Chapter Text
John had never much liked the Preserve. Oh, he'd gone there with Claudia when they were younger, had taken her and Stiles there for picnics, and he even admired the beauty of the place. But something about it always left him... unsettled. The creaking of branches in the wind was too much like whispering, while the rustling leaves too often mocked the world with barely-there laughter. While the streams winding through the wood were pretty, it was too easy to imagine strange things lurking in the water, things with hungry eyes and quick fingers, things that would be all too happy to grab hold of the unsuspecting and drown them. The press of unseen eyes laid heavy on his soul whenever he crossed the border, and something in his heart always shivered as he left the more civilized world of Beacon County behind.
Good Lord, he was a fool for not immediately believing his son when Stiles tried to tell him about the supernatural.
Now that he believed in all the things that went 'bump' in the night, John hated the place even more. It took everything in him not to declare the Preserve completely off-limits. Surely the Sheriff could find a good excuse... but it wouldn't hold water for long. People would go poking and prying which would quickly unravel any tale he told. Worse, the lure of the forbidden would draw even more people into the dark of the wild wood. More people would delve into the world where his badge meant nothing, where he couldn't truly protect them. More families would be left desperate for answers he couldn't - wouldn't - give them. Disappearances and deaths would rise, and John would have nothing to offer but empty words.
Any call to the Preserve was always going to be a bad one. John only hoped this latest breach of the trees wouldn't end with someone new vanished into thin air. Fuck, if they didn't stop soon the FBI was going to get involved. John didn't see that ending well for anyone.
The old Hale House had seen more tragedy than any home should. At least it was easy to find - sometimes it felt like everyone in the whole damn town knew just where it was. Calls to the Preserve almost always came with directions using the place as a landmark. Whatever Stiles and the others believed about some magical tree, the Hale House felt more like a beacon for anything and everyone with ill intent. No wonder Derek and Cora kept running as far away from it as they could, and he didn't blame Peter for never stopping by to remember those who had passed on there. John didn't like going himself, but the young woman who had called the Sheriff's Department had said that she was waiting there in that clearing.
Even if he hated it, John tried to go on every call to the Preserve - alone, if he could manage it. It was easier to cover up any supernatural happenings that way, and if he was there from the start the kids couldn't keep him out of the loop. When the ruins of the Hale House came into view, he took one of the deep breaths Stiles' old therapist had recommended. He was supposed to do a whole set, but he didn't want to be relaxed, not here. It was better to hold his shoulders strong and straight, and carrying a ball of tension in his chest might save his life. A single deep breath was enough to clear his head, which was all he was after.
Or it was, until he got closer to the porch. Hunched over on the stairs, left arm cradled against her chest, was the young woman who had called for help. Her hair was in disarray, full of leaves and other forest debris. Some of it was matted - in the dim light it was hard to tell if it was with blood or mud. The way it fell obscured her face, but he could tell that she was young. Too young to be out alone in the woods this late at night. In the circumstances, however, maybe it would be better if she had been alone right from the start. That would eliminate the possibility of a new missing person.
Soft gasps sounded in the air, and her shoulders trembled with each one. She sounded like Stiles when he was trying to hold back tears, when he was trying to hide just how hurt he was. The poor girl was trying to keep it together, but all the little things added up pointed to true distress. This wasn't some drunk teenager who needed a ride back into town or a prank gone wrong. Something had happened that had left her curling into herself to protect her arm, and that probably was blood in her hair.
She didn't need any surprises even if he meant her no harm. If she was in shock she might not have registered the sound of his car pulling up; John did his best to make sure his footsteps made a sound. The way she flinched a little at first made him slow down. There was no need to scare her, so he stopped a few feet away. Once he got her attention and saw the damage he could decide whether or not to radio in for an ambulance.
"Hey there. Easy, easy." The way she had almost thrown herself backwards at his voice wasn't a good sign. She still wasn't looking at him either. Shock was looking more and more likely. "I'm not here to hurt you. You called for help, remember?" The last thing he wanted was to look threatening; when he crouched down he was lower than she was. Not looming might help her feel safer, and her breathing did seem to calm down a little. "So that's what I'm here for - to help you. I'm from the sheriff's department. I'm the sheriff actually, so you--"
"M-mr. Stilinski?" The girl lifted her head and Kira Yukimura stared at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. His sharp inhale was gunshot-loud in the suddenly silent clearing, and his heart skipped a beat before it began to pound in his ears. Kira - sweet, energetic Kira - looked even younger than usual with a face streaked with tears, blood and dirt. He stood and went to her side as fast as his feet would take him there. She sniffled, then clapped her right hand over her mouth like she could physically stop herself from sobbing. Her left arm she kept as still as she could, which was concerning.
It took second place, however, to the gash still sluggishly bleeding on her forehead. It ran from her left temple and over her left eye in a diagonal slash, one that looked like it was slowly healing right before his eyes. Not as fast as it should be based off the way Scott healed, but it was something. John put careful fingers under her chin to get a better angle, but it was no use. It was too damn dark, leaving him guessing about how bad it actually was. The wound could probably do with some cleaning, super-healing or not, and he needed to get a look her arm too.
