Author's Note: Okay guys, so unfortunately, this is going to be the last chapter before the epilogue (by the way, don't skip the epilogue! I will be filling in some loopholes, showing how Stiles and Lydia are coping and also adding in some Stydia fluff, so I hope you'll like it.) Again, I really really appreciate all the support you've shown me, and this will not be my last Stydia/Teen Wolf story! So please follow me so you can check out some other Stydia stories that I have brewing! I hope you enjoy this chapter and the epilogue that will be uploaded soon. I love you all!

Stiles awoke to the sound of a hushed conversation.

"You're sure you're okay?" That was Allison's voice.

"Better now." That was Lydia, speaking with a kind of nonchalance that shouldn't be there after having been kidnapped.

He opened his eyes slowly and was very glad that he was still in the cellar. The dim light of candles in the corner was all his eyes could handle at the moment. Allison and Lydia were huddled against the wall opposite Stiles' couch. They sat close together with their legs pulled up to their chests, knees nudging each other. Stiles was glad to see Allison here - he knew that Lydia needed a friend.

He draped an arm over his forehead, turning to stare at the ceiling. The fresh bandages on his forearms were a relief - they seemed to soothe the burns underneath. The cellar was humid and smelt of sweat and dirt, but also the pleasant smell of flames coming from the candles.

He noticed something new about the room; a pile sat in the corner by the entrance. As Stiles focused his eyes he could see metal gleaming in the candle light. Dozens of sharp arrows were lying neatly in the corner, and the distinct shape of a bow leaned against the wall.

"Jesus, that really sets the mood," Stiles croaked.

"Stiles," Lydia breathed, her voice sounding relieved. She uncurled from her position on the floor and crawled over to kneel near his face. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. You know, Lydia, you could have went home and changed or something. You smell awful," Stiles said.

Lydia crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows. "I could say the same about you."

Stiles smiled and winked. Allison appeared, standing behind Lydia. "Hey, Stiles," she said with a warm smile.

"Allison," he said in greeting, trying to sit up. He widened his eyes and grabbed Lydia's shoulder. "Whoa, head rush."

"Look, just slow down, okay? Don't be an idiot," Lydia said, trying to push him back down, but he was up now. He swung into a sitting position.

"Where's Scott and Derek? Someone's really gotta get me the time of day cause I feel like I've slept for a year," Stiles said.

"It's been about 14 hours since we first got here, according to Allison's watch. It's 2 o'clock in the morning," Lydia said, matter-of-factly.

"Scott's out with Derek. Isaac got into trouble or something, so I told them I'd stay here with you and Lydia," Allison explained.

"Oh, so I guess those are just for extra protection?" Stiles nudged his head towards the bow and arrows.

Allison shrugged, looking a little sheepish. "Old habits."

The conversation was lighthearted, but there was a kind of tension in the air that said that Lydia had told Allison what had happened, and she was trying not to let it show on her face.

But Stiles wasn't one to be discreet.

"So, Lydia told you all about the shit that went down, huh?" Stiles asked.

Allison seemed to let out a breath, relieved to break the awkward tension. "Yeah," she said simply.

Stiles looked to Lydia, and her big green eyes told him that she hadn't told her everything. Stiles was grateful, but he felt an uncomfortable anxiety thinking about the subject. He rung his hands.

"Hey, um, I'm gonna go call Scott and figure out where they are," said Allison. She gave a little half smile for Stiles, and then sent a knowing look towards Lydia. Stiles wasn't exactly sure what this meant in girl code, but he felt as if Allison was leaving them alone for a reason.

She made her way up the ladder and Lydia and Stiles just kind of looked at each other for a bit before Lydia spoke up.

"I dreamt about her," she said, barely above a whisper. She was still on her knees in front of Stiles, even if there was a free spot beside him on the couch. She picked at her fingers as her hands rested on Stiles' knee.

"Who?" Stiles asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Heather. And Jaymie. I don't want to see them every time I close my eyes," she said, shaking her head solemnly and moving her gaze down to her hands.

"Come here," Stiles said simply, moving over and patting the couch. Lydia was hesitant at first as her eyes looked him up and down, but eventually she stood up and sat next to Stiles, her leg brushing his. "You know there's always a silver lining, right? For example, it'll probably be a wicked story to tell your grandkids."

"Yeah, well," Lydia took a deep breath. "At this rate I'll probably be mauled by one of my werewolf boyfriends before I ever get as far as having grandchildren."

Stiles was hesitant to say his next sentence, as it strongly implied something that he wasn't so sure was established yet. "Well, I'm not a werewolf."

Lydia looked up at him. God, her eyes were wide and sad with some deep-rooted fear and yet, they were still as beautiful as ever. Their faces were close as he looked down at her. He couldn't help his eyes darting up and down between her eyes and her lips. Had he really been kissed by her less than a day ago?

"Stiles..."

He interrupted her. He really didn't want to hear this right now. "Yeah, I know, Lydia. I get it. Heat of the moment, right? You still have feelings for Jackson-"

"No, Stiles. No. You know, screw Jackson. I saw...I saw how you protected me in there, and not just for some desire to be a hero or some inflated ego of yours, but because...I'm done now," Lydia said, and she looked him deep in the eyes before saying this last part. "I'm done pretending to be a nitwit."

