The sky was obnoxiously bright, not even having the decency to rain in mourning of everything that had happened. The sunlight was bursting through the sparse clouds, illuminating the whole street. Sniffing, Stiles flicked his hood up, refusing to be cheered by the weather. Lydia walked beside him, fashionable sunglasses perched on her dainty nose. The pair had just stepped out of Lydia's luxurious car, having been discharged from the hospital. Now they were walking towards the front door of the Stilinski household. He couldn't think of it as home anymore, not without his dad pottering around the kitchen, raiding the fridge for junk food. The thought brought the tiniest of smiles to his face, but it didn't stay for long. Leaning heavily on his crutch, he hobbled along in silence, making no effort to talk to Lydia. She picked up on his mood and was happy to walk in companionable silence. When they reached the door, Stiles dug into his pocket, searching for the keys. After a few minutes of searching, realisation hit him and he swore under his breath.

Lydia looked up at his irritated features, "What's wrong?"

"The keys," he mumbled, gesturing to the door as he spoke, "The keys were with my car keys, which got blown up with my poor Jeep. I can't believe I can't even get into my own house!" He thumped to door with his fist, which only served to hurt his hand. As he cradled it gingerly, he glanced over at Lydia who was rummaging in her purse. "What are you doing?" His voice wasn't at all sceptical, just genuinely curious.

Still rummaging through her bag, she answered, "Looking... for... this!" She pulled her hand out of the bag, triumphantly waving the key in front of her friends face. His bewildered expression spurred a snort of laughter to escape her, which in turn, set him off laughing. They stood there laughing at each other for quite some time, until eventually Stiles had regained enough of his composure to ask:

"Why do you have a key to my house?" He was still grinning, doing his best not to break down laughing again.

She wiggled her eyebrows at him, smiling as she spoke, "I had one made. Just in case I needed to burst in and save you at the last minute."

He blinked, surprise plastered on his face. Eventually he snapped out of it, pointing at the girl in front of him, "Okay, you have been spending way too much time around me."

She pouted, "Are you complaining?"

His eyebrows shot into his hairline, and he shook his head hurriedly, "No! No, no complaining here!"

She stuck her tongue out at him before unlocking the door and leading the way into the hall. The air inside the house felt heavy and thick, and it was eerily quiet. Lydia took a steadying breath, turning to see Stiles faltering in the doorway. He was staring around the place as though it were totally foreign to him, and he was clearly doing his best not to cry. "Stiles?" Lydia called out to him, and he shifted his gaze to the girl in front of him. Edging towards him, she held out her hand for him to take. Like a lost child, he grabbed it, letting her lead him towards the stairs and up to his room. He sat on the bed. Joining him Lydia put an arm around his shoulder, doing her best to comfort him. His gaze was set on the investigation board in the middle of the room.

Silently, he stood up from the mattress and hobbled over to the clear board. Reaching down he took hold of the eraser, and slowly began wiping away all their efforts at finding his dad. Malia had at least had the decency to bring the body back to Stiles, although it was currently in the hospital morgue. That was where it would stay until the funeral. A lump rose in his throat, but he gulped it down and began to rub faster. Putting the eraser down, he started tearing all of the photographs and pieces of paper down, throwing them to the floor. With each movement, he became more distressed, starting to shout as he tore down the investigation. Once more he grabbed the eraser, trying his hardest to rub out the white ink. After a couple of seconds of frantic wiping he yelled in frustration, throwing the eraser at the board. Staggering back, he ran his hands through his hair, mid-way through a mental breakdown. He had almost completely forgotten that Lydia was still there.

She just appeared beside him, picking up the discarded eraser and gently cleaning the rest of the board. When she had finished, she turned to face him, a sympathetic smile on her face. The memory of her brief encounter with the Sherriff suddenly jumped to the front of her mind, and she gasped. Stiles looked concerned, whipping his head around to inspect the room, "What, Lydia what is it?"

Regaining her composure, she smiled at him, guiding him back to the bed so they could sit down together. Taking his hand, she began to explain, "Stiles, I know it's not much, but do you remember that vision I had with your dad?"

His forehead crinkled in confusion, but he nodded anyway, waiting for her to elaborate.

"Well," she continued, "he asked me to tell you a few things, if this were to happen. I didn't tell you before because I didn't want either of you to give up. But I guess now would be the time to tell you."

Stiles suddenly found that his mouth was very dry, and when he tried to talk, the sound was scratchy and quiet. "What did he say?"

