FIC: SPN/ST:R crossover "these are the hunted" - R, AU (Part 1/?)
Title: these are the hunted (part 1 of ?)
Author: rosivan
Rating/Warnings: R, violence and fighting, AU - crossover with Supernatural
Wordcount: ~2100
Characters: Sulu/Chekov, Kirk/McCoy, eventual SPN characters
Summary: Apocalypse is around the corner, and when it hits, two separate groups of hunters must get over their differences and work together. They aren't the Winchesters, but they sure as hell get the job done.
A/N: Oh my god, I don't know how this happened, or where to post something like this, but here it is. Don't hate me too much. ♥? I must also apologise for my use of Russian - I don't want to use the Russian alphabet, and it's difficult to find transliterated words :/ If anyone knows of a better source than general Google-ing, please let me know! Translations will be at the end of the chapter.
MASTER POST
Pavel met him for the first time in the middle of a hunt, and almost shot him when he came bursting into the room wielding a fucking retractable sword. Just the sight had filled Pavel with a deep, yearning want.
For the sword, not the man.
He'd destroyed Pavel's plan to draw the spirit out, but to be fair, the man later burned the ghost's remains while Pavel was busy being thrown down the main staircase of the rickety house.
"I'm Hikaru Sulu," he had said after it was all over, when Pavel stubbornly pulled himself unassisted out of a pile of broken floorboards. He pushed his dark hair out of his eyes with the back of one hand, and offered a small half smile. "I didn't know you were hunting this spirit. I'm sorry if I got in your way."
"It is gone," Pavel said simply, and reloaded his gun. Sulu nodded, and his politeness threw Pavel for a moment - most hunters were gruff and gruffer. "Dasvidaniye," Pavel said at length, and gave a a small salute before turning to leave.
"Wait," Sulu said. "Don't I get a name?" His eyes were dark as his hair, and they watched Pavel intently.
Pavel shot him a sly grin over his shoulder and enjoyed the startled look on Sulu's face. "You can keep yours, Hikaru Sulu." He walked out the back door, feeling quite pleased, and drove away in his borrowed car without looking back.
-
The next time they met, Sulu and his partner had beaten them to a job posing as officers of the same government branch. There was a tiny little office in a small town outside Denver, and Pavel decided to play the familiarity card, hoping Sulu would do the same.
"Oh!" Pavel said, before McCoy could tear them a new one, "You beat us here!" He smiled sheepishly at Sulu and held his glance a little longer than was strictly necessary, to hint at playing along. The young go-getter was a routine he played often, and after a while the wide-eyed innocence and eager questions came all too easily.
Sulu smiled back and shrugged one shoulder. He was playing the part of the aloof agent - generally liked and respected - but Pavel was unsure of how much was an act, and how much was natural. "That's what happens when we get out of the parkade first, I guess." Sulu turned to the local fed and said, "Excuse us a moment, Sherriff." The officer nodded and stepped into his office, while the four hunters faced each other.
"Who the fuck're you?" McCoy growled quietly, his gruff southern drawl was natural - not part of an act. Sulu's partner eyed him with interest at these words, and grinned.
"Was gonna say the same thing, old man," he said, and Pavel could swear his bright blue eyes glimmered. Blue-eyes glanced at Sulu and slightly canted his head with an unspoken question. Sulu blinked at him. McCoy sneered at them both, unimpressed.
Sulu half raised a hand, and said quietly, "We're all on the same side here, right?" He levelled a glance at Pavel with only slight hesitation. "I'm sorry about last time, like I said, but we were here first."
McCoy's eyes darted over to Pavel, who nodded once. "Yes, right," the young Russian said, and then louder, so it carried through the small office, "We'll catch the next one, yeah?" Sulu stared at him, somewhat surprised, and Pavel allowed himself to give a small smirk. The first sentence was heavy with his native accent, but it was gone with the second phrase - when he'd arrived in America, he'd learned to hide it, if only for a little while.
"Yeah," Sulu said. "See you back at the office." Blue-eyes winked at them.
"Right," McCoy said shortly, and the two of them left the station. They were silent as they crossed the parking lot to McCoy's beat-up Chevy Lumina. It wasn't the station wagon that he usually favoured, but it had been the only car running when they'd left the house.
