I do not own Teen Wolf or any of its characters. I only own Celeste. If I did I would actually explore Scott's heritage more bc representation is important people!

Song - Attica '71 // Olivver

Celeste's POV

"Sorry," Stiles ran his hand through his closely shaved hair, "you're getting visions?"

Celeste sighed, looking for the right words to explain a concept which she barely understood herself. She had just gotten through stuttering out a rushed recap of her general mental state since coming to the enigmatic town of Beacon Hills.

"No, not really," Celeste tried, pink dusting her cheeks as Stiles grabbed her hand in support from his position next to her on his bedroom floor, "they're more like feelings, I guess. Sometimes they're so overwhelming that it's like I'm transported to another atmosphere, and when I return to reality I've written some cryptic kind of free verse poetry. Without even knowing."

"Do, uh," Stiles looked at her apprehensively, not wanting to push the obviously uncomfortable girl "do you have them? The poems?"

Celeste hesitated briefly, but decided ultimately that the circumstances took precedence over her unfounded issues with showing people her writing. Besides, she trusted Stiles.

She ducked her head down insecurely as she rummaged through her bag and pulled out her beloved journal, handing it to Stiles reluctantly.

"Just these two," Celeste hovered nervously, flipping hurriedly over her other works and to her two most recent entries.

Stiles mulled over the writings, his eyebrows pulled together cutely as he concentrated on his analyzation.

She meant cute in a completely, platonically objective way, of course.

"When did you write this first one?" the male asked suddenly, and Celeste looked up in thought.

"The night before Lydia's party, I think," Celeste hadn't exactly been keeping track of time with everything that had been going on.

Stiles let out a 'hm' and nodded to himself, skimming over the more recent of the two again.

"And the second?" He asked gently.

"The night of the bus attack," Celeste spoke with a more definitive tone, "I remember that one because it kept me up basically all night."

"Is it possible that the first one is about the night when Scott was attacked by hunters?" Stiles jerked forward as he made the realization, "Argent is French for silver, right? You talk about silver a lot. Plus, Derek told Scott they were brothers. You refer to brothers in this, and Derek helped him that night."

Celeste frowned in thought, grabbing the journal from him and reading it over.

"And the second one," he continued, looking over her shoulder, "it could be about the attack on the bus. The martyr is Mr. Meyers, the protector is Scott, and the predator is the Alpha."

"Stiles," Celeste had reached past the point of worry and had moved on to dread, "I wrote these before those events happened."

"Crazier things have happened to us," Stiles rationalized, attempting weakly to make this revelation seem less ludicrous in his friend's eyes.

"So, what?" Celeste looked up at him with big, fearful eyes, "I'm predicting the future now?"

"More like prophesizing it."

☾ ☽

"Celeste?" Deaton popped his head through the archway to watch as Celeste fed a friendly Pitbull who had to stay overnight for surgery at the animal clinic, "Do you happen to know where Scott is?"

"No, sir," Celeste frowned, patting her new furry friend, Charlie, as she spoke, "I'm sorry."

"That's quite alright," Deaton smiled, but worry was evident on his wise face, "I'll just call him."

Celeste nodded, but her polite smile vanished as soon as Deaton turned the corner. She understood him skipping school, she would too if her mom wouldn't crazy psycho murder her for it. However, skipping work simply wasn't in Scott's character description.

The rational part of her mind was trying to convince her that her friend was fine, but some section of her subconscious was plucking the strings of worry in her brain incessantly.

"It's not like I've written a decree of his death in blood or anything," she muttered bitterly to Charlie, but stopped when she realized he wasn't going to answer her.

"You were pretty certain the other day about our attacker being a mountain lion?" Celeste heard a familiar voice speaking to Deaton in the other room.

"That's right," Deaton confirmed as Celeste stepped out and made herself known.

The pair smiled chastely at her as she casually walked past under the intention of organizing the medical supplies, secretly listening to their every word.

"I want to show you something," the Sheriff returned to his conversation, sifting through an evidence file, "We got a little lucky here. The video store didn't have any cameras, but a security camera that was watching another parking lot happened to grab a few frames. Take a look at our mountain lion."

