Derek wasn't there.

At first, Stiles hadn't noticed. He had been in his cabin so he couldn't tell for how long Derek had been gone but he was not here now.

"Derek?" Stiles called out for him nevertheless but he didn't expect an answer. He didn't get one. "Great, just fucking great."

Fisting his hair, Stiles tried to think of something he could do. Derek hadn't left the lake in ages. He didn't care about what was going on outside his territory. And now he wasn't here.

It wasn't hard to guess where he was, though. The only thing that had bothered them lately had been that werewolf poking around.

Stiles found Peter entertaining if he was honest but to Derek, he was an intruder. A Hale no less. Stiles wasn't fond of the Hales either but he wouldn't just go out and kill one of them. Because that was exactly what Derek was most likely doing right now. He was out there, killing Peter Hale. And there was not a damn thing Stiles could do about that.

Wherever they were, they were too far away for Stiles to get there in time. By now it was too late most likely anyway.

Stiles wasn't sure how he felt about Peter being dead. He was a Hale but Stiles liked him. Kind of. And he had repaired his door. But Stiles got why Derek wanted him gone.

On the other hand, a dead Hale meant that the whole pack would have it out for them. Stiles guessed that they could retreat to the bottom of the lake for a decade or two but he liked his cabin and he liked his relationship with John. No way was he giving that up just because some werewolves didn't know on which side of the damn town they belonged.

Hands still in his hair Stiles paced up and down. Should he call John? There was a murder going on after all. Not that John would get to them sooner than Stiles would. Especially since he didn't know where they were. Most likely the Hale house, it was the middle of the night after all, but they could be anywhere in Beacon Hills.

Before he could make up his mind Derek was back.

"Where have you been?" Stiles yelled at him.

"What do you think?" Derek glared at him but he looked tired and just done.

"Did you kill him?" Stiles dared to ask and not just because he might have liked this particular werewolf or because of the trouble with the pack his death might cause them at the moment, he was focused on Derek.

Derek didn't like killing people. It had come as a surprise, his whole existence centered around drowning people who dared to come into his lake but that didn't mean that he liked it. It had taken Stiles almost a century to figure that out.

Thankfully they now had an alley in John who actually had the power to keep people away from the lake.

The last series of drownings had been devastating for Derek, four dumb teenagers who had thought that camping at the lake was a good idea. At least after that people had been wary of the lake again but things like that tend to fade over the years and people had started to come out here again. But thanks to John there hadn't been a drowning in years.

Except for today. Today Derek had gone out there to kill somebody.

Stiles caught him in a tight hug. Derek didn't reciprocate but he didn't pull away either. After a long second, he let his forehead rest on Stiles' shoulder.

"I didn't kill him," Derek finally said. "Just spooked him a little bit."

"That's good." Stiles rubbed a calming hand up and down his back. Like always, Derek's clothes were wet so his hand didn't run that smoothly over the fabric but he got his point across.

"He won't bother us again," Derek said but for some reason, Stiles doubted that. He didn't think that Peter was the kind of man who backed down when threatened but he didn't tell Derek that.

Derek retreated to the depth of the lake for the next few days but that didn't bother Stiles. Derek had spent years almost dormant down there.

Peter didn't come back either so maybe he had learned his lesson.

However, on Friday Stiles packed the books he had already finished and drove over to the library. It happened to be just after four in the afternoon but that was totally coincidence. He wasn't sure if he wanted to talk to the werewolf but he did want to make sure that Derek hadn't done any permanent damage to him. Like death.

Not that Stiles thought that Derek had killed Peter, he believed him when he said that he hadn't, but Stiles still wanted to see for himself that the werewolf was okay. He was the first interesting person he'd met in years, so sue him.

Stiles dropped off his books and had a little chat with Denise who happened to be behind the counter today while he not so subtly tried to have a look around to see if Peter was here. Not that Stiles was able to see most of the library from where he was standing. Mainly he saw the kid section on the right and the computer and copying machines on the left, for everything else he had to go deeper into the building but Denise wasn't quite ready to let him go.

"Ran out of books?" She guessed. "You're usually don't come in on Friday."

"What can I say?" Stiles pointed at the books she had put on a trolley behind the counter to get sorted in later. "These are good, I need more."

"You're almost through everything we have in that regard," Denise told him. "If you're missing a particular book, I can get it from another library, you know that. Just give me a word."

"You bet." Stiles gave her a finger gun and then went to have a look at the shelf with Scandinavian murder mysteries. She was right, most of what was on the shelf he had read already but he did find two he hadn't. And he made a mental note to check what else this author had out.

While he was busy with picking out his books, he kept an eye out for Peter but so far no such luck. Not ready to leave just yet, Stiles started to browse the shelves, one never knew what might catch his eye.

"Didn't expect you to show up," Peter suddenly said right behind him. Promptly Stiles dropped the book he had been inspecting. Of course, it landed on his foot. Biting back a curse, Stiles hopped around but he managed to not take down a whole shelf with his flailing. He counted that as a success.

