I do not own Teen Wolf or any of its characters. I only own Celeste. If I did... just... Stydia.

Song - Turn to Dust // Wolf Alice

Celeste's POV

A sense of normalcy filled Celeste, though she was at the brink of insanity, as she entered the animal clinic.

The veterinary clinic was currently closed, but her boss had called her in for assistance with an emergency patient.

It's not like she had a social life he was pulling her away from or anything.

"Hey," she chimed, striding into the backroom, "what was the big emer-,"

Celeste cut herself off with a sharp intake of breath at the sight of one Scott McCall laying unconsciously on the metal exam table, a white cloth bandage stained red covering part of his chest.

There went her sense of normalcy.

"Holy moly," she cried, dashing to Scott's side, "what happened?"

"I found him in the woods, injured," Deaton explained with a ridiculous amount of composure.

"And you didn't think to take him to the hospital?" Celeste demanded, any sense of politeness leaving her at the sight of her wounded friend.

"Normal hospitals aren't exactly fit to tend to this particular type of wound," the man answered smoothly.

"You're a veterinarian," Celeste reminded him, completely aghast.

"True," he shrugged with a small smile, "though I deal with more than your typical garden variety domestic animal."

"What are you saying?" Celeste cautiously danced around bringing up Scott's secret identity, though it was becoming rather apparent that the veterinarian already knew.

"I'm saying that Scott is in a predicament, and he needs you to help him through it," Deaton answered vaguely.

"Why would he need me?" Celeste frowned in confusion, choosing to circle back to how much the man knew later.

For an eighth of a millisecond, Celeste could have sworn a flash of panic danced across the man's hazel eyes.

"You know," he smiled smoothly, "just a familiar face, that's all."

Celeste frowned in suspicion, but nevertheless reached for Scott's limp hand as a small means of comfort.

As soon as they made contact, however, the boy's chocolate brown eyes flew open and he gasped for air, glancing at Celeste in confusion and swinging himself off the table.

"Welcome back to the land of the conscious," Deaton spoke with obscure casualty, "You doing okay?"

Scott wheeze-grunted.

"Maybe you should sit down, huh?" he spoke calmingly.

Before the werewolf could comply, the bell out front rang, signaling someone's arrival.

"Hello?" Deaton called, the trio stiffening in caution.

Deaton moved forward, but both Celeste and Scott tried to stop him with concerned eyes.

"I'm sorry, but we're closed," Deaton spoke, brushing off their worry.

"Hi there," Celeste froze at the sound of a dauntingly familiar voice, "I'm here to pick up."

"I'm not sure I remember you dropping off," the two teens heard Deaton speak casually, but firmly from the other room.

"This one wandered in on its own," the voice of Peter continued, as Scott took hold of Celeste and pulled her into a corner in the back room.

"Even if it did," Deaton's voice warned, "I'm afraid I can't help you, we're closed."

"Oh," Peter sounded amused, "I think you can make an exception this one time, don't you?"

"I'm sorry, that's not going to be possible," the veterinarian shut him down, "Maybe you could come back during regular hours."

"You have something of mine," Peter's voice turned frustrated, "I'm here to collect it."

Scott clutched Celeste to his chest protectively.

"Like I said," Deaton's voice was straight up venomous, "we're closed."

There was a short silence, followed by the sound of nails scraping against wood.

"Mountain ash," Peter growled out, "that's an old one."

Celeste whimpered as a large crashing sound was heard, and Scott grabbed her hand comfortingly.

"Let me be as clear as possible," Celeste sighed in relief as Deaton spoke, unharmed, "We are closed."

Scott stiffened beside her, and Celeste could only assume Peter was speaking to him.

The boy glanced nervously at his friend, and she frowned in concern when he stepped in front of her protectively.

"What?" she asked when Peter had left, "Did he threaten me? Don't worry about me. I'll kick his sad little werewolf ass. Metaphorically, of course. He is much stronger than me. I have a few choice words for him, though."

Scott tried to smile beside her, but she could tell he was shaken up.

"Let's just call Stiles and go back to mine, yeah?" Scott tried to brush over the encounter.

Celeste nodded reluctantly, and Scott reached into his back pocket, fishing around for his phone.

"I don't have it," Scott frowned in confusion, patting all of his empty pockets.

"I'll do it," Celeste sighed tiredly, "and put on a damn shirt, Rover."

Scott smiled sheepishly, tugging on his navy blue sweater.

"Freaking werewolves."

☾ ☽

"Call it again," Scott fretted from his position rummaging through his desk.

"It's not here," Stiles groaned from where he was sitting backwards on a chair in front of Scott's bedroom door.

Celeste giggled as Scott rolled her over on the bed to check underneath his covers.

"So you lost your phone," Stiles was extra grumpy, "just get a new one."

