Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or Once Upon a Time.
Chapter 12: Light and Shadow
In the Enchanted Forest, many years ago…
Frost felt a chill run through his entire body, a creeping sensation as if the hair on the back of his neck was standing up on end. Pitch Black… He knew that name, he was certain of it, but for the life of him he could not remember from where.
"Pitch Black?" Snow spoke up, lacking his hesitance. "What kind of name is that?"
Pitch's smirk widened. "Well, it's not one that's particularly well-known, my lady. But I'm sure you've heard of my title in bedtime stories, if nothing else. Stories of a king with a crown of bones, leading an army of the damned as they ride skeleton horses through the night, stealing children's dreams as they sleep."
Snow stiffened, her eyes wide in horror. "The Nightmare King…" she breathed. "But… my mother always said that was just…"
"Just a story?" Pitch put in with a chuckle. "You would be surprised how many things we think are just stories, but are really the truth. Like Jack here." He smiled, indicating Frost. "Although, of course, he's not quite as famous as I am; he and his friends have always preferred to keep themselves out of the public eye, at least in this world."
"What are you talking about?" Frost demanded, stepping forward. Another twinge ran through his head, drawing a barely-concealed gasp of pain.
Pitch noticed it, of course. "Having trouble remembering, Jack?" he taunted. "Well, my apologies, but I can't have you regaining your memories, as that would make killing you more difficult." He smiled, spreading his arms as a gleaming black sword materialized in his outstretched right hand. "Well, it has been fun to see you again, old friend, but I believe our time is up. Little ones?" At his word, the three dark creatures rose to their feet, letting out a chorus of hisses as they moved to his side.
Pitch smiled, his dark eyes locking on Frost's. "Kill the others," he instructed calmly. "Leave him to me."
Red snarled, baring her teeth, while Snow readied her bow and Frost raised his staff in a defensive position.
The creatures let out identical screeches, their eyes and teeth flashing in the dark, and charged.
In Storybrooke…
Jackson followed Emma down the hospital hallway, towards the room where Kathryn was being cared for. They'd gotten a call from the hospital, informing them that she was awake, and Emma was eager to question her regarding her abduction.
"Emma, Jackson," Dr. Whale greeted them cheerfully as they entered Kathryn's room. "Come on in. Look who's awake!"
Sure enough, Kathryn was sitting up in bed; she nodded politely to Jackson, smiling at Emma.
"Kathryn, hi," Emma greeted her. "Listen, I don't want to take a lot of your time, but… do you remember what happened?"
The other woman considered for a moment, then shook her head. "I don't remember much. I know I was in a car accident, and I remember the airbag going off. But the next thing I knew, I was in the dark, in some basement. I didn't see anyone, but there was food and water down there, so I didn't go hungry. I was down there for a while, I don't know how long, and then…" She rubbed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger. "I guess I was drugged."
"Yeah," Whale confirmed. "We're still trying to flush that out of your system."
Kathryn nodded. "And then I woke up in a field at the edge of town, and I started walking. That was it."
"You didn't see anyone?" Emma pressed. "You didn't hear a voice? Smell perfume or cologne? Anything?"
"Nothing, no." Kathryn sighed. "I'm sorry, I wish I could be more help. Especially since…" She groaned, leaning back in bed. "While I was gone, you guys really thought I was dead?"
Emma nodded ruefully. "Your DNA matched the heart we found."
"They're grilling everybody down at the hospital lab to find out who doctored the DNA results," Whale put in.
Kathryn stared wide-eyed at them. "Why would anyone do this?"
"We're pretty sure someone was trying to frame Mary Margaret for your murder," Jackson answered.
The other woman stared at him, aghast. "But why? I mean, who would do something like that?"
Emma and Jackson exchanged glances. Both of them were thinking the same thing, but neither of them was going to say it in public, at least until they had proof.
Regina.
That night, Jackson found himself at Mary Margaret's apartment, along with Ruby, Emma, Henry, and numerous other citizens of Storybrooke. They'd all gathered for a welcome-home party to celebrate Mary Margaret's being proven innocent. Jackson still wasn't quite sure why he'd been invited, but he was never one to turn down a free evening at a party.
"All of these people…" Mary Margaret murmured to Jackson, Ruby and Emma, who had gathered on one side of the room. "Just to welcome me home?"
Emma smiled. "You've got a lot of friends."
Mary Margaret returned her smile, but it faded after a few moments, and she let out a sigh. "It didn't feel like that yesterday." She turned and walked off, going to pass out drinks to some new arrivals. Emma headed over to the bar to pour herself another one, leaving Jackson and Ruby alone.
As he sipped his drink, Jackson couldn't help noticing that Ruby seemed a little downcast. "Something wrong?" he inquired.
She sighed. "It's just… I feel bad for not believing Mary Margaret. About the whole David and Kathryn thing."
"Yeah, but pretty much nobody believed that," Jackson pointed out. "It's not like you were the only one; somebody did a damn good job of framing her."
"Emma believed her," Ruby pointed out. "Henry did. Hell, you did, and you've only known her for what, two weeks?" She winced. "No offense."
"None taken," Jackson replied with a grin.
"But I've known Mary Margaret for a lot longer than that; we've been best friends for years." Ruby frowned. "But I didn't believe her. And I can't understand why."
"Hey." Jackson took her hand reassuringly, a surprisingly genuine smile flickering across his lips. "Listen, Ruby, don't beat yourself up over this, okay? It'll just make you feel worse."
Ruby exhaled slowly. "You're right," she admitted. "I still think I should apologize, though." She looked across after Mary Margaret. "But… I don't know what to say."
"Well, I'm not usually in the habit of apologizing to people," Jackson remarked with a chuckle. "But I'm pretty sure if you start with 'I'm sorry', the rest of it won't matter." He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Go on."
Ruby nodded shakily, walking across the apartment. Jackson watched as she tapped Mary Margaret on the shoulder, exchanging a few hushed words, before the two embraced. Smiling, he leaned back against the wall, savoring his drink. There we go.
Some time later, the party was starting to die down. Ruby and Mary Margaret were seated on one of the couches, chatting, while Jackson had been discussing the Kathryn case with Emma.
"So what's next?" He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure pinning Regina for this is gonna be easy, considering how much power she has in this town."
