I do not own Teen Wolf or any of its characters. I only own Celeste. If I did then I would be creative enough to think of more things to write here.

Song - Girl // Grouplove

Celeste's POV

"It just doesn't add up. What possible reason could they have to lie about car troubles?"

Allison ranted to Celeste as they made their way through the crowded halls of Beacon Hills High, her cheeks still tinted pink with the kiss of the cold that had been given to her minutes ago.

"I don't know Alli," Celeste snapped at her friend without meaning to, for some reason feeling like she was on a very short fuse that had just been lit, "maybe they're secretly sociopathic serial killers who are exceptionally bad at corroborating their stories."

"Hey," Allison blinked at her with doe-eyed concern, "you okay? You look tired."

Celeste could understand why her taller friend had inquired, due to her deathly pale skin – more so than usual – and the thin sheen of sweat glistening ever so subtly on her forehead.

"Yeah," Celeste winced, rubbing at her temple as a meager attempt to lessen the pounding headache she was currently experiencing, "sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just feeling a bit under the weather."

If the weather was a torrential hurricane.

"Why don't you go home?" Allison frowned, instinctively pressing a soft hand to Celeste's forehead.

"You know me," Celeste improvised, not necessarily wanting to tell Allison that she was needed in case of large, furry bipedal creature related emergencies, "you couldn't tear me away from school. I just love it so much."

"You think school is a fascist scheme instituted by the government to crush away children's creativity and separate the elite from the rest of society," Allison quoted her verbatim.

"You got me there," Celeste muttered, searching for another excuse.

"Could it be, perhaps, to check on a certain Stiles Stilinski?" Allison offered, mischief dancing across her delicate features.

"What?" Celeste snapped her head to face Allison in a panic, "What happened to Stiles?"

"Nothing," Allison giggled knowingly, "but you just proved my theory."

"Ag, what in the hell are you talking about?" Celeste relaxed, knowing her new friend hadn't been mauled by a werewolf or something.

"That you like Stiles," Allison sang, poking Celeste in the side.

"Dammit Allison," Celeste chastised, batting away the idea immediately, "have you been smoking Meth again?"

"Spare me the denial," Allison rolled her eyes playfully, "and you don't smoke Meth. You inject it with a syringe."

"You would know, you little addict," Celeste grabbed Allison's hand dramatically, "and the only one in denial here is you. But if you let me, I can get you the help you need. Remember, the first step to finding a solution is admitting you have a problem."

"You're using humor as a self-defense mechanism to hide the fact that you're super in love with him," Allison informed her condescendingly, eliciting an irritated scoff from Celeste.

"Anyways," Allison tittered, "do you need a ride home today? I know Lydia is going home with Jackass."

"Thanks but no," Celeste said casually as they drew closer to her classroom, "Stiles offered to take me home today."

Allison did a highly suggestive eyebrow dance.

"Okay, obviously you're tweaking right now. But, for argument's sake, let's say I did have a crush on Stiles," Celeste humored her, ignoring the way her heart fluttered as she thought it over, "It wouldn't even matter. He's been in love with Lydia for forever and a day, everyone knows that. It would be senseless to like him."

"Feelings don't follow sense," Allison argued adamantly, "and it sounds a lot to me like you're trying to talk yourself out of it, not me. Besides, I've seen the way he looks at you. It's not in a friendly way. I ship it. I ship it a lot."

"Yes, well," Celeste blushed, not allowing herself to think over Allison's words, knowing it would complicate an already beyond complex situation, "unfortunately for you, I am a freezing cold, heartless iceberg and I will sink your ship. I will laugh maniacally as it drowns in the waters of platonic friendship."

"Mark my words, Celeste middle-name-I-don't-know Lune," Allison cried dramatically as they slowed to a stop at Celeste's classroom, "My ship will sail, and it will sail hard."

As she spoke, she backed away slowly, before letting out a giggle and turning around to walk on alone.

Celeste let out a snort at her friend's ridiculous notion, but nevertheless blushed as she made her way to her seat in the back of the room next to Stiles and diagonal to Scott.

