a/n: oh teen wolf. ya got me.
this is one of three chapters.
blinding / florence + the machine

no more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden.

Derek storms into the Hale house and there's a girl sitting on the blackened staircase. He demands to know who she is and she startles at his voice, but doesn't answer.

'Are you with them?' he asks.

'With who?' she responds.

'The Alphas,' he says.

'What's an Alpha?'

He wants to know if she thinks this is a joke.

'Is what a joke?'

'What are you doing here?' If she's frightened by his snarl she doesn't show it.

'I don't know,' she says, and her light voice makes his hair stand on end. 'There was a gap. I don't remember anything but pale blue, and I was floating, but suddenly there was something different, and there was noise and something like darkness behind a veil. I went to see what it was and ended up here.'

'But who are you?' he asks again.

'I'm Casey,' she says. 'I think I'm dead.'

'So you're a ghost,' Scott reaches out to touch her, but draws his hand back warily.

'I guess,' Casey shrugs, leaning forward to brush her fingers over Scott's arm, and he shivers. 'Can you feel that?'

'Kind of,' he picks up her hand and then drops it . 'You just feel like cold air. You're weightless.'

'I'm sorry, but this is just getting too weird,' Stiles interrupts. 'Are you guys fucking with me? There's actually a person standing there?'

'You really can't see her?' Derek says as Casey waves her fingers in front of Stiles' eyes.

'Nope, but I'm beginning to think that you guys might be suffering from some psyAAAAAH!' Stiles cries out as Casey pokes his nose. 'She just touched me, didn't she? Ugh, that's so creepy.'

Casey frowns and turns back to Scott. 'How come you can see me and he can't?'

'I don't know,' Scott says. 'How come you're here at all?'

They're back at the Hale house and Casey shakes her head. 'This is so unbelievable. I mean, werewolves? Really?'

'It's no less believable than ghosts,' Derek cocks his head to the side.

'Am I a ghost, though?' she wanders under a cracked archway. 'Maybe I'm a zombie or something.'

She stops and looks down into the hole beneath the broken floorboards where Peter Hale was buried, inhaling sharply. 'Zombies are the living dead,' Derek continues, not paying attention. 'To be a zombie you would need...'

'A body,' Scott finishes his sentence, moving to stand beside Casey. 'And who do we know who just happened to have conveniently returned his body from the dead?'

'So when Peter's spirit returned to his body, he must have somehow left a way for other spirits to get back to theirs as well!' Stiles hypothesises in the driver's seat of his Jeep.

'But Peter wasn't really dead, so maybe you're not really dead either,' Scott pats Casey lightly on the shoulder.

'Okay, Scott, if you're going to insist on having The Invisible Girl ride up front, you're going to have make it seem like you're not talking to an imaginary friend because it is going to freak people out. It's still freaking me out,' Stiles says. 'Like, is she going to touch me again? Is she looking at me right now? What's she doing?'

'Can you tell your friend that I'm not going to do anything and that I can HEAR HIM!' Casey shouts in Stiles' direction.

Scott winces and shoves his shoulder. 'Dude, leave her alone. We need to help her find her body.'

'Okay fine, but it would help if we actually knew where to look. What exactly happened to you?' Stiles asks the empty space in his passenger seat.

Casey bites her lip. 'That's the problem. I have no idea.'

Scott leaves them at Stiles' house, mumbling something about Allison and Alphas and texting rapidly on his phone. With no one left to buffer between them, Stiles desperately searches for a Ouija board before Casey figures out his phone can send messages to his computer.

She perches on his bed, watching him as he combs through the internet for anything to do with Casey, Sacramento, death. 'There was an unidentified girl who was hit by a car a few days ago,' he says. 'Ring any bells?'

No. I think I've been gone for a while. And I have family who would have come to the morgue to identify me. The instant message pops up on his screen, and he nods and moves to the next search result.

She looks around his room to try and repress the anxiety bubbling in her chest. She takes in the claptrap CD collection, the dog eared posters, the New York Mets pennant hanging above his bed; remnants of a childhood that hasn't been let go of and an adolescence that hasn't been fully embraced. Mets fan, huh? She types into the phone, but before she has a chance to send it, Stiles speaks up.

'Casey? I think I found you.'

Casey Park. 17 years old. Bucked off of her horse and trampled at an equestrian meet two years ago, has been comatose ever since. 'Do you want to go find you?' Stiles says to nothingness.

I don't know. Yes, maybe. Maybe tomorrow. I'll have to figure out a way to get there.

'Don't be ridiculous, Scott and I can take you,' Stiles says.

Don't you have school?

Stiles forces a laugh. 'Like that matters. We're so behind on school work we might as well not even bother showing up, the teachers have pretty much given up on us ever learning anything.'

