Faith, Hope and Love, Angel/Supernatural, PG
CYA Ficathon Assignment
Title: Faith, Hope and Love
Fandom: Crossover with Angel the Series and Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Angel/Wesley, Sam, Dean (kind of Sam/Dean at the end if you squint)
Rating: PG to PG-13 (not sure about the line here)
Word Count: 5536 (Dude...it's the neverending fic!)
Summary: Angel and Wesley are in a small town in Upstate NY investigating an unusual death. There is talk of headless horsemen. Sam and Dean are in the same small town with the same purposes. Paths cross, theories abound. But nothing is what it appears and the ending is elusive...like that damn headless horseman.
Warnings & A/N: I apologize for the length and rambly-ness. I thought I knew what I was doing. It kept morphing. It had a mind of its own. There is no porn. There is sort of schloompy cuteness in places. There is random abuse of the word "Dude". Beyond that, I don't know what to say.
The request was: I'd love a crossover with Wes/Angel and Supernatural. If you feel like fooling around with the timelines, Wesley's early days with Angel would be fun, but if you'd rather they aligned a little more closely, that's fine. There's a small town in Idaho or Maine or somewhere remote, and a legend Wesley isn't sure he believes in, but Angel insists they check it out. And Sam and Dean are in the same town for the same reason... You can never go wrong with angst. Everything else is up to you.
“Tell me again why it is we’re here?” Wesley asked, shivering a little as he pulled his jacket tighter around him.
“Because, Wes, it’s what we do.”
Wesley snorted and looked at Angel. “Since when?”
“Helping the helpless?” Angel stopped and turned back to Wesley. “Remember?”
“Angel.” Wesley looked like he was scolding a child. “We don’t know that there are any helpless here. We don’t know-“
“Headless corpse? Ring a bell?” Angel had his hands on his hips. “You’re the one who mentioned remembering a story about the headless horseman-“
“A headless horseman, Angel, not ‘the’ headless horseman. We’re in the wrong part of New England for that.”
“Whatever. Supernatural beastie, right?”
Wesley shook his head. “I’m not even sure that I’ve remembered the story correctly. You didn’t give me a chance to look it up.”
“We were already here.”
“Here? We were in New York City, Angel. This is nearly an 8 hour drive from there.”
Angel looked around them at the trees and mossy rocks and had to concede that point. Upstate New York, nearly an hour from dawn. They’d been traipsing the woods since nightfall and found nothing. “Okay. So we go back to the motel, do some research. Maybe call Cordy get her to work on getting us the police reports.”
“Angel…this is-“
“Wes.” Angel stepped close. “Relax. Cordelia already told us to take our time getting back. There’s nothing that needs us in LA.”
“But-“
Angel stepped closer and kissed him. “Stop. We’re here, together. We don’t have to hide anything, we don’t have to be anywhere. I want this, okay?”
Wesley nodded. He wasn’t relaxed, but he could give in to that. In fact, he gave in to Angel all too easily these days. “Okay. But I want it on record that I don’t think this is our sort of…demon?”
“Is that a statement Wes, or a question?”
“Look.” Wesley moved away and squatted beside a tree. There was a viscous liquid clinging to the trunk, green and almost glowing. “It could be…” He picked up a stick and pulled some from the trunk, sniffing it and then dropping the stick. “Yes, blood.”
“Can you tell what kind?”
Wesley made a face and stood up, moving away. “It will be dawn soon, let’s head back to the car.” He started back the way they came. “I’ll make a list of demons that have blood that might be green and smell of sulfur.”
“That should be a short list.” Angel said, jogging to catch up.
Wesley nodded. “I don’t think this is what killed that man, though.”
“No?”
“No. What would a demon need with a human head?”
“Trophy?”
Wesley opened the car door as they reached it. “Perhaps. It’s too early to speculate I suppose.”
“Dean?”
“Hmmm?”
“Dean.”
“What?”
Sam sighed and smacked his brother’s arm. “Look.”
Dean pulled his eyes up out of the newspaper he was scanning and followed Sam’s gaze. Two men had just entered the diner, looking more out of place than the Winchester brothers. “Not my type, Dude,” he joked and went back to the newspaper.
“Funny. They aren’t from around here. I saw them at the motel.” Sam watched the taller of the two as he scanned the diner.
“Forget it, they’re probably just passing through. Look, the article says the head was never recovered.” He pushed the paper across the table.
Sam took it, picking out the lines Dean had marked. “Okay, so what are we thinking?”
Dean made a face and munched a French fry. “We can rule out a werewolf or wendingo…there was no mutilation.”
“Angry spirit, maybe?” Sam frowned. “It says he was taken off a back road through the woods.”
“So?”
“Well, that kind of narrows the possibilities. We should hit the library in the morning, see if there’s any local folklore.”
“What about tonight?” Dean glanced at his watch. “It’s early. We could head out to the spot where they found his motorcycle, see if we pick up anything.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, okay. You gonna eat that?”
“We’ve already done this, Angel.”
“We may have missed something, Wes. Just relax.” Angel picked his way over a fallen tree trunk, and turned to help Wesley, only to have his hand batted away.
“I am not some maid in distress here, Angel, I’m perfectly capable of-hmpf.” Wesley recovered quickly from his misstep, only to have Angel grab his wrist and pull him down behind the tree.
“Shh…someone’s out there.” Angel whispered, pulling Wesley closer. Wesley could feel the solid, cool presence of the vampire behind him, feel the way his body heat moved toward Angel as they pressed together.
“I’m telling you Dean, someone is out here. I heard him.”
“Who him?”
“English…Hey, Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“If this is where they found the motorcycle, shouldn’t there be more blood?”
“Maybe he wasn’t killed here.”
“Well, that’s less than helpful.”
Dean grinned. “Since when are vengeful spirits helpful, Sammy? Think they want us to salt and burn their bones?”
“Hey, check this out.”
“What?”
“Footprints. Looks like motorcycle boots.”
Wesley looked down at his feet, more precisely at the motorcycle boots on his feet. “They’re all I had that are made for working in the woods,” he whispered to Angel, who shook his head.
“Well…they sound like…”
“Hunters. I’ve run across a few.” Wesley supplied. “They’ll find us if we don’t find them first.”
“Can they be trusted?”
Wesley shrugged, then snuggled back into Angel’s arms. “Hard to say. Some are very good.”
“Okay, let’s introduce ourselves.”
Wesley looked up at him. “Do you think that’s wise?”
“Wiser than ending up with them hunting us, don’t you think?”
Wesley conceded the point and pulled himself out of Angel’s lap, brushing leafs and dirt from his pants. “Let’s do this casual, let them find us doing the same thing they are.”
Angel nodded, and set about scanning the area again for signs of their demon. He listened as the two hunters approached, and made no effort to hide what he was doing as he squatted beside a tree. “Hey Wes, I got more of that…goo.”
Two feet came to stop beside him and Angel looked up into a face that was decidedly not Wesley’s. “Oh…hello.” The gun wasn’t entirely unexpected, but Angel wasn’t thrilled with it inches from his face either. “Want to point that thing somewhere that isn’t my face?”
“Dean. Dude, relax. He isn’t a ghost.”
Dean lowered his weapon and Angel stood slowly. “What are you boys doing out here in the woods so late at night?”
“Could ask you the same thing,” the one called Dean said.
Angel shrugged. “Yeah, okay. We’re…looking for clues.”
“Clues. At night, with no flashlight.”
“I have good eyes.” Angel said dryly.
