Entry tags:
SPN/SCC crossover - Demons Versus Machines
Title: Demons Versus Machines
Author:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jebbypal
rating: everyone
summary: Apocalypse, Judgment Day, what's the difference?
A/N: Written for the brilliantlithiumdoll for my own little promptathon. Of course, she didn't give me a prompt, but I still believe she planted the bunny in my brain. This can stand alone, but draws upon a previous story: Saving Greta
word count: 1500+ words so far. The bunny feels like more though, so we'll see if this develops off of a one-shot scene or not.
“What is this?”
“Two unconscious men, salt, and some sort of satanic symbol. Next question?”
John rolls his eyes at Cameron’s terse description to his mother’s question. “This is the safe house Derek said he’d meet us at. Perhaps these are friends.”
“We’re never that lucky,” Sarah replies as she pulls out her gun and motions for Cameron to search the bodies. “Secure them. John, call Derek and tell him the location is compromised.”
John’s dialing stops when one of the men on the floor takes exception to the ropes that Cameron is using. Cameron being Cameron, and the man being a human, the struggle doesn’t last long. But it distracts everyone long enough for the other man to put a gun to the back of Cameron’s head.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Sarah says, gun pointing at the shorter man in the leather jacket. John briefly wonders if she’s talking to the two strangers, or to Cameron. Either way, Cameron doesn’t betray herself, but she doesn’t let the tall man on the floor go either.
“Sam?” the man in the leather jacket asks. The one in Cameron’s grasp just nods a little. John doubts he can do much more than breathe. “I don’t know who you crazies are, but I promise you, we’ll let you get on with your insanity and we can all live happily ever after. Or something like that. All you have to do is let us walk out of here.” That’s when he looks over at John and Sarah. The recognition that flashes in his eyes is all the hesitation that Cameron needs to push the one named Sam away, take the gun, and force the one in the leather jacket to the ground. He goes, hard, and with a loud curse. “Christo.”
“Stop,” John orders, hoping for once that Cameron will actually choose to take an order from him. “They’re probably nobody. Just looking for an empty estate to crash in just like us.”
“No, John. They are not no-one. They are not a direct threat either,” Cameron says.
“So they are indirectly?”
“Only if they fail. Or so they told John Connor and Derek Reese.”
“Listen, lady, I don’t know who you are, but I’m with your boy by the door,” says the guy in the leather. “No harm, no foul, we all walk away.”
“Dean and Samuel Winchester, born in Lawrence, Kansas. Wanted in connection with multiple murders, petty theft, grifting, and credit card fraud. Dean Winchester died May 2, 2008.”
“Cameron, he looks pretty alive to me,” John interrupts. He feels Derek’s hand on his shoulder before the other man speaks, which keeps him from jumping quite so much.
“Dean never was good at staying dead, at least to hear Sam tell it,” Derek explains as he walks across the room to where the other Winchester is lying, still unconscious.
“Given how well you seem to know me and my brother, how about we lose the hardware?” Dean asks.
“Can’t, she’s actually with us,” Derek answers. “Did you two kill whatever you were hunting, or is it still here?” Dean doesn’t answer, and Sam is still out. John is more than a little surprised when Derek actually turns to Cameron. “Injuries?”
“Two concussions, broken ribs, a sprained knee, a torn rotator cuff, bruises, a hair-line fracture to the ulna, and a loss of at least half a liter of blood each.” She actually looks a little apologetic when she gets to the end of the list. “I was only responsible for the hair-line fracture.”
“As much as I like the parlor tricks, my brother and I are fine, and if the guns can go away, we’ll be going.” He looks at Sarah before continuing. “Lady, my dad didn’t care what you were running from fifteen years ago, and I don’t care now. We can just all go our separate ways.”
John watches his mother carefully evaluate the two brothers. “Who are they, Derek?”
Derek laughs out loud, a sound that would be disconcerting at almost any time, let alone in the tenseness of the living room of an abandoned house. “The way they always told it, they stopped the apocalypse, at least, the one that the machines didn’t cause.”
