Finding Your Way Home

A/N: Hi everyone! I hope you are enjoying the story so far. I'm still in the planning stages, so other than a broad, general idea I don't exactly know where we are going with this one yet. If you have any input, I'd love to hear it. For now though, enjoy the next chapter!

Chapter 2: Falling Apart

The flight to France had somehow managed to be both horrendously long and over before he could even realize it. Isaac still wasn't entirely sure how that worked, but he chose to just go with it for now. After his impromptu chat with Stiles, he had managed to slip into line and find his seat next to Argent. For a long time the older man didn't say anything to him, choosing instead to alternate between glaring daggers at him and giving him a look that almost resembled pity. Almost. It was unnerving, to say the least, and was a large part of why the flight had been so miserably uncomfortable. The other part was something Isaac hadn't even considered until he set foot in the airplane and froze in place. He had never been in an airplane before, so he hadn't really thought about how tight and enclosed it would be. Once the doors were sealed shut, he was essentially trapped thousands of feet above the ground, surrounded by dozens of smelly, gross people, and confined to his not-quite-large-enough seat. It took every ounce of willpower and strength he had in his body to not wolf-out and begin attacking the passengers and stewardesses.

By the time they had landed in Paris, Isaac was beyond ready to get out of the plane. He raced to the front the moment the wheels touched the ground and was the very first person out the door, not even noticing that he'd left his carry-on behind. The wolf blindly stumbled through the crowd, quickly locating a closed food vendor and, breaking the lock on the door, barreled inside, collapsing on his hands and knees and finally allowing the shift to come with a roar of frustration. His vision blurred and he gasped for breath, struggling to rein it all back in now that he had released his inner beast. A couple of minutes later, Argent cautiously walked into the kitchen and shut the door behind them, checking to make sure they weren't on camera or being watched by curious tourists and weary travelers.

"Isaac, you need to get ahold of yourself, right now! This is an international airport and we are surrounded by thousands of people. Find your anchor and get the wolf back under control before you are seen," the hunter practically growled in furious disapproval, dropping both of their bags on the floor.

"I… I… I can't," Isaac whimpered in reply, voice distorted by the fangs. "My anchor… isn't here… and the smell, the tight space, it's all… it's too much!"

Argent sighed, shaking his head, before reaching into his bag. "Just so you know, I didn't want to have to do this to you." Before Isaac could reply, he had pulled out a gun, deftly taken aim, and fired. The bullet lodged itself in Isaac's arm, the pain searing through him and causing him to roar again. "Be quiet!" Argent ordered angrily, "are you trying to get us caught?"

"No," Isaac panted, flopping onto his side to inspect the wound and gasping for breath. "You shot me, what did you expect?"

"I expected the pain and the wolfsbane to force you to shift back to being human," Argent said, observing the wolf with grim satisfaction. "And I see it worked."

"Still hurts though," Isaac muttered under his breath. "And how did you even have a gun with you to shoot me anyway? I thought you weren't allowed to bring those on airplanes."

"Hunter," was the simple retort, which caused Isaac to half-laugh, half-groan. "Now, since you are human once more, let's burn the wolfsbane out of your system and get out of here before you relapse again." Isaac didn't answer, instead choosing to hold still and bite his tongue while the Hunter got to work removing both the wolfsbane and the evidence that they had been in this part of the airport. With a simple nod of the head in thanks, the younger of the two grabbed their luggage and followed silently as they made their way through the maze of corridors back to the outside world. They remained silent as Argent located one of his many contacts to make arrangements for a car and room for the night. It wasn't until they were on the road again, Isaac sitting contemplatively in the passenger seat watching the city go by, that they broke the silence between them.

"Did Stilinski have anything useful to say before we left, or was he just being his usual, obnoxious self?" Argent asked, glancing over at the wolf and relaxing now that he seemed to be calm and back in control. The flight over had been extremely tense for him as well, having to remain hypervigilant the entire time once he realized how much of a struggle Isaac was going through on the plane. The teens' conversation in Beacon Hills had been on his mind since they left, but he hadn't had the opportunity to ask until now.

"He was upset that I didn't stop to say goodbye," Isaac replied solemnly, coming back out of whatever reverie he had lost himself in. "He wanted to know if we were still friends." He also made me promise to go back if what I'm planning doesn't work out, but there's no need to go into that right now, Isaac added mentally.

"And are you?" Argent questioned with more than a hint of malice.

