FIC: Supernatural/Pretty Little Liars
Title: Nice Day for a White Wedding
Fandom: Supernatural/Pretty Little Liars (TV Show) Crossover
Rating/Warnings: Some strong language
Word Count: 2,000~
Summary: AU/Crack. Sam and Dean get invited to Jo and Ezra’s wedding.
Author’s Notes: I think this requires a little bit of explaining. This is a birthday present for my roommate, set in the combined universes of two of our favorite shows. Supernatural just has so many crossover-inducing guest stars. Sorry I broke up your favorite couple, Ashley, but I think Aria gets a pretty good consolation prize. Thanks to other roommates dreamscapemusic and Kayla for consulting and betaing. You guys are the best!
“Yeah, we’ll be there as soon as we can. Thanks, Bobby,” Sam said and then shut his phone.
“What’s up?” Dean asked, glancing at his brother as he drove.
“Bobby’s got something for us.”
“A job?”
“No.” Sam looked perplexed. “An invitation.”
Joanna Beth Harvelle
and
Ezra Malcolm Fitz
Together with their parents
request the honor of your presence
at the celebration of their marriage
Saturday, the twenty-seventh of September…
“Have you met this guy, Bobby?” Sam asked.
“No, but Ellen’s been raving about him for months now. When things started getting serious, we dug a little, and he checked out clean- he’s a school teacher, and that’s all he’s ever been.”
“He’s a school teacher, and Jo is a hunter!” Dean said, waving his half-empty bottle for emphasis. “How could this possibly be a good idea?”
The swig of beer Sam had just taken went down the wrong pipe, resulting in a cough that ended in “-ealous” and earned him a dirty look from Dean.
“I told you already, she’s giving it up,” Bobby said. “Her writing’s takin’ off; she’s got herself an agent in Philly. Says she wants to settle down and have kids. Ellen’s pleased as punch.”
“Just because you give up hunting doesn’t mean it gives up on you.”
“That may be true of our family, Dean, but we’re not exactly your average hunters,” Sam said.
Dean sighed. “All right. This shindig’s in two weeks. We got decent suits?”
“I think the last ones were wrecked during the haunted opera job.”
“Ugh. Time to go shopping.”
***
“Bride’s side, or groom’s?”
“Bride’s,” Sam answered.
The usher led Sam and Dean down the aisle of the small chapel. Sam nodded in thanks and slid into the pew where Bobby was already seated.
Dean looked at the program. “Vivaldi? Mendelssohn? Who picked this music?”
Sam shrugged. “It’s a wedding; it’s tradition.”
“Is it in the damn Bible? Thou shalt not have good music at thine own hitching?”
“All right, Dean, what would you process out to?”
“Jungle Love, Steve Miller Band.”
“You answered that way too quickly.”
“Will you two shut your traps?” Bobby hissed. “They’re startin’.”
The organ started to play, silencing their conversation. Sam didn’t recognize any of the wedding party. He realized he’d never met any of Jo’s female friends, five of whom were now walking down the aisle in dark green dresses, arm in arm with tuxedoed men in matching vests.
“Check out the groom,” Dean whispered. “What a pussy.”
Sam elbowed Dean to be quiet, but part of him agreed. Ezra Fitz had a wasting look to him, like a nineteenth century poet suffering from a bad case of consumption, or whatever it was those guys were always dying tragically of. Then again, maybe every average guy started to look like a pussy when you were Dean Winchester.
Then Jo came down the aisle, her hand resting on Ellen’s arm. Her dress was short-ish (as far as Sam could tell, he had limited experience with weddings) and cream colored. Completely free of frills, but that was Jo, of course. She passed within feet of Sam and Dean but didn’t look in their direction. Her smile was only for one person.
Sam looked towards the altar. Ezra’s expression was more solemn than Jo’s, but his eyes were filling up with tears. So were most of the bridesmaids’ eyes. Except for the one standing on the end- a stunning brunette, who was openly weeping.
***
The reception was, effectively, a hunter reunion.
“Shouldn’t My Size Ken have a big Irish Catholic family?” Dean asked over dinner.
“Fitz as a prefix is Irish, but alone it’s German,” Sam said.
“So he’s a Nazi,” Dean said.
“Give it a rest, would you?”
The groom’s family was outnumbered, and they were keeping to themselves, looking uncomfortable. After the cocktail hour, some of Jo’s guests had started to take their jackets off, at which point it became obvious that those who were not packing heat were bristling with knives.
“Sam! Dean! Oh my God, it’s so good to see you!”
