Chapter 25: Dancing with the Devil Part 2

When the beads of hot water pounded her back and massaged her aching muscles, Melanie let out a long sigh. The leftover stress and tension from the game kept her stiff on the drive over; being trapped in a car with Scott didn't help matters either. Sitting that close to him kept her from being able to sit still; she constantly drummed the steering wheel with her thumbs, shifted in the soft driver's seat, repeatedly glanced at the mirrors much more than a normal person should have. Though she was thankful for his invitation. She couldn't be home alone again. Not after the game.

The game ended with the Cyclones winning 7 to 5 but it wasn't an easy win. It was almost as if the other team had a heads up on the Cyclones, they kept every player marked. Scott, Jackson, and Melanie especially. It didn't surprise her a bit. No matter which way they turned, they had at least two players on their backs ready to knock the ball out of their sticks. Or, in Melanie's case, knock her over entirely. It wasn't until she found herself crash landing on the ground for the seventh time in five minutes that she clocked in on how much smaller and lighter she was compared to their opponents. And yet, the entire time Coach kept screaming at her to "get your head out of your ass and into the game!"

Which would have been an easy task if it weren't for the Bardell players noticing she was a girl and taking extra care to remind her of it. The taunts and the jeering she dealt with. Being called a "lacrosstitute" she rolled off her back. But being knocked over and getting slapped on the ass when she got up under the guise of being deemed a "trooper" for taking their hits, being complimented for how she handled her stick "like an expert", and for being "accidentally" grabbed on the chest when someone went to hit her stick was where she drew the line. Coach wasn't on the same page when she went to complain and Jackson backed up his sentiments by grabbing the front of her helmet and demanding she "get off your period" and suck it up because "you got on the team like you wanted, quit being a bitch about the game!"

Suffice to say, the win was bittersweet for her.

She watched as the dirt, grime, and little bits of grass swirled down the drain, taking her stress along with it. Looking back it was a good game, a tough one but a good one. And they came out on top in the end. She played hard and she played well and she was satisfied with her performance. But still, even hours later, she couldn't shake Bardell's taunts.

"If you like catching balls so much how about you try these on for size?"

"So, you like handling sticks, huh? Bet you can't handle mine."

"Come over here and let me teach you how to properly handle a man and his stick."

The steady steam of water hid her shaky breath, concealed the tears that clung to her eyelashes of which she refused to let fall. She didn't get it. All she wanted to do was play lacrosse, why was everyone making it so hard? Frowning, she squeezed shampoo into her palm and applied it to her hair. It worked up a lather in no time and as she scratched her head and moved the suds through, the remaining annoyance slipped off her shoulders, down the drain, and out of her sight.

Her skin erupted in goosebumps once she stepped out of the shower, the steam may have made the room humid but the temperature difference almost knocked her off her feet. It was like having a nice warm blanket taken away. She squeezed water out the end of her hair over the sink and then jumped at the sound of knocking on the door. Heart racing, she ducked behind the door and cracked it open far enough for half her face to be revealed.

Scott's flushed face stared back at her. "Um…here. Your clothes are dry." He held the stack of clothes out to her. She managed to wriggle an arm out past the door and pull it in through the gap without opening the door to far. Scott shoved his hands into his pockets. She noticed that he kept his gaze away from her. Could he be more of a gentleman? "I also got dinner ready. It's not a lot, just some leftover meatloaf but…"

"Scott, that's fine," she quickly reassured. "That's perfect. Really. I like meatloaf so…"

"Right. Right, okay." He nodded a few times and then backed away from the door.

She shut the door swiftly and then rested her forehead against it; the warm condensation smeared against her skin. She didn't need much more of a sign did she? If he didn't even try to sneak a peek… Clicking her tongue, she dried herself off with a towel. Afterwards, she went about pulling on her clothes, blushing when she picked up her folded bra and underwear. Once dressed she did her best to put everything back in its original place, grabbed her bag, and went downstairs. She dropped her bag by the front door and went into the kitchen. Scott brought his plate of meatloaf up to his nose and then set it down as she approached.

"It's kind of dry—I think I microwaved it too long. But it'll taste great with ketchup," he said.

Melanie paused. Here he was going out of his way to help her and he was concerned about the state of dinner. She shook her head. "You don't have to be embarrassed, Scott," she said, her voice soft in the quiet kitchen.

"Huh?" He lifted his head. "I'm not—"

She interrupted him, holding up her hand to block his protest. "I told you. I like meatloaf." She smiled and picked up the plate closest to her. She cut off a piece of dinner with a fork and stuffed it into her mouth. He was right, it was dry, but it was also better than what she would come up with back home. She could only spend so many days in a row eating ramen. There wasn't a point in cooking for yourself. "It takes like a million bucks. Beats eating alone." She poked at the meatloaf rather than taking another bite. Mom's probably eating worse… She frowned and set her plate down, all traces of her previous appetite had vanished.

He wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand. "My mom'll be home soon, I think. Unless she took on another shift at the hospital."

