Thank you everyone who stuck with my half baked attempt at a proper story! Until next season :) I love you all!

Lydia cried until her tears ran on empty and then seemed to sob until her soul physically hurt. She couldn't move. Alone and powerless in a moldy, dim cement hall with Stiles unconscious at her feet; Lydia could do nothing more than slide down next to her friend and mourn a life she desperately tried to save.

She knew it was futile, that if she went missing Scott and Stiles would do nothing but find her. But, she left them messages, begged in a very blunt way not to find her. Lydia knew, like the nogitsune knew, someone was going to die. Early in the day, she couldn't decided on who it was going to be. Her thoughts shifted from Stiles to Allison like a tennis ball in a heated match.

Part of Lydia believed that it was because she feared for them the most. She didn't know what she was going to do without Allison now.

Lydia only stopped sobbing long enough to register that Stiles was no longer asleep. His arms were slung around her. Weak, but, firm. She gasped for breath. Her makeup smeared across her cheeks and her lip quivered as she pulled away just enough to look into his eyes.

"What happened, Lydia?" His lips mouthed the words, her name a hum, something soft to comfort her.

She shook her head, burying her nose into the cold skin of his neck. Stiles leaned up, groaning quietly, not to alarm her – and shifted enough so she fell easily into his lap. Her arms were still around his neck, her throat was too scratchy and dry to speak.

He just... knew.

She wasn't capable of words, but he held her close anyway, running a hand through her matted, damp hair. He rocked them against the cold wall, waiting until she was calm enough to look at him.

But, all too soon they were bombarded. The facade of a safe haven ripped from Lydia as Mr. Argent stalked through the echoing passage to retrieve them. He spend the walk back instructing her on what to say. That everything happened so fast. That Allison just fell to the ground. Lydia didn't even get to say goodbye, and now she was going to have to lie to the police about it.

Stiles held her hand loosely in his own. They finally broke contact as Chris Argent gingerly assisted him to Kira's mother's car. He wasn't coming with her.

Lydia gave a sharp look at Kira who tried her best to smile. Lydia wished she wouldn't. There was nothing to try and salvage here. Nothing.

Once Mrs. Yukimura drove off, Stiles slumped in the back seat, Mr. Argent turned his full attention on Scott, Isaac and Lydia. He was so brazen, Lydia had to blink back her tears so he wouldn't scowl at her. Scott wasn't as put together, and Issac – Lydia cowered away as Allison's father gave them a story to follow. He'd dispose of his car once he dropped them off at the sheriff station. They couldn't cause attention to this. Too many question, not enough time for well crafted answers.

That's how Lydia found herself on a cold, distant bench outside Sheriff Stilinski's office. She couldn't shake the chill inside her. She couldn't look at Scott or Isaac. Lydia wished they would hurry the interrogation up and call her mother. She needed her mother. When deputy Parrish walked out, calling her name, Scott shot her a pleading look, as if to say, sorry.

But sorry wasn't strong enough. They all failed that night. It wasn't Scott's fault and it wasn't her fault. It was a mix of circumstance and odds never in their favor. Her hand landed on Scott's shoulder, as if to squeeze down on it. But Lydia was too weak to be so soothing and her hand fumbled for a moment against his jacket before falling away, back to her side.

Sheriff Stilinski was the breath of air she needed. He didn't exactly smile at her, not like Kira tried to. She appreciated his remorse. He felt it too. She sat close to him, as he let a much stronger hand squeeze her shoulder. Like she wanted to do for Scott. Like she hoped he did for Scott.

"Could you go through what happened, please. I know it's difficult, but maybe there was something the boys missed."

Lydia sniffed and nodded. Telling a story, lying to authority. It wasn't something new. But, she did feel bad about it. Allison Argent died a hero, defending her friends and everything she believed in. She wasn't the victim of some pathetic car robbery.

Parrish seemed pleased enough, walking around the desk to jot down a few noteworthy sentences.

"Have you heard from Stiles?" The sheriff asked earnestl.

Lydia met his eye, and swallowed a lump in her throat. "When I talked with him he was studying at Kira's house."

