s p a r k

James was only sixteen and already felt like he should be getting grey hair with how stressed he was getting lately. With it only being him and his sister living in a run down apartment building. It didn’t help that said run down apartment building was currently being attacked by thugs wanting to, what he could only assume, was to rob the place. He thought he had it in the bag, not needing to flash his glowing eyes or anything, until one of the intruders flashed his own. He barely got a growl out before he was thrown to the ground. And not before long did he feel a pinch in his arm before being knocked out, everything going black.

Melissa McCall thought she has seen it all. With a werewolf son with werewolf friends, there wasn’t anything much that could shock her. That is until a young boy was being wheeled in, that couldn’t be more than sixteen years old, blood on his face. On instinct she followed them into the room, discreetly picking up the chart and reading through it. What stuck out to her wasn’t his age or why he was there, but his name. His last name. One she never thought she’d see attached to someone else. Swiftly she placed the chart down, heading out and towards the phone, dialing quickly.

“You need to get down to the hospital. Now. Peter, I think your son was just brought in.”

Peter wasn’t entirely sure how he’d gotten to the hospital. Supporting Chris through his grief over Allison had been a full-time job thus far, the man in bed and asleep with Silver curled close to his chest when Peter had gotten the call. He remembered telling Melissa okay, then just- running. He’d made it here on foot? It seemed like no time had passed at all.

James. His James. How could he be alive? Well, Nora, Cora, and Laura all being alive had proven that anything was possible but.. God, his babies. His innocent children. If James was alive, did that mean Ayla and Rosalie were as well? He couldn’t get his hopes up too much. Not in the off chance that this wasn’t even actually his son. It could be a coincidence, purely a coincidence. James was a common name.. Hale was to an extent. But, the fact that it was Melissa notifying him of this had hope rising in his throat, too fresh and raw a feeling to let himself fully embrace it.

Chris’ head shot up when he heard a noise, jumping out of the seat. “Are you insane?!” he exclaimed; not exactly the first words he wanted to say. He was hoping The moment would be more of a happy one, attuned to when he met his daughter for the first time, both of them. Instead he felt like ripping the mans arm off to get him to stop pulling at the breathing tube.

Times like these he wished Melissa didn’t take his gun when he came into the hospital; he knew it was because he was on edge and any slight move would be cause for him to pull it out. But right now he wanted to shoot Peter to get him to stop. Violent yes, but he knew the man would heal quickly. With one hand struggling with his he reached over head, knowing Melissa would see the notice and be the one to come. “Good to know your alpha qualities didn’t get burned away.” He muttered, giving up the struggle and pulling away from him.

Once the breathing tube was free from him, despite Chris’ struggle and protest, Peter took a shaky, deep breath and managed to turn his head towards him a bit more. “You know the answer to that question, darling.” He croaked, throat dry and sore from the tube. Though it had been necessary at the time, he couldn’t help but be annoyed by any sort of medical equipment being used on him. It took him back to an incredibly dark place, a maniacal one that he’d promised he’d never go to again.

Chris was starting to hate hospitals. Nothing good seemed come out of them lately and quite frankly, he wanted nothing to do with them. He tried to steer clear of them as best he could but with situations like this, it was hard to do.

When the memories of their past had come flooding back it had taken Chris time to process it all. At first he hated the alpha with all he had in him, wanting him dead; only to find that those feelings were of the opposite attraction. It was a revelation that not only he, but everyone else around him, had to grow accustom to. Somehow, someway, it worked out 

Though it may be true, there were times Chris wanted to go back to his old ways and beat the other man; times where Peter seemed to retreating back to his psychotic wolfie ways. But that didn’t mean he wanted him dead. He didn’t want him nearly burned to crisp, resulting in Peter laying in a hospital bed barely holding on while  he himself could barely hold himself together. With Allison watching after Silver and Melissa running in and out of the room, all Chris could do was sit there. 

And pray Peter would open his stupid eyes once more. 

It was times like this that Peter sorely missed having alpha powers, namely the healing. It seemed the general populous had quite the fetish for wanting him on the crispier side of cooked, something that caused the werewolf to even avoid fucking tanning beds. But, as fate had had it, even driving a car down the goddamn road seemed to label him a target for getting roasted alive. He wasn’t dead, though. Plus, Chris and Silver thankfully hadn’t been in the car. There were small victories he supposed. 

He’d been drifting slightly in and out of consciousness for a while now, the first time having been when he felt Derek leeching his pain away. Even though Melissa was keeping him on a high (werewolf level) dose of morphine, it was pure agony just laying there as his body slowly healed itself. 

He knew he looked like a damn mummy, all wrapped up in gauze which he knew was multi-purposed to keep his supposedly delicate skin infection free, and to keep the regular doctors and nurses from seeing his accelerated healing.

Every time Chris entered the room, he tried to make his body cooperate. All he wanted to do was reassure the man who absolutely reeked of worry that he’d be fine. Though the comparison was vile, Peter couldn’t disagree when people likened him to a cockroach. He was pretty damn hard to kill.