Filler Episode - Chapter 7

It was two days until the full moon, but there was something mystical about running at night when it was snowing. The world around the pair of betas glowed. Their footsteps were muffled. Every bound lifted a cloud of powder that merged with the fat flakes that fell from the sky. The snow was heavier on the preserve. Beacon Hills had held steady at about three feet of accumulation. Plows were running around the clock to keep the town running. Out on the preserve there were trees bent under the weight of the snow. The open spaces were filled with rolling white waves. There was easily five feet build up in the forest.

Isaac stayed a few steps behind Scott as they moved. They switched between two legs and all fours as they ran across the top of the snow. The patrol went faster than usual. Any forest animals had fled or were held up during the freak storm. More than that, there was a stillness. Neither of them spoke. There was no laughter. They could feel something was wrong, but aside from the massive amounts of snow, there weren't any clues.

Scott paused at the base of a tree. The limbs bent to provide an alcove. Night-vision was a perk of being a werewolf. It was a lot easier to see now that his vision didn't go red anymore. Isaac crouched nearby.

"Do you hear that?" He asked the taller wolf.

Isaac tilted an ear to the sky. He closed his eyes to focus.

"Branches breaking?" Isaac shrugged.

"Keep close," Scott turned toward the source. "Stay low, quiet, and follow my lead."

The two betas sliced through the snow. They hugged the tree line and stayed to the shadows. Scott came to an abrupt stop as they hit the edge of a small clearing. A couple of months ago he had learned that werewolves were real. Magic was too, according to the books that Stiles borrowed from Peter. There were mentions of a few other supernatural things, but none of them mentioned yeti, or the large blue skinned people fighting them.

"You're seeing this, right?" Isaac whispered beside him.

There were five creatures that looked like a cross between a gorilla and a grizzly. They had shimmering white fur that blended in with the snow around them. In the middle of the five yeti were two men that stood at least eight feet tall. Their skin was a dark shade of blue reserved for water under ice. They wore only a loincloth despite the heaps of snow around them. Chunks of ice covered their hands which they used to bash the yeti when they got too close.

"What do you think?" Isaac asked.

"Those are yeti," Scott said the words and still had a hard time believing them. "I guess those are some sort of ice people?"

"Frost giants," Isaac clarified. "Norse mythology is full of them."

Scott was silent as the fight continued.

"I mean, what do you think we should do?" Isaac moved closer to him. "We could go get Peter and Derek?"

"Five on two doesn't sound fair to me," Scott launched out from their hiding spot.

He sprinted across the snow toward the closest yeti. The creature turned to face him too late. Scott shoulder-checked the yeti square in the chest. The beast tumbled into a clunky roll and landed sprawled on its back. All eyes turned to the lone werewolf. The stillness was broken as Isaac tackled another yeti. He used the mythical creature as a landing pad. The clearing burst back to action. Scott and Isaac fell into a natural rhythm that came with years of playing on the same team. One jumped high, the other slid low, and they sent another yeti sprawling into the snow.

Scott ducked as a yeti sailed through the air above his head. It knocked a layer of snow off a tree as it slammed into the trunk. An alien three-note whistle sent the yeti scattering off into the night. Scott and Isaac were left in the clearing with the two frost giants. It dawned on Scott that the odds weren't really stacked against the duo. At a distance they were big, but close they were huge. He could see now that they had swirling black tattoos along their skin. It made it hard for him to see now that they were still. They'd be nearly invisible to anyone else.

The frost giants studied the werewolves. One of them spoke. He was in the middle of saying something when the other tapped him on the shoulder.

"English," the second said to the first. The accent sounded just as much like Russian as it didn't.

"Thank you for your assistance," the first repeated. "The yeti ambushed us as we made our patrol."

"We were on patrol too," Scott replied. "This land belongs to our pack."

"Ah," the first gave his partner a sidelong glance. "We were not aware. This place was picked because of its magic."

Scott looked at Isaac, who shrugged.

"Are you responsible for all the snow?" Isaac asked.

