The next couple of months were a blur. Scott, Allison, and Stiles eventually returned to their apartment. Mrs. Argent had an alarm system installed which Stiles was secretly gracious for. It gave him a peace of mind, even if it was just a fraction.

In no time at all they were back in school for their final year. The memories of that morning in July were becoming less painful, though Stiles still woke up muffling his screams into his pillow. He tried to hide his lack of sleep by dabbing Allison's concealer on the dark circles under his eyes and consuming more coffee than usual, but the ruse failed spectacularly. Stiles was paler than usual and the concealer looked like a sunburn when it contrasted horribly against his skin.

He made up excuses that he'd been up studying all night for his midterms, but Scott wasn't buying any of that. He once found Stiles at the library, blinking rapidly to stay awake as he seemingly scribbled into his notebook. After five seconds sleep overcame him, and he clocked out completely. Scott had managed to pull his notebook out from under him only to find erratic scrawls of the same disturbing line.

He's not here, he's not here, he's not here…

He stayed with Stiles until he jolted back into consciousness, muttering about an essay he had to write. Scott had shown the notebook and Stiles burst into tears.

"It's supposed to stop," Stiles had cried. "It's supposed to get better, isn't it? Why does he keep doing this to me?!"

Scott, ever the loyal friend, managed to calm Stiles down enough to take him home. Stiles fell into a fitful sleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. Scott stayed with him, lying next to him as his friend continued to mutter incoherently, his eyelids flitting rapidly. Scott's presence must've had an influence on him, because Stiles remained asleep for a good four hours before waking up without panicking for once.

"Hey," Scott said as he ran his hand down Stiles' hip. "Did you sleep well? How were the dreams?"

"You didn't die this time," Stiles muttered sleepily. "You're usually the first one to die."

Scott paused, his hand resting on Stiles' hip. It was a comforting weight that made Stiles want to curl into Scott and block out his nightmares.

"Why do I die first?" Scott asked softly, pressing a kiss into Stiles' hair.

"Because you're always in the way," Stiles whispered back. "You're at the doorway, bolting it shut and he hates that. He believes that you're an enemy because you're protecting someone who he thinks is his enemy."

They usually started out that way: Peter was trying to force his way in as Scott literally blocked his path. He wanted to kill Allison, only to kill Allison, but he said he would also kill Stiles if Scott didn't let him in. But Scott would always stand his ground, even as Peter plunged a knife into his abdomen. Scott always fought back too, but he was always killed in the end, either by a bullet to the head or Peter snapping his neck with his bare hands.

Allison was next to go, because Peter wanted Stiles to suffer and would force him watch. Stiles was always immobilized, screaming and pleading for Peter's mercy.

"Not her, please! Not her!" Stiles would sob out. "I'll do anything you want, just leave her alone! I'll do anything, please, please, please don't hurt her!"

Peter would always look at him, his eyes dead and cold as he slit Allison's throat and red poured out in thick rivulets and stained her skin. "It's too late, my dear Szczesny. She needed to die."

In some versions of the nightmare Peter would take him, relentless and cruel as Stiles tried to fight him off. His efforts were always in vain; Peter was able to force his legs open in the end.

Stiles hated the very thought of Peter touching him like that ever again, and his mind reminded him of that fact nearly every night. He felt tainted, as if the psycho's touch had branded his skin with sin itself. He was afraid to tell Scott and Allison what his nightmares were about, but they'd already made a good guess about what they were about.

"So what happened this time to make it different?" Scott asked, breaking Stiles out of his morbid thoughts.

Blood rushed into Stiles' face, making him blush a deep, burning red. "Uh, nothing really," he stammered, hiding his face in Scott's chest. "Everyone lived, that's all."

That part was true; all three of them had been happy and healthy in this new dream. Also, they'd been horny as fuck.

The trio had been in a white, airy room devoid of furniture except for the grand bed in the center. It had been draped in silky red sheets. Allison had been straddling Stiles' lap, her head tilted at the right angle to attack his mouth with filthy kisses. For some reason she'd been in a French maid outfit that Scott was slowly unzipping from the back as he mouthed at her neck.

