Welcome to my fanfiction, my dear readers.
I kind of shouldn't have started another one, but this plot-bunny was more than evil.

This is kind of Revelationfic of Scott's father finding out, and some bromance between the pack members, as well as a killer they need to find, just that you know.
Ah well, uptates will kind of be slow, because I have still one german, and an english fic I need to finish, but alas, there will be more.

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf, or the picture.

If you were bitten und lucky enough to survive, a world of pain and death greeted you. You wouldn't realize it at first, not before the first transformation and that would definitely not be the last. Probably the next five or so would still be bad to. Control must be taught, as the law states, but not everyone followed this law.

Now if you had an 'Elder' or an 'Alpha' on your side, who instructed you in the lifestyle of a werewolf, the days and nights, would get slowly more bearable.

But Scott didn't have any support, besides Stiles, that helped him through the transition between human and wolf. Because Peter was the last person he would ask for help.

The major changes, in you, were your feelings. You always have the urge in you to just let everything out, like your furry problem, which wouldn't be healthy, especially for your surroundings. That feeling, as if you're in withdrawal, wanting blood, showing strength, dominating everything.

This was roughly the big picture of being a werewolf. You got strength, health and power, but you had to live with an entity (that was purely a huge load of instincts, compressed to an image of a wolf) inside you head, that was always a millimeter or second away from overriding your will.

You needed to be constantly in absolute control, especially around humans. It was hard to measure you strength down to a level, that didn't hurt the fragile body of a person.

He knew all that, and his steel control even gave him the chance to be a true Alpha. Not many people were aware that they truly existed, lesser have even seen one.

Scott was currently lying in his bed, in his hotel room, in New York City. Those thoughts were running through his mind, as absentmindedly watched himself continuously growing claws before retracting them.

He sighed, thinking that he done that at least a hundred times today.

The room was dirty and smelled as somebody died in here, but it was the cheapest he could find, so he didn't argue.

Werewolves were nature loving creatures, which were practically nature itself.

New York was loud, smelly, to colorful and his inner wolf was constantly, almost desperately, urging him to flee this horrible city. It was hard, his mind was constantly on edge and he was probably not far away from snapping.

So you see, not the best place for a werewolf to be.

Dr. Deaton told him that many, like really many, werewolves lived in NY. Scott had wondered why. Deaton had just shrugged himself and told him that it had probably something to do with place of birth and place of bite.

Not that he didn't like the thrill of such a big city and at least his human side liked it.

He sighed again, waiting till it would get dark outside.

It couldn't be more than two or three hours.

One of the few advantages of being not human was, that he could almost accurately tell, when the sun would go down or up, or which moon phase was currently at display on the night sky.

He talked with Derek about it and he said it was an Alpha thing. He also said, the stronger you get, the more you could control the wolf.

Scott heard footsteps coming along the corridor before his door. He tensed, his skin prickled.

Nothing happened.

Only as the footsteps went down, away from him, be relaxed.

He was nervous.

The reason why Scott was in NY was Derek, or more the lack of Derek back at home.

He went missing, again. It wasn't the first time.

And Scott was the one who took it on to himself, to haul his sorry ass back home.

He growled almost involuntary. Normally he would have let Derek brood a few days, before he would come home himself, but they needed him now. With an unknown entity killing left and right, they needed the whole pack together and Derek was part of the pack.

Scott had a pretty good guess on what happened, and the beaten up Peter was a good clue. They probably had an argument that escalated, again.

It was already such a chaotic situation and Derek's disappearance only complicated it further.

Especially when his father was searching for him, hot on his trail, because he left in the middle of an school week, without saying really why, and his friends could only cover for him so far.

He closed his eyes for a few moments, forcing his body to completely relax.

Dr. Deaton told him that he would find his pack member (or at least some clues) in a club, exclusively for werewolves, called Lumos. He hoped for everyone present that Derek was there, because his temper was rising.

An hour later, his phone woke him, from his impromptu nap.

He looked at the caller ID and saw that it only was Stiles. Scott was kind of avoiding his mom and father. He only told her, that it was pack business. She wasn't so happy about that.

"Yes?" he asked as he sat up.

"Good Day or Night, my lovely friend. How is the weather?" Stile sounded happy, too happy.

"Stiles, what do you want?" his voice sharp, with his momentarily not quite controllable temper. His friend sobered up.

"They have found another body."

"Do we now the corpse?" Scott asked. A few moments of silence stretched between them.

"No, it was some hooker girl from downtown."

Scott sighed again.

"How was she killed?"

"The same way as the other ones, from what looks like a mixer through the head. I think I'm never trying to bake a cake again. Such a waste, I could have been the next star cook…"

"Do you have pictures?"

"…and then I would be always in France, because star cooks live in France, and-"

"Stiles."

