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Chapter 6

Derek arrived eight minutes after he lost her on the phone. The screams stopped two minutes before that leaving his mind whirring with nothing, but dead silence. If she was alive, her heart beat must've been faint. He couldn't hear it causing him to panic more, breaking his calm.

"I don't understand Derek. Who is this girl and why is she important?" Cora asked, storming across the darkened street behind him.

"She just is. Stop asking stupid questions," he snapped.

"I'll stop when you tell me why you took in a stray," she said, her hair whipping behind her.

"I didn't take her in. Laura did. No, I-we both took her in." Thoughts and memories blended together like oil and water trying to be one thing. But one thought was constant.

"I should never have let her out of my sight. It was a bad idea to send her off," he said, spinning around to face her. After a few seconds of silence he turned back around to the small house. He was afraid to set foot in it because he could smell the blood from where he stood. "Please be alive,"

Derek's voice strained and his crystal eyes softened with fear. Cora put her hand on his upper arm gently. It was strange to see him so vulnerable.

"If she is as strong as you say, like a Hale, she'll be okay," she said.

Derek remained expressionless; the only thing he could think about was Melanie's mutilated, lifeless body with fear still in her eyes. She didn't deserve that. She should never have been sent off on her own. It would've only been a matter of time before somebody tried to hurt her.

They walked into the house cautiously. Derek stopped, seeing her phone on the floor. A spatter of blood surrounded it. Her blood. The cracked screen flickered. Cora narrowed her eyes at the lock screen of the two of them. She wasn't just some girl to him. She was family.

His head shot up and he looked at the doorway into the kitchen. Two faint heartbeats mixed with an erratic one came from the kitchen. The tightness in his chest relieved itself a little and he let out a small sigh. She was alive, but she wasn't alone.

"Come out," Derek growled, his eyes glowing crimson. He flexed his fingers, his nails hardening into the claws that his wolf side bared.

Cora bent at the knees, her instinct to attack kicking into high gear. There was a threat here. It wanted them dead. No way was it making it out of here alive. She growled low.

She didn't know this girl, but Derek did. He knew her on a personal level, and that was good enough to get her to fight for the girl as well. The stench of dog filled her nostrils. The putrid smell of whoever was in the kitchen made her wrinkle her nose. Her stomach twisted unpleasantly.

A subtle chuckle erupted from the kitchen. The doorway filled with a tall, slim figure, his blonde hair hanging in his face, but not hiding the vibrant blue of his eyes.

"Another man? Mel," the blonde, Seth as Melanie called him, said over his shoulder, "you've turned yourself into quite the whore. Two young men. How do we fix this?"

"I am going to give you one chance," Derek breathed, his chest heaving up and down heavily.

He didn't know why he said it. This guy wouldn't even get one chance. Derek could smell her blood all over him. There was another's blood on him too…Stiles. He definitely wasn't making it out of this alive.

"A chance for what? There's no need for a fight, not really. I came to get my mate. I have her now. You can have what's left of the boy." Seth said nonchalantly.

"I don't care what you think she is to you. You won't have her," Derek snarled.

"Too late," Seth said coldly. The words sent chills down Cora's spine. "I touched her, tasted her. It's why I can't give her up, you see. I need her and she doesn't see it right now, but she needs me too. I just have to make her understand."

"Derek,"

Derek gasped at hearing Melanie's faint voice croaking the plea, his muscles releasing from their tension.

Seth's upper lip rose as he growled viciously at Derek, hearing the plea too.

"Derek," Cora said, gulping uneasily. The wolf was going try and kill him. A fight was unavoidable no matter what. If Seth hadn't of initiated it, Derek would've. Something wasn't right about this wolf. He was different than others.

Cora took a few uneasy steps to the side. Derek sensed her nervousness.

"He's an omega. Can't you tell?" Derek said to her. "He's powerless."

"Something's not right," she said.

Seth laughed,

"You're smart for a little girl."

Cora bared her teeth at the blonde, lowering into a pouncing position.

"Melanie helped focus my abilities, gave me an anchor. She only makes me stronger," he said.

"I'm about to make you lifeless," Derek snarled.

