We park sloppily when we arrive at the clinic. Scott, Stiles, and I all race inside the building through the back door, bumping into each other slightly as we all wanted to make sure everyone was okay. 

Lydia and Deaton stand over the observation table, the banshee wrapping the vet's bloody forearm with gauze. 

"What happened?" Stiles asks with wide eyes. 

"He ran away. Completely flipped out on us." Lydia replies while continuing to give aid to Deaton's injury. The vet monitors her movements to be sure she does it right, but he doesn't have to worry much. Like with everything else Lydia did, it was perfect. 

"I don't think he's just younger in his body. I think he's younger in his mind too." Deaton informs us as Lydia tapes his bandage. 

They both turn to us after, tense from whatever interaction they had with Derek when he finally woke up. 

"He didn't recognize either of us and he looked scared out of his mind." Lydia says. 

Stiles rubs at his face tiredly. "So, if you're a teenage werewolf and you're scared, where do you go?" 

"A wolf goes back to its den, but Derek lives in a loft." Scott replies. 

"Not when he was a teenager." Stiles points out.

Lydia's eyes widen by a fraction. "The Hale House?" She suggests. 

"It's already been demolished at this point." I say, recalling a conversation with Derek where he mentioned the county reclaiming the property in passing.

Deaton takes a step forward, making us all look at him. 

"He wouldn't know that. It wouldn't have happened yet." He says, making us remember Derek's current mental timeline was different than ours. 

"We need to go, maybe we can intercept him before he gets there." Stiles begins to back away, heading toward the door of the clinic again. 

If Derek was out there, we all knew it was our top priority to find him before anyone else did. 

"You guys go to the Hale House, I'll go to the loft just in case. It'll take some time but I don't want us to miss anything. Plus, maybe Peter saw him." I suggest to Scott and Stiles. 

The idea of having to ask Peter for help made me cringe, but he was Derek's uncle after all. There was a possibility Derek would try and track him if he could remember the scent of his family. 

Scott and Stiles nod in agreement to our last-minute plan, and the three of us move to leave. 

"Hold on," Lydia calls out to stop us. "Say you do manage to catch up to him? What are you going to say to him? That his whole family is dead?"

"I guess I'm going to have to." Scott replies, though that answer only earns a scoff from Lydia. 

"Oh, good luck with that." She says in her sweetly condescending voice. 

Stiles sighs at her sarcasm, getting a taste of his own medicine. "She's probably right. Maybe you shouldn't. You know, at least until we figure out how to get him back to normal."

"I can't lie to him." Scott frowns.

Stiles shrugs nonchalantly in return. "Okay, I'll do it." 

"He'll hear your heartbeat, genius." I give him a pointed look through exasperated eyes. 

"You know how to lie to werewolves." He bites back at me, as if that's any type of defense for him. 

"I trained to do that. You can't even lie on a normal basis." I retort. 

Stiles gives me one of his snarls that's the furthest thing from intimidating and seems like he wants to say more, but Deaton speaks before he can. 

"If he gets to the house first, I don't think any of you will have to lie at all." He says with a stern look. It's his way of saying we needed to get it together without actually saying it. 

Stiles looks to Scott and I. 

"Let's go find Derek." He says, then pauses after a moment of thought. 

"Again." He adds. 

The three of us head outside again, while Lydia and Deaton watch us from the doorway anxiously, not moving an inch as we pull out from the parking lot. 

Scott and Stiles head toward the preserve, while I go in the opposite direction on the highway, needing to go downtown. I pay close attention to the faces of pedestrians that I pass on my way to the loft on the off chance any of them could be Derek. I hated the idea of him being out there all by himself with no idea of what was going on. 

I only hoped we could find him first, and he wouldn't have to experience the feeling of finding out almost his entire family was dead. I know I wouldn't want that. 

When I reach a red light, I hear the distant sound of my phone ringing in my jeans pocket. It was difficult to catch it with the wind, my engine, and the padding of my helmet, but I reach the device in time to answer the call before it defaulted to voicemail. 

