~Crown of Thorns~

By: Aerys Krystie.

oOo

Derek was free Tuesdays and Thursdays during summer break. Apparently, most of the people he trained preferred to enjoy their summer break. Jackson showed up at midday on Tuesday, ready to get back into shape. He felt like his wings releasing made him feel fat and lazy. He smiled as Derek stepped out of the house, as though he was waiting for Jackson.

Glancing at the cars, Jackson bit the inside of his lower lip. Derek didn't seem to think that anything would happen to them as he stood across from Jackson, arms crossed. Returning his eyes to the demonesque, Jackson was almost certain the shirt he wore was tighter than normal. Or maybe it was the jeans that were tighter. Something on Derek was tighter than normal. Danny's words ran through his head and Jackson shoved them away.

"I got a proposal for you, Mentor Hale," Jackson said as his wings flapped behind him lazily. "When we spar, if I win, you give me the recipe of your ancestor."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "And what do I get if I win?"

Answers flashed through Jackson's head and he was going to kill Danny for the suggestions. "What do you want?"

Derek smirked and Jackson felt his heart sink. "If I win, you answer three questions honestly."

Jackson blinked and tilted his head. That didn't sound too difficult, depending on the questions. "Okay," he agreed with a smile.

"We'll spar on Thursday," Derek said as he dropped his arms. "Show me your stance."

Jackson's sword materialized beside his hip. Derek stared at it and Jackson shrugged. "This is my stance," he said and Derek frowned. "Unless there's something for me to attack, I just stand here and wait."

Derek nodded and created five strawmen. "How would you work through them?" His eyes widened as the strawmen fell to pieces before he finished asking the question.

Jackson stood in his relaxed position, sword hovering by his hip. "Like that," he answered.

The busted strawmen disappeared and five more appeared. "Go through it slowly. I need to see where you think you need to improve."

Jackson nodded and gripped his sword. Almost as though he was walking, he decapitated the strawman on his far right, kicking the one beside it in the same motion, before he turned around and sliced his sword along the torso. He ducked down, essentially cutting out the legs of the middle strawman and running his sword through the last two, ripping out through their chests.

Standing back, the sword hovered by his hip as he awaited Derek's assessment of his technique and skill. The demonesque mostly stared at him, face blank. Derek's eyes dropped to the strawmen and then back to Jackson, who was trying his hardest not to look nervous. He had only done what his instinct told him to, as that had been the fastest, cleanest and less torturous way to kill the victims.

Derek exhaled and frowned, looking between Jackson and the strawmen. "Why do you think you need improvement? Your technique is a little sloppy, but that could be because you went slow for me. Your instinct is to move through quickly, remove the threat as quickly as possible." The strawmen reappeared. "Do it again, regular speed."

Jackson nodded and went through the motions again, standing back after a few seconds. Derek had watched every movement of his and then stared at him, shaking his head. Jackson wasn't sure what that meant. Maybe he was sloppier when he was quicker. Jackson didn't feel as though he had done anything worse than when he did it slowly.

"God, you're good," Derek muttered. He sighed and crossed his arms. "I don't know what you expect from me, Jackson. When moving as you would on a battlefield, your technique is flawless. When did you learn the skills to move like that?"

Jackson blinked. "That was instinct," he answered.

"Fuck, I wish Scott had your instinct," Derek said. "There's nothing I can teach you that you don't already know. Your instinct and skills are one. If you want to spar, I can be your partner if you want to challenge yourself. Aside from that…you're perfect."

Jackson felt his wings stretch out at the compliment and quickly pulled them back. He nodded at Derek and the strawmen disappeared. "In that case, guess I'll see you on Thursday, then," he said as his sword vanished from his side.

Derek cleaned up the straw. "Can you arrive half an hour earlier? There's someone I think I need help with. He's a bit of a…walking catastrophe with his sword. I can't seem to get it through his head where he's going wrong."

Jackson frowned and nodded. "What's the problem with him?"

"His form," Derek answered as he stood beside Jackson. "He has a sword similar to yours, so I'm hoping you can help him with his stance."

Jackson shrugged. "I can try. My stance and form came from instinct. If they don't have that, it'll be difficult to teach it," he said and glanced at Derek. "Are you trying to eat up that half hour so I have to pay you?"

"That," Derek began and smirked at Jackson. "Or I enjoy your company." Jackson cocked an eyebrow. "You're the only 'student' of mine that actually knows what they're doing. Scott is terrified he's going to hurt me with his sword. That kid I mentioned earlier apparently couldn't attack straight if his life depended on it, without someone to hold him up."