"Um, yes?" was Isaac's uncertain response. The lanky teen folded inwards on himself, as though attempting to hide inside the car seat. "I mean, out of everyone in Beacon Hills, Stiles is probably the one I'm closest to now. He seems to understand me better than any of the others, and he's definitely easier to talk to than Scott or Derek or Lydia, as long as you can get past all the spazzing out and sarcasm and stuff."

"He has also been at the scene of the crime every time I've lost a family member this past year, and he outright murdered my daughter," Argent reminded the wolf, venomously.

"Hey, that's… that's not his fault," Isaac defended, though he couldn't meet the older man's eyes as he did. "I don't really know what happened with Kate, but I do know Stiles had nothing at all to do with Victoria or Gerard. That's all on Derek and Scott. And as for Alli… Allison. She was ki… she was taken by the Nogitsune, not Stiles. He wasn't in control of what was happening."

"So he says," Argent replied, sighing as a defeated look took over his features.

"You don't believe he was telling the truth?" Isaac asked, uncertain of how to approach that idea. "I listened to his heartbeat when he told us what was going on; it didn't sound like he was lying to me."

"There are ways to lie to a werewolf, if you know what you're doing. We hunters train ourselves to be able to. The trickster spirit obviously knew how to also, since none of you caught on to the possession even though he was right there with you all. It's not that much of a stretch to think Stiles could have lied to us when he told us what happened," Argent answered, tone flat and clinical, betraying none of the underlying emotions behind his words.

"Oh," was all Isaac could really think to say, and they lapsed back into silence once more until they reached their hotel. Both men were exhausted from the lack of sleep and the long flight, so rather than continue their discussion they simply checked into the hotel for the night and went their separate ways.

Isaac entered his hotel room and looked around with a mixture of sadness and resignation. Is this what the rest of my life is going to be? Just staying in hotel rooms and being alone? He collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to will himself to sleep. I wonder what Stiles is up to right now, he thought to himself. Probably causing some sort of mischief for his father to deal with, he thought with a small smile. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to just check in with him and let him know we arrived safely. He quickly pulled out his phone, debating on whether to call or text his friend. What time is it in California right now? He glanced at the flashing alarm clock on the nightstand by his bed, before realizing that it wouldn't help him since he was now several time zones away. Deciding it was better to not accidentally disturb the young man if he was sleeping, since he was still recovering from everything that happened, Isaac sent him a quick text message. "Hey, we made it to Paris safe. Hope you are ok. Talk later?" Satisfied, he threw his phone back on the nightstand and quickly fell asleep with thoughts of a spastic teen running through his head, with only the occasional wolf chasing after him.

Isaac awoke the next morning feeling better rested than he had in weeks, so it took him a moment for everything to come crashing back down on him. The first clue was the comfortable, though unfamiliar, bed he was sleeping in. The second was the complete lack of familiar smells and sounds. He grabbed for his phone, checking the time and noticing with a frown that Stiles had not responded to his text yet. Surely he isn't still sleeping? Maybe the message just didn't go through, he thought to himself. Concerned and confused, he quickly typed out another and hit send before forcing himself the rest of the way out of bed so he could get washed up and ready for the day.

Half an hour later, and still with no answer from Stiles, the very bemused wolf trundled down the hall to meet up with Argent. They walked to a nearby café in silence, both lost in their respective thoughts, neither speaking until after they had finished their breakfast. "So, um, now that we are here in France, what're you going to do?" Isaac asked, both curious and ashamed that he hadn't thought to ask earlier.

"The first priority is finding a proper place to secure the Nogitsune's prison," Argent replied ominously over his coffee cup. "I won't be able to rest until I'm certain that thing can't ever be released to feed on pain and chaos again."

"Um, right," Isaac replied uncertainly. "And how are we going to do that?"

Argent let out a half-grunt, half-laugh, which Isaac took as a good sign. At least the former werewolf hunter wasn't too upset with him. "I have an aunt who lives in Lyon. She's the matriarch of the French side of the Argent family. If anyone can think of a safe place to keep a supernatural creature that can't be destroyed, it's her."

"And your aunt… is she nice?" Isaac asked, quickly going on at the strange look he received in response. "I mean… is she going to be upset that, you know, I'm here?"

"Honestly, I have no idea," Argent said, looking contemplative. "I haven't had an actual conversation with Aunt Giselle in probably 20 years. She and my father had a nasty argument about something, she got angry, stormed off to France and has never come back. Since then our only correspondence has been the rare times when a threat faced both of our countries or was too big for one side of the family to handle alone."

"If you haven't spoken to her, how do you know she'll help? Do you even know where to find her?" Isaac asked, both curious and concerned.

