A/N: Alright everyone, this chapter isn't as long as the last, but the next chapter should hopefully be longer. Hope you're still enjoying this! This is intended to be slow-burn. Reviews, as always, are welcome!

I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF, THE VAMPIRE DIARIES OR THE CHARACTERS.

Chapter Ten:

I blinked and stared at the wall by Peter's bed. He was still sleeping and I didn't want to wake him. Things felt different this morning. They didn't feel bad… just different. It was be a vast understatement to say that yesterday changed things for us. Nothing about our situation is normal. Even though anyone else would probably be running from this situation, I can't help wanting to stay. Something about how personal the part of Peter that he kept hidden away from everyone else… that decided to share with me… it just made me want to be with him that much more.

He keeps saying that he isn't used to this and that he doesn't feel things the way that other people do, but my relationship with Peter, if you can even call it that, is the most normal thing in my life right now. It's one of the only things that is keeping me going. His belief in me that I'm strong enough to survive my father… his constant reminders of the woman the he thought Grams raised me to be… they're building me up. I know that I'll never be able to thank him enough for it.

"What are you thinking about, sweetheart? I can hear how your brain going from here." Peter's quiet voice filled my ears. I gave a small involuntary jump. I thought that he was still sleeping.

"Us," I admitted, quietly.

"I like the sound of that." He mused, before lightly tightening his grip around my middle and placing a trail of soft kisses on my neck.

"Last night you said that there was an us…" I reminded him.

"I did." He agreed. He sounded like he was waiting for me to finish my thought. I bit my lip and thought about how to word what I was thinking.

"So we're...?" I was waiting for him to fill in the blank. He kissed my neck gingerly and I felt him smiling against my skin.

"We're together, sweetheart. Are you alright with that?" He asked me. I nodded and scooted closer to him. "Good, because I don't know if I would be able to let you go." He whispered. Something about his words touched me deeper than I thought possible. It didn't sound possessive or controlling, like it would if my father had been the one to say it, instead. It sounded honest and sincere. It was almost like he was afraid to let himself think about the possibility of having me in his life. It was something that I wasn't used to. I've getting a lot of that from Peter. "I don't deserve you." His words were almost too quiet for me to hear. I almost didn't catch it.

"What –" I barely had the first word out, when Stiles burst through Peter's bedroom door with a sheepish smile on his face, with Scott hot on his trail.

"The wolfies can hear you talking and I'm starving. Let's eat breakfast! Please." Stiles whined. I laughed, unable to help myself.

"Are you unable to feed yourself, Stiles?" Peter asked him, clearly as amused as I am.

"No, but Lydia said it would be rude to eat without you… since it's your house." He complained. Scott just laughed behind him. I know that Stiles compared his friendship with Scott to that of being brothers, but they honestly do act like siblings.

"Stiles, if you're so hungry – why don't you come help me make breakfast?" Lydia asked from behind them. He closed his mouth and blinked, like the thought had never even occurred to him, but nodded sheepishly, nonetheless. I suppressed a giggle.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Good thinking, Lydia." Scott agreed. They both led him away. "We'll let you know when breakfast is ready." They closed the door behind them. I turned to face Peter, again.

"What do you mean by that? 'You don't deserve me?'" I echoed. I turned carefully to face him and his face gave away nothing.

"I thought it was obvious, sweetheart." He deflected. I just kept staring at him, hoping that he would expand on his vague confession. "You're so… pure in so many ways. It's almost a crime for you to entrust yourself to me. I fear I would corrupt you."

"Corrupt me…" I breathed. I still don't think that I know what he's trying to tell me. Is it because he has a dark side? "What makes you think that I'm that easy to manipulate?" I asked him, before I could stop myself. The corners of his mouth turned up and he looked like I had just surprised him, again.

"Just when I think that I have you figured out, darling, you surprise me." He smirked.

"I could say the same thing about you." I reminded him. "Maybe we're just different enough that we balance each other out." I suggested.

"Perhaps you're right."

The day passed by pretty smoothly. It was nice to have a day without incident. The relaxing day wasn't enough to let me forget about the impending drama that is looming over me. I doubt I'd ever be able to forget that. The more time that I spend away from my father, the more clear it becomes that I was the one deluding myself into ever thinking that he would ever be able to change. He didn't want to be there for me. He only wanted to control me. He wanted to own me. With my father, it always comes down to control.

Once I'm of age, I won't have any legal obligations to stay with father. But, he has made it abundantly clear that the law won't stop him. I'm terrified to even think about what he might try to do to keep me.

I just don't understand why he cares so much now. He couldn't be bothered to be around, when I was growing up… I can't remember him ever being home for my birthday. He was only around for Christmas, because Grams demanded it. Has he always been like this and he just kept it hidden? Did Grams know, and that's why she raised me? Is he the reason that my mother left?

I have so many unanswered questions that I know I know that I will never get answers to. I hate it. It eats me up inside. I don't know how to be okay with never getting the answers…

I'm supposed to be meeting the rest of the pack tomorrow, but I'm on edge. Including tomorrow, there are only two days left until my birthday. I can feel it in my gut that my father is planning something horrible.

What happens if it comes down to him or me? Who will I choose? What will I do? I can't even begin to fathom the possible outcomes. I'm just scared. I'm scared and I'm tired and I'm tired of being scared. When will it stop?

There is something that keeps gnawing at my gut. It's this feeling that my life finally started, whenever we moved to Beacon Hills. I don't know what to make of that, but I believe it.

"I won't let him hurt you, sweetheart." Peter whispered, from the doorway from his bathroom. I was soaking in his bathtub, but I was well covered with hot water and bubbles. I knew he couldn't see anything.

"That's not something you can promise, Peter. You won't always be there to protect me. I don't expect you to." I said the words that I've been aching to say for days.

"I know that, kitten, but I will do everything in my power to ensure that he never lays a finger on you, again." He admitted, as he sat down next to the tub. "I also know that if push came to shove, that you could take care of yourself. Your powers should manifest on your birthday. You won't be able to control them, per se, but it will be instinctive. Your body will know what to do. You just have to trust yourself. You have to remember that it's okay to protect yourself. It's necessary to protect yourself. You're a survivor, Bonnie. Don't let him hurt you. You don't deserve that. Do you hear me? No one deserves that. You deserve so much more." His words wafted through my ears, like a harsh melody that was made just for me. I heard him. I really heard him. "I don't know if I'm saying the right things or going about this the right way… I'm doing this the only way that I know how. I'm afraid that if I treat you too delicately… about facing your father… then you won't survive it."

"Peter," my voice broke and I reached for his hand. He's doing what he's doing, because he cares. He doesn't want me to die. I haven't know this man for long, but in some ways, I feel like I've known him for years. How is this even possible? "Thank you." I breathed. I didn't know what else to say.

He reached for me and pulled me into his arms. He held me and let me cry. The fact that I was soaking wet and covered in soap didn't seem to faze him. He just held me. I heard a knock and looked up to see a red Stiles and an equally embarrassed looking Derek.

"We, um… We just wanted to make sure that you were okay." Derek explained, lamely. He was trying to look anywhere, but at us.

"Thank you, Derek. We're as well as can be expected. We'll be out in a few minutes. Would the two of you mind putting the kettle on. I think some hot tea might help." Peter suggested.

"You got it, big guy." Stiles agreed, before hurrying away, dragging Derek with him.

"I don't think I've ever heard Stiles that quiet before." Peter teased. I laughed, unable to help myself.

"Hey! I heard that!"