☾

"So this kid's the real killer?"

Mr. Stilinski stared at the three teenagers skeptically, all of who were situated around the desk in Stiles' room, a recent BHHS yearbook laid out open on it. Matt Daehler's name and picture were circled in red Sharpie, making it glaringly obvious. Scott had run outside with everybody else as the cops took over and he saw Matt standing in the road with Jackson, in full Kanima form, circled protectively around the boy and the two had disappeared amidst the chaos.

When he told them a shudder of unease rolled through her body; all of her bad feelings about Matt were true, and while a part of her was proud that her gut was right, the other part was now dreading what came next.

"Yeah," Stiles answered, looking up at his dad from his seat in his desk chair.

"No."

"Yes."

"No." Stilinski was pretty adamant.

Stiles stood from his chair to look at his dad in the eye. "Dad, come on. Everybody knows that the police look for ways to connect victims in a murder, okay? So all you have to do is, like, look through their transcripts and figure out which class they all had in common."

His plan was brilliant, but there were a few flaws.

"Yeah, except for the fact that the rave promoter, Kara, wasn't in Harris's class."

Stiles held his hands up defensively. "All right, okay, you're right, sorry. Then I guess they dropped the charges against him?" He asked sarcastically, already knowing the answer.

The older man gave him a look. "No, you know what? They're not dropping the charges. But that doesn't prove anything." Now Mary Anne could see where Stiles got his stubbornness from.

Stiles went to open his mouth but only made a strange noise, hands moving in a frustrated manner. Stilinski shifted his gaze from his son and to the two teenagers behind him. "Do you two believe this?" He asked them.

"It's really hard to explain how we know this, but you just gotta trust us. We know it's Matt," Scott said earnestly, Mary Anne nodding in agreement. There were two options to actually explain to him what was going on, one was difficult and the other was easy. The difficult option was catching him up to speed quickly and the easy option was that she and Scott glow their eyes and he would believe them. Neither option sounded good for the situation they were in.

Stiles looked from Scott and Mary Anne to his dad and resumed talking, trying to convince him. "Yeah, he took Harris's car, okay? Look, he knew that if a cop found tire tracks at one of the murders, and that if enough of the victims were in Harris's class, that they'd arrest him," he explained.

Stilinski relented, "All right, fine. I'll allow the remote possibility," the three teenagers sighed in relief, "but give me a motive. I mean, why would this kid want most of the 2006 swim team and its coach dead?"

Okay, if she were being completely honest with herself, they hadn't really given much thought as to why Matt was killing people. She and Stiles just thought he was a psycho.

"Isn't it obvious?" Stiles asked loudly, arms out in a wide gesture, pausing dramatically. "Our swim team sucks! They haven't won in, like, six years." Mary Anne rolled her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Okay, we don't have a motive yet. I mean, come on, does Harris?"

Stilinski looked down for a moment before returning his gaze to the teenagers, "What do you want me to do?"

"We need to look at the evidence," Mary Anne said quickly.

"Yeah, that would be in the station, where I no longer work."

"Trust me, they'll let you in," Stiles assured him.

His dad gave him an incredulous look. "Trust you?" He asked, pointing two fingers at him.

Stiles raised his eyebrows and jabbed his thumb behind him without looking. "Trust—trust Scott? Mary Anne?"

Stilinski didn't look at them as he said, "Them I trust."

Now we're getting somewhere, Mary Anne thought triumphantly.

☾

The four shuffled into the station, despite it being two in the morning, and the late-night deputy gave them a tired but scrutinizing look. "It's two in the morning," was all that she said.

Stilinski leaned against the counter as the trio stayed behind him. "Believe me, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't extremely important."

Stiles leaned in and whispered to the two werewolves, "We look at the hospital stuff first, okay?"

"Why?" Scott asked just as quietly, confused.

"Because all the murders were committed by Jackson, except for one, you remember?" Mary Anne reminded him gently, looking up at him; she was standing in between them, just like how it was when they were kids.

