Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12216750.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Hale/Corrine_(Desert_Wolf), Derek_Hale/Kate_Argent, Derek_Hale/OMC_
      (Sammy)
  Character:
      Peter_Hale, Derek_Hale, Talia_Hale, Kate_Argent, Laura_Hale, Cora_Hale,
      Papa_Hale, Sammy_Johnson_(OMC), Cousin_Tommy_(OMC), Coach_Owen_Bonaheim_
      (OMC), Corrine_(Desert_Wolf)
  Additional Tags:
      Young_Peter, Young_Derek, Mild_Language, Set_Precanon, Consensual
      Underage_Sex, Statutory_Rape, Violence_(Sometimes_Graphic), Canon
      character_deaths, Background_Character_Deaths, Unhealthy_Coping
      Mechanisms, Self_Harm_(Brief), Hale_fire, Kate_Argent_Warning, Desert
      Wolf_Warning
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-09-29 Chapters: 5/5 Words: 11076
****** I Scream God Forgive Me Please ******
by gremlins-came-and-got-me_(Scared_Beings_in_the_Dark)
Summary
     Fifteen year old Peter enters a relationship with Corrine (aka the
     Desert Wolf) which results in the conception of Malia. Talia
     intervenes, as alphas are wont to do, and the family is able to live
     relatively happily for ten years. Then, history tries to repeat
     itself when Derek, now fifteen, takes up with Kate Argent.
Notes
     Title is from of Verona's Dark in My Imagination.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Part the First (1995) *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
    -----------------------------------------------------------------------
                             Part the First (1995)
    -----------------------------------------------------------------------
He dresses slowly, thinking that it should have been better, been more fun.
Instead, he watches her out of the corner of his eye as she blows lazy smoke
rings at the ceiling while he pulls on his socks and shoes.
He looks from his beat up sneakers to her low-heeled black pumps and thinks,
sophistication. He wonders why she chose him, a gangly fifteen year old with
too-long hair and facial hair that just won’t grow.
She’s got a wax, the only hair on her body the ones on her head and a shaped
thatch. Sophisticated. Seriously sophisticated. She’s got her diploma from a
nice school while he’s trying out for the JV team.
“So,” she says, propping herself up on an elbow, “you weren’t bad for your
first time. Don’t think you get to do me without a condom all the time now.”
Condoms, he thinks, a little dizzily. Coach had shown them how condoms worked
only last year. He still doesn’t know how they work exactly, and it doesn’t
seem like she really cares to have them if she let him stick his dick in her
without covering first.
Besides, it’s not like he can give her anything. Except babies.
And he’s pretty sure he’s sterile.
Most of the males in his family, the ones born with the Hale last name, are.
The females, though, can sit on semen and pop out a baby. That’s how his nieces
and nephew were conceived. He’d watched his sister inject herself with a turkey
baster of ejaculate and nine and a half months later he’d had a tiny thing
wailing at him from her arms.
Her husband isn’t infertile, just unable to maintain an erection long enough to
satisfy his wife. And, no, it isn’t weird to be spying on his sister when she’s
trying to make babies, whether it’s with an almost impotent husband or a
strangely erotic turkey baster.
Okay, maybe it is a little weird.
Still, he’s seen porn. He thinks he was bad, and she’s just being polite enough
to tell him he wasn’t.
“Wanna go again before you leave?” she asks, like he hasn’t got everything back
on, tugging at his jacket to straighten it before he heads outside to his
bicycle.
“No thanks,” he replies. “I’ve got to get home. My sister is expecting me.”
--
When he opens the door to go home, he’s met by a young body flinging itself
into his knees.
“Jesus, Derek,” he says, scratching at the boy’s hair. “What’s gotten into
you?”
And then Laura comes running down the stairs, a pair of scissors held
triumphantly aloft.
Derek whimpers and makes grabby hands at him until he picks him up.
“Don’t run with scissors,” Peter admonishes Laura, mostly because that’s what
his sister does when she catches her brats doing things she doesn’t like. Laura
pouts and puts them away. Derek sighs happily, fingers already going to his
mouth while he tugs on Peter’s earlobe. “Don’t,” he says sharply, grabbing
Derek’s sticky hand. The boy stares balefully at him before pulling his hand
free and tugging on his own earlobe.
“Five years old,” Talia says from her seat at the kitchen island. Peter does
not startle. He doesn’t. “Derek, you know better than to put your fingers in
your mouth.” She waves at Peter and then glares when he dumps her tot into her
lap. “I was busy,” she points out, indicating the spread of papers in front of
her.
“And I need to do homework.”
“Can I help?” Laura chirps brightly. She’s climbing the shelving in the living
room to grab her art case. Peter shakes his head, but Talia gets a gleam in her
eye and nods.
“Oh, and be a dear and watch Derek for an hour or so,” she says, shoving the
boy onto the floor so he can run after them. “And Cora’s down for a nap so make
sure they stay quiet.”
Derek babbles quietly when Peter picks him up again. He blows a raspberry on
his favorite—and only—nephew’s chubby baby-cheek. Derek giggles before
returning the favor with far more spit than makes Peter comfortable. At least
Laura, eleven and haughty, just raises an eyebrow and follows him upstairs to
his room.
Peter dumps Derek on his bed, lets the boy curl around his pillow, pudgy
fingers poking at his mouth while Peter digs his backpack out from under his
bed where he hides it when he doesn’t want Talia to go through it. This time,
it’s because Corrine stashed a box of condoms in the outside pouch.
Laura raises her eyebrow again. “Mom knows you’re having sex. She just thinks
it’s with a girl your age.”
Peter doesn’t respond. What’s there to say anyway? He doesn’t like the girls
his age because they are just that. Girls. Corrine is sophisticated and smart
and she wants to have sex with him.
He’s no longer a virgin.
Derek babbles quietly again, around his fingers, groping under the pillow until
he pulls out the flashlight Peter uses to read at night when Talia won’t let
him have his lamp on.
“You really should use your words, Derek,” he tells the boy, pulling out his
biology folder and book and sitting at his desk. “Also, Laura, I don’t care
what my sister knows. She’s having sex with her husband too.”
“Duh,” Laura says, and Derek chirps, “Sex!”
“Oh, that you’ll say,” Peter groans. “Now be quiet, I’ve gotta finish my
worksheet.”
--
At school the next day, he finds his cousin Tommy leaning on his locker, doing
one-fingered push-offs. Peter ignores him.
“Dude,” Tommy says, pretending to be breathless for the sake of the other
students. Peter ignores him harder. “Dude, bro, dude.” Tommy smacks him. “So,
who’s the chick you’re banging?”
“It was once and it was a mistake,” Peter mutters, slamming his locker shut.
“Now fuck off before you draw any more attention to your boneheaded self.”
He walks away, ducking into first period English to avoid Tommy.
All throughout the day, he finds himself unable to concentrate, wondering when
or even if Corrine wants to see him again. He’d smelled something odd about her
yesterday, but he doesn’t know enough about smells yet to identify what it was.
Although, Jenny, from homeroom, sits next to him at lunch and she smells sort
of like Corrine did. On Jenny’s other side, her best girl friend plops into her
seat and says, “So, you’re ovulating, right?” to Jenny.
Peter blanches. He remembers Coach stating that girls ovulated when they were
most fertile. He thinks of the condoms that Corrine didn’t give to him until
they’d already fucked. That he didn’t even know she’d put in his bag until
after his semen was already loose inside her.