"It's interesting," Deaton mused, and Celeste craned her neck to see a grainy picture of a large, black blur that she knew to be the Alpha exiting the video store.

The photo was peculiar enough to raise questions, but nothing damning.

"Actually," Sheriff Stilinski placed a final photograph of the metal exam table that just days before had harbored a dying Derek Hale, "this is the interesting one."

Celeste gasped at what she saw, but covered it up with a cough. They had captured a blurred snapshot of the Alpha, running away on two feet.

☾ ☽

"Does your dad know you have those case files?" Celeste inquired into the computer, "Actually, better question. How did you get those case files at all?"

Celeste had Skyped Stiles to inform him of the police's findings the minute she had gotten home from work, but he of course already knew. In fact, he had moved on to a much older case. The Hale house fire, to be exact.

"How do any of us get anything?" Stiles evaded, rubbing the back of his neck in a sheepish manner.

"Okay, calm down Socrates," Celeste snorted, but she was curious nevertheless, "What did you find?"

"It wasn't an accident," Stiles smiled triumphantly when she gave in, "It was arson."

"God," Celeste breathed out, running a hand through her hair, "Derek really can't catch a break."

Celeste had really grown to care about the cactus-like man, especially since they had started her training. 

They had only had one session so far, which comprised of far too many push-ups, some very bruised knuckles, and a rather embarrassing moment when Celeste actually managed to punch herself in the face. She did manage to learn to always keep her thumbs inside her fist, though, even if it was the hard way.

"They never solved it, obviously," Stiles rambled on, "And get this. All the deaths so far? The victims were involved in this case in some way."

"Jinkies," Celeste fell back in her desk chair, "I guess we found motive."

"That's the thing," Stiles looked at her in earnest, "everyone except for Derek died in that fire."

"Oh my god," Celeste groaned in annoyance, "stop implying that its Derek. We literally have proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Alpha is not Derek."

"I know, he just gives me the heebie jeebies," Stiles mumbled, "besides, who else do we know of that would have the motive?"

"That's the problem," Celeste snapped suddenly, too distraught to even comment on Stiles' use of 'heebie jeebies', "We don't know. We don't know anything."

"Woah," Stiles was quick to realize that they weren't talking about the Alpha anymore, "we're gonna figure it out, okay? We'll find a way. If we can deal with our friend becoming a crazy psycho murdering wolf every two seconds, we can deal with you having a few episodes that result in really good poetry."

Celeste appreciated the way Stiles was attempting to make her situation seem normalized, but she knew there was nothing normal about glowing silver eyes and cryptic fortune telling writings.

"I have to go," Celeste hung up abruptly, hearing her mother's footsteps approaching outside her door and signaling that she was back from the parent-teacher conferences.

For once, she was grateful for the sound.

She jumped as she heard soft, but firm knocks on her bedroom door, bracing herself for the worst.

"If Harris said anything about me," Celeste spoke in a wavering tone, "he was probably exaggerating. I swear I haven't been misbehaving."

"Actually," Celeste's mother stepped into the room, "your teachers had nothing but glowing praise for you. Excellent grades, perfect behavior, exquisite work ethic. Harris himself spoke very highly of your potential."

"Okay," Celeste spoke a little shrilly, waiting for the bad news.

She couldn't think of another reason her mom would be interacting with her.

"Nice work," her mother cleared her throat awkwardly.

Celeste could only gape at her.

The woman sighed tiredly, glancing at her timid daughter once more before silently stepping back into the hallway and shutting the door softly behind her.

Celeste had no time to mull over this odd exchange, because the familiar chime of an incoming Skype call beckoned her.

Scott's generic profile picture of himself kneeling in his maroon lacrosse gear on the field popped up.

"What's new, Scooby Doo?" Celeste chirped after accepting, but frowned when she noticed his disheveled demeanor, "Woah, what's wrong?"

"I messed up, Cel," Scott raked a hand through his Muppet hair.

