Hey lovelies. Here is a brand new chapter. Season 5 of Teen Wolf is coming up. I don't know about you guys, but I'm very curious about this season.

Chapter 33

3 Months Later…

"Scott, I haven't heard from my son at all this summer. He isn't in the state! More people have disappeared and come up dead like those others and I don't like thinking that it is Stiles every single time! What the hell have you been doing?"

"Sheriff," Derek started, taking a small step forward. Scott looked at the sheriff frazzled.

He'd been putting most of his time into finding Stiles and Melanie, but came up with nothing. Not even Danny could find them. They weren't using any credit cards or cell phones. There was no trace that they had gone anywhere.

"I don't want to hear you speak! You lost Melanie. I've heard about how you've treated her, you son of a bitch and when they return, she will not stay in that house and she will not stay with you. She will stay with me. She needs stability and this bullshit you've put her through-and yes I've heard-is bullshit." Sheriff Stilinski interrupted, his face having turned a ferocious red.

He was right. Melanie had run off that night and didn't come back. Stiles had disappeared not long after. Derek hoped those two were together and keeping each other out of trouble. Isaac was a wreck. He thrusted himself into two jobs on top of taking care of the cemetery. And, when he wasn't doing any of those he was training with Cora and Scott to keep himself distracted. Even the twins occasionally joined. They could still pull a rouse on everyone. Derek over everybody still didn't think they could be trusted. He kept Danny and Lydia away as much as he could, which wasn't much.

On top of Melanie's disappearance, the break-up with Allison took a heavy toll for Isaac. It was like he wasn't even in there. Talking did no good. He didn't want to talk about it with anybody and it was understandable. Nobody understood the turmoil he had inside. Danny had tried to talk to him and ended up with a black eye. Shockingly, he still went by the house and hung out with Isaac anyway whenever they had time to spare. He didn't bring up Melanie. He did call her though every day. She never answered and never called back.

He wondered if she was going to be back in the next week and a half for school. Senior year. He'd done the final assignment for her, telling the teachers that she was seriously sick and that he'd take her assignments to her. He hoped she'd come back.

"Got it?" Melanie said, grinning goofily.

"Yeah, got it." Stiles said, clicking the button and capturing the picture. He came up beside her and showed her the picture of her at the pier on his phone.

She looked at it and laughed.

"I look so mad," she laughed.

The two leaned against the railing. Stiles stared out at the vast water. Melanie looked back over her shoulder. Teenagers were out with their friends and kids were with their families in various forms of summer wear from bikinis to shorts and tank tops. The smell of seafood with the sound of seagulls. This was Ocean City. They'd came here about five days after leaving Beacon Hills and decided to stay. The place was a paradise. They both got a job a a local restaurant; him as a bus boy and her as a waitress. Jimmy, their boss, asked them if they were dating when they came in for their interviews. Both of them said no quite loudly, disturbed by the idea. Jimmy laughed heartily and scratched his greying beard. Normally, they were on the same shift together. Jimmy noticed that they worked good as a team and it was good for business.

Today they had the day off. They'd worked for the last week straight on double shifts. The two story Bungalow they were staying in wasn't too shabby, but sinple. There was a small TV, a couch, a ficus in the corner of the room. It had charm. The bathroom had a seashell theme. Nothing about this place reminded them of home.

"What's up?" Melanie asked, noticing Stiles's pensive look.

"School starts in a week and a half."

"We'll head back soon. Don't worry," Melanie told him.

They had to go back eventually. She just needed time and she got that. They both did. She was shocked that he was so willing to leave Beacon Hills. Cora had really done a number on him. He didn't talk about it and she never asked. It worked vice versa for her too. Isaac and Cora weren't real here.

"I don't know if I want to," he said, clasping his hands together. "Things are going well together. You're laughing and happy. I'm happy. Nobody is trying to kill us-a big plus might I add. There's no werewolf drama. I don't know if I want to go back to that. I mean, where do I fit into all of it anyway? I'm just the stupid guy who carries a bat and nearly gets killed."

"You fit because you provide the logical and illogical ideas. You fit because you're Scott's best friend."

"Yeah, I know, but that doesn't mean I fit into all of this though." He said.

