Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Beta'd by WithinHerHeart :)

Based off a requested for a Mafia AU on tumblr that kind of ran away from me and became multi chaptered.

Title taken from the war poem "Bannockburn" by Robert Burns.

Chapter I

This was a bad idea. This was almost certainly a bad idea. Why did no one else think it was a bad idea?

Stiles stood where he always did, at Scott's right, and even he could see all the places where they could get ambushed, where something could go terribly wrong. There could be snipers hiding in the shadows of the high ceiling. There could be enemies prepared to sneak up behind them, hiding in the corners the light can't reach, until the opportune moment. There could be a fricking bomb ready to go off at the order. Okay, it was a bit extreme. This was mafia violence, not terrorism, but if he were completely honest, he wouldn't put it past the Hunters to move out of the box.

In his experience, they were unpredictable killing machines that had no mercy or remorse about dragging innocent teenagers into their violence. They just didn't care, as long as it got the job done, and with the Pack being the Hunters main competition (although archenemies was probably a better description for the animosity between both sides) it was only logical to assume that taking out the majority of the Pack in one fell swoop would be an advantage.

They wouldn't though, Stiles was sure about that at least. They would want to play first, to prove they had outsmarted them. What's the point in killing the Pack, if the Hunters couldn't taunt them first? Besides, the Pack had been briefed and were on alert for anything. They didn't attack anyone until their guard was down, and that was unlikely to happen.

"They're late," Derek commented with a frustrated sigh, folding his arms across his chest. He was agitated, barely restraining his anger.

"Maybe they stood us up," Isaac suggested.

"Yes, they stood us up, and we should make like broken-hearted dates and make our way home to drown our troubles in ice cream," Stiles insisted hopefully.

Derek gave him an unimpressed look, and Scott suppressed a grin.

"No, they're coming," Scott said certainly, "They can't resist the chance to come and mock us."

Stiles sighed, deflating. "It just doesn't feel right. It feels…trap like."

"Everything feels like a trap to you," Erica pointed out.

"Yes, but how often am I right about these things?" Stiles reminded.

"He has a point," Cora agreed, folding her arms across her chest and mimicked her elder brother's position.

"Enough, we're here. We know the plan," Derek said firmly.

"Yeah, but they'll have one too," Boyd murmured.

Whatever debate that would have commenced was cut short by the sound of sliding metal on the other side of the warehouse lot. Street lights shone through the cracked door and the silhouettes of approaching figures. Automatically, the Pack fell into their formations, hackles rising. However divided they might be on what they were doing, when faced with an adversary, they were a unit, however long it had taken them to get to this stage.

Kate was at the head, as she usually was, and Stiles could see the slow tense of Derek's shoulders. He wasn't completely sure about their past together, although he knew it had something to do with the destruction of the Hales, the leading family in the Pack. He had asked about it a few times, thought he might be able to bug the truth out of Derek, but the Alpha only got angry and frustrated, snapped at him and walked away before he could do (much) damage. Stiles guessed it was a sensitive subject, for Derek anyway. Kate always looked oddly smug when she encountered the Pack Alpha.

"Derek, long time no see," she smirked, "I was beginning to think you didn't want to see me."

"I don't," Derek said shortly.

Her expression was one of feigned insult. "Derek, I'm shocked. And with our history…"

"We're here to talk about the bodies," Scott interjected, drawing attention skilfully away from Derek before his control snapped.

Kate's eyes moved to the younger man. "And you must be…Scott, right? I remember you, hard to forget those puppy dog eyes. Aren't you a little…young to be an Alpha?"

"The bodies, Kate," he pushed insistently.

She pouted. "Boo, not even a little foreplay before we get down to the nasty."

"You're avoiding the question," Stiles folded his arms across his chest.

"As far as I'm aware, you haven't asked me a question yet," Kate's voice was tight.

"You want a question. Fine. What do you know about the bodies?" Derek questioned.

"What bodies?" Chris, Kate's elder brother, asked, stepping forward. It was clear by the confusion on his face that he was oblivious to what had happened.

"Amanda Young, Eric Taylor and George Wilson," Lydia recited from memory, "They were found three weeks apart within our territory lines."

"And it wasn't us," Scott added.

"And what makes you think it was us?" Gerard, their father, asked, a personification of 'relaxed', which set Stiles' teeth on edge. Why was he so content where he was now?

Derek shrugged. "There's only two of us. These were mafia styled hits. It's got to be one of us."

"Is this way of confessing?" Kate tilted her head, curiosity seeping into her voice.

Oh yes, something was wrong. The Hunters portrayed the image of people who preyed on the predator, hence their name. There were some shaky truces that were still in place and one of the reasons the Pack and the Hunters never met like this was because it only brewed hatred between them. Hate leads to war and fights that wipe them all out, because once started, there was only one way it was going to stop. "Do you confess?" she said. They're looking for a reason to start full out war, he realised.

