The sun shone dimly in the morning sky, as if the bright moon from last night stole most of its light. The impala lurched into the small parking lot in front of the sheriff's station. Dean put the vehicle in park and grabbed for the door handle but was stopped when a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him back into his seat. Dean looked over at Sam.
"What?" he asked, a little harshly.
"I want to know what's going on with you." Sam said sternly. Dean tried to laugh it off.
"What? Sammy, there's nothing-"
"Don't bullshit me Dean." Sam cut in, "I don't know what happened last night but that was not you. You're not the type of guy to shoot first and ask questions later; especially when it's a kid you're shooting!"
Dean sighed.
"Sam, listen… I'm just trying to get this job done, hunting what needs to be hunted. Now, you can help me or play therapist, up to you. But I'm going to speak with the sheriff about the pile of dead bodies this town seems to be raking in!"
With that Dean climbed out of the impala and slammed the door behind him, not bothering to wait for Sam, who quickly clambered out after him.
"What about his friend?" Sam called after him. "The one who jumped in front of the gun? He didn't look like anything we hunt."
Dean stopped in his tracks, closing his eyes and remembering the scene from last night. Two naïve, young kids… and he'd pointed a gun straight at them… Dean snapped himself back to reality.
"Look Sam," He started. "I wasn't serious about the whole therapist thing, so can we please just go inside and figure out how to close this case."
Sam stared at his older brother for a second, and then finally gave in.
"Yeah… let's go."
Together they walked into the sheriff's station, suits on and FBI badges ready.
"Can you take it easy on the pot holes?" Scott complained as he clutched his shoulder. "I may have super healing but it doesn't work that fast."
Stiles swerved harshly to avoid the next pot hole, causing Scott to ram his injured shoulder into the Jeep door.
"Sorry…" Stiles said, keeping his focus on the road.
"Just… hit the pot holes…" Scott said through clenched teeth. They pulled up to the sheriff station and Stiles parked the Jeep crudely. Both boys hopped out and made their way into the station.
"So what exactly are you hoping your dad can help us with…" Scott asked as they burst into the lobby.
"I don't know… maybe he can help us track these rogue hunters, whoever they are. I mean two guys wandering around the reserve… with guns… at night… that's a worthy enough complaint for the sheriff, right?" Stiles resolved.
"Whatever just make it quick. I have an essay I need to write." Scott said.
"Seriously?" Stiles raised an eyebrow. "You got shot last night and you're worried about homework?"
"Yes cause If I don't hand that paper in on time then Mrs. Brundby will shoot me!" Scott replied.
"Fair point…" Stiles concluded.
"Just go!"
Stiles burst into his father's office.
"Dad! I need to talk to you right now."
Stiles stopped immediately in his tracks when he saw that his father already had two visitors.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt –"
The two men turned around and Stiles felt his entire body freeze as he was struck with a bolt of pure fear. The two hunters they had seen last night in the woods, stood directly in front of him. They were no longer clad in plaid however, nor were they holding shotguns in their hands. They now wore suits and ties, and held FBI badges instead. When they saw Stiles, recognition flared in the men's eyes. They obviously remembered him too. Stiles might have stood, frozen in fear for hours if his dad hadn't interrupted.
"Stiles? I'm a little busy right now… is it urgent?" his father asked, concern lacing his voice.
"Wha…? Oh, um… no, no it can wait. Sorry…" he stumbled. He turned and closed the door behind him as quickly as he could. He walked immediately over to Scott and grabbed his arm, pulling his friend with him.
"This is bad, this is so bad." Stiles said as he casually tried to find a place to hide.
"What? What happened?" Scott asked as they turned the corner into another corridor.
"There's no way they're FBI... no way..." Stiles whispered to himself.
"What? Who is? Stiles what are you talking about?"
"and my dad? What do they want with my dad?" Stiles asked. Scott grabbed his friend by the shoulders and shook him out of his trance.
"Stiles! Speak to me." He exclaimed.
"Right! Sorry…" Stiles shook his head, as if he were trying to wake himself up from a dream. He took a deep breath and explained.
"The hunters who shot you last night, they're in my dad's office right now."
Scott's eyes widened.
"And they have FBI badges…"
That's when Scott started hyperventilating.
"Scott. Scott! Calm down!" Stiles grabbed his friends' shoulders.
"The FBI… *wheez* are hunting me*wheez*." Scott made out. "Why are the FBI hunting me? *wheez*"
"I don't know." Stiles said. "But if you'd calm down and use your super hearing maybe you can find out!"
Scott nodded, calming himself down.
"Okay…"
He focused on the three muffled voices coming from the sheriff's office and listened intently to the conversation.
