I woke up in Scott's bed, sheets and blankets tangling around my arms and legs. I fought with the blankets to free my limbs before sitting up and stretching out my body. Vertebrae, fingers, one knee, and almost all of my toes; all stretched out and ready for action. I glanced at the clock after I rubbed my face, running a hand over my face and through my hair - it was nearly 12:30 in the afternoon. A wide stream of light was pouring in through the window and onto the bed, and I really didn't want to get up. I just wanted to lay back down and roll over and go back to sleep. I remember feeling so exhausted last night by the time I was finished crying that I fell almost instantly asleep, cradled in Scott's arms. But I needed to get up and do something. Take my mind off of...it.

Everyone that I could talk to - or want to, for that matter - were all at school. I didn't want to bother the Three Musketeers (if you didn't guess already, the musketeers are Scott, Stiles and Isaac) by just wanting to talk to them, especially when they all were likely to be in class at the moment. Melissa, though...I had no idea if she was even here or not. I didn't hear a television on or the sounds of someone moving around in the house. Maybe she had gone to work, or was out running errands. I let out a yawn-sigh before crawling off the bed and heading to the bathroom through the open door of Scott's room. I stumbled into the bathroom, nearly tripping over my own feet. I kept forgetting there was a rug in front if the sink; one day I would flat out trip and hit my head on the floor, giving myself a goose-egg before it disappeared as quickly as it had formed. I stared at my reflection in the mirror that hung over the sink, leaning over the marbled countertop to get a better look at my face. There were slight bags under my eyes, way less noticeable than they had been before, and my cheeks were slightly rosy. I didn't look too bad. My hair, on the other hand, was a complete disaster. It was sticking up every which-way, half of the back of my head was almost standing completely on end. Curse its curly nature. Whenever I just go to sleep with it wet it turns into a mini afro. I should never ever sleep with my hair just down ever again. It just turns into a fluffy, insanely wavy and curly mess. I made quick work, running my hands through my hair to try and calm it down, working out the snarls that had grown into it overnight with my fingers. It wasn't as bad as before, but it was still mildly fluffy. I just let out a defeated sigh and pulled a hairband from my wrist, gathering up my hair and pulling it into a crap bun.

I made my way for the stairs next with a sigh at my pretty much unsuccessful attempt to make myself look at least somewhat presentable. I trudged down them, rubbing my face and yawning when I reached the bottom. I walked into the kitchen, my bare feet slapping the tiled floor. It was cold, so moved swiftly around the kitchen so my feet wouldn't freeze; now that I knew where everything was, I could make myself food quickly and with ease. It still felt strange, though, eating the food that Melissa had bought. I wasn't her kid and I did nothing to contribute to food-buying, so yeah, I felt a little guilty. But it was either eat or starve in the McCall household, and starve wasn't really an option. Scott or Melissa would force something into my hands to eat if I hadn't had anything in a while. So it was eat because you're going to eat anyway.

I had began pouring milk into a bowl full of Frosted Flakes when I heard keys jingle behind me. I stopped pouring and turned around to see Melissa standing there, all dressed up in her scrubs, purse on her shoulder. She was pulling her keys out of her purse and shuffling around in it a bit.

"Oh, you're awake," she said, noticing me standing there. I guess I had been abnormally quiet as I moved around the kitchen, or she was just too preoccupied at the moment. Probably both.

"Yeah. Just got up, actually." I returned to my cereal, pouring the desired amount of milk into it before putting the jug back into the fridge and taking my bowl over to the table. I pulled myself out a chair and sat down, taking a bite of the deliciously sugary cereal. "Leaving for work?"

"Yeah," she said somewhat exasperatedly, rolling her eyes just a little. "They just called me in because apparently someone forgot to - oh, sorry, I don't want bother you with the details. I'll just leave before I start rambling about my problems to you." She walked over to the door, but hovered before grabbing the handle and pulling the door open. She looked back to me, a little look concern on her face. "Nat, honey, if you need anything, don't hesitate to call."

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine here by myself." The words that formed in my brain were, in fact, a little different than what had came out of my lips. Something along the lines of: 'Scott'll be home in like three hours and I'll be fine when he gets here.' "I'll probably just end up sleeping some more and watching crappy daytime television."