Jackson chuckled. Derek sounded like Deucalion when it came to his students. "Why take any on to train if you weren't prepared for the idiots?" he asked.

"Don't get me wrong, they're great when they let go of their insecurities," Derek said and held his hands up, which Jackson refused to look at them. "It's a matter of getting them to do that, though." He sighed and tilted his head back. "You would've been a dream to train."

"My mentor over east didn't think so. It took me a while to learn his lessons, until I just let instinct take over. There's a reason it took three months. God, that's embarrassing." Jackson shook his head. "Hand-to-hand combat took the longest."

"Three months? It took three months for you to not need a mentor anymore?" Derek sighed and crossed his arms. "I've been training Scott for over a year and he's nowhere near your level. Three months sounds really good." He glanced at Jackson. "How's your magic?"

Jackson turned to the side, standing in front of Derek. "Wanna find out?" he asked, eyes flashing playfully. "I'm gonna make you earn that eighty bucks, Hale."

Derek raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging his lips as his hands rested flat against Jackson's shoulders. A blast of air shot from his hands, counteracted by a strong flap from Jackson's wings. Jackson jumped back, landing lightly, silver flames appearing in his hands. Black flames extended from Derek's right hand, while black sand swirled in his left. Jackson had never seen such beautiful magic before.

Jackson tilted his head, his flames jumping in front of him, becoming circles around him. His eyes focused on the sand in Derek's hand and the demonesque's eyes widened as the sand became black glass. Jackson smirked, bringing his hands above his head. The circles connected and began morphing taking on the shape of an eagle that screeched as it swooped down at Derek, who cracked the whip and wrapped it around the neck of the eagle.

Blinking, Jackson watched as he beheaded the bird and recalled the flames back to him. Derek glanced at the black glass in his hand, which hovered and fired Jackson. Eyes flashing silver for half a moment, the glass turned into sand again, becoming silver as Jackson gathered it in his hand. Jackson closed his hand and the sand turned to ice, thin discs that were thrown at Derek, who was surprisingly precise with his whip. The heat of the flames melted the ice and Derek collected it in his hand.

The black water was dropped and Jackson frowned, seeing Derek's tail materialize behind him, it curled around his leg as his whip did. Derek's eyes flashed black and Jackson stood his ground, eyes narrowing as he stopped the water from rising behind him. The silver flames dove into the ground and steam rose from the leaflitter, Derek growling as his tail unwound from his leg, swaying behind him. The sunlight glinted off the silver tail, which was distracting to Jackson. Every so often, there was a flash of light when the tail moved.

Jackson called the flames back to his hands and straightened his shoulders. The flames moved up his arms and onto his wings, which had Derek's eyes widening as the Fallen hovered. The flames on his wings pulsed and increased in heat. Jackson closed his eyes and tilted his head back, inhaling deeply. When he opened his eyes and leveled his head, he smirked down at Derek, his wings snapping around in front of him. The flames were fired, almost like bullets from the feathers. Derek cursed and dodged them, the soil where the flames touched turned to glass in an instant.

Dropping to the ground, Jackson got a knee in front of Derek, the smirk still in place. "I win," he said.

Derek raised his head, grinning. Black flames appearing in front of him made Jackson fall back onto his ass. Derek lunged and Jackson got a foot to the demonesque's stomach, flipping him over and landing on top of him. He laughed, which was cut short when Derek easily overpowered him. He may have forgotten that he was only fifteen and his muscles were still developing.

For the first time in his life, Jackson had no problem rolling around in the leaflitter. As much as he wanted to continue wrestling with Derek, he didn't have the strength to flip him again. He caught his breath, grinning up at Derek, which froze when he realized his wings had wrapped around Derek. His wings were pulling Derek down on top of him, forcing the demonesque down. Swallowing, Jackson forced his wings to flop before Derek noticed and mentioned it.

"You only won because you're bigger," Jackson said as Derek smirked and stood up, offering his hand. Jackson accepted it, his wings flapping behind him.

"Your wings are beautiful," Derek said as he pulled his hand back.

Jackson shrugged and pulled them behind him, hiding them as much as possible, crossing his arms over his chest. "So is your tail," he said and nodded at the silver tail wrapped around Derek's left thigh. The tip was interesting, reminding Jackson of a flame.

