Author's Note: This is my first Stydia fanfiction so it won't be the best Stydia fic you've ever read but hopefully I've done the characters justice. I know the Spiderman Stydia headcanon is extremely popular, and I'm sure other writers have written it too, but I've put my own fun little twist on it but I don't want to give anything away so you let me know what you think. P.S Please review!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Teen Wolf characters no matter how much I wish I did sometimes. I have no affiliation with the TV show whatsoever so all rights go to them. This is written purely for fun. Enjoy.

Lydia

Lydia admired her reflection in the bathroom's full-length mirror, fabricated to perfection; or at least as near to it as the human appearance ever got. She broke into a diamond grin, only to notice that there was cherry lipstick imprinted on her two front teeth, she quickly rolled her tongue over them to wipe off the stain. Must look fabulous at all times. It was something she told herself to get through the day. Lydia had always felt better when she looked better, ever since she was a little girl, her mother would dress her up all pretty in satin gowns and pink posies. It had always made her feel like a princess from one of the countless fairytales her parents used to read to her when she was young.

When she was finally satisfied, she took a step back and patted down the beige mini-skirt she was wearing, to get rid of a humiliating crease in the fabric. She looked to be on point. Her eye-shadow glimmered something gold, like powdered sunlight. Her cheeks were rosy as ever, and the classic red of her plump lips complimented the stark emerald of her eyes. Her strawberry blonde locks had been carefully weaved into a crown braid, and to any passer bys; Lydia was the picture of poise and confidence. Only Lydia could see the deep seated imperfections embedded in her features: the shadows under her eyes she covered up with an abundance of concealer, the fading scar just under her chin that she'd earned when she'd fallen off her bicycle when she was seven and had to get stitches, the pallid hue of her skin that she veiled with all the blush, even the pumps she wore to make herself feel better about her midget-like height. The bell sounded out, loud and buzzing, jarring Lydia out of her contemplation.

"Come on, Lydia," she mumbled to herself under her breath. "Time to play Ice Queen."

She stalked out of the bathroom, chin up, eyes shining, and heels clanking - all the way to first period. Lydia didn't mean to act like a complete bitch, but she'd learned a long time ago the ways of the world, she knew that playing nice never got nobody anywhere. Lydia played dumb with the boys because that's how girls got the things they wanted these days, by pretending to be inferior and stupid. Lydia pretended to be the gossip queen when it came to girls because whether or not that was what she truly was, the girls that surrounded her were already passing judgments about her. It was okay, though, she'd become an expert at fooling the world. Her facade was indestructible. Lydia pushed past the thronging crowds of the seemingly never-ending school hallway as she made her way to AP History. The teacher hadn't arrived yet, and most of her peers were already here, staring impatiently at the big, red clock above the whiteboard, perhaps praying for the fifteen-minute rule. Lydia saw that some mousy looking brunette with fat glasses was perched on her desk.

All Lydia had to do was clear her throat and shoot the poor girl a look and she was already stumbling out of her seat, racing to lift up all her belongings in both arms rather clumsily; before hurrying towards the back of the class. Lydia was so used to treating people like this that it quite frankly didn't even bother her as much anymore. She simply shrugged and took a seat, leaning over to pull out a pink ink pen with fluffy feathers at the top and her notepad.

Lydia had been doodling subconsciously when their teacher, Ms. Valentine, strolled in. The lady was clad in a black jumpsuit, with her frizzy dark hair tied into a hopeless bun, she was chewing irritably at the back of a pencil and her tiny glasses looked as if they were about to fall off the bridge of her nose. "Morning, Class," she murmured. "There's much, much, much to do today!"

Lydia sighed, Ms. Valentine had a habit of over-caffeinating before class. She was rather unsurprised when Ms. Valentine blurted out the chapters they were about to study, Lydia had already sifted through everything she'd named: twice. She yanked her phone out of her pocket, her eyes darting towards her rambling teacher, just to double check, before she began texting. She ignored most of the messages she got, until a particular caught her eye. She couldn't help but grin slightly at who it was from.

