The feeling that woke Lydia out of a dead sleep wasn't indescribable. She knew it well. There was a darkness that threatened to swallow her whole every time she was brave enough to close her eyes. In every waking moment, it would push itself to the back of Lydia's mind. It as never fast enough for her to be able to pretend it was never there, but when Lydia's eyes snapped open, it didn't retreat. Flashes of leaves, dirt colored dark with blood, and a warm sensation in her stomach was gone in an instant, but her heart continued to pound with breathtaking violence. It was time. She didn't need to understand anything, because she just knew. The void that Lydia could feel every minute of every day wasn't waiting to swallow Kurt.
It was for someone else. Someone much closer, in every sense of the word.
Lydia sat up fast, but she turned her head to look to the other side of her cell faster. Allison wasn't in her bed. Allison wasn't even in the cell. Allison. She wasn't supposed to be working tonight. It was Allison. She was going to die.
After tearing the covers off, Lydia flung herself out of bed so frantically, she barely found her footing in enough time to stumble for her jacket and the gun Tony had made for her. Both arms weren't even in the jacket when she ran down the cellblock. She barely even registered Stiles' face, who had stopped walking her way when he saw Lydia running in his direction towards solitary. There was no attention paid to the words he said, or the concerned look on his face. All Lydia noticed was that he still had his gun on him. Good. Now all they needed was Scott. No one would be able to find Allison in time faster than the three of them. "No time to explain, it's Allison, she's gone!!" Before Lydia could even urge Stiles to come with her, Stiles turned and booked it towards exactly who she was making her way to.
Stiles reached solitary first. Lydia followed shortly after, and watched as Stiles fumbled with the keys. She knew he could hear her shouting his name over the snarls and howls that echoed through solitary, calling his name, telling him to hurry. He shouted something that Lydia could hardly register as English. The struggle with the lock on Scott's cell was over. All Stiles had to say was one name, and the three of them were barreling towards the garage, and climbing into Stiles' jeep.
The gate was barely even opened in time for Stiles to peel out of the prison. Lydia sat in the back of the jeep, and tried to remind herself to breathe. Countless trees flew by, but no sign of Allison until Scott was opening the door without even telling Stiles to stop. The jeep came to a sudden stop. Lydia's seatbelt had barely kept her from bouncing her head off of the back of Scott's seat, which he was no longer in. Lydia thought nothing of it, and neither did Stiles. In no time flat, the jeep was abandoned as Stiles and Lydia ran as fast as they could after Scott, the bright glow of the moon lighting the way. Maybe, just maybe, Lydia thought as she struggled to keep up with Stiles, they weren't too late.