I do not own Teen Wolf or any of its characters. I only own Celeste. If I did I would have the background music consist solely of Michael Cera's surprise indie album.

Song - Out of my League // Fitz and the Tantrums

Celeste's POV
"This is so pretty little liars."

Celeste grumbled to herself as she smoothed out the coarse red and white striped fabric of her candy striper uniform. She collected herself from her position in the storage closet; her street clothes a jumbled heap in the corner.

She reached into the pocket of the old fashioned uniform, checking to make sure the plastic zip-lock bag was still safely snuggled inside.

She waited until the chatty nurses outside's voices faded away before reaching for the metal door handle, pushing it open with trepidation. She winced at the way the hinges creaked, it was apparent that the maintenance upkeep of the hospital's rarely used basement was subpar at best. This was a promising realization, seeing as the only things in use on this floor were the generator room, the security booth, and the morgue.

Unfortunately, Celeste's current mission didn't include visits to the generator room or the security booth.

She darted out of the closet and into the deserted hallway, her eyes searching for security cameras that weren't there. Apparently, the hospital did not see the basement as a priority to watch over, they saw it as a place of hopelessness and people beyond saving, and Celeste couldn't help but agree.

Her eyes then scanned the various doors, zeroing in on the plaque that apathetically spelled out 'Morgue'. She hurried over to the huge stainless steel set of double doors, knowing she didn't have much time.

Celeste let herself in, emitting a shiver at the logically cool temperature of the death ridden room. She sent a silent prayer to Whoever-Was-Watching at the lack of living people occupying the morgue.

The first thing she saw was a white sheet, drawn out on a metal table. It bulged out for about half of the length of the table before flattening out onto the silver surface.

Celeste grimaced; knowing the body underneath was none other than the one she had so crassly helped unearth less than twenty four hours ago.

Her grimace turned into one of full blown disgust as Celeste forced herself to draw back the bottom of the low thread count sheet, peeling it carefully away to expose only the wound.

The rotting stench of corpse hit her nose like someone had punched her with it, and her eyes began to water in both horror and remorse.

She closed her eyes and pushed away every emotion but determination, steeling herself and reaching into the pocket of her striper costume, pulling out a small baggie of wolf hairs.

The bite marks would match those of a wolf, but she knew that wolf hairs would not be apparent, seeing as the hair would come off a human head.

From a young age, Celeste had been fascinated with the idea of witches, and had collected a plethora of witch related items ranging from healing stones to potion ingredients. The idea had sparked in her mind on the way home from Derek's arrest, and low and behold she had found a tiny vile of wolf hairs nestled in between fox fur and coyote fur.

She shakily opened the bag and began sprinkling the fibers with great restraint on the wound at a pace she would have considered tedious had she not been placed under such a short time limit.

She gave a definitive nod of her head after she felt she had placed enough evidence for the coroner to rule it an animal attack, shoving the baggie haphazardly back in her pocket.

She spun on her heel, eager to get out of the lifeless reminder that no one is invincible and over to Allison's, where she had promised her presence to help her friend study for the upcoming math test.

Celeste chuckled to herself at how silly it seemed to be engaging in an activity as menial as studying when so much was going on.

☾ ☽

"Do you think I should paint my walls lilac?" Allison pondered from her desk out loud.

It was hours after Celeste's morbid adventure, and the two were now getting ready for the upcoming game as night blanketed the town of Beacon Hills.

Celeste looked up from her inspection of Allison's closet, mulling over the question.

"I would actually go for a charcoal grey," Celeste offered, "but I'm dismal and gloomy, so you probably shouldn't listen to me."

Allison laughed over the sound of Halsey playing from Celeste's iPod hooked up to Allison's speakers, rolling at Celeste's normal self-deprecation.

Celeste returned to her search, pulling out a beige jacket with black accents.

"This," she smiled proudly at her discovery, "with a knit beanie. Scott will love it. Actually, Scott would love you in a neon onesie."

