Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Teen Wolf, or else Allie would be bowling with Scott. *cries for an eternity*

When she got to the Stilinski's household she rang the doorbell desperately waiting for someone to open the door. When the Sheriff saw her on her night-gown and a pair of high heels that didn't match, his eyes widened. "What is it?"

She moved past him and entered the house. As she ran up the stairs, she told him "He called".

"Do you want me to -?"

"No" Lydia interrupted, this time pausing midway through the stairs to look at him. Her legs trembled and she hoped her eyes didn't give away her fear and horror "I hope I can manage to do it alone".

He nodded, God bless that comprehensive man. She run up to his bedroom and of course, he now slept (or didn't slept) with his door closed. With her hand shaking, she turned the doorknob.

It took her a while for her eyes to adjust to the light, it made sense that he now slept with his light (or all his lights) on, after what he went through, no one could blame him. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, his back turned to her. At least he was still alive!

In his hand there was an orange flask. Sleeping pills, she thought. His other hand was fighting to open it, shaking as bad as her own pair. Frustrated he threw a lamp to the floor, he was crying, sobs ripping from his chest.

"Stiles!" her voice sounded like it was on the verge of despair. And it was actually.

He turned.

"Lydia" he said her name with a broken whisper. A tear rolled down his cheek while he got closer to her. "Lydia, I'm so sorry, I just… I can't… I don't know what to do" he said defeated. "I can't keep living like this, not after what I've done. I just-".

"Shh" she calmed his, rubbing her thumb over his soft cheeks where the tears were falling. "Stiles no one blames you. You didn't do anything, okay? So just relax and give me those pills-"

"I killed people, Lydia!" his hand covered his face, a broken sob escaping from his mouth. "I - I killed Allison." His voice came out with a touch of despair and regret she couldn't bear on him. "I hurt you."

She took his hands in her own and kissed his knuckles, he was clearly surprised and so was her "It wasn't you! It was your body but it wasn't your soul. Each one of us knows the difference. I know the difference, Stiles!" she almost yelled. Lydia wondered if the Sheriff was listening to their conversation. He must have. They were practically screaming.

"But Lydia, these hands, my own hands, were the cause of death of so many people. People we knew and loved, Lyd! These hands hurt you…" Stiles was on the verge of yet another panic attack. "I almost raped you."

She shut her eyes and the memory she had been trying to suppress for the past three days played once again behind her eyelids. "Stiles, you didn't do anything but treating me with the most absolute devotion and caring okay? And this…" she paused, searching for courage "All of this has been partly my fault."

He wiped a tear from his cheek, and looked at her clearly confused. "You? Your fault? How -? Lydia this has nothing to do with you okay? Please don't ever blame yourself for what I've done."

"It wasn't you, God dammit!" She was starting to lose her mind, crying herself. "It was the Nogitsune! And besides, if maybe I had been a better emotional tether you might had not gotten into this all mess. Let's admit it, Stiles, I'm a crap tether and you suffered because of that. I am to blame here as well."

He caressed her cheek. "Lydia." Stiles said, his voice deep and soft. "You didn't exactly choose to be my emotional anchor. In your situation, I wouldn't have known what to do either. You felt what I was feeling sometimes, Scott even told me you once heard me through the radio calling for help! I can't imagine what that must have been like. You are so brave, if the situation had been on reverse, I don't think I could have handled it."

Lydia looked up to his eyes, and wondered how he always knew exactly what to say, even when he was on the verge of killing himself right there in front of her. This boy. This boy who couldn't hurt a fly, this boy who had always made her feel loved. This boy who made her feel regret for not noticing him sooner. This boy who had been following her since the third freaking grade, was the boy she couldn't bear to lose. Not him too.

He looked down at her eyes as well and a sad smile appeared on his face. It was impossible not to notice the deep and caved dark circles under his eyes. "I haven't slept in a month" He whispered, looking at his bottle of pills and Lydia was taken aback.

She held out her hand, and he took it. She realized it wasn't the best type of comfort but she didn't exactly know what to do. His hand was cold with regret, wet with tears that fell from both their faces.

"I'm just so tired." His hands were shaking badly.

"I know, sweetie, I know." She told him as she clung to his hand as if it was life itself and it was in a certain way. "Come here" and led him up to his bed.

Both of them sat there slowly and eventually lied down like the bed was unknown territory and they had the need to be careful. They stayed face to face to each other, hands still holding in between them. He cried softly because he didn't know what the life ahead of him meant or even if it was worth living after what had happened.

With her other hand, Lydia cleaned his tears, very softly, in a way that expressed how sorry she really was. How sorry she was for this having had happened to him. How sorry she was for not being able to have stopped it. For not having been a good anchor, as Deaton had called it.

"It's okay." Stiles told her. He had understood. Of course he had, they had this unspoken connection between them that no one was really able to explain, and every day she thanked the world for it.

"Promise me -." Lydia was interrupted by a broken sob that escaped from her chest. "Promise me that you won't do anything stupid, okay? Just – Just call me and we will figure a way out of it, just like we did tonight. And I'll come for you. I'll always come for you, Stiles." She paused. "I can't lose you. Not you too."

He closed his eyes and held her hand tighter. He was taking in the moment and the purity and innocence of it all. They were just two kids, two damn teenagers that should have never have been through what they had been.

"Promise me God dammit Stiles! Because I can't –."

"I promise." He told her as he opened his eyes and saw her: tears dangerously threatening to fall from her beautiful green eyes once again. So he let go of her hand and opened up his arms and she closed the distance between them.

And his arms held her until the rest of the night.