This takes place at the end of season 3 and follows canon, but Erica and Boyd are still alive. It obviously has scenes of abuse in, and some pre Scott/Isaac. You can chose to view it as just friendship though.

Also, I would like to thank my beta-reader, Its-A-Passion or all her help :)

Isaac never bothers to learn why Stiles has the whip in the first place.

It happens suddenly, too quickly for Isaac to decipher what's going on. One moment, he's sitting in History, or English or something, waiting for their teacher. Probably English, actually, and then the next thing he knows, he's back at home, his back tingling like the welts are rising again.

He remembers a crack. Not like in the wall, or the crack of knuckles. It's a full blown, air snapping crack. Isaac really isn't sure what happens. One second, he's doodling on the cover of his book and then his heart is in his throat and his lungs have forgotten their purpose. It's strange, he knows instantly what's happening, but can't stop it. The world looks dimmer, and it's all moving too fast or too slow and in all the wrong places.

He can see familiar, but fractured faces. He can see warm eyes and feel hot breath. He doesn't recognise any of it. Not the faces, or the scents, or their voices. It's like he's incarcerated in a glass cage. Everything is so disconnected, so out of reach. People can see him, but not the glass. They don't know anything is wrong, just keep talking and talking and Isaac just can't hear them. He can barely even see them. He's just trapped there, with no clue how to tell them, just struggling to get a breath and move.

He's just trapped.

He knows what is happening to him. It's a flashback. Only it's not. There is no flashing back. He can still see everybody, he still knows that he's in class, but there are images. They're blurred too. He can see his dad, can see the belt and his face and the tight lips. Like he's not taking any pleasure from it, but it's something he has to do. An important lesson he has to teach.

I can't have you fail again Isaac...

He knows it isn't actually happening, because he never saw his father's face when he did it. The voice echoing in his head makes him panic harder though. It's so clear and perfect that Isaac swears he just spoke in his ear, he can feel his dad's hot breath on his ear, can smell his coffee, black with two sugars and the sugar free chewing gum. He can feel his hot clammy hands on the back of his neck, holding him down, and one curled in his hair, one trapping his wrist.

He pulls back.

"P-please, d-d-don't!" He begs. His face is burning, but the hands are hotter. He can feel the blood rushing to the surface, the numb tingling feeling in his finger tips and the sheering pain on his back. His shoulders shake, and he hiccups. "I'm sorry!"

"Isaac!"

His whole body begins to tremble and he closes his eyes when he sees a flash of green. His throat hurts so much and he feels sick and can't stop shaking. He knows it's childish, but he thinks that if he closes his eyes, backs up and makes himself as small as possible, his dad won't see him. His dad will have pity on him this one time, will pick him up and make him hot chocolate and marshmallows like he used to.

He backs up and his dad grips his elbow. Isaac starts sobbing helplessly now. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please, don't, Dad. Please, dad, please. I-I'm sorry, I won't – please!" Isaac doesn't understand what he did wrong. He didn't mean to, and he was sorry, he was so, so sorry. He wants to do better, he wants to be better, he doesn't want his dad to be mad at him. He was sorry, can't his dad see that?

"Isaac, look at me! Isaac!"

He doesn't want to. He really, really doesn't want to, but knows he'd be furious if he doesn't. He opens his eyes and sobs at the anger on his dad's face. "I'm sorry."

"Isaac dude, just breath man."

Isaac doesn't understand. What does his dad mean?

"Isaac, sweetie, just breath, and try and calm down." It's a girls voice this time, and for the tiniest second, Isaac thinks it is his mother's voice, but banishes the thought.

"Isaac, it's me! It's Scott, you're safe."

Isaac knows that voice, but he can't remember where from.

Then it dawns on him that he's sitting on the floor in History or English, crying and the entire class are gawking at him.

Fuck his life.

The Coach is there, maybe as a substitute, but he probably doesn't know anything about English or History. He's trying to get everybody to back up. No one moves. Scott tries to get Isaac to answer him. Isaac doesn't say a word. Erica actually smacks the back of his head and Isaac swears he actually fucking growls at her. He still can't breathe, and it's freaking him out more than the tears. He hasn't really cried since Camden died, and before that was when his mum walked out.

This is probably an issue.

It takes him a while to get back into himself. It's almost like he's a ghost, hovering above everybody, watching. Just a spectator, but no association to any of them.

