Of Evil and Mario
Title: Of Evil and Mario (Part I)
Author:
dev_earl
Fandoms: Supernatural|Angel
Rating: G
Warnings: Post-finales innuendos
Summary: Let's say Dean and Sam made it out alive and still hunting. Let's say Angel and Spike made it through the apocalypse and still running Wolfram & Hart--well, Angel is. And let's say they cross paths. Vampires and demon hunters; that would be fun, right? Or awkward.
Disclaimer: I wish I own Dean Winchester and Angel and Spike and Sam Winchester and everything in between. But I don't. Boo hoo!
Author's Note: I was considering whether I should make this all serious and deep or just hillarious all the way. And then I decided I'd stack everything together. Full apology if it doesn't seem like it. Enjoy!
Of Evil and Mario
It was dark, damp and cold. So very cold. Dean watched as the air he puffed out dispersed into the frigid night. His grip on the flashlight tightened a tad as he heard faint rustling at the far end of the alley, his spider sense, or rather, Winchester sense heightening. Under his breath, he mumbled a string of curse words dedicated to Sam for picking the worst combination of weather and place to disappear.
The wettest week in Los Angeles.
“City of Angels, my ass,” he grumbled under his breath, still vaguely aware of the tiny sounds that seemed to surround him.
The movement was so quick, it was somewhat inhuman. Vampires? As skilled as Dean was, he doubt that his hearing could be that sharp. He smelt, almost felt, something evil nearby but it was as if the being wasn’t intending to hide its presence. He paused in his step, trying to collect everything. Even the wind was still now. He moved on, sidestepping murky puddles here and there. The thing was close now. Closing in.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Dean spun around so quick he almost experienced a whiplash. The man was lanky and oddly pale. The worn out leather jacket was almost as feeble as the platinum blond hair on his head. The English in his words were strong.
“It’s a dangerous place. Danger lurks at every corner,” the Englishman spoke again.
“Are you one of it?” Dean almost scoffed, his smile cocky.
The man crossed his arms, returning the swaggering gesture. “That depends.”
Dean smirked and lowered his flashlight, his eyes adjusted to the dark. “On what?”
“On what you’re looking for.”
“I’m looking for my brother.”
The shadow appeared from nowhere at all. “He’s not here.”
The Englishman scowled, not even glancing over his shoulder to see who it was. “Aww,” he groaned. “You always have to ruin the fun, don’t you?”
“Go home, Spike,” the voice was gruff, commanding.
“Uh…no.”
Dean shone his flashlight towards the two men, frowning. “You guys are wasting my time. He could be anywhere by now,” he said, walking away.
“I can help you find him,” the dark-haired one spoke.
It made Dean stopped in his tracks. It had something to do with the deep brown eyes staring back at him under the beacon of his flashlight a moment earlier. The man seemed honest. But it wasn’t nearly enough.
“Who are you guys?” he squinted for a better view, now realizing that neither of them were puffing out air as he was. But that was impossible.
Unless they weren’t breathing.
Dean reached for the gun at the waistband of his jeans.
“I’m here to help.”
The blond, Spike, stepped forward. “We’re here to help.”
“You could head on home, Spike. I could handle this on my own.”
“What’s the matter, Captain Forehead? You have dibs on boys now?”
Dean pointed the gun at them, pretty certain it wasn’t going to kill them but it was the only weapon he was carrying, apart from his trusty pocket knife. “You guys aren’t really human, are you? What are you?”
Spike held up both his hands in a surrender gesture, smiling wide. “Relax. I’ve quit humans a long time ago. And this guy?” he jerked a thumb at his friend. “How long has it been, Angel boy? Two hundred years?” his voice was taunting.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” Angel said, calm. “We’re just here to help you find your brother.”
Spike laughed. “It’s ‘we’ now, eh? You’re such a wuss. It’s just a gun.”
The bullet hit him just below his left collarbone.
“Son of a…” he grunted. “What was that for?!”
“You speak too much,” Dean shrugged, smirking. The man standing behind Spike smiled.
“Now shouldn’t you go back? I’ll help him,” he drawled.
“What?” Spike snapped. “As if I wouldn’t heal in, like, ten minutes.”
Dean still had the gun aimed at the two of them. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
Spike waved him off nonchalantly. “I’m sure you know. You have nothing to worry about. Me and Captain Forehead here are on a strict pig blood’s diet. Otter, once in a while.”
The gun lowered a bit. “I’ve never heard of vampires that resist human’s blood.”
“I’m sure you’ve never met one of our types before,” Spike retorted.
Dean made a face. “What do you mean type? Like species? There are different species of you?”
