She had almost reached the door, Kira hot at her heels, when she heard a crashing sound inside and shouts. A shattering of glass.

That'll be the cabinets, Lydia thought grimly (her mother was absolutely going to kill her), and reached for the door handle. She didn't get a chance to touch it- the door was thrown open as Isaac's body hurtled through.

Lydia didn't get a chance to properly register this before Isaac crashed bodily into her, throwing them both into the ground a few feet back. She landed awkwardly on her hip, taking the brunt of their fall. Isaac was out cold, limbs sprawled over her.

Meanwhile, a blur of someone raced past, leaving a wind that blew Lydia's hair forward. Sputtering, she finally managed to push Isaac off of her and then Kira was there amongst the shouts, grabbing her hands and pulling her up while repeatedly saying "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Lydia said, not even really feeling the welt that would surely bruise tomorrow morning on her hip. She'd been too late. Stiles was free. "Did you see Kalku?" she said sharply to Isaac, who was coming to.

"Kalku," Isaac muttered. "That's the witch, right?"

So no, then.

She stepped into the doorway of the house- her shoe crunched on glass- and took in the scene. It was a mess- the framed photo on the wall hanging lopsidedly, a dent in the drywall, the couch upturned with Cora's legs barely visible dangling off the side. And she still heard shouting- no, it was arguing- in the next room. She paid it no heed for the moment.

"You let him leave?!" Lydia yelled, turning to Isaac behind her. He looked slightly guilty as he rubbed at the welt in his side.

"You didn't see him, Lydia- there was no warning and the moon's not even at its highest yet- the chains just, they just fell off-"

'Ridiculous," Lydia bit out, seething. She shouldn't have assumed they could keep it together while she was gone. Somewhere inside herself she knew she was really just angry at herself because it was her fault, but it was nice to have someone to yell at instead. And now Stiles was probably off in the woods, mauling little children and having something else to be guilty about when he woke up in the morning.

Malia came into view, limping. "We even put a mountain ash barrier around him, but-" Lydia raised her eyebrows venomously, and Malia paused cautiously before speaking again in a smaller voice, "it was already broken when he got free."

Of course it had. Of course Kalku was strong enough to break it. Her thoughts were cut off when Allison stormed into the room from some other place in the house, shouting after her, "you have to stop doing this! I can take care of myself."

Lydia closed her mouth and looked curiously at her best friend as Scott followed her into the room. She inhaled sharply at what she saw- Scott was clutching his bicep and Lydia could see a gash bleeding profusely there, blood gushing between his fingers and dripping down his arm.

Kira beat her to the question. "What happened?" she gasped, already running over to the drawer where Lydia kept the first aid kit.

Scott opened his mouth but Allison was the one who spoke, angrily. "This idiot pulled me out of the way when Stiles came at us and ended up getting his arm slit open," she hissed, putting her hands on her hips. "At the most I would have gotten bruise, but you made it worse for yourself. You need to stop doing this."

"I can't stop," Scott ground out, and even through his frustration Lydia heard helplessness. "You don't get it, I can't."

Lydia silently agreed. Even in her world, that was just who Scott was. It wasn't a duty thrust upon him by lycanthropy that made him kind and selfless and always willing to help; no, that was all there before, because the truth was that Scott was a hero from the start.

"Well, try!" Allison threw her hands up. "You're human, Scott!" And her forceful words seemed to reverberate through Lydia, because they reminded her of Stiles. "And you always seem to forget that. You're going to get killed trying to play the hero." On the last word her hands dropped to her face and her voice broke.

Scott walked over to her and anger was forgotten as his arms encircled her, even though his blood was now staining Allison's shirt. "Better me than you," he said softly, and Allison was furiously shaking her head even as he nestled her into his shoulder. Which was why she didn't see Scott look at Lydia out of the corner of his eye.

And now Lydia completely understood.

It wasn't just about Scott being the hero when it came to Allison. He hadn't forgotten what Lydia had told him about the other world. A world without Allison. And maybe that made him more conscious of her, of her utter fragility, knowing that it had been smashed to pieces in another life.

Lydia nodded silently at Scott, and he returned the gesture.

"What now?" said Malia carefully, finally having learned some sort of tact in these sorts of situations.

"We have to stop him," Lydia said matter-of-factly. "This was Kalku's doing." She ignored the shocked looks on their faces. "She was here. She did this on purpose." Because I didn't help her. But she decided to omit that piece of information for now. There were more pressing matters.

"How do you know it was-" Scott stopped and shook his head. "Never mind. Alright, let's go."

