Thank you all so much for that reaction last chapter; that's the kind of response I'd love to see every update. Sorry for the slow update this time; personal life got in the way and such. But I should be back now (although for future reference if I'm ever away randomly, check out my profile for information because that's where I'll put details of any absences and things like that). So here's the next chapter. And, because I'm a shameless self-promoter, a reminder that I have a recent one-shot ('arcane'), as well as 'break' (in the works) and just today I started an AU Stiles-centric story with dashes of non-romantic Sciles and romantic Sterek. So keep an eye out if you like my writing, because there will be more of it. And I love love love reviews, especially nice ones (and especially now because I'm in a kind of shaky place), so please don't be shy. And now, here's the next chapter.

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Then.

Mondays are never good, but what makes this Monday particularly horrible for Lydia is that all day long she's had a buzzing in her ears. It's vaguely reminiscent of the sound she'd had leading up to the incident with Barrow, but that hadn't been the buzzing of flies as she'd first suspected – it had been fluorescent lights. That's not what it is this time; it's definitely flies. The problem is that she can't see any flies, and from the strange looks her classmates are giving her, she can tell that they can't hear the flies. Which means it's in her head, so she's either going crazy or accidentally tapping into her banshee powers. Again.

In all honesty, she kind of hopes it's the former. A mental breakdown would be a lot easier to deal with than finding yet another dead body, or being kidnapped by another dark druid, or being manipulated into helping a former alpha resurrect himself. So far her banshee powers have given her nothing but trouble, so she would like to stay out of tune with them as much as possible.

Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to be possible at all. When class finishes for the day she's the first out the door, a pile of textbooks in her hands and a scream building in her throat. But it's not the kind of scream that precedes a death. It's the kind of scream that comes from being utterly frustrated with her situation, and unable to come up with a single solution her problem. She doesn't know any other banshees, or even anyone who knows anything about banshees, and for the first time in her life she can't get what she needs from books. She doesn't need knowledge – she needs answers. But she can't even formulate the questions.

By the time she reaches her locker, the buzzing has become so loud that she can almost imagine there are actually flies. She shoves her books in her locker and brushes her arms, but there aren't any flies there. The noise keeps getting louder until she feels like her head is about to explode, and before she knows what she's doing she's turned and all but fled down the hall.

She bursts through the double doors and out into fresh air, taking deep gulps and trying to muffle the noise in her mind. She's never been able to quieten it before – normally it only ends when someone dies, or when the mystery is solved, or when Scott races off to save the day. So if she's hearing things again, it must mean she has a role to play. It would just be a lot easier to play it if she could think straight.

Lydia stumbles to a stop outside the gym, leaning against the wall and covering her hands with her ears. This doesn't help at all; it just makes everything louder, like it's trapping the buzzing inside her head. When she moves her hands the buzzing quietens, like it's dissipating, but it's still too loud. She can't remember the last time it was this loud, and she doesn't know how she's supposed to deal with it.

"Lydia?" The voice breaks through the buzzing, but it doesn't silence it. "Lydia, are you okay?"

With an effort she manages to focus on the person in front of her – Scott. Of course it's him. She's part of his pack – undoubtedly the most unorthodox pack in the history of lycanthropy – and he always seems to know when one of them is upset. "I'm fine," she says, not putting much into trying to convince him of the fact. No matter how convincing she sounds, he's not going to buy it.

He narrows his eyes and she looks away, feeling suddenly like she disappointed him somehow. "Are you sure? You haven't been… I mean things have been okay, right?"

"Define 'okay'," she says, embarrassed to hear how shaky her voice sounds. For a moment she pines for the old Lydia, the one who waltzed through life with an insincere smile and a well-timed insult. But that girl is gone, and for the most part Lydia is glad about that. Helping Scott and the others feels good; she just wishes it was enough to counter the buzzing and the whispers and all the other banshee nonsense she has to put up with.

Scott's eyes widen now, his face a picture of sympathy. He knows she's not okay, and she feels bad for trying to hide it, no matter how half-hearted the attempt. "What's going on?" he asks, his voice low in case any passersby should overhear what will no doubt turn into yet another discussion about the supernatural.

"The buzzing is back," she confesses quietly.

Scott stiffens. "Like the buzzing you were hearing when Barrow was here?"

She nods. "Not exactly like it, but… close enough."

Before Scott can answer, his phone goes off. Lydia signals to him to get it, and switches her attention to a group of lacrosse players practicing on the field. It's off-season, but some of the boys take the game very seriously. Scott and Stiles, on the other hand, spend their off-season saving innocent people and hunting down monsters.

When Scott looks back up at her, his face is paler than usual. "It's Allison," he says, as if that's enough of an explanation. "It's important – she says she found something about the rising evil that Deaton warned us about. She wants to meet me."

Lydia waves her hand, trying to appear airy. "Go."

Scott hesitates. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"I'll be fine," she says, and this time she does put effort into making it sound convincing – and it looks like Scott almost buys it.

"Do you want to come with us?" he asks.

The question makes Lydia's breath hitch in her throat. She'd been the last to know about the supernatural, the last to join the pack, and she's used to being on the outside now. It's not often that she's invited to meetings like this, and she appreciates the effort Scott is going to in order to make her feel welcome. But in the state she's in, she feels like she'll be more hindrance than help. "Thanks, but I can't. You guys go ahead."

"Are you sure?" Scott asks again, and she nods, not considering whether or not it's true. After giving her one more concerned look and a promise that he'll fill her in as soon as they know something, he dashes off.

