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3RD PERSON POV

Stiles rushed to the fallen bodies of the two girls, falling to his knees as Peter crouched over them. A rivulet of Mary Anne and Lydia's mixed blood ran down his chin as he covered their bodies almost protectively.

"Don't kill her," Stiles pleaded, his breathing shaky as his heart hammered against his chest. The sight of the girl he'd loved since the third grade, who confessed her love for him only minutes ago, blood covering her rapidly paling skin, breathing turning shallow, frightened him. He could feel the fear and anxiety in the marrow of his bones, it was so strong. "Please."

"Of course not," Peter said softly. "Just tell me how to find Derek."

"What?" Stiles asked unevenly.

"Tell me how to find Derek Hale," Peter repeated slowly, running a claw down Mary Anne's temple to her cheek. It pained Stiles to see Mary Anne in such a precarious state, wanting nothing more than to take his girlfriend into his arms and hope that it was all a dream, even the confession, if it meant that she was safe.

"I don't know that. How would I know that?" He asked, on the verge of tears.

"Because you're the clever one, aren't you?" Peter countered. "And because deception has a particularly acrid scent, Stiles. Tell me the truth. Or I will rip them apart, starting with your girlfriend."

"Look... Look, I don't know, okay. I swear to God, I have no idea," he tried to convince Peter, growing desperate.

"Tell me!" Peter roared angrily, voice resonating slightly.

"Okay, okay, okay, look, I..." Stiles trailed off. "I think he knew..."

"Knew what?" Peter asked shortly, quickly losing his patience with the teenage boy.

"Derek, I think he... I think he knew he was gonna be caught," Stiles explained, his voice continuing to shake.

"By the Argents?" Peter questioned.

"Yes."

"And?"

"When they were shot, he and Scott, I think he took Scott's phone," Stiles said, keeping his eyes on Mary Anne. He couldn't lose her, not the second woman in his life that he loved.

"Why?" Peter cocked his head.

"They all have GPS now. So if he still has it and if it's still on..." Stiles shifted his eyes to Peter's. "You can find him."

☾

Stiles remained on the ground, staring at the unconscious body of his girlfriend as Peter stood and wiped the blood off his chin with a napkin from his pocket.

"No... I'm not just letting you them here," Stiles protested firmly, finding his voice after moments of silence.

"You don't have a choice, Stiles," Peter said. "You're coming with me."

"Just kill me." He was babbling, growing more desperate. "Look, I don't care anymore."

Peter placed his claws beneath his chin, forcing Stiles to raise up on his feet and look at the Alpha in the eye. "Call your friend," Peter permitted. "Tell Jackson where she is. That's all you get."

Stiles noticed immediately how he said 'she', not 'them'. "You're only allowing one of them?" Stiles asked incredulously, disgust dripping over his words.

"I can't part from Mary Anne so soon. Besides, I haven't seen her since she was a little girl," Peter explained, as if it was so obvious. Anger boiled in the pit of Stiles' stomach at his callousness and disregard for the lives he ruined by his own desire for power and revenge. But he pulled out his phone with trembling hands, dialing Jackson's number as Peter crouched down to the blonde, stroking her cheek and making Stiles' ire rise as he watched, biting down on his tongue to keep himself from yelling at him.

Stiles made the call as Peter plucked Mary Anne up from the ground, one arm hooked under the back of her knees and the other around her back, easily holding the tiny girl as he walked away from Stiles, whose eyes were trained on the swaying blonde hair.

He reminded himself this was for her, to save her, as he pushed down his rage and anxiety.

☾

The tension in the jeep as Stiles drobe with Peter next to him and his girlfriend laying in the back was so thick that not even a knife could cut through it. The bleeding had slowed down but her breathing was still shallow. His worry was eating at him, eyes flickering to the rearview mirror to look at her, feeling more helpless than ever.

He somehow knew that she'd heal, but he was still scared out of his mind. How could he not be? Would any person not worry when their loved one could possibly die?

"Don't feel bad," Peter broke the silence. "If she lives, she'll unlock the powers she was born with. She'll be incredibly powerful." There wasn't an ounce of remorse in his voice, he wasn't sorry at all for biting her.

