Stiles clutched his side as he tore through the woods surrounding the old Hale house. The full moon illuminated his path clearly but in his haste he kept tripping over logs and roots. I need to get to him before it's too late, he thought to himself. Suddenly, the toe of his sneaker caught on something and he flew through the air before landing heavily on his face in a pile of dead leaves.

Seriously, how is this my life?

His thoughts were broken by the sound of wolves howling in the distance. Stiles' blood ran cold. They don't sound like they do after a successful hunt, he thought. They sound…mournful.

The bottom dropped out of his stomach; he was too late.

48 hours earlier

Stiles was lying (or horizontally reclined, as he told to his dad) on his bed working on his trigonometry homework when he heard the purr of an engine pull into his driveway. He shot off the bed and ran to the window expecting to see Derek's black Camaro but instead saw an older model Chevrolet park behind his Jeep.

"All right!" he yelled, fist pumping the air.

He scrambled over the debris strewn across his room and pounded down the stairs and onto the porch just as the two men exited the car.

"Dean!"

He launched himself off the porch and into the driver of the Impala.

Dean Winchester affectionately ruffled the top of Stiles' head as if there was still hair there and Stiles rolled his eyes. Dean never returned his hugs. Sam said it had to do with Dean being emotionally stunted and hyper-masculine but Stiles always gave Dean a hug first. He thought that Dean just looked like the kind of person who hadn't been hugged enough as a kid; besides, everyone knew a Stilinski hug was the best.

The second man had finished untangling his limbs from the car and was striding around the hood to join Dean and Stiles.

"Sam!"

Stiles grinned as the taller man wrapped his arms around him and squeezed lightly. Sam Winchester is a man who knows the value of hugs, Stiles thought. How he and Dean are brothers is beyond me.

"Hey Stiles," Sam said. "How ya been?"

Stiles hesitated a moment before launching into a tirade about how unfair Mr. Harris was giving him detention again today because he had deviated from the experiment they were supposed to be doing in regards to photosynthesis. He knew exactly what he was doing; it wasn't his fault that Scott hadn't been paying attention.

"It was for science, I totally had it under control, I just wanted to see if it could be done," he said. "It wasn't my fault Scott dropped the jar holding the plant."

"Your teacher gave you detention because you dropped a plant?" Dean asked incredulously.

Stiles looked a little embarrassed.

"Well, no, he gave me detention because the plant was on fire and may have caught Danny's back pack on fire too," he said, rubbing his neck.

"Stiles. How did a plant catch on fire?" Sam asked, exchanging a look with Dean.

"I only wanted to see if the plant could survive on a mixture of water and rubbing alcohol," he said quickly. "How was I supposed to know that it would make the leaves inherently flammable?"

Dean let out a chuckle at that. "Nerd," he said, throwing a fond look at Sam. "I'm surrounded by nerds."

"Hey, I'm not a nerd!" Stiles said indignantly. "If anything, I am a geek and you know what they say about us inheriting the earth."

Sam snorted. "I'm pretty sure that was the 'meek,' Stiles. Any idea when your dad is going to be home?"

Stiles sighed. "Well I don't think he's working a double shift tonight, so let me call the station and let him know you're here. Come on in."

After a 10 minute long conversation with his dad about what was acceptable takeout for dinner, he finally conceded and let his dad order fries with his heart-attack inducing burger instead of a salad.

"Just this once and don't forget my curly fries," he said into the phone before hanging up.

He turned to the boys seated at his kitchen table. "Beers?"

Dean readily agreed but Sam waved off the offer and Stiles grabbed two beers from the fridge. He set the first one down in front of Dean and sat down at the table while trying (and failing) to open one for himself.

Dean and Sam exchanged another look before Sam reached over and snagged the beer out of his hands.

"Aren't you a little young for a beer, Stiles?" he asked, as he opened the beer and took a sip.

"Yeah, not to mention your dad would kill us if he knew we let you have a beer," Dean said.

"What my dad doesn't know, won't kill me," Stiles said with what he hoped was an innocent look.

"Yeah, right," Dean said with a snort. "Not gonna happen kid."

"Fine," he said with a long suffering sigh. "Party poopers. What brings you two down to our little neck of the woods?"

Again, Dean and Sam exchanged a look, but this time it was indecipherable to Stiles.

"Um, you know, just in the neighbourhood, thought we'd drop in and see you guys," Sam said, dropping his eyes to the table.

Stiles peeked a glance at Dean and saw him fidgeting with the label on his beer bottle. What gives?

He snorted.

"Yeah, right, cuz Sioux Falls, North Dakota is next door neighbours with Beacon Hills," he said dryly. Stiles was an expert at lying – mostly to Scott and his dad he thought with a twinge. And now I can't even lie to Scott because of his stupid wolf-y powers. But that meant he was also pretty good at telling if someone else was lying. Not that the Winchesters weren't making it super obvious or anything.

"So, what really brings you guys here?"

Again the Winchesters shared a look, before Sam turned to Stiles.

"Your dad called us. He needed our help on a case," he said.

His stomach dropped as his heart began to race. Why would Dad call the Winchesters to help out with his case? Does he know they weren't really animal attacks?

"Oh?" Stiles said. "Are you guys secretly like consulting detectives or something? Like one solves crimes and the other blogs about it?"

Sam chuckled at the reference but Dean looked blank, which wasn't surprising. Dean's pop culture references and taste in music were strictly confined to the '80s.

"Not exactly," he said, but before he could elaborate further Stiles heard his father's cruiser pull into the driveway and his stomach growled in anticipation of the curly fries he knew were in the paper bags piled in the front seat. His hungry beat out his curiosity and he excused himself from the table to help his dad carry in the food.

Dinner that night was more fun than Stiles could remember having with his dad in a while, as the Winchesters bantered back and forth and his dad chimed in occasionally with a dry remark. He kept trying to lead the conversation back to what they were doing in Beacon Hills in the first place or what it was exactly they did for a living, but after several unsuccessful tries he gave up and decided to just enjoy himself. His dad was smiling, something he hadn't seen in a while and it made his chest constrict a little thinking about it. I haven't seen him this relaxed since before Scott was bitten and my entire life went to hell. He thought about how much he hated lying to his dad about everything and how much extra stress he was causing him and it made him sick to his stomach. He set down his unfinished burger and looked at his container of half eaten curly fries wistfully. Nope. His appetite was well and truly gone. He pushed himself away from the table and realized three sets of eyes were trained on him.

"Guess I wasn't as hungry as I thought," he lied. "I'm gonna go finish my homework."

He wrapped his food up and shoved it in the fridge before booking it up the stairs before his dad's incredulous look became questioning.

Stiles slipped quickly into his room and shut the door before flipping on the light switch.

Immediately, he choked back a yelp as he realized he wasn't alone in the room.

"Jesus, Derek," he said, hand over his heart trying to slow his rapid pulse. "Ever heard of a door? Or maybe a phone call? Or possibly a text message? A little warning might be nice in the future."

Derek didn't move from his position near the window. Stiles took a step forward before he noticed the werewolf's eyes glowing bright blue.

"What?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

"Who. Are. They." Derek growled through his fangs.

"They're just friends of my dad's, seriously calm down, I know you're really territorial but this isn't your territory and you don't have to play guard dog every time someone new-"

Faster than the time it took for Stiles to blink, Derek crossed the room and pinned him against his door, cutting Stiles off before he could say anything else.

Derek growled low in his chest and the feeling reverberated through Stiles. It wasn't altogether unpleasant, he thought. Once you got past the razor sharp teeth poised inches away from his jugular, that was.

"You never told me you were friends with Hunters."