Emma considered. "We should start with Sidney. I don't know what she has on him, but I'm positive she's the one who ordered him to spy on us. If I can get him to crack, we'll be off to a good start." She checked the time on her phone, then stood up from the couch, rolling her shoulders and calling to Henry. "Hey, Henry, we should get you home before your mom finds out you were out late. That wouldn't be pretty."
Henry grinned, nodding, and hurried over to Emma. "Right." He waved to Jackson, before following Emma to the front door. Jackson glanced after them just as Henry opened the door… showing David Nolan on the other side, one hand raised to knock. He pulled back abruptly, clearly surprised. "…Oh," he managed. "Hey, Henry. You guys leaving already?"
"Yep," Henry replied. "Gotta get home and do homework."
Emma leaned in closer to David, lowering her voice so only he could hear it, although Jackson's own hearing could, of course, pick it up easily. "Look, she's kind of tired. I think it might be better if you just gave it some time."
David sighed, looking down. "I just… I wanted to tell her that…"
"Hey, Henry?" Emma cut him off, turning to her son. "Why don't you head home with David?"
He shrugged. "Okay!"
"Sorry," she murmured to David, patting him briefly on the shoulder.
David nodded slowly. "It's fine." He turned, beckoning to Henry, who followed him out of the apartment. Emma closed the door behind them, turning around and slumping against the wall, exhaling slowly as she rubbed at her eyes.
"Everything all right?" Jackson inquired as he approached her.
Emma nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just figured she really wouldn't want to talk to him right now, after all the crap that she's been through."
"A thoughtful decision, Miss Swan," Mr. Gold remarked as he approached them. As he always did around this guy, Jackson felt uneasy as soon as the older man spoke. He still wasn't sure why, but something about Gold just rubbed him the wrong way.
Gold indicated the now-closed door. "Hard to let him go, isn't it?" he inquired. "Your son, I mean."
"Yeah," Emma admitted. "Pretty much the hardest thing." A moment later, she turned to face Gold. "Speaking of things we weren't talking about… was it you?"
Gold raised an eyebrow. "Was what me?"
"Did you make Kathryn suddenly materialize?" Emma's eyes narrowed. "Because it sure played that way to me. Was that the 'magic' you were going to work?" She took a deliberate step forward, eyes flashing in anger. "Because if you kidnapped that poor, innocent woman, just to let her go –"
Gold smiled, as if he'd found that suggestion amusing. "I'm sorry, Miss Swan; are you suggesting I'm working with Regina, or against her?"
"I don't know," she shot back. "Maybe diagonally."
Gold chuckled. "Well, you keep working on that one, then. I have a question about something else, actually." He turned, pointing across the room; Jackson followed his extended index finger, and his eyes fell upon August, who was seated on the other side of the room, sipping a drink. "What do you know about him?"
Emma frowned. "Goes by August. He's a writer. Typewriter wrapped in an enigma, wrapped in stubble." She turned back to Gold. "Why?"
"Because he was poking around my shop today," Gold answered. His eyes narrowed, focusing on August. "August Wayne Booth. Clearly a false name."
"And how would you know, Mr. Gold?" Jackson retorted sardonically. Come to think of it, does he even have a first name?
"I assure you, Mr. Whittemore," Gold replied calmly, "if there's one thing I know about, it's names." He glanced at Jackson as he said this, a sparkle of what seemed like amusement in his eyes.
"Writers go by pseudonyms," Emma put in. "What does it matter?"
Gold paused. "Do you trust him?"
"Yeah," she replied flatly. "A lot more than I trust you."
Jackson found himself glancing back over to August, remembering the strange look that the older man had given him outside the inn on the day when they'd found Kathryn. For some reason, he kept thinking about it; the expression the writer had given him had been very strange. It was almost like…
Like he knew me. Jackson's lip curled in a frown. But that doesn't make any sense; I've never met the guy before.
Now that he thought about it, though, there was something oddly familiar about the way August had looked at him; it was like he'd gotten the same look from someone else before. But for the life of him, he couldn't remember where.
In the Enchanted Forest…
The three creatures sprang, vicious snarls filling the air as they charged. Two of them leaped at Red, who was clearly the most dangerous of their three targets. She snarled in response, surging forward and tackling one of them out of the air, as the other landed on her back.
The third creature went for Snow, who ducked back, loosing her arrow. The shaft embedded itself in the creature's shoulder, but it barely broke stride, forcing her to dive out of the way. Notching another arrow, she fired as the creature turned, but this time her aim was off-target and the arrow missed. Cursing, she bolted towards the nearest house, while the creature darted after her with its jaws agape.
Frost, meanwhile, had his own problems. Pitch came at him like a whirlwind, slashing and jabbing with his black-bladed sword. Frost's staff was a blur as he blocked and parried, moving faster than he'd thought he could, but the Nightmare King was faster still, and it was everything he could do to avoid taking a fatal blow. One particularly well-aimed slash took a nick out of his pants, barely missing his upper leg; he whipped his staff up just in time to block Pitch's next swing, stopping the sword inches from his neck.
"Come on, Jack!" Pitch mocked, pushing inward, trying to break Frost's guard. "Fighting you used to be fun; where's that spirit I remember?!"
Frost let out a yell, releasing his staff with one hand and firing a blast of ice directly into Pitch's face, but the dark man recoiled with the same inhuman speed, bringing up an arm to shield his face. Pitch hissed in discomfort as the ice coated his forearm instead, but he waved his other hand and black smoke enveloped his frost-coated limb, dissipating moments later and evaporating the ice. "That's more like it," he remarked with a chuckle, stretching his arm. "But you'll have to do better."
Frost growled, spinning his staff, and launched himself back at the dark man. Wood clashed with gleaming dark metal again and again. Frost was amazed that the staff didn't break or even chip from clashing with Pitch's sword; whatever type of wood it was made from, it was certainly durable. Whenever Frost had an opening, he let fly with a burst of ice, but Pitch was expecting it now, and he was fast enough to evade Frost's attacks.
Damn it! Frost cursed inwardly, after another unsuccessful attack. I'd have to actually grab hold of him for my powers to work… but the way this is going, I'd never get close enough. He retreated, blocking several rapid slashes. But at this rate, he'll cut me to pieces anyway!
