A/N: Sorry for the long wait, too much real life distractions, unfortunately mostly in terms of headaches.

sapphire79, glad you like the story, yeah I do try include certain moments ;) No "kissing" here but I hope you enjoy this chapter nonetheless.
SecretsofNelle, I do need to get a move on editing, sorry I let you and everyone waiting so long for the cemetery chapter ...
Midnight Chamber, I have a soft spot for Chris as well, maybe that's why his chapter became so long I had to split it up. Yeah, stupid tenses one of my weaknesses :P

Chapter 26 Unforeseen Complications

Since it was midday the gates of the old South Lane cemetery were open. As Lydia and Peter stepped onto the main pathway, they saw a woman and a young man gawking at the crime scene; Lydia believed that the woman was a reporter for the local newspaper. They were a bit far way, but there was something about her that even in the distance seemed familiar.

Lydia made it a point to switch sides, so that Peter was blocking her almost completely from the potential reporter's sight. Since she really didn't want to be interviewed again by this particular harpy, Lydia didn't even protested, when Peter wrapped his arm around her. If they acted like they were here for a visit to an old family tomb or graveside, they probably wouldn't get noticed.

Reminded of that old animation movie, her mother loved so much "The last unicorn", Lydia had to think of one particular conversation, where the magician was warned by the unicorn not to run away from the harpy, as it would attract its attention. It was sort of the same here, a casual walk away would work best.

If Lydia was right with her suspicion this was was the same reporter who had tried to get an interview with her at the hospital - in the ICU - after Peter had attacked her after the formal. Eventually getting to her when the Kanima killings started, asking for Lydia's insight on the matter and also digging for dirt on Allison. Apart from having no idea what was going on at the time, she had brushed that woman off rather well, using the same line she had fed Peter, when he had asked why she was seeing Mrs Morrell. As a result, she had been pretty much mentioned - they couldn't print her name - as the lunatic girl who ran around naked in the woods and had serious issues. Everyone knew who was meant.

The way lead them away from the crime scene, Lydia showing Peter the general direction to the moss covered crypt with the creepy praying angels statues and the fake doors. The place looked and felt horrible enough from the distance, the feeling would only get worse if she got close enough to see the statues change to the grim reaper ones. It was still fresh around this time of the year but the chill she felt come from this place was closer to that of a particular cold winter night.

"That's it," Lydia pointed toward the building, "it's close enough for my taste."

Peter hardly seemed to hear what she had said. While he didn't let go, he also didn't move forward. He stared at the building and the area surrounding it. Lydia pulled her arm back, so she could wrap both of them around her, feeling goosebumps appear on her arms.

"Interesting," Peter said, finally letting go.

Lydia turned her head to look at him and instantly noticed how the hair on his neck was standing up. There was just the hint of tension which Peter obviously tried to hide. He was good at it. Always pretending not to care had trained him but she realised there was something about this place that upset even him. That was almost more terrifying than anything else.

"What is it?" she wanted to know.

"Right now, you see some white marble angel statues standing in front of it, do you?" he asked back.

Nodding and fearing once more that he might test what she would see if she stepped closer. "Yes, I see them, when I get closer, they turn into .."

Lydia was then interrupted by Peter who finished the sentence. "... grim reapers who seem to swing their scythes at you?" As if that wasn't scary enough, he went on to describe them in details she had never shared with anyone. How their mouth stood open, how the skeletal parts were a dark grey tone but there were spatters on them that seemed to be real dried blood.

"Oh my god," she realised what was going on. "You don't see the angels, you see what I see when …" Stopping herself, she took a deep breath, there was no need to panic, Lydia told herself. "What does it mean?" she asked, what seemed to be the most important question.

"I'm sure if we had a trained witch to ask, she had something to say about the phenomenon," Peter replied and took a step forward.

Instinctively, Lydia reached forward and grabbed his wrist. "What are you doing?"

"Taking a closer look, that's what I came here, to do," he said with a smile on his face. "I really appreciate the concern but obviously I can take of myself."

Feeling silly, she let go and took a step back. "I don't like this place," Lydia admitted not willing to hide just how much it crept her our. "I know you don't, either."

They heard a car start and Lydia assumed it was the reporter and whomever she had brought with her. Peter put a hand on her shoulder. "This won't take long."

With apprehension she watched as Peter went up to the stairs leading up to the mausoleum, stopping to look at the grim reapers. Lydia was glad she saw them just as angels - they were creepy enough in that phase. She wondered if the druids had any idea what was up with this strange place. It wasn't like she or anyone else had asked Deaton about it as far as she knew, mostly because getting useful information out of him was like trying to squeeze blood out of a stone.

