I N S T I N C T | Jackson Whittemore

52: human love

Human Love
Chapter 52

Peter Hale was alive.

I know, shocking, considering Derek ripped out his uncle's throat and buried him beneath the floorboards of his house. But with Lydia Martin's help with an ancient ritual, and Derek's unwilling effort...

Peter was brought back to life with a little wolfsbane and a full moon.

And now he stood in front of Derek, a smirk on his face as his nephew looked as if he wanted to kill him.

Peter sighed, "Well I expected a little warmer welcome," he smirked, leaning against the endpost of Derek's stairs. "It's quite a situation you've got yourself in here, Derek. I mean... I'm out of commission for a few weeks and suddenly there's lizard people, geriatric psychopaths, and you're cooking up werewolves out of every self-esteem-deprived adolescent in town," Peter laughed, referencing to Erica, Boyd, and Isaac.

In which, Erica and Boyd had left for another pack only minutes ago.

Derek crossed his arms over his chest, not in any way lessening the scowl that formed his face, "What do you want?"

"Well, I want to help," Peter sighed, taking a step towards Derek. "You're my nephew. The only relative that I have left. You know, there's still a lot that I can teach you," Peter offered, hoping to get in good with the new Alpha. "Can we just talk?" he asked, waving his hands in surrender.

This actually brought a smile to Derek's face, and he uncrossed his arms, "Yeah..." he nodded, eyes glowing red. "Let's talk..."

After throwing his fist into his uncle's nose, Derek picked Peter up by the collar and literally spun him in a circle before launching him at the old, wooden stairs of the burnt Hale House. Knocking into the wood and successfully breaking the guardrail on the side, Peter fell to the ground in a heaving heap, panting for the air his lungs were now deprived of.

Raising his hand to deflect the chair Derek shattered only inches above his head, Peter panted out, "You don't actu... actually think that I want to be the Alpha again, do you?" he laughed, spitting some blood that coursed in his mouth from dislodged teeth. "That wasn't my finest performance, considering it ended in my death. I mean, I'm usually more..."

Peter trailed off, seeing Derek stalking towards him. Tired of his nephew's antics, he straightened up, shaking his head, "Okay, go ahead! Come on, do it. Hit me, hit me!" Peter mocked until Derek let go of his collar, letting him slump against the wall as he panted.

Peter exhaled, "I can see that it's cathartic for you. You're letting go of all the anger, self-loathing, and hatred that comes with total and complete failure. I may be the one taking the beating, Derek, but you've already been beaten," Peter spit. "So, go ahead. Hit me if it will make you feel better. After all, I did say that I wanted to help..." he growled, wiping his bloody nose.

Derek swallowed, taking a few steps away from the man he once knew to be his best friend. He shook his head, "You can't help me."

Silence passed over the old relatives. They both looked at each other as Peter's once dripping bloody nose was now a solid stream pouring onto Derek's dusty, hardwood floor. Peter sighed, "See? Prime example right here," Peter pressed his sleeve against his nose. "I'm not healing as fast. Coming back from the dead isn't easy, you know," he joked sarcastically. "I'm not as strong as I used to be. I need a pack. An Alpha like you. I need you as much as you need me," he reasoned with obvious dumb reasons, that Derek might just believe them with the right motivation.

Scoffing, Derek shook his head, "Why would I want help from a total psycho?"

"First of all," Peter sighed, wiping the perspiration dripping off his forehead, "I'm not a total psycho," he reasoned. "And by the way, you're the one that slashed my throat wide open," he differed, pointing a finger at Derek. He followed by shrugging, "But we're all works in progress, right? So, we need each other. Sometimes when you need help, you turn to people you'd never expect," he smiled.