Disclaimer: I don't own teen wolf.

An: Hey there friendship! Its been a few minutes, huh? Sorry. I got...stuck on this weird Isaac Lydia story that's kinda odd and dark. I might post it, maybe. Idk. Bur here's the new chapter, extra long in apology for the wait, enjoy.

.

...

He didn't really know what made her do it, but he definitely wasn't going to make her stop.

Ever since the night on the stairs and that kiss he couldn't get out of his head, Lydia was his shadow. Or he was hers, what with her take charge attitude. She'd show up randomly. Walk with him in the halls. Share lunch. Even Allison noticed the change, not that she was complaining. Her mother was sick, therefore not at school. Meaning she could share a lunch with them, mooning over Scott and playing footsie under the table.

Stiles looked up at his best friend, a flat look on his face. "I appreciate the thought, but I feel like you're just moving too fast for me Scott." He said, raising a brow as his best friend ran his Nike up his calf. The foot dropped and Scott turned red, facing down into his lunch. He laughed.

Lydia turned to them for the briefest of a second, going back to talking to Allison about something girl related. Just because she was there, didn't mean she was...there. She'd sit in his car making phone calls, do her homework on the bleachers at his Lacrosse practice. He'd left the shower three times to find her painting her nails in his bed. Three times. It was only Wednesday. And she acted as if she'd been doing it for years. Like it was a normal part of her routine, no one else commented on it either. Some strange acceptance. Though Scott kept giving him weird looks. Confused.

She hadn't kissed him again though. But there was always some form of contact. Her shoulder against his on the couch. Elbow on his arm as he drove. The toe of her shoe touching his under the table. Something. No matter what. Just there.

He frowned, wondering why she was there. Was it comfort? He assumed it was. He was a security blanket. Not a very sexy thing to be. Safety. She turned to him, with a smile on her lips and winked. But he could accept the position, as long as she stayed happy.

.

...

For the hundreth time, Lydia wondered what the hell she was doing. Technically she was eating lunch and planning a party, her birthday party, with Allison. But the rest of her? Daydreaming. About a chaste kiss. With the toe of her shoe touching his! Like a child who didn't want to wander too far. Always on his tail.

She'd spent enough time in the Stilinski house hold to warrant a name on the mail box. If the census came asking, it was a three person household. It was pitiful. She didn't even stay the night. She'd eat dinner and watch him do the dishes. Last night, she'd even helped put them in the wash! (The Sheriff had declared her fit to work, stating that he was tired of doing them.) She didn't even do her own dishes. But she'd been right happy to help. Drying.

But she'd noticed something else.

The Sheriff...wasn't the Sheriff anymore. He stayed home. He'd been fired. Stiles told her it was because of the police-van-Jackson incident. He'd stared ahead with his hands on his knees. Quiet and guilty. He didn't need to say how much he blamed himself, she could feel it. He wore the guilt like a second skin. A motivator to do things that he might have not wanted to. She'd grabbed his hand. A simple gesture that had made her feel awkward but him better. It was...worth it to see him slightly smile. She felt like an idiot. A weird flutter in her stomach at his smile.

Maybe she was getting ill. Or going insane.

She didn't like to leave his side, she kept him like a shield. Against the looks she got in the hall. Against the whispers she heard from the other students. Against the thoughts of Peter.

But he was still there when she left Stiles. School meant curfew, curfew meant 10 o'clock goodbyes. And goodbye meant Lydia took a sleeping pill in the driveway and raced home before the coating dissolved and it kicked it. One layer to help you get to sleep, the other to help you stay asleep. Or wreck into a ditch. Whichever. But she knew that the less time she spent alone, the less of him she heard.

But it was Friday. The last day of before two weeks of spring break. Her birthday was Wednesday. The full moon. And she had a plan.

It wasn't a plan that needed to be shared though. She let Allison believe that she had a bash to end all bashes on the agenda. It was truly something else, she smiled a secretive curve of her lips. Lydia's parties were always the best parties.

