Chapter 20: Fight or Flight

Porcelain cracked beneath Melanie's back slamming into it; at least she hoped it was the sink and not her own back breaking. Pain shot out through her back, spreading like a spider web. She could feel her spine digging into the edge of the sink; her breath came out in hisses between her gritted teeth as she tried to breathe through the pain but it was hard to do with the man's clawed fingers gripping the collar of her shirt. The claws poked through the fabric like it was wet cardboard and she could feel them scraping against the skin by her collar bone. She grabbed onto his wrists, trying to break his grip but he had werewolf adrenaline running through him so her efforts were futile.

"I have to say I'm impressed with your skill out on the field," he commented in an easy tone, as if he were conversing about the weather.

"I can't imagine…that you'd come all this way just to watch lacrosse," Melanie gasped, her sentenced stuttering due to her attempts at getting her breath back. She kicked her legs but the motion was for naught since her feet weren't touching the floor anymore.

"It's not my game. Basketball, now there's a sport. I'd suggest you look into it but you miss the height requirement by, say…a full person."

"I've never heard that before," Melanie replied, her lips pulling back into a brief smile. "Really, I haven't. That was a good one! Though it makes me really concerned that you choose to poke at my height rather than put me down or, say, kill me."

The man cocked his head to the side, his eyebrows furrowing. "I don't want to kill you."

"Scott, then?" She tried to pull his hands off her again but, like before, her strength was nothing compared to him. Her chest rose and fell rapidly once she released the breath she had held trying to exert as much force as possible on him. "I swear to fucking god if you put one hand on Scott McCall I'll kill you. You hear me? I'll kill you!"

He laughed; his lips stretching back to reveal a row of straight, white teeth. It was almost blinding beneath the fluorescents. "That's cute. It's almost…sad, really. Caring so much about someone who is more concerned about another. Someone from a line of hunters of all things. …That must hurt."

She winced, a squeak-like noise coming out of her throat when his nails dug into her skin in conjunction with the end of his sentence. She bit down on her lip, keeping any noise of pain from seeping out. A bead of something warm and wet rolling down her stomach and pooled in her belly button. The lump in her throat bobbed when she swallowed and she locked eyes with the man holding her.

"I can think of something that hurts a little bit worse," she grunted. His eyebrows lifted as he silently challenged her, wondering what could possibly hurt worse. She drew her leg back and shot it out, striking him right between the legs. She fell to the ground in a heap once he let her go, groaning as soon as her shoulder struck the ground. She rolled onto her side, peering up at the man to see him still holding onto the front of his pants. This was supposed to be the Alpha werewolf, wasn't it? "Seriously? That worked?" she muttered and scrambled to her feet.

Her heart pounded against her chest, almost matching the sounds of her shoes slapping against the floor as he ran. It felt like she was flying, she ran so fast. But this was a werewolf she was up against. An Alpha werewolf of all things. Running away only gave him something to chase, gave him a sort of game to win. It didn't take long for the man to catch up to her. A second, really. The time it took for her to blink.

Her fingers slipped against the handle of the door, her freedom slipping through her fingers when she felt a strong yank on her ankle. She slammed against the floor, her chin catching the brunt of the fall. Her teeth clamped down on her tongue and sunk in before she unclamped her jaw and pulled her now throbbing tongue back in. Her fingertips dragged against the floor as she tried to get away but a knee pressing into her spine kept her from moving.

"I don't know why they always run, it just makes things last much longer than they need to," the man's voice said, his mouth hovering by her ear. She jerked her head away but he grabbed her forehead, pulling her head back and exposing her neck. Her lower lip trembled as he reached forward and dragged the tips of his claws against his skin.

"If I'm going to die…don't I at least get to know who killed me?" she asked, doing her best to speak with her rapidly swelling tongue.

"I already told you, I'm not going to kill you. But I suppose pleasantries are in order. My name's Peter Hale. I'm sure Derek's spoken about me." Melanie's eyebrows crinkled and her eyes shifted from side to side as if searching for confirmation in the room. Above her she heard Peter gasp softly. "Not a word? Hmm, I have something I need to talk with him about. I always thought I was his favorite uncle."

The muscles in her arms tightened as she tried to push against the ground, but it was like trying to do a pushup with a metal case on her back. But still she tried and tried and tried until her arms collapsed and her cheek pressed against the dirty floor. Her tears spilled over her cheeks and her body convulsed with her quiet sobs. "What…what do you want from me?"

Peter tisked. "You don't know what you are, do you?" His claws pulled backwards, past her cheek and near her ear where he pulled her hair out of her face. She winced at the bright light that assaulted her red and burning eyes.

Her ears buzzed a low hum that matched the pitch of a light bulb. Her chest tightened and her blood ran cold. "What…what are you talking about?" she whispered, her shaky voice sliding across the surface of the floor.

"Huh. You really don't know. Didn't think I'd have to be the one to tell you. Oh well, this can be my act of charity for the day." The pressure on her spine increase as he shifted his position and removed his claws from the side of her head. She could feel the tip of one sliding down her back, tracing the top of her spine to the bottom. A zippering noise accompanied his trailing finger and it took her a second to realize it was the fabric of her shirt tearing beneath his claw.

Goosebumps erupted over her skin once her back was exposed to the cool air. With her remaining strength she pushed against the ground, straining to knock him off. Slipping his hand off her forehead, Peter grasped the back of her head and slammed it onto the ground. Stars burst before her eyes and her vision swam. "You're going to want to hold still," Peter advised. She could almost hear the smile in his words; the lack of warmth in his tone made her shiver. "This might hurt."

A scream ripped from her throat when he stabbed his claws into her back, right between her shoulder blades. Fire licked at the puncture wounds and they throbbed in time with her heart beat. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks and rolled along the curve of her chin; dirt stuck to her cheeks where the tear tracks lay. Her throat burned as another scream wracked her body when he dragged his nails down her back.

She felt her skin ripping apart; inch by inch every little bit of skin beneath his nails gave way to the torture of his sharp claw. Blood seeped out of her wounds, trailing down her sides and dripped onto the floor, adding color in the otherwise dreary room. Bright swam around in the darkness of Melanie's closed eyes which burst with each pulse of pain. It took a moment for her to realize the strange, wet sucking sound that filled the air was her. Every sobbing-breath she pushed out, she spat out blood. The metallic taste coated her tongue and filled her mouth with every breath. It mixed with her saliva and dribbled down her chin. Just kill me. Just kill me. JUST KILL ME!

