FIC No Damsels Here

[shanachie_quill]

Title: No Damsels Here
Characters: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinksi, Scott McCall, Allison Argent, Isaac Lahey, Ethan and Aiden, Lydia Martin, Danny Māhealani, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester
Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)/Supernatural
Series:
Written For: whogeek, irishjeeper (k3nj1ph1)
Prompt: This tumblr gifset and then it just kinda spiraled from there…
Summary: Dean and Sam are used to waltzing into a town, taking care of a problem, and riding into a sunset. None of that prepared them for Beacon Hills.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: implied Season 3 for Teen Wolf, just general premise for Supernatural
Warnings: violence, death of a non-canon character, Dean being Dean and Stiles being Stiles, Derek is possessive, Sheriff Stilinksi is long-suffering
Disclaimer: No one recognizable belongs to me, not making any money off this.
Author's Note: This is one of my stories from my list so Yay! And this is mostly just a ridiculous crossover. There was not supposed to be anything redeeming about it. And it was supposed to be crack… but it kinda developed a little bit of a plot. So I hope you enjoy it.




Sheriff Stilinski looked up as two men walked into his station. Both were dressed in semi-ill-fitting suits, as if despite all evidence to the contrary, it wasn’t their normal attire. They made straight for the desk, flipping out wallets and presenting them to the sheriff. “Sheriff Stilinksi, how are you?” the darker haired one started. “I’m Agent Lupin and this is my partner, Black.”

“Ooookay,” John said slowly.

“We just have a couple of questions for you about the recent murders,” Black said.

“Of course,” John replied, leaning on the desk. “What do you need to know?”

“Well, we’ve taken a look at the photos of the crime scenes,” Lupin explained.

Out of the corner of his eye, John saw a very familiar brown head start to appear in the window that led towards the back of the station. He studiously ignored it, hoping the two FBI agents (or whatever they were) wouldn’t notice it.

“But we’d like to get your personal account, Sheriff,” Black said. “Especially concerning the…” Black trailed off as a noise came from the window, turning to see Stiles’s face plastered in the middle of it. The face quickly disappeared. “Uh… what was that?”

John sighed, tipping his head down. His son might learn to be stealthy one day. “That… would be mine.”

“Ah, is that normal?” Lupin asked as Stiles popped up again.

“Unfortunately for Stiles it is,” John replied. “But you weren’t asking about him. You had questions about the recent murders?”

“What’s a… Stiles?” Black asked, feeling out the name as if unsure.

John smiled. “That would be my son. Who apparently thinks he’s hiding. Stiles!” When his son tumbled out into the main entry room, John asked, “Stiles. What are you doing?”

“Oh, h-hey. Dad! Fancy meeting you here, huh? At the… sheriff’s office…” Stiles babbled.

“You know, that might have worked when you were ten, Stiles,” John said sternly.

“Not so much now?” Stiles suggested. John shook his head. “So. I should.” Stiles appeared to catch sight of the other two men in the room. “Hello, men in suits I don’t know.”

John just stopped himself from facepalming with the idea that it looked unprofessional. “Stiles. Go. Home.”

“Dinner’s at seven, Dad. And no fair working late and ‘grabbing’ something,” Stiles said as he hurried out of the building.

“Is that a usual exchange with your son?” Lupin asked.

“Yes. Now. The murders?” John hoped to turn their attention from his son to the murders in his town and get them out as soon as possible.





“Dad!” Stiles practically pounced on John as he walked in the door. “Who were those guys? What did they want? Why were they at the station?”

“Hi, Stiles. Nice to see you, too. Why yes I’m glad to be home with my only son and have dinner with him,” John said as he hung up his gun belt.

“Da-ad.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m glad you’re home, but seriously.”

“Dinner?”

“On the table,” Stiles told him.

“Is it something I’m going to actually want to eat?” John asked.

“Would I do that to you, Dad?”

“Stiles, I had a very long day. Which culminated with two FBI agents questioning me about murders that I am absolutely sure my son and his friends know more about then they are telling so please tell me dinner is something I actually want to eat,” John said.

“They aren’t FBI agents,” Derek said, walking into the room.

“Really wish you would stop doing that,” Stiles complained.

John sighed. “Dinner. And you two can explain it to me. Derek, you’ll be staying?”

