It has been a while. I apologize. Life is a busy thing. Here is a new chapter for you. I hope you enjoy. Thank you for the follows and favorites.

Thank you: MRJ

Chapter 24

Allison came running out of her room, her hair and clothes a mess. She fixed herself quickly. Isaac wasn't shy about giving much needed attention. The squealing of what sounded like a saw ruined it. She ran her fingers through her hair.

"What was that," she breathed.

Stiles, Melanie and Lydia dashed past her toward the sound. She followed after them, not bothering to ask questions. Of course it was stupid to think that trouble would've stayed back in Beacon Hills. Melanie broke open the door and ran into the dark. Stiles followed whereas Lydia just screamed,

"Aiden!"

Aiden held a large circular saw up over his head. He'd shifted into whatever he shifted into. It was hard to tell since he and his twin made a large and scary-as-hell werewolf. The only light that shone in the room was from a heater nearby and the blue in his eyes that reflected his position in the pack-omega. Derek still didn't trust them. He brought the saw down on himself, roaring. Stiles and Melanie grabbed each of his arms trying to stop him. The blade sung, high pitched, merely inches from his chiseled stomach. Allison shoved him backwards causing them all to fall with him. The saw landed a few feet away.

Aiden howled angrily and tossed Melanie and Stiles backwards. Both of them hit the walls. His left hand landed on the hot iron of the heater nearby. He hissed sharply and cradled his hand. He shot upward and looked around confused. Meeting Lydia's eyes, he got up and held her.

"What happened," he asked.

"You don't know? You just tried to saw yourself," Stiles exclaimed.

Melanie shut off the saw. Her bangs hung in her face and moved up and down with each heavy breath. Using his hand as a make-believe saw and ran it across his stomach dramatically, emphasizing his point.

"Why would I do that?"

"I don't know! You tell us," Stiles yelled bewildered.

"Something is very wrong with this place," Lydia said shakily.

"I'm going to talk to the desk manager," Melanie grunted, getting up.

"What? Why," Allison asked.

"Because there is weird shit going on. If anybody knows about this place it's the people who own it," Melanie replied.

"I'll come with," Lydia said.

Melanie pushed past the couple determined to end whatever was going on. Lydia followed behind her, heels clacked down the metal steps. Melanie shoved her hair off to one shoulder. The front desk was more like a box than a desk like at a train station. Smoke filled it like a car being hotboxed.

"Hello?" Melanie called. She slapped her hand on the golden service bell.

"Look at that," Lydia pointed over Melanie's shoulder.

On the wall there were small white placards hanging on the wall with black numbers on them. Melanie could barely make them out through the smoke without her glasses. One hundred and ninety-eight.

"Can I help you," a flaming redheaded broad asked. A puff of smoke came out of her mouth with each word.

"What do those numbers mean," Lydia asked.

The woman looked back at the placards and grunted.

"This hotel has a bit of record," she replied.

"What kind of record," Melanie asked.

"Suicides."

"You've have a hundred and ninety-eight suicides?"

"Morbid isn't it?"

The woman laughed and receded back into the cloud of smoke. Melanie looked over at Lydia. She stared back with a horrified expression. It was time to go.

"Melanie," Lydia said

Melanie snapped out of her sudden spacey stare and followed her gaze. The desk manager had completely disappeared. On the wall, the placards read two hundred and one.

"It just increased by three," Lydia stammered. "Does that mean three werewolves because Aiden just tried-"

"Don't." Melanie put her hand up to silence her. She needed to think.

Why werewolves? She took a few steps then gasped.

"Oh god," she breathed.

"What," Lydia demanded.

"Remember the virgin sacrifices? What if the darach is trying to sacrifice three werewolves?"

"Oh god," Lydia breathed, almost like Melanie moments before. "We have to tell the others."

"Well well, what do we have here?"

Melanie spun around. Three pairs of red eyes advanced toward them from behind the bus. Melanie grabbed Lydia by the wrist and yanked her back. The beads of her bracelet dug into her palm. She stood in front of the ginger protectively.

