Unopened presents lay silently under a beautifully lit Christmas tree. It's thin, piny branches were laden with red and gold bulbs, flashing multi-colored lights, candy canes, and an odd assortment of Santa Clause shaped ornaments. The tree's base was draped over with a red velvet blanket I'd bought especially for the occasion. I'd bought a small, porcilean recreation of the manger where baby Jesus lay asleep, accompanied by three wise men, his mother and father, and a little drummer boy. Goats, lambs, and sheep all waited patiently around the figures in awe of the miracle. And at their feet, were the many, many needle-like shavings from the tree. It was Christmas... almost.

I tip-toed through the dim house. The trees light helped alot while I maneuvered around the sleeping figures on the floor.

Nick and Emily were deep asleep. Their bodies were held close together by the new fire place I'd put in about a year after we'd officially moved in. Breathing quietly, and enjoying the peaceful slumber they both shared, I stepped over them.

I thought of when Nick first saw Angela naked, not that there was a second time. That thought that ran through his mind was still fresh in mine. And it made me chuckle as I bent down to add a few more presents too the tree. So, this is what real naked woman looks like? Angela would have strangled him on the spot if she'd heard it.

He didn't mean anything by it, he'd just never seen one before. And after being with Emily for three years now, it was starting to wear me down. Even with instinct clawing at their throats for each other, they resisted. I wasn't sure why though. Not that I'd ever asked. I just wrote it off as a, "Waiting til we're married" thing. I didn't understand it. Even if it was part of the Christian religion, I didn't follow it at all. Nature wouldn't allow me. But somehow, through the thick torment that I knew plagued them, they resisted. And not to sound parental, but I was proud of them... to a point.

The problem came with Nicks jittery aura. Constantly in motion during consciousness, never anymore restless. And as I'd told him time and time again to just give in, he wouldn't. And by the end of every argument, he just said, he couldn't. And without an explanation, he'd leave me too my effects.

Emily was the same way, in her stubbornness, but she was more in control. She wasn't as fidgety, nor as annoying. She could actually sit through a sex scene in a movie, Nick always left the room if the two main characters even kissed. It made going to the movies into a game of pick up sticks. With him wandering around, and the two girls never wanting to leave... I was always trying to gather them all back up.

Emily, who's fear of changing finally subsided when I'd yelled at her too, was now as passive as ever. Which, at times, worried me. I couldn't even pick on her anymore. Still slightly depressed that she'd tried to tear me in half, her confidence was shot, and every time I tried to bring it back up with a good hunt, or a day out of the house, she'd turn me down. But, I never gave up.

Once I'd actually gotten her to try out her new form. Sure I was scared, but it was mostly for her. If she were too live in fear of her second form, then she could never be satisfied with living with others who were. Others being just me.

Angela was another abnormality, but she and I practically shared the same ability. And to be able too read minds in a fight, made all the difference. It got to the point where when she'd instigate a fight with me, we'd be wrestling in our heads more than on the ground. And before either of us moved a muscle, I'd let her win. She was a brilliant fighter, but when you know every move your opponent was about to make... it made the fight a lot less fun.

Fighting with Nick was fun, and he could definitely hold his own. He was fast, wiry, and cunning. Our first fight where I wasn't using his mind against him, he took me down in less than a minute. Yet, after the fight, he was ashamed to have done so.

I'd learned over the three year period we'd lived in peace, that in being an alpha, the others seemed to have a reluctance to listen to me... if I used the right tone. As with yelling at Emily to instigate her first, real, change, she listened without complaint.

I didn't use if often. Even though the thought of it was a little funny to me. I could picture the look on Nick's face as I yelled at him to go get us some McDonalds.

Stiffling another chuckle, I settled the presents in with the others, their bright-red wrapping was a mess of rounded edges and excessive tape. Something Angela would be quick too comment on in the morning. I never learned to gift wrap though. Even with Emily and Angela hammering it into me that it was easy. I guess my talents lied in cooking alone.

Thanksgiving memories flashed across my mind as I thought of food. I'd cooked everything that you possibly could for the occasion. Turkey, of course, stuffing, grilled chicken, three types of gravy, four types of biscuits, pumpkin pie, pecan pie, blueberry pie, red beans and rice, potato salad, etc...

We barely had enough room for all of it. The kitchen was like a taste testing facility. And with Mrs. Nicole helping herself as I cooked, and Nick's family doing the same, I was a stress filled mess. Constantly having Angela shoo people away, and trying to maintain having food on every burner on the stove and in the oven, along with on the grill... it was a very long day. But the pay off was great. We said grace, ate, and were stuffed and happy for two days. The fridge was still packed with food from Thanksgiving.

Claire had come down to celebrate, but because of her new job at a local college near where she lived, she could only stay two days. And as always when she left, I'd wished she could have stayed longer.

The sound of a car pulling into my driveway halted all of my movement. Please turn around. I begged, hoping the noise wouldn't wake the two behind me.