"Oh right, uh...I send them to you as soon as I can, okay? Entwist your panties." Stiles crumbled.

"Do you have a lead on what could cause those wounds?"

"No, but Kira, Lydia and me are still searching. Did you know that there existed furry porn?"

"Stiles."

"Oh yeah, back on track. We haven't talked to Deaton yet, because that would be normally your job, but were doing what we can. How it's going with Derek?"

"I traced him back to New York, but the city is too smelly to find him. I'm going to...ohm...visit a few people, that could help me."

"Derek is such an Idiot."

"If this is everything Stiles, I'm going to hang up. I need to get going. It's already dark outside."

"Oh right,...ah wait. I forgot to tell you something. Your father knows where you are. He is coming. I heard him talk to your mother. He said that he will catch a flight tonight and be there tomorrow, around midday. He is probably tracing your phone. So keep it off, will ya?"

"Stiles I can't keep my phone of, I need to stay in contact with you. We still need to find the Killer. Besides it won't take long."

A sigh was heard trough the phone.

"Just don't get yourself caught."

"I'll do my best."

And with that the conversation ended.

Scott tucked his phone away and stood up. So his father was coming. He needed to hurry.

With that in mind he walked out of his hotel room, on to the streets of New York.

It didn't take him long to find the club. It was hidden in a rather shabby looking street. The only indicator that he was right, were the two guards standing before the door.

A drunken guy was currently talking, or more or less aggravating one of the guards.

He walked forward until he was standing almost directly in front of the other guard. The bulky man didn't look impressed.

"I need to talk to Maya."

That on the other hand, got a reaction. The man's eyes narrowed and he looked suspicious.

"What do you want from her?"

"Dr. Deaton told me, that she could help me find something."

The man's suspiciousness was still present.

He gaze went over at the man still arguing with his companion, then back at Scott.

His eyes changed to yellow.

"And why should I let you through?"

Scott didn't have time for sweet talk. He was on a mission.

His eyes changed to red and a low rumbling growl was vibrating through the air.

Too low, to be heard by any human.

The guard's eyes widened and he took a step back.

"Because I'm trying to find a pack member, and I'm willingly to go through mountains of bodies, if it's needed. So, please."

The guard looked him over, before stepping aside to let him move.

Scott retracted his wolf slowly and walked through the door.

Inside, Bass was pounding down on his body, like a second heartbeat. Scott could vaguely recall the name of the song. He almost snorted aloud when he remembered it. Humans Are Such Easy Prey.

As he neared the dance room, he could see a guard waiting for him. It seemed that news traveled fast here.

As he neared he just turned around and Scott followed him.

They walked through the room, around the masses of werewolves, through another door, up the stairs into a balcony like thing, which had windows overlooking the dancefloor.

In this room where only a few guards, two men in suits and in the middle sat a strikingly beautiful woman in a dark green cocktail dress.

Her gaze fixed on him, and he could almost hear his inner wolf shift inside his mind.

"Young Alpha, what a pleasure it is meeting you." she drawled, a glass with a strong alcoholic beverage in it.

Scott swallowed. Already aware, that she was aware, of his nervousness.

So this was Maya.

"Dr. Deaton told me you could help me find Derek."

Her sight went over his body, before she gestured to an empty seat in front of her.

Scott sat reluctantly down.

"Which Derek? I know many."

"Derek Hale. He hasn't been long in this city. You, as Alpha of the White Moon pack, should know about new wolves in the city." He explained.

Maya sighed. Her auburn hair, slightly moving across her bare shoulders.

"Right to business, I see. Well I know of a location he could use as hideout, but...this information...doesn't come free."

Her tongue moving slowly, seductively over her lower lip. He could see, even with the distance and the darkness, the white tip of a really sharp fang.

"What do you want?"

"How about an Alliance?"

Scott stilled.

"What kind of Alliance?"

A smirk was gracing her lips, and she looked almost animalistic.

"I see dark times coming and I see that you will be walking out of it with imaginable strength. What I want is a pact between our two packs, which is based on support. If we need help, you come and help us. If you need help, we come and help you, and no war between us. Easy as that."

She stood up and moved in front of him, with a grace not associated with humans.

Scott thought about it. It wasn't such a bad bargain. His pack was small and they could use all the help they could get.

He sighed and nodded. To hell with Derek.

"Fine. But I want you to promise, that no innocent blood will be spilled."

She nodded.

Her fangs grew and she ripped a small wound into her hand, then she looked expectantly at him.

After a millisecond he understood, the pact was to be sealed with blood exchange. Something that Derek told him too, thankfully. He to, ripped a small wound into his hand and they hands met in a firm handshake.

Scott could feel something burning through his veins, up his arm; it stopped right under his tattoo. Wearing a black wife beater, he looked at the burning patch of skin. What he saw, was what looked like a white half-moon.