From: Aiden
Hey Lyd. My place 2night. Parents on ski trip. ;)

Lydia wasn't sure what it was that she had going on with Aiden, per say, considering that he'd started out as just a random boy she was having fun with. After her last serious boyfriend, Jackson Whittemore had abruptly taken off to England and broken things off between them, it had been a summer of numerous, harmless flings. Her situation with Aiden was a bit more complicated than simply friends-with-benefits though, there was something more to it, or there could be - she wasn't quite sure she was willing to embrace it though, especially not after how things had ended with Jackson.

Despite that, Lydia couldn't really refuse a pleasurable evening in.

To: Aiden
Can't wait. I'll bring the wine.

When Lydia looked up from her phone screen, the class had been interrupted by some late comer. Ms. Valentine had her arms crossed over her chest. "Stiles Stilinski," she sounded exasperated. "Funny to see you here so early. I was expecting you at the end of class." Lydia's gaze fell on the boy she was speaking to. Lydia knew him, even if she always forgot his name. Stiles broke into a sheepish grin as he scratched the back of his head. Lydia almost scoffed at his appearance. There were people like her, who spent hours perfecting their appearance before showing up at school, and then there were people like Stiles Whateverski, who rushed out of their homes without even running a comb through their hair. Stiles was clad in his signature plaid - a checkered blue and red shirt, with a white undershirt. His jeans looked washed up, like the last time they'd probably seen the inside of a washing machine was two years ago. The kid's hair was disheveled, and his hazel eyes caught the sunlight from the big windows on the other side of the class, making him squint as he sauntered in, book bag hanging so lose off his right shoulder that Lydia wondered if it was going to fall off, shoelaces untied, and lugging two fat books with his other hand. "Sorry," he muttered apologetically. "Darn that Monday morning traffic, right?"

Ms. Valentine looked like she wasn't going to be able to conjure the strength to argue so she simply scoffed it off and began continuing from wherever she'd left off. Stiles seated himself right behind her, like he almost always did. It was funny how he always managed to bag that seat, considering he was almost always late. Suddenly, she felt an abrupt slam against the back of her chair and she whirled around in her seat, glaring at Stiles with the wrath of a dozen pissed off Aztec Gods. He'd rammed his desk right into her chair. Stiles winced like her gaze was carving holes into his chest. "Reeaally didn't mean to do that," he muttered, his fingers already drumming against his desk, rather frantically. "I -" Lydia raised a palm up to shun him, and he was cut off midsentence, his mouth hanging half open, awkwardly, before he carefully closed it.

"Don't bother with petty excuses," she snapped. "Just don't slam your desk into me again."

She turned back to face her teacher again, even though she could feel his steady gaze on her back. Lydia always felt like he was eyeing her when she wasn't looking, she'd even caught the boy on multiple occasions. If a simple gaze could leave a mark on a person, Stiles had left several on her. He had this stupid school-boy crush on her, she knew about it, everybody in school knew about it, she was quite certain Obama knew about it. He made it so blatantly obvious that it was almost pitiful, really. Perhaps it was cute that he thought he really had a chance with her, but the spastic boy was nothing but an annoyance. Before Lydia's thoughts began drifting furthermore, she tuned back into what her teacher was saying. "This does, surprisingly, have significance in today's world, especially when it comes to real-life superheroes," Ms. Valentine continued. Lydia's ears perked up instantly, her mind already predicting who Ms. Valentine was going to talk about. It seemed in New York City these days, as if nobody could go a single day without talking about him.

"This morning itself," Ms. Valentine explained, grabbing the remote off her table and switching on some local news channel, where they were already going on about New York's resident vigilante. "Spiderman was spotted swinging across the city, saving our people as he always does. He rescued a child from a burning building, kept a group of bandits from robbing City Bank, and spotted and caught a fugitive who had only recently made it to FBI's most wanted list." Ms. Valentine had this twinkle in her eye as she muttered on about him. Of course Lydia knew Spiderman, or well, she knew of him. Everybody did. He was first spotted last spring, Lydia remembered being so fascinated by the incognito clad in the strange spandex suit. It had enlightened that hopeless, idealistic part of herself that she'd always pretended didn't exist.

