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CHARLOTTE AND STILES SLOWLY CREEP toward the McCall house. She frowns. "You know, this reminds me of a few weeks ago..." Using one of the torches that she now has permanently stored in her backpack (with extra batteries of course), she uses it to light up the pitch black bitumen.

Stiles hums. "Hey, yeah! It does," he agrees. They stop in front of the home. "Okay, window or door?" he proposes to her.

"Stiles. Do I look like someone who goes through the front door?" She grins. "Obviously, the window." Mimicking her smile, he nods and they take off to climb up to Scott's bedroom. She slowly lifts the window up, which for some reason seems to always be unlocked, and Stiles glares at her when it creaks.

They both freeze in their current positions when the sound of Melissa McCall's voice travels throughout the house. "Hey, Scott? I'm going to..." Although the light turned off in Scott's room does considerably aid them, the pair outside crouch down further out of sight. Melissa opens the door and sighs. "Sleep..."

Stiles pushes Charlotte through the window, and she lands roughly. "Ow, you bitch!" she shrieks. He quickly climbs through after. But then they jump off the bed and scream in terror at the sight before them.

"Woah!"

"Holy shit!"

Melissa clutches her baseball bat tighter in her hands and raises it higher in the air.

"No, no, no, no!" Stiles yells.

The woman screams loudly in fright.

"No!"

Charlotte's eyes widen further at the bat. "I am not dying this way!"

After finally realising who is standing before her, Melissa slowly brings the bat down to reveal the stern look on her face. In a mixture of an angry shout and scream, "What are you both doing here?"

Charlotte scoffs. "What are we doing? Do either of you actually play baseball?"

Stiles, remembering something very similar happening to him but with Scott instead, sends a very unpleasant scowl toward the bat. "I hate that thing," he seethes.

Scott's mother appears very overwhelmed as she retorts, "What?" The bedroom light turns on and the teenagers watch Melissa spin around to see her son standing in the doorway. "Could you please, for the love of God, tell your friends to use the front door?"

Scott's eyebrows raise in amusement. "But Mom, we lock the front door. They wouldn't be able to get in," he points out.

"Yeah, exactly."

The boys look to Charlotte. Scott waves at her. "Have you met her? She would somehow find a way in if the doors and windows were locked."

"Do any of you actually care that there's a police enforced curfew?"

All three shrug their shoulders and simultaneously answer, "No."

Charlotte and Stiles move toward Scott, and they watch Melissa roll her eyes. "No," she repeats. The curly-haired woman throws her hands up into the air. "All right then! Well, you know what? That's about enough parenting for me for one night so..." As she walks out, the bat is thrown onto Scott's bed. "Goodnight."

"Night, Mom!" Scott calls back with an innocent smile. When the werewolf turns back to both of his friends perched on his bed, he drags a chair over to be at their eye level. "What could possibly be wrong now?"

Stiles hesitates. "Uh, my dad left the hospital fifteen minutes ago... It's the bus driver." Scott furrows his eyebrows and the boy takes it as a sign to continue. "They say he 'succumbed to his wounds.'"

"Succumbed?"

Charlotte licks her lips. "Scott," she begins gently. "He's dead. Like, dead, dead."

ยปยปโ€”โ€”โ€”-ใ€€ใ€€โ€”โ€”โ€”-ยซยซ

It had been an almost sleepless night. She had been too worried about, well, everything. The last few weeks had been a lot mentally. Discovering that werewolves exist is one thing, but suddenly being wrapped up in murders was another. After she had been dropped home, Charlotte had taken five showers, each more than half an hour long. It was to help calm her anxiety. The feeling of the water trickling down her back always soothed her racing heart. But now, as sits in English, she yawns loudly. She's exhausted. Even as their teacher hands out recent graded assessments, she can't find herself to care. She hesitates before reaching a hand out and tapping Scott on the shoulder.

He turns around with his eyebrows raised. "What?"

"So..." She grins. Stiles chuckles as if he's able to read her mind. "Are you going to admit it?" She flips her braid over her shoulder whilst waiting for his response.

