were (you)

by bhanesidhe

• question everything • Bestfriends Scott, Stiles & Lydia were struck by tragedy when trapped in a car accident that took Claudia Stilinski's life. Scott & Lydia were rescued from the crash, Stiles body was never recovered. Traumatized & grief-stricken, Scott & Lydia drift apart until 6yrs later when a Monster descends on Beacon Hills. [AU]Were!Stiles Playlists @ 8tracks/bhanesidhe

14. inside

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Track 01 - Nude by Radiohead

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{Friday: Midday - Martin's House, Aires East}

"We have a very bad crisis," Natalie Martin said when she let herself into her daughter's bedroom after she barely knocked but hid partly behind the door.

From beneath the covers Lydia's hand went out to the night-table for her phone and turned it over for the time. There was no life in the damn thing. She peeked out to confront the morning and found a mass of misery sculpted into fitness wear gripping her doorknob. The rumbling puppy at the foot of her bed didn't like waking either.

"Also, there is no hot water," Natalie stated.

Lydia replayed the previous night; her shower had gone from lukewarm, to tepid to chilly rather quickly and without power they had no hot water heater. In aggravation she gripped her phone, no wonder it hadn't charged. As she glared at it, she noticed somehow soot was still under her filed down nails.

"I have a very bad solution," Lydia answered. As with the rest of her, her voice had yet to wake up and it sounded froggish in her ears. When she kicked off her blankets the air felt freezing from the clamminess of night sweat and she knew she couldn't bear one minute of smelling herself in that state. "We're going to the Argents'."

"Yeah?" her Mom all but laughed and leaned against the door crossing her arms, waiting to hear this explanation. Her solution would have been to swim in the Mad River.

"Yes," Lydia said, marching over to her closet to pull out a dressing gown fancy enough to pass as a dress, "they have a generator and several water heaters," not to mention she could check up on Allison. She swiftly tied up her hair and tossed a few articles into the black quilted Betsey Johnson satchel bag following a theme and smirked, ready to lead the way, "that's right I said several water heaters for their several bathrooms."

"We're going to just turn up unannounced?" Natalie questioned her daughter's lack of etiquette; she analyzed exactly how quickly the whole scheme went over.

"It's not like I can call ahead," Lydia shrugged and walked out. With a sleepy Palmerian swaggering in her wake.

Her Mom said silent nod of understanding, and a tilt to her head she watched her through the mirror. Her Mom changed from the workout paraphernalia and collected herself into a wrap dress. She grabbed the overnight bag from a trip she had yet to unpack from. She doubled back to the kitchen for the last accessory before hastening out into her car.

"Is that advisable?" asked Lydia when she noticed her Mom place a wine carrier bag behind them onto the car's floor. With a snap of her fingers Prada dutifully climbed into the rear of the car.

"Absolutely. It's rude to show up without a gift for the host," Natalie smiled sweetly as she strapped herself into the driver's side, glancing a few times into the rearview mirror to ensure the bottles' safety.

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"Mrs. Argent," Lydia addressed a shadow in the flowerbed.

"Victoria?" Natalie noted the shape across the edge of the lawn.

"Oh?" Victoria Argent stood and wiped the mulch from the knees of her denims. "I'm just trying to make sure the rain didn't murder my flowers."

"But they're perennials," Natalie pointed out, "they'll survive anything".

"It's just they're my favorites," she explained as she came to meet them on the path to the doorway. She removed her gardening gloves with slow caution before she put her hand out for Natalie to shake.

"No one's favorites are perennials," Lydia responded snappishly.

"Lydia," Natalie warned her to behave and went back to greeting Victoria. "Well, you're Digitalis look like they've flourished."

"Thank you," she shook Natalie's hand and shared smiles with Lydia. "Well, you two look to have weathered the storm as well." Prada yapped and followed up along the walkway, Victoria gave him a brief glance. "You three," She amended.

"Yeah, not exactly-" said Natalie ominously. Before Victoria started to question, Natalie gave Lydia a jab with the elbow, signaling her to hand over the carry container and they presented the bottle of red.

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Track 02 - Deception Pass by Amferraro

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{Noon - Argent's House, Westwood Neighborhood}

"Lydia?" Allison called out happily tearing through the second-floor hallway. They locked eyes when she paused along the over path. She doubled her speed at the confirmation her best-friend had turned up unexpected at her doorstep. Lydia met her at the bottom step and laughed, relief soaked through her bone-deep better than any shower.

"What are you doing here? I've been trying to reach you all morning!" she bounced a little, finding it difficult to stand still.

"We are here," she infers her Mom behind them, "for a little R & R."

"Really?" she leaned around to search for her Parents' confirmation.

Just out of everyone's line of sight her Father made a non-committal shrug, but her Mother gave a more assertive, "of course!" She held the Wine-Carrier tote bag high between them as she led the way in and locked the front door behind them.

With her satchel bag heavy in hand Lydia pushed Allison back up the stairs only to get blocked off by 2 men. The entrance hall crowded up quickly. The Martin dog circled at their feet briefly before sprinting into the house, towards the kitchen.

"We have guests?" Bennett asked from the top of the stairwell, grogginess filled his words.

"We have guests," Rumy leaned onto the handrail with amusement that lit his eyes from beneath his drooping mane.

"We won't be staying long" Natalie assured Chris, she looked to the strangers on the steps, "we only meant to come over to use the facilities if you can spare them." She chuckled, mildly discomforted at the intimacy of the request. "It's just power isn't back in every house in our neighborhood. Ours is one of the lucky ones I'm afraid."

"The power is only stabilized by sectors around town," after a breath Chris explained. "The electric company is still testing to ensure this sort of thing doesn't happen again. I guess it's just going to take a little longer in some places- Yeah, of course you can use our place, as long as you need to."

"You can have our room," offered Rumy appearing at the bottom of the stairwell.

"Our room?" asked Bennett, startled because didn't see him move and hadn't expected the suggestion.

"I don't think we'll stay very long," Natalie insisted, Vickie gave her a head shake as if to say, 'let this play out.'

"Sure, they'll need to have space to spread out, rest. Plus, Axel will be happy to have us at the Lodge."

Victoria and Chris choked on something akin to laughter but pushed on.

"Why can't I stay with you?" Lydia asked Allison.

She made a pained face, "Aunt Kate is up there. We're sharing still my room."

"I can ask her to share with me," Natalie offered. Allison and Lydia looked amazed that a solution would present itself so seemingly easily. "I don't see a reason why not. Look at how happy they are and after such a dark night. Plus," she added after a drawn-out pause, "I'd rather stay with someone I can stay up drinking with."

"It's settled, then," Chris said kindly. Natalie asked if she could speak to Kate, but Victoria explained she would ask on her behalf. She insisted on showing Natalie around, toward a first-floor bathroom only after breakfast. Possibly a liquid breakfast. Chris moved to the side of the foyer before he picked his Sergeant's brain. "Is that her?"

"Hmm?" Rumy perked up like a puppy, his attention drawn back from where he watched the women in the kitchen. Whilst a Prada impatiently dancing along the group, waiting for his family to pay attention.

"Her friend?" Chris stood by the stairwell. "Is that the one?"

"The 'what' now?" Rumy walked over. When he did, he pushed back his hair with both hands, his grey eyes stood steady and bright, staring, almost glaring into Chris' glassy bright blue.

"The best-friend she's always worried about?" Chris grinned, at his taller height and he looked superior, but they were always equal, and a little ready to argue.

Keeping in mind his duties as a Godfather he felt protective and answered, "can't be sure." With grin back, Rumy added "I never saw her with friends. Ask Bennett."

Bennett looked surprised to be addressed, in fact surprised to be remembered even. He hopped down a few steps, but they didn't actually ask anything.

"Rumy," Chris ground his teeth to which his best-friend just shook his head amused. "Tell me, is that the friend?" he asked Rumy again.

"Yeah, of course it is," Rumy leaned onto his best-friend's shoulder. With his hand opposite he gripped Chris' chin, he aimed for them to watch the girls turn the bend along the hall and disappeared from view. "Lookit her, that's her best-friend. She's likely to kill for her."

"So, either I get to go down to let Axel know we're bunking with him? Or I get to go upstairs, pack up our crap and then tell Axel?" grumbled Bennett from two steps above, leaning onto the handrail.

"Christ, Bennett, go pack. I'll tell Axel," groaned Chris dramatically. "Make sure to lock up anything suspicious until we can come back and get everything in the stash."

"Yeah?" Bennett looked like he could have tripped backward up the steps and nearly had.

"Yeah, I'll go tell Axel" Chris pat Bennett as he turned to drag Rumy with him toward the back door of the house. Bennett took off before anyone could change their minds and give him anymore responsibilities. "Rumy can keep our charming houseguest charmed until Bennett has the space all cleared out for ya."

"Oh, thanks buddy," Rumy's eyes were bright with amusement and ran his hand through his hair several more times as Chris shoved him toward the kitchen. "You do know you said charm twice in that sentence."

