I found a couple things I missed in this chapter, so I'm re-updating it. Sorry.

Still don't own 'em.

Derek used to love the quiet. He'd sit in the dark, surrounded by white noise, for hours on end. Sometimes he'd read, sometimes he'd just sit there, but it had to be quiet and he had to be alone. Now, after almost a year surrounded by his pack, he was actually missing the noise.

He missed Erica complaining about the fact that he only had one working bathroom in the manor (he was working on getting the rest fixed up, but lately he didn't have the time). He missed Boyd and Jackson's constant shouting as they sparred out back. He missed Isaac and Scott arguing as they played cards in the dining room. He missed Stiles wandering around the half-finished house, rambling on, randomly cleaning everything, and insisting he buy healthier food every time he looked in the cupboards. He even missed Lydia and Alison bringing him random paint samples or those girly magazines, insisting he pick bright colors to liven up the house. They may have only been teenagers to the outside world, but to him they were his pack, his family.

His missed their chatter, their constant presence, them. Of course, he was a long way from admitting any to that to them, though sometimes he wondered if Stiles hadn't already figured it out. The kid was too damn perceptive for his own good.

He was sitting in the living room, sprawled out on the secondhand sofa Erica and Boyd picked out, staring at the ceiling. He wouldn't admit he was bored, but he wasn't exactly having fun either. Derek figured he could always track down Peter, but the day he willingly agreed to hang around his uncle would be the day he decided he no longer needed teeth.

Thinking of Peter made his mind wander to Laura. It was one year today that his sister's body had been found, in the woods, after she was brutally murdered by Peter and mutilated by Kate Argent. Later that night, he planned to make s'mores in her honor, out back, over a fire he planned to build in an old fire pit the boys and him dug a while ago. His sister was a healthy eater usually, picking up the habit from their father, but she could never deny a s'more.

Derek tried to remember his sister when she was alive, and not as he buried her. Before his pack, she was the last person he trusted, and when she died, he swore to never trust anyone ever again. He was such a damn liar.

He suddenly straightened up, very much aware of a car approaching his house. Cautiously he got off the couch, moving towards a window. He peered out the window, watching as Sheriff Stilinski's car creeped up the path. He parked next to Derek's Camaro, but made no moves to actually get out of his car.

Derek studied the older man, sensing the apprehension and uncertainty oozing off of him. He was struggling with something, something big, and Derek would be lying if he said he wasn't a little intrigued. Had he found some of Stiles' research? No, Derek had a feeling he'd be sensing a few more emotions if that had been the case. Maybe he thought Stiles was…

"Really," he muttered shaking his head. They were not, nor will they ever be, a couple. Derek didn't see the loud mouthed, fast talking teen that way. In fact, if they had any type of relationship, they were more like brothers than anything else. It also didn't help that Stiles reminded Derek of his cousin Marty. Maybe that was why Derek spent so much time trying to save Stiles, to keep him from having the same fate as Marty.

Whatever the reason the sheriff was doing there, Derek knew he had to either confront the man or hide upstairs until he went away. As tempting as the latter sounded, he knew the former was the most logical choice. So, with a sigh, he moved towards the door and pulled it open.

As he stepped outside, he noticed the sheriff getting out of his car. The older man looked up at the sound of the door, freezing halfway out of his seat. For a brief moment, the two just studied each other, and Derek sensed acceptance replace the apprehension and uncertainty. Sheriff Stilinski nodded, pulled the rest of his body out of his car, and closed the door.

"Hey," he greeted Derek as he slowly headed towards his porch.

"Hey," Derek repeated cautiously. "Can I help you?"

"I wanted to ask you a question," the sheriff stated slowly, his eyes locked on something just over Derek's shoulder, apprehension creeping back up, fighting the acceptance for control.

"Okay."

"Do you…?" he didn't want to ask, Derek could tell, but the older man pushed on anyway. "Were there any…?" With a frustrated sigh, his eyes met Derek's and he finally managed to say, "Were there any Shaws in your family?"

The question caught Derek by surprise. He hadn't heard that name in years, not since his grandmother died. He knew it was her maiden name, and that he had an aunt who went by that last name. Unfortunately, he never met his Aunt Marina. She died a few months after he was born. Why was Stiles' father suddenly interested in his family history?

"Why?" Derek asked suspiciously.

"There were a few, weren't there?" the sheriff countered, obviously reading something on Derek's face. He didn't need wolf hearing to know when someone was lying or withholding information, he dealt with liars on a daily basis.

"Why?" Derek repeated really wanting this conversation to end. He didn't talk about his family to anyone, not even his pack, and he sure as hell wasn't talking about them to someone he barely even knew; he didn't care whose father he was or what he did for a living.

