Chapter 1
A/N: Hey! So I wanted to try this story out. It's kind of like what I believe Season 6 would be without less Wild Hunt and more Jackson. I love where I'm going with this, but my writing sucks, so if you're really going to read this, good luck. Here's a short intro chapter for my birthday. Hope you all like it!
Also, I haven't written any of the other chapters yet, so the next update will be in quite a while, but I promise to try to make it as soon as possible!
Disclaimer: I do not hold the rights to any of these characters of the universe they live in yo.
"Okay look, I'm sorry Lydia, but I was a hundred and fifteen percent sure that that bus driver was a werewolf. He reeked of wet dog."
Lydia makes a face that displays both exasperation and utter confusion as he speaks. She just can't believe Stiles. Over the course of the past week, he'd called her up at least a hundred times in order to find out whether or not some random incident was related to the supernatural. She currently has bags under her eyes because he woke her up at one freaking o'clock last night to sneak around some regular bus driver's house because he was convinced that the old man wasn't normal.
"And why is that any reason at all to literally pull me out of my bed in the middle of the night?" Lydia asks at last, her voice full of genuine confusion. "And I am so sleeping with my windows closed from now on."
"What if he was a werew-"
"Stiles!" she stops him. "I am a banshee. Do you know what we do? We predict death, Stiles. We find dead bodies. We scream. But we most certainly do not check and tell whether or not a certain person is a supernatural being."
Stiles sighs as rakes his hand through his hair, before rubbing both of them on his maroon khaki pants.
"Lydia, there –" he pauses, looking for the right way to explain himself, "there's been nothing even slightly abnormal going on for the past two months, you get it? Two months!"
He says that last part loudly, eliciting quizzical looks from the students around them. The teenager brushes them off, before leaning his head against his locker and releasing a breath he doesn't know he's been holding. "I just feel like, you know, soon enough, something's going to happen. Something bad. And I just –I don't want us to –"
"To not be prepared," Lydia finishes for him. She nods slightly, showing him that she understands, and a silent, mutual understanding leads them to drop the conversation. For now.
Stiles lifts his head off his locker and squeezes Lydia's shoulder in a way that displays gratitude, and, books in their hands, they both start making their way towards the banshee's English class.
Everyone seems too excited for a typical Monday, Lydia notices. Girls are laughing, whispering things into each other's ears, and boys are giving each other surprised glances around every corner. They're acting like normal teenagers, yes, but like, with twice the amount of adrenaline running through their bodies. Next to her, Stiles walks straight ahead, oblivious. She doesn't blame him. The poor guy's always worrying about something or another, his mind racing even when it' supposed to be fast asleep. Together with Scott, Stiles always carries the world's weight on his shoulders. They can be excused for not noticing a bunch of overexcited teenagers, which is a totally normal thing, right?
Stiles stops in front of her classroom and smiles.
"I'll see you in Bio?" he asks, grinning at her in what he probably assumes is a gentlemanly manner.
"In Bio we shall meet!" she replies, smiling back.
"Farewell, lovely dame," Stiles says as he tips an imaginary hat and begins walking away. Lydia shakes her head and enters her class, greeting Mrs. Rao and making her way to her usual seat.
When she reaches it, however, the seat is occupied. By Jackson Whittemore.
"You look just as banging as I remember," Jackson says with a smirk that would have totally seduced her a couple of years ago.
It doesn't escape Lydia's notice that he's playing with his old house key.
She wonders why he still has them. She wonders if he's pulled them out on purpose, thinking that it would struck a nerve in her. She wonders if that means something to him. But most of all, she wonders if that means something to her.
Lydia realizes that she's been staring at Jackson's hands for way too long, and a glance at his face, which is victoriously wearing a smile, assures her that indeed, Jackson is trying to get to her.
She refuses to let him in. He can't win her. Not yet.
Regaining her confident composure, Lydia looks right into Jackson's eyes and spits her next words at him.
"And you seem like you're just as much of an ass as you were when you left," she says in an icy tone, sitting down in the spot next to his.
Just to show him that he doesn't bother her, she convinces herself.
"Aw, come on! You're still mad that I left?" His words are accompanied by a smile, like he's enjoying this way more than she'd like.
"No, I'm mad that I let it bother me so much. You were never worth it."
As soon as the words leave her mouth, she regrets them. He doesn't have the right to know how much his departure affected her.
Jackson, however, doesn't seem to take much notice of her words. He lets out a frustrated groan and leans towards her.
"I still love you," he says suddenly.
Lydia turns towards him, her eyebrows raised and her mouth slightly parted in disbelief for a split second. Hoping he didn't catch her surprise, she tries to summon the Lydia she was in freshman year, back when she was able to bury her emotions deep under the soil that was her pride and that all that mattered to her was whether her shoes matched her dress right. She tries to call on her, needing her now more than ever. Bitchy Lydia, however, refuses to come back. She's dead.
"No," Lydia says then. "No you don't," the banshee repeats quietly, desperately trying to believe in her words.
Jackson leans further towards her and puts a hand on her shoulder, rubbing his thumb in a gesture of sympathy.
"Lydia, just go out with me once. See if it works out."
Lydia pushes her hand off of her and turns back to face the teacher. "No!" her mind says. "He's a no good jerk with a pretty face. He isn't worth it."