"It was intentional. Be on your best behavior," he smiled before reintroducing themselves to their houseguest in the kitchen. After a few minutes of 'Hello' and 'Thank You's Chris excused himself and made his way to the Lodge through the garden door, when Rumy stopped him to thank him a second time. He replied with a shrug "a best-friend's work is never done."

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Track 03 - Round Here by Counting Crows

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{Argent's House, 2nd Floor, Allison's Bedroom}

"Lydia, are you okay?" Allison asked before they barely got through the bedroom door.

"I'm fine," Lydia shrugged off her hold and moved to the bed. "I don't have a working a shower, and I look like this mess but- Allison, are you okay?" She ran her finger through Allison's normally smoothly combed locks. Allison looked as though someone poured her through a funnel that had been poured through a dirty laundry basket that had been poured through a tornado.

"I haven't been able to get ahold of anyone since last night," Allison looked to the floor as she began to pace.

"Well, my phone is dead. What happened after I left the Diner?" Lydia dropped to sit at the foot of the bed, directly in her line of sight.

"From what I can understand," Allison paused, gave it a thought, and continued to talk but not pace, "Scott's been royally grounded and Stiles has been placed under house arrest. Possibly Isaac, too."

"Of course," Lydia scoffed and made a gesture to the air to infer that it was inevitable. "But Allison, if no one died, why do you look like the crypt keeper?"

After hopping up from the bed she shoved Allison onto the spot she'd just vacated.

"Here," she instructed. And with a swiftness few could parallel, Lydia spun around and whipped open Allison's closet to pull down item after item but only after she gave it a critical -tight nod- or -upturned nose- within .003 seconds.

"You can pick from these clothes options here," Lydia flung some items unseen/backhanded overhead (some into the trash bin) items she placed as though they were precious cargo, "mix and match if you want. Just not the shoes."

"Are you mothering me Lydia?" Allison stared at the options equally flattered and mystified. The bathroom adjacent made an ideal changing room.

"Don't be ridiculous," Lydia scoffed. "I'm styling you. After last night, you're going to need help to get back into fighting form before facing a household of Hunters, plus my Mom." Lydia looked at Allison's wrists and noticed where their bruises were similar; she felt a fondness for their link but also noticed it as a problem. Anyone would be concerned about bruising on the wrists of one teenager. They would find a suspicious pattern in two teenagers: Pareidolia, the messages they could read into patterns. But nothing a few chunky bracelets couldn't obscure, so she handed Allison a handful to choose from. "You know they'll be armed with a bottle of Cabernet sauvignon."

Sat in the epicenter of what had been her (once tidied) bedroom, Allison felt stunned by her always unflappable friend and bobbed her head along, as she curled up on the bed. Lydia grinned at the sight and with a flourish she spun around to grab more accessories from her bag, "I just have to set the tone with a little montage music- where's my phone?"

"Charging," weighed with several wardrobe options, to talk, or move, or talk and move, Allison found herself slow on the uptake that she had been addressed.

"Did you set my phone to charge for me?" Lydia's eyes narrowed and she crossed the room quickly, her tone went chilly.

"Yeah," Allison replied flatly. When Lydia hadn't responded she continued, "and there are also fresh towels on the edge of the bed there." Allison nodded her head in one direction and then toward the door adjacent. "I left the water running so it'll warm up for your shower."

Allison quieted when Lydia kneeled onto the bed and crawled across it to meet her. Lydia barely made eye contact at all as she brought her face toward Allison's then groaned softly and made a slow drop onto the bed beside her.

"Ooh, what's happening?" Allison covered her mouth to keep from laughing.

"Can I not leave here, ever?" Lydia curled beside Allison and blinked up at her from under a drapery of uncombed, unwashed hair.

"We can just leave the hot water running. We'll just let the steam in," Allison suggested, plucking back the strands from her friends' face to see her clearer. "It'll be like a sauna while we camp out on a mountain of clothes and stuffed dolls?"

"Yes." Lydia answered reasonably.

Allison turned her weight and shifted, the mattress quaked a bit until she lay diagonal to Lydia and then she smiled. It was a dreary smile colored in exhaustion and blue with stifling worry. But across the chaotic landscape of Steve Madden and Mr. Bear, it was a smile Lydia reflected.

"Okay," Allison responded.

Lydia's eyes brightened momentarily before fatigue loaded down their lids. Allison rolled her eyes and blinked back her amusement only to have fallen asleep, just a little. Just the same.

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Track 04 - Open Your Eyes by Andrew Belle

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{Afternoon - Stilinski's House, Beacon Garden Community}

"It isn't, unfortunately for us, as simple as selecting the next strange occurrence and declaring it a triangulation point," the Sheriff mumbled, his voice turned groggier from the dehydration of too many cups of coffee.

Parrish blinked back sleep, and when the alarm went off on his phone, he was too tired to react. He turned it off after some hesitation and reset it for the third time.

"Deputy, sleep exhaustion won't help your next shift. You should probably go home," the Sheriff reminded.

"I will. I will, in a bit." He insisted and stood up in defiance of his natural instinct to recline. He aimed toward the refrigerator and grabbed a cold slice of pizza for late-breakfast.

After his double-shift, Parrish turned up at the Stilinski's first thing in the morning. He shared his evening's indecipherable notes with grease stained fingers.

"You sense they're connected," he said, and Parrish nodded, "and I have no doubt that they are. What do we have to work with?"

"They both stopped vehicles along the same Highway, the Wolf to the far North and the Coyote to the South," Parrish scratched out onto a fresh page of his notepad.

"Except, the Wolf that attacked Claudia's car deliberately caused an accident," Stilinski said rubbing his forehead. "From what you described the Coyote jumped placed itself in the path of traffic to prevent accidents."

"Even after the crash, the Wolf climbed down the cliff side and clawed open the doors. It wanted to hurt people but the Coyote, it snapped at people playfully," Parrish mumbled through a mouthful of food.

"Reassessing the evidence, we know that's why the Wolf persuade the injured kid and not to the two healthier ones being approached by sirens. It had continued the hunt," the Chief's voice changed, hard, in total contrast to the way he had trained it to remain indifferent when he said Claudia's name. He couldn't reconcile the years he had been robbed of sharing with his son. He wouldn't reconcile that, and no one could blame him.

"But the Coyote," Parrish pushed on without hesitation, "stuck around to play and only left when I confronted it."

"The Wolf took off to the East," the Chief sighed and stared at the map.

"The Coyote ran into the woods, also towards the East," the Deputy said with a little more spirit. "That's something."

They stared up at the map. They'd dropped a clear film map marking their animal sightings/related reports over the topical map marking the murder investigations of the Sheriff's department.

"All of the murders fall between those two points," Parrish pointed out.

"No, all of the places where the murdered bodies have been found are between those two points. That doesn't prove they're related," Stilinski reminded and slurped at the coffee. They stared in silence at the massacre masterpiece they'd begun to create.

"If we had a third animal-attack point, we would have a way to triangulate... although it does look to lean toward the woods," they both tilted their heads to the right at Parrish's observation though it made no difference in the feature before them.

"But what would we anticipate. A massive Wolf sighting? A giant Coyote? A goddamn Mountain Lion?" he pushed back on his chair so that it leaned, and his heels caught at it to keep it from tipping. When the landline rang, the Sheriff nearly tipped.

Parrish didn't laugh but went to get it since it was meant for emergencies only.

When he returned, he asked, "do forest fires on haunted properties in the woods apply? Because then we'd have a third point."

The Sheriff's face looked wholly un-amused and less so when the Deputy explained the Preserve Rangers contacted the Sheriff's department only after the rain put out the fire, and even then, only after the Fire Marshall called an 'all clear'.

"Alright," he hopped to his feet. "Go home. Get some sleep. It looks like I'm going to need you on your best game later."

They took to their feet and while Parrish grabbed his coat Stilinski grabbed a cover for their investigation board and headed upstairs to check up on his son.

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When the Sheriff opened the door to his son's bedroom, he found the room an explosion of paperwork that looked nearer to planning a road trip with the print outs of location oddities like one would find on Science Fiction television shows. Isaac lay fast asleep curled into a computer chair rotating near the desk snoring indelicately while Stiles lay draped half-on, half-off the bed drooling onto a printout.

"Boys," he tried to wake them without barging in, but they hadn't responded, "BOYS!" with that both startled, Stiles fell from the bed and Isaac jumped to attention.

"I don't know what's going on here," he continued cutting off Stiles as he tried to explain in what obviously had to be a lie, "and I don't want to know. But this mess better not be here when I get back. There's no school today and cold pizza downstairs. Stiles, I don't know a nicer way to say this, but I love you kid and you're not to leave the house." The tone in his voice swung from endearing to warring.

"But Dad, what if I need to leave the house? What if there is a fire?" started Stiles while he came to kneel, readying for an argument.

"That's why I posted an officer at the door," his Dad grinned, Stiles dropped back to the seated position. He made a gesture as if to acknowledge 'touché, for this round' "you're not to leave this house unless there is a fire."

"Dad," Stiles forcefully cut in, "you didn't get any sleep." He kneeled up from his space on the floor, stopping his grab at the mass of papers with worry over his face.

The Sheriff smiled briefly, "there was a fire in the Preserve." He shrugged, "you know what they say, 'there's no rest for the wicked'."

