SPN/X-Men Crossover Part 6/9: Devilish Intent
Title: SPN/X-Men Crossover Part 6/9: Devilish Intent
Author: neutraldeviance
Fandom: This is the sixth part in my X-Men/Supernatural-Verse. There is no established timeline for either fandom.
Rating: R (this chapter for language and violence )
Pairings: Sam/Dean, Sam/Peter (implied), Logan/Scott/Jean,
Supporting Characters: Professor Xavier, Ororo Munroe, OMC, OFC, Meg, a slew of other characters
Summary: Dean and the X-Men arrive to the fray…but are they already too late?
Warnings: established relationships, angst, governmental torture, read at your own risk, ~"text"~ is telepathic speech
Word Count: 4,374
Beta: beta’d by the fabulous sylvanwitch - girl I owe you so many props. Thank you so much! Any other errors are yours truly’s
Disclaimer: The story is mine. The characters are not
Author’s Note: 1) Thank you so much to everyone who’s followed the series and commented!! My muse wishes to express deep gratitude to julorean for the yummy pie! 2) Here's the link for Part 1: Feral Attraction aka the story that started it all! lol 3)As always, feedback helps keep the creative juices flowing!
Less than 10 hours ago…
“I gotta hand it to ya sweetheart, you’re a fast learner.”
Dean’s moss-hazel eyes shone with pride as the young Alayna Cervantes, aka Graffiti, sat Indian-style in front of him in the Danger Room. He was surprisingly patient as he tried to show her the intricacies of a devil’s trap. The odd markings were difficult for her to grasp, but the entire team had decided that if the mysterious traps worked like Dean assured them they did, having someone on the team who could manifest one at will was definitely a luxury they could ill afford to lose.
Graffiti was the youngest, and newest, member of the team and this was going to be her first official mission. She was all of sixteen years old with a sweet smile and bright sparkling brown eyes and shoulder length black hair cut stylishly. She trained rigorously with her older peers and had earned a 2nd Kyo Blue belt in Aikido before her mutant powers manifested and she was accepted into Xavier’s Institute for Higher Learning.
When it came to fighting or dancing, gymnastics, and the practical side of aerobics training she was very well adept and confident. When it came to the use of her powers, however, she was still very naïve in the practicality of it and unsure of her ability.
“Mr. Dean, sir? The markings are like, hard to remember, ya know? What if…what if I can’t do it when, y’know, I have to?” Alayna’s eyes were wide and uncertain as she looked at Dean with an innocence that he couldn’t ever remember having.
They had been practicing for over an hour and he had drawn the trap several times for her to study. She had actually picked up on it quickly and was forming a complete trap with her illusory powers and Dean had been doing his level best to encourage the young mutant.
“Don’t you worry. You’re doin’ just fine.” Dean reached out and gave her a soft noogie, causing her to giggle and blush.
“You think she’s ready, then?” Logan strolled over, arms crossed over his chest, piercing blue eyes trained solely on Dean, flicking minutely to Graffiti and then back again.
Dean was on his feet in two seconds flat staring eye to eye with Logan. Even though they had come to a sort of understanding that neither was trying to tread on the other’s respective territories, there was still a spark of animosity between the two ferals. It didn’t help that Dean’s less than acute control of his pheromone-altering ability always ran just beneath the surface.
“She’s got promise, yeah. What about you? How are the other preparations coming?” Dean gave Logan a once over, upper lip curling slightly before calming.
“They’re going. I don’t exactly know what you expect us to do with a bunch of salt-shooting shotguns, but you’re the leader here pal. We’re just following orders.”
That comment brought a smirk to Dean’s lips. He canted his head and crossed his own muscled arms over his chest, some sarcastic remark somewhere in the back of his brain just itching to come out. Instead, he stepped back and chuckled, nodding his head deciding to be the better man.
“Right. Well, I better get busy purifying those water bottles.”
Logan shook his head with an amused grin,
“Don’t worry, bub. We got that covered too. The professor knows an ordained priest who just happens to be a teleporter. He’s blessing a crapload of Dasani as we speak.”
“You guys just cover all the bases, don’t you?” Now it was Dean’s turn to show disbelief.
“Hey we just like to be prepared.” Logan stepped closer to Dean, his amused expression quickly fading into one of determination and just a hint of danger. “You better be right, demon boy. I don’t take my people into uncertain territory with their guns half-cocked. If all this silver and salt and holy water mojo is just bullshit to keep us occupied, you got a whole lotta hurt comin’ your way.”
The grinding of Dean’s teeth was almost audible as a low growl emanated from his throat. He didn’t like being challenged anymore than Logan did, but through the haze of animal tension, Dean understood Logan’s attitude.
“Look. I’m pulling out all the stops. I’m gonna find Sammy with or without you guys. If I’m facing an army of demon-possessed mutants, I damn well want to be prepared. Ask your girlfriend what sanctified water does to a demon. I’m sure she remembers what it felt like when I splashed her in the face with it.”
Dean’s growl left no room for argument as he turned on his heels, leaving a glowering Logan glaring at his backside as he walked away.
~~~~
The Present…
“Oh come on Sammy boy! Don’t be that way!”
Col. O’Connell’s voice rang with an echoed twang in the cavernous room that Sam had woken up in just moments before. Sam’s head lolled to the side, expressionless hazel eyes blinking open to take in what surroundings he could.
“So this is the end. Somehow, I thought it’d be…warmer.”
Sam’s nude body shivered in the cool air. He could see that he was strapped to some kind of large round table. He could just make out that he was lying directly in the middle, beneath him his body covering some sort of painted symbols. At five points around the table black candles were lit, their flames the color of blood. Instinctively he knew the candle at his feet was facing due south.
