Through the Never - BtVS/Supernatural/Angel - 6/10
Title: Through the Never
Author: twisted_slinky
Artist: sarah_jones
Crossover: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel/Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Season 6 for SPN. Post S7 for BTVS. Sam is having an out of body experience, and it seems the only person who can help him is a girl who's rather experienced in being a glowing ball of light. Sam/Dawn.
Warnings: Violence, language, innuendos, and some non-explicit sexual encounters of the het variety. Spoilers for BTVS and Angel all seasons; spoilers for SPN through season 6.
Wordcount: ~43k
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural or Angel. Written for fun, not profit.
Link to Story Masterpost: http://twisted-slinky.livejournal.com/32939.html
Link to Art Masterpost: http://sarah-jones.livejournal.com/105137.html (or see it on her website here)
A/N: Just a reminder before we go on. Dimensional time shift equals weird setting change. The SPN portion of this story will be set, from this point on, directly after "Clap Your Hands if You Believe" and before "Caged Heat." Which means Crowley's so-called "death" and Meg's interaction with the boys hasn't happened yet, and Dean and Robo-Sam are between epi-jobs. Dawn's interference with the universe, as well as Sam's non-Hell-broken soul, takes the season storyline AU from here.
Chapter 6: Never Ever Land
The shit had hit the fan decidedly faster than she'd expected, and she hadn't even made it to the necromancer's.
Dawn tried to keep herself calm, collected, as she slipped out onto the sidewalk. It wasn't a particularly busy part of Sacramento, even midday, but she'd parked a couple blocks down to keep some space between herself and the pub. It was a smart move, in theory.
She slowed to a stop, trying to keep her eye off the back of the car she'd borrowed from Professor Pool. Maybe borrowed wasn't the right word. The poor professor had the cheapest, oldest, and easiest to break in to Buick, and he'd parked in front of the coffee shop closest to Dawn's apartment. Misfortune on his end.
Sam was way too helpful when it came to stealing cars. She was going to have to have a serious conversation with his brother about their criminal activities if she ever met this famed Dean Winchester.
"Crap," she muttered, pretending to dig into her purse for some lost item. Sam was glowing up at her. "Problem," she whispered.
'Joey following you?'
"No, up ahead. There's something hiding around the corner where we parked. I just caught a glimpse…a shift in the shadows, but still."
'Don't chance it. Jay walk. Now.'
Dawn took a slow jog across the street, behind a bus that was easing to a stop light, and started down the opposite direction. She kept the flap over Sam but lifted him up so that a small sliver of light escaped out of either side of the purse.
"You see anything?" she asked, under her breath.
'Something moved behind the car…'
"Bigger than a bread box?"
'How could they know where we are? Who did Joey call? Couldn't have been your sister yet, right? And-oh. Oh, boy. No, that's definitely not your sister. Dawn-run. Run!'
Dawn wanted to argue that no self-respecting demon would go out mid-day in a crowded city and chase her down. She wanted to. Instead, she took off, sneakers slapping pavement, and ran around a corner, making a block past a salon and a pawn shop. If her pursuer was this bold, she doubted it would be a good idea to lead him into a public shop. Instead she caught sight of an empty lot, unfenced, and dove across a street toward it.
'I don't see him-he's fast. Like dart from one alleyway to the next, fast.'
"Oh, yay for him," Dawn huffed, and slid to a stop behind a building, her back pressed against cool brick. Her breathing was too loud, and she tried to control it. She let Sam drop against the scarf in her bag and pulled her phone out from beside him.
She'd turned it off completely before making her run for it, but she could already predict the number of messages awaiting her. Buffy was almost two and half hours away, probably cussing a blue streak that all of Palo Alto could hear if she'd already discovered that her sister was missing, but calling for back-up was the only option. Dawn's racing heart rattled her chest as she waited the few necessary seconds for the phone to load up. Not enough time.
'Dawn, do you hear something?'