Stiles' guilt weighed too heavily for witticism. "No, I guess not."

"Isaac, the officer outside will arrange a ride home whenever you need one," he nodded toward Isaac.

"Thanks," he mumbled groggily wiping at his mouth. He knew a small amount of the guilt Stiles felt and he wanted out as soon as possible. "But I left an SUV at the hospital that belonged to the Argents. I promised to get it back to them in the morning." Stiles gave him a look that read cheater.

"Yeah, they'll help with that, no rush. You boys take your time; you had a long night after all. I'll see you later," he gave Stiles a parting look that articulated with tiredness and heartache how very much he didn't want to part. And then he tapped the door with his knuckle a few times in nerves and parted.

Isaac looked to Stiles expecting some clever line that glossed over the nerves, but he went straight to work, clearing up their investigation into retracing their steps; where was it they last saw Cora? Where was it they had been attacked? How was it this connected to the death of an Alpha? How could it connect to the Hale House fire? What was the likelihood that Cora carved the revenge marking on the Hale House door? Etc. etc. etc.

"Stiles" Isaac glanced at black and white photos of the original fire and compared it to the memory of the night before, "do you think this was her way of letting us know she's alive?"

He sat up, his eyes were red rimmed and when he ran his hands through his hair, he left it splayed at random angles. "She isn't known for subtleties. Dude, we should find her in no time."

Isaac looked at the ocean of paperwork Stiles sat in; he followed his line of sight and gulped at the ridiculousness of his statement. But with his nose to the grindstone, Stiles had no time to feel increasing guilt on the stresses their activities caused his Dad.

"I can take off-" Isaac started.

"Yeah, whenever you want," answered Stiles without looking up, "I'll let you know if I find anything."

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Track 05 - Hanging Tree by Jennifer Lawrence

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{Afternoon – Argent's House, Westwood Neighborhood}

The 1st thing he noticed when he pulled up to the Argents was Mrs. Martin's car and Isaac couldn't help but wonder how it was the Martins always turned up in the most dangerous places, at the most unlikely times and before he could manage to get there.

"How did you get Kate's car keys?" the man at the door asked.

Evidently, he couldn't hand them over to Kate directly because she had disappeared early that morning before anyone could account for her.

"Kate lent them to us last night to get home?" Isaac wavered. He hadn't meant for it to sound like a question but the dark framed glasses at the door meant business.

"Us?" he asked.

"My foster brother, Stiles?" Isaac answered, although why he easily sent to the interrogation was a mystery.

"Ahh, the Sheriff's son," the man leaned against the door, he tossed the keys in the air with ease and accepted Isaac's story, "I heard something about that."

"We got stuck out in the rain after we made some bad choices and we called Allison," Isaac cleaned his clothes up enough that he didn't reek of soot and smoke evident from the Hale House fire. He couldn't imagine bringing it up would be a good topic for anyone involved.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," suddenly Isaac felt like if he didn't get out of there he would be taken to some secret room and get tortured until he provided some government secrets.

"Well, thanks." With that he spun around, shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets and with a bit of a skip in his step, headed down the pathway off the property.

"How're you going to get home without a car?" the man called from the doorway.

Oh, man Isaac heard so many scenarios play in his head but the top 3 were:

1) I can drop you off home. - The man would offer, and Isaac would be screwed to say the Sheriff or his squat.

2) My girlfriend [Lydia] can probably drop me off - Lydia would kill him so dead. So very, very dead.

3) Allison can drop me off - how screwed would Allison be, especially since he would need a favor from her very soon and this would be too early to burn that bridge.

"I can walk to the bus from here," Isaac called from the edge of the lawn as he walked backward, not breaking his stride. He felt as though if he kept his eyes on the man, if he could just demand he back off with a glare than everything would be fine. It seemed to work, albeit Isaac nearly walked into the middle of the road but there wasn't traffic.

Keeping his word Isaac walked all the way to the bus station, waited a good 10 minutes. Then he said to no one "ah, well if it isn't coming," and justified his turning around and returning to the Argent's home.

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Track 06 - Broken by S. Carey

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{Argent's House, 2nd Floor, Allison's Bedroom}

As re-caps go Allison's weren't terrific.

"Is this what Kate meant by being green?" Lydia sat at the top of the bed, her back to the headboard, her knees drawn up. She procrastinated taking that shower she allegedly desired, factually they both had. "How do you even get through a debriefing with your family?"

Clear-headedness came after their catnap; the night before needed some clarification.

Lydia felt stealthier because she knew Allison had no way of knowing she ran into Kira, so she didn't bring it up. She wanted a little more time to explore her self-discovery before she announced it to the group. But she did mention Jackson's marks matched as if he had been struck by lightning although they knew better.

Allison recapped what Lydia had missed after leaving the Diner, or at least she tried to. She tried line after line to tell Lydia private stories, but it seemed something in her nerves choked her up. When she gave reports in the 'War Room' they were unbiased, but each word now felt like emotional blackmail.

"Tell me," Lydia insisted. Although annoyed she wasn't harsh just fascinated by Allison's fidgety starting of a sentence and finishing it in her head.

"They have a brother, and a sister who died," she said the later part low and miserably wringing her hands. "Have sisters. A couple."

"I heard Isaac talk about them a little," Lydia lied. She barely remembered him blurt their names. "That's good, isn't it?"

That steadied Allison surrounded by heaviness she stepped back until the backs of her thighs met the bed and she had to sit. She cradled in her hands in her lap. When she turned to Lydia, she smiled but there was no mirth in it.

"No, it really isn't good," she looked to the bed and plucked at invisible thread.

While on Allison's bed, with the headboard to her back, Lydia didn't have instruction on how to pull Allison from her ache. Nurturing that wasn't where her talent lay. But she had an assortment of nail polishes arranged beside her and a choice of her favorite accessories on the nightstand.

"Go on," she said without looking up as she picked through some rings. They glittered and distracted Allison a little so she climbed further onto the bed and watched the way Lydia analyzed.

"Someone grabbed the natural born Werewolf," Allison explained. Lydia's brow creased in discomfort, either at the supernatural description or at the accessory choice. "The other girl went over a cliff fighting an Alpha."

"Did the Alphas hurt Stiles or Isaac?" asked Lydia as she nodded considerately and ran her fingertips along a midi ring.

"I think so. They seemed so miserable. They scattered and left behind the people they loved to survive," Allison's voice grew quiet and while Lydia placed three rings in the palm of her hand and pushed them around then gestured for her to pick.

Allison's mind focused on the smooth surface, on cyclical form and symbol of continuity that reminded her, however good or bad would come back to the middle. She slipped her choice on, and she looked at it critically.

"You don't do that as Hunters?" she asked calmly dropping her hand into her lap. When Allison didn't answer right away, she started to organize and put her jewelry away. Afterward she crossed her legs and scooched a little closer. Then Lydia asked, "are you going to make me repeat the question?"

"Yeah, but that's different," Allison turned herself to better face Lydia, she fussed with her hair. She pushed it back behind her ears and looked to Lydia, she tried to make eye contact as if to validate her explanation, but Lydia played with the nail polishes on the bed instead, clanking the colors selecting one over the next over the next over the next.

"We're soldiers. We're ready to die. But they were just killed," Allison finally explained. She shook her head when she said so, and her hair came forward again as if it were weighed down by her misery. "I don't know how to help them. None of them will even talk to me."

Then suddenly, "everything is going to be fine," Allison said pressing her hands into the mattress to launch her upward and start her to pacing.

"Everything is going to be fine," Lydia repeated only she sounded convincing. "Sit. I'll do your nails," she insisted with a smile.

There couldn't have been a nicer way to say, 'stay still or I'll make you,' at least for Lydia anyway.

Surprising Lydia, Allison chose a vibrant red. And in the minutes it took to apply and the advertised '10 seconds' it took to dry, her hands grew steadier as they lay in Lydia's hand.

"See," Lydia showed her the end result, "I told you. Everything is going to be fine."

"Today, we rest, restore, renew," Allison conceded as she glanced toward the shower.

"Today, we pamper ourselves," Lydia corrected with a grin, "can't you work on saving the world tomorrow?"

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Track 07 - Pilgrim by Fink

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{meanwhile throughout Argents' House}

Evidently once Kate got home it turned right into a party. Norm and Roman were already visiting from the Lodge to help Bennett clear things from the bedroom upstairs, but Axel and Fry joined the ranks in the main house.

Surprisingly, a full house made it a little bit easier to sneak around. With the intention of dedication to their R+R time, Allison collected two bottles of soda, (1 light/1 dark), and what snacks she could grab from the hall-pantry, along with an assortment of miniature chips from Fritos to Doritos. Basically, whatever she could manage to get while sliding up and down the stairs without being noticed by those distracted entertaining guests in the main room.

{Argent's House, 2nd Floor, Allison's Bedroom}

As Allison waited for the shower to finish, she tucked in the corners of the duvet and felt for a knife hidden between the mattress and the box spring. As the shower switched off, she moved stealthily across her room toward the open window with barely a noise as her instincts told her there had to be an invader.

