23. January 2011 - Sunday

In the morning, she didn't want to chase sleep out from under her eyelids for a very different reason than before. This time she was afraid that everything would turn out to be just a dream, although the strong arms wrapped around her waist indicated otherwise. She lay motionless for a while, enjoying the warmth radiating from the man beside her. She was surprised at how rested and relaxed she felt, even though the previous evening she had let the Darkness and the demons hidden within her take over. This thought brought her abruptly back down to earth, she suspected that sooner or later she would have to explain this point to him too, as he had surely already sensed that what was happening between them was not a purely physical attraction.

'I know you're awake...' he muttered in her ear, in a voice still heavy from sleep. 'Do you feel like spending the day in bed?'

'Of course I do,' she replied, turning to him with a broad smile. 'However, I remind you that you promised me breakfast.'

His reply was only a throaty murmur as he stood up and moved his lips over the curve of her ear. Before he left the room he put on his jeans and she watched with the smile of a cat who had just picked at the greasy cream. The time for serious conversations would come later, she decided; they both deserved a day off from their worries. For a blink of an eye she saw Sharon's smiling face under her eyelids and remembered their conversation in the market: "if he brings you breakfast in bed, you'd better chain him to the radiator and not let him out". Clearly, the woman must have sensed what was coming, because Charlotte felt like following her advice.

Once she had gone downstairs after breakfast and a shower, she found Derek browsing through her vinyl collection in the living room. He had just started up one of her favourite Presley records, and when the first notes of music flew he croaked playfully. Clearly their musical tastes didn't match as well as their bodies. She sighed loudly as she realised the flow of her own thoughts and headed for the cardboard boxes lined up against the wall. She couldn't concentrate in his presence, and Darkness was quietly bubbling under her skin the whole time. She was sure the werewolf could smell It, but so far he hadn't dared to ask the questions she could clearly see in his eyes as he cast her stealthy glances.

When she unwrapped the first carton, he had already managed to change the vinyl, to music that was a little more contemporary and some rather aggressive rock was flying from the speaker. She was a little surprised, as she had no idea that Luisa had also packed her this part of quite a large collection. Derek was browsing through a book, pulled from the bookcase, she got the impression that the man was either deathly bored or very annoyed. He held in his hands a romance written in French, clearly not knowing what he was looking at.

'I don't think literature of that kind appeals to you,' she remarked with a raised eyebrow. She often did in front of him and for a moment she even worried that a permanent wrinkle would form on her forehead. 'Put it down and ask. I don't promise to know all the answers, but I think it will be better than a frustrated werewolf rampaging through my living room.'

He put the book back exactly where he had taken it from. Charlotte really had no idea why it was this particular item that Luise had packed in one of the boxes, she was afraid to unpack the others because it seemed her cousin had sent her most of the stuff, as if she expected the witch to never return to Louisiana again. He sat down in the chair opposite her and hung his gaze on her, clearly searching for words.

'You know far more about me than I know about you, and that concerns me. What exactly are you? What does it mean that you are a Witch?' He asked, picking one of the basic questions from Charlotte's personal list.

'It means only that I am an ordinary human being with a slightly expanded perception. I can see and feel things that others might not, human auras, emotions, sometimes flashes of memories. But it's not like your hearing or smell, it doesn't work automatically, at least in most cases. Me, I need specific rituals and spells, which can be very whimsical and don't always work. It's hard to describe what that actually means.' she explained, although she herself had not fully understood the nature of her gift all her life, as well as the Curse that his next question was about, she was sure of it.

'And your scent... You smell almost like a wolf, of forest, anger, blood and...' he didn't finish, probably unsure how to define everything he was able to smell from her.

She was silent for a moment, wondering if her abilities were beginning to expand to include clairvoyance, or if his train of thought was so obvious to her.

'It's something else... I've had bad luck in the past and... I call it the Darkness, or the Curse. During one of my travels I came across a rather dark cult making blood sacrifices... Some part of what they worshipped has stuck with me, it's This you feel.'

'Is it This that makes us affect each other so much?' it was only at this point that she looked at him. She had to admit, he was perceptive. The question bothered him, he had long ago learned to control his instincts and it had been a very difficult and painful process, he didn't want to lose that skill, especially now when danger lurked on all sides. Even for the petite, seemingly defenceless girl sitting in front of him, who, he felt, was keeping him on a very short leash at the moment. He couldn't stop thinking about her and caught himself almost unconsciously seeking her presence.

'That's what it seems to me. This being, it was probably a hunting idea, a predator spirit, or something similar. I think its nature is quite similar to that of a wolf, but... Reigning it in was never that difficult...' she croaked, almost in shame. 'I think it might be about the strength of your bloodline, very powerful werewolves have always come from your family.'

'You clearly feel bad about it, is it dangerous?' he was watching her carefully and she was sure he was listening to her heart, checking that she wasn't lying to him.

'In this form... I think not. The flame burns brightly, but it also burns out quickly. This kind of excitement is definitely safer than anger,' she smiled crookedly, wanting to defuse the tension. 'So try not to get on my nerves.'

'So I must keep the dreaded witch happy?' he raised one corner of his mouth in a smile. 'I think I can take on this task...'

