THIRTEEN | WHEN THE PARTY'S OVER

xiii. the alpha (reprise)

          DANNY MAHEALANI'S WIDE EYES MOVE between his two classmates. The bedroom has been quiet for the last five minutes. Finally, he speaks up. "You want me to do what?" he questions the pair incredulously.

"We want you to trace a text," Stiles says simply.

"I came here to do lab work," Danny reiterates, voice laced with annoyance. He raises a brow at Stiles. "That's what lab partners do."

Charlotte clicks her tongue from her spot on the floor. "I'm not a lab partner," she points out. "Yet, I'm still here doing the work, Danny."

Stiles purposefully ignores her. The goal is to convince the boy to help them. It's not going super well so far. "We will, Danny," he reassures. "Once you trace the text."

Danny's eyes narrow. He turns around in his chair to look back at his friend. "What could possibly make you think I know how to do that?" he asks sceptically.

Charlotte sighs. She shuffles through the small stack of paper beside her and holds one up. "Well, actually, we looked up your arrest report—"

"She did that," Stiles is quick to point out. "Not me."

She rolls her eyes. "Anyways, it clearly states that you were charged with..." She tilts her head to the side. "I've got a four-point-one GPA for English, and even I've got no idea how to pronounce that..."

"I—I was thirteen, okay?" Danny exclaims defensively. "And they dropped the charges anyways."

"Whatever," Stiles shrugs.

"No! Stiles. We're doing lab work," he states firmly. Danny slides his chair over to be next to his partner.

Charlotte casts a glance at Derek who sat beside her on a chair and reading a dictionary. She purses her lips for a moment. "You do realise that's upside down?" she whispers to him. He slowly lifts his head up to glare at her. "Right."

Danny points back to Derek in confusion. "Who's he again?" he questions.

Stiles glances over his shoulder to lock eyes with the werewolf in the corner. He stumbles over his excuse – something they clearly should've thought over before Danny had arrived. "Um... Well. He's my cousin. Miguel!"

Charlotte bites her lip, desperately trying to stop fits of laughter escaping. Once again, Derek slowly lifts his head up to glare daggers into the back of Stiles' skull. "Breathe, wolf man," she murmurs to him with a grin. He directs his scowl onto her again and her smile only widens.

"Is that... Is that blood on his shirt?"

"Good spot, Danny!" she praises. "Yes, yes, it is." Ignoring Derek's look of warning, she continues, "Apparently he slipped in the shower last night. Got a cut on his forehead from it, didn't you, Miguel?"

Stiles starts to laugh but quickly covers it up with a cough. "Yeah, if you look close enough you can actually see it right above his eyebrow... Hey, Miguel?" Derek meets his eyes. "I thought I could tell you that you could borrow one of my shirts?"

"Oh, my God, it just keeps getting better," she murmurs happily. Derek slams his book closed and throws it in her general direction. Charlotte, who tries to dodge it, ultimately fails when it whacks her leg. "Bitch!" she hisses.

Derek's lips twitch as he walks over to Stiles' dresser and pulls his shirt over his head a little too aggressively to then throw it onto the floor.

"So anyways, Danny. Charles and I, well and you, know that you do have the skills to trace that text. So, we should probably—"

"Stiles...?"

Said boy turns over innocently to Derek and smiles. "Yes?" he asks.

Tugging at the shirt in his hands, Derek speaks through gritted teeth. "This no fit."

Charlotte bites the inside of her cheek as she spots Danny staring at him. It's at this very second that she realises that they have the upper hand. "Well, Miguel, you better try another one on then," she encourages with a wide smile.

Stiles takes another second before catching onto the underlying meaning in her words. Danny continues to stare at Derek who pulls on another shirt.

"Hey, Danny," Stiles begins. He nods over to Derek. "Doesn't that one look good?"

"Huh?"

She nudges her friend's side. "The shirt, Danny." She slaps a hand over her mouth as Derek turns to face them in a blue and orange striped shirt that is far too small.

