Once Mac had decided on a course of action and been filled in about a few things by the Winchesters, he was like watching a tornado tear through the room. He bounced from place to place where he had various projects in different stages of development.

Sam had gone out to get a few things they might need for various spells. Jack and Dean stayed behind with Mac. Jack because there was no way he was leaving the kid unsupervised with some creepy demon god thingy lusting after his blood and Dean because when he saw the protective fury in his cousin's eyes, he didn't think he could trust him to be rational. There was no way to protect Mac from this thing if he couldn't think clearly.

Jack and Dean leaned against the long wall by the bathroom door in the room, Jack with his arms crossed over his chest like he was cold and Dean with his casually in his pockets. Mac whizzed by them for about the fiftieth time, mumbling to himself and pretty clearly doing math in his head, by Jack's estimation. Mac swore and snapped his had a few times after burning himself with a hot glue gun, but didn't even pause otherwise in what he was doing.

"Damned kid is like a Tasmanian Devil," Dean mumbled to Jack.

Jack managed a half smile. "Sometimes."

The next time he bolted by trying to catch his other project at a particular stage of heating over the in-room hot plate, he almost tripped over Dean's boots. Dean thought the kid looked a little frantic and decided it was time to pull him up short and give him the 'yeah monsters are real but so what' talking to he thought the guy needed.

"Hey!"

Mac didn't even glance his way, just kept working on a strange contraption that had PVC and paper clips for some damned reason or another.

"Hey, Taz!" Dean practically shouted, prepared to explain the analogy about the Bugs Bunny beast if necessary.

Instead of having a chance, Castiel appeared, leaning on the wall between him and Jack. "Hello, Dean," he said pleasantly.

"I didn't even call you!" Dean said indignantly. "You were lurking!"

"I was not … lurking … I was merely observing."

Jack snickered. "If it means you're hanging around looking out for Mac, lurk away, buddy."

Cas gave him a small smile. "I am endeavoring to look out for Mac, Jack Dalton. You are an excellent guardian, but you are no angel."

Dean laughed. "Did you just make a joke?"

Cas's smile grew. "That is possible. Was it funny?" he asked with a little brow wrinkle.

Jack patted him on the shoulder and Dean just laughed again. "It was funny, Cas."

Cas grinned at Jack, Dean just chuckled at the expression and shook his head. Apparently, Cas's immediate affection for MacGyver was going to extend to his partner now as well. Damned if he was ever going to figure this angel out. His strange likes and dislikes, say nothing about how he related to people, were constant sources of frustration for the older Winchester.

"What is Mac doing?"

Dean smirked, "Other than running around like a chicken with his head cut off?"

"Dean … They don't actually do that, do they? Run around after being decapitated?" Cas asked, looking slightly horrified.

Dean shrugged. "In my experience …" he trailed off, not wanting to say that his experience included mostly sacrificing them for some dark spell work rather than getting ready for dinner.

Cas's eyes widened so Jack helpfully supplied, "Only a little, Cas. I grew up on a ranch and we always had chickens. It's not … Don't let it worry you."

"Hi, Cas," Mac greeted almost breathlessly as he hurried by with wet towels from the bathroom.

"Hello, Mac. What are you doing? Jack and Dean are not being helpful in sharing information."

Mac flashed a brief smile, considering telling Cas that 'information' and 'helpful' were not necessarily part of their skill sets, but he decided joking would probably just confuse the angel and Cas actually was trying to help, not just hover over him and make him feel like a kid who somebody is worried is going to run away from home. He went back to working but answered, "I'm making some stuff to take on La Llorona. There's an air gun for salt, a pressure sprayer for holy water, and I'm building a lead lined box for putting the binding stuff in once the spell's over with … I've got to figure something out to lay a Devil's Trap quickly too, because that's going to be a moving target … And …"

Cas held up a hand to stop Mac just as though Mac were looking at him. And just like he could see him, Mac's explanation stopped. He turned toward Cas, frowning. "Did you just think that at me?"

"That I needed you to be quiet? Yes."

"Don't do that!" he snapped, suddenly furious again. "You promised you wouldn't just …" He puffed out a long breath through pursed lips. Maybe Castiel couldn't help it. "Just try not to do it, okay? Talk out loud."

