Fic: Stray, DCU/Supernatural, gen
Jul. 5th, 2006 05:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jamjarTitle: Stray
Notes: Gen, Supernatural/DCU, no real warnings for content. Thanks![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ficbyzee for audiencing and giving it the okay.
Originally posted over here formonkeycrackmary.
1.
They pick up the hitchhiker in the middle of the worst storm Dean's ever seen, and then some. Rain and sleet and lightning and he promises the Impala good things if she only gets through it in one piece. Sam hunches over the map, like that'll make a difference. The only thing telling Dean he's still on the road is the way the car skids when he hits the breaks.
"Stop!"
Like now, he slams on them, feels his baby swerve turn and by some miracle stay on the road.
"What?" He says, turning to glare at Sam.
"There's a girl back there."
Dean stares at him, then at the straight-from-Hell storm. "You really think this is the kind of weather to pick up strange girls in, Sammy?"
"We can't leave her," Sam says, stubborn as ever.
Dean looks at him. It's stupid to risk it, but he believes in karma enough to know it might be worse to leave her.
2.
The girl is Asian, hot and quiet. She says thank you when they pick her up, then curls in the back seat and goes to sleep. Dean checks her reflection in the mirror, and she's definitely got one.
The storm clears a little and they pull into a diner. Sam leans over, touches the girl on her ankle to wake her up and her eyes open instantly. She slides into an upright position with more grace than most people manage after three hours asleep in the car.
"Hey, we're just going to get something to eat, maybe find out where we are. Are you hungry?"
She nods, grabs her bag and joins them. She hasn't said anything since that first thank you, and Dean meets Sam's eyes. Sam shrugs.
They grab a corner booth. The waitress comes over, shaking her head. "This is no night to be out driving," she says.
"We were just looking for somewhere to stop for the night," Dean says. "Is there a motel around here?"
Sam and Dean get coffee, the girl gets tea, but makes a face when she takes a sip and puts it down. Her movements are sharp, precise. She glances at the menu, but waits until Sam and Dean have ordered, then gets the same for her.
Molly the waitress raises an eyebrow. "Big appetite you've got there," she says. "You sure you can manage a cheeseburger and the chicken-fried steak? This ain't McDonalds, we do proper-sized meals here."
The girl looks at her and smiles, sudden and bright. "I always finish my food," she says. "Nothing to waste."
Molly shakes her head. "Your parents must've raised you right."
The girl's smile disappears and she ducks her head. Looks at her tea, winces and takes a sip.
"Rookie mistake," Sam says. "Never get the tea in a roadside dinner. The coffee might be good, might be bad, but the tea is always awful."
"I'll remember that," she says, her voice serious. Dean tries to place her accent --New York? Not exactly-- but gives up.
He relaxes when she eats. There are lots of ways to tell if someone's evil, but in his experience, only humans will put ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise on a cheeseburger, and then ask for extra pickle.
He spills the salt-shaker on her, just to be sure.
3.
She stays awake while they try to find the motel. Doesn't object to the music, but he gets the impression she's amused about something.
They find the motel, pull over. The girl gets a room, pays cash. Dean watches the girl while Sam sorts their room out. She turns to look at him watching and raises an eyebrow.
"We're leaving pretty early tomorrow," he says. "So if you want a ride--" And he adds an extra grin there, because the girl is damn hot, and just old enough that he doesn't feel guilty for noticing, "then you'd better be ready before eight."
"Okay." She stretches, cricking her neck, then picks up her bag like it weighs nothing.
"So what were you doing out there," Dean says.
"Travelling." Sam finishes signing in and comes over in time to catch this. "The storm came and I got lost. I don't know where I am."
"You were travelling on your own? There are a lot of dangerous things out there," Sam says. He sounds concerned and Dean only stops himself from rolling his eyes by reminding himself that he's probably right.
Her smile is as bright and wide as the one she gave the waitress in the diner. "Yes," she says. "There are."
4.
