Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or Once Upon a Time.

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Chapter 10: The Demon and the Hatter

In the woods outside Storybrooke…

"Deucalion?" Jackson asked in confusion, frowning. "What kind of name is that?"

The Alpha smirked, lazily twirling his cane between his fingers. "Witty, aren't you?" His eyes flickered red as he folded up his cane in a businesslike manner, storing it in his jacket pocket. "I've met Omegas before. Always so lonely, with no place in the world. No pack to help them, no family…" He glanced up, his eyes focusing on Jackson. "I'm assuming that feeling's familiar to you."

"I get the general idea, yeah," Jackson muttered, his own eyes narrowed. "You still haven't answered my first question. What do you want with me?"

Deucalion raised an eyebrow. "Well, it's quite simple, really. You're an Omega. You have no pack, I already know that much. Lone wolves rarely survive for long: you've been lucky so far." He smiled. "I'm offering you what you don't have: a pack, somewhere to belong."

"And what makes you think I'm interested?" Jackson shot back, flexing his claws. "I don't play well with others."

The Alpha chuckled. "You know, I had people like you in my pack once: my last pack constantly challenged my authority." His chuckle faded. "They got over it eventually. I'm sure you will too."

Jackson glared at the Alpha, his eyes flickering blue. "And if I say no?"

Deucalion stared calmly back at him. "Then I shall persuade you." He considered for a moment. "Perhaps a demonstration would give you some idea of what you could gain under my leadership."

"Okay, screw this." Jackson's eyes flashed blue, and he snarled, lunging at the Alpha. His first swipe missed completely as Deucalion casually sidestepped his attack, a single lazy kick from the older werewolf sweeping his legs out from under him and causing him to fall flat on his face.

"The first lesson you must learn is simple," Deucalion drawled, as Jackson scrambled back to his feet. "You are a lone wolf… and it's been made more than clear to me throughout my life that a lone wolf rarely survives."

"Shut up," Jackson hissed. He lunged again, throwing a punch at the older man's face, but his fist hit nothing, and a swift blow to the stomach floored him again.

"But if you join me," the Alpha murmured, "you would not be alone anymore. Not only that, but you would become stronger than you are now. Not just in the sense of 'wolves are stronger together', but literally stronger. By joining a pack, you would become stronger, faster, better, than you are now. And, despite your… corruption… I believe you would fit in well as part of my pack."

Jackson growled as he rose to his feet, his fangs bared and claws extended, his eyes burning blue. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he spat.

"Your eyes, of course," Deucalion replied matter-of-factly. "Don't think I didn't notice."

Jackson stiffened, remembering what Derek had told him before he'd left Beacon Hills; his werewolf eyes glowed blue, not yellow like Scott and the other Betas in Derek's pack, because he had taken innocent lives, thus "darkening his soul" or some crap like that. To be fair, he had been the Kanima at the time, but the effects of his murder spree had stayed with him even after he'd gotten control back.

"That wasn't my fault," he bit out.

"Oh, believe me, I'm not judging," Deucalion said dryly. "If I weren't an Alpha, I assure you that my eyes would be just as blue as yours, my dear boy."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" Jackson snarled.

"Just trying to establish some common ground," the older man replied with a faint smile. He sighed. "It's very simple: I need a pack, and you need an Alpha. I intend to establish a new home in this area, and you are just the sort of individual I need to help me with that. And, if you're truly insistent upon refusing…" His eyes flashed red. "Then I can't very well allow an Omega to continue living in my new territory, can I?"

Jackson glared daggers at Deucalion. "And where are you planning to find other Betas to join this new pack of yours?" he growled. "Even if I said yes, you'd still need more than one, right?"

"Well, of course." Deucalion smiled. "But in a town this size, I'm sure there are at least a few worthy individuals who would be interested in accepting my offer." His smile widened, showing his fangs.

Jackson inhaled sharply. "You… you'd just go around biting people?"

The Alpha shrugged. "Only if they're worthy of this gift. But if they are… then yes."

The young Omega's eyes narrowed to burning blue slits. His hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, his claws digging into his own palms and drawing blood, as his fangs ground together. He thought of the people he knew here in Storybrooke – Emma, Mary Margaret, Henry, Ruby – and imagined them in the crosshairs of this monstrous werewolf. Just that image was enough to unlock a fury inside him, welling up and consuming him, lowering a red tint over his vision.

"No," he rasped, his voice harsh and strained.

Deucalion paused. "What?"

