HELLO MY LITTLE GARBANZO BEANS!!! I don't know why I called you Garbanzo beans. That was weird. Sorry. ANYWAYS, SORRY FOR SELF PROMO-ING BUT IF YOU LIKE ARROW AND THE FLASH, PLEASE CONSIDER READING MY NEW STORY, SERENDIPITY.

I solemnly swear ((that I am up to no good)) not to let that story alter how frequently I update this one.

I do not own Teen Wolf or any of its characters. I only own Celeste. If I did I would just make Lydia happy she's so burdened my little angel.

Song - Tiptoe Through the Tulips // Tiny Tim

Celeste's POV

The Alpha was a little bitch.

This was the conclusion that Celeste came to as the paramedic was rubbing a thousand tiny swords onto each and every single one of her cuts.

It was actually just rubbing alcohol, but the same principles applied.

With this in mind, she politely rejected further treatment, removed the itchy shock blanket from her arms, and made her way over to her friends.

"Hello, not dead people," she spoke cheerfully, trying to make light of the situation.

Stiles immediately pulled her into his side, and the two faced Scott with expressions of relief.

"Well, we survived," Stiles matched Celeste's attitude, "You know? We outlasted the Alpha. That's good, right? Being alive?"

"When we were in the chemistry room, it walked right by us," Scott pointed out, causing Celeste to frown, "You don't think that it heard us? You don't think that it knew exactly where we were?"

"Well then how come we're still alive?" Stiles brought up.

"Plot development?" Celeste tried.

"It wants me in its pack," Scott said, a little too loudly, "but, I think first I have to get rid of my old pack."

"What do you mean?" Stiles was a little slow on the uptake, "What old pack?"

"Allison, Jackson, Lydia," Scott listed, wincing a little before continuing, "you guys."

"Okay," Celeste spoke up, "now would probably be a really bad time to mention that I'm excited to have friends for once."

Stiles patted her on the head.

"The Alpha doesn't want to kill us," Stiles coaxed Scott to continue.

"He wants me to do it," Scott turned away, as if he should be ashamed, "and that's not even the worst part."

"How in holy hell is that not the worst part, Scott?" Celeste thought Stiles may have been a little confused on how hell worked.

"Because when he made me shift," Scott admitted, "I wanted to do it. I wanted to kill you. All of you."

"But you didn't, Scotty," Celeste grabbed his hand comfortingly, "You controlled it."

Scott sent a sad smile her way, before his expression changed as he looked over his shoulder.

Stiles and Celeste followed his gaze to see Deaton sitting in the back of an ambulance.

Celeste was going to follow them over, when she was met with the fiery glare of her mother.

She would rather have taken her chances with the Alpha.

☾ ☽

WARNING!! TAG WARNING!! MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE LAY AHEAD. IF THIS WILL TRIGGER YOU, PLEASE SKIP AHEAD TO THE NEXT BOLDED WORDS. ALSO, PLEASE FEEL FREE TO MESSAGE ME IF YOU NEED TO TALK. I LOVE YOU ALL. STAY STRONG.

When Celeste entered the car with her mother, she expected the worst. She expected screaming, she expected pain, she expected words that would haunt her in her dreams.

What she didn't expect was silence.

All the way back to her house, she was enveloped in a deathly quiet. She felt as though someone had pressed mute on her life.

By the time they pulled into the driveway, Celeste was beginning to think she had gotten off scotch free.

And then, her mother turned to her, smiled lightly and opened her mouth.

"How about I whip us up some spaghetti?"

Celeste looked at her mom in surprise, scampering after her like a lost little lamb as her mother opened the door to their home, stepping in.

"Uh," Celeste stuttered out, "Yeah, okay. Sure."

Her mother took off her coat, hanging it on the rack. Celeste followed her to the kitchen, highly confused.

The woman took out a large bowl, setting it over a low flame on the stove top.

"How about some tea?" she asked calmly, "For your nerves?"

"Thank you, that sounds nice," Celeste didn't really like tea, but she thought it best not to refuse her mother right now.

She began to relax as her mom filled up the kettle and placed it over another burner on the stove.

"I just," Celeste hesitated, "You're not mad?"

"Oh sweetie," her mother smiled, "I'm just glad you're okay."

