AN Hey y'all so after looking through reviews and some good old fashioned soul searching, I've decided to rework this story. I'll be updating each chapter as I go along and I want to thank you for all the support and reviews! Also I don't own Teen Wolf, Supernatural, or any of the characters!
"Yeah, yeah I know what the journal said, Dean. I'm just saying this place doesn't like some huge thing, yanno?" The man had been standing there in the lobby for almost five minutes arguing with the person on the phone-Dean. Deaton hadn't heard anything of real importance except that the information that had led them there was from their father.
"Can I help you?" He was abnormally tall, with dark brown eyes not far off in color from his own.
"I don't know, Dean! Figure it out." With that, he hung up the phone. A clear stranger to Beacon Hills, the man looked up without a hint of recognition in his eyes and gave a polite smile. He brought out a shimmering metal badge labelled FBI.
"Hi, sorry about that. My name is Agent Smith, I'm with the FBI, and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions." The badge was a good replica but it was clearly a fake. Still, better to play along until he could tell how dangerous this man was or wasn't before trying to call him on that fact.
"Certainly." Agent Smith-as that was his temporary name-smiled yet again in that quick, forced way that adults tried to breeze through formalities.
"Great. What can you tell me about a woman named Talia?" Well that was unexpected. Most people didn't know Talia existed as more than a name on a page-or a headstone. And this man and his partner, Dean, had gotten her name from their dad? Interesting.
"I'm sorry, Agent, but you'll have to be more specific. Do you have a last name?" It was general enough but it was vital. If these two had the Hale name, then it could be traced through the mountains of death certificates and, worse yet, back to him. The Hale Emissary.
"Not at this time, unfortunately. But can there really be that many Talias in Beacon Hills?" That was good, at least.
"Hey Deat-" Scott stopped cold in the doorway. "Oh, sorry I'll be in the back." The man's hand moved off his gun-which definitely was not standard issue.
"No need, Scott." Scott just stood, unsure what to do. "Our friend here would love to meet you I'm sure. Wolfsbane bullets, and all." Scott's eyes widened, staring at the man, but Deaton just offered a small smile. Polite was always a good option.
"You're not an FBI agent. What's your real name?" He seemed to consider for a second before glancing around the clinic and fingering his gun.
"Sam." He held his hands off his gun in a show of surrender. "Sam Winchester." Winchester… Deaton hadn't heard that name in over ten years.
"You're a Winchester?" The man seemed pleased that he recognized the name but also kind of pained at having heard it. Interesting.
"My brother Dean and I-John Winchester was our father." Poor Scott was standing there like he'd been electrocuted. Deaton made a note to work with him on his reaction skills later on.
"Pleasure to meet you, Sam. My name is Dr. Deaton. I'm a good friend of the Argents." By the look on his face, the Winchester recognized the name. "What brings you to Beacon Hills?"
"Our dad," The older man who burst through the door with a glare smacked Sam upside the head and turned to Deaton. "He wrote about a Talia in Beacon Hills twenty or thirty years ago. We think she can help us now." Sam glared, clearly annoyed and hissed under his breath.
"You didn't have to barge in here, Dean." The man-Dean-snorted.
"Well I wouldn't have, Sammy, if you hadn't hung up on me. Introduce me to your friends." Deaton smiled, recognizing the sibling banter he'd used to watch between the Hale kids. He held out a hand to Dean, who was clearly the older brother, hoping for friends.
"Most call me Deaton. You must be Dean Winchester." A tight-lipped smile confirmed that. "This is my assistant, Scott, an honorary hunter in the making." Both nodded in Scott's direction but clearly couldn't care less. Too them, a teenage hunter was nothing-not the true alpha they would likely have killed.
"Scott if you could get your lazy ass-" All eyes turned. "Hot damn." Of course Stiles would walk in at that precise moment. Who else could diffuse and create tension so easily?
"And this is Stiles Stilinski. Stiles, Sam and Dean Winchester." Practically tripping over his own feet, Stiles recovered and smiled but his eyes lingered on Dean. It was interesting how quickly he was drawn to the brothers. Stiles was usually the last to trust anyone new.
