Hey wolflets, and thanks for the reviews last time. Warning for this chapter: it's a little bit graphic (blood and death and stuff) so be careful if you choose to read on. That's about it, so enjoy the chapter and I'll see you whenever.
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Bad things come in threes, which Lydia takes as a hopeful sign. She'll take any hopeful omens she can get, actually, given that she's yet again standing in a pool of blood. Last night, after she'd had the run-in with Stiles at the school, she'd done everything she could to relax – a warm bath, scented candles, the whole nine yards. It had worked for a while, until the second she closed her eyes. Then she was plunged into a nightmare so vivid she's not sure it didn't actually happen. It had started the same way they always did, with the night at Oak Creek. The night Allison had died.
But the nightmare hadn't ended with her death like it usually did. This time Lydia found herself standing over Allison's body, still screaming, and the next second she woke up in bed. Only she wasn't really awake, she was just deeper into her dream. And she'd seen things in her room – shadowy shapes, flickers of light. She could hear a low growl, and she saw something in the corner of the room, some kind of – well, monster was the word that came to mind. It was vaguely human but too indistinct to make out any defining features. And somehow after that she'd managed to fall asleep.
Only to wake up in the cemetery, yet again. This is becoming a dangerously regular occurrence, so on her walk back home this time she'd made a mental note to take some sleeping tablets tonight. There should be plenty left in her mom's medicine cabinet; she shouldn't miss a couple. Or a handful.
So that was two bad things, and she'd almost been expecting a third. She had not, however, been expecting this. By this point she really should be, given how out-of-control her banshee powers have been lately. And even how dangerous they were before then, because dealing with this has never exactly been easy. It just never used to be so hard.
She's not sure where she is now, but it looks to be around the back of some kind of apartment building. This is the third bad thing, and she has to hope it's the last one, because she really can't handle any more. Especially on her own. She'd come to her senses a few minutes ago, and has since been trying to process the gruesome sight in front of her.
No matter how long she's a banshee, no matter how many dead bodies she finds, she'll never get used to this. It's always different, always traumatizing, and it always leaves her feeling sick to the stomach. Still, this time is even worse than usual, if that's possible. The victim is a girl, around her age; she thinks she might have even seen her around school before. And she's lying in a pool of blood, stemming from her chest – because her heart has been ripped clean out of it.
Holding a hand to her mouth, Lydia steps back, searching for a street sign, some indication of where she is. Finding it – and surprised to see that she's almost halfway across town – she pulls her phone out. She remembers another time, another body; and Stiles, telling her to always call him first. So she does. What she hadn't considered is that he might not answer. Which he doesn't.
As she hangs up she realizes that her fingers are actually shaking, and it's not because it's cold. It's because, for the first time she can remember, Stiles Stilinski has let her down. She's never needed him as much as she does now, and she can't even get a hold of him. She can remember a time when she wouldn't even need to call him; he'd just know she wasn't okay and be by her side in an instant. She wonders if screaming is what it would take to get his attention.
As soon as she can force her fingers to move properly, she dials Scott's number instead. He picks up on the second ring; she can hear Kira's voice in the background, sleepily asking if he's okay.
"Lydia?" Scott asks, sounding almost annoyed. It hadn't occurred to her to check what time it is; she'd been too distracted by the pool of blood. Now she pulls her cell away from her ear and looks at the time; it's five am. She feels a slight pang at the fact that this means Kira must have slept over at Scott's house; Lydia can't remember the last time someone stayed over at hers. "What is it?"
Anger flashes through her, but she pushes it away. "It happened again," she says simply, and by the sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line she knows he understands.
"Where are you?"
She can hear him already getting ready, while Kira mumbles sleepy protests. Then she hears him tell her what's going on – it's Lydia, something happened – and the protests stop. Lydia quickly recites her location, and Scott hangs up after promising to be there soon.
It takes Scott five minutes to get there, but it's enough to push Lydia over the edge. When he arrives she's as far away from the body as she can be without losing sight of it, and she's sitting with her back against the wall, her head resting on her knees. The smell of blood is almost overwhelming, and she takes back her earlier desire for werewolf super-healing; if the price is being able to smell everything more strongly, she wouldn't want it. She feels sick enough as it is.
When Scott shows up he takes one look at her and blanches. "Lydia?" he says as he approaches, his voice low like he's worried he'll startle her. Like she's about to take off.
"I'm okay," she says, as briskly as she can manage. The words come out strangled, though, and she ducks her head slightly. "Over there," she says, pointing at the body behind her.
"Stay here," Scott says to Kira, who seems only too happy to obey.
While Scott goes to investigate, Kira guides Lydia back to his car. As soon as Lydia's sitting down she feels slightly better, but not much. The smell of blood sticks in her throat and she almost feels like she's choking on it.
"What happened?" Kira asks, placing a sympathetic hand on Lydia's shoulder.
Lydia lifts her shoulder up in a half-shrug. "Same thing as always," she says softly, trying to block the image of the dead girl from her mind. "I went to sleep, and when I woke up I was here. With…" She gestures vaguely to the direction of the body.
"I'm sorry," Kira says, and it sounds like she means it.
