Chapter Text
“You haven’t told him everything yet, have you?”
Isaac still didn’t know what to make of Derek’s recently resurrected uncle. He and Derek seemed to share a knowing glance. “What do you mean?” Isaac asked.
“Why do you think Derek was in such a hurry to build his pack? So eager to strengthen his power and his number? When there’s a new alpha, people take notice.”
“People like who?” Isaac turned to step closer to the strange new symbol on the derelict manor. “What is this? What does this mean?”
“It’s their symbol,” Derek said, “and it means they’re coming.”
“Who?”
“Alphas.”
“More than one?”
“A pack of ‘em.”
“An alpha pack,” Peter corrected, “and they’re not coming—they’re already here.”
Isaac reached to touch the mark on the door. Some strange magic must have burned or etched it deep into the wood. What was it with werewolves and symbols? Isaac supposed that every pack must’ve had an insignia of some kind.
“Shouldn’t Scott know about this?”
“No,” Derek replied emphatically. “He’s been through enough these past few weeks. He needs time—time to be a teenager again.”
Isaac suppressed a chuckle. “What about me?”
Derek gave him a stoic look. “You should probably use the time to take care of a few things you’ve been neglecting.”
Despite Derek’s cold exterior, Isaac couldn’t help but be a little touched. That was probably the closest Derek had ever gotten to expressing concern for Isaac since they’d met.
“Don’t you think you could use a little help?”
“Oh, he has help,” Peter said. “Don’t forget—I’m not a ghost anymore.”
As his brow furrowed, Derek seemed to seethe. “This is my problem, Isaac. I’ll deal with it.”
“What about Erica and Boyd? Could they have run into this pack?”
Derek shook his head. “I doubt it. They should’ve learned their lesson by now.”
“Lesson? What lesson?”
“About trying to be omegas together in the wild,” Peter said, “which didn’t work out too well for them the first time.” When Isaac glared at him, he went on, “But, I’m sure they’re long gone by now. Or dead. Dead, most likely.”
“We’re just gonna give up on them?” Isaac exclaimed.
“Take a break, Isaac,” Derek said. “Don’t forget that you still have a life outside of all this.”
Isaac couldn’t tell if that was a potshot at him or not. Regardless, it was the truth, and the truth hurt.
He really didn’t have much of a life outside of all this anymore.
***
Isaac decided to check on Scott first. They’d been through a lot together in such a short amount of time, and though he liked to think that such circumstances usually brought people closer together, Isaac wasn’t exactly sure where he stood with Scott. He really wanted to call Scott a friend, but, most of their time together had been sandwiched between life and death.
As the McCall house came into view, Isaac noticed a few lights on though the driveway was empty. Since it was a Thursday night and still relatively early in the evening, he figured Scott would be home. Rather than just knocking on the door, though, Isaac felt an urge to exercise, so he climbed the side of the house to greet Scott at his window. It seemed like a friendly gesture and Scott’s reaction would probably be a good litmus test for where they stood.
Isaac expected Scott to be doing his homework—what he did not expect was to see Scott lying facedown on his bed sobbing into his pillow.
Even though nobody was home, it seemed like Scott was still trying to keep to himself, to contain his sobs, to stop the tears from flowing. Isaac did not expect the tiles beneath him to feel as if they were shifting—he did not expect to feel his heart breaking for Scott.
There could only be one person who could have done that to him. Perhaps it was too much to hope for that the collateral damage from her reign of terror would end with Gerard’s fall.
Isaac crept down back to the ground as quietly as he could. Though he was tempted to let Scott be, he couldn’t bear to let him wallow in his misery. Not Scott. That was something that Isaac himself might’ve wanted, but not Scott. He deserved better.
After walking to the front door, Isaac took a moment to steel his resolve before ringing the doorbell. He wasn’t sure if Scott would actually answer the door, so he tried to listen for any signs of movement. It took a moment, but after what seemed to be a reluctant thud, Isaac could hear footsteps descend the staircase.
