Thanks for all the reviews guys :D sorry for all the swearing and innuendos in my fanfics, but it's part of Isaac and Claire's personalities to curse alot and most of the chapters are done from their perspective. Plus I wanted to capture real conversations between teenagers, not the toned down versions.

Anyway, here you go, hope you enjoy.

Isaac

Okay, so we skipped school but what do you expect? We're werewolves. Well, 80% of us are and the other 20% add on is courtesy of our favorite little shit.

Believe me, if I'd had anyone else to ask, I would have. But Erica and Boyd are dating and I don't want to go out with a human. The very thought makes me sick to my stomach. That left Claire my only option. But the kid's a bitch. If there had been anyone else, I would never have even told Claire. She was finding it hilarious. I could tell by the gleam in her eye when I forced my hand into hers. She flinched away from me, but I squeezed her towards my chest. I hoped Erica couldn't smell how tense we both were because if Erica could, that meant Laura would definitely be able to tell.

After we buy ice creams, Erica, Boyd and Ella dance away and I distract Claire. "You see that?" I say, pointing down an alleyway shadowed by two buildings. "Look, over there?"
"I can't see anything," Claire mutters but she follows my finger in the direction I'm pointing and starts walking. I roll my eyes. What an amateur mistake to make.
I yank her by the shoulders, and slam her against one of the concrete walls. Her head snaps back and hits the brick. I smell blood. I try to ignore it but she's shrieking like a mad woman. "What the fuck?! You dick! Get the hell away from me!" Her claws extend and I can see her eyes glowing, becoming as florescent as strobe lights.
I dig my own fingernails deeper into her shoulders. "Stop being so prudent," I chastise, "What are you even afraid of?"
"Well, how about the fact that every time I try to get close to you, you end up attacking me, asshat!" she snarls and I drop her.
She swipes at her shoulder as if wiping away invisible pieces of dust. I scan her over. "You're afraid, aren't you?" I conclude. "Afraid of being with someone."
"No," she responds, her eyes lighting up again, "I'm not. I just don't want to be with you."
The words sting. "Fuck you." I spit, "You are scared. You're scared shitless otherwise you wouldn't flinch when I touch you."
"Okay," she says, her face pulling into a frown. "So, I'm scared of intimacy. Who cares? You're paying me six hundred bucks for this, remember?"
"Which is why we need to talk about this…" I begin, leaning my head against the far wall. Why did Erica have to go putting ideas in Laura's head that my girlfriend is goddess-standard? Claire's more like Fenris.
"About how to fool Derek's sister?" she asks me gently. She sucks in a breath before sighing, "Okay….so, how do we pass a werewolf lie detector?"
I roll my shoulders. Thinking for a moment. "We've got to smell like each other." I say automatically.
"Okay, so, what? I bring some stuff over to keep at…wherever the hell you live?" having girl stuff in my room doesn't exactly sound thrilling but I nod anyway. "Clothes? Toiletries? That kind of thing…"
"We need to touch each other - hold hands…" I add innocently.
She rubs at her eyes, blinking away weariness. "She can hear our heartbeats, right?" – I nod – "So we've got to learn how not to kill each other all the time, then."
I roll my eyes. "The joy."
"We might even have to bump up our relationship status to frenemies…" she trails off and glares at me, "Or acquaintances."
"Fine, but having each other's stuff isn't all," I say, "We'll have to go further. Rub off on each other."
Her eyes go wide; "Piss off," she snarls, "No way in hell am I doing that with you!"
What is she talking about? Sitting next to each other, hugging one another, maybe a little kissing on the side is no big dea-

Oh. Oh.

"Not like that, you moron," I roll my eyes, "I mean hug each other, just get your scent around me somehow."
She appears displeased and her face is pulled into a scrutinizing look. "Good," she exhales, "So, when has this got to start?"
"Like, today," I stress the words, "She's here on Sunday." The day after the full moon. It would have been better if she'd been here, to help the pack. Full moons are okay now we can control ourselves. No need to be locked up or chained down. Instead I can just sit on the couch and play on the Xbox until I accidently break the controller or Boyd beats me. But this moon it'll be different. We'll have the Kanima to contend with, plus the added threat of the hunters. Laura's being trying to reason with them because Derek is too stubborn and proud to back down. But she's struggling and they're pretty hell-bent on killing us all. Luckily they don't know about the DeVoue Manor, our current place of residence (which is owned by Laura), but daren't think what they'll do when they eventually find us.