Besides her own heartbeat? Dawn's eyes widened. Now that he mentioned it, she could hear a faint sound coming from inside the building beside the lot. It sounded like a chant, low, rumbling. She'd almost brush it off as some psychedelic rock playing on an oldies radio station if there'd been even a hint of music to it. No, it sounded like one person. And the words-was that a spell?
Dawn didn't have time to consider it. A shadow fell over her. From above.
She jumped away from the building with a cry, just in time for the creature above to land on her back. The blow sent her purse flying in one direction, her cell phone in the other, and knocked the air out of her lungs. She gasped for breath, a fish out of water, then wished she hadn't when the ribs against the graveled lot announced that they were indeed bruised.
A ripping sound from behind stirred her from her haze-whatever had landed had claws that were apparently stuck in the go-bag at her back. She was suddenly happy she'd had the foresight not to leave her stuff in the stolen car.
'Dawn, watch out!'
She rolled out from under the creature, just as it freed one paw and scraped its talons through the ground. Pushed up onto her elbows, she got a decent look at the demon. It was clothed like a human, probably easy to mistake for one late at night with its long black jacket to cover the three seven-inch nails curving out from its deformed hands. The monster's face was piggish, snouted, with long tusks growing from the jaundice skin of its joules and digging into its fat cheeks. Dark, beady eyes stared out at her in rage.
"You come with me," it growled.
"Hope that's not your only pick-up line."
Dawn hoped her sister would be pleased with her choice in final words. She threw herself back, barely out of swiping range. The monster would be back on its feet before her, and-her gaze drifted to her purse, where Sam had rolled out and the creature noticed. It laughed.
"Soul, too," he assured, in that same rumbling voice.
'Dawn, get out of here!' Sam snapped. 'Leave me!'
Dawn realized the painful lump digging into her elbow was the cell phone, thrown in the hit. She pressed a number, dialing her sister, out of habit, and scrambled to her feet. Running was always a good plan, sure, but her weapons were in her purse, right by Sam, and she wasn't leaving without either. Pig monster or no pig monster.
The creature took advantage of her hesitation and lunged. She dove beneath his arm, but the move wasn't quick enough. His talon clipped her shoulder, and she cried out when the nail yanked free again, taking half her jacket with it. A warm stream of wetness slid down her shoulder, through her sleeve, but she didn't stop to get a look at the wound. Instead, she took advantage of the creature's confusion at the miss.
"Dawn, is that you?" She barely registered that the voice was coming from the phone she'd just dropped and definitely wasn't Sam's.
"Buffy, someone's after me!" she cried, but couldn't make a move for the phone. "Joey the Drooler-"
"Dawn, just hold on. Help's on the way."
The frustrated creature's massive boot had stomped on the plastic cover, silencing her sister's voice.
Dawn let herself fall to the ground and rolled over, snatching her purse, and Sam, with one sweep of her good arm. But, the monster had finally yanked free the pleather strip trapping his appendage. He growled, hunched forward and ready to charge. Dawn could see it in her mind, how easy it would have been for her sister, or any other slayer, to hop to their feet, make a quick dodge, and be out of danger in seconds. But, as well-trained as she was, Dawn wasn't a slayer.
She braced, ready to take the hit, and curled in on herself, her eyes open just enough to see that the orb's bright glow was marred by rolling tears of red, her blood, dripping down from her wound and onto the crystal surface.
'What's happening? Are you doing this?'
"I don't know. It's not supposed to happen like this…"
Dawn's eyes widened, her thumb sweeping at the slick stain, but the heat off the orb was growing in intensity, flushing her wind-chilled face faster than the adrenaline pumping through her body. White light blinded her. The sound of the pig-monster's growling faded away. Then, the world faded with it.
Hell.
It was the first thought Sam Winchester had upon…waking? He wasn't sure what had happened, but it felt as if a vortex had opened up beneath him, sucking him under the skin of the world. Twisting, pulling, then, nothingness. Landing had felt like having the wind knocked out of his body, if he'd had a body. He didn't. No, he was still staring out at the world through curved glass, without eyes. Hearing, without ears. Speaking, without a mouth.
