Lydia marches as quickly across the parking lot as she can manage in her heels. She's not sure how he did it, but this is Stiles' fault. When this is all over, she is going to get Scott and Isaac to hold him down, and she is going to yell at him. A lot. Until she feels better.
"If I didn't know you so well, I would think you were trying to get away from me, Lydia."
She raises her chin but doesn't slow. "If I didn't know you so well, I'd think you were a raging psycho who should have stayed dead. Oh wait, I do think you're a raging psycho who should have stayed dead."
Peter Hale trots up next to her, grinning unrepentantly. "Aw, it's a good thing we both use sarcasm to hide our true feelings or I'd be offended. Which one's yours?"
She frowns. "Don't you have a car, or do you just specialize in materializing everywhere you're not wanted?"
He shrugs and leads the way to her new purple Mini - a replacement for the crazy-deer car from her parents. "Ten years in a coma means a really out-of-date license. I could drive if you wanted, but," he sticks his lower lip out in a faux-pout, "you probably wouldn't like it."
Lydia rolls her eyes. "Totally useless, I knew it. Can you at least use Google Maps like a functional human? Undead werewolf? Thing?"
Peter slides easily into the passenger seat. "Anything for you, pumpkin. Where do you want to start?"
It's petty, but she calculates the necessary velocity, revs the engine, and squeals out of the parking lot fast enough to throw him against the side door. "Stiles gave me an idea. I need to make a pit stop first."
He braces a hand against the dash and frowns at her. "Oh, by all means. Let's go on a shopping trip while my nephew and your friend rot in the hands of a crazy substitute English teacher slash dark druid. This is the perfect time."
She snorts. "It's for your own good - something had to be done about that shirt, it's truly tragic. Deep vees are for cast members of Jersey Shore only."
Peter puts a hand over the neckline of his tee-shirt and gasps in mock-indignation as they rocket into the parking lot of the sporting goods megastore by the freeway. "Now I know you're joking. This shirt brings out the blue in my eyes, everyone says so. There's no need to be jealous."
Against her will, she snorts as she puts the Mini in park and pulls out the keys. "Sit," she says, pointing a stern finger at him. "Stay."
She hurries into the store feeling moderately better, and almost doesn't frown when he's still waiting in the front seat when she gets back. But he eyes her purchases with a raised eyebrow as she rips open the packing on the hunting knife. "Don't tell me you're going to filet me before we even make it to the big finale, because that would be such a let-down."
She rolls her eyes. "Please. And get blood on the leather? Hold this." She thrusts the baseball bat into his hands so she can settle the knife in her purse where it isn't going to accidentally stab her arm, then turns the key and peels out of the lot.
He manages three whole minutes of silence before running a hand over the bat. "A Louisville Slugger. How very patriotic of you."
"Ms. Blake tried to strangle me last time. I think I owe her a good old-fashioned ass-kicking. I could have died in English class. That would have been mortifying."
Peter nods sympathetically. "They'd probably have put up a plaque with a poem on it or something equally quaint. But what makes you think a baseball bat is going to do you any good if Mr. Sour Alpha Derek and the Boy Wonder couldn't stand up to her?"
She blasts around a corner and heads for the reservoir border. "This stupid banshee crap has to be good for something besides getting possessed by dead people - no thanks to you. Plus Derek is clearly stupid for a skirt, and Scott's just plain stupid." She pats her purse confidently. "I don't think I'll have that problem."
They pull into the parking lot at the trailhead, and Lydia turns the car off. It's dark and quiet in the woods. She palms the keys and flips the headlights off. The stillness is eerie. "Do you think she knows we're here?"
Peter climbs carefully out of the car, head cocked towards the trees. "She has Derek and Scott. She knows we'll come for them. I don't exactly think we can hope for much in the way of surprise."
"Well give me the damn bat, then." She feels better with its solid weight in her hands, even though she gave up playing sports around the same time Jackson grew into his jawline. Swing it and hold on, what's so hard about that? Allison can keep her weird compound bows and throwing stars; Lydia Martin has a baseball bat and a really big knife.
As she follows Peter into the woods, she considers that if this killing-evil-monsters thing is going to be more common, she will maybe have to reconsider her wardrobe choices. Even block heels are not proving great for trail-walking in the dark, and her tights are definitely snagged. Allison rocks the boots and skinny jeans look, but Lydia's not sure she can resign herself to such a fashion come-down. Maybe those wedge sneakers Gwen Stefani wears? This will need more thought.
Peter holds a hand up to halt her, and draws a deep breath through his nose. "We're close. Quietly now."
