𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚-𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 | 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽𝔂'𝓼 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻

𝘊𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘺 𝘈𝘴𝘴 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘔𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘭

𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙙
𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙪𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙙𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙪𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙙𝙚

CHARLOTTE'S EYES SLOWLY OPEN TO the sound of a shrill whistle (she wants to burn the damn thing to smithereens) and Coach's loud voice. "Everybody out!" the man yells. "If your asses aren't outside in the next five seconds, you'll be sleeping in the cold for the rest of the night!"

"Come on, I want a bed," Allison groans. The blonde grins and grabs her duffle bag, allowing herself to get dragged off the bus.

But as soon as Charlotte lays her eyes on the building they'll be staying in, an uneasy feeling of dread settles within the pit of her stomach. She doesn't like it one bit. She can't point out specifically what it is about the place... but there's something about it that makes her feel like they're about to be murdered. Maybe because it's the only establishment for a few miles. Or maybe it's because throughout the entire journey thus far, she had a gut instinct that something was off.

After pursing his lips and staring at the motel for a few moments, Scott shrugs. "I've seen worse," he comments casually.

Blinking slowly, Stiles turns to the boy and stares at him. "Where the fuck have you seen worse?" he claps back in disbelief.

Charlotte shuffles in between the two boys and nods in agreement with Stiles. "Yeah, I wouldn't be surprised if Billy Loomis came out from the shadows in his ghost mask with a giant axe to murder us."

The whistle blows again as Coach holds up sets of keys to the group of students before him. "Listen up! The meet's been pushed back 'til tomorrow," he informs the large group of students crowding around him. "This is the closest motel with the most vacancies and the least amount of good judgement when it comes to accepting a bunch of degenerates like yourselves!" Charlotte huffs a sigh and tries to avoid directly staring at the bright LED sign of the motel. The Glen Capri. She thinks it sounds evil. "You'll be pairing up, so choose wisely. And I'll have no sexual perversions perpetrated by you little deviants! Got that? Keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves! And stay away from Argent and the Martins!"

As Coach begins to hand out room keys to students, Allison gently touches both of the twins elbows. "Wanna share?" she asks them with a smile

Charlotte grins at her. "Obviously, I'm not sharing with those two idiots." She nods her head over to Scott and Stiles who are arguing a few metres away.

"What are they yelling about?" Lydia mutters to her sister.

"The person closest to the door always gets killed first, so I'm guessing they're trying to decide who should be on which bed." Allison and Lydia stare at her. Charlotte giggles at their expressions and Allison walks over to Coach with a chuckle.

The strawberry blonde swallows as her fingernails dig into her palm slightly. "I don't like this place," she mutters.

As her eyes flick back up to the motel, a shiver runs down Charlotte's spine. "Yeah, me either," she agrees. "There's something about it that's freaking me out."

"I don't think the people who own this place like this place," Allison tells them with raised brows as she returns having heard their conversation. As she takes in the apprehension on their faces, she sighs. "Hey, it's just for a night," she tries to reassure them.

Lydia closes her eyes as Allison walks off to their assigned room. And as if herself and her sister share the same thoughts, they lock eyes. "A lot can happen in one night," Lydia whispers. 

Quickly following after the brunette, Charlotte tries to ignore the pit of dread slowly growing as they pass numerous locked doors. Her eyes flick around anxiously and she tries to take purposefully deep breaths. It doesn't do much. The whole corridor is lit by a few flickering bulbs hanging on by their last threads. It's like they've walked into a horror movie. She needs a bottle of vodka. Maybe Scott and Stiles have finally started taking drugs and have some on them...

Lydia's eyebrows furrow in concern when she glances to her and notices her pale face. "Hey, you okay?" she asks softly.

Charlotte nods and plasters on a small smile. "Yeah. Just... I really don't like this place. I can't explain it, but I think we should try and convince Coach to let us leave."

Lydia sighs. "I know, I feel the same," she agrees. She looks back up to Allison up ahead and gives the girl a small smile. "But let's just try to distract ourselves."

As they enter the room marked with two-hundred and seventeen, Charlotte feels a tiny bit better. Although its cheap with a few stains on the carpet and one of the lightbulbs blown, it's sort of comforting. She grabs the remote to the television and clicks the power button repeatedly. But when the screen fails to light up, she dumps her bag on the bed closest to the door and huffs a sigh. She collapses onto the mattress with a groan.

"You're gonna die first," Allison tells her in amusement.

At her attempt to lighten the mood, Charlotte giggles. "I guess it's better me than you guys."

Lydia scoffs. "You guess?" They all laugh. Once grabbing the towel on the end of her bed, Lydia grimaces at the potent smell of smoke reeking off it, like someone's dragged a cigarette across the material. "These are disgusting. I'm gonna go find some more."

Hauling herself off the bed, Charlotte nods. "I'll come with you, I wanna see if someone can replace the remote for the TV."

Allison smiles at them and ties her hair back away from her face. "My towel isn't too bad," she says. "So I think I'll have a shower. I'll see you later?"

The siblings nod in agreement. But right before Lydia opens the door, she turns back to the girl they're leaving alone. "You sure you're going to be okay on your own?"

"I'll be fine," Allison reassures them with a wave of her hand. "Go."