“Oh it will be warm…where you’re going.” The Colonel’s face, eyes black as pitch, leered down at Sam. His expression was somewhere between regret and utter maniacal bliss. “Of course, rituals have to be performed. We mustn’t forget ages old tradition!”
“Meg…just shut the hell up and get on with it.”
Sam rolled his eyes, anxious to be done with everything, yet still a spark of hope lingered in his broken spirit as he struggled with the straps that held him in place. When that failed him, he looked around for anything that might help.
The first things that caught his attention were several black-robed figures surrounding the table. Twelve in all, six men and six women. He could see that the woman closest to him had an odd blue tint to her skin, and what he could see of her face was covered in something that resembled reptilian scales. The man beside her had green hair and yellowish skin. Obviously they were mutants, and he assumed the others were too. Logic dictated that they were the mutants that had been locked up in other cells.
The figure standing next to them snuffed that last spark of hope within him, however. The male towered over all the other black-robed mutants. Peter’s once friendly and handsome face was twisted in a sneer so corrupt it caused tears to form in Sam’s eyes.
“Oh Peter. I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you. So sorry…”
“Now now, Sammy! It’s not all that bad, is it? I mean…soon you’ll be with Dean, right? Or…” The Demon Meg in Gary O’Connell’s meatsuit stopped to savor the moment, as if the idea was appealing to her. An eerie chuckle erupted from his lips. “…what’s left of him anyway. You held his heart in life…you can bet you’ll hold Dean’s heart in Hell. Literally.”
“What are you waiting for, Meg? Hm? This the big plan? Sacrifice me, then…what?”
A sudden surge in anger within Sam burst out as his yelled words echoed around the room. He glared at Col. O’Connell, knowing he at least deserved answers.
“Oh Sam. You were so much smarter than this back at that bus station. You coulda saved yourself all this pain if you had just stayed with me instead of going back to Dean. Oh, well. This is turning out rather…deliciously, don’t you agree?’
He walked slowly around table, regarding Sam with the same look a viper has before it strikes; hungry, mesmerizing and evil.
“I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out. You’re not the lamb here, Sammy. No…you’re not our prophesied savior.” O’Connell stopped behind Sam’s head and leaned down so they were face to face, his eyes raking hungrily over the bound form before locking his gaze with Sam’s. “Although…your body will be our true savior’s vessel, when this is over with. All that power you possess, demon and mutant, running through your veins? It’s perfection.”
The grin that appeared on O’Connell’s face was almost serene, peaceful, a direct opposite to Sam’s eyes, which widened with a deep anger and resentment at the thought of being defiled so thoroughly.
“You can’t do anything to this body. It’s protected.” Sam spat back vehemently.
“Oh, Sam, please. Do you mean that little stain on your chest? That tattoo may keep us lower levels out…but baby there’s a much higher pay grade coming to town, and you can damn sure bet some little trinket like that won’t keep him out.”
Then the knowledge of what was happening hit Sam like a ton of bricks. He sucked in a panicked breath and resumed his struggles against his bonds, to no avail, causing an abrupt outburst of laughter from the demon within Col. O’Connell.
“Try all you like, but honey, you ain’t getting out of those.”
“You’re using me to unleash Armageddon? That’s INSANE! You can’t do that! I won’t let you do that!”
His futile rants only served to fuel more bitter laughter from the demon as he backed up and paced around the summoning circle, giddy with anticipation.
“Armageddon is such a…negative word. I prefer to say…destiny. It was always humanity’s fate to submit to our creator. Not yours. Surely you’ve read the bible? Revelations? Oh yes…all true, except…” Meg leaned down at Sam’s feet, bracing her host body’s hands against the cold stone as he glared into Sam’s eyes. “…we’re tired of waiting for fate to catch up. When humanity started evolving…an unexpected pleasure to be sure…we decided to evolve with them. And now, your future has become ours. Quite poetic, really.”
O’Connell’s eyes flashed suddenly with furious anger as his fists slapped the stone table. “And we’re tired of waiting to claim what’s rightfully ours! So…we’re pushing things a few millennia ahead of schedule. You’re the chance we just couldn’t pass up, Sammy boy.”
O’Connell fished into the inner folds of his own black robe and produced a golden dagger, the blade razor sharp and gleaming, that he raised high above his head in preparation for beginning the ceremony. Sam could only watch in horror as O’Connell’s voice rang out, echoing around them, and the dagger began to glow red hot, searing smoke rising up from his hands as he held it.
“LET IT BEGIN!”
~~~~
Less than four hours ago…
Dean was getting antsy. The bone-deep sense that something was very wrong rose with every minute that passed. The void left in his soul from the loss of Sam seemed to be growing stronger, and it felt like he was losing himself in it. When they got the call to meet in the War Room to cast a final plan of action, he was never more relieved and was actually the first person to respond to Xavier’s call. Soon enough, everyone was gathered, once again seated around the table, except for Dean and Logan, Professor Xavier at the head.
“First, let me express my sincerest pride in each and every one of you. You are my students, in some instances very much like my own children. We are fighting for a most noble cause, and I expect nothing less than your very best.”
Xavier had made it a point to start out each session with words of encouragement. He thought of himself rather like their leader, their coach, their father. As their family grew, he knew more than ever that the cause they were fighting for was the right one.
“I trust everything has been prepared?”
“Yes sir. These…weapons…against…the enemy…have been set. They are being loaded into the Jet as we speak.” Storm was the first to speak, though the condescending tone of her voice let everyone present know that she still had some reservations about fighting so-called demons with so-called holy weapons.
In many respects she was the second in command, having taken Scott’s place during the man’s mental breakdown over Jean’s “death” a few years before. Since Jean’s return, though, Scott had slowly been working his way back to the head of the pack, with Jean and Logan at his side. Storm’s rather closed mind in regards to their current mission wasn’t working in her favor.