"Stilinski like the Sheriff who sent us here?" The boy was apparently speechless, forcing Deaton to step in once again because Scott was still as good as a mannequin.
"Yes, this would be his son." Dean nudged Sam, who ignored it.
"How old are you, kid?" Stiles didn't even seem to mind the condescending look Sam gave him with the nickname-he was too focused on Dean.
"I'm twenty two." Scott snorted from across the room, and Deaton vaguely heard him call bullshit, but he didn't really care. This was just unnecessary, Deaton decided. Even if he was the only one who knew it, Stiles wouldn't get anywhere or do anything with either Winchester because they weren't Derek. He wanted to find out everything he could about these Winchester boys but listening to Stiles was just prolonging the awkwardness.
"Perhaps you boys would like to join us for dinner tonight?" The way Dean's face lit up at the mention of food reminded him of Laura when she was little.
"Us?" But Sam wasn't so quick to trust, it seemed.
"Yes. Myself, Scott, Stiles, and some others you may be interested in meeting." Sam, given the look on his face, was about to politely decline but Dean clapped him on the back with a grin a little too wide and laughed.
"We'd love to, Doc."
"This is a bad idea and you know it." What the hell did Sam know? Maybe these people knew the Talia their dad had wrote about. It had taken two weeks of boredom in the bunker before Dean had started combing through their dad's journal again and found the two pages that were stuck together. It was brief, as their dad usually was, but it was enough. It was something, at least.
"They offered us food, Sammy. Who knows? We might learn something about Talia." Sam glared but it wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last so Dean just continued loading the shotgun in front of him.
"We could be walking into a trap." Only Sam could pout with his voice alone-he'd been a master of it since they were little and Dean had learned to hate it. And hate him for it.
"Every damn door we walk through could be a trap. Hasn't stopped us before." Finally silence. He'd actually won for the moment. The peace of loading the gun returned when Sam's voice didn't and he relaxed a little.
"You're taking a big risk, Dean." If only he'd been so lucky. So what if it was a risk? He'd just gotten out of hell, what could these people do to him that some demon hadn't already done?
"You don't have to come." The silence following that was a little bittersweet victory. Sam was coming-there was no way he wouldn't-but he was going to pout and complain about it the entire time. Just like when they were kids.
What was Scott's problem? Just because he couldn't get over his crush on Allison didn't mean Stiles couldn't enjoy the beauty that had walked into his life. Sam was nice but too tall and had and air about him that screamed heterosexual white man. But Dean? Dean was a muddled blonde, freckle-faced, rugged kickass action figure with green eyes straight out of a YA romance novel. Dean fucking Winchester. If they hung around long enough, Dean might actually stand a chance against Derek-because what else did gorgeous men do but compete for Stiles' attention? If only.
"You're drooling again." Stiles rolled his eyes and threw the bio textbook on the floor at Scott's head. Scott caught it before it could do any damage, though. Stupid werewolf reflexes. Sometimes he wished Scott was as stupid as he looked.
"I'm researching, Scott, there's a difference." Scott was going to make some snide remark about just what kind of research he was doing but seemed to think better of it. Instead, the werewolf flopped dramatically on the bed and sighed.
"Whatever you say. What'd you find so far?" Finally a question Stiles actually wanted to answer. About damn time. He was sick of being interrogated about Derek and who he did, or didn't, have feelings for. They were hot-that was it.
"Gee thank you for asking! From what I can gather, these guys are either really extreme and good at what they do, or they suck." Scott raised an eyebrow at him. Come to think of it, he should really talk to Scott about eyebrow care. The ones he had were… passable. But a little plucking could go a long way to even out the long jawline and make his eyes stand out…
"Stiles? I asked what made you think that?" Right. He was gay but he wasn't gay for Scott.
"Right, sorry. Well, in short, they both have shit records-multiple arrests, escaping custody, evading arrest, and even multiple murder counts for each of them. Dean is still a serial killer on record. But I can't tell if they're into deep shit because they're good or if they keep getting caught because they suck." Scott shrugged.
