Notes: Thank you for reading, any comments are welcome :)
Chapter 7: Unwarranted Questions
Isaac is up earlier than anyone else only because he can't get back to sleep after he leaves Scott's bed around eight. He lies in his own room for a half of an hour before he gives up trying to count sheep (which seems ironic to him because of the whole wolf thing) and throws the covers off to grab a shower. He lets the hot water soothe his tense muscles, rubbing his hands over his face until he gets the headache appearing in his temples to disappear. Last night hadn't been kind to him in terms of sleeping; ever since he had heard that noise outside his body seemed to be on some sort of caution and alert setting. Every little sound throughout the cabin and shift of Scott's body in his sleep seemed to wake him up; four times between crawling back into bed with Scott and going back to his own room at eight. The clock chime downstairs jerked him awake at five; every so often Scott nuzzled into his side like some sort of kitten, Stiles was saying Lydia's name in his sleep and his ears kept straining to hear anything going on outside in the woods.
He scrubs his body in the shower, washing off Scott's scent and replacing it with mint flavored body wash and his own shampoo. He thinks a long shower might help him feel more awake but it just ends up having the opposite effect, body aching to sleep as he walks downstairs and slowly peruses the living room before finding himself in the kitchen. Isaac opens cabinets and the fridge, trying to figure out what he can make for breakfast since he did offer Stiles to do so after he ruined some of the leather in his jeep. His mind wanders to what summers used to be like here when Mrs. Stilinski was alive and Scott's father was still around; imagines a tiny Scott with wild brown hair that covers his eyes sitting at the table behind him, syrup on his face, eyes wide and adventurous, a bright smile that he still has even with age.
Thinking about Scott like that, young and innocent and hopeful, reminds him of himself when his brother was still alive. When he had a hero right in the flesh that fought in wars against things that went bump in the night. Even before he disappeared into the army, when they were both younger Camden would run around the house in a cape and save Isaac from dragons, ghosts and monsters alike. But then his brother grew up and went away and suddenly there was no one to fight Isaac's battles for him; he was left alone to war against his own demons and ghouls—and most of the time he lost.
That's one of the things Isaac thinks he likes most about Scott; no one cared about him before, no one was willing to be on his side to fight the battles he needed to win. No one gave a shit that he was just trying to survive, parents and teachers ignored the bruises on his skin and pretended everything was fine, didn't think about the demons Isaac had to deal with in the confines of an unplugged freezer but
Scott cared.
He knew it the very moment at the rave when he told him he didn't want him to get hurt. He can remember his shell-shocked face, the way he stared at his retreating back long after the other had left his side. Scott, someone who barely knew him, someone he had been awful to because he had followed his alpha's orders and had depended on blind faith. Scott, an omega by his own choice, kind, thoughtful, heroic in his a modest way—he didn't want Isaac to get hurt. He remembers being surprised because Scott was the first person, in a long time, who cared whether or not he lived or died.
Isaac still might not have a lot of people that he can depend on, but he has Scott. And that, really, makes all the difference.
He works into the morning to gather ingredients for omelets; he puts shaved cheese, cut up pieces of ham, peppers, bacon bits and other odds and ends into small bowls and sets them down on the island for people to pick from when they eventually wake up. He makes a cheese omelet for himself and puts a pot of coffee on, sitting on one of the island stools to enjoy his breakfast. He's not three bites into his omelet before he feels Scott slide up behind him and kiss his shoulder.
"Morning." He whispers and Isaac smiles, a soft shiver traveling down his spine as Scott nuzzles his nose into the back of his neck while his arms wind around his waist.
Isaac turns his head, his nose brushing Scott's cheekbone as the shorter rests his chin on his shoulder. "Hi." He kisses his cheek and runs his hand along the arms around his waist. "How'd you sleep?"
Scott nods, closing his eyes as he lets out a long breath while Isaac's nose bumps against his jawline. "Good. What about you?" He looks at him and smiles softly. "You look beat."
Isaac shrugs his one shoulder which gently shifts Scott's chest against his back. "Not as well as I wanted to." Though he doesn't elaborate on whether it was from his run of the mill nightmares or something else.
For whatever reason Scott doesn't press. Instead he moves to get himself a cup of coffee, smiling softly as he pours himself a good amount and nods towards the ingredients on the table. "Omelets?"
He stands up and smiles, getting ready at the stove. "Yeah, choose whatever you want and I'll make it."
