Noah stood by the front door of the station, a foot or so away from Amalia's desk, watching Melissa McCall in her car through the blinds.

She'd been out there for about twenty minutes now. And another ten before that, according to their receptionist. But Noah had no idea what was going on. She hadn't called first. And he'd checked. Twice. She was also very obviously talking to herself too, which didn't bode well. She only did that when she was working up the nerve to confront someone. He'd seen her do it a few times over the years. Honestly, it was adorable, but it didn't clear anything up for him.

He was tempted to go and ask his guys if any of them had been foolish enough to date Melissa and then wrong her in some way. But that couldn't be it. They were all so damn gossipy. There was no way he wouldn't have found out if somebody had worked up the courage to ask her out and somehow succeeded. Especially if they had only fucked it up later.

It occurred to him that she might be intimidated by all the badges walking around in here. There were some people who had panic attacks when enough officers were in one place, even when they hadn't done anything wrong. So it was an entirely reasonable answer. But not so much when it came to Melissa, as she wasn't someone who got intimidated by much.

Then again, he hadn't talked to her in forever. Maybe he didn't know her all that well anymore.

And that one little errant thought, which made him a little disheartened, also caused his mind to go hurtling backward through time, reminiscing about growing up in their mostly mind-numbingly boring town with her and Claudia and even that douchebag ex-husband of hers, Raf. Hell, there wasn't a memory he had of this place that didn't involve at least one of them. Usually it was all of them, though. They were hardly ever apart in high school, forever trying to find some kind of trouble to get into together.

Melissa and Raf had been two years behind him and Claudia, but you wouldn't have known it with the way Claudia had adopted Mel. It hadn't mattered to her that they were sophomores. That was her friend and the rest of the world be damned. She had taken Melissa under her wing without worrying what anyone thought, gotten her a spot on the cheer squad, and even made her captain when they graduated. And if it didn't bother Claudia, it sure as shit hadn't bothered Noah. He would have followed her to the ends of the Earth.

Nearly tried when she couldn't fight the cancer anymore and left him and Stiles behind.

But, of course, that same woman who had fought right beside Claudia every single day in the hospital wouldn't let him give up. She dropped off food every single night instead, leaving it on their porch when he refused to answer the door. And made sure it was easy enough for a much younger Stiles to reheat all by himself, if necessary. And most days it was necessary. Noah had been utterly useless for so long after Claudia died. And yet, Melissa wouldn't let him drift off into nothingness. She just kept coming, holding Stiles in the same rocking chair he still had on that front porch, and letting that little boy talk her ear off. Or cry. Whatever he needed. Whatever they both needed.

It was as if Claudia had known, from the very beginning, one day her boys would need someone to look after them and Melissa was that someone. And she took on the role no one asked of her because she saw a boy in desperate need of a mother and a man in desperate need of a swift kick in the ass.

It had worked, of course. Exactly as Claudia had probably planned all along.

Noah smiled fondly thinking about it all and unable to stop himself from wondering where they might be if it weren't for Melissa. But he knew there was no need to bother with that, really, since she was here. Right here. Currently squaring her shoulders to come in and face whatever monster she had cooked up in that head of hers.

He chuckled quietly to himself as she kept talking to herself all the way to the door, but as soon as she was through it, the flashbacks that hit him were of a different variety. These had a different flavor to them. And they were all shrouded in debilitating grief.

She had been the one to drive over to the police station that day and tell him that while he was out signing paperwork real quick to officially accept his promotion to sheriff, his wife had passed away with only their son by her side. And she had been the one to escort him back to the hospital in a complete daze, unsure of how to raise Stiles on his own.

Apparently, her appearance at the station, looking all nervous and jittery about something, was all it took to plant him firmly back in that wretched time in his life. Great.

"Oh, God. Oh, Noah. I'm so sorry."

He had meant to wipe the memories off his face before she could recognize it herself, but he hadn't been fast enough. She knew exactly where his mind had gone. She reached out and touched his arm. "I just showed up unannounced. I'm such an idiot sometimes." She shook her head. "Stiles is fine, by the way."

Noah breathed a sigh of relief and chuckled quietly again. "Are you here to see me?" She nodded. "Why don't we go back to my office?"

"Seriously, I am so sorry," she repeated. "I don't know what I was thinking. I should have called first. Are you busy?"

"It's fine, Mel," he insisted. "Calm down."