24th January 2011 - Monday

Before dawn she woke with a scream, snapping Derek out of his sleep as well. It took him a moment before he realised that no one was skinning her, but that she'd just had a nightmare. When she finally managed to catch her breath, he brought her some hot tea, his mother always said it always soothes shattered nerves the best. Deep down she was grateful to the circumstances, for the company of someone more than just a dog and cats, who, by the way, had given up accompanying their mistress when she had a werewolf with her. The soothing touch of human hands produced far better results than Isle's concerned gaze, or Behemoth and Astra's purrs.

However, she couldn't explain to the man what had actually caused her to panic; she couldn't remember a minute of her dream, though she was convinced that the heavy smell of blood hung in the air and a shrill, pain-filled scream still echoed in her ears. For a brief moment, she considered whether it might have been a better idea to stay at home, but the realisation that she would be alone forced her to pull herself together and get ready for work. The two of them had a few things to do, after all, a new week was starting, and they hadn't moved their investigation forward an inch all weekend.

As she stopped the car behind the school, in the teachers' car park, she froze behind the wheel, staring with shocked eyes at the sight before her. One of the school's yellow buses was covered in blood, the doors were broken, and a whole lot of police officers were circling the scene. She slowly got out of her Chevelle and jumped up terrified when Sharon greeted her.

'I'm betting the date was a repeat after all?' she struck up a conversation, clearly wanting to distract her from the carnage.

'Yeah... I took your advice and chained him to the radiator this time...' choked out Charlotte trying to make a joke while blushing at the thought of being so easily seen through. 'What... what happened here?'

'I have no idea, to be honest. Some say wild animal, others say murder, but no body has been found yet, not half of it...'

'With all due respect, Sharon, but your sense of humour is beyond me... Even this morning...' summed up her friend the witch when they finally managed to enter the staff room.

'So let's change the subject to something more pleasant... Tell me about Him...'

'There's really nothing to talk about... ' muttered the redhead, desperately searching in her head for some way to change the subject, but absolutely nothing came to mind.

The first lesson the boys had that day was chemistry, taught by Adrian Harris. Scott wriggled restlessly in his chair, clearly something was bothering him.

'Maybe it was my blood on the door?' he suggested to his friend sitting next to him.

'Could be animal blood' downplayed Stiles. 'Like maybe you caught a rabbit or something?'

'And did what?'

'I don't know. Ate it' stated Stiles, shrugging his shoulders.

'Raw?' quipped Scott, disgusted, he usually preferred meat in well-baked form.

'No, you stopped to bake it in a little werewolf oven,' chuckled Stiles irritably. 'How should I know? You're the one who can't remember anything.'

'Mr Stilinski!' the teacher at the front of the class raised his voice. 'if that's your idea of a hushed whisper you might want to pull the earphones out once in a while. I think you and Mr. McCall would benefit from a little distance. Yes?'

'No... ' quietly objected the boy.

The teacher took no notice of the teenager's protest and pointed with his finger for his friends to sit down.

'Let me know if the separation anxiety gets to be too much,' he concluded sarcastically once they were seated on opposite sides of the room, eliciting quiet snorts from several students.

Scott sat down next to the black-haired and dark skinned Harley, right in front of Jackson who was watching him from under his eyebrows. The girl threw the black-haired boy a pitying glance and shifted her attention to the teacher. The werewolf, however, still felt someone's gaze on him. He realised who was watching him and became a little concerned, stiffening his back.

'Hey look! They found something!' suddenly exclaimed Harley, breaking away from her desk and walking over to the window facing the school bus car park. For a moment Harris tried to calm the students down, but gave up, seeing that the whole class had already caught up to the window sills. So he himself also walked up to the glass panel and looked out. 'They found a body,' the girl announced, almost proud of herself for being the first to notice what was happening.

'That's not a rabbit...' whispered a horrified Scott.

Meanwhile, outside, several nurses were pushing a wheeled stretcher in front of them to place them in the ambulance. Before they reached it, however, the body they were carrying rose abruptly to a sitting position and began to howl incoherently. The students jumped away from the window, terrified.

'This is good. He's not dead' tried to comfort his friend Stiles. 'A dead guy can't do that...'

'Stiles... I did that...' whispered the black-haired one. Some sort of strange lump began to grow in his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

The boys had somehow managed to make it to the lunch break and were just heading for their table, trays in hand.

'Dreams aren't memories,' Stiles tried to insist.

'Then it wasn't a dream. Something happened last night. And I can't remember what' Scott still couldn't calm down, troubled by remorse. They sat opposite each other, arguing in hushed voices.

'How are you so sure Derek has all the answers?' irritated Stiles, still not trusting the grim werewolf.

'Because on the full moon he wasn't changed' whispered the black-haired boy. 'He was in total control/ And I'm running around in the night attacking some totally innocent guy.'

'You don't know that.'

'I don't not know it. I can't go out with Allison. I have to cancel' the teenager was clearly distressed, but his friend at this point had lost track of whether it was about injuring the bus driver or cancelling the meeting with the girl.

'No, you don't. You can't cancel your entire life. We'll figure this out,' Stiles reassured him. 'And if not, we'll go to Mrs Benoit, maybe she'll know something.

At that moment a smiling girl with reddish-blonde hair arrived at their table. Her dress, as usual, was the latest fashion statement, and her make-up and hairstyle were impeccable.

'She'll know about what?' She asked, resting her arms on the table top.

'Uh... About homework,' the werewolf came up with on the spot, stammering slightly, surprised by the school star's devoted attention to them.

