Author's Note: This story is a massive overhaul of the version of the same story I wrote four years ago. Out of respect for my reviewers of the previous story, I did not want to replace that version with the rewitten chapters. I hope this new offering shares the heart of the previous story, with improved clarity and skill.
Dedication: For FireyDrache, whose maiden voyage into fanfiction reminded me that I wasn't done.
Copyright disclaimer: MTV Music Television and all related titles, logos, and characters are trademarks of MTV Networks, a division of Viacom International Inc. It could be argued that this work is an infringement of copyright because its purpose is entertainment, and it does not fall under any protected fair use purposes (i.e. "criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, or research"). However, for additional consideration, of the four factors for determining fair use, this work 1.) is published non-commercially, 2.) (okay, I obviously fail #2, because Teen Wolf is a creative work and I don't need to reproduce any facts contained it in to educate the public), 3.) uses the characters, setting, and tone of the copyrighted work, but the story and text are original to me and do not reproduce any dialogue or video clips from the original, and 4.) as a brief gratis unofficial non-affiliated written work, does not adversely affect the market for or the value of the television series.
Warning: Many of the plants mentioned in this fictional story are in fact poisonous to humans, and contact with them can cause extreme discomfort and death. An excellent description of ways the show makes light of the real chemical effects that the plants have on human bodies can be read on the "Wolfsbane" page of the "teenwolf" Wikia site.
These all look to you
to give them their food in due season;
when you give to them, they gather it up;
when you open your hand, they are filled with good things.
When you hide your face, they are dismayed;
when you take away their breath, they die
and return to their dust. (Psalms 104:27-29)
Cold white light shone on the thin, bleached sheets of Lydia's hospital bed. Slow mechanical beeping marked her vitality, but the gashes that covered her body bled freely still, now days after the attack.
She slept, and her consciousness lingered in a time that was neither day or night. In the dream she would have called for help, because she needed to get a move-on, start the clock again, but something told her that there was not a soul to hear her for a million miles in every direction. She waited silently, holding perfectly still.
That pleased her only visitor just fine. Allison needed the quiet to think about what it meant to have a relative who was a murderer. She needed to work out how to grieve the death of that same relative.
Allison had come not quite immediately when she heard the news, not sure if she even still believed in their friendship. She felt only one thing with complete certainty, and that was that death had won too many times in this town, and it was time for death to have to go home empty-handed. So she stood sentinel over Lydia, because no one else had showed up to protect her from the rest of Allison's family.
Allison's father stalked the halls outside. He had committed long ago to this life of public service, carried out in the shadows. Since then he hadn't waived in his dedication to protecting the human world from the werewolf one - so much so that he would have struggled to explain it to Allison even if he had wanted to, even if she had wanted him to. She had glared him right back out of the room when he tried to come inspect Lydia. Maybe he should have made a pretense of talking to his daughter, but the situation was simple: Lydia had been bitten, and she would either die as a human or revive as a lycanthrope. If she lived, it wouldn't be long before she threatened human life, and when that moment came, Chris Argent was ready to execute her. Unlike his sister, he was waiting for provocation, willing to give her a chance however likely she was to blow it.
At least that's what he had told Allison, but she was skeptical after being lied to so much. So even if Lydia was a real bitch, Allison had a pot of bad coffee to keep herself going, and she was prepared to be the last line of defense.
