The Deadpool was over. It was finally gone, done for good. Nobody would be coming after any supernatural creature in Beacon Hills any longer. At least, no one looking for payment. However, Scott –being the careful and capable alpha he is- was still worried. What if some of the assassins didn't get the message? What if they were all still being hunted? Stiles told him he was being ridiculous. Kira told him everyone would be just fine. But Lydia agreed with him. Something wasn't right, she could feel it. Not everything was back to normal again. The banshee inside of her was telling her that they were all still in danger. Of course, this part she didn't mention.

"We should be cautious," Lydia said, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in her stomach. "Maybe, just to be safe, we all spend a night at the lake house. I'm sure twenty-four hours is enough time for everyone to be notified that the Deadpool is over."

Scott thought about this for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Tonight we'll stay at the lake house."

"All of us?" Liam asked. Scott looked at his beta, his eyes narrowing slightly at the question. But he could smell the fear that was coming off the younger werewolf, and the way he would look over Scott's shoulder every once in a while. Almost like there was something behind him.

He put his hand on Liam's shoulder. "Yeah, all of us. You, me, Kira, Lydia, Stiles, and Malia. We can all sleep in the living room, right?" Scott's gaze shifted to Lydia.

"Well, there won't be enough room for everyone, but mostly, I suppose." She sighed slightly. "I'll just sleep in my own bed."

Scott's pack snored softly in the comfort of Lydia's lake house. Scott and Kira were snuggled together on the couch, his arms wrapped around her protectively. Liam slept on the floor next to his alpha, his fear of the berserkers not letting him sleep anywhere else. Stiles was set ungracefully in the armchair, drool dripping from his mouth. Malia was only half asleep, her coyote instincts leaving her on high alert at all times. But while they slept, Lydia was upstairs in her room, dreaming.

"Stiles, look at me." Lydia held Stiles's face in her hands, making soothing sounds with her mouth. "Shh, look at me." Information circled her mind. Think, Lydia, think! What can stop a panic attack? She tried to remember everything she had every read, and one thing stuck in her mind. It was a small bit of information, something she didn't even remember where she had got it from. She didn't even know if it would work. But she knew she had to try something.

It only took a moment for Lydia to close her eyes and pull Stiles's lips to hers. She felt his whole body tense up. He was holding his breath. He started relaxing, and it was working. Once again, I'm a genius, Lydia thought. But she couldn't doddle on self-praise for long, because she was suddenly becoming hyper aware that she was kissing Stiles. The way his lips felt, the way she felt, and the way that the more time she spent kissing him, the more she could feel a barrier melting away. And she could hear his voice, clear as day, speaking in her head.

"You know, sometimes there's other things you wouldn't think would be a good combination end up turning out to be, like, a perfect combination, you know, like two people together who nobody ever thought would be together ever."

But as soon as the kiss –panic attack solution, whatever you call it- started, it ended. Her lips were separating from his, although her eyes were still closed, and she felt as though she never wanted to open them again. And boy, did she wish she didn't.

Because as soon as her eyes were open, she was no longer in the locker room. Instead she was standing in a dark tunnel, with the boy standing in front of her, giving her a look that sent chills down her spine.

"Stiles?"

And then Stiles's hand was around her throat and he was lifting her so only her toes could touch the ground. Lydia tried to breathe, but there were tears running down her face and she couldn't, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't move.

"Stiles isn't here anymore," he said in a painfully steady voice. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed and his hair was messy like he hadn't brushed it in days. Lydia's hands finally started to pull on his, her lungs begging for air. The Nogitsune shook his head and tsked her, like she was a pet that was doing something wrong.

Then his face turned to agony, and he dropped Lydia. The sting of landing on the ground was nothing compared to the relief when she saw the thing that had pierced the Nogitsune's back. A silver arrow.

Allison stood triumphantly, bow in her hands as the Nogitsune fell to the ground next to Lydia. She smiled at her friend, but the banshee soon remembered what happens next. A sword went through Allison's body before Lydia could warn her about the Oni. Anguish filled her face and she screamed.

"ALLISON!"

She could feel her own body collapsing into the boy next to her, the boy that was somehow Stiles again, the boy that she could feel trying to comfort her even in his dying state. Lydia squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted it to end, she wanted it to stop, to stop reliving the memories, to stop making new and scarier memories based on old ones. And a small part of her was even trying to tell her to wake up. But that part of her wasn't loud enough.

When Lydia opened her eyes again, she was laying in Derek's loft. She could feel a warm liquid running down some part of her body and she knew she was bleeding. She desperately searched the place with her eyes for some kind of explanation, but what was there wasn't good.

