Cas was fine when they first got there. He made them sandwiches and microwaved soup for supper (small town hotels only had so much in the way of kitchen appliances.) They all hit the sack, but in the middle of the night, Cas woke up screaming and Dean knew it would be a while before they could start on the case.

Cas had these episodes every once in a while. He'd be totally fine and then out of the blue he would relapse into Crazy Cas state. And not naked-covered-in-bees-crazy, but totally-mental-patient-broken-screaming-crying-crazy.

All Dean had to do was look at Sam and his brother nodded once before he began stuffing things hurriedly in bags. They couldn't stay at a hotel when Cas was like this. Either someone would complain about the noise or someone would call the police. So finding an abandoned place was always fun. Often times, they ended up staying in the Impala or in the middle of nowhere. At first, Sam thought it was weird to spend the night in an open field, but then he realized that, hello, a year in Purgatory, and he didn't say anything about it again.

So they drove out of town, Dean holding Cas in the backseat and Sam in the front.

They went a ways into the woods before stopping.

"Is here alright?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded once before opening the car door. Cas was currently lying perfectly still across his lap, eyes wide open. Dean scooped him up and lifted him out of the car, Sam shutting the door behind them.

Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Is it really okay to be out here? We did come to hunt."

"If we're in trouble, Cas'll snap out of it," Dean said. That was what happened in Purgatory, after all.

Sam got the blankets out of the back and spread them out alongside the Impala, three on the ground, and waited for Dean to lay Cas down before heaping the other five around him.

"Should one of us keep watch?" Sam asked.

"I will." Dean would be up with Cas anyway.

Sam nodded in compliance and laid down on the blanketed ground. Dean sat on the other side of Cas, tucking the blankets around him and pulling him closer. He waited a good hour, just to be sure Sam was totally asleep, and then starting singing—very, very softly, like he would on those nights that were especially cold, or when he and Cas were separated and he felt utterly alone.

Hey Jude, don't make it bad.

Take a sad song and make it better.

Remember to let her into your heart,

then you can start to make it better.

Hey Jude, don't be afraid.

You were made to go out and get her.

The minute you let her under your skin,

then you begin to make it better.

Cas wrapped his fingers around a hunk of Dean's jacket and Dean trailed his fingers through Cas' hair. He just wanted to make his angel better and he didn't have any idea of where to start. He didn't know who to ask, he didn't know where to look. All the other angels they used to know were dead—and not in Purgatory, by the way, so where the hell did they go when they died?—along with any humans that might've been able to help.

And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain,

don't carry the world upon your shoulders.

For well you know that it's a foot who plays it cool

by making his world a littler colder.

"Dean, we can't fall asleep." Dean squeezed his eyes shut and wished for all the world he could trade Cas places. "We can't even blink—they'll catch us off guard. We have to be ready."

"I know, Cas. You just shut your eyes. I'll keep watch."

"I don't need sleep. You do."

"You're tired, Cas. Go to sleep."

"They don't have bees in Purgatory."

"I know, Cas. I know." Dean continued running his hands through Cas' hair and he was quiet for a while, so Dean went back to softly singing.

Hey Jude, don't let me down.

You have found her, now go and get her.

Remember to let her into your heart,

then you can start to make it better.

"Dean, do you remember when I found you in Hell?"

Dean should his head. "I don't, Cas. I wish I did."

"There were so many hands there, reaching and pulling. Sometimes there were Hellhounds. Do you remember Hellhounds?"

"Yeah," Dean said, flashing back briefly to the tearing of his flesh, ugly snarls, blood spraying on every available surface. "I remember the Hellhounds." And they'd been over this a dozen times before, but he let it play out again. Cas always ended it differently.

"We should sew the button back on my trench coat later today," Cas said. "And later we can go to the garden."

"Sounds good. But you need to sleep now, okay buddy?" He didn't let his voice crack.

"Sing the song Mary sang," Cas said quietly. "I liked that song."

Dean tilted his head back to look at the stars and made sure he wouldn't lose control of his voice before singing.

So let it out and let it in, hey Jude, begin,

you're waiting for someone to perform with.

