Author's Note: Once again, thank you for reviewing, favoriting, and following! This chapter is pretty short, and not my best. It just wouldn't come out right. Hopefully the next one will be longer and better written. Also, I wonder if anyone has figured out where I'm getting my chapter titles from.
Well, Dad, there's a conversation we need to have..." Stiles said. The Sheriff held up a hand.
"I'll deal with you later." He turned to Sam and Dean. "Are you boys hunting like your dad used to?"
"What do you mean, Mr. Stilinski?" Sam asked, getting to his feet.
"Werewolves, vampires, demons, I don't know. Are you hunting those things?"
"You knew?" The Sheriff smiled softly.
"Of course I knew. Claudia and I both knew. Who do you think patched John up all those times?" He scrubbed a hand over his face. "And now you boys are doing the same thing, and apparently my own son is involved too. God, I really hate this town," he murmured. Stiles stepped forward to touch his shoulder, only to jump back as the Sheriff swung his hand around to point at Peter. "Don't I know you?" Stiles went stiff. Peter, meanwhile, merely smirked and strode forward.
"Peter Padackle, werewolf hunter extraordinaire," he said with a little bow. Stiles fought the urge to snort. Sam scrunched up his face.
"Peter Padackle? That's a fake name. Why are we supposed to believe you anyways?" Peter's smile hardened into a grimace.
"Because I just saved Stiles' life," he growled. Dean seemed to take that as his cue to begin questioning Stiles.
"Aside from creepy monster man, how did you know the silver wouldn't work? Why didn't it work?" he inquired.
"Because silver is a myth. Wolfsbane is one of the few things that will really stop one," Peter cut in. Dean glared at him.
"Exactly. It's something you definitely need to have, especially when there's a strange pack slinking around town," Stiles said. "Which I'm guessing is your fault, isn't it Peter?" The werewolf grinned, all teeth.
"Clever boy."
"God, can you not be so creepy all the time? Stop that. Seriously, stop it."
"Okay! Can we please just get some sleep. That thing's not coming back right?" The Sheriff asked.
"No. She'll die. They'll hang back for a while, form a plan." Stiles responded. His father side-eyed him.
"And tomorrow morning we will discuss why you know that," he said. Stiles hung his head.
"Right."
"You got a place to stay, Pete?" Dean asked.
"I've got a pack of vengeful werewolves on my heels. Do you think I have a place to stay?" Peter bit out.
"Mr. Padacackie is staying on the couch," the Sheriff said. He squinted at him. "And if you try anything, I will kill you faster than that wolf would have."
"It's Padackle, and I prefer Peter."
"Whatever," Dean said.
"Let's just get to bed. Sam can stay with Dean or one of them can sleep in my room. Peter, there is a large collection of guns upstairs. Behave," Stiles ordered. Peter smirked.
