Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Sunday, January 9th, 2011 10:47 P.M.

The warm glow of the desk lamp was the only light source Charlie had to work with as she silently folded and put away her clean clothes while also picking out an outfit for the first day back to school.  She smiled as she held up one of her most recent acquisitions in the form of a gray hoodie that was obviously too big for her.  She gently set it on the back of her wobbly desk chair knowing that she would have to return it eventually.  A thud from out in the hallway forced her to pause and hold her breath, listening closely for heavy footsteps heading towards her bedroom door.  When no footsteps sounded, she crept to the door, opening it a crack, and looking towards the end of the hall that emptied out into the living room.  The glow of the television and the voices of sportscasters drifted out of the speakers followed by the clanking of glass bottles.  She waited in the threshold of her room for a few more moments before she was satisfied that her brother was otherwise occupied.

Charlie closed and locked her door, resting her forehead against the weathered wood as she did her best to calm her racing heart.  Although her second of calm was interrupted by the sound of her window sliding open behind her.  She spun around in time to watch the body of her best friend tumble into her room with his usual amount of grace.  Which was next to none.  She tapped her socked foot impatiently as he righted himself.  When he was upright and leaning against her bed frame, he gave her a wide grin to which she responded with an arched eyebrow.  He opens his mouth, however before he could get a word out, Charlie pressed her finger to his lips, casting a fearful glance at her locked door.

He frowned but nodded in understanding, motioning to the window and pointing to the hoodie on her chair.  She rolled her eyes and nodded, doing her best to hide the smile that spread across her face at his excited fist pump.  He scurried out of the window while the young girl slipped on the black sneakers that were at the foot of her bed.  Next, she put on the borrowed hoodie, then slid on a black beanie.  Lastly, she grabbed the fraying black ribbon that held her blue whistle.  She looked at herself in the mirror, taking it all in.

Charlie was on the short side for her age, only measuring 5’2” at her last doctor’s appointment.  Her honey blonde hair was stick straight and limp against her shoulders, except for a few strands that were stuck under the rim of the beanie, and her mascara from earlier in the day was smudged a little under her eyes, making her gray eyes appear much darker.  The gray hoodie almost swallowed her, completely hiding her purple henley and some of her dark blue jeans.  She fiddled with her faded whistle before turning away from her reflection.

She crossed her room as quietly as possible, leaning out her window, and rolled her eyes at Stiles, who was waiting for her with his arms extended towards her to help her down.  She moved to sit on the window sill, her cheeks involuntarily warming when his large hands gripped her waist to help her safely to the ground.  He released her when she was steady on her feet, then reached up to slide her window closed.  She walked farther away from the house before turning to face the spaz she called a friend.  He bounced on the balls of his feet, rushing closer to her, and tugging her in the direction of his Jeep.

“Come on!  You are not gonna believe what I just overheard!  We have got to go get Scott and hurry out to the preserve!” he whisper-shouted at her, his excited grin uncontainable.

Charlie gives him a questioning stare, playing with the zipper on the hoodie.  He rolled his eyes dramatically, pointing at his Jeep that was idling in his driveway across the street.

“Something has finally happened in this town and we are going to see it!”  He tugged on her elbow a little harder before stopping suddenly.  “Is that my hoodie?”

Charlie looked down at the warm sweatshirt, fiddling with the sleeve cuff that covered her hands completely, and shook her head unconvincingly.  He chuckled at her sheepish face, and moved behind her to push her all the way to his waiting car.  “To the McCall house!”

The ride to Scott’s house was quiet at first.  The only sound other than the bump of the road and the whistle of the wind was Stiles’ excited drumming against the steering wheel.  Charlie chewed on her lip, glancing at her friend’s profile, and lifted the whistle to her lips.  She blew a quick burst of air into the whistle causing a sharp tweet to fill the car’s cabin.  Stiles glanced over at her and chuckled at her puffed up cheeks.

“I know you’re curious, but you gotta be patient!  I promise, the wait will be worth it.”

Another short trill echoed in the cabin, the sound trailing off pitifully as she ran out of breath.  He chuckled again as he pulled onto Scott’s road.  He parked down the road and out of view from the McCall’s front door before he opened his door hastily.

“Hurry up!”

Charlie scrambled out of the vehicle after Stiles, quickly following him up the lawn to the porch railing.  Stiles reached up to grab a hold of the lattice along the side of the house and began to climb.  The girl flailed her arms, tweeting her whistle loudly.  He turned his head and shushed her, continuing on his climb.  She stamped her foot, crossed her arms, and moved to lean against the railing with a deep pout pulling at her lips.  She watched the spastic boy shimmy up the lattice on his way to the roof when his foot got tangled in the vines.  Before she could make a move to help him, the creak of the front door opening reached her ears.  She turned her head just in time to see Scott creep around the corner, baseball bat at the ready.  Her gray eyes met his deep brown ones, his expression shifting from fearful to confused.

“Charlie?”  He took a few steps closer to the porch railing, until Stiles lost his footing and slid down the roof, hanging upside down with one foot scraping the roof and the other still tangled in the vines growing on the lattice.  Both boys screamed at the sight of the other, Stiles flailing in place and Scott taking a few steps backwards.

“Stiles, what the hell are you doing?!” Scott shouted exasperated, lowering the bat to rest against his thigh.

“You weren’t answering your phone!  Why do you have a bat?”  Stiles’ body swung with the chilly breeze as he pointed at the “weapon” in their friend’s hands.

Scott frowned, his face morphing into his annoyed puppy look.  “I thought you were a predator!”

Stiles scoffed and did a double take.  “A pre… Wha?”  He turned his head to face Charlie and continued, “Can you believe him, Charlie?  He thought I was a predator.  Me!”

The blonde turned her back to the pair, hands covering her mouth as she did her best to suppress her silent giggles.  When she had her laughter under control, she faced her friends again, almost being sent into another giggle fit by the matching pouts on their faces.

Stiles shook his head and returned his attention to Scott, “Look, I know it’s late, but you gotta hear this.”

Scott glanced over at Charlie, who was usually the most level headed of the trio, and she shrugged.  “ I am just as clueless as you are ,” she signed before resting her hands on her hips.

“I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago.  Dispatch called— they’re bringing in every officer from the Beacon Department, and even state police.”

Scott frowned in confusion while Charlie waved her hand in a continue motion.

“For what?” Scott asked, failing for the ever curious boy’s trap.

Stiles could barely contain the grin that threatened to spread across his face as he said, “Two joggers found a body in the woods.”  He reached up to free his foot from the vines and dropped from the roof, somehow landing on his feet.  He stumbled a bit on the landing, but quickly righted himself, spinning to face his friends. 

Charlie frowned and tugged on the hem of his hoodie, her eyebrows pinched together tightly.  She eyed him suspiciously.  “ There is something you aren’t telling us yet, isn’t there. ”

“What, a dead body?” asked Scott, his confused frown still tugging at his lips.

Stiles grabbed the porch railing and pulled himself up to be face to face with his best friend.  He leaned closer to the curly haired boy with a sarcastic half smile.

“No, a body of water,” he stated with an obvious sarcastic tone and an eye roll, “Yes, dumbass, a dead body!”

Scott shifted his weight uncomfortably as Stiles fully climbed over the railing to stand on the wooden porch.  Charlie stayed below them in the yard, glancing between them and fiddling with the black ribbon holding her whistle.  Her bright blue fingernails picked at the fraying knot holding the whistle attached.

“You mean, like, murdered?” Scott asked, nervously looking back and forth between the two.

Stiles clicked his tongue and put his hands on his hips.  “Nobody knows yet.  Just that it was a girl, probably in her twenties.”

Scott frowned deeper, scratching the side of his head.  “Hold on, if they found the body, then what are you looking for?”

The other boy began to bounce on the balls of his feet and flail his arms.  A wide grin stretched across his face.

“That’s the best part-- they only found half,” he said excitedly, “Charlie is gonna lead us right to it, right?”

The short girl gave him an exasperated look, rolling her eyes and turning her head away from him.  Stiles hopped over the porch railing to stand in front of her.  He placed his hands on his shoulders, grinning at the annoyed glare on her face.

“Come on!  It’s the same as finding Scott’s inhaler every time he misplaces it, or my dad’s keys, only this time it’s half a dead body in the woods.”

She moved the whistle to her lips, ignoring the shake of his head, and blew a sharp, loud note to express her dislike for this plan.

Stiles winced at the noise, however his grin never faltered.  He looked over at their friend still standing on his porch, his grip on the girl’s shoulders tightening.  “We’re going.”

“You can’t expect me to find a dead body in the woods like some sort of cadaver dog!  There is absolutely a difference in lost items and half a dead person!” she signed furiously, digging her heels into the ground, trying to get Stiles to stop.

“I only got about half of that, you were going too fast, but you never know until you try!” Stiles chirped, laughing at the girl’s defeated face.

He ushered them to the Jeep, lowering the passenger side seat for Scott to crawl in the back.  Once he was settled, Stiles moved the seat back up and helped Charlie climb up into the vehicle, ignoring her pout.

The drive to the preserve was quick and quiet.  When they arrived, all three teens crawled out of the car.  The air was damp with a coming rain storm, thunder echoed in the distance.  Stiles pulled a flashlight from his pocket, clicked it on, and swung the beam around the entrance of the preserve.  He reached over and grabbed Charlie’s hand, tugging her closer to his side as the group made their way into the grove of trees.  She flushed as the warmth of his palm seeped into her cold fingers.

“Make sure you stay close, okay?” he muttered, his eyes on the slick leaves underfoot.  Charlie nodded and smiled shyly at the back of his head as he led them deeper into the woods.  Scott scurried up behind them, his shoes slipping against the muddy ground.

“We’re seriously doing this?” Scott asked, shoving his hands deeper in the pockets of his hoodie.

Stiles scoffed, pointing the flashlight beam at the base of a tree a few feet ahead of them. “You’re the one always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town.”

