A/N: Alex as a father makes my heart melt into a little puddle. The chapters are probably going to be on the shorter side (1500-3500 words, if you consider that short), but will have more frequent updates. This one happens to be a long one. The number of words also depends on how much happens within the chapter and how much inspiration I have for whatever I'm writing about. Now that school's started I'm kind of busy. So many plans for this story :) Please follow, favorite, and especially review! That would mean the world to me.

Little Sheriff: Chapter Two
The chirping of her alarm woke Charlie up with a startle, as she frantically searched for her phone so she could turn it off. After about thirty seconds of becoming a madman, she eventually found it and shut it off. It was 6:00, which was too early in her opinion. It was the end of October and school had started in mid-August, so you would have thought that she would be more accustomed to the sleep schedule now. But alas, every time it went off she still was full of surprise, as if it was something that she wasn't expecting.

Ten minutes full of contemplation passed when she decided that she should probably get up. Charlie climbed out of bed and into her slippers and warm wool robe. She walked to the bathroom, her feet sinking into the plush hallway carpet. She peed, brushed her teeth, and showered. Once she was out, she pulled on some jeans and a sky blue colored hoodie, dried her hair, and put on a layer of mascara. There was no way in hell that she was going to get all dolled up for the youth of White Pine Bay.

That was when Charlie finally noticed the clinking noises of pots and pans coming from downstairs, and the faint smell of something that resembled pancakes, but also could pass for burning hair. She quickly darted down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she was met with the sight of her father attempting to push something around in a pan.

"You're.. cooking?" She asked, trying to stifle a laugh. Alex had never been the one to cook. Her mother was more of the chef between the two of them. Whenever she was here, she usually ended up cooking, they went out, or they ate something that came from a box with instructions on the back.

Alex pretended to be offended and rolled his eyes at his daughter. "Yes, I am cooking," He said, a certain tone of disdain present. "Being a cop isn't the only thing that I'm good at, you know," He tried while putting whatever was in the pan on a plate. Charlie could now see that it was eggs. There was bacon in the other pan and blueberry pancakes on the griddle. He knew they were her favorite.

"Modest, too, aren't you?" Charlie asked playfully, taking a seat at the breakfast nook overlooking the kitchen. She observed her father. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, was looking a bit disheveled and flustered, and had a towel thrown over his shoulder. He was like a little Martha Stewart. "Why exactly are you cooking, though? And how? We have no food."

"Smartass," He put two strips of bacon next to the eggs and proceeded to flip over two pancakes that were currently cooking. "I stopped at the grocery store this morning and picked up some things for breakfast. If you want to go get more groceries later, I'll give you some money. As we both know, shopping isn't one of my many talents," He glanced up to see Charlie rolling her eyes at him being cocky on purpose. "But I'm making you breakfast because I don't want this to be completely awful. I know you didn't want to move here, that your mother forced you to. The least I can do is make you some pancakes."

She smiled at this. "Thank you."

"For making you pancakes? You're welcome," Alex tilted his head and smiled briskly while grabbing the spatula. He carefully slid the two pancakes on to the plate and handed it to Charlie, who accepted it graciously.

"Well, yeah that too, but thank you for trying. That's more than I can say for mom or.. David," She cringed both internally and externally when his name came out of her mouth.

"You should take it easy on your mom. She loves you, you know. As for David, do what you want, I don't care," Charlie snickered and shoved a piece of pancake into her mouth. She let it sit on her tongue for a moment, before giving it the nod of approval. "This is good. But next time you might want to wear an apron," Charlie pointed to her dad's front, which had a light coating of flour all over it. Alex looked down at his shirt, and then back up to his daughter. He promptly stuck his tongue out at the teenager and disappeared off into the living room. "Be ready to leave in fifteen!"

༺ ༻

Alex had insisted on driving his daughter to school, and Charlie wasn't going to protest. She'd rather be in the warm car than having to walk there in the crisp air outside. It was only October, and it was Oregon, but it was still cold. The two quickly said goodbye as he dropped her off in front of the school. She hopped out of the vehicle and sauntered inside, her charcoal colored backpack hanging off her shoulders. A few glances were thrown her way when she opened the doors and walked into the filled hallway, but not as many as she was expecting. According to some paper that her mother had given her with her schedule and locker number, hers was Locker 359.

