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Truth be told, Lydia was getting pretty sick of these pack meetings. Every week it was the same: they’d all come up with an idiotic plan, that she would have to follow along with and try not to get herself killed in the process, while she sat there awkwardly trying not to feel like a fifth wheel (even if Derek was there, but he didn’t count). She hated pack meetings because each gathering just reminded her how Allison was gone, and with her, Lydia’s link to the pack. At first the girl thought that she’d be fine; she was Stiles’ emotional tether, that in itself was a link to the pack, but then Malia came along all bushy tailed, bright eyed and a tendency to strip when she felt like it, leaving Lydia sitting alone on the side-lines; hell, at this point not only did she miss Allison but she missed Cora. Erica too. All she wanted was someone to talk to, someone who would be able to help her get through having to watch the pair of them together, and make her not feel like her heart was on fire and that she was going to die (because she was a strong, independent young woman, who’s very existence did not depend on a boy, even if deep down she was a little bit sure that her life just might depend on Stiles Stilinski even if it pained her to admit it); because she understands now. She understands what Allison was talking about; all of those times in school when she sees him standing down the hall and she can’t breathe until she’s with him. Or those times in class when she can't stop looking at the clock because she knows that he's standing right out there waiting for her; Lydia knows what it feels like, even more so now that it’s been taken away from her, by a coyote nonetheless. Kira tried, bless her heart, to include Lydia but most of the time she was a bit preoccupied with a certain Alpha, not that Lydia blamed her. All of this meant that Lydia Martin was at her breaking point, and this pack meeting was it.
“Kira, you and me will head in first, clear as much of them as we can,” As Kira nodded Scott smiled, then moved on, “Stiles, Lydia, you two know what we’re looking for so you’ll follow us; Lydia, as soon as you’ve got it, we’ll need you to translate as you go okay? Stiles, me and Kira will provide as much cover as we can but I need you to keep Lydia safe.”
“But what about Malia, I should – ”
“Oh my god.” The words left her mouth with a sigh of disbelief; he couldn’t be serious. Lydia stood up from her chair, spinning round to look down at Stiles, “You’re kidding me right? You can’t be serious – I…I can’t – I can’t do this.” She scoffed, shaking her head before she all but ran through the loft, not quite knowing where she was going but just knowing that she had to get out of there; that’s how she finds herself, palms against the cold concrete of the walls of a room that she thinks must have been Cora’s, trying to breathe normally. It’s silent apart from the sound of her harsh breathing until she hears the door open, then close as footsteps approach her.
“I’m fine Scott…I’ll be fine.”
“It’s not Scott.”
She shuts her eyes, leaning her head against the wall; of course it would be Stiles, it always was; but she doesn’t let herself hope that he’d come after her of his own volition, knowing the way he treated her now, Scott had probably sent him after her.
“What do you want?” She asks coldly, still not looking at him, “Well it would be nice if you could look at me.” She scoffs, rolling her eyes but turns to look at him anyway, “Was that all you wanted?” Her tone is harsh and sarcastic, and only serves to make Stiles look confused. “Look I know I was being stupid back in there, but it’s just that all of this is so new to Malia – ”
“The girl has fucking claws and superhuman healing, Stiles I’m sure she’ll be fine.” He finally flinches slightly at her words, but carries on, determined, “It’s not that I worry about her safety, I worry about everyone else’s; you heard her back in Mexico, she’d leave us for dead.” Lydia gives a small bitter laugh, “She’d leave everyone else for dead; she’d ‘never leave without you’.” Lydia wants to say that she regrets the mocking lilt that her voice takes but then she’d be lying.
“But I wouldn’t leave you – or Scott or Kira!” Lydia pretends that her heart doesn’t skip a beat at his words; that he’d never leave without her, and tries to make her way past Stiles to the door behind him. “Good to know.” She says sarcasm thick in her voice as she passes him, but he grabs her wrist and spins her round to face him, “Okay what the hell is your problem Lydia?”
“Nothing.” She says through gritted teeth, trying not to acknowledge the flicker of hurt that seemingly passes through Stiles’ eyes before they harden, “Lydia enough with the bullshit, what’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? What do you mean? Why am I not acting like your feral girlfriend isn’t a wonderful new addition to the pack? Why am I annoyed at the fact that you’re so willing to cover for her and her violent tendencies that you would leave me alone and defenceless in a situation where there is a very real possibility that I could die?”
