Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to Teen Wolf nor its characters. This piece of fiction is created purely out of love for the show and no profit will be made.

An Ye Harm None

Chapter 1 – Scream

"LYDIA!"

The scream pierced the still night air, waking up every resident of the manor. My eyes tore open as I redrew my breath, screaming out her name again before waking up fully. "LYDIAAA!"

Aunt Meriope crashed through my bedroom door, hitting the light switch in her wake. Her pale horsey face wrinkled in concern. "What on earth – Cassie, are you okay?"

My throat made a howling sound as I gasped for air, twisting in my bed sheets. I tried blinking my eyes rapidly, ridding myself of any residual nightmare, and felt my covers soaked in sweat.

"Cassandra, what happened – is everything – did you have a nightmare?" Aunt Persephone appeared in the doorway with her hair in curlers and clutching her robe closed across her chest. I struggled to breathe, and only stared at them with wide eyes.

Aunt Meriope lowered herself gently to sit on my bed, making soothing noises and checking my temperature by laying her thin hand on my forehead. "Shh, shh, it's okay. Just a bad dream, baby, just a bad-"

"No," I mumbled, sitting up and swatting her hand away. "No, no. Not a dream, it happened. " The remainder of my screaming consisted of a throbbing ache in my temples, which I massaged to get my thinking straight. "It happened, Aunt Meriope. Lydia's hurt, she's dying."

I hadn't sooner said the word, than I realized the truth of it. It was probably a decade since I last saw her, but we had always had a strong connection – same birthdate and everything – and of course I would be reminded of her when she died. Our family had a special (and sick) connection to death, that's for sure.

"Your cousin, Lydia…Martin?" Aunt Meriope said the surname as it left a bad taste in her mouth. By now, several more shapes became apparent outside my bedroom door, and the hallways fluttered with bits of conversations from my many housemates, mostly cousins and aunts. The more senior women demanded access to my room, while my younger cousins cried to know if I was all right, unharmed, alive even.

The sharp tone of my Grandaunt Hester ordered the whole lot back to bed. She stepped into my bedroom herself and closed the door behind her. While Aunt Meriope and Aunt Persephone were both dressed in nightgowns and robes, Grandaunt Hester was still clad in her ankle-length black gown with sleeves reaching her fingers. Nearing her 50s, she did nothing to appear younger and her graying hair stayed put in a tight bun that I had never seen unraveled.

"Cassandra," her cool voice calmed the mood considerably, even steadying my breaths. She was not the head of house for nothing.

"Grandaunt Hester," I whispered in respect, lowering my head slightly. She rarely concerned herself with the younger girls in the household, and I could count the number of times she addressed me directly on one hand.

"What did you see, Cassie?" Persephone's knuckles were white from clutching her robe tightly, and her fluttering voice reminded me of a nervous bird. "Was it a vision?"

I nodded, struggling to make sense of it all. "It's Lydia, Grandaunt Hester. My cousin, Natalie's daughter."

Our family tree is twisted and complicated, and while I called her my Grandaunt, it could very well be she was even a more distant relative than that. I couldn't even guess how she was related to Lydia, but only knew that she was.

"Natalie and Lorraine left a long time ago," Grandaunt Hester said, her face set in an impassive expression. "They cut their ties, and are no longer our concern."

"But Ly-"

"Your Aunt Natalie made it very clear that we are no longer welcome in their lives, lest of all her daughter's," Grandaunt Hester interrupted me. Aunt Meriope and Aunt Persephone darted their gaze from me to Grandaunt Hester and back again. I don't think Natalie was their sister, or even if Aunt Meriope and Aunt Persephone were sisters, but Natalie was my mother's sister and Lydia my real cousin.

"She's hurt," I said, working to get out of the covers to stand up. "She needs help. Our help."

"Not our concern," Grandaunt Hester repeated. No matter how much I begged, shouted or tried to reason with her during the next hour did she change her mind.

