Ophelia || Stiles Stilinski

One

It was dark out, the moon shone bright, shimmering through Stiles' opened window. But despite the cool air outside, the boy was sweating, the sheets sticking to his cold skin. Although asleep, the boy's face was etched in horror, his hands wrapping around the bed sheets as if he was in pain.

Mumbling and whimpering, he began to toss and turn before his eyes shot open. Gasping for air, Stiles arms shot out but instead of hitting nothing, his palms hit the lid of a metal box. Trying to calm himself down, he noticed he was in a locker, confused, he began banging, eventually leading the door to snap open.

Stumbling out, he didn't understand how he ended up at school...wasn't he just in bed?

Walking out of the locker room, he started down the familiar hallway. Reaching the main entrance, Stiles noticed an open door, the only open door he'd come across during his walk around the school. Taking a deep breath, he walked towards it, opening it wider to slip in.

To his confusion, the boy was faced with the trunk of the nemeton. Chairs were tossed around and dirt littered the floor of the classroom. Walking closer, he placed his shaking hand on the top. All of a sudden, vines came out of it like arms, wrapping themselves around his arm, pulling him into its bark.

Gasping, Stiles shot up from his bed, his breathing erratic. Was this a nightmare within a nightmare?

"Hey, Stiles, you okay?" Ophelia said groggily, her hands softly touching his arm. "Stiles?" She called again, sitting up this time, her left arm wrapping around his waist.

Letting out a breath, Stiles nodded, "Yeah, I was just dreaming. It was weird. It was like a dream within a dream."

Ophelia's hand was now softly whipping the seat from his cheek, "Like a nightmare?"

"Yeah..." He breathed out, laying his hand on her thigh, gently rubbing her skin to help him calm down. Finally facing her, Stiles paused his gentle caressing, a thought entering his mind, "Wait a second, baby, what are you doing here?" Ophelia was in her new home with her family, not here with him...and she used nicknames more than his actual name.

Before she could answer though, his bedroom door creaked open, "Hang on..."

"Stiles, where are you going?" Ophelia asked him, her voice scared. Stiles knew this wasn't his girl, the tone said it all.

"I'm just gonna close the door."

"Let's just go back to sleep." She tried pushing him back but he held a firm stance.

"No, no, I should close it."

"Don't worry about it."

"What if someone comes in?"

"Who?" He ignored her.

Instead, he got up from his spot on the bed and made his way towards the door slowly.

"Just go back to sleep, Stiles."

"No, but what if they get in?"

"What if who gets in?" Her voice wavered. "Stiles, just leave it. Please." When he said nothing, she tried again, "Stiles. Stiles, come back to bed." She got louder, desperate. "Stiles. Please." The boy wrapped his hand around the door knob and pulled it open. "Don't Stiles. Don't! Don't go in there! Don't! Please, Stiles, don't!" She almost got him, but the side of him that knew it wasn't her pushed him forwards and led him out, her voice stopping immediately.

Instead of his home hallway, however, Stiles walked into the Beacon Hills Preserve. Again, the nemeton trunk was there, sitting right in the middle of the clearing. Lights lit up his view, like the ones at the high school's lacrosse field.