A/N

Hey guys! Thanks so much for reading! Please review, and make sure to check out my non-crossover "one way ticket." The next chapter will be posted tomorrow. Enjoy!

Ch. 5

Rumor Has It

Scott had never seen Isaac look so agitated. He marveled at how his normally level-headed beta was, for lack of a better word, a nervous wreck. Shifting from foot to foot rapidly, the boy in question was standing next to Scott and the rest of the pack, legs and hands shaking.

"I can't hear them!" Isaac whined. "I don't understand! They aren't even far away!" Scott patted Isaac's shoulder comfortably. He felt bad for the poor guy. It had been a little jarring for them, so dependent on their werewolf hearing, to discover that they could not make out a single word Stiles and his relatives were saying, and they couldn't be more than 50 feet away. Sure, they could make out the three different voices, -Scott would know Stiles' anywhere-, and they could make out changes in volume, but no words. They had no idea what was happening, which, Chris would not stop pointing out, put them at a huge disadvantage. Scott, however, refused to believe that anything Stiles was saying could in anyway be dangerous to him, so instead he focused his attention on Isaac. He was still in shock from his brief confrontation with Sam and Dean Winchester.

"Isaac, man, what were you thinking?" Scott asked his friend, his voice heavy with concern. Isaac merely sighed.

"I dunno Scott. I don't really have an explanation." In truth, Isaac had been in shock. The demon had scared him, Stiles had scared him, even Stiles' gun had scared him. Sure, he was repulsed by the blood and brain matter, but the fear had been worse. Isaac hated being afraid. He hated how weak it made him feel. The situation in the loft had been too much, the hate and the fear and the self-revulsion. He probably would have wolfed out right there if two humans hadn't walked through the door. Instead, he did something much worse. He attacked. And now Isaac Lahey was back right where he started. Afraid.

In retrospect, Isaac could barely remember the attack. It had been another part of him that leaped, but he had fallen. One second he was in the air and the next... He had been so sure he was going to get shot. He supposed to an outsider, it would have looked like Sam was the bigger threat. It was his gun aimed at Isaac's head, after all. But Isaac had looked at Dean and knew he had made a grave mistake. Hunters look after their kin more fiercely than werewolves.

Don't get him wrong, Sam was also terrifying. There was something about him that wasn't quite... human. But, Isaac supposed, that was why the Winchesters were so scary. The way they stood, the way their faces could be so cold, they couldn't be human. But, impossibly so, the were.

Isaac was jolted out of his train of thought by Scott nudging him. He glared, then looked up to find everyone looking at him. "What?" he hissed venomously, still incredibly on edge.

Derek faced him with his hands up. "I was just asking if you were ok. Obviously, you are not." Then, with his usual level of heartbreaking sympathy, Derek turned to the rest of the pack, now standing in a tight circle. "Doesn't matter. What matters is this: Why can't we hear them?" Derek gestured wildly to the oddly horrific scene of Stiles digging a grave with two killers. Derek had directed his question at Chris, and as they looked at eachother fear passed through their eyes. It was almost tangible. Isaac couldn't tell if they were afraid for Stiles or afraid of the Winchesters. Probably the latter. he thought. I guess I'm not alone. The thought actually made him feel better.

Meanwhile, Chris fidgeted with his hands as he replied to Derek. "I don't know. I heard somewhere that mixing mountain ash and wolfsbane could incapacitate a werewolf's senses, but I've never heard of it doing this. They must have spread it around themselves in a circle. But wouldn't we have seen them do that?" The pack looked stupefied as they tried to think. Isaac, however, put his brain into overdrive. all of the sudden it came to him.

"They put it on the shovels!" Isaac didn't realize he had said that out loud until he found the whole pack looking at them. He hastily continued. "Guys, think about it. Mountain ash automatically spreads itself into a circle, right? Theoretically it should do the same regardless of wolfsbane. They're digging a grave. How were we supposed to know what was flying dirt, and what was mountain ash?" The pack started to consider this, before Scott spoke up.