That shouldn't have comforted him, but it did. If he were in Hell, he was fairly certain Lucifer would have already molded his soul into a shape that was more fun to torture. Crystal balls simply weren't meant for Satan's favorite past-times.
No, the world was dark, not because he was Down Under, but because it was nighttime. Awareness crept over him, and he took in the pale moonlight casting down from above, the looming black-on-black shadow of a close, barren tree, thick blades of grass blocking most of his surrounding view from sight.
Then he remembered that he wasn't supposed to be alone.
'Dawn!'
There were noises in the distance, some sort of ruckus. A fight, but it sounded too far away. Dawn had been right over him when… And then it struck him. That feeling of twisting and turning and nothingness-that was what he felt when he was pulled from Hell. Which could mean only one thing. He'd traveled across dimensions. Again.
He couldn't be sure, of course. A feeling was just a feeling. But, still, something inside told him he was back where he belonged. He felt…stronger. More himself.
"Sam?"
Dawn's face appeared above him. Her eyes were glazed, her face paler than usual. And he figured some of the green he was seeing was caused by nausea and not her energy.
"Can we not do that again?" she said, in a breathless voice, and scooped him up.
She was still sitting in the grass, her knees muddy where she must have landed, purse strap wrapped around her wrist, the weight of the other bag the only thing keeping her spine straight. Blood streamed down her fingertips, dark and glistening in the night, and Sam could see where her jacket had been ripped off, the cloth of her sweater torn. She'd need help, and soon.
'You've got to get up, Dawn. You can't afford to get stranded while you're bleeding that heavily.'
Dawn blinked at him, confused, then looked over her shoulder, at the deep cut. "Oh." She was still dazed, and she shook her head to clear out the cobwebs. "Where's…Sacramento?"
'I don't think we're in Kansas anymore,' Sam commented, then had to stop himself from laughing like a madman, because this could actually be Kansas, his Kansas.
While it was by no means bright out, he could see that they were close to a large barn and concrete silo. Further off, yellow light streamed out of an old two-level house's covered windows. The sounds he'd noticed earlier must have come from the house, but he couldn't hear it anymore. This could have been any farm place in any state in the Continental. Sam had been to a number of properties just like it, but he didn't recognize anything about this one.
"Oh my God…" Dawn's eyes widened. Something must have clicked for her. "Sam, are we still in my dimension?"
'Uh. No? At least, I don't think so.' He wanted to say more, promise her that she'd be fine, and home before fourth-meal, but he was too busy staring at the blood soaking through her sweater. 'You're injured, Dawn. We need to move. Stand up. Keep your voice down.'
"Shouldn't we be going toward the house?" Nevertheless, the question came out as a whisper. She stood at a crouch, keeping low to the ground. "Isn't that part of getting help?"
Sam had already considered that one. When he left the world…well, he hadn't left it in the best shape. For all he knew, the dimension was still suffering fallout from the would-be Apocalypse. Better not to trust the locals. 'Good idea. Your luck's been great so far today. I'm sure it'll turn out that we crash landed at a farm owned by the Kent family. Let's go see if they have a phone.'
Dawn relented. "Point made, bubble boy. There's no reason to be a smartass. Or make Smallville references-ever."
'I just don't want to take any chances.'
Sam hoped she could read between the lines. She must have, because she gave him a crooked, if pained, smile. "Thanks."
'Let's go to the front of the barn, see if we can spot a vehicle at the house. Someone's definitely home.'
"So, we steal another car?"