Scott huffed, “I was trying to get a good night sleep before practice tomorrow.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, tugging Charlie farther along their path as she picked nervously at her chipping fingernail polish and the fraying ribbon around her neck.  “Right, ‘cause sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort,” he said in a snide voice.  Charlie squeezed his hand, smiling when he squeezed back.

“No, because I’m playing this year.  In fact, I’m making first line,” Scott stated proudly.

Stiles looked over his shoulder at his friend, his face twisted with sarcastic disbelief, while Charlie turned her body to face Scott and gave him a wide grin and a thumbs-up with her free hand.  Scott smiled at her, but frowned when Stiles scoffed.

“Hey, that’s the spirit!  Everyone should have a dream, even a pathetically unrealistic one,” he said.

Charlie whipped her head around to frown at him, unimpressed with his tone.  She swung her free hand to hit his bicep, her face clearly expressing not cool .  He winced and chuckled at the hit, but kept walking.  He moved the flashlight beam up the hill to their right, searching for a less steep incline to climb.

Scott stopped walking and looked around them, the small beam of the flashlight and the dim moonlight not doing much to illuminate their surroundings.  He looked back at Stiles and Charlie who had gained some ground on him.  “Just out of curiosity, which half of the body are we looking for?”

Stiles licked his lips, a sheepish look grazing his face, and glanced behind him at the pair.  He tightened his grip on Charlie’s hand before admitting, “Huh!  I didn’t even think about that.”

Scott smiled and shook his head before continuing, “And, uh… what if whoever killed the body is still out here?”

Stiles shifted the flashlight to rest in the crook of his elbow and rubbed his hand over his buzz cut.  “Also something I didn’t think about,” he said, embarrassed.

Charlie stopped at that admission and yanked her hand from Stiles’ grasp.  She stomped her foot, an angry pout on her lips.  Stiles reached for her hand once more, pulling her behind him as he climbed the hill.  She tugged at his arm, causing him to look back at her.

“What?  We’ll be alright… I think,” he murmured and Charlie responded with a huff.

Scott chuckled under his breath, “It’s comforting to know you’ve planned this out with your usual attention to detail.”

“I know,” Stiles chimed in cheerfully, his feet digging deeper into the soft soil as he dragged Charlie to the top of the slope.

Behind them, Scott’s breathing grew rough and wheezing as he trailed after the pair.  He looked up at them, reaching for his inhaler.  “Maybe the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight, huh?”

Charlie looked back down the hill as Scott leaned against a tree to catch his breath.  She stumbled on a fallen branch, however her grip on Stiles helped her stay on her feet.

“Come on!  Keep up!” Stiles shouted as quietly as he was capable of (which isn’t very quiet, at least not quiet enough to not echo in the nearly silent woods).  Scott groaned in response, shaking his inhaler, and continued up the hill.

At the top of the hill, the distant beams of approaching flashlights filtered through the trees below.  Stiles dove to the ground, yanking Charlie down with him, and crawled until they were both hidden by a fallen branch.  The impact with the muddy ground forced all the air from her lungs.  She wheezed and glared at the boy still clutching her hand as he gave her an apologetic smile.  Scott landed on her other side a few moments later, his breathing not as worrisome.

She shifted closer to the edge of the hill, ducking her head to gaze under a thin branch growing from the larger one in front of them.  As she moved against the forest floor, a twig in the underbrush snagged the ribbon around her neck, tearing the already fraying fabric even more, and every shift of her body tore the cheap black material until her blue whistle was hanging on by a literal thread.

Stiles began to fidget as the officers grew closer, his teeth gnawing at his lower lip.  He pressed his feet deeper into the soft ground, readying to push himself off at a moment's notice.  His fingers flexed against the soft skin of Charlie’s palm, his eyes trailing over to her, taking in her flushed cheeks and red nose.  He squeezed her hand again, grinning wide when she shook her head, her loose curtain bangs brushing the bridge of her nose.  Suddenly, he leapt to his feet, pulling Charlie up with him, and took off down the hill.  Scott struggled to get up quickly, his shoes slipping against the slick leaves.  He pushed up using the branch as leverage, missing the glinting blue whistle being left behind in the dirt.

Stiles ran down the hill, his long strides forcing Charlie to move her much shorter legs faster to prevent stumbling.  His eyes remained locked on the police officers weaving their way through the trees, his limited attention span only focusing on the most interesting thing in front of him.  Charlie tried to pull her hand free of his grasp so she could follow behind him at her own pace, but his grip was relentless.

“Wait!” Scott’s voice shouted behind them, obviously trying to keep as quiet as he could and still get his friend’s attention.

“Come on!” came Stiles’ automatic response.

“Stiles!  Wait up!” Scott called out again before he stopped running to rest against a tree to take a hit from his inhaler.  Once his lungs no longer burned, he rushed after his friends, calling out to them one more time, “Stiles!  Charlie!  Stiles!”  His cry drew the focus of the police flashlights.  The light beams moved towards their direction.

Stiles heard the last call of his name which caused him to skid to a halt forcing Charlie to slam into his back.  Her downward momentum ramming into the skinny boy’s back caused him to stumble forward, her small free hand tangled in the back of his jacket as she tried to pull him back upright.  He turned around, their combined momentum pushing him farther backwards until his back met the trunk of a tree.  He grunted at the impact and did again when Charlie’s smaller body slammed into his, their combined hands trapped between them.

He coughed as his lungs protested the sudden impact, and looked down only to stop breathing.  Charlie was looking up at him, the earlier flush on her cheeks was much redder now, the tip of her cold fingers brushed the skin at the base of his neck as her palm rested on his chest.  His unoccupied hand twitched against the bark of the tree, the desire to brush her hair behind her ear briefly flitted through his mind.  He lifted his arm to do just that when a loud bark sounded from a few feet to their right.

The sound snapped them out of whatever trance they were in, both jumping at the sudden noise.  The K-9 officer kept barking and moved closer to them.  Stiles wrapped his free arm around Charlie’s back, pulling her closer to his chest, and pulled them backwards away from the dog.  A bright flashlight beam pinned them down next, connected to a Sheriff's Deputy, who ran up to them.

“Hold it right there!”

Stiles squinted at the light in his eyes, his hand moving from the center of her back to the back of her head, shielding her vision by hiding her face in his chest.  Her breathing stuttered when all she could smell was his body wash.  She clenched her eyes closed as hot embarrassment flooded her system.  Damn, he smells good.

“Hang on, hang on…”

Sheriff Stilinski shook his head at the sight of his son, and frowned when he noticed the girl in his arms.  He raised an eyebrow at their position, placing his hands on his hips.  Charlie turned her face to look at the Sheriff, her red cheeks on full display.

“This little delinquent belongs to me.  I can also vouch for the young lady,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Dad, how are you doing?” Stiles asked, trying to play cool as he released his hold on the back of Charlie’s head. His fingers glided through the strands at the base of her neck accidently sending shivers down her spine.  She moved away from her position against his chest and shuffled to stand slightly behind him, shyly looking over at the Sheriff.

“”What are you two doing out here?” Noah asked as he waved off the deputy, but kept the beam of his flashlight on them.

Stiles shuffled his feet, glancing over at her, his face twisted into a guilty frown.  “Ya know, just seemed like a good night to take a stroll in the woods,” he said in an almost questioning tone.  As soon as he finished speaking, distant thunder rumbled the ground and chilling drops of rain fell around them.  Stiles closed his eyes and sighed deeply at his poorly timed excuse.

Charlie pouted, shivering harder as the cold water droplets landed against the back of her neck.  She tugged her beanie farther down and pulled up the hood of her borrowed jacket.  Stiles squeezed their joined hands, tugging her closer to him as the rain cooled the air around them significantly.

Noah raised his eyebrows and gave his son a questioning look.  “Uh huh…”  He narrowed his eyes.  “Do you listen in on all of my phone calls?”

Stiles laughed sheepishly and ran his free right hand over the back of his head, his blunt fingernails scratching against his buzzed hair.  “No.  Heh…”  He flinched at the scathing look his father pinned him under and continued, “Not the boring ones.”

The Sheriff shook his head and sighed deeply.  He tilted his head back, looking up at the sky as if asking for patience, and rain drops dotted his cheeks.  After another deep exhale, he lowered his gaze to the teen before him.  “So where is the third musketeer?  Hiding in the woods still?”

Charlie’s eyes widened and she began nervously shifting her weight from foot to foot, squeezing Stiles’ hand tightly.  Her free left hand came up to grip his jacket sleeve, tugging their joined hands back towards her until the back of his hand rested against her thigh.

“Who, Scott?  Scott’s home.  He said he wanted to get a good night’s sleep for the first day back at school tomorrow,” Stiles rambled as the rain started coming down harder around them.  Charlie nodded awkwardly in agreement.  “It’s just me and Charlie… in the woods… at night… alone…” he continued slowly, trailing off at the end as he realized the implication of his statement.  His face and ears grew hot in embarrassment.  He glanced back at his shorter friend, unsurprised to see her cheeks similarly colored red.

The older man let his chin drop to his chest, his eyebrows furrowed, and sighed through gritted teeth.  “Scott, you out there?  Scott?” he called out into the surrounding woods.  When he didn't receive a response, he stalked over to the pair and grabbed his son by the back of his neck.  He ignored the pained yelp that Stiles released and started to drag him in the direction of the preserve entrance.

Stiles dropped his grip on Charlie’s hand after a particularly harsh tug from his father, and the blonde girl had to fight to suppress the pout that threatened to stretch across her lips at the loss of his warmth.  The blush on her skin spread farther down her chest at the thought of missing the feeling of his hand in hers.  She shook the thoughts from her head and scurried after the father and son pair, not too keen on being left alone in the woods in the rain.

“Well, young man,” Sheriff Stilinski said with an authoritative voice, “I’m gonna walk you both back to your car… You are going to take Charlie home… And then you and I are gonna have a conversation about something called “invasion of privacy” as well as your terrible date ideas.” 

Stiles started to stutter and attempted to shake his head, but his father’s grip made it hard.  “No, Dad, you’ve got the wrong idea…” he trailed off as Noah tightened his grip again.

