Disclaimer: I don't own teen wolf.
AN: SHE'S TWENTY-ONE! I'm sorry for the wait. Really. I mean, I am so sorry I took so long. I've just had some craziness going on. It involved a water melon for breast cancer, an angry Northerner, hurt feelings, and three bottles of Maker's Mark. But I've buckled down. Locked myself away an written my butt off. And added a very nice ended. Enjoy. Oh and I've got a LOT of inspiration from the song Take Care. Sometimes the Drake version, sometimes the Florence + The Machine version. Either or.
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He hadn't heard from her in days. He'd seen her of course, in school, but she hadn't spoken to him. Occasionally she'd bump him in the hallway, looking as if she was about to say something but then she'd just turn away. Walking off. She didn't even talk to Allison. He'd given her the space she wanted. The space she deserved. It had been hard for him. He wanted so desperately to talk to her. To ask her how she felt. What she thought. He'd even hear her cut him down, just to clear the uncertainty he felt. Anything. He'd let her bash him over the head with his lacrosse stick if it made her happy. She could black his other eye.
Not like his one black eye wasn't catching enough attention. Jackson had a black line across his nose, the cracked bruise of a break. Seems the kanima didn't heal everything.
It was raining when she came over.
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...
Another night, another nightmare. It had been three days since she'd had a decent night's sleep. Three days since she'd gone to sleep happily. Comfortable.
She hadn't slept well since she'd left his house. Nightmares and terrors, waking up sobbing or sweating. Seeing shadows moving from the corner of her vision. Dreaming of werewolves. Of them chasing her, always about to get her. Of burnt down houses with people screaming inside. Howls.
It had been three days but it felt like a lifetime. Three days. She had bags, ones she could hardly cover with make up. Her sleeping pills didn't help either, they just gave her dry mouth and trapped her in the nightmares. And she always woke up with awful breath. Lydia Martin did not have morning breath. She woke up minty fresh. Always.
Her life drove by in a blur. Home to school back to home, back to school. No change, hardly any socializing. She just couldn't handle it. She'd see Scott, Derek's trio, Jackson, and think: monster. Monster who at any moment could get her. Could rip her to shreds. She couldn't take much more. The idea was just too much for her. Monsters. Out everywhere, running around. Fighting Allison's family. Sometime she broke down, sobbing. Others she lost it, laughing so hard her stomach hurt. All of it was absurd. insanity.
She'd see him at school. She'd see the others too, but mainly she saw him. There was something about him. Something new. Like she'd just discovered him. But then again, she had. She'd never really noticed him before. Even when they spoke he was just Scott's friend. Nothing more.
Now he was more. Somehow. She didn't know what. But he was something to her that she couldn't name.
Someone slipped her a rectangular piece of paper, colorful and bright. A boy she didn't recognize and didn't much care to. He smiled at her, cocky, and she batted her lashes. She picked up the paper, making a show of reading it. It was a ticket for the underground party, the rave everyone was ranting about. The boy said he hoped to see her there and Lydia gave an evasive, but flirtatious answer. She tucked the invite in her purse, it was tonight. And she didn't have any other plans. She definitely didn't plan on going with or even meeting Mr. Eyebrows, even as she looked up from him from under her lashes.
She may have been accepting his ticket to the rave, but she definitely didn't want to play with his glow stick.
Someone bumped her shoulder, knocking her off balance. She didn't fall, just stumbled in her towering heels, turnin to tear them apart she met...Isaac. Isaac Lahey. One of Derek's wolves. A werewolf. He let his eyes slip yellow and winked, a carved smirk on his face. Lydia stomped down on her wide eyed fear but knew. Even if she hid it, he could still smell it. She wanted to smack him. She wanted to scream. She wanted to take off running.
But she didn't, she pulled herself away, walking down the hall as the final bell rang. Home. She wanted to get home and go to bed.
No! She shook herself, pulling out her car keys. No. She wanted to go home and get ready for a party. She wanted to go out and be Lydia, not this poor shadow that she'd turned into.
She caught the eye of her reflection and gave it a sharp smile.
