Hello Darlings! My name is Kara, and in order to survive this next several months without Teen Wolf, I've decided to write out my dream version of season five (more or less). Everything follows canon till the very end of season four, however this picks up near the end of Smoke and Mirrors with some off screen moments I guess you could say. I will also add a few flashbacks of other headcanoned moments, off screen moments what have you as we go along, and to give some characters more depth. So, yes, as this is following canon, Scira and Stalia will be featured, as well as whatever Derek and Braeden are called. This is going to be mostly Lydia centric, with Marrish developing. So if you don't like those ships (not that the fic is going to be ship centric, it's not, I pinky {but I mean ppls relationships are important so they will be featured but so will friendships like expect a girls night between Lydia, Kira and Malia YOU BEST PREPARE YOURSELVES FOR SOME GIRL TIME OKAY} this is mostly going to be about my red haired angel banshee Lydia Martin) please just don't read it. And if you do, please keep any not so nice comments to yourselves. I'm writing this fic for myself, and for anyone else who would enjoy reading it. If you don't ship those ships, THAT'S AWESOME. Your awesome. Your ships are awesome. But so are my ships. So please keep that in mind when reading and reviewing.
I will be posting new chapters every Thursday, Friday or Saturday, depending on how busy I am or how impatient I am to posties. This might kick off a little slow but I promise I have big plans (also Marrish is going to be slow going bc hello he's an officer she's a minor she's going to need to be legal and them to have some major relationship development before anything remotely romantic happens ily all). Large plans. With feels and angst and action and drama and possibly death.
Also just a little acknowledgement that I do not own Teen Wolf, all of the canon characters and events belong to Jeff Davis and the writer's of the show.
Happy reading!
The amount of relief Lydia had felt when, for once, all of them were to be coming home intact, couldn't be compared to anything but pure bliss. Of course she was sure they would all be slightly worse for wear, but no fatal wounds had been reported. No one was going to need rushed to Deaton's exam table with some new form of wolfsbane wreaking havoc on their body, or to the hospital where Mrs. McCall would have to jump through hoops to get them treated without anyone finding out the big secret.
She had been nervous though, irrationally nervous. Not quite believing Stiles when he called to tell her everyone was okay. She knew they were okay. She had known immediately when the imminent threat had passed. A great weight had lifted from her shoulders when Derek had somehow become perfectly healthy again. While she had some theories, she still hadn't been told exactly what happened to him, and planned to make Derek explain sooner rather than later.
Her young heart was practically throbbing as they all pulled up to Deaton's office, where she and the veterinarian were waiting outside. He didn't seem entirely convinced either, his eyes sharp as if waiting to assess any potential wounds. As they all stepped out into the parking lot, Lydia did a headcount.
Everyone except for Mr. Argent. Her last connection to Allison. She immediately turned a pair of accusatory eyes to Stiles, terror welling in her chest. Scott knew before Stiles could figure out what he had done wrong, and stepped forward, holding up his hands to stop her before she could start yelling.
"No-no-no, Lydia, he stayed in Mexico. To find Kate. He's.. He's mostly okay. He'll be okay.." Lydia wanted more information, and opened her mouth to demand it. She was stopped by Deaton, who placed a hand on her shoulder. After giving him a confused look, she looked back to the back. It was then she noticed just how tired and worn out they looked. Her eyes did an inventory of injuries, or in most cases where the injuries should have been, scanning over each of them.
Kira seemed the worst off. While she didn't have any visible wounds, her clothes were torn and bloodied, as well as some of her hair being matted down. She also appeared to be the most tired, which could have been because she wasn't as used to this sort of thing as the rest of the pack. However, judging from the pained, guilty expression Scott had whenever he looked at her, Lydia could tell there was more to it than that. Whatever had happened, Lydia knew it would be a good while before he stopped looking at her like that, before he stopped blaming himself for whatever had happened.