Charlie pressed her chilled fingers to her cheeks in an attempt to cool her overheated skin.  The rest of the walk to the Jeep was quiet, only the occasional crackle of the Sheriff’s police radio updating him in the search party’s progress and Stiles complaining.  Once the baby blue car was in sight, Noah released his hold on his son and turned to face the young girl trailing behind them.

She came to a halt in front of him, looking up at him through her eyelashes, trying to hide her ashamed look.  He smiled down at her and reached up to pull a leaf from her blonde tresses.  

“You still coming over for dinner tomorrow, Charlie?” he asked gently, his warm smile setting her at ease.  She grinned up at him and nodded enthusiastically.  He  chuckled under his breath and leaned forward to kiss the top of her head.  “Make sure he gets home without getting himself in any more trouble for me, will ya?” he asked, straightening her crooked beanie.  She nodded again, and he gently shoved her towards the passenger side of the car.

“Get going.  I’ll be out here for a while longer, but we are having that talk when I get home,” Noah said sternly at his son.

The two teens climbed into the Jeep, Stiles pouting and mumbling under his breath as they got settled.  She offered him a small smile and pat the back of the hand that rested on the gear shift.  

“ What are we gonna do about Scott? ” she signed before jerking a thumb in the direction of the woods.

Stiles, however, wasn’t paying attention.  He was chewing at his thumbnail, his eyes unfocused.  She frowned at him and reached absentmindedly to raise her whistle to her lips in order to get the boy’s attention.  When her fingers didn’t find the satin ribbon against the fabric of her henley, she began to panic.  She tugged at the zipper of the hoodie until it fell open around her shoulders, her hands frantically searching the pockets and folds of the fabric.  When her search still came up empty, she pulled the jacket off, not noticing that one of the sleeves smacked Stiles in the face.

“Ow!  Hey!  Watch where you fling those tiny arms of yours!” he shouted, rubbing his stinging eye, before turning his head to observe his obviously panicked friend.  “Hey!  Charlie, what’s wrong?”

She faced him, her gray eyes wide and teary, and her hands frantically signing “I can’t find my whistle!  I think it’s in the woods!”   

“Charlie, I can’t understand what you are trying to say.  You’re signing too fast.  You aren’t making any sense,” he said in a calming tone, reaching out to hold her shaking hands in his.  He rubbed his thumbs across the back of her hand, waiting for her breathing to slow down before he questioned her again.  He felt a jolt of pain in his heart as he watched a couple of tears roll down her cheeks.  “Hey now, no tears.  You know I hate seeing you cry.”

She exhaled out of her nose weakly, and nodded.  He released her hands and she quickly wiped away the tear streaks.  She took a deep breath and signed “I think I lost my whistle in the woods.”

He watched her hands intently, nodding absently as he processed what she said.  “Okay, okay, we can text Scott to look for it on his way out, and if he can’t find it, we will come back here after school to look.  I promise you that we will find it.” 

She gave him a half smile, slipping the hoodie back on to combat the chill that had settled in the Jeep.  He reached over to squeeze her knee before starting the car and driving down the dark roads to bring them home.  As silence settled between them, she pulled out her phone to text Scott to keep an eye out for her precious whistle.  Weirdly, he didn’t respond.  She pouted and stared out the window for the remainder of the ride.

Stiles parked the Jeep in his driveway, turned off the ignition, and pulled his phone from his pocket.  “Have you heard anything from Scott?” he asked, checking his messages.

Charlie shook her head as she unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed from the car.  The taller boy scrambled to follow her, but by the time he had caught up, she was already half way through her yard.  He walked beside her the last few feet, almost laughing when she stopped below her window, just too short to reach easily.  She kept her back to him, arms crossed, until Stiles grabbed her shoulder to turn her around.

He grinned at her sullen expression, “I’ll pick you up at the usual time, okay?  Get some sleep.”  He reached over her head to slide her window open before lifting her by the waist.  She grabbed the window sill and pulled herself up and over to tumble into her room.  He didn’t move from his spot below her until he saw her stand up to slide the window closed.  She stared at him through the glass and signed a quick thank you and good night .

Stiles signed good night and hurried back across the yard to his own house, hoping to get in bed before his father could make good on the threat of long-winded lectures.  Once he was out of sight, Charlie tiptoed into her bathroom to get ready for bed.  She stripped out of her dirty and damp clothes, dropping them into the hamper.  She frowned as she dropped Stiles’ hoodie on top of the pile, knowing that it would no longer smell like him once it was washed.  She shook the thought from her head and quickly moved on to washing her face of the day’s makeup and dirt.

She pulled on a pair of flannel plaid pants that pooled around her ankles and a thin long sleeve shirt to sleep in and crept back into the hallway.  Carefully, she walked down the hall, keeping her steps light and soundless, until she could peer into the living room.  The blue light from the television illuminated the room which was littered with empty bottles and chip bags.  Max, her older brother of 7 years, laid spread across the worn couch.  His obnoxious snores filled the room.  She held her breath until he snored again before she made her way back to her room.

When she finally fell back onto her bed, her eyes wandered over to her alarm clock.  The large numbers read 1:45 AM, only a few hours to get some sleep for the first day of the new semester.  She rolled over, pulling her blanket up to her chin, and fell into a restless sleep.

She was standing in the center of a burning room, smoke and the heat haze made the details of the area hard to see.  The thick black smoke swirled around the room as it rose to the ceiling and the flames grew closer to her feet.  She wanted to run, but her feet remained frozen in place.  She watched in horror as the smoke continued to fill the room.  It moved through the space as if it had a mind of its own.  It rushed to form a shapeless lump just a few feet in front of her.  She could see a vague shape in the haze; a humanoid figure kneeling on the floor.  Suddenly, loud and painful screams echoed through the space, seemingly coming from the hunched figure in the smoke.  She took a step forward, the flames parting at her feet.  Another shaky step forward led to the figure releasing another horrible scream.  The thick smoke condensed around the figure, becoming darker in color.

“Are you okay?” an unfamiliar voice asked.  She looked around the room in shock, searching for another person before she realized the voice had come from her, but she had never opened her mouth.

Growls and snarls drew her attention back to the figure, which she could now tell was a man.  Terrified, she watched him rise his head, glowing red eyes peering out of the smoky haze.  Something about those eyes pinned her to her spot, her heart beating loudly in her ears. Another snarl came from the man, large white fangs glinted in the light of the flames.  At the sight of the sharp teeth, she took a step back, the flames hot against her skin.  Her movement caused the face of the man to morph and change.  The shapeless face grew a pronounced snout that displayed rows of sharp teeth, dripping with drool and foam.  His jaw hung open as horrific sounds tumbled from his throat.

“W-who are you?  What do you want?”  Again, her voice echoed around her, her mouth never opening.

The smoke grew thicker as the flames spread higher up the walls.  She watched as drool fell from the thing’s mouth, disappearing in a fume of steam before it could hit the floor.  He placed his hands on the floor, the sound of sizzling skin made her want to vomit.  He suddenly reared back, an eardrum shattering howl erupting from his chest.  Charlie pressed her hands over her ears, her eyes never leaving the rabid man before her that was beginning to look less human and more animal.  It leapt at her, gaping maw opened wide and aiming for her throat, and she fearfully shut her eyes.

Monday, January 10, 2011  5:56 A.M.

Charlie jerked awake, gasping as she raised her arms to defend herself.  The consistent beeping of her alarm clock shook her from her dreamy haze.  She flailed her arm to silence her alarm, seeing that it was a few minutes after 6:00 AM.  She pressed her palms into her eye sockets, trying to rub away the vision of the flames and the smoke.  When it proved fruitless, she let her hands fall onto her lap, heaving a deep sigh.  She glanced again at the clock and pushed herself out of bed, slowly making her way to the bathroom to shower and prepare for school.  The warm water soothed her nervous feelings and the nightmare began to fade.  The only fragment that stayed at the forefront of her mind was the piercing red eyes.

She quickly went through her morning routine, blow drying her hair, brushing her teeth, and curling the ends of her hair.  She pulled her blonde mane into a half up messy bun, leaving a few pieces down to frame her face.  She then moved on to applying a light layer of tinted moisturizer, concealer to hide her dark circles, a light dusting of blush and bronzer, mascara, and tinted lip balm.  She checked her reflection, making sure nothing was out of place, and made her way back to her bedroom to get dressed.

A comfortable pair of black distressed jeans, a powder blue long sleeve t-shirt, a hooded jean jacket, and a pair of gray low top sneakers made up the outfit she had picked out the night before.  She spun around in front of the mirror, fiddling with the hem of her shirt and the pieces of hair framing her face.  Finally satisfied with her appearance for the day, she picked up her beat up gray backpack, and exited her bedroom.  She walked down the hallway, stopping just before the front door to peer into the living room where her older brother was still sleeping on the couch.

Max’s limbs hung from the cushions, his almost 6 foot frame dwarfing the piece of furniture.  His cropped blond wavy hair was greasy and stuck up in all directions.  His stubble was getting unruly, as if he hadn’t bothered to trim the hairs in a couple of days.  The empty beer cans and bottles that littered the space made Charlie’s stomach ache, knowing that he was going to be in a bad mood when she got home from school.  She thought about making up an excuse to stay at the Stilinski house until his shift tonight, but knew she would have to face him eventually.  A sudden loud snore broke her out of her daze and a knock at the door told her that Stiles had come to pick her up.

She unlocked the door and opened up, greeted by her friend’s smiling face.  He held up a coffee cup and a white paper bag, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I brought you your favorite,” he said with a sheepish twinge to his voice, “As an apology for dragging you out last night.”

She smiled and rolled her eyes, taking the gifts from him, and quickly took a sip of the sweet vanilla latte.  The pair made their way to the Jeep and started towards school.  About halfway through the drive, Charlie opened the pastry bag to see a chocolate doughnut with sprinkles.  She grinned widely and did a little dance in the passenger seat before diving into her breakfast.  Stiles chuckled at her happy dance, but adopted a nervous look as he glanced at his phone in the cup holder.

