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

Ask Me No Questions

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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Mmkay, I'm not 110% on this one, but I am le tired and I can't look at it anymore, so here you go.

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Chapter 23 - Ask Me No Questions

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There were different levels of whiplash—physical, emotional, psychological—and Charlie was well versed in all of them. But recent events had subjected her to a new form: the complete upheaval of everything she believed possible. Four days. Werewolves had existed as a confirmed reality for four days. Her official induction into the Scooby Gang clocked in at less than twelve hours. And in those twelve hours she had a pop quiz in her sixth period French class, watched Scott have his personal balls pelted by those of the lacrosse variety, had been stalked by a sociopath, saw two men—one of whom she knew—eviscerated, and had several times over been nearly murdered herself.

Needless to say, this had been a very, very long day. And at a time that normally saw her swaddled in a blanket, hot chocolate in hand and The Daily Show on the television screen, she was instead barricading herself into the high school cafeteria with her four closest friends in Beacon Hills. And Jackson.

Twice now the alpha had almost landed on her head. While this wasn't something one could quite get used to, her reaction time was the quickest out of the six of them. "Run!" she shouted. "Guys, move now!"

The group sprinted down the hallway, tripping and stumbling over each other like a herd of uncoordinated goats. Charlie's hand found its way around Lydia's, squeezing it tightly as they ran. Jackson grasped the other, and the two of them half-dragged the redhead after them, the clack of heels fewer and further between as she practically lifted off the ground. They were the last three to clear the threshold of the cafeteria, bursting through the doors and past Stiles, Scott, and Allison. While they skidded, Scott and Allison slammed the doors shut behind them.

Lydia's hand slipped easily from Charlie's sweat-slicked palm. She drew closer to Jackson, huddling against him for safety. Charlie bent over at the waist, hands grasping her knees. She gulped down breaths to recover from the sprint as a series of bangs, scrapes, and hushed exclamations told her someone was blockading them in. Shit, she needed to work more cardio into her regimen. Enough air returned for an almost steady breath and she stood straight, only to have her lungs empty once more. Before her stood a massive, fragile, vulnerable wall of windows.

"Shit."

What possessed the architect of Beacon Hills High School to gift them so many picturesque views and so much natural light? High schools were destined to be cramped, dark, and possessing only the dim macabre of low-grade fluorescents. If a single window actually existed, it shouldn't be large enough to fit a kindergartener through, let alone an alpha. And while normal circumstances found her grateful for Beacon Hills High's absurdly considerate floorplanning, tonight she would gladly trade her daily taste of freedom for an eternity of solid walls of concrete.

"Help me get this in front of the door!" Scott shouted anxiously. He ran to a massive milk refrigeration unit at the end of the lunch counter.

"Scott, wait!" Stiles shouted. Charlie instinctively turned in his direction. Like her own a few moments before, his eyes were fixed on the wall of windows. Like herself, he had reached the conclusion that they were utterly screwed. "Scott, come on," he insisted. "Not here. We can't stay here."