Her eyebrow quirked and her lip lifted into an amused smile at the corner. "Trying to get rid of me, McCall?"

"No, no!" he protested in an instant, shaking his head. "Nothing like that. I enjoy your company."

"Thanks." She tucked her hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. As if sensing her discomfort—how aware were werewolves, really?—he picked up his plate and led her into the living room. They sat down on opposite ends of the couch. Melanie curled up in the corner, balancing the plate on top of her knees. The wet ends of her hair soaked into her shirt but she ignored it.

"Have you seen her?" Scott spoke so suddenly that it made Melanie jump and almost knock over her plate. She grabbed it at the last second to keep from staining the couch. She didn't want to give Miss Melissa something to clean up after a long day. Her inquisitive stare prompted him to clarify, "Your mom?"

"Ah…no." Melanie went back to poking her fork at the meatloaf. "I just…haven't had time. Y'know? Have to….to get the gym set up and get the flower orders finished and everything."

"I'm sure she'd like it if you went."

Her lip twitched. "Yeah, well…I'm busy so…"

"C'mon, Mel. It's your mom." She felt the couch cushions shift as Scott turned fully to face her. He, too, played with his fork and his food rather than ate it. "I know you don't always get along but—"

"I just—I don't like hospitals, okay?" Melanie interrupted. A second later she clamped her mouth shut and stuffed more food into her mouth. That way she didn't have to talk, didn't have to add more. Even with Scott's goading eyes she resisted the urge to explain. That was a door she had sealed shut years ago, buried it deep down. Touching that would be like opening Pandora's Box. And look what happened with that. Besides, how could she ever explain the confusion that she felt, wondering how to feel when it was your parent that didn't want to be around anymore? "Can we talk about something else?"

"Sure, sure." Silence. And then, "…The game went well."

She briefly made a face but conceded to the topic change. It was better than the first one and she hadn't been specific with her request. Live and learn. "Yeah, it was…great." She put on a smile and cut another slice of food with her fork. "I don't think I've ever seen Coach that happy."

"We've never beaten Bardell before. He actually hugged Greenberg."

"I know! I saw! I hope Matt got a picture. We could use it as blackmail or something." She snorted and added, "Or maybe Greenberg can have it framed. We can put it in the yearbook so it can live on forever."

Scott laughed. "You were on fire on the field."

Melanie waved her fork in the air, dismissing his words. Well, when you have the right motivation… "Scott, you were the lynchpin. Every time I looked up you were in position for me to pass the ball. Even Jackson caught on."

"Yeah but I think that had more to do with…" Scott's voice trailed off.

"Him owing his life to you?"

"Well, I wouldn't go that far."

"You bet your ass you should!" she stated, her voice firm. "Literally, you took a bullet for him. If that doesn't mean anything to him then he officially has no soul. Which is his problem, not yours."

"Yeah, maybe." Silence returned as they ate, every now and then breaking it to bring up a shot they had made or a save that Danny caught or a play they ran. The silence that peppered their conversation was comfortable, like a thick blanket on a cold, wintery day. One that was ripped right off, exposing her to the cold when Scott asked, "What did that guy want? After the game."

Her nose wrinkled at the memory and she almost laughed aloud once more at how ridiculous the whole situation was. And by ridiculous she really meant messed up. She took her time to set her plate on the floor and wrap her arms around her knees. She regarded him. Was it worth telling him what really went on? Just replaying it in her mind made her frustrated and exhausted all over again. It reignited the dormant fire in her belly but then she extinguished it a moment later. This was her problem, not his. Maybe if she didn't make it a big deal he wouldn't either. "Nothing. He just asked me to his formal."

She didn't miss the way his eyebrows rose, didn't miss the confusion that settled in his eyes a moment later. "Wait, really? But wasn't he bothering you during the whole game?"

That's a nice way of putting it. "Yeah."

He blinked and shook his head. She could almost see the little gears in his head turning, trying to make sense of it all. Good luck, buddy. I don't get it either. "That's…nuts!"

A burst of laughter shot out of her chest at his word choice. She couldn't have said it better herself! "It is, yeah," she agreed, the smile slowly sliding off her face as the opponent's taunts shot through her mind once more. "But it's just…" She made a face. Just what? Boys being boys? It's just a part of the game? It's just life? All a bunch of excuses but ones so regularly spit they had rolled off her back once before; but now they stuck like barbs and they hurt more than she anticipated. It was wrong, all wrong. "It's just stupid," she finished lamely.

"You shouldn't have to deal with that."

"Scott, it's okay. I'm used to it."

"No it's not! It's...it's gross. And stupid. You're better than the rest of them."

"I can handle it."

"But you shouldn't have to."

No, I shouldn't, she quietly agreed. But that was how things were and fighting back hadn't done her many favors before… "Yeah, well, I knew what I was getting myself into." She shrugged and expected that to be the end of it all but of course it wasn't. Scott looked as if he were ready to throw down. She picked at an imaginary loose thread.

"But why do you put up with it?"

