Chapter 7 – Eichen House

"This plan is stupid."

Scott just barely refrained from pinching his nose. "It's your plan!"

"I'm aware," Lydia deadpanned. "I'm just saying, it's stupid. Peter's not going to listen to me – we'd be better off sending in Malia. Or you."

"Lydia, if you don't want to do this…"

The offer faded on his lips as the banshee shook her head. "No, it's okay," she assured him. "We have to do this. It's just…a lot of bad memories, you know?"

"I know." And he did. Peter had used Lydia for months. Invading her dreams, controlling her movements… and the worst part was that Scott didn't even have to ask what that was like. He still sometimes woke in a cold sweat at the memory of Peter's voice filling his head, overwhelming his instincts, seizing control over Scott before they'd even met.

So, the idea of confronting Peter was more than enough to make Scott tetchy, but of course it had to involve freaking Eichen House as well. Scott hated the place ever since he watched his best friend walk inside in a desperate attempt to protect everyone from himself. He never had to see what Lydia went through in there, and he never asked – seeing Stiles carry her out of the labyrinth, pale and bloody with a torn expression that he hadn't seen since Allison…well. The words died on his tongue every time he tried to bring it up. She confided in Stiles, though, clinging to him for comfort as she readjusted to the outside world, so he told himself that there was no reason to make her relive it just for him.

Looking at her now, he wondered if that was a mistake. Her expression was fierce, but her arms trembled at her side and the acrid scent of fear filled his nose, and Scott had absolutely no idea what to say.

Maybe we should just call this off, he thought for the millionth time.

"I'll be right outside the barrier," he promised instead, hoping the words were more reassuring than they sounded. "And if you need to come back out – just come, okay. We'll figure something else out."

The banshee nodded, paler than ever in the fluorescent street light, and Scott anxiously chewed his lip.

God, he hated this plan.

He was about to say as much – as though maybe this time an alternative would appear magically out of thin air – when the rumble of a car engine interrupted the silence and he turned to see headlights approaching from his left.

Frowning, he stepped closer into the shadows, pulling Lydia with him, and squinted at the vehicle as it approached. He couldn't see past the glare, but it didn't matter since the car parked mere feet away, the headlights fading as the engine cut out.

A door cracked open, and Scott's jaw dropped. "Sheriff? What are you doing here?"

The Sheriff's face was thinner than he remembered, but his stride was long and his hand steady as he clapped Scott on the shoulder.

"Malia paid me a visit this afternoon. She filled me in on the plan."

Of course she did.

Scott squared his shoulders, argument ready on his tongue even as he craned his head to look the taller man in the eyes.

Lydia cut him off before he got the chance. "It's our best chance at finding Stiles," she implored. "And Malia and Liam are already inside. Please don't try to stop us."

Noah's lips tightened with worry. "You're the only one who can physically get to Peter, right? Malia said something about a mountain ash barrier."

"That's right," Scott confirmed warily. "I'll get Lydia as far in as I can, but she'll have to do the last bit by herself."

Noah closed his eyes briefly, frustration etched across his face. "You kids, I swear to god," he muttered.

When he opened his eyes again, he levelled Scott with a disapproving look. "I know you've been through a lot," he said, flatly, "but you have adults on your side now – so use us. I'll go with Lydia. Once we're in, you just focus on getting Malia and Liam out of this hellhole. I don't trust this place, especially with you kids, and I don't want you in there any longer than necessary."

"Yessir." Scott winced, guiltily. If he was honest, it hadn't even occurred to him to ask the Sheriff for help. Which, now that he thought about it, was an old habit that should have died the minute Stiles landed himself in trouble. The Sheriff had more right to be there than anyone.

"Thank you," Lydia breathed, her shoulders finally releasing from where they were bunched around her ears. "That really helps."

Noah nodded once, his fingers brushing over his holster in a well-practiced movement. "That's what I'm here for."

Then Scott's phone buzzed, and all his apprehension flooded back in an instant. He glanced at Lydia, who met his gaze with wide eyes, then back at the Sheriff.

