• Grace Stilinski •

„Three things cannot be long hidden
The sun.
The moon.
The truth."

It was a clear night, with not only silver stars in the cloudless sky, but soon the moon in a flawless circle. Cold was the stainless steel of the handcuffs that connected Grace's right wrist to a heater. Hesitantly, she jerked it, thinking she could already hear plaster trickling out of the wall at this pitiful strain. "And you trust that?"

"No," Stiles replied tersely, pulling the chains tighter. "But if you are indeed a werewolf or whatever, it'll stop you for a while anyway, and in a pinch," he broke off to nod his head in his friend's direction, "We've got Malia."

"She doesn't have any problems during the full moon?" asked Grace in wonder, because she still hadn't really understood the principle of werewolves or werecoyotes.

"Not anymore, at least not like before," she confirmed, looking with a slight smirk on her lips at Stiles, who returned her gaze gently. Inconspicuously, the brunette rolled her blue eyes.

"Liam is still in trouble, though," her brother explained. "For him, the chains were. He's very... temperamental."

Grace nodded curtly and let herself slide to the floor against the wall. The basement of the mansion was not nearly as pompous as the rest of the house. Possibly that was precisely why it lent itself well to being a werewolf abatement site. The stone floor was cold, and she had to kick a few woodlice out of the way with her foot as they crawled in her direction. "So that's what you did here during the house party."

She got only the faint hint of a smile from Stiles in response before silence enveloped the three of them. Scott and Kira were in a room next door, tending to Liam, and where Lydia was, Grace had no way of knowing. Shivering in the crisp evening air, she wrapped her thin denim jacket a little tighter around her body. She knew now what the redhead had meant earlier; she did indeed stink.

For a moment she closed her eyes and reviewed the last few hours. It was amazing what could happen in the space of a day. Thoughtfully, she rolled a pebble across the cold floor. Doing something calmed her down and in a messed up way made her feel less absurd about the fact that creatures like werewolves and banshees exist. Perhaps it was just fatigue talking. Maybe she was dreaming at that moment and all this was just a nightmare, or maybe she had fainted from fright and had become a victim of her imagination. What if she had not survived the day at all? Maybe it was simply as Haigh had said; impossible.

"Are you scared?" Stiles finally brought her out of her thoughts and looked at her hesitantly. Her silence should have been answer enough, because a moment later he stated matter-of-factly. "You're pissed."

Grace snorted and demonstratively held her cuffed hand up a bit. "Oh can't you tell I'm having So. much. fun. right now?"

"We're just trying to help you," he murmured, at which she lowered her gaze. She knew she was being unfair again, yet she wanted to take advantage of the second chance life had given her and not fall back into old patterns. She sighed, "I'm sorry."

In fact, she wasn't sorry for anything. Stiles should be sorry, and her dad. After all, they had both kept an entire world from her. A world they apparently didn't want her in. The tiredness faded and was replaced by anger, which made her chest swell. A silver beam of light fell through the window, illuminating the basement room as Liam's human screams crossed with an animalistic growl.

Loud roars echoed off the walls, giving only a hint of what was going on in the next room. Again and again, Malia's eyes began to glow uncontrollably, but as soon as Stiles reached for her hand, they went out again. Grace had not seen this color before, it was of such intense blue, like the dark sea on which the full moon shone. They could have been pretty if she didn't know their back story.

Through all the commotion, Grace was still sitting, downright bored. She hadn't moved from the spot and the iron around her wrist had warmed up by now due to her body heat. Her legs were bent and she clutched her knees with both hands, digging her fingertips into her jeans. She just wanted to get home.

Stiles had stepped up beside her and settled down next to her. Because nothing had happened. Nothing at all. Gently, he put his hand on her wrist, where the handcuffs were. "Do you feel anything now?"

"I'm just tired," she mumbled, looking at her brother with her blue eyes. They were alone now, as Malia had gone over to help Liam, who, judging by his sounds, wasn't exactly in control of himself. "Can we please go home?"

Stiles hesitated. Suddenly, he lashed out with his other arm as if he was going to punch her in the face with his bare fist. Just before the tip of her nose, he stopped and nothing but a breeze brushed her skin.

"Stop that," she growled a little startled and merely scowled at him, but she hadn't turned into a monstrous beast because of that provocation.

"All right, all right," he muttered, and actually began to unlock the cuffs. Relieved, Grace rubbed her wrist, into whose flesh the iron had pressed, leaving red marks.

"So you're not a werewolf," Stiles finally stated with the hint of relief in his expression, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "So, uh... Congratulations?"

Rolling her eyes, Grace turned away. "But does that make it any easier?"

"No," her brother confirmed thoughtfully, and fell silent. It went on like that for a while. The two siblings merely listened to the growls, the roars, and the insults Liam kept hurling at the others. Again, Grace began to roll the pebble. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you.... I just... I guess I just couldn't stand losing you, too."