Charlie pushed past the crowd, refusing to make eye contact with anybody, and found her locker. It was right next to the World History classroom. She struggled with the lock for only a few seconds before it came off, and the metal door opened. It was relatively clean, except for the few scribbles of graffiti inside. L+S, Matt was here, and Elena Cooper is easy! stared back at her. She rolled her eyes at the feeble attempts of high school students to leave their mark and started to pull out heavy textbooks from her bag.

She heard someone shuffle up to the locker next to her a few seconds later, and when she closed her door she could see the stranger that would be neighboring her in the hallway. The girl was dark skinned, had a head full of crazy curls, a septum piercing, and looked like she'd rather stick hot needles in her eyes than be here.

"Hi," Charlie nervously said. She wasn't sure that this girl wanted to be her friend, exactly, but she was going to try anyway. To her surprise, she turned towards her and didn't just ignore her.

"Hey," She shortly replied and closed her locker door. "I'm Sofia."

Sofia didn't stick her hand out to shake Charlie's, she just gave her a small smile instead. That was better than an awkward handshake, anyways.

"I'm Charlie."

Sofia nodded. Her eyes widened after a few seconds. "You're the new kid, right? Dude, everyone's talking about you."

Charlie sighed. Really? Couldn't she just have a fresh start like a normal new kid? Of course, there had to be some strings attached when you were a Romero kid. "What are they saying?"

"Mainly just that you're Sheriff Romero's daughter," They both began to walk down the hallway, a notebook and a textbook each, along with some pencils and pens. Charlie had no idea where she was going, so might as well just follow this girl she'd just met. Just like she'd eaten dinner with the woman and her son who she knew nothing about. So far her choices here were prime. "Some idiot said he wanted to smash you. Boys are stupid."

"I second that."

"Hey, what's your first class?" Sofia asked a sense of hopefulness in her voice. She didn't seem as angry anymore, now that Charlie had actually talked to her. She was actually proving to be pretty nice.

"Uh.." Charlie lifted up her notebook to reveal a green covered Biology textbook. "Bio with Ms. Scott."

Sofia bumped her companion's shoulder and turned down a hallway towards their destination. "Me too."

Somehow, Charlie made it through the rest of the day without feeling completely alone. She had Sofia in her second-period class too, and her sixth. For the other hours, she just made small talk with some of the kids that weren't wearing designer jackets or six-inch heels. The snobby rich kids all had daggers in their eyes. Charlie stayed away from them.

Then the eighth period rolled around, the last one of the day. It hadn't been as bad as she was expecting, but she was definitely more than ready to go home and plop on the couch. The class was English, which wasn't too bad. English had always been one of the more tolerable classes for her. Ms. Watson didn't make her stand up in front of the class and introduce herself like a few other teachers had. She was nice and didn't really bore Charlie, which was new.

"This is a partner assignment, so I want everybody to split up into pairs of two or three."

The bell rang, and kids started to lock eyes with their friends while gathering their things and leaving. Charlie froze and cautiously looked around the room. She couldn't spot anybody that looked remotely familiar or friendly until...

"Norman!" She grabbed her things and zoomed towards his desk. He and another girl were engaged in a conversation.

He stopped mid sentence and turned to face her. He smiled. "Hey, Charlie."

"You two know each other?" The girl questioned, eyeing them suspiciously.

Charlie nodded and quickly began to explain. "Uh, yeah, we met at Georgia's yesterday. I actually had dinner with him and his mom.." She trailed off but turned back to the pair after a few seconds. "Anyways, sorry for butting in, but you're the only person in this classroom that I know, so do you think I could work with you guys?"

"Sure. Yeah, okay." Norman nodded and shrugged, and looked to Emma, who was nodding as well.

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks. I'm Charlie," She introduced herself to the girl. Charlie hadn't even noticed the decorated oxygen tank trailing behind her until right now. She probably had some sort of awful disease. Her guess was cystic fibrosis.

Emma's eyes lit up as recognition washed over her face. "Oh, you're the sheriff's kid!"

And there it was again, rearing its ugly head. She just wanted to be her own person without any pre judgments attached, but it seemed like that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. "Unfortunately, yes."

Emma must have caught on to the fact that Charlie wasn't amused by what she'd just said because she quickly started apologizing. "Sorry, I didn't mean that in a bad way or anything. Your dad seems.. cool. It's just that I've seen you around a few times. I'm Emma Decody." She held her hand out.