"Shut up," Allison blushed, "but that's cute. Thanks Celeste."

"What can I say?" Celeste shrugged as her friend took the jacket from her, "I am a fashion goddess. Watch out Lydia Martin."

"Yeah," Allison scoffed as she drew the curtains on her windows, "try saying that to her face."

They both winced at the thought of Lydia's wrath towards those who dared to defy her, jumping at the sound of a large thump followed by the screeching tires of a car from just outside Allison's house.

They glanced at each other in shock before racing out of Allison's room and down the stairs to check out the cause of the sound.

Allison pushed open the door and gasped in shock at the sight of Scott writhing on the ground under a concerned looking Chris Argent, racing towards the two with a wide eyed expression, Celeste rushing behind her.

"Dad?" Allison asked tentatively, before she realized what she was seeing, "Dad, what the hell are you doing?"

"He-he," her father stuttered incredulously, "he came out of nowhere, Allison."

"Are you trying to kill him?" Allison asked breathlessly as she and Celeste crouched down beside a confused looking Scott.

Scott looked at Mr. Argent in surprise at Allison's words, as if he actually believed them. Which, Celeste pondered, he technically was.

"No, of course not," Mr. Argent defended himself indignantly, "he just ran out into the driveway."

"I'm sorry," Scott apologized, but he was looking at Allison, "it was my fault, I'm sorry."

"Are you okay?" Allison asked, as Celeste stifled a giggle from beside her as she realized Scott was fine, besides being a love struck idiot.

She tuned out their conversation as she stood up, brushing the grass off of the knees of her jeans. Scott seemed fine physically, but emotionally she could tell he was completely out of whack.

She dialed Stiles' number, and he picked up on the first ring.

"Hey Celeste," she heard him crackle out through the phone speaker, "what's up? Not much is up with me; I definitely didn't lose an entire mentally unhinged person. That would be totally irresponsible."

"What's up with Scott?" She asked, ignoring his usual ramblings.

"Did you find him? Oh thank god," relief flooded his tone before it turned to concern, "wait, are you okay? Did he try to hurt you?"

"What? No," Celeste said in confusion, "Mr. Argent ran him over with his car, though. Why would you ask that? Stiles, what did you do?"

Stiles was silent for a moment.

"I may have kept the rope," he muttered sheepishly.

"You kept the-," Celeste walked away from the group of people now talking in a circle, "you kept the rope? Stiles you idiot, did werewolf cinematography teach you nothing?"

"I know, I know," Stiles sounded as though he was hitting himself, "but he's okay, right? No fangs, no claws? No barking?"

"Do you think he'd still be alive if that was the case?" Celeste glanced back at Mr. Argent calmly conversing with his daughter and a teenage werewolf.

"I guess not," Stiles muttered.

"I have to go," Celeste signaled the end of the conversation, "but good luck tonight, pixie."

"You're so emasculating," Stiles groaned, "but thanks. See you there, yeah?"

"Of course," Celeste smiled.

They said their goodbyes just in time for Celeste to hear that Mr. Argent was apparently also coming to the game.

☾ ☽

Celeste shuffled into the bleachers next to Allison, with her dad coming in behind them just in time to watch as Lydia grabbed Scott, pulling him close and speaking to him.

Celeste could practically feel his annoyance, and realized at this point that there was nothing she could do except watch and hope that Scott didn't maul someone or something.

Lydia spotted Allison and Celeste in the stands, making her way over as Celeste scooted away from Allison to make space for their strawberry blonde friend.

"What's up bit- oh hey Mr. Argent," Lydia caught herself as she caught sight of Allison's dad, and Celeste giggled at Allison's terrified face.

"Nice to see you, Lydia," Chris extended his hand with an amused smile, which Lydia confidently took before sitting gracefully in her seat on the metal stands.

"Can you help me hold up signs for Jackson?" Lydia questioned Celeste, to which the girl replied with a snort.

