Title: The Dark Side of The Moon
Authors: Sxymami0909 and Xtremeroswelian
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Stiles/Lydia, Isaac/Allison, Scott/Kira, Derek, Deaton, Sheriff Stilinski,
Timeline: Season 3B
Banner: By Sxymami0909
Summary: The ritual is done, but the consequences aren't over. The door inside Stiles' head is still open and they're running out of time to get it closed. Lydia's powers are growing and Derek might hold the key to a link in her past. With Stiles slowly losing his mind and Lydia being the only person who can help him keep it together, the pack is in a race against time to help their friend. Will they be able to close the door in time or will Stiles be lost to them forever?
A textbook rested against Lydia’s chest and her brows furrowed deep in her sleep. She shifted against the soft mattress as something inside of her stirred. She was no longer resting peacefully, her hand clenching the sheets at her side as her heartbeat picked up speed. Something flashed behind her eyes, her stomach dropping as anxiety rose in her chest. Images moved frantically behind her eyes and before Lydia knew what was happening her body lurched from the bed throwing the textbook off her chest. It landed with a heavy weight against her legs as her mouth opened wide and a scream tore from her throat.
The sound was shrill, loud, and lasted close to a minute. When it ended her throat closed up and she gasped for breath, her eyes red-rimmed as fear filled her. It had been months since she’d been woken from sleep by a scream. Weeks since the lingering stench of death had invaded her senses. She ran a shaky hand through her hair and swallowed heavily while shoving the textbook from her legs to the bed.
Lydia glanced around the brightly lit room thankful that her Mom was away for the weekend. The last thing she needed was to deal with her questions yet again. There were only so many lies she could tell, despite how good she was getting at them. Lydia dropped her bare legs to the floor, still dressed in her clothes from earlier, and stood up.
She padded across the floor to her bathroom and reached for the facet. Lydia turned on the water and glanced at her reflection sighing at the image that stared back. She could remember what had made her scream, but the feeling whatever it was left behind didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Something wasn’t right, she could feel it. A storm was coming and Lydia had a feeling it was going to hit closer to home than she would have liked.
Lydia cupped her hands under the water, bent over, and splashed some on her face. She shut the water and patted her face dry with one of the wash cloths. When she was done she turned back around and walked into the bedroom glancing at her bed and wincing at the thought of trying to go back to sleep.
Instead she turned and walked over to her vanity. Sitting down Lydia spotted her cell phone and hesitated before lifting it off the vanity and dialing the number that was becoming all too familiar to her. Lydia lifted the phone to her ear and waited for him to answer wondering if he’d even still be awake.
He wasn’t awake. He’d thought that evening when he’d been able to read the words on his dad’s vehicle Objects in mirror are closer than they appear, that it meant it was over. That Scott’s alpha roaring had somehow fixed whatever was wrong with all three of them. Allison could shoot again with a steady hand, Scott could transform at will, and Stiles could read. But when he’d dropped into sleep that night -- face down on his bed without bothering to get undressed what? He was exhausted, he’d immediately fallen into another deep sleep full of broken and disturbing images.
He dreamt of the Nemeton. Of his blood soaking into it when it grabbed him with its creeping vines, pulling him closer and securing him to the wooden stump. He could feel the prickle of thorns digging into his skin and his breath caught as he gasped in pain. He felt them digging deeper, like they were rooting themselves into his chest, into his skin. Everything hurt and he couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t get away.
He sat up in bed, gasping for real and running a shaky hand over his pale face, realizing he was drenched in sweat. At least he hadn’t woke up screaming this time. He couldn’t help but wonder if the Nemeton was just going to haunt them all for the rest of their lives. He wondered if Scott and Allison were dreaming about it, too. Distantly it dawned on him that his cell phone was ringing. He reached out, blinking a few times to try and clear his vision and then pressing the device to his ear.
“Hello?” His voice was full of sleep, and shaky like his hands.
