Teen Wolf 1. Prologue

**A/N: PLEASE READ. **So here's the deal. This isn't going to be a series, only one really long one shot, but _**this**_is the prologue. I need at least a few reviews and opinions before I continue writing the rest, so please leave a review. This story will be marked as complete, but like I said, if you want more, I need feedback!

{ ghost of you }

_and I'll never be quite the same as I was before this  
part of you still remains, though it's out of focus_

∙ prologue ∙

It hadn't even been a week. It felt like so much longer, though, like it had been years at the least. Things were different without him; nothing came so naturally anymore. Every smile was fake, every laugh forced. She put on a show, only convincing enough to fool her family, never allowing them to see her at her worst. She built a wall around herself, one that only _he_ would be able to break through, but that could never happen. At least, not anymore. He was gone, and she supposed she should've been able to come to terms with that, but it was easier said than done. Stiles Stilinski was dead, leaving a broken Lydia Martin behind.

..

She had held onto Scott at the wake, unable to even glance towards the body at the front of the room. It was all so unreal; it felt like a hazy nightmare, one that you would wake up from with tears in your eyes, just happy that it was over. Lydia would've given anything for it to be just that, but this was real, this wasn't a nightmare. Scott was buried deep in his grief, refusing to talk to anyone, only staring at the body, at _Stiles_. He blamed himself for this, had lost himself in his own guilt.

It hadn't been his fault, though. It hadn't been any of their faults; Stiles was never supposed to be on that list. He was the only human in the pack; he was supposed to get out of this alive. But as Lydia felt the crumpled up paper in her pocket, she could feel the weight of his name, the name she had written down. He had been under their constant protection, Scott vowing to keep his best friend safe at all costs, willing to risk his own life. In the end, even that hadn't been enough.

The entire pack was gathered together in the front row, even Isaac and Derek making an appearance. The room was silent, the quiet cries towards the back the only sound that could be heard. A few people went up and made speeches, but Lydia wasn't paying attention, couldn't pay attention. If she let herself process where she was, what was happening, for more than a split second, she'd lose all the control she was trying very hard to keep. If you would've asked her at the beginning of sophomore year, she would've felt remorse (she wasn't a monster), but it wouldn't have been that big of a deal. People died all the time, it was only natural. That was before she got to know him, though. Before she had become part of the pack, before she had kissed away his panic attack, before she had slowly started developing some sort of feelings for him.

All that meant nothing, now. A selfish part of her wished that she wouldn't have ever allowed him to worm his way into his life, wished that she would've left Beacon Hills the second she learned what it was all about. But things hadn't worked out that way. Stiles had unexpectedly become one of the most important people in her life, and things were suddenly dull without him here. His presence had the ability to brighten up a room, always able to lighten the situation somehow. It had only been a few months since she had lost both Allison and Aiden; this was too soon.

Death really did follow her around.

She barely felt it when Scott released her hand, barely acknowledged him as he stood up and moved towards the microphone. Seeing was believing, and she was trying so hard not to believe. Scott cleared his throat and glanced at the body behind him before he began to speak.

"This is, um, this is hard. I never thought I'd be here, not in these circumstances," He paused and glanced at the pack before continuing.

"I guess I don't really know what Stiles was to most of you. Maybe you saw him in the hallways at school or maybe he was in some of your classes. Maybe he was that annoying kid on the street that was always driving around in his jeep. I really have no idea. What I do know is that he is- was my best friend."

Lydia felt the cheap mascara she had clumsily thrown on earlier that morning begin to sting against her eyes, signaling an impending tear. She knew crying was inevitable, but crying wouldn't bring him back. Crying wouldn't do anything. She felt Isaac grip her left hand tightly and she squeezed, grateful for the pressure.

"I lost a best friend and Sheriff lost a son. I know that I should probably start reliving happy memories, but I can't. I can't because I'm still here while he's lying in that casket about to be buried underground," Scott's voice began to shake. "He was too young for this; it was too soon. He and I used to talk about our plans after graduation, how we'd always live within five miles of each other. But he's gone now."

Malia was still getting used to the way humans acted, how they were supposed to feel, but the grief she felt right now was too strong. She wasn't supposed to be crying, no, she was the werecoyote, the strong one. She had just lost the only person out of the entire pack that she had genuinely cared about, the only one that had worked very hard to help her fit in. Scott was right; he was gone now. She felt she had no reason to keep sitting here, no reason to continue to listen to the cries of random high schoolers who hadn't even known him.

Scott quieted for a moment as Malia rushed out of the room, Derek quickly chasing after her.

"I feel like it's all just a dream, you know? It doesn't feel real. I keep thinking that any minute he's going to wake up and say it was all just a joke. I'd be mad, but at least I'd have him in my life…," He trailed off. "I wish I could help you get through your pain, but I can't get through my own. I honestly, I'm just, I'm lost without him."

Nearly everyone in the room winced as his voice cracked. Lydia closed her eyes and willed herself to stop with the tears, but she wasn't the only one crying, now. Kira was right along with her, her tears shamelessly trailing down her cheek. Isaac's grip tightened as if he knew exactly what Lydia needed, and she hesitated before resting her head against his shoulder. She had never been close with Isaac, had never had much of a connection to him, but none of that mattered right now.

Scott slowly backed away from the microphone, turning to face his fallen best friend. He fell to his knees in front of the open casket and stayed like that for a few minutes before Liam gently guided him back to his seat. Sheriff Stilinski was the next to talk, but Lydia blocked out his speech completely. She wouldn't be able to handle his. She had a feeling everyone in here would be in tears by the time the wake was over.

It wasn't long before people began to shuffle out, the pack still frozen in their seats. Whether he was human or not, Stiles had still been one of their own, and the loss affected every single one of them. Lydia tried to pull herself together enough to make a speech, but it was nearly impossible. Every single time she thought she could breathe again, the tears would come back and she would be painfully reminded of just where she was.

She stayed at Scott's house that night, Isaac, Liam and Kira as well. They all slept (did any of them really even bat an eye?) in the same room that night, all cuddled up on the couch. It was close to 4:00 AM when Lydia peeled Scott's arm off her back and made her way to the bathroom. She nearly cringed as she glanced at the reflection; was that really her? She rubbed a bit of water on her face, wishing she could just wake up from this nightmare. As she turned the faucet off and turned to leave the bathroom, she glanced back at the mirror. Her entire body froze.

He had his arms folded across his chest, the outfit he had worn the night he died still resting comfortably against his skin. There were dark circles under his eyes and he bore a deep resemblance to the nogitsune, looking as tired as ever. She slowly moved closer, and pushed her finger against the glass, flinching as he disappeared.

_Lydia_.

She frantically looked around the bathroom, immediately panicking. There was no way in hell that _he_ just said her name. _He _was dead; Stiles couldn't have possibly said her name, he couldn't have possibly just shown up in the mirror. She must have been imagining things. There was no way this was possible. But she _was_ a banshee. She shook her head and glanced at the mirror one last time before flicking off the light. If she would've waited a few seconds longer, she would've seen the boy reappear in the corner of the room, a sad smile playing on his lips. But she didn't.

**A/N: **Like I said above, this is _only_ the prologue. The one shot will be close to 8,000 words, I'm assuming, if not more. Please leave me feedback!


	2. Ghost of You

**A/N:** Here we gooooo. Thanks for all the feedback! I really appreciated it.

{ ghost of you }

_turn my back to the door, feels so much better now  
don't even try anymore, nothing left to lose  
there's a voice that's in the air, saying don't look back nowhere  
there's a voice that's always there_

Lydia was growing used to the sound of glass shattering. She'd stayed with Scott the first few nights for moral support (she needed him as much as he needed her), and it had been the same thing over and over again: a pained howl and the sound of glass hitting the wall at the force of Scott's hand. The pack had fallen apart, Scott unable to find it in himself to lead or help. She sat at home with him for days, never forcing him to go to school because truthfully, the pain of walking through those halls, the sudden loss of Stiles still weighing heavy in their hearts just didn't seem appealing. Her mother wasn't around enough to notice and even if she did, she didn't vocalize her concerns.

Isaac had suggested they visit Stiles at his grave, but that had only created the start of a heavy breakdown for Scott. He stopped talking to everyone, wouldn't leave his room. Even so, Lydia continued to sleep at his house, never wanting to leave him alone for too long, afraid of what he would do. Isaac had decided to stay in town for a few more weeks, his loyalty to the alpha still as strong as ever. Nobody knew what had happened to Malia; she had disappeared the day after the wake, Derek informing them that he was going to take her away for a few days. It was probably for the best. Lydia wished it was that easy, to just be able to run through the woods and outrun your problems.

She hadn't told anyone about seeing Stiles in the mirror that night, afraid it was all just her imagination. She may've been a banshee, but it had been all too real; nothing of that sort had ever happened before. It had been a few days since the wake, close to four (she lost count, every day felt the same), but the dullness that was left behind ever since Stiles's death drug on. Beacon Hills had been darker, gloomier than it had ever been, and it seemed there wasn't hope for any of them.

Lydia shut her eyes tightly, blocking everything out for just a moment. She just needed five seconds without the weight of his death pushing against her heart, widening the hole that had been left. She was well aware that she would never be able to fix this by herself; she'd lost too many people, too many of the people that she was close to in such a short time span. But she was a banshee, and that was her curse.

