Fic: Folk Tales (SPN/Firefly Crossover, PG)
Title: Folk Tales
Author: sheryden
Fandoms: SPN/Firefly
Fandom 1 Characters Dean Winchester
Fandom 2 Characters Mal Reynolds, Shepherd Book, Kaylee Frye, “Wash” Washburne
Pairings: None. Unless you count Dean/Impala overtones. :D
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 2556
Spoilers: No real spoilers
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Both Supernatural and Firefly belong to their respective creators. I’m just having fun with them.
A/N 1: I wrote this for the xover_exchange. It's been posted over there for a while, but I finally got the thumbs up to post it here. This fic takes place prior to the movie Serenity.
A/N 2: I wrote this for skieswideopen. I used the prompts "It turns out that one of the side effects of being raised from hell by an angel is a greatly extended lifespan" and "shared history."
Summary: After the crew runs into a mysterious figure from Shepherd Book’s past, they take him in as part of the crew.
Today was a rare day for Mal Reynolds and his people. They had finished a job with no pitfalls or foibles or people shooting at them. And they had gotten paid-in full, no less. As a result of their good fortune, the crew had found themselves with some free time and pocket money, and they were bound and determined to waste a bit of both. For Mal’s part, he found the nearest dank hole of a tavern and proceeded to have several well-earned victory drinks.
As he sat the dimly lit room listening to the chatter around him, Mal’s cynical side nipped at the back of his brain, reminding him that life is never that easy for him and that something unpleasant was bound to happen any minute now. But Mal, wanting to revel in his good fortune for a little while pushed these thoughts into the back of his mind as he downed another victory drink. He’d been at it for a while, and the alcohol that was coursing through his veins made him feel warm and tingly and maybe a little ornery.
As the amber liquid danced against this tongue, his attention was drawn to a bit of a commotion over by the bar. A couple of typical backwater bruisers were crowding around a smaller man. Mal couldn’t hear the particulars, but he could recognize the beginnings of a bonafide brawl about to erupt. Depositing the half-finished drink onto the table, he leaned back in his chair and took in his surroundings. Part of him figured he should get up and vacate the bar before sparks started to fly; but a combination of alcohol and curiosity compelled him to keep his seat.
Before Mal had a chance to think on the matter any further, one of the bruisers sent the smaller man flying across the room. He landed in a heap in the middle of Mal’s table, sending what was left of the drink tumbling onto the floor.
“Sorry about that,” the stranger said. He gripped the edge of the table to steady himself and keep from rolling onto the floor.
Mal nodded. “Not at all. You seem to be having a bit of a heated discussion.”
Struggling to his feet, the stranger said, “You could say that.” Then he smirked and hurtled himself toward one of his attackers.
Mal gazed at the sight of the scuffle before him and at the broken glass and spilled liquid that used to be his drink. “I really shouldn’t,” Mal muttered to himself. But then… two against one hardly seemed fair. And it had been a while since Mal had thrown down in a proper fight. His mind made up, he stood up, stretched a bit, then turned toward the fray.
***
Several overturned chairs and broken glasses later, Mal and the stranger found themselves pitched into the dusty street in front of the tavern. Mal felt the adrenaline rush through his veins, even as he struggled to catch his breath. “Well,” he said, his face flushed and grinning, “That was a spectacular way to end the evening.”
Laughing under his breath, the stranger turned toward him. “Kind of enjoyed it myself. Thanks for the assist,” he said, holding out his hand. “Dean.”
Mal clasped Dean’s hand and shook it heartily. “Captain Malcolm Reynolds.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “As in Captain of a ship?”
“As in,” Mal said.
Touching his now-bleeding bottom lip, Dean said, “I might be needing a ride on a ship.”
Mal gazed at Dean, trying to gauge whether the man might have the funds to pay his passage. “We’ll have to talk on that.”
Glancing at the tavern, Dean said, “We’d better get out of here before Fugly and Fuglier decided to finish what they started.”
Mal nodded in agreement, and the twosome pushed through the bustling street toward the area of town where most of the shops were. As they approached the general store, Mal saw Book and Kaylee hurrying toward them.
