Chapter 15:
Peter growled frustrated as he wandered through his old family home. He had stopped by to make sure it was secure and protected from an upcoming storm. He'd spent the last few months repairing as much of the roof and foundation as he could and he didn't want his work to go to waste if water got inside. He'd only found one problem spot inside, the old master bedroom had a large hole in the ceiling he hadn't gotten to fixing yet. So he hung an obscenely amount of 3m plastic over the hole and then nailed a tarp up behind it just in case.
When it was covered and the rest of the house checked he headed for the front door ready to head back to his apartment, only when he tried to open the door. It wouldn't budge. He growled out annoyed and tried again. When it wouldn't open he glared at it and walked over to the large window in the living room. It was one he had repaired recently so it shouldn't stick, only it did. He pushed and banged against it but the damn thing wouldn't open. With an uneasy feeling in his stomach he rushed to the back door. He hadn't bothered to it yet, and it normally unhung crookedly on its hinges. When he rounded the corner and the door was perfectly straight and shut, he knew something supernatural was going on.
He pulled out his phone, trying to call Derek or maybe Scott for help. But it was black and no matter how it stabbed at the power button it wouldn't turn on. In a fit of frustration he threw it against the kitchen wall. He carefully moved back through the house towards the front door, straining his ears for any sign that someone else was in the house with him. But there was nothing.
He tried the door knob again, giving into the urge to shake and pulled with all his strength. But it wouldn't give. He tried to take deep calming breaths but the feeling of being trapped was one he feared on the deepest level. Add in being trapped in this house, and his heart tried to pound it's way out of his chest.
Fear, anger, and panic built until he found himself pounding at the front door. His fist bloody and slow to heal from the effort he had used. He pounded, kicked, and screamed until he was too exhausted to continue.
He sunk to the floor, his back against the door and closed his eyes. It took forever to get his bury his rage and get his breathing back under his control. He was Peter Hale, he had survived the fire that took most of his family and he had beaten death, he wasn't going to let whatever this was bet him.
There was a strange smell of ozone in the air suddenly and Peter opened his eyes trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. The smell faded as he got to his feet, replaced with one of red meat. The wolf in him moan as the smell, they were hungry.
He followed the smell into the kitchen where food had somehow, probably magically appeared on the kitchen table. The very same kitchen table that had burned to ash years ago. The rare steak, steaming broccoli, and mashed potatoes, sat on top of a family plate. White glass with a red Hale crest at its center, something else that had burned.
In a move anchored by pure fury, he picked up the plate and threw it across the room. He looked at the pile of wasted food and broken glass, and growled. It hadn't been table, or the plate that had caused his rage, it had seeing Tailia's favorite meal. He had done everything he could since waking from his coma to avoid thinking about his sister. It hurt to much and whoever was fucking with him was trying to use her and their family home to get to him. It pissed him off.
He was about to walk out of the room and try another exit point, when the smell of bloody rare meat washed over his nose. He turned and sure enough the same plate and meal was back on the table. He growled and debated shattered in fucking thing again but his stomach growl and his wolf whined.
Tired, frustrated, and maybe a bit curious he sat down. He picked up a fork and poked at a piece of broccoli. He hated the stupid green vegetable. Though it had always been his sister's favorite. She cooked it often enough, probably too often, that he had gotten over his distaste for it. THat was until the fire and coma. When he had woken up he found he couldn't stand the sight or smell of it. Everytime he caught the smell of it cooking, his mind filled with memories of happy family/pack dinners and Talia teasing him. He hadn't been able to stomach eating it since.
Tentatively stabbed the piece and took a bite. It was warm and covered in melted butter, just how his sister liked, he moaned at the taste. Instead of the same sad heart wrenching feeling he was expecting, he felt relieved, like he could breathe again. He smiled and took another bite.
Over the last few years he had done everything he could to avoid remember his past. He avoiding anything that reminds him of his sister, brother, nieces and nephews that had been lost. 10 members of pack gone in a single night. 6 of them his own blood. It had been too painful to think about. So he avoided it. Avoided the house. Avoided Laura's favorite park. Avoided the Talia's favorite restaurants. He avoided everything.
Except for Derek.
His headstrong stubborn nephew was all he had left, so he clung to him. Even if Peter knew he didn't deserve him. Not after what he had done to Laura. He knew he hadn't been in his right mind when he had attacked and killed her but it had still been him, and he would never forgive himself for it. Somehow Derek let him stick around, maybe they were both desperate for a family member to connect with. Or maybe it was the need for a pack. He wasn't sure but he knew he wouldn't survive losing Derek.
When he found out about Cora he had hope for his family. If three had survived, they could rebuild, not just their pack but their connections to each other. He'd tried to ignore that her scent had changed, no longer smelling like pack, barely smelling like kin. Tried to ignore the cold way she talked to him and Derek. And tried to ignore the hatred that burned in her eyes. Whatever had happened to her after the fire, and changed the young child he had known into a bitter, mean, young woman.
Him and Derek and hopped that just being around her, spending time with her would help. But refused. When she had pushed him away and soon after Derek, Peter gave up hope. Derek though, stubborn bighearted Derek, had chased after her. Begging her not to leave him, not again. Cora just kept pushing him away, even after he'd given everything he had to save her life. Still he had followed his sister when she wanted to leave Beacon Hills. Peter tried to warn him it wouldn't end well. But Derek, had still held hope. Right up until she pointblank told him to leave her alone. He had called Peter devastated. Peter tried to soothe him over the phone, but felt useless at it.
Derek had returned home shortly after but only for a short while. He had left, telling Peter he needed to find something. Maybe it was answers about the changes in his wolf, like Derek insisted. But Peter figured it had more to Derek's desire for a pack. A desire he was avoiding, partly because of what had happened to the small pack he had managed to build and partly because despite everything they were both pulled to Scott.
Which was beyond complicated. By his and Derek's own actions they had pushed Scott's pack away. Not that that mattered to either of their wolves. Oh, Peter had no doubt Scott would welcome Derek. No matter what his nephew believed. The young Alpha looked up to and trusted Derek. Their friendship was strained but it was still there. But Derek kept pushing the young Alpha away.
Peter wasn't sure if it was because Scott age, inexperience, or if Derek still clung to the idea of being his own Alpha again. But he worried about the isolation and the effect it was having on his nephew. Derek had never been a loner, not with their pack, nor his human friends growing up. Truth was neither was Peter, but where he knew Scott cared for Derek, he also knew the young Alpha despised him.
He sighed. Pushing thoughts of the young Alpha away before he could get anymore lost in them, he ate the food before him. Whoever was messing with him, cleary didn't want him to starve, so he finished off his dinner and laid down on the couch to nap.