The Angels Watching Over Us
Sorry I haven't been around lately. I'm taking a small break on the big writing project I'm doing for Teen Wolf and this was born. The big Teen Wolf story I'm doing is why I haven't updated in so long, so I hope this satisfies some of you out there who are waiting for me to update my stuff.
This is just a small one shot crossover. Stiles is a girl, and a small amount of Sterek.
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They were in Beacon Hills now. Rumors of werewolves had caught their dad's ear, so they had rushed over as soon as they could. Currently, their dad was checking out the morgue, so the two brothers were left to scour the hallways of the hospital, awaiting orders.
Dean was talking about the gory movie they had watched last night and how terrible the special effects were, when they had happened upon a lone young girl, about 7 or 8, sitting on a hospital bench. She looked tired, her head cradled in her knees, her dark brown, curly hair cascading down her shoulders, and her overalls worn and crumpled. Both brothers stopped for a moment before Sam went and sat down next to her, startling her out of her thinking.
"Hey," greeted Sam like the lovable little brother he was.
"Hi," she squeaked back, unsure of what to make of the teenaged stranger. She hugged her legs closer to her body and shifted slightly away from Sam.
"Why are you out here by yourself?" Sam asked, slightly concerned that no one was around to watch her.
"Because Mommy and Daddy said they needed some alone time to talk about grown up things. I always sit right here when they want to be alone for a while. I'm not always alone. Sometimes Nurse McCall or Scott sits with me to keep me company, but Scott's at his dad's house and Nurse McCall is on duty in another part of the hospital."
"Well, we can keep you company until our dad is done with his business here. Is there anything you wanted to talk about?" Dean asked, wanting to know what ordeal someone so young had to go through. He didn't want this girl turning out like him or Sam, to understand the pain of losing someone at this young of an age.
The young girl chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully before hesitantly speaking. "Mommy's really sick, so she's been here for a really long time. Daddy says she'll get better soon, but it never seems like it! She always looks worse and worse, even though Daddy says that's rude to say, it's true."
Dean leaned down in front of her, offering his comfort through his hand on her shoulder. "My mom always told me that the angels were always watching over us. Maybe you should talk to them, or their boss man." Her face lit up with joy, before scrunching up in concentration as she tried to send out a prayer. Dean usually didn't want to give advice on taking this route, when he had stopped believing in it himself, but it would probably help sooth her in a way that others apparently weren't going to.
She opened her eyes soon after, a smile stealing across her face.
"I sent it! My very own message! Hopefully they'll answer soon. Do you think they will?" she asked, hope glimmering in her eyes. Dean looked away, hand still planted firmly on her shoulder as Sam answered.
"Only time can tell."
Their dad turned the corner after that, and motioned for them to follow him after giving them a strange look.
"Wait!" they young girl called after them. They all stopped as one and turned to look at her.
"My name is Stiles, what's yours?" The brothers turned to their dad hesitantly, but got the okay nod from him.
"My name is Sam!" one called back.
"And mine's Dean," said the other, before they all turned back around and left, hoping the best for the young girl named Stiles.
A few years later, Sam went off to college, and Dean and their father kept on hunting. John went missing a few years later, causing a big misadventure for the two wayward brothers. Soon, both had experienced their own death, and had an angel named Castiel on their side. Another while later and they were, once again, hearing of werewolf activity in Beacon Hills that they had dismissed way back when.
Sam and Dean ended up at what looked to be a newly rebuilt Hale house, where they knew werewolves were waiting inside. The front door opened, just as they were almost on the stairs of the porch, and a young woman stood there, werewolf pack safe behind her. Her dark brown, curly hair was done up in a bun, her stance was protective, and her clothes were covered in mud and leaves, as if she had been rolling around in the dirt not too long ago.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, getting straight to the point.
"We heard about a lot of strange killings going on in these parts, and figured we could help with the problem," Dean answered as he brandished his gun in a wide gesture. The werewolves went stiff behind her and growled, but she only stepped further out the door.
"We handled those problems ourselves, and if you don't trust us, then you can ask the hunters that currently live in this town. The Argents don't live too far away. Their daughter, who is a part of this pack, could drive you there or give you directions." She gestured to a dark haired girl who was being pressed to the back of the group by a very pissed off looking werewolf.
"You aren't causing the problems then?" Sam asked to make sure. The killings had stopped a while ago, but they needed to be sure. She nodded in the affirmative. "I'll go check it out, if you don't mind Dean."