The silent one stepped forward. “We should get going. The demon that has your brother is going further away.”
Spike smirked. “Sensitive issue,” he looked pointedly at his friend.
“Can I at least know who the hell you are before traipsing away into the darkness with you?”
“I’m Angel.”
Dean didn’t know why. It was automatic but he held out a hand for a handshake. “Dean.”
Angel didn’t take it. He moved further down the alley, not even looking back. “We have to go. The demon stopped.”
Dean sent Spike a strange look.
“Heightened smell sense,” Spike pointed at his own nose, reading Dean’s mind.
Dean shrugged and followed the two from behind.
///
The small room reeked with the acrid smell of blood. And something else that Sam failed to recognize. It was warmer here than it was outside, and he was actually grateful for that. Squinting in the near dark, all he could make out was a ratty couch and a coffee table. His captor was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t know who, or rather what, had caught him but it was convinced enough that he did not feel the need to tie Sam up.
“You’re awake.”
Sam looked up to see a dark figure looming at the doorway. “What do you want from me?”
Somehow, without even seeing it, Sam knew it was grinning sinisterly. “A lot of things. But only one matters the most.”
“I have nothing that you could want,” he replied, his voice somewhat broken, saddened.
“On the contrary, Sam. You have the one thing I’ve always wanted.”
Sam didn’t care how it knew his name. “If that is what you think, you don’t know me. Everything I ever appreciate, I ever love, is gone. Everything.”
“Who ever said anything about appreciate? And love is a subjective word. Surely you have a person you worry over. The person who you would die for. And who would die for you.”
“Are you talking about my father?”
Silence. The being was gone.
Sam struggled to pick himself up but it was as if he was bound to the ground by an invisible force. The whole thing had started off bizarre enough. He remembered stopping at the local store for Dean to buy some lunch. And then everything was a blur to him. He was conscious at some points but never long enough to gather everything around him, to see his captor. And then he was unconscious again. It felt like days. He had been gone for days. Where was Dean?
Sam was sure his brother would do something, anything to get him back. It is who he is. Nothing comes before his family. Their family. A pang of guilt hit him. He knew he had been selfish as compared to Dean. To feel the utter need to protect their family, to keep them together must have been a thousand fold harder than the need to feel normal. At the back of his mind and in the smallest corner of his heart, he had the notion that the reason Dean wanted him to find their father together is not because he was incapable of doing so by himself but because he wanted them to be together again as a family-be it just the two of them. Dean needed to feel complete. It was enough.
Seconds ticked by in silence save for Sam’s muttered groans. His limbs were locked, nearly suffocating him. The only thing he was able to do was breathe, the only thing keeping him alive. His eyes were beginning to adapt to the poorly lit room. He scanned the place and saw nothing more than the previous couch and coffee table.
Sam silently prayed for Dean to come soon. Something bad was happening-he could feel it in his bones.
///
“Do you really know where we’re going?” Dean groaned under his breath, ducking to avoid a low pipeline.
Angel kept on moving, not glancing back even once. “They’re close by. Be patient.”
“You know, big guy, I could sniff this ponce out by myself and help our friend here. There’s no need for you,” Spike pointed out, trailing behind Dean.
“I’m already here, Spike,” Angel argued lethargically. His steps were small, cautious.
“Don’t you have a whole company to tend to?” Spike snickered.
Angel stopped, turning around.
Dean frowned. “You’re a vampire who works in an office?”
“Wolfram and Hart,” Angel nodded.
“What kind of company employs vampires? A blood-sucking one?” Dean smirked.
“It’s a law firm.”
A perfect hook of an eyebrow shot up. “You’re a lawyer?”
“I’m the CEO,” Angel stated, looking around listlessly.
“Why are we stopping?” Dean asked.
“We’re here,” Spike replied, tilting his head upward towards the old apartment building. “They’re here.”
Angel crossed his arms, looking at Dean intently. “You’ll need more than a gun to go against this thing. Do you have anything else on you?”
Dean’s trademark smirk crept up his face. “Do you see me carrying a handbag? I rushed off to search for my brother, I didn’t think about arming myself up. My bad. It’s just my luck I run into a couple of retired vampires now, isn’t it?”
The battle axe twisted in Angel’s hand before the handle pointed at Dean. Dean took it gingerly, feeling the gratifying weight. It was a little different from what he was used to but it was definitely a relief to be holding on to something that could make some real damage.
“What about you?” Dean asked, swinging the axe back and forth, picking a momentum.
Angel avoided his eyes, looking at the fire escape ladder. “You need it more than I do.”
