I do not own Teen Wolf or any of its characters. I only own Celeste. If I did I promise I would have shown Greenburg a long time ago.

Song - Jaigantic // Tora (Galimatias remix)

Celeste's POV

                The sound of the Martin household's doorbell echoed throughout the house and reached Celeste's ears.

                Frowning at the lack of response she got, Celeste carefully shifted the covered cake platter containing ten buttercream frosted red velvet cupcakes.

                Originally, there were a dozen, but she had offered Stiles one and another had mysteriously disappeared around the time the spastic boy had left her home.

                She knocked on the door, and was about to start pounding the Imperial Death March on Lydia's mahogany door when one carefully poised Lydia Martin opened the door.

                "Yes?" the strawberry blonde haughtily greeted Celeste, obviously still miffed about her not eating lunch with Lydia.

                "I'm sorry for bailing on you at lunch," Celeste apologized with a sheepish grin, "but, I come bearing delicious baked goods."

                Celeste dramatically showed off the cupcakes, and she could see her friend's resolve slowly weakening.

                "Are they buttercream instead of cream cheese?" she sniffed and Celeste felt relief, knowing she was forgiven.

                "Always," she replied matter-of-factly, before reaching into her bag and clumsily pulling out a DVD case, "What do you say? Legally Blonde and cupcake binge?"

                Lydia's doe eyes softened, and she stepped out of the door frame to let Celeste through.

                "Its about time you showed up," Lydia stated, "I have so much to complain about."

                "Fire away," Celeste said as she plopped onto Lydia's comfy living room love seat after placing the cupcakes on the coffee table, "you know I'm always a slut for listening to menial first world problems."

                Lydia rolled her eyes, but proceeded to launch into her story anyways. Celeste nodded along, interjecting with the odd "oh" or "yeah" when she felt it was necessary.

                There was no chance of Lydia's parents coming home, they were almost never here. Celeste knew they had been toying around with the daunting word divorce for a while now, and they didn't like being around Lydia when they discussed it. Which was always, according to a secretly terrified Lydia.

                Celeste reached for a cupcake, sighing dramatically at Lydia's antics, but a small smile was painted on her face as she felt the pair settling back into their groove.

                "Obviously Jackson will play," Lydia rattled on, "but he won't be at his peak. Not that you even care about what I'm saying because you're too busy dreaming about making love to your buzzcut boy."

                Celeste answered this accusation by choking on her cupcake.

                "Lydia, what the hell?" Celeste exclaimed, her cheeks burning red from what she hoped was the effort that went into her recovery from near death by cupcake.

                "What?" Lydia cried with a smirk from her seat next to Celeste, "you guys are even making impromptu house calls, do you really expect me to believe you aren't plucking that fiddle?"

                "Yes, and- wait, Lydia," Celeste paused mid rant, "were you spying on me?"

                "I may have happened to stumble upon the sight of him entering your house through the lifted corner of my bedroom curtain," Lydia admitted with pursed lips, "but that's so not the point."

                "Oh my god," Celeste groaned at the accusation, "we were just making cupcakes and having an impromptu dance party to One Direction's first album."

                "I should have known," Lydia sighed, "virgins are so lame."

                Celeste was about to reply that her mom was lame, but her childish retort was halted by a sudden tornado of emotions flooding throughout her.

                It felt as though her mind was being torn apart, as one side filled with ice cold terror that chilled her to the bone, and the other was ablaze in red hot anger, the flames licking at her insides with frustration.

                A pair of perfectly manicured fingers snapped in front of her, and all at once the foreign feelings were gone.

                "Celeste," Lydia snapped her fingers again in annoyance, "where'd you go?"

                "Sorry," Celeste said with a frown, completely disoriented, "what were you saying?"

                "I was asking," Lydia huffed out, "if you could use your new nerd boyfriend to make sure Scott is going to be able to carry us through Saturday's game."

                The idea filled Celeste with strong unease, for reasons unbeknownst to her.

                "I don't," Celeste blinked in confusion, "I don't think that would be wise."

                "What? Since when do you even care about sports?" Lydia snorted, "Whatever, I guess I have to do everything myself."