I look at Claire and weird sense of protectiveness fills me.

Claire rolls her eyes at me. "You're an idiot, you know," the side of my mouth pulls into a smirk. Believe me, I know I'm an idiot. She's said it enough times these past four days I'm starting to believe it myself. "So, I'll stay at your house tonight. I'll tell my mom I'm at Erica's and hopefully she won't find out where Erica actually lives." She cringes as if the thought is utterly unbearable. "Warn Derek, fyi, and Stiles – I'm guessing he's around there a lot."
I give her a lazy salute, "Yes ma'am."
"Shut up!" she grins, flashing me her canines.
We stand in awkward silence for a moment. The alleyway is beginning to smell too heavily like us, and I know it's time to move on. If there are any other werewolves in Beacon Hills – which I doubt but Derek is convinced – then they'll be able to catch our scent and follow it. My sour ginger and lemon smell and Claire's…crap, I don't even know what she smells like.
I walk over to her and inhale the air around her throat. She gives me a wide eyed look but doesn't question. "Chocolate," I finally conclude. "Chocolate, strawberries and cream. How quaint."
"Dude," she says in a low voice, "Kind of…personal."
"Claire," I say for what feels like the thousandth time. "Laura going to be analyzing us, watching us all of the time. She's going to be asking questions, listening to our heartbeats, smelling us. This is going to suck ass."
She pinches the bridge of her nose. "Why are boys such morons?" she asks herself, "Why couldn't you have just told her the truth?"
"Because it's Laura," I whine, "She's been trying to mate me for half a year now."
"Whoa," Claire growls, "Let's get one thing straight. I'm not your mate, fucker. I'm your girlfriend. Not some sex toy."
I want to contradict her, but causing any unnecessary arguments will just drive an even deeper wedge between us and however much I want to taunt her, I can't afford that right not. "I hate you so much, you know," her voice is low, barely audible. "If you had just left me alone-"
"You'd be dead," I spit harshly. I move towards her and grab her by the arms, pulling her towards me. Her face is barely inches from mine and I feel like her eyes are two silver pools reflecting back at me like panes of glass. "So grow the fuck up. Yeah, you had a bad life, who cares? My dad used to kick the crap out of me; you don't see me moaning about it. You might think you're some useless piece of shit but you're not. People – people care about you. Your friend, Ella. Your mom. So stop acting like some helpless four year old."
She shakes beneath me. What's going on? She never breaks her composure like this. "I'll bring some of my stuff around to your house, but when this is over, when you've convinced Laura - I never want you to speak to me again. I don't care if we're in the same pack. Just – don't…" she trails off. I don't care about her words, what stuns me is that she hasn't exploded yet. Her silent, quavering voice is what terrifies me.

Have I broken her? Have I overextended the will power on my new plaything and snapped her like a cheap piece of plastic? I hate to think so, but she doesn't talk to me when we find the others or when we go to Pizza Hut. She just sits there, pushing the delicious food around on her plate and pretending to be happy.

Claire

"I'm staying at a friend's house tonight," I declared as I traipsed through the door. My mom was sat at the kitchen table, a bag of chips and dip leaning up against a stack of paper work that she was currently sorting through. Her glasses hung loosely off her nose and her hair was pulled back into a stiff ponytail as she scanned the pages in front of her.
Mom looks up from her work, beaming with pride. "Oh honey!" she says as I bend down and kiss her forehead. "That's wonderful."
"Calm down, mom," I say modestly, "It's only so we can get this project finished in time for tomorrow."
"Is it that lovely girl you told me about?" my mom asks quizzically, "Ella?"
"No," I sigh. I wish it was Ella, I really do. I had loads of fun with her and I'm sure the pack did too, even Isaac who refuses human contact most of the time. Isaac. I dig my nails into my hands until my palms ache, fingertips elongating into claws. The twinge of pain gives me an odd sense of relief. "Erica. She's a- she's my lab partner."

Lies. Lies. More lies. I'm going to get trapped in a spiral of them if I'm not careful.