I lift my visor while pressing the speaker button on the call, that way I could hear Stiles clearly and not have my voice muffled by my helmet's padding. 

"Did you find him?" I ask right away, almost cringing at how hopeful my voice sounded. I should've known better than that. 

"Sort of." He replies cryptically. "Get to the station, now. He's here." Stiles rushes out, telling me there was no time for more questions. 

Neither of us bothers to say anything else as we end the call. I pocket my phone and slap my visor shut. I check the area around me for any other cars before making a U-turn that may have been a little illegal.  It was worth it for Derek's sake. 

I needed to get to the station and make sure he and the others were okay. 

If Derek had been taken in by the police there was a good chance they fingerprinted him, and if they had, we were in for a world of hurt with the sheriff. I could only imagine how he would react to Derek Hale, of all people, being a puppy-faced teenager. 

Stiles' Jeep and Scott's bike were already parked when I reach the station. I park in the same stall as Scott to save time and leave my helmet on the seat before racing inside. I doubted anyone would steal it in an area filled with cops. 

The deputy at the lobby desk waves me through immediately when I enter, her face showing recognition of me. Most of the deputies here recognized me anyway, already used to the fact that I was a friend to their boss' son. 

I give her a grateful nod as I enter the central area of the station, spotting Derek. He sits on the bench outside of Sheriff Stilinski's office, his elbows on his knees, and his face tired. 

Behind him, inside of said office, was a very disgruntled and red-faced sheriff ranting and pointing angrily at Scott and Stiles. I would never understand how that man didn't have a heart attack every day of his life because of those two buffoons, especially since they were a problem to him long before the supernatural came along. 

Unable to help it, I approach Derek. 

"Derek?" I say softly, wondering if there was a chance he would recognize me. 

He straightens out when I draw near, eyeing me up and down warily. 

"Yeah?" He replies hesitantly, greeting me as a stranger. 

I'm unable to think of anything to say and only stare at him blankly, which just confuses him more. Thankfully, the door to the office opens, saving me from the lack of conversation. Ironically, one of my favorite things about Derek was that the two of us could sit in lengthy silences that never felt awkward. 

The sheriff goes over to Derek, sighing as he glances back at Scott and Stiles. 

"Derek, these two want to have a few words with you. You mind stepping in the office, son?"

At first, Derek doesn't say or do anything, but eventually, he slowly gets up to enter the office. The sheriff holds the door open for him and closes it once he's inside. He comes to stand next to me after, both of us peering inside the room through its large window, observing the bizarre situation in front of us. 

"Definitely not how I thought my day was going to go." Stilinski mumbles. 

"You and me both." I laugh lightly. 

The three boys speak tensely in the office. Scott and Derek mostly, but Stiles butted in once or twice. Things didn't look to be going so well judging by the look on Stiles' face, but I had hope Scott could pull through for us. He could lie to Derek and get him to trust us, and then we could find a way to bring him back. We just had to get over this hurdle first.

After a minute, the sheriff glances at me. He shifts back and forth, gripping the edge of his utility belt casually. 

"The boys told me Kate is alive." He says after clearing his throat, gaining my attention. 

I nod to confirm his words, internally wondering why he was bringing it up. I assumed he probably wanted information on her in case she came to Beacon Hills and started to make her presence known in a gruesome way. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks, throwing me off a little.

I can't contain the surprise on my face, wondering why the sheriff felt the need to offer that. We had our fair share of conversations before but most of them were over our mutual annoyance of his son. The fact that he would even think of checking on me, well, it was touching. 

But I could barely face how I felt on my own, so I doubted I could clearly articulate anything to another person. It also wasn't fair to dump any of my baggage on him. 

"No, it's alright. But thank you, sheriff." I tell him sincerely.

He gives me one of his stoic nods in return, and a comfortable silence settles over us. 

We watch the boys continue to talk. Their conversation seemingly comes to an end as Derek rises from the couch, a lack of tension in his shoulders. I can guess that he had opened up to Scott and Stiles. Scott catches my eye and gives a subtle thumbs-up before coming toward the office door, leaving Derek and Stiles behind him.

