So this turned out 99% different than originally planned. It was supposed to be a heartfelt story about how Stiles and Malia broke up and how Lydia was slightly happy about it, but it turned out like 10x more blunt and violent and angsty with a touch of fire. (Blame the fire guy in the promo.)

When Stiles sees her holding the hit list, he freezes. "Lydia, what is it?"

Lydia ignores him and picks up a pen.

"Lydia," he calls out. When she continues to act like she didn't hear him, he steps closer. "Lydia, what are y-"

He stops when he notices the S. And then a T. "Lydia," he calls out louder, a little desperately.

He watches helplessly as she writes out his name in a daze. "Lydia, talk to me, please," he begs, touching her shoulder gently.

She jumps. "Stiles, what it is?"

"Lydia, why would you write another name?"

"Wh-"

"Why would you write mine?"

He shows her the paper, which she takes into her hands. "I...I don't know," she finally replies. There's a certain fear in her eyes, he sees as she looks at him. Her lips quiver. "Stiles!" she screams before there is something pressed against her head, and she squeezes her eyes shut.

Stiles watches in horror as a man presses the gun to her head. He immediately pulls out the knife he has (courtesy of Chris Argent), and moves towards the man. "Let go of her."

"Put the knife down or a bullet will be going through her head." Stiles freezes, cautiously putting the knife down, even with Lydia furiously shaking her head at him.

"Stiles, don-"

"Shut up, or I'll kill him after I kill you."

Lydia keeps quiet, her mouth is only a thin line.

Stiles looks back at the man. "Don't kill her, please."

"Don't worry, boy. I don't intend to," he pauses and smiles, "I'm going to kill your little friends."

Stiles and Lydia look at each other desperately.

The man chuckles, and it makes them both shiver. "I'm going to give you a choice, Stiles. Stay here with your girlfriend and you two will be on your merry ways after I earn myself some money, or go warn your little friends about and see a bullet go through her pretty head."

"Why are you doing this?" Stiles asks, tears in his eyes.

"Because it's a game," he replies wickedly. "And games are fun. Now, choose."

"And what if I don't?"

"Then the girl dies, I kill you, and make my way to your friends."

Stiles trembles, falling to his knees. "No," he cries. "Please."

Hearing Lydia squealing, he looks up. The man has himself pressed against her, the gun firmly at the side of her head. "Three…"

It's like at the school. Except it isn't his life on the line this time.

"Two…"

Stiles screams.

"One."

"NO!" Stiles stands up and runs to Lydia. The man uncocks the gun and smiles, butting Lydia in the head with the end of the gun. He watches in horror as she falls.

"Congratulations, looks like you both get to live," the man says, and the only thing Stiles can see is darkness.

Stiles wakes up with his hands bound. He looks up groggily, then remembers the chain of events that played out. "Lydia?" he calls out worriedly.

He feels a warm hand grasp his own. "I'm here," Lydia says.

Stiles closes his eyes in relief and squeezes her hand in return. "Are you okay? He hit you pretty hard back there."

Lydia sighs. "I'm fine. Head hurts a little, but fine."

He looks around. "We're stuck here, aren't we?"

"Yup, seems so. I've been trying to get out of these bonds for a while now." Lydia lets go of his hand. She murmurs, "Idiot."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Why am I the idiot?" he asks exasperatedly.

"You do realize that he's going to kill us anyways, right? You should've just let him kill me, then at least you could've warned Scott about him."

"You're kidding, right? Leave you here, as I'd run out, and hear the gunshot?"

"I'm not afraid of dying," she says bravely.

"I am," he says. Realizing what he did say, he corrects himself, "I'm not afraid of dying, I'm afraid of you dying."

He hears a quiet, "Oh." She clears her throat. "Do you still…"

"Yeah, I do," he finishes.

"You don't even know what I was going to ask."

"Yes, Lydia, I am still in love with you."

It's quiet for a few minutes.

"Aren't you with Malia?"

"Not anymore," was his simple reply.

Another few minutes pass.

"Look, Lydia-"

"It's okay, Stiles. I just need to think."

He shuts his mouth. Silence surrounds them, and he wishes that she could just say something to him. Preferably relating to what he just revealed to her, so that he could explain.

Soon enough, Stiles gets his wish.

It's just the opposite of what he expects.

"I love you, too," is Lydia's response.

He tries to reply, he really does, but every time he opens his mouth, nothing comes out.

Her heavenly voice speaks up again, "I told you I needed to think." He can practically see her cheeky smile right about now. She frowns slightly. "You didn't have a heart attack or something, did you?"

"No," he finally manages to squeak out. He feels her reach for his hand again, and he gladly intertwines their fingers. "I love you," he repeats.

Lydia giggles softly, despite the situation. "I think we already established that."

"It feels good to say it."

"It does," she agrees. "I love you. Oh god, Stiles, I love you!" She sounds panicked now.

"Why are you making it sound like a bad thing?!" He doesn't feel so good anymore.

"Because, Stiles, I've finally admitted that I love you, to myself and to you, and there's a ninety percent chance we're going to die!" she cries out. Oh, so it's not because she doesn't want to love him. Stiles feels slightly relieved. Slightly. "Why does timing have to suck so much!"

"Let's just hope we're the ten percent," Stiles whispers back to her, rubbing his thumb over her hand comfortingly.

"I can't feel any deaths coming," she says bluntly.

"Isn't that good?"

She pauses. "What if that means I'm the one who dies? Banshees can't predict their own deaths."

Neither of them speaks for a while.

Timing does really have the worst timing.

"Lydia, is it just me or is it getting hotter in here?"

At first Lydia thinks it's his way of trying out some strange, cliche pick-up line, but then she hears the seriousness in his voice. And she's realizes she's starting to feel warm, as does her eyes feel a bit irritated.

Her eyes scan the perimeter of the room, and then she notices it. The room is darker, smokier. "Stiles, can you see the door?"

Stiles cranes his neck to the side. "Yeah, I - Holy shit."

"What is it?" she nearly screams.

"Smoke. Lots of it."

"The building is on fire. Stiles, we need to get out of here, now."

She can feel the pole they're strapped to shake violently as Stiles attempts to break the bonds. Lydia screams for help, hoping - just hoping - that someone will hear.

They continue as the flames enter the room and made their way towards them.

They continued until the heat became too intense, and their screams of desperation became screams of agony as the flames licked their skin.

They could barely hear screams mix in with theirs as everything turns black.

They held hands the entire time.

Lydia screams herself awake, and she feels a pair of strong arms keep her in place. "Lydia, you need to rest!"

She looks up at the familiar face. "Parrish…?"

"It's me, it's me. You need to relax. You have a lot of smoke in your lungs, so it may be a bit difficult to breath. The pain is the result from a series of second to third degree burns. You're lucky to get away with so little."

Suddenly, everything floods back into her: the man with the gun, the fire, Stiles tellin- She jerks back up. "Stiles! Where's Stiles?"

Parrish pushes her back down gently. "He's fine. A little worse off than you, but he should be awake soon."

"And the others?"

At first the deputy seems a bit confused, but then understood what she was asking. "No one died today. We did arrest one nutter who tried to kill some of your friends then set the building you and Stiles were trapped in on fire."

"Can I see him?" she asks gently.

He smiles. "Just look to your left."

She does as he says, and sees Stiles sleeping on the bed directly next to her, with only a couple of feet between them.

She hears Parrish speak up. "You two were holding hands so tightly, they couldn't separate you guys."

Lydia looks down at their intertwined hands and smiles. I love you, she thinks. And she swears that she can hear him say, I love you, too.

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