The slightly dusty 1967 Chevrolet Impala barreled down the highway at high speeds easily matched by the rest of the Kansas driver. Dean was tapping happily along with Metallica with his sunglasses on as he drove into the sun, following Sam's careful directions to the state capital. Simultaneous to their movement, a black toy car was carefully shifted along a map in a dusty barn miles of road away. As the little toy car was slowly shoved along the miles of road to Topeka, finally the Hunters were becoming a less prominent threat to the band's operations. In their temporary absence, the search was going into high gear and back at the school a certain deal was going down between Officer Woodsworth and another of the band's drum majors.
The broad shouldered school enforcement officer had an impressive white handlebar mustache that twitched when he spoke, "So, you want the footage of behind the concessions shack for last Friday's game."
"That's right." The student council president and drum major answered with an easy smile. "The band's agreed to do you one favor in return."
"I'm not going to pretend I don't know why you want that footage." The officer said, "You want to go after the boys that almost got the new kid killed."
Marissa didn't see the point in lying to the officer, he knew about the band's nighttime adventures. "That's the plan." She sighed.
"And y'all are sure you don't want to step back and let the professionals handle this?" he asked looking down at the brunette.
"The last time Hunters took a case in this town was over 60 years ago. I don't see a point in breaking that streak now. There's a fragile peace now, I think outsiders would upset that." She looked around at the clueless teachers wandering the halls sometimes accompanied by students were also just as uninformed of the monsters that sulked in every dark corner. "Not to mention, the attack on Logan makes it an internal affair. We'll handle it."
"If you say so." Officer Woodsworth held up a tape in his hand, "One recording of the back of the concessions shack last Friday in exchange for one favor." He traded the tape for a signed piece of paper.
"Officer, do you have any idea what you may ask the band to do this time?" Marissa inquired, wanting to book one of the other drum majors for the event
The big man looked dreamily into the distance, "I was thinking I might have y'all come and spruce up the block party this year." Any and all dreams of coming out of this easily, were crushed in Marissa's mind. If there was one thing the school enforcement officer knew, it was how to get his money's worth out of a favor.
"I cannot believe you idiots!" the coach screamed into the purple painted locker room. The werewolf Louisburg Football team looked at each other in confusion. The Louisburg coach paced back and forth infuriated. "You just had to go and grab a snack after the game didn't you?!"
"Well, Coach," a football player said dumbly, "We were hungry and that cheerleader was just asking to be eaten."
The coach interrupted pacing across the purple floor, "And their football coach and varsity players too?"
Assorted nods and "Yeah"s echoced throughout the crowded room.
The Louisburg football captain intervened smartly, "Coach, they saw us feeding on the cheerleader, we couldn't let them live."
"AND THE BAND STUDENT?!" the coach howled angrily, "DO YOU CARE TO EXPLAIN HOW THE BAND STUDENT LIVED?!"
An awkward pause followed the Coach's outburst, "Coach, I'm sorry. We were going to deal with him, I swear. But that Band Director came over with his flashlight, and we panicked."
The coach gnashed his teeth, continuing to pace angrily, "It wasn't enough for you to just walk away before attacking the band student, was it? No, you were hungry and wanted him too."
"Coach, we said we're sorry." Another player spoke up.
"SORRY DOESN'T EVEN BEGIN TO COVER IT!" the older man yelled, "You've couldn't have gotten hungry somewhere else? Olathe? Manhattan? Paola?" the coach rubbed his temples, "We could have handled the Hunters. But no, you had to decide to snack in DeSoto of all the places." He looked back to the purple team, "Do any of you even listen to me? I specifically said, do not grab prey anywhere east of Lawrence, south of the river or north of the Flint Hills."
"Aww, but coach," a player spoke up against his better judgment, "DeSoto's just a no name town, with a no name school. Who's gonna care if a few people are killed?"
"I warned you not to feed there. Now you've brought the hornet's nest down upon us." The coach turned away, "And with that band student involved, rest assured we'll be seeing purgatory soon."
The player who'd just spoken laughed, "So who cares, DeSoto's got plenty of band students."
"WHO'S GONNA CARE?" the coach screamed finally losing his last strands of patience, "I'LL TELL YOU WHO'S GOING TO CARE! THE DESOTO BAND WILL CARE!" Again, the players looked at each other confused, so what if a few band nerds were mad, "Unfortunately for us, DeSoto's got the most sophisticated defense system against the Supernatural I've ever even heard of. And the front of that organization is the only team that doesn't completely stink at that school, the Band!" the coach said, knowing the danger, "Thanks to attack on the band student, they're coming directly after us." The coach explained the issue and the team began to grasp it with frightening clarity. They were preparing for war.
The dusty black car came to a halt in the parking lot of the Kansas capital building. Dean squinted up at domed building's greenish tint, "Man, that thing sure hasn't changed at all."
"No kidding." Sam agreed, "They've even got that statue still on top. What exactly did they spend so much time remodeling?"
"I don't think it was the politics, seeing as this state still goes Republican every election." Dean replied as the brothers cut across the sunny parking lot to the grasses where the domed building stood. The pair walked around the building's edge until they found a man sitting alone on a marble bench, just as Bobby had said they would.
Sam smiled down at the man like a friendly giant while the little old man met his gaze through thick glasses. "Are the secretary of education?" the younger brother inquired.
"Kansas Secretary of Education, Mr. Brown at your service." The brothers shook the little man's hand politely, "I take it you are Bobby Singer's friends?"
"That's right." Sam told him.
Mr. Brown closed his eyes and handed over the brown paper sack, "Two officially registered substitute teachers' licenses, as promised." Dean took the bag carefully while the secretary of education stared at the ground, "I should've known that man wouldn't ask for anything legal, I may lose my job because of this, but a promise is a promise."
Sam looked sincerely at the man with his puppy dog eyes, "Thank you Mr. Brown. Think of it this way, we're helping save lives." The education secretary waved him off and shuffled away, leaving the brothers to make their way back to the car and check out the bag's contents.
With Dean back in the driver's seat of the Impala, Sam removed the two plastic from the stealthy bag across his lap. He held them up to the light, squinting at the fine details that made the licenses legal. "We're good to go." The younger brother said, handing Dean his card. "Looks like Bobby used our agent names again. I'm Oberon, you're DeSalle."
"Easy enough to remember." Dean told him appreciatively. "We need to get moving though if we want to keep an eye on that kid, Logan."
"Yeah," Sam answered, stowing the substitute teachers' license, "Let's go."
The Impala peeled out of the asphalt lot unquestioned as it proceeded back to the highway it had come in on. Nearly an hour later, as the sun sank below the horizon line, the Impala pulled into the beat-up middle school lot that lead to the DeSoto School Dictrict's shared stadium. Dean passively shifted the dusty car into park and rolled down a window making sure they had a clear line of sight to the stadium. It was nearly a half an hour before they saw any kind of movement, peering through their binoculars. But even then, it was just a few equipment managers preparing for practice. The sun continued to slowly sink and the stadium lights were turned on at band members began to show up in waves, assembling in small groups on the track. Sam and Dean were so busy spying on the band that they didn't notice when a pasty white figure snuck right up to driver's side door of the Impala and sought to gain the brothers' attention.