“Very good. Storm, I must caution you against passing judgment so quickly, “ Xavier said in reference to Storm’s misgivings about the current mission. “Phoenix and Dean both are intimately familiar with this enemy and I trust their life experience.”
Storm lowered her gaze, having felt the bite of Xavier’s chastising.
“Now. Intelligence from my contacts in Washington place the secret project’s base in a little traveled region of Antarctica. The coordinates have been programmed into the X-Jet already, and it will guide you safely there. I must caution each and every one of you. This is their turf. Much like Alkali Lake, it is a government facility. Yet with your credentials, entry should not be a problem. Still, they do not know you are coming, so at least we have the element of surprise on our side.”
Dean was literally seething, the grinding of his teeth audible to all those present. He found himself unable to keep still, and the impatient sigh every now and then betrayed the stoic expression he fought to keep on his face.
“Now let us go over the plans one more time…”
The never ending rounds of preparation continued, and Dean had no choice but to suffer through it.
~~~~
Finally, after what seemed like endless discussion, they were all strapped into their seats in the X-Jet, Cyclops and Wolverine manning the bridge with Phoenix, Iceman, Storm, Siryn, Angel, Graffiti, Rogue and Dean seated in the body of the jet.
Dean had an innate fear of flying, and had almost gone feral again with anxiety as the jet had first lifted into the air, but Phoenix had been there to console him and keep him calm through the process. She had been a reminder that his Sammy was still alive and that the only way to get to him was by flying…though Dean wasn’t comforted at all that they would be breaking the sound barrier to do it.
“Okay everyone.” Cyclop’s voice came on over the speaker so everyone could hear him clearly. “It should take just under two hours to arrive at the destination. Relax, enjoy the flight. It might be your last…”
His little joke was followed by a nervous chuckle. It was meant to break the pre-mission jitters, and almost had the desired effect. Almost.
“Not funny, one-eye!” Dean half-growled, half-screamed at the speaker.
Jean laid her hand on Dean’s shoulder, trying to comfort him with a smile. She looked over and canted her head, emerald eyes staring curiously at him.
“Are you ready for this Dean? It’s a very interesting feeling. Saving the world from ‘The End.’”
Dean looked at her, brows furrowing and refusing to let her into his space as he shrugged her hand off his shoulder.
“Red, the world can go to hell in a handbasket for all I care. I just want my Sammy back.”
Jean’s shining gaze clouded over as she inadvertently glanced towards the cockpit, then back to Dean.
“I know what you mean, tiger.”
“Hey. No pet names. This ain’t no chick flick.”
Phoenix chuckled lightly as she nodded.
“Right. I’m sorry, Dean.”
Dean sighed, letting a bit of his emotions show.
“Look, I’m…you know…sorry, too. I don’t say that often, but I am. About your buddy Peter. About you being…you know. Possessed. The way I’ve been acting. All of it.”
Jean kept her gaze on Dean’s face, watching as the multitude of unreleased emotions flickered momentarily to the surface of his movie-star features. She nodded with realization. He was making his peace, in case he didn’t get to later. Diversionary tactics that she was very well acquainted with. She shared her bed with two of the best diversionary tacticians on the planet.
“Understood and accepted, Dean. Thank you.”
“Yup. No prob, Red.”
The rest of their ride was mostly in silence as the group mentally prepared themselves for the battle to come.
~~~~
The Present
Alayna Cervantes, aka Graffiti, looked out over her team-mates in the X-Jet as Cyclops announced over the speaker that they were within sight of their destination. Youthful, innocent eyes went from each X-Man and back around again. She could sense the tension that was mounting, and it caused her lower lip to quiver slightly. They were all counting on her because she was needed. It was a lot to put on her sixteen year old shoulders.
She had promised Dean she would do her best, though. She prayed her best was enough.
Warren Kenneth Worthington III, aka Angel, the blonde-haired blue-eyed pretty playboy mutant heir to a multi-billion dollar estate spent the time staring out the tiny window beside his seat in the Jet, getting his bearings and scoping out their “destination”. His codename was derived from the two large, feathered and silken white wings that protruded from his shoulder blades. The mythological image of an “Angel” always depicted a man or woman with feathered wings on their backs.
He hoped and prayed that he could live up to his namesake in this fight with apparent demonic forces.
The red-haired freckle-faced girl of barely eighteen years named Theresa Roarke had chosen the codename Siryn from the myths of beautiful Nereids whose voices were so beautiful they lured sailors to their deaths. Her mutant sonic scream was a very powerful tool that, while not exactly beautiful, was just as deadly as the myths. Sapphire colored eyes were closed as she held a crucifix to her breast.
A silent prayer to aid a thunderous victory.
Bobby Drake and Anna Marie, Iceman and Rogue respectfully, sat together towards the back of the cabin. Before every mission they had taken to spending quiet moments alone together. Ever since Rogue had gained control over her absorption powers they had been able to explore a more physical side to their relationship that they couldn’t share before. It made each new mission a priority to come out of it alive so they wouldn’t lose what they had so desired.
This mission was no exception. They would fight to preserve what they had gained, at any cost.
Ororo Munroe, mutant weather controlling Storm, and probably one of the most powerful X-Men, sat quietly with her eyes closed as she felt the vibrations of the elements around her. Every new environment she encountered required her to attune her mutant signature with the meteorological patterns of the area. It’s where she gained her strength, and her power. Control was paramount, unless she wanted to accidentally unleash a torrent of such magnitude that it offset the delicate natural balance.
The delicate natural balance had already been messed with enough. She would not see the earth she loved so much hurt anymore by this unseen enemy.
