Chapter 2

Parrish was waiting for them outside the morgue when they arrived, his mouth set into a thin line. Lydia smiled as they approached, raking her fingers through her hair to try to improve her appearance somewhat after being outside in the rain. Stiles shrugged off his coat, nodding at his partner as they pulled up next to him.

"What did we miss?" he asked, impatiently pushing the wet hair out of his eyes.

"Not much, the coroner hasn't started on the brain or anything yet. She's still checking out the situation with this guy's eyes. " Parrish reached behind and pushed the door open, leading the way into the morgue. "She'll be back in a few minutes. She told me before she left that she found fibers from a leather glove in his socket."

Lydia and Stiles shared a look. "We considered the possibility that this might be a hunter," she said, blowing on her fingers as the cold air hit her. "Or a group of hunters who may have chased John Doe into Beacon Hills." She glanced down at the head, resting forlornly on the metal slab in the center of the room. She resisted the urge to scrunch her nose in disgust. "Or perhaps he was trying to hide here, and they found him."

"If this was a hunter," Stiles muttered, a deep crease in his forehead as he looked at what was left of John Doe, "they didn't kill him for no reason."

Lydia looked at Parrish, biting her lip. "Hunters usually have a code, or rules, and they don't usually operate alone."

"So we're either dealing with a rogue hunter, or a pack of…" Stiles gestured at the gaping eye sockets and greying skin, screwing up his face. "…Whatever this guy was."

"Or," Parrish interrupted, folding his arms over his chest, "we have a serial killer on our hands who is murdering random victims with a sword, with absolutely no supernatural connection."

Lydia resisted the urge to look at Stiles again, knowing what he was thinking. Beacon Hills didn't attract serial killers, it attracted monsters.

A couple of years ago Stiles would have argued, waving his arms around dramatically while he tried to convince everyone that he was always right about these things. But he worked for the department now, and Parrish was his partner, and it was his job to keep an open mind. Besides, if there really was a serial killer targeting the innocent civilians of their town, it was still his job to stop them. He was still, first and foremost, a protector.

The coroner pushed through the door, interrupting their thoughts as she placed a clipboard down on the counter with a clatter. "Oh, you're here, good. I've got something to show you."

"We know about the fibers already," Stiles responded as they all crowded around the table under the light. Lydia rested her hands on the cold metal, bracing herself against it and staring down at the severed head as the coroner pulled on latex gloves.

"I found more than just fibers," she muttered, reaching over and forcing the mouth open. "You've got quite the case on your hands here."

Stiles leaned over, his eyes bright with curiosity. Lydia had seen that look countless times before, and she swallowed down a smirk. The gore didn't really seem to bother him any more, which was a vast improvement from his teenage years. Nowadays Lydia watched as Stiles lost himself in cases, searching for answers until the sun came up, only looking up from his laptop when she brought him fresh coffee in her slippers. She could tell him he needed to sleep more, but he wouldn't listen to her. He was made for this line of work.

"I saw something strange earlier, but I didn't move anything until you were all here. Look, right there." She pointed with a gloved hand to the back of John Doe's throat. "Do you see that?"

Lydia ducked under Stiles' arm, her curiosity peaking too. "What is it?" She could see something red and shiny.

"Can you get it out for us?" Parrish asked, squinting as he tried to identify what it was. The coroner nodded, reaching inside the mouth and pulling it out. She let it roll into the middle of her hand as the three of them crowded round her.

Lydia cocked her head to the side, staring. "It looks like...a bead. Some sort of wooden painted bead, like something you'd have on a piece of jewelry." She furrowed her brow, looking up at Stiles and Parrish. "Why would he have jewelry in his mouth?"

Parrish shrugged. "Like I have a clue, I stopped asking these kinds of questions years ago." He let out a frustrated sigh, looking at Stiles. "I have to go back to the station and help your dad with another case. A missing child."

Lydia felt her heart sink, and put a comforting hand on Parrish's shoulder. She couldn't imagine some of the shit that the Sheriff's department had to deal with, and was glad she only helped when it came to the supernatural, or in this case, the just plain weird.

Parrish left, and the coroner told them to go home too, saying she would call if she found anything else. Lydia was glad to leave – she'd always struggled with the autopsies, and preferred sitting in front of her research, problem solving, rather than watching people cut other people open.

The drive home was quiet, the radio crackling as she and Stiles mulled over everything in their heads. Lydia worked part time at a café down the street but she wasn't due in today, and it was supposed to be Stiles' day off, but she knew that didn't make a difference when there was a mystery to be solved. She had to admit, it was a pretty crazy case, and it had them both stumped.

Stiles was the first to break the silence.