“Jo,” Sam stood up and hugged her. “It’s good to see you too. You look beautiful.”
“Yeah, nice dress,” Dean added.
“Guys, this is Ezra. Ezra, Sam and Dean.”
“It’s so good to meet you,” Ezra said, shaking their hands. “I’ve heard so many stories about you.”
“Like what?” Dean asked.
“The phrase ‘older brothers I never had’ gets bandied around a lot.”
“Oh really,” Dean said. “In that case, you’ll forgive me a little brotherly curiosity- how did you two meet again?”
Jo raised her eyebrow in a way that said don’t fuck with me Dean Winchester, I am in no mood for your shit and furthermore I am wearing large pointy high heels that would love to make the acquaintance of your foot right now, but she answered with a smile. “See that woman over by the window, in the purple dress? That’s Ella. I used to babysit for her kids, when we lived closer to Philly. I came back for a visit, and she decided to play matchmaker.”
“Ella told me I should check out some of Jo’s stories, and it was love at first read,” Ezra said. “I had honestly never been interested in horror before, but the way she used the monsters as a metaphor for interpersonal dynamics, especially within families…”
“Metaphors?” Dean said pointedly to Jo.
“Darling, your Master’s degree is showing,” Jo said to her groom. “And we still have some people to say hello to.” They said polite goodbyes and swept off to the next table, holding hands.
“Metaphors?”
“They’re a type of figurative language, where you-”
“Shut up, I know what a metaphor is.”
***
The lack of a live band at the reception was even more despicable to Dean than the music in the ceremony. However, the DJ was good and the bar was open, so his complaints didn’t last very long.
“Hey, check out this girl over here,” Sam said.
“Bridesmaid? Long hair?”
“Yeah.”
“Sammy, you know the only brunettes I sleep with are the ones I have meaningful but doomed relationships with. Tonight I’m looking for a blond.” Dean’s eyes focused on a red dress out on the dance floor. “And I found her. Debbie Downer over there’s all yours.” With that, he disappeared into the crowd.
The girl was standing by the bar, holding a pink drink and shredding the paper umbrella that had come with it. Sam sidled up to her. “Hey there.”
She looked up at him. “Um, hi.” Her eyes slid back to the dance floor.
Sam ordered a drink, just for something to do. “This is the only part of weddings I don’t like,” he said. “I’m a terrible dancer.”
The girl glanced at him again, and her mouth twisted. “Everyone says that.”
“Maybe everyone really is terrible. My name’s Sam, by the way.”
“Aria. Nice to meet you.” Her eye make-up looked as though it had been wiped off and hastily reapplied in the recent past.
“How do you know Jo?”
“She used to be my babysitter.” Aria wrinkled her nose a little. “When I was a kid.”
“Huh. So was your mom the one who introduced her to Ezra?”
“Yup, she was Hello Dolly for a day.”
“What do you think of this guy?”
“He’s… great. Yeah, he and Jo are… good together.”
Ahh, Sam thought. I get it now. “Personally, I think he looks like kind of a wimp. Jo probably told him he had to marry her if she beat him at arm-wrestling.”
This startled a laugh out of Aria. “You know, I can totally see it.” She cocked her head. “How do you know Jo?”
“Well, our dads used to-”
“Sam!” Dean came at them, practically running.
“Dean, what’s the matter? Can’t you-”
“That girl over there- big silver earrings, little black dress. She look familiar to you?”
“No, she…” The girl turned and he recognized her- the witch who raised Samhain and broke a seal. But that was impossible; he’d seen her get her neck snapped years ago…
Aria leaned around Sam. “Are you talking about Hanna? She’s my date.” She grinned and wrinkled her nose again, in a way that said We’re not lesbians, not that there’s anything wrong with being a lesbian, some of my best friends are lesbians. But we’re not.
“How long have you two known each other?” Sam asked.
“Since she moved here, start of high school.”
Dean had gotten good at guessing how old girls were, as a matter of self-preservation. That added up.
“You should go ask her to dance. She just broke up with her boyfriend, and she’s could use a pick-me-up.”
“Yeah Dean, why don’t you go ask her to dance,” Sam said, making meaningful eye contact with his brother. “I’ll be right over here.”
***
The witch turned around before he could tap her on the shoulder. He’d gotten closer to be sure, and now he was.
“Tracy.”
“Actually, it’s Hanna. Dance?”
A slow song started, and Dean found himself placing his hands on her lower back. Fucking witches. “How are you even here?” he whispered in her ear. “I watched you die, you bitch.”
