A/N: Okay, folks. This here is my very first Coraline fanfic, so please be gentle!This fic was extremely hard to place, so I picked the "General" category, even though it has strong overtones of "Hurt/Comfort," "Drama," "Supernatural," "Horror," "Friendship," "Angst" and "Romance." As a forewarning, there WILL be mild language and violence, along with other potentially adult themes. I will try to remember to post warnings at the beginning of any chapter that contains more than a simple little smack or a "damn." I apologize in advance for any similarities between this and any other Coraline fics out there. A lot of stories with similar plotlines are to be expected.

CHAPTER ONE:
GRAMMA LOVAT

"Gramma, I'm home!" Wybie stood in the open doorway, shifting the weight of his backpack from one slouched shoulder to the other. Busy vacuuming with her back to the front door, Mrs. Lovat didn't appear to have heard him. Wybie took a step in retreat and looked down. Of all days for her to steam-clean the carpet! "Gramma?" he called out. No answer. "GRAMMA!"

Mrs. Lovat shut the vacuum off and shuffled around to face him. "There's no need to yell," she said edgily, dropping her gaze. Her eyes widened and she gasped. "Wybourne Jeremiah Lovat! You take those shoes off this second and leave them outside! Can't you see I just cleaned that floor?"

Wybie slouched over even more and slunk backwards onto the porch. "Sorry, Gram," he murmured, looking every bit like a hunchbacked assistant being scolded by his mad scientist master.

Though the treads weren't very deep, his black Converse All-stars had acquired a surprising quantity of mud in the short walk between the shed (where he'd parked his bike) and the house. It had been raining steadily all day. Remnant raindrops were still dripping from his firefighter's jacket as he left it draped across the porch swing to dry.

Wybie walked back inside to find his grandmother vacuuming up the mud he had tracked in. His damp-socked toes curled under to avoid being run over by the machine as he stood with his back to the door like a cornered animal. The deafening roar ceased a moment later. "Do you have homework?" Mrs. Lovat asked him. Wybie nodded.

"Algebra and English. Not a whole lot." He watched her wind up the cord. "Coraline's coming over in a little while to help with the math," he added. "Hope that's okay."

"Of course, dear. As long as you keep your bedroom door open."

Wybie blushed. "Gramma!"

Mrs. Lovat chuckled. She put the vacuum away in the hall closet, then went into the kitchen where Wybie was foraging in the fridge for an after-school snack. Once he found what he was hungering for, he sagged against the tiled counter, a stick of string cheese in one hand and a tube of blueberry Gogurt in the other.

"You'll spoil your supper," Mrs. Lovat warned him, though she made no attempt to stop him as he ate. Wybie alternated between the cheese and the yogurt, taking a bite of the one first and then chasing it with a swig of the other. He soon gave this up for a more efficient method, shoving both into his mouth at once and combining both distinctly different foods into one rather bizarre but interesting flavor. Mrs. Lovat narrowed her eyes.

"Those manners won't fly in this house, young man," she admonished, yanking the Gogurt tube from his mouth. "One at a time!" Some of the Gogurt squirted out and landed on the linoleum floor. Wybie didn't need to see the expectant look on his grandmother's face to tear off a paper towel square and kneel down to wipe it up. He threw the wadded mess away, then held his gloved hand out for the Gogurt. Mrs. Lovat stood her ground.

"Not until you finish your cheese. And don't wolf it down! Chew your food, like a civilized human being! Honestly Wybourne, what's the point of my buying you snacks if you're just going to eat them like that?"

"It's just yogurt, Gram. It doesn't need chewing."

"I was talking about the cheese. The way you play around with it -"

"But it's string cheese!" Wybie argued. "The whole point is to play with it!" To illustrate, he peeled a length of it off with his teeth and lolled it around in his open mouth.

Mrs. Lovat cocked a brow. "Do you want your yogurt back or not?"

Wybie sighed and swallowed. He proceeded to finish the cheese in a mannerly fashion.

When he was finished, she handed the tube back to him. Wybie held it up to the light. "It's empty!"

"Well don't even think about opening another one until after dinner. I counted them this morning, and you're down to three." At the look of disappointment on her grandson's face, Mrs. Lovat smiled. "Don't worry, we'll be having dinner in an hour. You won't starve before then, will you?"

"Yes I will!" Wybie whined, sagging his frame in despair. Mrs. Lovat gave him a playful jab in the ribs.

"Oh, stop. You get plenty to eat and you know it. And stand up straight!" she snapped, jabbing him again, this time hard enough to cause him to take her seriously. Wybie straightened himself with an audible creak of the spine that earned him a scrutinizing look. Mrs. Lovat shook her head and sighed.

"With a posture like yours it's a wonder you're not on first-name terms with every chiropractor in town. And what is this?" she demanded, taking his head in her hands and yanking it down, forcing him to hunch over again. One smooth, wrinkled hand tenderly cupped his cheek while the other raked through his hair like an eagle's talons.

