SN/DH Crossover: Demon Hunter
x-posted
Title: Demon Hunter
’Verse: Dark Hunter/Supernatural Crossover
Author: Trystan
Rating: same as the show
Paring: none in this fic, but Het if there are to be any
Spoilers: “All Hell Breaks Loose II,” “A Very Supernatural Christmas” // Knowledge of the Dark-Hunter'verse is a plus
Word Count: 3,487
Notable Credits: thanks to my awesome beta readers, aphrodite, bodgei, moondropz, raloria and strangevisitor7. Ash and Simi and all the Dark Hunters belong to Kenyon. Sam and Dean are not mine, although goddess knows I wish Dean was.
Author’s Notes: damn plot bunnies.
Author’s Notes II: This is a free-for-all ’verse. As long as Supernatural canon, Dark Hunter canon, and my own canon I’ve created are observed, feel free to play in my sandbox I’ve created here. OCs are welcome, as are canon characters from either series.
Summary: The Crossroads Demon didn’t hold Dean’s soul in that contract he made with her - a higher-up did. Ever wonder who it was?
I’m the day, I’m the day
I can show you the way
And look, I’m right beside you
I’m the night, I’m the night
I’m the dark and the light
With eyes that see inside you
~ Rainbow ©1975
Excerpt from the Dark Hunter Handbook, by Acheron Parthenopaeus: (as transcribed by Trystan)
Pertaining to: Demon Hunters and Dark Hunters
When a Demon Hunter dies, he or she may become a Dark Hunter if:(a) the Demon Hunter has an amulet, token, favor, trinket given in the act of love (selfish, selfless, familial, friendly, requited, unrequited) give by someone, and
(b) that someone must still be living at the time of the Demon Hunter's death.
Once the Demon Hunter has become a Dark Hunter, it is highly discouraged contacting the survivor and any other friends or family; however, this is not forbidden, but the utmost discretion is advised.
Sunlight is highly unadvised as well.
These new Dark Hunters are the domain and responsibility of Acheron Parthenopaeus only. There will be no exceptions to this.
This addendum is subject to any changes or amendments by Acheron Parthenopaeus only, at any time, for any reason.
~*~
“You’ll bring him back?” Dean asked the crossroads demon he had summoned.
The brunette smiled back at the famous Dean Winchester. “I will. And because I’m such a saint,” she smiled at her word choice, “I’ll give you one year. And one year only.”
And then she became serious. “But here’s the thing - if you try and welch or weasel your way out, then the deal is off. Sam drops dead. He’s back to rotten meat in no time. So ... .it’s a better deal than your dad ever got. What do you say?”
Dean didn’t even have to think about it. He crushed his lips to hers, sealing the deal.
~*~
One year later....
The books were piled on the table, the floor, and even the couch in Bobby Singer’s little home. Some were open to spells, others were open to exorcism rituals, and others were just open randomly. Sam Winchester sighed, and desperately hoped that the next thing he’d read had even a hint of an answer.
Dean was more than a little pissed off. He’d told Sam to stop looking for an answer a year ago. Instead of watching Sammy rifle through ancient texts, they should he out partying instead.
Ellen Harvelle was in the kitchen with Bobby, talking about something in low tones, and Dean suspected it might be about him. Jo, Ellen’s daughter, was in the back yard, tossing knives at a bull’s-eye, mounted on one of the cars.
“Can I join you?” Dean asked, suddenly at Jo’s side. She jumped, but handed him a knife.
“Shouldn’t you be out somewhere, doing something?” she asked, tossing a knife and missing.
“Or someone,” he replied crudely, tossing the knife and getting it stuck in the center.
“Midnight?” she asked, referring to the time the deal was up.
“Yeah, I think,” he said, bringing the knives back. A look came across his face, and she didn’t know what it meant. He dropped the knives on the ground, took her by the shoulders, and kissed her deeply, if only for a moment.
“See ya, Jo,” he said, and went back in the house. She stood there, stunned.
“I’m going out, guys,” Dean said, making a beeline for his jacket, where the Impala keys were. Everyone spoke at once.
