Fuck this kid was fast. Dean crashed through the woods, chasing a figure just far enough ahead to make it impossible to get a sure shot. Why didn't he grab the rifle? This would be far less exhausting if he just opted for the long range option, but no, he went for subtlety.
Dean knew Sam had a shotgun and was somewhere off to his right. In the brief moment after hearing a howl off the side of the road, Dean signaled to Sam to go long to flank their prey. They'd been chasing the wolf half way up the Californian coast, following a string of 'strange animal deaths'. It wasn't getting away this time, Dean pushed his legs faster, there wasn't going to be another dead body.
When Dean saw a flash of blond hair off to his left, he felt his gut drop out. He realized too late that this was a trap, cursing himself and trying to swerve to the right -
Something fell on him from above and he crashed to the forest floor, hard. Even with the air knocked out of his lungs, Dean managed to keep his grip on his pistol and tried to roll over to dislodge whatever hand jumped on him. He got a snarl for his trouble and a horrible pain when a knee drove into his back. He went still.
"Drop it," a low, feminine voice said.
Dean heard a distant gunshot and tried to get up again. A clawed hand gripped the wrist of the hand still clinging to his handgun and Dean grunted when he felt the bones crack. His hand let go of the gun.
"Wow!" A young male voice called out nearby, huffing a little bit. "That was awesome!"
"Stiles… get the gun and give me the cuffs," the girl perched on Dean's back said, clearly not impressed.
"Fine, fine." A bare human foot kicked the gun farther away from Dean's grip and a hand followed to pick it up. "You need to learn to celebrate the little things in life, Ana. Like how perfect that worked out just now." Dean heard some rustling and the sound of metal moving. He felt the cold of the cuffs against his wrists, and couldn't help wince when they were tightened to the point of pain even on his uninjured hand.
"We're not out of the woods yet, Stiles." The girl, Ana, said. Her tone didn't betray any sense of humor, but from the snicker Dean heard he guessed it was not missed by Stiles. "Erica?"
"When you stage-dived she ran off in the other direction, towards the shot," Stiles said, humor slipping from his voice.
Ana said nothing for a moment, but Dean felt the weight on his back shift. "You better hope that was a miss," Ana said icily. "Ok, get him covered," Ana told Stiles.
"Aye-aye, comrade." Dean's limited view of the forest floor was completely blacked out when dark piece of cloth was looped over his head. "Alright, up on your feet old man!"
"Old man?" Dean said, indignant. He was hoisted up none-to-gently.
"Oh so he can talk!" Stiles said.
"Stop teasing the prisoner, Stiles." Dean dug in his heels when he was nudged to walk.
"Are you seriously gonna play this game?" Stiles asked in disbelief. "Don't make me say it."
"Please don't, he'll enjoy it too much," Ana muttered.
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," Stiles said, his voice steel.
Dean heard Ana make an exasperated sigh and tug of the cuffs behind Dean's back, shooting pain up his arms. "I wouldn't test her, man. She'd drag you outta here by those cuffs. She's had a hard day."
In the end, Dean ended up stumbling out of the woods. Stiles lead the way, occasionally pausing. Finally, Dean tripped against something solid and found his feet on solid, even ground. He heard a car door creak open and was shoved up into the back seat of some kind of SUV, judging by how high he had to step up to get it. He heard a muffled conversation before the doors opened up front.
"You're driving test is tomorrow, you need the practice," Stiles said from the direction of the passenger seat. Dean heard a seat belt click into place.
"I'd really like you to not remind me," Ana muttered, shutting the driver's side door. "I'm gonna fail it."
"Nonsense! You've had the best teacher."
Ana snorted, "don't toot your own horn."
"Yes! Car puns!" The vehicle bounced slightly. As the engine growled to a start, Dean wondered what fresh hell he was in and what had he done to deserve this.
Dean was going to be sick. He didn't want to believe it, but knew that the steady tide of nausea wasn't going to dissipate at this point. He fell over when the vehicle jerked and swallowed hard.
"Don't you dare vomit in my car," Stiles called. "Now, Ana, maybe instead of speeding up and slamming on the breaks when you approach a stop light, you could try gradually coming to a stop?" Stiles suggested.
"That's not what I'm doing?" Ana asked, her voice a tiny squeak.
"Not really. Ok, gotta turn right so-" there was a screech of brakes followed by a nearly ninety degree turn that sent Dean off the back seat and knocked him against something hard, and blissfully out of consciousness.
"Huh. Well, that was better!" Stiles said, genuinely impressed.
"Stiles I knocked him out," Ana whispered, letting go of the jeep's steering wheel.
"True, but hey nobody important or innocent got hurt!"
"I hit the stop sign."
"A mere love-tap. Also, you remembered to stop when you hit it, so there's that."
Ana groaned and slid out of the driver's seat. She strongly considered canceling her test tomorrow as she opened the back door and pulled the unconscious form out. God this guy was a freaking giant. "Stiles, can you help me with this?"
"Sure, just get the doors will you?" Stiles reached down and hoisted the hunter up.