"Good," said Scott. He gave Stiles another kiss before getting out of the bed.

Stiles wasn't afraid to tell Erica about the dreams, it's just that he didn't want to initiate the conversations related to them. He was trying to focus on the good things, and he believed that the unintended pregnancy counted as one. He didn't want to drag the mood down with another recollection of his family being gutted by Peter.

But bottling up all of the negativity and fear wasn't good enough for Lydia Martin. She was around more often, checking on Erica and the small healthy bump that was now the baby. Stiles didn't hate Lydia, but her constant refusal to believe that he was getting better, getting past the trauma and the rape, was starting to get on his nerves.

"This is a serious harm to your emotional health," Lydia insisted one afternoon in October. "Have you thought about seeing a therapist?" She and Stiles was over at Erica's apartment with the woman in question was sleeping soundly in her room. Erica was particularly sickly that day; she had been throwing up all morning and snoozing off the exhaustion all afternoon. Stiles had come over for moral support and to study for his midterms, which were coming up halfway through the month. Lydia jabbering concerns into his ear was distracting him, but what was he supposed to do about it? He couldn't kick her out; Erica gave her a key to the place (and no, he wasn't jealous or anything). Despite her nagging and constant disapproval of Erica's eating habits, Lydia was caring and thoughtful. Stiles just wished that he'd met her under another circumstance, that's all.

"Counselling is covered under my tuition," Stiles muttered as he highlighted the fifth paragraph in a row. His textbook was starting to look yellow and bright, but he didn't care. None of the information was filler; otherwise it wouldn't be in the fucking textbook.

Lydia frowned and took another sip of her tea. "I don't think that's enough."

"Maybe I don't care," Stiles replied through gritted teeth. He avoided her gaze; he hated seeing that look on her face like she was genuinely concerned about him.

"If you cared about Erica you would consider it," Lydia said coolly. "You're stressing her out when you keep everything inside. She thinks that you don't trust her."

"Of course I trust her!" Stiles snapped. His textbook toppled to the floor as he launched to his feet, feeling all of his anger and fear brimming to the surface. "I trust her more than anyone! I always go to her when I need help!" He pointed an accusing finger at Lydia, who was still drinking her tea, looking as calm and composed as ever. "But she doesn't need another burden like me; THAT is why I don't talk to her about it, okay?! The thing with Peter is done! I just want to get past that, but on top of the constant fear and the vivid-as-fuck nightmares I don't need you barging into my mind like you own it! Why do you care?! You're only here for the baby anyway!"

He knew how terrible those words were as soon as they exited from his mouth. Stiles snapped his mouth shut; his eyes stinging with unshed tears. Lydia's lips were drawn into a long, thin line. She set her mug of tea on the coffee table, consciously settling it on a coaster before laying her hands in her lap. She didn't cast her eyes down, but kept them locked with Stiles'.

"I knew that I was taking a risk when I was looking for a surrogate," Lydia said, unnervingly calm. "I knew that instead of me the baby would be bonding with the woman that I chose. That's why I decided to stay close; I hoped that I could make a connection from outside of the womb." She dabbed her eyes with her finger, carefully brushing away the stray tear. "I knew that that would be a risk as well, because you start getting close to her and her family. You start to care for their wellbeing, but then you also start acting that you know what's best for them."

Stiles' shoulders sagged with guilt, the fiery rage from before was sapped right out of him. Lydia slowly stood up, smoothing away the creases in her skirt.

"I'm going to go wake her up," Lydia said. "She won't be able to get to sleep tonight if I don't."

"Lydia—" Stiles began, but Lydia held up her hand, easily silencing him.

"I'm sorry I pushed you," she said. She walked past him, heading toward Erica's bedroom.

Razor wire was looped around Stiles' neck, scratching at the skin whenever he breathed and slicing into it when he twisted his head to the side to look behind him. His neck was bleeding, but he didn't care. He cradled Scott's body against his chest as he rocked back and forth on the cold concrete floor.