“Captain,” Kaylee said, as she reached them. “You okay?”
Mal flashed an unrepentant grin. “Just a friendly squabble with the local color.”
“A barroom brawl,” Book said. His voice was tinged with one part disapproval and one part amusement. He shook his head at Mal, then turned his attention toward Dean. “Well,” he said, his lips curling into a smile. “You are about the last person I expected to see.”
Dean reached out and slapped an enthusiastic hand on Book’s shoulder. “I wasn’t even sure if you were alive or dead.”
“Likewise,” Book said. “I’d heard stories that indicated you might’ve met an unfortunate demise.”
“Well,” Dean said with a shrug. “Came close a couple of times.”
Mal motioned between them. “How is it you two know each other?”
“Dean and I go back a ways,” Book said. “We’re old friends.”
Kaylee smiled brightly. “Are you a Shepherd, too?”
Flashing a lopsided grin, Dean said, “Me a Shepherd? That’s a good one.” He folded his arms across his chest and watched as the throng of people hurried by. “Guess you could say I do odd jobs.”
Mal took a good, hard look at Dean and tried to picture how he might fit into Shepherd Book’s life. He had often found himself wondering about the Shepherd’s background. There was a story there-he was sure of it. “Somehow, I can’t picture you two having a history,” he said.
Book smiled cryptically. “I haven’t always been a Shepherd, Mal.”
“No, he hasn’t,” Dean said, nudging Book with his elbow. Turning toward Kaylee, he added, “And who do we have here?”
Mal gazed fondly at Kaylee. “This is the finest mechanic I’ve ever known. Kaylee, this is Dean. Dean, Kaylee.”
“No last name?” Kaylee asked.
Dean took a breath. “Not today.” He gazed at Kaylee. “Book, you have prettier friends than you used to back in the day.”
Kaylee turned bright red. “Well, gosh,” she with a silly grin on her face. “Thanks.”
Winking at her, Dean turned back toward Mal. “So any chance of me getting a ride off this rock?”
Mal narrowed his eyes at Dean. “You can vouch for this man, Shepherd?”
“I can,” Book said.
“All right,” Mal said. “Grab your stuff.”
***
Mal wasn’t sure exactly what led him to take the newcomer on board, but it seemed like the most natural decision. Maybe it was a curiosity about his past with Shepherd Book, and maybe he just saw a kindred spirit in Dean. He wondered fleetingly if Dean had been a soldier, because he saw in Dean’s eyes the same kind of haunted look he saw in his own sometimes.
As they approached the docks, Kaylee bounced on her heels and turned to Dean. “Now Serenity may not look like much-”
“Hey,” Mal said warningly.
Kaylee ignored him and plunged forward. “But she is the smoothest, sweetest ride. A real gem.”
The group stopped at the exit ramp, and Dean gazed up at the ship. “Firefly class,” he said with a smirk. “Not bad.”
“Not bad?” Kaylee stood up a little straighter. “She’s a classic, Mister. Just you wait. Right Captain?”
Mal smiled at her enthusiasm. “You’re preaching to the choir here darlin’.”
“Hey, I’m looking forward to seeing what she can do,” Dean said. “She’s no Impala, though. Now that was a classic.”
Kaylee twisted her face up into a frown. “Thought I knew all the old boats,” she said. ”When did that one come out?” “
“Way before your time. Before Book’s.”
“How’d she fly?”
“Oh, sweetheart, like the wind.” He gazed off into the distance. “I still remember riding down the road with Deep Purple blasting…”
“That an engine?”
He shook his head, and a tired smile ghosted across his face. “Never mind,” he said. “It’s just something else I had to leave behind once upon a time. I got a whole trail of stuff like that.”
***
There was a sizable amount of curiosity when Dean first came aboard. Any new face was bound to spark everyone’s interest, but once word started to spread that Dean and Book were old friends, he soared from minor curiosity to bonafide celebrity. The crew asked well-meaning questions that Dean wasn’t sure he wanted to answer. Where was he from? What was his last name? How did he meet the Shepherd?