Stiles was reminded of that night at the dance when he had somehow found the courage to say those exact words to Lydia. Once you're done pretending to be a nitwit...

And she remembered that. Stiles went home that night feeling like an idiot for yelling at her like that, and all the while Lydia went home with his words seared into her mind. His words. Like they actually mattered to someone like her.

For once in his life, Stiles was speechless. The kind of speechlessness that only Lydia Martin had the power to inflict on him.

So they just kind of stared at each other for a while until Stiles regained some of his words, if still a bit dumbfounded.

"Um, hey, you know, I'm feeling a lot better now if you..."

He was sure that he'd startled her now and that she would recoil from him. But instead she had consideration on her face, as if weighing her options. "Allison will probably be back in soon-"

Alright, so she hadn't said no. And who gave a shit if the entire population of Beacon Hills High walked into the cellar. He grabbed her face and he was the one to initiate the kiss this time, and shit, he wanted to do that since he had first started developing hormones in the third grade.

It was just like the one they had had in the field, but better, because this time Stiles could think a little more coherently and he was able to pour every single thought of her into one little action. How relieved he was when he saw her walk out of that forest on such a cold night. How she knocked on his door only days ago, crying freely in front of him like she would never have done in front of anyone else. How confident she was when she walked down the halls and the way her hair...

He put his hands through her hair and she put her arms around his neck until the positioning was kind of awkward sitting on the couch and so they had to get up on their knees to make it work. Eventually, somehow, Lydia ended up lying on the couch and Stiles was on top of her, just barely touching.

And then they rolled off the couch and that kind of ruined the mood a little.

Lydia let out a seriously adorable half-laugh, half-snort thing as she rolled off of him, lying next to him on the cold cement floor.

"Christ, Stiles, it's like three o'clock in the morning," Lydia said, still a little out of breath. She turned her head to look at him as they lay on the floor. "Where did that come from?"

"What, you think you're the first girl I've ever done that with? Please," said Stiles, smugly.

But Lydia just raised her eyebrows and she had this way of coxing the truth out of everyone.

"Okay, maybe you were," he said, deflated.

Lydia wasn't going to say it out loud, but the fact that that was one of the first times Stiles had really kissed someone kind of shocked her. He was almost better than Jackson in some respects. But he was definitely better than Jackson when it came to passion.

They were still lying on the floor with the blanket tangled around Stiles' feet when Scott walked back in the cellar.

He stopped dead once his feet the floor, and Lydia and Stiles quickly sat up and shoved their backs against the couch, Stiles' kicking the blanket off of his feet.

"I knew it," Scott said quietly, walking into the room with an awestruck look on his face. "I so knew it, Stiles!"

"Scott, really, can we be adults about this?" Stiles said, putting his hands out pleadingly.

"Sorry, I'll shut up," Scott said, holding his hands up apologetically but keeping the proud smirk on his face. "Oh hey, how are you feeling by the way?"

"Fine," Stiles said with a shrug, and Lydia moved her hand so that she was holding his.

Scott moved over to the candles with a lighter and lit up some of the ones that had gone out. "Cool. Um...do you think maybe you're ready to go home? To your dad, I mean? You too, Lydia. Everyone is freaking out and I really can't keep lying to them."

Stiles took a deep breath beside her, and Lydia squeezed his hand, looking up at him. He looked sick at the mention of his father, and she couldn't blame him. The sheriff would have a hard time taking a look at his arms and not pressing charges.

"You know I think I have to tell him, Scott. About everything," Stiles said.

Scott sighed and moved away from the candles to lean against the wall opposite them. "Well, maybe that's for the better anyways. Now that the Kanima's gone, maybe things won't be so dangerous for him."

Lydia was surprised at how much she agreed with Scott's statement.

"He's right, Stiles," she said. "He could probably help too."

Stiles tensed a little at that. "Nope. No way. I'll tell him, but that's no reason for him to jump out into middle of the battlefield."

"Stiles-"

"No, Scott. Just...no," he snapped. His eyes were getting that faraway look again, like he had back at the cellar when he was poisoned. There was no doubt in Lydia's mind that the thought of implicating his Dad in all of this was reminding Stiles of something he'd seen when he was hallucinating.

"Scott, leave it," she said, on the verge of panicking. She didn't want Stiles to remember it, and she didn't want to have to watch him do so. Again.

Scott looked like he was about to say something else, but he faltered under Lydia's glare. He looked at his best friend sadly just as Stiles seemed to emerge from something, like someone coming up for air after being underwater.

"Yeah, I gotta go home," Stiles said, nodding his head. He looked down at Lydia. "And so do you, Lydia. You have to sleep."

"Okay," Lydia said softly. She squeezed his hand once more before standing and helping Stiles up along with her.

Lydia didn't care that Scott was standing there watching. She was a little past caring about what others thought of their relationship now. She kissed him again - just a small one to give him some strength and comfort when facing his father.

And maybe give some to herself too.