                The two fell into a comfortable silence, and Celeste tried her best to shake herself out of her bizarre stupor, focusing instead on the angel that was Reese Witherspoon.

☾ ☽

                "All I'm saying is, if you're not a part of Gublernation, what are you a part of? The sixth circle of hell?" Celeste ranted to Allison as the two walked through the crowded halls of Beacon Hills High.

                "You make a valid point, Lune," Allison giggled, before straightening up attentively as the two reached the stairs.

                Celeste was confused at the sudden posture change, but smirked as she caught sight of Scott looking worriedly at his phone.

                "Hey," Allison chirped sweetly, while Celeste trailed leisurely behind her, acknowledging Scott with a soft smile, "busy?"

                "No, no, its just my mom," Scott replied as the two girls slowed to a stop in front of him, "she's nothing."

                Celeste snorted while Allison made wide, concerned eyes at the floundering boy.

                "I mean, its nothing," he tried, "uh, I'm never too busy for you."

                Celeste cringed, but Allison smiled flirtatiously at his boyish grin.

                "I like the sound of that," she supplied with a giggle, "I have to run to French class but I wanted you to know that I'm coming to see you play tomorrow."

                "Ah yes, and I to math class my friends," Celeste used as an excuse to extract her bitter aura from the sickeningly sweet exchange, "Utilisez protection vous petits chiens de corne."

                Scott scrunched his face together in confusion as Allison turned bright red and Celeste cackled as she walked away.

                She had felt stress radiating off of Scott in waves, but she chalked that up to nerves about talking to her model like friend, and pushed it aside as she opened her locker to collect her things for the worst class in the history of the universe.

☾ ☽

                Celeste slouched in her seat as her math teacher asked for volunteers to solve the problems on the board. She had already completed the equation from her seat, she just despised going in front of the class to do anything. Besides, touching chalk made her skin crawl.

                Unsurprisingly, Lydia's hand shot up with confidence and the teacher called on her enthusiastically.

                The man then tried to make eye contact with Celeste, but to no avail as she expertly averted her gaze and traced the numbers already printed on her page in an effort to make it seem as though she was busy with a problem.

                With a sigh, the teacher reluctantly called on an extremely confused looking Scott McCall.

                The two made their way to the board, and Celeste cringed as they picked up their chalk. She felt this fear of chalk becoming a real issue but, as with all of her problems, she pushed it aside and began drawing a cactus on her page.

                She looked up when the two began speaking to each other in hushed tones. At first, she thought Lydia may have been helping Scott with his problem, but she tossed that idea out the window when she remembered she was talking about Lydia.

                Judging by her confident stance, and Scott's annoyed one, Lydia had found the poor puppy boy's buttons and was pushing them relentlessly.

                Lydia finished the question quickly, and dropped the chalk in the sassiest way one can complete a math problem before turning on her heel and sitting next to Celeste with a satisfied smirk.

                "Lydia," Celeste chastised her friend, "did you just threaten a teenage boy with the Quadratic Formula?"

                "Cute boots," Lydia evaded the question and gestured towards the designer combat boots on Celeste's feet.

                "They're yours," Celeste said with a roll of her eyes.

                "I know."

☾ ☽

                Celeste found herself in the woods yet again after school. At first she had no real destination, but she seemed to be drawn back in the direction of the charred old house.

                She had approached the outskirts of the clearing where the building was when she heard heated voices.

                Celeste cringed at the thought of people and immediately hid herself behind a tree with bated breath.

                "You don't get it yet Scott, but I'm looking out for you," Celeste's eyes widened as she heard the familiar voice of Derek Hale, "think about what could happen."

                Celeste knew at this point that she should have made herself known, but curiosity overtook her and she guiltily remained unseen.

                "You're out on the field, the aggression takes over, and you shift," Celeste furrowed her dark brows at this, "in front of everyone."

                Silence followed, and Celeste tried to decipher what they could possibly be talking about.

                Shifting? What the hell did that even mean? Was Scott the Hulk? She stopped herself from getting excited about the absurd thought and perked her ears up as conversation started up again.

                "Your mom, all your friends," so just Stiles, Celeste thought amusedly, "and when they see you, everything falls apart."

