Stiles and Lydia had been walking for about an hour. They didn't know where they were going, but Lydia used her "intuition" to decide which way they should go to arrive in Beacon Hills.
Stiles' head was spinning with both pain and giddiness because hello. Lydia Martin kissed him.
He didn't want to act too immaturely about it, but the third grader inside of him was jumping for joy. When she first kissed him, he was too overwhelmed with emotion to realize what was happening, but he kissed her back and it felt right. But now as they walked hand in hand down a gravel road sheltered by trees, he was only beginning to process what had happened in the field.
He hoped that Lydia hadn't just acted on the heat of the moment, and that their kiss was real. Passionate. Not just a product of pity due to Stiles' meltdown.
But there was a little voice inside his head that said it was real, and that it would amount to something else. Lydia wasn't the type to hook up with people because she felt bad for them. She may be used to playing hard to get and tempting boys around her, but Stiles knew that Lydia really had to trust someone before she got truly intimate with them.
Damn, maybe he did analyze her every move.
He shook the thought away and brought himself back to the present.
"A few weeks ago, Scott said he was building some creepy underground werewolf cave near the vet's office," Stiles said.
He had said it a million times, as if going over the incredibly exiguous amount of vague information would help them find their way.
Lydia sighed. "Maybe we should just find a payphone. You don't need money to call the cops."
"No!" Stiles yelled, looking down at Lydia. She looked startled, and Stiles immediately took on a softer tone. "I mean, think about it, Lydia. We've been missing for like four days or something. They'll have tons of questions, and I can't just tell them I tripped over a rock."
He gestured to his battered body.
Lydia chewed the inside her lip and looked up at Stiles. "You'll need an explanation anyways, Stiles. How are you going to explain your arms to your dad?"
Stiles wished she hadn't said it, because it sent a brand new wave of pain down his arms and an even stronger wave of worry through his mind. How was he going to explain this?
"Maybe..." Stiles started, thinking as he spoke. "Maybe we could call them, they'd come and get us, and then we could make up a kidnapping story and send them on a wild goose chase for a guy that doesn't exist."
"No, you're right. They'd ask too many questions and we'd never be able to hold up our story. Too many details," Lydia said, her brow furrowed.
It was strange to see Lydia this way. She was disheveled and dirty. She used to be composed of 90% sarcasm and sass, and only 10% genuine human being, but now she spoke to Stiles like she was letting all of those walls down. She wasn't concentrated on appearance or pretense, but only the intelligent, true Lydia that she was. Stiles found that he liked it, but it also scared him a little. He hoped that their experience in werewolf captivity didn't affect Lydia as much as he thought.
"So, what? Find Scott, stay in his new underground palace until I heal and then wear long sleeves for the rest of my life? I can't stay in hiding for that long. I can't do that to my dad," Stiles said, shaking his head.
"I don't know," Lydia whispered, like this was a brand new realization. Lydia knew a lot of things, and so it must have irritated her to be so lost and helpless. She sounded exhausted.
It was like they were walking in circles. The gravel path was never ending, and they heard nothing but the sound of the breeze and chirping birds, which would have been pleasant sounds if their circumstances were any different. Stiles would give anything to hear a car, or any other sound of civilization. He felt dirty and disgusting and his leg was throbbing and the infection that was surely gathering in his arms was starting to make him feel feverish.
He just wanted to go home.
He felt Lydia squeeze his hand and he looked down at her. She gave him a sad half-smile before looking back to the road ahead of her. Stiles had a strange feeling like she could hear everything he was thinking.
Though, to Stiles, Lydia always seemed to have magical powers.
They walked in silence for a little while longer before Stiles' stabbed leg gave out for a second and he stumbled, cursing. He let go of Lydia's hand but managed to grab her arm to steady himself before he fell.
"Are you okay?" Lydia asked, startled. "You're sweating."
Stiles' answer to that question was most definitely no, but he wasn't about to tell Lydia that. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I just need to sleep for like a week and maybe bathe in some ice for a couple days. Oh, and a really good therapist."
Lydia helped him stand back up properly. She looked like she wanted to walk on again, but suddenly a question slipped from Stiles before he could stop it. "Why did she do it?"
Lydia shook her head slowly, uncomprehending. "Who?"
"Jaymie. Why would she just-"
Stiles found he couldn't really finish that sentence, so he mimed stabbing himself in the stomach.