Lydia shivered as she saw Peter leaning closer to examine one of the statues. Her instincts were telling her this place should be left alone. There had to be a reason, why the darker version of this place had no flora growing near or on it. Neither was she hearing any animal noises and she began wondered, the angel version looked so harmless to observers eyes: was maybe that the real illusion?

There was no way of confirming the suspicion. Whenever her powers were involved, there was never any reliable data available to form a reasonable opinion on. All she had was a gut feeling and those instincts told her this haunted, lifeless display of death was actually there. If witches, werewolves and banshees were real, certainly a magical illusion to make a supernatural sight seem harmless to normal people wasn't that far out.

Her certainty about it was reason why she wished Peter wasn't actually touching the grim reaper. She wasn't sure what exactly he was running his fingers over, as all she saw was him stroking over the angels stony curls. Out of the blue he turned his head almost as if he had heard something and focused his attention to the mausoleum.

"Just hurry," Lydia demanded, rubbing her arms as she was feeling colder by the minute.

Peter approached the fake doors, looking at them without giving any sign he was listening to her. Lydia gasped as he reached out to touch them but stopped an inch or two in front of the door relief. Instead he leaned closer and listened to whatever he might have drawn his attention. Lydia heard nothing apart from her own breath. Much to her distress, it was forming a visible mist in front of her mouth. As she looked she saw the same thing happening to Peter.

Peter wasn't done yet, his fingers went over the carving of the door panels, tracing the fake opening, while leaning against one half of the door. Lydia wondered what he was looking for, it almost seemed as if he was trying to find a hidden mechanism or something. She took a step closer, before deciding to try shouting again.

"Will you stop doing that?"

There was still no answer from Peter, he simply slided down a bit further and explored more of the lower area of the door. It was as if he wasn't even noticing that she was there. Lydia felt very vulnerable and alone, as she kept watching Peter, the oddness of his behaviour became more and more obvious.

"Peter!" she shouted more loudly.

He kept focusing on the door, but his movements became slower: they were almost trance like. It seemed like he really wanted to get this door open, but not because he wanted to, Lydia was certain something or someone was compelling him to do this. She wondered if she had looked and moved like this when Peter had made her do these weird things, like walking barefoot through the forest to the old Hale house.

If the circumstances weren't so spooky Lydia might have taken it as poetic justice but this was more than a little bit worrisome. This place was evil and she had no idea what was going to happen, did something wanted to get out or was this about something else? Who or whatever was interred in that crypt should better not be let out. Lydia knew she needed to do something

"Damn you!" She yelled - still no answer - and walked towards the mausoleum that changed in front of her very eyes.

Lydia wasn't sure what she could do to shake Peter out of this, as she herself had always been alone in those situation, but shaking seemed like a good bet. Unless this place got her screaming again, but she couldn't force it. The first time something had made her approach the crypt, and she had felt the incredible cold, seen the blood had scared her into screaming, but there was no guarantee it would happen again.

Her determination was challenged with each step. The temperature was dropping lower the closer she came, Lydia couldn't remember the last time she had felt this cold. When came close enough to pass between the two statues, she heard a weird noise. Shivering, he hair standing up, Lydia turned and saw the head of the statue she was staring at moving towards her and it's empty eyes filled with blood.

There was a slow but noticeable change in the position of the scythe. As Lydia forced herself to step forward, she saw a threatening movement. One heartbeat later she felt the scream burst out of her and ring through her entire body which was numb from the cold. Lydia saw Peter moving his hands away from the door to cover his ears but then she blanked out.

When Lydia came to her senses again she was back in the Jaguar, the heat cranked up to the maximum. Despite that she was still feeling a bit cold and twice as exhausted. Recalling what happened she was also very angry. "I've told you not to go near that thing!"

"Yes, you did," Peter admitted sounding far less composed than she had ever experienced, with the exception of the encounter with Deucalion two nights ago. Peter was shivering noticeably and when she looked closer she saw dried blood on his collar and shoulder. Its source quickly discovered, by the noticeable smears of red blood still clinging to his ear.

She hadn't been that close to him but her scream must have been more intense, the only time she had blacked out before had been during the ritual. This being the far more unpleasant event. Peter was clearly not up for much talking and Lydia was sure it would not help, but she had to say it anyway.

"It doesn't feel good, does it?"

"No." Peter agreed with dangerously low tone.