"That's the signal?"

Scott nodded, voiceless, and Noah shifted his weight, face instantly set with determination. "Lead the way."

Scott didn't waste any time. He jumped, clearing the fence in a single leap, then turned back to the gate. It took only a fraction of his strength to snap the padlock clean in two.

"Hurry," he whispered, opening the gate a few feet while the others slipped through. Then he resumed his place in front, wending a path through the immaculately-maintained garden. He stuck to the shadows, relying on the glow of the institution's windows to keep an eye out for security, but he needn't have worried. The grounds were deserted.

The back of the premises was separated from the front by an eight-foot tall concrete wall lit by a floodlight. There was a security camera screwed into the nearby brick wall, lens fixed on the barrier, and Scott instantly froze, melting back into the darkness.

The Sheriff followed his eyeline and immediately recognised the problem. He leaned forward to whisper in Scott's ear. "There's just the one. If you hug the edge of the building, you can reach it without being seen. Do you have anything to cover the lens?"

Scott brought out a roll of duct tape from his jacket pocket – scrounged from the junk drawer in his garage – and the Sheriff nodded approvingly.

He moved as swiftly as he dared, careful to stay out of the light, and within seconds found himself positioned directly below the camera. He tore off a strip of tape, then held his breath as he darted upward, pressing it over the lens in one clean movement.

For a second, he held his breath, waiting for an alarm to sound.

But it didn't, so after a beat he gestured for the other two to join him. "Won't be long before they notice that," he muttered. "We should move quickly."

Prior to the bite, the wall might have posed a problem for Scott, but that was no longer the case. He leaped upward easily to land light-footed on top. Then he stretched a hand down toward the Sheriff, who scrambled up the wall in seconds, and then it was simple enough for the two of them to lift Lydia up before all three dropped silently to the ground on the other side.

The backyard was overgrown, in stark contrast to the front – clearly, it was not meant for visitors. Scott could just make out a wide driveway leading to a loading dock with an industrial-size roller door set into the back wall of the building. And there, right next to it and so much smaller that Scott nearly missed it: the service door that Malia had described.

He crept over to it and rested one hand on the handle. With his other, he drew out his phone and unlocked it, sending a one-word message to Liam.

Now.

Then he waited.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Sev-

Seven seconds, then the building fell into complete darkness, every light extinguishing in unison, the faint hum of the air conditioning units fading into nothing.

Scott tore the handle off the door and shoved it open, subtlety be damned. He threw himself into the building, setting a fast pace and trusting the others to follow. Right, left, right again. There was no hesitation to his movements, the corridors more familiar than he cared them to be, Malia's map ingrained into his mind.

They had entered through the deserted laundry, so it was a full nine corridors before they found the first guards.

There were three of them, clustered together at the end of a hallway, electrified batons hanging from loose grips and tasers from their belts.

Scott gestured for the others to stay put, then whipped around the corner and roared.

The guards' heads jerked upward in unison, their eyes widening in shock as Scott hurtled down the corridor. One of them got hold of his taser and fired off a shot, but not fast enough – Scott dodged, leaping onto the wall with a powerful jump, then used his momentum to propel himself directly at the man, crashing bodily into him and knocking both of them to the floor.

A baton swung down from above, and Scott rolled to the side just in time to see it slam into the floor beside his head. The owner staggered and Scott took advantage of the moment, grabbing his shoulders and flinging him overhead so he landed with a thump somewhere out of sight.

Then something poked into Scott's side, and his world exploded.

Shocks of electricity coursed from the site, setting his nerves on fire. His muscles screamed, spasming painfully as his limbs contorted into unnatural positions, and his jaw locked shut as his head jerked backwards against his will, slamming painfully onto the concrete floor.

Vaguely, he realised that someone was screaming, but he could barely hear it over the sound of his blood rushing through his ears.

Then, as suddenly as it began, it was gone.

