A/N

Hey guys, thanks so much for reading, and for the fantastic reviews! So, as you know, this story is partly a continuation of The Ultimate Battle of Wits, which is unfinished. My plan for the end of the story was that Kai doesn't die, and the heretics never get released, i.e. season 7, and what happens to Elena, doesn't happen. This story won't work with the tvd plot, though, just the characters, so if you don't know the plot, that's okay. As always, review, check out my other stories, and enjoy!

Ch. 4

Traveling Riverside Blues

Kevin woke up on a sofa with sunlight pouring into his eyes. He squinted against the harsh light before sitting up, hazily taking in his surroundings. He wasn't at home, he wasn't in the bunker... He was in a small living room, with unassuming furniture and crisp, white walls. Said walls were adorned with large windows that gladly let in sunlight, and with this light, Kevin was able to make out an adjoining kitchen, a hallway, a staircase, a front door, and someone less than five feet away from him staring at him intently.

"Ah!" Kevin yelped, stumbling back into the sofa. Danny lept too, nearly knocking over the coffee table.

"Sorry!" Danny said, wringing his hands in agitation. "Sorry, I wanted to see if you were up! Ethan was going to make breakfast, and I figured you'd want some!"

"No, no, it's fine." Kevin said with a wave. "Sorry, I shouldn't have freaked out. It's just been a stressful few days, that's all."

"Man, I can't even imagine!" Danny said sympathetically. "Dean terrified me when we were on the same side! I didn't even interact with him that much, and I wanted to run scared. If he's a demon now... Stiles told me about Alexander. I can't think of what Dean will do."

"You're right." Kevin said. "You can't imagine. Alexander was like... well, he was like Peter Hale. Not very deadly, easy to subdue once they found him. Dean is like the alpha pack. No, he's like the alpha pack rolled up into one person. Ok, so he's like Deucalion. Or if Deucalion were on steroids. And immortal. And immune to mountain ash. And hanging out with the King of Hell. And-"

"Kevin." Danny interrupted, concerned. "I got it. But don't worry. This house has iron fixtures, and salt embedded into all of the floorboards. He can't get in here."

"Stiles' house has that." Kevin said, concerned. "Plus a key of Solomon on the ceiling of every room. Dean got in there just fine."

A look of worry flashed across Danny's face, but it was so brief, Kevin might have imagined it.

"It doesn't matter." Danny said firmly. "You were right to come here."

"You and Ethan hardly know me." Kevin mumbled. "And you're letting me crash knowing the most dangerous demon ever is chasing after me."

"I don't need to know you." Danny said. "I fought with you. We took down the Dred Doctors together. That's a better judge of character than I'll ever get from 'knowing you'. Plus, any friend of Stiles is a friend of mine. The guy's saved my life more times than I know about, the least I can do is give his roommate a place to stay."

Kevin smiled. "Thanks, Danny."

"Breakfast!" Ethan called from the kitchen. Naturally, he wasn't wearing a shirt.

Lydia woke up to the same sun as Kevin, but in a different timezone. And instead of her eyes drifting lazily open, she was jolted awake by the shrill noise of a screaming teenage girl.

"CLAIRE!"

The scream was so loud and so high, it nearly created a sonic boom, and if Lydia listened closely, she could hear glass breaking from its pitch. With a sigh, Lydia rolled out of bed, dressed quickly, and went to investigate the noise. Exiting her guest room, she was met in the hallway with the sight of a tall girl with long, if frazzled, brown hair, shaking a curling iron angrily at a cowering blond and surly girl.

"How many times," the brown-haired girl muttered threateningly, "have I told you not to take my stuff? Now I know you've taken my conditioner, and you'd better give it back, because, if you don't, my hair won't dry properly. And then it'll be a mess, and it won't curl-

"And then you won't look good for your date tonight?" The blond girl simpered, with way too much sass.

"YES!" The brown-haired girl shouted exasperatedly. "Because I have a boyfriend, and I'm trying to be normal, and normal people freak out when their hair doesn't curl properly! So can you please just give it back?"

Blondie crossed her arms and opened her mouth, looking 100% ready to give some smart remark, but then her eyes landed on Lydia, and her face fell. The brunette whirled, and her anger positively wilted.

"Oh-" Alex- Alex, that's what her name is!- said, looking embarrassed. "Sorry, Lydia. I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's alright." Lydia said. Her eyes flashed from the disgruntled blondie- Claire- to Alex, to Alex's frizzy hair, and an idea sparked in her mind. "I don't mind, I like waking up early. I also like doing people's hair. If you want, I can fix yours?"

Claire rolled her eyes in disgust, but Alex looked positively joyful. She thrust her curling iron at Lydia with a barely contained squeal.

