There are two different Allisons. The original Allison, the one that walked the forest and hall with the banshee, stands unmoving behind her, and the new Allison stands in the doorway, blocking their exit with a raised crossbow. They're wearing nearly identical outfits.
"Lydia," says the second Allison standing in the doorway, "Get out of here. This is a dangerous place." She moves her crossbow ever so slightly and Lydia can tell that she's lined up the first Allison in the bow's crosshairs.
"Wait," Lydia says quickly while putting her hands up.
"Lydia, move," says the new Allison, "She only wants to hurt you." She closes one eye while she speaks and tilts her head slightly. Lydia knows that look. She's about to fire her bow.
Well, fuck.
The Allison standing behind Lydia pushes the banshee to the side and rolls forward right as an arrow embeds itself in the wall in the exact the space the girl's two heads perviously occupied. Lydia catches herself on her hands and knees and looks up in time to see one Allison fling themselves into the other, knocking them both to the ground. Each girl has a grip on the crossbow, and they tumbling over the floor trying to shake the other loose. Lydia has no idea who's who until she realizes that the first Allison she met wore brown boots that were taller than this new Allison's blackish gray combat boots. It's familiar Allison wearing the brown boots that calls out to her.
"Go!" she says, "Lydia, keep moving. You have to keep moving!"
"I'm not leaving you!" Lydia says back as she knots her hands in her hair. What can she do? What should she be doing?
The Allison who called out manages to pull the crossbow from the other's grasp and immediately throws it across the room. Her counterpart takes advantage of the opening the throwing motion exposed and lunges forward so that her head smacks into the underside of the other hunter's jaw. It's the familiar Allison that got hurt. Lydia's hands start to shake. The Allison wearing the dark brown shoes reaches up to her injured mouth, it seems, for only a second, but that's all it takes for the other hunter to stand and deliver a solid kick to other Allison's face. Lydia watches with wide eyes as the first Allison skids backwards across the classroom floor. The Allison that still stands wipes at her face with the back of an arm, and walks over to retrieve her thrown crossbow, her black boots barely making a squeak on the tile floor. Lydia knows she can't let the hunter reach it, and thank god, the banshee has the upper hand in proximity to the fallen weapon.
Lydia springs forward and latches onto the edge of the bow. She swipes the bow back towards her and catches the running feet of the advancing hunter. Lydia uses the forward momentum of her own body to surge up and slams the bow that she holds with both hands into Allison's throat. The hunter stumbles back and coughs, but Lydia had been hoping it would put her down. The Allison that was kicked still lies on the ground behind them both, softy groaning as if waking from a dream. Lydia has to protect her. She moves so that she stands between the two Allisons, and puts her hands out in front of her, silently watching the Allison that is still standing and rubbing at the irritated skin of her neck.
"Give me the bow, Lydia," she says. Her voice sounds slightly raw but unbroken - it never wavers. The last time Lydia remembers hearing Allison use this tone was after the hunter's mother had died, and Gerard coiled round her heart and into her mind like a poison.
This Allison means business.
"I won't let you hurt her," Lydia says.
"You don't understand," Allison says, "That's not me, Lydia. I'm me." She holds a hand up to her chest with her words. "Would I let you do something this dangerous? You have to go back now. You can't continue." She takes a step forward. "Now give me the bow."
Lydia shakes her head slowly as she says, "No."
"Give me the bow," the hunter repeats while taking another step forward.
"Why can't I continue?" asks Lydia. She's walking in a slow semi-circle to maintain her distance from the approaching Allison. "Tell me why, and I'll give you the bow."
"Lydia," says Allison as she puts a hand in her hair and another to rest behind her back. "Are you serious? You know better than anyone the things you hide from yourself are the things that should stay hidden. Why would you need to put yourself through that?"
