There are a few things to bear in mind before starting this story. This is only 3A of season 3 of Teen Wolf. There will be no Kira or death of Allison or Aiden. Also, it's AU so, there are other things add-ins onto the plot line as well as changes to the 3A plotline. I do hope those of you who read this enjoy it, but I am warning you that it's got a lot of add-ins.

Warning yoou now, there is violence and other mature themes hence the rating. Read the rating and you'll understand the heaviness of the story.

I don't own Teen Wolf either.

Chapter 1

It was all figured out. She didn't know how, but it was. It always was for as long as she could remember. She could take care of herself, but there was never a doubt that when she got way in over there head, somebody would be there.

She got off the bus, her cell phone to her ear waiting for an answer. For the second time she only got the voicemail. She watched the streetlamp at the end of the block flicker adding to her discomfort.

"I'm in Beacon Hills. You told me to call when I got here. What do you want me to say when I start tomorrow? 'Hey, I was told to find you for my protection.' which by the way, I can take care of myself and also, what the hell is a Stiles? You know what? Nevermind. I'm done ranting. It's completely pointless to try to get information out of you. You're just going to delete this message and not call me back like the last hundred times I called and I don't want to get started on the letters again."

She hung up, ending her rant before it got too far out of hand and sighed. The bus pulled away from the curb, leaving exhaust in its wake. She puckered her nose, waving the smoke out of her face as she choked on the expanding fume cloud.

"Beacon Hills, joy," she mumbled flatly, her lips pursed together. How was it a good idea to be here? She didn't know.

Looking around one more time, she noted how bare the streets were. The air was still, holding no sound. If it wasn't for her slow breathing, she would've wondered if she'd gone deaf it was so quiet. Picking up her worn duffle bag, she made her way down the street, holding her breath between each streetlight. The dark wasn't the friendliest place. Things lurked there, things that were both human and not human.

The walk to her new home was spent in an extreme alertness that only a bath could soothe and that's exactly what she climbed into upon getting to the crumbling, bare house. She dropped her bag beside the dusty, dark blue couch and kicked off her flip-flops before trudging up to the second floor. Deep red carpeting formed around her feet and between her toes as she walked toward the stairs and again when she's reached the top of the stairs and went down to the end of the hall where the bathroom was. Two bedrooms faced each other before it. The color reminded her of roses. She hated roses. How could such a beautiful thing be so violent?

She rubbed the pinching in the back of her neck from having to look around so much at the slightest thought of having seen something move in the corner of her eye on her way here.

The bathroom wasn't too small. She was actually impressed with its size; a good six feet across. Motels weren't especially known for their spacious bathrooms so this was a good sign. Not being stuck in a motel was a good sign though this place could compete. A tub sat in the middle of the room, the legs on it looking like metal paws of an animal. Sitting on the curved edge, she turned the dull knob downward. The spigot churned grossly, spitting out a little dust and mud of dirt and grass blades, before water rushed out. She let it run for a little while before putting the plastic bobber in the drain.

After shedding three layers of clothing: a hoodie, t-shirt, sweater and tank top (okay four layers) then her ripped jeans, she climbed into the steaming water, fully submerging herself. Even now, she didn't feel safe, but that was her whole life. There was no real reason to think she'd be here for very long. If San Diego and L.A didn't stick, why would this place? Because that's what she was told? Bullshit.

Coming up for air, she wiped the coat of water from her face, sucking in some of it through her mouth and nose. Her jaw still ached a little. The bruising was gone, thank goodness.

An hour later, she was dressed and bringing her bag up to her new room diagonal to the bathroom. Not bothering to unpack, she fell onto the bare mattress, curled up, and fell asleep instantly. Tomorrow was going to be a very long day. The first day of school, again.

Opening her eyes, she pulled her phone from her pocket. 7:45am.

"Shit!" she exclaimed, snapping out of her groggy state quickly and jumping off of the bed. Not bothering to change out of her clothes from last night, she ran down the stairs, braiding her hair off to one side to hide its messiness.

By 8:20am she had made it through the front doors of Beacon Hills High, her chest ached with every intake of breath. The halls were bare except for a few scattered homework assignments on the floor. Finding the office, she inched into it and gave the lady at the front desk a nervous smile. When she didn't smile back the smile faded.

"I'm-" Melanie started.

"I know. You're late." Each word was pronounced with reprimand almost making her roll her eyes. "You missed first period, but you're just in time to catch second in ten minutes."

