-7 years later-

*Olivia Peters*

"Making my way down town

Walking fast, Faces pass

And I'm home bound

do dodo do do, do dodo do do"

I tap on my steering wheel singing along to the radio as I drive. I can't help but to listen to this song every time I drive to Beacon Hills. I was always excited to go see my second family.

"Staring blankly ahead

Just making my way, Making my way

Through the crowd

do dodo do do, do dodo do do"

I had been keeping in contact with them ever since my sister passed and within the last seven years, they've helped me through a lot more than just that. I talk to them at least once a week catching up and seeing how they are doing. John has been the Sheriff for a few years now, so proud of him, and Stiles is a junior in high school. Wow! A junior! My little Stiles is growing up so fast.

I feel closer to these two than the majority of the people back home to be honest. Not that I don't have good friends. It's just. I lost touch with most of them after High School and the one or two that I do stay in touch with, are all married with kids. Then there are my parents who are always working, not giving us much time to talk. They also really weren't the same with me after what happened to Emily. When I turned 18, I moved out and started living out of my car, traveling and writing, just to get away from it all.

I started writing because of Emily. When she was gone, I didn't show much emotion towards the matter. At least on the outside. Don't get me wrong, I miss my sister. I miss her so much. I'm simply a happy person, smiling at anything and everything. I've never done well with showing feelings that make me sad like that on the outside. I hold it all in and just go numb. I can't help it. I guess I must have some disorder. That's nothing unusual. I can just add it to the pile of other things people say are wrong with me.

My therapist; yea, my parents got me a therapist instead of just talking to me themselves; recommended I start to write. That way, I still have some way of expressing my grief from my sister. I did what she said and started a journal. Then I began a blog. I gained so many followers and good reviews for my writing on my blog that I decided when I was 18 that I would just try and write professionally.

It seems to be working for now. I have 2 published kids' books, nothing too big yet, and I read in bars and schools for a few extra bucks. I'm hoping my next work is an actual book though. Something for an older generation to read.

It's not much money to live on but when I get myself in a bind, I usually just sleep in my car. It's not an extravagant life style, but I like it.

So now, I'm heading to the Stilinski's home to stay for a few months. John said I could stay as long as I like in their spare bedroom. Apparently he likes the female touch I usually hold within the house.

Last time I spoke with him, he sounded exhausted. Stiles sounded a little off too. Like something is wrong and they weren't telling me. That's the only reason I decided that I would stay for such a long time. I usually visited for a week at the most. I don't even stay in San Francisco with my parents for that long.

I don't know what it is, but I always want different scenery. Actually living in a place for more than a few weeks makes me bored. Not to mention, the less time I stay somewhere, the less I have to deal with my annoying ability.

I know my sister was a banshee. She and I both were given some sort of 'gift' as she liked to call it. We never told anyone. That's why we were so close. If we needed someone to talk to about it, it was each other.

I had a 'gift' too. Similar to hers as it relates to death, but it is also something completely different. She could sense when someone was about to die and find dead bodies. I, on the other hand, could speak to the ones that didn't cross over yet. The ones that lingered in the void between the lands of the living and dead.

It probably wasn't easy for her to know who would die and to find their bodies, but at least she didn't have to speak with them and have them follow her around because she was their only contact between worlds. I don't even know what to call myself. What kind of being exactly has this ability, and this power doesn't just stop there.

I, somehow, emit off this certain strength to them. I've learned that the newly dead, appear to me as if they were still alive. They would be whole and colorful and solid looking. However; the longer they refuse to cross over, the more they fade. It takes a life time before they disappear into thin air.

The strength I give off to them, helps them to solidify and become whole looking again. Only to my eyes, of course. They are still dead. But it makes them feel better and I think it helps them to remain in the void longer.

I don't know why they would want that. No matter how much strength I give them, they still age in the void. They don't stop aging until they give into whatever reaper wants to take them.

I also learned how to block this energy from radiating from me as long as I think about it. That way, they don't bother me as much. I feel bad, but hey, they are dead and taking my strength won't bring them back. Or at least I don't think so.

So that's another big reason I choose not to stay in a place for too long. The longer I stay, the more it attracts them.

But my boys aren't doing well, and I know it. So I'm moving in with them for as long as I think they need me there…or until they kick me out.

I laugh to myself trying to imagine them actually kicking me out.

At last, I pull into the drive way looking up at the 2 story house in front of me. My stomach does a flip from all the elation pulsing through me. I can't wait to see them again.

I park my car and walk up to the door. Before I knock, John opens the door with a huge smile pulling me into a tight hug.

"Olivia! It's so good to see you. You're earlier than I expected. I haven't even gone to the store yet."

I pull away from his hug with a knowing smile. "John, we both know that you would rather I do the grocery shopping while I'm here."

He chuckled. "Well, you got me there."

He then helped me grab my things from the car and bring them up to the spare bedroom that I would be staying in. "Where's Stiles?" I asked him. I wanted to find out what the spastic teen had been up to since we last spoke.

John had an unsure look on his face and scratched his head. "Oh you know. He's around…Doing whatever teenage boys do." That was vague. "Probably with Scott."

"I see." I slightly raise my eyebrow and give a small smile. "I would have thought that he would have wanted to be here when I arrived."

"Oh, he does. Or did." He assures me. "He's just been dealing with a lot lately. We both have. And like I said, you're early. I can give him a call for you if you want me to?"

