☾

After finding Lydia, I've been on high alert. What she said freaked me out. If it probably wasn't for Stiles getting to me in time, I've might have jumped out the window as well, clothes be damned. And tonight is the full moon, so like the last full moon, my senses are up to twenty, but I it's different this time. My 'powers' are triggered and stronger now, changing everything.

Stiles tried convincing me that I'm not going to turn into a psycho and kill someone, but it didn't do me any good. I love him to death, honestly, but I just need to accept the fact that I could turn into a murderous werewolf-something hybrid tonight. Hopefully, it doesn't happen even though the chances of it actually happening is high, and I can figure out what I am without losing control of it.

What I don't get is things that I already know don't add up. My eyes glow, one green, the other gold, I have enhanced senses, I can heal and yet I still have a faint bruise on my neck from Stiles, and that I'm a hybrid of a werewolf and something else. What if I'm the first of my kind, the first of this particular type of hybrids, and the unknown part of me isn't something most people don't know about, or is nearly extinct?

I hate the idea of not knowing things, which is the reason why I've accumulated all this knowledge and facts and continue to, so I know everything that is going on. Not knowing what I am exactly is killing me. What's killing me even more is the fact that my parents were supernatural creatures. I don't know which one was a werewolf and the other is the unknown species that I'm still trying to figure out.

For my whole life, I've idealized them, even after they died. I learned Bulgarian to honor my mother, learned how to play the guitar to honor my father. I strive to do my best to make them both proud. And to learn that my parents weren't who they said they were? Well, that can change someone.

Also, my sister has been avoiding me lately. Always working late and trying to shut down any conversation about what happened to me the night of the dance or my parents. The idea that Stiles suggested about her taking my memories of him, Scott and anything else I might've known about the supernatural before our parents died, is becoming more plausible.

Nessa's raised me since she got custody of me when I was ten from my grandmother, and if she knows what I am, not bothering to come clean and give me back my memories, is horrible. And what I am is genetic, that means it's more than likely that Nessa is the same thing as me and she can help me. However, she isn't helping.

I'm slowly starting to question everything; my past, family, myself. The only thing I'm sure of is my friends and Stiles, things that seem to be the most important things to me lately.

Speaking of friends, Allison picked me and Lydia up this morning, actually putting my mind off of the subject. But then the subject of Lydia running around the woods naked for two days came up when the brunette asked her about it.

"You really don't remember anything?" Allison asks as we walk towards the entrance, our eyes glued to the strawberry blonde who's dressed a little provocatively this morning. A short plum dress that hugs her curves and purple heels, making her a tad bit taller.

"They call it a fugue state, which is basically a way of saying 'We have no idea why you can't remember running through the woods naked for two days'," Lydia answers, turning around to face us. "But personally, I don't care. I lost nine pounds."

I snort while shaking my head a little, Lydia's the only one who could make a situation where she was running through the woods buck-ass naked into a good one by losing nine pounds.

"Are you ready for this?" Allison asks.

"Please," Lydia says, confident. "It's not like my aunt's a serial killer."

She turns and opens the door, leaving Allison and I standing there, stunned at what she said. We turn our heads towards each other at the same time, her face showing disbelief and I just shrug. "I've told you before that Lydia can be pretty abrasive, but you'll get used to it."

With that we follow her into the school with Allison and I flanking her, everyone in front of us stopping to stare at the three of us. Or rather, Lydia. All of her confidence vanishes, her unease clear from her chemosignals. Anxiety is particularly pungent, something I noticed, and it's clear on her face.

"Maybe it's the nine pounds," I whisper to her, hoping to boost her confidence again. Lydia flicks her hair and she struts away, the determined and independent Lydia Martin back in full swing. Allison and I follow her but half-way I part from them, saying I promised to watch Stiles at morning practice. When I get outside to the field, my stomach starts twisting at the memory of being here the night of the dance, but I push it away as I see Scott alone on the bench, Stiles nowhere to be seen.

"Scott?" I ask, catching his attention as I sit next to him on the bench. "Where's Stiles? Is something wrong?"

"There's another werewolf on the team," he says a little quietly. "It's like a scent, but I couldn't tell who it was coming from."

Wait, did say he scent?

Just then Stiles comes running towards us and sits on the other side of Scott, holding the goalie stick. "I told Coach you're switching with Danny for the day," he informs him, shifting to smile briefly at me. "Hey, babe."