Biting he lip, Lydia tried to hold back her tears, wanting to be sure that she remembered every word. "He said to tell you that it wasn't your fault, what happened to him, or your mom. And that he loved you, and that he'd wished he told you more often. He also said to say that I was almost as annoying as you, and that you should seriously reconsider your choice in girlfriend." He laughed and she giggled, breaking into a sob before she could stop herself. Doing his best to comfort her, he wrapped his arms around her.

"Shhh shh. Lydia it's alright. Thank you for telling me."

She sobbed into his chest, her tears forming wet patches on his t-shirt. "I just wish- that we could've-"

He held her head close to his heart, chin resting on her hair, "I know, me too. Me too." Slowly he rocked back and forth, hoping to help calm her down. After a while, she pulled back, sniffing and wiping her eyes.

"I'm sorry. Here I am bawling my eyes out, when I'm supposed to be looking after you." She looked away. Raising a hand to her face, Stiles used his thumb to wipe away her tears. Turning her to face him again, he smiled at her.

"Hey it's alright. We're supposed to look after each other, Lyds. That's how it works." He smiled at her, and she smiled back, appreciative of his understanding. The pair sat in silence together for the better part of an hour, until the grumbling of Stile's stomach broke the silence. He grabbed his stomach in embarrassment. Lydia was covering her mouth, doing her best not to laugh.

"Are you hungry by any chance?" She chuckled as she spoke.

Looking up at her with a sheepish grin he replied, "Maybe just a little bit."

Standing up, she reached for his hand, "Come on then, I'll cook dinner."

Stiles stood, taking her hand and letting her lead him downstairs to the kitchen. Once there, she began bustling around, looking for something to cook. Eventually she found some bacon in the fridge. She set about making a couple of bacon rolls, and ordered Stiles to set the table. He jumped up, rushing over to the cupboard where the plates were kept. Grabbing some cups he set two places at the table, pouring water into both of the cups. By the time he had finished, Lydia was just about done cooking the bacon. Stiles sat patiently at the table while she did the finishing touches. After what felt like forever, she glided over to the table, setting his roll down in front of him. "Bacon a la Martin." She plopped down opposite him and they both tore into their roles. Neither of them had realised just how hungry they were.

"Lydia this is amazing." Stiles spoke through a large mouthful. She wrinkled her nose at him, and he raised his eyebrows, speaking innocently, "What?"

Making sure to swallow her mouthful before she spoke, Lydia shook her head at him, "It'd be a lot easier to understand you if you didn't speak with your mouth full."

Stiles laughed, choking slightly before swallowing his food. Wiping his mouth he scrutinised Lydia, "Did you just mom me?"

Surprise jolted through her, "What? No! Stiles I would never-"

He raised an eyebrow at her.

Letting out a puff of air, she gave in, "I suppose I did yes. But it's just good manners!"

Stiles chuckled, "Well I promise not to speak with my mouth full so long as you promise to keep making such delicious bacon rolls."

"Deal." She stuck out her hand over the table, and he shook it firmly as though they had just made a business proposition. As they were cleaning up, there was a knock at the door. Frowning slightly, Stiles walked into the hall to answer it. Grabbing the handle he pulled, swinging the heavy door open to reveal Scott standing on his doorstep.

"Scott?" Stiles was astonished. His friend hadn't spoken to him since Stiles revealed the fact that he had killed Donovan.

His friend stared up at him with his puppy dog eyes and shuffled his feet insecurely. "Stiles I came to apologise. You needed me and I should have been there for you. It's just, when you told me about Donovan, I couldn't believe you hadn't told me sooner. Yeah I was mad, disappointed maybe-"

"It was a mistake Scott." Stiles's tone had darkened, and he stepped outside, closing the door behind him. Rain started to fall around them, quickly getting heavier. "I didn't mean for it to happen."

Scott stared at him, "But Stiles, there must have been another way for you to escape. We shouldn't be killing the people we're trying to save!" The rain had thoroughly soaked both of them now.

Stiles stared at his friend incredulously, "Scott, don't you think if there was another way, I would have done it?! Do you actually believe I did this on purpose?"

Shaking his head, Scott growled, "I don't know Stiles. Maybe! Why didn't you call for help?!"

"He had my phone Scott! What was I supposed to do? Howl? I'm not a werewolf Scott, I don't have superpowers!"

"I can't believe your trying to justify killing a man!" Scott took a step away from him, staring at his friend in shock.

Stiles yelled in frustration, pointing at Scott accusingly as he shouted, "Not all of us can be true alphas okay? Some of us have to make mistakes. Some of us are human!"