“Hey, did you ever hear from Scott last night?” he asked apprehensively.  Charlie checked her phone and shook her head.  

“Why?”  she signed, her mouth full of doughnut.

Stiles sighed and quickly rubbed his hand over his buzz cut.  “Scott texted me when he got home last night.  He, uh, said that he was attacked by an animal in the woods a little while after we left.  Apparently, he has a huge bite wound.”

She coughed as she tried to swallow a large swig of coffee.  She glared at him as she wiped up the droplets that had sprayed from her lips, ignoring him when he whined about getting his precious Jeep sticky with her sugar filled coffee.  She tapped the dash hard and in rapid succession, her hard gaze never leaving the side of his face.

“I know, I know.  You aren’t happy that we left him there, but Scott said that he’s fine.  He’s gonna show us when we get it school, and I bet it’s not as bad as he is making it out.  I bet he is just being dramatic to make us feel bad for leaving him,” he grimaced.

“We should feel bad.  We left him and he got hurt,” she countered, before she finished off her doughnut as the school building came into view.  She pouted as he pulled into a parking space.  She crossed her arms and slouched in the seat as Stiles exited the car and ran around to her side to open the door for her.  She gave him a look which caused him to chuckle and hold out his hand.

“Come on.  Scott’s not here yet.  Let’s wait closer to the front,” he said, wiggling his fingers for her to grab ahold.

She tossed her head back and imagined what it would feel like to groan in response.  She lowered her head to lock her gray eyes with her brown ones and caved.  She held out her hand and was pulled from the vehicle.  He grabbed her backpack from the floorboard and led her down the sidewalk towards the bench lined entryway to the high school.  They sat on a bench near the bike racks to wait for Scott to arrive and Charlie finished her latte.

They sat together, both absorbed in their own thoughts.  Stiles chewed on his thumbnail and stared off into the distance, while she leaned her back against his side, using her bent knees as a flat surface to write in her notebook.  She tapped her pen against the white paper, tiny black dots littering the margin, as she tried to remember her nightmare.  She could picture the fire and the smoke, but the figure that she had been so afraid was nothing more than a blurry blob.  Except for the red eyes.  Those she could still see every time she blinked.  She lifted the pen to her mouth to chew on the nib at the top, but before she could sink her teeth into the plastic, she saw Scott walking up to them.

Charlie jumped to her feet, stuffing her notebook into her open backpack, and rushed over to her friend, checking him up and down for any sign of his injury.  Scott gave her a warm smile and put his hand on her shoulder.  She frowned at him, but Stiles interjected before she could question their friend.

“Okay, let’s see this thing,” he said, his fingers twitching at his side.

Scott looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to them before lifting his shirt.  A large white bandage was taped to his left side.  Stiles bent down to get a closer look while Charlie’s hands fidgeted in front of her as she fought the urge to either hug him or rip the bandage off to see how bad the bite actually was.

“Ooh!” Stiles exclaimed.

“Yeah…” Scott trailed off, looked down at the bandage.  Charlie’s frown grew deeper and she reached out to tug on his sleeve near his elbow.  He gave her a crooked grin, squeezing her shoulder but flinched away in pain as Stiles touched the sensitive area when he wasn’t looking.  “Whoa!”  Scott pulled his shirt back down and straightened it out before walking past them towards the school steps.  “It was too dark to see much, but I’m pretty sure it was a wolf.”

Stiles looked at him with a face twisted with disbelief.  He licked his lips, glanced at Charlie, and they jogged to catch up with him.  “A wolf bit you?” he asked.

“Uh-huh,” Scott nodded confidently.

Stiles shook his head and Charlie scrunched up her nose in confusion.  She forced herself between the boys and grabbed ahold of Scott’s hand, squeezing it with both of hers.

“No, not a chance,” Stiles scoffed.

Scott turned his head to look at his best friend.  “I heard a wolf howling,” he countered with a confused tone.

The spastic boy continued to shake his head, scoffing again causing Charlie to glare at him.

“No, you didn’t,” he stated.

Scott tilted his head back, his floppy curls bouncing with his movement.  “What do you mean “No, I didn’t?”  How do you know what I heard?” he asked, his frustrated face peering over Charlie’s head at his friend.

“Because,” Stiles started, a smug expression tugging at his cheeks, “California doesn’t have wolves, okay?  Not in, like, sixty years.”

Scott’s frustration melted into confusion, his deep brown eyes glossed over as if he was trying to make the new information make sense with what happened to him in the preserve.  He and Stiles stopped at the base of the steps while Charlie went up one and turned to face them, now closer to eye level.  “Really?” Scott asked in a surprised tone looking back and forth between his two friends.

“Yes, really.  There are no wolves in California,” Stiles said seriously, crossing his arms.  She nodded in agreement, looking sheepishly at her friend who still looked so lost.

Scott shook his head and slid his hands into his jacket pockets.  “All right.  Well, if you don’t believe me about the wolf, then you’re definitely not gonna believe me about when I tell you I found the body while looking for Charlie’s whistle.”

Stiles’ arms fell to his side as he started to bounce on the balls of his feet, an excited grin stretching his face in an uncontained manner.  Charlie, on the other hand, looked sick to her stomach at the thought of her friend finding a dead body because he was trying to help her.  She could feel the color drain from her cheeks as her eyes widened.

“You-- are you kidding me?” Stiles asked, leaning closer to Scott to look him in the eye.

“No, man, I wish.  I’m gonna have nightmares for a month,” Scott answered tentatively.  Charlie winced, her shoulders jerking at the statement, and she turned her gaze to her feet, shuffling them ashamedly.  Scott saw her reaction to what he said and quickly wrapped his arms around her, bringing her into a warm hug.  “Hey, it’s not your fault, Char.  I mean, we did go into the woods to find the body in the first place,” he said into her hair.  He felt her relax against his chest, only releasing her when she patted him on the back.  He leaned back from her, tilting his head causing his curls to brush against his forehead.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t find your whistle.  If it’s any consultation, I lost my inhaler out there too.”

Charlie smiled and rolled her eyes at him.  “Great.  Now we have to look extra hard for them both after school,” she signed, earning a chuckle from him.

“Oh, god, that is fuckin’ awesome.  I mean, this is seriously gonna be the best thing that’s happened to this town since--”  Stiles paused his excited rant causing Charlie to look at him.  When she saw that Lydia was approaching the school entrance, she felt her shoulders wilt.  “--Since the birth of Lydia Martin.  Hey, Lydia!  You look--”

Charlie turned her back to the boys, hiding her sad eyes behind her blonde hair.  She unzipped her backpack, pretending to dig for something in its depths as the strawberry blonde walked by.

“--Like you’re gonna ignore me…”

The young girl tuned the rest of the boys’ conversation out and hurried up the steps.  Her heart clenched painfully in her chest as she imagined Stiles’ adoring face as he watched Lydia.  She pushed through the doors and made her way to her locker, her hands shaking as she undid the padlock.  This is stupid.  I can’t believe I am letting this stupid crush make me feel this way. She thought, almost crumbling some loose papers in her grasp.  She quickly exchanged notebooks and textbooks for her bag.

“Hey, you kinda left me behind out there.  Excited for English with Curtis?” Stiles joked as he opened his own locker that was directly to the left of hers.

Charlie ignored him, slamming the metal door shut, and rushed down the hall towards their English classroom.  She could hear him call out to her, as well as the sound of his locker shutting followed by the swish of papers scattering across the hall.  She entered the classroom and made a beeline to the line of desks next to the windows.  She chose the seat near the back of the row but left a seat open behind her out of habit.  Her gray eyes drifted over to the window, watching the clouds roll by, her fingers tracing the outer edge of the whiteboard that sat on her desktop.  She rests her chin in her palm as Scott slides into the seat to her right.  She glanced over at him, but looked away quickly upon seeing his sympathetic face.

Stiles clambered into the room not a few moments later, ungracefully making his way across the room to claim the seat behind her.  He dropped his arm full of papers and notebooks on his desktop and dropped his open backpack to the ground beside him.  He shuffled through his things obnoxiously, getting settled only seconds before Mr. Curtis walked into the classroom after the warning bell.

The balding man strolled up to the whiteboard, not sparing his students a second glance.  “As you all know, there indeed was a body found in the woods last night.”

Charlie could see Scott’s wide grin in her peripheral vision, however she ignored his glances between her and the boy behind her in favor of pulling the class syllabus out from under her dry erase board.

“And I am sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened,” the teacher continued in a monotonous voice, “But I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody, which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus, which is on your desk outlining this semester.”

A scattering of groans filled the room before the shuffling of papers took its spot.  Charlie pulled a blue pen and a purple highlighter from her pen pouch when she noticed Scott flinch in his seat.  He grabbed at his ears as if a loud noise had hurt his eardrums, but before she could ask if he was okay a sharp tug at her hair pulled her attention to the spastic boy seated behind her.

“Hey, are you mad at me?  ‘Cause you bailed on me out in the hall earlier plus leaving me outside,” Stiles whispered in his usual too-loud-to-be-a-whisper voice.  

Charlie kept ignoring him, her eyes pointedly locked on their teacher.  Stiles went silent, which was unlike him and it unnerved the girl.  She was curious as to what face he was making at the back of her head.  Was he biting his lips the way he always did when he was thinking of his next move?  The ripping of paper came from the boy’s desk, followed by the quick scratching of a pen.  Another beat of silence before a square of notebook paper flew over her left shoulder and landed neatly in the middle of her open syllabus.  She looked at the carefully folded note, her fingers inching closer, but was stopped by the classroom door opening.

The Vice Principal walked in the room, a nervous brunette girl close behind him.  Her pale cheek flushed as all eyes in the room focused on her.

“Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent.  Please do you best to make her feel welcome,” the man said, his tone authoritative yet kind.  He gave her a nod and shiftly left the room, leaving an awkward silence in his wake.