"Go right ahead. I think I'll stick around." More growls met his words, but a silencing motion from the male right next to her made them quiet instantly. The dark haired Argent girl picked her way to the front and quickly made her way to the Impala where Sam was waiting for her, and soon they were off.
Dean and the pack stared each other down, making Dean slightly uncomfortable.
"So, you going to invite me in, or do I get to sit in the dirt all night?" The young woman in front made a put upon smile and elbowed what seemed to be the alpha in the ribs when he started to growl at Dean.
"Sure you can, as soon as you dispose of all of your weapons," she told him cheerily. Dean weighed his options, and since they were trying to trust this pack anyways... He set his gun down gently on the floor, followed by another one hidden in his jacket. A couple of knives were tossed down onto the weapon pile before putting his hands up in a peaceful gesture.
"Boyd, go pat him down," the possible werewolf alpha commanded, and the second biggest of the guys came over and gave him a pretty thorough pat down.
"Done this before?" he asked jokingly.
"We do have a hunter in our pack, we have learned to be thorough." That answered one question and brought up a few more, but Dean was going to ignore those questions right now. When Boyd gave him the okay, the werewolves crowding the door went back inside at the most-likely alpha's command, and all there was left was him and that woman, waiting for Dean in their doorway.
"Welcome," she said as she stepped aside herself and slowly make her way back. "I was in the middle of making a few pies if you want a slice," she called over her shoulder, and Dean was suddenly very glad that Sam was the one who went to validate claims instead of him. Because now there was pie.
The guy, who he was pretty sure was the alpha at this point, stepped aside grudgingly as Dean walked up the porch steps. He led Dean into the living room, where the rest of the pack had disappeared to earlier, and directed him to an empty chair probably dragged in from the kitchen.
The young woman came back out, asking for someone to help her with the snack she was making, and a tall, skinny male with curly hair jumped up to help. Dean found it kind of funny; the guy was like an overeager pup wanting to help his mother.
"So," Dean said, wanting to fill the air with something other than the stifling silence. All eyes were on him, glowing their different colors. Another huff from the kitchen doorway had them facing the young woman again as she rolled her eyes.
"Pie," she said simply, and walked into the room, slices of pie balanced on her arms, the lanky male following in a similar fashion. Pie was handed out quickly, Dean first, as he was the guest, and then in order of rank, as was custom. More silence filled the air as they ate, and when everyone was done, Dean just couldn't take it anymore.
"Maybe we should do introductions, or something." He was acting like the new kid in class, but he had nothing else to go on with these people. The young woman let out a small giggle and rose to comply with his suggestion.
"This is Derek Hale. He's our big, bad alpha. In that corner over there is Peter Hale, sassy uncle extraordinaire. The girl that went with your partner-,"
"Brother," Dean interjected, a bit tired of people thinking he and Sam were together. She gave him a devilish smile and continued.
"Ah, brother, well, she's Allison, our kickass hunter friend. Over there on the love seat is Scott. He and Allison are mates." She puts a teasing emphasis on the word 'mates', and Scott's face turned bright red.
"On the rest of the love seat we have Jackson and Lydia. Jackson used to be a giant lizard and Lydia is a certifiable genius." Dean's eyebrows rise as he looks at Jackson, who is giving the young woman a look of exasperation.
"Really? That's how you introduce me?" She ignores completely him and continues on.
"On the regular couch is Isaac, he's the one who helped me earlier, Boyd, who patted you down, and Erica, who will punch you in the arm even if you're a 'lowly' human." Erica gives out a slight grin at that, then leers at him. He keeps in mind to stay away from her.
"Sitting right next to you is Danny. Everyone likes Danny, but if Danny doesn't like you, he'll get Jackson to run over you with his Porsche." Danny sends him an easy grin, and Dean nods back.
"Who are you then?"
"Me?" she asks, pointing towards herself and grinning. "I'm Stiles Stilinski, the best damn researcher, cooker, and schedule advisor there is." The name rings a bell somewhere in his head. He's heard her name somewhere before, and it's not some sort of name you hear every day. Someone in the room coughs out "Pack mom" and her face turns cherry red. She goes to admonish the speaker when Dean interjects.
"I've heard your name before." Stiles doesn't look very impressed.