"How are we even going to catch him?" Cora inquired, finally entering the room with an ice bag pressed to her forehead. "He beat down all of us in one go. I've never seen him that strong," she mumbled, and her voice had a certain element of awe to it.

"That's because usually he has more restraint," Allison said, finally pulling away from Scott's shoulder to pace. Kira moved in to bandage Scott's arm. "We need to corner him somehow."

"It's really too bad you don't have any of your dad's ol' glow sticks," Isaac mused. "Those worked well back in high school." Allison made a face.

"It's not my fault he took all our stuff to France with him."

"You know what we do have," Kira said slowly as she worked, "is this." She nodded at the basket of wolfsbane that she'd picked while shooting an apologetic look at Lydia, knowing she still wasn't on board.

Everyone seemed to turn to Scott. Even though Stiles was the alpha here, it was Scott that the group seemed to turn to more often than not. He was a natural born leader in that sense. Although at the moment he looked reluctant. "Maybe it is the only option," he conceded, and his voice was a little sad, a little defeated. Lydia felt for him; he'd tried so hard to stop it from coming to this.

Kira jumped in, voice soothing. "We just need to slow him down. One of the non-werewolves has to get close enough to expose him to it." The room was silent, contemplating the possibility of getting a little too close for comfort to an alpha on a full moon-induced rampage.

"I'll do it," said Lydia, but it just so happened that Scott said it at the same time. The two looked at each other. Scott looked conflicted.

"Lydia, I'll do it. Stiles will kill me if you get hurt –"

"He won't hurt me," Lydia interrupted, her words sure. Scott seemed to hesitate in his argument at the confidence with which she spoke.

"How would you know that?" Scott said weakly.

"I'm his anchor," Lydia replied matter-of-factly, and the words tumbled out of her mouth without thought, yet when she paused to think, she realized she recognized it as the truth. At Scott's quizzical glance, she sighed and elaborated. "In my universe, Allison was your anchor when you lost control as a werewolf. It just makes sense that I would be his."

"Why Allison?" Isaac asked curiously. "Why not Stiles or his mom?"

Lydia opened her mouth to answer. Because he loved her in a way he didn't love anyone else. But then she realized she didn't want to answer that question, because then it would apply to Stiles too.

And she really didn't like thinking about that.

So instead she simply said, "that's just the way it is."

From the meaningful way Scott and Allison exchanged looks, she felt like she'd answered the question anyway.

"How can you really be so sure this is the same thing?" Allison asked, and Lydia knew the inquiry was far less innocent than how it was posed. But Lydia was ready for it.

"Proof," Lydia replied, folding her arms and shooting her best friend a look that hopefully communicated that Lydia knew exactly what she was doing. "When did he start really losing control tonight, Scott? The exact moment," Lydia pressed pointedly.

There was a beat of silence as realization dawned. Then: "After you left," Scott said, wonderingly. "Right after you left with Kira."

"Exactly," Lydia said primly, ignoring the blown away looks on everyone's faces in the room. "Does anyone else have doubts?" She made sure her tone left no room for it. They really didn't have time; they needed to catch up to Stiles as fast as possible.

"Nope," Allison said finally, and then grinned wickedly. "God, I haven't shot Stiles in forever." She produced her bow out of nowhere, it seemed, and plucked the taut string with one finger. "Let's go catch a werewolf."


In the end, the werewolves went ahead of them into the windy night, going east towards the town where they thought Stiles might go; Scott and Allison took Allison's motorbike, and Lydia and Kira took Scott's truck. "We'll call each other when we find him," Cora had said shortly, "then you come and hit 'im with the wolfsbane."

The thought of it kind of turned her stomach now, but if anyone had to do that to him, she wanted to be the one. The small pouch of mountain ash was burning a hole in her jean shorts pocket, though.

It was only a few short, terse minutes in the truck with Kira when she heard a blood-curdling scream ring through the night. She slammed on the brakes, and Kira reached for the door to steady herself with alarm.

"What-"

Lydia was already frantically putting the truck into reverse. "That scream came from my neighbour's lodge."

"What scream?" Kira said, looking confused. "And isn't your neighbour's lodge like, ten miles from here?"

Lydia's sardonic side sighed internally. There was only one conclusion to be made. "I guess it's a banshee thing," she exhaled, and put the truck into drive.

Kira digested this. Then: "I thought you said you make sure your neighbours aren't around during the full moon."

"I try, but I can't be omnipresent either, can I?" huffed Lydia, barely feeling guilty at her own sharpness. Better irrational anger than panic. She couldn't help Stiles (or whoever Stiles was currently attacking) in a panic. Kira seemed to understand, because she stayed silent.

