Supernatural/YouTube crossover [kind of]- Until The Very End of Me [Chapter 1- First Draft]
I'm working on a new thing.
It's a YouTube fic, with elements of Supernatural in. This is the first draft of the first part. I think it's too short, but it'll do for now. You don't need any prior knowledge of the YouTube community [other than that Alex and Charlie live together, and Charlie/Bryarly is freaking CANON], or of Supernatural.
I'm trying to do a lot of new things with this- it's not set out how I normally set things out, it's more of a crossover than anything else- kind of in the Supernatural universe- and it's gonna be more than one part, even if no other parts are put up. I have no idea how I'm gonna get from one point to another. Maybe I should start planning stories. Until The Very End Of Me is the working title. I'll try and think of a better one.
Oh, and parts of this are borrowed from this amazing fic, Last Outpost Of All That Is, although I have tried to make it different. Highly recommended, whether you like Supernatural or not. Formatting ideas borrowed from this equally awesome fic, Ten Thousand Miles, which is also recommended, but you probably need some kind of background knowledge to the show before reading it.
Fandom: YouTube Slash
Working Title: Until The Very End Of Me
Pairing: Gen- implied Charlie McDonnell/Bryarly Bishop [charlieissocoollike/bryarlybishop], Alex Day/Carrie Hope Fletcher [nerimon/itswaypastmybedtime]
Author: Emily, AKA bluesnokoplasm or hopesuffocating
Warnings: Language, gore, references to het! Het and canon pairings! What the fuck?
Rating: PG-13 for now, may change.
Summary: Apocalypse fic. Charlie and Alex are hunters. They fight and kill as many evil sons of bitches as they can find. They work together, and they're mostly successful. But now they're up against something they can't fight- not forever.
Disclaimer: If you found this by googling yourself or one of your friends or something, go away. I don't own these people, that would be at the very best immoral. So much of this is borrowed from other people's work, although it is different! I'm not making money from this [although if someone wants to pay me I'll do a Fifty Shades of Grey and change their names]. This is fiction. Lyrics are from Imagine Dragon's unbelievably good song, Radioactive; listen here. Title is from Nine Inch Nails' song We're In This Together; here.
Notes: See above. Follow me on twitter or tumblr or youtube or whatever. Please leave me a bit of feedback- I want to know what you guys think of this! Is it worth continuing, changing the structure, anything? Left aligned text is past. Right aligned is present. Please enjoy! :D
I'm waking up to ash and dust
I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust
I'm breathing in the chemicals
I'm breaking in, shaping up, then checking out on the prison bus
This is it, the apocalypse
Whoa
I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones
Enough to make my systems blow
Welcome to the new age, to the new age
Welcome to the new age, to the new age
Whoa, whoa, I'm radioactive, radioactive
Whoa, whoa, I'm radioactive, radioactive
He hadn't immediately noticed that there was something wrong. In fact, it was a lazy morning for him, waking up slowly and rolling over, sleepily winding an arm around Bryarly, who was hugging her pillow, facing away from Charlie. She murmured quietly and he opened his eyes, the mid-December sun filtering into their room. He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, then rolled over to blearily grab his phone. Ten thirty-six in the morning. He could deal with that.
He wasn't expecting Alex to be up, so seeing only Carrie in the kitchen wasn't a surprise. Carrie grinned knowingly, hair tied up and standing in front of the hob, with a pan in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other.
Good night last night, she asked happily, and Charlie grinned as he put on the kettle, grabbing the tea towel and throwing it at her head.
He checked out his reflection in the mirror. He did look a little debauched, if he had to be honest. Normally, he'd put a shirt on in the mornings, but he'd been so blissed out he hadn't bothered, leaving him in just boxers. He pressed at a fading bite mark on his shoulder and tried to tame his hair.
Did actually, yeah, he said, grabbing two mugs to begin making the tea.
Yeah, we could tell, Carrie sniggered.
Charlie poured out the hot water. Consider it revenge, he replied.
For what, she asked innocently.
You know what, Charlie said, rolling his eyes good-humouredly. Four days ago, Bryarly had gone downstairs to find Alex and Carrie doing something that she could only describe as horrific. Charlie hadn't dared ask further.
It wasn't that bad. It was just a bit- Carrie started.
Charlie poured the milk quickly and picked up the mugs, leaving the room. I don't want to know, he called over his shoulder.
-
“Fuck you!” Charlie yells, aiming the rifle, his hand steady as he pulls the trigger. As he squeezes the trigger, he exhales, clenching his jaw. The creature collapses, half its face missing, and Charlie jumps forward with the butt of the gun outstretched, hitting the next two in the head. They come back for more, and Charlie jabs the one on his left in the stomach with the barrel of the rifle, twisting and throwing the other off him. He hears a yell from Alex, more a battle cry than anything else- sounding his barbaric yawp- and reaches into the back of his jeans, pulling out the pistol, placing it to the thing's head and pulling the trigger without a second thought. He spins again to find himself face to face with one of them, a teenager shorter than him with blond curls matted with blood on one side of his head, and long gashes of skin hanging down from his face. Charlie almost doesn't have the room to react, but he hears a grunt and the thing goes slack, falling towards him. Charlie steps back, looking up to find Bryarly, a long knife buried in the back of the creature. They make eye contact. Charlie grins, breathless, chest heaving, and turns, reloading and beginning to sprint back down the hallway. “Come at me, you mothers!” Bryarly cleans her knife on the remnants of the dead thing's shirt, following Charlie.