Dean blinked and Angel was already seven feet above, hanging on the ladder. Looking at Spike, he found the vampire scowling.
Making a face, Spike pointed upwards, wrinkling his nose. “This guy stinks. And he eats humans’ entrails.” Seeing the look on Dean’s face, he grinned before motioning Dean to climb up the ladder, following close behind.
“Great. That’s…super,” Dean grumbled under his breath.
///
Sam wasn’t even aware he was asleep when the door broke down under a huge force. When everything cleared up, he saw a man in a black duster standing at the doorway and standing behind him, with a gleaming weapon at ready, was Dean. Sam released an easy breath for once in days.
“Dean!” he shouted even though he knew his brother saw him.
Dean rushed over, setting the battle axe by Sam. “Are you alright?”
“I can’t move.”
Dean looked up to Angel. “Is the thing still here?”
Both Angel and Spike nodded, faces grim. It was an old friend. Neither was fond of a reunion of any sort. Them getting together and fighting the apocalypse was mad torture enough. And they were certain that any friend that survived the apocalypse was in no way friendly.
“Angel,” the voice came from the dark corner of the room. “What a surprise.”
Dean couldn’t see who it was but he was sure the two vampires could. He watched as Angel’s jaw tensed.
Spike was rolling his eyes. “Typical wannabe,” he groaned.
The being stepped into the stream of moonlight coming in from the broken window. “Although, it’s not really a huge surprise. You’re always sticking your nose into everything that isn’t your business. And nice to see you’re still so spiteful, Spike. Yet still a faithful sidekick. What? Mr. Champion here hadn’t stuck his knife into your back yet?”
Spike waved the comment off. “We go way back.”
“I made sure you were dead, Lindsey,” Angel cut in.
Lindsey smirked. “Do you really think those demons down below could resist making a pact with me? They needed the body, I needed the immortality. It was a win-win situation.”
“You were content on eating human flesh, then? How was your first taste?” Angel asked, stepping a little closer.
“Yummy,” Lindsey grinned. “I don’t know why you boys would want to quit eating us.”
The edge of Angel’s lips tilted. “You’re no longer human, Lindsey.”
“And yet, I have a strong feeling you still couldn’t find it in your heart to cut my head off.”
Spike grinned. “I have no sentimental issue with you whatsoever, Doyle. I’ll do it. With pleasure.”
Author:
dev_earl
Fandoms: Supernatural|Angel
Rating: G
Warnings: Post-finales innuendos
Summary: Let's say Dean and Sam made it out alive and still hunting. Let's say Angel and Spike made it through the apocalypse and still running Wolfram & Hart--well, Angel is. And let's say they cross paths. Vampires and demon hunters; that would be fun, right? Or awkward.
Disclaimer: I wish I own Dean Winchester and Angel and Spike and Sam Winchester and everything in between. But I don't. Boo hoo!
Author's Note: I was considering whether I should make this all serious and deep or just hillarious all the way. And then I decided I'd stack everything together. Full apology if it doesn't seem like it. Enjoy!
Of Evil and Mario
It was dark, damp and cold. So very cold. Dean watched as the air he puffed out dispersed into the frigid night. His grip on the flashlight tightened a tad as he heard faint rustling at the far end of the alley, his spider sense, or rather, Winchester sense heightening. Under his breath, he mumbled a string of curse words dedicated to Sam for picking the worst combination of weather and place to disappear.
The wettest week in Los Angeles.
“City of Angels, my ass,” he grumbled under his breath, still vaguely aware of the tiny sounds that seemed to surround him.
The movement was so quick, it was somewhat inhuman. Vampires? As skilled as Dean was, he doubt that his hearing could be that sharp. He smelt, almost felt, something evil nearby but it was as if the being wasn’t intending to hide its presence. He paused in his step, trying to collect everything. Even the wind was still now. He moved on, sidestepping murky puddles here and there. The thing was close now. Closing in.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Dean spun around so quick he almost experienced a whiplash. The man was lanky and oddly pale. The worn out leather jacket was almost as feeble as the platinum blond hair on his head. The English in his words were strong.
“It’s a dangerous place. Danger lurks at every corner,” the Englishman spoke again.
“Are you one of it?” Dean almost scoffed, his smile cocky.
The man crossed his arms, returning the swaggering gesture. “That depends.”
Dean smirked and lowered his flashlight, his eyes adjusted to the dark. “On what?”
“On what you’re looking for.”
“I’m looking for my brother.”
The shadow appeared from nowhere at all. “He’s not here.”
The Englishman scowled, not even glancing over his shoulder to see who it was. “Aww,” he groaned. “You always have to ruin the fun, don’t you?”
