"The great protector; is that what I'm supposed to be?"

♰ ♰ ♰

Deaton pulls out his supplies, stretching them out across the counter as he looks over Isabel's wound on her arm, and Scott's wound on his abdomen. Isabel stares at the dead body on the table in fear, who did that to him?

"They're coming back, so we don't have much time to talk." Deaton urgently speaks, placing liquid on cotton pads and moving toward Isabel first.

"What is that?" Scott asks watching Isabel hiss as Deaton cleans the wound.

"Rubbing alcohol You don't want it to get infected, do you? You will heal the same, just not as quickly... because of Derek." Deaton explains, moving over to Scott after he quickly wraps Isabel's arm. "You won't heal as fast as you aren't 100% wolf, still part human." He directs to Isabel. She furrows her brows and watches him in disbelief.

"Okay, how do you know all this? Actually, how- How do you know anything?" Isabel asks, watching him clean Scott's wound.

"It's a longer story. What I can tell you is that I know about your kinds." Deaton begins to explain. "Your kinds? I can help." He says, before quickly cleaning away all of the supplies. "This? This is something different." He sighs, motioning to the dead body.

"Well, do you know what did it?" Scott asks, but Deaton shakes his head.

"No, but the Argents will."

Isabel's phone chimes, she quickly pulls her phone out seeing spam of messages from her Aunt Natalie asking where she was. Scott and Deaton turn to the girl as she sighs. She looks up and shakes her head, motioning to her phone.

"I'm so sorry. I need to go before my Aunt flips out." She breathes out, before quickly running off without another word from either of the two.

"This is the crucial part-they'll have a record or book, it'll have descriptions, histories, notations, of all the things that they've discovered." Deaton continues to Scott as they hear the back door shut behind Isabel.

"All the things? How many different things are there? I thought Isabel was just an exception." Scott freezes as he hears a car pull up.

Deaton quickly motions for him to hide as he returns to his work as nothing happened.

"...I'm starting to think I need to buy a more prominent "Closed" sign," Deaton speaks.

"Hello, Alan. It's been a while. Last I heard, you had retired." Gerard Argent greets. Deaton stands straight at his voice, watching the group that had entered the room.

"Last I heard, you followed a code of conduct." Deaton counters. Scott presses his body against the wall, listening in to the conversation.

"If you hadn't noticed, this body is one of ours." Chris Argent irritably snaps.

"I did. I also noticed the gunpowder residue on his fingertips, so don't assume I'll be swayed by your philosophy just 'cause I'll answer a few questions." Deaton gives a false smile.

"He was only twenty-four," Chris explains.

"Killers come in all ages," Deaton responds, looking over to the elderly Gerard.

"All ages, sizes, shapes... It's the last one that concerns us." Gerard lists.

"How about you tell us what you found?" Chris asks, moving the conversation forward.

"See this cut?" Deaton asks, grabbing the young hunter's head and forcefully snapping it to the side. On his neck shows one singular slice to the back of the neck. "Precise. Almost surgical. This isn't the wound that killed him-- this had a more interesting purpose." Deaton explains as the hunters look at the wound.

"Relating to the spine," Gerard comments, making Deaton nod.

"That's right. Whatever made this cut, it's laced with a paralytic toxin potent enough to disable all motor functions. These are the cause of death." He further explains, motioning to the large cuts on his chest. "Notice the patterns on each side?"

"Five for each finger." Chris mumbles.

"For each claw." Gerard corrects Chris watches his father closely.

"As you can see, it dug in, slashed upward, eviscerating the lungs and slicing through the bone of the rib cage with ease," Deaton explains, motioning his hands to mimic the wound.

"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" Chris questions.

"No." Deaton shakes his head.

"Any idea at all what killed him?" Chris further questions.

"No. But, I can tell you it's fast, remarkably strong, and has the capacity to render its victims essentially helpless within seconds."

"If you're saying we should be cautious, we get it." Chris scoffs.

"I'm saying you should be afraid - be very afraid. Because, in the natural world, predators with paralytic toxins use them to catch and eat their prey. This prey wasn't eaten. That means whatever killed him only wanted to kill him. In fact, killing maybe its only purpose." Deaton deadpans.