“Oh, sorry, macho man,” Jenny’s friend, Amber? Ambrose? Titters. “Forgot guys
don’t like to talk about natural stuff.”
“That’s not it,” Peter says, staring down at his sandwich. Peanut butter and
marshmallow fluff. Ugh. But that’s what he gets for letting Derek make him
lunch. He wraps it again and tucks it back into the paper bag Talia makes him
reuse until it falls apart and she gives him another one.
He needs to talk to Corrine.
Talia will probably get a call about him ditching, but he decides it’s too
important to wait and sneaks off campus the minute the overweight guard isn’t
looking.
Corrine is still at the same motel, and she looks delighted to see him.
She’s just as dressed up as yesterday with a slinky black dress and tall heels
on.
“Ready for round two?” she asks, reaching around to unzip her dress.
“Are you ovulating?” he asks, and she freezes. “You are, aren’t you? That’s why
you let me do it without a condom. You want to get pregnant.”
She laughs, finishes taking off her dress. She’s naked underneath. “Maybe,” she
says. “I’m infertile, and you’re sterile. We make a perfect pair. Now, come on,
I’ll even let you pick the position.”
Peter shakes his head. “You’re ovulating. You smell just like a girl at
school.”
“Oh, Peter, do you really want to go back to high schoolers when I’ve just
opened the door to your world?”
He looks down at his clenched hand. He doesn’t not want to have sex again. He
just doesn’t like being tricked. “Fine,” he says, dropping his backpack by the
door and toeing off his sneakers. “But I’m wearing a condom this time.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
--
Leaving again is the same; he dresses and gives a lame excuse of having to
watch his nieces and nephew instead of going round two, part two. He doesn’t
really know how to feel about it. He’s certain she’s just fucking him because
he’s fifteen. He doesn’t think he was any better this time.
Talia is waiting by the door when he comes in, and she inhales loudly when he
passes her. “Who’s that?” she asks, pointing at the couch. He sits and folds
his hands in his lap.
“Just a classmate,” he lies, but he’s lied to her so much that she can’t tell
if his heartbeat is right or not. At least, she’s never called him on it. Cora
comes crawling from the kitchen with Derek following on his hands and feet.
Derek boosts his sister onto the couch and climbs up after her, tucking against
Peter’s side and sighing softly. Cora babbles until Talia picks her up while
Peter hugs Derek.
“Just a classmate that you’ve given yourself to?” Talia says, critically. “That
you left in the middle of the school day to meet with?”
“Sex!” Derek chirps. Peter frowns down at him, but he’s oblivious, humming
something under his breath and giggling every few seconds.
“We couldn’t wait,” he lies more. “Young love.”
“Sex,” Derek repeats solemnly and Peter shushes him.
“Where did Derek learn that word?”
Peter shrugs. “Laura, probably.”
“And where did Laura learn that word?”
Again, he shrugs. “She’s eleven. Maybe someone at her school?”
Talia acquiesces with a small nod. It helps that Laura’s classmates are a bunch
of little assholes running around playing ‘Mommy and Daddy’ with each other.
Just the other day Laura was sent home for punching a boy in the penis when he
dropped trousers in front of a group of girls.
“Mama,” Derek says, around a thumb he’s sneaked into his mouth, “Mama, pizza?”
Talia shakes her head. Pizza is for special nights when everyone’s been good.
Peter thinks they won’t have it again anytime soon if Corrine has her way.
“Za!” Cora shouts and promptly bites Talia’s breast.
Derek giggles into his hand before sighing loudly.
“What’s wrong, Derriere?” Peter asks. Derek shakes his head and fits another
finger into his mouth, slobbering all over his hand, drooling onto Peter’s leg.
“Five years old, Derek,” Talia says. “Fingers out of your mouth.”
“’m hungry,” Derek mumbles. “And don’t call me butt names.”
Talia laughs, reaching out to ruffle Derek’s hair and earning the biggest scowl
the boy can give her. “Fine. I’ll call Papa and see if he can pick up some
pizzas for supper tonight.” She fixes Peter with a stare. “This conversation
isn’t over yet,” she says. Then she sweeps off with Cora on her hip, leaving a
mostly-asleep and still drooling Derek clinging to Peter.
If anyone were to ask Peter, he’d say he minds this very much, but in reality,
Derek isn’t just his favorite nephew; he’s his favorite relative.
But no one ever asks Peter.
--
Peter doesn’t bother going to school the next day.
Instead he goes to the motel again, surprised to find Corrine still in the same
room. She grins at him when he slips through the window.
She’s naked, spread out on the bed, feet planted so her hips are raised, a
thick purple dildo nestled inside her pussy.
Peter blinks at her when she beckons him. “Come help me, big boy.”
He glances down at his crotch, flushing in embarrassment. Coach had, when
pressed, said that male’s penises don’t stop growing until they finish with
puberty, which is as early as next year for Peter, or may not happen until he’s
21. Either way, what he has is small even by small standards. It’s a wonder
Corrine even let him get anywhere near her with it when she’s got something
easily the size of a baseball bat lodged in her cunt.
“Just push and pull,” she instructs, “I promise, you’ll get the hang of it.”
He kneels on the bed next to her feet and reaches out to touch the dildo. It’s
sticky and spongy and it stinks like plastic. But, she moans nicely when he
jerks it out a few millimeters and pushes it back in gently.
“Harder,” she says after a few seconds, and he obliges.
She keeps making him increase the speed until he’s ramming it into her faster
than he can fuck.
He watches fascinated at the natural lubricant spilling from her as he works
the dildo.
Later, he blames the hypnotizing way the toy moved in her for why he missed a
tiny body crawling up the side of the building, through the open window, and
plopping onto the floor.
He freezes though when he hears someone sniffle and mumble, “Sex?”
Corrine freezes too. They both turn to stare at where Derek is sitting cross-
legged under the window, staring up at them with teary eyes.
“What the hell?” Corrine mutters darkly. She gropes at the bedside table
drawer, yanking out a small handgun. Peter feels his heart clench and then he’s
moving, shoving the dildo into her as hard as he can, rewarded by her sharp cry
of pain, and jumping off the bed to grab Derek and leap out of the window.
He doesn’t stop running until he’s home, bursting through the door, screaming
for his sister.
Derek is wailing, has been since Corrine pulled the gun. Talia and James both
come running, their protests that both kiddies are down for naps dying when
they take in what Peter’s sure is a frightening scene—their only son red-faced
and unable to breathe for his shrieks and Peter himself, wild-eyed and panting,
barely able to spit out Corrine’s name and ‘gun’ and ‘help’.
James takes Derek and whisks him away, probably to where Peter can hear Cora
starting to cry too.
Talia leads him to the couch and pushes him down. “What happened?” she demands,
asserting Alpha dominance to calm him enough so he can breathe steadily. It
must really be killing her to entrust her son to someone else right now, even
her own mate.
“Corrine,” Peter says, “she has a gun. She pulled a gun on Derek.”
“Who is Corrine?”
“She’s who I’m having sex with—who I was having sex with,” Peter says. Her
drops his eyes down and offers his throat to Talia, fully prepared to have her
rip it out.
“Young love?”
He winces. “Not exactly. She’s 22.”
The wave of anger rolling off Talia increases and he risks a peek at her. She
isn’t looking at him, instead her gaze is fixed on a portrait of her
grandmother, the one who passed on the Alpha power to her. “And she pulled a
gun on Derek?”
Peter nods. “He interrupted us. I want to say she was startled, but she’s a
werecoyote. She would have been able to tell he was just a boy.”