Lydia looks down at the bow in her hand, and then back at the Allison in front of her. She tightens her grip on the wood in her hand as she speaks, "I know you think you're protecting me. And you are, in a way." She can feel her heart pounding. Lydia can't believe she's going to do this. And she really hopes she's right. "But I don't need your protection. Not for this," she says, "And the real Allison would know that."
Lydia breaks the bow over her knee.
Allison lunges forward at the sound of the snapping wood, wielding a chinese dagger in the hand that was previously resting behind her back. Lydia catches the hunter's wrist before the blade can sink into her shoulder, but it does nick the skin.
"You don't know what you need protection from," Allison snarls as the two girls struggle with the blade. The hunter has Lydia pinned but most of Allison's strength is going into her arms to push the blade farther into the banshee's shoulder. Lydia bucks and frees a leg that she promptly uses to kick Allison in the chest and off of her.
Allison's chest is heaving as she sits up, and she's sporting a bloody mark from where Lydia's high heel connected with her breastplate. When she speaks again, her words come out in a rush of air. "What do you even know, Lydia? What can you even do other then find your dead friends?" The condescending and bitter tone in her best friends voice is brutal on Lydia's ears. Like some one's pouring water from the Arctic Ocean into her ear canal. Her head starts to hurt. She needs to stand up, but it's Allison.
Lydia's not prepared to fight the hunter like this.
Allison stands up and walks towards the banshee, her black combat boots barely making a sound as she crosses the space between them. She crouches down in front of Lydia and rest both elbows on her knees. Lydia takes a deep breath.
"You've never been a very good fighter, have you?" the hunter says with one side of her lips curling into the bitchiest smirk Lydia's ever seen.
"That's why she has me," says a voice as a classroom chair smacks across the face of the crouching Allison. The hunter goes down hard.
Suddenly hands are dragging Lydia up from the floor and Allison, the real Allison, is asking if she's okay.
Lydia nods, not trusting her words. She looks down at the other Allison who's completely knocked out on the class room floor.
"Can we do that?" she asks, motioning towards the passed out Allison, "What if it's cheating or something?"
"Hell if I know," says Allison, "Or care," she continues, "But I'm not waiting around to see if she wakes up. Let's go."
The two girls head into the hall way, and Lydia closes the door to the classroom behind them. She quickly imagines a key in her hands, then locks the door.
"Just in case," she says as she turns to follow Allison. The hunter nods at Lydia's good thinking as the banshee runs to catch up. When she reaches Allison, she sees the red mixed in with her hair at her temple. "You're bleeding," she says at the same time as she notices the hunter's split lip.
"I know," says Allison. She tries to smile with her words but it must put to much stress on her lips because she stops and quickly puts a hand to her mouth. "God, it's hurts too," she continues, "I thought I was already dead, how am I getting hurt." Allison turns to Lydia and her eyes get wide. "Fuck, you're hurt too."
Lydia follows her line of sight to the red stain on her left shoulder. "What?" she says, "No this is fine. I've been getting hurt the whole time, but it's just goes away." Allison just stares at her. "Seriously, it's about to go away," continues Lydia.
They keep walking down the hallway, neither one of them talking. Finally Allison sighs and stops. Lydia turns to the hunter with her eyes raised as to say 'spit it out'. Allison rolls her eyes in response.
"Okay, well, this is clearly different," says Allison as she runs her hands through her hair and lets them rest on the back of her neck. "This isn't going away. Look, there's more blood now," she says as she lifts a hand from her neck to gestures towards Lydia's shoulder.
"Huh," says Lydia as she looks down at the small but growing red on her clothing, "You're right."
"Does it hurt?"
"No," says Lydia, still mesmerized by the blood on her, "Not really."
"Then we should keep moving" says Allison, "It's just one more reason to hurry up and get you to final stage." She pushes the girl next to her forward, and Lydia turns with narrowing eyes at the hunter.
"For your information," says Lydia, "You're the one who made us stop in the first place."