Sam’s pretty loopy by the time he comes around, so Dean lets himself be talked into sticking around for a bit. Mostly, he’s trying to peg in his head how it is that the kid, John, is so young. He remembers Greta – no, Sarah – mostly because it was always a good idea to remember any women that Dad started fights for. Especially since it was rare to see such fights when he was 11. Later, when they were hustling pool, fights became common place. But John Winchester didn’t draw the attention of half the bikers in Texas and New Mexico, as well as more than a few cops, just for anyone. And it’s not like she’s exactly forgettable either.
But John should be older. He was in between Sam and Dean in age at the time. He should be older, but he looks like he hasn’t even graduated high school yet. Probably the same age as the strange girl. The girl that Dean is very glad knocked out Sam before proceeding to take Dean’s gun from him as if he were ten years old. That, he never would have lived down. As it is, he can’t wait to be very far away and able to rib Sam about getting knocked out by a girl. Granted, he’d been concussed at the time, but still.
“You know me?” Greta, no, Dean shakes his head to remove a few more cobwebs. His headache doesn’t like that much. Sarah.
“Seems like you know a whole hell of a lot more about me than I know about you or your son.” At the mention of the boy, her hand goes behind her back where the revolver is. Bad move, Dean-o. “I remember you. That’s a whole lot different from knowing you.”
“Where do you remember me from?”
Dean shrugs, and then winces when he’s reminded of the cracked rib. “Some diner when we were kids. Dad stopped for dinner, but we never got our order because he ran interference for you with the cops when you left. The waitress apparently failed to hear his offer to pay for your orders.” He can tell that she’s drawing a blank on the episode. “Look, it doesn’t matter. Sarah and John, two pretty plain names. It wasn’t like we were looking for you to get paid. Just wrong job, wrong place, and your very, very wrong daughter.” The mention of her daughter draws almost no reaction from her, unlike when he’d mentioned the son. Odder and odder. Dean’s attention gets split though, because her boyfriend or whatever has joined their cozy corner of two. The kids are rigging up a sling for Sammy, and stitching him up. The girl’s bedside manner is just as gentle as her beatdowns if Sam’s winces are anything to go by.
“What were you doing here?” Sarah asks.
Derek slides down the wall to sit next to Dean. He’s not watching Dean’s reactions, but is focused on the scene across the room. “That one’s easy, Sarah. They’re hunting. He never answered my question if they’re finished hunting here, though.”
“We’re in the middle of a suburban housing division. What the hell would they be hunting – yuppies?”
“Go ahead, Dean, tell her. I want to see her face when you do.”
Dean really wishes that humans were as easy to understand as demons and their ilk. The guy next to him is starting to give him a crazy vibe that he hasn’t felt since the last time he spent a week with Caleb. “I never said we were hunting.”
Derek’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well, it’s either hunting, or you’re part of some sort of cult. Which would mean you aren’t the Winchesters I knew.”
Somehow, Dean thinks it’s very important that he and Sam be the Winchesters this guy knew. Although how the hell they’re supposed to do that when they don’t know him from Adam, well, no one ever accused them of having normal lives. “Okay, fine, we were hunting. Demons – that’s what the devil’s trap was for. Of course, we didn’t realize they’d set up in a house with a poltergeist in it.”
Derek was right, Sarah’s face is all kinds of interesting as she takes in this news. “You actually believe this?”
Derek shrugs. “What, just because it’s not made of metal, there can’t be evil in this world? The demons, I don’t know. Never saw any of them. There was a fair share of angry spirits after Judgment day though. Resistance quickly found that it was best to have at least one hunter at every compound.”
“And they were with you?”
“Sometimes. Enough that I know we shouldn’t hurt them.”
“Do I want – Do I need to ask about their apocalypse?”
That question erases any trace of humor from Derek’s face. Suddenly he looks a whole lot more like the girl across the room than her mother. “I don’t know. I never really believed their stories – just thought it was a way to raise morale by making the kids think a handful of folks had already destroyed something almost as bad as Skynet.”
Sarah looks across the room before asking her next question. “Did they know you or John before?”
Derek turns and stares at Dean. It feels like he’s being judged by Dad all over again. “I don’t know. By the time I met them, John was already known. And I’d just gotten out of Liberty City, so…”
“You two are turning my concussion into a migraine,” Dean finally interrupts. Soon, he wishes he’d kept his mouth shut since that attracts the attention of their little nurse. Dean tries to keep his face straight as she gets busy binding his ribs and then attacking his cuts with her suture kit. Whenever he meets Sam’s eyes, his brother’s face says I told you so.
