Hope you enjoy this one! Definitely one of my very favourites to write! Love you guys!
I do not own Teen Wolf.
Stiles sat on the edge of his bed, watching the light begin to stream through the barred windows.
It had been a long night. Despite his reassurance to his dad, he had known full well that he wouldn't get any sleep without his pillow, so he didn't bother. It's not as though sleep deprivation was something new to him.
Stiles had a mission for the day. Amongst his mandatory group therapy and psychological evaluations, he needed to get to a phone despite what he had been told the day before.
The rules were clear upon admission—no phone calls for the first 72 hours. And, although he tried to convince the nurse last night while she near-shoved him into his room that he could make the call quick and that it was urgent, he hadn't been granted his plea.
But today, he had to. If the fox possessing him was poisoned, then why was he seeing him in Eichen House? Did that mean he was back to square one or that he wasn't as poisoned as they thought?
He needed to talk to Scott, to get the pack working on it. They needed to figure things out before the nogitsune took full control again.
He wondered what they were all doing, but then he realized the most of them must be sleeping. It had to be early morning.
He knew his dad was leaving at the crack of dawn to head to LA, so maybe he was already on the road. He'd stop for coffee, probably a bagel, or maybe a breakfast sandwich since Stiles wasn't there to nag him about the unnecessary cholesterol levels.
Scott, usually a sound sleeper, probably tossed and turned a bit before exhaustion took over. Hopefully he was still dreaming. Maybe Allison would've snuck over to sleep with him, to keep him at ease. It's something she would do.
Lydia… It was hard to think about Lydia.
His mind had had trouble staying far from her all night. It had gone back and forth to what the supernatural side of things could mean, his conversations with his dad and Scott, and of course his goodbye to Lydia.
She had been so devastated, broken down in a way he had never seen her do so before, and it had shattered his heart.
And then kissing her… he could get completely immersed in that memory. He had fantasized about kissing her for months, but he never wanted to cross that line prematurely. He had sensed she felt the same way at times, but other times he'd worried he was misreading things, because she was way out of his league.
But then she kissed him, and he forgot about all of that. Forgot about being possessed, about being insecure, about all the hell he'd brought into her life, and he just gave himself over to her.
Leaving her, broken, crying, and after such a long awaited moment, was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. Especially since he wasn't entirely sure he was making it out of Eichen House at all.
"Have you been awake all night?"
His roommate, Oliver, said into the quiet from the bed next to him.
He was a little eccentric, but so far harmless despite the fact that they had him in restraints overnight.
"Yeah. I can't sleep without my pillow." he said quietly, eyes flickering to his roommate as he coughed pretty hard. "You okay?"
He nodded as he coughed again. "I swallowed a bug the other day. You ever do that? I keep coughing like it's still in my throat."
Stiles' lips curled. "That's disgusting, Oliver." He looked over to the door, willing it to open already. He was getting really tired of the scenery. "You don't have any idea when they unlock the doors, do you?"
As if on cue, a click sounded.
"Now?" Oliver replied.
Stiles got to his feet instantly, slipping past the nurse who moved inside to release Oliver from his restraints.
Lydia had gone home after saying goodbye to Stiles, heart heavy and eyes wet.
It had taken a while, but exhaustion eventually took over.
Her phone ringing woke her in the morning. It was Allison, letting her know she and Scott were heading over to the animal clinic first thing to talk to Deaton. The pressure was on now that Stiles was locked up and Argent and Derek were still being held for Katashi's murder. They had a lot of detective work to do and needed all the help they could get.
Lydia was let into the clinic by Scott, who gestured her to follow quickly and she joined Deaton and Allison in the back office where Allison's dad was on speaker phone.
"Did you have any trouble with Ikeda?" Argent was asking.
Deaton nodded towards Lydia as a way of greeting when she came in while Allison gave a quick wave.
"Only minor. The white wolf was exactly where you said it would be. But we have two problems now. First, the lichen is not a cure. It'll wear off in a matter of days."
Lydia straightened immediately. They were talking about the poison they gave Stiles. Argent must have suggested a source for the ingredient, and clearly not a necessarily safe ally.
"But while it does work, the Oni won't go after Stiles, right?"
"I hope. Eichen House has an unusual history. It might not be all that safe for the Oni there as well."
Lydia bit her tongue. She had that inkling already. And if the Oni weren't safe, Stiles sure as hell wasn't, seeing as the Oni were apparently impossible to beat.
