[Fic] SPN/HP Crossover - Subtle Shining Sorceries - Chapter Three
Title: Subtle Shining Sorceries
Author: Stolen Childe
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the boys. I just like to play with them.
Author’s Notes: Okay, again not a whole lot of action, it’s a little longer because Dean likes to talk. For those of you reading this on LJ, I did not post chapter two on sn_fic there wasn’t enough Sam and Dean in it. So please see previous parts.
Please see Master Post for warnings, ratings and previous chapters.
*****************************
Chapter Three - Wherein Dean returns from then returns to Dream Town…
Dean woke fully to the sound of a door opening that sounded like a gunshot. That’s funny, he didn’t remember getting drunk, but maybe that just meant he had a hell of a good time. Then he felt a queasy uncomfortable feeling like his guts were trying to reorient themselves and he flashed back to the morgue and the two weird guys with cloaks and the whipping, pulling, bending, turning that reduced him to his current state. As promised by the tall snide one, Dean had a headache that hurt like hell. Curtains were yanked open just as Dean fully opened his eyes and sunlight seemed to pierce into his brain like hot needles.
“Son of a bitch!” he cursed, slamming his eyes shut.
“Oh! Sorry!” the room was darkened once more but Dean noticed the short man hadn’t moved an inch.
His shook his head, regretting it a moment after, “Jesus.”
“Dean?” Sam’s groggy voice came from a short distance across the room.
“Yeah Sammy, I’m here,” Dean answered, reflexively using the diminutive form of Sam’s name as he often did in situations like this, situations of which the numbers were uncomfortably high.
“Izzz Sam,” Sam slurred and Dean grinned a little even though it hurt his cheeks to do so. At least if Sam was correcting him, his little brother was all right... Hopefully.
Dean braved opening his eyes again and found that the semi-darkness of the room made it somewhat bearable to do so. He also realized that he was lashed to the bed once more in invisible bonds.
“I’m very sorry,” the short one (Potter was it?) said with genuine regret in his voice. “It’s just we can’t risk you running off after seeing us. I’m sure you understand. However, I do have a plan to propose that will ensure your quick release, if you agree to it. I do promise though, that whatever you decide, you will not be harmed.”
“We’ve already been harmed,” Dean snapped at the slightly younger man, mocking his accent.
“We’re sorry,” Potter said again.
“He’s sorry... I find it amusing,” Malfoy grinned. Potter slugged him in the arm and Malfoy mouthed “ow” at the shorter man, rubbing the tender spot. He glared and lapsed into what Dean was sure was pouty silence. The expression on his face resembled Sam quite a bit when he was “bitchfacing” at Dean. Dean looked between both men and wondered at the relationship there.
“What’s this plan?” Sam groaned from Dean’s side. Clearly Malfoy hadn’t been as gentle with Sam as Potter had been with him.
“That we help one another,” Potter said simply. “The Ameri-Magic Senate called us here, but they gave us little information. Clearly we are after the same thing and I thought perhaps with our combined experience we could take care of this problem before it escalates any farther.”
“And you’ll let us go? Free from harm?” Sam asked.
“Of course,” Potter said at the same time Malfoy said, “Probably.”
“Great way to instil confidence there boys,” Dean sneered.
“Malfoy’s just being an arse. He won’t hurt you. He merely has an infliction that prevents him from keeping his bloody mouth shut,” Potter glared at his partner.
“Ouch, dear me, that stung. However am I to recover from your barb’d tongue?” Malfoy said dramatically, not at all quelled.
“How can we trust you?” Sam asked.
Dean thought it was a damn good question. Potter was being… too nice and Malfoy’s eyes were stilted just a little too much for Dean’s liking. His first thought of course was haul ass and run like hell, but there was that whole annoying issue of being trussed up like a pig on a spit that put the brakes on that one. So that, combined with super freaky magical powers didn’t put trusting these guys high on Dean’s list of priorities.
“We aren’t bad people, Sam,” Potter said gently. Dean turned his gaze towards the dark haired man, a clear look of scepticism on his face.
“I am!” Malfoy said eagerly.