Lydia looked down, frowning. Her voice was soft and defeated once more. "I don't know."
Suddenly, he found himself getting angry. "Seriously though, she had to do it right in front of us? She just decides to come outside and look me right in the eye while she fucking-"
"I don't know why, Stiles!" Lydia screamed. She looked on the verge of tears as she placed a hand on her forehead and turned away from him.
It seemed Lydia wasn't quite able to keep her panic contained any longer. As usual, Stiles knew it would show itself at some point. What didn't he know about the girl? Besides all of her secret talents and abilities that only show themselves at the most convenient of times. He moved towards her, but she put out a hand, telling him to stop.
"Lydia-"
"Why does this happen?" Lydia asked. She let out a sob, and Stiles moved forward this time whether she liked it or not.
She was still covering her face with her hand, but Stiles knew there were tears there. He pulled her to him and kissed the top of her strawberry blonde head.
They swayed there for a long moment not saying anything, and eventually the crying was over and she pulled away looking like she hadn't cried at all.
And they just walked on, holding hands again. Stiles didn't understand their weird, sporadically emotional relationship, but God did he love it.
They were hot, sticky, exhausted, starving and extremely dehydrated when they finally reached town. They both recognized the place. They both knew how to get to the vet's office from here. This was familiar territory, and Lydia almost passed out with relief. They would find Scott and Derek soon. They would find refuge, and Stiles would hopefully get proper treatment.
The only problem was that the vet's office was still an hour's walk away, and they weren't alone this time. People were all around them, and while Lydia could get by as a once-attractive hobo with awful personal hygiene, Stiles would draw concern from onlookers. He was sickly pale and sweating more than the mild weather should cause a person to sweat. Not to mention the bloody bandages on his arms and the even bloodier bandage around his leg. He also still had bruises on his face from the incident before the kidnapping.
Plus, what if they were recognized? If someone from their school saw them and immediately called the cops because no regular human beings should look this exhausted and injured, they would be in deep shit. They couldn't get the cops involved, that was already decided.
If Mr. Stilinski found out...well, they would hopefully be able to convince him to drop the subject, even with the physical and mental state his son would be in when he got home.
For now, they would find Scott and Derek and rest wherever they had made their so-called underground tunnel. When they were somewhat sane and healthy, they would go home.
And, well, they haven't gotten farther than that on their plan. The plan was sketchy, it was stupid, it was-
"This is risky," Stiles said, his voice hoarse from dehydration. They stood in the opening of trees looking out on to a road lined with shops and people. They were partially hidden by the shade of the trees, but they would be clearly visible when they stepped out.
Lydia moved in front of Stiles and motioned her hands upwards. "Come on."
Stiles just stared at her blankly. "What?"
"Take your shirt off, dumbo. We'll tie it around your leg so that way you won't look like you've been beaten to death. You'll only look like a guy with awful fashion sense."
"Lydia, I've got bandages around my chest too. He scratched the shit out of my back as well, remember?"
Lydia put her face in her hands and groaned. "Alright," she said, raising her hands in defeat. "You'll just have to keep behind me and hide as best you can. Blend in. Which means you have to stop limping."
Stiles' mouth fell open, indignant. "You make it sound so easy."
"Do you want to attract attention?"
Stiles was grumbling something about being in extreme pain for an hour, but he was a trooper. He was still able to make sarcastic remarks, and that was a good sign.
Lydia grabbed his arm in a comforting gesture, but she quickly pulled back. "Stiles, you're burning up."
"Forget about it, okay? Let's just keep going," Stiles insisted, trying very hard not to look her in the eyes. He began to walk out of the clearing with a small limp that was obviously causing him pain to hide. Lydia ran to walk in front of him, trying to shield his bloodied figure from the eyes of onlookers.
Her exhaustion left her in a position where she couldn't really analyse her true feelings for Stiles. She knew she had kissed him, and she had liked it, and she didn't regret it at all. She knew what Stiles had been through, and how he did it all to prevent anything happening to Lydia. She knew that when she touched him, she felt a little jolt in her heart because all she could think about was their time lying in the field together, and his hands in her hair. She also knew that this jump from Jackson to Stiles was overwhelming, but in only four days, her and Stiles' relationship had become more profound than anything she had ever experienced with Jackson. Or anyone.
It was the beginning of what was going to be a very long walk.
They had always joked about having an underground lair and becoming a bunch of creepy, cliche fairy tale werewolves.
