Dean was on his way home from the grocery store with Sam in the passenger's seat and a carton of milk and a few other items in the backseat. They'd just wrapped up a hunt with Dad, and they were taking a couple of days off. Sam had been moping, as per usual, but today, he sat up very straight and a little stiff. Dean was breathing in to ask what was on his mind when Sam asked, "Can we stop by the post office?"

Dean looked over at Sam, raising an eyebrow. That wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting to hear. "Post office?"

"Yeah. I just . . . I have to mail a letter."

"To who?"

"U-uncle Bobby."

"Since when are you and Bobby pen pals?"

Sam glanced at his backpack, which was in the back seat with the groceries.

Dean looked back at the road. "Get Dad to take you later. Milk won't keep if I make a stop."

"Dean." Sam's voice lowered.

Dean sighed. He should have seen this coming. "College application?"

"No, why would you think that? I'm not stupid, Dean."

Dean let his breath out. That was Sam's lying voice. The last thing he wanted was to encourage Sam's pipe dream to escape the hunting life by running off to college, but he also didn't want his dad to find out, and he could keep that from happening if he quietly just took Sam to the post office. Dean hated watching his dad and brother fight. He made the turn at the last minute; maybe a rejection letter or two would convince Sam to give up. Dean knew he was smart, but his transcripts were all in pieces from different schools, which would make the paperwork pretty difficult if Sam didn't have help. And Dean was pretty sure he didn't have help. "Fine. Be quick about it."

"Really?"

"Before I change my mind." Dean pulled into a parking spot out in front of the post office building, and Sam hopped out, grabbing his backpack as he did. Dean leaned back in his seat, half worrying his dad would somehow show up. The fear didn't really make sense—their dad was back at the motel, and Dean had their only car—but he couldn't help but worry.

Sam had been gone for less than thirty seconds when Dean's cell phone started to buzz. He didn't recognize the number, but he knew better than to ignore a call in his line of work. He picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Dean?"

"Yeah. Who's this?"

"Dean, it's me."

Dean blinked a couple of times and sat up straighter. It had been awhile, but he'd know that voice anywhere. "Luthor?"

"Listen, I need your help."

"Where are you? You graduate yet?"

"Yeah, I'm in Smallville. At the jail."

"Jail? What'd you do?" Dean had kept an eye on the Luthors in the news when he could. Lex had apparently gone through college the way Dean would want to, if he were ever go to. But to his knowledge, Lex had avoided any serious jail time so far.

"Robbed a bank. But it wasn't me."

"Yikes." Dean had to stifle a laugh. He wished he could hear the police officers' conversations in Smallville—billionaires didn't usually become bank robbers.

"A handful of witnesses saw me at the scene of the crime. But I was hosting a reception for two hundred fertilizer distributors in Metropolis at the time of the robbery."

Dean winced. "Robbing a bank sounds like more fun."

"Tell me about it. But right now I'd settle for getting out of jail."

"Right." Dean cleared his throat.

"I'm not sure how long they can keep me. My alibi's rock solid, and I can afford bail."

"That's good. What do you want us to do?"

"We took out a shape shifter's ghost a couple of years ago. Think there might be any live shape shifters left?"

"Yeah, we run into them every now and then. Listen, Luthor, don't go looking for the shifter until I get there."

"I'm in jail, Dean."

"Yeah, obviously, but if you get out before I get there—"

"I won't do anything stupid."

"Stock up on silver, you hear me? Get some silver bullets, grab a silver knife." Dean looked up at the door of the post office—Sam was coming out. "But just as a precaution. We're coming to you."

"I hear you. Hey, Dean, if you get here before I get out, I want you to head to my place. It's a mansion at the edge of town, anyone in Smallville can direct you to it. There's plenty of empty bedrooms, take your pick. Tell the security guards you're Sam and Dean Winchester, and give them the password. It's Julian."

Dean felt a slight pang of sadness at that last bit. "Julian. Got it."

Sam opened the door of the car and slid into the passenger's seat. "Who's that?"

Dean covered the mouth piece and whispered, "Lex Luthor," then he said to Lex, "Hang in there, man. Jail's not fun, but it's not too bad. Go as long as you can without eating the food."

"I'll keep it in mind. Thanks, Dean."

"Happy to help."

"See you soon."

"You too."

Lex hung up then, and Sam said, "He's in jail?"

"Sounds like a shifter case." Dean pulled out of the parking lot, headed back to the motel. "You up for a drive?"

"Dad'll want to come."

