A week past after Stiles' meeting with Agent Anderson and he found himself staying at his childhood home. He couldn't stand to be at the apartment, terrified that Peter would find a way past the lobby and the deadbolt and slit their throats in their sleep. Erica had stayed over the first night and Stiles had found her presence extremely comforting.

Allison and Scott hadn't been keen on going back either. Mrs. Argent absolutely refused to let Allison stay at the McCall house, insisting that their home was properly secured from threats. Melissa was visibly angered by the implication, and argued that Victoria couldn't keep the couple apart.

"I never said that I would," Victoria had said testily. "But I would prefer to know that my daughter is safe."

The Argents had begrudgingly accepted Scott and Allison's engagement, reluctantly agreeing that their daughter could do worse. When Stiles heard what they had said, he gritted his teeth and said that they were being totally ungrateful. "Dad would've appreciated you as a son-in-law," he had told Scott over the phone.

"He already has me as one," Scott corrected. Stiles could practically see the shy grin on his face.

"Maybe he forgot," Stiles replied quickly, trying not to sound so desperate. "You should take me out more often. You know, to make it official."

Scott paused, mulling over the implication. "Hey, do you want me to come and pick you up?"

Stiles bit his lip and nodded. "Yeah, yes please." He felt queasy at the thought of driving by himself. What if he stopped at a gas station and it was empty and dark and that's when someone would grab him and hold him down and—

"Stiles, breathe with me," Scott said worriedly. Stiles sucked in some air, trying to nip away the panic attack that was coming on.

"I'm coming over. Give me ten minutes." Scott hung up and Stiles exhaled loudly, his breath shuddering out of him.

After a half hour of driving aimlessly they decided to finally return to their apartment for a few minutes. Stiles checked the locks three times in the space of a minute as soon as they entered, bolting them securing behind them. Scott went to the kitchen to check the fridge for any expired food and to grab the trash. Stiles wandered back to his room, absentmindedly picking up his dirty laundry and throwing it on his bed. He sat down at his desk, swiveling around in his chair as he blew out a breath. Everything looked normal. Well, everything should be normal; Peter had never stepped foot in here. But things have also changed as well. Stiles glanced over at the single picture frame on his desk; it was facedown. Frowning, he picked it up, and immediately dropped it back down as he bolted out of his chair.

It was a picture of Allison and Scott that Stiles had taken one night when all three of them had been drunk in their apartment. Allison's face was flushed and she was kissing Scott's neck. Both of their faces were marked out with bloody X's.

Scott sprinted into the room as soon as he heard Stiles' strangled screams. Stiles was on his knees, hiding his face in his hands. Scott crouched down next to him, reaching out to comfort him as Stiles flinched away.

"Stiles, what happened?" Scott asked, his heart thudding wildly. Stiles choked out a sob and pointed to his desk. Scott stood up and walked over to it. A picture frame laid on it, the glass cracked across the photo. Aside from that it was perfectly normal.

"Look!" Stiles cried, his body trembling. "Look! He's targeting you too!"

Scott gave the photo another glance. There was nothing different about it. "What did you see?"

"There are two big fucking X's on your faces!" Stiles screamed. "Can't you see them?! Can't you SEE THEM?! He's going to kill you too!"

Scott placed the frame down and pulled him into a hug. He rubbed his hand down one of Stiles' arms, shushing him and rocking him gently. Several long minutes past until Stiles calmed down. He clutched at Scott, his breath hitching as he tried to control it.

"I swear that I saw it," Stiles sobbed.

"I believe you," Scott reassured him as he carded his fingers through his hair. Stiles melted into his touch, resting his head on Scott's shoulder. After a while he slowly turned toward his friend, giving him a longing look before kissing him chastely on the lips. Scott's hands cupped Stiles' face, pulling him closer as he deepened it. Stiles' hands clutched at Scott's shirt, fisting the fabric that covered his back. Scott's kisses were sometimes clumsy yet warm, unlike Peter's which were pristine and cold as if he had done it a thousand times before. Which, now that Stiles thinks about it, he probably has. He must've seduced hundreds of people in order to gain their trust before slicing their throats open.