She smiled politely at the guys as they walked through the bullpen area, offering small waves to those she'd had the privilege of patching up more than once over the years. And he ushered her straight back to his office, as promised, with a hand on the small of her back, as if it was even possible for her to get lost in here.

When they were both tucked safely inside, he closed the door and motioned for her to take the chair Derek Hale had abandoned only a few hours ago. And just like that, it was another horrible memory he couldn't push out of his mind fast enough. Except in that one, he had been the one delivering the news. Not getting it.

"Again, so sorry," she said, taking a seat.

"Again, stop apologizing, Mel," he returned with a wink, sitting down too.

"I, uh, came over here because..." She shrugged, taking a deep breath. She was nervous. And so damned cute. "Well, I wanted to ask you a question. It's been rattling around in my head for about a year now."

"A year?"

"Yeah, I guess I figured enough time had passed for both of us, you know?"

"Enough time?"

"It's silly." She waved her hand dismissively through the air. "I know. Honestly, you probably don't even see me that way, so this is pointless, but I figured if I asked and you said no, I wouldn't have to wonder anymore. I'd know. And that's always better, right? Even when it's not something you want to hear?"

"Know what, exactly?"

"Oh, umm, if you wanted to go out with me sometime?"

She bit her bottom lip as Noah's eyes grew wide, not sure he had heard her correctly. There was no way Melissa McCall was asking him out. That was crazy. She was gorgeous. Way out of his league.

"I, uh..."

"It's okay, Noah. I knew the answer before I walked in here." Before he could even respond further, she was standing up. "Forget I ever came in." She stopped as soon as she rounded the chair, her cheeks on fire with embarrassment. "Please don't tell the boys, though, okay? I'll never live it down."

"Mel, wait," he nearly shouted, standing up and holding out his hand to get her to take a beat. "I didn't say no."

"What?"

"Of course I'd love to go out with you, but... why?"

"Why what?"

"Why me?" He leaned across his desk, whispering the next bit to her like someone else stood a chance of hearing them. "You know how hot you are, right?"

She let out a snort of laughter and slapped a hand over her mouth, and now he was grinning like a goddamn idiot. "I'm an old man," he continued. "You could be with someone much younger." He motioned toward the bullpen. "The cougar thing is pretty in right now."

She perked an eyebrow at him before her mouth turned down, looking positively disgusted by the notion. "You want me to date someone closer to our kids' ages than to mine?" Melissa shivered involuntarily. "That's gross, Noah." Fair point. "And you're what? Two years older than me? If you're an old man, I'm an old lady."

Another fair point, but old was the last word he would use to describe her.

Her phone started to ring, effectively interrupting them. She fumbled in her purse as they both began to laugh in a slightly delirious fashion, as if neither of them could have predicted the new direction their day had taken. Like neither of them could believe any of it was happening in the first place. At least for him, that was absolutely true.

He had resigned himself to living alone for the rest of his days after Stiles finally decided to move out, whenever that might be. And he was fine with that. Truly. After Claudia, he had assumed it was a foregone conclusion. He had made his peace with it. But Claudia had other plans. Because nothing else made sense. Of course she would still be watching out for him, making sure he was happy. And sure, it was possible nothing would come of it romantically besides one dinner, but Melissa was his friend and neither of them had to be alone if they didn't want to be.

"Scott, slow down. Who's hurt?" Noah's face fell as swiftly as hers, waiting impatiently for the answer. "Scott, honey, I can't hear you. What is that?"

Please don't say Stiles. Please don't say Stiles. Please don't say Stiles, he chanted internally.

"Stiles?"

"Shit," he muttered.

He grabbed his coat and the keys to his cruiser without another word, ushering her out the door as she held the phone to her ear. He could hear Stiles' voice on the other end, so it was unlikely he was the hurt one in question. Or at least not hurt enough that it was life-threatening. Well, he hoped, anyway.

"Parrish, I need to go meet my son. No idea what happened yet," he announced over the top of Melissa's head. "I'll radio you from the car if I need back up."

"Should I call EMS to follow, sir?"

If he wasn't so damned worried, he would have laughed. Parrish was officially one of them. He knew if Stiles was involved, paramedics should be on standby.

"Nah, I'm sure it's fine," he lied. "I'll call you if it's not."

"Okay, sir."

And then they were out the front door and he was opening her side, making sure both feet were safely inside the cruiser before shutting it and taking off.

