Chapter 5

The banshee doesn't go home. Instead, she drives straight to the hospital and asks one of the receptionists to let Melissa know that Lydia will be picking her up. Until the nurse's shift is over, Lydia waits in her car alone with her thoughts, fingers tapping on the wheel anxiously the whole time as she tries to keep her tears at bay. When Melissa finds her, the redhead is almost in a trance.

Lydia offers to pay for lunch and Melissa reluctantly accepts it, not before hugging Lydia tight and telling her how much she's been missed in the past weeks. They settle for a small diner on their way to Derek's and while they're waiting for their food, sitting on a cornered booth and mostly away from prying eyes and ears, Lydia explains to Melissa all about Stuart. As expected, Melissa is a little skeptical at first so Lydia tells her what happened at the loft. They agree that Melissa will have to see with her own eyes to believe it.

They are already eating when Melissa pops the inevitable question. "So, have you talked to Stiles already?"

Lydia lowers her gaze, her throat feeling a little dry. Her voice trembles. "Just barely. I- I uh…"

Melissa gives her one of her famous Mama McCall smiles. "It's okay, sweetheart. You can talk to me."

Lydia purses her lips in a thin line, taking a deep breath to try and calm her nerves but she can feel the wetness swiftly forming in her eyes. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say to him," she whispers. "What am I supposed to say to him?" she asks, pleads in a shaky tone. Tears start to roll down her cheeks as she breaks down, sobbing in a silent crying.

"Oh honey." Melissa gets up and rushes to Lydia's side of the booth and the girl moves over, making space for the older woman. Melissa hugs her close, her fingers running through strawberry blonde locks soothingly as she murmurs comforting words. "It's okay. You'll be okay, you both will."

"I had to do it, I had to…"

"Shh I know…" Melissa only found out about what had happened between Stiles and Lydia when the girl was already on the plane to France. After that, she gave such a lecture to Stiles that the boy avoided her gaze for a whole week. "He knows too, Lydia. He knows you had to do it."

"He was so mad at me," Lydia pouts, wiping away some of her tears. "But I had to do it, I had to save him."

"He knows that. And he doesn't blame you, honey…"

"But he won't forgive me. He'll never forgive me but I had to save him." She pauses for a second to try and even out her breathing. "I'd do it all over again," she states resolute as she remembers the events.

The pack had been faced with another supernatural threat; another that went after Stiles for his intellect, this time one from the realm of the dead that couldn't be seen or heard, only felt. The boy had been on the verge of losing his mind all over again. It had attacked him aggressively twice and in between those times and after the second one, Stiles would feel incredibly tired, mostly melancholic and almost unable to talk. The first time he was attacked Stiles was unconscious for over 24 hours and the second time he fell ill during a whole weekend, in the beginning struck with dizziness, then hypothermia, incoherence, nausea and violent migraines. And that was before he started bleeding nonstop from his eyes in a slow, agonizing rhythm as whatever that sort of spirit was consumed him, his mind and his soul. And just as violently as it began, it stopped; Lydia wouldn't have it a third time. Only she knows how many hours of sleep she lost to find some sort of a plan, to come up with something that could save him. When she did find something, she went to Deaton to try and get some confirmation, some sign that it could actually work. Her sleep deprived self wasn't sure that it was even an option but alas it was, her only in fact. Stiles didn't even have a month left.

It was a ritual, and one that required a connection to the dead and Lydia, being a Banshee, didn't think twice about it. Deaton advised Lydia not to go through with it, that she'd be walking to her certain death but she didn't listen; she only pretended she did to not be stopped. She'd do anything she could to save Stiles and Deaton said it would. She didn't tell anyone about it. It took her two weeks of seeing Stiles languish under her gaze as she found all the ingredients while waiting for the precise moment to perform the ritual, on the next full moon. In the meantime and aside from school, she stayed away from the pack so that no one could pick up on her mood, on her fear for what was about to happen. She excused herself with being senior year and saying she needed to study, that she'd do better alone.