"What's the second problem?"
"I checked with your contacts in Japan. The yakuza boss you saw killed by the Oni never found the scroll." Deaton explained.
"What scroll?" Allison asked, the item news to them.
"A Shugendo scroll. The Shugendo were the ascetic mystics of Japan."
"The scroll had information on how to exorcise a nogitsune." Argent inputted on the line.
"So we need to find that scroll." Scott said quickly.
Deaton nodded. "Exactly. And I did get a name of the man who last purchased it—Kincaid."
Argent continued. "He was with Katashi. He's the guy who met with Derek to buy the gun. Sounds like Katashi wanted the scroll for himself. But Stilinski already told me nothing like it was found among his things. And a paranoid like Katashi would keep it close. Probably on him at all times."
"What's the Shugendo scroll look like?" Allison suddenly asked.
Deaton got up, pulling an ancient looking rolled scroll out of his files. "Something like this."
"Do these come in different sizes?" she inquired, eying it up and down.
"Any size."
"Then I think I know where it is." she said seriously. "You said Katashi went by a nickname—Silverfinger—due to a prosthetic. If he kept it on him at all times…"
"He hid it in the prosthetic." Scott caught up quickly. "And that wouldn't be amongst his things, because likely they'd bury him with it, right?"
"Not right away, not if he was murdered. They'll need to do thorough examination and autopsy for the murder trial. He's likely holed up somewhere, maybe the morgue." Lydia said.
"Then I say we take a trip there and see what we can find."
"Wait. If Kincaid purchased it for Katashi, he likely knows where he hid it too, and how valuable it is. I doubt he'd let a prize like that go to waste." Allison reminded them.
"We'll bring Kira and Isaac. Derek too. We'll need backup just in case we run into any resistance."
Scott received a text then, pulling out his phone.
His eyebrows furrowed in concern.
"What is it?" Allison asked.
"Stiles' dad… said the specialist didn't give a good answer, but my mom did some research into the old hospital files. The brain scans… Stiles' compared to his mom's. They're identical. There's not even a spot different between them."
"I'm guessing that's not possible?" Argent's voice came over the line.
Scott shook his head, then spoke since Allison's dad couldn't see him. "Not even remotely."
"So it was a trick? The nogitsune used Stiles' mother's disease against him?" Lydia said in confusion.
"Why would he do that?" Allison was just as lost.
"The nogitsune feeds off fear. Maybe it's to give him strength?" Scott suggested.
"Or maybe because he's been in Stiles' head long enough to know him. And he knows that Stiles would do the right thing." Deaton said.
Scott stared. "He knows Stiles would admit himself to Eichen House."
Allison immediately caught up. "He wants Stiles there. There has to be something there that the nogitsune needs. Some… part of its history."
"Dammit. I knew he shouldn't have gone in there." Scott said, pacing in frustration, hand in his hair.
"We need to talk to Stiles—warn him." Lydia demanded.
"He's not allowed any visitors or calls for 72 hours. What are we supposed to do, send smoke signals?" Allison said exasperatedly.
Scott sighed. "We don't know anyone on the inside of there that owes us a favour, huh?"
"No… but you know what, I have an idea." Lydia said, smile forming on her lips.
After eating and his initial psychologist visit, Stiles was finally freed to roam as he pleased. Oliver met up with him and gave him the tour. Stiles only agreed because he knew where the payphone was and he had managed to snag some change out of the cup in the psychologist's office before he was released.
Oliver was rambling off the different people's names, explaining that the violent patients were kept in a closed unit and naming off the others and their conditions. Stiles mostly tuned him out, determined to complete his mission, but he did hear that many of them seemed to be under the impression they were Jesus.
Man, he knew he had his issues, but maybe his friends had been right. He didn't belong here.
"Hey, how come you want to use the phone already?"
"Because after one night, I've changed my mind about this place being safe for me, or anyone, ever."
He could almost hear the 'I told you so' Lydia no doubt would be firing his way if she was there, smug smirk and all.
Damn, he had to get out of here.
There was a girl on the phone when they arrived, Stiles leaning against the wall impatiently.
He picked up on her conversation, not much else for him to concentrate on. He hoped she was almost done.
"No, I think you're wrong. I really think I should tell them. They're going to want to know the story. The whole story. I really think they should know. Yes, I do." Her voice changed, lowering to a fierce whisper. "One of them is standing right behind me."