Ms. Valentine turned off the television, but Lydia's mind was already taking off again. She'd always wanted to see Spiderman in person, she'd only ever looked at him on television or in pictures on magazines. Sometimes she refused to believe he was even real, because he seemed to appear to everybody but her. There were so many kids in class who went on about that one awesome time Spiderman had showed up in front of their very eyes. Lydia's best friend, Allison Argent, had, in fact, begun a Spiderman fan club (she even sold Spiderman merch including caps, t-shirts, coffee mugs, lunch boxes - you name it!) after that one time Spiderman had simply brushed past her during an attack at a local mall. Funny thing was, her fan club idea was apparently brilliant, considering that over half the population of their school was now a part of it. Swiftly, it was becoming the most popular school club there was.

"It was absolutely breathtaking, Lydia," she recalled Allison remarking. "I could just feel him, you know? I think we've got some kind of a connection, I swear I could feel the vibes radiating off of him! And you can't tell from that masked suit, but I'm pretty sure he smiled at me!"

How much of this was a delusional lie in Allison's head and how much of this was actually hard fact was up for debate.

It was when the bell rang once more and Lydia quickly realized that the lecture was over that she shook herself out of her reverie. She groaned silently as she stood up and began loading her things back into her bag, she had a feeling it was going to be a long day. She found herself glancing at the dulling skies outside of her classroom window, momentarily caught up in the way the chunky ashen clouds shifted. It was going to be a long day, and it was only first period.

xxxxx

"Earth to Lydia," Allison was snapping her fingers in front of Lydia's face.

She jerked back a little in surprise as she focused on her friend's miffed expression. She was a little mad at herself for daydreaming so much, she usually kept her swelling thoughts to a bare minimum. It was lunch hour, and they sat alone at the table adjacent to the so-called 'popular' table, she often preferred just eating with her best friend, although she did sometimes have to bounce from table to table to keep up appearances. The cafeteria was alive with the incessant babbling of dozens of kids her age, and the intermingling smells of ketchup and deodorant were beginning to give her a headache. Lydia blinked, before swiftly covering her mistake up with an easy grin and a believable lie.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about Aiden," Allison cocked her head to the side.

"Aren't you guys like a thing?" Lydia considered this, before nodding no.

"That's exactly it. I don't know where we stand. We haven't exactly defined the relationship." Allison nodded her head, like this was the most interesting piece of information she'd heard all day.

"Latest update?" Lydia shrugged. "He called me over to his place tonight. His parents are out of town." Allison broke into a roguish smirk, "Oh. You know what that means," Lydia nodded swiftly. "Honey, of course. How can a girl refuse to fine wine and a fine boy?" Allison grinned, only her mirth was short lived, Lydia noticed the girl stiffen up as something at the entrance of the cafeteria had caught her eye.

When Lydia turned around to peer at what she was looking at, she realized that it wasn't just something, more like a pair of things. Scott McCall, the resident newbie and lacrosse jock, was making his way towards the cafeteria, and not further than a few steps behind was his shadow, Stiles Stilinski. The two were just as inseparable as they were insufferable. Wherever Scott went, Stiles was sure to follow. Kind of like a loyal puppy. Allison had this weird thing going on with Scott, Lydia had a feeling she was falling for the doofus.

Scott was cute, sort of, if one was into the whole dimpled, dark haired awkward boy thing. Lydia glanced at her friend once more, she wasn't quite sure what Allison's type was, but she felt like the girl could do better. Allison was beautiful, she had dark eyes and brunette hair that she'd recently cut so their tips brushed against her collarbone. She dressed competently and had heads turning all the time. Scott just wasn't good enough for her, but Lydia was a supportive friend. "You still into him, aren't you?" Allison looked appalled. "I never told you that," Lydia rolled her eyes. "I've got an IQ over 170, Allison. I can fathom a crush." Allison was one of the only people in the school who saw through her dumb girl routine. The girls didn't have any secrets between each other. The brunette blushed, her cheeks suddenly the color of beet root. "You think it's stupid," she intoned. Lydia took the last bite of her sandwich. "Whatever floats your boat."