Without giving Seth a chance to rebuttal, he leapt at him, tackling him against the doorframe. Seth let out a yell as his back hit the doorframe. Derek's claws ripped into the wood and plaster. The frame cracked from the wall.

From where Melanie was, motionless on the floor and slumped against the island counter in the kitchen, almost falling to the side, she met Derek's wolf eyes. Life was fading from her red eyes that stung from the blood staining them. Her legs were limp, spread out in front of her and her arms off to each side of her like that of a doll. If she didn't move, it was almost as if nothing hurt. Almost. In actuality, everything hurt. Every micro inch hurt so much that it was like a throbbing numbing effect.

She looked away. Her nose and mouth puckered a little at the pain as she looked at Stiles's legs that stuck out from behind the counter. He'd been knocked out cold not long after coming in. He never stood a chance. He should've left her here. She tried to tell him.

Melanie's eyes watered, blurring her vision. Please don't be dead—she cried in her mind—I won't yell at you anymore. Just don't die okay? The only thing that didn't hurt was thinking.

Seth shoved Derek backwards in one fast, yet swift motion, swinging his claws at him. He missed just barely. Derek had never felt so enraged. Red wasn't just the color he saw, but felt, making his skin feel burning hot. His lungs stung with each breath as he struck back. He tackled Seth, landing them both on the ground. On top of Seth, Derek rose and curled his fist tightly and hit him across his face. Seth's jaw broke on impact. The crack resounded through the downstairs. Melanie's stomach churned at the sound.

Cora came into the fray quickly and grabbed Seth's arms, holding them down. He wasn't about to have the chance to attack again.

Bringing his fist back again, Derek opened it. His elongated claws dripped with his own blood from how tight his fist was. He didn't feel anything from the self-inflicted moon marks in his palm. He brought his hand down fast and hard across the omega's throat, shredding his jugular. The chunk of throat that caught in his fingers hit the wall, landing behind a broken dining room chair.

Seth gurgled and choked, trying to breathe. Cora pressed down harder on his arms as he struggled frantically to get free. His head spasmed and slowly, the blue of his eyes faded to a lifeless brown. Derek remained there, waiting for that last heartbeat. Like a calm and steady stream, blood pooled up from Seth's throat out onto the linoleum and over the front of Derek.

Derek looked up at Cora unsatisfied. His eyes changed back. She had never seen him like this. It was frightening. He was void of any real emotion. His eyes were heavy and his body slumped. She looked away at Melanie who sat there exhausted and was possibly dying from internal injury. Just looking at her, Cora could feel a connection. Maybe it was just because Derek felt protective of her life, but she couldn't stand to see the girl look like this. It was pitiful and unbearable. Still having a firm hold on Seth's arms, she stood and put her boot on one of his shoulders firmly then yanked on them, hard, pulling his arms clear off his body. Sinews of muscle hung loosely from the raw amputation.

She tossed the limbs aside carelessly. They landed on the floor with a splattering sound.

Derek got up and moved away from Seth's body. He'd burn it later. There would be no trace that he existed.

Derek knelt beside Melanie who sobbed uncontrollably now from the sight of Seth's remains and the increasing throbs and aches in her arms, her legs and her sides. She didn't know what it was like to die, but she imagined it felt like this. It had to of. Her fingers twitched involuntarily.

"Shhhh," Derek hushed her, brushing her clotted hair from her face. "Stay still."

"Derek," she cried unable to get herself to meet his eyes. Carefully, he slid an arm beneath her knees and started the other around her waist. "Ahhhhh!"

She winced, a sharp, intolerable pain shooting through her side. Another shot up her back. She coughed, keeling over to try to get away from his tender grasp.

"Derek, she's probably got a few broken bones." Cora stated.

"Stiles," Melanie croaked. She was trying to get to him.

She reached out for his sneaker, wincing as more shooting pains spread throughout her body.

"Stiles," she said again.

Cora and Derek shared a look, a sympathetic one. She was in shock.

"Got to make sure he's okay," she went on.

Cora grabbed her lightly by the shoulders, but didn't move her.

"It's okay. I'll get him," she said to her. Melanie stopped and dropped from her elbows to the floor. She didn't look away from Stiles's shoes.

