The fluorescent lights that lined the ceiling made the police station look even worse. The walls were a dingy beige and the floor didn't look like it'd been redone since the 70's. They had a total of five desks behind the front counter and only three of them looked occupied. The other two had become catch-all's.

Dean hoped the two offices in the back were a little better than the front, but he seriously doubted it.

"Here you go, Agent," the Deputy said, dropping the thin file in front of Dean instead of just handing it to him. The Deputy was about an inch shorter than Dean but built like a football player. "I don't know why you'd be looking into this though. It's just some kind of animal. Don't you have something better to do?"

Dean shrugged. "That's what I told Quantico, but what's a guy to do?"

Dean opened the file and started looking through it. If he was going to read it, he had to read it here. Once he got back to where Bobby was sitting, Bobby would try to grab the file to read it himself. He was as bad as Sam. It was probably where Sam had picked up the bad habit.

"I'm surprised they'd send someone like you for a case like this," the Deputy commented.

"What?" Dean asked, looking up from the file.

"You're a suit. This is obviously a wild animal," the Deputy said. "You don't look like you've ever hunted a day in your life. They should have sent someone with more experience."

Dean almost laughed. "The Bureau had to send me. They must have figured out you couldn't handle it."

Dean walked away with the file, rolling his eyes. Every interaction seemed to remind Dean more and more why he didn't like cops.

He scanned the document while walking over to the sitting area then passed it off to Bobby.

"It's just repeating everything we already know," Dean said, sitting down beside Bobby.

Bobby hummed in reply but read the file anyway.

According to the file and the few witnesses that'd been willing to talk to them, the monster was just obliterating the bodies. The thing didn't seem to be able to tell the kidneys from the spleen until it'd tried a bite of every organ and found them unsatisfactory. The only thing it seemed to like was a liver from one of the victims and a few of the hearts from the others. It'd even eaten half of one of the brains.

"You boys didn't say anything about a claw," Bobby said, continuing to analyze the file.

They hadn't found anything on a claw. Dean leaned to look over Bobby's shoulder.

It was mentioned in one sentence on the bottom of the page. The cops hadn't even identified what kind of claw it was yet.

Bobby wasn't scanning. He was meticulously reading the file. And he'd found something.

The file didn't have a picture though.

Dean stood again. "I'll ask Officer Not-Friendly."

Behind him, he almost heard Bobby roll his eyes. For most people, it was a visual thing, but Bobby rolled his eyes so much Dean could hear it.

"Deputy," Dean called, hitting the bell on the counter. It was an obnoxious sound and Dean secretly hoped the Deputy hated the sound as much as Dean would have if he worked in place like this. If Sam was here, he would have sent Dean an annoyed look, but Sam wasn't here. He was out trying to talk with one witness that was proving elusive so far. She'd found the third body and didn't seem to want to talk about it.

Dean hit the bell again.

The Deputy poked his head through the door way that Dean figured was the Deputy's office and sent Dean a glare.

"I need to see some evidence," Dean said.

The Deputy scowled, but walked over anyway.

"What?"

"The claw that was found in victim number four."

Dean leaned against the counter while the Deputy disappeared into the back.

If it'd left a claw then that ruled Sam's guess of another ghoul that'd decided to go after the living.

Dean drummed his fingers against the counter.

Dean wasn't sure what else would have left such a mess with the bodies. Vamps were usually pretty clean with their kills and they hadn't been able to find any deaths in the area that would make sense for a ghost. If it was a ruguru, that'd explain the mess, but those usually didn't leave so many remains. Werewolves usually only went for the heart and Djinns went for the blood.

It took the Deputy longer than was possibly necessary to bring the claw out. It was in a small plastic bag with the case number written on the top.

Dean took the bag. The claw still had blood on it.

He started back to Bobby.

"Who's the old guy?" The Deputy asked. Dean looked back at him and the Deputy nodded his head at Bobby. "He's another agent, right? Bureau must have known you can't take a case like this alone."

Before Dean could reply, he heard Bobby speak up.

"No, he's my son. It's bring your father to work day at the Bureau." Bobby flipped a page. "Here's your sign."

Dean snorted a laugh and walked over to where Bobby sat.

Bobby looked up at Dean.

"You really should get some hunting experience," Bobby said, low enough that only Dean could hear.

Dean grinned, shaking his head.

The claw belonged to an incredibly stupid werewolf. Evidently it didn't figure out that it was supposed to eat the heart until it reached the fifth body. Dean still had trouble believing that it had been a werewolf and he had been the one almost eaten before Sam killed the thing.

A werewolf that had a taste for livers. It was a ridiculous thought, but Dean had seen it with his own eyes.

Sam and Dean were driving back to the motel and Bobby had already gone home. Bobby seemed as annoyed with the werewolf as Dean. What kind of werewolf didn't eat hearts? Dean was almost disgusted with the thing on behalf of werewolves. Sure, werewolves were murderous and ate people, which was problematic, but they usually went by a rulebook. Eat hearts. It wasn't too much to ask that they just stick to the playbook, was it?

Dean flipped on the turn signal and turned at the next stop sign.

"Do you ever forget Bobby isn't our father?" Dean asked, distracting Sam from whatever he was reading on his phone.

Sam glanced over at him, but Dean kept looking at the road.

Dad was irreplaceable. And despite them both being hunters, John and Bobby couldn't be more different. But sometimes, Dean just forgot. He remembered the first time he'd called Bobby 'Dad' by accident. It'd only happened a few times and Bobby never mentioned it. Bobby never brought attention to it, he just answered whatever question Dean had asked.

"I don't know," Sam said. "I mean, I always figured we were lucky enough to have two."

Dean nodded. He could work with that.