The former Alpha nodded once, saying, “If it’s all right.”

“You’re always welcome, Derek, I’ve told you that,” John said, motioning for the two boys to proceed him into the kitchen. “Now explain to me what you mean by they aren’t FBI agents.”

Stiles started serving up the meal as they sat down at the table; pleased to see Derek taking a seat as if he’d always belonged. They’d come a long way since Derek’s first return to Beacon Hills and even if the werewolf still wasn’t completely comfortable with human interaction, at least he was willing to sit down for a meal with the group he considered pack. “They looked pretty real to me,” Stiles commented as he sat down once all the plates were full.

Derek shook his head. “Might have been at one point, but they both stunk of silver and wolfsbane.”

“So. Hunters?” John hazarded.

“Hunters, really?” Stiles complained. “I thought Chris made it clear that they were all supposed to keep away from town. That the McCall-Hale pack was responsible for Beacon Hills.”

“Apparently these two didn’t get the message,” John commented. “Are you sure, Derek?”

“I can’t be sure they adhere to the same code as Argent, but they’re hunters, there’s no doubt of that,” Derek said.

“So here about the murders?” John asked.

Derek nodded.

“Have you figured out what it was yet?” John asked. “And should I be expecting another body?”

Stiles sighed, poking at his dinner, which was apparently not any more appetizing to him than it was to Derek and John. “No. So far everything Scott and the betas have turned up just leads to more questions. I mean it could be…” Stiles tugged at his hair. “Yeah. Could be like ten different things. We’re working on it.”

“And we’re running patrols,” Derek added. “Scott and I discussed it. We can’t promise you won’t have another body, but we’re doing our best.”

“I appreciate it, Derek. From all of you.” John pushed his plate away. “Stiles, I have no idea what you’re trying to pass off as food, but, this doesn’t qualify. Derek? Pizza?”

“There’s nothing wrong with…” Stiles protested as Derek nodded and John dug his cell out of his pocket. Derek collected the plates as the sheriff called in an order for pizza.





Sam tugged off his tie as he kicked the door to the motel room shut behind him. “Was there something odd about that sheriff?”

“You mean other than his jack-in-the-box kid?” Dean questioned as he pulled his own tie over his head.

“There’s that, but I was more thinking that he didn’t seem… not bothered. He was upset by the murders, but he didn’t seem to find them odd. Or weird.”

“Spell?” Dean suggested.

Sam considered it, hanging up his suit jacket as Dean dropped his own onto one of the beds. “I don’t think so. It seemed like something else. I wonder if the sheriff knows more than he’s saying.”

“Hey I’m supposed to be the suspicious bastard.” Dean dropped back onto the bed.

“Maybe I’ve been spending too much time with you,” Sam commented as he settled down in front of his computer.

Dean tossed a rolled-up, dirty sock at him in retaliation. “So what do we have?” he asked.

“Three dead bodies. If they were all on the full moon, I’d say werewolves, but they aren’t.”

“So what else savages like werewolves?” Dean asked.

Sam considered the question. “Like I said, not the full moon. Or not all of them, just the one. So not werewolves. Not drowned so not kelpie.”

“Stop telling me what it’s not and…” Dean stopped as there was a knock on the door. “Were we expecting anyone?”





Chris Argent glanced over to where he knew Scott McCall and Isaac Lahey were lurking. “You two might want to make yourselves scarce,” he commented. “Allison and I can handle this.”

“They aren’t going to leave,” Allison replied. She jerked her eyes forward as the door swung open. “Sam and Dean Winchester? I’m Allison Argent. This is my father, Chris. May we come in?”

“Sure, why not?” Dean replied with a grin. “Always happy to invite a pretty girl in. Not so sure about adding her father to the mix though.”

“I’m assuming you’ve heard of us?” Allison asked as she entered the room, crossing to the table and taking a seat at it uninvited. Chris took his place at her back.

“You know what they say about assuming,” Dean cracked.

Allison raised an eyebrow at his comment. “Oh you and Stiles should not ever have any contact.”

“Stiles? The sheriff’s kid?” Sam asked.

“You’ve met?” Allison asked.

Sam waggled his hand back and forth. “Sort of?”

“Allison,” Chris warned.

“Right.” Allison brought herself back on topic. “You’re here about the recent attacks. We’re here to tell you that your services aren’t necessary.”