“Witches have nine lives. Kind of like cats.”
“Bullshit.”
He felt her shrug. “Hell can be downright hospitable to anyone they think is helping them. I was owed a few favors.”
That was intriguing. Maybe she could answer a few questions before he re-broke her neck.
“I know what you’re thinking, Dean. I can’t tell you anything about Hell, or help you catch any demons. And you can’t kill me in front of all these people.”
“Don’t think you’re leaving here. My brother is-”
“Making out with my date,” Hannah said, swaying so that the bar came into Dean’s line of vision. There was Sam, his backup, his insurance, sucking face with the brunette bridesmaid. “Besides, times change. I’m just your average tree-hugging Wiccan these days.”
“I’m supposed to believe that?”
The song ended, and Hanna pulled away from Dean. “If I wasn’t, would I have this?” She held out her wrist. The charms on her silver bracelet were powerful ward-evils, and when Dean touched one, he could feel it buzzing with white magic. Hannah dropped her arm. “I just had a bad boyfriend. Don’t tell me you’ve never done anything stupid because of love.”
“So what now?”
“Get me a drink?”
“I still hate witches.” But he followed her off the dance floor anyways. He moved towards Sam, who had thankfully disentangled himself from his new friend.
The witch went straight to the bridesmaid, and they began to whisper and giggle. “Right back guys,” the witch said, winking at Dean. “We need to go powder our noses.”
As soon as they were out of earshot, Sam turned to Dean. “What’s going on with Tracy?”
“Well, Tracy is Hanna, and she’s... gone lightside? I don’t even know. But I think maybe we should keep an eye on her.”
“Listen, that’s great,” Sam said. “But I have a big favor to ask you.”
Three hours later…
“This sucks.”
“Quit whining, you baby.”
“I’ve stayed in some shitty motel rooms, but I’ve always had a bed.”
Hanna patted the spot next to her and wiggled her eyebrows. “You can sleep in the bed.”
Dean scowled at her from the couch. “My own bed.”
“Suit yourself. I’m going to watch TV.” Hanna grabbed the remote. “Where is VH1… ah-ha.”
And I was like baby, baby, baby ohh…
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Hey, don’t mock The Biebs. You don’t know The Biebs, you don’t understand The Biebs.”
“What in God’s name is a Biebs?”
Finis.
Fandom: Supernatural/Pretty Little Liars (TV Show) Crossover
Rating/Warnings: Some strong language
Word Count: 2,000~
Summary: AU/Crack. Sam and Dean get invited to Jo and Ezra’s wedding.
Author’s Notes: I think this requires a little bit of explaining. This is a birthday present for my roommate, set in the combined universes of two of our favorite shows. Supernatural just has so many crossover-inducing guest stars. Sorry I broke up your favorite couple, Ashley, but I think Aria gets a pretty good consolation prize. Thanks to other roommates dreamscapemusic and Kayla for consulting and betaing. You guys are the best!
“Yeah, we’ll be there as soon as we can. Thanks, Bobby,” Sam said and then shut his phone.
“What’s up?” Dean asked, glancing at his brother as he drove.
“Bobby’s got something for us.”
“A job?”
“No.” Sam looked perplexed. “An invitation.”
Joanna Beth Harvelle
and
Ezra Malcolm Fitz
Together with their parents
request the honor of your presence
at the celebration of their marriage
Saturday, the twenty-seventh of September…
“Have you met this guy, Bobby?” Sam asked.
“No, but Ellen’s been raving about him for months now. When things started getting serious, we dug a little, and he checked out clean- he’s a school teacher, and that’s all he’s ever been.”
“He’s a school teacher, and Jo is a hunter!” Dean said, waving his half-empty bottle for emphasis. “How could this possibly be a good idea?”
The swig of beer Sam had just taken went down the wrong pipe, resulting in a cough that ended in “-ealous” and earned him a dirty look from Dean.
“I told you already, she’s giving it up,” Bobby said. “Her writing’s takin’ off; she’s got herself an agent in Philly. Says she wants to settle down and have kids. Ellen’s pleased as punch.”
“Just because you give up hunting doesn’t mean it gives up on you.”
“That may be true of our family, Dean, but we’re not exactly your average hunters,” Sam said.
Dean sighed. “All right. This shindig’s in two weeks. We got decent suits?”
“I think the last ones were wrecked during the haunted opera job.”
“Ugh. Time to go shopping.”
***
“Bride’s side, or groom’s?”
“Bride’s,” Sam answered.
