I changed the ending to math up with a crossover with NCIS. Message or comment if you're interested

"If you're looking for another case," Sheriff Stilinski suggested, "a couple old friends of mine are in various Washington PD stations who've been dealing with a lot of strange deaths recently."

"Washington?" Sam grinned. "Sounds as good as any."

"D.C." clarified the Sheriff. Sam looked much less enthusiastic, but Dean seemed fine by the change in location. He continued to grin maniacally, ferally.

"What's the deal?"

The Sheriff shrugged and pulled a small card from his overcoat. "There's been a series of...strange drownings. Some even on land."

Dean stepped behind his brother and clapped him on the shoulder. He may have said he wanted to quit the hunting business, but Stiles could see the drive behind his eyes, the love for hunting those that hunt others. If it had been anyone else, Stiles would have worried about Dean turning into a psychopathic murderer, killing anyone he deemed 'evil,' but luckily he had his baby brother to keep him in line. Hopefully.

"We've gone off less," Dean grinned. Sam shrugged nonchalantly, his hands shoved into his pockets.

The two brothers shuffled awkwardly, but once Sam stood up, they immediately headed for the door. Scott and the sheriff thanked the hunters profusely and politely escorted them out. Stiles, however, stayed where he was in the kitchen. His gaze focused on a magazine that happened to be splayed out across the table. Ohn Chitayet Po-Nemetsky. He tried to read the next column: Mondus Klein.

Without a second's thought, Stiles tore out of the house, past a confused Scott and bewildered dad. They didn't follow, thankfully, but allowed Stiles to say goodbye alone.

"Wait!" he called.

Sam and Dean had their hands on the roof of the car, conversing quietly over the Impala. They turned to the young man and grinned. Dean said, "Sorry, but you can't come with us. This is solely a two man job."

Stiles shook his head. "Uh, I was just wondering—or thinking—wondering about other supernatural things…"

"What'd you mean?"

"Uh, how we know if we're dealing with certain things," Stiles breathed. "Like vampires, or other ghosts, or—demon possession." He tried to act nonchalant. He tried to hide his fear when saying the last two words, but his voice hitched slightly. Stiles didn't know if he really thought he was possessed, but he certainly knew something was going on.

"For a possession, there's a number of ways to tell someone's not themselves. My favorite's Holy Water: burns them on contact. Then there's saying the Lord's name. It kind of makes 'em twitch."

The earth jumped beneath Stiles' feet, but he stood still. His mouth was suddenly dry. His palms were moist, and he had to focus carefully to form words in English. "The Lord's name?"

Sam answered this time. "Yeah, in Latin. Christo."

Stiles almost flinched, and he would have had he not known that flinching meant he was possessed by a demon. But he didn't. And he wasn't.

"See you around, Stiles," and the brothers were gone.

There wasn't anything inside his head except for himself. And me.

~.~

Dean ducked underneath the yellow crime scene tape, swiftly followed by his brother. They aimed straight for the bathroom, where a collection of uniforms still fumbled—in Dean's opinion—with crime scene photos and sketches. Luckily they were D.C. cops rather than FBI so Sam and Dean were able to once again use their fake federal badges. The local police scattered, scowling defensively, but the Winchester brothers simply focused on the poor woman, the third in the row of deaths, on the cool, tiled floor in a pool of crimson water, a mixture of blood from where she'd cracked her head on the granite sink counter and the water she'd expelled from her lungs.

"What d'you think? Ghost child who was drowned in the tub?" Dean asked quietly. He used a pen to gently prod the hair away from the poor girl's face.

"Definitely a possible ghost, but the other two deaths didn't happen in a bathroom."

"She could've dragged herself in here after she started to feel like she was drowning," suggested the older brother.

Sam glanced at the red splotches on the otherwise cranberry colored stone counters. "No, she collapsed in here. Probably tried to throw up the stuff in her lungs. I can't find anything wrong with her," Sam mused

"You mean aside from her being dead?" The look Dean received was cold enough and annoyed enough to freeze over hell.

"I mean ghost signs. They usually leave a mark: phantom bruises, cuts, brands."

As the two hunters conversed about the different possibilities, a black SUV arrived outside the house. The driver, a silver-haired man, was the first to exit the vehicle. His team fell in step with him as he approached the officer in charge of the scene. A medical van also pulled up to the scene shortly after, two men, one older and British and the other yound and American, were loudly exchanging differences in opinions on how one should read a map.

Special agent Gibbs held out his NCIS badge, expecting to immediately become the lead agency as the most recent victim was a petty officer on leave. His thoughts, however, were quickly rearended when the LEO said bluntly, "you spelled CSI wrong..."

The young man started to chuckle only to freeze at the federal agent's fiery stare. A second agent of NCIS came up behind Gibbs, offered his own badge, and smiled condescendingly, "it stands for Naval–Criminal–Investigative–Service." He pointed to each letter as he explained the acronym. "You know: boats and things."

Sergeant Downey, the lead officer, sobered and stood at attention, almost mockingly. He had already received this sort of treatment from the two FBI agents inside, he didn't exactly want it from some other agency he'd never even heard of. But there was nothing he could do about jurisdiction, as Agent Gibbs explained the implication behind the petty officer's death.

"Sorry, sir. I just thought the FBI would be handling the case."

"And why is that, Sergeant?" Gibbs demanded.

"Uh—well, because they're inside right now..."

The look that was exchanged between the NCIS team was all Downey needed to see as he slowly backed away and allowed for the two federal agencies to have their pissing contest in private.

So a short goodbye, but if anyone is interested I set it up to possibly do a sequel/other story in the NCIS and Supernatural universe...