A/N: Oh... oh my gosh. I couldn't resist this. I just couldn't. Yes, this is one of those Wybie-goes-into-the-Other-World stories, but what it's not is him knowing Coraline at all. That's right, folks. The movie's titled Coraline, but now it's going to be called Wyborne.

.Chapter One: Pontiac.

A half-rusted with age black beetle drove along the chipped pavement of the highway. Rain splattered against the windows only to be wiped away by the vehicle's wipers. A green sign settled on the side of the road announced, "Welcome to Pontiac, Michigan!" The small boy in the car sighed in misery while his grandmother sighed in relief.

"Finally," she murmured, curving onto a small backroad from the highway, leaving them alone with nothing but the rain for company.

"Mm." the boy grunted, curls bouncing with the movement. He put his chin on his fist and stared out into the fog that was now settling in with the rain. His olive eyes drooped, unimpressed by the scenery.

"Come now, Wyborne," his grandmother scolded, taking another turn into town. The buildings were every shade of gray, minus a small ice cream shop, which was every shade of a bright neon sunset. "Sit up and stop sulking."

"Wybie, Gramma. Wy. Bie." said he, obeying his grandmother and sitting up a bit straighter. "I'm never going by Wyborne."

"Nonsense. It's you're name, and you should be proud of it."

"H-how can you be proud of something when it asks why you were born?" Wybie countered, giving his reflection in the mirror in front a raised eyebrow. He was a professional eyebrow raiser.

"It doesn't ask why you were born, honey. It's just pronounced that way."

As if. He huffed with icy laughter as they pulled onto a winding, rocky road that splayed pebbles every which way. Farther up was their new home. The green-eyed boy winced at how run-down and peeled it appeared to be. A faded mix between what used to be a bright purple and orange, the paint seemed to ooze downwards over time, leaving behind the mix of very a gooey-looking paintjob. "Who would paint a house purple?" he inquired, leaning over the seat to get a better look, watching the moving van approach. It was supposed to be called the Pink Palace.

"Obviously the owners." his grandmother said, pulling up next to the van. Wybie made sure his jacket was zipped and his jeans were rolled up, and stepped outside into the murky mess that the rain had caused. It seemed more like tiny pellets of ice, now. He wrapped his arms around himself, teeth chattering slightly and breath forming small clouds in the air.

"I-I'm going in, Gramma." he muttered, making a break for it. She rolled her eyes and pulled out her checkbook to give the movers a tip.

Slamming the door behind him and shaking the ice out of his curls, Wybie looked in dismay at his new home. Wallpaper that was once white had turned an ugly shade of tan and peeled from the wall like woodshavings. The wood on the cabinets needed a polish, and the floor tiles were no longer white either.

He had some serious work to do.

Sighing for the second time that day, Wybourne kicked off his green shoes and walked into the living room, nearly slipping on the floor due to his socks. An idea rolled its way into his head and he gave a small grin, rushing forward and putting his arms out in front of him as he glided gently across almost half of the floor.

"To do list: polish every floor in the house." he said to himself, stretching and shuffling off his jacket, hanging it on the closest hanger nearby. Wybie plopped down onto the couch, taking comfort in the fact that it was the same one from their old home.

The living room seemed to be the only place that was actually clean; the hardwood floor gleamed a bright brown color, the couch smelled fresh, and the TV was all hooked up and just begged for him to turn it on. He did, and wrapping his arms around the back of his head, began to watch whatever was on.

.x.X.x.

Wybie wasn't sure how long he had been asleep for. He wasn't aware he had fallen asleep, either. But he definitely wasn't ready to wake up. It'd been to long of a drive, and everyone knows how hard it is to sleep on a car going sixty on the freeway.

"Hey." Oh, no. No way he was waking up. Too early.

"Hey you!" Five more minutes...

"Wake up!" He felt himself being shaken and opened his eyes reluctantly. Bringing on arm over them to wipe away the grogginess, he saw who the culprit of his rude awakening was.

