Hey there, uh, wolflets? I don't know if there's a fandom name or anything but I feel like there should be. Anyway. Here I am with a brand-new story. This was a prompt from LoginOrSignUp, which I was very grateful for because it got me out of a writing slump and back into writing Stydia multi-chaps (as opposed to intended one-shots that spiral out of control. prediction, anyone?).
So. This is set after 3B, and ignores all of S4. There are a couple changes - Ethan and Isaac never left the pack, for example - but most of it should become clear as you go. The basic prompt was that Lydia's not coping after the deaths of Allison and Aiden, but the rest of the pack is too busy to notice so she slowly starts slipping away, and then... well, you'll see.
As always, warnings apply: not a happy story, lots of angst and a little bit of gore, etc. There will be 22 chapters in this story, and they're all pre-written (yay). It will alternate between Stiles and Lydia, who are the main focuses of this story.
Stydia is endgame, but it starts off with Stalia, as requested. Since I'm still ambivalent about Malia, I tried to do justice to her character and treat her fairly, but this is my first time writing for her and I'm still getting the hang of it. The story's heavy on the Lydia/Kira friendship, but most of the other regulars make appearances (including some you might not expect). You'll also find hints of Scira (yay), mentions of Scallison (sob), and a fair bit of Stalia (sigh).
Anyway. I think that's about all you need to know. I love feedback, so if you like the story enough to follow or favorite, then surely you can spare a minute to leave a review. I hope to see you all soon for the next chapter. Now, let's get started.
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"Lydia, look out!"
The warning comes too late and Lydia finds herself flung against the wall and then pressed up against it, claws wrapping around her throat and an all-too-familiar fear shooting through her. She stares into the bright blue eyes of the werewolf pinning her to the wall and she forces herself to look past the fear. Weakness. She needs to find the werewolf's weakness. Her mind works frantically, made even more difficult by the rapidly depleting oxygen supply due to the werewolf's grip.
Suddenly the weight around her throat lessens, and in a split second it disappears. The werewolf tumbles to the ground and Lydia sucks in a deep breath, her lungs aching and her neck throbbing. Ethan is standing above the other werewolf, his claws out but his face completely human. He glances over at Lydia, a question in his eyes.
"Thanks," she pants, rubbing her neck. Even though her legs are killing her – she really needs to stop wearing heels when they go to confront supernatural evil – she stands tall, not willing to admit how terrified she'd been. How terrified she always is these days.
Ethan dips his head in acknowledgement, and waits for Lydia to duck out of the way before he turns his attention back to the other wolf in front of him. Lydia darts through the battle, dodging claws and fangs and bodies being thrown across the courtyard, her eyes searching the darkness for the person she's looking for.
Before she can find him, somebody grabs her shoulder and spins her around. She bites back a cry of surprise as she sees who it is.
"Are you okay?" Scott asks urgently, his eyes bright with worry – for her, even though blood is actually dripping down his face.
In the time it takes Lydia to answer, a cut above Scott's eye knits itself together and heals, not even leaving a scar. "I'm fine," she says quickly. The sounds of battle rage around them, but Scott's attention is all on her. It never ceases to surprise her, the way Scott can make everybody feel like the most important person in the world, even when there's a bloody werewolf war going on just feet away. "Where are the others?"
"They went that way," Scott says, pointing across the courtyard. Lydia tries not to feel sick at the amount of blood that's splattered on the ground between here and there. "Go," he says, sensing her hesitation. "We can handle everything here. Just find her."
If it had been anyone else telling her what to do, Lydia would hesitate, maybe even argue. But it's Scott, and he's her alpha. And even if he weren't, she would listen to him anyway.
Scott's gaze drifts down, taking in the claw marks on her neck. He even reaches for her, like he's about to take her pain, but she jerks away.
"I'm fine," she says again. A sudden howl from the battlefield causes Scott to start. "It's okay," Lydia says, letting her hand rest briefly on his shoulder. "Go help them. We'll find the girl."
After only a slight hesitation, Scott nods. Lydia watches as he sprints back into the battle, taking out a werewolf who had been advancing on Isaac. Then she turns and skirts around the edge of the violence, trying not to slip in the blood. It occurs to her that this has become her life – slipping in blood, watching her friends get hurt, finding herself on the outskirts again. This is all too painfully familiar.
Like many of their plans, this one had gone awry. A rival wolf pack had ventured into Beacon Hills about two weeks ago, and polite conversation had been ruled out of the equation when the alpha had attacked Stiles one day after lacrosse practice. Scott had rallied his own pack and tracked down the rivals, only for it to end in an ambush. A bloodbath. Lydia hadn't been there – they'd decided to keep her out of it, for her safety – but for the duration of it, she'd felt a horrible sensation, like she was about to scream. Any one of her friends could have died that day.
And now here they are again, after a series of increasingly violent encounters, and they all know this will be the last one. Scott has to stake his claim and force the others out of his territory, or risk losing everything. And the pack, as always, stands behind him. This time, though, Lydia's actually included.
Although she wants to interfere, she knows she's never really been one for fighting. She's the brains, the banshee, the one who warns them of impending death and tells them how foolish their latest plan is. She's not the one in the thick of it, the one with the weapons and the lion's heart. No, that had been Allison.
As she reaches the other side of the battlefield she hears a horrible shriek – someone in pain. She spins around in time to see Kira fall to the ground. Instinctively she steps forward, but Scott swoops in to check on her, warding off the wolf that had knocked her down. This isn't her place, so Lydia hurries on.