Malia didn't seem horribly affected by everything that had happened with Peter, judging by the fact that she was back to be abnormally attached to Stiles. Something that, despite how much she actually liked Malia, had bothered her at first. It hadn't been a huge annoyance, just a slight tug on her metaphorical heartstrings every time Stiles gave Malia that overly-adoring look. She had never really had any real intentions of pursuing anything with Stiles, but there was no denying they had something after everything they had been through. Now, watching the how happy he was with someone who's weird fit eerily well with his, she felt a different sort of tug.
As did seeing their resident sour wolf looking healthy again, and a little less sour. Which could be attributed largely to the scarred woman standing next to him, gun slung over her shoulder. Lydia felt indebted to Braeden, who had helped Derek stay alive without his werewolf abilities. Also for showing him more human affection than he'd had in probably years. How many years would probably be an unknown fact for the rest of eternity, as he wasn't keen in letting on the secrets of how werewolves aged.
Lastly, her eyes fell on Deputy Parrish. He was standing off to the side, alone and somewhat out of place. Besides being mildly sunburned and covered in as much desert sand as everyone else, he seemed generally untouched. Good, she thought, at least one of you knows how to stay out of harm's way.
Letting out a resigned sigh, she stepped to the side, allowing them to file in to Deaton's office. The vet ushered them to the back room. While they didn't hold any visible lasting injuries, he was insistent on checking them all over anyway to avoid any surprises. Except for Parrish, who promised he hadn't come close to getting injured, and who now stood by the door, staring out into the mostly empty parking lot. Lydia, being the only other one remaining in the waiting area, found herself moving to join him.
"You can stop watching now, you know."
He didn't seem exactly startled, but obviously hadn't noticed her approach. He was distracted, that much was obvious. "Hm?"
"We should be safe now, or at least as safe as we can be, for a little while. It feels like we might get a little peace. You should enjoy it while it lasts."
He shook his head, turning to look at her. "It's not…" His voice trailed off before he had even really started, green eyes focusing on something above her own. "Are you hurt?"
Lydia's eyebrows knit together in confusion as she lifted a hand to her forehead, bony fingers finding a small cut near her hairline. "Oh. The Sheriff.. He blew up the Berserker meant to keep me in Beacon Hills. I guess I didn't come out quite unscathed." Noting his still worried expression, she gave a half-hearted smile. "No worries. What were you saying?"
Her chance to gain a little insight on the Deputy had passed, however, and he shook his head. "I should get back to the station. I have a lot of paperwork to do on… All the things that haven't happen. Call me, if you need anything." He stared at her, his piercing green eyes conveying his sincerity, until she gave a nod of acknowledgement. He paused for just one moment after departing the vet's office, reaching up to give her arm a little squeeze. And then he was gone.
Lydia watched him walk away, turning just in time to miss his glance back, the pause in his step as he looked at her one last time.
Her attention turned to Derek as he emerged from the back. His visit with Deaton had been relatively short, and he was apparently the first one who'd been looked at. It wasn't any surprise to Lydia, Derek's life was no longer in any immediate danger, at least no more than the rest of them. She crossed her arms over her chest, fixing him with a classic Lydia Martin glare. "Did it ever occur to you to tell me that you weren't actually dying?"
The man sighed, shaking his head. "That would have required me knowing I wasn't actually dying. And I was, technically. And I think there's a chance that I could have. I didn't know until it was happening."
"Until what was happening?" The pair turned to Stiles as he entered the lobby, rubbing his eyes so much Lydia was worried he would manage to hurt himself.
"I don't know. Not for sure. Not all of it anyway. But my mother.. She could transform into a black wolf, so the same thing might have happened to her."
The three of them stood there, Stiles and Lydia fixated on Derek as they waited for him to elaborate. When it became obvious he was going to do nothing of the sort, Stiles slumped down into one of the metal chairs. "I could sleep for days, dude."
"We have practice tomorrow," Liam reminded as she shuffled out from the exam room, his voice barely audible as he collapsed a few seats down from Stiles.
They had both reminded Lydia of the fact that she should really, really be asleep right now. Or more importantly, that she should at least be tired. It was nearing dawn, and while she hadn't driven to Mexico and back like the rest of them, she had been awake just as long. Which was what, 36 hours by now? Forty? But she didn't feel the least bit tired, although the bags under her eyes told a different story. There was still so much she needed to do, too many questions left unanswered.