A shriek cut through the melee, and Frost glanced over to see Red and the other two creatures locked together in a clinch. Red had grabbed the first creature by the scruff of its neck and was refusing to let go, shaking it back and forth like a dog shaking a rat, despite the fact that it was raking its claws repeatedly across her head and shoulder. The second creature, having been tossed off her back, had just lunged back in, sinking its teeth into her left hind leg and biting down with all of its strength, its fangs sinking deep into her leg. Red let out a muffled howl of pain, but she refused to relent. Bearing down with all of her strength, she crushed the creature's windpipe and snapped its neck. Tossing its body away as it went limp and crumbled into black sand, she whirled on the second, shaking it off her leg. She let out a low, vicious snarl, before launching herself forward with all her remaining strength. She was larger and heavier than the creature, which worked to her advantage; the impact bowled it over, sending both of them tumbling away into the bushes in a burst of snarls and crashing brush.
"Don't turn your back on me!" came Pitch's hiss from behind. Frost's eyes widened in horror and he flung himself sideways, hearing the whistle as the dark sword whipped past him. The tip of the blade nicked the flesh of his neck, opening a shallow cut; he had avoided decapitation by a matter of inches. He whirled back to face Pitch, swinging his staff in an arc to clear some space between them, and followed it up with a blast of ice from his other hand. Before it could connect, however, Pitch's free hand snapped up, and he backhanded the icy blast aside with a burst of dark smoke. The combined explosion of magic enveloped a nearby tree trunk in black ice, but Pitch remained untouched.
Pitch smirked, lazily twirling his sword with one hand as a ball of concentrated dark flame materialized in his hand. "Let's see how you do against some of my old tricks, shall we?" he called out, tossing the fireball at Frost. Instinctively, Frost shoved his hand out, manifesting an opposing burst of ice. The two attacks collided midway between them and canceled out harmlessly in an explosion of steam. However, this had the unfortunate side effect of obscuring Frost's view of his enemy.
"Damn it!" he cursed. Swiping his hand through the air, he generated a burst of cold air that dissipated the steam, but Pitch had vanished. "Oh, not this again," he muttered, looking around warily.
"What's wrong, Jack?" the Nightmare King's voice echoed through the clearing, with a distinct note of amusement. "You used to love this one."
"Where the hell are you?!" Frost yelled. He caught a glimpse of a tall shadow gliding across a nearby tree and launched an icicle, but it embedded itself harmlessly in the tree trunk without hitting its target.
The only reply was Pitch's mocking laughter.
In Storybrooke…
Jackson was leaning against the wall outside Granny's, idly checking his phone as he waited for Emma. While he hadn't checked in with any of his friends in Beacon Hills since before leaving London, he did keep up on news feeds from back home, his way of keeping tabs on how things were going back home. Usually nothing out of the ordinary was happening, but this time he'd stumbled across something that caught his attention: a news article from several weeks earlier, which had escaped his notice until now.
Local Teacher Injured in Archery Accident!
Robert "Bobby" Finstock, a teacher and lacrosse coach at Beacon Hills High School, was admitted to Beacon Memorial Hospital today after sustaining a serious injury during a cross-country practice run. Investigators believe that, as he and his students were running along the course, Finstock accidentally triggered a trap left behind by a deer hunter, which shot an arrow into his abdomen. Fortunately, none of Finstock's internal organs were pierced; he required only minor surgery, and is expected to make a full recovery. The identity of the individual or individuals who set the trap remains unknown.
Jackson raised an eyebrow as he scrolled through the article. How about that? he observed with a wry grin. Figures Coach would get shot sooner or later, but I didn't think it would be an accident.
As he scrolled down to the bottom of the page, however, the title of another, more recent article caught his interest. Violent attacks throughout Beacon Hills, committed by multiple assailants dressed in black cloaks and carrying swords… possibly gang warfare or terrorism? He frowned, scrolling down and tapping on the article's heading. That's weird.
"Hey, Jackson!" Emma's voice cut through his focus on the phone as she climbed out of her car. She nodded towards the entrance of the diner. "He still in there?"
"Yep," Jackson replied, exiting out of the news site and pocketing his phone; he'd worry about that odd news report later. "Been there for half an hour, just nursing his drink." He grinned. "Ready to put him through the ringer?"
"Absolutely," Emma muttered. Without hesitation, she marched up the front steps and pushed open the door of the diner. Jackson followed, the two of them making a beeline for the corner table, where Sidney Glass was finishing off a mug of coffee. Bleary-eyed, he looked up as Emma sat down opposite him.
"Hey, Sidney," Emma greeted the reporter briskly.
"Emma, hey," Sidney replied with a friendly smile. He glanced up as Jackson leaned against the divider between booths, conveniently blocking the reporter's exit. "Ah… Mr. Whittemore."
"Mr. Glass," Jackson returned evenly, not really trying to keep his dislike of the reporter out of his voice.
Sidney nodded, somewhat nervously, as he turned back to Emma. "So, things certainly did work out, didn't they? For, ah… for your friend?"
"You told me you could help me with Mary Margaret." Emma's voice was flat. "And I wanted to believe you. But, eventually, there are things that even a blind Sheriff cannot ignore." She drew out the wiretapping device that they'd found in the flowerpot at the Sheriff's station and placed it on the table between them.
Sidney's eyes widened, almost imperceptibly, but enough that Jackson could easily realize he'd been caught off-guard. "Is…" He swallowed. "Is that a bug?"
"Oh, for God's sake, cut the crap, Sidney!" Emma snapped. "You fooled me, you spied on us, and you reported it all back to that sick, crazy woman. I can't even imagine what she has on you, but it must be something huge."
"She's a good mayor," Sidney argued.
"She tried to get Mary Margaret convicted of a murder that didn't even happen," Emma spat. "You're in a lot of trouble, Sidney. Both of you are. Because there is a DNA trail in the basement of some house out there, and I'm going to find it. And then she's going to go away."
Sidney sighed. "Maybe." He smiled faintly. "But I wouldn't bet against her. She's an amazing woman."
Jackson and Emma exchanged a glance, realization dawning in both their minds.
"Are you…" Emma's eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you in love with her?!"
Jackson scoffed. "Dude, that is seriously messed up. Even I wouldn't go there in a million years."
Emma waved him off. "Look… whatever. Here's the thing." She leaned forward, focusing a laser-like glare on Sidney. "Before you know it, I will have that evidence. So you need to think long and hard about this. You can either help me, and help yourself… or you're going to go down with her." With that, she stood up, snatching the bug off the table, and swept out of the room. Jackson followed her, shooting a last disdainful glance at the reporter.
"So what's next, boss?" Jackson inquired as he and Emma exited the diner.