The usher led Sam and Dean down the aisle of the small chapel. Sam nodded in thanks and slid into the pew where Bobby was already seated.
Dean looked at the program. “Vivaldi? Mendelssohn? Who picked this music?”
Sam shrugged. “It’s a wedding; it’s tradition.”
“Is it in the damn Bible? Thou shalt not have good music at thine own hitching?”
“All right, Dean, what would you process out to?”
“Jungle Love, Steve Miller Band.”
“You answered that way too quickly.”
“Will you two shut your traps?” Bobby hissed. “They’re startin’.”
The organ started to play, silencing their conversation. Sam didn’t recognize any of the wedding party. He realized he’d never met any of Jo’s female friends, five of whom were now walking down the aisle in dark green dresses, arm in arm with tuxedoed men in matching vests.
“Check out the groom,” Dean whispered. “What a pussy.”
Sam elbowed Dean to be quiet, but part of him agreed. Ezra Fitz had a wasting look to him, like a nineteenth century poet suffering from a bad case of consumption, or whatever it was those guys were always dying tragically of. Then again, maybe every average guy started to look like a pussy when you were Dean Winchester.
Then Jo came down the aisle, her hand resting on Ellen’s arm. Her dress was short-ish (as far as Sam could tell, he had limited experience with weddings) and cream colored. Completely free of frills, but that was Jo, of course. She passed within feet of Sam and Dean but didn’t look in their direction. Her smile was only for one person.
Sam looked towards the altar. Ezra’s expression was more solemn than Jo’s, but his eyes were filling up with tears. So were most of the bridesmaids’ eyes. Except for the one standing on the end- a stunning brunette, who was openly weeping.
***
The reception was, effectively, a hunter reunion.
“Shouldn’t My Size Ken have a big Irish Catholic family?” Dean asked over dinner.
“Fitz as a prefix is Irish, but alone it’s German,” Sam said.
“So he’s a Nazi,” Dean said.
“Give it a rest, would you?”
The groom’s family was outnumbered, and they were keeping to themselves, looking uncomfortable. After the cocktail hour, some of Jo’s guests had started to take their jackets off, at which point it became obvious that those who were not packing heat were bristling with knives.
“Sam! Dean! Oh my God, it’s so good to see you!”
“Jo,” Sam stood up and hugged her. “It’s good to see you too. You look beautiful.”
“Yeah, nice dress,” Dean added.
“Guys, this is Ezra. Ezra, Sam and Dean.”
“It’s so good to meet you,” Ezra said, shaking their hands. “I’ve heard so many stories about you.”
“Like what?” Dean asked.
“The phrase ‘older brothers I never had’ gets bandied around a lot.”
“Oh really,” Dean said. “In that case, you’ll forgive me a little brotherly curiosity- how did you two meet again?”
Jo raised her eyebrow in a way that said don’t fuck with me Dean Winchester, I am in no mood for your shit and furthermore I am wearing large pointy high heels that would love to make the acquaintance of your foot right now, but she answered with a smile. “See that woman over by the window, in the purple dress? That’s Ella. I used to babysit for her kids, when we lived closer to Philly. I came back for a visit, and she decided to play matchmaker.”
“Ella told me I should check out some of Jo’s stories, and it was love at first read,” Ezra said. “I had honestly never been interested in horror before, but the way she used the monsters as a metaphor for interpersonal dynamics, especially within families…”
“Metaphors?” Dean said pointedly to Jo.
“Darling, your Master’s degree is showing,” Jo said to her groom. “And we still have some people to say hello to.” They said polite goodbyes and swept off to the next table, holding hands.
“Metaphors?”
“They’re a type of figurative language, where you-”
“Shut up, I know what a metaphor is.”
***
The lack of a live band at the reception was even more despicable to Dean than the music in the ceremony. However, the DJ was good and the bar was open, so his complaints didn’t last very long.
“Hey, check out this girl over here,” Sam said.
“Bridesmaid? Long hair?”
“Yeah.”
“Sammy, you know the only brunettes I sleep with are the ones I have meaningful but doomed relationships with. Tonight I’m looking for a blond.” Dean’s eyes focused on a red dress out on the dance floor. “And I found her. Debbie Downer over there’s all yours.” With that, he disappeared into the crowd.
The girl was standing by the bar, holding a pink drink and shredding the paper umbrella that had come with it. Sam sidled up to her. “Hey there.”
She looked up at him. “Um, hi.” Her eyes slid back to the dance floor.
Sam ordered a drink, just for something to do. “This is the only part of weddings I don’t like,” he said. “I’m a terrible dancer.”
