A/N Seaweed Song by Passion Pit. It's relevant. Also beware the angst.

When Isaac shifts, he feels invincible.

It's like electricity, like wild fire, like a flood. It's all he can do to keep his head above the white caps, clinging to the vestiges of his humanity. It seems too easy sometimes, to just succumb to the otherworldly power; Isaac wonders what it would be like to shift so completely and utterly, to lose himself in the technicolour world of the pack forever.

His claws emerge, his eyes change. He feels the fur burst through his skin; feels his senses shudder and shoot forwards, highlighting and magnifying.

Isaac can control himself now. He feels the wolf within him constantly, a pacing shadow in the pit of his belly, just waiting until the moment it can leap upwards, rushing up his body like the flare of a match. And then, when he's become his true self, Isaac feels himself tip toe along this razor sharp line above a writhing abyss. One step, and you're a human. One more, you're a wolf.

One day, Isaac, one day, you won't look back.

When Isaac is around Scott, he feels that lack of control. Take a step back, duck your head, make a sarcastic remark.

Isaac looks up, and Scott's gone.

Before his father turned into a monster (without claws, with punches), Isaac was popular. He barely remembers what those times were like. Isn't it funny, he thinks, how Scott used to be nothing, and now he's something. Scott's popular, he's a hero, he's everything to me (Allison smiles). When Isaac was It, he was the kid who stole good liquor from the cabinet and made vulgar comments during sex ed. Isaac remembers hazy parties and throwing up in pools. He remembers a time when eyes would catch on his figure, ladies and gentlemen wanting his sleazy, lazy smile, and doped-up eyes. Isaac would comply, sliding between bodies and grinding to a heady beat. Sucking someone's tongue into his mouth, dragging his hands up shirts. Fumbled forays into foreign bedrooms. You're so hot, Isaac, you're so hot. Like that, yes. He stares out the window as pleasure is sought.

And then, things happened. Bruises bloomed, school was cut. His midnight haven amongst the dead.

He is reborn.

Isaac and Erica. Erica and Isaac. Her hair was too long and she moaned like a porn star.

He is dead.

It's been a month or so since events came to a climax. There is a feeling in the air of completion, or at the very least, a sense of temporary peace. It's summer. The woods are alive with scents and sights and beautiful, cascading afternoon light. Isaac walks by himself, weaving between the trees. He tips his head back and watches clouds scoot by, feeling far too old for his seventeen years. He thinks about the past, how it seemed like a growing pool of spilt black ink, and how it stopped so suddenly. Isaac thinks about the future, and all he can feel is utter joy.

For the first time in so long, he is excited. He's excited about learning more, about being with his pack. About embracing this almighty gift.

Isaac comes across a stream and stops, hands in pockets, and watches the warm water rush past.

One step, you're a human. One more, you're a wolf.

He clumsily jumps over.

Scott starts spending more time with him. Isaac is confused at first – over the last few tumultuous weeks, he thought Scott was with him for convenience. They're packmates. This is what they do.

But Isaac realises that Stiles is around less and less. So is Derek. The pair take to slipping off together, and Isaac takes to paying attention to the way Stiles' heartbeat intensifies, the way that Derek looks at Stiles.

So, Scott becomes his. Isaac is Stiles' replacement, and he knows this. They play video games and watch mindless television shows, passing junk food between them and making idle conversation. One time, Isaac produces a joint. Scott stares at the slender white stick for a moment before raising his gaze to meet Isaac's.

They get high.

Isaac knows his wolf is restless. Being with Scott is almost unbearable. He feels his stomach lurch and his hands shake. His wolf whines and paws at his ribcage, desperate to be let loose. Isaac wants to claim, wants to fight, wants to run, wants to mate. At night he curls in on himself, as if his father were still alive. Isaac refuses to cry. He feels as if he is breaking. But the next day, Scott will turn up at the Hale household, and Isaac will grin his lopsided smile, ignoring the swell of desire that blossoms within him.

Halfway through summer, they get drunk. Nothing happens. Isaac can't stop laughing as Scott pours the contents of his gut against a tree. They collapse on Isaac's mattress and blearily talk about the future, as if they had a clue. Scott begins to cry, burbling about Allison.

It is a hit of wolfsbane. It is a shaft of ice. It is an explosion.

Isaac comforts Scott until he falls asleep. Afterwards, Isaac does not cry. Instead, he watches the half-moon waver in the smudged grey-black sky.

One day, you won't look back.

Days and weeks roll into one. The summer chases away from them, and before they know it, school starts in eight days.

Surprisingly, it is Stiles who suggests an end-of-summer party. Isaac offers to get the alcohol.

It's what he used to do best, after all.

Derek refuses to have the party at the Hale house, so instead it is Jackson who raises his head and meekly suggests his parent's house. There is a brief moment of incredulity; all summer Jackson has faded away to a ghost-boy, hovering at the edges of the pack and barely making a sound - yet Lydia links an arm through her boyfriend's and shoots them a look to curdle milk.

Everyone gets drunk far too quickly. Derek remains stoic, yet slightly less taciturn than normal. Isaac thinks he's more terrified at the idea of the cops showing up and being faced with a gaggle of alcohol-fuelled minors. Jackson had reassured them that his parents were gone for the weekend, but even so it takes Stiles three beers and a tequila shot to coax a smile from their alpha.

Isaac fights the urge to skull most of the spirits he'd brought along with him. Instead he matches Erica shot-for-shot until she tugs her shirt off over her head and things get awkward.

The party room is small compared to the rest of Jackson's house. The music is too loud. There's too much alcohol. Scott is everywhere.

Isaac's wolf is so close to the surface. Every second heartbeat his eyes flash. He keeps clenching and unclenching his hands. Derek doesn't notice; no one notices. Isaac grits his teeth and lurches over to the table covered in bottles. It's a bad sign that he can't even feel the burn of vodka down his throat.

Everyone is dancing now. Derek's disappeared. Isaac feels faint. He leans his head against the wall and wishes he were dead. Each time he breathes in it's Scott Scott Scott.

Someone's threaded their fingers through his. Someone's pulled him into the midst of the pack. With effort, Isaac catches a glimpse of Lydia's glossy grin - her eyes are smoke. They kiss briefly, Isaac's hands skating over the curve of her hips into the small of her back. She arches against him, then pulls away. Lydia's hair bounces as the bass reverberates in their young bodies.

Isaac can play this game; he's done it a million times.

Jackson catches his eye. The newest wolf bends his head and bites Lydia's neck, his eyes burning like blue flame. Isaac's mouth goes dry. This scene has played out before. Instead of dim lights, it was harsh blue florescent tubes. Instead of Lydia, it was Erica. Instead of a wolf, it was a lizard.

Isaac aches to be touched.

Above the music he hears Lydia moan as she is pressed between the two boys. Jackson watches Isaac with hooded eyes, hardly as drunk as he needs to be. Isaac's head is swimming, his heart a skipped stone. Their breath mingles, though neither moves forward. Lydia pushes her breasts into Isaac's front, dropping her head back against Jackson's shoulder. Her eyes bore into his own, daring him, watching him. Then Jackson ducks his head and kisses her cheek. Lydia melts like ice.

Isaac looks up and sees Scott.

Scott turns away.