Derek glanced at the tail and shrugged, crossing his arms as well. "Guess we're both a little self-conscious about our attachments," he said as his tail disappeared.

With the tail gone, Jackson knew he should look away from the thigh; knew he should finally look back at Derek's face. He didn't, though. He continued to stare at the strong thigh that was wrapped with tight denim. A shiver ran down his spine, except there was no breeze. He stepped back from Derek, wishing his phone would vibrate and give him something to do that wasn't staring at a demonesque that was too old for him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." His wings moved under his skin and Jackson stepped further from Derek. He wasn't going through that again. Thankfully, he had been too busy trying to best Derek to realize how good the demonesque felt atop him, how good he smelled, sweat and leather, along with a heat from his black flames. "Fine," he added and finally turned his head, looking towards the house.

"Did I say something wrong? I know you don't like your wings, because they prove you're adopted. I just wanted you to know that they're beautiful," Derek said softly.

Jackson frowned at him, surprised by the gentleness of the words. For a brief moment, he thought about showing his halo, just to prove another reason why he didn't like his wings and why hid them as much as possible. "I should go. I'll help you with that kid on Thursday," he said, stepping further from Derek, until there was at least six feet between them. "See ya then, Hale."

Derek nodded as Jackson jumped up, wings flapping behind him. Closing his eyes, Jackson shook his head. He was such an idiot. If Danny hadn't mentioned how good Derek looked, Jackson wouldn't have noticed it. He would have continued to admire Derek, sure, but not see him as a potential partner. Opening his eyes, he glared ahead. That's all it was. He was a little confused because of what Danny said. It didn't matter that Derek challenged him in ways no one else could.

At that moment, his phone chimed and vibrated in his back pocket. Of course it would pick while he was flying to give him a notification. He landed on the roof of the house and pulled out his phone. He opened the contract and blinked at it. He wasn't asked to kill someone, but to destroy a building. How in the hell was he meant to destroy a building?

Slipping into his bedroom, Jackson showered and dressed, grabbing his go bag. He ordered a plane ticket to New York and went downstairs. His mother was in the kitchen, cleaning up after lunch. "I'll be in New York for a couple of days," he said and she looked up, blinking at him. "Contract. Could you tell Derek that I probably won't make it to training on Thursday?"

His mother frowned and nodded, before she stepped up to him and hugged him tightly. "Have a safe trip," she said and smiled. Jackson nodded and ordered an Uber.

Turned out that destroying a building was easier than he thought. As the nightlife died down slightly, as New York City was one that barely slept, he stared at the electronics company skyscraper. He knew there were people in there, which resulted in him calling in a bomb threat to the police station. The moment the workers evacuated the building, Jackson's left hand twitched. A black feather with a red sheen appeared between his fingers and he tilted his head, throwing it at the building. It lodged in the mortar and he snapped his fingers, eyes widening as the red streaked up the building like veins. They pulsed and exploded, bringing down the building. He had no idea who wanted a building destroyed, but he knew what the red feathers did.

On Thursday, Jackson flew towards the Hale manor. He landed on the roof and stared down at the ground. Derek was working with the kid that kept giving Jackson a hard time for being Disgraced. He watched the way Derek kept trying to tell the kid how to hold himself when he had his sword in hand. The kid apparently didn't understand it, until Derek was forced to touch him and change his stance. Jackson felt his halo materialize and the flames around his halo blazed, to the point that the other two looked up towards him as the halo vanished.

Crossing his arms, Jackson didn't move and continued to watch them. The kid was shielding his eyes, as though there was someone else in Beacon Hills with black wings. Derek said nothing as he went on with the lesson, bringing his sword into reality and moving slowly, trying to teach the kid how to defend himself. Jackson walked along the roof and stepped off, floating down to the ground. The kid used his appearance as an excuse to get a cut on his arm.

"Shit," Derek muttered, his sword vanishing. "Jackson, can you get the first aid kit from inside?" he asked as the kid cradled his arm, glaring at Jackson, like it was his fault.

Jackson turned around and entered the house, realizing he had no idea where the first aid kit was. He searched the first floor and found Laura in the living room. She had a file on her lap, but the TV had her attention more than that did. "First aid kit?" Jackson asked and Laura blinked, glancing at him.

"In the kitchen, on top of the fridge. Derek cut him again, huh?"

"It's happened more than once?" Jackson asked, wrinkling his nose. He remembered how much Deucalion's whip staff had hurt. He worked hard to make sure he didn't feel that pain again.

