He'd been genuinely enjoying those conversations with her. They would meet up at the one nice park Beacon Hills had to offer, sit down, and discuss the drastic changes that were threatening to consume their lives.

Lydia had many questions regarding werewolves, and Stiles was more than happy to provide her with the answers. Now that she was in on the secret, Stiles felt that an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He didn't blame her for being angry at first.

"So all of this crap has been going on around me and nobody bothered to warn me about it?!" she had said testily. "It would've been so nice if at least one person bothered to fill me in!"

It wasn't going to be easy having a werewolf for a boyfriend, Stiles knew that. It drove him insane at times having to deal with Scott being the Bite's 'Chosen One'. Well, that wasn't fair to say; Peter's attack that night in the woods had been completely random. Stiles shuddered when he remembered how 50/50 the Bite had been…

How it could've been him turning into a howling jerk-ass every full moon.

Speaking of Peter, that was the one of the things Lydia and Stiles had in common in this werewolf business. Besides being the only humans—and the only reliable researchers in the group—in on Beacon Hills' dirty little secret, they had also suffered at the hands of the former Alpha.

Some nights Stiles would wake up in a cold sweat, remembering the tragic end to his dream dance with Lydia. His nightmares seemed to be in high-definition, all-surround sound whenever they involved the lacrosse field, Lydia's bloodied form, and Peter Hale having her at his mercy.

Sometimes the nightmares would twist into a sickening new situation. Peter refusing to keep Lydia alive and tearing out her throat in front of Stiles' eyes, splattering him with her dark blood. Peter attacking Stiles instead, gnawing away at his soft flesh, ripping out the stringy tendons. Peter offering him a deal so disgusting—

Stop, Stiles told himself, shutting out the horrifying imagery. He would blink, and the memory would be pushed back, and he would return to reality. Lydia was in front of him, pouting her glossy, full lips at him, an eyebrow cocked in impatience. Her beautiful face demanded more information from him, and Stiles was glad to give it to her.

Maybe it became easier to talk to Lydia because she was in on the secret. Maybe he was able to be more open with her because he knew that he had lost against Jackson for the end of time.

The 'what if' that had always hovered somewhere in his mind regarding a romantic relationship with Lydia Martin had been permanently crushed. I'm OK with that, he thought, it's better this way.

He knew that he was losing for the longest time, and Jackson and Lydia's temporary break-up had caused a false hope to manifest within Stiles. It was a cruel hope that his mind had used against him. Lydia's love confession to Dr. Connors Junior was like a mercy kill.

It was better this way.

This would allow him to move on. Hey, maybe gay guys could be attracted to him, if he gave it a shot. Stiles just didn't find other girls appealing, even as his romantic intentions for Lydia dulled over time.

It really was better this way.

At least Derek trusted Lydia more than Allison, though that wasn't saying much. She had brought back his sister's murderer, though Stiles argued that if an insane psychopath was mind raping his brain at every turn, he would do exactly what she did. Better to get the source of the craziness out than let it destroy you from within.

Derek Hale was not amused by that idea.

"Keep her under surveillance," Derek growled, "I don't need more trouble from you humans."

Stiles knew that he wanted to add 'female' within that last statement, but Stiles kept his mouth shut. He didn't want to deal with the sourwolf's trust issues with the opposite sex at the moment.

Lydia had scoffed when Stiles later told her what Derek had said. "Oh believe me, I won't be performing anymore Voldemort-type resurrections as long as I'm kept up to date."

Stiles smiled in spite of himself. Lydia Martin making a Harry Potter reference as a threat against Derek Hale? That was too awesome.

"And what's so funny, Stilinski?" Lydia hissed, but her grin took the mocking edge off of her words. Yes, it was definitely easier being her friend.

"Oh nothing," smiled Stiles, "I can just imagine the dumbfounded look on his face if he heard you say that."

"Your boyfriend doesn't scare me," Lydia pouted, batting her long lashes.

Once Lydia had learned Stiles' side of the story, she then realized how similar their so-called best friends were. Allison had been in on Scott's little secret all this time, and it frustrated Lydia how Allison had never bothered to tell her. It could have saved her a ton of grief during the last few months, what with the hallucinations and all. If Allison Argent thought that ignorance would be bliss in Lydia's case, then she was sorely mistaken.