"This is a surprise," Deucalion said pensively.

"What are we looking for again," Allison asked.

She shut the bottom dresser drawer and moved toward the bathroom. Stiles looked through the night stand between the twin beds.

"I saw them dart from the room as if it was on fire then go to the one next door. Whatever freaked them out started here," Stiles said.

He pulled a Bible from the drawer and flipped through it.

"Allison," he called.

Coming to his side, she watched as he flipped through again over the bed. Several news clippings fell onto the comforter. He looked up at her with grave concern.

"Normally, there's chocolate on the pillow, but this place likes to leave," he picked up one of the clippings, "suicide articles that happened here. Not creepy at all."

Allison went through a majority of them. They were all about suicides in this room. She swallowed hard.

"We need to leave. Let's find the others," she said.

"Aiden tried to kill himself," Stiles said.

"I know."

That was even more reason to get everybody. She thought about Isaac and started running. When she got to her room there was nobody there. The blanket on her bed was ruffled, but there was no sign of Isaac. Her breaths grew shallower.

"Isaac," she called out cautiously.

There was no response. She checked the bathroom, but he was nowhere. Grabbing her mini crossbow from her bag, she made her way for the door. Opening the door, she stopped. Whimpering came from beneath the bed. With slow steps across the room, she crouched down and lifted the blanket.

Isaac stared at her with large, petrified eyes. He crawled further under the bed at the touch of light. His arms came up over his head, shielding himself.

"Isaac?"

"I'm sorry!" He screamed, tears flushing down his cheeks.

"Stay here," she told him.

She ran outside and only to be faced with an even bigger problem. Down by the bus, Melanie and Lydia stood. Both of them had a tight grip on their throat by an alpha. Lydia by Ennis and Melanie by Deucalion. Deucalion's sharp claws had sunk into Melanie's throat.

"Ah, hunter. Join us," Deucalion called up to her.

"Allison, get help," Melanie ground out, spitting.

Allison pointed her crossbow at them knowing that if she did pull the trigger they'd more than likely catch the shot and kill the girls. She debated it for a few seconds. Lydia wriggled in Ennis's hold. He only chuckled and yanked her roughly. Kali wrapped one of her strawberry curls around her finger.

"Shit," Allison spat and ran to the room.

The door was cracked open. She slammed it shut behind her. Howls of hysteria and laughter echoed behind her retreat.

"What is it," Stiles said, his eyebrows risen.

"The alpha pack," she said.

"What!? They can't attack us in…Beacon Hills."

He frowned, cursing himself. Scott was sitting on the bed across from him. He stared down at the floor. Stiles snapped his fingers in his face, but nothing happened. Not even slapping him did anything. When did he even get here?

"There's no hope," Scott said despondently.

"Scott, what do you mean," Allison said, laughing nervously. She looked over at Stiles. Neither of them had seen Scott like this. "There's always hope."

"Not for me. Every time I fight back it gets worse. People keep getting hurt, getting killed," Scott continued. His head rose and he looked at his best friend.

A loud rush of water came from the bathroom. Stiles looked past him to see the bathtub overflowing onto the floor.

"Scott, this isn't you. This is somebody getting inside your head. Something is wrong with this place," Stiles said.

Scott's eyes watered and he shook his head.

"What if it is just me," Scott asked. His eyes sought out with desperation. "This all started that night, the night I got bitten."

Allison put a hand over her mouth and turned away, hiding her silent tears. Scott had never been like this. It was him who always had hope and kept everybody going. Her heart shattered with every word. She clutched the long sleeves of her sweater tightly in her palms.

Scott looked at Stiles, sucking in a short breath.

"You remember the way it was before that? You and me?"

Stiles swallowed hard and nodded stiffly.

"We were nothing," Scott said with an airy chuckle. He stared back down at the floor and shook his head again. "We weren't popular. We weren't good at lacrosse…We weren't important. We were no one. Maybe I should just be no one again. No one at all."