“Or a werewolf that she didn’t invite. Derek has trouble shifting still, but
his scent is strong. And you think she’s coming here?”
“She would have tracked him; I didn’t exactly leave false trails. I got lost
once.” Not lost enough, he’s trying to say, not when his priority was getting
back to the safety of his Alpha.
“Fine. We’ll be ready. Go upstairs and stay in Laura’s room. James will bring
both Derek and Cora once they’ve settled a bit. I’m going to get Laura. Do not
come out unless I tell you to.”
He nods to show he understands. She hugs him tightly, kisses the top of his
head.
“Thank you for saving my son,” she says into his ear, too soft for any of the
others to hear. It might just be why she hasn’t ripped his throat out yet.
“Oh, Peter,” she says when he tries to stand up. “One more thing.”
Pain.
He cries out and slumps, darkness swallowing him before he can do anything
else.
    -----------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter End Notes
     This story features underage relationships, both consensual (between
     Peter/Corrine and Derek/Sammy) and dubious at best (between Derek/
     Kate). Read at your own risk, but please, if I forgot a tag, let me
     know. Thanks.
     Also posted at my Tumblr.
***** Part the Second (1995) *****
    -----------------------------------------------------------------------
                            Part the Second (1995)
    -----------------------------------------------------------------------
When Peter wakes up, Derek is curled half under his arm, the child snuffling
into his side. Peter also has a headache that fades quickly when he tries to
focus on it. It’s replaced by the nausea from the clinging scent of dried
blood. Peter glances around but cannot immediately locate a source for it.
Cora is sitting next to him, on the opposite side from Derek, chewing on his
fingers.
Gross.
She bites hard, and he hisses at her.
He sits up, letting his niece crawl into his lap so she can spread more slobber
on his hand.
Derek moans softly, turning into his leg and whining when he can’t find his
other hand.
“Wake up, Derriere,” Peter says, brushing his unoccupied hand over Derek’s
head, snagging a few tangles of sweat-soaked hair. Derek whimpers and opens his
eyes. Luminous. None of the other children have James’ kaleidoscope eyes that
reflect even a glimmer of light.
Derek pushes at Cora until she lets him into Peter’s lap.
“No butt names,” Derek reminds him. A flash of red on Derek’s collar catches
Peter’s eye. He sniffs it and confirms it smells like blood. So does the back
of Derek’s neck. Peter traces a finger over it and Derek shivers.
“Derek, bud, where’d you get the blood from?” He has an idea, something he’s
only read about and never seen.
Derek shrugs. “I just woke up,” he claims. And okay, yeah, Peter knows this. He
reaches up to rub at the back of his own neck. A quick sniff reveals traces of
blood on his fingers too.
“Talia!” he spits.
“Mama!” Cora cries, delighted. Derek looks worried, frowning. It’s an odd
reaction to have to his mother.
“Derek, did Mama do something to you?”
Derek shakes his head and hides his face against Peter’s chest. “Don’t know,”
he mumbles. Peter guesses he feels the same wrongness he does. Talia took
something from them, as their Alpha, and now he can’t remember what it was.
It makes the fear clenching his heart numb. But, when he stands up to go to the
door to look for his sister, Derek and Cora clinging to him, he finds a note
stuck to the paneling.
Stay inside.
Talia’s handwriting.
The audacity!
Peter seethes but since he’s holding the babies who refuse to let go of him, he
doesn’t think he has much choice in the matter. His sister did say she was
bringing Laura here too, right?
He can still hear her saying, “One more thing.” Was the removal of the memories
‘one more thing?’ Or was it Laura?
See? This is why Peter doesn’t like Talia. For being his Alpha and head of the
pack, she really doesn’t share much information. Sometimes it seems like Laura
knows more about her mother’s politics than Peter does, and he’s supposed to be
her right hand until Laura is of age (sixteen like he was supposed to be too).
He drops Derek onto Laura’s bed, where he bounces, fingers in his mouth, eyeing
Peter worriedly. “Mad?” he asks, muffled around his digits. Peter ignores him.
He throws Cora there too, and she just giggles, tumbling over the sheets as she
scrambles to the edge just so Peter can do it again. Derek reaches out a hand
lightning fast and jerks her back onto her diapered bottom.
“Peter?” Derek says, the syllables barely intelligible around his fingers.
“Will you stop fucking talking with your fucking fingers in your fucking
mouth?!” Peter yells at him. For a second it feels good, to be able to do that,
and then Derek’s eyes fill with tears and his chin wobbles and he starts
sniffling. Cora cries with him.
“I’m sorry,” Peter says quickly, sitting on the bed and opening his arms so the
babies will come to him. Derek just stares at him and sniffles harder. Cora
relents and lets Peter hug her. “I really am sorry, Derriere.”
The door opens before Derek can remind him not to call him that, and Laura
steps inside, her backpack hanging off one shoulder, a grim set to her face.
There’s dirt smudged over one cheek, and she looks unhappy.
“Mom’s really mad,” she says, letting the bag fall and holding her arms wide.
Derek wriggles off the bed and runs to her to let her rub his back and kiss his
forehead. She glares at Peter when she realizes that he’s crying. “Corrine came
to my school,” she continues, awkwardly shuffling with Derek until they can sit
at her desk, Derek on her lap.
He takes one of her hands and puts her thumb in his mouth. “Fingers,” she says
absently but she doesn’t stop him from sucking.
“Hey, Laura, can you smell anything odd on Derek?” Peter makes a show of
sniffing Cora’s neck and shrugging. Laura narrows her eyes at him but dutifully
smells the back of Derek’s neck.
She straightens up, glaring, anger rolling off her in waves. Derek whimpers and
clenches his hands on the armrests of the chair.
“Why is there blood on him?” Laura demands.
“Ask your mother.”
Laura sniffs again. “Claws?” she asks. Derek whimpers again, and Laura makes a
noise of shock, sliding him off her lap and onto the floor.
“Oh, shit,” she says, staring at her brother. Peter gapes too. The acrid scent
of urine spreads from the boy while they both stare at him dumbly.
“Sorry,” Derek mumbles, red cheeks and wet eyes. He puts his fingers into his
mouth.
“Oh,” Peter says softly. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re fine.” He stays sitting on the
bed though, unwilling to actually touch Derek. Laura has no such compunctions
and wraps her arms around her little brother.
“It’ll be okay. We’ll get Mom to apologize.”
“It’s Talia,” Peter says, just as the door opens and his sister steps in.
“Hi,” she breathes, eyes going red. Cora squeals and clambers off the bed to
toddle to her. She raises her arms and Talia scoops her up. Derek hunkers down,
shoulders going up to his ears while Laura steps around him, protective. Peter
stays on the bed feeling vulnerable without even a child to shield him from
what’s sure to be a horrendous wrath.
“Mom,” Laura says, voice vibrating with suppressed fear. Talia looks uncertain
at the way her children refuse to look at her. “Mom, what did you do to Derek?”
“I took a traumatic experience from him,” Talia says. “Look at him, he’s doing
fine.”
“He pissed himself,” Peter says. “How is that fine?”
“Don’t start,” Talia snaps, stepping toward the bed. Cora cries out as she’s
jostled.
Peter decides he doesn’t care if Derek gets him wet; he’s not confronting his
sister without some form of protection. He moves faster than she can and grabs
Derek’s shoulders. He pushes Laura in front of him too.
Talia growls. “Want Cora too?” she snaps.
“I wouldn’t need shields if you hadn’t already proven that you can’t be
trusted.”
