With everything going crazy in Beacon Hills it was really only a matter of time before more hunters came snooping. Stiles was honestly surprised it had taken them this long to notice the seemingly endless string of homicides all within a few miles of each other and all showing distinctive signs of the supernatural.
So when a group of five hunters showed up on the reserve he wasn't even surprised. Even Scott in all his obliviousness seemed to have realised this was coming because his only response to their sudden appearance was a gentle exhale.
Derek stepped forwards to meet them, apparently having decided that he should be the one to handle this; Stiles couldn't help but scoff slightly. No one paid him the slightest attention anyway.
"You know, for a pack of killers you really weren't very hard to find," one of the hunters taunted, their overly round face scrunching in disgust. He was clearly the leader, on the wrong side of thirty and the beginnings of a beer belly nudging out the bottom of his t-shirt. Even Stiles could smell the sweat on his skin.
"We haven't hurt anyone," Derek rebuffed softly but his fists were clenched and his eyes were glued to the weapons in the hunters' hands. Three of them were carrying loaded crossbows while the leader and the petit woman on his left were both holding hand guns. A rifle was slung across the woman's shoulder.
"We know what you are," the man spat back, taking half a step forwards. "All you know how to do is kill!"
The alpha growled slightly at the approach but he was doing a remarkable job keeping himself calm - Stiles was actually impressed. "I thought you hunters had a code. You don't go after anyone without proof that they're a danger to humans!"
"The proof is in what you are!" One of the other hunters spoke up. He looked like the youngest of the lot, barely twenty with freckles scattered across his cheeks. The crossbow looked far too large for his slender frame but he held it steady. "You're monsters!"
"We haven't done anything!" Isaac shouted back, claws extending. The leader's eyes shot to his hands and fixed there, a foul smile curving his lips.
"Isaac," Scott warned softly from where he stood next to Stiles, unwilling to move away from his defenceless friend. "This doesn't have to end in violence." He addressed that to the hunters but they just laughed.
"That's all your kind are capable of," the woman sneered. She raised her gun to aim directly at Derek's heart, unwavering in her certainty.
"Bullets? Seriously?" It would seem that Derek had given up on trying to diffuse the situation, claws appearing at the ends of his fingertips and his eyes flashing red. Reacting to the change Scott and Isaac both phased completely, obscuring their human faces behind their wolves. The other four hunters raised their weapons in unison, so much so that it almost looked rehearsed. Stiles snorted to himself.
"Maybe they won't kill a thing like you," she conceded, a wicked smile flickering across her face. "But there's more than one way to hurt you."
And then... then Stiles didn't know what had happened. He heard the gun go off clearly, a sharp snap of sound but it said a lot for what his life had become that the noise didn't even phase him. He barely blinked. What did confuse him was the way the woman had jerked when she'd pulled the trigger. No, not when. Before.
Scott roared beside him, throwing himself towards the hunters with an abandon Stiles wanted to hit him for. An arrow whipped past the beta's shoulder, gouging the flesh but he didn't even notice. Isaac was there too, sending the young man with the crossbow flying backwards with a howl that reverberated through Stiles' bones.
Something was wrong. There was a darkness crowding on the edge of Stiles' vision that he couldn't quite understand and that fled from his sight when he tried to catch a better glimpse. His hands were shaking. In fact his whole body was shaking he realised with a start, trembling so badly he felt one of his legs give out under him when it couldn't take his weight all of a sudden.
'What?' He thought to himself as he crumpled. Nothing was making sense and his normally unstoppable brain just wasn't kicking into gear. Ice gripped his limbs as he felt himself tumble the rest of the way to the soft earth, the smell of mud and leaves filling his senses; somewhere along the way his eyes had closed.
"Stiles!" The shout was so close beside him that he jumped, his eyes fluttering open in surprise. God, he was just so tired. Derek's face swam into focus just above him, blood splattered across his features but apparently unhurt - Stiles would deny the swell of relief he felt - though his eyes were crinkled with concern. "Stiles you can't go to sleep! Stay awake, you hear me?"
'Yes,' he wanted to say. 'I hear you.' But the words wouldn't come. Something bubbled on his lips that tasted like blood but surely it couldn't be. He wasn't hurt, was he?
There was an iron band around his lungs that was so reminiscent of a panic attack but he wasn't panicking. He was actually remarkably calm considering he had no idea what the hell was going on. Scott's head appeared beside Derek's, his human face torn through with what could only be pure terror and tears streaking from the corners of his eyes.
"Scott," Derek said, his voice urgent. "You and Isaac have to clear up here. I'll get him to the hospital but we have to go. Now!" Hands were on Stiles then, behind his shoulders and under his legs, hauling him from the ground with a lurch that sent his head spinning in all directions. There was a pain just below his ribcage, burning hot yet freezing cold all at once and sharp as a dagger.
'Or a bullet,' he realised suddenly. 'Have I been shot?'
Still the panic didn't come. It was warm in his perch of Derek's arms (he wasn't going to begin to question why he wasn't seizing up with nervous energy at the contact) and he was starting to drift again, lulled by the rhythmic motion.
"Stiles," Derek hissed at him, purposefully jolting the teen to startle him awake for a second time. "Don't you ever do as you're told?"
He wanted to make a witty comeback to that but he just couldn't find the words. Everything was slipping now in a way that wasn't all together unpleasant.
'People always make such a big thing of dying,' he reflected. 'It's really not so bad once you try it.'
There was a noise around him that he couldn't place: it was either Derek growling or the Camaro but everything was too foggy for him to try and work out which. Whichever it was, it was aggravating what could only be a bullet wound which was something he was not okay with.
He groaned aloud, the noise distorted by the blood that was clogging his throat and dribbling down his chin. He must look like a wreck.
"Stiles? Can you hear me?" It was strange, but he still could, clear as a bell. He could remember reading somewhere that when you're passing out your hearing is the last sense to leave you... or something like that. It just seemed like so long ago. "We're almost at the hospital. You're going to be alright, I swear to you. Stiles?"
'Derek's worried about me,' he thought, wishing he could remember how to smile. 'He's actually worried. Someone needs to take a picture.'
It was the last thought he had before the car hit a bump in the road and the shockwave of pain pulled him under, dragging him into silence.
Never written Teen Wolf before; I only really started watching the show a few weeks ago and I love it. Especially Derek and Stiles (though as always I won't be writing slash - don't read anything into that, I just prefer to write canon pairings) and so I think I might play around with them for a while. I just wrote this because I was bored and wanted something to do. I'm not really sure what to make of it.