The banshee wail disrupted the hearing of all in the clearing but Dean stubbornly ignored the ringing in his ears and the throbbing pain in his head. After all, he'd survived angel's talking to him in their true voices so he could handle a banshee. He barely missed Lydia as he had planned and managed to swing around then thrust Albion's blade through the leader's heart. Immediately, he saw the white hot grace pouring out of the body and yelled as loud as he could to anyone who could still hear, "Close your eyes. Cover your ears."

At the same time, he noticed in his peripheral vision other bright white streams of grace exiting their vessels while painfully loud white noise clamored in everyone's ears. He covered his ears as well as he could with Albion still in his hand and clenched his eyes shut tightly. He waited until the screaming died down.

"Dean," Sam gasped softly in the resulting silence.

Dean immediately dropped his hands and turned just in time to see his brother sag down then fall into a pile in the center of the Nemeton. He raced over to his brother and slid down to his knees beside him. He cradled his brother's face in his hands and called out with concern, "Sam? Sam?"

Sam weakly blinked his eyes and asked with a slight slur, "What's happening?"

Dean frowned in confusion for a moment before he demanded hotly, worry amping up his emotions, "What do you mean? We're stopping a cult. Remember?"

"Tired," Sam mumbled in response. "So tired."

"Sam?" Dean called impatiently with increasing volume.

"Dean," Derek interrupted with a hand on his shoulder. Dean glanced at him with frantic eyes so Derek continued, "Sam's fine but we had to banish the angels in the cult. Unfortunately . . ."

"You had to banish Zeke, too. Damn it," Dean quickly concluded. "Help me get him back to the motel. The sooner Zeke can . . . just help me."

Derek stared at him a moment, undecided, but he remembered that Cas cautioned him against telling Dean the truth. As much as Derek hated it, he did what Cas asked of him and silently helped Dean load Sam up into the Impala. Derek had moved it near the clearing in preparation for this.

As soon as they got Sam loaded, Dean rushed over to the driver's side door and opened it. Only then did he realize Derek hadn't made any move to get into the car with him. Dean frowned, then prodded impatiently, "What are you waiting for?"

Derek looked at Dean for a long moment then told him emotionlessly, "I need to help them clean this up. I'm sure . . . Zeke will be back as soon as you are out of the area so Sam will be fine. If he isn't, call me and I'll be there."

Dean stared at him for a moment, blinked then bit out sourly, "Whatever."

He slid into the driver's seat and threw it into gear before tearing out of the area. He'd only gotten back onto the highway when he heard the high pitched sound of an angel approaching. He pulled over onto the side of the road then closed his eyes and ears while he waited for the angel to repossess his brother.

When all the noise stopped, he glanced into the rear view mirror and saw Sam sitting up with glowing blue-white eyes. Before he could say anything, Sam's voice chided irritably, "Did you have to teach them the banishing spell?"

"'Fraid so. Sorry," Dean answered apologetically. "Didn't know they were going to do that. How are you?"

"Weaker," Gadreel snapped back automatically. "In a lot of pain. As is your brother. Where are we going?"

"I was trying to get Sam back to the hotel and out of the affected area so that you . . . " Dean trailed off then finally added, "Well, you know."

"Yes," Gadreel sighed wearily. "I know. That's a very good idea. We both need rest."

Dean nodded in agreement then offered solicitously, "Want to move to the front?"

Gadreel thought about it then nodded. He got out of the back and entered the passenger side of the car. Once inside, he put on his seat belt and leaned back into a comfortable position.

Dean pulled back onto the highway and continued toward their motel, thinking of what was left to do before he could take Sam back home when Sam's voice pulled him out of his thoughts again.

"So all the angels were banished?" Gadreel asked neutrally.

Dean nodded but qualified distractedly, "All except the leader. Her I killed with Albion. Apparently it worked the same as an angel sword which was weird now that I think about it but whatever. She's dead. The cult is disbanded. So, go team."

"How do you know she's dead?" Gadreel clarified curiously.

"Saw the burnt wing ashes," Dean answered clinically. "Doesn't that signify your kind's death?"

"Yes," Gadreel verified distractedly. "Yes, it does." He added softly, thinking about the implications. He was glad that no one else knew his secret. He was safe again and inside a very important vessel. He slowly relaxed back and concentrated on healing himself again.

Dean watched his brother's even breath for another few minutes before quietly getting up off his bed and leaving their motel room. He still had one more hunt to finish as well as a goodbye he couldn't ignore anymore. He made sure that the room was well warded against angels, demons, and most everything supernatural he could think of.

He tried to pull out as quietly as he could with his Baby's known rumble before he headed down the now very familiar highway. It generally didn't take him long to get used to an area and this path was no exception. If anything, he learned it quicker than most.

