23;

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23; Generations

"I'm not letting you go anywhere near her." Scott growled out defensively, glaring at the grinning werewolf.

El raised an eyebrow at him. Why so protective all of a sudden? Forty-five minutes ago he was stumbling away from her and refusing to make eye contact.

Peter chuckled, "You don't really have much of a choice. If El here doesn't release some of that pent up energy she'll start to deteriorate."

Peter's pale blue eyes narrowed in on her bare arms, seeming to prove his point. She frowned and looked down at her skin, there were patches of light and dark bruises from an array of yellow to purple.

"Jokes on you," she shot back "I was in a bomb explosion less than a week ago and then attacked by an evil fox spirit inhabiting a weird teenage boy named Oliver. I'm bound to have a few bumps and bruises."

He narrowed his eyes on her in a condescending manner. "Which returns us to what I've been trying to tell you all along. You aren't like any other human girl who was in a few accidents. You're supernatural gypsy and your kind does not heal at the rate of a normal person. Do you ever remember being sick as a child? Coming down with a cold or getting the chicken pox?"

She fell silent proving his point. He pointed a finger at her colored arms, "those bruises should have gone away within a day."

No one wanted to believe him. He was Peter Hale no one even liked him, but the proof was standing right there in front of them. They couldn't deny what they were seeing with their own eyes.

"Judging by her now you're already on your way of checking out."

El puckered her lips angrily, "Of what?"

Peter shook his head. Kids these days are so slow, he thought in annoyance.
"Life."

She gulped, oh. Scott turned to Deaton hoping it wasn't true, but all the doctor could give him was a reluctant bow of his head.

"Why do you want to help me anyways? From what I've heard about you- actually there isn't anything good I've heard about you. So what is it you want in return?"

He smirked, a grin so devilish it was created only to be used by someone as diabolical as him. "All I ask is for a small favor,"

Peter stepped forward and Scott blocked the small space separating him from El.

"You let me use some of that power."

There was a long pause. No one could possibly understand why on earth El would ever agree to such a thing. People like Peter didn't get super abilities and go out and use them for good. People like Peter tormented and destroyed everything in their path.

Peter's offer lingered in air like a bitter air freshener that everyone was forced to breathe in.

"You're insane if you think-"

"Scott," Deaton interrupted the alpha "she doesn't have a lot of choices here. There is one thing Peter is right about. If El doesn't unleash some of that power it will keep building up inside and her health will quickly start to decline."

He fell silent. Then without so much as another word he walked right out of the room and out the front door. Everyone watched him in confusion particularly Lydia.

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