was the best course of action. 'Are you going to give me the grand tour of the old place?'

'Sure,' said his Dad, he stepped out of the car and walked past Stiles. 'Home sweet home.' He opened the door and nodded at Stiles.

Stiles forced a smile and followed his Dad up the porch. He paused at the door as he felt an odd prickly feeling on the back of his neck, as if he was being watched. Stiles turned and looked around, noticing there was no one there.

TW

Everything in the house was wrong: upside down, topsy-turvy. It was their house, but it wasn't their house. It was Stiles's room, but it wasn't his room. Walking into the house had not made Stiles feel any easier; it had been too neat and stank of cleaning products. It didn't help his Dad was lingering around behind him, as if waiting for him to explode or break at any time.

The first thing Stiles had done after he had found his bearings was to check the fridge. It was almost a relief to find junk food and things his Dad so wouldn't have been allowed if he'd been there for the last two years. Stiles had almost felt normal as he lectured his Dad about the food groups and how bacon wasn't one of them, no matter how much he loved the taste. The expression on his Dad's face had been almost comical and for the first time in weeks Stiles found himself laughing at him.

But as Stiles now sat in his room that wasn't his room, he began to feel lost again. The room didn't smell like him, it was almost as if someone had made a copy of his room from two years ago and replaced his room with it. Gone were his boards, books and information on anything supernatural. He'd even ripped up the floor board where he kept his really important books on werewolves and found the space empty.

Stiles practically threw himself down on his familiar desk chair, trying to ignore the fact that it now doesn't brokenly dip to one side after that one time Derek came through his bedroom window badly. He pushes away the apparently fake but hilarious memory; according to his doctors Derek never existed so his mind must have been incredibly messed up to create such a gorgeous hot mess. He can think of Derek as hot now without feeling awkward, the guy was a figment of his imagination for God's sake!

'I've ordered us a pizza,' shouted his Dad from downstairs. 'You're okay to eat pizza, aren't you?'

'Yeah.' Lies Stiles, it's not like he's still stuck on his weird mush diet or anything. Well he is, but his Dad doesn't need to know that.

He finally fires up his lap top, checking his Dad isn't lurking behind him as he goes straight to Google. Within seconds all the information he needs is at his fingers as he pulls up articles about the crash that killed his best friend. It wasn't an accident and Scott wasn't the only one to die that night. He finds himself shaking as he reads article after article and sees different pictures of his mangle jeep at different angles. The blood stain on the road

Stiles breathed in and out as he tried to process it all. Victoria and Allison Argent were in the car that hit his jeep that night. It was believed Victoria was suffering from depression and purposefully ran her car into Stiles's jeep in an attempt at suicide…which worked. Nobody stood a chance of getting out the wreck of the two cars that night and it was only by some miracle Stiles had managed to survive, but he was brain damaged and unresponsive to any stimuli. No wonder his Dad had been such a mess, no wonder all the doctors were amazed by his recovery. This world's Stiles had been dead a long time ago, but he wasn't and now he was stuck here. That's if he actually wasn't this world's Stiles after all, as each day passed his belief in who he was getting weaker and weaker. What if he had created the world of werewolves, just like his doctor had suggested?

A movement outside their house caught Stiles's attention; he got up out of his chair and opened his window, sticking his head out of it. There was no one there; maybe it was an animal or something. Stiles finally sat back down in his chair and decided to do one last Google search. As the pizza arrives Stiles finds what he is looking for. He isn't sure if it is the smell of greasy food or the last words in the article he was reading, but he is violently sick into his toilet bowl for nearly five minutes. As he leans his head against the bathroom tiles he can't get the two words from the article about the Hale fire out of his head: No Survivors.

TW

'So…' says Doctor Williams, eyeing Stiles with concern. 'How was your stay at home?'

'Great,' replied Stiles. 'I had like an awesome party in which I invited all the friends I've made in the last two years, strangely all the ones from this place RSVP-ed no.'

Doctor Williams wrote something down on her clipboard. 'So it didn't go how you wanted to?'

Stiles raised an eyebrow at her. 'What I want is to wake up and for this all to have been some sick dream.'

