Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/451777.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Peter_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Allison_Argent/
      Scott_McCall
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale, Peter_Hale, Scott_McCall, Jackson
      Whittemore, Allison_Argent, Lydia_Martin, Sheriff_Stilinski, Chris
      Argent, Erica_Reyes, Isaac_Lahey, Boyd_(Teen_Wolf), Danny_Mahealani
  Additional Tags:
      Rape/Non-con_References, Non_Consensual, Kidnapping, Impregnation,
      Mentions_of_Abortion, Canon_Death, Girl!Stiles, Genderswap, Mating,
      Claiming, Knotting, Pack_Dynamics, Possible_Werewolf_Stockholm_Syndrome,
      Being_an_alpha's_mate_is_difficult_to_say_the_least, Eventual_h/c
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-07-05 Updated: 2012-07-07 Chapters: 3/? Words: 7141
****** Fate Up Against Your Will ******
by ohanotherday
Summary
     Peter doesn't appreciate Derek trying to kill Peter and take over the
     pack, and decides to put Derek in his place by raping his chosen
     mate, girl!Stiles. Peter doesn't really know what Derek sees in
     Stiles but doesn't care as long as he can hurt Derek by claiming her
     as his.
     Written for this_prompt on Teen Wolf Kink Meme on LJ.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Stiles lay in the back of her Jeep shivering. Peter had left her there, not
even bothering with closing the back door before he drove off in his car.
Stiles still felt his claws drag against her skin. Tears streaked her face and
a sob fought its way out of her mouth. Suddenly she could no longer hold back
her crying. Stiles curled her legs under and continued sobbing uncontrollably.
It wasn’t like anyone was around to hear her—nobody had been around 15 minutes
earlier to hear her screams either.

Fifteen minutes earlier, Peter had tried giving her the bite, telling her how
excellent a werewolf she would be. When Stiles refused, Peter was most
definitely not pleased. Stiles tried to inch away from Peter as he moved toward
her.

“You know what I heard just now? Your heart beating slightly faster over the
words ‘I don’t want.’ Stiles, you may believe you are telling me the truth, but
you are lying to yourself.”

Stiles paused, unsure what to say to that, but a howl broke her out of her
thoughts. For a very, very small moment, Stiles thought perhaps Scott or even
Derek was nearby, but when she turned back to Peter, he didn’t look concerned
at all.

“You would think that your mate would come find you by now, but he isn’t near
here at all,” Peter leered.

“I’m sure my friends will find me.” Stiles gulped, but this time she knew she
wouldn’t be called out for lying. Scott may have tried to kill her multiple
times as a werewolf, but still, he never let her down when he had been a human.
“They’ll be here.”

“But not your mate?” Peter tilted his head as if he was trying to answer the
question as well.

“My what? I’m- my friends, well Scott, will be here.”

“But not Derek?”

“I thought we both agreed Derek is a little tied up right now?”

Between Peter’s attempt to turn her into a werewolf, calling her out on her
lies, and now talking of mates as if there was an actual goddamn wolf pack
roaming around, Stiles was more than a little flustered. She reached a hand up
to her hair, hoping the loosening up of her ponytail would help her think.
Maybe all the hairspray fumes were making her head feel too tight and
interrupting her thought process. She winced when her hair caught on a bobby
pin, but she panicked as soon as she opened her eyes. Peter had closed the
distance between them, barely an inch in front of her. Stiles flailed backward
in her attempt to move away, breaking one of her high heels in the process.
Stiles yelped as Peter caught her by her upper arms, but rather than hoist her
back up, he dragged her back toward his car. Stiles tried yanking free, but
Peter’s grip remained firm.

“Please, please don’t kill me! Oh my god! Don’t put me in the trunk! I know
your nurse is dead and so she’s no longer useful, but like, you said you were
going to let me go!” Stiles tried to free her arms. “Can’t you just let me go?”
Stiles begged, trying to get her heels to find some traction on the concrete
floor. Stiles scanned the floor for her keys. Peter had dropped them once he
distorted her metal keys, but she still had her pepper spray attached to it, so
maybe—

“I’m not going to kill you. And you’re right. You’re so much more valuable
alive. But you see, your mate thinks he can kill me. He needs to be taught a
lesson.”

Peter gripped Stiles’ hair, flinging her into the backseat. Stiles scrambled
toward the other door, hoping to escape, but Peter pulled her back by her leg,
causing Stiles to hit her head against the door. Stiles clutched her head as
her vision became blurry, but panicked when she felt Peter’s hand slip under
her dress. Lydia had prompted Stiles into purchasing the damn thing, calling it
‘cute and short enough to show off your legs, which really are your best
feature.’ In the store, it seemed a good idea to make her lifelong crush happy
by buying it, but now, with a creep running his hands between her legs, Stiles
wished she had bought a dress with massive layers of tulle and ruffles and
maybe even a good old fashioned metal chastity belt for good measure. It
probably wouldn’t be able to stop major creeps with werewolf strength, but
fuck, no, no, fingers slipping beneath her underwear broke her out of her
thoughts.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! No, no, no! This is so not happening!”