It's awkward when he drops back down into his body. They're all still staring at him. Stiles looks guilty and worried, Lydia is staring at him like he's psychotic, which he probably kind of is. The twins share a look that Isaac finds creepy because they are mirroring each other perfectly. Scott looks just as guilty and concerned as Stiles, probably more so, which Isaac thinks is odd, because he didn't do anything. Then again, Scott feels responsible for everything.

It's then that he realises Alison is petting his hair, shushing him and being all mothering. Isaac thinks this part is the weirdest, because she wasn't even mothering when they dated. "Err, what are you doing?" He thinks it's a fair enough question.

She shushes him again, she's rocking a little and then she mutters. "It's okay Isaac." She pulls back a little, and stares at him in the eyes. Isaac hates the concern in her eyes, but refuses the temptation to look away. He won't show he's scared, even though it's too late. He made a promise the day he accepted the bite, and he wants to keep to it as soldiery as possible.

"You okay Isaac?" Scott asks, and Isaac turns to look at him. It's easier staring into Scott's eyes than Alison. He doesn't feel any of the awkwardness.

"I'm fine," he finally says, but he can tell by the tension in everybody's shoulders that they don't believe him. His eyes flicker to Alison. "Can you let go?"

She blinks at him, and then whips her hands back, like she didn't realise she was embracing him. Glancing at her hands, she glimpsed into his own eyes before looking away again.

Everybody is still hovering around and fuck, he really can't deal with this. He pushes himself off the floor without a second thought and walks straight out of the room, actually having to push past Scott and Stiles.

He's on autopilot, he can feel his feet pounding against the ground, can see the blur of the lockers as he flies past. His heart is still thumping and his eyes are still burning, but he refuses to cry any more. The fire escape doesn't stand a chance, because as he pushes against it the hinges snap and it slams into the wall, cracking and denting the stone.

He's yelling at himself, telling his brain to snap out of it, to work, to associate, but it's being lax at best and no matter how loud he yells and screams it just won't work. It's making his chest burn, and if he wasn't so numb, he'd label it as frustration, and anger. Two minutes that feel like two seconds, he's under a shower, fully dressed and standing with his eyes closed.

They send Scott to talk to him, which shows just how much everybody relies on him, because they haven't really spoken since Isaac and Alison dated for those three months. Whatever the reason, Scott stands there for a few seconds, runs a hand through his hair and tries to figure out what to say. Isaac stays under the spray for a while longer and lets Scott suffer. He doesn't want to have this conversation, he doesn't even want to think about it right now. He doesn't want to deal with Scott ether, with his stupid big eyes and stupid puppy dog pleading.

Eventually, the water runs cold and Isaac shuts it off. It isn't because he's afraid he'll get ill, but he tries to avoid anything cold at all cost. It's a good thing werewolves run hot. After shutting off the water, he rests against the wall, remembering the breathing method Derek had taught him after his last panic attack. He's still ordering his brain to shut the hell up, but it's being ruthlessly disobedient today.

Scott doesn't say anything, even as he pushes past him to get to his locker. That doesn't bother Isaac anyway; he would have just ignored him. He strips out of his wet clothes and changes into his gym clothes. He has a spare set too; he learnt when he was fourteen to always bring an extra pair of clothes. He'll still have to explain his sodden boots to Derek, but whatever.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Scott finally speaks when Isaac is lacing up his sneakers. He's wondering if he can run himself into exhaustion tonight. He doubts it, he hardly ever becomes tired, not even after a fight and after the hype of adrenaline leaves him, he will still be floating on this incredible high. Right now, he feels mortal again, vulnerable in a way he promised himself he'd never have to feel again. At least with exhaustion he can collapse in bed without the fear of being plagued by a nightmare.

"Isaac!"

"What?" He snaps, then takes a second to compose himself.

Scott's shoulders sag, and Isaac feels a stab of guilt. It's not Scott's fault, and he really shouldn't be taking it out on him. But he's so angry right now. He needs to get out of here so he can beat it out on the track.

"It's just..." He sighs again. "You know you can talk to us, right? If you want to?"

"Do I look like I wanna talk?" Isaac replies back somewhat cockily, but is too frustrated with his stupid body betraying him to care. Isaac definitely doesn't want to talk about it, he doesn't even want to think about it. What he does want to do though, is find out why his body rebelled against him and his brain went into overdrive from a dumb crack of a stupid whip.

"It's just," Scott is kind of acting like an awkward turtle, and frankly, Isaac just doesn't care. "We're always here for you."

"Yeah, that's, uh, great Scott. Really, it is." Isaac scratches his nose, and there's a look of obvious surprise and relief on Scott's face until Isaac finishes his sentence. "Now, um, you can all be there for me, by never fucking mentioning this again."