"There's no need to find her. I flew into the country using my own passport; I'm sure by now she's heard of my arrival. Her people will come to me, probably before the day is over. And yes, she'll help, if for no other reason than that it's in her own best interest to have the Nogitsune contained as well. That thing's very existence is a threat to all of us." Argent shrugged, returning to the paper he was reading.

"Right. That makes sense," Isaac said, debating internally if he should press his luck and ask his next question or not. Throwing self-preservation aside, he chose to ask. "What about after that? Are you going to stay here?"

Argent looked back up, an unreadable expression on his face. "That depends on my aunt. I made my mind up that I'm now out of the hunting business for good, I owe that to Allison." Isaac cringed at the pronouncement, but the older man simply kept going. "I have contacts in France; not exactly friends, but allies, people I could work with on more mundane ventures. If Giselle will permit me to stay in the country, that is what I would most likely do."

And if she doesn't?" Isaac pressed.

"South America," Argent said nonplussed. "I've spent time working with the law enforcement agencies of several countries there."

"I see."

"Now that you know my plans," Argent continued, putting his paper down and giving Isaac his undivided attention, "mind telling me yours? You're an omega now, that's a dangerous condition to be in and I am in no position to help you find a pack. Nor, for that matter, is my aunt."

"I… well, I had a different plan in mind," Isaac stammered, looking away and scuffing his shoe against the pavement, knowing this was not going to end well.

"And that is…" Argent said ominously.

"I… I…," Isaac tried several times, before finally sighing and staring at the ground as he spoke. "I know what's going to happen to me. You, Derek, Stiles, Scott, you've all said the same thing. An omega eventually loses its mind, goes crazy, or rabid, I guess. I know what's coming. Actually, I think I can already feel it starting. The shift is getting harder to keep under control and I can't keep my mind focused like I should. So… I was hoping I could ask you to, you know, when the time comes, be the one to… stop me, before it goes too far and I hurt someone."

"No," was the quick and uncompromising reply, causing Isaac's eyes to dart up in incredulity.

"No? Why not? I thought that was part of the hunter's code, that you kill werewolves who are too dangerous to be left alive," Isaac's heartrate increased with his anger and frustration, his claws starting to extend as he struggled to keep the wolf at bay.

"That is the Hunter's Code, but I'm not a hunter anymore, as I've told you several times already," Argent replied with a calm and critical eye. "I will not help you commit suicide. My daughter created a new code for us, and I will not break it. Not for you, not for anything. I owe that to her and her memory. So you can forget that idea right now."

"But, but, what am I supposed to do then?" Isaac cried out in frustration. "There's already been so much pain and death," he continued, much more quietly. "I just don't want to be the cause of any more. I thought you of all people would understand and be willing to help." This statement was met with silence for several minutes.

"The problem is that I do understand, more than you know," Argent finally said. "And its because I understand that I can't be the one to give you what you are looking for. Allison would never forgive me if I did." Isaac didn't say anything, just continued to stare morosely at the table, as though the wood grain might contain the answers he was seeking. It was in that moment that Chris was struck once again by the reminder of just how young all of these kids are who got swept up in this crazy world that shouldn't exist. Conversations like this one should never have to happen, he thought to himself. Sighing, he continued aloud, "Look, I know it's not what you want to hear right now, but I think your best option would be to maybe take a few days to clear your head and then get a flight back to Beacon Hills. You could rejoin the pack there, and I'm sure Stilinski would be happy to have you back." He shook his head, struggling to even suggest something that might benefit the boy who murdered his daughter.

"I can't go back," Isaac mumbled, wrapping his arms around his midsection tightly as he closed in on himself once more.

"Alright," Argent continued, exasperated. "Then look for a pack around here. France has a longstanding history with both sides of the supernatural world, creatures and hunters. With your enhanced senses it shouldn't be too difficult to locate a wolf pack's territory, and they can either take you in or help you find a more suitable place to start over. But Isaac, you're 17, you're too young to just be throwing your life away like this. And… Allison wouldn't want you to."

"Yeah, well, Allison wouldn't have wanted to die either," Isaac retorted bitterly, instantly regretting the words and the pain he could feel wafting off the other man as he said them. "Sorry, I didn't mean…"

"No, you're right," the ex-hunter interrupted, "Allison would not have wanted what happened. But the difference here is that her death was not her choice. She died in battle, she sacrificed herself to help save all of you. If you go through with this plan of yours, if you choose to die the death of an omega, who benefits from your sacrifice?"