Stiles straightened up. She was talking about one of the two of them, and Stiles had a feeling it wasn't Oliver. She had said 'them' and as far as Stiles could tell Oliver was a bit of a loner. Although he was plenty nice, everyone else seemed a little caught up in their own psychoses.
'Them' might mean the pack. What did she know? Who was she talking to? Was it about the nogitsune?
She passed them as if they weren't even there. Stiles stared after her as he picked up the phone. "Who was that?"
"That's Meredith. She's a little weird."
He sent him a look as he put the phone to his ear. "You're a little weird. She's a lot weird." He played around with the phone, no dial tone to be heard. "It's dead."
Oliver didn't look surprised. "Yeah. They turn off all the phones for 24 hours after a suicide."
Stiles exhaled. "Why didn't you tell me that before?"
"Why didn't you ask?" he asked, as if Stiles should have known.
Maybe he should go talk to that Meredith girl. He wondered if she'd tell him anything. He wasn't sure how weird she was, but if she knew something, he was desperate to get answers. The whole reason he had admitted himself was to get help from the inside.
He headed in the direction she went in.
"What are you going to do now?"
"Look, you and I can catch up later, okay? I've got to talk to—"
He froze instantly at the sight of a different girl passing by one of the windows inside, a glimpse of her hair flashing through the glass.
Stiles could recognize her anywhere. He broke out into a run.
"Ly-"
Before he could finish, he tripped over his own feet, too hasty for his body to catch up and he tumbled to the pavement.
A group of no doubt believed-to-be-Jesus' hanging around started cackling amongst themselves, pointing and jeering like school children.
Stiles wiped himself off, pushing himself up before he paused in confusion.
He was laying above a vent, light pouring down into the room below, and a memory jogged in his mind. Something about the way the light hit the objects made something stir in his mind, in his gut, that made a chill spread across his skin.
His mind flashed to a steel trap on his leg, him shrinking against the wall, shouting at the bandaged figure he had caught a glimpse of earlier, his whole body shivering all over. It had to be the night he was missing, but he woke up outside the coyote den? How could he have dreamed of a place he'd never been? Unless the basement location was courtesy of the demon in his head… which meant—
"Enough!" a voice shouted, silencing the onlookers.
Stiles' head whipped up in surprise, immediately recognizing the woman standing above him.
"Stiles, can you follow me?"
He nodded and followed her lead.
"You saw something, didn't you?"
"The basement. I've been down there before."
"When?"
He bit his lip. "I'm… I'm not exactly sure." He inhaled. "Look, are you in contact with your brother?"
Morrell was Deaton's sister, their high school guidance counsellor, and typically an ally when it came to the supernatural. She was all about maintaining the balance, the way emissaries are supposed to work, but it meant she wasn't always on their side. It made it difficult to trust her completely, but Stiles was relieved for the familiar face and didn't think anyone would want the nogitsune to take over completely. When Deaton and Argent didn't have any hopeful answers, things were looking bleak.
"My brother doesn't have any answers for you."
Stiles rolled his eyes. She always made it sound like she was telepathic. For all she knew, he could've figured something out that minute. "And you do?"
"I know what those lightning marks are." she told him, nodding towards his neck where some extra coloured veins poked past his t-shirt. "And I know what you need now."
Stiles kept his mouth shut and followed her to some private room towards the back.
She opened a cabinet and removed a vial of pills, raising her eyebrows to prompt him to hold out his hand.
"What are these, sleeping pills?" He wasn't oblivious to the dark circles forming under his eyes.
She shook her head. "Amphetamines. Sleeping is exactly what you don't want to do. You're vulnerable when you're asleep. When the marks fade, the nogitsune's grip over you will return."
"So all I have to do is stay awake?"
"For now. If your friends don't figure something out by the time those marks are gone, I'll come find you."
"To tell me what to do?"
"No, to give you another injection." She pulled out a drug from the cabinet. "Pancuronium bromide. It causes respiratory paralysis."
Stiles chewed his tongue. "That sounds a lot like death."
"It's used in lethal injection, yes." she deadpanned.
He should've known. As always, she may be an ally for part of the time, but in reality she didn't take sides at all. "So when the nogitsune takes over, you're going to kill me?"
"I'm going to do what I've always done. Maintain the balance."