Allison wrung her hands together, offered everyone a shy smile, and made her way to the only open seat in the room, which happened to be directly behind Scott.  Charlie smiled warmly at her and gave her a tiny wave as she walked passed.  Allison smiled back before she slid gracefully into the small desk.  Scott turned around in his chair, holding out a pen to the new girl.  She took it from him almost gently, a quiet thanks fell from her lips.  Scott’s face stretched into a goofy grin as his tan cheeks flushed.  Charlie rolled her eyes good-naturedly at her friend’s obvious blush before returning her attention to the teacher at the front of the classroom.  Her bright blue fingernails tapped the edge of the note that still sat in the center of her desk.

“We’ll begin with Kafka’s Metamorphosis on page one-thirty-three.”  Mr. Curtis continued with his lesson plan as he walked to the whiteboard.  He picked up a fading black dry erase marker and began to write relevant notes.  She leaned over to pull her textbook and notebook from her backpack when Stiles tugged at her hair again, this time with a little bit more force.  She jerked her head away from him, glaring over her shoulder.  He tilted his head exasperated, pointing quickly at the note before stuffing his unneeded notebooks into his bag and pulled out his own book.  She rolled her eyes and swept her hair over her shoulders so he couldn’t yank it again.  She picked up the note, unfolding it behind the back of the guy sitting in front of her, hoping she was out of Mr. Curtis’ direct line of sight.

I’m sorry I put my foot in my mouth.  Will milkshakes and fries after school be a good enough apology?

Charlie shook her head, not fighting the smile that followed rereading the note.  A nudge at her lower back caused her to look back over her shoulder again, catching Stiles’ hopeful eyes.  He grinned at her, almost pleased to have her attention on him once more, and bounced his eyebrows at her making her silently laugh.  She gave him a small nod and turned back to facing forward, carefully tucking the note into the pocket of her notebook, her fingertips gently tracing the messy handwriting.

The rest of the school day passed by rather quickly.  Charlie was pleased to discover that she shared almost half of her classes with the new girl Allison, along with Scott and Stiles.  And the few classes that she had alone, she at least knew a couple of people in them.

Exiting her final class of the day, the blonde girl was surprised to see Stiles waiting out in the hall for her.  He grinned at her, and walked beside her as they headed towards Scott’s locker.  “You’re gonna be at lacrosse practice today right?  You still helping Coach?” he asked, adjusting his backpack.

Charlie nodded, “He needs someone with a brain on the team, otherwise none of the important work would get done.”  She smiled smugly at him when he let out a sudden loud laugh.  They walked together until Scott came into view, his locker open but his focus on the new girl across the hall.  She was currently locked into a conversation with Lydia and Jackson.  Stiles moved to stand beside his friend, finding his infatuation hilarious.  Charlie stood a few steps away from the boys, waiting at her friend Harley’s locker.  

“Heeyyy!” Harley sang, giving Charlie a hug.  “I hate that we don’t have more classes together!  I feel like I never get to see you.”  The taller girl squeezed the blonde before releasing her.  Harley opened her locker to put away her unneeded books, her eyes eventually drifting over to the unusually silent pair of boys.  She closed her locker and turned to see what Scott was staring at so intently.  When she saw the new group forming at the other end of the hall, she couldn’t resist rolling her eyes.

“Can someone tell me how New Girl is here all of five minutes, and she’s already hanging out with Lydia’s clique?” she asked sarcastically, resting her hands on her hips.

Without missing a beat, Stiles replied, “Because she’s hot.”

Charlie and Harley whipped their heads to face him, both of their faces twisted into dirty glares, to which he shrugged in response.

“Beautiful people herd together,” he said simply.

Before she even realized what she was doing, Charlie punched Stiles in the shoulder, an offended frown tugging at her lips.  He released a loud yelp of pain and rubbed the area with a confused expression.  As he opened his mouth to question her, Harley punched his other arm.  He quickly turned his attention to the other girl, his confused face gaining a touch of anger.

Again, he opened his mouth to speak his mind, but Harley interrupted, “And just what does that make us?  Huh?  You jackass!”  She hit his shoulder again, before grabbing Charlie by the elbow and pulling her towards the exit.  

Harley led her outside to sit on the bleachers on the side of the lacrosse practice field.  They sat on the bottom bench, silently stewing in their annoyance.  Charlie tugged on the sleeves of her hooded jean jacket until the fabric covered her fingers as she chewed on her bottom lip.  She tapped her foot anxiously against the ground, as she was consumed by her thoughts.  Was she not pretty?  She knew that she didn’t compare to the popular crowd in terms of attractiveness, but she had never considered that she wasn’t attractive at all.  Before her train of thought could devolve more, Harley placed her hand on the smaller girl’s back.

“Hey now, get out of your own head.  You are, like, literally flawless.  And if an idiot like Stilinski can’t see that, then he is much stupider than I thought and you are too good for him,” she said, pulling the girl closer to her side in order to give her a warm side hug.  Charlie smiled softly at her friend, signing a slow thank you , and rested her head on the other girl’s shoulder.  Harley smiled widely until she noticed something missing from her friend’s normal wardrobe.  “Charlie, where’s your whistle?  I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without it.”

Charlie’s eyes widened, pulling her phone from her pocket, and quickly typed out a message to her.  “I think I dropped it in the Jeep this morning.  I’ve been meaning to replace the ribbon since it started to tear last week,” the app’s robotic voice spoke, it’s tinny sound harsh as it drifted from the speaker.  Harley nodded slowly, not sure if she believed the statement, but chose not to say anything.  Her dark brown eyes darted to the double door leading to the locker rooms as the members of the lacrosse team began to pour out onto the field.  She patted the shorter girl’s shoulder before moving farther up the beachers.

Charlie stood, leaving her backpack at the base of the beachers after pulling out her small whiteboard and dry erase marker, and met Coach halfway.  The eccentric man looked as if he was running on no sleep and a pot of coffee as usual as he thrust a clipboard in her arms.  She quickly adjusted her grip on it so as to not drop it, and raised up on her tiptoes to pull her pen from behind his ear.  He ran his hand through his wild hair, only making the strands stand at more odd angles.  His long legs carried him ahead of Charlie, and when he realized that he had left her, he turned on his heel, slapping his large hands on her shoulders.

“Alright Baker, you are my island of solace in this sea of idiots, got it?  You are here by responsible for keeping me sane until the end of the season.  A tough job, but I give you decent odds.”

Charlie scrunched up her nose at the added pressure and gave her teacher a slow nod.  He leaned away from her and gave her a lanyard with a silver whistle before walking behind a group of players, yelling at them for something.  She slipped the nylon string over her head as she heard Scott and Stiles approaching.

“But if you play, I’ll have no one to talk to on the bench.  Are you really gonna do that to your best friend?” Stiles asked, not noticing that they had walked past her on their way to the field.  Charlie exhaled out her nose, anger bubbling in her gut.  She walked briskly past them, making sure to shoulder check Stiles on the way to the bench.

Scott scoffed at his friend’s word choice and moved to follow behind the blonde girl, “Charlie is always on the sidelines with Coach, so you wouldn’t be alone.  That aside, I can’t sit out again.  My whole life is sitting on the side lines.”

Charlie chewed on the inside of her cheek, conflicted feelings clashing in her chest.  She was proud Scott was putting himself out there to get what he wanted, but Stiles seemingly disregarding her, even if it was unintentional, hurt more than she was willing to admit.  She shook her head, attempting to clear the intrusive thoughts, and blew the whistle in a quick burst to signal the players to get in their lines so she could start taking attendance.

She had checked off Issac Lahey’s name when she realized that Scott hadn’t joined the group yet.  She looked around the area only to see Coach shoving goalie equipment in her friend’s arms.  Her eyes drifted over to Danny, who was also watching the interaction with confusion.

“I know- scoring some shots will give the boys a confidence boost.  It’s a first-day-back thing.”  She could hear Coach say.  She rolled her eyes, checking off Scott’s name, feeling a little bad that now he wouldn’t have the chance to prove himself like he wanted to.

“Who is that?”  A voice that had become familiar over the course of the day sounded from the bleachers.  Charlie turned her head slightly to look over her shoulder, not too surprised to see the new girl, Allison, sitting beside Lydia.

Lydia hummed to herself, her painted lips scrunched in a sideways pout.  “Him?  I’m not sure who he is.  Why?”

Charlie couldn’t stop the eye roll if she tried.  Of course, Lydia.  It’s not like we have been in the same class for 8 years or anything.

“I sat behind him in English class,” Allison responded with a small smile.  Charlie glanced up at the pair of girls, biting her lip to contain her smile, pleased that the first girl her friend was showing interest in seemed to be reciprocating the interest.

Her eyes moved down the list of names, seeing that only one remained unchecked.  M. Stilinski.   Once again, her eyes grazed over the crowd of boys in front of her, not seeing her best friend among them.  She glanced behind her at the bench and saw the brown haired boy digging through an equipment bag.  She felt her face fall into a deadpan expression as she watched him throw extra gloves and athletic tape onto the grass.  She moved the whistle back in between her lips, and blew a loud, sharp note directly behind the spastic boy.  He yelped, falling backwards onto his rear, but still holding a glove almost triumphantly in the air.  He looked up at her from the ground, his lips moving from a shocked expression to a deep pout when he saw Charlie’s annoyed face.

He got to his feet, grumbling under his breath, and got in line with the others, sliding his large hand into the new glove.  With a flick of her pen, she checked off his name, and nodded to Coach that he could start practice.  Coach began pointing at the boys, calling out an order for them to line up as one of the assistant coaches dropped a basket full of the small rubber balls at the front of the line.  Scott reluctantly made his way to the goal and Stiles shuffled up to the bench, sitting heavily with a deep sigh.  

His whiskey brown eyes wandered over to his closest friend as she stood on the sidelines, her clipboard clenched tightly against her chest.  He knew he had fucked up for at least the second time today, and he wasn’t sure if fries and milkshakes was going to be a good enough apology.  He chewed on his bottom lip as his overactive mind began to replay the entire day, going through each scenario that he had messed up, and doing it differently each time.  He didn’t notice his vision going out of focus as he continued to stare at Charlie until he was startled by her blowing the starting whistle.