“I should have ripped your throat out when you admitted to endangering my
children.” Cora wriggles against her and bites her on the breast. Peter stifles
his shocked giggle in Laura’s hair. She glares at him. And then turns that
anger on her mother.
“You hurt Derek,” she says, crossing her arms. She glances back at Peter and
shrugs. “And Peter too.”
“I just took something they didn’t need,” Talia says.
“Memories,” Laura counters. “Derek’s scared of you now.” She pushes her brother
forward, and Derek whines and hunkers back. He outright cries when Talia
reaches for him. The odor of urine strengthens again, and a new puddle forms.
“Derek,” Talia says, and he whimpers.
“Did you really think you could do that without consequence?” Peter demands.
“That you could harm your own child and have him still trust you?”
“I fixed your mistake,” Talia says. “I fixed it. You don’t get to blame me for
hurting my son. It was the best thing for him.”
“It was a gun,” Peter protests. “He hadn’t seen anything traumatic. He would
have been fine. Instead, you decided to steal his memories of it. Hell, you
don’t even know how much you took, do you?”
“I only took what was needed!”
“But how do you know?”
“Because I saw it as I took it! Think, Peter! Do you remember anything of why
we’re here?”
Peter stops. He knows someone held a gun on Derek. He can remember the blinding
fear he felt when he ran, and he knows Laura said the name. But, the more he
tries, the more it slips away. He frowns at his sister. “How much did you take
from me?” He can’t quite recall the last few days. It unsettles him. No wonder
Derek keeps pissing himself.
“Mom?” Laura says.
“Ma!” Cora repeats, biting Talia again.
“What did you do to Corrine?” Laura asks. “Did you take her memories too, or
did you kill her?”
Derek shivers under Peter’s hand, and he leans down to nuzzle at the back of
his neck, to let him know it’s okay. Talia looks furious.
“You have no right to ask me that,” she says, eyes definitely alpha red. She
focuses her glare on Peter. “If you ever come near my family again, I’ll kill
you.”
“Like you killed Corrine?” Peter snaps. Talia’s face closes off, her alpha eyes
fading back to brown.
“I didn’t kill her,” she says. “I couldn’t—there was a condition.”
“You don’t care that she used me,” he accuses. “All you see is that your little
family was in danger. Why were they in danger? Because Corrine was startled and
pulled a gun on your son? Why weren’t you watching him?”
“I did what I had to do,” Talia says, but she sounds defeated instead of
furious. She sighs, rubbing at her face. “I’m going to feed Cora now. Laura,
find your father, have him give Derek a bath.” Laura looks between her mother
and Peter before heading for the door. Talia watches her go before turning back
to Peter. “And, Peter?”
He doesn’t respond.
“You can stay, but you’ll have to earn my trust again. No more skipping school.
And no more relationships.”
Peter doesn’t say how unfair that is. He just nuzzles against Derek’s hair
again, reminding himself that his sister can and will hurt her loved ones for
no reason. He’ll be eighteen soon enough anyway. He can leave then. Or maybe he
can challenge her for her alpha power. He’ll decide when the time comes.
For now, though, Peter picks Derek up and carries him to where Laura and James
are already filling the tub with strawberry scented bubbles for Derek.
    -----------------------------------------------------------------------
***** Part the Third (2005) *****
    -----------------------------------------------------------------------
                             Part the Third (2005)
    -----------------------------------------------------------------------
Derek catches the basketball Sammy chucks at him, spinning it on his fingers as
he walks. Coach’s ban on bouncing the balls before practice is somewhat
effective (although, Derek talked to him, and got him to back off so they can
use the hallway by the gym—and music room—if no one else is around and they all
have a free period).
Of course, Derek didn’t have the negotiation skills needed, so Uncle Peter had
to step in. Despite being seven years removed from high school, Peter still
roams the grounds like he belongs. College, although stimulating, was not
enough for him. There’s a restlessness in his bones that only being near his
nephew seems to settle. (He attributes it to thinking of Derek as his first
beta.)
Of course, Talia has noticed, so Peter does his best not to be at home where
she’s trying to fix him up with that airheaded bitten wolf from the Amos pack.
No offense to her (the airhead, not his sister), but the imposed moratorium on
his sex life has made him slightly bitter and unsuitable to a quick romp in the
hay.
As the years go by (not slowly, but not fast enough), Peter recovers more
memories that his darling sister stole.
He has no doubt that she will do the same to Derek that she did to him as soon
as her son discovers the joy that is kissing a pretty girl.
Like the one that hides in the music room practicing cello with a precision
Peter can appreciate.
He subtly nudges his nephew to choose that particular hallway instead of the
one by the greenhouse (which remains unused as all funds go to sports and
sport-related things, especially the new beast that is the lacrosse team).
Derek is still obedient as always even as he starts asserting that he’s his own
person. Case in point, when Peter sinks to the bench across from his nephew,
Derek turns his back and starts chucking wasabi peas at another table.
Whatever. Peter has a meeting with his financial advisor later today. He just
wanted to scent Derek before heading out as the beta always calms him. (Talia
doesn’t approve of scenting, but Peter always points out that she runs her
hands over the back of Derek’s neck before she lets him leave the house. The
least she could do is let her brother sniff her nephew’s neck.)
It’s possible that Peter’s definition of affection has been skewed by the
events from ten years ago, but he’s not holding his breath for his sister to
apologize. There’s a reason James became the second until Laura was of age five
years ago.
“Derek,” Peter says sharply. Derek looks back over his shoulder. He must see
something in Peter’s face because he stands up and circles the table, dropping
down onto Peter’s back and smashing his face against his neck. Peter reaches up
and runs a hand through his hair.
“Thank you, dear nephew.”
Derek doesn’t say anything, but he returns to his seat and actually eats some
of his lunch (still packed in the stupid brown bags Talia likes to use).
Someday, Peter will convince Derek to buy the school’s lunch. It’s not as bad
as Talia likes to make it out to be. As long as he doesn’t eat too much of it.
Peter remembers the first time he had cafeteria pizza his senior year. All his
friends bought him a slice and he ended up being sick in gym. Coach hadn’t been
too pleased then.
“So, the girl?” Peter asks. Derek whips around to glare at him.
“What girl?” he demands.
“You know very well what girl, Derriere.” Derek scowls at him and ducks his
head to hide the embarrassed flush of his cheeks. “She likes you too, you
know,” Peter continues. He smirks to himself at the way Derek’s eyes swing to
the cellist’s lonely table.
“She does?”
Peter nods, sneaking the apple from Derek’s lunch. “Indeed, nephew.”
Derek narrows his eyes at him. “You’re lying.” He takes back his apple right
before Peter can sink his teeth into it. Shame.
“She does too,” he says, indifferent. Derek sneaks another glance at the girl.
“I don’t know her name,” he admits. “And she doesn’t like me at all.”
“Really? Why hasn’t she confronted you about your distracting behavior then?
Surely someone with as much drive as she would find your need to bounce spheres
indoors tiresome and obnoxious.”
Derek raises an eyebrow. “Spheres?” he questions. “Just say balls like a normal
person, Peter.”
Peter plucks the apple from Derek’s lax fingers and bites it before the boy can
steal it back. “Balls,” he says, which inexplicably makes Derek giggle. “And
that is why I do not say it.” Peter has perfected sophistication. Now he is the
Corrine of the school, could have any girl here with a snap of his fingers.
But, he doesn’t want just any girl, and certainly not the Amos airhead. He
wants Corrine and he does not know why.