He rolled his eyes. "Great. I've missed our talks. Thanks for the illicit drugs." he said, turning to leave.
Her voice made him halt.
"Stiles. Stay awake." she warned.
He wondered if she was doing so as a final attempt to be caring, as if hinting she didn't want to have to kill him, or if it was more for her concern over having a nogitsune loose in Eichen House.
He was going to bet on the latter.
She called out again before he could pass the doorway. "And you should follow me. Group therapy is about to start."
He sighed and let her lead him down the hall.
Stiles definitely wasn't in the mood for group therapy, and it was only made worse when Morrell decided they would revisit the previous session's topic of guilt.
Great. As if he wasn't feeling bad enough. Now he had to psychoanalyze his feelings and past mistakes, all while running out of time before a demonic spirit possessing him started going on a killing spree.
His mind wandered, wondering if he had seen what he thought he had earlier, and the sight he had seen last night.
He was starting to get paranoid. His talk with Morrell hadn't helped. He kept doing double-takes—thinking the doctor talking to one of the staff had bandages across his whole head, that the person sitting next to him had bandaged hands… he was going crazy.
Wait. He was crazy, according to the Beacon Hills Hospital MRI. And he was possessed by a spirit that may not have full control but definitely wouldn't hesitate to mess with his head at every available opportunity. Probably not a good combination.
Before he could get to the self-pitying portion of his hysteria, an orderly interrupted the session tugging someone behind him.
"Your new addition they warned you about." he grunted before pushing her forward and turning away to leave.
Lydia stood awkwardly in front of the group before finding the sole empty chair available. Her eyes narrowed on Morrell suspiciously, but Morrell simply nodded in her direction.
"Welcome to the group, Lydia." she said, her eyes flashing momentarily to Stiles.
He was too busy gaping at Lydia.
What the hell was she doing here? Why? Had they figured something out? Why had group therapy only just started?!
He swore it was her he had seen earlier, but with everything with Morrell, like her threatening to murder him in a few short days, he had sort of been distracted.
She sent him a timid smile before turning back to Morrell, who had begun leading the discussion again.
It took forever for the session to end, and Stiles was growing antsier by the minute. Those pills certainly were keeping him awake.
Or maybe it was the strawberry-blonde sitting across the room from him, dressed in full mental institution attire, that had his mind alert.
He knew he needed to provide certain medical information and a referral from a doctor in order to be admitted there. So how had Lydia done it? She wasn't crazy. She must have had to put on quite a show to get sent in so quickly.
When they were finally given the all clear, Stiles leapt up from his chair so fast he nearly knocked it over. It gave him some odd looks, but seeing as he was in a mental institution, it's not as though many people were that concerned with him acting abnormally.
Lydia gave a head gesture over her shoulder, indicating he should follow her, and he sent her an exasperated look back as if he was planning on doing anything else.
The others dissipated in other directions, so Stiles followed Lydia down an empty hallway.
Once they rounded a corner, Lydia turned around and immediately crashed into him in a tight embrace, burying her face in his shoulder as she squeezed him tightly.
He inhaled, letting her familiar smell and warmth wash over him as he held her just as closely.
She moved to find his lips with hers, desperation and longing clear in her kiss, and Stiles returned it tenfold. Leaving her the night before had been awful. He poured every bit of apology into it as he could as he pressed her against the wall, kissing the breath from her mouth.
Her hands lay slack against his neck, still managing to keep him tight to her, and she shivered as his hands slipped under her t-shirt slightly as he gripped her waist.
Stiles kept kissing her, lips tumbling over lips, and they were getting far too lost in each other to remain inconspicuous for long.
Lydia pushed gently on his chest, separating them enough for her to breathe and try to think clearly. Her head was spinning.
"Sorry." Stiles mumbled, blushing slightly over his enthusiasm.
She couldn't help but giggle a little. "Don't be. I started it."
Stiles dipped his head down and kissed her lips for one last long moment before pulling back and taking a step away from her.
He ran a hand through his hair. "So. What brings you to Eichen House?"
She would love to say it was just for that kiss, but she knew they had limited time and her time for being selfish was over. They needed to get right down to business.
"We've found some things, and most of them aren't good. Mostly, we didn't know how else to get in contact with you. You don't have much time—the poison will run out and he'll take over again. We need to find something, something that might be in this building. Void had a connection to here, that much has been obvious, and it may be where it's being kept. It may be why he led you here."
