"Forgiveness is the economy of the heart...forgiveness saves the expense of anger, the cost of hatred, the waste of spirits." -Hannah More

"Forgiveness is the final form of love." -Reinhold Niebuhr

Peter never talked much about before the fire. There was never the need to. Derek and Cora seemed to understand. That is until that loud mouth Stilinski made a comment about Peter not knowing what it really meant to be part of a family since he didn't have any besides his nephew and niece.

"Shut it, Stiles!" Cora snapped. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

Stiles stared at her for a minute. "I'm sorry, since when do we defend psyco zombie wolves?"

"I'll admit," Derek put it, "That no one likes Peter, but you didn't know him before the fire. He had a family."

Stiles scoffed. "If he did, don't you think he might have tried to save them and not just himself?"

The tension in the loft seemed to rise higher than ever and they didn't even know Peter was there; at least the stupid human didn't.

"How much do you know about what happened during the fire?" Peter asked, descending the spiral staircase.

Stiles glared. "Just what I've read in the papers and in the case files, illegally of course."

Peter nodded. "I wouldn't expect you to dig much deeper."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"It means," Peter said, talking slowly as if to a child. "That your animosity towards me would render you incapable to look into the relations of the people who had the misfortune of being trapped in the fire."

Derek scowled and put a hand on Cora's shoulder as she whimpered in distress.

"I know that eight bodies were recovered from that night. Dental records conformed the identity of seven of the victims, the other was too young to have such records."

Peter sighed. "His name was Jacob, he was two months old, and he was human."

"What?"

Peters eyes shown electric blue as he turned toward the annoying teen. "He was my son, and I carried his body out of the fire before collapsing on top of him. When I woke up, I looked into his M.E. report. He was smothered to death – by ME – before firefighters could get to the house. The report said that if it wasn't for my weight on top of him, my son might very well still be alive today."

His eyes glowed brightly before returning to it regular shade. Silent tears ran down his cheeks.

"I took him from the basement and hurried across burning wood, hoping that if I could get him to safety, I could run in for the others afterwards. But I was week from the mountain ash that was burning along with everything else. Sometimes I dream he's still here; see him running around like a normal child, laughing at the most outlandish things, smiling at me. I don't deserve to see him smile. I killed him."

That night, Peter dreamed. He dreamed of his little boy with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. The boy smiled wide at Peter, who just wept at the sight.

"Why are you crying, daddy?" the boy asked, his smile fading slightly.

"Because I miss you," Peter told him, wanting so badly to hold the boy.

"But I'm here with you," the boy said, smile returning tenfold. "I'm always with you! I love you!"

Peter returned the smile weakly. "I wish it were true, son."

Peter watched the boy play all night until the sun rose.

"I have to go now, daddy," Jacob told him.

"Go? Go where?" Peter asked. "I thought you said you'd always be with me?"

Jacob walked up to his father and put his hand over the man's heart. "I am, daddy. In here."

Just as Jacob was fading from sight, he kissed his father's cheek and said, "I love you, daddy, and I forgive you. Please forgive yourself…"

A/N: I hoped you all enjoyed reading this - it's just a little ficlet, I don't plan on doing much more with it. You can also find this on AO3 under the same title.