Chapter 22: The Caged Bird

"Why are you making cookies at six in the morning?" Isaac sauntered into the kitchen, digging his fingers in his eyes as he yawned. He ran a hand though his curly hair and pulled on it and then dropped into a chair at the bar counter. He reached out for a cookie sitting on a pan only to recoil when the back of his hand was slapped by a spatula.

"Couldn't sleep," she replied, lifting a cookie off the tray and set it down on a plate. She paused, looked at him from beneath her lashes, and added in a sheepish manner, "And…I'm not allowed to drink coffee. So this keeps me up and I get a treat out of it. Are you hungry?"

"That depends, are you going to slap me again?" he asked, rubbing the back of his hand. She stuck her tongue out at him and grabbed the plate nearby that was loaded with eggs, toast, potatoes, and sausage and set it in front of him. "Oh, um…you didn't have to do this."

"I don't have to sing in the shower either but I do it anyway. Why? Because it makes me happy. And besides, you're my guest!" Melanie replied, almost appalled at the very notion of not doing something for him. "I'm not just going to let you spend the night and then kick you out."

"Not before I pay you, anyway," he cracked, poking at the eggs with a fork, "which reminds me, which would you prefer: hot chocolate or brownies?" He chuckled and ate the eggs sitting on his fork, not noticing the strained smile on her face. "Thanks. For everything."

She had started to say "no problem" but the words quickly died on her tongue. He already felt as if he was in the way, what if he felt like he was a problem too? Like his whole existence was a problem? She didn't want to add onto that, because he wasn't a problem. In fact, she was pretty fond of his existence. "My pleasure," she finally replied, an easy smile breaking through her previous smile.

She stood up straight and perked up like a dog when she heard the three beeps that signaled the house alarm had been turned off, which was quickly followed by the sound of a key in the lock. As she went back to taking the cookies off the tray she called out, "Hey dad," and licked her thumb. "We're in here."

"We?" Laurence called back.

"Me and Isaac," she clarified before he walked into the kitchen. Isaac froze mid-chew and turned his wide eyes over to her father who ran a hand through his tousled dark hair. "He needed a place to stay for the night."

"Ah." He dropped his coat on the back of a chair and then hugged Melanie from behind and kissed the top of her head. "Nothing in the oven?" he asked, lifting one eyebrow.

"Besides these cookies? No. Oven's empty."

His eyes briefly rolled up to the ceiling and he clarified, "No…bun?" which wasn't too much of a clarification since it only made Melanie replied in a drawn-out confused tone, "…No?". Isaac, as a result, made a choking noise and held his face in his hands and Laurence slowly shook his head and Melanie looked at the both of them as if they had both just lost their minds, which she was sure wasn't too far off the mark. They were being really weird about the oven, after all. Laurence would have noticed if she had some bread baking in it. She shrugged and took a bite of a cookie. Weirdos.

"I should get going," Isaac muttered as soon as her father headed upstairs.

"So soon?"

He nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and then stood. "My dad's probably looking for me."

"But Isaac—"

"I need to get to work anyway. Dead people aren't going to bury themselves."

"If they did I think you'd have an entirely new problem on your hands," she quipped.

"Yeah, I don't know how the world would react if zombies actually existed."

She shook her head. "Not that! If they buried themselves, that means one arm is still stuck at the surface, right? How do they burry that arm? Do they leave it? And what if they could pull it in; wouldn't there be a hole left where the dirt hadn't settled? How do they cover that when it gets cold?"

Isaac paused, a pondering expression on his face. Melanie shrugged and pulled her mouth to the side, silently apologizing for her outburst, and popped the rest of the cookie in her mouth. He pushed a breath out his nose and finally replied, "I don't know. But if one wants to take a break from eating my brain, I'll ask them and report my findings to you."

Her shoulders relaxed and she turned a beaming smile to him. "Just as long as you promise not to eat my brain, okay?"

He nodded. "I promise."

Once he left the kitchen and headed upstairs, she took some of the cookies off of the plate and put them in a Ziploc bag. Grabbing a sharpie, she pulled off the cap and held it between her teeth as she wrote his name on the bag. She recapped it and had just reached for the leftover bacon on his plate when he ambled back into the room back in his clothes from last night.

"Ah! I caught you syrup handed!" he declared, snatching it out of his hand and taking a bite.

"I wasn't doing anything," she said, holding up her hands.

"Sure." He tugged his hooded down over his head, clenching the strip of bacon between his teeth. "I'm going to call you Mel…hm…oh! Melon the Felon!"

"Melon the felon!?" she replied, laughing aloud, covering her mouth with her palms.

"Was that bad?"

She removed her hands, nodding. "So bad!"

"So bad," he repeated, shaking his head. He stuffed the rest of the bacon in his mouth and started to pick up the plate when she waved him off, signaling him to leave it. "Okay, well, I have to go. Or my dad's head will explode."

"Take these," Melanie said, reaching across the countertop to hold out the bag of cookies.

"What are these for?" he asked, carefully holding the bag in his hands.

"To eat, silly," she replied. "It's physically impossible to have a bad day when you have cookies. Especially when they're fresh baked."

"Ah. Gotcha." He stuffed them in the front pocket and sighed. "See you tomorrow, Mello. And thanks again."

"Any time, Isaac." She nodded. "Really."