Celeste felt her heart swell with hope at her words, she felt the joy of her mother's acceptance.

******Start playing the music in the sidebar now, if you want******

The brunette woman kept an old radio on the countertop, and she switched it on.

Tiptoe Through the Tulips began to play, and her mother sighed in content.

"Darling, would you be a dear and help me with this spaghetti?" she asked sweetly.

"Of course," Celeste smiled, entering the kitchen.

"Where is the spa-,"

Her words were cut off by her mother shoving her daughter's entire hand into the boiling pot of water.

The kettle started screaming at the same time Celeste did.

Celeste was thrashing, tears pouring from her eyes like waterfalls.

She struggled, but her mother's grip was strong.

The woman kept a serene smile on her face, humming along to the radio.

Celeste was in excruciating pain until the song faded away, and her mother let her go.

"Oh dear," her mother said, straightening her skirt and observing Celeste's puckered, burning flesh, "You should run that under some cold water. It looks rather painful."

OKAY IT IS OVER. ALL YOU MISSED IS THAT CELESTE'S MOM IS A PSYCHOPATH.

☾ ☽

Celeste was having trouble breathing.

Her makeup was smeared to hell, her nose was running, and she was shaking as she ran her hand under the cold water in her bathroom.

By the time she had collected herself, it was past two in the morning.

She ran her good hand through her messy hair in distress, having bandaged her other one.

She took a deep breath, entering her bedroom.

Only to find a bleeding, panting Derek Hale on her floor.

"Jesus, Derek," she gasped, happiness coursing through her despite the circumstances, "I thought, oh god, I don't know what I thought."

"Hey," he smiled through gritted teeth, "I could use a little help, if you don't mind."

"Oh shit," she cursed, "yeah, of course."

She raced back into her bathroom, grabbing her well-loved first aid kit and bringing it over to him.

She helped Derek remove his shirt – not without blushing profusely, of course – and cringed at the gaping wounds in his chest.

"Why aren't you healing?" she demanded of him as she got out the rubbing alcohol.

"It takes longer because it came from an Alpha," Derek explained with bated breath, "Hey, are you gonna- oh fuck,"

Derek threw his head back, groaning in pain as she sprayed disinfectant into his wounds.

"Sorry," she smiled sympathetically, "I figured it would be easier if you weren't expecting it."

"What happened to your hand?" Derek nodded to her bandaged hand, wincing as she began cleaning the wounds of excess blood.

Celeste laughed in disbelief.

"What?" Derek furrowed his brows as she started wrapping medical gauze around his chest.

"Nothing," she shook her head, "It's just, you have five holes in your chest and you're worried about my damn hand."

"I'm always worried about you, I can't explain it," Derek looked frustrated at himself for experiencing emotions, "I feel like I need to protect you. Which is hard, since you seem to love throwing yourself headfirst into danger."

"I'm flattered and all," Celeste finished bandaging his wounds and helped him to sit up on her bed, "but I wish you wouldn't. I hate people worrying about me."

"Whatever," Derek grunted, "seriously, what happened to your hand?"

"Oh," Celeste shrugged, lying easily, "the Alpha threw me into a wall, and I sprained it pretty badly."

"You're forgetting I can hear your heartbeat," Derek glowered at her.

Oops.

"It doesn't matter what happened," she stuttered, looking away, "It's nothing I can't handle."

"Celeste," Derek growled out.

Celeste was at a loss for words, but luckily she was saved by the bell.

Or, at least, the sound of the Imperial Death March blasting through her phone speakers.

"What's up, nerd?" she asked into the phone.

"Celeste," Stiles laughed on the other end of the call, "I missed your voice. I miss you. Come hang out with me."

"Stiles," Celeste chastised, "are you drunk right now?"

"How did you know?" he whispered in shock, "Are you magic? Scotty, I told you she was magic. That's why I can't ever stop thinking about you. You magicked yourself into my mind."

"I'm not magic," Celeste blushed at the second part of what he said, "I'm just not an idiot."

"Hey," he was yelling now, "Don't call yourself an idiot. You're the smartest person I know. Smarter than me, even. Which is saying something."

Celeste sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Celeste?" she heard Stiles panic in the receiver, "Where'd you go? Did you leave?"

"I'm still here buddy," she spoke in amusement.