Sheriff Stilinski smiled mournfully and stood on stiff legs to call her mother. Lydia laced her fingers and stared in a dark corner of the office.

She always thought things were falling apart. She always said that nothing worse could happen, if only ever to herself. It was like a mantra to calm her erratic mind. She had gone through hell, and as Stiles once told her, she needed to keep on going. Because nothing, not narcissistic werewolves worming their way inside her head, reptilian boyfriends or being a telegram for death ever prepared her for losing her best friend.

"Lydia, I'm sorry. Your mom's not answering." The Sheriff sighed, kneeling in front of her.

"I'll take her." A voice from the doorway insisted. Lydia and the Sheriff turned, seeing Melissa McCall smiling ruefully, Scott behind her looking exactly how Lydia felt.

Sheriff Stilinski nodded, brushing off his deputy who started reciting protocol

Lydia insured that she didn't want Scott to be alone. When the truth was that she couldn't bare the thought of a big empty house with her thoughts as company. She rushed inside to change, ignoring her nightstand which housed several pictures of her raven haired friend. One of which, was a very cheesy frame said friend gave her with big plastic letters reading 'BFF4EVER'.

It didn't seem real. But then again, nothing ever did. Werewolves weren't real. Banshee's weren't real. However, Allison Argent – werewolf hunter extraordinaire and probably the best friend Lydia would ever have, was as real as they come.

Once back inside Mrs. McCall's warm car, Scott tossed his phone down, explaining that they needed to talk to Deaton. Scott's mom quickly pulled onto the road, having only a limited time frame before she needed to be back at the hospital. After Scott changed, quicker than Lydia could imagine, the pair was rushed to the veterinarian clinic, with no time for small talk.

Lydia had the suspicion that Scott had wanted it that way.

Deaton was being humble, but, at the same time his words were laced with their standard vagueness. Lydia used to laugh at how much he got under Stiles' skin. But at that moment, and for the past few weeks, she didn't want half painted truths and fill in the blank questions. She wanted solid answers.

"What if it was made from the nemeton?" Lydia wondered, sparse hope surfacing.

They were so close to finishing this. Deaton eyed her suspiciously, then swallowed back any concrete emotion.

"It was... because I made it." Lydia huffed out a sigh. Finally.

Scott quickly dug through his pockets for his cell phone. Punching in a pin and called Derek Hale.

Lydia listened as Derek agreed to the high school as a meeting point. His voice was muffled by what Lydia believed was just the cell phone and the connection. But, then the muffling grew louder, stronger. The floor disappeared beneath her for a moment and things grew dark.

But it was over before it began. Scott had a hand at her elbow, a concerning stare in his eyes.

"I just got this sudden rushing feeling, like we're running out of time."

Scott sighed, not really needing the pep-less talk.

"Yeah..." a voice agreed from the dark. Lydia turned, her bones hardening with Stiles' voice.

He came into view, pale as a ghost and not too far from death. Lydia swallowed as Kira supported half his weight with her body.

Stiles' dark eyes, which were still brilliantly him, but lacking his initial fight, stared right at Lydia.

"I kinda got that feeling, too."

Lydia murmured a 'thank god' as she dismissed the distance to Stiles. She rushed into his arms, holding him tightly to get a good look. Subtly feeling him. He had to know what she was doing, but Stiles didn't call her out on it.

He was alive and Lydia would do everything she could to keep it that way. The voices didn't disarm her. She wasn't feeling like the end was upon them. But, she did have the nagging sensation that they all just stumbled into the eye of the storm.

Stiles tried to grin at her, bring some life into his eyes, but she didn't want him to lie for her. She took Kira's place, letting his arm dangle across her shoulder. Lydia was stronger with him there. She couldn't remember a time when she ever felt so distraught, when she was so broken, but whole all at once. She knew it had something to do with him.

"We have to get to the school." Scott explained, mostly to Kira.

Lydia noticed that she hadn't broken eye contact with Stiles in an unreasonably long while. She cleared her throat, adjusting his arm to where she could cup his wrist softly. It was to keep him afloat – she reasoned with herself.

