This was not how tonight was supposed to go.
Lydia sat on the floor in the middle of her bedroom. Her bookshelf lay toppled, the books spilling from it bent and torn. Shards of broken knick-knacks littered the floor. Her bed was a disaster zone: the mattress lay half-off the box spring, the headboard splintered into several pieces. A deep red blotch stained the carpet near what used to be her window. Another blossomed out from under the debris that had been her bookshelf.
A gust of wind ruffled Lydia's hair. She absentmindedly fingered half of an academic decathlon trophy, running her index finger over the cool glass.
"Shit!" Welling blood dripped from her finger to the carpet. Just another stain to join the others. She wasn't going to cry. Not again. Wrapping her finger in the hem of her dress, she took a few deep breaths to steady herself.
"Lydia?" Isaac's voice outside her open door was tentative, like he was afraid of scaring her.
She didn't look up. She wasn't sure she wanted to see anybody right now, including Isaac. Especially Isaac.
The crunch of glass warned her that he was approaching. She closed her eyes and a few tears escaped against her will. Isaac settled next to her. He drew in a breath like he was about to say something.
"Don't," she cut him off. "Don't tell me that everything's going to be fine. Because it's not and you know it." She opened her eyes, then, looking straight into his. "We survived tonight, but who says we'll survive tomorrow night, and the night after that? The death count is mounting and statistically we have a ridiculously low chance of survival. Beacon Hills isn't that big, Isaac, and the population is dropping by the day."
Isaac, bless him, didn't say a word. Resting his arm on her shoulders, he tugged her toward him. This was better than words. For a moment, at least, Lydia felt safe. Nothing in her life made sense anymore except Isaac, which was stupid because whatever this was with Isaac wasn't making much sense these days.
She breathed in the scent of him. It was funny, she'd started this awful night in his arms, thought she was safe. Nobody was safe anymore in this cursed town. Nobody.
Earlier that day...
Lydia's backyard twinkled with light. Strands of tiny, decorative lights ran along the fence and in the trees. Food and drinks were neatly spread on an array of tables on the patio. The pool lights glowed a calm blue.
Lydia smiled at her work. An impromptu party was the perfect idea to lift her spirits.
"Are you sure a party is a good idea?" Allison's voice sounded through the speaker on Lydia's phone which sat on the table.
"School starts in a few weeks, my parents are out of town, and they left me their credit card. Yes. A party is the only idea." With all the crazy that happened last year, Lydia needed this. It was exactly the right way to get ready for a new school year which would be (hopefully) free of supernatural drama. Okay, there wasn't really much hope of that, but she was going to keep believing it until her fantasy came crashing down, presumably right on her head.
"I don't know. It's just that the alphas-"
Lydia picked up her phone and switched it off speaker. She absolutely did not need to be broadcasting werewolf drama where her neighbors could hear it.
"One, we have no idea who these alphas are or if they're really out there plotting against us. Two, if they are out there, why the hell would they care about my party? Three, it's not like I'm planning on inviting them. Come on Allison. It's a party. Teenagers have them all the time. People have fun, get drunk, do stupid things, and live to talk about it the next day. I'm doing this."
Allison sighed. Lydia could practically hear her mentally creating a list of weapons she was going to be bringing with her. Whatever. Allison could worry all she wanted; Lydia was not giving up on this.
"You know the entire pack is likely to show up, right? Even if they're not invited."
"I couldn't care less," Lydia lied. "Everything will be fine, Allison. I won't let it go any other way."
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. .
"Oh, God. This isn't about the party. It's because you'll have to see Scott, isn't it?"
"It's mostly about the party," Allison insisted.
"Sure it is." Lydia smiled. "You have to see him eventually. This is probably the best way, to be honest. You can set the boundaries you want now so you don't have to worry about it when school starts."
"Whatever. I'll see you soon, okay?"
"Sounds great. Bye!" Lydia hung up the phone before Allison could start arguing again.
She turned and surveyed the yard, giving everything one final inspection. Perfect. She smiled contentedly. Now for the finishing touches.
She hurried inside and upstairs. She slipped off her skinny jeans and tunic, tossing them into the white wicker hamper in her closet, and pulled on the dress she'd picked out for the evening. It was a blue, cotton sundress, exactly the color of Isaac's eyes.
Not that she'd been thinking of that when she bought it, she told herself sternly. But as she smoothed a few wrinkles out of the skirt, she sighed. She shouldn't lie to herself, that was just too sad. Of course she was attracted to it because it reminded her of Isaac. He was on her mind more often than she was comfortable with, these days.
She sat down at her vanity and rifled through her jewelry. She needed something just right for tonight.
