Five minutes before sunrise;

"What?" Stiles had been holding his breath for a moment before asking that question.

"We must jump, Stiles," she said with the same bright hoping eyes.

"Why?" he murmured weakly.

"Nobody will find us, nobody will take you away from me again, we will be together forever," she spoke her words fast.

"Mom, who would take me away from you?" he asked.

"You know, Stiles" the more she spoke, the more she sounded desperate.

"That doesn't sound very fair," he turned his head away from her, to look down at the ground below.

Life truly was unfair, but then again it was that way for everyone, or at least most people. Standing there near the woman he knew was in no way his mother, yet he couldn't, he just couldn't break his silence about it, he couldn't tell the creature by his side that he knew it was just playing a trick on him. It... She looked like his mother, she sounded like his mother, she even smelled like her... He thought it was odd, he'd thought he'd forgotten both what she sounded and smelled like.

Was it a trick? How strong was this creature? The damage it could do was incredible, inimaginable, but somehow Stiles was immune to its games, in a way at least. When something was too good to be true, he learned that it most likely could not be true.

"Take my hand, Stiles," she brought him out of his thoughts.

He closed his eyes, to savor what he believed to be the last moments of peace with his mother's memory, then he took a slow step back, eyes still closed, he stepped further away from the edge. The creature took the hint, and decided to finally show its true face, it turned his way harboring a devilish grin.

"Well, it was fun while it lasted," it said, unhinged.

"I guess it was," Stiles replied, the same saddened look on his visage.

There were only a few instants of silence, before the creature made its move. It traveled faster than Stiles could react. In the blink of an eye, it grabbed his throat with one hand, so tight his vains threatened to pop under his flesh. He felt the floor disappear under his feet, the monster was lifting him off the ground slowly but surely, Stiles could swear it was shorter than him a few seconds before but was seemingly growing taller and taller.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

It still had the appearance of his mother, but nothing about it felt familiar anymore, he looked in its eyes, searching for any hint, a glimpse of the woman that remained so very dear to his heart, but found none.

"My God! You're still looking at me with those stupid eyes like you can't believe what's happening,"

Stiles remained silent, not that he had any say in the matter. He could barely breath let alone speak, the creature didn't care much for an answer either, it made the decision to throw Stiles to the ground, hard enough for him to wince when he landed flat on his back.

"I just can't get what it is about you that is so special. I lived for a thousand years, took so many lives and bodies, I still can't understand what happened with you,"

"And you never will," Stiles sounded bolder in his statement, he slithered his body backwards by elbowing his way on the surface beneath himself as the creature advanced towards him.

"There he is, the Stiles I knew, the Stiles I enjoyed toying with,"

****

"This can't be real!" Exclaimed Peter, incredulous.

Malia couldn't believe what her eyes perceived either. The Hale house had been demolished a while after she'd recovered her human form, and she knew it. There was no way she could accept the idea that she was standing in that same house. A piece of her wondered, what her life could have been living in that house. Why did she have to be Peter's and Corine's daughter? Her life would have been so different if she hadn't been so.

She walked around, letting her curiosity loose. She fondled a few burnt wooden chunks between her fingers, "This was the house you used to live in?" she asked.

She caught her father a bit by surprise with that question, he looked her way even more incredulous than before, "Yeah this... Looks very much like it," he simply answered.

"We should probably get out of here," she said with not much conviction, her eyes still gliding on any and every surface or object she could observe.

For once since his reunion with her, for the first time that night, he thought he could hear her thoughts perfectly clearly. He saw through her eyes, all those questions she kept hidden from him, she couldn't foul him there.

But he decided not to share his contemplations, "Yeah, we should probably do that," was all he said instead.

"Leaving so soon? I thought you'd miss home," That familiar voice hit Peter's ears like the blow of an explosion.

They both stopped dead in their tracks, and slowly turned around. As soon as they laid eyes on the speaker, Peter was sent flying backwards only to land on his posterior a few feet behind. Kate Argent had shot him through the stomach.

"You must be Malia," she turned towards Malia, "I never really got the chance to say hi," she kept on taunting.

"Don't worry, I think I'll survive without it, thanks," Malia retorted.

"Where are we?" Peter struggled to speak, still on the ground clutching his bleeding side.

"We're not wasting anytime, are we?"

Malia began to show her fangs and claws, her eyes glowed blue in Kate's face who remained unfazed, "You're gonna fight me?" she mocked, "I can do with some warmups,"

"No! Malia," Groaned Peter.

"I don't think we have much of a choice here," his daughter retorted.

"She clearly doesn't get her smarts from her father," Interjected Kate before shifting to her were jaguar form.

A berserker joined them just as Peter was able to stand back on his feet again. It seemed... They had no other choice but to fight indeed.