"It doesn't make any sense, Celeste," the girl mimicked in a dramatically low voice as she slid into her seat, "Your opinion is invalid, Celeste."

Celeste's mockery was spurred by the revelation that her theory about there being a third werewolf was proven correct by Derek, as professed in a text from Scott in their group message, 'Stiles and the LUNAtics'.

It was easy to guess who had named the chat.

"Hey," Stiles tapped his pencil against her desk as a small act of protest, "we never said your opinion was invalid."

"I know," Celeste admitted, pulling her textbook out of her bag, "I hyperbolized to emphasize the fact that I am always right and everyone should listen to me all the time forever."

Stiles scoffed, and was about to make a witty retort when the final bell rang, causing him to huff in annoyance and lean forward in his seat.

He resumed tapping his pencil incessantly as the teacher began to pass back their tests from last week, causing Celeste to hold back the urge to take the pencil and shove it up his nose.

Her heightened annoyance spurred from the still present headache, which panged through her head like a bunch of hyperactive frat boys had gotten drunk and were shouting inside her skull.

Stiles let out an exaggerated breath and leaned forward, jabbing Scott in the shoulder impatiently.

"If Derek isn't the Alpha, if he's not the one that bit you," he started at such an obvious volume that Celeste was surprised Chris Argent hadn't already popped up behind them and shot an arrow through Scott's head, "then who did?"

"I don't know," Scott admitted, seeming like he was disappointed in himself.

"Did the Alpha kill the bus driver?" Stiles tried again, much to Scott's growing annoyance.

"I don't know," Scott said hoarsely, and Celeste sympathized with his confusion.

Stiles flopped back in his seat, but Celeste could tell he had more questions.

"Does Allison's dad know about the Alph-,"

"I don't know," Scott lashed out loudly, obviously spurred by the fact that he was completely clueless and completely terrified.

Celeste sank down in her seat awkwardly as most of the clad turned to face Scott because of his outburst.

A thin packet of paper was placed on Celeste's desk, and she brightened at the sight of the big, red 'A+' circled at the top.

"Suck it, Stilinski," Celeste stuck her tongue out playfully at Stiles when she noticed she had gotten a slightly better score, his emblazoned with a plain 'A'.

Celeste did not think in any way shape or form that grades were a measure of a person's intelligence. Intellect was indefinable, as it came in so many different forms and looked different on everyone. However, it was fun to mess with Stiles.

Stiles let out an obnoxious groan at the girl before he took in the angry looking 'D' Scott sported on his page.

"Dude, you need to study more," Stiles said bluntly while Celeste clucked her tongue in sympathy.

Scott side-eyed Stiles and threw his paper face down onto his desk in a huff.

"That was a joke," Stiles frowned at his reaction, "Scott, its one test. You're gonna make it up."

"I can help you study," Celeste offered softly, at which point for some reason Stiles scowled, "if you want."

"Thanks," Scott smiled at her gratefully, "but I'm studying with Allison after school today."

"That's my boy," Stiles perked up while Celeste did an eyebrow dance.

"We're just studying," Scott rolled his eyes, but a crop of pink emerged on his cheeks.

"Uh," Stiles looked appalled, "no you're not."

"No I'm not?" Scott echoed.

"Not if I'm forced to live vicariously through you," Stiles leered, "If you go to her house today and squander that colossal opportunity I swear to god I'll have you de-balled."

"Okay, ew," Celeste wrinkled her nose, "but as creepy as your hive mind is, c'mon Scotty. I'm the one who's never even held hands with a guy and even I know studying never means just studying."

"Okay," Scott relented with a blush, "just stop with the questions."

"Done," Stiles waved his hands around jerkily, "no more questions. No more talk about the Alpha, or Derek. Especially Derek. Who still scares me."

Celeste laughed shortly, and the three of them fell into silence.

"Wait," Stiles whipped his head around to face Celeste, "You've never had a boyfriend? You? Seriously?"

"Scott said no more questions," Celeste hissed, hiding her blushing face behind a curtain of jet black hair.

