Banshee Queen

by mentally_unstable11

Summary:

Monroe has been lurking in the shadows, plotting against the pack. During Stiles and Lydia’s wedding, the pack is attacked, and everyone dies. But before Lydia perishes, she stands in front of the Nemeton. Her scream is so powerful that it shatters the Nemeton and sends her back in time to her sophomore year. Determined to save her friends and win back her love, she sets out to change the future.
English is not my first language.

Notes:

Hii I uploaded this and I hated how sloppy it was so I deleted and rewrote everything hope you enjoy this first chapter I switched it up a littel bit and if you couldn't tell im obsessed with time travel fit you can be as accurate or inaccurate as you want.

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Stiles noticed her face. “What is it? What's wrong?”

Lydia felt a wave of fear curl in her stomach. “A lot of people are going to die.”

Gunshots rang out—loud, relentless, echoing off the trees. Lydia and Stiles ran as fast as they could, lungs burning, feet slipping over wet leaves, until they finally stopped. They were at the Nemeton. The forest felt heavier here, darker. Then she heard a single, sharp gunshot. Her eyes went to Stiles’s suit—it was covered in blood. So much blood.

“No, no Stiles, please stay awake! Look at me, please!” she cried, panic clawing at her throat.

He choked on his own blood but struggled to speak. “I-I-lo-ve-y-ou.” His hand lifted weakly, trembling, brushing her cheek.

Just before Lydia could answer, his eyes closed, and his hand fell. Blood-colored everything: her dress, her hands, her face. She didn’t want to scream. She didn’t want it to be true.

The forest seemed to close in on her, the Nemeton’s roots twisting like they were alive, and when she finally let out a scream, it shattered the air. The Nemeton cracked around her, and in that moment, she was shot straight in the heart—but it didn’t matter. Her heart was already broken, splintered beyond repair.

She woke up gasping, clutching the sheets, her chest heaving as though she had been running for miles. Stiles wasn’t there. She was back in her old room. The walls, the ceiling, the familiar shadows—they were all real, yet nothing felt safe. Her eyes widened in disbelief, and she screamed, staring at the wall, dazed, trembling. Her mother’s voice cut through the haze, furious and sharp, yelling at her to snap out of it.

Lydia kept repeating the words, over and over, like a mantra she couldn’t escape: “I never said it back. I never said it back.” Her mother slapped her hard, the sound snapping her attention back to reality. That’s when she snapped out of it. Her expression was distant, empty, as if a part of her had never returned.

“Mom, I had a really bad nightmare,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “My fiancé was dead, and so were all my friends. Then I died.”

Her mother grabbed her face gently, forcing her to meet her eyes. “Lydia, none of it was real.” Her expression flickered, something Lydia couldn’t read. “Honey, you’re probably feeling like this because of the medication the doctors gave you. That mountain lion probably scared you so much it gave you nightmares. Baby, try and sleep some more, okay?”

Her mother spoke softly, rubbing circles into her scalp, her touch comforting yet foreign. Lydia felt like she was drifting, caught between fear and relief, sanity and madness. Exhaustion overtook her completely, and she finally let herself fall back into the darkness, into sleep, into escape.

Chapter 2

Notes:

I edited the chapter because Allison at first won't remember everything until the end of season 1 I hope you enjoy it.

When Lydia regained consciousness, her mother had given her pills again. The room spun around her, and she felt lightheaded, unable to walk straight. It was like she was watching herself from outside her body. Her head throbbed painfully, and most of the lights were off, the curtains drawn tight, casting long shadows across the walls. Every sound felt muffled and far away.

A familiar knock broke through the haze. Her mother appeared, calm but careful. “Honey, there’s a Stiles here to see you.”

“Stiles…” Lydia’s voice caught. She almost started crying right then and there. There he was—young again, that horrible buzz cut that somehow suited him perfectly, alive and real.

Her mother spoke again, softly. “She took a little something to ease her nerves. You can go in.” She left, closing the door behind her, leaving Lydia trembling.

“Stiles?” she whispered.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, eyes wide, staring at her like a fish gasping for air.

“Are you real?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m real. Very real. You’re okay, I’m okay, Jackson’s okay.” His voice was rushed, shaky, desperate for her to feel grounded again.

Lydia grabbed his face. “Why did you leave? Why did you leave me?”

He took her hands in his. “Lydia, what are you talking about? I wasn’t with you. Come on, talk to me.”

She felt like she was going crazy. He cupped her face gently. “Lydia, look at me. What did you see last night in the car?”

She froze.

“What are you talking about, Stiles? That was seven years ago.” He cursed under his breath. She was confused. She wanted this to be a sick dream, but she knew it wasn’t. She was back. She was really back in the past. And he was alive again, breathing, real.

“I… mountain lion,” she whispered.

He turned to her, searching her face. “Was that what you saw? A mountain lion?”

She nodded, but he didn’t look satisfied. His eyes flicked toward the pills on her dresser, then back to her.

She needed to feel him. Without thinking, she turned his head and kissed him. For a moment, he froze, and then he kissed her back. He tasted like mint and coffee, just as he always did.

“Please, stay with me,” she begged, her voice raw.

He swallowed and nodded. He lay down beside her. He was confused, unsure how long he had been lying there, unsure if he was dreaming. But he was there, and that was enough.

When Lydia’s phone rang, he turned to her. “Do you want me to get it?”

She nodded. He picked it up and saw a text. Curious, he clicked on it and saw a video—it was the Alpha. The Alpha. His eyes widened. “Oh my God,” he muttered. He grabbed the phone. Lydia, asleep, was covered by him. He turned off the lights and left quietly, leaving the room still and heavy.

---

When Lydia woke again, she was alone in her room, in complete darkness. Her mother knocked and switched on a light.

“Honey, wake up. You need to eat something, and Allison is here to see you.”

Her mother helped her sit at the desk and placed a warm bowl of soup in front of her. Allison came in, sitting carefully on Lydia’s bed.

“Hey, how are you?” Allison asked, looking exactly as she had all those years ago. Lydia couldn’t hold it together and started crying again.

Allison got up and hugged her tightly. “Hey, it’s okay. I got you. You’re safe.”

Lydia calmed down just enough to let it all out. She couldn’t hold in her fear or her grief.

“Ally, I was so scared. There was so much blood,” she cried harder. Allison tried to soothe her, trembling herself, scared for Lydia.

They stayed like that for a long moment, holding onto each other. Lydia needed someone, anyone, even if she sounded insane.

“I know I’m going to sound crazy, but I need someone to talk to. I need you to promise you’ll hear me out.”

Allison nodded. “I will. I promise.”

Lydia swallowed hard. “I died last night. It was my wedding day, and I was killed by hunters.” She watched Allison’s face, trying to see if she believed her. There was nothing, but she pressed on.

“Your family… they’re hunters. And your Aunt Kate… she killed innocent people. Allison, the thing that attacked me… it’s a werewolf.”

Allison nodded, urging her to continue. Lydia told her everything.

“You died when you were seventeen. You were a huntress. Many of our friends died. We went through so much—but we went through it together. And now… I’m back. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear it’s the truth.”

Allison hugged her tightly, not letting go. Any normal person would have said Lydia was insane.

“I believe you. I know it sounds crazy, but for what you’ve said… things not many people know about my family… I can’t believe they’re hunters,” Allison whispered. “And that… that you died.”

Allison seemed overwhelmed. “How are you holding up?” she asked gently.

Lydia couldn’t hold it. She broke down again, hating how much she cried, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw Stiles die all over again. Allison stayed, letting her cry. She was the only anchor Lydia had right now.

---

Meanwhile, across town, Kate had Derek pinned. She was torturing him, reveling in it, wanting him to break completely. Allison, she decided, was due for the full hunter experience. Kate intended to train her, just as she had been trained.

Turning to Derek, she sneered, “Are you ready to talk, or am I going to have to keep going? I could do this all night.”

He glared at her. “Screw you. I could also be here all night.”

Kate grinned and turned the dial higher. “Fine. If that’s how you want it.”

Things were going her way—one way or another. They always were.

Chapter 3

To say that Stiles was freaking out would be an understatement. Not only had Lydia kissed him—really kissed him—she had acted clingy, like something straight out of one of his dreams. But she had a boyfriend. And today at school, she was avoiding him every time their paths crossed. Every time she saw him, she ran the other way.

Allison was avoiding Scott, too, which didn’t help. It was making them both furious.

“Scott, I can’t understand why they’re avoiding us,” Stiles muttered, picking at his curly fries in frustration.

“I don’t get it either,” Scott said, running a hand through his hair. “Why did Derek tell me to stay away from Allison, yet she’s avoiding me? Did I do something wrong? Did Derek say something to her? We were fine yesterday. I don’t get it.”

Stiles sighed. “Man, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to listen to Derek. Allison’s good for you—even if I hate it.”

Scott exhaled. “Maybe you’re right, but that doesn’t change the fact that she can’t even look me in the eye. It’s like she feels guilty about something.”

Stiles leaned back, rolling his eyes. “Girls are a mystery to the world.”

Scott nodded, resigned.

Meanwhile, across the school in the lunchroom, Allison and Lydia were having their own conversation, though Lydia’s mind kept drifting to Stiles.

“So the Beast of Gévaudan is real, and he’s related to my family?” Allison asked, surprise clear in her voice.

“Yes. He is related to you. I’ll tell you the full story another time.” Allison nodded, eyes wide.

They started leaving the lunchroom when they spotted Stiles and Scott. Lydia looked over at Stiles, longing clear in her expression.

Allison, meanwhile, tried to pretend she didn’t want to kiss Scott so badly she could barely breathe. Scott turned away, as expected—after all, she had been avoiding him first.

Stiles and Lydia locked eyes for a moment, a silent staring match. Then he turned and walked away.

Allison glanced at Lydia with a small smile. “You really weren’t kind about being in love with Stiles, huh?”

Lydia sighed. “I want my husband back. I mean… it took us so long to get together. It was mostly my fault, but still.” She smiled faintly. “And if you really want to know, I’ve been in love with him since I was seventeen.”

Allison grinned. “Really? How did it happen?”

Lydia sighed dramatically, leaning closer. “So… it was kinda traumatic. Darach was our villain at the time. She kidnapped your dad, Scott’s mom, and Stiles’ dad. You all wanted to look for them, but Stiles started having a panic attack, so I panicked too. I kissed him… then lied, saying I had read it somewhere.”

Allison laughed, full-body laughing. “Omg, you two really are meant for each other.”

Lydia smirked. “Well, you know the rest from there.”

Allison nodded. “The Dread Doctors and the Ghost Rider.”

Lydia took a bite of her food. “Yeah, pretty much.” Then she realized they were late for class. “Shit. Where are we going to be late? And where are you on the wrong side of the building?”

Allison’s eyes widened. “Shit, let’s go!” They ran to class, barely making it before the bell rang.

Allison sat next to Lydia, behind Scott and Stiles.