♰ ♰ ♰

"I told you, I just-I walked in, and I saw the Jeep on top of the guy. That's all." Stiles recounts to his father, leaving out the supernatural details.

Stiles pieces the information Allison and Scott had given about the creature they had seen at Isaac's house and realizes it was the same.

"What's wrong with your hand?" Noah Stilinski asks his son, frowning at the way he was continuously squeezing it like he had pins and needles.

"Nothing. Can I just get out of here, now?" Stiles sighs evasively.

"Look, if there's something you don't think you can tell me-" Noah begins.

"You think I'm lying?" Stiles interjects.

"No, of course not! I'm just worried about you. Now, if you saw someone do this if you're afraid that maybe they're gonna come back and make sure you don't say anything about it-"

"I didn't see anything- at all." Stiles insists. "Can I go now, please?"

"Sure... But, not in your Jeep. We're going to have to impound it." Stiles' face drops and Noah gives a sympathetic look. "Sorry, kid. Evidence. I'll see you at home."

"All right, well... at least make sure they wash it!" Stiles exclaims as his father leaves him and heads back toward the garage. Stiles looks over and sees Scott pull up in his mom's car. He stands and makes his way over, opening the door and taking his seat in the passenger seat.

"You okay?" Scott asks. Stiles is silent for a moment as he looks out of the window.

"Yeah. You were right. It's not like you. I mean, its eyes were almost, like... reptilian. But there was something about them." Stiles explains, turning back to his best friend.

"What do you mean?" Scott frowns.

"You know when you see, like, a friend in a Halloween mask, but all you can see are their eyes? And you feel like you know 'em, but you just can't figure out who it is?" Stiles explains. Scott looks at him, interested.

"Are you saying you know who it is?" Scott asks.

"No... But I think it knew me."

♰ ♰ ♰

In the Martin household the next morning, Lydia and Isabel are still in bed. Natalie Martin was on a warpath.

"Time to get up." Natalie demands, letting herself into her daughter's bedroom.

She catches sight of the figure under the covers and sighs. Natalie was worried about the two teenage girls she was looking after and was concerned she wasn't doing enough.

"Go away..." Lydia mumbles, remaining still.

"You're going to be late for your appointment with the school counselor. Remember? We have a deal?" Natalie raises a brow, moving further into the room so that she was stood next to the bed.

"Remember, I told you I was fine..." Lydia responds, still under the covers.

"Lydia, please." Natalie sighs, reaching for the cover and pulling it back.

She gasps in horror as the sheets underneath are covered in blood, along with Lydia.

"What did you do?!" She screams out, grabbing at her daughter to check her over.

Isabel rushes into the room and stands watch in shock. Natalie turns over Lydia's hands to see glass embedded into the skin of her knuckles, the cause of the blood.

"Oh, my God! What did you do to yourself? Lydia, sweetheart, why did you do that?!" She cries out, glancing back at Isabel in horror.

Isabel looks across from Lydia to her mirror, seeing the crack in the middle covered in wet blood. Lydia sits in shock as she stares at Isabel in fear.

Natalie helps her daughter clean her hands, all while Isabel sat next to Lydia supportively. Natalie looks at the two girls, worried.

Isabel catches the look and quickly looks back down at the bathroom floor. Natalie sighs, cutting through the silence as Lydia is finished being cleaned up.

"Girls," She quietly speaks. "Your behavior has been out of control lately." She pauses, looking over the two girls' faces. "Listen, I know you both have been having a tough time-"

"Don't." Lydia cuts her off. Natalie looks at her daughter in shock. "I don't expect you to understand." She snidely responds.

"Do you have any idea of how worried I have been?!" Natalie exclaims in disbelief. Isabel sighs, looking up at her Aunt.

"We don't need you to be worried about us," Isabel speaks for them both. Lydia nods along to her cousin's words.

"This has nothing to do with what you need." Natalie snaps. "It's my job to look after and protect you both." She explains, eyes getting glossy. Isabel and Lydia remain silent. "Am I doing something wrong?" Natalie quietly asks, and Isabel feels her heartbreak for her Aunt. "Please." She begs. "I'm trying to help you both. Please, just see the school counselor."