"I did not want to interrupt you. That would be rude."

Mac shook his head, sinking down into the nearest chair and running both hands through his hair, a gesture Jack recognized as exhaustion combined with frustration. "Cas, I appreciate your attempts at observing social norms and cultural mores, but if you could just take my word that I prefer to be physically interrupted rather than by you going directly into my head, I'd really appreciate it. I might have mentioned my personal space bubble. My head is definitely in it."

"I am sorry, Mac."

Mac smiled slightly at Cas's chagrined expression. "That's okay. Just … It's okay," he repeated. "What do you need?"

Cas hesitated, frowned, and then spoke. "I must apologize again. I read your thoughts and …"

Mac took another deep breath, looked like he might speak, but then just let it out and waved for Cas to continue.

"You are planning to use these things tonight."

"Yeah," Mac said, nodding.

Jack added, "The sooner we get clear of this, the better."

"Since we can't just gank this chick, I'd just as soon get her bound so we can chuck her in the ocean or something ASAP," Dean agreed.

"You need to wait." Cas emphasized his statement with a curt, definitive nod.

Cas shook his head. "Tonight is the night of no moon."

He looked at them expectantly.

"Okay, I'll bite," Mac sighed. "Why does that mean we have to wait?"

"Because that is the night every month of her greatest power. It is a night to attack vulnerable things. She sees in the darkness because she comes from it."

"Well doesn't that sound cheerful," Jack said with a roll of his eyes and a worried frown at Mac.

"It is not a cheerful thing at all, Jack," Cas said seriously. "It would put Mac in very grave danger to meet that creature on this night."

"Well, we sure as hell don't want him in more danger than he's already in," Jack said, his voice taking on the protective edge that Mac knew meant he was going to wind up frustrated with his partner before very long.

"No, we do not," Cas agreed. "Dean, tell this young one I am not overreacting. I do not overreact."

"Quit reading my mind," Mac bit out.

"I was not. But your eyebrows speak almost as loudly as your thoughts, Angus … I am sorry … Mac." He paused. "Dean, reassure him, please."

"He's on the up and up, kid. Cas has never steered us wrong yet."

"So … If you're going to call foul on tonight's mission … What do you suggest?" Mac asked, not really prepared to argue any more.

He could tell from Jack's expression that it would just make him more entrenched in protective mode, and Dean looked ready to follow right along with his cousin. Since he didn't have Sam here to tell them to chill out a little, he was probably stuck going along with a delay of game.

"I have no suggestions for how you might spend your time this evening, but I will advise you to stay together. Spending time some place where other humans congregate and there is light and noise and companionship would seem the safest way for you to get past this dangerous moment," Cas offered opening his hands. "I would also suggest that I stay with you, as additional protection."

Mac shrugged. "Whatever. I'm still going to finish this stuff up though."

Sam came back through the door then with the rest of what Mac needed for his various contraptions. "Hey, Cas," he greeted mildly. "What's up?"

Dean answered, "We're scrubbing tonight. New moon. Cas says it's a no go."

Sam nodded. "I wondered about that."

Jack grumbled, "Why didn't you say somethin'?"

Sam shrugged, "You and Dean have a history of just ignoring me and bulling into stuff. Didn't think it was worth the argument if it didn't show up in Mac's research."

Mac suddenly seemed to be looking everywhere but at Dean and Jack, mostly by giving at least three of his projects his undivided attention all at once.

"Did something about the new moon show up in your research?" Jack asked, an edge creeping into his voice.

"I … um … not really …" Mac mumbled.

"Angus Henry MacGyver," Jack barked, calling up memories of days of uniforms and sand in their boots. "Did you know the new moon might make tonight more dangerous?"

Mac shrugged, glancing at Jack guiltily. "I guess. I mean, I saw a few references, but I just figured she … she wants my blood Jack … The danger is relative." Jack glared in return. "That's how it feels anyway."

Sam was the most immediately sympathetic. "Yeah, it can be like that when you know something's set its sights on you."

Mac looked up at him. "That's happened to you?"

Sam nodded. "But you can't lose sight of the mission, even when it feels personal. It causes trouble, gets other people hurt."

