This is going to be a short series on Stiles and Lydia's relationship when he comes back from the Wild Hunt and then goes to college. I hope you enjoy this :)

I do not own anything said in this chapter.

She isn't sure how she knew, but she did. Call it an emotional tether or being a banshee but she knew he was in the locker room close to death. Or close to vanishing again, and she wasn't sure which one was worse.

She ran, as fast as she could when she heard it; his distinct, familiar, husky voice calling out for Scott's help. It breaks her heart sometimes, how defenseless he can be. It's like she wants to wrap him in a warm blanket and keep him safe forever. She wants to protect him as much as he wants to protect her.

She can't explain what it feels like to forget someone that takes up such a huge part of your life, she felt it the day he was gone, a hole in her heart. Some sort of dissatisfaction, perhaps, that she couldn't meet Stiles before walking into school together, or not having him text her in the morning asking if she needed a ride. She couldn't help the guilt that consumed her body when she thought of Stiles alone, thinking that everyone had forgotten him, including her.

Although she remembered in time, she thought it awful she could forget him at all.

If she thinks of it now, she can't imagine ever forgetting someone that means so much to her today. But she can imagine the deep ache that would spread through her body and to her toes if he were ever to disappear again.

Seemingly, she found him in the locker room, right before he was about to disappear into dust and become a faceless memory of somebody she used to know. She can't explain the sense of relief she felt rush through her veins when she saw him, it was him, all along, it was him.

He was alive and that's all that mattered and being alone for three months didn't change him one bit. His hair, perfectly disheveled and wind swept looked softer than she remembered and all she wanted to do was run her hands through it and feel how soft it was. His eyes, the softest brown she'd ever saw, had amber specks dazzling in the dim light.

He was about to be taken.

Squarely, a gun was pointed to his head and opposite him stood the ugliest, most hideous monster in front of him. He took the form of a man, the outfit of a cowboy but his face resembled neither. Matted, greasy black hair hung limp on his head, a black cowboy hat covering his crown. His face was a knot of deep lines and wrinkles that made him look like a decaying corpse, his skin a shade of grey. He had no eyes, they were black pits of nothingness and it made Lydia wonder how he ever saw. It was a Ghost Rider.

Stiles was face to face with death, as he often was nowadays. His eyes were squeezed shut, willing for it to happen fast, unsure if he were to end up back in the Wild Hunt or turn into nothing.

Beneath the relief of finding Stiles, Lydia didn't think twice before a scream ripped from her throat and sent the Ghost Rider flying. It took a lot in Lydia's strength to do that, it made her weak afterwards, although she never said that to anyone, she wanted people to think that she was strong, that being a banshee had its perks. But it didn't.

The way Stiles looked at her was golden, and nothing could've made Lydia feel more in love than she already was.

"I didn't say it back." Lydia breathed, she knew it was pathetic. She hadn't seen this kid in three months and that's all she had to say? She was carrying on from their last conversation and hell how would she know if he knew what she was on about?

He walked determinedly at her, and she matched his pace so that she can feel him against her. To make sure he's really there. "You don't have to."

Their lips collided in an desperate act of passion. Emerald met Whiskey and just that simple blink of an eye allowed them to come together, to be one. Their lips brushed each other and the world went quiet around them. He kissed her like she was sunlight and he'd been locked away for 365 days. The minute his lips brushed hers she felt like she'd done this forever, it felt so familiar. Every atom of her became connected to him.

Her hands cupped his face, she felt his soft warm skin beneath her on fingertips and it made her want to cry, she missed him so much and he was there holding her. She cried into him, her lips parted as he lent in for more, he tried to savor the taste of her. His nose was pressed into her skin, his hands clutched her back, pulling her close if it was possible.

Her fingertips danced across his face, touched every mole, every dip just everything he had to offer because she was scared he'd disappear again. She gently scratched through his hair, she didn't know that last time he would've washed it but she didn't care, because Lydia Martin was running her hands through Stiles Stilinski's hair.

Their lungs burned for air, and Lydia begrudgingly pulled away from him, her lips had swelled. Stiles fashioned a slight pout at the lost of contact, hell they could've kissed for hours and still not be tired. Lydia opened her eyes, finding his glittering and staring at her, flicking up and down from her lips to her eyes. She was doing the same.