                She heard Scott get on his bike and angrily pedal away, and then nothing.

Until, of course, she blinked and out of nowhere a frowning Derek appeared in front of her.

                "What are you doing here?" he growled out, and Celeste pushed away the unease she felt towards his aggressive attitude.

                "What are any of us doing anywhere?" she avoided his question by asking another question.

                Derek rolled his eyes, but his stance relaxed slightly.

                "How much did you hear?" he demanded.

                "Hello Derek, nice to see you too, I'm just grand thanks for asking," Celeste said sardonically, "I didn't hear anything that made any sense."

                "Do you always just wander around the woods unsupervised?" Derek asked, and Celeste could have sworn she saw a glimmer of concern in his stony eyes.

                "When I'm not off fighting assassins, yes," Celeste informed him, "but hey, you're sort of supervising me now."

                "Yeah? And who's going to supervise if I decide to murder you serial killer style?" he asked, and Celeste could tell he didn't joke often.

                "Please," Celeste scoffed, "you wouldn't hurt a fly. Okay, maybe you would, but you wouldn't hurt me. I'm too adorable."

                Derek grunted indignantly, but his demeanor had gone from defensive to loose.

                "I honestly didn't really believe you when you said you were friends with Scott," Celeste ignored his rude caveman noise, "but from what I heard you guys sound more like frenemies."

                "And you let Allison get in the car with me anyways?"

                "Allison can handle herself," she brushed him off, "I swear that girl is secretly an international spy or something equally as cool. Allison is cool. I love her."

                Derek chuckled softly, apparently thinking about an inside joke with himself.

                "This really is private property," Derek informed her lightheartedly, "so technically you're trespassing right now."

                "What," Celeste rolled her eyes, "are you living here or something?"

                He blinked.

                "Jesus Derek," Celeste cried, "why would you be-oh. Is this- is this where it happened?"

                Derek clenched his jaw as she brought up the Hale house fire, but his silence was answer enough.

                "God, I'm sorry," Celeste stumbled over her words in an effort to apologize, "I should have realized. Do you need a place to stay? My door is always open. Well, you should probably call first. I don't know how my mom would react to a surprise visit from a suspicious looking young adult male."

                As she rambled on, she pulled out a black ballpoint pen from her bag and gently grasped his arm, writing her cell phone number clumsily on the soft skin of the underside of his forearm. He watched her do this with curious eyes, but made no move to stop her.

                "I am available at most times," she kept on, "but on weekends don't expect me to answer you until at least after noon, but most nights I'm up really late it that help-,"

                "Celeste," Derek cut her off, looking at her tentatively, "there's something I should tell you."

                "Rude," Celeste huffed out, "but sure, what?"

                "I don't even know you," Derek started looking as confused with himself as Celeste felt, "but there are things in this town, things that you don't even know about, probably that you shouldn't know about. Regardless, I feel like I can trust you for whatever reason. I want you informed, because for reasons unbeknownst to both of us I want you to be safe. Also, I think you might be involved somehow."

                "Derek," Celeste said softly, looking up at him, "what is it?"

                "I'm a-,"

                Derek's confusing proclamation was cut off by Celeste's phone blasting Antichrist by The 1975, and she cringed at the sudden interruption, but pulled her phone out anyways.

                "Sorry, hold on," Celeste apologized while flipping it open, "seriously, this'll take two seconds."

                "Hey mom," she greeted in a falsely cheerful tone, "what's up?"

                Celeste's mother blasted on about some curfew, and told Celeste to get home so she wouldn't have to go through the embarrassment of her delinquent daughter being brought home in a police cruiser.

                "Okay, sorry mom," Celeste winced, "I'm on my way."

                She shut her phone and turned to apologize to her new friend, but he had disappeared.

                "Derek?" she called out with a prolonged sigh, "we really need to work on the whole dramatic exits thing buddy."

☾ ☽

I would like to use this time to advise you of an upcoming trigger warning in the story regarding abuse. If this is triggering to you, please skip to the next bolded entry. Also, if you are being abused in any way, please reach out to an authority figure you trust, and please feel free to message me at any time to talk. I am always here. Stay strong, I love you all.