He locked eyes with Dean across the room and something passed between the brothers that Mac recognized immediately. The story told by the look was that Sam had lost sight of the big picture, had maybe been reckless, and it had cost Dean deeply. He wasn't going to make that mistake with his partner. That had happened before and he didn't want a repeat performance.

"Okay, I get it. A step back is a good idea. I should have said something." He looked at Jack again. "I'm sorry Jack. Whatever we do tonight should be up to you. Old Man's choice."

Jack chuckled, and though his expression still held some reserve, some annoyance that Mac had held something back from him, he wanted to let the kid off the hook at little. "How about you finish up and then we all go get some dinner."

Mac grinned. "Sounds like a good start."

Dean grinned at his cousin. "There's a joint up the street that does a mean rack of ribs …"

"Aw man, I love ribs done right, Cuz."

"I remember," Dean smirked, thinking he'd never seen anyone with an appetite quite like Jack's when it came to charred cow. "They also have karaoke," he added with a double raise of his eyebrows."

"No! No way" Mac and Sam said together.

"Too late, Mac," Jack crowed, mostly thinking a couple of beers and bad karaoke would be the perfect way to get Mac to relax a little and also to annoy him enough that he'd be too distracted to think about La Llorona and what was in front of them, not to mention to while away the time tonight which Mac would so clearly rather be using to get the hell out of this mess. "You admitted you pulled a bonehead move and gave me Old Man's choice. Old Man chooses karaoke."

Half of Mac's mouth lifted in a wry smirk. "Well, at least I got you to cop to being an old man."

Sam grinned at Mac, in what he hoped was an encouraging way. Letting go of something like just wanting to put an end to a threat, even when you knew you might not be thinking about it clearly, was tough. And this was so new to Mac, Sam had wondered how it might affect his decision making. So far his cousin's partner was doing pretty well. "Dean chose it too. He suggested it even. That makes him an old man by default."

Mac laughed at the totally offended look on Dean's face. Dean, on the other hand, took a pillow off the bed and chucked it at Sam's head. "Bitch!"

Sam smirked as he chucked it back. "Jerk."

0-0-0

The bar was about as noisy and smoky and crowded as Jack and Dean had hoped. When Sam and Mac came in on their heels, they both shared a look of disapproval at the number of patrons with cigarettes or cigars hanging off their lips. Mac was used to Los Angeles, which had been one of the first places in the U.S. to ban smoking in public places, and Sam just had a general disdain for anyone actively doing something so negative for themselves. It also irked the hell out of him that Dean smoked sometimes. He knew Jack did too since their Texan cousin had been the one to introduce Dean to cigars.

Jack and Dean seemed unfazed as they made their way through the jampacked dance floor over to one of the tables. Mac slid in to one of the seats by the wall when it became clear Jack was waiting for him to take a position he could secure. Sam did the same, not because Dean was being the over protective pain in the ass he used to be, but because he thought Mac needed a kindred spirit to talk to. As a couple of intellectuals in a very non-intellectual situation, Sam thought it would ground both of them. Cas sat down next to Dean. There really wasn't room, but that never stopped Cas from sitting anywhere, they supposed. And larger tables weren't available on this busy Friday night.

The teased hair, bleached-blonde waitress came over and took their order, and Mac and Sam shared another look. Leave it to Dean and Jack to bring them to a bar that was a literal stereotype. Mac had to admit though, the Family Business Microbrew that Jack preferred and that seemed to be widely available here, was damned good. High proof, but smooth. Sam agreed but wished aloud that their co-dinners, including Cas, weren't chugging it like there was no tomorrow.

Mac just shrugged. Jack had a tendency to tip a little heavy if he was stressed. He also had the weird ability to only be as buzzed as he wanted at any given moment. Like he could shake off being half in the bag at the drop of a text. Mac had no such ability though, and about a third of a half of a beer in, his head already felt light. Sam figured an empty stomach did that to a guy and he hadn't noticed Mac eating all day, just moving food around mostly.

When their food came, Sam watched Mac a little more carefully than he might otherwise have done. Something more than tension about not just getting to go out on the mission was building, but he couldn't quite figure out what. Unlike the rest of them who'd ordered a combination of burgers and ribs (this was Texas after all), Mac ordered the chicken fingers and fries. As far as Sam could tell he'd taken a couple of bites and was mostly moving things around.