"What is that?"

She chuckled.

"It shows our pact to everyone else. Here, look."

She showed him the inner side of her arm, where different symbols were lined up. Maya pointed at a red circle with a red point in the middle.

"That is your packs symbol. Despite not having a name yet, you got a strong color."

Scott studied it for a moment.

"What about the location." he finally asked.

"I'll give you the address. Oh and you need to have my number."

She smiled at him as she pushed two papers into his hands. He briefly scanned them.

"And now," she turned around, "go and have some fun."

With a single hand movement the guards were moving and he was escorted out of the room, back on to the level with the dancefloor.

The music was getting louder and the bodyguard gave him one last look before disappearing back into one of the halls.

He looked around, shoving the paper into his trousers, wondering what he should do now.

It was already too late to search for Derek and ..fuck it all.

He stayed until six o'clock in the morning and got reasonably drunk. That itself was a feat he was proud of. Thanks to the high concentrated alcohol, specially brewed for the stronger bodies of werewolves, he spends a great time in the club. It was half past six when he finally hit the bed. Sleep coming to him instantly.

The first thing he noticed as he came around was the strange scent in the air. It smelled familiar. Only half a second later he realized that there was another person in the room, and that he knew that person. Annoyance being the most present emotion he could smell.

Scott had a really good idea of who was sitting in one of the chairs opposite the bed. Briefly wondering how he got in here, before remembering that he was FBI.

He opened his eyes with an exhausted sigh, only to come face to face with his Dad.

"Good Morning, or should I say midday?"

The ice in his voice was unmistakable directed at him.

Scott sat up, swinging his feet over the rim and standing up.

"Dad…."

His father looked bad. Black rings under his eyes and an ashen complexion, but besides that he was angry, really angry.

"Scott, do you know that I'm really disappointed in you? Your behavior is so terrible, don't you see you hurt your mother with it?"

Scott eyes narrowed.

"Don't talk about mom. You don't understand a single thing. And on that matter, why are you even here? Don't you have some murder case to solve?"

Scott was absentmindedly aware that his temper was, again, on the rise.
Also, a painful headache was raging inside his skull. Damn alcohol.
He didn't have the nerve to argue with a man that decided, after years of absence, that he should parent his son again.

Scott's father stood up to. Now both were standing head to head.

"Then enlighten me. What is happening? You go in the middle of a school week on a road trip to New York? Getting bad grades? Disappearing in the middle of the night? And all those corpses appearing around you and your friends? What game is being played here? This is an investigation, and with you stroll through half of the country, you are pretty high on my list of suspects." his voice getting louder and louder towards the end.

Scott rubbed his head. That was not how he wanted to start the day.

"I didn't kill those people! And this here has nothing to do with the murders! I ask you again, why are you here?"

"Because you know more than you let on. I can't allow more people to die, because you can't open your mouth!" his voice dripping with pure anger.

"You think it's that easy? I won't let you run headfirst into danger." Scott relented.

"Then tell me dammit! I'm your father!" he screamed.

"You're not my father anymore and stop yelling. I have a headache-"

"Because you were underage drinking in a club, that you weren't even legally allowed to enter."

"Yeah, well...should I be sorry now? You can't just come back into my life, demanding to control me!"

Scott needed to hold back, before a growl slipped between his lips. Slowly it was getting harder to control his instincts, and slowly he started to care less.

Rafael McCall was taken aback by the outburst. Had he seen his sons eyes shift to red or did he image it?

"I'm still a parent that wants to look out for their child." He almost whispered.

"Dad, " Scotts voice sounded almost broken," I'm not a child anymore. You are far too late."

With that said he ventured into the bathroom and started to clean himself. He didn't care how cold the water was.

His inner wolf was distraught, and so was he.

The nineteen year old could hear that his Dad hadn't moved, he could also smell his surprise.

It didn't take long and a freshly showered and half-dressed Scott left the bathroom.

He grabbed a shirt from his bag he left on the small table, all the while feeling the gaze of his father on his back.

"You got a tattoo." was the only thing that left the man's lips. It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yeah, I got it a few years back." Scott simply told his father. No further explanation given.

Reminded of his tattoo and last night, he grabbed the papers and looked at it.

The address was there, as well as the number. But there was a hastily scribbled message below the address.

When you have found him, bring him to me. I want to talk to him.

His Dad was, in the meantime, observing him.

As Scott made the motion to leave the room his father came back to life.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded.

"Searching for a friend. Now would you please leave me alone?"

A new expression entered Rafael's face. One that Scott didn't like.

"I'm coming with you."

"No."

"Yes. You are hiding something from me, and I will find out the truth."

Should I use another picture? Argh, I don't know. Oh, and don't forget, a review would e nice.