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Allison held her lip in her teeth as she drove, trying desperately not to cry even as tears pooled in her eyes. They were lying to her. All of them. Her family. The people she was supposed to trust. They were going to kill Jackson, not even give him a chance. Not even try to save him! She'd heard.
And she'd learned.
Her watery eyes hardened, her jaw tight as she gripped her steering wheel hard. She learned who was the problem here. She'd be of no help tonight. No, no. She wasn't going to let Jackson be killed by a bunch of old men who wouldn't change their ways. Her father said the daughters were the leader in this family. Tonight she was going to lead.
Her Father already blamed her for one death, she wasn't going to blame herself for another one.
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"Lydia honey, where are you going?" Mrs. Martin poked her head in the door, watching her daughter straighten her lipstick. In that little white lace dress, she hoped her girl was going somewhere warm. And dark. Where no one was that could see her in that dress. She came into the room, leaning against the dresser as her daughter sat at the vanity.
Lydia straightened the long sleeve of her dress, fastening the button on the cotton cuff. "A party." She answered vaguely, scrunching her curls. She caught her mother's worried face in he mirror, "With some friends." She clarified, smiling. According to the wire, everyone was going to be there. So technically she was going with friends.
She was going to dance. And have fun. And be fun. And smile. And laugh. And not think about monsters.
Not a single thought about monsters.
She watched her reflection in the mirror, smearing concealor under her eyes. If her Mother noticed, she didn't comment. Mrs. Martin did notice. But she also noticed that her daughter hadn't been having an easy time as of late. Her commenting on dark rings wouldn't help anything. She tucked her hair behind her ear nervously, "So you're feeling better?" She asked, trying to keep the worry out of her tone. Lydia wouldn't like it.
Lydia hm'd, nodding. "Peachy." She muttered, turning on her chair to pull on her tan heels. Her mother handed her her skirted coat as she stood and Lydia rolled her eyes as she shrugged it on. "Anything you need?" She asked, grabbing her clutch with her ticket in it. She looked over at her Mother and the woman smiled.
"What friends will be there?" She asked, pushing off the dresser. Lydia frowned, shrugging under her coat. Her mother raised a brow, "Will the Stiles boy be there?" She asked, smiling ear to ear.
Lydia watched her mother give her that secretive little grin and Lydia's face went flat. She didn't quite understand it, but she doubted she'd like it. "I'm leaving now." She said, walking out the door. Mrs. Martin watched her leave, still smiling.
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Stiles looked down at the bags as Scott dashed off. Its not like drawing a circle with Ash in the parking lot would draw any attention. But then again, this was a rave. They'd probably think he was just rolling. If they asked what he was doing, he'd shout about unicorns and gorgeous lights. And feels. So many feels.
He chuckled, cutting a hole in the first bag as he started his circuit. He Just had to believe.
You've had the power to go home all along Dorothy.
He poured and walked and poured and walked.
And thought. His Dad was fired. Fired. Because of him. Because of this mess with Jackson. They had to catch him, they had to end this. If they didn't...
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Lydia followed the herd in a haze, walking into the cloud of smoke and lights. It smelled like sweat and future regret. She watched the crowd, bumping into someone as they headed for the door.
Mr. Harris sans his glasses dragged a, seemingly too young, bottle blonde girl behind him. The girl rolled her eyes, "I'm twenty-one." She chirped, walking out. Lydia frowned. Something was...off here. She could feel it in the air. It wasn't just her normal paranoia either. Something was going on. And it was going wrong. She caught sight of Jackson heading to one side of the room and she headed to the other. She found Allison without even looking for her.
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Stiles frowned at the handfull of ash. The last handful he had. Only one.
"You just...gotta believe." He mumbled, closing his eyes.
Believe. He believed in a lot of things. He
believed in patience. He believed in faith.
And he believed that this had to work, because if it didn't he didn't know what else to do.
He opened his eyes as the last last bit fell, the edges meeting. "Yes!"
No if only he could close his eyes and believe Lydia was there.
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"Allison." Lydia breathed, watching as the brunette slumped against a wall. Her friend looked as bad as she felt, her phone clutched in her hand. Allison pressed her free hand to her face. Lydia looked around nervously, tugging the girl deeper down the hallway. "Pull it together." Lydia snapped, pinching the other girl harshly.