"What says I fit?" she asked.

"You were raised by werewolves."

"That doesn't mean I fit. That just means I can survive. If you haven't noticed, I almost die a lot. Remember Seth? The cliffs? Yeah, almost dead. I know how to nearly die because I'm human just like you."

"You're right."

"It'll be okay," she said.

"My Dad probably thinks I'm dead."

"Probably, but Scott and Derek don't think that."

"You think?"

"They don't give up. Plus, they've filled our voicemails."

"How about we ditch the subject," Stiles said. "At least until next week."

"So we're going back?"

"Don't see the choice. We'll be seniors."

"Really good looking seniors," Melanie added, wiggling her eyebrows playfully. He shook his head, a grin spreading across his face.

"What do you want Scott?" Isaac said as he put a spark plug into a Ford. Scott was the only one who had nerve to come around while he was at work and only when there was an emergency.

There was no response.

"I don't have time to mess around. I still have brakes to install on a Volvo. If you have something to say then say it," Isaac spat out coldly, spinning around.

The engraved tension in his face relaxed. Allison stood in the doorway of the garage. She played with the hem of her light grey vest, biting her lower lips nervously. She wore a black and white ¾ quarter sleeve under it with a grey skirt. The sight was captivating. She was always beautiful. Her hair was up to her shoulders now; her way of shedding the events from the beginning of summer probably.

The awkward silence that crept into every corner of the garage made him more and more uncomfortable. Allison looked from him and his messy attire of ripped jeans and a splotched grey t-shirt to her black, velvety boots and back. Even looking like shit, he still got her to bite her lower lip.

Allison tucked her bangs back behind her ear. She wanted to be angry and throw the wrench nearby at him but she wasn't. The pain, tears and rage were gone.

"I got back yesterday," she said.

"Did you enjoy your summer?" he asked. He took the rag in his back pocket out. It was already stained with oil streaks from earlier in the day. Wiping his hands with it was slightly useless. He didn't know what else to do with himself.

"Yes. You?" she asked.

The eagerness in her tone made him chuckle low.

"Just been working a lot."

"And Melanie?" Allison asked.

It was daring to ask about her, knowing that she was the reason he was like this, all scattered like . She couldn't ignore that nagging part of her brain though. Even worse, she couldn't get herself to be pissed at her. She tried to. The trepidation that sent her running was proof that none of this was on purpose. It still sucked. Melanie fought it like Isaac had and she knew it was to keep the two of them together. She even ran away. So no, Allison couldn't hate her. She couldn't hate him either.

"Nobody's heard from her," he said.

He missed her so damn much. If it hadn't been for Scott, he would've gone off after her. She wouldn't have disappeared. There wouldn't be this literal agony plaguing his nerves in a fiery surgance. His chest ached like a large bruise ever since that night. Nothing evoked any positive emotion. He was just going through the motions restlessly.

He walked over to the counter against the wall and grabbed the bottle of water from under where the wrenches hung along the wall. Allison crossed the room to him, her stare lingering a little too long on his broad shoulders down his muscled arms.

Quenching his thirst, he put the bottle down and leaned against the counter. He let out a heavy breath.

"You're dying on the inside aren't you," Allison asked, her voice tender.

He didn't reply. He just stared straight ahead. What could he say? She was right. He turned and made his way to the other side of the garage.

"Isaac, you can't do this to yourself."

Allison stepped in front of him. Their chests nearly touched. His face was slack and emotionless…dead. There was nothing but a pain she couldn't place in his eyes. She caressed his cheek not caring about the dirty blemishes. Isaac looked at her confused. She kissed him softly. Her body brushed against his in that familiar way. He stood there stiffly, not kissing her back.

He gripped her firmly around her arms and push her back gently. Her eyes shimmered, threatening tear fall. She swallowed hard, the last pieces of what used to be their world breaking. He couldn't begin to tell her what this felt like-the inability to reciprocate what she felt. It wasn't cheesy like his reason for living was for Melanie. He fact that he was alive was because of Melanie. He could feel her pain where ever she was. That night, his heart felt like it had been stabbed, she was so destroyed.

