"Malia, poking her repeatedly isn't going to make her wake up any faster." Peter's exasperated voice broke through the tension-filled silence. He narrowed his eyes in annoyance.

"You don't know that…" Malia groused. Peter paced the length of the floor, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. Although initially he'd demanded Lydia be taken to a hospital, it had been decided that the best place for her was at home, surrounded by friends and family. Parrish had basic field medic training and Peter allowed him to check Lydia over. After a few minutes, Jordan declared Lydia's temperature, heart rate, blood pressure, and reflexes were all normal. Therefore her response to the news of Natalie Martin's death was purely psychological. She needed comfort, not medicine.

"I never took her for a fainter." Derek's voice remained level and his expression did not change. "Screamer, sure…"

"Watch it," Peter growled.

"Are you sure we shouldn't call a real doctor? She's been out for over two hours." Stiles chewed his thumbnail as he leaned over, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest. At least Lydia didn't seem to be in any acute distress. She looked peaceful. "Maybe we should call Scott. He could use his alpha powers to snap her out of it or something…"

Peter scoffed, "I'm sure Scott is staying close to his mother right now. She needs him far more than we do." As the only victim that the killer hadn't actually murdered, Melissa's life hung in the balance. The Sheriff had a guard posted outside her door at all times but they all knew damn well that no rent-a-cop was going to be able to stop this unhinged bitch. Scott kept constant vigil over his mother, it was the one that Peter truly respected about him: family loyalty.

"You just don't want to call Scott," Derek huffed.

"Well, that too," Peter acquiesced. He saw no reason to lie; it was no secret that he cared little for the true alpha and his collection of freaks and geeks. Peter Hale cared about his family, Owen, and about Lydia. Beyond that, he was content to let the rest of the world go down in flames. It was bad enough Stiles was here and couldn't seem to keep his paws off Malia; dealing with Scott would be too much to ask right now. "We don't need McCall. Lydia will come around when she's ready…"

Malia plopped down on the bed beside Lydia, jostling the unconscious girl. "Do we have to wait for her to eat dinner? I'm so hungry I could eat a whole deer by myself." She cocked her head to the side when Stiles flashed her a look. "It's not okay to be hungry?"

Stiles wrapped an arm around Malia's shoulders, "This is a sensitive situation. Remember how we talked about showing compassion?" Stiles looked up and caught Peter's murderous gaze. Nervously he inched away from Malia, placing his hands in his lap and lacing his fingers tightly.

The sight of Stiles and Malia burned a hole in Peter's gut. Malia clearly noticed that Stiles moved away from her because Peter was putting on his very best angry father face…so she snuggled closer to Stiles, her head resting on his shoulder. Letting out a low growl, Peter stepped forward. His movements were halted by Derek clasping his shoulder and holding tight. Claws erupted from Peter's fingertips as he turned, snarling. Derek's eyes were blue and his fangs glimmered in the low light of the bedroom. The scent of violence rose as Derek and Peter circled each other. Malia stood, ready to join the fray, but Stiles gripped her wrist and tugged her back.

The thunderous tone of the doorbell broke the spell. Peter stood up straighter. Derek stepped back. "I'll get it!" Malia announced, pulling Stiles with her as she trotted toward the door. They were almost certainly saved by the bell…

Now that they were alone, Derek folded his arms, "I know you're on edge but you need to cool it!" He exhaled sharply, "You're worried about Lydia. We all are…but picking fights won't do anyone any good. Malia was right, we all need something to eat and you need to take a deep breath." Derek's angry expression softened slightly as he moved toward Peter again, "As for Stiles, if you try and pull them apart they're only going to cling tighter to each other. Has the past really taught you nothing?"

