☾

Stiles and I walk into the cafeteria, hand in hand the day after my break down. He didn't do what I feared would happen afterward; treat me like I'm fragile. Like I'll shatter under the slightest of pressures. He's instead been acting like he always did, like Stiles. Holding my hand like always, giving me inconspicuous kisses on my cheek.

I had poured out everything to him last night which triggered another crying session, but now I feel a little less pressure. I feel... Lighter.

"What happened before all this?" Stiles asks cautiously, rubbing his hand up and down my back. We'd moved to lay comfortably with him on his back, reclined a bit because of my pillows, and me on top of him, legs entwined and my forearms folded on top of his chest, chin resting on them and his eyes looking right into mine.

I chew nervously on the inside of my bottom lip, an anxious habit that has made my lips chapped and split on multiple occasions, but they heal now. My voice never wavers as I start to explain, "Started a couple weeks into the summer after my freshmen year ended. I was in my room, sleeping when I woke up from a nightmare. It was about my parents." My already sore eyes burn at the mention of my parents. "I woke up, crying out and my room was dark, which made me more scared. I had tons of candles in my room, and all at once, they lit up."

"Lit up? As in lighting up randomly without a match?" Stiles asks, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah," I confirm. "They went out a few moments later, and I thought it was just a figment of my imagination. Just excess fear from my nightmare. But then even more things started to happen. I started to wake up at my desk at least once or twice a week, a pencil in hand and tons of papers filled with symbols and phrases. None of which makes any sense except for a few, like the Greek and Bulgarian part of the phrases. There was even Latin. But it just freaked me out. I never told anyone about it."

His eyes glimmer with concern, sympathy and a bit of sadness, his fingers tucking a few strands of my hair behind my ear. "That isn't all of it, is it?"

I shake my head, wanting to be honest with him about this. It's just hard opening up to someone about this, something that makes me sound like a freak. Like I'm insane. But like I said, I need to have faith in Stiles. "Sometimes my hands would burn like someone set them on fire. They were actually bright red. But then moments later they would become colder than ice. And on full moons, I could never sleep, always feeling energetic. It's like I was always a werewolf, but it wasn't triggered yet."

"Well, maybe those are symptoms of your other powers manifesting?"

"Maybe. Whatever I am, though, have glowing green eyes. Like you said, I have one gold and one green. And remember those little moments I have? It first happened when Peter howled that night we were trapped at school, but now it's a bit more frequent. My vision would either go blurry and darken around the edges, maybe even sharpen, but I can never hear anything. Ringing drowns out everything else." I pause, heart stuttering.

"Hey, it's okay, take your time," he murmured, eyebrows furrowing in thought. "Are you scared? Scared we won't figure you out?"

Is he a mind reader, or something? "Is it obvious?"

"You're just an open book to me."

"Well, you're right. I am scared we won't figure this out, and I'll have to find out the hard way or just stumble my way through the dark."

"Hey, don't doubt yourself, or my ability to solve mysteries," he admonishes gently. "We're a few more steps closer to figuring out what you are, and that is great progress." His lips press a lingering kiss to my forehead, whispering, "I won't stop until I figure you out."

My heart flutters at the determination in his voice, but also a little guilt. He shouldn't have to figure this out, it's my problem, my burden to bear. Instead, I push it aside and remember something; Matt asking me out. I have to tell him, I can't keep it from him. "I have something else to tell you," I start slowly, keeping my eyes trained on the wall behind him as he moved his head back to its original position. "Matt asked me out earlier."

His body tenses beneath mine and I instantly berate myself, telling me that this'll end badly. "What?"

I wince. "I was at my locker before lunch when he asked me out. He said he saw us together around school, but thought that what we have wasn't serious, so he thought he'd ask me out on a date."

"And what did you say?"

This time, I don't bother avoiding his eyes, instead, I gaze into those whiskey irises, seeing concern, jealousy, and hope swimming in those deep pools. "I declined, of course. What else would I say?"

He shrugs and it's his turn to avoid my eyes, brushing the back of his fingers along my bicep. "Honestly? I don't know. It just kind of reminds me that you have... Other options."

"Other options," I repeat instantly, eyes furrowing. "What does that mean?"

"You know, other options. Other people that you can choose to be with."

My heart both cracks and clenches at that, knowing he's thinking that I don't truly want to be with him. "Hey," I say, a bit more forceful than how my voice has been for a while, catching his eyes. "I don't have 'other options' because no one catches my eye, not like you did. And I love you, remember? I love you, and no one else."

All the negative emotions fade from his eyes, softening with love and awe. "I know."

A snort escapes me before I can stop it. "Did you just quote Star Wars to me?"

"Uh-huh." He has a hint of mischief in his eyes now.

"Gosh, you're such a dork."

