I don't own any of the characters


I can now count two girl that I can see as my daughters. They are polar opposites too. One a strong fashionable people person, the other equally as strong but not as fashionable and as much of a people person. The latter was Allison, sure she'd grown since she first arrived but no one could meet up to the high expectations of Lydia Martin when it comes to personality.

Lydia for all her outgoing and bossy exterior is the same as every other Derek Hale and Stiles Stillinski. One may be more open but underneath they all have the same doubts and worries. They all have that little voice in their head that maybe they're not good enough, maybe they aren't doing as well as people want them to be. Maybe they've failed.

And no matter how many different people tell you that, you'll always have those days where the voice comes back. But one way to fend off that little voice is to have someone you love and trust there beside you, someone that tells you how well you've done. These people are usually family, parents, grandparents, best friends, someone who loves you equally as much.

So when Lydia knocked on my door one night, crying and shaking on my doorstep. I knew she was having one of those days. Even the people who others saw as perfect and popular had these days. Popular people had the same feelings and insecurities as others. Lydia, miss popularity, the only Banshee I'd ever met. Any of these names didn't fully show what she was like. What my little girl was like?

"Come in sweetie," wrapping her hands around herself she tiptoed into the house.

"Is Scott home?" she whispered softly.

"No, are you here to see him?"

"No, just checking," again so soft you almost couldn't hear her.

With a quick ok from me I took her coat and led her into the living room where I motioned for her to sit down. She sat in the same spot as Stiles when he was having one of these days. Dunno whether that meant something but it most likely did. She was upset, he was upset, all my children had been upset one day or another and they all would again. Hopefully, I'd be able to hold those days off for as long as humanly possible as it just wasn't fair to them. They're kids, innocent and sweet and mislead at times but still kids. Call me maternal but I know what's best. Stiles doesn't call me the 'Mom of the pack' for nothing. Although that may be so that Derek would stop saying he was acting like a mother hen with the research and care he gave the others.

Takes after his mom there, Scott had said, both of them.

Anyway back to the real matter at hand, Lydia Martin crying in my living room.

I was walking towards the kitchen, a offhanded, "Do you want tea, coffee or juice, sweetie?"

"Tea"

"Milk and sugar?"

Lydia hesitated, ""Just milk no sugar please"

"No problem, sweetie." I've learnt as you can see that the more you show that nothing is wrong with them showing emotion then they'll be fine. With kids as soon as they let go of the restraints they have on there emotions then they feel all that pressure lift and go away. It's better for them that way.

Bottling up whats inside is bad, can cause them to do irrational things, dangerous things.

Minutes passed whilst Lydia made herself at home and I made tea. Gotta let them adjust to the environment before going straight in.

As I walked into the living room carrying a cup in each hand, I asked, "So how can I help you darling? Did something happen?"

Lydia took the cup from me with a small thank you. She looked into it for a few seconds before answering, "Nothing really just...everything actually. Like why am I a banshee of I don't find people until they're dead? Why does my mother act like a petulant child? Why does Scott and Stiles always drag me with them into danger? Why does Allison pull away from me sometimes? Why can't EVERYTHING BE NORMAL AGAIN?"

Yep Lydia is the most vocal of my children by far, has to be why she's so outgoing. She was taking in large breaths, suddenly very composed. Back straight and taking little sips from the tea. But anyone could see through the mask now after that explosion.

"Lydia, listen. You're important sweetheart and it isn't your fault fault those people are dying, OK."

Lydia looked at me, all composed Lydia crumbling once again. Lip wobbling and tears welling, "How'd you know that was the main reason?"

I smiled at her; scooting closer to her on the couch; I reached my hand over and lay it on her knee, and spoke, "Because I know what kind of person you really are. I know that you hold everything that happens as your responsibility when it isn't in fact yours. I as an adult am meant to keep you safe. All those things, like worrying over safety are meant to be my responsibility. I help fix people up. The sheriff is the one who is meant to save those people. To find them and put away the people behind it. Not you."

Lydia scooted closer, laying her head on my shoulder, "I know but it still doesn't make me feel any better."

"I know, I know but remember you have me and the pack."

Lydia laughed watery, "Yey the pack."

I nudged her, "Yes yey the pack. Sure they make stupid decisions but they're good."

Lydia sat up and looked me in the eyes, "Can I tell you something I was told never to tell anyone ever for as long as I shall live?"

Smiling, "Well technically you shouldn't but you seem dying to so..."

"Derek sings in the shower"

"WHAT?!"

Lydia and me burst into hysterics, oops. Stiles and Scott may have heard.