"Does it really matter? They're here." Gah! They were here!? Why the hell didn't Scott tell him!? He wasn't near ready he had to-
"Stiles! Scott! Get down here!" Well shit. Maybe Dean liked the flustered post-research kind of vibe? There had to be something alluring about it, right? Who was he kidding? This was a major screw up if getting in Dean's pants was anywhere in his future.
"Stiles now!" Wait when had Scott left? Regardless, he hurried down the stairs towards the front door. He skidded on the landing carpet like he'd practiced a thousand times and spun perfectly to land on the-shit! He collided head first with a wall of muscle and pulled back to see-Derek fucking Hale standing in a tight T-shirt with bulging muscles and brooding eyes. Of course. Gorgeous and unattainable as always.
"Hey watch it Hale." Derek exhaled a bit in what might have been laughter? They both moved into the kitchen and separated to sit on opposite sides of the table. Why was the McCall's dinner table so huge? In all his years of practically being Melissa's second son, he'd never bothered to wonder or ask why a family of three had a table that could seat twelve.
"Hey, mind if I sit here?" Stiles looked up into pure emeralds and his breath caught in his throat.
"No, no, go ahead." Dean smiled and holy shit was it possible for his heart to beat that fast? The greek god set down the glass of water and stood to get his plate filled. What the hell had Stiles gotten himself into? Did Dean really have a thing for the nerd vibe? Because if so, maybe he could get in a Winchester's pants after all.
"Not now, Sammy." The voice caught his attention. Dean was standing at the edge of the kitchen as if he was waiting in line for the food beside Sam but they were whispering.
"I'm just saying you didn't have to do that." He felt Dean roll his eyes and almost laughed. The only other person whose expressions he could actually feel in the air was Derek.
"Well shit, Sammy! If the Sheriff's son isn't a good ally to have then who is?" Okay he wasn't going to lie that was a little slap in the face. Dean was just getting close to him because of his dad, though did he really care? It didn't make him any less hot. And bribery sex or blackmail sex was still just as steamy as regular sex.
They all took their seats-Scott deliberately across from him so he could kick him in the shin but inadvertently trapped himself between a moose and Allison. If Stiles wasn't getting Dean, he was going to at least enjoy watching Scott suffer. Melissa was the one who finally cracked at the awkward silence.
"So, boys, what brings you to Beacon Hills?" Dean scarfed down food and honestly it was kind of endearing but it also meant his mouth was full so Sam answered the question.
"Our dad left us his journal when he died. We found a paragraph stuck between two pages about a woman named Talia who used to live in Beacon Hills. Dean and I were hoping she might be able to give us some information." Stiles didn't miss it when Derek flinched at his mom's name. No one else seemed to notice, though, so he didn't make a big deal out of it or say anything. Still, after all those years, he couldn't contain the reaction. Stiles had fixated on that more than once over the years he'd known Derek because he knew Derek could control almost anything-even most of his reactions to Kate. But his mom never failed.
She must have meant the world to him, must have been his everything. When he thought about it, about Derek losing her, Stiles had his own little fantasy of Derek confessing everything and falling apart in his arms. He imagined kissing Derek's forehead and brushing away the tears. Imagined Derek clinging to him the way he always wanted to cling to the werewolf. And, only naturally, it usually somehow led to sex.
"Yes, you were saying that earlier," Deaton butted in before Melissa could say anything about the Hales. "But, forgive me for asking, is your mother no longer in the picture?" Both of the brothers seemed to kind of internally grimace at the mention of their mother. It wasn't all that different from the way Derek still winced. At least Derek had something he could relate to, Stiles thought. Maybe then he wouldn't try to kill the hunters-or vice versa.
"She died when we were kids," Sam answered quietly. Maybe Derek would end up not killing them after all? They could bond over losing their mothers as kids? As horrible as that was, it was actually a valid hope Stiles reasoned because Derek had always seemed to lack someone who could understand. But hell if that was the train they were all jumping on Stiles should be included too. After all, he'd been seven when the cancer had won.