He didn't even know all of the details. Deaton was helping him try to figure it all. Most of it was hit or miss, mostly miss. Isaac closed his eyes and he saw her. He saw her and everything was okay. She filled that stupid hole his Dad made.

"Allison, I can't," he breathed.

"I had to try, right?" Her voice shook as she tried to laugh it off.

He let go of her and moved around to the Volvo next to the Ford. Her footsteps faded as she left the garage.

Isaac leaned on the Volvo and looked at his reflection in the windshield. Shadows settled under his eyes and his cheeks had grown bonier from the lack of nutrition. Grabbing a tool from the ground he threw it at the wall.

The week ended and Melanie and Stiles were back on the road. Jimmy wasn't happy about it when they told him that they quit. He spouted on and on about how he should've called their parents. Stiles punched him and then they made like a dine-n-ditch. His knuckles were now a purplish color and resting comfortably on the steering wheel. Melanie had one foot stuck out the window by the side mirror and her other against the dashboard. She pushed her glasses up her nose for the third time, hoping they wouldn't slide back down again. The two howled Tom Petty.

"You're terrible bro," Melanie said bluntly, shaking her head laughing.

He frowned for a second then belted out the chorus twice as loudly then before. They were nearly all the way through Oklahoma. Everything they came to own over the summer, random things, was in the back. There were clothes, a seashell lamp, a poster of Dante's levels of hell for example. Both of them were still in denial about going back. School started in four days.

A day and a half later, six pit stops, and a visit to a creepy ass wax museum; they were passing into Beacon Hills. The fun and laughter had slowly died into a deafening silence the closer they got. The sun was setting behind the trees. Melanie looked out into passing forest with dread.

Stiles cruised past the station, holding his breath. Melanie shared the same nervousness. Going back to the house was not a possibility. Not right now and possibly not ever.

"Can I stay with you," Melanie asked.

"You usually do. But no using my bed this time," he complained, his face scrunching.

"You get the floor," she said, ignoring his comment.

He rolled his eyes. She smacked him in the arm in response. His face twisted with a frown. She chuckled even though he was trying to be angry by her assault.

The house was dark when they pulled in. They sat in the jeep for several minutes staring up at it.

"We should go in," Melanie said. "School is tomorrow."

"Let's do it," he said.

They got out as if in sync snf made their way into the house. Stiles turned on the living room light followed by the kitchen lights. Papers of various sorts were scattered everywhere. Stiles opened his mouth then shut it. On the kitchen table he could see a full bottle of Jim Bean sitting there, collecting dust.

"Nobody's home," Melanie said.

She walked upstairs, the stairs having a hollow sound with each step. Stiles's room hadn't been touched at all. His covers were still messy the day he got up and went to see Cora, the day he left. His desk still had last year's homework on it because he'd forgotten it. The room was still haunted by that whole day.

Melanie came in behind him and sat on the edge of his bed, sliding off her flip-flops.

"I don't know if I can sleep," she said.

Stiles pulled out the extra pillow and blanket he'd learned to stash up in his closet and laid them out beside his bed. She laid back on the bed and looked up at the ceiling.

"You think everyone will be super pissed?" he asked.

"I don't care. If they have no regard for what we've been through then they can suck it. They don't understand Stiles."

Melanie yawned then and turned over to look down at him, tucking her arm under her head. He stared up at the ceiling, his hands cradling his head. The silence was like it had been all summer. Quiet, peaceful, nice. They fell asleep easily.

It was around four in the morning when the sheriff came home. He took off his forest green uniform jacket and threw it onto the coat rack. He moved to go take his usual seat at the kitchen table then stopped at the four ragged bags on the floor: two bookbags and two luggage pullers. He looked up the stairs then back at the bags. The color in his face faded quickly. He rushed up the stairs.

"Stiles! Stiles!" he called with hysteria.

He flung open Stiles's bedroom door, not letting go of the doorknob. Light from the hallway lit up the bodies of two teenagers who slept in the darkness. Stiles shifted, mumbling, but didn't wake. Melanie's hair wrapped around her neck as she lay on her back. Even in the dark, the sheriff could see the natural sun kissed highlights on the kids.

