Stiles could've creamed his pants at the sound of Derek quoting Aliens in his defense, if he hadn't been trying so hard not to crap them. He didn't even care if it was on purpose or not, but if it was, Stiles was a goner. He was going to profess his love for the grumpy wolf, just as soon as they all survived this. Said wolf was standing between him and danger, but he didn't look as steady on his feet as Stiles would've liked. Still, better than nothing.

"You think you can fight? With all that wolfsbane in your system?" the hunter sneered, pointing the bloody knife at Derek's face.

"You're gonna find out," Derek growled, flicking out his claws on one hand. One hand? Well, half the claws were better than none. Derek leapt forward and immediately took a slash to the forearm. Shit luck was still in full effect evidently. Derek wouldn't be deterred though, making moves that were easily blocked and taking damage almost every time. It would've been funny to see Derek so summarily bested, if it wasn't absolutely terrifying instead.

In normal circumstances, Stiles would put money on Derek winning a fight every time. No matter the opponent. Yeah, he'd seen Derek get his ass kicked a few times, and practically gutted thanks to crazy wolf Peter, but he was still kicking and that meant something. That may not be the case for long though, with the way things were going now. Stiles had to do something to help in the fight.

He may not be good in hand to hand combat, but he was good at flinging his body places and hoping for the best. Stiles rushed the hunter's legs, keeping low to try to stay out of the way of the knife. The man stumbled, only a little, but it was enough to let Derek get a swipe to his wrist, knocking the knife to the floor. They all fell into a pile, with Stiles trying to aim his kicks at the bad guy, but mostly hitting Derek. This curse was very frustrating.

Stiles abandoned trying to fight and instead focused on grabbing the knife before anyone else could. That would give them the upper hand they so desperately needed. And while he didn't really see himself as a killer, he'd do whatever it took to get all of his friends out of this alive. He needed to channel Allison and go nuts.

Speaking of Allison, she was still fighting with Rick in what seemed like the longest scuffle in history. It really hadn't been that long, but it sure felt that way. They had moved a little further away from the downed werewolves thankfully, so there was less chance of more accidental crunches. Allison was giving as good as she got, looking like a warrior in her dress and ankle boots. He really hated being such a weak link.

Stiles finally spotted the ring of the dagger where it was laying underneath the hunter's leg as he continued tussling with Derek. He had to figure out a way to get them to move so he could grab it. Or at least distract him long enough. Stiles was the king of making clutch moves, even when in all fairness they shouldn't have worked. He needed a hail mary right now.

The hunter suddenly had the advantage, straddling a prone Derek and choking him. It was now or never. Stiles sent out a battle cry, letting it out as high pitched as he could. Everyone in the room who was conscious was distracted by the sudden noise, except for Allison. She had the focus of a snake, taking control as soon as Rick was puzzled enough to look in Stiles' direction. Allison hit him with a quick jab to the throat, following it up with a knee to the face. He went down hard, spraying blood from his nose along the way.

The hunter on Derek made the mistake of looking over at his fallen companion and that was all Stiles needed. He pushed the man to the side, grabbing the blade and swinging it down into his uninjured arm. The man screamed, forgetting about Derek and trying to tend to his new wound. Derek bucked him off, pulling the struggling man's head into his arms and applying a sleeper hold that was so perfect it could be in an audition tape to WWE. The hunter only fought for a few seconds before the pressure was too much and he passed out.

Stiles looked around the room in shock, amazed that they'd come out of this fight mostly intact. They still had the curse to deal with and the witchy dick in the corner, but this ordeal might finally be over.

The three little werewolves chose this time to start groaning and shifting as their bodies finally pushed through the effects of the wolfsbane. Better late than never, but pretty unhelpful.

"Can you check on them?" Stiles asked Allison, helping Derek to his feet. Moving him was still risky, but he doubted Derek wanted to stay on the floor after all of this.

"Yeah," Allison agreed, walking toward the group while keeping the last baddie in the room in her sights. Stiles wasn't sure why the man hadn't run off during the melee, but he was glad he didn't. They still needed him to get rid of the curse.

"Are you okay?" Stiles asked, fluttering his hands around Derek's body. Most of the cuts had already started to heal, just a little bit slower thanks to the last of the wolfsbane. But at least Derek didn't look like he was about to keel over and die at the moment.

"Yeah-"

A loud bang, followed by a sharp pain took Stiles right off his feet. He fell forward, taking Derek down with him. His left arm was burning and he writhed in pain, looking down to see a little chunk of meat gone from the edge of his shoulder. Stiles looked back to see where the shot came from, staring at the face of that asshole Quincy. How had he forgotten about him?

Quincy was quickly making his way back into the room, pointing his gun toward the now awake, but groggy Beta pile. Allison was standing in front of them, unarmed, but not backing down.

"We have to do something," Stiles whispered, trying to rally Derek one last time. But he didn't get an answer. He looked down, expecting to see the scruffy werewolf annoyed by Stiles' boney body laying on top of him. But Derek's eyes were closed. And there was a frightening puddle of blood pooling under the right side of his chest. That bullet had grazed Stiles, but found a home in Derek.

"Are you willing to die for them, girl? For these monsters?" Quincy spat, pointing his gun at each of the defenseless teens. Allison looked back at each one, letting her gaze linger on Boyd a little longer than the rest. She turned back toward the hunter, squaring her shoulders and raising her chin.

"Yes, I am."

Bang.