Between a Rock and the Godfather

[bethanys_hex]

Summary: Derek deals with the revelation about his uncle and tries to pick up the pieces, while Peter pushes his own agenda. Missing scenes for 1x10 “Co-Captain”.
Genre: Teen Wolf
Rating: R

Derek sat on the floor of the hospital waiting for his broken legs to knit themselves back together. Blood coated his lip like war paint, and glass bit into his clothes. Peter Hale stood over him, leaning on a counter top while he poured out a story of woe. Peter stressed how much he regretted killing his niece. It was such a disgrace, adding one more death to their family tragedy, but he wasn't to blame. It was an accident. If only he'd known. If only he'd been in his right mind at the time.

You're not in your right mind now, Derek thought vindictively while he listened, helpless to move. The walls of the hospital leaned in on him like the sides of a trap, and the implications of Peter as an Alpha finally started to spin round in his head as his rage bled out of him.

For six years he and Laura had visited Peter in this awful, sterile place. Derek would ask for advice, or talk about his troubles the same way one would speak to a grave, wishing he could get an answer back. He'd watched the powerful and gentle man decay in his chair, spoon fed by nurses. They'd been told he would never walk again, never move, and never speak. The great story teller of their family, made mute. Hearing Peter's voice after all these years left an ache deep in Derek's chest, even as Peter's words grew more demented.

Derek had read once, that the greatest hate only came from the greatest love, and in that moment he hated his uncle the way he'd only hated one other person in his life. Sweet and vicious Kate.

Peter leaned in, his handsome face contorted with vapid sympathy and whispered about revenge. Derek listened, entranced almost against his will. Peter's offer of a raging pack filled with bloodlust was a poor substitute for Laura's love, but for a moment he wanted it anyway. Derek was beaten, and bruised and he'd missed his Uncle so much. He was so damned lonely that he wanted everything Peter said to be true.

Then Peter blinked, smiled, and the spell was broken. Derek took a shaky breath. Laura was dead, and no matter how much Derek might want his Uncle back Peter could never make that right.

Besides, killing every Argent in the world wouldn't be enough revenge to put his family's souls to rest. Because the great secret was that the real culprit of that fire was sitting right here on the floor. It was Derek who'd told Kate about the family heritage. It was Derek, naïve and in love, who invited her to the family reunion. It was Derek, ultimately, who killed them all.

In his better, honest moments, he knew that he was a victim too. He knew that Kate had damaged him and it was because of her that he had no trust in people. To Derek only his own kind mattered, his pack and his family. Humanity was nothing but a mine field of liars, and every time he met someone new he wondered if their smiling face hid another murderer.

So if Kate had come back to Beacon Hills to cover her tracks, Derek couldn't deny that he had done the same. When Laura had called to tell him she was back in their home town investigating something, Derek's blood had frozen in his veins. He was on the road, following her trail before the sun came up. He was so close behind her that he'd been in the woods looking for her the same night she was killed.

Looking back, he guessed he'd been right the first time, when he thought her murderer had lured him there. He'd just been wrong to think it was hunters. It was Peter. His Uncle wanted him in his pack just as much as Scott. Which meant Derek was in as much danger as Scott of being bent to Peter's will, and he realized with horror, that he always had been. After all, Peter had been hunting him first. It changed everything.

If Derek continued to pursue this vendetta now he couldn't put it down to a dispute between rivals. Peter was family. More then that he had beaten Derek soundly after a challenge and as much he loathed the thought, by the law of the pack, Peter was Derek's Alpha. Next to that his speech was little more then a veneer of civility, hiding a demand for total obedience.

If Derek tried to stop him now it would be mutiny. He swallowed at the thought. Wolves killing rival packs or loners went with the territory, literally, but for a pack to turn on itself was very different. He'd only heard stories, terrible fables akin to the Donnor Party where brother killed brother. It always ended bloody. He would likely die, Scott could die. Could he really do that? Could he drag Scott to his death by involving him in this? Or should he give in, and let Peter lead?

He looked up and saw the answer in Peter's face. His Uncle would drive them both mad, just like him. It was quite literally kill or be killed for him and Scott. Peter had to die. Since Derek wasn't strong enough to kill him in open combat, he'd have to find some other way. Something underhanded and devious. In the meantime he would need Peter to think Derek had fallen in line like a good little Beta. Because if Derek didn't agree to follow him, Peter would kill him right now. Then there would be no-one to avenge Laura, and no-one to stand between Peter and Scott.