Lydia frowned at the shakiness in Stiles’ voice and she straightened in her seat, the anxiety she’d felt moments before back in full force. “It’s me,” she said softly, “Did I wake you?” she asked though she had a feeling even if she had it wouldn’t exactly be a bad thing.
It only took a moment for her voice to register in his mind and his eyebrows furrowed. Immediately his gaze shot to the clock on his nightstand. It was just after 2 in the morning. Something was wrong. “No. No, it’s okay. What’s going on? You okay?”
Lydia hesitated, that was a loaded question, though she supposed in the grand scheme of things she was doing better than the rest of them. “Sure, as okay as any girl screaming at the tops of her lungs can be.” Lydia rolled her eyes at her words knowing she should probably keep the sarcasm to a minimum. “Sorry, I’m still getting used to this whole wailing woman thing. I don’t like waking up like that” especially when she knew bad things always came along with that scream. Lydia was silent for a moment, “Are you alright?”
Now he was wide awake, already reaching out and flipping on his bedside lamp. He grimaced at the bright light in his eyes for a moment, blocking it out with his hand until they adjusted to the abrupt change in lighting. “You screamed? Like, woke up screaming? Like, dead body out there somewhere and you need me to help you find it?” He reached for his bottle of Adderall, popping the lid off it and dry swallowing one down. He was going to have to be really awake for that, and focused. For the life of him, though, he couldn’t figure out why she was asking him if he was all right, when she was the one who’d woken up with a banshee scream.
She winced, her gaze dropping to her nails on her free hand. She glanced over the polish as she spoke, her voice detached. “Yes Stiles, screaming. But it was different,” she wasn’t quite sure how, but it felt different. Not like it had the other times. Lydia let her hand fall to her lap as she glanced around the empty room almost wishing her parents were home so at least she wasn’t alone, not that she’d ever admit that out loud.
Lydia Martin was not a scared-y cat. “I don’t know if there’s a dead body,” she prayed there wasn’t, “It was a feeling.” Her voice turned serious as she shifted in her chair and glanced at her reflection in the mirror. “A bad feeling. Worse than anything I’ve ever felt.” Lydia admitted grudgingly. She could still feel it. “Maybe I should take a drive, see where I end up.” She suggested finally not sure what else to do, but not really wanting to find yet another dead body, she’d seen enough of those to last a lifetime.
He tried to figure out what she meant by it being different this time, but then she elaborated. His stomach tightened and he climbed out of bed, heading for his closet while he kept the phone pressed to his ear. The worst feeling she’d ever had? Yeah that definitely didn’t sound good. Good times were not ahead for Beacon Hills if the town’s resident psychic-not-psychic-maybe-kind-of-psychic-resident-banshee was having uber bad feelings.
He took a deep, calming breath, stomach twisting more at the idea of her driving out there alone after dark. Sure, she’d done it before, but usually she was in some kind of fugue state and not aware of what she was even doing. This time, she’d reached out, called him, and was talking about going out. He wondered if that meant she was starting to gain some control over her abilities, even if she didn’t realize it. Note to self, he thought. Do more research on banshee super powers.
“Okay, I can be there in like, five minutes. Can you wait that long?” he asked worriedly as he yanked a shirt out of his closet so he could change clothes. “I can go with you.”
His offer didn’t surprise her. Stiles was always there when she needed him. She let out a shaky breath before forcing herself to relax. Get a grip, and pull yourself together, she thought. This wasn’t the time to check out. She needed to be in control of what was happening and the only way to do that was to stay one step ahead of things.
Lydia stood and walked over to her closet grabbing a long sleeve shirt to replace the one she was wearing with her skirt. “I can wait,” she told him while shifting the phone to rest between her ear and shoulder as she unbuttoned her shirt and tossed it aside before tugging the new one on. “Do you think we should call the others?” She asked quietly not sure she wanted to get them involved just yet. Then again if things were going to get violent having Scott or Allison around might be good considering Lydia didn’t plan on dying anytime soon.