Dean frowned at her. “I’d say they’re pretty necessary. You’ve got three dead bodies.”

“We’ve also got resources you could not even begin to comprehend,” Allison replied.

Sam crossed his arms as Dean glared at her. “We’re not leaving. We came here to do a job and we’re gonna get it done,” Dean told her.

“They’re even more stubborn than I was expecting,” Allison said in French to her father.

“Patience,” Chris counseled, in the same language. Switching to English, he said, “What would it take to get you to let us handle this?”

“What are your resources?” Sam asked.

Allison shook her head. “None of your business.”

“Well, sweetheart, you really can’t expect us to just toddle away on your say so,” Dean said.

“I’m not sure which I’m more offended by,” Allison said. “The sweetheart or you not taking my word that we can handle the issue.”

“Well, pardon me if I don’t want to take the word of a sixteen year old girl,” Dean said.

“First of all, I’m nineteen,” Allison said. “Not that it should matter. And how old were you when you put your first monster down?”

Dean opened his mouth to reply as Allison’s phone started to play Lil Red Riding Hood. Without a word, she dug it out of her pocket and answered it, “News?” For a few minutes she just listened, then said, “Okay. No. That’s great. Call the others? Oh, he did? Okay we’ll meet you.” Hanging up, she looked over her shoulder at Chris, “Stiles got something. He’s transferring the information to us. And the…” she paused before continuing “group is gathering.”

Chris nodded once, turning his attention to the Winchesters. “We’ll take care of this. Beacon Hills is protected by the Argents and allies,” he said. “We defend our own. Leave or you may find yourselves an enemy.”

Without a word Allison pushed to her feet and headed for the door, Chris following her. Sam waited until the door had shut firmly behind them to ask, “So. We following?”

“Hell yes. I want to see who this group this,” Dean said as he grabbed a pair of jeans. “Get changed. Fast.”




Stiles swung out of the Jeep, reaching back to grab his bat as the rest of the pack pulled up. Derek appeared from the passenger side. “So did you successfully run the hunters out of town?” Stiles asked.

“We gave them something to think about,” Allison answered. “I’m not positive we got them to leave, but hopefully they’ll be slowed down.”

“So we kill them?” Aiden asked.

“No, we’re not killing them!” Stiles yelped.

“But we get to kill the shifter, right?” Aiden continued.

“Yes, you can most likely kill the shifter,” Stiles sighed. “I thought Scott had explained to you that. We. Don’t. Kill. People.”

The twins shrugged almost in unison. “Hunters aren’t human,” Ethan said. “No offense, Allison.”

Allison shrugged, not looking up from where she was examining her weapons. “I don’t take offense on most of what comes out of your mouth, Ethan.” She hefted her bow. “Are we ready?”

“Have we figured out a way to track the shifter?” Scott questioned. “Since scent isn’t a viable option?”

“We should be able to actually track them assuming we…” Allison spun around, drawing on the two men approaching the group. Both of them immediately drew pistols and pointed them first at her and then at the rest of the group.

“Sooo. Not FBI then?” Stiles asked. Then he looked at Derek. “Really? A little warning?”

“Not the time, Stiles,” Derek growled in response.

“So this is your… group?” Dean asked. “A bunch of teenagers?” He glanced at Derek. “Well, for the most part. You don’t look very dangerous.”

“Appearances can be deceiving,” Chris commented. “And I thought you were told to leave town.”

“There’s a shifter killing people. If you think we’re leaving and letting a bunch of teenagers deal with it,” Dean started.

“Hey, we’ve dealt with everything that’s tried to…” Stiles started, he stopped as Derek laid a hand on his arm. “We can handle this,” he said.

“I’d love to know how,” Dean said.

“Since you won’t take the word of two hunters,” Scott said, stepping forward. “What about the word of Beacon Hills’ Alpha?”

Sam stumbled backwards slightly as Scott’s eyes flashed red, Dean stepping between the two. “What the hell?” the older Winchester demanded, bringing his gun up.

“Hey! Hey! No shooting the allies!” Stiles said, getting between the gun and the werewolf.

“Get out of the way, kid,” Dean growled.

“Really not scaring me.” Stiles jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve been growled at by scarier than you. And more likely to rip my throat out.”