"We're going to take it from here, if that's okay?" He waits for Stilinski's response, not wanting to overstep. 

The sheriff has an internal debate, but eventually gives in. "Alright, but be careful. I'll have Haigh discharge him." 

He motions for Derek to come out of the office and join him. Derek does as he's asked, and the two of them venture to one of the desks near the back of the room to talk to the aforementioned deputy. Stiles, Scott, and I wordlessly walk back to the lobby, quietly waiting until Derek was distracted with paperwork before talking.

"I shouldn't have done that. I lied my ass off." Scott mutters in a hushed tone, implying that he hadn't told Derek about the fire.

"Your ass is fine." Stiles pats his back, like what he said was actually supposed to be comforting. I give him a judgmental look and I try not to verbally insult him, leaving it to my expressions.

"You did what needed to be done, Scott." I utter something more helpful.

Stiles quickly caught on that he should say something different. "You saved him a ton of unnecessary pain. We'll figure this out in a day or two, he goes back to being old Derek, everyone's happy."

"Except for Derek, who's never happy." He adds as an afterthought.

"He's another person we're lying to. I just always feel like it's better when we tell the truth." Scott frowns, his brown eyes full of remorse.

"Yeah, okay, but that's Derek Hale in there. He may be a kid right now, but he's still Derek Hale." Stiles replies. 

The three of us secretly observe Derek as he signs some random paperwork. His face was mildly foreign, but a lot of his features were familiar. It made it difficult not to think of the man we knew. This may be Derek Hale, but he wasn't our Derek. 

"Just take him to my house and don't let him out of your sight." Scott orders Stiles, slowly backing away from us. 

"Where are you going?" Stiles eyes him suspiciously. 

A knowing smirk grows on Scott's face. 

"I'm going to talk to the guy we should've gone to before." 

"Uh, yeah, I hate that guy." Stiles scowls at his best friend. 

If every plague that had ever swept the planet's surface was to be personified into one individual, that person would be Peter Hale. It was always so confusing to me how Derek could be around his uncle all the time. Sure, he was family, but he literally murdered him once before. Blood can't possibly run that thick. 

I step away from Stiles, taking after Scott. 

"I'm coming with you." I insist. Going on my own to see Peter was different, but I resented the idea of Scott being in a room alone with him. 

Scott knows better than to argue and holds the door of the lobby open for me to exit. 

"You're leaving me alone with him?" Stiles gapes at me, gesturing to Derek over his shoulder. 

"Yup." I say without any hesitation, leaving the Stilinski boy behind. 

"At least text me if something interesting happens!" He calls out after Scott and I. 

The Alpha and I head over to our respective bikes, straddling the seats. 

"Are you sure you want to come with me?" Scott asks. "With Kate being back, I doubt Peter's gonna be nice about it." 

Peter's history with the Argents was well-known, especially with Kate. There was no telling how he would react to the woman he murdered coming back to life and reverting his nephew to a teenager. Peter had killed her for vengeance, and that spark of rage in him may be reignited because of her resurrection that he inadvertently caused. 

It was also up in the air whether or not he would take out any frustration on me. Peter and I always had a tense dynamic. He was a literal sociopath, and he still saw me as Kate's puppet. I wouldn't put it past him to make a few snide comments. 

"I can handle it." I say, slipping my helmet back on. 

"Then let's go." Scott agrees. 

We ride together, side by side. The setting sun almost makes the drive enjoyable. I try to put the reason we're going to Derek's loft in the back of my mind and pretend Scott and I are doing this purely for fun like we used to.

When Scott wanted to get a dirt bike, he asked me to give him some lessons on my motorcycle. They were two different types of vehicles but had similar layouts, so it would help get him used to the feeling of a two-wheeler with an engine rather than his bicycle. 

This was also around the time he and Allison broke up, so I thought it would be awkward for the two of us to hang out alone, but it was actually the opposite. 

We'd spend all day in an empty parking lot trying to get him used to the feel and control of a bike. He had failed more times than a werewolf with enhanced skills should have, and I laughed each time he fell. Up until that point, it had been a long time since I found humor in anything, and part of me always wondered if Scott failed on purpose just to make me happy.  

