Like it says in the description this is part of the Seasons-verse, and a companion to another story I'm currently posting called Cicurate. I highly recommend that you read the three chapters of that that are up before reading this, otherwise a few things might not make sense.

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After what happened yesterday with Lydia, Stiles found himself worried. People didn't just suddenly know about werewolves, and it was killing him not knowing how she'd found out. So even though she probably didn't want to talk to him he went over to her house anyways and knocked on the door.

Faintly he could here music and it got louder when she opened the door. Only to become faint again when she slammed the door in his face. Not willing to give up he pounded on the door. "Come on Lydia, I just want to talk. I'm worried about you."

He didn't hide his relief when she opened the door once again. Though the look she gave him could probably curdle milk.

"What Stiles?"

He shuffled his feet because, really, there was no good way to ask someone how they'd found out about werewolves. He wondered if his hands twitching was going to become a nervous tic. "So uh, how are you?"

She gave him a flat look. "I'm fine Stiles. If all you're going to give me is banal conversation then leave."

OK, time to hopefully redeem himself. "I'm not doing that at all! This is us, not having a banal conversation."

"Just ask Stiles."

So he took a deep breath and just went for it, because seriously how bad could it be? "How did you find out about werewolves?"

"Peter told me"

"Peter, Peter who. . ." His mind races thinking of all the Peter's the both of them knew that could possible know about werewolves. And then his brain did a sort of short circuit because it was a list of one. "Do you mean Peter Hale?"

She sighed, "No Stiles, Peter Peter Pumpkin-eater. Yes Stiles! Peter Hale told me."

And this was not happening, this could not possibly be his life. "Lydia. . .Peter's dead."

She looked him straight in the eye. "Not anymore."

Oh, God. "People don't just come back from the dead!"

Without any warning whatsoever she grabbed his over shirt and pulled him in, slamming the door behind them. Her tone was as dry as the desert. "Peter is hardly 'people' Stiles, for one he's a werewolf and for two he's crazy."

He could feel parts of him start to twitch, and he tried to stop it because he knew exactly what they meant. He had to remind himself to take deep breaths; he could stop the attack before it started, he just needed to focus on what was going on. "OK, so who else knows?"

"Derek knows, he was there when it happened. And I think Dr. Deaton suspects, if he doesn't already know." She shrugged. "Probably the rest of his pack. Honestly I couldn't care less."

He probably looked like a fish, but her lack of investment was freaking him out. "He tried to kill you and you're not freaking out that he's back?"

He knew the rubbing temples tick well enough to understand that she was resisting the urge to probably strangle him. "Stiles. I am going to say this in small words so your ADHD brain can understand it alright? Peter has been living in my brain for the past five and a half weeks. So excuse me if I don't find the fact that he's out of it terrifying."

Even for him it was a lot to take in and it took him a while to get all the scattered pieces in a comprehensible order. It made him realize the past few weeks must have been hellish for her. He can't even begin to understand what that would have been like. He felt even worse now for all the brush-offs he'd given her. "I didn't know."

"Boo fucking hoo, Stiles. Did you ever wonder if it's because you've been to wrapped up in your own little world?"

Aaannnnd that revoked her sympathy card so fast he nearly got whiplash. Her apathy ignited the helpless anger that had been sparking inside him ever since the pool. "Yeah, well maybe trying to stop Jackson from killing anymore people or being killed himself is more important than your little haunting."

And she froze, eyes wide. "Jackson?"

Anger obliterated any pity he might have felt for her at that. "You remember Jackson right? Your ex-boyfriend? He tried to become a werewolf but went all vengeance lizard instead. Scott and I have been trying to make sure that Derek and his pack don't kill him! And we're pretty sure something's going to go down at the game tomorrow so we've been working our asses off trying to come up with a plan where everybody who's relatively good lives."

Before he knew it she was grabbing his ear like he was ten and his baba had caught him misbehaving again. "Tell me everything."

Even as angry as he was her 'I'm queen bitch, do what I say or I rip your fucking head off' tone had him telling her everything.

As he drove home his mind rushedrushedrushed to make sense, to connect the dots. Peter was a headache inducing wild card that could go either way. He wrestled with the idea of telling Scott, but besides the fact that Peter was back he didn't know anything else. He should have asked Lydia more questions, though he didn't even know if she would have been able to answer them. Was Peter the Alpha now or was it still Derek? (He hoped to God it was Derek) Did Peter know about the Kanima and what was going on? (Stiles was sure that if he didn't when he came back he probably did now, mother pheasant plucker) What would Peter do when he found out about the pack, or Gerard?

His brain hurt from the question overload. But trying to save the lives of people he cared about mattered more than his own little pain.