Still, over the next few weeks, the crew became accustomed to Dean’s presence and he to theirs. He started to blend in with Mal and his people like he belonged there. And part of him was grateful for the newfound connection. It had been a long while since he had stayed in one place for any amount of time. He’d been mostly on his own for so long that he found himself wanting to stay with the crew, even though he knew he should move on as soon as he could.
One night, Dean found that he couldn’t sleep and wandered into the dining area. Most of the crew was sitting around the long table. Mal sat on the far end, like some kind of family patriarch. Wash, Zoe, and Kaylee sat in chairs closest to where Dean was standing, and Simon sat on the other side of the table next to Book, cradling River’s head on his shoulder. The scene reminded him of the too-fleeting moments of family and normality he had enjoyed over the years. He thought of Sam and Lisa and Ben and his parents and all the other holes time had made during his life.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” Book asked, pointing out an empty chair.
“Nah,” he said. “Restless, I guess. What are we doing?”
Wash grinned. “We are participating in a time-honored tradition for when there’s nothing else to do. We’re telling scary stories.”
“I know a few of those,” Dean said.
“Well, you’re gonna have to tell us one,” Kaylee said brightly.
Book smiled. “They’re telling the one about the killings on Jagged Ridge.”
“Having a bit of disagreement over the particulars,” Mal added.
“Ah.” Dean nodded. “I know that one.”
“Well, maybe you could settle an argument,” Wash said.
Sitting down in the empty chair, Dean flung his feet up onto the table. “Will do.”
“Okay,” Wash said, leaning forward. “Was it Reavers that did the deed, or was it a garden variety and highly ambitious killer?”
Dean laughed under his breath. “Neither,” he said. “It was vamps.”
Kaylee made a face. “Vamps ain’t real.”
“Book,” Dean said, tapping on the table. “Help me out here.”
Book folded his arms across his chest. “They surely are real. I’ve seen them with my own eyes.”
Dean nodded. “And they were responsible for Jagged Ridge.”
“And where’d you hear that?” Kaylee asked. “’Cause I always heard tell it was Reavers.”
“Well,” Dean said, worrying his bottom lip. “That’s what the survivors say.”
“There weren’t any survivors.” Kaylee glanced at Mal. “Captain?”
“I heard tell there were survivors” Mal said. “Just listen to the man’s story.”
Wash sat up. “I always heard tell there was the one survivor. A grizzled old one-eyed bounty hunter named Winchester.”
Book stifled a laugh, then stood up and walked over to the kitchen counter to try and look busy.
Dean set his jaw. “Okay, first of all, there were two survivors. And Winchester is not grizzled, one-eyed, or a bounty hunter. He’s actually kind of a looker.”
Wash gazed at him, one eyebrow raised. “Well, either way, folks say he ended the massacre before any ships docked and became the next victims. He was a hero.”
“Well,” Dean said, leaning back lazily in his chair. “That part’s right.”
Kaylee wiped at a wet spot on the table. “It’s scarier if it’s Reavers.”
“It’s scary enough if it’s vamps.”
“You got any other stories?” Kaylee asked. “Good scary ones?”
“I got a whole boatload of stories,” Dean said. “Just don’t know if I want to tell any of 'em.”
“Stories don’t do no good if you don’t tell ‘em.”
“She has a point,” Book said. “You could tell the one about Winchester and the ghost of Olympia.”
Dean let out a long breath, then stood to his feet. “Maybe another time,” he said. “I’m gonna hit the sack.” He nodded to the crew and headed toward his quarters.
***
As Dean headed down the hallway, he could hear Book’s footsteps following behind him. He turned on his heel. “You know I don’t like to talk about Olympia.”
“Could do you some good,” Book said. After a moment, he added, “How about that? You’re a folk tale.”
Dean closed his eyes. “So is the Earth-that-was.”
“True,” Book said softly. “You could tell the truth, you know,” he said, as he clasped a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Tell them who you are. They’ve all seen their share of nightmares-some of them enough for a couple of lifetimes.”