“Yes, I have a flashlight.” Wesley said, holding it up and moving toward Angel. “We’re looking for evidence of whatever beheaded that man.”
The two hunters moved closer together. “Isn’t that a job for the police?” the younger one asked.
“They don’t seem to be really understanding what they’re up against.” Angel said, his eyes going to the glowing green goo.
“That’s what I’ve been saying.” Dean said moving to squat beside the goo. “I’m Dean. This is my brother Sam. You two hunters?”
“Of a sort.” Wesley said with a look at Angel. “We were passing through and figured we would take a look around since the police seem to have hit a wall. This is Angel, and I am Wesley.”
Dean poked at the goo with a stick. “So not a spirit,” he said to Sam who had come to kneel beside him.
“No. What do you think?”
Dean made a face then looked up at Angel. “Maybe our new friends have a theory.”
Angel turned to Wesley and shrugged. “I believe that’s the blood of a wounded Exctos demon. They hunt wooded areas, have green luminescent blood and have been known to attack humans if their hunting grounds are encroached on.”
Dean stood, his face a scowl. “You talk about them as if they’re animals.”
“In many ways they are…though most assuredly most are more intelligent-“
“Demon’s a demon, dude. No offense, but that’s the way it is.” Dean said, pocketing his gun.
Angel stiffened and took a few steps away. “Maybe we should let them get on with their search, Wes. We were done here anyway.”
“Yes, quite. You gentlemen be careful out here. If it is an Exctos demon, they can be very territorial.”
“Did you hear him, Wes? We need to steer clear.”
“They may have information we need, Angel.”
Angel paced their small motel room, coming just shy of the line of sunlight that seeped in around the drawn curtains. “A demon’s a demon. That’s what he said. Stupid, narrow minded-“
“Angel.” Wesley intercepted his path, his smile soft, his hand rising up to touch Angel’s chest. “They’re hunters. It’s what they know. Don’t take it personally.”
“Are you forgetting what I am, Wes?” Angel’s voice softened.
“No. Never. You’re Angel, the helper of the helpless. Defender of the powerless.” Wesley moved so that his body was flush with Angel’s. “Savior of the lost,” he whispered.
“You weren’t lost, Wes.” Angel whispered back, dipping his head to kiss Wesley. He hesitated, waited for Wesley to take the next step. This part of their relationship was still new and unfamiliar and they were still feeling out the boundaries. Wesley’s hands slid up around his waist, settling on his hips as he came back for more.
“I was…until you gave me some place to call home.”
Angel closed his eyes as Wesley’s tongue found it’s way into his mouth, so hot and tasting of the coffee he’d been drinking. It made him uneasy when Wesley spoke like that…made him feel a little like a lecherous old man who had corrupted Wesley from the man he’d been when they met. Of course, Wesley would laugh if he ever told him that, so Angel didn’t.
“So, do you really think this is an Exctos?” Angel asked when Wesley moved away and went back to his books.
Wesley made a face, telling Angel he was right about Wesley’s discomfort with their working theory. “I think maybe someone wants us to think it is.” Wesley said, adjusting his glasses. “I think there’s more here than meets the eye.”
“So…what?”
Wesley sighed. “I don’t really know Angel.”
“What about this?” Dean held up his hand to beckon Sam closer. He was parked at the microfilm machine of the local library, flipping through old newspapers. Sam came to hover over his shoulder as Dean’s fingers pointed out the words while he read. “Darren Welling disappeared from Davenport road on Saturday night on his way out of town. His headless body was found when the mail carrier, Harvey Dowel reported finding his motorcycle on the side of the road near the old Eryston Mill.”
Sam nodded. “Maybe…does it say if the head was found?”
Dean licked his lips and skimmed through the rest of the story. He was shaking his head, then nodded. “The head was found five days later, decomposing in a ditch 5 miles from where they found the motorcycle.”
“When was this?”
“June 28, 1963.”
“And it’s been how long since they found the body this time?”
“Five days.” Both Sam and Dean looked up as Wesley stopped beside them. “I’ve already compared the cases.”
“And?” Dean asked, looking supremely unimpressed.
“I was hoping that if we combined our resources, we might come to a satisfactory conclusion more efficiently.”
Dean looked up at Sam who nodded. His eyes swept the room around them. “Where’s you’re friend?”
“He’s back at the motel, sleeping. I figured I’d get an early start.”
“You got something to share?” Dean asked, sitting back in the chair.
Wesley smiled. “This case is most intriguing. Though I’m not certain that it’s our kind of case.”
“What does that mean?” Sam asked, sitting himself now.
Wesley took the last seat across the table from the hunters with a measure of unease. “We’ve scoured the woods, and the entire length of road. There’s nothing to indicate these two cases are connected, other than the location and the headless body.” His long fingers splayed across the thick wood of the library table. It reminded him of the way Angel could stare at his fingers for hours…reminded him of the things Angel could do with his fingers. He blushed and curled his fingers into his hand. “There’s a very old legend around these parts.”
“The headless horseman thing?” Dean asked. “We ran across that already. But we can’t find any references to it that aren’t from 200 years ago or more.”
Wesley nodded. Angel was convinced it was the cause of the death. Wesley not so much…but he indulged Angel, because it was so seldom he got this excited about anything. “I discarded the notion our first night in town.”
The local librarian, a woman in her mid forties, with brown hair cut blunt to her chin and eyes that could silence a rampaging bull bustled past them, glaring in their direction. Sam shook his head. “Have you noticed the locals aren’t too thrilled with outsiders?”
You should see the looks you get when you order pig’s blood at the butcher, Wesley thought. “Yes, quite. It’s a small town.”
Sam shook his head. “No, I think it’s more than that. Have you met the butcher? Man gives me the creeps.”
Wesley smiled. Angel had said the exact same thing. “Yes, he is a bit peculiar.”
Dean snorted. “So, back to our mystery. I’m still leaning toward angry spirit.”
“Hmmm…” Wesley looked around them, making sure they were still alone. “I had given that some thought too. There seems to be some connection to the old mill, and a Mr. Haberman who bought it from the original owners.”
“I read about that. The townspeople killed him, right?” Sam asked
Wesley nodded. “They thought he was responsible for a grisly murder involving a young woman.”
“But he didn’t lose his head.” Dean said.
“Nothing about this is making much sense.” Wesley said. “Perhaps we don’t have all of the pieces to the puzzle.”
Sam sighed and shuffled through the papers in front of him. “Well, I did a search on all unnatural deaths in the area in the last 200 years. There isn’t much. What is interesting is that none of the people who were killed lived in town. Even this latest victim, Michael Harold, he lived outside of town. Bought the house two years ago.”
“Outsiders stand out…are easy targets. Not the first time we’ve seen that MO.” Dean said.
“The scarecrow?” Sam asked, his forehead wrinkling as he frowned. “That was cyclical though…nothing about his is.”
“Scarecrow?” Wesley asked, genuinely interested.
Sam grinned. “Actually, it was a…harvest god. The locals’ ancestors had brought it over when they immigrated. They sacrificed a couple to the thing every year to ensure their harvest.”
Wesley nodded. He’d certainly heard of such things. “How did you stop it?”
“Burned down its tree.” Dean said. “Creepy ass thing too.” He shuddered for effect. “Okay…so I’m not saying that’s what this is…just…towns people who keep to themselves, don’t like outsiders….rings a bell.”
Sam sighed. “We’re not getting anywhere.”
Wesley’s pocket started ringing and the librarian scowled at him. He held up his hand, then flipped open the phone. “Angel…no, I’m at the library. You what? No. Did she say-okay, okay. I’ll be right there.”