"I'll grab him and we'll go to the hospital," Cora said to Derek, moving around the counter to Stiles's side. His face was nearly unrecognizable. His eye had already swollen shut, and his lip fattened.

Derek nodded and attempted to scoop Melanie into his arms again. He shushed her, speaking sweetly, trying to soothe her as she cried out and wheezed in his arms. She clutched the front of his black leather jacket tightly.

The ride to the hospital was blurry. Stiles came to and groaned. Cora told him to stay awake and ended up shaking him roughly twice to make sure he didn't pass out.

Everything was moved fast when they reached the hospital. There was a female voice. It reminded her of Mom which was weird. She hadn't thought about Mom in years. It was too hard, but she just had that voice. The one filled with concern and fear and love.

"Oh my god," the voice said gravely.

"Can you help her?" Melanie stared up at Derek's fuzzy face unable to feel much of anything except for her upper lip which covered her lower lip it was so fat. Everything was blurry. Not having her glasses might've been the issues. Having one eye swollen shut and the other following suit also made the world hard to see.

"I don't know. Wait, Stiles?"

The woman's calm shattered to a million pieces.

"Let's go. I'll fill out the paperwork for Stiles and call his Dad. Do you know this girl?" the woman said.

"Yes, I'll do her paperwork."

"Okay. I'll need to check for internal bleeding on both of them. If there's none then I'll check for broken bones next."

Melanie's head lulled back and her eyes watered from the brightness of the fluorescent hospital lights above.

"Melanie," Stiles groaned from behind.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Cora helping him walk. She had his arm around her neck and her arm around his waist, steadying him. His eyes were blacker than a raccoon's.

Melanie's fingers twitched involuntarily again.

"Melanie," he repeated, his voice stronger, but sounding fainter nonetheless. Her surroundings made her dizzy.

She could feel her other eye closing. She didn't fight it. Sleep sounds nice, she thought.

"Melanie! Melanie, wake up!" This was followed by a series of snapping of the fingers.

Her other eye still swollen shut, she opened the other. It didn't open much at all, making the effort pointless.

"Good," the motherly voice breathed.

She stood beside Melanie who was laid on a hospital bed. There were small smears of blood on the white covers. Derek stood on her other side.

"I'm Melissa, Scott's Mom. You go to school with him right? You're one of his friends. He talks about you from time to time," she said, undoubtedly trying to keep her awake.

Melissa continued talking, but Melanie couldn't keep track of her words. She was too distracted by how pretty the woman was now that she could see her. It was helpful that she sat close. She was less blurry. Her skin was like the color of brown sugar and a single curl freed that must've freed itself from her scrunchied ponytail dangled close to her eyes. She was so pretty. She had Scott? Wow. You couldn't tell.

"You don't have any internal bleeding, but you do have a sprained wrist and two cracked ribs and a broken rib. I've put you on morphine. Some of the pain should be dulled." Melissa said.

"You're hot for a mom. Are you sure you're Scott's mom?" Melanie croaked, wincing as she sat up. She slowly swung her legs over so that they dangled off the edge of bed. They swung like dead tree limbs.

She heard Derek let out a mixture of a sigh of relief and snort of disbelief. She couldn't get herself to look back at him. It was partially because she didn't want to face the shame just yet. Mostly it was just because she couldn't move all that much. Sitting up like this was hard enough. Thank god for morphine.

"Yes," Melissa smirked, the deep creases in her face softenning. "Let's see your wrist."

Melanie watched as Melissa took her left hand gently. Her hands were cool. From her pocket, she pulled out a tan cylinder shape, an ace bandage wrap. She took the metal hooks off and began wrapping it around Melanie's hand and up her wrist.

"Can you tell me what happened tonight?"

"Uhhh…"

"She knows," Derek said, quietly.

"Oh," Melanie said. No need for excuses then, she thought.

Melissa paused for a second and stared at all three of them individually.

"My ex-boyfriend found me and nearly killed me. He's a werewolf by the way or was anyway." Melanie said point blank, trying meet Melissa's eyes.

"I see," she said. Melanie smirked. The woman seemed unaffected.

Sure, she'd probably seen worse than her every day in the ER, but because of werewolves? Probably not. You play in bed with a wolf and they might bite you, Melanie thought, deciding to keep that in mind.

