Here's chapter two, hope you guys like it!

I own nothing Teen Wolf.

Chapter Two

Heal-

Lydia:

I never let go of Stiles, and he never lets go of me. Scott had taken the jeep which left Stiles free and clear to come with me. We sat in the back seat of my mother's car for the ride home. Well, it was more like I laid, clinging to Stiles and wincing through all the bumps of the road. Though I don't have a lot of visible, external injuries, I had been tortured for quite some time. Once I had let all of the pent up emotions out through my tears back at the clinic, I realized I was in pain. Melissa had brought some pain meds from the hospital for me, but the pills I had taken hadn't kicked in yet and the bit of pain that Scott had drawn from me only lessened the intensity for a short time. I was freezing and everything ached, my bones, my skin, my head especially, and the bruises on my ankles and wrists.

By laying on Stiles, his body absorbs most of the jostling from the road. He keeps whispering how sorry he is, how he should have gotten me out earlier, that he wishes he could take the pain. Though I wish I could ease his worry by saying,

"It doesn't hurt that badly,"

I know that he would see right through me and continue to fret over me. He is cradling me so gently that it makes me want to cry. Though the rest of my body hurts, my head is cradled so tenderly in the crease between his bicep and collar that the pain is soothed. His ever emotion filled eyes bore into mine as he continues to apologize and caress my cheek with his thumb. I allow myself to wallow in the emotion in his stare and I don't know if it's that or the pain meds, but the rest of my body begins to calm and the pain starts to dissipate slightly.

When the car stops, Stiles helps me get vertical and practically carries all of my weight as I lean on him with my arm over his shoulder and his protectively around my waist. We head to the door and upstairs to my room. My mother went straight into the kitchen as we came in. Now I can feel the meds starting to kick in, and it allows me to move more freely on my own as Stiles sits me on the edge of my bed, sitting next to me and keeping his hold on my waist. I lean my head against his collar and we both just breath for a minute. I know I desperately need to shower to feel human again, but I need to build up some strength to do so, as well as wick as much warmth from Stiles as possible considering how cold I am. My mother yells up the stairs,

"I'm getting some tea ready for you and making some soup, something easy for your stomach."

I reply with a very hoarse,

"ok, thank you!"

I try to get up to get my things together for a shower, but Stiles holds me there firmly, catching my eyes with his. He needs to be reassured that I'll be ok on my own for a few minutes, so I bring my hand to his jaw and caress his cheek with my thumb, giving him a slight smile. He lets out a long breath and I'm met with his essence; the smell of spearmint, old spice, and something that I've never been able to place that's just him. He leans his face heavily into my hand and closes his eyes for a second. He must be exhausted too. Knowing him he probably hasn't slept properly in days, maybe even weeks. He opens his eyes and says exactly what I'm thinking,

"You need to shower, huh?"

I reply with a nod since I'm starting to realize how sore my throat is, along with the rest of me. He pulls me up and says while scratching the back of his neck,

"Get whatever clothes and, uh, stuff you need. I'll go get the shower water hot for you."

I smile a little wider than I had before and do as he says while he heads to my en suite bathroom to get the water running. A few seconds later, my mom comes in with the tea and soup and places the tray on my bedside table telling me,

"I have to go and get a few more meds and things from the drugstore that Deaton said you really should have, just in case. I'll be back as soon as I can. Are you doing ok sweetie? Will you be ok here with just Stiles for a bit?"

I respond with another hoarse, "yes," and a, "we'll be alright."

She gives me a light hug and whispers,

"I'm so glad you're ok, honey."

She backs up and looks me over, before smiling and heading out the door. I hear the front door close and then her car pull out of the driveway right before Stiles returns from the bathroom. He smiles slightly at me and pulls me by my waist to the bathroom. He deposits me there and as I pull out a towel from under the sink he leaves with saying,

"Uh, if you need me I'll just be," pointing toward my armchair, "right there."

He gives me an awkward smirk and I give him as brilliant a smile as I can muster as he closes the door. I begin to undress and realize just how sickly I look. It seems as though I've lost about ten pounds, my skin is a sickly blue/purple color, and my hair is dull and lifeless as well as wet and caked with blood. I clamber into the shower and am so thankful for its warmth. The hot water over my aching body begins to release the tension and I sigh heavily into the night. I wash my hair carefully, staying clear of the bandages that Deaton had applied to the hole. Next I gently wash my body of all the sweat, blood, and dirt, afraid to make the aching worse by scrubbing too hard. I can hear voices in my room, obviously my mother has returned and is talking with Stiles. I could faintly hear her say she is heading to bed and the door shutting behind her.