Times were different now, and with how much he had to focus on school and spent time flirting with Kira, it left me to ride around on my own. I didn't mind, but I also couldn't lie and say I didn't miss that feeling of having a partner. 

When we reach Derek's building, Malia stands guard at the entrance. Her arms are crossed over her chest while her face holds a stare that has a certain Hale-firmness to it. Scott and I exchange uncertain looks over her presence as we park our bikes. Having Malia be so close to a place Peter could be put us on edge. 

Finding out Peter was her biological father threw us for a loop. Peter was the furthest thing from paternal, and Mister Tate had already claimed the title of Malia's true father. We hid the truth from Malia, keeping her away from Peter for her own good, but that meant we were lying directly to her face. It was risky, and sometimes I'd find myself wondering if it was even worth it. 

"What are you doing here?" Scott questions as we approach the coyote. 

She shrugs, her attitude almost bored. 

"I heard you guys were coming to talk to Peter, and since Lydia tells me he's basically Satan in a v-neck, I figured you'd need all the help you can get." 

"Fine," I say, knowing she wouldn't back down. "But you let Scott do most of the talking." 

She smirks triumphantly and steps aside, allowing us to enter the building. Everything inside was quiet as usual, the only noise being our footsteps against the levels of stairs we have to climb. When we reached the top floor, Derek's floor, Scott yanks open the sliding metal door to reveal the familiar loft. 

Derek wasn't much of an interior decorator. He had a large table, his bed, and a small sofa to fill the space. There was a small kitchen upstairs but the last time I went up there for a snack all he had in his fridge was mayo, so I veered away from it. 

My eyes were drawn to the window that overlooked the small city district of Beacon Hills. Derek's building was sketchy, but there was no denying that he had one hell of a view. 

"What's wrong with you?" Malia tilts her head toward Scott as we enter. 

"Uh, nothing?"

"Your heart is pounding like crazy. Are you nervous or something?" She sniffs the air around him, trying to study the emotions he was giving off.

A voice to the left of us breaks her concentration.

"He's just bad at introductions."

Peter was sitting on the couch against the far wall of the room, his feet up on the cushions and a thin book in hand. I rolled my eyes at his theatrics, purely because that couch was empty when we walked in, meaning he snuck to sit on it. He loved making grand entrances too much. 

"Peter." Scott greets the older wolf with a tight-lipped smile. He holds his hand out, gesturing to the coyote who stands between us. 

"This is Malia." 

Peter immediately drops the book in his hands and slides off the couch. He saunters over to stand in front of his daughter, containing shock and curiosity that stretched across his features as he studies her. 

I watch his movements carefully, ready to pull Malia away from him at a moment's notice. With Peter, there was no telling how he would react. 

"Beautiful eyes." He compliments her, creeping closer. "Did you get them from your father?"

"Mother." Malia corrects him, tilting her head back with a mild cringe. 

"Interesting." He whispers to himself before shrugging. 

"Anyway, I'm sure they've told you a lot about me."

"The homicidal killing spree came up." Malia responds bluntly, making me snort. Peter glares at Scott and I, not exactly thrilled that we told his daughter about his previous atrocities. In all fairness, there wasn't much good to tell her about either. 

"Well, we're all works in progress." He defends himself. 

Malia narrows her eyes on him when she notices the way he tries to stare down Scott and I. 

"Well, when you progress to your next killing spree, why don't you try and make sure they all stay dead?" She snaps, only adding to Peter's confusion as to why we were here. 

"What is that supposed to mean?" He inquires.  

"What do you know about people being turned by a scratch?" Scott asks, not giving it away just yet.

Peter quirks one of his brows, appearing amused. "Did you scratch someone, Scott?" When Scott doesn't answer, Peter continues to talk, loving the sound of his own voice. 

"Don't worry about it, the claws have to go pretty deep." Peter walked away from us to lean on the table at the center of the loft, a glint of excitement dancing in his dark eyes. He probably took pleasure in the idea of Scott mistakenly changing someone, unaware of what he had actually done. 

