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The first time it crosses his mind, he nearly falls over a root, his concentration slipping away with the hysterical laughter that bubbles up his throat.
Allison is running next to him and wheezes his name under her heavy breathing. It sounds more like an insult than concern, but Stiles is too busy finding his footing again to decipher the different layers, still coughing the giggles away.
They´re running through the woods - what else really - and don´t exactly have time for any missteps, because the hunters behind them are close and while they seem to have the marksmanship of first-class storm troopers, they´re entirely too fond of using their hunting knifes for Stiles liking.
He manages to close the little distance his stunt has brought between him and Allison and jumps over a big root. He grins as he runs, repeating the lines in his head inappropriately cheerful. He keeps himself from singing under his breath, but it´s a close call.
They´re zig-zagging their way through the forest like rabbits, crossing each other´s paths and side stepping trees. It´s a practiced thing between them, so familiar that they don´t need any kind of communication anymore to know where the other will go. It took them some time to get it.
They´re good together, now. With Allison´s bow and Stiles´ herbs, their brains and mouths, their wholly humanness, combined to a devastating team, they tend to crush the expectations of most enemies. They build much on the effect of surprise, he´s the first to admit it, but they´ve successfully weaseled their way out of situations often enough to say they´re not entirely incapable of fighting in a world of the supernatural. Most times, the fighting involves a lot of running. Seriously, so much running. When Lacrosse wouldn´t include throwing a ball into a tiny goal, Stiles would be first bench in a minute. Maybe he should join the track team again.
Allison makes a hard curve in front of him, cutting to the left in an inelegant dive. He keeps running straight on, until he can´t see her in the corner of the eyes anymore and then turns left too. They don´t separate on the run, even if it seems to be the cleverest thing to do. They learned the hard way, that they´re still only a challenge when combined. At least against half a dozen hunters from two states over.
He passes their destination, a huge fallen tree, on the long side, the branches swiping his left arm, when a howl blares through the night from somewhere behind him. That´s Scott, coming nearer, and that´s good, but also annoying, because it should be Isaac, damn it.
Another howl answers, just when Allison appears in front of him at the other end of the tree and changes direction in a near right angle to run towards him. Behind her, he sees another figure erupting from under the tree, at exactly the place Allison turned right, resuming her way in the direction from before. Stiles doesn´t have time to admire Erica´s precision, though, because he full-stops and slides in a hidden hole under the dead tree, Allison above him on a branch, already ducked down and her bow ready. He hears his substitute – who should be Scott, like they agreed on – cracking out of his stash, resuming Stiles` way of running. Isaac runs along the long side of the tree for two seconds more, before he turns right and vanishes into the woods at a slightly different path than Erica.
It looks, perfectly so, like they´re separating in an attempt to confuse their chasers.
The hunters fall for it without a clue, falsely secure in their belief of outnumbering their prey. They don´t even notice that the prey are different people now.
Hidden behind thick branches and the darkness of the night, Stiles watches them split up, three for Erica, three for Isaac.
It´s a success, the exchange went smother than Stiles had thought it would, but he can´t bring himself to celebrate this small victory. Firstly, because they´re not done yet, secondly because he can´t help being worried about Erica and Isaac. And yeah, he´s aware that Erica is running towards the quarry where Boyd´s waiting and Isaac is heading straight to Derek´s camaro, he knows, but right now they´re running away from three trained hunters each, who all dedicated their life to wiping the earth of every supernatural they don´t like which seems to be the majority. Isaac isn´t as used to this being-the-bait-shit as Scott, Allison and himself, and neither is Erica. He´s giving a fuck on the being-a-werewolf-bullshit.
“Stiles,” Allison whispers warningly and he nods sharply. There´s no time for this right now.
He uncurls the fists he didn´t notice he had made and climbs swiftly out of the hole, running through the woods once more, following Erica and the stupid hunters that thought they could invade their town. It´s prime time for some hunters to become the hunted.
Allison´s taking the lead and Stiles concentrates on the task ahead as he follows her. Somewhere behind them is Scott. He´ll meet up with them near the quarry, coming from the right, but staying hidden. Allison will go around the left side and Stiles will take the front. They`ll circle the hunters, the quarry in the hunter´s back, and then it will depend on how they´ll split up. If they split up. What they will better do, or Stiles will have to come up with adjustments, again, and just for once a plan actually working out would be a nice change.
He can´t hear Scott, but he should be relatively near. The tune is still playing in Stiles head, like a freaking jingle from the ads, but he likes it. It´s so damn suitable for this night, for his life, to be honest. Maybe he should sing it at karaoke night next month.