The McCall boy and his best friend paused right by their table, Scott looked as if he was building up the courage to say something while Stiles simply hanged back anxiously, tapping his foot against the floor. "Hey Allison," Lydia tried not to scoff at the stuttering boy, but when she stole a glance at her best friend, Allison looked like she was enthralled. Adorable, blind adolescent love, Lydia thought. "Hey, Scott. What's up?" Scott's lower lip was quivering, and he was still clearly fumbling for the right thing to say. Stiles nudged him in the foot and Scott staggered, before quickly regaining his balance. "I know this is last minute and you probably have a date already, I mean why wouldn't you have a date already? You're gorgeous! Uh... Point is, I was just, I mean, I was wondering if you don't have a date maybe we could go to the Spring Formal together?" Lydia stifled a laugh, but Allison was already grinning from ear-to-ear. "Nobody's asked me yet," she said. "I'd love to go with you." Scott's entire face lit up like a Christmas tree, "Really? Awesome! I mean..." he lowered his high pitch. "Cool." Allison laughed, and Scott began walking away after that, rather swiftly. Stiles for once, didn't follow. He was scratching his neck, and his gaze was riveted on her.

"So, Lydia," he began. "In the spirit of new beginnings would you like to -" Lydia cut him off for the second time that day. "No thanks." Stiles sighed, "Right." He murmured under his breath as he shuffled away. Allison looked almost sheepish. "You should go easy on him. He's had a crush on you, since like, the third grade," Lydia shrugged nonchalantly.

"And I've had better taste, since like, forever."

xxxxx

"I'm sorry babe," Aiden began. "My parents are gonna be back earlier than I'd planned."

Lydia took a deep breath and let it out, her tone rather bored simply to cloak her disappointment. "We could still do something. How does dinner sound?" There was a pregnant pause on the other end of the line before Aiden responded. "That sounds great. We can go to that new Italian place that's opened down my block." He sounded rather astonished that she wanted to go on what was implied an actual date. "Perfect. Eight sounds good?" She could practically picture him smiling as he responded,

"Absolutely."

When she cut the phone, she actually felt positive about a relationship after what felt like a long time. She wasn't sure where they were headed as an item, but she wanted to find out. Lydia glanced at time. She was laying around rather lazily in her bedroom after school, but she hadn't realized how the time had passed. It was almost seven by now. It was time to get ready.

While she began getting dressed, she turned on the television so that she could check out the news. Lydia wouldn't admit it to anyone, but she sometimes stalked Spiderman whenever she was about to step out of the house, so that maybe she could catch sight of him for once. She always followed Twitter updates from his fans about recent sightings, scoped out YouTube for unseen footage, she even had a blog dedicated to him and her thoughts about him. One day she would discover her mystery man in the red and blue suit. "There's been some strange happenings going on around town, Travis," the reporter lady on the television announced. "Apparently there have been multiple sightings of a man on fire," the reporter explained.

"Here's some interesting footage," The television screen blanked out before they broadcasted a camcorder tape. The footage wasn't clear but what Lydia could make out was a fiery outline of a man in encroaching darkness. The kid who was taking the footage was screaming something in German (one of the few languages Lydia didn't expert in, unfortunately), before the tape ended. Lydia wanted to watch more, but a knock sounded at her door and she instantly flipped off the television.

"Come in!" She called out. She still hadn't picked out an outfit for the evening, but she always made time for a little chat with Mummy Dearest. Her mother strolled in, shutting the door behind her as she seated herself at the edge of Lydia's bed. Her mother was a beautiful woman, Lydia loved the way her gentle eyes crinkled when she smiled, and she always felt at home in the secure embrace of her mother's arms on lonely nights. "Does my little girl have a date?" She quizzed playfully, her eyes sparkling. Lydia couldn't help but chuckle, her mother's jocular mood was infectious. "We'll see." She responded rather cryptically. "Well, don't blow it, alright? Go get him, and if he doesn't reciprocate, it's his loss," Lydia thought about Aiden and the way he'd always attempted to awaken something more than just lust and sexual desire in their relationship. "I don't think we've got to worry about reciprocation," she mulled silently. Her mother sighed, the grin dissipating like a dark cloud was hanging overhead. "Lydia, your father's coming to visit for the weekend."

Lydia's father was a slightly sensitive subject. She ached for the days when her family was regular and happy, recently, her parents had decided that they needed to spend some time away from each other, but Lydia knew that was a euphemism for "we're getting separated". She wasn't really awaiting the day that separation turned into a divorce. "Say it with more enthusiasm, mom," she mocked sarcastically, noting the way her mother changed on a dime at the mere thought of her husband. "I'm sorry, Lydia. Everything will be alright. We just need time. You don't worry, okay? Have fun on your date." Lydia watched wordlessly as her mother turned around and left, gently closing the door behind her to give Lydia her privacy. She hated when people said that everything would be alright, because usually when people said something like that, absolutely nothing was truly alright. Yet another wonderfully mordant trait of human nature.