"You look beautiful without the jewelry, you know."
Lydia's heart went wild. She stifled her shock to the smallest flinch. "You're sweet." She glanced at him casually (she hoped it looked casual, anyway) in her mirror while she picked up a simple pair of pearl earrings and slipped them on.
Isaac leaned against her door frame, smiling his sly half smile. Lydia knew he had heard her heart skip a beat when he spoke, and could hear it now, racing in her chest. It wasn't all surprise, either. Just the sight of Isaac made her giddy. And tonight? Tonight he looked good. Dark wash jeans hung perfectly on his long legs and he wore a simple, charcoal grey v-neck that clung to his muscles in all the right places.
"But who needs flattery when you can stop a girl's heart with your mere presence," she asked, not quite accusatorily. But really, did he have to keep showing up like this? She was never composed the way she wanted to be when she was around him anyway, adding the element of surprise was just mean.
Lydia looked back down, finally finding the necklace she was looking for. It was a small silver wolf on a delicate chain. She'd had it for years - since before this whole werewolf ridiculousness had started - but hadn't worn it more than a few times. She unhooked the clasp and pulled it on, holding the two ends behind her neck. Making eye contact with Isaac in the mirror, she silently asked him to clasp the necklace for her. It was a small request, but Isaac suddenly looked nervous.
Lydia smiled encouragingly as he walked up behind her. She could feel the heat of him on her back. All she wanted in the world in that moment was to lean back against him and have him hold her. It was irrational and weird, considering how excited she'd been at the prospect of a party just a few minutes earlier. But that was her life recently - irrational and weird. She was merely maintaining the status quo.
Her breath caught as he took the necklace from her, his fingers brushing her own and the sensitive skin at the base of her neck. Those fingers trembled a little as he fumbled with the clasp for a moment before finally succeeding.
He didn't let go immediately. He placed one finger under the chain, pulling it slightly away from Lydia's neck. He followed the chain, just barely keeping his finger from touching her, until he reached the wolf charm. He was likely to kill her with this almost touching business. She was struggling to keep her breathing steady, and she could feel a slight flush beginning to blossom out from her nose.
He held the small charm in his long fingers, looking down at it. Lydia looked too, if only to stop herself from staring at him in the mirror.
"They always make wolves look so cute and fluffy," Isaac said softly, "like they're puppies begging to be pet."
Lydia gave a small, breathy laugh. "Aren't they, though?"
Isaac let go of the necklace and stepped back. She missed his warmth at her back, and worried she'd said the wrong thing. She was an expert at saying the wrong thing, even if it was true. If she kept her big mouth closed she wouldn't get into half of the situations in which she found herself. She'd meant what she said though, even if she said it in jest. Most of the supernatural problems in Beacon Hills began because someone wanted their ego stroked.
There was a long, silent moment during which Lydia refused to look up. She touched the charm at her throat lightly because she needed to do something with her hands. She felt rather than saw Isaac sit down next to her. He moved so silently, even just a few feet away from her. She was always surprised by that.
They sat there for a minute, neither one of them willing to be the first to speak.
Lydia could feel him watching her, but she refused to meet his eyes. The silence seemed to stretch out for ages. Impatient, Lydia broke. The party was supposed to start soon. She needed to finish getting ready. She turned toward him, "Isaac, look-"
He cut her off with a kiss.
His mouth descended, hard and insistent, on hers. As their lips met, his hands tangled in her hair, fingers tugging through the perfectly arranged copper curls. She couldn't care less. She wanted his hands everywhere. Slipping her arms between his, she placed her hands on either side of his face, ready to hold him there if he tried to pull away.
He didn't.
He coaxed her mouth open under his, slipping his tongue inside. Lydia matched his enthusiasm, meeting his caresses stroke for stroke. She pressed herself against him as much as she could without toppling off the small vanity bench. She wanted to be touching as much of Isaac as possible.
He wordlessly agreed. His hands traveled down her back, sending a wave of heat through her. It sizzled out from where his hands stroked all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes. He scooped her into his lap, where she settled happily, hitching one leg over his to straddle him. She grasped his shoulders for support.
He broke the kiss gently, pulling back to look at her while resting a hand on her hip. He brushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, smiling softly as if he was ready to stop.
"We are so not finished here." Lydia balled a handful of his t-shirt in her fist and pulled him back to her. She trailed a string of feather-light kisses down his neck. Planting the first right behind his ear, she listened to his breathing falter as she slowly moved down to where his shirt v-ed, blocking her progress. She ran her hands down his chest, smoothing the wrinkles she'd put in his shirt as she went. It was a simple touch. Almost chaste. Almost.