“Well yes, but he has a leash,” Potter jerked his thumb towards the blond man. Dean looked form one man to the other, and continued to assess them carefully. The blond one was an asshole, but the little one was all right. Dean also got the impression that the blond one was more talk than swagger anyway. And he prided himself at being a good judge of character. It wasn’t often that he was fooled. Not like Demon-Casanova Sammy. But there had been Cas... Dean stopped those thoughts before the angel could cloud his mind. Now was not the time to think of him, prostrate and bound to a bed... Dean shook his head again. Now was not the time to think of the fucking angel. Dean felt his neck go a little hot. Now was not the time. He left his thoughts at that and he and Sam shared a glance. Sam’s puppy dog eyes were swimming and Dean knew he wanted to take the witches or whatever they were at their word... Or maybe he was just concussed.
Dean glared back and forth, using his gut and trying to figure out his next move, finally he made his decision, “Fine. But if the bastard there makes one wrong move I get to shoot him.”
Potter grinned, “Fair enough.”
Malfoy frowned looking puzzled, “Shoot me? What does that mean?” Dean blinked, was this guy serious?
“Nothing,” Potter said innocently.
Malfoy mumbled something about bloody muggles before he rose, “I’m going to make some tea.”
“Tea?” Dean asked flatly. “Really?” Malfoy flicked a hand and Dean felt something sting his cheek. He flinched and glared after the innocently retreating blond.
“Hey!” Dean struggled against the invisible bonds. “Let me at that little bitch.”
“Please try to ignore him,” Potter said in a placating manner. “He really is quite nice once you get past... Well... Him...” Potter looked confused at his own train of thought for a moment before shrugging.
“Just relax and I’ll let you up,” Potter entreated. Reluctantly Dean settled and looked over at Sam who still seemed a little more doped up than he should have been.
“Is he all right?” Dean asked, all anger at the blond bastard flying from him in the face of concern for his little brother.
Potter frowned over at the tall man as he casually released Dean and then Sam.
“He does seem to be taking it rather hard. Malfoy’s a git, but his not a malicious one... Er... Any longer,” Potter said uncomfortably. “He acts like he is but that’s mostly because he’s uncomfortable around muggles... Um, non-magic people.”
Well that answered one question that Dean had been wondering about but he still had a thousand-and-one more. He stood, groaning as his muscles protested after being confined for so long and walked over to Sam’s cot before sitting on the edge.
“Sam... Sammy, you okay Dude?” Dean asked gently.
“Feel... sick,” Sam muttered, squinting up at his brother as if the light hurt his eyes.
“Would you allow me...?” Potter asked, gesturing to Sam.
Dean hesitated for a moment, aside of the whole tying up thing Potter hadn’t done anything to hurt them. Also Dean didn’t really have a whole lot of options here which just made him feel boned all to hell… again.
Eventually even though well over half his instincts where pounding at his skull for him not to, Dean nodded and moved away. Potter came over and stared down at Sam for a minute. He waved his fingers in a small messy arch and waited. He stood with his head cocked to the side and each moment of passing silence made Dean’s anxiety increase. Suddenly Potter’s eyes widened and he leaned in and began rifling through Sam’s pockets.
“Hey there Bad-Touch, watch it!” Dean exclaimed moving forward protectively.
“Calm down Dean. I’ve located the problem,” Potter said gently. Dean began to remember how much he hated being told to calm down and felt his anger stirring. He took a deep breath and waited. Finally Potter seemed to have found what he had been searching for and held the small sample vials victoriously aloft.
“Dark Magic Sickness,” Potter explained waving the vial with the black substance to further his point. “How long has he been carrying it?”
“How long have we been out?” Dean countered.
“A few hours,” Potter replied.
Dean shifted, “A little longer than that, then.”
“Oh, well I’ll do a quick aura cleanse. It should work on muggles just as well as wizards,” Potter said. “He’ll be fine after that.”
