Thanks for your patience! Love you guys! Enjoy!
I do not own Teen Wolf.
Stiles was walking back to his dorm, cursing his nerves getting the best of him and preventing him from making the next move with Lydia, when he heard it. The distinct howl of a wolf. It was far away, likely in the woods far off campus, but he knew that kind of howl. After all, there were no wolves in California—except for one kind.
"Did you hear that?" Lydia had asked earlier, looking around as if expecting to find the source.
Like she had heard something moving, like an animal.
It hit Stiles all at once—the realization of what night of the month it was, what Lydia likely heard, and that he hadn't actually watched Lydia enter her building.
He turned and started running, and he saw her, stepping closer to the bushes next to the door, so close to safety but infinitely closer to danger.
He broke into a full-on sprint, knowing there was no way he could get there fast enough. She was too close, he was too far, and his heart nearly fell out of his chest as it all started to hit him.
"LYDIA! RUN!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, not giving a shit who heard him, just needing her to hear him, to understand his warning, and she snapped her eyes over to him immediately.
But that delay would be her downfall. The half-beast jumped out of the bushes, electing a scream out of the strawberry-blonde and knocking her down as it sunk its claws into her flesh.
Stiles practically flew the remaining distance, throwing with all his might the werewolf detonator alarm that Allison had lent him in case of a situation like this.
Sure enough, the werewolf ran off, shrieking, and Stiles got a good look at it.
"Oh my god. Aiden." he said in shock.
Based on the way he ran off howling, not quite grasping the proper sound, Stiles deducted that he hadn't been a werewolf long. Likely newly turned, not used to his powers yet, still a slave to the moon. He wouldn't have known what he was doing when he attacked Lydia. She was probably just convenient.
Lydia.
Stiles had been moving forward without conscious thought. He collapsed next to her on the pavement, hands flitting around as tears filled his eyes. There was so much blood, splattered all over her and her dress. He wasn't sure where her wounds were, but he found gashes in the dress material on her side that he immediately put pressure on.
"Hey! HEY! Call an ambulance, now!" he shouted at a group of girls who had stopped dead before exiting the dormitories, looking absolutely traumatized by what they had just witnessed.
Stiles turned back to Lydia, her eyes closed and her breathing slowed, and the tears splashed down his cheeks.
"Stay with me, Lydia. Don't you dare leave me like this. You are a fighter. Stay with me. Stay with me." he begged brokenly, wiping his eyes on his shoulder sleeve as he did his best to stop her bleeding.
He was completely dissociative to what was going on. When a pair of hands reached out to move him, he swung violently at them on reflex.
"Let go, son. We're here to help her. You can let go. We'll take it from here."
A crowd had gathered now, various party goers looking on in earnest for what had happened, people whispering, gossiping, but Stiles was oblivious to them all.
"Please. Please help her. Please don't let her die." he begged the paramedics quietly, not caring that he looked worse than he felt.
"We will do everything we can." the woman reassured him as her partner started the initial assessment on Lydia.
Stiles looked on from afar, not wanting to interfere, but desperate to be closer to her.
Lydia remained motionless, not opening her eyes, not giving him any kind of reassurance that the girl he loved was going to make it.
Stiles paced the hospital hallway, unable to sit still. He was getting weird looks, since he was covered in blood, but he didn't care. He really didn't fucking care.
He finally decided that there was no way Lydia was getting out of surgery so soon so he called Scott, not caring that it was almost one in the morning.
"Stiles? Hey, everything okay?" Scott's voice came warmly through the receiver.
Hearing his best friend's voice only made his emotions flood out of him. It was too much—the shock, the pain, the impending loss he wasn't sure he'd have to endure. He felt too much, all at once, and he couldn't physically keep it in anymore.
He started sobbing, burying his face in his knees as he sunk to the floor.
"Scott… it's Lydia. She was attacked. She's at the hospital and they're trying to save her but… it was a werewolf, Scott. She's going to… she's going to be…. I'm not even sure if he bit her or just scratched her, but she was bleeding so much… can you be turned by a scratch? If it goes deep enough? I… can you call Deaton or Derek or, fuck, I don't care, call Argent… call… somebody. Please, Scott. Please."
