Thirty-Five

MOUNTAIN ASH.

A substance resembling black sand with a design to keep supernatural creatures at bay. No one should have been able to cross the barrier, except for humans and Sierra.

So, when Tracy leaped up from the operating table and ran through the mountain ash without a problem, Sierra grew concerned.

Everything happened in a blur. It was hard for them all to remember how they got to a point where everyone laid paralyzed.

After they first arrived at the animal clinic, Tracy remained unconscious and took heavy breaths. Deaton gave her a look over, checking her heart rate and seeing if her pupils dilated.

Observing her more closely allowed Deaton to notice evidence of a allogeneic skin graft on her right shoulder while the rest of her body remained dripping in sweat.

Deaton shined his small flashlight towards her mouth. "This silvery substance on her lips is not something I've seen," he told the worried teenagers. "It almost looks like mercury."

Stiles made a noise of discomfort when Tracy slightly spazzed, glancing at Scott and Sierra with uncertainty. They stood on either side of the veterinarian, while Malia stayed by Stiles and spoke up. "Can't you give her a shot or something?"

"She doesn't look to be in any pain," Deaton informed, Tracy now laying still.

"I meant a shot to kill her."

Instantly, Scott and Sierra lifted their eyes from the table. Stiles pursed his lips together, letting out a small breath from Malia's words.

Deaton replied sharply, "I generally prescribe to a code of ethics that frowns on such measures."

"Malia," Sierra stated her name in warning. "We've talked about this."

"You know we're not going to do that," Scott agreed.

"Okay, fine," Malia huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "How do you know she's not going to kill us?"

Stiles chimed in carefully, "She makes a decent point." Sierra raised her eyebrows at him and he quickly lifted his arms in defense. "I'm just saying, because either way eventually I'm going to have to let my dad know she's here."

"Agreed," Deaton nodded and glanced at Scott and Sierra. "And while I might argue against euthanasia, I'm not opposed to a little...extra security." He picked up a small glass jar filled with mountain ash and untwisted the lid. A black puff of smoke filled the air as he then dumped it towards the doorway. Immediately, a straight black line appeared.

Stiles stared at the substance, feeling his insides twist. Deaton noticed and assured him Tracy wouldn't be able to cross the mountain ash. "Yeah, that's kind of what I'm afraid of," Stiles admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well, you and I will be able to get out of here no problem," Deaton shared, slightly shrugging his shoulders. "And because of what Kate did to Sierra with the terrigen crystal, she'd be free to escape as well."

"He's right," Sierra confirmed with a nod. "Mistletoe is the only thing that can slow me down now."

"You two, however," Deaton flicked his gaze between Scott and Malia, "would have more an issue getting out."

Malia scrunched up her nose and looked down at the barrier covering the doorway. Curiously, she stuck her hand towards it. Feeling the electric buzz and seeing the bright, blue light, she quickly jerked back.

"Weird," she muttered, her eyes wide.

"Scott, would you mind holding her down?" Deaton reeled everyone's focus back to Tracy. He held up a small scalpel. "I'm going to be trying a few more invasive tests."

Scott nudged Sierra and motioned for Stiles to help as well. The boys kept Tracy's arms against the examination table while Sierra pressed down on her legs. All of them watched Deaton pierce Tracy's skin and drag the tool along her forearm.

However, her body healed so quickly not a single drop of blood surfaced.

When the scalpel broke apart, all of them shared bewildered expressions.

Stiles commented, "I think you're gonna need a bigger blade."

Deaton just stared at him, not amused, while Scott and Sierra bit back smiles at his Jaws reference.

The testing continued, but Deaton could not figure out what was wrong with Tracy as time passed. She remained unconscious, still panting, but her body still rapidly healed.

The teenagers grew exhausted from the lack of results, all of them moving to spread more apart. Malia relaxed against a wall, her arms folded over her torso while Stiles and Sierra leaned on one another. Scott stared at his phone, his brows furrowing together from the messages his mom sent him.

"Now, this is interesting," Deaton finally spoke after a long while, Malia pushing herself up to join his side.

Stiles heard Scott's phone buzz and turned towards him with questioning eyes. "What's up?"

"It's my mom," Scott informed him, his voice laced with confusion. "It's about the driver of the prison transport. She said he's awake and talking."

