A/N: Sorry for the wait! Unbetaed and not nearly enough description, but I suck at description anyway. Enjoy!

"How is it you even managed to find my phone number?" Deucalion bristled under the fluorescent lights. "I was under the impression it was unlisted."

The animal clinic was clean and bright. Almost offensively so. He supposed to the right people it may have come across as welcoming, but Deucalion was not one of those people. In fact, the sterility set him entirely on edge. Especially considering he knew just how easily sullied the clinic could be under the wrong circumstances. He tucked his fingers into his palm and pushed the sound of Ennis' skull cracking from his mind.

Alan smirked. "I have my ways."

"I suppose you're entitled to your secrecy…" Deucalion offered him a slow, dissatisfied blink to match his drawl, "But do get on with it."

The stocky man crossed his arms. Raising his brows, he cut right to the point (in his own, cryptic manner, of course)"You know why you're here."

"I have an idea." The Alpha of Alpha's clasped his hands in front of him and offered him a nod that wasn't quite disrespectful, but certainly a bit impish. "I sincerely apologize for my behavior."

Deaton's gaze narrowed subtly. It was difficult to tell if it was with annoyance or amusement, but that was hardly surprising when it came to Alan Deaton. "Do you mean assaulting me or turning my clinic into your own personal execution chambers?"

"Can't it be both?" Deucalion asked glibly.

"It can…" The human crossed his arms. Arching a brow, he waited for his former friend to continue.

With a deep inhale and pursed lips, Deucalion inclined his head. "I shouldn't have grabbed you. It was wrong of me and I apologize." When Deaton arched a brow, the man added, "Sincerely."

Alan rolled his eyes. With only a hum, he opened the gate and led the man into the back room. Ignoring Deucalion's distasteful tut as a few of the braver dogs dared to bark at him, the vet asked, "I take it you heard what happened with Isla."

The man went still. A thousand morbid scenarios ran through his mind. Each one worse than the last. Unable to catch his breath, he forced back the swell of regret and rage he felt at her very name. After a beat to compose himself, he cleared his throat. "Something happened?"

"Mhm." Turning to face him with grim features, Alan stuck his hands in the pockets of his lab coat. "I must say, I was surprised to learn you took my advice..."

Impatience flared in him. "Al-"

"Considering how averse you were to it in the first place." He raised his chin slightly, but his gaze stayed locked on the Alpha's face. "What changed your mind?"

Knowing he wouldn't get an answer until Alan did, Deucalion dropped his stare. "It was good advice."

"You don't sound entirely certain of that."

"Glad to see the years haven't dulled that razor sharp perception of yours, Alan." At the human's smirk, the werewolf softened. "You were right. I'm not ready to commit to having a female Beta. Especially not one-"

"You're in love with."

His jaw ticked, but Deucalion nodded.

Pleased by the humility, and perhaps the omission itself, Deaton was ready to get down to business. "If it makes you feel better, I wouldn't exactly say she's thriving."

Dread crept up the werewolf's spine and into his tone, "What do you mean?"

"From what I've heard, she's having considerable trouble with control."

"Of course she is!" Deucalion's shoulder jerked with agitation. Indignant and defensive, he felt his hands clench around the air where his cane had once occupied as his words came out rushed and haughty, "Control takes time, patience-"

The vet held up a hand. "I didn't tell you out of spite. I told you as a warning. Isla can't continue to cause a commotion, Duke." His features were stern but not unkind. "You know what will happen if she does."

"Shouldn't you be having this conversation with Scott?"

"I have." Alan frowned sympathetically at the man's obvious grief, but continued on regardless, "And Isla herself. She's trying her best, but she needs guidance. More guidance than Scott may be able to give."

"You know as well as I why I can't take her back."

"I know you're scared."

Deucalion's eyes flashed at him in warning.

The vet continued on undeterred, "I know you're scared of hurting her, of losing your pride and asking for her back, maybe even of being committed to her-"

The werewolf shook his head. Turning away from him, he made to leave. "We're done here."

"Duke-"

The man stopped in front of a cat cage. Opening it, he pulled a familiar calico out. The cat mewed, more out of acknowledgement than protest. Tucking it more or less into his jacket, the Alpha continued on his way. "I'm taking this."

"You can't just-" Alan huffed as the barrier slammed in the other room. "There are papers to fill out!"

"Fill them out yourself!" Deucalion supposed the vet would do just fine with them, given his penchant for digging up personal information.