He wasn't even sure if he was making sense. He felt like he was losing his mind, like reality and sense were slipping away from him the more he tried to grasp on with both hands.
Scott's voice was firm and sure, though there was a slight waver in it if you knew him as well as Stiles did. "Stiles, I'm coming. Me and Allison are driving up right now. Where are you?"
"Berkeley Hospital." he managed to choke out.
"We'll be there as soon as we can. Stiles, she's going to be okay. And if she does turn, that means she'll heal. She's going to be okay."
Stiles nodded, even though Scott couldn't see him and his tears hadn't stopped regardless, and he ended the call.
He didn't want to tell Scott the truth. That he didn't want Lydia to be a werewolf. That Lydia didn't need that chaos in her life. Scott hadn't wanted it at first either, and then he learned to accept it and take it with grace, but not everyone got off that lucky. He wouldn't have wished the supernatural life on anyone. It was chaotic and terrifying and consuming.
Stiles headed to the men's room, rinsing his face with water and taking a few deep breaths. He had to hold it together. He couldn't fall apart. Lydia needed him to be strong.
Once he had his wits about him, he returned to the waiting room.
Allison was texting him, telling him to hang in there, giving him checkpoints they had passed so he knew how soon they'd be there. He was eternally grateful for the distraction.
The doctor came out, face grave, and Stiles felt his insides were left behind as he stood up to greet him.
"You're waiting for Lydia Martin?"
He nodded.
"Is there a family member of hers here I could talk to?"
"No, they're coming from San Diego. They won't be here for a while. Please, is she going to be okay?"
"Look, son, I know you're concerned for your friend, and I'm sorry for this but truthfully, I can't tell you—"
"Please. I'm covered head to toe in her blood. I'm all she has out here. Please, tell me something." Stiles begged, running a hand through his hair as he felt his emotions bubbling back up.
He knew, legally, doctors had to deliver any news, good or bad, to direct family first. But she was family to him.
"Excuse me, I'm Natalie Martin, Lydia's mother. How is she?"
The doctor looked relieved, clearly having been struggling to decline Stiles, and Stiles could've hugged the woman next to him despite the fact that they had never met. She wasn't shooing him away at all, which also was a bonus.
"Your daughter suffered severe wounds from the animal attack. There were several long gashes in her side and she lost a lot of blood. However, we've managed to get her to respond to some transfusions and have cleaned and dressed her wounds."
"Oh thank goodness."
Stiles breathed. She was okay. She was alive.
The doctor grimaced. "She's not out of the woods yet, though. We're not sure what's going on with her exactly—if we didn't know better, we'd assume it was some sort of allergic reaction. Her body keeps going into shock."
What the hell did that mean?
Lydia's mom clearly reflected his thoughts. "So what happens now? What can be done?"
"Well, out here we don't have much experience with animal attacks. We believe she would do better at another hospital, a more advanced one, and one that has dealt with these sort of incidents before. We want Lydia to receive the best care possible, so we've set up a transfer. We just need your consent to finalize it. Beacon Hills Hospital is expecting our call. We can give you directions, and they will set up a private room for Lydia where she will receive the best care in the state."
Stiles stared open-mouthed. She was going to go to Beacon Hills?
"She's in recovery right now, but we should be able to get you in to see her. If you wouldn't mind following the nurse there and filling out some paperwork, we can get things in motion."
Lydia's mom nodded and followed, leaving Stiles standing alone.
Stiles fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed Allison's number.
"Hey. Turn around. Lydia's being moved to Beacon Hills Hospital. I'll meet you guys there."
He wasn't sure what to do after he hung up the phone. He wanted to talk to Lydia's mom, but she had disappeared and he didn't really know if she would want to talk to him. She had only glanced at him briefly during the whole conversation with the doctor.
