Into the Rabbit Hole and Through the Looking Glass || Stiles & Ben
Stiles woke up, her mind still completely fuzzy from what happened the previous evening, whatever that was. Groaning, she lay back down in the plush covers, trying (in vain) to hide her face from the sunlight streaming in through the big bay windows outside, before bolting upright in bed. Something didn't feel right; I mean, it felt like she was waking up from a dream, and one that was very realistic at that. She felt as if her mind was attempting to right itself, everything feeling rather surreal, the seeming remnants of a dream lignering with her like the smell that cigarettes leave in your jacket, wafting over you and staying with you for far too long, and that you could probably smell on yourself a month or so later.
In fact, if Stiles closed her eyes, she could still see the images of the life that she felt so strongly belonged to her play like a miniature film behind her eyes. Sitting in an Impala, laughing with Ben, sleeping in a god-awful motel, teleporting, and wings, and monsters and so many other memories that she currently wasn't sure where her own, but had to be at the feelings that they stirred up. However, when the young girl opened her eyes, she knew that this; the big bed, the light, everything. That was what was real, and it must just be all part of some bittersweet dream that was bordering on a nightmare.
