Allison

Dead, dead, dead. She's dead. She's dead... DEAD!

The pain is too much to bare. She's been trying to fight it ever since she screamed her best friend's name. She's been able to ignore it, been able to hide it. But it's still there. And she hates the fact that she isn't strong enough to stop herself from feeling the pain. Hates that she has to pretend that she's okay, that nothing is wrong. It kills her to see everyone move on with their lives because they only took a week - maybe less - to grieve. They've all accepted the death of her best friend, all except her.

Lydia sighs as she watches - more like glares at - Stiles and Malia. There is a bitter taste in her mouth, causing it to twist in a snarl like form. Her gaze goes on to Kira and then a deep hatred comes over her. Kira is sweet and loving but isn't giving any of them the sufficient space or time to grieve. Especially not to her and Scott.

She slams her locker shut and strides over to where Scott is.

"Hey," she whispers, eyes soft and body relaxed. She acts differently when the True Alpha is around. Not only because he is her Alpha, but because he understands her pain.

The wolf looks at her and smiles softly. "Hey," he murmurs. And they both just look at each other, gazing intently into each other's eyes. He makes her feel exposed. Makes her feel vulnerable and weak, so she simply tears her eyes away. But he's still looking at her, and she has to bite her lip to keep it from trembling. Has to take a deep breath to bring air into her lungs.

"I'll see you tonight at the animal clinic," she says at last and hurries off. She basically runs to her car, and though it's not time to leave school, she goes anyway. The pain that has been bubbling up inside of her is just too much; just TOO MUCH. And she can't stop herself from crying. She cries and cries, her whole body shaking. Her heart aches for her one and only best friend. And she hates herself. Hates herself too much because she should have done something - anything! - to prevent her death. But she didn't, and so now her best friend is dead.

He waits for her at the animal clinic. He doesn't care if the others are coming. The wolf is pissed at them for not taking the sufficient time to grieve. But he doesn't let them know that. There is a hole in his heart. Deep and empty and cold. It hurts so much; makes him want to kill without caring, but he knows that the love of his life would be disappointed and so he doesn't.

He waits. They all arrive. All except for the little banshee. It worries him a little. What if she decided that being in his Pack was no longer a good idea? What if she was in trouble? What if... what if...?

But then she enters the room and every doubt disappears. She looks flawless as usual. And though now she follows his lead, he can still sense her dominance. It should make him feel threatened, but it doesn't; it only makes him feel more at ease. Because despite all the losses and dangers, she's still there and knows exactly what to do. She still holds them all together. Without her, he'd probably be dead.

The discussion keeps his eye on her and notices her cringe slightly . Notices her disapproving gaze fixed on Stiles, Malia, Derek and Kira. It makes him curious, makes him want to ask. But he knows that she will eventually say what's on her mind. He's right. She doesn't last half an hour before she explodes.

Fury has been bubbling up inside her. But she's been keeping quiet. She can't hold it any longer, though. Not when Kira looks at her with concern in her eyes and dares ask if she's okay.

"No, I'm not okay!" She explodes. "I am NOT okay! My BEST FRIEND is DEAD! And you guys are going on and on with your lives as if she never entered them! As if she never existed!" She spins around and points a menacing finger at Stiles.

"You! You should have told us something was wrong! But you didn't. And now she's dead! And all you do is pretend that you didn't know her and just suck Malia's face!

"Malia, I get that you're new and all, but that doesn't give you the right to not grieve! Because she, she helped make you human! You wouldn't be here if she hadn't helped!"

Her hard green eyes turn to Derek.

"You have the WORST taste in girlfriends," she hisses. "If it hadn't been for that bitch called Kate, none of this would've happened. If it hadn't been for Jennifer and her stupid need for revenge, Stiles and Scott and her, they wouldn't have done that stupid ritual and Stiles wouldn't have been possessed. If you hadn't left her in the Pack, it wouldn't have happened!"