"The pregnant girl, Jessica," he nodded.

"Yeah. Since Matt had to kill her himself, somebody from the hospital could've seen him," Stiles theorized. It was very unlikely that someone didn't see him, since there was always someone there.

Their attention was pulled to Stilinski as he said, "Boys, and girl." They followed him past the front desk and towards his former office, getting the hospital's security footage from that night up on the computer. Scott, Stiles and Mary Anne were standing around him, watching the tape intently. But, there was no sign of Matt yet. "I don't know, guys. I mean, look at this. There was a six car pile up that night, the hospital was jammed."

"All right, just keep going," Stiles insisted. "Look, he had to have passed one of the cameras on that floor to get to Jessica, okay? He's gotta be on the footage somewhere."

Something on a footage caught Mary Anne's eye; someone walking down the hospital wearing a black leather jacket, his back towards the camera but she still pointed it out, "Oh, hold on, stop! Did you see that? Scroll back."

Stilinski scrolled the video back and Stiles says, "That's him! That's Matt!"

"All I see is the back of someone's head," Stilinski furrowed his eyebrows.

"Matt's head, yeah. I sit behind him in history. He's got a very distinct cranium, it's weird," Stiles insisted, even more, gesturing towards his own head and looking at his father who turned to look at him.

"Are you crazy?" He asked him incredulously.

"All right, fine, then look at his jacket, huh? How many people do you know who wear black leather jackets?" Stiles questioned, not backing down in the slightest.

"Millions, literally," Stilinski deadpanned. "Including your girlfriend."

Scott interrupted, "Okay, can we scroll forward? There's gotta be a shot of him coming at one of the cameras."

Stilinski sighed and hit a button on the keyboard, the footage jumping to the end of the hallway, and the same guy was there. "Right there! Stop, stop! See, there he is again," Stiles pointed to it, but it was still only his back.

"You mean there's the back of his head again," Stilinski corrected him, growing impatient.

"Okay, but look. He's talking to someone," Mary Anne said, seeing the guy talking to a nurse, a nurse who looked awfully familiar.

Scott leaned forward more to get a better look at the video was paused, and Mary Anne instantly recognized the woman to be Melissa McCall.

"He's talking to my mom."

"Scott, call her. Now."

The teenage werewolf nodded and fumbled to get his phone of his pocket, dialing the number and when she picked up, he immediately asked her about it, putting the phone on speaker and placing it on the desk so everyone could hear.

"Scott, you know how many people I deal with in a day?" Melissa deadpanned.

"This one's sixteen, he's got dark hair, looks like a normal teenager," Scott gave her a basic description of Matt.

"Yeah, he looks evil," Stiles cut in and Mary Anne added her own descriptor.

"He looks like a creep."

"Scott, I already talked to the police about this."

"Okay, mom, I'm gonna take a picture and send it to you." Scott leaned over and took his phone, snapping a pic of Matt's yearbook photo and sent it to his mom. "Did you get it?"

"Yeah."

"Do you recognize him? Do you remember him?" Scott pressed.

"Yeah, I did. I mean, I remember I stopped him because he was tracking mud in the hall." Mary Anne could have jumped for joy at that moment. They got proof that Matt killed the pregnant girl, and a credible eyewitness. "Scott, what's going on?"

"It's—it's nothing, mom. I'll explain later. I gotta go," Scott said quickly and hung up, stuffing his phone back into his pocket and Stilinski picked up a file from the pile.

"We've got shoe prints alongside the tire tracks at the trailer site," Stilinski riffled through the papers.

"And if they match, that puts Matt at the scene of three murders. The trailer, the hospital, and the rave," Stiles listed.

Stilinski corrected him and stood up, "Actually four. A credit card receipt for an oil change was signed by Matt at the garage where the mechanic was killed."

"When?" Mary Anne and Stiles asked in unison, her thick eyebrows raised, pushing away the mental image of that night from her mind.

