WOO-HOO! SEASON 2 HERE WE GOOOO!
Just wanna say thank you to everyone who supported the first story of my "Teen Wolf Moon Series". THE KILLING MOON would have never been completed if it wasn't for all of you! You guys literally made me so beyond passionate to continue this story, so I dedicate that first story to all of you, as well as this sequel!
I hope WOLF MOON lives up to everyone's expectations, so as always, if you guys wanna follow it, favorite it, and REVIEW, I'd be honored.
For anyone who never read Killing Moon and stumbled across this, still leave your thoughts, and if you're interested, check out the first story if youre interested and wanna get to know my OC from the beginning. This chapter recaps a lot, but also gives more insight into charlie's past and her... wait for it! history involving gerard! DUN DUN DUNNNN! :) teehee, be warned of cliff-hangers!
Special thanks to: High Serpent King, aliciasellers75, resinswhy, xxxanniexx, "guest", amaya, msspicyjalapeno, SortofForever, XxWhispersAndDreamsxX, TheEndGame731, klandgraf2007 - LOVE YOU GUYS
Okay, well I only own my OC! The rest is from the genius mind of Jeff Davis!
Also, I'm making another 8tracks for WOLF MOON (I'll let you know when it's posted), but this first chapter is inspired by OF VERONA's "Dark in my Imagination" - i pictured it playing at the very end of this chapter!
Okay, welllll read away my darlings and ENJOY THE FIRST CHAPTER OF WOLF MOON (lemme know your thoughts/suggestions) xoxo marahh
*PS: large sections of ITALIX are flashbacks/memories
ONE: DARK IN MY IMAGINATION
The night was cool and crisp, with a slight breeze that whipped fallen leaves around my feet as I sprinted through the shadowy woods of Beacon Hills. Listening to the chirping crickets, I looked up and caught glimpses of the starry sky and pale moon.
Concentrating on keeping my breathing steady, I jumped over a fallen log and into a tall evergreen as the long, lonely howl of a distant coyote echoed throughout the forest.
Feeling the icy wind dry the sweat off of my brow as I leapt from branch to branch, I felt my torturous migraine disappear, but only for a brief moment.
Three days.
Three days since the dance. 72 hours since my secret had been revealed and my father had died. 4,320 minutes since I promised myself not to end up like Peter, to get control over my abilities, and to start fresh.
Three days.
That's all it took for me to regret swearing to get clean, and now, having worked out for my third straight night in a row, I tried to block out the nausea and feverish sweats as I remembered the advice Scott McCall and Stile Stilinski had given me.
"Well what triggers it for you? What gets you worked up?" the young beta bombarded me with questions, whilst he and his best friend continued to stare at me as I sat on the edge of Stiles' bed.
"You mean what makes me anxious or pisses me off?" I asked, brows raised whilst I picked a dried leaf out of my hair.
"Yeah," he nodded.
Making a face, I began rattling off anything that peeved me: "Ugh, people trying to kill me… or my family… or my friends," taking in Stilinski and McCall's nods of agreement, I merely resumed my list: "Then there's people who are annoying. And, um, dumbasses, know-it-alls, hipsters, the touchy-feely type, pretty much all authority figures, overly happy people… and, oh! Those pains in the asses that follow you around retails stores trying to ram promotions down your throat. They're the worst…"
Eyes wide as both teenagers stared at me in awe, Scott spoke slowly: "So… everything…"
"Hey, I'm a Hale. What did you expect?" I inquired with a shrug, but soon winced in pain.
Nodding in complete agreement, Stiles muttered: "Good point."
"Maybe you just need to relax and, ugh find something that gets your mind off everything," McCall offered weakly.
Sluggishly healing wound smarting to the point where I was now seeing spots, I sourly barked: "My dad just died, my insides are practically falling out, Derek's now the alpha, and let's not forget the fact that the Argents know about us," I pulled back the gauze from my stomach and side before sarcastically adding: "But sure, relaxing should be a cakewalk…"
Light brown eyes practically bulging out of his head, Stilinski immediately gagged once he saw my gory wound beginning to ooze.
"Ugh!" the green teenager grimaced, clearly trying not to vomit from the disgusting and pussing claw mark. "That's gross."
Ignoring the squeamish teenager's useless remark, I simply opened the bottle of rubbing alcohol and prepared to disinfect the injury.
"You just need to find a distraction," Scott suggested thoughtfully, obviously not as sickened as our silently hyperventilating companion.
Biting down on my cheek as I dumped the alcohol all over my raw, exposed insides, I hissed in pain and retorted grumpily: "Not all of us have an Allison, Scott…"
Unable to look away at the disturbing sight of my dabbing at the discolored discharge leaking from the cut, Stilinski blurted out in thorough revulsion: "C-could you maybe not do that on my bed?"
Shooting him an irritated look, both Scott and I carried on with our conversation.
"Okay, yeah, but maybe you can find something else," McCall responded hopefully.
Sure, it was easy for him to be positive! He was the one with a girlfriend who found out what he was and still said that she loved him!
"I did find something else," I wished my body was still in shock so that I wouldn't have to feel this pain on top of my torturous withdrawal symptoms.
"Something besides pills," Scott replied, his chocolate brown eyes steadily fixated on me.
"And alcohol," Stiles weakly chimed in from his spot across the room, his sheet white face buried in his hands as he tried not to stare at my ghastly wound.
Bandaging the last, lovely gift Peter Hale would ever grace me with, I pulled Stiles' oversized batman t-shirt down and sighed in exasperation: "Guys, I don't know what you want me to tell you. I'm a delta. Lack of control kinda comes with the territory."
"O-okay," Scott stammered whilst he thought out loud. "Well, um, what does Derek do? How does he have so much self-control?"
"He taps into his anger… which in case you forgot, that technique doesn't exactly work for me," I reminded them of the grim truth.
