You are a stranger here, why have you come?:
You spend a week in abject terror, avoiding even being in the same room as Gerard as much as possible. Thankfully, he doesn't seem to have much interest in you, and has gone back to buttering your parents up, clearly trying to get on their good sides. Your parents seem a little taken aback, but you can tell it's working, especially on your father, who is most swayed by the nostalgia factor. He even chides you for keeping your distance from Gerard, accusing you of being insensitive to your grandfather's illness. You want to tell him right then and there what happened, what Gerard was really planning, but you keep your mouth shut because you know better than that. He probably wouldn't believe you anyway.
Both Scott and Stiles try to catch you after school, but you ignore them, aware that Gerard could be watching your every move. And you have nothing to say to them anyway, no way to help them. You can't do anything for them, especially if they insist in getting involved in the war between Derek and your family.
But at school you can't always stay out of the crossfire, especially when Derek's betas know who you are.
It starts with your locker in the girl's locker room being broken into and your stuff stolen, escalates to Erica "accidentally" shoving you to the floor during Gym, and ends with her knocking your lunch tray all over you as you make your way to sit down in the cafeteria.
The entire cafeteria goes quiet and stares as you spit out marinara sauce that's gotten all over your face and upper half of your chest. A couple freshman boys hoot with laughter and clap, but everyone else is looking uneasily at the smirk on Erica's face. She's already gotten a reputation.
"Oh, Allison," Erica says patronizingly, looking at you down her nose. "You really should be more careful. That looks like it's going to be a bitch to get out."
You don't even glance in her direction, or Boyd's, or Isaac's, and carefully pick up your fallen tray and dishes and get rid of them before heading to the bathroom. There's no point in talking to her, not if you want to stay out of this mess. People stare at you in the hallway as you exit the cafeteria and you hope no one is watching the surveillance feed in the front office right now. You're in the middle of wiping the marinara sauce and noodles off your black shirt with damp paper towels when the bathroom door bangs open. Your eyes barely have time to widen before Erica shoves you back into the paper towel dispenser.
"You little slut," Erica snarls, eyes flashes gold, crowding you in against the wall. "You think you're so tough? I could rip out your throat before you could yell for daddy."
"I'm sure," you say, tone sarcastic, but you mean it. She could do anything to you right now and there'd be nothing you could do. A dull pain in the pit of your stomach is all you feel at this realization, though. You can't even muster the energy to be afraid. All you feel is a blanketing sense of resignation. She's a werewolf, and you're a powerless teenage girl. You can't stop her.
"Not even going to fight back, huh?!" Erica yells, furious at your lack of reaction for reasons you don't understand. She slams her fist into the wall next to your face and you can't suppress your flinch at the sound of breaking plaster.
"Erica, don't!" Scott yells, bursting into the girl's bathroom, Isaac and Boyd on his heels. He rips Erica away from you and throws her against the sink, placing himself in between you and her protectively. "What the hell do you think you're doing!?"
"Jesus, McCall, a girl can't have a little fun?" Erica says with a nasty smirk, pushing herself off the sink.
"Back off," Scott growls, claws lengthening and Erica, Isaac, and Boyd all stiffen up immediately. Scott's shoulders seem broader than you thought they'd be, and you focus on them for something to look at. You don't dare look at Isaac.
"Wow, you really must want to get in her pants," Erica says cruelly. "You could do better. Meeting the family'll definitely put a damper on things."
"Shut up," Scott retorts angrily. "You leave her alone, Erica, or I'll-"
"You'll do what?"
"Erica," Boyd says warningly, shifting nervously behind her. "Let's just go, okay?"
"No one wants to have any fun," Erica says and then her voice goes hard. "Hey, look at me when I'm talking to you!"
You do, automatically, and her lips curl up in a triumphant smile, like she's won something.
"The bell's going to ring soon," Isaac says out of the blue, and when you look at him he has that familiar tenseness to his shoulders that he always got when he talked to teachers and his father. He is pointedly looking at Erica, not at you.
Erica lets out an annoyed sound of disgust. "Oh, this is just so typ-"
The bathroom door opens before she finishes her sentence and Lydia Martin jumps a little when she sees them all standing there.
"What are you doing here?" she demands, crossing her arms over her chest. "This is a girl's bathroom."
"I'm sorry, did we interrupt your daily sobfest?" Erica turns on her, somehow even more enraged by Lydia's presence.
"No, I just object to trash where I fix my hair," Lydia says disdainfully, looking disgusted at the lot of them.