The girl glanced at him again, and her mouth twisted. “Everyone says that.”
“Maybe everyone really is terrible. My name’s Sam, by the way.”
“Aria. Nice to meet you.” Her eye make-up looked as though it had been wiped off and hastily reapplied in the recent past.
“How do you know Jo?”
“She used to be my babysitter.” Aria wrinkled her nose a little. “When I was a kid.”
“Huh. So was your mom the one who introduced her to Ezra?”
“Yup, she was Hello Dolly for a day.”
“What do you think of this guy?”
“He’s… great. Yeah, he and Jo are… good together.”
Ahh, Sam thought. I get it now. “Personally, I think he looks like kind of a wimp. Jo probably told him he had to marry her if she beat him at arm-wrestling.”
This startled a laugh out of Aria. “You know, I can totally see it.” She cocked her head. “How do you know Jo?”
“Well, our dads used to-”
“Sam!” Dean came at them, practically running.
“Dean, what’s the matter? Can’t you-”
“That girl over there- big silver earrings, little black dress. She look familiar to you?”
“No, she…” The girl turned and he recognized her- the witch who raised Samhain and broke a seal. But that was impossible; he’d seen her get her neck snapped years ago…
Aria leaned around Sam. “Are you talking about Hanna? She’s my date.” She grinned and wrinkled her nose again, in a way that said We’re not lesbians, not that there’s anything wrong with being a lesbian, some of my best friends are lesbians. But we’re not.
“How long have you two known each other?” Sam asked.
“Since she moved here, start of high school.”
Dean had gotten good at guessing how old girls were, as a matter of self-preservation. That added up.
“You should go ask her to dance. She just broke up with her boyfriend, and she’s could use a pick-me-up.”
“Yeah Dean, why don’t you go ask her to dance,” Sam said, making meaningful eye contact with his brother. “I’ll be right over here.”
***
The witch turned around before he could tap her on the shoulder. He’d gotten closer to be sure, and now he was.
“Tracy.”
“Actually, it’s Hanna. Dance?”
A slow song started, and Dean found himself placing his hands on her lower back. Fucking witches. “How are you even here?” he whispered in her ear. “I watched you die, you bitch.”
“Witches have nine lives. Kind of like cats.”
“Bullshit.”
He felt her shrug. “Hell can be downright hospitable to anyone they think is helping them. I was owed a few favors.”
That was intriguing. Maybe she could answer a few questions before he re-broke her neck.
“I know what you’re thinking, Dean. I can’t tell you anything about Hell, or help you catch any demons. And you can’t kill me in front of all these people.”
“Don’t think you’re leaving here. My brother is-”
“Making out with my date,” Hannah said, swaying so that the bar came into Dean’s line of vision. There was Sam, his backup, his insurance, sucking face with the brunette bridesmaid. “Besides, times change. I’m just your average tree-hugging Wiccan these days.”
“I’m supposed to believe that?”
The song ended, and Hanna pulled away from Dean. “If I wasn’t, would I have this?” She held out her wrist. The charms on her silver bracelet were powerful ward-evils, and when Dean touched one, he could feel it buzzing with white magic. Hannah dropped her arm. “I just had a bad boyfriend. Don’t tell me you’ve never done anything stupid because of love.”
“So what now?”
“Get me a drink?”
“I still hate witches.” But he followed her off the dance floor anyways. He moved towards Sam, who had thankfully disentangled himself from his new friend.
The witch went straight to the bridesmaid, and they began to whisper and giggle. “Right back guys,” the witch said, winking at Dean. “We need to go powder our noses.”
As soon as they were out of earshot, Sam turned to Dean. “What’s going on with Tracy?”
“Well, Tracy is Hanna, and she’s... gone lightside? I don’t even know. But I think maybe we should keep an eye on her.”
“Listen, that’s great,” Sam said. “But I have a big favor to ask you.”
Three hours later…
“This sucks.”
“Quit whining, you baby.”
“I’ve stayed in some shitty motel rooms, but I’ve always had a bed.”
Hanna patted the spot next to her and wiggled her eyebrows. “You can sleep in the bed.”
Dean scowled at her from the couch. “My own bed.”
“Suit yourself. I’m going to watch TV.” Hanna grabbed the remote. “Where is VH1… ah-ha.”
And I was like baby, baby, baby ohh…
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Hey, don’t mock The Biebs. You don’t know The Biebs, you don’t understand The Biebs.”
“What in God’s name is a Biebs?”
Finis.