Scott, unlike Lydia and Kevin, hadn't slept that night, at all. Even if he could have, his dreams would have been haunted by Dean with his black eyes, by Stiles being flung from his own kitchen, by Scott unable to save him. No, it was for the best that Scott didn't sleep, hands clenched around his steering wheel, a hair away from tearing the whole damn thing off, his eyes glued to the highway as he sped past state after state for 15 straight hours... No, this was better. It was seven a.m. when Scott pulled into his destination, a town he had been to only once, visiting someone he had only met once, and driven across the country with. The sun had barely risen when Scott exited his car and walked up the brick pathway, and rang the doorbell like Stiles had done so long ago.

But he didn't know that story. Not yet. '

For Scott, this wasn't the same place Stiles had stood, sweating furiously, as he anxiously awaited to reveal to two vampires that he was a hunter, and he was hunting them. For Scott, this brick was brand new, and face that opened the door to him wasn't centuries old, but months.

"Scott McCall." Damon Salvatore said as he opened the door a little wider. "Well, this certainly is a surprise."

"Damon." Scott said, remembering their anxiety-inducing odyssey in Stiles' jeep, and the madness in New Orleans that followed suit. "I'm sorry to turn up all of the sudden but... I kind of need your help."

"Well what can I say?" Damon drawled. "When I said 'swing by for a drink sometime,' I meant it." Without another word, Damon turned on his heel and walked into the rich interior of his house, leaving Scott to shuffle in awkwardly after him. Scott caught up to Damon at a small wooden table holding several glass vials, where Damon was pouring amber liquid into two glass tumblers.

"Oh, uh," Scott said when one of the tumblers was shoved rather aggressively under his nose, "thanks, but alcohol doesn't really affect me, and anyway, I'm under 21..." he trailed off, handing the glass back to Damon. Instead of looking offended, Damon merely shrugged, and knocked back both his and Scott's drinks with terrifying speed.

"So," Damon continued, walking to the living room, gesturing for Scott to sit on one of the couches, which he did, slowly. "What's this all about? Is Stiles in trouble again?"

"Uh, kind of?" Scott said, shifting uncomfortably. "Only it isn't so much Stiles but... all of us?"

Damon nodded. "I can understand that. What happened?"

Scott gulped. "I take it Stiles has kept you updated on what's been happening in Beacon Hills?"

"Sure, sure." Damon said with a wave. "Doctors, Theo, Mason, Beast, yeah, I got all of it."

"Did he ever tell you about the angel?"

Damon frowned. "You know, in between warning us about the coming heavenly apocalypse and stuff, I think he actually did mention that. It was Sam, right? Dean screwed up and Sam got possessed and then Stiles got hurt and then his brothers hightailed it out of town. Yeah, that sounds about right. It's a shame. I mean, I never got much of a chance to talk to Dean, what with being busy defeating Katherine and everything, but Sam and I got to chat a little in New Orleans. He seemed nice. It's a damn shame. So, what does this have to do with them?"

"With Sam," Scott said, "not so much. Dean on the other hand... he came back to Beacon Hills. Only he wasn't himself." Scott explained the whole story, from Dean's unwelcome entry the previous morning to Stiles' terrifying kidnapping, to Lydia telling them to destroy their cell phones and move somewhere safe, to his pack's quick decision to separate, with the promise that they would find a way to knit back together when it would all be over.

"And I thought of where I could go." Scott said to a surprisingly attentive Damon. "And I don't really have any family, and my mom's on vacation with the sheriff, and I just- I remembered New Orleans, and how well we all worked together with that, and Stiles speaks so highly of you guys, I just made a rash decision and decided to come here."

"Rash, huh?" Damon asked, leaning against the wall languidly. "You drove across the entire country in fifteen hours. Buddy, that stopped being rash six states ago. I'm not sure that's even physically possible."

Scott deflated, his shoulders hunching over his defeated form. "I might have given new meaning to the word 'speeding.'" he muttered.

"I got no problem with that." Damon said. "What I do have a problem with is the fact that the idiot who saved my life- twice- somehow got himself back into trouble. And with his own brother! I don't know Dean as well as I know Sam, but judging by the look on your face, it can't be good."

"It isn't." Scott said in agreement. "We had to flee Beacon Hills just so he wouldn't kill anyone."

"That won't last long." Damon said. "Demon Dean, or whatever the hell you're calling him, doesn't seem chill enough to let people get away from him alive."

"Hence the running." Scott said. "Personally, I'm hoping he comes after me. That way my friends will be safe-"

"And you'll lead him right to Beacon Hills!" Damon said, loudly, though he didn't sound angry. "Where most of it's residents don't die so easy. I gotta hand it to you, that's smart. I'm hoping he follows you, myself. It's been too damn quiet around here since Kai was thrown into exile, I could use the fight."

"So... you're okay with this?" Scott asked tentatively.

