Of all the various disguises Dean had to wear for hunting jobs, he hated the suit the most. Unfortunately, it was the one he had to wear the most often. The one thing he liked about it was the looks he got from women he passed on the street when he was wearing it.

He was only just old enough to pass for FBI. The officer at the front desk gave Dean a skeptical eye when he saw his badge, but a quick phone call to Dean's "dispatcher" set him straight. Bobby could be very persuasive over the phone.

Dean had half hoped he would run into Lex while he was here, since some small towns had their only holding cells in the police station, but the sheriff said Lex had been sent to a different jail on the other side of town. "Not far enough, if you ask me," he muttered under his breath.

Dean nodded hesitantly. "Ah, do you think he's guilty?"

"He was seen at the Smallville Savings and Loans. By multiple people."

"What about his alibi?"

"I think the Luthors have the money to pay their way out of any sort of trouble they happen to find themselves in."

"If that's the case, why would Luthor be robbing a bank?"

"I don't pretend to understand what goes on inside their minds. All I know is, that Lionel Luthor is a real bastard, if you'll excuse my language."

"No arguments from me there," Dean muttered.

"Apple doesn't fall far from the tree, that's all I'm saying."

Dean raised his eyebrows. He would have defended Lex, but the last thing he needed was for someone to suspect the personal connection. "So what does the FBI want with a small town bank robbery case?"

"Small town, big name. I'm going to have to ask for entry to the crime scene and access to all of the security tapes from the day of the robbery."

"I can give you the security tapes, but, um, you're late for the crime scene. The bank has already been scoured for evidence and reopened to the public."

"It's been less than 48 hours."

The sheriff shrugged. "Ah, it's a small town. Real tight knit community. We don't get a lot of crime around here. And this was a pretty cut and dry case until the alibi came up."

"Well, what do you have?"

"The gun, the handwriting sample."

"And?"

"That's it."

Dean let his breath out. "Smallville's finest," he muttered.

"What's that?"

"Nothing." He cleared his throat. "Have you run the fingerprints and handwriting."

"Yeah. Lot of good that did. It wasn't a match. Luthors sabotaged my tests."

The sheriff was starting to sound more and more like a conspiracy theorist. "Any DNA samples to run?"

"What, like a hair?" The sheriff smirked.

Wow. Dean really hadn't expected the police to stoop that low. "Understood. I'll make do with the security tapes and go interview the younger Luthor."

"His bail was just posted. Head over to his mansion, he'll be there by the time you arrive."

"Ah." That was a good thing, at least. "Thanks for your, uh, help, sheriff."

"Anytime."

Dean headed out of the police station and made it back to the mansion before Sam did. The first thing he did was to look around the various rooms for a TV with a VCR, which he found in a big living room, and he sat down to watch back the security footage. He got pretty unlucky, though. The guy at the bank did look strikingly like Lex, but there was no camera flare, because the guy never looked at the camera directly enough for Dean to see.

Dean sighed and called the Kent farm from a phone he found in the same living room. Aunt Martha picked up, and she passed the phone to Sam.

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"Hey. What did you find out?" Sam asked.

"Lex wasn't exaggerating about this town. Everyone hates him."

"Oh. Why?"

"Because of his father, I guess? Anyway, I got the surveillance tapes, so we can check for the eyes flashing."

"Okay. Hey, is it okay if I stay at the Kents'?"

"If you want." Dean couldn't imagine why Sam would pick the little guest room at the farm house over the mansion, but Sam was always a little weird.

"Cool. Clark has some ideas about how he might identify the shifter."

"You're letting Clark in on the hunt?"

"Why not?"

"Because he's fourteen." And an amateur, Dean wanted to add.

"I was thirteen when we took out that Djinn in Smallville. And anyway, he's the only one of us who knows basically everyone in town. He can tell if someone is acting weird."

"Uh. Okay." Most shifters were pretty experienced actors; Dean doubted Clark would be able to tell the difference. But if Sam wanted to work with Clark while Dean worked with Lex, that was fine. "You check to make sure Clark's not a shifter?"

"Silver blade, right? He's clean."

"Right."

"I crushed up some meteor rock and put it on the blade. Monsters in Smallville sometimes get infected and their weakness shifts, you know?"

Dean had already thought of that. He'd done the same to his silver blade on the way back to the mansion, and he'd brought some of the old bullets they'd used back when they'd fought meteor-infected werewolves. "Will do," Dean said.

"Clark and I are going into town tomorrow to look around."

"Okay." Dean heard footsteps in the hall, and Lex came into the room. "Lex is home. Talk to you later, Sam."