And don't you know that it's just you, hey Jude, you'll do,

the movement you need is on your shoulder.

Hey Jude, don't make it bad.

Take a sad song and make it better.

Remember to let her under your skin,

then you'll begin to make it

better better better better better better, oh.

Na, na na, na na na na, na na na na, hey Jude…

Cas had passed out, but begun thrashing in his sleep. At first it was soundless and Dean carried on softly, but then Cas starting shouting and screaming and Dean held him to his chest in an attempt to keep him from hurting himself. Sam woke up and didn't say anything, just grabbed Cas' hand to give him something to hold onto. Dean leaned his head back against the cool black surface of the only home he'd ever known and kept his eyes looking up because he could only watch his best friend snap so many times.

Tuesday morning, Scott practically jumped Stiles first thing at the school. "Did you hear it last night? Oh my god, it was the worst sound I have ever heard in my entire life. Do you know anything about it? It sounded like whining pipes, but about twenty octaves higher."

"Scott, I literally have no idea whatsoever as to what you're talking about."

"That screeching sounded!" he said, as if it was the most obvious thing it the world.

"Uhhh…no werewolf super senses, sorry. I heard nothing."

"How could you—it was so loud. I thought my eardrums were going to explode—I couldn't imagine being any closer, my whole head would've exploded."

"Are you sure it wasn't just your pipes?"

"No! Stiles, I'm serious. Have you heard from Isaac? It might've been coming from the woods. If it was too close—"

"Scott. Chill. Did you call him?" Stiles didn't make any remark on the fact that it was Isaac Scott immediately jumped to.

"Yeah, but he hasn't answered. And—"

"Derek?"

Scott's expression dropped.

"Dude, what the hell, if you're so concerned, man up and call the damn Alpha. He doesn't bite. Well…okay, bad analogy, but still."

"Why don't you call him?" Scott said.

"Me? Why do I have to call him?"

"You two get along!"

Stiles was torn between laughing hysterically and asking Scott if he was high, but a series of half a dozen unexplainable expression crossed his face in a matter of seconds instead. "Derek and I do not get along."

"Just call him. Please?"

Stiles nodded, giving in. "Fine, right. Call the werewolf Alpha living with the homeless teen wolf and creepy wolf uncle in the middle of the forest to ask if they heard anyone's pipes whining last night. Yup, no problem." He dug his phone out of his pocket and scrolled to Derek's number. One ring. Two rings.

"What?"

"Hey, so Scott's a big baby and didn't feel like talking to you, but he claims to have heard some freaky loud screeching sound last night—which he insists I should have heard, but I didn't—and he wants to know if his new BFF Isaac is okay."

There were several beats of silence.

"Isaac's fine."

"Great. So Scott was just having some wacked out dream."

"No," Derek said. "We heard it, too. It had to be within two miles of the property. We have no idea what it is."

Stiles had the sudden urge to drive back home and crawl back into his bed. "Well, that's just awesome."

"We're going to check it out," Derek said. "We're hoping for a scent or prints."

"Uh, what if whatever it is is still there?" Stiles questioned.

"Then we kill it," Derek said simply.

"Wha—no! You can't—I mean, you don't even know what it is! You don't even know how to kill it because you don't know what it is."

"Tear anything apart enough and it'll die."

"Okay, could you just, like, not engage in battle? Go out there and look around, whatever, but don't provoke it like some snake or something. It might not even be a bad thing. Maybe it's some harmless, lost…I don't know, something."

"Stiles, there's three of us."

"Yeah, and if you wait, you can have Jackson, Scott, and Allison, too."

"We also might lose any chance of finding it. Believe me, if you had heard it…just trust me. I'll call if we find anything." He ended the call.

Stiles didn't take time to think about the fact that Derek had just said he would call him, because then his head would probably explode. "Happy?" he asked Scott, knowing there was no need for him to relay any of what had just been said.

His best friend was wearing a ridiculous pouting face. "Yeah."

"Good. Because we have this thing called class, and it kind of starts in about two minutes."

Derek called during lunch and said they'd lost the scent. Apparently whatever it was had a car and two humans. And it smelled kind of human itself.