"But she's family!" I cried out as they were leaving. "I need to go see her, I can help her!"

"You will do no such thing," Grandaunt Hester hissed, turning around to stand in front of me again.

"You can't stop me," I warned, matching her stance.

"If you leave this house, Cassandra Brigitta Blair, you can consider yourself disowned from this family. You will not be welcome back."

The words hit me like a punch in the face. "You can't do that," I croaked, feeling tears from pure disbelief well up in my eyes. But the ugly truth was that she could, she was the matriarch, the Head of the Council as well as the house. "Please, Grandaunt Hester, I can save her."

"If Natalie Martin wanted us to save her daughter, don't you think she would have called by now?"

"Grandmother Blair-"

"Is dead," Grandaunt Hester finished for me and strode out of the room. The door clicked gently behind her.

Grandmother Blair, grandmother of Natalie and my mom, used to be the matriarch, she used to run this school as well. But she died, 102 years of age, just last summer. She would have sent someone; she would have let me go. But my sixteen-year-old self had nothing to stand up with against Grandaunt Hester, her words were final.

I hit the roads not an hour later, preparing to cross the country in my beat-up Honda Accord - Philadelphia, Pennsylvania to Beacon Hills, California. Lydia deserved my help, disowned or not.

The forty-hour drive left me ample time to make calls and prepare for my visit. I tried calling my sister first, but she was somewhere in Europe on a job and I hit voicemail.

"Hey, it's me," I said, speaking into the hands-free, both hands on the wheel. "Um, I may have pissed off Grandaunt Hester for good this time. I…I had a – Lydia's hurt real bad, I think she's dying. So I'm driving to Beacon Hills to see her, I know that's what Mom would have wanted. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know where I'm going, I'll try to call Aunt Belinda afterwards to hear about the House. I may need to sign some stuff in your name, being underage and all, but I'll try not to mess up too much. Call me back when you can, okay? Hope you're having fun in Paris or Rome or wherever you're at right now. Please don't be mad at me. Okay, bye."

I clicked the mic-piece, and breathed slowly through my mouth. She was going to kill me.

My next call was to the Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital and I made a short prayer that they didn't redirect me to the morgue.

"Beacon Hills Memorial, how may I help you?" A woman's voice came through.

"Hi, um…I'm calling about a patient," I hated grown-up phone calls, "A girl, sixteen, strawberry blonde."

"I'm sorry, I can't release any information witho-"

"Her name's Lydia Martin, I'm her cousin," I said hastily, swallowing several times to rid myself of a growing lump. Please let her still be alive.

"I'm sorry, hospital policy ens-"

"Please, I can't get hold of her mom and I just need to – is she – I mean, I need to know if she's okay." My voice cracked and the woman sighed.

"Hang on, I'll see if I can find Mr. Martin," she said and I nodded, even though she couldn't see it. There was a click from the receiver being put down, and for a while I only heard my heartbeat thudding.

"Hello?" A man this time.

"Hi, is this Lydia's dad? It's Cassie, Cassandra, Lydia's cousin," I tripped over my words trying to explain who I was. I don't think my aunt Natalie ever told him too much about her family or why they left it. I just hope he would remember me; it'd been almost ten years.

"Cassie? Cassie Blair?" he asked, sounding confused. "How did you even – did Natalie call you?"

"Yeah, she did," I lied. "But she didn't say much. How is she? Lydia, I mean."

The phone crackled as he exhaled harshly. "Stable." Now I heard the weariness in his tone. "They – the doctors – they can't explain it, she keeps going into shock, some sort of allergic reaction. They're keeping her unconscious for now, but…"

He rambled on, and I tried to follow the thread of the conversation. Someone or something attacked her at the Winter Formal, the police claimed animal attack. Her stomach wound healed slowly, but she was reacting to it in a way the doctors have never seen before.

