They'd celebrated like any crowd of seventeen year old boys would after winning their first lacrosse game of the season. Loudly.

Scott had chest bumped Stiles into a wall, having forgotten his werewolf strength amidst all the excitement. Stiles hadn't minded though and reacted only with another celebratory fist bump, still practically vibrating from the adrenaline of the match. And despite all the recent tragedies, dead pools, money issues and God knows what else, things somehow managed to feel great. Really really great.

They all wanted to cling to the feeling as long as possible for it was one that didn't come around often. They hadn't allowed themselves to feel it; to even think about feeling it. But now, there was room in their hearts and heads for something wonderful. Something that required cheering and chanting and jubilating in every way possible.

Stiles had been surprised to find Lydia in his arms on the field, holding him tight, congratulating him for scoring the final point. He'd felt her hair on his cheek and the warmth of her body against his own, comforting him even when he didn't need it.

As soon as she'd let go, Malia had replaced her, planting a rushed kiss on his mouth and then wrapping her arms around him just as the banshee had done beforehand. Stiles knew this was only her way of learning; learning what was to be done when their school's lacrosse team were victorious. But it still felt nice to hold her anyway.

Now he was pulling up outside his house in his jeep. He'd text his dad the good news the second he'd managed to escape the hoards of celebrating teenagers. Five seconds later he'd gotten a text back saying 'you're a hero' with way too many unnecessary exclamation marks, but it still made him smile despite the disagreement he held.

He'd never be a real hero, not after what he'd done.

Unfortunately, the sheriff had been unable to make the match due to an unexpected report that needed to be written for the next morning, so Stiles was actually really looking forward to seeing him. He could picture his father's face, proud and smiling, the way he wished it could always be.

After exiting his jeep, Stiles made his way to the front door, fumbling with his key in the lock only to find it open, which was strange, considering his very safety concious father almost never left it unlocked. This was one hundred percent justifiable due to their residence in Beacon Hills, the town renowned for dangerous supernatural creatures and unexplained death.

Stiles stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. He'd half expected his father to be waiting in the hallway, ready to celebrate the second he arrived home, however he found it empty. Instead, he discovered him at the kitchen table, looking down at a laptop with intense concentration burned into his features. His arms were in his lap.

Okay, so something was definitely wrong. Great.

When Stiles entered the room, his father looked up immediately, though his expression was anything but proud and smiling. It was more terrified.

"Stiles, run."

Stiles seemed to go brain dead for a second. He wondered if he'd heard correctly.

"Wha-"

But then an intense pain shot through his entire body. His muscles seized and contracted. His arms and legs went rigid. And it didn't stop until he was tumbling to the ground where he hit his head hard on the floor, unable to move bar the spasms tearing through his system.

He recognised the sensation of being tased. It was horrific, and it was only made worse by what he could now see. From his place on the wooden floor he saw his fathers hands duck-taped together beneath the table, and his feet secured with the same silver bindings to the legs of his chair.

"Don't touch him." his father spoke, anger and fear trickling through his frantic voice as his eyes flicked between Stiles and the attacker that was outside of his frame of sight. "Don't you dare touch my son."

The sheriff desperately tried to stand, but his restraints wouldn't allow it. Stiles attempted to yell but the words were lost in his throat when his tongue failed to function. And when the stranger decided to speak, his stomach dropped through the floor.

"But I've been waiting so long, Sherrif"

It was Kate's voice.

And it was then that the accompanying body stepped into his line of sight, tall and blonde and psychotic as ever. All Stiles could do was lay and twitch uncontrollably as Kate tossed his father's phone down on the table. She then proceeded to strike the sheriff twice across the face leaving him wincing, blood on his lips. Stiles nearly choked at the sight.

"Still feel like a hero, Stiles?" said Kate, and Stiles thought he might explode with hatred.

"Now, before we leave, I have one more thing to clarify with you, Sheriff." Kate stated while Stiles tried desperately to gain back control of his body. His breaths came short and panicked when he was unsuccessful. He wondered how long Kate had been here. "If any other humans get involved," she said "and that includes police officers, I'll put a bullet straight through your sons head and we'll try again someone else's kid. You got that?"

The sheriff was looking at Stiles when he nodded grimly, worry etched into his face.

"Thanks for being so co-operative." said Kate with a smile. She turned to Stiles then, taking a couple steps before crouching down before him. Stiles could do nothing but tremble as she wove a hand into his hair and lifted his head up from the ground, disturbingly gentle. He glared at her, anger and confusion spiking within him.

