FIC: "12 Days of Crossovers: Two Exorcisms That Just Didn't Take" (Brooke Davis/Sam Winchester)PG-13
Title: 12 Days of Crossovers: Two Exorcisms That Just Didn't Take
Author: angel_grace
Rating: PG-13, for one some profanity and sexual situations
Pairing: Brooke Davis/Sam Winchester
Spoilers: General spoilers for season 5 of One Tree Hill. Not much else.
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester are very good at what they do, but not even they succeed every time. One night, after a painful failure, Sam meets Brooke Davis, who is having a crisis of her own.
Disclaimer: One Tree Hill and Supernatural were created by Mark Schwahn and Eric Kripke, respectively. No profit is being made from the use of any of the recognizable characters.
Author's Note: Written for my own personal 12 Days of Crossovers fic challenge. Pairing and prompt provided by monimala
The neon lights of the bar spelled out 'TRIC,' which Sam thought was appropriate. His life lately felt like an unending string of nasty tricks of fate. Tonight, unfortunately, was no exception.
Exorcisms were never easy. They were always horrifying to watch, and sometimes, like tonight, they just didn't work.
The girl's name had been Valerie. He and Dean had caught wind of some potential demonic activity in the town of Tree Hill, North Carolina, and it hadn't taken long to track down the source. A good old-fashioned exorcism--with the Latin but minus the pea soup--was the order of the day, and he'd really believed they could save her.
Instead they were left with the corpse of an innocent girl, and a demon that was free to torment another victim.
He pitied the M.E. who had to try and determine the cause of death.
It wasn't the first time they had failed, and it likely wouldn't be the last. Still, it hit them hard. Dean bought a fifth of Jack Daniels and holed up in the motel room. He offered to split it with Sam, but he was restless and anxious and felt confined by the four walls of the small, dumpy room.
Which was how he ended up at TRIC. Presumably, they had tequila.
Brooke angrily swiped away tears as she tossed the last photograph into the fireplace. The fact that the images still existed in digital form on her laptop didn't negate the cathartic nature of the act. She was determined to purge Christopher from her life, and this was only the beginning.
She couldn't believe what an idiot she'd been. She'd honestly believed he might be 'the one,' her soulmate, and all that other romantic bullshit that Peyton and Lucas liked to spout off about. And maybe he could have been--if he hadn't been spying on her for her mother. The evil bitch.
Her cell phone rang for the sixth time in the past hour, and she answered it with gritted teeth. "Stop calling me, asshole."
"Brooke, please. You have to let me explain."
"Why the hell should I do that?"
"Because I love you."
Against her better judgment, she felt herself soften. "If that were true, you wouldn't be working for Victoria."
"Look, I know that's how it started. But I swear, somewhere along the way I fell for you. For real."
"Why should I believe you?"
"Do you honestly think I could have faked the last six months?"
She chewed on her bottom lip, and didn't answer right away. She wanted to believe him, wanted the love story to be real. But still... Finally, she sighed. "Meet me at TRIC in half an hour. Maybe if I see your face I'll know if you're lying."
Sam was on his third shot of tequila when the pretty brunette walked into the bar. She was an absolute knockout, with full lips and lush curves. Dean would have been all over that, but he just watched as she took a seat at a small table on the far side of the room.
Fifteen minutes ticked past, and he sipped on his beer chaser, until all that's left was the last warm swallow at the bottom of the bottle. He had to tilt his head a little to keep the woman in his line of sight, and he didn't really know why he was watching, except that she was pretty and he was a little drunk.
He knew the exact moment when it all went wrong, when she looked down at her watch and her face crumpled in disappointment, and then hardened in anger. And he realized he was more than a little drunk when he got up and walked over to her table, determined, somehow, to make it all better.
"Can I buy you a drink?" he offered as soon as he was close enough.
She looked up at him, sadness and resignation marring her features. "I'm really not in the mood."
Undeterred, he sat down at her table. "Then you can buy me a drink."
Against her better judgment, she laughed. "Sure, what the hell? It's not like anything else tonight has gone according to plan. What are you drinking?"
"Tequila shots. Beer chasers."
She wrinkled her nose, but signaled a waitress and ordered two shots and two beers.
"You look like you're having a bad night," he said once the waitress was gone.
"Gee, thanks."
"No, I mean...you just looked...less than thrilled with life."
She sighed, and knocked back the tequila shot that the waitress had just brought. "Yeah, well, have you ever just wanted to, like, expel someone from your life? To make every last trace of him--or her--just disappear?"
He really hoped she wasn't talking about demons. "Yeah, I think I know what you mean."
"I just don't understand why men suck so much."
He knocked back his own shot before answering. "Yeah, I'm not touching that one."
She grimaced. "Not you. I don't even know you. But men in general. I'm Brooke, by the way."
"Sam. Sam Winchester."
"So Sam, Sam Winchester, what brings you to Tree Hill?"
"Just passing through. On business." Of the 'usually reserved for Roman Catholic priests' variety.
"I see. Alone?"
