Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf.
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Don't you dare look out your window darling, everything's on fire
The war outside our door keeps raging on.
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Lydia sank lower in the padded lawn chair, wrapping her hands around her cup of hot tea. Her green eyes watched the gauzy fabric that floated in her pool, drifting between the water jets and turning this way and that like a fine mist. The sun reflected prettily on the rhinestone details, sending shining wine colored beams across the pool bottom. She raised her steaming cup of Earl Grey to her mouth, blowing softly before taking a slow sip. She didn't greet him as he slid into the chair next to hers.
"Prom dress?" He asked, nodding towards the long fabric that floated gently in her pool. He frowned as a jet finally caught it, tugging it to the blue depths. He saw the glitter of jewelry in the shallow end, the dress like a mermaid's tail in the false current the pool created. Lydia lifted a remote, a light turning on in the pool. It silhouetted the dress and caused the jewels on the bodice to sparkle like scales. It flowed like smoke through the depths, turning this way and that.
"Yup." Lydia popped, bringing her tea up to her mouth and inhaling. She watched the three thousand dollar custom made dress meet its watery grave. She'd had it since last year, hanging in a satin dust bag. It was the prom dress. Not too gauzy, not too svelte. Wine silk and swavorski, cut perfectly to flatter her shape, dyed the perfect color to match her tones. Beautiful dress. Truly beautiful dress.
She'd had a tie dyed to match. For Jackson.
She'd cut that up .
Taking another sip of her tea, Lydia tucked her barefeet underneath her. She wiggled her toes. "I kept the shoes." She said, enjoying the heat of the tea through the long sleeves of her sweater. It dwarfed her, coming down to her knees and a good three inches over the tips of her hands. It was an awful mustard yellow. The ugliest thing she owned really. She didn't even know where she'd gotten it. Maybe something horrible her Grandmother had knit her for her birthday or Christmas. The woman had no clue to her measurements, thinking her taller and tanner. It really was a bad thing and she had no clue as to why she'd put it on that afternoon. No fucking clue.
Isaac frowned at it, wrinkling his nose. "This what you did instead of going to school today?" He asked, picking up the remnants of a silk tie. Good weight silk too. He assumed it matched the dead dress. He also assumed it was for Jackson. Jackson, who had swaggered up and down the halls like he was a King. Jackson who was going to have a rude awakening come pack time. Jackson wasn't an Alpha. He was barely a Beta. He was younger than them, weaker than them. He wasn't the scary Kanima anymore. Now he was just a loose wolf who needed his ass kicked.
Lydia met the end of her teacup with a frown, setting it on the table in front of her. She had a whole pot made inside. Still warm probably. Maybe she could convince Isaac to make it for her. Five sugars and two milk. Her green eyes slid over to him. He was watching her dress drown with a tired look on his face, slumped down low in his chair with his chin placed in his palm. She let her teacup grow cold, remembering his question. "I thought it was pretty productive." She muttered, staring down at her pink painted porcelain teacup. It had white wisteria on it and a saucer to match. Part of a heirloom pattern set. She should have used a bigger cup. Maybe a Thermos. Sighing heavily, she rested her head on the back of the chair and turned it to watch his profile. He had a good bone structure, outlined by the sun behind him. Good nose, good cheekbones. He looked oddly delicate, like he was made of porcelain too. Like the too realistic dolls her grandmother kept. He looked like bone China, but Lydia knew he wasn't made of it. She'd seen the beating he took. Heard about others he'd received at his own Father's hands. But he was a werewolf now. No one could truly hurt him. At least not physically.
Idly, she wondered how vulnerable his mind was. His body may have strengthened but she doubted he was impenetrable to mental trauma. She wondered just how hard it would be to get him to break. To snap. She'd snapped. She'd snapped easily. Quickly. She wondered if he'd last any longer. "Anything interesting happen?" She asked, suddenly bored of her train of thought. At least the tea had given her something to do. She sighed again.