Stiles stutters for a moment as she pulls away from him angrily, but recovers before she can leave,
“Why don’t you like Malia?”
This stops her in her tracks, she frowns at him slightly, “Don’t like her? I hate her. I hate Malia – I hate your girlfriend Stiles. I hate her because sometimes I wish we’d never helped her, because maybe then you wouldn’t have let the Nogitsune take over to save her life in Eichen House, and then maybe we wouldn’t have had to separate you from him like that, and maybe I wouldn’t have been taken, and maybe then Allison would still be alive, but the world isn’t a wish-granting factory,” She pauses only to wipe unwanted tears from her eyes, “I hate her because she calls me weak without knowing half the shit that I’ve had to go through, most of it because of her freaking father! I hate her because she makes me feel weak, and you don’t bother to correct her, you don’t even try to make me feel strong anymore. I hate her because she gets everything: she gets help, and a best friend, and a family, and she gets you, Stiles. I hate her because I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you so much that it hurts. And I know this has to be karma punishing me for being a bitch to you for all those years, I know it’s universe telling me that I don’t deserve you –” He cuts her off with his lips; she freezes for a moment before she sighs into his mouth, her brain telling her that she probably won’t get another chance to kiss him anytime soon so make the most of it. She clutches at his shirt desperately trying to pull him closer, as his hands wind into her hair, caress her cheek, one of his arms moving to wind round her waist and she’s sure that he’s the only thing keeping her upright. They kiss for what feels like both years and seconds all in one, and she doesn’t want to let him go because in this moment he is hers and she is his, and she can pretend that this is real; that there isn’t coyote sitting outside who is very much his girlfriend. But Stiles pulls away, and the absence of his lips and warmth cause her to open her eyes, “Shit.” He runs a hand through his hair frowning, “Shit, Lydia I’m sorry –”
“Don’t. Don’t apologise.”
She can’t look at him, she doesn’t want to see the pity, the regret, that she knows will undoubtedly be in his eyes. She runs past him, tears streaming down her face, she runs past the pack, ignoring the calls of her name, Stiles’ voice cutting through everyone else’s. She only stops running when she reaches the street and as the rain falls down hard around her, Lydia realises that she doesn’t care anymore; she doesn’t care that her clothes are getting soaked, or that her mascara is undoubtedly running down her face. She just can’t do it anymore, she can’t live like this; she’s lonely and she misses Allison, she misses her best friend, but most of all she misses her Stiles. She feels like she’s floating, as though that last thing that kept her tethered to this world was gone, so she gives in; she gives in to the darkness till it surrounds her and is all she knows.
Stiles stops in his pursuit of Lydia, dropping to his knees in the middle of the loft, clutching at his chest, “Stiles? What’s wrong?” He hears Scott beside him, but he can barely breathe, “Is it a panic attack? Stiles?” He shakes his head trying to force out the words, “I – I don’t know, something’s wrong, get Deaton.” Scott looks at him with a frown of confusion but nods anyway. The pain has barely lessened by the time Deaton arrives but he’s not on the floor anymore so he counts that as a good thing.
“It’s like something’s wrapped too tight around my chest,” He answers when Deaton asks to describe what’s wrong, “Like when you wrap string around your hand and someone yanks on the other end.” Deaton sighs like he might know exactly what is happening, “What? Was that a I-know-exactly-what’s-wrong-and-I-can-fix-it or a I-have-no-clue-what’s-happening-and-you-might-die sigh –” Stiles breaks off with a gasp as the pressure lifts and he’s suddenly left with an intense feeling of loss, “It’s gone, she’s gone – she’s gone.” Deaton frowns and pulls Stiles’ attention back to him, “Who’s gone Stiles? Who’s she?” Stiles looks up at Scott because he’s the only person who will know how he feels at this moment, because he understands now, “Lydia’s gone.”
