━ ✧° ☾⋆⁺ ━

⠀⠀𝙂𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙩 𝙆𝙖𝙩𝙚, 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙣𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣. He didn't seem out of place, or even surprised to see her standing in front of him. Alive and well.

"And I thought you'd be a little happy to see me again after playing the grieving father over my coffin to satisfy the tabloids," she said with a slight laugh. "Cold and indifferent. You'll always be true to yourself."

She paused.

"You know, there was a time when I was really convinced that I was your favorite child. It's funny, isn't it?"

Kate looked down at the black substance that was dripping from Gerard's nose.

"I wondered what your life was like after all these years of not hearing from you," she continued. "I had a lot of questions. Were you still hunting? Assuming, of course, that you might still be able to hold a gun. Had you grown a beard or had you finally moved into our country house in Lozère? And then, by the merest chance, I was able to get my hands on your medical file indicating that you had beaten the cancer, but that you were still clinically ill, which is why the doctors were keeping you here until a diagnosis was made."

Gerard pulled a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and regurgitated more blackish secretions.

"But that's unlikely to happen, unless they figure out that the cause of your condition is nothing more than the rejection of a bite. I guess the last step in getting to know your enemy is to look like him."

She bowed her head.

"Incredible sense of morality."

"Why are you here?" he said.

"I want you to see that I have succeeded in accomplishing what you failed to do with a plan that you probably thought was solid and well thought out," Kate replied. "You gained a few more years to get to the same point, but I died to get a second chance."

Gradually, the color of her skin turned blue and her greenish irises began to glow like two phosphorescent points in the dim light of the room. Another flash of lightning came, this time more strongly, and Gerard could see her prominent canines protruding from the corners of her mischievous lips.

If he had been impassive before, he now wore a look of obvious disgust that surpassed his disgust at the mucus that kept coming out of his orifices.

"Sometimes you choose a path, but sometimes it chooses you," Kate added. "This power called to me and I just took the opportunities that came my way. Anyone else would have done the same, right, Dad?"

"You're not my daughter," Gerard spat in a distinct voice. "My daughter was killed because she was unable to defend her own honor, and the honor of the name she bore. She was weak, cowardly, and not fit to rise to the rank of excellence to which the ancestors before her belonged. She was a disgrace to our family."

Kate had not expected any different from him. He had always made it clear that she had never lived up to his expectations.

"I see nothing but an aberration," he continued, continuing to stare at her with deep dislike. "A mistake of nature that should never have been born."

A grimace appeared on his face.

"You're not even a werewolf. You're a monstrosity."

She smiled at him.

"For once, we're both agreeing."

With rage, Gerard grabbed a glass from the cart and threw it at Kate, who caught it in mid-air and broke it between her fingers.

"Be careful with that. You might cut yourself."

Thunder rumbled through the clinic, followed by yet another flash of lightning. Gerard blinked and when his vision cleared, he was alone in the room.

━ ✧° ☾⋆⁺ ━

♫𝙋𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

Ruelle - Monsters

Imagine Dragons - Believer

Sabrina Carpenter - Looking At Me

━ ✧° ☾⋆⁺ ━

"His eyes were petrified, almost exorbitant," Melissa explained to a police officer who was taking notes. "It was as if he had died as he was flinching."

Access to the main hospital corridor was completely blocked off to avoid any traffic that might interfere with the investigative team, which was dispatched to the scene.

"You didn't see anyone go into her room ?" he asked.

"With this killer in town lately, we've stepped up our security. Only staff members can open the doors with a pass."

The policeman closed his notebook.

"If you think of anything, contact us immediately."

She nodded. He walked away and exchanged a few words with the sheriff, who then approached the reception area where Melissa was.

"I've called in a night shift to surround the perimeter," he said. "As a safety measure, I have doubled the number of people."

"I don't want to question the efficiency of your work, but I don't think that it will be enough, she said. It is more than clear that we are missing something."

"We'll find out what it is."

She looked at him, puzzled.

"How many more people will lose their lives in the meantime?"

They stared at each other sadly.

"Sheriff!"

Parrish stopped at their level.

"The body of the missing girl was found this morning in the woods," he said.

Noah sighed with dismay as he realized he was going to have to tell another family that their child would not be coming home to them, safe and sound. Despite the longevity of his career, it was a task he could never get used to.

"His corpse had the same marks as the previous victims," Jordan continued.

"The Benefactors," Mr. Stilinski realized.

Parrish nodded. Melissa frowned.

"I'm sorry, did I miss something?"

"You didn't tell her about the cult?" Jordan questioned, giving the sheriff a surprised look.

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around it."

"Wait, what?" exclaimed Melissa, bewildered.

"They kill people," Parrish replied.

He looked around furtively.

"Non human ones," he added in a low voice.

"How many people does this 'they' refers to?" she asked.

"We don't know yet."

Melissa turned to the sheriff.

"Do Scott and Stiles know?"

 "It's Scott and Stiles," he replied with a shrug.

She gave him a stern look, upset that he had withheld such important information. At the same time, Agent McCall was moving in their direction.

"Stilinski, I'm sorry to hear that you've lost one of your men. I have been instructed to inform you that he will be replaced by one of my colleagues."

"And who made the decision?" replied the sheriff, taking a defensive tone.

"The federal judge authorized it and if I may say so, we just made it easier for you."

Noah frowned.

"I've been going through your dead officer's file," Rafael said. "He was known to have several disciplinary records. I hesitate to think that you weren't already planning to get rid of him."

Mr. Stilinski was about to answer, but McCall got a call. He glanced at Melissa, then walked away and picked up the phone.

"Am I imagining things, or is this the FBI's way of keeping you on your toes?"

"They're not going to stop until this case is over, but we're not going to give them what they want," said the sheriff. "We're going to make more efforts to put an end to this situation once and for all."

Two paramedics crossed the hallway pushing a gurney carrying the pale, rigid body of Officer Haigh. The corneas of his eyes were covered with a white veil and the veins in his face had turned green.

Noah turned his head away. Jordan swallowed, then seemed to think.

"There's a second killer," he said.

"What?" replied Mr. Stilinski.

