☾

"Hey, Scotty," Mary Anne said to Scott as he climbed into the front seat of the jeep, smiling widely. Earlier, she came to realize that while it may be the ninth birthday without her parents, it was the first one with Scott and Stiles in nine years. It made her positively giddy, having her friends back.

The male werewolf turned his head to look at her with an odd look. "Are you okay?" He queried, genuinely curious and concerned.

"She's been like this all day," Stiles shrugged, starting the car and pulling out the driveway of the McCall residence.

Mary Anne pouted. "Forgive me for being excited to spend my sixteenth birthday with you guys after nine years."

"So you remember us?" Scott asked, his voice full of hope.

"I remember everything. Including that one time you spilled orange juice all over my pink dress when we were five."

Scott looked confused but it quickly morphed into an expression of mild annoyance. "I said I was sorry!"

Stiles was chuckling, enjoying their banter. He remembered that day as well, along with every moment he spent with both of them when they were the Three Musketeers. "And a few days later you let her put you in one of her dresses for the day," he added with a little wiggle of his eyebrows.

Scott's cheeks were red and he looked thoroughly embarrassed. "That's because I thought that was what siblings did," he grumbled. "You were like a sister to me." His voice lightened up and he turned around to smile a bit at her.

She returned it, reaching over to playfully punch his shoulder. "Of course. I did kind of punch you when you made fun of my stuffed dog's name, which in my experience is normal among siblings."

"You're just going to be bringing up the past now, aren't you?"

"You should've seen it coming, buddy," Stiles said in a fake apologetic voice. "Remember when she teased you all day when you wore her dress?"

"And when you let me paint your tiny nails?"

"Or that time you accidentally tripped her and she had a bruised nose for days."

"Oh! How about that time when I punched you again when Stiles tried to scare me on Halloween and he moved out of the way, and since you were behind him, I accidentally punched you instead when we were six?"

"Screw both of you."

"We love you too, pup."

When they get to Lydia's house, it was basically empty, and Lydia answered the door with a tray of drinks in her hands, smiling widely at Mary Anne. They didn't hug, but they did exchange happy birthday's, and Lydia told them to don't forget to try the punch, the former making the blonde found suspicious. They always hugged on their birthday, and she would always say something about her getting through another birthday without her parents. It was bad enough she already had a bad feeling about tonight, but add the fact that Lydia seemed off? It was starting to look like she was speaking too soon about that night being normal.

Pushing that aside, the trio started talking about what the couple found out.

"If we see Allison, we should probably tell her what we found," Mary Anne said as they walked through the nearly empty hall to get to the backyard; there were only a few people, other than themselves, at the party.

"I'm still kind of not sure what we found," Scott admitted.

"We figured out it has something to do with water. You know, the fact that all the victims were on the swim team, the way the Kanima reacted around the pool," Stiles explained.

Scott nodded, "So whoever's controlling the Kanima really hates the swim team?"

"Hated the swim team," Mary Anne corrected him, and Stiles elaborated further on it.

"Specifically, the 2006 swim team. So it could be another teacher. Maybe like a student back then. I mean, who are we missing though? What haven't we thought of?"

Allison then approached them with an awkward smile on her face, an equally awkward look falling upon Scott's. "Uh, Jackson's not here," she informed them.

"Yeah, no one's here," Stiles pointed out the obvious, looking around the empty backyard.

Scott tried to be optimistic, "Maybe it's just early."

"Or maybe nobody's coming because Lydia's turned into the town whackjob." Mary Anne shot Stiles a look.

"Well, we have to do something, because we've completely ignored her for the past two weeks," Allison decided.

"She's completely ignored us for ten years," Scott pointed out. "We don't owe her a party."

Mary Anne raised her hand a bit, "Uh, excuse me, but we do owe her, and me, one. We've all had it rough these past few weeks, we deserve a fun night."

"I guess I could use my co-captain status to get the lacrosse team here," her Sire muttered.