Scott Summers and Logan, Cyclops and Wolverine, tensed as they approached the landing strip. Cyclops narrowed his eyes, and glanced at his partner and teammate. Wolverine already knew what he was thinking. Something was not right. Where were the posted guards? Where were the warning beacons for unidentified aircrafts? For all intents and purposes, the base below them looked all but deserted.
In that one glance they gave each other, they knew this was not going to go according to plan. They grinned to each other in anticipation.
Jean Grey, the psionic Phoenix, sat next to Dean Winchester. She reigned in her mind, forcefully keeping out the other’s thoughts and feelings from piercing her barriers. She needed to be completely in control and one with her own mind if she were to be of any use. Her telepathy and telekinesis were the strongest of any known mutant, and her powers, along with Dean’s knowledge were their primary weapons.
Dean’s growl brought her out of her self-induced trance.
“I see you sense him too, Dean.”
Dean glanced over at Phoenix then back out the window to the military base below.
“Been feeling Sammy for awhile now. Can’t feel him in my head, but…I still feel him…he’s in there. My gut’s telling me that.”
“Dean, are you ready for what’s coming? Can you control yourself enough to do what needs to be done?”
Dean looked down, his characteristic smirk wavering. The ghost-visions of Sam’s battered body continued to haunt him, and every time he was reminded of it the animal within struggled to be let loose, salivating for revenge.
“I have to be, Red. Sam’s the only thing I got left to live for. I’ll do what needs to be done. The question is…can you do what’s necessary?” Moss-green eyes narrowed as he jerked his head in her direction.
Phoenix returned his glare with a steely gaze of her own.
“One of those things was inside me, took control of me. Believe me Dean I’m ready for some payback.”
Dean could only smirk at that. So the prim and proper doctor had spunk after all.
“Okay team, listen up. Plans might have changed.”
Everyone looked up at Cyclops as he emerged from the cockpit to address them all. He stood there, ever the soldier, with his hands firmly clasped behind his back and his body at full attention.
“We weren’t exactly expecting to be welcomed, but it’s a ghost-town down there. All communication frequencies are static. As protocol, I have initiated stealth mode, so if there is anyone monitoring the area we will not be seen. I want everyone at red alert, since we have no idea what’s going on.”
Cyclops rejoined Wolverine in the cockpit and brought the Jet to a safe landing on the provided strip, a feat made all the easier by the lack of any other aircraft. Terrain vehicles, standard jeeps and other transportation hubs were visible from the air, parked in the designated areas.
When Wolverine and Cyclops both emerged, Logan’s features held a distinct look of confusion and intense agitation. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against a side panel of the Jet. Phoenix had come to recognize that stance as uncomfortable confusion, one that made the Wolverine unpredictable at the best of times. Cyclops cleared his throat and affixed his ruby gaze on everyone present before speaking.
“Phoenix, I need an idea of what’s going down. Can you do a defensive probe of the area? Our tracking equipment is being blocked by some kind of technological barrier. I need mental states, body counts, you know the drill.” Cyclops looked pointedly at Phoenix, not as a lover, but as a commanding officer.
“I think I can come up with something, Cyclops.” Phoenix rolled her eyes in agitation.
Slowly she sat back and closed her eyes letting her body fall to a relaxed state in preparation for a massive probe. She was stopped short, though, by a strong hand gripping her arm. She gasped audibly and looked quickly at Dean.
“You don’t wanna do that, Red. Trust me…Demons read minds. They’ll pick up on your psychic mumbo jumbo and then our element of surprise is gone.”
“Then what, may I ask, do you suggest Dean?” Wolverine quirked an irritated brow at the other feral.
“We go in, fast and hard. It’s the only thing that works with them. If they know we’re coming we’ve already lost. Hell, they may already know we’re here. We don’t need it proven that we are.”
“Without me scanning the area Dean, we’re going in completely blind.” Phoenix quickly interjected before the testosterone outmatched the oxygen. “We need to know where to go and what to look for. Since our trackers are disabled, I’m the best we have. I’m good at keeping myself concealed…trust me.” She narrowed her eyes and focused her telepathy so that only Dean could hear her thought. ~”Remember? The whole damn mansion? Everyone?”~
Dean grunted as her thoughts ghosted his mind. He closed his eyes and sighed, before nodding his consent. “Alright, Red. Do it.”
Phoenix resumed her previous relaxed state and accessed her personal stores of psychic energy. A hushed gasp came from every body present as a phantom breeze rose around her and Phoenix’s body began to glow with a golden fiery aura, a visual and physical representation of her psionic mind spanning outwards to encompass the entirety of the area, including the Base itself.
She stayed in that state for countless moments until her body lurched forward and she grabbed her head, mouth open in a silent scream of pain and horror. The fiery aura around her form became erratic until it vanished altogether. She sat back in her seat, massaging her temples until her breathing regulated, and she was able to compose herself.
“It’s…it’s a bloodbath in there…” She gasped out finally, vivid emerald eyes blinking open to acknowledge her teammates. “Bodies…everywhere. Blood…everywhere.” Tears formed in her eyes, dropping in thin rivers over porcelain cheeks. “Doctors, scientists, military personnel…slaughtered. Oh Scott…If I could only imagine what Hell would be like…”
“Dammit. I knew you weren’t ready for this!” Cyclops rushed to Phoenix’s side and brushed fire-red locks from her forehead and draped one comforting arm over her shoulder. He was torn between the loving partner and the trained warrior. They still had a mission though, and that must take precedence. “Can you tell us anything else? Is there anyone left alive?”
Everyone present leaned in, some in disbelief and others in shock, but all wondering whether or not they had already failed their mission. Her next words would cause an icy chill to crawl up the team’s collective spine, and one already unstable feral Dean Winchester to unleash the animal within.
