Here's this week's chapter! As always, I want to thank you guys for your reviews and likes. They really help me when I'm stuck!

Derek and Isaac buried Kate in her grave at Beacon Hills Cemetery, Isaac insisting on digging the grave since he was the only one who knew how to do it right. It took some time, and a call to the Sheriff to make sure no cops thought that they were grave-robbing – which was the exact opposite of what they were doing – but it got done.

After they were done, Derek dropped Isaac off at the McCall's, Derek needing to get back to the loft to check on Braeden and how she was doing. Malia had been waiting for him, assuring him that Scott was okay and sleeping in his room with Kira acting as his nurse.

Isaac turned his attention back to Malia, who was sitting on the edge of his bed.

"So…" she said, looking at him curiously. "Am I allowed to ask you why you know how to dig a cemetery grave?"

"I used to be a grave-digger, believe it or not," he admitted, sitting next to her on the bed. "My dad owned the cemetery when he was still alive, and I helped a lot."

"Oh," she nodded.

She was silent, and Isaac didn't know what to say to break it. Now that they didn't have a threat to worry about, the only thing they had was the awkwardness between them – or rather, the awkward sexual tension between them – and he wasn't sure how to navigate it.

"You like me, right?" she asked suddenly, looking forward. "I mean, you act like you do, and you smell like you do, but you've never said anything definite, so I'm really not sure…"

She trailed off, looking down at the floor and biting her lip. He stared at her for moment, unsure how to answer her question.

He liked her, he really did. But there was still that little voice in the back of his head that said it wasn't right, even though he knew that it was.

Apparently, he was quiet for too long, because she stood up and started walking towards the door. "You know what, forget I said anything. It was stupid."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "It's not. I – I do like you."

She stopped and nodded, slowly turning back around. "Well, you already know that I like you."

"Yeah," he said. "I do."

She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, took another deep breath, and opened her mouth again. "I don't…I don't want to sound like the stereotypical, insecure girl, but, uh…why do you like me?"

He looked at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

She sighed, walking back to the bed and sitting down, rubbing her hands together as she thought. He could smell the anxiety coming off of her, and his confusion grew.

"I've already been through the whole 'I like you, but I'm only dating you because I can't be with the person I really want,' and I don't wanna do that again," she admitted. "Don't get me wrong, I love Stiles and Lydia, and I think that they're perfect for each other. But…I don't know. The whole time that he was with me – he liked me – but he also thought that Lydia didn't feel the same way for him, and was trying to get over her the same time he was dating me. It doesn't feel too great when you realize that, you know?

"So, I guess what I mean is…do you only like me because I don't remind you of Allison?"

His stomach dropped as he looked at her, realizing what it must have looked like. There were a lot of girls in Beacon Hills, but she was the only one that he didn't know before Allison. And she's the one he liked.

"That's not it at all," he told her. "I was with Allison when Scott helped you shift back. So it's not that you don't remind me of Allison. I like you because…well, because you're kind of awesome."

The corners of her lips turned up in a small smile as she rubbed her palms on her jeans. "Okay."

"And I don't want to be with you just because I can't be with someone else," he continued. "I just wanna be with you. But I'm still working through some things. I'm still not completely sure what I had with Allison, because we never got much of a chance, but I'm still working through it. I thought France would help, but it really didn't, and I don't think that it would be fair to you to start something when I'm still trying to work out everything."

"So you wanna be with me," she said slowly. "But not yet?"

"Is that okay?" he asked, suddenly nervous. He didn't want to ruin things with her before they even got started.

"Yeah," she assured, taking his hand and squeezing it. "I appreciate that. I know that it can't be easy, so…just take your time, okay?"

He squeezed back, giving her a smile. "Okay."

''''''''''

Melissa zipped up her first-aid kit, then started picking up all the trash that she had made patching Chris up. She heard him on the phone in the living room, but didn't try to eavesdrop. She knew that he was talking to the Calaveras and did not want to get involved in that.

"Do you need any help?" Stiles asked, standing at the counter. She couldn't help but notice how tired he looked. How tired he always seemed to look lately.

"I think I've got it," she told him. "You should probably go home. Get some rest."

"I'm not leaving until I know for sure that Scott's gonna be okay," Stiles insisted.

"He'll be fine," she assured, throwing the last of the gauze wrappers into the trash. "He's already almost healed."

"I don't care," he said, leaning on the counter and looking at his hands. "I'll leave when he's back to normal."

