A/N: This made a lot more sense in the middle of the night.


Lydia is in Stiles' bed.

It's not as uncomfortable as she thought it would be. It's no four poster with Egyptian cotton sheets, obviously; but she doesn't care if this is what it takes to make him feel safe. He hasn't been out long, and she can't imagine what a mental hospital does to a person. So she's staying.

She still remembers what it's like to wake up screaming yourself raw over nightmares.

Stiles shudders in his sleep. He's still sleeping, though -she can tell. They think it's because she's a Banshee, and because it's Beacon Hills the answer could be almost anything before Lydia's surprised. The fact that she can sense his wakefulness is half the reason she's here.

To make sure nothing happens.

Lydia's nearest to the wall, which takes some getting used to. Her own bed is in the middle of her room, and twice the size of his, so she's used to much more space around her. But it's okay. His room smells nice and his comforter is softer than she anticipated.

He's shaking again. She knows better than to wake him up, but Lydia finds his trembling hand and takes it in hers. "Shh, it's okay. It's okay, Stiles. Shh, you're safe. You're safe." He stills after a few heartbeats, and Lydia sighs in relief. She's terrified that he'll look at her the way normal mental hospital patients would -like he doesn't recognize her, like he's lost and scared and he just wants to be gone.

She shudders herself at that, at the image of him behind bars again. Of him being sedated. Of him screaming and lost inside his own head -the one thing she used to be more afraid of than anything.

Lydia resolves not to think about Eichen House again.

She rolls over so she can watch him sleep, even though she could close her eyes and sense it. In, out. Rise, fall.

It's easier to fall asleep to his breathing than to her own empty bedroom.


He's awake.

He's just stumbled to his feet when Lydia snatches his arm. He doesn't move.

"Stiles."

This is why she's here: to make sure nothing happens. He still gets up in the middle of the night and runs of to who-knows-where and is missing for days. He's still fragile.

The nogitsune is gone, but they're scared it'll come back.

Wandering around in the woods alone at night would leave Stiles so vulnerable to it that she has nightmares about it.

"Stiles," Lydia gently tugs him towards her. "Lay back down."

He wavers for three more heartbeats before he slides back into bed. He closes his eyes, but she knows he won't fall asleep for a while.

Lydia touches his cheek. "You're safe, Stiles. It can't get you here."

He shakes again, rolling over and curling into her side, trembling. His skin is cold against hers.

Lydia threads her fingers through his hair. "Shh, it's okay, Stiles. It's okay. You're safe." He stops shaking, and mumbles something incoherent. He's drifting off, she can feel it.

"I won't let it get you, it's okay. It's okay, Stiles. I've got you. I won't let you go."