"Sierra," Deaton called her name next. "Help Malia and I turn Tracy over, please."

Stiles watched the three carefully adjust Tracy so she was comfortably laying on her back just as Scott received another text.

"Driver didn't stroke or heart attack," he read off the screen, nudging Stiles with his hand. "Says it was more like his body just locked up...."

"Like he was paralyzed," Stiles concluded, the gears in his brain spinning. He only knew of one supernatural creature that could paralyze their victims with one touch. He exchanged a concerned glance with Scott. "I think I know what she is."

"Care to enlighten the rest of us?" Deaton caught his attention, both boys turning to face him and the girls. "Because this...it doesn't look too good."

Sierra pressed her lips together, trying not to scrunch her face up in disgust as she looked at Tracy's back. Instead of seeing a normal spinal cord, something beneath Tracy's skin continued to move.

Scott and Stiles widened their eyes at the sight. When Deaton gently pressed down, it stretched forward and swayed from side to side.

Then, without any warning, her back abruptly split open. Scott and Deaton stumbled back, spitting up the black blood that suddenly sprayed across their faces. Sierra covered her mouth with her hand to stop herself from throwing up, gripping onto Stiles's arm. Everyone was unable to tear their eyes away from the gruesome image of scales emerging from nowhere.

Stiles was the first to fall, Tracy's new tail striking him in the shoulder before he cried out.

Tracy herself sprang up onto her, now clawed, toes with her sharp teeth barring in aggravation. Within seconds she knocked everyone to the ground.

Deaton got cut in the forearm and collapsed facing the doorway. Tracy pushed Malia back against a metal shelf with her tail, slicing her wrist. Then with one swipe near his neck, Scott crumbled into a heap.

"Tracy," Sierra attempted to calm the girl down, but it didn't work. Scales littered the right side of her face, her normal brown eyes narrowing into slits as she let out a hiss.

Sierra flung her hand out to defend herself, but moved a second too slow. Tracy's tail nicked her palm, the venom making her instantly trip backward onto the floor.

Without hesitation, Tracy hurdled over Deaton's body and landed swiftly before sprinting out of the room--the mountain ash completely blowing apart.

Stiles, sprawled out on his stomach, raised his voice. "It wasn't a werewolf!"

"Way to state the obvious, babe," Sierra sarcastically commented, facing him as the numbness quickly spread throughout her body.

Scott panted from where he laid, "Kanima."

Sierra couldn't see Deaton but called out to him, "I thought she couldn't get through the mountain ash?"

"She shouldn't have been able to leave," the man replied shakily. "It's a barrier no supernatural creature other than you should be able to cross."

"Scott did it too," Stiles pointed out.

"Once," Scott corrected his best friend, "The only reason I survived is because Sierra was with me when I became an Alpha. It almost killed me."

"We should've killed her!" Malia growled, her lips curled into a snarl. She was the only one sitting up, her back slumped against the shelf Tracy threw her into. Sierra could feel the rage building in Malia's core, the fury surrounding her from being placed in a vulnerable position. And if Malia hated anything more than driving, it was feeling weak.

"Meanwhile, she's probably on her way to kill someone else," Stiles muttered.

The annoyance and fear filling the room made Sierra snap. "Would you two stop it? None of us knew Tracy was a kanima or that she could get through the barrier. Instead of complaining about what we should've done, we need to focus on getting out of here."

"She has a point," Deaton agreed, trying to speak with his cheek pressing into the ground. "Everyone needs to concentrate. Scott? You, Malia and Sierra will probably be able to move long before Stiles and I can. But you need to focus."

"Focus on what?" Malia demanded.

Scott answered, since he was facing her, "Healing."

"I don't know how to tell my body to heal!" Malia barked back, distress radiating off of her.

Stiles spoke up, trying to assure her, "Mal, you need to calm down. It's gonna be okay--"

"I can't calm down," Malia cried, tears gathering in her eyes. "I can't move!"

"Malia, look at me," Sierra commanded, lifting her gaze away from Stiles to see her friend panicking. "Malia!"

The werecoyote obeyed, snapping her focus to the girl.

"Listen to me," Sierra said softly. "It won't last long, alright? We're gonna be okay."

"Doc?" Scott caught Deaton's attention. "How do we focus?"

