summary.
After S4, everyone's life seems okay for now, except for Lydia. Trying to learn how to control and carefully use her abilities as a Banshee, she realizes it's going to be a while to handle herself and this is just the beginning.
Two-shot.
Lydia M., Liam, Dr. Deaton
Teen Wolf.
I do not owe any characters, plot, etc. It all belongs to the mastermind behind "Teen Wolf", Jeff Davis.
It wasn't a second later when Lydia came barreling in the vet clinic from her parked car, distress and anxiety masking her body. She pushed past the doors and Dr. Deaton knew well to let her in the room where he was working in. Her eyes darted back and forth as she turned around, a slight tremble and insecurity in her words. Her knuckles turned a shade of white as she grasped her purse a little too hard.
At first, her mouth was slightly open, trying to get the words out that made her chest tighten and her mind going angry. All of the sudden, she yelled out the words she dreaded the most in the world.
"I'm a Banshee and I can't control it!"
Yes, all of that was true. She was a Banshee and still didn't have full control of her actions. It wasn't as easy as she would've thought it would be. All she did was create an ear-piercing, glass-shattering deafening scream when someone died or is about to. And everyone comes straight to the scene to do the rest of the work themselves. She can also hear voices in her head, that if told to anyone, will make her seem like a complete psycho who was placed in the wrong spot at the wrong time.
Well, not completely. Although she is able to tell herself that she did a good thing (something that had positive results and turned out to be effective for once), Lydia almost always feels like she's missing something to be sure of her usefulness in the pack. Because of this, Lydia has complained about going to pack meetings, which has earned her a slightly callous attitude from Derek some of the time. The only reason she goes is for Stiles' sake, who persistently argues that Derek scares him and that someone needs to protect his fragile, skinny self. Lydia tells him he has Scott and Malia, but he still stands on his ground. It's obvious he still feels something towards her, but she doesn't take a second glance for the moment.
There was complete silence in the room and Lydia seemed more agitated by the second. She thought about reconsidering her idea of going to Peter, but no good would be there. Just the sight of him made her feel sick, the way he had used her to bring himself back to earth and his twisted malicious smirk that she's still not used to seeing. Either way, why him anways? No, it doesn't matter to her. She just wants answers.
Lydia sighed and waved her arms about at Deaton, who is currently labeling some glass sample bottles. "...Well?"
Deaton stops for a minute before letting go of the Sharpie and a bottle. He goes to the front door and turns over the "OPEN" sign to its antonym, even though it's 4:20 and Scott would be here in less than 25.
He comes back to the room and points to a chair behind her. "There's a chair behind you, Lydia. Take a seat if you like. I assume we have important matters to be discussed?"
The strawberry-blonde nods with a bit more confidence and twirled around, only to be met with the only freshman face she knows of.
Liam Dunbar.
Lydia pursed her lips and crosses her arms over her chest, beautiful chartreuse-like eyes narrowed at his presence. "What's he doing here?"
"Waiting for Scott." He simply answers with a shrug.
"Can't you wait outside?" Time was ticking and her patience was at a low today. If she wanted answers, she was going to get them no matter how. "You know what, never mind." Lydia waved him off with a flick of her wrist and moved her seat closer to Deaton.
Deaton motions Liam to take a seat somewhere else and turns his attention to Lydia. "Please, start us off."
With a small sigh and the fidgeting of fingers, she takes over the conversation for the first part. Lydia is nervous as hell and tries to calm her self as fast as she can, knowing Scott will be arriving there soon and that there's a werewolf right behind her. She doesn't know why she has the impulse to hide this from her Alpha. Surely he would understand her problems and be a bit of a support for her, right?
"I feel like I'm missing out on something..." Lydia starts it off, sort of reluctantly. "Other than screaming and just sensing death." She stares at Deaton and hopes he has the answers she's scavenging for.
The veterinarian nods. "What do you feel that makes you think that you're missing out on something?"
Lydia stares deeply into the leather stichings and black laces of her boots that make her seem an inch taller. How can she answer such a simple question that practically revolves around her mission to learn how to control these Banshee abilities she never asked for? She could probably think a million reasons why she doesn't feel connected to anyone in the pack, but the more she thinks about it, the more it seems like it has nothing to do with right now.