Isaac shrugged his shoulders, turning to look at her. She'd slept while he'd been at school, the haggard rings under her eyes paled to mere fingerprint smudges. Easily covered by her makeup. It was strange to see. Her hair and makeup done perfectly but her clothing an old, ugly, ratty, and stretched out puke yellow sweater. But then again he imagined Lydia didn't check the mail without mascara. She was too high maintenance. He j knew it was a well placed mask. He could practically smell the crazy on her. Like a dog that wasn't getting better. She was only getting worse. "Chemistry quiz, pep rally," he shrugged his shoulders, adding as an after thought: "Werewolves pretending to be normal students and not face eating monsters. Everyday stuff."
Lydia sniffed and he accepted it as a laugh, her green eyes rolling upwards and her head slowly following. It exposed her long pale neck, the pulse beating slowly in her throat. He noted it'd be so easy to tear it out with his sharp teeth. There'd be pressure then the skin would break, giving way with a 'pop'. She smelled like bergamont and downers, a heavy mix she masked with some floral perfume. The tea smelled familiar, sweet with milk and honey. Sugar. He reclined in his chair, kicking his feet up to the chair across from him and looking up to the porch roof. It was painted a pale, pale blue. A haint blue like they used to do a long time ago. To make any ghost fly up instead of in. He wondered if they'd painted it for that reason or if it was simply to match the pool.
"You okay to travel?" He asked suddenly, looking from the ceiling to her. Lydia screwed her face up in distaste. Isaac ignored it. "They said they need to see you. I'm playing errand boy." He'd gotten a text from Derek during last period, asking him to bring Lydia to the Hale house. They needed to talk to her and he wasn't in a position to say no. The Alpha had asked Erica to do it before him, but she'd responded that Isaac was the one sporting the redhead's scent. Derek hadn't even questioned.
Lydia groaned, rolling her eyes. "I didn't plan on putting pants on today." She muttered to herself. She just wanted to sit on the porch, watch her dream-turned-nightmare dress drown, and drink enough tea to bleed bergamont. But here comes the downer dogs to ruin it all. Didn't they have more important things to do? Like flea baths and bone burying. Chasing squirrels. Pissing on trees.
Isaac smirked, shrugging his shoulders and raising his eyebrows in tandem. "I won't make you." He told her, eying her bare legs. All he could see were her calves, tucked under her and only showing the outer half. He chuckled, shaking his head. She was being indulgent and a little bit inappropriate. "But I'd recommended a pair of panties at least."
Lydia shrugged, flipping her hair off her shoulders as she seamlessly sat up. "I don't wear any." She told him smoothly, knowing it was a lie. She had them on right now. A pair of white lace boy shorts. The only time she went camando was in skinny jeans and dresses, but with dresses she always had a slip on so that counted. She wondered if he could tell she was lying.
Isaac couldn't. She lied so smoothly like she was just breathing. There was no catch in her pulse, no scent change. He had to wonder if she really was bare under that tacky sweater. He had to admit that it was a very appealing thought. The idea that underneath that sweater was the girl of every Beacon high school boy's dream, naked. It was a good thought. He smirked, "Must be chilly." He told her, raising a brow.
Lydia waved her hand dismissively, the glitter on her manicured nails catching the sunlight like stars. "I don't mind the cold." She told him, playing along. She knew she was playing with fire, but it was too fun to stop. She licked her dry lips, a slow smile forming on her mouth. Isaac watched her pink tongue dart out, tracing her full pout. It didn't smear her dark lipstick and he wondered if she practiced it in the mirror. When she wasn't wearing panties. Sighing she pushed up from the table, looping her finger through her teacup.
She'd go to the Hale house for the puppy dog pow-wow. She had nothing else to do. Except...
"Isaac?" Lydia stopped, turning and looking at him over her shoulder. He'd been watching her walk, his eyes dark as he looked up at her. She smirked lifting the hem of her sweater and showing her ass, the white lace boy short panties. "It does get cold."She walked inside to the sound of Isaac
laughing.