Peter was quiet for a long moment. He sighed as he gazed over at Lydia; she looked so small and fragile beneath the cream colored duvet. Derek's points were valid. Peter hadn't eaten anything today and it was doing nothing to help his mood. As for Stiles and Malia, Peter would never be a fan of their relationship…but Stiles clearly cared for Malia deeply. Stiles was patient and kind, even though Malia could be wild and impulsive at times. Peter wanted to protect his daughter from any and all heartache, especially the kind that would come from falling in love with a spastic human boy who was forever putting himself in danger. Of course, Peter would admit none of that. He was almost relieved when Owen's whimpering cries reached his ears…

"Perfect timing," Derek snarked sarcastically. Peter padded into the nursery to check on Owen and Derek headed downstairs. The scent of Chinese food mingled with Deucalion's unique musk. Malia and Stiles were sitting on the opposite side of the kitchen, ignoring the alpha werewolf's presence. Derek remained stoic and stone-faced, "I guess nobody told you the party was off…"

"Malia just informed me that Lydia's mother was murdered. I was unaware." Deucalion cleared his throat. "I understand this is not the best of circumstances but I would really like to spend time with my son."

"He brought food," Malia piped up, speaking through a mouthful of chicken. "He can stay."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Deucalion grinned. Peter wasn't going to argue with Malia. Derek shrugged, "Make yourself at home then. Owen just woke up from his nap. I'm sure he and Peter will be down soon."

As if on cue, Peter descended the stairs with Owen in his arms. Peter groaned softly at the sight of Deucalion perched awkwardly on a kitchen chair. In the calamity of the last few hours, he'd forgotten to disinvite Deucalion to the world's most awkward dinner party."I am in no mood for fighting. Here…" Peter stalked over to Deucalion and, despite his annoyance, placed Owen into Deucalion's arms gently while he went to make up a bottle.

Deucalion wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He thanked Peter silently, taking the proffered bottle when it was handed to him. Owen's tiny fist wrapped tight around Deucalion's soft sweater as he hungrily ate his supper. Deucalion gazed up at the family, taking in the sight of them as they orbited around each other listlessly. Malia kept Stiles behind her at all times, ever vigilant in case someone tried to mess with her boyfriend. Derek was sitting on the couch in the den off the kitchen, watching Peter pace like a caged animal. It was no secret that Lydia was the glue that kept them all functioning. And right now, the queen was nowhere to be found.

"I still think we should call Scott…" Derek folded his arms.

"And I told you, we don't need the boy wonder," Peter scoffed. "If it's an alpha we need, there's one sitting in my kitchen."

Deucalion stood, balancing Owen in his arms. His expression darkened with concern. "Has Lydia taken ill?"

Peter's fist tightened angrily. He was silent a moment, watching Deucalion and Owen standing in the doorway to the den. Already it burned in his soul that Deucalion was trying to take Owen away from him but adding in the fact that he possessed a power that could possibly heal Lydia, Peter was skating on the razor's edge. Without Lydia to temper him, his rage was growing and it was only a matter of time before he snapped.

Malia trotted into the living room, plopping down beside Peter. "After Lydia found out about her mother, she passed out and hasn't woken up since." Peter's posture was tensed and his cobalt eyes sparked with angry fire. Malia knew that her role in this was to diffuse the situation. "I will finish feeding Owen and you can go fix Lydia."

Hesitantly, Deucalion settled Owen in Malia's arms. Silently, he turned to Peter, "I owe you a great debt. Not only for caring for Owen in my absence but also for allowing me to have contact with him even though you are in no way obligated to. The very least I can do is determine if I can help Lydia." Deucalion could count on one hand the people he respected and Lydia ranked at the top of that list. He was well aware that Peter would never have allowed visitation if Lydia hadn't commanded it. On any given day, he'd let all of them rot but for Owen's sake; he'd do anything at all to make this work. "I will do everything in my power—"

"Enough with the speeches," Peter growled. "I'll take you to her."Leading Deucalion upstairs, Peter opened the door to the guest room. Lydia had not moved a muscle since he left her side; her strawberry blonde hair fanned out over the pillow as she slumbered. Her body was ethereally pale, as if all the blood had been leeched from her. "I tried to take her pain but she does not appear to be in any, at least physically. We tried smelling salts, music, and Malia poked her for nearly an hour. There's nothing left to be done…"

Deucalion padded toward the bed and grasped Lydia's wrist. He hissed at the unexpected temperature of her skin, "Her hands are like ice."

