The Little Things

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is not mine

Summary: Samuel visiting Aspen Creek when an Alpha and his foster daughter show up caring an old werewolf suffering from the Madness that most old werewolves go through. But something is different about Isabelle Conner and it has Samuel's wolf interested. Will he be able to convince a suspicious werewolf to take a chance on a werewolf older than her foster father?

Chapter One: Aspen Creek

The sun was rising, giving the forest an unearthly glow that was frightening yet comforting, and Isabelle Conner and Michael Lowman needed the comfort that the Montana mountain forest brought. "How is he doing Izzy?" Michael asked, risking a glance in the rear view mirror, seeing a dark hair gray green eyed woman crooning softly to a slumped figure.

"Nothing, I can't get anything out of him, whenever he talks it's about his past…I never knew he met Lincoln," Isabelle said looking up to her Alpha then back to the mumbling man. Michael turned down a dirt road glancing back every once in a while as if making sure they weren't being followed.

Isabelle was tired and sore; it had three days since they left the comfort of their ranch. She worked hard to keep her fear under control, for her Alpha's sake and the sake of the man that was only controlled by a piece of jewelry that cut off the connection between man and wolf. She was paying for it, and so was the man who looked so much older than a normal werewolf should look.

Shock had set in several hours ago as she finally came to terms that William, the man slumped against her, was able to take down the pack's second and third in the blink of an eye. Now she and the Alpha were heading to the Marrok, hoping that he would be able to help.

"Here we are," Michael said, pulling up to a motel. Isabelle looked up and saw three men and one woman walk out of the office of the motel. On the outside they would have looked like to be normal humans, but Isabelle knew that the three men were dangerous and powerful. She stayed in the truck while her foster father walked over to one of the men who looked like a college student.

"When I was in the Civil War…" William muttered, and Isabelle turned and gently brushed his black hair away from his pale face.

"I'm sorry my dear friend, for not being able to see sooner," Isabelle whispered before the door next to her opened. She racked her tired mind trying to fit a name to the tall man with ash brown hair and grey eyes who studied her in return. He stepped, back giving her room to get out, and she looked at Michael who nodded. Slowly, coaxing the older werewolf she stepped onto the frozen ground finally realizing that it was winter in Montana.

Offering her arm to the older werewolf he leaned against the young woman and muttered "Back then women never offered their arm to a man, un-lady like."

"Sorry Mr. William," Isabelle whispered, walking past the man, not taking her eyes off William looking for any sign for another episode where the werewolf would find a crack between her magic. She walked the old werewolf into the re-enforced room and helped him sit down on the cot.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she finally remembered the Marrok's name while moving the sheets around hoping that it would help William feel more comfortable.

"Has he gotten worse?" Bran asked as the other woman walked in and stopped next to Isabelle, taking in the sight.

"We had to pull over twice to keep him from jumping out of the truck," Michael said, coming into the room.

"Where is your second or third?" the Native American asked looking through the door.

"Recovering," Isabelle answered without turning around. "He took out our second and third along with several other werewolves before we were able to get the necklace on him." She carefully looked at the blood red ruby that hung from his neck, seeing a crack that ran down the jewel.

"Never thought he was this dominate, never said anything to anybody," Michael said, walking out of the room.

"Can you please take the ruby off Isabelle?" Bran asked. Isabelle slowly stood up and the other woman backed away. Isabelle reached for the clasp; a low growl stilled her movements. She mentally cursed herself for putting herself in this position, knowing that all it would take was a second and she would be dead. Fighting the fear that was clawing in her stomach she slowly moved away from William. A calming feeling past through her and wrapped around the werewolf, but it was already too late. She moved fast now, feeling a crushing grip on her upper arm as the ruby shattered over powered by the werewolf's magic.

Just as suddenly as he gripped her arm she felt her feet leave the ground. She whimpered and struggled against the hold. With a deafening roar William threw Isabelle away from him and towards the other werewolves. Isabelle's flight was cut short when she crashed into the edge of the door she struggled to get up. A hand gripped the back of her t-shirt and dragged her up and out of the room. Landing in the soft snow she faintly heard a door slam shut and a heave body mass collide with the said door.

Isabelle watched the sky turn from a light pink to a clear blue. A muffled voice reached her ears but failed to fully register in her brain. Suddenly her view of the sky was replaced by the gray eyed man who mouthed words that sounded muffled to her. She must have looked confused because he slowly repeated his sentence, "Can…you…hear…me?"

Isabelle nodded then winced when the movement caused a sharp pain on the back of her head. She comforted herself that she wasn't becoming deaf. "What's your name?" he asked again.

"I don't tell strangers my name," Isabelle muttered then heard a soft chuckle from one wolf and a sigh from another.

The man's lip twitched slightly upward and Isabelle absently wondered if they were really soft. Wait what? Isabelle wondered where that thought came from almost missing the man's name "Samuel Cornick, now yours"

"Isabelle Conner," Isabelle replied.

"Do you know what day it is?" Samuel asked.

"November 15th."

"The year?"

"2009."

"And your age?"

"You do know it's rude to ask a woman her age right?" Isabelle asked, hearing a chuckle coming from the Marrok's direction. Isabelle slowly pulled herself to a sitting position, letting Samuel Cornick run his fingers through her hair checking for any lacerations or bumps.

"One goose egg size bump and…" his hand moved down her back then peeled back her sleeves reveling hand shaped bruises, "two bruises, but no concussion or broken bones." He stood up and offered his hand to Isabelle who ignored it and slowly stood up.

"One would think you had enough being treated like a rag doll," Michael said, frowning as Isabelle placed a palm on her forehead.

"Nope I like getting tossed around, just means I get to prove that I can get back up" she dropped her hand and looked at room one where cries were slightly muffled. She looked at Bran and asked, "Are you going to kill William?"