With subdued aggression he put the car into a higher gear. Lydia noticed the odd way he was sticking out his fingers instead of closing them around the shift lever. Taking a closer look, she saw that the fingers were covered with blisters. Whatever was up with that Mausoleum, it had generated so much cold, that Peter has suffered frostbite and was still affected by the unnatural cold.

Lydia felt at least her skin warm up again, even though her feet in the boots were still feeling a bit damp. She remembered a skiing trip where she had to walk two hours through deep snow and her feet had been similarly cold. But this was California and spring, even more so, it had affected Peter more and it had only happened with him. None of that had happened when Stiles and Scott had examined the doors or the statues.

It was simple curiosity that made her reach out and lay her hand on Peter's arm. Even through the clothes she could feel how cold he was. He stared at the hand in a disapproving way that she immediately drew it back.

"What happened?" Lydia asked, hoping she wouldn't have drag every single word out of him.

"Apart from me nearly freezing to death?" He shrugged, but it was an angry, tense move: Peter wasn't successfully faking his usual nonchalant attitude. "At least this was something I haven't tried yet."

She hadn't expected the incident being this serious, it was no wonder he was being curt with her. Up until now he had every reason to feel safe with his regained alpha powers and just now, one misstep had nearly cost him his life again. It scared her to think what might grow out of this experience. There was something hurt about him and Lydia grew more aware of.

"Maybe we should order in and go shopping tomorrow?" she suggested. "I don't know about you but I could use a hot shower."

Peter said nothing, she could see that part of her statement bothered him and wondered if this was the point where he let go of all pretense of being nice.

"Probably for the best," he agreed to her surprise. She watched him take a turn to the main road leading downtown from the beltway and hoped she was right and they would be back at the apartment soon.

After a few minutes, Peter spoke to her on his own. "When the witches declared Beacon Hills off limits, they've made it seem as if I was the reason but it always seemed not right. Even they couldn't be that petty - now I think I've found the real reason."

She hadn't thought about it more, but when he brought up the witches, she realised what had been different about Peter and Scott or Stiles at that mausoleum. Peter was part witch, while not trained, it was obvious he had some witch powers in his blood.

"You think that they knew about the mausoleum?" Lydia asked and then shook her head. "But if they knew that witches were affected why wouldn't they warn you?"

The look he gave her told everything, Peter clearly believed that the witches didn't care. "I remember them speaking about someone freezing to death, which was very strange since it happened to be be late April then." He scoffed, taking a deep breath. "Didn't think much of it at the time. It has to be the witch blood, since you didn't notice any effect on the other werewolves?"

"No, I didn't!" Lydia confirmed. "It's so reckless not to warn you."

"Maybe they told Talia to keep me away - but you know her approach to keeping us away from things," Peter stated with a bitter tone.

Lydia sighed, she still couldn't believe that Talia had stolen memories from him and Derek. That was really not Lydia's idea of problem solving. With mind rape being such a natural thing to do in his family, it was no surprise that Peter wasn't thinking much about it. It was like in those headhunter tribes, were bringing home a head was just good manners. A family living deep in the woods having problems with their social skills was probably not that surprising, either.

"Can't you ask the witches about what's the deal with the mausoleum?" she asked curiously. "You're in contact with at least one of them."

"I could ask her, but I think she's been fed the same story as everyone else, that Beacon Hills isn't big enough for a pack and a coven."

There was a lot of resentment in that statement and Lydia wondered if the added dose of bitterness came from wondering if his witch contact, which had to be the sister of his old friend, had also kept him in the dark.

"The real question is though, whether this is connected to any of the murders, isn't it?" Lydia tried to steer the conversation away from those thoughts. "The mausoleum is old, it could've been there for years. With something bad inside."

"Maybe, that would be good, as staying away from it should solve that problem."

His tone was still worrying Lydia but at the same time, it was also confirmation that Peter's nonchalant attitude was an act. Maybe it wasn't always but Lydia was pretty much sure it was more often than not. It made sense to her: Peter not wanting anyone to see what he was really feeling or thinking. She was just hoping to get better at seeing through him.

"I'm sure we find out more, once Stiles has gone ahead with his research," Lydia kept going. "I wonder which statues actually were put there and which set is the false one."

Another long pause and eventually Peter asked her, a lot calmer. "What do you feel?"

He had phrased the question in a similar situation like that before, inquiring not what she thought but felt. Peter knew that it was something she had a hard time with and it helped her put more trust in her feelings, at least in these supernatural situation, where it was all she could count on.