"I'm sorry," Stiles whispered between breathless kisses.

"For what?" Scott asked, frowning.

Stiles' face reddened. "For freaking out. I haven't slept much lately and my mind keeps overworking itself when I think of all of these horrible scenarios. You and Ally are in a different house and I know you'll be safe but my brain doesn't think with logic sometimes, you know?"

"Stiles," Scott said seriously, "you have nothing to apologize for. Allison and I don't blame you for anything that's happened. Anyone that says otherwise is—"

"An asshole?" Stiles offered shakily.

Scott nodded in agreement. "Yes, exactly." He pressed his lips against Stiles' and he reciprocated, kissing Scott back hungrily. It was reminiscent of the time before Allison and university, back when they were in high school and it was just the two of them against the world. After the kidnapping Scott had wanted to be Stiles' everything and vice versa. They had kissed during every private moment between them and even frotted frantically once in the darkness of Stiles' room during their prom night, the closest they had ever gotten to sex.

Right now Stiles was desperate to rid his mouth of the taste of Peter and his many prevarications. He felt hot tears roll down his face and Scott gently wiping them away with his thumbs as he slowly lowered them both onto the floor. He rolled Stiles to his side as he lay next to him, finally breaking off the kiss. Stiles curled his body against Scott's, hiding his face in his chest and staining his shirt with tears.

They stayed like that unlike their bodies ached from lying on the hard floor. Scott was the first one to stand up, tugging on Stiles' hands to pull him to his feet.

"Can I see Allison?" Stiles asked, scrubbing at his face with the heel of his hand. His eyes were burning and his felt bone-tired from crying. He looked over at the picture frame and shuddered.

He wasn't here, he wasn't here, he wasn't here, he wasn't here…

"Yeah, of course," Scott replied.

"Will her parents let me see here?" Stiles said nervously. "I mean, are they going to be able to stand seeing my face after—"

"Stiles," Scott interrupted firmly, "They're not prison guards. It's not like they can stop Allison from going outside and seeing you. She told them what happened and made it very clear to them that you didn't know what kind of person Peter when you were seeing him."

"I guess," Stiles mumbled, "But they're also the kind of people that are being gifted with the greatest son in the world and were like, 'Ugh, whatever.'"

Scott smiled meekly. "Their priorities are vastly different from regular people, that's all."

Mr. and Mrs. Argent were absent when Scott and Stiles parked in their driveway. Allison was in the living room, her eyes scanning the laptop's screen as she typed neatly into the search engine. She looked up when the boys entered the room and smiled. She patted the empty space next to her and Stiles hesitated before plopping down next to her on the couch. Scott went into the kitchen to give them some privacy.

The Argent home had white walls and furniture that all belonged in the same set. It was orderly and clean and reminded Stiles of the cold feel of Peter's penthouse. He gave out a wheezing sob as he squeezed his eyes shut. He felt a warm, soft hand on his and opened his eyes to see Allison smiling at him.

"I made out with Scott," he told her guiltily.

"I know," she said kindly. She cupped his face with her free palm, turning it towards her. "I would be suspicious if you didn't." After seeing Stiles' dubious look she added, "It's okay honey; we're family." She kissed him on the mouth and Stiles timidly kissed back, placing a wary hand on her hip. He kept his cast-bound arm in his lap.

"I'm starting to feel like we're a very pseudo-incestuous family," Stiles said after they broke apart.

"I don't see anything wrong with that," Allison said fondly. "I believe that the three of us could work something out." She gave him a devious wink, looking far too cute for her own good.

Stiles elected to store that information away for the time being. First Scott, now Allison? He felt like a threesome was inevitable at this point.

"So before we arrange, uh, that," Stiles began, "I have something to tell you too. Scott!"

Scott dashed back in, a worried look on his face. Stiles ushered for him to sit down, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

"So before everything happened with Pe—with him, Erica and I slept together. And we forgot to use a condom."