He closed the phone and looked at the brothers with an apology on his face. “I need to go. Angel just got a phone call from a friend of ours. He’s upset.”
“Is everything okay?”
Wesley stood and smiled. “I’m sure it is. I’ll let you boys get on with your work.”
The walk back to the motel was brisk and Angel’s voice played back in his head as he walked. Cordelia’s had a vision. We’re in trouble here, Wes.
He unlocked the door to their room and slipped inside, careful not to let too much of the late afternoon sun in with him. “Angel?”
He emerged from the bathroom, his hands filled with toiletries. “What are you doing?”
“Packing.”
“I can see that. May I ask why?”
“We’re leaving.”
“Angel-“
“Leaving Wes, not arguing.”
“Angel.” Wesley was trying to be patient. Something Cordelia said clearly flustered him. “Tell me what she said.”
Angel shook his head and ducked back into the bathroom. “No. It isn’t important. I’m making an executive decision. We’re cutting out losses and getting out of here.”
Wesley crossed the room, stopping him with a hand on his arm. “Tell me.”
Angel sighed and tried to keep the angry face, but it melted when Wesley kissed him lightly. “You…she saw you…dead.”
That made sense. Ever since their relationship had…changed, Angel was protective in the strangest ways. They could fight side by side and he never wavered, but if Wesley cut himself shaving, or talked about anything remotely dangerous, Angel became downright motherly. It was endearing…and completely frustrating.
“You said it yourself Angel…this is what we do. Help the helpless and all that?”
Angel looked almost petulant as he shook his head and stepped away from Wesley. “No, let the hunters have this one.”
“They’re no closer to solving it than we are.”
“All the more reason to get out.”
“No Angel. We need to stay.”
Angel stared at him for a long time, then finally backed down. “Okay…but so help me, Wesley, if you get killed…”
Wesley smiled and wrapped his arms around Angel. “I won’t. I have you to protect me.”
Angel grinned and kissed him. “Some days I don’t think I could ever be enough.”
“You’re more than enough Angel.”
“I hope so.”
“What if it isn’t one thing?” Sam said, looking up.
“What?” Dean asked around the pen cap in his mouth.
“What if it’s actually everything we’ve researched?”
“An angry spirit and a demon and a headless horseman, working together?” Dean scowled at him. “That doesn’t make a lot of sense Sammy.”
“It’s Sam,” he shot back automatically, pulling a hand through his hair. “And none of this makes sense. All of the clues are disjointed…Wesley said we were missing pieces of the puzzle…I think maybe what we have are pieces to different puzzles all mixed together.”
Dean took the pen cap out of his mouth. “Dude…you think maybe someone’s hoaxing us?”
Sam frowned and thought about. “No. I don’t. Not completely anyway. Something’s going on here…I just…don’t know what.” He pushed away from the table and stood. “I’m going to get some coffee. Want anything?”
Dean shook his head and stood up too. “I’m going back to the motel, look through Dad’s journal…again.”
“Okay…I’ll meet you back there.”
Wesley rousted himself out of the bed and reached for the hastily discarded clothing on the floor. “I’m hungry. Want to go over to the diner?”
Angel stretched out in the space Wesley had left behind. “No, it’s almost dark. I thought I’d grab a shower, retrace our steps…see if I can figure out what we’re missing.” He reached out and wrapped an arm around Wesley’s waist. “Why don’t you order something in?”
Wesley laughed. “Because this town doesn’t have anything with delivery service.”
“I don’t want you going out there alone.”
Wesley rolled his eyes and turned to kiss his forehead. “I’ll be fine. I’m going across the parking lot for heaven’s sake.”
He pulled free and shook his head. “I’ll be back before you’re out of the shower.”
Sam groaned as he became aware that he was uncomfortable, in considerable pain…and very obviously not some place where he wanted to be waking up. He heard a matching groan next to him and opened his eyes. “Wesley?”
“I think so…it’s a little difficult to remember just now.”
Sam craned his neck as much as he was able, trying to see the room around them. It was dark and they were alone, for the moment. “What happened?”
“I think someone hit me.” Wesley said.
“Yeah me too.” Sam squirmed around in the ropes that bound his hands, knees and ankles. “Someone also hog-tied me and pissed me the hell off.” He sighed and tested the ropes. “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to get out of these.”
“Me neither.” Wesley said. “Where do you suppose we are?”
The air was stagnant, a little damp. The floor beneath them felt like dirt. “A basement maybe.” He wished he could remember what had happened. He’d gotten coffee, started across the parking lot…then nothing. “Why though? I mean…we aren’t close to figuring this thing out.”
“Perhaps we are and don’t realize it.” Wesley said. Sam could hear him wrestling around on the floor. “Angel will find us.”
Sam snorted. “Yeah? Before or after my brother?”
“Before I would have to say.” Wesley said with a note of pride in his voice. “He…has special abilities.”
“Dean has an overdeveloped over-protective nature.” Sam said.
“Angel has a highly evolved sense of smell.” Wesley responded. Sam could almost hear the competitive grin in the English accent.
“Want to put some money on it?” He asked, turning over so he could see the older man more clearly.
“Twenty dollars?”
“Yeah. You’re on.”
Dean opened the door to their room for the fourth time in an hour, stepping outside and looking around for some sign of his brother. The sun had been down for at least a half hour. Sam was forty-five minutes late. Dean wouldn’t normally worry, but he’d had this weird feeling since leaving the library. He turned to go back to the room and try his brother’s cell phone again and ran into the tall dark figure of Angel.
He jumped back, clearly startled. “Sorry.” Angel was clearly distracted, his eyes scanning the parking lot as Dean’s just had been.
“You looking for something?”
“Have you seen my…Wesley?”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “No, have you seen my brother?”
Angel stuffed his hands in his pockets and shook his head. Dean didn’t know him well, but he looked spooked. “How long?”
Angel made a face, clearly uncomfortable with this. “Only a half hour. He was going to get some food and come back.”
Dean nodded and looked to the diner again. “Sam went for coffee.” They looked at each other for a minute, then turned in unison and stalked across the parking lot. “Maybe they’re just talking.” Dean said as they opened the door and looked around the room. There was no sign of either man.
“Not talking.”
“I can see that. Now what?” Dean turned for the door, but Angel stopped, looking for all the world like he was sniffing the air. “Dude?”
“They were here, in the last twenty minutes or so.”
“Oh?” Dean raised an eyebrow as he crossed his arms. “How do you know?”
“That’s about how long the scent lingers.”
“Scent?” Dean scowled. “You’ve got super smelling or something?”
Angel shook his head distractedly. “Or something.”
The waitress was eyeing them and making Dean uneasy. He gestured out the door with his head and Angle nodded, following him out into the cool night air. Once outside, Dean flipped open his cell phone and dialed Sam’s number for the fifth time in the last half hour. It rang twice and rolled over to voice mail. “Dude, if you’re okay, call me.”
He hung up and looked up at Angel. As he opened his mouth to say something the phone vibrated and squealed the sound that came when he had a text message. He looked down at it, his frown deepening as he read it.
“What is it?” Angel asked.
Dean licked his lips. “He is safe. We will contact you.”
“That’s it?”
Dean held up the phone and shrugged. “What now?” he asked again. “Were you two any closer to figuring this out?”
“No.” Angel said, the misery in his voice echoing that in Dean’s stomach.
Somewhere nearby there was the sound of a door opening and footsteps on stairs. Wesley glanced at Sam and together they looked in that direction. There was suddenly light and they both blinked.