'Why is she sitting with us?' whispered Stiles to his friend, leaning over the table so Lydia couldn't hear him. Meanwhile, more of the people the girl usually stuck with, including Allison, taking a seat next to Scott, had joined their table.

Jackson also approached them, telling one of the guys, Brian, who was also on the lacrosse team, to make way.

'How come you never ask Danny to get up?' asked the kid with disbelief and mild indignation. However, he started to pick himself up.

'Because I don't stare at his girlfriend coin slot' countered, Danny Mahealani, a well-built boy with a beauty that clearly showed his Hawaiian roots. 'So they're saying it'a an animal attack' he changed the subject immediately. ' Probably a cougar.'

'I heard mountain lion' corrected Jackson.

A cougar is a mountain lion,' Lydia corrected automatically, then bit her tongue and added in an innocent voice, higher than before. 'Isn't it?'

'Who cares?' her boyfriend gave her a disbelieving look. 'The guy's probably some homeless tweaker who's gonna' die anyway.'

'Actually, I just found out who he is,' Stiles interjected, drawing attention to himself and pointing to his phone, which displayed a brief recording of the morning news. 'Check this out.'

'While the sheriff would not give any details, he confirmed that the victim, Garrison Meyers, survived the attack. He was taken to hospital in critical condition.'

'I know that guy,' Scott realised, the situation starting to overwhelm him more and more. 'I used to take the bus back when I lived at my Dad's place. He was the driver.'

Stiles stared at his friend, disbelievingly. Lydia, visibly bored, demanded:

'Can we talk about something slightly more fun, please? Like where we're going tomorrow night?' she directed the question to Allison and Scott, who threw her puzzled glances. 'You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow, right?'

'We were thinking of...' stammered the dark-haired girl, not expecting this turn of events. 'What were we going to do?'

'We hadn't decided.' answered teen werewolf.

'Well, I'm not sitting at home watching lacrosse videos again. If the four of us are hanging out let's pick something fun.'

'Hanging out? The four of us?' puzzled Scott, unable to find the words. He looked in disbelief at his girlfriend, who was drinking the water greedily, not knowing how to react to her friend's words. Stiles shook his head vehemently, letting his mate know that he shouldn't agree to this.

'When the hell were you going to tell me about this?' asked Jackson with anger in his voice.

"You want to hand out? The four of us? You and me? And them?' Scott was dibelieving when asking his girlfriend.

'Sure ' Allison squecked, then pulled herself together and added in a more confident voice. 'Sounds fun.'

'You know what else sounds fun?' interjected Jackson aggressively, grabbing a fork lying on his tray and pointing to it. - Stabbing myself in the face with this fork' Lydia cradled his hand, laughing.

'Oh, come on, Jackson. How about bowling? You love to bowl,' she suggested to her boyfriend.

'Yeah, but with actual competition.'' crowed the team captain.

'How do you know we're not competition?' barraged Allison, taking up the challenge. 'You can bowl,right?' She asked Scott, with a broad smile.

'Sort of...'

'Sort of? Or yes?' inquired Jackson.

'Yes. In fact...' starting Scott.

Meantime Stiles just buried his head in his hands.

After lessons, Charlotte took Isle to the vet for a check-up and bandage removal. In the waiting room she bumped into the sheriff, who had brought one of the police dogs for similar reasons that she had visited the clinic herself.

When Noah entered the treatment room he left the door open, through which she managed to spot the vet and his assistant.

'Staying out of trouble, Scott?' rattled Stiles' father. When the boy answered him and the dog was already seated on the table, the sheriff turned to the vet. 'While I'm here, could you take a look at these pictures? Sacramento can't seem to determine the animal.'

'I'm not axactly an axpert...,' Dr Deaton stated, but he took an envelope from the man and looked through its contents. 'Huh. Interesting. This guy was attacked in a bus?' his face was focused but expressed no emotion.

'We did find wolf hairs on Laura Hale's body' the sheriff suggested to the vet, wanting to give him a clue as to what animal they suspected of attacking the bus driver.

'A wolf?' evaporated Scott, hitherto silent in the corner of the room, distracting the sheriff from the vet, who squirmed at the mention of the girl, which puzzled Charlotte slightly, still watching them from the waiting room. 'I mean... I think I read somewhere that there haven't been wolves in California in like sixty years' the teenager explained.

'Wolves are migratory animals,' the witch decided to interject as she entered the treatment room. She left Isle in the waiting room, not wanting to upset her with the presence of the police dog, which lay patiently on the metal table. 'They could have come from another state driven by hunger, instinct or a strong enought memory.'

'Wolves have memories?' the teenager was surprised.

'Longer term memories, yes' admitted the vet, focusing his gaze on Charlotte. 'If associated with a primal drive.' Deaton shifted his gaze to the sheriff, pointing to the photograph, still held in his hands. 'See this one here. Those are claw marks. A wolf would've gone for the throat or the spinal cord with its teeth.'

'So probably a mountain lion?' Asked the witch, pretending to know less than she actually did. The vet, although sympathetic, did not inspire her confidence, there was something wrong with him. He accepted everything without flinching, with the utmost calmness, as if he were a zen master.

'I don't know. A wolf could chase down its prey and hobble it, tearing at the ankles' the black man added, causing concern in the teenager accompanying them, 'and then it bites its throat.'