Melissa finished wrapping her wrist and touched it gingerly to be sure it wasn't too tight or loose.

"Alright," Melissa pulled out another ace bandage wrap, but it was bigger. "Let's get your ribs shall we?"

Melanie nodded numbly.

"Take your shirt off for me?"

The shirt had been ripped to shreds anyway because of Seth. The stains were never coming out either. Melanie lifted its tattered material up over her head and dropped it on the floor. Melissa set the bandage aside, holding her breath at the sight. She'd seen the wounds already and like the first time, she shook her head, her eyes softening. Melanie's stomach was blotched in an array of black, dark purple and blue, the flesh of her chest mutilated. Four visible gashes trailed across it.

"Jesus, how are you still alive?"

"I've been asking myself that since I was eight. If you find the answer, let me know." Melanie said, blankly.

They'd both forgotten about Derek and Cora being in the room. Melissa cleaned up the claw marks across her chest and her side, close to her hip. Melanie was glad that her belly ring didn't get ripped out.

After the cleaning, Melissa picked up the bandage and wrapped it around her ribs tighter than the one around her wrist. Melanie closed her eyes as she did and gripped the metal rod on the side of the bed, ignoring the intense ache that followed the wrapping. Each breath hurt.

Derek stared at the long slashes that stretched from her shoulder blade down across her spine ending a few inches past the small bumps in the middle of her spine. He closed his eyes unable to continue watching. Hatred flooded his mind, not of her, but of himself. I should've been here sooner, he thought.

Cora watched him watch her. She hadn't seen emotion like this in a very long time, since before the fire.

"You need to be careful. I will see you, incognito of course because this isn't a normal visit, at the end of next week. Clean your wounds three times a day to avoid infection okay?" Melissa instructed as she took the morphine needle out of her arm.

Melanie nodded, trying to give her a polite smile. Her lips didn't curve up in friendliness, but in a swollen line as if to emphasize grimness. Melissa didn't have to help. Looking past hers, Melanie saw her reflection in a metal slat that ran up the wall like a pillar. The sight was a little, but unrecognizable over all. Melanie's head sunk down until she was looking down at her bloody All Star Converse. One of the shoes was untied and the laces dangled stiffly. Gulping, her breathing stuttered. There wasn't as much effort put into like there was a little while ago and it less agonizing.

Her eyes grew more blurry from her tear filled eyelashes. Tears fell, hitting her knees. She looked like road kill. Even without glasses she could tell.

"I should've died," she sobbed.

Melissa looked up at Derek, her lips pursed sympathetically. Derek moved around the bed to her side.

Taking her cue, Melissa got up and left to check on Stiles. Melanie watched her go.

"Let's go," Cora suggested softly. "We could all use a little sleep."

"You'll stay with me for tonight. We'll deal with everything later," Derek told Melanie.

"Derek, remind me to talk to you. I have things to tell you, but I'm—I'm—"

Melanie didn't finish. Her head hung off her shoulders. Derek said off his jacket, he set it on her shoulders to cover her up. She didn't look up, afraid to see herself again and afraid to meet Derek's eyes. He picked her up in his arms like before and nodded back at Cora. His fingers pressed into her through the clothing.

They were moving again, this time to leave. Melanie laid her head on Derek's shoulder. Her hair fell across her face. Though it tickled her nose, she didn't bother with it.

"Melanie?"

Scott. His voice trembled.

"What happened?"

"Not now," Derek said.

"Derek, my best friend was nearly beaten to death!"

"Scott." The voice was defensive, but soft. Isaac.

"Don't," Scott snarled at Isaac.

"Can't you see she can't answer? She's worse than Stiles," Isaac said.

Melanie dug her face deeper into Derek's chest. She couldn't let anybody see her, not like this. Especially, him.

He sounded hurt, as hurt as she felt.

"Why did she have to drag Stiles into this!? He was right! She's the one who's all wrong here! This is all her fault!" Scott yelled.

"Back. Off." Cora gritted through her teeth, flashing her eyes at him.

Scott took a step back. Without a word, she and Derek walked past them and out of the hospital, Melanie's laces swinging wildly.