“I apologize for your rough handling,” a voice said from behind the light. “If I can have your word that you will not seek to escape, I will have the bindings removed.”
Wesley looked at Sam who shrugged minutely. “What is it you want with us?”
“I wish only to talk with you. When I have finished I will leave you with a decision to make. What happens after that will depend on your answer.”
Sam met his eyes and Wesley nodded. “Okay. We won’t go anywhere.”
The light lowered and footsteps were followed by hands and the sudden release of the pressure holding him tied up. Wesley rubbed feeling into his hands and sat up slowly, his eyes skipping over Sam to ensure he was alright, then he looked back to the speaker. With the light lowered, Wesley could make out a figure that seemed to be about as tall as Angel, though it seemed he had wings sprouting out of his back. “Wings?” Sam asked out loud, confusion in his voice.
“Yes, Sam. Wings.” The voice seemed amused. “I apologize for how this must be done. I am trying to protect a very delicate balance. By now you must realize that things here are not as they appear.”
Sam was nodding. “Your stories all sound plausible enough, but they’re never really…complete.”
“We don’t get hunters as tenacious as you four often. They don’t usually have to hold up to scrutiny.”
“What exactly is going on here?” Wesley asked.
“I can’t tell you that.”
Sam chuckled. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
“I can tell you that the people who have died here deserved no less…and that none of you will leave this town alive if you continue to pursue this.”
“That sounds decidedly like a threat.” Wesley said.
“I think it was supposed to.” Sam said.
“I can tell you this. The secret of this town is a precious one, enough so that I and others like me have been given the guardianship of it. Both of you fight hard and well, but are no match for us.”
“Go on and tell them,” another voice said. A decidedly different figure, short and squat and rotund joined the first. “The Powers that Be have designs on this.”
“Powers that be?” Sam asked, glancing aside at Wesley who had groaned.
“Yes, troubling buggers who can’t keep their fingers out of the lives of those that the Fates have called.”
“They are companions to champions,” the first voice said.
“Yes, and I just came from the Oracle and she said to tell them.”
“Tell us what?” Sam asked, slowly standing up.
The room flooded with light, not the blinding white of earlier, but enough to make them both shield their eyes for a moment. When they could see again, Wesley turned, crossing his arms. “Tell us what?”
“It would be easier to show you.” The one with the wings said, gesturing out the door. Wesley nodded and made the first move, Sam right behind him. They climbed the stairs, and emerged into what looked like an early morning.
“We must have been out a lot longer than I thought.” Sam whispered.
“Not really. It is only around 8pm,” the shorter man said as he directed them. They were somewhere in town Wesley hadn’t seen, and considering the size of the town, that was pretty remarkable all by itself. They were led toward a small park, and suddenly could see where the light was coming from.
Three little girls, dressed in soft white robes looked up, angelic expressions, eyes of gold and hair nearly white. Wesley felt tears falling unbidden, overwhelmed with emotions he could scarcely put a name to. A glance aside at Sam told him he was experiencing much the same.
“Who…ah…what…?” Sam shook his head and one of the girls got up and came toward them. She slipped a hand in Sam’s and led him away. A second girl came for Wesley and he had no thought of resisting.
“I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.” Angel said, pacing in circles.
“Calm down. My brother’s pretty resourceful. I’m sure they’re fine.” Dean leaned against the hood of his car and watched the bigger man pace.
“Yes, well, Wesley can handle himself too…but…” He stopped and looked at him. “I shouldn’t have let him go alone. Cordelia warned me.”
“Who’s Cordelia?”
“My…administrative assistant.” Angel made a face. “She doesn’t like it when I call her the office girl.”
“No? Imagine that.” Dean said dryly. He was getting irritated with this guy.
“She…has these…visions.” Angel said.
“What? Like a psychic?”
Again with the sour face. “Don’t ever let you hear her say that. But, yeah like that. Only…more…visceral. She saw Wesley dead, I’m assuming now that the other guy she saw with him was your brother.”
Dean stood up. “And you didn’t think that was important?”
“I don’t know you.” Angel said. “And unlike Wesley, I don’t just trust someone because they say they’re a demon hunter.”
“You don’t like me much, do you? Dean asked, hands on his hips.
“Truthfully? No. I think you’re bigoted and hard headed and likely to be the reason other people get dead.”
“Get dead? What are you talking about? I hunt things, kill evil, send demons to hell. What the fuck is your problem with that?”
“Maybe I know a few people who qualify as demons that deserve more…deserve better. Maybe I think you need an education about the world that you presume to hunt.”
“An education? I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been wearing leather.”
“I doubt that.” Angel said, looming over Dean now. “I’ve been around a lot longer than you might think.”
“You’ve got what? Maybe 5 years on me? Trust me on this. I’ve been hunting demons since I was 4.”
Angel took a step back. “What?”
Dean shook it off. “Nothing, let it go.”
“There’s a story there.”
“Yes, and I’m not going to share it with you, so back the hell off.”
Sam sat in the grass in the middle of the three girls, tears pouring down his face. He ached with emotion, as if all of his pain had come to lodge in his chest at once. He was aware of Wesley behide him, in a similar state. The girl who held his hand smiled. Her hand released his and came to cup his face, her pale gold eyes staring deep into his green ones. Then she was gone.
There was movement, hands joined, three girls surrounding them, voices in their heads…though how he knew what Wesley was hearing he wasn’t sure. Three voices almost as one.
So much alike
so much the same
Champions, companions
love, loss and blame
Sam thought his heart would explode, emotions barreling through him with memories, feelings of doubt, fear, disbelief…loss, failure…bubbling up and out of the walls he used to hold them at bay.
A hand touched him. “Faith, Samuel.” A warm hand over his heart. “Have faith in this.”
He heard Wesley snuffle and pressed his back against him in a gesture of comfort. Another hand. “Hope, Samuel.” The hand covered his eyes. “Hope does not live in what we see with our eyes.”
There was movement again, a hand in his. He looked up. “Love Samuel.” The girl radiated a joy and a peace and a light that took his breath away. “Love is not bound by right and wrong. Let love guide all else.”
“Hey…what is that?” Dean asked, standing up right.
Two glowing figures walked toward them from the street. It took a minute for it to register that it was Wesley and Sam. Their skin seemed to radiate a warm, golden light and they were both smiling as they reached them
“Dude! Where have you been? Why are you glowing?”
Sam kissed his cheek and Dean froze, his eyes flashing to Wesley and Angel. “We’re leaving. Wesley and I-took care of everything.”
Wesley put his arms around Angel and kissed him. “Cordelia’s vision wasn’t about me dying. We can go home now.”
“What about the monster?” Dean asked.
“No monster.” Sam said, sliding a hand in his and drawing him back toward their room. “Misunderstanding. Don’t argue…just…have a little faith.”
“And a little hope.” Wesley added.
“What about Love?” Angel asked, relaxing into Wesley’s touch.
Sam and Wesley looked at each other and chuckled. “Apparently, that’s one area we don’t have to worry about.” Sam said. “Good night you two. Safe drive home.”
He pulled a dumbfounded Dean into the room and Angel stared after them. “Strange pair,” he muttered.
“Hmmm…yes…because we’re the picture of normal.” Wesley said with a smirk.
“Well I am…but you, to quote our friend there, dude, you’re glowing.”
Wesley smiled. “It will wear off, or so we were told.”
“By who?
Wesley decided that Sam had the right idea and started drawing the reluctant vampire toward their room. “The headless horseman.” Wesley whispered. “Come to bed.”
