Peter Hale winced as he tried to control his ever increasing heart rate, eyes locked on his nephew as the younger werewolf...or 'former' werewolf,strode around the expanse of the loft gathering weapons and books full of supernatural information while the bounty hunter stood perched by her brood of guns on the table.

Though he knew that he could never say it, it worried Peter. It worried him to hear Derek's effortful grunt as he lifted objects that should be weightless to them; to see his clawless hands wrapped around the cold metal of a gun that would be so easy to simply knock out of his grasp.

Yes, knowing the violence that was to come, Peter was worried about his nephew.
"I'll go down to the Sheriff's station- see if I can snag us any more firearms." Braeden announced, standing straight as Derek trudged over to her.

Peter pushed down the stab of envy as his nephew's hands slipped easily around the woman's waist to rest gently against her spine while her calloused hands ran up his arms as the young man chuckled, "You know that Sheriff Stilinski doesn't actually know about this crazy mission, which will sound even crazier coming from a bounty hunter that he's never even been told about."
"No," Braeden agreed, a smirk on her lips as the sunlight set her dark skin aglow, "But will he have time to consider the craziness of it all when a US marshall comes running in, flashes a badge and insists on weaponry for a nearby squad in order to detain a murderous gang that's been on the run for a decade?"
Derek grinned, and Peter felt jealousy send a twitch through his skin.

"Fair enough." the dark haired man shrugged, pressing his lips briefly to Braeden's before she reluctantly pulled out of his arms and strode down the steps and out of the door, not even sparing a glance towards Peter, who finally stepped out of the shadows towards his nephew, still trying to fit the pieces in his usually lightning fast mind. When did his sister's son grow from the short-tempered, self-loathing, brooding kid who thrived on anger that he had known only a short time ago when he first regained his senses after the fire? When did he become a man at peace with himself, even without his hereditary abilities? There was no lust for power in Derek. There was no resentment towards Scott, even though the young alpha had taken what should surely belong to 'their' family. No quite the opposite, Peter found that his nephew seemed to have adopted an advisory role, a mentor if you will. And Derek was content with it. At the idea of being in his nephew's position, Peter found his body involuntary shuddering from the inside out.
"Peter,"

The older man jumped slightly as he was met with a pair of large, soft hazel eyes.

'So much like Talia,' he thought, not for the first time. But it was Talia's softness, her contentment in just letting things happen, that got their entire pack, their family, slaughtered.

"Why are you doing this?" he murmured, brow furrowing.

Derek raised a dark eyebrow, folding his strong arms over his henley, "What?"
Peter sighed and looked around the room, "Why are you going? Without you're powers you don't stand a chance, Derek."
The younger man scoffed, "You'd write me off so easily?" but Peter could see the slight layer of fear in his green eyes. He could hear his heartbeat jumping.

"While you're human against berserkers and kitty-cat-Kate, yes dear nephew of mine- I'd give you three minutes survival at most, two of which you would be bleeding out on the ground." he grumbled.
The corner of Derek's lip twitched upwards in a smirk, and it reminded Peter so much of his sister that it hurt, "I never knew you cared so much for my well-being." then he shrugged his broad shoulders, "It doesn't matter what happens- I'm not important right now. The pack needs Scott. He's the alpha, and he's a friend."

Peter narrowed his eyes, taking a step forward and folding his own arms, "And just who's pack are you in now, Derek?"
His nephew held his gaze with admirable strength, though the pity in it was frustrating, even as he murmured, "Everybody needs to move on sometime, Peter. And just because the Hale pack is gone, it doesn't mean that the Hale family is too."
"Family?" it was a bitter word on his tongue. Scolding. Hateful. Dead, "There is no family. They're all gone- because of her."

Derek smiled softly, "Me, Cora, Malia, even Deaton kind of- and yes, you. You've done some pretty bad things Peter...like, God awful things. But you're still my blood. And I..." he stopped, glancing towards his feet, a kicked puppy if there ever was one, "I understand why you blame me. And why you can never forgive me for what I did. But I can't change it, and I won't let it make my decisions for the rest of my life."

Peter gave up on controlling his thundering heart- it wasn't like Derek could hear it any more anyway. With every second that he looked at his nephew, a name was screaming out in his head,

'Talia! Talia! Talia!'

Derek had always looked like his mother- but now he was acting like her too. Talking like her. Thinking like her. Seeing the world through her wise gaze. Knowing what was waiting for them once they reached La Iglesia, knowing that Kate and her berserkers, Scott included, were prowling the dusty ruins awaiting to ambush their approach with eager claws and fangs, ready for blood, just as they had planned- he couldn't let his sister's son die.

"Derek, my sister would never forgive me if I let you go on this trip and you didn't come back." he rasped, "Stay here. For her...Please."
For his part, Derek's eyes widened in surprise slightly as he stared in shock at his uncle before him, who had shifted his gaze to the floor.

