"Lydia!"

It was almost lunchtime and Lydia had been worried sick about Owen all morning. Peter hadn't called or texted—not that she expected him to. Lydia startled at the sharpness of Stiles' voice rising over the thunderous ticking of the clock. The entire economics class turned in tandem to stare at the awkward teenager who had broken the silence. Stiles was sitting at his desk, leaned all the way over so his face was next to Lydia's ear. She had been completely lost int thought.

Coach's face tightened in annoyance, "Something you'd like to share with the class, Mr. Stilinski?"

Stiles floundered, his mouth opening and closing several times before he nervously cleared his throat, "Uhh…nope…nothing, Coach." Thankfully, he was saved by the bell. Coach's voice boomed over the noise of students getting out of their chairs and heading toward the lunchroom, cursing Stiles and promising extra laps at lacrosse practice later. Stiles and Scott followed Lydia out to her locker. Stiles was tapping his foot impatiently, his hands fisted around the straps of his backpack. "Lydia, I've been trying to get your attention for the last five minutes! This is serious!"

"So is passing economics," Lydia replied breezily, tossing her book into the back of the locker and picking up her lunch. Pausing to check her reflection in the mirror, she sighed. There was a dark purple stain of exhaustion that sat beneath her eyes that wasn't quite covered by her foundation. She grabbed her rosy red lipstick from her bag, refreshing her lips before turning to face Scott and Stiles. "Well?" She groused, "Talk!"

Scott ushered Lydia toward the lunchroom, sitting in the corner where they wouldn't be easily overheard. Stiles flanked Lydia on the other side, instinctively putting her in the middle in case they were suddenly attacked. At Beacon Hills High School, there was just no telling what horror or monstrosity could descend at any moment. Once they were seated, Scott began to speak hesitantly, "My mother is still pretty incoherent, they have her on a lot of medication." He paused a moment, the pain written all over his face.

Lydia reached out, resting her hand on top of Scott's. "I'm so sorry. I wish I had realized it sooner…" The motion caused her sweater to slip slightly, revealing the livid claw marks that Owen had left across her chest.

"What the hell is that?" Stiles snarled, "Did Peter do that to you? I'm going to kill him!" Balling up his fist, he smacked it against the table. The movement sent a shockwave of pain radiating up Stiles' arm and he let out a shriek of discomfort.

"It wasn't Peter, Stiles!" Lydia's expression grew dangerous and both Scott and Stiles leaned away from her in fear of retaliation. Lydia tugged her sweater closed, and cleared her throat, "If you must know, the scratches came from Owen." Scott and Stiles shared a look Lydia knew meant trouble. "What?"

Stiles was practically giddy with excitement, "We may have found a link between all of the women." He grabbed a well worn notebook from his backpack and flipped it open. "Taryn Carlisle was the first victim. She was twenty-four years old and had two children with her husband." Flipping the page, he pointed to the second woman's name, "Erin Walchyk, thirty, had a daughter." Stiles put his finger up to make a point and ended up nearly stabbing Lydia in the eye. He deflated slightly against the searing heat of Lydia's glare. "The one outlier was Angela Zhou. Eighteen years old, freshman at Oregon State University…"

"I think if you have an outlier in a serial killer case, you're missing a link. Besides, Mrs. McCall is older than the other victims. There are too many holes in your pattern." Lydia replied coolly. This killer was choosing her victims based on something and Lydia refused to believe it was random. The dreams she had put her inside the mind of the killer; this woman was calculated, cruel, and intelligent.

"That's exactly what Stiles said," Scott pressed eagerly. "So, his dad started looking into Angela's extracurricular activities. She studied abroad her senior year of high school…or at least she said she did."