"Haigh was human. He couldn't have been in the Benefactors' sights. Besides, the M.O. doesn't match. But it does match the bodies in the Walcotts' cold storage."

He paused.

"So, are they the ones responsible?" asked the sheriff without hiding his confusion.

"No, otherwise they would still be alive."

"But they too were human, Melissa intervened. "I saw their remains in the morgue. They weren't marked."

"Maybe they knew something," Parrish speculated.

"Unless they miraculously decide to rise from the grave and tell us, we can forget about this one," added Noah.

"We still have their son, who is in Eichen."

"Wesley," Melissa pointed out.

━ ✧° ☾⋆⁺ ━

"The police is going to come and question me?" Wesley asked, in his cell.

He was seated on his bed, leaned against a wall covered in peeling paint. Olivia sat on a chair across from him, jotting down her usual observations in a notepad.

Ever since the young man was admitted to Eichen House, they had conducted various therapy sessions to help him overcome the traumas left by the massacre that had decimated his entire family.

"Last time they saw you, you could barely speak," She said. "They just want to gather information. You just have to tell them what you know, but if you don't feel ready yet, you can tell me. I'm here to listen to you."

"You sound like my psychologist," He said.

"I'm worried about you," replied Olivia.

She leaned towards him.

"Would you like that?" She asked. "For me to be your psychologist? It might help you open up more?"

"I don't know... Maybe..."

Wesley paused.

"I feel more comfortable with you than with the others, anyway," He added.

"I'm glad to hear that," said Olivia. "I want you to feel comfortable confiding in me if you feel the need."

"I saw my parents get murdered in front of me. I don't know how I can talk to someone about that."

"You can always try."

He hesitated, then licked his lips before meeting the young woman's gaze.

"I... I feel like I abandoned them."

"You were afraid for your own life, which is perfectly understandable," She replied.

He shook his head.

"I ran away. I ran with all my might and I never once thought to look back. I could have saved them. I could have fought for them."

A lump formed in his throat.

"There's an expression that says "if we could only do the world over," Olivia explained. "It means our regrets, our remorse and our mistakes are part of our history and it is up to each of us to learn to move forward with the consequences that some of our actions and decisions have created in our lives."

"Easier said than done," Wesley replied.

"But you're capable of it," She said.

She gave him a tender and compassionate smile.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"You don't see me as a complete loser, even though that's probably what I am."

"I don't judge the people I see," declared Olivia. "You can trust me."

"I heard about that boy and girl who died last week," He said.

"Yes, it's terrible," She commented. "But don't worry, those are isolated cases. Statistically, only one category of patients is affected. The rest depends on a succession of factors and circumstances."

Olivia wrote some additional notes, then leaned towards Wesley again to hand him a stress ball. Confused, he grabbed the rubber object and rolled it between his palms.

"Could you describe how you feel holding this ball in your hand?" She asked. "Focus on the sensation of its texture and weight."

"I can feel its elasticity," He replied. "It's like... like I'm trying to hold onto something slipping away."

"And what does manipulating it make you feel?"

He thought for a moment.

"I don't know... Focused, I guess."

"Exactly. It's the result of a connection between your body and your mind. It's a tool to help you ground yourself in the present moment and feel safe in difficult times."

Wesley seemed to ponder her words, his gaze fixed on the ball he squeezed in his hand.

"Is it... normal?" He asked, his voice trembling slightly. "For me to feel like this?"

"There's no normalcy when it comes to how we feel things. Each of us has different ways of reacting to the challenges that life throws on our path. What matters is finding ways that help us move forward in our healing process."

Olivia glanced at her watch and stood up from her chair.

"I'll see you soon, Wesley," She said.

She walked out of the cell. Through the rectangular window in the door, she stared at him before turning away.

━ ✧° ☾⋆⁺ ━

"What do you think about next Monday?" asked Scott as he opened his locker.

"I won't be available," Kira replied. "I have to take my dad to the dentist, he hates going alone, but it relaxes him to know I'm in the waiting room."

"This Saturday?"

"I can't, I promised my mom I'd help her water her plants and the dwarf bamboos are high maintenance."

"Friday?"

"It's going to be tough, I have to pick up my car from the mechanic. He noticed there were red ants crawling around under the hood."

Scott raised his eyebrows. Kira sighed.

"I know it sounds like I'm trying to make up a fake excuse, but I swear I'm really not," she said. "I want to spend time with you."

Scott let out a sigh of his own.

"We could skip school," he suggested.

Kira didn't look too enthusiastic.

"What? I did it once and..."

He remembered the look of disappointment on his mother's face after the very first parent-teacher conference. He'd been given two months of housework and a significant reduction in his allowance.

"It didn't do any good, so let's forget it," he said.

"I agree," said Kira.

"We'll find time."

"Or, you know, now that I think about it, we could-"

Stiles suddenly burst in between them.

"You know what I was thinking?" he said, putting his arms around their shoulders to pull them close. "We should all carpool together. I could pick you up at the beginning of the week, Kira will drive at the end and Scott will drive back?"

They both exchanged a glance, uncomfortable. Since his argument with Malia, Stiles had started to be very present with them and his company was becoming more and more burdensome.

"No offense, but I hate driving your Jeep," said Scott.

"What?" exclaimed Stiles, outraged.

"Your shifter squeaks and your odometer doesn't work."

"I told you before, you have to hit it. Five hits to the left, then three in the middle to reset the needle."

He paused as he looked at each of them in turn.

"You know what? I have a feeling you don't want to have me on your back, in fact I almost felt like I was bothering you last time during lunch."

"I have to go," Kira said and hurried off.

Stiles watched her walk away suspiciously.

"Does she have a habit of being evasive with you? You should be careful."

"What?" Scott replied with a grimace.

"Is everything okay with you two?"

"Yes?" Scott replied, troubled by his question. "What about you? Since you're not with Malia, it's like you were constantly avoiding being on your own."

"Thanks for letting me know you think I'm clingy. I thought I was your best friend and we could do everything together. Except using the bathroom at the same time, obviously. The last time it happened, I think I became insensitive in one nostril."

"You didn't tell me you missed her that much."

"I didn't know it was so obvious," Stiles replied, embarrassed. "I'm trying to move on, but I still feel just as bad."