"Yeah, and once a month, she'll go out of her freaking mind and try to tear me apart," Stiles bit out, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

"Well, actually, considering that she's a woman... Twice a month," Peter corrected, turning his head to look at the teenager who had an expression full of disbelief. "Turn here," he ordered, clearing his throat.

Stiles did what he was told and turned into a parking garage, eyes continuing to flit to the rearview mirror to check on Mary Anne. When he stopped the jeep and parked, as he got out Peter grabbed his shoulder and dragged him roughly to a car over from his, letting go of his shirt to take a set of keys from his pocket.

"Whose car is this?" Stiles asked, curious and fearing the answer at the same time. He didn't want to be here, he wanted to be with Mary Anne at the hospital where she'd get help. But he couldn't.

"It belonged to my nurse," Peter answered, unlocking the trunk.

"What happened to your nur–oh, my God!" Stiles exclaimed, eyes widening at the dead body of the nurse lying there.

Peter moved her arm and snatched the satchel from the dead woman's arms, unaffected by the woman he killed, shoving it into Stiles' chest. "I got better," Peter said, voice void of any emotion, and closed the trunk.

Stiles watched as the older man took the bag from him, placing it on the trunk and opening it. "Good luck getting a signal down here," Stiles said, the Alpha then handing him a little black device. "Oh, mifi. And you're a Mac guy. Does that go for all werewolves, or just a personal preference?" He asked sarcastically, reverting to his normal self-defense tactics to not let the emotions coursing through his body to overwhelm him.

Peter glared at the teen, not amused. "Turn it on. Get connected," he ordered.

Stiles sighed. "You know, you're really killing the whole werewolf mystique thing here. Look, you still need Scott's username and password, and I'm sorry, but I don't know them."

"You know both of them," Peter said flatly.

"No, I don't," Stiles lied. It was his best friend, he had a key to his house, of course he knew it. But he didn't want Peter to succeed in his mission, trying to delay what he knew deep down was the inevitable.

"Even if I couldn't hear your heartbeat, I would still be able to tell that you're lying."

"Dude, I swear to God," Stiles snapped, a tiny shout of pain leaving his lips as Peter grabbed the back of his neck and slammed the side of his face down onto the trunk.

"I can be very persuasive, Stiles. Don't make me persuade you," Peter warned.

He let go of Stiles who exhaled shakily, but to avoid any more pain, he did as he was instructed to do, typing on the computer. The quicker he got that done the quicker he could get back to Mary Anne take her to a hospital. "What happens after you find Derek?" Stiles asked.

"Don't think, Stiles," Peter countered, annoyed. "Type."

He closed his eyes briefly before daring to ask another question. "You're gonna kill people, aren't you?"

"Only the responsible ones," Peter answered, as if it condoned murder.

Stiles inhaled sharply. "Look, if I do this, you have to promise to leave Scott out of it," he tried to bargain.

Peter was silent for a second before responding. "Do you know why wolves hunt in packs? It's because their favored prey are too large to be brought down by one wolf alone. I need Derek and Scott. I need both of them."

"He's not gonna help you," Stiles deadpanned, knowing his best friend was too good at heart to do what Peter wanted.

"Oh, he will," Peter said, so sure of himself. "Because it'll save Allison. You will, because it will save Scott and Mary Anne, whose heartbeat is slowing down by the minute. And you know your best friend so well, you even have his username and password." Stiles let out a trembling sigh, fingers tapping against the keys as he typed in the username first. Peter furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he saw what they were. "His username is 'Allison'?" He asked incredulously, more annoyed when Stiles typed in the password. "His password is also 'Allison'?" He gave Stiles a look.

"Still want him in your pack?" Stiles asked, turning his head to raise an eyebrow at him. The screen started to load and soon, a map of where the GPS located Scott's phone appeared on the screen. His eyebrows knitted in utter confusion at the sight, wondering if his muddled mind was playing tricks on him. "Wait, what the... That's where they're keeping him? At his own house?"

"Not at it," Peter corrected him, closing the laptop and sliding it back into the satchel. "Under it. I know exactly where that is." Then a faint roar reached their ears, from somewhere distant. "And I'm not the only one." Peter went to the side of the car and placed the satchel in the back seat, turning as another roar echoed through the garage. Turning back to Stiles, he demanded, "Give me your keys."