"Marina Shaw? Did you know her?" the sheriff pressed, ignoring Derek's question.

"Why do you need to know?" Derek demanded, clenching his hands into fists. He was getting angry; these questions were getting on his nerves. He took a few deep breaths, willing his claws to stay where they belonged. When he had control again, he calmly stated, "I don't think it's any of your business." He turned to go back inside, slowly moving towards the door, throwing over his shoulder, "I think you should leave."

"Derek, I…"

"Please, just…"

"I think I'm your father."

Those five words stopped Derek in his tracks. He slowly turned to face the sheriff again, his eyebrows furrowed. "What did you say?" he asked slowly, eyeing the man cautiously.

"I think I'm your father," the sheriff repeated, and Derek listened hard as he spoke each word. He waited for a skipped heart beat, a hitched breath, something to tell him that the older man was lying, but there was nothing. He was telling the truth, or what he believed to be the truth.

"T-that's not possible," Derek said softly, shaking his head, his fists unclenching. It didn't matter what Sheriff Stilinski thought, he wasn't his son. His father's name was Nathan Hale.

"I knew Marina in college," the older man continued. "We dated for a while, nothing special, and we probably never would have ended up married, but we were young, thought we were in love, and then one day she broke up with me."

"Why are you…?"

"She wouldn't answer my calls, she wasn't at her dorm. She just wouldn't talk to me. And for a while I thought it was because I did something."

"I still don't…"

"But I think it was something else. Today, in the grocery store, when you smiled, you reminded me of her. And I don't mean in the 'he looks like a long lost relative' way either. You really, really reminded me of her."

"What are you…?"

"I think you're her son… and mine. Maybe, maybe she was killed when you were young or something and asked her brother to raise you. I still don't know why she needed to hide you from…"

"Listen up," Derek finally snapped, cutting the older man off, his voice deathly calm even though fury was rolling through his veins. "My parents were Nathan and Marlow Hale. Marina Shaw was an aunt I never met that died a few months after I was born. I don't know who told you this, this messed up theory, but it's not true, okay? So just get the hell off my property."

He abruptly turned on his heel and stalked into the house, slamming the door behind him. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes, breathing heavily. He listened as the sheriff sighed and walked back towards his car. The door closed, the engine turned over, and the sheriff drove away. It wasn't until the sound of tires had faded that Derek finally opened his eyes, both slowly returning to their natural color. It surprised him a little. The last time he lost control like that, he had been sixteen.

He couldn't believe what Sheriff Stilinski had told him; he wouldn't believe it. He had two parents, two very loving, very supportive parents. He had a sister he loved more than anything in the world. He wasn't going to let those memories get tarnished because someone fed a police officer some cock and bull story.

But what if it was true? Doubt and uncertainty rolled through him, and he began questioning his life. Was he really Nathan and Marlow's son? Marina did die a few months after he was born. He was never quite sure how she was killed, but he always suspected it was the hunters. The hunters stole another mother from him; how convenient.

Frustration rolled through him and he clenched his hands at his sides again. He shouldn't even be considering it because it wasn't true. She was his aunt, just his aunt, nothing more.

But is she? Really? A small voice, sounding almost exactly like Laura, said in the back of his head.

Yes, he insisted trying to push the voice down.

But think it through… the voice insisted in a sing song tone.

No because it's not true.

As much as I hate to suggest it, maybe you should ask Peter.

He wasn't going ask Peter. He didn't need Peter. He wasn't going to waste gas and energy trying to track down his uncle.

TW

Ten minutes later he was on the road, hands gripping the steering wheel, looking for Peter. He couldn't believe he was even doing this, he shouldn't be doing this, but he wanted to know; a part of him needed to know; even if the answer wasn't what he wanted. That is, if he could believe whatever came out of Peter's lying, murdering mouth. Lucky for him, he had a built in lie detector.

He eventually tracked his uncle down at an old dog park. By the smell of the park, dogs hadn't frequented the place in many years. Derek wasn't sure why Peter came here, and he really didn't care (just as long as his uncle wasn't murdering anyone else).

He found the older man sitting on a bench, his elbows resting in on his knees, staring at the ground. Slowly, Derek walked towards his uncle, eyeing him cautiously. He knew the older man was aware of his presence, but a part of Derek wished he hadn't been. What he wouldn't give to be able to attack his uncle, re-kill him.

"Still hate me? That's original," Peter snarked, keeping his eyes locked on the ground. Derek didn't say anything, he merely sat at the far end of the bench, as far away from his uncle as possible. "Oh, c'mon Derek, you know what today is. We should be there for each other. I cared for Laura just as much…"

Derek snorted humorlessly, shaking his head, and snapped, "Don't pretend you cared about Laura. If you did, you wouldn't have killed her."