She could hear the sound of Scott throwing things around in his room, this being a nightly occurrence. She wondered how much he had left to break. A pained howl echoed through the night, and she tried her hardest to cover her ears, to block out the sound. It was a futile attempt, though, and she knew it. Isaac could be heard upstairs, leaving the guest room to check on Scott. He was the only one Scott had let in, though it hadn't been without days of pleading, angry threats, and barely concealable cries.

She knew better than to try and listen in, and instead focused on trying to sleep, the heated air mattress sucking her in. Sleep hadn't seemed important these last few days, though; nothing was. Nothing was the same without Stiles here, as if Scott shutting himself down hadn't been an indication. They were brothers, friends since they were little. Lydia hadn't been around Stiles long, having ignored him since third grade. She really had no right to be so upset, did she?

She flipped on her stomach and pulled the fluffy, blue blanket she had stolen from home up to her chest, ignoring the howls and yells that reverberated around the house. She couldn't help but feel like someone was watching her, but she pushed away the instinct to open her eyes and look around. She'd felt this way since the wake, and a nagging part of her told her she knew exactly who was watching her, but she wouldn't believe it. No, she was just being too hopeful. She slowly allowed the sleep to swallow her whole, the feeling of a finger grazing her cheek being the last thing she felt before she was gone.

…

"I just wanna talk to him, to see how he's doing, to hug him," Kira said to Lydia a few days later before the first bell. Today was her first day back at school, but she would've given anything to just spend some more time on that air mattress back at the McCall house. Melissa had nearly shoved both she and Isaac out the door early that morning, informing them that she would take care of Scott and that they needed to get some fresh air. Isaac had been less than enthusiastic, Lydia hating the idea even more, but they had agreed nonetheless.

She pursed her lips and shook her head. "He's pretty torn right now."

Kira paused and smiled sympathetically. "How are you?"

Lydia shrugged. She was never the type to crave someone's pity, and that wasn't about to change now. "I'm fine. I'm just really worried about Scott right now; he's not doing too well."

"I figured," the kitsune awkwardly scratched the back of her neck, "I just wish he'd talk to me about it."

Lydia was saved from replying, Isaac choosing that moment to join the conversation. She raised an eyebrow. When had he suddenly decided they were friends? Either way, she was glad for his presence, he being the only one she really felt she could turn to right now.

"Hey," He greeted casually, his books slung in one arm, his other hand rising up to wave slightly.

"Hey," Kira nodded her head, "I should probably get going. I'll see you guys at lunch."

She waved before departing, leaving the banshee and long lost werewolf alone in the middle of a nearly empty hall, the first bell having rung minutes ago.

"You're not planning on staying, are you?" Lydia turned to face him, her voice sharper than she intended, her eyebrow raised high.

Isaac smiled down at the floor before he met her eyes, mischief swimming through his irises. "Did you expect anything else?"

She eyed her open locker, pondering his silent invitation before slowly nodding her head. "Alright, fine, let's get out of here."

It didn't take much effort for a werewolf with heightened senses to sneak them out of the school, though Lydia had insisted she could've done it on her own; it wouldn't be the first time. They had just passed through the last set of doors, Isaac laughing slightly. She laughed through her nose, somewhat enjoying the situation. How could anyone expect them to actually stay in school? It hadn't even been a week.

She hadn't even been staring at anything in specific, had just been allowing her eyes to wander, when she had frozen completely, her eyes wide. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised, shouldn't have actually thought that seeing him would just be a one-time thing, a figment of her imagination formed from her grief. Because here he was, leaning against a tree, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

_Lydia._

She shook her head and shut her eyes. No, it wasn't real; it couldn't be. She felt Isaac gently shake her arm, could hear him calling her name, but it was as if she was drowning. She couldn't get the oxygen in; it was as if the air was running away from her. Her eyes flew open, and she briefly observed that Stiles had disappeared again before realizing that she wasn't breathing. Isaac was shaking her shoulders, his voice becoming frantic as she dropped to her knees. She felt the tears in her eyes, still entirely focused on Stiles instead of the matter at hand. She knew what was happening, understood right away that she was having a panic attack, but she couldn't focus; she guessed lack of oxygen would do that to a person.

Isaac knelt down in front of her and cradled her face in his hands. "You're okay, Lydia, you're okay." She shook her head wildly. She was the farthest thing from okay right now.

"Look at me, Lydia," He grabbed her chin and placed her hand over his heart. "Breathe, Lydia. Breathe with me."

He took exaggerated huffs of air and she copied his actions before she slowly felt her lungs begin to open up again. She fell against his chest, and he sighed before hoisting her up off the grass. As he led her to some truck he had hijacked shortly after Allison's death, she could only hold her hand to her head. What was happening to her?

…

They were sipping at their drinks (they were really just eyeing each other from across the table), her heels tapping against the tile floor as her brain pushed itself into overdrive. Lydia couldn't think, couldn't feel anything. She had _seen_ him, even heard him say her name. She couldn't have imagined it twice, could she? Could the constant deaths have driven her crazy? She figured it was possible, by this point; they had been through so much. Isaac was watching her over his mug, biting at his lip nervously. She was trying to ignore him, trying to ignore the questioning gaze he had fixed her with since they'd left the school property, but he was so damn persistent.

"Fine," She finally snapped. "Just quit looking at me like that."

His expression didn't change, and she began to wonder if he had transformed into some werewolf statue (this was Beacon Hills, after all), but then he blinked and sighed before leaning against the back of his chair.

"What the hell was that?" He finally asked. "At school, I mean. You were fine, and then you weren't."

"I've had a lot to deal with," She brushed it off. She drained the rest of her tea in an attempt to divert his attention away from her face, just to make him stop giving her that pitiful stare.

"No," He argued. "You looked like you'd seen a ghost."

Well, in a manner of speaking. She tensed up before smiling and looking at him like he was crazy. "It was just a panic attack. It happens."

He, however, to her dismay, had caught the slight change in her posture, had heard the slight change in her heartbeat. "Did you see something?"

"No, it was nothing," Her answer was too quick, and both of them knew it. She knew he had caught onto her, had surely heard the automatic change in her heartbeat, but that wasn't going to stop her from denying it. Nobody could know about what she was seeing; it might not have even been real. It sure as hell looked real, sounded real, but that didn't mean it was. She knew she saw things ordinary people didn't, even saw things most supernatural couldn't, but she was still just a girl. She could've just imagined the entire thing, and if that was the case, why open her mouth about it? It would only hurt everyone more in the end. It was just too soon.

His eyes narrowed. "You're lying. What did you see?"

She shook her head, feeling like a bobble head. "Nothing, Isaac. Alright? Nothing."

He knew he should've taken that as his cue to stop pushing, but he couldn't help it. He _knew_ she was hiding something, something she was scared to talk about; he had picked up on that much. "I get that you're scared to talk about it, you know. After living with my dad for so long," He paused and let out a quiet, bitter laugh. "Well, let's just say I know how you feel. But you can talk to me."

She wasn't sure she was used to this side of the werewolf; she was used to the one that was constantly sassy, constantly fighting with Stiles. Well, he used to anyway. The depressing thought had entered her mind like a plague. She blinked a few times and glanced up at him.

"I'm fine, Isaac, really."

He held his hands up in surrender. "Whatever you say. But don't think for a second that you're a good liar because you're not. You suck, really."

"Yeah?" She snapped. "Good thing I've got practice at sucking."

She threw her empty cup onto the table and yanked her jacket off the back of her chair before stomping out into the cold wind. He sat there stunned for a few seconds at her improv innuendo before shaking his head and chasing after her.

He found her walking down the street, completely abandoning his stolen pickup. She had her hat pulled tightly over her head, her cheeks red in anger. She wasn't really angry, though. She knew he was getting close to the truth, closer than she would've liked.

"Lydia, come on," He groaned from behind. "I'm sorry, alright?"

She ignored him, her head held high against the cold. They weren't that far from her house, maybe five minutes. She figured she could man out the cold for that long, as long as it meant she didn't have to get back into his truck, didn't have to ignore his pleas for her to let him in. She felt him tugging at her hand, suddenly at her side, forcing her to stop. She refused to meet his eyes, refused to acknowledge the fact that he wasn't oblivious. The panic attack she had had was coming back to bite her in the ass, and she knew that if she hadn't had it, none of this would even be happening.

"Would you please just get in the truck? It's cold," He gave her a pointed look, but she shook her head.

"I'll be fine. My house is five minutes away."

"At least let me drive you there," He begged, stopping her as she tried to move again. She titled her head at the sky and silently groaned.

"Fine, Isaac."

…

Lydia wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but the dead silence she was met with was certainly not it. Her house was eerily silent, the shadows the walls cast looking too dark, too creepy. She didn't know why she hadn't just gone back to Scott's house; she knew her mom was going to be out of town the next month, sipping on tropical drinks out in Puerto Rico.

She felt slightly guilty for being so bitchy with Isaac, but he had gotten too close, had pushed her too far. She felt like she was slowly losing her mind, slowly letting the voices and darkness consume her just as it had Meredith, and look where that got her. Lydia couldn't imagine killing herself, but is that what it would come to? Or better yet, would the assassins get to her first? Isaac had heard news from Derek who had claimed to have gotten to and killed at least four of the assassins, but there seemed to be so many of them, and so little of the pack. There was also still Kate to worry about, the bitch and her berserker friends still roaming around unharmed while her niece lay underneath the ground in a casket. Sometimes Lydia wondered if she even knew Allison was dead.