The realization was instantaneous. Allison's eyes widened to comically levels as her hands flew to her mouth. Scott was gaping, blinking erratically as the full force of Stiles' news hit him.

"No way," Scott breathed. It was difficult for him to contain the grin that was spreading across his way. "No way."

"Yes way," Stiles said. "Dad had already figured it out before I could say anything, so I wanted you two to hear it from me at least. With everything that's been going on it hasn't hit me with a full-on freak-out, but I'm going to have one if one of you don't start saying anything."

His mind had mulled over the fact that he had spawned a baby, but saying it out loud to his friends was an entirely different matter. Allison still hadn't said anything.

"Ally?" he said nervously, touching her on the shoulder. "Hey Allison, are you still there?"

Allison's eyes were brimmed with tears. "I'm going to be an aunt?"

Stiles nodded. Hers had been the most genuine reaction he had gotten so far. All at once, Stiles felt a little less afraid of the future. "Yeah, you are."

Scott pulled them both into a hug. Allison was crying now, but it was tears of joy. In that moment, a tiny baby not yet born was something to be happy about. It dispersed their fears of manhunts, or murder and deceit, and gave their some clarity.

But now Stiles was reluctant to tell them of the baby's future. Erica had told him that a woman—Lydia something-or-other—was adopting their child. He knew that it was the right thing to do for the baby, but now Stiles felt apprehension at handing him or her over to some faceless person that he didn't know.

"I have to call Erica," Stiles said, drawing apart from Scott and Allison. "The situation's kind of complicated and I need to talk to her about it."

"Yeah," said Allison, wiping away her tears. "Yeah, of course."

Stiles pulled out his cell and speed-dialled Erica. She picked up on the second ring.

"Hey lover," she said sweetly. "How are you feeling?"

"I need to see you," Stiles said. He felt his stomach knotting from nerves. "Can I come over?"

"That's a stupid question," she replied. "Of course you can. Just give me an hour to freshen up."

Erica had been dealing with morning sickness by the time Stiles came over. Scott and Allison had given him a lift, telling him to call—both of them—when he was ready to go home. Stiles hated that he needed to be chauffeured around, but he was also grateful for their patience with him. He left a voice message for his dad so he wouldn't panic when he went back to an empty house.

Stiles was buzzed in and was greeted by a redheaded woman with full lips bearing an annoyed look at Erica's door. "And you are?" she said venomously.

"Stiles Stilinski." He hoped that his name would be enough to get him through. The woman cocked her head to the side as her eyes scanned his body.

"Are you Lydia Martin?" Stiles asked her nervously. It had to be her; who else would be standing over Erica like a hawk, waiting to snatch up the baby at the first chance she got?

He had barely known her for thirty seconds and already she terrified him.

Lydia glared at him. "Who's asking?"

"I just told you my name," Stiles groaned.

"I've never seen a picture of you so for all I know you can be that maniac that targeted Erica." Lydia was barring the doorway, her hands touching either side of the doorframe. She had to be about seven inches shorter than Stiles, but her pose was intimidating.

"Let him in, Lyd!" Stiles' heart fluttered at the sound of Erica's voice. The woman in question was making her way up to the door, looking a little pale. Lydia rolled her eyes but finally moved to the side, giving Stiles a critical look as he entered the apartment.

Stiles embraced Erica, wrapping his arms around her in a gentle hug. Erica buried her face in the hollow of his neck, humming happily.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he said back.

Lydia sighed dramatically. "Yes, yes, that's very touching. Can we please move into the living room where we'll all be comfortable?"

"She's bossy," Stiles grumbled.

"I can hear you, young man," Lydia tutted from behind him. "Now move it."

It turned out that Lydia was recently rewarded the Fields Medal ("It's given out every four years, and I'm the first woman to win it," she said proudly. "Unfortunately, Jean-Pierre Serre still retains the honour of being the youngest medalist since 1954") and is a software engineer for a big-time company. She explained with great detail that she makes a great sum of money and will able to hire a nanny to take care of the baby when she's at work. Lydia was single but had wanted to try a surrogate because her career tended to lend to stress and that would be negative for her and the potential fetus's health. That's why she had been so snippy with Erica's actions lately. "It's because I care for both Mommy and Baby," Lydia explained.

