"You don't," says Peter sharply, though he doesn't even get the whole phrase out before he's peering off into the darkness again like he's expecting something to pounce on him any second.

"What he means is we don't have the weapons and we're practically on their home turf," supplies Cascia, who's not looking any less paranoid right not for all that she's taken shelter by the big bad wolf.

Peter swallows, nods. "We need wooden stakes, holy water...sunlight...."

What he'd give for a sunrise right now.