“Hii… sorry for, um, being MIA. My dad was pretty mad about yesterday, and I felt kinda weird,” Allison said softly.

Scott nodded, looking like a kicked puppy. “It’s cool. I understand.”

Allison smiled. “I changed lab partners, by the way.”

Scott swallowed nervously. “To whom?”

“All to you, dummy.”

Scott looked disappointed. “Oh… you don’t mind, do you?”

“It’s perfect,” he said, surprising both Allison and Lydia. His smile was shy but genuine, so different from the first time around. Lydia watched, realizing how much had changed—even small gestures mattered.

The coach interrupted, looking around the room. “All right, settle down. Let’s start with a quick summary of last night’s reading. Greenberg, put your hand down. Everybody knows you did the reading. How about… McCall?”

Scott’s smile dropped. “Huh?”

“The reading, McCall,” the coach repeated, frustrated.

“Last night’s reading?” Scott asked, confused. Allison and Lydia struggled not to laugh.

“No, the reading of the Gettysburg Address,” the coach said, irritation clear in his voice.

“What?” Scott asked again, still dumbfounded. People were snickering across the room.

“That was sarcasm, McCall. Familiar with the concept?” the coach snapped.

“Very,” Scott muttered, glancing at Stiles, who grinned proudly.

“You do the reading or not?” the coach pressed, moving closer.

“I think I forgot,” Scott admitted.

“Okay, then. Nice work. Because it’s not like you’re averaging a D in this class. You do know I can’t keep you on the team with a D, McCall?”

He waited for Scott to respond. Everyone watched. Someone giggled from across the room. Lydia glanced at Allison, already worried.

The coach kept pressing. Scott’s heart rate rose. Stiles leaned over, worried that Scott might flip out. Then Allison reached under Scott’s desk and intertwined her fingers with his. They were holding hands.

Stiles felt both grossed out and oddly indulging. He heard a soft “aww” from behind him and looked at Lydia, who smiled awkwardly.

“Right… they’re made for each other?”

Stiles nodded. “Yes, they are.” But they weren’t talking about Scott and Allison.

Notes:

Note: I hope you enjoyed this chapter it is kind of short I know but im trying to make them longer. Next chapter Lydia will brake up with Jackson and we will get Allisons first memory of her past life thank you all for reading English instant may first language but im working on my writing.

Chapter 4: chapter 4 pt1

To say that Lydia didn’t think things through would be an understatement—but could you blame her? Stiles Stilinski had been her best friend, her boyfriend, for years. Spending time around him had rubbed off on her. And now here they were at the school yet again, without Jackson—whom she’d also been avoiding—stuck with a giant zombie Alpha Peter roaming around.

If you want to know how that happened, let’s backtrack a bit.

Straight after school, Lydia had taken Allison into the woods to practice archery. She was surprisingly good already—Chris had clearly been teaching her well, even without her realizing it.

“Why do I have to practice this again?” Allison sighed.

Lydia groaned for the tenth time that hour. “Because we are going Alpha hunting. I know my way around a gun, and I have a score to settle with Alpha Peter.”

Allison shivered. “What if we can’t take him?” She was terrified—not just of dying, but of what her family was capable of. Kate and Gerard were cowards, hiding behind words to do evil things. Allison refused to be like them.

Lydia laughed. “Obviously we’re not going to take him down. We’re making ourselves known as allies—especially to Derek. He won’t trust us easily, but we can help each other. Peter’s smart, and your aunt has tried to kidnap Derek before. You’re going to need to free him when she does. Make her trust you. She’ll think she’s manipulating you, but the punchline? You’ll be using her the whole time.”

Allison nodded. “Okay. I’ll let her teach me, and I’ll use what she teaches me to our advantage.”

They practiced for three hours, then made their way to the school. A text pinged both their phones—Scott was waiting. They made sure to tell Jackson not to come.

Stiles’ jeep rolled into the parking lot, Stiles acting like a mother hen.

“This is a terrible idea,” he said, worry etched on his face.

Scott sighed. “I know.”

Lydia and Allison approached the boys, who were so wrapped up in conversation they didn’t notice them. Allison asked, “What’s a bad idea?”

Both boys jumped, screaming.

Stiles clutched his chest, breathless. “I think I just had a minor heart attack! Jesus, you need a bell on you, Allison.”

Scott spun. “Allison?!” Confusion spread across his face. “Ugh… what are you doing here?”

Allison tilted her head. “What do you mean? You asked us to meet you here.”

Scott glanced around. “Who’s ‘we’?”

Lydia made her presence known. “Me, obviously. And you, Scott McCall, better have an explanation as to why you practically urged us to come here.”

Scott looked angry. “What are you talking about?”

The girls held up their phones. Scott’s supposed message flashed across the screens. “Let’s just say Lydia knows some hacking of her own.”

Scott and Stiles grabbed the phones. Scott’s grip tightened, Stiles made choking noises. Lydia laughed. Allison’s eyes never left Scott.

“Scott, tell me what’s going on. I just want to know the truth.” Allison stared at him, waiting.

Before he could answer, Derek appeared. He looked at the girls, particularly Allison. “What is she doing here?”

“Great, Derek. Maybe you can explain what’s going on,” Lydia shot back, glaring at Scott.

Scott sighed. “I think the Alpha texted them because… we all know you broke my phone.”

Derek turned to Scott. “Don’t tell her. She’ll hate you if you do.”

“I won’t hate you,” Allison said, “I just want the truth.”

Scott took a deep breath. “I’m a werewolf.”

Allison laughed—full body, genuinely. Lydia snorted beside her.

“Okay, I don’t believe you. Show me.” She crossed her arms.

Scott glowed his eyes at her. Allison’s expression softened. She reached out, touching his face. “Okay. I believe you now.”

Lydia watched with longing. She wanted her Stiles back.

Derek cleared his throat. “Alpha on the way. You two should probably go.”

Allison shook her head. “No. We’re not leaving if you’re in danger. We can help.”

Before Derek could protest, Allison pulled out guns along with her bow.

“My dad taught me how to use these. If we can distract it, one of you can shoot it while someone else draws it out.” She demonstrated reloading techniques.

Derek nodded, reluctantly agreeing.

“Wait! Where’s my boss?” Stiles demanded.

“In the back,” Derek said, pointing to his car.

Scott and Stiles peeked inside the Camaro and saw Deaton bound and gagged.

“He looks comfortable,” Stiles muttered, shaking his head.

Allison and Derek worked quickly to prep weapons. Just then, a growl shook the ground.

“Damn it, Scott!” Derek cursed.

“Why do you have a gun along with a bow?” Derek asked.

Allison explained, “I practice a lot. Archery clears my mind. Guns are just… extra.”

Lydia finally spoke. “I was using them. I know my way around a gun. We went together.”

Before Derek could interrogate further, Scott and Stiles came back.

“I’m going to kill the two of you myself. Are you trying to attract the entire state to this school?”

“I didn’t know it would be that loud,” Scott admitted sheepishly.

Stiles grinned. “It was loud. And awesome.”

Then Allison saw the Alpha—Derek jerked forward just as dark, immense power hurled him into the air. Blood spurted from his mouth.

They ran for the school, Scott and Stiles yanking double doors shut behind them. Holding them closed, they looked at each other in terror. Allison and Lydia held hands, trembling.

“Lock it! Lock it!” Scott yelled.

“Do I look like I have a key?” Stiles snapped, glaring at him.

“Grab something!” Scott shouted.

The girls yelled from down the hall, “We’re trying!”

Stiles saw bolt cutters leaning against a wall outside.

“No,” Scott said.

“Yes,” Stiles replied.

“No, Stiles, don’t—”

But Stiles pushed past him into the cold air. He grabbed the cutters and kept yelling for everyone to run. The girls helped with the doors.

“We need to hide,” Allison said, already moving.

Lydia felt a chill run through her—death seemed near. She wanted to scream, but nothing came out.

They ducked into an empty classroom, but Stiles’ car battery came flying inside.

“People, move somewhere without windows!” Lydia hissed. “These heels are new, and I will not be ruining them.”

They reached the locker room and shut the door.

“Stiles, call your dad,” Lydia whispered urgently. “If the Alpha sees cops, he’ll run. Until he gets here, we need to distract him.”

Stiles looked murderous. “What if—”

“Just trust me,” she snapped.

The janitor suddenly appeared. “Son of a—!”

“Quiet,” Scott hissed.

“Quiet, my ass! Are you trying to kill me?”

They were shoved into the hallway. Lydia knew instantly—the janitor was dead. She wanted to scream.

Scott tried opening the door to help him, but Stiles pulled him back. They ran to the chemistry room. Peter walked by—they were discovered.

“Allison, call your dad!” Lydia ordered.

She did, voice shaking, “Dad, I’m scared… we’re at the school, Stiles’ Jeep broke down… please come!”

After a few reassurances, Allison wiped fake tears. Scott blinked. “Needed it to be believable,” she said.

“Scott, draw him out. He’s your Alpha. Go to the gym. Allison and I will attack while Stiles gets outside. He’ll call his dad and check on Derek—he’s alive, by the way.”

Scott froze. “How?”

Lydia sighed. “He’s a werewolf. Healing.”

Weapons ready, they walked to the gym. Stiles ran ahead, with Allison and Lydia following. The Alpha charged.

Allison’s arrow hit his shoulder. Lydia shot him in the back. He howled, leaving the gym in pain.

Scott’s eyes turned yellow. “Ally, talk to him. Break through. It’s the Alpha.”

“Scott you’re better than this. Whatever he did, you know he wouldn’t hurt me.” She hugged him.

They covered the school. Stiles ran over, wrapping them all in a group hug.

Lydia opened her mouth to speak, but everything went dark.

The last thing she saw: Stiles’ brown eyes. And the feeling of floating.

Chapter 5: chapter 5 pt 2

Notes:

I hope you enjoy this chapter I tried to make the text make sense I hope that it dose make sense.

Stiles grabbed Lydia, panic in his voice. “Somebody help over here!” Her hand was icy, her skin pale, and he could feel the weak pulse beneath his fingers.

Suddenly, Allison went limp, collapsing beside them. Scott’s voice cracked. “Allison! Allison!” Her skin was just as cold.

Paramedics arrived quickly, whisking them into the back of an ambulance. Stiles rode beside Lydia, gripping her hand, his mind spinning. He couldn’t make sense of any of it. The world had gone completely insane.

At the hospital, Scott and Stiles were taken aside for questioning. Their hearts raced—they had no way to explain what had happened without lying.

---

When Lydia opened her eyes, she was in her wedding dress. Blood covered her hands, Stiles’ blood. She was in a dark room. Panic clawed at her chest.

“Hello! Anyone there? Please, help me!”

When she turned, she found herself face-to-face with someone familiar.

“Hello, Arial,” her grandmother spoke softly.

Lydia cried out. “Nana!” They hugged tightly. “What are you doing here?”

“We don’t have much time,” her grandmother whispered. “I’m here to explain why you’re in the past. But first, we need a few more people.”