"Please wake up Scotty," Stiles sobbed. "Please don't leave me. Allison needs you. She loves you so much." He pressed a kiss to Scott's cold forehead. "I need you too. I love you, I love you, I love—"

"He had to die," said a voice from behind him, and Stiles' heart sank. "He was protecting the Argent girl, and I can't have a sympathizer breathing the same air as us."

"Go fuck yourself," Stiles said wearily. He could barely repress a shiver as Peter crouched down behind him and gently placed his hands on his shoulders.

"I don't need to," he whispered, kissing the top of Stiles' head. "Not when I have you."

"You don't have me," hissed Stiles. He hugged Scott more tightly.

Peter suddenly gripped Stiles' shoulders tightly, and Stiles bit back a scream as he was wrenched away from Scott and slammed into the floor inches away from his brother. Peter was on top of him in an instant, his eyes glowing red. Stiles' eyes widened in terror when he saw the fangs elongating from Peter's mouth and the sharp claws piercing Stiles' arms.

"You. Are. Mine." Peter growled. He ripped his left hand out of Stiles' flesh, and dragged the claw on his forefinger down his cheek. "I could have forgiven Scott for sleeping with the enemy," he said softly as he pressed his fingers to Stiles' lips. "The poor boy didn't know any better at the time. But he had you in a way I never did, and I couldn't allow that to continue."

"What are you talk—"

"DON'T PLAY STUPID!" Peter roared. He shoved two clawed fingers past Stiles' lips and down the slope of his tongue, choking him. Stiles coughed and sputtered, his heart hammering in his chest. He struggled to move underneath Peter, but it was always futile. He could never win, especially in his nightmares. More blood poured down from his neck and dripped onto the concrete.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Peter said more quietly as he shoved a third claw into Stiles' mouth. Stiles weakly grasped at his arm, trying to haul his fingers out. He couldn't breathe; his lungs were burning for air. "He had your heart. You thought that if he loved you that would be enough. But is it enough, to only own half of his heart?"

Stiles couldn't hear the rest of his words as he blacked out, his world fading from view.

This nightmare was the first one that didn't cause Stiles to jolt out of bed. His eyes simply opened, and he remained still in his bed. Tears were sliding down the side of his face which he quickly wiped away. He looked over at the glowing numbers on his alarm clock; it was 4:02 in the morning. He turned to his side and released a strangled sob. He covered his mouth as the wretched sound was torn from his throat.

Stiles knocked quietly on Erica's door. Lydia answered it, giving out a short sigh as she stepped aside for him to enter. He could hear running water coming from the bathroom. It had been three days since he'd freaked out on Lydia, and his guilt was running deep.

"I need to talk to you," Stiles said, earning him a skeptical look and a raised eyebrow. Lydia turned her back on him, and he followed her into the living room. A steaming mug of tea was on the coffee table. Lydia sat down; crossing her ankles as Stiles hesitantly took the couch across from her.

"I can't keep doing this anymore," he confessed. Stiles nervously grabbed handfuls of his hoodie and twisted it into his hands. He kept his eyes downcast; he was terrified of Lydia's expression. "The nightmares aren't going away and I don't think they ever will until Peter's behind bars or dead and who knows how long that'll take? You said that you wanted to influence the baby from outside of the womb and I believe that you meant that. But what if I'm doing the same, but in a bad way?" Stiles wiped his eyes in his sleeve, finally looking at Lydia. Her face remained neutral which Stiles took as a good sign. He bit his lip before finishing. "I just don't want this to define me, you know? I don't want my kid going through life thinking that they shouldn't confront their fears."

Stiles froze. He couldn't believe that he'd just said that. He shouldn't be thinking like that; Erica wasn't keeping the baby, so why would the baby care about any of this? But Stiles needed help; that was one thing he was certain of.

Lydia's face remained blank as she reached for her cell phone that was on the table and began to flick through her contacts. "Would you prefer to see a man or a woman?" she asked.