Stiles wanders through the school hallways the next day like a ghost; neither Scott, Deaton or his dad would let him search for Lydia the night before, but his dad had told him that as soon as he had any news about whether she really was missing or not, he would let him know, before kicking him out of the house to go to school. He pretends he doesn’t hear Scott and Kira whispering about him, until the moment they aren’t,
“Did you see Lydia?”
“I know, we need to talk to her – ”
“Lydia’s here?” He asks trying not to sound too desperate, Scott sighs, “Yeah, but she’s not quite herself.” Stiles frowned, “What do you mean she’s not quite herself?” He doesn’t mean for his voice to have a hard edge but it does, causing Scott to hide a small flinch “She’s just…not. We’re gonna go talk to her ask what’s going on –” “I’m coming with you.” Scott sighed again and tried to reason with him, “Look Stiles I’m not sure that’s the best idea – ”
“I don’t care I’m coming with you.”
“If he’s going then so am I.” Everyone tenses at the sound of Malia’s voice, if it wasn’t such a good idea Stiles being there to talk to Lydia then it definitely wasn’t a good idea for her to be there, everyone had heard the argument between Stiles and Lydia that night. “Really Malia I don’t think –” Scott and Stiles both started, “I don’t care, I’m part of this pack so I’m coming with you.” Stiles ran a hand through his hair in frustration, “Sure, fine, whatever, let’s just go find Lydia.”
They find her waiting for them in an empty science lab, dressed in all black, save for the red lipstick on her lips. When he sees her, Stiles’ breath hitches, not only in relief at the sight of her being safe, but also at her beauty: the black contrasting her pale porcelain skin beautifully, the silky black material of her short skirt drawing attention to her long legs, the darkness making the red of her hair and the green of her eyes stand out.
“How long were you going to keep me waiting?”
She says the words to all of them but her eyes remain on Stiles. “Lydia –” Scott starts before she interrupts him with a hiss of breath, “I’m not Lydia.” This throws them all, “What?” Scott asks frowning; she shrugs before she answers him, “I am not Lydia.” She says slowly as though she were talking to a child, “Well then who are you?” Stiles finds himself asking, his eyes not leaving hers. She smirks at him, “I like to be called Banshee.” He grits his teeth at the playful tone in her voice, “Where’s Lydia?” She rolls her eyes at him, “Oh don’t worry Romeo, she’s in here.” She says tapping her fingers against her temple. “So this is a Jean Grey and Phoenix situation?” She laughs at his question, clapping her hands in glee, “Yes! An X-Men reference, we’ve been waiting for one – she let me call myself Banshee because she knows that was your favourite character in that film you watched together.” Stiles is finding his patience wearing thin with the girl, “Cut the crap, what do you want?” She raises an eyebrow at him as she hops off the counter she was sat on and step towards him, “Oh you think that I took over Lydia’s body by force? No, no, no she yielded to me, she let me take over – said she couldn’t take it anymore, everything hurt too much – you should have heard her, really she lived up to the wailing woman title, crying that she missed her best friend, that she missed you Stiles, that she felt as though she’d lost her tether.” The words cut through him, but before he can say anything, she continues, “Oh please be quiet Lydia, really, stop shouting.” The girl ignores the groups questioning looks at the conversation she was having with herself, “You see, you all wanted Lydia’s powers for yourselves but you weren’t willing to help her master them, this left her clueless and alone with hundreds of whispering spirits in her head day and night, and let’s not forget me: a physical manifestation of her powers all because you couldn’t help her harness them.” She stops for a moment, looking at each of them in turn, “You’ve all thought her to be useless and weak, but finding dead bodies and screaming isn’t the only thing our little Lydia can do; we can channel our scream, channel that power and,” She reaches out and touches one of the Pyrex glass beakers on the desk and it shatters, littering the table with thousands of shards, “Poof.” She says smiling to herself slightly. She looks up at them, walking slowly, like a predator to its prey, “Now I wonder what would happen if…” She trails off as she comes closer to Stiles, her fingertips dancing towards his throat. It’s at this point that Malia goes to attack her, and Lydia, no Banshee, spins round and places a simple touch to the girl’s chest, which leaves her writhing on the floor. “What did you do?” Scott asks, kneeling with Kira beside Malia, as Stiles stares at her in shock, “Nothing much, shattered a few bones, liquefied a few minor organs…” She waves her hand in a gesture of nonchalance as she says all of this, never taking her eyes off of Stiles, “You really don’t seemed too concerned there, Stiles, considering you’re her boyfriend.” Her hand trails up his throat to rest on his cheek, she smiles impressed that even after her display of power he doesn’t flinch away from her touch, “See Lydia? I’m not hurting him.” She takes her hand away as she mutters quietly to him, “I can see why she likes you.” She goes to leave the room but pauses in the doorway, she speaks but she doesn’t face the group, “I hope you realise now that Lydia is more powerful than all of you – I am more powerful than all of you, so don’t you dare ever think of her as weak again. You are just a bunch of pathetic shape shifters and a human – I really don’t see why she so desperately wanted to be a part of your pack.” And with this she leaves, her red hair and black skirt swishing as she does.