I tried to think straight, listen to him and drive safely at the same time. Animal attack didn't exactly match my suspicions of supernatural activity, but death is death I suppose. We Blairs are drawn to it, like slightly morbid moths to a flame.

"Is aunt – is Lydia's mom there?" I asked finally, weighing the pro and cons of letting her know I was on my way.

"N-no, no. She's on a business trip, she's on her way back now," he mumbled. "Listen, I'll tell her you called when she wakes up, I'll make her call back. I need to go – the police is – bye, Cassie."

The call ended. So she's still alive, that's something, even though the 'allergic reactions' sounded off to me. It didn't exactly sound like a bee sting if you're rushed to intensive care to receive blood transfusion.

I drove for six hours straight before my first stop at a gas station. I brushed my teeth, used the bathroom and bought breakfast, water and energy drinks before driving on. I was still in Ohio, and didn't plan to stop again before Nebraska. Around noon, I tried calling my Aunt Belinda, a nervous woman nearing her 70s, the last person from my family that lived in Beacon Hills permanently – and that was at least forty years ago.

"Belinda Blair speaking." Her crisp British accent hadn't left her yet, even though she'd moved to the US in her teens. Technically, she wasn't my aunt, but my grandmother's cousin, but as I tried to explain earlier, our family tree was complicated.

"Hi, Aunt Belinda, it's Cassie."

"Cassie? Cassandra? Lilith's daughter?"

"Yup, that's me," I mumbled, fiddling with the cord.

"I haven't heard from you in years," she said and I could hear her tinkering about in the background. "Not since your mother's funeral, I think. Is everything fine? Your sister, she's still…"

"She's fine. Um, but…" I didn't think bringing Lydia up would do me any favors; my family held grudges like sheep held ticks. "Listen, I'm calling about the old house we used to have in California."

The other end stayed silent for a while. "You mean up at the Beacon?"

"Beacon Hills, yeah. We still own it, right? The family, I mean."

"We do, but…"

"Please, Aunt Belinda, I wouldn't be asking this if it wasn't really important. I need to borrow the house for a while, I'm finishing the school year there."

A crash sounded from her end, as if she'd dropped a cup on the floor. "What? Why in mother's name would – did that girl Hester agree to this?" She sounded outraged.

That girl Hester…

"Yes," I said without hesitation, but biting my lip as she couldn't see it. "Something about me maturing and being responsible and all that…"

"Is she mad? I know being the matriarch means innovation and fresh ideas, but - is she absolutely mad?"

I didn't get her shock of going to Beacon Hills. I mean, I knew no one had lived permanently at the house for decades – my mom borrowed it when we visited her sister a few weeks a year, but that was about it. And now that I thought about it, Grandmother Blair had been a bit reluctant about that too.

"Surely, you won't be there on your own?" Her concerned voice echoed through my thoughts a few times, before I crossed my fingers for safety.

"Noooo, no! Of course not, I'll have Sabrina there with me," I referred to my older sister, the responsible and successful one, currently parading around in Europe. That calmed Aunt Belinda down a bit.

"Oh, well, if you have her there…I still don't think it's a good idea, but I'll never refuse my favorite niece anything." Not sure if she meant my sister or me. "I'll call the bank now, let them know you're to be given the key and all."

We settled the practical details, all the while with me calming her down with promises of my sister meeting me in Sacramento by plane and that of course I wouldn't go there on my own. Eventually she prattled on about her cats and flowers and it took me another hour to make her hang up.

I reached Lincoln, Nebraska and settled down in the backseat with my flashlight tucked into my arms, getting a few hours of much needed sleep. I was back on the road before sundown, speeding through the green fields on I-80. Another gas station, another toilet break and a new batch of energy drinks before I drove off. I couldn't help but think that every minute I wasted on breaks was a minute Lydia might not have, so I ignored any lack of sleep and went on all night. Morning came, and I spent the day admiring the nature of Wyoming as I zoomed past.

