Peter isn't fond of concepts like good versus bad, or right versus wrong. He lives in a moral gray area that is centered around survival, and he thinks that's the most honest way to look at it. You can pause every time you make a heavy decision, and you can factor in how it might affect every last person involved, or you can let your self-preservation instincts kick in and you can simply act.
He doesn't think that's anything to find fault with. Of course, people get hurt. His methods get called into question often, a fact that irks him, but he understands that it's a necessary inconvenience. The call to the side of the righteous is difficult for most to ignore, and the urge to forever wear the white hat can be hard to resist.
And to Scott, it's a siren song. It will surely find him dashed upon the rocks in time, but he can't seem to turn down an opportunity to be the hero. It's admirable, Peter admits, but ultimately self-destructive.
Still, there's a bit of rapt fascination in Peter's expression whenever he watches Scott. This boy that he turned, this boy who would've been his beta, exhaling goodness and ceaselessly fighting on behalf of others and generally being in a way so polarized to Peter's own existence that it makes his mind reel.
Peter watches the others, too. The way they look to Scott for leadership more than Derek. The way they seem all at once relieved and worried to find out that Scott is an alpha. Like maybe they finally have the leader they've always wanted, but then they realize how large a target it puts on his back. True alphas are a hot commodity, and they are most certainly deemed a threat.
Peter stands by as even Derek begins to orbit around Scott, and yes, he might even feel a little bit of a pull himself. He said he'd never swear allegiance to another alpha, not even his own nephew, unless they were worthy. But sometimes, looking at Scott, it's hard to keep arguing that he's not.
It's that stubbornly intrusive notion that finds him face to face with Deucalion, clawing and snarling with staggeringly unprecedented inefficiency. Deucalion is stronger, faster, and more capable. And Peter doesn't feel bad about it, because he'd be the strongest alpha around if he'd absorbed as many betas as Deucalion had.
Peter knows going into it that he'll be unevenly matched, and there's an ever-present part of him, the survivalist part, that screams for him to do anything else but charge in fangs-bared.
He charges anyway, and it's not long before he's met by the sick crack of bone and the warm slosh of blood as he's dashed upon the rocks of his own siren song.
Scott frees Melissa, sending her off down the hallway with a bow-wielding Allison, and turns his attention to Deucalion. Peter attempts to get up, but finds that he can't make his legs work. He watches from his position face down on the cement floor, writhing in his own blood as he tries to will his body to mend itself enough that he can fight.
He disappoints himself.
Scott's a better match for Deucalion than Peter, and that's not surprising at all. It's probably Deucalion's main motivator; get Scott to pledge allegiance to his authority, or kill him before he gets a taste of how powerful he's capable of being.
Peter thinks that maybe Scott already knows, but it doesn't matter because Deucalion is slashing his claws down Scott's back and the boy goes down hard with a pained snarl.
Peter can't move. Can't help him. Can hardly think. This is what he'd always envisioned would become of Scott, tragically done in by his own need to rush into danger. Now that it's happening, though, Peter can't right himself with it. He claws the cement, opens his mouth and lets out a desperate howl, and it's enough to turn Deucalion's focus back to him.
"How touching," Deucalion says, looming over Peter with a snarl of a grin. "Perhaps I'll kill you first. Make your alpha watch as I spill what's left of you."
Peter lets out a humorless chuckle followed by a cough that sprays blood, but he smiles, too.
Because Scott isn't on the ground anymore. With one swift motion he lunges forward, drives his claws through the demon wolf's heart, and twists.
Deucalion falls to the ground in front of Peter, spurting blood and looking genuinely shocked at the turn of events.
Peter watches the life leave him.
Scott staggers forward, out of concern for Peter or as a result of his own injuries, Peter can't be sure. He collapses halfway on top of Peter, and it's not at all sentimental when Peter's fingertips swipe at the blood from a gash on Scott's forehead before it has the chance to get into his eye.
He's not expecting Scott's hand to catch his and keep it pressed against his face, but it does. They don't move until the cavalry arrives, wielding bandages and concern and the news that the rest of the alpha pack had been neutralized with Ethan's help.
They could've died, but they didn't. Sometimes that's true, and other times it's not. Peter had spent his entire life operating under the assumption that abandoning his self-preservation instinct would be the same as welcoming death.
And maybe that's exactly what he did.
But wearing the white hat seems decidedly less hopeless when you've got a siren to sing you through it, and Peter's song still has him by the hand.