Lydia drove like a mad woman, barely even seeing the dirt road in front of her. She had to get to Stiles. She didn't even want to think about what might happen- but, then again, she hadn't had the overwhelming urge to scream, either, so maybe that was a good sign-

"Lydia, look!" Kira suddenly shouted, pointing out the window. "It's his shirt."

Lydia spared it a glance. Sure enough, she saw the blur of Stiles' trademark flannel torn and hanging off a branch. Great. She kept driving.

"Why do werewolves always run around shirtless?" Kira wondered.

"He's not shirtless, he's just minus one shirt," Lydia said automatically, calmly. Stiles wore more layers than a teenage girl on the Disney channel.

She was internally giggling at her own imagery despite the severity of the situation (or more likely, because of it) so she almost didn't notice the tall figure standing in the middle of the road until Kira screamed.

And then Lydia was screaming, too, but she didn't know for what, if someone was dying or if she was just terrified - so in one jerked motion Lydia had turned the steering wheel and Scott's truck swerved drastically to the side, and into the trees. Lydia could barely see where she had gone, but suddenly the world was lurching violently, disorienting her, and so it seemed as if the thick tree trunk appeared out of nowhere.

They hit it. Lydia had the worst luck in the world.


When Lydia came to, the smell of smoke was the first thing to assault her senses. The next thing she felt was her ribs, pulsing a sharp pain through her side. And the last thing she realized was that she was being dragged by the arms across the uneven forest floor, away from the vehicle. She immediately struggled to open her eyes to see her savior.

"Ah good, you're awake. And just in time."

There was no mistaking that voice. It was Kalku. Not much of a savior.

"K-Kira," Lydia slurred, struggling in a haze to peer back at the truck that she was slowly being dragged away from. Scott's truck was twisted around the tree trunk, the hood crumpled like aluminum foil and the whole vehicle slightly tilted to the side. The source of the smoke was clearly wafting from there, but she couldn't see Kira. "Nooo…" she groaned, letting her head fall back. She felt exhausted, as if she'd run a marathon, and her ribs hurt.

She heard a little sigh above her. "Your little kitsune friend is fine. I was just trying to get you to stop. I wasn't trying to cause an accident, I'm not an animal-" she laughed lightly, "I just wanted to talk to you. See if you've changed your mind."

Lydia, even in a haze, felt herself becoming furious. Whether it was intentional or not, she'd caused an accident and nearly gotten Kira and her killed. "I haven't," she retorted with surprising lucidity.

"We'll see," Kalku said, seemingly undeterred by the response. Lydia immediately saw why when Kalku suddenly gripped her under the arms and hauled her up.

"Oh, my, look at that."

Lydia looked and saw they were in front of her neighbour's lodge. And then she saw him. Stiles.

She couldn't actually see his face- it was too dark, and they were too far away- but she'd recognize his silhouette anywhere, and that white tee that was especially visible in the dark. Except, there was something different about him. He wasn't walking with his usual lilt. No, he was prowling. That was really the only way to describe it, the way he seemed to glide across the moonlit field like he owned the night.

He sort of did.

"Mr. and Mrs. Wells who live just down the road," Kalku said conversationally while Lydia was registering all this. "You'd think they'd keep better tabs on their children who've snuck off to spend the night running around this property." Her voice suddenly dripped with false concern. "Who knows what kind of trouble they'd run into?"

Lydia tried to pull away from Kalku, but she was too weakened. Kalku made an amused sound at her feeble attempt and continued.

"I'm afraid they already saw the wolf. See, they ran into that shed, that one Stiles is walking towards right now?" Lydia's breath came out in short gasps as she saw what this was coming to. "I wonder which one he'll kill first. The pretty redhead? She kind of looks like you. Or maybe her little brother. Or maybe he'll rip off both their heads at once." The witch smiled innocently at Lydia.

"Let go of me," Lydia snarled, tugging at Kalku's arms, her embrace a mockery of a hug. Kalku merely tightened her grip.

"Nothing you do will help him," Kalku said calmly. "But you know I can. I can save them."

"Screw you," Lydia hissed, and then raised her voice into a scream without warning. "Stiles! Stiles!"

He didn't even turn his head, although Lydia's scream was so loud that it was still ringing in her ears.

"He can't hear you, banshee," Kalku said in a sing-song voice. "Just give me what I want."

Stiles was approaching the shed door, and now from here she could see his glowing red irises in the shadows of his face. Lydia struggled again to no avail. "What do you want?" she gasped, humoring her finally.

"A promise," Kalku breathed into her ear, and it faintly occurred to Lydia that maybe she wasn't the only person here who was desperate. "That you'll help me. I'll even get you back to your universe. See? I'm not the bad guy, Lydia." She nodded over Lydia's shoulder at the scene in front of them. "But he is. Your choice."