"Everyone," the wolf said simply, before rising and retreating back to his hotel room. He collapsed back on his bed, groaning in frustration. It was supposed to be simple, he thought to himself. I mean really, how many wolves has that man killed in his lifetime? What's one more? Why did he have to grow a conscience now? And all that nonsense about not throwing my life away. It's not like anyone would actually miss me or care that I'm gone. Everyone I cared about is already dead, and even my own father tried to kill me at one point. Who would benefit from my sacrifice? The better question is who would benefit from me staying alive? No one, that's who.

At some point in his mental ramblings, he must have fallen asleep, because the next thing Isaac realized was that it was the middle of the afternoon and the housekeeping lady was knocking at his door. With a mumbled apology that she clearly didn't understand, he leapt passed her and headed out the door and into the city. He walked aimlessly, looking at but not really noticing the various sites and sounds of one of the world's most famous cities. It all just seemed so meaningless to him.

His trek took him up a hill that overlooked the city. As he climbed, he noticed a strange looking building with several odd-shaped domelike structures with a flock of tourists surrounding it. I wonder what that's all about, he mused to himself as he ambled by. I bet Stiles could tell me what it is, he's probably researched everything there is to find on Wikipedia by now, he thought with a chuckle before coming to a sudden stop. Stiles. I wonder… He pulled his phone out of his pocket, turning it back on for the first time since breakfast. Nope, still nothing, he sighed, shoulders slumping in disappointment. Stiles, if I died here, would you notice that I was gone? Would you care that I broke that promise you forced me to make about coming back? Would you wonder what had happened to me? Or would you just move on and not care, like everyone else?

He continued on, finding a small park nearby to take refuge in from the crowds and be somewhat alone with his thoughts. I wonder what would happen if I asked you all those questions, he continued, his mind wandering aimlessly. The next thing he knew, without his permission, he noticed that he had dialed the phone number without meaning to, the ringtone unnaturally loud to his werewolf senses. "Hey, this is Stiles and you missed me! Leave me a message."

"Argh," Isaac groaned to himself, "Why couldn't you have picked up?" He was interrupted by the voicemail's annoying beep. "Hey, Stiles, um… I tried texting you, but you didn't answer. Maybe you didn't get them, or maybe you've been too busy to reply. But I… I was hoping I could talk to you about something. I need… I need your help making a decision. So please, please… call me back when you get this. I'll talk to you later… I guess," he said, growing more frustrated with himself as he spoke. I hope, he added internally. With a last, forlorn look at his phone, the wolf pocketed it and turned to head back to the hotel.

Darkness had begun to fall as he arrived at the hotel, causing Isaac to realize that he had now been in France for over a full day. The next thing he realized was that the only thing he had eaten in the last two days was his meager breakfast with Argent that morning (he had been far too distraught on the plane ride to even notice the in-flight meal offered to him). Distracted by his musings, he meandered towards the elevator to take him up to his floor when his phone suddenly beeped. A message! Frantically he clawed through part of his pants pocket to get his phone out and check to see what it said, his elation quickly turning to disappointment when he realized the text was only from Argent and not the boy he'd left behind in Beacon Hills. Sighing again, he flicked the screen open to read it as he made his way into his room.

"Isaac, I'm sorry I wasn't able to wait for you to return to the hotel. My aunt's men arrived shortly after you left and insisted I go with them immediately to see her in Lyon. I've made arrangements for you to be able to stay at the hotel for the rest of the week while you are deciding what you want to do. There's also money in the safe in your room for you to use to get food and whatever else you need. I urge you not to make any rash decisions, but ultimately I realize its your choice what you do next. I'm going to be unavailable while we work out what to do with the Nogitsune, but if you need to reach out you can still text me and I'll respond when I can. Take care of yourself, Isaac."

Isaac slumped on the bed, reading through the text a second time before typing out a quick thank you in reply. Then he collapsed backwards, lying flat and staring at the ceiling morosely. I'm alone, all alone, he thought bitterly to himself. Now what am I going to do? Hunger forgotten, the omega wolf slowly curled into a tight ball and drifted off to a fitful sleep, nightmares of the past haunting his dreams.

The week passed by slowly, one day dragging on into the next. Argent had not responded to the thank you text, nor had he said anything else since. That was to be expected, and Isaac didn't really care all that much. The thing that was slowly breaking his heart again was the fact that Stiles still hadn't returned any of his texts or calls, hadn't even acknowledged the wolf since he left Beacon Hills. Is he mad at me for leaving? Was he lying about being my friend and wanting me to be there? Why won't he text me back?