He mimicked her nod and turned to walk off. Ducking her head to hide her smile, she began cleaning up the remnants of breakfast and her baking. She had just put the plate away in the dishwasher when she heard the front door open, a brief exchange of "Hey Erica" and "Hey Isaac" followed, and then the sound of the door closing punctuated Isaac's leave and Erica's entrance.

"Cookies for breakfast?" Erica noted, dropping her bag in the chair Isaac had occupied only a few moments prior. "Couldn't sleep, huh?"

"Not really," Melanie replied, a yawn making her words heavy. She blinked and brushed away the tears that the force of her yawn had brought forth. "Bad dream," she clarified at Erica's concerned expression, "no big deal."

"And Isaac?"

"Needed a place to crash." She picked up the utensils she used for baking, threw it in the bowl, and then put it all in the sink. Grabbing the large spoon left over with batter stuck to it, she held it out to Erica who clapped her hands in delight and started licking the cookie batter off. "In other news, I can't wait until this week is over. I got SLC meeting to start putting up decorations tomorrow, the away game on Tuesday, more decorating and creating a playlist and confirming the band and confirming catering, the formal Friday, and your sweet sixteen on Saturday! I'm going to need a Coca-Cola IV drip to make it."

"Yeah, well, I wish it would stop at the formal," Erica commented.

"Gasp! What? And miss your birthday!?"

Erica shrugged. "It's just a day. I can't do what I want anyway," she mumbled. At Melanie's inquisitive glance she sighed and added, "I wanted to go play laser tag but my mom won't let me."

"Eri, it's because—"

"Because of my epilepsy. You think I don't know that?" she interrupted her friend, her brown eyes flashing in frustration. "I just wanted to do something fun for my birthday for once and I can't even do that! Oh, and surprise, my dad decided he wants to pay for it this year. Where was he for the last twelve?"

"Don't let him ruin the day. It's your sweet sixteen, Eri! It'll be fun with or without him. How about, instead, we go to the fair, eat fried corn on a stick until we explode and then come back and watch home movies?"

Erica's nose wrinkled. "Isn't that a little…tame for a sweet sixteen?"

Melanie held up her hands. "Hey, it's your day; we can do whatever you want. I just want you to be happy."

The two girls regarded one another, their gaze only breaking when Laurence walked back into the kitchen, an assortment of books and papers in his arms. His eyes bounced from his daughter over to Erica and back before he changed directions and made a beeline for the kitchen table.

"Should have known you'd tell her," he commented, his lips tugging up into a smile.

"Do you know how many movies and comics there are with the superheroes keeping their identities a secret from their friends and family and everything only turns out much worse than it would have had they told the truth?" Melanie asked, taking a deep breath at the end of her sentence. She had rounded the countertop and stood next to her dad, looking up at him. "I'm not doing the same with Erica. I want her in the loop."

"You've read my comics?" Erica asked, not bothering to hide her bewilderment.

"No, I just looked at the pictures," Melanie admitted. "Anyway! I tell Erica everything, this included. I'm a siren. You know it, she knows it, now, let's move forward." She clapped her hands together and surveyed the books covering the table. "So what are these? Journals?"

"These are notes on our family," Laurence replied. "Everyone who was a siren and those who weren't. There's family lines involved to see if abilities skip generations or not. Everything on our family you are going to need to know."

"These"—he motioned to the scattered papers on the table—"are sketches of the different shapes sirens have taken on over the years: beaks, talons, wings, tails, etc. They used to be bound in a book but for safety reasons we found it was better to keep them separated."

"What about this?" Erica asked, picking up a leather-bound book. She removed the rubber band holding the cover on and began to flip through the pages.

"Information on our enemies," Laurence replied. "Everything we need to know about faeries and harpies. There's a bit on valkyries thrown in there as well for good measure but I don't think we're going to need to worry about those."

"And this?" Melanie picked up a smaller notebook with a crudely drawn bird on the front of it. At least she thought it was a bird.

"That is a list of siren abilities," Laurence replied. "Not all sirens have the same ones; some have different abilities. No one can have them all. They vary depending on which form you take on. If you're half, like you have, Hummingbird, once you take on a form your abilities from the other form you rejected will be dropped."

Melanie slowly nodded her head as she read over the words on the page: flight (up to 60mph), heightened sight, increased speed, increased agility, navigational prowess. Every word her eyes rested on made her stomach lurch. She lightly touched the words that were written on the page as a rock fell in her stomach and landed with a thickening thud. It was different imagining what it would be like to be a supernatural creature but it was something else to actually be one. It all made sense; how she always felt just a touch…weird compared to everyone else. How she could see things that no one else could or run just a tad bit faster than everyone else and how she always seemed to know where she was even if she was visiting a place she'd never been to before. She swallowed the sour tasting saliva in her mouth and closed the book and set it down on the table and wrung her shaking hands together. If she was lucky no one else noticed.

"Take this but do not hold it up to your eye," Laurence said, holding out a piece of metal tubing.

Melanie took it from it; the cool metal chilled her palm. It stretched across her open palm. She curled her fingers in until she gripped it and hummed. "Wait, one thing doesn't make sense to me."

"One thing?" Erica muttered.

"You said that there are two types of sirens," Melanie continued, ignoring Erica's statement. "But, in everything I've read it's come back to the conclusion that sirens are birds. Yeah, some stories depict them as water nymphs of some sort but that's not technically right."