'But you know that's not possible now?' asked Doctor Williams.

Stiles looked down at his hands. 'Yes.' After being stuck in this place for nearly a month he knows with each day that passes the chances of him returning home are getting slimmer and slimmer.

'This is progress Mr Stilinski.' Said Doctor Williams, smiling thinly at him.

Stiles doesn't see it as progress, he sees it as himself in some ways throwing in the towel. But he will never get home if he continues to stay at Eichen house. At least at home he can research how he got here, even if he is in a world which seems to contain no supernatural things.

'It doesn't feel like progress, not when I know about the people I am letting go of and leaving behind.' Said Stiles.

Doctor Williams took off his glasses. 'But what about the people you left behind whilst you were ill? Don't they deserve a chance to help you?'

'Can't I have both?' asked Stiles, biting his lip. 'Because where I was, I had both and both were pretty great. In fact both was perfect, I just didn't realise until now.'

'A patient once said to me that life is what happens while we're off making other plans. Perhaps this life wasn't in your plans, but it is the one you've been given.' Says Doctor Williams wisely.

'You make it sound like letting go of Scott is that easy.' Said Stiles, 'like I can raise some type of magical wand and make what I know go away. But I can't.'

'No one is asking you to, they are just asking you to survive.'

Stiles swallowed hard. 'What if I can't?'

Doctor Williams let out a sigh. 'Did your father tell you who is paying for your medical treatment?'

Stiles looked at the doctor, wondering why the question hadn't popped up in his own mind. It was probably the whole adapting to a weird place in which you were meant to believe your best bro was dead and you'd be insane for the last two years…that must be it. 'No.'

'It was Chris Argent. The man lost both his wife and daughter that night, but he couldn't face your Dad loosing you too. He would give anything for his daughter to have a second chance; shouldn't you be grasping your second chance with both hands Mr Stilinski?'

'I have all these memories and I know things…how do I know these things if they weren't real?' asked Stiles desperately.

'You've had a lot of outside stimuli the last two years, even in your catatonic state you could have picked up things…the news…conversations. All which help to contribute to the rich tapestry of the world in which you believed you lived in over the last two years.' Said Doctor Williams.

'Even I haven't got that much of an imagination.' Said Stiles, thinking of all the faces and things he'd seen over the past two years. He found himself once again focussing on the image of Derek in his head.

'You would be surprised.' Replied his Doctor. 'We were thinking about releasing you into your Dad's care for a week next time, obviously you will still be asked to attend regular therapy sessions here. Does that sound something you would be happy about?'

'Yes' answers Stiles without hesitation.

'Brilliant, you're doing well Mr Stilinski. Acceptance is the first step in your road to recovery.' Said Doctor Williams. 'We will start to make plans with your High School for you to return, with a lot of tutoring you should only be a year behind your peers.'

'I look forward to it.' Says Stiles, somewhat sarcastically. Because being a year behind everyone he thinks he knows is just another nail in the coffin of this awful world. He is going back to High school, he was going back to High school and this time there would be no Scott. But maybe he'll be able to see Lydia and maybe Lydia will be able to help him.

TW

Stiles stared at his own bedroom walls, trying to make some sense out of the research he'd been doing on his lap top. He was pretty much still under house arrest after being released into his Dad's care again and was slowly going insane. He'd taken his Adderall as usual that morning and it still wasn't helping him to focus. Before he could stop himself Stiles found he had left his house and was half way down the road. He kept walking until he finally reached a familiar house, a house he almost knows as well as his own.

He walked up to the front door and for a moment lifted up his hand to knock, but at the last minute thinks better of it. Stiles began to turn away, but the door suddenly opens as if it has a life of its own. He half expects to see a smiling Scott at the door, but instead is startle to find Melissa McCall standing there instead.

Melissa looks older and greyer. There are a number of lines around her eyes that Stiles knew weren't there in his world. She also looks sad; it's as if she's wearing the sadness around her like a veil.

'Stiles.' She says softly, a number of emotions pass across her face.

Stiles looked down at the ground, unable to meet her gaze. 'Hi,' he said awkwardly, for the first time feeling uncomfortable around a woman that has almost been a second mother to him. 'I'm sorry for disturbing you, I just…' he trails off.