I'll help. Apparently I haven't done homework in two years, so I've got some catching up to do.

He cries out as his backpack opens of its own accord and textbooks start flying over to his bed. 'Are you serious?' he says. 'Casey, I know you might be in shock right now but that's no reason for you to start doing calculus.'

Okay then, you can do your own calculus.

'Whoh, whoh, whoh, let's not be too hasty,' Stiles sits down on the end of his bed and suddenly goes cold. 'Argh! Sorry! I thought you were sitting on the other end.' He settles against his pillows and stares curiously at the emptiness in front of him, then back at the computer screen with the picture of a dark haired girl with high cheekbones and a wide smile.

'I wish I could see you,' he says, running his tongue along the back of his teeth. 'You're pretty.'

Really Stiles? You're hitting on a dead girl?

'It was just a compliment!' he splutters. 'And you're not dead yet, just horribly brain-damaged!'

Stiles falls asleep with his face in his chemistry notes. Casey unsticks the pages from his cheek and lays down beside him, hovering her hand over his eyelids, his nose, his mouth, his chin. She quickly draws it away as his tongue darts out to lazily lick his lips, and then he grunts and rolls onto his side.

She vaguely remembers a boy. He had frizzy brown hair and couldn't grow a moustache. She wonders if he misses her, if he ever thinks about the future they never had.

She wonders if she'll ever touch a boy again.

She counts the freckles that pepper Stiles' face, stark against his pale skin. She counts every dark eyelash that twitches as he dreams. Then she tries counting sheep before she realises that dead girls don't sleep. A few hours later his arm comes to rest across her stomach and she tenses, waiting for him to pull away. But he must not feel her, not yet, and the heat from his body presses into her like the weight of the world and she swallows the scream that tries to claw out of her throat.

Jackson is waiting outside when they leave the next morning, Lydia nervously pacing beside him. 'So she's the dead girl?' Jackson jerks his head towards Casey.

'What? Are you shitting me? Am I the only one who can't see you?' Stiles says to thin air, before turning to Lydia. 'Can you see her?'

Lydia nods, her bottom lip trembling.

'I'm sorry,' she says in barely more than a whisper. 'It was me, I brought him back, I did this to you.'

'It's fine,' Casey shrugs a shoulder. 'Now I have a chance to try and come back too.'

'Did you see anyone else while you were, y'know, there?' Jackson says eagerly. 'Did you see other dead people?'

Casey shakes her head and his mouth tightens. 'Sorry. It was just me in the abyss. I did hear voices though. Like someone yelling from far away.'

'What did they say?' Jackson takes a threatening step forward, and Stiles puts his arm out.

'Hey!' he stands between Jackson and where he assumes Casey is. 'What the hell are you doing?'

'She's dead, right?' Jackson says. 'So she can probably speak to other dead people. Like my parents.'

Casey frowns. 'Sorry, I don't think I can help you. I wouldn't even know where to start.'

'I've spoken to a dead person before,' Lydia pipes up. 'Maybe you've just got to… let them in.'

'I think you're both overlooking one very important detail,' Stiles pushes past them to get to his Jeep. 'Casey's not actually dead.'

'But what if she can, though?' Derek sits forward in his seat. 'My entire family died right where she came into this world, what if they tried to…'

'Look, I already said I can't, okay?' Casey says, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

'But maybe they said something as you were passing through. Do you remember…'

'Oh my god, Derek, shut up,' Stiles says. 'She already said no, and the only reason you're here is because Scott can't miss any more school and I need a translator. Back off. Don't think I won't leave you on the side of the road and get her one of those talking note pads they use for stroke victims.'

Derek scowls and slouches back. 'I can't believe you don't want to find out if she can talk to your mother.'

Stiles slams on the brakes and Derek jerks forward, his seatbelt cutting into his throat.

'Get out. Get out right now,' he says, his voice cold.

'Stiles, I'm sorry, I just thought…' Derek begins to backtrack.

'No, Derek. You don't. You don't think about my mom. You don't talk about her, ever,' his knuckles whiten as they clench to the steering wheel. 'You understand me? Not ever!'

'Okay,' Derek holds his hands up in submission, and Stiles shifts into gear and pulls back onto the road.

'His mom's dead?' Casey says quietly to Derek, and his jaw tilts in a nod. She's never felt so helpless.

The hospital smells of astringent and desperation. 'We're looking for Casey Park,' Stiles says to the nurse in intensive care.

She eyes them warily. 'Room 208. Are you two friends of Greg?'

'That's my brother,' Casey says. 'He's in the Army.'