Allison yelped, pulling her arm away and tucking it across her chest. Reality suddenly dawned on her and Allison pressed her hand against her mouth, giving a choked sob. "Oh Lydia. Its all wrong!" She cracked, shaking her head. "They'll kill him if I tell them where he's at!" She was crying and Lydia pulled a face. The redhead reached out and pinched her again.
"Snap out if it!" She shook her head. 'Go out and party. It'll be fun. Relaxing.' She sighed, putting her hands on her hips. "You need to chill out, Allison." She smiled as a group walked past her, letting them think everything was fine. Let them think Allison was just the token drunk girl at the party, crying and loosing her lunch. No big thing. Lydia stepped closer. "I'm going to go out on a limb here. Your crazy monster hunting family is here for Jackson?"
Allison gave a pitiful "Uh-huh."
Lydia looked over her shoulder, watching as Jackson crossed the room. Someone stopped him. Isaac. Seems there was already a hunting party on the prowl. "They want you to get him somewhere so they can catch him." She muttered, a scuffle was going down on the dance. She turned back to Allison. They had to go. Something was wrong.
The girl was wide eyed, shaking her head wildly. "No. No, no, no." She repeated, full sobbing now. She dropped her phone, clutching the wall behind her. "They'll kill him Lydia. They want to kill him." She was whispering, eyes blind and full of tears. Lydia gasped, staggering back. They'd... they were going to... God.
She shook her head, now was not the time. "Have you told him he's here? Where he's at?" She asked, her voice sharp. She couldn't see anything on the floor. Allison shook her head. Thank God. Lydia looked around her, at the smoke and the bodies. The lights and dancing. She rolled her eyes. They had to get out of here. They couldn't stay. Her stomach rolled. Reaching into the front of her dress she pulled out a tiny baggie. "Emergency nerve pills." She smiled, grabbing Allison's palm and dropping a pill in her open hand. "Take this and meet me by my car." Lydia said slowly, the brunette was in no shape to drive, and the pill wouldn't help any. Lydia shoved her to the back exit with her car keys, keeping her eyes peeled for anything. "You've got about forty minutes before that kicks in." Allison looked down at her palm worried, but knocked it back anyway. Lydia wouldn't poison her.
She hoped.
Her feet brought her blindly to the exit, then Lydia's car. She pressed the unlock button and climbed in the back. She was hiding and she wasn't ashamed. She curled up and prayed for this all to end.
The red head watched the other teen leave. "Good girl." She muttered at her back, turning and walking down the hall. She had to find a bathroom. Or somewhere else to be sick at. Her head spun and her stomach rolled, but there wasn't anything for her to throw up. She hadn't eaten.
Looking into the mirror of the bathroom she sighed. "You can do this." She told her reflection. "You can go out there and smile as you walk out the door. You can climb in that car and get over all this. You have to accept this. You accept it and move on." She hardened her eyes, shaking her head. "You're Lydia Martin. Lydia Martin does not cry over monsters. She does not stay up all night screaming over dead men. She does not have circles under her eyes." She slammed her hands down hard, focusing on the sting of it.
She headed out, her back straighter from a mental pep talk. Something crashed by her.
A monster. A creature. This wasn't what Scott turned to. This wasn't a wolf. "Oh God." It watched her, staring her down as her previously gained confidence sucked out of her. She felt her knees give out as it leaned forward, hissing and barring its teeth. This thing...this was...
Someone grabbed her arms before she collapsed, clawed fingers and a strong grip as they lifted her completely off her feet. Isaac, Isaac Lahey with his furred face and his sharp teeth. He looked down at her with those strange yellow eyes and yelled, "Lydia! Get out of here! He'll kill you." He sounded worried, scared. He put her back down and shoved her down a hall as she processed what he was saying. It would kill her. Not him. Jackson.
He was protecting her, pushing her from it.
She saw the creature, the creature that was Jackson, turn. It stared at her and she couldn't move. It just watched. Isaac shouted for her to go again, but she didn't. She couldn't. This was the monster. This was what would get her. Not...Isaac stepped in front if her again, and roared. It was so loud it hurt her ears and she clapped her hands over them. The kanima reared back an finally, she ran. Trying desperately not to look over her shoulder.
