Black Webs

Chaos is Come Again

A/N: OMG I AM SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING FOR SOOOOO LONG. For those of you who don't bother with my updates I'm going to explain what happened.

Long story short I lost a whole lot of data, and all of my upcoming chapters, just because I didn't want to abandon this story and leave it unfinished I am rewriting all of the chapters that I lost so that I can finish it. I hope I haven't lost you guys. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE in the honour of the return of Black Webs, leave me nice comments & in-line comments. I've been feeling very down lately, I tried so hard to get my data back, I gave it to two separate computer guys to recover, to no avail. I need your kind words to encourage me again.

I'm literally rewriting this for you guys because I felt responsible somehow, and I'm not one of those writers who just abandons their audience bc of a roadblock. Anyway I hope it's satisfactory. I'll be honest, my chapters aren't as great as they'd been, because this is a rewritten version, a lot of events were recreated by memory. Hopefully, it's still promising content.

xxxxx

close my eyes and then
cross my arms,
put me in the dirt let me
dream with the stars.

xxxxx

t w e n t y - t h r e e:

L y d i a

"Where do we find one demented Stiles Stilinski in a giant city?" Allison questioned, to nobody in particular, as she grabbed her coat off the stand.

"We can start by tracking his scent," suggested Lydia. "I mean psycho or not Scott's werewolf senses should lead us straight to him. Please tell me Stiles has left something of his at your house in that clumsy and absentminded Stiles way he always does?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at the brown-haired boy, who broke into a grin.

"Several somethings, actually," he said, skipping into his bedroom to go grab it.

Scott returned with a dark blue jacket, it looked like the identical twin of the red jacket Stiles would always wear, only in a different color.

"This should do," he said. "All aboard the Mystery Machine!" he announced goofily as they strode towards Allison's car.

They drove aimlessly for two and a half hours. Scott kept trying, but to no avail. Maybe this had been a dumb idea all along; after all, the last time Lydia had taken a whiff of Not So Stiles Stilinski, he'd reeked of blood and death rather than of salt water taffy and mints. Eventually, when it was obvious they had to give up; Allison shot her best friend a side-glance.

The strawberry-blonde's eyes were trained on the sea of taillights in front of them; their red lights glinting, casting her entire face in a vermilion hue.

Lydia was aware that she probably looked lost. She felt lost. Her stomach was blowing up, and her heart had melted into candle wax.

If the police got to him before they did, someone was going to get hurt; and Lydia, almost selfishly, didn't want Stiles to be the one who did; despite the fact that he was more soulless demon and less teenage boy at the moment.

What broke Lydia the most was the fact that his legacy was crumbling into ashes and sawdust and there was nothing she could do about it, Spiderman had been something beautiful, something noble, and now he was going to be a fugitive who helped destroy New York City.

Allison wrapped an arm around Lydia's shoulder, while Scott drove and cursed, and drove, and cursed, and cursed a little more.

"Stupid freaking traffic! And... And, stupid freaking Stiles. You know, evil or not, he always knows how to spin himself into a web of trouble pun not intended. Do you guys want me to step out and try again?"