"Good," Stiles huffed "Don't leave me. I don't want you to leave me."

"I'm not going anywhere, Stiles."

Derek looked at her in disgust.

"Scotty isn't happy," Stiles pouted into the phone, "Scotty, why aren't you happy? Dude, you know she's just one girl. There's so many other girls in the sea."

"Fish in the sea," Celeste heard Scott's voice grumble softly.

"Fish?" Stiles was appalled, "Why are you talking about fish? I'm talking about girls. I love girls."

"Oh my god," Celeste spoke.

"Especially ones with silky black hair, ocean eyes, five foot three," Stiles rambled.

"Like Celeste?" Scott pressed in annoyance.

"Yeah," Stiles got excited, "exactly. It's like I can hear her voice. She makes my brain all tingly. Like a drug. Like a really adorable drug."

"You're so drunk," Celeste laughed, brushing his behavior off as the ramblings of an idiot with blurred inhibitions.

Derek growled impatiently.

"Hey, I have to go," she said, "Scotty, don't let him get into too much trouble, yeah?"

"No promises," he sighed.

Celeste hung up the phone, a stupid grin on her face.

"My shirt is ruined," Derek pouted, holding up his tattered shirt.

"No, it's just grunge."

☾ ☽

"It's just weird," Allison spoke in a hushed tone to Lydia and Celeste, "Everybody is talking about what happened the other night and nobody knows it was us."

"Thank you for the protection of minors," Lydia sighed out, her confidence back.

"Guys, do you think I made the wrong decision?" Allison looked at her two friends with expectant eyes.

"About that jacket with that dress?" Lydia pursed her lips, "Absolutely."

Celeste nudged her, but Allison just laughed.

"You know what I mean."

"Hello?" Lydia looked incredulous, "Scott locked us in the classroom and left us for dead. He's lucky we're not pressing charges. Or making him pay our therapy bills."

"I'm sure he had his reasons," Celeste frowned, feeling bad for her friend, "I would just give it some time. Don't make any definite changes. He's not going anywhere."

Allison smiled, the two girls parting ways with Lydia as they made their way into the testing room.

"Ready to get evaluated by Satan?" Celeste nudged her as they took their seats near the front.

Normally, she would have gone to sit by Stiles and Scott, but she figured Alli needed her support right now.

She sighed as Scott entered the room, and Allison tensed up and tried her best to look like she didn't care.

"Allison," Scott approached her, and Celeste cringed at his tactics.

"Mr. McCall," Harris interrupted like the rude ass he was, "please take a seat."

"You have forty-five minutes to complete the test," Harris got up on his little podium, "Twenty-five percent of your grade can be earned right now, simply by writing your name on the cover of the blue book."

Celeste couldn't see him from where she was sitting, but she was pretty sure Stiles was scrambling to write down his name.

"However," Harris continued, "as happens every year, one of you will inexplicably fail to put your name on the cover, and I'll be left here again, questioning my decision to ever become a teacher. So, let's get the disappointment over with. Begin."

Harris set the timer and Celeste sighed, looking down at her paper.

She breezed through the test easily, once again wishing she had taken a higher level biology class as she finished light years before everyone else.

However, her mind was elsewhere. All of her senses were heightened, she had a pounding headache, and she was finding it hard to breathe. She literally threw her pencil across the room when Greenburg coughed.

All she needed now was for her hand to start twitching.

Suddenly, Scott grabbed his backpack and stormed out of the room.

"Mr. McCall," Harris called after him.

Celeste groaned, getting up out of her seat and turning her paper in, running after Scott with Stiles scampering behind her.

"Mr. Stilinski," Harris shouted, "Ms. Lune."

"Scott?" Stiles called out from the hallway, spotting Scott's backpack.

Stiles pulled out his phone to call him, but Celeste had an odd feeling that she knew exactly where he was.

For reasons unbeknownst to herself, she walked dazedly to the boy's locker room.

"I have been in here far too many times for a girl my age," Celeste sighed, but pushed open the door anyways.

Sure enough, the shower was on in the far end of the room, and Stiles turned to Celeste, confusion clear in his eyes.

"How did you-,"

"I don't know," Celeste cut him off.

They approached the shower cautiously, only to find a half-naked Scott, hunched over with the shower turned on.

"Guys," he spoke breathlessly, "I can't."

