Isaac was afraid, huddled in the corner of an empty grave when Derek offered him a way out. He was alone and flinching away from everything, but he's saying yes, asking for the thing that will give him the ability to stand tall, to tell those who would hurt him, 'no'.

“Will it hurt?” he asks, standing in front of Derek, flashlight still in his hand. The light wavers, quivers on the ground at his feet. His voice shakes, his face is drained of color. There's strength there, though, strength that shows now he's been given hope.

“Yes,” Derek replies, when in truth, he doesn't know. Never took a bite, not this bite, has no knowledge of human pain.

But the boy nods, and does not flinch away as Derek jumps down off the step. He offers his arm, uncertain, and when Derek shakes his head, he frowns and offers his throat.

“No,” Derek whispers, and takes the boy by the hips.

Down, he sinks, slow, to his knees, his eyes locked onto the boys face. Isaac's eyes widen with a look of shock, of understanding—perhaps misunderstanding, because the faint scent of human arousal reaches Derek's nostrils.

Derek pushes up the hem of the boys shirt, runs his palms over smooth skin, perfect but for the bruises, dark purple low on his ribs, yellowing with age on one hip. He presses his lips to the darkest, and there's warmth and pain and blood pooled beneath the skin.

Isaac gasps, his fingers digging into the flesh of Derek's shoulder. Derek moves his mouth, kissing each piece of darkened flesh goodbye, then he fixes his eyes on the boys face, watches his eyes go impossibly wide as he shifts, lets his eyes glow red, lets his teeth out.

“I'm ready,” the boy says. “Do it.”

Derek's teeth slide into Isaac's side like his flesh is made of butter. Hot, human blood wets Derek's mouth, and the boy hisses, tenses, but that's all the reaction he gives. He has a high threshold for pain. Long years of cruelty have hardened him. Still, Derek strokes the boys back, his belly, and with the clean taste of Isaac's blood on his tongue, pulls back, teeth still sharp and feral, eyes still red. He catches the boys look, forehead tense, a crease between his brows, curiosity and concern clear on his face before he looks away. He pulls his shirt up, studies the mirrored arcs of punctured flesh.

“It'll heal,” Derek says. “It'll heal, and you'll be different.”

“And then what?” Isaac asks, even though Derek explained it all to him before.

“You'll be with me.” It's the first thing that comes to his lips, an echo of words he's said before, but this time it's true. Isaac won't be alone any longer, and neither will Derek. He can't be alone. An alpha is nothing without a pack.

“I'll be yours,” the boy says, falling to his knees. He's tall, but not much more than a child, and beautiful, but Isaac isn't innocent. He's known cruelty. He's known persecution. He's known tragedy. He understands.

“Yes,” Derek whispers.

He sends the boy away, sends him back to his father, knowing that the next time Isaac is threatened, he'll be able to defend himself. Knowing that Isaac will have somewhere to go, somewhere to run to, when his only living family treats him like an enemy.

fin

Ahh, my painful attempts at writing Isaac. A girl's gotta start somewhere, though. Hopefully it'll be easier next time!