"Isaac, you're right! But how did you think of it?" Isaac glowed at the praise, but shrugged passively.

"I worked as a gravedigger, before I was turned, remember?" The pack nodded. "I've dug enough graves for a lifetime. I guess it just makes sense." Isaac paused before he added, "It's what I would have done." He flinched, realizing what that met. How many graves had these men dug? He looked at them, even though he could not hear them, and saw how scarily comfortable with it they were. They were so orderly it looked rehearsed. It probably was, Isaac thought bitterly Hundreds of times. What bothered Isaac the most, though, was how easily Stiles fit into the choreography. How many times had he done this?

Behind Isaac, Derek growled. "Okay so we know how we can't hear them" he said menacingly, "how does that help us figure out what the hell they are saying?" The rest of the pack joined Isaac in looking at the Winchesters. At this point they could only see Stiles from the waist up, so deep was the grave. Suddenly a raised voice cut across the graveyard, and while they couldn't make out the words, all werewolves flinched instinctively at the sudden change in volume. From the way the three grave-diggers were standing, Isaac guessed that the shout had come from Dean. The pack flinched again as it was followed by several more.

Scott growled as he saw Stiles cower, but stopped as he saw Sam put an arm comfortably around Stiles' shoulders. However he was still angry. "What are they saying?" he asked, kicking a nearby headstone. Chris cleared his throat.

"Guys, remember, there are others here who aren't werewolves. Others who have finely tuned hunting ears." Chris said smugly. The pack whirled on him.

"You could hear?" Scott asked hopefully. Chris nodded.

"I couldn't hear anything." said Allison glumly. Chris put a hand on his daughter's shoulder.

"It's alright sweetie. You're not there yet. But soon." Allison brightened up. Chris looked back at the wolves. "I could only make out some of the shouting. Something about a call, or lack thereof, and the Colt, and a mention of stealing. Also a mention of a gunshot on a wall, which probably refers to the incident at the loft from their perspective." The pack flinched again, recoiling at the memory of smoke and brain tissue. Chris continued. "Guys, this is bad. The Winchesters weren't tracking the demon, like I originally thought. Stiles called them. It sounds like they've been keeping in touch. That's probably how they knew to spread the ash," Chris realized, almost afraid to continue. "They already knew what to expect. Stiles informed them about the pack." Chris sighed. "Of all the hunters to be mixed up with, it had to be the Winchesters."

Derek and Peter nodded in understanding and Isaac wondered for the first time how odd it was that Peter had remained silent. It was so out of character. Meanwhile Isaac and the other teenagers continued to be confused.

Finally Scott spoke up. "I'm confused." Understatement, Isaac thought. Scott continued. "Stiles said his last name was Winchester. does that mean he's related to them? And who exactly are the Winchesters? Derek, Peter, they're human. And Chris, they've got to have at least 10 years less of hunting experience than you. And yet I've never seen the three of you look so afraid." Chris sighed again before replying to Scott.

"Look, Stiles obviously knows them. I have no idea how and I certainly don't want to find out. He knows what they do. I'm really hoping that he said what he did back there to scare the demon. Stiles can't be their brother. If he is then we are all dead." Isaac snorted in indignation.

"You've got to be kidding me." he said. He looked at the adults and was frustrated with their blank looks. "C'mon," He continued exasperatedly, "Someone that can scare demons with only their last name?" This time, Derek spoke up.

"Isaac, you saw them in action for five seconds at the loft. Tell me you aren't terrified." Isaac froze.

"Fair point." he said weakly. "But who are they? And what the hell is with that gun?"

At last Peter spoke. "They're the Winchesters," he spat. As if that alone was an accurate explanation. "They're hunters."

"No I got that!" Isaac said, a little annoyed.