Still, even through all his rage and frustration, worry shone through. Stepping out into the cool dusk air, the Alpha sighed. He didn't like the idea of Isla being on her own, of her being stuck in another precarious situation, but he had to give her time. Time to adjust, to adapt, and hopefully to thrive.

The cat in his arms mewed and he peered down at it. Thumbing a bit of orange fur behind its ear, Deucalion sighed. "Well. Let's get you home."

After dropping the cat off at his apartment (and dodging several questions from the freeloading former Alpha twins about where it had came from, what he wanted a pet for, and from Ethan, what its name was), the man found himself standing in the pet aisle of the local grocery store. Feeling rather lost, he frowned at the seemingly endless array of cat food.

This was his own fault. He scowled. He really needed to learn to reign in his impulses.

A theatrical gasp caught his attention, but he ignored it as he picked up a can of wet food.

"Oh my god!"

Deucalion recognized the voice. The human boy Scott was so taken with. He tuned an ear into his conversation, catching sight of him out of the corner of his eye. A man in uniform stood beside him, but the werewolf was hardly worried.

"What?" The Sheriff asked. He followed his son's gaze down one of the isles. Curious, he pointed to the lone man in khakis. "Isn't that Isla's boyfriend?"

"Monster ex!" Stiles corrected in a hiss. As he pushed his dad frantically back, he whispered a raspy, "Don't make eye contact!"

"He's blind, what're you- wait, that guy's a were-whatever, too?!"

"What did I just say about eye contact?!"

"That guy?" The older Stilinski pushed. "That guy's evil?"

The Monster Ex in question picked up a feathery cat toy and frowned. He couldn't totally fathom why the toys designed for cats seemed so much less dignified than the ones for dogs, but he tossed the small jingly mouse into the cart anyway. He could already tell the noise was going to grate on him, but maybe it would grate on the twins, as well. Maybe enough to get them the hell out of his condo and stop badgering him about his rogue, redheaded Beta.

"Obviously! Look at him!" Stiles shook his head. "Of course he has a cat! He probably strokes it in his lair like Dr. Claw!"

"Stiles. Control yourself."

"Control myself?" Completely indignant, the boy put a hand on his chest. "Me?! Arrest him!"

"I'm not arresting anyone! You can't just arrest the guy because you're jealous of your old babysitter's boyfriend!"

"Ex-boyfriend," Stiles corrected in an off the cuff, yet somehow incredibly insisting manner. "And he was too old for!"

The Sheriff sighed at his son. "Stiles, kid, it was never gonna happen."

"Do not ruin my Isla fantasy, okay? Stop it."

"Son, we need to talk about you fixation on redheaded girls."

"Most notably the ones out of your league," Deucalion added. His steps had been soundless on the linoleum floor and the boy visibly jumped as he appeared in front of them. Arching a brow, the Alpha supposed the young man had every right to feel threatened. It was flattering, almost, but simply showed how much harder Deucalion would had to work himself to disprove those instincts.

Stepping in front of his father defensively, Stiles squared his shoulders in a quick, jerky manner. "You didn't see me the first time, you blind old fuck!"

The Sheriff grabbed him by the scruff of his flannel shirt. "Stiles!"

"What?!" Stiles squirmed like a cat in a bag under his dad's hold. "He didn't!"

"Go wait in the car!"

'But-"

"Go! Now!"

"I am not-"

"Stiles. Now. Or I'll handcuff you the radiator every time I leave the house for the next month."

"Fine. I'll go." The boy's mouth twisted into a snarl as he stepped up to Deucalion. There was only an inch or two difference in height, but Stiles showed no fear as he glared into the man's grim blue eyes. ".But you touch my dad and you're dead, you got that, Demon Wolf?"

"Consider it got," Deucalion replied, not quite glibly, but with a certain amount of amusement that the human boy didn't appreciate one bit.

Still, he left the men in favor of pretending to go to the car. In reality, he simply moved an isle over and did his best to eavesdrop.

Once Stiles was out of eyesight, the Sheriff cleared his throat. He looked to Deucalion. The man smirked at him, and the Stilinski man found himself straightening. "We haven't been formally introduced. Noah Stilinski."

"Deucalion Alaric."

"Sorry to hear things didn't work out with Isla." The Sheriff pursed his lips. Stiles had been right. The man in front of him was too old for her.

Deucalion offered a firm nod. "She's a fine woman." He smirked, but it didn't quite reach his eyes and it was in that moment the Sheriff realized his son was right. "Perhaps she was out of my league as well."