"I'll be right here, I promise,"

Derek held her in his lap like he had when she was much younger; after she had lost her parents and he'd grown to love her. Her frame shook as she sobbed.

"It's over," he whispered. "He's not going to hurt you."

Cora stared at the two. She wasn't jealous, not really. She felt connected with a deep need to know this girl. She could feel Melanie's strength, and maybe it didn't seem like it right now, but she survived that psychotic werewolf's clutches. Who knows what else she has survived for being something so human.

Derek hadn't spoken about her once on their way here to Beacon Hills. It was obvious that there was something wrong because of his need to hurry and return to their home. It was her. It was an easy deduction to make. The picture on her phone. How anxious he'd been to reach her in time and then the rage he let loose on Seth. How gentle he'd been with her. He'd known her for a long time. He cared for her like she was his own flesh and blood. She was the girl raised by wolves.

Derek looked at her. She nodded, understanding the look and left to the other room. He made up a bed for her.

"C'mon," he whispered to Melanie. "You need to sleep."

"I don't know if I can." Her voice was scratchy.

He laid her back on the bed, not taking his arms from around her. Her shaking died down, followed by her quieting sobs until she'd fallen asleep. He stayed awake for a few hours listening to both Cora and Melanie breathe deeply as they slept then he slowly drifted to sleep as well.

Melanie woke up an hour later. Derek laid on his stomach, his face sunken into his pillow. His hair was messy. It had been a long time since he had slept in the same bed as her and it wasn't ever romantic. He did it to comfort her when she had bad dreams. Laura encouraged it when they were younger. It had helped him sleep as well. He wasn't a kicker anymore.

Melanie smiled softly at his somber face. Crawling to the end of the bed she got up, running her fingers through her messy hair. Derek didn't move. For being a werewolf, he slept like a rock, if rocks slept.

She braided her long hair off to one shoulder and walked to the front door; the metal creaked loudly as she slid it open enough for her to slip out. He still didn't move.

"I'll be back later," she whispered in his direction. Somehow she knew he heard her though he didn't give any signal of it.

She slid the door closed and left the loft. There was somebody she needed to see.

Having taken Derek's Camaro, Melanie parked out front of the house and just held the steering wheel. She stared at the house. Its entirety was dark. I just need to be sure he's okay, but that means getting out of the car, she thought.

The feat was difficult. What if he didn't want to see her? He probably hated her. His Dad probably hates her. Swallowing air hard, she let out a long breath that had been held in.

She got out of the car and jogged halfway across the street before slowing to a walk because of the surging pain in her ribs. She held her side as she made it up to the house. Pausing as she raised her hand to knock on the door, she contemplated turning around and forgetting about all of this. She shook her head and knocked then took a few steps across the porch. Minutes passed and there was no answer. She went to knock again, but the door opened, and she was faced with the very tired sheriff who rubbed his eyes.

Melanie gulped. Here it comes, she thought, just don't shoot me.

"Melanie," he said. "What are you doing here? After what I heard, you shouldn't be up and moving around at all."

There was no displeasure in his voice like she expected. He raised his eyebrows at her and sighed heavily. She knew that sigh. Melissa had given it to her at the hospital after cleaning her up. It was tragic, sad, despairing.

"I was hoping to see Stiles. I just—I—" She stopped and looked at her feet so as to stop the eye contact he was trying make.

With one eye swollen shut and the other nearly the same way, she couldn't bear to make any kind of contact.

"Come in," he held the door open.

It closed with a small click after she was inside.

"His room is at the end of the hall to left."

"Thank you," she mumbled.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Melanie let the question sink in. Like others who asked, he sounded like he cared.

Every breath made her body hurt, her sides to be more specific. The claw marks over her chest still throbbed with their own heartbeat. She wasn't even done bruising. By the morning light she'd be black and purple everywhere she wasn't already.

"I'm okay," she replied.

He nodded and walked to the kitchen. He didn't believe her. That was okay. Hearing a little rattling around and the faucet run, she went upstairs. She reached Stiles's room and paused before going in. The door opened quietly, but being quiet had been pointless.

Sitting at his desk, Stiles looked up at her. There was no lively, hyperactive, expression on his face or in his exhausted eyes. He leaned back in his chair, wincing.

