It was raining when they rolled past the Beacon Hills city limits sign. Dean Winchester glanced into the rear view mirror to catch sight of his seventeen year-old nephew who was asleep in the back seat. Stiles Stilinski used the dufflebag that belonged to Dean's brother, Sam, as a pillow and Dean's favored leather jacket as a blanket. Castiel would meet them at the Stilinski house, and had flown ahead to make sure the house was still habitable. While Dean had no real desire to settle, he and Sam had promised John Stilinski that should something happen to him, they would take Stiles home, help him settle into a normal life.

The lights turning on in the vacant Stilinski house caught the attention of the neighbors hours before the black Impala several remembered from years before pulled to a stop in the driveway. "Should we let him sleep?" Sam asked, sighing as he looked to his elder brother over the hood of the car after they climbed out.

"Yeah," Dean said with a sigh of his own, running a dirty and slightly cut up hand over his face. "I'll carry him. Can you call Jody and let her know we made it?"

"Sure." Sam nodded and made his way into the lit house, pulling his cell phone out to call Sheriff Jody Mills, one of their friends that Stiles had stayed with while they made arrangements.

Dean struggled to get the lanky teen out of the backseat, but eventually, he got his sleeping nephew out of the car and into the house, ignoring the stares of neighbors through the safety of their curtains. He sighed once again as he kicked the front door shut behind him, distancing them from the rest of the world.

"Do I have to go?" Stiles asked as he poked the eggs that Castiel had made him for breakfast. All he wanted to do was to go find the demon that had killed his father. The thing had possessed the man for a while before hand. It still angered Stiles that he had not even realized that something was wrong. He knew better than that, and he should have seen the signs.

"Yes!" Sam insisted from the other end of the table, where he was searching for local part-time jobs on his laptop. "Stiles, this is what your father wanted. You know that."

"Yeah, but..."

"No 'buts'," interrupted Dean as he came into the room. "C'mon, let's go. Got last-minute paperwork to do to get you enrolled."

Stiles rolled his eyes but grabbed the backpack sitting on the floor by his feet before he followed Dean out to the Impala. Dean would drive him around until they could get him a car of his own. "Trust me, kid, I know how you feel," Dean finally said after pulling out of the driveway. "But, revenge will lead you to places that you don't want to go. It's better this way."

The teen remained silent watching the town fly past the windows. Stiles had no real memories of Beacon Hills. His father had said he'd only been eight when they left, but Stiles could barely recall it. Bobby had said it was a result of having watched his mother die. He'd blocked the event any anything associated with it, including Beacon Hills.

Neither Dean nor Stiles said anything else the rest of the drive, nor as they crossed the parking lot to the school building after getting there. Stiles awkwardly shifted his backpack on his shoulder, feeling eyes on him as they walked. He really wished he had a knife on him, or a gun, or a baseball bat, even. Having a weapon always made him feel safer.

Stiles saw Dean's fingers flick toward his jacket, which concealed a weapon. Obviously, he felt the same as Stiles did. After Stiles and Dean went inside the school building, Allison argent turned to look at Scott McCall, her boyfriend of a year. "Do you know who that was?" she asked him with a slight frown.

"New kid?" replied Scott, tilting his head slightly to the right.

"That was Dean Winchester and I'm guessing his nephew." Allison brushed her curled hair out of her face, watching the double doors that the two disappeared through. "They're hunters." Scott seemed unimpressed, and Allison sighed at his response, shaking her head a little. "I mean, they're the hunters. They've killed more supernatural beings than any other family."

"Oh..." That seemed to drop a sense of realism to Scott, and he seemed to wilt slightly. "Maybe we should let Derek know."

Allison nodded as they started to walk toward the school hand-in-hand. "After school. He's probably at work right now, anyway."

When Allison and Scott got to their first class several minutes later, Stiles stood at the front shifting his weight from foot to foot as their teacher checked over the paper the new student had handed him. Allison seemed to watch Stiles warily as they took their seats near the back, though Stiles' attention remained on his shoes until the bell rang, making him tense for a moment as his gaze snapped to the door. "Alright guys," Mrs. Jennifer Laveau, their teacher, said with a smile toward the new student as she handed the paper back to him, "this is Stiles. Why don't your introduce yourself and take a seat?"

Stiles lifted his shoulder in a shrug. "I'm Stiles Stilinski," he introduced, frowning a little at the murmurs his familiar name brought to the room. "I used to live here, moved away, and now I'm back. Simple as that."

He said nothing else, and made his way toward an empty seat toward the back of the room, paying no mind to the eyes that followed him. "Alright well," said Jennifer, clearing her throat a little as she tucked her blonde hair behind each ear, "who wants to open discussion on last night's reading?"

Stiles did not seem to pay any attention in class, doodling in his notebook instead, pictures of demons and monsters that filled his dreams each night.

After classes that day, Stiles went for a run in the woods near the edge of town. When he came across a vaguely familiar stream, Stiles slowly came to a stop, breathing heavily. The teen dropped the bag he had brought with him and pulled out a bottle of water to take a drink from. Then, Stiles sat down on one of the large boulders near the stream and took out his sketchbook along with a charcoal pencil. The teen drew the stream and woods in front of him, along with a large block wolf that often appeared in his dreams and nightmares. Stiles was still aware of his surroundings, though most of his focus was on his drawing. He stopped several times at different sounds, in case he actually needed to grab the knife he had stored in his backpack.