She caught Stiles looking at her, that strange look in his eyes. She smiled, winking. She knew he had plans with Scott tonight, a meeting with Derek Hale about the Kanima.

But also about something else. Something equally as dangerous.

She turned to Allison with a gaurded look. Monday had been the Rave, the part disaster part confusion part kissing strange boys and slipping her friend a Mickey rave. The rave where, as Stiles told her, Victoria Argent had attacked Scott. She'd hit him with her car and used a vaporizer of wolfsbane to drug him. It had almost killed him. But Derek Hale had sensed it, as the Alpha. He'd rushed and in the attack...bit Victoria.

Lydia doubted the woman would be immune as she had.

She gave Allison a smile, mentally counting how many sedatives she had in her medicine cabinet. She knew what the Argent matriarch would do. She looked back to Stiles, a frown on her face.

The boy caught it, hitting her foot with his own. "What's up?" He asked, his brow furrowing. He tried to figure out what would have her frowning, but knew there were quite a few answers. Lydia shook her head, her eyes flicking to Allison. He knew what had her frowning. He felt the same. Allison was going to lose her Mother. Soon. He didn't know Victoria, and he didn't particularly care for her or her plans, but he cared about Allison. She was his friend. She was the girl Scott loved.

She was going to be another kid without a Mom. He knew how hard that was.

Allison cleared her throat, shaking her head at the pair as they had some silent conversation. They thought she and Scott were bad. She'd seen them together. They...fit. Stiles offbeat attitude meshing well with Lydia's...brashness. Opposites did attract it seemed. "Are you still coming by after school?" She asked, sitting her fork down and picking up her drink. Lydia turned to her wide eyed.

The redhead kept her face blank. Could she go to Allison's with what she now knew? Could she look Victoria Argent in the face, knowing? She smirked, of course she could. She was Lydia Martin. It was her reaction to Allison that made her queasy. She still slapped a smile on her perfectly painted mouth and nodded. "Yeah. But we've got to run to the bakery and the caterers. Oh and Macy's too." She ticked off the places on her fingers, wondering how long that would take.

If they took long enough Stiles would be back from Derek's and she could see him. God, what was wrong with her? She needed to stop.

Said boy picked up, grinning and giving her a reason to run. "Don't forget the Butchers and the Candlestick maker's!" He laughed, looking nervous when no one laughed with him. Lydia gave him her big eyed blank faced look and Scott slowly shook his head. "Get it? The butcher, the baker, and the cand..." The boy trailed off, leaning back in his seat. No one had laughed yet. Allison just stared, looking embarassed for him. "No? Okay then." He crossed his arms.

"Yeah." Allison dragged out slowly, pulling her eyes away from the train wreck. Stiles shoved a fry in his mouth, better than the foot that was already there. "So, a caterer huh?"

.

...

Lydia had her suspicions. She'd always had her suspicions. Stiles believed that it was Mr. Harris. She had her doubts.

There was a list of names. A swim team from six years ago. A fear of water. And no motive. Nothing to connect it together. It was a mess. A big disaster of confetti clues and paw prints. So she sat in her handy dandy thinking chair and thought, thought, thought the perfect plan. A smirk crossed her lips as she walked down the hall. Alone.

She caught Jackson by his sleeve in the hall after lacrosse practice, she'd already spotted Scott and Stiles darting off. Quick to get to their pow-wow with Derek. A smile graced her lips. It was Just after practice, she'd told Allison that she'd forgotten something in her locker. The boy before her would have absolutely no contact with Scott, Stiles, or Allison before the party. She gave him her best pouty look, from under her lashes. The one he loved. The one that got her way everytime.

"Are you coming to my party?" She asked quietly, letting a hint of nervousness enter her voice. Her heart was speeding up and he knew he'd hear it. It was quick because of the game though, not fear. She wasn't afraid. Not of him. She'd already won. She always won. "I'd really like for you to be

there." She felt him tug against her grasp and let go, stepping back with a hurt look on her face.