Decision made, he looked up at Peter as his monologue wound to a close. His Uncle chuckled and plucked a handkerchief from his jacket, then crouched before Derek. Derek flinched back but Peter pretended not to notice, wiping at the blood under his nose while Derek held his aching ribs.

“Are you with me Derek?”

Derek winced and, swallowing his anger, he ground out,

“I'm with you.”

“Good,” Peter said, smiling. “This will all turn out in the end, you'll see. We'll rebuild the family, and you'll be my second.” He finished with Derek's lip and tucked the red stained handkerchief away.

“Now, let's catch up with Scott.”

Derek's pinched face fell, a chill racing down his spine and he thought, god no, not Scott. He could play into Peter's insanity for however long it took, but not Scott.

“Where is he, Derek?” Peter asked.

Derek said nothing, looking away from his Uncle's face and focusing on the cold light of the door. Peter reached down, took Derek's hand from his ribs and gave it a violent twist. Derek howled in pain, arching up and tipping his head towards the ceiling while each of his finger's was slowly broken. Still, he gritted his teeth and kept his silence.

“Derek,” Peter rebuked. “I'm disappointed. Scott may be naïve but you know how this works.” He leaned and whispered “I need you both to make our pack strong, and see justice done for our family. We all have to do our part to make them pay. You want them to pay, don't you Derek?”

He did. He hated the Argents and he hated Kate. He also didn't want Scott to become a killer like Peter.

“I wanted us to meet him together Derek, but I will find him on my own if I have too,” Peter sighed, looking almost apologetic while he crushed Derek's hand, and Derek folded. Leading his Uncle to Scott was bad, but letting Peter take the teen by surprise would be so much worse. He needed to mitigate, he didn't trust Peter alone with Scott.

“School!” Derek shouted through the pain. “He playing,” gasp “Lacrosse game.”

“Now, that was easy wasn't it?” Peter said, smiling benevolently as he released his nephew's hand. Derek glowered up at him and Peter stood, dusting off his jacket.

“Get up,” he ordered. Derek rose, tucking his hand into his chest and using the counter behind him to pull himself to his feet.

They left the hospital, Derek limping behind his Uncle. He was relieved to see there was no sign of Stiles. Smart kid. He must have run when they had their backs turned. Peter made Derek wait while he took up the body of his nurse and dumped her in the trunk of her own car. Then he took Derek's Camarro, and drove them to the high school while Derek brooded in the passenger seat.

The game was already over by the time they arrived. The ragged ends of the crowd lingered on the field, and Derek followed Peter, feeling like a dog on a leash, as they skirted the edge of the mob and walked towards the school. They waited in the shadow of the gym, hidden from the glaring streetlight while the boisterous players went inside chanting “state, state, state.”

Derek's ears filtered through the hubbub until he tuned into Scott's desperate voice, calling out for Stiles. Derek winced, and really hoped Stiles had made it out. Scott would never forgive him if Stiles died. Peter made a considering sound, while Stile's name bounced off the walls and Derek glowered at him, privately imagining the thrill of ripping his throat out. Peter huffed and gave him an exasperated look in return.

“Don't look at me like that, Derek,” he said and leaned back against the school wall, considering “He has possibilities.”

“Stiles?” Derek choked, lips curling back in disgust.

Stiles had possibilities? Derek was offended at the very thought. He wouldn't turn Stilinsky if the kid was the last human on earth. He was a neurotic mess, annoying as hell, and always in the way. Every time Derek called on Scott, Stiles was there pulling his friend in the other direction. Derek wanted to strangle him. If he had to put up with that kid day in and day out...

Derek was distracted from his mounting horror at the thought Stiles as a permanent fixture in his life, by a change in Scott's tone. He went from the plaintive call of pup looking for rescue, for Stiles dammit. To the low, shaky sound of someone facing down an enemy. A new voice, smooth and confidant answered him.

Derek didn't understand much, but he got the gist. Some kind of juvenile barter about Allison Argent. He tried not to roll his eyes. He'd given up keeping track of the ups and down's of Scott's high-school life. Whoever was friend's one week were enemies the next. The only constant seemed to be Stiles. Eternal thorn in the side that he was.

The hallway slowly calmed, then emptied. Derek's ears filled with the familiar sounds of a busy locker room. The players all left one by one, while Scott lingered over his routine. Probably waiting for Stiles, Derek thought, and hoping his friend would show up. Then the last player left and Scott was finally alone.