"I said no!" This last bit was a full-out roar, as Jackson whirled, eyes blazing, and launched himself full-force at the Alpha.

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Emma sped along the dark road, her spotlights illuminating the trees on either side of the street. A drifting fog was obscuring her view of the road, so she tapped the brakes, slowing down a bit so that she could react in time if anything happened.

As she drove, her mind was racing, trying to figure out how this had happened. She'd arrived back at the jail with Mr. Gold, trying to plan out Mary Margaret's defense, only to find Henry alone at the station, and Mary Margaret's jail cell open and empty. Somehow, the teacher had escaped and made a run for it, probably out of sheer panic more than any rational strategy, so Emma had promptly gone after her.

The sheriff was so distracted by her racing thoughts that she failed to notice the human silhouette walking along the shoulder of the road until the last moment. Her eyes widened, and she swerved, narrowly avoiding the man just as he dove out of the way, tumbling head-over-heels down the incline next to the road.

Screeching to a halt on the shoulder, Emma threw open the door and jumped out of the car, sprinting back to where the man had fallen. Fortunately, he didn't seem to be hurt, as he was already sitting up by the time she reached him.

"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, rushing over to him and helping him up. "Are you okay? I didn't see you there."

The man rubbed his head, letting out a groan. "Ah… I think so," he answered. He had tousled dark hair, a lean, handsome face, and a friendly smile.

"Are you sure?" Emma asked, somewhat anxiously, as she helped him up.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just not used to sharing the road with cars so late." The man grinned, stretching and rolling his neck and shoulders to loosen up. Then he glanced over at her, looking at her more closely, and his eyes widened in realization. "You're the Sheriff, aren't you?" he asked.

Emma grinned ruefully, nodding. "Yeah," she answered with a nod.

"What brings you out here in the middle of the night?"

Emma's expression grew slightly more guarded; she didn't want anyone to know what she was really doing out here, for obvious reasons. "Oh, nothing to worry about; I'm just looking for a lost dog."

"Oh, I see." The man smiled. "Well, I hope you find it."

She grinned. "Thanks."

With a nod, the guy started heading off down the road, but he was clearly limping. Emma's eyes widened. "Oh, you are hurt!"

"No, I just… twisted my ankle, I think." The guy rubbed at his leg, smiling in amusement. "I live about a mile down the road; I'll make it there okay."

Emma shook her head earnestly. "No, let me drive you. I insist."

The man looked over at her, then smiled. "Well, thank you; that's very kind." He shook her hand. "I'm Jefferson, by the way."

"Emma." She returned the handshake, and then took him by the arm to help him back towards her car.

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Jackson crashed to the ground in a heap, spitting blood. He'd thrown everything he had at the Alpha, but nothing had connected; he was completely outclassed. "Damn… you…" he gasped, fingers digging into the forest floor as he tried to get back up, before collapsing.

Deucalion strolled nonchalantly towards him, flicking blood off his claws. While Jackson looked and felt like he'd been beaten half to death, the Alpha was completely unharmed. "I trust this has been an adequate lesson," he deadpanned, smiling faintly. "As it seems that you are unable to continue, we are done for tonight." He smiled. "Take some time to think it over. Once you decide that you're willing to see reason and join my pack, feel free to come and find me. I won't hide my scent, so you'll be able to track me down once you're ready."

"Go to hell," Jackson muttered, unable to muster the strength to get up.

The Alpha crouched down beside him, grasping one arm. "To show you that I'm serious…" Jackson felt an odd tingling sensation, and looked over to see the veins on the back of his hand turn black, as if he was draining something out of Jackson's arm. To his surprise, the younger man felt the pain of his injuries starting to fade, melting away almost completely. Deucalion inhaled sharply, but remained still. Releasing his grasp on the younger werewolf, he rose back to his full height. "I do provide for those who are under my care, Jackson. Keep that in mind." With that, he turned and started to walk away.

However, before he'd gone more than a few steps, the Alpha paused. "Oh, and by the way, if you do insist on refusing, just know that I will find new werewolves to join me. One way or another." With that, he disappeared into the trees.

Jackson lay there for a minute, feeling his enhanced healing kicking in, mending the cuts and bruises he'd accumulated over the course of the fight. All it took was a few minutes, and he was fully healed. He still felt exhausted, but he felt much better than he had at the end of the fight.