The man huffs and the scowl somehow deepens. Stiles and Charlotte turn back to Danny. To no surprise, he's still shamelessly staring. "It's... It's not really his colour," Danny replies slowly.

"Oh, wow, this is incredible," Charlotte whispers in amusement.

Derek takes the shirt off and searches in the drawer for another. Whatever she and Stiles are doing is blatantly obvious. Which means that Derek Hale likes them both a little less than he did when he walked in the door.

She grins when Stiles mutters, "You swing for a different team, but you still play ball don't ya, Danny boy."

Danny's eyes flick to Charlotte who merely grins. He rolls his eyes. "You both are horrible people," he states in disappointment.

Stiles grimaces. "I know, it keeps me awake at night," he admits.

"I'm reminded by multiple people every single day, Danny. Anyways, how are we feeling about the text?"

"Stiles!" All three at the desk spin around at the exasperation exclamation. "None of these fit!" The two best friends glance to each other with smiles so wide that their cheeks hurt.

"I'll need the ISP, phone number, and exact time of the text."

Charlotte nods approvingly and high fives her best friend. "Told you he'd do it for the right price," she comments.

"What?"

"Just focus on the text, Danny. Life or death situation here."

"What?"

Ten minutes later, all four are crowded around Stiles' computer, and Derek is in a shirt that somehow fits.

Danny points to the screen as he says, "Look at this one. Right there. The text was sent from a computer."

Charlotte's eyes widen in shock as she reads over it multiple times. "Okay, Danny, I know you're good and this isn't me questioning your skills whatsoever. But are you sure it's registered to that account name?"

He nods.

Stiles shares a look with her. His eyes continuously flick between the screen and her. "Okay, well I'm questioning!" he exclaims. "No. No. That can't be right."

After Danny leaves a few minutes later, finally accepting that they weren't going to do any lab work, Charlotte turns to the pair remaining in disbelief. There has to be a mistake somewhere. "We aren't seriously going to believe that she's the Alpha?" she raises the question hesitantly.

Stiles shakes his head. His eyes have been glued to the screen. "No, we aren't because it's impossible," he tells her.

"So, who's going to tell Scott that his mom was the one that sent Allison the text?"

⋆。 ﾟ•*⁀➷ ⋆ ﾟʚଓ ﾟ。 ⋆

Charlotte Martin had never explicitly hated physical exercise. She wasn't like some people that would do absolutely anything to get away from it. Her counsellor had suggested a few years ago to use it as a coping mechanism for when things got a little too much to handle. But even after all this time, she still doesn't love it.

It's almost like a love-hate relationship. If she's forced to do it, she suddenly dislikes it a little more. But if it's on her own accord and when she wants to do it, it's okay.

Running with Allison was in the middle. She wasn't loving it because her friend had set a pace far too fast, but she also wasn't hating it because she was spending time with her; even if this wasn't her first choice on what to do.

"Hey, Alli," Charlotte calls out breathlessly. "I know you said we were going for a run, and that's great and all, but how much further?" She tries to maintain a steady breathing pattern as the girl in front of her leads them further into the Beacon Hills Preserve.

Allison spins around and jogs backward, a smile on her face as she watches her friend push sweat-covered hair out of her eyes. "You said you'd be fine," she counters in amusement.

"Oh, I'm fine! Totally fine. Totally and completely fine. I'm just wondering exactly how much longer you want to be out here for, 'cause, you know, I have somewhere to be."

"Sure you do," she responds sarcastically. A smile spread across Allison's lips, and she turns back around to concentrate on not tripping over logs.

Charlotte sighs. She probably should've used a different tone of voice to deliver her words. "I actually do need to be somewhere," she reiterates. But Allison is already out of earshot. She takes in a deep breath and tries to focus on the crunch her runners produce against the autumn leaves as she pushes herself to catch up.

Both girls match each other's pace and grin to one another before sprinting ahead, trying to overtake the other. Then, suddenly, they stumble upon somewhere that one of them knows they absolutely shouldn't be.

The burnt down Hale House stands at the end of the track, staring down at them like a hawk following its pray. The smell of rotting wood lays pungent in the air. Charlotte nervously swallows. "Hey, uh, we should get out of here," she warns Allison. "Private property and all."