The door unlocked, then opened.
“Isaac?”
Scott’s eyes were red and he’d barely rubbed away any tears. Isaac tried his best to feign surprise. “Scott? Are you all right?”
Scott sniffed and started rubbing his eyes more thoroughly. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I thought you were Stiles.”
For some reason, the remark stung way more than it should have. “Is now a bad time? I—I should probably go.”
Scott opened the door wider. “No, no, don’t go! What’s up?”
Derek’s words echoed in the back of Isaac’s mind. “Nothing—nothing, really. I just felt like… I thought I would just stop by. Are you sure you’re all right, Scott?”
Scott sniffed again and seemed to shrug to himself, as if to resign himself to the inevitable. “Allison broke up with me. Again.”
Isaac swallowed. “I’m sorry. Was it—because of what all happened?”
Scott looked towards the ground for a moment. “Yeah, pretty much. I mean, I knew it was coming. It made sense. I guess I just didn’t…I didn’t expect it to still hurt so much this time.”
Isaac took a deep breath. He just couldn’t stand to see him like this. He stepped towards Scott and grasped his shoulder. Squeezing, he tried to draw Scott’s pain out of his skin. Nothing happened.
Scott did grin, however. “Isaac, I—don’t think it works like that. Not with this, anyway.”
He withdrew his hand. “Sorry, I…” Isaac lost his train of thought. He had his arms open. What the hell, why not? He embraced Scott and brought him close. To his surprise, Isaac felt Scott embrace him back after just a slight pause.
“I’m sorry, Scott,” Isaac repeated.
Scott sniffed. “You’re gonna make me start crying again!” he uttered into Isaac’s shirt.
When Isaac pulled back, Scott was smiling, though. “Thanks,” he said.
“Don’t mention it.” Maybe hugs could be just as effective as supernatural sympathy. “I’m, I’m here for you, you know, if you ever need anything. Or, if, you know, you just wanna hang out. I’m here.”
Scott nodded. “Yeah, definitely. I’ll call you.”
Isaac left the McCall house with a bittersweet sensation in his chest. Of course he was still reeling from seeing Scott so heartbroken, but he was happy that he seemed to be able to make him feel somewhat better. He was also excited that Scott seemed to respond favorably to his offer to hang out, but as he walked, Isaac began to wonder if perhaps Scott was just being polite. He was pretty sure Scott didn’t have his number; he didn’t even know how much longer he would have a phone, anyway.
What the hell? Why was he acting like he was trying to ask Scott out on a date?
Perhaps a part of him was.
Isaac shook his head and cleared his throat. “No,” he said to himself.
He knew he had two more stops to make, both equally unpleasant. It wasn’t that late, and he really didn’t have any more excuses to put them off any longer.
***
For as long as he worked at the cemetery, the funeral home still creeped him out. He found himself hesitating on the front steps of the large brick building that looked as if it had been built last century. Early last century. A part of him hoped that he was too late, that he wouldn’t have to deal with this after all. He exhaled deeply, then stepped inside.
He passed through the foyer and entered the lobby. The receptionist was an elderly woman he didn’t recognize. She looked up and smiled at him warmly. “How may I help you?”
Isaac cleared his throat as he stopped before the desk. “I’m here to claim ashes. Lahey.”
The receptionist turned to her computer and did some typing. “I’m not too late, am I?” Isaac blurted.
“Oh, no, sweetheart. We don’t discard ashes here.”
Of course. Isaac didn’t know he could feel relieved and disappointed at the same time. After another moment of searching, the receptionist stood and informed him that she’d return shortly. She stepped through a side door and after it clicked shut behind her, Isaac waited.
As Derek’s words resurfaced in his mind, Isaac couldn’t help thinking about something he’d tried to push away ever since Matt’s death—that he was partially to blame for everything that happened with Matt, that he shared the blame for all those deaths. He realized it then when Scott told him everything that had happened that night at the police station. Isaac had denied remembering that day at the pool, but it was a lie. He was too ashamed to admit the truth, and it was a day that still haunted him.