A hand cupped his cheek, a hand cupped hers, they pulled back. Lydia smiled, one of her genuine ones because after all this time it's what Stiles deserved to see. His smile was different to hers, a small shy smile but also one of adoration.

Lydia was afraid suddenly, of how bare she felt, the raw romantic intimacy she'd never shared with anyone was just revealed, and it's like Stiles knew. He pulled her in for a hug, his arms held her upper body close to his and hers looped from under his arms and rested on his shoulders. He smelt faintly of his house and something earthy. His head buried into her hair and he could smell her shampoo, a wave of nostalgia hit him. They breathed one another in.

Their hug was tight and they just squeezed the life into one another for a while.

Lydia and Stiles had gone over what was going on, not between the two but what was happening with the Ghost Riders and Mr Douglas. Beacon Hills and the Wild Hunt were being merged, they had no idea where Scott or Malia was and everyone they loved were in the Wild Hunt. Everything had gradually turned to a disaster, well even more of a disaster than what it already was.

They were aware they had to divert the train, but they weren't sure how.

So they decided to follow the train tracks that had appeared out of nowhere that was at the front of the school. They ran, as fast as Lydia's heels would allow them, out of the school. The fear and adrenaline kept them going; they were both convinced a Ghost Rider was the school with them. Lydia's legs were too short for Stiles' long ones, every three steps for her was one for him, so he held her hand and tried to urge her to be quicker. Although he had abruptly stopped multiple times in order to maintain the same speed as Lydia.

They made it to the door, and Stiles' hand had reached out to grab the handle when a voice stopped them. "Stiles."

The voice was a woman, vaguely familiar to Lydia but Stiles didn't miss it. He had heard his mother. It had been almost ten years since he heard her speak but it was still clear as day in his mind. His mother.

His head snapped to the direction of the sound, and Lydia followed where he looked.

"Stiles is that you?" The voice said. Lydia saw the wheels turn behind his eyes, saw what he thought. She knew she should've said something then, but how was she supposed to tell him that it wasn't really his mother after so long?

"It's my mom." Stiles muttered, he edged closer and deeper into the hall, the destination before was abandoned.

"Stiles, it's not your mom." Lydia told him quickly, she reached out and grasped his hand, she hoped he'd believe her that easily, hoped they could just go out on the train tracks and sort what was up at hand.

He walked further, his hand gripped Lydia's tightly like he was afraid of what he might see. "No that's my mom, I know her voice."

Lydia's heart broke. He was fragile still, after all these years and she wanted to mend him. She wanted to put his broken pieces together, make him whole. She didn't want to put him through more grief, she wasn't nasty. Stiles adored his mother, still does, and Lydia didn't want to imagine what it must feel like to hear such an old voice after so long.

She tried to picture what it would be like if she heard Allison's voice after so long, she couldn't.

"No that's the wild hunt, they're trying to trick you." Lydia tried to explain, but his heart throbbed at the thought of her, he couldn't help when he dragged Lydia down the hall. "Stiles, please believe me."

He stopped then, and Lydia thought he did believe her. She thought she had gotten through to him, finally.

"The Wild Hunt brought her back, but she's not real." He turned and faced her, she didn't miss the flash of sadness in his eyes.

"What do you mean brought her back?" He whispered, she thought she heard his heart shattering into a million pieces. It made her own break too, and tears sprung to her eyes at just the thought of Stiles being sad.

"Stiles." Claudia's voice echoed throughout the deserted hallway. Stiles faced the direction she was coming from and reluctantly, Lydia's eyes followed.

He almost did a double take.

As clear as day his mother, not aged one bit since she died, stood at the end of the hall, her eyes trained on Stiles. Lydia clutched Stiles' hand, she hoped she could squeeze her sense into him. Her brown hair, that resembled Stiles', blew in the slight breeze. Crinkles creased her face and she walked steadily towards the pair.

"I know what you've been through," She said, and if Lydia knew better she'd mistake her manipulation for empathy. "I know how much you love your father."