Lydia completely froze, sheer fear taking over her body as the upstairs floor creaked. With Kira still at school, she had no choice but to quickly text Isaac and let him know what was going on, before she left the house just as soon as she had entered it. If it was an assassin, she would already be dead, right? Wasn't that how it worked?

She found herself at the stage of mourning where all she could feel was anger. Anger aimed solidly at the goddamn assassins. She had faced werewolves, her boyfriend being a giant lizard, being forced to bring back an evil werewolf from the dead, an alpha pack, a crazy Darach, a group of demon ninjas, and even the nogitsune who had possessed a very close friend of hers, thank you very much. She wasn't about to let a group of _humans_ kill off the pack. They had taken Stiles away, had killed him without a second thought, simply for the money. They had probably even enjoyed the thrill of it, had probably relished in the fact that they'd gotten away with killing a weak, little human with a baseball bat as his only weapon on the night of the full moon, the night where all the wolves had been protecting Stiles with all they had.

Somehow, it hadn't been enough, and Lydia couldn't understand how the assassins had gotten through not only Derek and Liam, but Kira and Scott as well. Kira and Scott would've fought with as much as they had because Stiles dying was simply not an option; it just couldn't happen. Except it did. And that's what puzzled her. Scott refused to open up about it, though, and she didn't blame him.

By the time Isaac had arrived, it had been at least two minutes; he had just run there (running was faster for him than driving was).

"What's wrong? What's happening?" He asked, not even out of breath. She pointed up at the upstairs window, afraid to say anything in case someone was up there. She knew Isaac was strong, but she was just a banshee. Isaac wasn't even on the list, but his sudden arrival in town had probably piqued the interest of the benefactor, anyway.

Isaac made a move to enter the house, but Lydia grabbed the side of his jacket and yanked him back, hard. "Are you absolutely insane?"

He scrunched up his nose. "Are you? I have claws and fangs; I'll be alright."

"No, you won't!" She held firmly onto his pocket. "These people got past not only Kira and Liam, but Derek and Scott too. You're _one_ werewolf. It's not worth the risk."

Isaac wanted to protest, wanted to argue against her, but he knew she was right. Stiles had been the ultimate prize, apparently, for them to knock out three wolves and a kitsune just to get to him. Lydia hastily walked away from the house, Isaac easily keeping pace with her. She refused to look back, forced herself to keep moving, getting away from her own house her top priority.

If she would've looked back for just the slightest second, she would've seen Stiles standing in front of the window, watching her.

…

Lydia was shocked to find Scott sitting on the couch in the living room, his feet resting on top of the coffee table, but then she met Melissa's eyes from across the room and immediately got it. Clearly, Mama McCall had a way with words. The silence Lydia was met with was deafening, and it wasn't until she took a seat next to Scott that Isaac cleared his throat.

"So were you gonna tell him or should I?" The beta questioned, raising a knowing eyebrow at her.

"What are you talking about?" Scott made a face. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," She reassured him, glaring at Isaac. "Really, it's nothing."

Isaac snorted and leaned towards Scott. "She's in denial."

Alright, that was enough. Lydia stood up and huffed in annoyance. "Right, well, since you know best, I guess I'll leave you to it."

It wasn't Isaac's annoyed apologies that stopped her, but Scott's arm, his expression broken. It was as if he already knew. "Please."

She didn't want to explain, didn't want to hurt him further, because she knew –oh, she _definitely_ knew- that it would only worsen the damage that had already been done. But she couldn't just not tell him; Stiles was his best friend. Didn't he deserve to know that she was seeing his dead best friend, that she was nearly being haunted by him? Isaac gazed at her expectantly as she slowly nodded her head and allowed Scott to pull her to the couch.

"Seriously, what's going on?" The alpha asked, his eyes searching her face for the answers he so desperately craved. He needed a distraction, something, anything, that he could help with.

Lydia bit her lip nervously, her heart beat speeding up, alarming both the wolves in the room. They remained silent, however.

"I don't know what it is," She shrugged helplessly, "I don't know if it's my imagination or if it's the fact that I'm a banshee, but I just." She paused and glanced up at Scott's apprehensive face. This was it. Was she really going to do this to him?

"I'm overwhelmed by the voices all the time now and it's driving me crazy. It's creating hallucinations; people I don't even know are asking for help," She lied easily. She watched them both, waiting to see if she had fooled them.

"Oh," Scott coughed, "Well, I mean, maybe we can go see Deaton."

Thank God. Isaac was still staring at her, though, and she couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen past her lie. He knew more than he was saying.

…

Lydia wanted so badly to pretend like it was all fake, like she was just crazy. She didn't ask to be a banshee, and she definitely didn't ask to be haunted by her dead friend. Against her wishes, Scott had kept true to his word and had taken her to see Deaton (she could've gone by herself, thank you very much), Isaac unwillingly staying behind to watch over Melissa and make sure the assassins didn't try to harm another human that was close to the alpha.

Deaton hadn't known how to deal with it, only suggesting that Lydia keep her mind open and only let those in that she trusted. She hadn't expected him to know much, though. The truth was, she knew exactly who she was going to have to pay a visit, and she knew Scott and Isaac weren't going to go for it. It was really too bad that she wasn't going to wait for their permission.

"I really don't like this," Kira said for the hundredth time as the two girls made their way to Derek's loft. "I really, _really_ don't like this."

Lydia stopped at the entrance and shot the other girl a look. She had brought Kira along as backup aware that if blue-eyed werewolf who had started this all tried to do anything, they'd at least have a sliver of a chance. It pained her to know that the last time she had even set foot in this place had been with Allison, but she wasn't going to focus on the past. Today she was going to figure out what the hell was going on, and Peter Hale was her best chance.

The door was yanked open, said werewolf wearing a smug expression. "Ah, Lydia. I was waiting for the day that you'd finally come back for my help."

Lydia rolled her eyes and pushed her way inside the loft, Kira hesitantly following behind her. Peter clapped his hands together and the girls turned to face him, wary of being anywhere near the way too arrogant ex-alpha.

"What can I do for you?"

His condescending tone grated on her; it always had. She wanted nothing more than to leave, but she needed answers, needed to understand more about herself. Peter had been around for a while, and he'd clearly known what he was doing when he made her bring him back to life; there was absolutely no way that he wouldn't have an answer to this.

"You happen to know a lot about banshees and that, ignoring the fact that that is extremely suspicious, is something I'm interested in," She responded coolly, not about to let him know that she was somewhat nervous to be around him even if she had Kira with her.

He had his strength back, which put things in a different perspective for her. She didn't want to be afraid of him, not after everything she'd gone through after he came back, but it was instinctive. Kira had absolutely no idea what she was up against, creating another problem for Lydia, but she needed backup. Kira and Liam had been the only two options, and it wasn't until that moment that she realized just how alone she really was.

"And you need my help," He concluded, raising an eyebrow. "But why would I want to help you?"

"Because you need me."

He actually laughed, the sound being carried throughout the large room. "Really? Why is that?"

"Because you need Malia," She guessed. "You want to talk to her."

The laughter died immediately, Peter's cocky grin wiped off his face. "What is it that you want, banshee?"

"I've been…seeing someone, lately. Someone that's supposed to be dead."

"How do you know he isn't alive?" Peter quipped, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.

"Because I just know, okay?" She snapped. "He's dead, and I can see him. I've seen him twice, now; I've heard his voice too."

Kira whipped her head around to shoot an incredulous look at Lydia, but the banshee ignored her.

Peter raised his eyebrows. "Have you tried to talking to him?"

Lydia should've expected an answer like this, should've expected him to point out the obvious, because really, why hadn't she talked to Stiles? He had been there twice; it wasn't like she didn't have the chance. Peter watched her, sensing the quick switches of her emotions and smirked.

"You haven't, have you? You've been in denial," He circled around her. "You wanted to believe so badly that it was just your imagination that you blew it off."

Kira grabbed at the blade that was tucked safely under her leather jacket, but Peter held up a hand.

"You actually fooled yourself into believing you were just mourning his death," He sounded surprised at the least. "And I have the slightest idea that I know exactly who you've been seeing."

"Come on, Kira. Let's go," Lydia made a move to grab the other girl's arm, desperate to get away from the wolf's prying, but Kira didn't budge.

"You've been seeing Stiles," She asked, though it sounded much more like a statement. Lydia didn't want to have this conversation here, not in front of the man who terrorized her and made her think she was losing her mind. How ironic that she was doing that to herself, now.

"You haven't even gotten the answers you came for," Peter pointed out.

She wished he wasn't so right, wished that she wouldn't have had to resort as low as getting answers from _Peter._ "I didn't see you exactly offering the answers."

He looked somewhat impressed and nodded his head. "Let him in, talk to him. Don't shut him out."

She bit her lip anxiously. Letting him in meant dealing with the problem, dealing with the fact that Stiles was dead, that he was trying to talk to her. Did she really want that?

"I think it's time to go," Kira said softly, grabbing Lydia's hand. They were barely out the door when Peter's irritatingly calm voice stopped them.

"You'll get Malia to talk to me, Lydia. She is, after all, my daughter."

Lydia blinked slowly before nodding her head. And just like that, the door was shut as if it had never happened.

"Does Scott know?" were the first words out of Kira's mouth as soon as they had put at least ten feet between themselves and the loft. Lydia shook her head slowly.