She blew out a long breath. She appreciated that he and Stiles had tried arguing with the refs and Coach Finstock when they noticed how the Bardell players were treating her, but now she just wanted to forget it all. "Look...Scott, lacrosse is the only thing I'm good at—"

"You don't actually believe that, do you?" he interrupted, the bewildered expression on his face reflecting the tone attached to his words.

"Um...yes?" Why wouldn't she? How many times had she be laughed at for making a not-so-stellar grade on a test? For having something fly right over her head? For not catching onto things as quickly as everyone else? She wasn't academically gifted, she wasn't class president, she wasn't the most popular person in their class, she didn't have the status, she was practically a no one. A nothing.

"That's ridiculous, Mel. I mean...c'mon! You're a freakin' awesome swimmer!"

She snorted and shoved her hands beneath her feet as she began rocking back and forth. Her chin, rested atop of her knees, allowed her to keep her eyes downcast. "What does that matter? Our team sucks. We haven't won a championship in five years. And that's with mine and Jackson's help."

"Well, um...no one can recount mythology like you do. And you know everything there is to know about the Supernatural."

She shrugged. "I like to read." Plus, the moment she moved to Beacon Hills the urban myths running around the town piqued her interest. The plethora of dead bodies that popped up over the years also didn't hurt.

"Well...well you're a great person. Amazing, even."

She laughed at that before she could stop herself. A low, hollow laugh that sounded foreign even to herself. "...No, I'm not." She sniffed and brushed her nose with her sleeve.

"Yes, you are!"

"No, I'm not." She shook her head. Memories flashed through her mind, moving faster and faster like a whirlwind. Colors blurred and muddled together. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head harder. Sour saliva pooled in her mouth and, no matter how many times she swallowed, it came back. The whirlwind got louder, a mishmash of memories screaming at her: all the lies, the fights, the screaming, the tears, the anger, the resentment. It bore down, attacking the shelter she so carefully built around the raw, pulsing bundle of painful truths that leaked out when she wasn't careful. And all at once, like a broken dam, it spilled out. "I'm...I'm horrible. I'm…a horrible person."

"No you're not."

"Yes! Scott, I am! I can't even…visit my freakin' mother in the hospital! My mom! 'Cause…'cause I'm so scared that she'll say it was my fault! That I'm the reason she's in there! That I'm the reason she's hurting! That…that I'm the reason she tried to go away. Because…because I make everyone go away. Mollie. My mom. Erica…" Her chest heaved, her face flamed, and her eyes burned with the unshed tears that gathered on the rims. She hastily used her sleeve to wipe them away and sucked in a breath, trying to ease her own breathing. She let it all out and tried to scramble off the couch. "Sorry, sorry. I should probably just—I'm going to go. Okay? I'm just going to head home. Sorry I bothered you—"

"Hey." Scott stopped her. Melanie wasn't sure if it was the way he was looking at her, the solitary quiet yet soothing word, of him holding her by the wrist. "I haven't gone away. And I don't plan on it. You were there to help…when you found out about me. Well, I'm here for you too. Okay? I'm not going anywhere, Mel." He gave her arm a gentle squeeze.

She blinked back her tears. How is it possible that someone like Scott McCall existed? Guys like him only existed in books and TV shows. Or so she thought. If it weren't for his tangible hold she would think she dreamed him up. She sighed and wondered if this is how Allison felt whenever she was with him.

"I can go with you if you want. To the hospital, I mean. Not now—whenever. Just give me a call and I'll be there."

"I'm…I'm fine, thanks." Melanie took her arm out of his grasp and picked up her abandoned phone. Anything to get him to stop looking at her like that. Looking as if she were worth something. "I-I should probably get going anyway. Need to feed Nova and everything."

"Maybe you should stay. It's getting late."

"It's fine, Scott. Really. I need to get home."

"Will you be okay? I can come with you."

Melanie stood. "I dropped you off, remember? How would you get back?"

"I run fast." Scott too, got to his feet. "Werewolf, remember?"

"Right. Forgot that part."

He gave a sad smile. "You're lucky."

That made her take pause. Her mouth twisted to the side and then she flung her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. His arms encircled her waist and she laughed a little at the strength behind his hug; it was almost as if they were both trying to squeeze the sadness out of one another.

"Thanks Scott." They stood by the door and he watched as she gathered her things.

"You're welcome. I know it's kind of hard eating alone. You get used to but it, y'know…"

She shook her head. "No, not that."

"Then…what d'you mean?"

"…Thanks for sitting with me at lunch when I first moved here. And for listening to me go on and on about the supernatural for years. …And for not making me feel dumb about it and the other things I like."

"You have an interest in it. It's not dumb."

She shrugged a shoulder. "I know what the others think. That I'm stupid or an airhead or a little too silly and naïve. They don't take me all that seriously. But you do. You always have." Her voice hitched and a swooping tumble rolled in her stomach. "And I…I really appreciate it. More than you know."

"Well, considering you ended up knowing more about this than the rest of us…thank you for being you."

