Destiny - Part 9
Part of the http://zannes.livejournal.com/5304.html John/Illyria 'verse
Rating: R (overall)
Genre: Gen, Het, Supernatural/Angel/Firefly crossover
Pairing: John/Illyria
Characters: Firefly crew
Summary: John and Illyria finally have to deal with the Demon that destroyed his family. Will they be able to save John's descendants from the Demon's wrath? (bad language/sexual situations)
Author's Notes: Thanks to hakirby and lyonie17 for their continued beta-ing prowess. Hakirby is entirely responsible for all the added porn and lyonie17 is responsible for turning my modern-day English into Fireflyese. The Chinese translations are up for grabs. I trusted various websites to get those. Kripke owns the Winchesters and Whedon owns both Illyria and Firefly. The lovely icon belongs to lyonie17.
Part 9...
“We have to go to Ita Moon,” River insisted. “It’s there. Waiting, growing fat like a leech suckling on all the death around it.”
“How do you know this, mei-mei?” Simon began. “Why…?”
“Don’t gotta be a fancy-vest book-learned Doc, just take a look at ‘er,” Jayne snorted, looking up from cleaning his gun.
John kept his distance across the room, watching River’s frenzy grow with every passing second. The girl ran recklessly around the common room, stopping to pull at her hair as she started whimpering, soft moans of distress interspersed with sharp cries of manic glee.
Simon struggled to take her down, Zoe murmuring, “She’s getting worse.”
John’s eyes glittered darkly in the shadows as Simon sedated his sister, her struggles growing weaker as she rambled about pain and blood and fire. Illyria regarded John watchfully, her face blank of expression.
“We have no other leads,” John grumbled, his low voice taking on a sinister edge that cut through the arguing and stilled the others. “Go tell the Captain we’ve got a new course.” When Zoe hesitated, John turned his hard gaze to hers and said with a subtle undercurrent of warning, “Now.”
John caught Illyria’s eye and his face wavered, softening into something familiar as he tossed a comforting smile her way. Illyria nodded curtly, still expressionless as she turned her head away to gaze out the portal into the endless sparkling expanse of the black.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The crew huddled in a haphazard clump several yards from Serenity, nervous without quite being able to pinpoint why except that they were going into battle with only one working weapon and one bullet to fight a creature that had been killing their bloodline with reckless and joyful abandon. Even River had been dragged from her infirmary bed, as drugged as she was, and was standing unsteadily next to Simon who was propping her up with one arm. John had deemed it unwise to leave anyone behind and vulnerable to potential attack, so had ordered that they all follow him into the dry, baking heat that made the dirt coat their sweat-dampened skin like a fine coating of cornmeal.
The scent of something like rotting fruit and spoiled meat swept in with the gusts of wind, bringing with it the nearly overwhelming smell of ash and smoke, hinting that something unpleasant was lingering over the horizon. They had seen what it was as they flew over - a town left in smoldering ruins, bodies left to bloat and to burst open as the scavengers came to dine with sharp squawks and howls - a sign of the Demon’s passing. Over the red-rock hills separating them from the worst of it, they could hear a snarling bark answered by a shrill growling scream as the creatures still feeding began to fight over whatever scraps had caught their attention.
“You gonna share your plan with us?” Mal asked sharply, his jaw tight with tension as he stared steadily at John checking his weapons. The wind blew clouds of dust across the barren shrub-laden mesa, making the crew squint their eyes against the light of the sun as they lifted hands to protect their eyes from the dirt.
John glanced up, looking at the mismatched piles of red rocks that lay scattered across the landscape, eyes flicking from one to the next as if looking for someone hiding in their shadows. “He wants me. I go first, with Illyria following, and you lot stay here.”
John slid his knife into its sheath, keeping the hand on its hilt as he turned to Mal, holding out his hand. “Give me the gun. I’m gonna need it.”
Mal hesitated, his hand wavering over the Colt tucked into his belt, and John’s voice came harsh and clear and urgent. “We talked about this. I have to do it.” John’s eyes leveled with Mal’s. “It’s my hunt.”
Illyria’s eyes fixed coldly on the man standing before them, her hand snapping out to grip Mals’ wrist until he made a muffled sound of pain. She held onto his arm, stating clearly, “No. Do not give it to him. It is not John.”
The crew glanced at her in surprise, eyes widening momentarily before the dust-blown eddies made them narrow their lids protectively. “What the in gorram ‘verse are you sayin’?” Jayne grumbled. “Who is he then?”
