Petrified

Steve laid in bed enjoying his Sunday night recharging for school tomorrow. He groaned as he went downstairs to stretch his legs. He stepped onto his back porch and settled into one of the lawn chairs. "At least the weather is nice." A siren wailing across town interrupted his relaxation.

Then heard five more from different points. All heading for downtown.

He sighed as he got up from his chair. "Sounds like it might be worth checking out."

He drove to the convergence, noticing Scott and Stiles coming from the opposite side of town. "Might be worth losing sleep after all." He pulled in behind the line of cop cars and the three ambulances. He moved alongside the cars, ducking past the cops, to where Scott and his pack were talking to the sheriff.

"We got an APB on him, but you think you can find him faster?" the sheriff asked Scott.

"I can try."

"Alright," the sheriff handed him a radio, "keep it on channel two." Scott ran off past Steve. "This is a crime scene. Can I help you?" The sheriff asked noticing Steve. Stiles groaned as he rolled his eyes.

"Probably not, but I may be able to help you. What happened here?"

"Just a homicidal teenager trying to kill two cops and his lawyer," Stiles replied gruffly.

"You sure? Come with me," He gestured for the werecoyote to follow him and headed towards the transport van.

"Friend of yours?" The sheriff whispered to Stiles after Steve had past.

"Not at all."

"What's your name?" Steve asked stopping a few feet away from the van.

"Malia."

"Well, Malia, what do you smell?"

"A lot of fear."

"And how many people?" Steve took a deep breath through his nose along with Malia. He glared towards the overpass when he caught Theo's scent and saw the boy lurking around the corner.

"Five." She turned to face Steve as he settled his attention back to her; she hadn't noticed Theo up above. "Who's the fifth person?"

"Scott is that you?" one of the deputies asked after the static from the radio. Steve and Malia turned to face the rest of the pack.

"Yeah, I found Donavan. He's really freaked out and keeps some name."

"What name?" the sheriff asked.

"Theo," Stiles muttered under his breath, confident in his answer.

"Tracy, he keeps saying Tracy."

"Tracy who?"

"Stewart," the red head stated, "Tracy Stewart."

"The werewolf from earlier?" Steve turned back towards the van. "There's no rage here, only fear from all five scents. If she lost control there would have been rage. What happened here?" He glanced up to where Theo was earlier but couldn't find a trace of the boy.

"Deputy, put out an APB on Tracy Stewart," the sheriff ordered the younger man, "You kids go get some rest, you have school tomorrow. We'll let you know if we find anything." He added noticing Stiles about to protest.

Steve pulled himself out of bed, drained from searching for Theo and Tracy most of the night. After pulling some clothes on, he headed off to his first class and attempted to stay awake as the teacher began to scribble numbers on the chalkboard.

The chalk squealing jolted Steve awake. He rubbed his forehead and started to look around. One of his classmate stifled a laugh as he grimaced and gave her a half wave.

Steve felt panic radiating down the hall. "She's here. She's in History class right now. Tracy. She's here," Liam was whispering. Steve moved to get up before remembering he was in class. The girl snorted behind him as he fell back into his desk causing the chair to grind on the floor.

"Everything, alright?" His teacher asked turning away from the board.

"Uh, yeah, my leg fell asleep, sorry." The teacher returned to the board continuing the lecture.

The fire alarm went off and Steve flew out the door leaving his books behind. He noticed Liam by the pulled alarm and began to move against the flood of students towards him.

Steve followed Liam; Scott joined the pair shortly after. The three entered the room and saw Tracy grab another student's arm after the rest of the students had left.

"Tracy, hey," Scott said calmly approaching. "Tracy. Tracy," he repeated slowly.

Tracy slowly stood, tightening her grasp on the other student until blood began to drip from her arm.

"She's hurting me," the girl cried.

"Tracy, let go," Scott took a couple steps forward. Tracy stared at Scott. Steve could smell the same fear radiating off her from last night and moved in beside Scott, ready to fight.

"They're coming. They're coming for all of us," Tracy whispered before falling forward. Steve caught her before gently placing her on the ground. A silvery substance began to pour out of her mouth as she stared blankly ahead.

Steve looked up at Scott. "What the Hell is going on."

Scott quickly scooped up Tracy as Liam tried to usher the other girl out of the classroom. Scott rushed out of the room followed by Steve. The two joined Stiles and Malia as they headed out the door.

"She one of yours?" Stiles accused as they ran to the parking lot.

"Nope, not really looking to add dying girls to my pack," Steve hopped in his car turning over the engine as they loaded Tracy in the backseat of the Jeep. He followed them to the animal clinic, overhearing Malia on the phone.

"No, he said she isn't a part of his pack. Could she be a part of Satomi's?"

"We're checking that now. We'll let you know what we find out," The red-headed girl replied from the other line before hanging up.

Steve pulled up beside the jeep when they reached the animal clinic. "She's not with Satomi," he stated as they exited their vehicles.

"How do you know?" Malia asked.

"Satomi isn't usually fond of her betas randomly killing people."

"He's right," a dark-skinned man said holding the door open as the group rushed Tracy inside placing her on an examination table in a back room. "I don't believe we've met," the man stated once he caught up with the rest of the group.

"I'm Steve," he answered smiling and extending his hand.

"Doctor Deaton," the man turned around pulling out a pen light and started to examine Tracy. "Pupils dilate under normal conditions. Heartrate is 250. Evidence of an allogeneic skin graph on her right shoulder. But this silvery substance at her lips is something, almost looks like Mercury."

"Can't you just give her a shot of something?" Malia asked after Tracy surged up from the table.

"She doesn't look to be in any pain."

"I meant a shot to kill her." Steve turned surprised by her response.

"I generally subscribe to a code of ethics that frowns on such measures."