"It's all right," he murmured, though he didn't look like he actually felt that way. She was surprised when he looked up and gave her the hint of a tiny smile. "It's not like I go to your yearly check-ups. But believe me when I say I'm always glad when everything is okay."

Grace swallowed down the lump forming in her throat. A tugging sensation in her nose and the burning of her eyes told her that tears were coming. She averted her eyes,. "What did you actually have then? It has something to do with everything you couldn't tell me, doesn't it?"

"It's complicated," Stiles confirmed. "An evil spirit took possession of me. I had similar symptoms to Mom, but.... we defeated him. My friends defeated him."

She was surprised at how she could just accept that statement now. Not twenty-four hours ago, she would have possibly flipped him the bird for it. Amazing how much could change in a day. Grace felt as if her entire worldview had been shaken, had formed into a new one, and had swept her along with it. Who knew where to go?

She had to smile a little at the thought of someone taking on so much to save one. But it also made her a little bitter, because she had no one who would do such a thing for her. Again Liam's growl entered her consciousness, which this time went to her core. Hesitantly, she rose. "I want to go to him."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Stiles muttered, but after a little staring contest between the siblings, he finally relented with a sigh. "Fine. But at your own peril."

Grace didn't know what he meant by that statement. Until she saw the boy, who bore little resemblance to her schoolmate. With his hands tied, he was thrashing about frantically. Shocked, she stared at what should have been his fingernails. Sharp claws protruded from his fingertips, ready to slash the first thing that got in his way. Swallowing, she took a step back, because this something certainly didn't want to be her.

Pointed fangs, the kind Grace only knew from movies, snapped into the air and flashed dangerously in the light of the moon. The bright yellow eyes seemed more menacing than before, and his face had taken on wolfish features that had all but erased Liam's.

She knew now that he was a werewolf, but seeing it was something else. Seeking a little help, she looked to Stiles, whose dark eyes were darting frantically over the situation, trying to make sense of it all. She could almost see the rattling cogs in his head. Scott and Malia, meanwhile, were trying to calm their agitated pack member, but to no avail. Astonished, Grace looked around, for there was now no sign of Kira.

"I think I have an idea," her brother suddenly murmured, earning surprised looks for that statement. With a firm voice he now tried to get the young werewolf's attention. "Liam. Liam, what three things cannot be long hidden?"

In response, he got only a growl before Liam snapped at Scott once more. Bravely, Stiles took a step forward and made another attempt. Insistently, he spoke to the ninth grader. "Liam, look at me! What three things cannot be long hidden? What three things?"

He now had Liam's attention. Breathing heavily and gasping, he brought forth, "The sun.... The moon... The truth..."

His voice was low, seeming distorted, but it gradually normalized with each word. The animalistic features disappeared and his yellow eyes merely blinked as if they were running out of batteries. Relieved, Stiles breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. "Right, let's do it again."

"The sun. The moon. The truth," he gasped, dropping exhausted against the wall, now back to being the normal schoolboy Grace knew him to be. The sheriff's daughter was no less relieved, but frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It's a kind of mantra from another pack that was also named on the death lists," her brother explained. "You know Brett?"

Grace nodded slowly. There was something to that line. Maybe she too would eventually find out the truth about herself? Scott, meanwhile, looked at his best friend with thanks. "You did it," he breathed in surprise, running a hand over his tanned face in relief.

"Now don't act surprised," he retorted in a huff, merely grinning smugly. "You'd all die without me."

No less exhausted than her panting classmate, Grace settled down on the floor beside him. Startled, the dark blond backed away. "Y-you aren't supposed to come near me!"

"Aw, shucks," she merely yawned, but she could feel the tension growing in the bystanders as well. Malia, meanwhile, leaned casually against the wall with her arms folded and shrugged indifferently. "If she wants to become goulash so badly."

"I-I'm a monster, you shouldn't have even seen it," Liam stammered embarrassedly, lowering his head in shame. His blue eyes were fixed lazily on the stone floor.

"You're not a monster," Scott interjected in a soft voice that seemed to do little to comfort the boy, however.

Grace leaned back against the wall, which was so cold it sent goosebumps down her spine. Encouragingly, she looked at him. "Then I guess we're in the same boat."

"But nothing happened to you," he objected whiningly, but finally looked up again. Hesitantly, he let his eyes roam over those present. "Did it?"

"Still, my name is on that stupid list," she said defiantly and began to grin. "Who knows, maybe I'm something much creepier and scarier than you'll ever be."

Surprised, his blue eyes crossed hers and he couldn't seem to think of a suitable response to her statement. Triumphantly, Grace's smile intensified as the corners of his mouth began to twitch in amusement, as if he found the thought quite amusing.

"Normal people do more monstrous things in a day than we'll do in our entire lives," Scott agreed with her, and was the catalyst for the tightening of the smile on Liam's lips with which he finally conceded defeat.