She found Erica outside, Stiles before her and watching someone go. She panted, her head spinning, what was happening? Oh God. "Isaac. Jackson. The kanima, Isaac is fighting it." She stuttered out, waving her hand behind her. It was going to kill him. The kanima...it could kill him. And then she fainted, her eyes rolling up and her legs giving out. Erica barely catching her before she tumbled down the concrete stairs.
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She was in the house again, staring up at the burned out ceiling. She could hear the mournful howls and the terrified screams. Only now, there were roars. Loud and earth shaking. She was just there though, staring at the ceiling as something circled her. She didn't look up to see what it was. Peter Hale. Werewolf. Mountain Lion. It didn't matter anymore.
She was tired even in her dreams now.
"You're not real." She muttered, raising a hand to ghost trace the jagged burn marks in the ceiling. "You're not even alive." She snorted, chuckling under her breath. She was exasperated. Laughing.
Peter laughed with her but this time there was an uncertain edge to it. He sounded shakeup. "You keep me alive Lydia." He said, just like he did every night. The same lines that she already knew. "I'm alive in your head." Lydia ignored him, still staring up. Still laughing.
"No. You're dead. I just can't seem to convince you, or myself." She layed her hand down on the dirty hard wood floor only to find it turned into the slick tiles of the bathroom. Him clawing at the door, growling. She counted the ceiling tiles, reminding herself that the blood that seeped from them and dropped around her, it wasn't real. None of this was real.
If she would just get up and open that door...
But she couldn't because a part of her, it still thought this was real.
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Stiles frowned, looking back at the two girls in the backseat. Erica had taken his Jeep, Boyd having taken the Camaro earlier. Isaac had escaped the Kanima just as Lydia had burst on the scene, running after Derek as he went after Scott. Stiles had watched helplessly as Erica told him to stay behind. That something very bad had happened. She always said she was a little bit psychic.
But they'd need a car to bring Scott to the vet and he offered his, all he could do really. When he'd gone to Lydia's he found Allison loopy and out of it in her back seat. She'd been crying. He careful shifted them in the back, carefully taking the keys from Allison's curled fingers. Pulling over, he let his head fall to the steering wheel.
He was so tired. Of all this. Of what it had brought. How it never seemed to in. God, his dad had lost his job because of this. Suddenly he wished he would have hit Jackson harder. He leaned back, wondering after Scott. Derek had looked scared. And if he was scared, they were terrified. He felt his stomach sour, his throat closing up at the thought. That his friend could be dead.
"Better watch out. If Lydia catches you she'll put a downer under your tongue." Allison warned, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror. She wiped at the black tear tracks of mascara, frowning. Lydia's head was in her lap, her red curls over her face. she would have brushed them away, but her hand felt heavy. She wondered what put them all in this position. She knew what had her doped up in the backseat, her family. This mess. Werewolves. She thought of Scott, shaking her head. She wouldn't give it up. "She's got a pharmacy stuck in her cleavage." Allison kept trying to move her heavy hand, but couldn't. After a few seconds, she couldn't even care anymore. She sighed heavily, feeling the tension leaving her spine. Her mind blanking.
Stiles watched the
girl. She was out of it. Her head lulled to the side, her eyes barely open. She was gone. He didn't blame her for the want to be. Stiles cleared his throat, coughing. "Yeah?" He asked, wiping at his eyes with the heels of his hands. He sniffed, wondering if he should tell her. That Scott was in trouble. That he didnt even know what the fuck was going on anymore. That the world was crashing and he didn't know which way was up. He shook his head, ignorance was bliss and he'd let her have it. "Why were you here?" He asked, licking his lips. "The party? Lydia's backseat?"
Allison barely shrugged, letting her eyes slide shut. She was tired. So tired. "Family outing." She muttered, shaking her head. Why couldn't her family be normal? Go to chili's or something, not monster hunting. Hell, she'd take normal hunting. "I was bait...for Jackson. They're trying to kill him, Stiles." She felt her eyes water, and then nothing. She felt...Nothing. Mood stabilizers would do that to a girl. Her face fell flat and her body went slack. She let her eyes open, staring up at the roof of Lydia's car. She found invisible little patterns, idly tracing them.
