Title: How Shawn Met the Winchesters—and a Werewolf!

Summary: It was probably dumb to be scouring the woods on a night like this. But Shawn didn't really expect to become the next target of his friend's killer. (#2 in the Reference 'verse!)

Author's Note: I've written kind of a prologue to this 'verse, with "Shawn Spencer: The Ultimate Reference" and now I am adding my first official story to the series. This is the story of how Shawn Spencer met the Winchesters and first got into hunting. This is pre-series for both Psych and Supernatural. It's set seven months after Shawn has graduated. He and Dean are both 19, and Sam is 15.

Thanks to everyone who gave me such awesome reviews on the previous fic! This story will be five chapters long in total, so stay tuned. ;) I'll post another chapter in a day or two.

Disclaimer: If I owned rights to any of these awesome shows, I wouldn't be sitting here, writing fan fiction. I would be writing episodes. So believe me: I own nothing but the idea of this crossover 'verse and a strong desire to see Shawn and Dean compare their accuracy with a gun.

Warnings: Bad-assery ahead

#2 in the Reference 'verse!

It was probably dumb to be scouring the woods on a night like this. Full moon reflecting brightly enough that he felt like a glowing target in the dark. Two murders already having taken place within a hundred feet of the very dirt he stood on now.

But never let it be said that Shawn Spencer was afraid of danger. Besides, Shawn didn't really expect to become the next target of his friend's killer. If things went as planned, the murderer would never even see him.

The woods were just outside of Windsor, Mississippi. It was a little chilly, though this year's August had been warmer than most. Shawn tugged his jean jacket a tighter around him and plodded on.

Two murders had happened in these woods already. A hiker and a hunter. The newspapers said they had been killed by wild animals. But Shawn had known the second victim, and if there was one thing to be known about Tattoo Kingdom's resident badass Nate Lang, it was that his greatest hobby was hunting. The man had picture upon picture posted in his office at Kingdom of different animals he had hunted. He was no small game hunter either. His pictures were pretty awesome.

No, Nate Lang had not been killed by any wild animal. Not on a night when he was fully decked out for a weekend of hunting.

Plus, Mr. Patterson, the coroner, had been good enough to inform Shawn that Nate's heart had been missing when he did the autopsy. Seriously, what kind of wild animal shredded a man's chest and ate only the heart? Shawn's running theory was that it had been a crazed serial killer who had a thing for werewolves. The missing heart hadn't been mentioned to the public yet, but Shawn had known Mr. Patterson personally. And they were both friends of Nate's.

So if there was a serial murderer running around the woods at night, why was Shawn standing under the moonlight now, walking like a naive target through the trees and brush?

Well, Shawn Spencer looked after his own. He had worked with Nate at the Tattoo Kingdom for two months. They were friends. Nate had a kid back home and a pretty wife. Shawn wouldn't let his death go unanswered for.

Besides, Shawn knew what he was doing. Heck, he had practically been raised for this. His father had taught him everything he could about hunting down a criminal and even about evading someone in a forest. He was beyond prepared for this.

Dean crouched behind his father, Sam only a step behind them, in the dark forest. It was the last night of the lunar cycle, and they had to catch this werewolf tonight. If they missed it, they'd have to return next month to finish the job.

John turned to address his two teenage sons, whispering for safety's sake. "Okay. You boys split up. Dean go West, Sam you're East. Circle this area and meet on the other end. I'm going to try to flush it out towards you."

Sam, at fifteen, had hit a phase of arguing with his father about everything it seemed. But for once, Dean was relieved to note that he only nodded his agreement and began to move. Too bad Dean wanted to argue with his father. Werewolves were serious business—and John was just sending Sam off alone? That did not bode well with the older brother. But Sam was already moving, and Dean knew he had to go as well, so he mirrored his brother's action and hurried to the left, all the while hoping nothing would go wrong on this hunt.

They knew the werewolf was treading within the area, and John was pretty sure it was in the area they were circling now. Dean only hoped he wouldn't run into it before he was back with Sammy and his dad. (More so, he hoped Sam wouldn't run into it before they met back up on the other side of the area.) Things were always easier when the three of them were together during a hunt. But if John Winchester said he would flush the monster out, there was no argument with the plan.

Hopefully Sammy would be able to stay upwind of the werewolf long enough to meet Dean on the other side of this small river running through the forest. They had to circle to the spots where they could cross over, then meet half a mile away to be at the other end of the area the werewolf seemed to be hiding.

Dean crossed the river without incident. And he made it halfway to the meeting point when the first gunshot shattered the quiet.

He crouched down reflexively, but he realized only a moment later that it hadn't been John's gun he heard. It had been Sam's! Dean jumped to his feet and began running in the direction of where his little brother should be, all the while praying he would be okay. Werewolves were tricky to kill without backup, and Sammy was still only fifteen.

He heard another gunshot, but this time it wasn't a sound he recognized. Someone else had come. And it had sounded in the same place as Sam's shot. He sped up, though he hardly knew how.

John appeared almost out of nowhere, heading the same direction. Neither of the older Winchesters spoke, words being unnecessary.

They could hear the sounds of shouting and fighting before they reached the small clearing. They burst into the open just in time to see Sam lying on the ground, a man standing over him, gun held out towards a group of trees to Dean's left. The werewolf was nowhere in sight.

Dean was about to call out Sam's name when the shadows suddenly morphed and the werewolf jumped out of the woods at the stranger. Dean only had time to raise his gun, but his angle was all wrong, and he couldn't shoot the monster when that guy was standing in the way.

Didn't matter though. The stranger fired, already diving away. He landed roughly on his side, only barely coming to a stop on the dirt and grass before raising the gun again—Sam's gun, Dean noted—and firing.

The werewolf dropped.

John was moving before Dean had even processed anything else. Then John was standing over the werewolf, making sure it was dead. Shooting it once more, just in case.

Then Dean blinked and hurried to Sam.

Sammy was conscious, he was glad to see, but bleeding from his chest where the werewolf had swiped him, and wincing against the pain. Dean began checking him over quickly, to make sure the wound wasn't that bad, and that it was the only issue.

"Hey, Sammy. You okay?" It was a dumb question when his younger brother had tears in his eyes from the pain, but it came out of Dean's mouth before he could think.

Sam looked relieved to see him. He tried to smile in reassurance, but it came out as a grimace. He was sweating and breathing hard.

The cuts looked painful, but they weren't life-threatening. So long as Dean could stem the blood flow, they should be all right.

He patted Sammy on an uninjured leg before settling his hands over the worst of it. "We're gonna get you out of here. Just stay awake for me, okay?"

Sam nodded weakly, one hand coming up to grasp Dean's jacket as he let his older brother work on applying pressure to his wound.

"He okay?" John asked suddenly from several feet away.

Dean looked up to see him checking over the stranger, and wrapping a piece of cloth around one bleeding arm. "He'll live. He got clawed up pretty badly though. Gonna need stitches."

"Yeah," the stranger gasped out as he sat up with John's help. "Sorry 'bout that. I tried to push him out of the way as soon as I saw that thing jump out at us, but it was faster than I expected."

"Thanks," Dean said, already knowing John wouldn't. "Anything we can do to repay you?"

John shot him a not-too-thankful look at the offer, but didn't argue it.

The stranger quirked a smile at him. "You could start by telling me what the heck that was."

AN: Hope you're having fun so far! The next chapter will show Shawn's POV for what just happened. Thanks for reading!