You'll notice some more things that follow canon closer in the upcoming chapters, but I try to add an AU twist here and there wherever I can! Some have to stay very similar just to make things make sense down the road and so I don't miss anything too important.. forgive me! Hope you still enjoy :)

I do not own Teen Wolf.

Stiles woke with a start, gasping for air like he had been under water for a minute too long. He scrambled to sit up, his t-shirt sticking to his damp skin. Covered in a cold sweat and shivering, Stiles kicked his legs over the side of the bed and attempted to catch his breath.

He corrected his throat, but found it was mostly clear. Surprising, considering how harshly he had to scream himself out of his last dream. It had felt like he had torn it apart.

It wasn't the first time he had woken up like this since moving home. He had had a few nightmares like these when he was away at school, but he just assumed it was normal, only appearing when under high stress. But maybe Scott had been right—maybe it wasn't just PTSD from having their parents nearly sacrificed. Maybe it really was the aftereffects of what they did last year.

"Morning!" a chipper voice came from his left, and Stiles managed to pull himself out of his thoughts to find his best friend leaning against his en-suite bathroom's door.

Scott was beaming at him, fully dressed and ready for the day it seemed. Light was streaming in from the window.

Stiles groaned. "Seriously, Scott? How enthusiastic can one person be in the morning?"

He simply grinned. "You're going to be late…"

"Maybe I'll skip."

"Isn't your first class with Lydia?"

Stiles sighed and sluggishly got to his feet. "You know, I can't decide if it's flattering or creepy that you know my schedule so well."

"It's impressive actually. Hurry up and get ready. Mom's making breakfast. And you know she'll grill you about proper eating habits if you skip it."

With that, Scott headed off to no doubt get his bag packed or whatever the hell he hadn't done yet.

Despite Stiles' slow start, he couldn't help but smile as he started getting ready. It had only been a few weeks being home, but it was like he never left. Actually, somehow it was better. Scott couldn't even hide his excitement that he was back, and his dad was much the same. Even Melissa and Allison seemed to smile more often now.

Maybe it was all in his head, but it was touching nonetheless. He was glad to be home, although there were some things the pack had yet to discuss. He made a mental note to set aside some time that week to do so. He had been so busy trying to get things worked out with the school, move back in and show Lydia around town it kind of got put on the back burner. But it really wasn't something that could wait.

Stiles had planned on bringing it up the night before, one of the reasons he agreed to sleep over at Scott's, and yet they somehow managed to talk about everything but. It's sort of what happened when they had four months of zero hangout time to catch up on.

Stiles truly was happy to be back, but he couldn't deny the nagging part of him that was nervous. Nervous for what was coming. He knew it wasn't just him experiencing an influx of symptoms, but they were getting worse. Much worse.

Stiles headed downstairs to join the family for breakfast, unable to help the memories from coming to the surface.

Over Christmas, Allison had been over for Christmas Eve at Scott's place with Stiles and Lydia. They were watching Christmas specials, eating freshly baked cookies and exchanging Secret Santa gifts. It was a great night, filled with laughter and shared memories.

But Stiles had noticed something else amongst the upbeat evening.

There was an air to Scott and Allison that suggested they were anxious, as if waiting for something to come knocking at the door. He noticed on more than one occasion Allison's eyes darted around the room, as if sweeping her gaze around to ensure no one was lurking in hidden corners.

When Stiles saw her go to screw the lid of the eggnog on and her hands were shaking too badly to get it to work, he knew he couldn't play dumb any longer.

Before he could pull her aside, Lydia suggested they start opening the Secret Santa gifts.

Forcing a smile, Stiles passed his over to Scott. "Wanna go first?"

Scott grinned. "You got me?"

He shrugged, grinning back. It had been hard to keep a secret. "Made for easy shopping."

Before Scott could start tugging at the paper, he paused, swallowing. "Um, maybe someone else should go first. Lydia, it was your idea to start doing this. Yours is the purple and silver one."

Lydia reached for the gift, the others casting a strange glance to Scott, and Stiles finally understood why.

Scott had buried his hands underneath the gift, but Stiles could see the glimpse of the ends of his fingers, his claws fully out.

"Um, Scott, maybe we should be documenting this? Where's your camera? Let's go look for it." Stiles said pointedly, dragging him by one wrist out of the room. "Be right back."

Scott was breathing heavily by the time they made it to the kitchen. "I can't put them back."