Stiles grinned, "Yeah, I also know some people who can get this thing going. Like, really going."

"Who?" Allison asked.

"I met them the other night," Stiles chucked. "Let's just say they know how to party."

Mary Anne's eyebrows jumped. "You don't mean..."

"Oh, yes."

☾

Not even half-an-hour later, the party was in full swing, and yes, Stiles did, in fact, call the drag queens from Jungle. The music was turned up, people were drinking Lydia's punch that she'd shoved at Mary Anne, who had to admit, was better than the concoction she made at the party where she officially met Stiles for the second time. People were also dancing and a lot of couples were making out, uncaring of the world around them.

Stiles, who also had a drink, and her were leaning against one of the pillars next to each other, shoulders pressed together, Scott was sitting one of the patio chairs in front of them, looking at Allison from the other side of the pool. Mary Anne would have gone over, but she feared it would be awkward as she was friends with both her and Scott.

"Are you gonna apologize to Allison or what?" Stiles asked his best friend awkwardly, the two turning their heads at the same time to look at each other. Mary Anne learned from Stiles that something went down between the secret couple at the rave and that was why it was so awkward earlier between Scott and her tall best friend.

Scott looked confused. "Why should I apologize?" He asked.

"Because you're the guy. It's what we do," Stiles answered, like it was so obvious. Mary Anne snorted quietly and he caught it, shooting her a fleeting side-smirk.

"But I didn't do anything wrong," Scott sighed.

"Then you should definitely apologize. See, any time a guy thinks he hasn't done anything wrong, it means he's definitely done something wrong," Stiles said knowingly.

Mary Anne smiled, "You're learning fast, my young Padawan." She missed the proud gleam in Stiles's eyes at her Star Wars reference, but he quickly returned his attention back to the teen wolf in front of them.

"I'm not apologizing," Scott decided firmly.

"Is that the full moon talking, buddy?" Stiles questioned, sardonically. To be honest, Mary Anne was feeling something from it. Like always, she felt more energy than usual coursing through her body, added to her newly triggered magic, it created a weird feeling beneath her skin. Her magic was humming and singing in her blood and beneath her skin, like it was actually alive.

Scott nodded. "Probably. Why do you care, anyway?"

"Because, Scott, something's gotta go right here. I mean, we're getting our asses royally kicked, if you haven't noticed. People are dying. I got my dad fired. You're gonna be held back in school. My girlfriend is a mutated version of a witch, mixed with a werewolf, and we have no idea what abilities she's gonna develop. And if on top of all that, I gotta watch you lose Allison to a stalker like Matt, I'm gonna stab myself in the face," Stiles rambled, surprisingly not out of breath by the end of it.

Scott stood abruptly, an alarmed look on his face. "Don't stab yourself in the face."

"Why not?" Stiles sighed.

Mary Anne followed Scott's gaze and her body went rigid, seeing the one face they hadn't seen all night until then. Jackson, accepting a drink from Lydia, with an odd look on his face. "Because Jackson's here," Scott said quickly.

The birthday girl sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

They just couldn't have a night of peace, could they?

☾

Shortly after, Mary Anne wandered away from Stiles and Scott, having already downed two drinks and was working on her third, seeing as how she couldn't get drunk. But she felt woozy as she stumbled a bit around the yard, weaving through gyrating bodies and randy couples, hoping to find a place where she could breathe for a moment and gather her racing thoughts. It didn't make sense; she felt tipsy, and yet, she shouldn't have been capable of becoming intoxicated. Her body healed too quickly for alcohol to hinder her state of mind and senses, just like with Scott when Stiles tried to get him drunk when Allison broke up with him.

Then, an eerily familiar voice stopped her dead in her tracks. Her whole body went as rigid as a board and her skin crawled, heart pounding against her ribs.

"Mary Anne."

She blinked rapidly, trying to figure out if she really was drunk and seeing things or what she saw a few feet away from her was really there. Stiles stood there, and behind him, was Peter, a clawed hand at her boyfriend's throat, smirking slyly, his other hand curled around the boy's upper arm.