Fucking son of a bitch, bastard-- Dean hates werewolves. He hates the way you don't know what flavour they are, what this particular pack is weak to until you try it. He hates the way the American melting pot means you get bastard packs like this one, attacking a rest-stop in the middle of the day when no-one would expect--
He twists and the son of a bitch gets his jacket, but not him, and Sam's running back to the car, Dean just needs to distract them long enough for Sam to get the big guns. These ones don't look standard. They're out in the day, drooling and warped like something out of a cartoon, not a real werewolf-- but don't think about that, Dean, focus.
Knife in his hand, one in front, try to keep it there, don't let the other one go behind, don't think about the girl, focus and--
Yeah, how's that, huh? He draws blood, hears it whimper and has a moment to be smug before he catches a glimpse out of the corner of his eye. Three? Three of the bastards? Hurry up, Sammy, get here soon, because he doesn't think he can last long. One behind him and he dodges, but does something to his leg, tries to ignore it, and--
He doesn't see her coming, and the only comfort is that Rover doesn't either. She's beautiful, Xena without the cheesy cgi, somersaults and flying kicks that make Dean want to whistle or whimper out of sympathy, and then he hears the sweet sound of a shotgun.
Sam shoots two, reloads and waits for the girl to step away from the unconscious third, then shoots it and joins Dean in staring at her.
"Don't take this the wrong way," Dean says, breathing hard. "But are you human?"
"Yes," she says, treating it as the entirely reasonable question it is.
"You're sure?"
She looks at him and rolls her eyes.
"You, uh, you're taking this pretty well," Sam says. "Have you done this before?"
She tilts her head, looks at him. "Not exactly the same," she says.
"Okay," Sam says. Looks at Dean. "Okay."
5.
She doesn't look surprised when she sees what's in the trunk. Doesn't look impressed either, though she does look curious at some of the more exotic tools of the trade. Dean gets a bottle of holy water out. Sam looks at him. "What?"
"So she didn't set off any of the charms in the Impala, didn't react at all to the salt, but now she's going to melt under holy water."
"People change. You mind if I...?" Dean says, waving it at her.
She looks curious, but shrugs, uncrosses her arms. Dean gets ready to pour--
"Over her hand, Dean."
"You take the fun out of everything." He gestures and she holds her hand out. He tips the water over and it's nothing, no smoke, no hissing. Not a demon then, but there are other things...
The girl looks at him with an expression he's only used to seeing on Sam. Exasperated. She pulls out the iron poker they keep back there, waves it at him, then shows her clean, unmarked hand, then grabs a handle of the scrap silver.
"Just being careful," Dean says. "Most people can't go head-to-head with a werewolf unarmed and come out on top."
"I learnt to fight when I was little," she says, holding a hand out at waist level. She gestures behind them. "Is that normal?"
"Well, normal..." Dean says, shrugging.
Sam glares at him. "No, not even for us. Not this time of day. Are you okay--"
"Cass," she says, then pulls her T-shirt away from her. It's sticky with something he thinks is probably werewolf drool. "I need to change," she says, then looks across at the werewolves. "They're not normal," she says.
"No."
She looks at them both, frowning. "I think I'm really lost."
They head back to the motel. Cass jumps in the shower first while Dean eases off his boots, rolls his jeans up and checks the damage. Sam tosses an icepack at him. "So?" he says.
"So what?" Dean presses the icepack against his ankle and hisses.
"So, what are we going to do with her?"
"You picked her up!" Dean hisses at him. He hears the shower switch off and Cass comes out, towel around her head and wearing one of Dean's Metallica T-shirts. He'd object to Sam giving away his clothes, but he does appreciate the sight.
Sam smacks him on the shoulder and Dean punches him in the arm in return. What? He was just looking.
He hears laughter and is surprised to see Cass smiling at them. "We're funny?" He says.
"Yes," she says. "You're... you're brothers." She gestures big with one hand, little with the other, then switches until she ends up with both around waist height.
"Hey, I'm mature," Sam says. "It's just Dean that had his surgically remo--"
Dean kicks out with his good leg, hooking so Sam can tumble to the ground.
6.