As they walk back down the hallway to the reception, the girls fall into a comfortable silence. Pulling out her phone, Charlotte messages Scott to check in with him.

Scooter

You guys ok??

Yeah all good.
Where's your room?

217 you?

110.

I bet you Coach put us far apart on purpose
See you later and stay safe...
This place is weird

After a minute passes and she still hasn't received a reply from her best friend, she pockets the phone. Lydia glances to her with a small smile. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just checking in with Scott," she responds.

"You did amazing, you know," the strawberry blonde says with a proud smile. "Stitching him up."

Charlotte's cheeks flush at the compliment and she shakes her head. "It was nothing-"

"No, you saved his life," Lydia firmly replies. "If you hadn't done it..." She gives her twin's hand a gentle squeeze. "You saved his life, Lottie."

As the words sink in, her eyes light up. "Yeah," Charlotte whispers. "Yeah, I did."

Lydia chuckles. "You'll be an incredible doctor, you know that, right?" She glances down to her shoes and her smile stretches wider. But when her side is nudged, Charlotte's eyes flick up and her back straightens when she realises they've arrived at the reception. As Lydia drops the set of towels onto the counter of the reception desk, she sighs and speaks toward the woman with her back facing them. "Excuse me? The card of the dresser says we have a non-smoking room, but somehow... all our towels reek of nicotine," she murmurs the last part under her breath.

The receptionist turns around and her eyes flick between the two girls. "Sorry about that, sweetheart."

Noticing her sister tense up, Charlotte steps forward and stands beside her, her eyes landing anywhere but the tracheostomy tube in the woman's throat. "Look, lady, can we just get some more towels? And some batteries for the TV remote, please."

Lydia, however, is distracted by something else, and she momentarily forgets about their purpose of venturing outside their rooms. "What's that?" Charlotte follows her line of sight and her brows crease together as she finds the numbers framed up on the back wall; one-hundred and ninety-eight. "That number?"

"It's a kind of inside thing for the motel... My husband insists on keeping it up."

"What do you mean?"

"It's a little bit morbid, to be honest. You sure you girls wanna know?"

The siblings share a look then nod. "Tell us," Lydia says.

"We're not gonna make the top of anyone's list when it comes to customer satisfaction."

Charlotte quietly snorts. "No fucking way," she mutters. 

"But we are the number one in California when it comes to one disturbing little detail. Since opening, more than any other motel in California, we have the most guest suicides."

If her nervousness hadn't reached an all-time high yet, it has now. Charlotte dryly swallows as the woman's lips curl into a sadistic smile, almost like she's proud of the number. Her hands begin to shake on the wooden tabletop as the words finally sink in. The motel they're staying in for the night is infamously known for their abnormally high suicide rates. "One hundred and ninety-eight?" she whispers in horror.

"And counting!" she confirms with that same sinister grin.

As soon as the chilling cackle leaves her lips, Lydia grabs onto her sister's hand tightly. "Forget the towels?"

Charlotte nods. "Forget the towels," she repeats. The pair spin around and race down the pathway to their room, both equally as terrified as the other that the woman might be following them. After her sister barges through the door, Charlotte quickly slams it shut.

Screwing her eyes shut tightly, Lydia pushes hair out of her eyes and jabs a finger in the direction they had come from. "What the fuck is this place?" she questions the blonde in alarm.

"I don't know," Charlotte responds with a shake of her head. "When I thought it couldn't get worse, it does..."

The bathroom door creaks open and Allison dries her damp hair with her cleaner towel. Her eyebrows furrow at their empty hands. "What happened to the towels?" she asks in confusion.

"Fuck the towels," Charlotte says with wide eyes. "You will not believe what just happened."

After listening to the girls recount their spine-chilling story, Allison looks between them with her mouth agape. "One-hundred and ninety-eight?" she repeats in disbelief.

Lydia nods, occasionally looking over to her sister who continues to pace up and down the room. "Yeah, and we're talking forty years. On average, that's..."

"Four-point-nine-five a year," Charlotte finishes. She places a hand onto her forehead. "For my sake, let's round it up to five because I don't know how you could have 'four-point-nine-five' deaths a year... Like, what, do you leave a leg or something? No 'cause they'd still be dead..."

Lydia softly sighs at her nervous rambling. "But who commemorates that with a framed number? Who does that? Who?"

"She does!" Charlotte exclaims as she drops down onto the end of her bed.

Allison takes a seat beside her and takes her hand, entwining their fingers together. "And they're all suicides?" she queries.

Lydia nods. "Yes," she answers shortly. "Hanging, throat-cutting, pill-popping, both barrels of a shotgun in the mouth suicides." When she looks back to her sister and finds her with her head in her hands, she gnaws on her lip. "How you doing, Lottie?"

"I'm fine," she mumbles. "I just want to get out of he-"

"Which... which one do you want?"

Allison's eyes dart over to her when she abruptly stops talking, her head tilted to the side as her face is scrunched up in concentration as if she is listening to someone talk her ear off. "Hey, Charles?"

But Charlotte doesn't hear her. Her head snaps over to Lydia. "Did you hear that?"

The brunette's brows furrow. "Hear what?" she asks in confusion.