"Next, we keep building the case against Regina," Emma answered. "Won't be easy, but I think finding out the truth about the DNA results from that heart, and who altered them, is a good place to start."
"Good idea." Jackson nodded. "Problem is, we need to find something specifically linked to Regina. I mean, obviously she told Glass to bug the sheriff's station, and had someone at the hospital fake those DNA results, but unless we can prove that whoever did it was acting on her orders, there's nothing we can do to her."
"Exactly." Emma sighed wearily. "I'll head back to the station, see if I can dig up anything else."
"Right. Let me know if you need any help. Otherwise, I'll be at the inn; I'm having dinner with Ruby later, so I'd better look my best." Jackson grinned, brushing a stray strand of hair back into place.
Emma smirked. "Right. Have fun, Romeo. But not too much; I need you at the station first thing tomorrow." With that, she turned and headed back to her car.
Tossing off a leisurely salute after her departing form, Jackson started back towards the inn. Halfway across the parking lot, however, he felt something catch his attention, and he turned to see August on the other side of the street, standing beside his motorcycle and staring straight back at him with an unreadable expression. Before Jackson could take more than a step towards him, however, the writer straddled his bike, lifted the kickstand, and revved the engine, roaring off down the street.
"The hell is that guy's problem?" Jackson muttered. Shrugging it off, he strolled back towards the inn.
In the Enchanted Forest…
Snow panted for breath, her heart pounding as she raced down a path between two houses, hearing the growls of the pursuing monster as it came pounding down the path after her. Her eyes flicked from side to side, attempting to find something, anything, that could get her out of reach of those murderous teeth.
Finally, as she rounded the corner of one house, she spotted a wooden ladder that had been leaned against the house, likely left there by someone who'd already been attacked by the creatures. Snow immediately took advantage of the opportunity, jumping onto the ladder and scrambling up it. She hauled herself up onto the roof, kicking away the ladder with a swing of her leg to leave no way for the creature to follow her.
Sure enough, the creature bounded around the same corner, letting out a low hiss when it spotted her on the roof. It prowled closer, pacing back and forth beneath her perch, its luminous orange eyes flashing in the darkness. Then, to her surprise, it backed away a few steps and shuddered, its body trembling. It flung its head back, letting out a screech, and reared back on its hind legs. Twin jets of what looked like black sand erupted from its back, swirling and expanding, until they coalesced into a pair of wings, leathery-skinned like those of a bat.
Snow's eyes widened in horror. "Oh, no," she breathed.
The creature didn't wait for her to react; it crouched and leaped into the air, its wings unfolding and blotting out the moon overhead as it loomed over the roof where she lay.
Fortunately, since Snow had already been holding her bow, she was prepared. Leaning back, she released the arrow without bothering to aim. Sure enough, the arrow buried itself in the creature's chest. It shrieked, falling onto the roof; Snow rolled to one side, barely avoiding being crushed. The creature thrashed and flailed, flipping over onto its back as it spasmed, and Snow seized her chance. Drawing her knife, she lunged in close and drove the knife hilt-deep into the creature's throat. Black, oily blood spurted from the wound, and the creature let out a strangled, gurgling screech. Its head fell back, the orange glow faded from its eyes, and it disintegrated into a pile of black sand.
Gasping for air, Snow clambered down, sliding down over the eaves of the house and dropping carefully to the ground. She landed hard, but rolled with the impact and clambered back to her feet, before running back towards where the others had been fighting.
In Storybrooke…
"So where do we go from here?" Jackson inquired as he followed Emma into the sheriff's station. "Any ideas on how we bust Regina?"
"I've been thinking about that," Emma replied. "I'd rather not ask Gold for anything else if I can help it, so I figure we'll go to the hospital first and see if we can figure out who falsified the DNA results. That'll take us one step closer to…" She trailed off as she opened the door to the main part of the Sheriff's station, coming to an abrupt halt. "Regina."
Sure enough, the Mayor of Storybrooke was standing in their office, leaning against the desk with her arms folded. "Congratulations, Sheriff Swan," she remarked with a nod to Emma and Jackson as they entered. "There's about to be a big break in your case; you've gotten yourself a confession."
Jackson raised an eyebrow. "Really," he deadpanned.
"Yes, Mr. Whittemore," Regina replied matter-of-factly. "But I'd like the two of you to listen to the whole explanation, so you can understand why this happened."
"Oh, I'll hang on every word you say," Emma retorted.
"Very well, then." Regina glanced over her shoulder, back towards the side office. "Sidney?" she called. "You can come in now."
Sure enough, the journalist entered the room, glancing nervously at Emma and Jackson.
"Tell them what you told me," Regina instructed.
Sidney nodded slowly. "It was me," he said quietly. "I confess. I abducted Kathryn, and I hid her in the basement of an abandoned summer home by the lake. I bribed a lab tech to get me the heart from the hospital, and I used that same person to doctor the lab results."
"And the other thing?" Regina prompted.
Sidney swallowed. "I… I borrowed some skeleton keys from Regina and… planted the knife in your apartment."
"My keys." Regina folded her arms, shooting a scornful glance at the journalist. "Can't help but feel personally violated by that part."
Jackson rolled his eyes. He didn't even need to have werewolf senses to tell that Sidney was lying his ass off, and a glance at Emma was all it took to know that she could tell just as well as he could.
"And I'm supposed to believe this… why, exactly?" Emma inquired, mirroring Jackson's thoughts.
"I was going to find her after the conviction; be a hero." Sidney let out a sigh. "Then I'd get the inside track on the biggest story to ever hit this town. I'd get my job back, plus a novel, maybe a movie, and…" He lowered his head. "I don't know. It sounds crazy now."
"Pretty crazy, yeah," Emma remarked. "But false? Yeah. False as hell."
"I have maps to where the house is," Sidney continued. "You'll find chains in the basement. Lots of fingerprints, I'm sure – hers and mine. But I didn't hurt her."
"The man has obviously suffered some kind of mental breakdown," Regina added. "He clearly hasn't been himself for a while."
"That's true," Emma retorted sardonically. "It's almost like his words aren't his at all."
Regina rolled her eyes. "Wow. You are so sold on your own rush to judgment that you can't even see the truth anymore, can you?"
"A word in the hallway, please?" Emma snapped, fixing a glare on Regina. She glanced to Jackson, who nodded subtly, showing that he agreed with her thought process, before leading Regina out of the office. Jackson immediately strained his ears to detect what they were saying, as he had no intention of being left out of the loop.