Stiles turned onto her back and kicked upward, her knee connecting with Peter’s
nose. Stiles heard his nose crunch and Peter reared backward, blood dripping
from his face. Stiles kicked again, this time aiming her still intact high heel
into his face. Peter roared and his face contorted, the bones resetting and
healing. Stiles’ heart raced as his teeth momentarily elongated and reverted
back to normal human teeth again. Before her heel connected with his face,
Peter grabbed her by her ankles and twisted them until Stiles was forced to
turn over onto her stomach unless she wanted broken bones. This time Peter held
Stiles by her leg, preventing her from escaping while he shredded her underwear
apart with his claws.

“You’re worse than your mate. Both of you are far too headstrong,” Peter
informed Stiles as if he were merely commenting about the weather.

Stiles screamed, praying someone would hear and come help her. Peter forced
Stiles’ legs apart, fitting himself between them, and she could hear the sound
of a zipper.

“Really, Stiles, nobody can hear you. Nobody is coming to save you.”

Stiles felt his claws pin down her shoulders, forcing her to lay flat in the
backseat. She continued struggling against him, but he managed to hold her down
long enough to enter her.

“You’re such a fucking creep!” Stiles screamed out, gasping for air. Peter’s
cock slowly inched inside of her and she suddenly realized the importance of
lubricants. This was why all those Cosmo magazines discussed the importance of
foreplay and using lubricants to ensure minimal friction. This was why all the
fanfiction she read had paragraphs about using lube before sex. Of fucking
 course this was her luck. Stiles’ body lurched forward in pain and tears
welled up in her eyes. Stiles reached for the door handle once more. She tugged
at the handle with one hand and shoved the door with the other, but Peter
reached forward and slammed the door shut, grabbing Stiles’ wrists and pinning
them down in front of her. Stiles cried as Peter pushed in and out of her,
ignoring her protests. Peter’s grip on her wrists tightened, and she could feel
the bruises starting to form. Peter paused while still inside her, and Stiles
tried to squirm out of his grasp once more. Peter released her wrists to grab
her shoulders again to stop her from escaping.

“It really would not be in your best interest to move right now.” Peter lowered
his body onto hers, completely pressed up against her back, and placed his lips
next to her ear. “I do not want to hurt you any more than necessary.” Peter
pushed farther inside of Stiles and she felt what he was talking about.

“Oh my fucking god! What the fuck are you doing!?” Stiles cried out when his
cock somehow started growing inside of her. Stiles couldn’t breathe. Her lungs
refused to cooperate. Stiles tried to lift herself up, but Peter’s claws
dragged along her collar bone as he held her down with his weight.

“Knotting you, Stiles. Claiming you. To teach your mate a lesson,” Peter
gritted out.

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” Stiles screamed, tears streaking
her face. Stiles tried lifting herself up again, but the pain inside her body
made her want to cry. She felt like she was dying, being split in half from the
inside and suffocated from the weight on top of her. Stiles tried to bite the
leather upholstery between her teeth, unable to tolerate the pain. Lips pressed
against Stiles’ forehead, and really, no, any sense of romanticism here was
just unacceptable. Stiles buried her face into the upholstery, but she still
felt Peter trailing kisses down her neck. Stiles felt Peter’s body spasm as he
came and Stiles wanted to murder him for getting any ounce of pleasure out of
raping her. As soon as Peter let go of Stiles’ body, she wanted to run away,
but her legs refused to work.

“What the fuck?” Stiles gasped out, unsure why Peter felt any of that was
necessary—why he decided raping her would teach anyone a fucking lesson.

“There, there, Stiles. If you had not been so resistant, perhaps I would not
have been so rough. But look, I barely scratched you. Rest assured, you will
not have to worry about becoming a werewolf like Lydia might.” Peter stroked
Stiles’ arms as if to soothe, but she jerked away from his touch. “Stiles, your
mate is getting far too many ideas. Hopefully this will remind him who the
alpha is in this pack.”

Peter lifted Stiles up from the back of his car, cradling her as he opened the
back of Stiles’ Jeep. Stiles stared at Peter as he placed her in the back of
it. She wanted to shred him to pieces, tear out his heart, feed him to the
dogs, tell him how much of a fucking asshole he is, but nothing came out of her
mouth. Peter gave her a contemplating look before reaching for her lacrosse
bag, his arm still tight around her shoulders. Stiles fumed when he took out
one of her t-shirts and started cleaning off the blood running down her legs.

“Don’t worry. If you are right, one of your friends will be here soon.”