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They walked through the woods. Isaac said it was easier. Lydia said that he was a shitty liar. She'd gone up to her room and changed into more appropriate clothing, coral skinny jeans and a cream off the shoulders top. Isaac could see the scars the attack had left on the pale skin of her shoulder. He could also see, from his vantage point behind her, that she had no panty line. She'd done it on purpose he was sure.
Lydia looked up at the burnt down Hale home with almost an air of boredom. She was tired of this old song and dance. Wasn't there something else going on? She wished an earthquake would hit or some local bigshot would die horribly so that they'd all have something new to talk about. Maybe a fire in the supermarket. Walking up the surprisingly put together stairs she entertained the thought of arson, tucking her hands in her back pockets. If Allison's aunt could do it...
Peter Hale opened the door and she didn't even blink. She was numb, bored. Crazy. She breezed by him without a glance, taking a left and sitting on the dirty couch. It was going to ruin her pants. She just knew it. She didn't like them much anyway. She could buy new pants. Maybe she'd go to Macy's after this. Buy something to match the prom heels she'd kept. Something...strappy. She liked strappy. Jackson hated strappy.
Erica was there, Boyd beside her. Derek was in the corner with some big old musty book (it matched the big old musty house) and Scott was leaning up against the wall beside him. Looking paranoid. She wondered when she'd learned these people's names. They weren't really important to her. They didnt matter in her life. Leaning her elbow on the soot coated armrest she considered taking up smoking, twirling her hair around her free fingers. Those long brown cigarettes or the sweetly scented skinny ciggarillos the pot heads smoked. The ones with the pale plastic filters. Cigarettes would curb her appetite. Jackson hated them. She liked the smell of the brown ones. They smelled off. Different. She wondered if the guy at the gas station that talked to her boobs would sell them to her. She popped her gum. Loudly.
"Why am I even here?" She asked loudly, rolling her eyes. These guys were boring. Shouldn't they be doing werewolf stuff? Could someone please crash through a wall? Start growling? Who did she have to raise from the dead to get a little entertainment?
Peter Hale walked in and she finally noticed his pirate facial hair. She actually leaned away from it, even though he was all the way across the room. It was...not okay. She should have left him in the ground. "Do you mean in life? The cosmic sense? Or here? In this place, in this time?" He asked, leaning against the wall. Lydia rolled her eyes. Lame.
Derek walked forward with his big old book, breaking the flow before Lydia could even form a sharp response. "We're here to talk about Jackson." He said dramatically and everyone perked up. Everyone but the redhead.
Lydia groaned, crossing her arms and slumping down on the couch. "Jackson, Jackson, Jackson." She whined, rolling her eyes. "Can't we talk about something else?" She asked, looking across the room for some support. She got none. Of course not. Don't piss of the big bad Alpha. "Like roaming bands of stray cats taking over the tri-state area?"
Scott looked shocked, a frown forming on his face. He looked genuinely worried. "Is...is that happening?" He asked, looking around the room. Isaac shook his head, sitting down on the couch next to Lydia. Really?
The red head threw her arm out, raising her brows. "Maybe!" She said loudly, "How would we even know if all we do is talk about Jackson!"
Derek rolled his eyes, dropping the book to the floor. It was all on Peter's laptop anyway. "Fine. The Alpha pack." He told the children, shooting Lydia a glare. If she said anything... She didn't, smirking and leaning back in the couch. Isaac grinned beside her, shaking his head. Children. They were all children. Childish brats. He sighed. "There's a pack of Alphas coming to take my spot." He told them, turning to pace. "They've left their mark already."
"Did they pee on your door?" Lydia asked sarcastically, Isaac elbowed her sharply making her "Oof." And glare at him. He pressed his finger to his lips in the universal sign of shh, smirking. She elbowed him back, right in the ribs.