"Oh yeah. I think he likes the way Derek babies him." Laura shuddered.

Jackson raised an eyebrow and shook his head, going into the kitchen. He grabbed the first aid kit and left the house, tossing it to Derek. He watched as Derek was exceptionally tender with the kid, as though he was some kind of crystal vase. When Derek's eyes were fixed on the small cut, the kid's eyes flashed over to Jackson and he smirked. Jackson kept his anger under control. Derek wasn't his and that kid was the reason why Jackson wasn't pursuing him.

Derek finished bandaging the arm and stood back. He tossed the kit back to Jackson. "Thanks," he said with a smile, which had the kid straightening his arm and hissing slightly. "Does it still hurt?"

"A little bit," the kid said with a slight pout. "I can continue with the lesson, though."

Derek smiled and nodded, as though the kid was taking some kind of big risk. "I asked Jackson to join us, because he uses a weapon similar to yours. I want you to watch Jackson's form."

Jackson's wings vanished and his sword appeared by his right hip. He handed the kit to the kid and stood opposite of Derek, gazing at him with cold eyes. He knew it wasn't Derek's fault that he had suitors panting after him, but that didn't stop his anger from pulsing through him like it was a parasite. Derek frowned at him and gestured for Jackson to take his sword.

The kid watched them and Jackson beckoned Derek to attack him. Derek frowned, but rushed at Jackson, who caught his wrist and punched his jaw. The kid's eyes widened as Derek fell to a knee in front of Jackson, working his jaw. Derek glared up at him and Jackson crossed his arms, wishing it was the kid he was beating the shit out of, as that was what he wanted.

Derek stood up, backing away a few feet. "With your weapon this time," he ordered and Jackson cocked his head to the side.

Gripping the handle of his sword, Jackson stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, hands by his sides. Derek sighed and straightened. "It's a stance. Chodź do mnie, Hale."

Derek frowned, confused on the last line. "What the hell has gotten into you, Jackson?" he demanded. "Take a fighting stance. I brought you here for educational purposes. Put your differences aside and help me teach Matt."

Jackson glared at the one named Matt. He finally had a name for the little puke. Matt was watching them, wide-eyed and appearing far more innocent than he actually was. Jackson had never wanted to challenge someone as badly as he did when he saw that expression on Matt's face. He was trying to win Derek over that way? Derek needed someone that knew what they were doing and could be a benefit to him and his family.

"On jest mój," he said to Matt, who blinked at him. "Podejdź do niego ponownie, a posmakujesz mojej stali w zaświatach."

While Matt continued to stare at him with confusion, Jackson straightened his shoulders and raised his sword in a basic, simple stance. Any idiot could copy it. Derek relaxed his shoulders and gave Jackson a small smile, grateful that he was finally doing what he was meant to. Matt shook his head and looked at Jackson as Derek approached him, slowly.

"See how he sets his feet? He's on his toes, which means he can turn any direction," Derek explained, sword disappearing from his hand. He placed his hands on Jackson's hips. "His hips are square, which means his balance is perfect. His spine is straight." He placed his hands on Jackson's shoulders. "Shoulders are straight and relaxed. He's ready for an attack for any direction, even behind him." He ran a hand down Jackson's arm. "Every part of your body is a weapon."

Matt growled, his horns and tail coming out as he watched the way Derek touched Jackson. He called forth his sword, dropping the kit. Jackson kept his eyes forward, waiting for an attack and ignoring the way Derek touched him. If he gave into it, he knew his wings would release again and he wasn't doing that in front of Matt. Chances were, he already knew about the Fourth of July incident.

"As he's angelesque," Derek continued, placing a hand on Jackson's abdomen. "His core is strong, ready to jump back and fly, should he need to gain some distance from his enemy." He stepped back and touched the arm that held the sword. "See how his elbow is in line with his shoulder? Everything is perfect, straight and relaxed."

Matt nodded, a slight pout on his face as he copied Jackson's stance. "Like this?"

Derek moved to Matt, lowering the elbow of the arm with the sword and straightened his shoulders. "You'll get the hang of it the more often you do it. This is the perfect stance for facing a challenger." He glanced at Jackson from the corner of his eyes. "It lets you see exactly what your opponent will do. Now, watch Jackson."