Darkness seeped into her vision, a vignette effect blurring the edges. The once harsh fluorescents softened and the dirty locker-room faded away and was replaced by a string of memories: her three-year-old self running around the front yard, giggling as her parents chased her; her five-year-old self grinning from ear-to-ear as her neighbors cheered her on while riding a training wheel-less bike for the first time; her ten-year-old self meeting Erica for the first time; her eleven-year-old self getting first place in her first swim meet in Beacon Hills; the sleepovers she shared with Erica; the long phone conversations; the summer trips to the Reyes beach house; the first drive-thru run in her new truck; their trips to the county fair; getting her lacrosse jersey; getting Nova; having an actual conversation with Isaac at his house; her first game; watching her mom and dad dancing across their kitchen floor, large sun-filled smiles on their faces…

A weight pressed down on her chest. She felt as if she was breathing through a clogged straw. Her head pounded. Her chest tightened. The darkness grew and let in pinpoints of light. The humming in her ears faded until she couldn't hear anything, not her gaps for air, not Peter's breathing, nothing. It was like her head was being held underwater. She sunk even further in the darkness, a weightless sensation surrounded her. She was floating…

The weight on her back lifted with the simultaneous screech that bounced around the room. Melanie lay on the ground, her drying blood making her stick to the floor. The muffled sounds of a scuffle were punctuated by grunts of pain and slams against the nearby lockers. The smell of fresh blood wafted in the air. She didn't know it had a smell, but then her body ran cold. That could only mean there was a lot of blood split. Was it all hers? Most of it? How much had she lost? Even with the questions flying through her mind she didn't want the answers and rocked her head from side to side to get rid of them. She didn't want her last thoughts to be about blood. She wanted them to be about her friends, her family, Erica…

She blinked. Her world turned upside-down. The tile floor became the ceiling and her arms and legs dangled in air. Her eyebrows furrowed at the splatter of blood on the floor, the residue much darker than she ever imagined it would be. This wasn't the janitor's blood or the bus driver's blood. This was her blood.

"Don't worry, Hummingbird. You'll be okay." Melanie's half-lidded eyes rolled in her head before looking up. The darkness smudged away and she saw a familiar jaw line, saw familiar hair, saw familiar eyes looking back at her. Her eyes.

Her nose twitched and the sweet cologne settled in the back. Her lips pulled back in the corners as peace settled over her. "Daddy," she murmured, her voice a painful rasp. She snuggled closer to his chest and breathed out a sigh. She was okay, her daddy had her.

Wrapped in her father's arms she tried to look around, to find Peter and give him a well deserved middle finger to the eye but he was nowhere to be found. Relaxing, she settled in her father's strong grip and let her heavy eyes close.

When she opened them again light flickered across her face every few seconds. Her body rocked from side to side in a gentle motion and the fabric beneath her felt like a cloud. She tried to move her arms but they felt as if they were filled with sand. She couldn't feel her back; there was no pain or irritation at all, just a numb sensation. Flopping her arm over, her finger tips brushed against the edge of the…car seat? Her eyes narrowed. She heard cars whizzing past the window, heard soft rock seeping out of the speakers, and heard the occasional tick tick tick of the blinking turn signal. Her father's soft words filtered in through the darkness, "We're almost there, Hummingbird, just hold on."

"Okay Daddy," she conceded, lying down. Sleep took over once more.

When she awoke again it felt as if hours had gone by. Her eyes moved around the room to try and find a clock but they circled the room slowly. Her chest swelled and fluttered with the shaky breath that she breathed out, like her body was only waking up from a nap. "Dad?" she croaked, her heart jumping in her chest. Where was he? Where was she?

Shuffling footsteps sounded above her head and then fingers brushed against her forehead and caressed her hair. "I'm right here, Mel," he affirmed. She nestled her cheek into the cup of his palm as he stroked it with his thumb. "I'm right here."

"Where am I?"

"You're at the Animal Clinic," Dr. Deaton stated, stepping into view. "Your father brought you here as soon as possible."

"Why…why here? What…? I don't understand." Her fingers brushed against the back of her father's hand, his larger hand instantly curling around hers. She placed her free hand on the cool table she lay atop of and managed to get up into a sitting position. Pops zippered down her spine as she leaned forward. It made her pause.

Her eyebrows furrowed and it all came slamming back to her at once. Peter Hale showing up in the locker room after the game. Peter Hale slamming her head into the ground. Peter Hale digging his claws into her back. Peter Hale, Peter Hale, Peter Hale.

Her body seized with the strength of her gasp and she started patting the space around her. "Where's…where is it? Where is it?"

"Where's what?" Laurence asked.

"My phone! Peter Hale – The Alpha! Scott! I have to make sure Scott's okay!" She yanked the sheet on her legs upwards; it billowed and ripped like an ocean wave before settling back down. Whipping her arm out, she grabbed onto Laurence's arm, her fingernails digging into his skin, her eyes wide with "Where's my stuff? Dad, gimmie your phone! I have to text Scott. Peter's looking for him! I need to – he has to be okay!"

"Melanie—"

"Oh god, I hope nothing happened to him. I hope I didn't – but what if Peter? – Dad! You have to take me back to the school! If we get there soon enough maybe we can help him."

"Melanie—"

"He has to be okay, right? I mean, the Alpha wouldn't just attack in the middle of the night would he? …Okay, I guess maybe he would but – I just need to see that Scott's alright and not dying somewhere and—"

Removing his arm from his daughter's grasp, Laurence then leaned forward until their noses practically touched. "Melanie," he said firmly, his blue eyes flashing a bright violet, "I need you to calm. Down."

The trail of words died on her tongue as her muscles relaxed and her shoulders dropped. She felt as if she had been given a large dose of Xanax, all her anxieties melted away until it was replaced with a serene blanket resting atop of her. Laurence's eyes shifted back to their blue color as Dr. Deaton approached her.

"I know a lot has gone on and some of this will come as a shock to you, but rest assured I'm here to help," he said.

"How can you help?" Melanie asked, rubbing her forehead.

He gave a wry smile. "I've been dealing with the Supernatural for a long time. I've seen more than anything you could ever imagine. I can help with the Alpha and I can help with you too."

"Is that how…?" her words trailed off as she grabbed the front of the clean t-shirt she was wearing and looked down. The puncture marks on her chest were gone. Twisting this way and that she tried to see down the back of her shirt but she gave up after a couple of seconds. "I wasn't wearing this shirt earlier," she muttered, almost as an afterthought.

"Peter destroyed your shirt," Laurence replied.

