Story: Duckpocalypse Now: (Supernatural/Darkwing Duck): (8/10)
Title: Duckpocalypse Now
Author:
patriciatepes
Artist:
twisted_slinky
Fandom: Supernatural/Darkwing Duck
Chapter: Prev | Next
Rating/Contents: PG-13
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Darkwing, Gosalyn, Launchpad, Morgana, with a special guest star later!
Warnings: Um… cartoonish violence, spoilers for previous Buffy/Darkwing xover, The Building Blocks of Good and Evil, light swearing
Summary: Set after The Building Blocks of Good and Evil (an interlude story). SPN S6. While on an ordinary hunt, Sam and Dean find themselves pulled into an unusual circumstance. They arrive in St. Canard and meet Darkwing and co. just in time for the main event: another attempt at an apocalypse.
Disclaimer: I don't own Darkwing Duck, Supernatural, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or any related characters. DW belongs to Disney, SPN belongs to Kripke, and Buffy belongs to Whedon. For fun only.
Author's Notes: *laughs evilly* I am the chosen one! I, alone, have the power to take this plot seriously! *laughs evilly a bit more* Okay, but seriously, this is set in the same universe as The Building Blocks of Good and Evil, and it's set in between that story and its yet-to-be-written sequel, Devil You Don't Know. Although this is technically a three-way crossover between Darkwing Duck, Supernatural, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, it is mostly between Darkwing Duck and Supernatural. Anything you don't know about what happened in Building Blocks will be revealed here. You won't need to read the other story, and you won't really need to know too much about the Buffy universe. I'll reveal everything you need to know. (So it's spoilry for that other story, if you're interested in it.) That being said, enjoy!
Chapter Eight: In Which Sam Figures it Out
The Ratcatcher-moving at much greater speeds, now with only three passengers, instead of the five it had previously held-came to a screeching halt across the road from the skyscraper that was becoming Splatter Phoenix's personal art project. The image she was painting was progressing, albeit slowly given its size. It started at about halfway up the skyscraper, and as it stood, was an oddly shaped crimson blob. Vaguely, it looked like it was tapered in its center, but besides that, there was no discernable feature to it.
Darkwing, Gosalyn, and Dean got off the bike, staring up at the building. Splatter Phoenix was suspended from a trolley-not unlike one a window washer would use-her back to the growing crowd of civilians and cops below. Dean looked worriedly around.
"I thought we just had to run from the boys in blue?" he said, jerking a thumb at the cops that were literally dressed in blue uniforms.
"I think we can all agree we have, ahem, bigger problems," Darkwing said, his gaze looking between Dean and Splatter Phoenix.
He pulled a megaphone out from within his cape, and Dean rolled his eyes.
"This is too much," he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Splatter… you're looking… better. Not at all like a puddle of paint," Darkwing called through the device.
The mass of black turned, and Dean could now make out the white of Splatter's feathers. She made some sort of weird motion with her hand, and, if the eldest Winchester wasn't mistake, a megaphone of her own appeared out of thin air. Gosalyn sighed.
"I was hoping that that wasn't her paintbrush."
"Magic?" Dean asked.
Gosalyn shrugged. "Who knows anymore?"
Dean mimicked Gosalyn. "Fair enough."
"The time has come!" a rich, almost attractive feminine voice called down to them. Dean looked up to see that Splatter had moved the megaphone close to her beak. "The bourgeoisie that run this world will fall before him! The end comes! He has chosen me! He has shown me!"
With that, she dropped the megaphone, turning back to her burgeoning art piece. Dean's brow furrowed as he looked over to the purple-clad duck and his daughter. Gosalyn looked confused, while Darkwing looked like the perfect mixture of confused and concerned.
"Welp… that's new," he admitted. With a sigh, he lifted his megaphone, "Splatter Phoenix… step away from the painting!"
"Nice, Dad… full of your usual bravado," Gosalyn groaned, rolling eyes.
"It's been a long day," he snipped back.
"Guys, you might wanna be paying attention," Dean said, pointing to the crazy artist.