Stiles frowned, tapping his fingers on the wheel. He felt his spine go ridged, staring at Allison in the rearview mirror. His heart spead up to the point where he'd thought it would burst. "Your...Your family was here?" He asked quietly, a bitter taste in his mouth."Was Gerard with them?" He knew he was. He knew. Oh God. He was going to have a panic attack. He had to calm down. He needed...to breathe.
Allison frowned, a reaction to the words not really a feeling. She wasn't feeling much really. Just tired. "Yeah. Why?" She slurred, God she was so tired. Why was she so tired? She looked down at Lydia, sleeping the ride away. All peaceful. She felt a little spark of envy.
Stiles was talking again and she focused. This was important. Right? Right. She closed her eyes, not even hearing him as he spoke. He talked a lot. She didn't really care though. He was good friend. "Derek...Derek said Scott was in trouble." He muttered, the words sounding like a severe understatement to his own ears. "Gerard...he cornered Scott at the hospital a week ago. He stabbed Scott and threatened to...he threatened to kill Melissa McCall." He felt sick, his head leaning back against the drivers seat.
Allison heard his voice stop, nodding blindly. She wasn't paying attention. To anything. Not even the little squiggles she made. Or her family. The obligations they made up. Nothing. Empty. Peace. "Go to Lydia's Dad's house. He's gone this weekend. I don't want to go home." She muttered the alarm code, falling over with her head on the window. Fast asleep.
Stiles sighed, pulling back to the road. He didn't really want to go home either. He drove slowly.
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Lydia woke up with a scream in her throat and a hand over her mouth. Her own hand. Someone was in her bed, a heavy arm across her stomach. Trapping her. Keeping her still. She couldn't move.
There was a light on. The bathroom door cracked, open. Its where the light came from. Barely illuminating the room. Her room. At her father's. The warm body in her bed, softly snoring, was Allison. Her arm across her stomach. Lydia breathed a heavy sigh, wondering just how they got there. Her heels were off, Allison's freezing feet against her leg told her the same. Her coat was still on though. She wondered how they'd gotten there.
Allison would have been in no shape to drive. She'd have been gone, numb. Tired. She tried to think of anyone else who'd know where her Father lived. Where to go. The alarm code and the knowledge that he wouldn't be home. But then again, Allison could have shared that. She lifted the arm off her stomach, wiggling out of the covers that were tucked up to her throat. Her mother? No. She would have taken the coat off. And she would have brought her home, woken her up.
Going to the dresser Lydia frowned at the thought. How would her mother had even found her? Or carried her up the stairs? She shrugged out of her coat and dress, pulling on an old teeshirt and yoga shorties. Her Dad was in Los Angeles until Wednesday. It couldn't have been him.
Stiles.
She remembered it all as she stumbled down the stairs, her head spinning. Isaac and Jackson, Erica and Stiles. Allison panicking. She shook her head, clenching the banister. The grandfather clock in the living room rang the hour. Three am. She had to laugh, sitting down on the stairs and laughing hysterically. Like a crazy person. She leaned back on the stairs, pressing her hands to her eyes as she full out laughed. So hard her ribs hurt.
"L-Lydia?" She peeked between her fingers, spying him at the bottom of the stairs. He was looking at her with worry in his eyes. She just kept laughing, so hard it echoed in the empty house. "Lydia?" So worried. When wasn't he looking at her like that though? Worried and scared. She laughed harder, laying back on the stairs. Oh God. Monsters. A monster had saved her from a monster.
She didn't even know which way was up anymore. She just kept laughing. Harder. She could feel the tears running. "Monsters." She choked out, throwing her hands up. "Teenage monsters are just running around, fighting each other and running away from little girls with crossbows!" She cackled, slumping down the stairs.
Stiles frowned, sinking down to sit on the stairs beside her. She was obviously loosing it. He didn't blame her. It did sound pretty insane. He sank back on the stairs, his head at her knees. It...was kind of funny. He chuckled, his shoulders shaking. God. Monsters. He shook his head. This was crazy. He looked up at her, watching as she wiped tears from her eyes. A sudden seriousness took over her, her face going flat.