"Never mind, I forgot you were incapable of feeling school spirit," Lydia quipped before turning to Allison, presumably asking the same thing, knowing that Allison would be too polite to turn her down.

A shrill whistle sounded, signaling the beginning of the game, and Celeste looked attentively on as Scott got in to position.

She frowned at the sight of Stiles chewing on his glove nervously from the bench, knowing that he had wanted to see some playing time.

Scott was completely open, but it seemed as though everyone was purposely not passing him the ball.

Celeste narrowed her eyes at Jackson, knowing it was his doing, only to see him crashing into Scott and sending the werewolf flying back in an effort to get the ball. There was no 'I' in team, but there was one in 'Whittemore'.

The entirety of the spectators in the stands leapt up, cheering as Jackson made a goal. 

Lydia turned towards Allison in excitement, and the dark haired girl apprehensively helped Lydia hold up grammatically incorrect sign that said simply: 'We Luv U Jackson'.

Celeste rolled her eyes at the sign as it blocked the view of people behind them, but her breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight of a shaking Scott McCall.

She groaned, slipping through the masses of people to get to the bench where Stiles was sitting and plopping down beside him.

"Hey," she smiled at him nervously, causing him to jump.

"Oh, hey," Stiles replied as the two sat shoulder to shoulder on the edge of the bench, their minds jittery with nerves.

"Oh, this is not gonna be good," Stiles said matter-of-factly as Scott breathed out in frustration.

Celeste nodded in agreement, instinctively grabbing on to Stiles' forearm in stress.

Stiles tensed at her touch, but then relaxed with his cheeks heating up in splashes of soft pink.

Scott doubled over, obviously holding back his anger with everything he had. Celeste groaned when he nodded ominously at a concerned referee, and the kid behind him backed up nervously. 

The werewolf had either suddenly contracted Irritable Bowel Syndrome, or he was about to go full Hulk on the field.

"We should have listened to Derek," Celeste reprimanded in a nervous voice, "Derek was right."

"Derek is not right, he's a crazy psycho killer," Stiles reminded before he took in a shivering Celeste, "Hey, are you cold?"

"I was trying to prove dominance over my peers by wearing short sleeves in the cold," Celeste explained miserably, "but now I'm just really freaking freezing."

Stiles frowned, leaning down to rummage through his bag and pulling out a bright orange hoodie, holding it out to Celeste.

"No, I couldn't," Celeste tried to brush off his offer.

"Put on the damn hoodie, Lune," Stiles insisted.

"Put on a better face," Celeste retorted weakly, even though she secretly thought Stiles' face was really beautiful.

Stiles rolled his eyes before shoving the hoodie on a protesting Celeste himself, helping her pull her arms through.

"Thanks," she muttered sheepishly.

They groaned in unison as Lydia forced Allison to hold up another sign, watching Scott cautiously as his agitation reached its peak.

The whistle blew again, and Celeste held her breath as the faceoff began.

Scott supposedly collected himself enough to catch a ball by jumping over two players like some sort of radioactive ballerina.

"Right," Celeste held her face in her hands, "because that's inconspicuous. Way to blend, Scotty."

Stiles groaned, putting his head on Celeste's shoulder exasperatedly, and she cursed herself mentally for blushing.

The crowd jumped up as Scott scored, Stiles shouting in disbelief and Lydia remaining in her seat saltily.

"By George I think he's doing alright," Celeste said excitedly as the game went on, and Scott just kept on scoring.

Stiles laughed giddily, turning to look at Celeste and laughing harder.

"What?" Celeste frowned.

"You have hoodie hair," Stiles smiled, reaching over and brushing his hand through her hair softly.

Celeste laughed nervously at his action, and he froze, his eyes widening when he realized what he was doing.

"Sorry," he mumbled, chewing on his glove in embarrassment, and Celeste hated herself for wishing he hadn't stopped.