"Admit what...?"

"Admit I was right? Admit that Charlotte is always right, and she is obviously the smartest person on the planet." she chuckles when Stiles scoffs next to her. "And that Scott McCall was completely idiotic to ignore her?" To her immense disappointment, her confident brag is disrupted by another yawn.

Stiles snorts beside her. "So, if Derek isn't the Alpha-"

"Obviously," she adds.

"If he's not the one who bit you-"

"Old news..."

"Then who did?"

Scott remains silent as he processes the question. He shrugs his shoulders and speaks quietly, "I don't know." He looks expectantly to Charlotte.

The girl narrows her eyes at him. "What do you want?"

"Well, if you know everything, who's the Alpha?"

Stiles shuffles in his seat and agrees that he wants to team up against her. Just for fun. He arches a brow and leans his chin into his palm. "Yeah, who is the Alpha?"

"I-I-I..." She rolls her eyes and sighs in defeat. "You got me there," she mutters.

The boys share a smile. Then Stiles turns back to Scott. "Did the Alpha kill the bus driver?" he asks seriously.

"I don't know."

Charlotte slowly nods. "Does Allison's dad know about the Alpha?"

"I don't know!" Half the class turns to look at his outburst.

She hums. Charlotte leans forward further in her chair toward the boy seated in front of her. "You know what? I honestly wouldn't be surprised if the whole of Beacon Hills knew about the supernatural because of how loud you are right now." Stiles grins at her observation before looking at the papers on his desk, trying to act natural as possible as the nearby students start to turn away.

To the remaining eyes lingering on the three, Charlotte lifts her middle finger, then quickly smiles gratefully at the teacher who hands her assessment back. She and Stiles fist bump as they see the A grades stamped on both of their papers.

Peering over Scott's shoulder to see a D-, Charlotte returns to her seat and grimaces to Stiles, silently signalling his mark. Then she leans forward again to whisper into his ear, "Scott, you need to study more!" He flinches at her voice, then slams the paper onto his desk. She jumps back in fright. "Jeez, dude! Just a joke..."

"Scott, it's just one test," Stiles points out sympathetically. "You'll make it up. We can help you study?" He points to the blonde and she nods enthusiastically.

"Nope. Studying with Allison after school today," Scott responds, looking straight ahead of him. His friends share a wide grin and each pat one of his shoulders.

"That's my boy!"

"Fuck yeah, Scotty!"

Scott rolls his eyes. "We're just studying," he corrects, trying to deny their insinuations.

Stiles clicks his tongue. "Um, no you are not."

"No, I'm not?" Scott frowns as he looks back to them.

"Nope. Not if I'm forced to live vicariously though you! Scott, if you go over today and squander that monumental opportunity, I swear to God, I'll have you de-balled."

Charlotte pulls a face. "Count me out."

Scott sighs, looking exhausted by this conversation. "Okay. Fine. Just stop asking questions." He looks to the girl as he says, "Both of you."

She nods. "Done. No worries."

"No more talk about the Alpha, or Derek..." Stiles trails off as he remembers the interaction with the man in the deputy's car. "Especially Derek... Who still scares me..."

Charlotte chuckles at him. "Who, angry Yoda?"

Stiles glances to her and frowns. "Yeah..."

"Yoda?"

"Scott!"

It takes another minute of the boys discussing Scott's sex life before Charlotte is excused by the teacher to go to the bathroom. She actually just wants to desperately get away from the conversation. Anything to avoid hearing about that... She shudders at some of the words Stiles had thrown out and shuts the door behind her as she walks into the deserted hallway. As her footsteps continue further, she hears voices. Loud voices.

"Okay, tough guy. You know, how about I help you find him? If you tell me what you're selling him." Intrigued, she walks in the opposite direction of the bathroom and closer to the conversation. "What is it? Is it, uh, Dianabol? Hm? HGH?" Charlotte groans in annoyance once realising that she recognises the person this specific sound belongs to.