                Celeste pushed the door of her house open, and groaned internally as she was met with the sight of her mother, dressed in a blazer with a white blouse tucked into black slacks and her arms folded over.

                "Where have you been?" she asked, her face reminiscent to that of a person who had been sucking on a lemon consistently for ten years.

                "I was at the library," Celeste bit her lip nervously, knowing her mom would disapprove of her daughter traipsing through the woods, "studying for my A.P. French test. Sorry for making you worry, I promise to call next time."

                "Oh please," her mom scoffed, "you've never had to study a day in your life. What is it? Are you on drugs? Were you at some sort of drug house?"

                "What?" Celeste cried indignantly, "No mom! It's only 4:30, when would I find the time or the money?"

                "Watch your attitude," her mom hissed with narrowed eyes, "you're lucky I am on my way to a PTA meeting or I'd be giving you a drug test."

                "You're psychotic," Celeste scoffed, immediately regretting it as she felt the harsh sting of her mother's hand against her cheek.

                "Mind your tongue," her mother said simply before adjusting her blazer and sliding past her out the door.

                Tears collected in Celeste's eyes as she clutched her cheek, but she refused to cry. She refused to give her mother that satisfaction.

                Instead, she made her way slowly to her room and sat on the floor, closing her eyes as her body shook for a few minutes, breathing deeply.

The triggering part is over, sorry for the inconvenience. You didn't miss much, just that Celeste is now in her room and her mother has changed a lot from the time that Celeste was little.

            She missed her father, and her brother, and the way her mother used to be. She missed a lot of things, but that's just how life was.

            It wasn't fair, but neither was what happened to Derek, or to Stiles, or to Jackson, or to anyone who had ever lost someone.

It wasn't fair that when you lose someone you also lose a part of yourself, that a piece of you is broken off and can never be recovered. It wasn't fair, but you had to keep going. You had to keep going for those who can't.

            With this in mind, Celeste collected herself and rose from the floor. She padded over to her closet door, closed her hand around the knob, and pulled it open. Step by step, she made herself move again.

            She stood on her tip toes to reach a shoebox that resided on the top shelf. Celeste carried the box over to her bed the utmost caution. She placed it gently on her duvet and sat cross legged before it.

She slowly removed the lid and looked over the contents inside. A small, worn blanket, a braided bracelet, a golden compass, and a single photograph. The only traces she had left of what her family used to be, besides the silver crescent moon pendant that rested permanently around her neck.

She slipped the braided bracelet around her wrist, it was the one her brother made for her at summer camp.

"For good luck," he had said excitedly as he placed it on her tiny wrist, "when you're wearing it you'll always be reminded that your big brother is here to protect you."

There was still a faint stain on it from when she had dropped ice cream on the fabric when her father had taken them to Baskin Robbins. She had taken it off so her father could clean it. She had forgotten to put it back on.

She smiled at the photograph, it was of her father, herself, and their old family dog, a King Charles Spaniel named Rosie. Celeste had been so adamant on naming the dog Rosie.

"But he's a boy dog," her brother had said with a wrinkled nose, "Rosie is a girl dog name."

Celeste's eyes had welled up with tears, and her father threw his hands in the air.

"Oh who cares," he had boomed, "if the dog wants to be called Rosie, let the dog be called Rosie."

Celeste reminisced fondly, but was distracted as she noticed a familiar glow in her dog's eyes.

"Why are his eyes flashing?" she had asked her father in confusion when he showed her the picture.

"Tapetum Lucidum, little bee," he had explained.

"What's a tape tummy Lucy dum?" she had asked with a scrunched face.

"Tapetum Lucidum," he elaborated with a hearty laugh, "is something most animals have in their eyes that reflects the flash of the camera onto the picture. Humans don't have it, so their eyes don't glow."

Celeste frowned, reaching for her camera that was resting on her nightstand. She pulled up the pictures from the party, comparing the photo of her dog to those of one Scott McCall.

Her mind raced as she began piecing things together, and she had to take a moment to collect her thoughts.

She dug around her desk for a blank sheet of paper, and pulled out three pens: red, green, and blue. Celeste started professing all of the obscure happenstances since her arrival in Beacon Hills onto the paper.