He spun some 'You don't want me there' mess, but she wasn't listening. He had a faint bruise on his nose and chin. Stiles bruising had been worse. His black eye. That he'd gotten from this boy because he was defending her. Her stomach turned sour and she tried to keep her expression in good spirits. Jackson had finished his little speech.

"I'll see you there." She told him, a frown slipping out. She turned away, a smirk on her face. Lydia Martin always got her way. A call came in from the florist when she reached her car.

Always.

.

...

Derek frowned at the duo, not quite understanding their dismissal of his plan. "You said Lydia knew everything now." He spoke slowly, as if to children. They were children though. Sometime stupider. "Why can't we use her to lure Jackson out." It was a good plan. Solid. But the boys shook their heads, Stiles shooting it down hard.

"Lydia isn't...she can't...I think..." Stiles was at a lose for words. On one hand, he didn't want to put Lydia in danger. On the other hand, he wasn't sure she was up for a cloak and dagger tasks like trapping. Especially with the threat of Jackson changing. He could hurt her. Badly. Stiles didn't want that. He didn't want to see her lying lifeless and bloodied ever again. "Lydia can't do that. She can't be involved with the Kanima." He spoke clearly, his head held high. He'd stick to this. He didn't want her involved. Derek gave him a questioning look, not understanding.

"But why?" The Alpha asked, clearly confused. "Lydia can help, can't she?"

"Nope." A voice laughed, "Cause Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep and doesn't know where to find them." Isaac sing-songed from his spot a few yards away on top of a box, a smirk on his face. He met Stiles's glare from across the room, an amused little tilt to his mouth. Scott's hand wrapped tight on his best friend's elbow. It kept him from leaping past Derek to attack the boy.

He had to stop picking fights with monsters. His black eye hadn't even healed yet.

Derek leaned forward, frowning as Stiles leaned back quickly. A strange look on his face. He probably thought he was going to hit him. He'd changed his scent. A different shampoo? "Erica said the two of you were together." His brow furrowed. The scent of Lydia did cling to the boy. On his skin, his clothes. Everywhere. But it wasn't as Eric had thought. She should have known better. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. Stiles squirmed under the look. "You do smell like her, but you don't smell like her arousal." He shook his head. Stiles wasn't sleeping with Lydia. At least not sexually.

The boy gave him a flat look. "Gee. Thanks Derek." He rolled his eyes, crossing his own arms. "Of course I'm not sleeping with her." She was...

"Stuck in the friend zone with cuckoo Harley, Batman?" Erica smiled, her arms stretched out above her head and holding onto the top of a train car. It pushed her breast together, just like she wanted it to. "I promise I won't do the same." She winked, an action he preferred when done with Lydia's green eyes than her smouldering grey ones. Erica may have been something, but it wasn't something he wanted.

Derek glared over at her, tilting his head. "Don't you have someone else to bother?" It was a clear dismissal and five days away from the full moon, Erica took it. But not without a few mumbled words only the Weres caught.

"Great girl, that one." Stiles snarked, not pulling away fast enough to avoid the slap Derek landed to the back of his head.

Scott interrupted the squabble, elbowing his friend. "Look, that's not important." He growled, shaking his head. "What's important is the catching the Kanima..." he paused, looking down at his knees. He rubbed his chest at the pang of memory, of how close he'd come. "And Allison's Mom."

Derek went somber the whole room falling into a sudden shadow. The air still. Stiles felt his stomach roll, looking off to the side. The silence was suffocating. Isaac was the one to break it. "She'll be killed." He answered quietly, "Or she'll kill herself."

Everyone looked over to him, varying expressions. Shock. Illness. Blank. The boy just shrugged, "Everyones been thinking it." He admitted, shaking his head. His eyes met Scott's, blank. The true neutral of someone who honestly did not care. It didn't involve him. It wouldn't involve any of them after the full moon.

Victoria Argent was a hunter. She'd been bit by a werewolf. She was going to die.

.

...

"I thought it would be easier."

Stiles jumped at the voice coming out of the dark, holding his backpack up as a shield. His room was pitch black, the voice coming from the window sill. It was blank, eerily quiet. Downcast.