Stiles apparently wasn’t the only one caught off guard by the sudden sharp noise of the whistle.  Scott bent over in the goal post, hands gripping his head as he trashed in place.  Charlie watched with horror as the tall boy writhed as if he was in unbearable pain.  She moved to run towards him when a swift ball smacked him in the face, sending him to the ground.  She winced and quickly hid behind her clipboard, the secondhand embarrassment not allowing her to look at her friend.  When the cruel laughter had died down, she peeked over her shield to make sure that Scott had gotten to his feet and wasn’t hurt.

“And who’s the girl by the bench?  She is in almost all of my classes, but I never got her name,” Allison continued to question Lydia, attempting to point subtly to Charlie.

“Charlie is the team manager,” Lydia answered simply.  Charlie almost whipped around in shock.

“Oh, so you know her name, but not the guy in the goal?” Allison teased, her eyes drifting from Scott, who appeared to be psyching himself up after the ball to the face, and the short blonde standing next to Coach.

“I make a point to know the names of the girls who interact with Jackson,” the strawberry blonde answered in a short tone.  Allison was speechless, her mouth dropping open slightly as she turned away.

Charlie just shook her head, unsurprised that was the reason, and returned her attention to the field just in time to see Scott catch the next ball thrown at him.  Stiles cheered from behind her, his excited yell barely covering his obvious shock.  She watched in awe as her asthmatic friend caught another four throws with ease.  She dropped her pen when Coach tapped the clipboard in her hands, muttering under his breath, “Make a note of that.”

She quickly picked up the pen, drawing a star next to Scott’s name, and glanced back up when hushed whispers filled the bleachers.  She frowned when she saw that Jackson had left his place in line, the tension in his shoulders clear to see even from a distance.  He slammed the top of his stick into the guy that was getting ready to line up his throw, shoving him out of the way.  Charlie raised the whistle to her lips as Scott tensed in the goal, but Coach reached up to push it back down.

Jackson ran as fast as he could towards Scott and tossed the ball with as much force as possible, confident that the boy wouldn’t be able to block the pass.  Scott, however, caught the pass with ease.  The students in the stands and Stiles erupted into cheers.

“That’s my friend!” Stiles shouted from behind her, the sudden rise in volume making her jolt in place.  Scott preened under all the attention and praise, tossing the ball back to the assistant coach standing just a few feet to Charlie’s right with enough force that the man barely caught it.  Coach stepped forward, calling out for Danny to retake his place in the goal and for Scott to change into the normal practice gear for the rest of their time.  Scott smirked as he handed over the pads to Danny, and the cocky face didn’t fade for the rest of practice.

The final 20 minutes of practice were uneventful.  Scott approached Charlie with Stiles trailing behind, the latter still grinning at his best friend’s display of athleticism.  “Hey, we’re gonna go get cleaned up before we head out to the preserve.  Mind waiting here for us or are you gonna be in Coach’s office?” he asked, his curls wet with sweat from being trapped under his helmet.

She paused, glancing down at the clipboard in her arms, and signed, “I think I’m gonna stay out here.  Got a few more notes to make, plus I really don’t wanna smell the locker room after the first day back.”

Scott chuckled, patted her shoulder, and walked towards the school.  Stiles hesitated in front of her, rubbing the back of his neck like he always did when he was feeling awkward.  She raised an eyebrow, ignoring him after a few moments of silence.  He opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by Allison tapping Charlie on the shoulder.  She turned around quickly, her gray eyes wide with surprise.

“Hi, I’m Allison…” she started, shuffling her feet shyly, “...but you already know that.”  She trailed off before taking a deep breath and continuing, “I just wanted to introduce myself to someone I share a lot of my classes with, so… hello.”

Charlie grinned at her, turning around to grab her whiteboard from the bench behind, and quickly wrote her own introduction.  She held up the board which read: “It’s nice to meet you, Allison!  I’m Charlotte, but everyone just calls me Charlie.  Please let me know if you ever need help with anything.”  Her smile dropped a little when she saw the confused face that Allison was giving her.

Stiles walked up from behind Charlie and wrapped his arm around her waist.  She jumped a little at the unexpected contact and looked at the freckled boy.  “She’s mute, so unless you know ASL, then writing is the best way for her to communicate.”

Allison blinked before gasping, “Oh!  I am so sorry!  I was just a little confused.  It is very nice to meet you Charlie.”  She held out a hand towards her, which Charlie shook happily.  She then held out her hand towards the boy, a questioning eyebrow raised.

“Oh!” he said, reaching out to also shake her hand with a smile, “I’m Stiles.  I’m also in a couple of your classes.”  

The brunette smiled back, her phone buzzing in her pocket.  She picked it up, groaned, and told them that her mom was there to pick her up.  She waved goodbye and walked away to the front of the school.  Charlie smiled to herself, slowly realizing that Stiles’ hand was still wrapped around her, his fingers brushing the hem of her shirt oh so closer to touching her skin.  She looked back up at him, hoping that the annoyed look would disguise the red cheeks.

“What?” he asked, looking down at her with a confused face.  She rolled her eyes, taking his much longer fingers in hers, prying them from her waist.  “Oh… my bad,” he muttered sheepishly, already walking backwards towards the locker room entrance.  “Um, we shouldn’t be too long, so, uh, just wait out here, I guess.”

He turned and ran into the building as quickly as he could.  Charlie laughed silently, shaking her head, and returned to making notes for Coach on the day’s practice.

Monday, January 10, 2011 4:33 P.M.

The preserve was chilly in the late afternoon setting sun.  Scott and Stiles jumped across a creek, their shoes splashing in the shallow water.  Scott stopped on the other side, and reached across to help Charlie leap over to them.

“I-I don’t know what it was.  It was like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball.  And that’s not the only weird thing.  I-I can hear stuff I shouldn’t be able to hear.  Smell things,” Scott said, his hands tucking into his jacket pockets.

“Smell things?  Like what?” Stiles asked, walked backwards for a second to look at his friend.

“Like the mint mojito gum in your pocket.  And that Charlie’s wearing a fruit scented chapstick,” Scott offered.

As Scott walked past Stiles who was making a face at him.  The freckled boy obviously didn’t believe him, however Charlie surprised him by holding up her strawberry lip balm in front of him.  He raised an eyebrow in shock and started digging through his pockets.

“I don’t have any mint mojito-”  He didn’t finish his sentence as he pulled a half piece of gum from his inside jacket pocket.  Scott raised his shoulders in a shrug in an I told you so manner.  Stiles made his thinking face, rolling the piece of gum around in his palm, also plucking Charlie’s lip balm from her hand.

He ignored her frown as he opened the cap, giving it a sniff.  She snatched it out of his grasp, annoyed, and slid it back into her back pocket.  Stiles gave her an apologetic smile before returning his attention to Scott, who was standing a little ways away.

“So all this started with the bite?” he asked.

Scott’s face fell into a nervous expression, nibbling at his lower lip.  “What if it’s like an infection?  Like, my body’s flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?”

Charlie walked over to him and reached up to stop his hand from tugging on his hair.  She held his large warm hand in hers and rubbed the back of it with her thumb, a reassuring smile on her lips.  Stiles, behind her, suppressed a grin and schooled his face in a serious expression.

“You know what?  I actually think I’ve heard of this- it’s a specific kind of infection,” he said, fighting down his usual sarcastic tone.

Scott and Charlie both quickly turned to look at him, both curious to know Stiles’ answer to the problem.

“Are you serious?” Scott asked, his grip on Charlie’s hand tightening with nerves.

“Yeah.  Yeah, I think it’s called lycanthropy ,” Stiles answered, a grin twitching at the edges of his mouth.

Scott began to panic, his palms sweating against Charlies, while the girl leveled the jokester with a dirty glare.

“What’s that?  Is that bad?” Scott pleaded.

“Oh, yeah, it’s the worst.  But only once a month.”  Stiles took a few steps closer to them, the glee on his face no longer really hidden.

“Once a month?”  Scott looked down at Charlie with confusion to which she responded with an offended look and a middle finger.  She pulled her hand from his and crossed her arms over his chest, glaring at both boys now.

“Mm-hmm.  On the night of the full moon.”  Stiles let out a pitiful attempt at a howl, causing Scott to shove him.  Charlie just rolled her eyes as he dissolved into giggles, clearly amused that his joke had landed so well.

“Hey, you’re the one who heard a wolf howling!” Stiles exclaimed, his laughter finally tapering off.

“Hey, there could be something seriously wrong with me!” Scott responded, his voice bordering on angry.

“I know!  You’re a Werewolf!” Stiles laughed and then growled at them, his hands raised and curled to mimic claws.

Scott gave him an unimpressed glare, matching the one Charlie was also sporting, and Stiles finally calmed down.

“Okay, obviously I’m kidding.  But, if you see me in shop class trying to melt all the silver I can find, it’s ‘cause Friday’s a full moon.”  Stiles raised his arms and linked his hands behind his neck, continuing to walk through the woods behind Scott who had stopped a couple of yards away.

He looked around the area, confused.  “No, I-I could have sworn this was it.  I saw the body, the deer came running, I dropped my inhaler…”  He started kicking the fallen leaves, moving them around with his feet hoping to find his medicine hidden beneath them.

“Maybe the killer moved the body?”  Stiles shrugged, also kicking up some of the crunchy leaves.

Charlie shuddered at the thought of a murderer wandering around them, hidden by the dense trees and brush.  A swift breeze blew through the woods, carrying with it the smell of smoke and fire.  Her eyes followed a leaf that was still caught up in the wind’s pull, watching it float about the clearing as if dancing with an unseen partner.

“If he did, I hope he left my inhaler.  Those things are, like, eighty bucks,” Scott complained, now bent over, hands dragging along the still damp ground.

A tingle tickled the base of Charlie’s neck the longer she followed the floating leaf.  Her gray eyes moved almost dreamily as it led her in a circle, her feet pivoting in place.  Suddenly, the wind picked up, carrying the leaf she had been watching upwards, her gaze darting to follow, only to see a man standing a few feet away.  He stood still, his stance wide and borderline aggressive, as he pinned her with his steely glare.