Wizards? Jeeze, this was getting more and more ridiculous. Dean watched anxiously as Potter tucked the vials away and sat next to Sam on the bed. He closed his eyes and kept his hands resting lightly on his lap. No silly little waves this time, no ridiculous magic words. Just sat. Dean saw Sam shimmer for a moment a sort of rusty copper red colour before it faded and he was just Sam again. His breathing seemed to deepen and even out and colour that Dean hadn’t realized Sam had lost flooded back.
“That’s that,” Potter patted Dean’s shoulder as he passed. “I’m going to make sure Malfoy hasn’t destroyed the kitchen. Do you need anything?”
“No, thanks,” Dean replied distractedly.
“Right then.” Potter nodded and moved to leave the room but paused at the door, “Oh, and don’t try to leave the house. I’ve warded it against anyone trying to leave or enter without express permission. If you try you may get hurt. It’s not that I don’t trust you...” Potter didn’t finish the lie. Dean got the message, loud and clear.
Dean didn’t blame the Englishman really, if their situations were reversed Dean wouldn’t trust him either. Hell, Dean probably wouldn’t have even untied them. But then again, Dean didn’t have magic to keep wizards or whatever they hell they were inside.
“Damnit Sam, what have we gotten ourselves into this time?” Dean asked quietly as he sat on his brother’s bed, resting his forehead on his clasped hands.
Dean dragged his hands apart and rubbed his face, staring off into nothing for a moment. But that was dangerous, staring at nothing, doing nothing, saying nothing made Dean think and right now that is the last thing Dean wanted to do. Unbidden flashes of dark hair and blue eyes stole across his mind and he shook his head, punching a fist into the thin padding of the cot. You aren’t my family Dean. I have no family.
“Fuck you Cas,” Dean hissed, pushing himself almost violently off Sam’s cot and causing the flimsy thing to wobble slightly. Dean steadied it quickly and moved off staring out the window into the over grown yard below.
Dean leaned his head against the cool pane of glass and shut his eyes. For once, realizing it was harder and harder to fight, he let the thoughts come.
_*_
Dean sat alone in his motel room. Sam was off again doing God knows what, leaving Dean in brooding silence.
He felt more than saw Castiel arrive and glanced over at the angel. Cas was sitting so close that their thighs touched and the eldest Winchester could feel the warm of him through his jeans. Dean would normally give the angel a lesson in personal space but honestly he just appreciated the contact of another being at that moment. Even if that being took the meaning of ‘socially awkward’ to a whole new plain of existence.
“I sensed you were in distress,” Castiel said in that monotonous way of his.
“I’m fine,” Dean countered gruffly.
“All right Dean,” Castiel said, but the angel didn’t move and gradually Dean began to feel better.
_*_
It wasn’t often that Dean allowed himself to remember, to grieve. He always felt it was necessary to keep up a brave face in front of Sam. Dean would forever be his big brother after all. But, on the occasions he did open up to his little brother he found it difficult to take Sam’s pitying looks. It was just too much sometimes.
Losing Cas hit harder than Dean thought it should have. He had tried to lie to himself, but he’d only ever been good at lying to other people. That had been one of the reasons Dean had been so glad to come across this case. At least he could be distracted, for a little while anyway. He just hoped they weren’t getting in over their heads... Again.
Now Sam was sick, and they were stuck with fucking wizards, who may very well literally be able to kill them both with a thought. Somehow Dean understood that it was all his fault.
He contemplated briefly trying to make a run for it, but his better judgement told him that keeping one’s skin intact was probably the better way to deal with two suspicious magic welding foreigners. Dean sighed and turned away from the window. He glanced around, the barren room and his eye lit upon his suit jacket slung over a rickety looking chair. Curious, but not expecting much Dean walked over and looked through the pockets. When his hand hit cool metal he grinned. Well wizards were good for one thing they were too damn arrogant to check for guns. Dean checked the clip, full still, he hadn’t had a chance to use it and tucked it away in his waist band, un-tucking his white dress shirt to hide it the best he could.
Having a gun was great and all, but a gun didn’t get him out of a magic-bubble or whatever the hell it was. Dean sighed again. He checked on Sam and then left the room in search of some liquid lunch. He wondered absently if wizards could conjure a 2-6 of Jack. At least then the fucking guys would be good for something other than pissing him off.