He chuckles and eats a few bacon bits before passing them over to Isaac along with the ham and cheese. "Man, Stiles is going to love you."
Isaac quickly and efficiently makes the omelet, turning the stove off before placing it on a plate for Scott. He turns and leans against the counter, smiling at him as he hands him the plate. "I'll tell him I'm already spoken for."
Scott raises his eyebrows and sets the plate aside, inching forward to pull at the waistband of Isaac's sweatpants. He tugs him into his chest and grins. "Oh is that so?"
Isaac hums and leans down so Scott doesn't have to reach up as far to kiss him, wrapping his arms securely around his back. He squeezes around Scott's midsection as he cups Isaac's face, tilting his head to kiss him deeper—
"Oh God," Stiles groans, shielding his eyes as he walks into the kitchen. Isaac and Scott pull their lips apart but their bodies remain connected. "Do I need to throw a bucket of cold water on the two of you; it's like, nine in the freaking morning."
Scott chuckles, his hands now resting on Isaac's hips. "Morning to you too sunshine."
Stiles grumbles as he sits at the island table. "Honestly, I think I need to point out the word 'discreet' to the both of you because you guys suck at this whole 'secret relationship' business. I could have been anyone walking in here seeing your tongues down one another's throats."
"Oh, we knew it was you." Scott points to his ears. "That's why we didn't stop."
Isaac smirks as Stiles makes a disgusted face. "Lucky me."
He pulls away from Scott's embrace to make Stiles an omelet, sipping from his coffee cup as Allison and Lydia eventually wander downstairs looking worse for wear. Isaac's never had a hangover before but they don't look pleasant at all. Scott chuckles and places a warm hand on the back of Allison's shoulders, gently massaging her muscles as Isaac sets down a cup of coffee in front of her.
Scott stands and goes to the fridge to grab the honey, pours some in the coffee and nudges the mug towards her. "Drink, I'll look for Advil."
Lydia has resigned to resting her head on the island counter next to Stiles and refuses to move a muscle even when Isaac asks if she wants something to eat.
"Just let her die in peace." Stiles whispers to him, smirking when Lydia finds the energy to tell him to 'fuck off'.
Isaac makes simple omelets for Allison and Lydia, just a little bit of cheese in hopes that it won't upset their stomachs any worse than they probably already are. He cleans up the kitchen and smiles at Scott when he thanks him for breakfast, brushing his hand against Isaac's wrist as he places his plate in the soapy water while the taller does the dishes. He disappears a moment later, announcing he's going to take a shower and Isaac dries his hands on a dishtowel as he watches Allison and Lydia push around their omelets on their plates before sipping his coffee.
"We should have a bonfire tonight," Allison says, glancing at Stiles who is pouring himself more coffee. "Maybe after spending some time at the lake? The weather is supposed to be clear and sunny all day and carry into tonight, we could see the stars."
Stiles nods. "We'll need firewood but a day at the lake sounds like a good idea…once Lydia stops looking like she's going to throw up into her eggs every ten seconds."
Lydia makes a face and places a hand over her stomach, excusing herself to quickly rush from the room to do exactly that. Stiles sighs and runs a hand over his face. "I better make sure she makes it to the bathroom." He mutters before leaving the room to go after her.
Isaac glances at Allison as they're left alone in the kitchen; he can hear the sound of the water running as Scott turns the shower on and Stiles is gently comforting Lydia as she vomits. He clears his throat, trying to pinpoint other sounds to distract himself; he can hear the gentle wind blowing through the pines outside, the hum of the refrigerator and the upbeat of Allison's heart…is she uncomfortable around him?
He looks over at her and is about to ask her if she's alright but she stands and puts her plate in the sink. "I'm going to go out and look for some firewood for tonight's bonfire before I forget and it gets too dark to find some."
Isaac glances at the backdoor and then to Allison, who is fixing the knot in the laces of her sneakers before he moves to follow her. "You shouldn't go out by yourself." Allison turns to look at him and crosses her arms over her chest like she's not impressed. "I'm just saying, Scott and I ran through those woods last night and it's easy to get turned around."
Allison taps her fingers on her arm and makes a soft noise before pulling her hair back into a loose ponytail. "Don't worry; I can take care of myself."
She's out the door and down the steps before he can even reply. He groans with a roll of his eyes and runs upstairs to grab his shoes before he follows her out the backdoor. He might be overcompensating, there might be no real threat out in the woods…but if he lets her go and something is in fact going on and something happens to her…Isaac wouldn't be able to forgive himself. She hasn't gotten very far with his heightened speed and he tries to gently grab her arm to stop her as she disappears past the trees and bushes.
