Peter stole a car to drive them back. Stiles looked the other way and decided to ask when he'd developed those skills later. He needed to come up with something to tell his father. He'd been gone for hours. Between sneaking glances at Peter he rested his head against the window and tried not to panic. A story for his father was going to be the least of his worries soon. He didn't even want to think about that though. He didn't really want to think at all. He glanced to Peter again.
"How do you stand it?" the words tumbled out as soon as he thought them.
"I thought it was rather clear that I don't. Stand it that is."
"Yeah you do." Peter was quiet several moments.
"I don't. Things happen. We react. We feel. There are never easy answers when bad things happen to us. Just because we're werewolves doesn't mean we are any smarter than humans. Just because I'm the alpha doesn't mean I have the answers Stiles."
"Yeah well I'm still in high school and Jackson's a dumbass so you'd better have some at least."

Peter huffed out a quick breath, lips curling for a second.
"I'm surprised you didn't throw in an insult for Derek." Stiles smiled shortly too.
"I thought it would be pretty obvious that I don't trust his decision making skills either." Peter sobered.
"We've both lost a lot." Stiles' smile fell and he nodded.
"Yeah."
"Maybe insanity runs in the family," Peter offered. Stiles honestly didn't know if he was joking or not.
"You are still not funny," he murmured, just in case. Peter dragged him over by the back of his neck, lips pressing against his temple before he was released. Stiles doubted Peter even took his eyes off the road. He returned to his seat before sighing quietly and crossing his arms.
"I love you," Peter added quietly, seriously. Stiles lips curled into what was almost a smile but fell more into grimace territory.
"I love you too." He tried to be grateful for this moment now. They were still together. They didn't have a plan and for just a little while longer that was okay. He tried to be grateful.

They abandoned the car outside of town and started to jog back, staying close to buildings and trees even in the cover of darkness. Peter scaled the side of the house effortlessly and Stiles followed, freezing just inside the window frame at what was waiting inside his room. He smelled the blood about the time that his eyes searched the room desperately. Derek and Jackson were seated on his bed, Peter had already moved in front of them. Leaning against the closed door was his father, arms crossed. He was still in his uniform, collar tugged loose and he didn't look impressed by Stiles' entrance.
"My son totally vanishes," he began with a glance to his watch, "six and a half hours ago. I come in his room to find a wanted criminal and an underage teen. Naturally I try to figure out what the hell is going on, only to have the wanted criminal come at me with glowing eyes. I defend myself." Derek had the decency to look embarrassed, head titled down. "Then the other one comes at me. But lo and behold the story doesn't end there. My son returns, through his second story window I might add, with," he eyed Peter speculatively for a few seconds, "a man my age." He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. "Who's going to explain with the minimal amount of bullshit?"

"Peter Hale," Peter offered, stepping forward and offering his hand, "I'm the wanted criminal's uncle." Once Stiles managed to snap his jaw shut he glared at Jackson and Derek trying to convey slow death with only his eyes.
"Care to explain why you're in my son's bedroom?" his father demanded, leaving Peter's hand hanging in the air. Stiles winced. This was bad. In fact this was really bad. Apocalyptic? Possibly.
"I'm afraid that's a long story," Peter offered. Again, the sheriff looked unimpressed.
"Dad," Stiles cut in, "we should talk."
"Son. Sit. And so help me god if you're doing drugs…"
"Ew Dad no."
"If you're doing anything illegal," his father corrected and Stiles winced again.
"Well technically-"
"Sit!" A vein started throbbing in his father's forehead and Stiles rushed to his bed, dropping down next to Jackson.

"Your bed smells like sex," Jackson exhaled.
"At least I won't die a virgin," Stiles returned at the same volume, grateful his father couldn't hear them.
"I can't believe you just made a joke," Jackson breathed. Stiles eyed his father warily.
"What else would you have me do?"
"Maybe recognize the fact that you're about to die."
"It'll blow over," he returned, "eventually."
"Look at your dad's face right now." Jackson shot him a significant glance. Stiles swallowed a sigh rather than letting it out. His father did look rather close to committing homicide. Maybe multiple homicides.
"Peter's alpha for a reason," he exhaled finally.
"Will you two shut up?" Derek gritted, interrupting them. Stiles rolled his eyes and Jackson shifted, elbowing Derek if the low growl was anything to go by. It was somewhat interesting that they'd all reverted to children as they waited for the fallout.