Cas screamed himself to sleep, and when he woke up a couple hours before dawn and met Dean's eyes, the first words out of his mouth were, "Sorry." Which was a good sign, because Dean had once made the mistake of yelling at him for apologizing too much, so if he wasn't listening, they had the old Cas back. Dean could breathe again.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Dean said.

Cas sat up and Dean let him, though he really just wanted to keep holding him, because maybe if he held him long enough, he'd stay put together. Cas the angel had a great fall, and all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Cas together again.

"We're here for the hunt," Cas said. It wasn't a question.

"We haven't started yet," Sam said as he picked up his blanket and went to put them in the trunk.

"Dean."

"Yeah?"

"You have to let go of my hand."

"Oh." Dean immediately released his grip on Cas hand. "Right."

Cas quickly went about folding his blankets and Dean took his and shuffled some things around in the trunk before putting it towards the back. Cas stood beside him to put his away.

Dean looked at Sam. "What do you think you're doing?" He had the car keys in one hand and the other on the door handle.

"Uh…driving?"

"No, you're not." Dean snatched the keys away from his gigantor brother and he rolled his eyes. "Who wants breakfast?" Dean asked as Sam went around to the other side of the car.

So they lucked out and found a 24/7 diner in Beacon Hills. Maybe there still was a God hanging around somewhere. Aside from the employees, there were only two other people there. It looked like a dad and his daughter, probably in high school. The dad glanced up, probably wondering what the hell three grown men were doing together at a diner at 4am and his daughter followed his gaze. Dean offered a smile as they found a booth and took a seat, which the two of them returned.

A middle-aged waitress came by with three menus and asked them what they'd like to drink. Dean got them three Cokes, and she said she'd be back in a few minutes to take their orders.

"So do you have any ideas?" Cas asked.

Sam shrugged. "All I got from the papers was they all died bloody. Supposedly animal attacks, but that's the go-to for the papers, so it doesn't say much."

"Did they mention any missing organs?" Dean asked, careful to keep his voice low.

Sam shook his head. "Some kills were made in the same night though. One morning they found three bodies together. A group of college kids that left a party late."

"Town or country?" Dean asked.

"In town. But some of them were found in the middle of nowhere."

"Okay, so place doesn't matter and neither does neatness."

"Vampires?" Cas questioned.

"Some of the kills were made during the day."

Dean rubbed his jaw. "Great. How about we focus on enjoying an early breakfast and think about this later?" He cast a brief glance to the father and daughter, but they were having their own conversation.

Sam followed Dean's gaze and agreed.

"…no, Dad. Me and Scott aren't getting back together."

"I'm not saying you will, but I just want you to know that if you did, I would be okay with it. I was mixed up before, but he's a good kid."

"Well, you don't have to worry about it anymore."

"If you say so. Now what about Peter, is…"

Dean stopped eavesdropping when the waitress came back.

Tuesday after school, Stiles got a call from Derek. Actually shocking. "Yeah?" he didn't have time to think of a witty opening line before he answered.

"I was thinking," Derek said.

"Well, that's a surprise."

"Shut up. If whatever we heard was human or had humans with it, they might be staying in town."

"Okay, and?"

"There are two motels. Peter and Isaac are going to one, and you and I are going to the other."

"Oh, are we?"

He could almost see Derek rolling his eyes, making one of his sour wolf faces. "Yes."

"What about Scott?"

"Are you really asking me that?"

"Well, he's a werewolf, you're a werewolf, it makes sense."

There were several seconds of silence and, despite Derek not being right in front of him, Stiles imagining his glare was enough. "Okay, okay! Fine! Who's driving?"

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Alrighty, then," Stiles said, though Derek had already hung up.

At first, he didn't see why they needed two people, but, thinking about it, he realized it made sense. If someone had to follow someone but someone else still needed to keep watch for someone. Yeah. That. And real nice of Derek to tell Stiles how long they would be there. He grabbed a couple cherry Cokes. He briefly wondered if it would be out of line to ask Derek to stop at Hardee's for some curly fries, and took a bag of pretzels from the cupboard instead. He grabbed a jacket and shoved his phone into his pocket and he was ready to go.