"You look like hell, kiddo." A more pronounced tremble had her fingers knocking against her upper lip, so he took hold of them as gently as he could and gave them a soft squeeze. Kira immediately squeezed back, only she did it so hard that his fingers went a little numb. Kitsune strength was no joke, but he was careful to hide his wince. A little loss of blood circulation was worth it if it helped her feel safe. "I've got you now, okay? I don't know what happened, but I'm here now. You're safe and we'll get you taken care of. Is the arm broken?"
"It... it was, I think. Maybe not anymore." Kira took her lower lip between her teeth, worrying it for a long moment before sniffling again. "I'm sorry to bother you. I didn't want to bother you. But my arm hurts and for a while I wasn't walking so good and I think I threw up on the edge of the property but I can't really remember, and my parents are out of town for a conference in New York and it was only supposed to be an Omega, but I think maybe it wasn't and Scott didn't answer his phone and I didn't..."
John let her talk herself out until she needed to stop for air. As a technique it received mixed results, but sometimes it was the only way to get a word in edgewise with Stiles. When she petered out he squeezed her fingers again, drawing her eyes back to his; it took her a second to focus, which meant he should take her to Melissa if not the hospital. "Breathe. We'll unpack everything you just said once we get you out of here. Do you think you can make it to the car?"
"Probably?"
"Good enough for me. Up we go."
Getting Kira to her feet wasn't too hard - she was tiny even though she packed a punch - but keeping her steady was a different story. It was made harder by the way she refused to let go of his hand, but he wasn't about to make that an issue. He'd hold hands with her all the way back to town if he needed to, if it made her feel even a little better. She did end up letting go in order to get into the cruiser, but once he was in the driver's seat and had the car started she grabbed for his hand again.
The lighting in the car wasn't the best, but it threw her condition into sharp relief. Her left arm was still cradled against her torso - she had to twist towards him in order to reach his hand. There were rips in her clothes that had very clearly been made by claws. It was a small mercy that the wounds had been shallow enough to heal quickly. Her head wound worried him, and if she weren't a kitsune he would be speeding toward the hospital with his sirens on.
She probably wouldn't even want to go see Melissa. Fuck.
"I'm fine," she said as if reading his thoughts. Maybe that was a kitsune thing. He'd ask Peter later. "I mean, everything still hurts and feeling the bone in my arm set itself like this is really gross but it probably won't last much longer, and my head only hurts... well, still a lot. Like an eight or nine on a pain scale probably? But it's fine. I can mostly walk and stuff, and it's healing. So you can just take me home and I'll go to bed--"
"You said your parents are out of town."
"Yeah? Only until Sunday though."
"That's four more days, Kira, and you've got a head wound. I'm not just dropping you off at your house and driving away." The hand in his spasmed, then held on even tighter. He clenched his jaw and battled back the fury he felt building inside of him. These kids... every one of them was ass-deep in the supernatural, and they expected all the adults in their lives to just walk away. They constantly threw themselves into danger, fought and killed and died, and they did it on their own. They did it in silence whenever they could manage it because they thought they had to. It was like pulling teeth to get them to ask an adult for help, even those adults who were in the know. They gave their blood and their innocence to keep themselves and other people safe, and they didn't think anyone would help them.
So far he hadn't been good at proving them wrong. That stopped now.
"Answer me straight kiddo - do you need to go to the hospital?"
"No? I'm not trying to lie," she added quickly. "It's just that I'm healing and I probably shouldn't let anyone see that but hospitals also have the good drugs. That would be nice because everything hurts and I don’t much like pain, but it is starting to go away. Slowly. Real slow. So maybe I'd like some pain meds but I don't need to go."
John smothered a laugh, his anger fading away in the face of Kira's rambling. "We'll mark it as a 'no' then. How about Melissa? She doesn't have any of the good drugs, but she could make sure your arm is setting the right way and clean out that gash."
"I have stuff to clean it out at home, and I'm pretty sure it's setting right."
"... I'd feel better if we saw Melissa."
"No! I'm fine, really, and she's with Scott and maybe Scott's dad? Because Scott wasn't sure if his dad was coming or not, but they're doing something that I'm not really clear on, which is why he didn't come on patrol with me and since he didn't answer his phone he's probably still doing the family thing which Melissa is a part of."
"And you don't want to see him?"
"I don't want him to feel guilty."
John twisted his mouth to keep his opinion on that from spilling out. It wasn't worth the fight to get her to agree, not with her still clinging to him. Not when they had everything they would need to clean her up at his house. Hell, Stiles would probably be able to go online and make sure her arm was setting right, and Peter would probably take her pain. So even if having Melissa take a look would soothe his nerves, maybe it really wasn't what she needed just then.
"I'm gonna call this in, tell dispatch it was a false alarm - probably just some drunk kid making prank calls. Nobody'll look into that too closely. Then I'm taking you home - mine, I mean - so you can get patched up and tell Stiles and Peter what happened. Tomorrow I'll take you to your home." Her hand went slack, and from the corner of his eye he saw her chewing on her lower lip again. "You're gonna pack up what you need and then you're going to come stay with us until your parents get back. Sound good?"
She was staring at him, and when he glanced her way her mouth was hanging open just a little. "You... you'd let me do that? Stay with you I mean? Because I'd be fine, I mean I'm old enough to stay by myself for a couple days and I know that your house is pretty crowded with Chris living there and Peter living there too even if he doesn't know it. So I'd be fine."