They were barely down the road when Pavel muttered, "It is second time he's been on same case as us." He desperately tried to say it without pouting.
The skinny striped tie that McCoy had been wearing was already lying on the dash, and his ever-present toothpick was back in its customary corner of his mouth. He chewed on it for a few seconds before replying, "There's other hunts."
"I suppose," Pavel said reluctantly. He watched the street pass by, unable to make further argument, because as Sulu had said - they'd gotten there first.
-
The third time they meet, it's a full-out clash against a family of demons at a country house in West Virginia, and everyone on their respective teams are involved. There's only four demons, but it's four demons and for all that Pavel thinks his Russian blood makes him the equal of three regular men, he's still just human.
"Let me see your eyes, djavol," Pavel called out. The upstairs hallway was dark, of course, but he had followed two figures up the stairs. He knew one was cornered in the linen closet to his right, but the other had gone into one of the bedrooms. With his main gun aimed down the hall, Pavel wedged himself in the corner, where he could also look down the staircase. He pointed his other gun at the linen closet door. "As for you - I do not think towels will help."
Gunshots downstairs heralded a gaping silence, and a familiar voice spoke from behind the closet door. "Hey, promise you won't shoot me, okay?"
"I make no such thing," Pavel said evenly, undeterred by the sound of Hikaru Sulu's voice. "You may be possessed." Movement at the end of the hall drew his attention, and Pavel eased carefully into a half-crouch. "Come out slowly and we'll go from there."
A muffled snort indicated that Sulu laughed. "Right. You might be possessed."
"I am not so easily taken," Pavel said. He eased forward across the floorboards, shoving one of his guns into the waistband of his jeans. He pulled a canister of salt from his jacket pocket and popped the top open. "Russians are a hearty people. Stronger."
Pavel heard the sound of Sulu cocking his gun. "Yeah, yeah," Sulu said grumpily. "Well, if you are possessed, you couldn't get a better shot at me if you wanted."
"I could," Pavel corrected, as he poured salt across bottom edge of the closet door, "If I wanted." He closed the canister and shoved it back in his pocket. The door at the end of the hall swung open and Pavel drew his boot knife, shooting at the demon as it rushed him.
His first shot missed, because the dress she wore was one of the baggy, tulip-shaped things that fashionable skinny girls liked to wear, and Pavel misjudged her true size. The second shot caught her in the shoulder, and then Pavel was shoved hard against the wall, with hands grabbing for his throat.
"Hello, darling," the demon said with a smile. "You're a pretty thing, aren't you?"
Pavel stabbed his knife between her ribs and spat, "Tebe pizd'ets, 'darling'," before wrenching his weight to one side and throwing them both bodily down the stairs. He let go of the knife and rolled as best as he could, deflecting off the wall and continuing to the landing. When he hit the main floor Pavel twisted his torso around, both guns out, to point at the stairs first, and then the area around him. He was by himself in the tight landing, and female demon was still on the stairs, caught in the devil's trap McCoy had put down when Pavel had gone chasing after the demon.
"Oh," the female hissed, and pulled Pavel's dagger from her side. It clattered down the stair and hit the floor. "You cruel, pretty thing…"
"Whatever," Pavel muttered at her, keeping his weapons out as he stood. "McCoy?" He called, to the still quiet house.
"Clear," McCoy yelled back, and Pavel smiled serenely at the trapped demon. She snarled at him, her eyes filling with inky blackness. "Give me a sec - I shot a civilian."
Another voice shouted in protest, "I'm not a civilian!"
"Do you require assistance?"
The polite inquiry came suddenly from above Pavel's shoulder, and he barely had time to take in who was speaking before he had a gun pressed against the man's gut. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in black, with a rosary and Bible in one hand. His hair was cut strangely, at least to Pavel's knowledge, in a style similar to a bowl cut. He looked down at Pavel dispassionately.
"Tell me why I should not shoot you," Pavel said in response. He considered bringing his other gun around to point at the man's serious face, but footsteps on the staircase divided his attention again.
"He can exorcise your demon," Sulu said. His main pistol was aimed at the demon in the trap, but the other was pointing at Pavel. "Nice salt line, by the way. I wasn't possessed, though."
