Author's Note: I was really excited to write another dream sequence. Hope you enjoyed it!

The more she thought about it the more angry she got. How was Isaac a better anchor than her? How was the Beacon Hills Mystery Vet a better anchor than her? Lydia saw him at the end of the hall and walked over to him.

"I'm a great anchor," she told him.

"Huh?" he asked, looking confused.

"I'm a great anchor," she repeated. "Say it."

"You're a great anchor?"

"You're damn right I am. So why was last night the first time you asked for my help?"

"I... didn't need it before," Stiles told his sneakers. Lydia rolled her eyes. You'd think the son of a sheriff would be better at lying during an interrogation.

"Stop lying," Lydia tried to control the volume of her voice, not wanting to yell at him in front of the whole school.

"Fine!" Stiles slammed his locker shut. "I've had dreams like that every night since the sacrifice. Are you happy?"

"Then why didn't you tell me?" she asked. "Allison and Isaac-"

"Are dating," he cut her off. "Allison's anchor is her boyfriend, Scott's is his boss, mine is..."

The bell rang.

"Stiles-"

"I have class," Stiles retreated, traveling about as fast down the hallway as he could without running.

She thought about it all day. Stiles knew he could come to her, right? If he had needed her help he could have asked.

But, as she was getting into bed that night she couldn't help but think about when Peter was messing with her head last year. She could have asked Allison for help. Or her mom. Or... someone. But she didn't. Maybe if she had, Peter wouldn't be back and she could have nipped that whole thing in the bud before she poisoned her friend.

She sighed. It would be great to have normal problems. It would be amazing to worry about boys instead of alpha packs and grades instead of human sacrifices. But that was not what her life was like.

At least this was never dull.

And with that, she drifted off to sleep.

Hold me close and hold me fast

The magic spell you cast

This is la vie en rose

They were alone on the dance floor. She felt like they were the only two people in the world. Lydia sighed, content. She gazed at the twinkling lights that were strung above them. She rested her head on his shoulder.

When you kiss my heaven sighs

And though I close my eyes

I see la vie en rose

She could feel the warmth of his hand on her waist through the delicate fabric of her dress. She was tired, but pleasantly so. Her arm was wrapped around his neck, half for closeness, half so she could put some of her weight on him. He didn't seem to mind.

When you press me to your heart

I'm in a world apart

A world where roses bloom

She lifted her head so she could look at him. A smile spread across his lips. His fingers threaded through hers. Warmth spread through her.

And when you speak, angels sing from above

Everyday words seem to turn

Into love songs

She grinned back at him. She rested her forehead against his. The ends of her hair brushed his shoulders as she leaned in.

Give your heart and soul to me

And life will always be

La vie en rose

He kissed her gently. His lips shaping themselves around hers. Lydia felt giddy. And even though her eyes were closed she felt like the twinkling lights were still dancing in front of her.

He pulled back and looked at her. She leaned forward, instinctively, not wanting the kiss to end. But the way he looked at her, like he wanted nothing more than to dance with her all night, to look at her all night. It was almost better than the kiss.

He looked down at their still intertwined hands and she followed his gaze.

"Lydia?" her eyes rose to meet his.

They weren't on the dance floor anymore. They were in a dark room. Lit by one flickering light bulb. Stiles' voice was full of panic.

"Lydia!" his voice was hoarse. "You're not supposed to be here."

Lydia was paralyzed. She couldn't move. All she could do was squeeze his hand tighter.

"Lydi-" something grabbed him by the ankle, turning the end of her name into a wordless scream.

Scream.

Lydia sucked in air, trying to scream, trying to do something, anything. But the only sound she could make was a faint, high pitched, whine.

Stiles slammed into the ground and Lydia, still holding his hand, was brought to her knees. She tried to keep her grip on his hand and looked for something to anchor herself to. But all she found was the dusty floor around her.

Wait.

She had been here before. In the dream she's shared with Stiles. This was a dream. It had to be.

"Stiles," she locked eyes with him. "You're dreaming. Wake up."

"No," he said through gritted teeth. "It's real."

"You're dreaming, we're dreaming." Lydia told him. "We were just dancing, remember?"

She saw the realization flicker in his eyes.

"If we're dreaming we can wake up," she told him. "Wake up, Stiles!"

Whatever was pulling on his ankle pulled harder, almost freeing him from her grasp.

"Wake up now!"

Lydia sat up in bed gasping for air and drenched with sweat. Her hands were shaking. Her whole body was shaking.

Her phone rang. Startling her. She stifled a scream.

"Stiles?" she didn't have to look at her phone to know who it was.

"Did you-"

"Yes." She rubbed her arms, trying to make the goosebumps that now covered them disappear.

There was a pause on the other end. She heard him take in a shaky breath. It wasn't until he started talking that Lydia realized he was trying not to cry.

"I'm sorry, Lydia," he struggled to get the words out. "I didn't mean to get you into all this. If I could stop it- If I could make it so you didn't have to have the dreams too... I just- I'm sorry for yelling at you, I really didn't mean-"

"Stiles, stop," Lydia whispered. "none of this is your fault. I'm not mad at you. I'm worried about you. I want to help."

"But you shouldn't have to-"

"But I am. Allison's anchor is her boyfriend, Scott's is his boss, and I'm your partner. I'm going to help you get through this whether you want me to or not."

"Okay."