"Yeah, like at all," Stiles added, brows raised as he tentatively walked back over.
Glaring at the lanky, pale teenager, I simply crossed my arms as Stilinski cleared his throat and flashed an awkwardly weak smirk.
"There has to be something he does though," Scott pressed.
"You mean besides standing in the shadows and brooding for hours at a time?" I quipped simply. "Nah, not really…"
Pausing, both teenagers merely looked at one another in discomfort, but then Stiles contemplatively asked: "Well what gave you control tonight? I mean, you wolfed out… like actually turned into a wolf. Which, by the way, how did you do that? And why do you turn into a white one? I'd say maybe it's a family thing, like all Hales can do it, but Derek can't… s-so it has to be something that…"
"Stiles," I cut the dorky teenager's rant off, stopping him from getting sidetracked any further.
Glancing at both Scott and my own raised brows, Stiles nodded and cleared his throat: "Right… well, what I was originally saying was that you always say you lose control and black out when you shift fully, but you didn't tonight."
Thinking how fortunate it truly was that I hadn't killed everybody back at my old home that evening, I merely shrugged and sighed casually: "Freak stroke of luck?"
"No, something had to have kept you focused!" the energetic teen paced around at a dizzying speed, trying to wrack his brains for a possible explanation.
"What were you thinking about when you shifted?" Scott asked.
Running a hand through my raven hair, I confessed truthfully: "I don't know. Ripping Kate's heart out maybe?"
"Well that's promising," Stilinski sardonically remarked.
"What else? You had to have had more on your mind than that," McCall pressed further.
"Well after that bitch died and I found out the truth about Laura, then I concentrated on killing Peter," I nonchalantly mused out loud, not seeing anything disturbing in my bleak, but honest answer.
"And again," Stiles muttered flatly, "Very promising."
Growing frustrated, I huffed and crossed my arms as I grumpily grumbled: "Well shit, I don't know, okay? Everything was moving so fast. I mean the adrenaline alone made it kinda hard to think straight."
Eyes lighting up, Scott immediately sat up from his seat at Stilinski's desk: "That's it!"
"What's it?" I inquired impatiently, rubbing my throbbing temples as I plopped back down on Stiles' bed.
"Adrenaline!" McCall cried enthusiastically.
"Ugh, correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't adrenaline make your heart rate go up?" I asked, brows raised.
"Which we definitely don't want," Stiles piped up, pointing at his best friend a bit scoldingly.
"Not necessarily," McCall walked over as he continued to explain. "Lacrosse gets my heart rate up and I still have control."
"Are you forgetting where you tried to rip my head off in the locker room?" Stiles exclaimed as he flailed his arms about wildly.
"That was one time," Scott waved off his best friend, but as a slightly peeved Stiles shot him a look, the tan teen then admitted: "Okay… maybe not the best example, but, ugh, how about Allison!"
Having previously been sniggering at Stilinski's tart expression, my grin soon faded as I groaned with irritation and grouchily reminded the young wolf that I didn't have the magical little cure-all of puppy love in my life.
"No, what I'm saying is, with her my heart rate goes up… like WAY up," Scott's mind was clearly traveling to some hot and heavy make-out session, but when I impatiently cleared my throat, he continued: "But I'm so focused on her that I don't have the time, or really the energy, to get mad."
Trying to block out the nauseating image of what those two lovebirds could possibly be doing to tire a werewolf out, I simply shook my head and asked: "So what does any of that have to do with me?"
"You need to tire yourself out," Scott replied simply, and before I could voice how absolutely stupid I thought this sounded, Stilinski spoke up.
"Wait, that actually makes sense," he backed his best friend up.
"It does?" Scott seemed just as shocked as I did.
"Yeah, I mean the number one thing therapists tell you to do when you have anxiety or ADHD is to exercise," Stiles recalled, most likely from his own experience.
"So you want me to start working out cause some shrink said it works?" I crossed my arms and cocked my brow skeptically.
"It couldn't hurt, Charlie," Scott said softly, immediately making my defensive disposition soften a bit.
Pursing my lips, my thoughts then traveled back to the fact that Derek always did work out to channel his own aggression. Maybe there was something to this whole exercise thing after all. I mean, I could certainly use the extra endorphins…
"Fine," I finally caved before quickly reminding both ecstatic teenagers the likelihood of this plan failing. "But don't get your hopes up."
So now, here I was, physically run into the ground, yet still suffering through full-blown withdrawal. My brain felt like it was repeatedly being bashed in with a large bat, I couldn't keep any food down, nor had I slept more than four hours since formal, and saying I was irritable was a vast understatement.
Easily making the three-story drop from the top of the tree to the forest floor, I decided that I had done enough training for the evening. Placing my hands on my head, I tried to stretch out the intense cramp in my side while I headed over to the cliff that overlooked Beacon County.
Inhaling the scent of wet earth and pine needles, I fixed my low braid as I peered down at the picturesque scene. Damp streets reflecting the bright traffic lights and stars, everything appeared to be merrily twinkling up at me; and as I watched the distant river churning and lapping against the rocky, moonlit shore, I couldn't help but think how beautiful my home was… well, when it wasn't being a nightmarish deathtrap…
Suddenly hearing the snapping of a few twigs just yards behind me, I spun around, squinting in the darkness.
Heart pounding in my chest, I remained still as I listened, but after a few moments of silence, I turned back around.
Relax, Charlie. You need to get a grip.
Ever since Peter had died, I couldn't shake this unnerving feeling like something was following me. Like an invisible, dense mass looming overhead, I constantly felt as if the air was being sucked right out of the atmosphere, making my hairs stand on end.
I knew if it was severe enough, withdrawal could actually make people hallucinate, as well as sleep deprivation, so that's what I was chalking it all up to.
