lydiascreams | For drawnhere

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She knew there was trouble. Of course there was. There were hit men. Professional hired assassins looking for them. This was somehow even scarier than dealing with the supernatural because these men? They didn't care what happened, they didn't have a master plan or a goal like most of the supernatural creatures they'd dealt with before. No. They just wanted their money, and for that? They had to kill them.

If she thought the meeting with Araya was going to be bad, it had just gotten a lot worse. And really, by now, she should always assume the worse.

Lydia was still terrified of failing someone else because her powers weren't working properly. Because she had no idea how to control them. So the second she felt that knot in her stomach along with her anxiety rising, she closed her eyes and let her instincts guide her.

It was almost three in the morning. She hadn't been sleeping well lately so she was still up. Reading. Trying to improve herself. And now she was parked outside the police station.

She rushed in and when she stopped, she was staring down at Deputy Parrish's desk. The chill down her spine got stronger and the voices in her head got louder.

It was him. He was the one they were coming for. She knew his name was on the list but she didn't know what he was. She doubted he knew what she was, too. But right then, she just hoped he was going to trust her enough.

"You have to come with me. Right now."

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"I guess so."

He was quiet the rest of the ride, unsure what else to say to her. He was driving around with a teenage girl in his car. If he wasn't a deputy, someone might call the police on him.

When they reach the lake house he parked close to the front door. "Stay here. Let me clear the house first and make sure they didn't get ahead of us somehow."

"No," Lydia said almost immediately. She hated staying in the car, why did everyone keep telling her to do it? "If there's something in there, I need to be with you to feel it. I'm coming with you." Yes, it was mostly a lie, but she wasn't going to let him go inside by himself.

So without another word, she reached for the door, grabbed her purse and stepped out of the car.

He muttered under his breath about reckless behavior and safety being important but he knew it didn't matter. She was already out of the car and he had no choice but to follow her. He caught up to her and grabbed her arm to stop her from entering the house.

"Stay behind me, at least. And if I tell you to run, you run straight back to the car and radio for help, do you understand?" His tone and his grip on her arm had to tell her how serious he was. He wasn't going to let either of them enter the house until she understood that and agreed to it.

Lydia glanced down at the hand on her arm then looked up at him again. He had kind of saved them back there, so she wasn't going to argue, not this time. Instead, she held the keys out to him.

"I'll be right behind you," she agreed, staring up at him, then nodding. She was going to call for help, but not necessarily the official kind of help. Scott and Stiles were already freaking out at her via text message, if she screamed, Scott would be there in no time.

"Thank you." Mike gently pushed her behind him and took the keys. He approached the door cautiously, looking for any signs of forced entry. He didn't see anything but if these were pros then there might not be any signs to find. He took a breath, unlocked the door and slipped inside.

Quietly, he moved through the house room by room, his gun out and his reflexes ready for anything. The house, blessedly, is empty. There's no sign anyone has been inside recently or that anyone had come and gone. He relaxed slightly and holstered his gun.

"It looks like we're clear."

Lydia was exactly one step behind him the entire way, she knew the house and kept glancing over her shoulder after every corner just to make sure there was nothing coming up behind them to surprise them.

"Looks like it," she agreed, looking up at him as she let out a breath and relaxed, too.

"Do you want something to eat? I can see what we have."

"You should call your friends and explain. They sound worried by how often your phone is going off."

He needed to talk to the Sheriff about this and planned to do so while she was on the phone with her friends.

"I need to call my boss and explain. I'm sure someone's called about hearing gunshots."

Lydia sighed as she looked down at her phone, then nodded. "Yeah." She wasn't actually planning on calling the boys. She was going to text them that she was with the deputy and hopefully that was going to be enough. Especially once he crossed his information with his dad.

But she could take the hint that he needed a moment, so she nodded at him. "Go ahead and make your call," she said, pointing to her right. "I'll be in the kitchen when you're done."

"Thank you."

He took five minutes to call the Sheriff and explain what was going on with him and Lydia. The Sheriff wasn't happy about it but then again Mike wasn't happy about it either.

When he came back into the kitchen he smiled apologetically at Lydia. "Sorry. Did you want to make dinner together?" he asked, honestly sad they were both stuck in this situation. "I'm a good cook."

By the time he got to the kitchen, Stiles had stopped answering her completely and Scott had just sent a 'Are you sure you're okay?', which Lydia was now confirming as she stood in front of the pantry.

But at his question, the Deputy had her attention. "No worries. You can cook?" she asked, surprised as she set her phone down on the counter. "Our resources may be limited, but I'm sure we can come up with something."

He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair. He left his gun belt on for now just in case. "I'm a bachelor. It was learn to cook or eat terrible food for the rest of my life. I decided to learn to cook."

