Chapter Text
As Dean pulled out the still ringing phone from its place inside the glove compartment of the Impala and first got a good look at which one of their many phones was actually ringing, his eyes narrowed. Body subconsciously tensing in trepidation, Dean showed Sam what his fingers had fished out of their collection. Of course, as soon as the younger Winchester caught a look at it, his posture shifted to mirror Dean’s. The object itself looked entirely unremarkable. They recognized it immediately nonetheless, for it was such a rare event for it to actually ring since its previous owner died.
“Isn’t that Dad’s phone?” Sam’s voice was tinged with the same unease that churned in Dean’s gut the moment he held it in his hand.
John Winchester would only hand out this personal number to a very small group of people. Mostly hunters who had earned his grudging respect and tentative trust, and his sons. It was never a good sign if someone was trying to contact them on this phone instead of one of the brothers’ own.
Dean nodded and took a calming breath. His instincts told him whatever was going to happen next would shake them up. A hunter’s instincts were seldom wrong.
“Hello?”
“Hello, John. It’s Noah.” a man’s voice answered. Sam had leaned in to listen in as well.
Noah, whoever he was, sounded stressed and ever so slightly angry. Always a good combination, but not an unexpected one when dealing with people who knew John Winchester. As talented a hunter he was, capable of maintaining friendly relationships he was certainly not. Dean had never heard of a Noah before, so he could only hope this conversation would stay civil. The complication of informing yet another stranger of his father’s death two years ago added to his discomfort. He would stall, at least until Noah told him what he wanted.
“He can’t come to the phone. I’m his son, Dean. Can I help you?”, he asked, polite but firm.
“Oh…”, the man’s tone changed to hesitant and worried at the unexpected introduction, “Is John okay?”
He appeared to recognize Dean’s name and his question revealed his knowledge of John’s actual chosen profession. A hunter, obviously, Dean concluded. A recluse though. Gritting his teeth, Dean decided to bite the metaphorical bullet and speak bluntly.
“I’m sorry to break this to you, but John died two years ago.”
He tried to keep his tone neutral, flippant even. Sammy frowned regardless, letting him know that he didn’t quite succeed. A sharp inhale followed his words, and the other end of the line went silent for a few seconds.
“I’m very sorry to hear that, thank you for telling me.”, he sounded genuinely compassionate, the previous anger had all but evaporated.
Noah managed to convey his condolences without the usual fatalism that colored a hunter’s perspective on life and death in those conversations. He acknowledged Dean’s grief and empathized with it. Dean wondered who the other man had lost. In their business, it was very common, almost a given, to have lost a loved one to the monsters lurking in the shadowed corners of their world.
“Well, anyways, why did you try to reach him?”, he got back on topic.
“There is…I have a situation here in Beacon Hills.”, Noah started cautiously.
“Involving something a little outside of the local law enforcement’s expertise?”
“Yes, I believe so.” The other was clearly relieved that Dean knew what his father’s job had been and wasted no more time to explain. “Back when I met your father, I was a deputy, now I’m a sheriff. The case I have on my desk right now shares far too many similarities with the one John and I worked on about eighteen years ago.”
A hunter in law enforcement. Dean shared a raised eyebrow with his brother. A rarity and a huge advantage to have on their side. Although, there must be a reason why John hadn’t uttered the Sheriff’s name in his children’s presence even once in eighteen years.
“Bodies were going missing and I helped John without knowing exactly what we were dealing with. I had no idea about the supernatural when we first met, but I thought he had solved the case because there were no further incidents after he left town.”
So, he wasn’t a hunter back then, but he had somehow found out about the supernatural since then. Was John the one who educated the Sheriff on their world of monsters after he found out? It would explain them being on a first name basis. Dean blinked. He hadn’t gotten Noah’s last name yet. And how did the man have his dad’s number in the first place if the other hadn’t been a hunter during his stay in his town?
“For the last couple of weeks, however, it started again.”, Noah continued, “It was corpses in the beginning, but during the last few days, the perpetrator’s M.O. changed. He escalated. Two people have disappeared, and they both worked with us the first time.” Grief colored his voice. He had known those people. That didn’t sound good at all, Noah himself might be in danger.
“You’re sure they got taken by the same thing as the corpses?”
“Yes, I am. I’ll send you the files if you want to know the details.”, Noah reaffirmed.
The Winchesters locked eyes for a second, conferring silently and reaching their decision in unison.
“Okay, where is Bacon Hills? My brother and I are comin’ over. I’m gonna send you an e-mail address too, for the files.”
“Beacon Hills.”, the Sheriff corrected, chuckling at his food related pun. He started to like the guy. “It’s in Beacon County, in northern California.”
“We’ll need a few days to drive there, we’re somewhere in Iowa right now.”
“That’s quite far, you sure?”
“Yeah, it’s our job, the family business.”
The conversation tapered off, leaving Dean with the impression that their talk was over, until the other man’s voice cut him off before he could hang up.
“Family business…” Noah’s breath hitched, “Dean, listen, there is something I need to tell you and your brother – what’s his name? Your father told me once, but it’s been too long.”
Sam and Dean stiffened at the nervous inflection in the Sheriff’s voice. That sounded slightly suspicious. Their instincts had warned them after all. Should they give him Sam’s name as well? Dean had a feeling about Noah. His gut was telling him the guy wasn’t untrustworthy. The Winchesters’ inner alarm bells weren’t warning them about him, but something else. After a quick glance at Sam, who nodded curtly, Dean went along with the conversation’s shift into a more personal direction.