A small, pale girl with blue hair and a yellow raincoat stood over him, foot tapping against the floor and arms crossed in annoyance. She had dark hazel eyes and thin eyebrows, with a few freckles splattered across her face. She did not look happy.

"W-who are you?" Wybie asked, sitting up and tilting his head at her. She rolled her eyes.

"Coraline. Coraline Jones."

"C-Caro-?"

"Not. Caroline." she hissed, eyes burning with anger. What had snuck into her pants?

"Uh huh." he mumbled absently, standing up and fetching his coat. "Why are you here? You know, it's called breaking and entering. I think you can spend up to three years in jail for that. Well. Juvenile for you, since you're under age, but still..." He heard her groan, and smirked a little. If his successive talking didn't drive her out, then nothing would.

"You tell me you're name first." she said, following him as he wandered into the kitchen for a snack. Everything was set up and moved in, so he must have been asleep for a while. At least his grandmother had allowed him to rest.

"My name?" Snatching an apple from the basket on the counter, he bit into it as she stared. "What's in a name? That which we call a rose. By any other name would smell as sweet." he drawled, quoting one of the cheesiest novels he's ever read. The girl looked at him like he was some kind of zoo animal.

"Uh. Wow. You are a creep."

"I try." he said, biting into the apple again. Coraline shook her hea,d blue hair doing the same.

"No, really. What's your name?"

"Wybie Lovat."

"...Wybie? As in, why be?"

"That's just how it's pronounced. It actually means 'Daring Man of Awesomness.'"

"Right. Is it... short for something?"

"Mhm. Wyborne."

She stared. He stared back coolly, rolling the apple in his hands.

"Wyborne. Why born. Why. Born." she emphasized, gesturing with her hand to the boy. His mouth melted into a smug grin.

"Yup."

"You don't care at all about that? Not at all? Not that your name asks why you were born?"

"Once again, what's in a name, that which we call a rose..."

"Stop. Just... stop." she held up both of her hands, as if she'd die if she heard one more repeat of that quote. "I think I should go. I was just going to welcome you to the crappy town of Pontiac, but obviously you're insane." she made a beeline for the door, which he promptly opened for her and bowed mockingly.

"Parting is such sweet sorrow." He was doing it again. Coraline "Ughhhh"ed in frustration before strutting out the door, which he watched her do with a grin. Slamming the door behind him, his grin fell and he frowned. The blue hair just screamed "Attention Seeker." Rolling his eyes, Wybie dropped the half-eaten apple into the trash can and hopped up the stairs to take a glance at his new room.

Wincing every time the steps in his home squawked when he tentatively pressed his foot against it, he finally made it. Pushing the door open, Wybie was greeted by a dust-covered, paint-chipped, piece of crap.

"...Wow."

Boxes scattered across the room made it difficult, but he managed to wade his way through them to his bed, which had an odd lump under it. Funny, why would there be a lump...? Unless it was a spider.

"Hm." he hummed, peeking inside the boxes until he found what he was looking for – and encyclopedia on slugs. Holding it up protectively, he crept back over to his bed, threw the covers up over the lump –

Only to be greeted by a sleeping, black, dirty furball of a cat.

"Heeey!" he scowled, watching the animal open one blue eye. It looked at him, and then proceeded to curl back up on his bed.

"Get up!" Wybie said, making a move to attempt to move the feline himself. The cat blinked its eyes open, stretched, and then rubbed against his outstretched hand, purring in content. Wybie's eyebrows rose in surprise. "H-hi, there."

"Meow."

"Meow to you too." he chuckled as it continued to head-butt his hand. Sitting down on the bed, he set the cat onto his lap and stroked its slightly-ratty fur. "You need a bath, boy."

He could have sworn the thing smirked at him. Flicking its tail, it mewed.

"Ohh! I see. You're a wild cat." he grinned as it licked his finger. This was the start of a beautiful friendship. "I think you're hungry."

A mewling sound emitted from its throat as it seemed to nod. Wybie made a move to pick the cat up, but it leaped from his arms and sprinted out the door. He blinked, then sighed, flopping back on his bed. Whatever. Five more minutes of a nap couldn't hurt...