"Oh man, all that rotten flesh has really got my appetite," he mused, tapping his fingers on the wheel. He shot her a sideways look, grinning. "Takeout?" He asked, a hopeful twinge in his voice.

"Only if it's Mr. Wu's. You know I only go for Wu's."

"Mr. Wu's it is."

They went through the drive-thru, ordering noodles and spring rolls with extra salad for Lydia and extra sauce for Stiles. They barely even had to ask any more. The servers knew their order by heart.

Lydia held the bag of food on her lap as Stiles drove the couple of blocks home, feeding him half a spring roll and rolling her eyes when he complained that it was too hot.

"Jesus, my taste buds are no more!"

"What did you think was going to happen?!"

"Well, I wasn't expecting them to be so fresh! They usually sit under the heater for an hour before anyone orders them!"

"Hey, don't insult Mr. Wu's, okay? He makes good comfort food. We're gonna need it, today is gonna be a rough one, I can tell."

They made their way up to the apartment and unlocked the door, Stiles flopping immediately on to the couch as Lydia pulled two bottles of water out of the fridge. They spread the food out on the coffee table and Lydia pulled her carton of noodles into her lap, reaching for chopsticks. "So where do we start?" She asked, chewing on a piece of tofu.

"Maybe at the location where the head was found?" Stiles replied, opening his phone as he shoved a forkful of pad thai into his mouth. He couldn't use chopsticks. Lydia had tried to teach him once, but stopped when he nearly stabbed himself in the eye. Twice.

Lydia leaned over and looked at the location on the map in Stiles' phone. "It isn't near the nemeton at least."

"But you think this is a supernatural case, right?" Stiles asked, frowning.

She drew in a deep breath, and let it out, closing her eyes briefly. "Yes, I do. I wish I didn't, but it seems way too strange."

Stiles nodded, still engrossed in his phone. "Look, he wasn't really found near anything. That part of the woods is rarely used." He tapped his fork against his mouth, a confused look on his face. Lydia suddenly remembered the dream she'd had that morning, and buried her face in her noodles, shrinking away from him. Now was not a good time for him to be drawing attention to his mouth. She could still vividly picture him licking his lips before thoroughly going down on her. Hell, she could still hear his groans as he curled his fingers at just the right angle-

Stiles snapped his fingers in front of her face, and she jumped, her eyes huge as she blinked at him. She'd been staring into her food, stray noodle hanging out of her mouth.

"You okay?" Stiles asked, looking amused. "You were gone for a sec there."

Um, I'm...fine," she stuttered, feeling her ears get hot. She kept her eyes trained firmly on the wall opposite. Stiles raised his eyebrows, but said nothing, shaking his head and going back to the case.

"Okay, so as I was saying, he was found really far out. That's why the flesh is so decayed, no one found him for days."

Lydia cleared her throat, pushing the extremely inappropriate thoughts about Stiles' tongue to the back of her mind. They were working. She needed to get her shit together.

"The rest of him could be anywhere," she mused, opening her laptop. "If this really is a hunter, they wouldn't dispose of the body and not the head. It seems pointless." She nibbled on a piece of broccoli.

"Unless there was something on the body, something they didn't want us to see."

"Like a tattoo? A pack marking?"

"Maybe." Stiles chewed his lip. "What else do we know so far?"

Lydia placed her almost empty carton on the table, sitting up straighter. "John Doe, found in the woods in the middle of nowhere. Head chopped off, eyes gouged out. The murder weapon is a sword or machete of some kind, and the killer obviously took it with them. He had glove fibers in his eye sockets and a red bead in his mouth."

Stiles was listening, his hands resting under his chin. "The killer was smart, and the crime was premeditated."

Lydia nodded thoughtfully. "I'm thinking it's about time I dig out the bestiary. Whatever John Doe was, I don't think we've come across it before."

"Good idea. I'll make us some tea."

They sat side by side, Lydia poring over the bestiary, mumbling in Latin and sipping on chamomile tea while Stiles looked through photos of medieval swords and modern hunting weapons, trying to find a link to some kind of hunter. He'd called Chris and asked about other groups aside from the Argents and the Calaveras, but without a murder weapon there wasn't much information for him to work with. He'd noted down all the other hunters Chris could name and then stared at the names, shaking his head, before resuming his search. They had so much work to do.

Neither of them realized when the sun started to go down, yellow-orange light slanting through the windows on to the floor in front of them. They'd been at it for hours, and Lydia felt her eyelids drooping, the light from her laptop screen making them itchy. She yawned, letting her head fall to the back of the couch.

His teeth are on her neck, and she arches into him, tilting her head back to give him better access. She's sighing with pleasure as he grinds himself into her, pushing her into the couch. "I want you," he whispers against the shell of her ear, his voice husky. She can feel his teeth graze her earlobe and she shudders, groaning.