Michael and Bran glanced at each other then Bran answered, "It depends if he calms down soon." Isabelle nodded slowly.

"We all knew he was getting older Izzy", Michael said. "All we can do now is wait and hope that he doesn't have to be killed."

"Waiting sucks," Isabelle muttered, before turning around and walking to the truck.

Bran turned to Michael and said, "You and Isabelle are welcome to my home, and remember my friend," Bran placed a hand on Michael's shoulder, "waiting is the hard part, luckily enough this time we have an Omega that might help."

Michael sighed heavily then glanced at Anna and said, "I hope you're right Bran, I hope you're right"

WWWW

Isabelle looked around the room that was her temporary home. It held an earth tone that brought some peace to her wolf, but she couldn't relax, knowing that a couple doors down the Marrok also slept. She set the last of her sparse clothes that had survived the attack in a real oak dresser. Promising herself that tomorrow she would ask for a ride into town to do some shopping, knowing that her Alpha's mate and foster mother was watching the bank account ensure that large amounts of cash was being spent.

"Settling in well?" a male voice asked, Isabelle quickly turned around to see Samuel leaning against the door frame- strong and fast she may be but she still had to learn how to use her ears and nose.

"Yes, the room is wonderful," Isabelle kept her eyes low, fighting back her wolf who demanded to meet the other werewolf square in the eyes. Only if I have a death wish. I don't know if he expects me to meet him in the eyes or what, Isabelle thought.

"Used to be my old room before I built my own," Samuel said, looking around. "Oh and before I forget, you need to take this," he held out his hand revealing a small blue pill, "for the bump, it might make you groggy but it will take the edge off the headache."

Isabelle took the pill and saw the small Advil brand. "Thanks," she said. When she looked up the doorway was empty. "Aspen Creek is a strange place," she muttered before dry-swallowing the pill and getting ready for some much needed sleep.

WWWWW

It was the burning glow in the night sky that alerted the werewolves and witch that something wrong was going on in town. The second sign was the electricity going out in the large farm house.

"Rebecka, get Mabel and Isabelle in the panic room," Michael ordered his mate. Rebecka picked up their five year old daughter and followed Isabelle, who was opening the enforced door.

Something slammed against the door making the small girl whimper in fear. Rebecka quietly shushed the girl looking up at the door as a scratching sound reached the three females. "Momma make it go away" Mabel begged. Isabelle stood between her foster mother and sister and the door slowly gathering her magic, preparing for what both women knew was going to happen.

"Little pig little pig let me in," a sinister voice whispered followed by the sound of metal ripping apart. Isabelle released her hold on her attack slamming the force into the attacker and sending whoever was ripping the door open to the wall. A chuckle chilled the blood in Rebecka's and Isabelle's body.

"That tickled little witch. Lets' show her what pain really feels like boys." Three large werewolves stalked into the room circling Isabelle.

"Run Isabelle, find Michael!" Rebecka yelled over the sound of fighting.

The werewolf that was still in human form chuckled and said, "I would love to see you run little witch, it will make the hunt that much more fun for the boys"

Isabelle glanced around her as the three wolves slowly circled her, she couldn't take on all three at once, she was a witch not a werewolf who could withstand more pain than her body could.

Suddenly one pounced, starting a chain reaction for the other two werewolves; Isabelle managed to dodge one werewolf, send the second flying but cried out in pain as the third found its target. It shook its head ripping flesh and bones in Isabelle's arm. She yelled out a spell that burned the nose of the werewolf holding her arm and it let go with a yelp. Isabelle didn't have time to dodge the second wave, with an "oof" she was suddenly buried alive by werewolves that were scratching, ripping and pulling her body. The edges of her vision was turning back as she thought curse after curse after curse. Faintly Isabelle heard her foster sister screaming her name.

WWW

Isabelle sat up with a scream in her throat. Still seeing the nightmare in her eyes it took her several minutes to figure out where she was. Suddenly a warm breath whispered in an unfamiliar language that wasn't a part of the nightmare. She let out a ragged breath but the whispering didn't stop. Glancing around she saw that she was in the room in Montana not Texas.

"Isabelle?" English, the one language she knew, and the familiar deep tone was Bran's eldest son Samuel Cornick. She wasn't being ripped apart in the demolished panic room, nor fighting for her life in the aftermath or experiencing her first transformation as a werewolf witch. She was safe and alive. "Isabelle"

Isabelle turned and saw clear blue eyes instead of gray. Still gripped in the claws of the nightmare she stared into a dominate werewolf's eyes. "It's only a nightmare, it can't hurt you".

"Actually that statement is debatable," Isabella whispered so as not to disturb the other werewolves.

"Oh really?" Samuel asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Yes really, witches are notorious for killing people in their dreams," Isabelle said looking away when she said that. A warm, callused hand gently gripped her chin and turned her back to face its owner.

"Have you killed anyone in their dreams?" Samuel asked, his wolf eyes literally glowing against the dark. Isabelle slowly shook her head, mesmerized by his wolf's eyes. He let go of her chin and stood up slowly, Isabelle turned away with a blush when she realized that he was shirtless. "Go back to sleep Isabelle". She wanted to say no, that once she had that nightmare there was no going back to sleep, but suddenly her eye lids felt heavy and it felt as if a warm blanket was wrapping around Isabelle slowly lulling her back to the oblivion. It wouldn't be till the morning when she would realize that a dominate son of the Marrok was able to do what her Alpha couldn't do.

Well I finally found my muse…she was hiding in the cookie jar. After days of writing and re-writing I finally think I have the first chapter down pretty much where I want it to go (hopefully) so read and review, constructed criticism is welcomed. Flames will be used to keep the household running. Hope you enjoyed the first chapter of The Little Things.