"Then at least sleep here," she told him. "You look like you're about to fall over."

"I'm fine," he said automatically. Melissa's eyes narrowed, and she leaned on the counter to look him in the eye.

"You're not fine," she insisted. "You haven't been fine for a long time, as much as you act like you are, and everything that's happened the past few weeks has only made it worse. I know you act like you are because there's usually some big threat or big bad, but there isn't one right now. You don't have to pretend."

He refused to look at her, continuing to stare down at his hands. "It doesn't matter what I feel right now."

"Honey, yes it does," she told him, taking his hand.

"Not according to Lydia," he muttered, his voice so low that she barely heard him.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "It's not important right now. What's important is that Scott's okay."

The door opened, Lydia pulling the phone away from her ear and ending the call. "My mom's all caught up. She said to tell you that she hopes Scott is okay."

Melissa had known that there was tension between Stiles and Lydia, but she hadn't been around them very much the past week or so. But now that they were in the same room, you could cut the tension with a knife.

"Thank you," Melissa told her, giving her a smile.

She nodded, looking at Stiles for a moment before looking back at Melissa. "I should probably go home. Mom seemed pretty worried, so…"

"Of course, sweetheart," Melissa said. "Go get some rest."

"I'll come over in the morning," Lydia promised.

She made her way to the front door, not saying a word to Stiles. Melissa glanced at him for a moment – he was still stubbornly looking at his hands – before following Lydia.

"Sweetheart," she asked quietly, as not to disturb Chris' phone call in the living room. "Are you okay?"

Lydia nodded, pulling her jacket on and grabbing her purse. "I'm okay. I'm not the one who almost died tonight, so I'd have to say that I'm doing well."

"I meant with you and Stiles," she clarified, watching carefully as Lydia tensed.

"We've been better," she admitted after a moment. "But I screwed up, and I have to let him be mad at me."

"Screwed up?" Melissa asked. "Honey, what's going on?"

"I don't know," Lydia said, her voice breaking. Melissa didn't miss the tears that had formed in the young girl's eyes. "I don't know what's going on with Stiles and me, I don't even know what's going on with myself. I just…I don't know."

"Lydia –"

"Just don't worry about it," Lydia told her, opening the front door. "What's going on with Stiles and me is something that I brought on myself, so I need to deal with it. Just…worry about Scott right now, okay?"

With that she closed the door, leaving Melissa more confused than before.

''''''''''

Kira looked down at Scott, marveling at how beautiful he was when he slept.

The worry that never seemed to leave him in his waking hours was gone from his face, and he simply looked peaceful. He was never peaceful anymore, and she loved to watch the rare moments where he was.

This wasn't the first time that she had watched him sleep, but she could honestly say that it never got old.

Gently, she ran a hand through his hair, watching as he shifted into her touch. She looked down at his bare torso, lifting up the bandage to see the wound that Kate had given him. It was almost healed, looking like Kate had barely grazed him. It still amazed her how fast werewolves could heal.

"Like what you see?"

She looked back to his face to see him looking at her, giving her a sleepy smile.

"Not really," she told him, placing the bandage back onto the wound. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Don't worry about it," he said, tightening his arm around her. "I'll probably go back to sleep soon, and you need to get some sleep, too. We have school in the morning."

"You think that you're going to school tomorrow?" she asked him, raising a stern eyebrow at him. "That's funny."

"We have a review in the morning," he argued.

"I don't care," she said. "You're resting tomorrow, and I'm pretty sure that your mom would agree. You know, the registered nurse."

He groaned, rubbing her back as she snuggled closer to him. "I really need to pass this class, Kira."

"And you will," she promised, resting a hand on his chest. "I'll go to class and tell you everything that we reviewed, okay? I'll even take extensive notes."

"You always take extensive notes," he told her.

"Then you'll have no problem," she said, giving him a grin and leaning down for a kiss.

"Fine," he said when they pulled out of the kiss. "I'll stay home. But it will be boring without you."

"Well someone has to take the review," she shrugged. "Besides, you'll have plenty to do around here."

"Like what?" he asked, struggling to keep his eyes open.

"There's your X-Box, you have a computer, other homework," she listed off. "Or, you could always watch Star Wars."

He chuckled, pulling her closer and kissing her forehead as he closed his eyes. "I might just do that."

"Good," she said, resting her head on his chest. She felt his breathing slow as he fell back to sleep, and the reassuring movement that he was alive and on his way to well lulled her to unconsciousness.