Erica lunges at her, and it takes Scott and Boyd to drag her away from Lydia out of the bathroom, Isaac following them without a glance in your direction. You're left standing in the bathroom with Lydia, who looks appalled at Erica's behavior.
"Crazy skank," she mutters, and then looks down at your shirt in disgust. "You do realize you have tomato sauce all over you, don't you?"
You push off the wall shakily and pull more paper towels out of the dispenser to continue cleaning off your shirt. But your hands shake and you can hear blood rushing in your ears, to the point where you almost feel dizzy.
Isaac hadn't even looked at you. He'd just stood there, like you never meant anything to him at all. Was it completely one-sided then? You thought...you thought you were friends, at least a little. But it doesn't seem like he ever thought of you as anything more than a temporary companion to sit with at lunch. And why would he? You're not good friend material. You're cold and closed off, you're not funny or entertaining. You're pretty, though you'd look better if you lost twenty pounds, but that's not exactly important friendship criteria.
Rage and despair fill you up to the brim at once, until you can't stand it anymore, and then you just lose it. You tear off your black shirt, struggling to get it over your head for a stupidly long amount of time and then chuck it at the mirror. It hits the mirror with a gross splat and then falls down to the sink, leaving a red marinara sauce stain in its wake.
Lydia leaves immediately, the bathroom door swinging behind her, presumably to find a bathroom with people less crazy than she is, not more, and you sink to the disgusting floor in your bra with a broken sob. You don't think you can do this for much longer.
But then, fortunately, you don't have to. Because that's when everything changes.
You're putting groceries in the trunk of your car when it happens. You've taken to doing the grocery shopping as an excuse to get out of the house and it's about eight at night because you took a four hour nap after you got home from school. You're leaning down to pick up the milk gallon at the bottom of the cart when someone clears their throat behind you. You stand up slowly and are not at all surprised when you turn around to see Derek Hale and his three betas clad in douchey-looking leather jackets standing a couple feet from your car.
"Allison, right?" Derek Hale says, with an all-together too pleased smirk. It's the first time you've really had a good look at him and you can't help that notice despite the stubble, he's very handsome, though shorter than you expected. Maybe it's because both Boyd and Isaac are freakishly tall next to him.
You're standing alone in an almost deserted parking lot at night in a tiny town, you realize, chest beginning to feel cold. This is not going to end well.
"What do you want?" you say, shocked at how instead of fear you find yourself suppressing your rage. How dare he come here and threaten you? How dare he take advantage of vulnerable teenagers for his own personal gain, caring nothing for the danger he's put them in. If they survive the next few months they'll be lucky, much less into adulthood.
"I've been hearing some interesting things about you," Derek says, and you're not at all surprised by the cruelty in his face. It makes sense from what you know about him. "I figured it was time we met."
You have nothing to say to this and remain silent, muscles tense with anticipation to flee or fight, even though logically you know you have little chance at either.
"You've been giving Scott McCall information about Gerard's plans," Derek says, sauntering closer. Your hands clench into fists and you tighten your jaw to keep yourself from shaking, even though he must hear your panicked heartbeat. "And you're going to do the same for me."
"And why would I do that?" you ask, hating yourself for the querulous tremor in your voice. "I don't care what happens to you," you say, trying to focus on all the reasons you despise him to strengthen your resolve. "You and Gerard deserve each other; you can kill each other for all I care."
You know you've gone too far when Derek's eyes flash red and before you can make a move, Derek grabs you by the collar of your shirt and slams you into the side of your car.
"Let me give you a little incentive," Derek snarls and a gasp of fear and pain escapes your mouth as his fangs lengthen and you feel his claws poke the skin beneath the collar of your shirt. "You tell me what I want to know, or I'm going to rip out your throat. With my teeth."
"Go to h-hell," you say shakily, but even as you say it you wonder what's wrong with you. He could kill you. You have no way of knowing if he's bluffing or not. You're all alone in a parking lot at night. No one is coming to your rescue. Why does the prospect of death frighten you less than your disgust at the idea of helping Derek Hale? There's probably something wrong with you. Normal people would be begging for their lives right now, but instead you're...numb. Resigned.
"Or maybe," Derek says contemplatively, leaning in so close that his breath ghosts your cheek and causes your stomach to turn unpleasantly. "Maybe I could get a better use out of you. If I were to turn you...you'd have no choice but to help me or end up with an Argent bullet between your eyes."