"A couple hours before you got there."

"All right, dad, if one's an incident, two's a coincidence, and three's a pattern, what's four?" Stiles questioned, bouncing slightly on his heels. Mary Anne always wondered what four was, her mother never told her, so she was sort of excited to hear it as well.

"Four's enough for a warrant," Stilinski smiled and Stiles did a fist pump, like the dork he was, and Mary Anne couldn't help but grin. They caught him, and he wasn't going to get away with what he did. "Scott, call your mom back, see how quick she can get here. If I can get an official ID, I can get a search warrant. Mary Anne, mind going to the front desk to tell them to let Scott's mom in when she gets here?"

"Not at all, sir," Mary Anne nodded and quickly darted out of the office, jogging down the hallway to get to the front desk. But, the deputy that was there was gone. Furrowing her eyebrows, she stepped in further and darted her eyes around the room. "Hello?" As she got closer, she looked down and her faced blanched at the sight of the deputy on the ground, eyes open, blood staining the front of her shirt, dead, gun absent from her belt. She took a small step back and turned around, instantly stopping as the barrel of a gun entered her sight, pointing right at her head.

And right behind that gun was a glassy-eyed Matt.

He cocked his head at her. "Move."

"Matt, what the hell are you doing?"

He narrowed his eyes and his other hand shot out, grabbing her bicep roughly. "I said, move," he hissed, shoving her down the hall and in the direction of the Sheriff's office. Her stomach was churning with dread and fear, knowing that someone was going to get hurt. What made her heart thump wildly against her ribcage was the tip of the gun pressing against her upper back, ready to fire at any moment. She knew she could heal, but like Nik said, her healing would be slower than normal, so she had no idea how long it would take for a gunshot wound to heal. And she couldn't jerk away from him, knowing he would shoot.

As she crossed the threshold of the office, Stilinski was the first one to set eyes on her, and then Matt, who still had a tight grip on her arm. All three males around the desk saw the teenager holding a gun to the small girl's back, eyes widening. Her own eyes locked with Stiles, seeing fear swimming in his, but she nodded slightly in a way to tell him she was alright. But it didn't help him, as his chest was heaving slightly and his heartbeat sped up to an almost alarmingly fast pace.

"Matt? It's Matt, right?" Stilinski asked, hands up to show that he wasn't going to try anything. Matt nodded, smirking slightly, showing no sign that he was going to let go of Mary Anne any time soon. "Matt, whatever's going on, I guarantee you there's a solution that doesn't involve a gun."

His grip on tight her arm tightened. "You know, it's funny you say that, because I don't think you're aware of just how right you are."

"I know you don't wanna hurt people."

"Actually, I wanna hurt a lot of people. You four weren't on my list, but I could be persuaded. And one way is to try dialing somebody on your cell phone, like McCall is doing. That—that could definitely get someone hurt." He moved the gun to Mary Anne's side, keeping his chest pressed lightly against her back. "Everyone. Now!"

"Come on," Stilinski encouraged the boys who pulled out their cellphones, placing them on the desk.

Matt backed up a bit and stepped to the side so he could look down at her, letting go of her arm to reach down into her back pocket. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from gagging or cursing as he deliberately groped her as he slid her phone out of her pocket, smirking and tossing it onto the desk with the others. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Stiles' hands shaking, jaw clenching, as Matt touched her. However, she thought little of it because of one simple fact:

They were now hostages.

☾

Matt made them move into the holding room, forcing Stiles to handcuff his dad's wrist to the bar on the wall and pointing the gun at him, returning to holding Mary Anne's arm tightly. Bruises were forming and then healing under his harsh grip multiple times and she was thankful for the long shirt so no one could see.

"Tighter," Matt demanded, cocking his head at Stiles.

Stilinski looked at his son. "Do what he says, Stiles."