Isaac stays long enough to see the disbelief on Scott's face before he's gone. He can't deal with this right now. He can't deal with any of it. He runs the track until his legs feel like lead and his lungs burn and he can't swallow without feeling like he's chocking down rock salt. It's the Coach who yells him off the track, and it's then he realises that darkness surrounds him and stars are scattered in the sky.

Coach gives him one of those looks, and there is a few awkward seconds where Isaac thinks the Coach is going to say something. Isaac spots his bag under the bench and realises that Scott must have dropped it by when he came by earlier, because his scent is clinging to it. He grabs it, changes into his spare clothes and bolts, leaving Coach to lock up. The school is dark too, and Isaac can smell the cleaning products the janitors used and it's all the more reason for him to hightail it out. The stuff gives him a killer headache, and he can already feel a stress one forming.

Derek, Peter and Cora are all there when he gets in. He curses himself at that, praying to a god he doesn't believe in that nobody has said anything to her. Because if they have then Cora would have told Derek and then Derek is bound to say something.

He's takes the stairs instead, because it will give him extra time, even if they are only on the second floor. He's trying his hardest not to hold his breath, because he swears that only happens in damn books and he's not going to be resorting to any clichés or in fact, anything that makes it seem like something is up.

He floats outside the door for a split second, before realising it's pointless, because one of them is probably close enough to the door to scent him anyway. Gritting his teeth, he steps through the door and surprise, surprise, all three of them are in the front room and all three of them turn to look at him.

Derek, of course, is the first one to make a move. He narrows his serial killer eyebrows. "You've been crying." He states, and Isaac frowns, because no fucking way can Derek smell that on him. "What is it? What happened?" He angles his body towards Isaac, and the last thing Isaac wants right now is a concerned fucking Derek.

"Nothing," he says, and tries to keep his speech level. Obviously it didn't work, or he's a horrible lair, because Cora scoffs and even Peter looks suspicious now.

"Isaac." He doesn't get it, is it really that difficult to say his name without it sounding like a damn warning?

"Derek, just, seriously," he sighs and shakes his head. How can he explain this? "It's nothing, okay," and then he shrugs, trying to dismiss the whole thing.

There is a few tense seconds before Peter pipes up, "What happen to your boots?"

And for the most part, normalcy returns.

It is hours later when he wakes up, the ugly orange glow of the street light is filtering through his blinds and he can hear a siren in the distance. His heart is drumming in his chest, hard, fast and painful. His throat feels like it's clogged up and like somebody tried shoving a toilet brush down it and his eyes are burning.

It's then that he realizes something heavy chucked over his middle and hot breath on his neck. His first instinct is to pull away, but when he hears a fierce growl in his ear and what he's now identified as an arm tighten around his waist he goes limp.

"Go back to sleep," Derek mumbles, and Isaac swears he's never heard Derek sound tired or not up to scratch before.

"What are you doing?" Isaac dares to ask, his voice dry and rough and comes out as a bit of a squeak. He feels his cheeks heat and he clears his throat self-consciously.

Derek doesn't respond, and Isaac is starting to wonder if he heard him when he replies; "You were talking in your sleep." Another pause. "I could hear you from across the hall."

Ah, there it is. There's his Alpha.

Isaac doesn't reply to that, and he just listens to the rhythmic beat of Derek's heart. He knows that Derek isn't going to sleep until he nods off first, which he doesn't mind. It's comforting in a way he hadn't felt in years, long before Camden died.

For a long time, he just lays there. Just lays there and thinks. He thinks about how stressed out his dad was after his mom left, and how everything went downhill after then. He knows people would just think his dad has always had this dark side in him, and yeah, maybe he had. He was damn good at hiding it then. He always hears in the papers about child abusers, monsters they label them, but it is far more complicated than that. All the reporters are interested in are the headlines.

His dad wasn't a monster, not in Isaac eyes. As a child, Isaac had always looked up to his father; he was strong, determined and reliable, somebody who demanded respect and deserved it. Isaac loved his dad, and he knew his dad loved him. He could still remember being cuddled up in his dads lap as his dad read to him, he had books of every genre, and it didn't matter if Isaac was too young at the time, if he asked his dad to read, he would. He could still remember his dads famous hot coco and marshmallows, the smell of his cologne and how his skin, no matter what, was always rough. Isaac remembers his first swimming lesson too, quivering on the edge of the pool and his dad gripping his hand, firm and encouraging, asserting Isaac in a confident voice, "There's nothing to be afraid of, Isaac."