Peter brushed past him, pressing a hand to Lydia's cheek. Despite being wrapped up in a blanket, her whole body was cool to the touch. "She wasn't this cold before." Panic clawed at him as he stared hard at Deucalion, "Do whatever you have to. I don't care what it takes!" He was starting to understand how Lydia felt this morning…he couldn't lose Owen and Lydia too, he couldn't survive it.

Pushing up the sleeves of his sweater, Deucalion sat down on the bed. "Stand back…" His eyes flashed red with power as he leaned over the bed. This would most certainly be incredibly painful and dangerous but Deucalion knew what he had to do… for all their sakes.

"Lydia!"

The sharp voice wrenched Lydia out of a trance as she turned a little too quickly and her vision blurred. "Mom?" Lydia called, her voice shaky and weak. Shivering against the cold, Lydia rubbed the gooseflesh that covered her skin. She exhaled sharply, her breath coming out as a soft white cloud as she headed toward the clearing.

Beacon Hills slumbered silently below her. Lydia recognized her surroundings instantly. Lookout Point was one of her favorite places to map the stars; it was also one of Jackson's favorite places to make out. Snow crunched beneath her bare feet as she padded toward the darkness of the forest. Thick, fat flakes fell around her as she squinted, her eyes glassy with frozen, unshed tears. As she drew closer, there was a murmuring of voices just out of reach. "Mom?" Lydia called again.

A loud roll of thunder rocked the earth and Lydia nearly pitched over. She grasped for something, anything, and found a pair of bloody hands cinching her waist. Lydia screamed, wrenching back from the thin, willowy girl who stood in front of her.

"Don't be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you…"

"Y-you're Angela. Angela Zhou?" The serial killer's third victim was an eighteen-year-old Asian girl who had her life ahead of her. Lydia stumbled across her remains in the park, twisted and shredded. Unlike the corpse that Lydia remembered, this girl's eyes were bright and shining with emotion. "You're dead…"

"We're all dead." Angela's voice was soft and soothing. "We are running out of time…come with me."

Lydia had very little choice in the matter. She was inexplicably pulled forward toward a circle of women. They were all present: Angela Zhou, Erin Walchyk, Taryn Carlisle, Diana Moore, Kaylee Verbeek, Roberta Harris, and Natalie Martin. Tears burned in Lydia's eyes as she staggered into the center of the circle, her chest aching as she took in the horror all around her. Each of the women had been slashed and their bodies destroyed; yet they looked calm and peaceful. "Am I—"

Natalie sensed Lydia's distress and stepped forward, cupping Lydia's cheek. "No, sweetheart, you have a long life ahead of you." She let out a shaky breath, "Diana has told us that this is a part of your power. She's a banshee, like you…"

"Mom, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't know how, I didn't know if you'd believe me." Lydia wept, clinging tightly to her mother. Instead of being comforted by a warm embrace, the temperature seemed to drop even lower. Natalie's warm eyes were bright with tears as she shook her head, eager to assuage Lydia's fears and regrets when an anxious voice broke into their tender moment.

"I'm sorry but there is no time," Diana cut in, harshly. "Lydia, we are stuck between worlds until the killer is dead. She has disrupted the balance. In death I finally understand we—as banshees— are gatekeepers between Elysium and Hades. I was frequently visited by spirits that would lead me to the dead. I would wake up in strange places, terrified, unsure as to how I even came to be in this place. I know now that I was being drawn to these souls to help them pass into the afterlife. You, too, have experienced this I am sure."