There was little surprise on her part when she reached through the curtains and grabbed hold of a ratty collar and scarf. She hauled Isaac's weight and launched him forward onto the floor and landed kneeling on top of him with her knife to his throat.

"Next time, I'm electrifying the windows, Isaac," she warned, her tone read annoyed, but her expression read amused.

Barely back to his senses Isaac glanced at his predicament and put his hands up in surrender, "I swear I wasn't peeping."

Allison gaped at him and after a moment Isaac's face colored, the thought hadn't even occurred to her. She tightened her grip at his collar, "Explain. What are you doing here? What is it this time; did Scott send you to check up on me?"

Isaac's Adam's apple bobbed dangerously close to her blade as he squirmed, "I didn't think of that."

"'You didn't think of that?'" she eased up and with a tilt of her head waited for an explanation.

"When I was trying to think of excuses to sneak in," he grinned uncomfortably and rubbed at the imaginary damage to his throat.

With a stylish roll she got to her feet. Allison offered her hand for him to stand but he gave her a look, a brow raised with a crooked arch and lips pressed thin enough to nearly vanish. His ascension was far less graceful.

"Isaac, what is going on?" she asked dropping back onto the bed beside her snacks. It set the picture; teenage plans of drinks and snacks on one side, deadly Chinese dagger on the other. There was no way Isaac could bring himself to ask for a favor. Instead, he moved on.

"How come Lydia is here?"

Maybe that was the wrong direction. Allison sat straighter, leaned forward and her face started to look more confused than displeased. "What?" it sounded like an accusation.

Isaac figured if he said he had been looking for Lydia it would make sense, after all the relationship they had and her abrupt disappearance the night before, "she keeps turning up in dangerous places. Like she has some sixth sense or something."

Of course, he spoke a theory aloud before completing a thought.

"Why are you following her? She can handle herself," Allison's expression relaxed, and she took to her feet, she tucked her weapon back away in her bed.

"I want to apologize," he said sincerely, after some thought. He thought about Stiles left behind stressing over his Dad, stressing over Cora. He thought about Allison, stressed over Scott stressing over her. He thought about Lydia stressing over everyone and lying about it. He considered he got away with walking away when it got complicated because he told himself no one cared. But Lydia sometimes cared enough to yell at him. Like she had last night. Like she had several nights.

"Did it occur to you if your apology were a bit less stalker-ish she might give you at least 2 seconds of her time?"

"Oh," Isaac stood in the center of her room, dumbstruck. Allison offered him some chips to put into it and he readily accepted.

They ate loudly and when he became a little more at ease and he took a seat toward the foot of her bed, Allison looked over at him and gave him a narrow-eyed gaze.

"Are you going to tell me the real reason you're here?" she said quietly between munches. He popped another jalapeño chip into his mouth and looked to her, his absentminded expression perfected. "Only you should know, in the end even though I've got a compound bow and ring daggers within reach it'll be Lydia who'll torture the truth out of you."

Needless to say, he choked on his chip.

.

"If I could help, I would," she answered honestly. It read in her voice, in her heartbeat and in the way her hands started to cling to one another. At the very least, Allison could assure Isaac she genuinely wanted to help, unfortunately "but the only place my family would have evidence is in the 'Meeting Room, and that place puts the POTUS situation room to shame."

"What if you just pointed me in the direction," Isaac flicked out his claws, "I'm getting better with these."

"It wouldn't help," she shook her head. "The walls' mortar has tiny amounts of Hecatolite mixed in. It makes it hard for shapeshifters to do what they do." She ticked off complications on her hand, "I'd need a look out, the key code, avoiding pressure mats, a way to access the right files and the perfect interval where Norm and Roman aren't coming upstairs and sneaking things out of the guest room."

"You mean Mr. Glasses and Limbs. Jr?" Isaac gestured to his face and made a mild flailing motion to emulate her Hunter friends.

Allison gave a nod and tried not to laugh, she could only assume Isaac got to know her kin from dangling from the side of her house.

"It's just not something that I can imagine pulling off-" she fiddled with her fingertip.

"Allison," Isaac felt sorry for the position he put her in but since he finally got the words out, he needed to get it all out. He brought her left hand into his, "I have your back, but I do need this. The evidence Kate gave us, were Werewolves' claws. You know we can't use them without the help of an Alpha. She could have just handed over a copy of autopsy reports or literally anything else."

If Allison hadn't filed away the Sheriff's crime scene photos with her family's report, she might be of some use. If only that night in the car, she had let Isaac look at the photos this might have been so much simpler.

"That was harsh of her," she said, biting her lower lip. In frustration it was uncertain the condemnation was aimed at Kate or herself. "Now things must seem bleak."

"You know, if you asked me to help you might stand an actual chance of success," said Lydia from the bathroom doorway.

They jumped apart and to their feet but before they could argue she reminded since only she saw the actual crime scene, "outside of an Alpha reading those claws for you, I'm the best bet you have."

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Track 08 - All I See by Lydia

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{Sneaking into Argent's House, via Back Garden}

After he couldn't find where his Mom hid his bike's keys Scott took the next worst thing and stole her car keys. The idea of stealing Stiles away from under the Sheriff's watchful eyes for a third time in 24-hours would not only break their Father-Son trust as much as blow it up. Instead, he took advantage of the fact that working double-shift back-to-back would exhaust his Mom to the point of sleeping through virtually Armageddon. That wasn't to say he didn't push the car in neutral halfway down the block before he drove it to Allison's and parking it on the farthest end of her street.

It would have been far too obvious to sneak in through the window. That was cliché after all. It was so cliché that it had been done once already that night, and Scott had seen Isaac do it from the neighbor's yard.

Scott was certain Isaac had to have had a good excuse but at the moment his mind drew a blank. He sensed the same approach twice might cause a commotion and he didn't want to be obvious. He only wanted to get a hold of Allison. After seeing Mrs. Martin's car in the driveway, he assumed Isaac came to visit Lydia.

There, that was another box on the list Scott had to check off of people he had to make amends to. Well, not exactly make amends so much as things ended on the wrong foot and it was worth flipping off of his own house roof and committing grand theft auto.

Crawling through the bushes, the options for point of entry became obvious when from the back window he watched Lydia sneak into the hallway pantry. All the other rooms had the population of a small country getting rowdier by the moment, but through the hallways Lydia slipped around like a ghost. A fluttering dark dress and straight streaming hair behind her as she slipped around the bend, by a jarred office door, into the pantry for a tin of cookies, bowing under people's eye line to get over into the kitchen and to the ice cream in the refrigerator. She tossed her findings and some spoons into a Tupperware container, just in time for Kate Argent to frog-march Scott McCall through the back-garden door, into the house… ruining Lydia's perfect crime.

"Now, what the hell are you doing here?" asked Lydia in a most accusatory tone.

Kate couldn't have put it more menacingly herself. "Shouldn't I be asking-?"

They were interrupted by the sudden presence of a 1ft tall white furball with brown ears, which awoke from where he nestled by a bowl of water and a bowl of kibble. Prada didn't like raised tones voices around his mistress.

"No," Lydia bypassed Kate entirely, ignoring her little travel companion, "I'm still mad at you. Did you follow me here? You're stalking me aren't you, you petty little snot? Do you know how pathetic that is? Or are you here checking up on someone else? That's it, isn't it? I don't even know where to put you on the level of stalker loser; just below someone who says, 'God is telling them we should be together' or above someone who 'makes a pillowcase from strands of my hair'."

A light laughter came from over her shoulder from backyard and Kate's attention was drawn to a black teen, half-cockiness, and half-business.

"Hate to tear you away from the drama, since I know how you love to do that, but Axel says Fry said you said to call you about something I don't even begin to understand but-" he rambled towards Kate.

"It's alright Bennett, I know. And thank God!" Kate put her hands up in surrender.

"Nice seeing you again," the teen named Bennett gave them both a nod before leaving with Kate, through the door and back to the Lodge area.

Between the Hunters' knowing nods, Kate's startling capture and Lydia's fury Scott truly felt he had been left with the worst choice.

Lydia remained still and glaring at him then released a breath that almost deflated her entirely.

Then Scott rushed to his defense, in what felt like his only chance, "I am so sorry Lydia. I had no idea I made you feel- I'll take off if you want, I just wanted to- I don't understand what exactly but if-"

"What are you talking about?" she looked at him as if he were insane. She walked behind the kitchen counter to see through the garden window toward the Lodge. Her expression softened toward him over the counter she gave his arm a light shove. Her nerves were the only thing that prevented her from smiling properly, she explained, "I thought you guys could sense when someone lies."

"Oh," Scott swiveled around to face her. He focused on her heart rate, he tried to understand where it should have been or where if differed from his. "Normally I can," he thought aloud. Her grace under pressure was often hard to gage

"Well, I guess that should tell you something," Lydia said, her smile came genuinely implying maybe there still laid a little anger, but it mattered very little. She gestured with jerk of her head for him to follow. He took a moment to scratch the little furball between the ears until he settled back into his tired repose and then followed Lydia's direction. At a touch he felt that travel didn't suit the Pomeranian well, but the little one did calm to hear Scott and Lydia's voices bouncing back and forth.