His eyes were automatically drawn to the dark shadow perched on the moonlight ramshackled porch. He tried to tell his body not to react to the familiar shadow but as always his body listened to something other than him in the presence of his wolf. His window was already down so Derek easily leaned his left arm on the window edge as he lowered his head to ask, "Saying goodbye or have something else in mind?"

Dean eyed the cocky wolf a moment before he answered huskily with the absolute truth, "Both."

Derek narrowed his eyes slightly then inquired solicitously, "How's Sam?"

Dean also narrowed his eyes but answered easily, "Okay. Resting before we head back tomorrow. Cult members?"

"Corralled and jailed."

"Injuries?"

"Minor," Derek reported clinically. "Stiles apparently choked on a fly or something," he elaborated with some amusement then wondered curiously, "What about the vamps?"

Dean smiled cockily as he taunted wryly, "You look like you could use the exercise. Maybe then you won't be so keen to bite me later."

Derek huffed with amusement while he answered truthfully, "I doubt it." He stood up smoothly and turned to round the car as he continued ruefully, "But I'm willing to give it a shot."

Dean waited, unable to remove the slight smile from his face, as Derek climbed into the passenger side seat. When the wolf had settled back into his seat, Dean questioned curiously, "Have a direction?"

Derek smiled widely and wondered smugly, "What do you think?"

What followed was an easy hunt and a great night where neither one of them received much sleep.

"Thank you for all your help," Chris Argent offered sincerely as he shook Dean's hand.

"Anytime," Dean replied automatically as they dropped hands. "You have my number now and can call me if you can't reach Garth or have a question he can't answer."

"Sounds good," Argent responded while Stilinski shook Dean's hand as well and Chris shook Sam's hand.

"Are you sure the vamps are gone?" Stilinski hesitantly verified before he let go of Dean's hand.

"Yeah, Derek and I dusted them last night," Dean replied easily. "There were only three left so we didn't even break a sweat. Salted and burned them as well. Your town is clean for the moment but with the Nemeton active you need to keep your eyes open. When we have time, we'll try to find a reversal but . . . it's not in our top three right now."

"Understood," Stilinski acknowledged ruefully as he shook Sam's hand then offered graciously, "Feel free to run as many red lights as you wish in town."

Dean smirked slightly, "I'll keep that in mind. Tell the kiddos I said, 'Later.' You two definitely have your hands full here."

"That's no lie," Stilinski agreed sardonically before the Winchesters nodded their last goodbyes and turned to head back to the car.

Dean opened his driver's door while Sam opened the passenger side. Dean took one last look around focusing mainly on the trees near Argent's house. Finally, he spotted what he was looking for as a shadow disengaged from the tree it was camouflaged by.

Dean stared for a long moment, ignoring whether or not anyone else was watching him. He exhaled heavily and softly offered, " Goodbye, Stranger." He felt his face flush slightly but he went ahead and added as he slowly lowered himself into his baby. "It's been nice." He shut the door mentally praying for the wolf as he knew the wolf was praying for him.

His baby's rumbling brought him out of the song in his head so he backed up and shifted to drive. Heading back home to their bunker, he steadfastly refused to acknowledge what he was leaving behind. Even so, he would swear that he felt his, no, the wolf follow him to the city limits. In the distance, as they passed the "Beacon Hills City Limits" sign, he heard a wolf howl in the distance. The whole time, his eyes never left the road in front of him.

Awhile later, Sam asked cautiously, "Uh, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you . . . um, do you want to, uh, you know, talk about it?" Sam offered uncomfortably.

Dean shot a quick glance at Sam and wondered blandly, "Talk about what?"

"You know . . . "

Dean arched his eyebrow and motioned impatiently before he snapped irritably, "Obviously not."

"I . . . uh . . .well . . ." Sam stammered uncertainly. Dean glanced at him again expectantly, obviously getting more irritated by the second. Sam bit his lip nervously and the next time Dean glanced his way, he blurted out instantaneously, "I . . . You . . . You would tell me if you were gay, right? I mean, it's okay to be gay.. I don't have a problem with that but I . . . uh, are you?"

Dean cut his eyes at Sam and gave him a "WTF" look which caused Sam to continue, "You and this Derek. There was something there, Dean. I know you and . . . it's not the gay thing but he's a freakin' werewolf . . ."

Dean immediately turned on the music full blast and resumed his intense concentration of the road, with the exception of shooting Sam a death glare every time he twitched toward trying to cut the radio down.

Sam sighed heavily and leaned his head against the window as he stared at his brother's stone-faced profile. He knew that face. That face yelled at him that Dean was closed for business and no amount of talk was allowed while it was that way. He just wished that Dean would one, lower the freakin' volume, two, not shut him out and three, listen to him for once. But, ultimately he knew none of those things would happen, especially now. Unknowingly, Sam drifted off in spite of the radio blaring.