Dean and Sam
8:32am, Motel in Beacon Hills
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Dean bolted up, his eyes wide, his heart pounding, his throat dry. He had his gun in his hand ready to fire, but he was pointing it at Castiel.

Castiel gave him a concerned look, "Are you ok, Dean?"

Dean lowered his gun, ran a hand over his face and took a breath. "Yeah, Cas I'm fine." Dean rested his gun on the nightstand and went into the bathroom. He took a long, hot shower, trying to get the images of hell out of his mind. The nightmares didn't happen much, but when they did it screwed him up.

After he came out of the shower he pulled on a green tee-shirt, a light jean jacket on top of it, a leather jacket on top of that, dark blue jeans and cowboy boots. He saw that Sam was still sleeping so he went out to get breakfast.

When he came back Sam was up and moving. Sam and Castiel both looked at him when he came in and Dean asked, "What?"

Sam looked disappointed but said, "Nothing. What did you get?"

"Well for myself, I got a bacon breakfast sandwich and for you I got eggs with peppers and spinach and a side of potatoes." Dean explained as he handed Sam his breakfast.

"Ok Cas, what are we doing here?" Dean asked, as he pulled out his breakfast sandwich and started to take a bite.

"Back in the day there was this pack of werewolves," Castiel started, "They threatened the lives of civilians on Earth. So hunters took actions against them, but they got too powerful and too strong. So one of my brothers got an order to go and kill them. Yet, when he got to the last pack they conceded and told him that they would not take another human life again. My brother decided to let them live. Yet, that promise seems to have been broken. So now they deserve to be punished."

"Ok, so we have to clean up another one of your brotherly disputes, great." Dean said.

"I do not ask you for much, but I'm asking you to help me in this. As I do not want to commit genocide, like my brother did." Castiel said.

"We will, Dean was just being a jerk." Sam explained.

Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam and said, "B***h." Then he took another bite of his sandwich.

Sam ignored him. "Who are we looking for?"

"I do not have a name, I only know the place, which is why I need your help." Castiel explained.

"Ok well, let's look up some news reports of who died and see if we can find any connections between who died and living relatives that seem suspicious." Sam said, taking a bite of his food before pulling his computer out of his backpack and setting himself up on the small table.

"Jerk." Sam threw at Dean with a sly smile before he started typing.

Dean smiled at him then finished his sandwich and started to look over John's journal.

2 hours later.

"Bingo!" Sam yelled.

At the exact same moment Dean yelled, "Yahtzee!"

They both looked at each other and Dean motioned for Sam to go first.

Sam got his excited look on his face then started, "There was a fire, called the Hale House Fire and it killed all but two of the family members. Now, Derek Hale who is one that survived the fire has been on the police radar for a while and has been a wanted fugitive for murder a little while ago, although his name got cleared. Yet, the people that have been dying are the people that were supposed to be helping put out the fire, like firefighters. Which are the ones who are dying."

Dean nodded then asked, "So you think this Derek guy is a werewolf?"

Sam shrugged, "Possibly."

"Well, Dad wrote the word, Hale, with a question mark next to it underneath the words werewolf. Also, if we find someone named Argent they will help us with finding and fighting them. These Argents seem to be cold hearted, but they tend to really know their stuff." Dean said.

Sam frowned then asked, "How could you possibly know that they are cold-hearted?"

"Because Dad wrote, cold-hearted but reliable d**ks next to their name." Dean said simply.

"Ok then. Well how about we take a look at Derek."

Dean shrugged then went to go get his FBI suit.

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The Pack
11:36am, Beacon Hills High School
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"SCOTT!" Stiles yelled though the hallway, during passing time.

Scott turned and saw his friend barreling down the hallway as fast as fricken roadrunner. Stiles stopped in front of him and did that unattractive mouth breathing thing before he stood up and was able to breathe normally again.

"Derek said two guys stopped by his house and we're fake FBI agents." Stiles said.

…

Derek looked to the door of his loft when there was knocking on the door. He stopped doing his morning workout, grabbed his shirt, threw it over his head and walked over to the sliding door. He slid it open and looked at the two men dressed in suits before him.

The guy who had a short cropped haircut, flashed his badge and said, "Hello, I am Agent Angus and this is my partner Agent Young. Are you Derek Hale?”

Derek noticed the heartbeat jump and scowled at them. Liars. “I’m not talking to FBI impersonators.” Then he slid the door closed in front of their faces.

Although, a second later the door slid open. Both of the agents entered.

“Hello?” Agent Angus said.

Derek growled at him then said, “You cannot break into my house, you have no right!”

Agent Young, who had a whole mane of hair going on, held up his hands in a surrender position and said, “We just want to talk, that’s all.”

“You’re not real agents so I don’t have too.” Derek said, trying very hard not to turn.

Agent Young said, “Do you want to talk to our supervisor?”

Derek scoffed, “Sure. Oh, no, because it will just be more lies.” Then his voice deepened and commanded them, “Now leave!”

Agent Young said, “Ok, as you wish.”

Then he grabbed Agent Angus’s arm and they walked out.

…

“Isn’t impersonating federal agents a crime?” Scott asked, shifting his backpack.

“Yep.” Stiles confirmed.

Scott could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he pondered the thought and looked everywhere but his eyes.

“Well, what did they ask him?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know.” Stiles shrugged, “You know how Derek gets with his territory.” 

Scott gave a knowing look then said, “I’ll look into it.”

