Chapter 1:

I held the post card in my hands, my fingers tracing the picture of the Big Ben clock tower on it. It was stamped from three months ago, it must have gotten lost in the mail as it had only arrived today.

When I had gotten home from work I picked it up with the rest of my mail, not thinking anything of it until I turned it over and saw that handwriting I had seen so often before. The smooth strokes and beautiful cursive. So perfect, just like she was. My eyes drifted to the bottom of the page where she had signed her name with an 'I love you' and small x's and o's. But she didn't. Not enough anyways. Not enough to choose me over them.

Just seeing her name next to the declaration of love made me sit down on my bed. I didn't want to read what she had said but I couldn't help myself as my eyes scanned the card, soaking in every word.

Dear Stiles,

I wish so much that you were here. You would love England. There's so much history, both in the natural sense and the supernatural sense. I know we talked most days and we've probably talked all week since I've sent this, so I guess there's nothing else to put in there that I wouldn't have already told you by now. I still find it silly you asked me to send you a post card from every place I go to when phones exist now. I guess though when I come home we will have a nice collection of where I have been and the adventures I've had. I only wish you'd been here to have them with me. Anyways, here is your stop over from England.

I love you,

Lydia xoxo

She had sent this at the beginning of July, it was now October. I ran my finger over the date, not 2 weeks after she had sent this had I received that bloody phone call. The one from her to tell me it was over. To tell me she had been feeling this way for a while now and was just stuck in the motions and needed to break out. That we had grown apart, were living separate lives.

I remembered how I pleaded with her that we didn't need to be. That she could come home and live a life with me. I had a normal job and an apartment, she could come home to me. She told me it would never work because of what she was, a banshee, that the supernatural would follow her and that she liked being in that world.

So, I told her I'd come to her. I'd had more than enough experience with the supernatural over my lifetime, that I could come to her. She said that wouldn't work either, that I wasn't supernatural, and I didn't have to be in that world. That she wasn't going to be selfish enough to risk my life to be together. She never gave the choice to risk my own life to be with her. She gave me those lame 'still be friends' and 'I still love you I'm just not in love with you' excuses, and then she hung up and that was that.

She wouldn't return my calls or texts and eventually I just stopped reaching out. Scott had told me she was too heartbroken to talk to me at the moment and she had to heal first. That just made me angry, I was the one who had been dumped, I was the one who had been left.

The last week or so I really felt like I was starting to feel better, like I was starting to move on. Now this post card had arrived on my door step and it hurt like it had just happened yesterday.

I ran my fingers through my hair as I loved down at my feet. From under the bed I could see my old baseball bat poking out. And by old I meant the new one I had to get after Mason and Liam got my old bat ruined that I had left them.

I hadn't used this bat in a long time. At first when Scott wanted to gather more supernatural people for the fight against Monroe and her followers, I was all for it. Eventually though life started to get in the way.

I completed my training a while ago and then had to decide whether I wanted to put in more years of my life into the FBI academy, including years of training and getting a relevant degree just for starters.

The pressure of what to do with my life plus all this other stuff going on with Scott and the supernatural, I had to take a break. To figure out what I needed.

So I went away for a week, just me and my jeep. Which only broke down twice during that week. Just drove and drove and stayed in crappy hotels and then drove some more until I was ready to turn back around and come back.

I had realised that while I had always wanted to be in law enforcement and solving cases, I didn't particularly want to be an FBI agent. That I had done that to get higher up, supernatural cases, and that this wasn't exactly what I wanted.

I decided I wanted to be a homicide detective. So here I am, 2 weeks after I had graduated from a Bachelor of Forensic Science and law, and one week into my new job as a rookie cop. I was getting closer to my goal and I was turning 23 in 6 months.

While I was still best friends with Scott and still kept in contact with everyone, it wasn't the same. I wasn't supernatural, and like how the supernatural called to them, my average human life had sucked me in.

Suddenly I remembered why I had come home in the first place. I had come into the department right in the middle of a massive hunt for a serial killer and tonight they knew where he would be.

I changed my clothes and grabbed my gear before heading out to join my own fight.