Lydia walked, guided by some invisible thread, the way it always went, steered by the distant aura of fate and death.

It was trance-like. She didn't even think about the phone she'd left in her unlocked car, or the fact that she was completely, utterly alone. The pull within her seemed to overcome every other emotion, every shred of rational thought. It was a pull towards the unknown; towards him, sparked by the sight of his empty Jeep and the droplets of blood staining its back seat.

She walked through trees now, along a path she didn't recognise. The sky was cloudless, revealing a fairy grotto of stars and a bright white moon: light for her journey. The trees stretched up and reached out to tug the alleviated pearl back down to Earth, the shadows of their leafy branches dappling the cool light upon the ground. It was eerily beautiful, but it seemed wrong to think such a thing at a time like this.

There was no sound, which was strange. She felt almost as if she'd stepped into the white room at her beach house, into utter silence. The wind had abandoned its play of rustling though the trees. The insects had quit their whispering from beneath the undergrowth. The only noise came from her feet landing upon the path and the short shaken breaths that left her lips.

It was for this reason that the sound of something moving nearby had her shaken from her intense reverie. There came the snap of a dried out branch, the crunch of fallen leaves, and as the sounds drew nearer, Lydia realised with a shot of fear that whatever it was wasn't trying to be quiet. It was coming for her. And it didn't care that she knew.

Lydia came to a sudden stop, turning around, staring into the darkness. Goosebumps rose on her skin. Her heart spiked. She couldn't see it. But it was there. Watching her. And fear sent her limbs rigid.

It was then that the figure revealed itself. Huge. Familiar. Only a few feet away. There was a mask upon its face, a mask of bone. It fingers drew into blade and it's shape was outlined by the moonlight, black and terrifying.

A beserker.

Lydia's breath hitched. She stood, unmoving, simply staring. But when the creature stepped forward, something came awake within her, forcing her feet to move, forcing her to survive.

She turned and ran, her hair splaying across her face, lungs working hard and fast. Though she didn't make it far before she was crashing into something and tumbling backwards across the uneven ground, utterly disorientated. She looked up, and there stood another, looking down at her through sockets of bone, and if it had an expression, it would have told her that she'd lost; that it was over; that she was going to die.

Then, there was darkness.


Stiles was beginning to lose track of time. The world kept going in and out of focus. Every now and then, Kate would shake him awake, though he wasn't aware he'd been sleeping.

His whole body hurt, as if his own blood was the poison causing it. He was beginning to feel hot, almost too hot. He felt his hair sticking to his forehead and a sheen of sweat upon his skin. The disconcerting amount of blood from his wounds caused his jersey and shorts to stick to him, becoming stiffer and more uncomfortable as the blood started to dry. His breaths came ragged and shaken, hurting as the air passed over his parched and broken throat.

A cold hand was placed gently against his forehead; it would have been soothing if it didn't belong to the monster who'd done this to him in the first place. When Kate removed her hand from his overheating skin, a look that almost resembled concern came over her face.

She stared at him, and Stiles could only glance back before a violent cough racked through his body, only hurting his raw throat further.

Then Kate was gone, and to Stiles surprise, she came back with a large glass in her hand. She sat back down and held it out towards him.

"Drink." she said firmly.

Stiles didn't move, just stared at the glass blankly. Kate looked impatient.

"I'm trying to keep you alive." she said. "Drink it."

Stiles swallowed painfully, not sure whether to obey or not. But it didn't take long for his thirst to get the better of him. He leant forward as Kate brought the glass to his lips. He lifted his hands to take it from her, but the wrench of pain in his shoulder had him hissing and hunching over. Water, and it really was only water, spilled from the glass and down his front.

Kate rolled her eyes. After placing a hand upon his good shoulder, she pushed him back up straight. Stiles' body protested, but he was too weak to resist. She kept her hand there when she pressed the glass to his lips again. Stiles didn't make an attempt to move this time.

"Steady." said Kate, gently tilting the glass. Some of the cold liquid filled his mouth and immediately began to sooth his throat. Most poured over his chin and neck and onto the fabric of his clothes. He didn't care. He gulped it down, like liquid heaven.

Less than a minute later, the water was gone. He could only wish for more, though he knew that such a wish would never be granted. He could tell Kate was conflicted towards giving the person responsible for his nieces death anything at all. He was sure she'd rather see him dead. But right now she needed him.

At least Stiles had one thing to be grateful for.

He coughed again, though thankfully due to the water, this time it hurt less.

"They're gonna find me, you know." he said, voice too quiet. He looked at Kate with utter seriousness. "They're gonna find me. And then they're gonna kill you."

Kate tilted her head and lifted her arm to place a gentle hand against Stiles' bloody cheek. Some mock form sympathy was intended by the action.

"Oh sweetie," she said as Stiles felt her thumb stroke across his skin disturbingly. "No one's going to find you. Not unless I find them first."

Stiles really didn't want to know what she meant by that. Anger was swelling within him. Anger for his friends, for himself. The look Kate gave him was infuriating. She smiled, derisive and cruel.

"Your friends are going to do what I've asked. They're going to do it because Scott won't bare to risk the life of his hyperactive little waste of a best friend. And once they do, I'm going to put my gun to your head, and I'm going to pull the trigger. And then you'll be dead. There'll be crying and a funeral and speeches. But one day, and it probably won't even be that far into the future, they'll all forget about you. Daddy will go back to work. Your friends will take their exams and go to their lacrosse games. They'll leave smiling and cheering, and you won't even cross their minds. Not even once. Just like Allison."