Missouri opens the door before Dean has a chance to ring the bell, looks at Sam like he's not eating enough, at Dean like he's not making sure Sam's eating enough, and then at the girl. "Who are you?" She says. "I don't know you." Like it means something more than the words.
"Cassandra Caine," she says. "I was travelling. I got lost."
"You sure did. Come in," Missouri says, beckoning them in without taking her eyes off the girl until they're all sat down in her front room. "How'd you end up together?"
"We picked her up, hitchhiking," Dean says. Tries to keep his mind blank, but Missouri frowns at him anyway, which isn't fair, because he wasn't even thinking of sex, or the woman from the bar they'd stopped at just before, and he definitely wasn't thinking of--
This is why he didn't want to come here.
"I can't get a feel for you at all," Missouri says. "You're there, but you're just..."
"I feel here," Cass says. She clenches her hands into fists, looks up at Sam and Dean. "They felt me here."
Dean smiles at her -he does like a girl who knows where to punch- and Sam rolls his eyes at her like she's Dean.
Missouri breaks out the tea-leaves and then, with a frown, the cards, saying all the while that she doesn't hold with them, making Cass stand up, move around, lie down, while Missouri tries to read her. At last, Missouri gestures her to the chair and crosses her arms.
Dean looks at Sam -you ask, she likes you more- and Sam says, "Can you tell us anything?"
"I think so," she says and looks at Cass. "I'm sorry. I don't think this is your world," she says.
Cass nods like she's not surprised, then puts her head in her hands. She doesn't cry, but she shoulders shake and Dean has his hand on the back of her head, stroking like he did when Sam was little, and Sam has one awkward hand on her shoulder. She looks up, breathes deeply, and goes still.
"I don't know... You're here, and I don't have any idea how that happened, or where you should be," Missouri says. "I don't think I can help you."
"It's okay," Cass says. She hasn't cried, but she hasn't moved away from Dean or Sam's touch either. "It happens."
7.
At the motel, Dean gets the manager to put an extra cot in their room. He's not sure how much money Cass has, but she's acting too calm for comfort. Holding it together by force of will and practise, and he knows how that goes, and that you can't do it forever.
She watches them salt the doors and windows and when he takes out his knives for maintenance --every Friday, if they need it or not--, she grabs one and a spare whetstone and joins in. She's skilled, practiced.
"I can't read," she says. "Not well."
"At all?" Sam says, then looks like he wants to take back the words.
"Nice, Sam. Tactful."
"It wasn't-- my father didn't teach me," she says. "He wanted me to focus on--" She gestures at herself, the knife, then the world.
"Do you-- do you want to learn?" Sam says. Dean tries to tell him to shut up with his eyes, but Sam's ignoring him. "I can teach you, or Dean could. He taught me to read."
Ah, hell. "Sam, can I talk to you? Outside," he says, grabbing Sam by his collar and pulling him outside.
"What? I was only--"
"No, Sammy. No." Dean puts on his firmest, no-more-TV, no-more-ice-cream voice and tries to forget that it never worked before. "We are not keeping her."
"I wasn't-- she's alone, Dean. And you saw that she can take care of herself, so it's not like we're--"
Dean smacks Sam on the back of his head. "No! You teach her to read and that's like feeding a dog, you're never getting rid of it and you have to keep the damn thing with you forever, because-- What?"
Sam's grinning. "You know you bought her lunch the first place we stopped at, right?"
Dean looks at him. "Doesn't count, not when it's Lemmy Kilmister's credit card."
Sam's still smiling. "Sure. And you let everyone sharpen your knives, right? Come on, Dean. Didn't you ever want a little sister?"
"Why'd I need another one when I already had you," Dean says. "We're just keeping her while she gets her feet. When she's got a handle on the world, she's gone."
"Uh-huh," Sam says. "Right."
"Stop looking so freaking smug," Dean says, hitting him on the arm on his way back in to their room.
End.
Notes: Gen, Supernatural/DCU, no real warnings for content. Thanks
ficbyzee for audiencing and giving it the okay.Originally posted over here for
monkeycrackmary.1.