"I heard it," Lydia whispers. The siblings lock eyes, their expressions one of complete fear.

"I don't know. The smaller one, I guess..."

"It's okay. Smaller's better; there's less kick."

Charlotte's eyes dart around the room and they finally stop on a vent over Allison's bed. Lydia quickly finds what she's staring at and joins her. Both girls stand up on the mattress to get closer, their breathing becoming shallow out of horror because of what they've realised they're listening to.

"I'll chamber the round."

"All right, so..."

"Wait, wait! When do I... I mean, do you count?"

A quiet sob leaves Charlotte's mouth as she clasps a hand over her lips. Lydia grabs onto her hand with a bone crushing grip. Allison's eyes dart between them, feeling completely lost as to what might be going on.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll-I'll count to three."

"So after three or on three?"

"You tell me."

Watching them in worry, Allison takes slow steps toward them. "Charlotte?" she calls out. "Lydia?"

"One... two..."

"Oh, my God," Charlotte whispers, her voice wavering in panic. This is happening. It's actually happening. Her breath catches in her throat at the next sentence.

"Then pull the trigger."

Tears spring into Lydia's eyes as neither of the girls seem to be able to look away from the vent. "Oh, my God... Oh, my God!"

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"One... two..."

A gunshot bursts out of the vent and rings through their ears. Lydia loudly gasps and her hand flies up to cover her mouth as she stumbles back off the bed. A tear runs down Charlotte's cheek as she continues to stare at the source of the noise. She's frozen. She can't move a muscle. "What is it?" Allison presses them in alarm, startled by their reactions to something she can't hear or see. "Guys, what happened?"

Lydia turns around to the brunette and brushes the tears off her cheeks. "Did you hear that?" she asks in a shaky voice.

"Hear what?"

"The two people in the other room-"

Another tear drops from her eye straight onto the covers of the bed as Charlotte continues to stare at the vent. She's trying to comprehend what they had just heard. "They shot each other," she finishes hoarsely. Breaking out of her bubble of shock, the blonde-haired girl jumps off the bed and races out the door, her sister close behind. Charlotte twists the doorknob to room two-hundred and sixteen. The trio are just as surprised as one another when the unlocked door swings open, revealing a void of shadows and darkness behind it. "Hello?" she calls out.

Lydia fumbles for the light switch on the wall and she shares a look of panic with her sister as the room remains unlit. With Allison close behind, the Martin siblings cautiously enter the dark room, immediately engulfed into pitch black darkness. It's eerily calm, the silence causing goosebumps to erupt onto Charlotte's arms. Squinting her eyes, Charlotte reaches her hand out to come into contact with a floor lamp.

The three girls wince when multiple industrial lamps switch on, the light temporarily blinding them all. Then they take in their surroundings. Construction materials are strewn around the rooms with tarps covering the flooring. A heater sits in the centre, emitting a soothing, orange glow. Lydia and Charlotte spin around, frantically looking around for the dead bodies. "It had to be right here," Lydia exclaims. "It was a guy and a girl, and, I mean, they sounded younger, but... they were here."

Charlotte blinks back her tears of frustration when she realises that the room really is empty. "They were here!"

Allison nods. "I believe you," she says softly. "Hey, of course I believe you. Why wouldn't I?"

The blonde brushes the tear off her cheek and turns her back to the pair behind her. She continues to scour the room and her frustration only builds as she comes back with the same conclusion. There's nothing here. Every bone in her body tells her that two people died in here. Then her eyes fall onto a section of the wood panelling. With a frown, she steps closer to it. "Lydia?"

The girl joins her in studying the wall. "Yeah, I see it," she confirms quietly.

To them, the grains of wood appear to have formed into shapes. And they're shapes that look incredibly familiar to those of human faces. Screaming faces. Lydia and Charlotte share a look of alarm. They need to get out of this place as soon as possible.

»»———-　　———-««

Lydia glances to her sister for a second before continuing to grab her various belongings and shoving them into her handbag. "You know, there is something seriously fucked up with this place," she announces.

Charlotte leans her head against the headboard of her bed. "Agreed."

"We need to leave," Lydia states firmly.

Allison folds her legs over each other from her place beside the blonde. "But they were suicides, not murders," she points out. "And it's not like this place is haunted, right?"

"Oh it's haunted." Charlotte shudders. "I've been saying all night that this place is the perfect setting for a horror film."

"Maybe it is," Lydia adds. "You know, I bet that couple made their suicide pact in that very room! Maybe that's why they're renovating; maybe they've been scraping brain matter off the wood panelling!"

As Allison begins to understand just how scared they both are, a soft sigh of defeat leaves her lips. "Maybe we should go find out."

But when the trio arrive at the reception desk, the woman from earlier is nowhere to be found. Lydia closes her eyes. "Well, there goes that..."

Charlotte kicks a nearby rock with a huff. "Of course she's gone," she mumbles. "Probably disappeared to go murder someone."

"Didn't you say the sign said one-ninety-eight?"

At Allison's question, the twins share a look and nod. "Yeah, we did," Lydia speaks slowly. "Why?" When their eyes find what the girl is staring at, their eyes widen at the framed number on the wall. It now reads two-hundred and one. "It was one-ninety-eight," Lydia says frantically. "I swear to God it was one-ninety-eight."