"She's a good kid," Noah corrected. When the werewolf didn't respond to that, he apologized for his son's behavior. "He can be a bit overprotective of his friends."

"Isla and Scott are worth being protective about."

The Sheriff squinted. "You know Scott?"

"We...collaborated briefly while you and Mrs McCall, and the younger Argent were...indisposed."

The Sheriff's hand snapped out before he could stop himself. He could handle a werewolf, apparently the town was full of them, but he was not going to stand for having the man, the murderer, Stiles and Scott had warned him about stand in front of him. Not without getting in a warning of his own. "You stay the hell away from my son."

Deucalion looked down at the material twisted in the man's hand. "I was hoping to, until he began shrieking about my business."

"And stay away from Scott and Izzie, too," The human continued.

"I meant no harm."

Ignoring the man's quiet words, he let him go and stormed out of the store.

His son scampered after him.

Over the course of a week, Isla's life had fallen into an easy pattern. She got up, went to work, and went home. Occasionally, Scott would poke his head in and check on her, but for the most part, she kept her distance. Having him around, especially in her apartment, made her uncomfortable. After expressing this to him, the young man had given her Alan Deaton's phone number.

"It's most likely just a residual complication from the severance of your Alpha bond," the not-so-ordinary veterinarian explained. "In time, if you accept Scott as your Alpha, I'm sure you'll have a much easier time being around him."

"But I have accepted him," The woman told him. Her phone tucked safely under her chin, Isla glanced around the storage closet. It was a bit drafty and smelt heavily of cleaning products and stale air. Rubbing her arm, she shook her head. "Why does it feel so…"

"Unnatural? Unnerving?"

"Well, yeah. I thought I just had to stay away from Duke and things would work themselves out?"

"Yes, but that's only one piece of the puzzle, I'm afraid. You obviously still care for him."

"But-"

"I'm not saying you're resisting Scott on purpose. I'm just saying that, on a subconscious level, it's still your instinct to follow Deucalion. It's natural. You just need more time."

"I don't have time, Alan." Isla licked her lips and spun to plant her back against the shelves. The cleaning supplies sloshed in their bottles, but she resisted the urge to gag at their smell. "The full moon's next week and I'm going out of my fucking mind here."

"I know. Scott told me what happened at the diner."

Claws out and eyes glowing, Isla snarled, "That son of a bitch!"

"I hope you don't mind, but I'd like to offer you a bit of advice."

Fangs grinding together, she grit out a terse, "Go ahead."

"Arrange a meeting with Deucalion."

There was a brief pause before her reply came, "Are you out of your fucking mind?"

He chuckled at the blunt words. "I expected you might have some hesitations, but I'm completely serious. I think it would be good for the both of you."

"Have you seen him?"

"Once or twice." Deaton frowned at the sight of the empty cage a few feet from him and at her helpless tone. "I could ask him on your behalf. Scott, too. Arrange a meeting between the four of us to go over the difficult time you seem to be having." At her irritated hum, Alan clarified, "The difficult time you're all having, but I would like to see the two you interact one on one, if you're comfortable with the idea."

"I don't know." Voice catching, Isla fiddled with the hem of her hideous uniform skirt. She knew it was wrong, that it was petty, but it was nice to know Deucalion wasn't having the easiest time after dumping her into Scott's lap. "What if it makes things worse?"

"For who?"

Isla was quiet, but only a moment. "You were the one who told him to get rid of me, why do you suddenly care about how we cope?" The question came out softer than she wanted. She wanted to hiss and spit and rage, but mostly she just wanted to sleep.

"I don't, but I do care about the target the two of you put on Scott's back with your recklessness." Alan frowned at her sigh. "On how your impulsiveness puts not only yourselves but all of the supernatural community at risk."

"I'd never do anything to hurt Scott. Or his friends, or Duke, for that matter." the woman huffed and grabbed a fresh rag. Tossing the old damp one from her apron into the sink, she felt her fangs extend as she snarled, "Not that it's any of your fucking business, Deaton, but I'm trying my best here."

"I know. That's the problem."

Swallowing, she covered her face with the rag. "I hate this."

"I know."

Trying to breath through the tightness in her stomach, she bit her lip. She didn't like the thought of Deucalion being alone. "Is- is he-"

"Isla!"

The woman jumped as her boss banged on the door. For a woman well into her sixties, she had a considerable amount of strength. "Get off the phone! The Sheriff's here to see you!"