He stared at them for several minutes, but didn't wake them. Settling into Stiles's computer chair, he closed the door then leaned back in it. The search was over.

The morning sun rose and made the bedroom glow. The clock on the bedside table went off with some annoying, static radio show. Melanie groaned and swatted the digital clock off the table.

"Ow! God, Melanie!" Stiles yelled, rubbing his head, shoving the clock away angrily.

Sheriff Stilinski shot up in the chair and looked at both of them. He wiped the drool from his mouth. The room was silent as Stiles and his Dad stared at each other. Melanie fiddled with the blanket over her legs.

"Hey, Dad," Stiles said impassively. His mouth hung open a little after speaking, unsure what would happen now.

Melanie swallowed hard, staring between them. She'd never been so happy to seem invisible.

Sheriff Stilinski shoved the chair back with great force as he came at Stiles, falling to his knees, and wrapped his arms around him tightly.

"How could you do that!? What the hell is wrong with you!? I thought you were going to pop up dead somewhere!" The sheriff smacked Stiles across the back of his head.

Stiles stayed quiet, not hugging his old man back. Sheriff Stilinski yelled some more, shaking him in the bear grip. After the yelling was over, Stiles wrapped his arms around him and hugged him just as tightly, closing his eyes.

After the intense hug that seemed like something out of some family drama the sheriff looked at Melanie. Oh shit, she thought. He stood up then sat beside her. She tucked her legs close, still avoiding his attempt at eye contact.

"I—" he stopped.

"Are you going to yell at me too?" she asked carefully.

"I don't think I have the right," he said honestly.

"You can if you want," she said.

"I think you've been through enough, both of you." He looked over at his son then sighed. "Let's get you kids to school."

"Can I drive?" Stiles asked, his face lit up hopefully.

"You really think I'm giving you driving privileges after what you did?" the sheriff scoffed. "Hell no."

"Dad, we're not going to run away again," Stiles said, trying not to laugh.

The sheriff stared him skeptically. Of course he didn't believe him, but he caved anyway.

"Fine, but you both come home right after school," he ordered.

Home? Melanie's face twisted. The sheriff ignored the look and repeated himself.

"Both of you, here, after school. I'm serious. I will put you both in a cell if you don't."

"On that note, I'm going to shower," Melanie said and left the suddenly strange conversation.

Saying home made her think about her house which made her think about Isaac. Her chest ached, thinking about him. It was a good, but itchy ache. She rubbed the back of her neck, closing the bathroom door behind her. There shouldn't have been any good feeling when she thought about him. All there should've been was forgetting,

"Don't use all the hot water!" Stiles shouted, slamming his fist against the wooden door.

"Bite me!" she yelled back.

For that she'd take her time. Looking back at her reflection, she was surprised. She looked good, happy, and even healthy like a teenager should. There was color in her cheeks. No bruises or scrapes marked her skin. She tried to smile. It wasn't the same though. What do I do if I see him, she wondered.

Isaac woke up with a start. His heart jolted, beating faster. There was something big about today. He didn't know what, but there was something and not just the fact that it was the first day of senior year. He stumbled from bed and got dressed; a navy v-neck with his leather jacket and light faded jeans that had developed a hole in the knee over the summer.

He paused staring at the somber moss color of his walls. He'd repainted all the walls in the house. A smile pulled at the corner of his lips, picturing how Melanie would like them when she came through the front door. The kitchen had been difficult to pick a color, so he kept it pretty close to its original. Crème.

Isaac stopped in the bathroom, flicking the light on and looked at himself long and hard, Today was a day to smile, but he still wasn't sure why. He flicked the lights off and bounded down the stairs and out the door, the Camaro keys swinging around his finger. He didn't want to think about using it at first, but after the third week of it sitting in the drive, he washed it and took it for a ride. The inside was kept clean and the tank always full for when she came back. She'd kill him if the beauty wasn't kept up with.

Pulling into the parking lot of the school, he saw Scott, Danny and Lydia standing by her car. Scott held his motor bike helmet under his arm. Aiden and Ethan had 'graduated' last year.