"And now I'm making us go." says Allison, "Come on." She links arms with the banshee and starts to walk. Lydia purses her lips and lowers both of her eyebrows, but she lets herself be led down the hallway by the hunter anyway. Lydia's thankful that Allison never mentions how tightly she's holding onto the other girl's arm.
"I think I'm understanding what Deaton meant" says Lydia. Allison looks at her from the side of her eye. "The whole follow my truth thing," the banshee continues, "I have to remember what I've forgotten, but everything is gonna try to convince me that I won't be able to handle it." She tilts her head while she talks, her lips still pursed and her eyebrows still lowered. "But that's not my truth. I know I can do this," she says while turning to the side to face Allison. "I don't care what I find out as long as I can help people again. As long as I can help myself."
Allison doesn't say a word but simply leans more into the other girl. She breaks the silence after a minute. "Just for the record," Allison says, "You handled yourself pretty damn well in that fight."
Lydia brings her shoulders up and curls her lips in a satisfied grin, her eyes practically twinkling in her glee. "I did, didn't I?" she says while flipping her long hair.
"I think we're wasting time in the school," says Allison.
The girls had been wandering the halls of the multiple story building for a solid thirteen minutes, at least, if Lydia had to guess.
"You're right," she says, "So I guess the real question is. . . where should we be?" Lydia lets her voice drift at the end of her question and absentmindedly chews on her lip.
"Okay," says Allison, "Let's think." She's pacing and holding her hair back against her neck with both hands. She turns to face Lydia. "What if there's a connection we're missing between the you and the location?" she says while taking her hands from her hair to hold out at her sides. "I mean why would you just think to come here first?"
"I told you," says Lydia, "It's where I met you." She says the last word slowly, feeling her tongue form the sounds as clearly as her mind forms her next idea. "It makes me think of you." She spins in her heels to face Allison. "What if that's it? Deaton said I have to meet the people I hold in my heart. What if I can only meet them where I remember them most?" Allison stops pacing and drops her hands to her side.
"It would explain how we got here in the first place and why the school is practically dead now that we've meet the crazy version of me." Allison shakes her head. "I hope you don't really see me as that. . . intense," she continues as she bites a lip.
"Oh please," says Lydia. "Why do you think I made you my best friend in the first place?" Lydia continues as she walks over to Allison and holds out her hand. "Same deal as before. Close your eyes and don't let go."
She waits till the hunter has a firm grip on her hand to take a deep breath. This time will be tricky. She doesn't have a picture of where she's going. She's actually not sure where she's going. But Lydia feels something telling her to just close her eyes and go.
Allison is the first to speak when both girls open their eyes.
"We're still in the school," she says while turning to Lydia. "Did it not work?"
"I don't know," says Lydia. "I wasn't really thinking of a specific place. . ." Lydia's voice slows down and fades away as she catches sight of a red ball of yarn rolling down the school's hallway towards her and Allison. She lets go of the hunter's hand and turns to follow the yarn as it rolls past her.
"Lydia?" Allison says. "Where are you going?"
"You don't see it?" the banshee says as she increases her pace to keep up with steadily rolling red ball of string.
"See what?"
"The yarn," Lydia says, "The red yarn."
Allison looks around the hallway then turns back to Lydia with one eyebrow raised and a smile playing in the corner of her lips.
"No," says the hunter, "I don't see anything."
The ball of yarn is rolling faster and faster away from Lydia. She's nearly running down the hall to keep up. Suddenly, it stops in front of a classroom door, and Lydia can see that the string extends under the wood. It's connected to something behind the closed door. She puts a hand of the door knob. Allison is running down the hallway towards her. The hunter has lost her smile, and her eyes are narrowed.
"Lydia," Allison says, "Wait for me. Don't open the door yet."
Lydia hears her, but she doesn't process the words. She wants to know what's behind this door. Where is the red yarn taking her and why is it so familiar? She throws the door to the classroom open.