"No. I didn't know if it was real; I didn't want him to get his hopes up for nothing."

Kira furrowed her eyebrows. She opened her mouth to reply, but Lydia shook her head. She knew where they needed to go; it was the only sane place Lydia felt like she would be able to talk to Stiles without feeling completely and utterly insane. The cemetery.

…

"You don't even have to leave, but _please_ let me do this on my own," She begged as the two girls made their way around the headstones.

"Can't you just do this in your room or anywhere slightly less creepy, for that matter?"

Lydia shot her look, and Kira held up her hands in surrender. She knew better than to pick a fight with Lydia Martin. She slowly backed up and headed towards an old family member's grave that wasn't too terribly far away, leaving Lydia alone to do her thing.

The banshee had been preparing herself the entire walk here, had even been practicing different scenarios in her head, but as soon as she caught sight of the headstone, she lost all focus. She lightly pressed her fingers to his name and then the engraving.

_Loved son, friend._

He wasn't supposed to be dead. This was the first time she had visited his grave, and it still felt like it was too soon. A month ago, he was up and moving, and now here he was. Dead.

She felt his presence before she caught sight of him, lounging easily on one of the stones to her right. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath; she had to let him in.

_Lydia._

Even as she heard the voice, she continued to chant in her head the same phrase over and over again: let him in, let him in, let him in. She opened one eye, slightly afraid that it hadn't worked, and was met with a small smile.

"Stiles?" She held a hand out and moved closer. He was still adorned with the same outfit he'd had on the last night she'd seen him, his familiar blue flannel hanging at his sides. She realized with a pang that it hurt to look at him, to see him moving and speaking like he was still alive, when he was really buried underground in a casket.

_You can see me._

It wasn't a question, but a statement. He sounded glad, almost as if he'd been trying for entirely too long without success. She nodded her head, surprised at the moisture in her eyes.

"I'm sorry it took me so long."

He pushed himself off the stone and walked towards her, his eyes no longer sparked with life, no longer tinged with color. He moved until he was only inches away from her.

_Did you really have go to Peter for help?_

If he'd been alive, she would've rolled her eyes at his overbearing protectiveness of those in his pack (it wasn't like he could've stopped her), but this time she only smiled sheepishly at it.

"You saw that?"

_Lydia, I've seen everything._

She couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow. "Is that your way of telling me you've watched me in the shower?"

He started sputtering, his eyes wide.

_That's not what I- shit, I didn't mean- I-_

She cut him off with a grin and laughed slightly, "Shut up Stiles." She couldn't help the tears, couldn't help but cry at the fact that she was able to talk to him again. Maybe being a banshee had its perks. He tilted his head as if he was studying her, observing her from every angle. She'd grown used to things like this, even if she did secretly miss them when he and Malia got together.

"Why aren't you haunting Malia?" She asked sudden realization in her tone. Malia had been his girlfriend; maybe she deserved to talk to him.

He shook his head helplessly in such a Stiles manner that it made her want to smile again.

_I've tried. Nobody can hear me; nobody can see me. Except you._

Lydia couldn't help but feel like she had been a last choice and winced slightly. He didn't seem to notice, though, as he paced through the cemetery, casually avoiding the headstones. She watched him, her hands shoved in her coat pockets. It was times like this that she ached to have him back, ached to see little things like this again. She hadn't appreciated all of his quirks until it had been too late, and she would always regret that.

"Stiles," She began her voice shaky, "Why are you still here?"

If it came off as harsh, Stiles didn't mention it.

_I don't know, but I can't leave. I've tried everything. I guess I have unfinished business._

He looked positively helpless, his hands held up in a 'What am I supposed to do now?' gesture. Not only was he hopeless, but now he was alone. At least he was away from the assassins. Lydia paused. The assassins…that was it. That had to be why he was still trapped here.

"It's the assassins, Stiles. That's why you're still here," She exclaimed, surprised at the fact that she hadn't immediately caught onto that.

He froze before he began to nod his head frantically.

_You're right, you have to be right. I- wait. I'll be right back._

He disappeared, and she was left alone.

"Lydia, come on! We have to go!" Kira was yelling form a distance, running towards her with more force than she ever thought she could've mustered. Lydia took in the sight of the berserkers, only about ten feet behind her. She felt Kira's cold hand grip her own, the two girls setting off for the direction of Scott's house.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Lydia cursed as they ran. The last thing she had on her mind was Kate Argent and her little pets. Kira kept running, kept pulling the banshee along until they had finally reached their destination. Lydia nearly ripped the door off its hinges in her haste to get in, Kira following suit.

She was leaning on her knees, breathing deeply when a trio of wolves appeared in front of the girls. Liam stood in between Isaac and Scott, resembling a lost puppy, his eyes focused on Kira.

"Berserkers."

…

Nobody could figure out why Kate and her pets hadn't followed the girls in, absolutely positive that they could've ripped apart the house if they wished. The conversation had turned into a debate, Liam and Scott arguing with Isaac and Kira. Lydia stayed out of the entire thing, her mind still focused on Stiles. She had no idea where he had gone and was worried that he was getting himself into something because that's what Stiles always did. That would never change even if he was a ghost. Nobody had noticed her silence until Isaac (of course it was him) opened his mouth and pointed it out. They had all turned to face her then, and she shot a look towards Kira, hoping that the kitsune would get the message and wouldn't open up about why they'd been in the cemetery in the first place.

"Are you okay?" Scott finally asked, kneeling down in front of her. She had taken a seat on the air mattress that occupied the living room, the other seats being taken by the arguing wolves and kitsune.

She nodded her head immediately; well, she wasn't completely lying. She wasn't sure she was okay, wasn't sure she was feeling much of anything. Between visiting Peter Hale, seeing and talking to a dead Stiles again, and getting chased out of the cemetery by the berserkers, she had had a rough day.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

Isaac made a face and glanced up at the alpha. "Are we just not going to mention how we tracked their scent to Derek's loft?"

Scott awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. "I was trying to let things calm down first."

"Well, I think it's pretty calm now," Isaac insisted, turning to gaze at Lydia. "So, do you want to explain?"

She felt a sudden surge of anger rip through her entire body, and she made an angry noise. "Last time I checked, you weren't my mother."

"It's not like that," Scott tried to say, but the banshee held up a hand.

"No, it's exactly like that. I don't need your constant protection; I don't need everyone to save me _all_ the time," She ranted, her face getting red. "I'm not a damsel in distress, and none of you are Superman."

She eyed all three wolves, keeping her glare focused on Isaac the longest. He was by far the nosiest out of the three, always getting into her business, always butting in. She didn't remember him being so damn overbearing before Allison died.

"You went to _Peter._ You know him, right? Psychotic, power-hungry Peter," Isaac argued, his voice rising. "There are a bunch of killers who are hunting specifically for the supernatural roaming the streets; was visiting Peter the best idea?"

"He's got a point," Scott added in, unfazed by Lydia's sharp glare. "Why didn't you talk to us?"

"Because I don't need your permission! I'm not a child! I was perfectly fine before you guys entered my life, and I'm perfectly fine now."

The entire room melted into silence, Scott still looking concerned for her well-being despite the harsh words. Lydia glanced up and caught Stiles's eyes at the top of the stairs, his eyebrows raised slightly.

_You guys are a mess without me._

She didn't acknowledge his comment, instead refocused her attention on the rather persistent beta to her left. "I don't understand why you're suddenly so interested in my well-being."

"You're part of the pack" was his answer, a slight shrug following the words. She wanted to scream; she was so frustrated, so annoyed. She wished she could step outside and get some air, get away from the intensity the room had cooked up, but she couldn't. Not without there always being a constant threat, something to always give her reason to stay inside. She was tired of fighting because that's all they did anymore. Fight, fight, fight. And for what? They had fought, and Allison still ended up dead. Aiden had fought, and now he was dead. Nearly every single member of the pack had fought, but Stiles was still dead. What the point of fighting when it got you nothing but the death you tried so hard to prevent?

"Maybe I don't want to be a part of it," She stated, tired. She was just so tired of it all; she just needed a break.

Scott froze, his face framed with guilt. Lydia closed her eyes slightly as she exited the room, somehow ending up in Scott's currently unoccupied room. She fell back against his bed; when had his house started feeling more like home than her own had ever?

She closed her eyes tightly, unsuccessfully trying to escape it all for just a little while. She wasn't spared that luxury, though, as she heard Stiles sigh from across the room.

_Did you really mean that?_

His voice sounded so broken, so guilty that she had to open up her eyes. She shrugged.

_I feel like I got you involved in all of this._

Lydia nearly snorted, her eyes widening slightly. "Stiles, my boyfriend was a lizard. I'm a banshee, anyway. I would've found out one way or another."

He lay down on the bed, resting his head on the pillow beside her. His lips were barely inches from her own, and she felt the sudden urge to kiss him, just to see what it feels like. But she couldn't do that now. Why? Because he was dead.

Stiles watched her, his face unreadable as she leaned forward, unaware of her own actions. She moved as close as she could without physically touching her lips to his. She looked down for a moment, and when she met his gaze again, she was unsurprised to feel tears.

"We need you, Stiles. It's not the same," She said hoarsely.

He nodded his head slightly and gulped before looking down. _I found her._

"Found who?"

He sighed. _The one who killed me. The only assassin who got away that night._

Lydia stilled, her shoulders tensing up as she abruptly sat up. "Where the hell is she?"