With that, the rally over Meyers' photos ended, Charlie returned to the waiting room and the vet took care of the police dog. When the sheriff came out, Scott realised that Isle, was the exact same dog he had helped a few weeks ago and the witch finally found out what had actually happened to her familiar. Allison Argent tripped the poor animal, but luckily, the girl managed to catch Isle and bring her to the clinic.

After dropping Isle off at home, she drove to the reserve where Derek spent his days. He insisted that everything was concentrated in that very place and they were sure to find something there. They didn't manage to discover much, however, because they were constantly interrupted by someone.

The first was a policeman, who was supposed to check if anyone was hanging around. The witch was briefly frightened that they would be discovered, but her companion managed to upset the police dog sitting in the car so that the officer very quickly lost his nerve and did not even enter the crumbling building.

Immediately afterwards, however, Scott appeared, which stressed the witch even more. She was afraid that when the boy found out, about her acquaintance with the older werewolf, he would lose trust in her and be as hostile as he was towards Derek. Strangely enough, however, the teenager was probably too nervous to sense her presence, and her companion came out to meet the boy without letting him in. So the witch sat quietly on the other side of the door and listened to the conversation between the two werewolves, repeating formulas in her mind to hide her presence from the senses of the other creatures. However, she had no idea if they would also work on the sensitive werewolves.

'I know I was part of you getting arrested. And that we basically announced you being here to the hunters.' there was remorse in Scott's voice.'And I also don't know what happened with your sister... But I think I did something last night.' the older man's silence did not help the boy put his thoughts into words, but he walked bravely towards his goal. 'I had this dream about... someone. But someone else got hurt. And it turns out that part of the dream might have actually happened.'

'You think you attacked the Driver' Derek wanted to make sure he understood the boy correctly.

'How do you know everything? Are you constantly keeping an eye on me? Did you see what I did last night?' terrified Scott, looking for confirmation of his fears in the man's question.

'No,' replied the older werewolf, changing neither his tone nor his expression.

'Then can you at least tell me the truth? Am I going to hurt someone?'

'Yes.'

'Could I kill someone?

'Yes' the answers were automatic, the certainty in Derek's voice as heavy as an anvil

'Am I going to kill someone?' there was panic in the teenager's voice.

'Probably.'

Scott leaned heavily against one of the porch pillars, devoid of any residual hope. Derek approached him, with his hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket.

'I can show you how to remember. How to control the shift. Even on a full moon. But it's not going to come for free.'

'What do you want?' Asked the teenager, but in his hushed voice you could feel that he was already all alone.

'You will find out. But for now, I'll give you what you want. Go back to the bus. Go inside. See it, feel it. Let your senses - sight, smell, touch - let them remember for you.'

'That's it? Just go back?' Scott was surprised that the task seemed so simple.

'You want to remember what happened?'

'I just want to know if I hurt him.'

'No' the man denied. 'You want to know if you'll hurt her.'

Scott walked away, almost immediately contacting his friend.

25th January 2011 - Tuesday

When the redhead came home after work that day, she spent almost half an hour wondering if what she was about to do was definitely a good idea. She pulled out of her handbag a small string bag with a piece of bloody cloth inside. She had managed to find it the previous day at the crime scene and had taken it with her when no one was looking. She doubted it was any significant hindrance to the investigation and she would be able to find out quite a lot through it.

Between the removal boxes she found an oblong tube from which she pulled out a couple of sizable posters, browsed through them vaguely, selecting the one she just needed, then pulled back all the curtains in the living room. She didn't need the hassle of neighbours accusing her of satanic rituals and all the bad things that were starting to happen to them. All that was definitely missing from Beacon Hills were burning pyres and the ranks of the Inquisition to make her feel at home. She spread out a pentacle drawn on a poster on the floor with symbols that were perfectly familiar to her. In the middle of it she arranged a mirror and on top of it a bloody cloth. She lit candles of the appropriate colours in the arms of the five-pointed star and stood between the drawn lines, gazing into the mirror. She began to silently recite the formulas engraved in her memory, concentrating on the image reflected in the silver sheet where the blood and fabric met its surface.

After a few moments of stillness, as her senses became more and more detached from the environment she was currently in, something moved in the mirror. She caught sight of the interior of a yellow bus, two rows of dark padded seats and a rubberised floor. Her eyes were anchored on Mr Meyers' eyes, full of terror and pain. When his face disappeared from her field of vision, pulled back somewhere, she immediately squeezed herself between the seats. The visions were so realistic that she almost lost her life in them several times, even though they were not real at the present time. She cautiously stuck her head out from behind the seats, just enough to see who the assailant was, lurking at the back of the vehicle, but she saw no person, it was a huge, black, animalised shape, almost the size of a bear, albeit with disturbingly human-like features. She froze as Alpha's terrifying, crazed, blood-red eyes pinned her to where she was cowering. She was only snapped out of her panicky immobility by a familiar voice that made her turn her head towards the front of the bus, although the fact that the monster was behind her made it seem like the stupidest idea ever. And yet, there was a transfigured Scott standing by the driver's seat, clearly intent on saving the injured man. He threw himself forward, attacking the creature, but huge claws tore the skin on its chest, knocking it back in the direction it had come from. Alpha snatched one of the back seats and threw it towards them. She squeezed her eyes shut almost painfully, trying to break the trance, terrified that in a moment the couch would crush her body.

