The Autumn Moon -Peter/Chris- Ch2

It had been a week since Peter had seen Chris, and in that week Peter had done everything in his power to avoid the hunter. It hadn't worked. Had Peter believed in a higher power he would have sworn that something was working against his plan to avoid Chris Argent as it did not matter where he went, Chris was there. The grocery store? There was Chris. The school to check in on Scott and Stiles? There was Chris. Meeting up with John in town for coffee? Damn it to hell Chris had been there too. It didn't help that when he would eventually fall asleep at night, Chris was there in his dreams as well.

Perhaps some higher power was trying to tell him something.

But that wasn't the only thing on his mind. Derek had been sneaking out, thinking he was being all super stealthy werewolf, when in reality it was almost impossible for a werewolf to sneak away from the pack. What with their heightened senses and all that Peter knew what was going on at all times in the Hale house. Including when his nephew snuck out.

"You were out all night again." Derek looked like he had been shocked with a cattle prod; his eyes went wide turning to stare at his alpha, surprised that the older man was still awake. "The house is protected Derek…Stiles will be alright."

And then there was the kicked dog look that seemed to be easy enough for anyone in his family to pull off. It was the sort of look that when they were all younger, it could have made it so they could get away with murder. Peter knew better. Peter knew just why Derek had once again snuck out of the house, and he knew where his nephew had gone. It was always the same place. It was always to the Stilinksi house.

"There is no harm in just making sure," Derek muttered going to hang up his coat by the door. The fact of the matter was, Derek was probably right; there was absolutely no harm in making sure that a family of humans who were loyal to his pack was safe. Then again, Derek had gone out and risked his neck in doing so. "I couldn't get in. And Stiles wasn't even there."

"With the McCall kid?" Peter asked, leaning forward in his seat, looking at his nephew intently. Derek nodded. His stomach was churning nervously, while he had made sure that Stiles and his father were safe, the thought had not exactly crossed his mind to make sure that Melissa and Scott would be safe as well. "At his house?"

Derek shook his head. "No. Mrs. McCall said they were over at that new girl's house."

Peter was out of his seat in the next instant, slamming Derek into the wall. "Scott, the new werewolf, the werewolf who was turned by the rogue is out with the hunter's daughter? At her house? Oh in what world did you think that that would be a good idea Derek?" His eyes glowed red, a growl low in his throat.

"They are hunters Peter…their house would be the second safest place besides here." Derek struggled, trying to force Peter back away from him. "Let me go."

"Why should I?" Peter's claws sank into Derek's shoulder. "You disobeyed me, and now a member of our pack is in danger and a new wolf is in the hands of the hunters. Why should I let you go?" He was angry. It was irrational, but he was angry and he couldn't stop himself. It had been getting worse since the fire, his ability to control the emotional outbursts. When it came to the safety of his family, of his pack, he could barely contain any form of emotion.

"Peter…" A soft voice said from behind him. Her scent filled the room and Peter closed his eyes stepping back away from his nephew to turn to face her, face Laura. "It's not his fault." Her right arm was still bandaged from the rogue's bite, it was taking longer to heal than normal. The look on her face, the way her hair was pulled back, she looked almost exactly like her mother. "We can go check on them, make sure they are safe."

She moved to stand by Derek, pressing a towel to the bloody wound on his shoulder. The two of them looked at him, a flicker of fear in each of their eyes. "You two stay here…" he eventually told them. "I'll go by myself. Easier to make it so no one knows I'm there."

He didn't take no for an option, he didn't stay to listen to their concerns, he was out the door within a few seconds. Not a moment later, his paws hit the ground and he was off running through the woods. Leaves and twigs crunched and snapped beneath his weight, the night was alive, bustling with the sounds of birds, of large cats and small animals. But none of them would dare challenge him, the animals were smarter than to go after a wolf.

The wind ruffled his dark fur, the cool air nipped at his nose. He loved running, it made him feel alive, and he felt free. He lifted his nose to the wind and took a breath, breathing in the scents around him, searching, trying to find the one distinct one that was Stiles. It was faint, but it was there on the wind and god damn it all if he could smell it they were surely outside. Of all the idiotic things they could possibly do, being outside at night was at the top of that list.