"We lie to ourselves more than we lie to anyone," Lydia murmured to herself before she emptied her mind, to fill it with average teenage girl thoughts like what she was going to wear.

After minutes of ransacking her closet, Lydia picked out the perfect outfit. It was a rather fitting emerald dress that brought out the color of her eyes. It fell just a little above her knees. It was plain - so it wasn't trying too hard, yet the royal fabric and the rather provocative cut signaled she was trying enough. She had a green velvet coat to top it off with and black stilettos that would complete the look. She left her strawberry blonde curls hanging loose and only when she was done with the makeup did she bother glancing at the time. Lydia gasped when she realized it was already 8.20 pm. There was being fashionably late, and then there was being obnoxiously late - what if Aiden had already left the restaurant? What if he thought she'd stood him up?

Lydia raced out of the house, grabbing her car keys off the kitchen counter while at it. Lydia's blue Toyota awaited her in the parking lot. Once in, she jabbed the keys into the ignition and the engine whirred to life, she stabbed at the breaks, heading off into the night. She was driving in dangerously high heels again, her mother would've killed her if she knew, but Lydia didn't care. She was used to it by now. She wouldn't be caught dead any other way. Plus, it was absolutely beneficial for a lady to be able to drive like a boss in six inch heels. As per Lydia, high heels were valuable in a number of ways: to looker taller and more poised, to stab someone's eyeballs out, to be the cherry on top (or in the bottom) of every fabulous outfit ever. Lydia hadn't wasted any time, and she reached her destination in under five minutes despite the perpetual New York evening traffic. She parked her car in the lot of the Italian restaurant, Giovanni's.

It wasn't until she'd gotten out of the car that she'd realized how crisp and chilly the air had gotten. She tugged at the collar of her jade green coat, pulling it closer to her neck. The sky was starless tonight, as most smoggy city skies often were. Clouds were gathering above head, a puffy ring of overcast circled the crescent moon, so it looked like the moon was wearing a hula hoop. Lydia quickly pushed past the stretching line of people and made it towards the reception. The receptionist looked rather swamped, but Lydia called out to her anyway, standing awfully close to a man seemingly in his mid-forties who was arguing with her. "I understand, sir, but we're -" Lydia tapped the lady on the shoulder. "Hi, um - reservation for two? Perhaps under the name Martin?"

The receptionist skirted her once before sifting through her records and nodding curtly. "Step right in."

Lydia sighed in relief as she pushed past the double doors and into the extravagant restaurant. For a new place, it was doing quite well considering the snaking line outside. The interiors were rather magnificent as well. It was adorned with golden lanterns, showpieces and sparkling fountains. Lydia noticed that one of the fountains was in the shape of a baby angel, it's expression impish and its little hands shot upward in an offering position. It held a metallic lily in its palms from which water was spurting into the crystal pool beneath it and forming marvelous ripples. The lanterns and dim lighting of the ambiance had bathed the area in yellow light. The smells of good cooked food wafted through and Lydia instantly knew that this was a great place for a date - extremely romantic. She spotted her date at the far end of the room, near a large circular window that overlooked the parking lot. It would have been more preferable if the window had been overlooking a mystical garden or something, the rocky pavement of the parking lot did nothing but remind her of stark realities; but she wasn't exactly in the position to complain. Aiden looked great today, he wore a form fitting black t-shirt and dark jeans to go with, his blond hair looked slightly damp, like maybe he'd recently taken a shower. He smelt like expensive cologne. He shot off his chair so quickly at the sight of her that she had to stifle a laugh, he broke into that immensely attractive half-smile thing that boys often did.

"Glad to finally make your acquaintance, Miss Martin," he said dramatically. "I was starting to believe you were gonna be a no show." Lydia shot him a sheepish smile as she pulled off her coat and hung it on her chair before taking a seat. "I was caught in traffic," she bluffed.