"Okay, if you say so. But really, if you accidentally break something, you can't figure out how to work the washing machine, you stub your toe, call me anyway. I'd rather be here than there." She smiled, and I did too.

"Will do, Melissa."

I ended up doing exactly what I god Melissa I was going to do. After I had finished eating my breakfast/lunch, I had retreated to the couch, attempting to watch something, carefully avoiding news channels. At some point in the middle of a talk show - I wasn't sure which wine it was, there are so many nowadays - I got incredibly tired. I was functioning on approximately almost ten hours of sleep, so that was strange. I felt bad for Scott though, having most likely woken him up at like two in the morning because I was having a bad dream; he probably had less than four hours of sleep right now. But there was a bed upstairs, one that was comforting and probably all toasty and warm from the stream of sunlight that shone in through the window. I gave up eventually, returning to the comfy bed of Scott's bedroom.

.

I had actually managed to sleep in my own room for the past couple of nights, Scott checking in on me near midnight each night to see if I was okay; some nights I was not. The first time he had done it I nearly mauled him because he had scared the living daylights out of me.

I had now permanently adopted his navy blue tee shirt, using as a Scott-comfort replacement, also as pajamas. While on the subject of clothing articles, I was actually able to return to my house to collect my belongings, which consisted mostly of clothing. The area where my mother had been had been scrubbed clean, but I could still see vague outlines of red on the wall and stained into the carpet.

.

Wednesday. Wednesday was the day that I returned to Beacon Hills High. Not officially, though - only just to get and fill out registration stuff. I wouldn't actually be going back to school until next week, at the earliest. But returning to school was both good and bad, from the scenarios I was imagining in my head about what the first day would be like (I attribute my excessive watching of Mean Girls over the past few years to be the cause of this) and I had a pretty good idea of what some of them would be. The main one that was circulating in my brain was a scene right out of a movie: my truck would break down, forcing me to get a ride with Scott, unless I wanted to walk to school. I would then arrive, and be a "mystery girl" because no one cared to remember that I actually went to the same school as them. I could pretend I was someone I wasn't for a while, until a week or two after people finally figured out who I was. I would then proceed to be the object of gossip, people saying that I actually murdered my mother and that it wasn't a "wild animal attack" like the police had said it was. To bad they wouldn't actually learn the truth of the story; they'd have an absolute field day with that. Well, field day or absolute horror.

. . . . .

As Wednesday arrived, I refused to get out of bed. Scott had come into my room several hours prior before he left for school, wishing me good luck. I ended up throwing a pillow at him and complaining to him for waking me up at six o'clock in the morning, because my usual waking time had become noon - if I could get six more hours of sleep right now, I'd be all for it. But now it was noon-ish, and I needed to get up and get going to BHHS.

I dressed lazily, throwing on the pair of jeans I'd been wearing for the past two days and a sweatshirt over my navy blue pajama shirt. Essentially, I hadn't even changed out of my pajamas. I pulled my scuffed up on converse on as I hopped down the stairs, heading for the door with my keys and phone in one hand.

.

When I entered the main office, there was a kid sitting in one of the chairs, grinning, with a huge bruise across his cheek, a eye that was slowly but surely swelling up, and a split on his lip. He was just sitting there, twiddling his thumbs like nothing had happened. Strange. I talked quietly with the lady at the front desk and got registration papers, taking them and sitting a few seats away from the kid - which wasn't very far since there were only four chairs available for sitting in the office. I quickly filled out the parts at the top that consisted of your name, birthday, grade, etc. But when I got to the "address" and "legal guardian" parts, I paused. I thought about just putting down Scott's address and Melissa's name, and put the pen to the paper twice, ready to write them. But I just sighed, leaving them blank for now. If ask the lady at the desk what I should put, but it was rather unlikely she'd know what to do since parental murder and non-officially legal guardians was not a totally common thing. I filled the rest of the form out that I could, and I couldn't help but chuckle to myself just a little when I had to write down my list of allergies. Even though Scott had told me that becoming a werewolf basically cured you of any ailment, hence his current lack of athsma, he wasn't sure if it did anything for allergies. So, being the idiots that we are, I tried to eat a blackberry. Now, don't get distressed, I'm not deathly allergic to them, I just get hives, a stomach ache, and red in the face. Lets just say I'm still allergic to blackberries.

