Filler Episode - Chapter 4

Scott slid feet-first under a fall tree. He pulled himself back up and ran. The full moon watched over the preserve as a goddess from the heavens. It was nights like these, running with his pack, that he realized how awesome it was being a werewolf. Sure, there were hunters, but it turned out only some of them were homicidal maniacs.

Kate Argent was in prison, as were most of her crew. The sheriff had found an arsenal in her vehicle when they stopped her. A thorough check flagged most of the weapons as illegally obtained. The authorities dusted them all down for fingerprints and hauled a few more people in on different charges. Stiles had let him know that there were still some that were unidentified, but they were now on file.

Derek burst out of a nearby bush. He tackled Scott from the side. They rolled across the forest floor and down a slight embankment. Scott tucked his feet under the older wolf. He pushed once his heels found the hip bones. Derek arced through the air. No-Brows righted himself and landed on his feet.

Peter zipped through the night. His black fur made him almost invisible, even to enhanced senses. Scott felt something grab his ankle and found himself on his back. He heard Derek crash to the ground a moment later.

Damn, he's fast.

Scott hopped to his feet. His eyes couldn't track the alpha in the darkness, but he didn't give up. He crouched low and listened. The moisture from the mid-fall night made the leaves pliable. He couldn't count on the sound of them crackling under pressure. Peter was too skilled to step on a branch, but he still had to breath. Scent didn't help much. The pack had spent enough time together that their scents had begun to mingle. They didn't all smell the same, but any outsiders would be able to tell they weren't just passing through. The scent mingling was a survival thing. A roving pack would get the smell, but it would be almost impossible to determine their number.

There was a soft intake of breath. He turned to face the sound. Peter crashed headfirst into his stomach. Scott went down flat on his back while Peter stumbled and skid to a stop. The alpha looked back at his beta. He trotted over to Scott and scent-marked him.

Scott let out a contented sigh. It was a great night.

~

Allison had learned a lot about her family recently, most of it through stealth and subterfuge. Her father was indeed a werewolf hunter, but he held to a code. His sister, and father, operated under the assumption that anything that sprouted hair on the full moon needed to be put down. She decided that, if they ever told her, she would pick the code.

Her father wasn't at breakfast and her mother wasn't talking. She had slipped into cooking mode, which meant she was stressed. Allison was able to slip out of the house after only one helping of pancakes thanks to a well-timed phone call. Speed-dial was amazing. Hit the button, let the line ring, and hang up before they answered. It was simple, yet effective.

Her dad was busy more often than not. She had found out that his 'employees' were actually other hunters that worked for him. He was some sort of authority figure, but didn't get along with his father Gerard. There had been a lot of hushed conversations ever since Gerard, it felt weird to think of him as grandpa, had come into town. Luckily he hadn't stayed long once Kate was put away.

She switched over to her I-pod. More research would be in order. Hopefully her father hadn't changed his computer password. Once she got home she would see what else she could find about things she wasn't supposed to know, until then Scott might know something worth focusing on. Or Stiles. Most likely Stiles. He grew up in the sheriff's department and had even helped install the new computers. There was little he didn't know that came through the office.

"My life is strange," she whispered as she turned into the school parking lot.

~

Scott was many things, but he was not a good liar. It had been his downfall and usually took Stiles with him. His mother knew this, but she hadn't asked what was going on with him. She had questioned him about drugs. He didn't have to lie about that. She questioned him about Allison. He told her that he'd been through sex-ed and learned that he inherited her blush. A quick topic change, some talk about the weather, and a short commentary of toast versus bagels bought them enough time to return to relationships. Scott assured her that aside from a kiss, or two, they were taking it slow. They had spent a lot of time together but, oddly enough, her aunt being on trial for multiple murders didn't lend to a romantic atmosphere.

Melissa McCall watched her son eat breakfast. She had been relieved when he got along with the Hales. The extra money was nice, and the two men were respectful to her as well as the property. She knew it wasn't going to be long term. The insurance money from the fire would be enough to rebuild their house. Not to mention the settlement from the same insurance company for the mishandling of the investigation.

