Chapter 4

"Mystery"

He starts noticing that his days become longer and longer and it gets much harder to open his eyes in the morning. And it kills him inside every time, because, lately, he understands that Allison isn't the main reason why it's so hard.

Of course, he loves her, more than he anticipated, more than he did. He doesn't care if he's called a love fool, because that's what he is. But Scott understands that getting back with her now becomes the least important goal in his life.

His life is constantly in danger. His mother's life is in danger, just like everyone he knows and cares. And the worst part in all that is he can't do anything.

They tried – tried to protect themselves. It didn't work as planned. They tried to attack. It failed too. The next best thing that came to Scott's mind was to ignore it. But the waiting was killing him. The thought of someone dying because of him or because of some werewolf… any werewolf…it was too much to bare.

"Scott, are you listening?"

Scott snapped out of his reverie. He wasn't paying attention at all.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Deaton," he apologized.

Dr. Deaton looked at him, attentive. He was concerned about Scott and about what was going on his mind.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked after a few minutes of silence.

Scott shook his head and started cleaning the desk after the last dog. "It's nothing, I'm…" he stopped in mid-sentence, turning to his boss.

"Actually…can I ask you something?"

The veterinarian nodded.

"Is it possible for a werewolf to hide his scent? I mean… is it possible for another werewolf not to feel him, even if they are in the same room?"

Dr. Deaton arched an eyebrow at Scott's question. Of all questions, that one surprised him. He didn't know why Scott was asking, if only… then he remembered the last events and realized the origin of Scott's question.

"Let me ask you a question. Tell me, did you feel Deucalion is a werewolf when you were with him in the elevator for the first time?"

Scott looked at him confused, than his eyes became big and a shocked expression took over his face.

"No, but…"

"Sometimes, when the werewolf has enough power, he can hide his scent from others, but not for long and it is, actually, a very rare occurrence. Most of the time, only a strong alpha can have that power," he explained.

"But is it possible that some werewolf feels it and another one doesn't?"

They stayed in silence for a few moments, in which both of them were contemplating their own suspicions.

"If I'm being honest, I've never heard of it," answered Scott's boss.

'Then how the hell does Isaac feels she's a werewolf and I don't? And is she, really?' he thought.

"I never pictured mom like this," she said, looking around the dusty furniture.

"Like what?" asked Ryan.

Leyla sat on a chair, not caring that it was dirty. They were in an abandoned house, which, according to Ryan's memories of their mother and the information he found recently, was theirs.

She looked at her brother, seeing how his dark eyes wandered around the room. He was relieved that he found it, she knew it. She didn't feel anything, actually, but she didn't want to tell him that. He was feeling content and she was happy. After Clark died, they didn't have many happy moments. Not with their family. She tried not to think about Clark. Every time she thought about her eldest brother, she felt on the edge of tears. And she hated it.

"Well, you can't deny we're a screwed up family in a large line of screwed up families," she joked.

It was their way of dealing with it, dealing with the pain, the destruction, the suffering and the emptiness. Joking around and pretending to be tough – it worked on the outside and sometimes they could fool themselves, but it ended quickly. They were broken and they knew it.

"We're not a screwed up family, we have just one family member that's sick …you, at least, had your mother…"

"She was your mother too, even if not by blood, Ryan, and you know it. I'm not going to let you think any other way," she interrupted him, roughly.

Ryan smiled and she retorted with the same gesture.

She loved his smile; it always makes her feel so… powerful, like she would overcome every obstacle.

She looked at him, more attentive this time. He was her brother, but looked nothing like her. He had dark hair, brown eyes with dark shades and thin lips, almost pale. He was attractive in his own way and she wasn't surprised every time they were together, girls were flirting with him. She made fun of him because of it.

"I know… it's just… you are a lucky girl to have such a mother," he said to her.

"Yeah, maybe…I don't even remember her, Ryan. I didn't know her, so it's a little too much to say I'm lucky," she stopped, looking the other way, anywhere, but not her brother. "None of us was lucky…" she added, whispering.

Ryan didn't comment anything on that, because he knew she was right and it wasn't his place to say something. He thought exactly the same and one thing he isn't - is a hypocrite.

"We should make this place not so abandoned, don't you think?" he asked, changing the subject. He started going through the stuff that was just laying around there, full of dust.

His sister stood up and repeated his actions. There were a lot of books, toys and different things, mostly for children.

"It's like she was preparing this house for us… to live in it, like a normal family," she said, taking a toy in her hand. It was a lion and she actually remembered it. It was her toy. She was shocked; she barely knew anything about her childhood. Sometimes she had bits and pictures of what once was, but they were only that – parts of something that could be easily unreal. Ryan was older than her and remembered much better.

"Or not," he said and Leyla turned to him quickly.

"What? Why?"

"I think you should read this. It's addressed to you."

"You still don't believe me, right?"

Isaac was pissed. The have talked about the new girl almost constantly. Most of the time Isaac was spying on her, trying to separate the odd feelings he had when he was near her. Why he had that kind of stir around her, he didn't know. But the fact was, she was a werewolf and the needed to know what she was doing there. But Scott still hasn't felt anything about her, even though he talked to Dr. Deaton about it.

"I believe you, Isaac. I'm just not eager to do something about it," Scott answered.

"Why the hell not?" entailed in the conversation Stiles, with his usual quick words and active gestures.

"Yeah, why the hell not?" repeated Isaac after him.

Scott rolled his eyes, looking at his friends. They really didn't get it, especially Isaac. And Scoot understood him. He was feeling something that no one else did and it was torturing him, especially knowing that the last days Isaac was constantly having his eyes pointed at Leyla. It would have freaked him too.

But he wasn't going to rush into anything, because he didn't know a single piece of information about her. They have rushed before and it didn't end well at all.

"And you're not telling Derek about it, either," said Isaac again, irritated.

"That's not necessarily a bad thing," muttered Stiles.

"And you know my reason for it, Isaac. The last time when we went for something we didn't actually know anything about, almost got him killed. I'm not going to make the same mistakes again. Until I know something real about her, I'm doing nothing!" answered Scott, explaining himself.

Isaac thought it over a few moments, but his determined look hasn't disappeared from his face.

"I'm still going to follow her; maybe I will find something more than just…"

He stopped from talking, finally noticing Stiles' insisting kicks in his arm and Scott's scared face.

"What the…?" he started, but couldn't finish that sentence either, seeing as behind him was standing the girl he was following the last days.

"So, you're the stalker, huh?" she asked and crossed her hands at her chest.