She slipped her fingers under his shirt and let her hands roam up over his abs, settling on his chest. He may have looked wiry, but Isaac had some serious muscle going on. He was breathing hard. She could feel his heartbeat jump under her hand. Lydia looked up, meeting his eyes.
They both froze, realizing at the same moment that they'd reached the point of no return. They'd never done more than kiss. Though it sounded stupid when she tried to say it out loud, they spent most of their time together just talking. They talked about anything. Everything. Trivial things mostly, and nothing supernatural. It was calming to take a step back from the craziness of the previous year. To be just a teenager for a few precious minutes of a day. It was almost impossible to do anymore, and Lydia treasured it. But whatever this was between them was about to change, she could feel it. The tension was at a boiling point, and Lydia wasn't willing to dial back the heat.
Isaac - blasted gentleman that he was - was waiting for Lydia to make up her mind. Was waiting for her to take the next step. He wasn't going to press this on her. Silly, silly boy. Lydia had made up her mind weeks ago. He wouldn't be here if she hadn't. She wasn't exactly sure where this was going, but she was on board and ready to find out.
Isaac leaned forward so that his forehead gently met hers. That simple contact almost broke Lydia. It was a promise of something more than a physical connection. She hadn't though she wanted that so soon after Jackson. This whole thing was Isaac had started as a summer fling, but now she didn't think she could bear it if that's all it turned out to be.
She closed the incredibly small distance between their lips and gave him a swift, warm kiss. He growled, the soft noise coming from somewhere deep in his chest. It was far sexier than it should have been.
Lord help her, he was physically growling and she couldn't get enough of it. She had to remember to cross-examine Allison about the perks of dating a werewolf, because they were definitely piling up fast.
Isaac's kiss stopped her wandering thoughts instantaneously. It was demanding and hard. The kind of kiss Lydia was used to giving, not receiving. She pulled her hands out from under his shirt and wrapped them around his neck, running her fingers through his hair and pulling him as close as she could get him. She gave what he demanded, and made her own demands in turn.
He wrapped his arms around her back and stood, scooping her with him so they didn't have to break the kiss. Lydia wrapped her legs around his waist, though there was no need. Isaac was perfectly capable of carrying her without any sort of assistance. But really, was Lydia going to deny herself the opportunity when it was presented? She wasn't one to deny herself much of anything.
Isaac took one step toward the bed. Lydia wished he'd move faster, the infuriating boy.
Someone cleared their throat in the hallway.
They froze. There was an uncomfortable pause in which Lydia felt fury and mortification in equal parts. People must have started to show up for the party.
She wondered how long they had been standing there. Her fury was quickly overshadowing any embarrassment. Seriously. Who does that?
"Quite the display of strength, Isaac."
No, no, no, no. That voice didn't belong to a guest. Lydia knew that voice.
"I mean, it would be more impressive if it weren't Lydia. She weighs next to nothing. If it had been Scott I'd be impressed. And altogether unsurprised."
Peter Hale.
She let herself panic for the briefest second. Let the rushing behind her ears overtake her. Let all the fear and pain of last year attack her senses.
Then she stopped it.
She took a steadying breath and unhooked her legs from behind Isaac's back. He set her gently on the ground, still standing between her and the door - blocking her from view as she smoothed her dress and hair.
"We did knock." Derek's voice sounded apologetic.
Great. Two Hales for the price of one.
Isaac was clearly livid. She could feel the tension roll through him even though they were no longer touching.
Lydia stepped forward, placing her fingers lightly on Isaac's wrist as she did so. This wasn't the time to get into it with the Hales. She hoped it was never the time for that, honestly. Isaac followed her lead and turned to face the door. He took her hand in his as he did so, ever so slightly rubbing his thumb along her palm in a soothing pattern.
Derek stood right inside her bedroom. He wore his usual all black, complete with the leather jacket that he must have thought made him look mysterious and cool. Maybe if Lydia didn't know him it would have worked. It didn't help that he looked exhausted and genuinely embarrassed that he had walked in on them. Being Derek, however, he hadn't been able to leave well enough alone and just, well, leave.
Peter, curiously, leaned on the door frame just outside of the room. His posture seemed deliberately non-threatening - his lounge casual, his hands shoved in his pockets. Despite his bold words earlier, he refused to meet Lydia's eyes, shifting his focus to Isaac after a fleeting glance in her direction. Apparently taste in clothing was hereditary, as Peter sported what appeared to be a mirror image of Derek's ensemble, but with a deeper v-neck and without the jacket. Maybe all the black just went with the Hales' brooding werewolf persona.