"Nice to meet you." Charlie shook Emma's hand and rested her arm back by her side. She was definitely forgiven.

"Anyways, we could meet tomorrow?"

"Cool," Norman said, again, shoving his hands into his pockets like he'd done last night, too. Charlie was still confused about the fact that he was Norma's kid. The two seemed like polar opposites.

"Great. We'll come to your place," Emma looked at Norman with a large, giddy smile on her face. Her dimples were practically springing from her cheeks.

"Oh, well maybe we should-"

"Does 11:00 work for you? I can stop by your house and pick you up," Emma looked to Charlie. Charlie didn't have a car, and she didn't really want to walk all the way to the motel. Her father driving her was not an option. So she smiled and nodded. "We'll be there."

༺ ༻

The next day, Charlie woke up at the pleasant time of 9:30, to find her father gone. Not a surprise. She went downstairs after taking a long, hot shower, and poured herself a giant cup of coffee. She then opened the fridge and smiled when she saw that it was full. A trip to the grocery store was certainly needed, so she had gone after school yesterday and practically cleaned out all the shelves. The cashier had eyed her strangely, so she bluntly replied with "Romero's my dad," and the cashier nodded in understanding.

Charlie walked back upstairs after that, showered, did the whole routine. She decided on a blush colored t-shirt dress, some boots, and a jacket. When she looked back at the clock she saw that it was already 10:30, so Emma could be here at any time.

15 minutes later she was sitting in an orange Volkswagen Beetle, chatting happily with Emma, and pulling into the Bates Motel parking lot. The two walked up the many, many stone steps, and by the time they finally reached the top Emma was a little out of breath. She was coughing a fair amount. "You okay?" Charlie asked, concern apparent on her face.

"I'm good," She nodded and rang the doorbell. A boy answered, but it wasn't Norman. Actually, a man answered. He was tall and muscular and had short cut dirty-blonde hair. He was attractive in Charlie's book.

"Hi!" Emma's voice instantly became more chipper than usual. "We're here to study with Norman."

The boy made eye contact with the both of them and smiled. His eyes lingered over Charlie a bit too long. "Hey, Norman, there are two girls here for you."

Upon getting no reply, Dylan moved to the side and opened the door wider. "Come in."

The two of them obliged and smiled at him as they walked into the house. The outside looked a lot creepier than the inside. Granted, the inside was no modern day HGTV house, but something about it was comforting. The pictures of Norman that commandeered the living room were sweet. It was easy to see that his mother really loved him.

"Charlie!" Norma's face lit up when the two girls walked into the kitchen, Dylan trailing behind them. She opened her arms and gave Charlie a quick squeeze before looking next to her at Emma.

"Hey, you must be Mrs. Bates. I'm Emma."

"Hello, Emma." The woman turned around and eyed her son who was sitting at the table, nervously rapping his fingers on his thighs. Her look shouted 'why are there two teenage girls here for you?', remembering the night that Bradley Martin had come to the door, and it all went to shit. But Norma had to catch herself. She did have the sheriff's daughter around, now.

"Hey Emma, Charlie," Norman greeted them with a smile and a nod before looking to his mother. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. We're all doing a Language Arts project together."

"Poetry, how exciting, right?" Charlie half-joked, earning a chuckle from Dylan who had yet to introduce himself. But she really did despise poetry. Something about it made the world seem better somehow, which she knew was not true. There were terrible, god-awful people on this planet and it was easier to just face that fact rather than dance around it with fancy words and pleasant imagery.

Dylan leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed against his chest. "Poe and Whitman were my enemies in high school. I'm Dylan by the way. Norman's my brother."

She smiled and Emma and Norman stared at the two curiously. Norma did the same but was less obvious about it. Between her late husband and two sons, one of which had always been a troublemaker, snooping had become one of her gifts. "Charlie Romero."

"Nice to meet you, Charlie."

"You too, Dylan." They locked eyes. His were a pretty blue that were quite literally, the color of the sky. A few seconds felt like hours for Dylan and Charlie, and apparently everyone else too because Norman cleared his throat and rose from his spot at the table. "We'll be upstairs if you need us, mother."

Norma nodded. "Alright, Norman. Let me know if you get hungry." She gave her son a quick kiss on the cheek before sending him and the girls on their ways. Once she could see that they were out of earshot, she turned to her eldest with a scowl on her face.

