Small note for the Chapter: Idk if any of you care as much as me, but Derek is wearing a V-neck pastel sweater this chapter. It makes me smile, so I thought I'd share. He'ssocute!

HazelVex: I LOVE YOUR NAME HOLY F-*elongated beeping, technical difficulties screen, 3 minutes later* UH, SORRY, I MEAN WE LOVE YOU TOO, THANK FRIEND.

Wennerholm: A) True, that or they'd start shooting at them immediately because she a spoopy girl. B) Deaton's an enigma wrapped in a riddle dipped in peanut butter, and that's all I'm saying because he might be showing up soonish. C) 1- Stiles mom died of her illness in this AU no mystery there at least. 2- The Argents have shown they don't much care about having to work around law enforcement and they're against killing humans, of course that didn't stop Gerard or Kate but who knows. 3- They might be. But afaik they've never interacted with angels, so far. 4- I mean, they're hunters, bro, they kill people, yeah they're probably going to hell. 5- BRO, CHILL? 6- Aaaaah, All I'll spoil about the sheriff's death is, the Argents didn't come to Beacon Hills until after John's death. BUT WHO KNOWS?

Hahaha, enjoy the chapter everyone, it's a long one!

~!~

Sam, Crowley, and Lucifer sat about the living room when Stiles came down the stairs. For some reason, the person he chose to make eye contact with was Crowley, who hardly looked up from his paper. "Real talk, how do I look?" He'd thrown on a pretty normal outfit but clothes from a couple years ago instead, as they were a bit more fitted. Crowley looked him over with detail before looking back down at the newspaper.

"You can't pull off bed-head, comb your hair." Stiles was too taken aback to realize this was more of a compliment that he otherwise looked good.

"I combed it, this is combed… Is it really not okay?"

"If it's any consolation, I think you look great, Stiles." Lucifer offered with the vaguest hint of a reassuring smile. Crowley scoffed though.

"Darling, you picked that vessel to try to seduce a 25 year old with a toxically masculine father, I don't think you're the best judge here…" Lucifer just guffawed.

"Hey! Sam worked out most of his internalized homophobia way before he met me, and besides, I had no intention of using sex appeal to get him to-" Stiles waved his arms through the air furiously, in mock panic, looking to Sam now instead.

"Sam, help please? He's gonna be here any minute." He practically begged.

"Uh, yeah, Stiles, um…" Sam looked over once he tried to pause the show he and Lucifer had been watching, settling finally to just miss a few seconds. "You look fine." He offered not really putting that much thought into it, already looking back to the TV. "Uh, I'd say just straighten your shirt a bit maybe."

"Great." Stiles said, still nervous and not really satisfied with the critiques, however honest they were. He instead hurried toward the kitchen for further assistance. "Dean!" Dean turned just as Stiles made it there, a questioning look on his face. "Please tell me how I look?" Dean gave a "fine" kind of look, putting down the knife he was using to chop vegetables and giving a quick rinse and wipe of his hands before coming over and putting his hands on Stiles' shoulders. He gave him a thorough once, twice, and third over, checking to see that everything one might observe about Stiles in close contact was in place as he figured Stiles wanted it. He pulled at Stiles overshirt a bit, making sure it sit properly, but still looked a bit messy. He went back to the sink to wet his hand and when he stepped back, ran it through Stiles' hair getting it just a little wet.

"Now style it a bit, mess it up, whatever." Dean told him, and Stiles obeyed, looking to him for confirmation. "Perfect. Did you brush your teeth? Deodorant?"

"Yeah." Stiles answered, feeling a bit better.

"Good. You got your phone?" Stiles nodded. "Keys?" He nodded again. "Mace?"

"Dean, I don't have mace." He frowned, not knowing why Dean expected him to. But Dean looked confused.