I called the high school in Beacon Hills, impersonating my Aunt Isadora, who technically was my guardian until I turned 18. It should have been Sabrina, but I guessed she needed her own life too. I tried to explain my homeschooling to the ever-growing skeptical principal, but in the end we agreed that I would have to take a few standardized tests to measure my academic level, but of course I was welcome to their community and I would be allowed to start after winter break, and what second language did I take and blah blah blah.

Mr. Martin had informed the hospital of my identity, because when I called the hospital again, they didn't hesitate to tell me that she was on her way to recovery and they expected her to wake up during the next few days.

Driving in the darkness, I tried not to think about the uneasy lump of ice sitting in my stomach. It wasn't that Lydia was hurt or that she could have died; it was just a really strong feeling of suspicion regarding the circumstances. Our family wasn't normal, and even though Aunt Natalie thought cutting all ties with it would help them lead a normal life, it didn't work that way. I'm not sure how I knew, but Lydia needed my help.

"I'm coming, Lyds," I mumbled into the car, my words lost to the soft-sung country melody from the radio.

Hospitals produced mixed feelings in me. On one hand it was a place for birth and recovery, on the other hand it reeked of death and pain and sorrow, pushing down on me from all sides.

I must have looked like a mess, because the nurse stationed at the desk started to ask me questions about my health before I could state that I was visiting my cousin. She gave me the directions to the intensive care unit.

My heart pounded so hard it felt weird other people didn't hear. This was it. I was here. Going to see Lydia. For the first time in ten years.

"Oh boy," I breathed as I stopped by a corner to steady myself against the wall. For the first time in roughly forty-five hours I started to question if I had made the right decision. I hadn't even talked to Lydia since we were seven, for heaven's sake. "Get it together, Cass. Come on."

I smacked right into a helium balloon. "The hell!" I pushed irritably at the offending 'Get well!' message, before becoming aware of kissing noises down at knee-level. A boy around my age lay spread over three chairs with wooden armrests, smacking the air with his lips.

"Oookay?" I mumbled, stepping around his head and keeping the balloon at arm-distance. My school was all-girls, so maybe this kind of behavior was normal for teenage boys?

"Mmm, you're dirty," he moaned to nobody and I darted past him just as a door opened in front of me.

"Cassie?" the man burst out, giving me an incredulous look.

"Ehm…Mr. Martin?" I guessed, taking in his sandy-colored hair and general tired look.

"Oh my god, look at you," he mumbled, taking me into an awkward hug. "You didn't tell me you were coming here."

"No, I – you know, I was in the neighborhood," I breathed, stuffing my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. I wasn't used being around people not related to me.

"Didn't you live in Pennsylvania?" he asked, but noticed how I tried to look past him through the door of the room that should have held my Lydia. "Oh, she's taking a shower right now."

I let out a long breath. Oh thank you, mother of everything. She's awake. Alive. Thank you.

"On her own?" I gave him a look of disbelief; she couldn't have been awake more than a day at most. I had called just twelve hours ago. She's alive, she's alive, she's alive…

"I offered help, but…" He didn't elaborate. "Man, I'm sure she'll be thrilled to see you. Hey, I'm going to get some coffee from the cafeteria, do you – can I get you anything?"

"Coffee would be amazing," I admitted, nodding enthusiastically. I felt like death right now, and coffee could remedy some of that. He made a noise of consent, before asking a dark-haired nurse if the boy sleeping on the chair had been there all night.

"He's been here all weekend," she said, walking away with a clipboard. Mr. Martin went to get the coffee, and I studied the boy with the buzz-cut hair and balloon cord wrapped around his hand. Her boyfriend?

Some part of me reveled in the fact that my cousin even had a boyfriend – I pretty much hadn't talked to a boy my age unless he sat in the register of the supermarket, and even then I managed to make a complete fool of myself.