My body was just adjusting to the lack of drugs in its system and my brain was acting all screwy. Yeah, that was it. There was nothing out here with… SNAP!
Heart stopping, I wheeled back around and tried to sound as intimidating as possible as I barked: "Who's out there?"
No response.
Shaking slightly, I tried to concentrate and remain calm. It was probably just a deer or something. I mean, I was in a damn forest for God's sakes!
Suddenly hearing rustling in the bushes just a few feet in front of me, I couldn't deny the fact that whatever was out there, it was certainly watching me. It was intelligent enough to keep its distance, as if stalking its prey, and that fact made me beyond uneasy.
Taking a deep breath, I told myself that, being a werewolf, I was at the top of the food chain, and so after convincing myself that I should just check it out and get to the bottom of this, my phone buzzed.
Fumbling around my black leggings, I fished the cellphone out and answered, eyes still fixated on the now quiet shrubbery: "Yeah?"
"Charlie, you need to get to the hospital," Stiles' earnest voice was panicked.
Furrowing my brows, my mind immediately concluded that Lydia's once stable condition had turned for the worst.
The strawberry blonde had indeed been bitten by an alpha. I saw it happen myself, but when she started going into shock, I knew it had to mean one thing: her body was rejecting the bite and she was going to die.
Then, much to my surprise, Lydia Martin started to recover. She wasn't healing as fast as a werewolf by any means, but the doctors said she was going to pull through.
Needless to say, we were all relieved, but the fact that Beacon Hills' queen bee had been bitten by Peter, didn't turn, but still had a pulse… well it certainly left us with a very unsettling question: what was she?
"What's wrong?" I demanded, hearing his uneven breathing through the phone.
"S-she's gone," he muttered, the boy clearly beside himself.
"Gone?" I repeatedly dumbly. "Stiles, what are you talking about?"
"I was at the hospital and woke up starving, so I went to go get a candy bar, but the stupid vending machine wouldn't work and I accidentally broke it and…" Stilinski blabbered on mindlessly.
"STILES!" I snapped at the hyperactive teenager to focus.
"A-and suddenly she was screaming so… so we ran to see what was wrong and… and she was gone," his voice was tense and thick.
"Weren't her parents with her?" I asked, completely confused as to how the redhead managed to disappear unnoticed by an entire packed hospital.
"Her dad was waiting outside while she showered," he replied with a monotone voice.
Finding this beyond bizarre and slightly unbelievable, I couldn't help but sound a little cynical as I asked: "What the Hell did she do? Climb out the window naked?"
"Um, a-actually, she did," I could hear the pale teen's voice cracking as he added: "Unless someone… or something took her."
Beyond hearing how distraught he was, the point Stilinski made was a valid one. Lydia could have very well been abducted, and even if she wasn't, there was no way she could survive long if she was running around naked. She'd be dead in less than 48 hours from exposure if no one found her.
"Give me ten minutes," I stated evenly, trying to mask how fearful I now was for the girl's life.
And then, hanging up the phone, I ignored the nagging feeling that I was being watched and took off to meet my friends, not noticing a pair of haunting red eyes staring right at me.
Bursting through the double-doors, my heart was pounding in my chest so hard that I thought it might burst. Eyes darting around urgently, I pushed my way through the crowded hospital corridor, mind racing while I tried to think of any possible explanation for Lydia Martin's disturbing disappearance.
We had zero clue as to what the redhead was, but we were willing to wait and find out. Unfortunately, however, I knew not everyone would be so patient. God forbid the Argents had discovered what happened to Beacon Hills' queen bee...
"Naked? As in nude?" I finally heard Sheriff Stilinski's voice over the deafening noise assaulting my sensitive ears.
"I'm pretty sure they mean the same thing," a familiar female voice sassily responded. "But yes, as far as we know, she left here clothing-optional."
Rushing through the packed nurses' station, I rounded the corner and headed down the hallway towards Lydia's old room whilst Mr. Stilinski double-checked: "All right. You checked the whole hospital, right?"
"Every last corner," I caught a glimpse of the curly haired nurse with dark brown hair and immediately recognized her.
"And nothing was suspicious?"
"Nothing," Melissa McCall recalled, her face just as anxious as the sheriff's. "She just took off."
Unless some crazy hunters abducted her…
Grabbing the walkie-talkie off of his belt, John Stilinski then stated in a serious tone of voice: "Okay, let's get an APB on a 16-year-old redhead," then, turning to face Scott's mom, he asked: "Any other descriptors?"
"She's 5'2" a-and her hair's actually strawberry blonde," Stiles interjected after popping out of nowhere, whilst I persistently shoved my way through the dense and tightly packed hallway.
Pale green eyes examining his panting child, the sheriff inquired with a strained voice: "Is that right?"
"Yeah," the pale boy with blotchy cheeks nodded, flashing a weak grin, but soon he was firmly gripped by Mr. Stilinski and yanked to the side of the hallway.
"What the Hell are you still doing here?" he demanded of his son impatiently.
"Ugh, um… providing moral support?" Stiles offered feebly, trying to laugh off his father's foul mood.
Taking in John's reprimanding gaze, I immediately made the executive decision to hang back and keep hidden. Glancing around, I then spotted Lydia's vacant and dark hospital room.
"How about you provide your ass back home?" he asked scoldingly. "Where you belong."
Nodding in vehement and fearful agreement, the energetic teen blurted out: "I-I can do that."
"Yeah?" Mr. Stilinski raised his brows as he continued to stare down at his son with an intimidating expression.
Staring up at the sheriff's stern face, Stiles merely mumbled his sheepish: "Mhm."
And before his son could say anything else, Sheriff Stilinski forced the dweeby teenager to turn around and shooed him towards the exit.
Back pressed against the side of the door and hidden in the shadows, I heard Stiles grumbling to himself in vexation, but as the unexpecting kid walked past the open doorway, I reached out and yanked him inside.