A rush of footsteps, and someone was leaning over him, shaking his shoulders. "Scott. Scott, son, you have to breathe."

Breathe. Oh, right. Why wasn't he doing that?"

"Come on, buddy, focus on my voice. In and out."

He made it sound so easy. But, sure, he could try.

He focussed on his ribcage, forcing it to expand.

"That's it. Now relax."

He pursed his lips and blew the air out through his cheeks, then started over. In, out. In, out.

The world re-materialised around him, the Sheriff's worried face coming into view.

"Are you back with us now?" the older man asked, a current of fear threading his words.

"Ugh…yeah." Scott grunted as he pushed himself into a sitting position. He glanced around him – Lydia was hovering anxiously behind the Sheriff, and on his other side were three unmoving guards, crumpled against the door.

Scott blinked, then glanced gratefully at the banshee. "Thanks."

She pressed her lips together in an imitation of a smile.

Noah helped Scott to his feet, frowning when the werewolf swayed for a moment before steadying. "You sure you're okay?" he asked. "It's not like you to be taken down like that."

Scott winced. There was no malice behind the words, but they still stung – mostly because they were true. Scott knew he wasn't firing at full cylinders lately.

But they didn't have time for this.

"I'm fine." Scott stepped closer to the door and cocked his head. There were voices drifting from just beyond the wood - four guards, and maybe a patient. "Wait here."

This time, the guards went down easily. Scott snarled and clawed, using the men's momentum against themselves, twisting and leaping and throwing himself into the fight so thoroughly that he finally managing to silence the voice that had been screaming at him for days: Find Stiles Find Stiles Find Stiles Find Stiles.


Lydia hated everything about these hallways.

She hated the smooth floors. The bland green paint on the walls. The absolute lack of signage that turned the building into a veritable labyrinth. The dreary overhead lighting that was only necessary because they apparently didn't have windows because this place was a fucking prison

No. No time for that - she could have her breakdown later. Someone needed to hold it together, and apparently it wasn't going to be Scott.

Something had changed with him. He had been strained ever since Stiles disappeared – even Liam had noticed, judging by the number of times she had caught him staring at the alpha's back with wide-eyed bafflement – but this was different. He was quiet, completely focussed, taking down every threat with a deadly grace that sent shivers down her spine.

She never thought she'd see the day that she feared Scott McCall.

But, well. Here they were.

Still, Scott's newfound aggression was remarkably efficient, so it was less than ten minutes after entering the building that they turned a corner and she found herself face-to-face with the gate that marked the mountain ash barrier.

Scott put one clawed hand on her shoulder, crimson eyes boring into her own. "Ready?"

Lydia glanced from him to the Sheriff, who gave her a reassuring nod, and smiled weakly. "Sure."

Scott squeezed her shoulder once, then released her and stepped back. "I'll be here."

Right. All the way back here.

Come on, Lydia. Stop stalling. Gathering her courage, Lydia raised her head and nodded, then reached out and swiped her stolen keycard over the lock. "See you in a bit," she promised, before pushing open the gate and slipping inside, the Sheriff at her shoulder.

They turned one corner, and another, and then there was only one door left.

The Sheriff pulled out his gun and blasted the lock, and Lydia strode in with her head held high.


He was watching her.

His blue gaze slowly worked its way down her body, sliding over her hair and down her neck, over her chest and down her legs, at which point he methodically licked his lips and leered.

She shivered, suddenly feeling naked and grimy under his stare.

"Well, isn't this a nice surprise," Peter drawled. He stepped forward so he was standing just behind the glass door of his cell. "I wish you'd told me you were coming, I would have prepared a welcome."

There were heavy footsteps as the Sheriff entered the room, and Lydia's chest eased as he took his spot at her shoulder.

Peter seemed less happy. He snarled, raising an arm over his head to press a fist to the glass. "Oh. I didn't realise you brought a bodyguard."

"She didn't." The disgust in the Sheriff's voice was palpable, and Lydia glanced up to find his lip curling in an uncharacteristic sneer. "Lydia's more than capable of taking care of herself. I just wanted to be here for this."