“Alive? I don’t know, Scott…I just don’t know!”
Part 7/9: Welcome to Hell
Author: neutraldeviance
Fandom: This is the sixth part in my X-Men/Supernatural-Verse. There is no established timeline for either fandom.
Rating: R (this chapter for language and violence )
Pairings: Sam/Dean, Sam/Peter (implied), Logan/Scott/Jean,
Supporting Characters: Professor Xavier, Ororo Munroe, OMC, OFC, Meg, a slew of other characters
Summary: Dean and the X-Men arrive to the fray…but are they already too late?
Warnings: established relationships, angst, governmental torture, read at your own risk, ~"text"~ is telepathic speech
Word Count: 4,374
Beta: beta’d by the fabulous sylvanwitch - girl I owe you so many props. Thank you so much! Any other errors are yours truly’s
Disclaimer: The story is mine. The characters are not
Author’s Note: 1) Thank you so much to everyone who’s followed the series and commented!! My muse wishes to express deep gratitude to julorean for the yummy pie! 2) Here's the link for Part 1: Feral Attraction aka the story that started it all! lol 3)As always, feedback helps keep the creative juices flowing!
Less than 10 hours ago…
“I gotta hand it to ya sweetheart, you’re a fast learner.”
Dean’s moss-hazel eyes shone with pride as the young Alayna Cervantes, aka Graffiti, sat Indian-style in front of him in the Danger Room. He was surprisingly patient as he tried to show her the intricacies of a devil’s trap. The odd markings were difficult for her to grasp, but the entire team had decided that if the mysterious traps worked like Dean assured them they did, having someone on the team who could manifest one at will was definitely a luxury they could ill afford to lose.
Graffiti was the youngest, and newest, member of the team and this was going to be her first official mission. She was all of sixteen years old with a sweet smile and bright sparkling brown eyes and shoulder length black hair cut stylishly. She trained rigorously with her older peers and had earned a 2nd Kyo Blue belt in Aikido before her mutant powers manifested and she was accepted into Xavier’s Institute for Higher Learning.
When it came to fighting or dancing, gymnastics, and the practical side of aerobics training she was very well adept and confident. When it came to the use of her powers, however, she was still very naïve in the practicality of it and unsure of her ability.
“Mr. Dean, sir? The markings are like, hard to remember, ya know? What if…what if I can’t do it when, y’know, I have to?” Alayna’s eyes were wide and uncertain as she looked at Dean with an innocence that he couldn’t ever remember having.
They had been practicing for over an hour and he had drawn the trap several times for her to study. She had actually picked up on it quickly and was forming a complete trap with her illusory powers and Dean had been doing his level best to encourage the young mutant.
“Don’t you worry. You’re doin’ just fine.” Dean reached out and gave her a soft noogie, causing her to giggle and blush.
“You think she’s ready, then?” Logan strolled over, arms crossed over his chest, piercing blue eyes trained solely on Dean, flicking minutely to Graffiti and then back again.
Dean was on his feet in two seconds flat staring eye to eye with Logan. Even though they had come to a sort of understanding that neither was trying to tread on the other’s respective territories, there was still a spark of animosity between the two ferals. It didn’t help that Dean’s less than acute control of his pheromone-altering ability always ran just beneath the surface.
“She’s got promise, yeah. What about you? How are the other preparations coming?” Dean gave Logan a once over, upper lip curling slightly before calming.
“They’re going. I don’t exactly know what you expect us to do with a bunch of salt-shooting shotguns, but you’re the leader here pal. We’re just following orders.”
That comment brought a smirk to Dean’s lips. He canted his head and crossed his own muscled arms over his chest, some sarcastic remark somewhere in the back of his brain just itching to come out. Instead, he stepped back and chuckled, nodding his head deciding to be the better man.
“Right. Well, I better get busy purifying those water bottles.”
Logan shook his head with an amused grin,
“Don’t worry, bub. We got that covered too. The professor knows an ordained priest who just happens to be a teleporter. He’s blessing a crapload of Dasani as we speak.”
“You guys just cover all the bases, don’t you?” Now it was Dean’s turn to show disbelief.
“Hey we just like to be prepared.” Logan stepped closer to Dean, his amused expression quickly fading into one of determination and just a hint of danger. “You better be right, demon boy. I don’t take my people into uncertain territory with their guns half-cocked. If all this silver and salt and holy water mojo is just bullshit to keep us occupied, you got a whole lotta hurt comin’ your way.”
The grinding of Dean’s teeth was almost audible as a low growl emanated from his throat. He didn’t like being challenged anymore than Logan did, but through the haze of animal tension, Dean understood Logan’s attitude.
“Look. I’m pulling out all the stops. I’m gonna find Sammy with or without you guys. If I’m facing an army of demon-possessed mutants, I damn well want to be prepared. Ask your girlfriend what sanctified water does to a demon. I’m sure she remembers what it felt like when I splashed her in the face with it.”
Dean’s growl left no room for argument as he turned on his heels, leaving a glowering Logan glaring at his backside as he walked away.
~~~~
The Present…
“Oh come on Sammy boy! Don’t be that way!”
Col. O’Connell’s voice rang with an echoed twang in the cavernous room that Sam had woken up in just moments before. Sam’s head lolled to the side, expressionless hazel eyes blinking open to take in what surroundings he could.
“So this is the end. Somehow, I thought it’d be…warmer.”
Sam’s nude body shivered in the cool air. He could see that he was strapped to some kind of large round table. He could just make out that he was lying directly in the middle, beneath him his body covering some sort of painted symbols. At five points around the table black candles were lit, their flames the color of blood. Instinctively he knew the candle at his feet was facing due south.