Their parents got up from the table where they had been drinking wine over a game of cards.

"What's going on?" Melissa asked, sensing the tension immediately.

"Well, Fenrir Greyback here is trying to expose himself to Lydia apparently." Stiles said exasperatedly.

"I swear I'm trying. They won't go back in." Scott said, showing his hands and the deadly weapons extended out of the end of his fingers.

His breathing was getting heavier, his shoulders hunched, and Stiles could see his fangs protruding through his lips, his eye colour flashing back and forth from chocolate to blood red.

Melissa looked around quickly to make sure the girls hadn't come looking for them. "Okay. Get him outside. Now."

Stiles was already pushing him out the back door.

Scott stumbled away from him immediately as Stiles tried to follow him. "Get away from me! I don't know what's going to happen." he growled, pushing off his jacket, breathing laboured.

"Scott, it's okay—"

"Stay back!"

Scott let out a fully wolfed-out roar—Stiles cringing at how loud it was—and then he clenched both fists so tightly blood spilled between his fingers and dripped down his arms.

He fell to his knees, panting hard.

"Scott?" Stiles asked softly, stepping down the stairs one at a time.

He unfurled his fingers, showing the lack of claws, and his eyes were the familiar brown again.

"Pain makes you human." Scott murmured by way of explanation, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he shakily collapsed backwards to splay his legs out in front of him.

"Scott, this isn't just in our heads. It's starting to get bad for me too. I'm not just having nightmares—I'm having these dreams where I literally have to scream myself awake. And sometimes I'm not even sure if I'm ever actually waking up."

"What do you mean?" Scott asked, clearly concerned.

Stiles shook his head. "It's not important right now. We need to get back inside. Is Allison seeing Kate again too? She's been off all night."

Scott sighed. "In the fall, they were more like nightmares. And the odd daydream glimpse of her around corners. Now she goes into full-on hallucinations. And her shooting is off. She can't aim at all."

"Damn it. We've got to figure something out and soon. We can't go on living like this."

Scott nodded. "Let's get back."

Stiles got up to follow him. Before he could keep going, Stiles grabbed his arm.

"Clean your hands first. You looked like you just performed an autopsy."

Scott looked down at his bloody hands and quickly moved to the sink, scrubbing them beneath the stream.

Their parents were watching warily.

"It's fine. We got it under control." Stiles told them quietly, even though it was obvious that Scott wasn't transformed the way he was before.

Freshly cleaned, both boys returned to the living room where the girls were waiting patiently.

"So…?" Lydia asked slowly.

Stiles swallowed, glancing at Scott. "What?"

"Did you find the camera?" she asked amusedly.

Scott and Stiles looked at each other.

"Couldn't find it. Must be buried somewhere. Guess we'll have to use our phones after all." Scott said nonchalantly, crossing his legs on the floor where he had been sitting before.

Allison forced a broad smile. "Okay, well, let's get back to opening gifts. I already opened mine from Lydia."

"So you got me?" Stiles asked, surprised but pleased. Allison was pretty good at finding the perfect gift.

"It's the blue striped one." she confirmed.

They resumed the fun evening, but Lydia wasn't oblivious. She knew she was missing something. One of these days, she was going to figure out what big secret the three of them were harbouring.

Christmas and New Year's came and went, and soon they all were headed back to school. Since the four friends were all doing an undergrad, they were fortunate enough to be able to go to the same college. It was nice, having actual friends nearby or at least able to meet up with for breaks between classes.

Homework was still a chore, but at least having friends to study with made it a little more bearable.

Stiles yawned as he erased his most recent answer. He had been working on this problem for fifteen minutes and kept getting radically different answers. He knew his head wasn't in it, but he had to get the assignment done. It was due in two days and he had two more pages of problems to do.

Scott was across the table from him, mouthing words as he memorized definitions, and Allison was lounging on the leather loveseat behind him, reading ahead for her therapeutic communication class. Lydia was still in class, but would be meeting them once she was dismissed.

"Hey, do either of you remember anything from your math classes that would help explain what the hell I'm doing wrong with these functions? I don't have the formula wrong but I cannot figure out what f and g equal, since when I plug them in, they are definitely wrong."

"I never excelled at math." Scott reminded him. "And I took much less advanced courses than you. Lydia will know. Or maybe you could find a book around here that might help. It is a library after all."