"You seem…happy," Lydia said with disgust. Isaac rolled his eyes, tempted to tell her to go stuff it. Though Allison had told her not to hate him, the ginger did anyway. Her constant snark aimed at him was like getting clawed in the ankle by a kitten, annoying and harmless.

Allison came up beside her. He gave her a small nod. She returned with a small smile, a hurt one, but nonetheless a smile. It was a start.

They chatted for a few more minutes.

"I can't believe none of us have anything good to say about summer," Danny said, shaking his head.

"I can," Scott said dully.

Lydia became stiff and alert at seeing a flash of blue pull into the parking lot. Allison tilted her head to the side catching the distant look. She followed her gaze. Her mouth formed an 'o'.

"Scott," she breathed.

Isaac didn't have to turn around. He smelled her instantly. Her skin wasn't golden, but almond and it smelled like jasmine. Jasmine and warm winds. He bit the inside of his cheek tenderly. Her hair swayed at the middle of her back. She was wearing combat boots that were studded up the back and on the band strapped across the ankle.

Out of the well-known blue jeep, Stiles and Melanie got out cautiously. They mumbled to one another as they pulled their bags from the backseat. They continued to mumble and even snickered about things. Isaac couldn't decrypt what. They whispered that low on purpose so none of them could hear. Scott saw the look in their eyes. They thought about stopping and talking to them, but didn't stop. They averted their eyes as they passed.

Melanie met Isaac's eyes and no one else's, her eyes relaxed and friendly. No sorrow or anger could be found. She wore dark blue skinny jeans with a maroon tank top, a small pendant around her neck. She thought about kissing him, but that's all it was, a thought.

"We should've stopped," Stiles said.

"If we wanted to stop, we would've. We didn't. Our feet just kept going," she said.

She parted ways with him and went to her locker. The combination was the same. Like her first day arriving at this musty place, she put everything in and went to her first class with nothing in hand. Lucky her, she had Finstock first.

"Melanie!" he shouted as she stalked toward the classroom. He stood in the doorway with his arms firmly across his chest.

"What?" she said unenthused.

"You're joining the cross country team," he said.

"No, I'm not," she said, the bored look on her face remaining.

"Yes, you are. I've already signed you up," he said grinning in triumph.

"I hate you," she grumbled and walked into the classroom. His grin faded instantly.

Danny spotted her as quickly as she did him. He sat to the far left. The seat next to him was open. She stayed to the front right corner. She could slide out the door quickly this way. Clutching the edges of the desk, she stayed rigid, not looking back at him. This avoidance wouldn't last forever and she knew that.

She was happy for next period, biology. Stiles was there. He sat near the back by himself. Melanie hurried back and sat at the table ahead of him.

"What are you doing!? Be my partner, quick!" he hissed, tapping his fingers on the table nervously.

Melanie got up to move, but Scott sat down next to him quickly.

"Hey man," Scott greeted.

Melanie sat back down and spun to face the front, hunched over like an animal that was ashamed for their actions. Lydia and Isaac walked in next. He didn't sit next to her. Neither did Lydia. Melanie let out a long breath, relieved.

"I am Ms. Martin and I'll be taking over for Mr. Harris."

Melanie looked over at Lydia and smirked. A grim look fell over the redhead's face because she knew Melanie would take advantage of this knowledge that her mom was their new teacher. Lydia looked down at her notebook, sighing.

"Mr. Lahey, you seem to be without a partner," Ms. Martin said. "Why don't you partner with Rouxe."

Thanks to Finstock, all of the staff in Beacon Hills High called her Rouxe, just Rouxe. No Ms. Rouxe or Melanie or Mel. Just Rouxe. She sounded like a damn Winnie the Pooh character, but without the fluffy fun personality.

He glanced back. She knew he was trying to be accommodating in regards to her obviously wanting space. He got up and made is his way back and sat next to her. His knee brushed across hers. An electric shock passed from her knee to every edge of her body. Biting her lower lip, she kept her eyes ahead. This isn't happening, she thought.

Behind them, Scott was murmuring to Stiles. It sounded angry at first, but after a few seconds they were going on about the summer Stiles and Melanie shared and they'd really left. Isaac said nothing to her. His proximity was enough. Little by little, she allowed herself to relax.