“What do you mean, out? Dean - we have work to do!” Sam said.
“Dean?” Ellen called to him.
“What are you talking about, son?” Bobby asked.
“You’re not the one who has less than eight hours left,” Dean said, and kept on walking out the front door. They heard the car start up, the crunch of the stone driveway under the tires, and the car drive away.
~*~
It was late morning the next day when Sam started down the road. Dean hadn’t come back the previous night, and Sam needed to know what happened. Bobby and Ellen hadn’t tried to stop him, either.
He chosen to walk, in case he found the Impala. He had the extra key Bobby made him, and thoughts churned in his mind about what he would do if he did find the Impala, and Dean -
Sam let out a small gasp when he did see the Impala, simply parked along the shoulder of the country road, as if the driver had simply pulled over to stop. Knowing it was futile, he searched around the empty fields anyway. Maybe Dean’s body was out there, but there was nothing that Sam could see.
Not ready to believe the worst, he pulled out his cell, and called Dean’s number. He almost dropped his phone when Dean’s rang from the front passenger seat. Sam hit the end button, folded his phone closed, and looked into the car. He grabbed Dean’s phone, and that was when he noticed the keys were still in the ignition.
Something very odd was certainly afoot.
~*~
The days turned into weeks, and it was after the second month that Bobby finally told Sam what they’d all been thinking.
“Maybe you ought to face reality, Sam. Dean’s gone.”
“No,” Sam said stubbornly. “He didn’t give up on me, when he just as easily could have. So, no.”
“Where else are you going to look?”
“I don’t know - I - ” he stopped abruptly, an idea coming to him. “I’ll just keep doing what I’ve done these last few years - hunting. Find the jobs, follow him like we did Dad.”
“Follow him? That means you have a lead,” Bobby pointed out.
“Actually,” Sam admitted, “I don’t. I was hoping to look for a job, and see if I wasn’t the only one out there hunting.”
Bobby came over to stand next to where Sam sat at the table. He put a warm hand on Sam’s shoulder. The older man had a million things he should tell Sam - that Dean was dead; that he was never coming back; to move on - but he realized the youngest Winchester was completely serious about this. Instead, he just gruffly said,
“We should order out for a pizza. We’ll need it if we’re going hunting.”
Sam looked up at the man he’d begun to think of as his father these last few years with a shocked expression. Then he smiled.
“Thanks, man.”
Bobby ordered the pizza, and Ellen and Jo joined them that night at Bobby’s.
~*~
It was just about a year later when Sam hit on something. He and Bobby had been hunting with Ellen and Jo in those first few months, but sometime after, Ellen had bought another building, and reopened the Roadhouse. Jo had been the one instrumental in buying the building, with the hopes that it would help her mom get past everything that had happened.
Sam and Bobby pulled up in the Impala at the new Roadhouse, and now Sam was just surfing online, taking the links to whatever random place they led him. He ended up back on the Hellhound’s Lair, a site that was run by two hunter-wannabes that Sam and Dean had run into on their search for their father.
It wasn’t that he was purposely back on the site, it was the account of a hunter, telling about a menace called the Daimons that caught his attention. They weren’t your typical vampires, the narrative read - they sucked your soul, not your blood, so they themselves could remain alive. The article warned they were running rampant, and to be on the lookout for them. A stake through the heart would kill them, but these Daimons were quick and ruthless.
Sam read the account simply because he’d never seen anything like this before. The article included names he’d never heard of before - they sounded like code names - who fought these Daimons on what seemed like a nightly basis. There was a link at the bottom (under the digital signature of “Tabby”) to another site, Dark-Hunter.com.
Sam clicked, and was greeted with a log-in page.
He went back to the article, and opened the log-in page in another tab, and went back and forth between the account and the gateway page, trying various combinations. After a few that didn’t work, Sam googled the Dark-Hunter.com link to see if there were any places on the site he could get to without the password.
Interestingly enough, there were some cached pages he could view, and he opened these in a few tabs. One looked like a legal contract, which he briefly scrolled though, intending to close it, until a phrase leapt off the page at him - Demon Hunter.