“That's our cue,” Peter said, and flipped the breaker. The lights went out and they were inside in a moment. Derek took up a post at the door and stood silently nursing the hand Peter had crushed, waiting for the show to begin. Soon Scott came round the corner, following an errant ball and Derek had a moment to wish Peter had waited until the teen had some pants on. Give him a little dignity for the coming ordeal at least. Then Scott saw Derek and the teen's face broke into a mess of relief and anger as he exclaimed,

“Thank god... where the hell have you been, do you have any idea what's been going on?”

In answer, Derek looked over at Peter, hidden in the dark and toying with a Lacrosse stick. Scott followed his gaze and paled.

“It's you,” he gasped and backed up, looking at Derek for an explanation. Derek felt a small sense of victory that somewhere in Scott's mind he was still the lesser of two evils. He kept his eyes on Peter, watching his enemy from across the room while Peter began to talk. His Uncle had always been theatrical and he liked making an entrance, but this stank of something more calculated. There was a reason he'd brought them here now, when he could have contacted Scott any time. He wanted Derek to witness this and as Peter spoke Derek began to see why.

It was all about the pack. More specifically, making it Peter's pack and establishing his place at the top of the hierarchy.

Derek ground his teeth, resenting the high handedness. Peter hadn't been the one pouring his blood and sweat and time into nursing a bond with Scott. Teaching him what a pack meant, keeping the kid out of trouble and being worried all the damn time. Peter made Derek chase him over rooftops, toyed with him in the hospital, stabbed him through the chest, and left Scott to get shot by hunters. He'd terrorized them both like it was a game, and now he was going to expect their loyalty?

Well Derek wasn't giving in without a fight. An Alpha was supposed to protect and guide it's pack, not abuse them. This was the type of thing that led to massacres. Peter had no right to wear his sister's hard won rank, Derek thought, nursing his hate.

“I don't want to kill all of them,” Peter assured Scott, flippantly. “Just the responsible ones, and that doesn't have to include...” He paused and looked up at Derek, feigning loss. Derek realized that was his cue. Shit. Peter wasn't going to let him remain a passive bystander to this mental whipping.  He was going to make Derek finish it himself. After a moment Derek answered in a surly mumble.

“Allison.”

That was the final straw that set Scott off, just as Peter must have known it would.

“You're on his side?” Scott whispered, betrayed. “Are you forgetting the part where he killed your sister?”

“It was a mistake,” Derek answered, giving the rote response while he looked at his Uncle and Peter smiled back.

“What?” Scott cried,

“It happens,” Derek insisted, helpless. Scott didn't see that he was lying, and it hurt that Derek couldn't speak on his own behalf. He wished he could explain to the kid, a whisper, even a wink would have been enough but he couldn't risk it with Peter in the room. His Uncle probably counted on that. It was the prefect double play. If Derek said nothing he lost Scott's trust, if he did speak Peter would know he was disloyal and kill him. Either way, the Alpha won. With few well placed words Peter had torn them apart.

Peter gave Derek a knowing smile and then moved in on Scott, still talking. He slid his nails out one by one, and then stabbed them into the back of Scott's neck.

Derek started forward, confused, but Peter stopped him with a look and Derek fought the instinct to tear Peter off of Scott. He wondered for a moment if this was what Scott struggled with everyday. Derek had never fought with himself. He'd never had to. His instincts had always been good things, but now he had one demanding he bare his throat to his Uncle and another insisting he charge between Peter and Scott. Neither of which were ultimately useful.

So even though he hated to, he left Scott lying on the locker room floor where Peter dropped him and followed his Uncle outside.

The night air was crisp and cold, with the fresh new rain smell and Derek took a deep breath on the gym doorstep. Trying to drive away the scent of terror and confusion clouding the school behind him. He couldn't wait to get away from Peter. He had things to do and places to be. Plans bubbled in is mind, even ones as stupid and audacious as breaking into the Argent's storehouse. Kate had enough guns and ammo for them both.

Then Peter stopped and pulled Derek aside, with a touch at his shoulder.

“I hope that was instructive, Derek.”

“More then,” Derek grumbled, warily eyeing the older wolf.

“Good,” Peter answered, “now, there's something I need you to do.”

Derek, irritated at this new obstacle snapped back,

“What?”

Peter smiled. He was always smiling like some kind of a salesman and Derek shuddered down to his sneakers at the sight of it, knowing something awful was coming.

“That friend of Scott's, Jackson? the one that smells like fear?”

