Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf. I only own my characters and plot. If you recognize it, I probably don't own it.

The Unexpected

Chapter One: "But That's None of My Business." Is Exactly What Destiny Didn't Say

[partially re-written]

The sun peeked in through the eggshell blinds-if they could be called that, since they rarely ever did their job due to the fact that multiple blades were missing-dressing the window and onto the restless blonde's sleeping face. Her eyes cracked open delicately, slowly adjusting to the blinding sun. A groan escaped her throat while she threw the covers to the side of the bed with an agitates flick of the arm.

Her legs swung over the side of her twin bed and onto the dense carpet floor. She could barely maneuver her way around the small room, there were cardboard boxes scattered all around the floor. Some containing clothes. Some containing random nick-knacks. Some just storing junk. One of her small, pale feet made sure to kick an especially bothersome box in front of her dresser. She reveled in the sound of shattering glass.

She quickly traded her sweats and sleeping shirt for a pair of skinny, blue jeans and a clean, grey t-shirt that had Beacon Hills High School logo printed on the front in maroon. And since there was nothing she could do about her wildly curly blonde hair-since she didn't have nearly enough time to run her mother's straightener through it-she pulled it up into a hair tie. Her fingers briskly grappled for her black backpack off the floor beside her door before she bolted to the kitchen and popped two pieces of bread into the toaster.

"Oh," she heard from behind her. "Cara, I thought you were Steve." Her mother, Susan, said as she pulled a bowl out of the cupboard behind her. Cara heard the sound of cereal clanking onto the plastic while she waited for her toast.

"Disappointed?" Cara mused, grabbing all the fixings she wanted for her toast. She noticed there wasn't any butter on the counter or in the fridge. "We're out of butter."

"I'll grab some today on my way home from-" she stopped short, remembering sharply how much her daughter hated hearing about her nightly trips to the bingo hall and the bar. She winced guiltily, looking at Cara's back from the dining room table.

"The bar?" Cara inquired forcefully. She didn't look up from the toaster. Cara hated how she was the only responsible one in her house. Her mom stayed silent behind her. "And can you please tell Steve to get his shit out of my room."

"Well, where do you expect him to put his stuff?" Steve and Susan had been married for a little over a year. But he had been hanging around for the past three years. And Cara has hated him since she first laid eyes on him. "We don't exactly have a spare room, ya know. Or a basement either."

"Yeah, yeah." Cara waved her mother off, pulling the pieces of bread out of the toaster and spreading peanut butter on them. "And when you stop to get butter don't forget milk. Or laundry soap. Or eggs. Or-"

"Do I look like I'm made of money?" her mother asked, cutting her off. Just the stress of thinking about all the money she needed to spend made her crave a cigarette. She grabbed her pack of Camel Lights from the pocket of her robe while her daughter reprimanded her for her serial negligence.

"Well, you sure do go out every night like you are." She accused, watching her mother light up the white stick between her index and middle finger. "Stop smoking in the house. The park doesn't like it and you know that."

"What? Do you want me to smoke outside like a animal or somethin'?" Susan asked after she took a particularly long drag from her cigarette. "I'm not a dog you can just put out when I need to do my business."

Cara swallowed the last of her toast and brushed her hands on her jeans. "If only," she muttered, grabbing her Carhartt and slipping on a pair of converse that were by the door. "Well, I'm leaving. See you after school."

"See ya babe," Her mother smiled at her, letting white smoke seep from between her thin lips and nose. "Have a good first day." Cara rolled her eyes, turning to walk outside without responding.

The bus ride was as uneventful as any, whether it was the first day of her sophomore year or not. A smelly kid sat next to her the whole ride and the bus driver yelled at her for tracking pebbles onto the bus again. The roads inside the trailer park were mainly pebble and stone and they always got stuck to the bottom of her shoes and shook loose when she entered the bus. She shrugged off the frizzy haired woman.

When the bus finally pulled up in front of the school, she walked to her usual spot by the railing in front. The spot where she waited for Boyd everyday so they could walk into the school together. So they weren't alone. This was the routine. Her locker. His locker. Then they split ways to go to class. They met up again at lunch. And then again after school. Everyday.