'Your Dad mentioned you were getting better.' Said Melissa, 'I didn't realise they'd be releasing you so soon.'

Stiles scratched his head awkwardly, trying to ignore the scar on his head that he still isn't used to being there. 'You know me, even a brain damage can't keep me quiet for too long. And to be honest I thought my Dad was having a too easy time without me.' He laughed awkwardly.

'It's good to see you,' said Melissa, she glanced back over her shoulder. 'I've got to go, but please come round any time Stiles.'

'Yeah, I will.' Lied Stiles, seeing Scott's mum is just as hard for him as it is for her. It makes everything more final, it just highlights the fact that Scott has been ripped from both their lives.

Melissa is just about to close the door when Stiles decides he has to say something.

'Scott loved you,' he says quickly, shifting from foot to foot.

She smiles sadly at him. 'I know,' before closing the door on Stiles.

TW

A few days later Stiles let himself through the familiar gate to the cemetery, balancing multiple bunches of flowers (one is even in his mouth) as he closes it behind him. His Dad doesn't know he's escaped the house again and hopefully no one was going to tell on him. It hadn't been easy walking into town either, not when he was used to having full use of his jeep (which apparently was now a chunk of crushed metal somewhere).

He finally came to a stop at Mum's grave, touching the letters on the familiar stone and felt relief that it hasn't disappeared like everything else. He placed all but one bunch of flowers down at it.

'Hey Mum,' he said softly. 'Thought you'd like these, sorry I haven't been here for a while. I'll come a lot more when they officially let me out.'

He stood up and brushed the dirt from the knees of his jeans; knowing today isn't for his Mum but for Scott. It only takes Stiles about two minutes to find Scott's grave; seeing it for real makes Stiles feel as if someone had punched him hard in the gut. He kneeled in front of it; just like he had his Mum's but for once found himself speechless. This was so freaking wrong.

'Hey Buddy,' he finally chokes out, ignoring the burning feeling in his eyes. 'Bet you didn't expect me to visit today, what with the whole being out of action for two years thing. But now that I'm out, they'll have to drag me away.'

Stiles felt a familiar prickle in the back of his neck, but when he looks up he realises he is the only one in the graveyard.

'I'm not giving up on finding a way home, but it's starting to look like it's not going to happen and I'm scared buddy.' Stiles bites down hard on his lip. 'For so long it's been Scott and Stiles and now without you here it's just Stiles. And after everything we've been through the last few years, I don't think I know who just Stiles is any more dude.'

A movement to the side causes Stiles to stand up suddenly, he quickly wipes his cheeks with his hands and isn't surprised by the fact he's been crying. 'I'll be right back buddy, don't you dare tell anyone you've seen me crying because that would be so not cool.'

Stiles swallowed deeply, trying not to let his mind run away from him. Sure he was pretty sure something had been watching him the past few days, but how bad could it be a world where the supernatural doesn't exist? He found himself walking past unfamiliar graves and averts his eyes from looking at the one marked Allison Argent.

He finally stops as he reaches a cluster of graves together, in the place where he could have sworn he'd seen someone. As he finally reaches the spot he sees something that he wishes to God he could un-see: Derek Hale's grave.

'Oh God,' muttered Stiles, feeling the familiar clench in his chest. Was this world just one big lets kicking Stiles when he was down free for all?

'What are you doing here? This is a private plot.'

Stiles practically jumps ten feet into the air. 'Dude! Way to give a guy a heart attack!'

Stiles turned around slowly, feeling his whole body stiffen with the realisation of who is standing behind him. He knows that voice, he knows this man. Before he can stop himself he has thrown himself forward and his arms are around the other man, he clings on hard. He clings on so hard he is pretty sure his fingers are making marks into the other man's leather jacket. But he isn't letting go, not now or ever. It's Derek and Derek is alive.

'What are you doing?' growls Derek. 'Let go.'

Stiles knows that tone of voice anywhere, it pretty much means he has five seconds to let go before Derek rips out of intestines…with his teeth. Stiles finally let go, taking an awkward step back. This Derek doesn't look like his Derek, this Derek is cleanly shaved. Stiles misses the stubble, though annoying it seems every version of Derek Hale has a God like body. Even in this universe Stiles is pale and quite skinny, he really couldn't catch a break.