"In a way, little wolf," the second spoke. "Those that send the yeti use the storm to seek us. We hoped that the magic here would mask us."

"Are there more of you?" Scott asked.

The frost giants didn't speak.

"You will need to speak to our alpha," Scott broke the silence. "Whatever is coming after you is in our territory. We need to be prepared."

"I will inform your…" the first turned to the second. They conversed in the other language. Scott guessed they were searching for the right word judging by the hand-gestures. "Alpha as you say."

"There is a house," Scott pointed toward the ruins of the Hale home. "The remains of one. We'll look for you there tomorrow night."

The first one nodded, "thank you again, little wolf."

Scott and Isaac watched as they plodded away into the snow. They faded perfectly into the shadows once they hit the tree line.

"Yeti and frost giants," Scott took a deep breath. "My life is so strange."

Isaac laughed.

"Come on," Scott scanned the tree line once more. "Derek is waiting for us to check in. I see a lot of patrols in our future."

~

"Yeti?" Peter looked at the two betas in front of him.

"And frost giants," Isaac said.

"And frost giants," Peter repeated.

He looked to Scott, who nodded. Peter let out a long breath.

"Call Stiles," Peter strode to the door. "Pick a book, look for mention of yeti or frost giants. Gather every scrap of information you can find."

"Where are you going?" Scott asked.

"I need to speak to someone," Peter slipped on his jacket. "Derek will be here soon. Fill him in."

Peter didn't care much for driving. It was too restricting compared to running as a wolf. He didn't have to worry about swerving into a parked car or spinning out when he was on all fours. Melissa McCall was home, and he couldn't just run off into the snow. She was suspicious enough with Scott and Isaac heading off for a 'morning run'.

He would never admit it, but he had picked a Jeep because of Stiles. If one could survive an overly energetic teenager, it should be able to handle a werewolf. Granted, he was new, had a hard top, and didn't need a fresh paint job.

The snow around town had thinned out with random light dusting. Most of the clouds had moved on and the full shine of the sun was working away at the accumulation. Peter would have taken it as a good sign, but the storm was now focused on the preserve.

Peter knew quite a few secrets about the area. There was a reason why the Hale pack stayed close, but there were times like this, when odd things attracted the region. Before, he had been a little out of place in the pack. He was too young to be attached to his older siblings, but too old to feel comfortable with their kids. The feeling led him to study. He quickly became the new archivist. Peter knew a significant amount about the history of the pack, but there were limits to his knowledge. He would need the emissary.

The jeep rumbled down the road to the vet's office.

~

Melissa McCall knocked on the door to the apartment. Derek answered. He was fresh out of the shower and looked like he could use a few hours of sleep. His eyes dropped to the box in her hands.

"Assorted bagels, three kinds of cream cheese, and there's a matching box of doughnuts in the kitchen," she smiled.

The scowl on his face melted as the scent hit him.

"Thanks, mom," his eyes went wide as he heard his words.

Melissa kissed him on the cheek as she walked into the apartment.

"No problem," she set the box on the table. "You need to get the doughnuts up here before Stiles gets here if you want a bear claw."

Derek gratefully took the excuse to flee. She turned her gaze to Isaac and Scott. They each had a book open on the table before them.

"What are we studying?" She slipped into the open chair.

"Stuff."

"And things," Scott added.

"Werewolf stuff?"

"What? No. Werewolves? Those don't exist. Just stories. Movies. Books. Nothing based in reality," Isaac took a breath. "I have to go to the bathroom."

"Uh," Scott looked at the door, trying to figure how fast he could get out.

"Scott," she opened the box of bagels. "I'm not stupid. You haven't needed your inhaler in two months, you're amazing at lacrosse, and you're constantly hanging around Peter and Derek. Not to mention Peter shouldn't be healing as fast as he is, or at all. Most people with burns as bad as he had need multiple skin grafts."

"Uh," Scott repeated.

"Anyone living in Beacon Hills knows this place is a magnet for weirdness," she plucked a cinnamon and raisin bagel from the box. "The year before you were born there was a cornfield that popped up overnight where the bank is now. It was gone a few days later. Most people just feign ignorance."