“Balls,” Derek repeats quietly to himself, giggling again. He rattles his
wasabi peas at Peter, offering them.
“No thank you.” Peter eyes the cellist again, finding her to have her nose
firmly entrenched in her history textbook. Ah, a fellow intellectual. Derek may
hide behind his jock friends, but there is still the little boy who loved
learning inside. It gives Peter an idea of how to help his nephew. He grabs
Derek’s wrist before he can leave to throw away the rest of the atrocious food
Talia insists he eat. “Derek, listen, here’s how you’ll get her name.” He
outlines his plan quickly, and Derek looks skeptical. But, as Peter points out,
the girl hasn’t actually interacted with Derek yet. If he wants her to pay
attention to him, he needs to abrade her, make her mad and then surprise her.
“Yeah whatever,” Derek says, running off before the bell can ring to dismiss
him.
Peter smirks down at the apple core. Derek will get there, he’s certain, and
then he’ll have to listen to his nephew crow about it all damn day. Oh well,
there are worse things in the world.
He stands up to throw away the core and wash his hands, and as he passes the
teacher’s table, he catches a familiar scent. His head snaps to the side and he
stares at the assembled teachers—the new swim coach, the new lacrosse coach,
and a new-but-familiar face. Long, dark hair, chocolate-colored eyes, flawless,
tan skin.
His skin itches with knowledge that isn’t making it out of his brain. He tamps
down on a growl and stalks away.
He should know her. He should!
It’ll come to him, it always does.
For now, though, he’s late for his meeting.
--
Thoroughly distracted by both his meeting and the familiar stranger at the
school, Peter walks into the house and immediately is hit in the chest by a
backpack.
Derek then grabs his shoulder and hauls him around. “Let’s go,” he says out of
the corner of his mouth. “Mom’s pissed and she’s bitching about you.”
Peter lets himself be led outside and into the woods. It seems they’re heading
for the root cellar. “Any idea why she’s mad?”
“Apparently someone she told not to come back to town came back,” Derek says.
He jumps over a fallen log and ducks under the lowest hanging branches of a
grand Douglas fir. Which means, he’s crawling on his hands and knees in who
knows what animal shit. Peter has more class that than, not to mention his
jacket and shirt cost more than Derek’s whole existence to this point.
“Did she say who came back?” Peter swears getting information from Derek is
like asking a Magic 8 Ball—predesigned answers that mean nothing.
“Depends,” Derek says, cryptically. Which, Peter cannot deal with. He grabs
Derek by the back of his stupid t-shirt and spins him around so that he can
slam him against the nearest tree.
“Did your mother say who came back to town?”
Derek frowns at him. “She didn’t tell me, but I overheard her talking to
Laura.”
“Laura’s back too?” Peter asks. Derek shrugs.
Laura is studying at college now, a senior in her third year. She’s staying
with a neighboring pack closer to Sacramento (which is a twenty minute drive
from her campus). If Laura is home this close to midterms, then something is
definitely happening. And Derek is too wrapped up in his own insignificant high
school world to be of any use to Peter.
Peter presses his arm over Derek’s neck, imagining for one second what it would
be like to steal his life away. Of course, Talia would kill him the moment he
did, but it makes Peter feel more powerful, and the wide, scared eyes Derek
flashes only make him want to press harder.
“It’s Corrine,” Derek gasps out. “Mom said it was Corrine.”
Peter jerks back, memory slotting into place. He curses Talia’s meddling for
taking the face from the name. Yes, she’s older, but that sleek teacher sitting
at the table with the others? That’s definitely the woman he lost his virginity
to.
“Peter? Who’s Corrine? Why does Mom hate her?”
Peter barely hears the question over the roaring in his ears. Corrine is back,
but why? What purpose could she have? Surely she knows that Talia will kill
her, especially if she comes after Derek again.
“I don’t know. Your mother deemed it important to take my memories from me.”
“She can do that?”
“God, are you really that stupid?” Peter grabs the backpack and tears it open,
searching through the granola bars and apples and bug spray Derek stashed on
top of his folders and books. He resolutely ignores the hurt look and scent
coming from his nephew. He doesn’t have time to apologize for hurting Derek’s
feelings.
“Is that why Mom doesn’t trust us?” Derek asks in a small voice.
“Yes,” Peter says distracted before what the boy said sinks in. “Wait, what?
Your mother doesn’t trust you?”
Derek scuffs his shoe on the ground, drawing a line over and over again. “No,”
he mumbles around what sounds like his dropped fangs. “She never has. She says
I’m too much like you.”
“That’s not always a bad thing,” Peter says. He holds the bag out to Derek, but
he doesn’t take it.
“You attacked me,” Derek reminds him. “You choked me and called me stupid. You
can’t make me happy again by pretending to be good to me again.” Derek pauses,
thinking. “Have you ever truly been good to me?”
“I—” Peter doesn’t have any words. Derek huffs and snatches the backpack.
“That’s what I thought.” He stalks away, still heading for the root cellar.
“Shit,” Peter says to the trees. He jogs to catch up to his nephew. “Derek,
wait, stop.” Derek doesn’t. “At least tell me, did my advice work with the
girl?”
At that, Derek stops. His scent goes sweet, and Peter has no doubt that he’s
smelling love. “Her name is Paige,” Derek whispers. “She did get mad at me. And
then I used your suggestion.”
“And now you have a name.”
“But Corrine is back in town and she’s going to ruin everything.”
“How so?” Peter throws open the door and ushers Derek down the stairs. Behind
the tangled knot of roots, they keep a couple of sleeping bags for when Talia
gets really mad at Peter and banishes him from the house. Lately, Derek has
been sneaking out and keeping him company.
Together, they lay the bags out and then Derek tosses a granola bar at Peter.
They sit in quiet and chew.
“It smells weird down here,” Derek says, softly.
Peter inhales and nods in agreement. He can smell some cologne that is neither
his nor Derek’s. They wear minute traces, enough to mask any body odor, but not
too much to drown out their sense of smell. This is someone drenched in it, to
mask their other, natural scents.
“Hunters?” he wonders out loud, and Derek turns to him with a frightened
glance. “No, I don’t think so.” What would hunters be doing in Hale territory?
None of them have violated the ‘Code.’
“Peter,” Derek says.
“What?”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I won’t if you tell me everything your mother said.”
Derek lies back, kicking his feet up so he can rest them on Peter’s back. “She
said Corrine is back for something she left behind. Then you came home.”
“You are the—” Derek claps his hand over Peter’s mouth.
“Don’t call me stupid or useless or dumb,” he growls. “Just because you don’t
value me doesn’t mean I’m not important.”
Peter wrenches Derek’s hand away from his mouth and slams him back down, claws
in his chest while he roars in his face. Derek shies away, whining and writhing
beneath Peter’s hand.
“Don’t ever presume to tell me what I can and can’t say,” he snarls. Derek nods
almost frantically, pulling away and crawling behind the tangle of roots. He
sniffles quietly, and the sharp sting of tears makes Peter feel a little
guilty. The blood on his hand makes him feel a lot guilty.
“Derek?” he calls softly.
Derek ignores him.
“Come on, I wasn’t going to call you stupid. I wasn’t.”
Derek refuses to look at him.
“I’m sorry,” Peter finally says. Derek looks up, glaring at him in disbelief.
“Don’t look at me like that. I am sorry.”