She doesn't remember how they ended up sprawled on the couch, Stiles' body on top of hers, her legs around his waist, but she isn't complaining. She digs her fingernails into his shoulder blades, enjoying the way it makes him tense up, his breath hitching.

"You're so fucking hot, Lydia," he continues, and she can feel him against her core, hard and pulsing, so she pushes up into him, her legs gripping him tighter. He lets out a strangled moan, sucking hard on his favorite spot, just above her collarbone. "You don't know how long I've wanted this."

"Oh, I know," she breathes, reaching for the hem of his tee. "You can have me, Stiles. You can have whatever you want, just...keep doing what you're doing."

She feels him smiling against her skin. "Okay."

He pulls back to remove his shirt, and Lydia takes the opportunity to sit up, one hand pushing his chest until his back hits the couch and she's straddling him. She likes to be in charge, and with Stiles it doesn't happen often.

He's gazing up at her with fire in his eyes as she unbuttons her blouse, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. She leaves it unbuttoned, a thin strip of skin showing, teasing him. "Remind me how long you've wanted this?"

Stiles reaches out, his fingers grazing the sheer lace of her bra as he skims his hand down the opening, looking at her like he's never seen her before. "Too long," he breathes, and sits up to push the material off her shoulders. He pulls a bra strap down and kisses the bare skin there. Lydia shivers. "It's always been you, Lydia."

She tugs at the hem of his tee impatiently, because it should be off by now. He helps her pull it over his head, and his muscles ripple under her fingers as he jumps at her touch. His hair falls into his eyes, and Lydia thinks this is the most beautiful thing she's ever seen – Stiles, unruly and shirtless and hers.

She's staring, and he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he's grinning like an idiot, holding her gaze, daring her to make a move. She licks her lips and leans in, holding her breath as they softly bump noses, closing the gap between-

Stiles' ringtone went off, and the sound pierced right through the middle of her dream. Everything faded to nothing as her eyes popped open and she scanned the coffee table in front of her, bewildered.

She'd fallen asleep on Stiles' shoulder, and he was softly snoring next to her, his head resting on the back of the couch, mouth wide open. His phone was still ringing, so she dug her elbow into his side, waking him with a start.

He snorted, sitting up and giving his head a little shake, blinking rapidly before recognizing the sound. He scrambled for the phone, shoving the handset against his ear and wiping a hand over his face. "Yeah, Stiles."

Lydia slid all the way to the other side of the couch, refusing to look at Stiles as she listened to him take the call. This was getting ridiculous. It was bad enough that she dreamed about him while she was alone, in her own bed, but on the couch? When he was right there?

She stood up abruptly, clearing their empty noodle cartons away and ignoring the way her stomach was twisting with humiliation. If Stiles knew what he was like in her dreams, what she let him do to her sometimes...well, she'd never live it down, that was for sure. He'd probably never speak to her again, except to laugh in her face. Anyone would think she hadn't gotten laid in years, the way her subconscious was screwing her over right now.

She took the boxes into the kitchen, emptying them in the trash can, and took a long swig out of her water bottle. That's all it was. Her subconscious was just trying to tell her to get some action, and the fact that Stiles was always with her was the only reason he was the one undressing her and touching her and grinding himself against her...

She swallowed dryly, putting her hands over her hot cheeks. Yeah, she had a problem.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks. Okay, bye." Stiles hung up as he entered the kitchen, slipping his phone into his back pocket. Lydia plastered the best smile she could muster on her face.

"Who was that?"

"The coroner. She swabbed our John Doe's mouth and sent it off for analysis before we attended the autopsy, and the results just came back. There was human DNA in his mouth, from someone else."

Lydia rested one hand on the counter, her smile falling off. "So...he bit someone?"

"Or he ate someone."

They were silent, staring at each other. "This case is fucked," Lydia said eventually. She checked her watch. 19:43. "We shouldn't have fallen asleep."

Stiles nodded. "I know. But I have an idea."

He was looking at her with an apologetic expression, and she recognized that look. "Does this idea involve my banshee intuition by any chance?"

"A little," he said, looking up at her through the loose strands of hair that had fallen over his forehead. He stepped closer to her, and she resisted the urge to step back. "They're never going to find the body unless we help. And when I say help, I mean-"

"My kind of help, I get it," she interrupted, pursing her lips. "We're going to the woods, aren't we?"

He placed his hands on her shoulders, offering her a supportive smile. "Only if you're up for it Martin."

She shrugged out of his grip, wanting to be far away from those hands right now. And those eyes. And that mouth...

"Alright, Stilinski. I'll get my coat."