Dean’s stance didn’t waver, but his look turned to one of confusion. “What the hell are you talking about, kid?”

“First of all, my name isn’t kid. It’s Stiles. And second of all, Beacon Hills is protected by pack and hunter. We work together and we worked hard to get to this point. So if you aren’t willing to work with us, get out of our town.”

“You’re going to let this mouthy kid speak for you?” Dean demanded.

“Considering he’s been my best friend since kindergarten and the mate to my second?” Scott asked. “Yeah. He’s got the right.”

“Pack?” Sam asked, looking around at the group. “There’s more than one of you?”

“More than one what?” Allison asked.

“More than one werewolf?” Sam questioned.

Derek stepped forward, resting a hand on Stiles’s back before he could say anything. “Hale pack has always protected Beacon Hills. Now the McCall-Hale pack and Argents protect it.”

“You work with. You sleep with monsters,” Dean said.

There were growls from some of the wolves at his words and Sam made a placating motion. “Okay, nice… um… doggies?”

“Seriously?” Stiles demanded. “Even I’ve stopped the dog jokes.”

Allison shook her head. “We’re out here for a reason, boys. And it’s not to show off your testosterone.”

“So did you have a reason for bringing the… pack… into this?” Sam asked.

“Other than muscle that is,” Dean added.

“Tracking,” Scott said.

“Tracking?” Dean asked. “With what?”

Derek tapped the side of his nose. “Scent. And we do have a couple of trained hunters.”

“Somehow I doubt that’s going to help since a shifter changes their shape and with it their scent,” Sam replied.

Scott’s planned retort was interrupted by Stiles’s phone ringing out The Scream. Stiles bobbled phone and bat for a minute before setting the bat down well away from Derek and answering the phone, “Yeah, Lyds?”

“Stop calling me Lyds,” she replied automatically. “Where are you guys?”

“Uh, preserve. Maybe three or four miles from the old Hale House,” Stiles answered.

“North? South? Never mind. Your sense of direction sucks. Put me on speaker,” she told him.

“My sense is just fine,” Stiles replied, even as he did as she directed. “It’s your directions that are lacking.”

“Stilinski, you got lost in your own backyard,” she argued.

“Extenuating circumstances,” he complained.

“Keep telling yourself that. Derek? Scott? You guys there?” she asked.

“We’re here, Lydia,” Scott answered. “Along with the twins and Isaac.”

“Good. Danny and I think we plotted where the shifter is headed next thanks to Stiles’s information on the locations of the bodies and…” she said.

“Wait. You what?” Dean interrupted.

“Who’s that?” Lydia demanded.

“One of the Winchesters,” Allison answered. “They apparently caught wind of our shifter problem and now they won’t take our word that we can handle it.”

For a minute there wasn’t any noise from the other end of the phone except the clicking of keys, then a new voice asked, “Have they hurt anyone? Are the wolves okay?”

“We’re fine, Danny,” Scott spoke up. “So far we’ve well… it’s fine. What did you and Lydia find?”






Ten minutes later, Dean found himself walking through the woods with Stiles and the werewolf who’d arrived with him. Surprisingly the boy was quiet as they walked, following easily in the wolf’s shadow. “Hey, wolf,” Dean said after a few minutes of walking.

“Derek,” the wolf replied. At Dean’s confused look, he elaborated, “My name is Derek.”

“Um. Okay. Derek then. Do you two know where we’re goin’?” Dean asked.

The two pack members exchanged glances before Stiles answered for Derek, “We’re headed to the old Hale House.”

“Which means?” Dean questioned.

“At least we know the ground,” Derek answered. He reached out for Stiles’s hand to help him over a bit of rough ground.

“Yeah what’s up with that?” Dean asked, motioning to where their hands were still joined.

“With what?” Stiles asked, turning to face Dean and almost tripping over a tree root. Derek caught him without a second thought, pulling him back upright with a sigh.

“How can you trust him, them, not to hurt you? Not to kill you?” Dean asked.

Stiles looked at him in confusion. “They would never hurt me. I’m pack. And they would never… They just wouldn’t.”

Derek stepped between them, growling lightly at Dean before turning to Stiles and gathering him close. “We wouldn’t, Little Red,” he whispered.

“I know,” Stiles assured him. “Now. We have a shifter to find.”