"I drove his jeep." Kira was talking back fast, grabbing onto Stiles' other side and slipped the jeep's keys into Scott's awaiting hand.

"Please be careful." Deaton yelled as they exited the clinic. Lydia heard real emotion then.

Stiles' jeep seemed to hit every bump in the road. Lydia cringed each time Stiles muffled a wince. Scott rushed an apology only to repeat it a moment later. Kira was silent. She let her fingers dance across her blade's protective cover. Lydia had been in the know not much longer than Kira had been in Beacon Hills, but she still felt bad that she was caught up in this.

It was Kira's mother who unleashed this demon in the first place, and Lydia feared Kira was overtly helpful because she was overcompensating for her families actions. Not thinking too much into it, Lydia rested her hand on Kira's arm. She wanted to squeeze, just like early with Scott, but she couldn't seem to muster the courage, instead, her fingertips kneaded softly into Kira's jacket until the girl's almond eyes found hers briefly. She didn't try to smile this time.

Scott jerked the jeep into park and Stiles was already jumping out. He fumbled on weak legs until Lydia made it to his side, propping him upright with a small eye roll. He didn't even notice.

"Come on, these doors should be open!" Scott yelled, rushing down the steps towards the north entrance. Kira followed closely behind.

Lydia took her time, not ready to rush the inevitable.

Stiles was hurting. Despite his grimace, she knew it went deeper. Like she could feel it. Even though she knew she couldn't. He was leaning heavily on her, depending on Lydia in a way she never knew she wanted. The pair limped their way towards the doors that Scott was just about to yank open.

Lydia took a deep breath, tasting Stiles' familiar musk. She wrapped her arm tightly around his torso and squared her shoulders. They could do this.

"Scott hold on," the boy she was in the middle of supporting started, Lydia looked up at him defiantly.

Everyone paused to turn to him. "I know what you're thinking. If this works, it might kill me too," – Lydia involuntarily shivered. – "but, even if it does you have to go through with it..."

Pouting and trying really hard not to make it look like a pout; Lydia glanced at Scott who was staring incredulously at his best friend. "The plan is to save you. That's the plan I'm going with."

Lydia smiled. The truth, the powerfully innocent strength in the alpha's words hit Lydia with a wave of power. Stiles was not going to die that night. Scott tugged open the double doors and Stiles looked down at Lydia, defeated. She rose her brow, as if to say, listen to him, and the two followed behind.

The doors opened not into the freshman hallway, but into a frozen Japanese garden. Snow was falling, and the chill racked through Lydia's body with impossible speed. A decent powder of white covered everything. Lydia huddled closer to Stiles, almost adamant about stealing his remaining warmth for herself.

Wind howled and the distant sound of chimes followed. It was tranquil. And if Lydia had not just stepped through the doors into Beacon Hills High – if she wasn't supposed to be looking at her seventh period math classroom and but instead a frosty mini bridge; she'd be mystified by its beauty.

Now she was only scared and cold. Breathing out, she saw the air vaporize before her, and letting go of Stiles, Lydia wrapped her arms around herself, wondering what possessed her to wear a freaking dress.

Listening to the sound of footfall trudging through the impossible snow, Lydia was yet again faced with the demon from Stiles' mind. The one that held him captive and chased her through the memory of the worst night of her life.

The four teens turned to the nogitsune, all bundled in wrappings, rows of sharp teeth smiling at them in a smug, understated welcome. He edged closer, signaling something territorial in Kira. She broke off the line, standing in front, retracting her brilliant sword.

Then, it started to speak. "Like I promised... we're going to kill all of them," the sound was distorted and echoing.

Like something out of a video game she watched Stiles play on his computer. It wasn't feeling real. But, her heart still pounded as the Oni appeared in ghastly black puffs of smoke.

" – and now everyone you care about is dying, too," as the nogitsune taunted them, Lydia felt heat hit her as Stiles came closer, his body angled towards her, while demanding answers from the demon.

It didn't make any sense. They were between life and death? Something monumental would have to happen if that was to be possible. With Stiles, maybe, he could've been hallucinating the whole thing, just like his dreaming early in the month. But, for all four of them to see the same thing... Lydia was trying really hard to think of a logical answer. The nogitsune's voice was wrapping itself around her head, the way he said her name made Lydia's skin crawl.