Though I've been in the shower for a good twenty minutes, I still can't get warm, so I decide to draw a bath with lots of bubbles. As I'm sitting in the hot water, my mind starts to drift to the numerous times I had felt the imminent death of my friends in the recent days and weeks, and especially Stiles'. My eyes flick to the door and I feel a pressure on my chest as my breathing increases, panic setting in. I need to see him, I need to know he's ok. I call out as calmly as I can, so as not to alarm him,

"Stiles? Can you come in here, please?"

I hear him move quickly to the door and say,

"Lydia, are you ok? Are you sure I can come in?"

He slowly opens the door and pops his head in with his eyes closed, ever the gentleman. As soon as I can see him, my breathing slows considerably, but I know it won't slow completely until I can have him right next to me, until I can touch him. I take as deep a breath as I can to reply,

"Yes, I'm sure. There's bubbles, you can't see anything."

He slowly opens his eyes and is almost instantly at my side, noticing my quickened breathing. He's kneeling next to my claw foot tub staring intently into my eyes. I reach my hand that's closest to him for his which he is ungracefully flitting about my head, trying to figure out how to help the naked girl in front of him. I lace my fingers through his and grasp his big, warm hand to my still cold cheek. I close my eyes and my breathing begins to slow to normal, as I drink in his presence. He notably relaxes when he sees that my breathing has normalized and that I'm smiling. He sits down on the stool next to my tub, rubbing his thumb over and over the back of my hand. I don't know how long we sit like that, but the warm water of the bath begins to go cold, even though it had done a lack luster job at getting me warm even when it was hot, I know it's time to get out. I ask Stiles for my towel and he asks,

"Do you need me to go?"

I reply with,

"Please don't?" It comes out like a question, "Maybe just turn around while I towel off and get dressed?"

His honey brown eyes go a bit wide, but he nods shortly and spins on his heal, slapping his hands unceremoniously over his face. I giggle a little at that, which sounds so odd after having only screams and echoes and demands to be heard for so long. I quickly towel off and dress in baggy sweats and a BHHS sweatshirt. Saying, "All done," when I finish. I still can't believe it's my voice, it sounds like I've been smoking a pack a day for years. Stiles turns slowly, as though I was lying and am going to be standing naked behind him. He tells me,

"I'm going to go grab the bag of my stuff your mom picked up from my house on her way from the drug store. I'll be back in a sec."

He leaves the door open so I can see him while I get my toothbrush and toothpaste together. He comes back quickly, and he gets his toothbrush out too. We brush our teeth together while I firmly hold onto the back of his flannel with my free hand. I turn to him when we finish and he frowns slightly,

"I uh, I need to change my clothes?"

I nod slowly and turn as he had, slapping my hands over my eyes. I hear him chuckle lowly and start to change his clothes. When he's dressed, he comes in front of me and lightly pulls my hands from my face, furrowing his brow at the bruises on my wrists. I watch the concern etched on his face and then realize that he still has a dried trail of blood from his left ear. I pull myself from his grasp and soak a washcloth is hot water. I sit him down on the edge of the tub and hold his face in my hands, gently wiping the blood from his ear and neck. After placing the washcloth in the hamper, he's leading me by my lower back to my bed in his flannel bottoms and t-shirt. Even at night he wears some kind of flannel, I guess. I start to get comfy on my usual side of the bed and quickly braid my hair to the opposite side of the hole in my head. I see stiles debating something in his head before he grabs a pillow from the bed and says,

"I'll just," pointing to the floor next to the bed, "sleep down here."

My eyes go a bit wide and I know I look like a deer in headlights, because I don't want to be alone, even if he is right beside the bed. I say determinedly,

"No you are not, I can't be alone right now, I can't be without you right now. Please?"

He sighs lightly and puts the pillow back on the bed, knowing I need him. I'm sure he can feel it too, the tether pulling us tighter than ever after having nearly lost either of its halves tonight. He turns to my bedside table and hands me the tea my mom had brought, and I drink it greedily as I'm thirsty and it makes my throat feel exceedingly better. He climbs in under the covers next to me and takes the empty cup, setting it back on the table. For proprieties sake, I'm sure, he attempts to keep a good distance between us under the covers when we both lay down facing one another. However, I'm not having that. I scoot over to him and wrap my arms behind his back, pulling him to me as tightly as possible, without hurting myself, and sticking my head in the hollow of his throat, my freezing nose on his neck. He starts a bit and is stiff for a second, but then relaxes and says,

"Oh my gosh, Lydia, you are so cold!"

He pulls me to his chest and begins rubbing his hand up and down the top of my arm, trying to get me warm. The shower hadn't warmed me at all, he seems to be the only thing that works. Maybe it's because he's my tether to the living world, and only he can pull me back from the death of my banshee world. With him so close, I warm up quickly, the smell of his throat soothing me. I feel him, very slowly, lingeringly, kiss my forehead and whisper,

"So glad you're ok, Lyds."

I quickly drift to sleep after that, finally warm and safe in his ever present arms.