Disclaimer: Teen Wolf and its characters don't belong to me...

A/N: Believe it or not, it's Allison's scene that's been holding back this update...and I'm still not completely thrilled with it. But, I've done what I can...

Confidantes

There was a time that driving home in silence would have been completely normal. Christopher Argent wasn't exactly a man who felt the need to fill lulls in conversation. As such, Allison reserved a small pride that they were capable of enjoying one another's company without endless chatter.

This was not that time.

She sat in the center of the backseat with her hands resting limp upon her lap. Her eyes stared, unseeing, out the shattered windshield. The SUV tore down the road, whipping her hair into a tangled mess. Her dull gaze shifted to the angled profile of her father's face. He stared at the road, icily, with his knuckles bone white upon the steering wheel.

A thread of concern touched the far side of her mind. The place which was untouched by monsters, shock, and adrenaline. It registered a single, undeniable fact: She was in so much trouble.

As the SUV swung into the driveway, she noticed the street was lined with familiar cars. For one ludicrous moment, she reasoned that her mother must have been throwing a dinner for all the family's friends...friends which all lived out of town...

She blinked when the side door opened, not even aware that her father was no longer in the driver's seat. Chris lent a gentle, but firm, hand to slide her out of the vehicle. She limped beside him, wincing from the sting of her twisted ankle. He draped his overcoat across her shoulders and she drew it around herself, soaking in the warmth it offered. She allowed him to steer her up the walk and into the house.

Voices died the moment they entered and Allison found herself looking into the faces she'd grown up with. They stared back at her. But instead of breaking into friendly grins or offering teasing comments about her ruined hair, she was regarded with an odd wariness. The men were all somber and concerned, their eyes flicking from her to Chris and back again as if to verify she wasn't carrying some deadly disease into their midst. She pressed her shoulders into her father's chest.

Chris stepped before her and sent a look into the living room which scattered everyone's attention. Then he hauled Allison up the stairs. Grateful as she was to break the community stare down, her neck prickled with the sensation that they were all watching her again. Light steps followed after them and, glancing back, she was relieved to see Kate.

The next thing she knew, she had plopped onto her bed. She looked around with a hollow nervousness. Her skin tingled as if she were intruding on someone else's privacy. She recognized things (her desk, her dresser, the charred remains of Mr. Bear in the corner) but nothing held an ounce of familiarity. She drew a pillow to her chest and focused on the bland closet door before her.

"So..." Kate's voice cut through the numbing haze, "How'd it go?"

"Kate, not - " But Chris was cut off by a softer answer.

"We were dancing." Allison tugged the coat closer. She felt she would never draw enough heat into herself. "We were dancing. He said..." Her eyes widened. "H-he said..."

The heat of his kiss drew from her lips. Her eyes fluttered to meet his.

"Why did you do that?"

Scott smiled. "Because I love you."

"I'm sure he said a lot," Chris muttered, darkly. He turned to face his daughter, head on. "What exactly were the two of you doing out on that bus, anyway?"

She slid glassy eyes towards him. She had seen her father angry before, but never like this. His face seemed more defined, chiseled even, with the tension coiling along his neck and jaw. A strange light filled his eyes, transforming him from her warm, slightly over-protective father, into the cold, intimidating "Mr. Argent" that Scott knew so well.

Scott...

"All right," Kate said, stepping into the room. She set a hand on her brother's shoulder. "Chris, you know I love you, but you gotta go. And you know I'm right," she added when he bristled. She pushed him towards the door. "Go on downstairs. Say a few words to the troops. Pass around some orders, you know, the stuff you're good at. I'll handle this."

"Kate..." he began again, his voice tinged in warning.

"This is girl talk," she said with a sweet smile before slamming the door in his face. She let out a breath and then turned to face her niece. Allison's blank stare had drifted to the carpet before her. Hooking her thumbs into her pockets, the older woman sauntered towards the bed.

"You sure know how to pick 'em, don't you, sweetie?"