When they walked, Lydia found herself surrounded by many figures—faces she partially recognized, though most were strangers. Only her grandmother and Stiles’ mother were familiar.

“Sit, honey,” her grandmother said, guiding her.

Stiles’ mother came forward and hugged her. “Thank you for loving my baby boy. You make him so happy. You two are many things to each other, and all will be alright—you just need time.”

Tears streaked Lydia’s face as she nodded.

A woman stepped forward, looking strikingly like Derek, accompanied by a young woman. “I am Talia, Derek’s mother,” she said. “And this is my oldest daughter, Laura—Derek’s sister.”

Stiles’ mother cleared her throat. “I think I should start.” She nodded to the group, then continued. “I am a spark, and so is Stiles. Sparks are very rare, and overusing our powers is dangerous. I overused mine when hunters found me. The dementia they diagnosed me with wasn’t dementia—it was my power failing, until it eventually killed me.”

Claudia paused, blinking back tears. “I saw the future through hallucinations—visions of what would happen to my son. And I couldn’t stop it.”

Her grandmother added, “When Jennifer kidnapped Noah, Maliss, and Chris, they did the ice bath to find them. Stiles technically died.”

Lydia’s heart hammered. “He was your soulmate when he died… so a part of you… even if dormant, your spark somehow started protecting him. And before he died, his spark activated and saved you—by sending you somewhere safe. But instead… he sent you to the past.”

Lydia’s tears fell freely. Even in death, Stiles had tried to save her.

Talia continued, voice strong but tender. “We helped him send you back. You and Allison have a mission: to prevent war from breaking out between humans and the supernatural. Only Peter, Allison, and Spencer can know about your time travel. Any mistake could be catastrophic.”

Lydia paused. “Spencer… like my cousin Spencer?”

Her grandmother nodded. “Yes, honey.”

“But I don’t understand… isn’t she dead?”

Talia’s voice softened. “We saved her because she is Derek’s soulmate. My son deserved a second chance at happiness, and they both suffered too much. They deserved what they didn’t have in their past lives.”

Claudia said quietly, “Allison will remember in time, but only when she’s ready.”

Her grandmother looked at her. “Arial… honey, it’s time to wake up.”

“Wait! I still have so many questions!” Lydia cried.

“In time, you’ll understand. For now… wake.”

Her eyes opened, surrounded by concerned faces. “She’s awake,” someone whispered. The hospital room blurred as reality returned.

Allison woke, bow in hand, taking arrow after arrow in a thick, strange fog. Her final shot hit a shadowy figure. Pride surged, then pain struck her stomach. She looked down—blood everywhere. Memories of falling hit her.

“Is she okay? Is Lydia safe?” Allison gasped.

“She’s okay,” Scott said, gripping her hand and trying to ease the pain, though he felt helpless. “I can’t… I can’t take your pain.”

“It’s okay… it’s perfect,” Allison whispered. “I’m in the arms of my first love… the person I’ll always love. I love you, Scott… Scott McCall.”

Scott sobbed. “Don’t! Please… don’t. Allison, don’t…”

Her time ended.

“You have to tell my dad… you have to tell him…” she whispered through fading breath. In her last moments, she was grateful to be in the arms of the man she loved.

“No!” Scott’s scream echoed.

Allison opened her eyes to find herself crying, Scott hugging her tightly.

“I was worried. Are you okay?” he asked.

She shook, letting the tears fall. “Where’s Lydia?”

“She’s okay. Doctors said you both went into shock—you were out for two days.”

Overcome, Allison fainted again.

When she woke again, she felt Scott’s hand on her stomach. Lydia and Stiles were there too, their faces exhausted.

Lydia’s voice was raspy, broken. “We have to talk later.”

Allison nodded.

Scott held Allison’s face gently. “Are you okay? Don’t pass out again.”

“I won’t,” she whispered.

Stiles woke from the commotion, hugging Lydia. She clung to him, craving him more than anything. She wanted to kiss him, to go back to their tiny apartment, to just be with him.

Stiles and Scott explained how they had lied to protect everyone. Lydia wanted to strangle them both—but she was too relieved to be alive.

Stiles held her hand, grounding her. Just as she began to breathe easier, Jackson appeared.

“Hey, babe, how are you feeling?” he said, leaning in.

Lydia dodged him, glaring. “Could you give us a minute?”

Scott nodded, dragging Stiles out.

Allison closed the curtain. Music played faintly on the other side.

“Jackson…” Lydia began, her voice steady. “We should break up.”

Jackson’s blue eyes darkened. “What?” He laughed, disbelief sharp in his tone. “You’re breaking up with me?”

“Yes,” Lydia said firmly. “Jackson, you don’t love me. We were together because of popularity, because you wanted to prove to yourself you weren’t gay.”

Jackson shook his head. “I am not gay.”

“Yes, you are,” Lydia replied.

He shook his head again. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” he sneered, eyes burning.

Lydia sighed. “Sure, there isn’t.”

Jackson stormed out, leaving a trail of anger behind him. She knew it wasn’t over. Too many things were left unsaid, too much history ready to unfold again.

Chapter 6

Notes:

Hi I am so sorry for the late update of this fic I won't lie I was scared to update because the day I was going to my basement caught on fire I am of but it was a scary event. I also did a rewrite of the chapter about due time I felt like they were a little sloppy so I wanted to fix it.

Lydia was finally home.

The hospital had discharged her that morning, doctors calmly explaining that she had almost died—twice—as if that were something she could just process and move on from.

Now the house was quiet. Too quiet.

Her father was God-knew-where, her mother was at work, and for the first time since everything happened, Lydia was completely alone. Allison had been ungrounded today, but they still hadn’t really talked—not properly, not about everything.

And then there was Spencer.

Lydia still couldn’t wrap her head around it. In her past life, Spencer had taken her own life after miscarrying. Lydia had felt that grief, that devastation. So what had changed? Why was she here now? Why was Spencer suddenly important again?

More questions. No answers.

Her phone buzzed on the bed.

Allison.

Lydia smiled softly and answered the FaceTime call. Allison appeared on the screen, sitting in her bedroom. It was a complete disaster—books everywhere, some stacked, others scattered across the floor like she’d been digging for answers and hadn’t stopped.

“Hey, Ally,” Lydia teased lightly. “What’s this? Becoming a nerd now?”

Allison popped out from under a pile of books. “No!” she said defensively, then stood and cracked her bedroom door open, peeking into the hallway to make sure no one was there. She shut it again and lowered her voice. “I’ve been researching memories of past lives.”

Lydia’s smile vanished. Her eyes widened. “What?”

Allison sat down hard on her bed. “I remembered my death.” She swallowed thickly. “I died in Scott’s arms. The arms of the only man I’ve ever loved.”

Lydia’s breath caught. “Oh my God… you remember?”

“No,” Allison said quickly, pacing now. “Not everything. Just how I died.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I’m terrified—and relieved. Both. I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry for doubting you. I really thought you were losing it.”

Lydia smiled gently. “It’s okay. I would’ve thought the same thing if I were you.”

She hesitated, then sighed. “I also… might have seen something. Something important. But I think it’s something I need to tell you in person.”

Allison nodded immediately. “I get that.” Her expression fell. “I’m just really upset because my parents have forbidden me from seeing Scott. Ever.”

Her eyes filled with unshed tears.

“It’ll be okay,” Lydia said softly. “We’ll figure it out. For now, just pretend you and Scott aren’t talking. Pretend you know nothing.”

Allison nodded. “I’ll try. Tomorrow after school—sleepover at your place. I already talked to my parents.”

Lydia smiled. “Deal. Bring your clothes to school.”

Allison laughed. “I will. And… I love you.”

Lydia’s smile softened, turning sad. “I love you too. Good night.”

“Good night,” Allison said, ending the call.

Lydia lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Something told her tomorrow was going to be long.

And she was not ready.

The next morning, Allison packed all her clothes and slung her bag over her shoulder. Her dad had insisted on driving her to school the past few days. Kate had been acting especially strange—extra strange—insisting Allison learn how to use a taser.

Allison wasn’t stupid. Lydia was hiding something from her. She knew enough about her aunt to be nervous—but not enough to understand why.

She was about to grab her keys when her father appeared in the doorway.

“You’re not driving to school, Allison.”

Her eyes widened. “But, Dad—”

“No ‘but.’ My decision is final.”

She grumbled, “Fine.”

Kate appeared behind him. “Hey, are you going?”

“I’m driving Allison,” her dad said with a sigh.

Kate nodded. “Makes sense. Gotta keep an eye on this one.”

Kate smiled.

Allison had never hated her aunt more.

Which was how she ended up trapped in the backseat with Kate riding shotgun. The entire drive consisted of her father warning her to stay away from Scott—and Kate making offensive jokes at his expense.

Allison dug her nails into her palms. She wanted to scream. Everything felt wrong. Too much was happening, and she didn’t know what—or who—to believe anymore.

When they reached the school, Allison reached for the door.

It didn’t open.

Child safety lock.

She glared at her father. “Dad. If you’re going to insist on driving me, you at least have to let me out of the car.”

He scanned the area like he was expecting an ambush. “Kate, how do you feel about homeschooling?”

Allison’s eyes widened. “What?!”

“I’m more of a learning-by-doing kind of girl,” Kate replied casually.

Allison snapped. “Kate, how do you feel about overprotective dads who keep ruining their daughters’ lives?”

Kate smirked and reached across her brother to unlock the door.

Allison paused. “I get that you’re worried. And I appreciate it. But you’re not always going to be there, Dad. I need to learn how to protect myself.”

They both stared at her.

She turned to Kate. “Thanks for the ride.”

Then she was gone, swallowed by the crowd of students.

Chris sighed. “She’s right. I just want to keep her out of the supernatural until she’s eighteen.”

Kate didn’t answer.

At school, Allison’s eyes immediately found Scott across the hall.

He looked at her.

Then he walked away.

Lydia appeared beside her. “Hey, Ally.”

Allison sighed. “Hey.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Scott’s ignoring me. And I hate all of this.”

“I’m really sorry,” Lydia said quietly. “I should’ve waited before telling you anything.”

Allison shook her head. “No. I’m glad you told me. I’d rather know the truth than be lied to.”

The bell rang, and they headed to class.

After school, exhausted and emotionally drained, they went straight to Lydia’s house. Lydia locked the door and checked every room to make sure no one was home.

Then Allison finally spoke.

“I remembered being attacked by a man with a sword,” she said softly. “I remember Scott holding me. I remember your scream.”

Lydia pulled her into a hug. “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” Allison whispered. “Still in shock.”

She pulled back. “Now tell me what you saw.”

Lydia laughed nervously. “Okay. When I was unconscious, I met Thalia Hale, Laura Hale, Stiles’ mom, and my grandmother.”

Allison froze.

“They told me why we’re here. Stiles saved me—he’s something called a Spark.”

“A what?”