"McCall," coach yelled hoarsely, "pass to McCall!"

They watched together as a player from the opposing team charged at Scott, only to stop at Scott's murderous gaze and toss him the ball before running away.

Coach Finstock poked his head between the two, causing Celeste to accidentally get a mouthful of his crazy hair.

"Did the other team just deliberately pass us the ball?" he inquired incredulously.

"I believe so coach," Stiles replied and Celeste simply shrugged.

"Interesting," he mused, before turning to face the raven haired girl next to him.

"Lune," the coach barked at her, "what the hell are you doing on the bench?"

"Science experiment," she replied without thinking, too focused on Scott, "I'm seeing how many times you can yell in one game before your head actually explodes off of your body."

Her eyes widened when she realized she had said that aloud, but Coach only burst into slightly crazed laughter.

"I like you kid," he informed her, giddy from the score, "I like you a lot."

"Thanks, Coach," she said in confusion, but he had already walked away to go scream at Greenburg for hogging all the water.

It was at this point that Scott decided to throw the ball so hard that he literally burned through the goalie's lacrosse head net, causing everyone to go wild.

Celeste only hoped that her friend hadn't gone feral.

Her fears seemed to have been realized as Scot stopped in the middle of the field, cradling the ball but not moving towards the goal.

"Oh no Scott," Stiles spoke, mostly to himself, "no."

He and Celeste held their breath as two players from the other team glanced at each other before charging forward, but something seemed to break Scott out of his trance and he flung the ball forward, making a perfect goal.

Celeste and Stiles jumped up, grabbing each other and hopping up and down, cheering for a different reason then the rest of the stands. Their friend had exercised enough control to play the game, use his new powers, and impress Allison. He was a regular Troy Bolton.

"Woah," Celeste stopped cheering, causing Stiles to pout, "look at Scott."

Stiles furrowed his brows, but his eyes widened at Scott's retreating figure running from the field, much to Allison's chagrin.

They were about to race after him, but Stiles was distracted by his father, who was on his phone and looked concerned.

"Dad?" Stiles asked, Celeste looking at the sheriff with worry, "what's wrong?"

"The cor- oh," Sheriff Stilinski caught sight of Celeste, "who's this?"

"What? It's Celeste," Stiles spoke as though it should have been obvious, "who was on the phone?"

"Celeste?" the man smirked, "I've heard so much about you."

Celeste smiled at the thought of being relevant enough for Stiles to talk about her, and took his outstretched hand to properly introduce herself.

"No you haven't," Stiles exclaimed with a bright red face, turning towards Celeste, "He hasn't! That's not even relevant. Who was on the phone?"

Celeste snickered at his embarrassment, and the sheriff looked at the two of them with interest before turning to Stiles.

"That was the police department," he explained, "they let Derek walk free."

"What?" Stiles blanched, and Celeste hid her smile behind a hand clad in Stiles' sweater.

"Yeah, they found wolf hairs on the body," the sheriff continued, rolling his eyes at his son's interruption, "so they ruled it an animal attack."

"They can't!" Stiles shouted with wide eyes, causing Celeste to flinch at his tone.

"Why not?" the sheriff asked suspiciously, "It makes sense. He buried the body because it was Laura Hale."

Celeste didn't see that one coming, but she could feel an immense amount of guilt weighing her down as she thought about the way they had so carelessly ransacked and defaced the final resting place of a man's family member.

"Woah," Stiles blinked, "Hale? Like Derek Hale?"

"Yes Stiles," his father patronized, "the girl is his sister."

"Stiles," Celeste nudged him softly, gesturing towards the locker room inconspicuously.

"Oh yeah," he muttered, grabbing Celeste's forearm and dragging her towards it.

"It was nice to meet you, Sir," Celeste called out behind her with an apologetic smile, earning a grin from the sheriff.

Stiles banged open the door to the locker room building, tugging Celeste behind him.