John’s eyes closed and he sighed in obvious disappointment, shaking his head in disbelief. As he raised his face up, his eyes glittered gold in a bright splash of sunlight as he said, displeasure evident in his tone, “You Winchester bitches are just so smart. Catch on quick, but never quick enough.”
With a swift lunge, he grabbed the woozy River by the hair, yanking her away from Simon’s grasp and dragging her several feet away. She sprawled by his side in the dirt, the drugs rendering her docile as his huge hand kept a firm hold on her, tangled brown tresses woven around his fingers. The crew pulled their weapons, already knowing they were useless, but some habits were too ingrained to break.
John laughed mockingly, his familiar, open smile looking somehow wrong, like the planes of his face didn’t work together anymore.
“Just give me the gun. It’s all I want,” he explained patiently, flicking his honeyed gaze towards Mal.
“Well,” John chuckled, “that and the special little package Illyria is carrying, but I can come back for that later.” He shook River a little, her body writhing against the dirt as he said with gruff satisfaction, “And this one. I lost a daughter once. She’ll be good company.”
He shuddered with pleasure, his lids sliding nearly closed as he absently rubbed River’s cheek against his thigh. “The pictures in her head, all the blood and violence and torn flesh, make me want to….” John flashed a lazy, lascivious grin at the group standing horrified before him, “Never mind.”
John turned his gleeful gaze back to Mal, saying with a wheedling tone, “C’mon, just hand it over. Can’t shoot me. Magic gun…remember? It can kill anything - even an immortal Guide bound to a Demon-God, I’m sure. You wanna be responsible for killing your Grandad?”
Illyria ignored the intake of breath behind her as Kaylee reacted to John’s taunts, holding Jayne back with a less than gentle shove of her hand. “It was after Bellerophon,” she stated curtly. “River forced you out of hiding - otherwise we would not be here…not yet.”
John nodded at her summarization, roughly shaking the unconscious River again by the hair.
“Couldn’t fight me when he was sleeping,” John chuckled deeply. “So many cracks…so many weaknesses in this particular Winchester. That’s why he was so easy to get to before. But now?”
John beamed wickedly in Illyria’s direction, his gaze sliding over her skin and settling on her stomach as an almost tangible touch. “The biggest welcome mat laid out was because of you, Illyria. John’s worried he’s created an omnipotent monster without a soul in your belly - something that probably shouldn’t be allowed to live….” John cocked his head to the side as if listening, a beatific smile lightening his dark features. “You should hear him inside, screaming that’s not true, but I don’t quite believe him, do you?”
He kicked his toe at the dirt, a puff of dust marking the impact of his foot. “After all, he was willin’ to kill Sam over just a suspicion so why not the known offspring of a full-blooded Demon - even one as domesticated as you are.”
“Play your games with someone who might listen,” Illyria snapped shortly. “I ruled this dimension and spilled more blood than you could ever imagine before you even had the ability to coalesce into a puff of smoke to terrorize the puny mortals that had crawled their way from the glittering ooze that marked where the Old Ones had deigned to pass.”
Illyria’s eyes grew hard, the blue as bright and cold as the heart of winter. “You should learn how to show the proper respect to your Elders.” With a smooth twist of her body, she grabbed the Colt from Mal’s belt and shot before the sweep of her arm stilled, hitting John’s broad chest as he stood open-mouthed in shock.
John looked down at his shirt in confusion, the black stain of heart’s blood seeping over the fabric as he let the limp River fall from his hand to sprawl in the dirt at his feet. A small spark of electricity snapped from the wound, spreading over his skin as he fell to his knees, the look of shock still evident on his face.
“You shot him,” John gurgled, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. “You’re willing to destroy his soul just to beat me?”
“This is what he desired,” Illyria replied, her blue eyes gazing stoically at the bleeding figure of her husband and Guide.
A slow smile spread over John’s dying features, those gleaming golden eyes seeking out Illyria’s icy blue ones. “You just punched your own ticket outta here. I’m impressed.” He nodded his head in her direction, a tip of the hat when his arms hung too heavily to complete the move physically. “It’s not exactly what I wanted, but I’ll take it. John entirely gone - nothing left for either Heaven or Hell….” The creature inhabiting John’s body laughed weakly as the blood fell more thickly down his shirt. “At least I’m takin’ him with me. That’s a damn good trade. ”
With that, John fell face first into the dirt, his body convulsing once before lying still. Kaylee let out a muffled sob, turning to hide her face behind Jayne as Simon rushed over to drag his sister away from the body, tentatively reaching over to feel for John’s pulse before snatching his hand back warily.