Sometimes she wondered how she’d gotten herself involved in all the crazy that Beacon Hills was made up of. But then she remembered she was a mythical harbinger of death and that sort of put things into perspective.
He nodded in relief, though she couldn’t see him, obviously. “Okay, I just gotta change clothes and I’ll head your way.” He paused when she asked about calling the others. “We can if you want to. It’s up to you.” He wasn’t really clear on how her abilities worked, if she sensed that whatever they were going to find was going to involve a lot of danger. So he figured it was best to let her make that call.
Stiles put the speaker phone on for a minute so that he could change shirts and then he picked the phone back up, grabbing his car keys off his dresser and heading out the door of his bedroom, throwing a worried glance toward his dad’s bedroom door. He didn’t want to feel like he was sneaking out anymore, not when his dad knew the truth now, so he’d take a minute and scribble him a note out on the kitchen table so if he woke up, he wouldn’t worry. He knew all of the supernatural stuff was weighing heavily on his dad’s shoulders, thanks in part to Scott’s asshole father trying to get him fired. He didn’t want to add to it.
Lydia grabbed a pair of heels from the closet as she considered Stiles words. She didn’t want to worry the others needlessly and since Stiles was coming to get her she guessed she didn’t really need anyone else. Every other time she’d screamed she always found bodies after the fact. But that was also before she learned what she was.
Lydia slid her feet into her heels, “Let’s leave the others out of it for now. It could be nothing you know,” but even as she said the words she didn’t believe them. Her powers, whatever they were, were changing, growing strong and expanding. Lydia couldn’t explain it and she didn’t understand it and that drove her crazy.
She prided herself on always having the answer to things, that’s who she was, but lately it was getting more difficult to figure out exactly where she stood in the grand scheme of things. “And Stiles, be careful on your way here, please.” Lydia added. It sounded strange, but when she’d woken up once the whole shock screaming again had worn off, Lydia’s first impulse had been to call Stiles.
She wasn’t sure what that meant, but the clenching in her stomach had intensified when she hear his voice even though her body relaxed and that one action alone made her weary.
Stiles finished scratching out the note for his dad and headed out the front door, locking it up behind him. He wondered briefly if maybe he should have grabbed some mountain ash just in case of troublesome werewolves, but mostly he was just concerned with getting to Lydia’s before she took off on her own.
He didn’t really believe that whatever caused her to wake up screaming was nothing, but he didn’t say so. He figured she was probably freaked out enough as it was. No need to make it worse. “Okay, then we wait.” And if and when they found a dead body, he’d call Scott and his dad. He slid into the driver’s seat of the jeep and started the engine, pausing at her next words.
“Yeah, I’ll be careful. Do you want me to stay on the phone while I drive over?” He was half afraid to hang up because what if she did drop into a fugue state and take off before he could get there?
“No,” Lydia said immediately not sure why her reply was so sudden. She licked her lips and swallowed hard the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach growing. “I want you to focus on the road. I’m okay.” Or she would be as soon as the ball of anxiety that was growing inside of her went away.
Lydia was far from stupid and she was starting to think that maybe her scream was warning her of something that was coming instead of something that had already happened and if that was the case, whatever death that was coming could very well be any one of them. Lydia pushed the thought away focused her gaze on her bedroom door and pursed her lips. “I’ll wait for you outside my house. Just...be careful, something is different about this feeling Stiles.” Lydia knew she’d said that already, but she couldn’t help repeating herself.
He hesitated a moment, not really wanting to hang up even though she didn’t want him to drive while he was talking on the phone. It was kind of a nice feeling, to have someone beside Scott or his dad worry about him that way. Strange too, really, “Okay. I’ll be there soon.” Stiles hesitated a second before glancing in his rearview mirror and shifting his jeep into reverse.
“We’ll figure it out,” he said gently. “Just hang in there. I’m on the way.”
