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I stared out the window of Stiles' jeep, as we drove back to the Martin residence. I frowned as I tried to work out everything that had happened tonight. There's something that's bothering me. It's nagging me – picking at me. It's like I know something feels out of place, but I can't put my finger on it. We slowed to a stop at a stoplight and I heard the familiar rumble of the Impala, behind us. That's when it clicked. I pulled out my phone and dialed Dean's number.

"This couldn't wait five minutes for us to get to the house?" He asked me in a gruff, but amused voice. I sighed.

"What changed?" I asked him.

"What do you mean?" He asked, clearly confused by my outburst.

"What changed? If Crowley is behind this, what made him put you on the dead-pool? Think about it. Has he ever put a hit on your heads before? From what I've heard, that's not really his style. It doesn't make sense. I'm not saying that he's not in cahoots with someone who is behind it, but something had to have changed." I explained. I heard a sharp intake of breath.

"You're right." He breathed, like he realized the same thing, as soon as I said it. "He's pulled a lot of bullshit, but he's never done this."

"So, what changed?" I asked him, again. He was silent on the other end.

"I don't think it's about us." Dean finally said.

"Then, what is it about?"

"He's trying to regain his control over hell. Someone else – Abaddon, a Knight from Hell – is challenging his reign as King of Hell. What better way to make a statement, than to kill the Winchesters and the other hunters that have been a pain in his ass for years?" He thought out loud. He's right. It makes sense, anyway.

"You might be onto something." I told him.

"Tonight just keeps getting better and better. I need some friggin' pie." He sighed.

"Call Deaton and let him know about your theory. Even if it turns out not to be true, it's better to be safe than sorry. He'll check it out. And I'm pretty sure there's still pie in the fridge at home."

"Don't joke about pie."

"I would never." I assured him, before hanging up. I leaned my face against the car window and sighed. A nap would be nice, but I don't see that happening anytime soon. John asked Parrish to call it a night early, and come to his place. Lydia agreed to meet with us. From what I've heard, he seems to respond the best to Lydia, whenever he's come to face to face with the supernatural and someone has to help explain it.

I carried my bag into Stiles' house. He had his arm around me and my face was half buried into his shoulder. It's nice. It's comforting. He's comforting. We saw John waiting in the living room for us. He gestured us over and I saw food set out on plates for us. Honestly, I'm not even close to being hungry, but if we're going to be up all night, then I probably need something to keep me going.

Stiles took my bag from me and leaned down to kiss me. His lips landed on the corner of my mouth, before disappearing. He carried our things upstairs. I took a seat next to John. I set my grimoire down on the table and picked up a plate.

"Thank you." I told him, gesturing to the plate. He nodded.

"My son cares about you." John breathed. The way he said it almost sounded like an accusation, more than an observation.

"I care about him." I assured him, suddenly even more disinterested in the food.

"When Stiles cares about someone, it's almost impossible to get him to stop. He's loyal to a fault and he'd do anything in his power to protect that person." John continued. I looked at him. It's too soon to tell what point he's trying to make. "He was infatuated with Lydia for years. I started to wonder if I was going to find him standing outside of her window taking pictures, it got so bad." The sheriff laughed. I felt the corners of my mouth quirked up. "I'm glad he got past that. From what I can tell, you've been good for him. I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that I understand your relationship with my son, because I don't. I'm not good with all of this paranormal business, like you kids seem to be. Despite the hell that keeps coming back to this town, he's starting to look more like himself again and sometimes, he even seems happy. For a while there, I was wondering if I would ever see Stiles happy again. I don't know the specifics of what you went through, while you were in Virginia, but my son tells me that you two have had some very similar experiences. Whatever you're doing for him, I appreciate it. It's almost like he remembered his purpose in life, again. He was so caught up in what he lost when… He couldn't see what he still had left. It's a blessing to see him have life, again. I… Bonnie… Thank you. Just, thank you."

John was hugging me, before I could fully comprehend that he was thanking me, not giving me the fifth degree. My arms went around him, automatically. It didn't surprise me how natural it felt. He is Stiles' father, after all. They're a lot alike, in most respects.

"I think he's helping me, a lot more than I've helped him." I told him, truthfully. John chuckled. I felt the vibrations run through me. He mumbled something that sounded a lot like, 'Too much alike.'

"Then keep helping each other." He tried. I nodded.

"Deal," I agreed.

"I see how it is. I leave for two seconds, and you steal my dad. I bet you couldn't wait to replace your spastic son. I mean, jeez. No love for Stiles. It's cool. I get it. Just remember that I know all of your dirty secrets and I still know where you keep your baby pictures, Dad. I bet everyone down at the Sheriff's Department would get a kick out of that. I can see it now – Sheriff breaks the world record for being mocked. I'm just getting started. You don't even want to know what I can do with your –' Stiles rants.

"Kid, get over here and give me a damn hug, before I change my mind about letting Bonnie stay."

"Whatever you say, Dad." Stiles retorted, cheekily.

"Where is he? I thought you said that Parrish was leaving the station two hours ago." Lydia sighed, clearly annoyed. John shrugged, helplessly. He pulled out his phone and tried to call Parrish, but got his voicemail, yet again.

"I'm going to the station. Something doesn't feel right about this." John decided, standing up.

"Dad, you can't go alone. I'm going with you." Stiles told him.

"We'll all go with you." Jackson chimed in.

"Fine. Let's go."

I waited in the front of the station with Lydia. Jackson and Stiles went with John to check the station for Parrish. No one had seen him, since he told John that he was heading over. This isn't right. I have a gnawing feeling of dread building in my stomach. It's not going away.

The door to the station slammed open and a very soot covered Parrish stumbled inside. He looks like someone locked him in a room with way too many candles, but he looks otherwise unscathed. Does it have to do with his ability? What is he?

"You!" Parrish yelled, gesturing to one of the deputies. The officer blanched. Parrish lunged at him and the deputy pulled a gun on him and started to fire. I looked at the scene unfold before me, terrified. I channeled my focus on blocking the bullets from hitting Parrish. He didn't seem to notice that he wasn't being hit. He started to pummel the other guy. The guys came back to the front and pulled Parrish off of the deputy. "You locked me in my car and set it on fire!" Parrish shouted.

"Is this true?!" John demanded. The deputy didn't even have enough sense to lie. He just nodded, frantically, and was taken back to one of the cells. "Get him some clothes." John told Stiles. He nodded and ran off to get some. Parrish turned to face me and Lydia. For the first time, he seemed to notice that the rest of us were here. His eyes look just like Kira's. They're exactly the same color. Is he a fox, too? A kitsune?

"You were in a fire and you're not even hurt?" I asked him, gently. His eyes flickered down his body and he nodded, slowly, like he just realized this himself, too.

"What are you?" Lydia asked, out-loud. He just shrugged.

"I don't know." He admitted.

"His eyes are like Kira's." I told her.

"You think he's a kitsune?" She asked me.

"I don't know." I sighed.

"Electricity doesn't affect Kira… Fire didn't affect Parrish… What if… What if he's a different kind of kitsune?" She asked me.

"There are different kinds?" I asked her. That's news to me. She nodded.

"It's something that we learned from Kira's mom, earlier this year… when Stiles was possessed. Bonnie, what if he's a fire kitsune?"