“He’s dead. No pulse.”
Illyria nodded, kneeling beside John’s body and settling herself on the blood-dampened dirt, tugging his head into her lap. She absently stroked his dust-caked cheek, closing his eyes with a brush of her palm, her still, white face unmarred by any recognizable emotion.
Kaylee, her cheeks damp with tears, dropped a hand on Illyria’s shoulder. “Shouldn’t we go, Illyria? Jayne and Mal will…bring him in. We should get to the black while we can. If the Alliance shows to clean up the slaughter….”
“I am staying,” Illyria informed her stoically, her white fingers still briskly stroking John’s dusty hair. “But you must go.”
“What?” Kaylee asked, confusion evident on her face. “Cap’n don’t leave folk behind. Ever.”
Illyria tilted her face up and caught Mal’s gaze, focusing her will into every word. “You will go. They will be here soon and you would not survive Their coming.”
Mal’s face hardened. “Who’s comin’?”
“John was my Guide - my connection to this world, my permission to exist. Without him, They will come to collect me and I will be taken to where the other Old Ones dwell.”
“He’s not gonna heal?” Zoe asked, drawing up behind her Captain, eyes already shifting over the horizon looking for newcomers.
Illyria shook her head with a brief jerk. “When I tell you that you do not want to be here, do not doubt my word.” Illyria fixed her gaze onto Mal, her voice taking on an almost pleading tone. “Go. Your work here is done.” She blinked, her eyes boring into his as an undeniable finality defined her last words. “Leave the past behind you.”
Mal nodded in sudden understanding, turning to command his crew. “Let’s get gone. Two minutes, we leave.”
“No, Cap’n!” Kaylee began to protest.
Mal silenced her with a look and they all piled onto the ship, Simon carrying his sister into the safety of Serenity’s belly. Mal stood in the cargo bay as the door to the ship slowly closed, nodding his head at the delicate figure of Illyria sitting so serenely as the wind blew curtains of dust over her and John, the sand around them stained red and Illyria’s blue hair blowing wildly in the wind.
That’s what Mal remembered whenever his dreams dragged him back to the scene - everything in bright washes of color - red and blue and black and white, all buried softly beneath a fine layer of dust.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Rating: R (overall)
Genre: Gen, Het, Supernatural/Angel/Firefly crossover
Pairing: John/Illyria
Characters: Firefly crew
Summary: John and Illyria finally have to deal with the Demon that destroyed his family. Will they be able to save John's descendants from the Demon's wrath? (bad language/sexual situations)
Author's Notes: Thanks to hakirby and lyonie17 for their continued beta-ing prowess. Hakirby is entirely responsible for all the added porn and lyonie17 is responsible for turning my modern-day English into Fireflyese. The Chinese translations are up for grabs. I trusted various websites to get those. Kripke owns the Winchesters and Whedon owns both Illyria and Firefly. The lovely icon belongs to lyonie17.
Part 9...
“We have to go to Ita Moon,” River insisted. “It’s there. Waiting, growing fat like a leech suckling on all the death around it.”
“How do you know this, mei-mei?” Simon began. “Why…?”
“Don’t gotta be a fancy-vest book-learned Doc, just take a look at ‘er,” Jayne snorted, looking up from cleaning his gun.
John kept his distance across the room, watching River’s frenzy grow with every passing second. The girl ran recklessly around the common room, stopping to pull at her hair as she started whimpering, soft moans of distress interspersed with sharp cries of manic glee.
Simon struggled to take her down, Zoe murmuring, “She’s getting worse.”
John’s eyes glittered darkly in the shadows as Simon sedated his sister, her struggles growing weaker as she rambled about pain and blood and fire. Illyria regarded John watchfully, her face blank of expression.
“We have no other leads,” John grumbled, his low voice taking on a sinister edge that cut through the arguing and stilled the others. “Go tell the Captain we’ve got a new course.” When Zoe hesitated, John turned his hard gaze to hers and said with a subtle undercurrent of warning, “Now.”
John caught Illyria’s eye and his face wavered, softening into something familiar as he tossed a comforting smile her way. Illyria nodded curtly, still expressionless as she turned her head away to gaze out the portal into the endless sparkling expanse of the black.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The crew huddled in a haphazard clump several yards from Serenity, nervous without quite being able to pinpoint why except that they were going into battle with only one working weapon and one bullet to fight a creature that had been killing their bloodline with reckless and joyful abandon. Even River had been dragged from her infirmary bed, as drugged as she was, and was standing unsteadily next to Simon who was propping her up with one arm. John had deemed it unwise to leave anyone behind and vulnerable to potential attack, so had ordered that they all follow him into the dry, baking heat that made the dirt coat their sweat-dampened skin like a fine coating of cornmeal.