"I don't know...I guess, usefulness...?" Gosh, did she hate the way she made her self sound so weak, when she's suppose to be the strong one right now. All confidence she had before, vanished.
"Was that a question or a statement?" Deaton asks, assuring that she would rethink again.
Lydia noticed the slight change in voice and furrowed her eyebrows. Her back straighten a bit as both arms rested on each side of the chair, a leg crossed over the other.
"Usefulness..." A voice now a hushed whisper.
"Is that all you feel, or is there more?"
"For now, I assume that's all-" Lydia does a double-take and rolls her eyes at Deaton, almost coming back to her old self. "Why are we even talking about this? Shouldn't we be focusing on my invisible powers or something? That is, if I have powers..."
Deaton lets out a small chuckle, then goes back to being serious as he now commences his questionnaires. "All right. I know you do not plan on staying the whole afternoon, so let me ask first-"
The Banshee nods and prepares to respond at whatever question he throws at her.
Deaton stares at her before asking, "What do you know about Banshees? Just name one thing you know about them, or all. Your choice."
Lydia freezes in her spot as she goes over the question Deaton asked her. What did she really know about them? Does she even know anything at all?
She knows she should've done her research before even coming.
Lydia almost forgot Liam was right behind her, who just picked up her unpleasant scent of embarrassment and anxiety with a touch of citrus and lavender.
"She doesn't know anything," Liam replied as his legs swung up and down from where he was perched. Lydia whirled around and shot him a glare, almost challenging him to say something else. "The scent is very empowering."
The strawberry-blonde huffed and crossed her arms. "How would you know? Remember, they still chain you up because you can't be relied on to be by your own," She showed off a smug smile. "So, in theory, we can't-well, I can't- rely on you to be telling the plain truth."
Liam jumps off the table and before he can retort anything back to her, Deaton strucks out his hand, signaling to stop before everything gets out of control.
Surprisingly, his voice was calm and focused. He looked at both teenagers and settled back into his chair. "Enough, the two of you. Lydia?"
Liam sat back on the table and glowered at the banshee, keeping his distance.
Lydia hummed and nodded. "Well, I know that they can sense death when it's about to happen or happened. They start to wail -well, scream, actually- when it happens. We can also hear...um, voices..." She trailed off, unsure of what else to say.
"Good, but that's just the beginning." The veterinarian walks over to a closet and prys open the doors, retrieving an old, wrinkled leather book which was covered in a decade-old newspaper. The book was rather dusty and big, big enough to compare its self to a textbook, by length.
Deaton flipped open the book and skipped a few pages until he stopped at a subheading which said in big, bold letters: BANSHEE PHYSIOLOGIA.
Which means Banshee Physiology in English. The bold lettering is in Latin, so Lydia can understand for the most part.
"This will tell you what you need to know about who you are, the different abilities you have -which varies-, how to gain control, etc." Deaton replies, pausing for a second so that the two teenagers (specifically Lydia) can absorb this new information. He continues. "But I'll only let you see half of it. The rest is for homework."
He turns to the next page and lets Lydia take a good a look at it, the detailed sketches and markings, with specific captions and different subheadings that tells everything there is about Banshees. The introduction was about a page full, following with the different abilities/powers and what they do, then its associations. Everything there was in the book intrigued Lydia Martin, enough to go pass the limits Deaton had given her.
In a quick, but gentle motion, he swipes the book out of her hands and places a bookmark in between the pages, saving their place until he opens the book again. Deaton looks at both teens with a small smile. "Begin," He glances at Liam. "You may also participate, Liam. It can be a good way to know who you are up against."
The beta almost rolls his eyes at his comment, but nods out of politeness. "Um, okay."
Lydia clears her throat and tries to remember what she read. "The Banshee is a feminine spirit who comes from the Otherworld, an omen of death. Almost like a messenger. It's from Irish mythology and it's said that traditionally, the Banshee derives from a woman who's been murdered or a woman who died giving birth to a child." She practically shudders at the last part, but keeps her self cool and calm.