She grips the bat tighter, and stares into the darkness as if it will somehow magically part and reveal their quarry. Ahead, Peter sniffs the wind again. She's absurdly glad he's here, for probably the first time in ever. He might be weird and creepy and she definitely still wants to bleach her brain out after having him in there, but if nothing else, Peter Hale is smart. Not smart like she's smart, of course, but smart in a devious, crafty, Stiles Stilinski way. He obviously has an ulterior motive for all this helpfulness post-resurrection, but so far that ulterior motive involves being on their side. Derek is strong and fast and Scott is strong and good and Isaac is strong and has great cheekbones, but so far that has amounted to exactly diddly, because the Darach and the Alphas are stronger than all of them. But Peter, Peter doesn't want to be on the losing side. Since he clearly can't join the Alphas or the Darach, that means he needs to make sure their side doesn't lose. Lydia can get behind that. Plus, he has claws.
Of course hell will freeze over and Scott will be valedictorian before she ever admits any of this.
Peter holds up a hand again. "There. Over on the right." He's leaning close to her ear to whisper, and she suppresses a shiver, remembering the way he'd smelled sitting on the floor of the Hale house, covered in dirt and ash. He flicks an eyebrow at her, but doesn't comment.
Ahead of them is an old barn, dark but for a sliver flickering light coming from under the corrugated metal door, and when she strains her ear, she can hear that weird chanting from back in Ms. Blake's classroom. "It's her."
Peter nods. "And the Alphas too. Because why not? Everything else about this sucks." He rolls his eyes. "Okay. How are you at fake-bird-call-signals? I prefer a Dappled Scrub Jay, but since it's night, I might go with a Northern-"
"Please. This is not 'Survivor: Beacon Hills.'" She pulls out her cell phone, lights the screen, and flashes it twice. After a moment, she sees an answering flicker from her left, and another directly across from them. "There. No embarrassment needed."
He scowls. "Do you hate fun?"
"Since infancy." She hefts the bat. "Ready?"
They edge forward; Peter first, then her. His claws are out.
Across the clearing from them, Allison steps carefully out, carrying a truly massive bow, with Stiles guarding her back with a tire iron in one hand, and some sort of baggie in the other. She hopes it's wolfsbane. Or mountain ash. Or at least Comet, for chrissakes. Isaac approaches from the other side, already wolfed-out, and it looks absolutely ridiculous in that goofy grandma sweater. Hipsters are so weird.
Peter grabs her arm lightly, and shoots her a look like he knows her mind is wandering. She glares, but he keeps his hand there as they ghost quietly towards the barn. This is desperate, this is stupid, they're all going to get killed, and Peter Hale is touching her. Lydia might even punch Stiles when they get out of this. And Derek. And Scott. Men are the worst.
And then they're poised outside the door. Peter and Allison make some indecipherable military hand signals at each other, and everyone tenses. The chanting is louder, echoing around the clearing, and Lydia knows it has to be now. Peter braces himself, rears back, and plants a ferocious kick on the rickety door. It crashes backwards and then they're charging into the barn and people are snarling and running towards them, so she takes a swing at the first large thing in her bat-range, which turns out to be Kali.
The barefoot Alpha whirls and snarls at her, shaking out a broken arm that heals before her eyes. Lydia grips her bat tighter and snarls right back. "Come at me, you fugly cow!"
Kali smiles and leaps for her - she's faster than Lydia expected, and easily dodges her swing, but then Peter appears from nowhere and jumps onto her back. They go down in a rolling pile of claws and Lydia takes quick moment to survey the barn.
Scott and Derek are tied in the center of circle of torches with... Ms. Morrell? Ugh, she's never going to counseling again. There's a five-fold knot traced under them and they're all slumped at unnatural angles, but she can see Derek's eyes are open. When he catches her attention, he jerks his eyes to the left and she sees a flicker of black disappear around the corner.
Allison is battling Deucalion - why hadn't they thought of that earlier? Arrows, obviously a weak point for him, duh. Isaac is facing off with the twins, while Stiles works frantically at untying their friends inside the broken ring of mountain ash. They're not winning, but they definitely won't even have a chance at that unless they can take down Jennifer Blake.
Peter staggers back in front of her, wiping blood from his mouth before turning back to Kali. "I have never been more disgusted by feet in my life. What is it with this bitch and shoes?" He leaps onto Kali's back with a roar.
In all of this craziness, it's nice to know she can still laugh, even if it's at Peter Hale. "I'm going after the Darach," she yells at him, pointing with her bat in the direction Derek indicated. He meets her eyes over where he's currently attempting to gouge out the Alpha's neck, and for a moment she's reminded not of the terrifying monster in the leather coat who had walked towards her on the football field, but of the surprised and guilty look he'd given her when she showed up at the Hale loft two days ago. He looks... worried for her? Oh no, that shit is so not happening. As if he knows what she's thinking, he rolls his eyes and punches Kali hard in the temple. "Hurry your ass up, then!"