"Neither was I," Pavel said. He eyed the other man for a moment, before saying, "Go on." Pavel didn't lower his gun, but he stepped back to give the man some room.
By the time the woman was just an empty body, Pavel relented enough to stop holding the serious man at gunpoint. When his weapon lowered, Sulu's did as well, and everyone convened in the kitchen, where McCoy was patching up the supposed 'civilian' he had shot.
"Fuck," Sulu sighed, seeing his comrade being patched up. Pavel recognized Blue-eyes from the West Virginia police station, as he turned in the chair to glare at Sulu.
"Don't even," Blue-eyes muttered. He half-turned back to McCoy, still talking to Sulu, "This guy didn't believe me when I said I wasn't a demon."
"You lunged at me," McCoy said and pulled a threaded needle through the man's broken skin.
"I was pushing you out of the way," Blue-eyes said. He didn't appear too concerned with the neat row of stitches that was appearing on his shoulder. "Maybe next time I'll just let the demon beat you over the head, how's that?"
"Ain't going to be a next time, kid," McCoy growled. He tied off the knot and then unceremoniously splashed the wound with a disinfectant. The other man yelped, and glared at McCoy, especially when a bandage was roughly slapped over the stitches. McCoy pointed in Blue-eye's face, "Don't pull those, y'hear?"
"Perhaps introductions are in order," suggested the man who had exorcized the demon on the stairs.
McCoy washed off his needle in the sink before returning it to a case in his leather satchel. "Or not, considerin' we'll be goin' our own ways, now." Pavel nodded his agreement, and felt Uhura step into place beside him. The tall, dark-skinned beauty held her pair of silver Glocks under crossed arms as she gave Pavel a slight smile; it was a signal that she'd checked the house again and that everything was truly in the clear.
"I believe we might benefit from a shared association," the serious man continued, as if McCoy hadn't said anything. "Especially as it seems we have been following much of the same signs and omens to find hunts."
"And I believe we were just leaving," McCoy said with an edge to his voice. His leather satchel then sat snugly over his back, and with a sharp flick of his wrist, he opened his double-barrel shotgun to reload. The tension in the room immediately doubled. Pavel caught Sulu's eye and shook his head in warning at the hand that was going for a holstered gun.
Blue-eyes sighed. "This is stupid. Look, I'm Jim Kirk, you already know Sulu, and this is Spock." He indicated the serious man with the Bible. "We’re holed up at a motel just outside town."
McCoy shook his head and pawed through the kitchen cabinets. Uhura and Pavel shared a look before she spoke for their side, "I'm Uhura, this is Chekov, and he's McCoy."
Pavel added, "Where we are is not your business."
"Christ," Kirk whistled lowly, "You people are tight with info, aren't you?"
"Yeah," McCoy said. He'd found two bottles of whiskey and a half-bottle of vodka above the stove. The wine and other liquors were left in the cupboard. McCoy handed the vodka to Pavel, who grinned in thanks, before stashing the whiskey in his bag. "And now we're going." McCoy said, and exited the kitchen with Uhura close behind him. Pavel took up the rear, with little more than a wave good bye.
"Hey," Sulu moved to follow them, but Pavel raised his gun with a smile.
"We remember the way," Pavel said pleasantly. "Dasvidaniye, Sulu."
Sulu pulled a paper off the refrigerator door; it was a crayon drawing of four people standing in front of a house, obviously done by a child before the family was possessed. Sulu flipped it over to the blank side and scrawled on it with a pen from his pocket. "Listen, this is my number, since none of you will probably give us one." He shoved it at Pavel, who didn't take it from him. Sulu's expression tightened with frustration. "Take it. If you change your mind, or need help, give us a call, okay?"
Pavel looked down at the number for a moment, and then back at Sulu. "We shall see." He smiled and backed out of the kitchen, before turning and disappearing down the hallway.
Kirk briefly patted Sulu's shoulder in sympathy. "You tried." He offered a lighter.
Sulu pulled out his own and burned the paper, stamping out the last bits of it when it dropped to the ground.
Next chapter - part two
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Dasvidaniye- meaning a formal good bye
Djavol - devil/demon
Tebe pizd'ets - "you're fucked" (supposedly)
Corrections on the Russian terms very welcomed.