Lydia swallowed hard gave a final look in the mirror to check her reflection out of reflex. “I will.” She walked over to the dresser and grabbed her purse, “I’ll see you soon,” she disconnected the call seconds after the words left her mouth. Lydia slid the phone into her purse and stepped out of her room into the hallway.
The sound of her heels echoing in the empty house as she made her way down the steps sent a sudden chill down her spine. Lydia got to the bottom of the steps and turned, glancing over her shoulder and gazing up at the darkened stairwell, the light from her bedroom spilling out into the hallway. She’d forgotten to turn it off, a sigh fell from her lips, “Whatever, it’s just one light,” she mumbled to herself as she walked quickly to the door, catching sight of Prada asleep on the couch and moving as quietly as possible so the dog didn’t wake up and run out as she opened the door.
The air was cool outside as she stepped onto the porch and her brows drew together even as she shut the door behind her and locked it. Maybe she should go back in and get a jacket. Lydia rolled her eyes, jackets didn’t matter. Not right now. She walked down the steps, a slight wind lifting her hair and blowing it around her face. Lydia pushed her hair behind her ear and wrapped her arms around herself, staring into the street waiting for the telltale sign of Jeep lights.
Moments later, Stiles was pulling up in front of her house, relief washing over him when he saw her standing outside at the end of her driveway as she’d promised. Thank god. He really didn’t want to have to try and figure out where she’d gone if she’d wandered off. He shut the engine off and climbed out of the driver’s seat, moving so he was standing in front of her and he reached out to rest his hands on her arms, gazing at her worriedly.
She was a little paler than usual, but given how she’d woken up, he couldn’t really be surprised by that. “Okay, so how do we do this? I drive, you tell me where to go?” They hadn’t gone about it this way before because usually she called him after she wound up wherever it was she was going.
The heat from Stiles hand seeped through her shirt and while at one point she would have found the action offensive, now it reassured her. “I suppose that can work. We’ve never done things this way before,” she acknowledged. “Maybe now that I know what I am,” she paused not sure she liked how that sounded, “The whole screaming my lungs out thing works different.”
Lydia caught Stiles’ gaze. “In Irish mythology banshee’s were known to be attached to certain families and they...they cried out before someone was about to die.” She explained knowing Stiles probably already knew that. He read almost as much as she did. “It doesn’t feel like someone is dead. It feels like,” she stopped talking glancing around them briefly, a shiver sliding down her spine. “Death is coming.” Lydia whispered trying to keep her voice steady not one to show weakness.
Stiles gave her arms a gentle, reassuring squeeze as he listened to her, heard the fear in her voice. He’d heard fear in her voice before, and he hated it. He never liked seeing her afraid, and it felt like he’d seen her afraid a lot in the past few weeks and months. He drew in a breath, nodding as told him about banshees. She was right, he did already know that. He hadn’t spent as much time researching the mythology on banshees as he wanted to, but there had been so much insanity happening that there just hadn’t been enough time. Plus there had been awhile there where he literally couldn’t read at all, so even if he’d had the time, he wouldn’t have gotten very far.
When she shivered, he stepped closer to her, as if he could actually use his body as some kind of physical barrier between her and whatever it was that she sensed was about to happen. He couldn’t, of course, but it wasn’t going to stop him from trying. “Okay. So something is coming. Death is coming,” Again, great. He wondered who it would be this time, and so many terrible possibilities flashed through his mind. Scott, Allison, his dad, Scott’s mom, Isaac, Derek, Cora. It could literally be any of them, or someone else altogether.
“So what do you want to do, Lydia? I can drive us around and stop if you feel a tug or something toward someone’s house.” Stiles’ eyes were full of uncertainty.
Lydia could see the uncertainty on Stiles’ face, she knew he wasn’t sure how to deal with this whole Banshee thing, neither did she, but that never stopped him from trying. She reached out letting her fingers graze his arm and the second it did something feral and dark tore through her. A gasp fell from her mouth as the anxiety from earlier swirled inside her stomach making it drop.