"But I hate playing goal," Scott objects.

"Remember when I said I had an idea?" Stiles asks. "This is the idea."

"Oh," Scott says a little dumbly.

"There we go," Stiles smiles but Scott looks adorably confused.

"What's the idea?"

I narrow my eyes at him; how has he survived this long?

"I seriously don't understand how you survive without me sometimes," Stiles deadpans and grabs Scott to talk while Coach blows the whistle.

"Let's go! Line it up!" He yells and just as Stiles gets up he leans down to peck my cheek, a smile forming on my face as he runs towards the other players. "Faster! Make daddy proud."

I raise my eyebrow at Coach but he doesn't see me. This man can be loud and scary, but you have to admit, he's pretty funny.

He blows the whistle and throws the ball into number eighteen's stick, and I cover my eyes as Scott runs out of the goal to tackle him, most likely smelling him. Oh, my Gods, this is a terrible plan! It's stupid and obvious that we're trying to do something.

"Let me help you up," Scott says, seeing him help the dude up through the cracks of my fingers.

"McCall! Usually, the goalie stays somewhere within the vicinity of the actual goal," he says with a sardonic smile.

"Yes, Coach," Scott says before going back to the goal and I know that he's gonna do it again. Why am I here, again? It seems that I'm just experiencing second-hand embarrassment.

"Let's try it again," Coach says and blows the whistle, throwing the ball into the mesh netting of number eight's stick, Matt's. This guy again?

Like before, Scott runs out of the goal and trips Matt by the legs, my jaw going slack in astonishment. Okay, now that was awesome. "What the hell, man?" Matt asks angrily after Scott sniffed him. Never have I ever thought that I'd think of that sentence.

"My bad, dude," Scott apologizes, running back to goal.

"McCall! The position's goalkeeper. Not goal abandoner," Coach scolds sarcastically. He and Stiles are the funniest and most sarcastic males I have ever met, it's seriously unreal.

Another guy gets tackled, my head falling as I groan. There has to be a better way of figuring out who the other werewolf is.

"Stilinski," Coach starts, making me look up to see him holding the metal bars of Stiles' helmet to pull him a little closer to him, "what the hell is wrong with your friend?"

He's a werewolf and we're trying to find the other one on the team. And his girlfriend's family wants them to stay apart and if that doesn't happen they'll kill him.

"Uh, he's failing two classes. He's a little socially awkward and if you look close enough, his jaw line's kind of uneven," Stiles answers, making me chuckle which I try to suppress. Well, we both have credible answers.

"That's interesting," Coach intones quietly, letting go of Stiles. His eyes connect with mine across the field and I can see him shrug at my questioning gaze.

Danny's up next and the idea of Scott potentially hurting him again makes me frown. "Let's fire it up," Coach says, tossing the ball into his mesh netting.

And again, he gets tackled like everyone else. I don't bother to listen, not finding this at all amusing. But it's hard not to notice Coach's voice. "McCall! You come out of that goal one more time and you'll be doing suicide runs till you die. It'll be the first ever suicide run that actually ends in a suicide. Got it?" He threatens.

"Yes, Coach," Scott repeats what he said earlier, back in goal.

Jackson's next, his fear wafting through the air. Oh, I'd pay good money to see this and it's happening! Yes! But then, Jackson decides to be a coward. "Uh, Coach, my shoulder's hurting. I'm gonna... I'm gonna sit this one out."

When he starts to walk away, my attention is drawn to number fourteen who's right in front of Stiles, his shoulders heaving as growl-like pants leave his lips. Wait, he's growling. My eyes widen as I realize it's him, he's the other werewolf.

They have a stare-down as Coach blows the whistle for the fifth or sixth time, or something, and tossed the ball to him and he catches, both starting to run and they collide, ending in front of each other on their knees.

The whistle is blown but my attention goes to a radio, my head turning to see Mr. Stilinski and two deputies on the field, approaching the two werewolves.

"Don't tell them," the other werewolf pleads quietly. "Please don't tell them."

They get up and while the other werewolf talks to the police with Coach next to them, Scott and I listen in.

"His father's dead," Scott says and I finish.

"They think he was murdered."

Mr. Stilinski takes the tall boy's shoulder and turns him away. "Come on."

"Are they saying he's a suspect?" Stiles asks.

"I'm not sure, why?" Scott responds.