The door opened, and the receptionist returned with a sizable box in hand. After setting it on the counter, she presented Isaac with a sheet to sign.
“Thank you,” Isaac said, taking the box.
“God bless.”
As Isaac left the funeral home, he felt a strange sensation in his stomach as he held onto the box, the box that contained his father’s remains. He intended to go straight to his house right after picking up the ashes, but after a block or two, he couldn’t take it anymore. Setting the box down right on the sidewalk, Isaac dropped to his knees and began to sob uncontrollably.
***
Isaac knew what it was. At least, the logical part of him understood. As he stood before the grimy leaf-covered pool, the site of that fateful day just a few years ago, Isaac began to understand many terrible things all at once.
It was a mistake to skip his father’s service. It was a mistake not to mourn his passing. Regardless of what had happened, no matter how badly their relationship had deteriorated, it was a his duty as a son to pay his respects to his father.
Isaac cried out, kicking a stray branch into the pool. The ripples barely made it around all the debris in the pool. Why did his father have to do this to him? Why did he have to make it all so very, very difficult?
Isaac liked Matt when they were in elementary school. He seemed shy like Isaac himself, and Isaac found it easier to reach out to shy kids. They just understood, and when he and Matt discovered a shared interest in comics, that was all they needed to start hanging out.
One of Camden’s favorite pastimes with Isaac was to toss him in the pool whenever they got into a fight. Naturally, as he was so much bigger than Isaac, there was little to stop him once the idea got into his head. Isaac loved it, though, as much as he squirmed and feigned screaming bloody murder in Cam’s arms as he lugged him towards the pool. Mom had disapproved, but most every time, Cam would jump in right after tossing him in.
That was the part that Matt didn’t understand. Cam wasn’t trying to hurt Matt—he was just trying to bring him into the fun.
His father’s reaction to Matt’s near drowning made a terrible misunderstanding worse. As much as he had tried to deny it, Isaac realized that his father’s mania had started much earlier than he wanted to admit. The way his father came down on Matt, the way he berated him, blaming him—Isaac remembered catching Cam’s eyes and seeing the awful guilt weighing on his face. No doubt his brother felt ashamed for what he’d done.
Their father told them to stay away from Matt. Being so young, Isaac obeyed. Maybe his father had panicked, and he didn’t want to own up to his mistake, but whatever the reason, Isaac was at fault for letting Matt slip away. He should’ve reached out to him, to continue to try to be his friend. Maybe then he could’ve preventing Matt from snapping, from descending into psychopathy.
As Isaac knelt by the pool, he hovered between rage and despair. He wanted to be angry at his father, but he knew the blame could not be solely pinned on his father. Being angry was easier than hurting, and Isaac didn’t want to cry anymore.
He’d only stepped inside briefly to set the box down on the kitchen table. Miraculously, the spare key was still just behind the gap at the bottom of the garage door. He hadn’t really braced himself for reentering the house—he had not been back since that night he had fled on bike from his father, the night he was killed—and he’d been taken aback by how stale and dank the house smelled.
A sadistic idea came to him, causing him to spring to his feet and trot back into the house. Isaac realized the perfect spot for his father’s remains to stay in the meantime. After snatching the box and bolting for the stairs, he never thought he’d ever be in such a rush to go downstairs.
Isaac was not prepared for what he saw. Nearly dropping the box in his hands, he set it on the floor before examining the remains of the cooler that had tortured him for so long.
It looked as if it had simply—exploded. The sides were scattered across the cellar and the lock—the lock was intact, but the hinges it had secured had broken off the cooler. A broken chain lay coiled around the base. What could’ve possibly happened here?
“You haven’t been back here at all, have you?”
Isaac jumped, crying out in surprise as he spun around. As Derek emerged from the shadows, he looked at Isaac with mild amusement.
“What the hell, Derek?” Isaac exclaimed.
“Seriously? What have I always told you about your senses? They never shut off, but our minds do. Pay attention!”