It's a room with slate blue walls covered in news articles and pictures. Red, yellow, and green yarn is tangled across the walls, connecting certain scraps of paper with others. She knows this room.
"Allison," she says, "It's Stiles's room." She waits for the girl to answer her, but there's nothing. "Allison?" she says while turning around to look for the hunter. Instead of a school hallway, Lydia sees the Stilinski's hall behind her. She's not in the school at all anymore.
Shit. She'd lost Allison.
Lydia walks over to the red ball of yarn that's sitting in the middle of the room. She picks it up and plays with the yarn's frayed end as she surveys the room.
"Don't unravel that," a familiar voice says from the hallway, "It took me forever to get it into an actual ball shape." Lydia turns around and holds out the ball of yarn to Stiles. He takes it from her hands as he walks past her to sit on his bed. He tossing the yarn back and forth between his two hands, his eyes never leaving the red blur. "So I guess we need to talk, huh?" says Stiles without looking at Lydia.
"I guess so," she says. Stiles flops back on to his bed and stares at his ceiling with a long sigh.
"I can't believe you're doing this," he says with his arms stretched back in a firm clasp over his head. The ball of yarn sits forgotten next to his side.
"I have to do this," Lydia says. Stiles looks at her from the side of his eye and snorts.
"No," he says, "No, you really don't." He covers his eyes with his right hand. "Lydia," he groans, "It's going to change things. Everything."
"Only for me," she says as she walks over to sit on the bed next to him. Stiles raises his hand from his eyes to peek at her as she folds her legs underneath her body.
"It's going to change everything for everyone," he says once she's situated on the bed. "It's going to change us."
"Us?" says Lydia. Stiles huffs and sits up, turning his back to her.
"Yes, us," he says as he rushes from the bed in a flurry of limbs. He's standing now, holding his head with both hands. "You don't even remember it, and you're still acting strange around me." He starts to move his fingers through his hair. "Once you remember, you'll never look at me the same way again."
"Remember what?" she says. Her mouth has a hard time forming the words.
"I can't tell you," he says, "And if I could, I wouldn't." He drops his hands from his head, and sits next to her on the bed. "You don't have to remember. We can find others ways to help you hear the voices without remembering."
"Stiles," she says, "I want to remember."
"Why?" he says. His voice quivers like the string of Allison's crossbow after the hunter fires an arrow. "Why do you want to know something that can only hurt you?"
"I'm not afraid of getting hurt," she says softly, "But I'm terrified of not knowing." Stiles shakes his head at her words.
"You always have to have control, don't you?" he says, "Even if means losing what you have now, it'll be worth it to you. As long as Lydia Martin's calling the shots, we'll all be fine. Is that what you think?" His tone builds up to a harsh crescendo. "You think you're the Alpha now?"
Lydia stands up from the bed at Stiles accusation.
"I think I know what's best for me. I don't need anyone to make my decisions," she says while looking down at the still sitting boy, "Not you, and certainly, not Scott." She turns to walk out the door but Stiles grabs her by the arm. Lydia's whips her head around, her eyes narrowed at his audacity. "Let go," she says. Stiles shakes his head, and pulls her closer. His grip on her upper arm is extremely painful.
"You're going to end up all alone, Lydia," he says, "No one will believe you even if you do manage to recover what you've lost. You think I'll trust you more than Scott?" Lydia tries jerking her arm free again, but Stiles hold on her is unrelenting. "Why would anyone believe you over a True Alpha? You're only useful when we need to find a dead body."
"We're about to put her powers to use if you don't let her go right now," says a cold voice from the hallway. Lydia looks over her shoulder at Allison. The hunter's mouth is set in a firm line, and her eyes are flashing a dangerous warning to the boy holding the banshee by the arm.
"Allison," says Stiles, "Of course you brought her to hide behind." He drops his hand from Lydia's arm with his words and steps back with a shrug. "Well, I guess you two should get back to it then." He keeps his eyes blank as he speaks, "You've got a lot of lives to ruin."