Her reflexes are quick and she yanks him by his sleeve before he can touch her and slams him, not so gracefully he might add, against a tree.
"What part of 'I can take care of myself' do you not get?"
Isaac glares at her and takes her hand off his chest by grabbing onto her wrist. He tries very hard to control his strength so he doesn't hurt her as he spins her around and pins her to the same tree. His front is pressed against her back and he has her arm twisted so she can't move.
"I'm more than aware of that, trust me." He whispers in her ear, remembering all too well the deep cuts from the Chinese Ring Daggers. "But you're also hungover so you're not as quick as you like to think you are."
Allison groans and tries to shimmy back into him to pull herself free but he proves his point where she can't budge out of his grasp. She whimpers and finally sighs, resigns herself to stop struggling as she rests her forehead against the bark of the tree.
"Fine. Let me go."
Isaac hesitates a moment longer, and alright he sort of revels in the fact that he has her pressed against a tree and she can't seem to reign in her bearings to throw him off, before he backs up and lets her arm go. She winces and rubs the back of her forearm before shooting him a glare.
"That was unnecessary." She sniffs and steps over a log, not looking back at him as they start to walk into the woods.
"At least I didn't stab you with anything." Isaac shrugs his shoulder and he nearly misses the barely there smile that tugs at her lips.
0o0o0o0o
The process in collecting firewood takes a bit longer than he expects. They've walked a good distance away from the cabin and it's going to be a pain in the ass to carry wood back but the scenery is nice and he and Allison fall into easy conversation a few times so it's not too excruciating. But it is getting a bit hot out, the sun is leaking through patches of leaves on the high trees and the rays burn through the fabric of his shirt to heat his skin. He's sweating easily, it beads along his hairline and the back of his neck and he mostly just wants to get back to the group so he can dive into the lake and check out Scott in his swim trunks.
But he doesn't rush the process of collecting the firewood because Allison seems to be enjoying taking her time with the walk (the headache that she has from her hangover probably at the root of that) and that's fine with him anyways because he's been wanting to survey the woods ever since that noise kept him up last night. Isaac dives into the sights, sounds and sensations of the forest around them, trying to take in every tree branch rustling, every coo of a bird flying overhead, every crack of a branch or shadow dancing across the soil from the sun because he's not sure what's going to be important. If all or none of it is.
And it'd probably be going really well if Allison would stop interrupting to ask him a question or make a comment about her hangover.
"Are you trying to track something?" She looks over at him as he leans down to pick up a few sticks.
He discreetly rolls his eyes; how can he even concentrate long enough to track anything when she's disrupting every five seconds. "No." He answers, because it's not like he even knows what he's trying to look for anyways.
Isaac guesses it's nothing…it has to be nothing; he's just being paranoid. Living in Beacon Hills has made him paranoid.
"You have that face that my father has when he's hunting, trying to track something in the woods."
Isaac makes another face but it's more slightly confused, more annoyed. "There's a face dedicated to hunting?"
Allison hums. "Like concentration, are you focusing on something specific?" She stops and turns to look at him, reaching out to tap the bridge of his nose with her finger. It feels like she's scolding a puppy; condescending even though he knows it's not. "You keep scrunching your nose."
He steps over a tree branch and then doubles back to pick it up, remembering the whole point of them being in these damn woods. "I'm not focusing on anything." He insists, wanting to get off this damn subject.
The last thing he needs is for it to get back to the group that he's 'hearing things' and for Stiles to get all wound up on a tangent about sacrifices and alphas. At that point he might destroy the other half of the jeep's upholstery on principle.
"Can we just do what we came out here to do?" He snips as she opens her mouth to say something else.
Allison glares at him and says he didn't have to follow her out. Isaac wishes he sort of hadn't and would have just let her wander out here by herself to get attacked by that so called 'phantom noise'. Or mosquitoes. He's not sure which one first.
It's actually quiet for a while as Allison moves to his far right to get some branches (thank God) and he's left alone with his thoughts; first of which are trying to connect the hunter arrow he and Scott found the other night and the noise he heard outside which sounded like someone was watching the cabin. They have to live within the area, though when Scott and he were running around the woods last night he hadn't remembered smelling any other places nearby. Households usually have distinct smells, even from the outside. His grandmother's house used to smell like musty perfume and cookies, he remembers the way his father's house smelled like the walls were dipped in brandy, cigarette smoke and sponged with fear and guilt.