'Der…' Stiles begins to say, but the expression on this Derek's face isn't friendly. '…ude.'

Derek raises a questionable eyebrow at him. 'Der-ude?'

'It's a new word I'm trying out, in fact a lot of people are using it…haven't you heard anyone use it before?' asks Stiles quickly. He needs to keep talking or Derek might disappear, along with any shred of his sanity. 'Sorry about the whole hugging thing, my bad…brain injury and all that. I seem to like hugging now, hugging strangers…bit awkward. Not that I didn't enjoy the hug, as hugs go it was quite a good hug…well bar the whole you not hugging back thing. Did I mention I had a brain injury?'

'Several times.' Answered Derek.

Stiles finds himself blushing under Derek's intense glare. 'Sorry for disturbing you, I guess I should let you get back to your lurking in quite a creepy way in the cemetery.'

When Derek doesn't answer him, Stiles finds himself unable to move. He's confused and he needs answers. It doesn't help that Derek seems to be staring at him, as if trying to read him like a book.

'Kind of creepy when you stare at me like that dude.' Said Stiles. 'It is basically the look a serial killer would give just before he is about to murder someone. You're not going to murder me, are you?'

Derek's lips twist into a smile. 'Not yet.'

'Good,' said Stiles. Trying to ignore the way his heart was somersaulting in his chest at Derek's smile.

'What happened to your head?' asked Derek, glancing at the jagged scar on Stiles's head.

Stiles reaches out and touches the healed wound, he keeps forgetting it's there. 'I was in a car accident.'

'What happened?' asked Derek.

Stiles feels a little off guard by the concern on the other man's face. 'Still not really sure, my brain is a bit fuzzy. But it seems everyone died, but me. And I am starting to wonder if I'd have been better off dead too because it is all totally messed up.' He felt his cheeks flushing red at the amount of information he has just shared with a random stranger, even if the random stranger looks just like his Derek. And when did Derek become 'his' Derek?

Derek glanced down at the multiple Hale graves in front of him. 'I know how that feels.' He takes one last look at Stiles, as if drinking in the sight of him. 'Derek Hale.'

'Stiles Stilinski.'

Derek smiles almost sadly at him 'I know,'

'Stiles!' shouts a voice from behind him; it sounds like his Dad's.

Stiles turned around and waved at his Dad (who was striding angrily towards him) to signal that he is okay. When he turns back to ask how Derek knows his name, he is bitterly disappointed when he realises that the other man is gone.

TW

Stiles doesn't see Derek or anyone else for the next two days, he is under house arrest again. His only company is a ball that he has been throwing up at the ceiling and catching. The ball he has now fondly named Bill. He throws Bill up high again just as his Dad steps into his room, for a moment he is momentarily distracted and gravity decides in that moment to bring Bill back down right onto his head. Bill's a jerk!

'Do you fancy going out for some food son?' asked his Dad, his way of trying to keep the peace.

Stiles rubbed his head, fixing his Dad with a searching look. 'What kind of food?'

'Pizza,' says his Dad without hesitation.

'And what will you be having while I eat this pizza?' asked Stiles.

The smile on his Dad's face falters. 'A salad?'

Stiles smiled brightly at him. 'Right answer!'

Almost an hour later Stiles is almost lying across his side of the booth and ready to pop out a food baby. He tries not to feel guilty at his Dad, who is still poking woefully as his salad. He'd been eating a burger every day according to one of his Deputies before Stiles came back, so he couldn't feel too bad about this.

His dad almost looks relieved as his cell goes off, pushing away his salad with haste. 'Just going to take this call outside.' He said quickly to Stiles.

Stiles lets out a noise he hopes his father takes as an 'okay', before closing his eyes. Drifting into a food coma right now is all he is fit for. When he opens his eyes again he realises someone is standing over him, someone who isn't his Dad. Stiles sits up to abruptly that he bangs his knee hard on the plastic table. Inanimate objects: 2, Stiles: 0.

