Crossfire

.changes.

Stiles would never admit it to Derek, or any other member of his pack for that matter, but he kind of misses Sam and Dean. They'd parted in the clearing of the forest three years ago, after Dean gave Stiles a phone number and said, "Call any time, kid," and Stiles hadn't seen the Winchesters since. And it wasn't for lack of trying on Stiles' end. He called Dean at least once every few months to update his cousins on... well, just about everything.

He called them when they found out Lydia was something called a Banshee. Sam and Stiles had talked on the phone for hours after that, exchanging notes and extensive research on everything about the creature that Lydia was. With Sam's help, Stiles taught Lydia how to control her abilities and even how to direct her scream like a weapon.

Stiles called when he graduated High school. He invited them to attend, and even reserved two seats between his father and Scott's mom in case they showed up, but they'd been tied up with a case in Maine dealing with a Wendigo. Sam even called back the next day to apologize for missing the ceremony.

And of course, Stiles called every once and awhile just to tell his cousins that he was constantly learning to control his Druid abilities and reassure them that the pack was behaving. Dean had lectured him profusely when Stiles shared the news that he was training to take on the role of Hale Pack Emissary, warning him the dangers and responsibilities of advising a pack of werewolves. Dean had just huffed incoherently when Stiles told him Derek had already given him a pretty similar lecture.

Through the years, a lot changed for Stiles. He graduated, moved out of his father's house and into Derek's loft, and attended the Beacon County police academy to take a job at the BHPD with his dad. It took some getting used to, but Stiles was growing up and he was settling nicely into the permanent role of the Alpha's mate, even learning to accept and enjoy the title "Pack Mom" that the betas had placed upon him.

In all honesty, Stiles loved his life. He loved that he had an incredible werewolf boyfriend who woke him up with fresh coffee and kisses every morning, regardless of Stiles' morning breath. He loved that he was preparing to become the pack Emissary and was settling into his magic. He loved his pups, his family, and knowing that he was an important part of the pack even though he was just mostly human.

But he missed his cousins. Talking to them on the phone so often was a reminder that the Winchesters were out there and, even though he was never really close to them, they were blood. They were family. And being part of a werewolf pack made him realize just how important family is.

So when Stiles' phone rings one Saturday morning as he's shoveling toast into his mouth, lighting up with Dean's name, Stiles grins. He pushes the talk button and presses it against his ear. "Hey dudes."

"Stiles!" Dean exclaims. His voice is light, but there's an undertone he doesn't like and Stiles is instantly on edge.

"Dean," Stiles says. He swallows his toast, narrowing his eyes at the counter. "What's wrong?"

Dean lets out a sharp, nervous laugh. "What makes you think something's wrong?"

"Come on, man," Stiles says. "You suck at lying. Just tell me what's up."

"Umm..." Dean sounds distracted, anxious, and Stiles wants to prompt him for actual words, but he simply waits.

Derek wanders into the room wearing only a pair of jeans. His hair is still wet from the shower. He quirks one impressive eyebrow at Stiles, nodding toward the phone. He can undoubtedly hear Dean, too, and he's curious. Stiles shakes his head and puts the device on speaker so his boyfriend doesn't have to eavesdrop.

"Look, nothing is wrong," Dean eventually sighs. And it sounds like the truth. "But we need to see you."

Stiles feels his eyes widen in surprise. Not once in three years has his cousin suggested a visit and this now doesn't really sound like a social call. Derek looks just as shocked, but guarded. He's still wary of the hunters, especially on his own land.