“I don’t accept your apology,” Derek says, even as he hugs him. Peter brushes
his nose against the boy’s hair and doesn’t point out that Derek forgave him as
soon as he stopped smelling of anger and sadness. Derek still isn’t happy,
Peter knows, but there is nothing they can do about it now.
“So, you packed a bunch of provisions for us like those old books you used to
make me read you, huh?” Peter says, chucking at Derek’s chin. “How long are we
planning on staying out here?”
Derek grabs Peter’s wrist and squeezes, not fully strong enough to do more than
make the bones creak. It still hurts, and Peter pulls away.
“Today is Friday,” Derek says. “If Mom doesn’t come for us, we’ll be out here
the whole weekend.”
“What about homework?”
Derek gestures at his backpack. “I did most of it during study hall today just
so that I could practice this weekend.”
Oh, yes, that’s right. Derek’s following in Peter’s footsteps and vying for a
position on the JV team.
“And was I supposed to help you practice?” Peter asks.
Derek shrugs. “I was gonna ask,” he mutters. Peter laughs and wrestles him into
a pin before letting him up so he can lie down on the sleeping bags. “Will you
shoot baskets with me tomorrow?”
Peter pulls out a another granola bar and tears the wrapper off, cramming half
of it in his mouth before saying, “Yes,” and spraying crumbs everywhere.
Derek brushes off his shirt. “Cool,” he says quietly before crawling into one
of the bags and zipping it over his head.
Peter sighs, packs away the backpack, and climbs into the other bag. “’Night,”
he calls. Derek grunts, the last noise he makes before he starts snoring.
Shortly after that, Peter allows himself to drift off.
--
Talia finds them in the morning just as they’re taking leaks at opposite trees.
Derek’s backpack is hanging off Peter’s shoulder, and he has promised to help
Derek shoot baskets this afternoon after Peter heads into town under the guise
of meeting with his financial advisor again.
Really he’s going to search for Corrine. And he thinks Talia knows that and
that’s why she’s currently standing behind him, claws in his shoulder while he
shakes his dick off before tucking himself away.
“May I remind you that your son is only fifty feet away?” Peter hisses when she
digs in harder.
“And may I remind you that you are not allowed near my son without
supervision?”
Peter reigns in his snort. “I’m not the one he was terrified of for ten years.”
It’s a low blow, but it works to make Talia release him.
“Mom?” Derek asks from behind them, his voice small, scared.
“Yes, baby?”
“Are you mad at me?”
Talia’s face smooths into calm, the pinched look fading somewhat while she
opens her arms and lets Derek seek comfort. “I’m not mad at you,” she says.
“And what about Peter? Are you mad at him?”
Talia doesn’t have to answer. The way Derek is holding onto her, there’s no way
he can miss the spike in her scent or the rise in her heartbeat.
“Peter didn’t drag me out here,” Derek says, like that’s the reason Talia is
angry. “I made him come with me. I wanted to camp.”
“But you didn’t want to be alone,” Talia finishes. “Why didn’t you ask one of
your sisters or me to come with you?” Why Peter? remains unasked.
Derek pulls back and scuffs his shoe on the ground. “Laura’s always busy being
your second, and Cora’s eleven. And you never want to spend time with me
anyway. Peter’s the only one who wouldn’t mind.”
“Baby.” Talia reaches for Derek but he steps back. That pinched look comes over
Talia’s face again. She turns to Peter. “I want you out of my house by
tonight.”
“I’m not the reason your son is afraid of you,” Peter reminds her, and she
snaps, fangs glistening with dripping saliva, eyes red and dangerous.
“Yes, you are,” Talia says around her elongated teeth. “You’re the one that
slept with that bitch. You’re the reason she’s back now.”
“You’re the one who altered the memories of a five year old!” Peter shouts
back. He is tired of always being her scapegoat. If something goes wrong, like
Cora spilling an entire jug of orange juice onto Laura’s senior project, it’s
his fault for not watching her closely enough even though Talia doesn’t trust
him with her children anymore. Ten years of it is enough.
“Burn my things,” Peter tells her. “I won’t be home.” He’s already moved most
of his things to the vault anyway. There isn’t anything important left at her
house. The most important thing he would take, Talia won’t let him have anyway.
Peter turns on his heel and marches away. Stupid, stupid mistake. Talia lands
on his back and sends him sprawling. Her claws dig deep in his back and he
howls his pain, kicking and flailing his arms until he catches her chin with a
lucky blow.
Her jaw dislocates, and she climbs off him to reset it. Derek hauls Peter up,
throwing his arm over his shoulder and helping him hobble away from Talia.
“Hurry, hurry,” Derek pants, all but dragging Peter back to the root cellar.
“She can still reach us,” Peter reminds him right before Derek tips him down
the stairs.
Talia’s roar echoes, the sound of it reverberating in Peter’s ears. Derek kicks
something on the forest floor and then dives through the trap door before it
shuts with a loud bang that muffles the outside world.
In the sudden stillness, all Peter can hear is the blood dripping from his ears
and the heavy breaths he and Derek take. The light, gray and drawn, like a dawn
without sun, does little to inhibit his vision.
“What’s that?” Peter asks. “What did you do?”
“I had Sammy rig some mountain ash to the lid. It’ll keep Mom from being able
to get to us.”
“Yeah, but that also means we’re trapped down here.”
Derek taps the side of his nose and crawls to his backpack. He digs through one
of the outer pockets and produces the cell phone Peter bought him a couple of
months back when Talia refused.
He punches in a number from memory and then holds it up to his ear while it
rings.
“Yo,” some dopey kid says.
“Hey, Kyle, mind getting Sammy for me.”
“Who’s this, buttface?”
“This is Derek, as in kick-your-ass-Derek. Get your brother now, farthead.”
“Right away, your majesty.” Kyle hangs up. Peter lets out a little wheeze of
amusement. He’s still in pain in more ways than one—falling down the stairs
means he got splinters in his open wounds, and everything is healing sluggishly
because the injuries were inflicted by an alpha, one who apparently has already
kicked him out of her pack. Bummer.
The phone rings again before Peter can tease Derek about his interaction with
Kyle, and this time the voice on the phone is easily recognizable as Derek’s
best friend, Sammy.
“—told you not to take my phone, fucker.”
“I’m telling Mom you called me fucker.”
“Oh yeah? Prove it, buttmunch.”
“Sammy!” Derek interrupts, shooting a surreptitious, guilty glance at Peter.
“Hey, remember when I said I get stuck sometimes?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m stuck. In the secret clubhouse.”
Peter rolls his eyes. Trust Derek to take a secret between them and make it a
secret between many people. It’s no wonder his mother was able to track them.
“Oh, cool. I’ll be down in about thirty minutes.”
“Don’t bring Kyle,” Derek says. Sammy snorts and hangs up.
Derek turns the phone off and puts it back in its pocket. Then, he takes out a
high beam flashlight and unsheathes a claw.
“Let’s get you healing now,” he says, shining the light in Peter’s eyes. “We
have half an hour to make you appear human.”
“Joy,” Peter murmurs, but he obediently rolls onto his front and lets Derek
play doctor.
    -----------------------------------------------------------------------
***** Part the Fourth (2005) *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Derek briefly self-injures himself during a conversation
     with Peter. Starts at "Do you want me to?" and ends at "And you did,"
     Peter breathes...
    -----------------------------------------------------------------------
                            Part the Fourth (2005)
    -----------------------------------------------------------------------
Peter loves his new apartment.
It’s spacious, large, empty, and all his.
Of course, he lets Derek stay with him sometimes.
