I don't own Teen Wolf.

Lydia stood at the gift table, appraising the large pile of presents as people danced in her backyard.

Every year, she had a huge party to celebrate, but this time she had really outdone herself. Her parents didn't give her a cut-off this year, so she got everything that she wanted. Sure, there were some trademarked Lydia Martin party routines, like the punch (completely wolfsbane free this year, thank you very much), the huge buffet of food, and the great music. But this year, the punch fountain was bigger, the food included everything from stuffed celery, to surf-and-turf Hors d'oeuvres, and this year, she had a live DJ. It wasn't too much of a difference, but it made the whole thing…bigger, somehow.

There still wasn't as many people this year as there had been in years before, but there were more than last year. Well, people she actually recognized, anyway. Apparently, it didn't matter that she was the poor girl who had gone insane, (though some people thought that she still was, she could tell by the way they looked at her), as long as they were guaranteed a good party.

She smirked at the presents in front of her, knowing most of them will be something generic and probably cheap. A girl in her English class came up to the table and set a bag in the only empty spot left and wished Lydia a happy birthday before going to the refreshments. As soon as the girl left, Lydia took the bag and went to balance it on the rest of the pile. That spot was going to stay empty. Just because Lydia's best friend couldn't give her a birthday present this year – or ever again for that matter – didn't mean that Lydia wouldn't leave a spot for her in case she miraculously waltzed through the front door, telling everyone that it was the worst prank ever. No, Allison would always have a space in Lydia's heart…and her gift table.

As she balanced the bag on top of a large box from her parents, she noticed a shallow box wrapped in blue paper, with her name in Stiles' scrawl. Curious, she picked it up, testing its weight. It was actually a little on the heavy side for the size it was. Looking around to see if anyone was watching her, she checked the time. She was supposed to change into her second dress of the night in a few minutes, so she stealthily made her way back up to her room, Stiles' present for her in tow.

After closing the door, she sat on the edge of her bed and ripped off the paper. She slowly opened the box, and was surprised to find one of her drawings in a frame staring up at her. And not just any drawing, it was the Nematon drawing that she saw in Stiles' bedroom months ago. The one that had 'For Lydia' on the back.

She gingerly lifted the frame out of the box, and sure enough, the letter was still there. Taking it off of the back, she opened it and read.

Dear Lydia,

I really don't know why I'm writing you a letter, I haven't written a letter since Scott and I got instant messaging, but I just felt like I needed to do this. Maybe it's because I can actually think about what I'm going to say before it comes spilling out of my mouth, because we both know when I talk out loud, it's not always the best.

Lydia chuckled at that, knowing just how true that statement was.

Anyway, you don't have to keep this or anything, I just wanted to give you a tangible reminder.
Please, Lydia, if you don't remember anything else I ever tell you, remember that I believe in you. In your abilities. Your feelings are always right, even if you don't know it because they're five steps ahead of everybody else. You have been right literally every time something's happened, and I want you to remember that, which is why I'm giving you the drawing as a physical representation of it.
Always remember that, Lydia. I have complete and total confidence in you, and you should, too.

Love,
Stiles

A drop of water fell onto the paper, and Lydia took a deep breath as her heart swelled. She wasn't expecting anything like this from anyone. She expected jewelry and gift cards, and other things that were completely impersonal. But she never expected anything like this.

But then why should she be surprised? This was Stiles, after all. The one who bought almost a whole department store – including the TV – trying to find her the perfect gift. Something told her that this year, he didn't have to think about it very much at all.

There was a knock at the door, making her jump up and wipe away the few tears that had escaped.

"Lydia?" she heard Stiles' voice through the door.

"Yeah?" she replied.

The door opened, and Stiles stepped through. "Hey, I couldn't find you, so I thought that I'd check up here and see if everything was okay or if you needed any – what's wrong?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, walking to her vanity. "I just came up here to change my dress."

"You've been crying," he said.

She looked in the mirror for smeared mascara or eyeliner, but there was none – thank God for waterproof. All she detected was the slightest puffiness around her eyes and a tear track if the light hit just right. Anyone else would have to be looking for it.

"It wasn't the bad kind of crying," she admitted, looking at him through the mirror. She saw his brow furrow in confusion as he looked at her.

"Why were you crying?" he asked.

After a second of hesitation, she gestured to her bed, where the packaging still lay along with the letter. She watched as his eyes widened in realization, then darken in guilt. "Lydia I'm so sorry, I didn't meant to make you cry, I was just trying to – "

"It's okay," she said, turning around. "Like I said, it wasn't the bad kind of crying. I was…touched."

"Touched?" he asked.

Nodding, she took a deep breath. "I've never had anyone give me something that heartfelt and personal. I wasn't expecting it."

Stiles shrugged. "I was just telling the truth."

She felt the tears sting her eyes again at the sincerity in his words. "And that's exactly why it's so touching, Stiles. Because you think it's the truth."

"I don't just think it's the truth," he told her. "It is the truth."

"The truth is subjective because it's biased from perspective," she stated with a roll of her eyes.

"And what do you think the truth is based on your perspective?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She opened her mouth and quickly closed it again. "It doesn't matter."