Now you feel afraid. Your eyes widen, and you try to struggle out of his grip, but it's no use. He's no doubt several times stronger than you and he holds you effortlessly against the side of your car. You can't be a werewolf. He's right, your parents really will kill you. They wouldn't see you as their daughter anymore. You'd be just another monster to them.
"Let go!" you gasp, trying to push yourself off the car. You can't be a werewolf. You'd rather die than live for the rest of your life with the fear of death hanging over your head at any moment.
"You have to admit it would be rather ironic," Derek muses, smirking at your feeble attempts to get free. "To have a werewolf Argent right under their noses. Can you imagine their faces? Do you think they'd kill you themselves, or do you think they'd make you do it? You Argents have always had a twisted sense of hon-"
"Derek, don't!" Isaac says all of the sudden, and you both freeze and turn to look over at him in surprise. Isaac's face is very white, and he looks like he regrets speaking at all. He isn't looking at you, but at Derek instead, eyes wide and fearful.
"What did you say?" Derek growls, leaning back, but keeping his fist tight in your collar to prevent you from moving.
"I-" Isaac stutters, the panicked look on his face quite clearly showing that he wishes he could sink into the floor, or at least duck his head and look away, but for some reason he doesn't. "She...she doesn't know anything. Just... just leave her alone."
You don't know what else to feel than shock at his defense of you, but you're distracted by the utterly terrified look that Erica and Boyd give him in response.
"Really," Derek says, slamming you against the car door again so hard you let out a pained cry when your head comes in contact with the car door. "And how do you know that?"
"Derek, please, just-" Isaac says helplessly, looking at you for the first time in weeks. He looks terrified, and you feel sick as you realize his expression is mirrored on Erica and Boyd's faces.
"You'll do what I tell you," Derek says firmly, and then pushes your head to the side, exposing your neck and leaning in, but his eyes are on Isaac.
"Derek!" Isaac yells, leaping forward and too late you realize that this isn't about you at all. Derek has no interest in turning you. This is a test, for Isaac, and he just failed.
"Wait-" you start, voice muffled against the car window, squirming to get free, and then there's the sound of a fist connecting with flesh and Derek is thrown backwards onto the pavement.
You push off the car door and for a second everyone just stares at each other, shocked, Derek on the ground, Isaac standing next to you, slowly lowering his fist.
Then Derek's expression turns murderous. Isaac barely has time to cower backwards before Derek lunges for him, hitting him so hard in the solar plexus that Isaac crumples to the ground immediately without a sound.
"So this is how you repay me?!" Derek says furiously, anger and betrayal all over his face as he kicks Isaac in the face, shaking with rage. "After all I've done for you?"
"Derek, don't-" Isaac gasps, trying to drag himself away, nose spewing blood. Behind him Erica and Boyd look horrified, but neither of them lift a hand to stop Derek, presumably afraid Derek will go after them as well.
"I told you when I turned you that your allegiance is to me, not to her," Derek says, circling Isaac, eyes glinting red. "And yet you still don't seem to realize that she is the enemy."
"Derek, I didn't mean to-" Isaac pleads weakly, voice hoarse as he clutches his chest where Derek punched him. "I just meant...I just meant she didn't do anything..."
"Stop defending her!" Derek shouts angrily, reaching down to dig his claws into Isaac's bicep, heedless of Isaac's scream of pain. It resonates in your ears, but worse is flinch on Isaac's face right before he did it, the way he braced himself for it, as if he expected nothing less. As if this isn't the first time Derek has hurt him.
"She is not your friend!" Derek continues furiously, squeezing harder until blood starts to drip down from Isaac's jacket sleeve onto the pavement. "She's a hunter and a liar, and she will use you. It's what they do. They twist themselves into your head and when you're least expecting it-"
You stop listening to his angry diatribe as you realize that no one's going to stop this. Erica and Boyd are too afraid of Derek to intervene. Your best bet is to hope for one of the few people left inside the grocery store to come out to their car, but you can't rely on that alone. And fury is building itself up in your body, like water in a teapot, threatening at any moment to boil over. You can still feel the residual aches of his disgusting hands on your body, the way he pushed you around like you were nothing. All you can see is the pain on Isaac's face, all you can hear is his pleading for Derek to let him go, all you can think of is the fact that this might not be the first time Derek has hurt him, that Derek is not the kind of man who is above using pain and fear to get his point across.
You leap for the keys in your purse and scramble to open the driver's side door with shaking hands, hardly believing your luck when no one seems to notice or try and stop you. This really was never about you anyway, was it? It was all about whether your former friendship with Isaac was a threat to Derek's influence over him, and now that Derek's found the answer he doesn't care about you anymore.
