Home is a Desperate End
Summary: A power Sam didn't know he possessed saves him and Dean from Lilith, but plunges the brothers into a world where very few monsters exist, but humans with dangerous abilities walk freely.
Warnings: I have rated this T for some violence and some mild language. I do not plan on exceeding the level of violence than what exists already in both universes, but I can be a sucker for whumpage. At this point, I have no pairings planned for this story. If you have any opinions one way or the other, feel free to say so in a review or PM!
Disclaimer: Rights to the characters and goodies belong to the Supernatural and Marvel peeps. The song title is borrowed from a song by White Lies called There Goes Our Love Again. (Does anyone else listen to every song and make fanvids in your head for them? Maybe I'm just crazy...)
Notes before we begin: This story starts with a slightly altered version of No Rest for the Wicked before jumping into the X-Men universe. I have only watched the movies of X-Men, so I will not have any knowledge from comics or other sources. I think I am vaguely placing this towards the end of the first movie (which I haven't seen in a while, by the way) but events will change rather quickly around the arrival of the Winchesters.
Chapter 1: Deal Breaker
Lilith killed Bobby with a gentle flick of her toddler suit's finger. Her overlarge nightgown dragged on the ground behind her as she stepped around the old hunter's body, the bones in his neck protruding in unnatural ways.
The whiplash of relief—thank God, Bobby is here—to horror stunned Sam just long enough for Lilith to pin him to a wall before he even thought to struggle.
Everything had gone so wrong, so quickly. Even without the Colt, without Ruby, without any sort of cohesive plan, Sam had still felt a sort of manic intensity set in hours before while had Dean tried—and failed—to hide his hallucinations. It was stupid to think after a full twelve months of kicking his heels and failing to find a loophole that some sort of last minute luck would kick in.
The Winchesters don't have any luck but bad luck. Everyone they have ever loved (Mom, Dad, Jess) paid that price. Hell, Sam would have been burning in the pit had Dean not been a self-sacrificing bastard. And now they will both be dragged down on the claws of hellhounds because they had somehow believed that three hunters could take on a demon army and its ruler without backup.
Bobby's blank eyes called them idjits from the ground with none of his usual grumpy affection. He was dead because of them. He couldn't have any affection left for the brothers, for Sam.
"Oops," Lilith said. "My hand slipped." Her giggle was incongruous with the blood still dripping down her face. Who the blood belonged to, Sam didn't know. He hoped the child's parents had at least gotten to safety. He doubted it.
"You demon bitch! I'm going to cut you into so many pieces, you'll look worse than Humpty Dumpty," Dean growled. He was still free from the demon force, standing across the office with his back to a desk full of papers that will never be sorted.
Sam knew his brother was itching to leap forward and attack. If he could get close enough for a couple stabs, Lilith would be dead and Bobby would be avenged. Sam also knew that Dean didn't have a snowball's chance of getting within feet of the demon girl. His only hope was to draw Lilith just a little bit further into the room. A hastily drawn devil's trap was carved into the floor under the rug. A couple feet more and she would be trapped.
Lilith, of course, swept away their final contingency plan with the hand that snapped Bobby's neck. Without looking like the effort cost her anything, she caused the floor underneath of her to ripple, warp, and crack. The lines of the trap were ruined.
Dean flung himself forward with a roar, but Lilith caught him within a step and pinned him to the desk.
"You guys are silly," said the possessed child. "I could have sent my puppies to you guys. You didn't need to come to them!"
Dean made a choked, angry sound and Sam realized his brother was more than just pinned, he was being crushed. A click-clack sound followed behind Lilith, salt and goofer dust blown away on the ground as if being blown by gusts of breath. Hellhounds, he realized. His gut clenched and he scrambled for something, anything, to save them.
"I'll make a deal," Sam shouted. He hadn't planned on saying that, but he didn't regret the words. "Me for him. The dogs can have me right now. Just let him go."
Dean gurgled, an hour's worth of protests in the sound. Had they been safe in a motel room, cold beers in hand and television set to grainy infomercials, Sam would have argued back. Just because you're the big brother doesn't mean you get to be the only goddamn martyr. As that sort of safety was about three minutes away from never existing again, according to the grandfather clock in the corner, he would just have to hope Dean would eventually understand. That he would live to understand this.
"I can just kill both of you right now," Lilith shrugged.
"But you'll only own Dean's soul," Sam's thoughts were running quickly. "Yeah, he's a threat. The best damn hunter now that our dad is dead. And I am sure he will be after you for years after tonight."
"You are not convincing me," Lilith said, a threatening get-to-the-point tone leaking into her childish voice.
"If you leave my soul untouched though, you will regret it. I am Azazel's chosen, remember."
For the first time, Lilith's nonchalant demeanor faltered. Sam drew what confidence he could from the hesitation and continued. "I was chosen to rule the armies of Hell. I'm the last one standing of all the tainted kids and the most powerful," he bluffed. He may not have had any visions or telekinetic instances in the last year, but based on what Ruby said, those powers were merely dormant, not gone. Lilith didn't need to know that Sam did not have control of those powers, though. "Take my soul. Take this deal. If you let Dean go, I will never challenge you. My powers will…they will be yours to command."