He'd had enough downcast with Derek and Isaac.

He breathed a sigh at the familiar form, dropping his bag on the floor softly. His Dad had been in the kitchen, going over papers and year books. He'd obviously missed however the intruder had snuck in. "You scared me." He told Lydia, falling back to his bed. He was tired. He wanted to pull the covers over his head and sleep forever.

Lydia didn't move fron the window, perched precariously on the edge. She had her shoulder against the glass, staring out to the woods. The whole town was covered in those goddamned woods, she sighed against the glass. It blocked her view, but only for a second. "I thought I could go to Allison's house. Face Mrs Argent and act normal. But I couldn't." She remembered the woman's fluttering, clinging to Allison as the girl basically shrugged her off. Mr. Argent looking at his wife, this profound sadness on his face when he thought no one was looking. And Gerard. A silent figure in the room. Watching her. Something about him..."I couldn't stay there." She whispered, she'd left without even telling the other girl. Just...left.

Stiles looked up at the ceiling, kicking his shoes off."Why didn't you go home?" He asked, already knowing the answer. Lydia didn't want to be alone. She couldn't stand it. He didn't blame her. Not over the want for company or the inability to look Victoria Argent in the eye knowing she would be dead in a weeks time. But he didn't know why she kept coming to him.

Lydia didn't either. It was strange. She had no reason to want to be around this strange boy. She had no answer for him. Except. "I wanted to be here." She replied quietly, watching her breath fog the window. The world was quiet for a long moment, like the world hung still. Lydia leaned her forehead against the cold glass of the window.

"Why?"

It was one word. On single word said in such a blank voice. Lydia frowned at the sound. Stiles waited, holding his breath. Her answer...

"I like it here." Lydia's brow furrowed, biting her lip. Why? It was a good question she had to admit. Simple and to the point. Why? Why was she there? Why did she run to him? Why did she want to be here? "I feel...I don't know what I feel. I feel confused." She was being honest. When was she ever truly honest? With him. She was honest with him. Not because it got her anything, but just because she was so tired of pretending. Her shoulders sagged, she was so tired. "Will you let me stay?" She asked, knowing he would.

"Always." Stiles spoke to the ceiling, a frown seeming permanently etched into his face. He was tired. So tired. The bed shifted and Lydia's face entered his line of view. Her make up was smeared, not much just around her eyes. Barely. He only noticed because she was so close, her hair a curtain around his face. It blocked the world out. He reached out, pulling on a curl. Her eyes softened, an almost there smile.

"Will you stay too?" She asked, watching as the curl slipped from his fingers. His face had already blank, but shock was registering on his face. His eyes got wide.

Stiles sat up quick, narrowly avoiding her head, "W-what?" He frowned, shaking his head. Lydia was sitting on his bed, looking at him like he was stupid. He waved his hands. "I don't think that-"

"Shut up, Stiles." Lydia rolled her big eyes, her hand hard on his chest as she pushed him back onto the bed. The springs bounced under him and he looked up at her in shock. She laid her head on his chest, frowning at his ridgid posture as thunder sounded outside the window. She wrapped her leg around his, attempting to get comfortable in the twin sized bed. "Its not like I asked you to put your hand up my skirt."

.

...

Lydia was gone by the time he woke up, groggy and uncomfortable. He'd slept in his jeans. No good ever came from sleeping in jeans. A shower later he walked down to the kitchen, greeting his Father.

Sheriff Stilinski looked over the rim of his glasses, coffee mug in hand. "I watched Lydia sneak out this morning." His son didnt even still, pulling breakfast foods out. His Father would eat unhealthy through out the day if he didn't start out well. Healthy veggie sausage and an egg whit

es Omelet. Low fat cheese. His dad cringed at the selection. But it was better than carrot sticks and celery, without ranch.

Stiles turned the stove on, shrugging his shoulders in a circle. There was Crick in one, from where Lydia's head had laid. He frowned at the thought, stilling in his motions. "Did you let her in last night?" He asked, watching his father in the blury reflection of the unused stainless tea pot on the back burner.