Stiles tried to open the pretzel bag quietly, because they were on a stake out and silence seemed right, but—let's be real—it was impossible to open a bag of pretzels quietly, and even more impossible for Stiles not to talk.

"So, like, what are we supposed to be doing? Who are we looking for? Or…this isn't really a matter of looking, more of smelly, I guess. I really don't get how I'm going to be any help—"

"Oh my god, Stiles. Do you see the numbers on each of the doors? Those are room numbers. If someone comes out of one of those room numbers and I recognize the scent, then we see what car they get in. If all three of them go, we follow them in my car. If only one or two of them go, I follow, you stay."

"Okay, but…shouldn't we have done some research or something first? I mean—"

"What are you going to look up? Things that scream really loud?"

Stiles tried not to snicker.

Derek held one hand up and the other below the steering wheel. "Maturity. You," he said.

"Okay, fine. Banshee."

"What?"

"Banshees. They shriek."

"Banshee's aren't human, genius."

"Not typically, but who knows—I didn't get to do any research."

"I'm sure this place has wifi."

"I am not using my phone to look up your shit."

"Then stop bitching." Derek snatched one of Stiles' cherry Cokes.

"Hey—ugh, asshole."

Derek took a few swallows. "I drove here."

"You drug me here."

"And I'm already regretting it."

Stiles glanced out the window and spotted the classic car he'd seen yesterday or the day before. And maybe he wasn't a vehicle genius, but that was a damn nice car. He heard his pretzel bag crinkling, but his hand wasn't in it.

"Derek!"

"Stiles, I swear to God, if you don't shut up, I will rip your tongue out."

"Derek, I swear to God, if you don't stop stealing my food, I will—"

"Shh!" Derek's hand covered Stiles' mouth and he gestured for him to sink lower. Stiles did as he was told, because Derek was serious.

He rolled up the windows and simultaneously turned the key in the ignition, and tore out of the parking lot.

"I'm guessing that wasn't the shrieking thing?"

Derek didn't take his eyes of the road. "Alphas." He grabbed his phone and dialed a number. "We were at the motel," he said after a few seconds, "and there were other Alphas there…yeah, I got out of there…well, what was I supposed to do?...right, of course, that's a great idea…no, he's not…I'll see…bye."

"Can I get up now and what's going on?"

Derek ignored the first question. "If one of the Alphas saw you with me, you'd probably end up on their target list."

"Right. Extreme lengths." Derek gave him a funny look. "So they'll kill people to try and get you join them…like when Peter wanted Scott to kill us?"

"Peter never wanted him to do that."

"Yeah, right."

"Stiles, can you just get past Peter. We have bigger problems right now."

"We? They want me dead!"

"They might not've caught your scent—"

"We're not that lucky," Stiles said.

"Is there anyone at Lydia's or Jackson's?"

"Lydia's parents are on vacation this week."

"Great. We're going there."

"What's wrong with my house?"

"It reeks Stilinski," Derek said. "If they look for you or happen to pass by it, they'll know you live there."

"I can't draw them to Lydia's!"

"Her family will overpower your smell."

Stiles felt like BO in need of perfume. "And I'm supposed to tell my dad what?"

"Tell him you're staying at Scott's." Derek tossed his phone at Stiles. "Text Peter and tell him we're going to Lydia's."

Stiles scooted up in his seat and scrolled through Derek's contacts.

Lydia was waiting on the front porch when they got there. Stiles got out of the car, waiting expectantly for Derek. "Aren't you coming?"

"The less wolf scent here, the better."

"Uh…what about Jackson? He's here all the time."

"I'll tell him to stay away from the Martins' for now."

"And how are you gonna be able to wrap this up within a couple days?"

"I don't know how long it'll take."

"I've gotta go home sometime—"

"Do you want to stay or alive or go home?"

Stiles refused to pout. Instead, he slammed the stupid shiny black fancy expensive car door and marched up to the Martins' porch.

Wait.

Shiny. Black. Expensive.