"Stiles?" Mary Anne croaked, fear flooding her.

"You should have known, Mary Anne," Peter scolded her, his smirk seemingly permanent. "Stiles is in your pack, and you know what that means."

"Please," Mary Anne begged, tears prickling the corners of her eyes. Logically, she knew that Peter Hale was dead and buried somewhere, but it seemed too real. The sight of his claws dangerously close to Stiles' throat was sending her into a state of panic and fear and she couldn't think rationally at that moment. "Please, don't hurt him, just let him go. It's me that you want. Hurt me, not him."

Peter only chuckled, dark and distorted.

"But you see, Mary Anne, hurting him will hurt you."

The blonde squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, hoping that it really was just her mind playing tricks on her, until she opened them up and her heart stopped for a second before going into overdrive.

"Papa?" The single word was shaky, astonished, and broken.

Colin Archer replaced Peter, looking every bit as he did before he died. Artfully messy black hair, dark scruff, piercing ocean eyes that were replaced with a cold, steel blue. He had a sinister grin, fangs exposed, claws now digging shallowly into Stiles neck who looked just as frightened as her, eyes wide and face paler than usual.

He clucked his tongue and spoke, his thick accent the same from all those years ago, "You don't deserve happiness, darling. If your mother and I can't have it, then neither can you." He laughed, boisterous and void of all emotions except for cruelty. "How ironic is it that the day you lose your soulmate, is the same day you were supposed to meet him. Poetic, isn't it?" Then, faster than she could react, he swiped his claws across Stiles' throat, tearing through his flesh and blood spurted from the wound. Mary Anne let out a pained scream and she dropped her cup, one hand going to her mouth and the other holding her stomach that had lurched at the sight, tears pooling in her eyes and escaping, streaming down her face.

Then, the world seemed to warp around her, and Stiles and Colin were no longer there. Some people looked at her weirdly but didn't say anything to the distressed girl. She sucked in a sharp breath, lip wobbling, but she forced it to stop, wiping at her cheeks and below her eyes. Her eye make up smudged a bit but she didn't care, all she cared about was finding Scott and Stiles, and getting away from that area. But, her curiosity got the better of her. Picking up the cup, holding only a small amount of the pinkish liquid that surprisingly didn't spill, she brought it to her nose and inhaled. It smelled weird, something she didn't notice before. She shook her head and stored that information away for later, then she turned around and pushed her way through the throng. No one paid any mind to her and she was grateful for that. She didn't need anymore judging stares from people that didn't even know her.

She wasn't particularly paying attention to Scott who bumped into her, his hands shooting out to gently hold her biceps to keep her from falling back from the force of their collision. While she was a werewolf and stronger than a human, she was still tiny and he was larger than her.

"Mary Anne, have you seen—what happened?" He quickly changed his question at the girl's glassy eyes, eyebrows furrowed. He was genuinely worried at the look on her face; she looked like she had seen a ghost. And it was partially true, but it was only a hallucination.

She gulped thickly and shook her head, "Nothing."

He raised his eyebrows, looking unconvinced. "It's not nothing if your hands are shaking," he pointed out.

Her eyes darted down to see that her hands were in fact trembling and felt oddly warm. Something pulsed through her and the cup shattered, like it was made out of fragile glass when it survived a drop to the ground. She jerked in surprise, avoiding falling pieces of glass and dropped the remaining shards, thankfully none pierced her skin.

"What the hell was that?" Scott questioned, just as confused as her, still gripping her arms.

It came to her quickly; what Deaton said about her magic. Extreme spikes in her emotions could cause her magic to go awry, from blowing out light bulbs or anything else. "My magic," she answered shortly, then dismissed the issue. It wasn't the time, and she didn't want him to worry about her; they had more pressing problems than her unstable emotions. "That doesn't matter right now. Right now we have to find Stiles."

"I haven't seen him," Scott sighed, letting her go. "Have you seen Lydia?"