"I'm sorry; I don't remember any Hales on the invitation list." Lydia looked pointedly at Peter, but it was Derek who responded.
"Lydia, this party is a terrible idea."
She shifted her focus to Derek as he spoke. Arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow, she replied, "And I don't remember asking you for your opinions about my social life either."
Isaac, faking a calm Lydia did not believe due to the pressure with which he was squeezing her hand, interrupted: "Derek, I told you that we'll be fine. Scott and I-"
"Couldn't fight off one alpha, let alone a whole pack," Peter stood up to his full height and pulled his hands out of his pockets as he spoke. Isaac, practically bristling, released Lydia's hand and took a step toward the older man.
Peter continued, unperturbed: "You have no idea how dangerous these-"
Lydia cut him off with a wave of her hand. She was mildly surprised that it worked. All three men actually shut up and looked in her direction.
"This," she gestured to the three werewolves, "is not a discussion that needs to happen in my bedroom, if it even needs to be happen at all. I'm going to go make sure everything's ready. You guys can do what you want, but you," she pointed at Peter, "are not welcome in my home. Please see yourself out." With that she walked over to her vanity, slipped on her black, patent leather high heels, and walked out of her room without a backward glance.
Lydia muttered quietly to herself as she walked down the stairs: "Stupid fucking werewolves." She knew that they could still hear her, but she didn't care. She was violently frustrated, in more ways than one. She was upset (if not surprised) the Hales would come here, but mostly she was livid that they had interrupted her moment with Isaac. It was probably a good thing they had, because Lydia had been ready to throw her clothes off and sleep with Isaac right then. Sure they would have inevitably been interrupted by party-goers eventually, but it was the principle of the thing. The pure, painful reminder that the werewolves were intruding on every part of her life, in every way imaginable. They didn't need to add insult to injury by literally bursting into her bedroom on a whim. There was a line, and they'd crossed it.
She strode through the kitchen and flung open the back door, almost tripping over Scott and Stiles in the process. Stiles, with his usual grace, stumbled away from the door at the last second, almost dropping the huge bag of ice he carried.
"We brought ice!" Lydia loved the way Stiles announced things like this unnecessarily. It was rather cute.
"Great. Could you put it in the cooler over there?"
Stiles complied clumsily. Scott tossed the bag of ice he was carrying into the cooler, then stood up straight and tilted his head, as if her were listening to something she couldn't hear.
"Are they still going on up there?"
Scott smiled apologetically. "Yeah. Sorry about all this. Derek can get aggressively protective sometimes." His forehead creased with passing worry. "But don't tell him I said that. I'd never hear the end of it."
Lydia laughed. "It's not your fault, Scott. The Hales think they rule the world. Or Beacon Hills at any rate. I don't think anything short of death is going to stop that." She paused, "I guess death doesn't really stop it either." She said it lightly, hoping her blasé tone would convince Scott and Stiles that she was over everything that had happened last year. She hoped one day she could convince herself of the same.
Scott reached out and gave her head a reassuring squeeze, releasing it just as quickly. "They're headed this way."
The doorbell rang.
"Everything's set. Let's get this party started!" Lydia forced a little of her enthusiasm, but by the time she made it to the door to find Allison and a group of their classmates, and saw Peter retreating into the distance, her spirits were beginning to lift.
"I would say that this has been a rousing success." Isaac dropped an arm around Lydia's shoulders as he leaned against the table next to her. "No scenes, just the right amount of alcohol, and only Derek looks like he's not having any fun."
Lydia glanced toward Derek, who was creepily leaning against the fence in the corner of the yard. His body language and outright glower kept most people from approaching him, though Lydia had seen a few of the bolder (and a few of the tipsier) girls try and fail to lure him into conversation. Now he was fiddling with his phone, texting or something. He looked angrier than he had all night. Lydia couldn't care less. It's not like she invited him.
It was past midnight and the party was winding down. Lydia was basking the glow that only a couple of drinks and a successful party could give her. She felt light and giddy for the first time in almost a year.
Only a handful of people outside of the normal (Lydia almost laughed at the thought; her friends were anything but normal) crew remained. Allison and Scott were avoiding each other like the plague, but had been watching each other the whole night. They still deeply cared for one another, Lydia could tell, but they weren't going to admit it anytime soon.
At the moment, Scott was sitting with Stiles near the back door doing his best impression of someone who wasn't staring at his ex-girlfriend talking to other guys. Stiles was clearly in the middle of a story, his arms swinging dramatically as he spoke. Scott was trying to pay attention, but Lydia watched his gaze consistently fall back on Allison across the yard.