Looking at Derek, Jackson raised an eyebrow. He had no idea what he was meant to do after that. Derek frowned at him and Jackson sighed, rolling his eyes. He pulled his arm back a little, feeling Derek and Matt watching him closely as showed Matt three simple moves with his sword, which was similar to Jackson's. It looked a little heavier and broader, but Matt was showing great dexterity by using it one-handed. After showing a downward slash, an upward slash and a horizontal slash, Jackson stood back, sword hovering by his hip.

Derek stood in front of Matt, sword in his hand, while Matt practiced the swings. Jackson wasn't sure how often they got to that. It didn't seem like it was often enough, as he could tell that Matt was getting tired as he repeated the motions, until Derek was satisfied. That seemed to take up the last part of the lesson, with Derek smiling at Matt, as though he had made massive strides in his stance. He was still flat-footed, his shoulders kept going out of line, as did his hips.

Once Matt's mother picked him up and paid Derek, the demonesque waved as they left and then turned his attention to Jackson. "What the fuck was half of that?" he demanded.

Jackson's sword vanished and he shrugged. "Nothing," he said turning around and heading away from the house.

"Get back here, Whittemore," Derek snapped and Jackson stopped, glaring over his shoulder. "Your lesson is starting now. I'm gonna work that anger out of you. Let's go."

Jackson turned around and tilted his head. He shrugged and went over to Derek, sword appearing by his right hip, while Derek's appeared by his left thigh. He kept his arms crossed over his chest, watching Derek. He couldn't attack first, even if he wanted to. Derek had to know that he was all about defense, with the intent to kill. Derek sighed and grabbed his sword, rushing Jackson, who ducked and weaved the attacks.

"Take this seriously, Whittemore," Derek snarled, his fist meeting Jackson's abdomen, who gasped.

Jackson stepped back, rubbing the area Derek just attacked and frowned at him. Derek was the first one to land an attack on him since Deucalion. Derek rolled his shoulders as he stepped back, a glare on his face and Jackson matched it, gripping his sword. He had been forced to work through worse pain from Deucalion and Derek had barely used any strength in the punch.

"Like how you are? You barely touched me with that punch," he said and raised an eyebrow.

"I doubt your young body could handle me being serious," Derek taunted and Jackson glared.

"Bring it on, Hale."

Their swords clashed and they broke apart, neither yielding. They met in the center of the yard again, sparks flying from black and silver swords. Both tried to muscle their way past the other. Even though Derek was older and more developed, he couldn't find a way to overpower Jackson and force him to submit. Jackson knew he didn't have a chance in hell of beating someone like Derek, who practically lived and breathed like a demonesque Fallen. Perhaps that's where the attraction came from.

They broke apart again and watched the other. Derek rushed him and Jackson turned his sword around, using the blunt edge against Derek's wrist, forcing his sword down into the ground. He crouched on Derek's sword, staring into his eyes, surprised they were such a pretty green. Derek's eyes moved from his face to where he was crouching, taking no damage. Jackson assumed Derek didn't realize angelesques that could fly were feather light when it was needed.

Jackson placed his sword against Derek's throat. "This is what happens when neither of us is serious," he said and stepped off Derek's sword, keeping his to the demonesque's throat. "You lose."

Derek stared at Jackson for a moment, before a smirk crossed his face. "Did I, though?"

Jackson frowned and went to step back, only to trip over something. His eyes widened when he saw a whip in Derek's hand, the tail around his ankles. How did he not feel that? How did he not see that? He knew how he missed it, as he hadn't taken his eyes from Derek's face. Deucalion's words ran through his mind, almost taunting him. There will be surprises. He should have known Derek would have a backup something.

Derek stood over him, sword pointed to his throat and a smirk on his lips. "I thought Disgraced were better than this," he said and Jackson's eyes narrowed.

Growling, Jackson cut the leather around his ankles and pushed up, his feet connecting with Derek's chest hard enough to shove him back several feet. He was tired of being referred to as a Disgraced. It was just another reminder that he couldn't be what he was born as. He wasn't the demonesque that his biological parents thought he would be. He wasn't the demonesque his adoptive parents thought he would be. He was a freak with the grace of an archangel that was bent on cleansing the world through flames and murder.

Derek cracked his whip, his stigma repairing it almost instantly and he grinned at Jackson, who straightened his shoulders. He kept the glare on his face, wanting Derek to believe he was losing himself to his anger. He almost was, but there was no way he was going to slip so much that Derek saw his halo. After what happened when he was on the roof, he wasn't going to let his anger rule him like that ever again.