"Because they can lock him in a holding cell for twenty-four hours," Stiles and I say in perfect sync, using our knowledge of law enforcement to our advantage.

"Like, overnight?" Scott asks without looking away from the scene yards away from us.

"During the full moon," Stiles says.

"How good are these holding cells at holding people?" Scott asks, turning his eyes to his best friend.

"People, good," Stiles answers. "Werewolves, probably not that good."

"Stiles, remember when I said I don't have the urge to maim and kill?" Scott asks, making my stomach churn at the possibility of experiencing that.

"Yeah," Stiles answers.

"He does."

☾

"Why would Derek choose Isaac?" Scott asks Stiles and I. I'm sitting on the other side of Stiles in chemistry, even though the tables are meant for two. Isaac Lahey is the innocent boy Derek chose as his first Beta, turning him into a werewolf. At least he gave him a choice, unlike Peter who bit Scott, Lydia and I without giving us any say in the matter.

"Peter told me that if the bite doesn't turn you it could kill you," Stiles says, my spine crawling at the reminder of Peter and the bite. But I continue to take notes on alkyne, unlike them. "And maybe teenagers have a better chance of surviving."

"Does being a teenager mean your dad can't hold him?" Scott asks.

"Well, not unless they have solid evidence," Stiles answers. "Or a witness. Wait."

I swivel my head around to see what Stiles was doing, his body turned towards the table Danny and Jackson sit at, sans Jackson today.

"Danny," Stiles whispers, catching his attention. "Where's Jackson?"

"In the principal's office talking to your dad," he answers.

"What? Why?" Stiles asks quietly, confused.

"Maybe because he lives across the street from Isaac," Danny deadpans.

Stiles turns back to Scott as the latter says, "Witness."

Oh, this is so not good.

"We gotta get to the principal's office," Stiles says.

"How?" Scott and I ask at the same time.

"Everyone please turn to page seventy-three," Harris' dull voice rings out, his back to us.

Stiles pokes his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he rips out a page from his notebook, balling it up and throwing it, hitting the back of Harris' head with perfect accuracy. Oh, this is a good plan.

Some people laugh at it, the older man spinning around to glare at the room, searching for the culprit. "Who in the hell did that?" He demands.

Scott points at Stiles, I point at my boyfriend while Stiles points at me, innocent looks on our faces.

Mission accomplished.

☾

Us three are now sitting outside the principal's office and Scott and I listen in on the conversation between Mr. Stilinski and Jackass Douchemore.

"Wait, so are you telling me that you knew Isaac's father was hitting him?" Stilinski asks, a little incredulous. If I say so myself, I'm pretty angry, too. You don't stay quiet if you witness child abuse, it's bad form.

"Hitting him? He was kicking the crap out of him," Jackson says, not giving a single care in the world that he admitted to knowing a kid was being physically abused and didn't think it was worth reporting. Fucking prick.

"Did you ever say anything to anyone? A teacher, parents, anyone?"

"Nope. It's not my problem."

A little growl leaves my lips, hands curling into fists. I'm starting to feel the urge to maim and kill someone right now, and that someone is Jackson.

"No, no, of course not," Stilinski says after a long pause. "You know, it's funny that the kids getting beaten up are always the ones who least deserve it."

I bite my lip to suppress a smile, knowing what he was really saying. I love the Sheriff, he's freakin' awesome.

"Yeah. Wait, what?"

"I think we're done here," Stilinski avoids the question. Then he walks out the office and Stiles flails around in his seat, trying and failing to hide from his father behind a magazine. He sighs at his son and instead greets Scott and I. "Hi, Scott. Mary Anne."

We smile at him, watching as he walks down the hall and away from us when my back stiffens at an eerily recognizable voice.

"Boys. And girl."

Our heads turn at the same time, seeing Gerard Argent smiling at us. Oh, hell no.

"Come on in," he says, maintaining his smile. We follow him into the office and I sit in between the two boys, avoiding his eyes as he reads our files and speaks to us at the same time. "Scott McCall. Academically not the most accomplished, but I see you have become quite the star athlete." He picks up another file. "Mary Anne Archer," Gerard says, prompting me to look at him. "Perfect grades, 5.0 GPA, but very little extracurricular activities, none, actually. Why is that?" He asks.

"I don't really like being in social situations," I partially lie, lacing my fingers together in my lap and twiddle my thumbs. "I get anxious."