"We'll figure something out. We can get Peter to buy a bed for the living room if we need to. I wouldn't mind bunking down there for a few days and neither would Chris." Or Chris could just stay in his room... but maybe it was too soon for that. "So if you want to stay with us--"
"Yes! Please. If you really don't mind."
"I really don't."
"And if no one else will mind."
"They won't."
"Really? I don't want to be a burden or impose."
John wasn't sure how Scott and the rest defined pack, only knew they didn't give the word or the bonds the same weight that Peter, Stiles and Chris did. He didn't know if Kira even needed or wanted a pack, because he didn't know shit about how a kitsune was different from a werewolf. What he did know was that being part of one had changed everything for him, and changed it for the better. For him pack was seeing the light come back to Stiles' eyes while Peter watched over him protectively. It was coffee in the morning with Peter and Chris, watching the two of them fight like cats and dogs; it was knowing that they would protect each other despite that if need be. Pack was a casual, easy hand on his shoulder or the back of his neck and being able to give the same just as easily. It was arguing over how often Peter slipped him foods Stiles had forbidden, waking up to find Chris had done his laundry so he wouldn't have to wear a dirty uniform to work, and it was Stiles doing ridiculous amounts of research on safe sex to encourage him to start a relationship. He was only human so he couldn't feel the bond Peter talked about, but that didn't matter. John would still give everything to keep his people safe, and he knew without question that they would do the same for him.
The scared, wounded teenager next to him could use a pack that meant what Peter and Stiles had taught him it did. And what the hell, they didn't have an Alpha he needed to talk to first before he gave it to her.
"You're not a burden. You're pack."
~.~.~
"Kira? We're here."
"Mmm?" The weight of sleep was hard to throw off, especially with the way her head ached and her pulse pounded painfully in her left arm. Sleep was way better than either of those things. If she just ignored whoever was gently trying to nudge her into awareness he would have to quit at some point.
"Come on kiddo - don't make me regret not taking you to Melissa. I need you to wake up and stay that way for a little while."
"Mr. Stilinski?" They were in a car, but the 'why' of it escaped her. Thinking didn't work so good when there was something gnawing on her brain. Every thud of her heart caused another round of knives and teeth digging through her skull. If Mr. Stilinski thought she was opening her eyes on top of that he was very, very mistaken. All she wanted was to sleep for a year or at least long enough for all the pain to go away.
And maybe until the feeling came back to the fingers on her right hand too. It was hard to tell where exactly they were, and it wasn't until an attempt to move them that she discovered she was clutching somebody else's hand.
"Kira." Mr. Stilinski's voice had gone stern, and it was reflex to open her eyes. It took a second for his face to come in to focus, which was kind of a problem because of how badly her head hurt. If she had taken a hit-- oh. Mr. Stilinski's concerned face melted into something closer to a smile. "There we go. Things coming back to you now?"
"Yeah." A glance down at her fingers showed that, sure enough, she was still holding hands with him. If hers were numb his must be way worse off, but he still twitched them in an attempted squeeze she couldn't quite feel. "Are we at your house now?"
"Yup. Can I have my hand back for just a few minutes? I want to get you inside so Chris and the others can take care of you."
"They don't have to--"
Now Mr. Stilinski was scowling, so she stopped herself. The words were piling up in her throat though, begging to be let out. Chewing on her lower lip was a habit that worked to stop that; she didn't expect Mr. Stilinski's expression to immediately go soft. "You still look like hell, kiddo. Chris and Stiles are going to want to help. Peter will too, though he'll probably be losing his shit internally."
That didn't make a lot of sense - it probably wouldn't even if she didn't have the headache from hell. She didn't even really know Mr. Argent, and it was only recently that she had stopped treating Stiles badly. Peter seemed to like her though, so maybe the werewolf would be sort of interested in making sure she was alright.
"So can I get my hand?"
Heat rushed to her face, and she very carefully peeled her fingers away from Mr. Stilinski's one by one. "Sorry."
"Don't worry about it. Now let's get you inside."
Mr. Stilinski was in the process of helping her out of the car when the front door slammed open. Kira flinched back without meaning to, a sharp but brief pain jolting through her arm and head. Mr. Stilinski kept her steady though, and it took only a moment for Peter's features to become clear. His eyes were glowing blue in the dark of the night, and his nostrils were flared; he would be able to smell the blood still in her hair and on her face and clothes. Her lower lip was between her teeth again as she ducked her head and hunched her shoulders to make herself smaller. Peter's expression had been hard, with his jaw clenching and unclenching in the same steady rhythm as his claws popped in and out of his fingers. Even if her nose wasn't as good as Scott's or Malia's, she could still scent the acrid stench of fury rolling off him in waves.
She hadn't meant to bother anyone.
Her shoulders loosened a little when Mr. Stilinski gave the right one a reassuring squeeze. She still kept her eyes down and away from Peter though. Him being angry at her was totally more than she could process right now. Kira didn't know if he was mad that she had interrupted whatever he had been doing or upset that she had lost the fight she had been in. Either way, there was a pit in her stomach that probably wasn't going to go away any time soon. She hated upsetting or bothering other people.
Peter's feet came into view long before they got to the Stilinski's front porch - the fact that they were bare was oddly fascinating even though everything still hurt. Putting her attention on his toes was also a good way to keep from looking up into his face, something she was going to avoid as long as possible. Peter was probably going to yell at her or lecture her, because as much as he indulged Stiles there had to be a reason why Scott hated him so much.