Stiles flipped to the back of the notebook, "Angela Zhou's parents are ultraconservative and were very upset when she got pregnant at the end of her junior year. They packed her up and sent her to a private program for unwed teenage mothers. When she gave birth she was forced to give up the child for Christian adoption." He lowered his voice considerably, "My father was able to trace the records and Angela gave birth to a baby boy eight months ago…"

Lydia's stomach turned over. "So Angela fits the pattern. The killer is going after mothers." Now it wasn't such a secret as to why social services was so backed up right now.

"Not just mothers," Stiles peered at her, "Mothers of children who have supernatural abilities. Kaylee Verbeek, the one who shaved her head, has a seven year old daughter who's a werecoyote. Malia smelled her when she came into the station with her aunt." Stiles gazed over at Scott, "Melissa has a son with claws too—"

"Roberta had Owen." Lydia finished for him. She dragged a hand through her hair, letting out a shaky breath. Her hand fell to cover the wound that Owen had accidentally inflicted this morning. "He was born a werewolf." Lydia chewed her bottom lip, "So we're looking at a were-creature who wants to kill the mothers of other were-people?" She shook her head, "That makes it sicker somehow."

Scott sighed heavily, "We're not sure if this is related but all the victims are also all single moms. Taryn had just filed for divorce from her husband. Kaylee used a donor to get pregnant—she may not have even known what her daughter was." Scrubbing a hand over his jaw, Scott felt a heavy weight sitting in his chest. "My mom is single too…and if Roberta had anyone in her life, there's no trace of him anywhere."

Stiles nodded ardently at everything Scott was saying. "Now that we have a link between the victims, we need you to use those banshee powers to find this psycho."

Lydia let out a soft huff of displeasure, "I am doing my best, Stiles. When I close my eyes, I'm drowning in voices trying to contact me from beyond the grave. It's a constant barrage that I haven't figured out how to filter yet." She frowned, "It's very disorienting." Twisting a strand of strawberry blonde hair around her finger, she met Scott's gaze. "You can actually thank Peter for saving your mom. I was overwhelmed by the images and the angry impulses I was reading off the killer. I just couldn't piece it together.

Both boys cringed at the sound of Peter's name. Stiles scoffed, "You cannot trust Peter Hale. He's only out for himself. Whatever you think he's doing to help you and this child, it's just a means to an end. He'll take and take and take until you're nothing but a shell of your former self. Look at Derek! Does he seem like a super well adjusted guy to you? No! He's miserable! All the Hales are!"

Lydia gritted her teeth angrily. "Peter realized Melissa would be coming off the late shift with a stethoscope. He was the one who insisted we call. If not for him, Scott's mom would be victim number six!" She stood abruptly, "I'm not asking you to trust Peter. I'm asking you to trust me."

Stiles looked like he'd been kicked in the gut. "Lydia!"

"No!" Lydia snapped, "That's the last I want to hear on the subject!" Stalking out of the lunch room, Lydia gritted her teeth. She stormed into the bathroom and plopped down on top of the toilet seat. Lydia realized very quickly that she was not alone. Malia crawled beneath the bathroom door, sitting against the stall door. Lydia groaned, "Malia, that's so unsanitary. Get off the floor!"

"It's cleaner than most of the places that I've been…" Malia shrugged complacently but stood up to placate Lydia nonetheless. "I heard you talking to Scott and Stiles. I'm helping with the investigation." There was a beat of silence before Malia spoke up again, "We have to catch this serial killer bitch. Growing up without parents really sucks…"

The implication of what Malia was insinuating cut Lydia to the quick. Malia's adoptive father didn't know what to do with her after she returned from the woods, and he had dumped her at Eichen House. Malia practically lived at the Stilinski house these days; it wasn't only because of her relationship with Stiles but because she really had no place to call her own. "We'll catch the killer, Malia," Lydia soothed. Stepping out of the stall, Lydia forced Malia to wash her hands at the same time she did. Afterward, she ushered Malia out of the bathroom. "I know that Peter isn't exactly the easiest person to get along with. He's no angel."