Filling out the form couldn't have taken me more than 10 minutes, minus the home address and legal guardian parts. And being still completely oblivious even though I had enhanced senses, I did not notice that the boy who had been sitting a chair away from me had not-so-conspicuously leaned over the arm of his chair towards me, invading my little bubble of personal space.

"Can I help you?" in a slightly sassy tone came out of my mouth before I could compute what I was saying.

"Oh, you can help me alright."

He was one of those guys. One of those guys that took any chance they had to flirt with someone, even with - especially in this case - a beaten and bruised face. I saw the lady at the desk flit her eyes upwards to look at us, before shaking her head and going back to typing on her keyboard. I sighed internally, but turned to look at him anyway. And by look, I mean glare/give a look of annoyance.

"Kidding!" He held up his hands, an innocent gesture. But I could feel an arrogant air around him, like he somehow thought he was better than everybody else; saying "kidding" didn't fool me at all. But he continued talking, even though I desperately wanted to punch him in the face to make him stop. "So, you new here? Obviously yes, because you're filling out that form." Sadly enough, becoming a werewolf did not cure me of my stupid mannerisms; not being able to stop a conversation (with a stranger) because I didn't want to be rude was one. "But I feel like I've seen you before..."

"Probably not," I said quietly, wanting to add because I was practically dead for a few days. He shrugged at my response, and continued talking.

"Hey, can't remember everybody. So, did you just move here?"

"Nope, Beacon Hills all my life." Please someone enter the office and beat him with a hammer so he'll shut up.

"Oh, really? Just moving schools then?"

"No."

"Coming from homeschooling?"

"Still no."

"Where are you coming from then?" he asked, shifting in his seat so he was facing me and leaning over the arm. I felt like I was being scrutinized under his gaze, like he was picking me to pieces. The fact he was trying to learn things about me made the feeling worse, since I usually kept to myself, the only persons whom I actually told personal stuff being Scott and Melissa. I was just about to get up and excuse myself to use the bathroom to escape this unwanted conversation, when I was saved. The door to the principal's office swung open, a boy a with an equally as bruised face as the boy sitting next to me stepping out, the principal following behind him. The unknown boy glared at the one next to me as he walked to the exit and left, and chair boy was smirking the whole time. I assumed that by the way the two boys looked at each other, the one leaving the office had started the fight and chair boy had finished it, "winning" the fight. Winning really meant beating the other up until the other couldn't stand, or the last one to throw a punch before the fight was broken up. The principal pointed to chair boy and threw a thumb over his shoulder in the most serious way possible.

"Ward. Office. Now."

"Well, see ya' later, Natalie. We can finish this later," he said with a wink as he got up and walked over where the principal was standing. I cringed slightly when he used my name, probably picking it up from what I had put on the form. What else had he seen? Good thing I didn't put down an address or a phone number, so he would have no potential way of stalking me unless he followed me home. I hoped that wasn't going to be the case.

I got up out of my chair after a few minutes and walked over to the front desk, handing the lady the clipboard she had given me. She took it and quickly looked over it, before bringing forth the question I dreaded most about doing this:

"You haven't filled this section," she said, pointing to where I hadn't filled the paper out.

"Well, you see, um...I haven't exactly got a legal guardian at the moment, and in staying with a family friend for the time being." I stared at her and then to where my name was written on the paper, hoping she'd catch on to what I was saying. She ought to have seen the news lately, everyone has. She looked back to the paper, then muttered an "oh dear".

"I'm so sorry, and for your loss," she said with apologetic eyes.

"It's okay," I said, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Whenever you can get the information to me will be fine, take all the time you need," she said, writing something quickly on an orange sticky note and sticking it to my registration form. "Have a good day." She gave me a quick smile. I smiled in return, turning and walking towards the exit.

The bell sounded as I walked across the grounds towards my truck. I slowed my walk, glancing around at the students that flooded to the parking lot, looking for any third of the three musketeers. I was surprised when two thirds of the trio appeared behind me and each grabbed a respective arm, pulling me towards the school. I was nearly lifted off my feet as Scott and Stiles dragged me to a table nearby. The two sat opposite me and Stiles opened his mouth before I could ask why I was dragged over here.