"Malia, you know we're not going to do that," Scott gently scolded.

"How do you know she's not going to kill us?" she asked in defense.

"She makes a decent point," Stiles agreed, "either way, eventually, Imma have to let my dad know she's here."

"Agreed, and while I may argue against euthanasia, I'm not opposed to some extra security. Steve, could you grab the white jar from the front for me?"

"Sure," Steve turned to retrieve the jar. As soon as he crossed the threshold, he heard dust flying towards him. "Really?" he turned back seeing the line of mountain ash. "And here I thought someone was finally being hospitable." Deaton merely shrugged before returning to Tracy.

Deaton turned towards Stiles, noticing his anxiety, "Don't worry, Stiles. Tracy won't be able to cross a line of mountain ash; she's not going anywhere."

"Yeah, that's kinda what I'm afraid of," Stiles' eye remained clued to the line.

"Fear not, I can't cross it either," Steve sneered as he absent-mindedly bounced a tennis ball on the wall next to the door.

"Well, you and I will be able to get out of here no problem. You two," he looked between Scott and Malia, "not so much."

Malia reached out to touch the barrier. "Weird," she commented pulling her hand back in shock.

"Scott would you mind holding her down? I'm going to be trying some more invasive tests," the vet drug a scalpel across Tracy's arm as Scott and Stiles held down the girl. Steve caught the ball and turned his attention to the procedure.

"I think you're going to need a bigger blade," Stiles chocked out when Deaton raised the destroyed scalpel. Steve chuckled but the vet didn't seem to enjoy Stiles's interjection.

Steve returned to bouncing the ball on the wall, earning an eye roll from Stiles.

After running a few more failed tests, Deaton turned Tracy's head. "Well this is interesting."

Steve turned to look and the tennis ball bounced back onto him before falling into the back room. Well that sucks. He watched the ball roll under a table.

Scott's phone buzzed and Stiles rushed over. "What's up?"

"It's my mom. It's about the prison transport driver. She says he's awake and talking."

"Malia, help me turn her over, please," Deaton asked confusion oozing from him.

"What's going on?" Steve craned his neck to see what was happening.

"'The driver didn't have a stroke or heart attack. He says it was more like his body just locked up'" Scott read.

"Like he was paralyzed," Stiles muttered. "I think I know what she is."

"Care to enlighten the rest of us? " Deaton called out. "Because this doesn't look to good." He pulled back Tracy's sweater and Steve saw her spine squirm.

"Guys?" Steve called out, but he was ignored as Deaton began to prod at the wiggling vertebrae. "Guys, get back!" Steve shouted just before Tracy's back ripped open spraying blood on Scott and Deaton. "Shit." Steve began to push against the mountain ash barrier, his eyes glowing red.

A tail whipped out of the open wound slashing Stiles, Deaton, and Malia, dropping them to the ground as they groaned from their injuries. Steve stopped pushing and watched as Tracy slashed the side of Scott's face before turning toward Steve.

His eyes turned red as he shifted preparing to fight Tracy off. He looked down at the barrier seeing that it was still intact before Tracy closed the gap, digging her claws into his gut. "What the hell?" he groaned as he hit the ground and Tracy ran out the front door.

"It wasn't a werewolf," Stiles shouted from around the corner.

"Kanima," Scott stated from further inside.

"Hey, Deaton, how the hell did she get through the mountain ash?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah, I'm interested in that tidbit of information," Steve groaned as he felt his blood pooling underneath him.

"I don't know. It's a barrier no supernatural creature should be able to cross."

"Scott did it," Stiles retorted.

"Once, but it almost killed me."

"Yeah, and it didn't even break her stride," Steve coughed.

"We should have killed her!" Malia shouted.

"Listen, everyone, we need to concentrate. Scott, Steve, Malia, you will probably be able to move long before Stiles and I can, but you need to focus."

"Focus on what," the werecoyote was beginning to panic.

"Healing," Scott answered calmly.

"That's right," Deaton affirmed.

"I don't know how to tell my body to heal!" Malia's panic was rising.

"Malia, calm down its okay," Stiles tried to reassure her.

"I can't calm down, I can't move!" she growled at him.

"It won't last long," Scott said quietly, continuing to calm her, "It'll be okay." Her heart continued to pound in her chest

"Malia, pick a body part and start telling it to move. Get your fingers to wiggle and go from there," Steve shouted coaching her through the process.

"Imagine them moving. See it in your mind and your body will follow," Deaton added, glancing as best he could at Steve. The group lay on the ground focusing their healing powers in silence for a while. Steve felt his wound slowly begin to close.

The sun started to set outside the animal clinic; Steve was beginning to grow frustrated from lying face first in a puddle of his own blood.

"Okay, I'm pretty sure I just felt my right leg move," Stiles grunted. "Yeah, definitely something. Like a twinge, spasm, something."

"I'm going to have to disagree, I think I hold an informed opinion," Deaton commented just below Stiles. Steve chuckled at the distraction, feeling his body quiver from the laugh. Almost there.

"Malia," Scott gasped.

"Everything okay?" Steve asked unable to look into the room.

"I don't think she cut me that deep," Malia responded.

"Keep going. Keep moving," Deaton encouraged. Steve heard movement and Malia grunting on the other side of the room.

"What's happening? I can't see," Stiles voice filled with concern from the painful noises being made behind him. "What's happening? Malia? Malia wait for us!"

"There's no time"

"Look she's not a werewolf," he warned her

"But she has a scent. I can find her."

"Malia," Scott pleaded," save her." Malia hissed as she continued to move across the room.

She paused when she noticed the blood under Steve. "Go," he said trying to jerk his head towards the door. The werecoyote stepped over him and started a hobbled sprint out the door.