“No, I got it, you have work. I’ll drop by after school.” Stiles said, playing with his hands.

Scott nodded then looked at the time, 11:39am. He was supposed to be in a class that was in the basement in a minute and he was on the second floor across the school from where it was. Damm it! Guess he was going to be late again. Was his last though before he ran off.

2:26pm, Beacon Hills Highschool.

Stiles was out like a bat in an open cage the moment the bell rang. For one this meant
school was out for the day and it meant possibly getting eaten by a werewolf in a short 20 minute drive. He liked to keep things interesting. He pulled out and drove the familiar route to Sourwolf’s loft.

Stiles barged in and yelled, “Derek!”

A moment later, Derek came around a corner with his claws and teeth out.

Stiles gave him a, “seriously”, look as he said, “Ok, calm down with the theatrics, it’s just me.”

Derek looked around and when he cleared it the claws and teeth disappeared and in its place was possibly even more scary, a scowling Derek. “What do you want Stiles?”

“I wanted to see if you’re ok?” Stiles asked, playing with a rubber band he had in his pocket.

Derek rolled his eyes and said, “Get real, you’re here to get intel about the FBI agents. I’ll be back in a minute.” Then he walked out of the room.

Stiles sighed, looked at the floor and whispered, “No, I just wanted to see if you’re ok.”

Derek came back a minute later and handed Stiles a file, “Here, they are supposed to be dead,” Stiles raised his eyebrows at him and Derek shrugged, “but their names are Sam and Dean Winchester. They have been arrested numerous times, came back from the dead once, twice now, and before they died they were the most wanted men in America.”

Stiles whistled, “Wow, what did these men do?”

Derek looked at the conner of the room and started to list, “Credit card fraud, theft, burgly, multiple counts of first degree murder, impersonating federal agents, restricting justice, suspicious behavior, and apparently they went on a killing spree not too long ago.”

“Huh.” Stiles says, looking at the mugshots Derek managed to pull. Dean was making a sexy, I’ll steal your wife and your ex-wife face and Sam looked like he was saying, here we go again. Stiles closed the file and said, “Well then.”

They stared at each other for a minute before Derek said, “Are we done here?”

Instead of an answer, Stiles asked, “How long has it been since you last slept?”

Derek answered without breaking a sweat, “I sleep everyday.”

“More than four hours?” Stiles rephrased.

Derek looked down refusing to meet Stile’s eyes and said, “I’m fine Stiles.” Then he walked towards the wall of windows.

Stiles followed him, his footsteps heavier than usual, “No, you’re not and I don’t need any fancy werewolf powers to figure out that you are sleep deprived and probably haven’t had a decent meal in days!”

Derek stopped in front of the windows and said, “I’m fine Stiles!”

“Stop saying that! You’re clearly not! I know you tells Derek, you’re not ok!” Stiles yelled, trying to get through his thick skull.

“Leave.” Derek commanded, refusing to look at him.

“NO! Not until you get more than four hours of sleep and a decent meal!” Stiles argured.

Derek growled, “GO!”

“NO!”

“STILES!”

“DEREK!”

Derek turned around, his eyes shocking red and his teeth barring. Although, Stiles didn’t back down, glaring at him.

“This is exactly why you need to listen to me Derek! Otherwise you are going to crack and it’s going to be on someone you couldn’t care less about. Then you are going to kill them and then you’ll be a real fugitive!” Stiles looked right into his eyes, staring down his wolf inside who was threatening to kill him.

Derek growled at him, but then sunk his nails into his skin and focused on the sharp pain as he knew Stiles was right, he just needed to get control. With blood dripping from his hands he looked at Stiles and conceded to his wishes.

When Stiles was making dinner, he insisted Derek get some sleep. Derek went to his bed and closed his eyes, but didn't sleep a wink. Not when Stiles was there, not when he could be placed in danger.

Eventually, Derek couldn't fake sleep anymore and went to talk to him.They talked about anything and everything while Derek leaned against the counter with his arms crossed and Stiles made a stew.

A couple minutes later dinner was done and they took it to the bed so they could watch The Walking Dead (Stiles favorite and Derek didn't mind the show; so it was fair). Although, after dinner Derek decided to sleep as Stiles worked on some homework. Derek's hand remained on Stiles thigh throughout his whole nap, though having one point of contact was not perfect, it was just enough reassurance (that if Stiles did get taken or hurt, Derek would be able to feel Stiles move and thereby wake Derek up and have him have the capability to save Stiles) for Derek to get some shut eye. Plus Derek was exhausted.

Stiles left a couple of hours later at about 9:00pm, Derek was up and awake at that time, his nap lasted for about 4 hours. Now Derek didn't know what to do. He could keep researching to see who was doing the killings and he did do that for about 3 hours. Yet, he was no closer than he was before when he finished. Damm.

So he decided to visit his favorite place in the woods. He ran until the edge of a small cliff with a rock by the edge. He sat down and watched the moon and stars as a cool breeze washed over his skin. He forgot to bring a coat, but it wasn't too cold for December and he usually was hot anyway. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in all the scents of the woods. The scent of the oak, the sap, the leaves, the grass, the birds, the animals, the cool air, even the mud, and relaxed. He could smell a lot of good arômes and scent's, but very few got close to the smell of the pack. The smell of home.

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Dean and Sam
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They went and checked out the bodies at the morgue. They found slashes in the chest and in the legs. Nothing out of the ordinary.