"My dad's going to have you come to the station later for questioning, but it's going to be mostly custody stuff."

"How do you kn-"

"I overheard him talking on the phone. I also may or may not have looked through a few folders with your name on it that were sitting on his desk. Anyway, just in case he happens to actually question you about the mur-" Scott shot Stiles a look. "Er, accident, we should all have a set story, just to be safe. I mean, he probably won't do it all at once. He'll probably get a read for you and then do it in like a week."

.

"So, no godparent?" Sheriff Stilinski asked, rubbing his forehead.

"Nope," I answered. I was an orphan now; my dad had died when I was young, so that left me with no parents whatsoever, including godparents. My mom was an only child, and I didn't know if my dad had any siblings. The sheriff sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"And you're living with Melissa and Scott as of now?"

"That is correct."

He crossed his arms and an expression of thought came over his face. There was silence for a while and I started to get a little worried. he sat back up, grabbing the phone that was on his desk off its base.

"Since you're almost eighteen, putting you in a foster home really wouldn't do any good. I'll give Melissa a call and see how she feels about temporary custody." He began dialing the number, but flicked his hand towards the door of his office. "You can go out and walk around or get a drink or something while I do." He put the phone up to his ear, pulling the speaking end back a little bit. "And be sure to push the door open really hard. Moral support, really?" He shook his head. "I don't believe him for a second."

I grinned, getting up from the chair and walking over to the door. I stayed out of the view of the glass and twisted the door handle as slowly as I could, then pushing against the door with all of my weight. There was a thunk and a groan from the other side of the door, and I just continued to push the door open, pushing Stiles across the floor.

"That's what you get for trying to listen in, terrible floor burn," I told him, shutting the door behind me. "You know, you could've just asked me what he said and I would've told you." He stood up, frowning, and brushed the dirt off his clothes.

"Well?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Well what?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Well, what did my dad say?"

"Practically nothing about anything, although he seemed a little annoyed that I don't have an living relatives that I know of. He's calling Melissa to she if she'd mind taking temporary custody of me until I'm eighteen."

"She probably won't mind, I am practically her second child," Stiles said, shrugging his shoulders. "Isaac's her third. That makes you her fourth."

"Uh, no. That'd make me her second, you her third and Isaac her fourth."

"Whatever."

"You're jealous."

"Am not."

"Are too." I stuck my tongue out at him, to which he responded with the same gesture. I was about to say "jealousstilessayswhat", when the sheriff's door opened, and sheriff Stilinski stepped out. He motioned for me to come back into his office, leaving the door open. I sat back down in the seat, and he took back his own.

"Well, Melissa is okay with taking temporary custody, but she has to come down to the station to fill out a few forms before it's official. Well need your signature too, so we can arrange a day for both you to fill them out."

"That's fine by me." I assumed he finished and that I was okay to leave, but I was waiting for a handshake and a smile, telling me I was free to go. But one didn't come.

"So, Nat..." He folded his hands together. Oh god, here it comes, was what I was thinking. He's gonna question me and I'm not going to remember the set story that we had agreed to tell. "I know I'm not a psych analyst, but how have you been...holding up?"

I instantly thought to the occasional nightmares I had had. Well, not really nightmares. More of memories surfacing from what I didn't remember and things I was trying to repress surfacing again. But it wasn't as bad as it could've been. I mean, she's been gone for not even a week, and I have only broken down once so far. That's good, right? What I did isn't driving me borderline insane, so that has to be better than normal. I just wish it was something that I wouldn't be constantly reminded of. I'd get over it eventually, like I did when my pet hamster died. I'm not trying compare my mother to a hamster, but it's the best example I have. I'd forgive myself, having a nightmare once in a while, like a normal person would. Well, then again, I'm not normal.

"I'm...I'm holding up good," a quick, sad smile.

A/N: I'm back and better than ever because this chapter is 4k+ words, how's that for a comeback (like really it's not even that long, what am I bragging about?).

Also I wanted to note that this fanfiction takes place before/during/after the big super boss battle with Deucalion and Julia/Jennifer. So as of now, Scott is an alpha. Just wanted to clear that up in case you didn't know (which you probably didn't because I didn't tell you guys at all).

Also school sucks because I have no time to do anything (aka write fanfiction).