Yelping in both panic and surprise, Stiles tripped through the yellow 'caution' tape as I clamped my hand around his gaping mouth and pushed him against the wall.
"What the Hell you doing?" he hissed, clearly a bit annoyed at me whilst his heart continued to race.
"Shut up," I growled, trying to ignore my migraine whilst I looked around and made sure no law enforcement officers were watching us entering a closed crime scene.
Then, quietly closing over the door to Lydia Martin's old hospital room, I glanced back at the eccentric teen with wide, caramel eyes.
Completely confused and still a bit startled, Stiles whispered: "W-what are we…"
"Look for her things," I cut him off with my command.
"W-what?" he stuttered, brows furrowed
"Get her clothes… a hairbrush… anything," I repeated irascibly as I started searching the dark room myself, but once I noticed the geeky boy was still staring back at me dumbly, I barked: "Now!"
Flailing a bit as he quickly turned, Stiles skidded and darted around the room, opening the linen closet and checking the shelves.
Pulling the drawers out from the bedside table, I also came back empty handed, and feeling thoroughly frustrated, I tucked a few loose strands behind my ear and tried to think.
"W-what are we even looking for?" Stiles finally murmured, shutting the closet whilst I tore apart the bed.
Nothing here, either…
Inhaling deeply, I tried to remain even-tempered, but with my anxiety shooting through the roof, and now my lack of ability at picking up the redhead's scent, well I was beginning to lose my cool…
"Anything she wore. Anything that may have her scent on it," I responded with a somewhat edgy tone of voice.
"Oh, ugh… um… here!" Stiles threw her pillow at me.
Catching it just before it could smack me in the face, I shot the pale boy with short brown hair an annoyed look before taking a whiff.
Frowning, I shook my head: "Nope."
Making a face, Stilinski's pensive expression soon lit up as he bounced off into the bathroom.
"H-how about this?" he asked excitedly, tossing Lydia's dirty hospital gown at me.
Taking it, I closed my eyes and held the thin cloth to my nose, inhaling deeply and concentrating as much as my throbbing brain could.
Come on, Charlie. You can do this. It's just catching a scent. You've done this a million times!
But when I sniffed up nothing but the typical, stale hospital odor, I opened my eyes, let out an aggravated groan, and looked back up at the staring teen, whose face was beyond restless: "I-I can't smell anything."
"What do you mean you can't smell anything?" he demanded a bit tensely, his voice higher than usual.
"Stiles, I can barely make my claws come out, let alone track someone who just washed her scent off in the shower," I snapped defensively.
I wasn't exactly at the top of my game, and for him to expect me to be able to tap into the abilities I had so little control over… especially during my withdrawal… well, it was ridiculous!
Catching his apologetic look, my harsh disposition softened a bit. I wanted to help, I really did, and sensing how truly distraught the kid was, I knew I had to try again.
Sighing, I extended my hand: "Hand it back over."
Gazing at me thankfully, Stiles obediently did so and watched on as I huffed the hospital gown, but when that overwhelming and nauseating scent of sterilizing cleaner and hospital musk wafted up my nose, all I could do was gag.
Swallowing the vomit creeping up my esophagus, I shoved the article of clothing right back into Stilinski's hands and stifled the urge to dry-heave as I avoided his disappointed expression: "I'm sorry. I got nothing."
Feeling beyond guilty, I felt horrible for letting the kid down again.
"Stiles," I tried to reassure the teenager as he continued to silently freak out. "We're gonna find her, okay?"
Glancing back up at me, I could see him struggling to remain positive.
Gingerly reaching out, I gently touched his shoulder and stated as confidently as possible: "Scott's gonna be here any minute. He'll be able to track her."
Forcing a weak smile onto his worried face, Stilinski stiffly nodded as I peeked out the window to double-check that no one had seen us. Then, once I knew that the coast was clear, I turned back to face him.
"Come on. Let's wait for him at the Jeep."
Swallowing the lump in his throat, which was undoubtedly preventing him from speaking, Stiles grabbed her hospital gown and stuffed it under his zip-up sweatshirt.
Following the boy as he slipped out of the room, I closed the door behind us and headed towards the exit.
I hated seeing him this way. It made me uncomfortable.
Examining the large bulge in his sweatshirt, a small and sly smirk soon spread across my face.
Catching my slightly amused expression as we rounded the corner and continued to make our way to the parking lot, Stilinski asked in a low, edgy voice: "What?"
"Nothing," I lied, but once I saw how uneasy the kid appeared, I figured lightening the mood was the least I could do for him.
Opening the doors and stepping into the cool evening air, I then added with a devilish grin: "I just didn't know you were expecting."
Eyes immediately shooting down to the large bump over his stomach, Stiles quickly tried to hide the fact that he was smuggling evidence out of the hospital.
Then, scrambling after me, the dorky teen grumbled: "Shut up," but soon, as small, yet sincere smirk flashed across his face.
"This is the one she was just wearing?" McCall asked, holding the hospital gown out in front of him as we sat outside the hospital, but when there was no response besides a thick, tense silence, Scott turned to his best friend and promised: "I'm not gonna let anyone hurt her. Not again."
Staring back at the young beta sitting shotgun beside him, Stilinski seemed to appreciate and believe those words, for both boys exchanged somewhat tender looks.
Suddenly remembering that I was silently watching on from the back seat, Stiles quickly cleared his throat and stated with flushed cheeks: "All right, just shove the thing in your face and let's find her."
Unable to help myself, I grinned a bit over how flustered he seemed to get at my witnessing such a sweet moment in their bromance, and as Scott sniffed the thin piece of clothing, the door to the Jeep unexpectedly opened, startling us all.
