Hey readers! Thank you so much for reading and (hopefully) enjoying this story. I got some requests for a chapter in Sheriff Stilinski's POV, so here it is. I wasn't originally going to do this so it's a bit different than some of the other chapters. Still, I like it and I hope you do as well!

Sheriff Stilinski forgot to make Stiles' bed this morning. Ever since the day he disappeared, the sheriff has been going into his son's room and making his bed, even though the bed has not been touched since the day before. Still, he does this each day as the sun rises, running his hands over the sheets, folding and refolding the edges of the comforter. It's become a ritual, something he could never forget to do. But he forgot this morning, left the house without even thinking about it.

It's been eight days.

Even that is blurred in his mind, as if his brain wants him to forget to keep track. He desperately hopes he can stop keeping track after today. Today, unlike any other day before, Sheriff Stilinski has a plan.

Well, it's not so much a plan as it is a lead. The station got a call last night about a suspicious trail of blood leading into an unmapped channel of underground tunnels. The sheriff told his inferiors to let him take care of it. They all think it's because he's covered similar case in that area. None of them know the truth; they've all forgotten that the sheriff even has a son.

When he gets to the tunnel's entrance, which was difficult even for him to find, he stops and looks around for any traces of Stiles: a scent, a footprint, a piece of clothing. He scours the entrance for an hour at least but comes up with nothing. The blood that was described stops at the beginning of the tunnels.

The sheriff yells out in frustration, throwing a rock into the dark. An echo rises from the sound of the rock hitting the wall, and Sheriff Stilinski attempts to remember the sound of his son's voice. After years of Stiles' sarcastic remarks, it should be easy to envision. But he can't. He can't hear his son's voice as he makes up an excuse for missing his curfew, or when he jokes with Scott, or when he finds an answer to a seemingly impossible problem. It's as if his voice has disappeared, leaving only a whisper of who he was behind for the sheriff to remember.

"Daddy," Stiles whispered, looking up with worried eyes at his father. "What's wrong?" he grabbed onto the sheriff's hand, sensing that he needed comforting.

"Nothing," Sheriff Stilinski said, blinking back the tears in his eyes. They had gone out for brunch that Sunday for the first time since she died. "Everything's fine, buddy." He tried for a convincing smile, but the look on his son's face told him that he'd failed.

"No it's not," Stiles debated, his forehead crinkling. "We don't lie to each other, remember?" At this, the sheriff did smile a bit, the ends of his mouth turning up slightly. They had promised that a while ago, when Stiles told his father that he was going to the park when he'd actually gone over to Scott's house. That same day, Stiles had caught him filling out medical papers for his mother. Sheriff Stilinski lied and told him that they were tax forms, but even back then Stiles was too clever for his own good. So when Stiles got caught for going to Scott's house, he asked why he couldn't lie if the sheriff could. The kid made an excellent point, so he vowed never to lie to Stiles again as long as Stiles never lied to him.

"I remember," the sheriff said with a sigh.

"So what's wrong?" Stiles asked. Sheriff Stilinski hesitated, not wanting to hurt his son any more than he was already hurting. It could be a hard burden to bear, the truth.

"I can't remember what her voice sounds like," he admitted, deep pain in his voice. "I was trying to conjure up her presence, trying to remember what it was like when she would sit with us here. But I can't remember her voice." He swallowed and hung his head, unable and unwilling to see the surely disappointed look in his son's eyes. "I'm losing her."

"No," Stiles said with such conviction the sheriff's head shot up. "You won't lose her, Dad." The look in his eyes was sincere but stern, as if he needed his father to believe him. "She'll always be here, whether we can see her or not. That's what you told me."

"I know son, but-"

"But nothing. As long as her love for us lives on, she will not be forgotten or lost. I believe that, Dad. I really do." Stiles gave his father's hand a squeeze then went back to eating his pancakes.

"How did you get so wise?" he asked Stiles. Stiles just shrugged his shoulders.

"I just like to think that she's watching over us, you know? And maybe, someday we'll see her again. I don't want her to be disappointed in me when that happens." Now the sheriff grinned widely, wondering how he got such an incredible son, looking up and knowing that it was mostly her doing.

"I don't think she could ever be disappointed in you, son." Stiles smiled, glad for the praise.

"I hope not because I want her to be happy," Stiles said.

"If your mother could see you right now, Stiles, she would be the happiest person who ever lived."

Sheriff Stilinski tries to hold on to the memory for as long as he can before it slips from his mind. It's getting harder and harder to remember him. Continuing his search, the sheriff shines his flashlight into the tunnels. As he's walking into the darkness, he hears a noise behind him. Immediately he turns around and aims his gun. But he only sees three figures coming towards the tunnels.

"Scott?" he vocalizes. Scott's eyes focus on him inquisitively.

"Sheriff? What are you doing here?" Malia and Lydia come into view behind Scott.

"I could ask you the same question but I think we're both looking for the same thing," he answers, and Scott shakes his head. He opens his mouth, perhaps to tell the sheriff what he's found but the words are drowned out by the siren that goes off inside the tunnels. All of them look at each other for a split second before they run towards the sound.

With every step, Sheriff Stilinski feels closer to his son. But he also feels his memories disappearing into thin air. He wonders if he'll even be able remember why he's running by the time he stops, or if maybe he'll just lose his son like he lost his wife.

Sheriff Stilinski runs faster than he's run in his entire life.