Stiles squirmed in his seat. "Uh, a woman, please. I'd be more comfortable with talking to one."

Lydia made an impatient hand gesture. Stiles dug his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. She keyed in some digits and gave it back.

"There," Lydia said. "That's Dr. Morrell's number. Just let me speak to her first; you'll need a recommendation from me if you're going to see her."

"Seriously?" Stiles said, giving her a dubious look. Lydia rolled her eyes, but it seemed fond.

"She's at the top of the pyramid; it isn't easy to get in and see her. But she's a family friend, so she'll take my word that you need her."

Stiles nodded slowly. "Thank you," he said, and he meant it. He didn't know what else to say in order to convey his gratitude towards her. Grovelling might help.

It was at that moment that Erica glided into the room, wearing one of her tank tops with a plunging neckline and a pair of soft grey sweatpants. Stiles realized with a weird flutter in his chest that they were the ones that he'd left in one of Erica's drawers nearly a year ago.

Erica beamed when she saw Stiles. He gave her a small smile in return.

Lydia stood up. "I'll be going then," she said, eyeing the other two. "I'll be at work tonight, but if you need me for anything—"

"I have you on my Favourites list," Erica said. Lydia strode over to her, hesitating for some reason. Erica gently grabbed Lydia's hand and placed it on her stomach. Lydia spread out her palm, her shoulders visibly relaxing from the contact. Her eyes looked so careful and tender. Stiles watched all of this silently, but just seeing the way Lydia melted from touching the baby gave him good reason to believe that she was going to be an awesome mother.

After Lydia had left Erica held out her hands to Stiles. He stood up, lacing their fingers together.

"How are you?" he asked quietly as he pressed their foreheads together.

"Better," she said. "Well, I'm happy that you two aren't mad at each other."

"We weren't mad, just…" Stiles blew out a breath. "I'm going to get help. I can't stand the idea of making everyone else worry about me."

"Stiles," Erica said seriously, looking up at him. "I want you to get help to help you. It doesn't mean anything if you're just going to put on a façade to ease our anxieties."

"Yeah," Stiles mumbled. "Yeah, you're right."

Erica tilted her head and pressed her lips against his. "I want you to be happy," she said after they broke apart. "I want you to be able to cross the street without looking behind you out of fear. I want you to enjoy things like you did before."

"Like sex," Stiles said, and blushed when Erica smiled shyly.

"Yes, exactly," she replied.

After that Erica slowly led him to her bedroom, holding his hand like he was a gift. She brought him over to the bed and patted the spot next to her. Stiles carefully laid down next to her, his hand hovering over the small swell of her belly.

"Can I—?" he began before swallowing nervously.

Erica smiled brightly. "You don't need to ask."

Stiles nodded, rutting her shirt up so he could touch her bare skin. He stared down in amazement; there was an actual baby growing inside of Erica.

Their baby.

Stiles mentally slapped himself. He wasn't allowed to think like that.

"I'm getting my ultrasound on Thursday," Erica said as Stiles continued to touch her stomach. "It's been about nineteen weeks, so we'll get to know whether it's a boy or a girl."

"Girl," Stiles breathed. He slid down the bed until his head was level with her stomach. He placed his ear against her, and could've sworn that he heard the soft thud-thud of a tiny heartbeat. "Yup, definitely a girl."

"And how do you know that?" Erica asked. She tangled her fingers into his hair, and Stiles closed his eyes in content.

"Because she's going to be strong like her mama," Stiles replied. "She didn't want my puny Y chromosome, so she's rejected it completely!"

Erica laughed softly. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"But I'm right, aren't I?" Stiles said. He pressed a kiss to her bare stomach. "Am I right, baby girl? Tell Mommy I'm right because this is the only time she's going to be wrong."

"Get back up here," Erica pouted. Stiles surged upwards, trailing kisses up her throat until he met her lips. He slid his hand up her shirt and ghosted his fingers across her tender breasts. Erica shuddered beneath him, looping her arms around his neck and pulling him down, laughing softly against his lips before locking them with hers.