☾ ☽

"Scott's coming over?" Lydia asked when Celeste brought it up teasingly in the hallway to a blushing Allison, "Tonight?"

"We're just studying together," Allison smiled nervously.

"Just studying never ends with just studying," Lydia informed her matter-of-factly, "It's like getting into a hot tub. Somebody eventually cops a feel."

"Well, so what are you saying?" Allison blanched, hurrying up the stairs hastily after Lydia and Celeste.

"I'm just saying," Lydia replied slyly, "you know. Make sure he covers up."

Allison blinked.

"Hello Snow White," Lydia giggled, "I'm talking about a condom."

"Are you kidding?" Allison laughed incredulously, "After one date?"

"Don't ever do anything you're not comfortable with, Alli," Celeste assured her, "Scott's not going anywhere."

"Don't be a total prude," Lydia shot Celeste a look, "give him a little taste."

"Well I- I mean," Allison blushed, her eyes darting between her two friends as she clutched her jacket close, "how much is a little taste?"

"Oh my god," Lydia smirked, "You really like him, don't you?"

"Well, I mean, he's just different," Allison sighed out, causing Celeste to coo, "When I first moved here, I had a plan. No boyfriends until college. I just move too much, but, then I met him. He was different. I don't know, I can't explain it."

"I can," Lydia said nonchalantly, "it's your brain flooding with Phenylethylamine."

"What?" Allison laughed in confusion.

"It's an organic compound found in most living organisms that sends signals through your nervous system to your brain and emits feelings of happiness, like Serotonin," Celeste elaborated, and Lydia fist bumped her to signify their combined intellectual superiority.

"I'll tell you what to do," Lydia offered smoothly, "when's he coming over?"

"Right after school."

Lydia leaned in to whisper whatever sin she was on about when the bell rang, and Celeste felt as though an anvil had been dropped on her head.

She clutched the side of her head in agony as the bell screamed in her ear for what felt like hours.

"Woah," Lydia grabbed at her friend in concern, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I don't know."

☾ ☽

"Thanks again for giving me a ride home," Celeste smiled at Stiles as they entered his Jeep, eager to leave the pits of hell and get home to serial watch Bob's Burgers, "You really didn't have to."

"No problem," Stiles cleared his throat, tightly gripping the steering wheel as they backed out of the parking space, "no problem at all. I actually- I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Oh god, are you dying?" Celeste panicked at the serious nature of his tone.

"What?" Stiles laughed nervously, averting his eyes, "No. I was actually wondering if- woah."

Stiles slammed on the well-worn breaks of his Jeep as a very sick looking Derek Hale walked out in front of it.

"Oh my god," Stiles gaped, removing his hand from where he had flung it in front of Celeste soccer mom style.

"Derek?" Celeste gasped, quickly hopping out of the vehicle as he fell to the ground.

"You've got to be kidding me," Stiles grimaced as cars started honking, and he begrudgingly got out of the car, "this guy's everywhere."

"What are you doing here?" Scott obviously heard the commotion and ran over from the bike rack and crouched beside Celeste.

"I was shot," Derek rasped out, holding on to Celeste's arm almost too tightly.

"He's not looking so good," Stiles stated the obvious.

"Why aren't you healing?" Scott asked, while Celeste felt the grimacing man's forehead.

It felt like putting her hand directly onto the dying embers of a fire.

"I can't," Derek breathed out heavily, "It was a different kind of bullet."

"A silver bullet?" Stiles asked excitedly, and Celeste shot him a deadly glare for being so enthused over Derek's condition.

"No, you idiot," Derek groaned, still collapsed in the middle of the road.

"Wait, wait," Scott had his thinking face on, "that's what she meant when she said you had forty eight hours?"

"Who said that?" Derek demanded.

"The woman who shot you," Scott said as if it were obvious.

Derek's eyes flashed an icy blue, and he squeezed them shut forcefully.

"What are you doing?" Scott panicked, "Stop that."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you," Derek growled out in annoyance, his eyes still cycling from a mossy green to an electric blue rapidly, "I can't."