“Go home, Spike,” the voice was gruff, commanding.
“Uh…no.”
Dean shone his flashlight towards the two men, frowning. “You guys are wasting my time. He could be anywhere by now,” he said, walking away.
“I can help you find him,” the dark-haired one spoke.
It made Dean stopped in his tracks. It had something to do with the deep brown eyes staring back at him under the beacon of his flashlight a moment earlier. The man seemed honest. But it wasn’t nearly enough.
“Who are you guys?” he squinted for a better view, now realizing that neither of them were puffing out air as he was. But that was impossible.
Unless they weren’t breathing.
Dean reached for the gun at the waistband of his jeans.
“I’m here to help.”
The blond, Spike, stepped forward. “We’re here to help.”
“You could head on home, Spike. I could handle this on my own.”
“What’s the matter, Captain Forehead? You have dibs on boys now?”
Dean pointed the gun at them, pretty certain it wasn’t going to kill them but it was the only weapon he was carrying, apart from his trusty pocket knife. “You guys aren’t really human, are you? What are you?”
Spike held up both his hands in a surrender gesture, smiling wide. “Relax. I’ve quit humans a long time ago. And this guy?” he jerked a thumb at his friend. “How long has it been, Angel boy? Two hundred years?” his voice was taunting.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” Angel said, calm. “We’re just here to help you find your brother.”
Spike laughed. “It’s ‘we’ now, eh? You’re such a wuss. It’s just a gun.”
The bullet hit him just below his left collarbone.
“Son of a…” he grunted. “What was that for?!”
“You speak too much,” Dean shrugged, smirking. The man standing behind Spike smiled.
“Now shouldn’t you go back? I’ll help him,” he drawled.
“What?” Spike snapped. “As if I wouldn’t heal in, like, ten minutes.”
Dean still had the gun aimed at the two of them. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
Spike waved him off nonchalantly. “I’m sure you know. You have nothing to worry about. Me and Captain Forehead here are on a strict pig blood’s diet. Otter, once in a while.”
The gun lowered a bit. “I’ve never heard of vampires that resist human’s blood.”
“I’m sure you’ve never met one of our types before,” Spike retorted.
Dean made a face. “What do you mean type? Like species? There are different species of you?”
The silent one stepped forward. “We should get going. The demon that has your brother is going further away.”
Spike smirked. “Sensitive issue,” he looked pointedly at his friend.
“Can I at least know who the hell you are before traipsing away into the darkness with you?”
“I’m Angel.”
Dean didn’t know why. It was automatic but he held out a hand for a handshake. “Dean.”
Angel didn’t take it. He moved further down the alley, not even looking back. “We have to go. The demon stopped.”
Dean sent Spike a strange look.
“Heightened smell sense,” Spike pointed at his own nose, reading Dean’s mind.
Dean shrugged and followed the two from behind.
///
The small room reeked with the acrid smell of blood. And something else that Sam failed to recognize. It was warmer here than it was outside, and he was actually grateful for that. Squinting in the near dark, all he could make out was a ratty couch and a coffee table. His captor was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t know who, or rather what, had caught him but it was convinced enough that he did not feel the need to tie Sam up.
“You’re awake.”
Sam looked up to see a dark figure looming at the doorway. “What do you want from me?”
Somehow, without even seeing it, Sam knew it was grinning sinisterly. “A lot of things. But only one matters the most.”
“I have nothing that you could want,” he replied, his voice somewhat broken, saddened.
“On the contrary, Sam. You have the one thing I’ve always wanted.”
Sam didn’t care how it knew his name. “If that is what you think, you don’t know me. Everything I ever appreciate, I ever love, is gone. Everything.”
“Who ever said anything about appreciate? And love is a subjective word. Surely you have a person you worry over. The person who you would die for. And who would die for you.”
“Are you talking about my father?”
Silence. The being was gone.
Sam struggled to pick himself up but it was as if he was bound to the ground by an invisible force. The whole thing had started off bizarre enough. He remembered stopping at the local store for Dean to buy some lunch. And then everything was a blur to him. He was conscious at some points but never long enough to gather everything around him, to see his captor. And then he was unconscious again. It felt like days. He had been gone for days. Where was Dean?
Sam was sure his brother would do something, anything to get him back. It is who he is. Nothing comes before his family. Their family. A pang of guilt hit him. He knew he had been selfish as compared to Dean. To feel the utter need to protect their family, to keep them together must have been a thousand fold harder than the need to feel normal. At the back of his mind and in the smallest corner of his heart, he had the notion that the reason Dean wanted him to find their father together is not because he was incapable of doing so by himself but because he wanted them to be together again as a family-be it just the two of them. Dean needed to feel complete. It was enough.