Splatter had lowered her trolley just a bit, moving to the side of where her current work on her painting was, and began to paint something in black. With a few strokes of her brush, mounds of ink shaped like boulders-but with muscled arms and legs-were formed… and began peeling their way off of the building. Dean's eyes widened as they fell, splashing into a puddle, only to reform. She painted several of the creatures, one after another, sending them on their way.
Darkwing chuckled, pulling lightly at the collar of his turtleneck. "It's, hehe, been a while since I've bought any turpentine."
Gosalyn whirled on her father. "So you don't have any? You're a superhero! You're supposed to be prepared for anything!"
Darkwing threw his hands into the air. "I thought she was a puddle! Splash-gone! It's not like I have any other paint-based enemies, Gosalyn, and this cape only holds so much!"
"So it's not like Mary Poppins' bag? That's good to know," Dean said.
One of the ink monsters had made it to Dean, who just lifted his foot-up as high as it could go-and squished it into the ground. He had a bad feeling that it wasn't going to be as simple as all that, but it bought them another moment or two. Two of the creatures moved in on Darkwing and Gosalyn, both squashing them in their own way-Gosalyn with a huge jump and stomp; Darkwing with a graceful front flip-as Dean put his attention back on the skyscraper, where Splatter was continuing her larger masterpiece.
"Guys… there's something about what she's painting on that building… I just can't put my finger on it," Dean said. "Is it starting to look like vaguely familiar to you? Cause it is me."
Darkwing moved to stand beside Dean, gazing up at the skyscraper.
"You know… now that you mention it, it does seem familiar."
They had no more time to ponder on this, as another small squadron of ink golems began to head their way. Dean started stomping, shaking off the ones that managed to get close enough to grasp at his arms. He could only hope that Sam and the rest were having better luck figuring things out than they were.
#
Launchpad nearly fell out of his seat as Castiel-still, laughably, in his duck-oriented meatsuit-appeared right next to him. Sam, thoroughly used to the angel's abrupt comings and goings, glanced up from the books he was buried in, raising a brow at him.
"What's up, Cas? Where have you been?" he asked.
He turned his featured body toward Sam, a stern look on his beaked face. "I believe I have part of the solution to bringing you and Dean home. However, it would require a specific spell. One that I don't possess."
"Oh, I've got that covered," Willow's flame said, flickering gently within its glass orb.
Castiel turned toward the orb, his brows knitted together. The flame chuckled lightly.
"All I'm missing is the juice to power it," she added.
The angel nodded once at the orb. "I have the juice."
Sam, Launchpad, and Morgana all swapped confused looks. There was a moment of silence, only minorly disturbed by the rustling of the many pages of the many books laying open at the round table Morgana had conjured for Sam and Launchpad. Willow-Flame cleared her throat.
"Um, just to be clear, I can't see into this world when I'm like this. So, who exactly did I just have that exchange with?"
Sam couldn't help but chuckle a moment before he answered. "It was Castiel."
"Hello," Castiel said.
"Oh, the angel? Cool. I'm Willow, by the way. A witch from yet another dimension."
"Pleasure," Castiel said, and Sam had to smother the smile forming on his face, the sentiment had been so stiffly spoken.
"Well, now that we're all acquainted," Morgana began, "Castiel, what power source are you using?"
He hesitated, just a moment, his beak opening slightly as he seemed to debate his words. Sam stared at him, confused, but before he could make mention of it, the duck-wearing angel found his voice.
"You call it a Hellmouth… but that's incorrect. It is actually a portal into Purgatory. I intend to use the power of the portal to send Sam and Dean home," he explained.
Purgatory. Sam glanced down at the books, as if this revelation was going to suddenly speed his translation. But that was a revelation more useful to them back in their own world. Sam pulled his eyes back up at the angel.
"Purgatory? Are you sure?"
He only nodded in response. Launchpad scratched his head, but remained silent, staring down at the book in front of him. Sam, encouraged, pressed the conversation further.
"Do these Hellmouths exist in our world? Maybe, when we get home, we could-"
But Castiel held up a hand, shaking his head. "No. I've looked in to it. Ours were all destroyed long ago."