Chapter Four
Author: Stolen Childe
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the boys. I just like to play with them.
Author’s Notes: Okay, again not a whole lot of action, it’s a little longer because Dean likes to talk. For those of you reading this on LJ, I did not post chapter two on sn_fic there wasn’t enough Sam and Dean in it. So please see previous parts.
Please see Master Post for warnings, ratings and previous chapters.
*****************************
Chapter Three - Wherein Dean returns from then returns to Dream Town…
Dean woke fully to the sound of a door opening that sounded like a gunshot. That’s funny, he didn’t remember getting drunk, but maybe that just meant he had a hell of a good time. Then he felt a queasy uncomfortable feeling like his guts were trying to reorient themselves and he flashed back to the morgue and the two weird guys with cloaks and the whipping, pulling, bending, turning that reduced him to his current state. As promised by the tall snide one, Dean had a headache that hurt like hell. Curtains were yanked open just as Dean fully opened his eyes and sunlight seemed to pierce into his brain like hot needles.
“Son of a bitch!” he cursed, slamming his eyes shut.
“Oh! Sorry!” the room was darkened once more but Dean noticed the short man hadn’t moved an inch.
His shook his head, regretting it a moment after, “Jesus.”
“Dean?” Sam’s groggy voice came from a short distance across the room.
“Yeah Sammy, I’m here,” Dean answered, reflexively using the diminutive form of Sam’s name as he often did in situations like this, situations of which the numbers were uncomfortably high.
“Izzz Sam,” Sam slurred and Dean grinned a little even though it hurt his cheeks to do so. At least if Sam was correcting him, his little brother was all right... Hopefully.
Dean braved opening his eyes again and found that the semi-darkness of the room made it somewhat bearable to do so. He also realized that he was lashed to the bed once more in invisible bonds.
“I’m very sorry,” the short one (Potter was it?) said with genuine regret in his voice. “It’s just we can’t risk you running off after seeing us. I’m sure you understand. However, I do have a plan to propose that will ensure your quick release, if you agree to it. I do promise though, that whatever you decide, you will not be harmed.”
“We’ve already been harmed,” Dean snapped at the slightly younger man, mocking his accent.
“We’re sorry,” Potter said again.
“He’s sorry... I find it amusing,” Malfoy grinned. Potter slugged him in the arm and Malfoy mouthed “ow” at the shorter man, rubbing the tender spot. He glared and lapsed into what Dean was sure was pouty silence. The expression on his face resembled Sam quite a bit when he was “bitchfacing” at Dean. Dean looked between both men and wondered at the relationship there.
“What’s this plan?” Sam groaned from Dean’s side. Clearly Malfoy hadn’t been as gentle with Sam as Potter had been with him.
“That we help one another,” Potter said simply. “The Ameri-Magic Senate called us here, but they gave us little information. Clearly we are after the same thing and I thought perhaps with our combined experience we could take care of this problem before it escalates any farther.”
“And you’ll let us go? Free from harm?” Sam asked.
“Of course,” Potter said at the same time Malfoy said, “Probably.”
“Great way to instil confidence there boys,” Dean sneered.
“Malfoy’s just being an arse. He won’t hurt you. He merely has an infliction that prevents him from keeping his bloody mouth shut,” Potter glared at his partner.
“Ouch, dear me, that stung. However am I to recover from your barb’d tongue?” Malfoy said dramatically, not at all quelled.
“How can we trust you?” Sam asked.
Dean thought it was a damn good question. Potter was being… too nice and Malfoy’s eyes were stilted just a little too much for Dean’s liking. His first thought of course was haul ass and run like hell, but there was that whole annoying issue of being trussed up like a pig on a spit that put the brakes on that one. So that, combined with super freaky magical powers didn’t put trusting these guys high on Dean’s list of priorities.
“We aren’t bad people, Sam,” Potter said gently. Dean turned his gaze towards the dark haired man, a clear look of scepticism on his face.
“I am!” Malfoy said eagerly.
