So, first of all, I'm really happy that you all liked the last chapter... I was really worried there for a second, since I changed my mind last minute... This was going to be the last chapter, because I don't like dragging out stories for longer than need be, but changing my mind about the whole alpha story gave me room to continue.. and I don't really want to end it just yet, since we still have like a jillion more months until the new season and I'm not going to have anything else to write for Stiles and Lydia after this... so... thank you again, and I am currently outlining the next half of the story :) OH and all my regular TV shows are starting back up soon, and I may feel the need to write tons and tons of fanfiction for them, so this is just a heads up to anyone who gets a message when I post a new story... (you've been warned)

"But he's going to be alright, isn't he?" Allison pressed, ignoring Stiles jab at her side. "Ms. Argent, I don't know what else I can tell you, he needs to rest, minimal excitement. Please." Allison pouted but bit her tongue from spitting out the rest of her questions. "Can we go sit with him, we won't talk, promise!" Stiles mumbled, holding up his free hand in a scouts honor sort of way, the other was wrapped securely around Allison, so she wouldn't leave his side. From the moment the two met up outside of the vets office, she was acting like a crazy person. Dr. Deaton was taking too long, he wasn't explaining to her what had happened to Scott, if he was going to be okay. Even when he did come out to talk to the teens, he was vague and distant. He wanted to ask them just as many questions, probably more, but it wasn't the time or place. The elder man nodded and walked to his front office as the two headed into the back room. They were met with the sight of Scott laying helpless on a cold metal table. Deaton had used a sack of shredded news paper as a makeshift pillow and had placed a thick gauze from the front left side of Scott's stomach wrapping it around twice, over his torso, stopping the bleeding and letting him heal.

Stiles didn't know if there was different healing periods depending on what you were attacked by. The way Allison explained how that large Lionel character stabbed Scott from the back, had horrible images spinning around his head. He felt terrible that Allison was going through this. She didn't want to be apart of it from the beginning, and here they were, less than a month later, smack in the middle; bloody and unkempt. "Did my dad say anything on the drive here?" She whispered to Stiles while rubbing her long thumb across Scott's hand. Stiles shook his head. "No, he understands. I think." Allison sighed, her eyes never left her ex boyfriend who laid peacefully, sleep carrying him away from this awful place. "What happened, Stiles?" Her dark eyes met his light ones. "Peter tricked us." He shrugged. "He sent us there, ready to have them kill us all, and we let him run away like a coward." Stiles groaned. "Who's laughing now? Huh?" He rolled his eyes and Allison's brows furrowed. "We're all alive. That's the important part." Her eyes flickered back to his, gauging his reaction. She had no clue if they were all alright or not. If Scott was the only one who was hurt worse than an Alpha was. Stiles nodded. "We're all alive." He looked down. "But Jackson decided to stay with the alpha pack." Allison frowned. Though it wasn't a surprise. His mind was made up before the fight had even started. "How's Lydia?" Stiles shrugged. He really didn't know. He hadn't spoken to her in Argent's car, and barley looked at her when he left. "You haven't talked to her? Stiles, what if she needs you?" "Trust me, she doesn't. Scott needs me, Scott needs us." Allison licked her lips. Stiles didn't want to get into things with Lydia, nor did he want to start up a conversation about her while the two were hovering over their sick friend. He'd talk when he was ready. He always did. For now, they could sit in silence and worry about Scott, and what would happen now.

Lydia squeezed her pillow a little tighter. It still smelt of Jackson. She felt pretty foolish, mourning the loss of a boy she was about to break up with. But she had explained it to Stiles, she would always love Jackson. He was the first boy that ever made her feel things she never believed existed, and she was both incredibly happy for him and saddened by the loss of him. He was going to find out about his parents, the alphas were going to answer all the questions he had been reciting since the day he found out he was adopted, that the Whittemore's were not his biological parents. He was going to find who he was meant to be, like he always dreamed. She couldn't help but be proud of him for that. But Lydia was feeling terrible and all she wanted was to talk to Stiles, tell him that nothing that was said between her and Jackson changed what she was forming for him. But he wouldn't even look at her, and there was an unsettling feeling of finality in her heart. She squeezed the pillow tighter, burying her sorrows within it.