Nothing happened, no pain, no noise, yet she could not open her eyes. She felt drops of cold sweat covering her body and convulsions shaking her, but she couldn't do anything, she was out of control and images kept scrolling under her eyelids. She wondered if this was how victims of an epilepsy attack felt, completely incapable of any movement, yet feeling every violent thump on the floor. She decided that if she came out of it, she would redouble her efforts in trying to befriend Erica Reyes.

She felt a heavy hand on her shoulder and heard a terrified, pain-filled howl come from her throat. When she realised that she could already control her body, she struggled to close her mouth, interrupting the sound coming out of it, and raised her eyelids.

'Hey, it's me... Easy... ' she heard a familiar voice and felt strong arms engulf her in an embrace. She clung to the man like a last resort as tears dripped from her eyes. A scream froze on her lips, but she still had trouble breathing normally. A hand moving up and down her spine helped, but was clearly insufficient.

Still not seeing much, as if through a haze of tears, she slipped out of the comforting embrace and walked to the kitchen where she washed her face with cold water, calming herself down. An attack of hysteria was definitely not what she needed right now.

Derek measured her with a careful gaze, concerned. If what he had just seen was a normal emanation of witchcraft, he was not surprised that he had never met any witch, few people would consciously choose to do what had happened to Charlotte. When he entered the house he was horrified by the silence inside. Isle had stayed outside, clearly having no desire to enter the house, and the two cats, who had so far avoided him by a wide margin, had tangled under his feet and disappeared into the darkness of the falling night. There was a heavy tension in the air, and strange sparks danced across his skin, the hair covering his forearms standing on ends. And when he entered the living room and saw the witch's silhouette stretched out on a pentagram painted on the floor, his heart stopped in his throat. He was convinced that the girl was dead until her body began to shiver. He did not know by what miracle he had managed to revive her and preferred not to repeat the experience, ever.

'I need to get out of the house, think about something else' she directed an almost pleading gaze at the man.

'Sure, come on, let's go for a drive around town,' he replied, seeing that the woman was definitely still not feeling well, although she was trying to put on a good face.

He didn't know how he was supposed to feel about him helping her assemble the tools of magical rituals, the only magic he had encountered so far was mostly supernatural abilities of his kind and a few druids, but those were very mysterious and definitely preferred not to show their abilities. Pentagrams and trances were definitely something new.

They also pulled up at a petrol station during their ride around town, when Charlotte realised that Beacon Hills wasn't as small as she'd thought it was. The witch had already gotten a little hungry and the Camaro needed refuelling. As she exited the shop, located at the station, she froze, watching the scene unfold before her.

Her companion's car was flanked on two sides by large SUVs from which three men got out, in one of which she recognised Chris Argent, and although the man was handsome and under other circumstances his smile might have come across as charming, now there was an expression on his face that she could only identify as cruelty, confirmed by his subsequent actions.

'Nice ride,' he said to Derek, walking up to the Camaro and running his finger over its bonnet. 'Black cars, though. Very hard to keep clean. YI would definitely suggest a little more maintenance. If you have something this nice, you want to take care of it, right?' He reached for a car window cleaning brush and used it on the windscreen of the werewolf car. 'Personally, I'm very protective of the things I love. But that's something I learned from my family. And you don't have much of that these days, do you?'

Charlotte watched, tense. Derek had remained utterly calm until now, his face expressing absolutely nothing, but the mention of family made the air solidify. The tension could be cut with a knife. She moved towards them with a confident step, furious. She saw that her lover clenched his fists, trying to control his anger. She couldn't let his nerves go. She had not yet had time to approach them when, in a completely inexplicable way, Derek calmed down, relaxing. Hunter watched him carefully and smiled with satisfaction.

'There we go. You can actually look through the windshield now. See how that makes everything so much clearer?' Argent announced and turned to walk back to his cherry SUV.

'You forgot to check the oil,' countered Derek, with a certain butthurt in his voice, when Charlotte finally reached him and stood next to him. Chris turned at these words, measured them both with his eyes and directed his words to the other hunters.

'Check the man's oil.'

One of the men behind the pair walked up to the driver's side door and smashed the side window with the butt of his rifle. The witch recoiled at this behaviour and voiced her indignation loudly, but Derek grabbed her arm, clamping his hand on it a little too tightly.

'Looks good to me' said the one who had attacked the car.

'Drive safely,' Argent concluded and nodded towards Charlotte, she wondered if he realised she was his daughter's teacher.

As the Hunters drove off and the pair got into the damaged car, the woman was shaking all over. The Argent's behaviour had been so unfair that it made her furious, and she felt the air around her grow thicker and the hairs on the back of her neck rise. Derek was looking at her, and although his face seemed carved from stone, she could see unspoken questions and possibly some concern in his eyes.

'It's all right... ' she forced herself to reassure him. 'I'm just having a bit of trouble controlling my anger.'

'Remind me never to get under your skin, you're terrifying in this state...' he smiled crookedly, clearly wanting to turn everything into a joke, but his tone was too serious.

'The first night, this state seemed to make you feel differently,' she replied, raising one eyebrow significantly and winking at him, relieving the tension. It was becoming easier and easier for her to pretend that there was less crudeness in her than there actually was.

They drove on, Derek plucking up the courage after a few minutes to tell her that he wanted to go to the hospital and confront Mr Meyers, to perhaps find out who the attacker really was. Witch stayed in the car and waited for him. He came back heavily agitated, although he tried not to let it show. He did not go into the house with her and when she got out of the car, he drove away without telling her if he would return at all.