And sometimes Derek brings that infernal Sammy with him.
Talia always calls on the landline she insisted Peter install, asking if her
son is coming home today or not.
More often than not, Peter lies and says Derek is staying the night. He doesn’t
know where the boy goes, nor does he care right now.
He’s been meeting Corrine for coffee after school, and by the time he gets
back, his apartment smells like Derek and spunk and that Sammy kid and some
light, flowery perfume he doesn’t recognize offhand and guesses belongs to
Paige the cellist. But, it’s always empty.
Derek picks up after himself because Peter finds the empty cans in the recycle
bin and the dishes are always wet in the drainer but the boy himself is never
there on weekdays.
Corrine claims that he has another new friend around school but she refuses to
tell him who. Instead, she talks about the baby she gave up for adoption.
Peter’s baby. The miracle baby that proves Corinne wasn’t infertile and that
Peter definitely wasn’t sterile.
“Your sister made me,” she says once. “Made me carry to term and then put the
baby up for adoption. She never told you about her and she wouldn’t let me
abort her.”
Peter can’t get her to talk about what it felt like carrying his child, knowing
that if Talia hadn’t wiped his memories he probably would have ripped her
throat out for threatening his blood.
Hell, he should have ripped her throat out for what she did to Derek.
Instead, she talks about the girl’s new family and how best to get to the now
almost-ten year old. Honestly, Peter doesn’t listen to half her crazy rambling.
She’s still a good fuck and he’s gotten better in the years since she first
took his virginity—even though mostly he just practiced with his own hand or
improvised toys. Besides, if she really were still a threat, Talia wouldn’t let
her exist in her territory.
He does agree to accompany her to the Tate home to see if the girl looks like
him.
On a whim, he asks Derek to accompany him, dropping down at the school to catch
the boy.
Derek stares morosely at his tuna sandwich while Peter steals his homemade
potato chips. The cellist isn’t at her usual table, and if Peter concentrates,
he thinks his nephew smells off, like sadness dipped in extra strength. Come to
think of it, Derek’s smelled wrong for about two months now.
“It’ll be fun,” Peter cajoles. “Just like old times.” Derek doesn’t look up.
“Maybe it’ll help take your mind off Paige?”
At that, Derek does look up, the anger rolling off him in waves and that
strange sadness spiking. And his eyes turn blue.
Blue, blazing blue, just like his father’s when he was forced to put that poor
beta of the neighboring pack down.
“Derek, where is Paige?”
His nephew drops his sandwich and pushes away from the table. He stomps away,
heading for class but Peter can smell the guilt.
He calls Talia and demands an answer.
He doesn’t get it.
--
The perfume smell is stronger in Peter’s apartment, and he searches until he
finds the source, a spilled bottle of Ecstasy in the guest room. Derek is
there, head hanging off the bed, his friend Sammy thrusting lazily into his
throat. Derek is naked while Sammy is still fully clothed.
Derek either hears or smells Peter enter the room, and tilts his head farther
so he can open electric blue eyes to stare at his uncle. Sammy takes it as some
kind of challenge and begins thrusting in earnest, choking Derek on his dick.
His nephew isn’t hard, but he is leaking fluid, streaking his thigh with clear
pre-ejaculate.
“Out,” Peter orders Sammy, grabbing the boy by the back of his neck and jerking
him away from Derek.
“Hey, we’re okay, we’re cool,” Sammy protests. Peter does not care. He throws
the kid out into the hallway with his dick still sticking out and cooling from
Derek’s saliva.
When Peter gets back to the bedroom, the door is locked and he can hear Derek
struggling with the window.
A light shoulder tap and the door opens.
“Sit.”
Derek turns back from the window and perches on the edge of the bed. He’s still
naked. Peter scoops up his t-shirt and throws it in his face. Sullenly, Derek
pulls it on.
They stay in silence for nearly ten minutes before Derek finally manages to
make eye contact with Peter. A muscle jumps in his jaw and he runs his hands
through his hair, making it stick up in spikes.
“Are you going to tell my mother?” Derek asks. Despite his werewolf healing,
his voice is still rough-sounding, revealing just how hard or long Sammy was in
him.
“Do you want me to?”
Derek glances away, flexing his hands, digging claws into his knees.
“I killed Paige,” he says instead. “The Amos alpha bit her and it didn’t take.”
Strips of flesh peel back with his fingers. Bone shows through. Peter reaches
out and touches his hand, stopping the path of destruction. Derek looks up,
eyes shining with unshed tears. “She was in so much pain. She begged me to end
it.”
“And you did,” Peter breathes, pulling Derek into a tight embrace. He is his
father’s son through and through. Peter only hopes that he doesn’t keep
following in his father’s footsteps and kill himself. “Where is the girl?”
“In the root cellar. Mom knows about her. I couldn’t keep the change a secret.”
Peter doesn’t doubt that Talia has already taken care of the girl’s body. What
he wants to know is why is his nephew seeking out destruction in the form of
punishing sex. Why doesn’t his mother tend to him now?
“Where does Sammy fit in this?”
Derek shrugs, picking at the dried blood on his fingers. “He offered to help me
lose my virginity so that the teacher would leave me alone.”
A cold shock sits in Peter’s stomach. “A teacher?” he asks. A new friend, he
thinks. Corrine knew and she didn’t do anything about it because…because this
teacher was exactly like her: fucking an underage kid that could get her sent
to prison.
He glances at the perfume. Derek tracks the motion and frowns. “It was
Paige’s,” he explains. “We use it to help mask that Sammy smells like me when
he leaves.”
Peter ignores that. Instead, he demands, “Which teacher?”
Derek shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. I liked Sammy’s cock better than her
pussy. I don’t think she took it well.”
“Derek, who is she?”
“The new swim coach.”
The phone in the other room rings, and Peter points a finger at Derek. “Do not
move,” he says sternly.
“Can I at least put on pants?” Derek asks.
Peter doesn’t respond, leaving the door open. “Hello?” he says into the phone
even though he knows there’s only one person in this forsaken town that
actually knows and calls his landline.
“Where is Derek?” Talia demands.
“He’s here. He’s fine.” He hopes she can’t hear the way Derek’s heartbeat is
stuttering badly from the doorway. Peter glares at him to remind him he told
him not to move.
“I’m on my way to get him. Do not do anything to him.”
“I won’t,” Peter says, aggravated. “Why do you always think I do something to
him?”
“Because I know you, Peter. I know the things you do and think about doing.”
She hangs up and Peter cradles the headset.
Peter has never done anything to his nephew that warrants her suspicion. If
anything, she’s done worse things, like steal his memories and cover up the
cellist’s murder.
“Her name is Kate Argent,” Derek says suddenly. “The teacher.”
“I know who the new swim coach is,” Peter snaps. “You actually slept with an
Argent? Are you stupid?”
“No,” Derek says defensively. “She pressured me, and I thought it would be okay
but it hurt and I didn’t like it.”
“Wait, what? I thought you said you penetrated her. Why would that hurt you?”
Derek shrugs. “The condom hurt. It…burned. And it made me rash up. Sammy
thought it was a venereal disease so we got it tested. Acute aconite
poisoning.”
“She put wolfsbane in the condom? Are you okay?”
“’m fine.”
“Listen, you need to tell your mother about Kate Argent. It’s important. The
Argents are hunters, and since your eyes are now blue, that means that you’re
their target.”
Peter smells the moment Derek understands just what kind of trouble he’s in.
It’s the same moment Talia bursts into the apartment. She inhales deeply and
growls, eyes going red, claws coming out.
