Through the Never - BtVS/Supernatural/Angel - 7/10
Title: Through the Never
Author: twisted_slinky
Artist: sarah_jones
Crossover: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel/Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Season 6 for SPN. Post S7 for BTVS. Sam is having an out of body experience, and it seems the only person who can help him is a girl who's rather experienced in being a glowing ball of light. Sam/Dawn.
Warnings: Violence, language, innuendos, and some non-explicit sexual encounters of the het variety. Spoilers for BTVS and Angel all seasons; spoilers for SPN through season 6.
Wordcount: ~43k
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural or Angel. Written for fun, not profit.
Link to Story Masterpost: http://twisted-slinky.livejournal.com/32939.html
Link to Art Masterpost: http://sarah-jones.livejournal.com/105137.html (or see it on her website here)
Chapter 7: No Good Deed
Dawn was in a different dimension.
No big sister to save her. No friendly witch to solve her magical mishaps. No Xander to listen to problems. No school. No home.
Dawn was in a different dimension.
She swallowed that knowledge down, keeping herself busy, and pretending that her mind wasn't brim-full of questions. Like, how the hell had she traveled to another dimension in the first place? Wasn't Glory deal supposed to be for a certain time and place, after all? And her blood was still flowing, definitely still flowing, and yet the portal had closed up behind them, as if it had been meant just for her. And Sam.
'Dawn, are you okay?'
She ignored him; mainly, because he already knew the answer was a big freakin' no.
Dawn knew she'd opened the door in the Never. Knew it. But someone else had set this trip up. The chanting she'd heard when the pig monster attacked… It had to have something to-
A groan broke her from her thoughts, and Dawn pushed back her fear, getting to work.
Her overnight bag lay gutted, the clothing she'd packed in a damp heap in the grass from when she'd quickly pulled out her meager supplies. She didn't have half of what she needed, and really, really hoped most of it was more precaution than necessity. She sat the runic stones at the four corners, hitting North, East, West, South, in place of the candles-Willow would have a fit if she caught her half-assing a spell this powerful, but the witch had been the one to teach her which magical principles could be ignored in a pinch. And the fire wasn't needed, not to guide the soul. The soul was already here.
This meager non-incense set-up would be enough. It would have to be. And if it wasn't? Shopping trip it was. They'd get another chance.
'You can do this.'
"I've got to try," she replied, at a whisper.
This close to the ground, the earth smelled musty, like hay and fertilizer, but Dawn stayed where she was, perched with the moon to her back, and pushed the body over-the body, because she had a hard damn time calling it Sam. Was this what her sister had felt, looking at Angelus, searching for any sign of the guy she'd come to know? Finding nothing?
A gentle hand caressing the orb cradled against her side, Dawn took a trembling breath. The ache at her shoulder felt deeper, more like a throb than a sting. She wasn't sure if that was a good sign, but she knew she shouldn't be shaking like a leaf, even if she had just rolled over a guy twice her size.
Now that his hands were secured behind his back-thank you, farmers and your abundant rope scraps-she could get down to business. Of course, there were a number of spells that could be used, all of which she'd tried to no avail in her home dimension. But, she had his body now. This should work.
Should.
His eyes flickered open, taking in the location, the small, shadowed stretch of land between the barn and silo, and then catching her immediately. "What are…?" His voice was slurred slightly, but his attention was focused, mostly on the orb in her hands.
It crossed his features, a sense of awareness. Dawn knew the exact moment that he'd figured out what was inside that ball.
"Don't do this," he said, a plea. It became a hiss when he realized she was continuing. "Stop! You don't know what you're doing."
"I'm fixing you," was her only reply
She licked her lips and began, just like she'd practiced with Sam during their research time. It was the end of a basic Restoration Spell, which would, hopefully be all they needed since there was no need to actually summon the soul from the ether.
"Redă trupului ce separe omul de animal."
Return to the body what separates man from animal-that's what this was, wasn't it? This mass of muscle and bone. It was an animal. Vicious. Deadly. Spitting curses at her. She shivered, holding on to the power of her conviction. She could hear, in the back of her mind, the real Sam echoing the chant.
"Aşa să fie, cu ajutorul acestui magic glob de cristal."