"Stiles called him a backstabbing self-centered asshole…"

"That's…actually pretty accurate…" Lydia replied weakly, "But he has the potential to be so much more." Malia followed Lydia toward their last class of the day, and the most dreaded of all: math. Leaning against the lockers as they waited for the bell to ring, Lydia could see the gears turning inside Malia's head. "Do you remember when you first turned back into a girl? Your first night home you went back into the woods…"

"I was hunting deer." Malia stated matter-of-factly. "Then they packed me up and carted me off to Eichen House." Her expression suddenly changed, "Stiles told me that I can't do that anymore. It's not something that normal people do."

"You learned from that experience," Lydia offered and Malia nodded. "In a lot of ways, Peter is like you."

"He goes running naked in the woods? But Stiles said—"

Lydia bit back a smirk, "Not that part, Malia. I mean that he's learning from his mistakes. After the fire, he was deeply disturbed. The anguish he suffered while locked inside his body manifested itself in such a profoundly disturbing way." She narrowed her eyes, "I'm not saying it gives him a free pass. He hurt me too." Without thinking about it, her hand covered the livid scar at her waist that served as a lifelong reminder. "Stiles and Scott will tell you that I'm deluding myself and maybe I am, Malia…but you haven't seen Peter the way that I have. If you spend an hour with him—"

"Okay." Malia interrupted, her expression remained blank.

"Okay what?" Lydia furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

Malia cocked her head to the side as if Lydia had grown another head. "I'll spend an hour with Peter." The shrill ringing of the bell caused her to grimace, "It can't be any worse than math." Slogging into the classroom, Malia took her usual seat next to Lydia.

They were both counting down the minutes until this class was over…the end of the day could not come soon enough.


Peter was having a hell of a time trying to get Owen to settle down. After Lydia left in the morning, Owen had slept for only an hour before he got up and had been fussy ever since. Peter fed him several times, changed him, gave him a little bath, rocked him, sang to him…but it was no use. Owen vacillated between full-on screaming, wailing, and whimpering; all of which seemed to be designed to tear Peter's heart right out of his chest. Peter slumped over the carseat that Owen rested in, and rested his forehead against the cool plastic. The only logical conclusion Peter could come up with was that he was missing his mother…or Lydia…or both.

"I miss her too, buddy," Peter murmured to the agitated changing into a pair of jeans and a clean v-neck, Peter decided the best course of action was to distract both of them. He never had much use for a car. Peter loved his motorcycle and enjoyed roaming the woods on foot. Unfortunately, neither was an option with a tiny infant. Lydia had taken the Prius to school and that left him stranded with the baby. The money that had been returned to him after they managed to shut down the deadpool was slightly less than what he'd had before, however it was more than enough to live comfortably. He called up the local dealership and two hours later, they were delivering the biggest, baddest SUV on the lot. Lydia might be content driving that little tin can but Peter was not taking any chances with Owen.

Almost as soon as Peter got into the car and strapped the car seat in, Owen began to calm. By the time Peter pulled onto the main road into town, the baby was sleeping soundly. He didn't make a peep as Peter slipped him out of the car and headed into the only baby boutique in town. The moment he stepped inside, Peter felt like he'd entered an alternate dimension. There wasn't a single other man in this store. Women at various stages of pregnancy turned to stare at him…

Peter placed Owen's car seat onto the cart. "We're outnumbered…" The baby continued to sleep, unperturbed by the turn of events. Walking up and down the aisles, Peter was soon realizing that he was not only outnumbered but he was sorely outclassed as well. There were cribs in all colors, shapes, sizes, and prices; there were safety ratings, mom's picks, and employee favorites. Peter's head was spinning with all the choices. His cell phone was burning a hole in his pocket and he had to steel himself against calling Lydia… She was already convinced he couldn't take care of Owen on his own and this would only prove her right.