“Yeah, we’re listening. It’s Sam, by the way. What’s yours, Noah?”, he added, remembering they only knew his first name as well.
“All right, Dean and Sam. I’m Noah Stilinski, but you can keep calling me Noah.”
“Okay, Noah it is.”, Dean smiled.
A sort, awkward pause, then “It’s about my wife, Claudia. She, ah…she was a hunter – “ She was. Hunters didn’t exactly retire with old age. There it was, the reason why Noah knew about them, it would have been nice to hear a different origin story for once. “ – and only settled down here in Beacon Hills shortly after this hunt with John. We were all working together and she, uh…”
Dean’s unease grew as Noah stuttered and rambled on, talking around what he actually wanted to say, so he prodded “Yeah?”
“She had…slept with John before he left, and we became a couple a few months later.”
Was he trying to tell them that their father slept with someone other than their own mother? That wasn’t exactly a secret, they hadn’t exactly expected the man to swear an oath of celibacy after her death, that would have been unreasonable. Dean was about to reassure the Sheriff that the brothers could pretend John’s short relationship with his dead wife had never happened. In fact, he would be happy to do so. There was a small possibility of the Sheriff not knowing their mother had already been dead by the time John’s hunt in Beacon Hills took place and he was trying to find a tactful way of informing them about his unfaithfulness. However, Noah wasn’t done with his revelation, and the next line caught them both completely off guard.
“By then, she was, ah…already pregnant.”
All breath left his body in a shocked exhale. Feeling like he had just taken a punch to the gut, Dean’s mind was left reeling with the implications of Noah’s statement, and seeing Sam’s wide eyes staring at the phone in utter disbelief, Dean knew his brother felt the same. Their attention turned back to their caller and Dean flatly formulated the one thought cycling in both their heads out loud.
“What.”
__________
“Dean, look, best I can tell, Mieczysław ‘Stiles’ Stilinski is real. Seventeen years old, born on the 8th of April 1994 to Claudia Stilinski here at Beacon Memorial Hospital. No biological father listed, but Noah is his father by law. He’s actually the sheriff of this town, got reelected recently. Stiles is a bit of a troublemaker with ADHD, but he steadily maintains a near perfect GPA. He plays Lacrosse. And he was involved in a lot of those incidents over the last few years I told you about when I was researching the town.”
Sam climbed out of the Impala, relieved they finally made it to their destination after over 24 hours on the road, and he didn’t have to endure Dean’s passive aggressive driving anymore. They were parked in front of a well-kept middle-class home in the middle of Beacon Hills. It wasn’t far from the police station and the school, the perfect location for a sheriff and his teenaged son.
“Mis-chis- what?”, Dean huffed, sounding almost offended by his inability to pronounce the kid’s name when Sam had let it roll off his tongue in such an easy, offhanded manner. The same way Dean had radiated asperity for the last few hours. Needless to say, it had been a terrible car-ride.
“God, who names their kid that? It’s just cruel, and ‘Stiles’ is not much better. Stiles Stilinski, seriously…”, he muttered, rummaging around in their trunk for weapons. Then he asked, “What kind of trouble are we talkin’ about? How exactly was he involved?”
“Well, it’s a Polish name.”, Sam shrugged, trying to calm his brother down a little before they went to knock on the kid’s front door. At this level, Dean would end up taking his sourness out on the wrong person and ruin any possibility of a friendly relationship with their possible half-brother.
“And nothing serious. He just appeared at a lot of crime scenes with his friends. The local newspaper mentions him a few times as witness or victim. Another kid his age filed a restraining order against him once after Stiles and his friend kidnapped him, but got it lifted again relatively fast, on the grounds that it was just a misunderstanding. The Sheriff got suspended for a while though. Stiles also went missing for two days a few weeks ago.”
Dean slammed his car door shut and met his brother’s eyes over the roof of his Baby, quirking an eyebrow. “So, he’s been behaving suspiciously for a while?”
“Nah, I think he’s just being a nosey teenager, looking for a bit of excitement.”, he shook his head.
“Like this town needs any more of that.”, his brother mumbled.
Well, he was right, the amount of people that died of strange and unknown causes in the last year alone was exorbitantly high. Somehow, the town managed to stay under the radar from more hunters besides the Argents as well as the higher authorities. Only recently had the FBI gotten involved. Dean was right, it was suspicious, and Stiles was in the middle of it.
His brother was going to try his best at proving Stiles to be anything but their half-brother. The truth was more disquieting than believing this hunt to be a trap. Noah Stilinski might have come off as a good man over the phone, but the second he mentioned his son, the brothers disposition leaned more towards cautious. Sam reluctantly admitted that it was likely that some fling of John’s lead to an unknown third Winchester sibling, but he would still be on guard.
Dean, however, didn’t even want to consider the possibility. It was easier to believe a monster or demon was setting an elaborate trap than facing such a deeply emotional issue as well as the problem of protecting a kid from the dangers a connection to the Winchesters might bring to his doorstep. Especially now, when the seals to Lucifers cage were being broken faster than they could figure out which ones they needed to protect. They were essentially being given the run-around. The Apocalypse had already been set in motion with little hope of stopping it, and any civilian with a relation to them was a potential target.