“A Spark,” Lydia explained, pacing. “Someone who can manipulate mountain ash naturally. Rare magic. Powerful. And apparently, we’re meant to stop a war between humans and the supernatural.”

Allison just stared. “That’s… a lot.”

Lydia sat back down, her hands trembling slightly. “That’s not all they told me.” She took a breath. “They told me my cousin Spencer will also remember. That she’s going to help us.”

Allison stared at her, shock written all over her face.

“Wait—what?” she said slowly. “Spencer is dead. How is she alive in this timeline?”

Lydia swallowed. “That’s exactly what I don’t understand.” Her voice wavered just a little. “In my past life, she committed suicide after she miscarried. I remember it. I felt it. But somehow… she’s alive now.”

Allison shook her head, trying to process it. “So the past isn’t fixed.”

“No,” Lydia whispered. “Something changed. And whatever it was—it changed everything.”

The room fell silent.

Both of them knew one thing for sure now.

This wasn’t just about memories anymore.

This was about rewriting fate.

Lydia’s phone buzzed loudly in the drawer. Both girls flinched.

She frowned at the screen. Stiles

“Well,” Allison muttered, “that feels ominous.”

Lydia answered and put it on speaker. “Stiles?”

“Oh good, you picked up,” Stiles said. “That saves me from having to leave seventeen increasingly unhinged voicemails.”

Allison’s stomach sank. “What happened?”

“Short version?” Stiles said. “Lacrosse practice. Testosterone. Poor life choices.”

“Stiles,” Lydia warned.

“Fine. Medium version,” he sighed. “Scott accidentally went full supernatural Hulk during practice and may or may not have turned Jackson into a human crash-test dummy.”

Scott’s voice cut in, strained and panicked. “I didn’t mean to. He kept pushing me—literally—and I tried to back off, but my heart rate spiked and everything just… snapped.”

Allison felt her chest tighten. “Scott…”

“I shoved him,” Scott continued miserably. “Just once. But it was too hard. He fell wrong.” His voice broke. “I’m a werewolf, Allison. I forgot for a second.”

Stiles jumped back in. “And by ‘fell wrong,’ we mean Jackson broke his arm. Like—definitely broke it. There was a sound. Not a fun sound.”

Lydia went pale. “Is he okay?”

“Define ‘okay,’” Stiles said. “He’s alive, conscious, screaming insults, and currently being escorted to the hospital. So, you know. On brand.”

Scott heard it anyway. “I’m scared,” he admitted quietly. “What if I hurt someone else?”

Stiles snorted softly. “Wow, Scott, way to make this emotional. We were doing so well with panic and sarcasm.”

“Where are you?” Lydia asked, already reaching for her jacket.

“Locker room,” Stiles replied. “Scott’s doing the whole ‘I’m a danger to society’ thing and refusing to move.”

“I’m coming,” Allison said immediately.

“Ally, you don’t have to—” Scott started.

“I do,” she said firmly, even though her hands were shaking. “You’re not alone.”

Lydia grabbed her keys, heart pounding.

Chapter 7

Notes:

I will not lie the next 2 other chapter and this one have times skips because I got Lazy and felt that I was moving slow with this one I hope you like the next few and this one.

Chapter 7 

When Lydia and Allison got to the school it was chaos. Jackson was being loaded into an ambulance. 

They hurried to the locker room to check on the boys. The air felt heavy. Scott stood off to the side, looking shaken.

“I’m a monster.” Scott had tears in his eyes, his voice quiet and unsteady.

Allison stepped toward him and grabbed his hands. “You’re not a monster, Scott. You’re not. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Scott swallowed hard, still scared, but he didn’t pull away.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Allison. I need you away from me.”

Scott’s voice was low, strained. He took a small step back like distance alone could protect her.

Allison shook her head. “No. I’m not staying away from you. You won’t push me away.”

Her voice was steady, even if her eyes were glassy. She stayed right where she was, refusing to let him face it alone.

Lydia and Stiles quietly slipped out, leaving Scott and Allison alone to talk. The locker room door swung shut behind them with a soft echo.

They stood just outside in the hallway.

“Look, if you’re worried about Jackson, I think he’ll be okay. He’s strong.” Lydia gave Stiles a small smile. She knew how hard it was for him to say anything remotely nice about Jackson.

Stiles huffed lightly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, well… don’t make me say it twice.”

She let out a small laugh. “If I’m being honest, I was more worried about Scott.”

Stiles glanced back toward the locker room door, his usual sarcasm fading for a second. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “Me too.”

Lydia watched him carefully, noticing the way his jaw tightened with concern, even if he tried to hide it.

She reached out and touched his arm gently. “He’ll be fine. Trust me.”

Stiles swallowed. “Jackson.”

She raised a brow at him. “No. Scott.”

For a second they just looked at each other, both knowing exactly who they were really worried about — even if they wouldn’t fully admit it.

Lydia slowly let go of Stiles’ arm when Allison and Scott stepped out of the locker room. Both of them looked calmer, but there was still something heavy in Scott’s expression.

No one said much as they left.

—---------------------------------------

The next couple of days were worse than Jackson’s broken arm.

Lydia wasn’t stupid. She was well aware that Derek was at Stiles’ house, which meant she wasn’t surprised when Stiles called her about searching for the alpha.

She answered on the second ring. “What are you doing?”

“Wow. No hello? No ‘Stiles, how are you, Stiles, you sound handsome over the phone’?” he replied.

“Stiles.”

“Okay, fine. Hypothetically speaking, if someone were trying to track down a mysterious homicidal alpha werewolf, how would one do it?”

Lydia sighed. “You’re not ‘someone.’”

“Details.”

“Are you at home?”

“Define home. Because technically yes, but emotionally? Things are complicated.”

“Stiles.”

“Relax. I’m not alone. I just need your brain..”

There was a brief pause. “Fine, I'm on my way to your house” she said flatly.

“Thank you for the best.”

Lydia made it to Stiles’ house. She went straight inside and didn’t come empty-handed—she brought extra clothes for Derek and a cup of coffee for herself, to help deal with their bullshit.

"Hello, Stiles," she smiled. She turned around to Derek. "Hello, Derek. Here are some clothes to change into."

He raised a judgmental brow but nodded, thankful. “Thank you Lydia.”

Lydia smiled at Derek and then turned to Stiles. "What do you need me to do?"

I need you to trace the text that you said the Alpha sent you and to track where Scott's phone was.

Lydia shrugged. "Is that all?"

Stiles nodded, glancing at Derek, who was halfway through changing shirts, tossing his old one onto a chair with a small sigh. His brow was still raised in that judgmental way.

Lydia smiled, a playful glint in her eye. "Give me your laptop."

Stiles handed it over reluctantly, his fingers brushing hers for just a moment. "Be gentle with it," he muttered.

Derek rolled his eyes but said nothing, tugging his new shirt into place. Lydia ignored him, already setting up the laptop on the nearby table.

Lydia typed quickly, her fingers flying over the keyboard. Lines of code blurred across the screen, and in an instant, she had the coordinates.

Stiles watched in amazement, his eyes wide. "How… how did you do that?" he asked, almost in disbelief.

Trying to act shocked, Lydia leaned back and said, "No way… it says it’s coming from Beacon Hills Hospital."

Stiles scrambled to follow, still staring at Lydia.

Lydia gave a small smile, already closing the laptop. "We need to go to the hospital and check it out." she said, grabbing her purse. 

—---------------------------------------

With Allison and Scott

Scott was getting ready for the game, tightening his cleats and adjusting his jersey. Stiles, who was supposed to be playing, was nowhere in sight.

Allison approached, her brow furrowed with concern. "Scott, have you heard from them? I’ve tried calling Lydia, and I got nothing."

Scott let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I’m gonna call Stiles again." He pulled out his phone, dialing quickly, his eyes scanning the field as if Stiles might suddenly appear from around a corner.

Stiles answered at the 3rd ring.

Scott dialed Stiles’ number again, The first ring. Nothing. The second ring. Still nothing.

Finally, on the third ring, Stiles answered, his voice breathless. “Stiles, where are you?”

“I’m with Lydia and Derek. We think we know where the Alpha is.”

Scott looked around the field, the wind whipping through the tall grass. “You should’ve told me so I could be there,” he said, his voice tight with frustration.

“You’re supposed to be here. You’re First Line,” Scott said, worry threading his voice.

Coach stepped forward, eyes scanning the field. “Where the hell is Bilinski?”

In the now-parked Jeep, Stiles glanced at the radio clock and let out a pained sigh. He gripped the handset tightly. “You won’t play if you’re not here to start.”

“I know,” Stiles replied, his voice tight. “If you see my dad, tell him… tell him I’ll be there. Just… a little bit late.” He hung up, jaw clenched.

“You’re not going to make it,” Derek said, his tone heavy.

Lydia cleared her throat and stepped closer. “Don’t be a downer. He’ll make it.”

“I know,” Stiles admitted, staring at the dashboard as the seconds ticked by.

Stiles peers through the open patient room door. “He’s not here. He’s gone.”

Inside the patient room, Peter’s wheelchair sits empty.

Derek sits up in alarm. “Get out of there. It’s him. He’s the Alpha.”

Stiles slowly pulls the phone away, turning around to see—Peter Hale. He gives the boy a friendly smile, burns stretching hideously up one side of his face.

“You must be Stiles.” He slowly turns, eyes lingering on Lydia. “And you must be the lovely Lydia.”

They both take a nervous step back from Peter.

Then Stiles spins to find Jennifer standing on the other side of the corridor. “What are you doing here? Visiting hours are over.”

Stiles looks from her to Peter, panic rising. Both of them are approaching. “You… and him… you’re the one who… and he’s the… Oh, my God. I’m going to die.”But then a HAND presses Jennifer's cheek and SLAMS her head into the wall. She crumbles to the floor, revealing Derek behind her.

“That wasn’t nice. She’s my nurse,” Peter said dryly.

“She’s a psychotic bitch helping you kill people,” Derek growled, glancing at Stiles and Lydia. “Get out of the way.”

Derek’s mouth opens, revealing sharpened fangs. He lowers into an attack pose.

“Oh, damn,” Stiles mutters.

Stiles and Lydia press themselves up against the wall as Derek launches himself at Peter.

His uncle, however, barely seems to move. Eyes flashing red, he grabs Derek by the jacket, slamming him into one wall, cracking the plaster, then slamming him into the opposite side with the same result.

Hands above his head, Stiles and Lydia cower down as plaster rains over them.

Peter drops Derek down. Hand still gripping his neck, he drags the younger werewolf toward Jennifer’s body.

“You think I killed Laura on purpose? One of my own family?”

He lets Derek slap down to the tile floor. Peter digs through his nurse’s unconscious body for her car keys.

“My mind—my personality—was literally burned out of me. I was being driven by pure instinct.”

Derek launches himself back up. Peter responds by planting a foot right on Derek’s torso, sending him tumbling back. Blood at his lips, Derek pulls his head up.

“You want forgiveness?”