"Didn't we give you-" He seemed to take a minute to think back. "How the fuck did we not give you mace? I could've sworn- Alright, I'll be right back, don't go anywhere." Dean went around him and the table over to the basement door. He unlocked it, locked it again behind him even though he'd supposedly be right back, and of course it opened again a minute and a half later and he locked it behind him, bringing over a pretty big, but still pocket sized can of mace. Stiles wasn't going to complain honestly. There was no question he needed it, and when he thought about it, it was probably a good idea for all teens to carry a bit of mace or something for protection. Even if they weren't friends with werewolves and so on. "Now, you've really gotta be careful with this stuff. This is beyond bear strength. Like strong as you can legally own, and even that's pushing it. It has a bit of stuff in it to make it more helpful against a lot of supernatural creatures. Vampires, Werewolves, Demons, Wendigos- This shit's just the bomb, okay? The mace itself though is very strong- like 'you're gonna be blind for a week' strong, so no trying it out or pranks or anything, got it? It's for if your life or safety are in danger. Understood?"

"Isn't that a bit over the top?" Stiles asked, cursing his curiosity as he heard Juliet's thunderously loud whining by the door.

"For most things it works about as well or less than normal mace on humans. This is specifically designed for hunting, that's why." Dean nodded Stiles to go on, following him to the living room as he gladly hurried to the door as the knocks came. Stiles checked the peephole first, despite Juliet's insistent wagging. Seeing Derek there, he undid the chain and opened the door, welcoming him in as Juliet wiggled backward to let him in, but wanting to sniff at him at the same time. Derek smiled, petting Juliet in greeting, only giving a wider toothy one when he greeted Stiles, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

"That won't earn you any points with Dean." Crowley scoffed to him. Derek looked to Dean with casual curiosity, scratching Juliet's ear.

"Not fond of dogs?" Derek decided he shouldn't have asked as he earned a heated glare.

"Mind your business?" Dean suggested, angrily and obviously offended. "You two are to be back here by 1."

"Dean," Stiles sighed. "Commute?" Dean rolled his eyes.

"That's why you have 2 hours, not 1." Stiles gave him a look, but Dean shook his head. "Hey, don't give me that. If me and Cas can do with 40 minutes, you can make do with 120." Stiles rolled his eyes now. "And behave." Dean headed back towards the kitchen.

"He's that mad about this morning?" Derek asked wincing, not knowing what else he could have done to earn such a biting answer. Crowley squawked with laughter.

"I like him, he's an incredible idiot!" He remarked to Sam, who just rolled his eyes. Derek's expression was a mix of a half contained glare and confusion. Stiles just patted his shoulder.

"Babe, maybe kind of… just a small suggestion... not take conversation starters from an actual demon?" Derek took a moment to let that sink in. He'd realized that Crowley was apparently a demon, what with the hellhound and all. But he hadn't really thought about what exactly that meant. Like so. God, he felt so stupid.

"Sorry… How bad-" Stiles waved his hand flippantly.

"Not bad at all, he and Juliet just have... a rocky past…" Luc nodded, from the couch.

"Right, he's died so many times I doubt he even cares anymore."

"Died?!" Derek looked to Stiles and then to Juliet with wide eyes. "Juliet, you killed him?!" Derek asked completely serious, not thinking it might look odd to ask that of a dog as if expecting an answer. Juliet tilted her head nonchalantly, confirming, yes, she had. He looked back up to Stiles, terror in his eyes. "Stiles…"

"I- b- Sh-"Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, not knowing what to say. "She's a good girl now. She did that because she was told to, she can't help what she was raised for!" Derek responded with a pained 'But still' face. "Just proves how good a guard dog she'll be! Come ooooon, Derek, she's the sweetest! Give her a chance?" Derek took a deep breath, still genuinely terrified. Dean leaned out of the kitchen to shout in though.

"Or, you know, don't go? Because those are your options." Dean went back to what he was doing, indicating he didn't much care, or maybe, knew what his answer already was.

"Alright…" Derek sighed. "Just really hoping she doesn't eat us…" He nervously pet her once more.

"Great!" Stiles' grin lit up the foyer. "Um. We should go. Before another catastrophic revelation." Derek raised an eyebrow.