"Stiles! I started to think I'd never see you again!" Mrs. McCall grinned at the sixteen year old while letting him in. "I applaud you for knocking." She teased, while shutting the front door behind him. "Scott's in his room. I was just heading to work. I'm glad he won't be alone." Stiles smiled, though he wasn't sure how long this visit was going to take. Scott could kick him out a second after walking into his room, but Stiles had to try. Scott needed to know the truth. He said goodbye to Mrs. McCall and climbed the steps two at a time, and knocked on Scott's door. He heard a faint 'come in' and took a deep breathe before entering. "Stiles." Scott sounded surprised. But why would he? How many friends did he actually have? And with his super hearing, he had to have known it was the blue jeep from down the block. "Hey, how you feeling?" Stiles smiled awkwardly while shutting the door behind him. "Better, thanks." Stiles nodded while taking a seat at Scott's desk. "Look, things have been weird between us for weeks now."

Which was true, after the night from hell between the alphas and Derek's pack everyone kept to themselves. Scott was instructed to go to summer school and then directly home, Allison was trying not to care that Scott hadn't even called to thank her for saving his life, Derek and his pack kept out of sight; the alpha was still embarrassed for trusting Peter again, believing in what he said. The man had a way of making the most moronic statements seem more serious than the issues within the United States government. Stiles had kept to himself as well, trying desperately to figure out how to fix everything, and try not to feel hurt that Lydia hadn't spoken to him. He figured that she was still mourning the loss of Jackson's presence in Beacon Hills, but not even a text message from her left Stiles irritable. Though, he knew he did this to himself. And right now, he had to worry about Scott, and their friendship. Not Lydia, who he went into this summer vacation promising himself he'd forget. So two weeks flew by without any of the teens realizing. August was fast approaching, and with it, the last turn to their eventful and unbalanced summer.

"Sorry, I just didn't know what to say." Scott answered honestly. Stiles agreed. He had no idea what to say either. "Well you could call Allison, she really wants to hear from you." Stiles ordered. "Oh, did she tell you that." Scott rolled his eyes. His jealousy was at a boiling point. "Alright. I give up. Why do you keep fighting me on this? Why can't you just accept that Allison is my friend, and move on? She doesn't like me, okay!" Stiles pleaded, trying his hardest to reason with him. "Yes she does." Scott mumbled. "What?" Stiles asked, his brows furrowed. He nearly missed what Scott had said. "I said that she likes you, Stiles." "No, no she doesn't. She loves you, man. Okay, you should have seen her the night you got hurt, she was a mess." Stiles' voice was even. "I can smell it, Stiles. She may love me, but you're what's good for her. The kind of person her father wants her to be with. I seen the way he looked at you the night we talked at the Argent's. The night I found out that you decided to train with them. He likes you, more than he'll ever consider tolerating me. I can't compete with that, dude. She deserves someone normal." Scott was looking down at his sheets. Stiles had no idea he felt like this. He knew Scott was jealous of all the time that he and Allison had been spending together, but he never would have thought that it stemmed so far. And for Scott to say that Allison liked him, that he could smell it, it left Stiles feeling dizzy. He would never, ever like her that way, he couldn't.

"Scott, I need you to know that that doesn't change anything. You're my best friend, I would never do anything to jeopardize that." Scott managed a small smile. "I know that." He muttered. "But it's right in front of my face. And I thought now that Lydia was into you things would cool off but-" "Wait, what?" "What?" Scott asked, his genuine confusion etching his face. "Lydia's into me?" "Yeah, you knew, right?" "Another one of your wolf senses tingling?" Stiles cleared his throat. "Something like that." His lips twitched. Stiles sighed and let his head rest in the cup that his palms created while propped upon his thighs. Lydia had basically said it, hadn't she? That she would leave her boyfriend for Stiles. That was something that only happened in his dreams, like kissing her or holding her hand. Stiles couldn't help but feel cautious about the situation he was getting himself into. He had ever right to stay skeptical about Lydia Martin. Because, truth was, no matter how much he claimed to know her inside and out, when it came down to it, he was at a loss for a coherent thought when it came to what she was going to do next.

Scott was staring at Stiles, watching him map out his little problem inside his brilliant mind. He wished he could read things as clearly and as thoroughly as his best friend could. He also wished that he couldn't sense certain emotions that he had no right invading. The way Allison felt about Stiles was none of Scott's business. He knew he was just being stubborn, not going to her and thanking her, it was his way of keeping the inevitable from surfacing. Something was still there between them, something probably would always be there. He loved Allison, and he loved her enough to know he wasn't right for her. That loving someone different than him, someone human, whether it was Stiles or some other guy, was safer and better for her than loving him.