"Perhaps we could sit," Peter suggested then. He still sounded cool and collected and Stiles wondered how he was doing it. Hadn't he just almost had a breakdown? Was he about to go off the edge they'd just been discussing? Was his father in danger? He inhaled deeply through his nose, surprised when reassurance flowed over him. They would get through this. For all his bluster Stiles' father wasn't going to kill anyone. Yeah this was unexpected, and a problem, but they'd have to deal with worse soon enough. They would get through this. At least. "There's really no good way to say this," Peter announced. Stiles couldn't help a wince that took over his entire face. There really was no good way to say this. In fact he could only see this entire discussion going horribly, horribly wrong. His hands curled aimlessly. "I was dying," Peter said carefully, "your son saved my life." Stiles' father blinked once, then twice.
"Good start," he allowed, "if you're telling the truth."
"He is," Stiles volunteered.
"Oh yes because you're trustworthy," was the snapped response. Stiles sulked a moment, ignoring Jackson's smirk.
"I will not lie to you," Peter said, the words sober. Stiles' father arched an eyebrow at him in response. "I am sure you are very adept at reading people Sheriff, there is no reason to assume that I will be any different." His father seemed to measure this at least.
"So now that I've caught you sneaking into my teenaged son's bedroom you've decided to be honest with me?"
"In all fairness you caught Derek and Jackson." The sheriff's head cocked to the side at that, mouth pinching tightly.
"Another teenager and a wanted criminal also sneaking around with my son andyou is not exactly the best point to make right now."
"We are a rather ragtag bunch," Peter conceded.
"Which still doesn't explain why you are all here."
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. You wouldn't believe any of us I guarantee it."
"If that's the way you feel then I can take you down to the station and we can have the discussion there."
"You can try," Peter returned tone suddenly hard. His father shoved off the door, planting his feet as he leveled a glare at them. "These three are my responsibility. I will not be separated from them." His father pointed in sharp jabs.
"Those two you can have," he pointed again, "that one is mine." Stiles felt Peter's flash of anger from where he was sitting, shoulders tensing in response.
"He's mine too." There was no disguising the utter possessiveness in the words and Stiles closed his eyes even as his stomach curled in pleasure.

"W-Who I belong to is mostly a sidetrack isn't it? Plus there is plenty of Stiles to go around okay?" Jackson coughed and Stiles suspected the sound had begun as a laugh. Though how Jackson was laughing right now was beyond him. "Actually you know what I belong to me. Yeah it's the twenty first century now so you just take your archaic bullshit and shove it." Dead silence followed this declaration and Stiles fought the urge to blush.
"Please tell me that was not directed at the middle aged man standing in front of me, please," his father let out, eyes closed. He brought both hands up, folding them before covering his nose and mouth. "This isn't happening," he muttered behind them. Stiles forced a shallow laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck.
"I just say stuff Dad you know that come on…" Peter huffed out a sigh.
"Stiles," he exhaled so quietly Stiles' father could not have heard. It wasn't possible. It must have been the sigh then that drew his attention. He opened his eyes slowly, hands falling away.
"Are you…involved with my son?" Stiles might have squeaked.
"Yes." Stiles' jaw fell open and he shot off the bed.
"No!" he yelped, "No he is not! We are just friends! Really, really good friends!" For three seconds no one moved.
"I need a drink," Stiles' father announced. "I really need a drink."