"Yeah, but I'm your dork. We've been over this." I laugh and hide my face in my arms, head shaking as I look back up at him. "I do, though. I really do love you."

"And I you."

My head turns a little and I take a double-take. The table Boyd usually sits at is empty. Wait... Derek but Isaac who was a loner getting abused by his dick of a father. Erica was a loner and being bullied for her disorder. Boyd... Oh no, he's the next Beta. Derek is choosing people with tragic stories and persuading them with the chance of a better life to build a pack.

I stop and tug on Stiles, making him stop and give me a confused expression. "What's wrong?" He asks.

My head jerks towards the table, "What do you notice about that table?"

He cranes his neck a bit to look at it, first confused again but then realization spreads across his face. "Boyd," Stiles says. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

I nod, chewing on my lip as we quickly make our way over to Scott, running into Allison who quickly walks away. Okay, what happened there? You know what... One problem at a time.

"Scott," Stiles says, taking his shoulder with his free hand and then pointing to the table across from the one we're at. "Do you see that?"

"What, it's an empty table," Scott deadpans, not getting it.

"Yeah, but whose empty table?" I insist.

A look of realization spreads across his face and he says, "Boyd."

He instantly gets up and we head out the cafeteria, not bothering with food as Boyd being a potential Beta is on our minds. He shouldn't have to go through this, no one should and yet it was forced upon Scott and me, although mine would've been triggered by my sixteenth birthday apparently.

"I'm going to go the ice rink and see if he's there," Scott tells us as we walk down the hall. "And if he's not at home, you call me, got it?" Stiles doesn't answer, making us stop, Scott and I turned to face him. "What?"

"Maybe we should let him," Stiles says cautiously.

My jaw drops a bit and my eyes narrow at him; how could he say that?

"Boyd, you know, man? You said Derek's giving them a choice, right?" Stiles asks.

Scott takes his arm and I take the other, moving him along. "We can't," we say in unison.

"You gotta admit, Erica looks pretty good," Stiles says carelessly. A pang hits my heart and jealousy flares in me. "You know, the word 'sensational' comes to mind." I clear my throat loudly, catching his attention. His face is blank with fear, realizing his mistake. "But not as beautiful as you, of course," he corrects himself nervously.

"Mmhmm," I hum, still feeling a little jealous.

So not the time for this.

"How good do you think she's gonna look with a wolfsbane bullet in her head?" Scott hisses, ignoring our previous words that we exchanged.

"All right, all I'm saying is maybe this one isn't totally your responsibility," Stiles clarifies.

"They are," Scott says, earning a nod from me. "And you know this thing's gonna get out of control. That makes us," he points to himself and then me, "responsible." As much as I wish it isn't, it is true.

"All right, I'm with you," Stiles decides. "And I also gotta say this newfound heroism is making me very attracted to you." I chuckle, finding his antics mildly amusing.

"Shut up," Scott breathes out, chuckling.

"No, seriously," Stiles says, stopping. "Do you wanna just try making out for a sec? Just to see how it feels." We push Stiles ahead, shaking my head at him.

☾

Stiles and I wasted no time in driving over to Boyd's house, and don't ask me how he knows where he lives. I really don't want to know the answer. We drove silence, him haphazardly parking before we hop out at the same time. He runs up the stairs ahead of me and knocking on the door frantically. "Hey, Boyd?" He says loudly, silent for a moment before moving to knock on the window after getting no response. "Hey, Boyd? It's Stiles."

We turn around in panic, coming face-to-face with the other town blonde werewolf resident. "Oh, wow!" Stiles exclaims in surprise.

Erica smirks and chuckles, her look one of lust and it's directed at Stiles. Oh no, if she's gonna hit on my boyfriend with me right next to him, Stiles won't be able to stop me from clawing her eyes out. I mean, I barely have any control, none really, and anger makes my pulse rise which causes the shift. No one will be able to blame me, really.

"What are you doing here, Stiles?" She asks, blatantly ignoring me.

"Uh, nothing, we were just looking for, um..." Stiles trails off awkwardly.

"Boyd?" Erica supplies.

"Yeah. Yes. Boyd," Stiles nods, eyes on hers and not on her exposed cleavage. Okay, still a little jealous but at least he isn't staring at her there.

"You know what you're doing right now that's kinda funny?" Erica asks. "You're only looking in my eyes."

"That's funny?" Stiles asks.

"Well, yeah," Erica says in a 'duh' tone. "Because it's that kind of look where you're trying not to look anywhere other than my eyes, but you want to, don't you?" She slowly walks closer to my boyfriend, too close for my liking. "You want a nice, long, hard... Look."

I push Erica back a bit with my hands on her shoulders, her eyes on me now with a knowing smirk. She knows she's getting to me, and she knows the way to mess with me is through Stiles. "Take one more step closer to him and I won't hesitate to remove your hands from your arms," I threaten, gritting my teeth together and clenching my jaw tightly. I guess it's the wolf in me, this sudden aggression and need to assert dominance.