-
Charlie put one mug down next to Bryarly before getting into bed himself, sitting up and leaning against the headboard to check his emails on his phone. Nothing much seemed to have happened- his inbox was quieter than usual, but that was it- so it wasn't until he checked his twitter that he realized something was different. Or, at the very least, his tweets weren't loading. He could never tell with his phone.
It was at this point that Bryarly woke up, rolling over and gazing up at Charlie. Morning, he said fondly, and she closed her eyes, leaning her head against his thigh. I made you tea, he added, brushing her hair away from her face.
This is why I love you, Bryarly smiled, and she rubbed at her face as she sat up, picking up the mug and leaning against Charlie. What's up, she asked.
Phone isn't loading my tweets, Charlie replied with a sigh.
Aww, she teased, grabbing her own phone and frowning a little. That's weird.
What?
Mine aren't showing up either.
Is your connection alright, Charlie asked, and Bryarly nodded.
Yeah. It's almost like no-one has tweeted since- she checked the latest tweet- half five this morning.
Maybe twitter went down, Charlie suggested, getting out of bed to retrieve his laptop.
-
Carrie spots Charlie running towards her- he's hard to miss, being the tallest of the four of them- and steps back as he sprints past, jamming his pistol down the back of his jeans. Seconds later, Bryarly follows, but she stops to check if Carrie's okay. “Yeah, I'm fine,” she says, leaning back against the wall. “Alex is down there. Don't tell him, but I'm keeping an eye on him.
Bryarly laughs. “Yeah, me too.” she gestures down the hallway Charlie had just gone down, beginning to run off again. “Good luck with that,” Carrie yells after Bryarly.
“Yeah, I'm gonna need it!” comes the reply.
-
That's weird, Charlie said, closing one of the many tabs he had open. It looks like nothing's been updated for about five hours.
What, Bryarly asked. How is that even possible? Charlie made a vague noise. Nothing. Not reddit, youtube, twitter... Nothing.
This is getting ridiculous, Bryarly said, tugging Charlie's laptop out of his hands and logging into her tumblr account. Her eyebrows raised as she
checked the timestamp on the latest post. Five twenty-seven.
Shit just got real, she said, and Charlie laughed, albeit nervously.
-
“Clear!” comes the shout down the hallway, and Bryarly sticks her head out of the room she's checking.
“Clear!” she replies.
“Clear!” Charlie yells, from three rooms away. “Alex?”
“Alex is clear,” Carrie replies. “Reconvene.”
They each return to the centre of the maze of hallways. Alex is covered with blood, his hair caked with the stuff, and his jaw is set. Carrie's streaked with mud. Bryarly's shirt's been torn to shreds, and Charlie's panting, hair wild and eyes dark. They're silent.
“Sealed?” Alex asks.
“For now, yeah.” Charlie replies. “Don't know how long for.”
“Good enough.” Carrie says quietly. “Maybe we should all sleep in here tonight.”
-
There was no-one outside, Charlie notices, which was weird for London on a Friday morning. Alex was in his jeans, checking every social networking site he could think of. Bryarly was messaging anyone she could, and Carrie was calling their London-based friends. Charlie's job was to find out if anything had been posted on any news sites, but he had been distracted by the lack of traffic and pedestrians outside. He idly pinched the inside of his forearm, harder when he realized he might actually be awake. Bryarly reached over and pulled his hand away when Charlie didn't stop pinching his arm.
I don't see anything, Charlie said.
No replies, Bryarly added.
Yeah, no-one's picking up, Carrie chimed in.
Alex sighed. The latest update I could see was at five twenty-eight this morning, he said, pushing his laptop away from him. What the hell happened, he asked, looking around at each of them.
You realize, Carrie started hesitantly, that today is December twenty-first, two thousand and twelve?
What, Alex asked.
Charlie nodded. It is. Surely that can't be it.
Bryarly looked at him. Any better theories, she jibed, poking him in the side.
Parallel universe? Alternate dimension? Maybe everyone's asleep, Charlie suggested.
That's about as plausible as the December twenty-first shit, Alex said.
It's the only shit we've got, Charlie replied, and he looked at Bryarly. What do we do?
-
The four of them use only two sleeping bags, the cold December air chilling them through now that the central heating for the building's broken. Charlie stays awake even as Bryarly falls asleep on him, figuring it out. His eyes widen in the dark.
“Happy Christmas,” he breathes out.
Charlie jumps as Alex speaks- he didn't know Alex was awake. “Happy Christmas, Charlieburg.”
-
Consider this, Alex said, pulling Charlie aside. We tell them.
Tell them what, Charlie asked, and then looked at Alex. Oh. No.
It can't hurt, Alex said. We're the only people we know are left. They won't leave.
All this work put into not telling them, and then we ruin it when we might not need to? We haven't searched the entire planet, Alex. We've barely glanced at a corner.
We should.
What?
We should search the planet. Or, at least the UK.
Are you kidding me, Alex? We don't know what could be out there.
Alex scoffed. There's nothing that could do something to this scale.
Nothing that we know of.
Same thing, Charlie, Alex said, and he's exasperated. We need to go out there and look. If there was something out there, it would have found us already. So let's go!
Charlie looked down at Alex. But we're not telling them. Not yet.
Okay, Alex said, and Charlie wondered if even after his earlier insistence, Alex was scared of telling Carrie and Bryarly. But we do need to arm ourselves.
What the hell do we take for something like this without drawing attention to ourselves?
If you take salt, I'll take silver. Get as many knives as you can. We're gonna go to Tom's place.
-
When Charlie wakes up, he's alone in the middle of the room. His hand reaches for his knife, to find it gone, and he immediately sits upright, searching the labyrinthine corridors.
Radioactive- Imagine Dragons