Lydia and Isabel share a look before giving a nod of acceptance. Natalie bends down onto her knees to be level with the teenagers.

"That means no more ditching sessions," Natalie says, placing a hand onto Isabel's.

"I promise. I won't." Isabel quietly agrees.

Natalie gives the two a small thankful smile before leaving. Isabel and Lydia turn to each other and share a defeated look.

Lydia wears gloves to school, covering her wounds. Isabel watches her closely as they take their seats outside the counselor's office. Another teen sits with them, looking over the two before speaking up.

"Nice gloves." He compliments Lydia. Lydia smiles at him.

"Thank you." She responds.

"So, what's your brand of psychosis?" He asks the two. They both turn their heads to him in disbelief.

"Really?" Isabel sighs as Lydia scoffs.

"We're all here for something. We don't have to be ashamed of it." He shrugs.

"I have an acute phobia of people prying into my personal life. You?" Lydia falsely smiles, raising her eyebrows to the teen.

"Compulsively drawn to cute but narcissistic girls." He sarcastically responds, before motioning to Isabel. "And you?"

"Contemplating suicide if I have to keep listening to this conversation." Isabel sighs, crossing her arms and sitting back in her seat.

The counselor exits her office, standing in the doorway as she looks between the teens.

"Are you ready, Lydia?" She asks.

Lydia sighs and gives Isabel a stare; annoyed she was chosen first before she gets up and follows her into her office.

Isabel sighs, remaining slouched in her seat as she mindlessly messes with her nails. The boy watches her closely for a second before turning his body to hers in his seat.

"So, she's a bit of a bitch, huh?" He chuckles. Isabel narrows her eyes as turns her head to the boy.

"No one talks shit about Lydia apart from me." She lowly responds. "But yes." She gives in. "She can be." He smiles at her response.

"She your sister?" He asks, motioning to her hair. Isabel gives a small laugh and shakes her head.

"Cousins."

"Ah, I knew there was a reason to the red hair. Although, you are both gorgeous so I knew there was some relation." He explains, a cheeky smile on his face. Isabel gives a look of fake annoyance.

"She's nice when she wants to be. She's been through a lot. It's just caused her to put up a shell." She explains, ignoring his compliment and returning to the previous topic.

"You don't have to convince me she's a good person."

"I'm not." Isabel shrugs, "Sorry, must've gotten you mixed up with the counselor." He chuckles.

"I'm not a licensed counselor for troubled teens but I do have some pretty great listening skills." He smiles, leaning back in his seat.

Isabel is about to respond when the door opens, and Lydia exits. She doesn't look Isabel in the eye as she leaves without a word. She stands, about to go after Lydia but the counselor stops her.

"Trying to run out on your session again?" She quips. Isabel sighs, turning back.

"No. I would never." She smiles sarcastically.

Before following behind Miss. Morell into her office. She looks around the room before taking a seat silently. The whole time, Miss. Morell watches her actions closely.

"How are you doing, Isabel?" She speaks up, snapping Isabel out of her trance. Isabel takes a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"I'm fine."

"If you're really fine, what are you doing here?" Ms. Morell counters, raising a brow at the girl.

"Apparently escaping from a hospital in a trance twice isn't a part of the regular social norms." She breathes out.

"Have you talked to your friends about what happened to you?"

"About the hospital? Yeah." Isabel nods back.

"What about what happened before?" Morell questions, causing Isabel to frown. "What about what happened in England?" Isabel sighs.

"No." She answers simply. "What happened in England doesn't matter."

"Your parents' deaths don't matter?"

"No- I mean, yes. Of course, they do." Isabel mumbles.

"What would your mother think of you now?" Ms. Morell pries.

"She's dead. The thoughts of the dead bear no weight on the living." Isabel snaps.

She stands up out of her seat and leaving without another word. She rushes out of the waiting room, not noticing the boy was no longer there.

She rushes out into the parking lot for air, trying to stop the tears from falling. She takes a seat on the curb and wipes her tears with the sleeve of her shirt.