"You have to stop torturing yourself. She's mad at you, but she won't hold it against you forever."

"I just want to make sure she's okay. That she doesn't do anything that could get her into trouble. I'd like you to talk to her."

Scott could sense the worry and anxiety in her voice.

"Please."

He nodded.

"I will."

They understood that they were both willing to do whatever it took to protect her.

"Did you see the security guards they placed at the entrance to the school?" asked Stiles. "It's great if they can intimidate a bunch of killers, but they literally jumped on me when I advised them to increase the volt power of their tasers."

Scott shook his head, laughing.

"Let the police handle it, Stiles."

"Someone has to keep things organized and I volunteer that person to be me."

"Right now, the main thing we need to do is volunteer to go to our classroom before the bell rings," Scott said.

He took one last book from his locker.

"Does Aibee know your password?"

"What?"

Stiles pointed to the blank slate attached to the back of the locker door. Scott turned to see for himself and noticed the presence of fuchsia glitter that formed the letter A surrounded by a heart.

━ ✧° ☾⋆⁺ ━

"Hi, Aibee, can I talk to you for a moment?" asked Cat hesitantly, afraid to disturb her.

"Sure, let me just send a tweet," Aibee said as she tapped on her iPhone keyboard.

She pressed the screen.

"There you go!" she said with pride.

"What did you write?"

"I posted a tweet," read Aibee.

She put her phone away.

"My followers love to know everything I do during the day," she explained. "Are you on social media too?

"I don't use the Internet," Cat replied. "My mom says it's a way to numb the neurons and keep the light out of the darkness. That's why I'm coming to you."

She reached into her bag and pulled out a pendant.

"I wanted to give you this. It's an amulet that acts as a purifier of karmic energies and a shield against evil waves. My mother made it for you. It was made from Onyx stones. They are attached to the root chakra which represents the connection to the Earth."

Aibee carefully inspected the object in her hands.

"Won't it rust?" she asked doubtfully. "Because I hate gold-plated chains."

"It's strong and very good quality," Cat assured her. "The more you put it on, the luckier it will be."

"I'll wear it another time, it doesn't match my clothes. It's nice of your mom, though."

"She also wants you to know that if you want to come back to the house, she'll be happy to have you come in for a hypnosis session."

"Does she have a license for that kind of thing?"

"She attended a seminar given by a shaman," Cat replied.

She sensed Aibee's confusion and chose to deflect the subject for fear of scaring her away.

"I've been thinking about your offer to go to lacrosse practice and I think I want to go," she said. "It's not often that I'm offered activities outside of class or even in general."

"It'll be fun, you'll see," Aibee said. "But I wouldn't recommend bringing your mom."

━ ✧° ☾⋆⁺ ━

"LET'S GO!" shouted Peggy, clapping her hands.

Stiles exhaled loudly as he did a series of push-ups on the field to warm up.

"I can't take it anymore..."

He struggled to pull himself up onto his tired biceps.

"That girl..."

His face reddened under the effort.

"Is killing me..."

"Hang in there, Stiles, we're almost there," said Scott, who went at his own pace to encourage him.

"Recovery camps are more fun," Danny groaned from beside them.

"I can't feel my skeleton anymore," added Kira, trying to ignore her pain.

Peggy passed through the ranks of the players, most of whom were on the verge of passing out.

Liam, on the other hand, had already finished.

"I WANT TO SEE YOU IN ACTION! EVEN IF YOUR SWEAT IS COMING OUT OF YOUR NOSE!"

"We're in hell!" complained Stiles. "Where's the coach?"

"I DON'T WANT YOU TO GO UP SO HIGH THAT YOUR SPINE LOOKS LIKE A CRESCENT MOON AND COME DOWN SO LOW THAT THE GRASS GETS IN YOUR EYES! screamed Peggy.

"They look like they're in pain," Cat commented from the bleachers.

"Yeah, it's sad for them, but look at Stiles," said Aibee, who was looking through a pair of binoculars.

She giggled as she watched his arms shake, ready to give out at any moment.

"Isn't he your brother?"

"We just live under the same roof and share the same last name, it doesn't mean anything."

Rachel joined them. She noticed Cat's presence.

"Hi, Cat, right?" she said, smiling. "I'm glad to see you again."

She smiled back at her.

"I'd like to get to know you better, but you're too discreet."

"I told her the same thing when we were in the bathroom," Aibee added.

Rachel frowned.

"She needs to open up and change her name. What do you think of Katniss Evergreen?"

"I think it's Everdeen and it's already taken," Rachel replied.

"That's why I put a G for Gale instead. He's so hot."

"I like Peeta better."

"He gave her a piece of moldy bread."

"In the boo-"

Aibee pretended to drift off into a deep sleep.

On the field, four players collapsed to the ground.

"ARE YOU CALCIUM LACKING OR WHAT?" yelled Peggy. "GET DOWN THERE!"

She pointed to the bench and blew her whistle.

"TWELVE MINUTES TO GO! THE NEXT PERSON WHO QUITS WILL BE WASHING ALL THE WINDOWS IN THE BUILDING WITH THE JANITOR!"

The coach approached her, moved.

"You're so good, I want to take a leave of absence," he said. "It's like you were born for this."

"Thanks, Uncle Bobby. The secret is to show them who's boss! To pluck them before they beast us!"

"It's brilliant!" he realized, gloating.

They split the team into two clans. Those who had finished the push-ups on one side and those who were still struggling to overcome their physical limits on the other.

"ONE MINUTE TO GO!" announced Peggy.

A player racing to catch a ball in her net was heading straight for her and threatening to run into her. She stepped back in time and fell hard on top of Stiles just as the timer went off.

"I can't believe it!" she exclaimed in amazement. "You prevented my fall!"

"I did?" muttered Stiles, face down.

Peggy stood up and he rolled over on his back, catching his breath before standing up, trying to hide the twinge of pain he felt from his many aches and pains.

"Wait, I know you," she said.

She stared at him for a long time, squinting her eyes.

"Oh yes, I remember! You were there when that crazy girl attacked me the other time."

Her face softened instantly and she addressed to him then a warm smile.

