Author's Note: New story! No hate, please!

Chapter 1

Stiles Stilinski's brown eyes slowly fluttered open. At first, he wasn't sure where he was. But, as things became less blurry and he looked around, he knew.

"Oh, God. Please no." He muttered as he sat up.

Eichen House.

No one else was in the room. An unmade bed on the other side of the room was the only signal that anyone belonged there.

The door opened, and Ms. Morrell, his former guidance councilor, who he knew worked at Eichen House because of his past experience, walked in. Stiles stood up. "Stiles?" She questioned, seeming breathless. "You're awake?" Morrell looked at Stiles in disbelief. "You're awake!" She pulled him into a hug and then held him out at arm's length. "Sorry. I'm Ms. Morrell." Morrell held out her hand for a shake.

"I know who you are." Stiles gave her a confused look. "You used to be my guidance councilor. At Beacon Hills High, remember?"

"I was a guidance councilor at Beacon Hills High..." She started, looking at Stiles like he was crazy. "But you never went there."

"What are you talking about?" He laughed. "What in the hell is going on?"

"You never went to high school. You've been in Eichen House since the eighth grade." Morrell was talking to him in a way that confused Stiles. No one had ever talked to him like he was a psychopath before.

"What?" Stiles sat back down on his bed.

"Stiles, I've been in charge of watching you since you came, and I've been very worried about you." She sat next to Stiles. "You've been asleep for a long time."

"How long?" Stiles questioned, running a hand through his hair.

Morrell stared at him. "Three years."

Later, Stiles walked around Eichen House, completely dumbfounded. He tried to tell Morrell that it was all just a big misunderstanding, but she wouldn't listen.

"Everything you saw, everything you felt, it was a dream." She tried to convince him.

"No, you don't understand-"

"It was a dream, Stiles. None of it actually happened."

It was almost like she was trying too hard to make him think so. Stiles had a feeling she knew something about what was going on.

A cop brushed past him, and he immediately recognized him as his father, the Sheriff.

"Dad!" He called, running up to him. "Dad!" Stiles touched the Sheriff's shoulder. "Dad, it's me!"

His father turned around with a cold look on his face. "Excuse me?"

"Dad, it's Stiles, your son!" Stiles tried to smile at him, but it was hard because he was so confused. "Why am I in here?"

Sheriff Stilinski brushed Stiles' hand off him and glared, although he looked more upset than angry. A few tears were held back in his eyes. "My son?" He scoffed. "My son?" The Sheriff pressed a finger into his chest. "What do you take me for, huh?" He started to back away. "I never had a son."

"What?" Stiles took a step back.

"Oh, and if you're wondering why you're in here..." Sheriff Stilinski held Stiles by the collar of his shirt and brought him closer so he could say in a low voice, "Maybe it's because you go around filling in the shoes of people you don't have anymore with people you've never even met before, Or, perhaps, you're just crazy. That might explain why you're in this nuthouse." He let go of Stiles and started to walk away.

"But, Dad-"

The Sheriff turned around and cut him off. "For the last time, kid, I am not your father!"

A few people stared at Stiles and Sheriff Stilinski. The Sheriff cleared his throat as he whipped back around.

And then he was gone.