It was one of the perks of living in a city like New York - one could blame everything on the traffic. Aiden narrowed his eyes like he didn't really believe her, but he let it drop. "So what do you feel like? Something cheesy?" Aiden questioned, handing her the menu. Lydia bit her lip, "Literally or figuratively?" Aiden met her eyes, something intensely playful shining in his own.

"Both."

Once they'd placed their orders, Lydia watched Aiden carefully as he was staring down at his phone screen, probably texting somebody. She was over Jackson, at this point, she had to be. No matter how difficult it was to let go of his memory, she knew she was holding on to a ghost. Jackson was gone. Probably living it up in London somewhere. He probably already had some super hot, blonde, accented girlfriend with washboard abs and a piercing on her tongue. It was time to move on. She wasn't sure if her little infatuation with Aiden would develop into anything more than it was, but she was on this date and that was progress. She was giving it a shot. She couldn't remain glued to the same place she'd always been in. Aiden looked up from his phone, catching her staring, and Lydia blushed. "I'm glad you asked me for dinner," Aiden muttered rather softly.

"I was beginning to think things were going nowhere between us." Lydia nodded slowly, "I know. Honestly, I wasn't sure we were going anywhere either. I... I'm still not. But I wanted to give it a try, you know?" Aiden's expression hardened. "Is that what this is to you?" He questioned. "Just a trial round?"

Lydia frowned, leaning back in her chair, rather miffed by his sudden unease. "Because I've already gone through that, Lyd," he muttered. "Tons of times." Lydia sighed, maybe he was right. Maybe she just wasn't meant for relationships, for love. For how long was she going to lead him on? Aiden's expression seemed to soften again, perhaps he was sensing her own unease. "Look - I like you, Lyd. I want for us to be together. I want it to be serious. But I want you to feel the same way about me and so far? It all feels rather one-sided." Lydia knitted her eyebrows, her expression opaque. "Are you kidding me? We're always making out, Aiden. We're always -" Aiden didn't let her finish. "I'm not talking about it like that. I'm talking emotionally. It always seems like you're present here with me physically, but your mind's somewhere else. Like... You're always so out of it these days." Lydia shook her head, suddenly feeling this wave of fatigue wash over her. Maybe this date hadn't been the best idea after all.

She opened her mouth to say something, but her words were drowned out by the sudden clamor of shattering glass and screaming people. Lydia's head jerked up so fast she was almost sure she'd strained a vein in her neck. "What's happening?"

That was when she heard the gunshots.

It wasn't like she hadn't heard gunshots before, or well, it was kind of like that considering she hadn't heard them in real life, but she was well versed to what they sounded like. They were loud, swift, sharp - the reverberation was heavy, terrible. Aiden was already up on his feet, and Lydia was close to follow. He stood protectively in front of her, even though he was shaking himself. "We - We've gotta get outta here!" He shouted above all the noise.

People were running, fleeing, Lydia wanted to do the same, but somehow her legs wouldn't work and she was frozen in place.

All around her was chaos. People crying, wailing, dying, even. Her vision was blurring, and she could hear her heartbeat roaring in her ears. Her stomach was flipping. She'd seen stuff like this happen on the news all the time, but no matter how much television she had watched, nothing could have prepared her for the real thing. It was the kind of fiasco one could never even fathom happening to themselves. Maybe now that was what she was going to be - just another story on the news. She felt Aiden's eyes widen as he yanked at her arm before swiftly turning around and darting away. If Lydia hadn't been so utterly shell-shocked, she would've slapped him before he'd dashed off for leaving her to fend for herself like that. She couldn't do that. She couldn't even move a limb. It was the kind of panic that swallowed one whole, the kind of panic that somehow shut off one's brain and all their vital functions, leaving one catatonic. Lydia used the only weapon she had: her voice.

She screamed. As loud as her vocal chords allowed her to go. The triumph was short lived, she felt shards of glass raining everywhere like tiny, dagger-like diamonds. Then there was a hand smacked across her mouth. She struggled against the grip of her assailant, until she felt a barrel of a gun at her back and stiffened. Hot breath like a serpent's danced against the skin under her ear, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. "Struggle again and I shoot," the voice was rigid, and she wasn't able to tell whether it belonged to a man or a woman. She was however, able to tell that their voice was deep. Lydia could have done countless things, she could have kicked him in the shin with her high heels, or swiftly turned around and headbutted him so hard that the gun was knocked right out of his hand. But she was too afraid of that gun against her spine. If she did any of those things, there was a chance he would shoot. She didn't know why he hadn't killed her yet, but she wasn't willing to find out anytime soon as long as he kept it that way.