They pick up the hitchhiker in the middle of the worst storm Dean's ever seen, and then some. Rain and sleet and lightning and he promises the Impala good things if she only gets through it in one piece. Sam hunches over the map, like that'll make a difference. The only thing telling Dean he's still on the road is the way the car skids when he hits the breaks.
"Stop!"
Like now, he slams on them, feels his baby swerve turn and by some miracle stay on the road.
"What?" He says, turning to glare at Sam.
"There's a girl back there."
Dean stares at him, then at the straight-from-Hell storm. "You really think this is the kind of weather to pick up strange girls in, Sammy?"
"We can't leave her," Sam says, stubborn as ever.
Dean looks at him. It's stupid to risk it, but he believes in karma enough to know it might be worse to leave her.
2.
The girl is Asian, hot and quiet. She says thank you when they pick her up, then curls in the back seat and goes to sleep. Dean checks her reflection in the mirror, and she's definitely got one.
The storm clears a little and they pull into a diner. Sam leans over, touches the girl on her ankle to wake her up and her eyes open instantly. She slides into an upright position with more grace than most people manage after three hours asleep in the car.
"Hey, we're just going to get something to eat, maybe find out where we are. Are you hungry?"
She nods, grabs her bag and joins them. She hasn't said anything since that first thank you, and Dean meets Sam's eyes. Sam shrugs.
They grab a corner booth. The waitress comes over, shaking her head. "This is no night to be out driving," she says.
"We were just looking for somewhere to stop for the night," Dean says. "Is there a motel around here?"
Sam and Dean get coffee, the girl gets tea, but makes a face when she takes a sip and puts it down. Her movements are sharp, precise. She glances at the menu, but waits until Sam and Dean have ordered, then gets the same for her.
Molly the waitress raises an eyebrow. "Big appetite you've got there," she says. "You sure you can manage a cheeseburger and the chicken-fried steak? This ain't McDonalds, we do proper-sized meals here."
The girl looks at her and smiles, sudden and bright. "I always finish my food," she says. "Nothing to waste."
Molly shakes her head. "Your parents must've raised you right."
The girl's smile disappears and she ducks her head. Looks at her tea, winces and takes a sip.
"Rookie mistake," Sam says. "Never get the tea in a roadside dinner. The coffee might be good, might be bad, but the tea is always awful."
"I'll remember that," she says, her voice serious. Dean tries to place her accent --New York? Not exactly-- but gives up.
He relaxes when she eats. There are lots of ways to tell if someone's evil, but in his experience, only humans will put ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise on a cheeseburger, and then ask for extra pickle.
He spills the salt-shaker on her, just to be sure.
3.
She stays awake while they try to find the motel. Doesn't object to the music, but he gets the impression she's amused about something.
They find the motel, pull over. The girl gets a room, pays cash. Dean watches the girl while Sam sorts their room out. She turns to look at him watching and raises an eyebrow.
"We're leaving pretty early tomorrow," he says. "So if you want a ride--" And he adds an extra grin there, because the girl is damn hot, and just old enough that he doesn't feel guilty for noticing, "then you'd better be ready before eight."
"Okay." She stretches, cricking her neck, then picks up her bag like it weighs nothing.
"So what were you doing out there," Dean says.
"Travelling." Sam finishes signing in and comes over in time to catch this. "The storm came and I got lost. I don't know where I am."
"You were travelling on your own? There are a lot of dangerous things out there," Sam says. He sounds concerned and Dean only stops himself from rolling his eyes by reminding himself that he's probably right.
Her smile is as bright and wide as the one she gave the waitress in the diner. "Yes," she says. "There are."
4.
Fucking son of a bitch, bastard-- Dean hates werewolves. He hates the way you don't know what flavour they are, what this particular pack is weak to until you try it. He hates the way the American melting pot means you get bastard packs like this one, attacking a rest-stop in the middle of the day when no-one would expect--
He twists and the son of a bitch gets his jacket, but not him, and Sam's running back to the car, Dean just needs to distract them long enough for Sam to get the big guns. These ones don't look standard. They're out in the day, drooling and warped like something out of a cartoon, not a real werewolf-- but don't think about that, Dean, focus.
