Author's Note: I know I forgot to mention this, but I envisioned Helena Argent being played by the amazing Ellen Burstyn.


| What Their Mother Made Them |

"You should have called first," Chris said, looking out his kitchen window and down at the three SUVs in front of his apartment building.

"I did," Helena replied, seated at the small round kitchen table with a cup of tea, Gerard across from her. There were several armed men in suits around the apartment: at the entrance to the kitchen, at the front door, outside in the lobby, by the bedroom where the windows could lead out onto the balcony, and elsewhere.

"Having Martine call three minutes before you arrived doesn't count, mother. Nor does it excuse the 'extended radio silence.'"

"Christopher, I've come all this way. Do you really want to talk about telephone calls?"

"It's been years," he retorted, turning to look at her. When she didn't answer, he took his seat between them. "Why're you here? It's certainly not to pay your respects to my wife or your granddaughter."

Gerard gave Chris a look of surprise, ready to caution him, but Helena spoke. "I've come to complete your father's work."

/ | * | * | \

"You talked to Peter?" Rafe said, driving his FBI-assigned vehicle down the beginnings of downtown Beacon Hills. "The man who tried to kill you?"

"I know it was stupid," Scott said, looking out the passenger's window. "I'm sorry."

"Scott, it wasn't stupid. It was brave." Scott looked at his father, Rafe glancing over briefly; the silent exchange seemed to speak a lot. "I mean, yes, I can't say as I've had an easy time with all this. Every day I worry about you. About the unknown danger that's waiting for you."

"Dad—"

"I mean, not that I didn't before. Just now...it's so much more intensified. But, I also know you're special. You're an alpha—a true alpha—for a reason. You're a leader and even though you and your friends do some questionable things, they look up to you. And they should. I'm proud of you."

"Okay, okay," Scott said, turning back to look out the window. He could feel it in his face and in his chest, the emotions he'd buried about his father. He could also sense the positivity coming from the man next to him, the warmth and encouragement; Scott didn't even need to see that his father was smiling. "Thanks, dad," he finally said. "You know I'm glad you came back, right? I mean, even before you said all that."

"I did, but it's great to hear you say it."

They came upon Argent's building and as Rafe began to get into the turn lane, Scott said, "Keep driving."

"Scott?" he said, pulling back into the straight-bound lane.

"Just keep going." They drove for another half of a mile before turning into a small shopping center.

"What happened? Was it Kate? You pick up on her scent?"

"Not a scent," Scott said, looking at his father. "A smell. Gunpowder. And a lot of it."

/ | * | * | \

"This is for you own good," Helena said as two of the men in the apartment held Chris, a third punching him in the gut. He fell to his knees and one of the two holding him tightened a pair of cuffs around his wrists; the other man stretched out a length of duct tape and placed it over his mouth. "I understand why you helped the alpha. You were following orders and after Allison's death," she said, Chris struggling at her mention, "he was all you had left. You followed the new code she laid out and I can accept that. But that's over now. Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent and we are being hunted. Our family. Our world. No more, Christopher, and this time you'll sit this one out and let us do what needs to be done." Chris struggled as they got him to his feet. "And there'll be no interference from you," she warned just before they took him out of the apartment."

Helena turned to Gerard. "As for you, I'll forget these nasty rumors, about your supposed attempts to cure your cancer."

She held out her hand. Gerard took and kissed it. "My dearest Helena, thank you."

The matriarch smiled as their fingers interlocked. "So, tell me, where is my daughter?"

/ | * | * | \

"I have to admit, I was surprised to get your text," Jordan Parrish said, walking up to Scott crouching behind a at the edge of the line.

"I'm just glad you were nearby," Scott replied.

"Needed milk," the hellhound retorted with a smile. He was dressed in civilian clothes, his shift not starting until morning. "Are you sure you don't want me to call it in?"

"Not yet. I saw some people walk in. Armed. No gunshots." He looked back at the deputy. "And, Lydia's not nearby."

"No, but I am." They exchanged a look and prepared to move when they saw Argent being led down some front steps by two men. The wolf and hellhound exchanged another look before Scott rushed forward. When he was finally spotted, Jordan shot out the three lights in the overhanging in the parking lot.

Chris fell to the ground as Scott began to brawl with his captors. In one motion he disarmed one, and then the other, avoiding a gunshot to his face in the process. A third man came from inside the lobby, taking aim at the source of the red glowing eyes. Parrish was there, ready. A fiery blow to the back of the man's shoulder sent him face down into the pavement, rendering him unconscious. Scott fell to his hands, kicking his feet in a roundabout circle, striking both in the face and launching one into a nearby car.

The two supernatural men lifted Chris up by his arms and took off towards the treeline where they had emerged from. They very quickly heard searching-voices, flashlights attached to heavier arms turning on. The three men hopped into Rafe's waiting SUV and he took off, his lights off and heading away from downtown. In the back with Argent, Jordan ripped the tape off his mouth. "What happened?" the deputy asked.

Argent looked up at the mirror, catching Scott's eyes. "You're all in danger."