I dropped Scott off at school in time for lacrosse practice so that he could keep an eye on Danny. I was at a red light not even two blocks away when my phone buzzed and Catwoman flashed on the screen.

He's looking so twitterpated, it's obnoxious. I don't know how she isn't creeped out by this.

I snorted and texted her back: Maybe because it's Danny, Erica? You know, the guy with dimples worthy of a J.L. Hooker song?

Seriously, Stiles, figure this out.

I put my phone back in my pocket. The light turned green.

I considered my options, as I drove along. I could get back, sort through pages and pages of mostly useless information on the internet, or I could follow up on a hunch, and follow up on Ms. Potter's license plate. The only problem with that second option was that I couldn't do it at home. If Danny was helping, yeah, that'd be no problem, but I wasn't a hacker. My knowledge of computers is mostly limited to knowing where to find reliable research; SIRS and ipl2 were great normally, but real magic required flipping through obscure message boards on page 50 of a google search. But if I wanted to get into the town's license plate registry I was going to have to do it from somewhere official. Like my dad's office.

I didn't realize I was heading that way until I was just a block away. I turned right before it came into sight and pulled over. I needed an excuse to be there.

"Hey, Jennifer," I said with a grin, "looking as beautiful as ever, I see."

Jennifer looked surprised, and I didn't blame her. I used to come into the station all the time as a kid and she got used to seeing me around, but I hadn't been in much since Scott got bit. "Hello Stiles. What are you doing here?"

I shook the plastic container of deli shop salad in my hand a bit. "Thought I'd make sure my dad isn't surviving on break room donuts and take-out. You mind if I go see him?"

She looked a little sad as she said, "Honey, your dad isn't supposed to be in for a couple of hours."

I know. "Really? We, uh, haven't really been all that caught up lately. Do you think I could just leave this on his desk? I'm probably not going home for a few more hours, so…" At least I didn't have to fake the guilt.

She worried he bottom lip with her teeth, thinking. "Go on through. I'm sure he'll be glad to see that you thought of him, even if it means he doesn't have an excuse to go order out for dinner."

Normally I'd be all over that bit of information, but I had a job to do; shaming my dad into healthy eating would just have to happen later. "Thanks. It was really nice seeing you again."

A few more officers nodded to me or said hi as I went past, and it was nice. Almost like the past couple years never happened. I resolved to start coming back more often when this was over. But now was not the time. I closed the door to my dad's office behind me and put the salad on the desk.

It didn't take too long to pull up the license registration. I've known all of my dad's passwords since I was twelve, and he hasn't changed them yet. That was probably something else I was going to have to bring up, but couldn't at the moment.

Ms. Potter turned out to be Malea Chase, a novelist who lived near the woods on the opposite side of town from Derek. It would explain why he never noticed her shenanigans before, if I was willing to assume that she was the witch responsible for this. Which I was. I printed her address and left quickly, nodding distractedly at the officers as I tried to get Scott on the phone. Sometimes I don't even know why he bothers to have one, with how rarely he picks it up.

"What's going on?"

"Gah!" I clutched at my chest, wielding my phone like the world's least effective bludgeon. "Ohmygod, Derek. Why can't you ever behave like a normal person? Wave at me, knock on my window, not break into my car and wait for me inside."

I was still trying to reach Scott as I clambered into my car, so at first I hadn't noticed that my passenger seat was radiating a sense of doom and gloom all wrapped up into one desperately unhappy package. Sometimes I thought that the only pleasures Derek took in life were lurking and sneaking up on teenagers to give them heart attacks.

"You weren't at your house, so I tracked your scent here. Why are you here?" He was giving me that weird searching look he had whenever I did something he isn't expecting. At least it wasn't the approving face; I always knew I was doing something extra stupid when he looked at me that way.

Yeah, most of our conversations were in facial expressions. It would have been easier if he just used his words, but nothing about Derek's life was easy, and he tended to not be very good at changing that. Or at dealing with change in general, really.

I started up the car. It would be good to have some back-up while I checked out the house, and Derek was better than nothing. I said, "Okay, so, you remember the woman at Deaton's? With the cat."

"Her perfume stung my nose," said Derek.

"Huh. I didn't smell anything." I pondered this for a moment before getting back on topic. "Well, some things I noticed about her didn't add up, and long story short, I think she's our wicked witch. I figured I'd check out her house and see if I can confirm my theory. I tried to call Scott, but he must have left his phone in his locker or something, so it looks like you're my back-up."

Derek shifted uncomfortably and I raised an eyebrow at him. "You could have called me, or one of my betas."

I shrugged. "I probably would have, if I couldn't get ahold of Scott or Lydia. But you have a habit of turning up even when I don't call."

We drove the rest of the way in near silence, me planning our reconnaissance mission, and him clumsily texting his betas with orders.

A few minutes later we pulled up a block away from an unassuming little house on the edge of town, who's backyard appeared to bleed into the forest seamlessly. There were neighbors, but not for a way in either direction. In the driveway out front there were four cars, Malea's among them.

Derek rolled down the window and sniffed the air suspiciously. "I can't smell anything here," he said, sounding disturbed.

"So I was wrong, then?" I'd been so sure.

"No, I mean I don't smell anything. The house and the air around it have no scent at all."

We looked at each other briefly and climbed out. I was almost regretting that we'd grown out of the phase when people tried to get me to stay in the car. The house was almost creepy in how nondescript, how unmemorable, it was. I shivered in the warm, afternoon air.

Derek sniffed the air again, but this time his head snapped in the direction of the woods. "I can smell her cheap perfume about a mile out into the woods. Wait here." He ran off before I could even open my mouth to protest. Okay, I guess we weren't over that stage after all.

I went back to my Jeep and opened the trunk. The tire iron I kept in there was a welcome, heavy weight in my hand. I closed up my car, sent one last text off to Superman.

Scott, don't freak out. Following Derek into creepy woods to go after witch.

I sent it, considered, and sent another.

P.S. If I die, don't let Isaac claim any of my stuff.

And then I headed off into the forest, trailing a werewolf who was hunting a witch, because my life is surreal and I make awful decisions. I really hoped Scott read my text before they started sorting my belongings.

Author's Note: Hello all! Feedback would be much appreciated. Thanks for reading.