"Derek," Scott looked at him sternly, "get up."

"Pretty sure he's trying his best," Celeste snapped, "and people are starting to notice the disheveled man collapsed in the middle of the parking lot, by the way."

Sure enough, people stuck in the line of cars behind them were getting out, Jackass and Allison included.

"Help me put him in your car," Scott demanded of Stiles, and Celeste led the struggling werewolf gently into the passenger seat before wiggling past him into the back seat.

"I need you to find out what kind of bullet they used," Derek pleaded of Scott.

"And how the hell am I supposed to do that?" Scott questioned reluctantly.

"She's an Argent," Derek referred to Allison, making Celeste bristle slightly in the back seat at the mention of her friend being involved, "She's with them."

"Why should I help you?" Scott asked, earning him a shocked look from Celeste.

"Because it's the right thing to do, Scott," she said obviously, holding the boy in slight contempt.

"Because you need me," Derek tried, playing to Scott's more selfish desires.

"Fine," Scott relented as Stiles flung himself haphazardly into the car, "I'll try. Get him out of here."

"I hate you for this, so much," Stiles groaned, but started the car anyways.

"I guess Bob and his burgers are going to have to wait," Celeste sighed, resting her still pounding head against the window.

☾ ☽

"Stiles," Celeste snatched the boy's phone out of his hand, "no texting and driving. Have those counterproductively distracting billboards taught you nothing?"

"Alright, jeez woman," Stiles complained, while Derek just glowered into the distance and tried not to die, "just ask Scott if he's found the bullet yet."

Celeste obeyed, typing in the words, and amused herself with the artificial clicking noises that emitted from the touch screen phone.

"What are you doing?" Stiles laughed at her as Celeste began typing random letters to hear the sound.

"Not you," Celeste snorted at her own joke, too busy glaring at Derek's eye roll to notice Stiles' pout.

Celeste looked down at the 'ping' that resonated from the phone's tiny speakers.

"Scotty says he needs more time," she chirped.

"C'mon," Stiles groaned, before facing Derek, "Hey, try not to bleed out on my seats, okay? We're almost there."

"Stiles," Celeste seethed at his apathy, flicking the back of his head.

"Almost where?" Derek rasped out.

"Your house?" Stiles asked as if it should have been obvious.

"What if hunters come?" Celeste frowned, "Or the Alpha? He wouldn't be able to defend himself."

"Yeah," Derek agreed weakly, "You can't take me there."

"I can't take you to your own house?" Stiles asked incredulously, but deep down he knew they were right.

"Not when I can't protect myself," Derek pointed out in annoyance, as if he were talking to an especially difficult three year old.

Stiles pulled over suddenly, and Celeste groaned, knowing he was about to go on a rant.

"What happens if Scott doesn't find your little magic bullet?" Stiles demanded, waving his arms around spastically, "Hm? Are you dying?"

"I, uh," Derek managed to pant out, "I have a last resort."

"What do you mean?" Stiles shout-asked, "What last resort?"

Derek slowly pulled up the sleeve of his Henley to reveal a gory wound, complete with seeping blood and pulsating black veins crawling up his arm.

"Oh my god," Stiles gagged, "What is that? Is that contagious? You know, you should probably just get out."

"I think your attitude needs to get out," Celeste defended Derek, trying her hardest not to react to the garish wound.

"Start the car," Derek demanded, "now."

"I don't think you should be barking orders," Stiles said, Celeste rolling her eyes at their testosterone induced rivalry, "with the way you look, okay? In fact, I think if I wanted to I could probably drag your little werewolf ass out into the middle of the road and leave you for dead."

"Stiles what the hell?" Celeste was once again shocked at the malice of her friend, "He's severely injured. Why are you acting so violent?"

"In biology you told me if I didn't stop tapping my foot you were going to make soup out of blood drained from my jugular," Stiles pointed out.

"Semantics," Celeste scoffed.

"Start the car," Derek interrupted their spat, "or I'm gonna rip your throat out. With my teeth."

Stiles started the car.