Sam shoved those thoughts aside and confidently set the pace as he walked up to the patio and rang the bell whilst Dean was busying himself with a final weapon’s check. Shuffling through his pockets, he felt the familiar weight of their demon-killing knife, a smaller silver knife, the smooth metal of his flask filled with holy water, his handgun with extra ammunition of different kinds, and lastly, a packet of salt. He was as prepared as he could be without unduly alarming the neighbors.
Backs subconsciously straightening at the sound of footsteps nearing the door, the brothers held their breath until it swung open to reveal a brown-haired boy with large, whiskey colored eyes and moles dotting his cheek. Sam noted with some amusement that he was wearing plaid, which was such a Winchester style of dressing. Then, on second glance, other details about Stiles’ appearance caught his trained eye. The waxy paleness of his skin, the weary, suspicious gaze he mustered them with, far too old for his age. His messy hair and the many layers of his clothing, too warm for even the North-Californian winter weather. Lastly, the deep purple bags under his eyes that looked like they were close to developing sentience of their own. In short, he looked worn out.
“Hello, can I help you?”, he ripped the brothers out of their silent inspection. His voice sounded so young and yet, there was an edge hidden behind the polite smile and greeting.
Sam caught himself and instinct took over from the many times they had needed to gain entrance into someone’s home for their hunt. “Hello, I’m Sam Winchester, and this is my brother, Dean.”, he gestured between the two of them. “Your father Noah called us a few days ago. Did he tell you we were coming?”
He kept the introduction simple and left out the reason for their presence, not knowing what Noah had told his son about them. At least some of the distrust seemed to drain away with his words. Curiously enough, not all of it. Although, he was a cop’s son, and all the recent killing sprees would set anyone on edge. If anything, Sam should commend Stiles for his paranoia since it could very well save his life one day.
“Oh, yeah, he did. I’m Stiles.”, he nodded at both of them, hesitating to step aside and letting them into his house, but clearly curious. He didn’t know who they were to him.
“Nice to meet ya, kid.”, Dean smiled thinly.
Sam could see the change in Stiles’ posture immediately. Dean’s behavior was insincere, and Stiles had picked up on that fact. This guarded, closed off expression shouldn’t look so at home on someone his age. Shit, there went their chance at a good start.
“Yeah, same.”, Stiles answering smile was just as amiable as the one he first greeted them with, and his tone didn’t waver the slightest. “Look, my dad’s not home right now. He’s at work until approximately eight in the evening. You can visit him at the station if you want to, though. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”
He was trying to get rid of them by sending them where they would actually want to go if they were here for his father. Not a bad tactic, especially since there would be an entire station of cops around to stop them if they weren’t who they said they were. His mimic was slightly changing now, it sent Sam’s neck tingling. Eyes widening into an earnest, open, far too innocent look, Stiles continued to talk, and talk. And then talk some more. While exuding far too much energy for any sane person to possess at any time of the day.
“In fact, he works far too much and needs a pause sometimes. He forgets to eat too, always thinking about the job first, that’s him. You know, as the sheriff, he thinks the whole county is his responsibility, it’s ridiculous. Like, he has deputies to help him and share his workload!”, his arms flailed in mock frustration.
“Uhm, kid – “, Dean tried to butt in valiantly, and failed.
Stiles was simply bulldozing over him, not even trying to hide the fact, but enjoying their obvious shared discomfort. Mischief was what he couldn’t identify earlier, he had it in him. Their newest brother was a little shit, Sam thought, privately amused that the trait apparently did run the family.
“So, getting him out of his office for what’s probably the first time on this double shift would be an amazing feat I would commend you for. Best you take him to that little diner called Claire’s two blocks from the station. He’ll tell you where it is. We often go there during weekends. I recommend their food, it’s great!”
Stiles was barely taking a breath through that rant. Sweet Jesus, the kid could talk. He was taking back what he thought about him earlier, this was genuinely horrifying. Sam wanted to simultaneously pat him on the head for his outstanding performance and strangle the kid into silence. He was trying to talk them to death, or at least until they literally ran away, playing up his rambling and ADHD tendencies to put them up around him like a smoke screen. His own way of warding off people, and it worked. Sam couldn’t get a word in edgewise. He traded a glance with his brother, who seemed as taken aback by the sudden onslaught as he felt.
“Make sure he eats healthy, yeah? He doesn’t need to risk a heart-attack when his job is already dangerous enough. No burger for him, except of the veggie variety, thank you. It was nice meeting you, Misters Winchester.” and with those abrupt final words, Stiles waved cheekily, stepped back, and pretty much slammed the door in their faces before they had the time to realize he was done with their chat.
They were left standing on the doorstep staring at the offending piece of wood, like two unwanted stray cats, or parcels ordered and not picked up. The hunters didn’t get the chance to test him either. However, Dean’s expression soon changed from mildly annoyed to one of indignant anger. Intervention was necessary, going by the progressive reddening of his brother’s face. He didn’t want him to cause a scene. Sam shook his head in defeat and took his brother by the elbow to steer him back to their car.
Great, what a disaster.