''''''''''

Chris walked back into the kitchen, putting his phone back into his pocket. "Well, that's taken care of."

"Does that mean you don't have to deal with the Calaveras anymore?" Stiles asked.

"No," he said. "At least, not for a while."

"Are you saying that we might have to deal with them in the future?"

"It's always a possibility," Chris told him. "Especially in Beacon Hills."

"Great," Stiles groaned, dropping his head onto the table. "Just what we need right now."

Too much shit had already happened lately. If he had to see any of them, he would punch them in the face.

He would probably end up dead, but that wasn't the point.

The back door opened, his dad stepping through and closing it shut.

"Hey," he said, coming over to stand by his son. "Everything okay?"

"Great," Stiles said. "Scott is asleep and healing. Kate is taken care of, and the Calaveras have been filled in."

"Good to know," John told him. He looked to Chris. "How are you holding up?"

"Pretty good," Chris told him. "Melissa patched me up, told me to take it easy, and that's exactly what I plan on doing."

"What about Kate?" he asked. "She was still your sister."

Chris leaned against the counter, his brows furrowed as he thought. "I grieved my sister almost two years ago. Even then, she wasn't who I thought she was. The Kate that I saw tonight? I barely recognized her. So, not surprisingly, I'm doing okay."

Melissa came back into the kitchen, changed in the pajamas for the night. "Hey, John. What are you doing here?"

"I just got off shift and wanted to see how everybody was doing," he told her.

"Well," she said, opening the cabinet and pulling out some glasses. "That means that you can stay for a drink. Lord knows we all need one."

"As much as I would love that," Chris said. "I should head out. Go take it easy."

"You're sure?" she asked.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Thank you for everything, though."

He gave her a quick hug before heading out, leaving Stiles with Melissa and his dad.

Melissa poured two glasses of whiskey, handing one off to John. Then she went to the fridge and pulled out a Dr. Pepper and gave it to Stiles. He opened it and took a drink, keeping his gaze on the counter.

"Where's Lydia?" his dad asked him.

"She went home," he said, studying the can in front of him. "Said that her mom seemed pretty worried."

He nodded, his brow creasing in confusion. "I thought that she would stay here with Scott."

"You would think," Stiles said, shrugging.

"Now that her mom's in the know, I can understand her wanting to be able to explain everything," Melissa told them, taking a drink. "Especially considering Natalie is still pretty freaked out about it all."

"She is?" Stiles asked.

Melissa nodded. "Of course. It's only been a couple of months since she found out. I was freaked out, too. I'm still freaked out. Worrying about everyone, if they're going to be okay even though there's nothing you can do to help. It's nerve-wracking."

"Yeah, I guess," he said. "Especially after everything that's happened since she found out."

There was a moment of silence, and he knew that Melissa and his dad were silently communicating. It was something they had gotten good at over the years when dealing with him and Scott. They had dealt with each other's kids for so long, they might as well have moved in and started officially co-parenting.

"Yeah," John finally said. "Especially with that."

"Does she blame us?" Stiles asked, tapping his thumb against the counter quickly. "Does she blame us for being a part of all of this?"

"I honestly don't know," Melissa told him. "If she does, she hasn't told me."

"I do," he admitted, his chest growing tight. "I blame us. I blame me."

There was another moment of silence, but Stiles continued to study the red can. He didn't know why he had said that, other than the fact that it had been festering inside of him for weeks. He had blamed himself. Because if they weren't a part of all things supernatural in Beacon Hills, than he would be decorating a nursery right now.

"You shouldn't," Melissa told him. "You shouldn't blame yourself. Car accidents happen, Stiles, no matter what you're involved in."

"I know," he said. "But if Scott and I had never got involved in this in the first place –"

"You didn't have a choice," she snapped, causing Stiles to look at her. "You were dragged into it. All of you were dragged into it somehow. None of you had a choice in the matter. Even if you did, it's not like you can just go back in time and do something about it. So stop blaming yourself for something that got started years ago, because it's not going to help anybody, okay?"

He continued to look at her, unsure of what to say. It made sense. He couldn't go back and change the past, but he couldn't just shake the feeling of blame either.

"Okay," he finally said, nodding.

"Okay," she nodded, straightening back up. "I'm gonna go check on Scott, and you guys need to get some rest. I don't care where, you can crash on the kitchen table for all I care, but we all need some rest."