"Now how am I supposed to trust you, Isaac?" Derek continues while you're fumbling with the latch on the box under the passenger seat. "If you can't even understand that hunters are the enemy, I'm not sure how I can-"
The first shot catches him in the shoulder and the second misses entirely. You were aiming for his chest, but you're just glad that you were able to hit him at all. You haven't shot a gun in years, and you've certainly never shot a person before. You didn't remember how loud it was, or how strong the kickback was going to be, even on Kate's gun.
Derek drops to his knees and shouts in pain, clutching at his shoulder and then glares up at you in fury. His eyes are still human, though, and it makes it easier to say what you have to next.
"Move and the next one goes through your head," you snarl, and hope he can't tell that you probably wouldn't be able to hit him in the head.
Erica and Boyd growl and step forward, their eyes flashing gold, and you fire another shot at their feet. "Don't get any closer!" you yell, the gunshot ringing in your ears painfully.
They stop in their tracks, eyes wide and gold, and everyone stares at you in shock. You don't know what to do next, you realize, clutching the gun tightly with both hands, feet in the stance your father taught you. Should you leave? Threaten them more?
Isaac's nose has stopped bleeding, doesn't even look broken anymore, but the uncertainty and shock in his eyes as he looks up at you from the ground show no signs of abating. You've never seen him look like that before.
"Isaac, get in the car," you tell him slowly, looking away from him and focusing on Derek instead.
There is a long pause in which Derek's eyes widen and no one moves.
"Isaac," you say again, gun shaking slightly in your hands, and hate the way your voice sounds like begging. You're too afraid to take your eyes off Derek, and your shoulders slump imperceptibly when you see him scramble to his feet out of the corner of your eye.
"What the hell do you think you're doi-" Derek starts, snarling at Isaac, eyes glinting red.
"You shut your mouth!" you shout, jabbing your gun at him threateningly. You can feel your face flushing with anger and know you have to restrain yourself before you do something you won't be able to take back. "You ever...I ever see you again, I will kill you, do you understand me?"
You don't bother to wait for his reply and turn to give Isaac a pleading look. He's standing on the other side of your car, gaping at you like you've grown an extra head, but he moves at the same time you do to open the car door and less than ten seconds later you're speeding out of the parking lot, leaving half your groceries behind in your shopping cart and your trunk still open.
"Shit," you say hoarsely once the lot disappears from view. You click on the safety and throw Kate's gun into the backseat, starting to feel lightheaded and weak as you speed down the dark street without any clue as to where you're going. "Shit!"
Isaac says nothing. He is very still in the passenger seat next to you, hands clenched into fists in his lap, and his silence just makes things worse. Why doesn't he say anything? Doesn't he realize how screwed you are?
"Are you okay?!" you demand, turning away from the road to look at him, even though you probably shouldn't. You're pretty sure he's healed by now, but his lack of anything to say is freaking you out. "Isaac, are you okay?"
He looks at you uncertainly, like he's not sure why you're asking and then nods, looking down at his hands in shame.
That's the last straw and you have to pull over onto the shoulder and park before you kill both of you with your distracted driving. You slump onto the steering wheel and gasp for breath, trying not to let the weight of what's just happened crush you. There has to be a way out of this. You just have to think.
"Allison...?" Isaac says, sounding worried. "Are you-"
"Shut up!" you snarl and you hate when he actually listens to you. "Shit!"
You lash out and punch the steering wheel, but it doesn't help relieve the fury building up in your chest, it just bruises your knuckles.
Isaac jerks in his seat in shock and you realize to your shame that the last thing he needs is for you to lose control. You slump against the steering wheel again and take deep breaths to calm yourself down, clutching at the wheel to keep your hands from shaking.
When your heart has stopped pounding almost painfully in your chest, you look up at him carefully. Isaac's face is completely blank, but his shoulders are stiff, like he's preparing himself for anything.
You turn and look down that dark road. You've driven into the sort of no man's land between the forest preserve and the retail area. There are only a couple street lights and a gas station on the right. No cars have passed you this entire time, but you know you can't sit here forever.
"Where...where do you want to go?" you ask him, turning back to look at his bloody face. You know you should just take him home, but even as a werewolf you don't want him around his father. Maybe his dad leaves him alone now because Isaac has the strength to fight back, but your blood boils at the thought of bringing him back to that...that man.