After a brief reassurance to one another that they would figure everything out, Melanie left the McCall home with a smile on her face. It was a nice change from the scowl she wore earlier. Her truck rumbled down the darkened roads, the slightly dim headlights cutting through the darkness. She let autopilot take over to allow her brain time to decompress from the day. The vacation from reality didn't last long. Her phone dinged with an incoming text on the seat next to her. Checking the road ahead of her every few seconds she picked up her phone and glanced at the screen only to frown a moment later.

"What?" she muttered, glancing again at the words that screamed a warning of a tripped alarm at Flowerworks. "Great." She fired off a quick text to Erica and her father to let them know where she was headed and then swung her truck around.

# # #

Melanie inspected the front door, looking for any sort of forced entry. A bent door frame, splintered bits of wood, scrapes on the doorknob, anything. She dug her phone out of her pocket and turned on the flashlight app, flinching at the bright light that assaulted her eyes for a moment. She turned the light towards the door and she closed one eye, squinting into the lock. Maybe, just maybe…

She took a deep breath, let it out, and focused on the inside of the lock. She waited and waited and then… At once everything became blurry but then, a moment later, the image sharpened out and she could see the inside of the doorknob. The tumbler pins appeared normal but the merest shift of her eye made everything blurry once more. She sighed, turned her eyes away, and turned off the app.

Everything looked perfect. With a frown nestled upon her face, she walked around to the back and checked that door. Nothing seemed wrong there either. She unlocked the door and stepped into the shop, quickly disarming the alarm by the door by punching in the appropriate code. Then she flipped through the list that displayed all the times the code was entered. All the times matched to when she was in the store.

"Weird," she uttered. Her eyebrows furrowed and then she shrugged as she went along the back of the shop, flipping on the lights a she went. Nothing was out of the ordinary, not even when she used her siren vision to zoom in the nooks and crannies to be even more sure. Her abilities were really starting to come in handy—though it was getting a bit hard to explain her growing number of bruises; lacrosse only worked for so long and she didn't miss the concerned looks Ms. Morell threw her way as she passed by the offices.

If the backroom had been touched she wouldn't have spotted a difference. Old broken vases still sat upon a table in the back-corner due to her not having had a chance to get to it yet, scraps of curled ribbon still lay on the floor, crunching beneath her feet; boxes and buckets and baskets lay on every available surface that wasn't already taken up by the forgotten, stale, dead and crumbling products. She made a mental note to get it all cleaned up before her mother came back. If she does.

She struck the side of her head with an open palm, the resounding smack slapped the still air. "Shut up!" She hit the side of her head again, harder. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Both hands laid blows to the side of her head. Her hair flew around her head, her skin reddened and colors burst in front of her eyes but still she hit herself. "Shut up! Shut up!" The cool temperature of the shop floor seeped in through her jeans as she sunk to the floor. Her body shook and convulsed with the sobs that poured out of her and yet she still punished herself. Pain burst, fleeting, in her head but it wasn't enough. The pain wasn't enough. She deserved more.

"You know…it's not fun to watch you all do my job for me."

Her hair distorted Peter's image when she whirled around to face him. Far off in her head she heard something crack as all emotion drained from her face. Her breath whistled out between her clenched teeth. She steadily got to her feet and locked eyes with him. Her eyes burned, though it didn't match the flames of fury that flickered deep within her core.

"Get out," she growled.

Peter tutted. "Now, is that any way to treat a guest? Maybe I want to get some flowers for someone. There must be…a few occasions coming up soon to warrant the business."

"Get out!"

"Ahh, putting that voice to use I see. Though I figured a few thank yous would be in order. I'm still waiting for it, by the way."

"Why the fuck would I thank you?"

"If it weren't for me you wouldn't know what you are. What you can do. It would have all gone to waste."

"You attacked me."

Peter waved his hand. "That's neither here nor there. I didn't kill you."

She hesitated, stricken. He didn't kill her. It'd confused her then and it still confused her now. He could have gotten them at the school. He could have gotten her after the lacrosse game; nearly did. There were plenty of times she was alone and he could have done something. Anything. But he didn't.

Realization washed over her, like a bucket of cold water rushing from the top of her head and dripped down to her feet. Peter was an Alpha. If he wanted someone out of the way, he could have easily done away with them. Could have easily done away with her. No. Oh no.

"So, let's cut to the chase, shall we? Since you've finally caught up." Peter clasped his hands together. "There's something I want. There's something you want. We can help each other to reach that goal. Scratch each other's backs."

"You've already done that," Melanie said. Her fingers throbbed in time with her pulse, curled up against her palms.

"Did I?" He hummed. "Oh, yes, that's right. Let's see how that worked out, shall we?"

She didn't have time to move. He surged forward in the time it took for her to blink and slammed his fist right below the chest plate. A cramp spread around her lower ribs, a sharp stab within her core. The air in her body rushed out at once, making her lighter on her feet as she left the ground. Her body, arms and legs stiff, pointing towards the opposite wall, sailed. Her back hit the wall, a loud crack exploding like gunfire. Pain spread throughout her back at the contact. She fell onto a table in a heap, knocking old baskets and buckets off the smooth wood. Stars burst in front of her eyes when her head hit the table with a resounding clunk.