"Think of a body part," the vet responded. "Your hands, your feet, even just the tips of your fingers. Imagine them moving. See it in your mind and your body will follow."

Sierra closed her eyes, listening to Deaton's words and focused on her feet. The room fell silent as everyone strained their bodies, pushing themselves and clenching their jaws so they'd heal.

Only five minutes had passed when Stiles panted with sweat dripping down his forehead. "Okay. I'm pretty sure I just felt my right leg move." He hesitated, and then exclaimed,  "Yep, definitely felt it! Like a twinge, spasm...something!"

"I'm going to have to disagree," Deaton stated, sighing from where he could see Stiles's feet. "And I think I hold an informed opinion."

"Malia," Scott widened his eyes as he stared at the werecoyote, her fingers starting to twitch.

"I don't think she cut me that deep," Malia exhaled, now able to move her entire left hand.

Sierra let out her own gasp, Deaton shouting once he saw her foot shift. "Malia! Keep going, Sierra is right behind you."

"I am?" Sierra questioned, not believing him.

"Keep moving," Deaton instructed the girls sternly, Stiles noticing Sierra's arm spaz.

"Come on, string bean," he encouraged. "You can do it."

Malia groaned from the feeling that entered her legs, as if a thousand needles had been poked into her skin. Curses fell from her lips as she forced her entire body to move, the pain ripping through her.

Sierra now could lift her entire arm, but wasn't anywhere close to Malia's progress as the werecoyote stumbled onto her feet.

Malia gripped the examination table for support, breathing heavily but standing.

"Mal," Scott said her name worriedly. "Wait. Wait for Sierra--she's almost healed."

"No," Sierra disagreed, though she could almost shift her body. "There's no time. She needs to go find Tracy. Now."

"She's not a werewolf," Stiles stated, as if the others didn't know.

Malia muttered, still slightly out of breath, "But she has a scent. I can find her."

"Malia," Sierra's voice made the werecoyote glance over. "Save her."

Malia nodded, pushing herself off the table completely. She stepped over Sierra's legs, stumbling only for a second before she sprinted out off the room.

"Why would you do that?" Stiles asked after a moment, questioning Sierra's motives.

"Because if she waited on me, it might be too late," Sierra replied sharply. "Malia's our only shot."

The words should've brought comfort to the boys laying motionless in the room, but they only felt unsure. All day Malia talked about killing Tracy--claiming the girl was dangerous. Could they trust her enough to do the right thing?

Even though she had been doubtful, Sierra knew Malia would do everything in her power to keep Tracy alive.

Sierra grunted then, regaining feeling in both of her arms. Using the little strength she had, she was able to lift her stomach off the floor.

Stiles watched her legs move towards her body and grinned. "That's it! Keep going, Sierra, you're almost there!"

Sierra grit her teeth together, thinking only of getting herself to stand. However, the moment Sierra finally raised to her feet, she cried out.

An agonizing pain struck her suddenly, and her legs fell out from under her. Stiles shouted as her back slammed against the tile, Scott freaking out from where he still couldn't turn around. "Sierra, what's wrong? What's going on?!"

But the empath couldn't speak.

Sobs racked her body as she squeezed her eyes shut, tears rolling down her flushed face. Images of the police station, Noah and Lydia's mother, even Tracy, flashed through her brain--but Sierra couldn't remember anything. None of it looked familiar.

Stiles swore his heart broke in two from seeing Sierra cry as her body trembled. Her stomach twisted, almost as if her flesh had been torn apart while her senses became overwhelming. She looked lost, her head jolting from side to side.

"Sierra, babe, you gotta talk to me," Stiles tried to keep his voice steady, but his fear broke though. "What's wrong? Come on, talk to me."

"N-Not, not me," Sierra gasped, her hands pushing against her side. "L-Lydia. Something, something's wrong with Lydia."

Stiles understood the situation immediately, but his concern only grew from seeing blood on her hands.

Scott and Deaton however, since they couldn't see Sierra, didn't know what was going on. "Stiles!" Scott shouted at him, now able to slightly turn his head. "What's wrong with Sierra?"

"She's connected to Lydia," Stiles rushed out, his fingers twitching at his side. "And she's bleeding."

"Sierra, you have to disconnect from her," Deaton advised, keeping calm. "Think of something else. Anything else."