Dawn held the orb over the man's chest. The heat of its glow intensified, and she winced at the singe of the crystal against her fingertips but held on fast to him. The yellow hue of his soul brightened to hot white, and she closed her eyes against it.
"Aşa să fie! Aşa să fie!"
She could feel it on the back of her hands, the air stirring between his skin and the orb. Almost. Almost there, Sam, she promised.
"Acum! Acum!"
And, the world stilled. Dawn's ears were ringing, her breathing heavy and loud, but the world was quiet. Sam, body and soul, was quiet.
She was almost afraid to open her eyes, but when she did, she found herself staring at the crystal globe in her hands. It was dull, empty, a blurred mockery of her pale face reflecting on its slick surface. It took her another second to let her eyes drift up to the body's covered torso, to Sam's face.
His eyes were closed, lips parted slightly for his even exhales. A sticky line of red skirted his hairline, where his bangs had fallen back.
"Sam." She cupped his cheek. "Sam, you in there?"
A soft groan pushed its way past his lips, like he was trying to rouse himself, but he stayed down. Dawn grabbed on to his hip and shoulder and pushed him onto his side, tugging at the knot holding his hands together until it gave, freeing him. Then she let him drop down onto his back again.
His brow wrinkled with pain, and he sluggishly raised a hand, pressing it to his temple. "Uh-damn," he muttered. "God."
"Nope, just Dawn," she assured, leaning over him. "Try opening your eyes."
As if on command, his lids raised, showing more brown than green in his gaze.
She couldn't feel him, she realized. Not like before. She didn't know if this was fear or pain or shock on his face. The absence of that constant connection between his soul and hers…it left her numb. But, she forced a smile onto her face.
"Guess you're probably feeling that hit across the head about right now, huh?"
He blinked, lost. "Dawn?"
Even though it had come from his mouth, it looked as if the name was taking another moment to sink in. When it did, he pushed himself up onto his elbows.
"Dawn," he said again, this time with a sigh of relief. "Dawn… The Never."
This was him. This was the real Sam. All his pieces put back into place. Dawn felt a little shake in her chest, something close to a sob that never quite made it further north. She'd done it. She'd really done it.
His fingertips brushed her knee, as if to make sure she was real, and lingered, finding comfort in the contact.
"So you do remember me," she breathed. "I was afraid you-"
The clap of the final footstep was an announcement, meant to be heard, and it stirred her from the moment. She looked up, shaken by the sound.
Standing at the corner of the barn, facing her with his back to the moon, was a man, shorter than Sam but solid. And threatening. Mainly because he currently had a shot gun leveled on her, a situation she wasn't yet used to, despite its common occurrence.
"Get off of him, skank!" the man barked in a deep, husky voice.
The tone wasn't the least bit familiar, but she squinted up at him, taking in the shape of his body, the outline of light the moon cast over his jaw and brow.
She snapped back to the moment with a tilt of her head. "Did you seriously just call me a skank?" She huffed. "So not cool, Dean."
He didn't lift the gun, but his head tilted back, as if he'd just been slapped. Dean recovered quickly, not losing a bit of his aggression. "Sorry, skank. Met a lot of evil. Can't say that I remember you."
Okay, misogynistic name-calling was going to have to be added to the list of "talks" she was planning to have with this guy. If he didn't shoot and kill her, of course. Dawn frowned at him, but before she could reply, Sam pushed himself up a little further, head turned toward his brother.
"Dean?"
His head was splitting open. At least, that's what it felt like. No, scratch that, it felt as if it had already been split open and was now being forced back together again. Only the parts didn't quite fit anymore.
But, he knew her. Without a doubt, he knew this girl. Dawn. His Dawn, because something had made her his. Something had… He winced against the sound of two voices, not wanting to look up, see who else was there, complicating his already complicated skull-puzzle.
The memories had passed the floodgates already, but unscrambling them, that was another matter. He tried to pull them apart.
Hell. The Never. Hunting.
Only some of those things had happened at the same time, hadn't they? And the dates had been different. What seemed like a long time in one memory was a short time in another. Jesus, it was confusing. Made more so by the thought, an echo of a past conversation, about how dimensional travel could lead to time displacement. Something about 2005 being 2010. Something about…
The detritus began to sort itself out into piles, and Sam suddenly put enough of it together to recognize the voices conversing. Dawn and Dean. Dean. His brother. Alive, like one set of memories knew and the other didn't.