Jackson rolled his wrist, watching Derek's breathing, watching the way he held himself, the way his weapons floated by his thighs as he shrugged out of his leather jacket and tossed it aside. The cracking whip almost echoed around the preserve and Jackson felt his spine straighten. He had seen how good Derek was with his fire whip. He could only imagine an actual whip would be just as deadly.

As he stared at the whip, Jackson realized that Derek had the perfect weapons. He could attack from a distance, while killing those that got too close. Blinking up at the demonesque, Jackson inhaled deeply and got into his usual stance. Derek tilted his head slightly, surprised that he was waiting for the attack. Jackson wondered when Derek was going to figure it out. He would only ever attack in defense of himself or others.

Derek ran his eyes over his stance, taking in the perfect lines of his young frame. Jackson felt his toes curl in his shoes, keeping his eyes on Derek's body. He was waiting for a different inhale, a twitch to one side, the grip to tighten on one of the weapons. Derek was waiting for the same thing with him and Jackson was almost grateful to disappoint him.

Derek's right shoulder tensed and Jackson's right arm twitched, cutting the leather of the whip. Derek recalled it and it repaired. They stared at each other, realizing that they were in a stalemate. Both knew the other couldn't land an attack. They could fight for hours and get nowhere, which just infuriated Jackson. He was better than that. Somehow, he wasn't good enough to beat Derek and had to settle for a stalemate.

"Why don't you attack?" Derek asked, grip tightening on his sword. "You never attack first, even though if you did, you could win."

"I don't see you as a mentor," Jackson said, tensing his shoulders. He only attacked Deucalion after he had been beaten down. Derek had yet to beat him down properly, cause him actual pain. He wasn't a threat to anyone around. "I have no reason to be half-serious with you, because I know you won't hurt me."

Derek smirked, whip cracking. Jackson winced as it split the skin on his right shoulder. He growled and rushed Derek, dodging his whip. Their swords collided and Jackson's knee met Derek's ribs. The demonesque snarled and Jackson lifted his leg to block Derek's kick to his knee. His left hand grabbed Derek's right wrist, realizing how awkward it was that Derek used his left hand for his sword. He was going to assume that's why Derek did it.

Derek growled deep in his chest and shoved Jackson back, who landed lightly on his feet. The whip cracked again and Jackson spun to the side, glaring when the tail wrapped around his right wrist. He dropped the sword, cutting the leather. Derek raised an eyebrow as Jackson changed his stance. It was the same as it was before, except his left was his attacking side.

Jackson rushed Derek again, their swords meeting once more, but his right hand gripped his second sword. Derek cried out as his wrist was pierced and stared at the second sword, eyes wide. "What, you think you're the only one that can dual-wield, Hale?" He smirked and flipped Derek over his shoulder, his left sword going through Derek's left shoulder. "Always expect surprises," he murmured into Derek's ear, nuzzling under it.

Standing up, Jackson removed his swords from the demonesque, who groaned and gritted his teeth. The swords vanished and Jackson's left hand twitched. The blue-sheened feather embedded in Derek's thigh and he snapped his fingers. Derek sat up and frowned, checking his wrist and shoulder. He stared at Jackson, getting to his feet and rolled his shoulder.

"You can heal?" Derek asked and Jackson gave a one shoulder shrug.

"Sometimes," he answered.

"And you can dual-wield…" Derek shook his head, staring at Jackson.

"Yes, I can sing and dance, too," Jackson muttered with a roll of his eyes. "I've never had to dual-wield with you before, because you didn't treat me like a threat."

"You aren't a threat… Are you?" Derek asked, rubbing his right wrist.

"I won the fight, Hale," Jackson said with a smirk, leaning in close to the demonesque, who stared down at him. "I think I get those recipes from your ancestor."

Derek blinked and stepped back, nodding. "I'll bring them around on Saturday, along with the ingredients," he said and Jackson frowned, but stepped back as well.

"Sounds good. I'll see you then." Jackson moved around Derek and paused, looking over his shoulder as the demonesque turned around. "No, I'm not a threat," he answered and lowered his eyes. "At least, I don't believe I am."

Derek's brow furrowed and he nodded. "I don't think you are, either. Black wings doesn't mean a black heart. My mother taught me that."

Jackson raised his eyes. "My mother taught me to use everyone around to my advantage," he said and his wings appeared behind him, blocking his view of Derek. "Catch you Saturday."

