A/N

Hey guys! Happy New Year! Thanks so much for reading! The next chapter won't be up until next year (tomorrow) but it will be up very late in the day. Please remember to check out my non-crossover "one way ticket," have a great rest of 2014, thanks so much for reviewing, and enjoy!

Ch. 9

The Same Six Hours

To say that her dad did not look happy would be the understatement of the century. Allison could not look him in the eye as she trudged over to the enormous red S.U.V. He opened the passenger door for her. Allison snuck a glance at her father and saw that instead of glaring at her, Chris was watching the Stilinski house apprehensively. He looked like he was worried the Winchesters would come barreling out any minute. He doesn't know what I know. And he doesn't have the Winchesters' trust, Allison thought satisfactorily. Even though she was dreading the conversation that was sure to come, Allison smiled as she slipped into her dad's car. It was nice to have an upper hand for a change.

6 Hours Earlier

Sam worriedly watched Stiles go up the stairs. When the adolescent disappeared, he glanced at Dean, and was relieved to see that he, too looked concerned. It was too often that Dean took serious situations like these too lightly. Sam pensively took a sip of the beer Stiles had provided him. (He didn't want to know how Stiles knew where the beer was.) Upon hearing the door to Stiles' room close, he turned to Dean, prepared to speak. Dean, however, beat him to it.

"What should we do about Stiles?" Dean asked, and Sam was surprised to hear layers of worry in his voice. "The kid is not getting let back into that pack, no matter what that Scott kid promised. When hunters and werewolves agree on something you know it's something bad. They're insanely scared of us, which is super awesome-"

"Yeah," Sam laughed. "It'd be a nice change of pace, demons running from us."

"-but," Dean continued, serious again, "It's bad for Stiles. Our name tainted the poor kid. Personally I think we should just have him pack his things and high-tail it out of here."

"We can't do that!" Exclaimed Sam. "Dean, the kid's whole life is here. We yank him out and lug him around like cargo, and we're no better than dad. He did that to us, and we aren't exactly mentally sound!" Sam's blood boiled at the thought of doing that to the poor kid, 17 years old be dammed. To Sam, it didn't matter how old Stiles was. He was still his little brother. He would not treat Stiles like that.

Dean raised his hands defensively. "Woah, man, take it easy. It's not like I'm going to run upstairs and stuff the kid in a drawstring bag. The Sheriff would kill me, not to mention Stiles. I just think it's a good idea. We'll talk to him, but ultimately it will be his choice."

At this, Sam calmed down. Dean was right, they didn't have many options. And Sam would be foolish for thinking that their next course of action would be anything other than Stiles' choice. Dean, seeing that Sam was calm, relaxed into his chair and took a sip of beer. Sam mimicked him.

"Wait a minute," said Dean lightly. "What do you mean we aren't mentally sound, Sammy?" Sam chuckled.

"Well what was it that Zachariah said not too long ago? We are 'dangerously, erotically codependent on each other?'" Dean roared with laughter.

"Man, it was a downright pleasure to stab the winged douche in the face. He was reading too many Supernatural books if he thought that."

Sam smiled. "I think Crowley got his hands on a stack." Dean groaned, then froze. Sam's grin faltered. Dean looked at Sam and tapped his ear. He had heard something. Sam scrunched up his face and concentrated. At first he thought Dean was being paranoid, (a month-long break from hunting will do that to you) but then he heard them. Voices coming from upstairs. Sam nodded at Dean and slowly stood up. He then carefully crept up the stairs, careful to avoid creaking floorboards. Once upstairs, Sam deduced that the voices were coming from Stiles' room. He pressed his ear against the closed wooden door and listened.

A few minutes later, Sam trudged down the stairs to a mildly uneasy Dean. "It's all right." Sam said immediately, taking note of Dean's mood. "Stiles is talking to the hunter girl, Allison. She must have climbed in through his window." Dean relaxed.

"Interesting." said Dean, turning over his now-empty beer bottle in his hands. "Maybe there's hope for the kid after all. If one person is on his side there's got to be more right?"