“Fine, I’m a terrible werewolf. What are you doing here?”
“Making sure you weren’t running away from your problems.”
Isaac scoffed. “Isn’t that why you turned me in the first place?”
“No. I did it to help us both, to level the playing field. You’ll never be a better wolf if you don’t overcome the things that motivated you to accept the bite to begin with.”
“So are you saying that you’re here to make sure I don’t run away from you?”
Derek gave him that look that he was all-too familiar with. That look that he gave when the subject at hand verged on something emotional or uncomfortable. The look that said, “Please don’t make me talk about my feelings.” Not in the mood to pry things out of his alpha, Isaac turned back to the remnants of the cooler.
“What happened here?”
“Scott used this to try to contain himself during the full moon. I showed him this place. I tried to get him to help me when you were taken into police custody. Time just wasn’t on our side.”
Isaac swallowed. The awful feeling was returning to his stomach. “He thought I killed my father?”
“No, he believed you were innocent. Like I said, time just wasn’t on our side.”
Well, he and Scott really didn’t hit it off at first, so Isaac managed to quell the distress boiling in his stomach. “So, Scott still didn’t have control during the full moon, and he tried to use this to trap himself. Doesn’t look like it worked.”
“I disagree. Scott learned exactly what he needed to that night when he had Allison lock him inside that cooler—the same thing that you learned that night when I tried to chain you and Erica and Boyd up in the train yard. Not only did he find his anchor, he learned to embrace his wolf, not suppress it.”
His anchor—Allison. Without her, now, what would happen to Scott? Still, there seemed to be something awfully poetic about Scott destroying something that had been such an instrument of torture for Isaac.
“As much as you might want to, you shouldn’t abandon this place,” Derek went on. “Is it yours?”
Isaac thought for a moment. “I guess it is. It’s paid off; there’s no mortgage.”
“Then you should do something about it. Clean it up, rent it out, or something. A house is one of the most valuable things you can invest in.”
It was Isaac’s turn to give Derek a look, a look that said, “Who are you, and what have you done with Derek Hale?”
“Look, when my house burned down, and most of my family with it, I didn’t return to it for months. When I finally did, it was like it happened yesterday. No amount of time is gonna be enough to dull that kind of pain. I guess I still return to it because—it’s the only home I’ve ever had.”
Isaac’s circumstances were nowhere near as bleak as Derek’s. “So I guess you’re telling me to suck it up?”
“I’m telling you to clean house—literally and figuratively.
When Derek left, Isaac did as he was told. He dug through the fridge, bagged up all the rotten and spoiled food, took out the garbage, and did a load of laundry to try to freshen the place up.
Isaac remembered the letter that had been delivered to him at school. It had been right around when Derek was trying to determine if Lydia was the kanima. The letter was from some lawyer about his father’s assets, and it was still buried somewhere in his locker. He’d only skimmed over it, but the gist that he’d understood from it was that he’d be entitled to his father’s savings when he turned eighteen and that the money burdens of the property would automatically be paid from those savings by the bank.
There was no one to look after the property, of course. That was up to Isaac. Though the smell improved once the house was clean and he was able to shower and get into a set of clothes he hadn’t worn in a while, the uneasiness in his stomach persisted. Even after washing his sheets, it felt strange to get back into a bed he hadn’t slept in for so long—a bed he spent so many nights afraid in.
And of course, the result was nightmares. After waiting so long to finally fall sleep, Isaac awoke soaked in sweat, shaking from an unspeakable terror.
He ran downstairs, put on shoes, and shut the door behind him. No way he could stay here. No way. With the night air still and quiet, Isaac ran at full speed towards the abandoned railroad depot. He expected Derek to be asleep so that he could simply slip in and collapse, but that wasn’t the case. He and Peter were up and leaning over some kind of map on a table.
“Isaac?”
Exhausted and out of breath, he practically collapsed before Derek. “I can’t—I can’t stay there, Derek. Please…”
“And here is better than there?”