Something in Stiles tensed, Lydia saw it from the corner of her eye and he took a step forward, half his body shielded Lydia's. Lydia saw as the light crept in, the atrocity that was supposed to be Claudia changed. Her skin became shiny and pale with dark lines mapping there way across her face. Her eyes were black, but still there. The only thing that would deceive you into thinking she was remotely human.

Her voice took on a demonic pitch. "But I love him more." She stepped forward, Stiles and Lydia stepped back. "But even from the Wild Hunt, you somehow wormed your way back into his memory."

Lydia cold see the hurt in Stiles' face, heard the slight shake in his voice as he spoke. "Well, worming is one of my skills."

Lydia reached out to him, standing as close as she dared when she addressed him. "That thing is conjured from your dad's pain." She needed to get him to run with her, but he was enticed by what looked and sounded like his mother a few moments ago. "If he remembers you, he can't believe in her."

"That's why you have to go." The Ghost Rider snarled. It stepped forward, ready to attack Stiles, but without a hesitation Lydia stepped forward, a scream built in her throat as she intended to shatter this things skull. She was too slow however, she was no match for a Ghost Rider. Her hand wrapped around her neck and stole the scream that itched at her throat.

Stiles bolted for her, his hands connected with the Ghost Rider and pushed her off of Lydia. But she was strong, she did the same to Stiles what she did to Lydia, she even lifted him off of the ground as she attempted to suffocate him.

"You shouldn't treat your mother that way."

"You're not my mother." Stiles spat, his voice strained, face beetroot red.

Lydia's throat throbbed with an immense pain, she still couldn't breath, her chest constricted as oxygen tried to enter her lungs but to no avail. The Ghost Rider had dragged Stiles away, pushed him against a wall and she could hear him choke and wrench for air like her.

"He believes in me," It spat, Stiles gagged for air, the same way Lydia did. Lydia thought she experienced the same pain as Stiles, she thought that was why she still couldn't breath. "Dreams, so hard to kill-"

"But not impossible." The Sheriff entered -his timing impeccable- gun in hand as Lydia and Stiles continued to choke. She had never felt more giddy at the sight of the Sheriff. He fired his gun at the Ghost Rider, a few times, but they bounced off its body like it was bullet proof. They refracted, making Lydia cover her head with her hands, she tried to create a barrier between the bullet and her brain.

"Noah, your bullets can't hurt me." So Lydia struggled to her feet, stumbled towards him and saw how Stiles was losing consciousness. It made her equally angry and hurt to see him so defenseless as he was.

"Fire again." Lydia's voice was a croak, but she was watching the boy she loved die in front of her, she wouldn't let what happened to Aiden and Allison happen to him. If she could stop it, she wouldn't let anything else happen to him again.

The Sheriff did, and with what little will power Lydia had left, she screamed. She put everything she could muster into her voice, which still felt like her wind pipe was being crushed, and screamed until her lungs burned. She pushed her hands out in front of her, forced what was once Claudia away from Stiles, freeing him.

Stiles fell to the ground, his shoulder took the impact from the fall and he winced, he coughed and spluttered from the lack of air. His normally fair-skinned face was scarlet red, his eyes watered and his breath came out in wheezes.

The Ghost Rider, what was once Claudia, disintegrates. Lydia watched the hope die out of Stiles' eyes, now his last vision of his mother's face was today, he watched her strangle the girl he loved and himself. He had to sit by and watch his dad, who he respects so dearly, shoot her until she vanished.

Lydia skidded over to him, collapsing to the ground when she met his feet. He cried, and Lydia felt herself begin to cry too because everything had the power to be good but it turned foul in the last few minutes.

"Stiles," Lydia sighed, he looked at her, his eyes still the same brown, and his mouth tugged down as his face fell. "Breathe with me."

She wanted to avoid a panic attack especially since she could feel her own coming on. She placed his hand on her chest so he would breathe in and out with her. They stayed like it for a while.

"You're okay." She said, after he'd calmed down. Then the Sheriff walked over, his eyes unusually red, and pulled his son in for an emotional embrace. After a few minutes they pulled her in too.

She'd never felt like she fitted into a family more than she did that day.