Sam shrugged. "She's the only other human, Dean. It might not be that simple."

"But it's a start. What were they talking about, anyway?" Sam smirked. Dean would love this.

"Us." Dean looked confused, and Sam reviled in it. "Stiles was telling Allison about our adventures, with and without him."

"Good god why?" Dean asked. "Our lives can't be that interesting. We don't live with the things we hunt." Sam sighed. Dean had zero understanding of people.

"I dunno, Dean. She only found out she was a hunter like a year ago, right? Maybe she wants to know what else is out there. Anyway I left when Stiles started talking about the books. I don't want to go through that twice in one evening." Dean groaned again.

'Glad to know that Stiles' friends have death wishes. I swear if any of those smug little werewolves even mentions them around me I'll-"

"-Anyway," Sam cut off Dean before he could finish what promised to be a horrific sentence, "Maybe we should talk about something else. All we can do about Stiles is wait."

Dean agreed. "Ok, what should we talk about?"

"Cas." Sam said. Dean's face fell.

"No Sammy, not right now." Dean suddenly looked exhausted.

"Dean, we're going to have to talk about him eventually!" Sam said, his voice raised.

"Well what is there to talk about?" Dean's voice escalated as well. "Look, Sam, I know. I know what you're going to say and it's true. I know Cas has been acting shady as hell since you got your soul back, and he's gone for days on end at times, and when we told him we were coming here he goddamn flinched when we mentioned Crowley. I know that you don't trust him anymore, but if you'll allow me to deal with one freaking problem at a time-" The front door began to open and the boys spun around to see a very tired Sheriff Stilinski step into the house.

"Evenin boys" he said. If he looked surprised to see the Winchesters standing in his living room, he didn't show it. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No sir." said Dean curtly, and he and Sam frantically composed themselves. The sheriff hung up his coat by the door, then walked over to the boys.

"It's good to see you." he said, giving Sam and Dean each a hug. "It's been a while."

"Yeah, it has." Sam agreed. John Stilinski patted Sam on the back then looked around the room. He sighed when he saw the beer bottles.

"Man, I need to hide these better if Stiles keeps finding them. Speaking of which," he said, noticing for the first time said Winchester's absence, "where is my boy?"

"He's upstairs. He's fine." said Sam hurriedly, not wanting to alarm John or tell about Stiles' current guest.

The sheriff sighed in relief. "Good. I appreciate you boys calling on your way back over here. Poor kid, must be exhausted."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, well, Shooting a demon, burying a body and getting kicked out of a pack all in-" he glanced at his watch and saw that it was 2:00 a.m. "-six hours will do that to you. But I gotta say, sheriff, you look much worse."

"Yeah," John Stilinski said sounding, if possible, even more exhausted. He had heavy bag around his eyes and seemed to radiate sleep deprivation. Sam hoped he would never be that tired. " A demon killing spree will do that. Plus, we're still cleaning up after the Darach. It's hard to get the force to cooperate when none of them know the whole story. But you two would know that, right? With all of the running from law enforcement you two seem to do."

Sam and Dean grinned abashedly. John guffawed. "Relax, boys. Turning you two in would be the last thing I ever did. Stiles would make sure of that. I'm just glad that demon is gone for good. It is, isn't it?" Seeing Dean nod, the Sheriff proceeded to head upstairs. "Good. Well, I deserve a good night's sleep, not that I'm going to get one. I'll see you two in the morning."

Sam and Dean mumbled their good nights and watched as Sheriff Stilinski disappeared from view. Sam turned towards Dean. "We should sleep too, you know."

"Maybe." Dean mumbled, sounding almost as exhausted as the Sheriff. He sat back down in his chair and dozed off. Sam, however, didn't. Maybe it was a lingering side effect from his soulless self, but Sam did not feel the need to sleep. Instead, he sat in the night, pondering their current situation. He was so focused that when the time came around it took him a moment to register that day was breaking. Sam glanced at his watch. 7:00 a.m. Stiles had been talking to Allison for six hours.