He nods once, eyes a little skeptical but then he turns his attention to my boyfriend on my right. "Mr. Stilinski. Oh, like Ms. Archer, perfect grades but little to no extracurriculars. Maybe you should try lacrosse."

"Oh, actually I'm already-" Stiles begins to correct but then he cuts him off. Poor Stiles. Instead of trying to correct him anymore, he reaches over to unlace my fingers to fiddle with them, tangling and untangling them and tracing patterns along the back of it. It's something he does often when we're not holding each other's hands, just messing with mine since, and I quote, "They're so tiny, and yet, they fit perfectly with mine."

"Hold on. McCall. You're the Scott that was dating my granddaughter."

My eyes widen, my heart skipping a beat. Oh shit, this is bad.

"We were dating but not anymore," Scott says awkwardly. "Not dating, not seeing any of each other or doing anything with each other... At all."

"Relax, Scott, you look like you're about to crack a cyanide pill with your teeth."

"Just a hard breakup."

"Oh, that's too bad." His voice rings with false remorse, making me when more suspicious of the old man. "You seem like a pretty nice kid to me." Yeah, nice. He would be if he doesn't learn that he's the werewolf that's shagging his granddaughter. "Now, listen guys. Yes, I am the principal, but I really don't want you to think of me as the enemy." Too late for that.

"Heh, is that so?" Stiles asks, continuing to play with my fingers, eyes on the old geezer.

"However, this being my first day, I do need to support my teachers. So, unfortunately, two of you is going to have to take the fall and stay for detention." Silence falls upon us as Gerard fixes his eyes on Stiles and I and I know that Scott is looking at us as well. "How about the happy couple?"

I turn my head to glare at Scott, but we accept nonetheless.

Fuck you, Gerard Argent.

☾

"Hey, sorry, Harris literally just let us out of detention. Literally. And he had our phones the whole frickin' time." Stiles apologizes to Allison through the phone which was on speaker as we rush for his jeep, now dark out. I can't be here, I'm gonna turn soon and I can't hurt Stiles if I do indeed turn like we suspect. Most likely as I'm already starting to feel... Different. It's hard to explain, but I literally feel different.

"Well, we need to do something right now," Allison responds. "They were asking me all these questions about Lydia and Mary Anne and how they were bitten by Peter, and they sent this guy out."

"Wait, what guy?" Stiles asks.

"He was dressed as a Sheriff's deputy."

"They're sending him to the station for Isaac," Stiles realizes.

"He was also carrying this box with something on it, like, um, like a carving or something."

"What was it?" He asks.

"Hold on, hold on. It's in one of these books. I'm taking a picture of it now."

The phone beeps and Stiles pulls it away to see the picture, the purple flower giving it away. Aconite, or rather, wolfsbane. He's gonna kill Isaac, and he's gonna use wolfsbane to do so.

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah, wolfsbane," I speak up, dread coloring my voice.

"What does that mean?"

"It means they're gonna kill him," Stiles answers, eyes flickering towards mine. He hangs up and we get into the jeep, him starting it up. "How are you feeling? Feeling any... Bloodlust?" He asks as we pull out of the spot. "Because I can drop you off at home and you can protect yourself."

"All I feel is anger," I say flatly. "Anger towards Peter for doing this to me, for Isaac choosing to become a werewolf, for Derek becoming an Alpha. And if I did feel any bloodlust, you'd know."

It's awkward silence after that until Stiles calls Allison again after a while, putting her on speaker. "Hey, did you slow him down?" He asks.

"You could say that."

"All right, well, uh, I'm headed to the station right now," Stiles states.

"Where's Scott?"

"Isaac's."

"Does he have a plan?"

"Yeah, but not a very good one. And unfortunately, we don't really have time to come up with anything better."

He hangs up and puts the phone away, my eyes glued to the windshield, the reflection of the moon taunting me. It feels like I was back in my dream I had the night the bus driver was killed; I feel powerful. But then my heart starts to beat wildly, palms growing sweaty, pants leaving my lips, squeezing my eyes shut. Pain surges through me, every nerve ending firing while heat floods my body.

"Mary Anne?" Stiles asks frantically. "What's happening? Are you turning?"

His question is answered when my body lurches forward, hands slamming against the dashboard and my nail beds start to ache, claws slowly replacing my nails.