"Oh my god you're so screwed," Jackson let out as the door snapped closed. He was far too amused by the situation. Stiles loosed a growl before smacking the back of his head, hard.
"What the hell happened?" Peter demanded, rounding on them. Stiles sat back and let his mate take care of things. He'd already taken the words right out of his mouth. "Explain to me how you two idiots were caught by a human! As if we don't have enough to deal with- Derek's recent acquiescence, the hunters who slaughtered the Hale family, and now on top of it all the sheriff is right in the middle of everything endangering not only himself but us as well. Explain."
"We knew he was on the second floor," Derek began, eyes trained on the carpet. "But we were more focused on trying to decide what to do, follow your trails or wait, and making sure we ourselves weren't tracked back here. Apparently he was waiting for Stiles to come back and we surprised him."
"That's your excuse," Peter demanded dryly, "really."
"We were…" Derek paused and cracked his knuckles just before his head tilted to the side, almost exposing his neck to Peter, "a little distracted."
"By."
"Things have gotten complicated. Between us." Peter didn't react to the statement. A few moments passed in tense silence.
"And how did he manage to shoot you?"
"I panicked," Derek admitted after another long silence. "He was coming at Jackson, trying to separate us I guess, and I panicked."
"He pushed me out of the way," Jackson supplied, "because he likes me now."
"Don't try to stir up trouble," Peter said firmly, wiping the saccharine smirk from Jackson's face. "You shouldn't have been in the way in the first place."
"I didn't know what to do," Jackson protested, earnest now, "he was just there and even if we turned and ran he'd already seen us."

Peter's teeth clicked as he grimaced at them.
"You should have diffused the situation. Said you were looking for Stiles. Made some bullshit excuses. Instead you had to give this the worst possible outcome."
"Hey no one died," Jackson protested. Peter rolled his eyes before tsking.
"No one's died yet. We still have the hunters don't forget."
"Yeah that's why Derek's glued to my ass," Jackson complained.
"Can I take the bullets out now?" Derek interrupted. Peter's eyes narrowed.
"Bullets?" Derek lifted one shoulder in response. Another click of teeth. Another grimace. "And you?" Peter added, looking to Jackson.
"Just the one."
"What a relief." Stiles flopped back on his bed, covering his eyes with both hands.
"Why did you have to tell him we're together? Why Peter?" he moaned.
"Lying about it now would only have made it worse later and you know it," Peter told him impatiently. "Now will you help Derek?"
"You help Derek," Stiles snapped, "I'll help Jackson."
"Oh no. Jackson and I need to have a chat." Stiles peeked through his fingers to see Jackson's shoulders tighten. Peter crooked a finger and Jackson blew out a sigh before following him into the hallway.
"I can get the one in my thigh," Derek said, tugging off his jacket slowly. "There's another in my right shoulder."
"You're lucky he didn't kill you," Stiles grumbled, sitting up.

When Stiles' father returned, bottle of brandy in hand, Derek was laying on down on the bed, shirtless. The sheriff only sighed.
"Son what are you doing?" Stiles spared him a glance.
"I'm taking the bullet out Dad." There was a heavy sigh.
"Why are you taking the bullet out? Doesn't he need the hospital?"
"No he doesn't need the hospital," Stiles said, hoping to leave it at that.
"Why doesn't he need the hospital?" Stiles could actually hear the wince.
"Because he doesn't. He's a tough little trooper. Aren't you Derek?" There was only a grunt of response as Stiles' fingertips finally grasped the bullet, giving it a tug only to slide off in the slick of blood. "Damn it," he muttered, pushing in again. He jumped when his father tapped his shoulder with a pair of tweezers. "Uh. Thanks." His father took a swig of brandy before dropping into Stiles' computer chair.
"I have an idea," he announced. Stiles clicked the tweezers experimentally before glancing to him.
"Okay," he allowed when it became clear his father wasn't planning on continuing.
"I'm going to finish off this bottle and pass out in bed and tomorrow you can tell me this was all some sort of hallucination."
"As much as I would love that Dad you still have three bullets missing from your gun."
"Four," his father corrected.
"What?" Derek gave an impatient huff beneath him as Stiles looked back to his father yet again. His father gestured to the window, where a bullet was embedded in the sill.
"Four," he repeated.
"Alright four," Stiles agreed darkly before going back to work.