"No, it's our way of figuring out what the hell is going on," Scott corrected.

"Like you said, it could only be one of us," Kate took a step forward, "If not, who else?"

"We don't know," Derek admitted.

It was then that Stiles interrupted, drawing attention to him. He had to stall and get them out of there quickly. What else could he do? "And obviously you don't, so it's been fun and stuff, but we should go now. Maybe, uh, step back and regroup when we have something right? We'll get them!"

The jerk of his hands urged the pack backwards and automatically, the Omegas and the rest of the Betas did as asked. Derek turned to him with a sharp gaze, silently demanding to know what the hell was happening. Stiles' eyes darted to the corners and back to the Hunters. Realisation clicked in Derek's eyes and Scott caught on quickly enough, although he had already moved to join Stiles' side at the first gesture.

"Going so soon?" Gerard arched an eyebrow.

Kate's grin was wicked. "Yeah, the party is just getting started."

As if that was the order, guns were drawn and shots were fired. A trap, Stiles had warned, one they weren't expecting, but it doesn't mean they weren't prepared for it. Battle fields were places they had grown used to.

Boyd was the best shot, he took out two hunters on his retreat to higher ground. Scott moved forward into the fray of bodies, his focus on Chris Argent, adjusting the aim every time the man moved. Derek's eyes were trained on Kate, hatred burning in his gaze with all the emotions of a personal vendetta.

Lydia ducked and avoided the bullets. She wasn't a shooter, more involved in hand to hand combat, and with a silent order from Scott, she sunk into the shadows and made an attempt to manoeuvre around the fray of bullets to get behind. Once behind them, Stiles knew that none of the Hunters would ever see her coming. She was like a cat. A strange redheaded cat goddess.

Stiles focused his attention on the foot soldiers closing in, shooting at ankles and hands, legs and arms. He never aimed anywhere vital. Maybe it was how he had grown up, with his father, the cop, but he never had any intention of killing someone, not unless it was the last option he had to protect those he cared about. He saw Isaac wince when he got shot in the shoulder but damn, the boy kept fighting, taking out his assailant with three shots.

Cora aimed at Gerard, her face set with determination that Stiles knew was just as personal as Derek's fight with Kate. She wasn't as good a shot as her brother, there was still a lot to learn in that field. If she could get closer – and Stiles could see she was trying to do that – she could probably take him out with her knives. They were the first thing she mastered and it was the only thing she loved to fight with. But it meant getting close, too close to someone already armed and willing to shoot, whether she's still a teenager or not. Gerard's face was twisted with what looked like thinly veiled amusement, covered up with sickening pleasure. There was always something about Gerard that never sat right with Stiles, but now he had realised why. It was because he enjoyed this too much. People's pain, people's suffering, most importantly, the Hales.

Cora wasn't going to get close enough to cut him. Gerard wasn't going to let her. The Hunters had planned this from the beginning. They'd chosen this specific location, this specific time where no one would be around. It wasn't just about taking down the Pack, because that would be too easier. Where would the fun be in that, right? This was about taking some of them down, to leave them weak and vulnerable and ultimately, mourning their dead. Derek mourning his dead.

He and Cora never really got along. They'd butted heads probably more times than Stiles and Derek had. They were just too different, in personality, in skills, in experience. Jaded from the loss of her family, Cora didn't trust easily whereas Stiles was happy-go-lucky. If his experience had hardened him, and he was sure that it had, he never showed it. (Also, Stiles couldn't help but have a problem with the fact that Cora "wasn't a dessert person" because that was just strange and creepy and wrong).

But they were pack, family, whether either of them would admit it out loud, and Stiles refused to let her die.

Gerard aimed for her hand first, the gun falling from her hand upon impact, leaving her open. That's when Stiles stepped in.

And by stepped in, he means stepped in.

He pushed Cora out of the way with the full weight of his body. The gun fired, and he let out a grunt with it hit him. Right shoulder, went straight through; missed the bone thank god. It could have been so much worse. He held onto the wound, wincing in pain when he made to sit up. Cora was staring at him, but he didn't have time. Scrambling with his gun, he aimed and fired as quickly as he could, careful of Lydia's movement behind the men and women. His aim wasn't as good as it usually was – he got a few men in the arm, in the chest – and he caught Gerard at the neck.

Derek and Kate's fight was hand to hand now, Derek holding onto Kate's neck tightly in the crook of his elbow. She lashed out violently, hands scratching along his cheek, forcing him to let her go quickly. She slid across the floor, sprawled, breathing heavy and steeled ice in her gaze. Derek's fists clenched and he took a step forward threateningly.

"Derek, we need to go, now," Scott shouted the order. The shooting had died down, most of the entourage having taken hits. Chris seemed to be the only one that was standing up straight and unharmed, and yet he didn't try to fire. Stiles guessed he felt the same way about the fighting as Scott did.