"Damn. I liked that shirt." She shook her head and looked up at her dad. "I don't understand. I should…I should be dead right now. He scratched me up real bad. But I'm healed." Her eyes then moved over to Dr. Deaton. "I assume you helped with that?" He nodded and pressed his lips into a line.

"Melanie, listen to me." Laurence grasped her hand and squeezed it. Melanie's breath caught in her throat at his tone. The playful sparkle in his eye was long gone; it was replaced by a look of such seriousness that it made her heart skip a beat. "I know you have a lot of questions right now but you have to understand something. All of this that happened, what you went through tonight…it's because you're a siren." Her face scrunched up as his words settled upon her so he licked his lips and continued. "I'm one too. And I've been…monitoring you and your abilities. I didn't think they'd come so soon but, well, you've never been a patient one." He chuckled and ran a hand though his hair, studying Melanie's face for any sort of reaction.

She had sucked her lips into her mouth and her eyes were narrowed. Her fingers twitched by her side and she held her breath, scared that if she let it go even in the slightest then all of this would go away. And she'd find out that she was dreaming and would wake up any moment to have to relive the day. Her heart fluttered and her eyelashes followed due to the rapid blinking in her attempts for comprehension. This had to be what Peter Hale was talking about. She was a siren. Her dad was a siren. She was a siren.

"…That's so cool!" She burst out, a smile splitting across her face. Dr. Deaton's and Laurence's eyes narrowed and then they looked at one another. Not sensing the confusion surrounding them, her mouth continued to rattle off her thoughts. "I mean, I always thought I was weird but I didn't think I was weird. But, I mean, this makes a lot of sense now. I figure that's why I swim so well? And why I see well? And why I like to sing?"

"Actually, singing has nothing to do with it. That's you on your own," Laurence filled in, his words feeble. He was still reeling at how calmly she was taking the news. "See, sirens are known for luring people but what does the luring is different depending…" his words trailed off and he pulled his mouth in closer.

"Depending on what?" Melanie asked, bouncing on the table in her fascination.

Laurence sighed. "What type of siren you are."

Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. "There are different types?"

"Yes. Only two. That we know of so far, anyway. The Avian variety and the Mere variety."

"So…a bird or a fish," she filled in for him. She hummed, nodding and tapping her chin with her finger. "What kind are you?"

"Mere. But Melanie—"

"Wait, what am I then?"

"We don't know yet. It's a bit complicated. Before your powers are fully controlled you're one or the other. You depict characteristics of the Avian variety and the Mere variety up until you face a test that helps you decide."

"Like what?"

"Do you remember Persephone?"

Melanie's nose scrunched up as she thought. "She was taken to the Underworld by Hades."

"Do you remember the story of Sirens in the Persephone story?"

"Yeah. It was Ovid's depiction that said they were her human companions. After Hades took her they looked for her everywhere they could. Eventually they prayed for wings to fly across the sea to find her. Though some depictions have Demeter turning them into birds as punishment for not guarding her."

"Right." Laurence nodded. "In this sense, the Avian Sirens test comes in the form of protection. Their wings will come out when the time is right, when they are needed for protection. Mere Sirens, in contrast, are fighters. Their legs will be able to form into a fin when the time is right."

"Think of it as a Fight-or-Flight," Dr. Deaton spoke up. "Your instincts will help the choice get made for you. But remember, you are only half. You won't have the same strengths as someone who's a full Siren."

"Okay. So what was with that eye thing? They flashed like Scott's did—oh; by the way, he's a werewolf. Can you believe that?" She shook her head, blowing out a breath. "And people didn't believe me. You know, this totally means Harris could be a vampire."

"Vampires don't exist," Dr. Deaton informed.

"What!? How can werewolves and sirens exist but vampires don't? Is there some sort of supernatural rule I don't know about? But man, I don't know how I didn't see this coming! I mean, I did a project on Greek Mythology for Pete's sake—"

"Melanie!" Laurence cut in, his loud voice making her jump. All the energy that once flowed through her drained out. Her father's eyes, trained on her, were hard, cold. She hadn't heard him use that tone with her since she got suspended for punching Greenberg after he teased her for seeing a flash of her underwear when she was swinging in a skirt one day in elementary school. "Focus, please! I get this is exciting to you but you have to understand that this is dangerous. Peter went after you for a reason. You're in danger just as much as Scott is. If a harpy or a faerie ever come to Beacon Hills, you'll be their first target. If there are any other werewolves out there, you can't guarantee that they'll be on your side like Scott is. You have abilities that people will torture you or kill you over."

The light in Melanie's eyes faded, her shoulders slumped and her smile dropped as if a light had been switched off in her head. Her eyes shifted back and forth between her father and Dr. Deaton. The energy that had bounced around her came to a complete standstill and a lump as hard as a rock settled in her throat. She licked her lips and pushed a hand through her hair, pulling on the end.

Laurence leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead and held her close, nuzzling his nose into her hair. "I know it's a lot to take in, but I'm here to help you. Dr. Deaton as well. You can always come to us."

She nodded against his embrace. Her thoughts whirled around in her mind but nothing stuck as hard as she tried to get them to slow down. Their pace was dizzying and the noise in her head was that of a storm brewing. No one should be subjected to feeling so many emotions in a short span on time; she felt like she had just stepped off a rollercoaster: battered and worn out. Her stomach growled. She could really go for some burgers.

"Oh no!" Melanie gasped, jerking away from her father. "Erica! Shit! I was supposed to go have ice cream with her!" She slapped her hands to her face and dragged her fingers down her skin, pulling down her eyelids and her mouth, groaning all the while. "She's going to hate me. I stood her up! Oh God. Dad, I need to go to her house right now."

"It's eleven, sweetie. It's too late, you can see her tomorrow."

"No! I need to see her now! You don't understand!" She swung her legs over the side of the table and hopped down, only to fall straight to her knees when her legs gave out. "Whoa," she muttered, all the strength leaving her at once.

"You need your rest," Dr. Deaton informed her, helping her to her feet. "You lost a lot of blood today and you need time to recuperate from your wounds. You skin may have healed due to some help but you need to heal internally."

She blew out a breath. If that's what they wanted, who was she to argue? She should be dead and lying on the floor of the locker room. But she wasn't, she was still here, still alive. She was a little less human than she was when she woke up that morning but that couldn't be too hard of a hurdle to jump over.

# # #

The fuzzy haze of sleep lifted from Melanie's eyes the next morning with flames licking her back. She writhed on her bed, her fingers digging into the fabric of her top blanket. Her stomach rumbled and then, with a sharp twist, pressure built in her throat. It lifted upwards, cutting off her scream with a loud gurgling. Throwing her head over the side of the bed, Melanie opened her mouth wide and could only w watch as a black liquid splattered against her floor. Her stomach and body seized as the black substance continued to fall out her throat, burning as it seeped past her lips.