"Again, forgive me," Deaton continued to press. "But how did she die?" Dean looked up suddenly as if that question was in his territory to answer. Stiles remembered this from his research binge. He hadn't gotten far into it before being called oh so gracefully downstairs but he remembered an article from a small newspaper. Mother of two killed… but had he read how? Beside him, the joking foodie from before was gone now and, in its place sat a serious, grown-up soldier.
"Our house-in Kansas, where we grew up… There was a fire." Stiles stared at Derek. Of course it was a fire. The word alone seemed to hit Derek like a punch to the gut but did Hale realize? What were the odds of both their childhood homes being burned to the ground? And the odds of their mothers both dying in the flames?
"How unfortunate, you have my condolences." Sam nodded in thanks but Dean was silent and brooding. This was like one of those stories about people who found out they had a twin separated at birth or like doppelgangers who were scary similar. It was certainly some weird shit. Still, it was obvious to the whole table that neither of the brothers had been the same since the fire and damn if that wasn't familiar.
"So, either of you boys gay?" Stiles spit out his drink-conveniently all over Scott. Served him right for asking that question especially after the subject they'd just talked about. Dean, it seemed, was taken aback but Sam laughed.
"No, we aren't, sorry. But with our track records it probably couldn't hurt." There was scattered laughter around the table, most not quite sure what to do with that, but Melissa was apparently sick of being uncomfortable in her own dining room.
"What does that mean?" Sam looked to Dean, as if asking for permission to tell them, but Dean beat him to it. It was funny how much they acted like Scott and Stiles had when they were little. One headstrong and emotional, the other reserved and logical. The clash of brothers who loved each other and, because they loved each other, could have more anger and hate than anyone else in the world.
"You're the one with the track record, Sammy. Why don't you tell them about Amelia?" Sam glared. The brothers locked eyes and Stiles recognized it instantly. It was the look he and Scott used to give each other before wrestling or fighting when they were still around the same physical level. The look that said it's on.
"What about Bela?" Dean's eyes narrowed and it was clearly between the two brothers now and no one else. Stiles just liked watching-he liked seeing Dean all riled up. It was kind of hot and the added bonus of getting inside information was definitely a turn on.
"Don't forget Meg." Sam's hand twitched beneath the table.
"And Jo." Dean winced.
"What about Ruby?" Sam grit his teeth.
"Anna too!" Dean clenched his hand into a fist.
"Can't leave out Jess!" Sam's pupils widened and then flared in anger.
"Oh and poor Lisa!" Dean fell quiet. It was his turn to add another name to the list but he didn't and the silence only churned the tension in the air. Stiles couldn't take the suspense. He wanted to say something, to ask, to keep the information trickling in, but he was too shocked.
"What happened to them?" Or maybe he wasn't. Without breaking eye contact, Dean answered him-his voice cold.
"They all ended up evil, or dead. Or both." And at that, Stiles really did stare at Derek. Everyone, it seemed, was staring at Derek now. Because the fires and the mothers could have been a coincidence and the brooding, self-sacrificing nature could've been a freak thing only Stiles noticed. But Paige, Kate, and now Jennifer too? Either evil or dead, or both? That was too much.
There was no other explanation. Their dad had written about Talia at roughly the right time, hadn't he? The fire, their moms, their horrible relationships, it was all too similar. It was like some freakish switched at birth thing. Like always, Deaton seemed to know more than he was telling and maybe he did but it didn't matter. Stiles wasn't sure how he knew or how he could be so sure but he was. He didn't need Deaton to tell him that Derek was a Winchester-he already knew. And it was so clear, even to the others at the table.
Because the brothers-the three brothers-might have grown up in completely different environments. They might have lived across the country from each other with family neither of them had ever met. They might have never known about each other for whatever reason. But one thing was certain.
They might have been separated at birth, but their fates sure as hell hadn't.
Thanks for reading! Please review! I apologize in advance for the process of reworking this story.