Derek slowed but didn't stop. Kate made a beckoning gesture, taunting him forward.

"Derek, seriously, now," Scott tried again, "This is unnecessary death."

"No deaths are unnecessary," Gerard exclaimed in return. The hard grip he had on his gun made it seem almost as if he had no idea that he was bleeding from his neck. Must have just been a graze, Stiles mused, perhaps a little disappointedly.

Stiles' vision was blurring a little at the edges, from pain mostly. Although getting shot was something of a common occurrence in their field of work, it wasn't exactly something he was used to. His pain threshold was low. He moved shakily to his feet, stumbling a little, and didn't loosen the pressure on his hand, the blood now seeping through the fingers.

"Derek, this is a battle for later," Boyd was at their Alpha's side.

"Besides, that bitch isn't worth it," Erica retorted. Kate's eyes narrowed at the girl.

Derek had stopped now. It was clear by the tension in his body that he wanted to just lurch forward and jump, but he resisted. He glanced over his shoulder at his pack, sweeping over each of them individually. Isaac was supporting himself against a wall, and Erica was bleeding from her thigh. Boyd was unharmed, it seemed, and Scott and Cora were torn up. His eyes landed on Stiles, who smiled as his nothing was wrong. Of course, Derek didn't buy that, not that he could ignore the blood, and his eyes narrowed with pain and frustration and Stiles just knew when they got back to the Den, he was going to be scolded and then babied.

Derek was such a Den Mother sometimes.

He turned back to the Argents, his gaze hard. "Deal with your wounded and your dead. We'll deal with ours. This doesn't need to descend into war."

"Oh, sweet clueless Derek, you don't get it do you?" Kate stood up slowly, the sneer in her voice even though it was weak from being pushed about, "There's already a war. There has been for years. We've just graduated from a cold war into something a little…hotter," she smirked dangerously.

"But it doesn't have to end tonight," Chris interrupted, taking a step forward. "Do what you have to do and we'll do the same. No more gun fire tonight."

Derek nodded jerkily in response and Scott dipped his head in a sigh of expectance. A not all so mutual parting it seemed, judging by the thunderous looks on Kate and Gerard's face, but it was a pause to a battle that was sure to be finished and soon. But it was enough.

They got back to the cars unharmed. Erica, Boyd, Scott and Cora went in one car; Stiles, Derek, Lydia and Isaac in another. The wheels screeched as they drove away, just above the speed limit.

"What the hell happened?" Derek gritted out, his eyes darting from the road to Stiles in the passenger's seat every second or so. His grip flexed on the steering wheel.

"Relax dude, it's barely a graze," Stiles tried to soothe.

Derek snorted in response. "You've bleeding on the upholstery. That's not a graze. Damn it, Stiles."

"I was protecting Cora," Stiles defended himself, "Gerard would have killed her if I hadn't stepped in."

"You didn't have to step in front of the bullet to save her," Derek argued.

"I didn't exactly have time to think of any other way, okay?" Stiles defended, "It was instinct!"

"You could have died, pretty crappy instincts to me," he grumbled in reply, and Stiles' eyes narrowed angrily.

"So what, it is okay for you to take a bullet to safe us but we can't do jack shit to save each other?" Stiles laughed mockingly, "Of course that's how it works but it's not as if you're our leader or something, and that was don't need you to, I don't know, lead us."

Derek's knuckles turned white. "You know I-"

"Just in case either of you are wondering," Isaac interjected and waved his free hand, the one that Lydia wasn't working on, slightly, "I'm okay too – ow!"

He flinched, his hand jerkily away. Lydia huffed, gripping the hand tightly and glared darkly. "Keep still pup, I'm almost done."

Isaac returned the glare. "You know you could be gentle about it," he complained.

Lydia smiled with fake sweetness. "Now why would I do that?" She pulled away, "There, I've put pressure on the wound. It should last until we get back to the Den and then we can get Deaton to check you out. Once he gives you the all clear, I can kill you for scaring me like that."

His glare let up slightly and he barked out a breathy laugh. "And I thought you didn't scare easily."

Stiles groaned and thumped his head against the back of the chair. "New rule: no flirting in the back of the SUV when I've just been shot."

"Is that jealousy I hear?" Isaac teased.

Stiles scoffed. "God no, no offense Lyds, I love ya, but why on earth would I want to date someone who could kill me in my sleep when I piss them off? Too much tension there, you know."

"You have no idea what else I could do Stilinski," Lydia smirked.

Stiles' nose wrinkled at the implication behind the words. "Ew, gross, no. I don't need that kind of information."

"I'd like some information," Derek announced suddenly, diverting the attention of the car back to him. One of his hands had realised the wheel and was resting on the rear view mirror, something he had adjusted. His eyes were narrowed. "Can anyone tell me why there's a girl in the trunk of my car?"

Lydia shifted in her seat. "Yeah, about that…"