Author's Note: I wanted to write some fluffy Stydia, but this turned into angst somehow. Hmmmm . . . well, there's more fluff than my usual fare? Okay, spoilers for season three, but let's pretend no one died, okay? Sound good? Please enjoy!

"Sweet dreams are made of this

Who am I to disagree?"

—Emily Browning, "Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)"

"So, Stiles and Malia, huh?" Alison mutters as Lydia takes a deliberate bite of her sandwich, keeping her gaze down. She doesn't care that Stiles has a girlfriend. She really doesn't. She's even happy for him. It's good that he finally got someone that he cares about and who obviously cares for him. They're just so cute and happy and so damn perfect, that it brings joy to Lydia's heart. Every time Stiles kisses her, every time they embrace, the strawberry blonde's heart fills to the brim with happiness.

And then she imagines Malia falling into a dark vortex and never returning.

Ever.

"Lydia?" Alison pokes at her and shoots her a concerned glance, her brows furrowing. "You okay?" She nods her head quickly, focusing on remembering how to breathe instead of wondering what Stiles is whispering into Malia's ear. Is he telling her how beautiful she looks? Why is she grinning and laughing? God, they were so sickeningly sweet—

"I'm fine." She grounds out, nearly biting her tongue off in the process.

Lydia Martin doesn't get jealous.

Lydia Martin could have any boy here and wrapped around her pinky in a matter of seconds. She just needs to pull herself together and get over this ridiculous pain that's dwelling in her heart. Nothing with Stiles has changed—he still jokes with her, still acts like his adorably dorky self—but now that he has Malia, Lydia feels like the world is spinning on a different axis.

He just doesn't love her anymore.

I think you look beautiful when you cry.

The memory takes her off-guard and as tears spring to her eyes, she quickly rises from the table and ignoring Alison's voice calling out to her, she practically sprints to the bathroom before allowing a few tears to roll down her cheeks. She'll allow herself this one moment of weakness.

But, she will not wallow over Stiles anymore.

Lydia Martin doesn't cry over any guy.

"Hey," Scott comes over to her as she closes her locker door. It's funny how the two of them grew to be such close friends over the past few months. She feels like she could tell him anything and he would listen and help her. He's different than Alison, who would rush headlong into a situation. Scott simply listens and then offers a few tidbits of advice. "You okay?" She's only cried once today, seeing Stiles and Malia making out in the hallway, but hey, that caught her off-guard, okay? This whole crying over Stiles thing wasn't going to happen daily. She'd get over it.

"Yeah, why?" She replies softly, discreetly checking her makeup to see if the tears smudged anything. She's sure they didn't, but Scott—

"You just seem down." His gaze is all-knowing and she knows he's giving her an opening to talk about it—Malia and Stiles. But, really, what is there to talk about? She lost her chance. She waited too long to realize her feelings and by the time that she did, it was too late. Stiles had Malia. Lydia had . . . well, no one. "Look, Lydia." He hesitates. This must be hard for him since he's best friends with Stiles and he obviously wants the best for Stiles. "If you ever want to talk . . ." His voice trails off and the strawberry blonde smiles, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks, Scott."

She's got to get this under control.

"Lydia?" Her Mom calls and the teenager sits up on her bed. She's spent 30 minutes staring up at the ceiling, trying to figure out the best course of action on how to get over Stiles. She's gone over his flaws—though, true be told, she's found his flaws simply make him more endearing to her—and she's tried hard to remember the reasons why he used to disgust her. Her mind seems to be blanking on that though. "I'm going out! I've left money for dinner."

"Okay!" She replies, her stomach seemingly hearing "dinner" and suddenly growling. She heads to the kitchen and absently picks up an apple. It shines in the light and she wonders how long these have been sitting here. She sighs and takes a bite. Sweet flavor fills her mouth and she actually grins for the first time that day.

The phone rings and she absently picks it up, swallowing quickly.

"Hello?"

"Lydia?"

"Stiles?" She mumbles, brow furrowing. This is . . . odd, to say the least. True, she's been avoiding him like the plague until she could get her emotions under control, but in typical Stiles fashion, he couldn't take a hint. Honestly though, Lydia's relieved to hear his voice. She's missed talking to him. "What is it?"

"Are you mad at me?" He asks abruptly.

"What? No!" She exclaims quickly, taken aback by this. She knew her actions hadn't been quite the best lately, but she never wanted Stiles to feel bad. It wasn't his fault that she had missed her chance. He had waited a lot longer than most guys would have. She should've expected he would find someone else from day one. "Stiles, I just . . ."

"It's Malia, isn't it." It isn't a question and she wonders if he knows all this because they share that link. "Lydia, did she do something?"

"No." She replies and she can feel the sadness and grief filling her up, threatening to make her break apart. "She's nice, Stiles." And it's true. Malia has been nothing but polite to her.

"But?"

"It's nothing, Stiles." She reassures him, sitting at the wooden kitchen table. "Look, I've got to go—"

"If something were wrong," He begins softly. "You'd tell me, right?" She wants to tell him everything—confess her love to him right on the spot. She wants him to say that Malia was a mistake; that he only dated her because he thought Lydia would never come around. And she'd say how foolish she was for not noticing her feelings before and they'd laugh.

"Lydia?"

But she doesn't do any of that.

"I promise, Stiles."

She's getting so good at lying.

"Did you hear?" Kira practically sprints over to her, Alison in tow. "Stiles broke up with Malia!"

"What?" Shock colors Lydia's expression and tone. "Why?" Kira shakes her head dismissively.

"I have no idea." The kitsune replies. "Scott hasn't even found out why yet." Despite her self-assurances that she was over Stiles and she did not care about who he dated, she grins. Alison sees this and smirks.

