A cold sweat had broken out over her skin, leaving her clammy and shivering. In this dream she had come home after a late night at work with a bag full of takeout. Resting her stethoscope on the dashboard, she made sure to lock her car before she stepped out of the beat up sedan. Something didn't quite feel right as she unlocked the front door and slipped inside. While she dumped Chinese food onto a plate, a shadow crept across her back—

The piercing scream of a hungry child wrenched Lydia out of her garish nightmare. Though she was half-awake, she threw off the comforter and hurried to Owen's side. At least, she would have if she hadn't barreled into Peter on the way. The sudden sharpness of the contact made her gasp and she reached for him. Peter's arms grabbed her and held her tightly, keeping both of them from pitching over. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his back, her nails biting gently into his bare shoulders as she fought to remain upright. In the haze of her sleepiness, her body reacted primally to his. Heat swirled and pooled in the core of her before she could tamp it down. If not for Owen's plaintive cries, Lydia wasn't sure that she could have stepped back…

Peter could hardly breathe at how wicked Lydia Martin felt pressed against him. He was forced to shift slightly so she wouldn't feel the evidence of his arousal for her. She was rumpled and flushed from sleep yet so perfectly beautiful that his chest ached with it. Peter was grateful that she found the strength to pull away because he wasn't sure that he had the stomach for it. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he swallowed hard, "I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who knocked into you," Lydia's voice was hoarse with sleep. She was grateful it was dark in the room and he couldn't see how flushed she was. Gingerly, she lifted Owen from his makeshift crib, kissing his cherubic cheek as she did so. Peter's alarm clock blearily informed her that it was shortly after four in the morning. The waning moonlight would soon give away to hazy dawn sunshine.

Peter needed a moment to rein in his baser instincts. "I'm going to run downstairs and make up a bottle." He may as well have fled. Being this close to Lydia and knowing that he couldn't touch her was the worst kind of torment. He was sure that he must have imagined the scent of arousal that filled the air. If he really was hallucinating, it was better for all of them if he stepped away for a moment.

Lydia changed Owen's diaper with a heavy sigh. How could one little person poop so much? She had to change his outfit again and realized this was the last one that was clean. Making a mental note to do laundry tomorrow, Lydia also knew Owen was going to need some warmer clothing. A chill had crept over the house during the night and Lydia found herself shivering. Now that his diaper was clean and his clothes changed, Lydia swaddled him in a blanket and cradled him close. She sat on the edge of Peter's bed, immediately comforted by the warm spot where Peter had recently been sleeping. Without thinking, she slipped beneath the covers and tugged them over her legs. "That's better…" She murmured aloud, rubbing Owen's back gently.

When Peter returned a few minutes later, he felt his chest tighten at the sight of Lydia snuggled in bed with the babe. He'd never seen anything more beautiful in his life. Fatherhood was not something Peter was necessarily used to or prepared for. Talia had stolen the memory of Malia's birth and Peter had not been privy to her life growing up. Guilt gnawed at him every time he thought about Malia; he could only fathom what she must have suffered. Her life would've been so different had he only known of her existence. Temporary guardian or not, Peter already vowed that he'd never let Owen suffer the same fate. The moment Lydia shifted, Peter pressed a hand to her shoulder, "Stay. It's alright." Peter carefully arranged a pillow so Owen wouldn't put too much strain on Lydia's shoulders. As soon as she offered the baby his bottle, he latched on hungrily. Peter caught the yawn she stifled and a frown marred his features, "I could have managed on my own, Lydia."

"That wouldn't be fair," Lydia replied matter-of-factly. Owen was happy as could be, unperturbed by the dreadfully early hour. Peter laid down on the other side of the bed, his legs crossed at the ankle. The scene was oddly domestic, her feeding the baby while he kept her company…she had to brush those thoughts aside for the moment. "There's going to be another murder…"

Peter raised an eyebrow at her. "Where?"

Shaking her head, Lydia let out a heavy breath. "I'm not sure. I was in a car and there was a bag of Chinese takeout. I couldn't see her face but there was something familiar about her. I know that she was coming home from work. At first everything seemed normal but when she stepped into the kitchen there was a shadow and—" Lydia looked up suddenly, "What are you doing?"

"Lydia, Melissa McCall works the night shift." Peter was already out of bed with his cell phone in hand.

Lydia held Owen a bit tighter, "My phone is in the guest room. Call Stiles, he'll get the Sheriff out of bed." Her heart kicked up as Peter dashed into the other room and came back with her phone. Stiles would pick up immediately if he saw it was her.

Except it wasn't Stiles who picked up the phone. Peter's face darkened dangerously, "Malia, get your boyfriend on the phone now. I'd like to speak with him before I kill him." Anger burned in his gut at the thought of his daughter sleeping with the Sheriff's son. Dragging a hand over his face, he waited while Malia dragged Stiles from the bed and flipped him onto the floor. Moments later, Stiles' sleepy voice answered. "Lydia has had another vision of a murder and I am afraid that it might be Melissa McCall." Peter let out a low growl, "After you make sure that Scott's mother is safe, I think it's time we sat down to discuss your relationship with my daughter."