Those last words burned coming out. He had fought to never bow to Yellow Eyes' commands and here he was offering everything up to this demon freely. For Dean.
The blue irises of the child bled into a murky white and Lilith stared at Sam. He tried to exude as much confidence as he could while being pushed into a wall. He tried and failed not to listen to Dean's grunts over on the desk. He was still unable to speak, but he was perfectly able to make his displeasure with this deal known through strangled shouts.
"No," Lilith said, her eyes flicking back to blue. "I will kill you both tonight and neither of you will be any threat to me. Say goodbye to your brother, Sam. It's midnight." Sure enough, the clock started chiming.
Sam fought against the force holding him against the wall, watching helplessly as footprints in the salt slowly appearing closer and closer to his brother. "No! No, DEAN," he shouted before the force pressed harder against his larynx. His brother had stopped struggling and wasn't even looking at the hellhounds that he could doubtlessly see in all their horrifying glory.
Dean was looking at Sam, at his little brother who would watch him get torn to shreds before being killed himself. His deal bought them another year, but was it worth this slow death for the both of them? Green eyes locked onto hazel.
"Sammy," he said.
I'm sorry, Sam heard in the word. I love you, little brother.
The dogs were growling. Lilith was giggling again. Between the resignation in his brother's eyes and the demon's bruising grip on his body, Sam had no more breath to scream. He felt tears leak out of his eyes as he realized there was nothing he could do. Dean was going to be ripped apart right in front of him and he was helpless.
Something ripped in his head.
Ripped is the wrong word, but it felt as if there had been pressure building somewhere so slowly that he had never noticed and now, about to watch his brother be dragged to Hell, the pressure…pushed through some barrier. It was different from the visions, as if it stemmed from a different area. Not so much like the gong-striking intensity of a vision, but more like a tidal wive that had been pulling away from the beach for his entire life and now an ocean's worth of something was rushing forward.
He felt Lilith lose her grip on him and he landed hard on his knees. He ignored the pain and stretched his arm out to Dean. It was instinctive. His hand reached out and suddenly he could just feel Dean.
Everything about Dean that he had always known but had never put into words. The hard-headed loyalty. The bone-deep protectiveness. The desires and hopes and dreams of his brother were in the palm of his hand and for a second he felt peace.
Then the pressure in his head became painful. It was a rush, a pounding in his skull as whatever he was doing overextended something and he felt his nose start to bleed. Dean was shouting something, but he was no longer capable of hearing. Or seeing as Lilith's shocked face bled out of his sight in a blinding flash of white.
"Let go, Sam! Let go!" Although he couldn't hear Dean, per se, he could feel his brother's shouts through whatever grasp Sam had on his… Deanness…
He ignored the order and pulled Dean closer. Not physically, he didn't think, but still holding whatever essence of Dean that he had and shielding it against the white and the pressure and the pounding.
Then his he lost his grip and Dean snapped back. He could no longer feel his brother. The white all around him somehow got brighter and it seemed to burn through his skin.
That additional pain along with all of the rest was too much. He lost consciousness just before the whiteness faded away.
In the cold snow of a Canadian spring, miles and a world away from New Harmony, Indiana, an unshaven man chewed on an unlit cigar outside of a bar. He had a week length forced vacation and he figured he could spend it riding a stolen motorcycle on roads he hadn't traveled in a while and polishing his cage-fighting skills. Before he had decided on entering—he knew he would enjoy a few beers and maybe a few punches if he did, but would be faced with an old man's gently disapproving face when the "vacation" ended—a white flash lit up the woods across from the highway.
He tucked the cigar into a pocket and sprinted towards the flash. Although he wasn't sure what he expected—terrorists? idiotic kids?—he certainly did not expect to find an unconscious man lying in the snow, wearing far too few layers to be taking a nap outdoors.
The white flash had ended before he got to the man, but he knew it had originated from here. He flared his nostrils, but could not catch any other scents nearby that did not belong to the man. He knelt down, getting his jeans wet, to check to guy's pulse. Steady and strong, with skin not yet chilled from the weather.
He picked the man up fireman style and headed back to his bike where he had left his cell phone in a bag.
"Guess this means my vacation is over," he muttered to himself.
In an alleyway between a Wendy's and a Stop 'N Slurp gas station in Florida, another white flash occurred, ending with another man slumped on the ground behind a dumpster. Nobody but an older woman in a pantsuit noticed and her eyes flicked to an animalistic gold color with her surprise. She quickly turned her eyes back to an unassuming brown before pulling out her own phone. She dialed her first speed dial as she checked to make sure the man would remain unconscious. Her boss would want to hear about this.
Author's Note: So I've been reading Supernatural fanfics once more and found far too few crossovers to the X-Men universe. Despite knowing that crossovers get next to no reviews, I figured I shall give it a try anyway. This was a spur of the moment, two hours of hurried, unedited writing. Therefore, I don't have a clear plot outlined or anything. However, if you all think this story has some potential, I have a couple more plot bunnies fleeing for cover…
Tell me what you think! Questions? Comments? Please review!