"Oh god," Celeste's heart sped up exponentially, "who did you kill? It's okay, I've been preparing for this. I know a guy that can get us access to an incinerator-,"

"What?" Scott widened his eyes comically, "No. I didn't kill anyone."

"Oh," Celeste laughed awkwardly.

"How do you know a guy- never mind. You're Celeste. Of course you do," Scott conversed with himself.

"What did you do?" Celeste tried to push the discussion off of herself.

Scott let out a deep sigh, before launching into the story of how he skipped school with Allison, saved Allison from getting run over, failed to save Stiles' dad from getting run over, saw Chris Argent murder an innocent mountain lion, and now had to do the grocery shopping for a month.

"Well," Celeste breathed out dramatically, "It seems that you are in a pickle, my friend."

"So you don't hate me?" Scott asked hopefully.

"Of course not," Celeste assured him.

"I just figured you'd be mad at me for not saving Stiles' dad," Scott muttered, "I know Stiles is."

"I'm not mad," Celeste used her mothering tone, "I'm just disappointed."

"But that's even worse," Scott whined, looking like Celeste had just whacked him on the nose with a rolled up newspaper.

"Scott," Celeste put gently, "You didn't ask for any of this. I know that, but it happened. It sucks, but sometimes we just have to take whatever sadistic, unfair crap life throws out way and spin it in a way that helps us instead of hurts us. When life gives you lemons, you know?"

"I just," Scott sighed, "I just don't know how I'm supposed to deal with any of this. It's not fair."

"You don't have to like it, but you're all tied up in this now. You have to find a way to make the best of it, you have to find a way to capitalize on what you have been given," Celeste preached, "Stiles has done nothing but be there for you, and tonight you weren't there for him when he needed you. I'm not saying you don't have pure intentions; I'm just saying that you need more than intentions. You need actions."

"Since when did you get so great at giving advice?" Scott seemed to relax as Celeste rationalized his scattered situation for him.

"Since you started needing it," Celeste smiled back at him softly.

"I'm really glad we trusted you," Scott smiled dopily at his newest friend.

"Just remember, with great power comes great responsibility," Celeste quoted Ben Parker.

"Oh my god," Scott groaned, "You just had to ruin a nice moment by being a super nerd."

"I'm hanging up now," Celeste pouted, but she wasn't really offended.

"Hey Celeste?" Scott looked at her sincerely, "Thanks.

"Don't mention it, Rover."

☾ ☽

"Money is just a social construct, Lydia," Celeste chatted with her friend when the strawberry blonde commented that the thrift shopping trend was 'an attempt by poor college aged hipsters to tarnish the otherwise sparkling timeline of fashion through the ages', "Also, I got the sweater I'm wearing from Goodwill."

"Yes, well," Lydia sniffed as they reached their lockers, "you could make the same argument about time, and time is a mechanism used to explain the linear progression of evolution. You can't just invalidate things because they were created by society."

"Good point," Celeste awarded her, "but you're failing to recognize that while time was created from already present factors, money was birthed from the desire to control and civilize the human race. It is a creation made solely from human's desire to possess, rather than having elemental origins."

"Touché," Lydia sighed contentedly, feeling refreshed as she held an intellectually stimulating conversation for the first time in ages, "I miss you. I feel like we haven't hung out in forever."

"Lydia," Celeste laughed as she entered her combination, "we were together watching Clueless last night."

"Still," the lighter-haired girl pursed her full lips, "it's like your mind has been somewhere else lately. Best friend time soon?"

"Of course," Celeste grinned, feeling a pang of guilt for being a neglectful friend, "what about tonight?"

"I can't tonight," Lydia huffed in annoyance, "I promised Jackson I'd watch his idiotic sports movie with him because of everything he's been through lately."

"You're very generous," Celeste replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I know," Lydia chirped, before spotting a distressed looking Hispanic boy wandering stiffly down the hallway, "Hey Scott."

"Come on," Scott groaned and hurried away, causing Lydia to let out an offended 'harrumph' and Celeste to cackle.