Dean frowned. Dean and Sam had only met the Kents and Lex because of that summer when their dad had come back from a hunt a week late. That was over five years ago now, but the couple of times Dean had brought up the incident, his dad had gotten pretty angry.

Dean didn't really know how to explain their friendship with Lex and Clark. He'd never found out about their spring break escapade, either, and Dean wanted to keep it that way. One of these days, Dean's dad was bound to notice that Sam and Dean were keeping a closer eye on Smallville than on any other town in the country. At the very least, he would notice that, on the rare occasions Sam and Dean took off to hunt on their own, they almost always went to Kansas.

But Dean was pretty sure he could avoid that day being today. "Let me worry about that."

Sam shrugged, and they pulled up to the motel. Sam grabbed his backpack while Dean picked up the bag of groceries and headed into the motel room.

His dad was sitting at the little desk, writing in his journal. "Took you so long?" he asked without looking up.

"Ah, got distracted by a news story." Dean put the milk into the mini fridge and the other groceries on the shelf above it.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. News story from Kansas. Some billionaire's kid got caught robbing a bank, at the same time as he was at a reception over a hundred miles away. Witnesses on both sides."

"Heard about that, already looked into it. Alibi's got to be a fake."

That gave Dean a moment's pause. "Uh, why do you say that?"

"Because I looked into the family. The, uh, Lesters?"

"Luthors."

"That's right. Bad eggs, all of them. Wouldn't trust a word that came out of any of their mouths, and they've got the money to bribe witnesses. Trust me, there's nothing to the Luthor case."

Dean swallowed. This might be more complicated than he'd thought. "Well, did you hear about the shed skin near the scene of the crime?"

His dad raised his eyebrows and looked up at Dean. "That a fact?"

"Yeah." What his father didn't know wouldn't hurt him. "I didn't have any other intel on the Luthors or anything, so I called up local law enforcement. They found a pile of . . . gooey stuff, near the bank."

"Huh. Sloppy shifter."

"Yeah. Probably inexperienced. Should be an easy hunt." Dean smirked and looked over at Sam, who had just plunked down on his bed with a book. "That's why I was thinking it would be a great solo hunt for Sam."

"Come again?" his father said.

Sam's eyes widened at Dean, but Dean glared at him, and Sam said, "Uh, yeah. Since I'm eighteen."

"Didn't know you wanted to do a solo hunt."

Sam cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. "Well, I'm just, uh . . . starting to embrace the life a little more."

"Since when?"

"Since . . . I dunno. I'm eighteen now."

His dad's eyes narrowed at Sam, and he shook his head. "Nah. You're not ready."

Dean said, "Aw, come on, Dad, Sam's dying for a chance to prove himself—"

"No, listen to him. He's scared. He's not ready, and that's final." Dad looked up at Dean. "You go with him. You can let him take lead if he really wants to, but you're going."

Dean clenched his teeth to contain his excitement. He hadn't been sure whether his plan would work; he was sure if he'd asked whether he and Sam could go alone, his dad would have insisted that all three of them go. "What're you gonna do?"

"Bobby called me about a hunt out in California. I'm gonna go with him."

"Okay. Can we take the Impala?"

His dad chuckled. "Hell, no. Get a rental."

Dean sighed. It had been worth a try.

Twenty-four hours later, they were pulling up to the mansion in Smallville.

The security let them in without any hesitation, though Dean felt almost embarrassed about parking the stupid little Honda he'd rented among all of Lex's sports cars. He felt a lot better, though, when they started walking through the halls of the mansion and checking out the amenities and extra bedrooms. It was a lot nicer than the suite they'd stayed at over spring break a couple of years back. They both took a little time to unpack, then they met up in one of the kitchens. Dean raided the fridge for snacks. Half of it was food he'd never heard of before, much less seen, but they were able to find food that was familiar enough to eat, and they even tried some of the "fancy" food. Sam thought it was great; Dean thought it would take too long to get used to the taste, so he didn't try.

"Okay," Sam said, "so I'm going to check in with Clark, and you can talk to the local police, and we'll meet back at the jail if Lex isn't out by then?"

Dean scoffed. "Uh, last I checked, you weren't calling the shots here."

"You heard Dad. He said I could lead."

"Get your ears checked. He said I could let you take lead I want to. And I don't."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Well, what were you going to suggest?"

"I'd rather talk to Clark."

"The police aren't going to talk to me. They won't believe me if I say I'm FBI, I still look like a teenager."

Dean grumbled under his breath. "Fine. We'll go with your plan."

Sam grinned.

"Shut up. Bitch."

"Jerk," Sam said, and they parted ways.