Thinking back, the angel version wasn't meant to scare, seeing only the weeping statues she almost feel nothing the first time. The grim reapers were scary, they seemed to do their best to scare her off. It seemed purposefully. Peter was right, she didn't find answers in thinking about it, but her gut feeling was very certain. "I'm sure the angels are false, they feel wrong - somewhat empty."

Lydia took a deep breath, she just didn't had the proper language to describe what she was feeling. It was all so new and alien to her. There was more that bothered her.

"What I don't get is, so if the angels are false, why is it that the reapers try to scare me away?" She wondered out loud. "Something drew you closer and we both can see the reapers, so it can't be just that, can it?"

"That's true," Peter admitted.

Apart from confirming that she had been right about something luring him closer to the building, he didn't reveal anything. For once it seemed Peter was just as clueless as the rest of them. Lydia didn't liked it much, but she tried to find out what he discovered. "Did you find out anything about the fake door? Or don't you remember anything about it?"

They had almost reached the apartment and it seemed as if Peter wasn't ready to say anything on the subject, when after a long pause he eventually answered. "Oddly enough, I do remember. It's fine craftsmanship - it's very detailed almost like wood turned to stone," then he looked at her as if he had a revelation and Lydia knew what it was.

"Maybe that's what it is!" She said and Peter gave a confirming nod. Lydia smiled, because she was theorizing about completely unscientific magic stuff. "What if it's carved into the stone but someone used magic to seal it off? Is it possible to turn wooden doors into stone?" Lydia smiled still not believing she was theorizing about magically closed mausoleum doors.

"It would be possible for a witch," Peter agreed, seeming to thaw off in more than the physical sense. "It would make sense if they wanted not only a physical barrier but also a magic one."

"So - a witch could probably reverse that and re-open the door," she continued her line of thought.

"Therefore the witches who sealed it off would make sure no other witch can safely go near the door," he finished for her. "It's a possibility."

"It's of course just based on a feeling," Lydia added, but she had some trust in her theory. Even though she had no clue how to test it, at least not without another witch. A witch might not survive this as well as a werewolf who could regenerate. Even Peter almost died, if she hadn't interfered.

About that time, they reached Peter's apartment building and Jaguar was parked in the underground garage. Once turned off the engine, he looked at her and said with a rather serious tone: "You need to learn to trust those feelings."

Lydia gasped as she saw that his fingers weren't the only body part that had gotten frostbite: there were blisters all over the left side of Peter's face and ear. He turned away from her and leaned back into his seat. "Maybe I should, too."

It was probably as close to an admittance from him that he had been wrong as she would ever get. Lydia wasn't really feeling like gloating, that was only funny when nobody was getting seriously hurt.

"How long will it take to heal?" she wondered out loud.

"It shouldn't take long after all," he began, but groaned as he opened the door. Sighing angrily he pushed open the door, and reached for the key but stopped. Looking at it, he turned to her. "Would you mind getting the key?"

Clearly, until he had healed his fine motoric was a bit off. Lydia pulled out the key and left the car. She wondered just how bad the burns on his other hand was. Seeing the way he moved it was obvious he was in serious pain. Once again, she probably should enjoy it, as he deserved it but felt exactly the opposite way.

"The trunk," he pointed out and Lydia opened it

With another groan, he took out her suitcase and Lydia saw that the other hand wasn't as badly burned but it still had a few blisters that made moving the index finger problematic. He obviously had no intention to admit how bad it was. Peter took advantage of the fact that the suitcase was rollable holding onto it with the good fingers on this left hand.

While she figured she might be able to do all the rolling herself, Lydia wasn't going to argue with him. If he wanted to play it tough, she wasn't going to stop him. Locking up the care, she had fallen a bit back and walking up behind him, she saw that the blisters were not just on his face. The neck was also showing signs of frostbite and she wondered if some had gotten through the clothing as well.

Once in the elevator, Lydia couldn't help herself and placed the palm of her hand on his right arm. She had expected it to be cool but she hadn't expected it to still be that cold. It was as if the heating in the car had done only a bare minimum. It gave an entirely new meaning to the expression chilled to the bone.

"Well, I guess my hot shower can wait," she said not removing her hand.

It was a compromise. Lydia wanted to press herself against him and share her body heat. Yet, in the back of her mind there was an unwillingness for a number of reasons.

"I doubt a shower is going to help much," Peter said and turned to her, moving his arm away from her hand in the process. With a smirk he added. "Unless you'd jump in as well."