What kind of choice was that?

All she could do was watch and let her mind sort through her limited options- god, where were all the werewolves when she actually needed them? But her time had seemed to run out before she could really sort anything out. Because suddenly the shed door had swung open before Stiles even reached it and the two children ran out, apparently trying to make a break for it.

"No!" Lydia screamed, struggling as hard as she could against Kalku, but once again, it was like she couldn't move at all.

Stiles reached out almost lazily and snagged the girl's ankle, sending her tumbling into the grass. Her little brother ran into the woods, safe for now.

"No!" Lydia shrieked again as Stiles- no, not Stiles, the monster in him- stalked closer and seized that little girl by the hair, wrenching her upright.

"Make a choice, Lydia," Kalku said, sounding almost bored.

Lydia half-sobbed in defeat, sagging against the restraining arms as Stiles' arm rose in a sickeningly slow, wide arc that it would follow on the way down with his claws out, and she could see that little redhead's mouth opening in a silent scream of terror-

And what frightened Lydia more than any of that was the vague tickling sensation in her throat.

Like she might want to scream.

And that was it for her. There was no choice to make.

"Alright! Alright! Just- please!" Lydia begged, hating how this woman had reduced her to a pleading mess, but not really caring at the moment.

The grip on her tightened momentarily. "You'll help me unleash the Nemeton for myself?"

"Yes!" Lydia didn't even know what she was saying at this point. She was crying and making nonsensical sounds and tears were blurring her vision. And yet she was making a deal with the devil and some calm, rational part of her knew it, but that part of her was not currently in charge. All she knew was that across the field a little girl was crying in the face of her death, and the face of her death would wake up tomorrow and his soul would be absolutely annihilated.

Lydia didn't really mind trading.

There was smugness when Kalku spoke next. "I'll be in touch."

And then she was gone.

With the support she'd been leaning against suddenly gone, Lydia fell to her knees with a cry. But the urge to scream was gone also. Heart in her throat, she looked up.

Stiles was on the ground, lying on his back, motionless. The little girl that had been moments away from her death had taken off, flying as if the devil were on her heels, which, technically, well- she wasn't wrong.

Lydia called out weakly, "Wait-" but the girl had disappeared into the woods on the opposite side of the clearing. Lydia could only hope one of the werewolves would find her before some other predator of the night did.

It wasn't her only problem right now. Stiles was stirring. Lydia gathered her strength, ignoring the burning that still resided in her ribs, and stumbled forward, finally making her way across the clearing.

He was hunched on his hands and knees when she reached him, back bowed, head down so the only indication that he wasn't himself was the pointed tips of his ears. But then he growled.

It sounded far more wolf than human, and nothing like Stiles at all; she faltered in her steps, her fist closing very tightly around the pouch of wolfsbane in her pocket.

She willed her breathing to calm, and stopped only a few feet away. "Stiles?..."

At the sound of her voice, he visibly tensed. She watched his clawed hands that had previously been clutching at the dirt curl in on themselves into tight fists, and blood welled from his palms. The lines of his shoulders were taut under his grass-stained shirt.

Then he spoke.

"Run."

And she might have, except for the desperate sound of his voice; it was Stiles with an undertone of the wolf's animalistic growl. But he was there. He was there. So she remained rooted to the spot.

"Lydia," he said again, and she could hear him saying it through gritted teeth. "Leave."

"I'm never leaving," she responded immediately, the words flying out of her mouth without her really thinking about it. She sunk to her knees, still staying a respectful distance away. "I'm never abandoning you."

He was silent for a long moment, perhaps digesting this, and: "Then give me that wolfsbane before I kill you."

His tone was flat and matter-of-fact but Lydia didn't flinch at the words. He must have smelt it. Her hand was still in her pocket, and she scooped the wolfsbane in her palm but did nothing with it. Yet.

A tremor seemed to pass through his spine at her inaction. "Lydia," he said, and his voice was rough. "Please."

She hesitated.

He finally lifted his head and the moonlight threw his face into stark relief for a single second. Lydia struggled with herself in order not to gasp at the sight of him. The inhuman snout, the glowing red eyes, the wickedly sharp fangs were all so out of place on him- and he snarled at her then, "Please!"

She could do nothing but open her palm, and the breeze that had wafted through the forest all night did the work for her.

The wolfsbane dust drifted to him, and she could pinpoint the exact moment that it hit because he almost seemed to relax, as absurd as it was, for a moment. Like he didn't have to fight anymore.