Smudge is sat on the table, next to the bag of chips. He glares at me, as if he knows exactly what I'm thinking. My eyes flash and I pull my lips back into a snarl. The cat scampers. Mom shoots me an exasperated look. "Maybe you being away tonight might actually give the cat a chance to finally relax."
"Oh come on, he hates me!" I smirk at my mom and kiss her again before trotting upstairs. "See you later, mom!" I sprint up the stairs and push open my door.
My bedroom is the usual pit it is and I'm seriously surprised mom hasn't yelled at me yet. There are dirty clothes and towels piled up against a corner of the wall. Personal items are strewn everywhere; books hanging off the edges of shelves and sometimes not stacked at all; my school textbooks eclipse most of my desk space and my mascara wand is lingering unchecked on my history thesis. I curse and try to wipe away the blot of black make-up.

For someone who moves around so much, you might think I would have condensed a little, but I can't help it. I like having possessions, okay? So, shoot me because I still have stuffed animals on my bed and stickers decorating my notepads. I don't know, maybe it's to make up for my own crappy childhood.

I grab a duffel bag from one of the boxes I am still yet to unpack and think hard about things that smell like me, that I can afford to keep there. I'll be staying over a lot in the run up to the full moon – though I haven't told mom yet – and I'll need things to be there that I can find easily. I rummage through my barely filled closest and plucked out a handful of t-shirts. T-shirts are what I live on a part from the odd dress here and there. My t-shirts come in all ranges from graphic, to comedic, to multicolored ones, to ones with animals on. I grab a couple of t-shirts that don't fit me, seeing as I don't have any pajamas. God, now that was going to be embarrassing. I would have to busy some. I grab a battered leather jacket hanging off the rail and shove that in there, as well as about half a dozen hoodies in blue, red and black and even some cardigans. I have way too many clothes.
I toss a pair of Converse and sneakers in. I rip open one of my draws and toss in sweat pants plus some jeans that are frayed and scuffed at the edges. Finally, I move to the last draw. A challenge I was inevitably going to have to face: underwear.
Because for one, all my underwear was slightly skimpy (no one ever sees, therefore I am not a slut) but I didn't like the thought of these lying around in the Hale house. I blanched at the thought of Isaac ever seeing them.
Carefully, I picked up a couple of pairs of knickers and some bras for the journey. I tried to go for the most modest of them. I ducked into the back and reached for a couple of socks – all types: neon, black, white, multicolored, patterned, the works. I don't screw around when it comes to socks.

I glanced around my room for personal belongings. I made for my laptop – I still had a couple of essays to start and it would give me an excuse for using up their Wi-Fi at Isaac's expense. I also stuffed a few toy animals in there because, screw maturity and also because Isaac had told me to get my smell around him and these things absolutely reek of me.
I grab a stack of paperbacks from my bookshelf. Then I run into the bathroom and come back with a handful of shampoo, conditioner, deodorant, unused soap and other toiletries. I shove my make-up in plus all my school books I'll need for the next day. I grab my notebook of ideas plus my IPod and I'm all set to go.

I spin on my heel and take a long look around my bedroom. If I had known this would be the last time I'd be seeing it for a while maybe I would have made a bigger effort to say goodbye to my mom and my home but instead, oblivious to any danger that was to come, I spun on my heel and stamped out the door – stomper boots sounding like gunshots against the hardwood floor.

I was approaching the gated entrance to the DeVoue manor when Erica rang me. I debated ignoring it for a moment, seeing as I was almost there but then I told myself I was being stupid and forced myself to answer.
"Hey loser," Erica greeted cheerfully. I strained to hear her over the noise in the background. "Where are you?"
"Just coming up the drive," I had to shout to be heard. I frowned at the phone and started yelling again, "Why does it sound like you're under fire?"
"Apparently I live in a fraternity house," she responded as the sound of gunfire, swearing and shouting heightened.
"We're training!" four voices snapped in what seemed like perfect unison. I could practically feel Erica rolling her eyes down the other end of the phone.
"Train yourself to do some laundry!" she called back to them. "So, how far-? Never mind, I can see you now!" she called cheerfully.