Her bedroom door burst open and her father knelt by her side, rubbing between her shoulder blades. "You're alright, sweetie. You're alright," he murmured, watching as the pool beneath her bed grew with each retching sound that filled the air.

The brackish taste lingered on her tongue long after her body stopped forcing it up. It was almost as bad as tasting black licorice for the first time, just ten times worse. And no matter how many times she ran her tongue against tissues to get the black stuff off the taste wouldn't go away. "What…what the hell was that?" she rasped, spitting out on the floor.

"Your body healing," Laurence replied. "Peter's claws got in deep. You were releasing the last of the bad blood in you."

"How deep?" she asked, brushing her hair out of her face. "Am I going to turn into some weird…bird, fish, dog chimera thingy?"

Laurence chuckled and then rubbed his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. "No, that's not going to happen. The worst is over now. You should feel back to normal soon."

"Good. So I can go to Erica's." She pushed herself up with shaky arms and managed to sit up all the way. At the disapproving look on her father's face she protested, "Dad! Come on! She won't answer my texts. I've filled her voice inbox. I need to see her. I can't…" She swallowed and then gagged at the salty taste that slid back down her throat. Pressing the back of her hand to her mouth she managed to utter, "She can't be mad at me." Laurence pressed his lips together. "Would you keep me from seeing Mom?"

"Of course not," he replied.

"I love Mom. And I love Erica. What's the difference?" she stressed.

His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head to the side, studying her. She lifted her eyebrows, waiting for a response. But when he finally did respond it made her body shake with a hard jolt, "I don't know. You tell me." Whoever said words couldn't be used as weapons clearly lied through their teeth.

She pulled at the thread in her pants. "You said she was going to be okay," she said, her voice harder than it was before.

"She will be."

"The thing is…if I don't talk to Erica, I'm not so sure she will be." She lifted her eyes and locked them with her father's. "I'll go see Mom, I promise. Just…let me see Erica first. Please."

Laurence placed his hands on his knees and stood. He held onto his daughter's gaze for a minute longer before turning around and leaving the room, his arms crossed over his chest. She listened as he moved through the house, headed downstairs, paused to say something to Nova, and then walked out the front door. It closed with a nearly silent click and then she heard the distinct sound of his SUV starting up before that, too, faded into the distance.

She reached past the puddle of black goo on the ground and grabbed her phone, checking the screen again. Still no answered texts. Swiping across the screen with her thumb, she paused at the picture on her home screen of her and Erica wearing Minnie Mouse ears and making faces at the camera. Forcing her thumb, she tapped it against her messenger app and waited for it to load. Maybe she had missed a reply earlier? But her shoulders sagged when she saw that nothing new had come in. Erica's name was still third on the list of contacts on her phone that she had recently texted. Stiles was at the top, telling her that he was okay and Scott was beneath it echoing his friend's statement in the same short message. As much as she wanted to go and talk to them, and kick them in the asses for being such boys, she knew it had to wait.

She jumped in the shower and changed into a simple pair of jean shorts, a graphic tee, a light jacket, and her bright blue doc martens and did her best to clean up the mess on the floor. She was glad to have hardwood rather than carpet or else it would have been a nightmare to clean. Scrubbing black vomit off the ground wasn't at the top of her list of things to do; scrubbing it out of carpet was even lower.

She made sure to feed Nova and put him up in his kennel before leaving the house and jumping into her truck. She whirled around only to pause when she noticed her lacrosse bag on the back seat. Her fingers curled into the headrest of the passenger seat at the sight of it. She clenched her jaw, feeling a muscle twitch before pressing on the gas and reversing out of her driveway.

It didn't take long for her to get to Erica's house, she was just glad no police officer's were out or else she was sure she would have been pulled over. She barely had the car in park when she flung the door open and jumped out. Stuffing her keys in her pocket, she approached the front door but then paused. Tilting her head back, she looked up at Erica's window, clicked her tongue once, and then backed up. Rolling her shoulders she then did a running start and jumped.

To her surprise, she soared higher in the air than she expected and landed on the roof in front of Erica's window with ease. She looked over her shoulder at the ground and then down at the roof beneath her. If she weren't so afraid of falling off she would have clicked her heels in the air. She made a mental note to do it later and climbed in through the window.

"Why can't you knock like a normal person?" Erica asked from her bed, pausing in her sewing. In one hand was a needle, gleaming in the sunlight, and the other was a mass of red fabric.

"Uh…I don't think I fit into the category of a normal person," Melanie replied, tumbling in through the window. Her cheeks were still flushed red from jumping up onto the roof with ease. "You're talking to me?"

Erica resumed her sewing. "Why wouldn't I be?" It was a simple question but it was loaded. Melanie could practically see Erica's finger twitching on a trigger, waiting to pull it.

"…You know."

"If you're referring to how you ditched me, I would stop talking to you if I was surprised but…I'm not."

Melanie sat on the edge of Erica's bed, wringing her hands together. "I didn't do it on purpose." Erica snorted. "Eri, c'mon. It's me. I wouldn't leave you alone like that if it weren't for a really good reason."

"You could have called me."

"I…I couldn't." Partially because I was dying in the locker room, like what always happens on a normal day.

"Why? What was so important?" Erica dropped her hands into her lap, her words clipped. Melanie winced at the cold tone that latched onto her words. "Wait, don't tell me. Scott needed something? Or maybe Stiles. Lydia? Allison? Oh, no, maybe Isaac needed your attention. Because all of them are more important than me, right?"

"Of course not! I just…I can't help that I have a lot of friends," Melanie replied. Then her nose wrinkled and she said, "Okay, calling Lydia and Allison my friend is a bit of a stretch. Lydia's just…Lydia and Allison…. I mean, I don't not like her it's just…Jesus! She's so good at everything! Like, geeze, can't she be bad at one thing? Just one, so I know she's human? Pick her nose and eat it, maybe?"

Erica rolled her eyes. "Stop using that excuse! I know you have other friends. I get it. I'm happy that you have other friends, because then they see what I see in you."

"I'm not replacing you, if that's what you think. No one could ever replace you, Erica."

"How about Isaac?" Melanie eyebrow's crinkled. "You keep…inviting him to stuff that we had already planned. It's not that I don't like him, he seems like a nice guy, but I want to spend time with just you."

"I'm trying to keep him out of his house!" Melanie insisted. "You've heard the rumors. What if they're true? What if his dad is actually hitting him? I can't…I can't just let him go back there and wait for the bomb to go off."