"Yep." He hung up.

Dean turned around to face Lex. He looked almost exactly the same as he had when Dean had seen him last. "Luthor."

"Security told me you'd be here," Lex said. "Good to see you, Dean."

"It's good to see you too. I hope." Dean went over to his bag, which he'd left in the closet. He took out his silver knife. "Shifter's on the loose. Can't be too careful."

Lex swallowed, his eyes on the blade. "What are you gonna do?"

"Silver burns shifters. This is just a precaution." He held out the knife.

He meant for Lex to take the knife and cut himself, but Lex just held out his arm instead. Dean made a small cut, and Lex winced.

Dean chuckled at his reaction. "You going soft on me, Luthor?" Dean cut himself with the knife and didn't make a face. It wasn't often he could keep himself from reacting when Lex couldn't.

"Nah. It's just been a rough month."

"Yeah?" Dean wiped away the blood and put away the knife.

"Between the car accident and getting arrested for bank robbery—"

"Whoa, whoa. Car accident?"

"Yeah, it's been all over the news. My car went over a bridge. I would have died if Clark hadn't saved my life."

"Wow." Dean blinked a couple of times. He hadn't expected that; he usually thought of the kid as kind of wimpy. "Good for Clark."

"Yeah."

Dean watched Lex's face for a moment. He definitely did seem more on-edge than usual. Dean hadn't seen Lex face-to-face in a couple of years—they'd exchanged a few letters and phone calls, but that was it—but Dean had to wonder if the pressure from his father and the stress of knowing he had a bank robbing doppelgänger was finally getting to him. Dean couldn't help him with his father, but he could help with the shifter. "So hey, listen, I went and talked to the police. They don't have a whole ton of evidence from the crime scene."

"That's good, right?"

"Well, it could be good or bad. No way to confirm the robber was you, but also no way to pin it on anyone else."

A light knock came at the door, and Lex opened it to find a security guard. "Mr. Luthor, there's a Miss Sullivan here to see you."

"Chloe?" Lex nodded. "Send her in."

A petite blond girl with short hair, probably around Clark's age, came into the room. She smiled brightly. "Hi Lex!" Her eyes fell on Dean "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had company."

"Oh, that's okay," Lex said. "Can I help you?"

"I actually came to help you. I came as soon as I heard you were out from jail."

Dean gave her a once over. "Uh. Dean Winchester, FBI. Lex called me in to help with his situation."

"Oh! Then you'll want to hear this, too." She took out a folder from under her arm. "So, Lex, you were seen in two places at once, right?"

"Right . . ." Lex said.

"I think this could be tied back to the meteor rocks." She pulled out her folder and started rifling through a few newspaper clippings. "None of the, um, journalists mentioned the fingerprints or DNA tests, but I was able to talk to the graphologist who analyzed the robber's handwriting. He was convinced it was a teenager."

"And what does that have to do with the meteor rocks?" Dean asked

"Well, people are turning up infected all the time these days. We've already had two others from Smallville High. You see, I've got this theory that the meteor rocks give people strange abilities sometimes. And it's not just a theory anymore—I've seen one of them with my own eyes."

Dean took a deep breath. The last thing he needed was this perky little blond girl getting killed on his watch. She had nothing of what it took to be a hunter. "Okay, listen to me, ah . . ."

"Chloe." She bounced on her toes a little. "Chloe Sullivan."

"Miss Sullivan. You want to know what you can do to help?"

She nodded, smiling.

"Stay out of this."

Her smile faded. "I—I don't—"

"Don't get involved. Don't put yourself in danger. Don't go trying to be a hero. Let the professionals handle this."

"But I just—"

"I appreciate your help, I really do, but I'm not going to be responsible for you getting hurt because you were sticking your nose where it didn't belong. Go home, Chloe."

She set her jaw and took a step closer to him—he had to admire her guts, given that she was a head shorter than him. "Agent Winchester. I know you probably haven't spent a lot of time in Smallville, but things are different here. We deal with the unexplained all the time. I really think you're going to need help from an expert."

Dean had no doubt that Chloe meant what she said about dealing with the unexplained. She wasn't the kind of person he could dissuade by insisting some Windigo they'd seen was a bear or that they'd been imagining ghosts. But he still didn't want her getting killed. "If that's true," he gave her a pointed look, "I've got the experience to deal with it. Trust me."

She scowled, picked up her folder, and left.

"You didn't have to be so hard on her," Lex said.

"If it saves her life . . ." Dean shrugged.

He had to hand it to Chloe, though—she'd brought some pretty useful information. A teenaged shape shifter. That was new.