Laughing bitterly, Scott glared at him, "I guess so. I just thought you were a better human than that. Clearly I was wrong." And with that, Scott stormed over to his bike, jumping on and speeding off.

Stiles yelled after him, "SCOTT! It was a MISTAKE! SCOTT!" With no reply, Stiles hobbled back to the front door, casting aside his crutch and sitting on the step with a loud thump. He yelled once more in frustration, burying his head in his hands. Everything was falling apart so quickly. His plan had been that at the end of senior year, no one got left behind, but now that had crumbled into disaster. Malia was gone. Scott hated him. His dad was dead. And his precious Jeep, which had made it through the whole of high school with him, was sitting rusting in some scrap site. He was still riddled with guilt for killing Donovan. It really had been a mistake, he was just trying to get away. When he pulled the pin on the scaffolding, the worst he'd thought it would do was knock the kid out. He could still remember the sickening squelch, remembered turning his head, the view of an impaled Donovan slowly coming into view. He remembered the panic, grabbing hold of the metal strut speared through the man's torso. What bothered him was the fact that when he was holding it, he didn't know if he wanted to pull it out, or push it further in. Just as he decided to pull it out, Donovan had died. Just like that. "I killed him." Stiles groaned into his hands. "I'm a horrible human being. I'm a murderer. He hit his head with his hands, as though he were attempting to knock the memory out of his mind.

A pair of gentle hands grabbed his arms, forcing him to stop hitting himself. Soft but persistent, they forced his hands into his lap. He looked up to see Lydia standing in front of him. For once, she wasn't smiling. Instead she looked crestfallen, sad eyes and slight frown gracing her pretty face. "Stiles?"

He looked at her, blinking the rain water out of his eyes.

"It wasn't your fault. He would have killed you."

Stiles shook his head, "He told me, he said 'Im not going to kill you, Stiles. Im just going to eat your legs.' He wasn't going to kill me"

Lydia blinked, a frown creasing her now dripping forehead. "Stiles, I'm pretty sure you would have died from blood loss if he had eaten your legs."

"Yeah maybe. I should never have pulled that pin." He buried his face in his palms once more.

To his surprise, Lydia's next words came out exasperated, almost irritated. "Well Stiles, I'm glad you did. You want to know why? Because if you hadn't, what would you have done? Jumped from the scaffolding? Let him eat your legs? Let him kill you? You didn't know the pole would impale him, you were just trying to survive. You shouldn't feel guilty over that. And you definitely shouldn't wish that you had just let him hurt you."

He stared at her in shock before shaking his head, "I don't know Lyds, maybe it would have been better if I had just let him kill me."

"URGHHHH! You are so infuriating! That's the problem Stiles, you don't seem to care if you get hurt. But want to know how I would feel? I'd be devastated!" She knelt down in front of him, "And if you die, I will literally go out of my freaking mind."

He blinked at her, a smile forming on his lips, "So are you gonna quote all of my lines back at me, or just the good ones?"

She pulled a mock thoughtful face, "Oh, probably just my favourites."

"I'm glad I made such an impression."

"As I recall, most of your advice was inspired by and aimed at me. So really, isn't it actually me that made the impression."

He laughed, "There are so many problems with that logic, I'm not even gonna start. But okay, fine, you can take credit for them if you want." He raised his hands in a surrendering gesture.

She grabbed his hands and pulled him up. "I don't care about the credit, so long as I have you."

Grinning broadly, he hugged her, squeezing her tightly and lifting her up into the air. "I'd carry you back inside, but, what with my foot and all-"

"Aww poor baby, do you want a piggy back ride?" She laughed as he put her down.

A wicked grin spread across his face and he had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Well, since you offered, yes, that would be lovely."

She stared at him in shock, before screwing up her face in determination. "Alright then, hop on."

Taken aback, Stiles interrogated her, "What? Seriously?"

"Get on Stilinski."

"You're gonna carry me. While wearing those heels?" He was having a hard time figuring out if she was joking or not.

"Yes, now- Get. On." Her tone left no room for argument, so he carefully climbed onto her offered back. She stumbled slightly under his weight, but quickly regained her balance. He stuck his crutch out in front of them, pointing towards the open door to the house.

"FOR NARNIA!" He yelled as she walked through the door, she rolled her eyes at his antics. He was ready to get off in the hall, but to his surprise she carried him all the way to the living room before dumping him on the couch. He flailed around on the pillows for a moment before looking at her with a goofy smile, "Well aren't you just full of surprises."