Disclaimer: "Teen Wolf" has never belonged to me, doesn't belong to me and will never belong to me.
She was on the field, again and again. She was looking for him. And then the floodlights went on one after another and that scary man was approaching her.
"Lydia! Lydia! Run!" she knew it ought to be another person yelling these words. But here, in universe with only one dream which repeated itself, it was his voice.
Baring his teeth, the man came closer. The time seemed to slow down. Something darted past her and Lydia saw Jackson. It was he she had been looking for. He turned towards her and she stepped back. Whittemore had the same sharp teeth and shining bright yellow eyes as the man had.
"Run!" he grumbled and attacked the werewolf. The men fell on the ground, beating each other; Jackson howled because of pain – the lycanthrope literally tore him apart. Long claws scratched his back, and the white shirt instantly turned red.
"Jackson…" she whispered. Her legs gave way and she fell down. The whole body trembled and there were tears in her eyes. She had no power to move or to run away.
Two werewolves were fighting next to her. The sound of material tearing, groans of pain, bestial roar and the sounds of blows were deafening.
She saw someone little and delicate approaching her. Children shouldn't be where there is danger.
But the boy came up to her and stood there for a few minutes, watching the fight. Then he smiled and squatted down next to her.
"Don't be afraid, mom. Daddy will protect us." He put his palm down on her abdomen and reassuringly smiled. "We will be OK."
Before the child disappeared into the air, she noticed flashes of yellow in his eyes and freckles on his face.
The dream was over and started again.