After pulling in to the White Pine Bay Police Department, Sam and Dean stepped out of the Impala and slammed the doors shut. Dean adjusted his suit, took a breath, glanced at Sam, and then led the way into the office.

Upon entering the lobby, the Winchesters encountered a bored-looking receptionist who didn't even look up from her iPhone when they walked up to the window.

Dean cleared his throat in attempt to get her attention. The receptionist merely grunted in response. "I'm Agent Tyler, this is Agent Perry. FBI." The girl finally looked up, slightly mortified, and the brothers flashed their fake badges.

"We'd like to speak to your sheriff," Sam said. As he spoke, a door in the back opened and a slim, dark-haired man stepped through. Seeing their badges, he froze. A look of mixed terror and worry flashed across his face almost instantaneously, and then he quickly squared his shoulders to regain his composure, assuming an air of obvious authority.

"What in the hell are you doing?" he asked the receptionist.

"I…" she fumbled.

"Let them in!" The girl pressed a button and a door on the brothers' left popped open. They went through and, after a brief glare at the distracted receptionist, met the dark-haired man in the back. He offered a hand to the "agents."

"I'm Sheriff Alex Romero," the man said as first Sam, and then Dean shook his hand. "What can I do for you fellas?"

"We're Agents Tyler and Perry, FBI," Dean said.

"If we may," Sam gestured toward the door he assumed led to Romero's office.

The sheriff nodded and opened the door. "Please," he said, motioning for them to go inside. The brothers sat down in the two chairs opposite the desk. Romero shut the door, and then took his seat.

"We're here on a…um…" Sam started.

"Routine check," Dean finished.

"That's right. Have you, um, noticed anything out of the ordinary lately?"

"Like?"

Sam looked to Dean, uncertain if the cocky sheriff was buying their story.

"Like," Dean took over, "I don't know, any unexplained deaths? Or an outbreak of anything abnormal, like, um, sulfur, for example?"

"No, I can't say that I have," Romero answered, glancing back and forth between the brothers, scrutinizing them.

"Nothing?" Dean asked again.

"I mean, there have been a couple of potential homicides, but it's nothing I can't handle." It was then that Sam noticed that it wasn't that the sheriff didn't buy his and Dean's story; it was that he knew something. He glanced over at his brother. Dean had picked up on it, too.

"No," Dean smiled, making one last effort to see if there was any chance at getting the stubborn sheriff to talk, "sulfur? Or anything?"

Romero pursed his lips and shook his head. "No."

Dean waited for a moment, nodding once, slowly. "I see. Well, thank you for your cooperation."

"That guy was not cooperating," Dean grumbled as soon as he and Sam were out of the police station.

"Well, what are we supposed to do about it?" Sam retorted.

"Figure it out on our own."

"As usual."

The brothers reached the Impala, took a breath, and climbed in.

"So, what now?" Sam asked.

"Back to the motel, I guess. Regroup, do some research."

Romero sighed and slumped back into his chair after the feds left, anxiously fiddling with a pen. They knew something. But how could two feds possibly know that demons were real? They certainly knew the signs. But Romero didn't fully believe it himself. He shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. There was definitely something going on in White Pine Bay; something more than usual. But he was the boss in this town, and he wasn't about to let anybody come into his town and tell him how to handle things. Especially not some feds. He slammed the pen down in frustration. He had to get to the bottom of this before it attracted any more attention.