"There was also that hour when the sparrows spoke," Derek said from the doorway. "I still have no idea what that was about. How much have you figured out?"

"I know Scott is a werewolf, the full moon and all the laundry helped," she smiled at her son. "Peter being one would make sense to his healing rate, but I'm unsure of you. Isaac is a puppy regardless."

"I heard that," Isaac called.

"I could see Stiles as a Jack Russell," Melissa chuckled.

Derek laughed. Scott stared at the broody beta.

"He can laugh?" Scott whispered.

"No," Derek wiped a tear from his eye. "Stiles isn't a werewolf. I was born one. Isaac is one as well."

"The snow?" Melissa asked.

Derek sat heavily in an open chair at the table. He put the box of doughnuts in front of him.

"Yeti," Derek struggled with the word.

"Yeti?"

"And frost giants," Isaac chimed in from the other room.

"You can come back," Melissa called. "Frost giants and yeti."

"Yeah," Scott nodded.

"That's weird even for Beacon Hills," she tilted her head to the side. "What's the plan?"

"Research," Derek sighed. "Lots and lots of research."

"Do you have a coffee maker?" Melissa asked.

Derek nodded.

"Isaac," Melissa called over her shoulder. "If you're going to hide in the other room you can make a pot of coffee."

"Yes, ma'am," Isaac replied.

"Now," Melissa pulled a book closer. "Am I the only one who can read Latin?"

~

Peter stepped into the cozy lobby. An older man sat in one of the chairs with a Labrador close to him. Both had more white in their hair than color. The dog regarded Peter with a stare. Its tail stopped mid-wag.

"Hey there," Peter squatted and held out his hand.

The dog took a careful step closer and sniffed the outstretched hand. It licked his fingers before it settled back by his person. Peter wrinkled his brow as he took a closer look at the Labrador. He sniffed. The pair smelled of musty arthritis. The cold had exacerbated their illness.

Peter rang the bell on the counter. A man that dared the be called cute came out from the back. Scott didn't talk much about his boss, but he only said good things. The calming nature and his gentle hands when dealing with animals of all sorts. It was true. There was something about the man that radiated a welcome stillness.

"Yes?"

"Hello," Peter inclined his head. "I'm Peter Hale and I was hoping to speak with you."

"It's nice to meet you," the vet inclined his head as well. "I'm Doctor Alan Deaton. There is a patient ahead of you. Please take a seat."

"Thank you," Peter sat a chair away from the man and his dog.

"How are you feeling today, Skip?" Deaton turned his attention to the dog.

The dog wagged its tail as it stood. Its steps were careful, but steady.

"The cold isn't kind to your joints," the vet gave a sad smile. "Come on in and I'll see what I can do."

Peter waited as patiently as he could. The others were going through the archives and Stiles would go through the digital collection. He had helped organize and put out feelers for replacement copies of the tomes that were lost. It had been a massive stroke of luck that Peter had part of the archives in a low humidity storage room. He was in the middle of the process before the fire.

"Mister Hale?"

He looked up at Deaton.

"I have time now."

"Thank you," Peter cleared his throat. "May we speak in private?"

"Of course," Deaton motioned for him to follow.

They stepped into a small office. A degree was on the wall as well as a few scattered pictures. The lighting in the room was tasteful and soothing. Deaton offered him a chair. The wooden frame was a simple oak that smelled vaguely of sandalwood. It was also surprisingly comfortable.

"I was hoping you could help provide information," Peter said once Deaton had also take a seat. "I'm sure you've noticed the weather. I have a lead on the origin, but it's something outside of my expertise."

"I see," Deaton kept his voice even. "And how can I help?"

"I believe you know my sister," Peter found a thump in his throat. He cleared it again. "She spoke highly of you."

"Thank you," Deaton smiled.

"Can you tell me anything about yeti, or frost giants?" Peter asked.

Deaton paused. His eyes went to the view of the snow-covered town outside his window.