_Don't do anything rash, not yet. She's been staying at some motel a few blocks over._

She made a move to stand up, but he was suddenly in front of her, blocking her path, and she didn't care to know if she walk through him. "Stiles, move. The bitch who _killed_ you is still out and alive! Not to mention that she's still in Beacon Hills!"

_You have to tell him._

Lydia decided that playing dumb was better than fighting against him. "Tell who?"

She should've known he wasn't going to be that easily deterred.

_You know who, Lydia. He deserves to know. He needs to._

Stiles sounded pained, his voice cracking a bit at the end. She realized that not only had he been watching her, but Scott too. Scott had been like his brother; they were best friends for so long. She had known from the start that it was wrong to keep it from Scott, but she was afraid it would rip open the mending hole Stiles's death had made. She tried not to focus on the fact that after they killed his killer, Stiles would no longer have a reason to stay.

_Lydia, please._

…

Scott was broken, his entire body shaking as he held his head in his hands. Lydia had been right; it had torn him apart.

None of their reactions had been quite as bad as Scott's, but she supposed that was understandable. Liam had actually looked somewhat impressed with Lydia's openness as she had explained everything. Kira was rubbing soothing circles along her boyfriend's back, her head resting against his arm, while Isaac was leaning against the wall, rubbing his chin in surprise.

"Is he here right now?" Scott asked, surprising everyone in the room. Nobody had expected him to talk so soon, not after he had shut down so quickly the last time.

Lydia smiled sadly and nodded her head, pointing a shaky finger to Scott's left where a crying Stiles currently sat. He didn't try to hide tears; Lydia was the only one who could see them anyway. Scott looked in that direction, not quite meeting Stiles's eyes, but it was close enough.

"Stiles, buddy, I miss you. You're my brother. It's just," He paused and took a shaky breath, "It's not the same. How am I supposed to keep going without you? How is the pack supposed to handle everything without your brain?"

_It'll all be okay in the end._

Lydia relayed the message, and Scott nodded his head and wiped at his eyes.

"His killer is still in Beacon Hills," She pointed out before Stiles could stop her. He whipped his head around to look at her, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. She knew that out of anyone Scott would be the most furious. He would help her go after the assassin, no questions asked. Who cared about plans when there was a pack of wolves with claws at your side? The assassin wouldn't be able to fight them all; she'd had help when she went after Stiles. One way or another, she was going to die.

The room went silent, the sound of Scott's heavy breathing being the only sound. "She what?"

Lydia nodded her head, ignoring Stiles as he continued to shake his head, his protests growing louder. "She's staying at some motel not too far from here."

Scott didn't bother responding and instead stood up, Lydia following suit. Isaac loyally followed after the alpha, but Kira and Liam stayed seated.

"Aren't you coming?" Scott directed towards the two looking confused. Lydia couldn't understand why they weren't eager to help; it made her angry. Stiles's killer was sitting at some motel, probably gloating in the fact that she'd killed him, while they all sat around doing nothing. It was preposterous.

"Well," Liam trailed off, "Weren't you always saying it's always best to have a plan before you walk into things?"

Stiles nodded his head frantically, applauding the beta's words.

_So glad someone has sense around here._

"Stiles, shut up," Lydia barked, everyone immediately stopping to look at her. "He agrees with Liam."

"She killed you, Stiles! You're _gone_ because of her!" Scott fought, his anger quickly getting the best of him. "How can you tell us not to go after her?"

_She's an armed killer; she's better than most. She'll kill you all. You __**need**__ a plan._

Lydia quickly, and irritably, relayed the message and Scott's anger seemed to fizzle out.

"What if we give her a distraction?" Liam suggested and shrugged. "You guys always use distractions."

"We could make her think the infamous true alpha is right outside; that's what they all want, obviously. He's worth the most money," Isaac pointed out, speaking for the first time in a while.

"How would we do that without actually putting Scott in danger?" Kira joined the debate, "I'll do anything as long as it doesn't involve shocking him to near death and then back to life."

_She leaves every day at 3:00 to go scouting, looking for easy kills probably._

Stiles shrugged, ignoring Lydia's expression.

"Do you just sit and watch her?"

He rolled his eyes. _Please. I have better things to with my time. I'm a ghost but that doesn't mean I don't have a social life._ He lifted his hand up in a rather girly motion, and Lydia snorted.

"What exactly are you suggesting we do?"

_Get in the motel while she's gone. She's alone, but she's smart. You may need Derek's help._

Lydia turned to face the rest of the pack who had all watched the strange exchange, their eyes wide. "She leaves every day at 3:00. We might need Derek's help."

Isaac immediately shook his head. "Derek's out. He's somewhere in Chicago with Malia."

"So we bring Chris Argent along instead," Scott suggested, "Assassin or not, she won't be able to take him down."

Everyone nodded their head at that; they all knew Chris Argent was a badass, even harder to control after he lost Allison. Lydia couldn't help but think about the Sheriff; nobody had seen him for days, not since the wake. He'd been locked up in his own home, and she couldn't help but wonder if Stiles had gone to visit him yet.

"When are going through with this?" Isaac questioned.

"It's too late now," Kira spoke up, "But I'm ready whenever you are."

Everyone subconsciously seemed to look at Scott, looking to him for the answers as always. He was the alpha and whether he wanted to see it or not, everyone depended on him.

"Tomorrow," He swallowed. "Tomorrow, we kill her."

"So no distractions then?" Liam asked, slightly dejected that his idea hadn't gone anywhere.

"We won't need one."

…

Kira and Liam had gone home, and Isaac and Scott had both headed upstairs, leaving Lydia and Stiles alone in the living room. Melissa had entered a few minutes after the plan had been set, everyone awkwardly waving at her as she greeted them. She had passed out in her room, and if she had suspected anything, she hadn't voiced her thoughts.

Lydia was lying on her back, her hair fanned out around her. Stiles was lying beside her with his arms crossed under his head. He wasn't looking at her, but was instead focusing intently on the ceiling.

"Have you gone to see him yet?" She asked after a while. It didn't take a genius to know who she was talking about.

_What's the use? He can't see me, anyway._

"Stiles, he's your dad. Maybe it'll put your mind at ease," She shrugged. She knew he needed to go see him before it was too late, before he moved on from this world.

_What, watching him drink himself to death? _

She pursed her lips and nodded her head. "You know, Melissa's been watching over him since, well, you know. She's not going to let him do anything."

Stiles closed his eyes and breathed deeply before flipping on his side to face the banshee. _Why do you always know the right thing to say?_

"I don't," She paused, "I say a lot of stupid things, actually."

Stiles laughed aloud at that, and she glanced over at him in surprise. _Lydia, there's never been anything that's come out of your mouth that's been stupid._

"And you said I was the one who always knew what to say," She quipped, giving him a knowing look. She could feel herself starting to move closer to him again, but she stopped herself before she came into contact with him, still not ready to know if she'd go through him. That would make it all too real. For now, she was just willing to pretend that he was still alive, and that he wasn't haunting her as a ghost.

If he would've been alive, she was sure he would've been blushing. He was sputtering, looking anywhere but her.

"I mean it, you know," She said after a while, "You always know how to make me feel better."

He glanced down at her, surprised. _I just say what I already know. _

"And what do you already know?"

_That despite what you think, you're smart and beautiful, and that's never going to change._

She bit her lip, feeling somewhat touched by his words. They wouldn't have meant much to her a year ago, but now she craved them. That wasn't to say that she was fishing for compliments, but she adored when it was him who complimented her, because he was the only one who meant what he said. He was the only guy who had ever called her beautiful, the only guy who had her figured out before she had even begun acknowledging his existence.

He was the only one who stood by her even after she had been a bitch to him most their lives. She couldn't understand what she had done to deserve someone like him, a friend like him. The word 'friend' weighed her heart down, and she seemed to deflate at that. He had chosen Malia over her. Granted, Lydia hadn't exactly fought for him, but that didn't mean she didn't miss him, didn't get jealous over the relationship every now and then.

_What's wrong?_

He made a move to push back a strand of her hair but pulled back at the last minute. She blinked a few times.

"Nothing, I just," She could feel the tears welling up because whether he was here now or not, he was still dead, and he wasn't coming back. "I miss you."

His expression immediately softened. _I'm always going to be watching over you._

"But you're dead, Stiles!" She cried. "You're dead."

_Fifty years from now, you're going to have some kind of award, probably more than just one. You'll have a husband and kids, even grandchildren. I want that for you._

She immediately shook her head. "But you won't get any of that."

She didn't bother to wait for a response because she knew that one way or another, there would be tears. She flipped onto her side, her back to Stiles.

His voice was the last thing she heard before she drifted off.

_I'm always going to love you, Lydia._

…

Stiles had been right; the assassin had left at around 3:00, Liam and Lydia keeping watch while the other three minus Chris Argent (they hadn't been able to get ahold of him, as it turned out) had snuck into the motel, successfully snatching all of her weapons.

"What the hell is-?"

"Don't touch that!"

She had then heard a buzzing noise and decided that Isaac had successfully shocked himself. Wonderful. Stiles stood with her, shooting Liam looks the entire time.

_He's barely even paying attention. Why is he out here? Why isn't Isaac watching you instead? Or even Kira? I'd prefer Kira, really._

Lydia had rolled her eyes but had remained silent, refusing to comment on his obvious dislike for both Liam and Isaac. She and Liam had been waiting for close to ten minutes before Isaac had pulled them both deeper into the small room, making sure the door was shut and locked just the way it had been before the assassin left.

