A Supernatural/X-Files crossover. One-shot. Though we all know the Mulder/Scully line from the Pilot and other random references, this is not an, 'Oh my God, Mulder and Scully are real!' fic. This is an actual fic about how the boys encounter FBI agents who are more informed than any they've ever met.

Rated: K+

Yee Naaldlooshii

Special Agent Dana Scully pulled up the long dirt driveway to the farm, glad to see lights still on in the house. It was about eight o'clock, but it was urgent that she asked the young man who lived there a few questions about a new development in the case she was working. Pulling over next to a truck, Scully put the car in park, turning it off and taking off her seatbelt, tucking her keys in her pocket.

Scully took out her cell phone, dialing the number 1 on her speed dial. She waited as it rang.

"Mulder."

"Hey, it's me."

"Hey, Scully, I was just about to call you. I got Chinese. I was expecting you back at the motel like half an hour ago."

"Change of plans. I talked to Sheriff Nathan; it turns out the latest victim did know the Quidels. She worked with their son Jared at the factory in town. I'm at his farm now. I'm going to ask him a few quick questions. His truck's here and the lights are on so I think he's still awake."

"Wait, Scully," Mulder said suddenly. "Why not wait until tomorrow? I can go with you."

"I just wanted to get a few more answers," Scully told him. "I'll be back at the motel within an hour."

Mulder hesitated and then sighed. "Alright. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"That's giving me a lot of leeway," Scully told him.

"Ha ha. Get back soon or I might finish your food too."

"I will." Scully closed the cell phone, putting it back in her pocket, and got out of the car. She walked toward the house, but stopped suddenly when she saw a faint shine of light in the bushes. She took a step back, but she didn't see it again. The hair on the back of her neck started to stand up and she swallowed, pulling back her jacket to rest her hand on the butt of her firearm.

"Someone there?" she asked, walking forward. Scully reached into her jacket and pulled out her flashlight, flicking it on and turning it toward the bushes. It slid over two crouched human forms. Instantly, the gun was out of her holster and in her hand, pointed at them. "Come out slowly, with your hands behind your head!"

There was a muffled curse and some movement before two young men gradually came out from the bushes, obeying her orders. "Look, you need to get back to your car," the taller of the two said. "It's not safe here right now."

"Down on your knees. What are you doing here?" she asked.

There was a pause. "We know the Quidels," the other one said finally. "We're worried they might be in danger. What are you doing here?"

"Special Agent Dana Scully, FBI," she shot back. "I said down on your knees."

"You don't understand—," the taller one started. His voice cut off as he looked to the bushes, catching motion. "Oh Damnit!"

"Don't move!" Scully snapped, refocusing the gun on his chest as he started bringing his arms down.

Then, Scully heard a twig snap and her head turned toward the motion. She barely had time to bring her gun around before she was tackled to the ground. She felt a slicing, violent pain in her shoulder before she was propelled down, her head smacking on the cold, hard ground, and stars flashed in front of her eyes momentarily before everything went black.

00000

Sam and Dean both drew their weapons as soon as the creature leapt from the bushes, aiming, but hesitating to fire, lest a stray bullet hit the FBI agent.

"Hey, ugly!" Dean yelled suddenly.

The cougar's eyes darted to Dean and a growl came out from low in its throat as it took off toward him. Both brothers shot at it several times, about half of the bullets making their mark on the swift creature, and it fell, tumbling a few times before it came to a stop, limp on the ground. A few seconds later, it shuddered and gradually shifted back to the twenty-three year old young man it had been before it shifted, a cougar skin over his body.

Dean let out a long breath before he walked forward and nudged the boy's body, gun still at the ready. When he didn't react, Dean leaned down and checked his pulse. "He's gone," he muttered, standing up and tucking his gun in the back of his pants.

Sam walked past him over to the FBI agent, kneeling at her side and checking her pulse as well. "She's okay. Got a hell of a claw mark on her shoulder though. Let's get her back to the car, put some gauze on it."