"Melanie, what do you remember about sirens?" Laurence asked, crossing his arms.

Her eyebrows crinkled. "What I just said. And them being made to search for Persephone." She pressed her lips together and twisted her mouth to the side.

"Buuuuuut…" Laurence prompted, his eyebrows rising.

"But…" she swallowed thickly, rolling the tube between her palms, "with…with the Odyssey they sung to lure passing men to their doom by crashing into the rocks with the beauty of their song—"

"Damn! Where do I get a power like that? Could get rid of all the dirtbags school. I'd be a hero," Erica muttered, her words tinged with mirth.

"—and when Odysseus and his crew passed by them because their ears were filled with wax they were devastated and threw themselves into the sea," Melanie finished, one eye squinted shut as she tried to recall information.

Laurence reached out and ruffled her hair, sliding his hand down to cup her cheek. "I don't understand why you're so unsure of yourself, Mel," he said, his voice so tender that it made a blush appear on her cheeks. He brushed his thumb against her cheek. She playfully bit at the pad of his thumb and he withdrew his hand. "That's why. Because of the adaptation. It's why we have a set of teeth rather than beaks."

"Ohhhhh," Melanie dragged out, her lips puckering at the end of the syllable. She rolled the tube in her palm again and looked at it only in the next second to lift it up to her eye and peer through it like a telescope.

"Melanie Charlotte, what did I just tell you!?" Laurence barked, causing the two girls to jump. Melanie instantly lowered the tube away from her eye. "Do you want to see what you could have done?" His daughter wordlessly nodded her head. "Hold your arm out, palm down, and squeeze it."

Melanie looked over at Erica who appeared concerned but she nodded anyway. Letting out a breath, Melanie did as she was told; she extended her arm, twisting her wrist so the tube was held horizontally in the air and squeezed it only to jump when it expanded with more tubing jutting out at either side to form a bo-staff. Her wide eyes shifted to her father who looked back at her with a very prominent I told you so expression on his face.

"This thing's as tall as me!" she cried out.

Laurence took the staff from her and did something—she couldn't tell—to make the extended sections slide back in. "That will become your new best friend. You may have the speed on your side but you don't have nearly as much strength as, say, a werewolf would have. You're going to have to work extra hard to survive. You do, however, have one thing on your side and that's your voice.

"Your voice will be your number one weapon. The top three things you'll be able to do with your voice: vocal mimicry, produce a sonic scream, and vocal bewitching. Your bewitching—fittingly enough—comes from your singing at the core, but you don't always have to be singing to do it. You have to tap into something deep inside and really want it to be able to control someone. But!" He held up his finger. "We only use it for good. We don't use it for personal gain," he added, effectively shooting down the evil smile that appeared on Melanie's face making her mumbled a feeble "phooey!" in response.

"Mr. Crowe, you said that a siren's natural enemies were faeries and harpies," Erica pointed out, "what's so bad about werewolves, then?"

"Werewolves will either kill sirens or use sirens," Laurence replied. "Being that there's an Alpha werewolf around here that forced all of this on my daughter…I think I know what he wants out of her." His fingers curled around the top of the chair he was standing in front of and his blue eyes hardened. "I wasn't going to tell her about this until she was eighteen but the Alpha forced my hand. This is why we moved here, Mel. After the incident we had to get away and I thought Beacon Hills would be fine, not just for you but for all of us.

"I could protect my family knowing Deaton was here. You could grow up somewhat normally and I knew if anything went wrong he was there to help. And your mother…your mother got the flower shop she's always wanted. She got the distraction she needed and she got to protect her family without being in the forefront…" his words trailed off and his once hard eyes softened as he thought about his wife.

"Mom knows?" Melanie asked. She felt Erica's hand on her lower back, the spot burned but in the best of ways. It was a comforting sort of burn. "Is…is this why she…?" Her words died on her tongue. She didn't know what she wanted to fill the rest of her sentence with. Is this why she hurt herself? Is this why she was uptight? Is this why she was ashamed of her daughter?

"Not…not directly," Laurence admitted. He met his daughter's eyes, his gaze was sad. "That's something she must discuss with you. It's not my place."

Melanie nodded. So she was being lead to another dead end, what else was new? She surveyed the books and papers on the table, pulling her lower lip into her mouth. So this was what her life was going to be now? Looking over her shoulder for a crazy werewolf wanting to do who knows what Ursula level shit with her? Having to keep her abilities on the down low when she wasn't even sure how her voice controlled people? Would she have to be quiet forever? The thought alone made her fingers twitch. Would she have to suppress her laughter too? Did that mean she could never be happy again? Not even if she saw a butterfly or if it was a nice sunny day or she got eleven chicken nuggets instead of ten or they got pizza for lunch at school!? Maybe being a siren was a bad idea.

"Anything else?" Melanie managed to ask, doing her best to make her voice sound normal even though a rush of emotions ran rampant within her.

"I can't divulge everything, Hummingbird."

Melanie blinked. "That's it? That's all I get? I get slammed with information and then suddenly you clam up like Danny when the fireman's ball rolls around? You're just gonna throw me into the deep end?"

"You have to learn some things on your own," Laurence replied. "I'm here for help. So's Deaton, so's your mother."

"And me too," Erica added, lightly knocking her hip against Melanie's.