Peter smirked at her as he walked away to his car, and Stiles watched him drive
out of sight. She still had no idea what lesson Peter was proving by raping
her, but she was determined to teach him a lesson of her own.
***** Chapter 2 *****
 
Stiles moved to sit upright, wiping the tears away from her face. Before she
dropped to the ground, she kicked off her broken high heels and exchanged them
for the running shoes left in her lacrosse bag. This wasn’t how high school
dances were supposed to go. Random guys weren’t supposed to be able to shred
your high school crush apart in front of your eyes and then basically kidnap
and rape you. No, but then again werewolves weren’t supposed to exist. Stiles
just never imagined either would ever come after her.
 
Tears renewed momentarily as she jumped to the concrete. Stiles’ hands lingered
over her lacrosse hoodie before finally grabbing it and pulling it over her
head. The hoodie would hide the wounds on her shoulders and neck, but it
probably wasn’t doing anything for the claw marks on her legs. Stiles tried to
pull her dress down farther, hoping it would cover the marks on her thighs. She
had to pause to regain her balance. The walk to the hospital was only a few
blocks. She could do it. She had to.
 
Each step hurt, but eventually she found her way to the front of the hospital.
Stiles watched doctors pass by her. If she stopped them, she would be forced to
tell them exactly what happened, and she really did not want to explain it just
yet. Well, she wanted to, but how do you tell someone that a homicidal,
recently catatonic werewolf decided to rape you in order to teach someone else
a lesson? Yeah, that wouldn’t make any sense. None of the nurses stopped her
despite her appearance. Stiles tugged at her hair again. They were all probably
used to seeing the sheriff’s daughter looking disheveled. Stiles walked faster,
gripping her jacket closer and fighting back the tears at being overlooked and
ignored. Scott’s mom would notice something’s wrong just by a single glance.
Melissa McCall would easily figure it out without Stiles having to say
anything. Stiles paused, trying to place where she might find her inside the
hospital.
 
“What the hell happened, Stilinski?” Jackson somehow got in front of her,
blocking her path. Stiles stared at him. She just wanted to see a doctor. A
nurse would be perfectly acceptable, preferably one who answers to the name
‘Melissa McCall.’ Just someone who could make the pain go away, and Jackson was
doing none of that when he shoved against her. He was nothing but a
nuisance—the reason Lydia wandered outside of the dance and the reason Stiles
followed her. If Lydia had merely decided to forget about Jackson, Peter would
never have found the two girls so easily. Stiles moved away from Jackson and
continued limping down the corridor. “Where are you going?”
 
Every fiber in her being urged her to continue with her hunt for Mrs. McCall or
seek out Lydia, but instead “To find Scott” came out of her mouth. Stiles
gripped her neck. Somehow the pieces of the Hale fire started clicking in her
head—pieces of information nobody had ever discussed with her. Stiles wanted to
question where this newfound knowledge came from, but instead she changed
direction, walking back toward the nearest hospital exit. When Peter abandoned
Stiles in the car garage, he planned to confront his pack, meaning where Scott
and Derek would be, so would Peter. And Stiles really wanted to find him. This
time, Lydia’s Molotov cocktail recipe would work.
 
“I’ll drive.” Jackson reached out, jerking Stiles back by her shoulder. Stiles
quickly turned around, shoving Jackson as far away as possible.
 
“First off, you don’t need to have any physical contact with me. Second, just
because you feel guilty all of a sudden doesn’t make it okay. This is still
your fault.” Stiles didn’t clarify to Jackson what was his fault exactly, but
it felt good taking her anger out on someone, even if he was only indirectly
responsible.
 
“I have a car and you don’t. Do you want my help or not?”
 
Stiles felt pain searing where Jackson had grabbed onto her shoulder. Biting
back tears, Stiles looked toward Jackson. “Did you bring the Porsche?”
 
“Yeah.”
 
Jackson was close enough now that Stiles could smell the alcohol reeking off
him. “Good, I’ll drive.” Stiles snatched the keys out of Jackson’s hands. “I’ve
got a plan, and it doesn’t involve you driving us into a ditch.”
 
---
 
For the third time this night, Stiles was faced with an unwelcome male presence
when Chris Argent decided to block their path. As Argent shoved Jackson and
Stiles into an empty operating room, Stiles began hyperventilating. Stiles
heard the door shut and lock. Her one means of escape was barred, and Stiles
felt her heart rate skyrocket. 
 
“Hey, freaking breathe, Stilinski.”
 
Stiles couldn’t lower her heart rate. She felt like her heart was trying to
escape out of her body. All she wanted was to leave this room. Everything was
too hot. Much too hot. Stiles could feel her body heating up, the sweat
starting to form on her skin. Stiles clutched her jacket, wanting to take it
off before realizing all the claw marks really wouldn’t bode well with the
werewolf hunters in the room. There wasn’t enough oxygen, not enough for Stiles
and Jackson and Chris Argent and his hunters. Stiles couldn’t breathe. The men
in the room were taking up all the air.
 