"Whoa!" Stiles exclaimed as we all jumped, but once Allison Argent slid in the backseat beside me, McCall demanded with an urgent tone of voice: "W-what are you doing here? Someone's gonna see us…"
"I don't care," the lovely brunette pulled off her beanie cap and fixed her loosely curled hair. "She's my best friend, and we need to find her before they do."
Before they do?
Eyeing the girl closely, I could feel my body stiffening up as my anxiety began to spike again. I hadn't seen or spoken to Allison since formal and now that she knew what I was and saw how ready I was to kill Kate, well, saying I was apprehensive was putting it lightly.
"I can find her before the cops can," Scott stated confidently, puffing out his chest a bit whilst I tried to maintain my composure.
"How about before my father does?" Allison responded ominously, making me sweat even more.
Shit. I knew the Argents had to have found out about Lydia!
"He knows?" McCall spun around, as did his gaping best friend.
Her own heart racing, I could hear how anxious Allison truly was over the entire situation.
Voicing dropping, the pretty teenager admitted almost guiltily: "Yeah. I just saw him and three other guys leave my house in two SUVs."
"Search party," Scott glanced around at all three of us, however I understood that Chris and his buddies weren't just looking for our friend out of the goodness of their hearts.
Then, voicing my own dark thoughts, Allison stated forebodingly: "It's more like a hunting party."
And as the two boys' mind wrapped around the sinister meaning of those words, Stiles threw the Jeep into reverse and sped out of the busy parking lot.
"All right, but if she's turning, they wouldn't actually kill her would they?" Stilinski finally blurted out after about ten minutes of stiff silence.
"They won't tell me anything," she responded honestly. "All they say is, 'We'll talk after Kate's funeral… when the others get here'."
Heart practically stopping, I knew this couldn't be good, and once McCall and I exchanged quick and extremely nervous looks, the tan teen timidly inquired: "W-what others?"
"I don't know," she sounded a bit frustrated, "They won't tell me that, either."
"Okay, your family's got some serious communication issues to work on," Stiles sarcastically stated, before turning to his friend as he continued to stick his head out the window: "Scott, are we going the right way?"
Closing his eyes and sniffing the air some more, Scott frowned and tried to concentrate some more.
Beyond impatient, Stilinski demanded again: "Scott!"
"Hold on!" McCall shot back, trying to focus. "All I can smell right now is sweat."
Catching Stiles' light brown eyes immediately shooting over to my direction, I crossed my arms and sensitively shot back: "It wasn't my idea to make me work out like I'm goddamn Rocky, so if I stink, that's your fault."
Hearing Scott and Stiles snigger a bit, I immediately regretted opening my mouth, for I soon felt Allison's brown eyes fixated on my rigid form. Craning my neck out the window, I merely avoided her gaze and continued to pretend as if I could actually help McCall track Lydia.
"Wait, wait!" Scott thankfully piped up, taking Allison's undivided attention off of me. "Slow down."
Slamming on the breaks and sending all of us flying forward, all three of Stilinski's passengers slammed into various parts of the Jeep, making us all groan in pain.
"S-sorry," the hyperactive teen offered apologetically, but Scott and I were too busy hanging out of the vehicle and smelling the air.
"Do you smell that?" the beta asked me, still rubbing his forehead.
Cheek smarting from hitting the back of the seat, I furrowed my brows as I caught a light trace Lydia's sugary Victoria Secret perfume.
"Y-yeah!" I nodded eagerly. "But I… I can't figure out what direction it's…"
"Take the next right!" Scott exclaimed over me, and although it honestly bothered me that a brand new wolf seemed to have more control than I did, I couldn't help but be grateful.
Lydia needed to be found, and although I was useless and always screwed things up, at least Scott was around to save her.
Walking through the starlit woods, all four of us remained silent, hoping to hear Lydia or catch her scent without drawing the attention of anyone else who may have also been searching for her.
Scott and Stiles were a couple of feet in front of Allison and I, and as we crunched over the dead leaves and fallen twigs, I stared down at my black and neon blue Nikes, rather than venturing a look at the brunette marching right beside me.
The tension was thick and almost suffocating.
I wanted to say something. I wanted to explain that, regardless of what her family would lead her to believe, I never had the intention of harming her. Maybe she was still just processing the fact that her boyfriend and close friend were both werewolves, her family's sworn enemy…
Biting my nails absentmindedly, I tried to block out everyone's erratic heartbeats. I felt beyond ill, and as I tried to stifle my own shivers, I crossed my slender arms and covered my bare shoulders.
I knew wearing that fitted tank was a bad idea…
Hair suddenly standing on edge, I immediately recognized that sensation of being watched and my chest tightened.
Eyes darting around the shadowy forest, I scanned the immediate area yet still found nothing.
"What is it?" Allison whispered out of nowhere, no doubt seeing my body tense up.
"Ugh, nothing," I muttered, brows furrowed as I continued to check out the various treetops and bushes.
What the Hell was going on?
"You sure? Should I call Scott back here?" she inquired with a low voice.
Unable to mask my irritation at that request, I bit my lip and swallowed my pride. She was right to ask that. I wasn't exactly the most reliable or helpful person…
"N-no," I shook my head, still frowning a bit. "It was probably just a bird or something."
Uncomfortable silence falling over us once again, we all journeyed on, following Scott as he continued to track the strawberry blonde's faint scent.
We were definitely getting closer, and although my senses were clearly weaker than McCall's, I was at least confident that we were heading in the right direction; however, there was also an uneasy knot growing in my stomach with every step we took, for we seemed to be heading towards my old property.
If Lydia was at the Hale house, well… let's just say I understood nothing good could come out of that…
"Um, Charlie?" Allison's timid voice broke the silence and pulled me from my own thoughts.
Oh, God. Here we go…
"I'm… I'm sorry I didn't help look for you," she practically breathed, her voice filled with remorse.