Her chest burned as she willed herself to breathe. A gurgling sound erupted from her throat. With shaky hands, she managed to push herself up and crawled across the surface. Get out. Have to get out. Have to get— Peter's claws dug into her ankle, puncturing her skin. Melanie felt a strong pull on her ankle and she flew again. She crashed through a pile of cardboard boxes, crushing them with her weight. She looked up to see Peter jumping through the air, towards her. He slammed his hand onto her throat and lifted her up into the air. She hung weightless, a rag doll in his monstrous grip.

Her ears rang when her head collided with a table. A splatter of blood shot across the once brown surface. It dripped from her nose and clung onto her lips and spread a sour, metallic taste on her tongue. Peter's claws dug into her neck, holding her down against the table. Her breath, hurried wheezes, hitched as he leaned over her. His weight pressed against her back, flush against her body. Tears sprang to her eyes. No, please no.

"Now, let's see how far you've progressed, hmm?"

She tried to move her arms; they hung limp, weighed down with fatigue, partially crushed beneath her body and the table. Her legs didn't fare much better with Peter's body weight pressed against her, pinning her down. Her shirt rose up her back, the cool air causing goosebumps to erupt over her exposed skin. Fire burned where his fingers brushed against her spine. She flinched, feeling a claw trace against her back, from the middle curving upwards and around her shoulder blade, stopping right below her neck.

Melanie's stomach churned. Sour bile swirled around, mixing with the thick saliva pooling in her mouth. C'mon, think. Think! She willed herself to come up with some sort of plan but nothing came. Nothing but the loud, continuous jeering and putdowns from her classmates over the years; it all came at her in a screaming rush: idiot, dummy, slow, silly, stupid. Boy was she stupid for not seeing this coming. So, so—

"You know what I want." Peter's claws lightly scratched behind her ear as he pulled her hair away from her face. He leaned closer, his lips touching the shell of her ear. "Scott is a part of my pack. Just take me to him and I'll let you go."

She didn't reply. She couldn't. Her lungs were on fire, her chest felt as if a weight of a thousand sandbags lay atop of her. Energy seeped out of her. The dim colors in the room began to fade. Peter pressed harder on her neck. She gagged, she gaped for air as darkness settled into the corners of her vision. Images flashed through her mind, like a projection. Her mother. Her father. Mollie. Erica. Scott and Stiles. Isaac. Erica. Scott. Erica.

"You shouldn't have to deal with that."

"Scott, it's okay. I'm used to it."

"No it's not! It's...it's gross. And stupid..."

"I can handle it."

"But you shouldn't have to."

"Yeah, well, I knew what I was getting myself into."

"But why do you put up with it?"

Why do you put up with it?

Why do you put up with it?

Why…?

Her eyes popped open. A violet haze filled her vision. She saw a building in the distance, growing faster, moving closer. She heard hurried, frantic breathing in her ears. A rapid heartbeat. Fear clawed at her belly, worry held her heart in its grip, and white-hot fury ignited her muscles.

Melanie blinked. The sight of the stock room returned. Gritting her teeth, she gathered her strength, drew back her elbow, and slammed it behind her. She felt Peter's body lift, heard the rush of air as it escaped her body. Reaching back, she grabbed his wrist, pushed back her hips, and threw him over her shoulder.

She gazed at his crumpled heap in wonder, a spike of adrenaline rushing through her. A small smile formed on her face which turned to a look of horror when he started to get up. Shit! She turned, started to run. Her feet slid on the scraps of ribbons on the floor. She felt her balance go off-kilter. Her head throbbed. Have to get out. Have to get out.

"I love it when they run," Peter said.

"Hey!" Melanie stopped in her tracks. Her eyes widened at the sight of Scott standing in the door way. Hair lined the side of his face, the skin around his nose thicker, looking more like a snout than his nose. His mouth hung open, growls rumbling in his chest. His fangs gleamed in the moonlight pouring in from the back door and his clawed fingers twitched by his sides. "Didn't you learn it's not nice to hit a girl?"

"No, but I did learn to keep my nose out of other's business," Peter replied.

"She is my business."

Melanie dove out of the way as Peter and Scott rushed at each other, clashing in the center of the room. Legs weak, Melanie fell by the wall. Her eyes quickly found the split in the plaster. She frowned. What was that? Spilling out of the crack wasn't white dust but a black substance. Not mold or dirt. She moved closer, looking at it and tapped her finger against it. She rubbed it between her fingers, the substance breaking down between her fingers. Where had she seen that before?

It hit her like a bolt of lightning. She thought back to when she and Erica were in the shop last. After speaking with her dad, when they were looking for wolfsbane in her mother's stock of plants. To the list of trees and flora they had found on the paper. That's it! But then she hesitated. What if she was wrong? What if she made it all worse? What if she was just being…? She didn't fill in the last word of her heavy thought, couldn't fill it in. No. She was right. She knew she was.