“Well yes, but he has a leash,” Potter jerked his thumb towards the blond man. Dean looked form one man to the other, and continued to assess them carefully. The blond one was an asshole, but the little one was all right. Dean also got the impression that the blond one was more talk than swagger anyway. And he prided himself at being a good judge of character. It wasn’t often that he was fooled. Not like Demon-Casanova Sammy. But there had been Cas... Dean stopped those thoughts before the angel could cloud his mind. Now was not the time to think of him, prostrate and bound to a bed... Dean shook his head again. Now was not the time to think of the fucking angel. Dean felt his neck go a little hot. Now was not the time. He left his thoughts at that and he and Sam shared a glance. Sam’s puppy dog eyes were swimming and Dean knew he wanted to take the witches or whatever they were at their word... Or maybe he was just concussed.
Dean glared back and forth, using his gut and trying to figure out his next move, finally he made his decision, “Fine. But if the bastard there makes one wrong move I get to shoot him.”
Potter grinned, “Fair enough.”
Malfoy frowned looking puzzled, “Shoot me? What does that mean?” Dean blinked, was this guy serious?
“Nothing,” Potter said innocently.
Malfoy mumbled something about bloody muggles before he rose, “I’m going to make some tea.”
“Tea?” Dean asked flatly. “Really?” Malfoy flicked a hand and Dean felt something sting his cheek. He flinched and glared after the innocently retreating blond.
“Hey!” Dean struggled against the invisible bonds. “Let me at that little bitch.”
“Please try to ignore him,” Potter said in a placating manner. “He really is quite nice once you get past... Well... Him...” Potter looked confused at his own train of thought for a moment before shrugging.
“Just relax and I’ll let you up,” Potter entreated. Reluctantly Dean settled and looked over at Sam who still seemed a little more doped up than he should have been.
“Is he all right?” Dean asked, all anger at the blond bastard flying from him in the face of concern for his little brother.
Potter frowned over at the tall man as he casually released Dean and then Sam.
“He does seem to be taking it rather hard. Malfoy’s a git, but his not a malicious one... Er... Any longer,” Potter said uncomfortably. “He acts like he is but that’s mostly because he’s uncomfortable around muggles... Um, non-magic people.”
Well that answered one question that Dean had been wondering about but he still had a thousand-and-one more. He stood, groaning as his muscles protested after being confined for so long and walked over to Sam’s cot before sitting on the edge.
“Sam... Sammy, you okay Dude?” Dean asked gently.
“Feel... sick,” Sam muttered, squinting up at his brother as if the light hurt his eyes.
“Would you allow me...?” Potter asked, gesturing to Sam.
Dean hesitated for a moment, aside of the whole tying up thing Potter hadn’t done anything to hurt them. Also Dean didn’t really have a whole lot of options here which just made him feel boned all to hell… again.
Eventually even though well over half his instincts where pounding at his skull for him not to, Dean nodded and moved away. Potter came over and stared down at Sam for a minute. He waved his fingers in a small messy arch and waited. He stood with his head cocked to the side and each moment of passing silence made Dean’s anxiety increase. Suddenly Potter’s eyes widened and he leaned in and began rifling through Sam’s pockets.
“Hey there Bad-Touch, watch it!” Dean exclaimed moving forward protectively.
“Calm down Dean. I’ve located the problem,” Potter said gently. Dean began to remember how much he hated being told to calm down and felt his anger stirring. He took a deep breath and waited. Finally Potter seemed to have found what he had been searching for and held the small sample vials victoriously aloft.
“Dark Magic Sickness,” Potter explained waving the vial with the black substance to further his point. “How long has he been carrying it?”
“How long have we been out?” Dean countered.
“A few hours,” Potter replied.
Dean shifted, “A little longer than that, then.”
“Oh, well I’ll do a quick aura cleanse. It should work on muggles just as well as wizards,” Potter said. “He’ll be fine after that.”
Wizards? Jeeze, this was getting more and more ridiculous. Dean watched anxiously as Potter tucked the vials away and sat next to Sam on the bed. He closed his eyes and kept his hands resting lightly on his lap. No silly little waves this time, no ridiculous magic words. Just sat. Dean saw Sam shimmer for a moment a sort of rusty copper red colour before it faded and he was just Sam again. His breathing seemed to deepen and even out and colour that Dean hadn’t realized Sam had lost flooded back.