Stiles had loosed the bullet from Derek's tugging flesh, Derek giving a sharp hiss, before his father spoke again.
"And would you," he paused, eyeing the bottle of booze in his hand, "would you need the hospital?" Stiles wondered if his father really knew what he was asking.
"No," he said finally, "I wouldn't."
"What happened?" was the next question. "When did you start lying to me about every aspect of your life? What the hell is going on right under my roof? I thought you were going to open up and tell me what was happening- I thought we were going to be okay but now this? Stiles what the hell is going on?" Stiles tossed the bullet in the trash before setting the tweezers on his dresser and grabbing a shirt to wipe the blood off his hands.
"How drunk are you?" he questioned.

…

Peter didn't speak. He let Jackson squirm a bit instead.
"Things have gotten complicated," he said eventually, not quite making it a question. Jackson sighed and gripped his hair, gritting his teeth as Peter sought out the bullet.
"I don't get why I'm in trouble," he huffed out, "I haven't done anything wrong."
"You're not in trouble," Peter countered, mouth pinching as he grasped the bullet.
"Well you pulled me aside to talk to me," Jackson pointed out, gasping as Peter's claws extended.
"The bullet," Peter explained expression apologetic. He pulled it out before letting it clink into the sink. "I pulled you aside because it's become obvious that Derek is…confused. I want to know how you're feeling about it."
"Derek's pack," Jackson offered first, averting his eyes. Peter nodded, waiting. "I'm sort of starting to…not hate him completely," Jackson admitted on a whisper. "And I don't know-I don't know why that is. Because he…" Jackson paused, inhaling slowly. He closed his eyes, hands curling on the edge of the sink he was still leaning against. "He raped me." He paused again and Peter wasn't sure if it was because he was waiting for a reaction or it had simply been difficult to say. Maybe it was a mix of both. "And then he pulled and twisted. He tortured me. I almost died." Another pause. Another inhale, shakier this time. "I almost died and it's his fault. It's not fair. It's not fair that he's doing this to me Peter. How can I hate him if he's starting to- If he's being- I have to hate him," Jackson declared, expression fierce. "I can't not hate him. But I can't stop it either. And it's so fucked up." He exhaled shakily before closing his eyes and shaking his head. "I don't know what to do. This wasn't supposed to happen."
"I know," Peter agreed, tugging him into a hug.

Jackson clung to him and for the first time Peter regretted forming this pack. If he'd laid down and died like he should have none of this would have happened. Derek would have had his rightful revenge. He would never have touched Jackson. Jackson never would have tried to kill himself. And Stiles. Stiles wouldn't be in the other room trying to explain to his father about werewolves. Stiles' life wouldn't be in danger. Neither would Jackson's. They would both be safe. His pack would have been better off if they had never formed. He could have figured something else out. There were always options. Even when it seemed like your back was up against the wall. He should have done something different. "I'm sorry Jackson." Jackson sighed softly; chin rocking against Peter's shoulder as he shook his head again.
"It's not your fault."
"Yes it is. I was supposed to protect you."
"You did. He can't hurt me anymore." He was trying so hard to be brave. Peter wondered how real it was. "There's only the memories now," Jackson admitted with a flash of honesty. Peter took a step back and met his eyes. There's only the memories now. The statement settled into his chest and sank down, latching onto him. Just like his family. Just like killing Laura. Only memories now. But that didn't make them any less powerful.
"Are you going to be okay? Going forward?"
"You mean with the hunters?" Jackson almost smirked. "I'll be fine. I don't want Derek dead. I don't want to owe him anything."
"You noticed too," Peter murmured.
"I could feel it," Jackson returned just as low. "When we were connected. I could feel his bond to me."
"Something I'm sure he didn't see coming." Jackson looked away, biting the inside of his cheek shortly.
"If he sacrifices himself I'll owe him the rest of my life." He shook his head slowly. "I'd rather be dead." Peter tsked before he could help it.
"Let's not all go jumping off the ship just yet. None of us are going to be playing the hero."
"Not even you?" Jackson challenged. Peter didn't break eye contact as Jackson looked up but he didn't answer. It would only be a lie.

A/N: Guess what? This note also starts with an apology. It's been way way way too long between updates and I'm sorry for that.

Not only was I busy with YDSS this story just kind of…stalled out on me. And I know this chapter was fillerish but important developments are happening! I promise.

Hopefully it won't be so long again.

Thank you so very much.