Title: Faith, Hope and Love
Fandom: Crossover with Angel the Series and Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Angel/Wesley, Sam, Dean (kind of Sam/Dean at the end if you squint)
Rating: PG to PG-13 (not sure about the line here)
Word Count: 5536 (Dude...it's the neverending fic!)
Summary: Angel and Wesley are in a small town in Upstate NY investigating an unusual death. There is talk of headless horsemen. Sam and Dean are in the same small town with the same purposes. Paths cross, theories abound. But nothing is what it appears and the ending is elusive...like that damn headless horseman.
Warnings & A/N: I apologize for the length and rambly-ness. I thought I knew what I was doing. It kept morphing. It had a mind of its own. There is no porn. There is sort of schloompy cuteness in places. There is random abuse of the word "Dude". Beyond that, I don't know what to say.
The request was: I'd love a crossover with Wes/Angel and Supernatural. If you feel like fooling around with the timelines, Wesley's early days with Angel would be fun, but if you'd rather they aligned a little more closely, that's fine. There's a small town in Idaho or Maine or somewhere remote, and a legend Wesley isn't sure he believes in, but Angel insists they check it out. And Sam and Dean are in the same town for the same reason... You can never go wrong with angst. Everything else is up to you.
“Tell me again why it is we’re here?” Wesley asked, shivering a little as he pulled his jacket tighter around him.
“Because, Wes, it’s what we do.”
Wesley snorted and looked at Angel. “Since when?”
“Helping the helpless?” Angel stopped and turned back to Wesley. “Remember?”
“Angel.” Wesley looked like he was scolding a child. “We don’t know that there are any helpless here. We don’t know-“
“Headless corpse? Ring a bell?” Angel had his hands on his hips. “You’re the one who mentioned remembering a story about the headless horseman-“
“A headless horseman, Angel, not ‘the’ headless horseman. We’re in the wrong part of New England for that.”
“Whatever. Supernatural beastie, right?”
Wesley shook his head. “I’m not even sure that I’ve remembered the story correctly. You didn’t give me a chance to look it up.”
“We were already here.”
“Here? We were in New York City, Angel. This is nearly an 8 hour drive from there.”
Angel looked around them at the trees and mossy rocks and had to concede that point. Upstate New York, nearly an hour from dawn. They’d been traipsing the woods since nightfall and found nothing. “Okay. So we go back to the motel, do some research. Maybe call Cordy get her to work on getting us the police reports.”
“Angel…this is-“
“Wes.” Angel stepped close. “Relax. Cordelia already told us to take our time getting back. There’s nothing that needs us in LA.”
“But-“
Angel stepped closer and kissed him. “Stop. We’re here, together. We don’t have to hide anything, we don’t have to be anywhere. I want this, okay?”
Wesley nodded. He wasn’t relaxed, but he could give in to that. In fact, he gave in to Angel all too easily these days. “Okay. But I want it on record that I don’t think this is our sort of…demon?”
“Is that a statement Wes, or a question?”
“Look.” Wesley moved away and squatted beside a tree. There was a viscous liquid clinging to the trunk, green and almost glowing. “It could be…” He picked up a stick and pulled some from the trunk, sniffing it and then dropping the stick. “Yes, blood.”
“Can you tell what kind?”
Wesley made a face and stood up, moving away. “It will be dawn soon, let’s head back to the car.” He started back the way they came. “I’ll make a list of demons that have blood that might be green and smell of sulfur.”
“That should be a short list.” Angel said, jogging to catch up.
Wesley nodded. “I don’t think this is what killed that man, though.”
“No?”
“No. What would a demon need with a human head?”
“Trophy?”
Wesley opened the car door as they reached it. “Perhaps. It’s too early to speculate I suppose.”
“Dean?”
“Hmmm?”
“Dean.”
“What?”
Sam sighed and smacked his brother’s arm. “Look.”
Dean pulled his eyes up out of the newspaper he was scanning and followed Sam’s gaze. Two men had just entered the diner, looking more out of place than the Winchester brothers. “Not my type, Dude,” he joked and went back to the newspaper.
“Funny. They aren’t from around here. I saw them at the motel.” Sam watched the taller of the two as he scanned the diner.
“Forget it, they’re probably just passing through. Look, the article says the head was never recovered.” He pushed the paper across the table.
Sam took it, picking out the lines Dean had marked. “Okay, so what are we thinking?”
Dean made a face and munched a French fry. “We can rule out a werewolf or wendingo…there was no mutilation.”
“Angry spirit, maybe?” Sam frowned. “It says he was taken off a back road through the woods.”
“So?”
“Well, that kind of narrows the possibilities. We should hit the library in the morning, see if there’s any local folklore.”
“What about tonight?” Dean glanced at his watch. “It’s early. We could head out to the spot where they found his motorcycle, see if we pick up anything.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, okay. You gonna eat that?”
“We’ve already done this, Angel.”
“We may have missed something, Wes. Just relax.” Angel picked his way over a fallen tree trunk, and turned to help Wesley, only to have his hand batted away.
“I am not some maid in distress here, Angel, I’m perfectly capable of-hmpf.” Wesley recovered quickly from his misstep, only to have Angel grab his wrist and pull him down behind the tree.
“Shh…someone’s out there.” Angel whispered, pulling Wesley closer. Wesley could feel the solid, cool presence of the vampire behind him, feel the way his body heat moved toward Angel as they pressed together.
“I’m telling you Dean, someone is out here. I heard him.”
“Who him?”
“English…Hey, Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“If this is where they found the motorcycle, shouldn’t there be more blood?”
“Maybe he wasn’t killed here.”
“Well, that’s less than helpful.”
Dean grinned. “Since when are vengeful spirits helpful, Sammy? Think they want us to salt and burn their bones?”
“Hey, check this out.”
“What?”
“Footprints. Looks like motorcycle boots.”
Wesley looked down at his feet, more precisely at the motorcycle boots on his feet. “They’re all I had that are made for working in the woods,” he whispered to Angel, who shook his head.
“Well…they sound like…”
“Hunters. I’ve run across a few.” Wesley supplied. “They’ll find us if we don’t find them first.”
“Can they be trusted?”
Wesley shrugged, then snuggled back into Angel’s arms. “Hard to say. Some are very good.”
“Okay, let’s introduce ourselves.”
Wesley looked up at him. “Do you think that’s wise?”
“Wiser than ending up with them hunting us, don’t you think?”
Wesley conceded the point and pulled himself out of Angel’s lap, brushing leafs and dirt from his pants. “Let’s do this casual, let them find us doing the same thing they are.”
Angel nodded, and set about scanning the area again for signs of their demon. He listened as the two hunters approached, and made no effort to hide what he was doing as he squatted beside a tree. “Hey Wes, I got more of that…goo.”
Two feet came to stop beside him and Angel looked up into a face that was decidedly not Wesley’s. “Oh…hello.” The gun wasn’t entirely unexpected, but Angel wasn’t thrilled with it inches from his face either. “Want to point that thing somewhere that isn’t my face?”
“Dean. Dude, relax. He isn’t a ghost.”
Dean lowered his weapon and Angel stood slowly. “What are you boys doing out here in the woods so late at night?”
“Could ask you the same thing,” the one called Dean said.
Angel shrugged. “Yeah, okay. We’re…looking for clues.”
“Clues. At night, with no flashlight.”
“I have good eyes.” Angel said dryly.
“Yes, I have a flashlight.” Wesley said, holding it up and moving toward Angel. “We’re looking for evidence of whatever beheaded that man.”