I want to understand. Do you have any idea what was happening to me in those years? Slowly healing cell by cell. Then even more slowly coming back to consciousness. Yes, becoming an Alpha—taking that from Laura—it pushed me over a plateau in the healing process. I can’t help that. And I tried to tell you what was happening. I tried to warn you.”

On his feet again, Derek goes for a last attack. But Peter easily launches him across the empty reception desk and crashes through the glass barrier.

Lydia and Stiles helped Derek get out of the hospital. He was hurt, but they managed to support him as they moved toward the exit.

“We need to keep moving,” Lydia said. “Peter’s probably on his way to Scott.”

When they made it to the school, the game was already over. Lydia moved quickly toward Allison, while Stiles andDerek went inside.

Allison looked up, worry etched across her face. “What happened?”

“Peter decided to reveal himself,” Lydia said, her voice tight. “It didn’t go well—he almost killed Derek.”

Allison left with her family, making sure they stayed distracted and keeping an eye out for any call from Lydia. She knew this was far from over. Even if they were safe for now, Peter wouldn’t give up easily, and she needed to be ready for whatever came next.

Chapter 8

Chapter 8 Another Time skip.

Allison blinked, tears pricking her eyes. She couldn’t believe it—it was true. Her aunt was… crazy. She had tortured people for fun. The thought made her stomach twist, but there was no time to dwell on it. She had to help Derek.

But first, she needed Lydia’s help. Without Lydia, she didn’t stand a chance against whatever her aunt was planning. Allison wiped her tears and took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus. She couldn’t let fear freeze her—Derek’s life depended on her acting fast.

Allison knocked on Lydia’s door, her voice urgent. “My aunt is crazy. She has Derek, and she’s torturing him. I need your help.”

Lydia’s eyes widened. “I have a plan.” She quickly told Allison everything that had happened the last time they faced her aunt together, laying out the risks and what they needed to do.

Once they were ready, they moved carefully, retracing their steps back to where Derek was being held, each step filled with quiet determination.

They freed Derek. He swayed slightly but managed to stand. 

“You need to leave quickly,” Allison said, glancing nervously.

Derek looked at Allison, his expression softening. “Thank you… for helping me.”

Allison gave a small, determined nod. “Of course. I couldn’t just let her do that to you its not fair.”

Derek’s shoulders relaxed a little, though the worry in his eyes didn’t fully fade. “We need to get out of here before she realizes I'm gone,” he said, starting to move toward the exit. 

Lydia fell in step beside him. “We’re glad you’re safe,” she said firmly, scanning the area for any signs of danger.

They moved quickly, putting distance between themselves and the place Derek had been held. Once they were a safe distance away, the girls slipped into the mall, blending in with the crowds. They acted like nothing had happened, but underneath the calm, the weight of what had just occurred stayed with them.

Lydia shook her head slightly. “Remember… we’re perfectly normal.”

—---------------------------------------

They both smiled, trying to shake off the tension, as they met up with Stiles. He grinned back at them. For a moment, everything felt almost ordinary again—just friends hanging out, pretending that nothing dangerous was happening.

They dragged Stiles along while trying on dresses, and when Lydia spotted that awful pink one, a shiver ran through her—just the thought of wearing it again terrified her.

She pretended everything was fine as she tried it on, but a wave of nausea swept over her.

Allison was about to pick out a red dress when a voice interrupted her.

“That’s not your color.”

She glanced up, caught off guard by Peter, and tried to swallow down her fear.

“Sorry if that was intrusive,” he said smoothly. “But considering your skin tone, I’d go lighter.”

“Because I’m pale?”

“Fair. You can’t call skin like yours pale. Not skin that perfect.”

“Oh… okay,” Allison muttered, swallowing hard.

“Trust me, I have a unique perspective on the subject.” As he stepped closer, something flickered in his eyes—either a reflection of the store’s lights, or something stranger.

“Would you mind?” He reached for her hand. Before she could even react, his fingers curled around her palm, delicately lifting her hand. “See? Much better.”

He pressed a lighter fabric from the rack against her hand.

“You’re not here alone, are you?” He inched closer, and Allison instinctively stepped back.

“Friends… looking for dresses too?” he asked.

Allison nodded, keeping her voice steady.

“High school dance?” he murmured, almost a whisper.

“Formal,” she said.

VOICE OVER PA
Attention shoppers. To the owner of a blue Mazda, license plate…

Allison blinked, snapping back to reality. “Did she say blue Mazda?”

VOICE OVER PA
…5-U-N-I-7-6-8. Your car is being towed.

“What? That’s— that’s my car!” Allison gasped, relieved to have an excuse to leave.

Peter watched the suddenly frantic teenager dart between the racks, heading for the exit. Blinking in momentary confusion, he allowed himself a small smile.

(whispering)
“I have to say, I continue to be impressed by your ingenuity, Scott.”

Around a corner and down another aisle, Scott pressed himself into the shadows, listening. He slumped back against the wall, the weight of Peter’s next words settling over him.

“Just remember: you can’t be everywhere all of the time.”

—---------------------------------------

With Kate.

She searched everywhere for Derek, but he was gone. The place was empty, silent, and the panic in her chest grew.

“I want you to find him—now,” she demanded, her voice sharp

She began smashing everything in sight, hurling objects at the walls in frustration, each crash echoing her panic and anger.

—--------------------------------------

Allison and Lydia got ready, each taking a moment to check their outfits. When Stiles arrived, he was a total gentleman, opening the car door for both of them. Allison couldn’t help but smile at the small gesture.She smiled as she watched Scott sneak in.

As they went inside the dance was in full swing. The trio separated Lydia and stiles sat down and Allison went to get a drink Lydia was pretty happy to be here with Stiles she tried to hide a smile as he spoke 

“You want to dance?”

“Pass.”

“You sure?”

“Quite.”

Stiles stood up, shaking his head. “Let me try that again. Lydia, get off your ass and dance with me.”

“Interesting tactic. I’m going to stick with no,” Lydia replied, smirking.

“Get up. You’re going to dance with me. I don’t care that you’re popular. I’ve had a crush on you since third grade, and I know somewhere inside that cold, lifeless exterior, there’s an actual human soul. And I’m also pretty sure I’m the only guy who knows how smart you really are—that when you’re done pretending to be a nitwit, you’ll eventually go off and write some mathematical theorem that wins you a Nobel Prize.”

Lydia paused, raising an eyebrow. Taking a deep breath, she finally stood. “Fields Medal.”

“What?” Stiles blinked at her.

“Nobel doesn’t have a prize for mathematics. The Fields Medal is the one I’ll be winning,” she said, holding out her hand.

Blinking in astonishment, Stiles took it. A stupid-happy grin spread across his face as he led her to the dance floor.

Neither of them noticed Scott standing in the shadows nearby, smiling with pride at his best friend—until he connected eyes with Coach.

“Oh, damn.” Scott darted out of his spot.

“McCall! I see you!” Coach shouted, pushing through a wave of students as he headed straight for him.

Scott maneuvered into the jam-packed dance floor, jostled by fast-moving bodies. An elbow to the chest slowed him only momentarily. He continued evading—until the worst happened.

A slow song started. The floor began to clear, uncoupled students returning to tables while couples clasped hands to sway along.

Jackson looked at Allison and shrugged—no slow dancing for him. She followed him off the floor, leaving Scott on his own.

Turning back, Scott saw Coach closing in. Panic rising, he spotted one person who could help: Danny.

“Dance with me,” Scott demanded, grabbing him.

“What? No!”

“Danny, please. Dance with me. Right now.”

Before Danny could protest further, Scott pulled him into an awkward embrace, arms around him tightly.

“McCall! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Every couple around them paused, eyes turning as Coach charged forward like he was about to chastise a gay couple for dancing in public.

“You’re not supposed to… You shouldn’t be… um…” he stammered, scanning the hostile glares aimed at him.

Scott instinctively pulled a bewildered Danny closer.

(innocently) “Yes, Coach?”

The teens bore down on him, their eyes sharp with pure hostility.

“Okay, hold on…” Even the DJ leaned over his booth, staring. The entire room fell frighteningly silent.

Coach, sweating, sputtered, “I was… I mean, I wasn’t… I’m not… You guys don’t think I’m…”

From the sidelines, Allison covered her mouth, trying not to laugh as Coach finally stepped back, defeated and embarrassed.

He muttered to the crowd of students, “What the hell are you looking at, Greenberg?” and wandered off.

Scott exhaled in relief and turned back to Danny. “Thanks, dude. I owe you.”

He released Danny, who turned to face his boyfriend, returning to the dance floor with two filled drink cups and a rather displeased look. Danny gave a sheepish smile, shaking his head.

Allison moved toward Scott, falling perfectly under the spotlight as if the moment had been timed. Before Scott could even speak—

“Yes. I’d love to dance with you.”

Scott and Allison danced together, swaying easily to the music, lost in the moment. Their laughter and smiles made everything else fade away.

But Lydia felt a bad feeling—a really bad one. She kept glancing around the room, a knot of unease tightening in her stomach.

Stiles noticed her tension and leaned closer. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

She forced a smile. “Yeah… just tired,” she said, though the unease in her eyes betrayed her words.“You mean you need to find Jackson,” he teased lightly.

She froze for a moment, confused, then remembered she needed an excuse to leave. She nodded, playing along. “Yeah… I get it.”

Stiles guided her off the dance floor, moving past Scott and Allison, who were still lost in their own world, unaware of the tension building around them. 

Lydia left calmly and she made it to the lacrosse field.

“Till we meet again, Peter Hale,” she said, her voice steady, though her heart raced.

Peter stared at her, confusion flickering across his face. But the confusion quickly shifted—his eyes grew predatory, sharp and unrelenting.

Lydia took a cautious step back, slowly retreating as Peter advanced.

“Lydia!”

She whipped around, spotting Stiles racing toward her.

“Run! Lydia, run!” he shouted.

But for some reason, her legs felt heavy, her breath caught in her chest. She couldn’t move.

Turning back, her eyes locked on Peter. He approached calmly, unnervingly slow, yet every step carried menace. Then his face changed—his mouth opened impossibly wide, the jaw stretching unnaturally, monstrous fangs sliding into place between his lips.

Lydia’s scream tore through the night, sharp and terrified.

It all went blank.

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Allison stayed close to her aunt, forcing herself to appear compliant, hoping Lydia's plan was working. She had to make sure Kate believed she was following orders, even as her mind raced with worry.

From her vantage point, Allison watched Derek and Scott moving cautiously when Kate gave her a signal. She raised her bow, ready.

Suddenly, a sound ripped through the air—a whistling that made Allison's stomach drop. Derek snapped his head up with a pained gasp.

An arrow had pierced his jacket just under his collarbone. Time seemed to slow as he shoved Scott out of the way, trying to shield him from the line of fire.

Scott's eyes locked with incredible focus on a ridge up the hill. A dark silhouette pulled back the drawstring of a black compound bow.

"Now the leg," Kate ordered, her voice low and cold.