They go to Deaton first, who seems unsurprised at the news “I feared this could happen –”
“But you didn’t feel the need to warn us?”
Deaton doesn’t answer the boy, but rather just gives him a look, “Sorry,” Stiles apologises, running a hand through his hair, “Just – what about – what about the tether?” This is what he really wants to know about, “Well you said that this Banshee was talking to Lydia?” He nods and Deaton frowns thoughtfully, “Well then there’s a strong possibility that you are still connected to Lydia, but you aren’t connected to Banshee; I believe Lydia may have experienced something similar when you were possessed by the Nogitsune.” Stiles looks down, guilt settling in his stomach, he’d never thought about what kind of strain his possession may have had on her, if the dull pain in his chest was any indication. “So how to we get Lydia back?” It’s Kira who speaks this time; Deaton frowns and gives a half shrug as he answers, “Well the Banshee isn’t exactly a new development, Morrell told me that during some of her sessions with Lydia she wasn’t always herself, especially after the attack; she’d refer to herself in the third person, sometimes she wouldn’t remember previous sessions; it happened less frequently around everything that happened with Jennifer Blake, her drawing of the Nematon must have been an outlet for the Banshee as Lydia gained more control, then after everything that happened the day of the sacrifices, Banshee seemingly disappeared…until recently.” Everyone tries to ignore the fact that Deaton’s gaze flickers to Malia before turning to settle on Stiles. Scott’s voice cuts through the tense silence, “But everything will be fine, yeah? All we have to do is come up with a plan.”
Pack Meeting. Now.
The noise of Scott’s phone shocks everyone, but whom the text message is from shocks everyone even more.
“You called? – Well I mean you texted…” Scott’s voice trails off as they enter the loft to the sight of Lydia, no Banshee, sitting at the coffee table, Derek next to her smirking slightly, while Peter convulsed on the floor. “What happened?” Derek snorts in response, “She came in, told me to call a pack meeting, Peter tried to talk to her, she grabbed his throat and now he’s like this.” Both Stiles and Scott stared at the man with eyebrows raised at his apparent joy at seeing his uncle lying on the ground moaning pathetically, “So you didn’t stop to think that maybe that isn’t Lydia?” Stiles asks whilst trying not to flinch at the glare he gets from the girl. Derek shrugged, “I figured that she wasn’t quite right but anyone who can floor Peter with one touch is welcome in my loft.”
“What are you doing here?” Malia growls at Banshee, who merely stares back at her highly unimpressed in response, “Lydia was whining – yes you were whining,” she pauses for a moment before sighing and continuing, “Okay she wasn’t whining but merely sharing the fact, repeatedly and very loudly, that we’re pack and that means that I’m part of your little group whether you like it or not,” she sighs very loudly as she says the next part, “And that also means that I can’t hurt any of you. Well,” She glares back at Malia, “Most of you anyway, Lydia says that I have to keep the maiming to a minimum because she’s a spoilsport.” Stiles tries to hold back a laugh of disbelief at the petulant tone Lydia’s voice takes on, but the noise that escapes him only serves to make Malia switch her glare from Banshee on to him. Which then earns a light giggle from Banshee, “Trouble in paradise I see?” Malia growls at her some more but Banshee merely waves her off with her hand, which much to her delight, causes the coyote to flinch back at the idea of accidentally touching her. “Glad to see you did learn something from our little meeting today.” Banshee says with a smirk, “You called a pack meeting, here we are, now what do you want?” Scott asks the girl wearing his friend’s face, she shrugs, “Nothing much, just that you’ll want my help going up against Kate and her band of skin-walkers and berserkers.” Then she leaves the loft with a wave and wink at Stiles. “I need to do research.” Stiles says before he leaves the group without another look at anyone. He finds himself sitting in his jeep for a moment, the events of the day finally catching up with him: Lydia wasn’t Lydia anymore and it was his fault. The words went round and round his head until he felt like he couldn’t breathe; what was happening to Lydia was all his fault, she had needed him and he’d been too wrapped up in himself and Malia that he hadn’t noticed, and now she was trapped inside her own head because she’d given up. He slammed a fist against his steering wheel, forcing himself to focus and drive home; he had to find a way to get Lydia back in control of her body, he had to.