The older man raised his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah." He admitted, remembering the girl as she stood on the doorstep. She'd tried to be so strong about it. Her chin high. "She's got those big eyes like on the UNICEF commercials. She'd been crying." She'd been carrying her coat, her strapless dress showing the new pink scars on her shoulder. They were gruesome. He remembered when he'd first saw them. When his son had rushed intova hospital, terrified. He looked over the rim of his glasses."Seems like she does that a lot."

Stiles frowned down at the stove, watching the lowfat oil heat. A sharp pang hit his chest. "Yeah. Yeah she does." He muttered.

.

...

She could do this she smirked, mentally going over her guest list. More importantly a key four people on it. This night, this party, it was her plan. One that she knew would work because she devised it. A Lydia Martin plan never failed. She leaned against the doorway as the caterers sat up. One of them looked back at the twisted smile on their employer's face and shivered. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

And this birthday girl looked royally screwed over. She caught him looking and laughed. "Make sure to set up a punch bowl outside." She ordered, crossing her arms. "I want to make sure everyone has a glass."

.

...

She watched the party goers party, jumping in the pool and out. Fully clothed. Drunken. High on the Hallucinogens in the purple flowers floating pretty in the punch. She'd scolded Scott earlier, over what she couldn't quite remember. Maybe she shouldn't be drinking the punch with them.

She set the glass down behind her, leaning against the side of the house. She watched Jackson out the corner of her eyes. He was gone. Out of it, spinning around in a circle. Everyone was. Stage one complete. Dope up all the children in Beacon Hills. (And a few drag queens that Stiles had invited. She had no comment on that one.) Now all she had to do was wait. She knew the threat that had been made.

Stay out of my way or I'll kill you.

They hadn't. She knew the Kanima's master would use this moment. Use the drunken state as a shield.

Someone might die tonight if her plan didn't work.

She looked up to the full moon as it hung heavy in the sky. Someone was going to die tonight. Or maybe already had. She'd watched Allison race out of the house ten minutes ago, running as fast as her long legs would take her. Lydia slunk further into the shadows, a sick feeling in her stomach.

Part of her, and she didn't really know when she'd developed that part, wanted to run. To run away from the party. The people. To find Allison. She was...worried. It wasn't a feeling she liked.

Stiles slid up beside her, his eyes dropped from the punch. A slow smile on his face. Lydia turned her head to look at him, that strange buzzing in her stomach again. She couldn't explain it. She didn't think long on it. "Hey." He slurred, leaning heavily against the wall. His body lined hers, his arm pressed against her arm. He radiated heat, but still a chill went down her spin.

Lydia let her chin rest on his shoulder, his scent filling her nose. He smelled so good. Some combination scents that she couldn't name. He shoulder was wet. Soaked actually. "Hey." She breathed back, quiet. He could hear her over the music, she was close enough that he could feel her breath hot on his ear. It was his turn to shiver, leaning back further on the wall. "I don't remember you telling me happy birthday." She purred, not even noticing that she was doing it.

Stiles turned to look at her, not even noticing how close their faces were. Not close enough. Lydia thought of how close he had been four nights ago,how nervous he'd been. How well she'd slept. No nightmares. "Yeah?" He muttered, distinctly remembering that he did. When she'd opened the door and he'd fought that present through the door. "Huh. I'll have to make up for that." The drink gave him a confidence that he didn't normally have and he turned his body suddenly, caging her in. Lydia didn't feel suffocate. She didn't feel closed in. She felt...she felt protected. She felt things that she was too gone to think about. Things part of her knew better to dwell on. She felt the butterflies come back with a vengeance as she peered up at him with wide eyes. His own eyes were hooded, gazing down at her a look that made her breath catch in her throat. With his nose millimeters from hers all she'd have to do was stand a little taller and she could...

A voice stopped her upward travel and thoughts as she listened carefully. "Stop! STOP! I CAN'T SWIM!" Lydia smirked at the shout and splash, looking over Stiles shoulders at its owner. Curiouser and Curiouser.