"I really appreciate what you did," she said. "It was extremely brave and... kind."

Peggy bit her lip and Stiles was sure he was hallucinating.

"It was nothing," he replied with an embarrassed laugh.

"Don't be modest. You came to my rescue and I'm grateful."

She took a step towards him and touched the letters on his shirt.

"Stilinski, she read in a languid voice.

Stiles stiffened and swallowed. He broke out in a cold sweat as she buried her head against his shoulder and he lifted his chin, unsettled by the little personal space he had left. During the few seconds which followed, he had the impression that she sniffed him. He threw a glance of distress to Scott who attended the scene in the greatest incomprehension.

"I can't wait to see how you do," said Peggy in a honeyed tone.

"Yes, me too," he murmured as he awkwardly darted to the center of the field.

━ ✧° ☾⋆⁺ ━

Liam took advantage of the half-time break to get a drink of water in the locker room. Without missing a beat, Scott and Stiles followed him and charged at him before dragging him into a remote corner.

"Let me go!" he growled as he struggled. "You swore to leave me alone!"

"Yes, but we didn't put it on paper, so there's no point in complaining to your lawyer about it," Stiles said.

They let him go.

"What do you want this time?" Liam asked, giving them the dark look they were now used to.

"We have to warn you," Scott said.

Liam frowned.

"All these murders that are going on will probably continue and we can't keep you away, it would be too risky."

"More risky than me being chased by werewolves?"

"Why is he still going on about this?" Stiles said, turning to Scott. "I've never seen a kid with such a grudge, it's crazy!"

"Call me a kid again and I'll-"

Scott stepped in between them and grabbed Liam's arm.

"We don't have time for this!" he exclaimed, trying to reason with them. "This is serious. People are dying. There's a cult whose goal is to wipe out supernatural creatures."

Liam broke away from him.

"And what does that have to do with me?"

Stiles raised his eyebrows in bewilderment.

"I don't believe this, is this supposed to be a sick joke? You're literally half-human, half-wolf, do we have to draw you a picture?"

"Only if you can hold a pencil better than a ball," Liam replied dryly.

"Guys, stop it!" Scott interjected. "Liam, just because nothing's happened to you yet doesn't mean you're safe. None of us are."

"I'm kind of safe, though," said Stiles.

Scott looked at him, annoyed.

"What ? You don't think so?"

Liam grinned.

"One of the victims was killed by a player on the team," Scott revealed.

"And you have proof of that?"

"Not in any concrete way, but we know for sure and that's enough," Stiles replied. "I mean, I was 99.9 percent sure that Scott was going to be a lycanthrope when he got bitten and did my intuition play tricks on me?"

Liam shook his head, irritated every time he spoke.

"It's true that at one point we thought that player was you," Stiles said.

"Is that why you broke into my room?" Liam asked.

"We were looking for the weapon of the crime. Your lacrosse stick. But we didn't find anything."

"And then we realized it wasn't you," Scott added.

"Yeah, well, I did check your locker in the locker room," said Stiles. "By the way, it might still be a little dented from that."

"What did you do?" replied Scott, bewildered.

"You know I don't trust people as easily as you do," Stiles replied with a shrug. "I had to be sure. Then everything became more obvious to me. I mean, did you see his temperament? If it was him, he'd get caught without a doubt."

Liam clenched his fists. Scott noticed and motioned for Stiles to be quiet.

"We don't know who they are, but they're probably watching us and they're hiding it well," he explained. "We have to be careful."

"They must have their reasons," Liam added.

"Are you seriously defending murderers?"

"I'm not defending anyone, but I don't think they're the only ones hiding something."

Liam stared at Scott.

"I know you're watching this Gerard Argent guy and that he's Kate's father."

Scott frowned.

"How did you-"

"I'm keeping an eye on you, too."

Liam turned to Stiles.

"You two."

Scott and Stiles looked at each other, surprised.

"I told you. I'm going to find out what you're up to."

"Liam, you're wrong about everything," Scott said. "We're keeping an eye on Gerard because he's unpredictable and much more dangerous than Kate."

Liam arched an eyebrow.

"He's in a wheelchair."

"That doesn't take away all the horrible things he's done!" warned Stiles. "Don't let his wrinkles and white hair fool you! This guy has demolished my face without the slightest qualm!"

"It's not that hard for me to imagine," said Liam.

Stiles glared at him.

"We don't have time to explain everything," Scott said. "But you shouldn't believe what you think is the truth. You need to trust us, Liam."

"I don't trust anyone," he spat.

"You'll have to, sooner or later."

The sound of the whistle pulled them out of their conversation. Liam left, jostling them as he walked past them.

━ ✧° ☾⋆⁺ ━

"BRAVO, SCOTT!" shouted Aibee cheerfully after he scored another goal.

Cat followed suit and stood up to applaud. The game was coming to an end and the players were gathering around the coach one last time to debrief.

"I seemed to see some improvement today, but that may also be due to my deteriorating myopia," he said. "What did you think of this session, Peggy?"

"I thought you were pretty good, but I was much more impressed when my donkey played volleyball at family dinners," she told the entire team. "I might as well tell you that Timmy had quite a kick!"

"Does he still compete?" asked Finstock.

"Not since he was hit by a tractor," she replied.

The coach looked pretty devastated by the news.

"Anyway, we're going to step up your training and make it even more intensive," Peggy said.

The players moaned loudly.

"Is there anyone among you who would have a problem with that?" she exclaimed in a threatening tone that startled them.

Jeff fell face first into the grass, pushed by his classmates.

"Greenberg, who do you think you are?" the coach shouted. "You're going to the janitor's office after you've packed up all the equipment!"

The young man lowered his head in shame. He heard muffled laughter behind him.

"Well, we're done here!" announced Peggy. "Before you leave, I want you to know that I'm here for you if you have any questions or free time on your schedule."

She wrapped a strand of her hair around her index finger teasingly.

The players dispersed, some almost at a run.

"Stilinski?" she said, stepping in front of Stiles to block his path. "I wanted to address you individually. I really thought you had something the others didn't. All the times you missed a shot and rolled up in a ball on the grass... That makes you unique."

