Disclaimer - Justified & Supernatural are not mine.

Chapter 3 – Seeking Evidence

The US Marshall's office in Lexington, Kentucky, was located in the same federal building as the courthouse. Raylan Givens had just sat down at his desk when Chief Deputy Art Mullen called him into his office.

The Chief's walls were full glass windows that allowed him to look out over the deputies working at their desks. Raylan went in, closed the door, and stood expectantly. Art motioned to one of the two chairs facing his desk. Raylan sat down, not quite sure what to expect. With the Chief, it could be a rant, a lecture, an emotional check-up, or an order.

"You went to see Boyd Crowder?"

"Yep."

"You learn anything?"

Raylan shook is head slowly. "Nope. Boyd claimed he knew nothin' about it."

"You believe 'im?"

"Yeah, actually I do. But there were two strangers in the bar. Younger guys. They looked damn familiar." Raylan's eyes narrowed as he recalled the memory. "Dean and Sam. Claimed they were lovers on a hunting trip."

Art raised his eyebrows. "Well that's a new one. You believe them?"

"I don't know. Somethin' about 'em felt off. But assuming they weren't lyin' about being in North Carolina up until this morning, they didn't have anything to do with this."

"Well, let's concentrate on what we do know." Art kept talking then, but Raylan had stopped paying attention. He was going over the crime scene, what had happened in Johnny's Bar, and the details of the case in his mind. Every so often a word or phrase from Art would drift into Raylan's consciousness. "…Miami scumbags thinking they…running guns up…back roads like we wouldn't…20 Colt .45's, a handful of Winchester rifles …"

Raylan's focus shot up to the Chief. "What did you say?"

"Mostly AK-47's."

He shook is head. "Before that."

"Uh," Chief Mullen looked down at his list, "20 Colt .45's…"

"After that," Raylan said impatiently, his gaze intensifying.

"Winchester rifles?"

"Winchester," he repeated and immediately got up to leave.

"Somethin' you wanna tell me?" the Chief called after him.

"Not yet." Raylan immediately went to the desk of Deputy Tim Gutterson.

Tim had been a sharpshooter in the US military before joining the Marshall service. As we watched Raylan coming towards him out of the corner of his eye, he almost wished he was back behind the scope of a long-range rifle. His colleague obviously wanted something, and Tim was tired of always being the one he asked.

"Tim, I need you to run a couple of names. Dean and Sam Winchester."

The younger Marshall just looked at him. He could say no. He'd done it before. Of course he'd just end up running the names anyway. Raylan had that affect on people for some reason. They always ended up doing what he wanted. Well, the good guys did anyway. The bad ones usually just tried to kill him. 'Course that didn't mean he couldn't make it difficult for the man. One of the perks of the job was giving Raylan Givens a hard time.

"Well?"

"You do realize I have my own work to do."

"You do?" Raylan shot back. "And here I thought they just paid you to sit around and look pretty."

"Well I suppose I am the pretty one," Tim deadpanned as he tried to decide how much energy he was willing to expend on yet another lost cause. "They connected to the bodies found this morning?"

"Don't know yet. Maybe."

"So just following another Raylan Givens hunch then."

That made Raylan scowl. "When have I ever led you wrong?"

"Do you really want a list? 'Cause I can put that together for you. Now would you like that before or after I run these names?"

"Let's go with after." He started to walk away.

"You know you can do this yourself," Tim called after him.

"What would be the fun in that?"

xxxx

Dean Winchester, his brother Sam, and Boyd Crowder drove up to the crime scene. Dean had insisted they take his car. The brothers didn't like to go hunting without their gear, and it wasn't the type of gear most people considered normal. As they walked to the police tape, they saw a man in a Sheriff's uniform walking to meet them.

"Boyd, I thought I made it clear we were even now," came a soft but determined voice.

Before the lanky man could answer, the two brothers had stopped in their tracks, and a single name escaped Dean's lips. "Bobby?" His voice almost cracked with the last syllable.

Boyd turned around to look at the two hunters. The world-weary men they had been was gone, replaced by eyes filled with pain, fear, and a bit of hope. He didn't know that the Sheriff was the spitting image of the man they had recently lost, a man who had helped raise them as though they were his own.

"I'm sorry?" the Sheriff asked confused.

"This is Sheriff Shelby," Boyd found himself explaining. "Sheriff, these men recently lost their sister. They think the man that killed her was also responsible for this." He gestured towards the crime scene. "This isn't for me. It's for them."