The dark-haired girl glances at her briefly. "Yeah, just a second," she replies, slightly dismissive.

Charlotte sighs and reluctantly follows her friend who is walking up the stairs of the front porch. "Shit," she murmurs to herself. Allison slowly swings the front door open. Hesitantly entering through the doorway, Charlotte watches the girl take in the stripped interior. "Alli, I really don't think we should be here..."

Allison meets her eyes and smiles. "Yeah, but it's pretty cool, hey?"

But as the Argent crouches down and notices the claw marks engrained into the rotting floorboards, Charlotte realises that she's just glad that Derek isn't here. She couldn't imagine what would happen if he found an Argent on his property, let alone inside his house.

A floorboard creaks behind them, and it's enough for Charlotte to jump in alarm and let out a small scream. Both girls spin around.

"Damn!" Kate exclaims with a smile. "You got some lungs on you, Charles!"

With her hand over her racing heart, Charlotte's eyes stay on the woman as she comes toward them. "Oh, my God," she whispers. Her breathing's still erratic; partly from the shock, and partly because Allison's psychotic aunt is here with them.

Inside a werewolf's home.

That can't be a coincidence.

Allison's reaction to her aunt wasn't as extreme as her friend's, but she's still surprised. Just not in the same way as Charlotte is. Her eyes narrow. "Wait, did you follow us?" she questions, brows furrowed.

"Well, you can't blame me for being concerned about my favourite niece and her friend now," Kate says with a shrug. "Can you?"

Charlotte's eyes widen. "Hold on, how the fuck did you keep up with us? Even I struggled to keep up with her." She freezes.  "Oh, my God, hell, not fuck. Shit. Fuck, sorry. Crap..." She grimaces.

Kate cuts her off with a laugh. "I heard nothing," she reassures. "So, what're you guys looking for?" Her eyes flick between the two teens, then down to the floor where the claw marks are.

Charlotte, trying to play off as slightly clueless, responds with, "I have no idea, your crazy niece decided it would be a good idea to walk into a haunted house." She blindly plays with the hair tie on her wrist.

Kate chuckles and edges closer to them. Allison sighs. "I don't know," she says. "Something? Anything?"

"You mean answers to questions, like...?"

Allison glances to Charlotte, then back to Kate. "Why he would want to kill us," she says lowly.

The Martin girl's heart begins to beat faster. This isn't going to end well. Definitely not.

Kate chuckles and gestures around her. "Well, I mean come on! Look at this place! Could you imagine if your father and I were trapped in something like this? It might do some pretty interesting things to your head, don't you think?"

Charlotte's eyebrows raise in genuine surprise. "Wait, you know about the fire?" she queries. She didn't realise Kate had been to Beacon Hills before.

The woman nods. "Yeah, I lived here a while back. Moved away for a bit, but I come back to visit occasionally." She receives a small smile of understanding.

"It wouldn't turn me into a psychotic killer," Allison speaks up nonchalantly.

"You don't have to be psychotic to be a killer," Kate corrects. Charlotte almost scoffs. This woman is absolute batshit crazy. "You just need a reason... and even then, sometimes, you can surprise yourself." She stops before her niece. "What do you want, Allison?"

The girl inhales a deep breath and begins to pace around the small room. "I want to not be scared." Charlotte frowns and looks down to the damaged floor. "That night in the school, I felt utterly weak, like... Like I needed somebody to come in and rescue me. I hate that feeling more than anything in the world. I want to feel stronger than that. I—I want to feel powerful."

Charlotte's eyes fall closed for a long moment. She feels the exact same. Suddenly, it had become hard to have a best friend that is a werewolf. Some might think it would be amazing, and it was at first, but as the weeks passed by, she started to constantly feel like she was less of a person because she was human.

She realised how much her life had changed compared to a month ago, and how much of it now revolved around the supernatural and Scott. Of course, she's willingly involving herself, exactly like Stiles is. But even if she was to take a step back, or even if she never knew about the supernatural in the first place, that wouldn't change who Scott McCall now is.