When Saturday rolled around, Jackson visited Danny, mostly so he wouldn't have to see Derek. If he ignored and avoided the demonesque, he wouldn't have weird thoughts about someone that was six years his senior. He could almost see Deucalion rolling his eyes at him finding someone so much older than him as a potential mate. Still, it was nice to be around Danny and switch his brain off. He didn't need to think about anything, as they watched trash television. He didn't need to be anything, except the best friend of Danny Mahealani, which worked very well for him. He spent most of the day laying on the sofa, his head resting on Danny's knees.

oOo

Jackson turned down the invitation to the Hale Halloween party, citing that he had mountains of homework to do, as his contracts kept him busy. His parents bought it and left him alone for the night. Jackson had invited Stiles and Scott over, knowing that Danny would be at the Hale manor, hopefully trying to seduce Derek. Scott and Stiles helped him hand out candy to the trick-or-treaters, while Jackson completed his required reading. He wrote his essay on Samhain and took over candy duties once he was finished. He handed out chocolate bars to Scott and Stiles as a 'thank you.' It was probably the best way to spend Halloween, even if Danny wasn't there to share it with him.

oOo

The Christmas Eve dinner party saw Jackson upstairs, having pushed off his wing release for two weeks in order to make sure it happened the day before the party. Unfortunately, Jackson forgot that Derek had dropped off the recipes of his ancestor. His mother mixed the perfect batch and Jackson was forced to drink them, under her watch and she poured the yellow one onto his wounds. They were healed enough for him to retract his wings the night of the dinner party. After that, Jackson just refused to leave his bedroom, despite the fact Danny, Scott and Stiles were downstairs, with Allison and Lydia. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Derek, even though he did want to see Danny awkwardly flirt with the man.

"Get downstairs," David ordered, bursting in Jackson's bedroom. "Your friends are asking for you. I don't know what your problem is recently, but you need to stop being selfish."

Jackson spun around, halo out and blazing brightly. "What did you just say to me?" he demanded, wings looming behind him as he stepped closer to his father.

David's eyes flitted from the halo, to the wings, to his son's face and repeated the loop. "You heard me, Jackson. Get downstairs and mingle with people. Or at the very least, your friends." His voice didn't hold the ire it did before.

Jackson hid his halo again and turned his back to his father. "They can come up and see me, if they want. I am not going down there." He gasped as his father grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the bedroom door. "Dad, what the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

"You're going to make an appearance, apologize because you got caught up in your homework and mingle with the very important people that have come to visit us," David stated and Jackson blinked at him, wondering why it mattered that much.

Jackson rarely spoke with the people his parents invited over, making general polite conversation and being bored out of his brain. He sighed softly and let his father pull him downstairs, not surprised to see Stiles and Lydia waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Lydia grinned and pulled Jackson over to the living room entrance, holding him there for a moment. Jackson frowned and Lydia looked up. He followed her eyes and nodded, giving her a quick kiss on the lips.

Lydia was moved out of the way and Danny raised an eyebrow at him. Jackson sighed and rolled his eyes, giving Danny a kiss on the cheek. He cleared his throat and Jackson growled, giving him a quick peck on the lips. Danny grinned and joined the party again, while Jackson kept close to Lydia and Stiles, figuring if he looked like he was lost in conversation with others, no one would bother him.

At the drinks table, Jackson grabbed some punch put out for the children and tensed when someone stood behind him. "What's up, Disgraced?" a familiar, sneering voice asked.

Jackson turned around, seeing Matt behind him, a smirk on his face. "What rock did you slither out from under to attend this party?" he inquired politely, a charming smile on his face.

"Oh, I'm here as a plus one." Matt smiled up at Derek.

Jackson glanced at Derek. "Good evening, Mister Hale," he greeted and returned his eyes to Matt. "I'm over it."

"Hello, Mister Whittemore," Derek said and sipped his punch.

Jackson frowned and tilted his head. He felt Lydia's hand on his and glanced at her. She gave a slight nod and Jackson turned his back to Matt. "Enjoy the rest of the party," he said, spreading his wings as a way to mentally and physically block Matt from his mind.

"That's a powerful potion he used on Derek," Lydia said as she stared at the Hale son. "It's almost bordering on illegal." She sighed and shook her head. "I'm curious on how he managed to get Derek to drink it."