"There's a lot of power in that Hellmouth," Morgana noted.
"Yeah, it sure did a doozy on the city while Buffy was here," Launchpad noted.
"Is it safe to use?" Sam asked the group at large.
"I would absorb the power just long enough to expel it into the spellcasting, sending you two home. Afterwards, the Hellmouth would cease to exist. I believe, given the circumstances, it should be perfectly safe," the angel answered.
"Hmm," Morgana mused. "Willow… how long would that spell take to set up?"
"Give or take… like an hour, I think," the flame replied.
The duck-witch nodded once. "Then you should both get started."
Sam's eyes widened. "What? Morgana, no! We haven't stopped this apocalypse yet!"
But she held up her hands plaintively. "In case we don't, then it won't be yours and Dean's problem anymore. You've done more than enough to help, and this isn't your fault. You've done nothing to trigger any breaking of seals as far as I can tell. You're just innocent bystanders. So, in an hour… you should be home."
"But-" the younger Winchester tried to argue, but Morgana crossed her arms, turning away.
"It's happening," she said.
"Well, in that case, we should probably head to the source of the power-the Hellmouth… you know, assuming I'm still in Morg's sitting room," Willow said.
"I could absorb it and just bring it here. There will still be monsters abound, especially with the impending apocalypse," Castiel offered.
"No offense, Mr. Angel, but that would be the dumbest idea ever. You could hold the power for a moment, sure. For a minute, maybe. Any longer that and you would probably go nuclear all over Morg's house. We'll just go there. Besides, flame in an orb, totally portable."
Morgana moved over to her shelves, and disappeared into the rooms beyond the sitting room, returning with a sack of items. She thrust them into Castiel's hands, as he also gently juggled the glass orb.
"Go get it set up," the duck-witch ordered.
In a flash, Castiel and Flame-Willow were gone. With that, silence returned, and Morgana took a seat at the rounded table. Only the sound of pages turning and notes being scribbled were heard. Sam thought his eyes were going to cross soon, but he knew he was at least making some headway. Most of the words in the last two seals were readable… just not in any way that was making any sense.
It went on like this for what felt like forever, glancing back and forth between books and making notes about possible translations. No one spoke. No one looked up from their resources. And, after a while, Sam was starting to feel a little paranoid. Dean hadn't called. Not that he had said he would, but… had something happened with this Splatter Phoenix?
Morgana must have been having the same thought. She stood, muttering a, "I can't take it," and turned the television on. Immediately, the local news broadcast was on, showing a small army of-what looked like-ink creatures attacking local citizens, police force, and probably Dean and the others. The three of them just stared at the report for a moment, before Launchpad finally cocked his head to the side.
"Say, does that picture on the skyscraper look familiar to you?" he asked.
Sam squinted, leaning in to the television. There was a shapely red form that made up most of the skyscraper that appeared to be the torso of a woman. A neck and hands were being added, and the way the sleeves ended on the hands… and, the decoration at the throat of the painting… Sam grabbed up the old tome that listed the seals.
"That's it!" he proclaimed. "I knew that word had to be something close! I've got it figured out."
Two sets of eyes rested on him. He read, translating as best he could.
"'The Prophet shall reveal the face of the damned.' The second one is, 'Her blood in Beelzebub's name will open the way.' I think… I think I know why that painting is looking so familiar to us."
"'…of the damned'?" Morgana questioned.
"A sacrifice, the final seal," Sam nodded.
Launchpad gulped. "Seriously?"
"There's always a sacrifice," he added solemnly. "And… I think I know who it's supposed to be."
Morgana began to question, when she suddenly gasped while Launchpad let out a cry. Their eyes were pointed somewhere behind Sam, so he jumped up, ready to turn and face any new threat. Meanwhile, Morgana was beginning a spell of some sort, and Launchpad was readying for a fight.
Something large and heavy hit Sam across the back of his head, and his vision blurred as he slammed back down toward the floor-sliding gracelessly off the table and pulling a few books with him as he went. He heard Launchpad give a frightened yelp that was cut short, and Morgana's spell brought to a premature end as Sam's world went black.