Lydia slid down the step, falling even with him. "Thanks for bringing me home." She told him, shoulder to shoulder. Stiles looked down at the top of her head, wondering after the sudden seriousness."It seems you're there when I need you." She looked up at him, her eyes tracing his face. Just waiting for the other shoe to drop. To show something bad.
His eyes switched over to that look. The one he had that she'd never seen on anyone else when they looked at her. Soft. Jackson had never looked at her like that. She pulled a face, determined to stop the comparison. The were two opposites. Stiles was...Stiles and Jackson was a cold blooded reptile. And the Kanima. "I'll always be there when you need me." He told her, keeping eye contact. Lydia frowned at the honesty. He had been too. Always. Even when they were younger.
Leaning over she tucked her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes and sighing heavily. "Why though?" She asked quietly, her voice barely a whisper. She didn't understand. He didn't get anything from her. She wasn't even nice to him most the time. Sometimes she just walked right past him. Five weeks ago she didn't even know what the hell he was. Who he was. Now?
Well now she wasn't quite sure what he was.
Stiles licked his lips nervously, watching the top of her head. What was he supposed to say? "Because..." he trailed off. What did she want him to say? That he was pretty sure he loved her? That he was always there because he couldn't think of anywhere else he'd rather be? That he was there because she needed him? Because he hated that she cried alone in her car? He hated the way Jackson had treated her. How she treated herself. That he was there because she was in gym shorts and a tee shirt with messy hair and ruined make up, and she'd never been more beautiful. Was he supposed to tell her that he was there because he was waiting desperately for her to notice him?
He opened his mouth to tell her, anything. But he was interrupted by the sound of a hammer on the door. "Stiles! Hurry up and open the damn door." Lydia flinched, jumping forward and grabbing Stiles shoulders. He flinched at the strength. At the fear in her spine. God, she was so terrified. He wondered if she jumped at every noise.
"Isaac." He breathed, tugging at her hands. Lydia breathed in relief, pressing her forehead to his cheek. He rubbed a hand down her back, trying not to freeze at the contact. She needed comfort, not shakey hands. "Its just Isaac." He clarified, speaking into her hair. "He's got my Jeep." She smelled like vanilla. Warm. Her fingers wrapping themselves in his teeshirt.
Lydia gave out a slow breath, shakey. She turned to look at him, meeting his eyes. They were such pretty eyes. So honest. "You should get the door then." Part of her didn't want him to leave. Probably the part of her that was holding on with a tight grip, her fingers in his shirt. She wanted to ask him to stay.
Stiles frowned, there was hardly a hairs breadth between them. Her forehead pressed against his. "I should." He muttered quietly. All he'd have to do is lean forward. Just a little. Not far at all.
Lydia sucked her bottom lip in, biting in to it. She let go with a soft sound
She slid her eyes shut, waiting. "Then why aren't you?" She asked quietly, turning her brow against his. She didn't want him to go. She wanted him to stay. To...
Stiles leaned forward, just a tiny bit. "Because I want to do this more." Lydia helped him close the space, leaning up and pressing her lips to his. Under her hand she could hear his heartbeat spead up, matching Isaac's angry knocking. The kiss was chaste, soft. Isaac kept knocking. Hard.
She smiled, turning her face away only to turn it back to his. "You should really get that." She whispered against his mouth. He tilted, bumping his nose against hers. She wrinkled hers, breathing a laugh. His eyes were still closed. Savoring. She ran her hand up his shoulder, giving him a shove and a smile.
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...
"She kissed you." Isaac accused from the passenger seat, a glare on his face.
Stile grinned ear to ear, clapping one hand on the wheel. "She sure did buddy." He sighed, shaking his head. "She sure did."
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An: So I watched the original Teen Wolf movie while I wrote this. I haven't watched it since I was little. Its so funny. And their jeans? That was a bad era. "That's nice. You look good in that." There a lot hotter now, BTW. Well, I've got a watermelon to spike! Ah, southern summe