Chapter Title: Devil in Your Eye

Author's Note: Still here! Are any of you? Onwards to chapter 6! I loved writing Peter – he was hilarious to recreate!

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership or copyright of anything depicted or over anything you might recognize.

His side ached again.

Once the sedatives had started to wear off, and he no longer spent most of his time asleep, a persistent, burning ache had taken a firm hold in Stiles' abdomen. The claw marks that had torn through his skin were deep and slow to heal – in his unbiased, professional opinion.

Whenever he moved or breathed, the wounds would pull painfully, sending shocking darts of agony across his chest and down his legs. The small walks he was capable of doing rendered him exhausted and hurting, and usually kept him immobile for the rest of the day, no matter the dosage of pain meds or the number of times Scott siphoned some of it. Being forced to remain so stationary, it left his thoughts fidgeting and fleeting, anxious to move.

It also meant he was completely and thoroughly bored out of his mind. He wasn't able to do anything other than sleep and watch daytime TV. Scott's constant presence helped alleviate some of the boredom, even if it was just the two of them staring at a television screen. They did spend some of the time discussing the ominous presence of the homicidal werewolf, lurking somewhere in the shadows of Beacon Hills. Alexander had yet to resurface, and his scent hadn't either. One upside of that, was no one had been killed since Stiles' attack.

But the complete disappearance had left the whole pack scattered and holding their collective breaths in apprehensive anticipation of what would happen next. It was also why Stiles' room was currently fully occupied by pack members, as they debated their next move.

Scott remained glued by Stiles' bedside, hovering protectively at the headboard, while Lydia had taken custody over the chair, he had otherwise been occupying for several days. Kira stood awkwardly behind Scott, still not entirely sure of her position in the pack yet, despite of everyone else told her. Derek was leaned up against the wall, arms crossed and with his normal brooding face, and as far away from the gathered teenagers as possible. Stiles, being unable to be anywhere else, sat propped up in the hospital bed, one arm wrapped protectively around his sore midsection.

They had refrained from dragging Malia into this whole mess yet, as she was still adjusting to normal, teenage life in high school. She had been by earlier, though where she had proclaimed in a neutral, matter-of-fact tone that she was glad Stiles wasn't dead.

So… Progress.

"You have got to be kidding me," Lydia's exasperated voice pulled Stiles back to the present.

Her piercing gaze was directed out the open door and onto the person waltzing down the hallway, headed directly for Stiles' room. A bored and annoyed-looking Peter stopped in the opening. Stiles felt the familiar, piqued sense of irritation and resentment tugging at his insides.

"Why am I here? I hate hospitals."

Stiles wholeheartedly agreed with him, as he concurred to the whole room, "Yeah, why is he here?"

Derek shrugged nonchalantly, indifferent to Stiles' feelings, and explained, "I called him. We need information on Alphas. He knows."

"Yes, I heard about the new arrival in town. Someone want to bring me up to speed?"

Scott was the first one to speak. "Well, he used Stiles to get to me. He said he wanted the True Alpha's power. But that can't be transferred unless someone I bite then kills me… Right?"

"In theory, yes," Peter confirmed.

"Then he shouldn't be able to get my power."

"If he was a True Alpha before, then I guess, just maybe, he might become one again. He certainly had the capabilities at one point."

"But even if he hadn't lost that power, and he still has the potential to be a True Alpha, wouldn't he automatically lose all of that, if he kills Scott?" Kira wondered aloud, her big eyes traveling around the room.

"Probably. Look, as I've told you all before, this is not an exact science. It's not a science at all."

"Try," Derek interjected, coolly.

Peter sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face. "Fine. He lost his power. Presumably, by killing someone, given his obvious penchant for violence as the first resort. However, if he kills Scott, maybe -maybe-it just might be a way to restore that power."

Scott crossed his arms defiantly as he glared at Peter. "If that was possible, wouldn't you be trying to kill me, right now?"

"No, because I was never a True Alpha. Never have, never will be." Peter matched Scott's pose; indignation clear on his face. "Besides, I would never steep to such petty attempts. If I were trying to kill you, I wouldn't go after your Betas. Let alone little, human Stiles."

