I do not own teen wolf. I only own Celeste. If I did ARDEN CHO DESERVED BETTER.

Song – Throw Down Your Guns // Wild Belle

Celeste's POV

"Operation save my friend from being killed by my other friends is a go."

Celeste was muttering nervously to herself as Allison, Stiles, and Scott gently hurdled her into an empty classroom.

"Derek's outside waiting for Lydia," Scott spoke up obviously as he shut the door behind him.

"Waiting to kill her?" Allison asked, with the air of someone who already knew the answer and wanted it to be false.

"If he thinks she's the kanima," Scott shrugged, "then yes. Especially after what happened at the pool."

"It's not her," Celeste insisted.

She was well aware of all the logic that spoke of a truth that opposed her claim, but when it came to Lydia, loyalty outweighed logic every time.

"She didn't pass the test, Celeste," Scott spoke gently, and if the circumstances had been different, the girl would have laughed at his unintentional rhyme, "nothing happened."

"We also thought Derek was the alpha, and he wasn't" Celeste pointed out desperately, "maybe we need to get a little better at giving people the benefit of the doubt."

"It doesn't matter," Allison sighed, "because Derek thinks it's her, so either we can convince him that he's wrong, or we've got to figure out a way to protect her."

"Well," Scott offered, "I really don't think he'll do anything here, at a school."

"What about after school?" Allison was obviously the thinker in their relationship.

"Derek wouldn't kill a teenage girl," Celeste's head was beginning to ache as she tried to defend all of her friends simultaneously.

"He bit three teenagers with the knowledge that they could die from the bite," Stiles pointed out, most unhelpfully.

"What if we can prove that Derek's wrong?" Allison tried.

"By three o'clock?" Stiles played devil's advocate.

"There could be something in the bestiary," the taller girl shot back.

"Oh," Stiles nodded sardonically, "you mean the 900-page book written in archaic Latin that none of us can read? Good luck with that."

"I think there's enough chaos going on without us fighting amongst ourselves," Celeste spoke softly, grasping Stiles' hand as her vision blurred momentarily.

"I think I know someone who might be able to translate it," Allison conceded.

"I can talk to Derek," Scott offered up with a worried look in Celeste's direction, "maybe convince him to give us a chance to prove that it's not her. Celeste should come with me, though. They all love Celeste."

"Everyone loves Celeste," Stiles snapped, "usually that equals not throwing her into the direct line of fire."

"Stiles," Celeste looked at him meaningfully, "I can handle this."

Protest flickered in the boy's hazel eyes, but he backed off, knowing that she could.

"If anything happens I'll handle it," Scott promised, "that goes for all of you."

"What does that mean?" Allison frowned at her boyfriend's words.

"It means you can't heal like I do," Scott shrugged it off, "I just don't want you getting hurt."

Allison sighed, reaching into her school bag and pulling out a crossbow, presenting it to the teen wolf with her head cocked to the side.

"I can protect myself," Allison spoke obviously.

"I am so attracted to you right now," Celeste whispered, causing Allison to giggle despite their situation.

Scott only grimaced.

"What?" Allison demanded, "Did something else happen?"

"I just don't want you getting hurt," Scott's voice went hoarse in worry, "Seriously, if anything goes wrong, you call me, okay? I don't care if your dad finds out. Call, text, scream, yell, whatever. I'll hear you and I'll find you as fast as I can."

"Scallison lives," Celeste raised a fist into the air.

"We have until three," Scott put them back on track.

However, as he turned to leave, an arrow zipped towards him, threatening to pierce the back of Scott's skull before his werewolf senses kicked in and he caught it just in time.

"Ah, sorry," Stiles muttered sheepishly, handing Allison back the crossbow he had been fiddling with, "it's a sensitive trigger on that."

"Right, new plan," Celeste sighed, "we do everything we can to protect Lydia and Stiles."

☾ ☽

"Boyd," Celeste called, tugging Stiles' flannel closer to her chest, "fancy meeting you here."

She and Scott were currently making their way onto the lacrosse field, where Scott had tracked Derek and his minions to.

"I want to talk to Derek," Scott, quite rudely, skipped over all formalities.

"Talk to me," Boyd called back, striding over to meet the pair.

"I don't want to fight," Scott said, in a tone that suggested he did indeed want to fight.

"Good," Boyd smirked, "because I'm twice the size of you."

Celeste also noted, quite worryingly, that he was three times the size of her.

"True," Scott acknowledged, "really, really true. But, you wanna know what I think? I'm twice as fast."

"Do you want me to get out a ruler?" Celeste huffed, "Or is this conversation actually going somewhere?"

It was at this point that Scott shoved Boyd into the field.

"She failed the test," Derek appeared out of nowhere, as per usual.