What had happened to Derek? How on earth had Meredith managed to pull all those strings? Did she have help? Who was Malia's mother? What was Parrish?
What was Parrish. That was something that could be worked on tonight, that wouldn't require too much energy. Reading was second nature to Lydia, she could absorb any book in just a matter of hours, depending on the thickness. And while the Bestiary was fairly large, she was confident she could tackle it that night. Or rather, that morning.
"I'm going to go. Home. To.. get some sleep."
Stiles and Derek both gave her doubtful looks, whereas Liam just snored in acknowledgment.
"Let someone drive you-"
Lydia held up a hand to stop Stiles. "You've all just driven to Mexico and back. I think I'd be better off driving myself." At his slightly wounded expression, she added; "Thank you, Stiles. Keep me updated, and tell the rest I said goodbye." He nodded, knowing better than to argue with her.
As she walked to her car, she realized that for once Parrish hadn't offered her a ride home. It worried her, wondering just how distracted the Deputy was.
She managed to make it home without running too many stop signs, and up to her room without waking her mother. She grabbed the book copy of the Bestiary, settling into her bed to begin the search.
Only to awaken three hours later to the boise of her mother's soft knocks, accompanied by the constant vibrations of her phone letting her know she had several missed calls.
"Sweetheart? Lydia, you were late to school. While that's not exactly.. Unusual, these days, none of your friends could get ahold of you. I was worried…" Worried? Her mother? Perhaps Mrs. Martin hadn't been quite as oblivious to everything her daughter had been up to as she thought. A few more tired blinks reminded Lydia that her mother was a teacher. And should be at school. And if she wasn't.. She had left work to check on her.
"I'm, uhm.. I have a headache, actually. I.." She looked down at herself, fully dressed and laying on top of the covers. Her mother would never buy it if she saw her like this, having been caught too many times, usually still drunk. "I.. I typed up a text you. I must not have hit send. I'm sorry mom, you should go back to work." Her mother was silent, and Lydia knew she had been too sweet. Adding an edge of annoyance to her voice, which almost physically pained her, she added; "Seriously, mom. I'm almost eighteen, I can handle a day home alone."
"Well.. Alright. Call me if you need anything."
Relief flooded Lydia's chest, as did guilt. She'd gotten over the whole typical-teen-who-can't-stand-her-parents phase some time ago.
Back when she had been in the dark about all the supernatural hudu of Beacon Hills, Lydia had envied Allison. Her parents had seemed so normal, like real parents. They were a little strict, and her mother could be mildly terrifying, but they really cared. And they loved each other. That much had been obvious. They hadn't been those awkward, overly PDA-ing parents. But you could see it, through their little looks and familiar touches. Lydia had envied Allison growing up with parents who could actually be in the same room together.
And then Mrs. Argent shot herself because she'd been bitten by an Alpha, and Lydia held her best friend as she broke into a million little pieces.
Lydia had begun to appreciate the little things her mother did for her. Not that she acted like it. If her mother got the slightest inkling she had the opportunity to become closer to her daughter, she'd want to spend more time together. Time Lydia didn't have. Lydia also knew it was probably better that way, safer for her mother.
With a resigned sigh, Lydia launched herself out of bed. Her mind still had that sort of untired buzzing feeling that came with being totally exhausted but unable to sleep, fueling her to keep moving, keep doing. She had moved straight to the door, her brain already churning out an endless list of things she needed to do. Just as the knob turned in her hand, Lydia caught sight of herself in the vanity mirror.
What little make up she'd had on was smudged under her eyes from sleep, making her look ripe and ready to work in a haunted house. She had lost a bit of weight recently, mostly in her face, and it gave her eyes a sort of hollow look. Due to stress and a lack of sleep, she imagined. Also probably associated with her lovely knew habit of forgetting to eat regularly. Another thing she needed to work on. But first, she turned the knob back until the door latch clicked in place.