'Right out of the John Winchester Parenting Manual. We get on the road, and we can call Bobby's place. I…'
Sam had forgotten. For a split second, he'd forgotten. Bobby was dead. Yeah, he'd seen Castiel in Hell, but not in Jimmy Novak's form-Jimmy's body had been painting the grass, thanks to him. The past few months, spent with Dawn, he'd been so focused on getting back to all that remained, or all that he hoped remained, of his life: Dean. He hadn't given himself a chance to really grieve the losses he already knew he'd suffered, to really think about how taking the leap into Hell a few minutes earlier would have saved lives.
He pushed it all down. Later. Dawn needed him now.
'I meant, Dean. We'll call Dean's old numbers. See if we catch a break.'
"Dean's alive," Dawn said, so softly it was almost lost.
Sam took the reassurance. He'd rather lie to himself at this point. 'We'll find him or someone else. Some hunters. If not, I'll have you set up a summoning for Castiel. Maybe he's taken on another vessel. We'll find help. Just not here.'
Dawn stopped in the shadow of the building. She didn't have to voice why. Sam had heard it too, the unmistakable sound of a footfall. There was no way they could stay hidden with him glowing like a giant firefly. 'The barn?'
Dawn nodded and pushed her way past the ajar back door. They were already inside by the time they realized his light wasn't the only one shining in the dark. The faint fire of an oil lamp lit up the far corner of the barn, and in it, Sam spotted a figure hunched forward over a body.
'We need to go.'
Dawn took the advice without another word, but the door behind her wasn't so kind. It let out a sharp squeal before she could step past it. The hunched figure stood quickly, glancing over its shoulder at the intruders. Its face was male, Caucasian, middle-aged, and could have belonged to any clerk, farmer, or factory worker, if it weren't for the blood smeared down its chin, over its cheeks. Even in the distance, the creature was a direct duplicate of the half-eaten corpse at its feet.
'Crap. It's got to be a ghoul. Go for the head, Dawn!''
Dawn didn't bother with the small weapons in her purse. She made a move for the pitchfork hanging to her right, and the ghoul made the same shuddered movement, as if mocking her. Every inch she took, he took. Sam could see it in the creature's eyes. It was having fun, waiting for just the right moment to leap forward.
"You're pretty," it said. A genuine compliment. "And fresh."
"I haven't had a bath all day, buddy. I somehow doubt I'm very fresh at the moment."
Stalling wasn't going to help. Sam saw the opening, though. 'Now!'
Only, as soon as her hands wrapped around the wooden handle, the ghoul's head exploded out in a red spray, the thunder of the gunshot echoing off the barn walls. Dawn froze in place, her breath panicked, quickened by the sound and the splatter of gore.
Standing at the now open front doors of the barn was the looming shape of a tall man, the lamp light glistening off of his shotgun. He took a step inside, the twelve gauge leveled on Dawn. Sam couldn't process his expression for a moment. It was one he'd never seen, no matter how many times he'd looked in the mirror.
The man was Sam Winchester, his eyes bright with excitement, and a cold, professional smile at his lips. "Guess I counted wrong," he stated, as if commenting on the weather. "One and done," he added.
Dawn stared at him, utterly confused by the weapon trained on her. "But I…"
Sam wasn't confused though, not anymore. The man was him, sure. Sans soul. And that grin was not a good thing.
'Dawn, run. Now.'
Sam Winchester was one scary mofo. Dawn hadn't really considered this when she'd seen Dream-Sam. He'd been huge, sure. Broad shouldered, most definitely. But, what had been hot about his form then was suddenly terrifying.
Sammy-no-soul was hard muscled, armed, and deadly. He had years, weight, and height on her. And, all Dawn had was a two second head start.
She didn't need to be told to haul ass, but the soul in her hand was spouting out a steady stream of encouragement as she threw herself past the barn's back doors, feeling the air off a blast in the wood beside her head. Splinters clung to her hair as she ducked, her feet keeping their speed as she rounded the side of the building.
'We need to get to the house, Dawn! See if the car's here. We need to-'
Dawn rolled her eyes-sure, now he wanted to go to the house instead of the ghoul-infested barn. Great.
"Come out-I just want to talk..."