Clambering to his feet, Jackson leaned against a tree, looking around. At this point, he just wanted to go back to the inn, collapse onto his bed, and sleep for a week. But he'd gotten a bit turned around during his furious pursuit of Deucalion and the subsequent fight, and he wasn't quite sure where he was relative to the town.

"Ah, crap," he muttered. Closing his eyes and taking several deep breaths to relax, he reached out with his enhanced senses of smell and hearing, trying to identify anything that could help him to locate the town.

That was when a small, distant sound reached his perceptions. It was faint, barely audible, so it was clearly coming from quite some distance away. The sound appeared to be that of distant music, the tone soft and melancholy. Straining, turning his head slowly in an arc, he homed in on the source.

Finally, his eyes opened, flickering blue as he locked onto the source of the noise, and he started jogging through the woods towards its source. If that wasn't the town, then there was at least someone in this direction, and he could ask them how to get back.

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Emma was starting to really regret the whole "good Samaritan" thing.

She'd gotten Jefferson back to his place easily enough, although she'd been surprised when his "house" turned out to be pretty much a mansion. The problem had come when it had turned out that he'd been faking his limp to draw her back there… which she'd only realized after he'd given her tea that turned out to be drugged. She'd woken up a while later with a headache, to discover that her erstwhile host had left her tied up on his couch. Fortunately, she'd been able to get free, but she had then learned that not only was the house basically on lockdown, but the man of the hour was in another room down the hall, listening to classical music while sharpening a very large and dangerous-looking pair of scissors. She had understandably hurried away, trying to find the nearest exit; instead, however, she'd found Mary Margaret, in the same position she'd been in. Emma had managed to free her friend, but they hadn't been able to get out of the house before they'd been caught by the now-gun-wielding Jefferson, who had promptly tied Mary Margaret back up.

The strangest part of this whole experience, however, was right now, as he led her into a small room with dozens of top hats lining the walls.

Clearly, this guy was nuts. But that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous, so she needed to be extremely careful.

"I don't know what you think you're doing," Emma managed, her voice a bit unsteady, "but if you hurt my friend, I swear I'll make you regret it."

"Hurt her?" Jefferson scoffed. "I'm saving her life."

"How do you figure that?"

His eyes narrowed. "Don't play stupid. We both know what happens when people try to leave Storybrooke."

Emma frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"The curse."

"What curse?"

He stared at her as if it should have been obvious. "The one keeping us trapped. All except you."

At this, Emma rolled her eyes. "Oh, for – what, have you been reading Henry's book or something?"

"Henry?" Jefferson frowned. "The Queen's father?"

"Henry, the Mayor's adopted kid," Emma snapped.

"Oh!" Jefferson nodded. "That Henry. Your Henry. And his book of stories, the ones you choose to ignore." His eyes narrowed. "Maybe, if you knew what I know, you wouldn't."

Emma glanced over to the corner, where there was a telescope pointed out the window; she had looked through another one earlier, and found that it had been pointed straight at the Sheriff's station where she worked. "Why have you been spying on me?" she asked.

Jefferson groaned, looking singularly exasperated, and looked out the window. "Because, for the last twenty-eight years, I've been stuck in this house. Day after day, always the same." He rounded on her. "Until one night, when you, in your little yellow Bug, roll into town. And then the clock ticks, and for the first time, things start to change." His eyes gleamed. "You see, I know what you refuse to acknowledge, Emma. You're special. And you brought something precious to Storybrooke." He grinned eagerly, a touch of instability in his expression. "Magic."

Emma stared at him. "You're insane," she said quietly.

Jefferson chuckled. "Why? Because I speak the truth?"

"Because you're talking about magic!"

"I'm talking about what I've seen." He smirked. "Perhaps you're the one that's mad."

"Really?"

"What's crazier than seeing and not believing? Because that's exactly what you've been doing ever since you got to our little hamlet." His dark gaze became more intense. "Open your eyes. Look around. Wake up. Isn't it about time?"

Emma sighed. "What do you want?"

Jefferson's intensity subsided slightly as he turned to a sewing table. "I want you to get it to work," he said, sitting her down in front of the table.

Emma frowned, confused, as she looked up at him. "You want me to… get what to work?" she asked.

"You're the only one who can do this," he insisted, staring fixedly at the sewing supplies on the table. His expression softened slightly, and he spoke again, almost to himself. "You're going to get it to work."

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Jackson ran through the forest, homing in on the source of the music. After a while, it stopped, but he'd established the direction by now and was able to keep heading towards the source. Eventually, he finally broke through the trees, and found himself gazing up, to his surprise, at a large mansion, its exterior gleaming white.