Allison walked over to glance over his shoulder to see what he was dealing with. "Sorry, Stiles. It's been way too long." She headed back to her seat with a grim smile.

Stiles mulled his options over, staring at his notebook, hoping his error would suddenly jump out at him. He wasn't sure when Lydia's class was done. She might not be around for another hour, and he needed the right answer to the question to proceed or else it was all for naught.

"All right, I'll be back."

Stiles grabbed his textbook and work and headed over to the help desk.

"Hey, would you have any books here that explain Calculus in really simple terms? I have this equation I'm stuck on and—"

He stopped talking when the librarian looked up at him, unblinkingly, and started motioning with her hands. He had no idea what sort of message she was trying to send, but it seemed like a warding off gesture, and he backed up. Maybe she was deaf, only spoke in ASL?

"Uh, sorry. I'll just… go look myself…"

Stiles couldn't help but look back, her gaze determined, still not blinking, as she smacked her hands against each other, back to front, thumb of one crossing over the other as they hit together. She followed it with a looping gesture around one finger, another round of the hand smacking gesture, and then ran her thumb under her chin and outwards. Then started repeating it faster.

The library suddenly seemed eerily quiet.

Stiles headed back to their study table.

"Okay, guys, the weirdest thing just happened to me…"

But Allison and Scott weren't working on homework. They both stared at him, repeating the same strange sign language as the librarian, doing the collection of gestures over and over again, speeding up each time.

Stiles wanted to laugh, hoping that would stop whatever joke everyone was playing on him, but his eyes caught sight of the other students around, all facing him now, all doing the same weird hand motions.

"Oh…okay… I'm going to… I'm…" He was struggling to breathe, struggling to stand, and he found himself stumbling backwards towards the exit.

Before he could make it out, he was collapsing towards the floor and there was a ringing in his ears, a loud buzzing that blocked out everything else.

And then he heard his name being called repeatedly.

His head snapped up, only to find himself sitting back at his study table, Allison and Scott watching him in concern.

"Stiles? You okay?" Allison asked seriously.

Stiles shook his head to clear his thoughts, pushing his sweaty hair off his forehead. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I just fell asleep for a second."

"Dude… you weren't asleep." Scott confessed worriedly.

Stiles furrowed his brow at that, not sure what to make of it, and looked down at his notebook.

Instead of the homework he'd been slaving over, it was all marked over with the words 'wake up' repeatedly across the page in all different ways. Capitalized, underlined, bolded, diagonal, spaced apart, every form of the words was glaring up at him, like a written curse.

Stiles put his head in his hands, exhaling slowly.

"We need to get the pack together. Figure out how to stop this." Stiles said. "I know we've been distracted, trying to deal with our regular lives and enjoy the quiet in the supernatural world, but this can only end in disaster. What happens when me or Allison starts hallucinating when we're driving a car? Or Scott, if you transform uncontrollably in public? Or walking by a park full of kids? We're not just a danger to ourselves anymore."

"Stiles is right." Allison agreed. "We can't put this off anymore."

Scott sighed but nodded. "I'll call everyone and get them to meet us tonight."

"Kira's mom might know something. Remember how furious she was when she heard we had given power back to the Nemeton to save our parents? She knows something about its history." Allison said as she sat next to them at the table.

"Deaton was the one who instructed us on the whole sacrifices and consequences. He probably has a clue. Maybe there's a reason for our effects being as they are—they're not some generic symptom. It's unique to each of us. Maybe there's some hidden meaning in each that we have to figure out." Stiles suggested.

"All right. Tonight we'll try to figure things out." Scott agreed.

Stiles nodded and ripped out his notebook page, planning on attempting the equation one more time before waiting for Lydia.

But when he looked at his textbook to copy out the equation once more, he couldn't understand the words.

He read the instructions repeatedly.

Tsaet het omdainm fo chae utcnfino lebwo.

Scanning the rest of the page, he couldn't decipher a single word in the wreckage of letters.

He threw his pencil irritably at the page, stretching his back over the chair as he covered his face with his hands. It wasn't the first time recently that he ran into a dyslexic issue. But that didn't give him any sort of reassurance.

All he could think was that you can't read in dreams.

As was typical these days, the pack met at Derek's loft, since it was private and more than big enough for the group of them.

Explaining what had been happening to them was a little more awkward than any of them would've liked, but it had to be done, and the others looked concerned at the news.