This time it was obvious he was joking. It wasn't just his tone, which she was being able to read much better, it was his body language. While he certainly didn't mind sharing his body heat with her, it had to be on his terms. Even now this basic act of kindness from her was rejected, blocked off with a joke, she actually thought about taking serious, just to see how he'd react to that. Not sure if he wouldn't hold her to it, she rather not risk it for getting a rise out of him.

As Peter left the elevator, rolling the suitcase behind him, she had to think about the other times when she had made contact of her own volition. It had irritated him a bit before, almost as if he had no idea what to make of it. Maybe that played into it. It could also be that he just didn't want to seem weak or that intimacy was something he only knew has a tool of manipulation. The thought made Lydia sad, but she also knew she wasn't going to change him. That didn't mean she couldn't try to understand him better.

Rushing ahead, she unlocked the apartment door and closed it behind Peter and her suitcase. Seeing him park the suitcase against the nearest wall to look at his left hand, she made a decision: she was going to help him, whether he'd liked it or not.

Her friends thought Peter deserved all the punishment in the world, but it occurred to Lydia that Peter had gotten already plenty of that. Maybe he had more coming, but Lydia had to face that she felt worse seeing him in pain and not vindicated. She might as well accept that she got nothing from revenge, but much more if she treated him as an ally.

"Well, I'm going to let in a hot bath, but I suggest you take a shower first," Lydia said as she strode towards the the bathroom. Looking behind her as she opened the door, she saw his confused look and added. "To get used to heat slowly."

She was sure it wasn't the suggestion to shower that made him wonder but rather why she was concerned or - from his point of view - acting as if she was. Lydia enjoyed the thought of that, after all she should be mad as hell. Peter once more managed to get her to do something she hadn't wanted to do: getting closer to the mausoleum.

At first she had felt angry, when she thought about this lasted experience, she didn't felt upset about it at all. If anything, she felt bolder. The place seemed less scary. It had the power to freeze people, but it couldn't do that to her, all it was able to do was scare her. Lydia refused to be scared that easily anymore. She had faced too many threats that were actually able to harm her, she wasn't going to let a building freak her out.

Lydia felt a lot bolder. While Peter reminded her of a wounded animal - ready to lash out at anyone - she had no intention to let it deter her. She was doing what she had done so often in the past: taking charge of the situation. Before the whole werewolf business had ruined her social life, she had done that often. Not when it mattered - as there weren't really all that many incidences of equal importance in her mundane highschool life - but she was good at it. Besides she was curious about whether Peter would fight her attempts to help him warm up.

Wasting no time, she walked into the bathroom and turned on the hot water. There was no further reaction from Peter. Lydia just tested the stream and when it was heated up enough, she dialed the drain shut and watched the water slowly fill the tub. Steam was spreading through the room and made her think of something else, she would need to turn on the central heating. She thought she had seen the control panel for it. At that point, she heard Peter walk into the bedroom.

Lydia joined him and saw how he was placing the suitcase near the wardrobe where she had put her other clothes. "If necessary I can create more space," he told her.

"I'm sure I'll manage," Lydia replied and went straight back to business. "While you take a bath, I'm going to call Stiles and order take-out. Do you have any specific wishes? I have the strangest craving for spinach pie."

There was something about his baffled look that she loved, as if he still couldn't comprehend what she was up to. "Why would you want to call Stiles?" he eventually said. With a scoff he added. "Thinking about giving him the address to lead him here?"

Lydia took a few steps closer. "I wanted to ask him to also look into instances where people froze to death on the cemetery, while he's researching the mausoleum. Also, he should know that someone took my SIM card, we wouldn't anyone sent him or others to a shady meeting place."

Peter looked at her intently, probably listening to her heartbeat trying to figure out if she was lying or not. "There's a cell phone on the coffee table," he told her. "2303."

Even though he had trusted her with the phone and the pin, Lydia could feel the distance Peter put between them. She was having none of that, he had dragged her into his life and while she was still not too happy about it, she also had accepted it as matter of fact. For now they were stuck together and he wasn't shutting her out.

Determined she stepped forward and took his wrist, to look at the burns on his right hand. The fingers were particularly bad where he had run them over the door. It did seem to get better even though the cold clung to Peter, contact with his bare skin was making her aware of just how cold he was. It was a wonder his heart didn't stop from the ice cold blood that pumped through it.

Curiously, she put her free hand over his chest, it was feeling a bit warmer than the rest of his body. There was a slight tremble in his otherwise stiff posture. The next move came without Lydia really thinking about it: leaning closer and sliding her arm around him. The cold that came from him made her shiver a bit but she didn't step away and instead placed his arm around her.