Jackson turned around and scanned the faces in the living room. He walked through, checking all the rooms, trying to find another Hale in the house. When he checked outside, he frowned. It was only Derek there, with Matt as his plus one. That didn't make any sense to him, considering the invitation would have been sent to Talia. She wouldn't have missed the party for anything short of a family emergency. Considering her brother was still in the hospital after the horrible car fire, he sort of understood her not coming.

Spinning around, Jackson ran inside and found Scott talking with Allison by the billiard table. "Is your mom working tonight?" he asked and Scott frowned.

"Yeah," he answered and blinked.

"Text her and tell her that I'll be breaking into Peter Hale's room," Jackson said and jogged out of the games room.

"You're gonna do what?" Scott called after him.

Jackson brushed past Derek, sticking him with a blue-sheened feather. He snapped his fingers and Derek blinked, shaking his head and looking around. Jackson accidentally knocked the punch from his hand and stared up at him. "Oh, I'm so sorry," he said as sarcastically as possible.

Matt glared at him, before he realized that Derek wasn't enchanted. "What did you do?" he demanded.

"What did you do? Did you make it so his uncle almost died?" Jackson hissed as he stepped closer to Matt. "Going after someone's family is a low move, even for a demonesque."

"Wait, what?" Derek asked, glancing between the pair in front of him. "What are you doing here, Matt? Where's my family?"

Jackson glanced at Derek for a moment, before he turned around and walked out of the living room. He left through the front door and beat his wings, taking to the night sky. He soared towards the hospital, landing in front of the entrance and walked in. He had no idea where Peter Hale was and created a small fire with an orange-sheened feather to get the nurses away from their station. He stared at their system, not sure if he knew what he was doing. He found a search function and looked up Peter Hale, finding his room number.

After shutting down the search, Jackson slipped out from the station, letting the nurses comfort people after the fire was out, others trying to find a reason for the fire in the first place. Jackson made his way around the hallways of the hospital, searching for the room number he was after. He found Cora outside a room, while Laura and Talia spoke with a doctor.

Jackson sat beside Cora. "What's going on?" he asked quietly and Cora jumped slightly, blinking. Tears fell from her eyes.

"Uncle Peter…he slipped into a coma," she whispered and wiped her cheeks. "He was getting better, too. I mean…slowly, but he was still getting there."

Jackson hugged her, unsure of what other comfort he could offer at that moment. He just needed a moment alone in the room with Peter. He never would have guessed that Matt was so good with his hexes and potions. Cora sniffled and pulled back, smiling slightly at him, before her eyes were drawn to something in the hallway. She stood up and ran down the hall, throwing her arms around Derek, sobbing into his shoulder.

Talia and Laura turned around, their eyes glancing over Jackson. They and the doctor moved down the hallway and Jackson took his opportunity. He stood up and slipped into the room, listening to the beeping of the heart machine. He stepped past the curtain and his eyes widened at the scarred man laying on the bed. He shook his head. He was only there to cure the hex. The hospital staff could work on the magic that was still leaving him basically lifeless.

A blue-sheened feather embedded in the scarred arm and Jackson snapped his fingers. Peter's eyes opened and he gasped, a strange, raspy sound. The pale blue eyes moved over to him and Jackson's wings moved further behind him. Peter's eyes moved above his head and he rasped again. Jackson frowned and looked up, seeing nothing up there. He knew for a fact that his halo was hidden.

The door to the room opened and Jackson looked over his shoulder, blinking at Melissa McCall. She stared at him, before her eyes dropped to Peter and her eyes widened. "He's awake," she breathed and ran from the room.

Jackson turned to follow her, but a sudden strong grip on his wrist stopped him. Peter stared at him and Jackson frowned. "…all…en," he croaked around his destroyed vocal cords.

Shaking his head, Jackson said, "Disgraced."

The family and doctor rushed into the room, the curtain ripping back. Talia's eyes widened when she saw Jackson there. He smiled and gently removed Peter's hand from his wrist. He stepped back from the bed as the doctor made his inspections. Jackson gave a half-smile and left the room. He stopped when Derek said his name, but refused to turn around and see him.

"Thank you."

Jackson turned his head, most of his face hidden by the arch of his wing. "I didn't do anything," he said and continued down the hallway. All he had to do was figure out how Matt did what he did and find a way to gather evidence. He'd rather murder a guilty party than an innocent one.

End Chapter.

Thanks for reading. Hope y'all enjoyed it.

Nameless in Seat: Thanks for the comment. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, too. Can't wait to hear from you again.

Until the next one!

Peace.
Auska.