The nogitsune listed his conquests. Where he hit, who he hurt. "The hospital, " Mrs. McCall and about a hundred innocent people. "The Sheriff Station," Lydia tried not to groan, her hand rested against Stiles' shoulder, sensing the stiffness in him, having his father's life in jeopardy. " – and now the animal clinic," where they all just were, where Deaton still was.

His face in a forever marred smile, the nogitsune stared at Stiles under the gauze, even without eyes, there was too much scrutiny. The demon knew how they were feeling, how terrified and confused they were. As it spoke, Stiles pushed into Lydia.

At first, she believed he was just teetering, trying to stand tall, still too weak. But, as he moved closer, Lydia noticed that he was blocking her from it. Stiles was still protecting her, when he couldn't even walk without hurting. Her hand came up behind his back, pulling him closer.

Lydia wished he'd see that she could take care of herself, that she was here for him, too. The more she tried to listen to the chilling words the nogitsune was spilling, she couldn't ignore how much Stiles was shaking. It distracted her.

"I'm going to make your best friend kill you... and you're going to let him."

Things weren't making sense. This wasn't adding up. Lydia's eyes narrowed, trying pathetically, to see through the demon's words. He was aloof and determined, swaying like a tree caught in the wind. Scott and Stiles looked at each other, Lydia knew there was disbelief. The nogitsune didn't know Scott. And he didn't know Stiles very well, since neither boy would ever let what the demon wanted happen.

Stiles broke out of Lydia's arms, glaring at the monster before them. "Why are you doing this?"

She tried to pull him back, not to let him feed into the 'game'. But, Stiles wasn't retreating. The Oni who stood dormant for much of the confrontation crouched into attack mode, startling the teens while doing so.

Scott shifted, his eyes a brilliant burning red that would cut through Lydia's impending nightmares; and Kira, who Lydia always saw as meek and giddy – looked like a warrior. A determination and poise in the way she wielded the blade above her head ready to fight had Lydia's full attention.

Lydia couldn't be sure, but it looked like Kira pounced first, slashing her sword in the air, cutting through snow and black smog as the Oni ducked out of her way. Stiles tugged on Lydia's bare arm. She didn't feel a chill between their connecting skin, realizing that they were both probably freezing. She helped him move out of the line of fire, crouched behind the bridge.

Her arms instinctively wrapped around Stiles. His breathing was shallow and his skin was paling rapidly. She watched in horror as two of her friends fought out numbered. Part of Lydia wished she could do something significant like them, like Allison. She swore that if they survived this, she'd force Scott to teach her something. Seeing how graceful Kira was, how she seemed to dance through battle had Lydia change her mind. She was forcing Kira to help her. Allison would be proud.

"This can't be real,"

Lydia couldn't ignore the complete lack of logic. Her whole world, until just a few months ago was built solely on logic. This wasn't making sense. Peter told her that supernatural wasn't science, but still things didn't feel right to her. Everything was too neatly wrapped up, Scott kills Stiles and what? Everything goes back to normal? Lydia wasn't convinced.

Stiles dies and the nogitsune feeds off of the rest of Stiles' energy plus all the pain Lydia knew she and Scott especially will be feeling? – Making the nogitsune stronger was the worst thing they could do. Feeding into the chaos, letting it take control of them would be damaging.

"Yeah? Tell that to them," Stiles, who was so close to her, their heads kept bumping into each other whenever they breathed, threw back.

Kira's sword was knocked from her grip and time seemed to stop as it flew in the air. Lydia watched it fall near them, as Kira was cornered by the Oni.

"Screw this," she heard Stiles hiss as he scrambled to his feet, grunting from the pain.

Lydia jumped up with him, confused and worried. He grabbed the sword, but, instead of throwing it back to Kira, Stiles eyed it with such intensity, it had Lydia's heart plummet. He positioned the blade to cut through his stomach, as his hands shook, attempting to holding it straight.

She tried to yell. She really did. But Lydia couldn't find her voice. She was horrified watching his eyes harden, and his jaw set. She shook her head, frantically trying to say something. Scott noticed, thankfully and begged Stiles before she could.