"Peter!" Lydia chastised. Owen was fussing at the tension in the room despite the fact that Lydia was gently rubbing his back. She frowned, "Was that entirely necessary?"

"Is it entirely necessary that hyperactive weasel defiles my daughter!?" Peter snarled. "Malia's not like other girls. She doesn't understand the ways of the world. I don't like it, Lydia!"

"Malia is stronger than you think," Lydia stood carefully, rocking Owen gently to soothe him. "I think if you saw them together you would understand. Stiles isn't pressuring her, Peter…if anything, it's the other way around."

Peter gritted his teeth, "Is that meant to make me feel better, Lydia? My daughter is interested in that wimpy human! When she chooses a mate, after she turns thirty, he should be able to protect her!"

Lydia scoffed, "So you think that women need to be taken care of? You think that Malia is some simpering little girl who is going to wait around for a man to come and lock her up in a tower to keep her safe?" She took a step toward him, "Is that what you think about me?" Stabbing her finger against his chest, she glared harder, "Choose your words very wisely, Peter Hale…they could be your last."

"Lydia," Peter opened his mouth several times to answer but eventually he decided it was safer to let it rest. Lydia was clearly exhausted and their fighting was agitating the baby. "It's almost five in the morning and you have school tomorrow. You should get some rest, I'll put Owen back to bed."

"Oh no, you're not getting out of it that—OW!" Lydia gasped as Owen's itty bitty hand slashed against her chest as he began to screech again. Lydia stared incredulously at the tiny, razor-sharp claws adorning the child's hands. His heavy-lidded eyes burned yellow, illuminated even in the darkness of the room. "Peter—"

Peter plucked Owen from Lydia's arms before he could inflict any more damage. It wasn't that Lydia was in any imminent danger but Peter didn't want Lydia to experience any more pain. "There's a towel in the bathroom…" He bit back a curse at the look of shock on her face. "I'll explain after you clean up."

Blood seeped from the wounds, staining the shirt Lydia had borrowed from Peter. Hurrying into the other room, Lydia flicked the switch on and groaned; the light was a harsh contrast against the darkened bedroom. There were five perfect gashes across her collarbone. None of them were particularly deep but they stung as she washed them, placing a towel to sop up the blood. Grabbing another t-shirt, she pulled it on over her head. Peter's soft, masculine scent enveloped her; it was clear he had worn this shirt before her. Despite the tenderness she felt for the two boys waiting for her in the other room, fury burned in her chest.

Grabbing baby socks from the pack, Peter doubled them up as he placed them over Owen's hands. It wouldn't do to have the infant accidentally scratch himself, even if he could heal. While Lydia cleaned up, he settled Owen in the makeshift crib. Softly he sang a lullaby that Derek and Cora had adored growing up. "Hushabye, don't you cry…go to sleep my little baby. When you wake you shall have, all the pretty little horses…"

All the anger Lydia was prepared to unleash upon Peter died away when his soft, rumbling voice reached her ears. She leaned in the doorway with her eyes closed tight and just listened. Owen's whimpering weakened with each verse until Lydia couldn't hear it anymore. Tiptoeing into the room again, Lydia slipped her hand into Peter's. He didn't resist her as she led them downstairs into the living room. "Do you want to explain what that was?" She shivered against the coolness in the house and rubbed her arms.

Peter grabbed a grey chenille throw from the back of the couch and rested it over her shoulders. "Owen is a born werewolf…" He explained softly. "I wasn't sure at first but I saw his eyes tonight. Roberta Harris wasn't a werewolf which means that whoever Owen's father is, he's one."

"I thought that those of you who are born werewolves don't wolf out until they start puberty. That's how it was for Derek and Malia…" Lydia probed. "Is something wrong with him, Peter?" Fear coursed through her, "We have to find some way to help him."

"There's nothing wrong with him," Peter soothed, leading Lydia over to the couch. He settled beside her, smiling gently, "Certain werewolf traits manifest themselves from birth. Popping claws, especially in newborns, is very common. He was just upset that we were fighting. I promise you, he's the picture of health." Peter rubbed her back gently to soothe her, "Are you alright?"

Lydia felt a rush of relief flow through her, "Thank goodness." If Owen were sick or hurt, she would have been devastated. Lydia tugged the blanket tighter around herself. "I'm fine, it's just a scratch. I've had worse." Going to bed after everything that had happened tonight seemed impossible. She'd have to run home to shower and change before school anyway. "Do you have any coffee?"

"Is the Pope Catholic?" Peter countered, smirking handsomely. Lydia rolled her eyes and he chuckled. "I'll make some," He offered and that earned him a smile. At least she hadn't torn his head off…metaphorically, of course.