"I only know a little," Deaton spoke finally. "Yetis are rare, even among the world that you belong. They travel in groups and are intelligent animals. Unfortunately, that is all I know. They come from old magic and, as I said, are quite rare."

"And the frost giants?"

"Mercenaries," Deaton stated simply. "Neither have the capabilities of creating such a storm."

"Thank you," Peter stood and offered his hand.

"I will help only when I can," Deaton shook his hand.

Peter nodded once more and left. He pulled out his cellphone once he was in the jeep.

"Hello," Derek answered.

"Anything?" Peter asked.

"Not yet," he replied.

"Is Stiles there?"

"He set up a search that is going through the digital archives," Derek answered. "He is also doing his best to eat all the bear claws."

"Explain."

"Misses McCall brought bagels and doughnuts," Derek added softly. "She also reads Latin."

"She is a smart lady," Peter nibbled on his bottom lip. "She's lived in Beacon Hills for a while?"

"She mentioned corn," Derek said.

"You were too young for that," Peter sighed. "I was barely old enough."

"What was it?"

"A long story for another time," Peter started the jeep. "I'll be back soon. Keep searching."

"Yes, alpha," Derek replied.

"You're such a dork," Peter hung up. He tapped the power button on his GPS. "Beacon Hills, address for Argent, Chris."

~

Victoria Argent answered the door. She stared at Peter. The poison in her glare would have killed him faster than any wolfsbane had it been weaponized.

"Hello, Mrs Argent," Peter gave a civil smile. "We haven't officially met. I'm-"

"I know who you are," she didn't let him finish. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to speak with you and your husband," he kept his voice even.

"I'm not letting a beast like you into my house."

"Now," his voice didn't raise in the slightest, but the menace was clear. "Enlighten me, if I wanted to come in, right now, how would you stop me?"

"Peter?" Allison called from the top of the stairs. "What are you doing here?"

Victoria snapped a look at her daughter. Allison ignored the look. Her step didn't slow as she came down the stairs. She pulled Peter in a hug.

"Is something wrong?" She looked at him.

"No," he relaxed instantly. "I came here to talk to your parents."

"How do you know him?" Her mother studied her daughter for a long moment.

"He's renting a room at Scott's house," she shrugged. "You know, where my friends live? My dad is in the dining room, come on."

She pulled Peter through the door. Her mother followed a step behind. Allison led him into the dining room. Chris Argent sat at the long, dark table with a laptop in front of him and a stack of papers next to it. The smile on his face for his daughter faded once he turned his attention to her guest.

"Mister Hale," Chris stood, his hand hovered near the hidden panel at the edge of the table.

"You know Peter?" Allison looked from her father to the guest.

"Why don't you head back upstairs," Chris said gently. "Mister Hale and I have a lot to talk about."

Allison shrugged and looked at Peter, "I've got some homework to do. They're trying to make up for the days we lost."

Peter watched her go. He put his attention back to Chris.

"Forty-five?" He looked at the space where the others hand hovered.

"It has better stopping power for the work I'm in," he didn't move.

"I came here to talk," Peter motioned to a chair. "May I sit?"

"Please," Chris returned to his seat.

"I'm looking for information and I've reached my limits," Peter sat. "This storm isn't natural. We all know that. New information has come to light."

"Such as?"

"What do you know of yeti and frost giants?"

Chris laughed.

"About as much as I do?" Peter smiled.

"If this visit is to send a message," Chris left the words hang.

"Yes," Peter nodded. "You weren't connected with the fire, I checked. I am not your enemy. My pack is not your enemy. In situations such as this, where we have a common enemy, I would prefer to know that you won't extend hostilities to my pack. You, I'm sure, would rest better knowing that I'm not coming after you. Not an alliance, just a healthy coexistence."

Peter stood, "thank you for your time. If you find anything, I would appreciate a word. Something is happening here that is out of both of our hands. You know where to find me."

Peter left without another word. Victoria joined her husband in the dining room. They shared a long, silent look.

"Yeti?"

"And frost giants," Chris pinched the brow of his nose. "I'll call my contacts in Norway."