Damon laughed harshly. "I'm more than okay with this. Now, Stefan and Elena might have some qualms about it, but I don't care. Demon or no demon, I'm not heartless enough to throw you back into the wild." He poured himself another drink and tossed it back, shaking his head for clarity. "Get your stuff." Damon said, gesturing vaguely to Scott's car parked outside. "We have tons of extra rooms, and this is a boarding house. You can stay here."

Scott sighed in relief and smiled in thanks. Then he went to his car to get his stuff.

Mason's car, meanwhile, wasn't still. It was barreling down a Nebraska freeway at 90 miles an hour, its driver gripping the wheel with fingers so tight, they might break off.

"Mason, slow down." Liam said, next to him. Meanwhile Corey and Hayden were in the backseat, watching the scenery zip by with terror.

"I'll slow down when we're in Boston." Mason said through gritted teeth, and Liam had to close his eyes and remind himself that Mason was a little different ever since the... incident, more tense, more anxiety prone. It was perfectly understandable, of course, and if fact far too mild a reaction considering what he had been put through, but sometimes Liam found himself wishing for his more carefree friend. He would squash this wistfulness every time it occurred, though, because that wasn't fair to Mason. Mason probably wished from time-to-time that Liam hadn't gotten sucked into the crazy that was Beacon Hills. The point was, he never voiced those opinions, the least Liam could do was offer the same courtesy.

"Why are we going to Boston, again?" Hayden piped up from the back. If her voice was a little higher-pitched than usual, no one commented.

"Mason has family there." Liam responded, since Mason was too busy driving them to their deaths, or a speeding ticket. "It's all the way across the country, he's never brought up his relations there to anyone, he thinks we'll be safe."

"Safe from what?" Corey challenged. "Last I checked, Dean was immortal. He'll find us eventually, then what? We're just going to hide forever?"

"Yes." Mason said tersely. "We are going to hide until it all blows over, because this is Stiles' fault and he can sure as hell deal with it!"

Liam and Hayden exchanged worried looks through the rearview mirror.

"Uh... Mason?" Liam asked tactfully. "Whatcha talking about, buddy?"

"Stiles has been telling me things." Mason said, with a clipped voice. "As the only other human in the pack, he figures he and I should have some sort of bond, or whatever. A network, or something. Said he did the same thing to Allison, a little with Lydia, and two dudes named Matt and Jeremy. He's been telling me stories from his hunting, and other things... Things that you can't even imagine, things that Scott probably doesn't know about. Trust me, this is his fault, and he can deal with it!"

"What has he been telling you?" Hayden asked curiously.

Mason's hands, if possible, tightened even more on the steering wheel. "I can't tell you." he said gruffly. "I promised Stiles I wouldn't. It was more like a blood oath, really."

"Look, if you're so loyal to the guy, why are you saying it's his fault?" Corey asked angrily. "Why are you leaving him to deal with this?"

"Because we're in over our heads!" Mason shouted, the morning sunlight glinting furiously off of the car. "Because I don't trust him! Because he made a deal with Theo, our enemy, the guy who's fault it is the Beast happened, right over my unconscious body!"

The car stilled. Hayden looked shocked, Liam shrank into his seat, and Corey nearly disappeared out of sheer shame. It was this deal that had brought him back to life, after all.

And the same deal that had doomed Mason's.

"Stiles, he-" Liam said softly, awkwardly, "he never said when it happened. Or where. Just that it did."

"Scott wasn't happy when he found out. How pissed do you think he'd be if he knew it was the two minutes he'd left the two alone? He'd never forgive himself, or Stiles." Mason said, just as softly.

"Then how did you know?" Hayden questioned.

Mason was silent for a moment, and Liam might have imagined this, but his shoulders seemed to relax ever so slightly. "Stiles told me." he said finally. "He said he figured I should know. Look, you guys have got the wrong idea. I- I don't hate him, or anything. I'm not abandoning him."

"It sure looks like it." Liam said.

Mason ignored him. "Look, Stiles is really the only other person in the pack who understands what I've been through. He's the only one who knows what it's like to have your body taken over by something supernatural, and slaughter countless people. He knows what it's like to wake up human with an insurmountable blood on your hands. He knows what it's like to try to tell yourself it isn't your fault. Stiles did that over a year ago, and now he's helping me get over it. And in one particular instance, he told me what was actually his fault. And he said if someone ever came to town looking to spill his blood, I should get out and never look back. So I'm respecting his wishes, and I'm doing just that. Understand?"

Liam and Corey nodded, quickly, their heads swimming with this truckload of information. Hayden, however, wore a pensive frown.

"He's not just talking to you, is he?" Hayden asked. "He's not just telling you stories and working through your trama. He's training you to be a hunter, isn't he? Like Allison, like Matt and Jeremy, even a little like Lydia. He wants you out of the fray because you're his legacy."