__________
Noah was, as Stiles had predicted, holed up inside his office behind mountains of files, pictures, and reports. Most of them were old cases, like Malia’s, he suspected of having ties to the supernatural. Some of them had already been scanned by his son, under his grudging supervision. He had to admit that Stiles was exceptional at police work and had an excellent eye for details. Stiles made connections and looked into directions he would never even think to consider. He had a talent to look at the facts and keep an open mind, to gather all the facts before forming his theories; and no matter how unlikely they might sound, he worked on each of them with equal dedication until they were proven or disproven. It had become Stiles’ side job of a sort since school would be over in a week. One Noah wasn’t too fond of, but couldn’t disapprove of either, seeing how his son not only helped other people by solving those cold cases, but also himself.
To be honest, Noah had been worried in the direct aftermath of Stiles’ possession. The way he was coping the first week after he had…escaped from the Nogitsune – that was to say, he wasn’t dealing with it at all, or anything outside his own bedroom if he didn’t absolutely have to – had the Sheriff fearing for his son’s life in an entirely new way he hadn’t at all been prepared for.
He had learned how to restrain himself from bundling Stiles and his friends up and stashing them safely inside his house while he dealt with whatever wanted to hurt them. With his gun and lots of wolfsbane. He had learned to trust those children to fight a guerilla war to protect this town he was supposed to be the sheriff of and support them in any way he could whilst staying out of their way. The helplessness he felt when handing dangerous situations off for children who were better equipped to fight the supernatural, including own son, to handle, was neigh overwhelming. A simple truth he had to acknowledge was his own reduced adaptability compared to the younger generation as well as those who were raised as warriors in this shadowed fight. Not only was he out of the loop until the youths deigned to tell him about their most recent exploits, but also hindering him from intervening was his own struggle to broaden his horizon and take leaps in logic that took him beyond the human spectrum of possibility. As much as he defended the necessity of human law, his position did at times effectively block the children from seeking his help. Chris Argent had, after a serious discussion about the law, morals and justice in his town, helped him cope by gifting him with a translated copy of the Argent’s Monster Book of Monsters – it’s called a beastiary, Dad! – and some of his special ammunition. He would be prepared to support their supernatural militia better in their coming struggles.
Noah had also learned years ago after a terrible, grueling period of grieving for Claudia the wrong way by getting lost in the bottle for far too long, all but forgetting about his child, how to take care of his remaining family’s emotional needs and mental health. The panic attacks, his irrational guilt over his mother’s death, and the consequences of his own unwitting neglect.
At least, he had thought he knew how to deal with Stiles’ bad days. Now though, there had been bad days, and worse days, with hardly any improvement in sight. Until Noah had caught him looking into his case files again. Two weeks ago, he would have been angry, but mostly resigned at the sight. However, all he had been able to feel then was relief. His son was showing interest in something again. A whisp of his former personality was returning to the ghostly figure of his son. How could Noah do anything but nurture it? Anything would be an improvement from his state in that first week.
Moreover, in the process of puzzling out the crimes, Stiles and Noah both learned a lot about the supernatural in order to spin their theories. In the last week, the number of very bad days had decreased and there was a day he could hesitantly call a good one as well, where Stiles had hung out with Lydia in the mall after school. Noah was grateful for his son’s compassionate group of friends, his Pack. The most amazing changes came when they were there, Stiles felt their compassion and in turn helped them to cope with the recent deaths. It couldn’t work every day, but they were making progress.
Yesterday had been a bad day. Though his son had barely managed to find the energy to move around, he wasn’t feeling up to going outside or paying attention at school. Reluctantly, Noah had left him at home with a promise of not going back to bed during the day and trying to catch some sleep at night. Nightmares stole most of it away. Malia helped with them sometimes, sneaking into his son’s room at night to sleep in his bed. Normally, his parental instinct would be going haywire, chanting NO! But sleeping was really all they were doing, and the girl was good at calming Stiles down after a nightmare. Helping her fit in with human society was also aiding Stiles in forgetting about his own problems for a bit, just like Noah’s casefiles.
Noah hoped that his sleeping problems were mostly the reason for his uncharacteristic lethargy. Even with his medication Stiles would always be in motion. Bouncing his knee, tapping his fingers, shifting and playing with something in his hands. He was still moving, but the rhythm had changed. It was disconcerting and he felt as if an integral part of Stiles’ body language had suddenly switched to something he couldn’t yet understand. As a police officer, he struggled to adjust to this new state. Flashbacks proved his son’s trauma might have progressed into PTSD, and the father feared he might be skirting on the edges of depression as well. Anxiety was a definite yes, though he’d had it since his mother died. Of course, being a child soldier would do that to someone. Taking medication for those was difficult with Adderall in the mix. Noah gritted his teeth. Why was he allowing those kids to put themselves into danger so readily? Was he failing as a father again? Stiles’ state seemed to prove his self-recriminating questions to be true. He just hoped that by trying to protect the Pack, he hadn’t invited even more trouble into town.
With a heaving sigh, he snapped the file he was currently scanning shut. Rubbing his hand over his eyes, he tried to refocus, as he had done for hours. His thoughts simply wandered back to Stiles in a never-ending cycle of worry, and his efforts to think about anything else for more than ten minutes at a time were futile and slowly verging on desperate. He hated himself for needing a distraction from the palpable cloud of misery surrounding his home. Yet, he knew he couldn’t support Stiles if he was driving himself insane by staying at home with him. Stiles wouldn’t let him either way. He also had his position as the sheriff to fill. Taking too many days off was impossible, he had to make up for the last two weeks of irregular absences already by working double shifts when possible.