Allison blinked as a line formed between her eyebrows. "Scott's a werewolf..."

"Feels weird rolling off the tongue, doesn't it?" Kate wrinkled her nose, playfully.

The girl finally looked up at her. She cocked her head. "Scott is a werewolf?"

Kate's smile faded. She rolled her eyes. "Oh, it's still processing...Fine," she sank down to the bed. "Take as much time as you need. I understand, it's a lot to take in. Finding out your boyfriend is a monster with connections to a bloodthirsty alpha right after discovering you come from a lineage of werewolf hunters..." She stuck out her lip. "Good grief, it's good enough to be on stage."

"The alpha?" Allison whispered.

"I told you about the second beta we were looking for." Kate lifted a brow. "The one like Derek? Now we've found him."

"No," Allison pushed from the bed, shaking her head as she began to pace. "No, he can't be. Scott would never...he wouldn't...

Kate watched her wander back and forth. "I totally agree. Scott probably could never kill anyone." She met her niece's wary glance and rose from the bed herself. "But we're not talking about Scott anymore, sweetie."

"What?"

"With werewolves, kiddo, it's all smoke and mirrors. Survival is their first and foremost instinct. You can't blend into a crowd if you look like a murderer, now can you?" Allison hesitated and Kate pressed forward, driving her towards the desk. "And despite old Hollywood flicks, there is nothing tragic about their human forms. Their human personas exist only to deceive, to disappear with only the vaguest of descriptions." A small smile quirked at her lips. "Young boy, dark hair, fantastic brown eyes..." She hummed low in her throat before noticing the incredulous look she was receiving. "A purely platonic observation, I swear."

Allison rubbed at her cheeks, shaking her head again.

"The point is, that description can fit hundreds of boys in this area. And when searching for a murderer, no one would ever look at Scott. He's a good kid, a cutie, one of dozens of athletes...and all of it is a mask of his deceit."

The girl took a shuddering breath, her fingers touching her mouth.

Kate eye softened. "The harsh truth is, kid, that Scott McCall died the minute the alpha sank his teeth into him. What's been walking around in his skin during the day is the most ruthless, single-minded predator this world's ever had the misfortune to witness."

"Single-minded?"

Her aunt smiled, almost dreamily. "Survival is their first instinct...followed only by their bloodlust." Her shoulders lifted into a shrug.

"No!" Allison made for the window. She paused, staring out into the dark night through her own pale reflection. "I know Scott. I know him. I-I-I don't know what he is, but he is not a murderer! I would have seen it, he-he's the worst...liar..." Her voice broke and she dropped her head to hide her tears. "In all the time I spent with him, Kate...I've never seen a monster!"

Kate studied her through a light frown. Lifting her niece's chin, she pushed away the damp and tangled hair to expose her tear-streaked cheeks. Allison's lip trembled and she sank into her aunt's arms with a soft whimper. Kate propped her own chin on the top of the girl's hair, shushing her for a moment.

"Oh, sweetie...you're going to."

He passed through the forest with a fluidity unnatural to his outward appearance. A human in the forest at night should have been a pathetic, stumbling mess. Yet this one went with steps which were strong and confident. His eyes were red, lit from within, providing more detail than any night vision goggles ever could. His ears caught the movements of birds and animals as they stilled to regard his presence. The heady smells of flora and fauna might have been overwhelming this far from civilized company, but his focus was bent upon the one thing that had no place here.

There was no scent to follow as the wind had shifted away from him. He had no broken path of limbs to show him the way. There was only...an impression. Something which dried his mouth and left bitterness lying heavy upon his tongue. It rolled out of the darkness in an intriguing and invisible wave, catching his heightened senses and lighting up the trail like a beacon.

Though, whether this beacon was created through the connection of Peter's venom flowing through Scott's veins or he was picking up the intense emotions of the boy's human side, he wasn't quite sure. Not that he really cared about the matter. He was able to track down his wayward little beta, the technicalities of this feat meant nothing to him.