"Steroids?"

"No. Girl scout cookies. What the hell do you think I'm talking about?"

She sighs upon seeing Derek and Jackson next a row of lockers. Picking up her pace, she shoves the latter backward a few steps from the older man. "God, just fuck off, dude. Seriously."

He smiles mockingly at her then glances back to Derek. "Oh, and, uh, by the way, whatever it is that you're out selling, I'd probably stop sampling the merch. You look wrecked." He walks off.

Charlotte faces to the werewolf, grabs his elbow, then pulls him towards the entrance of the school. All of her classes have now been completely forgotten. Whatever is going on here is far more important than the rest of her life. "What the fuck are you doing here?" she hisses.

"I need Scott," Derek states weakly.

When she actually looks at him, she realises he's drenched in a thick sheen of sweat and looks ghostly pale compared to his leather jacket. Her eyes flick down to his hand, and her eyebrows raise at his fingers that are stained a dark red. "Right. I'm gonna call Scott," she concludes. "You need to get the fuck out of here before someone calls the Sheriff, and tell me exactly what's wrong with you."

Too tired to argue, Derek reluctantly follows the girl out to her car and fills her in as she starts the engine. As the vehicle's tires screech as the car spins around and out of the parking bay, Charlotte multitasks and calls Scott. She places the phone on speaker.

"Charlie, hey!" Scott greets cheerily. "Where are yo-"

"Scott, no time for chat. Derek's with me and he looks deathly." The man's scowl deepens and she rolls her eyes.

"Wait, what? What do you mean?"

She pauses as she indicates to turn out of the parking lot. She briefly glances at Derek and motions for him to speak. "I was shot," he says casually. He groans in pain and clutches his arm when the car flies around a corner.

Charlotte sheepishly smiles. "Sorry..."

"Shot?" Scott repeats. "Okay, so you'll heal," he points out obviously.

"With a silver bullet?" Stiles questions in the background of the call.

"No, you idiot-"

Scott interrupts them before they can properly argue. "Wait, wait, that's what she meant when she said you had forty-eight hours..."

Charlotte's looks to Derek in confusion as she makes another turn. His eyes widen in alarm at the boy's words. "What? Who said forty-eight hours?"

"The one who shot you."

"Scott, how the fuck could you possibly know that?" she retorts incredulously. Derek suddenly moans in pain and his eyes flash a bright, glacial blue. Her foot presses down on the acceleration pedal further, and spares a glance to him. "Woah, dude, are you okay?"

"I can't help it-" he tries telling her.

"It's the poison," she finishes.

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

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

As Charlotte has her lightbulb moment, Derek's eyes move to her and he grips onto the side of the car as it accelerates again. "'Cause she's an Argent," he explains. "She's with them."

"Why should I help you?"

She rolls her eyes at his stubbornness. "Oh, my God, shut up and just do what he says!"

"Why?"

"Because you need me, Scott," Derek answers firmly.

Before the call cuts off, Charlotte quickly adds, "Tell Stiles to meet me at the animal clinic. Deaton's off for today, right?"

"He says yep. And he is. Why the clinic?"

"I'm taking him there; he looks way too ghostly to protect himself right now."

"Wait, how are you going to get in?"

She purses her lips. "I made a copy of your key. Don't reply to that. Just hurry up." Charlotte hangs up and continues speeding towards the clinic. She's grateful she's best friends with the son of the Sheriff, because otherwise she would have multiple speeding tickets by now. "Okay, so, on a more serious note, are you dying?"

Derek takes a deep breath. "Not yet. I have a last resort."

She raises her brows. "And pray tell, what would that be?" Charlotte immediately regrets looking down. Bile rises in her throat at the sight of the bullet wound in his arm. "Oh, shit, is that contagious? Because if you're dying, I don't want to di-"

"Charlotte?"

"...Yeah?"

"Shut up and drive."

"Where's Rihanna when you need her..."