While Peter fumbled with the coffee pot, Lydia snuck upstairs to grab her phone and to change back into yesterday's clothes. She noticed there were several missed calls and texts from Stiles. Stepping into the kitchen, Lydia's expression darkened as she listened to the messages. "The killer did go after Melissa last night, you were right…" Lydia set her phone down on the counter, "Thankfully, the Sheriff got there in time. Melissa ended up with a pretty deep gash in her abdomen but she should make a full recovery."

Peter's entire body tensed, "Did they catch her? The serial killer?"

"No," Lydia sighed, "But once Melissa wakes up, they are hopeful she can tell us something about her." Dragging a hand through her strawberry blonde hair, Lydia gratefully accepted a piping hot cup of French roast from Peter. He'd placed cream and sugar on the counter and she helped herself to both before taking a sip. It was bliss. "I'll sleep easier then this killer is put down for good."

"You can say that again," Peter took a long sip of his black coffee. "You should take pride in the fact that you were able to synthesize the details from your nightmare to save someone tonight."

Lydia looked up suddenly, "I didn't, Peter…you did." She chewed on her bottom lip, "I was so stuck in the details that I couldn't see the big picture." Wrapping her hands around the warmth of the cup, Lydia exhaled sharply, "I should be better at controlling this by now, right?"

Peter was silent for a moment. "There's nothing set in stone when it comes to the supernatural, Lydia. Banshees are a creature unto their own. Your kind has been around for millennia and still there is so little we know." All too many banshees became overwhelmed by their power. Eichen House was full of them; Meredith was just the very tip of the iceberg…but that was a conversation for another day. "For now, let's get through this and then I'll see what I can do to help you control your powers."

"Why would you do that?" Lydia asked, incredulously.

"Isn't it obvious?" Peter softened his gaze. Lydia was the object of his affection and he was determined to win her. Yet it ran deeper than that. Peter respected everything Lydia stood for and he'd seen a side to her tonight he couldn't ignore. "I owe you for everything that you've done for Owen. He's lucky that he has you to fight for him…"

"Someone has to…" Lydia replied softly. "His mother was murdered last night and we have no idea who his father is." She finished the last few sips of her coffee, shoulders sagging slightly. "I'm not sure I should even go to school today. What if Owen needs me?"

Chuckling softly, Peter shook his head, "Lydia, go to school, fill your head with knowledge, and we'll be here when you get back." He ignored her glare, "In just a few short months, you'll be graduating. Don't let yourself get behind because you're worried I can't care for Owen. I practically raised Derek and Cora myself…"

Lydia narrowed her eyes, unsure if that was comforting. Derek and Cora were alive, sure, but they weren't the most well-adjusted werewolves she knew. Owen would need her, now more than ever. "I know you're getting the baby furniture today but make sure you pick up some warmer clothes for Owen. I used the last onesie this morning. His diaper leaked overnight…" She bit her lip, "You'll have to start the laundry. Don't put him in any of the new onesies you bought until they've been washed, alright?" Lydia needed to make sure all her bases were covered before she headed out. "And if the social worker shows up I want you to call me immediately. You have a habit of getting yourself into trouble…"

"Yes, dearest," Peter smirked at her. "I swear that the world will still be on its axis when you return. It's only a few hours, Lydia." Opening up the cabinet, he pulled out a travel mug and poured the rest of the coffee into it. He handed it over to her, complete with cream and sugar. "Go home, take a shower, and don't worry. Owen and I will be fine."

The sky was beginning to lighten on the horizon and Lydia knew it was time to go. It was only very reluctantly that she accepted the coffee and grabbed her bag. Peter had placed the keys to the Prius on top of it. Pausing for a moment in the doorway, Lydia gathered her strength. "I'll be back by four…"

"We'll be waiting," Peter smiled tenderly. He took no pleasure in how conflicted Lydia looked yet there was a secret place inside of him that welcomed her reluctance. She wanted to be here…with him. It was more than he could ever have hoped for. "Try to have a good day, sweetheart."

Lydia nodded sadly before forcing her feet to move. Trudging to the car, she took another sip of her coffee. Peter had put a garage door opener in there for her and despite how awful it felt to be leaving, she smiled. Things would be alright…they would have to be. For now, all she could do was have faith.

You guys are amazing! Your reviews and comments have really fueled my muse and look at this shiny new chapter, just for you! Keep reviewing, shoutout on Twitter (MarinaBlack99) or Tumblr (link in my profile). I love it! The more feedback I get, the more I want to write and the faster you'll get updates. I have some big, big things planned for this chapter.

HUGE shoutout to my Beta JustVisiting80 who is the best EVER. She is such a talented writer and is the best internet wifey ever. She supports me when things are going to hell in a handbasket. Go check out her writing for Star Crossed and the 100.

Happy Friday!

-Marina