Derek frowned and paused, then remembered. The voice in the hallway. The boy with gelled hair and the stench of paranoia and money. He nodded at Peter, he knew the one.

“You need to kill him,” Peter finished and Derek balked.

“What?!” He whispered.

“He knows about Scott, Derek,” Peter said. “What did you think that talk in the hallway was all about?” he clucked his tongue in disappointment. “He's going tell the Argents about Scott, unless Scott gets him the bite. A nice bit of amateur blackmail, but not very good for us. Now, you don't want anything to happen to Scott do you?”

“No,” Derek admitted.

“Of course not, and that's why he has us. This is for the pack,” Peter said.

“Why not just give him the bite then?” Derek asked, thinking, it's not like you've been selective up until now. Scott was a good kid but he wouldn't have been Derek's first choice. Peter actually laughed.

“That's not really the point.”

Derek glanced back at the door to the locker room.

“What about Scott?”

“Don't worry about Scott,” Peter ordered and Derek narrowed his eyes, asking,

“Where will you be?”

“I have some errands of my own to run,” Peter answered looking vaguely off in the direction of the hospital. Then he patted Derek on the back and turned away, walking off. Derek shrugged his shoulders, as if he could shake off the feel of his Uncle's hand.

“Oh, and Derek, get yourself phone.” Peter's voice drifted back, giving one final order before he disappeared around the bend. Derek closed his eyes and leaned against the school wall, seeking the illusion of support.

So this was his test. Scott had to kill his friends, Derek had to kill a sixteen year old boy. Peter was calling his bluff. His Uncle was too smart to think had Derek believed his excuses about Laura, but he would believe Derek had fallen in line out of fear. Ironically, as with all the best lies, it wasn't too far from the truth. Derek was scared. He was also desperate, and desperation could drive a man far beyond what he'd thought himself capable of.

Derek had never murdered someone before. Now he would have to.

He pushed himself off the wall and walked away from the school in the opposite direction of his Alpha, his breath fading behind him like the wisp of a ghost. He hoped that Stile's would be there soon to pick Scott off the floor. Derek didn't think Peter would allow him near the pup until this task was done, and Jackson Whittemore lay cold on the ground. So he had better get it done as soon as possible.

Then he would kill Peter.

~

Peter strolled through the parking lot, his loafers making satisfied clicks on the damp pavement. Derek was so amusingly stubborn. Peter could smell the hatred off him as easily as he could smell the fear off of Scott. Derek wasn't giving in... probably due to Laura. Dear Laura, it really was a shame she had to die, but that was no reason to waste his nephew as well. If that boy wanted Peter to think he'd fallen in line, then he'd do whatever he had to for Peter to keep thinking that. All Peter needed was keep his nephew busy for a little while. Derek would surrender soon enough, falling prey to his own lies. He was willing to kill a boy to fool Peter, and Derek would soon find that the very thing he used to disguise his hatred, was the thing which would bind him into Peter's pack. Nothing tied a man to you quite like a shared murder.

Once he had Derek, it was only a matter of time before Scott followed. He'd watched them both, Scott circling Derek, and Derek slowly drawing the younger one in. It was good. It saved Peter the tedious task of seeking Scott out himself. He let Derek deal with all the preliminaries until Scott relied on Derek. Now they'd be too busy distrusting each other, to give him a united fight. As Machiavelli had said, it was better to be feared then loved as a ruler.

~

Derek spent the next day following Jackson Whittemore. He had plenty of opportunity to snatch the teen, but couldn't make himself do it. He was there on the roof when Jackson drove into the warehouse district and was pulled over by Kate's brother. He saw Chris Argent question him while Jackson wavered. He was close to jumping in, when at the last moment Scott and Stiles arrived, breaking up the scene and Derek let out a sigh of relief, seeing them both alive and unharmed.

That was when Derek knew he couldn't put this off. Jackson was already in the Argent's sights, and judging from the display below the boy would fold like cheap paper if they asked any more questions. Derek had to finish him now.

So later that night when Jackson went down to the school and settled in to bench press his weights, Derek was there. He walked around the lockers following the beat of the music drowning the human's heart, and sat himself on the far bench.

It was a stupid to bench press without a spotter, he thought. Derek wasn't sure if that was a sign of an overblown ego, or incredibly low self esteem. All day this kid had gone from one extreme activity to the next, as if he was trying to purge the fear from his body. Yet it still clung to him. Derek took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of the boy he was going to kill. Knowing it would stay with him for the rest of his life, branded on his mind almost as much as Scott's.