Lydia let her fingers fall from his skin and immediately the darkness that had been surrounding her, suffocating her, faded. Her mind worked quickly as the dread lingering inside of her faded. She met his gaze and pursed her lips, “I’m fine,” she said before he could even ask. Lydia took a minute to look at Stiles, really look at him and she could see the bags under his eyes and the tired look on his face.
“Stiles, are you okay?” She asked repeating her earlier question. Something told her he wasn’t and the distance voice in the back of her head was telling her that the feeling she was getting might be closer to home than normal, but she pushed it aside not wanting to accept what that might mean.
Something was wrong. She touched his arm before gasping and pulling away from him and then she was assuring him she was fine, but he didn’t buy it for a second. If she was fine, why was she gasping and looking like some kind of realization had just hit her?
Stiles’ eyebrows furrowed when she asked him if he was okay, because he wasn’t the one who’d woken up from a dream screaming, even if he’d been close to it when he’d woken up to her calling him. It took his mind a moment to begin putting the pieces together before it dawned on him.
The feeling she had was about him. He sucked in a breath, letting his hands fall away from her arms. He was going to die. It really shouldn’t have surprised him, considering how terrible their lives all were, how much danger that constantly surrounded all of them. But it did surprise him. He was going to die and Lydia felt it. He swallowed hard, opening his mouth to speak before closing it again and then looking away. Well, that sucked. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. I’m all right.” He didn’t know what else to say, really. What could he say? “Hey, Lydia, sorry you’re going to find my dead body soon” ? That just seemed incredibly insensitive and sucky. So he stuck with telling her he was all right.
Lydia could see the second his mind grabbed onto the same conclusion as hers. “Take a deep breath.” She said automatically getting herself under control so she could focus on helping Stiles calm down. She took a step towards him, hesitating before reaching out and resting her hands on his shoulders bracing for an onslaught of darkness, but nothing came and relief washed over her. Thank god, she thought. “This might not mean anything. I don’t know how this works Stiles,” though she knew a couple of werewolves who might, not that that helped any since Peter and Derek were currently AWOL.
“It could be nothing,” she said her voice coming out stronger than it felt, the thought of Losing Stiles stirred something deeper inside of her, something that Lydia wasn’t sure she could deal with at the moment. “Talk to me, are you still having nightmares?” She asked a frown pulling at her lips.
He did as she said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Despite the fact the realization probably should have triggered some sort of panic, right then he just felt numb. She said it might not mean anything, but every time she’d had one of her feelings, someone had ended up dead. Every single time. Why would this turn out any different, just because it was him, and he was somehow more inherently connected to all of the supernatural that happened in Beacon Hills than most? It wasn’t like it gave him some sort of immunity to death. He was still just as human, just as mortal and vulnerable as most. Maybe more so.
He blinked a couple of times, forcing himself to focus on her face, on her question. Was he still having nightmares? He could barely remember a time when he hadn’t been having nightmares. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly, feeling eerily still about his own impending death. Maybe when the shock wore off, it would hit him later. “I was having one when you called, actually.”
Lydia glanced over her shoulder at her house and then back at Stiles. “Why don’t you come inside. I don’t think a drive tonight is going to be helpful.” They needed to figure out what was going on with him and why he was still having nightmares. Lydia wondered if he was still seeing things too.
She thought everything had gone back to normal earlier with Allison being able to shoot, Scott finally changing on his own, and Stiles being able to snap himself out of things to save her foot. God knows her shoes wouldn’t look good with just one. But Lydia was starting to think that wasn’t the case at all.
She took a step back from Stiles and dug into her purse for her keys. “I can heat up some tea,” she suggested when she didn’t see him move right away.
“Yeah, tea would be good,” he echoed, voice sounding hollow even to his own ears. He reluctantly followed her toward her front door, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets as he tried to process everything that was happening. It was disappointing, really. He’d had a lot of things he’d wanted to do. Like graduate high school. Go to college. Maybe actually have some kind of future, even if he’d been doubting the latter for a while now when he was honest with himself.