"Yeah, which doesn't prove anything," Scott insisted, "Lydia's different."

"I know," Derek was artfully avoiding Celeste's accusing gaze, "and at night she turns into a homicidal walking snake."

"I'm not going to let you kill her," Scott growled out.

"Who said I was gonna do it?" Derek rose a brow tauntingly.

"What if it was me?" Celeste hissed out, making Derek's mossy eyes snap to her icy ones.

"What?" Derek frowned, "It isn't you."

"But you bit me," Celeste countered, "I was bitten too, and it could have very well been me who turned into a giant lizard. Would you kill me?"

"That- that isn't the point," Derek clenched his fists together, "It doesn't even matter, because you aren't. You were in the pool with me."

"It is the point Derek," the girl's gaze was unwavering, "because I think you're jumping to conclusions and sending an innocent girl to slaughter, and there has to be another way, because I know if it was me you would find one."

Behind them, Scott and Boyd had begun to fight again, and Celeste's head felt like someone was pressing an anvil to it.

"Your nose," Derek broke their quarrel, looking at her in concern.

"What?" Celeste snapped, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's bleeding."

Sure enough, Celeste pressed her finger to the skin directly below her nose, and blood smeared against it.

"I don't-," Celeste stuttered, squeezing her eyelids shut rapidly as black dots began to dance across her line of sight, "I don't feel goo-."

With that, she staggered back a few steps and fell into Derek's arms as her consciousness gave out around her.

☾ ☽

Bright lights felt as though they were singing Celeste's retinas as she squinted, sentient thoughts emerging from the bubble of unconsciousness she had been thrust into.

She groaned, her head throbbing as she sat up, taking in her surroundings.

She was currently situated on Deaton's metal exam table, a pacing Stiles muttering profanities in front of her.

"Stiles?" she muttered groggily, the boy's head snapping toward her immediately, "What's happening?"

"Oh thank god," the male breathed out, rushing forward to grab her hand.

"Take it easy," Deaton's soothing voice sounded out as he walked into the room, "You shouldn't exert yourself too quickly."

"You fainted when you were talking to Derek and Scott said to bring you here," Stiles informed her, noticing her confusion, "instead of, you know, a hospital, like a normal human being."

"Celeste is far from being a normal human," Deaton spoke as he began checking over her vitals.

"I thought you were watching Lydia," Celeste panicked, recalling the crisis at hand.

"Scott has it covered," Stiles soothed, rubbing his thumb over her hand, "now, can we get back to the 'far from normal' thing?"

"I've been waiting for the right time to tell you this," Deaton explained once he was sure Celeste's health was in order, "and it seems that you power has reached the key point in which you need to make a conscious effort to develop them."

"Excuse me?" Celeste arched her brow, "The only power I have is being able to eat pizza rolls straight out of the oven without burning my lips."

"Celeste," Deaton smiled, as though he were bestowing a great honor upon the girl, "you're an empath."

"What did you just call her?" Stiles frowned accusingly.

"Have you been feeling emotions that don't seem like your own?" Deaton pressed on, "When your friends feel passionately about something, does it seem like you connect with them passed the point of normal empathy?"

Celeste frowned in thought, her mind flashing to the odd waves of foreign emotion she had experienced and all the times it had seemed as though she physically felt the mental pain of her companions.

"I mean, yeah, I guess so," Celeste's eyes widened, her heart thumping in her chest, "but I'm a human. Totally, 100% human."

Her heart skipped a beat as she thought back upon her encounter with Derek's teeth.

"That's where you're wrong," Deaton shrugged, "you aren't human at all. You never have been."

"Do you mind elaborating?" Stiles was far more confrontational than his female counterpart.

"I've been a guardian and protector of your family for years," the veterinarian explained, "your father was an empath, and he passed the gene down on to you, and I'm assuming your brother."

Celeste felt a pang of grief in her chest as the man brought up her deceased family members, but her mind was racing.

"It's the reason you've been feeling injured whenever you're near conflict with Derek's pack and Scott's," Deaton spoke again, "even if you haven't been hit. They may be against each other, but you've accepted the members of both into your own pack."

"So what?" Celeste scoffed, "I'm basically an emotional punching bag who is too clingy to choose just one side to fight on?"

Stiles tensed as the girl he loved bashed herself, but remained silent.

"Your species was designed as a mediator of sorts," Deaton explained, "You resolve conflict within your pack by essentially forcing all of the members to make amends with each other in order to heal you. That's also why werewolves in general feel an overwhelming sense of protection over you, especially the members of your pack and alphas. By having a common ground in you, packs are able to move past their differences both within themselves and with other packs."

Celeste's identity was beginning to turn upside-down, although she couldn't help but feel a sense of inner-peace as all of her oddities were coming to light and being explained.

