Damn Head Wound, Leverage/SPN Crossover (To Salt the Flame), PG-13
Fandom: Leverage/SPN Crossover (To Salt the Flame verse- Part One, Part Two)
Title: Damn Head Wound
Charcater: Dean Winchester, John Winchester, Eliot Spencer
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 615
Summary: In a world where John Winchester left his only son to pursue a calling to the priesthood, Eliot Spencer is a young retrieval specialist with a penchent for getting into trouble, and Dean...well, Dean lives in a dark underground world of prostitution, and shady deals for priceless artifacts with supernatural properties. When Dean hires Eliot for a job, things go...a little sideways.
A/Ns & Warnings: This world is all the fault of havenward. John Winchester is a priest, Eliot Spencer is a young retrieval specialist who gets mixed up with John. Dean is the wayward bad boy son. Written for my second card for angst_bingo.
Eliot shook his head, then regretted it instantly. Everything was blurry and his face was hot and wet and sticky. Heavy hands pushed him back down and John's face swam in front of his.
"Shit."
"What did you do?"
Eliot tried to follow the voices, but it was dark and he was bleeding and he wasn't sure what had happened exactly.
"I didn't do anything, Dean."
Dean? Eliot blinked up at John. Both Johns actually. "Who?"
"He needs a hospital." John's voice said, but Eliot couldn't make out whether his lips moved or not.
Someone else moved in close…someone…familiar…Eliot squinted. Michael. He'd been supposed to be meeting Michael, something about a job. He frowned and lifted a hand to his head. It was starting to pound. "Michael?"
Michael pushed John out of the way and squatted in front of him. "We can't take him to a hospital. They'll call the cops." Michael flashed a light in his eyes and Eliot tried to pull away. "He's obviously got a concussion though."
"Considering I found him out cold, yeah I'd say."
"Look, I can deal with this. Why don't you run back to your church or something?"
Church? Eliot wanted to shake his head again, but Michael was holding him still. "Michael?"
Michael's eyes softened a little and he smirked. "Got your clock cleaned pretty good, bitch."
"What happened?"
John was suddenly there again, which seemed wrong. John and Michael shouldn't be in the same place, but he couldn't make out why exactly. Just that it was wrong. Like his wife and his lover…only….he frowned up at them. No, exactly like that, except for how they were men…and John kept calling Michael, Dean.
"I…" He lifted his hand to check the wound obviously on his head, but Michael pulled it away.
"Come on, I've got a place near here. We can take him there and get some ice on that knot."
"He belongs in an ER."
"Well, maybe if you hadn't been-Wait, what the hell were you doing here?" Michael had started to help Eliot up, but stopped and looked at John.
"I was…following Eliot."
"What?" Eliot looked up at John, still frowning, but now that the ringing was starting to lessen up he could at least think past the echoes in his head. He reached for John's arm and pulled himself upright. "You followed me?"
John paled under the scruff of his three day beard. "I didn't like the way you didn't answer my question and I knew you were…up to something. So I followed you." John grabbed Eliot's arm, glancing up at Michael and then back. "Last time I followed you, you were lucky I did."
"Wait, you two know each other?" Michael asked.
John paled even further, his eyes a little desperate. "You might say that."
Michael shook his head. "No. No. You don't get to come swooping back into my life and steal my friends and make nice and think it's going to change anything."
"Michael, that's really no way to talk to a priest." Eliot mumbled, reaching for him.
"A priest? He was my father long before he was yours."
Eliot squinted at him, not sure he followed.
"And his name isn't Michael. It's Dean." John added. "Dean Winchester."
"Win…" Eliot felt the little color left in his face draining and his vision was getting dark. "Can we…argue later…" Damn head wound was making it too hard to stay upright and talk, in fact, he wasn't even sure he was upright anymore, but they stopped talking, one on either side of him supporting him as they moved, which gave him time to try to figure out what the hell had happened.
Title: Damn Head Wound
Charcater: Dean Winchester, John Winchester, Eliot Spencer
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 615
Summary: In a world where John Winchester left his only son to pursue a calling to the priesthood, Eliot Spencer is a young retrieval specialist with a penchent for getting into trouble, and Dean...well, Dean lives in a dark underground world of prostitution, and shady deals for priceless artifacts with supernatural properties. When Dean hires Eliot for a job, things go...a little sideways.
A/Ns & Warnings: This world is all the fault of havenward. John Winchester is a priest, Eliot Spencer is a young retrieval specialist who gets mixed up with John. Dean is the wayward bad boy son. Written for my second card for angst_bingo.
Eliot shook his head, then regretted it instantly. Everything was blurry and his face was hot and wet and sticky. Heavy hands pushed him back down and John's face swam in front of his.
"Shit."
"What did you do?"
Eliot tried to follow the voices, but it was dark and he was bleeding and he wasn't sure what had happened exactly.
"I didn't do anything, Dean."
Dean? Eliot blinked up at John. Both Johns actually. "Who?"
"He needs a hospital." John's voice said, but Eliot couldn't make out whether his lips moved or not.
Someone else moved in close…someone…familiar…Eliot squinted. Michael. He'd been supposed to be meeting Michael, something about a job. He frowned and lifted a hand to his head. It was starting to pound. "Michael?"
Michael pushed John out of the way and squatted in front of him. "We can't take him to a hospital. They'll call the cops." Michael flashed a light in his eyes and Eliot tried to pull away. "He's obviously got a concussion though."
"Considering I found him out cold, yeah I'd say."
"Look, I can deal with this. Why don't you run back to your church or something?"
Church? Eliot wanted to shake his head again, but Michael was holding him still. "Michael?"
Michael's eyes softened a little and he smirked. "Got your clock cleaned pretty good, bitch."
"What happened?"
John was suddenly there again, which seemed wrong. John and Michael shouldn't be in the same place, but he couldn't make out why exactly. Just that it was wrong. Like his wife and his lover…only….he frowned up at them. No, exactly like that, except for how they were men…and John kept calling Michael, Dean.
"I…" He lifted his hand to check the wound obviously on his head, but Michael pulled it away.
"Come on, I've got a place near here. We can take him there and get some ice on that knot."
"He belongs in an ER."
"Well, maybe if you hadn't been-Wait, what the hell were you doing here?" Michael had started to help Eliot up, but stopped and looked at John.
"I was…following Eliot."
"What?" Eliot looked up at John, still frowning, but now that the ringing was starting to lessen up he could at least think past the echoes in his head. He reached for John's arm and pulled himself upright. "You followed me?"
John paled under the scruff of his three day beard. "I didn't like the way you didn't answer my question and I knew you were…up to something. So I followed you." John grabbed Eliot's arm, glancing up at Michael and then back. "Last time I followed you, you were lucky I did."
"Wait, you two know each other?" Michael asked.
John paled even further, his eyes a little desperate. "You might say that."
Michael shook his head. "No. No. You don't get to come swooping back into my life and steal my friends and make nice and think it's going to change anything."
"Michael, that's really no way to talk to a priest." Eliot mumbled, reaching for him.
"A priest? He was my father long before he was yours."
Eliot squinted at him, not sure he followed.
"And his name isn't Michael. It's Dean." John added. "Dean Winchester."
"Win…" Eliot felt the little color left in his face draining and his vision was getting dark. "Can we…argue later…" Damn head wound was making it too hard to stay upright and talk, in fact, he wasn't even sure he was upright anymore, but they stopped talking, one on either side of him supporting him as they moved, which gave him time to try to figure out what the hell had happened.