Taken off guard by the brunette's unexpected apology, I finally looked up into her large brown eyes and saw how upset she truly looked.
"M-my dad…"
"Your dad made you go with him," I cut her off as her lip began to quiver slightly. "I know, Scott explained it all…"
Awkward silence befalling us once more, my mind traveled back to the night of formal.
Body in ribbons, I had somehow managed to drag my naked and weakened form to the old hole in the ground that I sought refuge in after the fire. Blood pouring out of me, guts falling out, and hypothermia setting in, my brain was barely working. I was in shock, but more emotional than physical. I had just found out Kate Argent was definitely the arson… the reason my family was dead and the person responsible for my turning into a bloodthirsty beast.
On top of that, I had also discovered that Peter intentionally murdered Laura to become the alpha, but before I could demand answers or even hear an apology out of my charred and broken father, Derek tore his throat open, right in front of me.
I was an orphan once again, but rather than running scared and allowing myself to remain a victim of circumstance, I decided I needed to let everything go.
I decided that hatred and anger would only turn me into Peter, and although I would always be a werewolf, I still had a choice on whether or not I would become a monster.
Then I lit everything on fire, purging myself of my past demons and promising myself that I would move on; and that's when Stiles and Scott showed up.
They had been looking for me for hours, undoubtedly worried that I was bleeding out and dying somewhere in the woods, but once they had found me, naked and sobbing in front of the flames consuming my old life and laying to rest my old self, they helped me.
Those two dorky boys, trudging along ahead of us, they were the only people who searched for me, who stood by my side and made sure that I was okay. And they were the only two individuals who pushed me to keep my word and get clean. They were my friends, but more than that, they were my pack, and from that moment on, I swore to myself that I would protect them the best I could… and that included their loved ones.
"He said he wont hurt you guys, you know," Allison spoke up once again.
Blinking a bit, I glanced at her as she stared back at me with the most serious of expressions.
"You and Scott," she clarified, as if I didn't also know that all ready.
Watching the penitence visibly eating away at her, I knew that she was trying to make me feel better… trying to tell me that regardless of what I was, she didn't think I was some mindless beast that needed to be put down.
"I don't care about that," my voice and expression were much softer.
"Y-you don't?" she seemed a bit stunned and even confused by my response.
Shaking my head 'no', I then inhaled deeply, preparing myself for an uncomfortable moment of sincere confession: "Allison, I… ugh… I'm sorry, okay?"
"Charlie, stop," it was now Allison's turn to see how filled with regret I truly was.
"No," I spoke over her fiercely. "My father was a murdering psychopath, and… and I let him get in my head," I admitted dismally, knowing just how close I was to slaughtering Kate right in front of her.
Reaching out and linking arms with me, the lovely brunette pulled me closer to her and stated gently: "We both made mistakes… and if it makes you feel better, apparently so was my aunt."
Taking in her small, sad, dimpled smirk, I couldn't help but flash my own wry and crooked grin back.
"So… I guess were even, huh?" I asked, brow cocked as we continued to follow Stilinski and McCall.
Chuckling a little, she nodded her head and beamed at me: "Yeah, I'd say so."
Feeling like an immense weight had just been lifted off of my shoulders, I had a bit more pep in my step as we continued to follow Lydia Martin's trail, but the moment we came over the hill and my eyes landed on the charred remains of my home, that pleasant feeling quickly subsided.
"S-she came here? You sure?" Stiles' surprised and shaky words voiced my own feelings of trepidation.
"Yeah, this is where the scent leads," Scott spoke a bit dismally.
"All right, but has Lydia ever been here before?" Allison inquired, clearly trying to remain more logical about the unsettling situation.
"Not with me," I responded as everyone turned to the place's old resident.
"Maybe she came here on instinct, like she was looking for Derek," Stilinski ventured a guess, but that response did nothing to ease our minds.
"You mean, looking for an Alpha," McCall corrected his best friend whilst all four of us stood side-by-side, just staring at the creepy and abandoned residence.
"Wolves need a pack, right?" Allison asked, turning to both her boyfriend and I.
"Not all of them," I replied honestly, remembering how close I was to being an Omega quite a number of times.
"But would she have been drawn to an Alpha? Is it an instinct to be part of a pack?" the brunette pressed, no doubt having learned a few things about werewolves over the course of this extremely hectic weekend.
"Yeah, we're… we're stronger in packs," Scott answered with a nod.
"Like strength in numbers," she muttered to herself as that prickling sensation began to run up the back of my spine again.
"No, like literally stronger, faster, better in every way," McCall continued to divulge the secrets of our kind.
Glancing around, I strained my eyes, feeling beyond restless.
"That the same for an Alpha?" Allison inquired whilst Stiles began poking around a few nearby trees.
"Yeah," I nodded with an even voice, still visibly distracted as I continued to peer around at some unseen force. "That'll make Derek stronger, too."
"Oh! Hey, look at this!" Stiles exclaimed a bit excitedly from where he was crouched down alongside a large maple tree. "You see this? I think it's a tripwire…"
And before any of us could even register what the Hell the eccentric teen was talking about, Stilinski yanked the chord, which caught Scott's ankle, and sent him flying up into the air.
"Stiles?" Scott called from where he was now hanging upside-down from the tree.
"Yeah, buddy," he innocently turned around, only to find McCall steadily becoming redder in the face as he swung from the branch. "O-oh!"
"Next time you see a tripwire, don't trip it," Scott sarcastically retorted as Allison and I broke out into furious giggles.
"Yeah, noted," Stiles spoke as he and Allison rushed over to try to find a way to get the young wolf down.
Hearing the snap of a few twigs, however, Scott and I both froze and I knew for certain this time, the noises I was hearing weren't just in my imagination.
"Wait, wait, wait!" I hissed, scanning the area with wide eyes. "Someone's coming."
