Chapter 10

After unloading the car, Peter carrying the heavier bags, they took the elevator up to his penthouse apartment, both heady with the feeling of the new bond, and Peter's alpha status flowing through it. Both were excited to be back in Beacon Hills, ready to walk around their town without fear, now that they were pack and Peter was an alpha again.

No sooner had they walked through the apartment door than Peter was pushing her behind him, snarling as he shielded her from the intruder who was sitting in the couch. He calmed when he took in the boy's appearance, moving to kneel before him.

"Stiles, what happened?"

Phoebe took one look at Stiles' battered face and went to her bathroom to get some bruise salve and some painkillers. When she returned, Peter moved to get him some water and allowed Phoebe to take his place. She put the painkillers in Stiles' hand and began putting salve on the bruises she could see on his arms and face.

When Peter walked back over with a glass of water, Stiles took it without comment, eyes still trained on the floor in front of him. Once the water glass was empty, Peter took it from him and set it on the small table.

"What happened," he repeated.

Stiles finally glanced at him. "I didn't know where else to go," he said.

Peter didn't even ask how Stiles knew where he lived or how he'd gotten in. "I'm not angry you're here, Stiles. What happened?"

Stiles glanced at Peter and then at Phoebe. "I thought you'd left town," he said.

She shook her head. "I've been staying here. Theo attacked me. Peter rescued me from Eichen House."

Stiles' jaw clenched at the name. "Of course Theo put you in Eichen House. I'm glad you got out."

Phoebe leaned forward, placing a gentle hand on Stiles' arm. "What happened?"

"Scott attacked me."

Phoebe gasped, and Stiles hastened to continue. "I mean, he hit me. Roughed me up a bit, I guess. He didn't wolf out and attack me."

"It doesn't matter if he wolfed out or not, Stiles. He still attacked you," Phoebe said.

Stiles nodded. "He wouldn't have, though. I'm sure this is all Theo's influence."

Phoebe wasn't so sure, but she kept her thoughts to herself.

Peter had no such qualms. "Scott has been a bit rough with you before," he said. "And Theo wasn't here."

Stiles looked at him warily, before hanging his head with a defeated sigh. "I know," he said, so quietly they almost couldn't hear him.

Peter leaned forward, grasping the boy's chin in his hand and raising Stiles' eyes to meet his. "You're welcome here anytime, Stiles. If you don't feel safe with Scott or the rest of the pack, come here. He has no right to assault you."

Relief flooded Stiles' scent as he sank back into the couch. "Thank you."

Phoebe and Peter shared a glance, but neither said anything.

An hour later, when Stiles had gone home to rest, Phoebe sat next to Peter on the arm of his chair. "So, I have a thought."

"What is it," Peter asked, looking up at her as he balanced her with a hand to the small of her back.

"I think Stiles could make a good pack member."

Peter stared at her for a moment. "I agree," he said. "I once offered him the bite and he refused."

Phoebe raised an eyebrow. "What were you doing at the time," she asked knowingly.

Peter smirked. "Trying to kill his friends."

Phoebe laughed. "Well, I think with the way Scott is acting, and with the addition of Theo to the mix he might be more receptive this time. Besides, you don't have to turn him unless he wants you to."

Peter nodded. He'd wanted Stiles in his pack ever since he'd first offered him the bite. "I would love to have him as my first beta. I've always thought he'd be a loyal pack member. But as long as he's loyal to Scott, that won't work."

Phoebe considered this for a moment, glancing toward the window. "But his loyalty to Scott is wavering because of Scott's actions. I don't think it would take much at this point. Just might take some time."

"What are you trying to say," Peter asked, pleased that she'd once again brought one of his plans into the conversation as though it was her own idea.

Phoebe's eyes were serious when she looked back at him. "I want Stiles in this pack. He reminds me of myself when I was younger. Caring. Loyal to those he cares about. I don't want to have him working against us, either. He's too smart."