"I have an idea where. The basement. I tripped earlier and got a glimpse of it. I swear I've been there before."
Lydia looked surprised, but there was something else in her expression.
"What?"
She bit her lip. "The basement here. It's where I… the night you had your nightmare and ended up outside the coyote den. I followed my… 'power' and lead everyone down to the basement. I was so sure that's where you were."
That was all the confirmation Stiles needed—he had been right earlier. "I was, Lydia. In my dream. That's where I was. That's why it's familiar to me."
"We have to get down there and see what's really there. That's too much of a coincidence to ignore." She sighed. "It was locked though. Your dad was the only way we got down there. It might not just be Void hiding things down there. We'll never get down there."
"Now, now, Lydia. Have a little faith. You forget you're talking to one of the best masterminds when it comes to getting into trouble this town has ever seen." Stiles said with a grin. "And it just so happens I have an idea."
Lydia tried to mask the thrill that went up her spine when Stiles introduced her to his friend Oliver as his girlfriend.
Oliver was a sweet kid—eager to please, so he readily agreed to helping without even knowing what their need to get into the basement was. He didn't ask questions, just agreed to help. Lydia couldn't help but develop a soft spot for that kind of child-like innocence.
The plan was simple—pretend to get into an escalating argument. It would advance to a scuffle, which they had already seen get broken up by the staff immediately. Brunski, the head orderly according to Oliver, was the one with keys to everything. If anyone had the basement key, it would be him.
He was down the walkway when they decided to cause a scene out in the courtyard.
The plan was simple—cause a disturbance, have the staff break it up, and whoever had Brunski grab them would slip his keys out.
Oliver played his part earlier, shouting about how Stiles was a liar, how they didn't do trepanation there anymore, how no one was going to drill into his skull.
Since he was the one tackling Stiles, he was the one Brunski went for. He dragged him off of Stiles, and Oliver sunk into his tight grip. Lydia caught a glimpse of the flash of metal as he slipped his keys away.
She hid her smile of victory as she helped Stiles to his feet.
"Mission accomplished." she murmured to him as she pretended to make sure he wasn't hurt anywhere.
He grinned back, flashing a subtle thumbs up to Oliver who looked like a happy puppy once he was released.
Time to get some answers.
It took a couple hours to dig through the filing cabinets in the basement.
It wasn't exactly easy—whoever filed things hadn't exactly had a certificate in file management. Things were chaotically thrown in, out of chronological and alphabetical order.
Stiles was looking through big pages, blueprints apparently of the upstairs rooms and closed unit. Nothing of the basement was there and nothing of use, unless he wanted to know where to locate all the fire exits.
Lydia's sharp intake of breath next to him caused him to look over.
"What is it?"
"Nothing. It's nothing."
"Lydia…"
"It's not to do with the nogitsune." Lydia muttered, going to stuff it into the pile of 'nothing' they had going.
Stiles reached over to grab her hand. "Lydia, talk to me."
She sighed and passed the file over.
Lorraine Martin was written on the front. He furrowed his brows in concentration as he flipped through the file. Reading the dates and then the next of kin, he concluded that she must have been Lydia's grandmother.
"Your grandmother was a patient here." He realized something. "They consider family history when admitting people. Is that how you got in here today?"
She nodded. "I put on quite a show too, used what's been happening to me to help sell it, but yeah."
"What about your mom?"
"I'm over eighteen—she didn't have to be involved. I told her I was going on a girl's weekend with Allison." She shook her hair off her face, her emotions showing clearer now. "Keep reading."
He squeezed her hand and continued flipping through the file. He saw date of death, and then cause. Suicide.
"Is that why you didn't want me to come here?"
She shook her head, then let out a breath. "Partly. I don't think she committed suicide. Or, I don't think she would've if she hadn't come here. I think this place changed her. And I just… I didn't want it to change you. Especially because I don't think you belong here."
"Why was she admitted?"
"I don't know. I was young. I knew she'd go on these ramblings, talk to herself a lot, fight with my dad when he tried to tell her to stop. Saying he just wasn't a believer. I didn't know what they meant, and they don't talk about her now."
Stiles reopened the file. He flipped through until he found symptoms and diagnosis.
"Lydia… look at this. Look at these notes."
Her eyes widened after he passed it over. "Patient reports hearing voices, warnings of death." she read aloud, reading the rest in her head. Sensitivity to sound, screaming in the night. "My grandmother was like me."