Stiles didn't hide his amazement. Everyone knew he was a mediocre player. That she would value his lack of skill in this way was not only strange, but extremely confusing. He wondered if she had lost her lucidity and soon got her answer when she began to caress his forearm. He cleared his throat to cover his discomfort.

"Uh, yeah... How long have you been Finstock's niece?"

He shook his head, realizing the tactlessness of her question.

"I mean, that you exist?" he continued, immediately embarrassed by the words that came out of his mouth. "I mean, that you're-"

"In Beacon Hills?" she interrupted him. "It's been a few days. I had to come because my room in Tennessee got flooded due to a swollen river. My parents chose to fix our windmill first, so i'm living with Uncle Bobby until then."

"So you're staying here temporarily?"

"I'll be staying longer if I keep liking what I see," Peggy replied, looking him over from head to toe.

She turned on her heels to join the coach and Stiles realized he had been holding his breath the whole time.

Aibee, Cat and Rachel left the stands to meet Andrew on the field.

"So how does it feel to be my favorite player?"

"Are you sure it wouldn't be Scott?"

Rachel hugged him.

"You were great as always, love," she said.

He turned to Cat.

"We've expanded your fan club," Aibee said, pointing to her.

Andrew nodded at her and she waved her hand roughly.

"I'm giving you a ride? he offered. "All three of you?"

At the same time, someone bumped into Aibee.

"Oh, sorry, I did that on purpose," said Peggy, smiling wryly.

Aibee glared at her.

"Just like you obviously swallowed a hyena on purpose," she spat, referring to her high-pitched voice.

The redhead's cheerful expression faded.

"I saw you shouting orders at the team, are you trying to make a name for yourself or are you applying to be a prison guard?"

"Take back what you just said," Peggy scolded.

"I will, once you'll remove that fake mole."

Peggy put a hand to her cheek, shocked by her unerring powers of observation.

Some of the players who had just emerged from the locker room began to crowd around them. Aibee turned to her friends, overwhelmed by the situation.

"Wait for me in the parking lot," she told them, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. "I won't be long."

Peggy frowned warily, not understanding what she intended to do.

"Let's see what you've got," said Aibee.

She turned on the music on her phone after taking it out of her bag, then threw it into the hands of a boy who caught it with admiration.

She then began to sway to the rhythm of the tune. Whistles and cheers went up. Peggy gritted her teeth and let the music take over, giving the green light for an impromptu dance battle. She gave it her best shot, but she was aware that most eyes were still on her rival.

Now, Aibee was no longer wiggling, but was executing moves worthy of a high-level gymnast's performance. Mouths dropped open and eyes widened as she performed a combination of acrobatic tricks such as front somersaults, back flips and splits. Peggy just managed to bend forward to touch the back of her feet without bending her knees.

The duel ended when the crowd parted to reveal the presence of the coach.

"They send you to school to get smart and you jump around like flea-bitten locusts?"

"Obviously, you're the only one who didn't like it," said Aibee.

"Don't you owe me a hundred and fifty dollars?" he asked, squinting.

"Uncle Bobby, I told you to wait for me in the pickup," Peggy grumbled.

"You're the coach, aren't you?" said Aibee. "I just had an idea that will motivate the whole team unanimously."

"Is it an idea that will pay my bills?" replied Finstock, suspiciously.

"I propose the creation of a cheerleading squad."

The coach let out a hearty laugh.

"Cheerleaders?" he laughed. "On a lacrosse team? What's next ? You want us to start a marching band?"

"That depends. Are you any good at the trombone?"

Finstock stood back and realized she wasn't making a joke.

"It might be fun, Uncle Bobby," Peggy said, putting aside the fact that she agreed with Aibee's suggestion. "We'd stand out from the crowd and get more notoriety."

The coach seemed to be gradually considering this possibility.

"We'll need sponsors, but I can get some if I get in touch with the weather girl from 1995."

"So, I'm going to be the captain," Aibee said confidently.

"I think you're totally barking up the wrong tree, because it's going to be me!" protested Peggy. "Tell him, Uncle Bobby!"

"You'll be co-captains," said Finstock.

"What?" they protested.

"The auditions are next week, so I'll leave you in charge of the organization."

He left, leaving Aibee and Peggy alone on the field. They threw lightning bolts at each other.

"I prefer to warn you, said the redhead. "I don't let anyone boss me around, I'm my own boss."

"It is what you say to you when you wake up to reassure you?" replied Aibee before moving away by leaving it in plan.

She found Rachel and Andrew in the parking lot.

"So you two had a fight?" he asked. "It's about whether I should take you into custody and plead for you.

"I don't see where you get that assumption from," she replied, getting into the back of his car. "I never give in to violence."

She paused.

"Not when I'm wearing these earrings," she added, showing off her lobes.

Rachel and Andrew laughed.

"Where's Cat?" asked Aibee.

"She went her own way," Rachel replied. "She had an emergency. You know, I never thought you'd hang out with someone like her. You two are so different."

"It's true that she's an Gemini and I'm a Sagittarius," said Aibee.

She thinks for a moment.

"Or is it the other way around?"

━ ✧° ☾⋆⁺ ━

Malia heard the front doorbell ring. She opened it to find Scott standing on the porch of her house.

"What are you doing here?"

He could tell by her tone that she wasn't thrilled to see him.

"I didn't see you at school today," he said.

"Well, now you see me."

She was about to shut the door in his face, but he grabbed the handle. Malia's eyes hardened.

"I don't want to talk to you, Scott. I'm mad at you too. You lied to me."

"I know, I'm not looking for an apology to make things right, I just want to know how you are. I just want to know how you feel."

Scott's eyes became insistent. Malia could tell he was trying to probe her every emotion to break through the invisible barrier between them.

"It's okay," she replied briefly.

"I came because Stiles-"

"I don't want to talk about Stiles," she interrupted. "Or Isaac."

"What happened with Isaac?" he asked, confused.

"Nothing," Malia retorted.

She brought the door towards her.

"Wait," Scott insisted, slowing down his movement.

She was no longer hiding her annoyance.

"If you want to give your father a second chance, be sure he deserves it," he added.

He got on his motorcycle, abandoning Malia in full reflection.