Seconds ticked by in silence save for Sam’s muttered groans. His limbs were locked, nearly suffocating him. The only thing he was able to do was breathe, the only thing keeping him alive. His eyes were beginning to adapt to the poorly lit room. He scanned the place and saw nothing more than the previous couch and coffee table.
Sam silently prayed for Dean to come soon. Something bad was happening-he could feel it in his bones.
///
“Do you really know where we’re going?” Dean groaned under his breath, ducking to avoid a low pipeline.
Angel kept on moving, not glancing back even once. “They’re close by. Be patient.”
“You know, big guy, I could sniff this ponce out by myself and help our friend here. There’s no need for you,” Spike pointed out, trailing behind Dean.
“I’m already here, Spike,” Angel argued lethargically. His steps were small, cautious.
“Don’t you have a whole company to tend to?” Spike snickered.
Angel stopped, turning around.
Dean frowned. “You’re a vampire who works in an office?”
“Wolfram and Hart,” Angel nodded.
“What kind of company employs vampires? A blood-sucking one?” Dean smirked.
“It’s a law firm.”
A perfect hook of an eyebrow shot up. “You’re a lawyer?”
“I’m the CEO,” Angel stated, looking around listlessly.
“Why are we stopping?” Dean asked.
“We’re here,” Spike replied, tilting his head upward towards the old apartment building. “They’re here.”
Angel crossed his arms, looking at Dean intently. “You’ll need more than a gun to go against this thing. Do you have anything else on you?”
Dean’s trademark smirk crept up his face. “Do you see me carrying a handbag? I rushed off to search for my brother, I didn’t think about arming myself up. My bad. It’s just my luck I run into a couple of retired vampires now, isn’t it?”
The battle axe twisted in Angel’s hand before the handle pointed at Dean. Dean took it gingerly, feeling the gratifying weight. It was a little different from what he was used to but it was definitely a relief to be holding on to something that could make some real damage.
“What about you?” Dean asked, swinging the axe back and forth, picking a momentum.
Angel avoided his eyes, looking at the fire escape ladder. “You need it more than I do.”
Dean blinked and Angel was already seven feet above, hanging on the ladder. Looking at Spike, he found the vampire scowling.
Making a face, Spike pointed upwards, wrinkling his nose. “This guy stinks. And he eats humans’ entrails.” Seeing the look on Dean’s face, he grinned before motioning Dean to climb up the ladder, following close behind.
“Great. That’s…super,” Dean grumbled under his breath.
///
Sam wasn’t even aware he was asleep when the door broke down under a huge force. When everything cleared up, he saw a man in a black duster standing at the doorway and standing behind him, with a gleaming weapon at ready, was Dean. Sam released an easy breath for once in days.
“Dean!” he shouted even though he knew his brother saw him.
Dean rushed over, setting the battle axe by Sam. “Are you alright?”
“I can’t move.”
Dean looked up to Angel. “Is the thing still here?”
Both Angel and Spike nodded, faces grim. It was an old friend. Neither was fond of a reunion of any sort. Them getting together and fighting the apocalypse was mad torture enough. And they were certain that any friend that survived the apocalypse was in no way friendly.
“Angel,” the voice came from the dark corner of the room. “What a surprise.”
Dean couldn’t see who it was but he was sure the two vampires could. He watched as Angel’s jaw tensed.
Spike was rolling his eyes. “Typical wannabe,” he groaned.
The being stepped into the stream of moonlight coming in from the broken window. “Although, it’s not really a huge surprise. You’re always sticking your nose into everything that isn’t your business. And nice to see you’re still so spiteful, Spike. Yet still a faithful sidekick. What? Mr. Champion here hadn’t stuck his knife into your back yet?”
Spike waved the comment off. “We go way back.”
“I made sure you were dead, Lindsey,” Angel cut in.
Lindsey smirked. “Do you really think those demons down below could resist making a pact with me? They needed the body, I needed the immortality. It was a win-win situation.”
“You were content on eating human flesh, then? How was your first taste?” Angel asked, stepping a little closer.
“Yummy,” Lindsey grinned. “I don’t know why you boys would want to quit eating us.”
The edge of Angel’s lips tilted. “You’re no longer human, Lindsey.”
“And yet, I have a strong feeling you still couldn’t find it in your heart to cut my head off.”
Spike grinned. “I have no sentimental issue with you whatsoever, Doyle. I’ll do it. With pleasure.”