Stiles huffed and did as he was told, looking back at Matt who nodded towards the hallway and shoved Stiles in front of him, keeping the gun on them. As they made it to the entrance of another hallway, all four stopped and Mary Anne's eyes widened. Blood was smeared on the walls, three deputies bloody and dead.

"What, are you gonna kill everyone in here?" Scott asked, appalled.

"No," Matt chuckled. "That's what Jackson's for. I just think about killing them, and he does it."

He led them back into the office and pushed Mary Anne, who was as pale as she was the night she got bit, into a chair, finally letting go of her arm. Then, he looked at the boys. "Scott, start shredding all the files. Stiles, you delete them off the computer." Stiles had a defiant look in his eyes but Mary Anne caught his gaze, silently begging him not to do anything stupid. She didn't want him to get hurt. Scott, though, she didn't have to worry about him as much because he was being compliant, knowing that if he did something, Matt would start shooting.

They got to work on destroying the evidence while Matt crouched down a bit to look at Mary Anne, a smirk twisting at his lips. "You know, Mary Anne, I've liked you for a while now," he told her, chuckling, a hand coming up to brush some hair out of her face and tuck it behind her ear, fingers lingering on her skin. She shuddered and clenched her jaw, twitching to move away from his touch. "I was ready to ask you out when you came back from New York." She could see Stiles go rigid as Matt spoke to her, but he kept on typing. Keeping her face impassive helped her keep her panic and anger from rushing to the surface. "I had a major crush on you before you left, and I regretted not trying to take a shot at asking you out. But, as soon as you came back, you were too infatuated with Stiles to even notice me. And when you rejected me, well, that was a bad decision."

His head snapped towards Stiles when he clicked on a key and spoke up, "Deleted. And we're done. All right, so, Matt, since all the people you brutally murdered deserved it because they killed you first — whatever that means — I think we're good here, right? So I'll just get my dad, and we'll go, you know? You continue on the whole vengeance thing. Enjoy the Kanima."

Then, bright lights filtered in from the windows and Mary Anne heard the tires of an approaching vehicle, making her blood turn to ice. "Sounds like your mom's here, McCall."

"Matt, don't do this," Scott implored him. "When she comes to the door, I'll just tell her to leave. I'll tell her we didn't find anything. Please, Matt."

"If you don't move—now, I'm gonna kill Stiles first, then Mary Anne, and then your mom," Matt threatened him. He pointed the gun at the two and forced Mary Anne to stand up, waiting till Scott got out the door first, then Stiles, when he pushed her in front of him, keeping the gun pointed at her back. However, it gave Mary Anne a chance to be at Stiles' side, standing close to him. "Open it," Matt ordered, moving a bit away from them.

"Please."

"Open the door."

Scott swallowed thickly and did as he was told, hesitantly, and Mary Anne sighed in relief when she saw that it was Derek on the other side. Never before had she been so happy to see the Alpha. "Oh, thank the Gods." However, there was an odd look on his face, his body falling forwards and he curved enough to land on his back in front of them, a half-transformed Jackson being revealed. He stepped closer and his eyes flashed to his reptilian ones, causing her stomach to drop once more.

Matt got closer and crouched a bit to look at Derek who asked, "This is the one controlling him? This kid?"

"Well, Derek, not everyone's lucky enough to be a big, bad werewolf. Oh, yeah, that's—that's right. I've learned a few things lately. Werewolves, hunters, Kanimas. And, my personal favorite, hybrids," Matt ranted, standing straight. "It's like a frickin' Halloween party every full moon. Except for you, Stiles. What do you turn into?"

"Abominable snowman. But, uh, it's more of, like, a wintertime thing, you know, seasonal," Stiles answered sardonically.

Matt jerked his head towards him and Jackson, who was standing behind the trio, swiped his claws across the back of Stiles' neck, and he started to fall forward. "Hey!" Scott and Mary Anne exclaimed in unison, moving to catch him but Jackson stuck a clawed finger in Scott's face, wagging it. The teen wolf grabbed Mary Anne's arm to move her behind him, just enough so that she could still see the scene in front of her, and away from Jackson, going on instinct.