And then he was taking stuttered breaths, and he clutched at his own throat with clawed hands, and agonized keening sounds that stumbled from his lips. Lydia immediately crawled over to him, and this time he didn't fight her as she tried to remove his hands from his own throat, hold them in her own, stroking his knuckles lightly with her thumbs.

At this proximity she could see that he was entirely human again. But when the moonlight caught his face this time, she saw his whisky coloured eyes were still absent.

"Shhh," she heard herself saying in a soothing tone, and his angry pants turned into pained breaths, growing steadier. She focused her gaze on his eyes, staring into the endless red that had taken over his beautiful brown irises, trying to soothe him.

His arms seemed to buckle under his own weight but Lydia was ready and caught him in her arms, holding him to her chest as he sagged forward. She held his face to her chest and marveled in the puffs of breath that hit her skin.

He trembled all over, and she could tell he was in pain when he spoke. "Did I…" she heard him swallow thickly and try again. "Did I…?"

She knew what he was asking, though, and held him a little tighter. "No," she answered firmly. "No, you didn't." There was no need for him to know why. Not now.

She heard a little sigh of relief – "Thanks," he whispered, and she didn't respond. There was nothing to say.

He merely breathed for a few more seconds- she could tell he struggled, and she wanted so badly to take away his pain, somehow.

"You are," he said softly, and she realized she'd said that last part out loud.

She stroked her hand through his sweaty hair. "And yet here you are, still sounding like an elephant is sitting on your chest," she said dryly with an effort to keep emotion out of her voice.

"It doesn't hurt so much when you do that," he said, finally lifting his head to look into her eyes earnestly, and why did he have to go and say things like that? She didn't want the feelings that suddenly tumbled, unfettered, in her stomach when her hands were stroking his cheek. She didn't want to feel this for him. She didn't want- she didn't want to see his eyes, the adoration that clearly shone there without the expectation of being reciprocated, perhaps not even knowing that she reciprocated-

No, she didn't. She definitely didn't.

"I'm sorry for today," he muttered, sleepily.

"I know. Shhh." Distantly, she heard shouts- familiar voices. The others had finally found them. Too damn late, she might add, but she was too tired to be angry.

"No, really. I was being a- a-" He seemed at a loss, as if struggling for an appropriate insult that would suit his mistake effectively. She had to smile to herself.

"Perfectly normal werewolf," Lydia finished for him. And she'd dealt with that before. Her brief make-out session with Scott flashed through her mind.

"Werewolves suck," he muttered, leaning against her collarbone and a small smile tugging at his lips as he looked at her. His eyes were fading to amber now.

Lydia barely heard Scott approach behind her, but when he made a sound, Lydia said in a trance-like sort of voice, "We were in an accident. Kira's just beyond the treeline in the truck. I think she's unconscious."

She heard Scott swear under his breath and turn to run across the field in the direction that she'd pointed.

Stiles furrowed his brow at her. She could tell he was already healing from the wolfsbane. Maybe alphas had a stronger tolerance. "What happened?"

"Deer in front of the truck," she lied easily. "Unlucky."

His eyes searched hers, even as he struggled to sit up. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she lied again. She didn't expect it when he lifted himself upright, leaned his head against her shoulder and gently cradled her hands in one of his. And unexpectedly, the persistent ache in her ribs became steadily fainter. She looked down to their joined hands and saw the black, spidery veins crawling their way up his forearms.

She half-heartedly tried to tug her hands away even as her body sighed in relief. "Stiles, you're not even fully healed -"

He made a humming sound. "Lydia." Then he nuzzled into her cheek, his lips brushing against her skin sending tiny shockwaves through as he whispered, "I don't fucking care." His eyes were heavy with emotion when he pulled away to look at her, and as always it took her breath away.

God, his eyes.

They'd all been through so much. They'd all been changed by the monstrous things they'd experienced. Stiles' transformation had just been a little more subtle as the years of high school went on. He was just a little less lighthearted, a little less easy to laugh. A little more cynical and paranoid and a little more quiet.

And perhaps she wouldn't have noticed. Except, sometimes; when he looked at her like that, it was like she could see the echo of sophomore Stiles in his eyes, sunnily staring back at her, and it only reminded her of what they'd all lost.

And what more they had to lose.


A/N: This was super long and I could have split it again but I decided not to be a dick for once haha. Unlike Kalku. Who you undoubtedly have questions about, and those questions will be answered. At some point.

And oh, god, thank you SO much for your reviews. You know how much they mean to me. In answer to that one sassy Guest reviewer, yes, reviews turn me on. That's my kink: REVIEWS. ;) Let me know what you thought of this one!