Throughout the one-sided discussion Stiles was getting the feeling that her story was for his benefit. Did something in his expression display doubt about her? He could always ask directly.

"Aren't you overdoing it?" Stiles asked, earning him a stony glare from the woman. "I mean, she isn't even showing yet."

"First-time mothers take from twelve to sixteen weeks to show," Lydia replied coldly. "Even so, I don't want to take any risks."

After that Lydia went to the bathroom to freshen herself up. Erica took Stiles' hands in hers. "Play nice with her, okay babe?"

"She DOES realize that you aren't an incubator, right?" Stiles said. "Does she think that if the machinery is kept well-oiled that a perfect baby will fall right into her lap when she gets it?"

Erica raised an eyebrow. "Did you just imply that I'm a machine?"

Stiles ducked his head. "Uh, no?"

"Well, you're right," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "I'm a mean, green, fighting machine! The worst I've encountered so far was that scare with You-Know-Who."

"You fought Voldemort recently?" Stiles joked weakly. His hands began to tremble.

"Hey now," Erica said, touching his face. "Look at me, okay?"

Stiles did look. He looked at the woman that saved his life in more ways than one. He looked at the woman that didn't think he was tainted despite what he'd been through. He loved her so much that he was petrified that she would move on from him.

But it has been five years and she was still kicking around. Stiles sometimes wondered why.

"She's here because of what happened, isn't she?" he asked Erica. "She's afraid that something will happen to you and the baby."

"And you," Erica chimed in. At Stiles' sceptic look she added, "When you were in the hospital she asked about you. She may not know you as well as I do but she knows how important you are to me."

Lydia strode back in at that moment, her lipstick reapplied and her eye shadow touched up. "Actually, I remember your face from somewhere."

It took Stiles a moment to realize that she was talking to him. "What? From where?"

Lydia sat down across from them, crossing her legs neatly. "One of the clubs from over a month ago. You were the only one that didn't try to hit on me."

Stiles suddenly remembered: the strawberry blonde curls and green eyes at the overpriced dance club once. Guys had flocked to her like horny flies to honey.

"Now that I met you, it doesn't look like your scene," Stiles said.

Lydia rolled her eyes, but she seemed more at ease now. "Now that we've properly met, I need to get a hold of your family's medical records."

Stiles paled visibly. "Uh, why?"

"I have to know if there are any reoccurring problems regarding your genetics," Lydia explained, smoothing down her skirt. "I just want to be prepared in case anything comes up once the baby is born. Is there any history with diabetes, vaccinations, or cancer, for example?"

Stiles went stiff in his seat. What if Peter had given him something? He hadn't used a condom when he—

He then remembered that their kid had been conceived before Peter, before the madness accompanying him. He shuddered out a breath.

"Just—Just my mom," he said shakily. "She had breast cancer and so did my maternal grandmother. That's all I know off the top of my head. I can go get an actual form for you if that makes you happy."

Lydia bit her lip before shaking her head. "We can worry about that later." She stood up, and walked over to the couch that Stiles and Erica were sharing. "Just phone me if you need me for anything," she said and promptly left after that.

Stiles sucked in a breath before exhaling unevenly. Erica leaned against him, lacing her fingers with his.

"When he," Stiles began, hesitating before charging on. "When he had me trapped, he called me by my name."

A worried look eclipsed Erica's features. She understood what he was saying; Stiles had told her long ago about Claudia and what that name meant to him.

"Only she is allowed to call me that," Stiles said tearfully. "And now I can't even think about her without being reminded of what he did."

The two were quiet about that. Stiles closed his eyes, hiding his face in Erica's hair. The sun was setting outside and Erica was yawning. Stiles was feeling tired himself; it had been an emotionally draining day.

"Want to stay over?" Erica murmured into his ear. "We don't have to do anything but sleep."

Sleep sounded fantastic. "Sure," he replied, nodding sleepily.