"With my brother. Who is...most likely passed out from an excess of Jack Daniels by now."
"Guess he won't miss you then."
"No, I guess not."
They were both undeniably shit faced when the bartender informed them that it was last call. Brooke lurched to her feet, steadying herself with her hands on the table. "C'mon," she said, crooking her finger at him.
"Where're we going?"
"My friend owns the place. My other friend has 'n office back here. She won' mind if we crash for a l'il bit."
He followed her dutifully, stepping carefully so he wouldn't fall on his ass. Speaking of ass...his eyes followed the sway of her hips as she led him to the back of the club. He wondered, absently, if Dean would ever forgive him if he didn't at least try to get Brooke naked. It was a sacrifice he might just have to make.
She opened the door with some difficulty and stumbled into the spacious room, which was faintly illuminated only by emergency lighting. She groped along the wall for a second and flipped a switch, turning on the overheads. Sam blinked at the sudden brightness, and then blinked again when she flung her arms around his waist.
"How long are you in town, Sam, Sam Winchester?" she mumbled against his chest, only slurring the words a little.
"Long enough," he replied, as his hands settled on the curve of her hips. Slowly he slid them down to the hem of her short skirt, and as his fingers grazed the skin of her thigh, it occurred to him that he should probably kiss her first.
She tasted like tequila and beer, and the cherry lip gloss he'd watched her apply not five minutes earlier. She wasn't shy about the kiss, diving in with teeth and tongue, one hand pulling on the back of his neck and the other starting to fumble with his belt buckle.
"This is probably a bad idea," he broke away long enough to say, even as his hands were shoving her skirt up, his thumb hooking in the elastic of her skimpy underwear.
"Only kind worth having sometimes," she whispered back, yanking loose the leather belt and expertly popping the button on his jeans.
They didn't say much after that, save for a hissed 'yes' here and there, a mumbled 'just like that' and a gasped 'right there' punctuating their frantic breathing. They stumbled to the couch, leaving a trail of clothes, and when they come together in lusty desperation, Sam couldn't remember how he ended up there that night, and couldn't bring himself to care. It was exactly what he wanted, and she was more than he could have ever imagined.
She curled into his body when it was over, the drying sweat on her skin leaving her chilled, and he wrapped himself around her to share warmth. He kissed her on the forehead, and wished, for neither the first nor the last time, that his life didn't consist of 'just passing through.'
"I needed this tonight," she said softly, her fingers curling around his bicep. "If only to remind myself that not all men suck," she added with a quiet laugh.
"Glad I could help with that," he answered dryly. "This was...thank you, Brooke."
"Anytime."
"Next time I'm passing through," he told her, and it sounded, almost, like a promise.
Author: angel_grace
Rating: PG-13, for one some profanity and sexual situations
Pairing: Brooke Davis/Sam Winchester
Spoilers: General spoilers for season 5 of One Tree Hill. Not much else.
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester are very good at what they do, but not even they succeed every time. One night, after a painful failure, Sam meets Brooke Davis, who is having a crisis of her own.
Disclaimer: One Tree Hill and Supernatural were created by Mark Schwahn and Eric Kripke, respectively. No profit is being made from the use of any of the recognizable characters.
Author's Note: Written for my own personal 12 Days of Crossovers fic challenge. Pairing and prompt provided by monimala
The neon lights of the bar spelled out 'TRIC,' which Sam thought was appropriate. His life lately felt like an unending string of nasty tricks of fate. Tonight, unfortunately, was no exception.
Exorcisms were never easy. They were always horrifying to watch, and sometimes, like tonight, they just didn't work.
The girl's name had been Valerie. He and Dean had caught wind of some potential demonic activity in the town of Tree Hill, North Carolina, and it hadn't taken long to track down the source. A good old-fashioned exorcism--with the Latin but minus the pea soup--was the order of the day, and he'd really believed they could save her.
Instead they were left with the corpse of an innocent girl, and a demon that was free to torment another victim.
He pitied the M.E. who had to try and determine the cause of death.
It wasn't the first time they had failed, and it likely wouldn't be the last. Still, it hit them hard. Dean bought a fifth of Jack Daniels and holed up in the motel room. He offered to split it with Sam, but he was restless and anxious and felt confined by the four walls of the small, dumpy room.
Which was how he ended up at TRIC. Presumably, they had tequila.
Brooke angrily swiped away tears as she tossed the last photograph into the fireplace. The fact that the images still existed in digital form on her laptop didn't negate the cathartic nature of the act. She was determined to purge Christopher from her life, and this was only the beginning.
She couldn't believe what an idiot she'd been. She'd honestly believed he might be 'the one,' her soulmate, and all that other romantic bullshit that Peyton and Lucas liked to spout off about. And maybe he could have been--if he hadn't been spying on her for her mother. The evil bitch.
Her cell phone rang for the sixth time in the past hour, and she answered it with gritted teeth. "Stop calling me, asshole."
"Brooke, please. You have to let me explain."
"Why the hell should I do that?"
"Because I love you."
Against her better judgment, she felt herself soften. "If that were true, you wouldn't be working for Victoria."