"Well, that's the biggest load of crap I've ever heard," Emma spat.
"I'm pretty sure that's not true," Regina replied coolly.
Emma sighed. "That poor man," she said, almost sadly, before her voice hardened. "I know you're behind all this. Kathryn's abduction, the faked murder, Mary Margaret's biased treatment, Sidney's 'confession', all of it. And I understand that you own this game, and that you've set the board so that no one else can win." She paused. "Which is why I'm about to start playing a whole different game. I don't care what happens to you, or to me. All I care about is what happens to my kid. And from now on, you are going to leave him alone."
Regina was silent for a moment; maybe Emma had actually caught her off guard with that one. "Am I?" she said quietly.
"Uh-uh, I'm talking," Emma spat. "You're a sociopath, lady. You tried to take away someone that I love. And now I'm going to return the favor." Her voice was flat; it was a statement of fact, not an empty threat. "I am taking back my son."
Jackson was surprised for a moment. Then his lip curled in a smirk. Not bad, Emma. Not bad at all.
In the Enchanted Forest…
Frost stood in the center of the clearing, his eyes flicking around as he tried to find some trace of Pitch. "Come out and face me, you coward!" he yelled, twirling his staff. He could still hear the snarls and crashes in the brush from where Red was fighting the last creature. Making an abrupt decision, he started towards the source of the noises; if Pitch wasn't going to show himself, he might as well go help the others.
It was at that precise moment, as he turned to run for the trees, that the attack came. Frost felt a whisper of wind approaching on his right, and turned his head just in time to see the black sword materialize out of the shadows, swinging for his unprotected side as Pitch blurred back into existence in mid-strike.
With no time to respond, Frost flicked his staff up in a desperate block. It was just enough to avoid being cut in half, but the blade still sliced across his side, cutting through his jacket and into flesh with a sickening jolt of agony. Frost screamed in pain, tumbling to the ground as his entire right side exploded in pain.
Pitch laughed, flourishing his sword as he examined the blood staining the gleaming dark blade. "So sad," he mocked, smirking cruelly as he stood over Frost. "You used to be an interesting opponent, and now look at you."
"Damn… you…" Frost breathed, clutching at the gash on his side. He was feeling light-headed, and an alarming amount of blood was already soaking into his shirt.
"Frost!" a familiar voice screamed; he lifted his head to see Snow sprinting out of the village. Her eyes widened in horror when she saw him on the ground, and she notched an arrow, firing it straight at Pitch. Before it could hit, however, Pitch whipped around, his free hand snaking up and snatching the arrow out of the air, catching it inches from his face. He smirked, tossing the arrow away over his shoulder, but it had given Snow enough time to reach Frost.
A moment later, a snarl echoed through the trees, and Red emerged from the bushes. She had clearly won the fight, but she was limping badly on her left hind leg, and there was blood – both red and black – matted in her fur.
Despite the fact that all three of his creatures had fallen, Pitch seemed totally unworried. He chuckled softly, holding his sword casually at his side. "Well, this has been fun, but I'm afraid we're out of time." He raised his free hand to the sky and clenched his fist, sending out a pulse of dark energy that rippled through the air. "Come to me, my pets," he murmured, his voice carrying the strange, echoing quality from before. "It's time to end this."
And they came. Dozens of the creatures, the rest of the swarm that had attacked the village, materialized around them. Some swooped down from overhead on their batlike wings, landing on the roofs of houses or perching on tree branches, while others emerged from the shadows, slinking forward with eyes glowing and fangs bared. Within seconds, Frost, Snow and Red were completely surrounded.
"Frost?" Snow breathed, trembling. "What do we do?"
Fighting against the waves of sickening pain, Frost forced himself to stand back up, leaning on his staff while he pressed one hand against his wound.
"Don't worry, Jack." Pitch called, his dark eyes alight with amusement. "I'll be sure to tell your friends that you died well."
Frost blinked, looking up in confusion. "What?" he asked. "My… my friends? What are you talking about?"
Pitch's only reply was a cold smirk. "Kill them," he ordered.
The creatures surged forward, a chorus of snarls filling the air… but before they could reach the trio, something odd happened. There was a brilliant flash of light, and a cloud of glowing blue smoke swirled up around Frost, Snow, and Red, enveloping them within seconds.
Pitch's face twisted in anger. "No!" he roared.
And then it felt as if a trapdoor had swung open beneath Frost, and the world dropped away as he fell into darkness.
In Storybrooke…
Jackson sat in his room at the inn, gazing out the window as he contemplated recent events. While Sidney was taking the fall for Kathryn's abduction, as it was likely that he had actually been the one to carry out the crime (albeit under Regina's orders), the mayor herself had once again avoided being charged. Emma's unexpected change of plans, however, should make things much more interesting going forward.
As he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, three soft knocks echoed through the room. Jackson sighed, sitting up and walking over to the door. "All right, who the hell is it this time?" he muttered, opening the door. He was taken off-guard, however, to see August standing outside, holding a large book.
"Uh… hi?" Jackson spoke up in confusion. "What're you doing here?"
"Looking for you," August replied. "We need to talk." He looked past Jackson, verifying that the room was empty. "Ah… can I come in?"
Jackson raised an eyebrow. "…Sure." He stepped back, letting the writer duck inside, and closed the door behind him. He wasn't particularly worried, as there was very little August could do to him, so he might as well listen to what he had to say. At the very least, he might be able to get some answers as to why the guy had been acting so weird.
As soon as the door was closed, August rounded on Jackson. "Where the hell have you been, Jack?!" he demanded. "You said you'd be waiting for us when we first got here, but you never showed up! I spent years looking for you, hoping you could help me locate Emma, but I could never find you!"
Jackson frowned, taken aback. "Okay, first of all, my name's Jackson, not Jack. And secondly, what the hell are you talking about? I'm not exactly unaccustomed to pissing people off, but I don't think I've ever done anything to you."
August was brought up short, looking at Jackson in a puzzled manner. Then he seemed to realize something, and he clapped a hand to his forehead. "Oh, that's right, you wouldn't recognize me. After all, I was only a kid the last time you saw me, although that was twenty-eight years ago. You should remember, though; you babysat me sometimes while my dad was building the wardrobe for Snow and Charming. You know, little boy, about this tall –" he indicated a short distance from the floor "– used to wear a red hat all the time?" He grinned conspiratorially. "It's okay. I know who you really are – I mean, come on, you look exactly the same – so you don't have to keep up the disguise with me."