"Yeah, it definitely was," Charlotte agrees. Her eyes squint slightly as she stares at the number. There's something within her that thinks that there's something more than a few suicides going on here.

"Okay, what does that mean?" Allison asks. "That there's been three more suicides?"

The blonde turns to her with exasperation. "What do we look like? Walking, talking, records of fucking death?"

Allison's eyes widen in surprise and she grimaces. "No! No, sorry, that's not what I meant."

Charlotte sighs. "No, I'm sorry. I'm just on edge."

Taking a deep breath, Lydia tears her eyes off the number. "It could also mean that three more are about to happen..." The temperature in the air drops twenty degrees. "Charles, what are you doing?"

She holds her phone up. "Calling wannabe Sherlock. We're gonna need help."

»»———-　　———-««

After meeting Stiles back in their room, they explain the current situation to him quickly and what had occurred all within the last half an hour. But then Allison fills them in on something that shocks Charlotte Martin to her core. She stares at the girl in disbelief. "I'm sorry, he did what?" Stiles winces at her ear-splitting shriek.

Casting her eyes onto the floor, Allison sighs. "The last time I saw him act like that was during the full moon."

Charlotte blinks quickly. She's still hung up on the new information. "Scott McCall came into our bathroom while you were having a shower?"

When her voice reaches a new level of volume, Stiles covers his ears. "Okay, yeah, I'm totally agreeing with you there and I know Charles will too once she calms down." The girl mentioned barely hears him. "He was definitely a little off with me, too. But actually, it was Boyd who was really off." He frowns. "I watched him put his fist through the vending machine."

"Did you raid it?"

Stiles glances to his best friend and scoffs. "No because that would be called stealing," he denies in a pointed tone of voice. When she arches a brow, he sighs. "Yeah, okay, maybe a few things..." Charlotte grins.

"See, it's the motel! Either we need to get out of here right now, or..." Lydia turns around to open the nearby bedside table and takes the red Bible out.

Charlotte tilts her head to the side in amusement. "What are you going to do with that? Perform an exorcism?"

"Maybe!" Lydia exclaims. Her sister shrugs in agreement. Stiles shakes his head at how comfortable she appears to possibly perform an exorcism on their best friend. "We need to get out of here now, before all the werewolves go crazy and kill us."

"Okay, let's just hold on, all right?" Stiles draws all the attention to him, like a spotlight had been placed upon him. "What if it's not just the motel?" The girls look at him curiously. "You guys said the number in the office went up by three, right?"

And it's then that the realisation dawns upon her. "Three sacrifices," Charlotte says quietly.

He nods. "What if this time, it's three werewolves?"

"Scott, Isaac, and Boyd," Allison mutters.

"And Ethan," Charlotte jumps in. "We can't forget Ethan. Just because he's evil doesn't mean he doesn't go bark, bark."

Stiles rolls his eyes but he nods in agreement. "Scott, Isaac, Boyd, and Ethan... Maybe we were meant to come here," he deduces.

The blonde stares at him incredulously. "Our destiny is to come to some creepy ass ghost motel and get murdered?"

"Can we please just get the hell out of here?" Lydia questions loudly.

"Done. I'm on board," Charlotte replies almost instantly.

But Stiles doesn't respond, his eyes trained on the Bible in Lydia's hands.

Stiles remains staring at the book in Lydia's hands. "Wait, hang on." With his eyebrows furrowed, he snatches it out of her hands. "Let me see this..." He flicks through a few pages before finding one bookmarked with a clipping of a news article. His friends crowd around him to get a better look. "'Twenty-eight year old man hangs himself at the infamous Glen Capri.'"

Charlotte's eyes narrow when she notices the corner of another piece of paper in the book. She snatches the book off the boy and vigorously shakes it. Several articles fall out. "No, no, look at these two," Lydia points out, placing the pair of clippings side by side. "They both mention room two-seventeen."

"Holy shit," Charlotte says in horror. "All of these articles are suicides that happened in this room.

"So if every room has a Bible..."

Lydia nods grimly. "Which means there could be articles in all the rooms," she finishes off for Allison.

"That's a beautiful thing," Stiles comments sarcastically. "Most places leave a mint under the pillow; this one leaves a record of all the horrible deaths that occurred."

Charlotte sucks in a deep breath. "What if the room next door has one about the couple?" Everyone slowly turns to stare at the door, hesitating to make a move. With no warning, Stiles sprints over and flings it open. Right behind him, the girls watch him struggle with the door handle of the neighbouring room and share a look of confusion. "That was not locked before," Charlotte says, her voice raising in panic.

"Okay, we need to get Scott, Isaac, and Boyd out of-"

"No," Charlotte interrupts Allison. "We need to get into this room." Seconds after her lips close, a loud electric whir is heard from behind the door. "Please tell me I'm not the only one who heard that?"

"It sounds like someone turned a handsaw on."

At Allison's words, Stiles freezes from having started to walk away and races back over, his eyes wide in alarm. "Handsaw?"

"Move," Charlotte orders.

The boy looks at her with narrowed eyes. "Excuse me?" he retorts.

"I said, move. I'm opening the door."

