Duty of a Left-Hand

Chapter I: Worm Moon Ritual and Fountain of Youth.

Peter wakes in a hole in the ground of a house. Next to him is a man of approximately his age, eyes burning Alpha red, who smells exactly like his 15-year-old nephew. They seem to be in a house that smells like burnt wood and ashes and looks oddly like his childhood home. A young girl with fiery hair and terrified eyes cowers in the corner of the room while looking at him like he is going to gut her. There's also a mirror reflecting the light of the moon on him above him.

'Ah the worm moon ritual, that means I must have died then...'

Peter gets out of the obvious makeshift grave, then crouches down to the young man's level.

"Can you stand? I realize that the ritual takes its toll on energy, but since you went through the trouble of resurrecting me, I would like to know who you are, and why you smell like my nephew?"

The young man scrunches his eyebrow in a familiar way. Definitely a Hale then. But Peter doesn't remember having a family member his own age. Peter was the only one of his generations. All cousins of his were Talia's age, and when the kids came along, Peter had a difference of approximately 10 years between each generation. But this guy has the same eyes color as Derek, the same bushy eyebrows and scowling mouth, and the same scent of wilderness and sunshine. The only way to be sure is if he sees his nephew's trademark bunny teeth? But for that, the Alpha needs to speak at some point.

"I'm not very well known for my patience so start answering."

Derek is hallucinating. There is no other explanation to see his dead uncle alive and looking exactly like he had before the fire or even a bit younger? When he'd seen Peter again in the hospital, after six years, it had shocked Derek.

He wasn't the uncle Derek remembered. Six years should not age someone that much, only trauma and stress can, which they obviously had both in spades. But then again Derek had been fifteen, and his perception was perhaps skewed. But now, sitting right in front of him, is the Peter from his memory.

"This isn't possible..."

'Oh, bunny teeth... Derek then... How long was I dead?'

"That's not an answer, pup."

"Uncle... Peter?"

"Uncle... Peter?"

Peter sighs and helps his overgrown nephew stand, then looks at the young girl in the corner.

"Can you help us? We need transportation to the Alpha's residence, and I need a shower. Since you're here, you must be pack, can you call the others?"

The girl doesn't seem to understand what he is saying. 'Great...'

"I need to get back to Isaac, Boyd, and Erica; they're not yet in full control."

"Your children's name, or newly bitten wolves?"

The alpha scrunches his eyebrow with distaste or is it confusion? And says, "Bitten."

"You didn't leave them with supervision before doing the ritual?"

The Alpha collapses in Peter's arm before he can answer. Peter looks down at the unconscious alpha then at the young girl. "Great, I don't suppose you know where we are going?"

The girl looks slightly hysterical before putting on a mask of neutrality and false confidence. "I have no clue where I am. This is the first time my mind has been clear in I don't know how long. So, who are you exactly?"

'So completely unhelpful... At least the girl found her voice'

"Peter Hale, I was dead now I'm not; thanks to the two of you. As for your mind, I'll need more information, myself, to deduce anything at all. But as you can see, I have an unconscious Alpha in my arms, and very few answers to give you. Now, why don't we go somewhere I can find a shower, and clothes, and put this one in a bed."