"Is he dead?" Curious Stiles came closer to have a better look at Mark.

"He's alive." John stepped back, not sure what to do next. He'd left bloody fingerprints on Mark's neck when he'd searched for a pulse.

"Is he dying?" Stiles sounded way too gleeful at that idea.

"No!" John snapped. He ran a hand through his hair. "Dunno."

Keeping his eyes on the still unconscious figure in the chair Stiles moved around John and started to rummage through the cupboards.

"What are you looking for?" John ask. Maybe Stiles knew what to do. He was going through the cupboards like a man on a mission. "What are you even doing here?"

"You're supposed to teach me how to drive," Stiles said with his head in one of the cupboards. "Ahh, knew there was some left." Triumphantly he came up with a package.

"Popcorn?" John squinted at the thing in Stiles' hand but it stubbornly kept reading Popcorn. "How's that going to help?"

"I have a front-row seat to a Hale kicking the bucket, I want popcorn," Stiles said while he put it in the microwave. John put his hand over the controls before he could start it, though.

"You're not going to have popcorn," John hissed. "What the fuck is wrong with you? I get that you don't like him but this …" He helplessly gestured at the situation as a whole.

Mark was still unconscious and it didn't look as if that was going to change any time soon.

"What happened to him?" Stiles asked. He was leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, pouting. He looked like a toddler who didn't get the candy. Or popcorn in this case.

"Got shot with wolfsbane, most likely the Winchesters." John gave him the short version. Not that he knew the long version. "It was killing him so I had to get it out."

"Still looks like it's killing him," Stiles said and didn't even bother to hide his excitement.

John glared at him but didn't waste more time with him.

"I'm going to call Agnes." John reached for his phone and this time nobody was stopping him from calling her. Mark hadn't been able to tell him much but John had gotten the gist of it. Whatever he'd gotten into it might have been a trap to get to the rest of the pack. So Mark had come here. John wasn't pack and the Winchesters already knew about him. It did make sense.

The second Agnes answered the call John said: "Mark got shot. With wolfsbane."

There was a second of silence on the other end but then she snapped into action.

"You have to get the bullet out, that will slow it down."

"Already done that, still doesn't look good." John had another look at his partner. "He's unconscious."

"The hunters?" Agnes asked with a growl behind her words. "Do you know where they are?"

"No. Mark was worried that he might lead them to the rest of the pack, that's why he came here."

John paced up and down the kitchen. Thankfully Stiles got the hint that this was not the time to joke around and got out of the way, popcorn forgotten for now.

"Okay, you got the bullet out, we have some time." Agnes tried to calm him down. "Where did he get shot? Arm, leg, torso?"

"Arm."

"That's good. You see the black lines?"

"Yes." John didn't even bother to check if they were still there.

"If they reach his heart, he dies." Agnes' voice became cold. "I'm going to get the antidote but you have to monitor him. Wait for me for as long as you can but if I'm not there in time, you have to cut his arm off before it reaches his shoulder."

"Cut off his arm?" John felt like he was going to faint.

"He'll survive losing an arm, he won't survive if the poison reaches his heart."

John nodded, still trying to process what she was saying. He turned back to Mark to check how far it had spread and just like he'd feared the spider-web lines were already past the ball of his shoulder.

"It's already over his shoulder. You better hurry with that antidote."

Agnes cursed.

"What is the antidote?" Stiles spoke up. So far he'd followed the scene with interest, and he still looked as if he wanted popcorn to go with the spectacle, but his curious nature seemed to have taken over.

If Agnes was surprised to hear his voice she didn't show it.

"We need the same strand of wolfsbane, meaning a bullet from the same batch," Agnes answered. "We have to burn it. He needs to inhale the smoke and then we have to rub the ashes into the wound."

"Who comes up with shit like this?" Stiles almost knocked glass with the bloody bullet off the table. Too bad they couldn't use that one.

"That's for sure an interesting topic for a long evening but I have to go," Agnes snapped. "I have to find those damn hunters, get a bullet from them, and get to Mark before he dies."

She was about to end the call when John blurted out: "I have bullets."

"You have what?"

"Wolfsbane bullets," John clarified. "Dean gave them to me. You know, just in case. Said they were leftovers from another case. Bet he kept some for himself."

Agnes had questions and she would grill him later on why Dean had given him the bullets in the first place and how closely he was working with the Winchesters in general but there was no time for that now.

Agnes stayed on the phone while John sprinted upstairs to get the bullets. Stiles was right, this did sound like some magic mumbo-jumbo but Mark was running out of time. John just hoped that this was more effective than the rituals the Winchesters had used to lure out Derek.

He needed two attempts to open the safe.

Cracking open the bullet was another problem but then he had a small pile of wolfsbane powder on the table. Stiles even helped to hold Mark in a hunched forward position so that he would inhale the smoke without smashing his nose on the table.

