Somewhere in the middle of a dim-lit station, dozens people sat on wooden benches, waiting for their trains to come in.  Dust covered nearly every inch of the building.  A ticket stand full of dust and cobwebs stood on one side of the room.  Everyone sat quietly as they waited for their train...that was never coming.  And neither of them knew it. 

Stiles sat at the end of one of the benches, quietly, staring out into space.  Till he's suddenly snapped out of his trace and looks over to the person next to him.  How did he get here?  When did he get here?  Where the hell was he anyway?  He couldn't remember much.  Sitting next to him was a woman.  A doctor with a lab jacket and a name tag with green scrubs.  She stared out into space as well as everyone else did.  Usually in stations, people nonstop talked.  Anything to kill of the boredom, but not one peep from anyone. 

He looks over to the wall and sees the arrival and depart boards.  Beacon Hills was on the Arrivals.  He knew he was from Beacon Hills, he remembers his name.  Who his parents are.  His friends.  He remembers everything, except how he got there.  He looks over at the ticket booth, no one was in there.  A 'Be Back in 5 Minutes' sigh was hanging on the window.  He looks around at the people.  A lot of people were just staring out, some were waiting, reading the papers.  Like they were waiting.  But, for what?

Stiles unconsciously grips on to a pair of keys.  He looks down into his hand and sees the keys to his jeep.  Ok, does that mean he drove there?  He doesn't remember.  He remembers...sitting in the jeep...talking to Lydia...and...nothing. 

He turns to lean close to the doctor next to him, "Excuse me."  He whispers.  "Sorry, where are we?"

"We're at the train station." She says simply. 

"Right.  Okay.  Helpful."  He nods, but... "Which train station exactly?"

She looks over at the sign, reading what the name above the board says, "Train station number 137.

Stiles frowns, he never heard of it, "Did you see me come in?"

"No." She shakes her head, giving him a small smile, then continues to look ahead. 

He couldn't understand it. 

"How long have you been here?" He asks.

"Maybe an hour?" She shrugs.

"We got here at the same time.  It's been at least six hours." The middle age man who sat next to her, reading his newspaper answers. 

"Six hours?" Stiles asks, incredulous.  "Where are you goin'?"

Suddenly, the woman frowns, she was at the station for a reason, she was going somewhere...she thinks, "Uh, uh..." She stutters and looks in her pockets for a ticket, "I had a ticket with me somewhere."

"Um...You always travel in your work clothes?" Stiles points out, referring to her lab coat and scrubs.

She looks down at her clothes, she was wearing her work clothes, she frowns deeper, "I must have been in a rush." That had to be the reason.

Stiles frowns and looks at the ticket booth, ticket.  The woman said she had a ticket.  She was there for six hours.  But, has it really been that long?  Something was really off.  He gets up and walks over to the booth.  He notices the thick coat of dust covering the booth.  He drags his fingers over the dust, staining his skin with dirt and dust bunnies.

"Do you know if anyone works here?" He turns to ask the woman. 

But, before she could answer, the intercom comes on and a woman's voice echos through out the station.

"The following stops have been canceled, Hollatine, Batten, Bay Burry, Deer Ridge, Red Oak..."

Everyone snap their heads towards the intercom and gets up to walk towards a dark tunnel.

Stiles tries to stop and talk to a few people.

"Excuse me, where are those trains going?" 

"...Trenton, Anderson, King Springs." The woman continues and no one stopped to talk to Stiles.  He follows the crowd towards the tunnel.

"Excuse me, do you know what train this is? Does anyone know where this train's going? Excuse me, do you know what train this is? Do you know where this train's going?"  He stopped several people, but no one would answer him.

He stops as he sees the tunnel with a big sign that said 'To Trains'.  He follows everyone's gaze as they look down the dark, cold tunnel.  He notices that leaves were covering the entrance of the tunnel.  Everyone who was at the front of the tunnel gasp softly as the cold wind whooshes in, blowing more leaves into the station.  Stiles snaps his head up as he hears the familiar sound of ghostly horses neighing in the distance.  He knew that sound. 

Suddenly, right at the end of the tunnel, a Ghost Rider gallops towards them all.  Stiles' eyes widen as everyone starts to run away in fear.  Clamoring as they watch the Riders ride in, carrying a person.  Several people bump into Stiles as they rush to hide.  But, Stiles was frozen to the ground.  He couldn't move as he watches the riders ride, smacking people in the face with their whips.   One rider drops the person on to the floor.  Stiles watches the man struggle with the ropes that held him, but suddenly, the ropes disappear in a cloud of green smoke.  Stiles snaps his head up as he sees the Riders galloping towards him. He finally moves away, backing up, but keeping his eyes on the riders. 

He gasps as he feels someone grab him and pulls him out of the way, slamming him against a beam. 

He lets out a hard pant and his eyes widen as he sees his savoir.

Glaring down at him with a sneer, "It had to be you." Peter Hale snarls.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The crowd continued to clamor as the Riders galloped around the station, then heads back into the the tunnels.  Their horses neighing echoing till they faded into the darkness.

Then, as if nothing happened, everyone went back to their seats.  Peter lets go of Stiles with a irritated huff and goes back to his bench. 

Stiles follows him, stuttering in confusion, "Peter? Peter, what are you doing here? How are you here?"

Peter looks at him weirdly, "What do you mean how am I here? I'm here.  You are here.  We are all here.  Now, get the hell away from me, Stiles." He grits out and sits on the bench. 