The tingle became an itch as they silently stared at each other.  Something about the man was familiar but she couldn’t place him.  Unconsciously, she took a step towards him, and he arched a bushy black eyebrow.  Her movement drew the attention of her two best friends, but they still hadn’t noticed the man.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his hands still hiding in the pockets of his leather jacket.

Scott and Stiles jumped, matching panicked expressions painted their faces, as they whipped around to see him standing imposingly amongst the pines.  Neither spoke, only stared dumbly at him, and Charlie took another step closer.  The smell of smoke was back and it caused her to sniffle back a sneeze.

“Huh?  This is private property,” the man continued, his words almost coming out like growls.

Stiles shuffled his feet, “Uh, sorry, man, we didn’t know.”

The stranger’s eyes flicked from her to Scott, his pale green eyes glaring at the boy intensely.

“Yeah, we were just looking for something, but…” Scott paused, but lost his nerve when the man’s glare grew harsher.

“... Uh, forget it.”

Without warning, the man tossed something at Scott, which he caught with ease.  When he opened his hand to see his inhaler, Charlie turned back to the stranger, her eyes hopeful that he had also found what she had been looking for.  She took another step closer to him, but Stiles pulled her back before she could get any closer.  She struggled against his hold, her eyes never leaving the mysterious man.

He walked across the clearing, clearly ignoring Stiles who was actively trying to pull Charlie away from him.  Every step he took closer he took, the scent of smoke and burning wood grew stronger until her nostrils hurt.  He stopped directly in front of her, his green eyes clashing with her gray ones.  A beat of tense silence filled the space as he pulled his hand out of his pocket.  In his grasp was a black nylon lanyard with her blue whistle.

She couldn’t contain the wide gracious grin that broke out on her face.  She reached up to take it from him, but he grabbed her hand, holding it in place.  His skin was hot to the touch, almost scorching as his fingers wrapped around wrist.

“Hey!  Let her go!” Stiles yelled, moving from behind her to beside her, shoulders squared as he ready to start a fist fight.

The man didn’t say anything, nor did he move his eyes away from hers.  His nostrils flared and his nose wrinkled as if a bad smell had caught him off guard.  He pressed the whistle into her palm.  The second her fingers were wrapped around it, he turned on his heel and walked back into the brush, disappearing between the trees.

Stiles moved in front of her, his eyes roaming over her form as if making sure she hadn’t been hurt in the quick exchange.  She watched his amber eyes stare at her hands, her cheeks warm at his undivided attention.  Scott sighed, shoving his inhaler in his pocket, and turned away from them.

“Um… All right, come on, I gotta get to work,” he said as he walked back the direction they had come.

Before Scott could get too far, Stiles rushed over, and stood in front of him, pressing his hand into his chest to stop him.

“Dude, that was Derek Hale!”

Scott gave him a blank look, so he turned his attention to Charlie, who was distracted checking her whistle for scratches and dents.  His face dipped into an annoyed expression and he groaned.

“You remember, right?  He’s only like a few years older than us.  In fact, I’m pretty sure he was in Max’s class.  They were friends, weren’t they?”

Scott frowned and Charlie looked up, a small smile lifted her lips.  She remembered playing with his sisters while he and Max hung out.  She nodded to them as she tried to remember the youngest sister’s name.

“Remember what?” Scott asked, stepping backwards to get Stiles out of his personal space.

“His family,” Stiles started, glancing quickly over at Charlie, whose face fell as she recalled what he was about to say, “They all burned to death in a fire, like ten years ago.  Right before…”  He trailed off, now both boys looking over at the short blonde.  Her eyes were closed and hands fisted at her side.

Scott mumbled, “I wonder what he’s doing back…”

Stiles scoffed, moving away from him to wrap his arm around Charlie’s shoulders, and pulled her close to his chest.

“Come on,” he whispered into her ear, ignoring the wet drops that soaked through his t-shirt.

He led them away from the clearing and back to the Jeep.  Scott trailed behind them, his feet dragging.  Charlie looked over her shoulder, eyes scanning the woods, the memory of her nightmare of flames and smoke filling her mind once again.

The ride to the vet clinic was quiet.  When they pulled up, Scott got out of the passenger seat, moved it forward for Charlie to crawl out, and pulled his bike out of the rear.  He waved to them as he walked around the back of the building.  Stiles and Charlie sat still for a few moments until Stiles cleared his throat.

“Well, I do believe that I promised you fries and milkshakes, so, you wanna hit up the diner before dinner?” he asked, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.

Charlie nodded, signing “ It is the only apology I’m excited for. ”

Stiles let out a relieved laugh, throwing the car in reverse, and drove to their favorite diner.  They sat in a booth towards the back of the shop, each with a chocolate milkshake and sharing a large plate of fries.  Charlie happily dipped the crispy potatoes into the sweet ice cream, dancing in place with each bite.  Stiles watched her, a content smile spread across his face.  He took in her pink cheeks and could feel her feet swinging under the table, too short to reach the floor.

“I am sorry, ya know.  For whatever I did,” he said, not taking his eyes off her as he ate another fry.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him.  “ I know, and I forgive you.  I forgave you the moment you offered fries and milkshakes. ”

He chuckled, shaking his head, and dipped a fry in ketchup.  They sat in the diner together for about an hour before deciding it was time to head to the Stilinski house to start dinner for the Sheriff.

Dinner with the Stilinski boys after the first day of a new semester was a long standing tradition.  When they got home, Stiles took both backpacks to the dining room while Charlie went into the kitchen to pull out the ingredients for the meal she had chosen.  She started chopping vegetables to prep when Stiles came up beside her.  He turned on the oven and pulled out the needed pots and pans.  The pair worked together seamlessly, years of practice made them a well oiled machine.

Once dinner was in the oven, the teens moved to the dining room to do their homework.  Most of their work was finished quickly, however Chemistry gave the girl some trouble.  He leaned over the large table, explaining which formula was needed to solve the problem when the front door opened.

Noah walked inside, hanging his coat by the door.  “Hey kids.  Something smells good,” he said warmly.  He made his way to them, patting Stiles on the back and kissing Charlie on the forehead.  Stiles grinned at his father, climbing off the table, and Charlie wrapped her arms around the man in a tight hug.  Her phone buzzed on the table top, the timer alerting them that dinner was done.  She hopped up with a grin and rushed to get everything ready to serve.

“Perfect timing, Dad,” Stiles laughed, clearing their homework from the table.

Dinner was delicious and eventful as Stiles almost knocked over a full glass of tea with his enthusiastic retelling of Scott’s performance at practice.  The sheriff just shook his head, his easy smile never faltering.  Charlie felt safe and warm sitting there with them.  

She silently gathered the dirty dishes from the table and retreated back into the kitchen to begin cleaning up.  She had put all the dishes, pots, and pans in the dishwasher and was packing up the leftovers into easy to reheat portions for the sheriff’s lunch when two large hands landed on her shoulders.

“You know you don’t have to cook and clean, Charlie.  I can do some of the dirty work,” Noah said, taking the tupperware containers from her hands and placing them in the fridge.

“ I know, but I want to. ”

The older man sighed and pulled her into a tight hug.  She melted into the man’s chest, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his uniform shirt.  He glanced at the clock on the stove and groaned.

“It’s getting late, kid.  Make sure all your homework is done before you head home, alright?”

He leaned back from the hug, moving his hands back to her shoulders.  She nodded, her smile falling slightly at the thought of returning to the house across the street.  He gently pushed her towards the doorway leading back to the dining room where Stiles was putting their books back out.

The teens dove back into Harris’ absurd amount of homework.  The numerous worksheets slowly got filled in as a heavy rainstorm rolled in.  The sound of the rain hitting the window panes distracted her from Stiles’ explanation of chemical reactions.  Her eyes glazed over as she watched the water run down the glass in rivets.  

She blinked.

Two red dots glowed in the darkness.  She blinked again, and they were gone.

She rubbed her eyes tiredly.  Must have been taillights.

She answered the last question and packed up her bag.  She, again, looked out the window at the rain, dreading the walk across the street.  Stiles noticed her sad face and followed her gaze.

“You don’t have to go home, ya know.  You can always spend the night,” he said, his fingers fidgeting with a pen cap.

Charlie sighed and pulled her jacket back on.  “ I can’t avoid him forever. ”

He frowned, clenching the pen cap in one hand and rubbing the other over his buzzed hair.  “I know.”

She sat her bag by the front door as she pulled up her hood.  The shuffling of his feet drew her attention back to him.  He stood uncomfortably behind her, his hands wringing in front of his chest, and shifting his weight from one leg to another.  His amber eyes stared at the floor, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.  She smiled sadly, hating the fact that he was feeling anxious because of her.  She crossed the short distance to him and took his hands in hers.  She didn’t look up at him.  She kept her eyes on his hands, rubbing the backs of his knuckles with her thumbs.  When he returned her grip, she finally looked him in the eye, and gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile.  His lips twitched in response, but he was unable to smile back.

Her heart hurt as she watched him struggle to do something as simple as smile.  She dropped his hands and wrapped her arms around his back.  His fingers dug into her hair, knocking off her hood, and his nose pressed against the crown of her head.  Neither one of them moved.  The rumble of thunder broke them out of their moment.  She didn’t look at him when she released him, nor did she turn around when she grabbed her bag and walked out the front door.  She stood on the stoop, pulled her hood up again, and walked into the storm.

The evening drizzle was freezing against her skin as the water drenched through her clothes.  Charlie hurried across the street, not surprised to see that the porch light was off and the house was dark even though her brother’s car sat in the driveway.  Once she was safely under the covered deck, she dropped her backpack onto the wooden planks, and took off her soaked jacket.  She then tried to wring out her hair, which only made her look more like a drowned rat.

Giving up on her hair, she reached for the front door, finding it locked.  She frowned and pulled out her keyring, fingering the handle’s key.  She unlocked the deadbolt, however, when she pushed the door, the security chain stopped it from opening.  Her jaw dropped.  Had her brother purposefully locked her out, or had he just not realized that she wasn’t home yet?  She huffed and pulled the door shut with enough force to rattle the frame.  She begrudgingly pulled her jacket back on, the cold denim like ice against her body.  She picked up her bag, and shifted through her keys, looking for the one for the back door.