"You bitch," Stiles muttered as he fell forward, right on top of Derek, both of them grunting.

"Get him off of me," Derek bit out, even more displeased with the teenage boy lying on top of him.

Matt crouched down again to look at them. "Oh, I don't know, Derek. I think you two make a pretty good pair. It must kinda suck, though, to have all that power taken away from you with just a little cut to the back of the neck. I bet you're not used to feeling this helpless."

"Still got some teeth. Why don't you get down here a little closer, huh? We'll see how helpless I am," Derek taunted him.

"Yeah, bitch," Stiles added, voice muffled.

Again, for the second time that night, Mary Anne heard a vehicle approaching and this time, she knew that it was Melissa. It had to be. Dread twisted her stomach into knots, fearing the worse. While she didn't know her that well after so many years, she remembered that Melissa was like a second mom to her growing up, just as Scott was like a second brother to her.

"Is that her? Do what I tell you to and I won't hurt her. I won't even let Jackson near her," Matt promised him. Mary Anne knew he wasn't being entirely truthful.

And it seemed that Stiles knew it as well. "Scott, don't trust him!"

Matt grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled Stiles off of Derek and onto his back, pressing his foot onto his throat. "This work better for ya?"

She felt her heart jump into her throat and constrict, tears glistening in her eyes. Stiles was choking and his face was quickly turning red, eyes watering. "Matt, stop!" Mary Anne yelled, voice shrill as she moved from behind Scott. "Please, stop! Just, stop!" She didn't want to believe it, that for the second time that night she had to watch Stiles be put in danger. In the hallucination, he died, and she didn't want it to actually happen. She couldn't lose another person she loved, every other loss had cracked her, broken her, but she knew that losing Stiles would be the one loss that would completely shatter her into pieces.

"Then do what I tell you to," Matt said, glancing at her.

She nodded instantly. "Okay. Alright." But he didn't stop choking Stiles. "Stop!" Only then did he remove his foot, Stiles coughing immediately as he gasped for air. She could feel a bit of the pressure on her chest lifting as he started to breathe again.

"Can I trust that you won't do anything stupid?" He asked her, getting a nod in response. "Then wait in the office, Jackson, take 'em in there. You," he nodded towards Scott. "You're with me."

Jackson grabbed Derek and Stiles by the arm and dragged them into the Sheriff's office, Mary Anne trailing behind them, and as soon as Jackson dropped them and moved to stand next to the open door, she plopped down as well sitting on the ground Indian style, craning her neck to inspect his neck. After seeing no visible marks, she gently grabbed him by the shoulders and easily dragged him up so his head was in her lap, looking up at her. His face was flushed, eyes shiny with unshed tears, and he looked terrified. It twisted the knife in her heart deeper.

"You okay?" She asked quietly, knowing that if she spoke any louder that her voice would crack.

This was the second time she'd been in a situation like this, the first time she broke down after Peter howled, which was delayed since she was the only female not freaking out, but now? Now, she had fear and anxiety gripping at her heart and throat like a vice, dread weighing down her stomach like heavy chains, and her icy blue eyes were glassy with unshed tears that she wouldn't allow to fall. She couldn't let it overwhelm her, take over and send her into a state of panic, and make her magic go haywire.

"I'm fine. You?" He asked just as quietly.

She chuckled dryly, "I'm doing fine, considering the circumstances. But, then again, this isn't our first hostage situation." She held one of his shoulders with one hand and stroked his cheek with the other, trying to even out her breathing. "I knew something bad was going to happen tonight, and it just keeps happening."

Before he could say anything in retaliation, a gunshot rang throughout the station, followed by a feminine scream. Her head shot up and that protective feeling took over, gently moving Stiles so she could stand and dash out, Jackson staying still. He didn't stop her from leaving, not that it mattered. "Scott!" She yelled, sneakers squeaking as she skidded to a stop, seeing Scott leaning against the bench, holding his side, Melissa covering her mouth, and Matt still pointing the gun at him. He was shot and she could smell the blood. "Scott?"