Cara and Boyd met in kindergarten when they both got in trouble at the same time. Cara had ripped the head off of a barbie doll and put it in another girl's lunch box. Boyd had accidentally walked into the girl's bathroom. Both of their acts were seen as bad enough to sit inside for recess. So they bonded over the fun they weren't allowed to have. Cara compulsively telling him knock-knock jokes and Boyd shushing her so they wouldn't get in trouble.

They stayed friends. And as school went on and they got older, they grew closer and closer. And even now, as sophomores in high school, they were closer than ever. Since Cara had no one at home to look up to or bond with, and Boyd didn't have anyone at home to confide in either, they found comfort in each other. They were each other's safety net. In their eyes, they didn't need anyone else.

"Hey Curly," Cara heard from behind her. She turned to see Boyd. Tall and built, like always. She smiled. She only ever really smiled when it had to do with Boyd.

"Hey Tiny." He smiled, too. Wide and cheeky, showing all his teeth. Their terms of endearment were significantly reserved for the other, no else used those names but Boyd and Cara. "How are you on this exceptional first day?" He laughed as they walked up to the front doors of the school.

"Surprisingly good, considering I just had to take the bus for the hundredth time in my high school career," he complained, glancing at the tiny blonde as they walked through the crowded halls in the direction of her locker.

"Oh hush," Cara chastised. "You could be riding your bike. Or walking." They both shuddered.

"I just wish I had my own car. Then neither of us would have to take the bus." She smiled as they neared her locker.

"That's sweet but," she shrugged, "I know that if you had a car you wouldn't be driving riff-raff like me to school." Boyd laughed.

"And if you're riff-raff than what am I?" Cara giggled, opening her locker to exchange her unwanted items for the things she needed for her first class.

"A riff-raff sympathizer?" He shook his head as Cara closed her locker softly.

Cara walked into her least favorite class of the day with a less-than-enthusiastic mood plaguing her demeanor. Biology with Mr. Harris. It was only the first day and her and her teacher were already on bad terms from the previous year. And she didn't even have his class.

"Ah," he sighed condescendingly from behind his desk. "Miss Rodgers, are you having a good first day?" He always knew how to annoy sarcastic remarks out of Cara. Just by asking a simple question his voice was already gnawing on the inside of Cara's ears.

"Just dandy Mister Harris." Her smirk was over exaggerated and she could sense his fingers itching to write her up.

"Good to hear it."

"Right," she murmured as she quickly trotted to sit at the desk farthest in the back of the class. Cara didn't need Harrison to teach her biology. She had the library, Google, and Boyd to do that for her. Harrison was literally there to make her life hell. As if it wasn't enough of that without his help. She barely paid attention the entire time and despite hiding behind her Biology textbook, Harris sensed that she wasn't paying attention.

"Miss Rodgers," she heard the man himself say from the black board. He didn't even have to look behind him to know he caught her off guard. He prepared himself for sarcasm and attitude. "Do you know the answer?" Cara sighed.

"Sorry Mister Harris, can you repeat the question?" He sighed, turning around to drop his chalk on his desk and give the blonde a discouraging look.

"I would like it if you would pay attention in my class." Cara knew that no matter how this turned out she would end up with a detention. Or multiple ones. So, she threw caution to the wind, like usual, and fired back mercilessly.

"And I would like it if you didn't single me out to humiliate me." Harrison let out a low, exasperated growl.

"I'm not singling you out, Miss Rodgers. I simply pointed out that you don't know the answers that you should, when you should." Her eyebrows pulled together above her eyes.

"I'm sorry and how is that not singling me out, exactly?" He bend over to lean on his desk menacingly and point a slender finger to the classroom door.

"Hallway. Now." Cara ignored the countless eyes following her as she stood from her desk to strut through the aisles and out of the classroom door, Harris following closely behind. Once they were outside he rounded on her like a rabid animal. The only thing he hated more than youth and stupidity was being disrespected. And that so happened to be Cara's specialty.

"When will you learn to have some respect in my classroom?! Do I have to write you up every single class?! Do I have to give you a detention everyday for the rest of the year? If this is how you're going to be for the rest of the year, you can kiss every lacrosse game or after school activity for the rest of the year goodbye. Because if you don't improve, don't think I won't take away every privilege you have weaseled your way into receiving." Harrison saw red.

"You think taking away some stupid games I don't go to and activities I don't like will hurt me?" Cara hated being expected to respect people who didn't respect her. "Here's an idea: stop making me the target of your humiliations and maybe I won't have to call you out on it." Harrison brandished a finger at the classroom door.

