Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf
It was just like any other school night.
Lydia was sitting on her bed in her glamorous bedroom, finishing up the last of her AP Biology homework, a cup of warm tea next to her on her nightstand with her phone by her side in case of any supernatural problems that might come up in the tiniest bit of alone time she gets in her week.
Her mom was out late working, like usual. She wasn't quite sure just how her mother was dealing with the scene she saw the other night at the police station. Lydia knew that her mother didn't know what to make of it, exactly. But she did know that her mother wasn't suspicious of anything supernatural. At least not yet.
She hadn't been expecting any company. Ever since Allison's death, she hadn't really had anyone in her house besides her and her mother. She no longer threw the parties she used to be famous for. She no longer had a boyfriend that she could invite over. Hell, most of the time she was hardly home herself.
So, it came as quite a shock to her when the doorbell rang throughout the house, the echo sounding disturbingly haunting in the quiet house.
Seeing as she had been through quite a lot in the last few years in this town, she grabbed the baseball bat that she kept in the coat closet by the front door in her hand as she slowly made her way to open the door. Wrapping her hand around the doorknob while the other one clutched tightly to the baseball bat, she pulled open the door, sighing in relief at the figure who stood behind it on her porch.
Stiles.
She set aside the baseball bat, leaning it against the wall by the door before she looked back at Stiles. But the relief soon faded away as Lydia saw the look on Stiles' face.
A mixture of terror and guilt was displayed in big letters across his face as he looked down at the ground, his body shaking in just the way that it was noticeable. Her green eyes darted to his left hand that was limp at his side, taking in the familiar state of dried blood covering his fingers and knuckles.
Lydia looked back up at Stiles, to see that his eyes had shifted to her. The whiskey colored eyes that she knew so well, so filled with curiosity and worry for everyone around him, were now filled with terror, guilt, and sadness.
Quickly, Lydia grabbed his arm, pulling him over the threshold of her front door into the house, closing the door behind him. She kept hold of his arm as she dragged him through her house to the kitchen, sitting him in one of the chairs at the island. Scrounging the kitchen for a wash rag, she wet it before walking back over to Stiles, standing in front of him. On the bar stool, he was still taller than her, which gave her perfect access to his blood covered hand.
As she looked more closely to his hand, she realized that the blood was not his own.
They were silent as Lydia carefully cleaned off his blood covered hand. When she was done, she went back to the sink, washing off the now blood stained rag before setting it on the counter, making a mental note to remover it before her mother got home, before she went back over to stand in front of Stiles.
For a few more minutes, they were quiet. Lydia didn't want to pressure Stiles to say anything that he wasn't ready for. He's done this multiple times for her. She can do the same for him.
After about ten minutes of him sitting there and her standing there, he finally spoke up.
"I killed Donovan."
Lydia's eyes widened, not expecting to hear that. She placed a comforting hand on his right that rested on his thigh, her eyes going back to normal size as to not startle him. "What happened, Stiles?" Lydia asks, her voice soft while her thumb rubbed circles on the back of his hand.
Stiles let out a deep sigh before continuing on. "Malia and I were at the school, doing research in the library," he started. Lydia pretended not to wince at the sound of Malia and I. "I must've fallen asleep, because when I opened my eyes again, she was gone. I was by myself. So, I gathered all of my things before making my way out of the library and out to my Jeep.
"I intended to go straight home from there. But that was before my Jeep started having more problems. So, I started fixing it.
"I thought I was alone. I didn't even hear the footsteps approach from behind me. At one moment, I was just standing there, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with my Jeep this time, and the next, there was this agonizing pain ripping through my shoulder. It felt like teeth were biting into my shoulder.
"I tried to fight back. I tried to reach for the wrench that sat on the hood of my Jeep. It took several minutes, but I managed to head butt Donovan, then hit him across the face with my wrench. I started running toward the school, and when I looked back, I saw Donovan already getting up. But there was something different about him.
"There was a stream of blood flowing out of his mouth and down the side of his left jaw. Like blood had dripped from his mouth. But that wasn't the only thing that was off. He had hundreds of teeth in his mouth," Stiles explained.
Lydia closed her eyes tight, letting a deep breath out. "Like a wendigo," she said quietly.
"Exactly like a wendigo. I figured soon enough that he was another chimera. So, I started running toward the school again. I made it to the library, managing to hide behind the bookshelves before he walked in.
"I had dropped my phone while running away from him, and he picked it up, shoving it in his pocket. He started running his mouth about the time my father apparently got his killed when he used to be my father's partner. I got so angry, Lydia, I thought that I was going to go after him right then. But I restrained myself, clutching the wrench in my hand like it was a lifeline.
"When he started going up the steps to the second level, I thought I was in the clear. I start coming out of the bookshelves quietly, making it the row over from the one I was hiding behind. I tried looking up to the second level from underneath, hearing for any footsteps with my back against the bookshelf. When I didn't hear any, that's when I got confused. Seconds later, a hand gripped my opposite shoulder, dragging me back through the bookcase, causing all the books to fall on me, and causing me to lose my grip on my wrench.
"I quickly got up from the ground, running to the elevation thing the construction guys were working on. But Donovan caught up to me, shoving me into the bars roughly, trying to get me to fall back down. I elbowed him in the face, sending him reeling back long enough for me to start climbing up the elevation tower.
"Once he recovered, he started climbing, too, grabbing ahold of my leg. He told me he wasn't going to kill me. He was just going to eat my legs. When I looked back up, I saw a ring that was holding the left side of the tower together.