Lydia shivered harder and nodded numbly, allowing Diana to continue her explanation. "This killer was not always so cruel. She was once a fine wife and mother, adored and loved by all who knew her. It was truly unfair when her brain began to atrophy and die, leaving her a shell of herself. She was moments from death when a woman offered to heal her, with one condition. She swore to leave her husband and son behind…" Diana faltered. "The werewolf bite seemed to work, at least it did at first. Yet her mind began to fray around the edges. For years she was able to control her impulses and her rage but time is not on her side. Her memories of the present are almost all gone. All she can remember is Beacon Hills, regret, and the urge to kill. She wants it to end, Lydia…every time she kills a mother, she is in essence killing herself. Except the agony cannot stop until she is resting in the ground. It cannot end for any of us…"

The emotion swirling inside Lydia was so overwhelming that she felt she would vomit. Her stomach churned and her head ached as she drew in a ragged breath. "We're doing everything we can to find her. I'm trying so hard to harness my power. I-I just don't know how…"

Diana stepped forward, her ghastly face softened with a smile. "I wish I could tell you all the secrets. If only we had the time…" An icy wind was ripping through the trees, blowing Lydia's brittle body as if she were one of the snowflakes dancing in the air. "Focus on her name, on her rage, and you will be able to track her."

"Wait! I don't know her name," Lydia pressed. The snow was falling so heavily around her now that she could hardly see. The cold was too much for her to bear now and she had gone completely numb. "Tell me, please. I need to find her. I need to end this once and for all."

"Claudia." Diana replied, "The killer's name is Claudia." The world around them was falling, pulling Lydia further away from the fold. She had overstayed her welcome and if she did not leave soon, she would be trapped among these women forever. "We've run out of time, Lydia. You have to go back!"

Lydia whimpered, "I don't know how!"

Roberta Harris broke from her place in the circle and stepped forward. Her warm, calming presence seemed to shelter Lydia from the elements for a moment. Leaning in, she whispered in Lydia's ear with a voice so soft and melodious that Lydia almost wept.

Lydia hugged Roberta tight, her eyes sparkling with unshed years, "I promise, Roberta. I swear it on my life…"

A light pierced though the storm raging around her and Lydia turn and ran toward it, her bare feet cut against the icy blanket of snow beneath. The murmurs of voices and the sound of Owen's plaintive cries dragged her closer to life beyond the veil. Reaching out, she leapt and moments later found herself crumpled on the floor, dry heaving so violently that she feared she would break in half.

"Lydia!" Peter's voice was hoarse from screaming her name. Deucalion was limp and weak on the bed, having expended massive energy pulling her back. At one point, Lydia's heart had stopped and Peter thought he had lost her for good. Slowly her body was warming, from the exertion of her illness and the heat of his body radiating against hers. "Lydia, please…"

"I'm okay," Lydia replied weakly. "I was in a strange place, stuck between worlds. And it was so very cold…" Peter's hands wrapped around hers and she was grateful. The iciness of her fingers was almost painful. "They were there. All of them were there!"

Peter furrowed his brow in confusion, "Who, Lydia…who was there?"

"My mother, Diana, Erin, Kaylee, Angela, Taryn…Roberta…" Lydia's eyes were bloodshot and damp with tears. She watched as Deucalion's muscles clenched painfully at the sound of Roberta's name.

Peter lifted Lydia from the floor and carefully rested her against the bed. "They are stuck between worlds until balance is restored. I need to find the killer and I need to kill her before the rest of them can move on." She swallowed. "I think I know how to find her. Diana said once I knew her name I could find her." Leaning back in bed, she let out a shaky breath, "I need Owen. Please…"

Gingerly, Peter stroked Lydia's cheek to calm her. Malia, Stiles, and Derek—who had been drawn by the commotion—stayed by the doorway. Peter stepped forward and took the child from Malia, settling the baby in Lydia's arms. Immediately he watched the color return to Lydia's cheeks as Owen's angry screams dissipated into soft whimpers and then he fell asleep, curled against her chest.