Deciding it was time for everyone to get up, Sam stood up and stretched before walking over to his sleeping brother. "Hey, Dean," he said softly, not wanting a gun at his throat. Sam poked his brother in the shoulder. "Dean. Wake up."

"S'problem, Sammy?" Dean said, voice heavily laden with sleep. Sam wished he could film him.

"I think we should have Allison leave before her father notices she's missing." Dean sat upright suddenly, all traces of tiredness gone.

"She's still here?" Dean asked disbelievingly.

"Yeah," said Sam, "but I think I know how help Stiles. Or at least send the pack a message."

"How?" Dean asked quizzically. "You said it yourself. She isn't here for the pack, and even if she were I highly doubt she would play messenger."

"No, I know. I'm thinking we tell her something she'll want to report. She came here for a story, let's give her one." Dean narrowed his eyes.

"You're thinking Mystic Falls." He stated. Sam nodded.

"I'm thinking Mystic Falls." Dean grinned mischievously, and it was scary how much he resembled Stiles in that moment.

"Sammy, you are a genius." Dean proceeded to get up slowly, letting his joints pop. Sam grimaced. "You know," Dean added after a minute, "I hated that hunt. Too much diplomacy. I still think we should have killed more than just three vampires."

Sam scoffed. "Leave that part out of the story when you tell it." Sam and Dean smiled at each other then made their way upstairs, turning off the living room light in anticipation of the coming sunrise.

Scott glared at the ceiling. It was unfair for him to be awake at this time of night, it really was. The events of today were rolling around in his mind, and he had nothing to do but think. Had it really only been 24 hours ago that he had been worried about a demon killing him? Now he was worried about Stiles killing him. Scott cursed whoever in the universe had decided to play this cruel joke on him. He was supposed to protect Stiles. Now it turns out that not only can Stiles protect himself, but he's also a hunter. Another hunter. Scott thought sardonically. I must have the worst luck in the world. Why did all the people close to Scott turn out to be programmed to kill him? Scott rolled over to look at the clock on his nightstand. The red light provided an angry contrast to his pitch-black bedroom. He groaned when he saw the time. 1:00 A.M. It would probably be another six hours until the sun rose. Had it really been only 5 hours since Stiles committed demoncide? Had it only been four and a half since Stiles buried a body in the last remaining light of the sunset? Four since Scott was forced to be so cruel? To kick Stiles out? Scott felt as though the darkness in his bedroom was suffocating him. It was his fault. he didn't have to listen to Derek. He didn't have to let the prejudice of the Winchesters pass on to him. Stiles had looked so angry when he had left. So hurt-. Scott stopped himself. Thinking about the last- he glanced at the clock again- six hours would amount to nothing. What was done was done. Even if the image of Stiles shooting the Colt was seared into Scott's mind, Scott would try to ignore it. Even if the real reason he wasn't sleeping was to avoid horrific dreams of blood and demons and Stiles rising from the dead.

Stop it. Scott mentally kicked himself. Just because his brothers did that doesn't mean Stiles had done it. He would have known. Even after everything, Stiles was still his best friend. And damn him if he was going to let Derek and Peter and their stupid fears get in the way. Yes, Stiles had super freaking scary brothers. And they probably wanted to kill him. But that didn't matter. First thing in the morning, Scott would get Stiles back into the pack. Yes, Stiles was a hunter, but surely there was room for one more. Surely he would still want to be in the pack. No way would he abandon Scott for his two freakishly tall brothers. Right? Blood was thicker than water but pack was thicker than blood. No, Scott was positive Stiles would want to rejoin the pack.

Although... One thought teased the back of Scott's mind. He had learned a lot today, and if there was one thing that stood out, it was that the Winchesters were big about family. Like, sell-your-soul-to-bring-your-brother-back big. Would they let him... No, Stiles could make that decision for himself. If he didn't want to kill Scott. Or maybe the Winchesters would kill him first.

Scott's mind swam in circles for several hours, so that when the sun finally broke through the horizon he was more unsure of the world around him than ever before.