At this point, it was quickly becoming clear to Jackson that there was something seriously wrong with this guy. I should tell Emma, he decided. If August was really this unstable, she would probably have a better idea of what to do with him.
"Look, man…" He sighed. "I've had a long day, and I really don't have the patience for whatever this is right now. Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying. So can you just go, please?"
"I…" For a moment, August looked even more confused than he had before. Then, slowly, a look of dawning horror began to creep across his face. "You seriously don't know who I am?"
"Should I?" Jackson returned. "But to make it clear: no, I have no idea who you are. Before Emma introduced us a few days ago, I had never seen or heard of you before in my life."
The writer ran a hand over his face. "Okay, look, this is going to sound weird, but… what's your name? Your full name?"
Jackson frowned. "O…kay, I'll humor you. My name's Jackson Whittemore. I'm from California, recently moved to London, and then to here."
"But…" August stopped short, sighing. "Ah, damn it, you're cursed too." He paused, then looked at Jackson in confusion. "Wait… this doesn't make any sense! You left our realm before the curse hit, said you were coming here to wait for us on this side. When I saw you with Emma outside Granny's, I assumed you'd finally found us and that you were going to help her believe. But how… how are you cursed too? Were you still on our side when it hit?"
The situation wasn't becoming any clearer for Jackson. One recurring element of August's confused rambling, however, did remind him of something. "Cursed?" he questioned skeptically. "You mean, like that evil magic curse that Emma's kid Henry keeps talking about?"
"Right!" August nodded. "So you know about it?"
"Know about it? The kid never shuts up about those damn stories of his; of course I know." Jackson raised an eyebrow. "Hang on… don't tell me you actually believe that crap? That all the people in this town are really fairy-tale characters from some magical world?"
August sighed. "Yes, I do. Because they are."
"Bullshit," Jackson retorted. "I've seen and heard of a lot of weird things in my life, but other worlds? Fairy tales come to life? Magic?" He shook his head. "Not a chance." Turning his back on August, he walked back over to the table, where he'd left his phone. "Now, if you don't mind, I have some business to take care of." Like calling Emma so she can lock your crazy ass up, he thought.
"Look, will you just listen to me for a second?" August pressed. "It's important! Emma hasn't started believing yet, and I don't have much time left! I need your help, Jack –"
"Oh, for God's sake, my name is not Jack!" Jackson yelled, whirling on August with a momentary surge of anger that would have had him sprouting claws and fangs if it had been any worse. "Why do people in this damn town keep acting like this?!"
August flinched, clearly taken aback. "Like what?"
"Like you already know me!" Jackson snapped. "Because you don't, none of you do, and it's starting to get really –"
And then he stopped, realizing what he'd just said. Wait… what?
That was when a sudden spike of pain drove its way into his mind, and he gasped, doubling over and clutching at the sides of his head, as images flooded into his brain.
Mr. Gold's eyes widened as Jackson turned around, as if he was extremely surprised to see him, but he regained his composure almost immediately. "And who might you be?"
"Just out of curiosity… do you think I'm a character from one of those fairy tales?"
Henry shook his head. "No; if you were, you would have already been living in Storybrooke." His eyes narrowed. "Although, you do look familiar, now that I'm thinking about it…"
"And who is this?" Regina asked. As Henry hopped down from the stool, giving her a clear view of Jackson, her eyes widened in shock for a split second, before returning to her previous calm appearance…
"Hey!" Jackson yelled, drawing Jefferson's attention.
The other man turned, a confused expression appearing as he stared wide-eyed at Jackson. "Jack?" he asked, frowning…
"I don't think we've met, by the way. I'm August."
"Jackson." He looked up and shook August's hand, noting a sudden flash of surprise in the man's eyes, mixed with something that almost looked like… recognition?
"Jackson!" August called, grasping him by the shoulder and snapping him out of the sudden flash of pain. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Jackson snapped, shaking the older man's hand off. Turning away from August, he rested a hand on the wall and glared out the window at the darkened treeline. His hands were trembling, and there was a dull, throbbing pain in his head.
"No, you're not." August's voice was quiet, but there was a note of something like triumph. "You're starting to remember, aren't you?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Jackson muttered, rubbing his temples to try and ease the headache.
"No, you don't," August admitted. "But you will, soon." He set the book he'd been carrying down on the bed. "Look, will you get that back to Henry for me? He let me borrow it for a while, but I think it might do more good with you. If you're really not from Storybrooke like everyone else here, then the curse might have affected you differently. So reading this might help you."
"Wait, what?" Jackson turned, seeing that the book was, indeed, Henry's Once Upon a Time book of fairy tales, the thing that had probably inspired the kid's interest in this curse theory of his. "And what exactly am I supposed to do with that?"
"Read it," August advised, as he headed for the door. "Look for your story. It might help you remember." He looked back as he opened the door, flashing Jackson a wry grin. "And it's not a bad read anyway." With that, he exited the room, closing the door behind him.
Jackson was left staring after him for a long moment. "What the hell was all that about?" he muttered.
In the Enchanted Forest…
When Frost opened his eyes, he was pleasantly surprised to find that he wasn't dead. Instead, he was lying sprawled on the ground, staring up at the moonlit night sky. Snow and Red, still in wolf form, were lying on either side of him. As he sat up, he realized that they were no longer in the forest clearing where they'd been moments before; instead, the three of them were in an open, grassy meadow. Pitch, the army of monsters, and the village were nowhere to be seen.
"Frost?" Snow murmured, standing up and looking around warily. "What just happened?"
"I have no idea," Frost muttered. He winced as he felt another throbbing surge of pain in his side, and sank back to the ground. "Red?" he asked, looking over at the wolf. "Are you all right?"
Red let out a weak growl, her head low. She had remained lying down, unable to put weight on her injured hind leg.
"Snow?" a soft female voice spoke up, as a flare of softly-glowing blue light appeared overhead. "Are you hurt, child?"
Snow's eyes widened. "I know that voice!" she exclaimed.
A small figure descended from overhead; a tiny woman, only the size of a small bird. She wore a sparkling blue dress, carried a small wand in one hand, and had a set of insect-like wings that fluttered behind her.
"The Blue Fairy," Snow murmured with a smile. "It's so good to see you!"