Mason winced at the note of betrayal in her voice. "You're good." he said at last.

Liam turned around to look at Corey. "Did you know about this?"

Corey's guilty expression gave himself away.

Liam threw his hands into the air exasperatedly. "Does Scott know?"

"Yes." Mason said. "It was part of the deal he and Stiles struck after the whole Theo thing broke. Stiles could do whatever he wanted, but he had to tell Scott if any of his decisions affected the pack. After the Beast thing, well, Stiles decided to train me, and Scott wholeheartedly agreed. Encouraged it, even. But no one else knows."

"Why?" Hayden asked.

"Apart from ruining my chances at being a secret weapon," Mason said grimly, "Stiles didn't want the pack to assume I could protect myself until he was sure I could. He wasn't going to keep it a secret for long, guys. He knows that doesn't work out well."

None of them had been present, but they all imagined the glorious sunset and the blood on the floor, Alexander's body falling to the ground with a final thump!

"Wait a minute..." Liam asked. "Do you have weapons in the car? Like in the trunk? Guns and stuff?"

Mason didn't answer.

"Mason, you're already speeding! If we get pulled over-"

Mason was silent.

"God dammit, Mason, if we get arrested while the Sheriff's out of town-"

"We're headed to Boston." Mason said firmly, speaking calmly over his friend's panic, "and we're staying with my family until this blows over, or until Stiles tells me otherwise. And then we'll talk about this more later."

Corey and Hayden his their grins behind their hands at Liam's stunned expression, a normal reaction to finding out your mild-mannered friend was suddenly a badass, in control hunter-in-training.

They sped along the highway, a little less tense than earlier.

"I wonder what Stiles is up to now?" Corey asked after a while. "Lydia said she'd guaranteed he'd get away."

What was Stiles doing at that moment? Well, he was driving his car with tighter fingers than Mason. He wasn't doing anything interesting. Malia, on the other hand, was in one of Braeden's safehouses, an undisclosed location in the Southwestern United States, a cup of coffee in her hand, staring at her cousin with one eyebrow raised incredulously.

"What?" Derek asked.

"You're not even going to ask me why I'm here?" Malia asked.

Derek shrugged. "Braeden says you needed a place to crash, alright, you needed a place to crash. I'm not one to ask questions."

"Clearly." Malia drawled. She took a sip of her coffee, wincing at the bitterness, reminding herself that according to all her friends, it was a necessity to human function. Nevermind that she hated the taste. "But come on, you're not even curious?"

"Nope." Derek said, popping the 'p' for emphasis.

"Fine." Malia said, plopping her mug down with unnecessary force. "But I'm going to tell you anyway."

"Why, so you can ask for my help?" Derek grumbled.

"No." Malia said, "so you can run scared. So you can have a shot at protecting yourself."

Derek, against his instinct, leaned forward. "From what?"

Malia leaned back triumphantly. "Dean Winchester."

"You said you got away." Derek grumbled.

"So you were listening when I was telling Braeden what happened. Good to know." Malia said with a smug smile. "Here's what I didn't tell you. After Stiles tumbled over that threshold, after Dean came roaring at him and knocked him unconscious, he picked up his body like it weighed nothing and headed to the door. We were all in too much shock to do anything, which is what he counted on. But before he left, he turned to us," Malia shuddered as she recalled, "Stiles' head just lolling in his arms, and he said he would not rest until everyone in Stiles' pack was dead. Until he tore us all to pieces. Then he was gone."

"You think he's going to come after you." Derek said. "Not just Stiles."

"I'm sure of it." Malia whispered. "But that isn't all. Dean promised to tear apart Stiles' entire pack. What do you bet he has a long memory?"

"What do you mean?"

The desert sun glinted off of Malia's eyes in the most ironic way as she replied. "Ithink he means a lot more than the eight of us who ran away from Beacon Hills. I think he's going to hunt everyone down, everyone who's ever helped Scott or Stiles or anyone in the name of Beacon Hills. Me. You. Jackson, Isaac, all those people I've never met but heard so much about. All those people I've met once but never forgotten. He's going to come for all of us. I'm not asking for pity. I'm telling you this because I need to leave, and I want you to come with me. Derek, I'm not the only one in danger. We all are."

Derek put his cup of coffee down, and from the twitch of his lips, Malia could tell that he didn't like the taste either. "You said I should run scared."

Malia nodded, the image of that Saturday morning making her cringe.

"Well fine. I'll run. But wolves run in packs, so I'll run to yours. Do you know anyone around here who can help us?"

"Yes." Malia said. "In Santa Fe."

Derek's mouth twitched, ever so slightly, into something that might almost be considered a smile. "Get Braeden, and get a gun. We'll leave in 20."