"Most people that seek us out do," she grumbles, obviously thinking about times in the past when enemies have tried to use her to get to the pack.
"No, it's like a distant memory." Dean can't put his finger on it, but it seems like the memory wants to be dredged up so badly, but he can't find it. "Well, I'm Dean Winchester, and that was my younger brother Sam." Scott pipes up to ask how Sam can be younger if Sam is taller than Dean, but Dean just ignores him and looks back at Stiles. Stiles looks like she's shifting through her own memories for their names, concentration clear on her face. He's seen concentration like that before, on the face of an innocent little girl praying to the heavens above to save her sick mother.
Realization slaps him in the face.
"You're that girl, from the hospital!" Her face turns from shock, to blatant remembrance, and Scott stand up and growls, his eyes glowing once more.
"Stand down Scott," she commands, and Scott plants himself on the couch, but his eyes continue to glow.
"The hospital?" Derek growls out, furious that he doesn't understand when she had met this hunter on one of her many hospital visits.
"I remember that," she says somewhat sullenly.
"Did your mother-," the room falls into a hush, clearly knowing where the conversation is going.
"No," she cuts him off, not wanting him to say it. The mood drops from there, and Dean suddenly wishes he never brought it up.
And to make matters worse, Castiel shows up in the middle of the living room. Just pops up out of nowhere in a living room full of werewolves. Chaos reigns almost immediately.
All of the humans are pushed behind whichever werewolf can get to them first. His vision of the angel is blocked by a sea of curled blonde hair. He looks over and sees Lydia sprawled on the couch like she had been suddenly thrown there, Jackson crouched in front of her. Isaac was standing protectively in front of Danny. And, of course, Stiles was shoved behind Derek himself. Claws come out and teeth elongate and sharpen, and for the first time in his life, Dean is not on the opposing side of those sharp utensils.
He still has to save Cas though.
"Whoa, whoa. It's cool, I know him!" he yells over the growling werewolves. Their hackles go down a bit, but the pointy bits stay out. He sees Stiles let out a bit of a relieved breath before fighting her way around a red-eyed Derek, who keeps trying to push her back behind him for protection from the new threat. Stiles eventually wins and comes to stand a few feet away from the angel.
"So, how'd you do that?" Stiles asks Castiel as he eyes all of the werewolves in the room.
"I simply used my wings," he answers, and her eyes widen in curiosity. Some of the werewolves let out a groan, because they know she will bug the hell out of their new arrival to answer the millions of questions she could cook up.
"Are you like Hawkman or something?" she asks excitedly, and Castiel frowns in confusion.
"I do not understand that reference either." He looks at Dean, face scrunched in thought, before letting the confusion drop off of his face and turning serious again.
"There a reason you decided to come down now when you aren't really needed, but can't show up when I ask you to?"
"I would hardly call that asking, Dean," is the only reply he gets. Dean gives the angel a bitch face of his own, and moodily sits back in his chair, others in the room following his example shortly after.
"Let me get you a chair," Stiles offers as she makes her way back towards the kitchen, reappearing a moment later with a copy of the seat Dean was sitting in. She sets it right next to Dean's too, and looks at them in wonderment for a moment.
"Seriously though," he prods the angel, "Why did you come here all of the sudden?"
"I thought you might want to know that this group has been preventing the murders of the townsfolk by ridding it of the murderers. They haven't killed anyone themselves." Castiel pauses there and briefly looks over a Peter before resuming. "Well, most of them haven't."
"You've killed people?" Dean asks Peter, not knowing if he should put him down or not.
"Well, to be fair, a crazy hunter burnt most of my family alive, leaving only me, my nephew, and my niece alive. I had half of my body burned and slowly went insane over revenge as the years stretched on after my niece and nephew moved to New York. I killed people who were involved in the murders of my family after killing my niece for the alpha power, but then my nephew killed me and gained the alpha power himself. Then I came back to life via horrible hallucinations haunting Lydia and now we're all here today."
Dean is confused and Cas just looks neutral, so he just rolls with it. He looks over at Derek and asks, "Do you want me to… or are you fine with…?" It's a bit weird to ask if he wants him to kill his uncle, but he puts it on the table anyways.
"I think he's fine, just so long as he stays in line."
"He was just a wee bit crazy back then. I think his death helped a little bit," Stiles adds.
