| Crack Sequel |

Doo, dooo, dit. Doo, dooo, dit.

"Hey, Stiles," Isaac said, his face appearing on the Skype window.

"Hey," Stiles replied.

"Who's the kid?"

"This is Liam, ugh, Scott's beta."

"Other beta," he corrected, eliciting a frown from Liam.

"Dude, you're in France. Still. I'm not sure 'other' really applies."

"What do you want, Stiles?" Isaac replied irritably.

"Look, sorry to bother you. Ugh, omelette du fromage?"

"I'm hanging up."

"Wait," Liam said. Isaac's eyebrow lifted and he smirked when the youngest of them punched Stiles in the arm. "We need your help."

"Which is why we called," Stiles added, rubbing the spot.

"I'm in France, as you pointed out. So, unless you're taking French with Morell, or, I suppose, at all, I got nothing."

"Scott's in trouble," Liam blurted.

"Way to go," Stiles said.

"How? Stiles, what's going on?"

"You've always cared about Scott, right?"

"The point, Stiles," Isaac rushed. "I don't have time for this."

"Okay. Scott, he, ugh, he started seeing someone. His other beta." Isaac glared. "Other other beta. Jesus. Look, this kid's crazy. We went through some crazy shit at the start of term and this kid just wormed his way in. Drove Kira away. Wedged himself between me and Malia. Me and Scott. He's a fucking mini-Peter!"

"What do you want me to do?"

"Come home," Stiles simply said, forcing Isaac to look away. A few seconds passed and he continued. "You claim you're still part of this pack, so do something. Protect your alpha. He needs you. We all do."

"I think he might listen to you, Isaac," Liam added. "I think he trusts you."

"Fuck," Isaac blurted, swiveling in his chair so his back way to them. He head fell back a little and a sigh was audible. Just then his phone buzzed. He swiveled back and looked down to read a text from Lydia:

/ What if it were life or death? /

"I hate you all."