He clung to the fact that this Jackson deserved to die. He deserved it for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, for being a boy no one would miss, and for meddling with Scott. How idiotic to try and blackmail your way into a pack. Derek snorted to himself. It was short sighted, and this kid was so full of himself he actually thought it would work. He thought an Alpha would want him in a pack after threatening it's youngest member.

Next to his pack one human life shouldn't mean anything. Derek could do this. It was a just like any other hunt and there was nothing to stop him... nothing. He took a long breath and rolled his head along his shoulders, popping his spine and gearing himself up. Then he picked up the i-phone from it's nest of speakers and cut off the music.

It was easy leading the teen away after that. Too easy, and Derek wished it wasn't. He even paused once in the hallway when he caught a whiff of Kate's perfume, hoping that he could leave off Jackson and deal with her instead. The smell was vague and distant though, she was probably long gone. If she wasn't, well, perhaps she'd follow him and there would be someone to stop Derek after all.

“What?” Jackson asked, looking around the hallway. His voice dancing between scorn and fright. Derek shook his head.

“It's nothing, come on.”

They said nothing more, as Derek lead him to his car. Peter wouldn't care where he did the deed. In fact he'd probably like it if Derek left the school a bloody mess, but Derek wasn't going to do something so public. Besides, Scott used that room, and if he was the one to find Whittemore... Derek shivered. No, if he had his way, Scott would never find out. The teen was all he had left at this point and he couldn't bear to fall any farther in his eyes than he had already.

So he would do this quietly. He would finish Whittemore, then bury him far out in the woods, where no one would find him. They might have him on a missing persons list for months before they finally gave him up for dead. Scott would know something happened, but Derek would make sure he never found the body. With luck, he'd kill Peter before the next moon. Then he could pin this murder on his Uncle and no one, especially Scott, would ever have to know. Derek already carried the guilt for eleven dead after all, what was one more.

“Where are we going?” Jackson asked, breaking the hollow quiet of the car.

“Into the woods,” he answered.

“That's where you'll... do it?” Jackson asked, trying to sound steady.

“I can't.” Derek answered, and before Jackson's jaw could drop he finished, “I'm not an Alpha.” Jackson made a noise and Derek glanced over.

“Surprised?” he asked.

“I thought it was just you and Scott. You were the Big Bad Wolf.”

Derek smirked and turned back to the windshield.

“No, there's another. He's out by the old house. He'll give you what want,” Derek lied through his pointy teeth and jerked on the gear shift, speeding up the forest road.

Peter would not win. Derek would sacrifice everything, even his own identity to make sure that happened. What he lost in the meantime didn't matter. Regrets were luxuries of the future.

~

Three nights later Derek knelt over the burnt body of his Uncle, cold mud soaking his jeans, and ready to make to killing blow. All he had to do was loose his claws and it would over. In the background Scott pleaded with him to stop, and Derek closed his eyes against the noise. After everything he'd done, and everything that had been done to him, he deserved this. He couldn't stop now.

A bloody gurgle echoed from his Uncle's lips, mocking him from the ground. What was one fleeting promise, Derek thought. Why should Scott's desire for humanity matter to him? Even if the cure was true, and it probably wasn't... It wouldn't make anything better. Scott would become just another human teenager. He'd return to his normal life and Derek would be alone. Laura would still be dead and so would Peter, but if he killed Peter now then Derek would become the Alpha.

That fact had always been in the back of his mind, while he hunted down this madman. He knew that killing Peter would change him, and once he had the power of the Alpha no one would be able to tie him up to a car battery to torture him. He would have a pack, albeit a small one. He'd have the connection and power over Scott that Peter had abused. Scott would never be able to leave him. Their kind weren't meant to be alone. Laura would have wanted it this way.

“You've already decided,” Peter's voice gurgled from his fading corpse. Derek looked into his Uncle's goading eyes and raised his right hand. Nails extended into claws. Then he brought it down on his Uncle's neck, severing the throat in a single bloody swipe. Scott yelled behind him, but Derek felt no remorse. Only the hard sense of victory after a long hunt.

He stood and turned, power surging through him in a red rush. His muscles twitched as he looked over his shoulder and stared at the others gathered round the clearing. They all looked so small suddenly. His lips drew back, showing his teeth as his voice echoed across the wood.

“I'm the Alpha now.”

Finally he could say, I win, and behind him the burned and bloody corpse of his Uncle was still smiling.