And there hadn't. Isaac had never been afraid of his dad. There had never been a reason to, not then.

But that was when it was the four of them. When they were a happy family.

That was before his mom left.

He had been seven at the time, and Camden had been eleven. As he untwists and unravels memories he had purposely buried, he can pin-point it down to that one day, that simple catalyst. All it took was one more argument, one last goodbye and a few glasses of whisky. They all thought she would come back, Isaac can remember asking Camden if he could sleep with him, because he didn't like being near his dad when he was drinking. He remembers waking up early in the morning to his dads voice. He was on the phone, to their mom and Isaac could still recall the tremor, the uncertainty. It had scared him. His dad was the most confident man he knew. So when he walked in the hall way to see his dad whipping at silent tears, that was the first time he felt real fear.

Not fear for his father, or his safety, but his future. Mummy wasn't coming home and something was wrong with his dad. Nothing was how it was supposed to be, nobody would look him in the eye, not even Camden, and he wasn't afraid of anything. It had been fear of the unknown, of when he would see his mom again, when would his dad smile again, would his dad tuck him into bed now? Who would cook breakfast?

The questions had annoyed his dad, so he stopped asking. He still never hit them, never. He drank a lot more though, so much in fact, that the school threatened to fire him after he came in drunk one day. They went to live with their grandma after that, because their father couldn't cope. Camden was thirteen by then, and Isaac couldn't even talk to him without being a pain, so he stopped that too.

Their grandmother wasn't well though, and it wasn't long before they returned home. Everybody thought their dad was better, but he wasn't, he just got better at hiding it. Empty water bottles filled with Vodka at work and whisky at home. They stayed at their grandma's on the weekends, so it wasn't too bad.

When Isaac thought about it, it had slowly started then, their dad had never touched them, not even threatened to hit them before. When Camden got too cocky, his dad would yell and scream, tell Camden he was going to batter him if he didn't shut up. He started off slamming his hands on the table, kicking over chairs, a dent in the wall from his dads fist, and then it was a fist on Camden's jaw, and then Isaac's.

Isaac remembers the first time, he remembers the first time he hit Camden, how Camden had stormed out of the house, screaming he was going to run away and never come back, but he always did. Isaac's reaction had been different, Camden had always been the more confident, more outspoken and assertive. At school, he was popular, was the caption of the lacrosse team, had a gorgeous girlfriend and always had a friend to offer a couch or bed.

Isaac never had that luxury. Even before his dad had become violent, Isaac hadn't had many friends, and even then they weren't close. He preferred spending his time lost inside his Ghost Buster stories than playing scorer.

Up until Isaac had been bitten, he'd been invisible. Part of it was by choice, and then as he got older, it was more out of necessity than choice. It wasn't until he became twelve that this desperate feeling began to take over, this ache that would claw at his chest until he felt raw and exposed. He was lonely, he was old enough now to identify it, but it wasn't until he met Erica that he labelled it for what it was. He always had a feeling that he should make a friend, maybe try and get a girlfriend, but it always felt too late, like he'd been there too long and everybody already had their own little clicks and he had his. He was just the loner. He never so much as tried, he didn't even answer questions in class. People thought he was shy, maybe even retarded, but he just kept his head down in his books and ignored the whispers, ignored the looks and the stares and the questioning glances. It wasn't worth it. He wasn't worth it and he knew it, even they knew it.

He couldn't interact with anybody, because whenever he did, he was gripped with this fear, this tantalizing fear of what if? What if they found out? What if they knew? What if somebody found out that his dad used to... No, he can't, he can't go there again, not today. What if they found out and started treating him funny, like he was made of glass? Like he was fragile and needed to be coddled and that he was just a whimpering, terrified child.

But that wasn't him. Not at all. What happened to him didn't make him weak. He didn't feel vulnerable, he wasn't afraid any more, not of Derek, or Scott or even any adults. He wasn't scared; he didn't need to be wrapped up in cotton, or reassured that everything was okay.

People just didn't get it. They would hear the story, and assume they knew what had happened. That his dad was a monster and that was it, but it wasn't the case. His dad had been a dad, but he had lost himself somewhere and as Isaac turned into a teenager their relationship started to become strained as Isaac tried to become more independent.

It wasn't like that.

He wasn't traumatised.

He didn't need anybody's help.