For a moment Lydia's tempted to open up, to talk to her like she would have done with her best friend. There are so many things she wants to say, so many things she needs to tell someone, but something stops her. They fall silent as they wait for Scott to come back, and Lydia's mind is swirling with all the words she can't bring herself to say.
When Scott returns, his face is grim. He slides into the front seat and pulls out his phone.
Lydia finds her voice. "If you're going to call Stiles, don't bother." When Scott turns back to her she explains, "I already tried. He didn't answer."
Scott tries anyway, and sure enough, Stiles doesn't answer. This makes Lydia feel slightly better, since she'd been starting to think he was mad at her after their argument at school. So he's not just ignoring her.
"We need the whole pack here," Scott says, and Lydia doesn't understand his apologetic look until he adds, "Cover your ears."
Lydia and Kira do, and a second later Scott howls. It's the kind of howl that will draw his pack to him, the kind of howl that nobody will be able to ignore. And sure enough, in a couple minutes Ethan and Isaac show up, and even Derek makes an appearance. The others get out of the car and go to join the rest of the pack near the body. Lydia tries not to think about how often their pack meetings seem to happen in the presence of dead bodies.
Scott makes an executive decision and calls the Sheriff, which means they only have a few minutes until the police show up. Lydia watches quietly as Scott falls into alpha mode, a role that seems to fit him more and more each time he steps into it.
"Okay, Derek, Ethan, Isaac – can you try and follow the blood trail? Whoever did this might have picked up enough traces for you to be able to track," Scott instructs. The three betas dips their heads and start moving, spreading out to cover more ground and try to find the killer.
"What can I do?" Kira asks, doing her best not to look at the body.
"Stay here and talk to the police," Scott says. "And wait for the others to turn up. I'm going to go talk to Deaton, see if he knows what might be going on."
Scott seems like he's about to leave, so Lydia cuts in. "And me?"
He turns to her. "You've done your part," he says, and she knows he's trying to be gentle but it rubs her the wrong way.
Before she can say anything, the rest of the pack shows up. Stiles steps out of his Jeep and then opens the door for Malia, holding it open while she gets out too. They make their way over to the pack together, and Lydia tries not to notice the way Malia's hand is wrapped around Stiles' waist.
"What happened?" Stiles asks as he reaches them.
Instead of answering, Scott glares at the two newcomers. "The better question is: where were you?"
Stiles balks, not used to be addressed with such harsh tones. Especially not from Scott, who's somehow stayed soft, gentle, even after all of this. "We were at my house," Stiles says. "I must have turned my phone off -"
"Don't," Scott interrupts, and Stiles' words shudder to a stop, "ever turn your phone off. We need to be able to reach each other at any time. Okay?"
"Y-yeah," Stiles says quickly, still seeming embarrassed by the admittedly mild rebuke. Malia, however, seems annoyed, like she's trying to resist the urge to roll her eyes. "Sorry."
Scott's anger – if it could even be called that – disappears. "It's fine. Your dad's going to be here, so you can wait with the girls for him to show up, or you can come with me to see Deaton."
Stiles looks over at the body, noticing it for the first time, and he goes pale. "We'll come with you," he says.
"Okay," Scott says, nodding. "Kira, Lydia, are you guys okay to wait here for the Sheriff?"
"We'll be fine," Kira says, and Scott kisses her on the cheek before heading back to the Jeep with Stiles and Malia.
As soon as it's just the two of them, Lydia finds herself breaking down. It's not a full breakdown, not cataclysmic; it's just a single sob, one that gets caught in her throat. But Kira notices it and concern darkens her features.
"Lydia," she says gently, "what's really going on?"
The banshee just shakes her head as they go back to the car to wait for the Sheriff. Kira doesn't ask again, but she does produce a small packet of tissues from her pocket, which she hands over to her. Lydia takes them with a grateful, albeit tearful, smile.
"He used to look at me like that, you know," Lydia says after a while, and Kira doesn't pretend to misunderstand.
"But that was before… everything?"
Lydia nods. Everything. The nogitsune; Aiden; Allison. "He hasn't really looked at me since."
Kira pauses, mulling it over. "Have you looked at him?"
Lydia doesn't get a chance to answer because at that moment the Sheriff shows up, and it's back to the familiar routine of answering questions and explaining how the hell she ended up at yet another crime scene. But once that's over, once the Sheriff has delegated all the right tasks to his deputy and the other officer who came with him, he looks at Lydia. Really looks at her. And he asks, "Are you okay?"
She's so startled by the question that she doesn't answer. The Sheriff seems to take that for an answer anyway, because he reaches forward and hugs her; gently, tentatively, but it's just enough to cause Lydia to break. She'd forgotten what it was like to be vulnerable, to be comforted. She may not be a damsel in distress, but it doesn't hurt to be reassured sometimes.
As she pulls away from the Sheriff, Lydia takes one last look at the crime scene. And feels her heart slam to a stop. There, silhouetted against the red and blue flashing lights of the Sheriff's wagon, is a familiar figure.
The one from her nightmare. Only this time, she can see not only the animal-like skin and the elongated claws. She can see their face. Every feature, each one like a blow to the heart.
Because standing in front of her is none other than Kate Argent.
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