A/N: I had a chapter similar to this posted before but didn't like the way it went, so this is my second attempt. I just want to disclose that my retirement from writing has now officially ended but I'm trying to work through some things by writing this. Many things that happen to Henrietta in the course of this story have happened to me, of course except for the supernatural stuff. I hope you like this and please do review. It makes my day/morning/evening/afternoon/night/week/year when you do. xx L.

Chapter 1

Often when the combatants are ranged face to face, and swords are drawn and spears bristling, these men come between the armies and stay the battle, just as wild beasts are sometimes held spellbound. Thus even among the most savage barbarians anger yields to wisdom, and Mars is shamed before the Muses.

-Diodorus Siculus Histories c.8 BCE

„Things have been weird lately," I told her, picking some weeds from in between long withered flowers, not knowing why I bothered when everything looked dead anyway. "No one's telling me anything anymore, I think-"

Footsteps crushing pebbles under their soles coming from behind me interrupted me. Startled I hastily got up from the ground, behind me stood a boy my age, to me he seemed to be roughly 10 feet tall.

I recognized him from somewhere but couldn't for the life of me place his face or his admittedly lovely curly hair. The two of us stared at each other for a few seconds, looking for all I knew like two deers caught in the headlights.

"Hi." I said awkwardly, embarrassed turning to brush off some grass from my skirt.

"Hi." He replied looking just as awkward. I looked over my shoulder and then back to him.

"You must think I'm some sort of freak." I said pointing to the gray headstone. He shook his head no.

"People usually come here to talk to the dead," He said rubbing his neck. "It's just-"

"Do you work here?" I asked interrupting him, looking at the rake he was holding pointedly trying to steer his attention away from my mother's grave.

"Y-yeah, yeah." He said nodding. "Do you want me to help you with the uh-" He asked gesturing to the mess her mother's grave was. Help with everything he meant.

"That'd be great actually." I decided after a short pause of guilty feelings overwhelming me. He dropped his tools and began rolling up the sleeves of his sweatshirt revealing a pair of nice arms.

"What do I-"

"We'll have to get rid of all the dead plants." He said and began raking the patch, effectively pulling out both weeds and the flowers that once were tulips and roses.

"You mean we have to get rid of everything." I observed watching him make work of his arm muscles.

"Yeah," He chuckled. "When was the last time you were here?"

My face fell as crippling guilt surged and overcame me "Six years ago." I murmured fidgeting, he turned around looking apologetic. "

I didn't mean to-"

"S'alright." I said brushing it off with a smile that didn't feel sincere. He went back to raking as I watched him. Her mother would've been disappointed by what had become of her grave and memory.

"I'm Henrietta by the way."

"I know - you're Stiles' sister," I narrowed my eyes but didn't say anything, it was always 'you are Stiles sister' never 'I sit behind you in Chemistry' or 'we once partnered on a project'. "And you sit behind me in Chemistry."

Oh.

"Really? I could've sworn I would recognize those curls anywhere." I blushed red realizing what I had just said. Great. He turned around and grinned at me, a mischievous glint in his eyes

"Yeah?"

Despite feeling embarrassed denying it now wouldn't work. "Yeah." I admitted grinning as well.

"I'm Isaac," He said offering his hand to me, looking at it I noticed dirt on it, following my gaze he did too and retracted it, sheepishly. "Sorry."

I shook my head dismissing the apology and held out my own hand, it was stained as well. "It's okay, I used my fingers before." He grasped and squeezed it. I would've never admitted to it but his large hand engulfing mine felt nice.

"You are on the lacrosse team as well, right?" He nodded. "Yeah, number 14. I'm surprised you didn't recognize me, you are always watching the games." The realization that while I had stared off and imagined myself elsewhere and subsequently hadn't noticed him, he had.

"I just go for my brother and the unlikely chance that he might play." He laughed thinking of Stiles actually on the field - playing, Finstock would have to be recovering from some very heavy whiplash for that to ever become reality.

"Done. In about two months time we can start planting," He said straightening up. "If you want to." He added suddenly looking less confident, I scowled.

"You mean because I didn't care before?" I snapped, he backtracked immediately.

"No! I meant 'we' as in us doing it together, I wasn't - I didn't. That's not what I meant at all."

Oh.