Stiles followed them in, quickly warning Lydia that the killer was coming. They all took their spots, Scott standing in front of them all, his anger fueling him on. The doorknob jiggled a few times before the door was pushed open and the light was flicked on.

She had barely crossed the threshold before Scott had her by the neck, his claws leaving bloody marks. He shoved her against the wall, and she dropped everything out of her hands.

"What's your name?" He growled as she fought against his grip. Kira closed her eyes slightly, unwilling to watch her boyfriend kill, even if this girl did deserve it.

"Go to hell," She spat out between breaths, and his grip only tightened.

"Wait," She coughed, "Please."

His grip loosened, but barely. He had never pictured himself as a killer, and Lydia knew that, but she also knew he wasn't going to hold back this time, not with Stiles's killer in his hands.

"Maria, my name is Maria."

"You killed my best friend, _Maria_," He growled her name, his eyes flashing a very angry shade of red.

_Don't let him kill her!_

Stiles's voice was frantic, as if he could sense what was about to happen. He moved towards Lydia, his eyes wild. _Stop him, please!_

The killer, Maria, stopped struggling against the alpha's grasp just as Lydia yanked at his shirt.

"You're not a killer, Scott! Don't let her turn you into one," She begged, watching as he slowly began to realize what he was doing. Scott backed up slightly as he dropped Maria to the floor.

_He's not a killer. He can't do that to himself._

Scott looked down at the blood on his hands and flinched. He didn't hesitate to hastily leave the small motel room, Stiles disappearing after him. Liam followed, not even bearing a glance at the bloody mess of a girl who was choking up blood on the floor.

"Oh, look, sunshine's still alive," Isaac commented, grabbing her arm and hoisting her up. "Now, give me one reason why we shouldn't kill you."

Maria brushed the back of her hand against her mouth and flipped her small side bangs out of her eyes. "I can help you."

Isaac laughed darkly. "Oh, I doubt that."

She nodded her head at Lydia. "Let me talk to the banshee."

"Sorry, that's not an option," Isaac smiled a little. "But killing you is."

"No, wait," Lydia stopped him, almost in a trance. "Let me talk to her."

She had no idea what she was doing or why she was suddenly trying to pry the girl out of Isaac's arms.

She didn't understand why everyone in the room besides Maria was suddenly lying on the floor. Maria grinned up at her, teeth stained with blood.

"You don't even know how powerful you are, do you?"

Lydia looked around the room, her eyes wide. What had she just done? As Maria pushed herself up off the floor again, the banshee instinctively stepped back.

"What did you do? What did you _do?"_

Maria laughed. "Oh, that wasn't me. That was all you, sweetheart. They're only sleeping."

"How can you help?" Lydia switched topics, scared of her own powers, scared to talk about them because that made it real.

"I know how to bring him back."

Lydia gaped, before her jaw set in an angry line. "No, you don't. That's impossible."

"Is it?" The smaller girl leaned against the wall for support and laughed slightly. "You brought Peter Hale back to life. Bringing a human back would be even easier."

"Why should I trust you? What makes you think I won't just kill you now?"

Maria raised an eyebrow. "Because I'm the only hope you have. Because you'd do anything to bring him back."

Lydia wished she wasn't right, but she was. God dammit, she was.

"Kate Argent has been trying to do the same thing for several weeks now and didn't want anyone to know," Maria added, "That's why she chased you out of the graveyard."

Lydia reeled back. How long exactly had this girl been watching them? She refused to let the assassin know just how much that freaked her out.

"Don't worry," Maria rolled her eyes, "I was after Kate, not you and your kitsune friend. Kate's trying to bring her niece back to life. I believe you know her, actually. Allison?"

Dread filled in Lydia's stomach, and she felt the sudden urge to throw up. "Keep going before I kill you myself."

"As you wish, princess," Maria mock bowed and rolled her eyes. "Kate can't complete the spell because she doesn't have the last ingredient, doesn't even know what it is."

"And what is it?"

"You."

…

Maria had explained the process to her and in exchange for her and her friends' lives, Lydia had let her go. She could care less if a rogue hunter was running around Beacon Hills, as long as she and the pack weren't in danger. Scott and Liam reentered the motel room not long after Maria's departure, both holding hands to their heads.

"What the hell happened?" Scott groaned. It didn't take him long to realize the assassin had escaped and he immediately turned to face Lydia. "Where'd she go?"

"I don't know," Lydia responded, playing it off as if she had been knocked out as well. "I think she got away."

There was a chorus of moans as the remaining two pack members slowly stood up, both cracking their backs in the process.

"Where _is _she?" Isaac cried out, noticing right away that Maria was gone. "I just remember grabbing her and then…I don't know. I can't remember anything else."

"She probably did something to us," Lydia rolled her eyes. She was finding it easier to lie with every second. She wasn't worried about them catching onto her; no, what she was worried about was where the hell Stiles had gone. She had absolutely no idea what she had done to everyone, had no idea she was even that powerful.

With defeated sighs, the pack gathered all of Maria's weapons off the floor and began the disappointing ride home.

…

It had been days, and Stiles still hadn't returned, but that didn't matter now. Tonight was the night it would all go down, the night Stiles would be brought back to life. How fitting that it was on the night of a full moon. The only thing she had to worry about was sneaking past Isaac and Scott, which she was positive was going to be a problem.

She was right.

"I like shopping," Isaac argued.

"Fine, then I'm getting coffee," She yelled out, exasperated. He had been trying to find a way to come with her for minutes now, minutes she couldn't afford to lose. She only had until midnight to bring Stiles back, and it was already 10:30.

"I can deal with coffee," He shrugged, unwilling to just let her go.

"Isaac, I just want to be alone, alright? God," She snapped. Scott leaned against the wall beside the door and watched her.

"Did something happen?" He asked, concerned. Lydia could've killed them both in that moment. It was nice to know they both cared, but _Jesus._ She could barely even go the bathroom without them trailing after her, ready to protect her at all times.

"No, Scott, nothing happened," She annunciated slowly. She raised her eyebrows at them, daring them to argue.

She wasn't surprised when Isaac opened his mouth. "Lydia, really, why do you even try to lie?"

He moved closer and arched an eyebrow, crossing his arms in the process. Lydia watched him move around her, aware that he was easily picking up on her emotions. He wasn't stupid, and she wasn't going to pretend like he was. But the thing with Isaac was that the second he suspected something, Scott would too or vice versa. The two went hand in hand much like Scott and Stiles had. _Had._

Lydia shook her head and closed her eyes. If she and the pack wanted to see Stiles ever again, she would have to do this. She had to get past the ever relentless boys that were currently blocking her path or he was going to be lost forever; she had no time for second chances.

"Fine! You caught me; cue the applause, Detective Pain in my Ass," She snapped at Isaac, her anger barely concealed. "I was just going to go see Stiles, tonight, alright?"

Both werewolves stared at her with blank looks, and she sighed. "At the _cemetery._ I wanted to go give him some flowers."

"I wouldn't mind visiting a few other graves," Isaac shrugged, though it was plain to see that he meant Allison's. Scott nodded his head in agreement, and the banshee closed her eyes and took a deep breath; she was running out of time, a lot quicker than she would have imagined. Scott and Isaac were taking up too much of her time, and she guessed she only had about an hour until it was midnight, now. She had no idea how much time it would take for the spell to be completed, and Maria was probably already waiting for her at the cemetery. Maria had gotten the required necessities, and despite the lack of trust for the assassin, Lydia knew she needed her.

"Guys, _please_ just let me-," She opened her eyes and trailed off, her heart pounding hard in her chest as she realized the werewolves had both been knocked out. Lydia pressed a hand to her mouth and swallowed, hard. Just how powerful was she becoming?

She used that to her advantage, though, and wasted no time in running to the cemetery. She hadn't been thinking clearly enough to grab her car, had only been thinking about getting to the cemetery before the boys woke up, before she ran out of time.

"It's about damn time," Maria remarked sourly as Lydia breathlessly found her way to the grave site. Lydia ignored her and leaned against Stiles's headstone.

"Why haven't I seen him?" Lydia asked, realization kicking in. Something was off; was this all just a trap?

"Who, Stiles?" Maria carefully yanked items out of her bag, one by one, setting them all up in a circle.

"_Yes_, Stiles. Who else?"

"Hey, how am I supposed to know just how many dead people you can see at once, banshee?" Maria arched an eyebrow, and Lydia groaned. Why the hell had she allowed her to help her?

"You probably pushed him away," Maria shrugged, "When you knocked your friends unconscious, your energy probably pushed him away, which under these circumstances, is a good thing."

"What do you mean?" Lydia was quickly growing suspicious, anxious even. The clock was ticking, and Maria seemed to be taking her sweet, little time. "And can you _please_ hurry this up?"

Maria rolled her eyes and waved her off. "We'll be fine; there's plenty of time left."

"You didn't answer me," The banshee pointed out, crossing her arms. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing important, really. Just that if Stiles is around while you complete the spell, there could be some…problems. Minor problems, really."

She lit a candle and held a small knife out to Lydia. The strawberry-blonde snatched the knife out of the assassin's grip and quickly made a cut into her palm, allowing a small drop of blood to fall into the flame.