Warm fingers framed the cut on her forehead, and she nearly collapsed to the ground when everything stopped hurting all at once. Mr. Stilinski wasn't the one who caught her either. She pitched forward and landed against a firm chest that smelled like Peter without that awful cloud of anger that had been there earlier. Kira chose not to think about that too hard, because now her head was spinning instead of trying to split itself open.
"You're even better than the good drugs," she said into the muscles that made a surprisingly good pillow. It took a bit of effort to crack one eye open, but she was glad she had managed it. Peter's forearms were pretty unmistakable, even with pitch-black lines snaking their way over them. Maybe he wasn't mad at her after all. "So much better. All the better. I mean, I've only had them once and it was a couple years ago, but I'm pretty sure this is better from what I remember. You should advertise. I mean if other people were allowed to know about werewolves. You would be soooo popular with women. They'd all book you for baby delivery and oh my God you'd be amazing during shark week. Ten out of ten, would recommend. Maybe you could just make a craiglist ad and offer yourself up as a snuggle buddy and then people wouldn't know why you make them feel so much better."
"I'll take that under consideration." Peter's voice was almost the same as it usually was - drier than the desert. There was a hint of a growl beneath the words, but she could ignore that. He wasn't growling at her, not when he was taking her pain so thoroughly. Probably. He was confusing sometimes. "I want to know exactly how this happened so I know who to kill."
He sounded downright pleasant, like he was making small talk about the weather. It raised goosebumps on her arms, because murder shouldn't sound so casual. Mr. Stilinski heaved a world-weary sigh behind her before reaching out to pat her on the back. It should have felt awkward, but it was kind of nice to have people be so worried over her. She hadn't wanted to bother anyone, but since she already had she was going to enjoy the coddling while it happened.
"I don't know exactly what happened. I was more concerned with getting her here than getting the story. All I got was that Scott didn't join her on a patrol and that an Omega was responsible." Peter smelled like fury again, but the hand he smoothed over her hair was gentle. "Get her inside and taken care of - I've gotta head back to work to keep anyone from asking questions."
"I'll fill you in on the details in the morning. Be careful out there, Sheriff."
"Thank you Mr. Stilinski." She was still talking into Peter's chest, but Mr. Stilinski patted her on the back again so he probably had heard her anyway. Getting into the house was easy with Stiles' wolf carefully shepherding her to the door. He kept up the pain-drain until she was sitting on the couch with him crouched in front of her. He almost looked regretful as he eased off and she felt the hurt slowly seeping back into her body.
"I can't keep it up for too long," he told her quietly. It felt like he was asking for forgiveness, which was just silly. She'd been the one to lose a fight and get herself so injured that she needed help. "If I were an Alpha I could sustain it longer, but even then I couldn't do indefinitely. Knowing where and how you're hurting will help patch you up in any case."
"That makes sense. Does taking pain like that hurt you? Oh my God, if it does you should stop doing it right now. I mean, everything still hurts but not as much as it did when it first happened, and my headache is definitely down to functioning during a migraine levels. So I'm okay. I wish my arm healing didn't feel so gross though. Hi Mr. Argent."
Peter didn't look over his shoulder to see the new arrival - he was still completely focused on her. He didn't answer her question either, which was fishy. Once she was all healed up she was totally gonna ask him again. Or maybe Stiles would ask for her - the answer would probably be more truthful that way.
Her arm was throbbing and she could feel bone slowly shifting under her skin. Even if her head wasn't pounding it would be hard to distract herself from that. As interesting as Peter's ability to take pain was, it was too close to everything she was doing her best not to think about. Maybe nothing would be enough to take her mind off the pain but she could sure try, and with Mr. Argent now in the room she could use him to do it. He was in his pajamas, which meant her presence was definitely bothering him. There was no way he was happy to be cleaning her cut out when he could be sleeping instead.
"I've told you - it's Chris. That's a nasty looking wound you've got there."
Mr. Argent was barefoot too. It struck her as funny to have both him and Peter fussing over her that way. They were almost always snapping at each other, but there they were with their feet all vulnerable in front of each other because of her. A giggle bubbled up from where the pit in her stomach had been earlier, and she didn't try to stop it. Peter rolled his eyes, but when Mr. Argent carefully took hold of her chin and made her look at him, he looked more concerned than exasperated.
"You don't look hysterical--"
"That's because she isn't," Peter said, tone suggesting that Mr. Argent was a moron. "She is, however, bleeding. So if you could perhaps do something about that it would be greatly appreciated. If you would prefer to make observations that help no one then go away and let me take care of it."
"Dude, I know you're freaking out but take the hostility down a notch or two." Even if Peter growled half-heartedly at Stiles in response, relief washed over. Being in the middle of one of Peter and Mr. Argent's spats was never comfortable. She might burst into tears if they really got going with her between them. Stiles would keep them both from getting too bad, and if she could have jumped up and given him a hug she definitely would have. "I found some gloves for you Chris, and I sterilized the tweezers just in case. Looks like it was the right thing to do, because that looks like a mess."
Stiles was frowning by the time he got to the couch, though he still briefly rested one hand on the back of Peter's neck while he passed the gloves and tweezers to Chris. The werewolf's shoulders noticeably relaxed, and his eyes finally went back to a clear, non-supernatural blue. Scott would hate it if he knew how close Stiles and Peter were, and sometimes it made her a little nervous too. Everything Lydia and Scott had told her about Peter was a little horrifying, after all. But when she saw them together, saw how Peter grounded Stiles while Stiles smoothed some of Peter's sharper edges, she didn't worry so much.