"I hope you don't mind, Stiles. But we're going on a trip." she told him, tilting her head with a slight smile. That was when she slammed his head back down upon the wooden floorboards with a crack. The supernaturally aided force sent agony bursting across his skull and caused his darkening world to sway. He heard his father yelling out his name before the pain dragged him into a deep inescapable unconsciousness.

Stiles seemed to wake several times and fall under again before coming around completely. The blackness swallowed him up repeatedly in an almost comforting way, like a blanket,or a mask upon reality. Each time he awoke, it was to an all consuming black caused by the impromptu blindfold wrapped around his head. There were vibrations ratting through his body and a loud familiar rumbling that he recognised as his own jeep. Each moment of consciousness however, felt like nothing more than an unfathomable dream, though it was a dream tainted by the throbbing in his head and an uncomfortably prominent urge to throw up. The word concussion echoed somewhere in the back of his mind, buzzing like an insistent insect.

When he finally broke through to clarity, the vibrations had stopped and he found himself sitting upon a leather couch in a room he didn't recognise. It took him a while to gather his senses around the searing pain in his head, but through the darkness he made out a door and one small window, across which curtains had been pulled. He immediately made to stumble up and run, but then Kate's dark figure was in front of him, gun in hand, holding it so that the barrel was pointed directly at his head. He felt the metal pressing against the skin on his forehead then, guiding him back onto the sofa slowly.

"Don't make me shoot you already, Stiles."

Stiles sat back down, a lot less intimidated by the imminent threat of death than he should have been. Right now he just felt confused, and angry, and more than anything, worried.

"Where's my dad?" he asked, his voice serious and unwavering. Kate didn't move an inch.

"He's at home, and he's fine." she said. "I wouldn't hurt him anyway. Orphaning a child would be cruel. I'm not a monster, Stiles."

"Says the woman who burned an entire family alive." Stiles uttered bitterly.

Kate looked at him, face straight.

"It was a necessary evil."

She lowered the gun then, and Stiles thought about how easy it would be for him to run. He wasn't tied down, but there was a reason for that. He was human. There was no need for restraints when claws and supernatural strength were readily available.

"What do you want?" he asked instead. Kate looked too serious now, almost afraid.

"You'll find out." she said, her eyes dusting over him quickly. She slipped the gun into the waste band of her jeans, rolling her eyes when she caught him staring at it, a calculating look on his face. "If you try to run," she said in response to his expression, "I'll break your legs. Then you won't be running for an awful long time." Kate leaned forward slightly and Stiles found himself instinctively pushing back into the couch without realising. "We wouldn't want you missing out on any lacrosse games because you can't run, would we? Daddy would be so upset."

Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Lady, you're insane." he said, though now his voice shook slightly, more at the mention of his father than anything else. Kate just raised her eyebrows, then suddenly she was behind him and out of his sight in three long strides. For some reason he daren't turn to see what she was doing, and the not knowing unnerved him an extensive amount. He found himself staring at the door, praying that any second, Scott, or even Derek would crash through, fangs out and ready to rescue their pathetic, defenceless, totally human friend. And then maybe he would get an explanation to why the hell he'd been kidnapped by Kate fricking Argent in the first place.

When Kate arrived back in front of him, there was a device in her hand. And with a pang of apprehension, Stiles recognised it to be his own phone. It began to ring, once, twice, three times before a tired and too familiar voice sounded through.

"Stiles, what's up?" came Scott's voice on loudspeaker, noticeably weighed down with sleep.

"Hey Scott. How are things?" Kate replied, and Stiles had to restrain himself from knocking the phone straight from her hand. Tension twisted his stomach into a knot of dread.

When Scott spoke again, his voice was suddenly wholly alert and awake, though laced with ice and fear.

"Kate. I swear to God if-"

"Stiles is fine." Kate interrupted. "As of now, anyway."

"Where is he?"

"Right here. You can talk to him if you like. Go ahead, Stiles."

Kate held the phone out to him but Stiles didn't feel much like co-operating with the murderous, psychotic bitch who'd tased him, knocked him out and kidnapped him, so instead he simply glared at her and kept his lips shut tight.

Kate tilted her head, then dropped the phone onto the sofa next to Stiles. The next thing he felt was intense, searing pain as long,thick claws were burying themselves in his thigh. He couldn't help crying out as his reflexes instantly sent him clawing desperately at Kates hand, the one that was now pressed firmly into his leg. But then her other was upon his shoulder, thrusting him back into the leather cushion behind him, restricting and minimising his movements.

