Killer | Derek Hale

RULES

"You can't be here!"

Maia looked up from the magazine she was browsing. She spotted Stiles staring at her in shock from the doorway.

Scott heard his loud comment and came running in from the back kitchen, "Okay, Stiles, calm down-"

"Calm down?" he shrieked, "There's a freaking mass murderer sitting on my couch! What the hell is she doing here?"

"She needs a place to stay," Scott reasoned.

Stiles' eyes went wide and he tried to protest but Scott cut him off, "Look, my mom would kill me if I brought her home and Derek or Peter will probably kill her. So this is the safest place."

"Safest place?" he repeated, "With two humans?"

Scott pushed him out of Maia's view, even though he knew she could still hear them.

"Your dad is the sheriff," Scott whispered lowly, "He can protect himself and you. Besides, you said you want to keep a close eye on her."

"I didn't mean this close!"

"Please, Stiles?" he begged.

Scott pulled his trademark puppy dog eyes on him. Stiles narrowed his eye at the trick but fell for it anyway.

"You suck," he grumbled, moving past him to find Maia in the living room again. Scott followed after him with a satisfied smile.

The two boys stood in front of the girl. One of them had their arms crossed in a serious manner, but she really didn't noticed until Stiles knocked her feet off the table.

"My house, my rules. I'm in charge," he stated, "And so help me God, if you touch a single hair on my dad-"

"Relax, Stilinski. I wouldn't dream of hurting the sheriff. Just stay out of my way and I won't have to. Okay?"

She flashed a smile before looking back down at her magazine, flipping the page. Stiles grit his teeth and slowly turned his head to see an apologetic Scott.

"I hate you."

"Love you too buddy," Scott said quickly, patting his shoulder, "I gotta run."

Stiles stuttered to stop him but the boy was already out the door. He groaned in frustration before storming upstairs.

She rolled her eyes and continued to look through the magazine. But she quickly got bored and tossed it to the side.

She got up and followed where Stiles went. She found his bedroom door open near the top of the stairs. She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms.

"Standing there is creepy," Stiles stated.

"So is having crime scene photos hanging near your bed," she retorted.

She looked around and found several crime scene photos being attached to one another through different pieces of tape and strings of yarn. In the middle of the room was a large whiteboard, covered in pieces of evidence. Some questions were written to the side of it, signaling a mystery.

"What's all this?" she asked.

"It's everything I can do to try and find the alpha. Which is what you are supposed to be helping us with."

She rolled her eyes and stepped into the room. She moved to stand by his side and inspect the board.

"I still think it was you," he said fearlessly.

She scoffed, "Why would I kill a bus full of humans for no reason?"

"Because you're crazy?"

"True. But I didn't do it. The only people I've killed were guilty."

He turned to face her in disbelief, "You killed your entire family."

"There's a reason the Arceneaux's were feared," she reminded, "Once you were deemed mature enough, they helped you kill an alpha so that you could become one yourself. My parents allowed our family to be ruthless killers."

"And you're not one?" he questioned.

"I am," she shrugged, "But I'm a lot better then they were."

He whistled lowly, "That's a hard standard to reach."

She rolled her eyes and punched his arm lightly. She faced the board again and stared at it intently.

Pictures of each victim were taped to the edges, organized according to their similar features. She noticed that a majority of the victims were in their early twenties. Each had slash marks across their faces.

"Were any of them werewolves?" she asked.

Stiles shrugged, "I don't think so. Why?"

"Because alphas like to be the strongest. And the way to prove that they're strong is by killing weaker werewolves."

"Scott wasn't at the crime scene so we wouldn't have had any way of sensing it."

She picked another paper off the board. It was the official report about what happened. She snorted at the cause.

"An animal attack? On a bus?"

"Rabid dog," he corrected, "One who conveniently ran off once everyone was dead."

She nodded her head in understanding. She pulled a file out of Stiles' hand and plopped down on his bed. He opened his mouth to complain but shut it for the sake of peace.

She fell onto her back, holding the file above her head. Stiles stayed standing and examined the board. He bit the end of the marker in thought.

"So what did Scott offer you in exchange for your help?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at her, "Does it have something to do with that ritual you mentioned?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yes, actually, I would. That's my best friend and I don't appreciate it when people take advantage of him."

"Especially evil people?"

"Yes!"

She rolled her eyes and scanned through the pages of the files. Stiles grew annoyed with her lack of response and he snatched the file back. She scoffed and pulled herself back into a sitting position as he tossed it on his desk.

He threateningly stood in front of her, arms crossed in a mock authoritative position.

"Listen here Maisie-"

"Maia," she corrected.

"Whatever," he snapped, "You're going to stay the hell out of the way until I'm positive that you can be even remotely trusted. You will not talk to my friends. Actually, you won't even look at them-"

"And if I do?" she challenged. She stood to be level with Stiles' height.

Her authority breached her aura and the boy instantly became nervous. He took a half step back to keep some distance between them.

"Who's going to stop me?" she whispered, "You? Scott?"

Her eyes glowed a dangerous red, causing his heartbeat to rise.

"I don't follow rules Stilinski...so I wouldn't bother establishing them."

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