"Yours?" Stiles squeaked, trying futilely to get free from the Alpha's grip."No, I'm the only one here who isn't your puppet, your play thing, and I don't intend to become one! I refused the bite, Peter, or don't you remember that? I don't want to be yours. I won't be," he was panting, like he had run a marathon, or more likely, like he was in the middle of a panic attack. Which wasn't unlikely when you thought about it. He was losing his family to a psychotic werewolf. He was losing his mind, too.

Peter held on tight, his eyes flashing red in anger. "I remember your lie, and I can hear your lies now. I've told you how pathetic it is to lie to a werewolf, Stiles, I would have thought you capable of remembering that small fact. Careful not to disappoint me," he tutted disapprovingly.

"Or what?" Stiles bit back, "you'll kill me?"

Peter calmed suddenly, and Stiles thought that that was maybe worse. Calm Peter had time to plot and plan. Calm Peter knew things were going his way. In the past none of this had turned out to benefit Stiles, or anyone else. "Don't be ridiculous, Stiles," he informed him, smoothing down the material of his tee and taking his time about it as if he relished the heat from Stiles' skin. "I don't kill what's mine. I cherish it."

The he let go, and Stiles found himself overwhelmingly free. He reached for the nearest surface to hold himself steady as Peter swept out of the door. "I'll expect to see you at the full moon," he said and was gone.

The air tasted bitter, it felt like all the colour in the world was gone and Stiles would never laugh or smile again. Scott visibly calmed once Peter was out of hearing range, but his father sat there, the picture of a dejected man who had given up before the fight had even begun. "Dad..." Stiles began, but he had nothing to ask. What could he say? Please don't leave me? Please don't let Peter hurt me? He was no longer sure where his father's loyalties lay.

"Scott, I think it's time you leave now," the Sheriff said evenly, not looking up from the table in front of him.

Scott glanced at Stiles who nodded. There was nothing his friend could do here. Not now. Scott brushed past him on his way out, a hand patted him briefly in consolation but it made Stiles feel cold and he flinched away from the touch. Scott was gone before he could notice it, and then all there was to deal with was Stiles' dad.

"Come sit down here, son," Stilinski said.

Stiles did so, sitting opposite his dad and trying to make eye contact like if only he could see his dad's eyes he could know if it was really him, if his dad was still his own person or just another pawn in Peter Hale's vendetta against the hunters who had stolen his family from him.

"I know this must be confusing for you, you don't understand why I'm turning my back on human laws or how I could do it so easily... Not that this is easy. It isn't... while I was asleep I saw Peter's memories. I assumed it was just a coma dream until he spoke to me. I felt what he felt, the grief I felt for your mother was multiplied a hundred fold. I didn't think my mind would come out from it complete," his father paused, breathing deeply to take away the memories. Stiles knew his father had been devastated when his mom had died, so this was no easy comparison to make. "Peter told me what it meant, who I am now. I'm not human any more son," he admitted, his voice breaking with unexpressed emotion, "to live my life by their rules would be hypocritical, but that doesn't mean I condone killing of any kind."

"I just want things to go back... at first I thought it was so cool that Scott was a werewolf. Who wouldn't? I was like he had superpowers... but everything has been so screwed up ever since..." Stiles said in a small voice, wishing his dad would say that everything would be okay, and wishing more than anything that he could even believe that.

"Things can't ever go back, son. Not now Peter has claimed you," his father said with a heavy sigh.

Stiles froze. "What? What do you mean 'claimed' me? Do you know something?"

His father nodded, looking old and tired. "Stiles, you're Peter's Claimed Mate. Nothing is ever going to be the same. Ever."