The scent of something like rotting fruit and spoiled meat swept in with the gusts of wind, bringing with it the nearly overwhelming smell of ash and smoke, hinting that something unpleasant was lingering over the horizon. They had seen what it was as they flew over - a town left in smoldering ruins, bodies left to bloat and to burst open as the scavengers came to dine with sharp squawks and howls - a sign of the Demon’s passing. Over the red-rock hills separating them from the worst of it, they could hear a snarling bark answered by a shrill growling scream as the creatures still feeding began to fight over whatever scraps had caught their attention.
“You gonna share your plan with us?” Mal asked sharply, his jaw tight with tension as he stared steadily at John checking his weapons. The wind blew clouds of dust across the barren shrub-laden mesa, making the crew squint their eyes against the light of the sun as they lifted hands to protect their eyes from the dirt.
John glanced up, looking at the mismatched piles of red rocks that lay scattered across the landscape, eyes flicking from one to the next as if looking for someone hiding in their shadows. “He wants me. I go first, with Illyria following, and you lot stay here.”
John slid his knife into its sheath, keeping the hand on its hilt as he turned to Mal, holding out his hand. “Give me the gun. I’m gonna need it.”
Mal hesitated, his hand wavering over the Colt tucked into his belt, and John’s voice came harsh and clear and urgent. “We talked about this. I have to do it.” John’s eyes leveled with Mal’s. “It’s my hunt.”
Illyria’s eyes fixed coldly on the man standing before them, her hand snapping out to grip Mals’ wrist until he made a muffled sound of pain. She held onto his arm, stating clearly, “No. Do not give it to him. It is not John.”
The crew glanced at her in surprise, eyes widening momentarily before the dust-blown eddies made them narrow their lids protectively. “What the in gorram ‘verse are you sayin’?” Jayne grumbled. “Who is he then?”
John’s eyes closed and he sighed in obvious disappointment, shaking his head in disbelief. As he raised his face up, his eyes glittered gold in a bright splash of sunlight as he said, displeasure evident in his tone, “You Winchester bitches are just so smart. Catch on quick, but never quick enough.”
With a swift lunge, he grabbed the woozy River by the hair, yanking her away from Simon’s grasp and dragging her several feet away. She sprawled by his side in the dirt, the drugs rendering her docile as his huge hand kept a firm hold on her, tangled brown tresses woven around his fingers. The crew pulled their weapons, already knowing they were useless, but some habits were too ingrained to break.
John laughed mockingly, his familiar, open smile looking somehow wrong, like the planes of his face didn’t work together anymore.
“Just give me the gun. It’s all I want,” he explained patiently, flicking his honeyed gaze towards Mal.
“Well,” John chuckled, “that and the special little package Illyria is carrying, but I can come back for that later.” He shook River a little, her body writhing against the dirt as he said with gruff satisfaction, “And this one. I lost a daughter once. She’ll be good company.”
He shuddered with pleasure, his lids sliding nearly closed as he absently rubbed River’s cheek against his thigh. “The pictures in her head, all the blood and violence and torn flesh, make me want to….” John flashed a lazy, lascivious grin at the group standing horrified before him, “Never mind.”
John turned his gleeful gaze back to Mal, saying with a wheedling tone, “C’mon, just hand it over. Can’t shoot me. Magic gun…remember? It can kill anything - even an immortal Guide bound to a Demon-God, I’m sure. You wanna be responsible for killing your Grandad?”
Illyria ignored the intake of breath behind her as Kaylee reacted to John’s taunts, holding Jayne back with a less than gentle shove of her hand. “It was after Bellerophon,” she stated curtly. “River forced you out of hiding - otherwise we would not be here…not yet.”
John nodded at her summarization, roughly shaking the unconscious River again by the hair.
“Couldn’t fight me when he was sleeping,” John chuckled deeply. “So many cracks…so many weaknesses in this particular Winchester. That’s why he was so easy to get to before. But now?”