The alley is dark, and somehow more sinister than the open violence of the courtyard. Her heels click on the pavement as she jogs down the alley, her eyes wide open and scanning the gloom. About halfway down, she hears another shriek, but this one comes from up ahead. It's unfamiliar, too, and as she skids to a stop she wonders just when it became normal for her to recognize the sounds of each of her friend's cries of pain and fear. Sometimes she even forgets what their laughs sound like.
Fear momentarily takes over, but Lydia forces her tired legs to move and carries on down the alley, almost at a dead run. It branches off at the end and she glances left then right – and sees yet another werewolf, this time crouching above a young girl. This is it, the reason they were here. In order to force a confrontation, the rival pack had threatened a stranger – someone completely and utterly innocent. They'd known Scott would never let that happen, but they hadn't counted on his entire pack following him into battle. But they did, because it's what they do, what they've always done. No matter what the cost.
The werewolf glances up and sees Lydia, and even without the glowing red eyes she can tell that he's the alpha. He's bigger, stronger, and a whole lot more terrifying than the rest of the pack. It might be her imagination, but Lydia thinks she can see blood literally dripping from his fangs. She freezes where she is, wondering where the hell the others are. She might be a genius, but she's not a warrior. She can't take on the alpha by herself.
But she doesn't have to, because there's suddenly a wild cry and something comes hurtling out of the shadows behind the alpha. Lydia watches as Malia hurls herself at the alpha, knocking him to the ground. The young girl, the alpha's hostage, lets out a startled scream and scrambles out of the way. Since the alpha is occupied, Lydia uses the opportunity to sneak around him and get to the girl.
"You're okay," she murmurs to the girl, who can't be older than seven or eight. She's got big brown eyes, glistening with tears, and she's looking up at Lydia with so much hope that it breaks her heart. "You're okay," she says, holding the girl to her. Out of harm's way, for now.
Malia may not have a handle on her powers yet, but she's still got her wild animal instincts, which seem to be serving her well. She's also quicker, and is managing to avoid the worst of the blows. But she's still getting knocked about a bit, and Lydia finds herself flinching with every blow. The little girl is whimpering, holding onto the front of Lydia's blouse with a clenched fist. Lydia keeps muttering soothing nonsense to her, waiting until there's an opening for her to get her out of there.
Lydia's so focused on the scene in front of her that she doesn't notice someone coming up behind her – not until she feels a hand on her shoulder. She jumps, almost letting go of the girl, but there's something familiar about the touch.
"It's okay," Stiles says quickly, crouching down beside her.
She's about to ask where he's been, but one look at him is enough to answer her question. There's a bruise blossoming on his temple and his eyes are slightly unfocused, like he'd been knocked out and only just come to. The edges of the alley are littered with garbage and darkened by shadows, so it's not surprising she hadn't seen him before now.
Although she doesn't say anything, Lydia feels a wave of relief in response to Stiles' presence. They haven't really spoken in the months since Allison died, but she still considers him one of her best friends. And although the rest of the pack seems to trust Malia, Lydia doesn't – not yet – and so she feels a lot better knowing she's not alone here with her. It's not that Lydia thinks Malia would do something deliberately against her; she's not evil, and she's not even mean, not really. She just doesn't understand the way the human world works, and she's just as likely to fight by their side as to abandon them the second they become a liability.
"That looks pretty bad," Stiles says.
Lydia looks over at him, ready to assure him that she's fine and the claw marks on her neck are the worst of her injuries, but then she realizes he's not even looking at her. Instead he's looking at the young girl – Cathy, says the sun-shaped name badge pinned to her chest – who's still whimpering softly. Lydia hadn't noticed before, but there's quite a nasty gash down one of Cathy's arms.
"Here," Stiles says, ripping part of his shirt off and wrapping it around the wound.
Cathy lets go of Lydia and starts holding onto Stiles instead. Lydia shifts her gaze back to the fight, in time to see the alpha fling Malia off him and sprint back down the alley, evidently eager to join the fray again. Malia gets to her feet, growling, and she wipes a smear of blood from her mouth.
"Are you okay?" Lydia calls out to her.
The coyote turns to her, and Lydia can't help but feel a shiver of fear at the wild look in her eyes. "I'm fine," she says shortly, but there's still something close to a growl in her voice.
"Can I – can I help at all?" Lydia asks tentatively.
Malia shakes her head, already moving down the alley after the alpha. "Just stay out of the way," she calls over her shoulder. Lydia knows it's meant to be friendly advice, but it sounds like a command – almost like a threat.
As soon as Malia disappears from sight, Lydia turns back to Stiles and Cathy. "We should get her out of here," Lydia says, starting to help Cathy to her feet.
"I've got it," Stiles says, taking over. Cathy clings to him, leaving Lydia holding empty air. She clenches her fists instead. "How is everyone?" he asks as he pauses to readjust the makeshift bandage on Cathy's arm.
"Nobody's dead yet, so I'm counting that as a success." Lydia meant it as a joke, a kind of gallows humor, but it comes out much too dark.
Stiles doesn't seem to find it funny, and he even seems to pull Cathy closer to him. He bends down so that he's on the little girl's level, meeting her eyes. "I'm going to get you out of here, okay?"
She nods mutely and Stiles straightens up, taking her hand in his. Lydia stays where she is as the other two start to walk down the alley.
"Is there anything I can do?" she asks, feeling, not for the first time, slightly useless.
Stiles glances at her over his shoulder, but he doesn't slow down. "Just… stay out of the way, okay?"
Then they're gone, leaving Lydia alone. Yet again.
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I hope you liked it, and don't forget to review. See you next time!