"Wait, what? Who's coming?" Stilinski spun around, almost smacking his face against Allison's. "I-is it Lydia?"
Glancing back at Scott to double-check, the beta inhaled deeply, only to gravely shake his head.
"Hide," he whispered as the mysterious guest quickly approached, but when Stiles and Allison merely stared blankly back at us, I rushed forward and ushered them away: "Come on! Go!"
Concealed in the shadows, bodies pressed up against a large tree, Allison, Stiles, and I all peered around the thick trunk at the dark figures approaching the helpless, strung up Scott McCall.
They were three large men clearly holding weapons, and as I listened to Scott's elevated heart rate, I knew that they had to be hunters.
"Scott?" the familiar, gravelly voice of Allison's father rang out.
"Mr. Argent," McCall responded as we all watched the deadly hunter's face become illuminated by the pale moonlight.
"How are you doing?" his blue eyes examined the inverted and swinging beta, his voice pleasant enough.
Hearing Allison shift beside me, Scott then stated as casually and light-hearted as possible: "Good… you know, just hanging around."
Biting my cheek in an effort not to chuckle at his witty remark, a small grin tugged at the corner of my lips as I watched on.
"I-is this one of yours? It's, ugh, it's good," Scott continued on, as if this were a friendly conversation. "Nice design. Very constricting."
Giggling despite myself, I received a swift elbow to the ribs by both Allison and Stiles, who clearly didn't find this situation as entertaining as I did.
Frowning, I glared at them both whilst Mr. Argent demanded: "What are you doing out here, Scott?"
"Looking for my friend," he responded simply, tan face now almost purple.
"Ah, that's right," Chris nodded as he mused out loud. "Lydia's in your group now, isn't she? Part of the clique… is that the word you use? Or is there another way to put it?" his voice dropped to a threatening and harsh tone. "Like, perhaps, part of your pack?"
"Actually," McCall spoke up a bit more boldly, his chocolate brown eyes staring right back into Mr. Argent's dark blue ones. "Clique sounds about right to me."
"I hope so, because I know she's a friend of Allison's," he circled the tied up werewolf. "And two special circumstances, such as yourself and Charlie… two I can handle, but not three."
Immediately feeling a wave of anger shoot through me, I balled my fists. He was acting like he was doing us some sort of favor by letting us live. Maybe we were doing him the favor! I mean, we could easily rip him apart if we wanted to… well, at least I could…
"Scott, do you know what a hemicorporectomy is?" his expressionless face and even voice was eerie to say the least.
"I have a feeling I don't want to," McCall muttered back.
"It's a medical term for amputating somebody at the waist…cutting them in half," he explained, making me quake with anger.
I had seen something like that before; a few days before the incident, actually…
Laura's boyfriend at the time, Juan Carlos, was murdered that exact same way by one of the most deadly and brutal hunters we had ever come across: a man named Gerard.
"Takes a tremendous amount of strength to cut through tissue and bone like that," Chris continued to threaten the young beta, whilst I was busy trying my hardest not to freak out and attack Allison's father and his bumbling hunting party. "Let's hope a demonstration never becomes necessary."
And with that, Chris and his buddies turned and stalked away, leaving us alone once again.
Silently fuming, I lagged behind and watched on as Stiles and Allison rushed over to the still dangling Scott.
"You okay?" a concerned Allison Argent asked whilst Stilinski ran over to the tree and began examining the complex knots suspending his friend upside-down in the air.
"It was just another life-threatening conversation with your dad," McCall tried to sound less shaken than he truly felt, but hearing his racing pulse, I knew that he was lying.
"Wanna help me with this?" Stiles called over to the brunette, his fingers tangled up in the giant mass of thick rope.
Idly watching the tan teenager cutting himself free and falling to the ground with a smug smile, my body vibrated with the rage bubbling up within me as my mind replayed the day I had found Laura a hysterical mess on our bathroom floor.
Juan Carlos and my cousin had been dating for about two years. They were the perfect mates, so to speak. She was the rational and logical alpha, and he, a hotheaded but playful beta. He was a genuinely good guy and he truly loved my cousin. Even Derek liked him! And when he told us he was going to propose, we were thrilled, but then, once he had gone missing, we all knew something had gone wrong.
We were such a tight-knit group back then, Derek, Laura, Juan, and I, and no matter if we were fighting or not, no one would just disappear like that… especially when the word on the street was that the infamous hunter Gerard was running around Manhattan, looking for a small pack of werewolves led by a female alpha.
So when we got the call to go to the city morgue and claim his mutilated body, it felt as if the world was crumbling down around us. He had become part of the family, and yet again, a band of ruthless hunters had murdered one of our own.
Needless to say, after burying the innocent beta in the traditional werewolf style, I couldn't take watching Laura sobbing anymore. I went out, got drunk, and wandered off, unable to handle yet another death in my life, especially around the anniversary of the Hale fire.
The second night of that drunken and drugged up bender was the night of the incident… the night that I had taken my first life and spiraled into the dark hole that I was still struggling to climb my way out of…
"You coming?" McCall asked, brows raised as he snapped me out of my furious thoughts.
Finally realizing that all three of my companions were waiting for me to follow them up to the charred remains of my home, I cleared my throat and tried to appear as impassive as possible.
"Ugh, yeah," I nodded, crossing my arms as the wind picked up a bit.
Climbing the creaky steps, I followed everyone inside the ash-encrusted remains of my childhood home. Hair immediately standing on end, I felt an icy sweat sweep over me.
"Lydia?" I heard Allison call as Scott sniffed around.
"Lydia, are you in here?" Stiles also began poking around, however, soon, everyone's yelps for the redhead began to fade away until they were nothing but distant, garbled voices.
I was alone.