"What the hell?" he breathed. He'd never seen this place before, but it was definitely impressive.

Pacing around the edge of the trees in the hopes that no one inside would notice him, he made his way around to the front door, planning to knock and ask for directions back into town. No one answered when he knocked, however. He looked for a doorbell, but this must've been an older house, because he couldn't find one.

Looking for another way in, he wandered around the side of the house, looking for any signs of occupants. He did find a car under a tarp, but no other way in.

Wait… He frowned. Something about the car seemed familiar. He pulled off the tarp, and stepped back with a start when he realized why it was familiar; the car was Emma's yellow Bug.

Jackson raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Emma?" he muttered. "What're you doing out here?"

That was when, from inside the house, he heard a scream.

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"I can't make it work," Emma muttered, throwing up her hands in exasperation. She'd sewed together a top hat from Jefferson's supplies, but there wasn't anything different about it from the others on the walls. "What you're asking me isn't possible."

"No!" Jefferson snapped, pacing, his expression growing desperate. "It has to be. If it's not, I'm never going home. I'll be cursed to live in this house forever."

Emma frowned, looking over at him. "What's so 'cursed' about your life?" she asked. "Look at this place! It's beautiful. Doesn't seem cursed to me."

"It's cursed because, like everyone else here, what I love has been ripped from me," Jefferson answered with a heavy sigh. He looked through another telescope in the corner of the room, which was pointed out one of the windows, and then glanced back to Emma, before beckoning her over. "Here. Take a look." He stepped back, indicating the telescope.

A bit reluctantly, Emma stood up, crossed the room, and peered through the telescope. Through it, she could see a fairly small house, some distance away. A light was on in the window, showing a family eating dinner: two adults and a little girl.

"Her name's Grace," Jefferson said sadly. "Here, it's Paige. But it's really Grace. My Grace." He sighed, rubbing at his head. "Do you have any idea what it's like to watch her day in, day out, happy, with a new family? With a new father?"

Surprised, Emma turned to face him. "You think she's your daughter?"

"I don't 'think' – I know. I remember." Jefferson sighed. "But she has no idea who I am. She doesn't remember our life together, where we come from. I do. That's my curse."

"To remember," Emma murmured.

Jefferson nodded. "Back home, I always wanted what was best for her. To give her the nicest things, the best home, everything. Now I have all of that, but I don't have Grace. What good is this house, these things, if I can't share them with her?"

Emma stared at him for a moment. "But… if you really think she's your daughter, why don't you reach out to her? Why don't you tell her?"

"And destroy her reality?" Jefferson looked aghast. "I'm trapped by knowledge. How cruel do you think I am? You think I'd inflict that awareness on my daughter?" He rubbed at his temples, a pained expression on his face. "It's hard enough to live in a land where you don't belong. But knowing it, holding conflicting realities in your head… will drive you mad."

Emma stared at him, realization dawning. "That's why you want me to make the hat work, isn't it?" she asked. "You just want to take Grace home – to your world."

Jefferson nodded slowly, his voice quiet. "It's the one world where we can be together. Where she'll remember who I am."

Emma looked at him for a long moment, as if seeing him in a new light. "I know what it's like to be separated from your kid," she said.

Jefferson chuckled softly. "Yeah, you do, don't you?"

She nodded. "It can make you feel like you're losing your mind."

Jefferson rounded on her, scowling. "I'm not losing my mind!" he snapped. "I'm not crazy. This is real."

Emma was quiet for a moment. "Maybe," she said finally. "Maybe it is."

His eyes widened. "You believe?"

"If what you say is true… that woman in the other room is my mother." She looked up at him, a hint of vulnerability in her eyes. "And I want to believe that more than anything in the world. So, maybe you're right. Maybe I need to open myself up to more. Maybe… if I want magic, I have to start believing."

Jefferson smiled, an excited look in his eyes, as he turned back towards the sewing table. "So, you're… you're going to help me? You can get it to work?"

"I can try."

With that, Emma grabbed Jefferson's telescope and slammed it into the side of his head with all her strength. His head snapped to the side from the force of the blow, and he crumpled to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

"Crazy son of a bitch," Emma muttered, dropping the telescope. She picked up Jefferson's gun and hurried out of the room, rushing back down the hallway until she found the room where Mary Margaret was tied up. "Hey!" Yanking the gag out of her mouth, she began untying the teacher's restraints. "It's all right, I'm gonna get you out of here. You're going to be okay; he can't hurt you anymore–"

Mary Margaret's eyes widened. "Emma, look out!" she screamed, a moment before Jefferson, having apparently regained consciousness, slammed into Emma, tackling her into Mary Margaret and sending all three of them crashing to the floor.