Scott looked over his shoulder at the bathtub. Water seeped into the carpet. It would be nothing for Scott to knock both them out then lock himself in there and do god knows what to himself. Stiles let out a shaky breath.

"Scott, just listen to me okay?"

He glanced back at the drowning bathroom.

"You're not no one."

Allison turned back around, her hand still covering her mouth.

"Scott you're my best friend."

Scott looked up at him. His eyes watered. Stiles didn't stop.

"I need you. You're my brother," he said.

He put his hand on Scott's shoulder. Allison watched them closely. Scott didn't respond. His head shook a little from the jostle.

"We have to snap him out of it," Stiles muttered.

"Aiden snapped out of his trance from hitting his hand of the heater," Allison said quickly.

She looked out the window. The alpha pack still held Melanie and Lydia. Deucalion had Melanie by the hair and bared her neck; he had her head cranked back so roughly. Blood trickled from her nose and the small incisions he'd made on her neck. Lydia struggled to get free.

"Just let us go!" she screamed. "Allison!"

"Stiles, we don't have a lot of time," Allison said.

"I don't carry a lighter so I can burn my friends, sorry," he snapped.

Allison huffed and looked around the room. She stopped at an ashtray that sat on top of the television.

"This is a smoking room," Allison said.

She grabbed the ashtray. In the center sat a book of matches. She ripped out a few and struck them. Scott yelled as she pressed the large flame to his fore arm. He flew back on the bed causing the pillows bounce. The veins on his throat bulged, and he breathed through clenched teeth. His chest rose and fell quickly. Allison took the matches off and through them to the floor, stomping out their small flame. The blackened burns she inflicted healed quickly.

Stiles shot up from where he sat.

"Allison!"

Stiles's voice combined with that of Lydia's from outside. Scott jumped up to his feet and wiped his cheeks. He rubbed his arm.

"What happened," he asked.

He looked at both of them, searching for answers. His gaze stopped on the overflowing bath.

"Scott—" Allison was cut off by screams from the parking lot.

"Lydia run!"

Scott's head shot toward the scream. His eyes took on their golden glow as the scent of alpha swirled around him.

"Where are the others," he growled.

"Aiden is with Danny and Ethan. Isaac is in some weird trance like you were. He won't come out from under his bed," Allison replied.

"We aren't going to win this without Derek," Stiles said. "And, I can't believe I just said that."

Scott walked past them out the door. Allison and Stiles ran after him. He jumped over the banister to the ground. Allison aimed her crossbow at Kali's forehead, keeping Stiles behind her.

"Ah, Scott. Good to see you," Deucalion said. "We don't really need this one."

Ennis tossed Lydia to the ground. Her palms skidded across the asphalt. Scott reached out and pulled her to her feet. She retreated behind a transformed Scott.

"This one," Deucalion yanked on Melanie's hair, pulling her head back and making her gasp, "is supposed to be dead."

"Third time's the charm, dick," Melanie spat.

"She's still feisty. I just might change her myself. After all, you did take one of our greatest assets." Deucalion said. "Wouldn't it kill you to see one of your friends in my pack, serving us like a slave?"

Ennis grunted. Deucalion smirked.

"Do you get it yet, Scott?"

"Let her go."

Scott spun around from the unearthly growl. Allison had retreated backwards. Stiles clung to her shoulders, keeping her from going near Isaac. He sat, crouched, on the banister, perfectly balanced on the thin metal railing. He'd fully transformed, his eyes glowing yellow like Scott's. He stared at Melanie, meeting her terrified eyes. She whimpered helplessly. And, helpless was something she hated to be.

Everything happened fast. Isaac jumped down to the ground and attacked the alpha pack. There was a lot of yelling from Stiles and Allison. Kali screamed from getting shot in the shoulder. Allison's arrow went straight through. Isaac grabbed Melanie from Deucalion's arms as Scott went after Ennis.

"Isaac!" Melanie yelled, clutching his shirt tightly. She turned her face into his chest unable to watch as the two of them were ripped apart.

