weightless / teen wolf

26 = Grief & Gratitude

I do not own Teen Wolf or any of its characters. I only own Celeste. If I did Sciles would be off somewhere having fun and being pals.

Song - Poison // Vaults

Third Person POV

The world seemed a bit more grey in the days following the night of the formal.

Inside Beacon Hills Hospital, the building was a buzzing hub of constant activity and urgency.

For Stiles, however, the world was on mute.

He couldn't fathom why everyone was still moving as though there was a purpose to fulfill, couldn't understand how they could possibly continue on as if there was a point.

For Stiles, there was no point. Not without her.

The boy's grief didn't stop within the walls of his mind, either. It bled through and into the hearts of those around him, until everyone was pumping the poison of remorse throughout themselves.

Without realizing it, the girl with the mermaid hair and hurricane eyes had embedded herself deep in to the souls of her friends.

Unbeknownst to her, the sight of her lying, comatose, on a stiff white hospital bed, her heart beating only with the assistance of an abundance of machinery, was the anvil that lethargically burdened the minds of everyone she had touched so deeply in her time in Beacon Hills.

Without her, the people she had met on her journey were as hopeless as her chances of survival.

Isaac Lahey, the boy with the sandy curls and black-and-blue stained secrets, visited her as much as his strict father would allow. His already heavy heart was tearing into pieces at the thought of never seeing her caring, understanding eyes again, and the idea of never being able to thank the girl who had saved him from himself.

Scott McCall, the teen with the glowing eyes and a heart of gold, stopped by the hospital quite a few times, to make sure his best friend was taking care of himself, and to check on the girl that had been the guiding shoulder on his arm, the gentle voice that whispered words that meant the difference between giving in to his primitive instincts and forcing himself to stay in touch with his humanity.

Allison Argent, the girl with the sharp arrows and sweeter smile, dropped by whenever she could in the midst of her new training regimen. She stopped by to see the girl who had welcomed her with open arms and a slew of pop culture references, the one who had kept her sane in the midst of a war that was causing her to lose her mind.

Jackson Whittemore, the lost boy with a barbed wire fence around his heart, would sneak in to her room undetected to pay his respects to the girl who had offered him a sense of unbiased understanding, the only person who had ever offered him kindness without some kind of agenda.

It seemed everyone in Celeste's circle of care had come to visit, except for the man who had second-handedly put her into the predicament she was currently in.

That is, until the dark familiarity of midnight brushed across the landscape of Beacon Hills that night, and a man whose aura blended in with the night sky appeared in Celeste's room.

Derek Hale stood in front of the comatose girl with his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket awkwardly, his mossy green eyes peering down at her below furrowed brows.

Truthfully, the man saw the young girl as a little sister, he had accepted her into his messed up family somewhere along the way, but he had never expected that she would take a bullet for him.

For the first time in years, Derek had found someone who trusted and loved him unconditionally, and he had been the cause of her demise.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, his thoughts screamed of a distant memory from his youth.

With this in mind, he stepped forward and brushed a tress of black out of her face and tenderly reached for her arm.

"Thank you," he whispered hoarsely, bringing the limb up to his vision.

Without further ado, Derek's eyes began glowing blood red and he sank his sharpened fangs into her flesh.

He didn't stick around to see the result of his actions, he couldn't. His mind was plagued with memories of a girl with black dripping from her lips.

He didn't linger to see the way Celeste's hand began to twitch slightly.

Her skin glowed with the light of the moon that shone through the billowing curtains that adorned her hospital room windows.

For a moment, there was nothing. Then, it happened.

The bloody wound freshly marked on her arm began to glimmer with a silver, iridescent glow that rivaled the color her eyes had turned just weeks before, and beneath her hospital gown, the puckered, angry skin around her wound began to do the same.

Slowly, her entire body began to glow, and with a force that one could only describe as mystical, the wounds began to recede and heal.

They seemed to almost evaporate, as if an energy had pulled them from her body.

The process lasted for at least a few minutes, but steadily, color began to return to her ghostly pale figure.

Then, with the swiftness of a bullet, the girl sat up in the bed with a gasp for air as her heart monitor beeped erratically next to her.

Her eyes were glowing silver.

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Lmao you thought.

Seriously I don't think I could ever kill off Celeste. Honestly, I'm going to struggle with killing off the characters that are supposed to be dead.

But guys what is going on?!?!? Who knows?!?!?! I know!

Now is the time to tell me if you guys would be interested in a sequel?? Honestly I'll probably write it regardless but it would be nice to hear some feedback.

Ok I'm going to go rewatch 5x11 love you guys!!

Stay Hydrated,

-xoxo, gossip girl

((Just Kidding. It's Belle.))