“Stilinski?”
 
Stiles turned her head to see Jackson staring back at her, and Stiles slowly
started calming herself down. Stiles internally berated herself for having a
panic attack right in the middle of an interrogation. That’s not suspicious at
all. Yep, not at all. Mr. Argent walked toward her, smug that Stiles and
Jackson would give him the information he wanted.
 
“Are you nervous, Stiles?”
 
“I just don’t see where you think manhandling is going to get you,” Stiles spit
out. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but flinging the sheriff’s daughter into
a dark room won’t get you any preferential treatment in this town.”
 
Mr. Argent nodded, turning on the lights. He walked closer toward her, and
Stiles gripped her collar. She really did not need to be on the Argent family’s
hit list too. They went after Jackson for having a couple of claw marks in his
neck. If they saw what Stiles’ neck and shoulders looked like, they would
probably flip. Luckily, Argent maintained his distance, but Stiles refrained
from moving her hand. “Stiles, we just don’t want werewolves running around
killing people. Do you know what they do?”
 
Stiles rolled her eyes. She had a very clear idea what they tend to do. “Yeah,
but Scott hasn’t done anything to warrant going after him!” Stiles paused. A
new memory flashed before her of the Hale fire. Arson. Stiles tried to remember
if she ever saw that in her father’s case files, but nothing came to mind. She
seriously would have remembered that sort of discussion with her father, but
still, information is information. And if she could convince Argent of it, then
maybe she could find a way to stop Peter. “Derek said you have a code, right? I
guess nobody ever breaks it.”
 
“Never.”
 
“What if someone does?”
 
Chris Argent stared at Stiles, irritation evident. “Who?”
 
The image of a woman’s face swam before her eyes. Stiles tried to place where
she knew her, but only her name came to her. Kate Argent. Stiles rolled her
eyes again. Chris Argent definitely wouldn’t believe her, and Stiles felt like
she was losing her mind, but still… “Your sister.” Stiles saw the pain forming
in Argent’s eyes. Clearly he believed in the possibility of his sister breaking
their code. Stiles decided it was now or never to try to garner Chris Argent’s
support. “Scott didn’t kill anybody. It’s the alpha that’s killing everyone.
He’s the one you guys should go after,” Stiles reasoned. Stiles looked down,
unsure if what she was about to say next would help or hurt Scott. “And I
happen to know where the alpha will be.”
 
---
 
Derek could smell Stiles’ blood in the air, but he could only sense the alpha’s
presence along with Kate’s body bleeding inside the house. Walking closer
toward Peter, Derek realized Peter had Stiles’ blood on him—Stiles’ blood mixed
with Peter’s semen. Derek’s wolf took over, urging him to kill Peter. The wolf
demanded Derek kill the man responsible for ripping apart Laura, kill the man
responsible for claiming his rightful mate Stiles.
 
Derek shook his head. His wolf already took over, but Derek still tried to
reason why Peter would claim her. Claiming a mate makes you stronger, but
surely Stiles would not agree to being claimed by Peter. Of all people, she
knew exactly how far removed Peter was from his humanity. Peter could not have
told her all the facts about being a werewolf’s mate.
 
Stiles couldn’t have agreed. Suddenly it clicked. Of course she didn’t agree to
it. Derek had mentioned Stiles the few times he saw Peter in the hospital—the
few times he had begged him to wake up and help him find the monster killing
people in Beacon Hills—so surely Peter knew that Derek wanted her as his mate,
even if he didn’t want to claim her anytime soon. Derek had resisted from
claiming her, reminding himself of her age, of her being barely anything more
than a child—of being anything more than an immature sixteen year old girl. How
Peter managed to ignore all that, Derek couldn’t fathom. Peter already thought
it was acceptable killing his own niece for power. Derek lunged at Peter, ready
to rip him apart. Peter shoved Derek away, fighting both Scott and Derek
without even shifting into his alpha form.
 
“Derek, you can’t kill me. I have you, Scott, and a mate. I am stronger than
all of you.” Derek jumped toward Peter again. This time Peter grabbed Derek’s
neck. “Sorry about claiming her, but in time, she will be better suited as the
alpha’s mate. You need to learn who is in control of this pack.” Peter’s grip
on Derek tightened. “This will be a hard lesson you will have to learn.”
 
Peter threw Derek across the room, successfully knocking him out. Waking up
from the concussion, Derek could hear Stiles’ voice outside, hear flames
ignite, and for a moment, Derek thought the house had been set on fire again.
Only this time, the fire would kill him as well. Derek lifted himself up. The
wolf refused to let Derek die while Stiles and Peter were outside. It forced
him to pull together his strength, to find his mate as his bones healed
themselves.  Derek limped through the house, refusing to let Peter get away.
 