"What's with you and dropping books on your foot?" Peter asked and bent down to retrieve the book. Instead of putting it back, he had a closer look. "I recommend this one, it's quite good."

"You read history novels?" Stiles took the book back but at the moment he couldn't care less about some stupid book about medieval times.

"I have a wide variety of interests," Peter answered solemnly. "We have that in common, don't you think?"

"How would I know? You've been snooping around in my stuff but I know next to nothing about you," Stiles hissed, this was a library after all. Not that his hissing was very quiet but at the moment they were alone in this part.

"Did you send Derek after me?" Peter changed the topic, his eyes now fixed on Stiles.

"Don't blame me for that." Stiles pointed his finger at him. "That's on you. You came into his territory. You're lucky he didn't kill you."

"Does he visit people in their bathroom often?" Peter asked in a chatty tone but his eyes stayed cold. There might even be a hint of blue in them.

"Are you worried about your dignity?" Stiles stabbed back but it wasn't packing any heat. He couldn't deny that he was glad that the werewolf was alive and feeling well enough to banter with him. "Do you even have dignity?"

"I have many qualities," Peter assured him with a smile that sent shivers down Stiles' spine.

"He is a Vodyanoy, isn't he?" Peter asked.

"Why?" Stiles didn't like where this conversation was going. "Are you looking for a way to get rid of him?"

"I just want to know what I'm dealing with," Peter repeated his answer from the other day. "I like to know what's going on in Beacon Hills."

"Do you now," Stiles muttered. "But no, he's not a Vodyanoy." He wasn't that far off, though, and Stiles wasn't sure if he liked that.

If anything Stiles had time and he liked to talk so naturally, he was talking to Derek quite a lot. His nature had come up pretty early and after a while, Derek had been willing to answer his questions. Stiles guessed, that Peter had his information from books, Stiles had gotten his first hand. But it had been a good guess.

"I mean no harm." Peter raised his hands to show how harmless he was but Stiles just shook his head at him.

"You're the most dangerous person of your pack," Stiles reminded him. "You're the left hand, am I right?"

Peter just raised an eyebrow at him.

"Dude, you tried to dump a dead body in my cabin." This time Stiles made sure that his hissing was actually low enough to not be heard at the other end of the library. "You're the one who gets his hands dirty to protect your pack."

"You know a lot about packs," Peter said without confirming anything. "And I still don't know anything about you." He paused of a second. "Except that you claim that my pack killed you."

"You don't know," Stiles realized. He kind of had thought that his story was some kind of joke they were still telling among the pack. Maybe not among the whole pack but he had thought that at least the alpha and the left hand knew.

"Stiles." Peter stepped closer, his voice soft for a change. "If my pack did something to you, I need to know."

"Why?" Stiles asked but didn't step back to bring more distance between them. Peter was close now, it felt almost intimate.

"Because we pay our debts."

Stiles couldn't help it, he laughed.

Then he made the mistake to look at Peter's mildly puzzled expression and dissolved in a new fit of laughter.

Peter waited for him to put himself together, which took a while because the whole situation was just so surreal. Something that totally went over Peter's head which only made it funnier.

In the end, Stiles had to hold his sides and tears were running down his face but he had composed himself enough to speak.

"Thanks, man, I needed that." He wiped the tears of laughter off his face with the heel of his hand.

"I'm glad I'm able to entertain you," Peter said dryly.

"You have no idea."

"You could just tell me," Peter suggested.

That did sober him up completely. John was the only one Stiles had ever told his story to and that hadn't been easy. Telling Peter would be even harder.

However, Stiles had the feeling that Peter wouldn't just back off if he didn't spill his beans. And if he was honest, he kind of wanted to tell Peter. Stiles wanted to see his face when he told him what his pack had done to him.

"Okay," Stiles decided after a long moment. "But I need coffee for that."

Stiles stuffed the three books he'd chosen into his bag and marched back to the counter. The werewolf followed him.

"I knew you two would get along well," Denise greeted them with a delighted smile. "I bet you have quite some books to talk about."

"We do have common interests," Peter answered for them for which Stiles threw him a dirty look.

"Yeah, we're going to start a book club," Stiles said with as much sarcasm as he could muster. Which was a lot but it didn't seem to register to Denise. "We're going to hash out the details over a coffee, don't sick my uncle on me, Peter is not a creeper who's out to molest me."

Denise waved him off with a small laugh and Stiles hurried to get his books.

"I was lying about the creeper thing," Stiles said under his breath once he was on his way out of the building.

"I'm not going to molest you." Peter fell in step next to him.

"But you're not denying the creeper part."

"You are aware of the fact that Derek is the real creeper around here, right?" Peter held the door open for him. "He sneaked in and almost drowned me in my own bathroom. That was not a pleasant feeling."

"Try drowning for real." Stiles shuddered at that memory. Damn, he needed a coffee.