"What do we do?" Lydia whispered, glancing around as if someone was about to pop out of a corner. She was the least equipped to deal with a fight.
"Go upstairs and hide. Call anyone you can think of," Stiles instructed, pointing to the rickety looking spiral staircase. If it didn't fall as she climbed it, that would be a miracle. She sprinted off in that direction, keeping to the edge of the room as much as possible.
"Where do you want me?" Allison asked, crouching down into a fighting position. If it was just the two of them against who knows how many people, they were screwed. Allison could take care of herself, but Stiles was more likely to bring down their average.
"I gotta get those weapons," Stiles moaned, because of course they'd need them right after he got rid of them.
"Not so fast," a voice called out from the door as it suddenly slid open. Allison quickly jumped down from her spot on the steps, dragging a limp Scott closer to the others so she could stand over him protectively. There were four men, three of them with guns pointed into the room. Stiles resisted the urge to look back and check if Lydia had been able to hide, not wanting to give away her position if she'd been successful.
"Who are you?" Stiles growled, trying to channel Derek. He was not a skinny, floppy teen, he was the defender of this pack.
"You don't remember me?" the man in front asked, stepping unsteadily into the room. He looked like background actor number two, why the hell would Stiles recognize him? "Seems unfair, since I'm reminded of my encounter with you all every day."
"Maybe you've got the wrong people? I'm pretty good with faces and I think I'd remember one as stupid as yours," Stiles hissed. The man may have had a limp, but his arm strength was all there. Stiles learned that first hand when the man's fist cracked against his cheekbone. Stiles went down hard, barely missing falling on top of Derek as he clutched his throbbing face.
"Hey!" Allison shouted, freezing when the guns in the room shifted in her direction.
"Don't think you're not going to get what's coming to you too!" the man snapped, pointing his gun in her face for emphasis. "If your grandfather could see you now, working with these freaks, he'd be disgusted!" The mention of Gerard made everything slot into place.
"You're the guy from the police station," Stiles muttered, glaring up at him. "The one who was sent to murder Isaac."
"The one who was entrusted to make the world a better place!" the man sneered, stalking over to where the other teen was lying helpless. "Instead, all I got was a bum leg and a traumatic brain injury." Then the man took that bum leg and kicked Isaac straight in the face with it. Stiles could hear the crunch of Isaac's nose from where he was sitting. The force of the assault pushed Isaac onto his back, but other than that, there was no reaction.
"Hey asshole, I'm the one who shot you in the leg!" Allison hissed, balling her fists as she visibly ached to use her training to take out these bastards.
"Maybe I should return the favor?" the man suggested, shifting his gun to point at her leg. Stiles had to do something to make sure Allison wouldn't get hurt. Not for some knight in shining armor, protect the women and children sense, but because she could kick much more ass than he could and he needed her to help save him.
"You work for the Argents, but you're gonna threaten one of them? Don't the women lead the family? Isn't she like your boss now?" Stiles smirked, feeling an odd mix of satisfaction and terror as the gun moved to point at him instead. If he didn't come out of this thing with a full pack membership, he was going to be pissed.
"That name is mud now, after what they've done. Turning their back on their own kind to help these things. Once everyone in the community knows the truth, they'll all be the enemy, along with the beasts!" he spat, shaking with rage.
"And what happened to your code, huh? You act like you're so high and mighty, but you come here to kill a bunch of kids who haven't hurt anyone?"
"It's in their nature to kill!"
"Says the guy with the gun. And the poison. And I bet that little spell was yours too," Stiles said mockingly. If he was going to die, he was damn sure not going to be lectured beforehand. Not by this hypocrite.
"That was my friend here," the man grinned, jerking his chin in the direction of the man who'd come in without a gun. "If you all can get a little help from your emissaries, why can't I reach across the aisle for some of my own?" Stiles felt the first spark of hope bubble in his chest in a while, but he couldn't let it show. If they brought the person who made the curse, they could reverse it. They just had to incapacitate three armed men.