It was like every crappy memory she had of being a complete monster to Stiles Stilinski flashed across her mind, and she would never be able to make it up to him. She refused to let him do that to her. A new wave flooded through her, of a beaten and bruised boy promising he'd be lost without her. She understood. It took a little longer than forever, but, Lydia understood as she gaped, utterly unnerved at the boy willing to risk his life.

"What if it saves all of you?" he asked, his hand wouldn't stop shaking.

Lydia was angry now. He couldn't just leave them. Didn't he know how important he was? Allison just died and he was going to sacrifice himself?

"What if it's just a trick?" she demanded.

The nogitsune seemed to hover around them, whispered her name in that sickening gentle way, promising that he wasn't playing anymore games. But he was. That's exactly what he was doing. Her glassy green eyes shot up at Stiles. Didn't he see?

"End it, Scott..." the nogitsune crooned. It ranted, almost gleefully as Stiles stared hard at the blade.

This was what it wanted. Lydia could see that. Scott wouldn't. He shook his head defiantly, as Stiles' hands fumbled to grip the sword tight. He'd do it himself before Stiles ever let Scott live with that guilt. Time still slow, Lydia felt paralyzed to it. She couldn't save him, she couldn't move.

Miraculously, Stiles paused, letting the blade's tip fall from his shirt. He stared blankly at something behind him, and Lydia breathed a sigh of relief once Stiles threw the weapon back to Kira.

Stiles turned back to Lydia. He must have saw something in her face that made him somber because the cold, darkness melted from his eyes and he moved out a hand to grab hold of her. He was weaker now, as he lurched, staggering into her arms. Lydia held him up with all her strength. She had one arm wrapped around his torso, the other across his back. He pulled her into his side, not smiling, but seemingly more confident than before.

She wanted to know his secret motivation.

"Stop fighting them!" he yelled. "It's an illusion."

Illusions made little sense. How would they all see the same thing. How was the nogitsune that powerful? Lydia gazed at Stiles with a mix of shock and doubt. He begged Scott to trust him, and something in the werewolf clicked. Lydia held her breath as Scott turned his back, and walked through the army of Oni towards the garden door.

The first one slashed Scott across the chest. Lydia jumped back in surprise. Stiles held her closer, urging her further. It cut him again, and again, Kira, too. Stiles whispered "it's okay," in her ear, and even then, she didn't have the faith that Scott seemed to.

Once he made it to the end, Scott charged the demon, knocking him into the garden's door with a vigor that seemed to come from deep within.

The four were thrust from the alternate reality and into the freshman hallway. Stiles was still clung tight to her side. Lydia could see light spill from the open door of her math classroom. She sighed in relief, her head briefly resting on Stiles' chest. Scott examined himself, and Kira, shocked when he said, "We're okay."

Something hit him from behind. The three remaining spun, seeing the other Stiles crudely smirking at Kira. He hit her, knocking over the sword. She rolled on the floor. Then he turned, no more amusement in his eyes. He was angry as he glared at Stiles. An exact replica projecting the vile darkness that Stiles never could.

"This was my game," he declared.

The dark Stiles stepped closer. Lydia remembered how he seemed to gravitate towards her in the old interment camp, the same way he seemed to now. She could feel his skin, clammy and cold, unlike Stiles', his rough lips on her ear in a way Stiles would never treat her – she hated this thing and wanted it gone.

"Divine Move?" it spat, growing more and more angry as it caused the pair to move backwards quickly.

They were still intertwined as he screamed about being too powerful for a bunch of teenagers.

"We can change you," Lydia heard herself yelling.

He paused, canvassing her. "What?"

"You forgot about the scroll," Stiles sighed, rubbing a thumb along the curve of her shoulder.

Before anyone was ready for it, Scott was sinking his fangs into the void Stiles' arm. Lydia listened to the screams. Screamed that could be Stiles', watched Kira run her sword through his chest and moved aside as the body of someone who looked exactly like the boy next to her turn to dust as he died.