The two hunters moved closer together. “Isn’t that a job for the police?” the younger one asked.
“They don’t seem to be really understanding what they’re up against.” Angel said, his eyes going to the glowing green goo.
“That’s what I’ve been saying.” Dean said moving to squat beside the goo. “I’m Dean. This is my brother Sam. You two hunters?”
“Of a sort.” Wesley said with a look at Angel. “We were passing through and figured we would take a look around since the police seem to have hit a wall. This is Angel, and I am Wesley.”
Dean poked at the goo with a stick. “So not a spirit,” he said to Sam who had come to kneel beside him.
“No. What do you think?”
Dean made a face then looked up at Angel. “Maybe our new friends have a theory.”
Angel turned to Wesley and shrugged. “I believe that’s the blood of a wounded Exctos demon. They hunt wooded areas, have green luminescent blood and have been known to attack humans if their hunting grounds are encroached on.”
Dean stood, his face a scowl. “You talk about them as if they’re animals.”
“In many ways they are…though most assuredly most are more intelligent-“
“Demon’s a demon, dude. No offense, but that’s the way it is.” Dean said, pocketing his gun.
Angel stiffened and took a few steps away. “Maybe we should let them get on with their search, Wes. We were done here anyway.”
“Yes, quite. You gentlemen be careful out here. If it is an Exctos demon, they can be very territorial.”
“Did you hear him, Wes? We need to steer clear.”
“They may have information we need, Angel.”
Angel paced their small motel room, coming just shy of the line of sunlight that seeped in around the drawn curtains. “A demon’s a demon. That’s what he said. Stupid, narrow minded-“
“Angel.” Wesley intercepted his path, his smile soft, his hand rising up to touch Angel’s chest. “They’re hunters. It’s what they know. Don’t take it personally.”
“Are you forgetting what I am, Wes?” Angel’s voice softened.
“No. Never. You’re Angel, the helper of the helpless. Defender of the powerless.” Wesley moved so that his body was flush with Angel’s. “Savior of the lost,” he whispered.
“You weren’t lost, Wes.” Angel whispered back, dipping his head to kiss Wesley. He hesitated, waited for Wesley to take the next step. This part of their relationship was still new and unfamiliar and they were still feeling out the boundaries. Wesley’s hands slid up around his waist, settling on his hips as he came back for more.
“I was…until you gave me some place to call home.”
Angel closed his eyes as Wesley’s tongue found it’s way into his mouth, so hot and tasting of the coffee he’d been drinking. It made him uneasy when Wesley spoke like that…made him feel a little like a lecherous old man who had corrupted Wesley from the man he’d been when they met. Of course, Wesley would laugh if he ever told him that, so Angel didn’t.
“So, do you really think this is an Exctos?” Angel asked when Wesley moved away and went back to his books.
Wesley made a face, telling Angel he was right about Wesley’s discomfort with their working theory. “I think maybe someone wants us to think it is.” Wesley said, adjusting his glasses. “I think there’s more here than meets the eye.”
“So…what?”
Wesley sighed. “I don’t really know Angel.”
“What about this?” Dean held up his hand to beckon Sam closer. He was parked at the microfilm machine of the local library, flipping through old newspapers. Sam came to hover over his shoulder as Dean’s fingers pointed out the words while he read. “Darren Welling disappeared from Davenport road on Saturday night on his way out of town. His headless body was found when the mail carrier, Harvey Dowel reported finding his motorcycle on the side of the road near the old Eryston Mill.”
Sam nodded. “Maybe…does it say if the head was found?”
Dean licked his lips and skimmed through the rest of the story. He was shaking his head, then nodded. “The head was found five days later, decomposing in a ditch 5 miles from where they found the motorcycle.”
“When was this?”
“June 28, 1963.”
“And it’s been how long since they found the body this time?”
“Five days.” Both Sam and Dean looked up as Wesley stopped beside them. “I’ve already compared the cases.”
“And?” Dean asked, looking supremely unimpressed.
“I was hoping that if we combined our resources, we might come to a satisfactory conclusion more efficiently.”
Dean looked up at Sam who nodded. His eyes swept the room around them. “Where’s you’re friend?”
“He’s back at the motel, sleeping. I figured I’d get an early start.”
“You got something to share?” Dean asked, sitting back in the chair.
Wesley smiled. “This case is most intriguing. Though I’m not certain that it’s our kind of case.”
“What does that mean?” Sam asked, sitting himself now.
Wesley took the last seat across the table from the hunters with a measure of unease. “We’ve scoured the woods, and the entire length of road. There’s nothing to indicate these two cases are connected, other than the location and the headless body.” His long fingers splayed across the thick wood of the library table. It reminded him of the way Angel could stare at his fingers for hours…reminded him of the things Angel could do with his fingers. He blushed and curled his fingers into his hand. “There’s a very old legend around these parts.”
“The headless horseman thing?” Dean asked. “We ran across that already. But we can’t find any references to it that aren’t from 200 years ago or more.”
Wesley nodded. Angel was convinced it was the cause of the death. Wesley not so much…but he indulged Angel, because it was so seldom he got this excited about anything. “I discarded the notion our first night in town.”
The local librarian, a woman in her mid forties, with brown hair cut blunt to her chin and eyes that could silence a rampaging bull bustled past them, glaring in their direction. Sam shook his head. “Have you noticed the locals aren’t too thrilled with outsiders?”
You should see the looks you get when you order pig’s blood at the butcher, Wesley thought. “Yes, quite. It’s a small town.”
Sam shook his head. “No, I think it’s more than that. Have you met the butcher? Man gives me the creeps.”
Wesley smiled. Angel had said the exact same thing. “Yes, he is a bit peculiar.”
Dean snorted. “So, back to our mystery. I’m still leaning toward angry spirit.”
“Hmmm…” Wesley looked around them, making sure they were still alone. “I had given that some thought too. There seems to be some connection to the old mill, and a Mr. Haberman who bought it from the original owners.”
“I read about that. The townspeople killed him, right?” Sam asked
Wesley nodded. “They thought he was responsible for a grisly murder involving a young woman.”
“But he didn’t lose his head.” Dean said.
“Nothing about this is making much sense.” Wesley said. “Perhaps we don’t have all of the pieces to the puzzle.”
Sam sighed and shuffled through the papers in front of him. “Well, I did a search on all unnatural deaths in the area in the last 200 years. There isn’t much. What is interesting is that none of the people who were killed lived in town. Even this latest victim, Michael Harold, he lived outside of town. Bought the house two years ago.”
“Outsiders stand out…are easy targets. Not the first time we’ve seen that MO.” Dean said.
“The scarecrow?” Sam asked, his forehead wrinkling as he frowned. “That was cyclical though…nothing about his is.”
“Scarecrow?” Wesley asked, genuinely interested.
Sam grinned. “Actually, it was a…harvest god. The locals’ ancestors had brought it over when they immigrated. They sacrificed a couple to the thing every year to ensure their harvest.”
Wesley nodded. He’d certainly heard of such things. “How did you stop it?”
“Burned down its tree.” Dean said. “Creepy ass thing too.” He shuddered for effect. “Okay…so I’m not saying that’s what this is…just…towns people who keep to themselves, don’t like outsiders….rings a bell.”
Sam sighed. “We’re not getting anywhere.”
Wesley’s pocket started ringing and the librarian scowled at him. He held up his hand, then flipped open the phone. “Angel…no, I’m at the library. You what? No. Did she say-okay, okay. I’ll be right there.”