Allison's eye narrowed as she aimed, knocking an arrow herself. She pulled it back and released it. The arrow struck Derek's leg with brutal precision, sending him crashing to the ground.

Scott flinched as if the arrow had hit him instead, heart hammering.

Kate's voice rang out again. "The flash bolt. Now."

In less than a second, Allison had swapped arrows, nocking a new one with a conical-shaped flash bolt at the tip. Her hands were steady, her eyes locked on the target.

"Your eyes—Scott!" he shouted, knowing timing was everything.

"See natural talent," Kate said, her tone indifferent.

With the bow at her side, Allison's eyes remained locked on Scott as he and Derek reached the yard just in front of the house. Derek collapsed, broken arrow shafts still jutting out of him.

"Scott, go!" But Scott's own eyes fluttered, still unable to see anything—just a silhouetted figure coming toward him.

"Allison, this isn't you. Think about what you're doing."

"Shoot him before I have to shoot myself."

"You said we were going to catch them."

"And we did that. Now we're going to kill them."

Kate withdraws a Glock from her jacket and chambers a round. She approaches Derek with a terrifying casualness and FIRES a shot straight into him. Allison gasps as Derek's body collapses to the ground.

"See? It's not that hard." She looks up at Allison, who suddenly seems to see her favorite aunt for who she truly is: a cold, unrepentant sociopath.

"Okay, I know that look. That's the 'you're going to have to do this yourself' look."

Kate turns the gun on Scott, aiming at his head.

"What are you doing? Kate?"

Scott's vision returns just in time to see the barrel pointed at him.

"Love those brown eyes." She begins to pull back on the trigger.

"Kate!" Argent steps out of the shadows, gun drawn and aimed at his sister.

"I know what you did. Put the gun down."

Kate's eyes flick toward the house behind them—Allison and Argent both notice.

"I did what I was asked to do."

"No one asked you to murder innocent people. There were children in that house. Children who were human. And now look at you—aiming a gun at a sixteen-year-old boy with no proof he's shed human blood. We live by the code: Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent.We hunt the ones who hunt us."

"Now put the gun down." Argent raises his weapon. "Before I put you down."

Seething but powerless, Kate finally lowers the gun. As she does, Argent notices the door to the Hale house CREAKING open behind her.

The cold wind whistles through the night. Derek and Scott both look up simultaneously, their

eyes beginning to GLOW—an instinctive response to the arrival of their pack leader.

"Allison, get back."

"What is it?"

Scott peers into the darkness beyond the door. "It's the Alpha..."

Something BLURS past him. His gun clatters to the ground. An instant later, his body hits the earth, unconscious.

Allison SCREAMS—but before she can react, a blur hurtles toward her, knocking her compound bow out of her hands. It skids across the yard.

Scott lunges forward—but his feet lift off the ground. In a heartbeat, he's tumbling among the leaves with a PAINED CRY.

Kate whips her gun around, eyes scanning the shadows.

"Come on..."

She FIRES into the darkness.

"Come on!"

Suddenly, Peter materializes next to her, grabbing her wrist. Gunfire rattles around them, but he doesn't falter. With inhuman strength, he twists her arm. Kate SCREAMS as her gun is wrenched from her grip.

He pulls her off her feet, dragging her back as she struggles, helpless against him.

Allison stops short inside, glancing about in the darkness.Breath held, she steps past the stairwell to find--Peter holding Kate in front of him by the fireplace in the charred living room. His fingers press to her throat, right at her larynx.She's beautiful, Kate. She looks like you. Probably not as damaged.

"You have every right to hate my family."Allison spoke in a neutral tone.

Peter started shocked

"Im not gonna stop you, I think you are in every right to kill her."

Peter started, "What kind of game are you playing at?"

Allison shook her head "No games."

Allison stared at Kate straight in the eye "I hate code breakers. I think you should make her suffer like you did."

Kate gasped fear in her eyes and Peter simply smiled. Apologize. Say you're sorry for decimating my family. For leaving me burned and broken for six years.Say it and I'll let you live" Peter spoke with such emotion.

I'm... I'm sorry.

Peter nods. Then presses his fingers tighter into Kate's throat. And with the sound of tearing flesh, his CLAWS

PROTRACT, sticking right into Kate's neck. Allison SHRIEKS as Peter pulls his hand away covered in blood. Kate's body falls-- And as she falls, IMAGES flash into her mind, given to her in the same way Peter gave pieces of his life to Scott and how Jackson culled bits of Derek's experiences. And every image she sees is a face screaming out through black smoke and fire. Kate falls dead to the floor.

"I don't know about you, Allison. But that apology? It just didn't sound very sincere."

Claws out, he started toward her. Fabric tore under his expanding body, and the black coat fell away. His pants split at the seams as his skin darkened underneath. Until finally—

Allison stared up in horror at a seven-foot creature standing before her. But the Alpha paused when he heard a growl. Turning, he saw Scott slowly rising from the darkness, lifting his head to reveal he'd transformed. Another growl drew the red eyes of Derek, who stepped into the light, fully shifted and ready to attack.

It all happened so fast that Allison was so in her head she hadn't realized Peter was dead until she smelled fire.

She moved closer to Derek and put a hand on his shoulder. Peter was evil—but he was his only remaining family member.

"Derek, you should burn her body. It's only fair she killed you. She should rest the same as them."

Allison's father stared at her "Allison think this through."

She turned to her dad "No this ends here it started with her it ends with her there will be no more death because of this family.

They burned her body. Allison didn't want to leave till she was sure Kate was gone for good.

Derek stood eyes red "Thank you."

Allison was quiet; she was sure this was just the beginning.

Chapter 10

Notes:

This is like an introduction/ entry to get to Know my Oc Spenser.

Chapter 10

Lydia was back in her dream-like state. Soft golden light filtered through the air, and the ground beneath her felt like clouds. Trees with silver leaves swayed gently, and a faint, sweet fragrance hung in the breeze.

Thalia appeared from the mist, smiling warmly. "Hello, Lydia. It's nice to see you again.

"You will wake soon. When you bring Peter back, he will remember... and Spencer is closer than you think."

Before Lydia could speak, Thalia was gone, leaving only the faint shimmer of light where she had stood. The air felt colder, and the soft hum of the dream world faded, replaced by a heavy silence that pressed against Lydia's chest. Her heart raced, and a shiver ran down her spine as the words lingered in her mind, mysterious and urgent.

She woke up startled and she hoped everything would be better.

—----------------------------------

Dear diary,

When I met Adame during my freshman year of high school, we were just good friends. By junior year, we started dating. At first, it felt like everything was perfect—he made me laugh, and I felt like I finally had someone who understood me.

But that summer before senior year, everything changed. We had an argument about something trivial, and he hit me. I froze, unable to process what had just happened. He promised it would never happen again, but it did. Each time, the fear in his eyes and the anger in his voice kept me trapped, tangled between love, guilt, and terror.

I was terrified to leave—not just because of him, but because of my parents and his threats. I felt alone, like no one could see the storm inside me. That fear kept me silent, kept me hidden.

That morning, I woke up and covered my bruises with long sleeves, careful not to let anyone see. My parents were so focused on Malissa and Eliot that nobody noticed what was really happening to me. I wanted to scream, to run away, to tell someone—but the weight of shame and fear pinned me in place.

Sometimes I wonder if anyone would believe me, if anyone would care. Some days, I feel like I'm disappearing, a shadow in my own home. But writing this down... even if it's just here, in your diary, it's a small way of holding on to myself.

I Remember the day it all came to a head.Malissa called everyone to the kitchen, including me. She was holding her fiancé Sam's hand, nervous and uncomfortable, and announced she was pregnant. They planned to move into the loft next week—my escape, my safe place. I panicked.

"But Mom and Dad said the loft would be mine," I said, voice hoarse. They just smirked and brushed it off, telling me I could move in after the baby. I tried to convince myself it didn't hurt, but inside I felt empty.

At school, Hannah, my best friend, caught me and saw through my lies. I admitted my parents wanted me to marry Adame this summer like they did at my age. She promised to protect me if he ever hurt me again. I told her if it happened, she'd be the first to know. But when Malissa's pregnancy was announced, I felt my last hope slip away. I broke down, telling Hannah I couldn't do it anymore.

I had to see Adame—to end it. Hannah waited outside while I went in. I heard noises, took out my phone, and caught him cheating with Ian, a friend. Shocked, I recorded everything. When he confronted me, I told him we were over. He tried to choke me, but I fought back, grabbed glass, and warned him to stay away. I ran out, and Hannah and I escaped together. Weeks later, Hannah's boyfriend Mike made sure Adame paid for what he did.

For a while, things seemed better. Then one night, my mother, drunk and cruel, forced Adame's proposal on me. I panicked and refused, yelling about the abuse he'd inflicted. My family turned on me, calling me selfish and a disappointment. I felt utterly alone. I ran, threw up, and carried the weight of their hate.

Later, I tried to end it all. I left Hannah a note and slashed my wrists in the bathtub. The pain was overwhelming, but when I woke, Hannah and Eliot were there, holding me together. Victor,

my real father, came to visit and told me the truth about my mother and my twin sister who had died at birth. The shock was too much; I fainted.

All this, along with a miscarriage caused by stress and blood loss, made the following weeks hell. But with Hannah's care, therapy, and moving into her home, I slowly rebuilt myself.

Now I'm in my first year at college I'm determined to start over. I'll be happy to see Lydia and I'll be happy to move on from all this pain. Most of all I'll never let anyone hurt me again.

Chapter 11

Summary:

I tried my best on this chapter

Chapter 11 

Lydia was still at the hospital when her dad showed up, which was a surprise because she barely ever saw him.

She went to stand, but her father turned to her. “You want help?”

Lydia sighed. “No thanks.”

She walked to the shower by herself, glad to be alone—even if only for a little while. Lydia yanked the shower curtain open and turned on the water. Slipping off the hospital gown, she stepped under the steaming spray.

While gently gliding her fingers over the still-healing bite on her side, she didn’t notice the water gathering in the tub at her feet, as if the drain were clogged. It was strangely murky and rising steadily.

Down the corridor, Stiles dropped change into a vending machine. Selecting a candy bar, he waited for it to come tumbling down. But, of course, it got stuck.

“Seriously?”

He tapped on the Plexiglas window of the machine. The candy bar didn’t budge. So he gave the glass a smack. Nothing. He pounded on it with his fist. Still nothing.

Stiles spread his legs for maximum leverage and awkwardly gripped the sides of the vending machine to shake the candy bar loose.

“Son-of-a-freaking—”

Muttering in irrational fury, he rocked the machine back and forth. Just as the candy bar was almost slipping free—

The entire vending machine lurched forward and SLAMMED onto the floor with a thunderous crash.

Stiles froze. He stared down at the very heavy machine now lying on its face right in front of him.

Having heard the crash, Lydia pulled her head out from under the shower spray. Hearing nothing else, she finally noticed the water in the tub had risen past her ankles.