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Jackson's eyes snapped open wide when he heard a woman's scream, coming from inside the mansion. With no hesitation, he raced up to the front door and kicked it open with a sharp crack of wood. Ducking inside, he raced up the front stairs, taking them two or three at a time, barreling towards the source of the disturbance. He could hear the sounds of a struggle coming from upstairs, and his hearing quickly pinpointed it.

Barreling down a hallway, he skidded to a halt as he saw a dark-haired guy aiming a pistol at Emma. The guy grinned, indicating a nasty-looking scar around his neck. "Off with his head," he chuckled.

"Hey!" Jackson yelled, drawing all three of their attention. He didn't really have a plan, but he knew that he could take a bullet and fare much better than Emma or Mary Margaret.

To his surprise, however, that wasn't what happened. Instead, the guy turned, an expression of total confusion appearing on his face as he stared wide-eyed at Jackson. "Jack?" he asked, frowning, his gun wavering.

That was when Mary Margaret rose up behind him and swung a croquet mallet with all of her strength, hitting the man and knocking the gun out of his hand. He staggered backwards, and she kicked him squarely in the chest, knocking him backwards into and through the window with a crash of shattered glass.

Jackson rushed forwards, joining the two women as they looked out the window. He leaned out, peering down at the ground, but all he could see was a fallen top hat and some shards of glass, the man had vanished.

"Are you all right?" he asked, turning to Emma.

"We're fine," Emma replied, nodding to him. "What're you doing here?"

"I was out for a run when I heard someone screaming," Jackson explained. He looked out of the window again. "We should probably get out of here, before he comes back."

Emma nodded. "Yeah, good idea. We've got more important things to take care of right now."

"Who was he, anyway?" Mary Margaret wondered.

Emma shook her head. "A very lonely man." She turned to Mary Margaret, raising an eyebrow. "By the way, have you been taking kickboxing and not telling me about it?"

Mary Margaret grinned nervously. "To be honest, I have no idea where that came from."

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Jackson leaned against Emma's car, watching as she retrieved her keys from where Jefferson had left them in the glove compartment.

"So, Sheriff…" Mary Margaret spoke up. "I guess you'll be taking me back now."

Emma looked at her and frowned. Then, to Jackson's surprise, she tossed the keys to Mary Margaret, who caught them reflexively. "Here. Go."

Mary Margaret's eyes widened. "You… you want me to run?"

"No. But it's your choice." Emma folded her arms. "Just know something: running ain't easy. I've done my share of it. And once you go, there's no stopping."

"Emma, everyone thinks I killed Kathryn." There was fear in the teacher's eyes.

"Mary Margaret, you have to believe me," Emma insisted. "You have to trust me. I know it seems impossible, but I can get you out of this."

"Why is it so important to you what happens to me?"

Emma smiled faintly. "Because, when Regina frames me, and you bailed me out, I asked you why. And you said it was because you trusted me." She looked down at her feet. "And then, when I wanted to leave Storybrooke because I thought it was best for Henry, you told me that I needed to stay because that was the best thing for him. And I realized… all of my life, I've been alone. Walls up. Nobody's ever been there for me like that – except for you. And I can't lose that. I cannot lose my family."

Mary Margaret's eyebrow quirked. "Family?"

"Friends. Whatever. You know what I mean." Emma locked eyes with the teacher, staring at her earnestly. "Wouldn't you rather face this together than alone?"

Mary Margaret looked from Emma, to Jackson, and back again. She blinked, swallowing.

And then she handed Emma back the keys.

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Jackson woke up fairly late in his room at the inn. He'd gotten a good night's sleep, his injuries had finished healing, and he felt much better. Taking a hot shower to clean off, he strolled down the stairs and headed out to the diner for lunch.

Having a seat in his favorite booth, he grinned as he saw Ruby behind the counter. She saw him and winked, before turning back to her work.

Jackson sighed, leaning back in his booth and resting his head. Fortunately, he and Emma had been able to get Mary Margaret back to the police station with plenty of time to spare, before she'd been scheduled for her arraignment. He had to admit, the teacher was stronger than he'd given her credit for.