“I’ll kill you.” She lunges at Peter, but Derek gets in her way, wraps his arms
around her, and holds on tight. Peter stares in semi-awe. When did Derek grow
taller than his mother? How, as a beta, is he able to hold back his alpha?
“It wasn’t him,” Derek says. “My friend and I, we’re together.”
“He’s been targeted by an Argent,” Peter says. As much as he trusts Derek to
protect him, he trusts Talia’s instincts as a mother and a werewolf more.
“An Argent?” Talia pulls back to study her son’s face. “Derek, honey, why is an
Argent after you?”
Derek looks to Peter for advice and Peter nods at him.
“She wanted to sleep with me but she tried to poison me.”
“She’s the new swim coach,” Peter adds. “I only found out about this myself.”
“We have to get back to the house. It’s not safe out here. Peter, take Derek.
I’m going to patrol, to make sure that bitch isn’t anywhere near our family.”
She leaves as quickly as she came.
Peter sighs. He’s still an omega, still apart from his pack. He’s surprised
Kate didn’t come after him first. But, then he remembers, one of his coffee
dates with Corrine, a grinning blonde with too much chlorine clinging to her
skin for her scent to be read. She’d approached and struck up a conversation,
but Peter was in the middle of listening to Corrine talk about the fact that
she’d had his baby and he’d ignored her.
That was Kate Argent, he’d bet. And she did approach him first. When he wasn’t
available, she went after the next male Hale. And with Derek’s dad’s death,
that left just Derek.
Oh god, this is his fault.
He’d even noticed her sitting at the teacher’s table when he would go talk to
Derek.
If he’d been less wrapped up in Corrine, he would have been able to see what
was going on with Derek.
“It’s not your fault,” Derek snaps, in the middle of stuffing shirts and pants
and undergarments into a suitcase. He ducks into the bathroom and comes out
with a handful of soaps and shampoos and Peter’s toothbrush. “I was stupid,
you’re right. I let her get to me. I let Sammy get to me.”
“Sammy pushed you to have sex?”
“He put me on a ledge but I jumped of my own volition.”
Peter stops Derek and wraps him in another hug. “Just because you jumped, it
doesn’t mean it’s your fault either.”
“I know,” Derek says, but his scent and heartbeat betray him. All Peter can do
is hug him tighter.
--
A few days after Talia found out about Kate Argent, the woman is run out of
town, kicked out of the school and forced to make a tactical retreat.
No one believes for a moment that this is the end of it, but it’s nice to see
Derek go from a pinched, angry face back to his somewhat normal self.
Of course, Peter thinks that’s because he’s regularly getting a good fucking
from his friend. Talia allows it only because Sammy is the same age as Derek,
maybe a few months older at the most. They still use Peter’s apartment, but at
least they don’t do it when he can catch them. Not that he spies on them at
all.
A few days after that, Corrine corners Peter at their old coffee shop. She
chatters incessantly about their daughter and her right to raise her and blah
blah blah. Peter stops her, says, “You wanted an abortion, remember? At least
this family loves her. Leave them alone.”
Corrine slaps him with weaker than he remembers strength and storms away.
Peter lets her go and doesn’t miss her. He visits the Tates on his own, gets to
know the girls, his daughter’s name is Malia and she’s nine and a quarter. Her
younger sister is shy but allows Peter to play tea with her and her dolly. It
reminds him of when Derek went through a phase like this.
The Tates encourage him to seek a relationship with his daughter and he
reassures them at every turn that he doesn’t want to take her away from them.
He does warn them about Corrine, but it appears that she’s disappeared too.
Derek shrugs and says they have a new teacher for her too. And he says the
vodka-soaked chemistry teacher smells like secrets.
Things are normal, things are good. And then it all goes to shit again.
--
Everyone is here. Everyone except Derek and Laura who are at the high school
where Derek has a game.
Even Tommy and his wife and two sons drove up from Phoenix for this, this
funeral of sorts. The real funeral was yesterday, and Peter still feels numbed.
He knows the only reason Derek went to the game was because Sammy was playing
and as his boyfriend, he has to support him. Peter wishes Derek would have
chosen him instead.
Talia settles Peter into a chair and lets her clawed hand hover over the back
of his neck. The family gathered around them gasps lightly, awed at witnessing
a ritual rarely seen. Peter wants to snap at them.
“Don’t do this, please,” he begs his sister. He doesn’t want to forget his
child. He doesn’t want to forget that Corrine succeeded in killing her own
daughter. Peter saw the car, heard the children screaming, and then go silent.
Could smell the death under the blood.
He didn’t see his sister rip out Corrine’s throat, but the scent of blood on
her clothes was a good enough indicator of what she’d done.
Peter wishes she’d let him take his revenge.
“Please don’t take my memories,” he says, softer. Talia’s claws enter his neck,
and he goes rigid, hissing in pain as she probes.
He sees Malia’s face, sees Corrine’s face, sees Sammy fucking his nephew, and
then they’re gone, and he’s back in the chair blinking tears and sweat from his
eyes. He knows he just lost a piece of himself. He wants to attack, but he’s
just an omega and Talia has proven time and again that the only reason he is
still alive is because she doesn’t want to kill one of the only things her son
loves.
“I hate you,” he tells her.
“I know.”
The others are silent now, and between breaths and heartbeats, Peter hears a
crackle.
“What’s that?” he asks Talia.
She cocks her head and scents the air, her eyes widening. “Fire!”
After that, it’s a mad scramble. All the doors on the first level are blocked
shut and no matter how much strength he or Talia or Tommy expounds, they cannot
open them. A solid mountain ash barrier lies across the stairs, blocking the
werewolves from going upstairs, and it is nailed down so the humans can’t
remove it.
Peter shares a look with Talia. The basement. It’s their last hope.
But, as soon as they all crowd down there, heading for the tunnels, Peter
realizes it was a mistake.
The door has been replaced with a mountain ash one and the tunnels are blocked
with mountain ash barriers. Through the little grated window, someone, a
hunter, probably Kate Argent herself, pours an accelerant down into the room
with them, a flare following quickly.
Fire. Flames and smoke and fire and heat and pain. And the screams start.
Peter frantically scans the room. There has to be a way out. They can’t die in
their own house on their own land. They did nothing to these hunters.
Even Derek with his misguided help for the cello-girl did nothing to these
people, these murderers.
It takes minutes but feels like hours for the screaming of his family to cease,
for them to realize that no one is coming to rescue them, that they are going
to die here.
Selfishly, Peter crowds by the window. The residue of the accelerant sticks to
him, and he thinks there must be wolfsbane in it because it burns with a
different kind of pain than the flames.
Through the bars, Peter can hear Laura yelling, fighting the deputies’ hold.
Beside her, sobbing uncontrollably is Derek.
The last thing Peter sees before he passes out is his sister, Talia, engulfed
in flames, settling down into her full shift, waiting for death as an old
friend.
If only he could be so gracious to accept its willing embrace.
--
Peter wakes up in the hospital one thousand five hundred and seventeen days
later and wishes he hadn’t.
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                                      Fin
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***** Bonus: Cover *****
Sources located at Tumblr
Image generated in Microsoft Word® and Paintbox®
End Notes
     This story features underage relationships, both consensual (between
     Peter/Corrine and Derek/Sammy) and dubious at best (between Derek/
     Kate). Read at your own risk, but please, if I forgot a tag, let me
     know. Thanks.
     Also posted at my Tumblr.
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