On the day of the full moon, Lydia wrote a letter to her mom that she kept under her pillow – the woman would find it eventually and it certainly lacked explanations for what she'd find but that's all Lydia could give her – along with another for Stiles. The whole day she kept her phone turned off to make sure nothing would stop her. After driving to the woods, she left her car near the main road where it would be easy to spot by the police as soon as someone would report her disappearance. She even left a map on the driver's seat marking the exact place she'd be at, the place where they would find her body along with all of her belongings – wallet, cell phone, ID cards – and a note detailing what she was wearing, birthmarks and even the small tattoo on her right wrist - one she had done the week before, an arrow wrapped in red string for Allison and Stiles, for both her best friends who had almost died to the Nogitsune (a tattoo that she kept hidden by a watch or bracelets so no one would know she had it) – so that she could be immediately identified not to be another Jane Doe.

She wandered around those woods barefoot for almost three hours, changing paths often so that in case someone from the pack would come looking for her, no one would catch her scent, not quickly enough, before she did what had to be done. To others it would probably seem like a suicide, that the girl who had voices in her head just couldn't bear them anymore. And Lydia had been hollow for a while, so it wasn't such a farfetched idea. Allison and Stiles almost dying - and she's sure they would have; Lydia had never felt so restless to let out a scream before -, her parents' divorce and her mother's constant absence, Jackson leaving, Aiden dying, finding out her grandmother had been killed. And not to forget her stupid banshee powers that Lydia hasn't grasped at all, even now, along with how distant she's been from Stiles ever since the Nogitsune and Malia. If it would look like a suicide because of depression, Lydia couldn't care less. Still, that was not the reason she chose to do it. It didn't even cross her mind because her focus was Stiles. She'd offer herself to the other side for him, for his life, a true sacrifice. Stiles would live and that's what mattered.

Until it turned night, Lydia sat on the dirty ground of the clearing she'd perform the ritual at, leaves and dirt and small rocks messing with her white plain dress and hurting the flesh of her feet, legs and thighs; she didn't mind. She ignored the pain, all the hurt and suffering, even the whispers she had heard all day in her head, voices that warned her of the imminent danger she was about to put herself in. She focused on her breathing, she meditated. It was all that she could do not to let fear engulf her, to gather the strength she knew she'd need. And then came the moon and Lydia didn't hesitate. She lit the candles, prepared the ceremony, the only thought crossing her mind being 'Let him live'. It wasn't long until she felt a soft wind passing by her and the voices in her head started whispering for her to leave. Things changed abruptly when she started feeling dizzy, weak and the voices yelled at Lydia to stay, calling her name, calling her to them in agonizing shouts that had made Lydia shiver, and she felt compelled to move. When she cut her wrist in a thin, deep line, just on top of the tattoo in an attempt to make the bond stronger, she clearly remembers that the voices hushed and cried, for her and with her, and then came silence for what felt like hours.

And then Stiles. She heard his scream so vividly she remembers thinking she was hallucinating right before she passed out, that maybe that was how it was supposed to work. It also occurred to her that maybe the ritual failed but by then she couldn't do anything else about it. After she came to her senses hours later, Scott had told her how Deaton had warned the pack of his suspicions. Once most of the pack noticed Lydia's disappearance and Deaton was told about it, he alerted Scott that Lydia would probably go through with the ritual she had gone to him with. They started researching right away, Stiles being the one to find out the location she'd probably be in. It was a strike of luck – maybe fate – that he was right only to find her lifeless corpse as it collapsed to the ground. They took her body to the animal clinic; no rush to take her to the hospital when she was already technically dead. Deaton had instructed Stiles not to leave her side, to focus on their bond - their connection - until he got her back because even if it was an odd chance for saving her, they had to try. And he did; Stiles stayed and held her hand for most of the night, wordless as he focused on his task. It wasn't until Scott startled everyone saying he thought he heard her heart beat and Deaton checked for her pulse that Stiles let go of her and left.

He hadn't said a word or saw anyone for the rest of the day and as for Lydia, no one would ask her about it nor did she say something. Deaton had already explained to the pack the how and why and no one could really blame Lydia for what she did; most of them would probably consider doing the same thing if the responsibility fell on them.