"Go. Expect to be sitting in my classroom after school tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. For a long time," he stated.

"Great, now I can sit in your classroom and not do your homework instead of doing that at home." A satisfied feeling grew in the pit of Cara's stomach as she watched Harris' face practically glow red.

"Go!" Harrison yelled. Cara only smirked as she walked back into the classroom.

"Okay so how about this," Cara offered as her and Boyd strolled into the carry out that was down the street from the school. "If you tell your parents you're going to Mikey's house and I tell my mom and Steve I'm going to Amy's, we could pack all our shit and with our combined money we could buy two bus tickets and ditch this place. Find somewhere else to dwell for the rest of our miserable lives."

Boyd laughed as he removed two Gaterades from a cooler along the back wall of the store. "And where would we dwell, exactly?"

"I don't know. Vegas? No, how about Seattle? Or LA? I would literally dwell anywhere but here," she said with finality. This is something they always fantasized about. Running away. Finding a new life. Leaving everything behind. Not looking back. But they were just that, fantasies.

"We could do that," Boyd started. "But, you don't even like Amy. You guys are barely lab partners."

"My mom barely remembers my middle name, Boyd. She's not going to know whether or not I'm friends with Amy," Cara claimed as they continued walking through the store.

"But she will know that you only have one friend. And that's me," Boyd retorted. Cara rolled her eyes.

"That's where lying comes in. I can say we have a biology project or something, I don't know." The taller of the two recalled hearing something particularly bad about the blonde during the day that had to do with that exact subject.

"I heard you and Harris had a little argument today." Boyd said. Cara shrugged.

"If it could even be called that. An argument means that the two have an equal chance of winning said argument. I wiped the floor with his smug little pug face." He chuckled. Cara was always someone who didn't take crap from people. The only person who she took crap from was her mother, and even then, Cara wasn't afraid to let her have it. "But that's off topic, we were discussing our escape plans. I was thinking, how about Long Beach?"

Boyd shook his head as they neared the clerk. "That sounds good and all but I have a really big test tomorrow and I just don't think I can miss it." Cara smacked Boyd's sturdy shoulder while he placed their two items on the check out counter. It was only the first day, she knew he was lying, but didn't press it any more.

"Yeah whatever," she rolled her eyes and snatched her drink when it was done being paid for. Her eyes looked up at the clock behind the clerk. "Hey, don't you have to be at work?"

"Shit," Boyd mumbled, reaching into his pockets to grip his keys. "You can get home alright, right?" he asked quickly, already backing up to the door. Cara nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Without another word, he turned and rushed down the street in the direction of the ice rink. Cara chuckled, strutting out of the store and turning towards her own destination.

The bingo hall looked dead. Like always. But Cara knew her mother was there. She always was. And besides, she could see Steve's rusty '82 Renault Fuego sitting directly next to the main entrance anyways.

She walked to the doors quickly. Cara hated this place. It looked like a nursing home and smelt like stale cardboard. This was where people went when they were on their last leg. Or if they were a thirty-something drunk mother who didn't want to do any actual work to earn money to raise her only child.

If we're being specific.

The lady who handed out the cards at the front desk smiled at Cara. The lady knew Susan and Steve well and was always eavesdropping when Cara came down to the hall. Cara strutted past the woman and made her way towards the rows of empty tables. There were only about ten people in the whole hall. So, she spotted her fumbling mother easily.

"Mom," She hissed, sitting down next to the red head.

"Oh, hey sweets," Susan said, intently reading her cards as numbers were being call off.

"What the hell are you doing?" The elder woman smiled up at the blonde. Her pink dauber in hand ready to mark the next number called.

"Well, I'm winning," she said, as if it were obvious. "What does it look like?"

"It looks like you spent our grocery money on eleven bingo cards." Susan swatted the girl away, listening as a number was called. Her marker moved to cover the number as a smile grew on her face.

"Oh stop fussing. It's a rough crowd tonight, I'm bound to win something," she reasoned. Cara's hand moved to clutch her forehead. A massive migraine was beginning to form directly behind her eyes.

"Mom," She stressed. "How much money do you have left?"