"No, that's ok. I'll let him get away with it for now." I joked. "Well, I'm going to put this stuff away and then go get some food. Do you wanna come with?"

"No, that's ok. I have some work that I wanted to get started on. But there's some money in the jar under the sink cabinet. Go ahead and take that with you when you go. Also the spare key is taped to the bottom of the mailbox."

He brought me into another tight hug and left me to get settled.

I didn't realize how nice it was to have a closet to hang clothes in again. Or a counter that I can set what few bathroom products I have down on it. Even my couple pairs of shoes had a place. I took out my laptop, which was the last item occupying my bag, and set it in the nightstand draw hooked up to its charger.

Well, that was everything. I washed up in the bathroom, then went downstairs to grab some money from the jar and left.

I didn't go straight to the store though. I had someone to see first.

I drove to a nearby flower shop and bought some really pretty daisies with my own money before arriving at the Beacon Hills Cemetery.

I know it's weird that we buried my sister here instead of in San Francisco but something inside me made me insist my parents allow her to rest here. Not to mention, San Francisco never really felt like a home to either of us. We were always happier being anywhere but there. That's why she wanted to take me on that trip so bad. So, I guess in a way, I wanted to bury her here because I knew she would never rest easy if she was in San Fran with our parents and well, this place was where she died.

I parked my car on the side of the road and walked through the gate. My sister was the first one on the right side. Easy to find.

I kissed my fingertips, touching the top of her grave and replaced the old dead flowers, that I had put there the last time I visited, with the new ones. "I miss you," I whispered.

Hearing a woman sobbing behind me broke my gaze from my sister's resting place. I glance over to her. A man held her as they knelt down at a small grave. A boy stood to the side of them with a look of hurt on his face. I could tell it was a new grave because the dirt had not settled and was still freshly piled.

They were a few rows back, but still close enough for me to hear the boy try to get the couples attention. "Please, mommy," the boy pleaded. "I'm fine, see? Look at me! Everything is ok. I'm right here. Please just look at me!"

My heart broke when I heard his voice cracking from being so upset. I shouldn't pry into their business but I couldn't stop looking at them.

The boy noticed me staring. Glancing at the couple and then back up at me, he began walking in my direction. My eyes followed him as he reached me.

"You can see me?" His face was sad. He didn't look any older than 8.

I nodded my head.

He looked toward his parents and back to me. "They're sad."

I nodded again.

He sniffled a quiet sob. "They can't see me, but I'm right here. I want them to know I'm ok and I don't want them to be sad."

I was full of sorrow for this little boy. He couldn't understand that even though they can't see him, they could still feel his presence and that is what's making them ache inside. That as long as he is around, they will never recover from his death.

What do you say to a child to help them crossover? I usually deal with people older than him and can just be blunt about the matter. I didn't want to make this less easy on him and make him feel worse than he already was. He knew he was causing them pain, he just didn't know how.

"It will be ok, you know." I began. "They know you are here."

"Then why are they so sad." He shifted his eyes to look at mine.

I knelt down to his height. "They are sad because even though they know you are here, they miss being able to see your face and give you kisses. They are sad because they love you and you were taken away before they were ready for it. It's ok though," I smile at him. "You will see them again one day. These feelings you have right now, they go away. I promise you, they do. But do you know what helps them to go away faster?"

He shook his head.

"Letting them go." I paused. "You have to tell them goodbye. Don't worry. It's not goodbye forever. It's just goodbye for now. I mean it when I say that you will see each other again."

The boy looked at his feet, finally seeming to understand what I was telling him.

"What's your name?" I asked him.

"Michael."

"Such a grown up name, for a grown up little boy." His eyes meet mine again. "Be brave, Michael. Do you think you could do that for them?" I gestured my head toward the still weeping couple.

Michael let out a deep breathe. "Yea, I can do that." He wiped his tears from his eyes and grinned at me.

"Now," I stood up letting a smile surface my lips. "I think it's time, don't you?"

With a little more energy in his movement, Michael walked back to his parents. I nodded at him reassuringly when he glanced up at me a final time. Then, giving both his parents one last kiss on each of their cheeks, I could faintly hear him whisper, "I love you," and fade away.

Once Michael disappeared, his parents had stopped crying. It seemed a weight had been lifted from them and they could breathe again. This feeling was the only reason I didn't mind my abilities so much. My 'gift.'

I give the family their privacy again as I return to my sister. I sat with her, talking for a long time. Talking about what just happened, about mom and dad, about John and Stiles, how some of her friends are doing back home, wondering what her life would be like if she was still here, and many other different topics. I had to have been there for 2 hours, sitting and lying beside her.

When my stomach started grumbling, I decided it was time to go. I sat up and began to pick some of the grass from my hair. I definitely can't wait to take a shower tonight.

I stand up, brushing off my pants and shirt and look up. I noticed a man down a ways putting what looked like purple flowers on a grave. I couldn't see him very well. The only things that stood out were his leather jacket and black hair. I saw him look my way and with my cheeks heating up from being caught staring at him, my eyes shifted back to my sister's grave.

I gave my sister one last kiss with my hand, whispered, "I love you," and left to the grocery store.

A/N So I know I only mentioned Derek a little towards the end there, I promise there will be more. I just needed some informative chapters first. Thank you all for reading and please let me know what you think so far. :)