She downed the rest of her drink, slamming the cup on the table before heading upstairs.

John was silent for a few seconds before looking at his son. "So…couch or chair?"

''''''''''

Lydia closed the door to the house, turning on her phone's light to be able to see. She toed off her heels, sighing in relief when her feet were free from them.

"Lydia?"

It sounded like her mom was in the kitchen, and she noticed the dim light of the stove hood coming down the hall.

"It's me," she called back, making her way down the hall. Her body protested as she walked past the stairs that would take her to her bed so she could sleep. "What are you doing still up?"

Her mother met her in the doorway, wrapping her into a hug. Surprised, it took Lydia a moment to hug her back, but she squeezed just as tight as her mother.

"I was so worried," Natalie told her, rubbing her back. "About all of you."

"I'm okay, Mom," she assured, slowly pulling out of the hug to look at her. "We're all okay."

"I know," her mom nodded. "But it doesn't keep me from worrying."

"You don't need to worry," Lydia told her, walking to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water. "Well, I take that back. You have every reason to worry in situations like this, but we usually get out okay."

"Usually," Natalie sighed, leaning against the island. "That's what I'm worried about."

"Mom." She put the bottle down on the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. "We all got out okay."

"This time," her mom countered. "It doesn't happen every time."

"Mom –"

"No, Lydia!" she said, cutting Lydia off. "Of all the people that this town has lost that past couple of years, I know that a lot of it has to do with what you're involved in. I'm not sure who was in the know and who all was collateral damage, but a lot of people have died, Lydia! People that you went to school with! People that you were friends with! Allison, Aiden, and most recently –"

"Don't!" Lydia snapped, anger filling her in an instant as tears filled her eyes. "Don't you dare bring her into this."

"You and I both know that it's the truth, Lydia," Natalie continued, tears in her own eyes. "You are a part of something that you can't always handle, and you have lost too many people. People important to you. Important to me. You can't pretend like you'll make it out every time, because the past indicates otherwise."

"Than what do you suggest?" Lydia asked. "I know how dangerous it is, I live it! But what else am I supposed to do?"

"Step away!" she said. "You lost your daughter, Lydia – my granddaughter. After you were promised that she would be protected! But as much as they tried, they couldn't do it, because you're all just a bunch of kids who don't know what they're doing! I thought maybe that you would step back, but here you are, in the thick of it again!"

"You think I have a choice?" Lydia snapped. "I didn't look for this, Mom! It found me! I didn't want this, none of us did! The only person who even might have a choice to walk away is Stiles, and that's because he's human. You forget that I'm not. I'm a Banshee, just like grandma!"

"You could still step away –"

"No, I can't!" she yelled. "You don't get it, do you? I felt that something was wrong with Scott, and how close to death he came, and I literally could not stop myself from going after him! It's a Banshee's instinct to find someone who's going to die, or to scream and find the body when they do! I will always be in the thick of it, Mom! I don't have any choice in this!"

She didn't realize how loud her voice had gotten until the ringing silence settled around them. Natalie looked at her, almost shocked, and Lydia continued.

"Yes, I have lost people," she said, quieter this time as tears spilled over. "And yes, I…I lost Addyson. But this isn't something that I can walk away from whenever it gets hard. If that was the case, I would've done it after Jackson left. In fact, I tried. But it just dragged me back in. But now? Now I know that I can help people. And maybe I couldn't save Addyson, but I have saved people. I helped save Scott tonight. So don't insult me by telling me to step away instead of making the best of this curse that I've been given just because you're bitter."

She walked out of the kitchen then, exhausted, angry, and overall done. Her mother had no right to say any of what she did. Worry was no excuse.

It didn't help that Natalie was still blaming the Pack for everything that happened with Addyson, even if she didn't say it. That conversation said it all.

But Lydia had been right. Yes, they had lost people, but they had saved a lot of people, too. It didn't make the losses hurt any less, but it was the reality. And Lydia was able to save Scott tonight. She had been able to save one of her best friends, and they had won. That was real. That was the truth.

As she slammed her bedroom door, she couldn't help but notice the fact that tonight hadn't changed anything. The person responsible for Addyson's death was dead, and Scott was alive and well. Hell, she had even apparently developed a new ability. She should be at least relieved.

But she didn't feel anything.

She fell into bed, leaving her thoughts and issues for her more-rested self, falling asleep not long after her head hit the pillow.

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