(AU - After episode 209 "Party Guessed")

Lydia had a horrible headache. It was that kind that makes the inside of your head feel as if it's on fire, and you don't want to open your eyes even when it's dark because any notion of light makes your eyes feel like they might explode. Groaning to herself, her hand going to her temple as she sat up, she smelled the most distinct scent of dust and mold. Peeking through her eyelids, she realized she was in semi-darkness, and her head was safe from exploding for the time-being. Looking around slowly, she realized she was sitting on the dirty floor in the burned out shell of the Hale mansion. How she got here, she hadn't a clue. About a foot away, lay Derek Hale, the brooding and unapproachable older guy she'd seen multiple times before but never really talked to, and he appeared to be unconscious.

"You should go," came a voice out of nowhere, and Lydia sucked in a gasp of air, jumping and looking around for the source. "He's not going to be very happy to see you when he wakes up, and he's going to wake up soon." The voice belonged to the town's veterinarian. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she saw the dark-skinned man step out of the shadows.

"What are you talking about?" she asked impetuously, her fiery spirit coming out even as she nursed a migraine and had no idea how she'd gotten to this creepy house in the first place.

"You don't remember, do you?" Dr. Deaton, the vet, asked her, crouching down to look into her eyes. She raised an eyebrow and pushed herself off of the dirty floor, trying in vain to wipe the crud from her birthday outfit as she moved away from him.

Her birthday! The last thing she remembered clearly was Stiles arriving at her front door with that ginormous box. God only knew what was in it. After that, well, she really couldn't even say the night was a blur because she remembered nothing. That was strange.

"I don't remember, what exactly?"

The doctor smiled a little half-smile and shook his head. "Just go home, Miss Martin. Like I said, it would be best if you weren't around when Derek woke up."

Fixing him with a suspicious look, she glanced down once at Derek and saw him stirring and decided now wasn't the time to prove whether the veterinarian was right or not. If something had happened that would somehow make the brooding young man angry with her, she wasn't in the mood to stick around and see how quickly he could snap her in half with those bulging muscles of his. Turning, she skittered out of the dark, dirty house, picking up a run when she hit the dead leaves outside and not stopping until she was safely within the gate of her family's massive house.

It was still early in the morning, dawn had barely cracked the horizon, and it was the weekend so she figured she had a few more hours she could sleep. She was still shaky and confused since seeing the vet, and she had no idea what had happened last night (which bothered her more than anything else). She wasn't the type of girl to get drunk or to do drugs because she respected herself, but she also hated the idea of losing control of herself for even a minute. Taking those anti-depressants after seeing that thing had been bad enough, and she didn't like the feeling. So forgetting an entire night and waking up in the musty old Hale house when her last memory was opening her front door for sweet, innocent Stiles was not on her to-do list.

Shedding her dirty clothes, she tossed them into a pile on the floor and crawled under her blankets, pulling them up over her head in an attempt to block it all out. Soon enough she was asleep, the cold gradually warming out of her toes as she lay covered by the blankets.

"Well done, Lydia."

The voice was so eerily familiar and she couldn't quite pinpoint why, but it jolted her out of bed instantly. Laying beside her was the same man she'd seen in her dreams before - or had she really been dreaming? she couldn't be sure - and he was smiling triumphantly at her. Her heart raced in fear and she clutched her comforter up to her chest in a subconscious attempt to protect and comfort herself.

"Who are you? What are you doing in my bed? Wait, you're Peter Hale," she amended, remembering the time she'd dreamed about following him down the hallways at school where he'd paused and looked at a picture of himself as a teenager. She still remembered the blue eyes, the pale skin, the animalistic way he looked at her. She still remembered the kiss. It was all coming back to her in a rush now, as if she'd forgotten it all somehow.

"Smart girl," Peter cooed in a proud voice. He sat up in the bed, his rough hand caressing the side of her face, almost scratching her soft skin. "That's why I chose you."

"Chose me..." she left the question open-ended, wanting to know more but not wanting him to know he had piqued her interest.

"Of course: chose you. You're immune, silly. We've been over this."