“Well.” Dean paced back and forth. “I’ve seen enough for a thousand lives, and I don’t want to dump that kind of burden on these people. Besides,” he said. “I didn’t hear you speaking up and telling everyone you were with me on Jagged Ridge.”
“Tell me you’re not alone out there,” Book said.
Dean waved his hand. “Cas’ll show up eventually. But other than him, yeah. I guess I am.”
“You don’t have to be,” Book said. “You could stay here. Mal has taken to you, and I know he’d welcome you on board.”
Shaking his head, Dean said, “I’ve never been good at settling in with people. Besides, I don’t want to bring any trouble.”
Book smiled. “This lot has their fair share of trouble. A little more won’t do much damage.”
“I don’t know.” He ran his fingers along the cool metal of the bulkhead. ”Maybe until Cas shows up, but I can’t guarantee I’ll hang around any longer than that.”
“So you haven’t seen him in a while?”
Dean shook his head. “Not since he dumped me on that rock you all found me on and left.”
Book folded his arms across his chest. “Maybe he thinks you need to be with us,” he said. “Think about it. It was quite a coincidence that he left you on the one planet we showed up on. You and I being old friends and all.”
“Maybe.”
“Just think about staying for a while,” Book said, giving Dean’s shoulder a squeeze. “You’ve been wandering the universe by yourself for long enough.” And with that, Book wandered back toward the dining area.
Dean leaned back against the bulkhead and closed his eyes. He’d just accepted being on his own as his lot in life. During his long years of existence, he had managed to outlive every member of his family. He’d watched people he knew and cared about die and turn to dust. And he’d found himself pitched out into the universe-big and lonely and dark. Dean had learned to avoid connections, because connections often led to heartache and danger. But he was sick of being alone. And maybe Book had a point. Maybe Cas had left ditched him for a good reason. And maybe he did need to open himself up to companionship again.
Taking a breath, Dean walked toward the dining area, calling out, “So you guys really want to hear about the ghost of Olympia?”
-END-
Master Fic List
***
Author: sheryden
Fandoms: SPN/Firefly
Fandom 1 Characters Dean Winchester
Fandom 2 Characters Mal Reynolds, Shepherd Book, Kaylee Frye, “Wash” Washburne
Pairings: None. Unless you count Dean/Impala overtones. :D
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 2556
Spoilers: No real spoilers
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Both Supernatural and Firefly belong to their respective creators. I’m just having fun with them.
A/N 1: I wrote this for the xover_exchange. It's been posted over there for a while, but I finally got the thumbs up to post it here. This fic takes place prior to the movie Serenity.
A/N 2: I wrote this for skieswideopen. I used the prompts "It turns out that one of the side effects of being raised from hell by an angel is a greatly extended lifespan" and "shared history."
Summary: After the crew runs into a mysterious figure from Shepherd Book’s past, they take him in as part of the crew.
Today was a rare day for Mal Reynolds and his people. They had finished a job with no pitfalls or foibles or people shooting at them. And they had gotten paid-in full, no less. As a result of their good fortune, the crew had found themselves with some free time and pocket money, and they were bound and determined to waste a bit of both. For Mal’s part, he found the nearest dank hole of a tavern and proceeded to have several well-earned victory drinks.
As he sat the dimly lit room listening to the chatter around him, Mal’s cynical side nipped at the back of his brain, reminding him that life is never that easy for him and that something unpleasant was bound to happen any minute now. But Mal, wanting to revel in his good fortune for a little while pushed these thoughts into the back of his mind as he downed another victory drink. He’d been at it for a while, and the alcohol that was coursing through his veins made him feel warm and tingly and maybe a little ornery.
As the amber liquid danced against this tongue, his attention was drawn to a bit of a commotion over by the bar. A couple of typical backwater bruisers were crowding around a smaller man. Mal couldn’t hear the particulars, but he could recognize the beginnings of a bonafide brawl about to erupt. Depositing the half-finished drink onto the table, he leaned back in his chair and took in his surroundings. Part of him figured he should get up and vacate the bar before sparks started to fly; but a combination of alcohol and curiosity compelled him to keep his seat.