Nick rolled over, snorting a little, and Emily followed suit a little quieter, and I was grateful that it ended with that. Usually they were easily awoken, but after the Tripdophan in the turkey had taken hold of them, they were out like a pair of busted lights. Thank God for Thanksgiving.

I heard a door open, a door slam, and then footsteps as the car drove away. I prayed to hear Wilson's voice, or even Derricks. I knew it wasn't Claire. She was spending Christmas with her family in Connecticut.

A small voice sounded on the porch, debating whether or not to come in. I had trouble figuring out whether or not he was talking or thinking. That was a major problem when talking to normal people over the phone. I usually had to take an educated guess, or wait quietly on the other side of the phone line until they repeated their selves.

I didn't wait for him to knock, and with a quickness that bordered dangerously loud, I swung open the door.

This kid, was about five foot eight, five foot nine. His black hair was cut short, military style. Which really didn't hold his surprised expression as well as it should have. And as he stumbled for words, I noticed a large, green bag that leant against the side of the doorway.

"Can I help you?" I asked trying to sound more polite than confused.

His green eyes blinked rapidly as he apparently tried to read my features. I hadn't noticed the porch light wasn't on, and when I flipped it, he raised his hand to shield his eyes.

"I'm looking for a Michael Chalk."

I mused as if there were only one Michael Chalk, but brushed it off as an aggravation for being bothered at two in the morning.

"I'm... him." I really didn't know how to respond as I tried to listen to this kids thoughts, but they were so wild and torrential, I couldn't read anything except his excitement. Which wasn't registering on his face, save a small smile that pulled the left side of his mouth out slightly.

Where as he was at a loss of words, his body language spoke paragraphs. His once sluggish, tired posture, straightened slightly at hearing me announce my presence, and his fingers started to tap against his legs as he thought impatiently how to talk.

"Who's asking?"

He seemed to snap out of his inner dialogue and he reached his hand out to shake mine. "Alan, Alan Davis." The name didn't ring any bells what so ever, but I reached out and shook his hand regardless.

"So why are you on my doorstep..." The smell of wolves hung heavy on his clothes and in his hair. There were dozens of different scents, most of them were easily recognizable, but I couldn't put a face or name to the scent. For a second, I was trapped in glare that seemed to take him back as I thought about the scents. Their musty aroma were definitely familiar.

"Where are you coming from, Alan?" I asked, letting my glare turn to a stare of wonder. "That you'd smell like a pack of wolves..."

He smiled more and more as I interrogated him. The rain blistered down behind him, but regardless, I wasn't about to let some stranger in my house smelling like that.

"Canada."

That's where it's coming from! I thought. Marcus's scent was strongest out of them all, and I felt a little disappointed in myself for not noticing earlier, but it was quickly withdrawn by wonder... and a little excitement. I hadn't heard anything from Canada, except my frequent letters to and from Dr. Curry. The man who'd saved my life three years ago.

"Why are you here?" I didn' mean to be so blunt, but having a strange kid, barely over thirteen, show up at your doorstep at two in the morning on Christmas eve, wasn't really keeping me in the best of moods.

He seemed to notice my anxiousness, and quickly tore a note from his thick, jacket pocket.

I took it politely, unfolded the we paper, and skimmed over it.

Dear Michael,

I'm sorry we never got the chance too meet, and looks like we never will. But I've known you ever since your father first met you. His letters to me from the safe haven in Louisiana told me all about you and your friends. He said if I ever needed anything, to contact you, but with Marcus hanging around, that much would be impossible. Instead, I've sent my son. I cannot allow him to live here, cramped and controlled by Marcus like the others. Living with you is his only chance to be with a real family, not a conglomeration of wolves such as these. And so, under the assumption that you will accept my plea, I thank you. Had it not been for your father, I would never have known either of you. And I feel so selfish having kept Alan to myself like this, but I couldn't risk Dane's life just to keep him from his second son.

With love,

Evelyn Grace Davis

It took me a few times too read it to finally piece it all together.

"Huh." I stated. Shock can do a lot to a person. And for me, it shut down my emotion. I felt as though I'd just read a summons to appear in court. "Have you read this?" I asked, my blue eyes locking on to his bright green stare. He was full of hope and wonder as he nodded.

"Huh." I said again. "Hang on."

I stumbled a little as I walked back inside, the door slowly pulled itself closed behind me.

It took me all of two seconds to grab my cigarettes and walk back outside. He'd apparently gotten bored in that short wait and was now sitting in the wicker chair closest too the door, toying with the clip that held his green bag's lid shut.

Without a word I walked over too his side, took a seat, lit a cigarette and smiled. "A brother..."

He was definitely Dane's son. Hell, he looked more like my father than I did. Smelt like him too. That lingering scent hadn't drifted around my house in years. Not since he died. It was definitely Christmas.