“No,” Isaac coughed, shaking his head, “but I can’t… Please, can we find another place? Just somewhere else—better?”
“He has a point,” Peter interjected. “The amenities of this place leave something to be desired.”
Derek offered a hand and helped Isaac to his feet. “Go rest. I’ll work something out.”
When Isaac hit his makeshift cot, he was out in seconds. At least for one night, the nightmares didn’t follow him.
***
After a few weeks passed, Isaac began to contemplate getting rid of his phone. His own savings were meager and the phone was not doing much to contribute to his social life.
Scott hadn’t called. Finals approached, school ended, and Isaac learned through the grapevine that Jackson was moving to London and Allison was spending the summer in France. The trail for Boyd and Erica which had already been cold became practically frozen and the alleged alpha pack Derek and Peter mentioned remained in hiding. Whatever they were planning, these alphas were taking their sweet time to do it.
Isaac remained convinced that Boyd and Erica’s disappearance were linked to the alphas, but Derek remained skeptical, and it frustrated Isaac immensely. He seemed more interested in tracking the alphas, which was probably Peter’s doing, and Isaac could find no evidence to back up his gut.
On the bright side, Peter was looking at places for them to stay. Derek seemed open to visiting them, but he’d turned down every place Peter had found so far. So, they remained at the abandoned railroad yard, and Isaac spent much of his time either listening to Peter and Derek bicker, or serving as a punching bag for Peter during their alleged training sessions.
Isaac got into a habit of visiting his house. He would eat there, change clothes, and try to take care of the yard, but he wouldn’t sleep there. The fear of the state coming to take him away lingered in the back of his mind every time he entered the house, but so far, it remained a threat that had yet to manifest. Maybe Stiles’ dad had a hand in it—with a good word in from Scott.
Wishful thinking. As Isaac sat at the dining room table eating a sandwich, he was started by a noise that he hadn’t heard in weeks—his phone ringing.
As the piercing ring filled the house, Isaac couldn’t remember where he’d put it. Shit. He checked back by the door, but it wasn’t in his bag. God, he was a terrible werewolf. He couldn’t pinpoint where the sound was coming from, even with his advanced hearing. It was just coming from somewhere on the main level.
He dashed to the living room, back to the kitchen, and then—ah hah—the bathroom. How did it end up there? Isaac pushed the question from his mind as he answered the phone.
“Hello?”
“Isaac! I’m so glad this number still works. I was afraid it’d become disconnected.”
“Stiles?”
“The one and only.”
“What’s up?” Isaac could not remember when he’d given Stiles his number, but he was glad Stiles had it.
“Not much. Listen, I could use your help with something—some tag-teaming, if you will.”
Despite himself, Isaac was curious. “What do you mean?”
“Listen, I’m sure you probably heard about Scott and Allison, and although he won’t admit it, Scott’s been in a real funk lately. Are you sitting down right now?”
Isaac lowered the toilet seat and sat. “Yeah.”
“Good, because you won’t believe what he’s doing these days—are you ready for it? He’s in summer school. Summer school!”
“Summer school.”
“Right, summer school. Voluntarily! It’s not like his mom is making him. And he’s saving up for a motorcycle. A motorcycle!”
“That…that doesn’t sound all that terrible.”
“Are you kidding me? Scott has done nothing but devote himself to his studies and working and before you know it, the whole summer’s gonna go by and Scott’s gonna get on his motorcycle and split his head open and I’ll have gone the whole summer without getting to hang out with my best friend.”
Isaac could see his point. Maybe. “So…how can I help?”
“I’m so glad you asked. Obviously, my usual charms haven’t been up to par with getting Scott’s attention, so with your wolfly charisma, I’m sure the both of us can rescue Scott from his fate this summer.”
Isaac couldn’t help but get a little nervous at what Stiles seemed to be implying. Was he implying anything? “Sure—I’m game. Did you have a plan?”
“I do. Grab your lacrosse gear and meet me at Scott’s house in twenty minutes. Can you do that?”