━ ✧° ☾⋆⁺ ━

"I knew you were capable of a lot of things, but trying to give your father a heart attack is pretty extreme," said Peter, picking up a book from the library in his loft.

"He's tougher than he looks," said Kate, sitting on the steps of the spiral staircase.

She was absent-mindedly playing with a pocketknife.

"He made it clear he wanted nothing more to do with me."

She raised the blade.

"His dead daughter," she added, contemplating it.

"It could have been worse, he could have sent you these words in a postcard," joked Peter.

She threw him an annoyed glance.

"It's always a hard step to reconnect with family," he added. "I've been through it myself, but it's never too late to start."

He settled comfortably into his velvet chair. Kate snickered

"You? You think you can raise a teenager? She's seventeen, she doesn't care about authority. She doesn't want to be told what to do or how to do it."

"The famous age of rebellion," Peter replied. "You're still not out of it, are you?"

The doorbell rang. He went to open the door and found himself facing Derek.

"My charming nephew," he said with a smile.

He noticed the presence of Braeden.

"You do not introduce me?"

"Peter, here is Braeden," said Derek. "Braeden, here is the egocentric narcissist who also happens to be my uncle."

━ ✧° ☾⋆⁺ ━

"Before I start asking you questions, I want to make sure you understand the importance of this," said Rafael, sitting across from Wesley.

Standing behind the one-way mirror that overlooked the interrogation room, the sheriff looked at them, arms crossed against his chest.

"That killer who cowardly attacked your family might come back to get you. In most cases, this happens within months of the first attempt. To avoid this risk, we will need to gather enough information to be able to find him. Absolutely nothing can be overlooked. Even a snippet of memory can be useful. Sometimes the most important clues are found in simple details."

"I'll tell you what I remember," the teenager assured.

"Good. A witness reported that you mentioned the word circle several times, would you be able to explain the context of that reaction?"

"I was in shock when I said that. I was delirious."

Rafael slid an image across the table, showing the mark of three circles cutting into the skin of a victim.

"Does that remind you of anything in particular?"

Wesley shook his head.

"No," he replied. "Nothing at all. Someone was after my parents. It was premeditated."

"So, you think your parents were the main ones involved?"

"What?" Wesley asked with confusion.

"Your brother, Sean," Rafael said. "Are you implying that he wasn't in the crosshairs, or you either?"

"That's not what I said, I..."

"Your parents still kept dead bodies in their basement, that's pretty weird, don't you think?"

"Are you implying that they killed these people?"

"I'm not hiding the fact that until proven otherwise, that's the assumption we're following."

"They had nothing to do with it," insisted Wesley. "The person or persons who did this had already planned it. There must have been some kind of plan."

"A plan in which you are the flaw," said Rafael. "You're the only person so far to have escaped from this criminal. Generally speaking, that's called a lucky break, only in the police world it's called a grey area."

Wesley frowned. Officer McCall gathered his files.

"We'll let you know later," he said.

He left the interview room and joined the sheriff.

"He's not telling the whole truth," he confided.

They turned to the one-way mirror, observing Wesley carefully.

━ ✧° ☾⋆⁺ ━

"A cult against supernatural creatures? said Peter. "People are getting more and more creative I see. "What do you say they call themselves?"

"The Benefactors," answered Derek.

Crouching behind the kitchen island so as not to betray her presence inside the loft, Kate carefully listened.

"When I was a kid, there was a rumor going around," Peter recalled. "The elders used it as a tale to whisper to the disobedient. The rumor was that people would disappear and be found at daybreak, covered in scars."

"I remember that story," said Derek. "It was supposed to warn us about strangers."

"Yes, but you forget why it was so prevalent. It wasn't just a story. It was based on real events. Real disappearances that came to no real conclusion except that they all happened in Beacon Hills, without exception. And now, years later, we find ourselves with surprisingly similar cases. It doesn't take a detective to see that the past is repeating itself. For centuries we have been forced to cohabit with people who only want to see us extinguished. It's the old cat and mouse game, but you don't have to worry about these killers because you don't fit their criteria anymore."

Derek frowned.

"Something's changed in you lately," Peter noted. "Could it be a new diet? A new cologne? Fewer fangs?"

Braeden took a step toward him, her hand resting on the handle of the gun in her pocket.

"I didn't know you had a bodyguard," he said, amused.

Derek dissuaded her from doing anything.

"Since when did you lose your powers?"

"Since Kate stole them from me," answered Derek.

"Stole them from you, you say?"

Peter looked intrigued.

"And how is that possible?"

"I don't know, but when I see her, I'll make sure to ask her before I make her regret setting foot in here again."

Once Derek and Braeden had left, Kate emerged from her hiding place.

"You didn't mention to me that you were on good terms," she said.

"I won't say that," Peter replied. "He still has a grudge against me, but he'll get over it. Blood isn't everything, but it still counts."

He turned back to his chair.

"You're lucky he lost his nose," he added. I could smell you from the front door.

He moistened his index finger to turn the page of his book.

"Are you going to tell me how you got Derek's powers now, or would you rather wait until dinnertime?"

"I had nothing to do with it," Kate replied. "I'm just starting to master the magic. You know that if it were me, I wouldn't just take his powers, I'd take yours too. What's left of it, anyway."

Peter interrupted his reading.

"Do I need to remind you that you live under my roof?"

"I guess that satisfies some of your fantasies."

"I only have one," he said with a wry smile.

He put down his book and walked over to her.

"But I would love to have fun exploring yours," he breathed on a seductive tone.

He went to light his fireplace.

"How about an evening alone?" he suggested.

The next moment, Peter saw his book projected in the flames. He turned to Kate.

"I wasn't particularly hooked on that one anyway."

━ ✧° ☾⋆⁺ ━

Sitting at a bar counter, Chris waited for his order.

"Here you go, a Dirty Martini with a lime on the side," said the waitress. "That'll be strong enough to keep your mind off of what's bothering you."

"Excuse me?" he asked, coming out of his thoughts.

She put a glass in front of him. It was a young woman with black hair cut short. She seemed to be in her thirties.

"I had ordered a beer."

