Lydia caught him as gently as she could, and if she was crying, she didn't realize it, not fully. Lowering him to the ground, she cradled him there, brushing fingers over his face, and murmuring some sort of comforting nonsense about how sorry she was, that she hadn't realized who he was, that it was her fault, and she was sorry, but she was going to fix it now. She gestured for one of the bikers blindly, but they were bound tight enough to come and drop beside them both, and she didn't even hesitate, but snagged the man's wrist and near slashed it with her teeth, before holding it up to John's lips.

She could feel his pain, running through her, not able to keep her walls up around him, and her murmurs turned coaxing. He didn't have to open his mouth, not far, just part his lips. The blood was right here, just take a small sip, just a little, and the pain would ease, please, just a bit, for her, he could do that, right?