Then he responded by pressing her tighter against him, while avoiding to use his hands.

"I just want to make this clear, you do not deserve this!" Lydia reminded him.

"I know," Peter replied with an almost heart-breaking self-awareness, that was until his tone changed and he added. "I'm glad though that you've got a preference for guys that don't deserve you."

More symbolical than with any force she punched him the side and was surprised to hear a noticeable grown. She had forgotten that he had been pressed with this side against the stone door. She almost instinctively stepped back, upset at herself for feeling guilty about it. He brought it on himself, she told herself.

"Don't be cold, Lydia." Peter told her, downplaying the pain. "I already froze once today."

"I better turn on the heat, then we've got to get you out of those clothes!" she said firmly.

He just smirked at her, making her roll her eyes, but also smile. Who would have thought, she'd ever say that to Peter Hale?

It took her less than two minutes to find the central heat panel and to crank it up. As she got back, she found that Peter tried to peel off his sweater which stuck to the frostbite wounds at his side. While he had been able to move the gear with his palm, he had problems grasping the hem of his shirt. Lydia wondered how he even had managed to turn on the car.

She walked past him and sat down on the bed, where she removed her boots and then stepped on the bed to be tall enough to help him with the undressing part. He understood instantly what Lydia was up to and without wasting further words, he positioned himself so she was able to remove the sweater.

It wasn't easy, at first she lifted up the sweater, which caused more load, painful groans from Peter. Lydia hated to imagine how awful this must hurt, given that his side was looking awfully waxy. Some parts were reddish and a small area was even black, where she had ripped off the shirt. Next she freed the arm that was mostly injured and then went onto the other arm, which where the skin had become one with the sweater in some parts.

"If you thinks it looks bad …" Peter began but stopped when he say the look on her face.

"Shouldn't it start to heal?" she asked with a hint of nausea in her voice.

"It already has, but there might be something to you can do to speed it up. A spirited punch into my left side, where the sweater was previously attached, might do the trick," he explained calmly.

"You're seriously asking me to punch you in the side? Where your injuries are the worst?" Lydia asked to clarify, strongly hoping he wasn't expecting her to do that. It wasn't just the thought of causing pain, the smell and the putrid look of the wound was really disgusting.

Unfortunately, his expression made it clear that he was serious. "Usually, breaking an arm is pretty efficient but I don't think you're strong enough to do it. If you hit hard enough, it should do the same: cause pain and further injury."

"I can't," Lydia said taking a deep breath.

"Well, I'd point out you managed to whack me with a bottle just fine - but given how that turned out .." He shrugged and looked at her encouragingly.

"I better check the water."

It was more a flight forward but she needed to make sure the water wasn't too hot or ran over the edge anyway. There was the fact that she still needed to further undress him. At least she was sure that with the injuries and the amount of pain Peter was in inappropriate comments was all she needed to fear from him.

The tub was already filled a good deal and so she picked up the thermometer and saw that the temperature was a bit above 100 degrees. Good for warming up people - however with the injuries she wasn't sure if that was such a good idea. Peter would certainly protest if that worked against werewolf healing powers.

She decided to switch off the water and went back. Peter had slipped out of his shoes and socks in the meantime. More precisely, he was just in the progress of stepping on the edge of the last sock to strip the foot out of it. Lydia took a deep breath and decided not to fret but get on with it.

Peter had a way of making her pause just by looking at her in a certain way, and in that moment when she looked up and he leaned down, as if he was going to kiss her. Lydia understood why he moved so slowly, he tried to get Lydia to hit him after all. She looked down instead.

"Can't you just ask like a normal person?" she scolded him.

"I did," he shrugged and sighed. "It's okay, it will heal on his own eventually. Benefit of being an alpha."

"Why does it always have to be so violent?" Lydia complained. Everything that had to do with werewolves began and ended with violence. In moments like this, it seemed like that this was all they knew.

"I'm not seeking it out, it just unavoidable sometimes," he told her, his tone apologetic.

"Okay," she said with a heavy voice, "if it'll help - I'll do it."

He turned and bared the injured side to her, which looked even worse in a direct line of sight. As she raised her arm, Peter even gave her hints as to how to strike best. Lydia took it in and switched over to auto-pilot. Like in gym class, where she could always just listen to the instructions and then get it done reasonably well on first try.

It felt awful when her fist hit the cold, blistered and injured spot: some oozy liquid and blood leaked out and Peter curled up and groaned in pain. He got himself under control fast and just as she thought she might need to sit down, she could observe the wound shifting and constricting. It was beginning to close.

