Scott and Allison bolt upright, thrashing in their tubs, and gasping for breath.
It's been 16 hours.
A long 16 hours.
And they are finally awake, finally safe. Lydia can catch her own breath again, can relax now that-
Wait.
Stiles.
He isn't moving.
"Shouldn't he be awake, too?" Lydia asks the room, voice trembling as the blood in her veins runs cold.
The other four sets of eyes follow Lydia's gaze down to the still-submerged Stiles.
Lydia looks up at Deaton expectantly, expression full of fear.
"I assumed the three of you would come out of it at the same time," he replies calmly, but she doesn't miss the hint of worry in his voice.
"So you don't know what's wrong?!" she practically screams at him.
"I'm not sure, Lydia," he answers in typical unemotional Deaton fashion.
She falls to her knees beside his tub and reaches down to lift him up enough to wrap her arms around his chest.
"Help me get him out!" she yelled, already attempting to drag his body from the tub.
Isaac is the first to snap into action, easily hoisting Stiles from the water and laying him outn on the ground.
Lydia crawls over, carefully placing Stiles's head in her lap. She starts murmuring for him to wake up, a shaking hand running through his wet hair while Scott asks Deaton if they should take Stiles to the hospital.
"It won't do any good, Scott. The three of you died in that water; there is nothing a doctor could possibly do for him. You've been out for 16 hours."
"Is he going to wake up?!" Scott asks, clearly terrified.
"I don't know why he didn't wake up when the two of you did," Deaton answered.
"So, what, he might just be dead?" Allison asked.
Lydia doesn't listen for Deaton's response, panic kicking in. She begins to shake Stiles, gently at first. He isn't responding. He's so still and she can't stop screaming.
"Stiles! Stiles, wake up! Wake up! Goddamn it!"
Her shaking become more violent and Stiles's head falls from her lap, smacking the ground hard. But she doesn't stop. She can't stop. Because he isn't moving, damn it!
"Lydia," Scott calls out, worry lacing his voice.
"He isn't waking up, Scott!" she shouts back at him, not stopping her attempts to rouse Stiles.
"Lydia, please!" Allison begs, nearly in tears.
Her friend's plea doesn't faze her. She isn't thinking logically enough for that, not when Stiles might be dead.
"Why isn't he waking up?! He's supposed to be fine!" Lydia shrieks, starting to slap Stiles too roughly in a desperate attempt to revive him.
"Lydia, stop! Stop," Scott pleads, wrapping his arms around Lydia's waist and tugging her away from his friend.
"No! Why isn't he awake?" she asks frantically struggling in Scott's grip. "I knew I shouldn't have been the one to anchor him."
"Lydia it isn't your fault," Scott tells her, his hold on her not loosening.
"He trusted me."
"He knew there was a chance this wouldn't work, Lydia," Isaac says, attempting to placate her.
"No. No. He was supposed to come back. He was supposed to come back to me," she whispers, the fight going out of her as she collapses against Scott.