I was standing in the living room, which was still riddled with bullet holes and torn apart from the last time I had stepped foot in the place. Walking around the squeaky floorboards, I paced about and traced my fingers along the fireplace's dusty and ash covered mantle.
Then, the air became dense; the atmosphere grew so thick and heavy that it felt like I was breathing through a straw. Cold shivers running up my spine, I saw a dark shadow out of the corner of my eyes, causing me to spin around.
Nothing.
Breathing uneven, I tried to collect myself.
"Calm down. Your brain's just playing tricks on you," I whispered to myself, but as my friends' faraway calls morphed into an alien voice, goose bumps rose all over my skin.
Charrrlotteeee.
It sounded strangled and scratchy, causing me to freeze right where I stood and my mouth to go dry.
"Relax… you're just…"
Charlotteee.
Looking around wildly, I opened my mouth to call out to my friends, however, the moment my wide, anxious eyes landed on the oddly spotless windowsill across the room, my words got caught in my throat.
An odd, pale light seemed to be coming from it, and as I tentatively inched closer and closer, it appeared as if a gray, swirling fog was seeping in through the crack underneath the glass.
Charlotte.
The voice sounded stronger and more inviting, and as I drifted forward, head cocked to the side and eyes narrowed, my slightly shaking hand reached out and gently touched the glass.
It was freezing and damp from condensation.
Straining my eyes, I looked through the window, but could only see the thick, haunting veil of mist.
Charlotte, come…
The voice was a bit stronger now, and as its memorizing words echoed in my fuzzy brain, I felt myself involuntarily opening the window.
Cold, clammy breeze rushing into the room, my hair blew back as I stared out into the mist. Soon, however, my eye caught something moving in the rotted and long-since-dead window box just below me.
Aunt Talia used to grow the most beautiful flowers in those planters, but obviously since the fire, nothing ever grew in that barren soil… that was, up until now…
Furrowing my brows, I unblinkingly watched as a small green bud emerged from the spoilt dirt, and within mere moments, that little green leaflet bloomed into a large, healthy purple flower.
Wolfsbane.
Thoroughly hypnotized by what I was experiencing, I knew that I shouldn't try to touch the poisonous plant, but I couldn't help myself.
I felt as if I were in a trance, and as the lovely lilac flower began to glow, those beckoning whispers became louder and more forceful.
Charlotte. Come.
Gingerly reaching out, my hand hovered over the plant, only to feel my skin prickling.
Charlotte, come to me.
Trembling, my heart was racing and my mind was spinning, and just as my fingertips plucked the flower out of the soil, every single one of those vibrant, violet petals began oozing with sickly black goo.
Eyes widening, I grimaced in disgust as the plant liquidized and melted into a puddle of thick, sticky goop which could only be compared to rotten oil.
Gagging, I then heard the voice again, but this time, it was much more intimidating.
Come to me!
The shouting assaulted my sensitive eardrums, making me wince and clamp my eyes shut.
COME TO ME!
The voice continued to scream as it became more beastlike, and just as I felt my overwhelmed brain shutting down, I opened my hazy eyes and saw the horrifying sight of five pairs of glowing red eyes.
My heart stopped.
My blood ran cold.
An intense shutter went through my entire stiff body.
Immobilized by fear, my eyes nearly popped out of my face as I watched five large, monstrous figures slowly advancing towards the window.
"G-guys," my terrified voice was stuck in my throat. "Guys," I rasped again, but the animalistic snarls howling at me drowned out my warning.
COME TO ME!
Taking in their towering silhouettes and beady, blood red eyes, I knew I had to warn the others, and as I stumbled back a step or two, fully prepared to get my friends and flee, I tripped right into Stiles.
"Charlie?" he asked, brows furrowed and face completely confused.
"S-Stiles!" my voice was breathless and urgent as I stared up at the now nervous teen. "We need to…"
"Are you okay?" Stilinski seemed completely puzzled as he stared down at my trembling body.
Shaking violently, I could sense something was off.
Wheeling around, I looked behind me, expecting to see the mysterious and eerie fog and five approaching monsters, but there was nothing there.
Blinking, I immediately felt sick, and as Stiles' anxious voice asked me for a second time if I was okay, all I could do was stammer: "Y-yeah… I'm… I'm fine."
What was happening to me? I felt like I was going crazy…
"Are you sure?" he inquired, caramel eyes still fixated on my sheet white face.
"Mhm," I nodded, voice distant. "I, um, I just need some air."
Suddenly seeing Scott and Allison standing in the corner and watching the entire strange exchange, I felt my face grow hot.
Rushing past them, I avoided everyone's intense stairs as I practically fell out of my house.
"What's wrong with her?" Scott whispered as I dizzily made my way down the porch steps, trying to keep myself from hyperventilating.
"She looked like she saw a ghost," Allison noted in a low voice.
What had I seen? What had I been hearing? What the Hell was going on with me? This just had to be really bad withdrawal… right?
Shaking, I paced about, inhaling deeply as I tried to calm myself down.
"Maybe it was too soon to take her here," Stiles ventured a guess as to why I was freaking out.
Maybe that was it…
Maybe on top of quitting my drugs cold turkey, coming back to the Hale house right after such a traumatic experience was setting me off. That had to be it. I was just seeing things. Nothing was really there.
Exhaling, I sighed, feeling myself calming down quite a bit, but just as I went to tuck some loose strands of hair behind my ear, I noticed that my long, slender fingers were coated in that strange and sickening black liquid.
Horrified eyes widening, I furiously wiped the fluid onto my pants just as Allison, Scott, and Stiles all filed out of the house. Eyeing me with concern, I forced a convincing smirk onto my face as I reassured them: "Guys, I'm fine. Let's just find Lydia."
And after a brief pause, all three of my teenage companions seemed to buy it as they headed back towards the Jeep, talking amongst themselves over where the redhead could be, all the while completely unaware that I was slowly losing my mind.
