Black Love [SUPERWOLF]

Hunter Gatherer

Desperate times, call for desperate measures. Or, at least, something like that.

Allison, with the upper half of her body exposed to the nightly wind, outstretched her hand to Stiles, exclaiminglhy, "Hurry up!" Looing between her bedroom, and the one who hung from a vane, she seethed, "Will one of you help me?"

Shrugging in a meaningless gesture, Scott defended, "I am enjoying the veiw."

"You insisted you could do it," Derek includes.

With his hands grasping the window sill, his body only half-in the bedroom, Stiles seethed, "You all suck."

"I helped you up!"

"Holding my hand, but not pulling, isn't exactly helpful!"

Exasperated, Alison asked, "Why are you here? Scott and I were... busy."

"Sam is here."

"Sam?" the werewolf blinked. "As in, Sam and Dean?"

"No," Stiles drawled sneeringly, "Sam as in Sam and Colby, what do you think?"

Nodding curtly, the Argent inquired, "Sooo?"

"Sooo," Stiles replied mockingly, "I brought my personal spy gear and we need your bedroom."

"Spy gear?" Scott inquired.

"He means me."

"We need your bedroom for our stake out."

"Stake out?"

"Is there an echo in here? Yes."

"What in God's name let you think that was a good idea?"

"Perhaps the fact that your Dad and the Winchesters, are, oh, what was it, Derek? Old, 'work buddies'? And what is it your Father does again? Hmm.... Oh, that's right! Hunts doggies!"

"They're hunters?"

"We don't know for certain," Derek deflected.

"Uh," almost dumbfounded, Stiles answered, "yes. We do."

"No. We don't."

Alison, with her slim fingers combing her scattered curls, said reluctantly, "What are you trying to prove, Stiles?"

Blinking back in surprise, the mundane answered, "Trying to prove that Tweedle One and Tweedle Two are hunters."

"Brothers, Stiles."

"What?"

"You know," she answered sneeringly, "Tweedle One and Tweedle Two-your brothers. I understand you are in this dark place right now, but what are you going to do when this is all over? Maybe they're hunters, maybe they're not. But that doesn't change the fact that they are your brothers. That they are blood. You are trying to push away two people who dropped everything - just so they can be here for you, because they care for you. You owe them the benefit of the doubt. You owe them a chance."

Stiles, with his face twisting into a tight grimace,replied evenly, "I don't owe them anything."

"Then just give it to them! Because pushing them away won't help you, or anyone. They aren't your Father, they aren't your Mother. But they're here. Your parents aren't."

"Alison―" Scott spoke gently, for he or Allison's benefit he didn't know.

"You should know better than anyone Scott, what he is trying to do. Hell, even you, Derek! This isn't healthy, he needs to grieve. Not obsess over something that changes nothing! Because in the end his parents will be dead, and the Winchesters will be here."

Steeping forward, he Alpha stretched his hand out as though he'd shield Stiles form Alison's words. "You need to leave."

Alison, visibly stiffening, answered in false bravery; "This is my room."

Almost laughing, Derek replied, "Do you think I care? Get out."

Scott, taking Alison by the forearm, said gently: "Just give them a minute."

"No, no. It's fine, I'm fine, we're all fine. But just remember this, Alison"-Stiles turned to Alison-"when my brothers do turn out to be hunters, and kill your little Boy Toys, just remember, they deserved a chance." Stiles, wordlessly held Derek by the hand, he whirled down the spiral staircase, not sparing a goodbye nor an explanation as to where he was approaching - even as Derek recalled his name again and again. No, he didn't stop. Not until he saw Chris Argent, staring blankly at Stiles. "What are you doing here?" Chris asked colly, leaning himself against the front door. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

"Is that so?" Chris, all but sneered. "Sounded like a bit more than... nothing. Say, how come I didn't see you walk in?"

Smiling so innocent, you almost couldn't tell it'd been forced, Stiles answered; "Well, you know how wolves are with windows. It's like a doggy door to them, almost."

"Stiles?" The hand, that had already gripped Derek tight as though it were a pen, tightened at the sound of Sam Winchester's voice. But his grip nearly fallen when he saw Dean Winchester beside his brother.

Irreproachable, the eldest Winchester asked, "What's all this chit-chat about wolves?"

"It's just a expression."

"Do you know Stiles?"

Stiffly, he answered, "Yes." Curt, and shortly, he adds mindlessly, "he is our brother. We were telling youu about."

Sneeringly, Stiles retorted, "The blood test hasn't come back yet."

In fatal attemot to break the tension, Sam placed himself between the two. "What are you doing here, Stiles? I thought you and Derek had a date."

"We mistakingly thought Scott and Alison were joining us," Derek cut in - glancing briefly at the mundane who held little flare in his lies. "Turns out they have other plans."

"I said you are welcomed to join us for dinner." Alison, perched at the staircase said, tugging at Scott's hand as though he'd recieve a message in the simple action.

"We wouldn't want to intrude."

Dean, with his hazel eyes narrowing as though Derek were a blurred image, suggested roughly, "Why don't you let the kid answer for himself?"

With nearly only a second spared, Stiles answered vaguely, "Like Derek said, we wouldn't want to intrude."

The eldest Argent, with a grin so wide it almost fooled Stiles, said oto him, "Nonsense! Stiles, you and Derek are welcomed to join." Though Derek spoke to both, Chris' eyes were set sdoul-ly on Stiles. As if hinting something, to the younger. "I promise you won't be disappointed."