He made a mental note to give both Stiles and Scott a very long lecture about being idiots and being smart and what someone should and should not do when there's a rogue werewolf running about.

Idiots. The both of them.

It was easy enough for him to follow the scent all the way to the house. It stank of Argent, of hunters and with the slight aroma of wolfsbane. He couldn't get that close, any closer and it would probably make him feel sick to his stomach. Or it might not have, it could probably just be that there was wolfsbane inside the house and not actually in the impeccably kept garden out back and along the empty driveway. Where the kids were.

Peter recognized them. Scott was practically fawning over Allison, who seemed to be unable not to smile at him. Lydia was talking to her boyfriend, Jackson, if his memory of one of Stiles's ramblings were correct. And then there was Stiles himself who was sitting alone and just watching the two couples. The third (or in this case fifth) wheel.

They looked happy, innocent, and his heart ached uncomfortably. It reminded him so much of his years in high school before the fire, back when he, John, Melissa, and Alan were all friends and everything was so much simpler. Then it all went to hell and shit hit the ceiling fan and well. There are some things that certain friendships could not survive.

Like having your sister murder the majority of your family. That certainly would kill any relationship.

Everyone seemed safe. Everyone seemed okay. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Perhaps his fears had been misplaced, it was possible he could have been wrong.

The wind blew and Peter's blood ran cold. That scent, wet fur, blood, musk. The fur on the back of his neck stood on end, a growl forming low in his throat. His eyes scanned the darkness searching for-there behind the kids. A pair of glowing red eyes.

Slowly, he stalked towards the group, keeping his form low, hidden by the shadows. Every part of his body told him to howl, to get Derek and Laura there as soon as possible, but that would alert the creature to his presence. That was something he couldn't do just yet.

He was close, close enough he could make out its form in the darkness, crouched, ready to strike. The beast was staring at the children, at Scott and at Stiles. It knew one of them was his creation, but it couldn't tell which. The situation was bad, and none of the kids noticed anything, not even Scott.

The moment it started to move towards them, the moment it leapt from the darkness, Peter lunged forward.

Someone screamed as he slammed his body into the rogue's sending it flying back towards the house. It hit the wall, slid to the ground and got back to its feet, not even stunned. It growled, claws scraping against the stone patio.

Peter stood in front of the kids, teeth bared, ears tilted back in anger. The pounding of the frightened teen's hearts was distracting, but motivating. He tilted his muzzle to the sky and let out a howl, the sound cutting through the night air clear, crisp, and haunting.

"Look out!" Stiles shouted, and Peter snapped his gaze back towards the rogue wolf just in time to move out of the way from its swipe of its clawed paw.

He hadn't been fast enough, his shoulder exploded with pain, the scent of blood filled his nose. The growl that escaped his throat was animalistic as he lunged forward using his powerful hind legs to propel him forward. His jaws locked around the back of the creature's neck, the coppery taste filling his mouth almost instantly. It roared in pain, reaching around to claw him, trying to dislodge him. Peter wouldn't let go. He was determined to drag the damn thing away.

All he had to do was give the pups a chance to get back inside and away from it.

He never smelled their arrival. He never heard the running footsteps, the orders being snapped. He never heard the sound of the gun.

Peter let go of the rogue's neck and dropped to all fours staring at Chris Argent, eyes cold, gun pointed at him. It wasn't until it felt like his viens were on fire that he had even registered that he had been hit. His form shook, the change coming unwilled and unwanted. No he did not want to change in front of them. Not again. Not like this.

The wolfsbane had hit its mark. Peter hit the ground hard, a strangled growl escaping his mouth as he clutched at his stomach. It burned. Fire. Pain. Bloody hell it was worse than being trapped in the fire.

Stiles was by him, fear in his eyes. What was going on? No he couldn't even think well enough to comprehend it.

"Get away from him." That was Stiles it had to be Stiles. But who was he talking too. He turned his red eyes towards where the kid was standing, god it took so much of his strength just to do that. Argent. He was there. He was staring.

And then Derek showed up, shifted, claws extended. Laura croutched down by Peter, and he could hear the both of them snarling. There were people, talking. Shouting. Bloody hell he couldn't think. His claws scraped at his skin, fangs tearing at his mouth. Agony, pure agony. Wolfsbane alone wouldn't do this.