The words were so familiar, so faint, her first instinct was to glance down at the orb, but she realized a split second later it was his body talking, trying to force her into a panic. Well, too damn late. Summers girls weren't that easy to catch.
"Fine." Sam's sigh was familiar, but there was a cold uncaring to it that was entirely alien. His voice was coming from the yard behind the barn. "Come out, and I promise I'll make this fast."
Instead of increasing her speed, she slowed down at the shadow of the silo, slipping beside the massive, standing cylinder in hopes that Soulless-Sam and Soulful-Sam would be of a like mind, believing she would head toward the house. But, the hunter at her tail had slowed down as well. She could hear him, his heavy boots softly crunching gravel and grass as he checked out the side of the barn.
'Dawn. I need you to listen to me, okay. I need you pull out your knife.'
She winced, knowing what he was about to tell her to do, and without another thought, she shook her head in refusal.
'You're going to have to hurt me, Dawn. You might even have to-'
He was right. She knew he was right. Dawn glanced down at the entry to the grain feed, seeing the tools left propped against its base. Without hesitation, she reached out for the closest. Then she heard it: the bootsteps had stopped right beside the silo.
There were supposed to be four ghouls. A family. Dean had insisted on the stake-out to make sure there were just the four, to Sam's chagrin-Jesus, it wasn't like it was anything hard they were hunting. But Sam had went along with his so-called "brother," just to get him to shut up.
It was getting tiresome, really. Listening to Dean go on and on about souls and how damned important they were… Sam wasn't sure exactly how he was supposed to feel about that, but the truth was, he didn't feel anything about it. He should, probably, have been offended by the number of times the other hunter, and his pet angel, had referred him as if he were something less than human. But he wasn't, not really.
If being less than human, more of an animal, meant being a better hunter, then so be it. At least until he had his soul back to slow him down.
Dread stirred in his stomach. Sam wasn't sure about Dean's reasoning for pulling it from the Pit, which was why it had been more than easy to ignore the leprechaun's offer to find that missing piece for him during their last hunt.
Not that Sam was going to tell Dean that just yet. While he was still hunting with the whiny bag of bones, he knew to keep his mouth shut. Play pretend, just like he'd been doing for so long.
The problem with Dean though…The real problem with Dean was that he didn't seem to get any thrill out of the hunt anymore. Sam's smile widened, and he lifted the rifle higher. Like now, for instance. A boring hunt that Dean had boringly halved with him ("I take the two inside the house, you get the two circling outside-don't friggin' argue with me.") had suddenly become a little more entertaining.
"Come out, come out, where ever you are," he called.
Sam had taken care of the first ghoul with a machete, keeping quiet for the main event. And, when he'd raised his gun on the second one, inside the barn, he'd been disappointed at how quickly he'd finished up. Then he'd spotted her, the girl standing dumbfounded at the back of the barn, blood covering half her torso, a round light of some sort in her hand.
She was cute, too. A perfect waste of a nice ass. He had to commend her taste in last meals.
And she'd run.
Now, Sam couldn't say it gave him pleasure to have to chase her, but it did give him a certain satisfaction, putting some effort into the hunt.
He spotted the faint glow from behind the silo and had to stifle another sigh. So much for effort. Sam considered calling out again, making her jump out of her dead skin, but he knew Dean was likely already cleaning up his half of the hunt. Time to cut the game short.
Sam rounded the silo quickly, rifle taking aim-and found a bag, a full satchel with a glowing crystal ball sitting beside it. A distraction.
As soon as it sunk in, Sam twisted around, eyes wide.
"Sorry, Sam."
He took the butt of the shovel to his head and collapsed to the ground, the rifle sliding from his grasp. The ghoul girl swung again, the bong of the metal against his skull still ringing in his ears from the first blow. He couldn't block the second. A second later, his vision grayed, and he fell to his elbows, then face first into spilled grain, too dazed to move.
READ CHAPTER 7