"I thought I looked terrible," he croaked, breaking the silence.

"I've looked worse," she tried to joke, smiling gently.

Her lip split a little, bleeding into her mouth. Stiles didn't smile back and the joke was lost.

"Seth was the reason right? You were trying to protect everyone else? Trying to stay hidden?"

Melanie didn't speak. She just entered his room and sat at the edge of his bed, propping her elbows on her knees, her hands dangling limply. What was the point in answering? He was right.

"You knew the whole time about Scott and Isaac, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I knew," she said.

"And you didn't say anything?"

"You were suspicious enough. Derek just told me to stay close to you guys and that I'd be okay until he came back. He thought you'd sense Seth and keep him at bay."

"He almost killed you."

"You almost died too. That's why you weren't supposed to come back."

Melanie focused on her blood splotched low tops. The blood had dried and was a brownish crusty grossness.

"I came back because I was scared. Something was wrong."

"You didn't have to be stupid."

"I do stupid things all the time! It's normal. Accept it."

"Right," she mumbled.

Stiles stood and moved to sit down beside her. Their knees nearly touched, causing Melanie to stiffen from the strange closeness. He was trying to comfort her. Being on her own for last few years had been hard, and she had built up walls against such comforts.

Derek said it was over though. She saw it end, saw him rip Seth apart. It was over. It was time for the walls to come down just a little.

"I get it now. I do," he said. "Just don't hide things like that anymore, okay?"

"Sure," she said.

They sat in silence. There was no hug to make their friendship concrete. No nudge that implied everything was okay. No laughter because they weren't going to laugh about this later. Just silence. There was nothing that could be said. They knew where they stood with each other. Friends.

"I'm tired," she said next.

"Me too, now" he agreed. He yawned and stretched, nearly hitting her. She ducked and rolled her eyes, shoving his arm away.

"You can take the floor," she said.

Stiles scoffed. He looked at her incredulously.

"No, go home to your own bed," he sneered.

Melanie kicked off her shoes then laid back, ignoring him as he argued pointlessly. She fluffed the pillow a little before plopping her head down on it.

"Good night," she said and turned over to face the wall.

"I hate you," he groaned.

She heard him leave then return, closing the door. The dim lighting of his desk lamp was gone with a metal click.

"Hey," he said, "You need to find better people to date."

"Eat me, moron." Melanie grumbled.

"Wow, what happened? You look brutal," somebody exclaimed, stopping beside her and Danny.

Melanie had tried to hide herself in her hoodie, but it made no difference. The damage was too severe to try and hide it. Danny had been demanding who did it for most of the day. Melanie told him the story or most of it anyway. It wasn't lying if you just omitted a few details. Knowing the story didn't make him feel better. Even worse, he made her feel guilty for not telling him about her psychotic ex-boyfriend.

The last few days had been long with obnoxious comments about her injuries. Some people stared and others whispered about it loud enough for her to hear. Finstock had given three guys detention for muttering about her. It made her smile inwardly. Stiles beamed about it too.

In any case, she just wanted to sleep. Her limbs felt heavy and felt like they could fall off. Walking from class to class made the aches return. She'd have to take more painkillers once she got back to the loft. Stiles was going to drive her. Danny wasn't too happy about it. He was shifty about it actually. He was wondering how the two had become close so quick, but brushed it off. Stiles saving her was enough to convince him that she just needed Stiles to be around for a while. He wouldn't take Danny's place.

"Uh," Melanie paused, seeing Stiles stare in her direction from his locker down the hallway. He did try to save her. She smirked to herself knowing she was going to regret these next few words. "Don't ask me."

"What?"

"I was attacked and knocked out cold. Stiles was the superhero. He saved my life. Go ask him."

The expressionless look on Stiles's face as he watched her vanished. The people that had been buzzing around her all day turned and looked at him excitedly. They crowded around him, dying to hear the story of the underdog hero. The popularity might be short lived, but he deserved it. She didn't want it.

Lydia, coming out of a classroom up the hall paused. She felt a pang of pity in her stomach, seeing her just standing there. It faded quickly, and she walked off towards the exit. It was Tuesday. She had plans to go bowling with Aiden. Her mouth salivated a little and she bit her lower lip, picturing his sculpted physique. He was almost too perfect. Her light red curls bounced behind her as he walked, stepping with the ferociousness she always had.

