"I just need you to find her." I sighed.

"Please, just..just find her."

The ground was hard and the scattered branches dug through the fabrics of my clothes into my skin in almost every places. The air was just above freezing I guess, I could see the frost leaving my lips but I could barley think straight, I didn't expect myself to feel anything but fear. I turned away from Scott after he mumbled a quick "I will" and sped off with his impressive speed and hopefully key sense of smell. I ignored the doubt in my mind and concentrated on the officers snapping crime photos, interviewing the driver, who looked really shaken up and briefing my dad. He had showed up quicker than I thought. A breeze passed through the trees and I sighed, feelings the bitter chill twice over, once for me and once for Lydia who was probably half dead from hypothermia right about now.

God Stiles, you're such an ass. I scolded myself, struggling to stay positive. It wasn't always easy being the easy going one. The heartbreak in my voice surprised even me while I all but begged Scott to find Lydia. He ignored the twinge of my voice and the hitching of my breathing and set out to do what I asked, and I was too appreciative for words. Dad looked so lost, so frustrated with everything and all I wanted to do was take him home, pour a glass of whiskey and send the poor bastard to bed. God knows he needed it. I knew sitting there wasn't going to do anything, and the junior officer they had on scene couldn't use the caution tape to save his life, and Scott wasn't coming back anytime soon, so I embarked out of the woods and right into the disproving glare of my dad.

It had been a half hour. The man in the ambulance was dead before the attack, Beacon Hill's coroner concluded with little enthusiasm. To me, this was great news. God forbid it was Lydia doing this, she wasn't killing people. That had to count for something. My dad didn't seem pleased either. He just sighed, patted the older man on the back and with a hard jaw nodded at the group crowded in the ambulance to start getting everything ready to move back to the station. He then turned to me, his eyelids heavy with sleep and a small but sad smile on his thin lips. "Stiles go home. Get some rest, you have school tomorrow." "Dad, can I get you something? I can run to Hess, get you a coffee, you take it black right?" I rambled, trying to stall. "I'm fine, seriously, get out of here." He was gaining more of his threat back and I sighed, scratching the back of my neck. It was exposed to the cold for too long I knew my ears and cheeks had to be red as Christmas lights by now. It was when I was about to drag my sorry ass through the creepy woods that I saw strawberry blonde curls covered in pine needles and a pair of kissable lips chapped from the cold. Lydia.

"Lydia?" I questioned, my voice weak with astonishment. She looked so scared, so cold and still insanely beautiful. My eyes traveled, my god she really did leave naked. Had Scott found her? I looked around but no one else was coming out of the woods. "Lydia!" I yelled a little louder, so she'd hear me. I caught the attention of the officers, and my dad who looked just as surprised as I felt. "Well" She called, "Is someone going to get me a coat?" Her arms left the safety of her chest and my god I couldn't look away. I quickly concluded that my button up was too thin to satisfy the insane cold she had to be feeling, and started to grab my fathers police jacket from his body, but my mind got the best of me, and I forgot how to use my feet and well, the rest is an embarrassment to history.

She was wearing my pants, my shirt and my socks. Dad hadn't gotten a hold of her parents yet and the officer was currently driving to both residence's, on either side of town. We sat in silence within my dad's small office. She was playing with her fingers, the redness was leaving her creamy skin and I noticed on my once over that she still had some leaf in her hair. "Uh, let me." I mumbled, gently plucking out the brown, thin as paper brittle crumbs,they fell to the ground, leaving her hair back to its normal state. "Thank you." She said between pools of tears. "Hey, don't cry." I mumbled, fully turning to her. I wasn't getting a response, and it bothered me. I wasn't wallpaper, I was a living breathing person, with feelings and I wanted to at least keep my dignity. I snorted and crossed my arms. I debated leaving, but no matter how annoyed she got me I still would chose to be in the same room with her. Her sobs grew, the room was still and the warm air passing between us couldn't stay ignored. Lydia looked at me, her big green eyes glassy and she did something I never once thought she'd do, ever. She grabbed my hand. I didn't know what to do, I froze; and I hated that. I had been waiting what all of eight years to be this close to Lydia Martin and I was freaking out.

"You okay?" I asked softly, no more malice in my voice. "I saw something." She whispered back. "In the shower, the water was black, hair everywhere and a hand and it grabbed me." Her eyes never met mine, but her hand held tight to my hand, her fingertips were still freezing. "Someone grabbed you?" I asked, the odd need to protect her rising in my voice. "No, no, not like that." She sighed, feeling utterly foolish. "I had to have imagined it, I'm crazy right?" Now she looked at me, and with one look into those damn green eyes I am putty. "I don't think you're crazy." I was as honest as I have ever been. Lydia looked surprised. "Look, Lydia, whatever they ask, whatever they try to get out of you don't tell them what you just told me okay? I believe something happened to you, but they're not. I'm going to figure this out, I promise you." The nappy, bird nest of her hair was piled on top her head in a rubber band from the third drawer of dad's desk, my dark gray shirt didn't drown her like I thought it would, the sleeves were balled up at the ends, and that smile she was giving me was a mix of uncertainty and complete faith. She nodded at me, as if my words set some kind of conviction into her brilliant mind. The smile didn't waver, nor did her hand leave my own. "Lydia, your mom is here." Dad came through the door, a cup of coffee in one hand, the other holding a folder I hadn't seen before. "Okay." She mumbled, getting up. She seemed a bit disoriented, yet so did it. Lydia walked to the door, my sweats dragging the whole way and as she rested her delicate hand on the door frame, she turned back to me, her eyes reading me, reading every thought I could confer to her in that short glance. "Thank you, Stiles."

And then she was gone.

And I wasn't going to get enough sleep to make it though tomorrow.

And I was completely okay with that.