"I reached for it. It took me several tries before I finally grasped it in my hand, pulling it out. One of the levels fell. A level with a bunch of posts resting on it. They all fell, and I thought I was in the clear for coming back down, when I heard the sickening sound of one of the posts slicing through skin. When I looked back down, I saw that Donovan had been impaled with one, the post propping him up while a pool of blood surrounded him on the ground.
"As I started descending the tower, a bunch of blood bubbled up from his mouth, spreading all over his face. I went to him, grabbing the post, getting ready to pull it out. But when I looked back at his face, I knew that he was already a goner when his head lulled back, his eyes not blinking, his chest not moving.
"I don't know how long I stared at him before I went to the phone, calling the police. I made sure not to speak, letting them think it was a prank call before hanging up. I started to walk out, placing a book in the door so it looked like just anyone could get in. But then I heard my phone start vibrating in his jacket pocket.
"When I walked back over to him, I was waiting for him to just jump scare me. But he never did. With one look at his body, I ran out of there.
"I got my Jeep to work again before the police got there, and I got into it with every intention to just leave. But, when I heard the police sirens, I just put my car in reverse, going back to the parking space behind me by the dumpsters, cutting the engine and the lights.
"While the officer was looking for a car in the area, I ducked behind the dashboard. He was in the school for about ten minutes before he came back outside, talking into his radio. I turned the one I have in my Jeep on, listening to the conversation."
"You know that's extremely illegal, right?" Lydia asked him. He gave her a look, causing her to shut up. "Sorry, continue."
"He had confirmed a prank call, going back to his patrol. And that caused me to start freaking out. So, against my better judgment, I raced back into the school and into the library, to find the scene completely free of blood, completely free of Donovan's body."
Lydia's eyes widened again. "It was gone? No trace?"
"None. The only thing that was proof that there was ever an accident there, was the small streak of blood left on one of the posts. Otherwise, it was completely clean. Completely, Lydia."
For a moment, they just sat there, staring at each other. They were wondering how this could be possible. How could that happen within the time span of about twenty minutes? How was it possible?
Then, Stiles did the unthinkable. He started crying.
Lydia's eyes showed sympathy as she watched a tear roll down his cheek. She brought her free hand up to his left cheek, wiping away the stray tear. "Stiles, calm down. None of this is your fault. It was simply self-defense. Every part of it was justifiable," she told him, trying to make him feel better.
He stood up from his spot on the bar stool, letting both of her hands drop to her sides as he started pacing around the kitchen. "I killed someone, Lydia. I killed someone. How is that justifiable?"
"He was trying to kill you, too!"
"No. He made it very clear that he was only going to tear my legs from my body. Still gruesome, but not murder, Lydia. I murdered him."
His breathing started to become labored. His eyes darted all around. His hands started shaking even fiercer than before. Lydia knew what was happening.
He was in the midst of a panic attack.
Quickly, Lydia ran over to him, gripping his shoulders in her hands, trying to get him to look at her. "Stiles, you know this was self-defense. You know it was! You have to stop beating yourself up about this. He was going to harm you. He was going to do horrible things to you. You had every right to pull that ring on him. You didn't know that one of the posts was going to impale him. This. Is not. Your fault," she tries to tell him, trying to get him to focus on her voice.
He shook his head, his breathing even more labored as his chest rose up and down rapidly, drops of sweat starting to roll down the side of his face. Lydia started lowering him to the floor, getting him to prop himself up on his hands, hers still on his shoulders.
"Stiles, breathe. This wasn't your fault. You did everything you could to get away from him. It's self-defense. This is not your fault. It's not!"
Stiles didn't seem to be listening to her as his eyes screwed shut, trying to calm himself down. But it wasn't working.
Lydia contemplated solving the problem like she did last time. She was worried it would have a different affect this time, because now he had a girlfriend. Would it constitute as cheating? Oh, who the hell cares? He's practically dying in front of her.
So, she grabbed his cheeks, pulling his face up to meet hers. Just like last time, she rubbed his cheeks as his eyes opened, looking frightened as he looked back into her green eyes. She tried sushing him a few times, before leaning forward and harshly pressing her lips to his.
They molded just as perfectly as they did the last time they kissed. Soft against slightly chapped. And even though he had a girlfriend, just as passionate as the previous one.
When they pulled away what felt like hours later, they stared into each other's eyes as intensely as they did in the locker room just last year. With all of the shit they've gone through in the past year, it feels like it's been centuries since their time spent in the locker room floor. Back when their problems, though seemed taxing at the time, were nowhere near as troubling as this time around.
They don't know how long they just sit there staring at each other. It could've been seconds. It could've been minutes. It could've been hours. Neither of them were really sure.
"Why did you do that?" Stiles whispered, effectively breaking the silence that had consumed them.
Lydia let out a small laugh, looking down at the ground with a smirk before her eyes traveled back to Stiles' whiskey ones. "I read somewhere that holding your breath can stop a panic attack. So, when I kissed you, you held your breath," she said, repeating the words she said when she saved him from his previous attack.
He smirked back at her, rolling his eyes. "I did?"
She nodded her head. "Yeah, you did."
And for the next two hours, they sat on the couch in her living room, eating ice cream and watching comedies to try and lift Stiles' spirts to ensure that he wouldn't have another panic attack. It worked, and when his dad called him, asking him where we was, he was sad when he had to go.
As he walked down the pathway of her driveway to his Jeep, a smile on his face at the goodnight kissed she placed upon his cheek, there was only one thing that consumed his thoughts. Or, one person.
There was no way in hell he was over the strawberry blonde, green eyed, five foot three beauty named Lydia Martin.