He spun back around, "Derek!" and ran back to the Camaro where Derek was rollig down the window. "At the hotel—in the parking lot. Yesterday I saw a car go by as I got home from school—it was a classic and it was black and maybe the sixties or seventies, I'm not sure. I thought it was weird, because all the rich kids here drive new cars. But then today, I saw it again."

"In the parking lot," Derek finished.

Stiles nodded. "Right."

"I'll check it out later," Derek said. "First priority now is keeping the Alphas away from you."

"Good. I like that idea. But someone should stay at the motel and keep watch."

Derek looked dubious.

"Just one person. Wolf. Whatever. I'll tell Scott to do it."

"Ask Allison," Derek growled tersely. "I'll need Scott. And just stay here." With that, he sped off.

Lydia came up behind Stiles. "So," she said, "it seems like everybody wants a piece of you."

"Maybe it's just not our gig," Dean said, letting the newspaper fall onto the table.

"You don't really believe that."

Dean shrugged. "So what? We've got nothing, Sam. Maybe it really is just animals."

Sam laughed humorlessly to himself. "Right. Some of this is too grotesque to be done by an animal. And why would any animal use its kill to decorate a tree? Or leave a carcass in an alley in the middle of a city?"

"Someone's been sitting in their car outside for over an hour."

Dean and Sam turned to look at Cas, who was sitting at the table by the window.

"Who?" they asked in unison.

Cas vanished for several seconds, then reappeared standing by the couch. "It's the same girl that was in the diner this morning."

Dean stood up. "What's she doing?"

"It looks like she waiting for something," Cas said. "She's been glancing frequently at the Impala."

Dean turned to Sam. "Do we know her?"

Sam shook his head. "No. And, if we did, why would she be waiting in her car that long?"

"I really hope we didn't kill her mom or something."

"She didn't react this morning," Sam said. "And it looked like she was with her dad."

"Well, let's go talk to mystery girl."

"Hold on," Sam said. "Maybe this is some weird mix up. We'll wait it out. If she's waiting for us, then she'll either follow us or jump us, right?"

Dean thought for a second a shrugged. "Fair enough."

The hours ticked by, the girl was still in the parking lot, and they weren't any closer to figuring out their mystery monster. Over the period of time, Cas' frown had been growing deeper and deeper. Finally Dean had to ask.

"Okay, what is it, grumpy?"

Cas continued looking at an imaginary spot on the floor. "I know her."

"Yeah," Dean said. "We saw her earlier today."

"I know that," Cas said, a note of irritation entering his voice. "I mean I know who she is. I just…I can't remember. I've got all the information in my head, but I can't just find it right away, now I have to sort through it—"

"Hey." Dean got up and knelt in front of Cas, forcing the fallen angel to look at him. "If you know it, you'll figure it out. Don't push yourself too hard. Okay?"

Cas bit his lower lip, and it was such a human gesture that it almost hurt Dean to see. "I'm an angel, Dean. It shouldn't be this hard to sift through—I shouldn't even have to sift through anything, I should just know, like you know your eyes are green, and Sam knows his hair is brown. I can't…"

And, okay, Dean could handle Cas like this. His head might not be on perfectly straight, but at least like this it was still attached. He grabbed Cas' arm. "Why don't you take a nap? Maybe some sleep will help you remember."

"If I was still an angel, I wouldn't have to sleep."

"Come on, you're still an angel. You can still fly."

"Angels aren't the only ones that fly, Dean. Birds do. Airplanes do. Lucifer does."

Dean shoved Cas' arm away and clenched his hands into fists. "Don't you ever say that again. Lucifer's locked up and you are not like him, do you understand me? You're nothing like him."

Dean was standing now, and Cas glared up at him. "I rebelled. I can't return to Heaven. Both of us express unacceptable emotions towards man."

"You rebelled because you wanted to save the world, Cas. And you haven't even tried to go back. You said the garrison was too small and they were trying to rebuild and they wouldn't take you back. Which, by the way, is bull, because Inias seemed pretty happy when he saw you all that time ago."

"He didn't know what I'd done," Cas said. "And if you remember that, you also remember Hester tried to kill me."

"So all the angels don't get along," Dean said. "Neither do people. But we all have to live in the same world, and we somehow manage it."