Lydia sighed in relief as she watched Peter adapting to the new sensation of the healing process. It didn't appear to feel that pleasantly even though it would leave him without a scar when it was done. "You should probably get under the shower and warm up," she pointed out.

"I know, just waiting for your helping hands," the smirk on his face was deserving of a second punch, but Lydia was too nice for that. It didn't help that anger wasn't the only emotion his comment kindled. When her fingers touched his waistband, she felt her cheeks flush and without looking up she could feel his eyes on her.

It wasn't the first time she had unbuttoned a guys pants but usually she had been in a hurry and right now she felt if she hurried, her fingers might fail her. She wasn't really nervous but her thoughts were drifting back to feeling him pressed naked against her. Lydia knew she shouldn't like sleeping close to him but Peter had been right: she did.

Holding back a sigh, she just went ahead, before she overthought this. It was bad enough how loud the sound of the zipper being pulled down in the total silence between them was. Avoiding to look she hooked her fingers into both waistbands and pulled jeans and pants down till both were past the knees.

Peter took advantage of her squatting down and put his less injured hand on her shoulder to keep his balance, as he stepped out of his clothes. She looked up at him. "Well, if I might make a suggestion, before you keep that smirk up, you'd better go and get warmed up," she said, holding up her fingers to show a tiny little gap between them. "It's that cold."

Laughter was the reaction her remark earned her and Lydia began to like that about Peter: no bruised ego lashing out at her, which was after Jackson and Aiden, such a welcome change. Not that Lydia considered him a successor to either but it was making her feel safer around him.

"Yes, I better get myself back in shape, so the lady has something to feast her eyes upon," he replied and oddly enough, she smiled despite shaking her head.

"You're unbelievable," Lydia groaned between amusement and incredulity.

"Yes, I recall you mention something about it," he said and disappeared quickly into the bathroom. His intonation left no doubt what he was referring to.

It was time to take care of other matters while Peter turned on the shower. She was almost out of the bedroom when she remembered she had no idea what he wanted to eat. Going back she peeked into the bathroom that was filled with a hint of steam asking him what he felt like eating. Peter had remembered that she had mentioned something Greek and went along with that, telling her to look for the bookmark in his macbook.

Since Lydia was hungry and Peter could always warm up anything that arrived too early, she ordered right away. The cell phone was where he said it was and the man taking the order had his address in his customer list, but under the address and not his name. Spell protection or not, Peter was careful. Ordering her Spanakopita and the Moussaka for him, she decided to take a minute to relax before she called Stiles.

"Tell me you don't have Lydia tied to a chair in a basement somewhere, dude. Tell me you're injecting some originality into this plot? Besides, Lydia doesn't seem like a girl who's going to forgive rope burns that weren't gotten in a way that's at least a thousand times more fun."

Lydia felt taken back by this onslaught of weird imagery.

"You might think you're the anti-hero swooping into save the day but, really, you're just a pervy old man. Hey, did you know that they have GPS that can track your phone's location in seconds? Really, in less than the time I've been talking," Stiles ranted on, completely set on auto-pilot.

Lydia just had to laugh, it was hard to believe that Stiles actually thought this was going to work. There was no way that Peter would fall for this, even if the spell wasn't protecting the flat to begin with.

"Lydia, is that you? Wow, really? You have the phone and you just now tell me you're on the line? Seriously, I'm losing my mind here with worry about you. God knows what this creep is doing to you! Did you get away? Can you run? Or has he tied you down and is tickling you with a feather?" he began to ask and Lydia had a hard time interrupting him.

"No and no and no," she said loudly, finally shutting him up. "You think entirely too much about me and ropes, Stiles."

"Where are you?" he wanted to know, sounding upset but also a bit angry. "Why did you scream earlier? When Scott heard it, I had - had scenarios in mind that were a lot less pleasant than the rope stuff."

"Nothing that bad actually. We went to look at the mausoleum, the one you're doing research on," she told him with a sigh.

"You didn't scream that way, when you were there with us!" Stiles pointed out. "He did something didn't he?"

Lydia rolled her eyes, she really needed to set him straight before all those ideas about what Peter was doing her drove him out of his mind. "It was a more aggressive vision," she said omitting the reason why she had it, "either way, I'm fine. I thought I call and let you know that Peter remembered something in connection with that place. Something about someone who froze to death in April."

Dead air hung between them for the space of a heartbeat. When Stiles spoke again, his voice was eerily calm. "Sure. Of course. That would be the only reason to call, to pass along information. Right, sure. Why else would you want to let anyone know that you weren't being ritualistically tortured? Thanks for taking the time out of your busy schedule, Lyds."

