Back Again » Peter Hale

01

mizpah

(n.) the deep emotional bond between people, especially those separated by by distance or death

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Peter Hale was a master as concealing his feelings, masking them underneath anger and pride, leading people to believe that he was uncaring—a sociopath, but that was the furthest from the truth. He was just a man who was hurt, a man who was robbed of his family and the love of his live and while that had happened to many people, each person took things differently.

Derek brooded, he pushed people away and hid his ability to care for others behind threats and a snarl. He didn't smile often, he didn't feel there was a reason too as he'd lost everything that was the reason behind happiness and he didn't want to make that mistake again.

No one understood Hale's, they labeled them as weird and dangerous, and while that's partially due to their werewolf abilities they were just people who were hurting.

Nearly ten years had passed since the murders of Andrea Miller and Peter still felt the open wound as if it was fresh.

There he stood over the balcony of the loft Derek owned, a picture in his hand while his icy blue eyes stared at it like it would somehow change and she would materialize out of thin air.

"What's up with him?" Stiles nodded his head in the direction of the man, his question aimed at Derek who was sifting through an abundance of books and papers.

He didn't even have to look to know what the teenager meant, but it took him a moment to answer him. "Someone died and he's mourning."

Stiles' eyes widened considerably, his feet skittering across the floor as he willed his body to sit up in attention, completely bypassing the hostility pushing its way through Derek's voice. "Andrea? Andrea Miller?"

The beta males brows furrowed, his thin lips opening in shock. "He told you about her?" His brain unwillingly pushed memories of the older girl who he'd befriended in his high school years. It was haunting how clearly he was able to hear her laugh and quick remarks, but she shook those away with the blink of his eye.

"Not exactly," The sheriff's son stammered for words, face contorting oddly while he racked his brain for a plausible coverup to explain how he knew what he knew. "An inside source—I can't say who obviously told me a thing or two about the color of Peter's eyes and she just so happened to play a pretty big piece in it."

"Cora told you." Derek deadpanned, flipping through the pages of an old book he had recovered before the city took over the old Hale house. "You're not a good liar, I wouldn't have believed you anyways. No one else besides my family and one other knows about her and what happened."

Stiles went quiet for a moment, clearly realizing the intensity of the topic, his whiskey colored irises locking its sights on Peter, his broad shoulders quivering slightly as his hand was gripped around a photo. "Is he crying?"

"Contrary to popular belief, he isn't emotionless."

"Psychopaths and sociopaths are considered emotionless and given his track history, he definitely categorizes as one or both if possible."

Derek's green eyes glared at the teenager with such an intensity that Stiles had shutting his mouth and attempting not to speak again. "He wasn't always like that, she brought out the best in him and when she passed he was in the coma and it took a toll on him."

"You sound like your defending him, a murderer need I remind you."

"I'm not justifying his actions, I'm just saying, I understand where he's coming from."

The sliding glass door opened, the oldest Hale walking through without so much as looking their way. His eyes were red rimmed, the picture still nestled protectively in his hands. "Peter—"

"Not today," The man croaked out to the sarcastic teenager who he usually didn't mind bantering with. "Please, just not today."

Stiles went silent, the apology he was fixing to offer going back to where it came from and he didn't speak again until Peter was out of sights. "I didn't know it was that serious."

"You wouldn't," Derek grunts back, he too reminded of his past regrets. "Andy meant a lot to us—to him. We weren't there for her when she needed us, but the whole time her intentions were to keep us safe. He takes it harder because he was with her the night she died and he was supposed to go back to her and he didn't get a chance to."

"My dad found her," Stiles confessed, having asking his father about the old murder. "She was the first case he'd ever been on. He said that when he got to her she wasn't dead yet, like she was holding on. They tried to save her at the hospital but she died before she got there."

Derek stopped what he was doing, his palms rested on the wooden table, head hung. "No one ever told us, we assumed she died there."

"They told her family."

"Kyle," He remembered him, Andrea's protective older brother. "He disappeared after she died, we have no idea where he went."

Stiles tested his luck, prodding at the wound that was already opened, trying to let just a little harder to solve the puzzle his brain was working together. "Does she have a grave?"

"If she does it's not in the Beacon Hills cemetery. It could be anywhere."

"That's weird, where else would they put her body? Every dead body has to be legally documented in its burial ground so it isn't mistaken for a murder."

Derek straightened up, calculating green eyes zoning out in the distance he took a moment to think. "That damn car shop, it was passed down throughout her family. It'd only make sense he bury her there, the building is signed in her name."

"The car shop? Miller Motors? That's the only place that can fix the Jeep properly."

"Just get a new car."

"Give me new car money," Stiles quipped back, he knew full well his baby blue Jeep was dying, she was barely hanging in by a thread but he loved that car with all he had and here was no way he was getting rid of it.

Derek pulled his attention away from the books below him, the teens words sifting around in his mind. "Do you really think she'd still be there?"

"Want to find out?"

The duo went to the door, their intentions to sneak into the motor shop and find Derek's best friend, but before he could even step out the door another face was there to greet him.

He was much older now, forrest green eyes faded and seemed more lifeless, cold even. "Kyle."

"Where the hell is my sister?"

~~~~~

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