After Stiles left the McCall residence, he had every intention of finding Allison Argent. He needed to talk to her. This wasn't just for Scott anymore. If his best friend was right, and Allison could have feelings for him, he needed to let her know, she needed to know. Scott only had two ways of going about a conflict, do nothing, or freak out. He couldn't let Allison get in the middle of that. She couldn't like Stiles, she was too supportive of him and Lydia, she teased him like a sister. Everything that they had was merely looked at as something more than it was. And that was probably what Scott was doing, he was letting his emotions and his jealously cloud his very keen werewolf judgment. He was seeing what he wanted, and it was Stiles and Allison's job to fix it.

His father called on his way over to Allison's house. He debated on letting it go to voice mail, but Stiles was always one to have vivid and obnoxiously creative scenarios play out in his head if he didn't do something he should. His father could be in a ditch, or held at gun point, or in the supermarket and forgot which cereal was healthy for him. Stiles snatched up the phone and held it to his ear. "Hello, dad? Are you okay?" Mr. Stilinski sighed on the other end. "Stiles, where the hell are you?" "Uh, driving over to Allison's, I just visited Scott." "Come home, now." Then the line went dead. Stiles sighed and made a quick U turn. How was he in trouble? He had barley left the house in two weeks. He hadn't done anything that would make his father sound that tense on the phone.

After pulling into his driveway and headed up the side porch steps, Stiles cautiously entered his house. "Dad?" He called. Mr. Stilinski flew into the room. "Thank god." The relief on the sheriff's face was evident. "What's wrong?" "You're not going to believe me, come see for yourself." Was all he said while leading his son through the foyer and towards the living room. Sitting on the lumpy yet- more comfortable than it looks- couch was Lydia Martin. She was staring down at her hands, she was crying and looked so different from any other time Stiles had ever seen her. Lydia's usual gorgeous strawberry blonde curls were tied up in a high pony take, the strains straight. Some spars hairs draped down the side of her clean, makeup free face. Stiles could see the small peach colored freckles that dusted her nose from his place in the archway. She was wearing a thick sweater, probably one of her fathers that she cut the collar off. It tugged down her bare arm, reviling some of that soft glowing skin that he always itched to touch. Lydia was also in leggings, something she rarely wore. She did not look like a California girl in the dead heat of summer. He was glad that his father loved the air conditioning, or Lydia would seriously be breaking into a sweat. His father pulled him by the arm back into the hall. "She showed up about half an hour ago crying and looking for you. She hasn't said a word since. I didn't know what to do, son. I thought you'd be home sooner." Mr. Stilinski looked panicked. He had never dealt with an emotional young woman before, if you didn't count the ones he helped while working. That was his job, this was not. Stiles was almost glad that he never had a sister. How would his father handle that kind of pressure. Stiles gave a weak smile and patted his dad on the shoulder. "I'll take it from here, dad. Don't you have to get to work?" Mr. Stilinski nodded, though his attention was solely on the despaired sixteen year old in his living room. "Seriously dad, I got this. Go." Mr. Stilinski narrowed his eyes at his son. "No funny business, you hear me Stiles? I don't want you taking advantage of a girl who isn't in her right mind." Stiles just blinked. If anyone would be taken advantage of, it would be Stiles. "Okay dad, whatever you say. Be careful." Mr. Stilinski gave a curt smile and jogged down to his patrol car. Stiles locked the door behind him and headed to the living room.

"What the hell is going on, Lydia?" He asked, standing a good distance away from the girl. "Stiles?" She looked up at him, like she had no idea he came home. That concerned him. "Hey, what's wrong?" He asked, taking a seat next to her. Immediately her arms flew around his neck. "I've missed you." She mumbled into the material of his shirt. It tickled Stiles' skin. "That doesn't explain why you were crying." He pressed, gently. "Oh." She pulled away, wiping at some dampness under her eyes. "I've been doing that a lot, lately." She laughed. She actually laughed. "Lydia?" "Look, I know that I confuse you and you are probably right to want nothing to do with me, but I can't take it anymore. Which is annoying, since I am Lydia Martin for god sake, I don't need anyone." Stiles smirked. "I'm sorry. I was just giving you your space. Jackson just left. I imagine that it's hard for you, with him gone." "Yeah" She sniffed, looking at a piece of brown velvet on the armrest of the couch that was waring away. "It's hard, but not having you there is hard too, Stiles." He saw the anger in her green eyes. He hurt her, and she wasn't going to admit to that. Part of him didn't want her to.