He was not sure how long he'd been there when the sound of near-by laughter caused him to look up before a group of people came running into sight along the nearby path. The leader of the group stopped upon seeing Stiles, making those that followed him stop as well. "Stiles," the man in front said, making the teen's brow furrow. "I didn't know you were back."

"Oh, yeah," Scott McCall said from beside Derek Hale, the leader of the group, suddenly remembering what he was supposed to tell the other man.

"Do I know you?" Stiles asked, frowning when his question made the young man flinch. He opened his mouth to say something else, but cut off at a familiar whoosh! of air somewhere off to his right.

"Stiles, you should come home," Castiel stated as he took several steps toward the teen.

"Where the hell did he come from?" questioned one of the boys in the group that Stiles had not really met, though he thought the guy's name was Jackson. "Did you see where he came from?"

Stiles ignored the question and how the group seemed to go restless, except for their leader, who did not seem surprised at Castiel's sudden appearance. "Let's go," Stiles mumbled as he got up and shoved his things into the bag that he had abandoned earlier.

Castiel's eyes narrowed as he studied the group, waiting for Stiles to finish up. "Hale," the angel finally said, with a slight nod. "My condolences on your family."

Without another word, Castiel and Stiles walked out of the clearing. As they drew farther away, Derek and his friends heard Stiles laughing slightly as Castiel muttered under his breath about having to walk. "What the hell just happened?" questioned Isaac Lahey, one of the other men in the group, after a moment, making the others look toward him.

"I'm not entirely sure," replied Derek with a slight shake of his head. "Let's get back."

Stiles was helping Castiel wash the dishes after dinner when a slightly hesitant knock on the front door echoed down the front hallway. "Got it!" Dean called as he finished coming downstairs from having showered and changed into comfortable clothes, before opening the front door. The man's brow furrowed when he found a vaguely familiar man younger than him and Sam standing there. "What do you want?"

"Dean!" Cas chastised from the kitchen, making Stiles smirk in amusement as he handed a plate to the angel for him to rinse off.

"Right, manners or whatever. Can I help you, kid?" Dean crossed his arms over his chest. It was as the other man hesitantly opened his mouth to reply that Dean finally realized who he was looking at. It was in the eyes. "Derek?"

"Uh, yeah, hi," said Derek Hale slowly, rubbing the back of his neck in an absentminded gesture. "So, you're back."

"Yeah, would've given a head's up, but I thought you left again." Dean opened the screen door separating them and let Derek into the house. "Sammy! Get down here."

"For a while, yeah. I had to clear my head before I messed up things here." Derek's eyes flicked over to Stiles as the teen entered the room drying his hands, and then to the stairs as Sam came down them.

Sam laughed slightly when he spotted Derek standing near the door. "Derek Hale. You're all grown up now," the younger Winchester stated. "Keeping the pups in line?"

Derek nodded stiffly. "They do the same for me."

"Good," stated Dean with a nod of his own, glad that Derek at least had someone to look after him. The kid deserved as much after everything. "Did you want to talk?"

"Yeah. You should be caught up on things." Derek nodded before he followed Sam into the other room when the younger Winchester gestured for him to follow and Dean looked to Stiles.

"Homework, kiddo," Dean said with a nod toward the stairs. "Get going."

Stiles groaned and rolled his eyes, but made his way up to his bedroom anyway. Instead of homework, however, Stiles worked on unpacking his dufflebag. He never had much with him on the road; just clothes, weapons, and sketchbook. The teen focused on cleaning his handgun after he was unpacked, ignoring the fact that he had homework.

He was just reassembling it when Cas came into the room. "What're they talking about?" Stiles asked as he sat the gun down on the top of his desk before turning around to face the angel.

"Goings on in Beacon Hills since they were here last," replied Cas, slowly walking around the room.

"You mean when they got me and Dad?"

"No. When Laura died." Cas spoke evenly, as if it was something that Stiles should have known already.

Stiles, however, was completely confused. His brow furrowed as he glanced toward the door and straightened up in his chair slightly. "Who was Laura?"

"Derek's sister." Cas nodded a little, looking over at Stiles as he turned to face the teen. "Oh. You don't know about that."

"No, he doesn't," replied Sam as he walked into the room. "But he probably should. We all need to be on the same page. Dean's out with Derek, checking some things out."

Stiles kept his gaze on his youngest uncle while Sam walked over to sit on Stiles' bed. "So... what's the story?"

"The Hale family has been here for a long time. They're all... well, they're a type of werewolf. They're not... they don't eat hearts or anything; and, they can control the shift when it's not a full moon. Only the feral go after humans. Some of their family is... was human." Sam absently fiddled with a knife that Stiles had left sitting out as he spoke, keeping both Cas and Stiles' attention. "Right around the time your mom died, most of the Hale family was killed by hunters. Several years later, Laura Hale was killed. Dean came out and spent a week with Derek. I don't know what happened after that; we'll have to ask Dean details."

Stiles laughed slightly at that, running his fingers through his hair several times. "Yeah, because, Dean is always so forthcoming with information." Stiles shrugged when Sam glared at him, shifting side to side in his chair. It really did not matter, though. As Stiles glanced out his bedroom window to the first-quarter moon, he could not help but think that things were only just starting to get interesting in Beacon Hills.