Wont be updating again before the next Teen Wolf
I just want to say thank you to the people who follow this story and have given reviews,
it really means a lot!
This story has gotten over 200 views so far this month and
it blows my mind that you guys like this plot so much!
I'm going to try to be more consistent and do the once a week thing
because its not fair to you guys for me to keep doing cliff hangers but thats the only way I cant get myself to write
(I honestly don't know whats going to happen next so if I leave it at a cliff hanger I have to write to find out lol)
Anyhoo, please leave some comments and keep reading -
You are all amazing!
They drove in silence through the rain, Stiles and Lydia. Lydia flexed her fingers on the steering wheel, looking as if she was trying to calm herself down. Stiles gazed out the window, lost in thought. They stayed like that for a good 15 minutes.
"Okay, so are you going to tell me whats going on or not?" Lydia demanded shrilly.
"All I did was find a cat." Stiles shrugged, a little dazed. "What could possibly happen. It was a normal cat. Just a normal everyday lost, abandoned cat. Yeah, it was big and yeah, it was smart, and yeah, it flushed the toilet, but why? Why couldn't it have been a normal cat?" Stiles spoke animatedly, smacking the back of his hand into his palm. "You know, I try to be a good person, okay? I see a sick cat, my best friend works at an animal shelter, what could go wrong. A war? Yeah, totally logical, you find a stray cat, obviously theres a war coming!" Stiles cranked his window down in frustration, slouching in his seat.
"So, it's not just a cat?"
"No it's not just a cat, Lydia!" Stiles shouted exasperatedly "It's a brain-washed fugitive Cat-Walker from a rogue pride of really bad Cat-Walkers that eats people, and kills were-wolves!"
Lydia stared intently at the road, her eyes frozen wide. "Okay," she said finally, "then who am I getting clothes for?"
"Her, the cat."
"But if she eats people and kills were-wolves, why would I give her my clothes?" she asked confusedly.
"She's not the bad guy," Stiles replied frustratedly "she's friends with Derek and she got hurt trying to find him and warn him that her bad-ass Alpha is coming to get him."
"Why is the Alpha after Derek?" she asked.
"He wants the Hale's territory, and now since almost all the Hales are dead – I guess it seemed easier for him to take it now, I don't know."
"So how'd she get hurt?"
"One of her pride slashed her up while I was at school" Stiles sighed sadly. Lydia slammed on the breaks, Stiles was burned by his seatbelt, they stopped in the middle of the deserted highway. "Wh-what are you-!?"
"Take off your shirt." demanded Lydia, Stiles didn't move. "Now Stiles!" Stiles looked at her incredulously and did what she asked.
"You've got her blood all over you, you don't think they can smell that?" she scolded, and took his shirt as soon as he had it over his head. She reached into the glove compartment, took out a lighter, lit the shirt on fire and threw it out the window. Stiles choked out a protest but had to shut his mouth quickly because Lydia was spraying her perfume all over him. "Did you get any on your pants?" she asked. Stiles checked, repressing a sneeze "Nope, I'm good."
"Good." and Lydia drove on as if nothing happened. "Now fill me in on the details."
Stiles recounted all he could remember from the day before, how he found her, Dr. Deaton's story, and filled in some assumptions he had.
"Then she woke up and told Derek that Renu was coming," Stiles left out the intimacy of their conversation, feeling something that was a mixture of anger and jealousy "then she went all stiff and started spouting nonsense."
"Nonsense? Was she, like having a seizure or something?" Lydia asked as she pulled into her driveway.
"No, her eyes started glowing this neon green color and..." he mused, closing the car door behind him "she looked like she was possessed."
"Possessed?" squeaked Lydia, her hand pausing on her front door.
"Not really possessed, Lydia." Stiles said hurriedly, recalling Lydia's stint with Peter Hale. "Will your parents mind that I'm here?" he added, to change the subject. Lydia had a very big house.
"Nope, both at work, and neither care." she said, walking up the stairs to her room. Stiles followed hesitantly. He wasn't sure if he was invited into her room, girls were kind of picky that way. So when they arrived he decided he would lean against the doorway so he was neither in nor out.
"So, what's she like?" she asked, suddenly cheerful.
"...I'm sorry?" Stiles gulped, trying to not be too awkward and comb every inch of Lydia Martin's Bedroom with his eyes.
"Catwoman. What's she like? I need to know how to dress her. What does she look like?" Lydia opened her closet purposefully, in her element.