Kira was against the wall, her throat slashed out. Lydia didn't want to believe it, but she knew she was dead. Derek was on the other side of the room, seemingly unhurt, but the dead body of Braeden by his side told her otherwise.

Lydia began to panic. Where was Stiles? Where was Scott? The next thing she saw proved that she didn't want her question answered.

Stiles was laying on the floor near her, a large gash mark across his body. He was coughing up blood, but he was still alive. The banshee crawled over to him, putting her hands on his chest.

"Stay with me Stiles," she begged.

"Lydia?" His voice was but a whisper, and was interrupted by a spout of blood. Lydia willed herself not to cry.

"It's me, Stiles," she said, "It's okay, I'm here. Shh, Stiles." She put her hands on his face. His eyes were beginning to close. "Stiles, look at me. Stay with me!" And then Lydia heard a voice that sent shivers up her spine.

"You were my beta first, Scott. It was my bite that gave you power, and it'll be my bite that'll take it away."

Lydia looked up, but she already knew who it was. Peter Hale. She should've known. She should've known he would go after Scott, to take his alpha status. But before she knew what was happening, Peter was lifting Scott into the air, claws imbedded into his shoulder. And then he ripped his throat out with his teeth.

Lydia screamed. She screamed so loud that Peter was momentarily disoriented. She knew this was her chance to get her and Stiles out of there.

"Stiles, we have to go." She looked back down at the boy she cared so much about. His eyes were closed. "Stiles! Look at me! Stay with me! Please!" She couldn't hold back the tears any longer as she pressed onto his wound, trying to keep him from losing more blood.

"You can't save him, y'know."

Lydia knew the voice, but she didn't look up. "Yes, I can," she said, like trying to convince herself. Stiles's eyes were open again, but she knew they wouldn't be for long.

"Not without help, you can't."

Again the voice, so familiar. Lydia put her hand on Stiles's face, trying to get him to look at her. But all she succeeded in doing was leaving a bloody hand mark on his cheek.

"I can help you."

Anger consuming her, Lydia looked up at the voice. It was a girl. A girl who was 5'3", and had strawberry blonde hair and green eyes. She looked at Lydia with a blank expression.

"What can you do, huh?" Lydia asked the girl, her lip trembling. The copy of Lydia tilted her head to the side, giving her a sorry expression.

"More than you, apparently."

The real Lydia looked back down at Stiles. His eyes were closed, and his body felt cold. She gripped onto his plaid shirt and pressed her face to his chest. Silent sobs racked her body.

"You can save him," the girl told her.

"How?"

The girl kneeled down next to Lydia. "Let me in. Let me in and I'll help you save him. Let me in, Lydia."

The banshee refused to look at herself, to look at the copy of her. She kept her eyes trained on Stiles's face, and came to a decision.

"Okay."

"Good choice." The voice wasn't hers anymore. Lydia whipped around to face herself when it wasn't herself any longer. It was a bandaged figure with a bloody mouth and sharp, metal teeth.

Lydia screamed herself awake, sitting bolt upright. Downstairs the wolves were covering their ears, trying to block out the high-pitched sound. Stiles and Kira started to race up the stairs, their friend's screaming seeming to get louder the closer they went to her room.

"Lydia!" Stiles yelled, barging into the room and quickly making her way to her side. She had stopped screaming by then, and instead she was trembling violently. Stiles put his hand on her arm. "Lydia?"

Lydia's face snapped up to look at him, and he could see the terror in her eyes. Tears poured down her cheeks and her hand grasped his sleeve like it was a lifeline. Scott, Malia, and Liam had finally entered the room. Liam, the youngest werewolf, had a bit of a hard time keeping from running back downstairs and hiding there. The other werewolves could smell it too. The scent of fear.

"It was just a dream, Lydia," Stiles told her softly. "Just a dream, got it?"

Lydia frantically shook her head. "No, no it wasn't, it was him, it was him, he's in my head, he's in my head-"

He moved his hands to grip her shoulders. "Lydia, look at me. You're all right, you're fine." He looked back at the rest of his friends. Scott was giving him an incredibly worried look. "I got this guys, go back to sleep."

Scott held Kira's hand and put his other hand on Liam's shoulder, leading the two of them out. Malia followed.

When her friends were gone, Lydia burst into tears. She pulled Stiles to her chest and hugged him tightly. Stiles tried to do his best to comfort her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked. And Lydia was going to tell him. She was going to tell him everything, and then he was going to tell her that it was just a dream, that she was fine. He was going to stay by her side all night and wake her if she had any more nightmares and hold her if she was scared. But Lydia didn't get a chance to open her mouth, because the bandaged man was standing behind Stiles now, her Stiles that was watching her with those worried eyes, and she couldn't say anything.