"I can't afford a new one," Scott snapped after flinging himself underneath his bed, "and I can't do this alone. We have to find Derek."

Celeste frowned, texting Derek for the thousandth time. He wasn't answering, which was unusual for the sour wolf. Normally, he would at least reply with a "k." to assure Celeste he was still alive.

"Well, A: you're not alone, you have us," Stiles shrugged, gesturing between Celeste and himself, "and B: didn't you say Derek walked into gunfire? He sounds pretty dead."

"He's not dead," Celeste snapped at him, but she tentatively sent Derek another video of a screaming goat, just for insurance.

"Argent's plan was to use him to get to the Alpha," Scott seconded Celeste's claim, "they're not gonna kill him."

"So then just let them do what they're planning, you know?" Stiles spoke apathetically, "They use Derek to get Peter, problem solved."

Celeste threw a pillow at him.

"Not if Peter's going after Cel- people we know," Scott caught himself, but Stiles stiffened at the thought of Celeste being threatened, "I can't protect them on my own, which means we need to find Derek first. Just help me."

"Maybe I- these people don't need protection," Celeste tried, hating the idea of her friends worrying about her.

Stiles and Scott both gave her "shut the hell up we're going to protect you, you little shit" looks.

"Maybe you lost it when you were fighting," Stiles decided to be helpful all of a sudden, "Remember that? When he was trying to kill you? After you interrupted him trying to kill Jackson? Are you starting to see a pattern of violent behavior, here?"

"He's having a hard time right now," Celeste defended with a frown.

"He wasn't going to kill anyone," Scott joined the Derek Hale protection squad, "and I'm not letting him die."

"Could you at least think about letting him die?" Stiles pleaded, "For me?"

Celeste threw a rubber ball at his head.

"What?" Stiles asked as Scott stiffened, cocking his head to the side.

"My mom just got home from work," Scott inched closer to his window, listening intently.

"She okay?" Stiles asked.

Scott shook his head, obviously distraught.

"What's she doing?" Stiles frowned.

"Crying."

Celeste looked at Scott in sympathy, grabbing his hand and resting her head on his shoulder when he sat next to her on the bed.

"Scott, you can't protect everyone," Stiles tried.

"I have to," Scott insisted.

"Maybe you need to make sure you're okay first, Scotty," Celeste coaxed.

Scott looked at her, his chocolate brown eyes reminiscent to that of a child's.

The three sat in heavy silence, each waiting for the other to come up with the right words to diffuse the situation, but there wasn't anything to be said.

Instead, they jumped as Celeste's phone beeped, signaling a text.

She grabbed for it eagerly, hoping for a message from her sour wolf, but instead it was just a message from the antichrist.

"It's my mom," Celeste frowned, gulping slightly, "she wants me home."

"No," Stiles whined.

She grabbed her bag, haphazardly shoving her phone inside.

"Later nerds," she spoke, kissing both her friends on the cheek before exiting the cluttered bedroom.

She exited the house around the same time Melissa got out of her car.

"Oh, hey Ms. McCall," she smiled awkwardly, feeling uncomfortable for having second handedly invaded such a private moment of the woman's just moments before.

"Celeste," the woman smiled, but the younger girl could practically feel the sadness radiating off of her, "please, call me Melissa."

Celeste nodded slightly, making her way past, before pausing.

"Hey, Melissa?" she spoke, and the older female looked at her questioningly, "You're a really amazing mom. Scott is lucky to have you. Also, by the way? Any guy who doesn't call you back is either blind or some sort of crazy psychopath."

With that, she made a split second decision to lean forward and wrap the surprised looking woman in a hug.

Melissa stiffened, before relaxing in to the hug and hugging the teenager back.

"Thank you," she said once Celeste pulled away, "you have no idea how much I needed to hear that."

"Anytime," Celeste nodded reassuringly, "now if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to my own birth giver."

She spoke with a smile, but inside her chest constricted as she walked away from the most maternal presence she had felt since she was nine years old.

☾ ☽

"I'm just saying I'd give my first born to Felicity Smoak if she wanted it, that's all."

Allison laughed at Celeste's intense love for fictional characters, shutting her locker only to be greeted by a sweating and delirious looking Jackson.

"Hey," he breathed out, looking at Allison, "what time should I pick you up for the dance tomorrow?"

"Are you okay?" Allison scrunched her nose slightly at his state of distress.

"Yeah, I- I'm great," Jackson stuttered, "I'm just excited to go to the formal with you. As friends. Just friends."

Allison laughed politely, and Jackson hiccup-giggled.

"Are you drunk, Whittemore?" Celeste snorted.

"I-uh," Jackson looked at her in panic before looking at a point behind them, "I'm not supposed to talk to you. I mean, no. I don't know."

Celeste frowned in confusion, looking behind them. She sighed as she saw the wonder twins peering around the corner.