She managed a small smile but it faded a second later as she held her father's gaze. Surely this was a joke. He wasn't just…going to tell her part of the story and make her figure everything else out on her own. She didn't have the time for it. She barely had time for her actual school work, let alone sleep. If he could take her to Deaton and explain what she was he could help her…right?

He was the first one to break their gaze. She had to bite her lip to keep the gasp rising in her throat from becoming a concrete sound. Okay, if that's how he wanted to play it, fine. How hard could it be to adjust? If Scott could do it, she could do it too. With a firm nod, she gathered up the books and papers that lay on the table. Without a word Erica followed suit and picked up the rest. Muttering a soft "thanks" to her dad, she left the kitchen and went back to her room.

Her brain hurt like it did when she stared at a history book for too long: the information jumbled around and she was lucky if she could think straight afterwards. Sure, she got a lot of answers but there were still other questions she had. Like her dreams. Was that because she was a siren or was that Peter's doing somehow? What happens to her if she gets sick, do her powers go away too if she can't use her voice? If she's half does that mean her abilities are harder to control or would it just be because of her? What did her mother's flower shop have anything to do with protecting them? Was she safe at the hospital or would the Alpha go after her too? Or Isaac? Or Erica?

She unceremoniously dropped the books and papers down on her desk, turned on her heel, walked over to her half made bed and flopped face down on it. Her arms lay still at her sides and even though Nova, who had woken up at the commotion, came over and licked at her bare feet, she didn't twitch at the tickling sensation.

The mattress springs creaked and groaned as Erica sat down on the bed. Melanie could feel the mattress dip with the added wait but still didn't move. Not even when she began running her fingers through Melanie's hair. "Are you okay?" Erica asked. Melanie shook her head. "Brain overload?" She nodded. "Do you want some music?" She nodded again. "Do you have a preference?" She shook her head.

The mattress sprang back up as Erica got off the bed and Melanie blew out a breath, although thanks to the blanket it got caught by her face and heated up her skin. It quickly became suffocating so she turned her head to the side, tucking her arm beneath her head. She could hear Erica shuffling through her scattered CD stacks looking for something. She didn't care what kind of music that was chosen; she just needed something to drown out her loud thoughts.

This was complete bull. This wasn't how everything was supposed to turn out. Her father was supposed to sit her down and tell her everything, show her how to use her weapon and her abilities, reassure her that everything would be okay, and give her all the information she needed to be able to survive and ensure her safety; like in the movies. But no, she had to go and figure stuff out on her own. Was this some sort of punishment because she forced Scott and Stiles to let her into their little world? Scott got Derek for guidance and clear-cut explanations she got a sack of nothing? Were these the rules that all supernatural creatures had to live by? Or was this just her own personal test? Surprise! You're a siren, now go and find out how to actually be one! What a craptastic induction ceremony.

"He didn't even answer all my questions," she mumbled over the opening notes of McFly's guitar riff. "I'm supposed to have a partner 'cause I'm only half. Okay. So how do I find a partner? And how come I can control my powers with my eyes but not anything else? And do I have to worry about hypnotizing everyone in the world if I want to sing? What happens if I sing along to the radio, the DJs somehow get hypnotized by my voice? Can I fall for my own voice, or would that be narcissistic of me?"

"I don't think that will happen," Erica replied, sitting on the bed again. She placed a pillow on her lap and shifted Melanie until her head rested atop of the pillow. She resumed running her fingers through Melanie's black hair.

"Don't get too close, you might get hypnotized too."

"I've always thought you had a good voice, being hypnotized by it wouldn't exactly be a bad thing," Erica said with a small smile. Melanie grunted, her nose wrinkling briefly until her facial muscles relaxed, pulling her mouth down into a pout. "Do you want to go through some of the books?"

"No," she replied. "The letters would just dance around the page and make everything gibberish." Not that she could focus on whatever was in the books anyway. Not with the way Erica was playing with her hair and rubbing circles in her temples. Not with the wind being yanked out of her sails, sending her into free fall with nothing around to help slow her descent besides her non-existent wings. Melanie licked her lips, her fingers pressing into the pillow beneath her head until crater-like indents were left. "Erica?"

"Yeah?" she replied, not slowing her fingers.

"…If I ever turn into a raging monster…will you still be my friend?"

Erica's scoff was quiet. "Are you really asking me that question?"

"I just…want to hear you say it…to be sure…" her words trailed off and she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth.

Erica's hand stopped for a second but, to Melanie, it was a second that eternity somehow fit into. It was a second that made her breath catch in her throat and her heart miss a beat and the crack in her wall get big enough for a worry to slip through and take over her brain. It was a second too long. A second she couldn't handle.

"Always," Erica vowed, tucking Melanie's hair behind her ear. The hair on Melanie's arms and the back of her neck stood up. "'Til death do us part." Her held breath rushed out of her at once and her cheeks flushed and the tender words that Erica just spoke nestled into her heart and illuminated her cheeks and sent her flying on a cloud. Her tight muscles relaxed and she nuzzled herself closer, curling up against Erica and a content sigh matched the smile on her face. That was all she needed to hear.

"You're pretty perfect, y'know," Melanie mumbled, reaching up to entwine their fingers. "Thanks for not freaking out when it told you." She rubbed her thumb against the back of Erica's hand.

Erica shrugged, a light red dusted her cheeks as she looked down, shielding her eyes. "You've always been there for me. Now it's my turn." She squeezed Melanie's hand and she swore she felt her heart squeeze along with it. "Your dad said something interesting, though. He said your mom took on the flower shop as a distraction and for protection. But…how? They're flowers."