Lydia turns from him without saying a word and the two girls walk through the bedroom door. Once they get outside the Stilinski home, Allison whips around to face her. She' s clearly irritated with the banshee.
"I told you to wait!" says the hunter, "What if I hadn't found you? Lydia, this is a dangerous place. We've already established that you can get hurt in it."
"Please don't lecture me," says Lydia, "Everyone I meet keeps lecturing me." Allison opens her mouth, but before she can talk, both girls are distracted by a low animalistic cry.
The hunter's eyes grow wide.
"Was that a howl?" she says. Lydia nods quickly. "It sounded close by," continues Allison, "We can't stay here. Lydia, we need to go now." Lydia nods again and holds out her hand for the hunter to grab. She closes her eyes, and thinks of going anyway but where she is now.
Lydia's shocked to find herself in the burnt Hale house when she opens her eyes. Allison immediately tightens her grip on Lydia's hand. Of course he was in her heart. Deaton had said she'd encounter the good and bad. Lydia had been naive to think she wouldn't meet him again.
"Peter," says Allison. Her lips are in a tight line.
"Of course," says Lydia, "Peter." She pronounces his name sharp and fast. Like a fly she mistakenly drank with her sip of soda and now she's got to spit it out.
"Do hold the praise, ladies," says a silky voice from the shadows behind them. Allison spins around and drags Lydia behind her as Peter's form slowly emerges in the faint light. "Relax, hunter," he says, "I'm not here to fight. Unlike you apparently." He curls his mouth up and lowers his chin while watching Allison with clearly inquisitive eyes. "Who knew you were capable of such viciousness towards your dear little banshee."
This time Lydia squeezes Allison's hand. She steps forward to stand equal with the hunter, then leans over and says "He's baiting you. Ignore it."
Allison whips her head to face Lydia. "I know he's baiting me," she says, "But it's Peter. I hate Peter." Lydia rolls her eyes as Allison shrugs her hand away and takes a step forward. "You know that wasn't really me," She says to the werewolf, "Just like I know you're not really Peter." Allison raises her chin with her words, as if daring Peter to prove her wrong.
Peter sucks his teeth in with 'tsk' sound and shakes his head. He looks up at the two girls, his eyes glinting like polished blades. "You both keep making the same mistake," he says. His tone carries way too much satisfaction. "Just because I'm not me, doesn't mean I'm not real. In a sense, I'm much more real to Lydia than the Peter you know." He takes a step forward with his words. His eyes are pinned to Lydia. "Isn't that right, Lydia Martin?"
Lydia raises an eyebrow. She wants to shut him up, but she's not sure how to do it. Peter flicks his eyes over to Allison.
"The fact is, sweetheart," he says, "It might be an unflattering portrait, but the vicious hunter in the school was a much you as anything else. Every interaction Lydia's ever had with you has gone into that mental construct which would include your. . ." He waves his hand as if it well help him find the right words. "Not so ideal personality trait of nearly killing your friends under the guidance of crazed relatives."
Allison narrows her eyes, but Lydia speaks before the hunter has a chance to respond.
"You're trying to distract us," she says. Peter looks confused.
"From what?" he says, "This burnt down house?" He looks around at the ruins of his home. "I'd like to be distracted from it, honestly."
"You don't want me to reach my memories."
"Oh, that," Peter says. He lowers his brow and tightens his lips as if he's thinking. Then he says, "Honestly, I could care less about it. Remember. Don't remember. Handle it. Don't handle it." He shrugs with his words, "Die. Don't die. It doesn't have much to do with me."
"He could want you trapped," Allison says to Lydia.
"Except if I wanted that," says Peter, "I'd just fight you. And I promise I'd do a lot more damage than a teenage girl with a dagger." He's looking right at Lydia's injured shoulder as he speaks. "Lucky for you, I have no interest in the situation either way."