"It's not your problem, Mel!" Erica pointed out, her cheeks reddening by the second due to the force in her voice. "You can't save everyone."

"Why can't I try?" Melanie demanded. "If I can help someone have a good point in their day, what's so bad about that? I always do it for you!"

"Oh my god!" In a huff, Erica threw her sewing kit and the fabric aside and grabbed at her hair. "Am I your friend or your charity case? 'Cause sometimes, I can't tell the difference. Who are you doing a favor for, for being my friend? Me? 'Cause if that's the case I'd rather be alone than have a friend like that."

Melanie felt as if she had been punched in the gut or stabbed with the needle that Erica had been holding. She may as well have been as she stared at her friend. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. She was supposed to go see Eric and apologize and they would go back to normal and look forward to the upcoming formal. Why wasn't everything going back to normal? Why wasn't it working this time? Why wasn't anything working?

"Where's-where's this coming from?" Melanie asked, her inquiry laced with confusion. "Why are you bringing this up all of a sudden?"

Erica snorted. She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Her eyes looked off into the distance as she shook her head. "It's not all of a sudden; you just haven't been paying attention."

"Is this still about that whole Lydia thing?"

Huffing, Erica flopped back against her pillows. "It's bigger than that, Mel."

"Then explain it to me 'cause I can't read your mind, Eri. I don't know what's bothering you."

"You used to be able to tell." She brushed her nose against her arm and when Erica spoke again her words were thick with controlled emotion. "You used to know everything about me. You could tell when I was upset and what upset me but now it's like you're always preoccupied."

Melanie gathered up her hair and pulled it to the other side of her neck. She rubbed at her eyes and briefly pressed her palms into them. This couldn't be happening. Not now. She didn't need something else piling up on her plate, it was already too top heavy.

"Okay, if it's more attention you want—"

"That's not it!" She pressed her fist into her mouth for a brief moment and then continued, "You know, we shouldn't be friends." A sad sort of smile appeared on her face. "We don't like the same things. Not all of them, anyway. We used to hate each other, remember?"

"Yeah. You kept saying that the Backstreet Boys were better than *NSYNC and I threw mud at you for it," Melanie recalled. "But then your mom brought out sugar cookies and purple Kool-Aid and we stopped fighting."

"Our moms kept making us have play dates and eventually we found things we had in common: favorite movies, TV shows, belief in things, laughing at stupid things. The rest, well, we couldn't be more different." She shook her head and swallowed. "My mom used to say we were like the sun and the moon. Two different entities but needed to form something whole. I didn't get it before but it makes sense now. You're the push I need to do something I normally wouldn't and I stop you from going completely off the walls. You protect me and I support you. But that's the problem. You protect me."

"I…Erica, how's that a bad thing?"

"I don't want to be protected! I don't want you to always have to watch over me. I don't want you to keep checking if I'm taking my medicine or eating right or…or constantly have to build me up like it's your job."

"It's not—"

Erica held up her hand. "Let me finish, please!" She sucked in a hard breath through her nose and let it out. "I don't like knowing that I can't control anything. That I can't be normal. That I constantly need you and my mom to look after me like I'm some…sick kid. Because when you do that, you dismiss me."

"Okay, that's not true!" Melanie protested. She could feel a burning prickle at the back of her eyes and she blinked rapidly to try and get it to go away. But it was hard when Erica was unloading on her, and she sucked up all the pain and hurt that Erica was unleashing.

"It is and you know it! You've always done it. Whenever I'm upset about something or something bothers me, you keep telling me I'm silly or that I don't know what I'm talking about or that I'm worried about nothing. It's not nothing to me. Seeing you running off with Scott and Stiles all the time? Hanging out with Allison? Letting Lydia put makeup on you? They're small, yes, to you. These things…they hurt me. And you don't care."

"Yes I do!" Melanie burst out, the tears now falling down her face, leaving fresh tracks behind. "Erica, you're my best friend. I always care about you. I don't…I didn't even notice I was…" She brushed her arm across her eyes, her skin smearing the tears. "The only thing I've been trying to do is get you to become the Erica I know you can be. You're so funny and smart and awesome but you don't believe it. That's all I was trying to do, get you to believe it."

"But sometimes I don't want to! Sometimes I just want you to listen to me and accept how I feel! You and my mom…you both don't get the other side of what you do."

"I'm only trying to help," Melanie pointed out, her voice a whimper.

"What's helpful to you doesn't always help me," Erica replied, her voice shook as well. "I'm not fragile. I'm epileptic. That's all. I can still do things. I'm not my condition but no one lets me forget that I have it. Especially you. That's not what my friend is supposed to do. She's supposed to support me—" Erica held up her finger to keep Melanie from protesting—"without the pity."

Any other protest that tried to come out of her mouth died before they formed. What was the point? Erica's mind was made and that sucked. No, it hurt. She and Erica had fought before but this wasn't a normal fight. Erica actually thought that Melanie sucked as a friend. She grabbed at her hair and shook her head. This couldn't be happening! All she ever wanted was for Erica to like herself, but all she did was make her hate herself.

What kind of friend was she?

"Why…why are you bringing this up now?" Melanie asked, her voice small. The echo bounced around in the chasm that formed between them.

"You didn't show up." Erica shrugged, wiping her own eyes. "Didn't take much for the camel's back to break. Had years of shit piling up."

Melanie twisted her fingers together, squeezing her eyes tight to ebb the flow of her tears. "D'you want to know why I didn't show up?"

"You had something better to do?" Erica guessed.

Melanie didn't miss the bitterness in her voice but continued. "No. It's…" she paused. She knew what she wanted to do. She knew it was the right thing to do. But would Erica believe her? Her claims had been dismissed in the pat as mere fairytales but they were as real as the ache in her chest. She didn't know what she'd do if Erica didn't believe her but she had to try anyway. She had to give Erica the truth for once. "It's…because I almost died last night."

Erica's brown eyes narrowed. Melanie could see suspicion and a little bit of concern in her eyes and wished it were the other way around but beggars couldn't be choosers. "…What?"

"I was in the locker room after the game. After I showered I was going to meet you but then someone was in there." Melanie wiped her palms on her legs and then crossed them; shifting so she wouldn't fall off the bed. "Some guy. No! Don't worry, he didn't try to…y'know," she added at the widening of Erica's eyes. "But he kept saying that I didn't know what I was. And then he attacked me. With claws." At the incredulous look forming on Erica's face she sped through the rest of her explanation, "He scratched up my back real bad. I thought I was dying. My dad saved me with some help. I wanted to come see you but my dad wouldn't let me. And he told me…there was a reason why I was attacked."