Allison, oblivious of Scott's stare, was deep in conversation with a couple of boys Lydia had never seen before. Allison laughed at something one of them said, and shot a glance Lydia's direction. The boys turned to look her way, revealing charming, and identical, smiles.
Twins. Good lord, Allison had befriended a set of devastatingly good looking twins. Honestly, they were ridiculously attractive - tall, blond, square chinned, and fit.
She felt Isaac's arm tighten around her, and she smiled up at him. "Allison looks like she's having a good time," she murmured.
Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Enjoying the view?"
"Anyone with a pulse should be enjoying that view. But I like my view better." She leaned in and kissed him. It was fleeting, just a peck on the lips, really, but the look in Isaac's eyes when she pulled away had her heart pounding in her chest.
Lydia made a decision. She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the house.
"What?"
"Come on!"
He didn't argue again. He did, however, lean down and swiftly press a kiss on her shoulder. She shivered, in the best way, and pulled him inside and through the house.
She giggled, tripping over the stairs, and Isaac scooped her up and carried her the rest of the way to her bedroom, shutting the door behind them.
"I can walk, you know. You're always looking for an excuse to show off your werewolf strength."
Isaac set her down gently on her feet. "Maybe I just couldn't wait the extra five seconds to get you well and truly alone."
Lydia smiled. "Maybe both?"
"Definitely both," he conceded.
He didn't have the words out of his mouth before Lydia kissed him. Grabbing the back of his neck, she pulled his mouth down to meet hers. Lips and tongues tangled. Lydia had Isaac's shirt off in seconds. She was done waiting. Once she had his shirt over his head she closed in and renewed the kiss. She curled her hands around his back and brushed her fingers over his warm skin. She could feel his muscles move beneath her fingers. His fingers curled in her hair, holding her close.
A shrill ringing pierced the quiet of the room. Isaac was the only person Lydia knew whose phone still actually rang.
He spoke against her mouth, refusing to break the kiss. "Not important."
The phone continued to ring as he took a step backward, pulling her with him. He stopped when the backs of his legs brushed against the bed. His phone stopped ringing, and Lydia could hear their breathing again. In and out, faster every second.
Isaac slowly lowered himself onto the bed. Lydia followed, straddling his lap.
Lydia's phone interrupted them, playing Bastille's "Pompeii" softly. Isaac almost stopped kissing her. "Leave it," she commanded. He hesitated a moment, a worried look flashing across his features. Lydia couldn't have that.
"Leave it," she said again, more softly, settling more firmly onto his lap. Intentionally teasing him.
He growled softly. Again with the growling. Lydia was quickly becoming convinced that dating a werewolf was well worth the trouble because that small, possessive growl was hotter than anything she'd ever heard.
She felt Isaac's muscles move half a second before she found herself being flipped over, ending up lying on the mattress with Isaac above her. Though the movement had been sudden, it was gentle. He'd even managed to get her head on the pillows.
Her phone had stopped ringing, she realized. Good. Maybe whoever it was would take the hint. She had a shirtless Isaac on top of her. She wasn't going to let anything interrupt her now.
Almost before she finished her thought, there was the intense sound of breaking wood and glass, and a massive shape propelled through her window. Isaac barely had time to look up before the shape tackled headlong into him, throwing him off of Lydia and the bed and into the bookshelf.
She lay there, frozen in shock, for a few seconds as Isaac and the other werewolf (Lydia thought that's what it was, but it was huge - scary huge) wrestled out of her line of vision.
"Lydia, run!" Isaac rasped. Lydia jerked her head toward the sound of his voice. Her shelf had given way when the pair had slammed into it. Books were spilled everywhere, and the wolves ripped through them as they fought. Or, more accurately, as Isaac was attacked. He didn't have a chance of making much headway when his opponent was twice his size and, from the look of things, twice as fast.
Lydia rolled off the far side of the bed. She heard rather than saw Isaac smash into the bookshelf yet again. She ducked for cover as splinters of wood showered her. Isaac needed help. Now.
She slunk back to her desk, grasping for anything that might make a serviceable weapon. Her fingers brushed against her Academic Decathlon trophy. It was long and made out of heavy glass. Definitely the most useful weapon at hand. She quickly and quietly moved around the bed to where the monstrous wolf was closing in on Isaac.
Lydia could have run out the door. The path was open. She could probably make it before the wolf noticed her. It clearly was more interested in Isaac than her, anyway. But that wasn't going to happen. A giant werewolf did not get to burst into her bedroom and beat up her boyfriend. It was one step too far.