Well, yeah, they made an underground lair.
After all the events that had happened, Scott and Derek knew that they were running low on safe places to hide. Dr. Deaton had told them that there was a cellar behind the vet's office, but that it was small. That was no problem for the werewolves, because they had punched holes through the walls of the cellar and rebuilt it to fit their personal needs.
It was beautiful, really. They put a couch down there and everything and it was perfectly safe from unwanted supernatural creatures...for now.
Scott was headed to the lair with a crushed feeling inside of him, because for the millionth time, Allison had told him that she heard nothing of Stiles nor Lydia. They'd been missing for almost five days now. Stiles' dad had put an APB out on both of them, and it was no secret that the Sheriff was worried sick, especially since his son had been kidnapped from the Lacrosse field only a day before he was kidnapped again. He would hardly speak to Scott and tell him if he'd found anything, and so Scott felt helpless. They had found Stiles' jeep with broken windows and wide open doors.
Stiles and Lydia had been riding together, and so they must have been taken to the same place. Scott had tried to track both of them by scent. Hell, even Derek and Isaac had tried to help.
Nothing.
Where could they have possibly been taken? And by who?
Scott arrived at the metal door in the ground behind the vet's office. It was locked, which was not for keeping other werewolves out, but more for keeping nosy humans out. Scott unlocked it, stepped down onto the ladder, re-locked it, and then made the nine foot jump down below. Werewolves didn't need ladders.
The lair/cellar/cave thing was lit up by a lot of candles, which gave a very eerie feel to it. As Scott made his way into the 300 square foot cement room, he sagged down onto the black leather couch he had gotten from a thrift shop.
"Allison hasn't heard anything yet," Scott said to the back of Derek's head. Derek was just standing, staring at the candlelight flickering on the wall like the brooding hunk of werewolf that he was.
"I can't think of any werewolf who would want to take them. Or why. And I'd really like to know where Erica and Boyd are. And where the hell Jackson went," Derek said. He was mostly talking to himself
"Erica and Boyd can take care of themselves. But if Stiles and Lydia were taken by some kind of supernatural thing, then I think we should be a little worried, Derek."
Derek spun around. "There's no point in being worried, Scott. There's nothing else you can do, and you're not helping them any by sulking around Beacon Hills."
Scott opened his mouth and shook his head at Derek, basically asking him what the hell was wrong with him and why he was being so insensitive.
But Derek just grounded his teeth and turned back around, hands in his pockets.
Stiles was right. He really was a sourwolf.
The thought made him smile for a second, but it quickly faded. Scott didn't want to underestimate the guy, but Stiles said it himself - sarcasm was his only weapon. That weapon wouldn't last very long if Stiles was in a bad situation, especially if Lydia was with him. When Stiles felt as if he had to protect Lydia, his self-importance dwindled down to 0%, and if Lydia was threatened, Scott was sure that Stiles would sacrifice himself.
He shook the thought and told himself to stop being so negative. He was getting antsy and was about to get up and go searching again when a voice yelled down to the cellar.
"Scott! Derek! You better come up here!"
It was Dr. Deaton. Scott and Derek shared a questioning look for a second, but they quickly climbed up the ladder. Dr Deaton stood facing them, but there was no time for small talk. He waved them into the vet office's backdoor.
And what a sight they saw.
"What the hell?" Scott exclaimed.
Lydia had her arm around Stiles' waist while he leaned on the counter, panting and sweating. His face was pale and he looked about ready to keel over. Lydia's hair was an absolute mess, and there was makeup smudged down her face in various patterns. Her eyes were wide as her gaze skipped from Stiles to Scott to Derek to Dr. Deaton.
Scott had never seen a more exhausted-looking couple of people in his entire life.
He was too overwhelmed with what he was seeing to truly realize what he was seeing. Stiles was bleeding. His arms were wrapped with blood soaked bandages, as well as his leg. His shirt was torn at the back with what looked like claw marks.
Scott swallowed. "Stiles?"
Stiles looked up at him slowly before raising a dirty hand. "Hey."
Author's Note: I have never written such a long fic at such a fast pace in my entire life, but that's because I've never had so much support and enthusiasm on one of my works before. Thank you all so much. I hope this chapter didn't disappoint. Again, reviews are so very much appreciated, as they help me improve my work and they help me grow as an author. Ugh, I love you guys! The Teen Wolf/Stydia fandom is amazing! See you next chapter!