"Let me clarify, then," said Peter, dangerousness creeping into his voice. "They've got to be the best hunters on the planet. Picture Kate, but a million times worse. The don't mean to kill the innocent, but somehow the blood always ends up on their hands. You name it, they've killed it. Vampires, demons, werewolves..." Peter trailed off looking murderous.

Isaac was a little alarmed, but nevertheless continued. "That's another thing. How did Stiles kill that demon?"

"It was the Colt," said Chris, eyeing Peter warily. "The gun was made in 1805 by a famous hunter named Samuel Colt. Rumor is it can kill anything. Anyone keeping tabs on it knows that the Winchesters used it to kill a ruthless demon in 2007, and have had it since."

"Well," said Scott quietly, "That means Stiles must be their brother, right? Why else would they have trusted him with the gun?" Chris shook his head.

"Dean said he stole it." Chris said, waving his hand impatiently. "Look that isn't the point. I don't think you guys fully appreciate who we're dealing with here. That demon they killed was third in command next to Lilith and the devil himself. And they've killed hundreds of demons since. Before 2007 it was thought impossible to kill them, until the Winchesters. Now Lilith is dead too, and rumor has it they almost killed the devil. They tore down the infrastructure of hell. They've almost cleansed North America of ghosts. They've killed every kind of monster, including ones that shouldn't even exist. They'd have no problem with a pack of teenage werewolves, which means the only reason you aren't dead is because of that boy over there." He raised his hand and pointed at Stiles. "You better hope they aren't related, because if anything happens to him on our watch, heads will roll."

The pack took this in in silence. Then Allison spoke up. "What are they? The supernatural messiah?"

Chris smiled weakly. "Funny you should say that. I don't believe this one myself, but rumor has it they stopped the Judeo-Christian apocalypse."

The pack stared at Chris Argent with their mouths wide open. Then, behind them, a sound of laughter broke out. The pack turned to see the Winchesters and Stiles with their heads thrown back, laughing their heads off. Isaac had a feeling it was at his expense. The pack then watched the Winchesters unceremoniously toss the demon's corpse into the grave. Dean went to his car parked nearby to put away his shovel, and Sam and Stiles began filling the grave with dirt. Isaac squinted to see Stiles' face, and found him chillingly at ease.

"Well," said Scott, always the silence-breaker, "Whatever is true about them, they do have an awesome car." The pack laughed and gazed at the spotless Chevy Impala.

"That they do" Chris agreed. He seemed to ease up a bit, and so did Derek and Peter. Isaac, however, still had something bugging him.

"Chris, what aren't you telling us?" Scott shot him a warning look, but Isaac continued. "Something is off about them. The way they smelled, the way they acted. And when Sam and Dean had guns to my head, I could swear that in their eyes I saw-"

"Hellfire." Lydia finished. She had otherwise been silent, too shocked to do much but process. Isaac nodded. "I know what you mean. When I look at them, I can feel death."

"Well," Chris said, fidgeting a little more, "There's another rumor I don't believe."

"Oh, come on," Peter drawled condescendingly. "You can't know me and not accept it. It's not like I'm an exception." Isaac looked confused. "The rumor," Peter said, turning to Isaac, "Is that they can't die. That they have died before, but have been resurrected by demons and angels. That Dean went to hell to save his brother's life, and that Sam ended the apocalypse by dragging himself down with Lucifer. Demons resurrected Sam when Dean traded his soul, and Angels saved Dean. And it keeps happening. I think the count on how many times they've died is a little off, but both boys have definitely been to hell and back."

"It's just another rumor," Chris started to say, but he was cut off.

"No, it isn't." The pack whirled around to face the speaker, and were startled to find Stiles standing there. They were so wound up in their conversation that they had barely registered being able to hear his heartbeat again. Now he stood facing them, sheepish and unsure of himself. "Well," he said, hyperaware of the defensive stances the wolves were taking, and Chris Argent's twitch towards his gun, "looks like I have some explaining to do."