TBC
Author:
jebbypalrating: everyone
summary: Apocalypse, Judgment Day, what's the difference?
A/N: Written for the brilliant
lithiumdoll for my own little promptathon. Of course, she didn't give me a prompt, but I still believe she planted the bunny in my brain. This can stand alone, but draws upon a previous story: Saving Gretaword count: 1500+ words so far. The bunny feels like more though, so we'll see if this develops off of a one-shot scene or not.
“What is this?”
“Two unconscious men, salt, and some sort of satanic symbol. Next question?”
John rolls his eyes at Cameron’s terse description to his mother’s question. “This is the safe house Derek said he’d meet us at. Perhaps these are friends.”
“We’re never that lucky,” Sarah replies as she pulls out her gun and motions for Cameron to search the bodies. “Secure them. John, call Derek and tell him the location is compromised.”
John’s dialing stops when one of the men on the floor takes exception to the ropes that Cameron is using. Cameron being Cameron, and the man being a human, the struggle doesn’t last long. But it distracts everyone long enough for the other man to put a gun to the back of Cameron’s head.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Sarah says, gun pointing at the shorter man in the leather jacket. John briefly wonders if she’s talking to the two strangers, or to Cameron. Either way, Cameron doesn’t betray herself, but she doesn’t let the tall man on the floor go either.
“Sam?” the man in the leather jacket asks. The one in Cameron’s grasp just nods a little. John doubts he can do much more than breathe. “I don’t know who you crazies are, but I promise you, we’ll let you get on with your insanity and we can all live happily ever after. Or something like that. All you have to do is let us walk out of here.” That’s when he looks over at John and Sarah. The recognition that flashes in his eyes is all the hesitation that Cameron needs to push the one named Sam away, take the gun, and force the one in the leather jacket to the ground. He goes, hard, and with a loud curse. “Christo.”
“Stop,” John orders, hoping for once that Cameron will actually choose to take an order from him. “They’re probably nobody. Just looking for an empty estate to crash in just like us.”
“No, John. They are not no-one. They are not a direct threat either,” Cameron says.
“So they are indirectly?”
“Only if they fail. Or so they told John Connor and Derek Reese.”
“Listen, lady, I don’t know who you are, but I’m with your boy by the door,” says the guy in the leather. “No harm, no foul, we all walk away.”
“Dean and Samuel Winchester, born in Lawrence, Kansas. Wanted in connection with multiple murders, petty theft, grifting, and credit card fraud. Dean Winchester died May 2, 2008.”
“Cameron, he looks pretty alive to me,” John interrupts. He feels Derek’s hand on his shoulder before the other man speaks, which keeps him from jumping quite so much.
“Dean never was good at staying dead, at least to hear Sam tell it,” Derek explains as he walks across the room to where the other Winchester is lying, still unconscious.
“Given how well you seem to know me and my brother, how about we lose the hardware?” Dean asks.
“Can’t, she’s actually with us,” Derek answers. “Did you two kill whatever you were hunting, or is it still here?” Dean doesn’t answer, and Sam is still out. John is more than a little surprised when Derek actually turns to Cameron. “Injuries?”
“Two concussions, broken ribs, a sprained knee, a torn rotator cuff, bruises, a hair-line fracture to the ulna, and a loss of at least half a liter of blood each.” She actually looks a little apologetic when she gets to the end of the list. “I was only responsible for the hair-line fracture.”
“As much as I like the parlor tricks, my brother and I are fine, and if the guns can go away, we’ll be going.” He looks at Sarah before continuing. “Lady, my dad didn’t care what you were running from fifteen years ago, and I don’t care now. We can just all go our separate ways.”
John watches his mother carefully evaluate the two brothers. “Who are they, Derek?”
Derek laughs out loud, a sound that would be disconcerting at almost any time, let alone in the tenseness of the living room of an abandoned house. “The way they always told it, they stopped the apocalypse, at least, the one that the machines didn’t cause.”
Sam’s pretty loopy by the time he comes around, so Dean lets himself be talked into sticking around for a bit. Mostly, he’s trying to peg in his head how it is that the kid, John, is so young. He remembers Greta – no, Sarah – mostly because it was always a good idea to remember any women that Dad started fights for. Especially since it was rare to see such fights when he was 11. Later, when they were hustling pool, fights became common place. But John Winchester didn’t draw the attention of half the bikers in Texas and New Mexico, as well as more than a few cops, just for anyone. And it’s not like she’s exactly forgettable either.