The county had been planning to knock down the remains of the Hale House, but once Sheriff Stilinski had found out about the pack, he’d managed to get a stay. The house remained, but the worst of the damage had been removed. Barely a shell remained of the old house. At some point Derek knew he’d have to make a decision, but right now it wasn’t that important.

“So what’s the plan?” Dean asked as Derek carefully climbed the steps to stand on the porch.

Derek’s eyes flicked to Dean before his features shifted into his beta form. Dean stumbled backwards in surprise as Derek tilted his head back and howled.

“What are you doing?!” Dean yelped.

Stiles looked to his left as another howl answered Derek’s. “Tracking,” Stiles answered as he began to make a map on the ground. When Dean looked at him in confusion, he explained, “The wolves are making a grid. We use the howls to track where they are.”

“That’s… actually pretty smart,” Dean admitted.

“Told ya we’ve done this before.” Stiles sat back on his heels and look at the map. “So it’s avoiding the House. Malia’s den. And the Nemeton.” He considered the map for a minute. “I’m thinking that actually makes it easier.”

“These things actually mean something to you?” Dean asked, looking at the scratched map on the ground.

Stiles looked up at him. “Yeah. It makes it easier to find the shifter.” He glanced at Derek. “You know where we’re headed?”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah.” Derek leaped off the porch. “Think you can keep up?”

“As long as you don’t try to set a long distance record, yeah.” Stiles got to his feet, hefting his bat.

“Question before we go running off?” Dean asked. When the two just looked at him, he continued, “What’s with the bat?”

Stiles spun it, grinning manically. “Great melee weapon. And despite everything my dad has tried to teach me, I’m more of a danger to others with a gun.”

“And more of a danger to himself with a knife. At least in a fight,” Derek added.

“One time. It was one time!” Stiles protested.

“And ten stitches,” Derek reminded him.

Stiles made a face at the comment, but didn’t argue it.

“All… right… then…” Dean said.

“We good to go?” Stiles asked. “Unless you’ve got more questions to hold us up?” He started to head off in a direction, but Derek grabbed his shoulder and pointed him in another one. “I knew that.”

“Sure, Little Red,” Derek told him with a grin.

“Why do you…?” Dean started. “You know what? Never mind. Let’s go.”

Stiles rolled his eyes as he set off in the direction Derek indicated. “Not sure why you don’t get the nickname, it’s kinda blatantly obvious,” he grumbled.

Derek’s grin was more of a baring of teeth as he answered, “Not everyone knows you as well as we do.” He froze. “Stiles. Shut up.”

“Why would you…?” Dean started to ask.

Stiles glared at the hunter. “It’s a lot less painful if you actually shut up when he says that,” he whispered.

Derek glared at him, but didn’t say anything as he hopped up onto a nearby boulder. Stiles gave him a fond look at his showing off and looked in the direction he was facing. After a minute, Dean asked, “So. What?”

Derek’s eyes flashed as he growled before hopping down again. “There’s… something… that way.”

“Really? That’s helpful,” Dean said.

“It’s actually really helpful,” Stiles informed him. “The cliffs are that way.”

Derek looked at Stiles, clearly checking with him about something. The boy nodded and the werewolf headed in the direction he’d indicated. Stiles immediately took off after him. It took Dean a moment to catch up to what had happened and he was a few steps behind the pair.

The three burst out of the woods into an almost clearing; the cliffs just beyond the opening. Just beyond where they rushed out, a wolf stood on the edge of the cliff, staring at them.

“Not one of yours?” Dean asked, leveling his gun at the animal.

“Nope,” Stiles replied as Derek growled low in his throat. “And wolves aren’t native to California.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Dean demanded.

“That’s the bad guy,” Stiles said as Derek crouched low.

“So I can shoot him?” Dean wanted to know.

“You can…” Stiles started and was cut off as Dean fired.

The shifter leaped as Dean’s gun went off, the bullet passing under his stretched out body. The trajectory of his jump took him towards Stiles who raised his bat, preparing to swing, but Derek’s own leap slammed the former alpha’s body into the shifter.

Stiles kept his bat at the ready, clearly prepared to hit the shifter if he got a clear shot, but equally as unwilling to hit Derek who was rolling around on the ground with the wolf. “Don’t fire,” he yelled at Dean, “you might hit Derek!”

