Thank you for the favorites/follows! And thank you, Muses, for your review of the last chapter. :)

I'm still debating whether this will be a Peter/Henley fic, or Derek/Henley fic, but am always open to suggestions (about that or anything else). Thanks so much for reading!

Chapter 13

"He just left her there?"

"It's Peter," Malia answered Stile's question flatly. It was enough of an explanation.

"What are you going to do with her?" Scott asked.

Derek thought of his uncle's beta, still passed out on his couch. She hadn't moved since Derek had deposited her there last night.

"Is she breathing?" Stiles asked, venturing closer to peer at the phoenix.

Derek knew she was. He had been awake most of the night, listening for her heartbeat. Still, she didn't look good.

Her skin was covered with ash, but beneath that, she was pale, her skin nearly translucent. Her breathing was shallow enough her chest barely rose and fell with each breath. And slow enough it was an uncomfortable wait when Derek watched for the next breath to come.

"We're not going to let Peter keep on going with…whatever this is, are we?" Stiles asked. "Like, we know he's a psychopath, he wanted her dead. He doesn't seem like he's really read up on the care and keeping of phoenixes."

Derek watched until she drew another breath. He focused to hear the slow, steady beating of her heart again. It was stronger than it had been during the night.

"Peter won't hurt her," Derek said. He knew some of his family loyalty was misplaced. But Peter was one of only three people he had left in his family. Cora, Malia, and Peter. No matter what Derek felt about Peter, it wasn't like he could afford high standards when it came to family. There just wasn't enough of the Hale family left for that sort of luxury. But, even without the family ties, and remembering all the ways Peter had coached Derek through his own transition and rough teen years, Derek had seen something in Peter's eyes when he asked where Henley was. Peter had answered, but there was too much annoyance there. Derek knew Peter well enough to suspect the annoyance was sincere, but also a useful mask for anything Peter might actually feel. Guilt, responsibility, any sort of attachment. It was anyone's guess what the emotion might actually be, buried under Peter's masochism. But Derek had seen it. And it was enough to keep him from going after Peter for what he had done to Henley.

"Don't you have school?" Derek asked the group staring down at Henley. He knew Isaac would have been there, but was steering clear of any chance Henley might put him together with the pack of wolves. That, and there was a good chance Chris Argent had made sure Isaac and Allison actually went to school. Unlike the band of teens standing in front of Derek.

"I think school's pretty optional your senior year," Stiles said.

Derek stared at him, his eyebrow lifting slightly.

"We should get going," Scott said. He looked over Henley one last time, then looked at Derek. "Let us know when she's awake."

Derek nodded. He waited until they were out of his space, the heavy door closing behind them and looked back at Henley. He sighed heavily and dropped back into the chair he had pulled up at some point after midnight to watch for each breath.

#

Peter knocked on the apartment door.

He waited impatiently for an answer. He needed answers, and he wasn't inclined to believe anything Henley said. Not that she was a wealth of information. She hadn't even known she was from a family of hunters. One of the more ruthless families.

The door swung open and Chris Argent stood there.

"Why is there a Dawson in town?" Peter asked without preamble.

"A Dawson? Here?" Chris asked.

Peter and Chris were uneasy allies at best, but Peter couldn't deny the man was less volatile than his father. And his sister. But Kate Argent wasn't exactly the standard to hold hunters to. She was more of a loose canon than even the Dawson clan could be. Or at least most of them.

Peter shoved aside thoughts of Kate and fixed Argent with a look.

"Not Garrett," Chris said, his face hardening.

Peter shook his head. Chris seemed legitimately caught off guard by any of the Dawsons showing up in Beacon Hills again after several years.

"Reed's here?"

Peter watched Argent's entire body stiffen at the possibility of Reed Dawson, the younger man and future of the Dawson line of hunters returning to Beacon Hills. And that was without Chris knowing the full extent of what Reed was capable of.

"His sister," Peter said, watching for Chris' reaction. Henley insisted she hadn't known anything about her family's career, but that didn't mean some part of Peter wasn't convinced she was an incredibly skilled liar.

"Henley?" Chris asked, confusion clear.

Peter had a flare of annoyance that all the hunters seemed to know one another, know each other's families. There was no way for a pack to stay safe when faced with an entire underground network of killers, not just one family.

"Henley Dawson," Peter confirmed without emotion.

"She can't be more than, what? Fifteen, sixteen?"

"Nineteen."

"Nineteen," Chris said. "Right. She's older than Allison. I haven't seen her since she was maybe twelve. I'm sure she's changed."

"Oh, she's changed," Peter said wryly.

"And she's here?" Chris said. "Without her family?"

"I want to know why."

Chris shook his head. "I have no idea. She's never been a hunter, as far as I know." He studied Peter. "What's going on?"