Isaac cleared his throat, the fly locked safely in the wooden triskelion box. "What a night." He mumbled grimly, rotating the object in his grasp.

It was the first time any of them could really catch their breath. No one else knew what to say. Lydia let her arm drop from Stiles' back, but he was still extremely close to her. She closed her eyes for a moment, and then opened them to see Stiles collapse to the floor.

He was breathing. Scott ran his hand through his hair with a relieved sigh. Stiles just passed out. Lydia crouched next to him, holding his limp hand. He was already getting some color back in his face. It was only about five minutes, maybe less. But it felt like an eternity for the four waiting for him to wake up.

Stiles eyes opened with a large gasp of air. Lydia closed her eyes again, thanking god that he woke so quickly. She had a hand still tangled in his shirt and Stiles blinked up at them with a confused, sheepish expression.

"Oh god, I fainted, didn't I?" He wondered shamefully.

After a pause, he added, "Are we all alive."

Lydia watched pain streak across Scott's face. She was sure the same pain was clear on her own. How could they sit there and laugh about something when their friend was dead. Lydia tried not to think too much into it. That would be for later, when she'd go back to her empty house and stare at the pictures on her night stand, or look at the ones that lined her locker's wall.

Allison was everywhere but right beside her.

Scott choked out a "yeah," and the room deflated of the abrupt tension.

As if someone was calling her name, Lydia looked up from Stiles and down the dark hallway. She rose, realizing that everyone was watching her, and listened as she embraced her tragic gift. When she knew it was Allison that died, when she realized just how vivid and vibrant these feelings – the tiny muffled voices and flashes of images could be, something occurred to Lydia.

Everything was stronger when she cared. She knew that sounded harsh. But having the feeling that something bad was going to happen, and seeing it clear as day in her mind were two different things. It seemed like an obvious guess that the more Lydia felt for someone, the more potent the feelings.

And the feeling she had now was a cruel one.

Those voices that seemed to mock and mimic her inner fears swirled around in a gust of answerless questions, voices ringing out, her name a dying breath. Aiden. She started to run. She ignored Kira and Scott calling to her, as she chased a ghostly feeling down the hallway and through the end doors. She rushed to the steps, seeing the underpass plainly.

She could see Ethan thrown over his brother's body protectively. He was crying, it was clear. Aiden was dead. That wasn't possible. He said he was leaving. Why was he still around?

Lydia gaped blankly at the scene. The wind caught her hair, the cold prickled her skin, but she felt powerless to the feeling of loss. First Allison, her first true friend, and now Aiden.

She had to talk herself into liking him after the storm passed last time. He was full of hope and promise and she was left with a choice. She could try and confront her feelings for Stiles Stilinski, or she could take the safe route with Aiden.

Part of Lydia knew he was dead because of her. She wasn't sure if it was that whole survivors guilt thing she read up on, or a supernatural banshee thing, but Aiden was gone and she had to watch his twin break down. Allison's father was there, probably remembering Allison's body sprawled out, the similarity harrowing.

There was nothing she could do for Aiden, but she couldn't keep doing this.

She turned, sensing him there. Like a pull of a tether, she rushed into his now much sturdier arms, crushing Stiles to her.

His hand came up to cradle her head. She wasn't crying, not yet. Lydia wasn't sure if she could ever cry again. She'd seen too much pain and suffering to last her two lifetimes. She buried her face in the crook of his neck. He was warm again, and he felt strong and safe.

"You're back," She whispered lamely. Like it just occurred to her.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised her, his voice just as soft.

It was like a broken record at this point. There was nothing standing in her way anymore. Lydia understood, with an unequivocal intensity that Stiles was everything good for her. She had to nearly lose him a handful of times to see but, it was like a lanky, gawky shaped hole in her heart was filled when he had his arms wrapped tight around her – like a light bulb went off, and it ignited the stars; all signs pointing to Stiles.

They were yanked away from each other, but Lydia wouldn't dwell on it too much. Sheriff Stilinski found them at the school, all of them. Lydia and Stiles had fallen asleep, propped against the school building, the November wind dusting them with goosebumps.