"What kind of minor problems?" She tried to stay calm, tried to hope for the best, but of course there were new complications arising. Of course Maria wouldn't inform her of these complications until directly before.

"Look, don't worry about it, alright? If you want to do this, you have to stay focused or _you_ are going to cause an entirely different problem," Maria stated, shrugging. "Now, get inside the circle so we can start."

Lydia hesitantly moved into the circle Maria had created, reluctant to trust the killer of not just anyone, but of Stiles. She held a hand up, and Maria paused mid-sentence and shot her a look.

"Before we do this, I just want to know one thing."

"What?" Maria growled, clearly done with this entire ordeal. "What could you possibly want to know?"

"Why Stiles? Out of everyone, why the _hell_ did you kill him?" Lydia was calm, though internally she was screaming with rage. Maria was helping the banshee bring Stiles back, sure, but she was still the cause of this all.

Maria bit her lip and glanced down before meeting Lydia's eyes. "I needed the money."

She didn't give Lydia time to respond and instead began the spell. She instructed Lydia on what to do, giving her orders to push out some of her energy every few seconds. Lydia could feel it begin to drain her, could feel herself starting to black out. She knew this was it, but at least everyone else would get to have Stiles back. He was what held the pack together; what was Lydia? She was just a banshee, didn't do much for them.

As she began to fall to her knees, she managed to smile. Being a banshee was a curse, but she had used it to her advantage, and that was something she would always be proud of. And that was when she completely collapsed, her body giving up entirely, her whole world dimming until it had all gone dark.

…

Lydia wasn't sure where she was, wasn't sure what was going on, but as she glanced around and saw her own body lying next to Stiles's headstone, she realized she must be having some kind of out-of-body experience. She was on death's doorstep; this was all just a part of the process. Maria was looking around expectantly, clearly waiting for Lydia to make the next move, when she suddenly grabbed a blade out of her pocket and turned around.

"We don't have much time left; hurry!"

Lydia could see two shapes hurtling themselves towards the assassin, and time seemed to slow down for a moment. Scott and Isaac had arrived.

The banshee quickly read out her part of the spell, and once again allowed herself to slip away into the abyss of darkness. She was positive she saw a glimpse of Stiles, his face torn in agony before it had all disappeared.

…

Stiles had no idea what was happening, had no idea why he could suddenly feel his heart beating in his chest. It didn't him long to notice the problems with the scenery, though. Two girls lay dead in front of his grave, and he couldn't understand why he felt a sudden sense of dread. But then he looked closer. One girl looked vaguely familiar, her red- no, strawberry blonde- hair covering a portion of her face. He pressed his hand against her cheek and flinched when he felt the warmth slowly leaving her body. She had only just died, but why?

He couldn't figure out who she was, but the dread seemed to be filling up inside his chest, almost as if whoever this girl was had been dear to him. He glanced at the other body, this girl's bloody limbs just about dangling off her body, her face unrecognizable underneath the blood, and Stiles winced. He took his attention off the bodies for a mere second and was met by a familiar set of brown eyes.

Scott stood in the clearing, his breathing ragged, his shirt ripped apart as well. Isaac stood somewhat behind him, eyeing Stiles with a child-like fascination. But then he seemed to catch sight of the bodies, and his face twisted up in sorrow.

"Scott?"

Stiles didn't want to hope, didn't want to believe for a second that this was really happening, that he was really here right now. It just didn't make sense; he was _dead_. He couldn't have just come back; it wasn't right. Something was off, and Stiles wasn't stupid enough to believe that he had gotten this lucky.

"Oh God, tell me I'm not hallucinating. Tell me I'm not completely crazy," Stiles pleaded as he took a step towards the alpha. Scott's face softened, and he shook his head.

"If you are, so am I," He shrugged before immediately wrapping his best friend up in a hug. Isaac watched silently from behind and held his face in his hands.

"Who are they?" Stiles questioned as soon as Scott had let go (that had taken forever), pointing his very-alive finger towards the bodies near his grave.

Scott's eyes went wide. "You don't…you don't remember?"

"Uh, no," Stiles laughed slightly. "Should I?"

Both werewolves glanced at each other nervously, debating on how they should answer this. It would be incredibly selfish on their part to even consider allowing Stiles to forget who Lydia was, but on the other hand, it was extremely likely that it would rip him apart because lack of memory or not, that was the type of guy Stiles was and always would be. They knew they'd have to begin explaining things either way, though because they definitely couldn't just wave off the two dead girls as if nothing had even happened.

Stiles was looking at them expectantly, his eyebrows raised up high in expectation of an answer. "Guys?"

"No," Scott said softly, ignoring the incredulous look Isaac had shot him. "I guess not."

Stiles moved closer to examine the bodies, though the stench of the blood had sent him reeling. "What happened? I remember the feeling of dying and I vaguely remember wandering around after that, but I'm here now which obviously means one of you did something that was probably extremely idiotic in order to get me back."

He paused and waited for a confirmation, and eventually Scott slowly nodded his head. "Your idiocy could've never come at a greater time."

Scott grinned and couldn't help patting his now-alive best friend on the back. Isaac watched the two silently, unable to believe that nobody was doing anything about Lydia's dead body.

_God._ The assassin must've killed her; that was the only explanation because Lydia wouldn't have actually died on purpose, would she? That still wouldn't explain why the ever famous Stiles Stilinski was now up and alive again, though. It was all a mystery to Isaac, and he knew that once the emotions at seeing Stiles again faded, Scott would feel nothing but guilt at the loss of Lydia; he wasn't a murderer, never had been. He'd been the strongest out of all of them; even Isaac had done his share, but Scott had always been the leader, had always known the line between right and wrong and was careful not to overstep.

But now Lydia was dead, and Isaac knew Scott would find a way to blame himself. Stiles deserved to know that the girl he had spent half his life pining after was dead, though; it was preposterous that Scott had lied. Maybe it had been for the best, but to erase Lydia completely as if she had never been a part of their lives seemed almost monstrous. Despite the severe lack of friendship Lydia and Isaac had originally shared, they had seemed to bond more after Stiles's death; he began to understand her a little better, began to realize that she was just a girl lost in her mind.

"Oh God," Stiles was flailing his arms wildly in front of his face, gesturing at the bodies in a panic, "What are we going to _do_?"

He shook his head and closed his eyes. "What am I supposed to tell my dad? 'Oh hey Dad, I've recently just been reincarnated, oh by the way here's some dead bodies for you.'"

"We'll handle it," Scott said firmly.

"Yeah, don't pass out," Isaac unhelpfully suggested as he moved towards the bodies.

Stiles snorted. "Hey, look who came back from France with a fancy new scarf for the eighty degree weather in _California._"

"Oh, you're funny," Isaac mocked, "Try not to pass out from the sight of the blood. Let the big boys handle this."

Stiles glared at the beta's turned back and shot a look in Scott's direction. "I hate him."

"Werewolf hearing," Isaac sang out, turning around just long enough to smirk at him.

"What happened to them anyway?" Stiles asked somewhat hesitantly, pointing in the direction of the girls.

Isaac turned around, Lydia gathered in his arms and Scott looked down. "I'll go put her in the car."

Stiles waved a hand in front of the alpha's face as Isaac quickly left the vicinity. "Scott, buddy, what the _hell _happened?"

Scott bit his lip and glanced at the remains of the assassin's shredded body. He wouldn't let himself feel guilt for her death; no, he wouldn't.

"Meet your killer," He shrugged, lightly kicking at her arm.

"Jesus Christ," Stiles took a step back, immediately putting the pieces together. "Tell me you didn't do this to her."

"I didn't," Scott shrugged, "But I didn't stop Isaac, either."

Stiles put a hand to his forehead before he began to pace. "We're so screwed; do you understand the severity of this situation, Scott? Jesus."

"Ah, I see he's taking this well," Isaac commented as he approached the boys.

Stiles made a face that was a mix between anger and puzzlement. "You just _killed_ someone! How am I supposed to explain this to my dad? Oh my _God._"

"We'll take care of it," Scott promised, "Don't worry about it."

"Don't worr- are you serious right now? I've been alive for less than ten minutes, and you two are already about to give me a serious heart attack," Stiles groaned. "We're _so _screwed."

There was a light thump as Stiles's body hit the ground, and Scott glared at Isaac. "Did you really have to knock him out?"

"We needed to get moving," He shrugged, looking as innocent as ever.

"Let's just get this over with."

…

Stiles couldn't understand for the life of him why Scott and Isaac were hiding something from him. It had been two days, and the lies had only increased; Stiles wasn't stupid, he'd noticed right away. Something was off about their story, and as hard as he'd tried, Stiles couldn't figure out what it was.

Isaac had definitely killed the assassin, but that was the only part of the story that added up. Everything else was like two steps forward and three steps back.

He was living back at home, though it was clear that he couldn't go to school or even really show his face in public until the news of his death had blown over. The Sheriff hadn't known what to say but hadn't hesitated for a second in pulling his son in for a hug, the cries loud and clear. The rest of the pack was relieved; even Derek had been happy to hear the news, though he would never admit that to Stiles. Malia and Derek were currently on their way back to Beacon Hills, though Stiles couldn't figure out why the pack was all so on edge. There was something missing, and for whatever reason they were keeping him out of it.

The feeling of dread he'd had since his first night back had only seemed to grow, and he was certain that it was about to burst.