The disappointed secretary slid a sheet of paper with textbooks underneath over the counter. Picking them up, Melanie made her way out of the office huffing, and went to find her locker wondering how strict this school actually was. No matter what, it didn't compare to the last school, but still, this was a public school.

After finding her locker, she shoved all of the books into it then made her way to the second class on the schedule. None of them would get used anyway, not if she was just going to leave again.

The bell rang and she watched as everyone knew where they were going, chatting with their friends – some talking about lunch; others talking about sports. She glanced up and down the hall, walking slowly, looking at the doors until she found the right room, AP Chemistry. Joy.

It wasn't that she couldn't do Chemistry. It was easy, just like Algebra, but this meant that there'd be lab partners. That meant talking to people. If she could avoid people she normally would. Plus, the last person she was partners with tried to spill acid on her. That was a fun time.

She walked in and noticed that everyone was paired up except for a few people near the back. She kept her head down as the room quieted a little from her presence. This was one of those schools, the school where everybody knew everybody's face. That meant stares at her. So much for fitting into the background, she thought.

She walked to the back, keeping her head low, and sat across from a broad shouldered boy, his hair cut short. He had his sleeves rolled up. He looked up from his book.

"My best friend sits there," he said instantly, but then quickly as if in the midst of a thought, added, "but he moved out of the country, so go ahead."

He sounded genuinely nice about it, but not so thrilled about his best friend. Don't expect me to be your friend, she thought, nobody needs to be my friend. He looked back down at his book.

"Class, we have a new student, Melanie Rouxe," the teacher announced, Mr. Harris it said on her schedule. He sounded like a serious douchebag. "Do you want to introduce yourself?"

"No, not really," she replied, shaking her head just a smidge, receiving multiple curious stares. She pulled her hood up over her head wanting to hide from all of them.

"Good." He was blunt. "Where's your textbook or even a pencil?"

"In my locker."

"Why don't you have them?"

Melanie stared up at him, matching his bored look that perched behind his glasses.

"I'm not going to be here long enough to use them," she replied.

"Bring the book anyway. Who knows, you could actually get stuck here," he said then mumbled something else like 'just like me'.

"Whatever," she mumbled, laying her head down.

The guy in front of her stared, his eyebrow quirked, then opened his textbook. Two others stared at her from the table ahead of her. She ignored it and stared out the window behind her new partner at the tree line, everything Mr. Harris said getting lost in translation.

"I'm Danny," her lab partner said at the end of class.

She nodded awkwardly and walked out of the classroom. By lunchtime she had been completely forgotten. Happily, she sat at the back of the cafeteria, not hungry. Appetite had gotten lost along the long journey while other concerns had become more important than eating.

"You really should eat. People will start to say you're anorexic and that is not a good way to start out here," Danny said, sitting across from her, setting his tray down and then his bag beside him.

She sat up from her slump quickly, watching his every movement without a word, like a deer observing the movement of other creatures, cautious.

"I don't care,"

"Okay, well, I'm just going to sit here. You can go back to whatever you were doing," he said, biting into the apple he picked up at the corner of his tray.

Scratching the back of her neck, she did just that which was staring out the window cautiously.

"Hey Danny,"

Melanie jumped and watched as five other people sat around her. She gulped uneasily, staring at the one who sat on the other side of the one who'd greeted Danny. It was clear as day. He stuck out the most.

"How do you like it so far?"

The question was directed at her. She turned her direction to his friend who asked, smiling goofily. Melanie didn't reply. Her eyebrows furrowed, not angrily, but puzzled by their seemingly good will. Glancing at her hands, fidgeting restlessly with her cuticles, she placed them in her lap.

"She doesn't talk much," Danny said.

"Well, I'm Stiles, this is Scott," he pointed out the rest: Allison, Lydia, and Isaac. She narrowed her eyes at the last one, her palms sweating, but quickly focused back on Scott and Stiles as Isaac started talking to Allison who tucked her hair behind her ear. The classic tell of a crush.

She was told to talk to these two anyway, not concern herself with the others. There was a clear difference between the two. Scott was more aware than Stiles who was simply oblivious. He had that aura she had been trained to see, not an actual one, but like it was something in the air that stuck out and made him different from everybody else. Isaac was the same. It was the reactions they both had to their surroundings. She knew the signs. She was taught all of them which were small enough that normal people wouldn't be able to tell right away.

