Author's note: I really hope you guys are enjoying this so far, because I am certainly enjoying writing it. I also really enjoy reading reviews, so if you can, I would really appreciate it :) This is the third chapter and it's written in Lydia's point of view and I did switch tenses so hope you all don't mind. Enjoy!
Lydia.
She took the smallest of steps towards the open doorway, beyond which she could hear voices coming from. Deaton had a hand hovering near the small of her back as though he was afraid she might fall and if Lydia were being honest, with how unsteady she felt on her feet, she feared the same thing.
It was like ice had settled in the pit of her stomach and nothing Deaton had done had gotten rid of it. So she walked, with arms wrapped around herself and shivering, trying to keep her thoughts away from how cold she felt and the incident that had brought it on.
"Where's Stiles?" Lydia turned her head slightly to look at Deaton. "Is-is he here?"
She hated how vulnerable she sounded. She hated how vulnerable she felt. Like the answer to that question would decide whether she would take another step forward or not. Like the presence of that boy- that stupid, beautiful, self-sacrificing boy- would determine her strength. It was Peter all over again, and she may not have had Stiles with her then but she was sure she would not get through this without him now.
But he had been with her then.
It was Stiles who had stayed with her at the hospital after she'd been attacked by Derek's psychotic uncle. She'd never really made the effort to acknowledge his presence then but still, deep down, Lydia had been touched by his care and concern for her. He had offered to listen to her after he'd found her crying in her car. Yes, he had left and never actually returned for her to tell him anything. And yes, his apologies hadn't mattered because Lydia had put up her walls again and responded to his remorse with the usual fling of her hair and sarcastic dismissal.
He'd been there, though.
Back then she hadn't cared much for any sort of relationship with him. She had been too focused on Jackson and Peter and other important things like trying to keep her sanity. But now Stiles was important, more important than any of the heartbreak she had gone through for Jackson and definitely more important than her saneness. The only reason she had managed to keep her sanity when all of their worlds were currently filled with complete insanity was because of Stiles.
"He's here," Deaton assured her with a small smile. "He left for a bit, but he came back when I was bandaging you up."
As if to confirm this, Stiles' voice rang out, distinct and sharp and held some sort of warning. "Cora."
Despite his tone, Lydia felt herself drowning in relief and a strange but comforting sense of familiarity. She started moving a bit faster toward the next room, feeling eager and desperate at the same time, and had his name on her lips and then- slammed right into the form of another Hale who she was not exactly fond of.
Derek's sister, who was usually all deadpan faces and threats, actually looked slightly apologetic as Lydia straightened from the impact.
"Lydia-hey-" Stiles eyes were wide with concern as he approached her. "You okay?"
She nodded faintly, not quite meeting his eyes. Her earlier to crushing need to see him seemed to have settled, and she was now left feeling awkward and anxious thinking about the last time she had seen him.
And not really been able to see him at all.
She had remembered him restraining her, pleading with her to stop. All she had really seen, however, was blood and monsters erupting through the flesh of her stomach and the face of the devil- heard the voice of the devil.
He stepped closer and she saw his hand reach out hesitantly to where some of her bare skin and strips of gauze were visible under the torn pieces of her dress. He looked up to her eyes just as he she had gathered the courage to meet his. He dropped his hand and whether it was because of the gauze that served as a testament to the harm she had inflicted on herself or the terror of past experiences that he could see in her eyes, his jaw flexed and he was looking at her with that look. The look that told her that he knew that she was not, in fact, okay.
"Stiles, we need to ask her-" Cora's voice penetrated the silence.
"No, we don't," Stiles said flatly, his voice sounding tired. "I told you, I talked to the twins at school. It wasn't them."
"Have you thought that maybe they could, you know, lie?"
"Why would they do that to her, Cora, tell me that?" Stiles demanded. "Trust me, I'm not one to jump to the defence of those two assholes- but how exactly would that have benefitted them? Poisoning her with wolfsbane?"
"Perhaps it wasn't wolfsbane-" Deaton had begun to say but Cora spoke over him.
"They are clearly interested in her for something-"
Lydia cut her off. "It…wasn't them. It wasn't Aidan."