Melanie shrugged. "That's what I didn't get either. I mean, how can a shop protect someone? Besides the security system and everything. It's not like we grow illegal substances."

"What about supernatural substances?" Erica suggested. "Like kryptonite?"

"Kryptonite can be a flower?" Melanie asked, her eyebrows furrowing.

"I was joking, dummy. Kryptonite's a rock. Different colors though. Each color does something different to Superman. If we were talking supernatural stuff though, it'd probably be the equivalent to wolfsbane or something."

"Wolfsbane!" Melanie bolted upright only to recoil and grab her forehead after slamming it against Erica's. The two cried out in pain but then tried to hold in their laughter when they noticed each other's pained expressions. "Sorry, you just reminded me of something," she continued, hopping off the bed. "I've had Allison's aunt come into the store asking if we sold wolfsbane. What if we actually do? And what if the hunter's want it? They're trying to find a beta, I'm sure they'd do anything they can to get more wolfsbane to find and stop them."

"But don't you think they have all the wolfsbane they need?"

"Not if they can find a source growing in Beacon Hills." Melanie began pacing. "Dad said sirens would be tortured by werewolves and stuff for our abilities. Maybe that's how she's protecting us. By keeping wolfsbane on hand to stop them if they showed up. I mean, it is incredibly lethal." She ran over to her stereo and jabbed the power off button and then grabbed her keys, doing her best to step over Nova who bounced around, echoing her excitement. "Let's go!"

"Go where?"

"To the flower shop!" She announced, rushing out her bedroom door. "Come on! Let's go!"

"Wait, Mel…" Erica scrambled to her feet, brushing her hair out of her face. "We can't go now."

"Why not?" She popped her head back in the room, her blue eyes wide. "We have a plan. Or half a plan…or an idea of a plan at least. Come on!"

"Mel, you're still in your pajamas," Erica pointed out, cutting her hand through the air to motion to it. "At least put a bra on if you insist on running out there." Huffing, Melanie stood in the door way and held out her arms. Erica rushed to her dresser, grabbed some clothes, and threw them to her. "I don't mind being seen next to you usually, but running around Beacon Hills in your pajamas? Yeah, can't do that."

"Thanks for gracing me with your presence, your highness," Melanie replied, dipping in a low bow only to laugh and dodge the pillow Erica threw at her.

# # #

Melanie punched in the security code to Flowerworks before it could go off. She breathed out a sigh of relief and pushed her hair out of her face when she saw the red light shift over to green. She waited for Erica to slip in before locking the door behind her and taking a look around. Everything in the storefront looked the same. Some of the flowers were a bit wilted compared to how they looked a few days ago, but she expected that; refrigerators could only keep flowers chilled for so long.

"Did you think about what you're going to do if we happen to find wolfsbane here?" Erica asked, following Melanie around the store front as she peered at the colorful selection of flowers and glass vases.

"Thinking is something I skip over," Melanie replied, still looking at the flowers. "It takes too much time, takes the fun out of spontaneity, and people tend not to listen to me anyway."

"I listen to you," Erica pointed out.

"Yeah, well, you're not people. You're Erica. You matter." At the moment Melanie was happy Erica didn't have a super power or else her heaving sigh would have knocked her over. Although that could be really cool. She could probably cause a tornado if she sneezed hard enough. Chuckling at the mental image, she turned away from the flowers she was studying and instead studied the crease in Erica's brows. "What?"

"It's nothing," she replied, tapping her chipped-polish covered nails against her arms. Melanie's eyes narrowed. Right, it was nothing, and she was Cleopatra. Crossing her own arms, she popped her hip and stared at her blond friend, her eyebrows lifting as the seconds went by. When Erica didn't crack she began to hum the theme to Jeopardy, knowing full well that Erica hated the song. The longer she hummed the more obnoxious she made the song sound until she was all but screeching. "Okay, okay!" Erica cracked, making Melanie cackle with glee. She sighed again, kicked at the ground, and blurted out, "It's just…the things you say sometimes…it's confusing. That's all."

"Confusing how? I'm just talking."

Erica rolled her head back, groaning while sticking out her tongue. When she brought her head back down she briefly shielded her face with her hands and said, "I know, but all your comments and compliments and support...I dunno, I just…I can't tell if you're saying it because you're, well, you or because…"

"Because what?" Melanie prompted, licking her lips. It didn't help much; her mouth had just become as dry as the Sahara as she waited for whatever it was that Erica was going to say. She had turned a vase and picked it up, even though she didn't expect to find anything in it or under it. The water from her mouth must have switched to her palms; they were so sweaty the vase almost fell from her hand as soon as she picked it up. "I got it, I got it. I swear, I don't have butter fingers," she said, quickly recovering the drop and putting the vase back. "The real thing or the candy. Though I wish I had the candy right about now—"

"Mellie." Erica stopped her friend's rant with a voice so stern that it actually made Melanie stop in her tracks. "Do you like me?"

"Duh, you're my best friend," she muttered, moving past her to look behind the front desk.

"Do you like me?" Erica stressed. She didn't turn around to ask the question; she stared right out the shop windows and chewed on her lower lip.