ยปยปโ€”โ€”โ€”-ใ€€ใ€€โ€”โ€”โ€”-ยซยซ

Skidding to a stop in the animal clinic's driveway, Charlotte takes the car key out and runs around to the passenger side to help Derek walk. They look up to see Stiles standing with the front door open for them. Her eyes widen. "How do you-"

"Have a key as well, Charles."

She nods and gestures to Derek. "Little help?"

"Right, yep sorry." Stiles takes in the man's physical appearance as they stumble into the building and grimaces. "Wow, she was right, dude... You look like death."

Derek glares at him and peels his shirt off, setting his arm down onto the metal examination table. Charlotte takes a moment to really assess their present situation. The bullet wound now has black veins crawling out of it, reaching his upper and lower arm. Blood continues to seep out. She gawks before snapping out of her daze as Stiles begins to talk.

"Actually, thinking about it again... It doesn't really look like anything some echinacea and a good night's sleep couldn't take care of-"

"Shut up," the man seethes. "Before I rip your throat out. With my teeth."

Stiles takes a large step backward from Derek. The werewolf walks forward on his own, rifles through some of the drawers before grabbing a black rubber band out. Stiles looks at the bullet wound again, then away quickly in disgust. Pulling out his phone when it vibrates, he looks up to the pair in question. "Does Northern Blue Monkshood mean anything to you?"

"It's a form of wolfsbane," Charlotte answers, slightly confused. Why would wolfsbane be important?

"He has to bring me the bullet," Derek states between heavy breaths.

"Why?"

"Because when the infection gets to my heart, I'm going to die."

The girl puffs out a breath of air. "Positivity isn't really in your vocab, is it?"

Derek rolls his eyes. "If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time, I have a last resort," he tells them.

She nods. "Yeah, care to finally tell me what that last resort is?"

Rustling around in one of the drawers again, Derek pulls out something that vaguely resembles a saw. Both of the teenagers dryly swallow. "One of you is going to cut off my arm."

"Oh, God no, absolutely not."

"Fuck no! I brought you here, Stiles, it's your turn."

The boy turns to her in shock. "I think the fuck not!" he exclaims. "What if he bleeds to death? I don't want to go down with murder! Do you?"

Derek tightens the band around his upper arm with his teeth. "It'll heal, if it works," he says.

Charlotte's jaw drops in wonder. "Your arm will grow back?" she asks him seriously.

Stiles' skin blanches a tone paler. "I don't think I can do this," he murmurs.

Derek, still trying to tie the band, questions with his voice slightly muffled, "Why not?"

The boy begins to ramble. "Well maybe because of the cutting through the flesh-"

Charlotte waves her hand as she adds, "Sawing of the bone-"

"And especially the blood!"

Derek looks up at him in disbelief. "You faint at the sight of blood?"

"No," Stiles replies. His voice raises an octave. "But I might at the sight of a chopped off arm!"

The man turns to face Charlotte, still breathing heavily as he tries to work through the pain. "And you?"

Her stomach churns at the thought of having to sever his arm. "Okay. I admit that dead bodies are cool and all, but actually cutting a body part off myself? Yeah, I think not. Sorry."

"One of you has to do it. You either cut off my arm, or I'm gonna cut off your heads."

She rolls her eyes at the threat. "And let me guess, you'll do it with your fuckin' teeth?"

"I agree," Stiles adds. "I am so not buying any of your threat-" Derek reaches forward and pulls the boy towards him by the shirt. "Oh, my God!" he yells in alarm. "Okay. All right. Bought. Fucking sold. I'll do it."

The werewolf's narrowed eyes flick to the blonde. She scoffs. "I got you out of jail."

Still gripping onto Stiles' shirt, Derek leans forward and gags. "What are you doi-" Stiles is cut off as the man vomits out black blood onto the floor. "Holy God, what the fuck is that?"

"Woah..."

"It's my body trying to heal itself," Derek explains to them, his chest heaving up and down.

"Well, it doesn't look like it's doing a great job so far!"