"Are you sure you two aren't related?" Stiles grumbled, glancing at Celeste in the rearview mirror.

☾ ☽

"Has Scott responded yet?" Stiles asked Celeste as darkness began to blanket Beacon Hills.

"Nope," Celeste popped the 'p' as she spoke, "I've been sending him gifs of puppies wearing hats for the past hour and no dice."

"Well send him more hat puppies, dammit," Stiles pounded his hands on the steering wheel of the car, glancing at Derek uneasily.

Derek's condition was worsening by the minute, as made apparent by the pink tone behind his skin fading and sweat that clung to his skin like cellophane.

Celeste bit her lip nervously, texting Scott again to update him on the situation.

She looked back at Derek, who had grasped his arm with a sharp intake of breath.

She rested a hand on his shoulder gently, looking at him in earnest.

"He'll find it," Celeste tried to comfort him, even though she knew her heartbeat told a different story, "I'm sure of it."

The man glanced back at her, letting out a grimace that somewhat resembled a smile.

"Tell Scott to call me," Stiles interrupted their moment with an odd scowl.

Celeste nodded, leaning back in her seat and sending a simple 'McCall me'.

"Why hasn't he called?" Stiles asked impatiently with a huff two seconds later.

"Chill dude," Celeste raised a brow at his antsy behavior, "it had to send cancer causing waves through the electromagnetic field and reach him first."

"Well tell the waves to hurry," Stiles demanded uselessly.

Celeste was about to tell him to tell his face to hurry when Animal by Pearl Jam started blasting through on Stiles' phone.

"Scotty, hey," Celeste said casually, "how are things going with Allison?"

"Uh, good," Scott's disembodied voice replied, "it's her dad I'm worried about."

"Well that's to be expected," Celeste chatted, "but as long as-,"

"Give me the damn phone," Stiles snapped.

"Rude," Celeste huffed, "pull over first."

Stiles groaned obnoxiously but did as he was told.

Once they had pulled on to the side of the deserted road, he grabbed the phone from her and smashed it against his ear.

"He can hear you anyways," Celeste muttered bitterly, "You didn't have to be such a horse radish about it."

Derek nodded his agreement.

"What am I supposed to do with him?" Stiles ignored them.

Celeste could faintly make out Scott's muffled voice crackle through the speaker.

"And by the way," Stiles whined, "He's starting to smell. Like death."

"Shut up," Celeste narrowed her eyes, "You smell like death. As in your attitude is dead. Get out."

"What about your boss?" Stiles asked into the phone, while simultaneously flicking Celeste off.

"God," Stiles sighed after a reasonably long pause, "you're not gonna believe where he's telling me to take you."

"Did you find it?" Derek asked into the phone he had snatched from Stiles moments ago.

Celeste leaned forward, wishing she had werewolf hearing.

"Look," Derek gave Scott an ultimatum, "if you don't find it, I'm dead. Alright?"

"Then think about this," Derek snapped, leading Celeste to believe Scott had said something rude again, "The Alpha called you out against your will. He's gonna do it again. Next time, you either kill with him, or you get killed. So if you wanna stay alive, then you need me. Find the bullet."

"Nice delivery," Celeste complimented as Stiles started up the car again, "very believable."

"So," Stiles drawled out, "you guys want to listen to some music for the road? I have the entire soundtrack from Wicked on CD."

"Oh," Celeste perked up, "play Popular. That song is iconic."

"No," Derek growled, causing them both to flinch back, "play Defying Gravity."

☾ ☽

Stiles pulled up the metal gate dividing the trio from the Beacon Hills Animal Clinic, while Celeste did her best to support a struggling Derek.

As they moved forward, Stiles' phone pinged from his jacket pocket and he dug it out with an exaggerated breath.

"Here," Celeste smiled at Derek softly, helping him gently sit down on a pile of dog food bags before sitting next to him.

"Does Nordic Blue Monkshood mean anything to you?" Stiles asked Derek dryly, reading off of his phone.

"It's a rare form of wolfsbane," Derek tensed beside Celeste, as if he were expecting this, "He needs to bring me the bullet."