She raised the trophy like a cudgel and bashed it down with all her strength on the wolf's head.
He barely flinched.
He did, however, turn away from Isaac. At least she accomplished that much. Of course, it meant that he turned toward her. She took a stumbling step backward, and glanced toward Isaac. He was recovering slowly. The wolf must have hit him hard.
She looked back at the wolf. Up close it was unlike anything she'd seen. And, sadly, she'd seen her fair share of werewolves. It was somewhere between the half-wolf state of normal werewolves and the full wolf state Peter had transformed into before Derek killed him. A hideous scar ran jaggedly down the center of his face - radiating out almost like a Rorschach inkblot.
As the wolf lunged toward her, Lydia screamed. He moved between her and the door in an instant. She threw the trophy at him, but he swiped it out of the air easily. It shattered against the wall near Isaac's head.
Shit, shit, shit. She didn't have anywhere to go. She ran the few feet to the other side of the room, getting the bed between them. Little good it did her. The wolf jumped onto the bed with ease, advancing slowly as if he was toying with her - letting her fear overtake her before he struck.
Then Lydia caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. Seemingly out of nowhere, another wolf tackled Lydia's attacker, propelling him sideways into the headboard which split in two with a resounding crack.
Peter. Thank God.
Lydia didn't waste any precious seconds with shock this time. She threw herself across the room to where Isaac was still slumped on the floor. He was conscious, barely. His bare chest was slick with blood, all of which was probably his own. The wound was healing, but slowly. Blood still trickled from it as Lydia tried to pull him to his feet.
"You are way too heavy for someone as wiry as you are." She almost had him upright when she lost her footing, tripping over an open book on the floor. Isaac slid out of her arms, leaving her almost as bloody as he was.
Though she wasn't looking, she could hear the fight going badly for Peter. Whoever or whatever this werewolf was, he was stronger and more terrifying than Peter was at the height of his power - and Peter wasn't an alpha anymore. Lydia didn't want to think about what would happen when he couldn't hold the wolf off any longer.
She was so preoccupied trying to get Isaac the hell out of there that she almost didn't notice the first tremors.
The werewolves definitely noticed. They all stopped dead in their tracks, sensing the disturbance in the earth beneath them. A distant howl tore through the night, accompanied by the slight tinkling of Lydia's (remaining) knick knacks on their shelves. Isaac let out a small noise, somewhere between a whimper and a whine as the shaking intensified.
Now Lydia was panicking. "No no no no no no no." There wasn't time to get Isaac outside now. She grabbed him inelegantly under his armpits and dragged him to the corner of the room. It was about as safe as it was going to get at this point. At least the bookshelf was already in pieces on the ground - it wasn't going to fall on their heads from there.
Using the distraction of the earth's movement to his advantage, the mystery werewolf landed one last swipe to Peter's chest. Peter looked down, almost in disbelief, at the blood welling beneath his shredded t-shirt. He stumbled as the house shook, and the other wolf bolted - jumping gracefully out of the hole in the wall where the window used to be.
Lydia ducked her head and curled herself into the corner over Isaac, who was still reeling. He hadn't stopped bleeding, which worried Lydia more than the earthquake at the moment. She'd survived earthquakes before, but she'd never seen Isaac take this long to heal. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Peter looked around the room, taking stock of the situation. His eyes fell on Lydia and Isaac and widened. He threw himself in their direction. The movement was faster than Lydia would have thought it could be, given Peter's condition. She flinched, not sure what to expect from the injured werewolf but preparing herself for the impact.
It never came. Peter bent over the couple, shielding them from the huge framed art print that fell from the wall above them. Lydia could hear his bones crack as the frame landed square on his back. He moved maybe an inch, refusing to fall. Warm blood from his chest wound dripped into Lydia's hair and onto her face. She could feel it trickle slowly down her cheek as the shaking slowed to a stop.
When she was fairly certain the quake was over she looked up at Peter. His face had visibly relaxed. His eyes shone a brilliant blue, but the rest of his features were human again. The gouges on his chest had healed, leaving behind no sign of the injury except the blood that had soaked into his torn shirt.
Their eyes locked and Peter stood up, shifting his gaze away quickly to take stock of the damage done to the room. Lydia scooted away from Isaac in order to get a better look at him. He was taking short, shallow breaths and seemed paler than usual. Though he was conscious, his eyes were unfocused.
"Damn." Peter stood at the hole in the wall and surveyed the street below. "I can't tell which way he went."
"Peter, I think there's something wrong with Isaac. He's not healing."
Lydia heard how unstable she sounded. She took a deep breath the steady herself. She couldn't help anybody if she couldn't get her emotions in check.