"Don't even think about it, Dylan." She cautiously warned him.

Dylan tilted his head and shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Norma sighed. It was always going to be like pulling teeth with him. "That girl is sixteen years old. It's inappropriate, she's off limits."

"Okay, sure Norma," He nodded, grabbed two freshly baked cookies off of the plate sitting on the table, and gave her a smirk before leaving the room. "I guess you'd rather have Norman make out with her, then." He knew it was the perfect jab in the heart towards Norma. In her eyes, she was the only woman that Norman was ever allowed to have.

༺ ༻

"The Tiger by William Blake is a classic. I think we should go with that one." Emma spoke after the long silence between the three of them. They each had a book in hand, filled with words of life and death, love and lust.

Charlie absentmindedly twirled a piece of hair around her finger, while reading some disturbing French poem. Whoever wrote this should probably be on some sort of watch list. These critically acclaimed writers really needed some therapy. "Let me see." She took the book from Emma, and quickly skimmed through it, barely absorbing the words, but happy to finally have found something. All of this reading was making her brain hurt. "Okay, sounds good to me."

"What's it about?" Norman asked, raising an eyebrow.

"How could a God who made all this beautiful stuff in the world also make things that are scary and evil?" This caught Charlie's attention. Sounded realistic enough for her. "Good job, Em. You did the impossible. You found a poem that might actually not make me want to throw up." Emma rolled her eyes and smiled. She was just about to reach for her notebook when her phone buzzed and lit up. Emma looked at it curiously and sighed when she saw who the message was from. "It's my dad. He wants me home, now."

"Shit, Emma, what'd you do?" Charlie's eyes widened.

The brunette sighed and shook her head. "It's always something with him. Any excuse for me to not have much of a life outside of home and school." She arose from the bed and started shoving books and papers into her brown leather backpack. "I can take you home now if you want?"

"Actually, my mom could give Charlie a ride. We still have to finish up with some more notes," Norman piped up, a half-smile plastered on his face.

Emma looked between the two of them and narrowed her eyes at Charlie. She could sense that there was something weird going on between the two of them. Or at least one of them. The other person was completely clueless. "Are you sure?"

Norman nodded his head. "Yeah, it's no problem." Charlie shrugged.

"Okay," "Well, bye guys, I'll see you Monday."

"Bye, Emma!" Charlie and Norman spoke in harmony.

Now that they had a poem picked out, they had to dissect the crap out of it. Charlie glanced in her own bag, where the rest of her belongings were. She pulled out a notebook and pencil and started explaining what everything meant, line by line. Norman was working on some sort of essay, or rather, dissertation based on how much he was writing about the author. They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Charlie's pencil slipped out of her hand and pinged when it hit the floor. She bent down to pick it up, but her attention was drawn to something else. There was a small book shoved in between Norman's mattress. It was probably something he didn't want anybody to see. If it was a diary she would quickly shut it, put it back, and never talk or think about it again. But curiosity got the best of her, and she found herself pulling the journal out. Charlie was surprised by what she saw when she opened it. It could have possibly been a diary, but it was entirely in Japanese, and there were pictures. They were good; the pages depicted a well-drawn girl, bound by rope in some room. You could feel her fear.

Charlie sat up and brought the book to her lap. She swatted Norman on the leg and smiled when he looked up at her. "Well shit. You can draw."

Norman's eyes widened when he saw what was in her hands. She's going to think I'm weird. "Oh, that's nothing."

She squinted and tilted her head to the side. "No, Norman, this is a real talent."

Norman shook his head and looked down at the blankets on his bed. They had never been more interesting than they were right now. "I didn't draw them. I found the book in one of the motel rooms while doing some re carpeting."

Charlie picked up on his sudden attitude change and rolled her eyes. "I actually took Japanese both my freshman and sophomore years. Not to toot my own horn, but I was pretty good at it. Do you think I could hang onto this for a bit?"

For a few seconds, he simply stared at her, deep in thought. Would his mother be mad? No Norman, you're being ridiculous. Mother doesn't even know this exists. When he finally came to the conclusion that she could he slowly nodded his head. "Yeah, okay, sure."