But John should be older. He was in between Sam and Dean in age at the time. He should be older, but he looks like he hasn’t even graduated high school yet. Probably the same age as the strange girl. The girl that Dean is very glad knocked out Sam before proceeding to take Dean’s gun from him as if he were ten years old. That, he never would have lived down. As it is, he can’t wait to be very far away and able to rib Sam about getting knocked out by a girl. Granted, he’d been concussed at the time, but still.
“You know me?” Greta, no, Dean shakes his head to remove a few more cobwebs. His headache doesn’t like that much. Sarah.
“Seems like you know a whole hell of a lot more about me than I know about you or your son.” At the mention of the boy, her hand goes behind her back where the revolver is. Bad move, Dean-o. “I remember you. That’s a whole lot different from knowing you.”
“Where do you remember me from?”
Dean shrugs, and then winces when he’s reminded of the cracked rib. “Some diner when we were kids. Dad stopped for dinner, but we never got our order because he ran interference for you with the cops when you left. The waitress apparently failed to hear his offer to pay for your orders.” He can tell that she’s drawing a blank on the episode. “Look, it doesn’t matter. Sarah and John, two pretty plain names. It wasn’t like we were looking for you to get paid. Just wrong job, wrong place, and your very, very wrong daughter.” The mention of her daughter draws almost no reaction from her, unlike when he’d mentioned the son. Odder and odder. Dean’s attention gets split though, because her boyfriend or whatever has joined their cozy corner of two. The kids are rigging up a sling for Sammy, and stitching him up. The girl’s bedside manner is just as gentle as her beatdowns if Sam’s winces are anything to go by.
“What were you doing here?” Sarah asks.
Derek slides down the wall to sit next to Dean. He’s not watching Dean’s reactions, but is focused on the scene across the room. “That one’s easy, Sarah. They’re hunting. He never answered my question if they’re finished hunting here, though.”
“We’re in the middle of a suburban housing division. What the hell would they be hunting – yuppies?”
“Go ahead, Dean, tell her. I want to see her face when you do.”
Dean really wishes that humans were as easy to understand as demons and their ilk. The guy next to him is starting to give him a crazy vibe that he hasn’t felt since the last time he spent a week with Caleb. “I never said we were hunting.”
Derek’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well, it’s either hunting, or you’re part of some sort of cult. Which would mean you aren’t the Winchesters I knew.”
Somehow, Dean thinks it’s very important that he and Sam be the Winchesters this guy knew. Although how the hell they’re supposed to do that when they don’t know him from Adam, well, no one ever accused them of having normal lives. “Okay, fine, we were hunting. Demons – that’s what the devil’s trap was for. Of course, we didn’t realize they’d set up in a house with a poltergeist in it.”
Derek was right, Sarah’s face is all kinds of interesting as she takes in this news. “You actually believe this?”
Derek shrugs. “What, just because it’s not made of metal, there can’t be evil in this world? The demons, I don’t know. Never saw any of them. There was a fair share of angry spirits after Judgment day though. Resistance quickly found that it was best to have at least one hunter at every compound.”
“And they were with you?”
“Sometimes. Enough that I know we shouldn’t hurt them.”
“Do I want – Do I need to ask about their apocalypse?”
That question erases any trace of humor from Derek’s face. Suddenly he looks a whole lot more like the girl across the room than her mother. “I don’t know. I never really believed their stories – just thought it was a way to raise morale by making the kids think a handful of folks had already destroyed something almost as bad as Skynet.”
Sarah looks across the room before asking her next question. “Did they know you or John before?”
Derek turns and stares at Dean. It feels like he’s being judged by Dad all over again. “I don’t know. By the time I met them, John was already known. And I’d just gotten out of Liberty City, so…”
“You two are turning my concussion into a migraine,” Dean finally interrupts. Soon, he wishes he’d kept his mouth shut since that attracts the attention of their little nurse. Dean tries to keep his face straight as she gets busy binding his ribs and then attacking his cuts with her suture kit. Whenever he meets Sam’s eyes, his brother’s face says I told you so.
TBC