Before she knew it she ran into the fray, aiming a kick at Peter's side. It caught him off guard, knocking him to the side and releasing his grip on Scott. "Mel, what are you—?"

"Get to the door!" she ordered. "Now!"

She grabbed onto his arm and pulled him to the open door. She heard Peter's loud roar behind them and glanced over her shoulder. Just as she thought. He charged. With a hard yank, she pulled Scott down and threw themselves onto the floor. Peter sailed over their heads, roaring all the while. Melanie jumped to her feet, grabbed the door, and yanked it shut. The second the door closed she heard Peter's body weight slam into it.

"What are you doing? He's just going to come back in," Scott said.

Melanie shook her head. "No he won't. Look at this." She grabbed his hand and lead him over to the wall. "See this?" she pointed at the plaster where the dust fell.

"Yeah. What is that?"

"Well, I wasn't sure at first. Thought it was just dirt but then I realized it was rowan."

Scott's nose wrinkled. Melanie did a double take, nothing that his features had returned to normal. "What's rowan?"

"It's a type of tree. It's used for protection. To ward off witches and evil spirits and stuff. It's usually used by druids." Scott stared at her. "Scottish folklore." He still stared. Her nose wrinkled which was then followed by a burst of pain. "Ow! Oh gosh!" Her hands flew up to her nose; her fingers tapped against the sticky blood that had begun to dry on her face. "Is it bad?"

"I think it's broken," Scott said.

"Great." They jumped at the sound of a loud bang that sounded on the other side of the door.

"Will it hold him?"

"It should. If this wall has rowan in it then all of the walls must have it. It forms a circle; it'll keep him out." She bit her lip. This has to be what dad was talking about.

"How did you know?"

"…I didn't."

Her shoulders lifted as she waited for it, waited for the inevitable scoff and roll of eyes that followed such an admission. But it never came. Scott nodded. "Good guess."

Her shoulders dropped and her mouth dropped in surprise until she brought it back up as a pleased flush appeared on her cheeks. "Yeah." She rubbed at her face again, careful not to touch her nose. "How did you find me?"

"I followed you." He smiled. "I told you I wasn't going anywhere." He shuffled his feet. "I just wanted to make sure you made it back okay."

"…Thanks for checking."

Another slam against the door grabbed their attention. Scott's mouth twisted to the side. "I don't think he's going to give up any time soon."

"Right. I think we're stuck here." Melanie pulled out her phone. "Only…nine-ish more hours until sunrise."

"I should call my mom."

"I'll call my dad too."

The two took turns sharing Melanie's phone, calling their respective parents with excuses of their whereabouts. Scott claimed to be at Stiles's place while Melanie claimed to be at Erica's, sending Erica a text afterwards to explain what happened and that she was okay and she'd see her later. Silence settled between the two once the calls ended and they got settled in the room.

"What did Peter want?" Scott's question pulled Melanie back to the present and out of her daydream about a unicorn shitting marshmallows.

"He wants you," Melanie replied. "Tried to convince me to help him get to you."

"And what happened?"

"You know. He attacked me." She motioned to her face. "He threatened my mom too."

Scott's intake of breath was audible in the room. "I'm sorry."

She blinked. "You didn't do anything."

"I brought you into this."

"I put myself into this, actually. Remember? I forced Stiles into telling me what was going on after I figured it out." She sniffed and groaned in pain. "It's all my fault. I should have just…just stayed out of it. But I couldn't. I never can." She laughed, a hollow sound coming from her chest. "They both want me to help them, Scott."

"Who?"

"Peter and the hunters. They know what I am. They want me to get you on their side. They both say they'll hurt my mom. I don't know what to do. I can't help them but…"

"We'll think of something. We'll figure something out."

"How?" she swallowed the lump in her throat. "The hunters are on one side and the alpha's on the other. I…I can't give you to either of them. But I can't do nothing! I can't lose my mom too."

"Too?" Scott got up from where he sat, crossed the room, and sat down next to Melanie. He peered at her face. "What do you mean too?" She turned away from him. "You said something earlier. About someone named Mollie?"

"Yeah…" Melanie hung her head, shielding her face with her hair.

"Who was she?"

Melanie pressed her lips together. The familiar, heavy weight that sat on her shoulders at the mere mention of her name came. But she was tired. Tired of it crushing her. Tired of it leaking all the air in her lungs. Tired of trying to hold it up. Jut tired.

"She was my best friend," Melanie stated. "From back home. We were next door neighbors. I've known her since I was born. She was…" she paused, swallowed, and continued, "she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever met in my life. She was there for me when no one else was." She lifted her head, looking over at Scott. "When I was younger I had auditory neuropathy. Do you know what that is?"

"No."