"I really would, do it all again in a heartbeat. I don't regret it," she continues, breaking out of her reverie. "I had to. I couldn't let him die."

"I know you would. You were so brave, Lydia. It takes quite the courage to do something like that," Melissa smiles fondly at the girl. "And just so you know, if I had been in your position with the same information you had, I would have done the exact same thing."

Lydia knew Melissa would understand. That's why she decided to talk to her. "He was so mad at me that night… I'd never heard him yell like that at someone." He had, to the point where they were both exhausted, and she took it all in without a comeback because she understood the pain she'd caused him, because she hoped that if the roles were reversed, Stiles would have done the same thing for her. Not that lately he had seemed to care about her as much as he did before, but her feelings for him were more than enough for the both of them by then.

"He had his reasons to be mad, Lydia, honey. You would too if it were him in your place, you know that."

"You should have seen him today, he looked so... So sad and broken, I... I forgave him, for all the things he said to me that night. It's the least I could do."

Melissa cleans the remaining tears from Lydia's face and caresses her cheeks softly. "You'll need time, both of you. You'll figure it out, you'll see. You always do." Lydia looks down at her wrist and traces the pale line that now figures on Allison's arrow, lost in thought for a second. Melissa looks at it too. "You really love him, don't you?"

It takes Lydia by surprise that the question doesn't bother her at all. The answer is nothing but an admission of the plain truth. She even breaks into a small smile as she straightens her back, feeling a little more self-assured. "What gave it away?"

Melissa kisses her temple. "You two are a goddamn tragedy. I just wish it was a less literal one." Lydia rolls her eyes and Melissa chuckles, giving her an encouraging smile. "Everyone has been rooting for you for a long time."

"Well, I told him I loved him and he laughed at my face, so there's that." He did. He felt so bitter, so raged that night he wasn't even thinking straight, but come to think of it he had already told her before that he'd lose his mind if she were to die so it was to be expected. "I think it's safe to say we're a long way from working things out. But I saved him, it's all I care about."

Scott had told Melissa about it, how Stiles lost it that night and told Lydia all that he never had. "You'll have to live with the consequences of what you've done the same way he will, but Stiles... That boy, Lydia, loves you wholeheartedly, the same way I'm sure you love him. But he's stubborn and a goddamn pain in the ass and fragile, he's so fragile, Lydia."

"Like his dad." Lydia digresses a little, knowing they're both getting their point across. Melissa and the Sheriff are constantly a topic when it comes to romance and they never seem to do something about it.

Melissa catches it quickly. "Yes, like his dad. Now let me give you some advice. I can't pretend I know what you two are going through, but… Give it time. You just got back so adjust, get acquainted with this crazy life of ours again. And you'll see, in no time you two will look at each other, maybe talk even if casually, and it won't hurt as much, I promise you." She smiles wide and Lydia returns it thankfully. "And then next thing you know you're dating and getting married and having kids. Life goes by in an instant, sweetheart, savor the moments."

Lydia chuckles and laughs at the thought of a life with Stiles, one that she has had oh so many times. She blushes. "Can I direct a similar advice to you and the Sheriff or are we still pretending there's nothing there?" At Melissa's silence, red covers Lydia's cheeks. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that."

Melissa feels disarmed but the girl is getting under her skin easily, warmly. "I think you have the same authority to ask me about John as I have to ask you about Stiles." She grins. "We're not really pretending anymore, not on my part. We just… We all have our demons, you know?"

Lydia places her hand on top of Melissa's and squeezes it lightly, smiling fondly. "Knowing that Stiles is pretty much a copy of his father, I'd advise you to be patient with him but on the other hand, and I swear I'm not trying to be insensitive, it's not like you are getting any younger. You and the Sheriff have known each other for years and you work together so well. And I think part of why he's holding back is still wife and Stiles, like somehow he's betraying her memory or at least how he thinks Stiles will see it. Show him differently. You have been nothing but a second mother to that boy."

At the banshee's words, Melissa gets teary. "Thank you. You didn't have to say that."

Lydia smiles genuinely. "No. Thank you. Thank you for this."

They finish their meal in between light conversations and comfortable smiles before heading to the loft.