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I am a little bunny,
My strong legs are for jumping.
Warning others of danger,
I use my feet for thumping.




He was fucked. 

"This is why we don't trust predators. All they ever see is the meal in front of their nose. Big picture say what now? Group safety and pack well-being who? Common sense? Barely know her!" Stiles thought to himself, keeping a running commentary as he clenched his jaw tight against letting the vitriol, or his secrets, vomit out all over the gathering of idiots that were laying down the law for him as if they had any right.

"Are you serious right now." Stiles was impressed with how utterly done he sounded even to his own ears. He was practically vibrating with rage at the nerve of these puppies. "I'm a liability? Since fucking when? When I was saving your ass from crazy-Argent bullets?" He jabbed an accusing finger at Derek's face, only to receive an eyeroll in return. He kicked the side of the couch, making everyone jump at the noise, or more like jump in shock that it was Stiles who was getting violent. Like hell was he going to let this upstart young Alpha dismiss his contribution to their pack. Stiles may not be an Alpha himself but every instinct he had said with no uncertainty that he was belonged at the top here. "Or was it when I held your ungrateful ass up for hours in the pool while being hunted by a raging kanima? Or was I a liability when I saved the pack from crazy Argents AGAIN just last month?" he wasn't yelling anymore, a bitter calm settling over him as he became hyper aware of every wolf in the room. "Was I a liability when I was setting HIS murdering ass on fire?" he spat, pointing accusingly at the newly resurrected eldest Hale, who only raised his hands in placation.

"Please keep me out of this. I was completely against abandoning you to the Alpha Pack's no doubt tender mercies. You are, and have always been, the only competent person in this tragic troupe of clowns." Peter met the disgusted looks of the teenagers with a grimace of his own distaste. To his credit he obviously wasn't any happier about this than Stiles was, though his actual reasons for his discomfort remained a mystery.

Stiles wrinkled his nose, resisting the urge to stamp threateningly in warning toward the wolf. "Great. Now I'm flattered and disturbed. Thanks but no thanks for the vote of confidence, zombiewolf."

"Stiles, we aren't abandoning you," Scott said, giving Peter a glare, as if he had any right to judge based on his own poor choice of allies lately. "But you can't help us fight a pack of Alphas. You're better off away from all this. Once they see you don't have any contact with us they'll lose interest in you. You'll be safe."

Stiles gave a bark of laughter. "Do you actually believe that?  I take back anything I ever said about you having secret depths. You're a fucking moron. I'll be safe?" He could almost feel his ribs throb with phantom pain from the beat down he had taken in the Argent's basement last month while Scott and Derek hadn't even been aware he was missing. 

"How will I be safe, Scott? Alone? No one to watch my back, my dad ignorant of all this wolf bullcrap and a big target already painted on me and my family from all our recent, werewolf-related gang wars?" Stiles snorted. “Right, because this is what every pack does to keep its weak members safe, right? Push them out of the group? Let them run alone among predators and watch them get devoured from a distance?"

"No," Peter didn't raise his voice. In fact, the older wolf looked unusually grim, his trademark smarm nowhere to be seen. "A pack is supposed to protect it's vulnerable members. To shelter and care for them. The weak, old and young," his gaze flicked to Derek, "The wounded. Wolves aren't built to survive alone. We are meant to support each other. That's what pack is supposed to be." 

Oh. Right. Stiles knew full well this wasn't how things were supposed to be done, his mom had taught him well, but it made a twisted kind of sense, didn't it? Where would Derek have learned how an Alpha acts to protect its pack? From his long dead mother who thought letting the largest, most vicious hunting family live right under her pack's nose was a good idea? Or from his sister, who seemed all too comfortable with abandoning her half dead uncle in alone for years, checked into a hospital in enemy territory under his own name. That was practically throwing meat in front of hungry lions so that you have time to escape. That's the Alpha Derek had admired and mourned. Suddenly Stiles had an aching sympathy for Peter's need to murder and bleed dry those who hurt him.

Talk about precedent.

"Fuck you. I know what being pack gets me. I've been pack this whole time and all it got me was shot at, hunted down, kidnapped, beat up by hunters, and you guys spitting on me the second I come limping to any of you for comfort.”