With an irritated sigh, she nudged the drain with her toe. But the water kept rising.

Kneeling down, Lydia reached into the dirty water and slowly pulled up a thin clump of sinewy black hair.

Gagging in disgust as the strands wrapped around her fingers, she kept pulling—digging. Then, just as it seemed she’d grasped the extent of it—

There was more in the drain.

Much more.

Grasping thick tufts of dirt-caked hair, she kept pulling, the water darkening to black as an impossible sight began to rise from the depths—

The head of the wolf Its dead eyes gazed up at Lydia—And she let loose a torrent of Screaming.

Stiles snapped his attention away from the vending machine when he heard the panicked shrieking. He scrambled over the fallen machine and launched himself down the hall.

“Lydia? Lydia!”

He burst into the room, with Melissa and Mr. Martin rushing in right behind him.

“What the hell was that?”

They gathered at the open bathroom door to find the shower still running, water spilling over the side of the tub. The window was open, the curtains fluttering in the wind.

But there was no sign of Lydia.

She was gone.

Still on the roof outside, listening to Allison and her mother, Scott’s head snapped up when another sound came hurtling through the wind a scream.

One he recognized immediately.

“Lydia…”

Stiles called Scott and Allison and there was no telling what might happen to Lydia.

—---------------------------------------

Lydia didn’t remember much—only the feeling of death, of cold air pressing in on her skin, and the overwhelming urge to scream.

Then, suddenly, there was something solid beneath her feet.

Concrete.

She pushed a branch aside with trembling fingers, trying to make sense of her surroundings. The world felt hazy, like she’d surfaced too fast from deep water. Leaves and brush clung to her, barely concealing her lower half. Her skin prickled in the open air.

“Lydia?”

The voice sounded far away at first, muffled and unreal.

But then it came again—clearer this time, closer.

“Lydia?”

Her name crystallized in the air, striking her like a shock. She blinked, arms instinctively crossing over herself as she turned toward the sound.

And found herself staring at Sheriff Stilinski, his deputies, the driver… and a very wide-eyed Stiles.

They were all staring at her.

Lydia stared back in confusion, her mind struggling to catch up with reality. For a long, painfully silent moment, no one moved. No one spoke. The only sound was the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Everyone looked deeply, profoundly uncomfortable.

Finally, exasperation cut through the fog in her head. With a frustrated huff, Lydia threw up her arms—revealing her irritation… among other things.

“Well?” she snapped. “Is anyone going to get me a coat?”

Stiles made a strangled sound.

His knees nearly buckled as he lunged for his father’s jacket, fingers fumbling desperately with the sleeves. He caught himself just before collapsing entirely, grabbed the jacket properly, and hurried forward.

Without meeting her eyes—because that would be dangerous, possibly fatal—he draped it around her shoulders as carefully as if she were made of glass.

Up close, she was freezing.

His hands trembled as he pulled the jacket tighter around her. “You—uh—you’re okay,” he managed weakly, voice cracking halfway through.

Lydia looked at him, still dazed, still shivering—but now at least covered.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of Stiles’ shirt as if she were afraid he might disappear, as if this might be another cruel hallucination waiting to dissolve. For a second, she just stood there in his arms, rigid and shaking.

Then he wrapped his arms around her.

Not tentative. Not unsure.

Tight.

Stiles held her like he’d been waiting to do exactly this—like he’d been bracing himself for the possibility that he never would again. One hand pressed protectively between her shoulder blades, the other cradled the back of her head, shielding her from the world.

That was all it took.

The tears broke free.

A soft, broken sound escaped her as she buried her face against his chest, clutching him tighter. Her composure—the sharp edges, the control, the Lydia Martin who always had the answer—crumbled completely.

She let herself cry.

Stiles didn’t say anything at first. He just held her, jaw tight, eyes glassy, like if he spoke he might fall apart too. His chin rested against the top of her head, and he squeezed her just a little tighter when her shoulders started shaking harder.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured finally, his voice rough. “I’ve got you, Lyds. You’re okay. You’re here.”

She missed her Stiles so much.

Missed the warmth of him. Missed the way he grounded her, the way his heartbeat under her ear reminded her she was alive. Missed the stupid jokes, the frantic rambling, the way he always showed up.

Even when she didn’t ask.

Even when she didn’t deserve it.

Her hands fisted in his shirt as if she could anchor herself to him forever.

They took her back to the hospital. Her parents held her and she was under observation and said she would be there probably a week. 

God she wished this nightmare would end.

—-------------------------------------------

Spencer finally made it to her aunt and uncle’s house.

It was bigger than she expected—two stories, wide porch, tall windows that reflected the late afternoon light. It didn’t feel like somewhere temporary. It felt established. Permanent.

She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and walked up the steps. For a moment, she just stood there, staring at the door, working up the nerve.

Then she knocked.

Footsteps approached from inside. The door opened.

Her uncle stood there, relief softening his features the second he saw her.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Before she could brace herself, he pulled her into a hug.

It was warm. Solid. Real.

Spencer stiffened at first, her arms hovering awkwardly at her sides before she slowly let them

rest against his back. The house smelled like laundry detergent and something cooking in the kitchen. It felt… normal.

Too normal.He pulled back just enough to look at her, hands still on her shoulders.

“How have you been,” he asked gently, “after what happened with your parents?”

The words landed like a stone in her chest.

Spencer immediately stepped out of his grasp, putting space between them. Her jaw tightened, her eyes hardening in an instant.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He nodded slowly, raising his hands in surrender.

“It’s all good,” he said gently, not pushing.

Spencer gave a short nod, grateful he didn’t press. The air between them still felt heavy, so she shifted her weight and forced her voice to stay steady.

“Where’s Lyds?”

At that, her uncle’s expression changed. The ease slipped away.

He sighed.

“She was involved in an animal attack,” he explained carefully. “She went missing for a day. They just found her. She’s at the hospital with her mother right now.”

Spencer’s stomach dropped.

“What?” The word came out sharper than she intended.

“I just got back to change,” he added, running a tired hand over his face. “Your aunt’s still there with her.”

For a moment, Spencer just stood there, her thoughts racing. Lydia. Missing. Animal attack. Hospital.

She had barely made it through the door and already the ground felt like it was shifting again.

“Is she—” Spencer swallowed. “Is she okay?”

Her uncle hesitated.

“She’s alive,” he said finally. “Shaken. But alive.”

Spencer didn’t wait for anything else.

“I want to visit her,” Spencer said immediately.

There was no hesitation in her voice this time. No walls. Just urgency.

Her uncle shook his head gently.

“You just got here,” he reminded her. “You’ve barely stepped inside. I think you should rest.”

Spencer’s fingers curled around the strap of her bag again, knuckles whitening.

“Besides,” he continued, softer now, “I want your arrival to be a surprise for when she gets out of the hospital.”

That gave her pause.

A surprise.

The word settled somewhere between comfort and frustration. She imagined Lydia walking through the door, pale and shaken—and then seeing her. Maybe smiling. Maybe not feeling so alone.

Still, the idea of Lydia lying in a hospital bed while she sat here doing nothing made her chest tighten.

“I don’t need rest,” Spencer muttered, though her exhaustion was written plainly across her face.

Her uncle stepped closer, his tone firm but kind. “You’ve been through a lot too. One night. That’s all I’m asking. She’s stable. She’s with her mom.”

Spencer looked toward the stairs, then back at the open doorway behind him, as if she could somehow see the hospital from there.

Finally, she exhaled.

“Fine,” she said quietly.

Her uncle hugged her good night as she settled down for the night.”

Chapter 12

Notes:

We finally get some of Spencers pov

Chapter 12

Spencer moved quietly through the house, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in her chest.

Her aunt had left the guest room ready for her—fresh sheets, a cleared desk, space in the closet. It was thoughtful. Intentional. Like they’d been preparing for her.

She set her suitcase on the bed and unzipped it.

One by one, she unpacked her clothes, folding them with mechanical precision before placing them into the dresser drawers. Shirts aligned by color. Jeans stacked evenly. Shoes lined neatly along the wall. Order helped. Order made things feel controllable.

When she finished with her clothes, she turned her attention to the desk.

Books came next.

She arranged them carefully—spines straight, tallest to shortest. Notebooks stacked. Pens placed in a cup at the right-hand corner. Her laptop centered exactly where it belonged. Within minutes, the space transformed into something familiar.

The small pocket of structure in an otherwise unfamiliar house.

But when she turned around, the illusion cracked.

There were still boxes.

Three stacked near the closet. Two by the door. One half-open at the foot of the bed, filled with framed photos she hadn’t yet decided whether she could bear to set out.

Spencer stared at them for a long moment.

The room looked halfway lived in—like someone who wasn’t sure how long they were staying.

She sank down onto the edge of the bed, hands resting in her lap, eyes drifting back to the boxes.

There was still so much to unpack.

Not just the cardboard ones.

Spencer couldn’t sit still any longer.

After unpacking what she could, she slipped out of the house and started walking. The neighborhood was quiet—tree-lined streets, trimmed hedges, the faint hum of distant traffic. It was peaceful in a way that felt almost unnatural after everything that had happened.

Cool air brushed against her face as she walked. She let it clear her head.

Lydia would be home tonight.

The thought repeated itself like a countdown.

By the time Spencer made it back, dusk had started to settle in. The house lights glowed warmly through the windows. She stopped by a local pizza place on the way, ordering Lydia’s favorite without hesitation—extra cheese, light sauce, exactly the way she liked it.

At home, she set the pizza boxes carefully on the coffee table.

Then she queued up Lydia’s favorite movie, dimming the lights just enough to make the living room feel soft and safe instead of dim and lonely. She arranged blankets on the couch, fluffing the pillows like it mattered.

If Lydia was coming home shaken, exhausted, scared—

She wouldn’t come home to silence.

Spencer sat down on the couch, glancing toward the front door every few seconds, listening for headlights in the driveway.

Everything was ready.

Now she just had to wait.

—--------------------------------------

Lydia’s father drove her home, staying silent the entire way. He didn’t even bother to see her go inside.

The house felt unusually quiet as Lydia stepped through the door. The living room was dark, shadows pooling in the corners. She hugged her bag tighter, a strange sense of unease settling in. Something about the silence made her skin prickle.

Then, suddenly, the lights snapped on.

“Surprise!”

“Spencer?!” Lydia’s voice cracked between shock and relief. She didn’t pause for anything else—she ran forward, throwing herself into Spencer’s arms. The hug was tight, desperate, full of the relief that only comes after fear. They laughed and held onto each other, giggling uncontrollably.

“You—bitch! You scared me! When did you get here? Why are you here?” Lydia laughed, breathless.

“I transferred colleges,” Spencer said, grinning despite the nerves still lingering in her chest. “Starting Monday, I’ll be a sophomore at [random college].”

Lydia pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes wide. “Wow, really? Why’d you agree? I thought you were transferring to Duke University.”

Spencer’s smile faltered. Her face dropped. “That was the plan… until I found out Adame cheated on me with Emma.”