He closed the phone and looked at the brothers with an apology on his face. “I need to go. Angel just got a phone call from a friend of ours. He’s upset.”
“Is everything okay?”
Wesley stood and smiled. “I’m sure it is. I’ll let you boys get on with your work.”
The walk back to the motel was brisk and Angel’s voice played back in his head as he walked. Cordelia’s had a vision. We’re in trouble here, Wes.
He unlocked the door to their room and slipped inside, careful not to let too much of the late afternoon sun in with him. “Angel?”
He emerged from the bathroom, his hands filled with toiletries. “What are you doing?”
“Packing.”
“I can see that. May I ask why?”
“We’re leaving.”
“Angel-“
“Leaving Wes, not arguing.”
“Angel.” Wesley was trying to be patient. Something Cordelia said clearly flustered him. “Tell me what she said.”
Angel shook his head and ducked back into the bathroom. “No. It isn’t important. I’m making an executive decision. We’re cutting out losses and getting out of here.”
Wesley crossed the room, stopping him with a hand on his arm. “Tell me.”
Angel sighed and tried to keep the angry face, but it melted when Wesley kissed him lightly. “You…she saw you…dead.”
That made sense. Ever since their relationship had…changed, Angel was protective in the strangest ways. They could fight side by side and he never wavered, but if Wesley cut himself shaving, or talked about anything remotely dangerous, Angel became downright motherly. It was endearing…and completely frustrating.
“You said it yourself Angel…this is what we do. Help the helpless and all that?”
Angel looked almost petulant as he shook his head and stepped away from Wesley. “No, let the hunters have this one.”
“They’re no closer to solving it than we are.”
“All the more reason to get out.”
“No Angel. We need to stay.”
Angel stared at him for a long time, then finally backed down. “Okay…but so help me, Wesley, if you get killed…”
Wesley smiled and wrapped his arms around Angel. “I won’t. I have you to protect me.”
Angel grinned and kissed him. “Some days I don’t think I could ever be enough.”
“You’re more than enough Angel.”
“I hope so.”
“What if it isn’t one thing?” Sam said, looking up.
“What?” Dean asked around the pen cap in his mouth.
“What if it’s actually everything we’ve researched?”
“An angry spirit and a demon and a headless horseman, working together?” Dean scowled at him. “That doesn’t make a lot of sense Sammy.”
“It’s Sam,” he shot back automatically, pulling a hand through his hair. “And none of this makes sense. All of the clues are disjointed…Wesley said we were missing pieces of the puzzle…I think maybe what we have are pieces to different puzzles all mixed together.”
Dean took the pen cap out of his mouth. “Dude…you think maybe someone’s hoaxing us?”
Sam frowned and thought about. “No. I don’t. Not completely anyway. Something’s going on here…I just…don’t know what.” He pushed away from the table and stood. “I’m going to get some coffee. Want anything?”
Dean shook his head and stood up too. “I’m going back to the motel, look through Dad’s journal…again.”
“Okay…I’ll meet you back there.”
Wesley rousted himself out of the bed and reached for the hastily discarded clothing on the floor. “I’m hungry. Want to go over to the diner?”
Angel stretched out in the space Wesley had left behind. “No, it’s almost dark. I thought I’d grab a shower, retrace our steps…see if I can figure out what we’re missing.” He reached out and wrapped an arm around Wesley’s waist. “Why don’t you order something in?”
Wesley laughed. “Because this town doesn’t have anything with delivery service.”
“I don’t want you going out there alone.”
Wesley rolled his eyes and turned to kiss his forehead. “I’ll be fine. I’m going across the parking lot for heaven’s sake.”
He pulled free and shook his head. “I’ll be back before you’re out of the shower.”
Sam groaned as he became aware that he was uncomfortable, in considerable pain…and very obviously not some place where he wanted to be waking up. He heard a matching groan next to him and opened his eyes. “Wesley?”
“I think so…it’s a little difficult to remember just now.”
Sam craned his neck as much as he was able, trying to see the room around them. It was dark and they were alone, for the moment. “What happened?”
“I think someone hit me.” Wesley said.
“Yeah me too.” Sam squirmed around in the ropes that bound his hands, knees and ankles. “Someone also hog-tied me and pissed me the hell off.” He sighed and tested the ropes. “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to get out of these.”
“Me neither.” Wesley said. “Where do you suppose we are?”
The air was stagnant, a little damp. The floor beneath them felt like dirt. “A basement maybe.” He wished he could remember what had happened. He’d gotten coffee, started across the parking lot…then nothing. “Why though? I mean…we aren’t close to figuring this thing out.”
“Perhaps we are and don’t realize it.” Wesley said. Sam could hear him wrestling around on the floor. “Angel will find us.”
Sam snorted. “Yeah? Before or after my brother?”
“Before I would have to say.” Wesley said with a note of pride in his voice. “He…has special abilities.”
“Dean has an overdeveloped over-protective nature.” Sam said.
“Angel has a highly evolved sense of smell.” Wesley responded. Sam could almost hear the competitive grin in the English accent.
“Want to put some money on it?” He asked, turning over so he could see the older man more clearly.
“Twenty dollars?”
“Yeah. You’re on.”
Dean opened the door to their room for the fourth time in an hour, stepping outside and looking around for some sign of his brother. The sun had been down for at least a half hour. Sam was forty-five minutes late. Dean wouldn’t normally worry, but he’d had this weird feeling since leaving the library. He turned to go back to the room and try his brother’s cell phone again and ran into the tall dark figure of Angel.
He jumped back, clearly startled. “Sorry.” Angel was clearly distracted, his eyes scanning the parking lot as Dean’s just had been.
“You looking for something?”
“Have you seen my…Wesley?”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “No, have you seen my brother?”
Angel stuffed his hands in his pockets and shook his head. Dean didn’t know him well, but he looked spooked. “How long?”
Angel made a face, clearly uncomfortable with this. “Only a half hour. He was going to get some food and come back.”
Dean nodded and looked to the diner again. “Sam went for coffee.” They looked at each other for a minute, then turned in unison and stalked across the parking lot. “Maybe they’re just talking.” Dean said as they opened the door and looked around the room. There was no sign of either man.
“Not talking.”
“I can see that. Now what?” Dean turned for the door, but Angel stopped, looking for all the world like he was sniffing the air. “Dude?”
“They were here, in the last twenty minutes or so.”
“Oh?” Dean raised an eyebrow as he crossed his arms. “How do you know?”
“That’s about how long the scent lingers.”
“Scent?” Dean scowled. “You’ve got super smelling or something?”
Angel shook his head distractedly. “Or something.”
The waitress was eyeing them and making Dean uneasy. He gestured out the door with his head and Angle nodded, following him out into the cool night air. Once outside, Dean flipped open his cell phone and dialed Sam’s number for the fifth time in the last half hour. It rang twice and rolled over to voice mail. “Dude, if you’re okay, call me.”
He hung up and looked up at Angel. As he opened his mouth to say something the phone vibrated and squealed the sound that came when he had a text message. He looked down at it, his frown deepening as he read it.
“What is it?” Angel asked.
Dean licked his lips. “He is safe. We will contact you.”
“That’s it?”
Dean held up the phone and shrugged. “What now?” he asked again. “Were you two any closer to figuring this out?”
“No.” Angel said, the misery in his voice echoing that in Dean’s stomach.
Somewhere nearby there was the sound of a door opening and footsteps on stairs. Wesley glanced at Sam and together they looked in that direction. There was suddenly light and they both blinked.