The McCall house smells like…like Mrs. McCall's laundry detergent, warmth, homemade lasagna and Scott's cologne. He doesn't recall any household smells when he was out here the other night…but then again he was rather distracted with running and well…Scott, so maybe he missed something. Maybe there are more cabins out in these woods, family owned establishments that date back and hold scents and memories just like Stiles' place. Maybe he had just missed something because he hadn't been focusing on it before. He knows, if anything, that he has to find tangible information before he causes any sort of disturbance in this long weekend.
Isaac glances over his shoulder to make sure Allison is still within eyesight before stepping over another fallen tree trunk, bending at his waist to pick up a few random sticks that look campfire worthy. He scrunches his eyebrows before he feels her come up beside him, easily dumping more wood into his arms. The branches scratch at his forearms, the prickling sensation making his wolf stir behind his chest but he easily keeps the beast at bay as he turns to look at the girl beside him.
She looks like she wants to say something and Isaac holds his breath because this can't be good. Can't he just catch a break?
Allison's eyes are wide and caramel colored as she looks up at him, the sunlight is breaking through the leaves to reflect against her hair, turning it into a light orange and auburn color. "Do you like Scott?" She asks smoothly, though the question nearly knocks him onto his ass.
She must be able to tell that she's thrown him off his game because she adds more and, God no, he really wishes she wouldn't. "I'm just asking because that kiss last night…" She trails off, like she's recalling it play by play…which Isaac understands, he's sort of doing the same thing and wow, his pants are suddenly tighter and he really shouldn'tbedoing this right now.
Alright, so fine, that kiss was rather…surprising for the group but out of all the kisses that he and Scott shared that one had been sort of temped compared to the ones Isaac can remember. And he can remember, in detail, about a lot of them—stuck between sheets and lips nipping at lips, tongues darting out and tracing skin and teeth clicking with desperation and need.
He fixes her with a look that says, 'what about it?' before she presses onward. "It was pretty intense but kind of comfortable too," He has the urge to ask her why the hell she had been analyzing his kiss with Scott like she suddenly did it for a living. "Like you've done it before."
Isaac lets out a low breath, wondering how he should go about this. She's talking to him too calmly, her heartbeat is still and constant, like she already knows the answer and he's worried that she might actually be aware of something.
The simplicity of whether he likes Scott is almost ironic because it's such a loaded question. He's stuck on the fact, again, that he's really glad that Allison's not a werewolf because his heart is doing the conga line in his chest.
"Oh," is all he says at first. "No," he laughs because that seems simple enough. He doesn't want to overreact. "It's not like that at all. Scott and I are just friends. And like I said, Scott isn't even that great of a kisser anyways."
His hearts skids in an upbeat of a lie; he enjoys kissing Scott. A lot. It's embarrassingly something he looks forward to. But it seems like a good comment to add because it puts her onto the track that kissing her ex wasn't as enjoyable as it seemed…and that he's not inclined to do it again anytime soon.
"You're close." She suddenly comments, like she's been thinking about it for a while and there's a hint of jealousy there that smells like burning wildflowers.
"Very," he agrees. "But that's just a pack thing."
He's not sure why he's trying to assure her but he's really aware that he should stop because for one, it's giving her false hope that's not there and secondly, it's just going to make him look like even more of an asshole when he and Scott finally do tell people what's been going on between them.
Isaac stops a moment and turns to look at her, trying to put this thing to rest because the last thing he needs is for her to overanalyze everything him and Scott do.
"Look, after everything with my father…" He hates using this as some sort of excuse regardless of the fact that it's partly true. He also feels uncomfortable revealing things about his past with his family even though it's obvious that everyone knows his sob story by now. "I have a hard time trusting people." He says, sticking his one hand in his pocket as his other arm holds the sticks and branches. "I have a hard time accepting that people might actually care about me."
Allison stands there quietly, absorbing what he says like some sort of sponge. She doesn't open her mouth to speak because she can't understand what he's telling her, she can't know what it's like to go through what he's experienced so she just listens—which he's more than thankful for.
"I trust Scott because he cares about what happens to me." Isaac knows that it's not so much about him personally but that it has a lot to do with the type of person Scott is but it's still better than anything he's used to.