He's still a werewolf.

And she's still a human.

"Allison. If you can give me a little bit of time, just be a little patient... And I think I can give you exactly what you want."

And this is when Charlotte decides she has enough. She stands up abruptly from the table she had been resting on and clears her throat. "Sorry, uh, I have to go. Mom and daughter dinner thing..."

More like tracking down Melissa McCall to confirm that she's really the Alpha werewolf terrorising all of Beacon Hills.

Kate gives her a smile and nods in understanding.

Allison nods her head over to the door. "C'mon," she says. "I'll walk you out."

Once they're back out on the front porch, Charlotte turns to the girl with a frown. "I didn't know you felt like that," she says quietly.

A small smile twitches at her lips, and her dark eyes meet her lighter ones. Charlotte finally notices the sadness, disappointment, and the feeling of failure within them. "Yeah," she whispers. "I guess I just feel helpless. I couldn't do anything." Allison softly sighs. "We were all waiting on Scott to save us. Maybe... Maybe, if things were different, I could have helped you."

"You are not helpless," Charlotte corrects, shaking her head. "You might be the strongest person I know, Allison. It doesn't matter if you can fight or not. Everyone helps in their own ways. Some people have their brains, and some people have physical strength. But if you have one and not the other, or even if you don't have either of them, it does not make you less of a person."

They stare at each other for a few seconds before a weak smile appears on Allison's face. "Thank you," she says softly, filled with gratitude and appreciation.

Charlotte waves to her and begins the long walk along the track to her car.

All that's left to do now is to take her own advice.

⋆。 ﾟ•*⁀➷ ⋆ ʚଓ ﾟ。 ⋆

"Did you get the picture of the necklace?"

"Yep, sure did, Scotty. It's identical to the drawing." Charlotte leans forward in the backseat of the Jeep to hold her phone in the middle for the two in front to hear. Derek suddenly grabs her wrist to move the device closer. It's like he himself has momentarily forgotten that he's a damn werewolf with enhanced hearing. "Dude! Ow, ow, ow—"

"Hey, is there something on the back?" Derek presses urgently. "There has to be something, an inscription, an opening, something..." She rips her arm out of his grip and glares at him. He returns it just as strongly.

Stiles rolls his eyes.

"No... The thing's flat. And it also doesn't open. There isn't anything on it, in it, or around it. There's nothing at all. Where are you guys? Stiles, you're meant to be here! Charles?"

She sighs. "Firstly, I offered to be here because of the whole, you know, not being on the team and all. And secondly, Stiles insisted he was coming. Wouldn't take no for an answer." Said boy nods his head as if Scott could see him.

In the background of the call, they can all clearly hear an extremely exhausted Coach. "Where the hell is Bilinski?" the man yells.

Charlotte eyes Stiles with a frown. "You sure you don't want to go?" she asks him. "I think Derek's perfectly fine if you leave."

Derek's scowl lifts slightly at her words.

"No," Stiles protests firmly. "I'm staying here." She hesitantly nods and focuses back to Scott.

"Stiles, if you don't get here to start... you won't be playing," he points out grimly.

"I know, Scott! Look, if you see my dad... Can you tell him I'll be there? I'm just gonna be a little late, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

The call hangs up and Derek sighs before he points out the obvious. "You're not going to make it."

Charlotte ponders over their options before confidently speaking up. "All right, Stilinski. You are going to play in this game." Stiles' eyes widen. "So get the fuck out of this car and drive." He goes to talk, but she interrupts him, "No. I know how important this is to you, and I know how much it's hurting you to miss it, even if you aren't saying it. Ignore Scott's dilemmas for the night. Okay? Go win this game."

No one moves.

"Go!"

"You're in my car."

"Okay, angry Yoda. You and I are out of here."

"Angry Yoda?"

"Long story."

After bidding her best friend good luck, the pair relocate into Charlotte's car that she had driven separate in.

It's quiet for a minute. Derek turns his head to face the girl. "You didn't tell Scott about him mom," he points out.