His eyes shifted from Matt to her, widening and not from getting shot, but because of her. She didn't notice it at first until a teary-eyed Melissa looked at her the same way, Matt turning around to look at her, a fascinated look on his face.

"Mary Anne?" Melissa choked out, horrified.

It was then that she registered it—the burning pain in her lower side. She looked down and saw a patch of blood on her shirt, growing rapidly, from a gunshot wound Scott received. Her hands flew to press against her stomach, gasping at the intense pain, more pain than she'd felt in a long time. She could feel the hole through the shirt, the hot blood soaking her hands, the flesh stitching together at an excruciatingly slow pace. She had never been shot before, and when she heard her mother and uncle describe it, she couldn't imagine it. Now, she could, and it hurt like hell. It took all of her strength not to stumble backward.

Melissa moved to check her son as Matt was staring at Mary Anne, but when he turned the gun on her, she stopped. "You really are fascinating, Archer," he chuckled hollowly before looking down at Scott. "Alright, McCall, get up, and follow me. You, go back to the office, and stay there."

The last order was directed towards her, but she didn't move, not as the pain lingered, even after the hole was nearly healed, at least on the surface. She was stubborn and wouldn't leave, her instincts screaming at her not to leave. "Mary Anne." Scott's voice made her tear her eyes away from the psychopath. While his forehead was crumpled with anguish, his eyes were assuring and pleading. "Please, listen to him."

"Matt? Matt, listen to me—" Stilinski shouted from the other room, causing Matt to snap.

"Shut—shut—shut up! Everybody shut the hell up! Now, get up, or I shoot her next!"

The three did as they were told, Mary Anne holding her bloody side, walking into the office where Jackson stood, as still as a statue, Stiles and Derek still paralyzed and on the floor. "Mary Anne? What happened, are you okay—" Stiles stopped once he could properly see Mary Anne, eyes widening at the blood staining her shirt and hands. "Oh, God."

She fell to the floor next to him on her knees, the pain fading away as the wound healed. "I'm okay," she breathed out, heart still hammering against her ribs and forehead beaded with sweat, dropping her hand to the floor, leaning her back against the desk, legs straightening out in front of her. She wanted to pull Stiles back into her lap, but she didn't want to touch him while her hand was coated in her own blood. "Scott got shot and since I receive his wounds, I got shot, too."

"Are you healed?"

The question, surprisingly, came from Derek. Though, she didn't hesitate to answer. "Yeah, I think. But it doesn't mean that I can do something right now. I can't fully shift yet."

She went quiet as Scott and Matt returned, the former being pushed slightly into the room. He turned to look at Matt, "The evidence is gone. Why don't you just go?" He questioned.

"You—you think the evidence mattered that much, huh? No, no, I—I want the book."

"What book?" Mary Anne spoke up, already having an inkling of what he was talking about.

"The beastiary," Matt answered, damn-near hysterical. "Not just a few pages, I want the entire thing."

"I don't have it. It's Gerard's," Scott insisted. "What do you want it for, anyway?"

"I need answers," Matt muttered, looking and sounding desperate.

"Answers to what?"

Matt looked at him. "To this," he said, lifting up his shirt to reveal his side, the skin dark and scaly like Jackson's. Mary Anne's eyes widened as it rippled a blue color, like it was growing, and she immediately understood then why he needed the bestiary.

Somehow, he was turning into a Kanima himself.

☾

Weird ending, I know, but I finally reached a point where I wanted to stop this chapter. I'm sorry it took me so long to write, I've just been dealing with drama, school, and other things. Now, I can't promise a chapter very soon, but I will try to get the next one up before March ends.

Anyways, don't forget to vote and comment your thoughts!

Void_Stiles_is_Life xx