Stiles squints at him in confusion, why is everyone so calm?  Men on horses literally tore through here, dropping that guy off with ropes and he's just dusting off his clothes and sitting down like nothing happened.  What the fu...?

"Hey, Peter.  Peter. Peter!" Stiles snaps his fingers in Peter's face to gain his attention, "What are you doing?"

"I'm waiting for my train." Peters says, obviously.

"Okay, did you not just see that?" Stiles says.

"See what?" Peter scoffs.

Stiles frowns at him, "The horses, the hogtied businessmen with the magically dissolving ropes?"

Peter looks around and back at Stiles, confused at what he was talking about.

Stiles lets out of huff and turns to the crowd, "I'm sorry, did anyone just see that?" He shouts, his voice echos through the station.  Everyone looks at him with deep confusion.

Peter rolls his eyes, "Do you mind? You're blocking the board.  I'd like a little warning before my train arrives."

Stiles looks at the board, trains.  They all believe they're waiting for trains.  Why?

"Okay.  So you're waiting for a train. How did you get here?"

"Pretty sure I took a cab."

"Last time I saw you were being locked away in Eichen House."

Suddenly, flashbacks to that night of his admittance, the night where he met Dr. Valack.  The terror he felt.  The madness.  He remembers, and Stiles could see as a angry glare forms on his face.

"I was in Eichen.  Thanks to you.  and your friends."

"Memory's good." Stiles says sarcastically, "Can you remember how you, uh, got out? They discharge you?" He asks.

Peter frowns and shakes his head as he begins to remember, "No, the power went out.  And I ran like hell."

"That's it? You just ran?" Stiles exclaims in disbelief.

"Yes, that's it.  I literally just ran away from the insane asylum that was holding me hostage!" He snarls.

"Hostage.  Right.  Ok, after you ran, what else?" Stiles asks.

Peter thinks back around the time he escaped, he remembers the blackout, he remembers the patients turning on the doctors.  He was free.  He found clothes and a car.  But...there was a storm...and...

Peter snaps his eyes open as he begins to remember some, but pieces of his memory was missing.  He looks around the station in confusion, "How long have I been here?" He asks Stiles who sat on the bench, leaning on his knees.

"The lockdown was three months ago."

Peter looks at Stiles in disbelief and shock, "I've been missing for three months and no one came for me?"

"That's what the Ghost Riders do, they erase you." Stiles says.

"Ghost Riders? Ghost Riders of the Wild Hunt?" Peter's eyes widen.

"Yeah, you know what I'm talking about?" Stiles asks, hoping for answers.

Peter sighs and sits on the bench in front of Stiles, "Of course, I know what you're talking about.  They ride the lightning.  They are an unstoppable force of nature."  He laughs out a scoff, "But, I promise you, they don't make pit-stops in train stations." He says sarcastically.  He looks over and sees an old lady looking at him with loving eyes.  He sends her an awkward smile back.

"I've escaped one prison only to land in another one.  And this looks like the underground lair of a depressed bureaucrat."  Peter mutters bitterly.

Suddenly, a man's chuckle erupts from behind Peter, they both frown and follow the laugh. 

"Well, well, well, never thought I would hear the day of you ending up in Eichen House.  Wish I could have seen your face." A man says as he reads a newspaper. 

Peter frowns at that voice, recognizing it.  But, it was physically impossible.  He slowly gets up and Stiles, who was confused with Peter's body language, follows him.  They both stand in front of the man. 

"Tell me...what were you in for?  Terrorizing the town?  Eating children?  Oh, no, don't tell me.  Killing.  I bet.  Was it for power...redemption...or good old fashion revenge?  I heard about the fire.  My condolences.  Especially, to Talia.  Wonderful woman.  Did you ever find out who did it?" The man asks.

Stiles frowns as Peter glares at the paper. 

"Who are you?"  Stiles asks.

Peter snarls and snatches the paper out of the man's hand, his eyes widening a little as he stares down the familiar face that he hasn't seen in over 12 years. 

"You gotta be freaking kidding me?  Why are you alive?"

The man sighs and crosses his legs, "What's wrong, Hale?  I thought you would be happy to see a familiar face."  The man pouts. 

"I was happy when I heard about you being shot and killed.  Seeing you here alive....ish, that just pisses me off." Peter grits out.

Stiles watches the two of them, seeing some familiarity at the unknown man, but he couldn't remember that much.

"Well, seeing you here, alive, surprises me.  You were always one hell of a manipulative bastard and a psychotic wolf, I'm surprise no one has killed you yet." The man says sarcastically.

"Believe me, he was, but...he resurrected...by manipulation." Stiles trails off. 

The man looks over at Stiles and smiles, getting to his feet, "Stiles Stilinski." He chuckles and pulls him in for a hug. "I haven't seen you since you were 6 years old." The man pulls away and sees Stiles' confusion, but he simply laughs. "I can see you don't remember me.  I wasn't the greatest person anyway in life.  But, that's all in the past now." He sighs and pats Stiles' back. 

"How do you know me?  Are you from Beacon Hills?" Stiles stutters.

The man smirks, "I use to live there, but moved to Tennessee with my wife and daughter."

Stiles' squints at him and realizes who was, "No."

The man smiles, "Nice to see you, too, Stiles."

"But, you..yo..you're dead." Stiles stutters and backs away to stand next to Peter. 

"Apparently not." Peter sighs in frustration. 

"Tell me, gentlemen...how's my daughter, Josie, doing?"