~*~
Dean Winchester was sprawled out on what felt like a cloud, but he knew that wasn’t right. Eyes still closed, he stretched out like a cat does after a long, restful nap. He could only be on a bed, but he never felt a bed this soft. He had to be dreaming, or - dead? At that thought, he opened his eyes and sat up. He was on a bed all right - a huge, king-sized bed, in a white room. Too white for Dean’s taste: white bed, white sheets, white wispy drapes hung round the bed, white walls. It was a total white-out, and he was the only color.
Somewhere in swinging his legs over the edge of the bed he realized he was only wearing jeans - no shirt or socks or boots. Well that was interesting. The floor felt solid enough as he stood up, untangling himself from the sheer curtains, and emerging into the white room. There was only one window, which Dean looked out cautiously. The only way to describe what he saw was Paradise.
He reached towards it, and it all fell away, and he was in a dark forest now, back to wearing his t-shirt and boots with his jeans. He heard crunching noises around him, and he looked around for the source. And then something flew at him. But the training his father had given him and Sammy came back to him, and he blocked whatever came at him.
And there were a lot of things that came flying that day. Dean had no idea how long he fought the myriad creatures. Some looked human, but if he kicked it just right, it turned to dust. Some looked like demons, which were very difficult to keep down.
By the time darkness fell, he was exhausted, but still had no clues as to where he was, how he got there - or even if he was alive or dead. And there were two other questions niggling at the back of his mind - who brought him to this place - and why?
He was waiting for yet another attack when the scene shifted again, this time to a large dining room that looked like it belonged in a mansion. On a long table was a feast was fit for a king. It was laden with everything Dean enjoyed, and it was all still hot. After much internal debate, he filled up a plate, sat at one of the end places, and began to eat. If he was dead, he might as well enjoy the food, right? He washed it down with his favorite beer, and leaned back in the chair, fully sated and sleepy, and his eyes started to close.
He opened them less than a moment later when he heard a scuffling sound, and saw a very tall man with very long hair standing next to the side of the table. Next to him was a young woman in Goth clothing, but her skin was red, and she had little horns on her head, protruding from a mass of black hair. Dean could only describe her as, well, a demon.
“Can The Simi bbq this one, Akri?” asked the demon.
“No, Simi, you can’t barbeque this one. This one’s special,” said the tall man with the patience a father has for an over-indulgent daughter. At being called “special,” Dean sat up straight.
“I’m right here,” Dean pointed out.
The tall man smiled, pulled out a chair and sat down. Simi went over to Dean and watched him intently.
“What’s she doing?” he asked.
“Just checking you out. Charonte demons are hard to figure out sometimes.”
At that, Dean stood up, and reached for a weapon, but to his frustration realized he was unarmed. The man just smiled.
“Simi’s just a curious child,” he explained. “But I’m sure you have other questions.”
Dean eased himself back into the chair and studied the tall man. His hair was long and black, and had a blue streak through it. He wore leather pants, a t-shirt with a few holes in it, and a well-worn leather biker jacket.
Dean had a million questions to ask this stranger, but he started with what he’d just overheard.
“Why am I special?”
“You’re Dean Winchester,” the man said, as if that explained everything. Dean blinked a moment at this information.
“Am I dead?”
“That’s the good news,” the man said.
“And the bad news?”
“Do you remember when Sam used the bullet to kill the demon at the crossroads?” At Dean’s nod, the stranger continued. “That demon did not hold the contract to your soul. Someone else did. She was only the messenger.”
“So, Sam killing Red-Eyes didn’t do anything?”
“Not a thing.”
“Who held the contract?” Dean was curious now.
“That’s not important now.”
“Actually is it, to me anyway,” Dean barely growled out.
“Well I hold it now, that’s all that matters.”
“And who are you?”
“Acheron Parthenopaeus.”
“Bless you,” Dean smirked.
“Most people just call me Ash,” Ash replied, amused.
“But I’d still like to know where you got the contract from. This is my soul we’re talking about.”