"Well, I wonder how soon the mourning period will be over." Her best friend mutters and Lydia's cheeks flush.

"Wait," Kira tilts her head to the side in confusion. "Are you and Stiles—?"

"No." Lydia interjects quickly.

"Not yet, anyways." Alison interrupts cheekily. "But soon." She pulls the strawberry blonde into a tight hug. "I'm so happy for you!"

"Stop, stop." Lydia chides half-heartedly. Truth is, she's ecstatic. She needs to see Stiles now and tell him before it's too late. Fate has seen fit to give her another chance and she won't waste it now. "I've got to go."

"I bet you do." Alison is practically beaming and Lydia punches her on the shoulder lightly. "Good luck."

"I always thought you and Stiles would be cute together." Kira muses, flashing her a thumbs up. "Go get him." Lydia laughs, her first laugh in what seems like forever and then takes off. Her feet carry her down the twisting hallways until she comes to the bench outside. A giant oak tree obscures it and most people forget it's even there.

Except Stiles.

"Stiles?" He sits up on the bench at the sound of her voice and she grin. He waves at her and she sprints the rest of the way to him, not caring if her heels get ruined by the grass in the process. "I have to tell you something."

"Okay." He doesn't seem saddened by the break-up, not that she can tell. So, she takes a deep breath and pushes down the butterflies flapping around in her stomach and then she tells him.

"I love you." His expression is blank. "I think I have for a long time now, I just couldn't see and then there was Aiden and when I realized how much I cared for you, you were with Malia—" She's rambling. She really needs to get back on topic. "I had to tell you, just in case." He says nothing, but simply stands up from the bench. "Stiles?" He crosses to her, places two warm hands on her cheeks and then kisses her. It's a kiss, which Lydia has never experienced for. It's full of longing and love, but there's a gentleness to it all. His lips are soft on her and she savors the feeling. When he pulls back, he has the stupidest grin on his face, but Lydia can't help but beam at it.

"I love you too, Lydia Martin." It's all she's ever wanted.

"Stiles—"

The world around them shifts. He suddenly begins to fade away from view. The sky darkens and a harsh wind blows. It's freezing and she doesn't know what's going on, but suddenly, she's alone.

"Stiles!"

Her heart feels like it's pounding a mile a minute and she can barely breathe. She sinks onto the frozen ground and tries to muster up some strength she knows she doesn't have. What's going on? What's happening to her?

Lydia.

"Stiles?" His voice is muffled and distant.

C'mon, Lydia. Wake up!

Wake up? From what?

Dammit, Lydia! I'm not going to let you die! Wake up!

She feels the beating of her own heart and the softness of Stiles lips on hers even though he's nowhere to be found. Darkness begins to envelop her vision and she feels like she's freefalling, though to where, she isn't sure.

And then there is nothing.

"Lydia?"

She opens her eyes to see Stiles smiling down at her. Alison, eyes red-rimmed, squeezes Lydia's hand.

"Welcome back to the land of the living." She jokes tearfully, her voice breaking as a few tears fall. Confused, Lydia takes in her surroundings. She's in her house, on the floor in the kitchen. An apple, with one perfect bite out of it, is next to her outstretched hand.

"What happened?" Stiles helps her sit up and she realizes that he's holding her against his chest tightly, as if he's afraid letting go will mean losing her.

"Funny story," Stiles begins, his tone attempting to be light, but still full of worry. "You took a bite out of a poison apple. Alison and I found you here, totally unresponsive."

"Poison apple?" Lydia echoes. Seriously? They were facing fairy tale things now? How more ridiculous could their life get?

"Yeah," Alison replies. "Scott thinks maybe a witch rolled into town and for some reason had some sort of problem with you."

"A witch?" She's so dumb-founded by everything that she can barely process what's going on. If she collapsed after she took a bite of that apple, then everything after that had been a dream. Stiles and Malia were still together. There had been no kiss. No love confession. She was still alone.

"Scott and Kira are on it," Alison reassures her. "But, how do you feel?" She rubs her chest, sore with a phantom pain.

"It hurts." She mumbles.

"Sorry," Stiles mutters sheepishly. "Your heart stopped beating. I had to do CPR." He chuckles darkly. "Guess that makes me the prince to your Snow White, huh?"

True Love's kiss breaks the spell.

It's an ironic twist, isn't it? What happens when your true love was in love with someone else? There isn't a fairy tale for that. There's nothing for her to take comfort in this situation. Her phone call with Stiles, their kiss—none of it happened. It was all a dream.

Nothing more than a dream.

"Hey, hey," She hasn't realize she's begun to cry until Stiles hands her napkin from the table and she dabs her eyes with it. "It's okay, Lydia." He pulls her into a hug and her heart shatters into a million little pieces.

None of it happened.

Nothing's changed.

"I've got you, Lydia." Stiles tells her. "I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you, okay?"

She knows that.

She just wishes he wouldn't say things like that. How is she supposed to get over him when he's so sweet? How is she supposed go throughout her day and act like nothing changed between them? How can she be supportive of him and Malia when it's slowly killing her to see them together?

And before long Snow White opened her eyes, lifted up the lid of the coffin, sat up, and was once more alive. "Oh, heavens, where am I?" she cried. The King's son, full of joy, said, "You are with me," and told her what had happened, and said, "I love you more than everything in the world; come with me to my father's palace, you shall be my wife."

Stiles has it wrong.

And as he holds her within his arms and rubs comforting circles onto her back, she begins to cry.

She isn't Snow White, not in this story.

Author's Note: So, I really loved this piece and I hope you did too. Next time, maybe I'll actually get a fluff piece without angst. Please review if you have a second.