Black Water ↠ Stiles Stilinski [Teen Wolf, Vol. One]

And The One You Don't

Disclaimer: 'Teen Wolf' isn't mine. Shocking, right? But it's true. If there are any similarities in content or dialogue, it has probably originated with the show.

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Okay, so I was gonna give this another read-through, but I am le tired yo. There might be mistakes, I might edit, but I just need to be friggin done, so here you go.

Comments/reviews are appreciated!

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Chapter 21 - And The One You Don't

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"What the fuck?! What the holy hell is going on?!"

The swears echoing against the metal fixtures and tiled walls rang foreign in Charlie's ears. But so did all other elements of the scene before her. Charlie couldn't arrange the visual and auditory stimuli into a configuration that made sense. Flickering fluorescent lights, red splashed across stainless steel, the smell of rust and industrial strength cleaner. She blinked so rapidly the light struck her pupils like a stroboscope.

The image hit her brain in flashes. The veterinarian—Scott's boss—sat behind an operating table. No, 'sat' was too structured. He sagged. His spine propped up his frame with all the support of overly cooked pasta. He was held up by a Home Depot's supply of duct tape around his middle, holding his wrists to the armrests, covering his mouth. At each point the silver was smudged with blood. A gash across his forehead leaked slowly down his face, staining his shirt. For a suspected alpha and brutal killer, he looked unexpectedly helpless.

"What is she doing here?!"

It was Derek's voice that forced her eyes away from the carnage. He stood next to the veterinarian, dried, crusted blood flaking from his knuckles. Not his blood. The rage flitting through his features threatened that she very well might be next. Probably an empty threat, but no less bone-chilling. Luckily Scott was there to dilute his anger. He rounded on Scott, the muscles of his neck tensing as he held that anger inside his body. "Scott, what the hell is she doing here?!"

In typical form, Charlie's mouth was faster than her brain. "I drove him here," she snapped. "What—do you have something against carpooling?"

"I'm sorry—did I ask you?"

"Derek, calm down," Scott urged. "She's okay. She's with me." He turned to Charlie, his usual moon-eyed expression sharpened by panic. "What are you doing here?"

"I saw Derek's car," she said, gesturing towards the exit. "I figured that meant trouble, which it obviously does. And I don't understand why I'm the one getting the third degree when I'm staring at a dude who's had eighteen types of shit kicked out of him!"

"Hold on!" Derek rounded the exam table, and any false bravado puffing up Charlie's frame fled quicker than a breath. She shrank towards the door, but Derek stopped in front of Scott. "'She's with me,'" he parroted. "Are you saying that she knows? You told her? You and your friend have caused enough freaking problems already, and you're telling me I have to deal with another one?!"

"I didn't tell her!"

"Then why the hell is she here?!"

The tendons in Derek's neck took on a life of their own, practically dancing a conga as they clenched and unclenched. Scott may have been some level of invincible, but the full force of Derek's rage had him trembling. "Whoa, slow your roll there, discount Zoolander," Charlie said, steeling herself enough to take a step forward. "I know because all of you—you included—suck at not being suspicious. I just put two and two together. And I might be a bit late to the game, but that doesn't mean I can't play a few rounds."