Melanie leaned against her locker and looked down at her shoes as she waited for Danny. She had to get a new pair. The blood didn't come out of the laces.

"Ready?"

Melanie looked up and smiled. Danny had a hand in his pocket and the other holding the strap of his bookbag. He was a relieving sight. There was no stress. He was the normal one. He glanced over at Stiles who was trying to lean against the lockers coolly with his arms cross over his chest and his leg propped up. Danny snickered watching as he nearly fell over. He was such a flake sometimes.

"Yeah, I'm hungry." She said in a tiny, exhausted voice.

"Mom is making Mexican tonight," he remarked.

"I love Mexican," she said as they made their way down the hallway to the exit, the three o'clock sun lit up the place in a golden glow.

Dinner was delicious and Danny's mom liked Melanie. She was gorgeous. She was like a rare, exotic animal with almond skin, dark brown eyes and hair like. Melanie found it strange that the woman liked her. She knew she didn't give off the best impression, but the woman liked her nonetheless. Maybe she saw something other than her nervous, quiet disposition. His parents said nothing about her appearance. There were no pity looks, just warmth. They didn't ask, but she was sure that Danny had informed them of her condition ahead of time. Melanie hadn't been in a nonjudgmental home before. She hadn't been to any of her friends' houses before…she'd never had friends. His Dad even gave her something to help with the swelling of her injuries.

Danny drove her home after dinner. Melanie texted Isaac along the way. She needed a favor. When Danny drove up to the small house, Melanie realized it was a deep shade of red. Looking at the color; it was soothing now. It didn't petrify her and make her think of horrors. The inside of the house was a different story. The horror that had followed her for a long time was gone. As a matter of fact, she hadn't really paid attention to the outside of it before. On the small porch there was a small swing. One side hung a little lower than the other and the wood was dark and kind of faded from the years of wear and tear. Isaac stood near the swing, his arms extended onto the banister, leaning on it casually.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Melanie said, smiling softly.

"Are you going to be able to do your wounds?" Danny asked.

Melanie smiled wider unable to hide her gratitude that he'd decided to be her friend.

"I'll be okay," she replied, opening the car door. She didn't tell him that she wasn't staying here at the moment. Thank god he didn't ask to come inside though. Saying no would've gotten extremely inventive.

"I'll call later," he said, staring warily at the porch.

She shut the door and waved as she made her way to the porch. Her ribs throbbed with each step, but sadly, she'd gotten used to it. Her face was a different story. It looked no different than the night it had happened other than the swelling having gone down. She could move her eyelid more, but not by much. She still couldn't see out of the eye. Her lip was better, but the bruising had not gone away at all. The heavy scratches in their multiple places had split open during her shower last night, so they were still a bit tender. Otherwise, she felt peachy keen. Peachy left her moody here and there.

"How do you feel?" Isaac asked, avoiding the fact that she knew everything there was to know, by shifting awkwardly in place, his frame really tense.

Melanie looked up at his face, seeing that he was trying not to look directly at her.

"You can look at me. I'm okay. I've looked much worse than this before," she told him.

"You should never have to go through that," he blurted harshly.

"I'm tough, I'll live."

"It doesn't matter, Melanie."

"Whatever," she mumbled. "I need you to help me with something."

He sighed, obviously not wanting to give up the argument for reasons even he didn't understand. She didn't get it. She didn't get that she looked like a zombie off of The Walking Dead. Why the hell wasn't she as bothered as him?

"Fine, what?"

"You work in the graveyard right?"

"Why didn't you tell me-us," he switched tenses quickly. He felt enraged that she didn't confide in him. Then again, why would she? They weren't close…they weren't together.

Isaac and Melanie walked to the graveyard. It wasn't extremely far away. Melanie went slowly. Her legs throbbed dully down through her thighs, calves to her toes and arches.

"Because everybody already thought I was evil or something stupid like that," she replied, following him further into the cemetery.