"Traditionally," Deaton replies, sensing Lydia's slight discomfort from the last sentence and reassures her.
"Um, actually, it said that they usually are faery-woman or a ghost and that it's often of a...what she said, yeah." Liam responds rather sheepishly, knowing that he's not supposed to be answering Deaton's questions. To him, anyways.
"No, you're right. Back then, that's what many people believed Banshees were. But this is modern times, so you could've gotten the power in another way, Lydia." Deaton replied. "Do you know how?"
Lydia's mind is just somewhere else in the world as she repeats the last few words Deaton said.
Do you know how?
Her mind goes blank and several seconds later, she can memorize the voice of her grandmother, Lorraine, sobbing and pleading to Brunski that he wouldn't do anything to Ariel.
Ariel. It was the nickname Lorraine had given Lydia for her love of The Little Mermaid. Something that would be a personal connection between the two, even though it hurts her.
But rewinding even further and Lydia would be taken back to where Brunski had played a tape where Lorraine was admitting that she could hear voices, trying to convince the parapsychologists that she wasn't crazy. Unfortunately for her, she was moved to Eichen House where Brunski later killed her.
Lydia had her suspicions that her grandmother was also a Banshee like her. But her mother, she doesn't know. Lydia never heard her mutter about hearing things, and she usually acts like everything's okay and-
"Lydia?"
The strawberry-blonde snaps back into reality and looks over to Deaton, who seems concerned about her six-minute long silence.
She shakes her head and let's out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "I'm fine. I mean, it could've been Peter, but-"
"Peter doesn't exactly seem like the type of person to give you access to powers like that," The veterinarian quirks an eyebrow and continues. "But he could have open the passage of revealing them." He gives 'revealing' extra emphasis.
Lydia nods, pauses and speaks up again. "Wait, but why didn't I turn into a werewolf like him? He bit me, didn't he?"
"Yes, but apparently you were immune against the bite." Deaton replies.
"How? How was I immune to it and why?" Lydia presses the current topic even further, now deciding to get all the answers she wants. Her mind was clouded with endless questions, nagging constantly to keep asking and asking. She had a feeling she was giving the wrong impression to Liam, making him wonder if she really wanted to become a werewolf in the first place. After all, looking at what it did to Erica, Lydia probably wouldn't mind becoming a tad bit more attractive to all her fellow classmates in school. But being a Banshee was certainly even better than being a freaking werewolf with distasteful-looking claws and unnecessary extra facial lines.
"Uh, guys..." Liam cleared his throat, feeling quite out of place in the situation that's taking place. "I think we're going off topic with this..."
"Liam's right," Deaton gives an acknowledging nod towards him and glances at the clock. "And we're almost out of time here." He looks at Lydia. "That's a good question, Lydia, but I'm afraid we'll have to get to that some other time. I do believe, however, it might be family-related. Might. We still don't know, but we'll talk about that tomorrow."
The banshee nods and starts to pick up her bag from the chair. "So, I come in tomorrow after school, right? It's a Friday."
Deaton nods. "Yes, both of you come. I might need some extra assistance in planning tomorrow."
Both teenagers silently agree and don't dare to ask upon his last sentence. Lydia spares a one-second glance at Liam and almost gives in to a small smile. She might not know him that well yet, but she has a feeling that they'll have a closer connection between them. Not in a romantic way, of course, but just keeping it friendly and becoming good allies, having each other's backs. Just like her and Stiles.
Everyone knows they both share a closely kept connection, maybe even closer than what Stiles shares with Malia. And the next time Lydia calls him, it won't be because she found a dead body. He will just be the second person to know about what she can now do as a Banshee. Stiles will love her more or less. Depends.
As Lydia saunters over to her car in the parking lot, Liam catches up to her with a pen in hand. She looks over at him and waits for him to say something.
"He said to do your homework." Is all Liam said. He gives the pen to her but she waves it away dismissively.
"It ran out of ink," Lydia responded before opening the door. "And I never forget to do my homework."
This time, she does let the ends of her lips curl up in a small smile.
Lydia drives away, unknowingly passing by a familiar Alpha and leaving a slightly amused werewolf behind.