He doesn't get into the fact that he feels connected to him, something that runs a lot deeper than pack, that it's hard to explain and that it's mainly something that he feels, that it very well might be the same thing Allison feels when she looks at Scott. That he's safe…that he's…warm and accepted and cared about, that he gets lost in the crinkle around his eyes when Scott smiles, the deep caramel color of his skin like he's been out in the sun all day and the soft and gentle way that he touches him. For a long time, the only touch Isaac was used to was the kind that brought him pain; it took him a long time to accept and relax into Scott's fingers on his skin, to not flinch away or wince like he was preparing for the worst.
Whether or not that answer's good enough for Allison, Isaac doesn't exactly care; he meant what he said to her in that janitor's closet that her happiness isn't his top priority. He concentrates just hard enough to pick up the slightest hint of satisfaction roll off her shoulders but it's muddled with something else, more questions, more doubts, more concerns that are unanswered and that he might have to deal with at some point.
But for now, he settles into the silence, his wolf relaxes at how safe it feels surrounded by woods and takes her deeper into the shade of trees to find more firewood for tonight's activities.
0o0o0o0o
It's around the half hour mark when Isaac starts to feel off.
The sensation is slow at first, like waves rolling into shore, but when he steps into a sunspot beating down through the trees he really starts to notice how much he's been sweating. He can feel it bead at the top of his hairline, drench his lower back and pool around the back of his neck. There's this ringing in his ears all of a sudden as he looks up into the sky, the sun blurring his vision and making him stumble.
"Isaac?" Allison asks as he blindly reaches out for a tree to steady himself and nearly trips over an exposed root of a tree.
The irony that werewolves are supposed to have improved balance because their reflex skills are sharpened is not lost on him. He's always felt top heavy as it is because of his height, long gangly legs playing catch up with the rest of his body's movement. He feels her grasp his upper arm to grab his attention or steady him, he's not sure. Concern is leaking from her pores and it gives him even more of a headache, which is now throbbing in his temples as he lets out a slow breath.
"What's wrong?"
He shakes her hand off his arm and swallows. "Nothing, I'm fine." His wolf whines low in his chest and he agrees that, no, the last thing he feels is fine but it's not like he can even understand what's wrong to explain it to her. He just doesn't feel right.
Isaac is about to propose that they just grab the firewood they've managed to collect and start their way back to the cabin when his head snaps up in the direction of third heartbeat.
"What the hell are you doing?" A girl no older than them glares in their direction—but rather than focus on answering her question, Isaac's wolf bears its claws, scratching against his sternum as it feels threatened; he zeros in on the rifle that's pointed right at Allison.
A growl rumbles low in his throat and Allison squeezes his arm again like she thinks that might steady him. He can always feel the transformation right before it happens when he concentrates on it; he just wants to threaten the stranger and his wolf revels in the idea of participating in a fight, in shedding blood. His claws start to grow and snag against the fabric of his jeans, his canines elongate and pinch his gums, prod the sensitive skin of the inside of his lower lip…and right before his eyes get a chance to glow illuminating yellow a guy steps beside the girl in question and yanks the rifle out of her hands.
He doesn't smell like a threat and Isaac relaxes into Allison's touch, his body uncoiling as his wolf backs down begrudgingly. He swallows, glancing at the two of them side by side, not sure what to make of them.
"What do you think you're doing?" The boy snaps, uncocking the rifle and sliding the lock into place. "What did I tell you about touching dad's gun?"
Isaac knew they were related before the statement, while the girl is obviously a little younger than the boy he can pick out certain characteristics that tie them together. Both have sandy brown hair with wild curls licking against the napes of their neck, from what he can see both have dark green eyes that remind him of the bottom of the ocean floor and their scents are all over eachother. That can only come from two things: a relationship with the other or being related through blood. That's why when Isaac hones in on Mrs. McCall's scent, past her flowery perfume, the decay of hours spent in a hospital and laundry detergent that he can pick up hints of Scott. The alike characteristics between the girl and guy help him determine siblings.
"You'll have to excuse her, she's been stuck in a 'shoot first, ask questions later' mentality ever since someone snuck onto our property about a week ago and poisoned our dog."
He doesn't remember passing a property sign of any kind…but maybe that was because he had been a bit busy deflecting questions about his and Scott's relationship. The guy looks over at them and smiles softly at Allison and Isaac doesn't even need to be in scenting distance to know he finds her attractive. He bites back the urge to roll his eyes and shifts his body so that he's leaning against a tree.