"Do you want me to go?" Cas asked, getting to his feet. "Is that what this is? You're trying to get me to leave, to get away from you and Sam?"

Sam finally stepped in then. "Cas, that is the last thing we want. What Dean's trying to say is…family's dysfunctional. Angels are family. Right? So not everything is perfect. Like…ever. So if you want to go back, which would be perfectly understandable…then you should try."

Cas looked with wide ideas from Sam to Dean. "I don't want to go."

"I know," Dean said. "You don't have to.

It was well after midnight when they finally gave up and went to bed. Dean crawled in beside Cas who was out as soon as his head hit the pillow. Dean was silent for several minutes, then spoke so quietly it was probably would've been inaudible had Cas been awake. "You're not like Lucifer. He hates people. You…you don't." He smoothed Cas' hair, closed his eyes, and let sleep have him.

The air was icy cold, like being in a blizzard inside a freezer in a blizzard inside of a freezer. There was no way to keep warm. Cas kept his wings wrapped around them, and maybe it helped a little, but it didn't do much against the weather of friggin' Purgatory.

"How long has it been?" Dean asked.

"Three months," Cas answered, shivering. "Exactly."

Dean closed his eyes for a moment. "We're never getting out of here."

Cas grabbed Dean's wrist. "You don't know that."

"This isn't Hell," Dean snapped. "Angels can't just stroll through here and pull out whatever soul catches their eye. This is maximum security monster prison."

"Things have got out before." Dean knew Cas was only saying this shit for his benefit and he probably didn't believe any of it himself, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Right. One of Bobby's friends and that one time you swallowed everything in here. 'Cause both those times worked out so well."

Cas drooped, except his wings which hunched up as if he wanted to withdraw into them. Damn, why did Dean always have to be such a dick?

"Cas, I—that's not what I meant, I'm sorry. I know you're just trying to reassure me or whatever, but I just…" He sighed and stroked a row of feathers on Cas' wing and he perked up visibly, the way a cat would purr if you pet it.

"You know, it's kind of funny," Dean said. "That something so big can be so sensitive."

"You should keep your hands warm," Cas said.

"What, are my fingers gonna fall off? Things don't work like that here. I'll be cold either way. They were silent for several minutes before Dean asked, "Did it hurt?"

Cas tilted his head. "What?"

"When…when your wings couldn't be contained anymore. They broke through the skin on your back."

Cas shook his head. "No, it didn't hurt. It felt…it was a relief to be able to spread them. If I keep them folded for too long they get cramped."

Dean wasn't quite sure if they were talking the actual physical, visible wings, or the spiritual ones that Dean could only see when they were shadows. He wasn't even sure if they were the same wings or different, but he nodded. And, because it was cold and communication helped keep him—and Cas—sane, he asked, "Do you ever lose feathers?"

"Sometimes," Cas answered. "They grow back." He plucked one off.

"No, don't—" Dean sighed. "Or do."

Cas handed Dean a black iridescent feather, almost all long as his hand.

"You didn't have to do that."

Cas shrugged. "I have plenty."

Dean twirled it between two fingers, watching as it flashed an array of colors.

"Are all angel wings like this?"

"Black?"

"Yeah. And opalescent."

"Some of them. There's gray, black, white, various browns…."

"What, no peacock feathered wings?" Dean joked half-heartedly.

Cas smiled. "No. No peacock angels."

"Tell me about them. Balthazar, Gabriel, Anna. All of them. What are their wings like?"

"Anna's wings were white," Cas said. "And they glistened, like mine do. Balthazar's were brown…reminiscent of a brown thrasher or sparrow. They were a bit bigger than the usual size."

Dean snorted. "Doesn't surprise me."

"Gabriel's were brown, too, but Archangels' wings are twice the size."

Dean took in the size of the wings surrounding him and tried to imagine them doubling in size. It kind of blew his mind. "Keep going," he encouraged, scooting closer.

"Each of the Archangels have a different color of feathers—the basic colors for the rest of the angels. Raphael's were a scintillating gray, Michael's a flat black, and Lucifer's are a bright white." He paused in thought. "Uriel's wings were white, too. And Zachariah's."