Peter agreed with her. In theory. "If it's possible, then I agree," he said. "But a lot will depend on how much his loyalty to Scott wavers."

Phoebe nodded. "But if his loyalty shifts?"

"If his loyalty shifts," Peter agreed.

. . .

Though that was the first time Stiles had ever been in Peter's apartment, the first time he had actively sought help with Scott's outbursts and abuse, it was not the last time. Scott was getting used to solving their disagreements with actions rather than words.

Peter and Phoebe were sitting in the apartment, discussing plans to take down Eichen House, when a knock came at the door. Standing, Peter strode to the door to allow Stiles to enter. He could smell the blood from his place on the couch, and concern furrowed his brow as he opened the door to the newly battered teen.

His bruises were far more prominent this time, and scratches from Scott's claws had ripped down his face and arms. Blood seeped from the scratches that Peter could see, and soaked the kid's shirt where Peter could not see.

Growling, Peter gently drew Stiles into the apartment with a hand on his uninjured shoulder.

"Peter," Stiles asked, squinting to try to see out of his two black eyes.

"I'm here, Stiles," Peter said. "You made it to the apartment."

How the boy had made it here with his eyes like that, Peter didn't know, but the boy had always been lucky, so perhaps it was just that.

"I think I crashed my jeep into a tree outside," Stiles admitted.

Or maybe not as lucky as Peter had thought. Leading Stiles to the couch, Peter sat him down where Phoebe could look him over. "I'll go check on Roscoe," Peter said.

"Thank you." Stiles sighed in relief.

"Here, Stiles," Phoebe said, placing her medical kit on the table. "Let me see you. Do you have other cuts under your shirt? There's quite a bit of blood here."

Peter watched Stiles nod before walking out the door to get the boy's jeep, closing the door softly behind him. He took the stairs down rather than the elevator since it was faster for him. At the least, if the jeep was totaled, he didn't want anyone getting suspicious and calling the Sheriff while they were figuring out what was going on.

Phoebe took great care with Stiles' cuts. When they were cleaned and medicated, she had him take off his shirt so she could see what else was going on. The bruises that marked his chest and ribs stood out in painful contrast to his pale skin, and she inhaled sharply.

"It's bad, isn't it," Stiles asked when she was silent a moment too long.

"It is," she agreed. It was worse than she'd thought. Salve wouldn't be enough. "But I can fix it. Lay down on the couch for me, please. First, I need to see if anything is broken.

Peter saw Stiles' jeep immediately when he went outside. It had not crashed into a tree, not in the sense Stiles had meant. Rather, it had crashed into a small planter. No damage was done to the planter, and the jeep was mostly fine. It did have a small dent, but it wasn't anything that couldn't be fixed.

Starting the ignition with the keys Stiles had given him, he carefully maneuvered the car into a parking spot around the back of the apartments. If anyone was tracking Stiles' car, they'd have to put in a lot of effort to find it there.

When Peter returned to the apartment, he found Stiles stretched out on the couch with Phoebe kneeling next to him, hands gently hovering over the boy's chest. Peter's jaw clenched when he saw the extent of the damage.

"Nothing is broken," she informed both Stiles and Peter. "And I know a nifty healing spell to fix up the bruising."

"That's cool," Stiles breathed out through clenched teeth.

"I know it hurts," she said apologetically. "It'll get better in just a moment."

Peter watched in fascination as a pale blue glow emanated from her hands as she healed the bruises and claw marks. He'd never seen her use anything but salves before. A pained gasp from Stiles drew Peter from his musings. Sitting next to Stiles on the couch, he lightly took the boy's hand in his own.

"Can I draw his pain," Peter asked.

Phoebe nodded without glancing up. "That would be helpful."

Black lines crept up Peter's arms as Stiles melted into the couch cushions as the pain drained away from him. Peter smirked while the two could not see him. Scott was pushing his best friend right into his hands.