"Yes, my dear," the fairy replied with a smile. "It's good to see you too, Snow." She looked to Frost and Red, and her eyes widened in sympathy. "Here, let me tend to your injuries." She waved her wand in an arc, and Frost felt a wave of warmth run through his body. The pain of his injuries, particularly the cut on his neck and the gash on his side, melted away, and he pulled up his shirt to see that the deep cut on his side had healed completely.
"Thank you," Frost breathed, rubbing the now-smooth skin of his stomach wonderingly. He hopped to his feet and looked over at Red to see that her injuries had similarly healed, as she could now stand up properly.
"I also retrieved this from where your friend left it," the fairy added. She waved her wand again, and Red's cloak and hood materialized in a puff of blue smoke. "I assumed she would have need of it."
"Thank you!" Frost snatched up the cloak and swung it over Red, watching as the wolf form melted away in a flash of red light; moments later, she sat up, human again. "Are you okay?" he asked anxiously, crouching down next to her.
"I'm fine," Red replied with a smile. She shivered. "What was that thing?"
"I…" Frost sighed. "I don't know. But it was like he knew me, somehow." He kept calling me… Jack, was it?
"Pitch Black," the Blue Fairy intoned quietly. "An ancient demon, and one that has grown stronger of late. He and his Nightmares prey on the dreams of mortals, spreading fear throughout the world to increase their own power." She turned to Frost, a puzzled frown forming. "But I am not sure why he would be so interested in you."
"Well…" Frost considered. "He said he was the one who took my memories away. And ever since I saw him, I've been getting these flashes: images, sensations." He rubbed his temples. "Damn it, I wish I could remember!"
"Your memories?" the Blue Fairy inquired. "That's odd; I haven't heard of Pitch doing something like that before."
Snow spoke up. "Blue, is there anything you could do to help Frost? Could you help him get his memories back?"
"I'm not sure, but I can certainly try," the fairy replied with a smile. "Come here, child. Let me see what I can do to help." She beckoned to Frost, who stepped reluctantly forward, and circled her wand above his head. The wand emitted a soft blue glow, and she gently tapped it against the top of his head.
"Ah!" Frost gasped in pain as a sudden flash of light emanated from the point of contact, and he stumbled backwards, rubbing his head.
The Blue Fairy nodded. "Well, fortunately, Pitch did not actually remove your memories; they're still there, but the spell he cast on you has created a mental block that has suppressed them." Inclining her head, she sighed. "But, as I feared, I cannot retrieve them myself. While I do have strong magic, the spell that Pitch used to suppress your memories was a dark and potent one, and it is beyond my power to break it." She considered for a moment, turning her wand over in her hands, before a thought came to her. "However, I do know someone who has much more skill and experience with this sort of thing than I do. Perhaps she could help you."
"Who?" Frost asked eagerly. Who it was didn't really matter to him, as long as they could really help get his memories back. Considering what Pitch had said about his past, and the link between them, remembering who he really was had become of great importance to him.
"Lady Toothiana, an ancient and powerful fairy," Blue explained. "She has tremendously strong magic, so much so that it's said she can cross the boundaries between worlds through her own power alone. And she's supposedly an expert on reading and manipulating people's memories, so I'm certain she can break through the mental block Pitch has placed upon you."
Frost nodded. "All right, then. Can you take us to her?"
"Of course!" Blue smiled. "I would be happy to. But I think the three of you should get some rest first, as I'm sure you're all tired."
"She's not wrong," Snow spoke up with a weary smile. "I feel like I could sleep for a week."
"Stay here and rest for the day," Blue advised them. "At sunset tomorrow, I will return, and we can set off for Toothiana's home."
"Sounds good to me." Frost smiled. "Thank you for helping us."
"It's the least I can do." Blue smiled. "I'll see you all soon. Get some rest; you may need it." With that, she took off again, her wings whirring as she flew up and away, vanishing into the darkened sky with a final flicker of blue light.
In Storybrooke…
The pain in Jackson's head had eventually faded away; a cold drink of water had helped with that. Now he was sitting in bed, looking up at the ceiling. He wanted to sleep, but his mind refused to shut down, turning everything August had said over and over.
After about twenty minutes of this, Jackson had had enough. "Oh, screw it," he muttered. "I might as well take a look at the damn thing and see what all the fuss is about." Sitting up, he hopped off the bed and retrieved Henry's book from where he'd left it on the table, before returning to bed. Leaning back against the pillows, he opened the book and started reading.
"'Once upon a time…'" He snorted. "God, that's such a cliché."
Over the next two hours, Jackson read through some of the many stories contained within the book. He read through the tales of Snow White and Prince Charming; of Cinderella and the Evil Queen (who, he had to admit, did strongly remind him of Regina); of Pinocchio (which, oddly, seemed to be missing the ending of the story); of Belle and the Mad Hatter; and of the magical trickster Rumplestiltskin (who seemed to keep popping up in story after story).
"Well, these are definitely more entertaining than the Disney movies," Jackson remarked dryly as he finished yet another chapter, "but this is getting really…" He trailed off, examining the next story's title with interest. "…complicated," he murmured.
In swirling cursive letters, the title read: Jack Frost, the Spirit of Winter.
"Huh." Mildly intrigued, Jackson turned the page… and froze, staring wide-eyed at the book. His heart was pounding, and he felt another prickling sensation of pain in his head, but he couldn't take his eyes off the page. Because what he saw there wasn't possible.
The next page featured a full-color illustration of the chapter's title character, Jack Frost. The guy didn't look particularly remarkable: a rather handsome young man dressed in a light blue shirt, a brown jacket and brown pants, carrying a wooden staff that was curved at one end like a cane. His other hand was held out, palm-up, with a flurry of snowflakes emerging from his glowing palm. But that wasn't the part that had captured Jackson's attention.
It was the fact that the man in the book had his face.
There was no mistaking it. This wasn't just a similar hairstyle, nose, or facial expression. The man in the illustration looked exactly like Jackson; the same prominent cheekbones, the same confident smirk, the same spiked-up hairstyle, and the same bright blue eyes. The only difference Jackson could see was that the guy in the illustration had pure-white hair, the same color as snow, while Jackson's own hair was a darker shade of blonde. Other than that, they could have been twins.
"What the hell?" Jackson breathed, brushing his fingers over the drawing. He could hardly believe what he was seeing, but there it was, right before his eyes.