At least Stiles had made the effort to try and talk to her during one of her breakdowns. Try was the keyword; the hyperactive idiot couldn't be perfect, after all.

Lydia also knew how the popularity virus worked on people who were formerly nobodies in the background. She had seen it happen on many people during her years in high school. They didn't know how to control the incredible high of being noticed and respected by their peers. They went overboard. Sure, Lydia knew she wasn't a perfect angel at times, but at least her personality didn't go through a drastic change.

Scott McCall's status of being a werewolf seemed to have accelerated that process.

He'd narrowed his outlooks to things that kept him within the scope of popularity: lacrosse, and his girlfriend. This caused him to push out other things in his life, like an ugly cowbird budging out another bird's egg in order to make more room for itself in the nest.

Stiles seemed to be that egg. For some reason, this really pissed off Lydia.

So yeah, Scott and Allison were perfect for each other. Their thoughts were so singular, so absorbed in each other that Lydia wanted to gag herself with a spoon at times.

It was also nice to have someone else in on the werewolf secret that: (A) wasn't a werewolf, and (B) wasn't some crazy hunter from Allison's family.

"They thought that you had been turned, Lyd," Stiles once told her. "That night that you ran away from the hospital, I swear those freaks were estimating how much silver bullets they would need to take you out! I—we were freaking out!" Stiles seemed to flail his arms a lot whenever he recounted one of his stories.

He seemed very human when he acted like this. Not being some cold-hearted hunter or hormonal wolf-man with claws. Lydia actually felt touched that her disappearance that night had caused this big of a reaction out of someone.

Someone as perfectly human as Stiles.

Lydia worried about Jackson whenever he had to go out to the Hale house alone. She was annoyed that Derek "mopey Alpha" Hale had forbidden her from attending Jackson's werewolf lessons for the first couple of weeks. That's when her catch-up information sessions had started with Stiles.

Jackson had tried bringing her with him in his Porsche, and had tried to start a fight with the older werewolf when Derek told Lydia to get off of his property.

"Either she leaves or you'll never learn how to control your powers," Derek had said stubbornly. This was an ultimatum. Peter Hale was back, and was an experienced werewolf, but Jackson loved Lydia too much to go to him for help. Jackson was stuck, and he knew it.

Stiles was there to stop the bloodbath before it even began. "Both of you, just stop before any of you dent up my Jeep!"

Derek had glared at him. "She can't be here," he growled.

"Fine," Stiles had snapped, and he looked over at both her and Jackson, a silent question on his face. Jackson seemed to understand, crossing his arms and reluctantly nodding.

Lydia understood immediately. "Wait, are you asking me to leave?!" she hissed at Jackson. Her boyfriend looked uncomfortable, and it made Lydia somewhat satisfied that this wasn't an easy decision for him. She may be pissed at him now, but in the long run, this was best for the both of them.

She wouldn't dream of jeopardizing his safety and the town's just because she wanted to be with him.

"Stiles, please," Jackson said. Lydia was surprised that he'd chosen Stiles Stilinski as her chauffeur off of the Hale property. Maybe it was because he was a human; he wouldn't be a threat to Lydia.

In more ways than one.

Stiles had opened the passenger side of his Jeep for her. Lydia had looked back at Jackson, and he watched her longingly as the Jeep door slammed shut.

"So, where do ya wanna go to cool off?" Stiles had asked her as he backed up and made his way onto the main road. "We could go get something to eat, or find rocks to lob at Sourwolf's head later on—"

"I need to know everything," Lydia interrupted, looking over at Stiles. She gave him her best determined and demanding look. Stiles sighed, and pulled off into a parking lot.

"Need some info to use as paycheck against Derek later on?" Stiles nodded fiercely, a small smile creeping across his face. "Yeah, yeah, that works. I like that. This is a very good plan. Shit, Derek's gonna kill me later, but whatever, you know?"

"Stiles, honey," said Lydia, her voice dangerously calm. "You can start right now."