"What's happening?" Stiles asked, "Are you changing?"

"No, I can't breathe," he choked out.

Celeste didn't know what came over her, but she immediately rushed forward and grabbed his hand.

"It's okay," she said softly, "You're safe. You're okay."

Surprisingly enough, it worked. Scott's breathing returned to normal immediately, and his tense posture turned soft as he relaxed his tight grip on her hand.

"What was that?" Scott looked really freaked out, and when Celeste tried to pull her hand away, he only held tighter.

"You were having a panic attack," Stiles inserted, glowering at their connected hands.

"How do you know?" Scott questioned with wide eyes.

"I used to get them after my mom died," Stiles clenched his jaw, "Not fun, huh?"

"I get them a lot, generally," Celeste smiled softly, "Generalized Anxiety. It's not uncommon."

"I looked at her," Scott spoke about Allison, "and it was like someone hit me in the ribs with a hammer."

"Yeah, it's called heartbreak," Stiles said, glancing at Celeste quickly, "About two billion songs written about it."

"I can't stop thinking about her," Scott was still holding Celeste's hand, as though it were centering him.

"Well you can think about this: her dad's a werewolf hunter, and you're a werewolf, so it was bound to become an issue," Stiles put bluntly.

"Way to be the Ross of the group, Stiles," Celeste rolled her eyes.

"Right," Stiles nodded sheepishly, "that wasn't helpful. Dude, I mean, yeah, you got dumped. It's supposed to suck."

"No," Scott shook his head defiantly, "that's not it. It was like I could feel everything in the room. Everyone else's emotions."

Celeste frowned, recalling the familiar sensation she had experienced.

"It's gotta be the full moon," Stiles reasoned, "So we'll lock you up in your room later, just like we planned. That way the Alpha, who's your boss, can't get to you."

"I think we need to do a lot more than lock me in my room."

☾ ☽

"What does this even mean?" Celeste muttered to herself.

She had just received a text from Stiles telling her to 'call him Biles or he'd steal her copy of The Dark Knight'.

"What?" Lydia asked from next to her, looking away from her conversation with some blonde named Megan or something.

"I don't even know," Celeste shrugged.

"Hey, Celeste," Scott popped up out of nowhere, "Can we talk for a second?"

"Yeah, for sure," Celeste nodded, assuming it was werewolf related as he led her into Coach's office for privacy.

"What's up, buttercup?" she chirped.

"Just, uh, needed to ask you something," he said vaguely.

"Ask away," Celeste smiled encouragingly, "I'm an open book. Or, well, I'm not actually an open book. I'm a human. That would be weird."

"Do you, uh," Scott looked at her with vulnerability, "do you know if Allison still likes me?"

"Of course she still likes you Scotty," Celeste softened at his words, "She just needs time."

"Time," he frowned.

"Yeah, that's all," Celeste smiled, "She's scared, and confused, and she doesn't know what we do."

"Thanks Cel," Scott smiled at her, "hey, your lipstick is a little smudged."

Scott stepped forward and ran his thumb over Celeste's red stained lips.

"Oh, uh, thanks," she laughed nervously, "I knew I shouldn't have let Lydia talk me into wearing lipstick. I'm terrible at it."

"Hey," Scott perked up, "Could you send Lydia in to talk to me?"

"Sure," Celeste smiled, waving awkwardly as she left the office.

Scott had seemed off, darker.

"Must be the full moon," she sighed to herself, making her way out to the lacrosse field.

☾ ☽

Celeste had just gotten out to the bleachers when Scott body slammed into Danny.

"Woah, what the hell?" she reached Scott and Stiles just as everyone began crowding around Danny.

"Scott just went full on Hulk on Danny. It was-," Stiles stopped talking as his eyes zeroed in on Celeste's lips.

"What?" she frowned.

"Your, your lipstick is smudged," Stiles glared at her lips like the stain was made out of blood or something.

"Oh my god," she groaned, "that's it. I'm never wearing lipstick again. Hey, you okay?"

Stiles looked from her to a smirking Scott to a confused Celeste, his jaw clenched tersely.

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

O shit. Everything is all floopy.

I changed some things slightly to develop Celeste's character.

Okay that's all love you guys byeeee.

Stay Hydrated,

-Belle xx