"Why?" Stiles asked, his curiosity shining through his fear of Derek.

"Because I'm gonna die without it," Derek replied dramatically.

"Well, okay, alright," Stiles muttered to himself, angrily typing out a message on his phone.

"Let's just go inside," Celeste grimaced, she and Stiles helping Derek to his feet.

"We can go back here," Celeste continued, leading them to the back room with the mental map she had acquired after working in the clinic, "there are supplies we can use to clean your wound."

"I need to do a lot more than clean it," Derek looked forward in determination, tugging off his shirt and showing off his taut muscles and a beautiful tattoo on his upper back that had three spirals.

"Okay," Stiles said dryly as he pulled open the door, obviously uncomfortable with Derek's half nudity.

Derek leaned on the metal surgical table, panting and holding out a quickly worsening wound.

"You know," Stiles said, disgust lacing his tone, "that really doesn't look like anything some Echinacea and a good night's sleep couldn't take care of."

"When the infection reaches my heart," Derek reiterated, his jaw clenched tightly as he bore through the pain, "it'll kill me."

"Positivity just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?" Stiles quipped sarcastically.

"Is shutting up in yours?" Celeste snapped, too worried about Derek to think of a better comeback.

"If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time," Derek breathed out, rummaging through Deaton's drawers, "last resort."

"Which is?" Stiles pried.

"You're gonna cut off my arm," Derek said seriously, brandishing a hand saw around casually.

Stiles blinked.

Derek grabbed a blue elastic band, shoving the saw across the table to Stiles and tying the band around the top of his bicep like a makeshift tourniquet while Celeste looked on in horror.

"Oh my god," Stiles stuttered out as Celeste folded into herself, a bundle of nerves, "What if you bleed to death?"

"It'll heal if it works," Derek growled out, merely glancing at Stiles as he prepared himself.

"Look," Stiles looked like he was about to throw up, "I don't know if I can do this."

"Why not?" Derek snapped, as if amputating a limb was the easiest thing in the world.

"Well," Stiles started listing things off, "because of the cutting of the flesh, the sawing of the bone, and especially the blood."

"You faint at the sight of blood?" Derek asked incredulously, regarding Stiles as though he were gum on the bottom of his shoe.

"No," Stiles protested, "but I might at the sight of a chopped off arm."

"All right, fine. How about this?" Derek glowered, "Either you cut off my arm, or I'm gonna cut off your head."

"Okay," Stiles scoffed, "You know, I'm so not buying your threats anymo-,"

Derek grabbed Stiles by the collar, and pulled him in close. He whispered something menacingly in Stiles' ear.

"Oh my god, okay, fine," Stiles griped, glancing over at Celeste uneasily, "bought, sold, totally."

Derek was about to respond, when suddenly he tensed up considerably, leaning over the side of the table and throwing up what looked like thick, black tar everywhere.

"Holy god," Stiles looked like he was near tears, "What the hell is that?"

"My body," Derek forced out, keeling over as Celeste hesitantly rubbed his back to try and soothe him, "is trying to heal itself."

"Well it's not doing a very good job of it," Stiles gagged, earning a glare from Celeste.

"Now," Derek breathed out, "you gotta do it now."

"Look honestly I don't think I can," Stiles whimpered, cringing at the stressful situation.

"Just do it," Derek quoted Shia LaBeouf loudly.

"Oh my god, okay," Stiles winced, starting up the saw with a whir, "okay."

"Alright, here we go," Stiles held the saw to Derek's flesh reluctantly, Celeste looking away in fear.

"Stiles?" A familiar voice called out, and Celeste could have cried in relief, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Oh you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares," Stiles grinned thankfully, letting out an almost hysterical laugh.

"Did you get it?" Derek asked desperately, his face pressed against the metal table to feel its coolness against his burning skin.

Scott dug an oblong bullet out of his front pocket, handing it hastily to the older werewolf.

"What are you gonna do with it?" Stiles wondered aloud.