He sent a particularly vicious look toward the corner where Erica and Boyd were lounging across the love seat like assholes, pretending to be so unaffected and aloof, like this whole thing bored them. After their shared captivity and the ensuing torture together at Gerard's hands Stiles had thought they understood each other. He had even entertained the thought that they were finally going to be a real pack after he had managed to break free and the three of them had staggered out of that basement, bloodied but euphoric at their escape. But no, together they had returned to Derek, but instead of building a family they just compounded on their horrible circle of abuse, mistrust, and smug, specieist nonsense. Too cool to be touched by emotional connections, too strong to admit they ever made mistakes. It made Stiles twitch with a desperate desire to flee every time he had be in the same room as them. A cornered wolf was a wolf that would bite first ask questions never.

Finally, like a wave crashing against a rocky cliff and then calmly slipping away back into the ocean, it was clear to him that this was over. They wanted him out? Fine. He wanted out too. This pack was doomed by their own choice and he wasn't going to be dinner for the Alphas. 

He grabbed his bag off the table, ignoring the annoyed fang Derek flashed as he scooped all the files full of hard earned info on the Alpha pack's activity that he had only just brought over minutes ago before they ambushed him with their wonderful plan. He ignored Scott's confused protests as shoved them into his bag. It was his info, earned through his hard work. It would be coming home with him so he could help his family.

“Good luck assholes. I’m done. Too bad for you guys." He paused. 

"I wonder," He gave the room a slow, considering look just for the drama of it all. "With me gone, who gets to take my place? Who gets to be the new weakest link who will be sacrificed to keep the stronger wolves alive?" Blank stares met him from the teen side of the room. 

Huh, they really weren't getting it, were they? 

"Which one of you will it be? Issac? Looking forward to get left for hunters to torture because you were weak enough to get caught? Erica and Boyd already had that fun experience, although I wonder if desertion knocks you down low enough on the wolfy ladder of sacrifice that you two wont be considered much of a loss if they have to use you as bait for the next monster trying to kill us all. I wonder what happens when you run out of weak pack to sacrifice, Derek?" he taunted as he threw the backpack over his shoulders. "Will you bite more kids to use as cannon fodder? " He snorted, shaking his head. "You’re all just a bunch of pathetic carnivores caught in a mad scramble to avoid being the next dead body. Go screw yourselves.”"

There were low growls from every wolf except Peter, but even with his heightened senses Stiles couldn't tell who the growls were directed at. Could be him, could be their dearest Alpha. 

“You’re safer without us.” Derek repeated, standing firm, and Stiles tutted. Old dog old tricks.

“You bet your ass I am. Because this, isn't a pack. You never worked together, like a family should. I never should have forgotten that." He stamped his foot in frustration, not caring one bit that it made him look like a petulant toddler. He had been hiding and burying himself for too long and look what it got him. "I can't believe I chose you mutts over my own family."

"Stiles, that's not fair—" Scott started whining, but Stiles had no interest in hearing even a bit of it.

"Have fun dying. I'm going to come clean to my dad, like I should have done from the start, and we are going to keep ourselves and our town safe.” He wished he could slam the door but the stupid loft had stupid, heavy-ass doors that ruined his dramatic exit just a bit.

“No you aren't. You aren't going to tell anyone about us.” Derek's furious command came from right behind him and all logical thought in Stiles just flipped off like a light. 

Faster than any wolf could track he was spinning, torso tucking in, leg snapping out as he jump-kicked the Alpha right in the face, the heel of his sneaker connecting with an audible crack to Derek's chin. His aim was perfect, his long legs not just an unfortunate curse of puberty and his unrestrained supernatural strength sent Derek skidding back, his eyes rolling up in his skull after receiving the blow which would have KO'd a human.

“By bitches!” Stiles was out the door before the wolves had even finished gasping in shock. “Have fun being expendable Alpha pack chow!”

He swung round the corner, completely ignoring the busted-ass elevator in favor of leaping down several flights of stairs, his steps graceful and light as he let loose all that pent up prey energy that had been building for months. Run run run rabbit boy. Back to the burrow, back to your colony. Run and hide and survive.