Author's Note: I'm back! I was asked a few questions so I'll answer them. The only pairing this story will have is Stydia and that will be a slow build. As for the reason that Alison doesn't know the Winchesters, I will address it. Hope you enjoy this chapter!
"I guess what scares me the most now is the thought that I won't be able to protect you."
― Julia Hoban
Lydia tries not to let the residual panic overtake her as she lies in her bed that night. She keeps her breathing low and even, trying to steady her wildly pounding heart, but to no avail. Somewhere, there's a demon king after her, ready to kill her all for the sake of powering up some ancient weapon. No matter how many times she tries to keep her mind blank, his smug expression appears in her mind's eye, his voice whispering in her ear, banshee.
She sits up and glances at her clock—2:15 am.
Grimacing, she tosses the sheets off of her bed and places her bare feet on the cool wooden floor. Her mother is out of town and the house seems scarier than she remembers it, even though she knows the house is locked and as secure as she could make it. The Winchesters had even put sigils and salt on the windowsills, some sort of protection from demons and other things that went bump in the night.
It does little to reassure her though.
Flicking on her room light, she glances down the long hallway. She feels like she's five years old again, afraid to go down the corridor for the fear that some ghost will pop out from around the corner and kill her.
There's a sound that comes from downstairs and suddenly, the young woman freezes. She waits again and she hears it again, a sort of shuffling coming from the living room and the dread within her escapes from its cage and courses through her veins. Returning to her room, she glances around for a weapon of some sort to defend herself. She settles for a heavy chemistry textbook, but she admits to herself that this isn't the best weapon to have on hand. Pulling her phone out, she quickly punches in Scott's number, only to get his voicemail.
"Scott," She whispers, trying not to let the sheer panic leach into her tone, "I'm trying not to freak out, but someone is downstairs in my house. Please come."
Carefully, she moves downstairs, doing her best not to make any noise herself. She needs the element of surprise on her side and hopefully, she'll be able to incapacitate whoever, or whatever, is down there before making a break for it. It might not be the best plan, but it's what she's got.
There's something moving under the pile of blankets on her couch and Lydia grits her teeth, trying not to freak out completely. She comes as close as she can manage and then is about to slam the textbook down when suddenly, the blankets are thrown off and there isn't a monster under the covers it's—
"Stiles!" She exclaims and suddenly, his eyes are wide open and she can't help but drop the book in shock.
"Ow, Lydia!" He shouts, rubbing his head from where the textbook collided with his skull. "Why did you do that?"
"What are you doing hiding under my covers?" She snaps, punching him in the shoulder. "How did you even get in here?"
He chuckles somewhat at her perplexed expression, "Lydia, I know you hide the spare key under the ceramic cat."
"So, what?" She huffs, her racing heart pounding within her chest. "You just break in without telling me?"
Stiles glances away, muttering softly, "I just was . . . worried."
She sighs somewhat, then takes a seat beside him. Though he nearly gave her a heart attack, she can't help but admit that she feels better knowing he's here. Resting her head on his shoulder, she closes her eyes and tries to pretend like she isn't being hunted down by a demon king or that her friends are once again in danger. In this moment, she's just a teenager, taking comfort from someone she cares for.
"Lydia?" Stiles' nudges her and she opens her eyes, meeting his gaze. His brow is furrowed and he regards her with a bit of worry in his gaze. "You okay?" He grips her hand within his own and she smiles softly.
"I'm glad you came."
He doesn't say anything for a few moments and she shuts her eyes, letting herself be fully present in this moment.
"Lydia?"
She doesn't open her eyes, the rush of adrenaline now crashing. She's tired and needs to get back to her bed and get some rest. Who knows what the next few days would be like? She needs to get as much rest as she can.
"Yeah?"
He huffs out a chuckle, and then squeezes her hand within his own.
"Nothing."
Together, they just sit there, savoring each other's company.
"You need to take some medicine."
Sam glowers at his brother, feeling like a petulant child then the adult he is.
"Don't give me that look," Dean snaps, pulling out a bottle of Ibuprofen and placing it on the small wooden table. "Last thing we need is for your fever to spike." The eldest Winchester parcels out the pills and hands them to Sam.
"We need to find Crowley." Sam tells his brother before dry swallowing the pills. He grimaces as they go down but then glances down on the books he's dragged in from the car. He needs to figure out more about this weapon and how to stop it before Crowley got it operational.
"We will," Dean assures him with an easygoing grin. "You just need to get some rest—"
"I've got the spare bedrooms made up," Alison informs them as the young huntress comes into the kitchen. She's in her sweatpants and a long, loose top. She's clearly ready for bed, but she does her best to keep herself alert and awake. "Is there anything else you need?"
"No," Sam replies softly. "You've done so much already."
"I do have a question though?"
Sam nods, gesturing for the chair next to him.
Sitting down, she asks, "How is it that I've never heard of you two before?"
Sam shares a glance with his brother, who shrugs.
Alison continues, "I mean, I know most of everyone in our community—"
"We're not involved in your community," Dean informs her with a smirk. "Our Dad was kind of off the grid. The people we know just really work on their own."
"Is that so?" The young huntress remarks, rubbing her eyes. She tries to suppress a yawn, but fails.
"You should get some rest." Dean comments and Alison rises from the chair, nodding her head.
"If you guys need anything—"
"Go get some rest." Sam order softly and she chuckles before disappearing down the hall.
"They're all pretty relaxed," Dean remarks. "You know, considering the fact that the King of Hell is targeting them."
"Sounds like it isn't the worst thing they've been through." Sam flips through the pages of the book, trying to focus his gaze enough to be able to read the small print. "I only got a bit from Scott, but for teenagers, it's a miracle that they've survived."
"Yeah." Dean says quietly.
Sam opens his mouth to say something, but a cough suddenly wracks his body, stealing all his breath and causing his vision to blur.
"Easy, Sammy, breathe," Dean rubs circles on his brother's back, trying to ease the passage of oxygen into his little brother's lungs. "Just hang on."
The coughing fit soon passes, but it drains all the energy from Sam and Dean sighs softly.
"C'mon, let's get you to bed."
"I need to get through this chapter—"
"Bed, Sam. Now."
"Dean—"
Dean pulls his brother up from the chair and guides him towards the stairs, "The books will still be there in the morning."
Reluctantly, Sam allows himself to be taken to the guest room.
Scott smirks as he calms his wilding beating heart.
"Guess you're okay." He whispers as he glances at his two friends, both asleep in each other's grasp.
Stiles has one arm wrapped around Lydia's waist and Lydia is burrowed in the crook between Stile's neck and his shoulder. Both of them are asleep, blissfully unaware of anything else in the world.
When he'd received Lydia's frantic message, he'd been expecting the worst, but now, he's glad that this is a false alarm. He'll stay here for the rest of the night, just in case something happens, but for right now, he's glad that everything is okay.
"Goodnight, you two."
His friends just sleep on.
Author's Note: Next chapter, Crowley sets his plan into motion. Please review if you have a moment. Thanks!