This was easy and comfortable, all of the light touches and smoldering heat of their kisses. Just by doing this Stiles felt a little like his old self, like the person that existed before Peter came along and marred him with his cruelty. Erica's loving touches and gentle caresses dissipated the bad memories for that one moment, and Stiles felt that that was enough for him to get by.

"I don't think I'm ready to have sex yet," Stiles gasped out as soon as their lips broke apart. "Not for a while." He stroked the side of Erica's face, looking down at her with such adoration and love that it hurt.

Erica smiled up at him as she cupped his face. "I know," she said sweetly. "It's okay. I'm not expecting you to get instantly better because I want you." Her eyes widened, just realizing what she'd just admitted.

Stiles felt his heart pounding as he watched her, not daring to believe it. "You want me?" he asked slowly.

Erica gave him a small, but firm nod. "I think I always had," she replied. She gave out a huge sigh, closing her eyes. "It's just, well, I don't like being in a relationship, at least, not a traditional one. I've tried it before and it just didn't gel well with me. I like being independent; I love the sex and everything so I'm not going to be one of those people that bemoans the fact that they don't feel fulfilled because they aren't with someone. Because I do feel fulfilled, Stiles. But there's something about you that makes me want to keep you around. I just hate that it took a gun being pointed at us for me to realize it."

Erica opened her eyes again, and pulled Stiles close. Her lips brushed up against his ear as she whispered, "I love you."

Stiles kissed her senselessly then, first on the mouth and then on every scrap of bare flesh that he could find. Erica moaned happily as he kissed the part where her neck met her shoulder, dragging his tongue across her collarbone.

"I love you so much," he said back, clutching her face in his hands. Erica's tongue was slipping down his throat within seconds, and he sucked on it desperately. Erica's hands were under his shirt, dragging her nails lightly across his torso.

"Don't stop," Erica gasped. The two of them were breathing heavily. There was a gleam of sweat across Stiles' brow. He caught her bottom lip in between his teeth and nibbled on it carefully. He released it after a few seconds, looking straight into Erica's eyes.

"I want you," she said. "I love you." She began to lift the hem of her shirt up; Stiles helped to pull it over her head, revealing her naked breasts.

"I want you to eat me out," Erica said, kissing his jaw. "But only if you're ready."

She was asking him for permission to pleasure her. This was different, erratically different from Peter and the way he'd forced himself on Stiles. He wanted to erase that pain and hurt, and Erica was giving him a way to do so without wording it like that.

"I'm ready," Stiles replied. "I'm always ready for you."

Erica lifted her hips up so Stiles could tug down his sweatpants that she was wearing and her own lacy panties. Stiles realized with a grin that they were her dark purple ones that he'd once confessed were his favourite. Erica had him prove it by having him put them on for her.

Erica laid back down as Stiles kissed the inside of her left thigh, peppering her skin with his mouth as he made his way down to her pussy. Erica giggled girlishly when he nestled his face into it, breathing in the scent that was identifiably hers. She hooked her legs over his shoulders and nudged him in with the heels of her feet.

"I missed this," Erica sighed. She moaned filthily as Stiles began to suck and lick every inch of her. "I missed you."

Stiles replied by adding a finger in, going in knuckle-deep and crooking his finger just enough to make her come.

The baby was due midway through March, and Lydia was busy getting her place ready for her by painting the nursery a beautiful dusty rose color and getting Stiles to help her assemble the crib. Looking at Lydia's hard work was both awe-striking and painful to behold, knowing that his little girl was going to be raised somewhere else.

That's right, a girl. The ultrasound had pretty much confirmed it. Looks like Stiles' weird sixth sense was right on the money.

"You seemed more relaxed nowadays," Lydia said to him one morning in February. Erica's stomach was round and potent with the baby, wearing her out with the constant back pain. She was lying in bed, snoozing softly with her head on Stiles' shoulder. Lydia was perched on the end of the bed, giving him a knowing look.

"Blame Dr. Morrell," Stiles mumbled happily as he brushed back a few of Erica's stray locks. He hoped that the baby would get her blonde hair and fierce attitude. "No wonder she's so highly recommended; she's a fucking miracle worker."