"Well, uh, she about your size, maybe a little taller." Stiles began lamely.
"Okay," encouraged Lydia "Hair color, eye color, personality?"
"She's um... she has milky green eyes, lots of – lots of dark curly hair, she, she, I don't know Lydia, she was a cat the whole time I knew her, and when we actually had a conversation, she was screaming and bleeding everywhere." Stiles crossed his arms. "Do you have a shirt I could borrow?" he asked, suddenly aware of his nakedness.
Lydia reached up on her tiptoes to get a box off the top shelf in her closet labeled 'Jackson'. Stiles felt himself shrink a little. Jackson was a bigger guy then he was, plus his rival for several years in the quest for Lydia's heart, and also The last time they were all in a room together Lydia had proclaimed her love from him as he died. Sure he was alive and well now, but Jackson's clothes would be bigger on him and that made him self-conscious. But Lydia gave him a tee-shirt with a nice smile on her face and Stiles put it on gratefully.
"So, she's a fighter then? Someone who probably shouldn't be hindered by dresses. Also, she's in recovery, so comfortable clothes. She's taller then me, what type of skin does she have?" She asked, taking clothes out and holding them up to the mirror.
"Uhh, white."
"No I mean tone."
"... Caucasian?" he guessed. Lydia rolled her eyes.
"Okay, were her veins blueish or greenish under her skin."
"Blueish, I think." Stiles shrugged.
"Honestly, how do men even get dressed in the morning?" Lydia mumbled to herself, tossing a few more clothes on her bed. It wasn't too long before there was a fairly large pile and it didn't look like even a dent was made in Lydia's closet.
"Now, shoes!" she piped gleefully, "And some accessories!" Stiles smiled to himself. He often forgot this almost childlike side of Lydia. She was so often the genius, the banshee, the wack-o, the beauty, but rarely did she reveal this vulnerable young side to herself. Stiles felt a little warm spot in his chest looking at her fussing happily over matching the bracelets with jackets and belts. Lydia dug a suitcase out from under her bed and packed it expertly, fitting everything she felt was a necessity.
"Thats it, I think." she said, handing the surprisingly heavy bag to Stiles, whose knees buckled under it weight. She passed him out the door, her shoulder brushing his chest. He felt his heart pump in his ears. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw something. Turning back into the room, he recognized it instantly.
"Stiles?" called Lydia from the top of the stairs. She returned, "Whats wrong? Did I forget something?" she followed his eyes to the corner of her room, right between her dresser and the wall. She looked at him, blushing. Stiles face broke into a big crooked grin.
"Shut up." she scoffed, pushing him in the chest and heading toward the front door. Stiles followed her, heaving the bag but feeling lighter then air. Lydia had kept his birthday present.
They arrived at the clinic, Stiles took the suitcase out of the backseat and started towards the door. Realizing Lydia had not followed him, he looked around to see her still sitting in the driver's seat, hands clenched around the wheel. He put the bag down and walked casually back to the car. He leaned on her window.
"So, are you coming in or...?" he asked cautiously.
"Yeah, no, yeah I'm coming in, just um, just..." she flexed her hands nervously on the wheel.
"Okay," he stood, guessing she needed a moment. "I'll see you inside?"
"Yeah, I'll be right in." said Lydia, a few octaves higher then normal. Stiles nodded, retrieved the bag and went in the back door, hoping to avoid the pack. Mrs. McCall was there, hooking up an IV. She smiled at him.
"Hey, Stiles." she said kindly.
"Hi, Mrs. McCall. How is she?" Stiles asked, putting the bag down.
"She'll be fine. I'm not going to lie though, it was pretty close." Mrs. McCall took Five's pulse.
"I, uh, I brought her some clothes. Well, they're not my clothes, they're Lydia's. Lydia's clothes. I brought her some of Lydia's... clothes. Well, Lydia brought her some of her clothes, I just carried the bag of clothes." he stammered.
"So, I'm guessing these are Lydia's clothes." Mrs. McCall smirked, gesturing to the suitcase. Stiles scratched the back of his head.
"Yeaaah." he sighed, not really knowing what else to say. Mrs. McCall pulled up a chair and tied a rubber band around Five's upper arm, slapped the back of her hand a bit and inserted the IV needle. Five gasped, her eyes fluttered. She coughed weakly.
"Stiles?" she croaked. Stiles felt as if he had been struck by lightning, he tripped over nothing in his effort to get to her and grabbed the counter for support.