Celeste knew Derek had told Scott to stay away from Allison and all Allison-affiliated people, but he seemed to be taking it to the extreme.

"Whatever," Lydia brushed off his brush-off, "I'm going to be late for Archaic Latin. Bye bitch, love you."

"Love you too, Lydia," Celeste smiled in amusement before the two girls parted ways, and Celeste headed to A.P. World History.

Stiles was fidgeting with his mechanical pencil when Celeste walked in, and he brightened considerably when she slipped into the seat beside him.

"Hey," he spoke softly, as if her were talking to an injured gazelle, "how are you doing?"

"Fine," Celeste brushed over his inquiries with a slight smile, not finding the idea of discussing her issues in the middle of class at all desirable, "how's your dad?"

Stiles was about to respond, but his soft expression turned grumpy as Scott entered the room, and the two best friends had an awkward staring match.

"Don't be too hard on him, yeah?" Celeste asked of Stiles gently, earning herself a huff from him.

"You're supposed to be on my side," he whined childishly.

"I am, always," Celeste assured him, "but Scott is scared, and confused, and he needs his best friend. You know he feels terrible."

Stiles pouted at her, knowing she was right. She knew he would be too stubborn to admit it right away, though.

"Still not talking to me?" Scott asked as he took his designated seat behind Stiles.

Celeste imagined cricket noises as the teen wolf was greeted with tension filled silence.

"Can you at least tell me if your dad is okay?" Scott sighed, "I mean, it's just a bruise, right? Some soft tissue damage? Nothing that big?"

Stiles poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue sassily.

"You know I feel really bad about it, right?" Scott tried.

Stiles' eye twitched.

"Okay, what if I told you I'm trying to figure this whole thing out?" Scott glanced at Celeste, remembering her words of advice, "That I went to Derek for help?"

Celeste gave Stiles a pointed look, and he huffed, giving in to her words slightly.

"Celeste," Stiles spoke haughtily, "could you please tell Scott that he's an idiot for trusting him?"

"I'm not an owl," Celeste laughed at her own Harry Potter reference, "but really, I'm not doing that."

The bell rang, and Celeste could see Stiles fidgeting anxiously.

"What did he say?" Stiles exploded, turning around.

Celeste sighed in relief as order was restored again.

☾ ☽

"Wh- he wants you to tap into your animal side and get angry?" Stiles asked in disbelief as they exited the classroom, and even Celeste had to admit that the plan sounded sketchy.

"Yeah," Scott confirmed.

"Alright, well correct me if I'm wrong, but every time you try to do that, you try to kill someone," Stiles shuffled closer to Celeste, "and that someone is usually me."

"I know," Scott sounded frustrated, "that's what he means when he says he doesn't know if he can teach me. I have to be able to control it."

"How's he gonna teach you to do that?" Stiles demanded.

"I don't know," Scott sighed, "I don't think he does either."

"Okay," Stiles threw his head back exasperatedly, "when are you seeing him again?"

"He told me not to talk about it," Scott muttered, "just to act normal and get through the day."

"What does normal even entail anymore?" Celeste pondered aimlessly.

"When?" Stiles put a hand on Scott's shoulder to stop him, causing Celeste to promptly run into Stiles.

"He's picking me up at the animal clinic after work," Scott admitted.

"After work, alright," Stiles had his thinking face on, "well, that gives Celeste and I 'till the end of the school day then."

"To do what?" Scott was confused, as usual.

"To teach you ourselves," Stiles flung an arm around Celeste's shoulders.

"Oh yeah," Celeste muttered sarcastically as Stiles pulled her along to their next class, "I'm totally in. Thank you for asking my opinion, means a lot."

☾ ☽

"The what of who?" Lydia frowned as Allison, Celeste, and herself sat together in the noisy school lunchroom.

Jackson had led the rest of Lydia's usual clique to another table, knowing that his girlfriend was in no condition to answer questions about the video store no matter how good of a front she put up, so the trio was sitting alone.