"I'm helpful, I'll have you know. This pack wouldn't have gotten very far without my knowledge on how to run a pack," Peter tells Dean in a somewhat offended manner. Everyone in the room rolls their eyes, but doesn't dispute what he says, so he guesses no one really wants the guy dead. It gets really tiring when the people that you want to stay dead won't. You can ask any supernatural being that has ever succeeded at killing Dean or his brother.
"Okay then." Stiles is bouncing in her seat by now, shooting Cas curious looks every once in a while. Cas must have finally looked at one of the puppy dog eyes she threw him, because he finally says, "What would you like to know, Stiles?" She pauses, briefly wondering how he knew her name, then remembered she didn't know his name either.
"What's your name? Mine is Stiles, as you already seem to know." Cas tilts his head a bit before speaking.
"My name is Castiel, and I am an angel of the Lord." She freezes, excitement momentarily lost, before she peps herself back to talking, but her eyes look all around the room. Anywhere but Cas.
"Oh, that's cool. I wasn't aware there were any of those."
"You used to," Cas tells her, and her eyes snap to his, widening in surprise. "You used to pray every day for us to help heal your mother or guide her to health. We could hear those prayers, but we were not allowed to assist."
Stiles doesn't scream, yell, or even cry as most would have done in her situation. She just shrugs her shoulders and looks away again. "Yeah, my dad told me it was her time to go, so I eventually did just that."
They all lapse into silence after that, no one willing to talk after the semblance of pain that the mention of Stiles' mother usually brings. A knock shoots through the living room and Stiles jumps up to answer it.
"Welcome back Sam and Allison. Nice to see you here as well, Chris. We're all in the living room. There's some pie left over if you want some."
"No thanks," they all say at once, and Stiles leads them into the living room and gets chairs for them too.
"Oh, hey Cas," Sam says in surprise as they wait for Stiles to bring them chairs. "When did you get here?"
"Not too long ago," Cas responds.
"He came to tell us this pack isn't interested in ever trying to hurt the people of the town," Dean tells him, because he knows Cas won't fill Sam in. He hardly ever fills Dean in on anything. Besides a bunch of cryptic nonsense that all supernatural creatures seem to be into these days.
"Yeah, that's what Mr. Argent was telling me the whole way here. You should hear some of the stories that they have to tell, Dean." Stiles comes in then, and they all finally have a seat.
They talk over what's being done for preventative measures for future enemies, werewolf protocols, and tales of their own experiences.
"-So then Scott and I end up with a restraining order from Jackson. When Scott's mom heard that, she tells Scott 'No Stiles!' and I go 'No Stiles?' because how will Scott even function properly without me?"
"I remember when you hit him with lacrosse balls to test his heart rate," Jackson tells them, and they all laugh.
"That was mildly stupid of you," Derek tells her. She fakes an affronted look and says, "Well I couldn't leave it to you back then, could I?"
"You both refused my help back then."
"You were a stranger that was stalking teenagers back then, so yeah, we were kind of on our own at that point." Conversation fades away after that, so Dean stands up and stretches.
"I think we ought to hit the road for our next destination then. If something you don't know about ever comes through and you need help, you know who to call," Dean tells them as he scribbles out his number on a stray piece of paper.
"I'll escort you out," Stiles says as she gets up from her seat and brushes off some of the dirt that had been there since before the brothers had even arrived. Goodbyes are called after them as they make their way through the door. She follows them down to the Impala, which now had an SUV parked beside it, and watches them get inside of their car. She leans forward and Dean rolls down the window for her to poke her head through.
"Thanks for your advice back then," she tells them, and Sam looks confused for a moment and Dean shoots him an 'I'll tell you later' look. Stiles looks to the back seat where Cas is sitting, straight backed as always.
"Thanks for hearing my prayers," she whispers and pushes herself away from the door and walks quickly back towards the home. They sit there for a moment, none of the men knowing what they should do, until Dean starts the car, and begins to drive away.
Before he rolls his window up, he leans out and shouts, "Good luck with your werewolf boyfriend!" Stiles is so surprised by the statement, she trips over a stray rock. Derek rushes out of the house and helps her up, glaring at them until they disappear over the hill.
Sam looks over to Dean as they are almost out of the forest and asks, "Was that who I think it was?"
"Yep."
"Now she gets to be watched by angels and run with the wolves," Sam says with a smile. Dean lets a small grin out and lets 'Carry on my Wayward Son' blast out the open window as they leave behind the town of Beacon Hills once more.