When Derek exited the house, he smelled Peter’s scent covering Stiles, could
see the claw marks claiming her. Derek gritted his teeth. The smell of fear
radiated from Stiles in waves. She couldn’t have consented to Peter’s claim,
not if her erratic heartbeat and every single scent of pain, anger, and
resentment permeating the air around her were any indication.
 
Derek ignored Scott’s pleas to kill the alpha. Derek had no idea if killing an
alpha would actually cure the bite. It was just a myth, something he heard as a
child. There was no proof of it ever working.
 
“Derek, if you do this, I’m dead. Her father, her family. What am I supposed to
do?”
 
Derek closed his eyes. Scott was still too new of a werewolf if he couldn’t
even sense the bond Peter had forced with Stiles. No, still concerned only
about Allison at this point, despite Stiles being Scott's oldest friend. His
wolf snarled to kill Peter, kill the man who ripped his sister in half and who
claimed his mate.
 
“You’ve already decided,” Peter whispered. Derek tried to resist, tried to
ignore the pain he felt from being betrayed by his uncle twice. “I can smell it
on you,” Peter sneered. Derek’s wolf reared up again, and his claws came out to
slice Peter’s throat. Derek felt the weak bond between Peter and Scott break.
As the light left Peter’s eyes, Stiles’ breath hitched. Anger coursed through
Derek’s body as he stood up. The bond between her and Peter did not change. She
was still Peter’s mate.
 
Derek avoided looking at Stiles, instead turning to face Scott. “I’m the alpha
now,” Derek growled out, forcing his gaze away from Stiles, unsure how his wolf
would react to seeing his mate claimed by another.
 
---
 
Briefly Stiles felt a sense of Karma righting itself within the universe when
Derek slit Peter's neck. Despite being an incredibly horrible wish, that was
exactly what she wanted—Peter dead. But after a few seconds, the constant pain
shooting through her body doubled. Stiles groaned, crumbling to the forest
floor. Scott and Derek both looked toward Stiles, but neither made any motion
to move toward her. Stiles couldn't breathe again. The oxygen was being sucked
out, and that was impossible. This is the forest. With trees. And trees are
supposed to make oxygen. Stiles felt Jackson's hands on her arm.
 
"Stilinski, what the hell?"
 
"No, go away," Stiles gasped out. Stiles couldn’t make sense of what was
happening. It felt nothing like a panic attack. Her body felt like it was
constricting. Stiles wanted to puke, but nothing was coming out.
 
"Stiles, what's the matter?" Scott sat on his haunches next to Stiles.
 
Tears streaked her face. "He was right. Peter was right. Nobody came to help
me."
 
"I'm right here." Scott reached for Stiles’ arms but she moved away.
 
 "No, no, don’t touch me."
 
Stiles shook her head and leaned into Jackson's grip. Scott didn't know what to
do, but then he smelled the blood covering Stiles' body. “Stiles, what
happened?"
 
"You didn't help me."
 
“Stiles, let's just take you to the hospital. Jackson will let us use his car.
I'll go with you two."
 
The car ride was awkward. Initially Scott tried to herd Stiles into the
backseat, but she just yelled, her hands lashing out at Scott’s face. When
Allison finally broke away from her father in order to calm Stiles down,
Jackson sat in the back seat while Scott realized he would have to drive them
to the hospital. Scott tried to take inventory of the people in the car.
Jackson looked distant while Stiles continued crying in the front seat.  Scott
reclined Stiles’ seat into a lying position before closing her door and making
his way to the driver’s side. Scott tried to ask Stiles what happened, but she
refused to tell him anything. Instead she alternated between trying to inch
away from them and sobbing into her jacket. Scott tried to figure out what
happened, but all he could smell was Peter’s scent covering her. Scott gripped
the steering wheel tighter. He had promised to keep his friends from getting
hurt, but clearly he had failed.
 
Jackson didn’t know how to react to seeing one of his classmates hurting. All
he could think about was how McCall was an idiot if even as a werewolf he
couldn’t even protect his closest friends. Jackson looked at Stiles crying once
more before shaking his head and looking out the window. When the car finally
stopped at the hospital, Scott exited the vehicle and opened the passenger door
to carry Stiles inside.
 
When Stiles’ sweater was removed, Stiles could hear the nurses asking her what
happened, asking her if the same animal that attacked Lydia attacked her. When
the nurses noticed the blood dripping down her legs, Stiles finally told the
nurses she had been raped, and they paused their cleaning of the wounds on her
upper body to properly examine the extent of damage done to her lower body. She
would need stitches, they told her, but she merely nodded.
 
Once inside, Jackson thought everything would get better, but everything got
worse. The sheriff was there, and while he had been upset over Lydia's attack,
the sight of his own daughter covered in scratches and claw marks and being
prepped to be operated on emitted a worse reaction. Jackson spotted the sheriff
heading toward them down the corridor and he quickly moved away from Scott and
headed back toward his car. He already had been interrogated once over what
happened to Lydia. Scott could handle this on his own.
 