"Owen brought me back," Lydia murmured softly, rubbing the infant's back as he breathed against her. Smoothing his wispy blonde hair, she sighed, "It was Roberta who told me to focus on the cries of my child and that he would pull me home…" Her gaze wandered to where Deucalion was sitting, head cradled in his hands. There were a few things more Roberta wanted Lydia to tell Deucalion but now was not the time. "The killer is going to strike again soon and we need to find her."

"You said you needed to know her name…we still don't know." This time, Stiles was the one who spoke. "My dad has been working tirelessly but no luck yet."

Lydia nodded, "I know her name. It's Claudia…"

"Claudia?" Stiles raised an eyebrow, his throat suddenly becoming dry. "That was my mother's name." Deafening silence emanated through the room as he watched Lydia's face crumple and fall. "Wait…what are you saying, Lydia? My mother is dead!"

Holding Owen closer to her chest, Lydia didn't realize she needed Peter until his arm wrapped around her waist. "Stiles, I'm sorry…"

Stiles felt panic begin to claw at his chest, "It can't be. I was there when she died. The doctor came in and…I…"

Malia's face was twisted into a frown. She reached out to comfort Stiles but he wrenched away from her. The pain in her expression was palpable…it made Peter grit his teeth. "Stiles—"

"No!" Stiles's thundering footsteps clomped down the stairs and a minute later, his jeep took off recklessly into the night. His departure left a massive void in the room.

Derek grabbed Malia as she turned to chase him, "Come on, we'll follow at a safe distance." He peered over at Lydia. "You're absolutely sure about this? You know his mother is the one wasting mothers all over town?"

Lydia nodded sadly, holding the baby tighter against her body. "Please make sure he's okay, Derek," She begged. Although Derek didn't say a word, Lydia knew he would. Malia would help too. They were gone quickly, leaving Peter and Deucalion alone with her and Owen. She gazed between them, "I am going to find this killer and when I do, I'm going to need your help; both of you." She swallowed hard. "I need to be the one to kill her and carry her soul to the other side."

Deucalion scoffed, "And why on earth do you think I will help you? I am here for Owen and nothing more." He shook his head, "I played nice. I brought you back from the brink, Lydia, but do not mistake my act of charity for caring whether you live or die. I am here for my son, only."

Peter's expression turned murderous but Lydia reached out an arm to soothe him. "I need some water, please…" Lydia urged and Peter balked. "Trust me, Peter!" She pressed, "Five minutes…"

Although his heart was hammering in his chest, Peter did as Lydia asked. It took every ounce of strength he had to walk out of the room and close the door behind him. Deucalion turned, his face blank. "There is nothing you can say to change my mind…"

"I'm not going to say anything," Lydia replied softly. "I would rather let Roberta speak. You see, she stole a few seconds with me and I made her a promise." She licked her lips. "I made her a promise that I would raise Owen as my son. I—"

"Stop right there." Deucalion snarled, cutting her off. "I have been all too willing to play along for a chance to spend time with my son but I will not accept this." He snapped. "He is my blood, Lydia! You are young and stupid."

Slipping from the bed, Lydia stood on shaky legs. "Deucalion, do you remember Paris?" She watched the color drain from his face. "Do you remember what you said? How you cried?"

"No…" Deucalion glowered, his fists tightening painfully.

"Roberta asked you if you wished to be a father, Deucalion." Lydia cradled Owen closer to her chest. "Do you remember what you said?" She repeated.

"I told her I would do anything for my line to end with me. But I didn't know then what I know now!" His voice was strained and tight with emotion. "I didn't know what having a son would mean to me." Owen was the only part of Roberta he had left.