Stiles sighed and dug into his pants pocket, handing it to Peter. "Careful. She grinds in second." However, Peter bent his keys and held it out to give it back to him. Stiles took it, glaring at it. "So you're not gonna kill me?" Stiles blurted out as Peter strode to the driver's door, dropping his arm, stepping back when he advanced towards him. "Okay, I..."

"Don't you understand yet?" Peter tutted. "I'm not the bad guy here."

"You turn into a giant monster with red eyes and fangs, and you're not the bad guy here?" Stiles questioned in disbelief.

"I like you, Stiles," Peter stated. "Since you've helped me, I'm going to give you something in return. Do you want the bite?"

"What?" Stiles asked after a second of silence, eyes going to the ground but then snapping towards Peter, wide and curious.

"Do you want the bite?" Peter repeated slowly, voice growing persuasive. "If it doesn't kill you... And it could... You'll become like us."

Stiles was silent for a moment, mind racing a mile a minute and unable to focus on one thought. Did he want the bite? Would it make Mary Anne love him more? Would he be able to relate to them? Would he be able to protect her better if he was a werewolf?

"Like you," Stiles started.

"Yes, a werewolf," Peter finished. "Would you like me to draw you a picture." He stepped forward, closer to Stiles. "That first night in the woods, I took Scott because I needed a new pack. It could've easily been you. You'd be as every bit as powerful as him, almost as powerful as Mary Anne. No more standing by his side, watching him become stronger, and quicker, more popular, watching him get the girl. You'd be equals. Or maybe more." Peter grabbed Stiles' wrist, lifting it to his mouth. "Yes or no?"

His mind went to Mary Anne, in the back of his jeep and unconscious, her own bite carved into her shoulder. She would be turning once or twice a month against her will, be subjected to pain and go crazy, primal. He knew that she wanted to use her abilities she already had to help Scott, but what if she couldn't control her new ones? She'd probably try to kill someone and regret it for the rest of her life if she ever did. It was just who she was, she would fight someone but she wouldn't kill someone intentionally. Did he want that? To go through that?

He jerked his arm away when Peter went to sink his fangs into him, realizing the consequences of becoming a werewolf would bring. "I don't wanna be like you," he spat out angrily, firm in his decision, despite his previous hesitation.

"Do you know what I heard just then?" Peter asked. "You're heart beating slightly faster over the words 'I don't want'. You may believe that you're telling me the truth, but you are lying to yourself. Goodbye, Stiles."

He backed away as Peter got in the car and pulled out of the spot, his eyes following the retreating car. He stood there for a moment before turning around and rushing towards the jeep, sliding into the driver's seat and moving the passenger seat down so he could reach Mary Anne. Her skin was like pure snow, making the bold red of her lipstick stand out even more, the blood on her shoulder dry, blood no longer flowing out od her as heavily as before, but she still needed to go to the hospital. Even if she were to heal on her own, he couldn't take the risk.

Leaning over her, he slipped his arm under her back and the back of her knees, slowly lifting her up and towards him, as gently as he could as to not jostle her even more than the jeep did. When she whimpered, he carefully sat back in the seat and watched her. "Stiles," she muttered faintly, eyes cracking open a fraction.

"Shh, baby," Stiles hushed her, pressing his lips to her cold forehead, slowly moving out the car without hurting her and using his shoulder to shut the door. "You're gonna be okay."

She had to be okay, otherwise, he'd go out of his freaking mind.

☾

Stiles rushed through the elevator, trying not to stumble with Mary Anne's unconscious body in his arms. On the way to the hospital, she passed out again, her chest barely moving. He came to an abrupt stop as his dad stepped in front of him, anger evident on his face, not noticing the girl in his son's arm as he ranted angrily.

"You know what? It's a good thing that we're in a hospital because I'm gonna– Oh, God, what the hell happened?" He cut himself off, finally seeing Mary Anne.

His eyes fell on the closed ones of his girlfriend as his father started to yell for help. He wasn't worried about being in trouble with his father, he was worried that he might lose the only girl he'd ever loved. A girl he'd known from nursery school, one who literally forgot about him for nearly nine years, and finally noticed him. A girl who actually loved him back, a guy who'd been in love with her since the third grade.

"I lost the keys to my jeep," he breathed out, keeping his eyes on her as they filled with tears, joining the light sweat running down his temple and cheeks from running to the hospital. "I had to run all the way here."