"But it's possible? Like if you clawed out someone's throat?" Scott presses. 

Peter scoffs, still not catching on. "Well, yeah, it's possible. It's also beyond rare. We're talking one in a..."

There it is. 

I smirk as Peter trails off, his coy features sinking into a grimace as he puts the pieces together.

"Million." He finishes in a dark voice. 

"Can't someone in this town stay dead?" Peter snarls with a clenched fist, spinning around to hit the surface of the table he was against roughly, shoulders going up and down rapidly as hate-fueled breaths leave him.

"I think they were hoping you would." Malia answers him matter-of-factly. I give an agreeable hum, appreciating her lack of social skills more than ever at this moment. 

I wasn't here when Peter first began his reign of terror, but I showed up when the repercussions of his actions were in full force, and around the cusp of his resurrection. I certainly would have loved it if he stayed buried. 

"Do you have any idea why Kate would turn Derek into a teenager again?" Scott questions, avoiding Malia's comment to continue on with what we were supposed to do. We still desperately needed answers.

"What color were his eyes?" Peter still has his back to us, staring out at the city before him. 

"Blue."

"After Paige." The wolf whispers in realization, referring to the sacrifice Derek had to make as a young man, taking the life of his first love in order to save her from the pain of a rejected bite.

"Which could mean around the time he first met Kate." He adds. 

"Derek and Kate knew each other?" Scott replies, stunned. 

"Biblically." Peter turns, grinning. He found a way to recoup his emotions by finding pleasure in another person's pain. 

I was aware of Kate and Derek's past so I wasn't at all thrown off by Peter bringing it up. Kate would often tell me that sometimes we had to use other weapons at our disposal to get what we wanted. I eventually pieced it all together as time passed on, but never said anything about it to Derek. I doubted he wanted a reminder of that. It was disgusting that she never saw a problem with having slept with Derek to murder his family, and would even suggest she'd teach me to do the same thing one day.

"That's right, Scott, you weren't the first wolf to climb into a hunter's bed," Peter glances over at me. "And probably not the last." 

I settle for glaring at him, having to actively resist the urge to bring out the dagger I had concealed in my jacket and hold it to his throat. Peter wasn't only implying I would dare to follow in Kate's morbid footsteps, but he was also indirectly speaking about the intimacy between Scott and Allison. 

Sometimes I hated how much Scott allowed people to get away with because of his morals.

"What does any of that stuff mean?" Malia asks impatiently. "Why did she put him back at that age?" 

"Kate didn't just take him back to being a teenager. She took him back to the age when he still knew her. When he still trusted her." Peter informs us, adding a piece to the story to help us see things clearly.

Derek and Kate sleeping together was one thing, but Peter was saying there were emotions there beyond physical desire. I couldn't help the pity in my gut for Derek when I realized how much Kate had taken from him.

I'm grateful for the interruption of my phone ringing. I reach into my pocket, bringing out the device to see who had saved me from having to hear more about Derek and Kate's relationship.

"It's Stiles." I tell the others before answering, tapping the speaker button for the call.

"So, I may have messed up." Stiles says right away. I grimace, preparing for the worst. Now that I think about it, going with Scott instead of babysitting Stiles might not have been the best idea on my part.

"What happened?" Scott asks his best friend, staring down at my phone. 

"He kind of, sort of, found out about the fire... Technically, it was more your dad's fault than mine-"

"Did he run off again?" Scott cuts off Stiles' potential rambling. "There's a chance Kate's after him, so we need to keep him close."

"No, he's in your bedroom, he'll be totally fine. To be honest, I'm starting to miss the old Derek. So, if you actually think that Kate's coming to find him-" Stiles doesn't finish, and the sound of a door creaking open on his end is all that's heard.

"Stiles?" I say, worried at the abrupt silence.

"You guys might be right." He murmurs guiltily.

I close my eyes, sighing tiredly. I definitely regretted not going with Stiles.

"Did you let Kate take Derek?" I ask him in a scolding tone.

"I let Kate take Derek."

~

||| A/N |||

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