The sheriff shoved Scott into the wall when he found him pacing next to the
room Stiles was currently in. “What happened? First Lydia came in bloody and
torn up and now Stiles? What did this?”
 
For as long as Scott has been friends with Stiles, her father acted as a second
father to him, never raising his voice or being harsh with him even when Stiles
and Scott got in serious trouble. He tried to be stern, but he never truly
showed any real rage. Scott ducked his eyes before looking back up. Derek
definitely was going to kill him for saying this, but listening to his best
friend crying nonstop in the car ride urged him to continue. "Peter Hale."
 
The sheriff huffed out a breath. “Scott, Peter Hale has been in a catatonic
state for six years.”
 
"Well… he got better.”
 
The sheriff’s grip on Scott’s shoulders loosened and this time when he spoke,
his voice came out softer. “Scott, is there something you have against the Hale
family?”
 
Scott’s eyes widened momentarily. “No! I was confused in the school! I thought
it was Derek trying to kill us because the guy looked like him, but it wasn’t.
I was wrong! I saw Peter! That’s who I saw, and that’s who hurt Stiles.” Scott
waited for Stiles’ father to argue, but instead arms enveloped him. Scott let
Stiles’ father hug him, and if both of their eyes had started to water when
they broke away, neither pointed it out.
 
Stiles’ father placed an arm on Scott’s shoulder before walking away. “Alright,
Scott.” Scott watched the sheriff’s shoulders slump as he whispered to nobody
in particular, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 
 
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
 
Stiles draped the hospital blanket around her. She had stayed in the hospital
overnight and not once was she allowed to leave her room. She just wanted to
walk around for a bit, but she worried too. The stitches might mess up, and
Stiles really didn't want anyone else poking around down there. Stiles let out
a huff of air right as Jackson walked in.
 
Jackson paused, taking a step backward. "Sorry, should I go?”
 
Stiles shrugged indifference. Stiles definitely did not expect Jackson of all
people to wander into her hospital room, but her lack of company intrigued her.
 
"How's Lydia doing?"
 
Jackson lacked the easy confidence he carried around during school. For once he
actually looked like a human being with feelings. "She wasn't healing at first,
but now I think she’s getting better."
 
"That's good."
 
"Yeah…"
 
Stiles looked at the flowers Jackson awkwardly held. The bouquet of daisies
hung limply in his hand. Stiles barely spoke to Lydia, but even she knew Lydia
would need at least twelve dozen roses if Jackson ever wanted her to forgive
him. A completely refurbished plantation house on the Southern coast might also
work as well.
 
"You brought her flowers?” Stiles snorted. “Trying to make up for being a
douchebag to her?"
 
Jackson rolled his eyes, but didn’t make eye contact with her. "And you,"
Jackson muttered.
 
Stiles sat up, annoyed that Jackson would throw insults at her. “What? I wasn’t
the asshole who dumped her in front of the whole school,” Stiles snapped.
 
"Stilinski," Jackson let out a groan, "these are for you. I just-I thought you
were just freaked out about Lydia that night. I didn't know... I wouldn't have
shoved you if—"
 
"If you knew I’d been raped?" Stiles tilted her head. As much as she liked
seeing Jackson grovel, he really could do better.
 
"Whatever. I'm sorry. I just wanted to say sorry."
 
Stiles let out a breath of air. "It's okay. It's not like it’s your fault,
Jackson. Everything is fine. I’m fine." Jackson nodded his head but he
continued pacing around the room. He seemed far out of his comfort zone."You’re
acting really weird. If you want to leave, that’s fine. I’m supposed to finally
go home tonight. Just waiting on my dad to pick me up.”
 
Jackson finally looked up at her."Yeah, fine, I’ve got something to do
anyways." Stiles watched him place the bouquet on the table nearest her bed.
Jackson was close enough now that she noticed he still wore his outfit from
formal. Something in Stiles made her want to reach out and hug him, but Stiles
didn’t move a muscle, reminding herself that ever since elementary school,
Jackson made it very clear they weren’t friends.
 
When Stiles was by herself, she rearranged her blankets once more before
finally drifting off to sleep. Stiles’ slept soundly until the light in her
dreams slowly diminished, the darkness soothing until it was rapidly filled
with fire. She tried running away from the flames, but claws held her down,
digging into her flesh. Stiles screamed, waking up drenched in sweat. Realizing
it was all a nightmare, Stiles heaved out a breath of air. The door to her room
opened quickly, causing Stiles to panic for a moment before she noticed it was
only her dad.
 
“Stiles, what’s the matter?”
 