"The Beast of Gevaudan," Allison repeated herself, animatedly describing a myth from her family history inscribed in a book clutched in the girl's hands, "listen. 'A quadruped wolf-like monster, prowling the Auvergne and South Dordogne areas of France during the years 1764 to 1767. La Bete killed over a hundred people, becoming so infamous that the King Louie the 15th sent one of his best hunters to try and kill it.'"

"Boring," Lydia brandished her fork like a scepter, but Celeste stiffened at the relevance of Allison's story.

"Shut up, Lyds," Celeste nudged her, "Allison, go on, this is interesting."

"Even the church eventually declared the monster a messenger of Satan."

"Still boring," Lydia decided, but Celeste nodded in interest, which spurred Allison to continue.

"'Cryptozoologists believe it may have been a subspecies of hoofed predator, possibly a mesonychid.'"

"Slipping into a coma bored," Lydia drawled out, delicately biting into a piece of lettuce.

"'While others believe it was a powerful sorcerer who could shape-shift into a man eating monster,'" Allison ignored her.

Celeste choked on her water.

"Any of this have anything to do with your family?" Lydia brushed past the comparison naively.

"This," Allison leaned forward, "'It is believed that La Bete was finally trapped and killed by a renowned hunter who claimed his wife and four kids were the first to fall prey to the creature. His name was Argent.'"

"Your ancestors killed a big wolf," Lydia spoke in a dull tone, but Celeste was practically having an aneurysm, "So what?"

"Not just a big wolf," Allison flattened the book on the table and turned it towards Lydia and Celeste, "Take a look at this picture. What does that look like to you?"

Allison's two friends fell silent as they took in the ominous, smoke clouded figure of a beast with glowing red eyes.

"Lydia?" Allison asked in concern as the girl took on a dazed expression, "Lydia."

"It looks like a big wolf," Lydia said bluntly, "see you in History."

With that, the strawberry blonde abruptly got up from the table and strutted out of the lunchroom.

"What do you think, Cel?" Allison rolled her eyes at what she presumed to be disinterest on Lydia's behalf.

"I think Stiles is calling me over," Celeste improvised, feeling her chest constrict in worry as she gave Allison an apologetic smile and made her way to Stiles and Scott, who was hiding obviously behind a World History textbook.

"Hey," Stiles greeted her, Scott only giving her a nervous smile, "what's up?"

"Gas prices," she replied solemnly as she sat next to her flannel clad friend.

"Did you come up with a plan yet?" Scott peered over his textbook precariously as Celeste took one of Stiles' fries.

"Think so," Stiles spoke shortly, and Celeste could feel tension still present between her brotp.

"Does that mean you don't hate me now?" Scott asked timidly as Stiles bit into his apple in the sassiest way possible.

"No," Stiles spoke bluntly, "but your crap has infiltrated my life, so now I have to do something about it."

"Can you guys just hug it out or something?" Celeste sighed in frustration, "I hate it when my ships fight."

"What did I tell you about your ships?" Stiles chastised.

"That they're unrealistic and make things weird in normal human society," Celeste grumbled begrudgingly.

"Plus," Stiles moved back to his original conversation, "I make a much better Yoda than Derek."

"Yeah," Scott nodded from behind his little textbook barricade, "you teach me."

"Yeah," Stiles reiterated for no reason, "I'll be your Yoda."

"Yeah," Scott grew slightly confused, "you be my Yoda."

"Your Yoda I will be," Stiles grinned to himself, causing Celeste to giggle-snort at his terrible impression.

"I said it backwards," Stiles explained when Scott didn't laugh, his chest swelling with pride at Celeste's reaction.

"Yeah, I know," Scott told him.

"Alright, you know what? I definitely still hate you," Stiles stood up, dragging Celeste with him, "Uh-huh. Oh yeah."

"I'm starting to feel like a pawn in a much bigger game," Celeste whispered to herself, but allowed Stiles to drag her away.

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

I never have anything to say here.

I will be editing this story soon, probably, maybe, if Gotham doesn't distract me. Which it probably will.

Okay seriously that's it I hope you all have a superbly jubilant day full of puppies and happiness.

Stay Hydrated,

-Belle xx