Drawing my own conclusions didn't seem to be working for me. At all.

"Huh." I said, intelligent and coherent as ever. "I'm sorry for snapping at you, today is just not a good day for me. Although, that's of course not a good excuse." He looked at me strangely but nodded. I felt relieved, I hadn't meant to push him away just yet. "And thanks, I think my Mom would appreciate it." I added gesturing to the freshly raked earth.

"No problem, Hen." He replied smiling again, it was a really nice smile with dimples that made his eyes light up. The honking of a car interrupted us to my surprise a police car was waiting at the gate, the engine was running.

"I gotta go." I said shouldering the bag that had been lying on the ground and turning around.

"I'll see you in two months then?" Isaac asked, I turned around to face him.

"I actually thought of tomorrow at lunch." We grinned at each other and I waved to him as I jogged to the police car, that turned out to not be my fathers. Inside sat Deputy Freeman or Sebastian as I knew him, I leaned on the frame of the rolled down window and smiled at him. "For a moment there I thought you were someone else."

"Who else would it be?"

"I don't know? Maybe the man that calls himself my father, carries a gun and a Sheriff's badge."

"Well, aren't you glad then that I'm not him?" He asked, his eyes twinkling mischievously pushing the door open. "Get in, babe."

His hands were on my hips and waist, rubbing along my skin under my shirt. His thumb trailed over my hipbone and caught in the hem of my shirt, pulling it up. We were both breathing heavily.

"Are we really gonna do this back-alley-in-a-car-groping-thing like two desperate teenagers?" I asked stopping him from pulling my shirt off completely. He looked at me grinned and kissed me on the mouth.

"One of us is."

"Desperate?" I asked snickering.

"No, a teenager." He said and kissed me, again trying to take my shirt off.

"Seriously, Seb. What if somebody sees us?" I slid from beneath him and got into a sitting position leaning my back against the car door.

"Like you said it's a back alley, nobody comes here." Sebastian insisted, caressing my cheek with his hand.

"Are you really willing to risk a life in jail for a quickie behind a bar?" I asked turning away from his hand.

"You've got a point." He said looking disappointed.

"Come on," I said and moved in closer to kiss him.

"No need to look so disappointed." I coaxed despite feeling oddly relieved that nothing was happening nor would happen.

"Next time, let's just meet at my place when I have a shift off." He suggested his hands wandering back to my hips. "Cool." I said despite feeling the exact opposite of cool. And that feeling wasn't hot either.

Sebastian ended up driving me home, letting me out a few blocks away from where I lived in fear of anyone seeing us.

As I walked down the sidewalk I wondered whether I had made the right decision to get in the car with him that first time back in September.

I didn't know how I had found myself in his car with his hands all over me in the middle of autumn, Adele playing on the radio repeating 'someone like you' over and over again. I wasn't in love with him, I admired him.

„Hey, dickwad."I said upon finding Stiles lounging on the couch playing 'Call of Duty' while aggressively eating seven bags of Doritos.

"Chick." He greeted me spraying orange crumbs and saliva everywhere.

"Gross." I admonished plopping down on the sofa next to him.

"Wanna play?" He asked through another handful of Doritos handing me the controller. "Try not to blow yourself up this time." I rolled my eyes at him and began strategically backstabbing him in his own virtual world.

We played for half an hour before Dad came, he found his two children covered in Doritos and heatedly discussing whether Iron Man would win in a fight against Batman and if the roles of their deceased parents had a significant influence on their fighting styles.

"I hope you are still hungry," Dad said with a look to the Doritos in my hair. "Shift's not over yet but I thought we could grab something." Stiles immediately dropped the controller.

"Sounds like a plan." He said, where there was food there was Stiles – nothing compelled the boy more than the prospect of feeding into his ridiculous teenage boy metabolism.

"Get going." Dad instructed picking a Dorito from my hair, ushering us to the cruiser.

Tradition was something the Stilinskis had done to boot, it almost had a compulsive quality to it when I sat in between my father and brother perched on a pillow chowing down on fries and a burger.

"Did they forget my curly fries?" Dad asked looking disappointed by the lack of fries in his bag.

"You are not supposed to eat fries, especially the curly ones." Stiles answered making both Dad and I scowl. I knew exactly why my brother was this oddly protective sometimes, I could relate, anything to keep my father alive and well for a few more years.