Stiles stays up all night, completely ignoring Malia when she climbs in through his window and tries to get his attention, his mind completely devoted to helping Lydia; it’s just after dawn when he thinks he’s found a solution.
“Foxglove?”
“Yes Scott, Foxglove.” Scott frowns at his best friend, “Are you sure? Doesn’t that kill you if you use too much of it?” Stiles waves him off, gesturing wildly with his explanation, “But it also heals, I was thinking that with the right dose we could both heal Lydia and poison Banshee.” Scott looks doubtful, but Stiles interrupts him before he can say anything, “Look maybe it’s same as when I was possessed by the Nogitsune, Deaton used that lichen to let me get back into control for a while. “ Scott shrugs, “Okay but I think we should go see Deaton before we do anything.” Stiles nods as Scott grabs him by the shoulders, “Everything’s gonna be okay, we’ll get her back.”
Banshee’s minding her own business, lounging by Lydia’s locker snapping occasionally at passers by (case in point: some girl comes up to her, “Nice outfit Lydia, who died?” To which she replied, “Your aunt.” She’s not lying, and she smiles to herself as she hears the girl’s phone ring, then her surprised tears as she hears the news when she walks away); when Kira approaches her, “Banshee? – ”
“You can call me Lydia, Kira, we’re at school.” She smiles at the Kitsune’s nervous demeanour, “Okay, umm, Lydia I was wondering whether you would like to hang out today? I mean it’s just that I get that the reason you’re here in the first place is because Lydia-Lydia felt alone, so why should we do that to you? –”
“It’s okay Kira, I would love to hang out with you.” Kira’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, “Cool, uh I was wondering, why do you only wear black?” Banshee smiled ruefully at the girl, “Well death happens to me everyday so I thought that I might as well always be ready for a funeral,” She shrugs, looking down slightly as she continues, “Being ready for death makes us feel less helpless about it, really.” Kira smiles softly at her, nodding in acceptance, “Um well we’ve got History now, do you want to sit next to me?” Banshee laughs slightly at the adorable girl but nods, “Kira I haven’t lived as a wild animal for half my life, I’m still as smart as Lydia.” Kira smirks, “Wow you really don’t like Malia do you?” Banshee raised an eyebrow, “Oh gee is it that obvious?” Her dry tone causes the other girl to laugh. Banshee decides that she likes Kira, that, while no one can replace Allison as Lydia’s best friend, Kira is a suitable alternative.