"Oh don't be silly." The end of the dauber found it's way between Susan's yellowing teeth. "I spent it all." Cara was ready to strangle the daylights out of her mother. The woman was an irresponsible idiot.

"You've got to be kidding me-Mom?" She nearly screamed.

"Relax babe, I'm gonna win tonight and then we'll go grocery shopping if you want," Susan stated, nearly giggling as she marked another number on one of her cards.

"I can't believe you right now." Cara stood from the table. Susan looked up at her daughter. She felt guilty. But she was going to win big tonight, she could feel it. Cara would understand later when she came home with the prize money and arms full of groceries. She looked determined back down to her cards again.

Cara turned and left the hall, walking out into the dark night. Her mother could be so stupid sometimes. Cara knew that in someway she believed she was doing something good. But, Cara constantly told her not to spend her money on useless endeavors like bingo or lottery tickets. Albeit, those tactics were hopeless. Susan did as she pleased. And Cara knew that.

With a heavy sigh, she started to make her way home. Even though she knew Steve would be there. Maybe if she just ignored him, he would leave her alone.

That was never the case though.

She sighed and continued to walk, hiking her backpack higher up onto her shoulders.

The lights on the yellowing ceiling of the single-wide mobile home flickered. Leave it to Steve to not pay the fucking electric bill on time, Cara thought to herself as she sat at the dining room table-well, the table that was between the living room couch and the yellow fridge in their kitchen. Two uncooked pizza Lunchables and the cherry Gaterade that Boyd had bought her earlier that day was what sat in front of her, next to her English homework. One hand clutched an especially short no. 2 pencil and the other one held a thin piece of bread with cold pizza sauce and raw cheese sprinkled on top.

"Why do you have to do that crap at the table?" Steve asked while he staggered into the small kitchen to go straight to the fridge.

"Because I can't do it anywhere else," she shot back, not even bothering to glance up at the unshaven, smelly, poor-excuse for a step-father. "All your shit is taking up my bedroom."

"Watch it, girly." He reprimanded, brandishing an unsteady finger at the small blonde. She merely scoffed. "I pay the bills in this place, I deserve some respect."

"Yeah, and I deserve my room back." Her green eyes looked up into his murky brown ones. "But, as you and Mick Jagger like to say, we don't always get what we want." Cara didn't even bat an eyelash when he slammed his aluminum can down onto the stained counter. Steve didn't scare her.

"You don't get to talk to me like that!" He huffed, using the full capacity of his useless left leg to march over to her. Steve was a veteran from the Gulf War, he was honorably discharged due to taking a bullet in the leg after only being on the front lines for a few months. To this day, there were still shards stuck in his flesh, leaving his leg partially paralyzed.

"Who's going to stop me?" Cara inquired condescendingly. "You? Mom? She can barely take care of herself let alone me. I'm sixteen, you guy's can't control me like you used to. I'm not scared of you anymore, Steve." She spat out his namce like it was poison.

"You're grounded!" He shouted, hoping to pry a reaction from her. These days, he was losing his touch. Steve used to be able to look at Cara the wrong way and make her burst into hysterics. But since she started high school, he hasn't gotten so much as a hiccup from her.

"Yeah, okay," Cara muttered. "You don't have the authority to ground me. You're not my dad." Her words made his face grow red. All he wanted to do was grab a handful of her corkscrew blonde hair and yank it from her head.

"Well, when your mom gets home she's going to ground you. Because god forbid I do anything a step-dad is supposed to do." She only rolled her eyes at him, standing up to collect her trash and throw it away, strutting right by him. Her shoulder roughly bumped his, throwing him off balance. It only fed the fire burning inside him. "Get out," He seethed.

"What?" Cara asked him incredulously after she dropped her trash into the waste basket.

"Get out,"

"You can't be serious," she stated, looking at him like he just grew two more heads. "You can't kick me out. It's pouring outside."

"Well tough. I don't want to look at you until you gain some respect." Steve told her, pointing behind him at the back door. Cara gave him a look, and man, if looks could kill. She ripped her coat off the hook on the wall and slammed her feet into a pair of flip flops next to the door. They might have been her mom's, she wasn't sure. She didn't want to go to her room to get more sensible shoes or a coat with a hood, it would have ruined her dramatic exit. With her hand on the brass door handle, ready to run out into the night, she turned back to her step-dad, her eyes burning straight into his.