He scoffs. "And how are you gonna do th-"

The rest of his sentence is drowned out by the sound of her boot firmly colliding with the door. Wood splinters under her shoe and the locked door gives way. Charlotte stares at it in awe, a grin pulling at her lips. "It worked," she whispers to herself. However, her small bubble of happiness is broken when she finds Ethan standing with his shirt open, the handsaw they had heard hovering above his exposed torso.

Without another word, Stiles runs inside and begins to wrestle with the werewolf. Noticing the power cord attached to a socket beside her, Charlotte pulls the plug out just as Stiles manages to get the power tool away from Ethan.  She rushes forward to help him up when he falls to the floor, catching himself inches away from the tool slowly whirring to a stop.

The room falls into silence, tension so thick that it could be cut with one of Allison's ring daggers. A second barely passes before Ethan's claws flick out and he raises his hands up to his chest. Allison and Charlotte lock eyes with one another and give subtle nods. They dart over to the werewolf, each tightly grabbing onto each of his arms. The three wrestle with one another, however, Ethan's will to harm himself combined with his supernatural strength it ultimately enough for him to rip out of their grips.

In the process, he stumbles forward causing his hand briefly touching the heater in the centre of the room. The boy yelps in pain and the four teenagers watch in shock as he scrambles up off the floor, clutching onto his wrist. "What just happened?" When no one answers him, Ethan runs out the room.

Charlotte groans in frustration. "Ethan, wait!"

After glancing over his shoulder, he realises that the group are now following him down the staircase outside. "Look, I don't know how I got there or what I was doing."

"Are you okay?"

Ethan nods at the blonde-haired girl. "I'm fine," he brushes her off.

"Okay, you could be a little more helpful, you know? We did just save your life," Stiles points out. He flinches at the glare of daggers sent his way by his best friend.

Ethan finishes buttoning up his shirt back up and gives them all one final look. "And you probably shouldn't have," he says bluntly, turning around and heading back to his assigned room.

Charlotte's eyes immediately soften at his words and she sighs as he disappears around a corner. "Well, what now?" Lydia asks.

Her sister clears her throat. "Stiles and I will go try and find Scott." Charlotte nods to Lydia and Allison. "You guys go find Boyd and Isaac." The girls nod and head back up the stairs to the werewolves' room. Feeling his eyes bore into the side of her head, she sighs. "What?"

Stiles purses his lips. "What, what?"

She rolls her eyes. "You know what. Why are you looking at me like that? It's the same way you've been looking at Lydia all night, and it's not the normal way you look at her."

Knowing that she won't drop this until he gives her an adequate answer, his shoulders slump in defeat. "I didn't want to say anything before, but this... Everything we're going through, we've kinda been through something like this before. A lot like this."

Charlotte folds her arms over her hoodie and kisses her teeth. "Nope, doesn't ring a bell. Sorry to break it to you, but I don't do this shit in my spare time."

"Your birthday party," he says hesitantly. "The night Lydia poisoned everyone with wolfsbane."

Her eyes narrow to slits. "What are you trying to say? You think my sister has poisoned all the wolf boys or something to get them to kill themselves? Next thing you're gonna say is that you think I've got something to do with this, too." When his eyes flick down to the ground in embarrassment, she loudly scoffs in disbelief. "Oh, fuck you, Stiles!"

As she walks off quickly like she'd rather be anywhere else but with him, Stiles briefly closes his eyes and chases after her. "No! I'm sorry, I- That- I don't mean she's trying to kill people." Her jaw clenches. "That either of you are! I just mean that maybe she's somehow involved in getting people to kill themselves, you know...?"

She spins on her heels to stare at him. "If I were you, I'd stop talking." He winces. "I'm going to remind you that Lydia was manipulated by Peter Hale last time. It isn't either of us." The girl covers her eyes with her hands. "It's this place, there's something wrong with..."

Stiles' eyes flick across her face when she trails off. She's distant and distracted, like she's not properly with him anymore. "Uh, Charles? Hey, what's going on?"

"Stop! Please, just stop. What do you want? I don't know what you want!"

He takes a step closer to her and realises she's probably experiencing something similar to what her and Lydia had heard earlier. "What do you hear?" he asks her in concern.

"Quiet!"

Charlotte's eyes screw shut and she swallows the lump in her throat. "A baby," she whispers. "There's a baby crying."

"Just stop!"

She looks back to Stiles as they start up the staircase. "I-There's lots of..." She frowns in concentration. "It sounds windy."

"I know it's high, but we're both going to sleep now. It's okay."

He watches her breathing become shorter from anxiety, and a sob leaves her lips as she spins around with tears in her eyes. "She's going to kill the baby."

Stiles nods and gently places his hands on her upper arms. "Okay, where? Do you know where they are?" Her eyes close one more and tears trickle down her cheeks.

"Don't look down."

Charlotte's eyes snap open as she gasps. "Someone's going to jump off the roof." As they thunder up the multiple flights of stairs, her brain churns as she tries to figure out who they would find. It's either Boyd, Isaac, or Scott.

How wrong they were.

