Spark of Dark by Pirotess666

Part 1

Peter snarled. Damned night to be raining so heavily. He still couldn't believe it. He had managed to escape Eichen House. After nearly a year in that hell hole, he had managed to escape. He took a deep breath. Wet earth and lightning greeted his senses. He loved this scent. The wolf wanted to run free, howl, hunt...kill.

The woods were dark, although the bright moon illuminated them enough to gleam shapes, turning everything eerie. Two nights from now it would be full moon. He couldn't wait to feel its glow on his skin. He looked around himself, trying to decide where best to go. His apartment and his possessions were his top priority. Aided by his werewolf vision, he followed a path that many would consider spooky due to the shape of the trees in it.

Peter snorted. If that boy was here, he'd be talking nonstop, listing creatures that liked nights like this. Stiles...the boy that was so much like him. Who trusted so little. He'd been the only one who had been suspicious of him. Peter had managed to gain a bit of trust from the others, but Stiles...he had never convinced him.

He wanted to have that long pale neck under his teeth, bleeding until Stiles's life was slowly extinguished. But he didn't have that luxury, not right now at least. Maybe in a few years, when no one was expecting it.

He could wait. Patience was something he had in abundance. Now, he needed to go to his apartment, get his money and leave this cursed town. Of course, he could kidnap the teen. Killing him would be such a waste. He HAD liked him a lot. That smart mouth had been a delight and a nuisance at the same time. Stiles' snark was the only that could rival his. He actually missed the younger man's clever mouth. Especially this last year where for a couple of months his only company had been Valack and after that he had been placed in solitary. Just him and his mind. He was probably insane again. Had he stopped being insane?! He shrugged. Who cared?

The wolf stopped abruptly as he saw two figures ahead. He approached them silently, aided by the sound of rain that muffled his steps and his scent. Surprised, he found Stiles and Scott. They were in front of each other, illuminated by the headlights of a car (that wasn't Stiles jeep) and there was a bike parked near it.

'Scott...'

'You killed her, Stiles!'

'She was going to kill Malia!'

'You could have tried to talk to her. Damn it, Stiles. You did the same with Donovan.'

He snarled. 'We've had this talk about Donovan, Scott. You said you were over it! That you understood that it was self-defense. I'm not a fucking alpha, Scott. I don't have super-powers that allow me to dominate my opponent. I just wanted to live.'

'And you kill another person because of that?'

'Would it have been preferable if Donovan had killed me? Or the Desert Wolf? Is that it? Donovan was going to eat me alive and she was going to kill Malia!'

'You're being a drama queen.'

'He was a wendigo! I have the scar on my fucking shoulder to prove it! Shit, Scott! You weren't there. None of you were. You left the helpless human alone, when you knew we had another big bad in Beacon Hills.'

'Why would they come after you?'

The taller teen looked at his best friend. 'Why would they indeed?' He sighed. 'You know...this is useless. I killed the Desert Wolf. It's done. That mad woman will never come back.'

'Malia left you because of that.'

He stiffened. 'At least, she's alive.'

'And how would your father feel if he knew what you'd done?'