Of course, that wasn't the only thing that started to bubble up. Isaac just so happened to choose right now to start choking on the blood that was pooling in his throat from his broken nose. He was still flat on his back and didn't have the wherewithal to even roll his head to the side.
"Isaac!" Stiles gasped, lurching in his direction only to be stopped by a gun in his face.
"Don't move!" the man growled.
"But he's dying!" Stiles shouted, his body trembling as he tried to keep himself from moving.
"Yeah, that's the point," the man laughed, turning to watch the scene with glee. Stiles couldn't let Isaac go out like that. They were all meant to go out in a blaze of glory, if anything. Drowning in your own blood from a broken nose was too lame. Isaac would definitely find a way to haunt his ass if Stiles let that happen, and he wouldn't blame him.
"You have to do all this to take us out, you coward? Couldn't come in here and fight man to man?" Stiles snapped, trying to naturally inch his way closer in his flailing fury. "Is this really gonna satisfy you? Taking everyone out while they're defenseless? Too weak to do it with your team, with your guns?"
"Shut up."
"Hurt your pride when you got bested by a couple kids? I bet Gerard loved that when you came crawling back. I know he didn't take kindly to failures, and that's what you are!" Stiles cackled, letting his eyes take on a crazed quality. The man reached down, grabbing Stiles around his collar and pulling him up to his feet.
"Quincy, shut off the wolfsbane," the man growled, keeping his eyes locked on Stiles.
"Rick, I don't think that's a good idea," Quincy warned.
"No, the kid is right. See, this was going to be a mercy kill. I was going to take pity on them and kill them while they were asleep. But now, now I'm gonna let them wake up a little, so they can watch this one go first," Rick said, giving Stiles a little shake before tossing him on the floor next to Isaac. Stiles didn't hesitate, using the opportunity to turn Isaac on his side. He tried snapping his nose back in place as best he could too, in case that helped. An hour ago that would've left Stiles gagging, but now it was as simple as cracking a knuckle.
Quincy scampered off to do Rick's bidding, like the little bitch he obviously was. So that only left two men with visible guns and a man who dabbled in magic. Stiles still didn't like those odds, but all he needed to do now was stall for time until the wolfsbane started wearing off. Boyd and Scott were pretty much uninjured, so they'd be able to do some damage if they got the chance. And Derek was the Alpha, like he was so fond of reminding people of. He'd definitely be able to push through the after effects quickly. Stiles was pretty much considering Isaac a lost cause at this point, for good reason in his opinion. The teen was currently gurgling out a puddle of blood next to Stiles' leg. How he still had blood to lose was a mystery.
Stiles tried to steal a look up at Allison to get an idea of where her head was at, but Rick was in the way. She was probably plotting a way to shoot everyone with an arrow, good guys included. He hoped Lydia was able to call for backup, although who would she call? Stiles didn't even know if she had Deaton's phone number. They really needed more werewolf friendly contacts.
Stiles suppressed a twitch when he heard a low moan coming from behind him. He prayed that no one else heard the noise too. Of all the times for Boyd to be making noise, he sure did choose the most inopportune moment. But if Boyd was waking up, it meant the others would be as well. He hoped Scott wouldn't wake up complaining, since that was usually his default.
"So what's your plan after this?" Allison asked, casually shifting her feet so she moved slightly away from the group. "You planning on starting your own hunting family? Because I've got to say, even if you don't respect the Argent name anymore, a lot of people still do. It's one thing to go against code with the werewolves, but it's different when you go after one of your own."
"Speaking from experience?" Rick hissed, gesturing down to the leg she shot.
"I could've aimed for your heart," Allison shrugged, moving a few inches further. "And I would've been well within my rights, as you were going after an innocent. If we don't abide by long held standards, are we any better than the things we hunt?"
"If you even have to ask if a human ranks above a beast, you're more far gone than I thought!" Rick screeched. "Forget what I said before. I'm getting rid of you right now." Stiles watched as Rick brought the gun level to Allison's head, preparing himself to take the kill shot. Allison had nowhere to go and was too far to disarm him in time. She was about to die and Stiles was too slow to do anything about it.
But Isaac wasn't.