Author:
patriciatepes
Artist:
twisted_slinky
Fandom: Supernatural/Darkwing Duck
Chapter: Prev | Next
Rating/Contents: PG-13
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Darkwing, Gosalyn, Launchpad, Morgana, with a special guest star later!
Warnings: Um… cartoonish violence, spoilers for previous Buffy/Darkwing xover, The Building Blocks of Good and Evil, light swearing
Summary: Set after The Building Blocks of Good and Evil (an interlude story). SPN S6. While on an ordinary hunt, Sam and Dean find themselves pulled into an unusual circumstance. They arrive in St. Canard and meet Darkwing and co. just in time for the main event: another attempt at an apocalypse.
Disclaimer: I don't own Darkwing Duck, Supernatural, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or any related characters. DW belongs to Disney, SPN belongs to Kripke, and Buffy belongs to Whedon. For fun only.
Author's Notes: *laughs evilly* I am the chosen one! I, alone, have the power to take this plot seriously! *laughs evilly a bit more* Okay, but seriously, this is set in the same universe as The Building Blocks of Good and Evil, and it's set in between that story and its yet-to-be-written sequel, Devil You Don't Know. Although this is technically a three-way crossover between Darkwing Duck, Supernatural, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, it is mostly between Darkwing Duck and Supernatural. Anything you don't know about what happened in Building Blocks will be revealed here. You won't need to read the other story, and you won't really need to know too much about the Buffy universe. I'll reveal everything you need to know. (So it's spoilry for that other story, if you're interested in it.) That being said, enjoy!
Chapter Eight: In Which Sam Figures it Out
The Ratcatcher-moving at much greater speeds, now with only three passengers, instead of the five it had previously held-came to a screeching halt across the road from the skyscraper that was becoming Splatter Phoenix's personal art project. The image she was painting was progressing, albeit slowly given its size. It started at about halfway up the skyscraper, and as it stood, was an oddly shaped crimson blob. Vaguely, it looked like it was tapered in its center, but besides that, there was no discernable feature to it.
Darkwing, Gosalyn, and Dean got off the bike, staring up at the building. Splatter Phoenix was suspended from a trolley-not unlike one a window washer would use-her back to the growing crowd of civilians and cops below. Dean looked worriedly around.
"I thought we just had to run from the boys in blue?" he said, jerking a thumb at the cops that were literally dressed in blue uniforms.
"I think we can all agree we have, ahem, bigger problems," Darkwing said, his gaze looking between Dean and Splatter Phoenix.
He pulled a megaphone out from within his cape, and Dean rolled his eyes.
"This is too much," he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Splatter… you're looking… better. Not at all like a puddle of paint," Darkwing called through the device.
The mass of black turned, and Dean could now make out the white of Splatter's feathers. She made some sort of weird motion with her hand, and, if the eldest Winchester wasn't mistake, a megaphone of her own appeared out of thin air. Gosalyn sighed.
"I was hoping that that wasn't her paintbrush."
"Magic?" Dean asked.
Gosalyn shrugged. "Who knows anymore?"
Dean mimicked Gosalyn. "Fair enough."
"The time has come!" a rich, almost attractive feminine voice called down to them. Dean looked up to see that Splatter had moved the megaphone close to her beak. "The bourgeoisie that run this world will fall before him! The end comes! He has chosen me! He has shown me!"
With that, she dropped the megaphone, turning back to her burgeoning art piece. Dean's brow furrowed as he looked over to the purple-clad duck and his daughter. Gosalyn looked confused, while Darkwing looked like the perfect mixture of confused and concerned.
"Welp… that's new," he admitted. With a sigh, he lifted his megaphone, "Splatter Phoenix… step away from the painting!"
"Nice, Dad… full of your usual bravado," Gosalyn groaned, rolling eyes.
"It's been a long day," he snipped back.
"Guys, you might wanna be paying attention," Dean said, pointing to the crazy artist.