Kira's father had driven her home, and as if god was actually answering her prayers, her mother was at the door, demanding answers. Lydia found more tears to shed as she explained that Allison died. She wouldn't go into the detail, because she couldn't lie to her mother. Lydia especially couldn't diminish Allison's reputation and try to pass off that she was a victim when Allison was never anything but a hero.

School went on. Life went on. Scott took some time off, and Lydia gladly brought him his homework, spending more time than she knew was for his own benefit with the alpha. They sat and talking about nothing, which was everything to Lydia.

She wanted Scott to know that she loved him. That Lydia wasn't just friends with him because Allison dated him. She wanted to spend time with Scott McCall because Scott loved Allison as much as Lydia did, and she needed to fill her life with the positive memories.

Isaac disappeared. He cleared his stuff from Scott's house one day, leaving a note, thanking Mrs. McCall for everything she did for him. Scott said he spend most of his time with Mr. Argent. Lydia wished they could do something for him.

Kira had taken to eating alone again. Lydia knew she was just trying to blend, not get in anybodies way, because they were all mourning. Lydia started sitting with Kira out in the hall, munching on her salad and letting Kira explain some of her kitsune mythology Lydia had not caught up on.

Stiles stayed away the longest. Lydia was sort of glad. She was ready to concede, completely willing to divulge feelings that she was still processing. She was ready to pour out her broken heart to a boy who deserved more than a hallow excuse of a girl. Lydia wasn't ready for a relationship. Aiden just died. She tried so hard to use him as a replacement for something she wanted, and he died never knowing she did appreciate him. After everything he did, all that Lydia shoved in his face, he died fighting. There would never be a way to let him know, but Aiden died a good guy.

It was while Lydia was driving home from school a week and a half after Allison's death, that she decided that too much time had been wasted worrying. She had opted to go straight home, study for her AP history class Lydia was sure she was failing, –having a B on her report card would probably push her completely over the edge– instead of hanging out with the guys at Stiles' house.

It wasn't like she was avoiding her friends. Lydia couldn't do that anymore. But just falling back into a routine seemed so wrong. It was Kira who told her that it was normal to not want to throw herself back into things, like Kira was some expert on losing people. Lydia realized that she didn't want to be normal and she didn't want to do the normal thing.

She wasn't ordinary anymore.

Sitting straighter in the driver seat, Lydia waited patiently, until the light changed green, then preparing to do something entirely out of her comfort zone, she pressed hard on the gas and rounded the corner sharply, heading straight to the Sheriff's house.

Being around people was good for her. Being around Stiles was probably better. He understood her on a level that she didn't even accept herself, which she hoped would come in handy – and she wouldn't have to admit anything, he'd just know. Like he always did.

Jogging up the porch to Stiles' front door, Lydia wouldn't be surprised if Scott could hear how hard her heart was pounding from inside the house. She was scared and excited and the adrenaline was so enticing, Lydia was dizzy from it all. She rose a fist, knocking eagerly on the door.

Maybe she'd just throw her arms around him, insure that she was an idiot and just go from there. Too many people were dead. People she cared about. Stiles nearly made that list, she wasn't going to let her stubbornness and fear stop her from doing something she thought was right. She had been battling the butterflies, the safety and warmth she always felt around him.

Admitting to her feelings was a risk. That's what she told herself months ago. Stiles was safe in the least conventional way. He made her feel things that Lydia was so afraid to feel. He looked at her as if she hung the moon at times, and she knew she didn't deserve that. Lydia had done her share of bad things. But, in the wake of all the bloodshed, when she was finally able to catch her breath, he was right there. He had always been right there.

Stiles snuck under her skin and she couldn't shake him. It was like nothing she ever felt before. Lydia bounced on the balls of her feet, waiting for someone to let her in. One hand was in her hair, tugging nervously. The other smoothed out her skirt, not like it mattered much what she looked like. She probably looked insane.

She heard the lock break away, and the door was being pulled open. Lydia smiled brightly, ready for what was coming next. She could tell a boy she liked him. It wasn't rocket science – though Lydia was preferring that at the moment.

She sucked in a breath and then choked on it harshly as she tried to swallow down her surprise.