Lydia rolled her eyes. "You know it's more than that," she huffed fondly. "I say this has been going on since October, between you and Erica." She smoothed out the creases in the sheets, giving Stiles a knowing smile.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he denied weakly. "We've always been on good terms." He placed a hand on Erica's stomach, watching her carefully.

"But now they're excellent, aren't they?" Lydia smirked when Stiles stuck his tongue out at her. "I knew it!"

"Just stop being a know-it-all, alright?" he muttered, closing his eyes. Erica was breathing evenly next to him, her chest rising and falling in a way that was mesmerizing.

Scott's phone vibrated loudly on the table. He frowned, picking it up and checking the new message. It was from Stiles. There were only three words.

Her water broke.

"Allison!" Scott shouted, dashing to the bathroom. The door was unlocked, and Allison squeaked when Scott opened the door to reveal her only in a towel.

"Scott!" she scolded. "What's going on—?"

"Did you get the text?" he asked excitedly, showing her his phone. Allison squinted at the screen, and then shrieked with delight.

They were dialling Stiles within seconds, putting him on speaker. "Are you going to the hospital?!" Allison asked joyously.

"Already there," Stiles said back, sounding out of breath. "She's with her doctor. Guys, I gotta go and get my hand crushed for the next bajillion hours, alright?"

"Do you want us to come down?" Scott asked, jumping on the balls of his feet. Allison beamed at him; he was like an excited puppy.

"Nah, that's alright," Stiles replied. "I'll phone you guys when she's born."

They hung up with Stiles promptly and smiled at each other. "I can't believe this is happening," Allison said. "The baby's going to be born!" She leaned into Scott's open arms, nuzzling into his chest. Scott kissed the top of her head, grinning into her hair.

"I don't want to wait," he murmured. "I want to go down there and see her."

Allison looked up at him, giving him a mischievous look. "Erica's going to be in labour for hours," she said slowly, giving him a quick kiss. "And Stiles said he'll phone us when she's born." She grabbed Scott's hands, walking backwards as she steered him in the direction of their bedroom. Once they were inside Allison pushed him onto the bed and straddled his hips.

"I'm going to be too jumpy just sitting around and waiting," smiled Allison as she began to push Scott's t-shirt up. Underneath his muscles rippled underneath her fingertips. Scott grinned back at her as she trailed her fingers across the expanse of his bronze complexion before leaning down to drag her tongue across it in a playful manner. "So, do you want to kill some time, maybe a couple thousand calories while we're at it?"

"I love you so much," Scott said, pulling her in for a deep kiss. It was the best kind of answer.

Giving birth felt like all of your ribs were cracking at once.

"Erica, you have to push," said her doctor.

"I know," Erica growled, scrunching up her eyes. On her left was Stiles, who was holding her hand and stroking her hair with his other hand. Lydia refused to be cast outside of the delivery room and sat on Erica's right as she trying to restart her breathing exercises.

"Why is our baby being so cruel to me?!" she asked Stiles breathlessly before screaming in pain. Stiles kissed her forehead, his lips so soft and warm. "Come on, baby girl; get out of Mommy's vagina!"

"Yeah," Stiles said encouragingly. "Mommy can't have mind-blowing sex when you're stuck in her cervix!"

Lydia gave him a weary look of disbelief. "Very classy."

Stiles grinned at her before he made a strangled noise as Erica's grip on his hand tightened, grinding the bones together. "Ow, ow, ow!"

"Suck it up, sweetie!" Erica shouted. "That's just one-millionth of the pain that I'm going through!"

Stiles had no right to complain; Erica was the one shoving the equivalent of a melon out of her body.

"I see her head!" the doctor announced victoriously.

"Thanking fucking God!" Erica gasped out as she threw her head back into the pillows. She heard the doctor's faraway voice telling her to push.

That's when Erica heard the little wails of a new life and promptly passed out.

"Congratulations," said the doctor to Stiles. "It's a girl."