Stiles

I swung the door open to find Claire facing the house, staring up in awe at the three-storey farmhouse. It wasn't that impressive – a bit shabby and simple from the outside but the pioneer-style cabin was large enough to house the four current residents that lived there with plenty of extra room for visitors. There were six bedrooms in total. Erica's, Isaac's, Boyd's and Derek's (which I shared with him often) and two guest bedrooms that would soon be occupied by Claire – who would be staying overnight to help Isaac with something (bow chika wow-wow) and Laura – the house's proprietor.
The original building had burned down during the Salem witch trials – even though we were nowhere near Salem. The locals had been superstitious and scared witless of every single little thing but – considering the Hale lineage stretched back centuries – maybe they had been right to be terrified of what goes bump in the night.
Anyway, as soon as she'd laid eyes upon it, Laura had fallen instantly in love and despite Derek's protests, she'd hooked the pack in on her scheme and had done all her own renovations forking out a couple hundred grand from the family's life insurance.
Now it actually was a home, even if Derek spent as much time away from it as possible. He had a job now, sort of. He wrote articles on climate change – of all things – for some top-notch newspaper. It was an ideal job for Derek. He could work from home without having to interact with people (which was a big no-no) the only thing he had to worry about was deadlines but I kept him on track.
"Are you going to stand there all day or are you coming in?" I called from the porch, leaning against the doorframe. I could tell what she was thinking. The house looked like it belonged on a Louisianan plantation rather than slap bang in the middle of California. The rosebushes under the leaded glass windows cast strange shadows against the old brick work in the late evening light and the old oak trees made the DeVoue house look antique and stately even if the inside was a totally different story.
Claire appeared to shake herself out of her dreary state. "Yeah," she yelled back to me, "On my way up."
The Pack probably smelled her before she got here because for the last five minutes two out of three of them have been making an effort to tidy the place up a bit. The DeVoue manor always looked like a pig sty but with Jackson and the hunters to worry about, the household had been thrown into a state of disrepair, but I loved every treated inch of it. Even Derek's pinched face at the window as he scrolled through the books on his shelves, grasping for information about our deadly new threat.
The screen door creaked as I opened it and soon I was leading her through the hall and into the living room, where the sound was emitting. Isaac, Boyd and Scott where splayed across the twin set of couches, controllers in one hand and effortlessly grabbing handfuls of Doritos from a large bowl in the center of the coffee table. Scott was leaned forward in his seat with a determined look on his face, as Boyd waved a huge hand in front of his face to distract. Isaac lay casually across the second couch; tapping away at controls and yelling swear words whenever someone on the screen shot at him. "What the hell, man?" he flailed as Scott's avatar flung a knife at Isaac's avatars head.
Derek entered the room, rolling his eyes at their immaturity. He briefly scanned his book case before plucking a thick, leather bound chronicle from the middle of the top shelf and returning to the kitchen that seemed like a more peaceful choice.
"Move over, asshole." Claire sighed, shoving Isaac's feet from off the edge of the couch.
"You move over, moron." He replied without glancing away from the screen.
"If I wanted my own comeback, I would have wiped it off your mom's chin."
I bit back a laugh. They really were perfect for each other. Isaac reached across and smacked her across the back of the head. Claire elbowed him in the solar plexus so hard he almost dropped the controller. I smiled at Derek when I caught his eye before returning to the hall to lock the door.
As soon as I entered the hall, I could sense something was off and I wasn't talking about the crappy music blaring from Erica's room. I went over to one of the windows and stared out.
There, on our front lawn, were about half a dozen hunters plus a face I recognized. Allison.
"We're just here to talk," Chris Argent called, stepping forward a step. I kept my eyes trained on his gun. "We want to call a ceasefire. Is Laura here?"
I thought about lying but that might just make the situation worse. "No," I said cautiously, "And I doubt you'll get anything out of Derek. Come back on Sunday."
"Please, Stiles," Allison begged, "There's not much time- look, let us in or we'll have to take other means."
"What-?" I began, but then Scott appeared next to me and pushed me backwards into the house. "Stiles, get Derek, now. And tell the others to meet us in the kitchen, ASAP. Can you do that?"
I nodded, not letting my eyes leave the hunters into the very last moment. I turned into the living room to find three werewolves already on high alert. "What is it?" Boyd demanded.
"Trouble," I replied, "Big time."