"Guess whatever you are might be genetic. Maybe that will end up helping us figure it out." Stiles said supportively, rubbing her hand.
"And to think, I've always been afraid of ending up crazy like her. That's what I thought was happening to me when it all started." Lydia said, almost amusedly, but he could detect the hidden pain there.
"You're not crazy, not even close. And I don't think fearing it keeps it away. I was always scared of being crazy like my mom, and apparently I am."
Lydia suddenly realized she hadn't told him about one of the most important things they had discovered while he was gone. "No, Stiles. The MRI scans weren't right. The nogitsune, I don't know how, but he must have had something to do with it. Those scans? They were exact replicas of your mom's. That's impossible, according to the specialist your dad spoke to. There's no way all of this is to do with you having dementia – it's all the nogitsune."
Stiles absorbed that for a moment. "Are you… are you sure?"
Lydia smiled, eyes glistening a little. "I'm absolutely sure. Those symptoms you had were all a result of you giving power back to the Nemeton and the nogitsune possessing you."
Stiles blew out a breath, unable to believe it. He had his suspicions, his hope really, but he hadn't wanted to let it get too high in case he was wrong.
Lydia suddenly straightened up.
"Stiles. The symptoms from the Nemeton revival you all had. What did they all have in common?"
"Uh, they all scared us to death and nearly caused us all to get admitted here?"
"No. They all represented a deep fear within you. You're terrified of your own mind, of getting your mom's disease. The nogitsune just pushed that further home by imitating your mom's MRI scans."
"Okay, yeah, I get what you mean."
"What about the others?"
"Well, Allison kept seeing her murderous aunt. I think a part of that could be her fear of her family's corruption. They almost won once, too easily. And of course she and her aunt were close, and she had no idea the kind of sociopath she really was. I think she's afraid of that weakness too."
"And Scott?"
"Scott's always been afraid of the monster within, of the werewolf inside overpowering his natural instincts and morals. It's a powerful thing to fight, but he does it, he's always done it. But it hasn't always been easy. Instinct is hard to fight."
He thought about it.
"I guess they could all relate to the most traumatic thing we've experienced too—Allison witnessing her aunt's murder, Scott getting bitten and dragged into the supernatural world against his will, and me with my mom's disease and death."
They both sat in silence for a few minutes.
"Sometimes this still doesn't feel real. The whole supernatural world… but at least it's still something we can work on figuring out. Preferably together." She reached up to push his hair off his forehead, smiling slightly. "I can get through this if you're with me."
She leaned up to kiss him softly.
It was easy to forget about everything when Lydia kissed him. All his thoughts went directly to how lightly her hands ran through his hair, the way her body curved into his. Stiles pushed the remaining files onto the floor, eager to get his arms around her, thoughts completely wrapped up in getting closer to her.
Reality sunk in before long, and Stiles knew he had to say something. He broke away, scooting down the couch to put some space between them.
"Lydia… I won't be me for much longer." he said, eyes sad.
She smiled and squeezed his hands. "Then maybe we should do something before that happens." she suggested.
Her hands lowered to the hem of her shirt and she peeled it over her head. Blushing slightly as his eyes roved over her half-naked torso, she shrugged one shoulder, waiting for a response.
Stiles knew the blushing wasn't to do with shyness over her body. Her body was, in short, incredible, and she knew it to some degree. He knew she didn't work that hard on it not to know. But she also was dressed in only a sports bra, something he was sure she didn't plan to wear for this. He knew Lydia—he knew she'd likely have picked out some fancy lingerie thing she'd know he liked, because she was like that, she'd go the extra mile. But he didn't need that effort. He only wanted her. And he thought she looked beautiful just as she was. There was nothing plain about her.
He crossed the distance between them to lean over her and kiss her firmly on the mouth, letting her know his acquiesce, and she pulled him down on top of her eagerly. Her hands pushed his shirt up and over his head, lips finding his immediately, enthusiastic but not rushed.
Stiles adjusted them so they were more comfortable, interlocking their fingers beside her face as he kissed her long and slow, treasuring every second.
He knew he didn't have forever. He knew they weren't going to get it all figured out before Void came back, and it was very possible he wasn't going to make it out of beating Void alive, but if this was his last moments as being himself, he was damn well going to make them count with the girl he loved.
