Chapter 38

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A/N: Next chapter will be the epilogue, loveys! Sad to see this story end, I know, but it's almost 80k guys. One of my longest stories ever. I'll admit, the epilogues only around 250+ words, but it's just a good note to end it off on. Also!!! 500+ votes! 7k+ reads! Honestly, it's endearing and motivating. Enjoy the last full chapter and thank you for reading!

Derek and Peter raced towards the door before Peter pulled up short, haunting Derek.

"We have to get Lydia."

"There's no time." Derek pressed.

"You don't understand, Derek, we're going too fast and racing right into Gerard's crosshairs."

"If I get the chance, I'm killing Jackson." There was no hope for the boy if he was under Gerard's little spell and becoming more separate from his former self as they spoke.

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"I have to help Jackson!" Lydia protested after Stiles partially explained that Jackson was in danger and not himself.

"What? No. No, no, you are not helping Jackson. I'm not risking you getting hurt. I'll be devastated and if you die I will literally go out of my freaking mind." He meant it. Lydia was his friend, a constant that had been in his life since he was a child, his first love and someone he had shaped his life around as a love-sick kid. "You see, death doesn't happen to you, Lydia. It happens to everyone around you. Okay? It happens to all the people left standing around at your funeral trying to figure out how they're going to live the rest of their lives now without you in it. Huh? And look at my hands!" He gestured to the twitching appendages left by Gerard's electric torture, trying to fist them and keep them together but failing miserably. "Do you actually think this was meant to hurt me? It was meant to hurt everyone around me."

Lydia stepped back from him, looking down at his shaky hands and Stiles paused, taking in a deep breath. He shouldn't be taking out his fur stations on her in her already fragile state.

"I'm sorry." He apologised, rubbing a hand over his face. Lydia huffed, turning away from him with a look of determination.

"I'll find Jackson on my owns." She strode out of the room, ignoring Stiles calls. It was too late anyway. She was gone.

Stiles sat on his bed, curling in on himself as he tried to still himself, tried to numb away the occasional twitches.

"So..." Stiles looked up at his dad. "Is there...anything there?" John was getting more confused by the day. Was Stiles just jumping from boy to girl as he went? Should he scold or congratulate the kid?

"Uh, no, no...We're both in love with other people." Stiles waved it off. John came and sat besides him, patting his shoulder.

"You know, even though you got beaten up and Jackson is dead, and it's probably shaken you up quite a bit, you should be happy about one thing."

"What's that?" Stiles asked dryly.

"You have amazing friends who you care about. You're a hero, son." Stiles physically withered, demurring as he denied.

"I'm not a hero." He couldn't help but think of his pack, and hope to god they were all okay. "I make an awesome side kick though." He felt a small swell of pride inside him as he smiled, hugging his dad quickly before he ran downstairs.

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