Peter is distantly aware that Derek thinks he did it on purpose. At some point between Peter telling him it was an accident at the hospital and Derek killing him at the broken remains of their home, Derek stopped believing him. Peter couldn't say he blamed Derek. Kate Argent had burned the humanity out of him; even he wasn't sure what he was capable of. Not that, though. Twisted and broken as he had become, the one thing Peter could never do is deliberately kill a member of his own family.
He remembered that night perfectly. How could he not? For a time, a very long time, Peter had remained trapped in that basement. It had been a family gathering. They had eaten and talked, wrestled and danced. And then they burned. Peter remembered it being loud. So incredibly loud as the flames swallowed his home and his family. Not loud enough, not for a werewolf. He could still hear the others crying out, even as he choked on his own agonizing pain. He remembers the smell too, pungent and horrifying as it cut through the smoke.
Peter had tried the door out of the basement first, to no avail. His sister had come to help force it open when it wouldn't budge. It was no use. Derek's father had pulled desperately at the bars on the windows. By then the flames were close around them. Everything was becoming muddled in the haze of pain and fear. Someone was already a charred, unrecognizable body on the floor before Peter remembered the tunnels. He'd stumbled out into them and found the small gate firmly shut. Eventually it gave way under his desperate claws. He'd gone back for the others. He'd cried out for anyone still alive in the tangle of orange flames and black smoke. He'd dragged the one person he could find back toward freedom only to have them wheeze their final breath just as it came in sight.
If he hadn't gone back things might have been different. He would have gotten out in time for his supernatural healing to make his body whole. He would never have killed Laura. Would he have felt less guilty then, not having her blood on his hands? Or would he feel more guilty thinking he'd left the others to die? It didn't really matter. He had gone back, and going back he'd broken.
There had been one blissful moment at the end of the tunnel where he'd sucked in air that was clean and felt the cool night breeze cut against his burned flesh, and then everything went dark. It stayed dark for a long time before he'd even started to awaken. And then he was trapped again, burning in that basement while the Argent woman laughed and his family died. Until something clicked into place one night and he breathed the clean air again under the full moon.
He'd hunted that first night, unable to fully shift and mostly unaware of his surroundings. He wasn't whole yet. He didn't even know who he was most of the time. He killed a deer. Maybe he'd meant to eat it when he'd stalked it, he wasn't sure even to this day. What he was sure of is what happened when his claws sank into its flesh. Another piece slotted into place, a piece that would define him from that moment on. The flesh became her flesh, the blood her blood. It was magnificent. It wasn't nearly enough. He carved the spiral into the animal's side as a warning, a promise.
He growled at Jennifer, his nurse, one night. He supposes that's how she figured it out. He growled and made a slight lunge at her because he wasn't quite right yet and she had looked just close enough, with her long, light hair and her sharp facial features. She hadn't been hurt, but she'd seen. She started sneaking him out during the full moon not long after.
Laura had been a mistake. He hadn't lied to Derek. He had reached a plateau in his healing. He was trapped somewhere between the flames and the moon and he wasn't quite Peter yet. He'd stumbled upon her in that state, not knowing himself, certainly not knowing her. An enemy, he'd thought, a wolf in his territory, a stranger. He hadn't really even been in control when he went after her. He hadn't known what he was doing. It caught up to him just a moment too late and still a moment too soon. She was defeated, on the ground, looking up at him pitifully. He was already mid strike when he saw her, recognized her. And then she was dead. He'd killed her. And he was Peter again.
He told himself Laura was Kate's fault, not his. He promised her he would get revenge. But he couldn't bring himself to bury her. Not with her eyes open and staring, looking utterly betrayed. He couldn't go near her body. It was a mistake. When they cut her in half and strung her up as bait he vowed anew to make all of the Argents pay.
But he needed help. Not Jennifer. She wanted the bite but she was more useful where she was, human and hidden. It might not take anyway, it worked better when they were young, when they hadn't quite settled into themselves. That was how Scott stumbled into everything. A teenager, asthmatic, and wandering around the woods just as Peter's hunger for revenge was at it's peak. Peter would give him the bite, help him, and in return Scott would help Peter.