"Is there a reason for the colors? Like…do you each descend from one of the Archangels?"

"No," Cas said. "White is the most common—why most angels are depicted with white wings. Overall, gray are the least common, but flat black even less."

"Have I met any?" Dean asked. "Besides Michael."

"Virgil. That's it."

"What about Joshua?"

"Joshua has gray wings. After the war broke out…he disappeared. No one's heard from him since—unless they did in the past three months. Most people think he went to Earth."

"Huh. Don't see why. He had a pretty nice garden up there."

"Joshua was too kind for the war," Cas said. "He loved peace. Perhaps…perhaps God spoke to him and told him to leave Heaven. To abandon ship."

"He'd be better off on Jupiter than Earth," Dean remarked.

Cas froze and Dean fell silent. They exchanged a glance, Dean drawing a machete he grabbed from a vamp a while back and Cas drew a pair of foot long blades he'd taken from a shapeshifter. No peace in Purgatory.

About 5am, Dean was woken up by Cas. "The girl is leaving," he said. "I can follow her."

Dean nodded once. "Once you know where she's going, come right back." And he vanished.

Dean glanced over at Sam, who was still asleep, before getting up to shower. There wasn't much point in going back to sleep now.

"So," Lydia said, hoisting herself delicately onto the kitchen counter. "My food is your food. I usually order dinner when my parents are gone. But help yourself."

Stiles realized he'd forgotten his soda and pretzels in Derek's car. Damn. He grabbed a Sprite from the glorious fridge and leaned against the counter opposite from her.

"What's going on with you and Derek?"

Stiles paused before the can touched his lip. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "He acts differently around you. I mean, I haven't known him that long, but when you two are together, he's not so…harsh. It's like he's still serious, but he's more sarcastic about it."

It was Stiles' turn to shrug. "When we first met he was grumpy and serious all the time, but I guess I didn't take it that way? I was still myself around him, I didn't feel like I had to be serious just because he was, you know?"

She nodded. "Okay…I guess that could be it. It helps that you don't hate him for no reason, too."

"You mean Scott?"

"Yes, I mean Scott. What's his problem? I mean, I know he doesn't want to be a werewolf and Derek…took that chance away from him, right? But he didn't even know for sure it would work. I just don't get it."

"Honestly?" Stiles said. "I don't get it either. I mean, if he doesn't want to join Derek's pack, fine, but…"

"He doesn't have to be such a douche about it," Lydia finished for him. And then they were on to the next thing. "Allison's driving me crazy."

Stiles jumped up onto the counter, too, and took a sip of his drink. "How so?"

"She won't talk to me about anything. I know she really liked Scott—really, really liked Scott—but she's the one who broke up with him. And at first he was so obsessed with getting her back"—Stiles snorted. Further proof that supposed "waiting" had not gone well—"but now it's like they don't even look at each other hardly ever."

"I wish I knew," Stiles said. "Lately, he's starting spending a lot more time with Isaac."

Lydia nodded. "Like at the pack meeting. Isaac followed him out."

"Exactly," Stiles said. "I get that he needs werewolf friends, but I don't see where this came from. And it's like I'm getting kicked farther and farther down his priorities list." He immediately felt whiney after saying that, but, to be honest, he didn't care. He felt like he could confide in Lydia and she wouldn't judge him.

"We need to have an intervention," she said decidedly. "Try and get them back together."

"Agreed," Stiles said. "As annoying as it was hearing, Allison this, and, Allison that, 24/7, it's preferable to this."

Lydia pulled her phone out of her pocket. "Speaking of Allison," she said. "She's at the motel and so far no one's gotten in the Impala."

"Did you hear the supposed screeching?" Stiles asked.

She shook her head. "I didn't hear anything. But Jackson made it sound horrible."

"Do you want to see if we can find anything out about it?"

Stiles grinned. "Let's."

"We should get outta here without being seen while we can," Dean said.

"To the woods again?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded. "That'd be best."

"She went to the local high school."

Dean and Sam looked up at Cas, who had reappeared.