"Have you ever seen a phoenix?" Peter asked.

"I've heard of them," Chris said. "No one I know has ever seen one. Are the Dawsons trailing one?"

"Not exactly," Peter said. "You're sure she wasn't sent here to hunt us?"

Argent shook his head. "No one else is here besides me. There aren't any other hunters in this area. What's going on?"

#

It hurt to move.

Henley fought to open her eyes. Her vision was blurred and she blinked, trying to focus.

The room around her swam and she closed her eyes again. She strained to hear, but couldn't pick up any sounds. No overwhelming noises of people breathing, their heartbeats. Nothing.

She tried to open her eyes again, and this time her vision cleared.

She was at Derek's. The sparsely furnished space was familiar. She had no idea why she was here. She needed to find out who else was here. She needed to get out of here.

She shifted to sit up and every muscle in her body burned from the effort, making her gasp, then groan as the pain sunk deep into her bones.

She had barely managed to lift her head, but her head dropped down to the couch. She tried again and this time, couldn't even lift her head, a groan dragging from her.

"Just stay still."

Henley forced herself to turn her head enough to see Derek. He was on a chair near the couch, his dark eyes steady.

She ignored his advice and gathered everything she had within her to try again to push herself up to sitting with an agonized grunt. She made it halfway and would have collapsed back down if he hadn't moved to lift her the rest of the way. She struggled to catch her breath at the pain flowing through her, every limb shaking like a leaf from even that effort.

"Why am I here?" Her question came out weakly, not the demand she intended it to be.

"You were with Peter. At the gravel pit."

Henley stared at him blankly. Why had she been with Peter? Why at a gravel pit. What had…the fury she had felt. She remembered that. An overwhelming tsunami of rage that had swept her up. She felt the remembered emotion before she saw the memories in her mind. Explosions. Flames. She had completely lost control. She had almost been destroyed.

"He brought me here?" she asked.

"He told me where you were," Derek answered.

Ok. Henley didn't really care. She didn't care how she had ended up here. She just wanted…she wanted her life back. "I need to go," she said. She braced herself for the pain, marshaling whatever strength she could in her quivering legs and pushed off from the couch…tumbling forward and into Derek's arms.

She tried to push away from him, but couldn't even lift her arms. Her legs gave out under her and she was back on the couch, Derek gently lowering her back against the cushions.

"That might take some time," Derek said.

Henley tried to catch the weak breaths that even that small exertion had ramped up. "What happened to me?" she looked up at Derek from under her lashes, her hair in her face.

"Peter pushed you too far," Derek said. His jaw was tight and he didn't say anything more.

"So are my powers…" she lifted a hand, making it a couple inches off the couch and focused on building the heat until her hand dropped uselessly into her lap without any flame. "They're gone?" she asked hopefully. Was she herself again?

"There's not a lot of information about phoenixes." Derek pulled his chair slightly closer. His eyes were grim. "Lydia did some research. Your powers will be back as soon as you recover. You were just pushed too far."

Henley closed her eyes. Great. The shuddery breath that escaped her bordered on a sob.

"You should drink something," Derek said. He stood. Henley kept her eyes closed. She didn't try to hear what he was doing until his footsteps came back near her. "Here."

She opened her eyes and saw a glass of water in his hand. He set it aside and put an arm behind her, lifting her back up to sitting. Henley wasn't able to hold back the groan that forced out with the movement.

"You hurt?" Derek asked.

Henley looked up at him. He actually looked concerned. She studied him. He had been there when Scott and Stiles had her tied up. But he hadn't been the one who tied her up. He had pulled her from the lake, even when she was burning him. He had brought her to his apartment, tried to keep her safe—twice.

When she didn't say anything, Derek didn't push for an answer. He handed her the glass, then caught it when it slipped from her grip. He held the glass to her lips. Henley took a sip, then let her head drop back against the couch again.

She watched Derek silently as he set the glass aside. He didn't look intimidated by what she was, what she was capable of.

"Do you…are you healed?" she asked.

Derek turned back to her, a question on his face.

"When I burned you," she said, inwardly grimacing that she even had to say the words. Never in her life had she ever thought she would burn someone. "Are you healed?"

"It wasn't that bad."

"I burned you," she blurted out. "That's pretty bad."

Derek's lips twitched slightly. "I've been through worse."

Henley didn't want to think about that. She closed her eyes. Everything hurt. She was exhausted—more than exhausted. She was empty.

"It'll get easier."

She struggled to open her eyes, but the near coma-like sleep was pulling her under again. Derek's words were quiet, distant.

"You don't have to be on your own."

She wasn't sure if she really heard him say that or just wished it could be true, but the hands that settled her back down to lying on the couch were real. She wasn't on her own right now at least.

#