Her son no longer needed his inhaler. It had been a fact she had overlooked easily. The extra bit of money saved from not purchasing the medication was wrapped up in the income from the apartment being rented. It wasn't until the pharmacy had called to let her know the prescription hadn't been picked up and was now being put back into rotation. She would need to get a new request sent if she wanted it filled.

He had made first line, picked up the nickname 'The Wall', and no longer needed his inhaler. She was certain that he wasn't on steroids. He showed none of the signs, and she doubted he knew anyone who could actually get their hands on them. His schoolwork hadn't changed much, which she took to mean that he wasn't dipping into Stiles' medication. She knew something was going on. Identifying what was the hard part.

~

Stiles thought a lot. Like a lot, a lot. His brain was constantly in motion. Sometimes it made it hard to hold conversations. He'd be talking to someone, but his mind would be working on something in the background, and then an answer would click. There had been quite a few times that he had walked away from someone mid-sentence.

Funny thing though, at times he'd focus intently on a single idea. Right now, he was trying to figure out exactly what happened to Derek's eyebrows when he shifted. Scott still had his, plus sideburns. Peter went full wolf, which made him a little queasy to watch, and sprouted plenty of hair. Was it an age thing? Would Scott lose his in a few years? Did it have to do with Derek being born a werewolf? There just wasn't enough data to properly form a testable hypothesis. The really annoying part was that he didn't know how to acquire more data, aside from tracking down more werewolves, and that wasn't as simple as going down to the local animal shelter.

Was there a shelter for werewolves? A pound? A prison? Were there werewolf police? Keep those claws where I can see them, Fido, I'm taking you to the pound. What about Miranda rights? Rex rights. No, he doubted that a society of werewolves would take to using popular dog names as a sign of respect. A werewolf city. Now that bared some thought.

Wait, there was something he was trying to figure out. It had something to do with eyebrows. Oh yeah, Derek.

~

Chris Argent watched the information scroll across the screen. Gerard wasn't in town, but he put out a call to gather his men. The timing couldn't be ignored but the endgame was unclear. Kate deserved to go to prison. She showed no remorse for her actions. Chris doubted this was the only time she had carried out such drastic measures. Gerard wasn't beyond revenge, but he wouldn't do something so clumsy as a frontal assault.

The Hale pack was rebuilt. They hadn't hurt anyone and kept to the preserve most of the time. Peter Hale allowed himself to heal at an advanced rate, but not enough to cause too much attention. They were the obvious target. Clean up the mess Kate had left. Gerard knew how to play the game. A call to arms didn't make sense. It drew too much attention. Chris wasn't the only hunter that lived by the code. He wasn't the only one who would take a stand.

~

Alison allowed herself a small smile. The ride to school was nice. Attention from the trial had finally faded away. All it took was some politician picking up an undercover cop for a good time. The gossip-mongers abandoned Beacon Hills within an hour of the story breaking.

Puffy white clouds had covered the sky by the time that Scott got to school. He locked his bike to the wrack and looked up when he heard a familiar honk. Stiles pulled the jeep into the spot next to him.

"Why are you early?" Scott asked as Stiles got out of the jeep.

"I'm early," Stiles tried to look hurt. "I'm always early. Stiles Early Stilinski. It's my middle name."

"Stiles isn't even your name," Scott shook his head.

"I slipped turkey bacon into the fridge without telling my dad, so he set out clocks forward an hour," Stiles sighed.

"Just wait until he figures out you changed his creamer for soy milk," Scott laughed.

"He'll really freak when he sees that I ditched his snack stash at work," Stiles swiped along his head. "Did you feel that?" Scott asked.

"What?" Stiles looked around, trying to see anything.

"Snow!" Someone yelled near the rear of the parking lot.

"It's October," Scott looked at the thick clouds.

A wave of fat snowflakes drifted down. Stiles stuck out his tongue to catch one. Scott sniffed the air. It smelled like snow, not that Beacon Hills ever got much, but there was something else too. A scent hidden among the crystals.

"Cinnamon?" Scott whispered.

"What?" Stiles asked.

Stiles wore a mask of snowflakes. His eyes were closed, and his mouth was wide open. The snow melted once it hit the ground. Scott could see that the seat of his bike was already slick with moisture.