It took three salespeople to explain the difference between a bassinet and a crib to Peter. After that, he handed the manager his credit card and told him to pick the sturdiest, safest nursery furniture available and bring it out to the car. With that crisis averted, Peter went to look at strollers. They all looked good, so he chose the most expensive one—to be on the safe side. Afterward, he headed into the clothing department. The sheer volume was suffocating…how could something so tiny need so many clothes? He considered turning and running in the opposite direction but Lydia told him to get the baby some warmer clothes…and he was not going come home empty handed.

Cursing inwardly, Peter picked up several jackets, trying to size them based on the sleeping baby. Eventually, he got fed up and tossed a bunch of things into the carriage and damn the consequences. He'd keep the receipts and Lydia could holler at him later. They'd already been at this store for hours and Owen would be hungry soon.

After putting a major dent into his savings, Peter hurried his way back home. When they pulled into the garage, Owen was just starting to stir. By the time he got a bottle made, Peter looked up at the clock and groaned. How the hell was it after noon? Lydia would be home in a few hours and he wanted to have all this done before she got here. And so…Peter did the only thing he could. Grabbing his phone, he pressed the speed dial.

"What?"

"Is that any way to greet your favorite uncle?" Peter snarked but then thought better of it. "I need your help."

"I'm busy," Derek replied hotly. His finger hovered over the button to disconnect the call when the soft whimpering of a baby reached his ears. Now that his werewolf powers had been restored, he felt as if his senses were hypersensitive. "I'll be there in five minutes." True to his word, Derek was ready to knock the door down a few minutes later. "This is an all time low for you! You stole a baby!?" His fist tightened. "Where's the mother!?"

Peter bounced Owen gently. "Dead…slashed into pieces, as a matter of fact." Derek was ready to think the worst when Peter rolled his eyes. "Surely Scott has filled you in on the serial killer who's made her way to Beacon Hills? Well this is Owen Harris. His mother was killed and since he has no relatives, I've been awarded temporary custody."

"What lunatic would let you have custody of a baby!?" Derek snapped, "And why would you want it? You don't have a paternal bone in your body!"

"Au contraire, I'm finding that I'm quite enjoying having this little guy around…" Owen chose that moment to unleash a torrent of spit up onto Peter's shirt. That would teach him to bounce a baby around immediately after giving him a bottle. Silence hung between the two men for a moment and Peter took a deep breath. "I am finding, however, that I have things to learn. I also cannot watch the baby, do the laundry, fix something to eat, and put together the nursery."

Derek remained stoic although the muscle in his jaw ticked mirthfully. "I've seen many sides of you: doting uncle, raving lunatic, manipulative bastard, beast…but stay-at-home dad is one I never thought I'd add to the list." Despite his reservations, Derek began to unload everything from the car. The third bedroom, which remained mostly for storage, was perfect for the nursery. It was all cleared out now and Derek carried everything upstairs.

Peter made sure to burp the baby thoroughly before he tossed everything into the laundry to be washed. With Owen changed and in a fresh new outfit, Peter headed upstairs to help Derek put the nursery together. Already he had the framework of the crib done and was screwing it together. "I appreciate you taking the time to come over and help…"

"I didn't do it for you," Derek replied coolly. He honestly thought the child he'd heard on the phone might be in danger…until he actually saw Peter with him. Derek had been very quiet as he came in and out of the garage but he had watched the scene very carefully. Peter doted on the little boy, it was written all over his face. There was no fear in the child's scent—only that of contentment and adoration. "How long is he staying?"

Peter settled the baby in the car seat while they worked, but he would be very glad to have something else for Owen to rest in soon. "They granted me temporary custody for sixty days but it can be revoked at any time. It was made very clear to me that a social worker would be out here within the next three days. They're a bit backlogged at the moment."

Nodding curtly, Derek tested the bolts to make sure the crib would hold before settling the bottom and the crib mattress in. They still had the bureau, the changing table, and the rocking chair to put together but at least now the child had someplace to sleep. "What happens after sixty days?"