“Oh it will be warm…where you’re going.” The Colonel’s face, eyes black as pitch, leered down at Sam. His expression was somewhere between regret and utter maniacal bliss. “Of course, rituals have to be performed. We mustn’t forget ages old tradition!”
“Meg…just shut the hell up and get on with it.”
Sam rolled his eyes, anxious to be done with everything, yet still a spark of hope lingered in his broken spirit as he struggled with the straps that held him in place. When that failed him, he looked around for anything that might help.
The first things that caught his attention were several black-robed figures surrounding the table. Twelve in all, six men and six women. He could see that the woman closest to him had an odd blue tint to her skin, and what he could see of her face was covered in something that resembled reptilian scales. The man beside her had green hair and yellowish skin. Obviously they were mutants, and he assumed the others were too. Logic dictated that they were the mutants that had been locked up in other cells.
The figure standing next to them snuffed that last spark of hope within him, however. The male towered over all the other black-robed mutants. Peter’s once friendly and handsome face was twisted in a sneer so corrupt it caused tears to form in Sam’s eyes.
“Oh Peter. I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you. So sorry…”
“Now now, Sammy! It’s not all that bad, is it? I mean…soon you’ll be with Dean, right? Or…” The Demon Meg in Gary O’Connell’s meatsuit stopped to savor the moment, as if the idea was appealing to her. An eerie chuckle erupted from his lips. “…what’s left of him anyway. You held his heart in life…you can bet you’ll hold Dean’s heart in Hell. Literally.”
“What are you waiting for, Meg? Hm? This the big plan? Sacrifice me, then…what?”
A sudden surge in anger within Sam burst out as his yelled words echoed around the room. He glared at Col. O’Connell, knowing he at least deserved answers.
“Oh Sam. You were so much smarter than this back at that bus station. You coulda saved yourself all this pain if you had just stayed with me instead of going back to Dean. Oh, well. This is turning out rather…deliciously, don’t you agree?’
He walked slowly around table, regarding Sam with the same look a viper has before it strikes; hungry, mesmerizing and evil.
“I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out. You’re not the lamb here, Sammy. No…you’re not our prophesied savior.” O’Connell stopped behind Sam’s head and leaned down so they were face to face, his eyes raking hungrily over the bound form before locking his gaze with Sam’s. “Although…your body will be our true savior’s vessel, when this is over with. All that power you possess, demon and mutant, running through your veins? It’s perfection.”
The grin that appeared on O’Connell’s face was almost serene, peaceful, a direct opposite to Sam’s eyes, which widened with a deep anger and resentment at the thought of being defiled so thoroughly.
“You can’t do anything to this body. It’s protected.” Sam spat back vehemently.
“Oh, Sam, please. Do you mean that little stain on your chest? That tattoo may keep us lower levels out…but baby there’s a much higher pay grade coming to town, and you can damn sure bet some little trinket like that won’t keep him out.”
Then the knowledge of what was happening hit Sam like a ton of bricks. He sucked in a panicked breath and resumed his struggles against his bonds, to no avail, causing an abrupt outburst of laughter from the demon within Col. O’Connell.
“Try all you like, but honey, you ain’t getting out of those.”
“You’re using me to unleash Armageddon? That’s INSANE! You can’t do that! I won’t let you do that!”
His futile rants only served to fuel more bitter laughter from the demon as he backed up and paced around the summoning circle, giddy with anticipation.
“Armageddon is such a…negative word. I prefer to say…destiny. It was always humanity’s fate to submit to our creator. Not yours. Surely you’ve read the bible? Revelations? Oh yes…all true, except…” Meg leaned down at Sam’s feet, bracing her host body’s hands against the cold stone as he glared into Sam’s eyes. “…we’re tired of waiting for fate to catch up. When humanity started evolving…an unexpected pleasure to be sure…we decided to evolve with them. And now, your future has become ours. Quite poetic, really.”
O’Connell’s eyes flashed suddenly with furious anger as his fists slapped the stone table. “And we’re tired of waiting to claim what’s rightfully ours! So…we’re pushing things a few millennia ahead of schedule. You’re the chance we just couldn’t pass up, Sammy boy.”
O’Connell fished into the inner folds of his own black robe and produced a golden dagger, the blade razor sharp and gleaming, that he raised high above his head in preparation for beginning the ceremony. Sam could only watch in horror as O’Connell’s voice rang out, echoing around them, and the dagger began to glow red hot, searing smoke rising up from his hands as he held it.
“LET IT BEGIN!”
~~~~
Less than four hours ago…
Dean was getting antsy. The bone-deep sense that something was very wrong rose with every minute that passed. The void left in his soul from the loss of Sam seemed to be growing stronger, and it felt like he was losing himself in it. When they got the call to meet in the War Room to cast a final plan of action, he was never more relieved and was actually the first person to respond to Xavier’s call. Soon enough, everyone was gathered, once again seated around the table, except for Dean and Logan, Professor Xavier at the head.
“First, let me express my sincerest pride in each and every one of you. You are my students, in some instances very much like my own children. We are fighting for a most noble cause, and I expect nothing less than your very best.”
Xavier had made it a point to start out each session with words of encouragement. He thought of himself rather like their leader, their coach, their father. As their family grew, he knew more than ever that the cause they were fighting for was the right one.
“I trust everything has been prepared?”
“Yes sir. These…weapons…against…the enemy…have been set. They are being loaded into the Jet as we speak.” Storm was the first to speak, though the condescending tone of her voice let everyone present know that she still had some reservations about fighting so-called demons with so-called holy weapons.
In many respects she was the second in command, having taken Scott’s place during the man’s mental breakdown over Jean’s “death” a few years before. Since Jean’s return, though, Scott had slowly been working his way back to the head of the pack, with Jean and Logan at his side. Storm’s rather closed mind in regards to their current mission wasn’t working in her favor.
