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"You can't leave me! You can't! I'm not ready." His voice was shaking. But his everything was shaking, why shouldn't his voice?

"You won't be alone. You're never alone. You can do it. You're strong."

"No I can't." Stiles fell to his knees. "Don't go. Please," he choked out. "Stay."

"I'm sorry, son..." The hand that was holding his slowly slipped from his grasp.

Stiles sat bolt up right in bed and gave a horrified cry, shaking and twisting in his sheets, trying to get away from whatever was holding him. "No! No! Don't! You can't go! Come back!" His screams were choked and constricted by sobs.

The door opened and his father barreled in, sliding easily into bed with him and wrapping his arms around him. Stiles grabbed his father's arms and gave another sob, this one more out of relief. His parent. He'd lost one of the but he had one. He wasn't alone.

"I know," whispered his father. "I have you. I have you."

"It's not fair," Stiles choked out after a few minutes. "It's not fair."

"I know..."

Stiles leaned into his father and closed his eyes. They stayed like that until his breathing was slower, more even. Then his father slowly moved his arms. Stiles felt panicked tears prick his eyes again. Don't go, he wanted to say. But instead he croaked out, "Goodnight..."

Sheriff ruffled his hair before going to the door. "Go ahead and let Lydia in now." He gave his son a wink before slipping out the door. Stiles barely had time to turn to the window before Lydia slid inside.

He got to his feet and the moment her arms slid around him, he did something he had sworn he wouldn't do with her. He started crying. She held him without asking any questions. She didn't have to.

They'd been comforting each other after nightmares for about a month now. They pretty much had a routine but, this time, it was different.

Lydia stayed.

The first thing Stiles felt in the morning was complete confusion. There was beautiful, strawberry blonde hair on his pillow. That hair was not his for sure. The first thought that jumped to his head was impossible, completely impossible. Because she was gone. She'd been taken away from him.

She stirred in her sleep and it suddenly clicked. Lydia. Was she really here? He slowly reached out, his knuckles drifting across her shoulder. She stirred and he froze, hand still touching her skin just barely. She was here, and she was real.

"Stiles," she murmured in her sleep. He stared at her, feeling a soft smile weave its way onto his face.

Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled himself out of bed and crept out the door. The minute that he rounded into the kitchen, his dad said, "So, she stayed the night."

Stiles jumped and took a deep breath. "That wasn't frightening at all, thanks dad. Hey, I've got an idea. Always sit in dark rooms and talk when I walk in."

Sheriff chuckled and took a drink of his coffee. "She stayed."

"She stayed," Stiles repeated. "We didn't do anything."

"I know."

Stiles thought about this for a minute. "That almost insults me."

His father laughed a little and shook his head. "Does she help you?'

"Yeah..." Stiles said slowly. "She does. She makes me feel okay. And I think I can help her too."

"Then I have something for you." His dad slid a folded paper across the table to him. Stiles eyed him for a moment and then unfolded it. There, on the paper, were plans to build a tree house. "Your mom would have loved it. It's simple plans but we could probably have it done in no time."

Stiles stared at the paper before turning his eyes to his dad. "I don't... You'd help us do this?"

"Stiles..." His dad ran his fingers through his hair. "She is finally bringing you some peace. If by some miracle she can get it so that you can sleep again, it's worth a shot. Besides, you need this. You need a safe place. This can be it."

Stiles nodded his head slowly, trying to wrap his head around it. "Thank you."

"Stiles, listen. I want to talk to you about, well, you know."

Stiles froze, his eyes frozen on the paper. He gripped it tightly, crumpling it slightly. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I know. But you can't run from this, Stiles."

"Watch me." The words were out before he could stop them. He closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath. "I'm sorry. I just- I'm going to talk to Lyds, show her the plans." He turned and jogged up the stairs. Before going in his room, he rested his hand on the door and gently rested his forehead against the back of his hand. "Please," he whispered, not quite sure who he was talking to, "help me."

Slowly, he turned the knob and slipped back in the room. Lydia was still asleep in the bed. She looked so peaceful that it was hard to connect her with the girl he'd found screaming in her bed two nights ago. She'd thrashed and sobbed in his arms, begging for someone not to go, not to leave. She said "I'm sorry" about ten times before finally coming around and realizing that she was in her bed, safe with Stiles. Then she'd sobbed on him for close to a half an hour. He'd been surprised to go in there and find that her parents weren't in her room already. They didn't come in while he was there either. She told him later that they were out and sometimes they slept through anyway.

Slowly, Stiles lay back down beside her and stared at the ceiling, paper lying on his chest. He should be talking to his dad about this. They should be doing this together, not alone. But was Stiles really doing this at all? When he was awake he didn't let himself think about it, or deal with it. Scott was trying to get it out of him but there was only so much he could do.

I'm failing. I'm sorry, Mom.

"Stiles?"

He turned his head so he could see Lydia and let a small smile slide onto his face. "Hey..."

"How'd you sleep?"

"Pretty well... What about you?"

"About the same..." Lydia sighed softly and looked at the paper on his chest. Her brow furrowed. "What is that?"

He smiled and held it out. "Take a look." She took the paper and unfolded it, her eyes scanning it. He watched her mouth fall into a perfect "o" shape and look up at him. "What do you think?"

"It looks great," she said quietly. "I'd like to do this."

"My dad thinks we could get it done really quickly," Stiles said, smiling at her. "He'll help us. And then if we need a safe place to land after a nightmare we can just... meet there."

She smiled at him and it nearly made his heart stop. Because it was 100% real, 100% happy. The ghost that usually haunted her wasn't there in that moment. She looked at him and all that he could see was honest excitement, honest happiness. He wanted to protect her, to help her keep that. It was all that mattered to him.

"So, when's the wedding?"

"Shut up." Stiles rolled his eyes and pushed the cart around the corner. "Being with her just makes it easier."

"Have you told her?" Scott grabbed the cart out of his hands and backed it up to the wood that Stiles had passed and needed.

"Told her what?" Stiles pulled out a plank, hoping it could just slide by.

"You know what. What you're dealing with."

"No. She hasn't told me anything yet either. I don't want to burden her."

"Stiles..." Scott shook his head. "Someone has to open the door here. She needs to talk to someone and, whether you think so or not, so do you. You're dealing with some real shit. You need to talk about it. You haven't even said it out loud."

"I have said it out loud." Stiles continued to pile wood.

Scott shook his head. "The only reason I know is I was there with you. You haven't said it."

Stiles sighed and looked up. "So? Is there a handbook for dealing with shit that says you have to announce it?"

"No," Scott said quietly. "But you should. It's good for you."

"No it's not. Scott, I don't want to say it. If I say it, it's real. I don't have to believe it yet. I'll deal with it. Just not now, okay? Just let me have this."

"But you don't have this. Stiles, these nightmares? These aren't healthy."

Stiles held up another piece of wood. "That's why I have this."

Scott bit his lower to lip to stop himself from arguing and instead sighed. He grabbed some wood off of the shelf. "Then let's get building."

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