Towing Scott along, she backtracked, and she led him through the pantry and along a smaller hall than the one that led directly to the front door. Despite their bone-chilling confrontation with Kate, Lydia decided to up the ante and while avoiding the main room where members of the family lingered, she took a path through Mr. Argent's study. Tossing Scott, the Tupperware container she flittered along and pulled down a flask from a display case.

"Did you just steal alcohol from Allison's Father?" Scott looked more blanch faced than when Kate had marched him in through garden door.

"Stealing is a harsh word," Lydia softly slid the door closed behind them.

"What would you call it?" Scott whispered, as they stood with their back to the door.

"Temporarily misappropriated," Lydia snatched back the Tupperware, "I'll put it back once it's served its purpose."

"What's that?" Scott followed once more as Lydia marched on.

"Liquid courage," she shrugged popped open the flask and after she sniffed it took a mindful sip.

"Can I apologize now?" he treaded cautiously, to which Lydia only swallowed her sip harshly. "Whatever I did to drive you out of the Diner-"

"Seriously Scott," she abruptly interrupted. Lydia shook her head as she handed the flask over, insisting he seal it away in the Tupperware. "We've fallen off a cliff together. Last night a burning house collapsed on us... so you spilled some coffee on me, I forgive you."

He was uncertain whether Lydia was striving for reasonable or delusional, but she wasn't unaccustomed to wearing either mantle.

"Alright, Lydia what the hell is going on? Can you please go back to yelling at me, this is freaking me out," he chuckled from nerves as he pleaded. Her heartrate slowed mildly, the alcohol seemed to have its desired effect.

"We're making ice cream shakes upstairs," Lydia explained snatching back the Tupperware and rattling it. "Just trying to have a little R+R after the last few days," as if she snagged herself on the carpet Lydia's eyes went toward the floor.

"Scott?" she asked warily.

"Yeah?" Scott followed her line of sight, stood before her, and looked down to see what caught her fascination but saw nothing.

"When we were in the Chem lab at the school, why do you think you started to transform?" she asked. Scott was honest to a fault but being straight forward about being a Werewolf was new. New-ish.

"Isaac and I had just fought. I figured it had to do with fighting him, didn't it?" Scott's face read clearly, he doubted.

"That's what you thought or is that what you felt?" she continued, her eyes looked uncommonly vulnerable. "What I mean is, after the fight, when it was just us, do you think I made things worse?"

"What?" Scott's voice rose abruptly, he knocked into the container. And grabbed it before it fell over, they held it between them almost like a conduit, he could feel her trembling through it like tiny vibrations. "You're kidding right? You pulled me out of that mess. You have been pulling me out of messes since before I can remember. You keep pulling me out of messes even when you hate me, especially when you hate me."

"Because if anyone is going to tear you down, it's going to be me," she laughed lightly and tossing her head slightly to get her hair out of her eyes.

"Exactly!" he grinned, "I'm not exactly sure what happened that day, I just know if I didn't have you, things would have been a whole lot worse."

She trusted his eyes more than his words, "Thank you, Scott."

Whether he let go of the container or she snatched it back, they broke apart and leaned beside one another against the shelved wall. Her breath had gone calmer while his mind started to race.

"While we're asking weird and probing questions," Scott started. Lydia turned side-glanced at him and raised a warning brow. "Jackson, how is he?"

She scoffed, "He's not dead." As a catalyst, how effective could she be toward supernaturals if she couldn't figure out how to help Jackson? Or for that matter how to be effective at all?

"They say he's brain dead but Scott-" she felt confident to tell him something she hadn't confided in Allison although it wasn't very much. "-but he doesn't feel that way to me. I can feel him," with one hand she hugged the container, the other she put her hand in front of her in the air and splayed her fingers. "He's there. Asleep just underneath." Scott nodded as if he understood. It's quite probable that being supernatural he would, but Lydia was still learning. As she lowered her hand, she imagined she still felt it buzzing from Kira's energy, but she knew even that was stretching her hypotheses.

"I think he's going to be okay," Scott insisted.

She glanced over at him more fully, "I think so too."

"The Whittemore boy?" Chris Argent asked, pushing open his office doors.

On instinct Scott pulled Lydia to his side to defend her, on instinct Lydia held up the Tupperware as a shield.

"Whoa! You guys don't need to be scared. Unless of course you're up to no good," Chris said his words in exaggerated peaks, with his teetering steps and evident he was inebriated.

"Just talking about Jackson. He's my Co-Captain on the lacrosse team," Scott started lamely.

"And he's my ex-boyfriend," she concluded on better footing.

"You say he's going to be okay?" Chris asked while he entered further.

"Scott, you should take this home to your Mom, she's been overworked at the hospital and deserves these leftovers," Lydia ushered him toward the door, "I can tell Mr. Argent about my visit with Jackson."

"But-" Scott started to argue.

"No. Why don't the both of you stay," Chris moved to block the door, "What's the rush?"

"Because," fueled on by liquid courage Lydia bolstered on. "Melissa's overworked and Scott should have delivered these hours ago." She just shoved the Tupperware container into his hands, pushed him out of the office and closed the doors behind him.

Before Scott lay a clear path to Allison's bedroom yet again, Lydia rescued him, without even being asked. Considering the payoff, it might just be worth getting kicked in the teeth on the constant occasion.

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Track 09 - Line of Fire by Junip

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{Argent's House, Main Stairwell}

Isaac meant to familiarize himself with the layout of the Argents' home, while sneaking out through the front door. He had been too busy looking up toward the "Meeting Room" and the guest rooms, just as Scott had been keeping his eyes downward trained on Chris' study, they didn't see the other until they nearly bumped into each other mid-staircase. They stared at each other in awkward pause.

"I'm just taking out the trash," explained Isaac and held up crumbled potato-chip wrappers.

"Bringing up stuff for ice-cream sundaes," added Scott and lifted up the Tupperware container.

There would be time for lengthy explanations, why circumstances accelerated Scott's development to suppress his presence, why Isaac chose to case the joint or even why either turned up when they should have avoided Hunters. Instead, they gave a nod and moved passed.

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Track 10 - Dangerous by Big Data

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{Sunset – Argent's House, The Lodge/Back Lawn}

"This is puppetry," Norm muttered while he crossed the lawn.

"This is hilarity," Bennett grinned meeting Norm and Roman half-way. The sky streaked of horizon ombres from orange to reds to blues, Bennett paused to admire it.

"Come on, it's virtually delightful," laughed Roman as he hurried to catch up then out stripped his Uncle.

"Why are we turning the house upside-down for a couple of visitors?" griped Norm.

"I think Queen Victoria is trying to make point," Roman stopped and said low between the two, "a Hunter is only as good as their façade, façade, façade."

"Goddamn it," Norm said at a grunt and tried not to laugh while he adjusted his glasses against glare of the sunset.

"I've got to get back to the house," Bennett reminded, "how long do you think it'll take for you to clear out our floorboards?"

"Christ! You've got munitions in the floorboards?" Norm's eyes would have seemed wide with surprise, only they were made to look disarming, rimmed as they were and the color of dark coffee.

As he led back to the house, Bennett shook his head like a critical parent, "look I don't know how much longer I can chill within 5 feet of watching Rumy flirt. That nice lady is going to get bored and want to go to sleep, so clear out that bedroom, chop-chop." He clapped his hands to accent his emphasis.

They slipped through the small garden door leading into the kitchen; a little more than amused, Roman jostled Bennett as he passed by him. Norm may have mumbled the word 'boys' low by way of warning.

"The way I see it we're doing things distinctively out of order," said Norm as he slid the door quietly closed behind him. "We shouldn't be moving munitions from the house. Right now, we should be securing the compound, battening down the hatches."

"Fair point," said Bennett in a hushed voice, "but I think we would still feel safer if you could remove the pressurized explosives from the guest room."

"Come on," without intending to undermine Roman often did, "with the recent option being 'get invaded' or 'have our house burned down on us', what are a few hidden weapons going to help you?"

"We didn't have hidden weapons for invasions sake," gestured Bennett with an artful flick of his wrist, "we are collectors. True connoisseurs."

Norm held them off, the sort of soft sound of someone creaking open the front door caught their attention. Bennett quickly crept forward to look around the bend and caught sight of a tall sandy-haired trying to sneak unseen out of the house. It was the stuff teenage comedies were made of until his joy of surprise was ruined by another.

{Argent's House, 1st Floor, Front Foyer/Main Stairwell}

"Isaac? Is that you?" Natalie Martin called out as she entered the foyer. She had a look of delight flew across her face, with an empty bottle in her hand and looking all the pink of perfection warmed over from wine.

"Mrs. Martin," Isaac spun around to face her as she came in from the main room. "It's great to see you. You look amazing."

She rushed forward to hug him, a bit tipsy from drinking. Aside from being barefoot she looked put together artfully, and it reminded him of all of the after-game parties at her home. She would appear at the end like some apparition announcing it was safe to go home.

"Thank you so much for coming to check up on Lydia," she reasoned... reasonably, so Isaac went with it.