"Fuck you." And with that, she wrenched the door open and ran outside into the frosty air, slamming it behind her. It was raining buckets and the wind made the heavy drops go straight into her face. As she walked down the peppled road that lead to the exit of the trailer park, she dug into her pockets for her phone. Luckily, it was in the back pocket of her skinny jeans. For a split second, she thought of calling her mom. Telling her how terrible of a person Steve was, how he kicked her out into the cold and rain of the night. And she fantasized of how her mom would drop everything and come running home to save her and get rid of Steve once and for all. But, cold hard reality stuck her like a jagged knife. Her mom would never get rid of Steve. Her mom would rather Steve stay there to pay the bills rather than divorce him to protect her daughter. Her only child. Cara would be on the streets before Steve would be.

So instead, she called the only other number she had in her phone.

Boyd.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. "Hey, this is Boyd. Um, sorry I missed your call. I'll try to get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks."

"Uh, hey Boyd. It's Cara. Um, can you give me a call when you get this? It's kinda important. Uh-yeah, bye."

Cara sighed, trying him again. And again. And again. Around the fifth time she tried calling him, aggravated tears were forming in her eyes. Her fingers punched in his number again forcefully. So much so, that her slippery wet fingers lost their grip on her small, slippery, pre-paid phone.

It was simply destiny that she was standing over a storm drain.

The tiny girl fell desperately to her knees next to the drain. Her small arm reached through the bars to grasp at her phone that was starting to sink into the collected rain water. But, they were just too short to reach. And her phone was already so deeply sunk that she couldn't see it anymore.

Fuck being small, she thought to herself, sitting back defeated. The passing of headlights made her hand fly up to protect her eyes from the bright rays. But, they didn't continue on, they stayed shining in her eyes. Cara went into defense mode. It was dark-probably about ten o'clock at night-and she was a 16 year old girl. This car could very well contain a kid-napper, rapist, murderer, anyone could be in that car.

Destiny must have intervened again because it wasn't any of those people.

"Hey!" She heard them shout out the window. Her eyes tried to look across the road at the person sitting behind the steering wheel. But the rain and the lingering tears in her eyes made it difficult to see two feet in front of her. "Hey! Are you okay?"

"What?" She called back. The rain and the wind and the clanking of their car made it nearly impossible for her to comprehend what they were saying.

"I said," they screamed out their window. "Are you okay?" Cara stood from her place on the wet concrete and slowly made her way across the road to the car. Well, now that she looked, it was a jeep. Her face scrunched in confusion when she saw the face of her knight in plaid armor.

"Not really," Cara stated. Stiles nodded, his foot firmly planted in his mouth.

"Right," He tapped his steering wheel. "Of course, you're not okay." His words faded awkwardly, leaving them in a thick silence while Cara continued to stand in the pouring rain next to his door. Suddenly Stiles jumped, leaning over his passenger seat to grasp the handle. "Sorry, here." He looked back at Cara, grimacing. "Get in," Cara practically ran around Stiles' jeep to climb in.

"Thanks," a sigh left her lips. Her blonde hair stuck to the side of her face and droplets of water raced down her pale cheeks and neck and disappeared into her shirt collar. He only thought about his seats getting wet for a moment before he looked up into the green eyes of the girl next to him, his head shook on it's own accord.

"Do you- uh," Stiles paused, thinking his words over again before continuing. "Do you need, like, a-uh, a ride or something?" Cara thought for a second, weighing both of her options. I could either walk a mile or so in the cold rain until I find a gas station, or I could ride in a warm, dry jeep to one.

"Um, yeah, if you don't mind." She said politely, trying her best to sound immensely grateful for his gallant offer. "That would be great."

"No, not at all-um no I don't mind, not no I won't give you a ride. I mean, I offered, so I mean, I'm sure you knew that but I just thought that I'd-ya know-clarify." Stiles stuttered out in one quick breath. The jeep smelt like curly fries and cheep air freshener, but she would take that over pouring rain any day. Stiles quickly peeled off, grabbing tact from the road to speed off into the night. "Where do you need to go?" He asked her quietly.

"Uh," she murmured. The first thought that came to her mind was going to Boyd's. He would no doubt find a way to get his parents to let her stay. But, she didn't want to just show up, since he didn't answer his phone, she figured he was busy. "You can just drop me off at the next gas station we see."