"You owe me for this," Stiles muttered and adjusted his grip on Mark who was stubbornly sleeping through all this. Which most likely was for the batter. If anything he'd become even paler, eyelids and lips an almost black shade of blue.

John wasn't sure if Stiles was talking to him or Mark but he ignored him for the moment and lit the powder instead. It ignited with a blue flame and even the smoke had a blue hint to it. With cupped hands, John made sure that Mark got a face full of the smoke.

More out of reflex than anything else Mark inhaled deeply and he struggled weakly against Stiles holding him in place over the flame.

It took only a few seconds until there were only ashes left.

"What now?" John asked, eyeing Mark who still failed to open his eyes.

"Did he inhale the smoke?" Came Agnes' voice out of the phone lying forgotten on the table. At least Stiles had bothered to put her on speaker while John had been upstairs to get the bullet.

"Yes," John confirmed.

"Rub the ashes in the wound."

Stiles and John shared a glance but then John shrugged and took a pinch of the ashes.

When John pressed his thumb into the wound, Mark came back to life kicking. He smacked Stiles across the chest, sending him flying, but John managed to dodge his other arm.

"Dammit, Mark." John gritted out. There was the prickling of electricity right under his thumb so he guessed that the ashes were doing something.

Mark slumped back down, breathing heavily but he was more or less conscious. At least he was sitting on his own with his arms braced on the table.

"You okay?" John kept a hand on Mark's shoulder to stabilize him but he was more worried about Stiles who Mark had knocked into the fridge with his flailing. John fully expected to find a dent in the fridge's door later but for now, Stiles was sitting against it, head tilted back and his eyes closed while he gasped for air. The fist clawing the front of his hoodie looked painful.

With his free hand, Stiles gave him a thumbs-up but he was too busy catching his breath for anything else. John let him be for the moment and turned back to Mark.

"What happened?" Mark rasped out.

"You got shot and almost died," John told him. He gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he dared to let go of him to reach for his phone. Agnes was still on the line, demanding to know what the hell was going on.

John told her that Mark was looking better, the black lines were almost gone by now and the gunshot wound itself was oozing red blood instead of the black goo. John could watch the flesh knitting itself together. Looked like the worst was over.

"I'm coming over," Agnes said.

"No!" Mark bellowed. "Could be a trap. They might be watching the house."

Even over the phone, John felt Agnes fighting with herself. Since he'd learned about werewolves John had looked at Mark with different eyes and by now he had gotten the hang of what made a werewolf tick. They needed their pack, they needed the comfort and the closeness of a pack. So rationally Agnes knew that the best thing she could do for Mark right now was to stay away but every instinct she had told her to rush to the injured pack member. Mark on the other hand wanted to crawl into the safety of the pack, he wanted to let his pack take care of him.

In the end, Agnes agreed to leave this to John. Mark would need a little while to recover but he was on the mend and not actively dying any longer.

She even agreed to wait for his report before she went to kill the Winchesters, John called it a win.

"Sorry, I have to do for now," John said to Mark when he'd ended the call. Mark was still mostly out of it so John let him be for the moment and turned to Stiles who was still sitting on the floor. He was breathing shallowly and he had a hand on his ribs.

"You okay?" John held out a hand to help him up.

"I think I cracked a rib." Stiles squinted at him but after a moment he took the offered hand. Grunting and with exaggerated grimaces, he got to his feet.

"I can call an ambulance," John offered, not sure how badly Stiles was injured. Mark had knocked him into the fridge with quite some force.

"Just help me over to the chair."

Stiles put most of his weight on John and he made a big deal of hobbling over to the chair even if his legs were working just fine. The three steps to the chair were enough to convince John that Stiles was fine.

"Stop making such a fuss." John dumped him in the chair.

"He tried to kill me. Again." Stiles pointed a finger at Mark. "I was just trying to help."

"You wanted to watch him die," John reminded him not so kindly. "You were about to make popcorn."

Stiles opened his mouth to defend himself but he got interrupted by Mark.

"Sorry to disappoint," he said, his voice still not quite there. "Looks like I'm going to live. Thank you." The last part was directed at John.

"I would say anytime but if I never have to deal with something like this ever again I'd be happy." John rubbed the back of his head, not sure how to deal with the situation.

"Fuck it, I need a drink." John got the bottle and raised a questioning eyebrow at Stiles and Mark. Mark opted for water but Stiles did take a drink.

John was tempted to knock his back and get a refill immediately but instead, he sat down at the table with his drink.

"Okay, since you're not dying any longer, how the fuck did you get shot?"

Mark squirmed in his seat and he did avoid looking at Stiles who was sitting right across from him.

"I might have wanted to meet up with Sam." Mark cleared his throat. "We wanted to see if there's something we can do for Stiles."