The Gate ⋈ A Stydia Story

[ 03 ] ulterior meaning

There was a whistling sound in her ear, blasting it with noise. She squinted, bright orbs of light dancing about her eyes. She moved her hand to block the lights, muffled voices soon replacing the whistling noise. Undistinguishable speaking was heard as the lights died down, and she moved her hand from her eyes. There was a cool metal table beneath her, and her body seemed to cling to it like an insect.

It felt like there was a hole in her chest, a cavity where something was missing. It was an opening inside her that she couldn't describe, it wasn't physical, only made her feel empty inside. It echoed and groaned as she shifted on the metal.

Her body was cloaked in a layer of sweat, clothes sticking to her skin in an uncomfortable way. She shifted a bit, but nothing happened.

"...heart rate," She was able to make out someone saying. She looked to be side, seeing the torsos of many.

".. full moon.." Another voice said, and she tried to speak out, only getting a rough croaking noise from her throat. A face appeared above her, belonging to Stiles. His eyebrows were knit together, eyes searching her quickly. She was confused, why was he so worried?

Her mind flashed back to what she could last remember... the flickering lights, her grandmothers body convulsing...

The words the old woman whispered reached the chasms of her ear again, the archaic speak echoing into the world around Lydia. She saw her grandmother briefly in the doorway, but then she disappeared.

"Archaic..." Lydia whispered to herself, a confused look growing on Stiles' face. He placed his hands on her cheeks, his skin feeling horribly cold on hers.

"What did you say?" He questioned, searching her face repeatedly for any signs of hurt. Deaton, Scott, Malia and Kira were beside the table now, all looking at her with confusion.

"It was Latin, Archaic Latin," Lydia whispered again, closing her eyes and translating in her mind what it all meant. Stiles grasped her shoulders and pulled her into a sitting position, resting a hand on her back as she swayed a bit.

"Did you see something?" Scott asked. She opened her eyes wearily, sliding between the faces that surrounded her.

"My grandma," She looked to her lap and mulled over the vision, "She was at Eichen House... getting electric shock therapy. She kept whispering something in Latin,"

Deaton's eyes narrowed a bit. "Do you remember what it sounded like, Lydia?" He questioned. She flicked her eyes to the wall in front of her, and began reciting the words in English.

"A banshee's wail will drop the veil, the gate will come to close," The faces surrounding her looked at Lydia with a nervous glint in their eyes. "The final scream will be released," She stopped for a moment, her breath catching in her throat and her eyes widening.

"As death takes what must be taken."

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Her eyes were focused on her hands, not daring to look up at an angry and worried Stiles. He was pacing in front of her, biting on a nail as his eyes flicked from her to the floor repeatedly.

"You said it was just a dream," He drawled angrily, the pat of his shoes on rough concrete stopping as he stood in from of her. She shifted uncomfortably on the examination table in Deaton's clinic. The rest were outside, probably using were-hearing to hear their every word.

"I though it was just a dream," She lied, tightening her hands around each other. She didn't even have to look up to know that his nostrils flared when she said that.

"After all this banshee experience, you thought that could be just a dream? You're smarter than that, Lydia! Why didn't you tell us?" Stiles walked closer to her and put a hand on either side of her, forcing her to look up at him.

"I just wanted to end senior year normally. I didn't want it to mean anything else." His lips turned down in a frown.

"You know whenever there's a freaky dream, or vision, or whatever, there's always an ulterior meaning. And this is dangerous, Lydia. Deaton said he's never seen anything like it." She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, guilt seeping in and settling in her stomach.

She remembered what Deaton told them, the whole in her chest, the gate. Her connection to the afterlife as a banshee was being used against her.

"I know," She said, looking down at her lap in shame. "I know, but can you blame me? This is scary, Stiles. I keep seeing my dead loved ones walking around, and now I'm some gateway for them to stroll in at their leisure? It's terrifying, and I'm sick of being scared." Lydia finished, burying her head in her hands. His anger softened almost immediately, and his hands were placed firmly on her shoulders.

"We'll figure this out. We always do. Not even a supernatural gate to a ghost world or whatever the hell it is can stop us." Stiles smiled at her, and the ghost of a grin danced across her lips.

"Yeah," she whispered, looking to his honey colored eyes. "We always do."

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The Gate
[ 03 ] ulterior meaning