If Stiles meant to guilt trip her, it wasn't working, she was livid. She had told them already that she wanted to see this through. Even if it meant being more closely involved with Peter than she wanted. Anger made it hard for her bring forward a decent argument. Taking a cue out of Stiles' book of ranting she went on a tangent of her own.

"This attitude of yours, is exactly the reason why I'm here - because you can't get it through your heads that I need Peter's help - he's not harming me and he found out more than all of you together in the past weeks," she pointed out.

Lydia was really angry, because if they weren't all so stubborn, they could just convene together. Then they could see first hand that nothing shady was going on. As it was, especially with today's events, maybe it was better they had been alone. Her friends probably would've looked strange about seeing what she did in the bedroom or worse used this to attack.

"What's he found out?" Stiles asked mockingly. In the background she heard something fall to the ground before he went on. "New ways to make you scream?"

"No, we found out who did these killings, the ones that look like some animal hybrids did them," she said as calmly as she could, "Yoon's probably on her way to meet with Deaton and point out how to stop the creatures and what to do about it."

"Yeah, why aren't you coming along? Why isn't he?" he wanted to know and judging by his tone Stiles thought it was the ultimate argument against something being wrong.

"Maybe because you're not listening to him or me?" Lydia told him, "Look, my priority is to put an end to these killings, but honestly I do need his help for that. I don't expect you to like this, I don't like it - but I've accepted it."

"That's crazy, Lydia! Did you forget what he did to you?"

"I think we've been over that." Lydia rolled her eyes. She could point out again and again that they had no problem working together with Peter before. It had not deterred anyone that he put her through weeks of hell where she thought she was losing her mind. The sex ritual was nothing compared to that but they did not care about her opinion. It was outrage that Peter has taken what Stiles had wanted all these years. One thing she was really certain about, not being listened to really set her off more than anything and maybe because of that her next comment went past snarky and straight below the belt. "I just thought maybe you want to help cleaning up the mess you've made."

"Wow, you don't have the voice for turning tables, Lyds, and I guarantee you I'd stop repeating this record if you'd listen to it once all the way through," Stiles replied, hitting the entirely wrong nerve with her.

"Hearing the many ways in which you totally disregard my opinion and my wishes, won't sway me. It just makes me realise that I'm probably better off being with the one person who does listen to what I've got to say," she was about to hang up when she remembered something. "Since you're not listening anyway I probably won't need to warn you that someone stole my SIM card from the broken phone."

Right afterwards, she hung up and put the phone down. It rang a minute later, the number popping up in the display belonging to Stiles. Lydia waited a bit, picked up the phone but just stared at the display. Once he had stopped calling, she began sending a text. I'm going to work with Peter, learn to deal with it, until then we've got nothing to talk about.

That being sent off, she shut down the cell phone and laid back on the couch. This was exhausting, the problem was it wasn't getting her mad at Peter. She was mad at Stiles for not listening to her. How much clearer could she make herself? Maybe Yoon was right and they needed to hear this face to face from her in a situation where she could go with them.

Lydia had the feeling that Stiles would never talk to her again if he found out how she had spend the last nights and how she was planning to spend the next. It did not seem fair either, Peter had done so much worse to her than disregarding her opinion, he practically had taken her over and made her do things against her will. Lately, he'd drugged and used for his kinky sex ritual.

The thing was, Stiles said they were friends and Lydia just expected better from her friends. She wasn't staying with Peter for the fun of arguing with him. She wanted to stop more people getting killed. That being around Peter wasn't completely terrible and even had it's moments that should not be something to hold against her. Lydia felt Stiles would do that, not to mention she hated being treated like a victim for all the wrong reasons.

In a way being here with Peter was doing her good, it was the chance to come to terms with everything that had happened. With each hour she felt more optimistic about making it through all of this. She was becoming stronger because she was growing less afraid of what Peter might be able to do to her.

Her dream abilities were clearly stronger than Peter's. From what Yoon had said, even if Peter died again, he could never take her over like that again. Lydia was also getting a sense that he wasn't really out to harm her. Whatever he wanted it seemed that he needed her to agree to help, if he crossed over a line, Peter knew he wouldn't get that from her.

They might even get along on strictly ally basis. It wasn't like she was opposed to helping out if whatever goals he had weren't harming anyone and Peter could teach her a lot. At this point, being close to him was mainly awful for all the ideas his presence put into her mind that she really shouldn't be having.