Derek simply stood in brooding silence, as usual, whereas Isaac's eyebrows made friends with his hairline.

"So like when you nearly shot me in the head in the fall, completely out of the blue, that's happening again?" he asked.

Allison nodded. "I haven't even picked up my weapons lately, because I can't keep my hands steady when I try let alone have any hope of aiming properly. But I've had episodes of thinking I'm in the morgue, getting chased by a pissed off murderous Kate or having her taking out my organs in an autopsy, only to find myself in the middle of the street or from Point A to Point B with no memory of how I actually managed to do so."

"You didn't mention you ending up in the middle of the street." Scott said seriously, reaching out for her hand.

She shrugged, intertwining their fingers and squeezing apologetically. "Sorry. I was fine. It was just my street, so pretty low traffic. I had had the vision when I was in my room, and somehow I made it down the elevator, through the lobby and outside into the street. I have no idea how."

"What about your transformations, Scott? Has it just been uncontrollable shifts or are you blood-thirsty again like you were when you first turned?" Derek asked.

Scott shook his head. "So far, I haven't transformed fully. I… I haven't tried on my own. I don't know what will happen if I try, if I'll have any control or will just go on a murdering spree. Or maybe I can't even do it. But it's not just that. I've been seeing things too, my shadow shows I have claws out or a full alpha body like Peter's, but I'm still normal. I don't know what any of it means."

"For me, it's nightmares, mostly. Both when I'm asleep and awake. Dreams within dreams within dreams. Screaming myself awake, vivid visions during the day, all coming back to the Nemeton."

Scott took over from there, catching Stiles' look.

"We stopped by to talk to Deaton before we came here. Relayed the sign language in Stiles' latest dream. He said there's a door open in each of our minds. Basically, when we crossed from consciousness to the sort of hyperconsciousness, it opened a door. And now it's still ajar and we need to find a way to close it. As soon as possible."

"We don't really know anyone else who has had a near-death experience and come out of it seeing things, but if anyone has any suggestions on what we should do from here, please speak up. In the mean time, we would appreciate you guys keeping an extra eye out. We have no idea what kind of supernatural enemy may take advantage of this issue."

"If I may… I think what you guys are going through sounds like Bardo." Kira piped up.

"Bardo?" Allison repeated.

"Yeah. It's a Tibetan word for 'in-between state'. The state between life and death. There are different progressive states, where you can have hallucinations. Some you see, some you just hear. And you can be visited by peaceful or wrathful deities, which explains Kate."

"Wrathful deities?" Isaac inquired.

"Like demons."

No one looked impressed about that answer.

"If there are different progressive states, what's the last one?" Allison asked, knowing there wasn't really a great option lying ahead.

Kira swallowed. "Death. You die."

Scott clasped his hands together. "All right. So that settles it. We need to figure out a way to close the doors in our minds. Anyone have any suggestions?"

He was only met with silence.

Stiles sighed. "We're going to have to do some more research on Bardo. Think you can check the beastiary on that wrathful deity part?" he added to Allison.

She shrugged. "I can try."

Before anyone else could speak, Stiles' phone rang.

Seeing the Caller ID, he picked up in surprise. "Lydia?"

Derek looked at Scott. "Have you figured out if she has shown any supernatural signs yet? She's really immune?"

Scott shrugged. "As far as I know, she hasn't done anything out of the ordinary."

"Wait, Lydia, slow down. Tell me where you are. What do you see?" Stiles was saying into the phone, grabbing his jacket and pulling his arms through the sleeves.

Everyone's eyes were on him now.

Lydia's voice remained firm, but he could detect a subtle quiver in it. "I-I don't think I'm that far from my house, or yours. The houses look similar. But I was driving to the library to see if they had a book on thermodynamics that I could use for my project, and when I got out of the car I was here. I-I don't know why. But I'm down by this lake, and there's a house on the hill, so I figured I must have come from up there. But on my way up, I saw something glittering in the grass under this bush and I picked it up… and it's a necklace. And there's blood on it. I thought it was just tarnished, but it's definitely dried-on blood… I think it's been lost for a while, but do you think I should call the police?"

She was rambling, clearly distressed, and Stiles pieced together what she was explaining.

"What's on the necklace?"

"Um, an H with a blue gemstone on either side. Looks like sapphire."

Stiles closed his eyes. "Is there a mini lighthouse on the dock behind you? And a dirt path leading down to it that has white marble rocks as stepping stones? And double-doors near the house that look like they would lead to a cellar?"