"Yeah it does," he argued.

She sat back down on the bed, looking at her hands. "From my perspective…the truth is that...all I am is a beacon for death. I try to stop things, but I usually end up making it worse." Her vision blurred and her throat felt tight. Admitting this was even harder then she thought that it would be. "I mean, when you went missing, I led everyone on a wild goose chase. And if I had warned you better when the Nogitsune took me, I wouldn't have to leave a spot blank at my gift table for a present that's never coming…"

Taking a deep shaky breath, she felt the tears run down her cheeks, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. Not in front of Stiles.

"Hey, no," he said, walking over to her and kneeling in front of her. He took one of her hands and rubbed calming circles across the back. "You told me that none of that was my fault. And if it's not my fault, then it sure as hell isn't yours, okay?"

"It feels like it," she retorted. "What use is it knowing when someone's going to die if I can't do anything to stop it? What's the point of being able to hear the voices of the dead if they won't help you when you really need it?" Her voice was getting louder as she spoke. "What's the point of having any kind of power if you can't do anything until it's too late? Huh, Stiles? THERE IS NO FUCKING POINT!"

She stood up quickly, wrenching her hand out of Stiles', and started pacing. "Why couldn't I have just been turned into a werewolf when Peter bit me, huh? Atleast then I could fight. Atleast I could do something even remotely useful. But no. I had to be this – " she gestured to herself " – and I'm not even good at it!"

"Lydia, it's not like there's a handbook for it," he said, stepping in front of her and making her stop her pacing. "We just have to figure it out as we go along."

"And the people we care about get killed while we're trying to figure it out, right?" she snapped.

He looked away, licking his lips with a sigh. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head slightly, like he didn't know what to say to that.

"Lydia, look," he finally said. "I know…I know you feel like you could've stopped what happened to Allison, I do, too. But neither of us could've stopped that, okay? No matter what you did, she would've gone to save you. Even if she knew exactly what would happen, she still would've gone. She went to save her best friend, and as long as she did that, it didn't matter what happened to her. Not to her."

The tears were still leaking out of Lydia's eyes as she looked at him. She wanted to argue, tell him that she could've told her best friend to stay away, but she knew that Stiles was right. Nothing ever stopped Allison when someone she loved was in danger, so why would this time be any different?

"She believed in you, too, you know," he continued. "She had total confidence in you."

"I know," Lydia choked out, shaking her head. "I know she did."

"We all do," he said, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "We will figure this out. I don't know how, and I don't know when, but we're going to. And if you ever doubt yourself, for any reason, I will be here to tell you otherwise, okay? I will be here to tell you the truth. Because what I said in that letter, and what I say at any other time, that is the truth, not what the doubts are putting in your heads."

"How do you know that it's not the truth?" she asked, shaking her head.

"Because all you're seeing is the bad," he told her. "When you're looking at yourself, you're seeing the bad, and most of the time it's impossible to see anything past that." Without even thinking, he gently cupped her face with his left hand and brushed away a few tears with his thumb. "But I'm going to be here to make sure you see the good, okay?"

Slowly, she nodded and hugged him, burying her face in his neck. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand stroking her hair. Like this, she felt safe. Like this, she felt like she could actually believe that what he said was true.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she pulled her head back slightly and softly kissed his cheek. He looked at her with perplexed eyes, but she just gave him a smile.

"What was that for?" he asked.

Rolling her lips, she looked him straight in the eye. "For being your normal, hyperactive, amazing self."

She leaned her head back on his shoulder as his arm tightened around her.

"Happy Birthday, Lydia," he murmured into her ear as he cradled her head.

They hugged for a few more minutes before Lydia remembered that there was a party going on outside, and that she needed to be a part of it. Taking a deep breath, she pulled away and gave Stiles a smile.

"As much as I would love to just stay in here," she said. "I have a party to host."

"Right," he answered, eyebrows going up slightly in surprise like he had forgotten, too. "I'll, uh, let you change."

He let go of her and started walking towards the door, causing Lydia to shiver at the lack of his warmth.

"Stiles," she said as his hand wrapped around the doorknob.

"Yeah?" he asked, turning back to look at her.

"What you said, about reminding me of the good when all I see is the bad?"

"Uh-huh?"

She gave him another small smile. "I'm going to be doing the same for you."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't need –"

"Yes, you do," she interrupted. "All of us do."

He nodded, smiling at her. "Thanks." And then he left her to change.

Her eyes found the picture and letter on her bed again, and she picked them up and brought them with her to the vanity. After she changed her dress, she sat down in front of the mirror and started fixing her makeup.

As she finished up her blush, she looked at her drawing, and couldn't help yet another smile pulling at the corners of her lips. She picked up the letter, her fingers grazing delicately over Stiles' words as her heart swelled yet again.

"Oh, Stiles," she whispered. "If you keep doing things like this, I might actually find the nerve to tell you how I feel."

And as she made her way back to the party, she knew that he would keep doing things like that, because he was Stiles and he just cared so much about everybody. And she knew that the nerve that she needed to take that leap was very close, and it wouldn't take much more to have it in her reach.

Now that, she believed in.

What do you think?