“Sure.”
“Great! See you then.”
As Isaac found himself smiling, he realized he was starting to like Stiles a lot. He retrieved his lacrosse gear like he was told and made his way towards Scott’s house. With a remarkable fluke of timing, Stiles’ jeep was pulling into the driveway just as Isaac was making his way up the sidewalk. Mrs. McCall’s car was there as well, so everyone must’ve been home.
Isaac met Stiles on the doorstep. Like Isaac, Stiles was also decked out in his lacrosse gear.
“All right, leave the talking to me,” Stiles said as he rang the doorbell.
“Since when do you use the doorbell?”
“Never. I’m trying to prove a point.”
When the door opened, Scott’s mom greeted them with a knowing smile. “Stiles, Isaac—hello.”
“Mrs. McCall,” Stiles began, standing up right and proper, “it’s good to see you. Is Scott home?”
Mrs. McCall simply laughed and stepped aside, waving them in. “Come on in, boys. He’s upstairs.”
That was all Stiles needed to spring into the house and bolt up the stairs. Surprised, Isaac trailed behind him at a much more courteous pace. He glanced back at Mrs. McCall as he went up the steps; she was still smiling.
“Scott! This is an emergency!”
Isaac entered the room to find Stiles standing before Scott, who was sitting at his desk and looking back at Stiles, confused. Books were all over the desk and two piles seemed to be stacked by the door—one significantly taller than the other. Read and unread books for English?
“What?” Scott asked, glancing at Isaac as he entered the room. “What emergency?”
“A lacrosse emergency.” Stiles grabbed Scott’s crosse from beside the window and tossed it to Scott. “Gear up and let’s head out.”
When Stiles grabbed Scott’s gym bag and left the room, Scott remained sitting at the desk. Isaac shrugged.
“You coming?”
Scott began to grin. After shutting his textbook, Scott led Isaac out of the room and grabbed his shoes before they all piled into Stiles’ jeep. Isaac sat in the back while Scott rode shotgun.
“Why do I feel like I’m being kidnapped?” Scott said.
“Dude, it’s not kidnapping if you come willingly!” Stiles replied jovially. “Come on, now.”
Stiles drove them straight to the lacrosse fields near school. After Scott put on his gear, they took turns playing goalie, and for Isaac, it was refreshing to be able to play the game without anything at stake: winning, championships—or lives.
Although Isaac held back whenever it was Stiles’ turn, Scott seemed more than willing to tease his best friend.
“I said no wolf powers!”
Scott would merely shrug. “I can’t help it!”
Isaac threw Stiles a bone every now and then, but Scott did not hold back for him, either. He seemed to be challenging Isaac—even through the goalie mask, he could see Scott egging him on. It took Isaac several tries, but after taking a moment to steady and focus himself, Isaac scored a goal that almost singed the net.
“Yeah!” Isaac cried out.
“Lucky shot!” Stiles said.
“Good job, Isaac,” Scott congratulated, lifting up his mask to smile at him. Isaac tried to smile back, but it felt kind of funny to do so.
They exhausted themselves after about two hours of practice. Sweating through their lacrosse gear, they packed up and Stiles took them to grab smoothies before dropping Scott off back at his house.
“So, where am I taking you?” Stiles asked as Isaac stepped into the front passenger seat.
Isaac thought for a moment. He initially considered having Stiles drop him off near the railroad yard, but decided against it. “Take me to my house.”
Stiles seemed surprised. “OK.”
Stiles managed to not make any comments during the short ride. Once they arrived, Stiles looked out at the house. “Wow.”
“What?”
“It looks—good. You’ve really cleaned the place up.”
Isaac shrugged. “A little.”
Stiles bounced his knees up and down. “I actually really gotta pee. Can I use your bathroom?”
“You can’t go in the yard like I do?”
“Does the bathroom not work?”
“I’m kidding. And yes, it does work.”