The alpha crested a low rise and spotted the younger werewolf. Scott was on his knees, hunched over with his forehead pressed to the dirt. His back was shuddering with sobs and his fists were clutched up against his chest. The ragged remains of his dress shirt hung about him in shreds. The bits not spattered in filth and mud stood bone white against the dark forest floor.

Peter watched him for a moment before rolling his shoulders. He hadn't lied to Derek about the destruction of his humanity in the wake of the alpha's rise. If he truly felt anything from the scene before him, it was mild curiosity. This was all business, a means to an end, and his eyes were stony as he observed the young creature attempt to pull himself together.

He drew in a breath saturated by the emotions rolling off the teenager. High school drama. He sneered at the thought as he began to pick apart the haze. Pain was the most prominent, thus coating his tongue in that dry, acrid taste. Confusion was there, hurt, loss, embarrassment, fear, rejection. He sighed. The boy was an emotional wreck, surely something he was feeling could be useful in...

His nostrils flared wider, catching a subtle, but far more intriguing, emotion on the air. It was sharp and vivid, stinging the sides of his tongue with a sour flavor that he scraped against his teeth.

Betrayal.

Peter's vision darkened. The red faded from his eyes as he approached the boy. Pausing in the shadow of a tree, he lightened the tone of his voice to ask, "Scott?"

The reaction was instant. Scott scrambled up and backwards as he bared puny human teeth against the night. He searched the tree line with wild eyes, his chest heaving with adrenaline. Peter kept his face perfectly concerned as he emerged into the dim light.

"Scott, what's happened to you?"

Recognition filtered through the teenager's face. "Peter?"

"Are you injured?" He moved forward, causing Scott to fall back, watching him, warily. He smiled and offered an outstretched hand, palm up. "Scott, relax."

The tension rolled out of the boy's shoulders. His dark eyes were still wide and suspicious, but his fists uncoiled as well. Interesting. Peter cocked his head. He shifted his weight to the right, easing down to be on equal footing with the other. Scott countered the motion, keeping their distance while setting a large stump between them. Peter watched him just as carefully as he himself was being watched, regarding the link with his beta in a new light.

After all, he was almost as new to being an alpha as the boy was to being a werewolf. He'd known created wolves before, but his family had been forged through a bloodline. Given the makeup of a pack's hierarchy, he knew their ties to one another were considerably more difficult to severe than even human families could fathom. Yet, he hadn't really thought upon the connection which could be manifested through the bite.

He had known his call would draw the boy to him. He knew he could force him to shift and, if caught off guard, could intensify and direct his bloodlust. But here and now? He couldn't help but wonder how much influence he had over his creation.

His eyes glinted with the prospect. He cleared his throat, "You haven't answered."

"I'm fine," Scott growled. He tugged the torn sleeve of his shirt over his shoulder.

"Of course," Peter nodded. "Although, what I heard all the way from town would suggest otherwise. I had feared you were being skinned alive." He paused to shoot a sly smile towards the other. "Or was it heartbreak, I wonder?"

As he spoke, he sent a command into that swirling cloud of emotion radiating off the teen. A simple direction to scratch his neck.

Scott's hand rose, obediently, to run his fingernails along his collarbone. Close enough.

"It's nothing," Scott muttered at his feet, missing the triumphant smile that flashed across the older man's face. "Something happened and...I had to get out of there..."

"Something?" Peter dropped his voice, changing the question into a silent demand for information.

Scott's eyes fluttered and he shook his head. "I...uh..." He looked away, blinking.

Peter took the opportunity to close the distance between them. "It's okay, Scott. Tell me."

A glaze slithered over the young man's eyes. "We were at the dance..." he said. His words fell into a flat monotone. "Allison and I, we...we went outside to the buses..." He glanced up, as if he waiting for disapproval to cross the adult's face. Peter only lifted his chin as a signal to continue. "Her dad showed up...he showed up and tried to...run over me..."

Peter frowned. "What happened to the girl?"

"She was on the bus."