Between his job and the eating habits we had adapted to, curly fries were the smallest threat to be honest.

"Well, I'm carrying a lethal weapon. If I want the curly fries, I will have the curly fries." The Sheriff answered, the creases around his eyes crinkling.

"If you think getting rid of contractions in all your sentences makes your argument any more legitimate, you are wrong." Stiles said his tone rising with the last three words, when the Sheriff didn't answer Stiles returned to his straw looking smug.

"I think you are kind of right." I chimed and handed Dad some of my fries, Stiles resorted to physical violence by punching my upper thigh.

That hurt despite him being incredibly dangly. I made an indignant noise of pain and was about to retaliate when the radio went off.

"Unit one, do you copy?" Stiles hand immediately reached out for it, muscle memory working it's magic. Both Dad and I reached out to push Stiles' grabby hand away, though the Sheriff was faster in smacking his sons hand away. Stiles stared at the rest of his family, with his mouth open.

"Sorry." He conceded looking only half apologetic, mostly he just seemed offended by the smack.

"Unit one, copy."

"Got a report of a possible 187." The dispatch explained and the Stilinski siblings reacted in an eerie moment of synchronization.

"A murder?" Stiles and I asked simultaneously, earning us a look from Dad that clearly said 'not again'.

Though that was probably more directed at Stiles than at me. I had, unlike Stiles, not deemed it a smart maneuver to roam the woods in search for half a body.

"Buckle up." He ordered, I uncrossed my legs and slid to Stiles onto his seat and let him fasten the seat-belt over the two of us.

That used to be much more comfortable when we were younger and puberty hadn't struck me with a plethora of body fat (in all the wrong places).

The Video 2C parking lot was packed with EMTs, police cars and with the usual morbidly curious spectators. I winced at the sight of the gurney.

"Stay here." Dad said turning to instruct one of the Deputy's. Stiles looked crushed but I couldn't care less I wasn't about to scar my youthful innocence by seeing a body. But then from my peripheral view I could see Sebastian in his cruiser talking over the radio.

Against my better judgment I unbuckled us and climbed over the driver's seat to the door. Stiles didn't even notice as my brother was too enticed by the things around him.

I knocked on Sebastian's open door to announce myself, he turned around apparently startled to see me.

"What are you doing?" He hissed and grabbed me by my arm pulling me around the car, out of sight.

"Ouch." I hissed pulling my arm from his grasp.

"What are you doing, Hen?" He repeated his eyes were hard and icy.

"I just wanted...to know what's going on." I said scrambling for an answer surprised by the way he treated me.

His gaze softened immediately. "We think it's the mountain lion again, he attacked one of the store employees."

I scowled and looked over to where my father stood and where Jackson Whittemore was announcing his discomfort in a manner that said nothing much about his manners except that they were severely lacking. That jackass.

"Is that a body?" I followed my brother's gaze and felt sick when my eyes fell on the body.

"This doesn't make any sense." I assessed, my frown deepening.

"What doesn't?" Sebastian asked.

"For one mountain lions don't go into territories where there are humans and second a moun-"

"Don't get in over your head, Nancy Drew. The police is more than capable," He shut me up and grabbed me by the arm again steering me in the direction of my father's car.

"Now, go." He said giving me a push.

Stiles was still curiously staring at his surroundings and hadn't noticed my disappearance, that was until I appeared next to him. He looked from me to the seat behind him and then back to me.

"Where were you?" He asked.

"I asked Freeman what happened." I said pointing to the cruiser.

"And?" He prompted when I didn't immediately disclose all the information.

"They think it's the mountain lion again," Stiles, to my surprise, looked relieved. "But that doesn't make any sense does it?" I added challenging him to agree with me but my brother just shrugged, dropping the topic like a hot potato.

I had spent weeks trying to get behind what my brother knew and was up to.

But nothing, he hadn't disclosed a single thing, neither how he knew that Derek Hale had killed his sister or buried her, or how Scott had gotten so good at Lacrosse, surely it wasn't because they had used me as human goal for the better part of the summer.

A/N: Don't forget to review! :) I hate to be that person but it takes 2 reviews and I will continue, please just say something. xxxxx L.