“Nothing, nothing. Just a bad dream. No big deal.” Stiles sat up in her bed.
“So, daddy-o, do I get to go home today?” Stiles grinned widely, but her father
wasn’t fooled. He walked up to her bed, placing his hand on her forehead.
 
“Are you sure? I’m sure if you want to spend another night here, it’ll be
alright. Just let me know.”
 
“Please, dad. I’ll be fine. I just want to go home now.”
 
Sheriff Stilinski slumped into the chair nearest her bed. He would do anything
to protect his daughter, but he had failed. When he saw Stiles inside the
hospital, tears pouring down her face, he wanted to carry her and console her
like he had when she had fallen off the monkey bars years ago, but it wasn’t
the same. She was older and the bruises she had now could not be ignored by a
few hugs and the promise of ice cream.
 
When his officers located a deserted vehicle, he realized Scott was right in
saying some lunatic had been killing off people. Being a cop for the last
twenty years should have steeled his nerves, but he hadn’t been prepared to see
the scene of his daughter’s rape. The back seat’s upholstery had been shredded
as if someone dragged a knife through it, and his daughter’s blood was clearly
there, mixed with Peter’s semen. The dead woman in the trunk shook the sheriff
to his very core. If his officers had found Peter that same night, the sheriff
would have murdered Peter himself. As it was, he had no idea where Peter might
be. The possibility that Peter could find Stiles again worried him the most.
 
“Dad? You okay?”
 
The sheriff glanced at his daughter, her brown eyes far too sad. “Yeah, let me
just sign the papers and we can go.” Stiles’ father retrieved the bag he had
placed on the floor.  “I brought you some clothes.”
 
The sheriff left the room to fill out all the paperwork while Stiles tugged out
a shirt from the bag and pulled it over her head.
 
---
 
During the car ride home, the sheriff sat quietly, looking over at his daughter
every couple of minutes. Finally Stiles turned her head toward him. "I'm not
going anywhere, dad."
 
"I know, I'm just, I'm glad you're alright."
 
Stiles thought back about Lydia, about Kate, about the men Peter killed, about
the family Kate killed. Stiles' father had every right to be thankful she was
still alive, but it still made her heart hurt. Her father didn't need any more
pain in his life. He suffered too much from her mother’s death. Tears started
to blur Stiles' vision and she quickly batted them away with her eyelashes.
 
"I’m not going anywhere, dad. You, however, need to stop eating so much junk
food." Stiles picked up a Burger King wrapper off the floor beneath her seat.
"Is this what happens when I'm not here to supervise? You know this means we're
going to have to have more family dinners.” Stiles tossed the wrapper toward
the dashboard. “Sheesh, I'm not home for a couple of nights and your health
just goes down the drain.” Stiles shook her head, pretending to be deeply
affronted, but the sheriff laughed, giving her hand a squeeze.
 
---
 
On Monday morning Stiles wondered if she would have to go to school. The gossip
mill would probably be working overtime. Stiles tried to imagine what would be
the most talked about subject. Lydia was still in a coma. Her wounds were
healing but she still hadn't woken up, and as one of the socially elite, surely
everyone would be talking about that. Then they might gossip about Allison’s
deceased aunt who arranged the fire that killed the Hale family. Stiles
wondered how Allison was coping with that. Allison had visited Stiles in the
hospital, but both of them skirted around the subject of what happened after
the formal. It was easier that way to just pretend nothing happened.
 
Stiles heard a knock on her bedroom door before her father gently opened it.
“Hey, kiddo. How are you feeling?”
 
"Uh, as good as can be expected at seven in the morning."
 
Her father chuckled. “Well, I just wanted to let you know, if you want to stay
home from school, I can call you in sick. But you better have someone bring you
your homework, understand?”
 
Stiles smiled. “Of course, dad. I'll text Scott.”
 
Stiles listened to her dad walk downstairs. His routine had been the same for
as long as she could remember. First he would make coffee, next eat breakfast
while reading the paper, and finally check that the back door was locked before
leaving through the front door, locking it afterwards. Stiles tried to burrow
into her blankets but she couldn't get comfortable. At night her dreams kept
getting filled with images of Peter, causing her to barely sleep, but now she
was wide awake.
 
Stiles sat in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal when she heard the doorbell
ring. Walking toward it, Stiles wondered who exactly could be at her house this
early. Stiles opened the door, seeing Allison standing outside. Allison looked
skittish but a smile lit up her features when she saw Stiles.
 
“Hey, I didn't see your Jeep in the parking lot, so well, I figured I'd come
check up on you. Scott gave me the directions.”
 
Stiles rolled her eyes but couldn't keep the smile away as she opened the door
for Allison to enter. "Well, Nurse Allison, step into my humble abode. I'm sure
we can watch some television while you assess my well-being."
 
Allison walked in, waiting while Stiles closed and locked the door behind her.
Stiles sat down on the couch in her living room, motioning for Allison to join
her. Allison plopped down and sighed, closing her eyes. A few minutes passed
while Stiles watched the television, not sure what to say.
 