He chewed his lower lip as he waited for her to unlock the door, reaching down instinctively and catching Prada as he barreled outside. The dog yipped at him, but calmed down quickly as he stepped inside the Martin’s house and then set the pup on the sofa, watching Lydia close and lock the door behind them. “No mom?” he asked, already suspecting the answer. Neither of Lydia’s parents were exactly known for their parenting skills and attention, even though she lived with her mom. It made him even more grateful for his dad.
“She’s away for the weekend, some kind of work convention,” she said with a wave of her hand as she dropped her keys back into her purse and laid it down on the table near the front door. Lydia walked over to where Stiles had placed Prada and smiled as she ran a hand over her baby’s fur. “Be a good girl Prada,” she punctuated the statement with an affectionate tap before motioning for Stiles to follow her into the kitchen.
Lydia reached for the cabinet and grabbed two mugs once they were in the kitchen, setting them down on the counter and then walking over to the stove. She moved in silence filling up the tea kettle and putting it on the stove. Once the flame was lit she turned, leaning against the counter as her eyes followed Stiles’ movements.
“Does your Dad know you left?” She asked not wanting to get him in trouble with the sheriff.
He leaned back against the kitchen sink, staring at the tea kettle even as she spoke. He looked up at her. “I didn’t wake him up, but I left him a note in case he woke up.” He paused. “Trying to do the whole not keeping secrets from him thing. It’s weird.” Weird, but nice. But this new development was probably going to be a secret, because he just didn’t see the point of freaking his dad out over it. And his dad would most definitely freak out.
“Stiles,” Lydia called his name trying to draw his attention to her. She could already see him shutting down and she knew that wasn’t good. “We’re going to fix whatever this is.” She took a step forward and then two more until she was right in front of him. “All those other times were different. I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t help because it was after the fact and I didn’t know what it all meant.” Not until Jennifer Blake had explained it to her, crazy ass wannabe English teacher.
“Scott won’t let anything happen to you,” she said finally acknowledging her feeling. “Neither will anyone else...neither will I.” Lydia rested her hand on his arm now that she was sure the feeling wasn’t coming back tonight. “In order for me to help, you have to let me in.” She glanced down briefly, “There’s a reason that I was chosen to be your anchor Stiles, we can help each other.” They needed each other, Lydia could feel it, she just wasn’t sure where everything fit yet.
He shifted his gaze to meet her green eyes. They were the eyes that he’d found himself staring into for most of his life, the ones he thought about before he fell asleep nearly every night. He drew in a breath, nodding slightly in acknowledgment of her words. The determination in her voice was as obvious to him as his own sense of resignation. He looked down at her hand on his arm and managed a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes when he spoke again. “I know,” he said quietly. “I mean that’s what we do, right? All of us? Save each other’s lives and pull each other away from trouble.” Except for the times that they didn’t quite get there in time, or didn’t quite manage to get the job done.
Images of Erica and Boyd flickered through his mind, followed by the ever-haunting image of Heather’s lifeless body in the hospital morgue. Hell, even Lydia, after Peter attacked her on the lacrosse field over a year ago. He hadn’t gotten there in time then either. His chest was painfully tight, but he reached down and covered her hand with his own. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Of course we will,” she said as if it wasn’t even a question. The sharp whistle of the tea kettle broke through the silence and she pointed to one of the chairs. “Sit, relax and please stop looking like I just kicked your nonexistent puppy.” Lydia needed Stiles to be his normal, crazy self so he could help her figure out what was happening.
She slid her hand slowly out from beneath his and turned toward the stove to pour the tea. They were going to have to call Scott and Allison and see if things were still bad for them too, but that could wait until morning. Well, later in the morning.
He flinched involuntarily at the sound of the tea kettle whistling as a single thought came to him unbidden even as he moved to sit as she’d instructed. For whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.