Her feet didn't touch the ground. His body tensed after spinning around to protect her from the alpha's wrath. He groaned from sudden whiplash of claws across his shoulder blades then ran. Melanie kept her eyes closed, but all of the sounds around them didn't take the horror away.

"Hey," Melanie flinched from a touch on her cheek.

She opened her eyes. They were back in her room. Isaac sat opposite of her. Feeling her face tickle, she wiped it with her hand, cleaning the blood from her nose. Isaac sat hunched over, breathing heavily. Sweat crawled down his temple. He avoided eye contact with her now.

"Are you okay," she asked. He looked away from her.

She could hear Allison and Scott outside, yelling.

"I'm fine," Isaac snapped.

"Hey," she hissed. "I was just asking since you decided to attack an alpha. No need to be an ass."

Isaac sighed heavily. Seeing blood seep through his shirt, Melanie touch his lower side gently. He must've been struck when her eyes were closed. He jumped, not from the pain but from the sudden shock of her touch.

"This is bad," she said.

"It'll heal," he grumbled.

Melanie rolled her eyes. Silence filled up all of the space between them, leaving her very uncomfortable. He wouldn't look at her. He was ignoring her help and bleeding all over the bed.

"Did I do something to offend you," she asked.

"What? No."

"Then why have you been hateful and don't say you haven't been."

"Look, I just-I don't want you to see me like this," he said, still not looking at her.

"You do know I was raised by werewolves. It doesn't insult me to see your other half," she said.

He didn't budge. She touched his arm. He flung it away heatedly. She rested her hand on his arm again. His whole body tensed.

"Melanie, I don't want to hurt you," he whispered.

This was yet another side of Isaac she'd never seen. First, he was the jackass, but now he was afraid for her. She knew that it wasn't just him afraid to hurt her. He wasn't giving up the real reason.

"It's okay. I trust you. You won't hurt me," she assured him. "You've taken a lot of my pain away. How about you try to give me some of yours?"

"No," he growled.

"Isaac, you have to try. You're not healing fast enough and our friends need our help." She pressed. She could hear the others out there still fighting.

His side didn't look like it wasn't healing at all actually. Taking some of the pain had to help. Not much else would. Reversal was only something she'd thought of recently. If werewolves could help take one's pain then maybe they could give it if it was voluntary. Melanie let out a defeated sigh.

Slowly, he turned and their eyes met. She could've stayed in that golden illumination. Those beautiful irises felt wild and safe. She offered him her hand. He stared at it for a moment then took it.

"This won't work," he said.

"Just think about taking my pain away and reverse it," she said, ignoring him.

She let out a sharp breath and held her side with her free hand, not letting go him. A sharp pain shot across her back. She closed her eyes, gritting her teeth together as it persisted, only getting worse. Isaac pulled his hand back, but the attempt to let go only pulled her against him. Her hand fell from his, and she opened her eyes, tears falling from them. She didn't speak. She couldn't. Words for the wretched feeling weren't forming in her brain. Isaac put his arm around her to steady her, or at least that's what he told himself inwardly. Her hand pressed to his shoulder to get out of the tender grasp, but he didn't move. The blood on his side seeped through her jeans and shirt.

As he held her now, it was more erotic than protective. Doing that to her, sending an unimaginable amount of pain, left her pale and breathless. She stared at him with her watery eyes and touched his face tenderly. The bumpy contours weren't foreign to her. She'd just never touched a werewolf this way when they had changed. He leaned into her hand, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just below her thumb.

Melanie bit her lower lip. She wanted to kiss him. She shouldn't have, but did. He was frightened and beautiful.

"Don't do that," he whispered, pulling away from her hand, staring at her biting at her lip.

He caressed her cheek, his thumb rubbing along her lower lip. He kept his nail from piercing it with difficulty. Her lips parted with short, nervous breaths. He drew closer, brushing his nose to her and whispered,

"It's not you."

A shiver rolled over her, making the pain she felt only a few moments before disappear as he kissed her.

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