Melanie nodded. "It's basically when sound travels in your ear but it's not processed properly. It's like having constant static and background noise muffling what someone is saying. I had a moderate case. It made it hard for me to understand what people were saying. So I had to wear hearing aids. And I just wanted to be like everyone else. Kids made fun of me for it. I hated going to school. Hated people pointing it out and yelling at me 'can you hear me now?'" She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, lifting up some of the blood that stuck. "Mollie never made fun of me. We talked and played every day and she made sure to talk quietly so it didn't overpower my hearing aids.

"I'd be at her house playing all the time. She lived in a haunted house, actually." At Scott's stupefied expression she said, "For real, it was haunted. We'd go ghost hunting and everything. We always said that my hearing aids helped me ear the ghosts. It was so much fun. We did everything together." Melanie heaved a sighed. "Then, when we were seven we went to the nearby pond to go ice skating. It was getting warmer so we had one more chance to go before the ice was too thin. Apparently, it was warmer than we thought. We went ice skating and…next thing I know we both went under. The ice had given way.

"It's the coldest I'd ever felt in my life. It was like being stabbed by a thousand knives. It was so cold. I tried to grab her, tried to hold onto her but the current beneath the ice was too strong. We were separated. Our parents managed to get to us. I don't know how long I was under but it was enough that the next thing I knew, when I woke up, I was in the hospital. …Mollie didn't make it.

"We moved at the end of summer. I think when we moved to Beacon Hills my parents were doing it to help me get away from what happened. But I couldn't just…accept it. Everything reminded me of her. Y'know when I had to be pulled out of classes sometimes?" Scott nodded. "I was in speech therapy. Auditory neuropathy messed up my speech, it's why I didn't talk a lot when I first got here. So I read a lot. I read anything I could get my hands on about ghosts and spirits. I figured if her house was haunted that meant there was a chance she was still around too and I could find a way to get in contact with her."

"Ohhhh. Wait…was that why you had that Halloween party that one year? Where we took out the Ouija board?" Scott asked.

"Yeah." Melanie chuckled at the memory. She had convinced her parents to allow her to have a Halloween party in fifth grade after begging for a year. Scott, Stiles, Matt, Isaac, Greenberg, and Tracy Stewart were the only ones that came (Erica had the flu). They watched Halloweentown and gorged on candy and bobbed for apples. The big part of the night was when Melanie brought out her Ouija board and got them to try and contact the spirits from beyond. In the end it turned into them trying to sacrifice Stiles to the underworld for scaring them all half to death when he hid from them. "I tried everything I could think of to get her back. I used to even think I was a witch and could raise her from the dead using a bunch of spices from the spice rack. Nothing worked but I enjoyed what I read about the paranormal and then I moved onto the supernatural. And when I got into middle school I got into mythology, which is like those stories but they're real. I know the others think it's strange but…it's all I have left of her.

"I ended up growing out of my AN. I was lucky, most kids live with it for the rest of their lives. But I didn't forget how the other kids made me feel. So when I met Erica and I saw how others treated her…. I know how she feels. I know how much it hurts and I don't want her or anyone hurting if I can help it. No one deserves to hurt like that."

"Mel, I…I'm so sorry. That must've been tough. Does Erica know?"

Melanie shook her head. "No, I've never told her. I don't want her knowing what happened. I already know I could have done more. Something, anything to save Mollie. But I couldn't. And I didn't. And I can't bear her knowing about it. So I'm doing it now."

"You were just a kid," Scott said softly. "I don't think anyone blames you for what happened."

"I do," Melanie replied. She blinked rapidly, getting rid of the tears that threatened to fall down her cheeks. "She wouldn't want me to sit around and do nothing if I can help someone." And she hoped, after all this time, the guilt would go away but it still followed her around

Scott reached over and grasped her hand, lacing their fingers together. Her breath wavered and her heart skipped a beat when he gave her hand a squeeze. "You're so nice to everyone else. I think you need to be nicer to yourself sometimes."

She looked at him. Looked into his kind, dark eyes, looked at his warm smile, looked at hi thick lashes and the sweetest, most understanding expression on his face. She squeezed his hand back, as hard as she could muster. And she knew she should tell him about Allison knowing, she knew she should tell him everything that she'd been through with the hunters. But she also knew she'd never get a moment like this again; where Scott's mind wasn't on Allison for once and his problems with being a werewolf, and the alpha lurking around outside, and it felt like before. Before the New Year. Before everything changed. When everything was easier. Back when it was the rare moments when it was just the two of them hanging out. So she rested her head on Scott's shoulder and got comfortable. It was going to be a long night.

# # #

Sunlight burst in through the cocoon she had made of her blankets and assaulted her eyes, causing another wave of nausea to crash through her. She grabbed her blanket and pulled it over her head completely, sealing herself in darkness. Her face throbbed, her scalp felt tight, as if someone were pulling on her hair, and any bit of sunlight that managed to get in made it all worse. Melanie had suffered from migraines before but this one took the cake.

The minute sun broke over the horizon signaling the next morning Scott went on patrol to ensure that Peter had indeed gone and his stale scent wasn't a fluke. She couldn't see him but she did see the massive dent he put in the store's back door. Another thing to add to the list to fix.