"I'll see you later, yeah?" she nudged Allison, who nodded with a smile.

After trying to pat Jackson's shoulder and having the boy leap away from her like she was on fire, she made her way over to the two boys.

"What did you say to him?" she laughed at their sheepish faces.

"It's not so much what we said," Stiles shrugged, "as much as it is how we said it."

"Why'd you have to terrorize him in the boy's locker room?" she pouted, "I wanted to be there too."

Stiles laughed, but Scott was too busy staring broodily at the retreating forms of Allison and Jackson.

"Hey," Stiles clasped his hand on Scott's shoulder, "don't worry, I'll still be there."

"Yeah," Celeste nodded helpfully, "If he tries to make a move on her I'll challenge him to a dance battle or something."

"I'm still going," Scott insisted.

"Is that such a good idea?" Stiles frowned, "Do you even have a date?"

"Not yet," Scott admitted, "I'll just tag along with you two."

"I'm going with Isaac," Celeste denied him, "sorry. If I could I'd make clones of myself, I know it's rough not getting to experience my amazing dance moves."

"What?" Scott frowned in confusion, "I thought Stiles was gonna-,"

"Do you have a suit?" Stiles interrupted him hurriedly, causing Celeste to blink confusedly.

"Not yet," Scott sighed.

"Do you have a ticket to the formal?" Stiles asked dryly, "A ride there?"

"No, and no."

"So," Stiles laid out, "you're gonna ride your bike to a dance that you're not even allowed to go to without a date, a suit, or a way in with werewolves and werewolf hunters all out to kick your little werewolf ass?"

"Yeah," Scott giggled, "You guys gonna help me?"

"Hell yeah," Stiles agreed, and the two looked at Celeste.

"I'm always a slut for impossible plans."

☾ ☽

"What's wrong with you?" Celeste asked Allison bluntly as they rode up the escalator to Macy's with a very determined Lydia.

"Nothing's wrong," Allison insisted through a thinly veiled lie, "I've just got a lot on my mind."

"Well you could smile, at least," Lydia piped in, "Ever heard the saying 'never frown, someone could be falling in love with your smile'? Smile Allison, I'm buying you a dress."

"I have to admit," Allison smiled, "as far as apologies go, that's more than I expected."

"Excellent," Lydia stated primly, obviously having set things right according to her own moral compass.

"But not as much as I'm going to ask," Allison spoke slyly, but her eyes flickered over to Celeste for a final confirmation.

She nodded her consent, ignoring the pang that ran through her.

"What?" Lydia stiffened, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Allison elaborated, "you're going to cancel on whatever dumb, 'roided up jock you said yes to, and you're going to go with somebody else."

"Who?" Lydia frowned at the feeling of not knowing something, stopping at the top of the elevator and successfully blocking anyone else from using it.

"Him," Allison nodded forward.

The three girls turned to see one Stiles Stilinski standing in front of the perfume counter, clad in his usual flannel.

Celeste felt a sense of regret as he accidentally sprayed himself in the face with a perfume bottle.

She had to stop whatever feelings she seemed to be developing for the now sneezing boy. He liked Lydia, and he always would.

Lydia pouted, looking like she was near tears.

"Awe," Allison mocked, "don't frown Lydia, someone could be falling in love with your smile."

"Hey Celeste," Stiles, oddly enough, addressed the dark haired girl first when the three approached, "What's u- oh, okay. This is happening."

Celeste smiled at him sympathetically as Lydia dragged the buzz cut boy away to try on dresses.

"You sure you're okay?" Allison pressed as the two watched Lydia begin piling dresses into the boy's arms.

"C'mon Argent," Celeste linked her arm through her friend's, purposely avoiding her question, "Let's go try on overpriced pieces of fabric to wear once in a sweaty room filled with grinding teenagers before hanging in our closets and never wearing again."

Allison snorted, but allowed the shorter girl to pull her to a rack of red-themed dresses.

Celeste began rifling through some nearby silver ones as Allison held up a red-sashed garment to her form in a mirror.

The two girls noticed Peter at the same time, Celeste immediately rushing to Allison's side protectively.

"That's not your color," Peter approached them, reminding Celeste of a large ball of slime, "sorry if that was intrusive, but considering your skin tone, I'd go lighter."

"Because I'm pale?" Allison looked seriously creeped out.

"Fair," Peter corrected, "you can't call skin like yours pale. Not skin that perfect. Neither of you."

"Okay," Allison said, while Celeste just double chinned at him.

"Trust me, I have unique perspective on the subject," Peter leaned across to the rack of silver dresses Celeste had been inspecting earlier.

"Do you mind?" Peter grabbed Allison's hand, bringing the dress forward.

Celeste slapped his hand away immediately.

Peter chuckled in amusement as Allison clutched her jacket to her body and inched closer to Celeste.