After a few minutes of standing around uselessly, he headed towards the parking lot to get in his jeep and start the trek to Beacon Hills.
It felt like a much longer drive without a happy Lydia next to him arguing about radio choices.
Stiles was surprised he made it to Beacon Hills in one piece, considering how distracted he was. He couldn't seem to keep his nerves under control—his hands were shaking and he was focusing the majority of his attention on keeping his breathing normal.
They had implied she would be fine, right? So why was he still panicking?
He really needed to see her. He needed to see for himself that she was okay.
Entering the familiar hospital, Stiles saw Allison and Scott near the nurse's station, talking to Melissa.
As soon as he walked in, they looked over, and Scott was jogging over as Stiles' face melted from its mask.
He collided with him, not even realizing he had started sprinting, and burrowed himself into Scott's hold.
Scott held him tightly, sighing almost in relief.
"You don't smell right." Scott mumbled sadly, as if that was the worst part of the whole evening.
Stiles almost laughed, but it came out as more of a sob and after another moment he finally let go.
"I'll work on that."
Allison came over as soon as the pair separated, no doubt wanting to give them some privacy, and she pulled Stiles into a hug immediately.
"She's going to be okay. I think they brought her in about ten minutes ago, but we couldn't really see anything."
Stiles nodded as they separated. "I owe you a thank you, by the way. Your detonator scared the guy off. We'd probably both be dead without it."
Allison smiled. "I'm glad it came in handy."
"Did you get a good look at the guy?" Scott asked quietly as they took seats along the wall.
"Yeah. At first, I thought…" He paused awkwardly, and the couple glanced at each other before looking at him curiously.
"What?"
"Um, I thought it might be Malia. It was actually a guy in our legal ethics class, who, based on the evidence, looked to be a newly turned werewolf who just didn't have self-control yet."
"Why did you think it was Malia?"
"Uh, well… I had seen her earlier that night. There was a frat party and me and Lydia were talking and I saw Malia there and kind of, you know, tried to hide."
"So you think Malia went out looking for you? But she has control now." Allison reminded him.
Stiles grimaced, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, I know. Um…"
Scott seemed to start catching on. "You think she attacked Lydia on purpose? Because she saw you two talking?"
Stiles closed his eyes in defeat for a moment then ran a hand through his hair. "Well, when I saw her, I kind of panicked. And Lydia… she wanted to stop my panic attack, so she kissed me. And she did it well enough so that Malia would scare off and leave me alone."
Allison and Scott were staring open-mouthed at his confession.
"Lydia kissed you." Allison repeated.
"Yes, look, it's not a big deal, all right? She didn't mean it that way. Or, well, I don't know. But the point is, I thought Malia might have gotten jealous and sought her out to, like, punish her or whatever."
Before either of the two could interject their thoughts on the matter, Stiles stood up.
"That's Lydia's mom."
Natalie Martin had just walked through the doors and headed straight to the nurse's station to find out where Lydia was.
She spotted Stiles and eyed him up and down before tuning back into what the lady was saying.
"Thank you." she told her before following the direction the nurse pointed.
Stiles felt himself deflate. It was only fair her mother see her first.
The more Stiles thought about it, the more he felt as though he probably wasn't going to get to see Lydia at all.
But then Mrs. Martin turned around and walked straight towards him.
He swallowed nervously, not sure if she was going to berate him for his constant presence or tell him to go home.
"You're a friend of my daughter's?"
He nodded. "Stiles."
"Excuse me?"
"My name. It's Stiles."
The déjà vu hit him like a ton of bricks and he barely managed a smile.
Natalie had better luck—her mouth stretched softly. "Lydia has talked about you a lot. You were with her at the time of the attack?"
He stuck his hands in his pockets. "Sort of. I had walked her to her dorm and then was headed to mine when I heard her scream. I got there as fast as I could."