Derek ignodre the question, continuing his pacing. "They attacked Erica and Boyd this morning. They let them leave though, but not without a warning." He waved his hand and Boyd stood, raising the back of his shirt. A weird triangular pattern was carved into the boy's massive back, perfectly. Erica lifted the stomach of hers. Her pattern was not as perfect. Lydia knew she had fought. "This is their mark." Derek said, letting his pack set down. Lydia felt Isaac stiffen beside her, his grip on the back of the couch causing the wood to creak.
Derek powered onward. "I don't know what tactics they'll use." He said darkly, shrugging his shoulders. "There's four of them. I don't know if they'll try to divide you between them. I don't know if they'll kill eachother to get to you." He growled slightly and Lydia raised her brows. "I don't know anything about them."
Everyone looked to Peter, the oldest of the group. He raised his hands in retreat, stepping back to the foyer. "I was never a pack Alpha." He told them, waving his hands. "They never came after me."
Derek rolled his eyes, turning them towards Lydia. The girl met his glare, fearless. Disrespectful. "I'm really grateful you brought that back." He snarled, Lydia just grinned. Derek fell serious suddenly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Which is why I've brought you here." He said slowly, causing Lydia to sit up a little straighter. "I don't know how you did it...and I don't know how they'll react to that."
Lydia's mouth curled down like she'd tasted something bitter, her brows furrowed. "So even though I'm not some creature...they'll still be coming after me?" She asked, bringing a leg up and under her. She was confused. From what she'd been told she was immune, a pack of Alpha werewolves should want nothing to do with her. Hadn't they heard? She'd been running around curing people. Ruining their scaley murder sessions. They really should just steer clear of her and her cure love.
Everyone else fucking was.
Derek didn't have an answer for her. "I just want everyone to be on their toes." He proclaimed, leaning and picking his ancient book back up. "They'll attack when we aren't expecting it. Probably one by one." He crossed his arms, his big hands holding the book easily. "If they get you alone they'll take you or kill you."
The word caused a wave of discomfort to slither through the group, causing Lydia to fidget. Erica however, didn't fidget.
She snapped.
"Great!" The blonde suddenly bolted up, throwing her arms into the air. She looked wild, tired. Done. "First the Argents are torturing me. Then the werewolves are." She choked on a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "I'm sixteen years old." She spat, collapsing down into the seat. It was too much. All too much. Lydia frowned, "I can't even drive!" Erica pouted, crossing her arms.
The redhead frowned. How the hell did they switch from torture to driver's ed? "I'll teach you." Lydia offered, smacking her gum. She was bored. This was boring. The same story over and over again. There was always something after them. They were quite a hot topic. Everyone wanted there own rag tag werewolf weirdo. Seemed they were the new Chihuahua. She pushed up from the couch, dusting her ass off. "Got nothin' better to do." She shrugged.
Erica looked shocked, really everyone did. "W-what?" She stammered, her brow furrowed. Lydia Martin did not offer to teach people how to drive. Unless she wanted something. Maybe she had a chauffeur's hat in her trunk. Erica didn't care. She wanted to learn."Really?" She asked, the shock gradually wearing off. She'd wear the goddamn hat if it mean she'd learn to drive. She'd happily Drive Miss Crazy. No one else was going to teach her.
Lydia was already headed for the door, not a backwards glance as she wrapped her perfect hair around her manicured finger. "Mmmhm." She said, opening the door. She gave that patented over her shoulder smirk that all the boys loved. "Lets go now." She said, "You can drive me to the store."
Erica mentally readied herself, to put on the Chauffeur cap for Lydia. She shot a look to the pack behind her, her Alpha merely shrugged. No one really knew. Scott just looked confused. Isaac wondered what Lydia wanted from Erica. "Okay." She said, following the girl out.
Lydia was right. The creeper at the gas station did let her buy her long brown cigarettes. And a pretty lilac lighter too.
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An: So, I'm trying to get my angst out with this story. A gritty reboot kinda thing. I hope I don't piss anyone off. I'm kind of...playing with the characters here so I can keep them in character in my other fic, Of Love and Insanity. I know, excuses, excuses. Whatever. I hope you enjoy it anyway!