“Can’t tell you that.”
“Can’t - or won’t? Since you know who I am, you know what I do, I can take out your demon in an instant.”
Simi made a sound that Dean could only have interpreted as a scream, and then he was fending her off.
“Simi!” Ash called, and Simi turned back to him. “Remember what we talked about with this one.”
“But he’s a Demon Hunter, Akri,” she whined.
“Yes, Simi, I know. But we need this one.”
“You keep saying that,” Dean said, “What am I to you?”
“Apart from your father, you’re the best Demon Hunter this world has.”
“Dad?” Dean sat up straighter. “Is he still alive?” Dean asked, somehow still hoping.
“Unfortunately, not. There are certain... qualifications for a Demon Hunter to become a Dark-Hunter.”
“A Dark-Hunter,” Dean repeated.
“You have something, given to you selflessly, by someone who loves you?” Ash asked. He watched Dean think about it, sift through his memories, until they rested on a Christmas when he was about 12 years old. His hand went to the amulet that Sam had given him. Sam said the amulet was supposed to be for John, from Uncle Bobby, but on that Christmas Eve, when John hadn’t returned to their motel room, Sam gave the trinket to his older brother. Just like that.
“Since Sam is still alive,” Ash intruded into his thoughts, “you have the option to become a Dark-Hunter, and continue your demon hunting, if you so choose.”
“And if I choose not?”
Ash chose his next words deliberately.
“Your soul goes back to Artemis.”
“Artemis?” Dean said, surprised. “Virgin goddess of the hunt, that Artemis?”
“Bitch heifer goddess,” Simi muttered. “She’d be good with bbq sauce.”
“No, Simi, we talked about that,” Ash told her. Again.
“Akri never lets the Simi have fun,” she pouted.
“You know, I think I agree with you, Simi,” Dean sighed. There was a lot to all of this he didn’t understand, but he looked up at Ash. “Ok, another question: where am I?”
“Wherever you want it to be.”
“Okay, that was cryptic, Yoda,” Dean said. “How about Sammy? Can I find him?”
“It’s not advisable,” Ash started.
“But you wouldn’t stop me?” Dean prompted.
“Most Dark-Hunters died violent deaths, and their families wouldn’t believe them if they found out their loved ones were really alive. It’s just - ”
“Impossible to take in?” Dean supplied.
“Since Sam is a Demon Hunter, he’d be more open-minded if he were to see you were alive,” Ash finished.
“Sam might think that this body is possessed or something?”
“Do you think he would?”
“No... but Bobby would.”
Ash nodded in agreement.
Dean mulled over all the information he was given, but there was still so many questions he had.
“So, you know all about me. I need to know something about you.”
At that, Simi sat down on Dean’s lap. “My akri doesn’t like to talk about himself,” she said, and Dean looked over at Ash. He remained motionless. “He’s the biggest, baddest Dark Hunter ever.” She discovered Dean’s hair, and was now running her hands over it. “Ooh, soft. Akri doesn’t let me do this.”
“What does “akri” mean?” Dean asked her.
“Father,” Ash said in a tone that made Simi jump up from Dean’s lap rather quickly.
“Ok, that was weird,” Dean muttered. Then he looked at Ash again. “When can I see Sammy?”
“After a few more days of training,” Ash said. “But I should warn you - that where we are now, time does not pass the same as it does for Sam. I cannot say how long you will have been gone from your family. And there are still things you have yet to learn.”
Dean nodded. There was a lot to take in. But the two things that were forefront in his mind were that he was alive, and that he’d be able to go back to his family.
~*~
“Demon Hunter,” Sam insisted. “I’m telling you that’s what it said.”
It was early in the evening when Bobby returned to the back room at the Roadhouse to check on Sam to see if he’d made any progress. But when Sam called up the page he’d saved, there was nothing there, but a white webpage.
“I’m sorry, son,” Bobby said, clasping Sam’s shoulder. “I believe you saw it, and that’s what matters.” Bobby left the room.
Sam sighed. He had seen those words, but why were they gone now?