Lydia was used to topping, to being in control, but it was different with Stiles. She felt safe underneath him, his lips trailing all over her skin. His body weight was comforting and warm. She felt loved and worshipped with him above her, not weak. It was everything she could have hoped for.
When his lips traced over her scar from the werewolf attack, her eyes teared up. She stroked his hair, arching her back slightly at the tickling sensation as he crossed over underneath her belly button, his touch so gentle.
She had never felt so safe with someone before.
Their clothes piled up on the floor, hands running over each other's skin, and their lips never parted.
When Stiles entered her, she gasped slightly, his forehead coming to lean against hers as they both breathed together. Once they found a rhythm, his lips covered hers again, stealing her breath as he set fire to her insides. Her nails dug into his back, ran down his spine, and her teeth dug into his bottom lip as his hips stuttering signalled his climax.
He lay on her, bearing most of his weight on one arm, as they caught their breath together, Lydia nuzzled her cheek against his, teasing his hair with one hand as she hugged him close. She never wanted to let him go. Why couldn't they stay like that forever?
Eventually, the draft in the basement got to be too much and they redressed themselves.
Both of them were hiding smiles, trying to keep themselves in line, but it was hard.
When they were both clothed, they settled back on the couch together, Lydia immediately curling up against his chest. His arm wrapped around her and his free hand took hers.
His fingers played with hers, eyes watching them.
"Lydia…"
"Stiles, can we just… can we just be here for a while? Just us? No supernatural chaos looming, no drama. Just Stiles and Lydia."
He pressed a quick peck to her forehead. "Okay."
She nuzzled closer, exhaling slowly. She knew this was wasting their precious time, and it was selfish to ask Stiles to keep his mouth shut when he likely would be unable to speak his own words soon enough, but she just couldn't handle another goodbye just yet. She wanted to treasure the feeling of the normalcy of cuddling with him after what they just shared. She needed to anchor the memory in her mind so she'd have something to look back on later. She was grateful she had the memory what they just did forever burned in her mind. Selfish or not, she was glad it happened.
Stiles was too. He was glad he was himself when it happened. It may not have been a fairytale lovemaking the way literature made it seem perfect, but it was perfect to him because it was just them.
"Stiles?"
"Mm?"
"No matter what happens, I want you to know I have no regrets. Of meeting you, getting pulled into this world, of falling for you, of this. I could never regret anything to do with you. You have no idea how much you've changed my world."
Stiles smiled, eyes wet.
"Right back at you."
He wanted to say something more, those three words that always seemed to be sitting on his tongue around her, but she was looking past his shoulder before he could, something clearly catching her eye.
"Stiles." Lydia whispered, breaking away from him and going towards the wall between the furnace and stairs.
He got up to follow her, immediately seeing what caught her eye. The Kanji symbol for 'self', what the Oni left branded on those who did were not possessed.
Lydia knocked on the wall. He understood, even without the resounding echo that followed. It wasn't a typical wall. It was hollow behind it. It was covering up something.
Stiles grabbed a rod leaning against one of the furnaces and waited for her to back up before he swung it into the wall.
He cracked the wall over and over until a large hole crumbled away. Ducking down, Lydia joined him to peer inside.
There was a bandaged body sitting inside the cavity, bandages across every visible body part. The skeleton was dressed in some sort of army wear.
"This is him."
"The nogitsune?"
He nodded.
"That looks like the holder Kira's katana is held in." Lydia commented, pointing towards the sword strung across his body.
Stiles didn't know if that was helpful or not. Nogitsunes were from Japanese folklore, so it would make sense if it had been a Japanese warrior. Seeing the pocket flap on the chest, Stiles reached inside and pulled out an old photo.
"We have to get this to Scott." he said immediately.
"What is it? You recognize something?"
"Someone." he explained.
Before he could pass it over, a painful sensation exploded through every one of his neurons and he collapsed, gasping, on the floor.
He pivoted his body slightly, trying to see, as Lydia went down in similar fashion.
Oliver stood above them.
"I took Brunski's keys for you guys, but I took his stun gun. And his Haldol."
He injected it into Stiles' leg, and he went limp. A sedative.
"I can't go to sleep." Stiles gasped. "Oliver… what are you doing?"
"You remember me telling you they used to do trepanation down here?" He picked up a drill and turned it on, the tool whirring to life. "I'm going to let the evil spirits out."