He allowed the sentence to hang for a moment. "That's rather convenient, wouldn't you say?"

"No!" Peter rocked back from the surge of defiance which struck him. Scott caught himself and seemed to hesitate. "No, I mean...I don't know."

"I think you do," Peter pressed, shaking off the resistance the boy had towards blaming the girl. He pulled at his coat and leveled his eyes at the other. A thought struck him and he glanced aside. "Then again..."

Scott's scowl lessened.

"It is possible the girl didn't know what she was doing." He moved again, walking straight towards the boy with a slow, non-threatening gait. Scott didn't retreat but glanced at the stump as if to verify he still had a barrier between them. "After all, the Argents are ruthless enough to use an innocent victim as bait. Even one of their own. Perhaps she was no more than unknowing accomplice to her...family." The word passed over his tongue like acid.

Scott blinked. "Y-yeah...maybe..."

Sensing a crack in the beta's defenses, Peter eased closer. "It does seem like something they would do."

Scott's eyes flicked to the ground, shifting back and forth. Peter smiled to himself and nudged a feeling of indignation towards the younger heart. Anger puckered the boy's brow.

"Doesn't it?" the Alpha asked quietly.

Slowly, the boy's chin lifted and fell.

Peter drew himself up as an unfamiliar nervousness beat into his chest. The wall Scott had built against him all this time was splintered down the center and crumbling more with each second. With his tendrils of control brushing against the boy's consciousness, it would only take a push to reel in his new ally.

Unfortunately, that push was not going to be very pleasant.

He swallowed to steel his nerve. "Wouldn't you like to repay them with a visit?"

Scott's glassy eyes shimmered with doubt. Then the darkness of Peter's hatred clouded his face.

He nodded.

Peter's hand shot out, catching the younger werewolf around the back of his neck. He saw a flash of surprised gold before he drove their foreheads together. Scott's knees buckled and he went down, catching himself on the stump. Peter staggered as the impact sliced between his eyes. The alpha's underlying consciousness flinched back for an instant, fully exposing his mind to the stifled humanity.

A hiss tore his throat as the phantom sting of flames licked at his arms. The heavy stench of smoke coated his nose and throat. He could still taste the ash which was six years gone. He could hear the frightened cries of children long dead.

His chest tightened against the onslaught. Feelings he thought safely buried struck his thoughts just as sharp and potent as the moment he'd gained them. Helplessness, separation, fear of the loud pops and bangs consuming the house above them. His brother, his alpha, let out a futile bellow of defiance even as the ceiling came down, crushing his pack into oblivion.

Strange, unworldly silence followed, swelled only by the unyielding fire that continued long after it had claimed them. Pain. Pain. Pain. Silence. Pain. Cold air. Flashing lights and shouting ghosts.

Darkness. Slow, disintegrating fury.

Awakening to the call of the moon.

Wrath. Always, there was his wrath.

The quell of emotion was severed like a lid slamming shut. The alpha's cold instincts cut it off and left Peter to reel beneath the power of it. He snarled to regain his composure and forced himself upright. His skin tingled with the residual effects of the pouring such hatred out. He felt it swirling, bouncing off himself and the woods around them.

It hung like a malicious fog and was sucked into the younger one's lungs like vapor.

A feral grin appeared as he saw his own rage reflected in other's face.

Scott was staring ahead with blazing eyes. His arms were locked and trembling as he absorbed the raw feelings of the older man. Pale claws bit deep into the stump as he shifted, whitening his knuckles. His fangs appeared, sending flecks of saliva onto the wood with each growing snarl. A rumble rolled through his chest.

Peter shook his head, pushing down the onslaught out of pure will. "Scott?"

The young man's shoulders shuddered and he lifted his head. He considered the alpha from beneath a low brow, his pointed ears pricking forward at the mention of his name. His lip curled a second before he sent a savage roar straight into the alpha's face. A roar of pain and vengeance and wrath.

His eyes were red.

Peter regarded him coldly...and then smiled.

"Good."