With all the strength he could muster, he forced himself to his feet. He must have looked as bad as he felt, the horror struck looks he was getting from the hunters were a pretty good indication of that. Well…that and the fact Derek was probably about to rip their throats out. He placed a hand on his nephew's shoulder and felt the other man tense as Peter took one step forward, another, till he was standing directly in front of Chris Argent again.

"This…is the thanks I get for saving your daughter?" he hissed at him. Granted it was not as threatening as it might have been due to the poison pumping through his veins. "Your family tried to kill me once. They won't succeed again." Peter meant to turn his back on him, meant to walk away. Instead he stumbled and nearly fell, but Chris caught him.

"You're an idiot…" The hunter muttered and easily lifted the injured alpha into his arms. "Alan still in town?" Peter nodded, his body shaking, shivering despite the fact he was fairly certain his veins were filled with lava at that point. "I'm taking him to-" Peter never heard what Chris said next, darkness consumed him.

"He doesn't want to see you Chris."

There was someone talking…someone talking to Chris. What the hell was the hunter still doing there? But who the hell was the person speaking?

"I just want to make sure he's alright Alan…"

Oh. Deaton. Right. That would have been the smart thing to do. At least someone was intelligent enough to realize that 'oh look Peter's dying we should take him somewhere to get fixed up.'

"Then call and ask John, I'm sure he'd be willing to tell you."

Peter groaned softly, aware of the table he was laying on, the absolutely ice cold table he was on. His head throbbed and it took him few tries before he could actually open his eyes wide enough to take in his surroundings. He glanced towards the voices only to find a closed door, then to his other side where Derek and Laura sat.

Derek was pale, extremely pale, his face completely devoid of emotion. Laura's eyes were filled with tears.

Slowly, painfully, he sat up a groan falling off of his lips. Their eyes snapped towards him. "I'm not dead yet you two…." And then Laura was on him, practically crawling into his lap, burying her face in his neck as a new wave of tears fell from her eyes. "Hey it's alright I'm here…" he whispered to her, stroking her hair softly, his arms wrapped around her.

He glanced towards his nephew who just stood there frozen. Peter held out his arm to him, but his nephew didn't move, just stared at him. It was shock that stilled the wolf's actions, and, Peter assumed, that it would be a while before Derek would actually be able to process what had just happened.

God he didn't imagine what would have happened had that bullet actually killed him.

Peter pressed a soft kiss to Laura's temple, holding her protectively. The sound of the door opening caught his attention. Of course something would happen to ruin the moment and right then Peter would have liked nothing more than to get off the table and slam that door shut.

"Welcome back to the world of the living Peter." Dr. Alan Deaton had a smile on his face as he moved towards the werewolf, Laura slipping out of Peter's arms. "Lay back for me Peter." Peter, for once, did what he was told. When Deaton lifted the bandage on his abdomen, he nearly gagged at the foul odor that came from the wound. "The combination of wolfsbane and silver did damage….you're lucky that you got here before it spread to your heart."

"You mean I'm lucky that the hunter didn't want to start a war?" And there was the look that most of his friends seemed to know would get him to shut up and be serious. "Guess I am lucky." He certainly didn't feel lucky.

Deaton pressed the bandage back down. "It will take some time to heal, so no galavanting all over the city."

"Well there goes that dance party I was going to…"

"Peter."

"Alright alright I'll be good."

That seemed to satisfy the man as he helped Peter sit back up. "Are you up for some visitors?"

"Do I actually have a say?"

The vet grinned at him and shook his head as he opened the door. The first thing Peter noticed was Stiles running into the room and peering at him nervously, his dad following him. Then, behind them stood Chris Argent. Who Peter had no intention to even give the time of day to. Even if he did save his ass.

What he did not expect was for John to give him a tight hug. "Thank you…you saved him…" John said in a hushed, strained voice that Peter had only heard once before. "I don't know what I would have done if…" And that last time had been when John's wife died.

Peter put an arm around his friend. "Don't have to thank me my friend. Just be glad I was there."

That was when his eyes met Chris's, and time seemed to slip away. He knew that there were other people in the room, that Laura was talking to Stiles while Derek hovered around the teenager protectively, that John and Alan had started talking, but none of it mattered. "Can…you all give us some privacy?" The room went silent, all eyes shifting from to the hunter and back. "Now would be preferable."