Lydia closed the distance between them, her hand resting on his shoulder. "When she touched me, I communicated with her on a deep level, Deucalion. Roberta wanted you to know that she loved you deeply. She could not bear to betray you but she also wanted a child more than anything in the world. She ran from you only to keep you from feeling obligated."

Hot tears burned down Deucalion's cheeks as he gripped Lydia tightly. "How could she think that I wouldn't want her and the child? The way I grew up, I…"

"I know," Lydia murmured. In the stark cold wasteland where she had been stuck, everything was hauntingly clear while remaining shrouded in mystery. It was the oddest experience of her life. "I will never keep you from Owen, Deucalion. You're his father, no one can take that from you…but if this is going to work, we—all of us—need to start acting like a family."

Gazing at Lydia and Owen, Deucalion cleared his throat, "Family?"

"Yes. Derek, Malia, Stiles, Peter, Owen, you and me, we're a family whether we like it or not. It's going to take all of us to take this killer down. It's also going to take all of us to raise Owen the right way." Lydia licked her lips, "I want to honor Roberta's wishes. I want Owen to have the kind of family he deserves. Don't you want that for your son, Deucalion?"

There was a long beat of silence before Deucalion dragged in a breath. He wasn't quite sure that tossing in his lot with the Hale clan was the best thing but Lydia knew things she could never have known except for hearing it from Roberta herself. Lydia was a banshee, straddling the line between the living and the dead. "Was she in any pain?" His voice was so soft that he wasn't sure she'd hear.

"No," Lydia soothed. "There's no pain, no suffering…she just wants to cross over." She smiled softly. "In order to do that, this killer needs to die and to take her rightful place in the afterlife." Squeezing Deucalion's shoulder gently, she smiled, "If for no other reason, you can find comfort in knowing you helped grant her peace in Elysium."

That settled it. Deucalion squared his shoulders. "Then I accept…" He reached out and took Owen from Lydia. "You are still very weak."The least he could do was get Lydia the basic necessities. Opening up the door, he was unsurprised to see Peter standing there earnestly. "The least you can do make sure your mate rests. I will change Owen and get him ready for bed."

Peter nodded silently. He set about tidying up the room while she picked at a stray string on her sweater. "You're awfully quiet," Lydia peered at him. "Today must have been difficult for you."

"You scared the hell out of me!" His face turned ashen as he turned to her, "I thought you were dying. You were so cold and frail. Seeing you like that, I couldn't stand it, Lydia." He closed the distance between them, cradling her face in his hands. He realized that without Lydia, his life was gray and drab. She illuminated his soul. Without her calming hand, he would go back to his self-destructive ways and end up dead again or worse, the soulless beast he was before Lydia tamed him. "I can't let you go again." Lydia smiled at him so sweetly that he swelled with emotion.

Lydia stood on her tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to Peter's lips. "You won't have to…" She murmured against his ear. "Take me to bed." There was no hesitation in his movements. He swept her into his arms and carried her to his bed…their bed. Reaching for him, she kissed him softly. Cuddling into him, she closed her eyes. As he wrapped around her, Lydia found peace. Finding Claudia and taking her down would sap all of her strength…so for now, she had to absorb as much as she could from Peter. Within moments, Lydia's eyes fluttered closed and she slept peacefully once more.

I am so sorry this chapter took so long. Muse is such a fickle friend! I hope that this extra long chapter makes you feel a little better. Please keep reviewing, your reviews are what gets me through these tough times. Twitter encouragement and Tumbr likes/reblogs are super helpful too! I am writing this for all of you so please let me know what you think!

HUGE shoutout to my amazing beta JustVisiting80 who was a beast and got this to me lightning fast. She is the Bellarke master, seriously if you're a 100 fan (which I have no idea why you wouldn't be, it is AWESOME) her work is the bomb. And she's on the cusp of finish yet another amazing fanfic. Check her out!

Keep reading and reviewing if you want more!

Love,

Marina