She flips him the finger and runs for the opposite end of the barn. Around the corner is an open storm cellar door, and Lydia slows to a careful stalk. Behind her, she hears Derek roar, which must mean he's free and able to help out and that's all the thought she'd going to spare for everyone else. She calculates where eyelevel will be on the ground, hoists her bat to the appropriate angle, and slowly descends the steps.
It's dark and musty down there, and the only light flickers through from to torches above. The chanting has faded, and even though she knows her friends must be making plenty of noise, she can hear her own rapid breathing. She consciously holds her breath, peering into the shadows. Nothing. Just dusty farm equipment and some plant life. She cautiously releases her breath, hearing it gust through the dank air. And someone else takes a breath in.
Without conscious thought, Lydia whirls, swinging the bat with all her might. It shatters against Jennifer Blake's hand.
The woman smiles. "My, what exciting extracurriculars you have." She lunges forward and grabs Lydia around the neck. Her grip is supernaturally strong and she easily lifts her off her feet. Lydia hits her ineffectually with the remains of her bat, but Jennifer whirls her around and the useless weapon flies out of her hand. Then there's a familiar cord wrapped tight around her windpipe cutting off her air and she can feel blood on her neck and oh god Sheriff Stilinski's not here this time she's going to die-
But then her brain kicks back in, because dying or not, Lydia Martin has IQ of 147 and she learns from her mistakes. The Darach is trying to put something in her mouth - um, ew - it tastes like a plant? She remembers that Danny ended up in the hospital with mistletoe poisoning, but she's choking, she can't spit it out and try to breathe at the same time. She desperately scrabbles in her purse and one hand closes over the handle of the knife and the other on the blade but she doesn't care about a little blood when she can slip it under that damn cord and it bites into her neck but that's fine too because after a moment of struggle she's free.
She stumbles but stays on her feet, one hand holding out the knife towards Jennifer. "Stay back."
The woman laughs. "Oh, Lydia. You always were my best student."
A voice says, "That's my line," and Peter leaps from the stairs to tackle her. They're rolling around on the floor and she can't get a clear shot until he manages to get the druid in a submission hold like something out of one of those gross MMA fights that Jackson used to make her watch. "Now, Lydia!" he wheezes.
She approaches carefully, feeling the woman's baleful eyes on her. She's never killed anyone before. This feels like a big thing. But then she thinks about all the bodies she's seen, all the bodies she didn't want to see and she squeezes her eyes closed and plunges the knife into her teacher's chest.
It stays there, quivering, for a moment, and then the Darach laughs. "You can't kill me, little banshee. You don't even know what I am." She jerks out of Peter's hold and rolls to her feet, but he leaps on her again and the knife goes flying, and how exactly are they going to kill her now?
Their scuffle bumps the remains of her bat, and it rolls across the ground to bump gently against her feet. It's just the handle now, with jagged shards stretching out where the end broke off.
Lydia Martin has an IQ of 147 and she learns from her mistakes.
When she approaches them again, Peter is looking a little worse for the wear. His perfectly-coiffed hair is full of cobwebs and sticking out at all angles, and there's blood running from his forehead. "Would you hurry it up, Martin? I don't exactly have all night, here."
She hefts the bat handle in her hand. "You'll want to watch this one."
Jennifer still looks smug, but with a shriek, Lydia stabs her in the same spot on her chest, driving the splintered end in with all her strength.
The woman laughs again. "The rumors about you are right, Lydia. You are crazy, because this is the definition of insanity, trying the same thing ov-" she coughs. A rim of black blood gathers at the corner of her mouth. "Wh-" she coughs again, and her features flicker, the scarred face of the Darach breaking through for a moment. Her eyes are wide when they meet Lydia's again, and a dark trickle drips from her nose.
Lydia allows herself to smile. "Oh, I wouldn't say I tried exactly the same thing..."
The teacher looks at her in horror for one long moment, and then with a scream collapses in Peter's hold, the hairless head of her true form twisting in agony and putrid liquid liquid spilling out around it.
After a moment, she falls still.
Lydia wipes her mouth and daintily steps out of reach of the pool of what used to be her substitute teacher. Peter climbs wearily to his feet, wiping goo from his shirt in disgust. "What in the name of sweet Jiminy Cricket was that?"
She gingerly fishes her knife off the floor and digs a wet wipe out of her purse to clean it. "She tried to make me eat mistletoe. So I spit it on the bat before I stabbed her with it." She shrugs and drops the dirty wipe on the floor. "Guess this banshee business is worth something after all."
He raises and eyebrow and smoothes his hair. "I'm impressed, Lydia. I knew I picked you for a reason."
For once, his words don't send a wash of fear through her. She cocks a hip instead. "Please, you were lucky it was me out there."
He snorts and follows her towards the stairs. "As if. I totally planned it."
"You wish you could have planned something as fabulous as me."
"Um, only because I did."
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
And as Lydia Martin steps out of the storm cellar and up into the light where her friends are waiting, she finds she's smiling.