Knife in his hand, one in front, try to keep it there, don't let the other one go behind, don't think about the girl, focus and--
Yeah, how's that, huh? He draws blood, hears it whimper and has a moment to be smug before he catches a glimpse out of the corner of his eye. Three? Three of the bastards? Hurry up, Sammy, get here soon, because he doesn't think he can last long. One behind him and he dodges, but does something to his leg, tries to ignore it, and--
He doesn't see her coming, and the only comfort is that Rover doesn't either. She's beautiful, Xena without the cheesy cgi, somersaults and flying kicks that make Dean want to whistle or whimper out of sympathy, and then he hears the sweet sound of a shotgun.
Sam shoots two, reloads and waits for the girl to step away from the unconscious third, then shoots it and joins Dean in staring at her.
"Don't take this the wrong way," Dean says, breathing hard. "But are you human?"
"Yes," she says, treating it as the entirely reasonable question it is.
"You're sure?"
She looks at him and rolls her eyes.
"You, uh, you're taking this pretty well," Sam says. "Have you done this before?"
She tilts her head, looks at him. "Not exactly the same," she says.
"Okay," Sam says. Looks at Dean. "Okay."
5.
She doesn't look surprised when she sees what's in the trunk. Doesn't look impressed either, though she does look curious at some of the more exotic tools of the trade. Dean gets a bottle of holy water out. Sam looks at him. "What?"
"So she didn't set off any of the charms in the Impala, didn't react at all to the salt, but now she's going to melt under holy water."
"People change. You mind if I...?" Dean says, waving it at her.
She looks curious, but shrugs, uncrosses her arms. Dean gets ready to pour--
"Over her hand, Dean."
"You take the fun out of everything." He gestures and she holds her hand out. He tips the water over and it's nothing, no smoke, no hissing. Not a demon then, but there are other things...
The girl looks at him with an expression he's only used to seeing on Sam. Exasperated. She pulls out the iron poker they keep back there, waves it at him, then shows her clean, unmarked hand, then grabs a handle of the scrap silver.
"Just being careful," Dean says. "Most people can't go head-to-head with a werewolf unarmed and come out on top."
"I learnt to fight when I was little," she says, holding a hand out at waist level. She gestures behind them. "Is that normal?"
"Well, normal..." Dean says, shrugging.
Sam glares at him. "No, not even for us. Not this time of day. Are you okay--"
"Cass," she says, then pulls her T-shirt away from her. It's sticky with something he thinks is probably werewolf drool. "I need to change," she says, then looks across at the werewolves. "They're not normal," she says.
"No."
She looks at them both, frowning. "I think I'm really lost."
They head back to the motel. Cass jumps in the shower first while Dean eases off his boots, rolls his jeans up and checks the damage. Sam tosses an icepack at him. "So?" he says.
"So what?" Dean presses the icepack against his ankle and hisses.
"So, what are we going to do with her?"
"You picked her up!" Dean hisses at him. He hears the shower switch off and Cass comes out, towel around her head and wearing one of Dean's Metallica T-shirts. He'd object to Sam giving away his clothes, but he does appreciate the sight.
Sam smacks him on the shoulder and Dean punches him in the arm in return. What? He was just looking.
He hears laughter and is surprised to see Cass smiling at them. "We're funny?" He says.
"Yes," she says. "You're... you're brothers." She gestures big with one hand, little with the other, then switches until she ends up with both around waist height.
"Hey, I'm mature," Sam says. "It's just Dean that had his surgically remo--"
Dean kicks out with his good leg, hooking so Sam can tumble to the ground.
6.
Missouri opens the door before Dean has a chance to ring the bell, looks at Sam like he's not eating enough, at Dean like he's not making sure Sam's eating enough, and then at the girl. "Who are you?" She says. "I don't know you." Like it means something more than the words.
"Cassandra Caine," she says. "I was travelling. I got lost."