Dean nodded once as Sam carefully lifted her into his arms. They walked back to the Impala, which they had parked on the street at the end of the driveway of the neighbor's house. Dean opened the back seat and Sam got in, laying Scully down and pulling her jacket back and her shirt down over her shoulder to examine the wound. He cringed and turned toward the open car door, waiting for Dean to bring the med kit.

Dean laid it down on the paved road, opening it up and taking out a thick pile of gauze, handing it to Sam. He took it, turning back to Scully.

"What now?" Dean asked.

"Hospital," Sam told him, wiping away the excess blood.

"Dude, she saw our faces," he pointed out. "She's FBI."

"Okay, what do you recommend?" Sam asked, glancing back to his brother.

Dean sighed. "Hell, I don't know."

"Well she isn't going to forget us and she needs to be patched up," Sam said, applying the gauze to the wound and holding it there. "And she won't stay unconscious for much longer. She'll have a nasty bump, but she's going to wake up."

Dean hesitated. "Give me her cell phone."

Sam reached into the FBI agent's jacket pockets, quickly finding a cell, and handed it to his brother. Dean scrolled through the numbers. "Mulder, Mulder, Mulder. Okay, I think that's probably her partner."

"You want to bring more FBI into the mix?" Sam asked.

"Well if this guy'll tell us where they're holed up, we can bring her there, patch her up, and maybe convince him that we aren't any trouble. We don't have to tell him who we are; we just have to have him brush us off."

Sam sighed and nodded. "Alright."

Dean pressed the send button and waited as the phone rang.

"That was a short interview," the voice on the other end said.

"Is this Mulder?"

There was a pause. "Who is this? Where's Scully?"

"She's fine, she's right here. She's unconscious though. My name's Derek. My friend Shawn and I were at Jared Quidel's house when we heard something outside. She was attacked by some animal or something."

"Damnit," Mulder muttered. "Did you see him?"

Dean hesitated, blinking. "See who?"

"I mean it. Did you see it?"

"Ah…. No. But my friend and I were hoping to bring Scully to wherever you're at."

"Yea, Motel 6 on Mohawk Road. Room 8," Mulder replied quickly.

"Alright. We're on our way." Dean closed the cell phone with a nod to Sam, who slid over slightly before Dean closed the door.

It was only a few minutes into town, but Scully started stirring after a minute or so.

"Hey, careful, you don't want to move," Sam cautioned her. "It got you pretty good."

Scully blinked her eyes a few times and her face cringed at the pain. "Agh," she muttered, instinctively raising her hand to her shoulder. "Who are you? What happened?"

Sam had to hand it to her. She was pretty composed despite the claw marks on her shoulder and what had to be a killer headache. "Don't move; I'm putting pressure on the wound. I'm Shawn. That's my friend Derek driving. Something attacked you. We're headed toward the Motel 6. We found your cell phone and called Mulder."

Scully swallowed, forcing her hand back down from Sam's, which was holding the gauze in place, and blinked a few times. "What was it?" she rasped.

"Ah…looked like a cougar. It ran off," Sam replied. "You up to date on your rabies vaccination?"

"I'm an FBI agent," she told him with a smile. Actually it was more of a grimace, but it got the appropriate emotion across. "We tend to need to be prepared for anything."

Sam smiled in return. "Good. Just lay still, concentrate on breathing and don't go to sleep."

"Got it," Scully said with a tiny nod.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the motel. Dean turned off the car, shoving his keys in his pocket, and went around to the trunk to get the med kit. Sam helped Scully out of the car, replacing his hand with her own over the wound, as the man he could only assume was Special Agent Mulder walked from the doorway of room 8.

"Scully?" he asked, taking her by her right arm as Sam supported her left.

"I'm okay, Mulder."

"We should get her inside," Sam told him.

Mulder gave him a nod of agreement and they helped her into the motel room, soon followed by Dean, who closed the door and put the med kit on the bed beside her. "You get us some towels?" Dean asked, taking off his jacket before putting on a pair of surgical gloves. "And could you fill up the coffee pot there with some warm water?"