Noah’s gaze drifted through the window of his office. Jordan Parrish, his newest deputy, who was being shown the ropes by Deputy Kayne, had just brought a box of pastries from the Golden Bun. Their patrol through the city earlier had completely coincidentally taken them right by the bakery on the upper end of town that was famous amongst the population of Beacon Hills. Of course, the older man had imparted Parrish with the secret of its location only for a small bribe. Their confections were the downfall of any honest cop in this town and the next. He hoped he wouldn’t have to investigate them in the future because there was witchcraft involved in making them so addictive. Noah wouldn’t put it past this town to ruin one of the last good things he could eat – without being chewed out for violating his dietary rules by Stiles – in the most insane manner possible. The thought managed to lift the corners of his mouth a little. Progress.
A file on the left side of his desk caught his eye. It brought back memories of a case he had worked on almost eighteen years ago. One he now knew must have been connected to the supernatural. Leafing through the beastiary had yielded no results and Stiles admitted there were far too many creatures that could fit the pattern, and he couldn’t narrow it down or find nearly enough credible lore on some of their options.
He had called Argent first, to no avail. The hunter had left for France a few days prior and couldn’t come back for a few weeks yet. Argent had to settle Isaac in and meet with the other branches of his family to report Gerhard’s and Kate’s crimes. There was also a hunt in France he was called in on to provide his expertise and skills. Argent had told him to call the hunter that had worked on the case the last time. He had heard of the name Winchester and his reaction had been suitably impressed.
It was difficult to impress a seasoned hunter like Argent, so Noah had taken his advice, carefully asking the Pack if they agreed. Not for permission per se, he was still the sheriff, but they had every reason to be weary and object to the presence of a new hunter in town, given prior experiences. They were the ones in danger if John found out about the local pack and didn’t abide by the code. The fact that there were two unknown hunters now instead of one Noah could vouch for complicated matters. Okay, so he did ask for permission. From his own son. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. He may be the sheriff, yet he didn’t have a standing in their world. He wasn’t surprised they disagreed at first, inviting new hunters to Beacon Hills was extremely risky. Only after the second death, they reluctantly agreed that they couldn’t handle a new threat right away when they were still left reeling from the fallout of the last. They would keep to the background and observe, if possible.
He himself had been strangely indifferent about the idea of calling Stiles’ biological father to return to Beacon Hills. Nothing would hold the man here, he was sure of it, not even a son. He also wouldn’t drag Stiles into his life, that was for sure. The only times when Noah had called John’s number in the past was to inform him about Stiles, Claudia’s death, and the occasional update on his son. John had continuously stayed away, saying Stiles already had a father and a stable home, he didn’t need him to barge in and insert himself into their happy family. Claudia had always agreed without protest. Noah had found it a little strange but didn’t really mind not having to share his son. It made a lot more sense now, looking back on their decision.
Noah knew his kid would never abandon his friends either. The hunter seemed decent enough not to drag an unwilling child along in his hunts. Winchester’s other sons Dean and Sam had already been adults the way John spoke about them. They hadn’t been able to join him on this hunt back then, so Noah had hoped he would bring them along this time. Noah had planned to inform Stiles about John being his biological father with the man himself present, as well as his half-brothers.
His boy had known that he wasn’t Noah’s son by birth for years now and it had never bothered him. To him, Noah choosing to become his father and keeping him even during difficult times had only been more proof that Stiles’ dad loved him. He had never asked about his other father, content with the one he already had. A rare occurrence since Stiles normally questioned everything. And now, he would never get the chance to meet him. Despite never really being a part of their lives, John Winchester had been a known constant somewhere in the background. Noah didn’t often think about him, but he had been ready to answer some of Stiles’ questions and arrange a meeting should the need arise.
It felt strange to hear about the man’s death two years after it happened from the sons he had never met. He felt for them, it was terrible to lose a loved one and being reminded of your grief by a stranger. John had never told his boys about Stiles. How betrayed they must feel, Noah mused. He hadn’t expected to be the one to air this secret like dirty laundry. To be honest, he hadn’t told Stiles about his half-brothers either, but it shouldn’t have been his responsibility to tell them about Stiles’ existence.
It was close to five o’clock now, John’s sons should be arriving soon. Hopefully, they would come to the station first. He didn’t want them alone in his house with Stiles. He didn’t think they would harm the kid in any way, but they were hunters and Stiles would be distrustful and would probably try to interrogate them or make them severely uncomfortable.
As a normal human, Stiles should have nothing to fear from hunters, but he was part of a werewolf pack. Some hunters had taken offense to this fact in the past, and his son certainly hadn’t forgotten. He and Noah both knew on which side they would stand if the Winchesters found out about the Pack and their connections to them. Blood relations aside, the Pack was part of Stiles’ family. Introducing the Winchesters to Stiles as his half-brothers would change nothing in that regard. He would have to be careful with the introduction, Stiles didn’t need even more stress right now. They had only been invited to deal with the threat in order to take some of the weight off the kid’s shoulders, after all. The last thing the Pack needed was another catastrophe so soon after the last. They needed to concentrate on getting better, on school and relationships and normal teenage drama.