If he was, in fact - a he in the first place.

That was when things started to get really scary. Most of the people inside the restaurant had already either cleared out or gotten captured or killed outside. Lydia couldn't quite tell. A few victims were cowering underneath tables or hiding behind decor. The beautiful ambiance had been cut through with an invisible blade and like an open wound, destruction and debris was pouring out. All the candles enclosing them had been blown out by what seemed to be a sudden gust of wind. That was when a masked man came into view. He stood mighty above the crumpling wreckage, and he wore a black hoodie and black pants. By his height and build, he seemed to be the size of a wrestler. He wore a grotesque mask, painted with the features of a smiling demon. It was when he raised both palms in the air that Lydia began resisting against the one who held her again.

"Stop wasting time. Kill her already." The masked man directed.

It was now or never. Lydia kicked her assailant in the shins as she'd planned, she heard a gunshot go off, but she didn't feel the impact of a bullet. Instead, there was this insane gust of wind again, and she was hurtling backwards, she felt her skull crack against a hard surface, and then she felt warm blood trickling down her forehead. Her entire body ached like she'd been run over by a steamroller.

Lydia was starting to black out when she suddenly felt a firm arm grip her waist, and instantaneously she was propelled upwards. Her vision kept shifting in and out of focus, as if someone was turning the lights on and off or bad television reception. "Hey, whoa," the voice said. "Stay with me now!" She felt a hand brushing her hair back slightly, away from her eyes. Even her hair was damp from the sticky blood.

It was only when Lydia's vision cleared again that she recognized the familiar mask - not the creepy ghoulish one of the man who'd called for her death, but the famous red and blue that belonged to Spiderman. Her eyes almost popped out of her head. It was him. It was really, truly him.

Hope blossomed inside her chest as they sailed through the winds, cool night air slapping at her face. Lydia had to bury her head in his chest, and her clutch tightened around his neck. She didn't want to look down. She didn't want to see. It was weird, how comforted she felt in the embrace of a stranger. Even if that stranger happened to be the city's one true hero. "Brace yourself," Spiderman muttered and for one, awful, heart racing second - he let go of her and her grip loosened so she was falling, falling downwards. This was it. Her hero wasn't going to be able to save her. She was going to die.

Only a second later, she felt him grab onto her again. Her nails dug into the material of his suit at the nape of his neck and she squeezed her eyes shut once again. A few more agonizing seconds later, she felt her knees buckle and they stumbled onto a concrete surface. She almost tripped on her heels as her eyes fluttered open once more. "Sorry," he said. "I haven't gotten the whole landing thing quite figured out yet," he admitted. Spiderman was holding the back of his neck with both hands, already backing away quite swiftly. She drank in the boy in the strangely well-fitted suit. She'd met him; she'd finally met him and he'd saved her life. It had only taken a massive head wound and escaping the clutches of literal death to experience it, but it was truly a dream come true. "I've gotta go" he said as he continued to back away. "Got a psychotic wind machine to stop. Stay safe, okay? Get out of here and go home."

Psychotic wind machine. In the back of her mind - a thought formed, a thought as improbable as her hero saving her from imminent death. That masked man had somehow blasted her with drafts of wind. It... It wasn't even fathomable. Lydia stared with her mouth hanging open as Spiderman shot a web that spiraled up towards the roof of the now derelict Giovanni's and disappeared through a window. Get out of here and go home. Was that something he often told the people he saved? Lydia blinked; finally realizing where Spiderman had 'dropped her off'. She was standing on a sidewalk across the road from the Giovanni's, and she could hear police sirens sounding out all around her. A uniformed man dashed towards her, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders and gently touching her wrist. "You alright, Miss?"

Lydia couldn't answer. It wasn't the inexorable pain that throbbed against her skull. It wasn't the catatonic shock again. More like a gradual realization that there was something that was truly familiar about Spiderman. Something that went beyond what she'd gauged from stalking him occasionally.

This was the sort of familiarity that told her that Spiderman was somebody that she knew.