"Should I expect more than 'your adoptive dad was killed by a hellhound'?" Stiles opened his mouth to answer, but the three on the couch laughed, and he opted to just grab Derek's hand and get him to the car as soon as possible.

~!~

Derek frowned as he saw he almost walked into a familiar face. Stiles certainly wasn't any more pleased. But at least he faked it better.

"Mr. Harris! Wasn't expecting you here." Stiles managed to say not as awkward as he felt, just coming off a laugh as he and Derek walked into the small restaurant downtown.

"I'd assume." Harris said seeming equally displeased, as either of them. Derek bristled as Harris narrowed his eyes on Stiles. "Aren't you out of school due to injury, Mr. Stilinski? Feeling well enough to go on dates though, hm?" Derek could hear Stiles' well hidden sigh, but Stiles could hardly hide his glare.

"Well I'm sure you already know this, but in depth health studies have shown public schooling is an intense amount of emotional, mental, and physical labour, and puts even a healthy adolescent person through hell, with no payout to replenish them. Add an injury to an already not really prime specimen, and comparing that to recreational socialization proven to aid health and mood, and it's kind of silly for anyone to compare them…" Stiles shrugged, with a fake, almost smug smile. "But I mean you're on lunch. What d'you care, right? Enjoy your meal."
"Mm-hm…." Harris responded, unsurprisingly not buying the reasoning. "Just don't go exhausting yourself…" Harris went around them to the exit, being careful of his to go container. Stiles glared after him.

"God, he's such a jerk…" Stiles spat annoyed. Derek kept his mouth shut, figuring he didn't know the situation enough to suggest otherwise. He couldn't say he disagreed, but… part of him appreciated the jerk-ness he'd seen at least.

~!~

"No way, bullshit!" Stiles cried, laughing hysterically as Derek drove.

"I swear- I swear to god." Derek laughed with a wide smile.

"Then dude did it on purpose! You can't 'accidentally' throw someone out a window!" Stiles insisted giggling.

"I was there! They were fucking around and just-" Derek motioned his hand. "Three stories, fractured collarbone, seven stitches. I don't think I could've gotten away with that with just that." Stiles was gaping with a smile.

"And this is the same guy with the roach in his-" Derek nodded, laughing suddenly.

"Yeah! I swear, he had to be something, no way he was human." Derek shook his head, putting his eyes back on the road.

"That's insa-"

It happened so fast. Juliet's sudden barking was near deafening. Derek lost control of the wheel, no matter how hard he gripped, it just tore out of his hand. The car jerked as it turned, whipping out of their own lane. They didn't have the time to worry about the consequences of sliding into the wrong lane, as Derek saw the car hugging around the curve they had been approaching, and less than a second they both heard and felt it scraping the remaining back corner still in the proper lane. It ripped the tail light out as it zip down the road as if nothing had happened. Derek threw he hand out to Stiles' chest, and neck, before slamming on the breaks. They whipped just as quickly to a stop, and Derek slammed forward, belt not doing much to stop his head from whipping into the steering wheel. But at least his wounds were already healing. He reached out to Stiles, relieved he was at least moving.

"Stiles? Stiles, are you-" Derek muttered, head foggy.

"What the fuck." Stiles murmured in astonishment. "What the fuck was that? What kind of idiot drives like that!?" He exclaimed. Derek took his hand trying to comfort him. As he looked up out the windshield he thought he saw someone on the side of the rode. As his vision came back the figure went, and he looked to Stiles, who stared back at him concerned. "Fuck, you're bleeding. Derek, you- you're hurt." Stiles reached out to touch his face, wanting to help but not knowing how. Derek shook his head, but pressed his cheek into his hand as he felt his own blood drip from his brow.

"It's fine, I'm fine. It's healing, it's just healing the whiplash first. I'll be fine in a second…" They both leaned back, catching their breath as Juliet whined and sniffed at them both, headbutting them. After a minute, Derek pulled back into their lane, running through what had just happened in his head. Stiles shook his head.

"Nice turn though…" He murmured to Derek softly. "Fuck…"

Derek didn't know how to say it. Or even believe it.