A/N: Hey everyone! I would like to start this little bit by telling each and every one of you THANK YOU. Returning people and newcomers alike, thank you so much for giving this story and little old me a chance. I appreciate it immensely. Remember I don't own Teen Wolf. Now on to the show. Ready? Set? Read!

Chapter Two: Please Don't Make Me

Isaac's P.O.V.

"Issac?"

Allison? I looked up and sure enough there she was. Looking ethereal in white, she held a hand out to me.

"C'mon Isaac," she teased, shaking her hand in my face. "You just gonna stare at me?"

With a smile, I grabbed her hand as she helped me up. Looking around I noticed we were in a flower meadow.

"Oh no. It's the corny dream,"

Allison laugh ringed around me.

"No," she said sweetly, wrapping her arms around my neck. "It's a bit different this time."

She grinned and pressed her lips to mine. I was very into it when I felt something dampening my shirt. Pulling away, I looked down.

"Oh my God,"

Bright red blood was soaking Allison's dress. She slowly moved her hands over her stomach and gasped. The sky turned to black night and the field turned into the Eichen House. Oh no. She wasn't kidding about this being different. Everyone who was there started to appear in their places. Allison dropped her knees. It was becoming my nightmare right in front of my eyes. Scott pushed me away and cradled Allison in his arms. He was looking at her but she was staring directly at me.

"I never loved you,"

Her voice had a nasty matter-of-fact tone to it.

"I never even liked you,"

Ouch.

"You were just a replacement for Scott and you couldn't even do that right,"

"The girl's got a point,"

No. Please no. Please.

"Aw what's wrong son? Can't handle a little rejection? Not surprising you've always been a little bitch."

Standing directly behind Allison and Scott was my father. I tried to argue my case but no words came out.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? Better yet,"

He held out his hand and in the middle was a tongue. My tongue. Blood filled my mouth, making me choke. I grasped out my throat like a madman but it didn't help. Everyone started laughing uncontrollably at my pain, deafening sounds that just mixed in with toxic blood trying to kill me. Soon my vision got fuzzy. My dad stopped laughing and glared me down.

"Jesus Christ," he grumbled out. "You can't even die right."

Moving away from the love birds, my dad came over to me, bent over, and wrapped his hands around my throat. With each tightening of his hands, I felt life slipping away…

"AAHHHH!"

I catapulted out of bed and fell in a heap on my floor, tangled in sheets.

"Isaac?!"

Argent busted through the door, gun ready in his hands. When he saw there was no threat, he lowered it a fraction.

"Are you alright?"

I nodded as I untangled myself from my sheets. Yeah. All good. Not having horrible nightmares again or anything.

"Nightmare?"

Damn he's good. He strolled over, put his gun on the bedside table, and picked me up from the floor.

"Want to talk about it?"

I shook my head no. I'll pass on relieving that. Besides, most of it is fading away in pieces anyways.

"Alright. Well try and get some more sleep," Argent suggested. "It's three in the morning."

In a very fatherly fashion, he assisted in fixing my sheets. Then promptly left. I stared at the ceiling, hoping for a dreamless slumber. But fragments of what happened wouldn't leave me alone.

"So what about school?"

I stopped drinking my water. What? School? Is he serious right now?

"This is some pretty tasty water,"

Argent raised a brow and graced me with a stern stare.

"You're seventeen," he stated. "You need to be in school."

Why? I'm rather enjoying my free time. Coming and going as I please. It's nice. School would just cramp my style. Although…

"Why are you talking about this now?"

Argent chuckled. Such a strange sound.

"Actually I hadn't thought about it until that girl sat down in her uniform,"

I whirled around. Yup. There the little traitor was, sitting and laughing with her similarly dressed friends. Ugh. Go away cute girls. Please. You're putting ideas in this crazy man's head. No wait. I'm kidding. You can stay. Especially you with the curly brown hair.

"Isaac, I plan on being here a while. I imagine you feel the same. It doesn't sit well with me if you're lounging around while other kids your age are actually getting an education,"

Boo. That's lame.

"Can we talk about this some other time?" I begged. "It's harshing my mellow."

Argent laughed at my pain.

"Yes. Let me just add to the other things we'll just 'talk about later',"

Thank you. That's all I ask for. Argent's phone vibrated on the table. He picked it up.

"Oh look a text from Scott," Argent pointed out.

He showed me the screen. Sure enough. One text from a Scott McCall.

"He must truly be desperate to talk to you if he texted me,"

I saw him scan the message. His eyes widened a fraction then turned into a steely gaze. He dropped a few bills on the table. Then took off.

"C'mon Isaac,"

It took several steps to catch up with him. We got back to the car and Argent took off like a Nascar racer. He made a few phone calls while on the road, so I couldn't grill him. As soon as he sat his phone down, I attacked.

"What's going on?" I tried to ask.

"I'll tell you when we get home,"

So much for an attack. Luckily for me the usual ten minute trip took about five. Argent jumped out and hurried to the door. He didn't even bother to open the door wide enough before he barreled into it.

"Argent? What's going on?"

He just remained silent and went to his room. I followed behind. He had a duffle bag and a suitcase on his bed, just jamming different things into the bags. His shoulders were wound up with tension. The air was thick with it too. It's was coming off him in typhoon like waves.

"Where are you going?"

Mr. Argent stopped packing his suitcase.

"Something's happening in Beacon Hills," he explained, continuing to pack. "Something having to do with my sister."

Wait. Hold on. Sister?

"Your sister? The dead one? Allison's aunt?"

"Yeah. Kate," Argent responded. "Too bad she's not dead."

Mr. Argent sighed, holding a shirt in his hands. He sat the article down and took a seat on the bed.

"I never wanted to go back," he said, a blank tone to his voice. "That town took everything from me. My wife. My daughter."

Another sigh.

"But I made a promise,"

He tossed the shirt into his case.

"Nous protegeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se proteger eux-memes,"

What?

"We protect those who can't protect themselves,"

My confusion must've been extremely obvious. But I get it. If his not dead sister is causing problems then I can see the reason to go back. There is one final question bugging me.

"What about me?

Argent looked up at me with an unreadable expression. Oh God. I sound like a needy little baby. He stood up and walked over to me. Oh no. He's about to rip me a new one. I prepped myself for the verbal (or physical) lashing but it never came. Instead Argent patted my shoulder.

"I understand completely if you don't want to go back to Beacon Hills," he told me. "If it wasn't for the fact that it's my sister causing problems, I'd stay."

Sigh. He's such a good guy. And it sucks. Makes me feel like a shitty person. But I am happy that he's not forcing me to go. He went back to his packing.

"I don't know how long I'll be gone but everything is taken care of for you here,"

I nodded even though he couldn't see me. With his bags zipped up and thrown over his back, he stared me down.

"Behave yourself," he advised. "No wild parties. No crazy gatherings. No ménage a trois. Got it?"

Was he serious? I barely know anybody here.

"Yeah yeah. No having fun," I groaned out.

Man he does Dad too well. Argent gave me a small smile and walked out of his room. All the way out the door, little snorts would erupt from him.

"What's so funny?"

"I'll call you when I get to California," he stated, outright ignoring my question.

With that, the door opened and closed with a soft click. I was all alone in the house. What am I going to do?

Chapter End.

Thank you so much for the read. Leave me some feedback and tell me how I'm doing. Or how you're fesling about the story. I can't fix or make better what I don't know. Cool? Cool. See you in number 3!