The man began to shout at the bus, some things that Stiles had never heard before. Between the swearing, he could make out what the man was saying: "Idiot, could have killed Sammy. My little brother nearly died." Stiles assumed 'Sammy' was small, a kid, but the person that stepped out of the truck was huge... 6"7 Stiles assumed, though he could never be sure with height. Sammy dragged his brother back to the car and whispered at him.
"Dean, I'm fine, I don't even have a scratch on me." The one that Stiles guessed was Dean, scowled and turned to the bus. Then he made eye contact with Stiles. It was only brief, but Dean stopped and stared at Stiles, before hastily saying something to Sammy.
Stiles leaned over at Nico, "Do you know them?" Nico shook his head.... "But, I think they might be my brothers......"
Dean climbed onto the bus and grabbed both Stiles and Nico. He was surprisingly strong, to be able to lift two 18 year olds. Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Can I help you."
"Damn right you can help me."
Nico sniggered... Stiles and Dean looked at him. "Inside joke," he muttered. Dean was a very handsome guy; his jawline strong, and a perfect face, full of kindness, and sadness, and pain. Dean caught Nico staring at him and bit his lip. "You have a boyfriend," Nico thought to himself. Stiles started to cough, and Dean let them go. "Follow me, we can't talk here."
They drove in the Impala through New York streets, at a speed criminal to a Grand Prix racer. And then, they were on Long Island. Dean stopped the car. "Get out," he ordered. Sam turned to him. "Dean, you don't have to treat them like criminals. It's not their fault."
"What?" Stiles asked. "I don't like being talked about."
"Join the club." Nico muttered.
Dean smiled at them, and they walked up a large hill..... An entrance stood at the top. It read: CAMP HALF-BLOOD. "Home, sweet home," Nico said, as they walked through, into a place Stiles had never even imagined.
