At the edge of town they slowed to a walk.
"How is he?" Derek questioned voice thin.
"He's…dealing. How are you?" Derek snorted quickly and shoved his hands into his pockets. Peter watched him for a moment before looking away again.
"I'd be better if I knew we weren't walking into an ambush right now."
"Yes well we might be."
"Very helpful," Derek snapped.
"I can't just let them declare open war Derek. I have to at least try to negotiate."
"You can't trust hunters," Derek said, shaking his head. They walked in silence for a few moments, ignoring the pointed stare of an old woman across the street. "They already tried to kill Jackson and I." Peter glanced to him shortly again.
"I know," he murmured. Derek pulled him to a stop, one hand on his shoulder.
"So what if we walk into this and they kill both of us? What then?" Peter shrugged him off, nearly snarling.
"And what would you have me do? Our family is already infamous. Any schmuck with Google can figure out that we're not exactly normal. They know what we are. We don't have the option of surprising them." Derek fell back half a step in his uncle's fury, eyes widening. Peter followed yanking him closer by his jacket. "I don't like this any more than you do. And I have a lot more to lose. You keep that in mind." He dropped Derek and tore a hand through his hair, skin wavering briefly as he pushed the change back.
"We don't know how many there are," Derek muttered, desperation edging into his voice, "and we're walking in alone."
"You'd rather risk our mates?" That stopped Derek short and he frowned. "Stop challenging me," Peter added. "We don't need any friction in the pack right now. Just let it happen."
"Let it happen. We might die tomorrow but let it happen."
"We might die today. At least get it right."

Peter turned and started walking again, hands curling into fists at his sides.
"There has to be someone. There has to be something," Derek called after him. Peter didn't respond and after another moment Derek worked to catch up with him. "We can't be completely alone in this. Surely."
"Scott doesn't want involvement and he's a child anyways. I already tried the Argents."
"The Argents?" Derek repeated.
"Yes I already told you. Don't start with me Derek."
"No, the Argents! That's a good idea. They have to help us."
"They don't. They won't."
"Well we have to try again." Peter stopped again, turning towards him, frowning.
"We can't trust hunters," he echoed.
"It's better than going in alone!"
"Until they turn on us and slit our throats you mean."
"Chris seems-"
"Chris seems what? The same way Kate seemed?" Derek went perfectly still, heart rate spiking.
"What?" he managed, tongue dragging across lips that were suddenly parched. Peter rolled his eyes so quickly the movement was hardly visible.
"I smelled her on you Derek." Derek dragged in a breath as his heart continued to race.
"I…Uncle I…"
"I never blamed you." Derek's eyes widened.
"Then why?"
"Why what?" Peter questioned quickly.
"Why Laura? Why not me? If anyone should have died…it should have been me."
"If you had been the alpha it would have been."
"Uncle-"
"You were young. You made a mistake. We'll deal with it later."

Derek nodded jerkily as Peter set off again. He followed after him, taking deep breaths. Peter stopped again just outside a bar. "You need to calm down," he said softly. "I can't have you snapping in there."
"I'll be fine," Derek insisted. "I'll be fine." Peter clearly didn't believe him but he turned and yanked open the door anyways. The bar appeared empty. It wasn't. Peter heard seven heartbeats, not counting his and Derek's.
"Don't waste my time," he called out, stopping just inside the door. Derek stopped beside him and it comforted Peter for a short moment. Two men emerged from the back hallway. Another three filtered out from behind the bar to their right, the door swinging shut behind them. Derek tensed but Peter didn't let himself look. "No one else joining us?"
"The staff prefers to remain uninvolved," one of the hunters, a stocky man with graying hair, answered.
"Why? We're only having a civil conversation."
"Don't treat me like I'm dumb Hale. Your boy has a problem with two of mine."
"Two of yours tried to kill him without provocation," Peter returned calmly. He forced himself to keep breathing and keep his body still. He had to keep his cool.
"You can suck my provocation," another called, mouth sneering beneath his baseball cap. Derek growled in response, Peter didn't move at all.
"Shut up Bill," the first hunter growled. "It's not him we have a problem with. It's you." Peter's lips twisted barely.
"Me?" he questioned, one hand pointing to himself. The hunter nodded.
"You."
"May I ask why?"
"Kate Argent." Peter frowned, hand dropping. He took half a step forward.
"She slaughtered my entire family."
"Did she now?" Again Peter forced himself to remain still.
"Yes."
"You sure about that?"

Peter had no idea how to respond. He measured the heart rates in the room. Normal. Except his and Derek's. "It seems an awful lot of work for one person." He said it casually, as if it was nothing. "Especially with an entire pack of werewolves sleeping inside. She'd have to move very quickly…very quietly."
"Are you trying to insinuate something?" Peter demanded.
"We would have let you live," he added simply, "but then you killed Kate."
"Did you help her?" His vision was edged red. This wasn't going right. Not going right at all.
"We won't make any mistakes this time." He was in motion. The hunter was warm and solid between him and the floor and his teeth were at his neck. Peter's jaw snapped open just in time for him to be hauled off by two, maybe three, of the other men. Instead of shoving him back or releasing him, they pulled a gun and aimed for his face.