Melissa came home after being on call all day, tired and discouraged. She went into her son's room to say goodnight to him, but the room was empty. Disgruntled, she turned to leave, but her attention was caught by a sound coming from Scott's room. So she stepped back cautiously, grabbed a baseball bat leaning against the wall and slipped into the room, aiming the bat at a dark silhouette she spotted in the light of a street lamp.

She managed to brake her swing just inches from her target, which turned out to be Stiles' freckle-covered face.

They both began to squeal, like frightened little girls, startled by their sight.

'Stiles! What the hell are you doing?'

'Waht am I doing?' the teenager was indignant. - Do either of you even play baseball?' He asked, pointing to the bat that the woman was still clenching in her fist.

Suddenly the light in the room came on and Scott stood in the doorway.

'Can you please tell your friend to use the front door?' sighed Melissa, turning to her son.

'But we lock the front door. He wouldn't be able to get in.'

'Exactly. And, by the way, do either of you care that there's a police enforced curfew?' She measured the two teenagers with tired eyes.

'No.'

'Okay then. That's about all the parenting I can take for one night' she announced, wringing her hands. 'I'm going to sleep' she threw the bat on Scott's bed and turned on her leg, leaving the room.

The black-haired boy laughed quietly, saying goodbye to his mum. He was pleased after a successful date, but his face hardened as he looked into his friend's saddened face.

'My Dad left for the hospital fifteen minutes ago. The Bus Driver.' Stiles began. 'They said he succumbed to his wounds.'

'Succumbed?' The werewolf didn't seem to understand.

'Scott... he's dead,' the husky boy specified. Watching the emotions on his friend's face change like a kaleidoscope.

Not even a minute had passed when Scott ran out of the house, leaving his friend behind. He was furious. All the memories he had managed to retrieve the night before came back to him. All the images of the red-eyed monster attacking Mr Meyers and him having no chance to help.

The teenager didn't even stop, at the sight of a house emerging from the darkness, with the shadows of trees creeping across it. He rushed inside and looked around carefully, searching for any sign of the elderly werewolf.

'Derek! I know you're here!' he shouted. 'I know what you did!'

'I didn't do anything' a man's voice echoed through the house. The teenager couldn't pin down the source of it, shifting his eyes nervously over the remains of the walls and stairs.

'You killed him!' Scott climbed the first step, listening.

'He die' came the reply, completely devoid of emotion.

'Like your sister died?' the boy was in disbelief.

'My sister was missing. I came here to find her.'

'You found her...'

'I find her in pieces!' the voice grew louder, filled with anger. 'Being used as bait to catch me.'

'I think you killed them both' Scott concluded, confident. 'And I'm going to tell everyone. Statring with the Sheriff...' the boy had already reached the top of the stairs, still looking carefully around, searching for the source of the impersonal voice echoing off the walls of the ruin.

Suddenly, a shadow loomed up behind his back, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him down the stairs. Before the teenager landed at the foot of them, he had time to transform, his eyes glowed gold, the skin at the confluence of his eyebrows wrinkled and his teeth grew into fangs. He turned to face his opponent and growled ominously. He rose quickly enough so that Derek, who had just jumped down from the very top of the stairs, could not step on him. The man reached the teenager, but the boy grabbed him by the halves of his jacket and threw him against the nearest wall, knocking it down. The older man's body landed on the floor in the next room.

Derek shook himself off, rising to his feet and shaking off the dust and splinters.

'Lovely,' he muttered to himself, taking off his favourite leather jacket and tossing it aside to keep it intact. He shot circles around his neck, transforming as his opponent did. His eyes flashed an electrifying blue, but only for a blink, only to revert back to their human grey-green hue. Scott didn't notice this. He was distracted by the growl emanating from the maw of the older werewolf, who looked decidedly more fearsome than the teen was. He was larger and there was less of the human in his appearance, though he was far from the monster Scott had seen in his memories.

The teenager lunged at his enemy but was thrown against a wall, which this time did not crumble under the impact. He tried to get up, but his opponent was much stronger than he was. It wasn't until the man stepped back, clearly giving him time, that Scott pulled himself up on the table next to him, but before his legs could support all his weight, Derek leapt onto the table, his hip running over the tabletop and his legs slamming straight into the teenager's chest, knocking him back a few metres.

He grabbed the first thing that came his way, a piece of solid board, and rammed into his opponent, sending him to the floor. Unfortunately, the man rose just as quickly, in the process undercutting the young werewolf's legs and knocking him over. He immediately seized the opportunity, grabbed him by the exposed throat with his paw and pinned him to the floor, driving his claws into his neck. The pain caused the boy to revert to his human form, panting heavily. Derek let go of him immediately, stepping back, and a roar came from his throat, shaking the house to its very foundations. Scott clenched his eyelids, ready for a death that didn't come. He lifted one eye only to see that his opponent was panting heavily, trying to contain his animal lust for murder, but he already looked human, much less frightening.

'I didn't kill them. Neither of us did. It's not your fault and it's not mine,' the man announced, measuring Scott with his eyes.

'This... this is all your fault.' shouted the teenager. 'You ruined my life!'

'No, I didn't' denied Derek.

'You're the one who bit me.'

'It's not him, Scott' a female voice unexpectedly spoke up, behind his back. They both turned to see a short figure with flowing dark chestnut hair standing in the doorway, glinting in the headlights of the car parked outside.