His eyes remained on his girl as a male nurse rushed over to them, carefully taking the girl from his slack arms and placing her on a stretcher. They followed her as they wheel her away down the hall while yelling for a doctor, not looking away until she was no longer in his sight.

"Stiles, I don't care!" Sheriff yelled, gathering his ire towards his son once more.

"Is she gonna be okay?" Stiles choked out, not hearing what his father said, everything hitting him all at once. The fear of losing her, the pain of everything that went down in such a short period of time. He already lost one important female in his life, he couldn't lose another.

"I don't know," Sheriff honestly replied, his anger vanishing at the sight of his son close to tears over the youngest Archer. Turning his head to where Lydia's room was, he turned his head back to Stiles. "Did you see what attacked her? Either of them?"

Stiles shook his head, remembering Lydia was attacked as well. "Why? What's going on?" He was mildly concerned for the strawberry blonde, knowing she was Mary Anne's best friend. If she made it, and Lydia didn't, she was going to be heartbroken.

"Something's going on with her, and they don't know what to do, partially because they don't know what happened. She lost a lot of blood, like Mary Anne, but there's something else going on with her."

"What do you mean?" Stiles asked, curiosity piqued.

"The doctors say it's like she's having an allergic reaction. Her body keeps going into shock," Sheriff explained.

Stiles dropped his eyes to the ground, fearing that it would happen to Mary Anne. He didn't know what was going to happen to her if her body were to accept the bite or not, and it was scaring the hell out of him.

"What if it happens to Mary Anne?" He whispered thickly, a lump of emotions lodged in his throat.

The Sheriff sighed and placed a hand on his son's shoulder, making him look up at him. "Then you'll be there for her," he said, squeezing his shoulder. "She seems like a strong girl, she'll get through it."

Stiles let one tear slip, and he didn't bother brushing it away. "I can't lose her, Dad," he rasped, trying not to break down.

"You won't," Sheriff promised firmly.

"I hope not," Stiles murmured, his heart hammering almost painfully against his ribs in anxiety and dread.

Please don't leave me, Mary Anne. Please.

☾

The battle was fought after Mary Anne was brought to the hospital. Kate Argent got her throat slashed by Peter who, in turn, got his throat slashed by Derek, the new Alpha. She was stabilized, surprisingly well after losing so much blood and was looking at a full recovery. Unbeknownst to the doctors, her body was healing quicker than the average human, the skin slowly stitching together at the edges of the bite wound.

Stiles and Scott sneaked into her room, intending to check the wound to see if she was going to be what Peter called her, a hybrid. They crouched on the floor, Stiles sliding to the door on his behind.

"Shut the door," Scott whispered. Stiles grabbed the handle and started to close it, resulting in the door creaking loudly, stopping at the sound. "Oh, God," Scott muttered as Stiles continued to slowly shut the door, despite the creaking and making both boys cringe. Finally, Stiles closed the door and flipped the lock, falling back against the door.

"What?" Stiles asked quietly, seeing the look Scott was giving him.

They stood and walked over to Mary Anne's side, her eyes closed and skin still pale, lips now almost as pale as her skin, a nasal cannula wrapped around her face. Stiles sighed at the sight, still worried that something bad was going on with her, but hoped for the best. Scott gently slipped the shoulder of her hospital gown down to expose the slightly bloody gauze, making Stiles look away as his stomach went queasy at the sight. He slowly peeled back a corner of the bandage, brows furrowing in pure confusion.

"Is it completely healed?" Stiles asked.

"Almost," Scott responded.

Stiles snapped his head at him and looked down at the wound, seeing the size of it. It was already healing, the bite slightly smaller than it was when he saw it moments after it was inflicted onto her. "I don't get it. The doctors said she'd be fine, not that she's healing like that," Stiles said, confused as well.

"Yeah, but the bite's not healing as fast as it did with me," Scott explained it to the best of his ability. "Which means... There's a chance she's not a werewolf, but whatever she's mixed with... It might be able to heal like I do."

"Then what the hell is she?"

☾

Season 1 is over! Finally!

Now we all know that Mary Anne is a Hybrid, but you don't know what of. She could be a million other things similar to what Scott is, but I won't confirm anything for now.

Void_Stiles_is_Life xx