Norman gave her a half smile and turned his eyes back to his paper. His attention was elsewhere though. He was thinking about the dark haired girl sitting next to him. Her fair skin had a splash of freckles that trailed down her neck and disappeared within the pink fabric of her dress. He finally understood the poem. There were so many evil things in the world, but equally, there were so many beautiful things.

Tiger Tiger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tiger Tiger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Charlie was a beautiful thing.

༺ ༻

Another hour passed before Norman and Charlie decided that they were all worded out. There was an innumerable amount of things that could have been much, much, worse, but still. They needed their free time. And quite honestly, Charlie was tired of Norman. He had an annoying habit of clicking his pen.

The two teenagers bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Norma was just finishing up washing and putting away some dishes. She turned at the sound of them entering the room and smiled. Charlie eyed the plate of cookies that were still present on the table and grabbed one. She bit into it and was pleasantly impressed. Who knew that chocolate chip cookies could have so much going for them?

"Mom, can you give Charlie a ride home?" Norman had stepped closer to his mother now and motioned behind him where Charlie was standing. "Emma had to leave early, and she was her ride."

Norma nodded, grabbed a nearby hand towel, and dried herself off, having finished doing all of the dishes. "Of course."

"Great, let me just get my jacket."

Norma winced when her son excitedly started to dart back towards the stairs. She caught hold of his arm and stopped him. "Actually, Norman, I need you to stay here and fix some shutters. A few of them on the left side of the house are broken." Norman tilted his head curiously at his mother. Norma caught this and gave him a reassuring smile. It was easy to see that he had a little crush. "Don't worry, I'll make sure she gets home alright."

After a few seconds the boy nodded, but it was easy to see that he wasn't happy. Norman shuffled off into the kitchen to go out the back door, but turned around and muttered a goodbye to Charlie before reaching the doorway.

The corners of Charlie's lips upturned, and she found herself waving at him. "Bye, Norman. See you Monday."

The two women walked out of the house and down the ridiculous amount of stone steps before reaching the car. Charlie ran her fingers lightly along the front of it, careful not to scratch the exterior. As a kid, she sometimes helped her dad fix cars, which basically consisted of her handing him a wrench everyone once and awhile, but she still learned a lot from just observing. That and the fact that David was obsessed with old vehicles. It was pretty much the topic of every dinner conversation that had occurred since he and her mother had started living together.

"You have good taste. What is this, 1973?"

Norma raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "1972, actually. You like cars?"

Charlie shrugged. "Not really. But my step-dad never shuts up about them." She gave Norma a smirk, opened the passenger door, and got in the car. Norma got in as well, put her key into the ignition, and turned it. The gentle rumble of the engine greeted them along with the crunch of the gravel as they turned on to the main road.

It was only silent for a beat before Norma leaned to her right slightly and met eyes with Charlie. "So I'm not really part of the White Pine Bay gossip crowd, and that's pretty much the only way you hear any news in this town. I was wondering if your dad had any leads in the Keith Summers case."

There's a Keith Summers case?

"What Keith Summers case?"

"Oh, I assumed he would have told you."

That's funny.

"He doesn't tell me a lot of things."

"A few nights ago, Keith Summers went missing," The woman began to explain, "They're classifying it as a homicide, but I haven't heard if they have any suspects yet."

A homicide? In White Pine Bay? Jesus.

"Keith Summers was murdered?" Her eyes widened to the size of saucers. Charlie leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. "I mean, he probably had it coming. He was always mean. And creepy. I think he hit on me- or at least tried -when I was here last year."

Norma scoffed and shook her head. "Yeah, I've heard he was a real piece of work."

"If my dad gets any leads, I'll let you know. Don't count on it though. He really doesn't talk to me about anything."

In his eyes, I'm still the little girl with pigtails.

Norma caught on to the annoyance and possibly a bit of sadness, too in Charlie's voice. Spending money on clothes was always a great stress reliever. Sure, it might stress you out later on when you check the balance of your bank account, but in the moment all that mattered was that you got that new pair of heels you'd been eying for some time.

"Do you want to go shopping? I think some retail therapy would be good for the both of us. You can just tell your dad you'll be home late, and I'll tell Norman," Norma noticed Charlie's hesitant look and rolled her eyes playfully. "C'mon, it'll be fun!"

"Okay, Norma," She sighed and offered the blonde a smile that was quickly reciprocated. Charlie shook her head and laughed lightly. "Charlotte Romero, what have you gotten yourself into?"