He started going through shelves, curious to see what was available. She was kidding about there not being much. At least there was pasta and tuna fish. He could do a lot with that.

"Smart decision." She stepped closer to the pantry and looked inside, too. "I prefer baking, but I can cook pretty well too." Baking was organized, fail-proof and completely logical. It was just like a formula.

"I think we're pretty much stuck with pasta, though. Any thoughts?" She normally tried to eat healthy, but this was a pretty unique situation.

"You know, I can't get my bread perfect," he said as he started to pull things out of the pantry. He handed her a few things so that he could reach for more. "I think it might be my stove. It doesn't maintain a temperature very well."

He smiled at her, relaxing a little bit. "How do you feel about a tuna noodle casserole? If you've got some frozen vegetables and some cheese I can make a pretty decent meal."

"Uneven heating could definitely be a problem, but when we get back, I could take a look at the recipe for you, if you want." She could definitely tell if a measurement was off.

It was almost odd to see him relaxing considering she'd mostly only ever seen him behind a desk at the station. But he did have a pretty smile, so Lydia smiled back before turning to the fridge. "Almost sure we do have vegetables here, but I'm not sure about the cheese."

"Thanks." He nodded as he listened to her, laying out a few things on the counter next to the stove. "That's okay, we can use the creme of chicken soup I saw in there if we need to."

It was almost normal to cook dinner for himself except he has company in the form of a teenage girl. He wasn't sure what to do with that besides try to make her feel comfortable and safe.

This kind of cooking? The chaotic kind of just mixing ingredients that didn't necessarily make sense? This was the kind she rather do when she was alone and she was allowed to experiment (and possibly fail) without anyone seeing. So she was going to let him take the lead.

"Well, we're definitely good on the vegetables," she said, pulling out a bag from the freezer before looking into the fridge. "No cheese, though. Just yogurt butter." Which, her family preferred to actual butter.

"We really should go shopping tomorrow if your friends don't give us the all clear. I told the Sheriff what was going on and he's looking for a way to get protection for us."

While he talked, he cooked, moving around the kitchen with ease. He was pretty comfortable just about anywhere thanks to the Army shipping him around for years. This was nothing, even with the army of assassins after them.

"Yeah. There's a store just down the road, though so it shouldn't be a problem as far as being seen by others," she told him, placing everything she'd picked up over the counter and watching him move around like he knew the place.

"So, considering you knew about the supernatural already, how much did you figure out about-- everything that has happened since you got to Beacon Hills?" She had been thinking about that during the drive, she wanted to know how much they sucked at keeping things quiet.

"It wasn't until the Oni attacked that I was certain," he explained as he cooked. It was easy for him to talk and cook at the same time, he liked to multitask. "I paid closer attention to the people around me after that and noticed the little things. I didn't actually think you were anything."

Lyida seemed to be normal to him. Her and the Sheriff's son didn't seem to be anything at all but after finding out her true nature he wondered what Stiles might be.

"Yeah, they were pretty hard to miss." She didn't like talking about the Oni, she didn't like thinking about them and what they had done to Allison and Aiden. So she wasn't even going to ask him if they had marked him and change the subject.

"I guess the werewolves are easier to tell. Do you know any others in Beacon Hills? Supernatural creatures, I mean. Not necessarily werewolves."

"I keep to myself. I mostly socialize with other cops."

Witches were mostly solitary practitioners who kept to themselves. Jordan kept what he was quiet because he didn't want the questions or the suspicions from being something not human or practicing a religion that wasn't Christian.

"You're the first supernatural being I've spent time with since moving here."

"I really like the Sheriff but, don't you miss being able to talk to people who actually know?" Who knew about him, about what he was, about the truth, about everything that was happening in Beacon Hills and possibly in the world that most people chose to ignore.

She knew from experience that even as part of a pack, it could get lonely. She couldn't even imagine when he was on his own like that.

"I can always call home," he said with a small smile. "My mother and my grandmother are both witches."

He had learned most of the craft in his grandmother's kitchen. He remembered fondly sitting in his mother's lap hearing about the rules and laws of magic.

"And now I can talk to you and your friends, apparently."

"You mentioned that, but it's different, having someone there with you." And she missed that. Being able to sit down and talk to her friends. To her best friend most of all, but even the rest of the pack hadn't been around lately.

"You definitely can. They-- kinda know you're one of us already," she said. "They all saw the list."

"Does it worry you guys? To have another supernatural in your midsts?" He didn't want to upset the balance in their little group. He wanted to have a quiet life though Beacon Hills wasn't providing that.

At least he was on the list and not one of the assassins. Her friends should be able to trust him.

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