"Of course, where else would I be," he eased back and wondered how easily he could get out, guiltlessly.

"See," she insisted and looked toward her friend who had just joined them, Allison's Hunter Mother of course. "He's a much better boyfriend than that Jackson jerk." Isaac cringed inwardly and ran through too many scenarios in his head where that comment would get him in hot water.

"That's nice of you to say Mrs. Martin, but I should probably head home. It's getting dark out," Isaac reminded.

"Then you should stay. You need to," she insisted, ruining his plan. "Doesn't he?" she swung around to look for permission. They were met with by several avid faces and Isaac realized he was doomed.

"Yes. Of course," Victoria answered awkwardly. "We wouldn't have it any other way."

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Track 11 - You Know What I Mean by The Cult

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{Argent's House, 2nd Floor, Allison's Bedroom}

At Allison's bedroom door, Scott realized too late he couldn't reach the doorknob to turn it. He tried to balance the container partly on his thigh and against his forearm and scratched at the doorknob. He didn't feel brave enough to call out her name, but she got the hint.

She swung open her bedroom door and answered the wrong name "Lydia?"

"Not exactly," he murmured with a meek expression across his face.

The impulse to ask 'why' or 'take caution' were set aside at the sight of him and she stepped into his reach. She placed her hands on the sides of his face and brought him closer to her, brought his eyes to stare into hers until they had to close to keep from blurring, brought his mouth to hers for feeling out and touching and tasting and they forgot there was a container between them until it made a knocking noise while Scott brought it back up to keep from dropping.

"Even better," she said low with a smile lengthening.

Without a word Scott glanced down at the container, toward the hall, inside her room and back up with a brightening smile on his face. They should probably not be in the hall. She responded by grabbing his jacket with a firm grip and yanking him into her bedroom.

He tried to be a gentleman and settle the container on the foot of her bed, he even went on to explain how he had run into Lydia and then back-pedaled and started to explain why he turned up at all. Allison nodded along as she helped him out of his coat, as she helped him take a seat as she helped him ruin his hair style for the way she ran her hand through it.

With each attempt at a sentence, she pressed her mouth to his, smiled against his jaw, kissed along his throat, and tugged her teeth at his ear. While they crawled higher along the bed, lightness slowly slipped away and his mouth moved on her collar, as she arched against him, and the container crashed to the floor.

Breathlessly she sat up on his lap to see the noise and Scott jumped to attention as well, she asked "what the hell is that?" Scott laughed and buried his faced against her shoulder.

So, Scott repeated everything he had said earlier, only this time she listened. Without getting off of his lap, without taking her arms from around him, without fixing the thin-straps of her dress, without taking her eyes from penetrating his she listened.

"You left Lydia with my Father?" she looked discomforted but mildly amused. "Well, I am glad you snuck out to see me."

"You know, there was no school today," he replied with a small sly smile.

"So, why did you sneak out to see me?" she quieted than stroked his cheek softly.

"I wasn't sure exactly how things were between us-" he said in a half laugh, embarrassed by how much he wanted to roll over and continue exactly where they had let off.

"Scott," her voice rose in alarm, "I'm with you. What you said, last night about being-"

"I was wrong when I said I was lucky to have you," he failed to catch his words in time for her face react, her brows rose in a perilous arch and mouth twisted high at the corner toward a dimpled warning of his demise. He gapped and laughed and readjusted his grip around her waist, his body in instinctual defense that she might run away.

"-What I mean is-" babbled Scott with bright blinking eyes "I don't see you as just a 'Girlfriend'. And I don't see-" he changed his tone with care to lose laughter and sound kind, "- I don't see a 'Hunter'." When he searched her face again, she looked solemn and soft, his thoughts left him winded and he licked his lips before speaking, "I see you, Allison."

Feeling uncertain, he shied away from following the comment up but the momentum of pheromones and the feel of her eyes on him gave his pause. "I just want you."

At her smirk, he realized the likely definitions of his proclamation, "no, I don't want you!"

"Oh," her lips lengthened to what was definitely defined as a smirk.

"I mean," he let his breath out of mild exasperation, "I do kind of like right now want you, but I also want you because I really love you."

"Listen," she smiled and hit his chest lightly to regain his attention. She swallowed before she spoke, trying to regain her train of thought because honestly, she had no idea what she wanted to say. "I didn't want to fall in love with you, because Hunters are trained to do a lot of things, but not that."

"That's crazy," Scott sniffed back his surprise, he had to look at her again and, in that pause, he kissed her nose because he couldn't imagine it. "How could you train yourselves not to be in love?"

"It's just what we're supposed to do," she tilted her head and softened her gaze on him, "and then I did the craziest thing. I told myself I didn't love you I just wanted to be with you but not just to the end of high school. Not just till college." As she went along her voice turned wistful and she kissed him deeply. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned forward pressing her weight into him and he had to grip her waist to keep from tipping. She felt like she could never stop, like she could live off of him alone but when he moaned against her mouth, she knew they would soon lose not only their breath, but their train of thought if she didn't break away.

"That must have been confusing," Scott sighed.

"Not really," she pressed her forehead to his. "Because Scott, I trusted you." She closed her eyes once more and leaned her head harder still, with the pressure of the anxiety that filled her. With intensity she added, "I trust you. With my heart. With everything."

Cupping her face Scott kissed her once more, with tenderness that grounded her. Afterward she moved to rest her head on his shoulder. They stayed there for a few minutes of calm.

"I trust you, too," he admitted. "Whatever Werewolf-Hunter drama that comes up next, we've got it covered."

At that a downstairs door slammed loudly followed by her Father calling to her because she had a visitor.

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Track 12 - Paper Planes by M.I.A.

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{Early Evening - Stilinski's House, Beacon Garden Community}

"Hey, hey, hey," Stiles called out as he skidded from the front door to the Deputy's cruiser. He knocked on the hood and the driver popped up to alert. "I need you to take me somewhere," he explained as he dove into the passenger side and buckled in.

"This isn't a taxi service," Deputy Clarke rolled her eyes at him.

"No," he grinned. "Because then I would have to pay you. Instead, my tax dollars pay you, so move it," he thwacked the dashboard for emphasis with a rolled-up composition notebook.

She snatched up the notebook and waved it at him in warning, "you don't pay taxes."

"No? So, what's the conflict here?" He struggled around in his seat to face her fully; when he gestured for her to start the vehicle, she thwacked him hard on the hand.

"Stiles, unless there is some sort of emergency, like a fire or something I am not supposed to let you out of the house," she lifted the notebook again and they froze in a stalemate. "Is there an emergency?" he nodded in reply, "well, what's the emergency?"

"There is a fire... in my pants," he said with a cautious stillness. She stared at him waiting for a a crack where he would laugh, instead she broke first.

"What the hell?"

"You have to go take me to see a girl." He made up on the spot, with only his awkward charm to defend him, "I need to see Allison Argent."

"And this can't wait until your Dad gets back?" She groaned tossing his notebook at him.

Stiles fumbled and caught it barely before it hit the floor, "no. Well, maybe but if he says 'yes' it will be after working almost 24-hours straight. I don't want to do that. He's just worried if I leave the house unsupervised, I might get hurt, murdered or worse yet, bring shame to the family name. Now…." His tone turned lascivious, "if you escort me, we can all rest easy. No worries and call it an early night."

"And why can't this wait until tomorrow?" Clarke took a moment to admire the machinations of a pathological 16-year-old.

"Because by then I'dve snuck out anyway, only you would be held accountable. And I like you too much to let that happen," he said sincerely.

"Alright," she said and pursed her lips in consideration as she turned the engine on, "let's entertain this. If I were to take you to the Argent's, aside from emotional blackmail-" then reminded she only found him just-so funny by placing a hand on her hip where her handcuffs were "what is it you want me to tell your Dad?"

"That I asked nicely?" he replied with a smile.

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Track 13 - Don't Lie by Vampire Weekend

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{Back at the Argent's House, 1st Floor Foyer}

Chris Argent felt cheated of nearly every worthwhile Father v. Teenager experience in one evening. The first teenage boy caught lurking around the house wasn't even over his daughter. And was the guy tossed out on his ear? Did Chris even get the chance to passive-aggressively threaten the kid with a Sig Sauer or better yet his Desert Eagle? No. The brat got invited to have dinner and spend the night.

Next up on the disappointment list for the evening, the first time a teenager gets brought home by the cops it's not even his kid. On top of that from the looks of it the kid isn't even remotely distressed. Nope. He seemed perfectly at ease with the officer escorting him to the front door, chummy even.

"Hey, Mr. Argent" he said instead of hello, "is Allison home?"

At the very least he got the right house.

"Yes. Who may I ask is calling?" Chris had an exceptionally good inkling as to who the teen was. He had a similar keen expression to his Dad and quick smile that meant he was on the ball and reading two steps ahead at all times.

"Sheriff's son," he said instead of his name with a nod to the Deputy beside him as a sign of recognition. He smirked as if to articulate without voicing 'isn't it obvious.' "Stiles, pleasure to meet you," he added as a formality and shoved his hand forward.

"You can call me Chris," he answered and nodded to the entourage, "Deputy."