'What?' the teenager didn't understand what was happening around him. Charlotte did not answer him, but shifted her gaze to the older man expectantly.

'I'm not the one who bit you' Derek confirmed her words.

Scott backed away from him, his hand moving over the wounds on his neck that had already started to heal. He looked at his fingers, still covered in blood, and it seemed as if some memory had hit him with the force of a sledgehammer. He slumped down on the couch behind him and was panting heavily. The teacher reached over to him, to see if he was okay, but the boy stepped back, lifting his head and looking at both adults who seemed to know more than he did.

'There's another.' - he whispered, realising the truth.

'It's called an Alpha' the witch specified, at exactly the same time as Derek, speaking:

'The most dangerous of our kind. You and I, we're Betas' he explained the basics, which the teacher thought the boy should already know, as his friend certainly knew it. This thing... It's more powerful, more animal than either of us. My sister came here looking for him, trying to stop him. Now I'm trying to find him. And I don't think I can do it without you.'

'Why me?' Scott asked, still not understanding, looking at the teacher instead of the other werewolf, but she remained silent, so it was Derek who answered.

'Because he turned you. You're part of his pack. It's you, Scott. You're the one he wants.'

'And what are you actually doing here? Who exactly is he?' Scott asked his teacher.

Charlotte stood up, not knowing how much she could tell the boy. She feared that by appearing here that night, in a bid to prevent bloodshed, she had completely lost his trust. But she couldn't deny the desperate plea of Stiles, who had turned up at her door less than half an hour earlier, asking her to save his friend.

'I came so you wouldn't kill each other, your friend asked me for help,' she replied truthfully.

'But why did you come to Beacon in the first place?' he asked, giving her an angry look. 'Did you come together?'

'No' she answered, also truthfully. 'I came because I found out about Alpha. He's dangerous and my job is to protect people who don't know anything about this part of reality. I am a kind of guardian,' she explained to the boy, choosing her words carefully.

'And you know about me and him,' he pointed to Derek, to which Charlotte nodded. 'Then who is Alpha?'

'I have no idea,' the witch admitted sadly.

26th January 2011 - Wednesday

On this day she came to work dressed differently than usual. Her clothes were still black, but instead of jeans and a t-shirt, she was wearing an elegant black knee-length dress and high-heeled shoes. The students looked at her curiously, but none dared to ask what the sudden change was due to. None, apart from Stiles, who approached her during one of the breaks.

'Are you going to the funeral?' He asked, in a laughing voice, but after a moment the smile let go of his face as she nodded in confirmation. 'Ahm... sorry... And whose... Is it Mr Meyers?'

'No, Mr Meyers is due to be buried on Friday, today is Laura Hale's funeral, as I'm sure you're well aware,' she measured the student investigatively. 'And I hope you're not going to it. I'd really prefer you to live. You've gotten under her brother's skin enough already. Let's make arrangements for me to be the delegation of our little team of adventurers, shall we?'

The boy searched for words for a moment, but apparently decided that the woman was right, because he merely nodded and moved away, with his head hanging, joining his friend. The witch waved at Scott, who was still unable to smile at her, then left the building and got into her car, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm her galloping heart.

She wasn't sure if Derek had wanted her to attend the funeral at all, though she suspected that if he had minded, he wouldn't have mentioned it to her at all. She wasn't sure what he expected her to do, but she knew her students well enough by now to know that even if they didn't object to her request outright, they would still find some way to spy on her. Therefore, throughout the ceremony, which only a few people attended, she did not get any closer to Derek than the traditional expressions of sympathy would have required. She observed her surroundings carefully. The sheriff and Officer Harris had attended the funeral, although she suspected it had been more of a service duty, the vet, Dr Deaton, who, however, had not approached the deceased's brother, and several people who might have known the girl from school when she still lived in Beacon Hills. In addition to them and the master of ceremonies, the undertaker with his son, one of Charlie's pupils, was also in the cemetery. They waited at a suitable distance so that they could complete their duties.

Charlotte was very keen to support the werewolf's spirits, although judging by his attitude, he would not have wished it. Therefore, to draw her thoughts away from the man, she carefully mirrored the newcomers. Her attention, however, kept returning to the tall, slim, blonde-haired boy with a stooped figure. He always seemed very quiet and withdrawn at school. She was convinced that, despite being part of the school lacrosse team, he didn't have many acquaintances, let alone friends. He avoided the gaze of interlocutors and never volunteered answers himself, although his grades were quite tolerable. It was hard for her to judge from the rather large distance between them, but there seemed to be a bruise on the kid's jaw.

She wrinkled her nose and squinted, looking at the gravedigger. He was stocky, his face broad, marked with wrinkles, and his eyes obscured by his glasses. His lips tightened into a narrow line, betraying his heavy character. The witch hoped that his fist was not equally heavy. In passing, she noticed that not only was she watching them, but Derek and Officer Harris were also watching father and son with furrowed brows. She regretted that she couldn't ask what had caught the werewolf's attention, but made a mental note to do so when she got home. If her lover decided to spend the evening with her.

A sudden thought struck her. They hadn't talked about it, but for the past few days the werewolf had practically moved in with her. She shuddered until it came to her. She had never shared a house with anyone other than Luise, leaving aside her own parents, of course. She had never been close enough to anyone to spend nights in the same bed and to wake up next to each other. She had never been physically involved with anyone without months of dates and emotional commitment preceding it.