"Uh, yeah…"

"Don't move, Lydia. I'm on my way." He hung up the phone and grimaced at the group. "Sorry to cut this short. I've got to go."

"What's going on?" Allison demanded.

Stiles knew he wasn't getting out of explaining. "Lydia was on her way to the library and somehow ended up somewhere completely different. She ended up at a lake and found some evidence of a previous murder case."

"What murder case?"

"It wasn't actually a murder. It was a sacrifice."

Scott understood immediately. "She found Heather's necklace. The one she was wearing when—"

"Yeah, when she became the first virgin sacrifice." Stiles confirmed. "She's freaking out, I'm sorry, I've got to go."

He left the surprised pack, jumped into his jeep, and drove the old route to his childhood friend's house.

Her family had since moved away, too distraught to imagine living in the same house she had been kidnapped and murdered from. They'd never know the truth of why she was killed—it was hard to say if it was better that way or not. It was a new family living there now, oblivious to the house's painful past.

Stiles parked and saw Lydia's car down the street, his mind swirling with what the hell this meant. How did Lydia end up here, and all the way down the hill without having a clue that she wasn't in the right place?

"Stiles!" Lydia called, spotting him immediately.

He jogged down the hill, grasping her arms as he looked over her face. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, but he could see the dried tears on her face. "I'm fine." She lifted the necklace and placed it in his hand. "See the red bit?"

He swallowed painfully, bobbing his head once in acquiesce.

His mind flashed back to that night, the necklace illuminated against her pale skin in the wine cellar, her strapless dress accenting her cleavage well enough that he didn't pay much attention to her jewelry. The only reason he was aware of it was because he knew it so well. It was the necklace he had given her when they were kids. He had seen her wear it many times before, but he had a feeling she was wearing it especially that night for him. To convince him that what they were about to do was a good idea.

Except, of course, it never ended up happening.

"Stiles?"

He wiped at his face, embarrassed to find his eyes had filled with moisture. "I'm sorry. I know whose necklace this was."

"You do?"

Stiles nodded. "You see that house up there? That was Heather's growing up."

"Heather? The one who—" She didn't need to finish the sentence.

He corrected his throat awkwardly. "Yeah. She was wearing this that night. I knew she had been dragged away from the house, so it makes sense that this was still out here. I hadn't even realized it was missing from evidence."

"I'm so sorry." Lydia murmured, stroking his arm comfortingly.

He held the necklace up, admiring the sparkle still in the gemstones and metal. "I gave this to her for her birthday when we were kids. We were a lot closer then, when my mom was around. My mom, of course was the one who picked it out. What eight year old knows what to get their friend that's a girl? My mom told me I should make that year a special one, and splurged on the necklace, getting one with her real birthstone. Heather's mom was upset that we spent so much, but I was happy because Heather fell in love with it instantly. She wore it all the time. My mom's health wasn't the best then, but it got progressively worse, and soon she was gone. Me and Heather didn't stay as close, but we'd see each other sometimes, like when she'd throw a big birthday party and stuff."

He shook his head, shaking out the memories of the simpler times, and sighed. "I'll give it to my dad. See if they can clean it up and return it to the family."

Lydia nodded.

"Come on, let's get you out of here." he told her, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her up the hill.

Her eyes swept the area, her lip between her teeth, and Stiles knew her mind was racing for a glimpse of a reason for why she was there.

He didn't know what sort of words of comfort he could offer. He had no idea how she had found the place, let alone why.

"Do you want to hangout for a bit? Get a milkshake or something?" he offered, figuring it probably wasn't a great idea to have her on her own worrying about something she couldn't explain.

"I think I'll just go home." she said distantly, mind clearly far away.

He stopped her before she could leave, grasping for a way to turn things around. "Hey. You're in a new town. Getting lost isn't anything to be ashamed of. You'll figure it out."

"It wasn't like that, Stiles." she said, her face full of determination. "I knew how to get where I was going. I was going that direction. And then it's like autopilot in my brain took over. I was walking towards what I thought was the bookstore, looking at my phone, trying to figure out which book would best fit my project topic, only to nearly stumble on a rock. And then I look down and realize I was somewhere completely different, unable to recognize where I was. It… I don't understand it. Am I losing it?"

Stiles shook his head. "No, no, of course not." He wasn't about to offer that, out of the two of them, he definitely was the one lacking in the sanity department.