"Sir," she nodded in return.

"Hey," Stiles leaned forward guardedly, "am I safe here?"

That statement felt weighty, and he wanted to answer a million things but felt robbed again of his Fatherly duties.

"Yeah," Chris reluctantly replied.

Stiles swung back around, "see Deputy Clarke. You can tell my Dad I'm totally safe here. Now you can rest safe in the knowledge your duty is done."

He finished his statement as he backed several feet into the foyer to make it as though Chris was now his ally. The Deputy looked to him in pity then shook her head and walked off. And there it was, the third time that evening a kid was put under his roof to safeguard when he still hadn't grounded the first for sneaking out the night before. What's next, an orgy?

"Allison?" he called out slamming the front door closed, "you have a guest!"

The guest paced the foyer as if he were casing it for a heist.

"Another one!" Chris called out more menacing than before.

That got the kids' attention for a hot minute then he blinked back his unease before giving another quirky smile.

"Can I ask why you're here?" Chris crossed his arms and leaned back against the door frame.

"Sure," Stiles responded in earnest as he dropped to make a seat of a hall table.

Chris tried again, "Stiles, why are you here? Visiting my daughter in the middle of the night?"

"It's not that late, is it?" Stiles responded checking the time on his phone, missing the point entirely.

"Stiles," said Chris in a warning tone.

"Oh, right," responded Stiles uneasily, a tone that finally brought pleasure to Chris' ears. "Because after school, detention and everything that happened yesterday- I just wondered how she was doing."

"You could have called," Chris pointed toward the phone still in Stiles' hand.

After gaping at it in betrayal Stiles shoved it in his pocket, "actually I don't have her number."

"But you're close enough to feel like you can just stop in anytime," he stood straighter and pondered exactly how to word that passive-aggressive threat.

"Yeah," answered Stiles, moved back, and stumbled over until he backed beside the stairs. The further Stiles fumbled back the lordlier Chris loomed. "We're totally thick as thieves," insisted Stiles.

"And how's that? Didn't you just get here a few of days ago?" as dim light provided just enough ambience make a giant from Chris', greater powers came into play.

"Stiles, what are you doing here?" and from the study just along the hall beyond the stairwell appeared Lydia Martin.

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Track 14 - Shiver by Coldplay

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Both relief and horror crawled over Stiles' skin at the sight of her. She gave him such a look while she delivered the scrutinizing line. "Stiles, what are you doing here?"

"Lydia?" he hopped up in alarm at the sound of her voice, "what are you doing here?" She crossed her arms waiting for a reply to an inarguable response of 'I asked you first.' "Ah, right. I came to check on Allison. You?" he answered as he wrung the composition notebook in his hands into tube-like pulp.

"Oh," she rolled the thought over in her head, "Allison probably hasn't had time to give you her number yet?" she stepped further into the light giving ease to her overall threatening demeanor, not that there wasn't still an overcast that kept Stiles' on the tips of his high-tops. And she finally answered his original question, "my Mom and I have no hot water in the house so we're staying over."

"Natalie's here! Mrs. M's here..." he corrected with each disapproving glare on Lydia's part, "Mrs. Martin is here."

Mr. Argent cleared his throat to remind there was an actual third and supposedly more formidable presence in the room. At first, they found him more intrusive before they remembered to find him more parentally foreboding.

"Yeah, she introduced me to Allison," grinning, Stiles walked nearer to Lydia until she leaned away to warn off his advance. She would not sink into whatever ditch he would dig for himself. "We're all close now, bosom buddies. Chums, super inseparable."

"You're friends with this guy?" Chris looked to Lydia to confirm. He demanded in the Fatherly voice he had been using on both Stiles and Lydia separately.

Although true, Lydia gave an aggrieved nod in reply without knowing what she walked in on, and she waited to gauge the scene.

"You don't seem very fond of him," continued stepping forward toward Stiles, causing Stiles to make a desperate and ill-fated step toward Lydia.

They glanced toward each other, speaking silent communication; his fight or flight syndrome kicking into high gear, her sarcastic eye roll of 'you have got to be kidding me' down to an art form.

"We haven't exactly been on the best terms lately," she said in a tight voice.

"Actually, did you get my voicemail? I left you a message," said Stiles quickly and Lydia blinked her confusion at his ill-timed confession.

"Stiles, my phone died and-," she snapped at him, "-never mind. Now is not the time for this."

Due to their bickering Chris remembered they weren't his kids and as much as he enjoyed the prospect of being the intrusive protective Father he may have over-stepped. He recanted, "actually, I'm sure you two will work it-"

"Who knows with girlfriends," Stiles dismissed the topic with levity and an easy shrug.

"You're smart Stiles," replied Lydia with an overly sweet voice, and as she faced him, her eyes glared daggers. "Why don't you expand on your worldly knowledge of girlfriends. I can point out your failures, so you'll know better. For your next one, sound good?"

"I thought Isaac is your boyfriend," Chris pointed out.

The color rose in Stiles' face and the look of apology as he stared into Lydia's face couldn't have been more genuine. Although she had never mentioned dating either Stiles or Isaac in front of Mr. Argent, only Jackson (and even that got her the 3rd degree) she couldn't imagine this would get any easier. She breathed in and looked back toward Mr. Argent, her face the placid calm of a saint.

"Yes," she answered without hesitation and tossed her hair over her shoulder. Even being smacked by Lydia's hair didn't wipe the smirk from Stiles' face as he stood tall beside her.

"And Stiles just said he is your boyfriend," Chris clarified, his Fatherly tone returned.

"Yes," Lydia refused to be intimidated, "is there a problem with the math, sir?"

Chris looked to Stiles for a look of shock or jealousy but when there was none. He indeed held an expression of someone that had a problem with math.

"Lydia is dating Stiles?" the question came from the living room. Chris spun around to see the culprit. Though Lydia would never mistake the voice it took Stiles a moment longer to recognize Natalie Martin. Isaac stood beside her, along with a handful of other bystanders inching into the foyer with them, an excitably dog underfoot.

"And of course, Isaac's here. Hanging out with my Mom," with that blithe observation Lydia nodded and gave a small sigh concession that sounded like relief. Isaac and Stiles knew it better for what it was. They knew Lydia had damned them, damned them to the depths of unspeakable hell because they had brought her Mom into the mix. No torture would be painful enough for committing the unforgivable sin of getting her Mom's hopes up and they would never see her revenge coming.

"That's... so good," Natalie put her arms out for Stiles to come into. When he rushed toward them it wasn't just to avoid harassment, it was to wrap himself in one of the most unknowable missed comforts of home. She whispered 'hello' over and over into his ear as if she had years to make up for. When she asked, "where've you been?" she didn't mean the last 6 years, she meant since he'd been home.

"I know, I should have come see you sooner. I've been real busy," he answered honestly.

"Dating Lydia," she looked trusting and emotional. From the clashing smell of the fresh Lavender soap on her hair, skin and fresh layer of red wine Stiles knew she had been handling things as best she could. But given everything, not just the neighborhood blackout but the most harrowing weeks before, she clutched onto what good news she could. "That's amazing, after everything. After your years apart."

"Yeah," he kept her close when he let out of the hug.

Lydia smiled softly in relief that they got along, and all the anger drained from her. Isaac inched toward her, ignoring Mr. Argent's dubious stare. Their hands brushed against each other; he kept it low in case she might want relief from the firm cross-armed shielding she kept up. She unraveled and held onto his wrist, glancing up at him with a look that said 'this is more for your benefit than me' but the grip she held on with said otherwise.

"We," Stiles jabbed a thumb toward Lydia, "have barely been keeping our hands off each other since the moment we first connected. Isn't that right."

"Only literally," after a soft scoff Lydia replied.

"Is this a private party or can anyone join?" Kate asked as she entered via the kitchen, once more with Scott at her side.

.

Track 15 - Ticking Bomb by Aloe Blacc

.

{Argent's House, Back Lawn/Garden-Kitchen Entry}

Werewolves were naturally stealthy creatures. He was meant to be a creature of stealth, but twice in one evening Kate Argent caught Scott creeping across the Argent's property. The first time had been the typical confusing his left from his right scenario. The second time was only after he had made a perfect unnoticed descent from Allison's bedroom window, sprinted across the property, and even managed to quietly get his Mom's car on.

Then for whatever reason he turned on the high-beams. The high-beams! And walking casually across the property, disturbing all of no one had been Kate Argent caught right in his literal headlights.

In perfect reverse of how this scenario normally pans out, he ended up being the one under pressure. She sashayed right up to his driver's side window, leaned in, turned off the car and smiled down at him.

"Should've gotten out of dodge while you had the chance," she grinned then pulled open the door for him to exit and come with her back to the house. She hadn't seen him sneak out of the house but that was hardly the point. His remorseful expression, sulking body-language, and inability to give an excuse to be there read "GUILTY".

Only he felt his stealthiness less in question when they came through the door to a crowd of voices, familiar voices challenging the man of the house. While they had no legitimate stand, he knew those voices and they would rather take on metal traps in a forest again than stand down.

And then another Werewolf got involved so why not more parents to interrogate them?