"I think you're lying," says Lydia. She takes a step towards him with her words. She tilts her head and narrows her eyes. "You want me to remember." Lydia purses her lips with her words, "Somehow, it's going to benefit you and that's why you don't want to stop us."
"My, my, my," says Peter, "Aren't we getting clever?" He's smiling but his mouth seems to be too taunt for the expression to be a genuine one. He appears to give up on it all together and allows the smile to drift into a sneer. "Is it still worth going through knowing that you'll be helping me?" His eyes seem to light up as he speaks, "Who knows? I could already be planning the death of someone close to you. Then you would have helped kill three people."
Lydia's heart sinks into her stomach. She won't let anyone else die. Allison must have noticed the banshee's deflation because she reaches out a hand to rest on Lydia's shoulder.
"If he's not going to try to stop us," says Allison, "Then let's leave now."
Lydia nods. The girls ignore Peter's laughter as they walk out the crumbling door of the Hale house.
"You look nervous," says Lydia. The two have been walking for about five minutes now through the Beacon Hills woods. Allison stops fidgeting with her jacket's zipper and looks at Lydia.
"I'm not nervous," she says and goes back to zipping and unzipping her jacket.
"Allison," says Lydia.
"Okay," says the hunter as she drops her hands from her clothing. "I'm just weirded out by Peter. I know we're doing the right thing, but knowing Peter wants you to remember. . . " She lets her statement settle unfinished between them.
"Don't worry. It's just another tactic," Lydia says, "You and Stiles warned me against remembering because I trust you. I don't trust Peter, so any warning he could gave instantly loses credit."
"So he said he wants you to remember so you won't want to remember anymore?"
"Exactly," says the banshee, "I mean who would want advice from their worst enemy anyway?" She finishes with a flip of her hair.
The woods are strangely silent, but Lydia supposes wildlife isn't necessary in a dreamscape. The sun is beginning to set and the leaves in the trees take on a red hue in the receding light. The forest surrounding Beacon Hills isn't an inviting place in the real world so Lydia's less than thrilled about being in it at this exact moment. She can't help but think about the howl they heard outside Stiles's house.
"Do you think that was Peter howling?" she ask Allison.
The hunter looks at Lydia with her eyebrows drawn together. "Do you?" Allison says.
Lydia sighs before she answers, "No, I wish it had been though." She runs a hand through her hair quickly before she continues speaking, "I guess that means we have to meet my version Scott." She chews her lip and stares at the forest floor as she walks.
"I just hope it was your version of Scott," says Allison.
"We haven't been here for more than four hours, have we?"
Allison lifts her shoulders in a shrug. "I don't know. Time works differently in the mind," she says. "I wish I had my crossbow."
Lydia closes her eyes and imagines the hunter's bow in her hands. She waits until the wood feels solid in her grasp to open her eyes and hold out the crossbow to Allison.
"Here," Lydia says, "I'll feel better if you've got your bow too."
Allison reaches out for the weapon when a roar rips through the silence of the woods. The limbs of the surrounding trees shake, and both girls have to cover their ears from the deafening sound. The crossbow falls to the ground between them.
"Arrows," says Allison as she grabs the weapon from the forest floor. "Quick, I need arrows."
Lydia tries to nod, but her whole body is quivering so the movement comes off more as a jerky head shake than a nod. She closes her eyes and imagines silver tipped arrows in a black bundle. Lydia hands them to Allison, the arrows clinking together in her shivering hands. She wraps her arms around herself and looks around the forest as Allison loads an arrow onto the crossbow.
"I don't see anything," says Lydia in a hushed tone.
"I can't see anything either," says Allison. The girls stand back to back and turn in a slow circle to sweep their eyes over the darkening woods. "We're losing the light too," continues the hunter, "This isn't good. He sounded really close."