Isabel takes deep breaths, trying to get her heart rate back down to normal as she notices the sparks of red leaking from her fingers. She looks at her hands in fear, realizing just how little control she truly had.

"Keep taking deep breaths." A soft voice speaks.

The sound of light footsteps approaching fills Isabel's ears. The footsteps stop and she feels a presence sitting next to her.

"What's wrong, honey?" Isabel snaps her head up at the familiar voice.

"Mom?" She whimpers, taking in the sight of the blonde woman sitting in front of her. She shakes her head. "No. No, you - you're back in England. You aren't here."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not right here next to you." Willow gives a small laugh, taking in her daughters appearance.

"You're not here! You're dead!" Isabel cries out, standing up and pacing back and forth, feeling as if she had finally lost the plot. "I must be mad." She mumbles to herself. "It's exactly like you wrote. The chaos makes you mad." Willow watches her daughter sadly.

"What happened to you, my love? Where did my little girl go?" Willow asks, remaining sat on the sidewalk.

"You happened. You and dad died! And you left me alone!" Isabel cries, finally stood still. "I can't do this, mom. I can't do this alone." Isabel whimpers, moving back to take a seat again.

Isabel can swear she feels her mother's caress, as she comforts her daughter.

"I always thought of myself one way." She confides, turning to face her mother. "But now, I am..." she trails off. "I know who I am. I'm a monster." She quietly determines, raising her hand to watch the energy fall off of her skin effortlessly.

Willow watches the chaos dance around in fear. "It's our curse." Willow softly speaks, holding her daughter close.

Isabel stays there until her mother fades away into her memory and she is left alone again. She slowly makes her way to her car, where she remains for the rest of the afternoon.

Eventually, it begins to get dark, and Isabel continues catching glimpses of her mother sitting in the passenger seat of her car. She places her head in her hands as the sobs overcome her body.

Stiles makes his way to the school, tasked with finding the beastiary in Gerard's office. He notices Isabel's car parked up still and catches sight of her crying in the car. His heart sinks as he makes his way over.

"Hey, Izzy, what's wrong?" He calls out. The ginger girl jumps at his voice and watches him approach the window. She quickly turns her body away from him so he couldn't see her cry. "Izzy, come on." He sighs, leaning against the door.

"Just go away." She mumbles, trying to hold back her sobs.

She sniffles and freezes as Stiles reaches on and gently places a hand on her back. He strokes his thumb across her back comfortingly.

"What's wrong?" He asks again, quieter.

"I don't want you to see me crying." Her voice trembles as she attempts to wipe away the tears.

"Ah, come on, Izzy! Look, you shouldn't care if people see you cry, all right? Especially you." He responds, lifting his hand to the side of her cheek he could see, running his hand across her wet cheek.

"Why?" She quietly asks, turning her face to him.

Stiles gives her a sad smile as he takes in her face. Her eyes were bloodshot from the crying, and her nose red from how much she had to wipe her nose. Her cheeks were puffy and swollen.

"Because I think you look really beautiful when you cry." He compliments, readjusting his hand to caress her cheek softly.

He watches a tear fall down her cheek at his words, and wipe it away quickly. For a moment, Isabel is silent.

"You're gonna think I'm crazy." She shakes her head, preparing herself to explain what she had been seeing. Stiles smiles at her.

"Izzy, if you can trust me on anything, you can trust me on this- there's nothing that you can say to me that'll make you sound crazy. Literally nothing!" Stiles reassures, before quickly looking back at the school. He has a pained look on his face as he makes a decision. "Can you just give me five minutes?"

Isabel gives him a defeated look.

"I know, I'm sorry... Just, but, just stay here. Continue crying- or not crying, if you want, or whatever works for you- um, but just stay here, and I will be right back, and then we can talk about anything. Yeah? Okay, just five minutes."

Isabel nods tearfully, as Stiles quickly takes off in a sprint. She watches him leave and contemplates following before sighing and sitting back in her seat. Isabel waits for Stiles to return, checking her phone every five minutes.

After 30 minutes, when he didn't return she decided to leave upset that he had seemingly forgotten about her and returned home.

----