"I know my aunt killed people and I should hate her, but I just couldn't handle
it." Allison opened her eyes to look at Stiles. "I couldn't handle the gossip.
I couldn’t handle listening to the things people said behind my back." Allison
looked so much more tired than before. Stiles wasn't sure how close they were,
but she decided now was the right time to hug Allison. It was awkward trying to
find a suitable way to hug her while sitting down, but Stiles managed to
scramble into Allison’s space. "I feel like such a baby." Allison brushed away
a few tears. "I'm so sorry, Stiles. I should be consoling you. I came here to
do that."
 
Stiles squeezed her harder. "Shut up," Stiles lightly scolded, “I'll be all
better soon. You just lost an aunt. It’s not your fault she had a secret
killing agenda.” Stiles continued hugging Allison. Truthfully, every time
Stiles thought of Kate, she couldn’t help but think that she was just as
horrible. Stiles wanted Peter dead, and she did her best to make sure he
someone would kill him before the night was over. Stiles squeezed Allison
tighter. Stiles felt safe, something that hadn't been the case during the last
few days.
 
“Thanks.” Allison returned the hug before allowing Stiles to rearrange herself
on the couch. Stiles turned to face the TV, but her head used Allison’s lap as
a pillow.
 
"Scott is going to be so jealous," Stiles murmured before finally falling
asleep.
 
Stiles woke up to the sound of rumbling. She couldn't understand why her pillow
wasn't as fluffy as usual until she remembered that she had fallen asleep on
Allison's legs. Stiles shifted and she heard her stomach rumble again. Stiles
ran a hand over her stomach. "I'm starving," Stiles pouted.
 
Stiles heard Allison laugh and she sat up to argue with her. "Hey, I'm a
growing teen. I need food."
 
"I know, but, gosh, did you know you talk in your sleep?"
 
Stiles tried to remember what she was dreaming about but nothing stuck. "Um,
no?"
 
"You probably were dreaming about Lydia, but gosh, I didn't know you could get
so detailed." Stiles blushed, unable to respond to that. Stiles looked at her
surroundings, noticing that the sky outside had darkened considerably. Stiles
immediately felt bad for sleeping on Allison basically the whole day.
 
"Sorry for keeping you here as my prisoner. Next time I fall asleep on your
legs, I totally give you permission to knock me off."
 
"Don’t worry. This was nice. I got to skip school and got to keep my secret
boyfriend's best friend company."
 
"Secretly dating him sounds tricky."
 
"Yeah. Apparently my dad doesn't think it's acceptable for werewolves to date
their daughters, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him." Stiles nodded her
head in agreement and Allison grabbed her purse off the floor. "My parents
probably have the house staked out in case any werewolves decide to talk to me
while I’m in here. They're paranoid."
 
Stiles opened her mouth to respond, but she made a mental note to send a fruit
basket to the Argents. Being paranoid in Beacon Hills sounded like a perfectly
acceptable lifestyle when werewolves roamed around it. As much as the Argents
creeped her out, she did appreciate their level of protectiveness. It scared
her, but still it was impressive. When Allison finally left, Stiles saw that
Allison was right. A black SUV filled with a couple of hunters left as soon as
she got in her car. Stiles debated if this made her a bad friend to Scott, but
she couldn't deny that it seemed safer knowing someone was looking out for
them. Her thoughts turned toward Lydia once more. She didn't know if she woke
up yet, but she wanted to see her. Needed to see her. Lydia had been her crush
all throughout school, but this was different. Stiles needed to make sure Lydia
was safe.
 
Stiles walked back upstairs, stopping in the bathroom to look at her
reflection. Stiles pulled on the collar of her shirt to see how bad her
shoulders looked. The claw marks were still there, but they seemed to be
healing normally. No wolfy nonsense there. But still. Stiles looked at the
bruises once more before letting the collar snap back in place. Stiles wanted
to cover every single bruise up and pretend they were never there. Pretend
nobody had ever hurt her like Peter had. If Stiles owned a parka, she would
consider putting it on over all her outfits.  Stiles pulled her hair back into
a ponytail, forgoing brushing it. She hadn’t brushed it all day, so might as
well keep up the precedent. Looking at her sweatpants, Stiles figured those
would be fine as well. Stiles went back downstairs, slipping her shoes on and
grabbing her jacket, wallet, and spare keys before leaving. She paused as she
opened the front door. Her bent keys sat on the foyer table. Stiles carefully
removed the pepper spray from her old keychain and placed it on the new one.
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     In case anyone was wondering, the title is from the song "The Killing
     Moon" by Echo and the Bunnymen.
     Also, sorry for the lack of Derek in this chapter. He's probably
     terrorizing small woodland creatures while Stiles subconsciously
     builds Peter's pack in more ways than one.
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