“Very good. Storm, I must caution you against passing judgment so quickly, “ Xavier said in reference to Storm’s misgivings about the current mission. “Phoenix and Dean both are intimately familiar with this enemy and I trust their life experience.”
Storm lowered her gaze, having felt the bite of Xavier’s chastising.
“Now. Intelligence from my contacts in Washington place the secret project’s base in a little traveled region of Antarctica. The coordinates have been programmed into the X-Jet already, and it will guide you safely there. I must caution each and every one of you. This is their turf. Much like Alkali Lake, it is a government facility. Yet with your credentials, entry should not be a problem. Still, they do not know you are coming, so at least we have the element of surprise on our side.”
Dean was literally seething, the grinding of his teeth audible to all those present. He found himself unable to keep still, and the impatient sigh every now and then betrayed the stoic expression he fought to keep on his face.
“Now let us go over the plans one more time…”
The never ending rounds of preparation continued, and Dean had no choice but to suffer through it.
~~~~
Finally, after what seemed like endless discussion, they were all strapped into their seats in the X-Jet, Cyclops and Wolverine manning the bridge with Phoenix, Iceman, Storm, Siryn, Angel, Graffiti, Rogue and Dean seated in the body of the jet.
Dean had an innate fear of flying, and had almost gone feral again with anxiety as the jet had first lifted into the air, but Phoenix had been there to console him and keep him calm through the process. She had been a reminder that his Sammy was still alive and that the only way to get to him was by flying…though Dean wasn’t comforted at all that they would be breaking the sound barrier to do it.
“Okay everyone.” Cyclop’s voice came on over the speaker so everyone could hear him clearly. “It should take just under two hours to arrive at the destination. Relax, enjoy the flight. It might be your last…”
His little joke was followed by a nervous chuckle. It was meant to break the pre-mission jitters, and almost had the desired effect. Almost.
“Not funny, one-eye!” Dean half-growled, half-screamed at the speaker.
Jean laid her hand on Dean’s shoulder, trying to comfort him with a smile. She looked over and canted her head, emerald eyes staring curiously at him.
“Are you ready for this Dean? It’s a very interesting feeling. Saving the world from ‘The End.’”
Dean looked at her, brows furrowing and refusing to let her into his space as he shrugged her hand off his shoulder.
“Red, the world can go to hell in a handbasket for all I care. I just want my Sammy back.”
Jean’s shining gaze clouded over as she inadvertently glanced towards the cockpit, then back to Dean.
“I know what you mean, tiger.”
“Hey. No pet names. This ain’t no chick flick.”
Phoenix chuckled lightly as she nodded.
“Right. I’m sorry, Dean.”
Dean sighed, letting a bit of his emotions show.
“Look, I’m…you know…sorry, too. I don’t say that often, but I am. About your buddy Peter. About you being…you know. Possessed. The way I’ve been acting. All of it.”
Jean kept her gaze on Dean’s face, watching as the multitude of unreleased emotions flickered momentarily to the surface of his movie-star features. She nodded with realization. He was making his peace, in case he didn’t get to later. Diversionary tactics that she was very well acquainted with. She shared her bed with two of the best diversionary tacticians on the planet.
“Understood and accepted, Dean. Thank you.”
“Yup. No prob, Red.”
The rest of their ride was mostly in silence as the group mentally prepared themselves for the battle to come.
~~~~
The Present
Alayna Cervantes, aka Graffiti, looked out over her team-mates in the X-Jet as Cyclops announced over the speaker that they were within sight of their destination. Youthful, innocent eyes went from each X-Man and back around again. She could sense the tension that was mounting, and it caused her lower lip to quiver slightly. They were all counting on her because she was needed. It was a lot to put on her sixteen year old shoulders.
She had promised Dean she would do her best, though. She prayed her best was enough.
Warren Kenneth Worthington III, aka Angel, the blonde-haired blue-eyed pretty playboy mutant heir to a multi-billion dollar estate spent the time staring out the tiny window beside his seat in the Jet, getting his bearings and scoping out their “destination”. His codename was derived from the two large, feathered and silken white wings that protruded from his shoulder blades. The mythological image of an “Angel” always depicted a man or woman with feathered wings on their backs.
He hoped and prayed that he could live up to his namesake in this fight with apparent demonic forces.
The red-haired freckle-faced girl of barely eighteen years named Theresa Roarke had chosen the codename Siryn from the myths of beautiful Nereids whose voices were so beautiful they lured sailors to their deaths. Her mutant sonic scream was a very powerful tool that, while not exactly beautiful, was just as deadly as the myths. Sapphire colored eyes were closed as she held a crucifix to her breast.
A silent prayer to aid a thunderous victory.
Bobby Drake and Anna Marie, Iceman and Rogue respectfully, sat together towards the back of the cabin. Before every mission they had taken to spending quiet moments alone together. Ever since Rogue had gained control over her absorption powers they had been able to explore a more physical side to their relationship that they couldn’t share before. It made each new mission a priority to come out of it alive so they wouldn’t lose what they had so desired.
This mission was no exception. They would fight to preserve what they had gained, at any cost.
Ororo Munroe, mutant weather controlling Storm, and probably one of the most powerful X-Men, sat quietly with her eyes closed as she felt the vibrations of the elements around her. Every new environment she encountered required her to attune her mutant signature with the meteorological patterns of the area. It’s where she gained her strength, and her power. Control was paramount, unless she wanted to accidentally unleash a torrent of such magnitude that it offset the delicate natural balance.
The delicate natural balance had already been messed with enough. She would not see the earth she loved so much hurt anymore by this unseen enemy.