Peter returned and crouched next to Isaac, assessing his condition. Taking Isaac's face between his hands, Peter tried to hold his gaze, which still refused to focus on anything for longer than a second.
"Someone poisoned him. Wolfsbane, probably."
Lydia wasn't prepared for that.
Peter saw her panic and tried to soothe it. "It's not a deadly dose. He'd be dead already if it was. It looks like it was just enough to keep him from healing for a little while." He propped Isaac up into a more comfortable position, then stood. "We should probably get him to Deaton, though." He held his hand out to help Lydia up.
Lydia looked up at Peter. There he stood, the man who had attacked her, who had invaded her mind and used her to bring himself back to life. She wasn't sure if she was ever going to really trust him, but he had just saved their lives and Lydia couldn't really be picky about accepting help at the moment.
She put her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. As soon as she was stable, she pulled her hand away - more violently than she meant to. Peter sighed softly and rolled his eyes, but refrained from commenting.
Before Lydia could say anything (she wasn't sure if she was going to apologize or not), Stiles burst through the door.
"Is everyone okay?" Stiles was breathing heavily. He had a nasty cut on his cheek and visibly limped.
"Oh my god, Stiles, are you okay? What happened down there?"
Stiles raised his eyebrows, incredulous. "An earthquake? Or did you not notice it up here?" He gestured to the ruined room around them. At Lydia's blood-soaked dress. "I mean, things look right as rain in this general vicinity."
"Shut up, you know what I mean."
"I think everyone down there's okay. Derek started freaking out a few minutes before the quake. Something about smelling something weird. I don't know. But we couldn't get either of you to answer your phones. Then we heard the crash." He glanced at the hole in the wall. Lydia sighed. She wasn't going to be able to explain that to her parents, even with the earthquake. "That's one mystery solved, I guess. Scott was headed this way to investigate, but then the tremors started and we all scrambled away from the house into the street. It wasn't a huge quake - nothing too badly damaged, I think."
"Then where did you..." she touched the cut on his cheek gently.
"Oh. I tripped." He smiled abashedly.
"Somehow unsurprising." Peter voice practically dripped impatience.
Stiles glared but continued his story. "We saw the wolf jump from your window about the same time we made it to the street. Derek went after it, but it was faster than any wolf I've ever seen."
"Packed quite the punch, too," Isaac croaked from the floor.
Lydia immediately knelt next to him. "Oh, thank God." She pushed his hair out of his eyes. "How do you feel?"
"Like death, but I've felt worse." Lydia wasn't sure if he'd really been worse than this - poisoned and beaten bloody - or if he was cracking a joke. Then she thought about his father and prayed that it was a joke, because that man had been capable of worse than this, she was sure.
She smiled down at him. "We're going to get you to Deaton as soon as we're sure there won't be any aftershocks."
"There won't be." Peter and Isaac spoke in unison. The certainty in both of their tones was eerie.
"What, is your 'wolf sense' tingling?" Stiles wiggled his fingers jokingly.
"That's about the sum of it, yeah." Lydia could tell that Peter's patience was running thin. It was time to get everyone out of here.
"Let's get you up." She scrambled to her feet and bent to help Isaac off the floor. Before she could finish her task, Peter swept by her and pulled Isaac up, sliding his arm under Isaac's so Isaac could support himself on his shoulder.
"It's easier this way." His eyes met Lydia's willingly for the first time that night. They held a respect that Lydia hadn't expected. When he spoke it was even and calm, but not commanding.
"I'll take Isaac to Deaton. He'll get the wolfsbane out of Isaac's system and make sure he heals properly." He kept eye contact as he spoke. Lydia refused to look away, though it was difficult. "You and Stiles get Scott and Allison. Send anyone else who's still here home and get yourselves to Scott's house, at least for the time being. Melissa's probably worried, so this will ease her mind and keep you together. Someone targeted you two tonight. There's no telling if they were after one of them specifically, or if they were just after anyone from the pack and Isaac was an easy target because he was isolated. You need to stay together as much as possible until we figure out what's going on. That wolf? That was more than an alpha. Something I've never seen before, and he was intentionally toying with us." Peter actually looked worried, which terrified Lydia. Peter Hale was not one for showing weakness. "He could have killed Isaac easily in his current condition. For that matter, he could have just killed him with the wolfsbane and been done with it. They want us running scared, and it's working."
"Do you think it's the alpha pack?" Stiles was holding it together surprisingly well. He seemed calm and collected. Though, Lydia supposed, she was an expert at appearing to be calm and collected when she wasn't. In any case, she appreciated the show of it right now. She'd take any stability that she could get, even if it was faked.
