Stiles changed his mind. He loved forks now. There was no better eating utensil on this planet. He wasn't even going to ask Derek before he took it either. That thing was going to get plated in gold and hung above his mantel. Stiles didn't even have a mantel, but he would get one for this. Just as soon as they pulled it out of Rick's junk.

Stiles' terrible babysitting skills might've just saved Allison's life. While he'd taken the arrow out of the room to protect the pack, he'd completely forgotten about the fork that was partially hidden under a towel. But now it seemed like the best mistake he'd ever made.

Isaac had surged up from out of nowhere, sinking the fork in as deep as it would go. Obviously it couldn't go that far, but it didn't really need to in that part of the anatomy. It made Rick's shot go wide, giving Allison the opportunity to duck behind the pillar. Stiles hoped this feat of strength was just the beginning of Isaac's takedown of the threat, but he was currently sagged in a pile beneath Rick's feet.

Rick growled, pulling the fork from his body and throwing it across the room. The other gunman and the witchy guy seemed shocked into stillness, so Stiles ignored them for now. His attention was focused on Rick, who was currently turning his gun toward a defenseless Isaac. Stiles leapt forward, pushing at Rick's gun hand just as he fired. The shot went into the floor, barely missing Isaac and thankfully not hitting anyone else. Stiles used the only move he had in his arsenal and kicked Rick in the crotch. Rick bent down, losing his faculties enough that he dropped his gun. Stiles went to grab it, but bullshit luck was still in full effect and he accidentally kicked it across the room.

"Shoot him!" Rick roared, using one hand to point at Stiles while the other one still cradled his assaulted groin. Stiles had nowhere to go. He could make an attempt at a dive, but he'd leave Isaac to take the bullet in his place, and that was unacceptable. He and Isaac may not be bros, but he wouldn't leave anyone to just get shot like that. Stiles flinched at the sight of the gun pointing toward him, but he wasn't going to look away. This man was going to have to stare into the eyes of the kid he was killing.

But no shot ever came. Faster than what seemed humanly possible, a blade flew through the air and landed right in the hand of henchman number three. He shrieked and dropped his gun, cradling his impaled palm in horror. Allison leapt out from behind the pillar, looking every bit like the wild huntress she was, and went right after Rick. They started doing some complicated back and forth, but Stiles had to pay attention to the others.

Captain Curse was still standing back, looking like he really didn't want to be there. Why would he even get mixed up in something like this? It didn't seem like these hunters would have any qualms turning around and killing him when they didn't need him anymore. But Stiles could ponder relationships later, when his team was safe.

Stiles grabbed Isaac under the armpits, dragging him away from the action and closer to Boyd. It might not be a good idea to have them all bunched together, but it would be easier to guard them all if they were. He was just about to go back for Scott when the fighting got too close to him and Rick stepped on his hand. Stiles could hear the crunch from where he was standing and cringed. But then a few moments later, Scott started to stir. And then Stiles remembered something from another crisis.

When Derek and Stiles were paralyzed with kanima venom, Derek said triggering his healing ability would help flush the toxin out faster. It had worked a little bit, but that wasn't the same as wolfsbane. Maybe this would be easier to come back from? Isaac had a surge of energy not too long after Stiles popped his nose back into place, and Scott was twitching now with his broken fingers. Would Derek wake up if he hurt him too?

Stiles didn't really like the idea of hurting Derek on purpose, no matter how much it might help. And what would he even do? With the bad luck curse, even giving him a paper cut could turn into a fatal wound. But there might not be any other choice. If Quincy came back and the other gunman got his wits about him again, there would be no chance left.

He finally made his way back to Scott, pulling him over and dropping him next to Boyd, who hadn't made any more noise after that initial moan. Stiles couldn't worry about him now though, he needed big daddy. And wow, he could never call Derek that out loud. He crouched down in front of Derek, making sure to keep the action in the room within sight. Allison was still holding her own with Rick, getting in a few jabs here and there. The other gunman was still whining about his hand, solidifying his place as the weakest link in the hunter pack. No wonder Stiles could barely remember any of these fools. They were clearly not the A squad.

"Forgive me for this," Stiles muttered, jerking Derek up by the collar and punching him across the cheek. Stiles couldn't tell if his hand or Derek's face fared worse, but he didn't know what else to do. That had to be enough. It had to work.

"I'm going to kill you for this!" the third gunman hissed, stalking toward him. Well, now he was the knifeman evidently, since he'd abandoned his gun for Allison's knife. Why was he going to be punished for Allison's actions? That hardly seemed fair.

"Come on man, you don't really want to do that. Look at all this mess. Is it worth it?" Stiles asked, trying to negotiate. No one really wanted to kill if they didn't have to, right?

"All wolves need to be put down," he growled, sneering at the boy pile behind him.

"How specist of you," Stiles spat, standing up to defend his pack. "Look around you. We're all still people. The fact that you can't accept that says a lot more about you than it does about them!"

"I'm not going to accept being lower on the food chain!" the man shouted, swinging his blade in Stiles' direction. He jumped back, barely dodging the swipe. The man swung again, but this time, Stiles forgot how close he was to Derek. He fell backwards over him, landing on his butt like an idiot. An idiot who was about to die. He reflexively closed his eyes as he saw the blade coming down in his direction, apologizing to his dad for leaving him alone.

But the knife never touched him. There was scuffling and movement in front of him, but Stiles didn't want to open his eyes. This could've been a trick and denial was such a better place to be right now. It wasn't until he heard a very familiar growl that he let his eyes spring open, looking up in awe at the body standing protectively in front of him.

"Get away from him, you bitch."