Lydia opted to remain at the hospital. She was the only one that didn't leave the morgue after their meeting had ended.

She just sat there, unmoved, unendingly staring at the wall across from her. If it had a mouth, that wall would have reminded her that she, in fact, had the ability to blink, if ever she desired to, whenever she wanted to.

She had gotten used to the heart wrenching voices, the dreadful nightmares and the heinous visions as part of her abilities, but what she was hearing at that moment, sprung purely out of her memories.

Echos of friends telling her how much they counted on her, how much they trusted her, how smart and capable she was. Right then, she had to admit to herself, she wasn't feeling like she deserved any of those praises. She didn't think she was much of an asset to her friends and loved ones in her state at all.

Looking back at the events, since the beginning of the previous night, she was at a loss from beginning to end, she'd barely been able to keep up with Maylee. Had it not been for Maylee, things would have ended very differently for all of them, and that thought alone terrified her. Sure, the other banshee had over a century of practice on her belt but... Lydia didn't have that. She didn't own a second to waste.

So, she picked her brain, from every side. She rummaged through her own mind, determined to dig something useful out of it. Out of all those years as a banshee, what had she learned? From all the near-death experiences they all went through and barely survived. She was going to find something, even if she had to shake her brain with her own bare hands.

She kept those efforts up until, and as if someone had slapped her across the face, she stood up from her chair at once. She fondled around desperately to find something. Once she did, she ran back to that same table she sat at before, and laid the paper, pen and candle that she'd brought on it.

She lit the candle and set it in front of her, she then held the pen between her fingers and placed her hand on the piece of paper. Breathing deeply, she watched the flame flicker gently, in complete quietude.

She waited and waited, until something finally happened. A slight spaz overcame her arm, there was a span of time where nothing ensued but then, it happened again and again. Her arm jerked erratically across the surface of the white sheet underneath it. Left and right, up and down, the pen left its marks behind every move she made, as she scribbled and jotted away.

The process carried on for only God knew how long, before her arm ceased all movement, allowing Lydia to finally catch her breath. Her gaze eventually broke away from the candle, looking down towards the paper under her hand. Her sight then darted back to the flame, she gazed at the mesmerizing small blaze some more, before inhaling a long one and swiftly blowing the candle out for good.

At first glance, the ink on the paper didn't seem to translate to something significant; it all looked like nothing more than random scratches and scribbles. But once she got off her chair and took a few steps back, she was able to see the bigger picture. She realized that she'd spent an unknown amount of time writing one, single name down: Lorraine.

Lydia frowned; her eyes still glued on her... Art piece. Half wondering, half understanding the reasons that would lead her to transcribe her grandmother's name, during her automatic writing session. As a banshee, in her lifetime, Lorraine Martin had left clues for Lydia to unearth, in order to save hers as well as many peoples' lives. The only way for her to figure what she had on her hands at that moment, was to start somewhere. Somewhere she knew had a great connection to Lorraine.

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It had been years, since she had visited the Martin's lake house. The construction was supposed to be kept in pristine shape in order to be sold, but after the deadpool ordeal, nothing ever came out of it. Upon arrival, Lydia stared at it, then stared at the sky, only to realize that hours had already passed since she'd sat down for the automatic writing; the sun was only an hour away from setting.

The moment she stepped through the front door, she was hit with a feeling of déjà vue. She stood in that living room, reflecting on Liam's first full moon as a werewolf. When she moved down to the basement, she was met by various markings and scratches on the wall, courtesy of Malia from when she was trying to learn control on full moon nights. The soundproofed study on the first floor, held the memories that had her chest clenche itself. The room where she'd heard the first key for the deadpool code. The place that had the strongest connection to her grandmother...

She descended to the boat house near the lake, she stood in place for a while, capturing the entirety of it in her eyes. Thinking about it, she realized that, it also held a special place in her heart. It was where she came to learn that her grandmother was a banshee just like her, that she wasn't the black sheep of the family like she'd believed for so long. She even had a bonus, she learned that her mother, Natalie knew about the supernatural more than she let appear.

She walked around very slowly, allowing her fingertips to graze over random, abandoned objects stacked there, for people to forget about. Her mind went to the thought that, those objects must have had a story of their own once upon a time. She kept on her wonderings and pondering until... She heard faint sounds and noises, creeping towards where she was.

She chose to stay still, to let the sounds shuffle closer in her direction. She had an annoyed expression on her face, she crossed her arms, waiting for whoever it was to show themselves. And when they finally did, she spoke, "I could've killed you, you know?"

"Woah... Okey, sorry, I guess," Mason had his hands up as Corey and Nolan stood behind him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"We saw you leave the hospital alone, in a hurry, you seemed worried about something so, we thought...," he spoke again.

"So, you thought you'd follow me? You think sneaking up on me like that was a good plan? I could have killed you!" she repeated.

"Yeah, why didn't you do that by the way?" said Corey.

"I don't know, I just had this feeling, that whoever you were, you weren't here to hurt me, so I didn't do anything," she said.

The three young men shared an almost identical frown on their faces, but then Nolan spoke, "But, why come here of all places?"

She sighed, and led them back up towards the living room, where they sat so she could explain the reasons that had brought her back to that house. She handed the piece of paper she'd previously used in the morgue, to Mason.

"What's... This?" asked Corey, sitting on the couches' armrest, he had a perfect view on the sheet.

Mason seemed to have caught on to what she expected from him. He laid the paper on the table in front of them before sitting back in his previous position, "Lorraine?" he asked.

"My grandmother," said Lydia.

"You used that hypnosis technic, didn't you?" Mason asked again.

"It triggered my automatic writing ability, and this is what I came out of it with," she said.

"You think this place is going to give you whatever you're looking for?" said Nolan.

"Well, this place was built by Lorraine; not to mention, this is where the whole deadpool thing started, but it also is where it all ended so, I figured...," she trailed off.

"No, I understand, if there's any place that is more likely to give you answers about Lorraine, it's this house," said Mason.

"Did you find anything?" Corey had gotten up and started fondling some of the furniture around the room.

"So far, nothing," she admitted, an air of defeat invading her features.