title: defender
summary: when she starts dreaming of werewolves and red eyes, lexi hannigan – and her best friend lydia, too – thinks she's going insane. but with the recent animal attacks and her unfortunate habit of slipping into the geeky crowd, she's got a whole lot more cut out for her than insanity.


Lydia's party was, as always, something of brilliance.

I knew this because we'd spent weeks pouring over plans together, deciding just where to hang the fairy lights - over the pool, we'd settled on - and what drinks to serve, who we should invite. Lydia had strived for perfection since we were kids, back when she'd totter around in her mommy's heels, me in tow with pearls around my neck and lipstick smeared on my cheeks. It was just a part of who she was, and, over time, had become a part of who I was.

Allison had called at the last minute to say she'd managed to worm out of family night, which I was pretty sure meant she'd scored a hot date and was ready to face her new friends' chaotic party. I had the distinct feeling the dimpled brunette would come to regret that decision, though I didn't say anything. This was, after all, our - me and Lydia's - time to shine, and show that the Argent really wasn't missing anything, coming to Beacon Hills.

The party was in full swing, and Lydia had disappeared somewhere with Jackson the Jackass hours ago, leaving me to my own devices. That is, bored out of my mind. I hadn't found Allison despite my efforts, and was left to drinking myself into a stupor in an effort to relieve my boredom. It didn't help, though it did make the room spin interestingly every so often.

Red cup in my hand - I noticed the beer slosh over the sides and onto my dress whenever I took a particularly heavy step - and eyes near closed, I half-stumbled towards the hot-tub, leaning against the side and groaning. I felt like shit. I felt worse than shit; I felt like shit that had been stepped in and walked halfway across America.

I'd had way too much, if you couldn't tell.

I put the cup down on the edge beside me, but felt it more than saw it when it tipped over and leaked onto my hand. I groaned again.

This sucked.

Lydia was a bitch for leaving me here to drink myself to death.

Such a total bitch with an annoyingly hot boyfriend and an annoyingly cute dog.

A dog that was currently lapping up the beer puddle at my feet.

I groaned a third time, clumsily sitting on the ground and running a hand through Prada's fur as I buried my face into my free palm. The music made my head pound, and the world around me twirled on its axis.

"Hey, woah, are- are you okay?" The voice made it worse, and I waved the hand that had been stroking Prada at it irritably, murmuring something along the lines of 'fuck off'. "Do- do you need, like... help, or something?"

And that was the last straw. The nasuea became too much, and I pulled my face away from my hand - which was much harder than it should have been - and leaned over to the side to throw up on someone's shoes. "Oh, that's gross. Oh god- you- yeah, you need help. Help. Uh."

"Shut up." I ground out, wiping the vomit from my mouth with the back of my hand, before attempting to look up at him. My head felt heavy, weighted, like someone had stuffed lead in through my ears and replaced my brain with it.

It took a while, but finally my head straightened out and the world stopped spinning long enough for me to identify the speaker as the kid who had a crush on Lydia; that twitchy one, whatever his name was. I glared at him weakly, but I could feel myself swaying and see the way he was more concerned than intimidated.

Up close, he was a little cuter, in a dorky, geeky sorta way. I caught sight of a pair of amber eyes before his features blurred again and I felt the burn of puke in my throat. I leaned away from him clumsily, letting it out on the ground beside me.

Oh, Lydia was gonna kill me.

Good, a voice in the back of my head said, it's her fucking fault anyway.

"Shut up." I murmured again, this time quieter, and I didn't know if it was directed at the voice or the boy, who was talking again.

"- Uh, you- you need to get a bucket. And home. Or into a- a bed, or something, like... a couch. Does Lydia have a couch, Lexi?"

I frowned, focusing only on his use of my name. That wasn't fair! How come he got to know my name but I didn't know his?

"Because you're Lexi Hannigan, I'm pretty sure that's how it works." He said, and I realised I'd said it out loud. I frowned at his vague shape, before closing my eyes. The light made my head hurt too much.

"Slightly creepy, that. What's- what's your name, then?"

"My-my name?" He sounded almost like he didn't believe he'd heard it right. I scowled irritably, swatting at what I hoped was his shoulder. The contact seemed to remind him to continue, and he replied, "Stiles. Stiles Stilinski? We've been in the same class since kindergarten?"

I frowned. Stiles? What a weird name. "No clue."

