Well hell's bells, what you trying to sell?

Put it on the table before they take us to jail.

What you say, got a bottle to your head,

And you never saw it coming, and you pretty white shirt is red!

-Hell's Bells by Cary Ann Hearst

"Are you sure about this?" Sam asked Chris Argent as the other hunter closed the circle of powdered mountain ash.

"Yeah. The mountain ash tree makes a barrier for werewolves and a few other beings. It'll keep him in."

"Is he gonna be ok?"

"Not really," Stiles said, but Ana gave him a look and he shrugged. "Let's just get this over with," he said, toeing off his shoes and shrugging off his shirt.

"He's going to want out," Darak told Sam from where he stood by the front door to the small cabin. "Whatever he says or does, don't break the barrier."

"What about you guys?" Sam asked dubiously. Stiles shared a grin with Boyd, who was also shucking down his clothes to just the basics.

"Nothing to worry about with us! We'll be running patrols, working off a little steam. Derek will stay and make sure things don't get too crazy in here."

"Can you all stop talking like I'm not right here?" Dean snapped from behind the barrier.

"I forgot how needy for attention he was," Ana muttered as she pulled off her hoodie to reveal a sports bra. Dean snarled in her direction, his eyes flashing icy blue. She ignored him as she kicked off her jeans, uncaring of mixed company. Stiles tossed her a pair of his old basketball shorts for her to slip on.

Chris placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Maybe we should step out. Might not be the best idea for you to stay."

Sam shook his head. "I'm staying."

It was two days before the full moon and Dean was losing his mind. He was torn between an intense need to run, to get out of the crappy hotel room and away from Sammy and a sickening fear that if he did he'd run into someone and hurt them. It didn't help that Sam refused to leave him alone, hovering around him and constantly asking if he was ok.

When Sam did step out briefly to get some food for them, Dean tried to dull his senses the old fashioned way. He emptied an entire bottle of cheap bourbon before he realized it wasn't doing anything. The empty bottle shattered in his grip and the near instantaneous healing of the glass induced cuts infuriated him.

Dean sat down hard on the motel bed. After a few minutes of absently picking out glass shards, he felt numb. It wasn't the kind of warm, vaguely burning numb alcohol induced, it was a sudden empty feeling. He was helpless. He wasn't human anymore. He was another monster.

Bobby was gone. Thier list of friends was short, maybe nonexistent now because of Dean. Cas was… fuck Dean didn't know. He toyed with the idea of praying to Cas, but knew it was going to be unanswered. His chest clenched.

Dean heard Sam's cell before he heard Sam walking up to the room. Sam rushed the rest of the way and by the time he burst in with the phone to his ear, Dean was up and the shattered bottle was kicked under the bed.

"We have conditions," Scott said over the phone. His voice held a solid authority that made a slight chill run down Dean's spine, and he frowned in confusion.

"Which are?" Sam asked warily, putting the phone on speaker.

"Isn't that where Satomi said the alpha's are disappearing?" Scott asked after he'd digested his best friend's ramble.

"Yeah. I'm thinking they might have something to do with it. Make sense doesn't it? A couple hunters going after alpha's only, wouldn't the chances of them getting bitten be pretty high?"

Scott thought it over as he finished plastering the cast on the doberman's leg. He pet the dog reassuringly when it whined. "Then why would they call us for help?"

"You're thinking they have ulterior motives." Derek spoke up from the stool set up in the corner of Deaton's clinic room.

Stiles nodded, his face serious and his mind racing. It also occurred to him this was all a big coincidence, but it was safer to assume these guys were guilty until proven innocent. It could be a ploy to attack them.

Scott stood up straight and stretched. He'd been working for about nine hours and it was wearing on him. "I don't like all these unknowns. If they're trying to lure us into a trap, what could they hope to accomplish? If they're genuine… what should we do about it?"

"We need more information," Derek said and almost immediately regretted it. Those were Stiles' magic words. Stiles grinned and bounced on his feet, ready to do what he did best: come up with a plan.

"We'll meet you at a safe house close to where you guys are. It's too close to the full moon for you to make it to Beacon Hills, and frankly I'm keeping to our agreement. We'll help you through this first full moon and we'll take it from there."

"What do you mean by 'take it from there'?" Sam asked wearily.

"Derek's going to evaluate the situation. If he thinks there's some hope and we can trust you guys, I'll lift the ban. You'll come to Beacon Hills and we'll help Dean if we can," Scott said.

"And if not?" Dean spoke up, suspicion making his voice crack.

"If Derek deems you a threat, he'll act accordingly." Scott's tone made Sam's heart skip a beat and he swallowed hard when he saw Dean's eyes flash an eerie, glowing blue. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on putting things in perspective.

"Sounds reasonable," Sam said finally.

Sam was beginning to doubt how reasonable it could be to be in a tiny, secluded shack in the middle of the desert between Nevada and California with four… five werewolves and a hunter he didn't know.

"Be careful," Derek said quietly to Stiles as he went to leave the cabin. "Stay close."

Stiles smiled softly, and pulled Derek in for a chaste kiss. "Don't worry, we've got this." The plan was simple. Stiles was surprised to learn the brothers didn't pursue or kill the alpha that had bitten Dean. Apparently it'd just run off. Knowing the possessive tendencies of alphas Stiles suggested running patrols around the safe house just in case the alpha was following the Winchesters. If it was, Stiles would call for Derek and see if they could get any information out of the unknown alpha about the deaths and disappearances in the area.

Meanwhile, Chris was going to subtly question Sam, hunter to hunter. The older hunter may be unable to hear the changes in breathing and heart rate when someone lied, but nonetheless was excellent at gauging the truth. Derek would stay with Dean and evaluate how the hunter took to his new wolf. It was unlikely Dean could escape the barrier of mountain ash, but stranger things have happened.

"Can we go, these guys reek," Boyd muttered, referring to the Winchesters. Ana agreed. She really didn't like how they smelt like they'd crawled out of shallow graves. Nothing good ever comes back from the dead.

"Ok, see you in a bit! Have fun pup-sitting!" Stiles saluted Dean mockingly and hopped down off the steps leading out the front door. Ana and Boyd followed, running off into the desert night.

I decided to change the title a little bit, I hope ya'll don't mind. Hell's Bells is a song I love and it kind of fits the mood I'm trying to incorporate into the story. The series and the first part are also named after a song, Black Dog Sin by Joshua Burnside, so I thought I'd stick to the theme.