Despite his best efforts, Peter had been thinking about that nonstop. Roberta Harris had no family or friends to speak of. She'd been very private and there was little chance that anyone would come to claim this child. Yet adopting this baby would be hindered by his status as a single man. His lawyer had already advised him that it would be a lengthy and undoubtedly costly process. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it…"

Derek continued opening up packages and throwing mountains of packing material out into the hall. He was halfway through the changing station when his entire body tensed. "Someone is coming…"

"It's Lydia," Peter replied without thinking.

"Lydia?" Derek thundered, startling Owen in the process. "What the hell would Lydia Martin be doing here?" He'd been so focused on the baby that he hadn't realized Lydia's scent was all over this house. Her gentle perfume lingered in the living room, in the guest room, and on the tiny child who was gearing up for a tantrum.

When Peter turned to comfort Owen, he was shocked to see his daughter hunched over the baby carrier. Malia was down on all fours, sniffing the baby cautiously. Seeing Malia and Owen together was something he could hardly have fathomed, even in his wildest imagination. He was frozen in place, even as Lydia stepped into the doorway. She must have understood his plight, because she jumped right in to smooth things over.

"Malia's going to spend a couple hours here—"

"You said one hour," Malia interrupted, "Just one." She sat back on her haunches, assessing the child clinically. "It's cute but it smells." Her dark eyes swept up to meet Peter's, "It smells like you."

Lydia nodded, "Owen is a werewolf. He was born one, like Derek and Peter. Just like you were born a werecoyote." Scooping Owen up into her arms, Lydia felt as if everything were right in the world. The orneriness disappeared immediately and Owen cooed, snuggling right in. "You were very productive. Thanks for getting everything, I hope it wasn't too much trouble." She smiled at Peter, "I see we have a few Hales here today."

"All of the Hales," Derek countered, "Except for Cora and she's never coming back." Malia had wandered over and was trying out the new rocking chair that he'd put together. Derek didn't mind, it was nice to have children around again. For just this moment, it felt like life before the fire when they were mostly happy.

Peter resisted the urge to tug Lydia into his arms and kiss her until her knees buckled. The only thing in the world that mattered to Peter was family and Lydia had somehow managed to bring all of them together in less than twenty-four hours. Malia was the wildcard, he couldn't figure out why she would want to be here…but she seemed content, swinging her legs. There was no anger in her posture or in her scent, which surprised him. After everything he'd done…malice was the very least he expected from her. "We should do something for dinner…"

Lydia felt that she might melt under the intensity of Peter's gaze. He stared at her hungrily, almost predatorily, and it sent heat zipping through the core of her. If not for Malia and Derek, she wasn't sure what would've happened. "That sounds good. Derek, Malia, I hope you can stay…"

Derek shook his head incredulously. "Family dinner?" Frosty the Snowman was probably having a blast skating all the way to hell and back. Derek seriously considered saying no right then and there…but leaving Malia with Peter, Lydia, and the baby seemed unfair. The poor girl had been through enough. "Sounds fine."

"I could eat a whole deer by myself." Malia announced, earning her a rare smile from Derek.

"It's settled then." Owen was getting sleepy against her shoulder again and it would be suppertime before long.

Malia suddenly moved toward Lydia again, "Can I hold it? I bet it's heavier than it looks…"

Lydia looked incredibly unsure but Peter nodded immediately. "Go sit down in the chair. The baby's name is Owen, Malia. You don't have to call him an 'it'." Peter rested his hand on the small of Lydia's back. "It's okay, she won't hurt him." Easing the baby into Malia's arms, Owen didn't make a peep as he snuggled in close.

"I think it—" Malia caught herself quickly, "He likes me. Owen likes me."