He glances between the two and Charlotte finally notices the fear hidden within his eyes. It wasn't as prominent before, but now... Now she knows that Derek Hale is really frightened for his life. And if Derek's scared... "Stiles, I don't think this is as humorous as we thought it was," she says quietly.

"Now. One of you has to do this now."

"And where the fuck is Scott?"

Stiles starts to panic. It's all too real now. "Look, honestly I think Charlo-"

"Just do it!" Derek demands urgently.

"Oh, my God... All right here we go..."

The door bursts open and a voice calls out, "What the hell are you doing?"

Charlotte's shoulders drop in relief. "You do not know how many more nightmares you've just saved me," she tells him gratefully.

"Did you get it?" Derek asks eagerly. Scott reaches into his pocket and pulls the bullet out. The blonde reaches across, grabs it, and hands it to the injured.

"What are you gonna do with it?" Stiles enquires curiously.

"I'm gonna..." Derek's eyes begin to droop closed and he trails off by dropping to the ground as he falls unconscious. To the teenagers' horror, the bullet slips out of his grip and falls down a vent in the floor.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Scott yells in panic.

"No, come on!" Charlotte pleads. She rushes forward beside his lip body. "Derek, wake the fuck up!"

Stiles' head snaps back over to their friend. "Scott, what are we going to do now?"

Scott looks back to them anxiously whilst trying to grab the bullet out. It's proving much harder than he initially thought. "I don't know! I can't reach it!"

Stiles goes to hit the unconscious werewolf, however, Charlotte beats him to it. Her palm slaps across his cheek, eliciting an incredibly satisfying sound. "I've always wanted to properly hit someone," she mutters. She does it again before calling out, "Scott, he isn't waking up!"

Stiles hits the man on the head and glances to the girl beside him in horror. "Scott, I think he's dying! I think he's dead!"

"Obviously he's dying!"

"But is he dead?"

Scott interrupts them by running over with the bullet in his hand. "I got it! I got it."

Stiles mutters quietly to Charlotte, "Make sure he doesn't kill me for this." He punches Derek square in the jaw. She would've laughed if the situation wasn't so dire. "Shit! Ow! God!"

Derek's eyes flicker open. "Give me-" Charlotte grabs onto his good arm and Scott pushes his back, both of them helping him up onto his feet.

"Ow!" Stiles hisses again. He vigorously shakes his hand out. "God, what are you made of brick?"

Scott hands the bullet over to Derek and he rips the cap open with his teeth. A powder falls out onto the metal surface, and he takes the lighter from Charlotte to set it on fire. Blue flames dance in the air and Derek bundles the concoction with his hands, the teenagers watching on anxiously. Taking the powder, he slaps it onto the bullet wound with his palm and immediately cries out in pain.

Derek falls onto the floor and Charlotte's eyes widen as an electric blue smoke begins to come out of the injury. They observe the black veins crawling back into bullet hole, and the wound disappears. Her mouth falls open and she and Stiles look to each other in awe. "That. Was. Fucking awesome!" she screeches.

"So worth all of it!" Stiles adds with a grin.

Scott, suddenly concerned for the man's wellbeing, asks, "Are you okay?"

Derek looks up at them, and it's revealed that his signature resting bitch face is back. "Well except for the agonising pain..."

Charlotte's grin widens. "You're using sarcasm, so that's a pretty good sign of health." Derek scowls at them and she holds her hands up. "Dude, I got you out of jail."

"When are you going to stop using that?" Stiles mutters.

"Never."

"Okay. We saved your life," Scott states pointedly. "Which means you're gonna leave us alone."

Charlotte spins over to the boy in shock. "Scott, what?"

Stiles furiously nods his head in agreement with her. "Yeah, Scott, what?"

The boy ignores them. "And if you don't, I'm gonna go right back to Allison's dad," he threatens. His friends look to each other, both appalled at what is coming out of his mouth. "Yep. And I'm gonna tell him absolutely everything-"

Derek's eyes narrow to slits and he scoffs. "You're gonna trust them? You think they can help you?"