But she couldn't. Every worry, every fear the banshee was experiencing flooded Sierra's mind, building onto her own panic. She heard Scott and Stiles, but they sounded distant. A whimper fell from her lips, Deaton able to see blood starting to drip onto the floor.

"Sierra, open your eyes," Stiles begged, ignoring the pain shooting through his body as he pushed himself forward with his arms. "Sierra, look at me." With another huff, Stiles moved again. His fingers gingerly touched her cheek, Sierra turning her head towards him. "That's it," he soothed, seeing her try to keep her eyes open. "Look at me, Sierra. Just think of me. I'm right here, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

Behind them, Scott shakily rose to his feet. He stumbled, falling into the counter as Stiles continued comforting Sierra. By now, her breathing had started to slow and her eyes stayed focused on Stiles.

Her vision blurred but she could see the small smile on his mouth, his cinnamon irises glistening. Stiles forced himself to move closer, now able to fully sit up. One hand held her pale cheek, the other brushing her hair behind her ear.

"That's it," he repeated softly, watching her body slowly start to heal itself. He glanced back up to her fearful eyes and assured her, "That's my girl. You're okay."

Scott's ears perked from hearing the front door swing open, footsteps drawing near. He glanced around the room, worried for his best friends and Deaton, who hadn't healed as much as the teenagers. He prayed that whoever walked through the door came to help.

Yet, when they finally came around the corner, Scott burst out the first thought that came into his head. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Theo Raeken.

He stood still only for a moment, eyes flitting over the hectic scene in front of him. "I came to help."

Theo then sprang into action. He helped Scott stand upright before pulling Deaton up from the floor. Theo looked down at Stiles. "Is Sierra okay?"

"I'm fine," the girl croaked, Stiles helping her sit up. "Just a little dizzy."

Theo extended a hand to the couple, Stiles acting hesitant before he accepted the werewolf's assistance. Then they both helped Sierra to her feet. Stiles wrapped an arm around her waist so he could support her and rested his other arm in front of him due to the wound on his shoulder.

"How did you know where to find us?" Scott questioned Theo, bracing his hands on the side of the exam table.

"Because you work here," Theo answered, taking a stance near the front of the room. "I heard about Tracy. I've been looking for you guys all afternoon."

Scott sighed, revealing the truth about Tracy. "We lost her."

"And Malia," Sierra added with a heavy breath.

"I can help," Theo stated seriously, making Deaton look up at him.

"This is Theo?"

"Let me help," the boy reiterated. "It doesn't have to mean I'm part of the pack. Or like you've accepted me or anything like that. It just means I can help catch this girl."

Sierra lifted her head tiredly to glance at Scott, who seemed just as worn out as she was. Neither of them knew whether or not to let Theo stay.

Theo called their names, since he noticed their exchange, and repeated his words. "I can you help you guys."

"First we need to find out where they went," Stiles cut in before his best friends could decide.

Sierra remembered the memories she saw while connected to Lydia and sighed. "The police station."

Scott furrowed his eyebrows. "Why did Tracy go to the police station?"

"Because Lydia's mom had a date."

*^*^*^*^*

Due to the pool of red and a long, scaly tail oozing black blood, Malia knew when she walked into the police station that Tracy had been there. Taking a few steps forward, she saw the sheriff paralyzed, lying on his back with other officers frozen at their desks.

Noah widened his eyes at the girl and whispered cautiously, "Careful."

"Malia."

Lydia's soft yet drowsy voice entered Malia's ears, causing the werecoyote to quickly turn her head. Just like the others, Lydia had been paralyzed. Except no one else had the same open wound on their right hip, gushing blood. It stained Lydia's shirt and her skin looked deadly pale and was coated with sweat as she stared aimlessly ahead.

Kira, who had been applying pressure to the injury, raised her worried eyes to meet Malia's.

"Oh my gosh, Lydia," Malia exclaimed and moved closer in concern.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Lydia breathed out, her face contorting from the pain. "Listen...Tracy...she thinks...she thinks she's asleep. She thinks she's dreaming." She gulped, forcing herself to continue. "It's, it's a night terror."

Malia didn't understand what her friend was trying to say. "Wait, I don't know what that—"

"She's not...she's not dreaming. She's not asleep," Lydia interrupted, her voice cracking. "Get her to understand."