Stiles gave her a peculiar glance from the corner of his eye. Part of him wondered if she was in trouble. She was a pretty, blonde girl who was wandering around Beacon Hills in the rain at ten o'clock at night, wearing flip flops and a Carhartt. It didn't exactly seem like this was her normal week night. He didn't want to question her, he didn't want to pry into her choices. He did a good deed, he helped a damsel in distress. He didn't need her back story, too.

"The next gas station we see it is then." He stated over the rain pelting on the roof of his jeep. Cara just gave him a short look. She was thankful, yes. But, she didn't want to do small talk.

Although, the pregnant silence that grew around them was suffocating. There was no music, no talking. Just the sound of the tires spinning and the rain falling. Cara was always good with her words, but she was at a loss. Probably for the first time since she could remember. But luckily, Stiles felt the need to break the tension also.

"So, um," He started nervously. "Do you go to Beacon Hills High?"

"Yeah, I do," she said. "Do you?" Stiles nodded his head, tapping his fingers along to an imaginary beat.

"Sophomore," He stated. "You?"

"Sophomore." She confirmed, pulling her coat closer to her. It wasn't the air that made her cold. It was the conversation. Talking about herself was never a strong suit.

"It's almost weird how we're in the same grade and we don't know each other." Stiles said, as-a-matter-of-fact. Cara nodded, folding her arms in front of her.

"I guess," It made her worry how easily he got her to talk when he didn't even know her. "I mean, I'm not really a social butterfly at school. I'm not that surprised we don't know each other." She shrugged.

"Well, I'm not exactly on the top of the totem pole either but, I know people. I've lived here my whole life though, so."

"So have I," Cara cut in quickly.

"Oh," Stiles said, unsure of how to respond. Insert foot in mouth, part dos.

"Yeah," Her shoulders lifted apathetically. "I don't really care if everyone in the school knows who I am or likes me."

"No, I get it." Stiles thought of all . "It's just rare to find anyone who feels totally indifferent towards social stature. Especially in high school."

"I guess I'm just a rare find." Cara said, looking out the window. Admitting that she hated being an outcast was not on her list of things to do for the night. She watched the beads of water fall down the window, following them with her eyes.

After a few minutes of sitting in silence-since Stiles didn't know how to carry the conversation any longer-Cara could see the lights of a gas station in the distance. Stiles did, too. He pulled into the gas station, slowly bringing the jeep to a stop in front of the entrance doors.

"Well, looks like this is my stop." Cara muttered, readying herself to step out into the cold air.

"Yeah," Stiles said. He was beginning to feel guilty about leaving this girl to fend for herself in this deserted gas station. His father didn't raise him like this. "Hey, look. Are you sure you want to stay here, I mean, I could find you somewhere to chill. I mean we could go sit at the police station or-"

"No, I'm fine here. I just need to wait for someone." She quickly intersected. The last thing she needed was to be asked a bunch of questions by the police.

"If-If you have somewhere else to be, I could drive you. I'm not, like, busy or anything." Cara simpered at the boy, only now realizing she hadn't yet gotten his name. And also realizing this was the first time she had come close to a smile all night.

"No, it's fine. I promise." He nodded reluctantly. "I just realized we don't know each other's names." Stiles' eyebrows bunched together above his eyes, now coming to this realization also.

"Crap, well I'm rude. Um, I'm Stiles Stilinski." He reached over the console to shake the blonde's hand. She grasped his lightly, afraid of making direct contact with him.

"I'm Cara," she said quickly, pulling his eyes to hers, "Rodgers. Um, Cara Rodgers," she continued awkwardly. Familiarity sparked inside Stiles. Oh yeah, he thought, I've heard of her. Cara was known around the school notoriously. Since freshman year people have been talking about how she talks back to teachers and how she has problems with authority figures. Though he has never actually seen her, this is not how he imagined her to look. Cara let go of his hand, hurriedly turning around to push the door open and jump out of the jeep. "Thanks for the ride," she muttered, pulling her coat around her tighter.

"No-uh, no problem." Stiles stuttered. She gave him a tight-lipped smile before she quickly turned around to march into the 24-hour Gas-N-Sip.

A/N

First attempt at a Teen Wolf fanfiction. Any pointers would be fantastic.

-blahicantthinkofaname xoxo