I Don't Want to Be a Star, I Want to Be the Sun
Summary: In which an ambitious assassin is placed in the body of the strawberry blonde goddess herself and proceeds to wreck canon. Peter/Lydia
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or anything else mentioned in this. None of it is mine.
Warnings: Profanity, Violence
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Chapter 2: I Prefer Proactive Over Reactive
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The next morning, Lydia is much calmer.
She spends the rest of the night researching the past events of the last few months, digging around in a little bit of everything.
Her hacking skills are rusty but it's easy to brush up on them as she hacks the Sheriff's Department, downloading files that catch her attention and exiting without a trace of her ever being there.
A month ago, half a dozen deaths were declared to be the fault of Kate Argent, who was found dead in the ruins of the Hale House.
Lydia has to admire a smooth frame job and that's an excellent example of one.
In truth, the deaths are all done by Peter Hale, who is still marked as missing from the hospital.
Gathering this information, Lydia builds an immediate plan of action.
She's reasonable enough to know that she's not going to be returning to her original world or identity any time soon, if ever.
There's not a body to return to, she admits, or at least not a living one.
Therefore, the only course of action is to accept her new identity and run with it.
She makes a quick list on her laptop, marking Peter as her highest priority, followed by Gerard.
While Gerard is most definitely an enemy, seeing as the man has no problem at all torturing teenagers, Peter is a wildcard.
She would prefer him to be an ally over an enemy.
His intelligence and utter ruthlessness when crossed are only two of his best qualities, in her opinion.
It's a toss up on whether he'll actually work with her or not.
Rationally, she's aware that she's going to have to play nice with the huntress as well.
Allison is an asset, with the connections her family has to have and the knowledge that can be gained.
Lydia isn't thrilled to be working with her but she knows it's a necessity for the moment.
By the time it's time to go to school, Lydia has packed her handbag with the textbooks and notebooks needed for the day, as well as gotten dressed.
She dresses to impress, knowing clothes are a form of armor.
A deep burgundy little dress that clings to her curves and ends at mid-thigh, a light brown leather jacket, and black velvet pumps are what she chooses, with a silver necklace that dangles to her middle and the bare necessities of makeup (foundation, eyeshadow, eyes liner, mascara, and lip gloss).
Once her appearance is dealt with and her bag is packed, she heads downstairs to find a note left on the refrigerator from her mother, who apologizes for not being there and claims she's at a meeting.
Lydia isn't bothered by it. She didn't really feel like socializing with the woman anyway.
All of her focus is on what will happen at school.
Taking the cute little blue car that matches her car keys, Lydia drives to the school and parks in the front next to a beat-up blue Jeep.
Stiles is in the driver's seat, scrolling on his phone, not noticing her arrival.
She steps out of the car and swings it closed behind her as she moves over to the Jeep, knocking on the window.
"Holy-!" He flails around wildly, rolling down the window to talk. "Why good morning, Lydia, the strawberry blonde goddess herself."
"Good morning, Stiles," she smiles, amused at the way he's awkwardly leaning on his elbow, trying to pull off casual. "Seeing as you're the only person I even vaguely know, will you walk me to class?"
"Of course!" He fumbles to roll up his window and get out of the Jeep, hiking his bag higher on his shoulder. "How'd you get here anyway if you don't remember?"
"I found the yearbook and a picture of me and a blonde guy in front of the school sign," Lydia nods to the sign as they pass it, making a mental note to explore the Hale Vault at the earliest convenience.
Stiles makes a face, sighing. "That would be Jackson Whittemore. The two of you were the power couple of Beacon Hills High until…"
He trails off, suddenly hesitant, and she rolls her eyes, prodding.
"Until what, Stiles?"
"He broke up with you and you went to the dance with me," he shrugs, apologetic. "Though I have no earthly idea why…"
He trails off as they pass through the double doors into the school, halting just inside.
A large crowd of teenagers fill the hall and all of them are eyeing the newcomers with suspicion and confusion.
Lydia smirks, proud and steady as she flips a wave of perfect curls over her shoulder.
"Perhaps he finally realizes that I'm entirely out of his league," she glances back at Stiles, moving to hook their arms together loosely. "Come on, we've got things to learn, people to see."
Reliving highschool isn't something she's thrilled to be doing but it's painfully easy to slide through classes.
She shares most of her classes with Scott and Stiles, as well as Allison.
Playing nice with the huntress yields surprising results.
The girl is unexpectedly kind about her return to the world of normal and Lydia isn't sure how to deal with that.
She maintains a carefully crafted mask of friendliness as she interacts with the younger girl. It's better to be safe than sorry after all.
It's surprising to see how many of the main characters are in classes with her.
Erica and Isaac are both in her Chemistry class, as well as Allison, Stiles, and Scott, while Boyd is in her History. She shares Economics with the main trio too.
Matt, the little creep, is in her English class.
Lydia may not like Allison's character but she's of the opinion that no one deserves to be treated like that, no matter who they are.
Also, in the original timeline she remembers, he threatens Stiles and the Sheriff.
Lydia can't let that happen again.
It's the least she can do for the first two people to reach out to her when they found her.
The biggest reason that Matt was a threat in the first place was his connection to the Kanima.
Therefore, Lydia needs to take that connection away.