“I apologize for your rough handling,” a voice said from behind the light. “If I can have your word that you will not seek to escape, I will have the bindings removed.”
Wesley looked at Sam who shrugged minutely. “What is it you want with us?”
“I wish only to talk with you. When I have finished I will leave you with a decision to make. What happens after that will depend on your answer.”
Sam met his eyes and Wesley nodded. “Okay. We won’t go anywhere.”
The light lowered and footsteps were followed by hands and the sudden release of the pressure holding him tied up. Wesley rubbed feeling into his hands and sat up slowly, his eyes skipping over Sam to ensure he was alright, then he looked back to the speaker. With the light lowered, Wesley could make out a figure that seemed to be about as tall as Angel, though it seemed he had wings sprouting out of his back. “Wings?” Sam asked out loud, confusion in his voice.
“Yes, Sam. Wings.” The voice seemed amused. “I apologize for how this must be done. I am trying to protect a very delicate balance. By now you must realize that things here are not as they appear.”
Sam was nodding. “Your stories all sound plausible enough, but they’re never really…complete.”
“We don’t get hunters as tenacious as you four often. They don’t usually have to hold up to scrutiny.”
“What exactly is going on here?” Wesley asked.
“I can’t tell you that.”
Sam chuckled. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
“I can tell you that the people who have died here deserved no less…and that none of you will leave this town alive if you continue to pursue this.”
“That sounds decidedly like a threat.” Wesley said.
“I think it was supposed to.” Sam said.
“I can tell you this. The secret of this town is a precious one, enough so that I and others like me have been given the guardianship of it. Both of you fight hard and well, but are no match for us.”
“Go on and tell them,” another voice said. A decidedly different figure, short and squat and rotund joined the first. “The Powers that Be have designs on this.”
“Powers that be?” Sam asked, glancing aside at Wesley who had groaned.
“Yes, troubling buggers who can’t keep their fingers out of the lives of those that the Fates have called.”
“They are companions to champions,” the first voice said.
“Yes, and I just came from the Oracle and she said to tell them.”
“Tell us what?” Sam asked, slowly standing up.
The room flooded with light, not the blinding white of earlier, but enough to make them both shield their eyes for a moment. When they could see again, Wesley turned, crossing his arms. “Tell us what?”
“It would be easier to show you.” The one with the wings said, gesturing out the door. Wesley nodded and made the first move, Sam right behind him. They climbed the stairs, and emerged into what looked like an early morning.
“We must have been out a lot longer than I thought.” Sam whispered.
“Not really. It is only around 8pm,” the shorter man said as he directed them. They were somewhere in town Wesley hadn’t seen, and considering the size of the town, that was pretty remarkable all by itself. They were led toward a small park, and suddenly could see where the light was coming from.
Three little girls, dressed in soft white robes looked up, angelic expressions, eyes of gold and hair nearly white. Wesley felt tears falling unbidden, overwhelmed with emotions he could scarcely put a name to. A glance aside at Sam told him he was experiencing much the same.
“Who…ah…what…?” Sam shook his head and one of the girls got up and came toward them. She slipped a hand in Sam’s and led him away. A second girl came for Wesley and he had no thought of resisting.
“I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.” Angel said, pacing in circles.
“Calm down. My brother’s pretty resourceful. I’m sure they’re fine.” Dean leaned against the hood of his car and watched the bigger man pace.
“Yes, well, Wesley can handle himself too…but…” He stopped and looked at him. “I shouldn’t have let him go alone. Cordelia warned me.”
“Who’s Cordelia?”
“My…administrative assistant.” Angel made a face. “She doesn’t like it when I call her the office girl.”
“No? Imagine that.” Dean said dryly. He was getting irritated with this guy.
“She…has these…visions.” Angel said.
“What? Like a psychic?”
Again with the sour face. “Don’t ever let you hear her say that. But, yeah like that. Only…more…visceral. She saw Wesley dead, I’m assuming now that the other guy she saw with him was your brother.”
Dean stood up. “And you didn’t think that was important?”
“I don’t know you.” Angel said. “And unlike Wesley, I don’t just trust someone because they say they’re a demon hunter.”
“You don’t like me much, do you? Dean asked, hands on his hips.
“Truthfully? No. I think you’re bigoted and hard headed and likely to be the reason other people get dead.”
“Get dead? What are you talking about? I hunt things, kill evil, send demons to hell. What the fuck is your problem with that?”
“Maybe I know a few people who qualify as demons that deserve more…deserve better. Maybe I think you need an education about the world that you presume to hunt.”
“An education? I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been wearing leather.”
“I doubt that.” Angel said, looming over Dean now. “I’ve been around a lot longer than you might think.”
“You’ve got what? Maybe 5 years on me? Trust me on this. I’ve been hunting demons since I was 4.”
Angel took a step back. “What?”
Dean shook it off. “Nothing, let it go.”
“There’s a story there.”
“Yes, and I’m not going to share it with you, so back the hell off.”
Sam sat in the grass in the middle of the three girls, tears pouring down his face. He ached with emotion, as if all of his pain had come to lodge in his chest at once. He was aware of Wesley behide him, in a similar state. The girl who held his hand smiled. Her hand released his and came to cup his face, her pale gold eyes staring deep into his green ones. Then she was gone.
There was movement, hands joined, three girls surrounding them, voices in their heads…though how he knew what Wesley was hearing he wasn’t sure. Three voices almost as one.
So much alike
so much the same
Champions, companions
love, loss and blame
Sam thought his heart would explode, emotions barreling through him with memories, feelings of doubt, fear, disbelief…loss, failure…bubbling up and out of the walls he used to hold them at bay.
A hand touched him. “Faith, Samuel.” A warm hand over his heart. “Have faith in this.”
He heard Wesley snuffle and pressed his back against him in a gesture of comfort. Another hand. “Hope, Samuel.” The hand covered his eyes. “Hope does not live in what we see with our eyes.”
There was movement again, a hand in his. He looked up. “Love Samuel.” The girl radiated a joy and a peace and a light that took his breath away. “Love is not bound by right and wrong. Let love guide all else.”
“Hey…what is that?” Dean asked, standing up right.
Two glowing figures walked toward them from the street. It took a minute for it to register that it was Wesley and Sam. Their skin seemed to radiate a warm, golden light and they were both smiling as they reached them
“Dude! Where have you been? Why are you glowing?”
Sam kissed his cheek and Dean froze, his eyes flashing to Wesley and Angel. “We’re leaving. Wesley and I-took care of everything.”
Wesley put his arms around Angel and kissed him. “Cordelia’s vision wasn’t about me dying. We can go home now.”
“What about the monster?” Dean asked.
“No monster.” Sam said, sliding a hand in his and drawing him back toward their room. “Misunderstanding. Don’t argue…just…have a little faith.”
“And a little hope.” Wesley added.
“What about Love?” Angel asked, relaxing into Wesley’s touch.
Sam and Wesley looked at each other and chuckled. “Apparently, that’s one area we don’t have to worry about.” Sam said. “Good night you two. Safe drive home.”
He pulled a dumbfounded Dean into the room and Angel stared after them. “Strange pair,” he muttered.
“Hmmm…yes…because we’re the picture of normal.” Wesley said with a smirk.
“Well I am…but you, to quote our friend there, dude, you’re glowing.”
Wesley smiled. “It will wear off, or so we were told.”
“By who?
Wesley decided that Sam had the right idea and started drawing the reluctant vampire toward their room. “The headless horseman.” Wesley whispered. “Come to bed.”