Sam stared up at the other man in awe. Get your shit together, Sammy. The man hadn't said those words, but Sam could almost hear them in his voice, reminding him that he needed to put his problems aside and focus on what was happening. Like his brother pointing the gun at Dawn.
Sam jerked up, trying to fight the wave of dizziness that came with the movement-a shovel to the head, right? That happened.
He shifted, still sitting on the ground, until he was between Dawn's perched form and Dean's looming one. Dawn's fingers clenched on to his arm, as if in warning or in thanks.
"Dean?"
Dean was standing no more than twelve feet away now but had never seemed so distant. Sam felt his insides shake in anger, in knowing. He understood why his brother wasn't wrapping his arms around him right now. He understood why the tight frown on Dean's face didn't lift in the least when his gaze shifted from Dawn to Sam.
"You alright?" Dean asked. Just because he was supposed to.
Sam could remember being the monster his brother was currently addressing. No, not quite a monster. Just less than human. A shell of a person. And without his soul, he'd done some things…bad things. Some of them to Dean.
The tears gathering in his eyes were burning a hole through him. "God, Dean, I'm so sorry," he said, barely able to get the words out. "I'm so sorry."
A weight had just been dropped into his gut: over a year. Over a year. Sam realized it now, how long he'd been gone. The memories of Dawn…they'd taken place over a few months. The memories of being this thing, this hunter playing human… There were over a year's worth of those.
Dean blinked, confused, but held his ground. "For what?"
"Dean, it's me." Sam bit down the smile he wanted to give him. "It's really me. All of me. I have my soul back."
Sam knew his brother wouldn't believe him, not after the lies his soulless self had spilled like water, but it still hurt to see the blatant doubt on Dean's face.
"Sam's soul is in Hell," Dean bit. "Now I don't know what the fuck just happened to you but-"
"My soul wasn't in Hell." Sam shook his head. "It was for a while, but then it got pulled out, and Dawn…" He'd almost forgotten the girl against his back, quiet as a mouse-which was so completely out of character for her that he almost turned around and checked to make sure she was conscious. "My soul was trapped in this orb, but Dawn put it back. That's what she was doing-putting my soul in my body."
"Bullshit," Dean coughed, but his breath was quickened, as if the very idea excited him. "You're telling me some chick was walking around with your soul all this time? I don't think so."
"I know you think you would have known-but there's so much more to it." Going into dimensional travel and the Key and the Never... Sam wasn't sure if his head could handle that right now. He wasn't even sure where to begin. "Just put the damn gun down, already," he said, frustrated.
"As soon as you quit playing pretend, and tell me what's really going on, Sam," Dean replied, his face breaking with a shit-eating grin that did nothing to cover his anger. "What are you playing at?"
Sam rolled his hand over his face, hissing against the skin of his palm. When he looked back up, he cocked his head in sympathy. "I know this is hard, Dean. I know you have absolutely no reason to trust me, and you don't even know who Dawn is, but… There's got to be a way for me to prove it to you."
"I believe I can assist," a voice stated.
Sam jumped at the sound, eyes wide when he took in Castiel, standing right behind Dawn, his trenchcoat still whipped back from his arrival. The angel crouched down, bright blue eyes cutting through him.
Dawn gasped in surprise, falling against Sam's back.
"Cas, I-" he began.
Sam lost his ability to speak as he was tossed back down to the earth. He heard Dawn land beside him, sucking in a pained breath as the angel leaned over the two of them, his hands hovering above their stomachs.
"Stay still," Cas commanded, his voice hard. "This will be unpleasant."
Sam suddenly knew what was coming, but he didn't have time to warn Dawn before the angel's fingers dug into his skin. His vision darkened at the agony, Dawn's screams echoing in his ears.
Dean let the gun fall to his waist, transfixed by the image before him. Cas was crouched down over the writhing bodies of Sam and the girl-he'd said her name was Dawn, hadn't he?-with his arms sunk down into their torsos, a bright white glow escaping from the seamless wounds. Red veins crawled over their skin, like magma rolling just beneath the surface, and pooled at their closed eyes.
"Cas?"