"I've run into a lot of you," She said. "They spend the evening watching their ice cubes melt and then they leave, leaving half their drink behind to start over the next night. I think you're one of those guys."

"Is that why you only filled my glass halfway?"

"You're not going to end up drunk anyway," The waitress replied with a smile. "He will."

She grabbed a glass from under the counter and made it overflow with alcohol.

"You know how to treat me, doll," said a burly man after having swallowed the contents in one go.

He wiped his mouth with his forearm.

"Make me a sixth round," he added before walking away to the dance floor of the nightclub upstairs.

"You are too well dressed for this kind of place," observed the waitress while resuming her discussion with Chris who sipped his glass. "You're a rich guy, aren't you?"

"I'm a regular."

"Certainly not lately."

"I didn't know there were new owners. The last time I was here, this place was almost going to close for good."

"You always have to be on the lookout for good business," she replied, as she prepared a cocktail.

Chris nodded and looked at her with more interest.

"What do you mean by rich?"

"I hear what it sounds like. You look like the perfect business partner."

She poured herself a drink.

"I'm thinking legal business, of course," she added.

"I always obey the rules and codes," Chris said.

"That makes two of us."

The waitress held out her arm to invite him to toast. They finished their drink.

  "So, what's bothering you ?" she said.

"Being forced to do the dirty work I'm expected to do," he replied.

"A dirty job that can pay off, I guess."

"I'm not a greedy man. Some values are priceless. It's better to alienate people than to lose the ability to recognize yourself."

The woman was so engrossed in his words that she didn't see him pull out his wallet.

"How much?"

She surprised him by holding a bottle of beer under his nose.

"On the house," she said.

   Chris walked away. The bar was empty for the next few hours, until there was only one customer left, the burly man who was now staggering toward the counter to beg the waitress for yet another drink.

"My service is over," she informed while finishing to wipe the bar.

"Come on," he begged, his breath giving off hints of alcohol. "I saw the way you were looking at me. You've been watching me all night. You can make a little exception for me."

She gave him a drink and he smiled.

"I knew you were attracted to me, baby."

He emptied it of only one mouthful and exhaled, invigorated.

"I live not far, we can meet at the entrance and we'll go to my place," he said. "What do you say?"

The waitress leaned towards him.

"I say que yo no soy tu muñeca, tonto."

  He frowned, not understanding the meaning of these words. Then he felt a burning sensation in his throat. He staggered and fell to the floor dead.

"You could have waited until we closed," said a voice from the back of the room.

Araya appeared.

"I don't do extra hours," the young woman retorted, turning over the CLOSED sign that hung against the bar door.

Araya stepped over the man's body.

"I told you that mountain ash powder would be more effective in a liquid," she said. "Más rápido."

She bowed to examine his condition.

"We're going to need more for tomorrow night."

She snapped her fingers. Two of her henchmen came and lifted the body into a secluded room.

"You're doing a good job," Araya noted. "But you have to stick to the plan. No improvising."

"It was just a conversation," The waitress replied.

"You weren't supposed to talk to him. You were too curious and not for reasons we care about."

"I don't have to do everything you ask. You said that I'm the boss."

"I said that because Severo is out of town and I'll be leaving too in a few days," Araya said.

"So, what? I have to wait quietly for your return without imposing myself too much? I don't have to prove myself. Not anymore."

"Your job is to make sure that the company keeps running and that we make money."

"I'm tired of being a bait," The young woman said. "I want to be in charge."

"I made sacrifices to get you here," Araya reminded her. "Don't make me regret it."

The waitress turned her back and put on a leather jacket, ready to leave.

"Rosario," Araya called out.

She stopped.

"I'm counting on you, hija."

The young woman slammed the door of the bar as she left.

━ ✧° ☾⋆⁺ ━

"I can't believe Mrs. Russell isn't here today," said Kira, as she walked up the stairs to the McCall's porch. "I've heard she's never been absent for a school year. Apparently, one day she came to school when she had measles."

"It's a good thing we don't have class with her this afternoon," Scott replied as he unlocked the door and turned his keys in the lock. "It gives us time to be together."

Kira smiled as she shyly clutched her science book to her chest. They had at least two solid hours ahead of them and the thought gave her butterflies in her stomach.

"So, do you want to pick up where we left off?" she asked, following him inside.

Scott turned around, his eyebrows furrowed.

"The Phantom Menace? "she added to refresh his memory.

He shook his head, confused.

"Unless you'd rather go on to Attack of the Clones," Kira offered.

"I think that's Stiles' favorite," Scott remembered.

"It's good, but it's no match for The Empire Strikes Back."

"In that case, we can just watch that one."

"But we're not going to respect the chronological order at all."

"It's a war that takes place in space," he said. "It's always the same plot every time, right?

Kira laughed and followed him to his room upstairs. She took notice of some details she hadn't noticed before, such as a globe on a shelf and an electric guitar in the corner of the room.

"Do you play often?" she asked, pointing to it.

"I do, when my mom isn't around to hear," Scott replied. "She finds the chords too obnoxious, but I think that's mostly an excuse to hide the fact that she hates that it was a gift from my dad. He gave it to me on my fourteenth birthday with his promotion money."

"And what did she give you?"

"Plywood to cut down on the noise."

They laughed. Scott put his laptop on the carpet.

"We could... I don't know... Make ourselves more comfortable?" she suggested.

"You're right, we can sit on a cushion."

"No... I mean..."

She did not finish her sentence. Scott followed her gaze and realized she was referring to his bed.

"Oh... Uh..."

He stood up and dusted off his pants.

"Yes, we... We can sit there too."

He placed the computer on the bedspread and lay down, leaning his back against the edge of the bed. Kira sat beside him with her arms crossed against her. Scott started the movie.

At times, he asked her questions as he leaned toward her, narrowing the space between their elbows. Kira liked this closeness and after a few minutes, she began to relax considerably, enjoying the opportunity to watch her favorite movie with her favorite person.

━ ✧° ☾⋆⁺ ━

"Lydia!" shouted Stiles, as he stormed into the school library.

Panting, he sat down hastily at his table.

"Shh!" A boy on the table next to them scolded, glaring at him.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you here."