'Derek.' Said Stiles, trying his best to look cool.

Derek cocked up an eyebrow in amusement. 'Stiles.'

Stiles finds himself momentary lost for words, the two of them just staring at one another. They both break the silence at the same time.

'No hug this time?'

'Are you stalking me?'

Stiles felt his cheeks go red. 'Dude that was one time! And hello, brain injury!' he points at his scar to emphasise his argument.

'That excuse is only going to last for so long,' said Derek.

'Well we can't all hang around in front of our own graves looking cool in our leather coats.' Replied Stiles.

The smirk on Derek's face falters. 'You're not going to tell anyone about that, are you?'

Stiles felt his heart beat a little faster at the vulnerable expression on this Derek's face. He isn't used to see any emotions other than distaste and annoyance usually. There is something soft about this Derek. By now his Derek would have found some hard surface to push him against and ordered him not to say a word. Stiles hoped nobody ever found out that deep down a weird part of him actually enjoyed it.

'Dude, I'm the kid who's just been let out of Eichen house. Even my elderly neighbour waits by her phone, ready to call my Dad at any sign of a relapse when she sees me outside. Who is going to believe me?' He answers.

'Believe what?' says a voice behind them.

Stiles glanced up, noticing his Dad standing behind Derek. He tries to ignore how Derek is looking like a kid who has just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It's hard sometimes to remember that everything is wrong in this world, that really he doesn't know who everyone is any more and they don't know each other.

'Believe how totally awesome I am.' answered Stiles, saving the situation.

Derek raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn't say a word.

'Aren't you going to introduce us?' asks his Dad; he is unconsciously reaching for his gun, which isn't there.

Stiles panics and the next thing he says just slips out of his mouth. 'This is my friend…Miguel.'

Derek slaps his own head.

His Dad looks between the two of them again. 'Son, if you're going to lie, at least make it believable.'

'You don't think he looks like a Miguel?' asks Stiles, trying to fix his Dad with his most judgemental expression.

'You're a terrible liar.' Muttered Derek under his breath.

Stiles began to fidget in his chair. 'Okay, fine. You both want the real story? I'm not this Stiles and I'm not from this world. And Miguel over there is actually Derek, a werewolf and we know each other because I trespassed over his land this one time after Scott got bit. Derek likes to break into my room and push me up against things and I let him. That's how we know each other.'

The expression on Derek's face makes Stiles believe that he may actually never want to see him again.

'You're so totally going to walk out of that door right now, aren't you?' asked Stiles.

Derek gave a silent nod, before turning and disappearing out of the door so fast that he would give the Flash a run for his money.

His Dad slid back into the seat opposite Stiles, looking strangely apologetic. 'I just wanted an honest answer, not some elaborate lie that would scare the poor guy off.'

Stiles let out a loan groan and placed his head onto the table, softly banging it against it. 'I've never seen him look so terrified.' He groaned, remembering all the times Derek had faced down monsters that still had frequent places in Stiles's nightmares. Who know he could top all of them?

'It's not that bad,' said his Dad, sounding as if he didn't quite believe himself.

'The guy's left skid marks out the floor he bailed out of here so fast.' Said Stiles, trying to figure out why it bothered him so much.

'Maybe it's for the best,' said his Dad. 'You've still not been discharged from Eichen house officially; it's a little too early for you to be thinking about dating.'

'Dating?' Stiles finally lifted up his head. 'What do you mean dating?'

'Well mentally you're still sixteen and he looks like he's at least in his twenties. It doesn't sit very well with me.' Answered his Dad.

'We are not having this conversation,' said Stiles.

His Dad smiles almost shyly at him. 'Well we will have to at some point and it's kind of strangely nice. After everything that happened, I never thought we'd ever get to sit down and have a conversation like this.'

Stiles is torn between hitting his head against the table again and putting his arms around his Dad. 'We don't need to have this conversation, we were just talking. Derek's just a friend.'

'Friend's don't look at each other the way you two were.' Said his Dad, with a twinkle in his eyes.

'Dad!' moans Stiles, throwing a napkin at him. Hopefully they were going to go home and never have this conversation ever again. This world just got a whole lot more weirder.