John beamed wickedly in Illyria’s direction, his gaze sliding over her skin and settling on her stomach as an almost tangible touch. “The biggest welcome mat laid out was because of you, Illyria. John’s worried he’s created an omnipotent monster without a soul in your belly - something that probably shouldn’t be allowed to live….” John cocked his head to the side as if listening, a beatific smile lightening his dark features. “You should hear him inside, screaming that’s not true, but I don’t quite believe him, do you?”
He kicked his toe at the dirt, a puff of dust marking the impact of his foot. “After all, he was willin’ to kill Sam over just a suspicion so why not the known offspring of a full-blooded Demon - even one as domesticated as you are.”
“Play your games with someone who might listen,” Illyria snapped shortly. “I ruled this dimension and spilled more blood than you could ever imagine before you even had the ability to coalesce into a puff of smoke to terrorize the puny mortals that had crawled their way from the glittering ooze that marked where the Old Ones had deigned to pass.”
Illyria’s eyes grew hard, the blue as bright and cold as the heart of winter. “You should learn how to show the proper respect to your Elders.” With a smooth twist of her body, she grabbed the Colt from Mal’s belt and shot before the sweep of her arm stilled, hitting John’s broad chest as he stood open-mouthed in shock.
John looked down at his shirt in confusion, the black stain of heart’s blood seeping over the fabric as he let the limp River fall from his hand to sprawl in the dirt at his feet. A small spark of electricity snapped from the wound, spreading over his skin as he fell to his knees, the look of shock still evident on his face.
“You shot him,” John gurgled, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. “You’re willing to destroy his soul just to beat me?”
“This is what he desired,” Illyria replied, her blue eyes gazing stoically at the bleeding figure of her husband and Guide.
A slow smile spread over John’s dying features, those gleaming golden eyes seeking out Illyria’s icy blue ones. “You just punched your own ticket outta here. I’m impressed.” He nodded his head in her direction, a tip of the hat when his arms hung too heavily to complete the move physically. “It’s not exactly what I wanted, but I’ll take it. John entirely gone - nothing left for either Heaven or Hell….” The creature inhabiting John’s body laughed weakly as the blood fell more thickly down his shirt. “At least I’m takin’ him with me. That’s a damn good trade. ”
With that, John fell face first into the dirt, his body convulsing once before lying still. Kaylee let out a muffled sob, turning to hide her face behind Jayne as Simon rushed over to drag his sister away from the body, tentatively reaching over to feel for John’s pulse before snatching his hand back warily.
“He’s dead. No pulse.”
Illyria nodded, kneeling beside John’s body and settling herself on the blood-dampened dirt, tugging his head into her lap. She absently stroked his dust-caked cheek, closing his eyes with a brush of her palm, her still, white face unmarred by any recognizable emotion.
Kaylee, her cheeks damp with tears, dropped a hand on Illyria’s shoulder. “Shouldn’t we go, Illyria? Jayne and Mal will…bring him in. We should get to the black while we can. If the Alliance shows to clean up the slaughter….”
“I am staying,” Illyria informed her stoically, her white fingers still briskly stroking John’s dusty hair. “But you must go.”
“What?” Kaylee asked, confusion evident on her face. “Cap’n don’t leave folk behind. Ever.”
Illyria tilted her face up and caught Mal’s gaze, focusing her will into every word. “You will go. They will be here soon and you would not survive Their coming.”
Mal’s face hardened. “Who’s comin’?”
“John was my Guide - my connection to this world, my permission to exist. Without him, They will come to collect me and I will be taken to where the other Old Ones dwell.”
“He’s not gonna heal?” Zoe asked, drawing up behind her Captain, eyes already shifting over the horizon looking for newcomers.
Illyria shook her head with a brief jerk. “When I tell you that you do not want to be here, do not doubt my word.” Illyria fixed her gaze onto Mal, her voice taking on an almost pleading tone. “Go. Your work here is done.” She blinked, her eyes boring into his as an undeniable finality defined her last words. “Leave the past behind you.”
Mal nodded in sudden understanding, turning to command his crew. “Let’s get gone. Two minutes, we leave.”
“No, Cap’n!” Kaylee began to protest.
Mal silenced her with a look and they all piled onto the ship, Simon carrying his sister into the safety of Serenity’s belly. Mal stood in the cargo bay as the door to the ship slowly closed, nodding his head at the delicate figure of Illyria sitting so serenely as the wind blew curtains of dust over her and John, the sand around them stained red and Illyria’s blue hair blowing wildly in the wind.
That’s what Mal remembered whenever his dreams dragged him back to the scene - everything in bright washes of color - red and blue and black and white, all buried softly beneath a fine layer of dust.
TO BE CONTINUED...