"Oh, hi, Mary Anne," Erica smiles innocently, but I just glare scathingly at her.

"I don't care that you're a werewolf, but do not flirt with my boyfriend."

"Not really. No," Stiles answers the other blondes question after taking my hand and pulling me a bit closer to him, by his side, probably to keep me from attacking her.

"Oh," Erica breathes out with false innocence. "So it's just my eyes?"

"Yes," Stiles says. "You have beautiful eyes." He squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back. I hope he's aware of what he's saying because it's hurting me as well as making me jealous. Or territorial. I can't really tell the difference right now. However, I know what he's saying silently as he's squeezing my hand; I don't mean anything that I'm saying.

"I have beautiful everything," she corrects arrogantly.

"And a newfound self-confidence. Congratulations, Erica," Stiles says sarcastically, making me a bit proud. Okay, maybe he isn't attracted to her, which is a huge relief. "We should get going."

He goes to move past her, taking me with him, but Erica stops him with a hand to his chest. I narrow my eyes at her, mentally cursing. If she doesn't get herself a foot away from Stiles. we're gonna have some issues.

"You're not going anywhere," she says.

"Why not?" Stiles asks in a strained voice, face scrunched up as he looks down at the hand on his chest.

Erica holds up a car part, most likely from Roscoe, making my eyes widen. What's with werewolves damaging his car?

"You're having car trouble."

Before I can even stop her, she swings it at Stiles' head and he falls back against the door, quickly doing the same to me. I fall back and my back hits Stiles who doesn't make a sound, my vision going black.

☾

My eyes slowly open, pain radiating throughout my brain as darkness obscures my vision. Another groan of annoyance catches my attention, a body moving and the smell of garbage fills my nose. Then light floods my vision, seeing Stiles next to me and holding his head. And we're in a dumpster. Great, just awesome.

"Bitch," we mutter in unison, his eyes going to me and I look over his head as I struggle to stand.

"You okay?" I ask as he fumbles out, almost falling.

"I'll live," he answers, helping me out by grabbing onto my biceps. "But now we have to find my jeep and call a tow truck."

"I don't get what is with werewolves damaging it," I muse, still very angry about Erica flirting with my boyfriend, knocking us out and tossing us into a dumpster. "Next time I get a chance to, please don't hold me back from beating her up. No one messes with me and the people I love and gets away with it."

"Trust me, I'll be cheering you on."

☾

We had successfully made our way back to Boyd's house to find the jeep and called a tow truck, with me fussing over his head. There isn't really that much of a bruise, but he can have a concussion.

But a concussion isn't what's on his mind right now. It's what the mechanic is doing to Roscoe.

"Hey!" Stiles calls out, weaving his way through the room to get to his car that is in the air on the lift, with me behind him. "Hey? What do you think you're doing? All I needed was a starter."

"It looks like your while exhaust system has got be replaced," the guy says.

"Why do I get the feeling you are slightly overestimating the damage?" Stiles asks rhetorically.

"Probably will run you around $1200 parts and labor," he says, not looking at us. Stiles is crouched a little while I'm just standing next to him, having no need to crouch.

"Are you kidding?" Stiles cries incredulously. "This thing doesn't even have a catalytic converter. And yes, I know what a catalytic converter is."

The guy turns around slightly and looks at us. "Do you know what a limited slip differential is?" He asks. If I wasn't so pissed, I would've answered him. What was even more infuriating, was his eyes shifting over to me and looking up and down my body, winking discreetly. Perv. He's like twenty-four, while I'm fifteen. Seriously this town is just getting better and better. Note my sarcasm, please and thank you.

"No," Stiles answers reluctantly, huffing and looking from me to the older guy, fuming.

"Yeah, coming on more like $1500."

"Okay," Stiles sighs. "Just finish. I will be back here." He takes my hand and we move from beneath the lift, walking back to waiting area. "Seething with potent rage." He goes to touch the doorknob and retracts his hand, his hand covered in clear goo. Ugh, how is this place still up and running with the sanitary issues? And the pervy employees? "Nice," Stiles comments sarcastically. "It's real sanitary. Quality establishment you're running here." He opens the door, despite the goo, and I push the door close without touching the doorknob. It seems to be on both sides. Weird. Stiles wipes his other hand on his jacket and my eyes catch sight of a picture of the guy wearing a Beacon Hills High lacrosse uniform. "Figures," we say in unison. "God, I hate that guy. Even more now that he winked at you."

"Feeling territorial?" I quirk an eyebrow at him. He doesn't answer, instead, he lets go of my hand and takes his phone out of his pocket, trying to move his thumbs but it seems that he can't. What in the hell...

