Fic: Things Could Be Worse | SPN/DCU | Dean Winchester, Jason Todd | R | 1/1
Title: Things Could Be Worse
Fandom: Supernatural/DCU
Characters: Dean Winchester, Jason Todd, Castiel (briefly)
Rating: R - for language
Word Count: 1,383
Prompt: for red_handed - Dean and Jason; Resurrection
Summary: After teaming up to fight Killer Croc in Gotham, Dean and Jason compare scars, both literal and figurative.
Disclaimer: DC, WB, and Kripke own the whole enchilada. I own nothing. Darnit.
Author's Notes/Warnings: Happy belated birthday, Kristina!! :D Also, spoilers through SPN 4x04 ahead!!
Things Could Be Worse
Gnashing his teeth, Dean hissed at the sting of hydrogen peroxide being dabbed over the deep gash in his shoulder. "Shit!"
"Thought you were tough," Jay smirked darkly, tending to the wound. "This'll need stitches."
"Shut up. Just... caught me off guard, is all."
"Right," the former Robin huffed. But really, he knew that was probably the understatement of the evening. The other man hadn't been in Gotham looking for a fight - leaving the seedy bar at two a.m. had been evidence enough of that - and no one had been expecting Killer Croc to make an appearance so soon after he'd been put back in Arkham. Jay realized they were both damned lucky that Dean knew how to fight, thought, blood alcohol level notwithstanding. "You make it a habit to take out things like Croc?" he ventured. "You seemed pretty handy with that blade."
Dean tensed as Jason made the first stitch, and shook his head. "You don't want to know."
"Try me."
"Heh. Yeah, I handle evil shit like that all the time. And what the hell was that thing, anyway?" he shot back over his shoulder.
"Killer Croc," Jay started. "Used to be human, but he has some condition that makes him more like a reptile every day. Skin's as hard as a croc's, hence the name."
"Jesus. And he hasn't been put in the ground why?"
"Not how things are done here. He's technically human, so he gets a free pass on life. Ask me, I'd have put him down ages ago, but I don't need the kind of heat that'll bring down on me." He paused a moment. "Not anymore."
The other man shook his head again in disbelief. "Could have at least let me do it, then. I got no history here."
"And have The Bat blame me anyway? No thanks," Jay spat back, pulling hard on a stitch. After a minute of awkward silence, he asked, "What did you mean by 'evil shit'? We got loads of evil shit around here, helps to be specific."
The other man grimaced. "You sure you wanna open this can of worms? I know Gotham's a hot bed for crazy shit, but there's a lot out there you probably ain't seen."
Smirking again, Jay thought of his time with Talia, his dunking in the Pit. "I'm a little more open minded than you'd think."
Dean shifted, eying his dark-haired companion over his shoulder. "Demons. Monsters. Vengeful spirits. Things that go bump in the night. I'm a Hunter with a capital 'H'."
Jason nodded, tight lipped for a moment, then, "Can't say I'm surprised, way you handled Croc... I almost took down a guy with a black skull for a face once. Seen plenty of shit that couldn't be explained."
The other man's eyes narrowed, and he shrugged his uninjured shoulder. "Guess this city's crazier than I thought."
"You have no idea. People have a bad habit of coming back from the dead around here. If death won't take, anything's possible."
"Oh, yeah? What about you? What's your story?"
Pulling harder than was strictly necessary on the last stitch, Jason scowled. "I was beaten to death by the Joker. Woke up six months later in my coffin."
Dean winced as the stitch was tied tightly. "No shit?"
"No shit. You ever hear of the Lazarus Pits?"
"Lazarus what?"
"Pit," Jay repeated. "Kinda like a fountain of youth, 'cept it makes you batshit crazy." After applying antibiotic ointment to the closed wound, he covered it with gauze and tape. "I was shoved into one for a little 'swim' after spending three years as an amnesiac and being halfway brain dead. Wasn't pretty. I was... fucked up for a long time."