"Malia," Noah called out to her, and she turned back around. He still was unable to move but managed to inform her where Tracy took off to with Lydia's mom. "The basement. They're in the basement."

"Tracy...and my mother," Lydia agreed, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks.

After making sure her friends would be alright until the others arrived, Malia headed downstairs. She walked on her toes, careful not to make a sound with her claws out in case Tracy surprised her. Her eyes caught sight of a trail of black blood swirling with mercury—letting her know she was getting closer.

And then, she saw Lydia's mom. Lying on the floor, completely unconscious as her body was being dragged backwards. Malia lifted her head, her ears perking from hearing a hiss.

Tracy glared back at her, with scales decorating her skin and eyes narrowed into orange slits.

She cast Mrs. Martin aside when she saw Malia, who growled under her breath in warning.

Malia transformed, letting her blue eyes glow and her fangs grow. That simple motion made Tracy swing first, Malia ducking out of the way.

Tracy snarled and swung her paralytic claws, Malia blocking her swiftly and pushing her arm backwards. She then tried to launch the girl into the wall, but Tracy was able to bounce her foot off and land upright. The action caused Malia to stumble, a shelf full of files crashing behind her.

Malia's frustration with Tracy grew the longer they battled, causing her to kick Tracy in the face to keep herself from getting paralyzed again. When Tracy swiped towards her, Malia grabbed her arm and kicked her feet out from under her.

Tracy collapsed on her back, but still attempted to claw Malia. However the werecoyote easily overpowered her. Soon, Malia had no other choice but to straddle Tracy. Her knee pushed down against Tracy's neck, a growl escaping her lips from hearing her bones snap.

Malia pressed down harder, cutting off Tracy's circulation with her teeth barring in anger.

Tracy choked, her eyes wide in fear as they flickered back to their normal shade of brown. Her deadly claws released the grip she held on Malia, and she gasped desperately for air.

Save her.

Sierra's words echoed through Malia's head.

Tracy scrambled underneath her, a tear rolling down her cheek.

And then Malia let go.

She wasn't a killer. She wasn't her father.

Tracy coughed and sputtered, moving her hand to her neck so she could try and breathe again. She sat up slowly after taking deep breaths, her eyes full of confusion as she glanced around.

She couldn't remember how she got there. She couldn't remember anything.

"Tracy?"

Malia called out to her gently, and repeated what Lydia told her upstairs. "Tracy, no, no, look at me. You're not dreaming. This is real. All...All this is real."

Tracy focused in on Malia, rising to her feet slowly. However too many thoughts were circling in her head. Her bottom lip trembled and she cast her gaze back to the ground as if she was ashamed.

"You're not dreaming, Tracy," Malia assured her.

"What..." Tracy finally spoke, her voice cracking. "What's happening to me?"

Malia sighed with relief, and offered her a small smile. It wouldn't be easy, but she could explain everything to Tracy. Then she would be okay, she would be safe.

Except she wasn't.

Out of nowhere, a figure appeared. Its face covered underneath a World War I breathing mask with tubes coming out of it. It hissed and stabbed Tracy in the neck with a needle.

Malia jumped forward but another figure appeared, looking almost identical to the other. A blue energy pulsated from its fingertips and it forcefully grabbed the side of Malia's face and shoved her against the wall.

Tracy gasped, tears welling in her eyes from the excruciating pain electrifying her body. Pools of mercury dripped down her chin while the figure yanked her head back.

It then turned its head towards the one holding Malia, who groaned and couldn't breathe from her air circulation being cut off. Even though its mouth wasn't visible, it spoke.

"Her condition," it stated robotically, "is terminal."

Then, it pulled the needle from Tracy's neck and she collapsed.

Her body crumbled to the floor, and Malia cried out her name—but it was too late.

The figure released Malia, pushing against her skull roughly before letting go completely and following its friend. Within seconds, they stalked off and disappeared into the darkness, leaving Malia completely petrified.

She couldn't chase after them. She couldn't save Tracy.

And for the first time in her life, Malia felt defeated.

Her back pressed against the wall as she lowered herself to the ground, her fingers shaking at her side. She turned her head away, unable to look at Tracy's lifeless corpse in shame. Little pants escaped her as she tried to find breath again. All of her energy had been drained.

And the only thing she could do, sitting there feeling hopeless, was cry.