Isaac and Stiles hopped out of the jeep and Isaac let him inside the house. He gave him directions to the guest bathroom and set his stuff down by the door. After Isaac went to the kitchen to get a glass of water, Stiles entered the kitchen, waving his hands around in tiny circles as if he were casting a spell.
“So…how is this all—functioning?”
“You mean, who’s paying for it?”
“Yeah. I mean, you’re not still working at the graveyard, are you?”
Isaac shook his head. “My dad’s paying for it.” When Stiles gawked at him, he went on, “I think the bank, or his lawyer, set up some kind of automatic payments from the savings he had. Or insurance money. I don’t really know.”
“So, is the house is yours, then?”
“When I turn eighteen.”
“I take it you’re staying here?”
“No, not all the time.”
“Do you sleep here?” When Isaac shook his head, Stiles asked, “Why not?”
“I just can’t sleep here.”
Stiles nodded. Isaac greatly appreciated that he did not press the issue. “Well, I should probably head out.”
“Wait—can I ask you something?”
Stiles paused. “Sure.”
Isaac wasn’t sure why he blurted it out. He probably wouldn’t get another chance like this for a while.
“Why does Scott love Allison?”
Stiles scoffed. “You—you’re asking me? Why would you ask me? I may be his best friend and all, but there are certain things that evade even me about the inner workings of one Scott McCall.”
“Yeah, but, she tried to kill him. Hell, her whole family tried to kill him.”
“Well, short of actually killing him, I don’t think there’s a way she could get him to stop liking her.”
“That’s insane.”
“That’s love. Hell, the girl I like has ignored me for most of my life, and that hasn’t stopped me, either. Have you ever been in love?”
Isaac thought for a moment. “No.” Maybe.
“Well, it’s one of those things you don’t really get until it happens to you. Sometimes, it just does—it just happens. I mean, how do you explain why someone just doesn’t like broccoli and prefers mac and cheese over spaghetti, or just likes the color blue best—yes, I’m hungry—but that stuff, sometimes it’s just innate. Involuntary, really.”
Stiles started looking at Isaac in a peculiar way, as if he was just starting to figure something out. Isaac didn’t like it.
Stiles approached him as a grin transformed his expression. “Isaac—do you like Scott?”
Isaac scoffed. “What? No! He’s just—” He caught himself, but forced it out regardless of whether Scott really thought it true or not. “a friend.”
“Isaac,” Stiles repeated, “do you like Scott?”
“No!” he insisted, forcing a laugh. “Don’t be crazy.”
“All right, all right,” Stiles said, still smiling. He turned and started to leave.
“Stiles.” The more he tried to suppress it, the warmer his face seemed to get.
Stiles looked back. “Yeah?”
“Don’t tell Scott.”
Stiles tempered his expression. “I won’t. I won’t tell anyone, for that matter.” He started to leave, but stopped again right outside the kitchen. “For what it’s worth, Scott would be totally cool with it. That, I know for a fact.”
Isaac leaned against the kitchen counter, suddenly deflated. He trusted Stiles, but the whole situation just reminded him of the last time he saw his brother—the last time he seriously considered his sexuality.
Cam was standing at the counter making himself a sandwich. Isaac entered the kitchen. They had the house to themselves. Cam was redeploying tomorrow, so there was no more time to wait.
“Cam? Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, Izzy,” he said, spreading mayonnaise on his sandwich. “Whatcha got?”
Cam was the only one who ever called him Izzy. “When did you start liking girls?”
His brother laughed. “I’ve always liked girls. How do you mean, exactly?”
Isaac plopped himself at the table. “I think there’s something wrong with me.”
Cam set the mayonnaise down and sat at the table next to Isaac. The back of his neck burned as he felt his older brother looking at him.
“What’s wrong?”
“So, you didn’t just up and start liking girls one day?” Isaac blurted. He was starting to panic.
“Well, it’s—it’s different for everybody. You just hit your growth spurt. Give it some time.”
Isaac shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever liked girls.” Isaac swallowed. “I think I like guys.”