"Shelby?" Sam finally asked in confusion.

"That's right. Shelby just recently became Sheriff. Didn't you, Shelby?"

"That's right."

"How long ago?" Dean prodded. It wouldn't have been the first time one of them had come back from the dead. Hell, Bobby had died and been resurrected within a few hours during the last day of the Apocalypse.

"About a month maybe."

"Before that," Boyd continued, "Shelby worked security at the local mine. That's where we met."

"When?" Sam asked.

"Must have been a year or two ago."

A year or two – pre-Leviathan and Bobby's death. A Shapeshifter, the other known option, would have surely turned into someone else during that length of time…so just some weird fluke, another cosmic punch to the gut. The brothers began to breathe again. Sam looked down, pinching the bridge of his nose. Dean closed his eyes and shook his head. When they both looked back at Boyd, their faces had changed back to the hard looks they had worn earlier.

"Sorry…Shelby?" Sam asked, offering his hand. "You look a lot like someone we recently lost. It just took us by surprise." The Sheriff shook the young man's hand. "I'm Sam. This is my brother Dean."

Dean just nodded. He put his hand in his jacket pocket, running his fingers over Bobby's flask. God, he missed Bobby. And, he just realized, he hadn't called Frank yet. That would have to wait. First they had to determine if this was an actual hunt or not.

The younger brother continued, using his innocent face and puppy-dog eyes to full effect, "Like Boyd said, we think the person who did this might be the same one who killed our sister. We were really hoping to get a look at the crime scene, maybe figure out who did this."

Sheriff Shelby looked from one brother to the other. The shorter one with the shorter hair had a hand in his pocket. Although he seemed okay now, the Sheriff had been affected by the man's grief only moments ago. The taller one who could have passed for one of them Seattle types was looking at him expectantly. "Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt." And he led them across the police tape.

Sam and Dean immediately went into hunter mode, searching the ground for any evidence of vampires or other blood-sucking supernatural beast. All the while, they asked the Sheriff questions about the condition of the bodies, the locations of the puncture marks, the theories that had been discussed amongst the law enforcement officers. Neither man could bring himself to look at not-Bobby. It was easier to concentrate on the job.

Dean really hoped they could do this without having to examine the body. After their run in with the Marshall, he didn't want to have to con his way into the morgue.

"Dean," Sam called suddenly.

"You find something, Sammy?"

Sam answered by holding up a long white object flecked with bits of red. The three other men walked forward to examine it. A tooth, long and sharply pointed at the end, lay in Sam's hand.

"What is it?" not-Bobby asked.

Sam and Dean gave each other half-smiles. They'd be killing something, most likely some things, soon. "Evidence," Dean replied.

"I should turn that over, share with the other agencies."

"You do that," the younger brother agreed, dropping the tooth into not-Bobby's hand. Sheriff Shelby gave them all a look and walked to his car.

"Boyd," Dean said a little too enthusiastically. "Tell us, have you had any new neighbors come into town recently? Maybe they took over an abandoned house or are seen mostly at night. There'd be at least three of them, maybe no more than ten. Any of this ringing any bells?"

Boyd thought for a moment. "As I recall, there have been rumors that people have moved into Mags Bennett's old place. But I have yet to make their acquaintance."

"Consider yourself lucky."

"I take it these are the men who killed your sister?"

Sam ignored the question. "Where is Mags Bennett's old place?"

"Well, now, I'm not sure I should divulge such information until I understand exactly what's going on."

"Believe me, Boyd. You're better off not knowing." Dean was feeling much better now that he knew dead vamps were in his future.

"I…see…I am not…comfortable with the amount of glee you are displaying right now."

Sam, ever the voice of reason, spoke. "I get that. I do. We just want to make sure no one else dies here. Just tell us where we can find these new neighbors. We'll have a little discussion with them and then be on our way. It'll be like this never happened."

"It is a little ways. Perhaps we best get back in the car," Boyd suggested. "It'll be easier to give you directions as we drive."

The brothers looked at each other. Dean nodded. "If he wants to come, let him come." Sam sighed and nodded his agreement. He just hoped they weren't about to get Boyd Crowder killed.

I couldn't put these together and not acknowledge that the great Jim Beaver is in both. Please forgive me if you thought it too sappy or forced. (I'm really hoping we'll see more of Shelby in Season 3.)

Until next time...