She frantically tried to analyse her feelings, almost panicking. However, she mastered herself quickly. The cemetery was definitely not the place for such considerations. She hadn't come to Beacon Hills to find herself someone, she hadn't yet healed from a previous love disappointment. What was between them had to be caused only by Darkness and a mutual physical attraction, she convinced herself.

When the ceremony was over, she quickly jumped into her car and drove away. She had no reason to stay any longer; in addition, it had started to rain. As she drove away, she saw in the rear-view mirror that her werewolf had stayed behind, watching the coffin containing his sister's body being lowered into the grave. She felt a heart-piercing twinge and remorse. She should have been there for him, if only for the sake of the friendship they had begun to forge. Even if she tried to banish thoughts of any other feelings the man might have had for her. She should have stayed because Laura died because she, Charlie, was late. She had arrived too late and could no longer help the girl. She could have helped her brother instead.

Derek did not show up in her living room until after dark, as usual unexpectedly, walking in front of the garden door as if it was his home. He sat heavily in one of the armchairs and was silent, with his head tilted back against the backrest. Charlotte didn't break the silence, merely slipped a mug of tea into his large hands and retreated to the far corner of the room, continuing to unpack one of the last of the moving boxes her cousin had sent her.

After an hour, when she could no longer bear the silence, she raised her eyes to the man and spoke:

'I noticed that you were carefully watching someone in the cemetery.'

'The older of the gravedigger's sons was a friend of mine in high school,' he explained to her. 'He was a soldier, killed on some mission, probably in Afghanistan. It seems to me that his father has not changed much since then' his tone was quite enigmatic, which seriously puzzled the witch, but she did not comment on this statement.

She moved over to him, sitting down on the floor, right next to his legs, as was Isle's usual habit, who just now had wandered off somewhere, probably sensing that the werewolf preferred to be alone. It was possible that the witch should take a cue from her dog and leave the man alone, but she decided to take a chance.

'I'd ask if you're all right, but the answer is obvious...' She put her hand on his knee, trying to make eye contact. 'Maybe... Would you like to tell me about her... ' she sent a wave of calm through her touch, wanting to ease his grief. Only this elicited a reaction from him. He moved his leg violently, knocking her hand off his knee.

'Stop it!' he growled, startling the witch, few people were able to realise that she was trying to manipulate their emotions. 'Don't charm me,' he added a little more calmly, seeing the fear in her eyes.

' I'm sorry... I... I wanted to help...' she stammered moving away, but he stopped her by grabbing her arm.

'I know... But don't do it' he pulled her a little harder towards him, lifting her off the floor and pulling her into his lap. Instinctively she curled her legs up, curling into a ball, and he put his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. After a moment, his lips found her neck. He didn't want to talk, so she helped him find a moment of oblivion.

27th January 2011 - Thursday

Stiles walked into the locker room after lacrosse practice, looking around carefully. He was looking for one very specific person and this time, surprisingly, it wasn't his friend. When he finally found with his eyes a slim silhouette at the end of a row of lockers he ran up to the boy and tapped him on the shoulder.

'Hey, Lahey,' he greeted, his face lit up with a smile that was definitely not sincere. 'You work with your father at the cemetery, don't you?'

'Yeah...' replied the boy uncertainly, measuring the interlocutor with his blue eyes. Probably if he'd straightened up, he could have been taller than Stiles, but he just squared his shoulders more and turned his face back to his locker.

'There was a funeral yesterday, that quartered girl in the woods, wasn't there?' droned the sheriff's son.

'And? There's a funeral today too... So what?' the boy avoided his colleague's gaze by changing his clothes.

'At the one yesterday, there was Mrs Benoit, the history teacher, you have a class with her too, right?'

'Yes, she's the young redhead' the undertaker's son lost patience, looking at the annoying boy again.

'Tell me... Was she there with anyone? Maybe she was standing by immediate family?'

The blue-eyed man mused for a moment, then shook his head.

'If you must know, no, she was all alone, she was standing off to the side and only moved to offer her condolences. Why the hell would you ask such things?' he glanced down at the spaz from top to bottom. 'Even if she is free, I doubt you have any chance with her... Not just because of the age difference...' laughed at Stiles to get rid of him at last. He slammed his locker shut and walked out of the locker room, leaving the other teenager stunned.

After a moment, the cockney's brow furrowed and he laughed to himself. He moved to the second row of lockers where his friend, the werewolf, was waiting for him and announced.

'Well you see, she was actually just doing a delegation. And you know... If my suspicions are true, then even Derek is far too young for her...'

'What' Scott must have been thinking about something else, because he didn't catch the point of his mate's statement.

''I'm saying she confessed to be a Witch, and Derek referred to her as a Witch. Her name is repeated on all the more sensible articles I could find, and some are from the 1970s! What is the likelihood of women not changing their names after marriage and naming their daughters after themselves?'

The young werewolf looked at Stiles, slowly beginning to understand what the boy might mean. He could almost hear the cogs turning in his brain.

'Meaning what...'

'That is, that our teacher is holding up well for her age.'

'Well she definitely doesn't look like she can graduate from college and be able to teach in high school...'

'That could be taken care of by a good anti-wrinkle cream. I'd rather bet on her being a hundred years old!' Stiles rubbed his hands together at the thought of another mystery to solve. A mystery that ordinary detectives could only dream of.