She looks over to meet his eyes. "I know. I just want to find out the truth first. You know, for certain." He slowly nods and they both stare at the sign in front of them.

"You gonna be okay in there by yourself?"

"Aw, dude, are you getting soft on me?" Derek's scowl instantly returns. "Yeah, you're not so tough, are you?" She pats his upper arm and reaches over to open her door handle.

"Charlotte?"

"Yup?" She turns back to Derek and before she can say anything further, he violently slams her head against the steering wheel. She loudly groans in pain and rubs her forehead with the palm of her hand. "You bitch! What the fuck was that for?" she exclaims incredulously.

"You know what that was for!"

"You just hit a girl! And that was all Stiles! I only suggested Dan—"

"Go." Derek's eye twitches when she rolls her eyes at him, not even flinching. "Go!"

"Fine! But if I die because of this concussion, I'm haunting you as a ghost. Forever. Charlotte the friendly ghost."

Slamming her door closed with far too much force than necessary, she sends her middle finger up to Derek, who little does she know has a small smile on his face.

She makes quick work of getting to the front entrance of the hospital, and she pushes the double doors open with the intention to find Melissa McCall as fast as she possibly can.

Ten minutes after weaving through hallways and peeking through the windows of rooms, there's still no luck. Charlotte hurriedly takes out her phone and clicks the top contact. He picks up halfway through the first ring. "Derek, I can't find her," she tells him worriedly.

"Okay, ask for Jennifer, the nurse. She's been looking after Peter."

She speed walks down the hallway to where his uncle resides, and frowns at the sight of the open door. She peers into the room, and her frown deepens. "Uh, Derek," she begins in confusion. "Has he been moved?"

"No, why?"

Her eyebrows furrow, her eyes sweeping across the room once more. "Well, unless he's invisible, he must have because he's not here."

"Wait, what?"

"Do I really need to repeat myself? I said he's not here!" There's a long pause over the phone. "Derek—"

"Charlotte, get out of there!"

Her eyes widen slightly at the urgency and panic in his voice. "What? Christ, calm down—"

"It's him!" Derek yells. "He's the Alpha! You need to get out of there now!"

Charlotte's entire body freezes in horror, and somehow, she manages to shut off her phone. She quickly spins around, ready to race out of the building, however, she suddenly stops short in place.

Her lips part in shock at the person standing before her. "Holy shit," she says in disbelief. "Weren't you, like, dead the last time I saw you?"

The smile Peter Hale gives her is one that could be seen on any of her friends' faces. That's what scares her so badly. He looks innocent. "Charlotte!" he greets brightly. "Pleasure to see you again."

She goes to move in the other direction but stops in her tracks as a nurse appears from around the corner, blocking her path. "You should know by now that visiting hours are over," Jennifer speaks lightly.

Charlotte's heart thuds so loudly she's almost certain they can hear it. Her breath catches in her throat, and she screws her eyes shut tightly. "Okay, you're creepy..."

Peter frowns. "Don't look so anxious. I'm not going to kill you," he reassures her gently.

She slowly opens her eyes. "You're not?" she squeaks in surprise.

His smile returns. This time, she doesn't find it as innocent as before. This time, it looks like a smile a serial killer would give. Which makes sense because he's murdered a handful of people in his time. "Of course not," Peter chirps. "Unless you give me a reason to."

Her skin pales a shade lighter in fear, and she slowly starts to back away from the, in her opinion, two very evil looking people approaching her. "Oh, my God," she whispers to herself. "This is it; I'm going to die."

Peter Hale sighs. "Like I said, Charlotte, I don't—Oh, that's not very nice! She's my nurse."

Charlotte quickly turns around to where Jennifer had been to find the woman's unconscious body slumped on the floor, ginger hair spread out like a halo. She almost breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of Derek.

"She was a psychotic bitch helping you kill people," Derek tells his uncle lowly. His gaze meet Charlotte's. "Get outta here."

She nods curtly in response. "Done." She casts one quick look back to Peter, who once again smiles at her, and she runs behind a nearby desk. "Charlotte, get the fuck out of here," she scolds herself quietly. However, her body doesn't move.