"I'm sorry," I bite out, undoing my seat belt.

"What are you talking about?" Stiles asks with wide eyes, switching them from me to the road repeatedly.

I don't answer, instead, I open the door and jump out the moving car, my name leaving his lips in a shout as roll across the street harshly, wounds stitching together and healing quickly. The sound of his tires coming to a screeching halt makes me take off into the woods, thankful that he was driving past them.

"Mary Anne!"

I run through the woods until I can't anymore, collapsing onto my knees as screams of pain leave my lips. My spine shifts, canines grow into fangs, and a loud growl leaves my lips. I hunch over, pants and growls erupting from my chest as I struggle to control the bloodlust coming over me, rage and power consuming me. Red covers my vision, my brow ridging, hair growing from below my hairline next to my ear and ending at my jawline, the tips of my ears lengthening into points. A somewhat loud roar erupts from my throat, rising from deep within my chest that rattles my ribs. I can feel everything that is happening to me.

My body rises involuntarily, lips curling up as I feel invincible. Everything is heightened; touch, hearing, sight, taste, scent. Everything is better.

I inhale through my nose deeply, catching a familiar scent. Woodsy cologne and mint. Stiles. From the plaid shirt I'm wearing, one I stole from his room.

Pictures flash through my mind, from when I first saw him on the first day, when we met, when we danced at the party, our first kiss together, telling him I loved him at the formal, waking up in the hospital and him being right there. Everything.

"I'm Stiles."

"Mary Anne."

"Hey, Mary Anne. You probably don't remember me, from the party the other night. Um, I also sit behind you in Biology. Uh, anyway, I always thought that we just had this kind of connection. Unspoken, of course. Maybe it'd be kind of cool to, get to know each other a little better."

"I really do want to get to know you, Mary Anne."

"And I want to get to know you."

"I don't want to get hurt."

"Mary Anne, I knew you when we were kids, but you forgot about us when your parents died. I don't blame you. I know what you've gone through, and I can't imagine causing you even more pain. Mare, I've had a crush on you since the third grade, I want nothing more than to be with you."

"Then be patient with me. I want the same thing, and I don't want to rush into things because that can destroy it. But, I will start a relationship with you, as I do want to be with you, as well. We just, have to take it slow, okay?"

"Then, will you, Mary Anne Talia Archer, do me the greatest honor of being my girlfriend? I'll do the whole slow thing if it means I get the chance to be with you."

"I'd love to."

"How are you still so calm?"

"My mother taught me to keep a strong appearance in the face of imminent danger, to always show bravery. But I'm freaking out on the inside. I don't want to die, and I don't want anyone else to, either. Stiles, I was so afraid when you went out to get those bolt cutters. I was afraid to lose you, and I know it's kind of irrational, and I know we've only started dating recently, but I cannot lose you. You've become one of the very few people in my life that I care too much about to lose."

"You're not gonna lose me, got that?"

"You look stunning, Mary Anne, and every synonym of the word."

"Thank you. And you look dashing as well."

"Mary Anne, get up, okay? You're gonna dance with me. I don't care that my best friend kissed you for some unknown reason but... Mary Anne, I've had a crush on you since the third grade. And I know that somewhere inside that cold, sardonic exterior there's an actual human soul. The girl I knew when we were kids. And I'm also pretty sure that I'm only one who knows how smart you are. Uh-huh. Especially in science. And that once you're done pretending to be a nitwit, you'll eventually go off and discover something new about the human body that wins you the Nobel Prize."

"For years, I have felt as though I've been missing something. Like I've felt incomplete. When I met you, it all changed. I came here to move on from someone, but I didn't anticipate moving on so fast. It was you who made me move on so quickly. When I met you, I knew you were different from other guys. With you, I feel complete. Like I found the missing puzzle piece. Stiles, you're a guy I've always imagined myself to be with. You're the nerd of my dreams. What I'm trying to say is that you, Stiles Stilinski, have made me fall irrevocably in love with you. I love you, Stiles."

"I love you, too, Mary Anne Talia Archer."

My racing heart slows down, but I become lightheaded, my vision growing dark. I fall to my side, hitting the forest floor harshly, eyes sliding close and only one thought rings through my mind before I black out:

Protect him.

☾

Mary Anne finally turned! What do you think is going on with her when it comes to those protective feelings? Your thoughts are always appreciated.

Void_Stiles_is_Life xx