“Kid, I don’t miss!”

“You just did!”

“Cause the damn wolf leaped!”

Stiles let out a growl, not unlike Derek’s, as he brandished his bat. “Just let Derek handle it!”

Dean opened his mouth to argue as Derek’s hand swiped across the shifter’s throat, slicing it open. As he backed away, he growled, “Now shoot it.”

Dean glanced at Stiles, who’d taken the opening, and swung at the shifter, knocking him back and away from Derek. “You heard him! Shoot the damn thing!”

Deciding the best thing to do was kill the shifter and deal with the rest later, Dean brought his gun up, emptying the clip into the head and torso. A minute later, the shifter was on the ground and no longer twitching. “Is it dead?”

Derek was holding Stiles, watching to be sure it was down. “Heartbeats gone. Shifters don’t need wolfsbane to kill them. And that was enough bullets to put just about anyone down.”

“Just about?” Dean asked.

“You don’t seriously think we’re gonna tell a hunter that, do you?” Stiles replied. He nudged Derek. “I’m fine, big guy. You were the one rolling around on the ground with it.” He moved forward as if he was going to nudge it with his foot. “Derek.”

“Stiles.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You wanna call the rest of the pack?”

Derek tilted his head back in answer, letting out a howl before turning to Stiles, “Sure.”

“So how do they know the difference between that one and the one from earlier?” Dean asked as Stiles poked the shifter’s body with his bat.

“Location, duration.” Stiles smirked at Dean’s expression. “I’m kidding. It’s a wolf thing.”

It didn’t take long for the pack to start filtering into the clearing. The twins were first since they hadn’t had any humans with them. They were followed in short order by Scott and Allison and then Isaac and Sam. Dean drifted over to his brother as the werewolves circled the shifter, clearly wanting to make sure for themselves that it was dead.

Dean motioned for his brother to join him. “How was it working with the… wolf?” he asked.

“Fine,” Sam answered. “He seems like a pretty good… guy.”

“He didn’t try to bite you or anything?” Dean pressed.

“No, Dean,” Sam replied.

“You do realize they can all hear you, right?” Stiles commented from near them. Dean contained his jump. He hadn’t realized the human pack member had gotten so close.

Sam turned to the boy, eying his bat for a moment. “So what are you going to do with the body?”

Stiles glanced back at where the pack had gathered, clearly gathering up the evidence of the fight. “We’re kind of used to getting rid of evidence of supernatural. It helps that my dad’s the sheriff and knows what’s going on, but we’ll dispose of the body. And make sure it’s not going to reanimate.”

“Is that something you need to frequently be concerned with?” Dean asked.

“It’s a concern.” Stiles shrugged. “But we’ll take care of it.”

“We’re happy to help…” Sam started.

Dean stepped on Sam’s foot. “Nah, if they say they’ve got it. They’ve got it, Sammy. Let’s head out.”





Derek moved up to stand next to Stiles as the two Winchesters walked into the woods. A minute later Scott joined them. “Think I should send Ethan and Isaac to follow them?” Scott asked.

“No, I think they’re actually leaving,” Stiles commented.

“Have your dad follow up,” Derek instructed after a glance at Scott.

“Yeah, I’m sure Dad can find an excuse. I need to call him anyway and let him know the problem is taken care of.” Stiles dug his phone out of his pocket; Derek pulling him away when he almost walked into a boulder. “Thanks, Derek.”





As they exited the woods, Sam grabbed Dean’s arm. “So that’s it? We’re just gonna leave?”

“What else do you want me to do?” Dean asked. “I don’t think they’re gonna be too happy if we hang around. Once we get on the road, you give Bobby a call and see what he can tell us about the town. Make sure everything’s on the up and up here. Otherwise we’ll come back and clean town.”

Sam nodded as he got into the passenger side of the Impala. It might not be what he wanted; he didn’t think the group was doing a bad thing. But he also wanted a second opinion.


In case you were wondering what all the ringtones of the pack were:
Stiles—Lil’ Red Riding Hood by Bowling for Soup
Allison—Wolves by Josh Ritter
Lydia—The Scream—Won’t Get Fooled Again
Danny—Big Bang Theory theme by Barenaked Ladies
Wolves—Howls
Adults—Werewolves of London