Mulder blinked. "Hell of a med kit you've got there."

"You're raised by a Marine, you pick up a few things," Dean replied with a half-grin. Mulder gave him a dry smile as he went into the bathroom, taking a few of the old towels and bringing them over, grabbing the coffee maker. "Let's get this off. Careful," he murmured, slowly pulling back her jacket. Once he got that off, Dean paused. "You okay with me helping you out of your shirt?" he asked.

"I might need stitches. I think I'm past self-conscious," Scully told him.

"But you cop a feel and I will shoot you," Mulder told him, putting the coffee pot on the ground beside Dean.

Dean let out a soft laugh. "Fair enough." He took the scissors from the kit and started cutting carefully at the sleeve and then up the front of the shirt, Mulder helping her out of the other sleeve as he knelt beside her.

"Yea, looks like it needs stitches," Dean murmured, examining the wound. He glanced up to her. "Probably only nine or ten though. You want to head to the hospital to get the good drugs or you okay with medium-grade stuff?"

Scully sighed as she cringed. "Town like this, hospital's a good half hour away. Just…as long as your instruments are clean, let's just get it done here."

"They're clean," Dean said. He took a towel, pouring the warm water on it, and began cleaning the wound. Scully cringed. "Scully said she's got her rabies shot up to date, but you should know that we don't know where that cougar's been," he pointed out.

"I'll keep that in mind," Mulder replied.

"What's a cougar doing in Minnesota?" Scully asked tightly.

"Got me," Dean murmured.

"A worn copy of Indian Myths of the Northwest by Clarence Bagley," Sam suddenly spoke up. Dean glanced to his brother, whom he realized hadn't spoken since they'd entered the motel room. He had a book in his hand and picked up another. "And Indian Legends from the Northern Rockies by Ella E. Clark." Sam held them out, the covers facing Mulder, a dim smile on his face and an eyebrow raised. "Some light reading?"

"Actually, research," Mulder replied.

Dean continued to clean the wound, letting Sam handle the talking.

"Well, you guys definitely are FBI. You've got the attitude down too well to not be," Sam murmured. "But for you to be doing this kind of research is kind of irregular."

Mulder stared at Dean as he finished cleaning the wound and dried it. "And what kind of research is that?"

"The accurate kind," Sam said.

Scully swallowed past the pain before looking to Mulder and then to Sam. "What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Don't move. I'm workin' here," Dean muttered. "Hold that there." Scully held the towel over her wound as he threaded a needle.

"Special Agent Mulder, let me ask you a question," Sam said, putting down the books. "If I were to say the words yee naaldlooshii, what's the first thing that comes to your mind?"

Scully looked up to Sam with narrowed eyes before looking back to her partner. "Mulder, call me crazy, but didn't you say something like that this morning?"

"And you had no clue what it meant, yea," Mulder replied. He pushed himself up off the floor and sat down on the bed opposite of Scully's. "Yee naaldlooshii. With it, he goes on all fours," he said to Sam. "It's a Native American legend. Commonly thought of as a skinwalker, it's pretty much witchery. Assuming an animal's form, usually by wearing the skin of the animal. And they have to kill a member of their family to get the power do it."

"That's why you called it him instead of it. Well I'll be damned," Dean said softly, motioning for Scully to move the towel. "A hunter in the FBI. Careful, don't move," he said as he began the stitches. Scully gnashed her teeth together, closing her eyes, and tightened her fingers around the edge of the mattress.

"What do you mean, a hunter?" Mulder asked, blinking at Dean.

Sam cocked his head slightly. "A hunter. As in…. Hold on, you don't…? You're just in the FBI? You believe in stuff that's out there and you're an FBI agent?"

"Well let's just say I want to believe," Mulder said with a shrug. "And I've seen too many things not to, really."

"That's unbelievable," Sam said with a smile, walking around Dean and taking a seat across from Mulder. "So you knew what was going on here. The skinwalker."

"I had suspicions. What I'd like to know is how you knew about it."

