Lydia was still shaking as she climbed into Stiles' jeep. Stiles wasn't speaking much which wasn't typical of him. He kept shooting her furtive glances laced with concern. Lydia's ears rang and her head ached. She leaned against the cool window and avoided looking at Stiles. She was simultaneously frustrated, embarrassed, and sad. Meredith was fragile and she should never have pushed her so hard, but they needed answers…She should be able to do this on her own. She's a banshee. So why does she feel like a helpless little girl these days?

"Do you want me to take you home, Lydia?"

Lydia dragged herself out of her own thoughts enough to mumble, "No…I don't know. We need to figure this out. We need that key. I need the name."

"Lydia, hey, listen, it's going to be okay." Stiles said, trying to soothe her.

"It's not going to just be okay! Not unless I can crack the code and get to the third part of the deadpool…" Lydia responded, harsher than she had intended.

She hated feeling as though she had no control over the situation. She hated feeling powerless. She hated when Stiles looked at her as though she were about to fall apart at the seams, even if she was.

"If we need to do this tomorrow we can, okay?" Stiles responded, calmly. He was being remarkably kind to her despite her snappy tone. Her behavior when she was feeling worried and sad often came across as rather abrasive. Stiles never seemed phased by it. Lydia had a feeling that it was because he could see right through her attempts at seeming composed and in control at all times.

"I'm fine, Stiles." She tried to soften her voice. "I'm sorry. I'm…I'm fine. Really. I'm just frustrated."

"I know, but we always figure things out, right? We've always got a plan, even if it's not always a good one! We're doing what we can. We'll try to save as many people as possible. And you don't have to worry. I won't let anyone assassinate you, alright?" Stiles said attempting a grin.

Lydia let out a hollow laugh. "It's not me I'm worried about Stiles."

Lydia could tell from Stiles' expression that he was feeling just as downtrodden as she was, but there was determination there too. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Stiles said, "Why don't you come to my house for a few hours? We can work on this together. We just need to look at this from different angles, you know? We just need to step back and start over. If Meredith was able to somehow figure this out, we can too. Besides, we might need to clean you up before I take you home and your mom sees you."

There was dried blood extending from Lydia's ear to the base of her neck. She gingerly touched her hand to the side of her head and grazed the dried blood with her fingertips. When she pulled her hand away she saw that some of the blood had come off onto her hand. She had seen too much blood in the past year. So much of it wasn't her own. She closed her eyes as a painful image of Allison's dead body flashed through her mind. This made the third key all the more important. It only made Lydia more determined to discover the third key and unlock the third portion of the deadpool.

When they arrived at the Stilinski household, the driveway was empty. The blue jeep came to a halt and Stiles hopped out, walking to Lydia's side to open the door for her. He then led her inside and began to climb the stairs to the second landing. Lydia followed without hesitation. She had been up these stairs more times than she cared to admit in the past few months. She almost felt sorry for Stiles. After the horrifying events of the past few months they were all scared of leaving each other alone for long periods of time, as though if someone was out of sight for too long they would remain that way. Any time Malia wasn't at his house, Lydia was there with or without Scott. It was a wonder Stiles had any time to himself. She wasn't consciously avoiding Malia, but she had no desire to feel as though she were infringing upon anything between the two of them. If someone had told her a year and a half ago how much time she would spend here she would have laughed in disbelief. That's life for you though. And she was very glad that Stiles was a part of her life now. In some odd way he had become her partner in crime or partner in solving crime, really. They had become friends, equals.

Instead of going into his room, Stiles headed toward the bathroom. "Sit down and let me have a look at your ear. Does it hurt or anything?"

"No. It's okay! It doesn't hurt."

Stiles' expression was one of disbelief, but he didn't contradict her. Instead, he took a clean wash rag from the bathroom closet and soaked it in warm water. Lydia sat down on the edge of the tub and Stiles knelt in front of her. They were eye to eye as he began to softly wipe away the blood. Lydia had never noticed how large his hands were. For once, Stiles seemed content with the silence between them. It was the kind of silence that comes with a shared severe disappointment. Stiles' fingers brushed Lydia's skin as he continued to clean the side of her face.

"I can do this, Stiles," Lydia began, "I know I can do this. We can't always rely on Meredith. I'm a banshee and I need to start learning how to be a good one. If I can maintain over a 4.0 GPA in this chaos, I can master being a banshee."

"Tell me something I don't know, Lydia." Stiles grinned. "I already know you can do this. I'm pretty sure you can do almost anything!"

"I'm serious!" Lydia sighed.

"So am I." Stiles responded, his hand pausing as he looked up at her. "This isn't easy. None of us has ever known or been a banshee before and none of this is your fault. You've been pushing yourself too hard! Maybe you just need to step back, relax, and breathe. Then, you know, try and listen to whatever's out there. You'll get there eventually, Lydia. "

"We can't afford 'eventually.' We need the key now. If I could just get a handle on this. Or if I could get Meredith to explain to me what I'm supposed to be doing to gain control over this…" Lydia trailed off as Stiles resumed gently rubbing at her skin.

"Meredith can't be the only other Banshee in Beacon County. We'll find another Banshee somehow and we'll get help. You won't feel helpless forever Lydia."

"Who said anything about me being helpless?" Lydia snapped, halfheartedly.

"I know you, Lydia." Stiles stated as though it was common knowledge. He raised his eyebrows at her. "You're not helpless. And you don't need me to tell you that! It's not your fault that there is a deadpool or that people are dying. We're kids! We need time we don't have, Lydia. Unless one of us is a time traveler, we can't do anything about that. You are the smartest, most confident person I know."

"Well, I can't argue with that…" Lydia said with a cheeky grin.

"Hey! There's Lydia Martin!" Stiles smiled warmly.

When he reached the blood that had trailed down her neck he raised his other hand to offer support for the opposite side of her neck and head. She gently leaned into his touch and studied his face as his eyes trailed down her neck and he bit his lip, concentrating. As Stiles finished cleaning Lydia's skin he let his hand trail down the side of her neck until he could feel her heart beating against his fingers at the hollow of her throat. Lydia's breath caught in her chest as his eyes met hers. Neither of them said anything and for a small moment Lydia thought he was going to close the short distance between them and kiss her. She found herself wanting him to. She wanted to feel his lips on hers again (minus the panic attack).

Rather than kiss her he exhaled a puff of air that stirred the tendrils of hair hanging around her face and stood up. Lydia's heart sank in disappointment and she felt her face flush. Unless she was mistaken, Stiles' cheeks were flushed as well. He turned away from her to retrieve some Advil from the medicine cabinet and when he emerged he seemed less shaken. She downed the pills with the glass of water he brought her and stood up. Although Lydia felt awkward and disappointed, she also felt oddly relieved. Lydia Martin does not get involved in love triangles.

"Soooo…should we go and take a look at the lists again?" Stiles asked. His voice was slightly gruff sounding. He cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his already messy hair.

Lydia nodded before smoothing down her skirt and shaking her head in an attempt to rid herself of the strained feeling in her chest. With a deep breath she followed Stiles into his room.