"Wait, what? Why would someone want to attack you?" Erica asked.

Melanie licked her lips and swallowed, her toes curling over the edge of the cliff. She brought her thumb up to her teeth and bit down. Her eyes dropped to gaze at the depths of the fall beneath her and only when Erica slid her hand in hers did she look up. Erica's gaze, now softened, moved over her, as if searching for something. Releasing a sigh, she gripped Erica's hand tighter and stepped over the edge.

"Because…I'm a siren," Melanie replied.

Erica froze for a second. Her eyes narrowed even further and her lips parted. Then she laughed and took her hand away. Melanie's fingers curled against the empty space. "Yeah, right. Come on, Mel, can't you be serious for once?"

"I am!" Melanie insisted. "I swear to you, Erica, I'm not making this up."

She waved her hand away and climbed off the bed, pacing. "This is just like all your other stories. Like Harris and Scott. You can't get out of me being mad at you!" She scoffed. "Seriously, trying to make me feel guilty over something you did?"

"Erica Nicole Reyes, why the hell would I lie about being attacked by someone?" Melanie shouted, jumping to her feet. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"I don't know!" She threw her arms into the air. "I don't know, Mel. It's pretty sick of you to do."

"Does this sound like something I'd do to you? Really, Eri? Think long and hard about that. You can't really believe that."

"I don't know what to believe anymore, frankly." Erica crossed her arms, her shifting weight causing one hip to pop out at the side.

Melanie's mouth turned to the side. "Do you believe that I love you?" Erica's head cocked to the side. "That I care about you? That I only want you to be happy? That I want you to see yourself the way I do? That I would never lie about something like this? Because part of me finds this super cool and I wanted to share it with my friend but the other part is super confused about it all and I have no idea what to do and all I wanted to do was talk to my best friend. …If I can still call you that."

Erica's hands brushed her sides when she dropped them. Her head rolled to the other side and her brown eyes moved as if searching Melanie from head to toe. Melanie held her breath, waiting. Her fingers twitched by her side. You have to believe me, Erica. You have to…

"You're a siren," she finally stated.

Melanie nodded. "It would explain a lot."

"It would," Erica agreed. "So…what can you do?"

"Uhm. That I don't know yet. Besides swim and sing, but Dad says singing has nothing to do with it."

"Interesting." She went back to her bed and pulled her comforter down, rolling the fabric up at the bottom. She sat down atop of her sheet and reached beneath her bed, pulling out her laptop. Once it was set up on the bed she then reached for her glasses on the nightstand, gave her head a shake to move the hair out of the way, and then put them on, lifting them up her nose with her index finger.

"What are you doing?"

Erica didn't reply at first, the silence between them filled with her rapid tapping on her keyboard. But when she did there was a determination in her voice she hadn't heard in a while. "You know about creatures and stuff from books you've read. When they're not basic encyclopedias they only cover Classical Mythology. Well, there are many different mythologies out there and it'll take too long to go to the library to find books." She chuckled. "Thank God for Google."

Emitting a very Erica-like squeal, Melanie jumped onto the bed and hugged Erica tight. She let out a large sigh of relief now that her chest was free of the weight that sat upon it. One of them, anyway. But it was enough to get her breathing again. Enough to get her heart beating again. It was a bit more rapid of a heartbeat than usual but she chalked it up to being excited about Erica helping her out. Easy.

# # #

It was dark by the time Melanie left Erica's house. Her eyes hurt from staring at a computer screen for so long but it was worth it, leaving with her friendship intact and with more information in her glove box than she ever could have found on her own. She swore Erica even hacked into some protected network at one point just to find some information. She knew Erica was smart in some areas but that was eye opening. "I need to do something to fill my free time," she had said coupled with a nonchalant shrug.

She waved out the window to Erica standing on the front porch and pulled out of the driveway in one swift motion, cringing when she ran over the curb. She tapped the horn twice and drove down the road, the sound of the tires crunching over the driveway infiltrated the music that poured out of her windows.

The crisp night air caressed her face as she rode down the street. She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel and bopped her head along to the bouncy song that played. As she came to a stop at the end of the street her phone vibrated in the cup holder and she saw her father's name come up on the screen. She checked the screen and saw that he had left a text, asking her to come home so they could talk. She was about to reply to the text when her eyes caught sight of Stiles's name on her list. Her thumbs hovered over the buttons and then she hummed. Backing out of his message, she selected the last conversation she had with Stiles and then typed in response to him.

Mel: I'm coming over. Need to talk to you. Important!

Stiles replied almost immediately. Her phone buzzed in her hand, making her jump and accidentally hit the horn. "Geeze, attached to your phone there buddy?" she commented beneath her breath and opened his response.

Stiles: Well who can argue with that argument?

She could almost feel the sarcasm oozing from his words. Rolling her eyes, she set her phone down and took a left hand turn instead of a right. The entire drive to the Stilinski house, she had her thumbnail wedged between her teeth. By the time she arrived the top had been chewed and she was spitting bits out onto the floor of her truck.

"Geeze, Stiles, you couldn't give me a head's up that everything was fine with you? No text? No call? After you were gone last night?" Melanie ranted as soon as he opened the door. She barged past him and began pacing. "Dear God, Stiles, so much shit went down! Why weren't you at the game? We won, by the way. It was a near shutout but a lot of people got hurt in the process. It's just…geeze, so much stuff! Can I come in?"

Stiles looked at her as if she were crazy, which she probably thought would be a fair assessment, as he closed the door. "You're already in," he pointed out.

"I am?" Melanie then looked around, noting the entry way and the kitchen nearby. "Huh. Didn't notice. Anyway!" She reached out and slapped him on the arm with the back of her hand. "Where were you?"

"Ow! God, woman, put down the claws!" he grumbled, rubbing his arm. "I was looking into something." Grasping the inside of her arm, he pulled her along with him to the stairs and then up to his room. Only once the door was closed and he rubbed his hand over his mouth did he speak again. "Do you remember that night in school? When we were attacked?"

"Yeah, I've had nightmares," Melanie replied, dropping down onto his bed. She picked up a shirt off the end of it and began to fold it.

Stiles faltered at her blunt answer but quickly kept going. "Remember that text Allison was talking about? She said that Scott had texted her but it wasn't him. He wouldn't have asked her to come to the school with the Alpha running around. So after school I tried to find who sent it."

She put the shirt aside. Now he was saying something interesting. "And?" she asked, her eyebrows widening. "What'd you find out?"