Splatter had lowered her trolley just a bit, moving to the side of where her current work on her painting was, and began to paint something in black. With a few strokes of her brush, mounds of ink shaped like boulders-but with muscled arms and legs-were formed… and began peeling their way off of the building. Dean's eyes widened as they fell, splashing into a puddle, only to reform. She painted several of the creatures, one after another, sending them on their way.
Darkwing chuckled, pulling lightly at the collar of his turtleneck. "It's, hehe, been a while since I've bought any turpentine."
Gosalyn whirled on her father. "So you don't have any? You're a superhero! You're supposed to be prepared for anything!"
Darkwing threw his hands into the air. "I thought she was a puddle! Splash-gone! It's not like I have any other paint-based enemies, Gosalyn, and this cape only holds so much!"
"So it's not like Mary Poppins' bag? That's good to know," Dean said.
One of the ink monsters had made it to Dean, who just lifted his foot-up as high as it could go-and squished it into the ground. He had a bad feeling that it wasn't going to be as simple as all that, but it bought them another moment or two. Two of the creatures moved in on Darkwing and Gosalyn, both squashing them in their own way-Gosalyn with a huge jump and stomp; Darkwing with a graceful front flip-as Dean put his attention back on the skyscraper, where Splatter was continuing her larger masterpiece.
"Guys… there's something about what she's painting on that building… I just can't put my finger on it," Dean said. "Is it starting to look like vaguely familiar to you? Cause it is me."
Darkwing moved to stand beside Dean, gazing up at the skyscraper.
"You know… now that you mention it, it does seem familiar."
They had no more time to ponder on this, as another small squadron of ink golems began to head their way. Dean started stomping, shaking off the ones that managed to get close enough to grasp at his arms. He could only hope that Sam and the rest were having better luck figuring things out than they were.
#
Launchpad nearly fell out of his seat as Castiel-still, laughably, in his duck-oriented meatsuit-appeared right next to him. Sam, thoroughly used to the angel's abrupt comings and goings, glanced up from the books he was buried in, raising a brow at him.
"What's up, Cas? Where have you been?" he asked.
He turned his featured body toward Sam, a stern look on his beaked face. "I believe I have part of the solution to bringing you and Dean home. However, it would require a specific spell. One that I don't possess."
"Oh, I've got that covered," Willow's flame said, flickering gently within its glass orb.
Castiel turned toward the orb, his brows knitted together. The flame chuckled lightly.
"All I'm missing is the juice to power it," she added.
The angel nodded once at the orb. "I have the juice."
Sam, Launchpad, and Morgana all swapped confused looks. There was a moment of silence, only minorly disturbed by the rustling of the many pages of the many books laying open at the round table Morgana had conjured for Sam and Launchpad. Willow-Flame cleared her throat.
"Um, just to be clear, I can't see into this world when I'm like this. So, who exactly did I just have that exchange with?"
Sam couldn't help but chuckle a moment before he answered. "It was Castiel."
"Hello," Castiel said.
"Oh, the angel? Cool. I'm Willow, by the way. A witch from yet another dimension."
"Pleasure," Castiel said, and Sam had to smother the smile forming on his face, the sentiment had been so stiffly spoken.
"Well, now that we're all acquainted," Morgana began, "Castiel, what power source are you using?"
He hesitated, just a moment, his beak opening slightly as he seemed to debate his words. Sam stared at him, confused, but before he could make mention of it, the duck-wearing angel found his voice.
"You call it a Hellmouth… but that's incorrect. It is actually a portal into Purgatory. I intend to use the power of the portal to send Sam and Dean home," he explained.
Purgatory. Sam glanced down at the books, as if this revelation was going to suddenly speed his translation. But that was a revelation more useful to them back in their own world. Sam pulled his eyes back up at the angel.
"Purgatory? Are you sure?"
He only nodded in response. Launchpad scratched his head, but remained silent, staring down at the book in front of him. Sam, encouraged, pressed the conversation further.
"Do these Hellmouths exist in our world? Maybe, when we get home, we could-"
But Castiel held up a hand, shaking his head. "No. I've looked in to it. Ours were all destroyed long ago."
