For You (There's Nothing I Wouldn't Do)

Waiting

"Winds in the east, mist coming in

Like something is brewing, about to begin.

Can't put my finger on what lies in store,

But I feel what's to happen all happened before."

-Colin Farrell, "Chim Chim Cher-ee (East Wind)"

Lydia used to pretend she was a princess once.

She would read herself fairy tales-her parents were always fighting; so loud and scary-and her numerous stuffed animals would be her audience. She'd put on her sparkly, plastic tiara and put her hair in messy pigtails before wrapping a sash around her dress. She'd steal some of her mother's heels and she would parade around her room, waving gracefully to her adoring fans. What a beautiful princess, they'd remark. How wonderful is she? How blessed are we to see her? And Lydia would beam and graciously reply that she was the one truly honored.

Her favorite story was Sleeping Beauty-though now she realizes that no, she does not need a prince to come and save her, thank you very much. Still, she'd be lying if she didn't admit that she always got butterflies at that point. The valiant prince would rush to his beloved's side and with a kiss, all would be restored back to the way it was before. My prince, the princess would whisper with a grin, I dreamt about you. Then, the prince would take her hand and they'd live happily ever after.

Yes, Lydia Martin used to believe in happily ever after. She used to believe in a love that could be eternal. All that had changed with her parent's divorce though and then there was the whole Jackson experience. To be frank, she hasn't felt that butterfly feeling since middle school.

But with Stiles . . . she knows that it could be something. Maybe not true love, but there is something there. Lydia can sense it deep within her. He's not a prince, but then again, she's no longer a princess. They are just two people-two teens thrust into a battle that they have no business being in. Their relationship is built upon secrets whispered and fleeting touches exchanged. She's saved him just as much as he's saved her.

So, maybe-just maybe-there's a chance that the two of them could forge their own happily ever after.

Lydia likes to believe in that.

"How is she?" Alison is a wreck, eyes red and puffy, mascara askew. Yet, her voice is even, her tone carefully measured. She regards Stiles with warmth, something that astounds him. How could everyone so easily push past what he had done-to Lydia, to all of them?

"Last thing we heard they were taking her to surgery." Scott manages to reply and the huntress nods her head. Shakily, she sits down on the other side of her former boyfriend. He offers a hand and she gratefully takes it. There's nothing romantic about it-just an offering of strength; something that Alison needs if she's going to make it through another vigil. "Isaac?"

"They discharged him." She runs a hand through her messy air, fingers getting stuck in a few knots. "He's perfectly healed." She laughs bitterly and then pulls her knees up onto the chair. With her free hand, she wraps an arm around them. "He's getting food." She's breaking-anyone with eyes can see that-and suddenly, Stiles is out of the chair and in front of her. "Stiles-?"

"Hit me." He orders and her expression alights with confusion.

"Stiles, what-?" Scott tries to interject, but Stiles holds up a hand for silence.

"Hit me, Alison." She shakes her head and looks away. "No, I deserve it, okay? I mean, c'mon, it was me that choked Isaac and me that stabbed Lydia, and fuck, she might die and I'm to blame-" The air is getting incredibly thin and his mind is racing a mile a minute, the words spilling out faster than he can process them, but he has to be punished for this-he needs to be punished-and since he knows Scott won't do something, maybe Alison-?