"OW! Gramma, c'mon! Lemme go!" Wybie struggled fruitlessly in the headlock she held him in. She was surprisingly strong for such a delicate-looking woman. He heard her tsk-tsk as she plucked something from his scalp (along with a few hairs, he was sure).

"The things I find in your hair!" she exclaimed, showing him the piece of hard candy she'd extracted. It was roundish and pink, with faded green stripes, and looked suspiciously like one of Mrs. Spink's hand-pulled taffies. Though if it was, it had to have been stuck in his hair since Tuesday, when he'd visited her last. Two days ago.

Mrs. Lovat heaved a sigh. "How did I ever end up raising such a mess?" Despite her words, there was a deep fondness in her voice. She smiled, brushing gentle fingers through his frizzy dreads. Her other hand returned to his cheek, caressing it with the same fondness. "You're going to have to start shaving soon, do you know that? Lord knows you don't need a face to match your hair!"

Wybie blushed and chuckled, raising his hand to hers. It felt cooler than usual. Or was he just warmer?

"You're growing up so fast… but you're still such a little boy at times. I always knew you'd be the death of me." He tried to laugh at that too, but somehow he couldn't. Mrs. Lovat's smile grew smaller, sadder. "I'd blame your mother, were she still alive."

Wybie bit his lip. He wished she wouldn't mention her again, but she always did. Just when he'd thought he could put her out of his mind for a while, his grandmother had to remind him of the mother he'd lost, or of the father he'd never known. Seven long years had passed since the night he'd been pulled from the wreckage of that overturned station wagon and hauled off in that ambulance alone. Without his mother. That little boy hadn't understood why the paramedics left her behind. Seven years old wasn't old enough to be brave. And sometimes, he thought, fourteen wasn't old enough either.

With a sigh, Mrs. Lovat turned away. "Go do your homework," she murmured. She sounded tired. Wybie wasn't sure, but he thought she looked a tad pale. Either that, or perhaps it was the kitchen's poor southern exposure that showed her in an unflattering light.

"Coraline's coming over," he reminded her. "I'm waiting for her."

"Oh, alright. I'll let you know when supper's ready." The old woman shuffled toward the stove, her hand trembling slightly as she set a saucepan on a front burner. Wybie frowned

"Gramma? Are you okay?"

"Fine, dear," she replied, fluttering a wrist at him. "Just my arthritis acting up. It's this foul weather that's to blame. Go on upstairs now."

"I could cook dinner tonight, Gram, if you want."

Mrs. Lovat turned to him and smiled. "Oh, I can manage a little macaroni and beans on my own. Besides, you cooked last night."

Wybie shrugged. "I don't mind, really. And, well, if you're not feeling good…"

She patted his cheek affectionately. "Such a sweetheart. Reminds me that I didn't raise a complete mess after all."

Wybie chuckled, blushing as she brought his face down to hers and kissed his other cheek. He kissed hers in return and straightened up. "Love you, Gram."

"I love you too, Wybourne. Now go on upstairs and get started on that homework!"

It was nearly five o'clock in the afternoon when a knock sounded on the front door.

"Come in!"

Coraline wiped her shoes thoroughly on the mat before stepping inside. "Hey, Mrs. Lovat!" she said, peeking into the kitchen.

"Oh hello, Caroline dear!" the old woman answered without looking up from the stove. "Wybourne's in his room. Remind him to keep his door open, will you?"

Coraline chuckled. "Don't worry, I will!" She wondered whether or not she'd merely misheard the pronunciation of her name. She couldn't remember the last time Mrs. Lovat had gotten it wrong.

"Dinner will be ready in half an hour!" Mrs. Lovat shouted after her as she charged up the stairs.

Coraline burst into Wybie's room, startling him so badly that he fell off the edge of his bed, where he had been poised playing a video game. Coraline looked at the TV screen, then grabbed a pillow off the bed and whapped him with it.

"You never told me you had Dreamscape of Death 3!" she snapped, pointing at the game consol.

"I don't!" Wybie snapped back. "This is DOD 2. You played it with me last weekend, remember?"

Coraline's glare faded. "Well I don't remember that," she countered, pointing at the screen. Giant radioactive-green worms roamed a landscape that resembled a cross between an M.C. Escher and a Salvador Dali painting, complete with melted objects oozing up and down stairs that led in every conceivable direction.

Wybie got up from the floor. "That's 'cuz I'm on level nine. Last I heard, you only made it to level four."

Coraline stared at him in disbelief. "You went all the way up to level nine? Without me?"

Wybie grinned proudly. "That's right." He was met with a pillow in the face. "Well, you didn't want to go slug hunting with me the other day," he chuckled, "and it turned out I didn't really wanna go either, so…" he shrugged and gestured at the screen. "I came back home and ascended five levels solo."