She felt chilly fingers lightly wrap around her wrist, calling her back to the moment and - unfortunately - the continued ache. "What happened, foxy lady?" Stiles' eyes were tight with worry, mouth a thin line as he looked her over. "And why are you healing so slow? Was it an Alpha? Please tell me it wasn't an Alpha - we cannot handle a rogue Alpha right now." His gaze slid to Peter, whose expression was blank; Kira wasn't fooled. Peter had already said he would kill whoever had hurt her, and if it had been an Alpha that would have been bad. Really really bad. Scott wouldn't handle Peter being an Alpha well, and she didn't know if Peter himself would handle it much better Not with the stories she had heard.
"It was an Omega. I think?" Chris made an inquisitive sound in his throat while tipping her head back. Cold water hit the still-open wound, and her arm throbbed again when she tried to flinch away from it. "Well, we think. Scott said that's what it was."
"Wait. Wait wait wait. There's an Omega? Scott knew there was an-- unbelievable. Un-be-fucking-lievable. He didn't say anything about... if he wasn't a werewolf and my hand wouldn't break on impact I would punch him, swear to God. Not important right now though - more interested in the lack of healing." The hurt in Stiles' expression caused a sinking feeling in her chest. She should have told him, even if Scott had asked them all to leave Stiles out of it. Scott wanted Stiles as far away from the supernatural as possible, to protect him, and Kira had followed along blindly. Now Stiles was sad and hurt, resignation coloring his scent, and she just wanted to hug him and apologize forever. "Come on zombie-wolf, we both know you're a walking supernatural encyclopedia - out with it."
As careful as Chris was being, it still wasn't pleasant to have him pulling out bits of dirt, tiny pebbles and leaf debris out of the cut. She did her best not to shrink away or whimper or anything, but she really wasn't a fan of pain no matter how good she was at pushing through it in the heat of the moment. The aftermath of fights always sucked. Peter's enhanced senses must have picked up on her discomfort, because as he pondered over Stiles' question he brushed Stiles' hand away from hers and took it himself to begin drawing her pain again.
"Kitsune aren't werewolves."
"So informative. So helpful."
"Chris, come on dude."
Peter didn't deign to acknowledge Chris' interruption with more than a dismissive sniff. "Most - if not all - of their power comes from their tails. Kira is new to her heritage, and half human on top of that. Her body can handle diseases and small injuries with ease, but the worse a wound is the more energy it takes to heal. Even for werewolves," he added, which made Stiles close his mouth before asking the question. "Our bodies will do it so long as the wound isn't fatal, but you've seen how much we all eat afterwards. I'm not one hundred percent certain - kitsune lore is disappointingly vague and hard to find - but for someone in Kira's position, someone half-human..." Peter paused and gave Kira's hand a squeeze when Chris pulled out a bit of dirt that had been pressed deep into the wound. "Your kitsune side may not be entirely on this plane."
"... sounds made up, but sure. What does that have to do with her healing?"
"For a werewolf - especially a born werewolf - our two sides are essentially one. The balance between instinct and intellect can sometimes be difficult, but there is very rarely a true conflict between the human and wolf. Scott is the exception that proves the rule, of course. Even as a... True Alpha he has rejected many parts of what being a werewolf means." It was soothing to listen to Peter while Chris worked. It was sort of like hearing her dad talking about history - maybe Peter should be a teacher when he wasn't busy being a werewolf. "For a kitsune with human heritage, things are different. From what I've been able to find, the human and fox are very nearly separate beings, at least in their younger years. It might be because they are born with human forms - in much of the lore, kitsune aren't able, or allowed depending on the source, to take a human form until they reach their first century of life. So Kira's fox half may be happily frolicking in an entirely different plane where kitsune spirits live."
"Considering how hard the lore is to find, you seem to know a lot of it," Chris said while setting the tweezers aside. "How much of this is conjecture? I'm going to use a saline solution for one last rinse before I put the gauze on," he added to Kira. "Then I'll take a look at your arm."
"Thanks Mr. Argent.
"It's Chris."
"To answer your question, Christopher," Peter interjected, annoyed as usual at his foe. "There is a certain amount of guesswork, of course, but there always is. At least I don't entirely fabricate vicious lies and slander for the purpose of brainwashing young minds. The Argent Bestiary is full of both, so I think perhaps any guesswork I make is better than anything you could offer. To get to the point of the lecture, Kira's kitsune half seems to most strongly manifest when she's in danger. The wounds given to her by the Omega aren't even close to fatal, so why expend the energy it would take to heal her as quickly as, say, myself or Scott would? It's still accelerated, and as the one experiencing the true discomfort is Kira's human half... I suspect the fox part of her has better things to pay attention to."
They were all quiet as they soaked in that theory, and then Kira wrinkled her nose. "I wish my fox-self was here so I could flip it off." Stiles started to laugh and Mr. Argent chuckled a little as he smoothed the dressing over her wound. "No really. It's not fair. I was promised super-strength, super-senses and super-healing. I want a refund. I was clearly cheated."