They ran into the boy's locker room, disregarding completely the gender specificity of the room, only to find Scott kissing Allison.

"Oh my god," Stiles groaned, falling back as Celeste cooed at the couple.

"Shut up," Celeste whispered, nudging him in the side with her elbow, "they're adorable."

The pair broke apart, and Allison practically skipped away, pausing as she saw Stiles and Celeste crouching behind a shelf.

"Stiles," she greeted with a giddy smile, "Celeste."

"Hey," Stiles drawled out, while Celeste only squealed at her softly.

Scott ambled over to the two of them with the cheesiest grin Celeste had ever witnessed plastered upon his face.

"I kissed her," Scott said dreamily.

"We saw," Stiles nodded condescendingly, but Celeste could tell he was happy for his friend.

"She kissed me," the boy practically giggled out.

"We saw that too," Celeste grinned, high-fiving a serene looking Scott.

"It's pretty good, huh?" Stiles added, as if he knew what he was talking about.

"I don't know how," Scott said with stars in his eyes, "but I controlled it. I pulled it back. Maybe I can do this, maybe its not that bad."

Celeste felt a lump of happiness in her throat, it seemed as though everything was going well at the moment and she loved the look of joy on her friend's face.

Stiles let out a breathy laugh thing, nodding at Scott.

"We'll talk later then," he slapped Scott's chest, not wanting to ruin his amazing mood.

Scott clutched at Stiles' jersey, forcing Stiles to pause his efforts of leaving the locker room.

"What?" Scott asked, obviously sensing Stiles' distress.

"The medical examiner looked at the other half of the body we found," Stiles sighed out.

"And?" Scott coerced his apprehensive friend.

"Well, I'll keep it simple," he unwillingly explained, "medical examiner determines killer of girl to be animal not human, Derek's human not animal, Derek not killer, Derek let out of jail."

"Are you kidding?" Scott asked in disbelief.

"No, and here's the bigger kick in the ass," Stiles continued, "my dad ID'd the dead girl, both halves. Her name was Laura Hale."

☾ ☽

Celeste strolled up the stairs of her house, finally letting the grin that had been threatening to come out since the moment Stiles' dad had given them the news make an appearance.

The grin turned into a gasp, however, when she opened the door to her room and a dark figure was sitting on her bed.

The man looked over to her in curiosity as she slammed the door shut and looked at him incredulously.

"Oh my god, Derek," she chastised, "you can't just sneak into the rooms of teenage girls and sit on their beds mysteriously."

Derek only caveman grunted at the girl, causing her to roll her eyes exasperatedly before flouncing down on the bed beside him.

"So," she drawled out, not nearly as uncomfortable as she should have been given her situation, "how does it feel to be a newly freed man?"

"It feels like I was just in jail," he spoke, turning to look at her.

Celeste frowned, looking for the words to make the man feel better.

"They found wolf hairs on the body," Derek said, "which is odd. They shouldn't have found wolf hairs from a werewolf attack."

"Life works in mysterious ways," Celeste shrugged mischievously.

"Thank you," Derek spoke, and Celeste got the feeling that that was a phrase the man didn't utter often.

"Sure," Celeste spoke casually, getting up and moving towards her bathroom, "hey, do you want some water?"

There was no response, so Celeste turned back around to find an empty room and an open window.

"I should really be used to this by now," Celeste sighed out.

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

Hello friends!! I keep ending on dramatic Derek scenes. Probably because Derek Hale is a diva.

I think I am doing better with updates??? I am uploading this at a time that's not between the hours of 2 and 4 am, so I take that as progress.

I really hate writing already written scenes, I feel like it strips away any creativity. Whatever, I'm the asshole who made Celeste find out about werewolves so early on.

I have so much planned for Celeste, but at least for this book it is going to happen really slowly, just because of the pacing of the show.

Anyways, I hope you all are doing fantastic and if you aren't I am always here and very alone.

Love always & stay hydrated,

-Belle xx