"And what is 'this', exactly?"

And – well. That was her cue if she ever heard one.

Lydia stepped forward, hesitant at first, then more confidently, until she was a mere foot away from the man she wished she could leave behind once and for good. "What do you know about fairies?"

There was a strange thrill in being able to take Peter by surprise. She couldn't help but smirk as his jaw dropped inelegantly at the words.

It only lasted for a second, before he smoothed his expression back to his usual omniscient façade.

"Why do I get the feeling there's a story behind this?" Peter remarked. "It's awfully dull around here, you know. And I have nowhere to be."

She nearly ground her teeth in frustration, catching herself at the last second. "I'm not here to play games," Lydia bit out instead, narrowing her eyes. "Can you help or not?"

Peter's eyes widened, curious. "Well, this is new. You lot are normally all about the talking - the incessant plans, the endless debates about grey morality, the constant teetering back and forth to avoid ever making a decision. What changed?"

Lydia stared silently in reply, and Peter's gaze shifted to the Sheriff.

Something must have clicked. The werewolf whipped his head back to her, delight lighting his eyes, a lopsided grin twisting his features. "Tell me: where is Stiles, anyway?"

Lydia's breath caught, a sharp pain stabbing her heart.

Peter laughed. "Oh, what a terrible turn of events," he mocked. "The boy's wounded then? Missing? Dead? Tell me when I've hit gold."

"Shut up." The Sheriff's voice was hoarse with fury. He pushed himself forward, arms stiff by his side and glared holes through the glass. "Here's how this is going down. We're going to tell you what happened, then you're going to tell us how to find him. If you're helpful, maybe I'll make life a little cosier for you in here. If not, Argent has a few suggestions for your new roommate."

"I have a better idea," Peter tutted, unperturbed. He drew himself upright, stepping sideways so that he was looking the Sheriff directly in the eye. "You get me out of here, and I'll help you. Take it or leave it."

"Leave it," Lydia replied instantly. "You don't even know if you can help yet."

"True. But that's a chance you're going to have to take, isn't it? After all, you must be desperate to come to me, of all people."

The air drained from her lungs in a heartbeat – because, that was the crux of it, wasn't it? They were desperate. Peter held all the cards, and he knew it.

She turned a pleading gaze to the Sheriff, who was already shaking his head. "Lydia, we can't –"

The rest of his sentence was cut off by a blaring alarm. Overhead, the fluorescent lights suddenly blazed to life.

The power was back on.

"No, no, no!" Lydia cried out, mostly to herself. "It's too soon!"

Her gaze whipped from the Sheriff to Peter to the lights and back to the Sheriff, who was sickly pale beneath the lighting.

His hand was shaky as he reached out to grasp her shoulder. "We'll figure something else out," he muttered, although what they could figure out Lydia had no idea. They had been trying to figure something else out. They hadn't had any luck.

She stumbled backward under his grip, barely able to think over the shriek of the alarm and the sound of her heart shattering in her chest.

Then she heard it.

"Lydia." It was Peter's voice, only somehow a thousand times less oily. "Please."

She halted. Turned, and found a man who had aged ten years in five seconds. His face was lined, haggard, his eyes dull and broken. His smarmy expression was gone, replaced a by a look of pure desperation. The fist that had been pressed against the wall was splayed out, his fingers trembling against the glass.

"Please," he begged again. "I'll help, I promise."

The Sheriff tightened his grip, warningly. "We need to go."

Lydia bit her lip. She glanced once at the Sheriff, then back at Peter.

Then she shrugged out of his grasp and took a step back toward the cell. The werewolf stood back too, pressing himself against the far corner and lifting his hands to his ears, a glimmer of hope lighting his eyes.

God, she hoped she wasn't making a mistake.

Lydia drew in a deep breath, and screamed.


A/N: Peter is super-fun to write, fyi.

Thanks again for reading and reviewing guys! xx