Stretching, Jackson hissed in pain as something twinged in his side; the beating he'd taken the previous night had healed, but he was still sore. As he rubbed his side, his gaze fell on Ruby again, and he suddenly felt a chill, as Deucalion's words once again echoed through his mind.

"I will find new werewolves to join me. One way or another."

Jackson's eyes narrowed, fists clenching, at the thought of Ruby, or anyone else, finding themselves in the Alpha's crosshairs. He felt anger welling up inside him, and he let that anger give him purpose.

I'm not going to let him hurt them. Any of them. If he wants to turn anyone in this town… He felt a surge of resolve, and his lips curved in a fierce grin.

Then he'll have to go through me.

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A/N: Hello, everyone! I'm back! Sorry it's been so long since I updated this story, but I got some inspiration recently, so I decided to get back into this one. I've been able to plan out what I want to do with the rest of this story, and it should turn out really well once I get it done!

For anyone who's wondering, the reason Deucalion was able to access Storybrooke despite the curse not being broken yet is because, since he's a werewolf, his own semi-magical nature, combined with his power (since he's a very powerful Alpha) allowed him to get through the concealment spell around Storybrooke. Obviously, since he's a strong Alpha and Jackson's just an Omega, the power gap between them is pretty wide, as was demonstrated with their fight in this chapter.

Shoutouts to timijaf, RHatch89, willdawg992003, adrianawillstealurcookies, Tala White 14, Pellinore the Great, Sol Fox, TheGirlTried, WizardOfMusic, Plastic Cyborg, and bluestorm28 for reviewing; you guys are awesome!

As always, I greatly appreciate receiving feedback from readers, so if you've got any comments or questions regarding this chapter or the story as a whole, please review!

Next chapter, Jackson tries to help out with Mary Margaret's defense, and in a flashback, Frost, Snow and Red encounter a dark presence… stay tuned!

Review Q&A:

Q: another great chapter. cant wait till jackson finds out deucalion lost his pack in beacon hills haha

A: Yep, that'll be interesting! Although you'll notice Jackson didn't find out in this chapter, as he's more concerned with the immediate threat that Deucalion poses rather than who he really is or where he's from. He would definitely be intrigued if he found that out, though.

Q: I'm loving it and will any of the teen wolf people be visiting, like maybe Lydia, after the curse is broken and people can start coming into the town

A: Quite possibly! I can say that we'll definitely see more Teen Wolf characters before the end of this story.

Q: I love that you brought in Deucalion! Ugh, the puzzle pieces just fit so perfectly. I'm really excited to see what you have planned.

A: Yeah, I've always loved Deucalion's character, so I figured he would make an interesting antagonist for Jackson at this point in the story, particularly since I wanted to have a different villain to give Jackson something more interesting to do in the present-day storyline.

Q: Really enjoying the story! I'm keen to find out how Jackson lost his memories from the Enchanted Forest! Am I right in thinking Deucalion is able to see now, post-season 3A? Because if he is, why does he still have his cane? That's my only question from the story so far. Are you only going to do the flashbacks up to the end of season 1, or are you going to fit Jackson into the flashbacks from later seasons too?

A: Yes, how Jackson ended up in Beacon Hills is definitely something I'll be explaining before the end of this season. And yeah, Deucalion does have his sight back, as his eyes were fully healed at the end of Season 3A of Teen Wolf; I'd say he mainly just keeps his old cane around for nostalgia. Plus, he was actually able to use it as a weapon in that season, so it could be useful in that case as well.

As for flashbacks, I plan to do flashbacks in my coverage of later seasons too, whenever something significant happens involving Jackson's backstory, but I won't just be rehashing anything from the canon show.

Q: My main worry is that you will forget the effect adding a new character will do. The beginning should be close to the original story, but should deviate farther and farther away from the show's line as you progress. If you adhere to Once Upon a Time's plotline, then there isn't a point in rewriting all the scenes we already know from the show. (And I really hope that advice was annoying in the "I already knew that" way.)

A: Well, yeah, I do know that. Don't worry, I don't plan on just rehashing stuff from the show; that would be boring both for me to write and for you guys to read. For now, there aren't too many differences from canon (in the present-day plotline, anyway), but it is proceeding in a slow-burn fashion; the little differences are slowly building up, bit by bit. Within the next few chapters, we should be getting into more canon-divergent stuff, and by the time we reach the end of the first season, quite a bit of stuff will be different.