Peter heaved a sigh. "I don't know who else it would be."
Stiles pressed the issue. "Why are they here? What do you think they want? I mean, they took Erica and Boyd, right? Or at least, we assume that they did. Why would they do that? Why would they even come here?"
"We have to assume that they want to kill us. All of us. It's an entire pack of alphas; I imagine they aren't big on betas." Peter glanced toward Isaac. "And as a beta, I am not thrilled with that prospect." He pulled Isaac forward a step. "Let's get going."
"We're just supposed to live with that answer? Some of us aren't werewolves, Peter." He looked at Lydia. "Some of us are being put into danger just because we're in the wrong place." He paused very briefly before continuing, "With the wrong people."
Peter stopped walking. He turned to Stiles and all at once Lydia remembered how ruthless Peter Hale could be. "You're in this because you choose to be. There is literally nothing stopping you from walking away from this pack and its problems. You could choose to ignore the supernatural in Beacon Hills. It probably won't save you, but you could try. You picked this path. More than Scott did and more than Lydia did, so don't for one minute pretend like we are holding you to some legally binding werewolf ally contract or anything." He threw his free hand out, gesturing to the door. "Walk away if you want to." He turned to Lydia. "The same goes for you. You didn't ask to be a part of this, but you make the choice every day to stay part of it."
Lydia wasn't looking at Peter while he spoke. Her eyes were glued on Isaac.
Isaac, who refused to take his eyes off his shoes. She could see the guilt on his face. He had chosen this, and he felt like he was keeping Lydia in it as well. As if she could avoid the supernatural in Beacon Hills if she wasn't a part of the werewolves' daily lives. People were dying left and right who had no contact with the wolves - no idea why they were being hunted by strange creatures in the night. Lydia preferred knowing. And if Isaac thought for one minute that she was going to walk away from him because of something Peter Hale said, she was going to have to teach him differently.
She marched across the room, took Isaac's face in her hands, and kissed him. It was swift and searing, and Lydia put everything she had into it. She could feel Peter shift uncomfortably next to her, pulling away from them as much as he could while he was still supporting Isaac.
She stepped back, looking Isaac straight in the eyes. "Go to Deaton. I'll see you later tonight." With that, she shooed the wolves out of her room. She needed Isaac healed and Peter Hale out of her house. She didn't relax until she heard the front door close behind them.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath to center herself. Stiles cleared his throat behind her. She knew what he wanted to say, but this wasn't the time. She wasn't in the mood to have this conversation.
"We should go get Scott and Allison." Lydia walked out of the room without a second glance as she said it. She wasn't ready to assess the damage just yet. Having a goal kept her focused, so she was going to throw herself into this mission wholeheartedly. Get Scott and Allison. Get everyone to Scott's house. She could do that.
Lydia's "mission" was hardly the distraction she'd hoped for. By the time she and Stiles had made it outside, Scott and Allison had heard the whole story from Peter and were waiting in Allison's car. An hour, and two polite refusals of a guest room for the night, later, Lydia was back in her destroyed room and no further in working through the emotional mess the night had stirred.
When Isaac had entered, she was worried she'd break, but his presence calmed her more than she thought it would. His arms around her were soothing. She was still ready to crack, but thought that maybe she wouldn't shatter into irreparable pieces if she did. Isaac could help pull her back together if she let him.
They sat there, quiet for a moment, before Isaac moved slowly. His finger found its way below her chin and gently lifted her face so she was looking at him. "You can't stay here tonight."
"Where am I supposed to go? I can't just leave the house like this. My parents will be home next week and they can't-"
"Lydia there was an earthquake. They'll understand. And they don't have to know about, you know." He shrugged.
"There's a hole in the wall where my window used to be. There's blood everywhere. I can get a lot past them, but they're going to notice something this time."
"We have a week. We'll worry about it tomorrow." He stood up, dragging her with him. "Let's get out of here."
"And go where? Aren't you staying with Derek?" Her distaste for the situation was clear in her voice.
"Derek's staying at Peter's tonight. He's not happy about it, but I think Peter wants to do some investigating before the scent goes cold."
Lydia was slowly growing accustomed to the fact that when her friends used phrases like the scent goes cold they were speaking literally, not figuratively. She didn't want to run the risk of seeing Derek, but he was a minor inconvenience, really. She was exhausted, and she knew that she shouldn't stay here.
"Okay. Let's go." She held her hand out for Isaac to take. He took it gently, and tucked her into a hug. He kissed the top of her head softly before pulling away.
"Let's go," he agreed.