"Lydia!" A tall, tan, beautiful brunette was grinning at her.

Malia Tate. She was at Stiles' house. Lydia wasn't quick to mask her confusion.

"Scott was giving me another lesson in shifting," she explained with a shrug like it was obvious.

Lydia's frown only deepened, her brows knitted together.

Malia laughed, "Sorry," she came to stand outside for a moment, the front door wide open. "We were never actually introduced."

Though it strained her patients, Lydia smiled at Malia. "Yeah. It's been a few crazy weeks."

Malia beamed. It took Lydia's breath away just how happy this girl was. Lydia couldn't get mad about it, but, she was jealous of the coyote girl for a second. She wasn't in complete agony. Her best friend and sort-of maybe boyfriend didn't just die on her. Her world didn't come to a crashing halt. If anything, her world just began to spin.

A tan, energetic hand flew out, extended a comfortable distance away from Lydia. "I know it's been a while, but I didn't forget all my manors," she laughed again.

She was a bit infectious. Lydia would deny it later, but she smiled back. Like she did in school the other morning. Malia, whether Lydia was ready for it or not, was clearly here to stay.

Lydia grabbed onto Malia's hand with a tiny squeeze. The girl enthusiastically pumped Lydia's hand, that same smile broadening her pretty face. Touching Malia Tate did something, it was like a catalyst or just a very blunt realization.

Warm smiles and cold hands.

Lydia flinched as if this girl burned her. How was it possible...

Malia grinned at Lydia, unaware of the red head's shock. She dropped her hand with a bounce and walked backwards to head into the house.

Lydia felt that hope that Stiles felt during his stay at Eichen House. Malia was with Stiles there. Swallowing something ugly inside her, Lydia stepped back. Malia eyed her curiously.

"Oh god, I'm an idiot," she started, laughing not to alert Malia.

Lydia's heart felt like it was breaking all over again.

"I forgot. I'm supposed to meet my mom. Wow – and the time, – I gotta – It was nice to see you." Lydia rushed.

She knew she probably didn't say one coherent thing. She was focusing on pushing out a fair amount of kindness. It was only a little difficult. Lydia's head was spinning, coming down from a high instead of riding one.

She walked backwards down the steps, nearly tripping over her too tall heels. She laughed again, waving awkwardly at Malia. She waited until the coyote girl waved back, some of that enthusiastic energy missing, but Lydia wouldn't worry about it. Then, she ran to her car.

Malia made Stiles happy. Malia gave Stiles hope. Lydia threw the gear into drive and raced from the Stilinski house, down any side street she hit first. She zig-zagging her way out of there, running away from a problem she wasn't strong enough to deal with.

As she drove away, out of town limits to clear her head, Lydia pleaded with herself that it was better this way. Stiles couldn't wait around forever and Malia seemed like a ray of sunshine to concur the storm.

In the beginning, Lydia believed that they were too different. Stiles will all his awkward and graceless ways. He was a nobody, a clown, not worthy of the great Lydia Martin's time. He loved so blindly, and he was dependable to a fault. Lydia was cold and cruel and she cared about status and lacrosse captains and making anyone around her feel inferior.

Stiles cut through the act with words that sized her up. She was no better than him. They weren't so different. The more she got to know him, the harder it was to form excuses. The meaner she became, the more Stiles saw right through it. The divergence was a lie. He got under her skin, found the person she always wanted to be, and proved to her that it wasn't all that scary to show who you really are.

She would always appreciate that. He saved her from herself, and she returned the favor. Lydia thought Stiles threw her into the supernatural when truly, it was always inside her. She never would have gotten that far without Allison and Scott and Stiles. They tried to protect her, lied and fought her, and now it was her turn to help. She'd let Stiles be happy.

Lydia was happy for him, for them. Feeling what she had just felt knowing what was coming or what could form; it was like dodging a bullet, really. Throwing herself into something just because it was there and because she just started to realize wasn't fair to her friend. She'd break it, she'd break Stiles. She'd ruin him if she wasn't careful and he didn't need anymore ruining.

It was better this way, Lydia repeated. Maybe if she said it long enough, it would stick.

The end.

[I'm a horrible person]