A plan unfolds in her mind, calculating what steps need to be taken in order to receive the outcome she wants.
When classes finally finish, she makes a bee-line for Jackson, the blonde-haired blue-eyed boy who was in that picture.
She finds him at his locker, gathering his stuff for lacrosse practice.
"Jackson, we need to talk," she leans against the locker beside his, noticing his eye roll at her presence. "Look, I'm not looking to hook up with you again or whatever. I just wanted to thank you for getting me off that field. If it hadn't been for you, I probably would have died."
"Lydia, we're not getting back together," he laughs mockingly, gesturing between them. "And just because I kept you from bleeding out on the field once, don't expect me to come running every time you start screaming. I'm not responsible for you. Okay?"
Lydia waits patiently for him to finish, raising an eyebrow. "Are you done now? Got that out of your system? Good, it's nice to get that off your chest."
He reddens and opens his mouth to protest but she doesn't give him a chance to, bulldozing over him.
"Let's get this straight. Honestly, I woke up in the hospital with amnesia. I don't remember anything that happened before I stepped out of the woods after my two day stroll of madness," she states bluntly, seeing his irritation morph into badly hidden concern. "I don't know what went on between us. All I know is we were together and I'm sure we were happy at least once, judging by the pictures on my vanity."
"We were once," he admits quietly after a long moment, eyes taking her in carefully.
"I'm not looking for a relationship at the moment," she continues, deciding to be honest. "I don't even know who I am so figuring that out is my top priority at the moment. I figured, since we apparently spent so much time together, you know me better than I do. I was hoping we could talk about it."
It's quiet between them as the silence stretches.
"You really don't remember?"
"No," she shakes her head, wrapping her arms around herself tight. "I don't remember anything. What…what happened to me out on that field? Why does my side look like something took a bite out of it?"
Jackson nods, seeming to come to a decision. "Come over tonight."
The abrupt demand makes her blink and smirk playfully as he flushes, realizing just how that sounded.
"You know what I mean," he snaps, huffing angrily at her smirk. "Do you want your answers or not?"
Smirk fading, Lydia nods in agreement, putting aside the desire to tease him for now.
"I have lacrosse practice but after, I'll take you to my house and we can talk," Jackson shakes his head and starts to leave, turning to stress out. "Just talk."
Amused, Lydia nods and watches him swagger off.
While he's in lacrosse practice, she struts off to the basement, where she quickly finds the Triskele design carved into the wall. It's faint but noticeable for those who know what they're looking for.
She runs her hands lightly across the wall, knowing that there has to be a trigger to the lock mechanism somewhere.
From what she recalls, the vault can only be unlocked by the claws of a Hale werewolf. But there were humans in the Hale Pack, her mind points out, humans that most likely knew to hide here in the worst case scenario.
With the werewolves on the frontlines defending their more fragile pack mates, there has to be a way for a human to unlock the vault.
Her nails scrape against the wall as she pushes her hand between the shelf next to the symbol and the wall, fingers wrapping around a metal bar of some sort.
Lips curving into a victorious smile, Lydia tugs on the bar and twists it in a circle, watching as the vault door slides open for the first time in years.
Her heels click on the stone floor as she steps inside, hearing the door grind as it closes behind her.
Lydia takes in the vault appraisingly.
It's big, spacious enough for easily a dozen people to fit comfortably. Metal shelves line the walls, filled with jars, boxes of varying shapes and sizes, and much more.
Her eyes linger on the far wall, glued to a set of daggers that are calling her name.
"Well, aren't you beautiful?" She purrs in appreciation as she strides closer, picking up the daggers from the bed of crushed velvet they lay within.
Upon close examination, they have a similar design to karambits, curved blades with finger holes at the ends.
She holds them curiously, testing the weight in her hands, before spinning them slowly around her fingers.
The blades spin smoothly as her hands follow the movement automatically.
It's not muscle memory but something else.
These hands haven't held a blade before with any intent other than preparing food. Haven't grown the callouses from hours of practice.
As if hearing her thoughts, her left hand fumbles and the blade slices into her index finger.
A Russian curse leaves her mouth as she tucks the daggers in her handbag, slipping her finger in her mouth to stop the bleeding as well as she can.
The heavy iron taste is familiar on her tongue and she hums, scanning the shelves in interest.
Her eyes scan over a stack of books on one of the shelves, lingering on the title on the spine of an old leather tome.
Where Life Meets Death: The Journal of a Banshee
Grabbing it, she tucks it into her bag alongside the daggers, doing a brief sweep for anything else that catches her eyes.
She doesn't find anything else that draws her immediate attention so she leaves the vault, knowing that she can return at any point.
For the rest of lacrosse practice, Lydia scrolls through her phone and makes a mental checklist of things she needs to get her hands on as fast as possible, whether legally or illegally.
A few varying strands of wolfsbane would be helpful, as would mountain ash. Mistletoe would be beneficial too. Not only is it a poison to werewolves, it's a weakness of the Darach as well.
She has no intention of allowing Blake-Bacari-whatever her name is- the chance to even start the Five-Fold Knot ritual.
She prefers to be proactive over reactive.
If the Darach shows her face in Beacon Hills, Lydia isn't going to waste time trying to bargain and will snag the nearest weapon to deal with the problem.
Luckily, she already knows where she can get most of those supplies.