"Which explains why you're covered in her blood. You're the one who kept her from bleeding out. When the nurse took me to see her, she said if you hadn't been so quick to act—"
"It shouldn't have happened in the first place." Stiles wasn't going to stand there and await his medal of honour. "I should've waited until she actually physically disappeared inside the building before I left her alone. It was late, it was dark, and her curiosity nearly got her killed, and I should've—"
He broke off, not wanting his voice to break in front of Lydia's mom for god sakes. He didn't know why he was telling her this. He was trying to get on her good side so she'd let him see Lydia, and here he was explaining exactly how much he was at fault.
He wasn't sharing that he knew about the supernatural, that he should've been more aware of the moon's cycles after the years of having his best friend be a werewolf. After the reality check of all the drama with the Darach and since Scott had been turned, he should've been more conscious of how precious life is, how quick things can change. He shouldn't have been too busy thinking about his teenage romance and more time focusing on making sure they both were safe.
Mrs. Martin observed him with interest. "Lydia is in the ICU right now. She's going to need constant monitoring. I'm not even allowed in there, except with exceptional supervision, so I don't think you'll be able to visit her right now."
There it was. The gentle letdown. The 'it's not my fault the hospital has these protocols in place oops sorry' charade. She didn't want him around her daughter when he had done enough damage already.
"But you and your friends can make your way down there. She's in a room with windows all around, so you'll be able to see her from afar. Once she gets stronger and pulls out of the unconsciousness she keeps falling into, she'll be moved to a private room and you can see her then."
Stiles nodded. "Thank you."
She patted his shoulder and then gave it a light squeeze. "Thank you."
He wasn't sure how to react to that, so he simply turned around to gesture to Scott and Allison to follow.
Hands locked, the pair followed, not asking any questions.
They reached the end of the long course of different hallways and ended up in a more secluded area.
Stiles heard the pair of them intake a breath, no doubt seeing the sign above saying Intensive Care Unit. He hadn't really given them details yet, but it was clear that she hadn't been doing well when he told them she was being transferred to a different hospital.
Mrs. Martin disappeared to get an update from the nurse, and Stiles stepped up to the windows, his fingers grazing the glass.
The lump formed in his throat at the sight of her, all hooked up to tubes and wires, a machine helping her breathe, monitoring her heart rate, keeping track of the level of oxygenation in her blood.
Her strawberry-blonde hair was tangled, her face paler than usual, and her body completely still. Without the beeping signifying life, Stiles could have easily believed she was dead.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, the familiar squeeze telling him it was Scott, and Allison snuck into his other side to wrap her arm around his waist and lean into him supportively.
There was no point in crying. It wouldn't change anything. And at the end of the day, Lydia was in the best place she could be. It hurt, it hurt enough to make Stiles feel like his insides were dying, but he had to stay strong. He had to have faith that Lydia would make it through.
Stiles broke away from them and lead them to the seating area, which thankfully was empty.
Inhaling deeply and blinking away the excess moisture in his eyes, he explained how the attack happened and then what the doctor and Lydia's mom had told him. As expected, it was the allergic reaction part that peaked their interest the most.
"Is that even possible? To be allergic to the bite?" Stiles asked Scott, even though he was sure he had no idea either.
Scott grimaced. "It might be her body rejecting the bite, just responding in that kind of way."
Stiles buried his face in his hands. That had been his first guess but he hoped he was being pessimistic.
"Hey, she's at the hospital, she has a team of doctors and constant monitoring. She'll get through this."
"But it's not like she was bitten to be turned. She wasn't even bitten by an alpha, just some freaked out beta who didn't know how to handle the moon's power."
"I don't know, Stiles. We'll talk to Deaton in the morning. And Derek and Argent and hell, even Peter if we have to."
Stiles nodded, though he was only half-listening. It was going to be a long night.
"Stiles. Stiles!"
Stiles jerked awake, the crick in his neck from more than just the spontaneous motion and he unfurled himself from his lopsided position across the chair.
Allison's concerned face swam into view. "Hey. You should get home and get some sleep. We can't do anything for Lydia right now. After we get some rest, we'll go talk to Deaton."
Stiles wiped his face, correcting his throat from the morning frog taking residence there. "You guys go. Text me or call me if you hear anything. I'm staying here."