"I'm not going to explain myself to you, again," Peter stated softly. "Besides," the older Alpha looked up, his blue eyes settling on his nephew, "you aren't here to talk about your sister anyway. What, dear nephew, are you doing looking for me?"

"I shouldn't have even bothered…" Derek tried to get to his feet, but Peter grabbed his arm and forced him back onto the bench. Derek was too surprised to fight back, his elbow smashing into the back of the bench. His arm went numb for a second but feeling quickly returned as the bruise healed. "Don't ever do that again," he snarled, wrenching his arm out of Peter's grasp, his eyes flashing red.

"That won't work on me," Peter retorted easily, leaning back into the bench. "Now, what did you want to ask me?"

This was stupid. He shouldn't be there, sitting next to Peter, even considering this. He knew who his parents were. Why did he even care if they weren't his biological parents? He shouldn't care.

Because it could mean you're not completely alone, Laura's voice reminded him. Come on, Der, don't you want to know?

He sucked in a deep breath, slowly let it out, and asked, "What can you tell me about Aunt Marina?"

"Why are you suddenly interested in her?" Peter questioned carefully, eyeing his nephew curiously. "You've never met her, never talked to her. She's basically nothing to you."

"Don't talk down to me," Derek said softly, glaring at his uncle. "Just answer my question."

"She was the oldest," Peter replied after a short pause. "She was also loud, boisterous, liked to flirt with all the boys. Our parents couldn't control her, and sometimes I wondered if our mother wanted her controlled. She went off to college the moment she graduated high school, said she was going to get out, see the world."

"Is that it?" A part of him wanted to be angry at how nonchalant and cold Peter was being as he talked about his sister, but he had long since gotten used to Peter's heartlessness. There wasn't much he could do about his uncle, and he wasn't going to try to change the older man.

"No, she turned up a few months after she graduated college, said she needed help. Your parents took her in, even though they had Laura at the time. No one asked her why she'd forgone her plans, and she didn't offer anything up in return. Then, about a year after moving in with your parents, she was caught by a group of hunters and cut in half."

Derek tried really hard not to flinch, focusing on the fact that his uncle was keeping something from him. Something important, something that could confirm what had already been thrown at him. He met Peter's eyes and slowly said, "I'm only going to ask this once. If you lie to me, I'm going to throw you into that lake." He jerked his head towards the body of water, halfway across the park. "Do I make myself clear?"

"You can try," Peter retorted with a smirk, but still nodded.

"W-was Marina p-pregnant when she returned home?" Derek struggled to get the question out, he was certain he tripped over a few of the words, but he knew the question hit home when he noticed his uncle's eyes widen just a smidgen. "She was, wasn't she?"

"Derek, how did…?"

"What happened to the baby, Peter? What happened to it after she died? I'm assuming she had it, I'm assuming she named it, and I'm assuming it went to you or my parents. So, what happened to it?" Peter neglected to answer and frustration washed over Derek. "Was it me? Am I her baby? And don't lie to me because I'll know. You know I'll know."

"Derek, you need to understand…"

He wasn't denying it. He was trying his hardest not to answer the question, but Peter was not denying it. Numbly, Derek stood up and walked away from the older Alpha, ignoring Peter as he called his name. Sheriff Stilinski had been right. He was Marina's son. It didn't confirm he was also the sheriff's, but it was a possibility.

He had been lied to his whole life by the two people he was supposed to love and trust unconditionally. Why hadn't they told him? Didn't they think he could handle it? They should have told him, his parents… Nathan and Marlow should have told him.

He wasn't sure where he was headed, he just started driving. It was a while later that he found himself sitting outside the Stilinski residence, looking blankly up at the house. Should he go inside or should he leave? Both sounded far better than heading back to the Hale manor, back to where he spent sixteen years being lied to, and the past two trying to keep himself alive.

He almost left, very nearly started his car and took off again, but he knew he had to confront the older man. He had to apologize for his attitude, and perhaps figure out just how certain he was about… about him being… He just had to go inside.

With a heavy sigh, he opened his door. He pulled his keys from the ignition, shut his door, and slowly walked towards the front door. Twice he almost headed back to his car, but he forced himself to keep moving. Eventually, he was standing by the door, his hand hovering in the air to knock.

His fist connected with the wood twice, each knock echoing in the air. Derek waited, breath held, and nearly turned around again, but the door swung open before he could. Sheriff Stilinski stood in the doorway, arms crossed, studying him, no doubt waiting for him to say something.

"I wanted to talk…" Derek started, and the sheriff stepped aside to allow him access to his house. The werewolf sucked in a deep breath and moved forward, stepping over the threshold, listening to the door close behind him.