She drew lines connecting the events, green for the things that made sense, and red for the things that didn't. It was mostly red lines. She wrote the actual occurrences in blue because, well, blue was pretty.

She worked for an hour, her pants long ago discarded. She spent another hour just staring at the sheet in confusion.

The other day, she was watching Psych, and there was a segment where a character had to turn a cereal box upside down to get the prize. He has to completely disregard everything he knew, defy logic and the societal intention of eating the cereal sensibly before getting the toy. Granted, he was just looking for a mood ring, but the same logistics applied.

Celeste turned the evidence upside down, she tossed out all that she had been taught, and found a solution so ridiculous that it seemed logical. Perhaps it sprouted from her obsessive viewing of the show Supernatural, or maybe she was creating crazy scenarios from her own boredom, but regardless of its absurdity she found herself reaching for her phone, she found herself looking desperately for someone to share in her delusions with, to find a sense of logic in her illogical findings.

The phone rang once before he picked up.

"What?" a disgruntled sounding Stiles answered her call.

"Stiles?" Celeste asked shakily, as if it wasn't actually him.

"Celeste?" he questioned, his tone brightening immediately, "Sorry, I didn't check who was calling. What's up?"

"I need to ask you something," Celeste started, already wincing at how ridiculous she sounded, "and I need you to promise you'll be one hundred percent honest."

"Oh God, okay," Stiles sounded panicked, "is this about the cupcakes? I'm so sorry, they were just so good and-,"

"Stiles," she cut him off more sharply than she intended to.

"Sorry."

"I need to- this will sound- oh God," Celeste rambled.

"Woah, whatever it is you can tell me," Stiles promised, his tone thick with concern.

"Is," Celeste breathed out shakily, "is Scott a werewolf?"

Stiles hung up.

His action was answer enough, and so Celeste spent the next ten minutes pacing around her entire house and raking her hands through her hair violently.

"Oh my God," she muttered as one of her eyes twitched uncontrollably, "oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. One more Chandler Bing style: oh my God."

She probably would have spent the rest of the night in the same state if it weren't for the rough pounding on her front door.

Celeste jumped at the sudden noise, and rushed to answer the door.

On her front stoop stood a very concerned and confused looking Scott McCall next to one Stiles Stilinski, who looked like he had just downed an entire bottle of Adderall.

"How did you- why did you- what the hell Celeste?" Stiles exclaimed through heavy breaths, as though he had run to her house.

"Oh my God," Celeste said again, looking at Scott.

"How did you know?" Scott demanded in clear turmoil, "That's not possible."

"Maybe you shouldn't have heated debates about aggressive shifting with mysterious men deep in the woods where anyone could hear you," Celeste yelled, wincing at her own volume.

"Okay, okay let's all just calm down," Stiles put his hands in front of himself calmingly, "I'm sure you're very confused and have lots of questions, Cel, but so do we."

Celeste blushed at the nickname but pushed it aside, as there were more pressing matters, such as the existence of adolescent Lycans to address.

"We're kind of on a time crunch though," Stiles cringed, "so for now, how do you feel about coming with us to wander the woods at night to find and dig up half of a dead body?"

Celeste stared at him unblinkingly for a few moments, before letting out a drawn out sigh.

"Just let me put on some pants first."

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

Hello there my wonderful friends!! It is I, the human garbage!! How long has it been between updates this time? Ten years? Twenty? Who knows?

Is it much too soon for Celeste to find out about werewolves? Probably! Do my pop culture references align with the time this took place? Not at all! What will Belle mess up next? Stay tuned!

THERE IS A REASON DEREK IS SO TRUSTING OF HER DON'T WORRY!! I am not just changing his personality, you will see.

Seriously, if you liked this story please remember to vote, just because its amazing motivation for me, and it makes me tear up not going to lie. Oops. Typical Cancer.

WE HIT 855 READS ARE YOU SERIOUS???? THAT'S CRAZY!! SO MANY EYEBALLS ON MY UNWORTHY WORDS!!

Alright I am going to go walk my dogs, please stay hydrated and make sure to hug someone you love. I am hugging all of you, because I love you all.

-Belle xx