His tone was mildly reprimanding like an older brother teasing his younger sister, or an owner teasing his pet. His words brought back more memories to her, unwanted memories she knew now she should have wished she could never remember. Her visions of the Hale mansion in its former glory, the kiss with the arresting blue-eyed boy who turned into a grisled, burned man and then a snarling beast that attacked her. Her breath caught in her throat.

"You're remembering now, good girl," Peter cooed, tucking her strawberry blond hair behind her ear as she tensed up beneath his touch. "Thank you for bringing me back, even if you didn't invite me to your birthday party. I can't say I'm not a little hurt, but I'll get over it."

She couldn't find her tongue to speak, so she sat like a statue beside him in the bed, clinging to her comforter until her fingers turned white and went cold from lack of circulation.

"Oh, and happy birthday, by the way. I suppose I never officially said it," he shrugged, retrieving a small purple flower from his pocket, the same flower she'd seen in her visions of him before. Her green eyes widened at the gift and her body refused to react to take it although she sensed he would be incensed if she didn't. "Take it, Lydia."

Instantly, her hand released the comforter and grabbed for the flower, clutching it almost as tightly between her fingers as she'd been holding the blanket. She whimpered slightly, realizing he had more control over her somehow than she had known.

"What do you want from me? I did what you asked. I don't want to do any more," she pleaded, feeling weaker than she wished. The rest of her memories were returning now, how she'd drugged Allison, Jackson, Scott, and Stiles along with the other guests at her party. How she'd blown wolfsbane dust into Derek's face and drug him out to the Hale mansion to complete the ritual to bring Peter back from the dead.

Her eyes widened and she looked over at Peter in a mixture of surprise and disgust. No wonder the vet had told her to disappear before Derek woke up. He would kill her, she had no doubt. There was so much going on that she didn't know, but she knew it was much bigger than her alone. She was merely a pawn, a piece on Peter Hale's chess board for him to move when he wanted her.

"You remember," he stated plainly, smiling that all-knowing smile of his that was beginning to irritate her. It made her feel like she was ten years behind him in learning anything, like she had no control over what was going on in her life, and she hated that.

"I do," she replied as flatly, the emotion having run out of her voice in her fear and weakness.

"Good," he finished, sliding off of her bed and standing by the window in one fluid motion. The distance between them allowed her to relax, and she let out a long breath, watching his back as he stared out through her lacy curtains. "Then you're ready for what I need you to do next."

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "No, I won't, I can't..." she opened her eyes and saw the determination in his face even though he continued to smile at her. "You can, and you will. You really need to take control of your confidence, Lydia. You need to believe in yourself."

She pursed her lips in consternation and surrender, her shoulders slumping in defeat as tears brimmed in her green eyes. The wolfsbane flower in her fingers twirled as she rolled her fingers back and forth, staring down at it in admitted defeat. She couldn't win against this man. He was something she would never be: a werewolf. She knew it now. Allison wouldn't tell her what was going on, but she'd figured it out. If Peter hadn't appeared to her in her dreams, hadn't given her those weird visions of himself, she never would've believed it, but now she did.

"Now that we've covered that, let's continue to more important matters than your empty pleas to disobey me," he continued in a soothing voice that was poisonous, threatening in its nicety. He came over to the bed, sitting down and facing her this time, taking her chin in his hand and forcing her to raise her eyes to look at him. "I chose you specifically for your immunity, you already know this."

Lydia nodded her head, powerless in the tight grip that held her chin. "Obviously your immunity mattered little in what you've already done other than it linked us instead of turning you, but that wouldn't matter in the long run; I would still be alive again either way. No, it matters in the real task I have slated for you.

"You will be Derek's mate."

Her green eyes widened in disbelief and shock, and she instantly began shaking her head. "No! I don't even know him! He hates me, I know he does. I mean, I would if someone had drugged me and left me passed out in my burned up old house. He'll kill me for bringing you back and using him to do it. I-"

Her words cut off as she saw irritation bloom on Peter's face and realized she'd been about to say 'I can't'. Pursing her lips, she breathed in deeply through her noise and huffed out a breath. "Why?" It was the only thing she could manage to ask after her mini-tirade.

Peter smiled approvingly and released her face. "It's simple really. He can't kill you, but you can kill him."