Stiles seethed. Rage bloomed within him. He reached up with his working arm and shoved her hand away with all the strength he could conjure.

"You know what?" he spat. "You know nothing. If Allison were alive, she'd wish you'd have killed yourself when you were supposed to. She would hate you with everything she had. She'd probably put an arrow through you herself if it came down to it. She was everything you'll never be, and that's gonna eat you up from the inside out till the day you die. Allison would-"

Stiles was cut off by an impossibly brutal slap to the side of his head. He fell sideways. The world darkened around the edges. Kate grabbed him, tugged him back up, ready to strike again. And Stiles almost wanted her to. Maybe he'd fall unconscious, and then he wouldn't have to feel like this any more. She raised her flat palm, then curled her fingers into a solid fist.

"You have no idea what my family would have done. You have no idea."

Her voice was furious, filled with some mad kind of rage. Stiles closed his eyes and prepared himself for the blow that never came. Kate let go of him when a loud banging noise echoed from the door. It sounded three times. A knock?

Stiles sagged, his anger dissipating when his brain fell synonymous with his body once again. Exhaustion and pain seeped in through every pore.

Kate flexed her fingers, looking like she had to resist beating him to death right there and then. But another bang at the door had her turning, curiosity seeping in to join the fury on her face.

She walked to the door, pulling out a key and unlocking it agonizingly slowly. When she swung it open, Stiles wanted to scream, to break down, to give in.

There stood Lydia. Behind her was a beserker, intimidating as ever. There were trees behind them; Stiles didn't recognise it.

Lydia swayed slightly, and then the creature behind her shoved a clawed hand into her back and she stumbled forward into the room, clutching her forehead, where with a jolt of panic, Stiles saw blood.

Lydia seemed dazed for a second before her blazing eyes met with his.

"Stiles?" she said, tears on her cheeks. She lurched towards him, but then Kate's hand was in her hair, tugging her back. Lydia's hand flew up to grasp at the other woman's with a gasp. She tried desperately to break free, but her efforts were useless.

"Oh look, the cavalry's arrived." said Kate, holding the banshee like it was nothing. She turned her head and gave the creature in the doorway a quick nod, to which it immediately disappeared. Kate kicked the door to and pulled out the gun from her belt, the one Stiles could only associate with a whole lot of pain. She released the safety with a click, simultaneously letting Lydia go and holding the gun up to point the barrel of it straight at her.

"Sit." she said, gesturing with the gun to the point on the sofa beside Stiles. Lydia's hands trembled, though she didn't move. Kate let out a sigh.

"Alright then," she said, and now she moved her arm so the gun was pointing at Stiles. "Your friend here is having a really bad day. And I'm sure you don't want to make it any worse. So sit."

Lydia obeyed almost instantly, as soon as Stiles was threatened instead. Stiles felt her weight shift the cushion beneath him as she sat down next to him. Her arm brushed his own gently. He could tell she was terrified. And he didn't blame her. So was he. He wanted to yell at her, to scream at her for coming. But his lungs wouldn't have allowed it even if he'd tried.

Kate disappeared behind them and Stiles looked at Lydia pleadingly. She didn't return his gaze, simply stared ahead into nothing. Kate came back with a roll of duct tape and her gun securely back beneath her belt.

"Two of you will be harder to keep an eye on. So I best take precautions."

Stiles could have laughed in spite of himself. In his state, he quite obviously wasn't going anywhere. It was almost funny that Kate thought he might. He wondered what he must look like to Lydia. On the verge of death, probably. And he imagined that was the same reason Kate set to securing the banshee first, wrapping the thick silver tape around both her wrists and ankles. She followed suit with Stiles, pulling at his injured shoulder and forcing a pathetic whimper from his lips.

Kate dropped back into her chair then. Her eyes were on Lydia, and the fury was still obvious, burning away behind them.

"Where are your friends?"

Lydia didn't look at the were-jaguar, or anything at all, just continued to gaze into the darkness absently, silently.

"Come on," said Kate, "Speak up. How did you find this place? Did they send you here as a distraction? Are you trying to trick me? What's your purpose?"

Lydia refused to reply. And Stiles knew Kate's patience was non-existent, a fact that was confirmed when she grabbed his leg, the same one she'd buried her claws in earlier. Stiles felt the blunt ends of her fingers pushing into the wounds there. He was too tired to cry out, to move much at all really, but his breath came choked and hitching and he screwed his eyes shut at the pain. Lydia reacted then, her eyes widening in horror.

"I'm a banshee!" she blustered, panic stricken and desperate. "I hear things. I heard Stiles. I came alone. I promise. Just stop!"

Kate's eyebrows lifted and she let go, leaving Stiles trembling. She leant back, looking confused at first; then her face contorted into one of twisted, sickly interest.

"A banshee?" she said. "Well this just got a whole lot more interesting."


Please review review review! I love hearing your ideas of what should happen and all your comments make me happy! I love constructive criticism too! I feel like horrible person writing this. Poor Stiles. But thank you for reading. Keeps me going! I'm gonna try to update quicker. I'm sorry it takes me so long, been awful busy! Thank you!