"Look, I know that's how it started. But I swear, somewhere along the way I fell for you. For real."
"Why should I believe you?"
"Do you honestly think I could have faked the last six months?"
She chewed on her bottom lip, and didn't answer right away. She wanted to believe him, wanted the love story to be real. But still... Finally, she sighed. "Meet me at TRIC in half an hour. Maybe if I see your face I'll know if you're lying."
Sam was on his third shot of tequila when the pretty brunette walked into the bar. She was an absolute knockout, with full lips and lush curves. Dean would have been all over that, but he just watched as she took a seat at a small table on the far side of the room.
Fifteen minutes ticked past, and he sipped on his beer chaser, until all that's left was the last warm swallow at the bottom of the bottle. He had to tilt his head a little to keep the woman in his line of sight, and he didn't really know why he was watching, except that she was pretty and he was a little drunk.
He knew the exact moment when it all went wrong, when she looked down at her watch and her face crumpled in disappointment, and then hardened in anger. And he realized he was more than a little drunk when he got up and walked over to her table, determined, somehow, to make it all better.
"Can I buy you a drink?" he offered as soon as he was close enough.
She looked up at him, sadness and resignation marring her features. "I'm really not in the mood."
Undeterred, he sat down at her table. "Then you can buy me a drink."
Against her better judgment, she laughed. "Sure, what the hell? It's not like anything else tonight has gone according to plan. What are you drinking?"
"Tequila shots. Beer chasers."
She wrinkled her nose, but signaled a waitress and ordered two shots and two beers.
"You look like you're having a bad night," he said once the waitress was gone.
"Gee, thanks."
"No, I mean...you just looked...less than thrilled with life."
She sighed, and knocked back the tequila shot that the waitress had just brought. "Yeah, well, have you ever just wanted to, like, expel someone from your life? To make every last trace of him--or her--just disappear?"
He really hoped she wasn't talking about demons. "Yeah, I think I know what you mean."
"I just don't understand why men suck so much."
He knocked back his own shot before answering. "Yeah, I'm not touching that one."
She grimaced. "Not you. I don't even know you. But men in general. I'm Brooke, by the way."
"Sam. Sam Winchester."
"So Sam, Sam Winchester, what brings you to Tree Hill?"
"Just passing through. On business." Of the 'usually reserved for Roman Catholic priests' variety.
"I see. Alone?"
"With my brother. Who is...most likely passed out from an excess of Jack Daniels by now."
"Guess he won't miss you then."
"No, I guess not."
They were both undeniably shit faced when the bartender informed them that it was last call. Brooke lurched to her feet, steadying herself with her hands on the table. "C'mon," she said, crooking her finger at him.
"Where're we going?"
"My friend owns the place. My other friend has 'n office back here. She won' mind if we crash for a l'il bit."
He followed her dutifully, stepping carefully so he wouldn't fall on his ass. Speaking of ass...his eyes followed the sway of her hips as she led him to the back of the club. He wondered, absently, if Dean would ever forgive him if he didn't at least try to get Brooke naked. It was a sacrifice he might just have to make.
She opened the door with some difficulty and stumbled into the spacious room, which was faintly illuminated only by emergency lighting. She groped along the wall for a second and flipped a switch, turning on the overheads. Sam blinked at the sudden brightness, and then blinked again when she flung her arms around his waist.
"How long are you in town, Sam, Sam Winchester?" she mumbled against his chest, only slurring the words a little.
"Long enough," he replied, as his hands settled on the curve of her hips. Slowly he slid them down to the hem of her short skirt, and as his fingers grazed the skin of her thigh, it occurred to him that he should probably kiss her first.
She tasted like tequila and beer, and the cherry lip gloss he'd watched her apply not five minutes earlier. She wasn't shy about the kiss, diving in with teeth and tongue, one hand pulling on the back of his neck and the other starting to fumble with his belt buckle.
"This is probably a bad idea," he broke away long enough to say, even as his hands were shoving her skirt up, his thumb hooking in the elastic of her skimpy underwear.
"Only kind worth having sometimes," she whispered back, yanking loose the leather belt and expertly popping the button on his jeans.
They didn't say much after that, save for a hissed 'yes' here and there, a mumbled 'just like that' and a gasped 'right there' punctuating their frantic breathing. They stumbled to the couch, leaving a trail of clothes, and when they come together in lusty desperation, Sam couldn't remember how he ended up there that night, and couldn't bring himself to care. It was exactly what he wanted, and she was more than he could have ever imagined.
She curled into his body when it was over, the drying sweat on her skin leaving her chilled, and he wrapped himself around her to share warmth. He kissed her on the forehead, and wished, for neither the first nor the last time, that his life didn't consist of 'just passing through.'
"I needed this tonight," she said softly, her fingers curling around his bicep. "If only to remind myself that not all men suck," she added with a quiet laugh.
"Glad I could help with that," he answered dryly. "This was...thank you, Brooke."
"Anytime."
"Next time I'm passing through," he told her, and it sounded, almost, like a promise.