Speaking of drama, his guests had arrived. Two men entered the station, clearly looking for someone. One was exceptionally tall with longer brown hair and the second had shorter, slightly lighter colored hair and a face that wouldn’t look out of place on a magazine cover for adolescents. Both of them were wearing plaid shirts that reminded him of Stiles far too much. Now he knew where his kid got his fashion sense from. They approached the front desk and left Noah’s field of vision.
Quickly he stood up and went out of his office to greet them properly. It wouldn’t do to make a bad first impression. He studiously ignored the relieved looks his deputies were throwing him for finally leaving his office and walked up to the brothers.
“Yes, he knows, we have an appointment.”, the taller one was saying. His voice was deeper than Dean’s, so he must be Sam, the younger one.
“All right, I will ask – “ Deputy Miller started, before seeing her boss arrive at her desk.
“Thank you, Deputy. I will take those two to my office.”, he nodded reassuringly at her.
“Of course, Sheriff.”, she answered dutifully.
The petite blonde woman had a core of steel and would defend their station like a dragon if it came down to it. She hadn’t been on duty when almost the entire force was slaughtered by Matt and survived the Nogitsune attack as well. Their little station had felt so much loss in the last year that it was no wonder the remaining force had banded together all the more tightly, growing fiercely protective of their comrades, old and new alike. He forced his thoughts back on track and turned around, holding out his hands for the brothers to shake.
“Noah Stilinski, good to meet you.”
Sam took the offered hand first and answered “You as well, Sheriff. I’m Sam.”
He had a firm handshake and an easygoing smile. The puppy eyes reminded him of Scott, but the professionalism he exuded was more similar to Argent.
“Dean. It’s a pleasure.”, Dean smiled as he repeated the gesture, though it felt somehow more forced. He wasn’t offended.
“Well then, let’s go to my office then. Do you want some coffee?”
“Oh, thank you. Your son said we should ask if you want to go to a diner instead. He was very insistent we get you out of your office, in fact.” Sam laughed.
Dean threw his brother a look the Sheriff couldn’t decipher, something close to incredulity. Noah repressed a sigh. The brothers had gone to his house first. He could imagine how this conversation with Stiles had gone when he watched Dean’s face contort into a scowl.
“I could use a break.”, he gave in, “We can go to Claire’s. It’s not far from here and the food is good.”
For some reason Sam snorted at his suggestion, but agreed nonetheless, “Sure, you need to get something form your office?”
“No, I’ve got everything with me.”, he turned around, “Miller, I’ll be gone for at least an hour.”
“We’ll man the fort for you, Sheriff.”, the woman grinned, “Don’t come back any sooner!”
“I’m the sheriff here…”, he grumbled, smiling all the same at the proof that his officers cared for him.
“Let’s go.”
___________
Despite its borderline sadistic way of delivery, the suggestion of stopping by the sheriff’s station first was a good one. Sam was glad his brother had calmed down on the way to the station and was now mulling over what information they had gathered from meeting Stiles. They discussed their first impressions and concluded that something must have happened to the kid not too long ago. Considering the astonishing amount of gruesome, suspicious deaths over the last year and a half, they would have their work cut out for them if they wanted to shed light onto all these incidents. Research was a favorite pastime of Sam’s. However, this seemingly quiet small town looked more and more like the Bermuda Triangle of weirdness, it would take a lot of time to investigate every single strange occurrence. Sam would be busy for weeks, if not longer, should they not find someone who knew what went down here.
With this in mind, they hoped to gather more information not just on their present case from the Sheriff. Subtle inquiries couldn’t hurt, Noah would understand they were just doing their job. The man held himself like a hunter and didn’t object to their tests. During their time studying the menu of the twice recommended Diner, they found out why that was the case. Noah had apparently once served in the Army, like their own father had been part of the Navy. Some of his mannerisms were eerily similar to John’s.
All those ‘animal attacks’ the papers screamed about were actually part of a very long story he couldn’t really tell in public without anyone overhearing them getting convinced their sheriff needed to be admitted to Eichen House – the local psychiatric hospital. Though the name asylum would be more appropriate here.
“Fitting for such a creepy town.”, Dean muttered, staring intently at the menu in order to concentrate on something besides the horrible vibes he was getting just hearing about this place.
At least the diner had a really extensive and delicious sounding assortment of dishes. The atmosphere was cozy and warm, a direct contrast to their topics of conversation. Dean kind of regretted opening his mouth. Noah wasn’t shy to share his opinion on the matter at all.
“Well, I wish I could tear the whole building down already, but that’s outside my power. Their practices are shady at best, and the way they treat patients is atrocious. Criminal even, but there is no evidence besides questionable first-hand accounts, and only against single staff members, not systemic long-term abuse.”
How would the man know so much about the inner workings of the facility then? Maybe he would ask later. The waiter, probably a college student, had arrived to take their orders.
“Hello, welcome to Claire’s. Sheriff Stilinski, nice to see you again!”
Noah chuckled. “David, I hope you’re doing well? Did you get your car repaired?”
“Yeah, the tail-lights are in working order again. Thanks for letting me off that one time, Sheriff.”
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it, son.”
Noah seemed to have a decent relationship with everyone in this town they had met until now. The other patrons of the diner had smiled at him as well when he entered. It seemed that despite the recent killings, the people saw his dedication and hard work in keeping them safe. He paid attention and took his time getting to know them personally.
“So, may I collect your orders?”