"Sorry Mrs. Daye! I'll be right out!" The redhead called to her before turning back to the Emissary on the line. "I gotta go. Thanks for listening."

"Anytime," Alan replied. "Except during office hours. That's my me time."

Rolling her eyes, but unable to keep from laughing, Isla hung up on him. She wasn't entirely certain what to make of the reclusive veterinarian, but she had to admit, he was slowly winning her over. Tucking her phone into her apron, she smoothed her hair back. With a deep breathe, she forced a smile and opened the door.

Mrs. Daye smiled. "There she is."

"Sorry. My doctor."

The elderly woman's smile fell. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine. Just checking up before my check up," The redhead lied with a grin.

"Oh good." Her boss patted her arm. Directing her over to the table, she told her, "Go say hello to your friends before you clock out."

""I told you-"

"And I told you," Mrs Daye interrupted, "That I don't care how good you're feeling. I don't want you closing anymore."

Isla clenched her jaw at the thought of losing hours to something as trivial as a little armed robbery. "But Jimmy will be here."

"Yes he will. And so will my Jakey and a few other boys, but no girls."

'Sexist."

"Careful." The old woman corrected. "Say hi to the Sheriff, take his order, then go hang up your apron, sweetie." She pinched her cheek. "You've been looking a little peaky lately. Go home, get some sleep."

Resisting the urge to scoff and smack the well-meaning hand away, Isla simply plastered a smile into place and approached her former employer. "Hey there, Mr. Sheriff Sir."

The man smirked. "Hey, Izzie."

"Coffee?"

"Nah. I got Stiles in the car." He gestured over his shoulder. Isla followed the line of his thumb to where Stiles was frantically flicking through radio channels on his CT scanner. "I just ran into that guy who walked you home."

She squinted, but stayed silent.

"He's a little old for you, isn't he?"

Isla rolled her eyes and hoped they didn't go yellow as she huffed, "Stop."

"He said you broke up."

The woman swallowed. She wasn't sure why that stung, but it did.

"He didn't try anything with you, did he, Iz?"

The redhead's glare sharpened. He was using his dad voice on her. The one typically reserved for trying to squirrel the truth out of Stiles. Over the years he had tried that voice on her several times, it several times it had failed. "No," she told him a bit impatiently. "It just didn't work out."

"Oh. Good. I was hoping you'd say that. I need a favor." At the alarm on her features, the Sheriff blushed. "No like that! Thanks for the vote of confidence, Isla, Jesus.

"Sorry." She offered him a small, apologetic smile. "You'd be surprised how many of my old employers try to put the moves on me. Something about a babysitter fantasy." Her nose wrinkled. "It's super gross."

"Yeah, it is." Blinking away his shock, he explained, "We got a new deputy. He could really use someone to show him around."

Isla arched a brow. "Oh?"

He offered her a charming smile that really didn't entice her in the least to help him. "I'd really appreciate it."

More like you'd appreciate not having to worry about me, Isla thought with a hint of bitterness, but she knew he was coming from a good place. Stiles had lost his mother around the same time she had her dad, and the Sheriff had tried, and failed, to step up for her. Just like he had failed Stiles. Jaw a bit tight, she tried to hide her fangs. She hated thinking about that. About the Sheriff's flirtation with alcoholism, but it came hard and fast and she suddenly just wanted him to go. For him to leave so she could go home.

"Is he…" She rolled her words thoughtfully around in her head but came up nil. "I mean, some cops can be kind of...you know."

The Sheriff touched her arm reassuringly and it took every bit of strength for Isla not to smack it off. She was getting sick of people touching her without her express permission. "Parrish is as nice as they come, I promise."

"Men are always nice when they come." The redhead pulled back from him. "It's the before and after parts I worry about."

"Wow, Izzie."

She shrugged without a hint of apology before licking her teeth. She thought of what Scott said about needing a new anchor, about what that pervert had said about getting over someone and found herself nodding. "Okay. I'll show him around."

Noah beamed. "Great! I'll give him your number."

The redheaded werewolf smiled stiffly. "Say hi to Stiles for me."

"Will do! Thanks, kid. Really."

She twiddled her fingers as he got off his stool. Stomach in knots, her features fell. She tried to think of the positive side of things. After all, she had been hoping to do the typical things people her age did. Go to a bar, or a club, or a concert. She had just hoped she would have done those things with someone she gave a damn about.