Of course that's not how it went. Scott fought him at every turn, fell in with the Argent girl. And there was Derek as well. Derek, trying to teach Scott. Derek, encouraging Scott not to join Peter. Derek, getting in the way. He considered going to him, telling him what had happened. But Derek hadn't been in the fire, wouldn't understand, wouldn't forgive him for Laura. And Derek was too easy to find.
It wasn't until the school incident that Peter began to have doubts about Jennifer. Until then she had seemed nothing but loyal. But she had slipped the report about the deer onto Derek's windshield without his orders. She said it was to draw Derek off, make him suspect Deaton. She thought it might be better, since Peter had told her Deaton knew more about werewolves than most, if Derek thought he was the alpha. But that had led Derek and Scott and Stiles to the school. And if Peter wanted Scott, he needed Derek out of the picture. He hurt him, yes, but he didn't kill him. He still didn't get Scott.
And then Stiles was at the hospital when Peter hadn't expected him. He wasn't in the room when he needed to be, wasn't playing catatonic. He was going to kill Stiles, regrettable perhaps, but necessary. But then Derek was there, knocking Jennifer out with one cool blow and drawing Peter into a fight. Somehow he got Derek to join him, begrudgingly. It was enough.
When Jennifer came to she was furious. She wanted Peter to kill him; what good was he anyway? He didn't understand. He'd gotten in their way.
"Kill him like you killed Laura", she'd said.
"Laura was an accident." And that's when he'd learned the truth. Laura wasn't an accident. Jennifer had sent her the report about the deer. Jennifer had lured her into the woods. Jennifer had set her in Peter's path so that he could become the alpha and give her the bite.
"What happened to your nurse?" Stiles had asked.
"I got better," Peter replied cooly.
He hadn't, of course. Not really. But he didn't know that then. It took a few more months to really understand. He had clung so hard to his hatred for Kate that he couldn't get better. He thought taking his revenge would be enough, that once she was dead he could go back to being the man he was before she burned down his world. But then she was dead, his claw marks oozing blood from her neck, and he wasn't satisfied. He really had intended to let Allison go until that moment.
Derek wasn't going to kill him. He realized that when his nephew crouched over him and hesitated. But his flesh was on fire once more and Scott didn't have the right. He pushed him, needled viciously into his brain. It was all right if Derek killed him, he owed him that much. Besides, it was only temporary, and Peter would get a little of his own back later.
There was a lot of scheming while he was dead. A lot of scheming and a lot of manipulation. He almost felt bad too. Lydia was an astounding human being, the kind he really would have wanted in his pack if he'd had the choice. She was brilliant and manipulative. An equal. But using her was the only way to come back, so use her he would.
There was a lot of scheming while he was dead, but then he wasn't. It was more than a little confusing for Peter, coming back to life. There had been so many plans one moment, important plans for killing the rest of the Argent clan and teaching Derek and Scott why they shouldn't have fought so hard. And then the next moment he was alive and none of it mattered. Something new had slotted back into place, something he hadn't realized was still missing. He didn't feel consumed with hatred or the ever burning need for revenge. Death, and his subsequent rebirth, had washed him clean. He left Derek to recover on his own and began scheming anew. He'd gotten better, but in the process he'd made everything worse. He needed the right moment to rejoin Derek's pack.
And he found it, a moment of desperation that allowed him to step just a little closer. Derek begrudgingly listened to his advice, accepted his aid. And after that they settled into something new. They weren't pack by any stretch, but they were family still. It was strange for Peter, the way none of them trusted him anymore. The way he knew why but didn't. He could feel the difference between the alpha they'd killed and the beta that had been reborn but they couldn't. And what was stranger still, Peter could feel the difference from the man he'd been all those years ago and the man he was now.
He got better. But maybe there was still a little bit left to heal before he was done.
