So this a SPN/TW crossover focusing on one main idea: What if the Winchesters were the boogieman that lurked until little werewolf children's beds? I hope you enjoy my take on this idea!
It was nothing but harmless fun to begin with. Derek could remember several instances in which his cousins (and on several occasions, his Uncle Peter) would gather up the younger children and tell them horror stories of the hunters who lurked in the shadows, just waiting to kill innocent werewolves.
It was Laura who asked for the tale of the Winchesters in the first place. And it was Uncle Peter who told the tale.
"You all know of the hunters that lurk out there in the world, right?" He had asked them, "They're always on the lookout for any werewolves to hunt down and kill with silver and wolfsbane."
The children had all nodded, Derek included, caught in the thrall of what promised to be a terrifying story.
"Well, my little mongrels." Uncle Peter continued, "There are hunters who claim they've been hunting werewolves for centuries. They have their fancy books and their guns, and all plenty lethal to lycan kind. But there is one family of hunters that other hunters dare not whisper— Winchester."
Derek had listened with rapt attention as his uncle wove the dastardly tale of the Winchester children, who watched their mother be devoured by demon flames, and from that point on, trained to kill anything that crossed their path. They didn't carry fancy weapons or books, just whatever weapons could be hidden in the trunk of their black car. They didn't have the strength of numbers, just the two of them, and yet, the two never were killed by the stronger creatures of the Earth.
"No one knows where the Winchesters are at this moment, which makes them all the more dangerous. So keep your head during the full moon, keep your wolf anchored from blood lust. Because if you lose yourself, word might reach hunters. But above all, never harm a human during the moon. The Winchesters will always avenge human deaths. And if you see that old black car rolling into town with two passengers…you better run, because you can't hide from the Winchesters."
Several of the children begged for more of Uncle Peter's Winchester stories, but Peter had decided not to, claiming he would need the stories for next time.
Derek wouldn't admit it, but he was grateful. Because one night of no sleep was bad enough.
The stories continued throughout Derek's childhood, and each new detail that Peter wove only served to terrify Derek more. From tales of the brother who feasted on demon blood, to the grisly details of the ways in which the brothers knew how to kill various beasts, even how one brother ripped the head off a vampire with his bare hands.
Laura had been the first to notice his nerves regarding the Winchesters. From then on, it became a point for her to rib him on his developing phobia. From pointing out every black car that drove by, to fondly telling him at night to "sleep tight, don't let the Winchesters bite."
Derek could live with the teasing. It was the stories that got to him. And when Laura joined in on Peter's Winchester stories, Derek almost had to leave the room. Only his pride kept him from doing so.
"Some say they can't be killed." Laura had added one night while Peter was telling another Winchester story to the children, who were now much older, "They're immortal."
Peter smirked, "Oh, they can be killed alright." He lowered his voice as he leaned closer to the children, "The trouble with the Winchesters iskeeping them dead." He nodded solemnly, "Rumor has it that one brother was dragged all the way to Hell…and he crawled his way right back up. But that's a story for another time."
Derek never got to hear that story, even if he had wanted to. The fire had seen to that. For all of Derek's fear of Winchesters, he had forgotten the dangers of ordinary hunters. And that carelessness had gotten his entire family killed.
And so he and Laura left. Not only because there was nothing left for them in Beacon Hills, but because, deep down, Derek was afraid that all the death would attract the Winchesters.
And Laura, for her part, stopped teasing him about the Winchesters. She never spoke of them again.
Returning to Beacon Hills was perhaps the hardest thing Derek had to do in his young life. But Laura was the last family he had, and if it was the last thing he could do for her, he would make sure she was buried with what dignity the Hale family had left to muster. It hurt, having to bury her in wolf form, but he knew he couldn't take her dismembered body to the morgue and ask for a funeral. And the pain of having to arrange wolfsbane around her grave was nothing compared to the pain that festered inside him, the pain that came from the knowledge that he was a lone wolf, with no family, doomed to be alone until he was hunted down.
"Sleep tight," Derek muttered, pressing a hand to the compressed dirt covering Laura, "don't let the Winchesters bite."
Honestly, Derek's emotions were running so wild over the following few weeks, he didn't have much time to grieve. From the anger he felt towards the new Beta at digging up his sister's body, to annoyance at being arrested. There was the tiniest bit of hope in mentoring the new Beta, but it was smothered by the sheer panic that shrouded the mystery of the Alpha. And then there was the pain, the sheer agony of coming across Kate Argent once more.
That agony had turned to fury, a blood lust he had never felt before. That blood lust had spilled over to his Uncle Peter once he learned the truth about Laura's death.
He didn't even regret killing either of them. He had relished being bathed in their warm blood, knowing they would never harm another being again. He was Alpha now. And he needed a pack.
Sleep tight, don't let the Winchesters bite.
So there's the first chapter! Let me know what you think! I'm cross posting this from AO3, so more chapters will be up shortly. If you have any ideas, let me know!