"Little, human Stiles can hear you, you know," Stiles spoke up. He didn't know why he should feel offended by anything Peter said or did anymore, but he didn't care for the implication. Certainly not from that guy.

"Yes, well, you are being uncharacteristically quiet. When I hadn't heard your voice yapping for five minutes, I forgot you were here."

"Alright, can someone call security?"

"Charming," Peter commented. He turned his attention back to Scott. "What did you say his name was again?"

Scott looked almost taken aback at the sudden shift, his brow frowning. His voice was hesitant and confused, as he tentatively asked, "… Stiles?"

Peter rolled his eyes, exasperated. "How you became a True Alpha is truly mindboggling and way beyond my comprehensive understanding. No, the power-hungry Alpha. His name."

"Peter?" Stiles suggested under a muttered breath. Human ears missed the remark but given the presence of three werewolves in the room, it didn't go entirely unnoticed. Peter shot him an incredibly annoyed look, and briefly, Stiles appreciated that not even werewolves looks could kill.

Scott ignored the little exchange as he answered, "Alexander. Have you heard about him?"

Peter seemed to contemplate the name for a long moment. "Sadly, no. Means nothing to me."

"Great. Thanks for coming," Stiles piped up.

"Yes, it's always a pleasure helping you hormonal delinquents. And while I'm not above hitting an invalid," Peter said, briefly directing his gaze down at Stiles, before tilting his head back up again. "I think I will remove myself from the situation before the temptation becomes too great."

The room cleared out pretty quickly.

Derek had followed Peter out, claiming he would still help, despite his amount of sarcasm and insults. Stiles wished him the best of luck. Lydia and Kira left shortly after, both of them during double schoolwork for both Stiles and Scott while Alexander's eluding freedom remained problematic.

"You okay?" Scott asked slowly, as they were alone again.

Stiles cursed his inattentiveness. His best friend must have easily spotted his scrunched-up features and the subsequent winces that followed whenever he tried to get more comfortable. He thought he had hidden it better.

"Yeah, fine."

"Dude, you don't have to pretend in front of me, you know that, right?" Scott insisted. "You can talk to me about anything."

Not everything, Scott.

Stiles looked away, downcast and thoughtful. His fingers nervously tapped on the blanket covering his legs, fearing what was to come. What the next thing out of Scott's mouth would be. Something that had been haunting his nightmares for the past few weeks. Something lurking underneath the surface of their friendship. Something that came out that night in the library.

"Stiles, at the school… Do you remember what you said?"

And there it was. The one thing he definitely, decidedly, didn't want to talk about.

"As I recall, you did most of the talking," he said, in an attempt to change the subject. Scott didn't give an inch. He just shot him an incredulous, demanding look and Stiles knew he had lost. "Fine. Yeah… Unfortunately, I do remember."

"Did you mean it?"

Silence stretched out between the two of them. Stiles did remember what he had said, although the memories were blurred and hazy. He remembered the all-consuming pain that engulfed his body, the feeling of his mind slowly drifting away as the darkness edged closer, obstructing his vision. Most of all, he remembered the sense of urgency spurning him on; the incessant need to apologize for what he had done, for offering peace before he departed from this world.

Had he meant it?

Some piece of him certainly had. The piece that was usually screamed the loudest in the darkest part of the night, when the nightmares became too much. The guilt-ridden, nonsensical piece of his soul that would remain forever tainted by the Nogitsune and its actions.

Stiles hesitated, fidgeting nervously as he contemplated whether to share the despairing thoughts that had been consuming him since Allison and Aiden had died.

He opened his mouth, unsure of the words his tongue would form, when he was blissfully interrupted. The hospital room was enveloped in darkness, the lights abruptly snuffed out. The open door, leading into the hallway beyond was also swallowed by the blackness, letting the two of them know the entire hospital had just gone dark.

Stiles met Scott's eyes, the sudden rush of anxiety and trepidation he was feeling mirrored in his best friend's gaze. This wasn't a normal blackout. Both of them realized it at the same time, yet Scott was the one to voice it.

"He's here."

TBC