"No, but I need to find Stiles." She needed to know if he was really okay, too shaken up at the too-real image of her dead father ripping out her boyfriend's throat. The two set out to find him, while also looking for Lydia, when they found him sitting on the edge of the hot tub, back against the pillar, a blank look on his face. It made Mary Anne's stomach turn; had he hallucinated something, too?

She crouched down in front of him, feet on either side of his legs, hands going to his shoulders. "Stiles, baby?" She asked gently, one hand going to his cheek but he turned away. "Stiles?" Sighing, she turned to look up at Scott. "Okay, go get a water bottle. We need to sober him up." He nodded and took off, leaving the couple alone. "Stiles, come on, something's going on and we need to find Lydia." She tapped his cheeks a few times, only receiving the same vacant look. He was either absent or drunk, both of which seemed plausible.

Soon Scott came back, crouching next to her and passing her the water bottle, who unscrewed the cap and held it in front of Stiles, the other hand tugging at his blue plaid shirt. "Stiles, look at me. Drink the water. Stiles, drink it," Mary Anne pleaded but he only turned his head again.

"Something's happening, and we need you to sober up right now. Come on, Stiles," Scott joined in, trying to coax his friend out of his state.

A dark-skinned girl sat on another ledge and gave them a bewildered look. "What do you think you're doing?" She asked, gesturing to the non-responsive boy. "You want to sober him up fast, that's not the way to do it."

"You can do better?" The werewolves asked her in unison, raising their eyebrows.

The girl scoffed, "I can do best, honey." She then grabbed Stiles' arm and the back of his neck, dunking his head into the water of the hot tub for a moment before Stiles shot up, gasping and dripping wet, face twitching, and aware of the world around him. "Whoo! How do you feel?" She asked, sniffling as beads of water trickled down her face; she'd gotten splashed when Stiles had shot up from the water, and the two werewolves did get hit with a few droplets of water.

Stiles exhaled sharply, "Like I might have to revisit my policy on hitting a girl."

The girl turned to look at Scott and Mary Anne, "He's sober."

Mary Anne turned her gaze from her and to Stiles. "Good, because we need to find Lydia," she said gravely.

☾

The three spent ten minutes trying to find her, Stiles with Mary Anne scouting outside and Scott inside. Neither Stiles or Mary Anne talked about what they hallucinated of, both still shaken up from it and set on finding Lydia instead. In the end, their search yielded nothing. They couldn't find her. However, the couple noticed how the people around them were acting. Sure, they were acting a bit strange before, but it seemed like they were just as loony as Scott was on his second full moon.

They found Scott coming outside from the house and Stiles stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, we can't find her. And, dude, anyone who drank that crap, they're freaking out," he informed him and Scott took a look around them, noticing it, too, as people started jumping into the pool.

"I can see that," Scott said with wide eyes.

Mary Anne turned to them. "What the hell do we do?" She asked, confused on what was causing the wave of insanity that was plaguing the party.

"I don't know, but we gotta -" Scott was cut off by someone shouting.

"I CAN'T SWIM!"

The three turned to see two guys dragging Matt, who was freaking out, towards the pool, ignoring his pleas. "No, no, no, stop, guys! I can't swim! I can't swim!" But it was futile, he was thrown into the water, gasping and trying to come to the surface, only to go back under, and no one moved to help him. Except for Jackson, who quickly moved to the edge of the pool and kneeled, reaching under and grabbing Matt's arm, helping the drenched teenager out of the pool.

Everyone was staring at him and Matt snapped, "What are you look at?"

It didn't matter that he glared at the trio as he pushed past them and the wail of sirens met her ears, Mary Anne's mind was moving a thousand miles per second. The Kanima's Master couldn't swim, and Matt claimed that he couldn't swim. And who was the one who saved him, looking unnervingly protective and glaring at the people gawking at him? Jackson, the Kanima.

Mary Anne and Stiles were right.

Matt was controlling Jackson. He was the Master.