Melanie took her time beneath the counter, shuffling through the packs of cellophane and tissue paper that took up all the space and shifting the appointment book from side to side. The question whirled around in her mind and collided with Isaac's haunting commentary from the night before. The words swirled around and became a noise whirlwind in her head, drowning out any thought she tried to come up with as the silence between them stretched on and she found herself standing on the edge of a cliff. Her toes curled around the lip of the drop as she stared down. Either she jumped or fell, catching herself on the rocks below or get carried off by a cloud. Open a new door or close an old one…

She took a deep breath and said, "Funny you bring that up. Isaac made a comment about us being together. I thought it was strange he brought it up but…it's like the flood lights all came on at once and blinded me."

"I don't think that answers my question," Erica pointed out.

Melanie stood up from behind the counter and nearly flinched when she noticed that Erica had turned around and had a particular look in her eye. A mixture of hope and fear and uncertainty muddled her bright brown eyes and she hated it. She hated that she was the reason for it. She looked down at her hands, started playing with her fingers, took a breath, and admitted, "I…like cheering you up. I like making you laugh when you're in a bad mood. I like talking to you first thing in the morning and last thing before I go to sleep. I like listening to you talk about comic books and video games even though I don't know what the hell you're going on about. I like watching you sew and make stuff because then the Erica that I see comes out: the Erica that's confident and proud of her accomplishments and abilities. The Erica that doesn't look at herself in the mirror and gets down on what's reflected back at her, the Erica that accepts her illness and her skin for what it is and keeps on going. I like being the first person you come to with news, good or bad. I like being the one you turn to when you need someone to pick you up. I like being the reason you smile when you feel like your life sucks because there's sunshine in your smile that makes the actual sun jealous and I just want to bottle it up and hang it in my room as a nightlight so I can see it all the time." She had to stop herself from going off on a tangent, there was a lot she could say that she liked about Erica and it wouldn't be enough. She could speak about her for the next five years and that still wouldn't be enough time. An illuminating smile blossomed on her face and her heart fluttered like the wings of a hummingbird and she felt more content than she ever had her whole life. "So long story short—"

Her words died immediately when she noticed the way Erica was staring off into space. She twisted her mouth to the side, laughed a little at her misfortune, and then reached out and took Erica's hand, waiting for her to come back to the present. She rubbed her thumb against the skin on the back of Erica's hand and continued to look around. Nothing seemed out of place. There were no cracks in the wall that could hide a secret room, which really bummed her out. It would be cool to find a secret room, just so long as there were no booby traps to spear her along the way.

She blinked and turned her attention back to Erica when she blinked and took in a breath. Her eyelashes fluttered as she looked around, confusing settling in her eyes. "What—?"

"You had a small seizure," Melanie informed her. She let go of Erica's hand, straightened, and tapped her palms against the counter. "I didn't find anything out here. May as well check the arrangement room."

The room was filled with many different arrangements that had been stalled in the wake of her mother's hospital stay. Half vanished vases had ribbons tied to them, scissors, tape, tissue paper, wire wreaths, and lengths of cut up grapevine wire lay scattered, and dried up petals and leaves dotted the table. She combed through every area of the backroom and came up empty once again, expect for the dust and pollen that seemed to be permanently attached to the inside of her nostrils. Big surprise. You're only keeping to schedule, Mel; acting on half an idea only for you to come face-to-face with how foolish you were. Mel: 0, Stupidity: 45. Or is it 450? I bet Jackson's keeping score.

"Eri, I don't think there's anything here, let's just go," Melanie called out, kicking at a clump of dried out petals on the floor. She shoved her hands into her pockets and left the back room. "What are you looking at?" she asked when she noticed Erica hunched over a piece of paper.

"Just something I found in this book," Erica replied, waving the front of the appointment book. "Looks like your mom's handwriting. I don't think it's too important. Just a list of flowers."

"Lemme see." Melanie took the paper from her and dragged her thumb down the side of it, her eyebrows coming closer together the longer she looked at it. "Sage, lavender, aloe, rosemary, bay leaf, mugwort, rowan, alder, ash, hawthorn, willow…I don't get it. Half of these are trees and some of these plants aren't found in shops. What's the point of having them on a list?"

"Maybe they're your mom's favorite plants?" Erica suggested.

Melanie shook her head. "Nah, my mom's favorite flower is a sunflower—like mine—and her favorite tree is an evergreen. Which really means nothing until Christmas rolls around. You won't believe how many tree shaped car fresheners she gets from cousins during the holidays. Our house smells like it's been transported to an enchanted forest. …Which, if it were Narnia, I'd have no problem with it."

"Maybe it's just a list, Mel. We looked for wolfsbane, it's clearly not here. Let's just go back to your place and…and figure things out." Melanie looked up from the list in her hands, curious over Erica's choice of words. But Erica's attention had shifted to her ringing phone. Melanie folded up the list and stuck it in her pocket as her friend answered the phone. "Hey Mom. No, I'm at Flowerworks with Mel. We…we wanted to get her mom an arrangement. What? No, I can't!" Erica's hand came up to her face only for Melanie to slap her hand away and mouth "no picking!" when she began prodding her bumpy skin. Erica curled her fingers into a fist and dropped her hand by her side. "Because! Because. Because. Mom! Fine. Yeah, yeah, I'll see you later." She jabbed her phone screen with her thumb and made a face at it. "My mom wants me home."

"Now? Why?"