…

Derek released a snarl just as the gun went off. His hands were barely human as he grabbed the back of Peter's jacket and yanked him out of the bar. He didn't look around to see if anyone was watching and he didn't stop to think, he hauled Peter over one shoulder, holding onto his arm, and ran. He made it to Stiles' house, the closest to the center of town. Derek was so relieved that the front door's lock was still broken he nearly collapsed in the living room. The sheriff must have thought no one would be stupid enough to break into his house again. He was mostly right about that. He dragged Peter up to Stiles' room, kicking the door closed and only taking a moment to rest. He pushed Peter into the bed and turned his head carefully, stomach clenching at the sight of the bullet hole that had killed him. Derek didn't have time to sit here. It had already been too long. His heart flinched oddly as he dug his fingers into the hole, tearing more flesh as he dug the bullet out. It seared his skin and he threw it across the room as soon as he could, cursing under his breath. He couldn't let himself think about it. He couldn't. Not when he was alone. Not when Peter wasn't here to tell him things were going to be okay and keep him from losing it. He paced around the room blindly, kicking piles of clothes and a book as his eyes ran over his surroundings without taking anything in. His phone was in and out of his hands a dozen times. He wanted desperately to call for Stiles or Jackson but if they left school early it would be a sure sign that they were pack. Derek had to hold onto the hope that the hunters didn't know yet. He had to do what Peter would want him to do. He slammed his hand against his head, exhaling quickly through clenched teeth. If Peter would just wake up and tell him it was going to be okay. Derek couldn't call them. He threw his phone, not looking where it landed. He kept pacing.

He didn't know how long it was before Peter woke up. He coughed, one hand running over his face before flopping back to the bed. He didn't try to sit up.
"Water," he croaked finally, "please." Derek ran to the bathroom and returned with a cup half full of lukewarm water. Peter pushed himself up before taking it. He drank slowly, eyes focused on a blank piece of wall. "Stiles and Jackson?"
"Still in school," Derek managed. Peter nodded once.
"Good," he exhaled, "good work Derek." Derek rocked back and forth on his heels.
"You think they were lying?" he questioned, the words bursting out of him. Peter's eyes flicked closed and he sighed before growling slightly.
"No reason for them to be lying." His eyes opened and he looked to Derek after another moment. "Their heart rates were normal," he added.
"What do we do?"
"Guess you've been living with a lot of unnecessary guilt," Peter said, laugh hollow.
"What do we do?" Derek repeated, desperation edging into the words. Peter fell silent again. He dropped his hands to his knees, head sinking down.
"Revenge isn't finished," he let out.

…

Jackson's knee was shaking. He was doing his best to control it, the Porsche shook when he didn't, but he couldn't stop it completely.
"I'm sure everything went fine," Stiles insisted again. "They would have called us if they needed help."
"Yeah you hope," Jackson snapped, Stiles' overly calm attitude making his skin itch.
"We'll call them as soon as we get to my room," Stiles said. He'd already said that too. Jackson rolled his eyes.
"How are you not freaked out right now?"
"I am freaked out," Stiles exhaled, glancing out the window, "but it's my job to hide it and calm you down isn't it?" His glance was back on the glass before Jackson had figured out how to reply. The Porsche shook for a few moments as he forced himself to breathe. They'd call Peter within minutes. Everything would be fine. The mantra in his head ended abruptly when he saw the door slightly ajar pulling in. He jumped from the Porsche, leaving his book bag behind as Stiles shut off the engine. He was up to Stiles' room in seconds, both older werewolves turning at his approach. He didn't have to ask. Their expressions said it all. The negotiations hadn't gone well.
"What the hell happened to your face?" Stiles yelled, shoving past Jackson and stopping in front of Peter to turn his face one way and then another.
"I got shot," Peter responded simply. Stiles' jaw dropped open and he stared at their alpha.
"Why?" Peter didn't answer so Jackson risked a glance to Derek.
"What happened?" he questioned, the words barely more than a whisper.
"Let's talk about it later," Peter suggested. Stiles dropped to sit with Peter on his bed. Peter lifted his wrist and joined their hands. Jackson looked back to Derek against his will. He swallowed, rubbing sandpaper against sandpaper, before tilting his head back. Derek nodded once.

A very small part of Jackson told him to wait for Derek but he ignored it, grabbing his keys off the seat and reversing out of the driveway so quickly the tires protested. He went straight to his room when he got home, one hand tearing through his hair as Derek scaled the side of the house and forced the window open. Jackson didn't fully know what he was doing. All he knew was that Stiles and Peter needed to be alone. He had to be strong. He could do this. Derek was pack now. What was the worst that could happen? He didn't really know what to expect, couldn't even think of one thing that was possibly going to happen, but he was still surprised when Derek fell into him, crying. One hand fell haphazardly on Derek's back but Jackson didn't realize he was holding him. He simply blinked a few times, reminded himself to keep breathing, and let Derek cry on him.

A/N: Lol. The things I don't plan… But some Derek/Jackson is planned next. But I also have no idea what will happen.

Sorry for the lag time guys I really was supposed to get better but Captivation is being so difficult…I kind of decided to skip it? I don't know. Just…sorry.

(I should really edit this tomorrow and then post but…oh well)

Thank you all.

I have to go to sleep now.