"Look, I know you don't want to believe your boyfriend or whatever he is would want to hurt you-"
"I'm not an idiot," And suddenly, Lydia was annoyed at the fact that this was the second time she had to defend her intelligence to this girl. "I'm far from it, in fact. Aidan is not my boyfriend. He is not anything to me for me to defend if he hurt me. He is a part of the Alpha Pact. I have no reason to not suspect him of this. But logically, Stiles' is right. And there is nothing that Aidan did today that would lead me to believe this happened because of him."
There was a pause and then Cora seemed to have decided to back off with the Aidan accusation as she asked. "Then what was this?"
Before Lydia could shake her head and tell her that she had absolutely no idea, Deaton had decided that it was time to call it a day. "It's gotten dark. We'll try to figure this out tomorrow. But now, Lydia needs to rest and it's not doing anyone any good to keep peppering her with questions right now."
And then she realized that, although she hadn't ever stopped shivering, she was trembling a lot harder now. The day had taken its toll on her and she wanted nothing more than to wrap herself in enough bed sheets to thaw the ice inside of her and fall asleep. Everyone seemed to notice because next thing she knew Deaton was walking towards the back saying something about finding blankets and Stiles was pulling off his red sweater.
"It's okay, I got it," Stiles carefully pulled it over her shoulders and she instantly felt better, swathed in the warm sweater that was big on her and held Stiles' soothing scent.
She mumbled a thanks and let him lead her to the front door as Cora followed. Stiles stopped as he pushed the door open and let them pass him, and looked at Deaton. "See you tomorrow."
Lydia looked over her shoulder at him as well. He nodded at Stiles and then his gaze fell on her. The smile he sent her way did not reach his eyes. "Take care, Lydia."
Offering a weak smile in return, Lydia nodded. Stiles let the door close behind them and as he guided her to his jeep, Lydia wasn't sure what had frightened her more. What she had seen and heard in the clinic's restroom or the deep grimness in Deaton's eyes as he'd observed her.
"I'm going to drop Lydia off first so she can get some rest, alright, Cora," Stiles said, glancing at her in the rear-view mirror.
"Yeah," she responded and then sighed. "We're going to have to ask Deaton about what Lydia found about the Darach tomorrow too. He never actually got around to answering us."
Lydia saw Stiles nod vaguely, the way he was staring straight ahead at the road telling her that he was deep in thought about something else. She wondered what it was that he was thinking about. Was it her? Was he already thinking about ways to help her, the way he always dropped everything and did whenever something happened to her?
She had found something in her research at school about the true nature of the Darach and Stiles had suggested visiting Scott's mysterious but seemingly omniscient boss for more answers. Cora, who despite holding the Alpha Pact as her number one threat, seemed to have taken an interest in the Darach as well and tagged along. And yet, the severity of the Darach had paled in comparison to whatever it was that had happened to her today. As if the combined troubles of the Alpha Pact and the Darach weren't enough, Lydia had now caught the attention of some other evil creature intent on making her hallucinate to her death.
"Stiles," she said quietly. He turned to look at her and Lydia found herself unable to maintain eye contact, and dropped her gaze to her lap. "Can I…can I stay with you tonight?"
Stiles' eyes widened in surprise. A couple of months ago, she was sure that if she had asked him the same question, he would have been reduced to a stuttering mess and looked much like he had after seeing her emerge from the woods sans any clothing. But as sure as she was about that, she was even more certain that he would not react that way now. She knew she was right when, after a few moments, his eyes softened and he nodded.
"Yeah, of course," he assured her as he signaled to change lines, heading to Derek's loft instead. "Do you want me to take you to your house, though? Wouldn't you be more comfortable that way? I can stay with you there."
Lydia shook her head. "I don't want to go home."
And then she looked at him and hoped that he wouldn't pick now of all times to lose his ability to read her eyes. I don't want to go to that house, to that room, where my freaky banshee powers wake me up screaming. I don't want to be in the room where Peter haunted me for so many nights. And I definitely don't want to say all this out loud when his niece is sitting right behind me.
Fortunately, he seemed to read her in an instant and smiled gently before focusing on the road again.
Lydia wondered if her eyes had betrayed her strongest reason behind refusing to go home. I don't want to go to that house because it's not home. You are.