Allison looked to Scott for help, but he shook his head minutely. He knew better than to argue with Stiles about something like that. As much as Stiles wanted answers, he couldn't leave Lydia right now.
"I'll call you guys if anything changes with her condition."
The two of them nodded. "Okay. Keep your phone handy."
Stiles nodded and settled back in to his spot until he saw Lydia's mom greeting another man.
Based on her rather stoic expression, Stiles realized that that might be Lydia's father.
Mrs. Martin was talking to him in hushed tones, explaining everything, and Lydia's dad stared into the room vacantly. Stiles was half-sure he wasn't absorbing a word his ex-wife was saying.
The man suddenly looked in his direction and Stiles whipped up a magazine and pretended to be invested in it, only to realize halfway through hiding that it was upside down.
He had never been the best at subtlety.
When he was sure the coast was clear, he lowered the magazine and rubbed his face.
Stiles noticed the doctor in Lydia's room, talking to both parents. Yep, that was definitely Lydia's dad.
He wasn't the best at it, but eavesdropping his entire life had its perks. He was pretty sure he read the doctor's lips correctly when he said there had been no change.
Great.
Screw the night. It was going to be a long weekend.
Growing up with his dad as the sheriff, Stiles had heard his dad moving around enough to be able to pick up the sound of his work boots hitting linoleum out of a crowd.
But somehow, his dad still managed to sneak up on him Saturday afternoon.
"Stiles."
Stiles straightened up from his half-dozing, blinking until his father's image came in clearer focus, and he got to his feet.
He saw his dad's eyes rove over him, lingering on the state of his clothes, and Stiles finally remembered that he had yet to change.
"Hey, dad."
He watched him warily. "You okay?"
Stiles nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets as his gaze shifted over his dad's shoulder to see Lydia's nurse writing down her vitals, the girl his heart belonged to still unconscious.
"There hasn't been a change. They don't really know what to do with her besides wait and see if she can fight off the 'allergic reaction'."
Stiles had called his dad late last night, and he had insisted on coming down right away, but Stiles had told him to stay home, to go to work, and that he would update him when he could. He must have finally gotten too stubborn to listen to him anymore.
"Stiles, I know you're worried about her, but she's in the best place for her right now. Come home. Shower. Change your clothes. I'll drive you back myself if I have to. Don't make me use my power as Sheriff to force you into it."
Stiles smirked a little despite himself, but when he cast his eyes over at Lydia, he really didn't feel like he could leave her. If she was going to… if she went… he wanted to be there. He hadn't been there for Heather, but he had for his mom, and he knew he'd never forgive himself if Lydia died without him there to hold her hand.
Even thinking it felt stupid and morbid, but he knew that was holding him there. He either wanted to be there so he could see her recover, so he could explain everything, or he wanted to make sure he didn't miss the moment when he lost her forever.
"Stiles, you need to sleep. And you're starting to get onlookers."
Stiles noticed the man his dad gestured to and chuckled.
"That's Lydia's dad. He has no idea who I am or why I'm here."
"You didn't want to introduce yourself?"
Stiles shrugged. "I just… It was hard enough telling his mom. That I was with her, about what happened. I don't want to rehash it all again. And it's inevitable that he'll ask."
The Sheriff patted his shoulder comfortingly. "What if Allison or Scott came to watch over her while you go home? They're due to come back any time now. They've been searching for answers."
That was usually Stiles' job—the research. Allison probably had talked to her dad, checked the bestiary, and more. Scott would've went to Deaton and Derek, maybe even Peter if they were desperate, which, at this rate, was likely.
As if summoned, Allison came down the hall and forced a smile at the pair.
"Hey. How is she doing?"
"The same."
