UNFINISHED Stydia AU - Room Mates - Teen Wolf.

Hell and Night.

"Inside." Jackson took a step back into the apartment. "Do come in, ladies."

Kira didn't think twice, marching into the apartment without so much as glancing back. Lydia followed behind her, their hands still grasped tightly together. Don't you dare let me go, Lydia thought, suddenly panicked at the sight of a shadowed silhouette on the far wall. She gripped Kira's hand tighter, keeping her eyes on her hair, blue-black and ruffled from running.

Lydia saw Kira freeze as her eyes found Scott, blood drying on his cheek and wrapped up in chains. He looked otherwise fine, but Lydia could feel Kira's fingertips heating up again as her heartbeat rose.

"Let him go," Kira spat through gritted teeth, turning on Jackson. She suddenly released Lydia's hand, and Lydia saw a spark flicker and fall like a minuscule comet to the floor. It died immediately.

"Mmm," Jackson hummed as if he was considering it. "Nope, can't do that. Sorry Sparky." He paused for a moment, head cocked to the side thoughtfully. "Tell you what, though, we'll let him talk. That's why we're here, anyway." Jackson cracked a grin, stepping towards Scott.

As soon as Jackson stepped away, Kira rushed towards Scott, tossing Lydia her katana as an afterthought.

"I'm okay," Scott reassured her immediately. "Babe. Look at me. Hey." Kira's frantic once-over scan for any injuries paused, and she brought her eyes up to meet his, endless black on endless black. "I'm alright." He offered her a half-smile, and Kira relaxed a tiny bit. Her hand went up to his face, and she ran her thumb over the blood on his cheek. Scott's eyes closed at her touch.

"Is this yours?" Kira asked quietly. Her voice was soft, but she was suddenly tense again, every muscle pulled tight and ready. A living trigger. One wrong word, and the gun would go off.

"It was just a scratch," Scott said. "It probably looks worse than it was. Face wounds bleed a lot."

"Well." Jackson interrupted. "Isn't that just touching." Lydia flinched at just how cold and emotionless his voice was. She looked around the room, attempting to ignore the forbidding shadows that lined the walls.

"Where's-"

"Lyd," Kira stopped her. "There." She jerked her chin in the direction of the kitchen, and Lydia looked. There was a pair of red converse just visible, and Lydia was reminded suddenly, ridiculously of the Wizard of Oz movie, of the scene with the ruby slippers attached to an otherwise lifeless body. That was until the panic set in.

"Stiles."

He was unconscious, and there was a deep purple bruise on his forehead. Lydia fell to the floor beside him, her knees suddenly unable to support her. His skin barely felt warm, and she couldn't see the usual thrum of his heartbeat on his neck. Lydia's throat closed up, and she could barely manage a whisper as she said, "Scott. Tell me his heart is still beating."

It took two seconds for Scott to check, but those two seconds passed like months, and they were agonizing.

"He's OK, Lydia," Scott said. "Just knocked out."

As if to confirm Scott's statement, Stiles' eyelids flickered and his lips parted slightly. Lydia sighed in relief, running a hand over his face, as if to make sure that he was real.

"Wake up," she whispered. "Stiles, please wake up."

Jackson made a noise of disgust, rolling his eyes at her. "When did you get so sappy, Lydia? You used to be fun." Lydia didn't answer.

Jackson watched her with a look in his eyes that wasn't far off snakelike. A viper, poised and ready to strike at any second.

"Oh, how sweet." The snake mask split into a grotesque smile, and Lydia forced herself to meet his eyes, emerald on steel. "You're in love with him."