"You think I killed Laura on purpose? One of my own family? My mind, my personality, was literally burned out of me. I was being driven by pure instinct!"

At the sound of the booming roar, she cautiously peers over the edge of the desk to find Derek with blue eyes glowing and his canines extended as he charges toward Peter.

Charlotte winces when Derek is slammed against a wall. The way he'd been thrown was like he had weighed nothing more than a few kilograms.

She ducks back down and tries to regulate her breathing. "Okay, now I'm going to die," she murmurs. "Going to die... No, not going to die. Charlotte, get the fuck out of here."

She jumps up and darts to the exit, not before quickly looking back to see Derek punch his uncle in retaliation then get kicked across the floor. She locks eyes with him, and he subtly jerks his head towards the doors. She runs out without looking back again.

She sprints across the parking lot to her Toyota, and once inside, she sits for a few seconds in silence. Then the engine starts up and the car reverses before swiftly spinning around and speeding forward.

Charlotte shudders as her eyes move to the side mirrors. The building gets further and further away. "I hate hospitals," she declares.

It takes her ten minutes to reach the high school and park. She hadn't been able to reach Stiles or Scott on the phone. She desperately needs to talk to one of them. She also desperately needs a hug.

Her door slams shut as she jogs down to the lacrosse field. She sighs upon seeing dozens of spectators leaving the bleachers and the team heading off the field. "Stiles!" she calls out frantically, trying to find one of her best friends. "Scott!"

Then her eyes meet one of them and she runs toward him. "Lottie? Oh, my God, you're alive!" She collides into Stiles and hugs him tightly. He pats her back, pulling back with a frown of concern. "What's up, dude?"

"I—I—It's Peter! Peter's the Alpha! Peter as in Derek's no longer catatonic uncle, and his crazy nurse was helping him murder people, and then Derek attacked him only to get attacked back—"

Her ramble is interrupted by Stiles grabbing both her arms. "Hey," he says calmly. "Slow down. Breathe." She sucks in a deep breath and shakily releases it. "There you go. Okay." He leads her over to the now empty team bench and they both sit down. "Wanna tell me what happened?"

She recites almost exactly what occurred back at the hospital.

Stiles doesn't say a single word until she's completely finished.

"And Derek?"

"I don't know! The last thing I saw was Peter beating the absolute shit out of him."

"Okay. Let's assume he's alive. You know, after the last time..."

She nods. They have to be optimistic because without Derek, well, they're all essentially fucked. "What do we do about Scott? Have you seen him?"

Her eyes scan over the surroundings, trying to locate the familiar mop of brown hair. Stiles points and she follows his line of eyesight. Sure enough, her other best friend is standing with Allison and grinning from ear to ear.

Charlotte smiles slightly, then looks back to Stiles. "How was the game?" He frowns, eyes snapping to the ground. "Fuck, Stiles, I'm so sorry."

He swallows and gives her a weak smile. "It's okay," he tries to reassure. "Just missed the starting whistle by a few minutes."

"No, it's not okay. It's completely my fault. If I had told you to leave earlier, you would've made it in time."

"Charlie. It's okay, really. There's always next time." He notices her glum expression and adds in, "It is not your fault, all right?"

There's no point continuing arguing. She sighs. "Okay, so, should we tell Scott?"

He nods. "Yeah," he agrees. "Best to get it over with, I guess."

"There you are!" Their attention snaps over to Noah Stilinski making his way over to them.

Charlotte gives him a smile. "Hey, Sheriff," she greets.

"You two want to head out for pizza?"

"Hell yeah."

She grins, and once his dad walks away, she lowers her voice to add, "Scott can wait till tomorrow. I think I need a supernatural break for the rest of the night."

Stiles gives her an understanding smile. "Fair enough," he admits. He gently rests a hand on her shoulder as they start to follow Noah. "Let's leave his problems alone for a few hours. Plus, what could possibly happen between now and tomorrow?"

"A lot."

"True. But it is no longer our concern, Charlotte Martin."