'Yes ma'am, same platoon,' Derek says, much to Stiles' surprise. The nurse gives them a tired nod and disappears down the corridor amidst the beeps and silence in between.

Greg's eyebrows draw together as they walk into the room. 'Can I help you?'

'We know Casey,' Stiles says, his voice trailing off as he sees the thin body on the bed, suffocated under tubes and machines.

'So you got my mom's email then,' Greg pinches the bridge of his nose. 'I'm sorry, she shouldn't have done that, it's not as bad as she made it seem.'

'Honestly, we just wanted to see her,' Stiles takes a step closer to the bed, and Derek looks at the spirit behind him. Her skin is grey and she looks like she wants to vomit.

'What email did my mom send?' she says.

'Exactly how bad is it, then?' Derek asks, looking between the two girls, one standing, one lying still.

'We don't need the money,' Greg says. 'She didn't have to go begging for it. We're going to keep the house, I'll make sure of it.'

Casey closes her eyes at the conviction in her brother's voice.

'Doesn't she have insurance? Won't that cover it?' Stiles touches his fingers to Casey's real forehead.

'It did for the first year. Now it's all we can do to stay afloat,' Greg yawns suddenly, stretching his arms out in front of him. 'The hardest part is the waiting.'

The machine attached to Casey's chest suddenly powers down. Then the next one and the next one. Alarms start screaming and they're all shoved out of the room. 'What's happening to her? Casey!' Greg cries, struggling against two orderlies.

'Casey, no!' Derek also tries to push towards the door, and Stiles just stands back with his mouth hanging open, wondering what he possibly could have done wrong this time. Soon enough the doctors call it and Greg punches the wall and the tiny Korean woman who arrives two minutes later faints with grief. Derek grabs Stiles by the arm and drags him out of the hospital.

'What the hell just happened?' Stiles says, panting slightly as they climb back into his Jeep. 'Is Casey still back there?'

'No,' Derek looks grim. 'She did it. She killed herself. She pulled out all the cords and I couldn't stop her. She's really dead. I can't see her anymore, she's gone.'

Stiles lets the moment wash over him, like a crushing wave. 'But, why would she do that?'

'How am I supposed to know?' Derek slumps in his seat. 'Can we just go?'

'We can't just leave her here!' Stiles says.

'There's nobody to leave behind, okay?' Derek's voice is tense. 'Instead of coming back, she decided to go. One minute she's behind me, the next she's tearing off her life support and, I don't know, passed on or whatever. There was nobody in that room except her dead body. There's no ghost of her, nothing. Just air.'

Stiles tastes blood in his mouth as he bites down on the inside of his cheek. 'She's gone?'

'Congratulations, seventeen years on this earth and you can finally understand basic English,' Derek growls. 'Just drive, Stiles!'

Stiles swallows the lump in his throat, turns the engine over and pulls out of the parking spot when a dark-haired girl with high cheekbones steps out in front of the Jeep and thumps her hands on the hood.

Casey doesn't say anything the whole drive back to Beacon Hills. Stiles has to concentrate on watching the road to stop himself from staring in the rear view mirror. He pulls up to the Hale house and she is out the door before the keys are out of the ignition. He and Derek follow her up the stairs and into a room that only has three walls. Neither of them say anything as she screams out into the darkness through the charred cavity of Derek's old home.

'Don't you want to know why?' she says, turning on them. 'I'm dead now, like, dead dead, and you guys haven't said a damn word.'

'Casey,' her name cuts like glass in Stiles' mouth. 'It's okay.'

'No it's not! It's not o-fucking-kay, Stiles! Did you see them? Did you see my family? What it has cost them to keep me alive?' She struggles to breathe in air to keep yelling, and almost laughs at the irony that she doesn't actually breathe anyway. 'My house is foreclosed. They can't afford to eat well. And it's not just the money, it's the lines around my mom's eyes and edge in Greg's voice. I was killing them.'

'But you didn't even try to go back to your body,' Derek says.

A bitter laugh escapes her mouth. 'You saw me, how far gone I was. I wasn't about to let them waste more of their time and their money and their lives on the physical and mental therapy it would have taken to get me healthy again.'

'I can see you now,' Stiles moves to her side. 'Why?'

'Do I look like an expert on this?' Casey shrieks, and he recoils. 'I don't know why I'm here or where I'm supposed to go or what any of you want from me!'

Stiles reaches out and places a hand on her shoulder, and she collapses in to him. He rocks her back and forth as she alternates between sobbing and dry heaving. He meets Derek's eyes over the top of her head, and his apprehension is reflected in them.

All he can do now is keep his arms around her, and she feels like nothing but cold air. He holds her like her pain is heavy, even though she weighs nothing.

no more dreaming like a girl so in love with wrong world.