"Shawn, I don't think that's a good idea," Dean said pointedly, not moving his eyes from the needle in his hand.

Sam looked to Dean, sighing. "Yea. Okay."

Mulder looked from Sam to Dean and back. "What? Not big on sharing?"

Sam lifted the side of his mouth in a dry smile. "Not so much, no."

Mulder raised an eyebrow. "Tell me you at least got it." The smile disappeared from his mouth as Sam folded his hands in his lap and looked down to the ground. He didn't reply. "Oh." He paused. "You did get it," he muttered, realizing the implication of the statement. Sam didn't reply.

"'Sat bad?" Scully whispered as to not move her diaphragm.

Mulder let out a long, silent sigh through his nose. "No, Scully, it's not bad. It's the only reason you're still alive."

"That's good then," she whispered.

"Yea," Dean murmured vaguely. "That's good."

Mulder looked back to Sam. "Thanks," he said quietly.

Sam nodded, looking back up to him. "You're welcome."

Mulder paused, thinking for a few seconds. "So taking into account the fact that you knew what you were dealing with, I can make the assumption that you've done this before." Sam raised a questioning eyebrow, but said nothing. "You saved Scully's life, brought her back here when you could have just dumped her at a hospital and taken off. And Derek knows his way around a med kit pretty well. So he's done stitches before too. More than once." Sam was still silent. He couldn't stop where Mulder's train of thought was going, but he wasn't going to help it along.

"Killing the skinwalker wasn't okay for you though. Even though it looked like an animal when you shot it, it wasn't okay," Mulder said softly. "So you have regard for human life, however corrupt it gets." Sam finally tore his gaze away at that. "That's a pretty big thing to have for something like this. For someone like that. But you thought I was a hunter. That's what you called it. Hunting. But it's not just for skinwalkers, is it?"

Sam shifted his gaze back to Dean. "How we doing on those stitches?"

"Butterfly bandages, then I'm done," he murmured, putting them carefully over the wounds. When he was finished, he took a bottle of painkillers out of the kit and opened it, shaking two out and giving them to Scully.

"Thanks," she said with a sigh, slowly getting to her feet and making her way to the bathroom for some water.

Sam nodded, looking back to Mulder. "So we're gonna take off," he said quietly. His words gave a deeper meaning though.

"Yea. Sure," Mulder replied. He pursed his lips. "I appreciate you bringing Scully back here after she got attacked by that dog."

Dean raised an eyebrow in silence as Sam examined Mulder's expression for a few seconds before slowly nodding. "Yea. Of course."

"In the future if you ever have any info about something that could help us out," he said, reaching into his jacket pocket and taking out his wallet, removing a card and handing it to Sam, "I'd appreciate a call."

Sam took the card and slid it into the back of his jeans with a distant smile. "Sure thing."

Dean stood up, taking out a garbage bag and putting all the bloody towels in it, followed by the gauze, the needle, and the gloves he'd been wearing before tying it off. He put on his jacket as Sam and Mulder stood up. "Thanks again," Mulder said, holding out his hand. Sam shook it firmly, nodding once, before he turned and left the apartment with Dean, med kit in tow.

Mulder locked the door, looking to Scully as she walked back in the room, sitting down on the bed with a sigh. "Where'd they go to?" she asked.

"Had to go. Something about a long drive ahead," Mulder replied.

"Wha…? Mulder, they were at the Quidel's," Scully told him, her narrowed eyes tired but focused in annoyance. "They were hiding in the bushes. I wasn't sure—."

"Scully," Mulder said, walking over and sitting next to her on the bed. "The thing of it is, you saw that cougar attack you, right?"

Scully blinked at him. "Well, yes. By the way, their story changed over the course of the conversation from what they'd told me."

"I don't doubt it. And that's because when you go back to the Quidel's tomorrow night, you aren't going to see a dead cougar."

"I'm sorry?" she asked in confusion.

"You're going to see a young man, Jared Quidel I'm assuming, naked wearing the skin of a cougar."

Scully stared at him for a few moments. "You're going to need to run that by me one more time."

THE END