Isaac mirrors your earlier movement and stares out through the windshield at the road ahead.
"I can't...I can't go home," he says quietly. "My dad'll...Derek kicked the crap out of him, so I can't...I can't go back there."
At least Derek was useful for something, you think viciously, taking an inordinate amount of pleasure at the thought of Isaac's dad getting what was coming to him. You hope Derek sent him to the hospital.
Isaac inhales audibly, his shoulders shaking, and they don't stop. You watch as his face contorts, eyes squeezing shut and breath getting faster even as he tries to keep himself from panicking, fingers digging into his jeans.
"Isaac!" you say worriedly, reaching for him, but your seatbelt hampers your movements.
"I don't..." he gasps, ducking his head down to rest on his knees. "I don't have anywhere else to go. I can't...I can't go home, my dad'll...he'll kill me and I don't-"
"Isaac!" you say again, struggling with your seatbelt. You've never seen him like this before, not even when he came to school covered in bruises, and it scares you more than it should. Isaac has always kept a tight lid on his emotions, even though he's never been able to hide the misery from his expression. To see him breaking down like this, scared and panicked...it's not right. It shouldn't be like this.
You lean across the divider and wrap your arms around his neck awkwardly, pulling him closer so that his breath ghosts over your cheek.
"Isaac," you say, your voice shaking horribly. "Isaac, it's going to be okay, I promise."
Isaac lets out a pained sound, his eyes squeezed shut, but you can see tears on his cheeks and for some reason that triggers your own eyes to water. It's... it's just...unacceptable. This can't be allowed to go on. You can't...you won't let him be like this, you have to stop it somehow, make it better.
You pull his face closer so that your foreheads press together and you cup his face, brushing your thumbs over the wetness on his cheeks.
"Hey," you whisper, cursing inwardly that this stupid divider is in the way. It shouldn't be there, why is it in the way, you need to hold him. "Hey, Isaac, please, it's going to be okay, I promise. You're going to be okay, I'll make sure of it."
Isaac chokes out something incoherent and grasps and your arm, holding on so tight it hurts, but you don't pull away.
"It's okay, it's okay," you whisper frantically, desperate to get that horrible look off his face any way you can. "Isaac, please. We'll figure it out, I promise."
Isaac shudders and takes a deep breath and his grip loosens on your arm, tension draining from his face, though he doesn't open his eyes.
"Hey, hey," you whisper, blinking furiously against the tears pooling in your eyes, too upset to examine why you're even this upset in the first place. You're usually not this emotional.
"Allison, I'm...I'm sorry," Isaac whispers, opening his eyes to look at you tearfully. His eyes are very blue, even in the dark, and the look he gives you is so wounded you have the strange urge to cover his eyes, as if that could make it go away. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have...Derek, he...I'm sorry, I should've-"
"No, no, it's okay," you say, shaking your head, because you can't care about that right now. All you care about is making sure he stops crying, stops looking at you like that. It makes you want to take him home and wrap him up in your bed where he'll be safe. It also makes you angry, fills you with a protective rage that you've never felt before, makes you want to hurt someone, Derek, Isaac's father, anyone who's ever had a hand in making him feel this way.
"Derek... I should've known," Isaac continues, looking anguished and self-deprecating, letting out a horrible, painful sounding laugh. "I was such an idiot, I should've known better than to think he'd ever-"
You kiss him so you don't have to hear the end of that sentence and Isaac goes rigid under your mouth. His lips feel different than Scott's, rougher, but you don't have time to analyze if you like that or not.
You regret it the second you pull back and see the absolutely dumbstruck look on Isaac's face, like he never even considered this, not for one second. What were you thinking? How on earth was that supposed to be a good idea?
"I..." you say, looking away from him down at the dashboard, though you don't remove your hands from his face. "Just...just don't, okay? We'll figure it out."
Isaac hesitates for a moment and then nods, eyes dropping down to the floor. You remove your hands from his face and somewhere between restarting your car and pulling back onto the road, you figure out where you need to go.
You take him to a dingy motel on the edge of town where the balding guy at the front desk just gives you a creepy grin and doesn't bother asking you for I.D. when you ask for a room. The room is dark, cold, and stinks of tobacco and mold, but you're so exhausted you'd take anything with four walls and a bed. Isaac seems to be of the same opinion, because he collapses face-first onto the bed almost immediately, only pausing to dump his leather jacket on the floor.