"I am close," says a gravel filled voice. It rumbles out from the tree line and wraps around Lydia until her spine curls in and up with fear. Allison turns to face the voice that called out, her crossbow extended.
"Come out, Scott," the hunter says.
"So you can shoot me?" he says. "You think it'll hit?"
"Get behind me, Lydia," says Allison. "And stay close."
Lydia clutches onto the hunter's jacket. "This is a bad idea," she mumbles, "This doesn't feel right." She watches as two red eyes appear next to a tree only fifty feet away from her and Allison. It's hard to see in the fading light, but Lydia's positive he's not transformed yet.
"You should listen to Lydia," says Scott as he takes a step forward. "Don't try to fight me, Allison."
The hunter lets her arrow fly towards his head instead of responding to his words. Scott catches and snaps the arrow in half with one clawed hand. When he looks up at the two girls, his face no longer contains the smooth lines of humanity. Lydia barely sees him move, but suddenly Scott is no longer there and Allison is down on one knee. The banshee watches red drip down the arm that Allison uses to keep her body supported.
"NO!" Lydia screams as she collapses next to the hunter. Her eyes are already blurring from her tears. "Allison," she says.
"It's okay, I'm not hurt that bad," says the Allison through clenched teeth. She's clutching her shoulder but Lydia can see the fresh gash under the hunter's hand. It looks worse than the hunter lets on. "I can't run though," continues Allison, "You need to go, Lydia. Please go."
"I told you," says the banshee, "I'm not leaving you."
"I'm already dead, Lydia!" Allison tone is sharp, and it cuts through Lydia. "Please, just go." The hunter won't look at her. "I'll never talk to you again if you don't leave now."
"You're lying," says Lydia. She ignores the sound of footsteps closing in behind her. If she can just get Allison up, she knows they'll be okay. She'll imagine them somewhere else, and then she'll imagine a first aid kit, and everything will be fine.
"Lydia, go!" says Allison as she pushes the banshee's approaching hand away from her.
"She's not going anywhere," says Scott. Lydia can tell he's standing directly behind her when he talks. She looks over her shoulder at the Alpha towering above her. Her eyes are stuck on the blood coating his claws.
"You attacked her," Lydia says with wide eyes, "You really attacked her." Scott crouches down in front of her and lifts a bloody hand to wipe the away the tears sneaking down Lydia's cheek. She can feel the red streak he leaves on her face as he draws his hand back.
"To protect you," he says, "All she's done is hurt you. First she left you, and now she's leading you on some wild goose chase.
"I want my memories back," says Lydia. Scott curls his lips at her. His face looks awful wearing the sneer.
"Sounds like something you should bring up with the real me," he says with a small shrug, "Too bad, I'm about to make sure you never get that chance."
"Get away from her!" says Allison.
Scott ignores the hunter completely. His eyes are focused on Lydia with unwavering intent. Lydia feels the dread coiling in her stomach as she claws skim over her side. The feeling swells and pushes up her throat until she's forced to give the emotion a sound. The scream tears out of her throat with the force of a hurricane. Lydia feels dazed in its wake.
She's about to die in her own mind. How does that even work?
"Lydia!" a boy's hoarse voice yells out to her. She turns in time to see Stiles skid over the earth in his attempt to reach her.
"Scott, for fuck's sake, do something!" Stiles says. His voice cracks during his frantic talking.
Lydia wonders why he thinks this Scott will listen to him when a blur crashes into the werewolf crouched in front of her. The Alpha tumbles across the forest floor before looking up with narrowing eyes at the intruder who dared to attack him. She can see the surprise in his eyes when he's staring at his own face. Lydia is silent as she watches the two fully transformed Scotts circle one another. She doesn't even say anything when Stiles pulls her up from the ground and into his arms. Lydia looks over at Allison who's still clutching her bleeding shoulder.
The hunter's face is practically frozen in horror - her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open as she watches the two werewolves fight. They didn't make it in time.
The real Scott is in Lydia's mind.