"Because it's past noon and my mom wants me home before it gets dark," Erica replied with an eye roll; snark dripped from her words and puddled on the floor.

"Might as well go then, since this was a bust." She took the appointment book and put it back beneath the counter. "Sorry for dragging you out here for nothing."

"I got to hang out with you so it wasn't for nothing," Erica replied.

Melanie smirked. "Now who's the one being mushy?"

She made sure to lock up behind them, taking one more look around the shop to be sure that her eyes were messing with her. Nothing else had been moved. Everything looked in order. She jumped into the driver's seat of the truck and started it up before her door closed all the way though she did make sure that Erica was buckled before she shot out of the parking lot.

If her (admittedly) reckless driving wasn't going to kill them the stifling tension in the truck certainly was going to do it. For the first time in her life Melanie felt strange singing along to the radio alone. Sometimes she had to do double time on the vocals because Erica wasn't in the mood or she felt under the weather or she was cramming in some last minute studying (not that she needed it, Erica could ace her classes in her sleep), but this was worse. She was choosing not to sing. She may as well be twisting a knife in Melanie's heart, it'd hurt a lot less. There was nothing worse than singing solo on a song that was meant to be a duet. She needed a Nate to her Pink, god dammit!

"Are you okay?" she finally ventured to ask once she had parked in the Reyes driveway. The once humming engine had settled and her legs began to hurt from holding her half-turned position for so long.

"'M fine," Erica replied, playing with the ring on her finger.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It's just…I'm with you, you'd think she'd loosen the leash a little bit." She pumped the handle on the door and extended her arm to push it open. "I'm sure we've combed the entire internet but I'm going to look for more siren stuff. Maybe find an answer to your questions."

"You don't have to."

"I know. I want to."

Melanie was happy to see Erica pause and then tilt her head to the side to receive the kiss that she planted on her friend's cheek but her joy quickly fizzled as soon as Erica closed the door to her home. She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel and settled in the odd haze of confusion at the intruding idea of actually kissing her when her ringing phone batted it away. She noticed Scott's name flashing on the screen and instantly picked up.

"Scott! Hey! Are you alright? Is Ms. Melissa okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine and my mom's fine, thanks. Stiles told me how you helped out."

She shook her head, even though Scott couldn't see her. "Oh, I didn't do much. Stiles did all the work. But what happened with you?"

"After you stopped Peter I had to go find Derek and Jackson—"

"Jackson?" Melanie sat up straighter in her seat. "What does he have anything to do with it?"

"He wants the bite, right? He wanted Derek to give it to him since I won't, I can't. Derek was going to kill him so I had to stop him."

Melanie's eyes narrowed. His voice sounded off. Her heart began to pound harder. "Scott…what did you do?"

Scott sighed. "I couldn't take on Derek by myself…I had to shift."

"Jackson saw?" she guessed.

"Yeah. But then the house got attacked, I think the hunters found it. They shot through the door with wolfsbane bullets. I got hit—but I'm fine. Dr. Deaton found me. Jackson's fine too, he got out. It's Derek."

"Is he dead?"

"No. I don't think so. I don't know. He's gone. He's missing, we can't find him."

"Waddya mean you can't find him?"

She heard scuffling on the other end of the line and then Scott's voice mutter, "She says 'what do I mean I can't find him'" before there was more scuffling. Then Stiles's voice came on the line and he all but barked, "What else does it mean when you can't find someone!?"

"Okay, for one, Mr. Stilinski, you don't need to yell at me," she sniffed, "and two, you could have meant in a spiritual sense. People lose themselves all the time. It's why they have religion, right?"

"She has a point," Scott muttered.

"No she doesn't, because that doesn't make sense," Stiles shot back. Melanie pulled the phone away from her ear and made a face at it. He didn't have to be so rude about it. "He's missing like gone. Like horror movie gone."

"He was last at the Hale House, right? Why not look there?"

"Why the hell would he go back to his own house that had bullets shot at it? Really, think about that," Stiles commented. She could almost see him rolling his eyes so hard they fell out of his sockets. "Would you want to go back to some place that someone filled with lead? I don't think so! Derek's not there."

"Why not? It's his house and—" she tried but Stiles cut her off again, making her shrink in her seat.

"Mels. He's not there. If he's smart he's out hiding somewhere. Like a scaredy cat…or a scardey wolf." She could hear Stiles snickering on the other end of the line followed by more scuffling and then him muttering beneath his breath.

"Sorry about him," Scott said, now on the phone. "He's just frustrated."

"Couldn't tell," Melanie replied, forcing cheer into her voice. "But, it's okay. He probably has a point. So Jackson's fine, you're fine—"

"Are you fine?" She blinked rapidly, the question startling her. "Stiles told me. About everything that happened and what you found out. You being a siren and all. Are you okay?"

"Wha? Me. Psssh. Yeah, I'm fine. I'm good. I'm more than good, I'm great. I mean, I haven't grown feathers or a beak or laid eggs or anything." She paused and an inquisitive look settled on her face. "Huh…do I lay eggs?"

"Well, if you want anyone to talk to, I'm here."

"Thanks Scott, I appreciate it."

"No problem. Where are you now?"

"Erica's."

"Well, be careful. Peter's still out there somewhere."

"I will, thanks. Call me if anything else comes up."

