Since John didn't have his car with him, Mark drove him back to the station.

"I like him, Stiles I mean," Mark said in the solitude of the car. "But man, we did fuck him over, didn't we?"

"Pretty much," John agreed. "Stiles hates werewolves, especially the Hale pack."

"Yeah, I noticed when we had him in the interrogation room." Mark made a face at that memory. "He okay with … you know, going into the lake?"

John had offered Stiles to have dinner with him and to spend the evening on his couch but Stiles had declined. He'd rather gone under as he'd called it. John didn't understand it but things were different for Stiles when he was with Derek. Nothing could touch him at the bottom of the lake and John understood that Stiles needed some distance after this much werewolf.

"He's fine," John assured him. "We're supposed to have dinner tomorrow."

"If he doesn't forget the time," Mark repeated what Stiles had said before he'd dived into the lake. Apparently, it was difficult to keep track of time at the bottom of the lake.

"So far he's always made it," John said and just hoped that he hadn't jinxed it now. He needed to know that Stiles was okay but with his luck, Stiles would stay under for three days now.

"One time he was late, though. It was before he told me about his past." John forced himself to shake off the dark thoughts. "Derek had to bring him over through the pipes and he came in dripping wet. He did have some explaining to do after that."

"I bet." They arrived at the station and Mark parked the car next to John's. "I still can't believe how you just accept all this."

"Alcohol," John deadpanned. "But thanks man, you know, for answering all my stupid questions."

"Anytime."

John drove home deep in thoughts.

He spread his notes on the kitchen table, with the by now obligatory glass, he had to admit, and sat down to go over everything again. He'd started to build a file on the Hale pack and he wanted to have his notes about werewolves in order as well.

Mark had patiently answered all his questions and Stiles' as well, even the obscure ones, but it was a lot to take in. John spent half the night in his kitchen, sorting through his notes, making cross-references with what he'd found on the internet, and writing down more questions.

He trusted Mark and he was sure that his partner had been honest with him but if he'd learned one thing at his job it was that every story had at least two sides.

John had the next day off but he still got up early.

On his way to the motel, he bought coffee and donuts.

He had the faint hope that the hunters had left Beacon Hills by now but their car was still in the parking lot and when he knocked on their door a sleepy Dean opened.

"Man, what are you doing here so early?" Dean was still wearing pajama pants and the t-shirt he'd slept in. He had a pillow crease imprint on his face and a cowlick on the left side of his head. He looked young like this.

"It's past nine." John lifted the tray with three cups. "Coffee?"

Dean grunted but at the promise of coffee, he stepped aside and let John in.

"Your nephew not with you today?" He emphasized the nephew but he left it at that. Most likely not awake enough to dig into the whole Stiles is the lake monster thing.

"Not today." John stepped past him and put his gifts on the table. Now he heard the shower running. "Your brother is the morning person of you two?"

That got Dean's attention.

"He just came back from a morning run." Dean studied him over the rim of his coffee and John wondered if he had a gun shoved in the back of his Pjs. "I don't think we told you that we're brothers."

"You didn't." John calmly opened the box of donuts before he grabbed a cup of coffee himself and straightened up. "Derek did."

"Who's Derek?"

"You might not recognize our sleepy little town but you've been here before." John made a questioning gesture towards the chairs, this was not a conversation he wanted to have standing. Dean hesitated but followed suit when John sat down.

"Derek says late eighties, earlier nineties," John said. "Your dad was here because of a druid and he left you and Sam at the lake with a tent and not enough food."

John watched him closely and sure enough, Dean's eyes widened when he remembered.

"Derek gave you some fish," John added but he doubted that it was necessary, Dean knew exactly what he was talking about.

"So you're saying that he's the one we're looking for?" Dean summed it up.

"He's not a threat," John said. "He doesn't want to kill anybody. You just have to stay out of his lake."

"Stand your ground?" Dean asked with a little smile playing on his lips.

"More like don't jump into the bear compound at the zoo." John leaned back in his chair.

They fell quiet for a moment. Dean reached for a donut which he ate slowly, lost in thoughts. Only when he'd finished it, he spoke again.

"We were starving," Dean finally said. "I was trying to catch a fish but I didn't know how." His expression became distant and John wanted to have a word with the man who'd dumped his kids at a remote lake. Even with enough food, what if they had gotten hurt? Or drowned? People drowned in lakes all the time, no need for somebody like Derek to be involved.

"Then this guy showed up and offered us fish." Dean shook his head. "Best fish I ever had. Never caught the guy's name but I figured he was a local who used to come out to the lake."

"He is a local," John agreed and felt comfortable enough to reach for a donut himself.

"What do you want?" Dean asked but he wasn't as guarded as before. "Do you want us to look the other way? Because even if I owe him we can't just leave while something is killing people."