Seeing his raw curiosity, Allison cut the small talk and got to the reason she came. "I'm sorry, Stiles. We've searched everywhere. We can't seem to find a reason why she'd be reacting the way she is, unless she is some other sort of werewolf and the lycanthropy is competing or something. Like how Malia is a werecoyote, not a werewolf. And honestly, that's just a theory. I called Kira, who spoke to her mother and they didn't know either. Scott texted me when I was on my way here and said that Deaton thinks we should check if her wounds are healing, to see if the bite actually took. Otherwise there's a chance—"
"That her body is fighting hard against the bite, yeah, I figured." Stiles said stressfully. "What did Derek say?"
"That if she's bleeding black blood, then it's a pretty good sign that the bite is going to kill her. That's what happened with Paige." She squeezed his hand. "But Lydia is young and strong. In reality, she should have a good chance."
"Paige should've too. And Lydia wasn't bit by an alpha, did you mention that to them? Does that matter?"
"Typically, betas can't make new werewolves. They don't have that extra spark of power."
"Which is what scares me. I can handle her needing time to heal from her wounds, like a human, but it's the supernatural element that's causing the reaction and I don't know if she's going to come out of it…"
He breathed out slowly. He couldn't dwell on the status of the situation too much right now. There was too little they knew. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours yet.
Allison stepped closer, tipping his chin so he'd look at her. "Stiles. Go home. Shower. Get changed. I know you won't stay home to sleep, so come back after that if you must, but you haven't eaten a thing, and you're starting to look like all of that blood came from you, you're so pale. I will call you the second something changes. If Lydia's finger twitches, you'll be hearing from me. Okay?"
Stiles sighed, gazing back at Lydia's form.
"Seriously, Stiles, you stink. You look like hell. And people are getting frightened of you. Go home. Grab some food and clothes. I'll keep an eye on her."
He groaned and finally listened, knowing he really wasn't that far from the hospital and that frankly he was getting tired of the suspicious looks people kept throwing him, especially Lydia's father.
He didn't miss the mouthed 'thank you' that the Sheriff sent Allison's way. She sent him a winning smile back before taking Stiles' seat.
Stiles' dad accompanied him home, making him a monstrous sandwich and handing him a bottle of juice that he downed on the drive back to the hospital.
Stiles had showered as quickly but thoroughly as he could, finding himself feeling much more like a member of the living when he threw on clean clothes from his drawers. Most of his clothes were still back at school, but he wasn't able to take everything, and now he was thankful for that. He hadn't really anticipated any impromptu trips home but it definitely didn't hurt to be prepared.
In reality, if he had nothing, Scott would've lent him something, but they were built a little different so he probably wouldn't have fit in them very well.
Arriving back at the ICU, Scott had now joined Allison and the two were leaning into each other, looking as desolate as Stiles felt.
Stiles lowered himself in the seat next to his best friend. "No change?"
Allison shook her head from where it was nestled against Scott's shoulder, their arms linked together. "Not really. But she seems to be much more stable. The last time they were talking to the doctor, he looked much more positive, and her parents actually were smiling, so I think that's a good sign."
"I'll try to get an update from her mom soon."
"I think she actually left with her husband. But Mom came out and she was talking to her. Once she's back from rounds, I'll grab her." Scott told him.
"Ex-husband." Stiles corrected. "They divorced when Lydia was sixteen. Do you know where they went?"
"Probably to get food."
Stiles leapt to his feet as Melissa came down the hall.
She smiled. "Now, technically, I'm not allowed to tell you this, since it's confidential information, but since Natalie said she would give you an update as soon as she didn't feel like she was going to pass out, I think I'll bend the rules. Lydia is making progress. She's stopped going into shock repeatedly. It looks as though, whatever was happening, seems to be diminishing. She's stable, and they're thinking that when she wakes up, they'll be able to move her to a private room."
"When?" Stiles repeated, making sure that wasn't a misuse of words.
Her smile broadened. "When. They have high hopes that she's on her way to a full recovery."
Stiles dove forward to hug her gratefully, and he could feel Scott and Allison's excitement next to him.
"Now, as you well know, this doesn't mean she won't feel some… supernatural side effects."
