Same Old Song and Dance(Sterek)

Unravel

Stiles drew in deep labored breaths as he tried to hear the mumblings between Derek and Boyd. He hated everyone fussing over him, it made him feel useless. He hated feeling useless.

Allison squeezed his hand, pulling his attention to the brunette sitting next to him.

"Hey, you should be resting," Allison urged with a pained smile.

The dark puffy circles under her own eyes gave away how exhausted she was. It had been a long night already. The look on her face reminded him of the night before their graduation, before the branding ritual.

"Do you remember when we were pouring our molds the night before graduation?" Stiles spoke quietly around ragged breaths.

Allison frowned but nodded.

"This is a waste of time," Stiles huffed as he opened the lid of his mold to see the warped metal. "This dagger will snap the first strike I make. Silver is too soft."

"It's not meant to be used, but yeah this is ridiculous," Allison wiped at her tired eyes. They'd been down here for four hours.

"Then what's the point?" Stiles asked, tossing the failed attempt aside.

"It's symbolic," Victoria's voice answered sternly from the doorway to the shop.

Stiles and Allison both straightened in place, like they were standing at attention for their captain.

She stepped forward, her hands clasped behind her, "You know the Argent family were the first hunters. It's where the myth that Werewolves are weak to silver comes from."

"We know the lectures mom, we heard them a thousand times in class," Allison sighed, rolling her eyes.

"And you'll hear it again," Victoria snapped, her voice loud and sharp. She now stood in front of them.

Allison tensed but didn't respond.

"This is a privilege. There are unsuspecting people who cross paths with these monsters with no knowledge of how to protect themselves. You have the knowledge. You have the duty. What is our motto?" Victoria's tone was demanding as she looked between Allison and Stiles.

The two answered in unison, "We hunt those who hunt us."

"Exactly. Now stop complaining and do it again," She slammed the dagger mold down in front of Stiles, causing the pair to flinch.

When Victoria left the room, Stiles turned to Allison. Her hands shook as she poured the melted silver into her own arrowhead mold. He grabbed her hand and steadied it.

She looked up at him with puffy tired eyes, "Sometimes I wish I was blind to all of this."

"Sometimes I think the same thing, but then I remember that my dad was blind to all this. Look where that got him," Stiles squeezed her hand.

"I'm glad you're here, Stiles. I couldn't do this alone."

"If this...if this kills me," Stiles started, causing Allison to turn her head away, not wanting to hear what he was going to say.

"Stiles, please," Allison begged, her eyes clenched shut to hold back tears.

"Just listen," He squeezed her hand, forcing her to look at him.

"I can't lose you," She whispered.

"But you might," He winced as pain wracked through his body. "And if you do, promise me something."

Allison pursed her lips, waiting for Stiles to continue.

"The hunter's motto," he rasped.

"We hunt those who hunt us," Allison repeated the mantra she'd be forced to live by growing up. She looked to Stiles with a confused frown.