The boy started to move about, waking up probably, and I momentarily panicked what to do with myself. I looked desperately for Mr. Martin or even Aunt Natalie, as he struggled with the balloon when sitting up.

"Uhhh…" He noticed me for the first time, and I hastily put my arms around myself in defense. He pushed himself into a normal sitting position and dragged a hand across his face. "Hi?"

"Mhm," I mumbled, not able to even open my mouth completely. I pushed my slightly curly locks behind my ears several times, cursing its distressed state. I tried to avert my gaze, looking at the ceiling, at the hallway, everywhere but the cute boy trying to catch my eyes.

"Sorry, do I – I've seen you somewhere," he said, pointing at me with his balloon hand. "Do we have Spanish together?"

What? I've never seen him before in my life; that I'm sure of. How could he possibly think he had – oh, wait. Maybe I reminded him of Lydia, his wounded girlfriend that was in the showers right now and your cousin that you should not be betraying by thinking of her boyfriend as cute.

"It's Spanish, right? You have Mrs Garcia too?" He nodded pleased with himself, standing up and straightening out his clothes. "You're a friend of Lydia's?" Something about his tone indicated surprise. He started to walk towards me, but stopped when I scrambled backwards.

"Uhh, it's just that I have a pretty good recollection of her clique – I mean there's Allison, Jennifer, Lavender and that one blond girl I never remember the name of – I just don't think I've seen you with her before." The boy scratched his neck, tilting his head to look at me.

Stop looking at me; stop looking at me, oh mother what do I-

"I'm Stiles, by the way. I play for the Beacon Hills Lacrosse team, well, I don't actually play, but I'm on the team," he held his non-ballooned hand to his flat abdomen when introducing himself. "I made first line, buuut…there were complications."

What the hell was lacrosse? Why was he still talking? Why couldn't Lydia just finish her shower already?

His eyebrow rose after a few seconds. Why? Why did his eyebrow raise?

"Oh!" I exclaimed, he jumped slightly at the sound. "Oh! You want to know my name?"

"Eeehm, yes?" he ventured, and I cursed myself for acting so weird. I had no people skills. None. Zilch. Nada.

"Imladcus," I stuttered and made a grimace, preparing to start over.

"You're Im-la-"

"No, no. I'm Lydia's cousin." I gave him a strained smile when he suddenly beamed.

"Hi there, Lydia's cousin! I didn't know I had Spanish with Lydia's cousin. I think that would be something I would know, but-"

"We don't have Spanish together, I don't go to Beacon Hills. Well, I do, but I didn't. I mean, I'll probably take French starting tomorrow, I transferred and…"

I was making such a fool out of myself and my cheeks were burning. He still smiled brightly though.

"I didn't even know Lydia had a cousin," he mumbled to himself.

"I didn't know Lydia had a boyfriend," I said, regretting the words the instant they were uttered.

"Well, I…" He scratched his scalp forcibly again. "Sadly, I'm not her boyfriend. Right now, no one is. I'm just a very...concerned friend."

My feelings were torn between feeling suspicious towards this not-boyfriend that spent the entire weekend waiting for my cousin to wake up, and feeling ecstatic that this very cute boy was not my cousin's boyfriend. No, wait; he could still be someone's boyfriend.

Ignoring my excessively loud heartbeat, I gave him a slightly less awkward smile. "I'm Cassandra."

A silence followed, where I tried hard to fight my blush and he started making gestures towards the vending machine, indicating that he was just going to go over there and get away from the weird redheaded girl claiming to be Lydia's cousin.

A scream pierced through the silence though, and my insides turn to ice.

Lydia!

A/N:

So,what do you think? Thank you so much for reading! This is an idea that's been spinning around my head since season one, and further down the road you'll probably recognize elements about Cassie's family inspired by other pieces of work.

I appreciate reviews, positive or negative or just simply a "Read your story, good job!". So please review, and welcome back for the next chapter!