"Kitsune are tricksters by nature," Peter reminded her, eyes dancing with their own kind of mischief. "You were lucky to get two out of the three. Now." Kira would never get used to the way Peter's expression could change so quickly. One second he was open and friendly, with a smile tugging at his lips and his eyes lit with good humor. The next instant he would be cold and sharp as the blade of her katana, with not a hint of kindness left in him. If it bothered her she couldn't imagine how Scott and the others felt about it.
Stiles seemed to take it in stride though. He even looked approving as he glanced down at his wolf.
"Get the story, zombie-wolf. I'm gonna go get Kira something to wear to sleep in. And some water - you should definitely drink some water. Shit, I should have gotten you some right away. Fighting and bleeding tends to lead to dehydration even if you don't feel it yet. And maybe you should have a snack? Fighting is an energy-suck too, and you're probably gonna crash soon, now that you're safe and bandaged up and everything. Okay - pajamas, water and a snack. You can tell me more about who we're killing when I get back."
Peter's smile was every bit as vicious as the one Stiles shot him before leaving the room to fulfill his mission. They really would kill the Omega who had attacked her, and they'd probably do it with glee. Kira bit her lower lip, torn between protesting and feeling relieved. On the one hand, murder was a bad. Scott always seemed to manage to get through everything without killing anyone, so she should probably encourage Peter and Stiles to follow that model.
On the other hand, the Omega had nearly managed to kill her, and she had her kitsune heritage on her side. If a human ever crossed her path... Kira shivered at the vivid picture her mind supplied of such an event. Even if they drove the Omega out of Beacon Hills - Scott's plan - it wouldn't really solve the problem. She would just go somewhere else, and if anyone died at her claws wouldn't Scott and their pack be responsible for it?
There was also a part of her, a small part that she was a little afraid of, that was darkly pleased by the idea. Part of her was glad the Omega who attacked her was going to die, and she was glad to know that there were people willing to kill for her.
It was too much to think about, so Kira closed her eyes and sank back into the couch. Mr. Argent carefully made her move her arm, and the pain wasn't as bad as it had been. There were no black veins crawling over Peter's skin, so the fading hurt was all her and her aloof, trickster kitsune half. "A few days ago Scott called us all in for a pack meeting. Not Stiles," she added, voice quiet from the shame of it. "He says... Scott's trying to protect him, keep him away from the supernatural after the Nogitsune. He told us all not to tell Stiles. I shouldn't have... I won't do that again. We've been patrolling in pairs at night since then, and tonight it was me and Scott, but he had something else he had to do--"
Peter snarled and abruptly pulled away, the scent of anger billowing from him like a cloud. Now that she knew he wasn't angry with her, she didn't flinch or shrink away. Kira watched as Peter paced, hands balling into fists before flexing open with his claws out. His eyes were glowing again, and she was a little worried that he was going to storm out of the house and confront Scott right away.
"It was fine! He let me know a few hours ahead of time and asked if I'd still make the rounds. I should have called Malia or Lydia or Stiles, but I thought... it was supposed to be just an Omega. There have been a few others--"
Peter whirled on her, upper lip peeled back in a snarl. "What?"
Kira gulped, nerves coming back full-force. Mr. Argent let go of her arm with a sigh and settled a heavy hand on the back of her neck instead. "Peter - not helping. Calm down or get out."
"You are not my Alpha, Christopher." Despite the scathing retort, Peter did visibly get control of himself, claws and the beginnings of sideburns retreating. "There have been others?"
"Yeah. Only a few. We scared two away and when the third wouldn't leave we knocked him out and Deaton took him somewhere. It was kind of creepy but I didn't want to ask questions. Deaton freaks me out but Scott trusts him, so... anyway. The two we got to leave weren't fighters, and they were more scared than anything. Even the other one wasn't hard to beat. It's because they don't have a pack, right? Omegas are supposed to be weaker. So I should have been able to handle one."
"Just because you can doesn't mean you should. If there's an active threat to the pack you shouldn't be out patrolling on your own. The next time McCall cancels on you, you call Stiles. Or me - you should have my number. Put it in your phone and you call me if McCall abandons you again."
"He didn't abandon--"
"You should have my number too, and John's. I'm guessing you called the Sheriff's Department, right? You're lucky it was John who showed up. You need a way to reach us directly."
They cared. She hardly knew them and they cared, and it had been a really bad night and she was still sore, and she didn't mean to start crying but several tears escaped unbidden. Peter immediately stopped pacing and knelt in front of her again, resting gentle fingers next to the bandage on her forehead. "Does it still hurt? I can--"
"N-no. It's just... it's just that you've all been so nice and I was so scared and I thought..." She didn't want to be crying, hated that she had started trembling and sniffling like a baby. "I almost didn't get my katana out in time and... and... and--" Chris stroked a lock of hair away from her face while Peter growled in a way that felt more protective than anything, hand still poised to draw out the rest of her pain, and Kira closed her eyes against the overwhelming emotions running through her. This was part of the 'crashing' Stiles had mentioned, she knew that, but she was still so happy they cared and so sorry they were going through so much trouble for her. There was also the guilt of not telling Stiles, of lying through omission for the past few weeks when he had been so happy they were friends. And they were going to kill the Omega for hurting her, and Scott would be so mad when he found out, and it would drive another wedge between him and Stiles and it was going to be her fault.
