Just so you guys know, I'm making it so that Erica didn't die, and was rescued with Cora and Boyd. I don't know where exactly I want to place this in the story, so I may change a few more things. Just remember that they are intentional. I may have Stiles inform his dad of the supernatural sooner, and Jackson never left Beacon Hills; he's still together with Lydia. Oh, and Lydia knows she's a banshee, Stiles helped her figure it out.

Plus, if you've ever seen Psych, then that's how I imagine Dean's mind works.

"Stiles, come on! We're gonna be late!" Scott shouted at his best friend as he hurried to get ready. After their unsuccessful battle against the Alphas, they needed to find a new strategy.

"Dude, let's go!" Stiles replied as he came skidding out of Scott's room, swinging his keys on his fingers. "Soooo…..how do you think this is gonna go?" Stiles questioned as Isaac hopped in the backseat of the powder blue Jeep. "I don't know Stiles, I don't even know if we can beat them."

"Come on man, don't be so pessimistic, I'm sure we'll find a way." Stiles encouraged as he backed out of the driveway, then turned towards Allison's house to pick her up. After the quick stop, they headed towards Derek's loft.

As soon as they entered the space, they made themselves comfortable. Just as Scott closed the door, Derek came down the stairs, followed by Erica, Boyd, Cora, and Peter. They had two guests yet to arrive, so they waited.

After a few minutes, Jackson and Lydia let themselves in through the door. When they all got situated, Derek stood in the middle so he could grab their attention.

"Alright, does anybody have any ideas on what to do? Our last one didn't go so well."

While the meeting went on in Beacon Hills, Sam and Dean sped down the highways towards their destination. They hadn't been too far away, so they would be there in a few hours. Sam glanced at his brother from the passenger seat. He looked well enough, but it was almost dark and he knew that Dean hadn't slept more than a few hours in total this week. He couldn't help but worry. Whatever was happening in Beacon Hills sounded big, and he wasn't sure that was something that they should be taking care of right now. God knew that they weren't up to strength at the moment.

Especially with Dean's state at the moment. And it wasn't just the fact that he was convinced Dean had PTSD, although his brother probably would never admit it, but it was how he came back without Cas. Sam knew his brother, and his brother didn't take well at all to people dying on his watch. Usually, Dean would start hitting the bottle heavy, but ever since coming back from Purgatory, Dean didn't get more than slightly buzzed.

He kept wondering, and he thought he came up with a solution on their last hunt; Dean always liked to be aware on hunts, but since his little trip to the monster world, he was aware all the time, and he got anxious and mad at himself when he wasn't 100% focused. He wondered if it had anything to do with Dean blaming himself for losing Cas, for his "failure" to get him out alive. Sam shook his head and looked out the passenger window into the dusk. He couldn't look at Dean too long without him noticing, and he noticed almost everything.

He mused on Dean's hunting prowess and how much it had grown. Dean had been the best hunter Sam had ever seen, and that included his father. But after Purgatory, it was like Dean moved to a whole new level, a league of badassery all his own. On their last hunt, he single-handedly took out seven bloodthirsty vampires in the course of a few minutes. He solved cases faster too. He knew Dean was smart in his own way, but he never knew to what extent. It was like his brother made an effort to make himself look dumber than he was when around anyone. But lately he was getting more glimpses of Dean's mental agility, and it astounded him; the way he saw patterns and fit things together, noticed seemingly small and insignificant details. It all showed him just how much he had underestimated his brother in the smarts department. He made himself a promise to never underestimate his brother again.

Dean noticed Sam glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. He didn't really mind; he knew Sam was worried about him, and he wasn't really helping to reassure his brother that he was ok. Hell, maybe he wasn't. He could still see the moment he failed Cas, like a captured picture in his brain. He'd never get over the look in Cas's eyes as his hand slipped from his. He blinked the image away, and tried to concentrate on only the road.

But that wasn't going so well. Ever since he got back, he couldn't seem to settle down, and sleep was a distant friend, left somewhere in the past. He thought his sleeping patterns were bad before, now they were seemingly nonexistent. He was lucky if he caught an hour or two every other night. He sighed as he thought about it; no wonder his brother was worried. If he were in Sam's place, they wouldn't even be hunting. No, he would have taken his brother to Bobby's old cabin, and waited until his brother seemed relatively ok.

But he wasn't his brother, and he felt as if he was undeserving of such worry. What had he done that held any merit to counterbalance his countless failures?

Nothing, you miserable scum. You should've been left in Purgatory. Like you left Cas….He was your best friend, and you failed him. And now you're causing your brother to worry. What if that worry for you gets him killed on a hunt, huh?

Dean acknowledged the voice of his guilt in his mind. It was almost a constant thing; not like those crazy's at the mental institutes, he wasn't that crazy. It was more like talking to himself in his head, acknowledging his messups. Like a conscience he kept himself accountable to.

But it was right. He'd lost Cas. He should've fought harder, should've been smarter. And he knew no matter how many people he saved, he'd never forgive himself for that.