Stepping back under the curtain of rain was miserable, the stinging droplets felt like needles  stabbing into her skin.  She hurried along the side of the house, clutching her jacket close as her breath fogged up the air in front of her.  Her numb fingers gripped her keys, fumbling with them as she reached for the lock.  She stumbled into the warm kitchen the moment the door swung inward.  She shut and locked the door behind her, and began to strip out of her dripping outer layer.

As she was pulling off her wet socks, a loud slam startled her.  She jerked her head towards the sound only to see Max leaning heavily on the doorframe.  His dark blond hair hung limp on his forehead, not long enough to hide his bloodshot eyes framed by dark circles.  The long neck of a beer bottle dangled delicately from his fingers as he leveled a hard stare at her.

“Where were you?” he asked, his words long and slurred with drunkenness.

Charlie raised her hands to answer him, but was cut off by him stepping farther into the room.

“Answer me!” he shouted, the alcohol flush on his face spreading down his neck.

She flinched away, pressing herself into the corner by the door, between the wall and the kitchen counter.  She kept her eyes on him even though all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball on the floor.

He chuckled under his breath and muttered, “Of course, you can’t.”  He was silent for a moment, his gaze directed at the floor.  Then, suddenly, he threw the beer bottle in her direction.  It shattered against the wall above her head showering her with lukewarm beer and shards of glass.

She crouched in fear, tears falling down her cheeks.  She bolted past him, ducking under his outstretched arm as he attempted to stop her.  Her backpack was clutched tightly to her chest as she careened down the hallway to her room.

“Come back!” Max shouted at her, his voice wavering.  A thump sounded from behind her as she wrenched her door open.

“Charlie!” he called out with a cracked voice as she slammed the wooden door shut behind her.

She bolted the door and quickly shoved her desk chair under the handle.  She fell to the floor as her slick feet slipped on nothing, landing hard on her left hip.  She pulled her knees to her chest, cringing at the stench of stale beer lingering on her hair and clothes.  Her trembling hands pushed wet tendrils of hair out of her face and winced at a shock of pain.  She pulled her fingers away only to see them coated in a light layer of blood.

I can’t stay here.  Not while he’s like this.

She took a deep breath, trying to suppress her silent sobs.  She slowly got to her feet, still a little unsteady as her hip throbbed in pain.  Her heart thudded in her ears as it slowed to its normal pace.  She glanced around the room, finally landing on her window.  She limped over to it, sliding it open, but backed up when the icy raindrops landed on her bare feet.

A soft knock at the door stopped her from pulling out a pair of shoes from under her bed.  She froze in place, a deer-in-the-headlights-stare as she waited for what was coming.

“Charlie?  You still in there?” her brother’s voice was muffled by the wood.  “Probably left already to go back to the Stilinski’s and I can’t blame you.  I can’t do anything right.”

Charlie stared at the door in shock, one shoe on and the other hanging by the laces in her hand.  She didn’t dare move, lest he find out that she was still there and able to hear him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the soft admission almost lost to her ears, muffled by the wall.

Max’s heavy footsteps retreating to his bedroom farther down the hall were the only sound in the house.  She waited motionless for a few seconds until his door shut, before slipping on her other shoe and out the window.  She struggled to close it once she was on the ground, and once she did manage to get it shut, she fell into a mud puddle.  The thick sludgy gunk stuck to her pant legs and back.  She could feel it clumping the long ends of her hair together.  As she stood, her feet skid from under her, almost sending her to the ground again.

A car starting drew her attention to the warm house across the street.  Noah’s police cruiser was pulling out of the driveway, most likely heading back to the station to finish off his late shift.  Her gray eyes drifted upwards, relieved that Stiles’ bedroom light was still on.  She trudged through the yard, every step sinking into the oversaturated ground.

Their front door was unlocked, a bad habit Stiles had developed when he realized that not very many people were stupid enough to break into the Sheriff’s house.  The heating vent that was a couple of feet into the entryway blasted her shivering body with dry hot air.  The sudden increase in temperature reminded her that she hadn’t grabbed a jacket.  The soft plop of water falling to the floor was lost when she pushed the door shut.

Standing frozen in her best friend’s house was sadly a common occurrence.  Bare feet slapping against hardwood drew her focus to the stairs.  Her backpack fell to the floor and she carefully took off her mud-caked shoes.  Warm yellow light spilled out onto the upstairs landing, and a soft humming danced through the night air.  She climbed the stairs slowly, her numb toes aching as they touched the chilled surface, but the draw of comfort pulled her forward.  Sluggishly, she walked to Stiles’ open bedroom door, watching silently as he rubbed a towel over his head.  He was dressed for bed, a plain cream t-shirt that had a fraying collar and green plaid flannel pants.

She rapped her knuckles on the doorframe, a prickle of guilt in her stomach at the look of startled fear that flashed across her best friend’s sleepy face.  She felt even worse when she saw the shock shift to sadness, anger, and what she suspected was pity.  He didn’t say a word as he crossed his room, his amber eyes dark as he threw his towel around her shoulders.  She closed her eyes as the smell of his clean body wash replaced the stench of blood and beer that clung to her clothes.  His long fingers pushed her muddy hair out of her face, accidentally brushing against the cut on her hairline.  She winced away from the touch, stumbling back into the wall.

Stiles frowned and reached for her slowly, palm up.  “Hey, why don’t you take a shower to warm up?  You’re freezing…”

Charlie nodded, pulling the towel tighter.  She shuffled out of the room and into the bathroom across the hall.  When she turned to close the door, she caught a gilmince of her reflection.  Her honey blonde hair hung in clumps around her shoulders, staining the white towel brown with mud.  Her dirty face had tear streaks cutting through the blood and grim.  Dropping the towel, her gray eyes trailed down her body, almost ashamed of the way her filthy blue longsleeve shirt hung off her torso, the flecks of dirt littered every available surface.  Her knees were bleeding through the distressed hole in her jeans, the material suctioned to her skin with how waterlogged they had become during her two runs in the rain.

She carefully stripped off the dirty and wet clothes, letting them splat against the tile floor.  She turned on the water as hot as she could stand it, breathing deeply as the room filled with steam.  The moment the hot spray landed on her back, her numb limbs finally began to relax.  Her mind wandered aimlessly as she watched the rivets of muddy water run down the drain.  Tilting her head back, the hot water dripped blood and dirt into her already bloodshot eyes, but she ignored the stings of pain.

The bathroom door opening startled Charlie, her arms wrapping around herself and peering out from behind the shower curtain.  Stiles stood in the doorway, one hand clamped over his eyes, and the other holding a stack of folded clothes and a clean towel.

“I, uh, brought you something to sleep in,” he grumbled, his knuckles almost white from how tightly he pressed his fingers over the top half of his face.  He stumbled over to the counter to drop the clothes, but tripped over the pile of wet ones in the center of the walkway.  “And, I, um, I’ll put these in the wash, I guess…”  He bent over, his free hand slapping around the floor until he felt the cluster, which he quickly scooped up and fled the room.

Charlie smiled weakly at his antics and went back to her shower.  When she was done, she dried off carefully, patting gently at the new scapes that littered her legs and forehead.  She pulled on an old shirt of Stiles’ that he knew was one of her favorites and a pair of loose boxers.  She glanced at herself in the mirror, but looked away ashamed.  

Back in his bedroom, the spastic boy sat at the foot of his bed, leg bouncing anxiously, and a med-kit by his side.  He jumped up as she entered, gently ushering her to sit where he once had been.  He knelt in front of her, taking care to remain in her line of sight so he didn’t startle her.  He pulled an alcohol wipe from the kit, and started to carefully prodded the area around the cuts on her knees.  The blonde winced and tried to jerk away but one of his large hands wrapped around her thigh, keeping her in place.  Normally, the feeling of his warm callused palm against her skin would be enough to send Charlie into an embarrassed tailspin, but she didn’t have the energy to think too much about it.

Satisfied that her knees were disinfected, Stiles leaned closer to her, brushing her wet hair behind her ear to see the cut on her forehead.  He silently opened a new wipe, gently cleaning the largest wound at her hairline.  Her eyes darted from her exposed legs to his face, watching his tongue dart out to wet his lips as he concentrated.  When it disappeared behind his pink lips, she let her vision wander, plotting constellations out of the moles that littered his skin.  She snapped out of her trance when he put a small band-aid over it.  He smoothed down the plaster, his warm honey eyes meeting her pale gray ones, and he frowned as he watched new tears gather on her waterline.  His fingertips grazed her cheeks, catching the tears as they fell, brushing them away from her face.

He felt his own eyes grow watery at the sight of his best friend crying, her body attempting to curl in on itself, no longer wanting him to see her so vulnerable.

“Want me to stay?  Or would you feel better if I slept on the cou-” he started, but she surprised him by throwing her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.  He fell backwards with her sudden weight, catching himself with one hand, the other wrapping around her back.  He chuckled softly as she pressed her wet cheek to his neck and adjusted his grip on her, getting back to his feet.

“Okay, you little koala, let’s get you tucked in,” he murmured into her hair.  He held her close as he turned off the overhead light and shut his door before attempting to drop her on the bed.  She clung to him tighter, her nails digging into his back.  “Come on, Char, I don’t wanna squish you.”  She shook her head against his shoulder, her grip on him not loosening.  He sighed, looking at the dark ceiling, and laid down on his back.  He choked slightly as he tried to roll onto his side, her arms around his neck pressing against his trachea.

He looked down at her, afraid that she could hear his heart beating erratically in his chest as her cool wet eyelashes tickled his cheek.  He struggled to pull the comforter over their bodies, but once they were tucked in, she relaxed her hold on him.  Stiles waited for her shaking to stop before he leaned away to look at her face.  She was fast asleep, her cheeks and his shirt stained with tears, but her lips were parted with tiny soundless snores.  He let the small puffs of breath against his chest lull him into a deep sleep.