She was sobbing into Peter's shoulder before she knew it, with Chris' hand a solid comfort resting on her back. She didn't deserve how nice they were being, not really. Kira was grateful for it all the same, because they both just let her cry it out. A weight settled on her right, and then Stiles was gently pulling her toward him so she could snuggle into his side. He took over for both Chris and Peter, letting her sob into the crook of his neck while he rubbed her back and made soothing sounds against her uninjured temple. Vaguely, distantly, she knew that Chris and Peter had gotten up and were talking quietly in another part of the room, but that didn't matter as much as the boy who was who was quickly becoming her best friend.
It took a while for her to calm herself, and Stiles never once got impatient with her for it. When she finally did stop, he pressed a tissue into her hand. Stiles stayed quiet as she cleaned herself up a little, and he didn't pull away either. Kira rested her head on his shoulder as her breathing slowly returned to normal, eyes closed and heartbeat steadying.
"I'm sorry. I should have told you."
"Scott should have told me. You may be a kitsune, but you're still part of his pack. He's the Alpha." There was a bitter edge to Stiles' voice that she had never heard before, but it was gone when he spoke again. "So I don't blame you. But in the future? Tell me. You're my Disney sing-a-long buddy and I'll be super pissed if you get yourself killed. Peter only sings when you're here, you know, which is kind of grossly unfair, but whatever. The point is that we're here for you, so call instead of going out into the woods alone at night when you know there's an Omega and we all know that shit has been even weirder than usual in there besides that. Call us."
"I can do that."
"Great! Now drink this juice and then some water," he demanded, taking the tissue from her and putting a glass in her hand instead. It was gross and snotty, but he just took it from her because he knew her other arm was still hurting. It was almost enough to send her into another crying fit. Instead she drank the apple juice obediently. When the first drop hit her tongue she was immediately more thirsty than she had expected. She finished it quickly, then drank the water Stiles passed over next. "Slow down - water makes you sick if you drink it too fast. There's more where that came from, so drink slow. I brought trail mix, so eat some of that too."
"You seem to know exactly what I need," she teased after setting her glass down and exchanging it for a handful of trail mix. "It's almost like you're an expert." Kira smiled at him, but the one she got in return was as sharp as glass. There were shadows in Stiles' eyes - she hated that she had put them there, so she cuddled closer in a silent apology.
"There have been a lot of fights. I figured out what worked eventually."
It hurt, thinking of Stiles all alone and trying to figure out how to take care of himself. He didn't heal like the rest of them did, and from the way he talked it didn't sound like he had anyone offering to take his pain. Not until Peter, anyway, because if Stiles' wolf had reacted that way to her being hurt he would probably go crazy if Stiles was ever injured. He would probably take the pain until it killed him.
"Thank you Stiles."
"No problem, foxy lady. I got you some clean pajamas - my clothes will probably be too big on you, but they'll be comfy. Uh... this part is awkward." Confused, she pulled back enough to look up at him and saw a light flush on his cheeks. "Because you have foxy lady bits and none of the rest of us do, but with your arm and all... I can't tell who would be more embarrassed, you or me or Peter or Chris, but if you need... okay, here's the sitch." Stiles took a breath, firmed his chin, then barreled full steam ahead while refusing to look down at her. "You're a mess and you really probably need a bath or a shower. If you need one of us to help you, we'll figure it out--"
"I'll be fine!" Her voice was a high-pitched squeak even to her own ears, and her cheeks were burning. "If it's a bath... I can manage."
"Are you sure? Your hair..."
"You could help me rinse it out before I get naked. For the bath!" she added quickly, horrified with herself. Her cheeks were getting hotter and hotter, with the warmth spreading to the back of her neck and her ears. "Over a sink or something. Then I could do the rest, you know. Alone. Because--"
"Yeah. You're my platonic soulmate and all, but--"
"Yeah." Silence reigned for a few heartbeats, during which her eyes began to droop a little. "I think we should do that now."
"Eat a little more of the trail mix first, and maybe take a few more sips of water."
"Yes mom."
Stiles blew a raspberry in her direction, and then they both settled into a more comfortable quiet. She managed a few more handfuls of trail mix before she started to yawn. When one of them was so big she felt and heard her jaw pop, Stiles decreed it was time to get her cleaned up. By the time she got to the bathroom, her arm was well enough that she could help him with her hair. Her shirt and jeans ended up sopping wet, but they were a lost cause anyway and she didn't have to show anyone her 'foxy lady bits'. As much as she wanted to take a long bath, Kira knew she would fall asleep and probably drown if she tried. In the morning maybe, before Mr. Stilinski took her to her house.
She lingered just long enough to get clean and for some of the remaining ache to leave her body. Stiles' clothes were a little big but they also smelled reassuringly like him and Peter, and he had been right about them being comfortable too. Unclear about the sleeping situation, she wandered toward Stiles' room to ask him. He would know, and she could just follow his instructions and go to bed - she was exhausted. Before reaching his door, however, she paused on hearing voices.
"You're sure you don't mind? I know you didn't like it when I joked about another werewolf being in my bed."
"She's not another werewolf and she could probably use the comfort. Besides, sleepovers are a teenage right of passage. You can giggle about boys and braid each other's hair."
"As a stereotype that is vaguely sexist, but I'll let it slide. You'll stay in the room?"
"Of course."
"And you won't let me kill anyone?"