If she was to cave, break down the small amount of mental sheet rock that was keeping them at a distance, Stiles didn't know if he'd be able to handle the outcome. He loved Lydia, that was never a secret, but her caring for him, coming to his house to say she actually missed him, it wasn't how things were supposed to be done. And that scared him. In some odd way, Stiles keeping the doubt and stubbornness in the back of his mind, the pieces of him that said Lydia could never like him, gave Stiles some sense of control in this pending relationship. It cleared his head a little more, and kept him leveled. He didn't have to let his guard down, didn't have to let her in. Not just yet. He was allowed to save his heart, because the way Stiles saw it, whatever this was, it wasn't going to last through the summer. The novelty would tarnish and he would be right back where he started. This prolonged the inevitable. For a short while, at least.

"Jackson's mom came by to see me today." Lydia mumbled, she had moved completely away from Stiles now, there was a slender fleck of light that passed between their knees. He wanted her to be closer. "She isn't handling Jackson leaving well." Stiles looked down. In the end, Mr. Argent being the honorable man he was told the Whittemore's the truth, that their son went in search of answers of his biological family. It hurt them, and Mr. Whittemore used every connection he had to find Jackson, but they were told when he found what he was looking for, he'd come back. "How are you handling it?" Stiles found himself asking, though he really didn't want to know. "I was better, I was." She looked into his eyes. "I accepted it, but then Amanda came, and-" She sighed. Stiles' stomach flipped with the mention of Jackson's mother. Being on a first name basis with a parent is serious stuff. With a family like the Whittemore's, and in a town like Beacon Hills, at least. Stiles wondered if Lydia would ever refer to his father as anyone other than the sheriff. "I told her that he needed to do this, because, come on! He totally did. But she's just really worried. Jackson's never been away from Beacon Hills before, without his parents or Danny, anyway. They think he's all alone." She pouted.

Stiles let his hand rest upon hers. "He's not alone, okay, Lydia? He's with people just like him. Daniel gave Derek his word that nothing would happen to Jackson." Lydia sluggishly nodded. "He's going to have to make the decision sooner or later, if he wants to train as an alpha and leave the pack, but for now he is just doing what he needs to. Just like you said." Lydia smiled, her eyes were still watery but she didn't look as miserable. "Stiles, I knew you'd know what to say." Her hand squeezed his, engulfing his warmth. "Want me to drive you home? It's getting pretty late." He asked softly. "Oh." She mumbled, staring at their hands. She awkwardly shifted on the lumpy brown couch, and Stiles swore he saw her blush. "Could I maybe sleep here tonight?" She asked feebly. She looked up into his eyes bravely for only a moment. "My mom's at her sisters in L.A. I don't want to be alone." She admitted. Stiles gulped. Having Lydia tell him that she liked him, that was okay. Having Lydia come to him because she was sad, that was okay too. Having Lydia ask to spend the night was making his heart race inside his chest threatening it to burst through. "Uh- um.." He stammered, blinking at her. "S-sure." Lydia smiled then. It was a really dazzling one. Like a smile someone would be stupid not to return, and Stiles wasn't stupid. They climbed the steps together, and Lydia waited outside while he changed, and threw everything from the floor into the nearest closet. He let her in with shaky hands and invited her sit on his bed. "I can take the floor, or the couch if you want." Stiles started, pulling down the comforter for her. "You don't have to be chivalrous with me Stiles, after dating a guy like Jackson it's pretty much wasted on me." She laughed and crawled onto the side he had folded down. "Stay with me." She whispered, and Stiles tried not to hear the plea in the undertone. He just sighed, switching off his bedside light and crawled in after her.

It was nice. Stiles never thought of sleeping in a bed with Lydia Martin before, shockingly enough. The only time it ever remotely crossed his mind was the day he checked on her after Peter Hale attacked the video shop. Seeing the nightgown she wore to bed, how sexy her hair looked disheveled. It was nothing like that now. Laying in the dark with Lydia Martin was comforting. He felt completely safe with her there, listening to her breathing beside him, feeling the way her hand met his with a small electric shock under the cool sheets. This was better than what Stiles would have ever been able to dream up, the real thing was always better. Both teens couldn't deny that they slept better that night than either had in those two weeks apart, maybe even better than they had all summer.