Cam exhaled. “That’s OK.”
“Really?” Isaac said, surprised.
“Yeah, really!” Cam repeated, nodding. “You like what you like.”
“I—I’m not sure, though.”
“It’s OK. You have time to figure this stuff out. You might like girls, you might like guys; hell, you might like both. Don’t sweat it.”
“Do you think Mom and Dad would have a problem?”
Cam took a deep breath. “Tell you what: take some time to think about this—really think about it, and when I get back, we’ll tell Mom and Dad together—whatever you find out.”
Their father was really the parent at issue—it was an unspoken understanding between them.
Of course, Cam never came back.
Isaac found himself crying. Somehow, tears just began streaming down his cheeks as a gnawing emptiness ground itself into his core. Derek was wrong. Isaac couldn’t imagine himself staying here for long.
There was just too much hurt here.
***
In the weeks that followed, Stiles seemed to make it his mission to make sure Isaac was involved whenever he hung out with Scott. Isaac had mixed feelings about it; on one hand, he knew what Stiles was doing, but on the other, he’d much rather spend time with Scott than with Derek. Stiles proved to be a useful buffer between them in preventing any awkwardness.
Scott never questioned why Isaac was there, however. He seemed to accept Isaac’s presence as he did Stiles’, and for that, Isaac was grateful.
Though Derek insisted that he was tracking the alpha pack, he seemed no closer to finding them than he had been a few months ago. He would go with Derek through the woods and the preserve to practice his tracking, but nothing would turn up. Isaac never fared any better when he went by himself—until one day, like most great discoveries, he found something through sheer luck.
A glint caught his eye as he trekked through the woods. He lost it momentarily, but after careful backtracking, he was able to find the source of the glint beneath the dirt and leaves.
A ring. One of Erica’s rings.
He picked it up and held it between his fingers, examining it. The dirt encrusted throughout the cheap plastic suggested it’d been out there for a long time. Isaac remembered when Erica first got it—it was one of many flashy, if not tacky, accessories she had tried out to complement her transformation. Isaac had crossed this terrain before, so he had definitely missed this the first time around.
A sound jolted him from his concentration. It was distant, and though he couldn’t tell where it was coming from, a spicy scent confirmed his suspicions—there was someone else nearby.
Panicking, Isaac leapt up one of the trees to hide. It was his first thought, and though better ideas came to him as he climbed, he tried to convince himself that people rarely looked up.
Giggling. It wasn’t just one someone, but two someones. From his vantage point, Isaac spotted in the distance a pair heading towards a tree—a man and a woman. The man was large and looked quite formidable, though at the moment he was being pushed against a tree by the more slender woman.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” the man said.
“We have a few moments to spare,” the woman countered.
They started to kiss and embraced each other passionately. The man seemed like a typical muscle meathead while the woman had a lithe, sinuous form. The woman had long, black hair down past her shoulders, which stood in stark contrast to the man’s buzz cut. They seemed like a normal couple until Isaac caught a glimpse of claws growing from the woman’s fingers.
They were werewolves.
“Seems like no matter where I go, high school follows me everywhere.”
Isaac was just as startled as the couple when the third woman appeared. Was it—it couldn’t be…could it?
Ms. Morrell? His guidance counselor?
“Frolicking in the woods like teenagers,” she chided. “Is this the sort of behavior I should expect from you two?”
As the couple glared at her, Ms. Morrell appeared unfazed. The werewolf woman spoke—her eyes flashing red, “We’re entitled to a moment for ourselves.”
“Not when we have work to do.”
When Ms. Morrell set off, the couple followed her. As they moved further from Isaac’s position, Isaac found himself being swallowed by a paralyzing fear. This was the break he’d been waiting for. This had to be the alpha pack. Could he follow them without being caught? Should he go back and tell Derek what he’d found?
As Isaac descended the tree, he recalled Derek’s stubbornness and steeled himself for the danger ahead. He couldn’t wait any longer. There was no time.
He was Boyd and Erica’s only hope.