"No one who doesn't deserve it." The words had the feeling of ritual, of something sacred and private. Kira felt like she was intruding by hearing them, but she couldn't pull away either. "The Omega does, but we'll worry about that tomorrow. For tonight... I won't let you hurt anyone, sweetheart."
"Peter?"
"I still want you, Stiles. Whatever happens, I will always, always want you. I would still offer you the bite in a heartbeat, and any Alpha would be lucky to have you."
Kira blushed at the amount of feeling Peter put into his words. He sounded almost worshipful, like Stiles was his everything, and she shouldn't be hearing this. It was something just for them, something that she had no business knowing about. For the first time it hit her that Peter loved Stiles. He wasn't just helping someone he saw as pack, and he wasn't just using Stiles the way Scott would think either. Stiles was too young for him, but she had the feeling that Peter would wait forever for Stiles to be ready and that he would take whatever he could get until then. It was sweet, in a weird and slightly creepy way.
It was perfect for both of them.
Quiet had fallen, and once it stretched out long enough Kira felt comfortable approaching Stiles' door. It was open, so maybe they wouldn't mind if anyone heard, but she still felt a bit bad for listening in. She was definitely not going to mention what she had overheard though. "Stiles? I'm about ready to fall asleep standing up," she said after knocking twice on the door frame. Kira pretended she hadn't seen how close they were standing, or the way Peter's mouth had been pressed to Stiles' wrist. Both were part of the ritual that was only theirs, after all. "The couch looked big enough for me to--"
"You are not sleeping on the couch," Peter interrupted, upper lip peeling back in a sneer again. "You need actual rest, not to wake up tired in the morning with an aching back."
"Okay, one - the couch isn't that bad, but two - he has a point Kira. Chris said he would sleep down there if you wanted your own bed, but..." Stiles bit his lower lip, expression turning haunted for just a second. "It was hard, being alone after the Nogitsune. It's not the same, I know, but even when Gerard kidnapped me and worked me over a little - it's in the past Peter, I'm fine, stop growling - I hated that I had to come home alone. So if you want you can bunk with me tonight."
"Oh, I... I couldn't..." Or at least she shouldn't, not after what she had heard. Peter must sleep with Stiles most nights, maybe even every night. Kira didn't want to take that away from either of them. At the same time, the thought of sleeping in a strange bed in a strange house alone after the night she'd had sounded awful. She was torn again, chewing her bottom lip as she weighed her options.
"I for one would feel much better if both of you were in the same place," Peter said in what she almost believed was a casual suggestion. "Think of it as doing me a favor, unless it's not something you're comfortable with."
"Well foxy lady? It's up to you, and don't let Peter guilt you into doing it either."
"You... you really don't mind? Either of you?" Stiles scoffed and rolled his eyes before getting into the bed. Once he'd slipped under the covers, he turned the other side down in a silent invitation. Peter... Peter watched them for a second, then crossed the room to her. He reached up with both hands, not hesitating at all but going slow enough that she could pull away if she wanted to. Being careful of her left temple, he framed her face and then slowly dragged his fingers down her cheeks.. His right hand stayed there while the left curled around the back of her neck. It was intimate without being remotely sexual, and tears pricked her eyes as she recognized the gesture for what it was.
She had seen Scott and Malia scent each other; neither had ever offered the same to her and she had been too afraid to ask. Lydia didn't seem bothered when they didn't do it to her. Maybe they had thought she would be the same, since kitsune weren't, traditionally, part of packs. Kira had wanted it though - she had wanted to feel like she belonged.
Now Peter was offering it without needing to be asked, the same way Mr. Stilinski had earlier with his words. She sniffled and for a second Peter looked mildly alarmed. The expression turned to a smile, however, when she mirrored his actions.
"You're ours, Kira Yukimura," he told her quietly. "You may also be McCall's, but you're ours. So no, we don't mind you staying in here tonight, or the night after, or the one after that if it's what you need. You're pack." From him the word was a vow, almost as sacred as the ritual he had shared with Stiles earlier. They had claimed her, Peter and the Stilinski's and Chris, and that soothed the fear that she was bothering them and making herself a burden. Peter wouldn't have said that unless he meant it.
"Thank you." Peter smiled at her again, then pulled away and gestured to the bed. Stiles was watching them fondly, still waiting for Kira to join him. "We are gonna have the best snuggle ever," she decided aloud.
"Epic snuggling is about to occur," he agreed with a wise little nod. "So get your butt over here, foxy lady. It's time to sleep."
While Kira crawled in next to Stiles, Peter settled himself in a chair next to the window. He really was staying in the room with them, and that made her feel safe and warm. Even if the Omega remembered her scent and tracked her down, Peter wouldn't let her hurt Kira. Not again.
As soon as she was under the covers, Stiles wrapped his arms around her - she had a feeling if he wasn't still worried about her arm, he would have turned into a human octopus. Since it was still tender, they both wriggled and squirmed until they found the perfect snuggling position, with her head tucked under his chin and his hand trailing up and down her spine. She was warm and safe, she was pack, and a wolf with glowing blue eyes was watching over the both of them.
Scott had told her what the color meant, disgust evident in his voice and the twist of his lips. Maybe Kira didn't like where the blue stemmed from, but she figured guilt over a murdering an innocent was better than eyes that stayed golden afterward.
Besides - both wolves she'd known with blue eyes had only ever looked out for her.
As she drifted off to sleep snuggled against Stiles' chest, she had the idle thought that she hoped Derek was okay.