When she reaches the landing point, the girl screeches to a halt and quickly puts a hand out in front of Stiles. He looks at her in confusion and as a response, her eyes flick forward. At the far end of the rooftop stands a someone. Charlotte takes a deep breath and begins to slowly and cautiously walk over. She studies their body: dark hair and tanned skin. It's neither Isaac or Boyd. Her heart thuds quickly as she calls out, "Scott?"

The boy scoffs angrily. "Scott?" he spits out. "Why are you always so worried about Scott?"

Her lips part in shock as she glances over to Stiles who stands beside her, equally as stunned as she is. "Tyler?" As he slowly turns his head over to them, the tears on his face shine from the moon's glow, his brown eyes irritated from crying for a decent period of time. Charlotte takes another step toward him and Tyler does the same. But his is closer to the edge. She quickly stops herself and puts her hands up the air. "Woah, Ty, okay, just hold on."

His eyes flick between his childhood friends. "Don't come any closer," he warns.

She takes another deep breath and tries to think of what to do. Her mind comes back blank. For once, Charlotte Martin has no idea what to do. She's only been in Tyler's position before.

Stiles holds a hand up, his eyes staying locked on the boy the entire time. "Okay, you got it," he says with a soft voice. "Do you wanna tell us what you're doing up here?"

Tyler tentatively nods. "I-I jus-I can't keep lying anymore. I can't keep lying to you, to Scott... I can't keep everything to myself, it's eating me up inside." His eyes close as another tear drops. "The guilt..."

Charlotte watches him with genuine confusion. "What are you talking about, Ty?"

He looks at her like she's the only person in the world, almost forgetting about Stiles' presence. "I've been such a shit friend," he whispers. "You don't deserve me in your life, Lottie." Her lip wobbles when his voice cracks. "I promised that things would be different this time and I lied. I just keep lying."

Her tongue darts out to wet her suddenly dry lips and she nods. She takes an incredibly small, subtle step toward him. "I've been a shit friend too. More than you know."

"No, you don't get it!" Tyler yells in frustration. However, the yell isn't what shocks his friends the most. What shocks Stiles and Charlotte the most is when his eyes involuntarily flash a deep ruby. The same colour as Derek's. The same as Peter. As they stare at him, Tyler visibly flinches and he nods. His eyes fade back to their normal chocolate brown. "That's it, your expressions. I'm a monster! I killed someone; I've killed people!"

Charlotte shakes her head, trying to push back what they had just discovered and to focus on getting him down from the roof. "You know what? I don't care."

Tyler's head snaps back to her in surprise. "You don't hate me?" he asks quietly.

"Of course I don't hate you," she says with a small smile. "But I am incredibly confused right now. Can we talk about it inside? Maybe get a hot chocolate or something?" When he nods after a few moments, a short sigh of relief leaves her lips. "Okay, is it all right if I come closer?"

Tyler hesitates and his eyes move back down to the edge. Almost unconsciously, he takes another step toward it. He's lingering far too dangerously close to the ledge. "I-I..."

Charlotte and Stiles look to each other and nod in determination, running forwards and using Tyler's brief hesitation to catch him before he can do something he wouldn't be able to take back. With tight grips on either of his arms, Tyler spends a few seconds fighting against them before his body falls limp. The boy sobs as Charlotte pulls him into a tight hug. "You're okay," she murmurs. "It's okay." She catches Stiles' eyes and they share a small smile with each other.

Now they just have to find Scott.

»»———-　　———-««

After leaving Tyler with Ethan, much to Stiles and Charlotte's surprise, the pair join back up with Lydia and Allison to catch up on the most recent events. The brunette runs a hand through her hair anxiously. "We can't find him anywhere," she stresses.

Stiles shakes his head, trying not to think of the worst-case scenario like Charlotte already is. They quickly make their way down the steps that lead to the parking lot, and all of their eyes dart around for any sign of their friend. "It's happening to him too, isn't it?"

Charlotte nods. "Good chance," she confirms. After what they'd just been through with Tyler, she's expecting the worst with Scott. When her eyes finally land onto the distant figure in the parking lot, Charlotte stops breathing. For a few split seconds, she dies. "Oh, my God," she whispers, completely and utterly petrified. And when her friends follow her line of sight, that same fear washes over them.

A few metres away from the parked yellow bus, Scott stands drenched in the flammable liquid, the empty red gasoline containers thrown off to the side. Tightly clutched in his hand is a flare, the flames licking the air as they try to find something to latch onto. He is so out of it that he either doesn't hear the group cautiously approach, or he simply doesn't care.

"Scott?" Charlotte calls out, her voice shaking. As they move around so they are all facing one another, she notices the defeat etched on his face. This is her brother. "Hey, Scott?" she tries again. His eyes slowly trail up to her meet hers and she gives him the best smile she can. "Hey there," she greets him softly. "Do you wanna tell me what's going on?"

The flammable liquid drips off his hair, adding to the sizeable puddles by his feet. The three words he says next breaks every single heart there with him. "There's no hope."

Shaking her head, Allison gives him a tearful resemblance of a smile. "What do you mean, Scott? There's always hope." Tears burn Charlotte's eyes. Not always.

He continues to stare emptily into space, like he hasn't fully registered that they're with him. "Not for me... Not for Derek."