Sam was about to say something about Mac's distracted demeanor and total lack of actual dinner consumption (he had a fair amount of experience with both) when their table's number got called for the second time that evening by the MC for the evening's karaoke entertainment.

The opening number for the Not-so-dynamic duo of Jack and Dean had been a practically tone-deaf version of Wanted Dead or Alive. Sam and Mac had just looked back and forth at each other laughing into their beer. Cas had been confused. "Why are people clapping at them? Sam? Angus? Explain, please."

Mac shook his head. "I wish I could, Cas. But … It's not about how they sound I guess. It's more that people … Other people wish they were brave enough to get up there and suck that much and keep smiling, I think."

Cas had appeared to consider that for a few minutes and then he nodded sagely. "They are both very brave."

Sam snorted laughter. He'd been listening to his brother's bad karaoke for years.

Of course, they all gently teased the performers when they returned to the table. But Jack kept darting glances at Mac. Something wasn't sitting right with him. Mac wasn't as pleasantly distracted by their antics as he had hoped. Mac's good-natured ribbing has a rehearsed, scripted feel.

Jack leaned across the table, during someone's raucous version of Garth Brooks' Friends in Low Places and whispered something neither Mac nor Sam caught. Shortly thereafter their number came up again. They started out with some low almost country electric guitar, and then Dean gave the song away with the perfectly delivered movie quote, "Yoohoo. I'll make ya famous."

What followed dropped Mac, and Sam, and even Cas's jaws. This version of a Bon Jovi song entirely made up for the earlier debacle. Singing with almost perfect pitch and blending their voices in complex harmonies like they'd rehearsed it a thousand times, Jack and Dean practically silenced the whole bar. When they finished, silence followed for a moment, before the whole crowd erupted in screams, shouts, and applause of adulation.

Calls of "Encore!" and "More!" rang out over the bar. Jack glanced at their table and saw the awed expressions of the angel, as well as Mac and Sam and just tipped the MC a grin. "Audience's choice."

After several minutes of audience members voting and passing money back and forth, some familiar music floated over the crowd. Mac sucked in his breath a little at the pure, almost sweet sound of Jack's carefully cultivated tenor singing the words to a song Mac's dad had loved when he was a kid.

"Carry on my wayward son …"

Then Dean joined him, huskier, deeper, but no less beautiful. "There'll be peace when you are done."

"Lay your weary head to rest. Don't you cry no more …"

Mac suddenly felt the urge to do just exactly what the song was telling him not to. He swallowed hard against the unexpected feeling and slid out of his seat.

He tempered the weird surge of emotions with the thought that he was going to punch Jack in the arm as hard as he reasonably could for pretending to suck at singing for so long, mostly because he was pretty sure it had been done as a ploy to distract him in the past and also because he felt affronted at the past assaults to his ears.

"Hey," Sam frowned up at him, around Cas who was transfixed by the beauty of the music Jack and Dean were making, partially due to his surprise that Dean could actually sing and partially because music tended to do that to angels. Cas had once told Sam it reminded him of home, the way it was supposed to be. "Where you going?"

Mac didn't exactly look at him when he answered. "Bathroom, then … You want another beer?"

Sam continued to frown, but he was so surprised by his brother's beautiful voice, by Jack's too, that he wasn't paying Mac his full attention. "Yeah, that'd be great … Did you know he can sing?" he asked.

Mac shook his head slowly. "Nah, but now I feel like he's been playing me for years. They could have their own record deal." Rather than say much else, he glanced at Cas. "Get you another beer, Cas?" he asked.

Cas nodded slowly. He couldn't quite open his mouth to say anything. Their music was too perfect. And he felt weirdly susceptible to being transfixed tonight.

Mac just gave him a nod and headed off toward the rest room.

Sam's eyes followed Mac across the bar. "Hey, Cas?"

"Yes, Sam?" Cas responded, not taking his eyes off the stage.

"Does Mac seem okay to you?"

Still not paying Sam any particular attention. "He seems upset, but trying hard to hide it. Beyond that I do not know. He has made it very clear that he does not want me in his head."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I don't think he much likes anybody in there, even metaphorically speaking." Talking to himself more than to Cas at this point, he murmured, "Maybe that's why this is bothering him so much. La Llorona is in there, and he can't just pry her out."