She hung up the phone and tossed it onto the seat next to her. She leaned forward, resting her arms on the steering wheel. Stiles couldn't be right, could he? Police tended to go to the last place a missing person was found as their first stop. Why couldn't Derek still be at the Hale house? It was his house, his was living there. It was probably the only place he had left. In fact, yes! She was sure he was still there. Stiles could be wrong, even though that notion would probably kill him. He deserved to die every once in a while like the rest of them. It was only fair. She turned the car back on, buckled herself in, removed the parking brake and backed out of the driveway and headed straight to the Beacon Hills Preserve.

Once parked she made sure not to slam her car door shut so as not to attract any other sort of wildlife that could be lurking about. If there were werewolves and mountain lions, Bigfoot could be out there for all she knew. She didn't know how to handle Bigfoot. No one wrote books about that. She walked past the entrance of the preserve; it didn't take long for the thick trees to swallow her from view of the street. She glanced over her shoulder, took a bit of a skipping start, and ran. The wind whistled in her ears and pulled at her clothes but it didn't slow her down. It only made her run that much faster. An exhilarated smile appeared on her face and red settled in her cheeks. Her feet barely touched the ground, she ran so fast she felt as if she were flying.

The Hale House came into view in no time. She dug her feet into the ground to stop herself only to find herself eating dirt at the sudden decrease in speed. She spat it out, rubbing her tongue against the sleeve of her jean jacket and gaze up at the structure. She could see each and every single bullet hole that was laden in the door from where she stood. She couldn't even imagine how Jackson dealt with all of the information slamming at him at once.

The wooden stairs creaked beneath her feet as she ascended, taking her time to stand on the porch and look around. It was only a few weeks ago that she had found herself waking up in the Hale house. The moon had affected her that night like it had affected Scott, did that have to do with being a siren as well or was that just a strange coincidence?

She brushed her fingers against the surface of the door. They briefly slid into the gaping holes that the bullets left behind. They allowed shafts of sunlight to filter into the house. One quick sweep gave her no results, save for the blood stains on the floorboards. Scott's? She swallowed the lump in her throat and turned away from the door. If Derek was still in the house he probably wouldn't be on the first floor.

Her foot had settled down on the top stair when an arrow came whizzing at her face. It moved slowly, as if she was in the Matrix. It gave her enough time to grab onto it and pull it away from her face. She didn't have long to look at the arrow in her hand when she looked up and saw another was flying at her. She grabbed that one as well. And then another aimed towards her. Her muscles moved her before she even had a chance to think about what to do: she jumped in the air, her body spinning as it tilted horizontally, until she landed on her feet.

"What the hell!?" she cried out, half due to being shot at and half due to somehow turning into a ninja overnight. Her eyes darted around the line of trees directly ahead of her. The leaves rustled in the light breeze. A squirrel ran up a tree bark. No birds chirped, it was otherwise silent. Melanie narrowed her eyes and her vision zoomed in as if she had pressed a button on a camera, the edges of her vision rimmed in purple. Then she saw it. Movement. It was the slightest bit of movement but it was enough for her heart to ram itself in her throat.

She wasn't alone.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck," she chanted while jumping off the porch, dropping the arrows she had grabbed. As soon as her feet touched the ground she ran. She could hear another arrow coming at her and tilted her head a few inches to the left. It smacked into a nearby tree, the tail of the arrow shaking as the arrowhead nestled in the bark.

"Yikes!" She screamed, falling backwards to avoid that arrow that had shot at her from the front. She scrambled back to her feet and began running back the way she came only to scream again a few seconds later, though this time it was due to a large flash going off in her face. She tried to shield her eyes from the bright sparks but the damage had already been done.

Too much light had filtered into her eyes. It was as if someone was shining a spotlight in her face. Her steps were staggered and she kept an arm outstretched to avoid crashing into trees in her attempt to escape. She managed to pick up speed but it all came crashing down when, in mid-step, she felt something wrap around her legs, snapping them together. She threw out her arms to catch herself but still managed to face plant in the dirt.

Rolling onto her back, she felt tears streaming down her face due to the overexposure to light. She frantically rubbed at her eyes but nothing she did could remove the giant white spot in her vision. She fumbled down her legs and touched the material of the constricting material around her feet. She felt at the knot and tried to untie it but it was tied tight. What kind of freakish rope is this?

"Well, well, well," a voice all but purred somewhere next to her. Squinting, Melanie tired to search out whom that voice belonged to but she could only see darkened blurry shapes approaching her. She cried out in pain when someone grabbed onto her hair and yanked her head backwards. "Looks like I caught myself a beta."

Only when the voice was next to her ear did she recognize who it belonged to and once realization set in a shiver ran down her spine.

It belonged to none other than Kate Argent.


a/n - Happy Moonday everyone! I dunno about you but I can't wait to see how tonight's episode plays out! Season five is so great so far, it's one of the bitter seasons if you ask me. So, to all those that ship Mel and Erica I told you you would be happy with this chapter! Not to the degree I bet you hoped, but Mel has made a break through people! She finally realizes that she may have feelings for Erica that aren't just platonic! Too bad she couldn't get that all figured out before she was attacked by the hunters, right? Who knows, maybe it'll jump start her confession later on. If she gets out of their clutches. Muahahaha!

So yeah, you all leave reviews and I'll go hide under a rock to keep from feeling your Melica related wrath :P.

~C.M.

P.S. my tumblr is mack-intosh if any of you want to chat there.