"I just need sleep. I should go. Thanks for coming." Lydia muttered, pulling away from him and getting into her car.

Stiles didn't know what else to say. He simply watched her drive away.

It was hard to offer words of comfort when you had no idea what was happening either.

Lydia wasn't sure what to make of what happened to her the few nights previous, when she ended up finding murder evidence instead of a book, but she was trying not to think about it too much.

It wasn't something that could be explained—she clearly remembered leaving her house with the library destination in mind, the normal route mapping in her head. She didn't know how her body followed a different map that lead her to somewhere foreign and caused her to stumble on something relating back to Stiles' past of all things.

It only served to make her warier of what he and the other two were keeping from her. She wasn't an idiot—coincidences only went so far. The secret felt like it was at her fingertips, that if she pushed a little further, it would be unveiled to her.

But she was starting to wonder if she wanted to know. Something was telling her that she might be better off not knowing. That maybe what she overheard at Thanksgiving, that she was better off not being involved in the mess, was right.

Still, her curiosity was peaked, and all she could do was wait out the right opportunity.

But when she was around Stiles, her lips seemed to seal. The dreadful feeling, that she was better off not knowing, intensified to the point of her having trouble keeping up conversation casually.

It made her frown, not wanting whatever was going on to interfere with their friendship, but not really sure what to do about it.

He would try to talk to her, and she would keep her answers short and concise, pretending to be busy with homework or reading. It was easier than trying to act like nothing was wrong. And she really didn't think telling him what she was feeling would help.

She didn't want Stiles to think she didn't trust him, or worse, that she was afraid of him. She wasn't. She trusted he had a very good reason to keep whatever it was to himself. But she couldn't deny what her gut was telling her.

"Hmm?" she asked, having zoned out with her thoughts, but heard the barest of whispers tickling her ears.

"What? I didn't say anything." he said amusedly.

She flushed. "Oh. Sorry. A little too into my reading."

He smiled, turning back to his work.

She had gotten used to being around him a lot, but she couldn't help her eyes from tracing the angle of his jawline, enjoying the curve of his cheekbone and slope of his nose. He was an attractive guy. His dark hair was so soft, she knew from experience, and she longed to run her fingers through the strands—

Another series of whispers, like wind causing branches to scrape against a window, sounded, and Lydia frowned. She had been observing Stiles enough to know that he hadn't said anything again, and it was just the two of them home in his bedroom.

She focused back on her work, subconsciously breathing quieter, trying to pick up the sound again.

'Let me in'.

Lydia jumped at the words, startling Stiles next to her.

"You okay?" he asked, face showing his concern.

She corrected her throat, standing up. "Um, yeah, sorry. Just remembered I need to get home. Promised my mom."

"Oh. Okay, sure. I'll walk you out." he said, pushing off the floor too and getting to his feet.

"No! Um, I mean, no, no that's okay. Thank you though. I know my way out." she said with a forced smile.

He was observing her carefully, the way he always did, like he could see into her thoughts.

"Sure you're okay?"

"Yes. Absolutely." Lydia said with more conviction.

"All right. We still on for Sunday night?"

She inwardly cringed. She forgot she invited the three of them over for a movie night. It was a college assessment day on the Monday, so there were no classes. Seemed like a good night to take advantage of, since her mom was going to be gone for the night, returning in the early morning for work. She had given the clear for Lydia to have a few friends over if it was only a few friends.

"Yes. Yeah, of course. I'll see you then, okay?"

Before Stiles could respond, Lydia disappeared.

Lydia tugged at her dress on Sunday evening, eyes on the mirror. She had thrown on a casual blue with white polka-dots dress she had picked up a couple weeks ago with Allison. She pulled a waist belt around it, judging the new addition with her lip between her teeth.

She glanced over at the clock. The others would be arriving soon. Her mom was heading out of town to visit her boyfriend for the night and had already reminded her to restrict the get-together to just the four of them. Lydia had promised her she would—her big party throwing days were more a thing of the past.

Lydia returned to her bed, picking up the textbook she had left open, and considering trying to squeeze some work in before her guests arrived. She had enough time to at least make a little progress.

As usual these days, her mind drifted, her hand falling to the side of her body that had been torn open the previous month. She flipped to a new page in her notebook, scratching her pencil along the paper, mindlessly drawing lines and angles as she thought back to that night.