A minute or two later, he saw Mac exit the men's room and make his way over toward the bar. Mac moved through the crowd like a ghost, never quite touching anyone else, his facial expression changing subtly with everyone he made eye contact with, scanning the room with seeming casualness that covered up an intense vigilance.

Sam gave a little shake of his head. Dean and Jack were in fits over the threat to Mac, pushing their concern over anyone else La Llorona might harm well into the background of their thoughts. Cas was, too, although he hadn't exactly said it out loud. Sam had his own protective streak. He knew he did. You couldn't really be raised by Dean Winchester and not come away with one. But it was nothing like a fierce as Dean's, or Jack's apparently. And Cas … this was a new side of Cas that made Sam wonder about it a little.

But, watching Mac approach the bar, Sam thought again that maybe the guys were overstating Mac's potential vulnerability. Sam had some idea of what those two really did for work, and he'd sort of always wondered how a spy would work a room. Now, though, he realized he needn't have wondered. Mac moved like a Hunter. Hyperaware of his surroundings without even realizing it, evaluating people, potential threats in a way that was automatic. And his movements were fluid, athletic, trained.

And good Lord, nobody needed to worry about a demon-goddess creature nabbing him in this place. Sam thought every woman in the place had their eye on him and more than a few of the guys did too. Sure, Mac was a good-looking guy, but not more so really than any of the rest of their party.

Sam thought it was maybe Mac's natural charisma that was so downplayed by his modest, self-deprecating nature. Whatever it was, nobody was going to make a move on Mac without almost everyone else in the bar noticing. Mac was leaning against the bar ordering when a very attractively built woman in impossibly tight white jeans and peasant top divided with a red silken sash and dangerous red stilettos sidled up to him and started talking. Sam couldn't see the woman's face, but Mac's almost blushing smile and immediate response told Sam he didn't need to be staring at the guy from across the bar just because the others were worried about him. He let his eyes wander back up to the stage where Jack and Dean were finishing the song.

Raucous cheers and applause followed them back to their seats at the table. Dean slid right into his seat, edging Cas back over toward Sam and picking up his beer with an almost blushing grin of his own. "Didn't know your big brother actually had some pipes, didja Sammy?"

"You know I hate it when you call me Sammy, Dean. I'm not a chubby eleven year old," Sam groused in familiar terms.

Jack had almost made it to sitting when he frowned at the empty seat and stood back up, looking around the bar. "Where's Mac?"

Sam shrugged, glancing around a little, too. "He was getting some more drinks, but got waylaid by a hottie at the bar. Looked like he was enjoying himself."

Jack squinted through the smoke up at the bar. "Well, he's not there now … I'm just gonna go have a walk around and see where he's gotten to."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure he'll appreciate that Jack," he said sarcastically. "The girl was cute as hell and Mac was actually talking to her last I looked. Weren't you giving him shit the other night for his total lack of game? Let the guy be."

Jack's brow creased further. "I would if some chick wasn't roaming the roads looking to drink his blood, Sam … I'll be back."

Dean got up, too. "I gotta hit the head anyway. I'll see if he's in there."

Cas watched the two men walk away and his face screwed up in intense thought.

"What's up, Cas?" Sam asked.

"I told Mac I would stay out of his head, but they are worried, and now I am worried."

"Look, don't go digging around or anything, but given the situation, I don't think it would be so bad to be able to tell the guys he's okay so they'll leave him alone long enough to have a drink with a pretty girl," Sam reasoned. One night to just kick back a little would probably do Mac a world of good.

Cas's frown deepened.

"Go on, Cas, it'll make you all feel better."

Cas met Sam's eyes with his own. "That is the problem, Sam. I just tried. I cannot locate Mac."

"In the bar?"

"Anywhere."

Sam was practically shoving Cas out of the booth a moment later. "Dean! Jack!" he called as he and the angel moved around trying to locate Mac or the other guys. Finally, they ran into each other by the jukebox. "Sam, what is it?" Jack asked before Sam could even open his mouth.

"Mac's gone. Cas can't find his thoughts."

Jack and Dean shared a quick look that was both wide-eyed concern and immediate deadly anger. "Son of a bitch," they bit out in unison.

Then the three of them headed out of the noisy bar to decide what to do next.