Before Mal had a chance to think on the matter any further, one of the bruisers sent the smaller man flying across the room. He landed in a heap in the middle of Mal’s table, sending what was left of the drink tumbling onto the floor.
“Sorry about that,” the stranger said. He gripped the edge of the table to steady himself and keep from rolling onto the floor.
Mal nodded. “Not at all. You seem to be having a bit of a heated discussion.”
Struggling to his feet, the stranger said, “You could say that.” Then he smirked and hurtled himself toward one of his attackers.
Mal gazed at the sight of the scuffle before him and at the broken glass and spilled liquid that used to be his drink. “I really shouldn’t,” Mal muttered to himself. But then… two against one hardly seemed fair. And it had been a while since Mal had thrown down in a proper fight. His mind made up, he stood up, stretched a bit, then turned toward the fray.
***
Several overturned chairs and broken glasses later, Mal and the stranger found themselves pitched into the dusty street in front of the tavern. Mal felt the adrenaline rush through his veins, even as he struggled to catch his breath. “Well,” he said, his face flushed and grinning, “That was a spectacular way to end the evening.”
Laughing under his breath, the stranger turned toward him. “Kind of enjoyed it myself. Thanks for the assist,” he said, holding out his hand. “Dean.”
Mal clasped Dean’s hand and shook it heartily. “Captain Malcolm Reynolds.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “As in Captain of a ship?”
“As in,” Mal said.
Touching his now-bleeding bottom lip, Dean said, “I might be needing a ride on a ship.”
Mal gazed at Dean, trying to gauge whether the man might have the funds to pay his passage. “We’ll have to talk on that.”
Glancing at the tavern, Dean said, “We’d better get out of here before Fugly and Fuglier decided to finish what they started.”
Mal nodded in agreement, and the twosome pushed through the bustling street toward the area of town where most of the shops were. As they approached the general store, Mal saw Book and Kaylee hurrying toward them.
“Captain,” Kaylee said, as she reached them. “You okay?”
Mal flashed an unrepentant grin. “Just a friendly squabble with the local color.”
“A barroom brawl,” Book said. His voice was tinged with one part disapproval and one part amusement. He shook his head at Mal, then turned his attention toward Dean. “Well,” he said, his lips curling into a smile. “You are about the last person I expected to see.”
Dean reached out and slapped an enthusiastic hand on Book’s shoulder. “I wasn’t even sure if you were alive or dead.”
“Likewise,” Book said. “I’d heard stories that indicated you might’ve met an unfortunate demise.”
“Well,” Dean said with a shrug. “Came close a couple of times.”
Mal motioned between them. “How is it you two know each other?”
“Dean and I go back a ways,” Book said. “We’re old friends.”
Kaylee smiled brightly. “Are you a Shepherd, too?”
Flashing a lopsided grin, Dean said, “Me a Shepherd? That’s a good one.” He folded his arms across his chest and watched as the throng of people hurried by. “Guess you could say I do odd jobs.”
Mal took a good, hard look at Dean and tried to picture how he might fit into Shepherd Book’s life. He had often found himself wondering about the Shepherd’s background. There was a story there-he was sure of it. “Somehow, I can’t picture you two having a history,” he said.
Book smiled cryptically. “I haven’t always been a Shepherd, Mal.”
“No, he hasn’t,” Dean said, nudging Book with his elbow. Turning toward Kaylee, he added, “And who do we have here?”
Mal gazed fondly at Kaylee. “This is the finest mechanic I’ve ever known. Kaylee, this is Dean. Dean, Kaylee.”
“No last name?” Kaylee asked.
Dean took a breath. “Not today.” He gazed at Kaylee. “Book, you have prettier friends than you used to back in the day.”
Kaylee turned bright red. “Well, gosh,” she with a silly grin on her face. “Thanks.”
Winking at her, Dean turned back toward Mal. “So any chance of me getting a ride off this rock?”
