By the time Lydia realizes she's in love with Stiles, he's moved on.
Lydia doesn't understand how this happened. She's a certified genius. She's going to win awards and medals one day; she's going to rule armies.
But somehow she's stupid enough to fall in love with Stiles only now, when he's dating Malia and for the first time in their lives, unavailable. It's not her fault, Lydia knows. It's not Malia's fault that Lydia took Stiles for granted, that she let his love for her be something she could ignore or manipulate for her own amusement.
The thing is, it's not really about Malia at all. It's about anchors, and open doors. Stiles telling her she was beautiful even when she cried, Stiles yelling run!
It's about a monster wearing Stile's face pushing her up against a damp dank wall, and Peter fucking Hale. And Allison of course, although these days Lydia can make anything about Alison if she tries hard enough.
So it's not Malia's fault she took something that belongs to Lydia. But that doesn't mean Lydia's going to sit back and let Malia have him.
It's not like Lydia's trying to hurt her. It's more like she's collateral damage, something that will be regrettably but unavoidably damaged in the wake of Lydia's whim.
Lydia tries not to feel the slow creep of guilt. Malia's not so bad, even if her 'I'm just an innocent bumbling were-coyote' act is wearing a little thin. Her honestly, while sometimes borderline offensive, is refreshing, and it's not like she's ever done something to Lydia personally.
Until Lydia sees Stiles and Malia walking hand in hand, and something inside her snaps like one of his red threads. The pieces inside her pull apart and it hurts. If she were Scott McCall she'd be wolfing out, flashing red eyes and howling at the moon.
But she's not a wolf; she's a banshee. She has one foot firmly planted in the realm of death. But she's always had Stiles, tethering her to Earth, to Beacon Hills. Tethering her to him.
She wants him. And Lydia always gets what she wants.
Because Lydia is friends with Stiles (oh who is she kidding, best friends, her only friend really, other than Scott, and god, how weird is that?) and they are the brains of pack McCall, she does what they do best.
She comes up with a plan.
The first step is almost embarrassingly easy. Remind Stiles what he's missing.
xxx
Stiles picks her up on Friday nights for pack meetings at Derek's. There's not really a point to it, with Kate Argent gone (again) and Peter Hale locked up. For the first time since Scott was bitten Beacon Hills seems devoid of supernatural activity, making the town feel erie and quiet.
They still meet every week, but it's more of a formality now, a chance to check in before they inevitably order pizza and watch a movie. It's not the same as it was in the beginning of it all, of course. She doesn't look for Alison's face anymore when she walks in the door, remembers not to expect Isaac or even Erica.
But there's Kira, who will never ever be a replacement for Alison, but is becoming (what Lydia can begrudgingly admit) a close friend. She's a little awkward but she's nice, and loyal to the pack. And unlike certain new girls isn't sleeping with Stiles Stilinski.
There's Liam too, who's quickly becoming everyone's annoying little brother. But he's strong, and he's Scott's. Lydia's wondered once or twice (on the rare occasion she's allowed herself to feel self-pity) what it would have been like if it had been him who'd done this to her.
She's imagined gentle Scott McCall baring his teeth to her flesh, telling her not to be afraid, as she gently strokes the puckered scar along her side.
Of course, it didn't happen that way, and Lydia doesn't have time to indulge in daydreams anymore.
They're like family, now. They all bicker and support each other and every Friday night they get take out delivered to Derek's loft and watch a movie.
There's something extremely amusing about watching Derek Hale survey the group of them sprawled out on his living room floor with a bewildered look on his face, like he has no idea how he became the de facto guardian to a bunch of misfit teenagers.
When Stiles comes to get her she's not ready, on purpose. She's left the door open for him, and when she hears him in the foyer, calling her name, she yells for him to come on up.
He enters her bedroom and says, "Oh," because she's sitting at her vanity in a purple skirt and a lacy black balconette bra that gives her excellent cleavage.
"You're not ready," he says dumbly.
"Wow, what a deduction," she says flatly. She has to admit, she was expecting a little more fumbling, more staring. But Stiles just nods mildly and sits down on the edge of her bed.
Lydia pins her braids around her head like a fiery crown. She takes her time getting ready, pretending not to know what top to wear.
"What do you think?" she asks him, holding up two shirts, and she almost laughs at her own absurdity. Like she would ever ask Stiles for fashion advice.
She feels a stab of satisfaction when he frowns and grumbles, "Its just Derek's."
Ha. Good. Let him think she's into Derek. Jealously will work just fine.
xxx
Malia is conspicuously missing from the pack meeting. It's strange, because Malia is always there. It's not like the girl has anything better to do, other than catch up on homework. Lydia snorts to herself. If it wasn't for her own generosity and talent for note taking Malia would probably be in special Ed right now.
When Lydia asks where Malia is there's a moment of silence. When someone answers her it's not Stiles, but Derek.
"She'll be back in a couple weeks," he says, shooting Stiles a look Lydia can't interpret.
"But where did she go?" Lydia presses.
"She's looking for the desert wolf," Stiles says quietly.
"By herself?"
"It's Malia," Scott reasons. "She didn't need any of us to go with her. She's used to doing things on her own."
"Yup," Stiles adds, but there's an edge to his voice that Lydia files away for later.
When Stiles drives her home that night she kisses him on the cheek and lingers, just enough to feel the little shudder that runs through him.
She smiles wickedly to herself all the way up to her room.
Phase one complete.