Kate looked at him from their nook in the doorway of the kitchen with a wicked grin of amusement. Scott shared only pity and his face expressed as much.

"Party-pooper," she muttered dragging him with her into the fray.

"No, no, no, that's not what I meant," he whimpered behind her.

.

"Father," finally Allison trotted down the front stairs in response to her Father's summoning. "W-what is going on down here?" she started to laugh out of nerves but only the Werewolves knew to read it as such, otherwise she looked far beyond amused at the crowd gathered below her.

"Now who is he?" from the crowd spilling over of people from the den into the foyer, Victoria peeked her head over Natalie shoulder and toward the kitchen.

"My ride home," Stiles tried for cover.

"Let me guess," Chris drew a line with his finger through the air between Scott and Lydia, "you're dating that one too?"

"Ew," Lydia's tone went shrill, "no!" Her Mom's and Stiles' negation were similar in kind.

"No way," Isaac refuted in a much more defensive tone, while Allison shared that tone the aim was different. Victoria snorted to keep from laughing and hid it behind an empty glass of wine. Rumy did snort but did not hide it.

Meanwhile Scott's expression turned from shocked to offended to green in a manner of seconds.

"Wait," Bennett asked from further back but only a bit squeezed between the Kate and Scott. "Let me get this straight Chris, you think because she's dating both of 'em if any other guy walks in the room it's safe to assume she's dating them, too?"

"..." Chris replied to a foyer full of stares.

If Lydia's death glare was in itself a Grade-A weapon, it wasn't hard to figure out where she learned to equip it from. After tenderly disengaging from Stiles, Mrs. Martin turned and marched at Mr. Argent at a speed faster than likely. With her shoulder squared, piercing eyes focused with pinpoint accuracy, her severe tone held little wiggle-room for Chris' indecisive muttering.

"Is that what you're saying Chris?" she said firmly.

"Those- Those were not the words I used," Chris stepped back.

"And what if she were?" She took another step forward.

"I am sure he's a great kid-" he edged back into the front door and had run out of carpet.

"He is a great kid. So is she. Who do great things," she stepped back a little bit and looked him up and down. "It takes more than being in the room with them for 2 seconds to figure that out." A yapping Pomeranian agreed with her.

"Like a meal," Victoria offered an olive branch before blood was shed on her hall carpet.

"Am I inviting them to dinner too?" he looked begrudgingly to his wife over everyone's heads.

Victoria shook her head and gave him a reproachful look. "Yes, Chris I think you're sitting down and having dinner with all of us. I think you could use it. That is if you would like to stay?" she looked to the newest attendees.

"Sure," with a desperate look to Allison, to which she shrugged haplessly Scott replied. " I guess I'm going to have to leave my Mom a message." When Stiles gave Scott a worried look, he explained "she's been out of it from too many shifts. She won't notice if I'm gone a little longer."

"Great! A good warm home-cooked meal finally," sighed Stiles and gave Chris a wink for good measure.

"No more of your Dad's gourmet day old pizza take-outs," Isaac's stomach practically grumbled on cue.

"You two get along well. You even eat together at the Sheriff's?" Victoria asked leading them down the hall, passed the kitchenette into the dining area.

"Foster-brothers," Isaac answered, before he thought not to from the glare he saw Stiles give him. It may have been privileged material. Or at least staggered release material for those damn Hunter-Police.

"He's been hanging out with me at my Dad's. Helping me get back into the groove," Stiles answered and anxiously hovered around the table. There were too many seats to choose from and instead he kept circling.

"Is it too private to ask, who started dating Lydia-" she tried to find a better way of wording it, but none came so she left it.

Isaac looked too discomforted to bother assuming but not Stiles. "Does sandbox count? Or like diaper change tables?" he grinned, "now that we're onto more savory subjects, would you like a hand setting the table?"

.

In the Foyer, Natalie came to her daughter's side, where her daughter virtually preened under her Mom's attentions. Allison bound down the last few steps and met them in a buzz of attention.

"I'm sorry about my Father," started Allison.

"Don't be," laughed Lydia. "It's an interesting phenomenon to see an overbearing Dad on the greyer-side of the grass."

"Lydia, don't be like that," her Mom wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Although still a little upset, she seemed, of late, to be quick to switch between her Anti-Dad and Pro-Dad views. "They're trying," she tried the line again with a different and more sincere delivery. "They're trying their best."

"Whatever," Lydia grinned, "at least Scott can stay for dinner." She playfully poked at Allison in the arm, teasing her best-friend... along with her other best-friend, Scott. It would take her sometime to get used to acknowledging him as that.

"Yeah, and now so can Stiles," smirked Allison with brows pinched in artfully cruel delight.

"Ohh," groaned Lydia, stopping just short of swearing with the sound of her Mom cooing beside her.

"Ooh, the two of you. How did that happen?" she smiled at Lydia. She beamed with such brightness Lydia forgot how to lie. Instead, she reached down and picked up her puppy and soothed him to silence.

"Very suddenly," she cleared her throat and looked away.

"Very organically," said Scott from just over her left shoulder. Coming to her rescue like a new best-friend would.

That ladies and gentlemen would be why she'd get used to his renewed title.

"Can I hang out with you guys?" asked Scott, he squeezed himself into a small space between Allison and Lydia where a piece of banister remained for him to lean his chin on. "I promise to stay on this side of the bars."

The girls groaned at his lame joke and Mrs. Martin only pursed her lips. "Oh Scott, Mr. Argent had no right to disrespect you."

"Mrs. Martin, I know he didn't mean to. I say stupid things that make people feel uncomfortable all the time without meaning to," he shrugged and tapped his fingers on the banister just under his chin which gave him the deceptive look of innocence of a woodland creature. "I can't unsay it. I can only apologize for all those times I told Stiles you were the most beautiful Mom and wished Mr. Martin would go away so I could be the new Mr. Martin."

"Scott! What the hell!" Lydia groaned, reached over, and smacked him hard in the arm.

"Ow! What?!" he rubbed the nonexistent wound woefully, "Why're you hitting me? Stiles said the same thing!"

With Allison red-faced, her hands over her mouth and Mrs. Martin laughing outright, their small corner had turned into a mess of giggles and fisticuffs. After a moment, Allison urged them on into the dining area.

.

As she passed by her Father, Allison aimed a glare.

"Father, it is one thing to embarrass me, but you insulted my friends," Allison emphasized, in a low fury, "My friends! I don't get very many of those-"

"What are you talking about? There is Roman and-" he tried to defend.

"Don't," her eyes went wide in upset, "don't. You came to Beacon Hills. You know what this is like. Am I screwing up in school?"

"No," he closed his eyes and let out a breath. It took all his willpower to stop himself before he followed the comment up with the word 'BUT.'

"Am I screwing up my field work? My participation in meetings?" she pleaded.

"No," he conceded a little shown up.

"Then don't be the thing that keeps me from having friends in high school?" she smiled a little, "just learn some 'Bad Dad Jokes' instead, okay?" she kissed his cheek and went off to the dinner table.

.

"This is gonna be the most awkward meal- no, wait second most awkward meal I've ever seen," after lingering in the hallway between rooms, Kate returned to Chris in the foyer. Visions of 24-Hour Diner with many of the same dining guests replayed freshly in her mind's eye. "It is going to be a train wreck!" Kate laughed and waggled a finger at him.

"I know," Chris grinned at his sister, "and you're staying for it."

"What?" she clutched her chest in mock-horror "No, no. I came back to the house to bring you to the Lodge," Kate argued and aimed for the front door. "If you're not coming then I've got work to finish."

"And I'm sitting down for a family dinner, which you will be joining. Get your ass in there," he shoved her around and down the hall but then quickly turned back. "Not you. The both of you have caused enough trouble this evening."

Bennett looked terribly disappointed because he'd been looking forward to being a fly on the wall and Rumy had a stiffness to his expression, like he would break into giggles at any moment or maybe burp.

"Immediate. Family. Only," Chris ordered the both of them out through the front door. At that comment they both started protesting. "Now take the long way around the garage to the Lodge and set up your quarters, you clowns."

"Bad form!" yelled Rumy funneled through cupped hands. "Tell everyone I'll miss them terribly."

After the door closed, Rumy and Bennett made it partly toward the garage before Rumy doubled back up the step and rang the doorbell ragged.

"What is it you old drunk?" laughed Chris opening the door just a crack.

"You may not have said that little girl was a 'you-know-what' but you did imply it. Just letting you know," he whispered grinning through.

They looked at each other, the grey-eyed punk as sober as a skunk and his blue-eyed best-friend lost without him. Rumy didn't have to say the words, 'what if someone said that to Allison?'

"I know, I know," sighed Chris and rubbed at his jaw, "this is why you're the backseat driver."

"Get outta here," Rumy stepped agilely back off from the front stoop and called to him in a horrid 'Don Corleone' impersonation- "A man who doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man."

Chris slammed the door before he finished the Godfather impersonation.

---

Playlist Available: 8tracksDOTcom / bhanesidhe / 14-were-you-inside

Playlist: transferred to youtubeDOTcom / bhanesidhe / playlist