Laura seemed like she wanted to object, but Deaton managed to get her out of the room, much to her apparent dislike. The others soon left, the door closing behind them with a soft click. And they were alone.

Peter swung his legs off the table and stood up, shaky, but able to stand on his own. He snatched the shirt from the counter and made about putting it on. The silence was making him nervous, anxious. He hadn't been alone with this man in…god he had no idea how long it had been. "Thank you for saving me…"

"You're welcome." He hoped that would be it, he hoped that Chris would turn and leave. After all the man had shot him. "Peter I didn't…I was aiming for…"

He turned to face him. "I know…"

"My daughter…I couldn't. I lost focus." Chris shook his head, his hands shaking. "I never miss. I don't miss. But Allison…" Peter could smell the tears starting to form, could hear his heart racing. It was too much…and damn it all he did care. "I couldn't lose someone else…The fire…" That struck a cord with him, and all the anger and hate he had been trying to feel towards the hunter was gone. Chris had been there that night, had tried to save him from the fire and nearly died in the process. "I lost you…I couldn't lose my daughter…"

With all the courage he could muster, and ignoring the tiny voice in his head that was screaming at him that this was the worst idea he had ever had, Peter stood in front of him. "I know Chris…" He brushed his knuckles against the other man's cheek, ran his thumb over his jaw. Peter let his palm rest against Chris's cheek and felt the man press against his hand.

Again, Chris had bared his neck to him, again he was offering himself to him. This time, Peter accepted (despite the increasingly annoying voice of reason in his brain). He wrapped his arm around the hunter's waist, running his nose over his neck, breathing in his scent. God he had forgotten how much he had loved it, how much he had missed it when he had been forced to leave. Peter brushed his lips against his skin, feeling the man in his arms shudder against him.

As he pulled back to meet Chris's gaze again, everything in him told him this was a bad idea. There had been a very good reason why Peter had left him all those years ago.

"If you come near him again, I will kill him…"

Chris let his forehead rest against Peter's his eyes closed, his heart pounding hard in his chest. Was he nervous? Just as nervous as Peter was? He must have been. The hunter slipped his arms around him holding him gently so not to aggravate the wound to Peter's side. "I love you…"

"If you come near him again, I will kill him…"

Nothing else mattered. Not his pack, not the rogue, not the people standing just in the next room. At that moment Peter did not even care about the threat, he didn't care about the past. The only thing that mattered was the man in his arms.

"I love you too." His voice was barely above a whisper as he brought their lips together, kissing him for the first time in…in…he couldn't remember how long it had been. Did it even matter anymore? Just the fact that he was standing there with Chris in his arms, their lips moving against one another's, that was what mattered. And oh how he wanted it to go on forever. But it couldn't. Not when they were in Deaton's office with people standing just beyond the door anxiously waiting to see if either man would try and kill the other.

If only they knew.

Reluctantly Peter pulled back from the kiss, bringing his hand up to rest against the other man's cheek again. "I promise you Chris…I'll never leave you again. Nothing will happen to you or your family. I will keep you safe."

"Peter…Peter come on open your eyes."

A frown formed across the alpha's lips. What the hell?

"Wake up Peter…"

The world around him melted away, Chris melted away.

"Come back to us Peter."

And then he opened his eyes. The world was blurry, the ceiling dark, the bed below him comfy and warm. There was a figure but at that moment he couldn't make it out. It just looked like a blob.

"Morning sleeping beauty." Deaton.

Peter groaned and tried to sit up. "What happened…?"

"You were shot with a silver bullet laced with wolfsbane." Yes, he could recall that very well. Could recall the entire night very well. "You've been out cold for almost a full day now."

"Are the children?"

"They're fine." Deaton paused looking at him. "It did kill someone."

His stomach dropped, it felt like he was falling. "Who?"

"Isaac Lahey's father."

"Is the boy okay?"

Deaton shook his head. "No. Derek and Laura went out to find him."

Peter shut his eyes again, sinking back into his pillows. It was not something he needed. He didn't want to deal with another brand spanking new werewolf. Dealing with that idiot Scott was hard enough.