"Why are you panting?" asked Lydia, her eyes fixed on a pile of leaves scattered before her.

"It's that girl, said Stiles, breathing heavily. "Peggy Finstock."

"Like Coach Finstock?"

"They're practically the same person with different genes!" he exclaimed.

Annoyed, the boy closed his book and moved to a table farther away.

"She's his niece and she's been after me since she almost broke my vertebrae when she fell on me during practice," Stiles added. "I think she believes there's some kind of unspoken connection between us."

"And there isn't?" said Lydia, pulling a sheet of paper closer to her face to read it more closely.

"What?" he took offense. "Of course not! We hardly know each other, not at all! And I think I'd know if I felt something for her, and if I did, which I don't, I'd let her know in a much more casual way. True, I'm not the type to be so demonstrative."

For a moment, it seemed to him that Lydia had detached her gaze from the sheet to stare at him with a furtive raising of her eyebrows.

"It doesn't really matter anyway," Stiles said. "My love life is hopeless."

"What's wrong with Malia?"

"I should have been more honest with her. Now I feel like our relationship is hanging by a thread. A thread so tight that it threatens to snap at any moment, and every time it does, I'll break in against my face."

"Sometimes it just takes a little time for everything to fall into place. In the end, it helps you see more clearly."

"Do you see more clearly after all that you have discovered about your grandmother?"

"I'm trying, but it's not that easy," Lydia replied. "I was able to recover some of her things when the shed was emptied. Now that my mother has sold the mansion, she can move on."

"Will you tell her what you know?"

Lydia shook her head, thoughtful.

"I'm not even sure I know anything, "she said.

"What about your visions?"

"They're random."

"But they came to you," Stiles insisted. "They matter."

Lydia looked over the pile of papers that was growing thicker beside her.

"Are you working on your physics paper?" he asked, turning his attention back to her. "I've started writing mine, but so far I've only typed the title and the date."

"I'm reading the bestiary. Parrish borrowed it from Deaton. I asked him to make me copies."

"That must be one hell of a printer," said Stiles.

"I'm looking for all the pages related to the Benefactors," said Lydia.

"Two of us will go faster," he said as he searched with her.

"It's okay, I got."

"I have no intention of leaving this library until I find a way to change my identity so I'm not chased by a groupie waiting for me behind the bathroom door, so you're going to accept my help."

━ ✧° ☾⋆⁺ ━

As Scott went to the kitchen to get snacks for himself and Kira, he heard the doorbell ring.

"Liam?" he asked as he opened the door. "What are you doing here?"

The expression on his face was imperceptible.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked with a frown.

"You destroyed everything," the young man muttered.

"What ?"

- You ruined my life!" Liam roared as he entered the house. "Look at me!"

He brandished his claws. Scott recoiled in surprise.

"How does it feel?" Liam said. "To know that you've completely screwed up my life? You were trying to control me, weren't you? You, the Alpha, making the rules and me, your Beta, always at your service."

"Liam, I never meant to disrupt your life," Scott said calmly. "That night I just tried to do what I thought was best."

"That's the problem, Scott. I didn't ask you to do anything! You made that decision for me!"

"I had to do something!" Scott retorted, starting to lose his temper, irritated by his attitude. "I saved your life! Is that such a bad thing?"

"Things have only gotten worse and you're the one responsible."

Liam's eyes began to glow with a yellowish glow and he let out a growl.

"Liam, wait. We can talk about this."

"I'd rather talk about it in my own way."

   Liam lunged at Scott to attack him. He pushed him hard against a wall and a painting came down on impact. Shards of broken glass hurt Scott's face. He kicked Liam away and they took turns hitting each other harder and harder. Liam suddenly threw him backwards before throwing a chair that broke on his back.

Scott roared with rage. A deep anger rose in him. His irises turned red and an unmistakable fury seized him. With a quick, sharp movement, he grabbed Liam by the throat and knocked him to the ground, pressing his knee against his neck.

"Scott? panicked Kira while running down the stairs, alerted by the noise.

He presented his fangs to her and a shiver of terror seized her. He ignored her pleas and raised his clawed hand before savagely slashing Liam in the abdomen. His blood splashed on his face, while he let his animal side express itself. Liam did not move visibly any more, but he continued to strike him, animated by a ferocious and bestial impulse.

He seemed disconnected from reality.

Uncontrollable.

"Scott!" screamed Kira, horrified. "What have you done?"

   He stared at a figure standing behind her. The individual, impossible to clearly identify due to the grayish, shiny appearance of its skin, attracted his gaze mostly because of the void on the lower part of its face, where its mouth would normally be.

"Scott?" Kira called out, concerned.

Scott, wake up!

   Scott sucked in a breath of oxygen as he opened his eyes. With his heart beating fast, he sat up on his bed to Kira's relief and she stopped shaking him in hopes that he would respond.

"What happened?" he asked, distraught.

"You fell asleep in front of the movie," she said.

"For how long?"

"About five minutes. I didn't want to wake you up, but I heard you stop breathing and I knew something was wrong. You weren't really sleeping, it was more like... you had to fight your way out of sleep... Like you were paralyzed.

━ ✧° ☾⋆⁺ ━

"Couldn't Deaton write bigger?" complained Stiles as she sorts through copies of the bestiary with Lydia. "We'd need a magnifying glass for some paragraphs. Here, for example, is it an O looking like an A or an A looking like an O?"

She didn't answer him, her gaze fixed on a sheet of paper she was holding in her hands. Suddenly, her body stiffened.

"Lydia?"

She slid the photocopy toward him. Stiles grimaced as he read it.

"You know I suck at Latin, right?"

"This description," she breathed, tensing in her chair. "It matches what I saw."

"What did you see?"

"I didn't just have visions in my night terrors," she answered. "I also saw something else. A creature."

Lydia paused, her eyes lost in the void.

"It had a humanoid appearance. Pointed ears and a bald head. Its body was thin and stopped at its torso, and there was mist instead of its legs. It looked like its was floating above the ground. But, what made the biggest impression on me was...

She left her sentence hanging.

"What was it?" asked Stiles.

Lydia met his questioning gaze.

"It didn't have a mouth."

━ ✧° ☾⋆⁺ ━