A/N: I love how I kind of just dropped Sheriff out of the picture. Like "Poof bye bye don't need you anymore so you can sleep." Oh, and this is the second to final chapter. I guess the final chapter is sort of a wrap up, so it's not super important.

Chapter Ten: Molotov It

Dean clenched tightly to the flaming stick, and Sam began to rush forward. Stiles followed after, holding Lydia close to him. Allison and Isaac were next, and Scott and Derek last. The forest was slightly illuminated by the orange glowing light.

But it wasn't pleasant, it was eerie and it made everyone uneasy it seemed.

Everything was dead silent. No noises. Nothing except their own footsteps and shaky breaths.

Scott kept his eyes peeled to everything around him, and his ears open. He wouldn't let anyone else get hurt, not if he could help it. Over his dead body would anyone in his pack be harmed again…

A skittering sound rushed around them, faster than a blink of an eye. The werewolves unsheathed their claws and fangs, and Dean raised the molotov.

The demon came from nowhere, running right into Scott, knocking him hard to the ground. The werewolf groaned, and leapt back to his feet as quickly as he could. Then it came from behind him, knocking him forward.

"It's taking us out one by one." Sam stated the obvious. Stiles rushed and went back to back with Scott.

"Stiles, what are you doing?" Scott barked. Derek got close to the two. Stiles shrugged. "I don't really know. Shut up and pay attention."

The demon came from above, knocking all three boys to the ground. Dean ran forward with the flame in his hand, but the demon pushed forward and back into the shadow. The boys sat up quickly.

Scott climbed to his feet and began to run. He had to get it isolated if they wanted to kill it.

Just as he predicted, the demon came from the darkness and arms outstretched, it grabbed Scott by the shoulders and knocked him down for the last time, quickly moving itself to strangling him.

Dean was looking in the wrong direction, it was too dark to see anything. Scott reached out for the molotov, but it was impossible to reach near twenty feet away.

Stiles peered into the darkness, and saw Scott. Without thinking the consequences, he grabbed the molotov from Dean's hand. The hunter was screaming at Stiles to stop, to not waste it. But Stiles threw.

The torch spun and hit it's target, the demon. Scott shoved it off and backed up next to Stiles, both gasping and staring at the flaming, now dead, demon.

"Nice work." Scott huffed. Stiles held out a fist, and the two fist bumped before turning and walking away.

Dean was shocked, frozen to his spot with an angry expression on his face. He stomped forward, grabbing Stiles by the collar of his shirt. "You crazy kid? You could have missed!"

Stiles' mouth was agape. "Dude, I hit it perfectly. And besides, your ass was facing the wrong way!" he paused. "Besides, I'm a long suffering Mets fan. Obviously, I can throw."

Dean released him, and ruffled his hair playfully. "Yeah, sure."

A/N: So for those who don't know…Dylan O'Brien (the adorable little derp), has a YouTube account. And one of his videos: ( watch?v=3h8MclMHYIQ) he explains how he is a hardcore Mets fan, and everything just goes downhill from there. Just watch the video, it's gold.

God, if Dylan deletes that, I'm gonna go all out on the dude.