She looked back at Stiles, who obviously hadn't heard a thing. He was focused on her. Lydia smiled. "We'll finish this later." She promised with a wink, slipping under his arm. She walked into the darkness at the side of the house. Stiles frowned, shaking his head.

So close, but so far.

He went to find Scott, watching as a soaked Matt stalked out of the pool. Sirens followed.

"Police! Scatter!"

Someone grabbed his arm and he spun. Scott faced him, a shocked look in his eyes as he pulled him away. They raced down the driveway, narrowly avoiding the Police checks. Stiles grabbed his friend's arm, tugging him back. "We've got to find Lydia." He said over the sirens. Scott wasn't listening though, he was staring off at something.

Someone.

Matt. The boy was seething, water soaking him. The Kanima was low, crouched around his ankles. He hissed. A car passed and they were gone.

A car peeled in front of them, driving backwards. The driver's window rolled down. Lydia's face smirked from the opening, "Get in losers, we're going hunting." She laughed, harsh and sharp. The Police sirens went loud behind them and the boys tumbled into the backseat. The door slammed as the car peeled away.

Stiles shuffled forward, sliding into the front seat. There was a look of shock to his face, buckling up. "You planned this?" Scott asked from the back seat, his voice full of disbelief. Matt...Matt was the Kanima. Lydia had found it all out in one night. Derek had been right.

Lydia shifted to third, "Yup." She answered simply, taking a turn like a roller coaster. Scott slid across the back seat, struggling to buckle up. Stiles shot him a worried look over his shoulder. Lydia had lost it. They didn't even know where she was taking them.

He turned his eyes back to her, watching as she drove like she knew where they were going. Where were they going? "You drugged about a hundred Beacon Hill children...to find the Kanima's master." He told her, like explaining to a child. Slowly. "You could go to jail..." Maybe Derek had been right? Or horribly wrong? Probably wrong.

Lydia turned away from the road, looking at him. "Why?" She shrugged, rolling her eyes. She didn't see the problem. Her plan had worked. Matt was the Kanima's master. Mystery solved. Simple. They'd been after this for weeks. It had only taken her a day. She turned back to the road, "I had no idea that Monkshood caused that level of crazy. I just thought they were pretty. Matched My dress." She pulled a hand off the wheel, fluttering it against the skirt of her dress. Stiles resisted the urge to grab the wheel.

Scott frowned from the backseat. Maybe Derek had been right. "How'd you know the police were coming?" He asked when she stopped at a light. He recognized the route. They were headed to the business section of town. She'd been waiting.

Lydia shrugged her shoulders and he noticed they were bare, he couldn't see the scar from the back though. "I called them." She answered, pulling off. "After Matt got dunked. He's the kanima." She just accepted it. Moved on. Matt was the one they were looking for. End of story. Get rid of Matt...

Scott frowned in the shadows of the backseat. It didn't make sense. "But why?" He asked, shaking his head. "He's killing from the 2006 swim team. It doesn't make sense." It didn't. Truly. It was strange. Confusing.

"Motives are for court cases, honey." She answered sharply. She didn't need one. It was pointless.

Stiles frowned at her speedometer, "You drive fast. Where are we going?" He asked, amazed he hadn't asked already.

"To the hospital." She answered simply, her hands tight on the steering wheel. She was trying not to look at Scott. She was trying to focus on the road. She was trying...to focus.

Stiles stuttered from the passenger seat, "W-why?"

He asked nervously, watching her carefully.

Lydia took the last turn to the hospital, the visitors parking lot. She turned the key, leaning back heavily in the seat. "Victoria Argent stabbed herself." She said, her words heavy and clear. The last words she said to the mirror, to Scott. "She's dead."

.

...

An: bum bum buuuuum. Okay. So you guys, I am so sorry it took so long! But hey! The next chapter is half written (cause I kept breaking this one to write it...) I know I took liberties With the party, but still. And Peter Hale IS dead in this. Mainly cause I can't really find a way to shove him in here. See ya.