They were both werewolves, except for Stiles who was just stupid. Why was he important exactly?

"It's okay here. I, uh, went to school back in Paris. Private school," she said, glancing up a little bit every few seconds.

"Why'd you come here?" Lydia, the redhead who primped herself in her little compact mirror, said. She glanced over it at the table two rows down where there sat a set of twins, both clad in leather jackets. "I want one," she said next , closing the compact and propping her chin up on her hand. Her thumb rubbed along her chin pensively. She forgot all about the previous question.

"Which one?" Allison asked, peering at them now.

"The straight one, of course," Lydia said sarcastically.

Melanie sighed and looked back out the window. This was where she was told to be, but she didn't have any particular feelings about it. There wasn't enough information to really feel anything except slight unwelcome where Mr. Harris was concerned.

"Why did you leave?"

This was Danny who asked, going back to her private school comment. She looked at him, opening her mouth to reply and paused.

"It's complicated. Family, I guess," she replied carefully. It wasn't a complete lie, not really.

"You have family here? Nice."

"Yeah, sure," she muttered distracted, glancing around the room, partly at the twins and partly out the windows.

The rest of the day went more or less better. Most of the teachers except Ms. Blake who seemed to give up too easily after attempting to coerce her into talking, and one by the name of Finstock whose hair stood up in the fashion of an aging pop star, asked her why she didn't bring books or anything to class. She repeated what she'd been saying all day. He just said,

"Good for you," as if it was some rebellious thing and he liked that. She ignored the multiple whistle blows throughout the class. He mostly yelled at some guy named Greenberg. Poor guy, whoever he was.

After class, he stopped her. Stiles, who sat two seats ahead of her paused for a split second, not for her benefit, but to hear the conversation. He wondered if Finstock was going to go postal on her. He watched in anticipation.

"Go to class Stilinski!" Finstock roared then blew his whistle at the teen.

"I'm waiting on-" he tried, pointing towards Melanie.

"Go! She's not interested in you! I don't even think she plays for the guy's team." Finstock blew his whistle at him receiving a mortified look in return which only made him blow the whistle more until he left the classroom.

Melanie smirked. She liked this guy. No time for idiots which sadly, he was surrounded by. She wanted to inform him that she was definitely straight, but held her tongue instead letting him have his moment of gratification in yelling at Stiles.

He turned back to Melanie, shifting his position slightly as he leaned back against his desk.

"So you really think you're not staying around here?"

"Yeah, I'm just passing through."

"And your parents, who must be moronic, know this?"

He sounded genuinely concerned though he said something that should've been offensive. Couldn't he just yell or something like he did at Stiles? He seemed to enjoy yelling. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm emancipated," she replied.

"Even so, you still have to go to school," he retorted.

"I get that. It doesn't mean I have to go here."

He stared at her long and hard, the vein on his forehead pulsing. She had received this look before; the one where people were trying to understand her, solve her and know the endgame. There was nothing to study in her. She'd disappeared before people could figure out her favorite color or favorite band. Melanie turned and walked out of the classroom past Isaac who stood outside.

"You're sneakier than Stiles," she commented, walking to her last class of the day. He walked alongside her. "Why are you following me?"

"Honestly?" he asked, cringing a little.

"Sure," she sighed.

"Stiles has a conspiracy theory that you're here under some weird ninja orders or something." he lied. He didn't want to ask about some stupid theory. There was no theory. After lunch, he'd noticed how rigid and stand-offish she was in history, slumping down in her seat, looking out the window constantly as if something was out there. What person would feel so alert and sure that they weren't sticking around? The kind that was in danger.

She smirked. Her attire wasn't exactly ninja worthy.

"Wow, you nearly smiled."

"Nearly," she agreed.

He chuckled lightly, shifting his math book from one hand to the other.

"Even if you are on some ninja mission, not that I'm saying you are one, but it's plausible since you're all hyperaware, you should relax. You never know what'll happen tomorrow."

She listened, observing how tall he was. It was intimidating even though he seemed so laid back because in a split second he could change from this to a powerful creature capable of creating pain and death, protection and security, comfort and misery.

"Right," she said, not really agreeing or disagreeing. She stuffed her hands in her hoodie pocket just below her stomach, looking down the hall at the exit. It would be so easy to just walk out right now unlike her last school. The doors weren't locked and she could catch a glimpse through the vertical sliver window at the parking lot.