"Sounds a lot like Hell," the other man said quietly before slipping his torn, bloodied t-shirt back on.
"Might as well have been. And I've got the scars to prove it," he said, absently touching the long, white scar on his neck.
"Now, scars I know," Dean chuckled darkly. "Been to Hell and back, and all I got for my trouble is the mark of an angel."
"That hand print?"
"Yeah. Better than a lousy t-shirt, but not as good as a souvenir keychain. And being Castiel's bitch hasn't exactly been a fun ride."
Jason huffed, amused. "Wait, you're telling me you've actually been to Hell, and an angel brought you back? I hate to say it, but that just might be crazier than my story!"
"Believe it or don't. I don't care," Dean spat back, rising from the bed in the dingy apartment to go stare out the window at the dark city beyond.
"I didn't say I don't believe it," Jay was quick to amend, standing to follow. "Just said it was crazy."
"Yeah, well, crazy's the story of my life."
"Yours and mine, both. I've been to parallel worlds, seen things... horrible things."
"I've been to the past. Saw my grandparents get killed by the same demon that killed my mom when I was a kid, and later my dad," Dean shot back.
"My mom sold me out to the Joker."
"Ouch."
"No shit."
"My brother's going dark side, too. Got some crazy demon powers that are killing him, poisoning his soul."
"My brothers both hate me. Adoptive father, too." Again, he touched the scar on his neck. "After I came back, he gave me this."
Dean's gaze turned distant. "My father sold his soul to save my life. Same as my mom did for him, and I did for Sam."
"That's pretty fucked up."
A deep breath and a shiver. "Yeah."
The corner of Jay's mouth twitched into a frown. "And here, I thought being the black sheep of the Bat Clan was a screwed up way to live. At least we're not entirely co-dependent."
Turning back at that, Dean gaped at him a moment. "Wait a minute. Bat Clan? I thought you were joking before, but... seriously? As is Batman and Robin? THE Batman?"
"Heh. Yep."
"And you are--?"
"Was Robin, till the Clown put an end to it. And let me tell you, the Bat wasted no time replacing me with a little clone of himself," Jay spat bitterly.
The other man threw his hands in the air. "You win. Holy shit, do you ever win! That is Grade-A, one hundred percent, fucked up."
"Welcome to Gotham. If the crazies don't kill you, the crushing of your spirit will."
"Christ, I'm glad I don't live here," Dean breathed, running a hand through his hair.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Jason eyed Dean with a new curiosity. The other man seemed more broken than he was. "You got a place to crash?"
"Nah. Just passing through," he shook his head. Glancing at his watch, he heaved a sigh. "I should be getting back to Sam, anyway. Hopefully, he's wondering where I am right about now."
"All right," Jay nodded, not so keen to let him go, but knowing he had no reason to keep him here. Really, the sooner the man got the hell out of Gotham, the better. Seeing Dean to the door, he said, "Take care of yourself. And good luck with your brother. Sounds like you'll need it."
"Thanks. For everything," Dean shook his hand, and with a tight smile, he headed out.
* * * * *
In the alley behind the dilapidated apartment building, Dean almost ran right into Castiel. "Dammit," he cursed. "I told you not to do that anymore."
"My apologies," the angel said coolly. "You wanted to know who has it worse than you. Are you satisfied?"
Dean could swear there was a glint of mischief in those dark eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I'm satisfied," he snapped in answer. "That dude definitely has it worse than me. Now will you just take me home, already?"
A smile pulled up one corner of the angel's mouth, and Dean opened his eyes to near darkness, back in the hotel room he'd fallen asleep in hours earlier. Panting with the shock of it, he threw back the covers and sat up. The clock on the night stand read 3:01. Sam was snoring lightly in the other bed.
"Fuck. Cas, you are one crazy son of a bitch," he cursed again, shaking off the remnants of that other world, the stench of a city rotten with crime and the blue eyes of a man more broken than him. Standing, he padded to the bathroom to inspect the stitched up wound that he knew he'd brought back with him, Castiel's reminder that things could be worse.
