Ch. 2
We're Here for Stiles
The body of the demon fell, and still nobody moved. Scott glanced at the corpse, with blood pooling on the floor. The vessel was a man, mid-thirties, and without the vile thing poisoning his words, Scott would have a hard time picturing the man hurting anyone. He began to pity the poor man. The demon deserved death, that much was clear, but Stiles had just killed a human, too. Even Scott hadn't done that. The silence felt like eons but was only moments. It was broken by Chris Argent, who cleared his throat and opened his mouth.
Whatever Chris was about to say was punctured by the sharp sound of Derek's alarm. "What the-" Derek growled, but everyone knew. Someone else was coming. Scott looked at Stiles for the first time since the kill. Not in the eyes- he was terrified by what he'd find there. But Scott could tell by Stiles' suddenly fidgety stance that he knew who the new intruders were.
All of the sudden the door slid open and two men ran into the loft, guns blazing. They stopped and looked around, guns still raised. Scott felt their searching gaze on him as they took in everything from his glowing eyes to Isaac's claws, from the girls' tears to the blood on the floor and finally to his best friend, a body at his feet and his gun still raised.
Scott took in their appearances as well. Each had a scent around them, and if Scott didn't know better he would say it was death. It was oddly similar to Peter's. One was taller than the other, freakishly so, and he had darker hair. They both had plaid shirts underneath their thick coats (kinda like Stiles, Scott realized), and Scott figured that there were probably more weapons in the pockets.
After a moment, the dark-haired giant lowered his gun, seemingly unfazed by the crazy scene they had walked into. The shorter man did not put his gun away, but suddenly he spoke. "We're here for Stiles."
As Dean loaded a clip into his gun, all he could think was that Stiles was an idiot. Not calling about the demon until last minute? Idiotic. But then, that was Stiles. Kid could go from terminator to teddy bear in ten seconds, and Dean had experienced it first-handedly. When the call came, a mere three hours ago, Dean had been shocked but not surprised. Werewolves had found the kid, it was only a matter of time before demons did too. In the corner of his mind Dean wondered if the demon knew who Stiles really was, but decided it didn't matter. They high-tailed it here no matter what. It wasn't even Stiles Dean was worried about. The kid could take care of himself. No, what Dean was worried about was the demon, and it turned out he was right! 20 people dead in 10 days, and 1,000 more would be in 10 years. What kind of son-of-a-bitch had the balls to make 1,000 deals? A nasty one according to Crowley. It had taken some pushing, but finally Crowley admitted that a demon was missing from his ranks. He suspected it had gone rogue. It did, Dean thought grimly. Deciding he was done loading his guns, Dean looked at Sam, who was looking at the loft building apprehensively.
"Should we go in?" Sam asked.
Dean rolled his eyes.
"Of course we should go in, dumbass. Even if Stiles isn't in trouble yet, which is a big if, he sure as hell has some explaining to do. You got the knife?" Sam glared at him, showed him the knife in his pocket, then sighed.
"Yeah, you're right. Come on, let's go." Sam said. He and Dean entered the building, climbed the stairs, then crept slowly along the hallway to the door, guns raised. Finally they stood, backs against the walls, on either side of the door. Sam shot him a look that asked whether he should enter. Dean shook his head. He could hear voices, and while he couldn't tell what they said, one of them was Stiles'.
Then they heard the gunshot, and slid open the door in a matter of seconds. Dean entered the loft with his gun still raised and took in the scene around him. He saw the kids with glowing eyes and claws. Mentally he shrugged. He'd seen worse. Looks like Stiles was right. These are type B werewolves. And they can't be killed by silver. Awesome. Although this breed only had a tiny mention in Dad's journal. It didn't take long to realize what Stiles was dealing with when he first encountered them. The wolves (and humans) in question were staring at him now. Well, some were. The others were looking at something else. Dean shifted his gaze to the right of him and saw Stiles. His eyes widened as he took in the blood and the gun. So that's where it went. Oh, boy, what the hell has he done now?
Out of the corner of his eye, Dean glanced at Sam. If he was fazed, he didn't show it, and Dean realized he probably didn't either. Nothing even was surprising about the scene, except for the idiot. Speaking of which... Dean saw Sam lower his gun. That was the cue to speak. So he looked at the kid with the red eyes, the alpha, the leader, and said "We're here for Stiles."