Stiles spun around in his computer chair, tossing a ball up in the air, his thoughts all mingling together. His phone sat on his lap, and he kept waiting for someone in the pack to finally break and let him in on their dirty little secret, but it never happened. He tossed the ball onto his bed and dialed Scott's number.

"_Hey, it's Scott. Leave a message."_

Kira.

"_Hi, I'm really sorry I couldn't get to the phone, but give me a call back!"_

Derek.

"_This number is currently unavailable; press one to leave a message."_

Malia.

"_What am I supposed to say? Why would I say my name?"_

Even Liam.

"_Hey, it's Liam; I'll get back to you."_

Nobody picked up, and even his own father was out of sight despite today being his day off. Something was definitely up. Stiles quickly yanked an old lacrosse hoodie on over his head, and plucked the car keys to his jeep off the key ring.

The whole ride to the McCall's had been tense, Stiles hands twitching against the steering wheel; he had to find out what was going on. This couldn't go on any longer.

He wasn't really surprised to find the McCall house empty, Scott's motorcycle nowhere in sight. He groaned and smacked his head against the back of his seat before grabbing his phone and dialing a number he really wished he wouldn't have to dial.

"Yeah?" The fresh accent from his latest trip in France sounded through the phone and Stiles mentally sighed.

"Where the hell are you guys? I've been trying all day to-."

Stiles hadn't even finished his sentence, the dial tone cutting him off completely. Isaac had hung up on him; why was he surprised?

…

Despite its horribly depressing atmosphere, the room looked nice. Scott had only seemed to notice the nice arrangement of flowers after Lydia's mom had pointed it out in an attempt to conceal her tears. She hadn't known Scott that well, had only known he was a good friend of Lydia's, but that seemed to be enough for her. The funeral was small, much smaller than Stiles's had been, only about twenty chairs ordered in rows, though not even half were filled. It had seemed nobody wanted to be a part of beloved Lydia Martin's funeral, and the thought both saddened and angered Scott. He was sure the death of two Beacon Hills's students, both of which whom were good friends, made people paranoid. They may have been oblivious to the supernatural, but they weren't stupid.

He tensed up slightly as he felt a hand grab at his, but relaxed as he realized who it was. Kira leaned her head on his shoulder and shook her head.

"This is so wrong," She mumbled, "So, so wrong."

Scott had nothing to say that would even remotely make her feel better; he was too lost in his own thoughts. He caught Isaac's eyes from across the room, the beta looking somewhat worried.

"What's going on?" He asked, Kira trailing behind him as they approached the younger wolf.

Isaac shook his head and sighed. "Stiles is what's going on."

"Has he been calling?" Scott asked, arching an eyebrow. He guessed they probably could've done a better job at hiding today from him, but they had been so caught up in their own affairs that it hadn't even crossed their minds.

"He's going to find out, Scott," Isaac said defeated, though he didn't sound entirely disappointed. "He was always bound to."

"He won't even know who Lydia is, though," Kira pointed out, "so maybe it'll be okay,"

Scott ran a hand down his face and took a deep breath. "That's exactly what I'm worried about. He won't know her, and he'll jump to conclusions. He and I have been best friends since we were kids; we've practically been inseparable."

"What's your point?" Isaac questioned.

"My point," He made a face, "is that he's going to wonder how I know Lydia, how the entire pack knows her. And once he begins to wonder, he's going to end up solving the puzzle. He always does."

Mrs. Martin began to move towards the podium and the pack took that as their signal to sit down. Scott sat in between Kira and Isaac, though Derek kept shooting him looks from the side. Malia was picking at her nails, obviously bored out of her wits but smart enough to keep her mouth shut.

"My daughter was," Mrs. Martin smiled tearfully, "beautiful, smart, and talented. It's such a shame, such a God damn shame that she was taken away from us so early on."

The speech continued, but Scott had to zone out, had to push away the guilt he had been filled with since her death. All Lydia had done was held him; he should've found a way to keep her from leaving the house, should've done _something._ He glanced up again just in time to see the Sheriff guiding Mrs. Martin out of the room to give her some air. Melissa sat silently, her hand held up against her mouth, unable to believe this was actually happening.

It had stayed silent for a few minutes, everyone in the room unsure of what to say; there was really nothing. Scott was just about to stand up when the sound of sneakers hitting carpet could be heard.

"Stiles, you can't go in-"

The Sheriff stopped as his son pushed the doors open, revealing what looked to be a funeral. He looked around helplessly for a few seconds before meeting Scott's eyes.

"Scott? What is this?"

Scott tried to spit out a lie, tried to come up with _something_ but nothing he could've said would've stopped Stiles from slowly moving towards Lydia's body.

Stiles could feel his heart puttering hard against his chest, and he was finding it extremely difficult to breathe, almost as if he was on the brink of a panic attack. He looked down at the body, unable to comprehend who this girl was. He immediately realized she had been the girl at the gravesite, the girl Isaac had carried away. Who _was_ she?

He quickly turned around as a hand was placed on his back. Mrs. Martin? Sure, he knew her from school, but why the hell was she here? Oh no, was this her daughter? How tragic; he immediately felt the sympathy rising.

"Stiles," She began, "she would be glad to see you here."

He took a step back and made a face. What the hell did that mean? He had never met her daughter in his entire life; he was sure of it. This didn't make any-

Wait.

He was floored back as a sequence of memories began to rapidly flash through his mind.

"_Hey, Lydia you look…like you're gonna ignore me."_

"_What the hell is a Stiles?"_

"_Lydia, I've had a crush on you since the third grade, and I know that somewhere inside that cold, lifeless exterior, there's an actual human being."_

"_Look, you shouldn't care if people see you cry, alright? Especially you."_

"_Well, I think you look beautiful."_

"_You held your breath."_

"_See, that's the problem. You don't care about getting hurt. But you know how I'll feel? I'll be devastated! And if you die, I will literally go out of my friggin' mind!"_

"_Stiles, you're the one who always figures it out."_

"_You're something!"_

"_You'll eventually go off and write some mathematical theorem that wins you the Nobel Prize."_

"_I love girls…especially ones with strawberry blonde hair, green eyes, five-foot three…"_

"_If you harm one perfect strawberry blonde hair on her head, I'm gonna turn your little werewolf ass into a fur coat and give it to her as a birthday present."_

"_Lydia get off your cute little ass and dance with me."_

No, no, no. He fell to his knees in front of the casket, his heart ripping in two. He remembered it all, remembered the love he had always felt for Lydia, remembered the sacrifice she had made. She had died for him. Jesus Christ, she had _died _to bring him back, and that assassin had helped her do it. She couldn't possibly be dead, though. She couldn't; this was Lydia Martin, the banshee.

He clumsily stood up, his eyesight blurry from the tears and ran his hand over her cheek, hoping and praying that she'd open her eyes, that she would tell him everything was alright and that she was fine. He sank back to the ground, his hands pushed tightly against his face, his entire body shaking with sobs. No, no, no. Not her. _Not her._

He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there before Scott had finally hauled him up and took him into the hall in a desperate attempt to get him away from the dead body of the girl he'd always had a crush on, his anchor.

"Why didn't you _tell _me?" He cried out, angrily pushing his best friend a few feet back. "You lied to me! You all kept this from me when you _knew _what it would do to me."

"That's why we kept it hidden!" Scott argued, desperate for Stiles to understand.

"No," Stiles shook his head and wiped his hand across his face in an attempt to stop the tears, "You of all people knew this would destroy me. She wasn't just a girl, Scott! She was _Lydia!_"

"I was trying to protect you from the truth! I knew how it would affect you."

"Did you know she died to bring me back?" Stiles laughed bitterly. "She sacrificed herself to bring me back to life. But I bet you didn't know that, did you?" 

Scott froze, his eyes going wide. "She what?"

Stiles nodded his head and laughed again. "She sacrificed herself for me. She's gone because of _me._"

He fell against the wall, finding himself unable to gather his breath. "Oh God. I killed her. I _killed_ Lydia."

Scott knelt down next to his friend and fought to keep him breathing. "It's not your fault, Stiles. It's not. Any of us would've done the same."

Stiles pulled his knees up to his chest and shook his head. "You don't understand. I told you all where the assassin was; I practically handed the information to her. She got the spell from Maria."

"Maria was helping her?" Scott asked incredulously.

Stiles nodded his head, absolutely positive of his words. "She gave her all the information she needed. _God._ I did this. This is all my fault. I should've just left her alone, should've just let her grieve in peace."

The alpha could do nothing but put an arm around his best friend as he cried for the girl they had lost.

…

The darkness was overbearing, covering her from head to toe. She could see nothing, couldn't seem to get a good view from where she was. She tried to hold her hand up in front of her face, but was met with a sharp pain as it smacked against something hard. Oh, God.

She wiggled her body around but found that she couldn't move, couldn't do anything. As her memories slowly came back to her, her body began to shake with fear. She pushed against what felt similar to a wall, crying out in panic as it did nothing. She had a scary idea that she knew exactly where she was and the longer she squirmed, the more realistic it became.

Lydia Martin was trapped in a coffin.

**A/N: **Wowowowow, this took _forever_ to type. I'm sad to say that this is the end, but I might do a sequel under a different name. (: That all depends on the feedback, though. Thank you so much for reading! ALSO: I'm well aware that there are probably an extraordinary amount of typos and whatnot, so I'll obviously be editing those out, but I wanted to post this first fo I could hurry up and get it out there.


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Teen Wolf, Angst, Romance