Lydia remained at Peter's side, worried that Malia might make a sudden movement or drop the baby somehow. Yet Malia seemed more than content just to snuggle him close…and smell him a bit more. "The laundry was almost done when I went by. I'm going to go switch it…" Lydia headed back downstairs, feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

"I'll come with you. I'll get dinner figured out," Peter offered. Peter's icy blue eyes bore into Derek's chocolate ones. "Watch her," He commanded and headed downstairs after Lydia.

Malia looked over at Derek before she gazed down at Owen again. "They're going to make out with each other, aren't they?"

Derek nodded, a pensive expression on his face, "Yeah, I think they are…" Though he wasn't sure why it didn't bother him.

Hurrying into the laundry room, Lydia switched over the baby clothes into the dryer as efficiently as possible. When she turned to head back into the kitchen, she nearly rammed straight into Peter. "Oh…" Her heart pounded in her throat as she looked up at him. Memories of last night flashed through her, Peter's hot, warm flesh against her skin, his rippling muscles that held her tight and didn't let her fall. A flush crept over her cheeks as she nearly lost herself in his cobalt eyes.

Power thrummed through Peter as he gazed down at Lydia. He wanted to grab her and throw her up against the dryer…but she deserved something better. She deserved to be treated like a princess, not a whore. He reached for her, cupping her cheek and his thumb brushed away a wayward strand of her hair. His heartbeat kicked up in his chest as he bent down, his lips parting ever so slightly as he pressed her against the rumbling dryer.

Every cell in Lydia's body was on fire as she slid her hands over his hips. She couldn't wait to devour him. Her breasts swelled and ached for his touch almost as badly as the core of her. She stood on tiptoe to capture his mouth when a harsh ringing shattered the moment. Breathing heavily, Lydia pressed a hand to her belly to quell the butterflies. "Is that the food already?"

"I haven't ordered anything yet…" Peter's voice was gruff with desire. He was hard as a rock and fairly sure the pressure against his fly was going to cause him severe brain damage. "Maybe if we ignore it, it'll go away?"

The doorbell rang again…and then again…the horrid noise agitated Owen and he began to scream at the top of his lungs. Lydia groaned. "I'll get the baby, you get the door." She hurried upstairs and quickly plucked Owen from Malia's arms. The sound of a shrill, angry voice from downstairs made Lydia break out in a cold sweat. This was not the time for her banshee senses to kick in…

Lydia took the stairs carefully with the baby in her arms. She was three steps into the kitchen before she saw it, standing there in front of her. The woman was grey and sallow, her body caked with mud from the rains and her fingernails torn from fighting. Her face was bloated and her innards slashed and pouring out of her. In an instant, Lydia dragged in a breath and screamed at the top of her lungs.

The world seemed to shatter, leaving her breathless and clammy. Peter had taken Owen from her arms and held him tight, shielding him from the ear-splitting shriek that Lydia let out. Lydia stood there, pale and shivering as the image of the corpse died away, leaving in its wake a very perturbed, lividly angry woman from the department of social services.

One thing was for sure, they were in deep trouble now.


Woof! This was quite the chapter. Almost 5000 words in this chapter alone, guys! Your reviews, tweets, and tumblrs have really motivated me to keep writing this fic. If you want more, keep it up! I love the feedback and it's what gets me through moments when my muse is suffering.

Teen Wolf finale tomorrow! Ah! I am so excited/scared. I think what I'm looking forward to most is the Peter/Malia scenes. I love their dynamic so much! I can't wait to see how it all plays out. I'm super scared for Derek though...I don't think I could survive losing that scruffy face on the show! I'll be live tweeting (during commericals only because I refuse to miss a second of the action) tomorrow night, so feel free to join me! Follow MarinaBlack99!

HUGE shoutout to my amazing beta JustVisiting80 who is so epic. She wrote her own chapter for Fire and Ice-her AWESOME fic for the 100-and managed to edit this one too! She is totally freaking epic. Show her some love! She deserves it!

Happy Sunday!

Marina