"Scott, he tried to kill you!" she protests loudly. "Without knowing it was actually you!" Stiles gestures towards her once again and nods his head.

"Well why not?" Scott counters heatedly. "They're a lot fucking nicer than you are."

"Scott!" Charlotte and Stiles exclaim together.

Derek shakes his head. "Oh, I'll show you exactly how nice they are," he says lowly.

Scott's face falls in confusion. "What do you mean...?"

ยปยปโ€”โ€”โ€”-ใ€€ใ€€โ€”โ€”โ€”-ยซยซ

After leaving Stiles and convincing Charlotte to come along, the female stops her car before a sign that reads 'Beacons Crossing Home, A Long Term Care Facility.' She glances to Derek who sits beside her in the passenger seat and asks, "What are we doing here?"

Scott opens his door. "Who the fuck knows." They enter the building and Derek leads them into a patient's room. Upon opening the door, the teenagers quickly see a man in a wheelchair sitting in the corner of the space. Walking behind Derek, they look to each other, then back the man. Charlotte politely tries not to stare even though she is fairly certain he isn't aware of what is going on around him. "Who is he?" Scott queries hesitantly.

Derek looks straight ahead, not making eye contact with either of them. "My uncle. Peter Hale."

Charlotte asks the question she assumes Scott has on his mind as well. "Is he a werewolf, too?"

Looking briefly at her then back to his uncle, he nods. "He was. Now he's barely even human. Six years ago, my sister and I were in school and our house caught fire. Eleven people were trapped inside. He was the only survivor."

Scott's eyebrows raise. "So... What makes you so sure that they set the fire?"

"'Cause they were the only ones that knew about us!"

Charlotte's eyes move to the ground. Then they widen dramatically when Scott has the nerve to say, "Well, then... They had a reason."

She elbows him violently in his side. He groans in pain. "Scott! There were kids in that house," she hisses to him. "There is no arguable reason whatsoever to kill innocent kids."

Derek nods at her words. "You tell me what justifies this." He spins Peter Hale around so they can see the side of him that was hidden within the shadows. Scars of burns decorate the entire right side of his face and travel down his neck. "They say they'll only kill an adult and only with absolute proof, but there were people in my family that were perfectly ordinary in that fire." Derek's eyes meet Scott's. "This is what they do, and it's what Allison will do."

A nurse enters the room and looks between the three with surprise. "What are you doing? How did you get in here?"

"We were just leaving."

ยปยปโ€”โ€”โ€”-ใ€€ใ€€โ€”โ€”โ€”-ยซยซ

Lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling, Charlotte pulls her daisy adorned duvet up to her chin as her thoughts stew on what Derek had said an hour ago. It's what Allison will do. Sure, her new friend happened to be in a family that has a habit of hunting supernatural creatures for a hobby. Specifically ones like Scott. But would she really kill them? Would she really kill Scott? Although it would be a little different if he killed her father or her mother.

Charlotte scoffs at her own justification. No. That wouldn't excuse it at all. "But would she really kill someone?" she whispers to herself. Her words sound like someone's yelled them. They're deafening. They're impactful.

Something she had heard from Stiles' dad comes into mind. Wanting someone dead and actually killing them are two completely different things. Everyone is capable of killing someone. But Allison? Charlotte has a gut feeling that something would have to drive her to be able to do what her family does.

Charlotte Martin doesn't even know what a 'hunter' is. Do they go around slaughtering every werewolf in sight? Surely there are rules. Otherwise, it would be murdering innocent people, people who never had exhibited violent behaviour and perhaps just got unlucky with the bite.

She swallows. "Almost like Scott."










๐˜ ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜บ๐˜ด ๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜จ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ ๐˜ง๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฏ๐˜บ ๐˜‘๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ฌ๐˜ด๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ช๐˜ด. ๐˜๐˜ฆ'๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜จ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ต ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ค๐˜ฌ ๐˜ฆ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ, ๐˜ฃ๐˜ถ๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ถ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ'๐˜ด ๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ด ๐Ÿ˜ญ

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