"Well, with Danny's help I—"

"How'd you get Danny to help you? Danny hates you," Melanie pointed out.

"I don't need you to tell me that," Stiles replied, causing her to give a snort-like laugh. "And I kinda used Derek as bait."

"Ooh, good call. I don't blame Danny for that. Not one bit." A smirk slowly began to appear on Melanie's face as her eyes turned to look off in the distance but it fell almost instantly when Stiles made a noise of disbelief. "Sorry." She cleared her throat. "Continue."

"Anyway! We traced the call and the text came from Scott's mom." Melanie's face pulled to one side and she had to shake her head to get enough space to even entertain the idea that Mrs. McCall sent the text. "Yeah, I know. We thought it was weird too so Derek and I went to the hospital to check it out. Well, we found the Alpha instead. Surprise! It's Derek's uncle, Peter! The burn victim!"

The last time he had told her news about a Hale she hadn't reacted in the way he expected and she knew it let the wind out of his sails. Despite already knowing this, she pretended to be shocked for his sake. "What!? No way! What happened?"

"Well, Peter has a few anger issues so he tried to attack me. Derek tired to hold him off but, y'know being an Alpha, Peter was stronger than him. Long story short, they're now working together and they're trying to get Scott to join his pack because Scott's his beta."

"Scott's not going to do it, is he?" Her teeth pulled against her lower lip and her fingers pulled on the hem of her shirt. He couldn't go with a guy like that! He just couldn't!

"No, he's not, thankfully," Stiles replied. "But Peter's not going to let that go. I can tell. Seems like a Hale trait, holding grudges and being all…broody." He pulled a face and then sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. "I almost died over a lacrosse game. What a trade."

"About that, I'm sorry Stiles, I had to go in for you," Melanie spoke up. Stiles blinked. "I didn't want to. Coach made me. I didn't want to take your spot but we were down a lot of people. He was desperate, apparently. It was your first chance at First Line, you should have been playing. Please don't be mad at me."

"Be mad at…?" He shook his head and put his hands on her shoulders, giving her a little shake. "Mels, you've always wanted to play on the team. You got the chance! You shouldn't worry about me. I'll get another chance to play again, hopefully. And from what I hear, you were pretty good. Enjoy your moment, don't let me ruin it. There'll be other games. Like the away game next week." When her expression didn't change he shook her shoulders again. "Come on, give me a smile. Give me a smile. You can do better than that. Oh! Oh! There it is!" He lifted his hands to her face and used his thumbs to pull her lips upwards. "Relax, I'm not mad." He dropped his hands. "You said you wanted to talk about something."

"Yeah." She clasped her hands together and dropped them onto her lap. "After the game…I was attacked. By…Peter."

"By Peter…? Why didn't you say anything? Are you okay!? Does Scott know?"

"No, I haven't told him yet. I didn't want him to worry. Or you. And…I'm still trying to process some stuff."

"Like what?"

She took a deep breath and told him what happened. Well, part of it. How Peter had attacked her after the game, had alluded to her being something, had tried to kill her until her father intervened. She explained how he then revealed what she was and how there were different types and that Peter, or any other bad werewolf, would come after her again because of something she could do. She would have added in Dr. Deaton and his position in the supernatural world but she kept quiet. That was his secret to tell.

"Wait, okay, let me get this straight. You're a…a siren," Stiles said after his brief lapse of speechlessness. "And your dad is a siren. So you're half siren."

"Right." Melanie nodded.

"And there are two different types of sirens but you don't know which one you are. But either way, you're something that werewolves would want to kill."

"Right."

"So why hasn't Scott tried to kill you? Or Derek?"

"They don't know what I am. Peter's the only one who seemed to have a clue. I guess he…smelled me, or something? I don't know. Scott is new to the whole wolf thing, so he probably wouldn't know what to look for. As for Derek…he's less of a psycho? I dunno."

"Yeah, well, him being less of a psycho still isn't the best thing we can hope for." Stiles rubbed his hands over his short hair and blew out a breath, his lips vibrating. "Okay, well, does your mom know?"

Melanie shrugged. "Couldn't tell you. Haven't talked to her."

He blinked. "You still haven't seen her?"

She shook her head. "I've kinda been busy trying not to die."

"Well, you're with me now. Why don't I take you to the hospital and—"

"No!" she protested. His eyebrows rose and she cleared her throat. "We're going to find Scott and tell him what's going on."

"You can call him."

"I can call my mom too, what's your point?"

"My point is that you should probably go see her. I'm sure she wants to see you. Wants you there with her. And your dad. Wants your family there. It sucks being in hospitals alone. Trust me." He raised his fist to his mouth, blocking it as he coughed to clear his throat, his eyes moving to a picture on his bedside table. "You get scared. Waiting for some sort of news. Any sort. All you see…are people walking up and down the halls, minding their own business. Because things are going according to plan to them. But, unbeknownst to them, around them someone else's world is falling apart at the seams." He picked up the picture and ran his thumb over it before handing it to her.

Melanie stared down at the Stilinski family from seven years ago. With their bright smiles and sparkling eyes and tight hold around one another. He looked like his mom, with the same mouth, the same eyes, the same button nose. She was a beauty with cascading chocolate-colored hair and kind eyes that made anyone they rested on feel loved. Stiles absolutely adored her; she remembered him talking about her all the time. And then when she passed it was almost as if a part of him had died too.

"…The thing is, with the hurricane surrounding you, there's always going to be a point where the eye passes over." Stiles pulled at his fingers, moving to the next one when he heard a satisfying pop. "The point where you decide to fight back, see things for what it's worth, or turn the other way. Ignorance is bliss, they say, but it's not. Ignorance does nothing but make the pain stick worse when you're forced to stop running. It's a bitch, really."

"You know…I don't like it when people are down or upset about something. Because I know that they can get through it. After all, they've made it to this very moment. This point in time, they've made it through many things they thought they wouldn't be able to get through. They're so strong. And they're here. "

"Right…"

"I keep telling them that it's alright, it's all going to be okay, and everything will work out…." She clicked her tongue, running her thumb over the edge of the frame in her hands. "Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

"…How come no one ever says it to me?" She turned her blue eyes over to him which was filled with an ocean of unrestrained sadness. "I need to hear it sometimes. How come no one ever tells me it's going to be okay? Why does everybody else get to hear it but not me?" She sucked in a breath and once she let it out it was shaky. Her fingers gripped the picture frame so hard her knuckles turned white. "My mom is in the hospital and…and I can't see her because I'm too fucking mad at her. I'm too mad at my mom to see her and people keep telling me that she'll be okay…but I don't think I will be. My mom tried to kill herself, Stiles. Am I supposed to just accept that? She tried to…to leave this world. Something happened that she didn't think she could keep going and couldn't get through it and just wanted it all to end. My mom. And then I get pissed at myself for being concerned about people not caring about my feelings on the matter and being a selfish asshole and…grrrrr."