"It's alright," Isaac clears his throat. "I'm more than used to that type of mentality." He says pointedly, gaining a distinct glare from the female beside him.
The guy smiles, his cheeks dimpling in a way that reminds him of Scott. "I'm Charlie Campbell and trigger happy here is my sister, Ally."
"Allison and Isaac." She turns to look at him and he crosses his arms over his chest. "We didn't mean to trespass, or anything, we were just collecting wood for a bonfire tonight."
"You up here with family?" Charlie asks, running a hand through his hair.
"Friends." Isaac replies before closing his eyes a moment against a dizzy spell as the sun settles heavily on his shoulders when the leaves rustle aside from a strong gust of wind.
Allison nods before squeezing his arm again because it's clear that something is wrong but while he appreciates the gesture he really wishes she would just stop. "Just for a few days, my friend has a cabin near the lake so it seemed like a good idea at the time."
A crinkle appears between Ally's eyebrows. "The Stilinski cabin?"
"You know it?" Isaac asks, feeling himself start to sweat again. His stomach drops and swirls in his midsection, like he's been out to sea for months; if she knows where the cabin is maybe it was her that he heard outside the window last night.
But she shakes her head. "No, I mean, I know of it. My mom used to take us up here all the time when we were little and she'd tell us about the surrounding cabins. Not many people take their families up here as often as they used to."
"Do you live here?" Allison wraps her arms around herself and Charlie shakes his head.
"No, our uh," He looks down at his sister, who averts her eyes to the dirt. "Our parents passed away about a month ago so we're just up at the cabin cleaning out their things."
Isaac frowns as the grief from the three of them hit him hard; nearly knocks him over. He crinkles his nose and rubs his forehead; the scent of it making his head hurt more than it already does.
"I'm so sorry," Allison sympathizes. "I know what it's like to lose a parent."
He thinks he'd probably feel sorry for them too if he wasn't dealing with everyone else's heartache, it's like someone shoved him right back to the start when he just became a werewolf and didn't know how to deal with his heightened senses. All of their emotions are assaulting him, giving him a monstrous headache, his temples are starting to pound and it's drowning out his hearing.
Ally clears her throat and shrugs her one shoulder. "Anyways, we should probably get going. We have a lot of things to pack, it was nice meeting you," She makes a noise when Charlie bumps his shoulder into hers, edging her forward a bit. "And for…aiming a rifle at you."
"You should come to our campfire tonight," Allison offers, glancing over at Isaac before smiling. "We're going to roast marshmallows and probably go night swimming in the lake."
Charlie licks his lips. "Oh, we wouldn't want to impose…" But he looks like he's already saying yes and Isaac completely understands, Scott has fallen prey to Allison's large brown doe eyes too. "Hey, you okay?"
He doesn't realize he's breathing heavier than before when he finally stops listening to everything around him; three heartbeats disappear from his eardrums, the sounds of the forest stop, even his headache quiets it's pounding in his ears—and he can hear himself breathe. His lungs sound heavy, like they're filled with water.
Isaac shakes his head; they need to get back to the cabin. "M'fine." He assures them, taking a step back and standing as tall as he can as he leans up off the tree. "We should be heading back as well, the rest of our group is probably wondering where we disappeared to."
It takes him a moment to realize that Ally is watching him, almost like she's trying to figure out what makes him tick, digging under his skin and reading him like letters and words are etched into his bones and blood. It feels like a distinctive hand is squeezing along his spine with an ice like grip.
"Right of course," Charlie nods, smiling again at Allison. "Well, we'll see you tonight. Thanks for the invitation."
The both of them gather up the wood they've managed to collect between them and say their goodbyes to the siblings before heading towards Stiles' cabin. Isaac thinks he starts to feel better the closer they get but that hope is drowned out in the pulsating of his headache against his temples. He feels sweat drip into his eyes from his forehead; the tips of his fingers numb and it travels to his hands making him drop the wood at his feet.
He thinks he hears Allison scream for Scott but the sound disintegrates like he's being submerged into water, it feels familiar and he recalls a metal tub filled with ice as his vision blurs. He's certain he hears Scott's voice, sees shapes moving that might be him running down the back deck's stairs as Allison clambers to hold him upright—
but not even Scott can pull him back this time as he falls into unconsciousness, his legs buckling beneath him.
The dark feels like home and it reminds him of the hum from a freezer.