"Nothing," Scott pulled his friend along. "I'm going to need a ride home."

Stiles wiped the snow off his face as they walked. Allison popped up next to them as they got closer to the door.

"I didn't know that it snowed in California," she said as she fell in step.

"We're not far from Oregon," Stiles cut in before Scott could speak. "It's odd for the time of the year, but we get a few inches of snow each year."

Lydia appeared next to Allison.

"About eight inches," the redhead held her thumb and index finger apart.

Scott blushed, Allison laughed, and Stiles tried to make his brain comprehend that Lydia Martin had just spoken to him. Or at him. At least near him. She showed up to talk to Allison, and she even spoke to Scott a few times, but Stiles was wearing her down. His ten-year plan was in place.

Jackson pulled Lydia closer to him as he strode to the group. He glared at Scott and utterly ignored Stiles. Talk around school regarding lacrosse mentioned the new goalie rather than the standing captain and he had run out of people to bitch to once Danny called him out on it. Now Jackson brooded and glared. The two split off from the rest a moment later.

"Girl's night," Lydia said as she walked away. "You, me, and The Notebook."

"Ice cream and pajamas," Allison added. "Next time, I'm picking the movie."

"You could invite me too," Scott tried, and failed, to sound smooth.

"I bet you can paint nails with the best of them," she kissed him on the cheek. She checked to make sure the other two were out of range. "Anything going on?"

Scott shook his head. Stiles was mumbling to himself in what sounded like an imaginary conversation he was trying to work through.

"This isn't how I expected things to go," she shrugged. "Now that I know."

"What did you think would happen?"

"Lizard creatures, things that go bump in the night," she stopped. "Are there vampires?"

"Are there?" Stiles popped back to the conversation at hand.

"I don't know," Scott paused. "I'll have to ask. Whoa, what if there are?"

"Would that mean that there is other stuff out there?" Stiles started to talk faster as he went. "We know that werewolves exist, but that is just one portion of folklore. Vampires, swamp creatures, Frankenstein. Bigfoot! Crap, what if Bigfoot is real? Then by association the argument for Nessie would also gain some ground. And yetis."

"Stiles there is no such thing as yetis or Bigfoot," Scott cut in. "I'll ask about vampires."

"Bigfoot could just be a werewolf sighting," Allison sighed. "It's like learning the Easter Bunny is real, but Santa still doesn't exist."

"Santa isn't real?" Stiles gasped.

"The Easter Bunny and werewolves wouldn't mix very well," Scott whispered.

"I'll see you in second period," Allison kissed him on the cheek again.

Stiles held out his cheek. Allison patted him and walked away.

"I need a girlfriend," Stiles sighed. "Or a boyfriend. Do you think Danny could hook me up on a date?"

Scott shook his head as he walked toward his class.

"Hey," Stiles called after him. "I'm a catch. I'm cute, loyal, and I have a lot of energy. I just described a puppy. That could work for me. People love puppies."

~

Peter flipped through the papers on his desk. It amazed him how much could accumulate in this digital age. A hard copy was nice, but four was just silly. The insurance money had come in and the settlement shortly after that. They had enough money to rebuild the house or possibly build a new one. There was also the possibility of expanding the preserve. The land around it had been the spot for a subdivision, but the plans had fallen through once the company in charge went under. There would be a road splitting the new addition from the original.

Movement outside caught his eye. He looked up from the papers to see snow drifting down from puffy clouds. Peter stepped away from the table. The main room was split into an office and dining area. There were three window that looked out on the driveway below. He watched as the snow melted upon impact.

Peter took a deep breath. He filtered the familiar scent of the apartment and nearby area. There were times that he wanted to simply shrug off the burn scars, but now people knew him and his story. He would need to take his time to avoid suspicions. A slow recovery meant he spent a lot of time at home. Netflix was a blessing.

"Cinnamon," he said softly.

He crossed to the office portion of the room and opened his laptop. Digital archives were a wonderful thing. In a matter of minutes, he had a search program going through the old Hale pack lore, the accumulated information he'd been able to gather since he woke up, and a few online collections he had found.

Snow. Cinnamon. Enchantment.