2001

He'd left. The bastard really had left. And this time, it wouldn't be for a couple of days like when he'd been fourteen – fourteen, more baby than anything else, and still he had caused Dean deeper fear than any poltergeist could (and those bitches could be really damn creepy) – no, this time it would be… forever.
"Stanford." It sounded like a curse, a curse that took Sammy away from the family, away from him. Except that it wasn't. Sammy had chosen to leave.
"Something strong." He waved at the bartender, his eyes riveted on the wooden counter. That egoistical idiot… how could he abandon his father and brother after all those years they'd been protecting him? How could he leave them knowing about all those monsters out there?

"Bastard."
"Huh?" The man at his right side shot him a glance, then quickly looked back as the bartender returned with a glass. Dean downed it and ordered a next one before he added, "My little brother. I've spent my whole life watching over him. And now he says he doesn't want me to. Says he doesn't need me to." The second glass went down, burning and soothing at the same time. "My whole life. And that's his way of saying grace."
To his right he heard a growl, but that very likely was due to the fact that while Dean now got his second refill, the place in front of his neighbor was still empty.
He didn't care. About the world's opinion, about Sammy's ego trip… he was done with it.
"Maybe I shouldn't have tried so hard to keep him alive."
"Shut up!"

Dean's gun was out and directed at the man's heart in a heartbeat – exactly the time the other needed to wrap his claws around Dean's neck. "I said shut up."
Dean froze. He was dead. There was no way he could kill a werewolf on his own. Even one as young as this – he seemed to be even younger than Sam.
"Want a drink? I can get you one."
The grip around his throat tightened. "I want you to shut up."
"Why don't you just kill me? I can see in your eyes you've done it before", Dean hissed back. He was done being hurt by freaking teenagers. Especially teenagers with these sad puppy eyes.

The other's face changed, and for a moment, Dean was sure he'd die. Then suddenly the wolf disappeared and the boy's eyes filled with tears. "I had to."
Dean frowned. What would dad say to that? He had just hit the wolf's soft spot. And given that the boy was handsome... "Because she wanted it?"
"Because she was in pain." The claws disappeared but the boy's fingers remained around Dean's throat. "She begged me to release her. I didn't... I woul have done everything for her."
A wolf with a broken heart. Nice tactic. "Sorry. But what exactly is my part in that?" His left hand was moving to the cell in his back pocket. If he could only reach his father…
"Don't talk about your brother like that." Finally, the other let go of his throat, his hands were shaking. "Don't you ever dare to talk about him like that."
Dean froze. What had that monster to say about Sammy? "My brother is no business of yours."
"Watching over him is your job."
"What the hell are you, super nanny?" Maybe he shouldn't have drunk so much in such a short time. The room blurred, or was that whiny werewolf really crying again? Sam would've totally liked that guy.
"Hey, you listen to me." The young man's hands found his collar again. "You are his big brother. It is your job to protect him. Don't fail. Trust me. You don't want to."
Dean stared at the hands on his body. The guy was fast. And obviously driven by that insane instinct to protect his pack no matter what - Bobby had told him about it, about how strong the bond between wolves could be. So strong that sometimes, they could feel it when the other was in danger. Actually, Dean had kind of liked that idea. God and monsters knew there was nothing he wouldn't do for his family. And Bobby, of course. If they'd have a pack, Bobby would surely be in it, too. "Because you're gonna kill me?"
"Because you will wish I would."

Dean stared at the young man. It was absolutely forbidden - it was very likely lethal - to feel sympathy for your enemies. But he'd seen enough to know the pain in the other's eyes was real. He had failed his little brother, obviously.
An icy fist clutched his heart as he realized what failure would mean in his case... Sammy.

"Dean Winchester." He reached out his hand, and after a moment of hesitation (and with a look on his face that mirrored exactly what the hunter inside of Dean screamed), the werewolf took it. "Derek Hale."
"Becaon Hill Hale?" They'd heard about the case, a whole family burnt. Until that moment, nobody had known they were werewolves. Even Bobby was surprised – and Sam had asked him if that didn't mean that not every supernatural being was evil. With Bobby, it would have been okay to discuss it. But dad had heard, and he'd gone mad.
Two weeks later, Sam had told them about his decision to go to Stanford.

Derek looked down, weighed down grief. "Yes." He opened his mouth but then only shook his head, and Dean nodded in understanding. Some pain could not be brought into words. Some pain could not be eased.

"About that offer from before", Derek finally said, straightening up. "Yeah, I want a drink."
Dean waved at the bartender. "Two for my friend and me." When the man frowned at Derek, Dean put another dollar note onto the counter.
Derek raised his glass. "To the dead."
Dean blinked when he realized his eyes were filled with tears, too. "To the dead."

I don't know how old Derek's supposed to be, or how old he was when his family was killed, so I don't know if this meeting is possible. I just like the thought of it. :) Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.