Coraline growled, pointing finger at him. "Why-were-you-born Lovat, I oughtta hex you for that!"

Wybie threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Have mercy on your loyal minion, oh great and powerful water witch! I beg you!" Coraline shoved him down on the bed, laughing as she flayed him brutally with the pillow.

The next half hour was spent battling "Nightmare Crawlers" while complex algebra equations lay unsolved inside closed binders. Coraline's life bar was draining rapidly in the onslaught.

"You're doing it wrong!" Wybie accused, making it sound as though she were letting his warrior die on purpose. While she had been at first (to get back at him for reaching the ninth level without her) she had quickly found that she was having too much fun to die just yet. That is until one of the Nightmare Crawlers ate a toxic mushroom and gained the ability to spew corrosive acid in its wake - an acid that caused everything it touched to dissolve. That explained the melted objects.

"Aaarrrrrgh! Jonesy, you're killing me!" Wybie wailed, pulling at his hair. He jumped up suddenly and tried to grab the controls back. Coraline resisted, leaning away from him until she was lying on her side on the bed with her stocking feet on his chest, pushing him away. "No! Not that way! That's where the incubus is! If you wake him up you're dead!"

"I don't hear any studying!" Mrs. Lovat shouted from somewhere below.

Wybie rolled his eyes. "If forty is the sum of X times eight, then X must be equal to five!" he recited loudly. Coraline smirked at him as she plunged her lightning blade into the nearest worm.

"I told you not to do that!" Wybie seethed. "See? Every time you cut a chunk off it just turns into another Crawler! How many are there now? One, two, three, four, f… seven? CORALINE!"

In the ensuing struggle both kids ended up on the floor with a loud thud.

"WYBOURNE!" Mrs. Lovat's voice carried up the stairs, sounding particularly cross.

"Bet she heard that," Coraline muttered, trying to untangle her limbs from the control cord.

"Heh, yeah. I can't even get up to go to the bathroom at night without her waking up and telling me to quit stomping around." Wybie took the controls and saved the current game before turning it off. He sniffed the air. "Guess dinner's ready."

Coraline stood up, sniffing too. She wrinkled her nose. "It smells like something's burning."

Wybie shrugged. "Well, I don't hear the smoke alarm -" The words were barely out of his mouth when a high-pitched beeping sounded from downstairs. Not overly concerned (he himself had set the alarm off countless times in the past) Wybie headed downstairs to see if his grandmother needed any help. Coraline followed. At the doorway to the kitchen, Wybie froze. The sight that greeted him sent his heart plummeting into his stomach.

On the stove a fire was growing rapidly out of a pan of stir-fried vegetables, beside which an overturned pot of half-cooked macaroni noodles had been spilled. Mrs. Lovat lay crumpled on the floor, facedown.

"GRAMMA!" Wybie flung himself to the floor and turned her over. She was unconscious, and deathly pale. A bruise was just beginning to darken on her forehead. Coraline gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. It took her a moment to notice the fire but when she did, she rushed to smother it, dropping a lid on the pan.

"Call 911!" Wybie shouted. "Hurry!" He sobbed and sputtered, rocking back and forth as he clutched the old woman's limp form to his chest like a rag doll. "Hurry!"

Coraline dashed out to the living room to make the call. "Hurry!" she repeated into the phone, as Wybie continued to shout from the kitchen.

"Is she conscious?" asked the dispatcher.

"No!"

"Is she breathing?"

"Is she breathing, Wybie? Yes! She is."

"Okay. Is her skin clammy?"

"I don't… Wybie! Wybie, feel her skin. Is it clammy?"

"I don't know!" Wybie snapped. He was growing hysterical. "Just tell them to hurry, damn it!"

The dispatcher instructed Coraline to stay on the line until the paramedics arrived. She was unable to call her parents until after Mrs. Lovat had been loaded into the ambulance and taken to the hospital several minutes later. Wybie hadn't been permitted to ride with his grandmother, and so now he was pacing frantically up and down the porch while they were forced to wait for the Joneses to come pick them up.

It took every fiber of his will, and every bit of Coraline's as well, to keep him from jumping on his bike and literally chasing after the ambulance. He barely managed to contain himself for all of one minute before suddenly leaping off the porch and sprinting down the dirt road toward the Pink Palace, determined to make better time than the Joneses were currently doing.

Coraline pelted after him through the driving rain and dusk. Headlights caught them both a second before a silver Volkswagen Beetle screeched to a halt in front of them. Mrs. Jones rolled down her window.

"Coraline Samantha Jones! What do you think you're doing running out in the -"

"No time to talk, Mom!" Coraline panted, cramming herself into the backseat with Wybie and slamming the door. "Let's go!"

"Not until you put your seatbelts on!"

"No time! C'mon Dad, step on it!"

A/N: How cruel that my first chapter should turn out to be a cliffhanger, huh? XP If you can forgive me for that, please stay tuned for chapter two!