It made sense because of Stiles being so insistent with his theories, but that didn't feel like a good enough reason. If she couldn't tell Stiles or Scott, she could've told him. Isaac suppressed an irritated huff. Even after all that happened she was still her hard-headed self. How did Derek deal with her? How does Derek even know her? A dull pushing in Isaac's head made him sigh. All of these circulating questions were giving him a headache.

Isaac looked down at her. She was exhausted. There was no real fight.

"What happened wasn't your fault, you know," he told her, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"It is. I knew what I was getting into. I knew what he was," she replied, shrugging.

"But you didn't know he would do that to you."

Melanie sighed heavily. He was right. She didn't think Seth was abusive, not at first. He had been sweet, sarcastic…alluring. She wanted that. She wanted a sufficient challenge that was different from other men who fell easily into her hands. It was a turn on.

He'd had women after him consistently. They met, and he didn't have to hide like he did with those miscellaneous women. There was that connection and she swore that they could've lasted, that they were meant to be. A guy hitting on her one night changed that thought instantly. Seth had nearly killed him. It was innocent; the guy was friendly drunk. He meant nothing by the flirtation, but it didn't matter. It was a week later when the aggression had been turned onto her…

She'd been running for so long. There was no reason to run anymore. Melanie stopped walking right then. The realization came to her like running into a wall. No more running. Her eyes welled up and as the salty wetness stung as they fell down her cheeks.

Isaac turned around after a few more steps, noticing that she wasn't beside him anymore. The moon was only half way to being full, but he saw the tears as they seeped from her purple, swollen eyes and down her cheeks. He didn't think at all as he grabbed her and held her tightly, wrapping his arms around her completely as if to protect her.

A tremble stirred from head to toe. Melanie's legs buckled and still he held her, slowly lowering both her and himself to the lush, bluish, grassy ground. His half lidded eyes slowly glowed faintly and grew brighter. The soft grey turned vibrant fuchsia. He blinked unknowingly. Having her in his arms, it provoked something he'd never felt before, not even with Allison. He couldn't describe it. In the heavy beats of his chest, he inhaled deeply. His head spun from her scent; a mixture of dried blood and honey.

"Hey," he spoke softly to her.

The sound of his voice made her skin hum. It was like silk. Smooth, and tender to the touch, if it was possible to touch his voice. He held her closely, but she could barely feel it. It had to be the bruises.

"It's okay. It's over," he told her.

She pulled back a little, the smell of him not leaving her nostrils; a mixture of sweat and woodlands. The smells were so common because she'd hung around Derek most of her life and he smelled like a guy, but Isaac wasn't the same. He smelled sweeter, tantalizing even. Melanie wasn't sure if that thought was appropriate. It felt forbidden. It had to be because she was vulnerable.

"I'm free," she breathed, sniffling. "I don't have to run anymore. I'm actually free…right?"

Isaac's face, shaken by her sudden collapse, went blank suddenly. The word free or even freedom wasn't something he'd thought about since he lost his father. There had been so many other problems following his death. The word free; it released a pressure that he couldn't pinpoint, making him breathe easier.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Yeah, we are."

Melanie's face brightened and the temporary deformities of her face looked worse as she tried to smile. Isaac reached up to wipe her cheek, but she jumped up to her feet and out of his grasp. She brushed off her jeans and her cheeks that now felt raw.

He sat there for a second longer. For a minute they'd been close and nothing seemed to matter except for her. She had been crying, needing the comfort. The comfort; nobody could give her that, he thought. I can. I did. She is better because of me. I should've been there. This wouldn't have happened if I had been the one to go see her, not Stiles. She wouldn't be hurt. His thoughts kept on like this as he got up and they continued further into the cemetery as if the close conversation never happened. He stayed a couple of steps behind. It was better this way, safer and painful.

"Are we close?" she asked, looking back over her shoulder at him.

"Just up here." he replied. There were certain graves he never forgot about. At first it was because of who was buried that he never forgot then it just became sad to think about.

They stopped at a small, rounded headstone that came up mid-thigh to Melanie. The top curved elegantly. The corners angled with curves that continued down the sides to the earthen floor. There was a circle centered at the top, a full moon. Her name was beneath it followed by the dates of her birth and death with a quote.

Laura Hale

Gone, but never forgotten

A friend, leader, fairytale, sister

;) Don't forget to review.