"By feeling the emotions of others," Deaton continued, "you are able to fully understand and connect with the members of your pack and help them to work through their problems."

"Oh," Celeste spoke softly, barely able to process all of the information being thrown at her, "so I guess that accounts for the glowing silver eyes and weird poem prophecy things, huh?"

"Excuse me?" Deaton frowned in surprise, though a hint of recognition sparked in his deep brown eyes.

"What is it?" Stiles panicked, "Is something wrong with her?"

"There are many things wrong with me, Stiles," Celeste pointed out with a shrug.

"No, I just- but that's impossible," Deaton began to mutter to himself.

"Oh god," Celeste groaned, "did I somehow manage to mess up being an empath or whatever already?"

The veterinarian unlocked a metal cabinet and began rummaging through the countless leather-bound books inside as Stiles and Celeste glanced at each other nervously.

"Celeste," the older male spoke gravely, "are you absolutely positive your eyes glowed silver?"

"Yeah, I was there," Stiles snapped, "what the hell does that mean?"

"You're supposed to be a myth," Deaton spoke softly, almost as though he didn't want them to hear as he retrieved a book and began flipping through the pages.

"I don't know about you guys," Celeste spoke nervously, "but I'd really like some clarification on, you know, my entire identity."

Deaton found the page he was looking for, pressing the book open on to the table beside Celeste to show them an ornate drawing of a dark-haired woman with glowing silver eyes and a page of scribbled black writing next to it.

"You're the Matrem Luna."

☾ ☽

"We have arrived," Stiles called out, breathing heavily even though they had driven to Scott's house.

Allison, Lydia and Jackson stood in front of the McCall residence with varying levels of annoyance displayed on their beautiful faces.

"Celeste?" Lydia demanded, "You're part of this tragic debacle too?"

The only agreement Celeste could provide her with was an admittedly weak portrayal of jazz hands, her mind still saturated with the life-changing news Deaton had thrown at her.

"Whatever," Lydia huffed out, "If we're studying at Scott's house, then where's Scott?"

"Meeting us here, I think," Stiles blabbered as Celeste began dragging her best friend up the steps, "I hope."

As soon as the five of them had entered the home – courtesy of Stiles' questionably made key – Stiles began taking the necessary precautions.

He locked the regular lock, the door chain, and the deadlock, peeking out of the window curtains nervously.

"Uh," Stiles improvised in response to Lydia's apprehensive look, "there's been a few break-ins around the neighborhood."

They all stood in awkward silence for a moment, before Stiles broke it by leaping for a chair and situating it to act as a barrier underneath the doorknob.

"And a murder," Stiles tried, Celeste and Jackson rolling their eyes in unison, "yeah, it was bad."

Allison nodded at Jackson, who sighed heavily before speaking up.

"Lydia," he grunted, "follow me. I need to talk to you for a minute."

Lydia looked at Celeste for a millisecond in panic, before masking her face with annoyance.

"Seriously?" she huffed out, her heels clicking against the wood floors as the two made their way upstairs, "What is going on with everyone?"

As soon as they were out of sight, Allison whipped out her apparently portable crossbow and Stiles began re-checking the locks and windows.

"Oh dear," Stiles mumbled out, "we have company."

"What?" Allison demanded, she and Celeste rushing forward to see for themselves.

Sure enough, Derek and the baby biker gag were standing across the street from the McCall residence, lined up and glaring directly forward as if someone was filming a dramatic shot of them.

"Now would be a good time to call Scott," Celeste nodded vigorously.

"I can't call him from my phone," Allison denied, "my parents would see it."

"Use mine," Stiles tossed his phone to the taller girl, who immediately dialed Scott's number, which she knew by heart.

"It's me. You need to get here," Allison spoke after her boyfriend presumably picked up, "now."

She hung up shortly thereafter, and resumed looking helplessly through the window at the leather-clad werewolves alongside Stiles and Celeste.

Allison hesitantly pulled out her phone and begin entering something in.

"What are you doing?" Stiles pried.

"I think-," Allison wiped at her eyes, "I think I have to call my dad."

"But Scallison," Celeste whined.

"If he finds you here," Stiles agreed, "you and Scott-,"

"I know," Allison snapped, "but what are we supposed to do? They're not here to scare us, okay? They're here to kill Lydia."

She tried to force herself to press the 'call' button, but sighed out shakily as she couldn't.

"I got an idea," Stiles piped up, "Just shoot one of 'em."

"Are you serious?" Allison looked nervously at her crossbow.

"We told Scott we could protect ourselves," Stiles nodded, interlacing his fingers with Celeste's, "so let's do it. Or at least give it a shot, right? Pun intended."

"Okay," Allison agreed gravely.