By the time she's finished with Derek, her whole face is red and her eyes ice cold. But she's no where near done. Kira is next.

"I wish you would just SHUT UP and stop asking if we're okay! I wish you would just BACK OFF because, can't you see you're suffocating us?! That you're opening the wound that is slowly and barely beginning to heal?! I hate you! I fucking HATE you!"

Now she's done, and still her body shakes as her eyes start to prickle. Everyone stares at her, shocked. And now she feels ashamed.

"I'm sorry," she whispers and then goes before anyone can react.

He sees her every single day since that night she exploded. He sees her, but doesn't talk to her. She always manages to escape before he can reach her. Everyone has tried to apologize to her and talk to her, but no one has succeeded. Lydia always just disappears.

He's worried about her. He doesn't know where she's at and he panics. He is losing control more often and he feels like he's going to snap. The wolf... he can't take it anymore. He just can't. And so he goes to visit her.

The front door is unlocked. It worries him a bit, but he doesn't smell anything that shouldn't be there. He goes to her room and finds her there, having a smoke and drinking. It surprises him since she's never smelled like anything except for sex and watermelon.

"Lydia?" He asks. She looks at him with dazed eyes and grins.

"Hey, sexy," she greets. He stares at her, confused.

It is wrong to mix alcohol and drugs. They've told her this repeatedly; drilled it into her head. Except that now she doesn't care. She feels completely weightless. Giddy.

"Come here," she murmurs while opening her arms to hug him. It makes her giggle that he hesitates but still goes to her. She's giddy now, but her mood changes quickly and so she pulls away. Pushes him away with all her might. Looks at him with cold yet tear filled eyes. "What do you want?" She demands. And she can't stop herself because of all the alcohol and drugs in her system. Because of all the anger she has yet to release. She just slaps him.

More than ever, he is confused. His cheek stings a bit, but he ignores it. Most guys would be furious that a girl him them; still, he isn't most guys and she isn't most girls. He is Scott McCall and she's Lydia Martin. Tortured souls who have lost precious things and gained horrors.

"Lydia," he murmurs. And then she starts apologizing and trying to explain. But it's hard for her to speak, he can see that. The wolf wraps his arms around her and pulls her tight to his chest, his little banshee. He hugs her tight and kisses the top of her head. "It's okay," he whispers repeatedly, over and over.

Those almost red curls bounce and sway as she shakes her head. Because it isn't okay. Her emerald eyes swell with tears and she hugs him tight.

"I miss her," she chokes out. It's hard to swallow. Hard to breath. Yet she makes the effort to speak. To tell him how she feels because she hasn't told anyone. Not her mom; not the counselor. Not Mr. Argent; not even Prada. She hasn't told anyone, not a soul.

"She... she was my only best friend. She... she was my first and last best friend." And then she cries. It hurts, hurts so much. It's as if someone is stabbing her repeatedly and making her go through the worst pain possible.

"Jackson left and now her..." Everyone around her dies. Everyone she cares about leaves her at one point or another. They all leave. All leave her lost and insecure and helpless and petrified. She's lost the love of her life and now she's lost her huntress.

A terrible ache comes over him. Seeing her cry, seeing her so vulnerable... it's just so heartbreaking. He's seen her cry a few times before. When Jackson was killed but then revived and when her life almost ended at the hands of Jennifer. He's always seen her as this strong and dominant female full of confidence and knowledge. Has always admired her for that because even through the worst, she's always managed to handle the situations.

Scott whispers her name softly, pain painted on his face. He understands her pain; knows now what it's like to lose the love of your life.

"I'm sorry." And he is. He truly and really is sorry. Because if it weren't for him, she wouldn't be going through all this pain. He feels ashamed and guilty that he has dragged her into a living Hell of a supernatural life. So sorry... so guilty... If only he had listened to Derek then none of this would be happening. He wouldn't have lost the hu tress to his wolf nor his love to his life.