The baby had been cleaned of blood and other unsightly fluids and was wrapped up in a soft pink blanket. Lydia watched Stiles intently as the doctor handed him the small bundle, showing him how to properly support the tiny body in his arms before leaving the room.

Erica was dozing, utterly exhausted from her ordeal. Stiles didn't know whether or not to wake her up. She should be the first one to hold their daughter, but here he was, holding this precious little life with his own hands.

"Hey baby," he whispered to the little bundle. The baby's face was red and kind of scrunched up, like she was perpetually frowning. It made Stiles laugh softly; she was the most beautiful thing that he'd ever seen in his life. The baby opened up her eyes and gave him a weird look. Stiles pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Erica shifted, groaning as she regained consciousness. She gave Stiles an exhausted look and smiled wearily at the baby.

"I wanna hold her," she said, reaching for the baby. Stiles carefully handed her to Erica while Lydia watched this exchange anxiously. The baby gurgled happily in Erica's arms, and Erica choked on a sob.

"Lydia, I know you want to hold her and everything, but can me and Stiles have some privacy first?"

Lydia nodded, touching Erica's shoulder before standing up and reluctantly leaving the room. She closed the door quietly.

"Right now I want to keep her forever and never let her go," Erica admitted as she continued to look down at her daughter. "But in the long run I know I won't be able to keep up; I won't be able to handle being a mother. Lydia loves her; you can see it on her face. She's the one willing to make the commitment, not me." Tears rolled down her face, hot and unheeding.

"Hey now," Stiles said softly. He leaned forward and gently grabbed Erica's face. He tilted it to face him before kissing Erica's tear-streaked cheek. Erica closed her eyes, soaking in Stiles' warmth. "It's okay," Stiles continued. "You're allowed to change your mind if you want to. I'll be happy with whatever decision you make."

Erica shook her head. "No, please don't say that."

"But it's true," Stiles insisted. He kissed her on the lips, so slow and soft. He pulled back and smiled. "If you want to keep her, then I'll be with you every step of the way. If you want to give her to Lydia anyway, then that's okay. Either way, she's going to have someone who loves her so much."

Erica gave him a wobbly laugh. "You're so cheesy," she said.

"Yeah," he replied. "I guess I am." He suddenly remembered Scott and Allison.

"Hey, I'll be right back," Stiles said, slowly standing up. "I just have to make a call."

"Can we name her?" Stiles asked Lydia later that evening. The two of them were standing outside of the hospital nursery, watching the rows of sleeping infants from the other side of the glass. His and Erica's daughter was snoozing in the second row from the window, and Lydia was watching her as if she was the only person to exist in the world.

Lydia seemed puzzled by the question, as if she'd never considered it. "I was assuming that you two were going to do that anyway," she replied softly. "She's your daughter, after all."

Stiles was surprised by that. The two have warmed up to each other over the last couple of months, and they might even be friends at this point. But Stiles had always assumed that Lydia had picked out a grandiose list of baby names to try out and see which one stuck. He and Erica hadtalked about it once and had even agreed on a name. He shouldn't need Lydia's indirect permission, but he felt better about knowing that he was still allowed to give the baby one permanent thing.

"Okay, that's good to hear." He inhaled once and exhaled a name. "Kyle."

Lydia frowned. "Kyle."

Stiles nodded fiercely; he wasn't going to back down from this. "Yeah, Kyle. Like Selina Kyle."

Lydia gave him an 'are you serious?' look. "Selina Kyle? As in Catwoman?"

"Awwww, you got the reference!" Stiles said, grinning at her. "I knew you weren't ignoring my insane fanboy rants!"

"They're hard to block out, unfortunately." Lydia sighed, but he noticed a hint of a smile. "Kyle Martin does have a nice ring to it."

"I'm glad you agree." Stiles' shoulders sagged in relief.

It was around seven when Allison and Scott arrived at the hospital and they were ecstatic to see Erica and Kyle. Allison practically melted from happiness when the baby gurgled cheerfully in her arms. "She's so adorable!" she said, beaming at Erica. "She has your nose," she added, looking at Stiles.