Lydia’s arms tightened around her again. “I can murder him. I’ll make sure no one finds him.” She laughed, a few tears slipping out despite herself.

Spencer chuckled shakily. “You and Hanna are so alike. It terrifies me—she said the same thing.”

Lydia shrugged, smirking through the lingering tears. “Well… great minds think alike.”

The rest of the night slipped by in a warm blur.

They sat cross-legged on the couch, pizza boxes open on the coffee table, the glow of the TV flickering across their faces. They laughed, reminisced, and shared secrets, catching up on everything they’d missed.

For once, there was no danger, no fear, no chaos.

Just the two of them, together.

And it felt like coming home.

Chapter 13

Notes:

I I what to know what you think of this chapter I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 13

Spencer got ready for her first day of school, her heart a mix of excitement and nerves. Beacon Hills was unfamiliar—a town full of secrets she was determined to uncover as a budding journalist. The recent murders had shaken the community; random attacks with no clear pattern, each one stranger than the last. College was more than just classes for Spencer—it was a chance to launch her career and, perhaps, forge connections that went tied to her family.

Her first day went well. Her professors were nice, and she was starting to like it.

—------------------------------------

Lydia wasn’t having much luck. The whole school seemed to think she was crazy, and after her hug with Stiles, things between them had become… awkward.

Lydia met up with Allison at the library. She needed to tell her the truth—what was coming.

“Allison, after school… Can we go somewhere to talk?” Lydia asked softly.

Allison frowned, worry creeping in. “Is something wrong?”

Lydia shook her head. “That depends on how you’ll take the news. I’ll tell you everything… but after school.”

Allison smiled, “Ok ill be there.”

After school, Lydia led Allison to a small, quiet café. Once they had their drinks, Lydia finally spoke.

“Allison… what I’m about to tell you could either make or break you. I need to be sure you can handle the truth.”

Allison tried to stay calm, but her voice wavered. “Lydia… you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

Lydia sighed, her eyes darkening. “Your mother… she will try to kill herself in the future. She already tried to kill Scott, and Derek… he bit her by accident while trying to save Scott. And your grandfather… he’ll use all of this to manipulate you. To twist you… turn you into a… Kate 2.0.”

Lydia watched Allison’s face, searching for any sign of how she was taking the news.

“And… when does this happen?” Allison asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lydia hesitated, biting her lip. “I don’t know exactly… but soon. Too soon, maybe. That’s why I needed to tell you now.”

Allison swallowed hard, her hands trembling around her cup. “I… I don’t know if I can handle this.”

Lydia reached out, resting a hand on hers. “You can. I’ll help you. You’re not alone in this.”

“I need to make sure you know the truth… and that you don’t fall for Gerard’s tricks—or try to hurt Derek, because he wasn’t at fault.”

Allison didn’t know how to take it. She just stared, tears spilling down her face.

The rest of the night, Lydia explained everything—the Kanima, what had happened, and how it had all gone down. Allison listened, trembling, but slowly began to steel herself, preparing for what was to come.

—--------------------------------

Spencer had just arrived home. She was glad to kick off her shoes and dig into some leftover pizza. The house was quiet—Lydia was out, and her aunt Natalie was… God knew where. Perfect. Just what I needed.

Then came the thumping and grunting from Lydia’s room. Heart racing, she grabbed her pepper spray and tiptoed toward the door.

She swung it open—and froze. A tall, imposing man was standing there. Not exactly the welcoming committee I was expecting. Without thinking, she sprayed him and followed up with a solid punch. Both of them screamed.

“Ahh! Son of a—”

Spencer leaned against the doorframe, eyebrow raised. “Really? This is how you introduce yourself?”

The man groaned, clutching his face. “I… I have this bad boy, and if you haven’t noticed, I’m not afraid to use it. Who… who are you?”

Spencer smirked. “Oh, I’m the girl who apparently lives in the safest neighborhood on the planet. Nice to meet you.”

He stood rubbing his eyes like nothing had happened. I need to keep my story straight, Derek thought, forcing calm into his voice. “I’m not a stalker or anything. I’m a friend of Lydia’s, and she let me borrow her car. She told me to come in through the back door and leave them in her room.”

She stepped back, holding back a laugh. Great. Laugh at me. Perfect.He tried to keep his glare neutral, but his eyes were red, He was hoping she wouldn't notice.

She dragged him toward the bathroom, where boxers and suitcases were still scattered from the recent move. “Whoah, easy big guy. You almost fell.”

She took a dry rag, wetting it under the faucet. As she dabbed it gently over his eyes, he flinched—his eyes were burning, but the redness was already fading. She didn't understand how he was so calm.

“I think we should reintroduce ourselves. I’m Spencer, Lydia’s cousin, staying here for college,” she said.

He just stayed quiet. She doesn’t need to know my real name yet… Spencer will do it.

“Ok… I’m sensing you’re not much of a talker. That's okay?” she asked.

He watched the redness almost completely leave his eyes. Focus on the eyes. Don’t let her see the rest.

“Man, you are one lucky guy. I remember the first time I got it—I accidentally sprayed myself in the eyes. My eyes burned for days.”

He didn’t respond. Lucky? She has no idea.

“Why did you even need pepper spray?” He asked.

He stopped her hand with a softer grip than she was used to. She can’t know it was for… other reasons. “Well… not all girls are lucky,” she said, letting a half-truth cover the rest.

He went silent, lost in thought. I should leave. Before she asks more. “I’m okay. I should go.”

“Again, I’m sorry,” she said.

He looked at her, a shadow of a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s okay. I understand. I’d probably freak out too if I had a stranger in my house.”

He turned to her agine “Im Derek Hale

She walked him out. Totally not staring at his ass. Meanwhile, Derek inhaled subtly, not knocked out by her scent… not at all…

—-------------------------------------

Allison drove Lydia home in silence.

The entire ride, the words echoed in her head, over and over again, like they were stitched into her thoughts.

“Your mother… she will try to kill herself in the future.”

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel.

She didn’t say goodbye when Lydia got out. She just waited until the door shut, then pulled away from the curb a little too fast.

The drive back to her house was a blur of red lights and pounding thoughts. By the time she made it home, her chest felt tight.

The house was dark.

Of course her parents weren’t home.

She stepped inside, the quiet almost mocking her. The door slammed harder than she intended.

“Your mother… she will try to kill herself in the future.”

“No,” Allison muttered under her breath, tossing her keys onto the table. “No, no, no.”

She headed upstairs quickly, her breathing uneven. The second she reached her room, she shut the door behind her.

For a moment, she just stood there.

Then something inside her snapped.

Her hand shot out, knocking books off her desk. They hit the floor with heavy thuds. She grabbed the stack of papers beside them and flung them across the room.

“Stop!” she shouted at no one.

She yanked at the shelves on her wall, pictures clattering down. A frame shattered against the floor. She didn’t even flinch.

“Your mother… she will try to kill herself in the future.”

“Shut up!” she screamed, gripping the edge of her bookshelf and tearing it down. It crashed forward, spilling everything with it.

Her breathing turned ragged. She kicked at the fallen books, shoved her chair into the wall, sending it tipping over.

Tears blurred her vision.“No, she won’t,” Allison choked out, her voice breaking. “She wouldn’t. She can’t.”

Her hands shook as she grabbed the nearest thing—a lamp—and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall and shattered, glass scattering across the carpet.

The room was a mess.

Shelves torn down. Papers everywhere. Broken glass glittering under the dim light.

Allison stood in the middle of it, chest heaving, fists clenched so tight her knuckles ached.

“Your mother… she will try to kill herself in the future.”

Her knees finally gave out.

She sank to the floor amid the wreckage, hands clutching her hair, a broken sob ripping from her chest.

And the house stayed silent around her.

—----------------------------------

When Lydia arrived home, she went straight to her room. She shut the door a little harder than she meant to and leaned against it for a second, staring at nothing.

She changed into her pajamas and got ready for bed, even though she wasn’t planning on sleeping yet. Tired, she sat at her desk, finishing the homework she hadn’t been able to get to earlier. She always did her work between classes, always stayed ahead.

Tonight was different.

After having to drop the news to Allison, she couldn’t focus. The conversation kept replaying in her head.

Lydia focused and got as much work done as she could, forcing herself to ignore the thoughts still circling her mind. She kept her head down, pen moving steadily across the page, determined to finish at least something.

A soft knock at her door interrupted her.

She froze.

“Lydia?” Spencer’s voice came gently from the other side. “May I come in?”

Lydia glanced at the door, hesitating for only a second. “Yeah. It’s open.”

Spencer peeked in slowly before stepping inside. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

Spencer chuckled softly. “At this hour?”

She stepped further into the room, glancing around before her eyes landed back on Lydia. “Guess we Martins never change.” her tone shifted and it sounded bitter.

Lydia let out a quiet breath, leaning back in her chair. “Guess not.”

Spencer crossed her arms lightly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Late-night cramming, pretending we’re not exhausted, acting like everything’s fine.”

Lydia gave her a look. “I am fine.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”For a moment, neither of them said anything. The familiar comfort of teasing hung between them, but it didn’t quite cover the tension in Lydia’s shoulders.

Spencer’s voice softened. “You want to talk about it?”

Lydia glanced down at her closed notebook, fingers resting on the cover. “Not really.”

Spencer nodded slowly. “Okay. But I’m here if you need anything.”

Spencer turned to leave, her hand already on the doorknob, when she suddenly paused and looked back over her shoulder.

“Oh, by the way,” she said casually, “your friend Derek is pretty cute.”

Lydia’s brows shot up. “What?”

Spencer turned around fully now, far too innocent. “Your friend. Derek Hale. The one you let borrow your car.”

Lydia blinked, confused for half a second, but quickly played along. “Oh. Derek. Yeah. He came by?”

Spencer nodded. “Yeah. I may have… pepper-sprayed him. And punched him.”

Lydia stared at her. “You did what?”

“I thought he was an intruder,” Spencer said defensively, though there was a sarcastic edge to her tone. “In my defense, he was lurking. Very tall. Very broody. Very suspicious jawline.”

Lydia couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped her. “Oh my God. I can just imagine the look on his face.”

Spencer smirked. “Oh, it was priceless. Equal parts pain and betrayal.”

She turned back toward the door again, then hesitated. “So… is he your boyfriend?”

Lydia gave her a flat look. “No. He’s just a friend. Why?”

“Mm-hmm.” Spencer nodded slowly, clearly unconvinced. “No reason. Just asking about the extremely attractive man you loan vehicles to.”

“Spencer.”

“What? I support your life choices.”

Lydia narrowed her eyes. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m being observant,” Spencer corrected smoothly. Then she waved a hand dismissively. “Anyway. Good night. Have nice dreams.”

“Spencer—”

But she was already halfway out the door.

“And tell your not-boyfriend I’m sorry about the pepper spray!” she called sweetly before practically flying down the hall.

Lydia shook her head, still smiling.

“Unbelievable.”