"I'm gonna," Derek rasped out unsteadily, "I'm gonna-,"

His words were cut off as he fainted, hitting the floor with a bang as Celeste cried out. The bullet went clamoring down a drain under a table of medical supplies.

"Derek?" Stiles knelt beside Celeste, where she was patting the passed out werewolf's cheeks gently, "Derek, c'mon, wake up."

"Scott, what the hell are we gonna do?" Stiles asked when they got no response.

"I don't know," Scott retorted in a panic from where he was trying to fish the bullet out of the drain, "I can't reach it."

"He's not waking up," Stiles grimaced, though he seemed more concerned about Celeste than Derek, "I think he's dying, I think he's dead."

"Okay, just hold on," Scott snapped anxiously.

Celeste faintly felt tightness in her chest, and the tips of her fingers tingled warmly, but she was too focused on Derek to care.

"I got it," Scott called, rushing over with relief clear in his voice, "I got it."

"Please don't kill me for this," Stiles groaned, and Celeste flinched instinctively as he drew his arm back and punched Derek square in the face.

Celeste was pretty sure it had hurt Stiles more than Derek, but the latter shot up with a gasp nevertheless.

He grabbed the bullet from Scott as the three teens helped him up.

He, rather impressively, ripped the tip of the bullet off with his teeth, scraping the powder that came out into a small pile. Out of nowhere, he pulled out a suitably black lighter setting the powder alight.

Blue smoke wisped up from the pile in tendrils, and Derek scooped up the burning wolfsbane and shoved it into the hole of his wound, making all three teens wince sympathetically.

Derek screamed in agony, collapsing onto the floor again with an intense growl. Celeste looked on with bated breath, exhaling when the black veins began to recede and his wound healed.

"That was awesome," Stiles fist pumped, earning a side eye from both Scott and Celeste, "yes."

"Are you okay?" Scott asked as Celeste offered her hand to Derek to help him up.

"Except for the agonizing pain," Derek spoke sardonically, earning a snort from Celeste.

"I'm guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health," Stiles replied to his sarcasm with more sarcasm.

"Okay, we saved your life," Scott spoke up as Celeste untied the tourniquet from Derek's arm, "which means you're gonna leave us alone."

"You got that?" he continued, pulling Celeste away from Derek's side and to his own as he spoke, "And if you don't, I'm gonna go back to Allison's dad and I'm gonna tell him everything-,"

"You're gonna trust them?" Derek interrupted with a snarl, "You think they can help you?"

"Why not?" Scott demanded, "They're a lot freaking nicer than you are."

"I can show you exactly how nice they are," Derek scoffed, showing off his bunny teeth for a millisecond.

"What do you mean?" Scott asked hesitantly.

Derek only rolled his eyes, grabbing Scott by his collar and pulling him towards the door.

"Derek," Celeste called after them in amusement, holding out a ball of black fabric, "your shirt."

Derek only grunted, grabbing the shirt from her, but Celeste could see a faint dusting of a blush across his cheeks.

The two werewolves left, leaving Stiles and Celeste alone.

"So," Stiles drawled out, rapping his knuckled on the metal table, "wanna go get some pizza?"

"Are you kidding me?" Celeste narrowed her eyes, causing Stiles to pale, "Of course I want to go get some pizza."

Stiles relaxed, shooting her a grin.

"Yep," he blabbered, "Yes. Let us go get some pizza. Platonic pizza. We don't even have to get toppings. Very casual."

"Okay," Celeste peered at him questioningly, "just let me clean up this stuff that I'm pretending is black paint and not infected Derek blood."

"Sure, that's cool," Stiles nodded jerkily, resting his arm above his head on the door frame in an attempt to seem casual, "totally cool. What a cool customer."

"You're really freaking weird," Celeste quoted him teasingly, "You know that?"

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

Celeste is such a mom lmao.

I put an entire episode into one chapter because if I'm honest season one is pretty tedious to write. I'm so excited to develop Celeste as a character in later seasons.

To be honest I could have updated earlier but I've been playing Animal Crossing New Leaf.

Well that's all for now folks.

Stay hydrated,

-Belle xx