Charlotte sucks in a deep breath as she watches the flame of the flare flicker, the reflection flashing in Scott's irises. She firmly shakes her head. "No. No, Scott, what happened to Derek wasn't your fault."

Stiles nods. "You know that Derek wasn't your fault," he reiterates.

"Every time I try to fight back, it just gets worse. People keep getting hurt. People keep getting killed."

As drops of the gasoline continue to drip off Scott's drenched clothes, they realise that something needs to be done. Quickly. "Scott, listen to me, okay?" Stiles takes a small step forward to Scott, carefully making sure he doesn't make big and sudden movements. "This isn't you, all right? This is someone inside your head, telling you to do this. Okay? Now-"

"What if it isn't?" Scott interjects. "What if it just is me? What if doing this is actually the best thing that I could do for everyone else?" He occasionally stutters, the sobs coming up to break his words. "It all started that night- the night I got bitten. You remember the way it was before that?" Stiles and Charlotte share a look with each other and nod. They know. "It was just the three of us. We were... we were nothing. We weren't popular. We weren't good at lacrosse. We weren't important. We were no one. Maybe I should just be no one again." Scott finally lifts his eyes, looking directly at his two best friends. "No one at all."

The flare in Scott's hand shifts slightly and something in Stiles flips. "Scott, just listen to me, okay? You're not no one." A step forward. "Okay, you're someone." Another few steps. "Scott, you're my best friend. Okay? And I need you. Scott, you're my brother." The gasoline mixes with the tears on Scott's cheeks as his lip wobbles. "All right? So..."

Everyone's eyes widen when Stiles takes a step into the puddle of flammable liquid. "Stiles," Charlotte whispers warningly. He quickly looks back to her, wordlessly asking for her to trust him. So she nods, praying that he knows what he is doing. Allison's hand reaches out and grabs onto Charlotte's with the hope to bring each other some sort of comfort. It brings her more than she could ever say.

Stiles looks up to meet his best friend's eyes again as tears drop down his cheeks. "S-So, if you're gonna do this, then... I think you're just gonna have to take me with you, then." Scott's shoulders shake as he sobs, his eyes flicking down when Stiles places his hand on the flare. Stiles grabs onto the flare and slowly pulls it out of his grip. His mistake is that he blindly tosses it away.

And it lands far too close than he would have wanted it to.

Scott breaks down as he finally comes out of whatever trance that had been binding the werewolves all night. What neither he or Stiles notice is how a gust of wind pushes the flare just a few millimetres, then it properly rolls, heading straight toward them as they're about to embrace one another. Then the gasoline is lit aflame.

"No!" Lydia screams.

Charlotte crashes to the ground just as booming explosion reaches her ears and sudden wave of burning heat engulfs her body. She quickly pushes herself up off the ground as she looks around, trying to find each of her friends. Then she's greeted by the body that had pushed her to the ground. She breathes a small sigh of relief as Allison clutches onto her. Over the brunette's shoulder, her eyes dart around and her body slightly relaxes when she finds her sister, Scott, and Stiles a few metres away, safe and accounted for.

But when the girl glances back over to the site of the explosion, her eyes widen as she catches a quick glimpse of something in the roaring flames. A dark shape slowly rises within the fire, slowly standing up to its full height. Ugly scars cover their face in slashes, and Charlotte's heart races as she forces herself to close her eyes. When she looks back, all that remains is the fire where the five teenagers stood less than a minute ago.

»»———-　　———-««

Cradling two mugs of peppermint tea, Charlotte walks into the motel room and softly smiles at Scott as she hands him one of the cups. She takes the seat beside him on his bed and quietly asks, "How you doing?"

He takes a small sip of the steaming hot water and replies, "Like I just tried to set myself on fire."

Stiles chuckles from his bed. "Well, you did, so that would explain it."

Charlotte rolls her eyes, a smile pulling at her lips when a quiet laugh comes from Scott. "Do you wanna go home?" she questions. "Because I can call my mom, she'd be more than happy to come get us... Or Chris would too, Allison said he offered before."

Scott glances to the alarm clock on the beside table and shakes his head. "It's two in the morning," he says with a yawn. "By the time we get home... it's not worth it. Let's just sleep on the bus instead, at least all of us can be together."

She slowly nods in agreement. "Okay, well, if witch bitch shows up I won't hesitate to slit their throat."

He smiles. "I know you will." Scott sighs and sets the mug aside, collapsing back on the mattress. "So, who else... you know...?"

His friends look to each other. "Boyd and Ethan," Stiles tells him. "From what Lydia and Allison told us, Isaac was hiding under the bed; probably just scared."

"He was having a PTSD episode," Charlotte corrects. "He wasn't 'just scared.'"

Scott nods then his eyes narrow at the silence that fills the room. He can tell they're hesitant to bring something up. "There was someone else, wasn't there?"

Stiles nervously glances to the blonde. "Look, why don't we get some sleep and just talk about it tomorrow?"

Scott clears his throat and Charlotte sighs, knowing there is no way to avoid this conversation. "It was Tyler," she says gently, as if however she voices it would elicit a certain reaction. Scott's eyes widen. "We had to pull him off the roof."