"She's in high school?" Sam questioned.

Cas nodded. "She parked and went to sleep in her car."

"Should we…watch her now?" Sam asked.

"It might be good," Dean said. "We could follow her after school."

"We'd have to stash the Impala," Sam said.

"What? Oh, come on. Baby?"

"She knows the car," Cas said sensibly.

"Damn it," Dean grumbled. "Fine."

"I'll keep watch while you get another car," Cas volunteered.

Dean looked at him with wariness and concern. "It'll take some time," he said. "We've got to go to a town far enough away that a stolen car won't be recognized here."

"I'll be fine," Cas promised.

"Maybe one of us should stay instead," Dean said hesitantly.

"Dean, I'm not a child," Cas said defiantly before flying off.

"He's making his own decisions," Sam said. "You wanted that."

"Yeah, I know," Dean said sourly. "But I don't want him to get himself in trouble."

For once, Stiles wasn't itching for school to be over with. He was actually kind of happy about it—Lydia had been the one to talk Derek into letting him go, saying all the other scents would be cover enough.

"So if mystery-shrieker isn't a banshee or jersey devil, then we've got nothing," Stiles said, running his hand through his lack of hair.

Lydia nibbled on a carrot. "We should start collecting old books on the supernatural. The internet's great, but it only goes so far."

"That'd be great, except I don't know of any voodoo, magic-y, supernatural-weird-stuff shops in Beacon Hills."

"It's too bad the Hales' house burned down. I bet they had loads of that kind of stuff."

Scott took a seat next to Stiles and set his tray a little too heavily on the table. And, oh, Stiles had been waiting for this.

"He shouldn't have taken you with him," Scott growled.

Stiles ignored Lydia's brief wide-eyed, raised-eyebrows expression. "Dude, I didn't have to go. It was my choice."

"Right, because Derek just nicely asks people to come on a stake out with him. And why did he even ask you? You can't heal yourself, you can fight something with superhuman strength. He should've asked me, or at least another wolf."

Stiles bit the inside of lip, trying to keep from snapping. "That right there is why he didn't ask you, Scott. You're a jackass to him for no reason. I'm happy to hear you think I'm absolutely useless. Sorry for being human."

Stiles left his tray of half-eaten food and marched out of the lunchroom, leaving a probably stunned Scott sitting by himself.

In the hallway, Lydia caught up to him. "You know, he probably doesn't mean to be such a jerk."

"Hmph. It doesn't change the fact that he is."

She shrugged. "Fair. Just don't be too harsh—Allison!"

Stiles looked up to see Allison walking towards them, droopy eyes complete with dark circles underneath.

"Oh my god, you weren't keeping watch all night, were you?" he asked, immediately concerned.

"I got about two hours of sleep in the parking lot before school," she said, shrugging it off. "I'm ditching next class and taking a nap in the library though," she said. "Wait…why aren't you two in lunch?"

"We were," Lydia said. "Then Scott showed up and we left."

"Oh. Was he being a douche again?"

"Pretty much," Stiles replied sourly. "Apparently I'm a useless human."

Allison rolled her tired eyes. "Join the club. He didn't think I was capable of watching for someone to get in a car."

"Yeah, the difference is you're not useless. You're like Black Widow and Hawkeye's offspring or Katniss Everdeen or something. I'm just Stiles."

"Excuse me, but if I heard the story right, you imagined a line of mountain ash into existence," Lydia said.

"Yeah, leaving Erica, Isaac, and Scott all stuck in a club with the kanima."

He cast a fleeting glance at Allison, realizing to late that might be a sensitive subject, what with her mom. She seemed to take it well, or else she just hadn't really heard because she was so tired.

"Either way, you're not useless," Lydia said in her this-is-final voice. "Allison, do you want some company?"

"I won't be any fun," she said. "I'll just be sleeping."

"I was asking, not requesting permission. Stiles, try not to get kidnapped during school in broad daylight by any alpha werewolves while I'm gone, okay? Derek would be pissed."

The corner of Stiles' mouth quirked up. "I'm pretty sure you could intimidate him out of being pissed."

She smiled before turning around to walk with Allison.