I didn't know if Peter was telling the truth about not meaning to kill Laura, but I didn't have a choice but to listen to him right now. He could easily kill me if he tried  . . .

We were in the locker room, the boys' locker room at Scott's school, my first time being there.

Now, technically, Derek and I were apart of Peter's pack. All he wanted was Scott too, to be powerful. When there was a new Alpha, certain people took notice. "Danny?" Scott called, thinking we were Stiles' friend from earlier today, the one who had helped us trace the text to the hospital.

A ball rolled into his view, and he came closer. It took him a few seconds until he saw me and Derek, and he gasped. "Thank God," he said. "Where the hell have you guys been? Do you have any idea of what's been going on?"

I looked away from him and to Peter as he came into view, a lacrosse net in his hands. "I don't really get lacrosse."

"It was you," Scott whispered.

"When I was in high school, we played basketball. There's a real sport. Still, I read somewhere that lacrosse comes from Native American tribes and that they played it to resolve conflict." He swung up his stick to his shoulder. "I have that right? Hm. I have a little conflict of my own to resolve, Scott. But I need your help to do it."

"I'm not helping you kill people."

"Well, I don't want to kill all of them. Just the responsible ones. And that doesn't have to include--" Peter cut himself off, forgetting her name and looking to us.

"Allison," I answered after a second.

Scott turned to us with surprise. "You're on his side? Are you forgetting the part where he killed your sister?"

"It was a mistake," Derek said.

"What?" Scott demanded.

"It happens."

"Scott--I think you're getting the wrong impression of us," Peter said. "We really just want to help you reach your full potential."

"By killing my friends," Scott said.

"Sometimes the people closest to you--can be the ones holding you back the most."

"If they're holding me back from becoming a psychotic nut job like you, I'm okay with that."

Peter started to step forward, raising his arm. "Maybe--you could try and see things--" The nails on his fingers started to grow into claws. "From my perspective."

He lashed out with his hand, cutting him in the back of the neck, and I knew that he was giving Scott memories.

Scott gasped for air as he sank to the floor, and Peter walked away, but Derek and I hesitated as we watched Scott.

Derek followed Peter first, and the I slowly looked away from Scott and followed after them.

I didn't want it to be like this, but until I could find something different, I was stuck with it.

Peter was taking things a little too far with Scott's mother, but Derek was bringing Jackson Whittemore to the house so that we could kill him. Of course, I hadn't ever liked killing anybody, I had been forced to do it once, but . . . . . I didn't like it. And, from the Derek that I remembered, he hadn't liked to, either.

"This is it?" I heard outside. "This is the place?"

"Go ahead," Derek told him.

There was a hesitation before Jackson said, "Is it safe? I don't want rafters falling on my head."

That was the least of his concerns. "Go in," Derek said.

They sure took their nice, sweet time coming inside. They were still outside when Jackson asked, "What's in here?"

"Everything you want." Finally, I heard the door start to gently swing open. "It's gonna be all right," Derek lied. "Trust me."

Jackson saw me the instant he came in, and he was edgy, looking around. "This house--it's the same h--house."

"What'd you say?" I asked.

"I've dreamt about this place," he answered. "I--I remember the staircase. I remember these--these walls. I remember--everything."

"You've been here?"

Jackson turned to face me. "No, never. I dreamt it." He tilted his head when he realized the truth. "There's no one else here," Derek and I shook our heads, "and no one else is coming?" Derek shook his head, letting his claws grow. "No, please--" he fell back into the stairs "please don't, okay? I'll shut up, I'll never say another word again. I'll leave Scott alone. Please, you can't do this! Please! I--I don't deserve it."

"I think you do," I said.

"N--no!"

"Look around you!" Derek yelled. "Wouldn't there be someone here trying to save you? There's no one here. There is a reason. No one cares that you drive an expensive car. No one cares that you have perfect hair, and no one cares that you're captain of the lacrosse team."

"Excuse me," Scott's voice said from the top of the stairs. "Co-captain."

Using the stunt I had pulled when Scott and Derek had fought in here the first time, Scott brought his knees to his chest, jumping down every single stair and landing in front of me and Derek.

When he looked up, all of us were turned. Derek was growling at him while I growled, "Move."

"No."

"Fine," Derek said. "We'll kill you too."

Arrows were being shot, the noise familiar. "Cover your eyes!" I yelled.

I ducked and moved behind something for cover when the gunshots were being aimed and shot. Scott was being shot, falling to the ground. "Scott!" I yelled, my voice muffled. "Go!"

He could barely even move and Derek ran to his side, pushing him toward the back to get out of here. "Run!" He turned to me. "Get out of here!"

I didn't know what to do, looking between him, Scott and the door, and then I was running out of the house, a different way than Derek or Scott had ran.

I hadn't expected how surrounded the house was, and a gun bullet shot into my stomach, and before I could run, I was being trapped by lighting arrows, and I hadn't been fast enough to cover my eyes this time.

I couldn't see what had knocked me out.