He pushes his back up against the headboard and looks between them with shock and confusion. "Tyler? What the fuck was Tyler doing up there? Why was he up there?" When Charlotte and Stiles both raise their eyebrows in a pointed manner, Scott's eyes widen even further as he finally catches on. "Hold on, he's a werewolf?"

Stiles nods. "And here's an even bigger kick to the balls: his eyes were red."

"Red? Why would they-" Scott's face falls. "Oh, my God," he murmurs. The boy jumps off the bed and begins to pace around the room anxiously. "Do you reckon he's with them?"

"Wouldn't be surprised," Stiles mutters.

Charlotte rolls her eyes. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Do you really think that it's a coincidence he showed up the same time as Deucalion? It was already suspicious without knowing he was a werewolf."

She sighs. "Okay, it's not the worst theory you've had," she mumbles.

Scott looks at them in bewilderment. "You think my cousin is with Deucalion?" he questions incredulously.

"Yeah," Stiles confirms immediately. "Wanna give any other theories to why he's here?"

"He's been planning to visit for ages," Scott says. "Plus, we've never actually seen him with the pack."

Stiles shrugs at the response. "Okay, he could be, like, their secret weapon. Maybe the plan wasn't for us to know. Obviously the whole 'go jump off a roof' thing wasn't part of it..."

In thought, Charlotte takes a long sip of her tea. "What, you mean like they're pretending they don't know each other?"

"Exactly. Pretend they don't know each other at school, then at night they get all cuddly together in the wolf den and delve into whatever evil plan they've got to take us all down."

Scott continues to shake his head in denial. "No, I don't believe it. I won't believe it. Not until I know for certain. Do we know who he's staying with? Is Aunt Cassie with him?"

"No," Charlotte answers. She sighs. "He's with someone else."

The boys look to her in confusion. "How do you know?" Stiles questions her with furrowed brows.

"Because I've been making an effort to hang out with him," she says. Stiles purses his lips. "I've been introduced to Kali, we ran into her a few weeks ago by accident."

She misses the way they look to each other in alarm. "What did you just say?" Scott whispers.

"Supernatural hearing my ass," she retorts.

"Charlotte." Her brow arches at Scott's firm tone. "Did you say Kali?"

She slowly nods. "Yeah, and why do both of you look like you know her?"

Stiles groans and waves a hand over to the werewolf. "And there's your proof," he says.

"Will someone please fill me in?"

"Kali is part of Deucalion's pack."

Charlotte's eyes widen in horror. She's met someone who might possible have had something to do with Erica's death. "Oh damn," she whispers. The three teens fall back onto the beds at the same time.

"Yeah. Oh damn."

»»———-　　———-««

"I don't want to know." Coach's eyes narrow as he looks between the group on the bus. At Bobby Finstock's voice, Charlotte's eyes flutter open and her head lifts up from Allison's shoulder. "I really don't want to know. But in case you missed the announcement, the meet's cancelled, so we're heading home." Turning to the side, he gestures for the rest of the students to come inside. "Pack it in! Pack it in!"

"Thank God," she whispers in relief. The brunette shifts in the seat and Charlotte's eyes widen. "No! You're my pillow, don't move."

Allison giggles and holds her hands up. "Not going anywhere." Then her face falls serious as she tilts her head to look at her friend who loudly yawns. "Are you okay? Last night was really heavy."

Charlotte gives her a small smile. "I'm okay. Thanks for asking, it means a lot."

"Just..." Allison's eyes soften with concern. "I know that it was probably triggering."

"Yeah, it was." Charlotte sighs. "But I'm doing okay. Just glad we saved everyone."

At her words, Lydia turns around in the row in front of them and looks up from her phone. "Have you spoken to Tyler?" she questions.

The blonde-haired girl shakes her head and briefly glances to the teenager up front with Danny. "No, kinda been avoiding him," she admits sheepishly.

With a sad smile, Lydia says, "Give him a chance to explain."

"Explain?" Charlotte repeats. "Dee, are you serious?"

Allison sighs and rests her head on Charlotte's shoulder. "She's got a point... I mean, it's not like any of us were forthcoming about our drama. So why would he feel the need to?" Charlotte nods and stares out the window as the engine rumbles.

"Coach, can I see your whistle for a second?" Lydia doesn't give the man a chance to respond as she stands up and takes the whistle off his neck, inspecting it closely before returning to her seat.

"I'm gonna need that back!"

The boys, Charlotte, and Allison closely watch in interest as she blows the whistle, the usually shrill sound muffled by her hands covering any openings. The shock on Lydia's own face is then mirrored by her friends as she turns her palm around to show them what has come out. Charlotte's eyes widen at the violet powder stained on her palm. "Holy shit, is that wolfsbane?"

Stiles nods. "So, every time Coach blew the whistle on the bus, Scott, Isaac, Boyd, Ethan, and Tyler-"

"We all inhaled it," Scott finishes.

"You were all poisoned by it," Charlotte corrects grimly.

"So, that's how the Darach got in their heads," Stiles concludes. "That's how they did it." Making a split-second decision, he grabs the whistle out of Lydia's hand and leans over Scott to open the window and chucks it out onto the road.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, Stilinski!"

𝘪 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘵𝘵'𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘪𝘴. 𝘸𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 🫶

𝘪𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘰𝘳 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮, 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘪𝘰. 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺 🤍