Mal narrowed his eyes at Dean. “You can vouch for this man, Shepherd?”
“I can,” Book said.
“All right,” Mal said. “Grab your stuff.”
***
Mal wasn’t sure exactly what led him to take the newcomer on board, but it seemed like the most natural decision. Maybe it was a curiosity about his past with Shepherd Book, and maybe he just saw a kindred spirit in Dean. He wondered fleetingly if Dean had been a soldier, because he saw in Dean’s eyes the same kind of haunted look he saw in his own sometimes.
As they approached the docks, Kaylee bounced on her heels and turned to Dean. “Now Serenity may not look like much-”
“Hey,” Mal said warningly.
Kaylee ignored him and plunged forward. “But she is the smoothest, sweetest ride. A real gem.”
The group stopped at the exit ramp, and Dean gazed up at the ship. “Firefly class,” he said with a smirk. “Not bad.”
“Not bad?” Kaylee stood up a little straighter. “She’s a classic, Mister. Just you wait. Right Captain?”
Mal smiled at her enthusiasm. “You’re preaching to the choir here darlin’.”
“Hey, I’m looking forward to seeing what she can do,” Dean said. “She’s no Impala, though. Now that was a classic.”
Kaylee twisted her face up into a frown. “Thought I knew all the old boats,” she said. ”When did that one come out?” “
“Way before your time. Before Book’s.”
“How’d she fly?”
“Oh, sweetheart, like the wind.” He gazed off into the distance. “I still remember riding down the road with Deep Purple blasting…”
“That an engine?”
He shook his head, and a tired smile ghosted across his face. “Never mind,” he said. “It’s just something else I had to leave behind once upon a time. I got a whole trail of stuff like that.”
***
There was a sizable amount of curiosity when Dean first came aboard. Any new face was bound to spark everyone’s interest, but once word started to spread that Dean and Book were old friends, he soared from minor curiosity to bonafide celebrity. The crew asked well-meaning questions that Dean wasn’t sure he wanted to answer. Where was he from? What was his last name? How did he meet the Shepherd?
Still, over the next few weeks, the crew became accustomed to Dean’s presence and he to theirs. He started to blend in with Mal and his people like he belonged there. And part of him was grateful for the newfound connection. It had been a long while since he had stayed in one place for any amount of time. He’d been mostly on his own for so long that he found himself wanting to stay with the crew, even though he knew he should move on as soon as he could.
One night, Dean found that he couldn’t sleep and wandered into the dining area. Most of the crew was sitting around the long table. Mal sat on the far end, like some kind of family patriarch. Wash, Zoe, and Kaylee sat in chairs closest to where Dean was standing, and Simon sat on the other side of the table next to Book, cradling River’s head on his shoulder. The scene reminded him of the too-fleeting moments of family and normality he had enjoyed over the years. He thought of Sam and Lisa and Ben and his parents and all the other holes time had made during his life.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” Book asked, pointing out an empty chair.
“Nah,” he said. “Restless, I guess. What are we doing?”
Wash grinned. “We are participating in a time-honored tradition for when there’s nothing else to do. We’re telling scary stories.”
“I know a few of those,” Dean said.
“Well, you’re gonna have to tell us one,” Kaylee said brightly.
Book smiled. “They’re telling the one about the killings on Jagged Ridge.”
“Having a bit of disagreement over the particulars,” Mal added.
“Ah.” Dean nodded. “I know that one.”
“Well, maybe you could settle an argument,” Wash said.
Sitting down in the empty chair, Dean flung his feet up onto the table. “Will do.”
“Okay,” Wash said, leaning forward. “Was it Reavers that did the deed, or was it a garden variety and highly ambitious killer?”
Dean laughed under his breath. “Neither,” he said. “It was vamps.”
Kaylee made a face. “Vamps ain’t real.”
“Book,” Dean said, tapping on the table. “Help me out here.”
Book folded his arms across his chest. “They surely are real. I’ve seen them with my own eyes.”
Dean nodded. “And they were responsible for Jagged Ridge.”