Peter held his breath as he was suddenly pressed against a warm mass, his nephew's arms wrapped around him in a crushing embrace. He made no move to escape Derek's grip as the young man nuzzled against the crook of his neck (old habits really do die hard), and pushed down the wolf whimpering with relief inside him as the scent of family truly washed over him for the first time since the fire.

"I don't want to die," Derek murmured against him, "But I'm ready to."

If his hands hadn't been gripping the wheel,Peter was pretty sure he would have been chaining his daughter up to some cactus or rock so that he could pick her up on the way back after all the dangerous fighting crap.

He did his best to tip Malia off to what was her best hope of surviving the blood bath that was approaching with every mile through Mexico. He was grateful that she was so in tune with her true nature, but less so for how strongly she was suppressing that connection- the bond between herself and the coyote within her. It was amazing how quickly parental instinct kicked regardless of a missing 17 years of bonding. Sure he wasn't quite up for a white picket fence and arguing over her taste in boys (though really, Stiles? Of all people...), but he certainly couldn't say he he would be thrilled if his estranged daughter were to meet a gruesome demise that night like some of them were bound to as they stepped into his and Kate's ambush.

For her part, Malia just seemed to ignore his advise, too focussed on restraining the animal that was clawing to get out as the full moon reached its peak. Meanwhile Peter's wolf was shuffling inside him, confused. It snapped its jaws for vengeance, jaws drooling for the strength of being an alpha once again. But at the same time, it whined at him, barking furiously and pawing at him- begging him not to lead its only remaining pack straight into a trap.

The moment they pulled up outside the church ruins beside Braeden's truck, he felt dread fill his gut. The door to the back of the truck opened just as one of the berserkers came charging around the corner, bones ratting, feet thundering- a low growl echoing throughout the entire ruined city.

Malia gasped beside him, staring in horror out of the window and undoing her seatbelt as the creature reach into the truck and yanked Derek out of its security. Peter's eyes widened in sheer disbelief as his wide-eyed nephew was thrown down against a rock.

'Get up. Get up!' his wolf was throwing a fit. His mind was throwing a fit.

But he could only recoil in horror as he watched the long, glinting claw of the berserker rip into the flesh of his sister's man that he had held as an infant, trained as a child. The poor boy didn't even have time to scream as the beast tore its claw out of his chest, only to plunge it back in again. And again. And again.

It was too much. Talia was screaming in his ears, fury and grief rattling as she screeched at him for murdering her only son. Did he not help lead them here? Was it not his doing that they were there at all?

Shaking his head clear, he opened the door and launched himself out of the car just as several blinding lights flashed and pounding gunshots filled the air. Risking a glance from under his arm which he had raised to shield himself from the light, relief filled Peter's lungs as he saw the lumbering silhouette of the berserker fleeing to the safety of the ruins.

Looking around, he saw Braeden glaring after the creature, gun in hand, Stiles, Liam and Malia all bundling out of the vehicles with round, child-like eyes.

A weak grunt of pain had all heads turning to where Derek still lay against the stone, hand hovering over his chest where blood still wept from the wounds. Peter felt his heart stop and hiswolf let out a mournful howl. Braeden got there before him, dropping to her knees in the dust beside his nephew with distress in her dark eyes, "Oh my god, Derek!"
"It's fine, I'm fine." his voice was hoarse, too quick, riddled with pain and a desperate attempt to act like nothing was wrong. It was clear to all that wasn't the case.

Peter could only stare numbly at his nephew. With every gasping breath from the young man, he wanted to lurch forward, to take his pain away no matter how much he had to carry- like Derek had done for Cora during the alpha pack invasion.
"Go! Go find Kira and Scott. " Derek gasped, eyes locked on Stiles. Liam and Malia hesitated briefly, but Braeden nodded her head in agreement, "I'll stay with him."

the beta and the coyote exchanged an agreeing look, cast another concerned glance towards Derek, then pelted towards the entrance to the church. Wincing, his wolf whimpering to not leave its packmate's side, Peter reluctantly, slowly, forced his feet to move towards the entrance. Stiles hesitated longer, lips set in a thin line, jaw tensing in reluctance.

"Hey,"
That was Derek. Peter glanced over his shoulder just as his nephew breathed out, "Save him."

A shudder passed through Peter's body. Talia would despise him. Her son was dying, because of him. Just when her boy had settled, when he'd adjusted to life without her, she would be reunited with him.

A low growl passed through his lips as he remembered why he had done it all. Kate had to die. Now he was even more certain than before. And Scott too. If anything, just because he wouldn't let Derek die in vain. This was his opportunity to kill the true alpha and recreate the Hale pack. Derek would be the last of the Hales to die- and he would destroy whoever it took to make sure it stayed that way.