"Stiles!" came Scott's panicked voice in reaction to his outburst of pain. Kate leant over him, her claws still deep in his flesh, her face inches from his own.

"I said, go ahead, Stiles."

Stiles gasped for breath, sweat breaking out across his forehead and neck. He did everything he could not to be sick.

"Scott," he blurted out shakily. "Scott, I'm okay. I'm here. It's okay."

As the words left his lips, Kate release her grip. Stiles seemed to breath again the second she let go. He immediately went to clutch the pained area where blood was already beginning to seep through and stain the fabric of his lacrosse shorts. The room span.

"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Stiles just shook his head frantically.

"Stiles? Stiles?!" came Scott's voice again, panicked and desperate.

"I said I'm fine, Scott." Stiles repeated, though the breathy sound of his voice told otherwise.

"I'm gonna get you out of this, okay?" The determination in Scott's voice was false and fearful. Stiles could visualise him perfectly, pacing his room, running his hands through his hair, trying to think of anything he could do; coming up with nothing. "I'll call Derek, Deaton, Lydia." Scott continued. "Kira, Malia, Argent. We'll come get you. I promise."

Kate seemed to hesitate at the sound of her brother's name. But if it phased her, she didn't let it show.

"If you do what I say, I'll straight up give him back to you, Scott." she said, matter-of-factly. "Even in one piece if you like."

For a couple of seconds, there was silence on the other end. But then the werewolf's voice echoed through again.

"What do you want, Kate?"

Kate snatched the phone back up again and brought it to her lips.

"I want to know why someone is out there trying to kill me for money." she said, fury and what Stiles could have sworn was fear showing through in her voice. Realisation hit Stiles hard with the statement.

"You're next." he said, more to himself than Kate. The older woman looked at him, and even in the dark, Stiles could see her eyes flash with nervousness.

"What do you mean?" she said, her voice quieting.

"There's a deadpool." he said dimly, body and leg still throbbing. "All the supernatural creatures in Beacon Hills are on it."

"Including me," Scott chimed in through the phone.

"There's a list." continued Stiles, hand still pressed over his bleeding leg. "People on that list are dying. We don't know why. We don't know who made it. But you're next, aren't you?"

"No, Stiles. You're next." Kate pulled the gun out again then, placing it back against Stiles' forehead. Stiles' tensed, his heart rate giving away the fear that he refused to let show on his face. There was a click.

"You hear that, Scott?" said Kate. "That's me releasing the safety on the pistol I have pointed at your best friends head. And unless you and your little buddies come through, I won't hesitate to pull the trigger. I want this guy dead, Scott. I want him dead."

"I don't understand." came Scott's voice, urgent and frantic. "What do you expect me to do? He's trying to kill me too!"

"I expect you to work it out, Scott." said Kate. "You kids have a funny habit of being able to do that."

"You're overestimating us." said Scott. "We can't do this, Kate. We can't do what you want us to do."

Kate stared at the phone in her hand as if she were looking at Scott directly.

"Then perhaps you need some motivation."

Stiles wasn't expecting the brutal blow she planted across the side of his face with the butt of the gun. A strangled sound left his lips and he fell sideways, nearly slipping from the couch, overwhelmed with disorientation. But then Kate grabbed the front of his lacrosse jersey, lifting him up and repeating the action again. Another truck load of hurt exploded across his cheek where he felt skin split.

She hit him once more before throwing him onto the floor. His mind was far too scattered to even make an attempt to catch himself, so instead he landed with a thud that shook his whole frame. There was blood on his face, in his mouth, and the next thing he knew, Kate was grabbing his arm and tugging him roughly onto his back. She shoved a heeled boot into his shoulder, pressing down hard, bringing tears to his eyes. He couldn't help releasing a pained cry as she dug in harder, deeper. And he barely heard Scott's yells being cut off as Kate ended the call.

"I hope you know this isn't personal, Stiles." she said. "I just have to send a message. I hope you understand."

She pulled her heel away and Stiles gasped in relief. But then one, two, three impossibly powerful kicks were thrown into his side making him choke and hunch over winded. Stiles stretched out his arms and bent his legs in an attempt to crawl; to wrench himself away from the barrage of abuse, but then strong hands were around his ankle, dragging him so that his arms fell out beneath him. And again he was on his back, struggling for air and utterly vulnerable.

Kate looked down at him, and there was no pity on her face, no hesitation in her eyes, just an objective. Just a mission.

She held up the gun once more, and this time she fired.