Stiles glanced at Scott. He remembered when he went through the change. He first noticed his hearing had improved, after his wound had healed completely like it had never been there, and then his speed and strength caught up to him. They really were only able to check one thing while Lydia was still unconscious—her ability to heal.
"You said her parents are gone downstairs to eat. And the doctor just checked in with them and on Lydia. And the nurse…?"
"—is going to do her other rounds. Which is what I should be doing before I hear this plan so I can keep my job." Melissa told them, flashing them a supportive thumbs-up before heading down the hall.
Stiles nodded at Scott as they snuck away to Lydia's room.
"Keep watch." Stiles told Allison, who rolled her eyes like it was obvious she was going to do so.
He and Scott slipped into Lydia's room, breathing out when they didn't set off some sort of alarm or knock anything obnoxious over.
As they went to close the door, naturally it squeaked like a thousand out of tune violins.
Allison sent them an annoyed look through the glass, stifling a laugh, but she nodded for them to keep going.
Approaching the bed, Stiles couldn't help but reach out and touch her forearm, rubbing his thumb soothingly along the warm skin.
Scott was on her other side, gently peeling back the bandage. Stiles was better off on the other side regardless, if his experience accompanying Scott to his tattoo was anything to go by.
"Is it healing?" Stiles asked quietly, not sure if he was ready for the answer.
"No. Not at all." he said, surprised, and carefully placed it back. "And no black blood. And it's not an actual bite, it looks like a scratch. I don't know if she has a bite elsewhere, but maybe the scratch didn't go deep enough to turn her."
"Didn't go deep enough? Did you see how much blood she lost?"
"You know what I mean, Stiles. It's not just a 1 + 1 scenario. There are other factors to consider with the supernatural."
Motion outside of the room finally caught their attention and they saw Allison sending them warning looks and gesturing to get the hell out of there.
Sure enough, when they rounded the corner after slipping out of the room, Lydia's parents were returning.
Stiles bumped his fist with Scott. Another mission executed successfully.
"Now that we know Lydia is going to be okay, anyone fancy raiding the vending machines?"
It wasn't until Sunday that Lydia was moved to her own room.
As expected, Stiles didn't go home at all, instead likely forcing himself to seek out a chiropractor in the near future due to his odd sleeping positions.
When Lydia woke up, Stiles nearly burst through the window itself, but he knew that wasn't right. She was with her parents, where she should be. She was pretty disoriented, what with being unconscious for a day and a half, so it wasn't as if she got up and started walking around looking for someone to socialize with.
They transferred her to another section of the hospital, which thankfully was near where Melissa was responsible for, so Stiles knew there would be a chance for him to see her before long. He just had to be patient.
…but it was really hard to be patient.
The day passed just as slowly as before, despite Stiles being a little calmer now that Lydia was awake. He still hadn't seen her and he was starting to think that he might get kicked out before he could.
As he texted Scott updates, who had told him to call when he heard anything since he had to get to work, and Allison had to make family dinner, he heard someone leave Lydia's room.
"He's still here? He's been here all day!" It was Lydia's father.
"Actually, he's been here all weekend." Melissa corrected as she walked by. "How's Lydia?"
"Good. Going to take a shower. Don't worry—I reminded her to be mindful of her bandages. I received a nice snarky reply to prove it too."
Melissa chuckled and Stiles hid a smile from his spot. Lydia was definitely getting back to herself.
"That's teenagers for you."
Before Mr. Martin could ask his next question, there was a shrill scream from inside Lydia's room.
It was loud and long enough to strike Stiles right in the heart and leave no room for him to question whose it was. Her scream would be permanently etched in his mind.
"Lydia?"
Without caring about respecting boundaries anymore, Stiles sprinted to her room and burst through the slower moving pair, wrenching open the bathroom door when he reached it.
He nearly slipped on the water on the floor and noticed that the bathtub was overflowing as the shower was running. He whipped back the curtain as Melissa moved to turn off the running faucet.
Her father was the first to speak. "Where the hell is Lydia?"
Stiles turned and saw the open window, and he swallowed as reality answered the question they all were burning to know. Lydia was gone.