Ten minutes later, his lungs are burning like fire, and they arrive just in time. Erica´s in the middle of the quarry, her dark dyed braid dancing on her back, the hunters maybe 40 yards behind her, not very far out of the forest, when Allison´s arrow hits the earth in front of them. They come to a halt, turning frantically, searching for the source. It´s Stiles` time to do what he does best.
“Hey, shitheads!”, he bellows.
He can shout louder, but he just ran half a fucking hour, cut him some slack. He crashes out of the tree line.
“Let her go!”, he heaves.
He sees them recognizing him, hesitating, asking with their stupid faces where their buddies are. They´re still professionals though, so the hesitation only lasts three seconds tops, before the hunter in the front of the group, the most experienced one it seems, barks a command and keeps on running after Erica. Stiles breathes out in relief. From her hidden stash, Allison sends some well-aimed arrows after him, missing close enough that it seems like she´s really attempting to stop him.
The remaining two turn around to Stiles and scan the trees for Allison. Stiles exclaims an unhappy No, loud enough for them to hear, as Erica vanishes around a corner, the hunter out of shooting range behind her.
The hunters are aiming their guns at him, coming nearer, and he retreats a little back to the tree line, still talking.
“Look, assholes, what´s your fucking problem? Leave us alone! We did nothing wrong!”
“Your friends are monsters, stupid boy. They did enough,” one of them says, cold and harsh, like Stiles is some kind of dumb toddler. “We don´t want to hurt you, but if you keep helping them, we can´t let you go.”
It´s the same bullshit nearly every hunter says in some variations. There are good people among them, Stiles knows, but sadly they´re the minority. He has no hesitation for these crazy fuckers.
They´re near enough the forest again, the third hunter out of sight, so Stiles doesn´t hide his grin this time and outright laughs at them. They are so wrong.
Allison is still in her tree and Stiles can imaging her face right now, all steel and ice. She´s so beautiful like this. Scott creeps up slowly and silently on the right, ready for the signal, probably with that determined look in his eyes he reserves for hunting enemies and fucking Stiles until he comes hands-free. Isaac should climb into Derek´s car right now and somewhere in front of them Boyd´s waiting for Erica on Scott´s motorcycle.
“If they´re the monsters, what are you? Killing some high school kids isn´t exactly hero material,” he sneers, carefully avoiding looking at anything but them. Just a little nearer, just two steps more, and they´ll be near enough.
They´re aiming their guns a little higher and take a step. “You know nothing about werewolves. They´re not your friends anymore. They´re animals-“
They never get to finish the sentence. At their next step, perfectly timed with the word animals, Stiles shouts and throws a vial with his favorite herbs in their direction. At the same time, an arrow pierces the gun hand of one of them and Scott dashes out of the woods, crashing full-force into the other.
Stiles runs towards them, pulling out another vial, as the one with the arrow in his hand curses and tries to grab his knife with the other hand, already dizzy from the powder floating around him. Stiles kicks him hard against the shoulder and then steps violently on his hand when he falls. He screams, trying to pull away his broken hand. The other one is trying to strike Scott in the face, but he´s lailing like a kid, his movements sluggish from the powder doing its magic. Scott just rolls his eyes and pulls his arms behind his back, still holding his breath.
“So,” Stiles spits out. Allison appears next to him, her bow on her back, and together they stand above the hunters. They glare up to them. When they recognize Allison, their eyes get wide and one of them is abruptly turning his head to where Erica and the hunter disappeared. Stiles laughs.
“Yeah, that´s right, fuckers. You got your balls busted. And now, listen closely.”
He drops into a crouch, his forearms on his thighs and smiles his best smile, wide and terrifying and deranged.
“We don´t want to hurt you, but if you´re not helping us, we can´t let you go,” he says, relishing in the reference. He pops the vial in his hand open, the one with the hallucination powders. They betted on getting the younger hunters for a reason – more likely to crumble under pressure and weird monsters from the depts of their fears.“So you better tell us exactly where she is or I´ll have to show you that my friends aren´t the monsters here.”
When they go back through the forest twenty minutes later, they know where they´re keeping Lydia, and Stiles already called Derek. Scott´s carrying one of the hunters – who´s knocked out - like a sand sack above his shoulder, muttering how freaking creepy Stiles is when he puts on his sicko show. Allison snickers. Stiles can´t wait to watch Scott eating her out when this is finally over.
Stiles hums the refrain of his new favorite pop song, planning their next steps, texting with Boyd.
Because he´ll be damned if he is helpless ever again when one of his friends is in danger. Because he´s planning on running with the wolves for a whole lot longer.