And now that he thought about it, flipping through the book again and looking at the characters in the illustrations with new eyes, he realized that a lot of them did, in fact, bear a remarkable resemblance to real, living people that he had met in Storybrooke. Snow White looked very much like Mary Margaret, although the woman in the storybook dressed very differently and had much longer hair. Prince Charming, once one looked past all of the fancy outfits he wore, looked a lot like David Nolan. Little Red Riding Hood and Cinderella were near-perfect matches for Ruby and her friend Ashley. And the Evil Queen did, in fact, closely resemble Regina.
How did I not notice this before now?! Jackson was aware that he was gawking at the book like an idiot, but he couldn't help it. Did this mean… No, it couldn't be possible, right? But he couldn't help thinking about something else: the way in which he had arrived in Storybrooke in the first place. The way he'd suddenly decided to leave London, choosing to explore this seemingly-random part of the northeastern United States instead of heading back home to Beacon Hills, stumbling across this town when the only other people who'd done so in recent memory – Emma and August – were both seemingly involved with the town itself… it seemed to be almost too lucky to be a coincidence.
Was Henry's crazy story – a magical curse, affecting all the residents of Storybrooke – actually true?
At that moment, just as Jackson was trying to figure out what to do about this, the sharp chime of his cell phone's ringtone echoed through the room. Shaking off the daze that had gripped him, he snatched his phone off the bedside table and opened it without bothering to check the caller ID. "Hello?" he answered.
"Jackson?" The voice, a familiar one, paused. "Hey, um… it's Danny."
That voice, the voice of his best friend from back home, brought Jackson up short, immediately seizing his attention. "Danny?" His eyes widened in surprise, and he grinned. "Well, it's about time! How's it going, man?"
"I'm… I'm okay, thanks." Danny was silent for a moment. "I, uh… I was actually calling to see if you were planning on coming back to Beacon Hills any time soon."
"What?" Jackson frowned. "Dude, what are you talking about? Why would I want to come back to Beacon Hills?" He groaned, rubbing his forehead as his headache flared up again. "Look, what's this about? Just spit it out already; I haven't got all night."
"Just shut up and listen, will you?" Danny snapped, in an uncharacteristically-forceful tone. That surprised Jackson; he wasn't used to his normally-relaxed friend behaving like that.
"Right… okay. Sorry." Jackson exhaled slowly. "Continue, please."
Danny sighed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just… there's been a lot of bad stuff going on here lately. First a bunch of people got murdered a couple months back, then there was a bomb threat at the high school a few weeks ago, and then there were… the attacks this past week."
"Oh, right, I saw something about that on the news yesterday," Jackson replied. "Some kind of gang violence or something, right?"
"That's what the news is saying, yeah," Danny replied. "A bunch of guys in black, with swords and weird metal masks. They tore up a bunch of places all over town: the hospital, the high school, even the police station. A lot of people got hurt, and some…" He inhaled heavily. "Some people were killed. My boyfriend's brother was one of them."
Jackson's eyes widened in shock. "Oh, man… I'm sorry. Are you okay?" Normally, he didn't show sympathy like this, but Danny was one of the people who had always earned that sort of emotional support from him.
"…Yeah, I'm all right. Ethan's really hurting, though; he and his brother spent their whole lives together, and now he's alone. I'm doing what I can to help, but…" Danny sighed. "But… that's not why I called. They're having a memorial service at the school next week, for everyone who died during the attacks. And I figured you'd want to be there."
That struck Jackson as odd. "Why's that? I mean, if you need me there for support or whatever, then sure, I can try to get there. But I'm not sure how much I can do."
"Thanks, but… that's not it." Danny was silent for a long moment. "The reason I think you should come is because you and I both knew some of the people who died. One of them in particular."
Jackson stiffened. He could feel the gravity of Danny's speech, and he knew that this was serious. Someone who he and Danny both knew, someone important to him, was dead. The first option that fit that description hit him like a train, and he froze, feeling a chill of terror rush through him.
"No," he whispered. "Danny, please, please, tell me it's not Lydia. Is she okay? What happened?"
"No, no, it's not Lydia," Danny answered immediately, recognizing the rising panic in his friend's voice and trying to calm him down. "She's okay; she's had her own problems to deal with lately, but she's all right. But…" He paused, leaving Jackson in a tense silence, and then resumed, "But Lydia… she's actually one of the reasons I called you. She was there for you when all that crap was happening to you last year, so I think you should be here for her now."
"Why?" Jackson felt that sinking feeling again. "If it's not Lydia, then… who is it?"
Danny was silent for a long moment, as if he was trying to bring himself to speak. Then, finally, his voice echoed over the phone, quiet and subdued. "It's Allison, Jackson. She's dead."
A/N: And here we are again!
So, as the ending of this chapter indicates, this story has been taking place parallel to Season 3B of Teen Wolf, and we've now reached the end of the Season 3B plotline in Beacon Hills. I always wondered what Jackson's reaction would have been to the events of Season 3, specifically Scott's ascension to Alpha status and, as shown here, Allison's death, so I decided to explore that in this story. I also needed a reason to finally bring in the rest of the Beacon Hills cast into this story, which will be happening starting next chapter, as Jackson goes home to attend the memorial for Allison, Aiden, and the others who died during the events of Season 3B.
Shoutouts to RHatch89, willdawg992003, N. A. Wennerholm, timijaf, ARSLOTHES, KaiKai98, and BlueKiwiTikii for reviewing; you guys are awesome!
Next time, Jackson decides to go home to Beacon Hills, Frost and his companions start their quest to recover his memories, and Deucalion makes his presence known in Storybrooke… stay tuned!
Review Q&A:
Q: Will we see the rest of the guardians like Santa and Easter and Tooth Fairy, even if it's only in a flashback?
A: We may see the other Guardians at some point, yes, although I'll be changing their origins a bit in keeping with Once canon. In fact, I may have hinted at one of them in this chapter…
Q: It would be something if Jackson did call in for help. And since this is an AU crossover maybe a member of the pack or a powerful ally can come to Storybrooke to help. And maybe a Hellhound such as Jordan can be loaned to deal with Deucalion and the corrupt Evil Queen and any other threats to the area.
A: Well, we will definitely be seeing some other Teen Wolf characters in the near future, especially as of this chapter. However, since we're just at the end of 3B's timeline here, we will not be seeing any characters from Season 4 onwards at this point in the story (so no hellhounds just yet).