Stiles doesn’t speak to her until after they’ve had three classes together, “You know if you keep it up people are bound to notice that something’s different.” He says from behind her as she stands in front of her locker, hinting at the fact that rather than hide her intelligence she’s showing it off, she turns to face him with eyebrow raised and a smirk in place, “Oh like the black wouldn’t have raised flags already? Besides Danny already complimented me on my new look, and it doesn’t matter anymore anyway, I’m not the same girl from a few years ago, neither is Lydia.” He shakes his head smiling, “She’s not is she?” Unconsciously his hand drifts up to her cheek, “You’re exactly like her sometimes, I forget…” She smiles sympathetically at him, “I am her, just not the her you want – I’m sorry can you step back a bit?” He frowns at her but complies, “God even when you’re not in control of your body?” She mumbles to herself before she addresses him again, “Sorry it’s just that when you’re too close her heart beats so goddamn loud.” Stiles blinks at her in surprise before blushing slightly, “Wait so are you – you know –”
“In love with you too?” Banshee finishes bluntly for him; he nods jerkily at her, “Attracted? Yes, possibly, in love…I don’t know, everything’s so confusing for Lydia, which makes it confusing for me. Just like how you’re tethered to her but I have nothing holding me back.” She shuts her locker as she finishes and walks away, leaving him to stare at her retreating back. “What did you do this time Stilinski?” He hears Danny ask him, he sighs and rolls his eyes in annoyance, “I didn’t do – what do you mean this time?” Danny merely raises his eyebrows at him, waiting a moment before he responds, “I’ve seen the way she looks at you when she thinks no one’s watching, I don’t know how you didn’t guess cause it’s been going on for a while now.” Stiles frowns at this, “What? What do you mean?” Danny shakes his head, yelling “Figure it out, Stilinski!” as he walks away. Stiles slams his fist against a locker, her locker, in frustration, she’d already told him that she loved him, what else did he have to figure out?
They’re all sat in Derek’s loft: the pack (excluding Banshee), Deaton, Morrell, Derek and Peter; the final guests arrive with an overly dramatic slide of the loft door, revealing a very pissed off Chris Argent and Isaac Lahey. “What did you do?” Argent asks angrily, unsure of whom he’s addressing his question to until his eyes rest on Stiles, who starts indignantly, “Why do you assume that I’ve done something?”
“Because you’re almost always involved when it comes to Lydia.” Both arrivals state dryly. Stiles sighs tiredly as he sits back down, but not before glaring at Isaac, “Okay so maybe I might have had something to so with this – how do you know what’s happened anyway?” Argent just looks at him, “You really think that I didn’t know that my daughter’s supernatural best friend had two personalities?” He looks down at his hands for a moment before he speaks again, “Allison worked it out and told me.” Scott looks at the man in surprise, “Allison knew?” Argent nodded but didn’t say anymore on the subject. “Who else knew?” Stiles asks and Scott sighs in reply, “Well apparently both our parents knew but wrote it off as PTSD.” Again it’s silent in the room once more as he processes this information, “So what’s this plan you guys were talking about?” Isaac says in an attempt to defuse the tension that has arisen with the mention of the late hunter. Stiles nods and pulls of a vial of the plant, “I did some research, and I thought that foxglove might have the same effect that the lichen had on the Nogitsune.” The room’s silent as Deaton and Morrell communicate silently before both of them sigh, “Was that a that’s-a-great-idea-and-everything’s-going-to-be-fixed sigh? Or a nope-never-going-to-work-sigh? Really you’re sighs need to be less ambiguous.” Stiles gets out through gritted teeth; both siblings raise their eyebrows at him, but it’s Morrell who speaks, “You need to stop thinking that Lydia’s possessed, or sick, or broken; Lydia and Banshee are one and the same person, maybe once you accept this Lydia will have more control over her conscience.” Stiles isn’t sure whether it’s what she’s saying, or her harsh tone, or the was in which the speech seems to be directed at him, but once again a feeling of guilt settles in Stiles’ stomach. “Well if we can’t change her back at the moment then what do we do about our plan?” Scott asks, deflecting attention away from Stiles when he sees a strange look cross his face. Nonetheless it’s Stiles who answers him, “We bring Banshee with us, the plan stays the same, you heard her she won’t hurt me.” Kira nods in agreement, “Banshee said that she’s just as smart as Lydia, so she can still translate for us.” However Malia huffs in disagreement, “Well I don’t trust her.” Isaac scoffs at her, “I’m sorry but really who are you? Because the last thing I remember you were being mighty ungrateful about the fact that we changed you back into a human, so forgive me if right now I trust a bat-shit crazy Lydia over you.” Malia ignores him and continues talking, “If she goes I don’t, who do you need more?” Scott frowns, but sighs in defeat, “Guess Stiles can take photos and we can get her to translate them later, but someone will have to stay with her.”
“I will.” Scott wants to think that he’s surprised at the man volunteering, but he’s always had suspicions that he had a soft spot for the girl, more so after she liquefied Peter’s liver. Scott nods at him and the plan is finalised and agreed upon.
“It was Malia, wasn’t it?”