"I can't move my fingers," he breathes out, panicking. The phone falls out of his hand, his fingers trembling. His head moves to look out the window, eyes widening. I furrow my eyebrows and my eyes follow his gaze, my own eyes widening and my heart goes into overdrive with fear. A scaly hand peaks out from the car and lift, translucent white claws tipping the fingers.

"No," Stiles says quietly. "Hey. Hey!"

I can see the creature more clearly now, seeing how large it is. Its claws swipe and cut along the back of the guy's neck and he falls to the ground. "Hey!" Stiles grunts as he falls to the floor. I fall to my knees to make sure he didn't hit his head but he tries to move to his phone on the floor.

The sound of metal moving alarms me, seeing the lift descending with the guy beneath it. Oh no, this can't be happening. I move to stand and reach for the handle, but Stiles' strangled voice stops me. "Mary Anne, don't. It's the goo."

The guy is breathing out 'help me' while I just stand there, frozen, my own throat closing up and tears burning my eyes. I can't save him.

I can't save him.

My eyes squeeze shut so I don't see him dying, but a screech makes me open my eyes. The scaly creature is on the other side of the door, it's yellow slitted eyes on us. There's something about this thing. Like it's... familiar.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

☾

"I told you, we just walked in and saw the jeep on top of the guy, that's all," Stiles lies to his father as the three of us sit in the back of an ambulance. I haven't said anything, too shaken up about what happened. When that thing disappeared, I had sat on the ground, Stiles head on my lap as his paralysis wore off. It seems that creature has claws with a paralytic agent, has green scales and yellow slit eyes, and a tail. It's like a snake or a lizard. Or any reptile that uses a paralytic toxin to hunt and kill its prey.

"What's wrong with your hand?" Stilinski asks.

Stiles shakes out his hand. "Nothing. Can we just get out of here now?"

"Look, if there's something you don't think you can tell me..." Stilinski trails off.

"You think I'm lying?" Stiles asks, even though it's what we're doing.

"No, of course not," Stilinski says. "I'm just worried about you, both of you. Now, if you saw someone do this if you're afraid that maybe they're gonna come back and make sure you don't say anything about it..." Stilinski trails off, trying to reassure us.

"I didn't see anything," I lie, my voice wavering ever so slightly as I keep my eyes on the ground. "At all."

"Now, can we go please?" Stiles asks again, taking my hand in his other, lacing our fingers together and squeezing comfortably.

"Sure," Stilinski says quietly. "But not your jeep. We're gonna have to impound it." Stiles probably has a 'why' expression on, but I don't look over. "Sorry kid, evidence. See you at home." The Sheriff leaves us, Stiles groaning and probably using his other hand to rub over his buzzed hair.

"All right, well, at least make sure they wash it." I can feel his eyes on me and I finally look away from the ground, meeting his eyes.

"You okay?" I ask quietly, knowing after that neither of us wouldn't.

"I'll be fine," he obviously lies, my inner lie detector going off in my mind but I don't call him out on it. I'm not gonna push him, it wouldn't be right to do that. Not now, not after what happened tonight.

"Stiles, this thing isn't going to stop," I whisper. "Whatever it is, it can paralyze people. He has his own defense mechanism that we don't know how to stop."

He sighs, knowing I'm right. "But we've dealt with Peter, so how bad can this be? For now, I'm just gonna call Scott and see if he can pick us up."

I nod and he kisses my forehead before getting up to call his best friend, their words falling deaf on my ears. All I can hear is the chatter of the deputies around us, but the sound of the man's pleas for help before his demise rings through my ears. I couldn't save him, a man that probably didn't deserve to die, despite his pervy vibe. I couldn't save him.

I can't tell how long time passes until Scott pulls up near us, but I'm grateful for being able to get out of here. I get in the back silently as Stiles sits in the front, shutting the door at the same time as me.

"You okay?" Scott asks, eyes flickering to Stiles and then to me repeatedly.

"You were right," Stiles says, dodging Scott's question, like he did with mine. "It's not like you. Its eyes were almost like, reptilian. But there was something about them."

"What do you mean?"

"You know when you see, like, a friend in a Halloween mask, but all you can actually see their eyes and you feel like you know 'em but you just can't figure out who it is?" Stiles asks. I nod my head, understanding him. Something about those eyes was familiar, and it looked like it recognized us.

"Are you saying you know who it is?"

"No," I deny, swallowing thickly as I peek my head a little between them to look at the other werewolf. "But I think it knew us."

☾

I have very serious questions that I NEED you to answer that concerns the future of the story:

1. Should I keep writing this book?

2. If I DO continue this book, should I make a sequel?

Please answer. I really do need you guys to give feedback. I'm just kind of discouraged by the lack of interaction with you guys.

Void_Stiles_is_Life xx