Scott Summers and Logan, Cyclops and Wolverine, tensed as they approached the landing strip. Cyclops narrowed his eyes, and glanced at his partner and teammate. Wolverine already knew what he was thinking. Something was not right. Where were the posted guards? Where were the warning beacons for unidentified aircrafts? For all intents and purposes, the base below them looked all but deserted.
In that one glance they gave each other, they knew this was not going to go according to plan. They grinned to each other in anticipation.
Jean Grey, the psionic Phoenix, sat next to Dean Winchester. She reigned in her mind, forcefully keeping out the other’s thoughts and feelings from piercing her barriers. She needed to be completely in control and one with her own mind if she were to be of any use. Her telepathy and telekinesis were the strongest of any known mutant, and her powers, along with Dean’s knowledge were their primary weapons.
Dean’s growl brought her out of her self-induced trance.
“I see you sense him too, Dean.”
Dean glanced over at Phoenix then back out the window to the military base below.
“Been feeling Sammy for awhile now. Can’t feel him in my head, but…I still feel him…he’s in there. My gut’s telling me that.”
“Dean, are you ready for what’s coming? Can you control yourself enough to do what needs to be done?”
Dean looked down, his characteristic smirk wavering. The ghost-visions of Sam’s battered body continued to haunt him, and every time he was reminded of it the animal within struggled to be let loose, salivating for revenge.
“I have to be, Red. Sam’s the only thing I got left to live for. I’ll do what needs to be done. The question is…can you do what’s necessary?” Moss-green eyes narrowed as he jerked his head in her direction.
Phoenix returned his glare with a steely gaze of her own.
“One of those things was inside me, took control of me. Believe me Dean I’m ready for some payback.”
Dean could only smirk at that. So the prim and proper doctor had spunk after all.
“Okay team, listen up. Plans might have changed.”
Everyone looked up at Cyclops as he emerged from the cockpit to address them all. He stood there, ever the soldier, with his hands firmly clasped behind his back and his body at full attention.
“We weren’t exactly expecting to be welcomed, but it’s a ghost-town down there. All communication frequencies are static. As protocol, I have initiated stealth mode, so if there is anyone monitoring the area we will not be seen. I want everyone at red alert, since we have no idea what’s going on.”
Cyclops rejoined Wolverine in the cockpit and brought the Jet to a safe landing on the provided strip, a feat made all the easier by the lack of any other aircraft. Terrain vehicles, standard jeeps and other transportation hubs were visible from the air, parked in the designated areas.
When Wolverine and Cyclops both emerged, Logan’s features held a distinct look of confusion and intense agitation. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against a side panel of the Jet. Phoenix had come to recognize that stance as uncomfortable confusion, one that made the Wolverine unpredictable at the best of times. Cyclops cleared his throat and affixed his ruby gaze on everyone present before speaking.
“Phoenix, I need an idea of what’s going down. Can you do a defensive probe of the area? Our tracking equipment is being blocked by some kind of technological barrier. I need mental states, body counts, you know the drill.” Cyclops looked pointedly at Phoenix, not as a lover, but as a commanding officer.
“I think I can come up with something, Cyclops.” Phoenix rolled her eyes in agitation.
Slowly she sat back and closed her eyes letting her body fall to a relaxed state in preparation for a massive probe. She was stopped short, though, by a strong hand gripping her arm. She gasped audibly and looked quickly at Dean.
“You don’t wanna do that, Red. Trust me…Demons read minds. They’ll pick up on your psychic mumbo jumbo and then our element of surprise is gone.”
“Then what, may I ask, do you suggest Dean?” Wolverine quirked an irritated brow at the other feral.
“We go in, fast and hard. It’s the only thing that works with them. If they know we’re coming we’ve already lost. Hell, they may already know we’re here. We don’t need it proven that we are.”
“Without me scanning the area Dean, we’re going in completely blind.” Phoenix quickly interjected before the testosterone outmatched the oxygen. “We need to know where to go and what to look for. Since our trackers are disabled, I’m the best we have. I’m good at keeping myself concealed…trust me.” She narrowed her eyes and focused her telepathy so that only Dean could hear her thought. ~”Remember? The whole damn mansion? Everyone?”~
Dean grunted as her thoughts ghosted his mind. He closed his eyes and sighed, before nodding his consent. “Alright, Red. Do it.”
Phoenix resumed her previous relaxed state and accessed her personal stores of psychic energy. A hushed gasp came from every body present as a phantom breeze rose around her and Phoenix’s body began to glow with a golden fiery aura, a visual and physical representation of her psionic mind spanning outwards to encompass the entirety of the area, including the Base itself.
She stayed in that state for countless moments until her body lurched forward and she grabbed her head, mouth open in a silent scream of pain and horror. The fiery aura around her form became erratic until it vanished altogether. She sat back in her seat, massaging her temples until her breathing regulated, and she was able to compose herself.
“It’s…it’s a bloodbath in there…” She gasped out finally, vivid emerald eyes blinking open to acknowledge her teammates. “Bodies…everywhere. Blood…everywhere.” Tears formed in her eyes, dropping in thin rivers over porcelain cheeks. “Doctors, scientists, military personnel…slaughtered. Oh Scott…If I could only imagine what Hell would be like…”
“Dammit. I knew you weren’t ready for this!” Cyclops rushed to Phoenix’s side and brushed fire-red locks from her forehead and draped one comforting arm over her shoulder. He was torn between the loving partner and the trained warrior. They still had a mission though, and that must take precedence. “Can you tell us anything else? Is there anyone left alive?”
Everyone present leaned in, some in disbelief and others in shock, but all wondering whether or not they had already failed their mission. Her next words would cause an icy chill to crawl up the team’s collective spine, and one already unstable feral Dean Winchester to unleash the animal within.
“Alive? I don’t know, Scott…I just don’t know!”
Part 7/9: Welcome to Hell