U-g-h… Ch 39- pretty long... What was supposed to be a spontaneous extra unplanned Ch 40- Too short to be it's own Chapter… What was supposed to be Ch 41 also extra and unplanned? Looking like it's gonna be long… I'm just going to put them in the same chapter, but I might even do a third part for monday morning because I love it when Derek fears for his life for some reason? And just idk guys, 40 might be kinda long so I'll just post this now so you guys don't have to wait to enjoy your suffering. ((I'm sorry guys, I don't know why I'm filled with angst.))

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"Oh, my God, how are we even friends? For the love of Gaia, Scott, Mati was the best planeteer, he was not just the heart and soul of the team, but the heart and soul of nature! He embodied goodness and compassion!" Stiles insisted at his phone as he stirred honey into his tea.

"Dude, whatever, he embodies shitty powers and general uselessness to the team." Scott muttered, working on his homework while they talked. Stiles struggled not to burn his hand as he picked up his mug.

"Without him, Captain America would be a dick and the team-" Scott burst out laughing at him as he realized his mistake. "Oh my goooood…."

"Dude, Captain America? He's already a dick." Stiles gasped in offense.

"YOU SHUT YOUR BLASPHEMOUS MOUTH, that man is as perfect as his ass!"

"No way! He IS an ass!" Scott laughed. "He asked his crush if she was sleeping with a guy because they seemed generally kind of friendly!" Stiles huffed.

"He was awkward!" He insisted.

"And was he 'awkward' in Avengers?"

"Well I mean…"

"Yeah, because I don't think that excuses telling a humanitarian angel he's a shitty hero because he's mad that he's actually super smart and attractive and charming and nice." Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Ohmygod, they worked it out by the end, can't you get over it? Tony was kind of a dick too."

"Reactively! To his childhood hero being hostile toward him! For not blindly trusting a shadowy government agency! It was rude, Stiles! It was a really shitty way to start a relationship." Scott said, obvious distracted from his homework. Stiles rolled his eyes, walking towards the door as someone rapped on it.

"Look, nevermind? Finish your homework. I've gotta get the door, I'm putting you in my pocket." Stiles heard Scott grumble in agreement as he did so, unlocking the deadbolt and opening the door with the chain still on and looking through to a 40-something year old man in generic brown slacks, a brown jacket, and a ball cap. "Hi."

"Hey there, sport. Mind having your parents come to sign for a package?" He glanced to the guy's truck. Black delivery van. Checks out.

"Sorry, they're out. They should be home soon if you want to come back though."

"Geez. Actually I'm kinda busy, would you mind coming out and signing for it?" The guy said unconvincingly, scratching the back of his neck, sounding rehearsed. Stiles furrowed his brows, trying to get a better look at the guy's van, but he was in the way now. Shit.

"I thought you said you needed an adult to sign?" The guy chuckled drily, as he was going to explain, but Stiles got a sinking feeling in his stomach. He threw his body weight into slamming the door, but the man at the door did the same, managing to get his foot in between the door and the frame. Stiles didn't even realize what would happen if he dropped his cup, just abandoning it for the sake of getting the door closed. He only realised what had happened when he heard a scream and burning on his foot. His weight slammed the door as soon as the man removed his foot in agony. Stiles locked the door before giving a dry(-ish) sob of pain and wrestling his phone out of his pocket.

"- I'm on my way. Stiles! Seriously say something!" Scott yelled out to him, in a panic.

"I'm fine, I'm okay, there's a guy-" Stiles let out a scream of shock as a crowbar hit the living room window, bouncing off with hardly even a crack, a woman he hadn't seen outside of it. He turned and limped quickly to the back door, putting the phone back to his ear. "There are people trying to break in." He locked all three of the deadbolts on the back door.

"I figured, I'm coming, I'm gonna call the police, You should call Dean and Cas!" Scott huffed, obviously either running or riding his bike quickly. Stiles took some air freshener and sprayed it in the strange woman's face as she looked in through the kitchen window, dropping it once she recoiled, gasping and yelling, to close and lock the window.

"Right, be careful, pretty sure they're armed." Stiles opened his contacts, only to hear a noise out on the side of the mud room. Was his window closed? Fuck, no. He hit the call button, running upstairs. The call clicked on as he made it to his room. The guy was already on the roof. He flung open the closet.

"Hey, Stiles. I was just about to call to see if you wanted to get lunch tomorr-" It was fucking Derek? How- No!

"Fucking hell, I don't need this right now." He whined to himself, grabbing the shotgun and getting it ready.

"I'm… sorry?" Derek said confused. Why the fuck was the safety on?! He didn't have time for this!

"Oh god, no babe, that sounds-" The gun fired as the man was climbing in. Taking a good amount to the face, he fell backwards screaming, rolling straight off the roof. Stiles put the gun down and ran to close and lock the window, ignoring the rock salt embedded in his wall. He picked the phone back up. "-great, but I was actually trying to call Dean."

"Stiles, what the hell was that?!" Derek exclaimed, worried.

"My closet shotgun?" Stiles panted in return. "There's people trying to break i-" Stiles dove to the ground on instinct and training as the window shattered with the unmistakable ring of another gunshot. He stared at the window, phone still at his ear, Derek's shouting unintelligible. "They have a gun…" He muttered, being careful as he ran to the door, then to Dean and Cas' room.

"STILES!" He could finally hear Derek yell through the phone. "ARE YOU OKAY?" He couldn't breathe. They were in his room. He could hear them opening his window. He locked the door and started looking frantically, soon finding the handgun in the bedside drawer, He checked it was loaded as his dad had taught him, his hands shaking. He'd dropped his phone. He couldn't pick it up. He couldn't move but to aim at the shaking door, readying for if it broke.