So he really didn't understand what had happened today. That sudden jab of fear in his heart, the hot breath on his neck and the rank stench of coffee, that had made him want to gag. He had felt it so vividly, could feel the heat, the tingling, the stinging pain. He felt all of it.

He just couldn't understand why.

He hoped though, he prayed, that it wouldn't change things.

That everything would stay the same.

They had never treated him differently before.

None of them had treated him like he was vulnerable or weak because of what he went through. None of them brought it up, or tried to make him talk about it. They just accepted that that was his past, that he went through it and survived and that was it. They just let him deal with it in the way he wanted. They knew he was okay, and that if he needed to speak to someone, he could talk to them.

For years though, he had been alone, had nobody to talk to and he was used to that. He was used to bottling everything and used to not being okay. He was fine with that.

And he was still okay. Sure, a little shaken up, but okay.

He hadn't been truly scared since his dad died.

Today had just been one glitch in an otherwise perfect record.

So there is no reason for any of them to act differently towards him.

Isaac just lays there for hours, thinking and remembering. By some point, just as the sun starts peeking through his blinds and the street lights flick off, he falls asleep, Derek still curled around him.

Isaac's cold and alone when he wakes up, and when he opens his eyes, he winces and shuts them against the glare of the sun. The sun has to be high in the sky for it to have travelled fully across his room, meaning it must be near midday, so he's obvious slept through his alarm and Derek and Peter haven't bothered to wake him.

He can still smell the scent of his Alpha clinging to the sheets and enveloped around him like a comforting embrace. He breaths it in for a moment and finds it helps clear his head. Derek has a very distinct smell, like oak and the forest just after a storm. Fresh and clean and natural. He feels even worse than he did the night before, but the scent is like a subtle encouragement, a silent comfort, a message saying, 'I'm still here'. Isaac feels himself unwind a little and feels a appreciation towards Derek for it, even though there is no way he's going to say anything.

He takes a moment to debate between food and sleep, but his stomach wins and he crawls out of bed.

It's the aroma of pancakes that finally draw him into the kitchen, and he's surprised by the rather domestic scene he finds. Derek is standing at the cooker, spatula in hand, flipping the pancakes. He's wearing his usual stone-washed jeans and black top, but he's bare foot for once. His top seems tighter than normal, if that is even possible and Isaac can't help but admire the defined lines of his back.

Isaac sits down silently, grabbing the rolled up newspaper as he goes. He isn't really in the mood for any type of conversation, especially the one he knows is coming.

He's not even a quarter through the cross-word puzzle when Derek slides a plate in front of him and drops himself in his seat with the order, "Eat," on his tongue.

Isaac, of course, doesn't hesitate.

There are a few moments of silence before Derek says, "You going to tell me what happened?"

Isaac looks up through his lashes and swallowed a mouthful. "Do I have a choice?"

Derek raises an eyebrow for an answer. If Isaac wasn't feeling so terrible, he may have cracked a smile at that. Instead though, Isaac avoids eye contact and pokes at his pancakes with his fork. "It's nothing, really..."

"Obviously it wasn't." Is all Derek says.

Isaac sighs. "It's stupid, really. Stiles had this whip, and-"

"Stiles?"

Isaac nods and Derek seems to be considering this for a moment before signalling his Beta to continue.

"And he was messing around with it, and I kind of, freaked?" Isaac can feel his muscles coil up even as he says it, and that dry burning sensations in his throat again. He shifts uncomfortable in his chair.

"Freaked how? As in a panic attack?"

"Kind of?"

"What do you mean, 'kind of'? Isaac!" Derek growls, which really isn't helping, but Isaac reminds himself his aggression is his way of trying to help.

Isaac chews on his bottom lip, contemplating how to answer.

"It was sort of like a, a flashback," Isaac can feel his heart as it starts to beat faster and he wills it to slow. His blood rushes through is veins and heats up his skin. Just thinking about it is affecting his body, and that urgent feeling is back. The feeling that something has to be done, and soon or everything is going to go drastically wrong. Isaac knows that isn't the case, but no matter how much he pleads, his body and mind are at war with each other and Isaac is just the middle land where they drop all their bombs and send their troops. Isaac has no real defence against any of this.

And he hates that feeling. Hates feeling defenceless, powerless. Like he just has to stand there and take it, because running will just make it worse and laying back to let it happen is his best outcome.

He doesn't want that. He wants to be able to do something, to have some resemblance of control.

"Isaac," Derek says, and leans forward. "Its fine. Just, tell me what happened." His voice is calmer now, reassuring in a way that doesn't suit his alpha.

Isaac tries his best.