"There's a lot of power in that Hellmouth," Morgana noted.
"Yeah, it sure did a doozy on the city while Buffy was here," Launchpad noted.
"Is it safe to use?" Sam asked the group at large.
"I would absorb the power just long enough to expel it into the spellcasting, sending you two home. Afterwards, the Hellmouth would cease to exist. I believe, given the circumstances, it should be perfectly safe," the angel answered.
"Hmm," Morgana mused. "Willow… how long would that spell take to set up?"
"Give or take… like an hour, I think," the flame replied.
The duck-witch nodded once. "Then you should both get started."
Sam's eyes widened. "What? Morgana, no! We haven't stopped this apocalypse yet!"
But she held up her hands plaintively. "In case we don't, then it won't be yours and Dean's problem anymore. You've done more than enough to help, and this isn't your fault. You've done nothing to trigger any breaking of seals as far as I can tell. You're just innocent bystanders. So, in an hour… you should be home."
"But-" the younger Winchester tried to argue, but Morgana crossed her arms, turning away.
"It's happening," she said.
"Well, in that case, we should probably head to the source of the power-the Hellmouth… you know, assuming I'm still in Morg's sitting room," Willow said.
"I could absorb it and just bring it here. There will still be monsters abound, especially with the impending apocalypse," Castiel offered.
"No offense, Mr. Angel, but that would be the dumbest idea ever. You could hold the power for a moment, sure. For a minute, maybe. Any longer that and you would probably go nuclear all over Morg's house. We'll just go there. Besides, flame in an orb, totally portable."
Morgana moved over to her shelves, and disappeared into the rooms beyond the sitting room, returning with a sack of items. She thrust them into Castiel's hands, as he also gently juggled the glass orb.
"Go get it set up," the duck-witch ordered.
In a flash, Castiel and Flame-Willow were gone. With that, silence returned, and Morgana took a seat at the rounded table. Only the sound of pages turning and notes being scribbled were heard. Sam thought his eyes were going to cross soon, but he knew he was at least making some headway. Most of the words in the last two seals were readable… just not in any way that was making any sense.
It went on like this for what felt like forever, glancing back and forth between books and making notes about possible translations. No one spoke. No one looked up from their resources. And, after a while, Sam was starting to feel a little paranoid. Dean hadn't called. Not that he had said he would, but… had something happened with this Splatter Phoenix?
Morgana must have been having the same thought. She stood, muttering a, "I can't take it," and turned the television on. Immediately, the local news broadcast was on, showing a small army of-what looked like-ink creatures attacking local citizens, police force, and probably Dean and the others. The three of them just stared at the report for a moment, before Launchpad finally cocked his head to the side.
"Say, does that picture on the skyscraper look familiar to you?" he asked.
Sam squinted, leaning in to the television. There was a shapely red form that made up most of the skyscraper that appeared to be the torso of a woman. A neck and hands were being added, and the way the sleeves ended on the hands… and, the decoration at the throat of the painting… Sam grabbed up the old tome that listed the seals.
"That's it!" he proclaimed. "I knew that word had to be something close! I've got it figured out."
Two sets of eyes rested on him. He read, translating as best he could.
"'The Prophet shall reveal the face of the damned.' The second one is, 'Her blood in Beelzebub's name will open the way.' I think… I think I know why that painting is looking so familiar to us."
"'…of the damned'?" Morgana questioned.
"A sacrifice, the final seal," Sam nodded.
Launchpad gulped. "Seriously?"
"There's always a sacrifice," he added solemnly. "And… I think I know who it's supposed to be."
Morgana began to question, when she suddenly gasped while Launchpad let out a cry. Their eyes were pointed somewhere behind Sam, so he jumped up, ready to turn and face any new threat. Meanwhile, Morgana was beginning a spell of some sort, and Launchpad was readying for a fight.
Something large and heavy hit Sam across the back of his head, and his vision blurred as he slammed back down toward the floor-sliding gracelessly off the table and pulling a few books with him as he went. He heard Launchpad give a frightened yelp that was cut short, and Morgana's spell brought to a premature end as Sam's world went black.