“And where’d you hear that?” Kaylee asked. “’Cause I always heard tell it was Reavers.”
“Well,” Dean said, worrying his bottom lip. “That’s what the survivors say.”
“There weren’t any survivors.” Kaylee glanced at Mal. “Captain?”
“I heard tell there were survivors” Mal said. “Just listen to the man’s story.”
Wash sat up. “I always heard tell there was the one survivor. A grizzled old one-eyed bounty hunter named Winchester.”
Book stifled a laugh, then stood up and walked over to the kitchen counter to try and look busy.
Dean set his jaw. “Okay, first of all, there were two survivors. And Winchester is not grizzled, one-eyed, or a bounty hunter. He’s actually kind of a looker.”
Wash gazed at him, one eyebrow raised. “Well, either way, folks say he ended the massacre before any ships docked and became the next victims. He was a hero.”
“Well,” Dean said, leaning back lazily in his chair. “That part’s right.”
Kaylee wiped at a wet spot on the table. “It’s scarier if it’s Reavers.”
“It’s scary enough if it’s vamps.”
“You got any other stories?” Kaylee asked. “Good scary ones?”
“I got a whole boatload of stories,” Dean said. “Just don’t know if I want to tell any of 'em.”
“Stories don’t do no good if you don’t tell ‘em.”
“She has a point,” Book said. “You could tell the one about Winchester and the ghost of Olympia.”
Dean let out a long breath, then stood to his feet. “Maybe another time,” he said. “I’m gonna hit the sack.” He nodded to the crew and headed toward his quarters.
***
As Dean headed down the hallway, he could hear Book’s footsteps following behind him. He turned on his heel. “You know I don’t like to talk about Olympia.”
“Could do you some good,” Book said. After a moment, he added, “How about that? You’re a folk tale.”
Dean closed his eyes. “So is the Earth-that-was.”
“True,” Book said softly. “You could tell the truth, you know,” he said, as he clasped a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Tell them who you are. They’ve all seen their share of nightmares-some of them enough for a couple of lifetimes.”
“Well.” Dean paced back and forth. “I’ve seen enough for a thousand lives, and I don’t want to dump that kind of burden on these people. Besides,” he said. “I didn’t hear you speaking up and telling everyone you were with me on Jagged Ridge.”
“Tell me you’re not alone out there,” Book said.
Dean waved his hand. “Cas’ll show up eventually. But other than him, yeah. I guess I am.”
“You don’t have to be,” Book said. “You could stay here. Mal has taken to you, and I know he’d welcome you on board.”
Shaking his head, Dean said, “I’ve never been good at settling in with people. Besides, I don’t want to bring any trouble.”
Book smiled. “This lot has their fair share of trouble. A little more won’t do much damage.”
“I don’t know.” He ran his fingers along the cool metal of the bulkhead. ”Maybe until Cas shows up, but I can’t guarantee I’ll hang around any longer than that.”
“So you haven’t seen him in a while?”
Dean shook his head. “Not since he dumped me on that rock you all found me on and left.”
Book folded his arms across his chest. “Maybe he thinks you need to be with us,” he said. “Think about it. It was quite a coincidence that he left you on the one planet we showed up on. You and I being old friends and all.”
“Maybe.”
“Just think about staying for a while,” Book said, giving Dean’s shoulder a squeeze. “You’ve been wandering the universe by yourself for long enough.” And with that, Book wandered back toward the dining area.
Dean leaned back against the bulkhead and closed his eyes. He’d just accepted being on his own as his lot in life. During his long years of existence, he had managed to outlive every member of his family. He’d watched people he knew and cared about die and turn to dust. And he’d found himself pitched out into the universe-big and lonely and dark. Dean had learned to avoid connections, because connections often led to heartache and danger. But he was sick of being alone. And maybe Book had a point. Maybe Cas had left ditched him for a good reason. And maybe he did need to open himself up to companionship again.
Taking a breath, Dean walked toward the dining area, calling out, “So you guys really want to hear about the ghost of Olympia?”
-END-
Master Fic List
***