"Yeah, I got that. I don't like it but I get it." There was a reason he'd become a deputy. John was not the kind of guy who looked the other way either. "That's not why I'm here."

He plucked a chunk off his donut, not sure how to approach the topic. Dean waited him out.

"I know about Derek," John started. "But that's just the tip of the iceberg, right? There's so much more out there. For example the grave desecration, you don't do those for fun, do you?"

"If I can give you an advice." Dean pointed his cup at him. "Leave it. You don't want to know what else is out there."

Before John could say something to that, the bathroom door opened and Sam stepped out. He must have heard that they had a visitor because he didn't look surprised when he spotted John.

"Deputy," Sam greeted him. "What are you doing here?"

At that Dean threw an almost panicked glance at John.

"Dean was about to tell me why you like to dig up graves," John answered easily. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Dean relaxing. So Sam didn't know about Derek and the fish. He'd been too little to remember and if John understood their dynamics right, Dean would have done his best to keep things like running out of food from his little brother.

Sam was even more hesitant about the idea of giving John the 101 on the supernatural than Dean and it took a bit of convincing but coffee and donuts helped.

In the end, Sam told him about ghosts and why they had to salt and burn their remains to get rid of them while Dean slipped into the bathroom to get dressed. He did have a gun shoved down his Pjs, though. John was tempted to ask if he had a permit.

By the time Dean came back out of the bathroom, now properly dressed, they had moved on from ghosts to vampires. The Winchesters didn't know about the Hale pack and John wanted to keep it that way so he'd asked about the most famous pop-culture monster first. Werewolves were the next logical step after those. He hadn't expected Sam to confirm that vampires were indeed real. But he wasn't really surprised either.

"Vampires are nasty," Dean said with a disgusted face. "Don't drink their blood."

"Why would I do that?" That just sounded nasty.

"It's not the bite that turns you, you have to drink their blood," Sam explained. "Don't get it in your mouth."

"That doesn't sound too hard." This wasn't why he'd come here but John soaked up every bit of information he could get.

"It is if you consider that the stake through the heart is a myth." Dean grinned at that, he was having way too much fun with this. "You have to behead them, close and personal."

"And get a faceful of their blood." John nodded in understanding. "Is there a cure?"

"Off with your head," Dean answered in his best Queen of Hearts voice.

"If I ever encounter a vampire, I'll leave it to you." John raised his hands in defeat.

"Wise decision," Dean agreed, dead serious.

"What about werewolves?" John came to the topic he was actually interested in.

"Haven't seen one since we've been kids." Dean almost sounded sad about that fact.

"Vampires at least know what they are," Sam spoke up. "Werewolves don't. They just go on a killing spree the nights around the full moon and don't remember a thing in the morning. Which doesn't help to track them down."

"The omega streak." John nodded. Mark and Stiles had been discussing that just yesterday.

Sam had been lounging in his chair but now he sat up straight.

"What did you say?"

"The omega streak?" John cursed at himself, that was a piece of information he wasn't supposed to have. "I read some stuff online and that term came up."

"What's the omega streak?" Dean was looking from John to his brother.

"It's a theory," Sam explained. He studied John for a moment longer. "It says that the werewolves we usually deal with are omegas, outcasts who don't have a pack. Without a pack they become feral and if they are gone far enough they start to turn others but those are just as degenerated as the omega."

"Never heard of those."

"We usually come in when bodies with their hearts missing start to pile up," Sam reminded him. "As long as the other werewolves don't kill anybody we would never know about them. At least in theory."

Dean considered the idea for a moment before he shrugged, taking his brother's word for it.

John had been holding his breath but it looked like he'd gotten away with his slip. Keeping an eye on the Winchesters, he dared to enjoy the rest of his donut.

The brothers shared one of those looks that Stiles had called eye fucking but it looked more like they were having a silent conversation. John didn't like being left out like this but he didn't even know where to start to decipher their expressions.

"So, John." Dean turned back to him. "There's Derek living in the lake …"

"Who's Derek?" Sam interrupted.

"Our lake monster."

"What about Stiles?" Sam asked. "I thought he's our lake monster. It appears as a boy sometimes?"

"Yeah, what is about Stiles?" His other statement forgotten for the moment Dean focused on this. "Are he and Derek the same thing or are there two of them?"

"Neither." John fiddled with his cup. He was glad for the change of topic but he didn't like this one either. "Derek is the lake monster, Stiles is somebody he drowned and kept. The only one he kept." He felt the need to add the last bit, he didn't want them to get the wrong impression of Derek.

"So he's what?" Dean asked with barely concealed anger. "His prisoner? Slave?"

"They are friends," John corrected. "I know it's hard to believe but I've known both of them for a while now. Derek is Stiles' best friend."

The Winchesters shared another one of those glances, clearly not believing him.

"Anyway," Sam brought them back on topic. "Tell us about the pack of werewolves living in Beacon Hills."