Hey There Little Red Riding Hood (Fox Stiles)

Chapter Sixteen(I think I love You)

"S-Stiles?"

Am I dreaming? It can't be real. He's dead. I know he is. I remember sitting in the hard, plastic hospital chairs just outside the Sheriff's room listening to one of the deputies explain what happened. There was a car crash. They couldn't find the body. I hardly paid any attention to the mass of people moving around the hallways or the ringing in my ears. I heard people crying but I just sat there. I remember the words spoken, the faces seen, the tears that they cried themselves.

I recall the painful final chorus of words spoken at his funeral. I was standing at least twenty feet away - too afraid to be seen, but I watched as they talked about him and stared solemnly at his gravestone. I remember saying goodbye to him more than once.

Yet for some reason, I can see him now. He's standing across the room, his face is unreadable. Soft slow tears are falling down his cheeks. He sniffs a little making him seem even more real. I take another small step toward him. My fists are clenched, my heart is pounding, and fear wretches through my body. I feel the prickle of stares from everyone in the room.

Is this even real?

I need this illusion to go away so I approach the image of Stiles and with one palm and cup his cheek. His skin is smoother than I remember, paler but it feels so real. His body is trembling, yet he still flinches when I touch him and steps back. My wolf is howling in my head but I feel like I'm suffocating.

All the air has left my lungs and my head is spinning. Why am I dreaming, I haven't even gone to sleep yet? Why does his touch feel so real? Why is he here now? Why am I fantasizing about Stiles? He's dead. This makes no sense. I'm so confused.

"Derek," Deaton says softly, "I think we should all sit down and explain what is going on. This is a huge shock to you I understand but Stiles-"

With widened eyes, I snap my head to him. "Did you say, Stiles? Do you see him too?"

"Derek please come sit down," he says in his soft comforting tone.

Deaton's hands are on my shoulders and he's is turning me to face himself. I glance over at Stiles as he looks at me with a blank stare, shock, and sadness evident on his face.

I can't tear my eyes from what I thought was a figment of my imagination and Stiles says, "Derek it's me. It's really me. I never really died but you have to understand-"

My body is trembling and my knees are weak as I yell, "Understand what!? Who the hell are you!?"

I'm angry and scared but my wolf is happy and urges me to go to him but I can't. I feel more hands try to pull me to sit but I don't move I just stare at Stiles who has a hurt expression on his face. Yet when I really look I see his familiar doe eyes and the small moles that dot his almost white skin. His hair is practically the same as when I saw him last, slightly longer than the buzzcut - fluffy and brown with strands falling on his forehead.

He's beautiful.

But he's not real.

With his eyes still glued to me, I look into them and his tears stream down his face and I know my tears are flowing without control. "Derek do you understand what I'm saying...Do you hear me?"

I don't let him finish as my hands push him away with the full force of my body. "What the hell are you talking about. You're dead."

Deaton is pulling me away and Stiles hand reaches out to grab for me but never touches. I can't feel my legs, they aren't there to support me any longer. The room is spinning and I lose all sense of what is real. I feel myself start to fall but his strong arms clutch me tightly, unfamiliar but there.