"You sure did. Come in," Missouri says, beckoning them in without taking her eyes off the girl until they're all sat down in her front room. "How'd you end up together?"
"We picked her up, hitchhiking," Dean says. Tries to keep his mind blank, but Missouri frowns at him anyway, which isn't fair, because he wasn't even thinking of sex, or the woman from the bar they'd stopped at just before, and he definitely wasn't thinking of--
This is why he didn't want to come here.
"I can't get a feel for you at all," Missouri says. "You're there, but you're just..."
"I feel here," Cass says. She clenches her hands into fists, looks up at Sam and Dean. "They felt me here."
Dean smiles at her -he does like a girl who knows where to punch- and Sam rolls his eyes at her like she's Dean.
Missouri breaks out the tea-leaves and then, with a frown, the cards, saying all the while that she doesn't hold with them, making Cass stand up, move around, lie down, while Missouri tries to read her. At last, Missouri gestures her to the chair and crosses her arms.
Dean looks at Sam -you ask, she likes you more- and Sam says, "Can you tell us anything?"
"I think so," she says and looks at Cass. "I'm sorry. I don't think this is your world," she says.
Cass nods like she's not surprised, then puts her head in her hands. She doesn't cry, but she shoulders shake and Dean has his hand on the back of her head, stroking like he did when Sam was little, and Sam has one awkward hand on her shoulder. She looks up, breathes deeply, and goes still.
"I don't know... You're here, and I don't have any idea how that happened, or where you should be," Missouri says. "I don't think I can help you."
"It's okay," Cass says. She hasn't cried, but she hasn't moved away from Dean or Sam's touch either. "It happens."
7.
At the motel, Dean gets the manager to put an extra cot in their room. He's not sure how much money Cass has, but she's acting too calm for comfort. Holding it together by force of will and practise, and he knows how that goes, and that you can't do it forever.
She watches them salt the doors and windows and when he takes out his knives for maintenance --every Friday, if they need it or not--, she grabs one and a spare whetstone and joins in. She's skilled, practiced.
"I can't read," she says. "Not well."
"At all?" Sam says, then looks like he wants to take back the words.
"Nice, Sam. Tactful."
"It wasn't-- my father didn't teach me," she says. "He wanted me to focus on--" She gestures at herself, the knife, then the world.
"Do you-- do you want to learn?" Sam says. Dean tries to tell him to shut up with his eyes, but Sam's ignoring him. "I can teach you, or Dean could. He taught me to read."
Ah, hell. "Sam, can I talk to you? Outside," he says, grabbing Sam by his collar and pulling him outside.
"What? I was only--"
"No, Sammy. No." Dean puts on his firmest, no-more-TV, no-more-ice-cream voice and tries to forget that it never worked before. "We are not keeping her."
"I wasn't-- she's alone, Dean. And you saw that she can take care of herself, so it's not like we're--"
Dean smacks Sam on the back of his head. "No! You teach her to read and that's like feeding a dog, you're never getting rid of it and you have to keep the damn thing with you forever, because-- What?"
Sam's grinning. "You know you bought her lunch the first place we stopped at, right?"
Dean looks at him. "Doesn't count, not when it's Lemmy Kilmister's credit card."
Sam's still smiling. "Sure. And you let everyone sharpen your knives, right? Come on, Dean. Didn't you ever want a little sister?"
"Why'd I need another one when I already had you," Dean says. "We're just keeping her while she gets her feet. When she's got a handle on the world, she's gone."
"Uh-huh," Sam says. "Right."
"Stop looking so freaking smug," Dean says, hitting him on the arm on his way back in to their room.
End.
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no subject
Date: 2006-07-05 05:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-05 05:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-05 11:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-06 08:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-06 12:32 pm (UTC)purpleeggplant outfit is.no subject
Date: 2006-07-06 04:12 pm (UTC)Especially because Cass keeps looking at him, like she knows and understands... but that that doesn't mean she thinks his actions were excusable.
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Date: 2008-08-28 05:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-29 08:51 am (UTC)