"Look," Stiles got into his pep-talk stance, "they don't think we're gonna fight, so if one of them gets hit, I guarantee they'll take off. So just shoot one of them."

"Which one?" Allison peaked through the curtains nervously.

"Uh," Stiles breathed out, "Derek. Yeah, shoot him. Preferably in the head."

"Not in the head," Celeste instructed solemnly.

"If Scott was able to catch an arrow, Derek definitely can," Allison argued.

"Okay, uh," Stiles' words were jumbled, "just shoot one of the other three then."

"But not in the head," Celeste nodded.

"You mean two," Allison corrected nervously.

"No," Stiles frowned, "I mean three. Where the hell is Isaac?"

"This is very much not good," Celeste whispered as Allison aimed her arrow.

However, she was robbed of her chance to shoot it by one Isaac Lahey tackling her to the ground.

"Oh, this is definitely against my doctor's orders," Celeste squeaked out as Isaac knocked Stiles onto the floor and slammed her against the wall.

"I heard you passed out," Isaac looked her in the eye with concern.

"Yeah," she had no choice but to grab onto his forearms for support as the room began to sway around her. "and with the way this night's going, it'll probably happen again."

"Guys," Allison's voice sounded out from upstairs, "it's here."

"Why are you here?" Isaac growled out, "It's too dangerous."

"Why are you constantly doing Derek's dirty work for him?" Celeste snapped back, and it was at this moment that Stiles hit the blue-eyed boy over the head with a lamp.

It didn't do much besides make him very angry, but he did release Celeste to attack Stiles, as was the boy's intention.

Celeste was seriously considering spider-monkey leaping on to Isaac's back to inhibit his attacks when Scott came in and took over.

"Oh thank god," Celeste raced over and grabbed Stiles, checking him over for injury while Scott knocked Isaac out effortlessly.

Scott threw Isaac and a kanima venom paralyzed Erica – courtesy of one badass crossbow wielding Argent – out of the house as Stiles and Celeste clung to each other in panic.

"We weren't made for this life," Celeste huffed out, "We were made for sitting on couches and binge-watching Netflix."

"Agreed," Stiles sighed, before the two joined Scott and Allison on the front porch to face-off with the boss level of the baby biker gang.

Derek observed the two betas resting at his feet, the situation reflecting the one at the ice-skating rink just days before.

"I think I finally get why you keep refusing me, Scott," Derek called out, "You're not an omega. You're already an alpha of your own pack. But you know you can't beat me."

"I can hold you off until the cops get here," Scott countered, as sirens began sounding in the near distance.

At this point, hissing began from above, causing them all to race onto the lawn to look up on the roof, where the kanima was currently situated.

Celeste flinched into Stiles' side as it hissed menacingly before bounding away.

Then, much to Celeste's great relief, Lydia came running out of the house, completely scale free.

"Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" the strawberry blonde was livid.

"It's Jackson."

☾ ☽

"Thanks for driving me home."

Celeste smiled from the passenger seat of Stiles' jeep, looking over at the buzzcut boy.

"No problem," Stiles nodded, "but hey, didn't you have a bike when you first moved here?"

"Oh yeah," Celeste frowned, "I guess I did."

"Whatever happened to that?" he questioned.

"I don't really know," she shrugged, "I think the author is just an asshole who has trouble with continuity."

"What?" Stiles blinked.

"What?" Celeste responded.

"Anyways," Stiles sighed, "do you want to talk about what happened before we went to Scott's?"

"You mean about how Deaton told me I'm the ruler of all empaths and was, up until tonight, considered both an impossibility and a myth, and that he can't even really help me that much because he has no clue what will even happen to me?"

"Yeah," he grimaced, "about that."

"Honestly?" Celeste closed her eyes exhaustedly, "I'm confused and terrified. A veterinarian just told me that my every event in my life was planned out and fated to occur in order for me to fill the requirements needed to create what I am, and that I'm an anomaly absolutely no one can explain, leaving me defenseless and just waiting to see what powers I'll develop."

"We'll figure it out," Stiles' eyes were filled with sincerity and concern as he tucked a stray tress of hair gently behind her ear, "we always do."

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

DUN DUN DUUUUNNNN.

WE FOUND OUT WHAT CELESTE IS. SORT OF. HER ABILITIES AND ORIGIN WILL BE REVEALED AND DEVELOPED WITH HER CHARACTER.

BUT GUYS I'M SO EXCITED I THOUGHT OF THIS ALL BY MY LONESOME AND I HAVE SO MUCH PLANNED AND I REALLY HOPE I CAN MAKE THIS UNIQUE FOR YOU GUYS.

Okay, I'll stop yelling now. This chapter is kind of dry honestly, I'll go back and edit it a ton probably but I'm really tired and I wanted to write so this happened.

Love you all so much and stay hydrated,

-Belle xx