Crying is for babies. For weaklings. And Lydia Martin is not a baby nor a weakling. Yet she cries and cries in the arms of the boy she once couldn't stand. The tears are almost unstoppable, it's pathetic. She pulls away and looks into those puppy brown eyes that make her feel exposed and vulnerable yet secure and protected.

"Scott..." It's almost not a word at all, his name. She can't stop herself from crashing her lips to his. Human contact has been limited and she needs to feel the warmth that only another human being can provide. She needs to feel something - anything - other than sadness and pain. So she just kisses him.

The strawberry blonde has always surprised him , but never more times than today. The wolf wants to pull away, but he can't. It's not like she's holding him tight or anything. No; it's because he hasn't felt anything other than numbness. And he can smell the need for human contact. Can smell the desperation and sadness. The lust that is starting to slowly build. And he can taste the bitterness of the alcohol and the leftover of the drugs. Can taste the sweetness of her lips.

He kisses her back, as gentle as he can. But it's clear she doesn't want to take it slow.

Her lips attack his viciously, leaving no time or anything for gentleness. She wants to forget, just like always. Except now she wants to forget the feelings of loss and pain. Wants to feel anything other than what she has been feeling lately. She pulls him on top of her as lust begins to build higher and faster. Her hands tug the hem of his shirt and then it disappears.

Lust begins to spread. It doesn't help that she's an amazing kisser or that she is running her hands up and down his chest. There is an excitement - a buzz - a need so heavy and strong; something he hasn't felt for what seems like ages. Inside, his wolf growls in its cage. It - his wolf - can smell the dominance and need radiating off the banshee, and it wants her to surrender to him. To make her his.

Everything has seemed to have fast forwarded because he's inside her, making her moan and beg for more. She sounds like a whore, but she doesn't care. Doesn't care at all because she hasn't felt anything since That Night and he is making her forget.

The taste and smell of watermelon, the feel of silky soft skin - her moans and begs... it all dominates his mind and he bangs her hard and fast upon her requests. She makes him feel important and good and powerful. His wolf howls in joy, and the two of them are feeling completely proud that they've managed to make the vixen surrender.

They bang and bang each other nonstop. It's pathetic. Ridiculous. He dominates her, she dominates him. They take turns and try different things; things he never knew existed or were even possible. She shows him how dirty she can be. Shows him what a crazy and amazing and dirty little banshee she really is. He doesn't complain; she's glad she can make him howl in joy.

Seconds, minutes, hours... they all pass by fast, and they've probably been banging for a long while. But they don't care. They won't stop at all. And they bang and bang until neither knows where their skins end and begin. By the time they stop, the roo, is reeking of sex and they're both exhausted. By the time they stop, what they have been living for the past year or two seems like another life; a life they don't know and never want to go back to.

It's probably been a week or so since anyone has seen them. Not that they care. They shower and eat and bang and shower while banging and then they bang some more. They try to talk, to sort things out, but it always ends in tears and pain and heartfelt sorries and sex. So they just stop trying to talk and go with the flow.

They finally decide to go back to school; it's a decision they both make and agree on because they need to get back on track. Every single one of the Pack members knows there's something going on with the Alpha and the banshee. The two have become inseparable and are constantly somehow touching. Malia was the first one to notice, and then Stiles and Kira. They've all tried to approach the two, but the two disappear before they can get to them. When they sit down next to the two and try to start a conversation, the Alpha and banshee just give them blank looks and those polite smiles you give to strangers.

At Lydia's house, Scott and her study and continue the pattern of eating and having sex. They help each other dull the pain. And eventually, they forget what they wanted to forget. They become dependent of each other because they are the only thing they remember and know. And they forget everything and everyone. They lose themselves in lust and sex and forget. They forget their parents and friends. They forget the reason that caused them pain. They bang and bang until they can no longer remember or feel pain when they hear HER name. And when they are asked about HER, they merely look and ask, "Who is Allison?"