Derek looks up from the chessboard, at the small redheaded girl across from him, and nods once before looking back at the game as she moves a piece. “Check – you know she’s your cousin right?” Derek sighs as he moves himself out of check, trying to remember why he had decided to play chess against a genius. “Yes I know she’s my cousin.” Banshee hums non-committedly, “You know we hate her, right?” Derek nods at the girl again, “I heard.” The night continues on like this: everything going smoothly, until everything inevitably goes wrong. Banshee’s hand freezes in place somewhere in the middle of their third game, “Lydia – I mean, Banshee? What’s wrong?” She stares up at him, a haunted look in her eyes as various items in the room start to shake, “Something’s wrong, he’s hurt – Stiles is hurt.” As the minutes pass after the girl’s revelation, and several items start to break or topple from their positions, Derek realises that he should leave; no one knows the level of power that this girl is capable of, and he’s certainly not willing to find out. Instead he retreats to sit outside the loft, firing of a quick text to Scott,
Get here ASAP. Bring Stiles. Banshee’s going crazy.
They arrive just as she starts to scream; “What happened?” Scott shouts at Derek so he’s heard, “I could ask the same thing! One moment she’s telling me that something’s happened to Stiles, next thing I know things start breaking and I’m being hit in the head by books!” Scott looks at Stiles, his eyes flicking down to the scratch the boy gained during the evening, “She knew…Lydia must have had more control –” He breaks off, realisation dawning on his face. He heads for the door but Scott holds him back, “What are you doing?” Stiles pulls himself free from his best friend, “Scott I have to help her, I’m the only one who can.” He could feel it now, that tugging in his chest that he thought was gone, his connection to Lydia; she’d pulled him back, now it was time for him to do the same. Stiles enters the loft to see Lydia on the ground screaming as though she were in pain, rather than to warn of death; wind whipped her hair all around her, and that was when he noticed that the force of her scream, of her, had shattered all the glass in the apartment, everything in the room was either broken or had been thrown about.
“Lydia?” Stiles approaches her cautiously, her mouth isn’t open but he still hears her scream ringing in his ears, the sound carried all around him by the wind that seemed far too strong to be natural. “Lydia, it’s me, Stiles?” She shakes her head at him, “No something’s wrong, she said that he was hurt – that something was wrong – I couldn’t scream- I wasn’t allowed to scream.” He’s close enough to touch her, and he takes her tear streaked face in his hands forcing her to look at him, and he sees her eyes, her pupils so dilated in fear that they’re more black than green; Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever seen Lydia more terrified in her life. “Lydia I’m fine, it was just a scratch, I’m fine, I’m here – but you have to come back to me Lydia, please.” He places his forehead against hers, their noses brushing against one another, as he keeps talking, “Please tell me you can feel that Lydia? That feeling in your chest? That’s our tether, okay? And I don’t think I could bear to feel you let go again, it just hurt so much, so please just come back to me okay?” His hands move from her face to her tiny waist, as her hands move to grip his shoulders, “Please come back to me.” He whispers against her lips before he presses them against his own. The wind around them surges as she melts against him, the embraced pair becoming the calm of Lydia’s storm. The wind stops as Lydia pulls away, and stares at him, “Stiles?” He frowns at her, “Lydia? Is it that you?” She nods, and looks around in confusion, “What – what happened? You were hurt, and then…oh no.” She pushes him away from her as she scrambles back, “I did it again, I’m sorry, I did it again –”
“Lydia, what are you talking about?” Stiles tries to approach her, but she keeps away from him, “No, stay away, I could hurt you.” But Stiles ignores her protests and grabs her hands, “No, you couldn’t, it’s okay.” Lydia stops fighting him, but still tries to keep her distance, until he pulls her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her, “God, I love you Lydia.” He doesn’t know how she’ll react but all he knows is that after losing her due to his own stupidity, he can’t hold back anymore. Lydia doesn’t pull away, “What about Malia?” She mumbles against his chest, “We’ll deal with everything later, all that matters is that you came back, you came back to me.” Honestly right now, nothing else matters to Stiles but the petite girl, with the strawberry blonde hair, and the wide green eyes, that he holds against his chest; the girl he now knows for sure he can never let go of.