* * * * *
Fandom: Supernatural/DCU
Characters: Dean Winchester, Jason Todd, Castiel (briefly)
Rating: R - for language
Word Count: 1,383
Prompt: for red_handed - Dean and Jason; Resurrection
Summary: After teaming up to fight Killer Croc in Gotham, Dean and Jason compare scars, both literal and figurative.
Disclaimer: DC, WB, and Kripke own the whole enchilada. I own nothing. Darnit.
Author's Notes/Warnings: Happy belated birthday, Kristina!! :D Also, spoilers through SPN 4x04 ahead!!
Things Could Be Worse
Gnashing his teeth, Dean hissed at the sting of hydrogen peroxide being dabbed over the deep gash in his shoulder. "Shit!"
"Thought you were tough," Jay smirked darkly, tending to the wound. "This'll need stitches."
"Shut up. Just... caught me off guard, is all."
"Right," the former Robin huffed. But really, he knew that was probably the understatement of the evening. The other man hadn't been in Gotham looking for a fight - leaving the seedy bar at two a.m. had been evidence enough of that - and no one had been expecting Killer Croc to make an appearance so soon after he'd been put back in Arkham. Jay realized they were both damned lucky that Dean knew how to fight, thought, blood alcohol level notwithstanding. "You make it a habit to take out things like Croc?" he ventured. "You seemed pretty handy with that blade."
Dean tensed as Jason made the first stitch, and shook his head. "You don't want to know."
"Try me."
"Heh. Yeah, I handle evil shit like that all the time. And what the hell was that thing, anyway?" he shot back over his shoulder.
"Killer Croc," Jay started. "Used to be human, but he has some condition that makes him more like a reptile every day. Skin's as hard as a croc's, hence the name."
"Jesus. And he hasn't been put in the ground why?"
"Not how things are done here. He's technically human, so he gets a free pass on life. Ask me, I'd have put him down ages ago, but I don't need the kind of heat that'll bring down on me." He paused a moment. "Not anymore."
The other man shook his head again in disbelief. "Could have at least let me do it, then. I got no history here."
"And have The Bat blame me anyway? No thanks," Jay spat back, pulling hard on a stitch. After a minute of awkward silence, he asked, "What did you mean by 'evil shit'? We got loads of evil shit around here, helps to be specific."
The other man grimaced. "You sure you wanna open this can of worms? I know Gotham's a hot bed for crazy shit, but there's a lot out there you probably ain't seen."
Smirking again, Jay thought of his time with Talia, his dunking in the Pit. "I'm a little more open minded than you'd think."
Dean shifted, eying his dark-haired companion over his shoulder. "Demons. Monsters. Vengeful spirits. Things that go bump in the night. I'm a Hunter with a capital 'H'."
Jason nodded, tight lipped for a moment, then, "Can't say I'm surprised, way you handled Croc... I almost took down a guy with a black skull for a face once. Seen plenty of shit that couldn't be explained."
The other man's eyes narrowed, and he shrugged his uninjured shoulder. "Guess this city's crazier than I thought."
"You have no idea. People have a bad habit of coming back from the dead around here. If death won't take, anything's possible."
"Oh, yeah? What about you? What's your story?"
Pulling harder than was strictly necessary on the last stitch, Jason scowled. "I was beaten to death by the Joker. Woke up six months later in my coffin."
Dean winced as the stitch was tied tightly. "No shit?"
"No shit. You ever hear of the Lazarus Pits?"
"Lazarus what?"
"Pit," Jay repeated. "Kinda like a fountain of youth, 'cept it makes you batshit crazy." After applying antibiotic ointment to the closed wound, he covered it with gauze and tape. "I was shoved into one for a little 'swim' after spending three years as an amnesiac and being halfway brain dead. Wasn't pretty. I was... fucked up for a long time."
"Sounds a lot like Hell," the other man said quietly before slipping his torn, bloodied t-shirt back on.