Lydia lets out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, watching until Scott is out of sight. Then she turns to leave, only to run into something solid. Startled, she stumbles back, and then she looks up. Stiles is standing in front of her, his eyebrows almost flying off his forehead and his hands already reaching out to steady her.

"Woah," he says, helping her get her balance. "Where's the fire?"

She brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes, forcing herself not to notice the sparks that shoot across her skin where Stiles is holding her. He seems to notice, though, and quickly withdraws. What she does notice – although it takes her longer than she would like to admit – is that it's quiet. The buzzing has faded; it's not quite gone, but it's not drowning out her thoughts now. Her surprise must show in her face, because Stiles' expression changes from one of surprise to one of concern – almost identical to Scott's, in fact.

"Is everything okay?" he asks.

"It's fine," she says automatically, and then wonders why her first instinct had been to lie. This is Stiles, after all; if there's anyone she should be able to be honest with, it's him. "Not great," she adds, giving him a window, "but fine."

Stiles considers her, his gaze sweeping up and down her body in a way that makes her shiver – and she's not sure it's entirely in a good way. "Come on. I know a way to cheer you up."

Slightly reluctantly, she takes the hand he's holding out to her and allows him to lead her toward the field. They skirt around it, the only sounds the occasional shouts and grunts of the lacrosse players. A couple of them wave as they walk past, but most are too absorbed in their practice game. As they reach the other side of the field, the game stops, but Stiles doesn't look back, even when Danny calls his name. He just keeps walking, his hand tightening around Lydia's, leading her toward the chem labs.

"Hey," she says, starting to feel uneasy, "shouldn't you go back and talk to Danny? He was calling you."

"I know," Stiles says dismissively, flicking through his keyring until he finds an old silver one, which he holds tight as he leads the way into the building. She's about to ask what the key is for, but her question is answered before she gets a chance. The old silver key is for the chem lab, into which Stiles is now taking her. When he closes the door behind them, Lydia's anxiety increases, but she forces it away. This is Stiles. He's never been, nor will he ever be, dangerous. She's just hyper-alert because of the latest drama with Barrow, and because of her apparently growing banshee powers.

"So, what are we doing here?" she asks, hoisting herself up onto the nearest bench and swinging her legs back and forth.

Stiles grins, moving toward her. Before she can quite work out what's happening, he's right in front of her and their lips are meeting, and she's too shocked to pull away. And when the shock wears off, she realizes that she doesn't want to pull away. She's kissing Stiles – again – and it feels good. She leans into it, but just when it feels like her heart might explode from happiness, he breaks the kiss and steps back.

"Feeling better yet?" he asks, raising an eyebrow and folding his arms.

She's about to say that yes, she is feeling better, but something stops her. Something isn't quite right, and it's even more worrying that she can't pinpoint exactly what it is. Stiles is more bold than usual, sure, but he's still Stiles. He's –

- still. That's what's wrong. Stiles is always moving, fidgeting or bouncing or talking, but at the moment he seems calm, collected, totally in control. Totally unlike Stiles. He unfolds his arms and approaches her, and even that is worrying – his movements are too controlled, too careful. He's not acting like himself, and in Beacon Hills that's definitely cause for concern. And not just for him – for her. She's sure something's wrong now, but she doesn't know what – or if it's safe to talk to Stiles about it. There's something in his eyes, a kind of darkness that's surely never been there before, and her unease turns into the first hints of fear.

"What's wrong?" he inquires, even his voice carefully controlled. There's none of the edginess, the nervous energy, that characterizes the Stiles they all know and love.

"I was about to ask you the same question," she says, and that stops him in his tracks. He knows he's been made.

The clock on the wall at the back of the lab counts the seconds as they face each other, sizing each other up, deciding on a course of action.

Then the door flies open and decisions become irrelevant – it's all instinct. Lydia jumps to her feet, but she can't quite bring herself to back away. Stiles' gaze shifts to someone behind her, and she turns to see Allison and Scott in the doorway. She starts to tell them that something is wrong, but before she can, Allison slowly raises her crossbow and points it at Stiles. Something is seriously wrong now.

"Allison," she says in disbelief. "What are you doing?"

"Lydia, come back here," Scott says evenly, not taking his eyes off Stiles.

She glances from Scott to Stiles and back again, and then goes to stand with the alpha and the hunter. Stiles doesn't seem surprised, nor is he shocked by the fact that Allison is pointing an arrow at his chest.

"We know what you are," Allison almost growls, one hand still wrapped around the crossbow and the other one holding onto Lydia's, as much to protect her as to comfort her.

"And we're not going to let you do this," Scott adds, and Lydia's gaze flicks between the three of them as she tries to understand just what the hell is happening here.

"Oh, Scott." Stiles' smile turns into a smirk, one that freezes Lydia's blood. "You really think we're going to have a showdown in the middle of the chem lab?"

Without waiting for a reply Stiles turns around, walks over to the window, and flings it open. Fresh air spills into the room, and the buzzing in Lydia's head doubles its volume.

Stiles turns back to them, a look in his eyes that Lydia has never seen before. It's malice, something she hadn't even realized he was capable of, and it chills her to the bone.

"But when we do have that showdown, you won't wanna miss it," he says. With a wink he adds, "It'll be a riot."

Then he's gone, leaving behind a stunned silence. When Lydia finally forces her muscles to move, she turns to Scott and Allison and asks, "What the hell was that?"

Scott grimaces, eyes still fixed on the window through which Stiles just exited. "That," he says grimly, "was a nogitsune."

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The more you guys review, the quicker I update. Show me some love and I'll see you soon. ;)