She knows he isn't worth her. She knows that he'll just toy with her until he finds someone else. She knows that he's trouble.
But her heart doesn't. Her heart is still stuck on the day he gave her his house keys. It's replaying every moment they've spent together. It's trying to convince her that maybe, somewhere buried deep inside, she may still feel something for him. It knows that after losing so much, she deserves some happiness.
Lydia's answer is barely a whisper. She isn't quite sure he hears her.
"I'll have to think about it."
"You'll have to think about it?"
Stiles is having trouble keeping his anger to himself. His nose is scrunched up in fury and his hands are made into tight fists, tucked into the pockets of his navy blue hoodie.
"Lydia, this is the same man who treated you like scum throughout the entire time you were dating," he tries to convince her.
"But I loved him."
Stiles stares at Lydia, confused and, he'll be very honest, disappointed.
"And when you told him that, he took his furry little werewolf ass and ran off to Europe. Do you remember that particular romantic moment by any chance?"
Lydia squeezes her eyes shut in frustration and is about to reply when Scott enters the class and takes a seat in front of his best friend. His smile falters as he sees the expressions on both of their faces.
"What are both arguing about now?" he inquires.
"Lydia agreed to out with Jackson."
Scott's eyes widen in surprise.
"Jackson, as in Jackson Whittemore?"
"No, as in Jackson Pollock, you idiot. Yes, Jackson Whittemore!"
As Scott turns his gaze from Stiles to Lydia, the girl smacks Stiles behind the head, urging him to shut up.
"I did not agree to going out with Jackson."
"You might as well have," Stiles counters, only to be met by one of Lydia's deadly glares.
"Stiles, for the millionth time, I told him that I would think about it, alright? I don't have my emotions all neatly sorted out into alphabetically ordered folders like you want me to. Once in a while, we need to get our asses out of the supernatural and face our everyday teenager problems. This is one of mine. And be a supportive friend or not, I don't care," she almost yells at him before furiously stomping out of the classroom.
Stiles starts to get up to follow her, but Scott stops him with a hand on his arm.
"I'll go. She's mad at you right now."
Stiles just nods as he takes his seat again, head held down in shame.
Scott runs out of the room and begins searching for his friend, but the young woman is nowhere in sight. He then focuses on the sound of the clicking Lydia's heels make when she walks in anger, rhythmic and furious, and, with the help of his enhanced hearing, is eventually able to locate Lydia at the end of an empty hallway.
She's sitting on the ground, her back pressed towards a locker as she takes laboured breaths, evidently trying not to cry. Her hands are on the sides of her neck, fingers tangled in her wavy hair. When she turns towards Scott, she makes no effort to regain her composure. Instead, she closes her eyes and lets her tears fall.
The alpha takes this as an invitation and sits down next to her.
"He feels bad," Scott tries as Lydia wipes her tears and turns her face towards his.
She slightly nods.
"I know."
"He's just worried."
Lydia lets out a sarcastic chuckle and turns her face away for a second. She faces Scott with a bitter smile.
"Of what? That I'll forget about the pack once I let Jackson back into my life? That I'll refuse to acknowledge the fact that you guys are my friends now? That I won't agree to help him on his dumb late night searches for supernatural creatures anymore? If that's what worries him, then he's wrong. Because I won't, Scott. I won't do any of that. I just hoped he'd understand that about me now."
Scott opens his mouth to say something, but finds that he's at a loss of words. Lydia takes his silence as a green light to go on.
"Imagine if Kira comes back three years from now, Scott," she says out of the blue.
The werewolf stares at her, questioning.
"It's not a fair example, because what Jackson and I had wasn't even a fraction of what you two shared," Lydia tries to explain, "but I need you to tell me. Imagine if Kira comes back three years from now."
"Okay."
Lydia turns her body so that she's facing him completely, and tries to prove her case.
"Imagine she comes back and that, during these past three years, you've grown so much, you've made so many new friends, and you've gone through so much that you just didn't think of her all that much."
Scott nods, encouraging her to go on.
"But when she sees you, she tells you that she still loves you, and then suddenly all these –these feelings you didn't know you still had resurface. Would you give her a chance?"
Scott looks sincerely into Lydia's eyes.
"I would give her a hundred chances."
"Exactly," Lydia says as she smiles a little. A real, genuine Lydia Martin smile. "You'd give her a hundred chances, and I'm still contemplating whether or not to give him one." Her smile fades and she closes her eyes again, trying in vain to keep her tears to herself. "Why can't Stiles understand how hard this is for me?"
"Because he's afraid for you, Lydia."
"Scott," she urges, "I know how to take care of myself. I won't let anyone treat me like dirt again. He knows that."
"Just knowing that you're strong enough for this might not satisfy him completely, you know. He cares a lot about you, Lydia."
"I know," she says. "I know he does."
Scott takes her hands in his in the most brotherly manner he can manage.
"I think you should talk to him."
Lydia nods in response and they both sit there in a comfortable silence before Scott speaks up.
"I'll see you in class?" he asks, dropping her hands and standing up.
"I'll be there in a sec," Lydia answers.
Scott smiles and takes a few steps before stopping one last time
"Oh, and by the way, he's not just afraid you'll get hurt. It's more than that."
"Huh?" Lydia blurts.
"He's afraid he'll lose you."
And with that, Scott walks away.