"He's right here." murmured Mrs. McCall soothingly. Fives fingers opened and closed as if trying to grab something. "She's asked for you a couple times, but she's pretty out of it." Stiles almost floated over to her. He pulled up a stool and wove his fingers between hers.
"Stiles?" she moaned.
"Yeah, yeah it's me. I'm here." he reassured her, rubbing his thumb lightly across her knuckles.
"Hi," she sighed, it sounded like she wanted to laugh.
"Hi, yourself." he grinned sadly.
"My name is Five, " she turned her wrist a little, as if trying to shake his hand. "I am very glad to have met you."
"The pleasure is all mine, m'lady." said Stiles, softly shaking back.
"You saved me," she rasped, turning her head to look at him. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion. "Twice. For that I am very grateful." Stiles shrugged.
"What else was I going to do?"
Five's brow furrowed, as if confused.
"You must forgive me, I did not mean to stain your honor. You have a good heart, I am not accustomed to the kindness of man." she smiled, "No, nor woman either." she nodded at Mrs. McCall, who smiled. "Thank you for your expertise, Lady Healer. And the Druid Male must receive my thanks as well."
"I will pass that along to him." said Mrs. McCall. She got up, Five's nostrils flared.
"Your son will be in need of medical attention, Lady Healer." she whispered "The Druid must examine the young wolf. I fear in my haste I may have scratched him." Mrs. McCall paused.
"I'm sure he'll be fine." she smiled amused, taking out some clothes from the suitcase.
"Healer, do not mistake me. Scratches are laughable on the likes of his kind, however when night falls, so will he. It will become poisonous if left unchecked." Five said seriously. Mrs. McCall looked at her, and nodded.
"My head feels heavy," said Five, blinking confusedly. With her IV hand she pushed herself up. The IV pulled. "What is this contraption?" she muttered, gazing at the clear tubing.
"It's called an IV." said Mrs. McCall, looking pointedly at Stiles, indicating he should avert his eyes. "It's helping with the pain." Five looked intently at it, unable to focus entirely. Mrs. McCall pulled her arm gingerly through the sleeve of a shirt and up over Five's head.
"How is a small metallic stinger easing such pain?" she tried to get up off the table. "What is in this liquid? My veins feel hot."
"Woah now, easy. Lay back down." hushed Mrs McCall, hoisting sweatpants over the girl's hips. Five sat for a moment then slid off the table onto the ground with a soft flump.
"My legs are not cooperating." said Five a little dazed.
"Well, that because they're broken." said Stiles, trying to help her back onto the table. "Oh, alright. Okay, back on the table, there we go. You can't walk yet, you have to stay put."
"Actually, her bones are mended already, but she still shouldn't walk, because they're pretty fragile." Mrs. McCall whispered to Stiles.
"This is very disorienting." Five said, surprised. "What potion is this?"
"Morphine." said Mrs. McCall flatly, attempting to gently push Five into a horizontal position.
"It is very strange." Five mused, looking blankly around. "I can't find my fingers."
"Here they are." said Stiles waving her hand in front of her face, as if for a newborn child.
"You found them!" she smiled happily.
"Yes! I found them! Now why don't you lay down and try to sleep, okay? We don't want you to hurt yourself, do we?"
"No." she mumbled, inspecting her fingers.
"No we don't. Okay. Just lie down." he urged, helping Mrs. McCall. When they finally got her to lay down, she was almost asleep.
"Stiles, please don't leave." her voice broke in panic.
"I'm not leaving, okay?" he breathed, winding his hand in hers again, "I'm staying right here, see? I'm not moving. I'll be here when you wake up."
"Promise?" she whispered, fading into sleep,
"Promise." Before he knew it, Stiles' eyes had filled with tears.
In a white hospital, ages ago, he sat alone in the hall outside his mom's room with his head in his hands. Running footsteps. His father. The Sheriff slowed, seeing his son. Then at a pace that made oceans roar and winds whip, the Sheriff stormed down the hallway. But it was too late.
Stiles could not cry anymore, his eyes were dry, he couldn't swallow, he could barely breathe. He could die in that chair, for the strength it would take to move would rival Hercules'.
Earlier, running footsteps, a loud beeping. "I'm not leaving, okay? I'll be here when you wake up!"
"Somebody get the kid out of here!"
"Mom!"
"You can't be in here, come on now."
"No! Mom! MOM!"
"Somebody GET THE KID OUT OF HERE!"
"MOM!"
Thats when Lydia screamed.