Dean nodded, finally settling on a sandwich that made his mouth water at the description. Sam chose a curry dish and Noah decided on a burger. All three of them ordered a beer to go with their meals.
“Don’t tell my son!”, he winked.
David snorted and shook his head. “He doesn’t pay me, Sir.”
Noah laughed and Sam had to grin as well, remembering Stiles’ instructions at his door. He certainly wouldn’t tell on the man either. As soon as David left to the kitchen, Noah got down to business again.
“Well boys, we can discuss solved cases after we finish the current one, sounds fair?”
Sam and Dean nodded, accepting the prioritization. However, it didn’t escape their notice that the Sheriff seemed to be doing his best to avoid touching upon past problems right now. Talking about classified information on an active case with them could get him in far more trouble after all, and he was ready to do so in public.
“All right, so here’s what we know…”, the Sheriff started laying out his investigations, past and present, that lead him to calling them. It took him over half an hour talking over food and drink to fill them in on the details.
The facts were the following:
In the summer of 1994, the three younger deputies Noah, Barton and Singh were sent to investigate a grave robbery at the local cemetery. They blamed it on random vandalism after finding no leads. Three days later, the next body went missing, then the next and so on. No matter how many patrols they posted around the cemetery, they never saw anyone committing the grave desecration. The corpses simply vanished right under their noses. The story went public, and a few days later, the count of missing bodies hitting eleven, a man by the name of John Winchester came to town. A day later, Claudia arrived as well, and they both went to the cemetery on the same day. The deputies on patrol noticed their suspicious behavior and questioned them, one of them being Noah. A truly romantic place for a first meeting between the two men and the future mother of their child.
Claudia had been a wildfire back then. Smart and skilled as she was, she talked their way out of trouble immediately. She introduced them as private investigators, and much flirting ensured the other deputies wouldn’t look too closely. Bodies continued going missing for a while, John managed to convince Singh to give them more details and was seen climbing into the empty graves a few times together with Claudia. Noah and the other two deputies soon joined them. They discovered the tunnels leading to the graves, which lead into an elaborate system underneath the cemetery, before joining with the sewer system. The three policemen soon called in their discovery. Sheriff Eames called someone in to test the structural integrity of the tunnels, not wanting to risk a cave in beneath the cemetery. The entire area was crawling with people and yet, the thing still kept on stealing bodies.
John and Claudia asked Noah to give them a small window to continue with their investigation undisturbed. Somehow, they managed to convince him he wouldn’t regret it. He stood waiting for them at the gate, whilst they disappeared into the tunnels that night. They came out dirty and slightly beaten up but smiling in victory. Until today, Noah had no idea what actually went down inside those tunnels, but the case was marked as solved and the count had been frozen at seventeen bodies. John told the three officers everything was taken care of and where exactly to find the bodies. He then asked them to take the credit. Barton did just that, and the tunnels were filled up. John left soon after. Claudia chose to stay, her knee had been more seriously injured than she thought in the heat of the moment, adrenaline aiding her in the fight. Originally, she only meant to stay long enough for her knee to heal. However, Noah and the child growing inside her shattered that plan. She couldn’t let either of them go.
Fast forward to one and a half weeks ago, a new grave had been desecrated. It was a family crypt. The only reason why the grave robbery had been noticed by the mourners was the broken stone plate on a casket. Noah had sent a new member of his force, Deputy Parrish, to investigate, who found embalming fluid inside the crypt. The bodies must have been opened. Three other graves had been robbed since then. Former Deputy Barton – who’d become a bartender – and Deputy Singh had come to his office not long after Parrish’s report to address their concern over the similarity this case shared with the one they had never truly solved in the past. They hadn’t really known John closer than in passing after all. For all they knew, the perpetrator could have simply stopped on his own. Noah had reassured them that he saw the connection as well and would dig out the old files again. Singh had disappeared without a trace two days after that on a patrol around the cemetery. The only evidence Noah found was a patch on disturbed earth near his deputy’s forgotten flashlight. Careful testing had revealed a tunnel.
The Sheriff hadn’t told the rest of the station what he had found for no human could have dug a tunnel like that so fast in order to hunt a man. He could see this case more clearly now than when he was a deputy fresh out of the army who didn’t believe in the supernatural. Noah listened to his instinct and avoided the hole. He was well aware of the danger. A wise choice, Dean appreciated the man’s common sense and caution. Soon-to-be-pensioner Barton had vanished from his own house three days ago. They only knew he had been abducted because the neighbor had heard his terrified screams. Whatever it was seemed to hunt down anyone involved with John’s investigation nearly eighteen years ago. It was capable of leaving the cemetery and move in broad daylight outside its tunnels.
“My wife and John are both dead, so are Warner and Singh, that leaves only myself. And I can’t risk leaving my son an orphan. This thing is smart. I have no idea how to fight it. Did John leave you any information about his previous hunts?”
God, how he wished his own father had cared even half as much about his sons as Noah did. The man hadn’t called them solely out of fear for himself, but rather for Stiles, and the brothers respected that.
“Yeah, he did. We have his old Hunter’s Journal. There’s a problem though. The entry on Beacon Hills is missing. The pages were ripped out.”, Sam confessed, pinching his nose.
Noah exhaled in disappointment. “Great, so we can start over again. Do you have any ideas what we’re dealing with? I researched, but there are far too many myths involving monsters that eat people, living and dead.”