She made it back home safe and sound, planning on attending school. After all she still had a gym to finish decorating, the formal was the next night. She showered, washed up the dried blood leftover from her now healed wounds, and changed her clothes. The minute she looked out the window in her room to be sure the surrounding area was secure the migraine had set in and left her confined to her bed. She called into the school imitating her father to excuse her form classes for the day.

What am I going to do? If she helped the hunters get to Scott then Peter would hurt her mother. If she helped Peter get to Scott then the hunters would kill her mother. Two choices, both with terrible outcomes. If only there was a secret third option.

The saliva in her mouth thickened and she felt a punch to her gut. Groaning, she forced herself to roll out of bed. She landed on the floor with a thud, startling Nova awake and rushed to the bathroom. She barely had the toilet lid up when her stomach contents spurted past her lips and landed in the bowl with a splash. Her stomach clenched and her back arched with every heave. Her throat burned, her head pounded, and her vision blurred. Finally her body settled and, with shaky hands, she pushed herself away from the toilet and grabbed onto the sink. She pulled herself up onto her feet, holding onto the cool porcelain for support.

She stood. She closed her eyes. Opened them…and found herself standing in the middle of the woods. Darkness surrounded her, her breath came out in front of her like a puff of smoke. Fog whirled around her; the moonlight from above casting an odd glow on the back side of it. In the distance, she could hear the heavy bass beats of music. Loud music.

She took a step forward. A twig snapped beneath her feet. Brush rustled off to her right. She whipped her head around. The curls in her hair bounced. She squinted, spotting a red beam off in the distance. A laser? She'd seen it once before. Mr. Harris told them something about the dangerous of messing around with them. But who would have a laser beam out in the woods?

Someone who's looking for someone.

She heard a crack and blinked. Her reflection stared back at her, blood dripping down her nose. Hastily, she grabbed at the nearby roll of toilet paper and wiped at her nose, thinking back to the odd scene. She still felt the cold air on her skin, still heard the creaking sound of the woods. She clenched her jaw. That's it, then.

Melanie went back to her room and grabbed her phone, quickly pulling up the contacts. She chose the name and held her phone up to her ear. It picked up on the first ring.

"Give the phone to Scott."

"Damn, Mel. It's wonderful to talk to you too. How are you today?"

Melanie rolled her eyes. She wasn't in the mood for Stiles's dramatics this morning. "I'm fine. Give the phone to Scott."

"I'm fine myself, thanks for asking. Kinda had a hard time sleeping last night. Y'know, just thinking about how we could all just let the hunters and the Alpha just eliminate each other and we'd all be fine."

"Stiles! The phone!"

"Fine, fine. Geeze. Someone spit in your cereal this morning?"

Melanie rubbed her forehead as she heard shuffling on the other end. The moment she heard Scott's greeting she relaxed. "Hey, I'm just making sure you made it to school today."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Made it safe. And you?"

"I'm good too."

"I didn't see you when I got in."

She licked her lips. "I'm not going to school today. I…have somewhere else I need to be."

"Oh, okay. Be careful, alright? Call me if you need anything. …And tell my mom I'm alright."

"I will, Scott. And thanks again."


a/n - So...hi! I know it's been so long since I updated. I hope there are still people around reading this story, even though the show has ended. Even though it's been over a year since I updated. As noted on my profile I got into an accident at work that messed up my hand but after that, well, I have no excuse. I lost confidence in my writing and I lost motivation. But I kept watching the show and as it got closer to the series ending I knew that I couldn't just let this story end with it. I have a story that I want to tell and I want to share with you all so here's me coming back to finish what I started. Plus, it doesn't hurt that I need more EricaxMelanie in my life.

So here's part two! Originally the formal was going to be in this chapter (hence the chapter title) but my time away gave me time to outline this story to better help my ideas flow in a clear manner. So, instead, we finally got into Melanie's backstory; why she goes out of her way to help and support those around her plus we learn the catalyst of her supernatural obsession. Did any of you catch the hint within her backstory about her siren abilities? Just think about what sirens are known for.

There was a lot of ScottxMelanie in this chapter; it's a friendship that I love and wanted to showcase. The innocence and pure need to help people that they have in common is so sweet to me. But will it hold up when Scott learns that Melanie didn't tell him that Allison knows about werewolves? We shall see! Things get heated leading into the formal and there will be plenty more EricaxMelanie coming in to whet your appetite.

While working on this chapter I am going back and steadily revising the other chapters to help the story flow better and to fix continuity issues. Plus, I have a new author name! I wanted my FFN profile, tumblr blog, and twitter to all have the same name so you can find me at Cerulean Musings on all three sites. Follow me if you're so inclined (links are in my profile)!

Thank you to all that were so patient with me in waiting for me to give you an update. I hope you're out there still reading this. To my new readers, I hope you all enjoy what I have in store! Please read and review. Constructive criticism is welcomed!

~Musings