"See you later," he said before ducking into a classroom. Something in the way he said it made her believe him.

Lucky for her, Danny was in her last class. She sat close to the back, resting her hands on the desktop. Danny took a seat beside her then smiled light-heartedly at her as if determined to not make her feel like the new girl. He didn't talk much like Stiles. He caught onto the cues of silence unlike other people. Stiles, she meant Stiles.

"You want a ride home? The buses are crowded and ridiculously disgusting," Danny offered.

"Oh no, I'm fine. I walk."

"What? Around here?"

"Yeah…" she trailed off, uneasy about how alarmed he sounded by her answer. His eyes widened in distress.

"You really shouldn't walk. Beacon Hills isn't L.A., but you still shouldn't walk. There are animal attacks that go on around here."

She lost the argument and ended up letting him give her a ride. Checking her phone as soon as she got into his car, she frowned. Nothing. Not a single voicemail or text. What a dick.

"You okay?" Danny asked, starting the engine.

"Yeah," she replied, averting her eyes out the window. She looked down at her lap quickly and away from Scott who was watching them as they drove away, a white motorcycle helmet under one arm. He nodded aimlessly to whatever Stiles was telling him. Her hood and loose strands from her braid hid her face.

The next week was like this and still, there were no calls. Not hearing a single word was beginning to make her nervous. The last time she lost contact bad things happened. They were still happening, like one long nightmare.

"You still haven't done anything with the place." Danny said, looking around the living room. After dropping her off at her tiny abode he confessed needing a place to study. Trying as hard as she could to keep him out, he still made it through the front door. She couldn't get herself to be cruel or short to him like she could with Scott and the others. They made it easy by being too damn curious about her life, but Danny wasn't like that at all. He seemed to know what it was like to know somebody who didn't like to share a lot.

"Nope," she replied, her legs crossed as she sat on the couch. She'd beaten it half a dozen times, but it was still a dust magnet.

"Please get a TV," he said, leaning against the wall across from the couch. He'd been coming over daily after cross-country practice.

"Why?"

"Because you've been here for nearly two weeks. You need a TV."

"I'm fine," she said, tapping her pencil on the edge of her economic textbook.

"Fine…" He glowered.

She looked up, her face softening at the sight of his grumpy one.

"I don't want to get comfortable only to leave again, alright?"

"Why do you keep saying that, leave again? Why would you need to leave?"

"I told you-"

"Family things, yeah, but where are these family members? Where are your parents?"

"It's complicated. Accept it, don't accept it. I don't care, but that's it." She shrugged and continued writing down the recent homework problem.

Danny shook his head and glanced around some more. There were no pictures on the walls, a single table in the dining room with two worn and cracked chairs, the mothy couch. She didn't even change from her style of clothes that seemed to hide her away from the public. Holed jeans and a hoodie, her hair tucked away with her face hidden underneath the hood. A lot of people in school had already forgotten she was there. He saw her pause for a moment and check her phone hopefully. Her shoulders sunk, disappointed.

"What do you think about Ethan? I keep thinking he's into me and then I'm not sure," Danny asked, moving to sit beside her. The shadowed looked faded from her face quickly.

"I think he's trouble and you should be careful," she said, poking him in the arm with the dulled down eraser end of her pencil. She blew a strand of hair from her face.

"I know, but he's just so-"

"You sound like Lydia," Melanie blurted. "She's stumbling all over for Aiden. How do you even tell those two apart? They're so identical down to they're 'I'm an asshole' attitude."

Danny laughed, sinking back into the couch.

"I mean I know which one is straight and which one isn't, but how the hell else do you figure them apart. It's like they're one person."

He pinched the bridge of his nose still laughing as she ranted, her voice wavering up and down, measuring her excitement on the topic. Inside, her thoughts were far from excited or intrigued. She was worried why Ethan and Aiden had taken such a quick liking to Danny and Lydia. They were interested in them and she wasn't so sure it was because they actually liked them. Lydia, she didn't care too much about for obvious reasons. The ginger really provoked the worst in Melanie. On multiple occasions she thought about strangling her with her ignorant and useless quips. Danny on the other hand was the prime definition of innocent if there was such a thing.

She wondered if Scott and Isaac knew about the twins. If they did, they weren't giving anything away which was good.

"Just be careful. Sometimes people aren't what they seem," she said, her lips pressing into a thin line.

This is your chance to read some more or ditch the story. Melanie is my own invention. Review if you'd like.