She knew that Lydia was going to be Kyle's mom, but Stiles didn't have the heart to remind her of that right now. Besides, Scott was busy kissing every inch of Kyle's face and she was squirming in such a cute way that Stiles couldn't tear his eyes away from them. It was such a perfect moment; even Lydia couldn't deny how wonderful it was for the baby to be surrounded by this much love. Stiles knew that the longer they stayed with Kyle, the harder it was going to be to tear themselves away from her. He knew that it was going to be especially difficult on Erica, who'd subconsciously bonded with Kyle for all of those months.

"Alright, it's bedtime for everyone," Lydia said once the baby began to make a fuss. She gently took Kyle out of Scott's arms and placed her in the bassinet by Erica's bed. She had decided that yes, she wanted Kyle in the same room until they both left the hospital. It was going to hurt, to have her so close right now only for her to go with Lydia in the morning.

Scott and Allison left, telling Stiles to phone them for anything or to text them both as usual. Lydia was reluctant to leave, giving Kyle a kiss on the head before leaving Erica and Stiles.

Erica sunk down into the pillows, and Stiles lay down behind her, hooking his chin over her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her. They were quiet for a few moments, watching Kyle make little noises in her bassinet before settling down into a deep sleep.

"You were awesome today," Stiles said, kissing Erica's neck. "That was the most badass thing I've ever seen in my life."

"I agree," Erica whispered back, and Stiles huffed softly at her lack of modesty. "I am pretty badass."

"I love you," he said.

Erica grabbed his hand and cradled it in hers before pressing a kiss to it. "I love you too. But Mommy needs to sleep now."

"Okay," smiled Stiles. The two were asleep within minutes, utterly drained from the day's events.

It was around four in the morning when Stiles' phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen blinding in the darkness.

Stiles untangled himself from Erica and made his way over to it, pressing the button to answer the call. He had to get a new phone back in the summer, since Peter took his old one. He had his number changed too, and it was a pain to give out his new one to all of his old contacts, but it also gave him a piece of mind.

Stiles closed the door behind him as he stepped out into the hallway. "Hello?"

"She's beautiful, Szczesny; she has your eyes. It's a shame that you're not going to raise her yourself. You could've been a wonderful father."

Stiles nearly dropped his phone, his chest constricting with panic. No, this wasn't happening, he hadn't heard that voice in eight months—

"Are you still there?" Peter asked; his voice was dangerously soft, brimming with danger and deceit.

"What do you want from me?" Stiles whispered, wiping at his eyes. He wasn't going to cry; Peter Hale didn't deserve his tears.

"I missed you, Szczesny," Peter answered. "I just wished that you didn't betray me."

"You mean expose you, right?" Stiles snapped. A question came to his mind. "How did you get this number anyway?!"

Peter sighed. "Does that really matter right now? I wanted to hear your voice, but the FBI is still on high alert and has made it extremely difficult to have a private meeting with you. I couldn't even get into my home after your friends drew them there last summer."

"If you're expecting an apology, you're out of luck," Stiles said heatedly. "It's over for you, Peter. You'll never get your revenge; you'll never lay a finger on Allison or her family."

"You shouldn't have stopped me," Peter hissed, anger breaking into his cool demeanor. "The Argents are a poison in this world; your dear Allison had clouded your mind with thick smog that you aren't seeing clearly."

"At least she never raped me." Stiles felt his voice tremble over the words, but they were the truth. "Unlike you."

Peter sighed impatiently. "You never said no."

Stiles wanted to scream. "Leave me alone. Please, just leave me alone."

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that," Peter said. "You fascinate me, Szczesny, and I can't let you go just yet. I will always find you, I can promise you that."

The phone clicked, ending the call. Stiles fell down to his knees, his remaining strength sapped out of him. Sobs broke free from his throat, and he tried muffling them with his hands. His phone clattered to the ground next to him.

He wasn't free from Peter's grasp. He was never going to be free while Peter was still alive.