“That’s that,” Potter patted Dean’s shoulder as he passed. “I’m going to make sure Malfoy hasn’t destroyed the kitchen. Do you need anything?”
“No, thanks,” Dean replied distractedly.
“Right then.” Potter nodded and moved to leave the room but paused at the door, “Oh, and don’t try to leave the house. I’ve warded it against anyone trying to leave or enter without express permission. If you try you may get hurt. It’s not that I don’t trust you...” Potter didn’t finish the lie. Dean got the message, loud and clear.
Dean didn’t blame the Englishman really, if their situations were reversed Dean wouldn’t trust him either. Hell, Dean probably wouldn’t have even untied them. But then again, Dean didn’t have magic to keep wizards or whatever they hell they were inside.
“Damnit Sam, what have we gotten ourselves into this time?” Dean asked quietly as he sat on his brother’s bed, resting his forehead on his clasped hands.
Dean dragged his hands apart and rubbed his face, staring off into nothing for a moment. But that was dangerous, staring at nothing, doing nothing, saying nothing made Dean think and right now that is the last thing Dean wanted to do. Unbidden flashes of dark hair and blue eyes stole across his mind and he shook his head, punching a fist into the thin padding of the cot. You aren’t my family Dean. I have no family.
“Fuck you Cas,” Dean hissed, pushing himself almost violently off Sam’s cot and causing the flimsy thing to wobble slightly. Dean steadied it quickly and moved off staring out the window into the over grown yard below.
Dean leaned his head against the cool pane of glass and shut his eyes. For once, realizing it was harder and harder to fight, he let the thoughts come.
_*_
Dean sat alone in his motel room. Sam was off again doing God knows what, leaving Dean in brooding silence.
He felt more than saw Castiel arrive and glanced over at the angel. Cas was sitting so close that their thighs touched and the eldest Winchester could feel the warm of him through his jeans. Dean would normally give the angel a lesson in personal space but honestly he just appreciated the contact of another being at that moment. Even if that being took the meaning of ‘socially awkward’ to a whole new plain of existence.
“I sensed you were in distress,” Castiel said in that monotonous way of his.
“I’m fine,” Dean countered gruffly.
“All right Dean,” Castiel said, but the angel didn’t move and gradually Dean began to feel better.
_*_
It wasn’t often that Dean allowed himself to remember, to grieve. He always felt it was necessary to keep up a brave face in front of Sam. Dean would forever be his big brother after all. But, on the occasions he did open up to his little brother he found it difficult to take Sam’s pitying looks. It was just too much sometimes.
Losing Cas hit harder than Dean thought it should have. He had tried to lie to himself, but he’d only ever been good at lying to other people. That had been one of the reasons Dean had been so glad to come across this case. At least he could be distracted, for a little while anyway. He just hoped they weren’t getting in over their heads... Again.
Now Sam was sick, and they were stuck with fucking wizards, who may very well literally be able to kill them both with a thought. Somehow Dean understood that it was all his fault.
He contemplated briefly trying to make a run for it, but his better judgement told him that keeping one’s skin intact was probably the better way to deal with two suspicious magic welding foreigners. Dean sighed and turned away from the window. He glanced around, the barren room and his eye lit upon his suit jacket slung over a rickety looking chair. Curious, but not expecting much Dean walked over and looked through the pockets. When his hand hit cool metal he grinned. Well wizards were good for one thing they were too damn arrogant to check for guns. Dean checked the clip, full still, he hadn’t had a chance to use it and tucked it away in his waist band, un-tucking his white dress shirt to hide it the best he could.
Having a gun was great and all, but a gun didn’t get him out of a magic-bubble or whatever the hell it was. Dean sighed again. He checked on Sam and then left the room in search of some liquid lunch. He wondered absently if wizards could conjure a 2-6 of Jack. At least then the fucking guys would be good for something other than pissing him off.
Chapter Four