She continued to mumble to Stiles as they drove, only pausing long enough to give him directions. And it wasn't a mile later before he figured out they were headed to his house, which allowed Noah the space to dream up several scenarios, all in varying degrees of horribleness, about what was going to greet them at the end.

With Stiles, it could be anything.

"Stiles, hun, we're pulling up right now." A beat of silence enveloped the car and he stopped breathing without realizing it, hoping to hear anything that might give him back even a glimmer of optimism. "Yep. Okay."

She hung up without a proper goodbye as he threw the car into park, tying her hair up in a ponytail and taking off all the jewelry she wore when she wasn't at the hospital, placing it in the pocket in her top. She was getting ready. And it was bad.

She was up the steps before he had time to shut his door, not bothering with her own, and hurrying through the front door without knocking. Not that she had ever needed a formal invitation to enter.

He shut it just as the sound of howling reached his ears, causing him to try and grab her wrist. There was an animal in here. She couldn't just go up there without letting him assess the situation, damnit. This was dangerous. She was worse than Stiles sometimes. But she wasn't the first nurse he had known. They were all kind of like that. They got tunnel vision on occasion. They knew someone was hurt and there wasn't a lot anyone could do to stop them from at least trying to help.

Which is exactly how she slipped through his fingers, likely aware of the fact that there was something sinister waiting for them. She just didn't care. She was in the zone. Even though the howling got louder and louder the closer they got to Stiles' room on the second floor, both of them taking the stairs two at a time now.

"Mel, wait," he hissed as they hit the landing.

"Isaac?" she hollered, looking into each of the rooms she passed. "Isaac, I'm here."

Noah furrowed his brows in confusion. It was likely he had been far too concerned with his own trauma to hear any of the actual conversation that she'd had with Stiles in the car, but he genuinely couldn't understand how Isaac Lahey had entered this situation.

She stopped at Stiles' room finally, just as he feared she might, and her eyes bounced around, probably cataloging injuries so she could attend to the worst ones first. Her training was kicking in. She wasn't anything other than a nurse right now. Someone capable of saving lives. And that is exactly what she had come to do.

But then Noah walked up behind her and gasped, unable to stop himself.

Isaac was laid out in his son's bed and he was bleeding profusely from what appeared to be several places. He looked around until his eyes fell on Stiles and Scott. They were both standing there with tears cascading down their cheeks with reckless abandon, but they were fine. That was good. Or as good as could be expected.

He motioned for them to follow him out of the room, and for a second, he wasn't sure they were going to come. He didn't blame them, of course. This was their friend. Possibly a much better friend and bigger part of both of their lives than he realized, but it didn't matter. They couldn't watch Melissa work on him.

"I'm calling Parrish," he declared.

As he moved the radio on his shoulder toward his mouth, everyone started screaming at him to stop. Whatever he'd said had snapped everyone out of the haze they were in for a second.

"He's going to bleed out, Mel," he argued. "We have to call someone to help you."

She shook her head vehemently. "We can't do that, Noah."

She pointed to his face. And Noah tracked her finger, swallowing hard. There was a bunch of stuff his mind had blocked out when they'd first walked in here. Clearly. His eyes, from what he could see when they weren't scrunched up in pain, were bright yellow. And when he howled, because apparently that noise had been coming from him, the fangs in his mouth were very visible.

He let go of the radio. No, they were right. They couldn't tell anyone. She would have to save him herself. And he would have to figure out what the hell was happening from the two boys who were unharmed. So, he motioned for them to join him in the hallway again, this time refusing to take no for an answer.

"What happened?" His son wiped his face and tore his eyes from the scene on his bed, directing his attention to Noah. "Did his dad do this to him?"

"What?" Stiles squeaked. "No. Someone shot him. Like a lot."

"Shot him," Noah repeated, disbelief coloring his words. "Who? Who shot him, Stiles?"

"We don't know who they are, Dad. That's part of the problem." He sighed deeply and hung his head. "It's a long story."

"Something tells me we got time, kiddo. Spill."

Stiles peered over at Scott, who shrugged, like he was giving him permission to unleash what Noah was sure would be a whole slew of information he was not prepared for in the slightest. But he prayed he'd been right. That they did have time. That they were not about to listen to their friend die a slow and painful death in the next room.

That he, Sheriff Stilinski, wasn't going to lose another damn person in this fucking town.