The Girl With A Past ((Completed))

Shelter

((Stiles))

"Stiles. I'm the Sheriff's son." Stiles answered the question reluctantly, itching to get away and go after Isaac. Stiles wasn't sure he trusted him yet, even with how much they'd been through already, and what he'd said had sent a chill through Stiles' blood. He stood protectively in front of Lydia, unsure of what to think of the two huge men and girl that randomly started questioning, and Stiles really didn't want anything happening to the basic love of his life. That would definitely put a dent in the ten-year-plan. "Who the hell are you?" He questioned, glaring at the shorter of the two men, who looked fairly confident and short-tempered. That made Stiles uneasy and cautious.

The smaller guy, who was still at least six foot one, if not taller, scoffed and reached into his jacket, the other two following suit. He flashed Stiles his 'FBI' badge, an obvious annoyed look twisting his face into a scowl. "Special agents Tyler, Perry, and Smith." He informed, quickly putting his badge back up.

Stiles almost laughed in their faces. "Can I see your badge again?" He asked through his teeth. Agent Tyler rolled his eyes, but obliged, holding it out for Stiles to take. He held it flat out in front of him, examining the numbers and design. Then he scoffed, tossing it back to Agent Tyler. "It's fake."

Stiles could have sworn he saw the taller one, Agent Perry, pale a little, but the smaller, weirdly older-looking one just looked angry. He held the badge next to his face, closing his eyes like he was trying to remain calm. "This," he started, shaking it once, "is not a fake badge."

Stiles grinned, lifting his chin. "The two letters mixed in at the end of the year, ID shifted to ten digits, CL's from last month." Stiles pointed out the most obvious infractions, well, aside from the names. He saw the girl's eyes widen. "Tyler and Perry? Really? Not to mention that Smith is one of the most common surnames on the planet." Stiles continued, his grin widening when he saw the dumbfounded looks on all of their faces. "I'm the Sheriff's son, guys. I know a fake badge when I see one. So give me one good reason why I shouldn't rat you out?" Stiles muttered, wanting nothing more than to protect Beacon Hills and his friends from a couple of criminals.

Suddenly there was a hand on his arm, and he was being forced farther away from the crowd of distraught students. The smaller guy discreetly pulled a gun from his jacket and pointed it at Stiles at an angle where no one would see. Stiles clenched his jaw, feeling the cold metal press through the thin fabric of his loose-fitting t-shirt. "Listen, kid, I will put a bullet through your stomach if you say one word." He threatened softly, his face barely two inches from mine. Stiles' gaze didn't waver, even when he heard a sharp intake of breath from Lydia.

"Dean." The big one said, looking around.

Dean didn't move; he just kept glaring at Stiles, as if waiting for a response. "Dean, is it?" Stiles muttered, grinning when Dean's jaw clenched. "I highly doubt you're going to shoot me right here, right now. I don't think the Sheriff would appreciate that. So why don't you tell me who you really are, and why you have to threaten a teenager just to be here." Dean narrowed his eyes, hesitating for a second before letting go of Stiles, and stepping back.

"I'm Sam, this is my brother, Dean, and Elena." The bigger one said, gesturing to the shorter one and the girl. "We're trying to look into the recent murders." He informed. Stiles got a surprisingly trustworthy vibe from him, like he could automatically believe anything he said, even though he impersonating an FBI agent. "This is the easiest way."

Stiles exchanged a confused and cautious glance with Lydia, who was now beside Stiles. "Why?" He asked.

Sam shifted a little, waiting for the people to completely pass by him before giving an answer. "We believe that there's something else going on here besides a serial killer." He answered vaguely.