Title: all in a twilight, you and I alike

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Browning

Warnings: mentions of death/murder/violence; remembered child sexual abuse

Pairings: Peter/Stiles, Kate/Stiles

Rating: PG13

Wordcount: 635

Point of view: third

Prompt: Placebo's 'The Bitter End'

Derek has learnt some new tricks, in the years since the fire. That's the only reason Peter can think of, for Derek to sneak up on him and Stiles in Stiles' room. Peter should have sensed him coming, heard him or smelled him, but the first he's aware of the boy, Derek is roaring and lunging for him.

Which, yes, that's understandable since Peter was spread out over Stiles and biting down on his shoulder, exactly where he'd turned him.

No human could have snuck up, no matter how distracted Peter was. But Derek is family so Peter's instincts aren't at 100% when it comes to him.

Stiles is growling, and Derek snarling, and Peter grabs Derek and slams him into the floor. Stiles knows better than to get involved; in fact, clever boy, he throws himself out of range, watching from the doorway to his room as Peter keeps slamming Derek back down every time he tries to move. Finally, with a sub-vocal whine, Derek stops fighting. He exhales heavily and lets his head tilt back, baring his throat.

Peter smiles at the submission. "Confession is good for the soul, dear nephew," he says, claws scrapping up against Derek's throat. "Every time you've come to see me, you smelled like guilt. Tell me why."

"Because the fire was my fault," Derek chokes out, sounding so young and so broken. "I thought she loved me and I told her everything. And she burned – she burned my pack alive."

"Our pack," Peter murmurs, loosening his grip. He stares down at Derek, at the pup he once cradled in his arms. He was the only one who could soothe Derek to sleep, when Derek was four months old. If anyone else tried, Derek howled. For Peter, he slipped right into dreams.

"I didn't know what I was smelling, those weeks before the fire," Peter says, sitting back on his haunches to let Derek breathe. Derek stares at him, wide-eyed. Stiles shifts in place in the doorway, but Peter keeps his gaze on Derek. "I didn't know the stench of Argent; I didn't smell it clinging to you." Derek flinches, dropping his gaze. "You were a child, Derek. Fourteen years old and stupid."

Younger than Stiles is, now. Younger than Peter can remember being.

"Very, very stupid," Peter continues, "but those of us older than you should have scented it. In hindsight, she was not as clever as she thought." He leans back in to set one claw to Derek's jugular. Derek doesn't move, doesn't beg.

He just closes his eyes and it breaks Peter's heart.

"You are not blameless, nephew," Peter murmurs, gently dragging his claw along Derek's throat, barely marring the skin. "But it is not possible for me to punish you worse than you have yourself, these six long years. You have held yourself more accountable than I ever could."

Derek breathes out, opening his eyes.

"I am your alpha," Peter says.

Derek nods. "Yes, Uncle Peter," he says softly, and a part of Peter wishes he were still that pup, clinging to Peter's fingers. It sounds like a sob is caught in Derek's throat as he says, "You're my alpha."

Stiles whimpers, barely audible, and they both look over at him. "You are still first beta, Stiles," Peter assures him. "But your lessons with Derek will continue."

Derek's loyalty to Peter is tenuous; the fact that they are blood kin carries heavy weight, but Peter killed Derek's true alpha, a born alpha, something neither of them is. But Derek already cares for Stiles, and if he can get past this betrayal…

Yes. Derek must spend as much time with Stiles as possible, until they all execute the Argents together. Then, Peter can start to build the Hale pack up, back to what it used to be.