Dean hadn't wanted to believe Sam's story, because believing, even for an instant, that his brother was fixed again meant being crushed when it turned out to be a false hope. A trick.
But, when he saw Castiel's expression…he knew the truth before the angel even opened his mouth.
"Their souls are intact. And human," Cas said, pulling free from their bodies and standing. There was something in his tone. Awe. Surprise. Regret. Something, but Dean couldn't quite put his finger on what. The angel held Dean's gaze, as if waiting for the knowledge to sink in. "Sam is whole. And this girl is…She's human."
Cas looked puzzled by his own conclusion.
"Did you…?"
Castiel cocked his head in thought. "This wasn't my doing. I came because I was nearby and felt a shift in the world. I believed it was this girl who drew my attention."
"Dawn," Dean supplied, and shook his head. "How?"
"It was her doing." Cas hesitated but didn't provide more of an answer, staring back down at the pair instead. "Hello, Sam. It's good to see you again."
Dean watched his brother's lips move to mutter something under his breath. Sam took the angel's offered hand and stumbled to a stand. The girl followed suit, wiping the mud off her backside as she moved.
"That doesn't get any less painful with practice," Sam said, and offered the angel a tight smile. "But I guess it proved my point."
"So not doing that again." She added. "If this is how your friends say hello, Sam, remind me never to piss off your enemies." She turned her head, looking down at her arm, where her sleeve had been ripped. "My arm's fixed."
"I healed your wounds during my examination," Cas noted.
She raised a brow. "Nifty."
But, the angel hadn't stopped staring at her. "When did you receive a human soul, Key?"
Dean frowned. "Key?"
Her eyes widened almost comically at the question, and Castiel shook his head, as if knowing he wouldn't receive a proper answer. He turned to Dean. "She's no danger to you," he assured, able to read the question on the hunter's face. "But, it's important that I find out what allowed for her arrival in this dimension-I'll make inquiries and return when I have news."
Dean stood a little straighter. "Did you just say 'this dimension'?"
The angel didn't so much as take a step back before disappearing, leaving the three startled.
"Way to ditch," Dawn commented.
Dean took a step closer, propping the shotgun against the side of the silo as he moved. He got a decent look at Dawn for the first time. She was pretty and young, probably not even twenty yet, with long, light brown hair flowing over her shoulder. The hunter in him told him to pay closer attention, memorize her face, see what he hadn't earlier. See what it was that had made Cas fly off. But Dean put that guy to bed. He was done looking at her, eyes already back on his brother. His brother who looked no different than he had an hour ago, when they'd started their ghoul hunt. Only that man hadn't actually been his brother at all, and this man could be nothing less.
"Sam." The name itself made his heart rattle. Dean took in a short, shallow breath. "Sammy."
Sam's eyes were wet, his smile gentle. He crossed the short distance in a second, wrapping his arms around his brother. Dean held on as if his life depended on it, the crook of his arm around Sam's neck, his fingers clinging to his outer jacket.
"Dean, I missed you," Sam breathed into his shoulder.
Dean wanted to laugh, crack a joke, but the swell in his chest choked him, barely letting him get his own words out. "I missed you, too."
"Oh bollocks."
The beast was done-for, an all but useless sack of gore. Its features were so marred by burns and slices and bruises that no hunter alive would have been able to recognize its species upon first glance. Crowley pulled his gloved hands up out of its chest cavity, dropping its still heart to the tarp beneath the chair. It landed with a splat, throwing purple juice onto the demon's dress shoes.
"I need better bloody monsters," he hissed at the dead creature.
Then, he cocked his head at the organ and bent down to retrieve it. A small white object was sticking out of the wide, torn mouth of the vena cava, as if it had been shoved in at the very last moment.
Crowley pulled it free, a wide grin cracking his face when he realized it was a roll of paper, barely the length of his finger. Let the diviners keep their cast bones and pig organs-the beyond reached out to the boss using different methods, it would seem.
He unrolled the message, smearing a stain over it as he read: "Your package has been delivered. Payment to be collected shortly. -LM"
An early Valentine from his favorite damned soul. How thoughtful. He wadded it into a ball, suddenly feeling somewhat better about his kill.
"Lawyers," he said, eying the monster's corpse. "Efficient little buggars, aren't they?"
READ CHAPTER 8