She still had so many unanswered questions. Memories of that night still haunted her dreams—those glowing yellow eyes hiding in the shadows, the flurry of fur and claws and teeth, Stiles screaming at her to run. She still woke up in a cold sweat, remembering the consuming fear that hit her right before the beast did.

No one had really given her a straight answer for what animal it had been that attacked her, but there was something more to it. She felt like she was missing something. She wasn't sure what, or even where to start searching for an answer, but she felt as if someone had skipped the last step in an instruction manual and the finished product wasn't what it really should be.

There was something deep in her telling her that it had to do with what secret her friends were keeping from her. And that her absent-minded driving the other day wasn't as simple as Stiles had tried to make it out to be.

She didn't blame him, or the others, but she didn't know what to do about the nagging feeling she was constantly fighting. Normally, she could let things go, but this seemed to be the lucky exception.

"Studying hard I see." an amused voice came from her doorway, and Lydia startled so much her textbook slipped off the bed onto the floor.

She looked over to see Stiles leaning against her door frame, raising an eyebrow at her, looking far too good in a plaid shirt and jeans.

Pushing her hair off her face, she swung her legs off the bed so he could sit next to her.

"Sorry to barge in. Your mom let me in on her way out. Told me I could find you up here."

Lydia started gathering her things. "Don't worry about it. As you can tell, you weren't interrupting much."

Stiles reached for her notebook, gazing at the tree laid out on the paper. "You're pretty good at drawing."

"I was just doodling. It's just a stupid tree." she dismissed, tugging it gently out of his hands and getting up to put her stuff away.

She could feel his eyes watching her closely, and she knew he was scanning her in that way he always did. Searching her thoughts, picking up on whatever external cues she gave off, and he no doubt would pinpoint that her brain was a little too full for casual conversation.

"Scott and Allison aren't with you?" she said, changing the subject.

"They're taking Scott's bike. They should be here soon."

Lydia nodded, grasping for something else to say.

His hand was slipping into hers before she could move away to attempt to tidy her already-clean room.

"I kind of headed over early in the hopes you and I could catch up. I feel like we haven't really had time to talk much lately, and I know I've been caught up with other stuff, so I know it's on me."

Lydia shook her head, but wouldn't look him in the eye. "Don't be silly. I've been busy with school too, and setting up the new house and, you know, getting to know the city." Or failing miserably, as the other day seemed to insinuate.

He nodded understandably. "Okay. So you're okay?"

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

She probably said it a little too quickly.

"I don't know, a lot has gone on in a short time. You seem a little distracted lately."

She shrugged. "Just trying to keep on top of everything."

Stiles licked his lips, turning to look at the floor since she would barely meet his gaze. "Well I'm here if you need anything, okay?"

Lydia closed her eyes at the hand squeeze he gave her.

She wanted to tell him about her nightmares. She wanted to confess everything to him, knowing he would know the right things to say to comfort her and make her feel better. But something else was telling her not to. Some force of nature had her mind leashed in such a tight grip that told her that telling him might make things worse. For her or him, she wasn't sure.

"Lydia?" Stiles asked in concern, no doubt reading her expression and seeing the amount of emotions on her face.

Words poured out of her mouth before she could stop them. "I have this really bad feeling. Like, dread. Only constantly. And it never goes away. It's just there all the time, sewn into my veins, telling me that something bad is coming. I don't know how to shake it. I tried telling my mom about it, but she said it's just anxiety, that I'm just stressed. Or PTSD from the attack. But it feels like something else. It feels… deeper than anything I've ever felt before. And it just keeps getting stronger. Like it's a warning."

As soon as she said it, she felt stupid. She knew she sounded crazy, or paranoid, or any number of unattractive things. And mixed with her distressed call the other night to him, stumbling upon murder evidence, and generally being spastic around him when they were studying that week, she knew she was digging herself an early grave.

"I'm sorry—I don't know what I'm even talking about—"

"Hey, don't do that, Lydia." Stiles cut in immediately. He looked so serious and concerned she found her lips sealing without any effort. "Have you noticed that it's stronger at certain times? Or…"

He was saved from finishing by a knock on the door downstairs, and Lydia stood up.

"That must be Allison and Scott."

Stiles stood up too. "We'll finish talking later?"

She nodded, forcing a grateful smile at him, before leading the way downstairs.

She didn't want to admit the truth—the answer to his question was she felt it the strongest when she was with him.