Sam hummed and asked his brother, “Zombie?”
Dean shook his head. “Nah, not intelligent enough and the tunnels don’t fit.”
“Right. Rugarus prefer their meat fresh. Ghouls don’t usually bother with the living.”, Sam ticked the supernatural creatures off like he was reciting a shopping list. “Revenant? Pishtaco? Nachzehrer?”
“What, fish-taco?”, Dean made a face after the last two. “We need to research.”, he said resignedly. “Can you recommend a motel where we can do that in peace?”
Noah protested, “There is no need to pay for a motel, I have a nice guest room with a bed and a transformable couch.”
“You would let us stay with you? What about Stiles?”, Sam inquired, mildly surprised.
They hadn’t expected him to invite them into his home so easily. The wisdom of doing their research next to their curious half-brother was questionable.
“I would, although you need to tell me something first…Do you follow The Code?”
“Code?”, Dean asked, bewildered.
“Yes.” Noah’s expression hardened. “I haven’t known about the supernatural for long, but I have already met different sorts of creatures. Those who hurt others and those who live together with us peaceably. I cannot allow you to stay if you start harassing good people. It’s my duty to protect the people of this town from harm, whether they grow fangs and claws or not.”
The Winchesters’ eyebrows collectively rose higher with each sentence. Sheriff Stilinski knew of other monsters besides the creature they were hunting, and whatever it was must reside in Beacon Hills with his blessing. Something with fangs and claws. There were quite a lot of options. Living amongst the populace, protected from hunters by the town’s sheriff himself. What an interesting development. And what was The Code? The brothers could hear the capitalization.
“Oh! Don’t worry, Sheriff. We only hunt those who are a danger to humans and just try to keep an eye on the rest.”, Sam reassured him, somewhat caught off guard.
Dean agreed “We mostly go to towns were people are dying to stop what’s happening.”
“Mostly?”
“Cursed objects and hauntings are jobs for us too that don’t involve killing something, for example.”, Sam explained and remembered a case with a vampire coven that had changed their perspective drastically.
They must have said the right thing. A relieved sigh could be heard as the man’s expression softened once more. “Good to know you do follow the Code even if you didn’t know about it. Please remember to ask questions first if you see something unusual around here. As for Stiles, he knows.”
“Come again?” Dean sounded incredulous.
“He knows you are hunters and he’s the one who does the most research on the supernatural. He’s really good at it too. And puzzles, loves solving my cases, supernatural or not.”, Noah grumbled, before his demeanor changed to that of a very concerned father. “In the last year Stiles has been through so much. A lot of people he knew got hurt or died, and he had to do and witness things no child should. He had to grow up fast. A lot of our trouble here was caused by hunters in the first place, so he has reason to mistrust you. Please be patient and don’t be offended if he watches and questions you and generally comes off as rude.”
Sam winced, “We understand, Noah, we were a bit like him when we were kids. He looked quite tired when we met him earlier. If you actually want us to sleep at your house though, we need to test if he’s really himself.”
How had Stiles become involved in the first place? Why would hunters harm the kid enough to leave a lasting negative impression? Sam added this to his ever-growing list of questions about Beacon Hills. The father’s narrowed blue eyes mustered them for a few seconds. Long enough for Sam to contemplate the possibility of their brother being supernatural himself. Given Sam’s own experience as a psychic it wouldn’t be impossible to accept. John would have had a conniption at the mere idea of one of his sons being anything other than completely human. His musings seemed to be incorrect, however.
“Do what you must, but don’t say it like that. You’ll freak him out. Say you need to see if he’s supernatural or human.”
A strange request that send a tingle of unease down Sam’s spine. He shared a look with Dean. The implications weren’t lost on them. Could it be that Stiles had already encountered a creature capable of imitating him, or even stealing his body? Both were horrible scenarios the brothers had experience with curtesy of shapeshifters and demons. It would explain his haggard look. They shouldn’t come to conclusions based on this alone, Sam reminded himself.
“No problem, it’s just a precaution anyways.”
Noah nodded solemnly. “I get it, I really do.” And from his expression, he did. Something inside Sam twisted. “Prepare yourself for a lot of questions though. I’ll text him to let him know you’ll be coming and get him to prepare your room.”
“Thanks, Noah.”, Dean said earnestly. This was a great gesture of trust from the man. To let him inside his house, alone with his son.
He smiled and huffed, “I hope your second meeting goes smoother than the first.”
“Yeah.” Dean’s scowl had thankfully grown less pronounced over the course of their dinner.
The text was sent, and soon they waved David over for the check. After paying for their decently priced high-quality meal, they left for the station.
“So…when will you tell him we’re…you know?”, Sam stumbled over the words ‘half-brothers’.
“Today. When I come home, we’ll all have a conversation if that’s okay?”
The brothers gave their assent. They still had some time to prepare. It would be uncomfortable, but maybe they could bond a bit with Stiles in those few hours before they sprung this revelation on the kid. Fighting a common enemy united people. This unknown threat wasn’t welcome per say, but it could be good for something. Like learning more about the Winchester’s newest family member. At least, Sam hoped that was what they would achieve, instead of what happened last time. Dean was slightly more open now, and they knew not to push too much. They also had a common interest, that should count for something.
Dropping Noah off at the station, they made their way back to their Impala and drove once more to the Stilinski residence.