You stare miserably down at him and decide, screw it, you're not going home tonight. You can't leave him here alone in this horrible room. So you kick off your shoes and lie down on the bed beside him, staring up at the mildew stained ceiling.
"Allison?" Isaac says in confusion, turning to look at you, but you don't want to do this right now. You can't.
"Go to sleep," you tell him, even though it's barely nine. You turn out the lights and then climb underneath the musty burgundy comforter, trying not to think of how it reminds you of blood.
Isaac doesn't say anything for so long you think he must be asleep, but as the long minutes pass and you just start to feel the exhaustion press at your eyelids, he scoots closer to you, touching your waist hesitantly.
You go rigid, not even daring to breathe. You're such an idiot, you realize, fear beginning to build up in your chest. What were you thinking, getting into bed with a boy? Your mother had warned you, warned you about letting boys get too close, about putting yourself in dangerous situations. How could you just have forgotten all that, and oh, God, Isaac is a werewolf, he could do anything he wanted to you and you'd have no chance of getting awa-
Isaac rips his hand away from you, putting a pause on your panicked thoughts. You feel him roll away to the other end of the bed, and when you dare to raise your head, you see that he's curled up with his back to you, shoulders very tense.
He'd just wanted comfort, you realize, and wonder what it says about you that you never even considered that.
"Isaac," you say hesitantly, feeling strangely like you should apologize, even though you'd done nothing wrong. How did he think you'd react, touching you like that? You were in bed, alone, in a motel, didn't he see what that looked like?
Isaac doesn't reply. He stiffens up further when you touch his shoulder carefully, and resists, at first, when you try and pull him over to you. But eventually he gives in and lets you arrange his arm over your waist, his face pressed into your sweatshirt, the line of his body snug against yours. It's weird; he's bigger than you thought he'd be, and less skinny, though you think that might be because of the bite. You touch his hair in an attempt to be soothing and slowly he relaxes into you as you card through his curls. He's very hot, even through his clothes, and it takes less time than it should for you to fall asleep, wrapped around him like a second skin.
It's early when you open your eyes, the pale dawn light barely creeping through the dark curtains. Isaac's face is buried in your neck, his arm still slung over your waist. He's practically on top of you, which is very uncomfortable and you wonder how you were able to sleep at all last night. You don't usually sleep on your back. You carefully squirm out from under him, wrinkling your nose in disgust when you realize it's his morning wood poking into your hip. Isaac makes a weak protesting noise when you extract yourself from the bed, but doesn't wake up. You pad softly over to the bathroom and rinse out your mouth. You brace yourself when you get your phone out of your purse to check your messages, but are surprised to find that you don't have any. You were out all night and your parents didn't even notice? It's just after five now. They must have been out all night too...or what? Simply not noticed that you never came home?
Either way you don't have much time to get back home before they do notice.
"Isaac," you say, pulling on your shoes and then going over to the bed to shake him when he doesn't respond. "Isaac, I have to go now."
Isaac groans and rolls over, scrunching up his face in confusion. "Allison...?"
"I have to go before my parents realize I was gone all night," you tell him, but even as you say it you have the fierce desire to climb back into bed with him and wrap your arms around him.
Isaac's face falls, but he nods seriously and sits up without a word, running a hand through his bed head. "Yeah, okay."
"Do you have any money?" you ask worriedly, wishing you could think of an excuse you could tell your parents that would let you stay. You don't want to leave him here alone. "Clothes?"
"My clothes are in my locker at school," Isaac says with a shrug and then cringes when you pull out a twenty from your wallet. "Allison, don't-"
"Shut up," you say, leaving it on the table. It's not your money anyway. "Meet me at the bus stop after school, okay?"
Isaac nods, but he can't quite hide the naked look of fear in his eyes that's been present since he first confronted Derek last night. You wish you could say something soothing, something that would reassure him that everything is going to be okay, but all you can think of is that he is yours now, that you'll protect him and you'll kill anyone who tries to hurt him. And, well, that's a little creepy. You wouldn't like it if someone said that to you.
So you just say: "See you this afternoon," and leave before you change your mind.
Your parents and Gerard's cars are gone when you pull into the driveway, so you don't have to sneak in. You probably don't want to know what they were doing all last night. But instead you sit in your car and take deep, calming breaths and try not to panic.
It's going to be alright, you tell yourself. Isaac's going to be alright. You'll take care of him, you have to. No one else is going to do it, so it's going to have to be you. And honestly, that's how you prefer it.
A/N: Yay, this chapter is a little less depressing! Maybe...? Please review!
