It starts like this.

A few children claim to have seen a boy with goat legs walking down the street. They're parents hardly pay attention and pull them along. It's no big deal, children have wild imaginations.

Then a priest in Michigan claims to see a demon in a lake. He says she peered up at him though the water and that he had shivers at the unnatural sickly nature of her skin and the filmy layer over her eyes. It makes the local news and a few crackpot websites but nothing more.

No one really pays attention until things like this - that is sights of the 'unnatural' - start cropping up more and more. A group of hikers claim to see a woman being absorbed into a tree; a group of survivors from a shipwreck swear that there were mermaids; a woman starts telling the story of how she saw a unicorn with a group of deer in her yard. The mythological world starts unraveling in the real one.

Scott had woken up that morning with the feeling that something was terribly wrong. The feeling carried with him and it keeps bubbling more and more until he finds himself jogging to Hecate's small cabin.

"Stiles?" He calls out as he barges through the door.

He marches in and that feeling intensifies, sharpening like a knife point to the throat.

"Stiles!"

He tears the sheets off the bed and then storms out when he finds nothing there. The pavilion with the picnic tables seems to loom too far away and he feels short of breath when he reaches it.

Hecate's table is empty.

Stiles could be anywhere in camp but somehow, he knows he isn't.

"Scott."

Scott doesn't look at the girl standing behind him as he stuffs clothes into a duffel. He has to do this.

"Scott, look at me."

He can't, can't stop, can't look at her, can't pause because if he does he'll break. Why did Stiles have to leave him?

"Scott, please."

They were supposed to be brothers. Sure, in the back of his mind he knew that he had been pushing him away for Allison but that's just because he had never felt that way before.

"Scott!"

Scott's hands are shaking as he drops the bag he had been trying to pack. It's contents fall haphazardly out of the bag. His vision is blurry and something drips to the floor.

Is he crying?

As he goes to wipe away the tears slender hands grasp his and cradle it. He doesn't want to look up, doesn't want to cry in front of her.

"Hey," she says softly, "It'll be okay."

He clings to that promise, as hopeless as it feels. He looks up and he sees Allison and she's like looking at a star when the night had been so bleak and dark.

Making sure to keep one hand holding his, she squats and picks up his bag, placing it on the bed.

"Keep packing," she whispers gently, "We'll go after him together."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible."

Their heads snap to the doorway of the Ares cabin to see a centaur standing just out of the threshold. For a man with hooves he was strangely adept at walking quietly.

"Both of you please come with me," he says before turning to leave.

The two lovers look at each other before slowly following.

They're in his office, feeling like school children about to be reprimanded by the principal. Chiron looks sad and tired and uncomfortable.

"I'm afraid something's happening," he begins.

Scott blinks and Allison's lips go taunt.

"Do you mean the strange things that have been happening?" She asks, "Like ordinary people seeing monsters?"

Chiron sighs and nods, "Dionysus and I have spoken with the gods and they've directed us to a source."

He turns to Scott. The Ares child breathed in sharply, eyes wide.

"You don't mean?"

Chiron smiles ruefully at them, "Unfortunately, I do."

Allison and Scott sneak off after grabbing some food and sacrificing a portion of their chicken pot pie to the gods. They eat quietly, taking comfort in their closeness and the peace of a starry night.

Footsteps alert them to someone approaching and they look up but don't bother to say anything.

Jackson, though, has no qualms about that.

"I heard the two of you were going on a quest."

Allison doesn't bother to respond but Scott glares at him, "So? It doesn't have anything to do with you."

Jackson scowls, arms crossed, "I want in."

Allison blinks doefully and Scott's eyes widen in surprise.

"Why?" He asks quietly.

Jackson sneers at them, "Stiles isn't the only one to have gone missing, but it's no surprise to me that you can't get your head out of his ass long enough to notice."

Scott scowls at him, taken aback by his vulgar language, "What are you talking about?"

"Oh right, I almost forgot. It's a wonder that you noticed Stilinski was gone at all considering that you haven't given him a second thought once Argent came into the picture."

Scott stands, shoulders squared, "Why should I let you of all people join us on the quest?"

Jackson squares his shoulders too before he just sort of deflates like a balloon with a hole in it, "Lydia's gone too."

Scott freezes and Allison stands behind him.

"What?" She exclaims.

Jackson sighs and looks dejectedly to the side, "I think she went with Stilinski," he says quietly.

Scott runs a hand through his hair and Allison is looking down at the ground.

"You really care about her a lot, huh?" Allison asks in that soft voice of hers.

Jackson nods.

Scott gives pleasing eyes to Allison but she only glares softly at him. Honestly, Scott understood where the guy was coming from. He would follow Allison to the Underworld and back. Still, this was the guy that picked on him and Stiles since the moment they walked into camp.

Allison glares harder at him.

Scott sighs, "Fine. You can come."

Jackson perks up.

"We leave tomorrow."