"Attention shoppers," the loudspeaker came on, "to the owner of a blue Mazda, license plate 5768, your car is being towed."

"Oh," Allison gasped out, "that's my car, Celeste?"

She looked at her friend expectantly, glad to have an excuse to leave Peter.

"I'm just going to stay here," Celeste smiled reassuringly, "I'm way too lazy to walk all the way to the parking lot."

Allison looked at her apprehensively, but, not wanting to create a scene, accepted her friend's answer and left her alone.

"Leave my friends alone you freaking furry," Celeste hissed at him, too angry to revel in the possible consequences of her words.

"Your blind bravery in protection of those you care for is respectable," Peter chuckled, "and I have to say Scott, I continue to be impressed with your ingenuity."

"That's creepy," Celeste frowned, "don't do that."

"Just remember," the man pressed on, "you can't be everywhere all the time."

"Maybe," Celeste stepped in front of him, "but he's not alone."

☾ ☽

"Celeste no," Lydia cried from her webcam, currently skyping Celeste as she attempted to apply her makeup.

"What?" Celeste panicked, dropping the brush from her hand, "What did I do?"

"When I said to create a three on your face with bronzer, I didn't mean for you to write out the word on your cheeks."

"Screw it," Celeste groaned, furiously rubbing away the layer of foundation and bronzer she had painted on to her face.

"Whatever," Lydia sighed in defeat, "it's not like you need sculpting makeup anyways. Lucky bitch."

"Lyds, no one needs makeup," Celeste laughed to herself, beginning to apply her normal winged eyeliner and mascara look, "It's just a fun way for people to gain confidence and express themselves."

"Why do you have to be so politically correct all the time?" Lydia pouted, "At least use the lipstick I bought for you?"

"Sure thing," Celeste smiled, rummaging the tube of ruby red out of her makeup drawer.

They both paused as the door rang on Lydia's end.

"That'll be Stiles," the strawberry blonde groaned, making Celeste wince.

"Treat him well, yeah?" Celeste begged of her usually brash friend, "He's an amazing guy."

"Whatever," Lydia sighed, "I have to go. Love you, don't accidentally eat the lipstick or something. I never know with you."

Celeste rolled her eyes playfully, bidding her friend goodbye and ending the call.

She sighed to herself, stepping in to the lacy black dress she had eventually decided on.

Her black waves covered her shoulders, making up for the lack of sleeves on the sweetheart neckline garment.

The dark material hugged her at the bodice, before flowing out and reaching the tips of her knees.

She painted her lips a shade of red that reminded her alarmingly of blood, and stepped into her black pumps.

Looking in the mirror for a final once over, the girl shivered slightly. She had a creeping feeling that tonight was going to be one to remember, and not necessarily for good reasons.

The doorbell rang, causing Celeste to jump.

Letting out one more shaky breath, she exited her room and made her way to the top of the staircase, where she could hear her mother and Isaac making really awkward small talk.

She made her way down the staircase in typical cliché teenage movie fashion, except for the fact that she was clinging on to the rail for dear life as she hobbled down the steps in her heels.

The moment she made eye contact with Isaac, she tripped and fell.

Her mother groaned as the curly haired boy rushed forward.

"You okay?" he asked in concern, helping her cautiously to her feet.

"For sure," she grimaced, "nothing is bruised besides my ego. Also maybe my side. Semantics."

"You look," Isaac stuttered once he was certain she was okay, "I mean- you're celestial."

"Funny," she let out a laugh at his pun, but her cheeks heated up at the compliment.

"Celeste," her mom snapped, "why is your hair down? Did you even try? You look like such a dissa-,"

"Yep, got it," Celeste intertwined her hand with Isaac's and slipped out the door as her mother rambled on, "love you, mother dearest. Bye."

She swiftly closed the oak door behind her as Isaac frowned at her mother's attack.

"I, uh, got you this," Isaac held out a corsage, which consisted of a rose, spray painted black, "I didn't really know what you were wearing, but I figured it would be black, because you wear black a lot. I know the black rose is kind of weird, but you're really weird so I figured-,"

"Isaac," Celeste laughed in delight, "it's perfect, thank you."

Isaac blushed profusely.

"So you ready to go?" he tried to take the attention off of himself.

Celeste nodded, trying not to let her nerves seep through.

"What?" he frowned nervously, "Is something wrong?"

Obviously it didn't work.

"Honestly?" she hesitated.

The lanky boy gulped, but nodded.

"I think school dances are terrible, but it's going to be a lot less terrible with you."

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

Who do I even ship anymore lol.

JUST KIDDING IM KIDDING ITS STELESTE I SWEAR.

Dw by the way I'm going to write an Isaac fic probably so if you hate me for making him love her I will hopefully make up for it in that respect.

But guys fr next chapter shit is going down you might hate me probably.

Love you!! (: (:

Stay hydrated,

-Belle xx