As the week continued ambling by, Isaac also began to notice the increasing difficulty he had in keeping the wolf side of him at bay. He'd accidentally flashed his golden eyes more than once in public, causing a fair bit of confusion that he wasn't mentally equipped to deal with or explain away. His sideburns were almost a permanent fixture on his face now, rarely receding no matter what he tried. The fangs popped out without his permission almost every time he ate anything, or even smelled food. And he'd learned to keep his hands in his pockets at all times when around other people because he never knew what his claws were going to do. It was another reminder that Isaac had only been a werewolf for about nine months; in truth, he hadn't completely mastered controlling the beastly side of him before becoming an omega.

By the end of the week, Isaac was at a complete loss as to what to do. With no word from Argent, or Stiles, or anyone else, and his time in his hotel room running out, he did the only thing he could think of. He packed what few possessions he had left and the remainder of the money Argent had given him in his duffel bag and ventured out into the wild with no idea where he was going to go or what he was going to do. Hopefully Stiles calls me back before I'm too far gone. Or else, hopefully a hunter or a werewolf finds me before I end up losing my mind completely and accidentally killing someone. Knowing it would be better for him to be away from the metropolis filled with people, he set off in a random direction, determined to keep walking until he was as far from civilization as possible. I'm sorry Allison… Scott… Derek… Stiles. I failed.

-o-

"Hey Mom, I brought you some dinner since you left in such a hurry this morning and forgot your bag on the table," Scott McCall said as he ambled his way into the busy ER to meet his mother at the nurses' station. Kira and Lydia trailed along behind him, one looking entirely unsure of why she was even there and the other hiding her emotions by being focused instead on checking her nail polish for cracks.

"Thanks, sweetheart, you are an absolute lifesaver," Melissa replied as she darted around the desk to give her son a quick hug and snatch the bag of food out of his hand. "I am absolutely starving and we have been so swamped all night long that I haven't had a chance to even stop to breathe, much less go to the cafeteria," she added as she stepped back behind the desk and took a huge bite out of the Thanksgiving leftovers in the Styrofoam container.

"Why is the hospital so busy, did something happen?" Kira asked, curious and concerned all at once.

"There was another major accident out on the highway," Melissa said, trying to talk around the food in her mouth. "Someone said something about deer trying to cross the road and causing it, but I don't know for sure. Been too busy to get more details than that."

"That's the third time this week that someone has hit a deer out on the highway," Lydia mused, thoughtfully. "I wonder if it means something?"

"I don't know," Scott replied, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. "God, I hope not. I'm not ready to get tangled up in anything else right now."

"Have the police said anything that might help us know if its… natural or not?" Lydia queried, turning her attention back to Melissa.

"Not that I've heard," the older woman said in response, standing back up to throw her now empty food carton away. "Parrish was here earlier, interviewing some of the ones who weren't hurt too badly, so you might check with him. The Sheriff… well, you know where he's been."

Scott stiffened at the pronouncement, eyes glancing involuntarily down the hallway that leads to the rest of the hospital. Focusing back on the people around him, he said "We'll go find Parrish then, I guess, and make sure we aren't needed."

"Scott," Melissa said softly, the concern that only a mother can have evident in her expression, "are you sure you won't go see him? Just for a few minutes?"

"No, Mom, I can't," came Scott's pained reply, his eyes screwed tightly together for a moment as he fought to maintain control. "I don't… I just… after everything that happened, after losing Alli… Allison and then him not even… not even coming to the funeral. I don't want to see him."

"Scott, you'll have to see him eventually though, won't you?" Kira asked, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "After all, he's part of your pack."

"No, he's not!" Scott half-shouted, tearing his arm away from her and turning to stare both Kira and Lydia down. "After what he did to all of us. After what he did to Allison. He's not a part of this pack anymore! Got it?" Not waiting for a response, he stormed out of the waiting area and into the parking lot, leaving the others behind gasping at his declaration.

"I'm sorry Melissa, but we really should…" Lydia began before being cut off.

"Go," Melissa interjected with a wave of her hand, "and take care of him for me, please. He needs you right now." Without another word the two girls took off after the alpha wolf, his mother watching the door they disappeared through forlornly. She was brought out of her reverie a few seconds later by the beeping of an alarm and forced to race off herself to tend to another patient.

In a far quieter part of the hospital, in an isolated, desolate patient room, the Sheriff of Beacon Hills sat morosely in a bedside chair, watching the gentle rise and fall of his son's chest. "Come on, Stiles," he pleaded, holding a limp hand between his own. "Why did you have to go to that stupid airport? I told you to stay home and take it easy! Now, it's been eight days since you collapsed. And I need… I need you to wake up. I need to know that I'm not going to lose you too."