"Might as well have been. And I've got the scars to prove it," he said, absently touching the long, white scar on his neck.
"Now, scars I know," Dean chuckled darkly. "Been to Hell and back, and all I got for my trouble is the mark of an angel."
"That hand print?"
"Yeah. Better than a lousy t-shirt, but not as good as a souvenir keychain. And being Castiel's bitch hasn't exactly been a fun ride."
Jason huffed, amused. "Wait, you're telling me you've actually been to Hell, and an angel brought you back? I hate to say it, but that just might be crazier than my story!"
"Believe it or don't. I don't care," Dean spat back, rising from the bed in the dingy apartment to go stare out the window at the dark city beyond.
"I didn't say I don't believe it," Jay was quick to amend, standing to follow. "Just said it was crazy."
"Yeah, well, crazy's the story of my life."
"Yours and mine, both. I've been to parallel worlds, seen things... horrible things."
"I've been to the past. Saw my grandparents get killed by the same demon that killed my mom when I was a kid, and later my dad," Dean shot back.
"My mom sold me out to the Joker."
"Ouch."
"No shit."
"My brother's going dark side, too. Got some crazy demon powers that are killing him, poisoning his soul."
"My brothers both hate me. Adoptive father, too." Again, he touched the scar on his neck. "After I came back, he gave me this."
Dean's gaze turned distant. "My father sold his soul to save my life. Same as my mom did for him, and I did for Sam."
"That's pretty fucked up."
A deep breath and a shiver. "Yeah."
The corner of Jay's mouth twitched into a frown. "And here, I thought being the black sheep of the Bat Clan was a screwed up way to live. At least we're not entirely co-dependent."
Turning back at that, Dean gaped at him a moment. "Wait a minute. Bat Clan? I thought you were joking before, but... seriously? As is Batman and Robin? THE Batman?"
"Heh. Yep."
"And you are--?"
"Was Robin, till the Clown put an end to it. And let me tell you, the Bat wasted no time replacing me with a little clone of himself," Jay spat bitterly.
The other man threw his hands in the air. "You win. Holy shit, do you ever win! That is Grade-A, one hundred percent, fucked up."
"Welcome to Gotham. If the crazies don't kill you, the crushing of your spirit will."
"Christ, I'm glad I don't live here," Dean breathed, running a hand through his hair.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Jason eyed Dean with a new curiosity. The other man seemed more broken than he was. "You got a place to crash?"
"Nah. Just passing through," he shook his head. Glancing at his watch, he heaved a sigh. "I should be getting back to Sam, anyway. Hopefully, he's wondering where I am right about now."
"All right," Jay nodded, not so keen to let him go, but knowing he had no reason to keep him here. Really, the sooner the man got the hell out of Gotham, the better. Seeing Dean to the door, he said, "Take care of yourself. And good luck with your brother. Sounds like you'll need it."
"Thanks. For everything," Dean shook his hand, and with a tight smile, he headed out.
* * * * *
In the alley behind the dilapidated apartment building, Dean almost ran right into Castiel. "Dammit," he cursed. "I told you not to do that anymore."
"My apologies," the angel said coolly. "You wanted to know who has it worse than you. Are you satisfied?"
Dean could swear there was a glint of mischief in those dark eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I'm satisfied," he snapped in answer. "That dude definitely has it worse than me. Now will you just take me home, already?"
A smile pulled up one corner of the angel's mouth, and Dean opened his eyes to near darkness, back in the hotel room he'd fallen asleep in hours earlier. Panting with the shock of it, he threw back the covers and sat up. The clock on the night stand read 3:01. Sam was snoring lightly in the other bed.
"Fuck. Cas, you are one crazy son of a bitch," he cursed again, shaking off the remnants of that other world, the stench of a city rotten with crime and the blue eyes of a man more broken than him. Standing, he padded to the bathroom to inspect the stitched up wound that he knew he'd brought back with him, Castiel's reminder that things could be worse.
* * * * *