"You're not an asshole, so you can stop that right there," Stiles said, his voice firm. "No one can make you feel guilty for the way you react to things. And guess what?"

"What?" She held the picture frame out to him. He took it and carefully set it back down on his table. He dropped on the bed next to her and draped his arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze.

"Everything will be okay," he told her.

She cracked a small smile. "Thanks, Piles."

"You're welcome, Smells." He hugged her to his side again only to withdraw his arm when his phone rang. Frowning at the screen, he pressed a button and lifted the phone to his ear. "Hey Scott, what's up?" His once jovial tone turned as he yelled into the phone and jumped to his feet, nearly knocking Melanie over in the process. "Okay, I'm on it. Don't worry." He jabbed the screen with his thumb in a rapid attempt to hang up.

"What's up?" Melanie asked, all traces of previous dismay washing off as her heart revved up.

"It's Scott's mom. She's on a date with Peter!"

"What!?"

"I know! Let's go! We have to stop them!"

Melanie scrambled to her feet and was hot on Stiles's heels as they ran out of the house. She haphazardly crawled and dove in through the window of the passenger side door in an attempt to save time by opening the door. She ended up looking like a bug in the process.

"Don't say a word, just drive," she said to Stiles as she rolled over, nearly kicking him in the head.

Muttering something beneath his breath, he buckled himself in and pulled on the gearshift. The jeep shuddered to life and with a loud grinding sound it started forward. Melanie righted herself and buckled into the seat. Her wind whipped around her face as Stiles raced forward.

"Do we even know where they're going?" Stiles asked.

"They just left so let's go to Scott's house and see if we pass them and then follow them," she suggested.

At those words, Stiles wrenched the wheel to take a hard turn, slamming her into the door. He threw out a quick apology and pressed his foot down on the gas pedal, surging them forward. His jaw clenched and a rosy tint settled in his cheeks. She drummed her fingers against the windowsill, her eyes trained on the illuminated road ahead of them. Oh, please let us make it there in time. Please. Please.

She closed her eyes as she repeated that wish in her head, almost chanting. Her fingers wrapped around the cool pendant that hung around her neck. Colors swam in front of her eyes and a dull ache settled in her head. Her nose wrinkled and she squeezed tighter. The reds and oranges melded into a light purple while the blues and greens faded away. The black and the purple swirled and danced around one another and the ache in her head grew stronger.

"Stiles," she grunted.

"We're almost there. I think we can catch them."

Her fingers gripped the windowsill tighter. "Stiles!" The black faded away and the purple took its place, a subtle hue that brightened by the second. Her head pounded and a wave of nausea crashed around inside her. She swore her skull was going to split open any second.

"What?" His voice got louder; she could practically see him turning his head to look at her.

"Something's wrong!" Finally her eyes snapped open and a violet haze filled her vision. But, instead of seeing the road as she expected she saw a cell phone. Delicate hands turning a cell phone over and over, playing with it out of nerves.

"What do you mean something's wro…whoa! Your eyes are purple!"

"I-I'm seeing something. Someone playing with their cell phone. I…I can feel their nerves." Melanie's chest heaved with her heavy breaths. She swallowed, trying to calm herself down but the anxiety spread through her like spilled water.

"What? What do you mean?"

"I think…I'm seeing what someone else is seeing," she whispered. "But I can't…I can't tell who it is."

"Well, what else are you seeing? Landmarks? Road signs? Anything?"

Melanie shook her head, her violet eyes moving as if searching for something to land on. "No, just the cell phone. They're bringing up a map. I think they're lost. …They're trying to find a restaurant." She squinted and watched as the hands typed in something in the Google search bar. — "Firebelly! They're looking for Firebelly!"

"That grill in town?"

"Yeah. I think…wait…" Melanie's body seized with the hard gasp she inhaled once her vision turned and she saw the companion. "Peter!"

"Peter!? Where?"

"In the car!" Melanie reached out, her hands fumbling over the center console until they brushed the sleeve of Stiles' plaid shirt and dug her fingers into it. "I…Stiles, I'm seeing what Ms. Melissa is seeing. She's with Peter! They're parked on the side of the road somewhere. He said something… She's nervous. I can feel that she's nervous."

"Where are they? C'mon, Mel, where are they?"

"I don't know! I'm…I'm trying!" Sweat beaded at her hairline. Pain thumped in her temples and she swallowed hard to keep the bile down. She sucked in a breath, waiting for the eyes to turn back and…ah ha! "Her GPS is on! The location…" Her eyebrows furrowed and she gritted her teeth. Come on, come on, where are they…? Melissa's eyes rested on the phone again and Melanie pushed a hissing breath out from between her teeth. "Delany Street!" She blurted out.

Pain exploded in her head and she felt all energy draining from her, causing her to slump in her seat. The seatbelt caught her and as she took in another large breath the violet in her vision disappeared. The street in front of them was illuminated with the high beams from Stiles' jeep and the steady blinking of his hazard lights. They had pulled over to the side of the road.

"Are you okay?" Stiles started to turn away from the steering wheel but she increased her grip on his shirt.

"I'm alright," she replied, the nausea still flowing around inside her. The sweat made her bangs stick to her forehead, irritating the skin. She didn't have the strength to scratch. "I'm alright. Just go. They're on Delaney Street. We still have time to save Ms. Melissa."

"Right, got it," Stiles replied, jabbing his finger in the hazard lights button and stomping his foot on the gas pedal. The sudden lurch didn't help her nausea some but she didn't care. She could stick her head out the window and pray that the cool air would calm her down later. Melissa was more important right now.


a/n - Well, this chapter turned out muuuuuuuuuch longer than I intended. I was going to break it up at one point but then I decided against it since it's all so important! What did you think of the scene with Peter? And Erica unloading everything on Melanie? And her talk with Stiles? I love writing the two together, there's something about them sharing vulnerability regarding their families I find sweet. Their relationship is just fun to write. Now, her powers! We finally learn that she's a siren, yay! But she's going to have many challenges in her way trying to figure out which one she is and how she fits in the world of the supernatural.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! You have an away lacrosse game and the formal in up coming chapters to look forward too. More Jackson, Danny, and Isaac will be brought in as well. Please read and review!

~Musings

*Revised 10/5/17*