I heard him sigh, and then he said, "Lexi, where're- where're the bedrooms, or like, the living room, or anywhere you can lie down?"

I giggled. "Are- Are you trying to get me into bed, Stiles? Not very gentlemanly of you."

There were a few beats of silence, before he stuttered, "W-what?! No! No, I wouldn't- I mean, not that you aren't- But no! I-" I cut him off with a snort of laughter, head lolling to the side as I moved with the force of my mirth.

"You- You're funny, Stilinski. Um. There's- Lydia's room is upstairs. Why?" My question was answered moments later, when I felt arms slip under my knees and back, and the ground fell away. I heard Stiles groan, and I glared at him, which was pretty hard, what with the whole blurry thing and all.

"Are you suggesting I'm fat?" I slurred angrily, and got the impression that he was shaking his head hastiliy, though he didn't say anything. I leaned my head against his shoulder, which was pretty damn warm, and let my eyes fall shut again. I was exhausted.

His footsteps were soothing, and soon I felt myself drifting off to sleep.

I didn't dream of howling, nor did I dream of red eyes.

That doesn't mean my dreams were peaceful.


I awoke to the sunlight streaming down on my face, and I pounding headache. My every cell felt like they had been run over by a freight train, and my stomach rolled in disgust. I could taste my morning breath, but I didn't feel stable enough to get up and brush my teeth.

After a while of lying there, face buried in my pillow, I rolled onto my back with a grunt, blinking up at a ceiling that wasn't mine.

What the...?

In a rush of memory, last night came flooding back to me, and I groaned. God, what had I done? What-

My thoughts were interrupted by the door to Lydia's room slamming open, where the she-devil herself stood.

Though she looked as exhausted as I felt, she somehow pulled it off prettier; her copper-coloured hair was pulled up into a messy bun, and she'd made the effort to put on make-up, at least, though she was clothed in sweats.

She glared at me angrily, and I glared right back. I was still pissed at her for abandoning me for her jerk-off boyfriend.

After a few moments of glaring, my will crumbled, and I sighed. "Whatever it is, I'm sorry." I felt like shit anyway, and I didn't need to add a fight with my best friend to my growing list of problems.

Lydia didn't look convinced, but after a few beats of silence, she sighed and dropped down onto the bed beside me. "You took my bed."

I rolled my eyes. "No, I didn't. I passed out on your bed."

She mimicked me, shaking her head, before replying carelessly, "Potato, potahto. Look, whatever. I feel like shit warmed up, and you look it," I didn't take that bit to heart. "so can we just watch movies all day and sleep?"

And we did exactly that. Between Buffy the Vampire Slayer marathons, - a guilty pleasure neither of us would ever admit to - a couple of episodes of America's Next Top Model and an hour of Inception - until Lydia had gotten bored and frustrated with the plot - we managed to squeeze in a few hours of sleep, until we felt somewhat human again.

Lydia's mom, Eleanor, had called my dad with pursed lips when we'd stumbled downstairs that morning, and I was sure to receive a stern lecture when I finally got home. I put it off as long as possible, even helping Lydia clean up the house, until I could delay it no longer.

The moment I walked in the door, I was greeted by the stern looks of my dads. Dad stood against the stair railing, arms crossed, and Papa was sat on the stairs, leaning back against the one behind him. Neither of them looked happy, and I baulked.

"Uhm. Hi?"

Papa raised an eyebrow at me, before saying, "How was your night, Alexia?"

I winced. Full name, ouch. Going for casual, I shrugged my shoulders, but the movement felt robotic. "It was alright. Pretty boring, actually."

Dad gave me a look. "That's not how we hear it."

And thus began the torture of parental punishment.


notes: ugh, i am so sorry for the wait. writer's block, you know how it is. (don't kill me pretty please)
on another note, what did you think of lexi and stiles' first conversation? i felt like i got him entirely wrong, so any comments or reviews would help.

reviews:

Terans-DinosaurCostume: you cutie patootie, just sit your butt down. hugs are good, though. hugs all around. ugh, i mean it when i say your reviews make me so fuzzy and things. just fongondpfin you say the nicest things! thank you for the review m'love.

X23 Maximoff: ugh, i know exactly what you mean with the slow-building romances. but i hope their slight little bit of conversation and lexi's thoughts might maybe heal your soul a little? thanks for the review, sweetie!