At lunchtime, Melanie made her way toward the lunchroom. A side yank into the boy's bathroom halted her journey. She was pushed against the wall and faced Danny. They stared at one another. It smelled sickeningly fresh as if to hid dirty secrets. She crinkled her nose and resisted the vomit feeling that swirled a little in her stomach.

"Hey," she said.

Danny balled up his fist and swung, hitting her square in the shoulder, making it throb.

"Owww!" she screamed, frightening a group of freshmen girls passing by. "You asshole!"

"I'm the asshole?" he scoffed in disbelief. "You left!"

"You don't understand," she said.

"Don't understand? I know what is happening—"

"But you don't know what it feels like!?" she shrieked. "It's not just a feeling, it's physical. I can't pull away even if I wanted to, and I don't know if I want to. I don't even know if I would want to if given the choice. I can't conceive of a life without him. It gives me headaches. I know who he is. This isn't just because of some stupid myth. I actually know him."

"Mel-"

"It's eating me up, Danny. Since the day I arrived in this town I've only been a danger," she said. "I got Stiles hurt…I ruined a relationship."

Her eyes swelled with tears now. She wiped them before they could fall.

"I—I love him, and I shouldn't," she breathed.

The words didn't feel foreign like they should've, but rather it was like she'd been saying it her whole life.

"I can't imagine what my life would be like without him in it." She laughed then, but it was more put of sadness than it was out of humor. "Actually, I can imagine it. I'd be dead."

She shook her head and spun around to look at herself in the mirror. A small line of mascara lined her eyes.

"I'm going to go," she said, wiping her eyes carefully. "I'm hungry."

She walked out of the boys bathroom, bumping into two guys coming in. They wolf-whistled obnoxiously. Rolling her eyes, she continued on her way to the cafeteria. Stiles and Scott were sitting with one another. Lydia sat on the other side of Stiles and Allison across from them. A quivering nervousness kept Melanie from joining them. So, she went over to the corner table and sat down, pulling her iPod from her bag.

"Are we really doing this, again?"

She looked up, mid-motion of putting her earbuds in. Danny stood over her, a smirk on his face.

"Yeah," she replied whispery. "I just can't. It's all my fault."

"Good point. Let's sit here," he said, setting his bookbag on the table.

Melanie's mouth hung open from his easy agreement. Ass, she thought. She put one earbud in and left the other out.

"Tell me about your vacation," he said. "Mine sucked too much."

"We ended up in Maryland," she started.

"Maryland?" His look grew curious.

Danny shook his head half the time and laughed at Stiles's idiocy. It was too easy to laugh at Stiles. He was the funny one. But, he was also in pain.

"Have you gone to see Derek yet," Danny asked as they walked to class. They had AP English together with Ms. Blake.

"No. Sheriff thinks I shouldn't. He wants me to stay with him and Stiles," she replied.

"What do you want?"

"I hate that question. If I had an answer I'd give it to you," she said. "I don't think I'll be going home right yet. It's too…"

"Soon." Danny finished for her. She nodded.

"Way too soon," she agreed. "I want to and probably should, but I can't face him. Gahhhh!"

Danny chuckled at her outburst. They found seats in the central back part of the classroom and prepared themselves for a terrible class. Melanie barely made it through last year. Ms. Blake just didn't make a great English teacher. Each student had to teach themselves basically. The school must've been desperate when they were hiring.

"Is it strange to say that I actually miss Mr. Harris?" she wondered.

"Yeah, you're nuts," Danny said.

"Who's nuts?" Stiles said, sitting in front of Melanie.

"Mel, misses Mr. Harris," Danny quipped.

"What is wrong with you? You're still suffering from that cliff diving we did aren't you?" Stiles asked.

Melanie burst out laughing, holding her desk.

"You went cliff diving?"

She stopped suddenly. Isaac had asked the question as he was settling into the desk on her other side. Danny and Stiles shared a contemplative look.

"Uh, yeah," she replied. "It was refreshing."

His eyes brightened, happy that she was speaking to him. A fluttering settled in her stomach, leaving her uptight in her seat. She'd never felt this way with anyone. God, couldn't it just end?

Reviewing is optional, but I would appreciate feedback.