“Damn it,” Sam muttered, and closed the browser program.
“Drawin’ a blank there, Sammy?” asked a voice from the doorway.
“Yeah, I can’t find this webp - ” Sam started to say, and then recognized the voice, and looked up.
“Dean?!” Sam gasped, and stood up, knocking his chair over. And in a rare moment, Sam was the one that bear-hugged his brother, right there in the doorway. Sam’s cry, and the clattering of the chair brought Ellen, Jo, and Bobby running to see what was going on.
“Dean!” Ellen gasped, and the other two echoed her. Jo moved first, wrapping her arms around Dean in all the excitement.
“Nice place you have here, Jo,” Dean said, returning her hug.
“I - ” she started. “My mom...”
“No, Jo, it’s all you this time.” He smiled at her.
“Hey Dean?” Bobby said from next to Ellen, who was beside her daughter. Dean looked up at his surrogate father. “What’s with the sunglasses?”
Dean reached up to feel that the frames were there. It made Jo smile, and Sam chuckle.
“Dim the lights, will you?” Dean asked. “There’s been some changes.”
Bobby turned off all the lights out in the hall, and most in the room, except for one in the far corner. Dean slowly took the glasses off, to show the traditional Dark-Hunter black eyes. Jo staggered backwards into her mother.
“You’re a Demon!” she accused. Dean put the dark sunglasses back on.
“Hunter. A Demon Hunter.”
“I was right!” Sam yelled.
“You’re not my Research Geek Boy for nothing, Sammy,” Dean said, and noticed Bobby was no longer in the room. After a moment though, the older man returned with a beer, and offered it to Dean.
Dean laughed, knowing what was in the bottle. He accepted the drink with a smile, and put the bottle to his lips. He was glad he’d asked Ash about the holy water, he thought, as he chugged the bottle. He swallowed, and handed the bottle back to Bobby.
“Still watering down your beer, Bobby?”
There was a tense moment when they all looked at each other, trying to take in everything that had happened.
“But you’re still Dean?” It was Sam who was the one who finally asked.
“Of course. How long have I been away?” Dean was curious.
“A little over a year,” Sam said softly. “Where were you, Dean?”
“Wow, Ash wasn’t kidding when he said time moved differently wherever I was. I was only there for a few days. Seemed like it anyway.” The last line was more to himself. Then he looked at Sam again. “It’s a long story for another time. In the meantime, how’ve you been treating my car, Sammy?”
Everyone laughed at that, and Dean smiled - a genuine Dean Winchester smile - bearing his two little fangs, another mark of a Dark-Hunter.
***
Supernatural Fan Fiction
For entertainment only
© 2008 by Caren Franco
Beta-read by Aphrodite, Bodge, Moondropz, Raloria, and StrangeVisitor. Opening excerpt from “All Hell Breaks Loose, Part II” written by Eric Kripke and Michael T. Moore. Dean, Sam and John Winchester; Bobby Singer, Ellen and Jo Harvelle; the Crossroads Demon and Hellhound’s Lair were created by Eric Kripke, Robert Singer, Kripke Enterprises Scrap Metal and Entertainment; Warner Brothers and the CW. Acheron Parthenopaeus, Simi, Artemis (this incarnation), Dark-Hunters, Daimons, and Dark-Hunter.com were created by Sherrilyn Kenyon. Yoda belongs to George Lucas. “Man on the Silver Mountain” from “Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow” by Rainbow, ©1975.
and another reminder: This is a free-for-all ’verse. As long as Supernatural canon, Dark Hunter canon, and my own canon I’ve created are observed, feel free to play in my sandbox I’ve created here. OCs are welcome, as are canon characters from either series. (all pairings are to be het in this 'verse)
-
Title: Demon Hunter
’Verse: Dark Hunter/Supernatural Crossover
Author: Trystan
Rating: same as the show
Paring: none in this fic, but Het if there are to be any
Spoilers: “All Hell Breaks Loose II,” “A Very Supernatural Christmas” // Knowledge of the Dark-Hunter'verse is a plus
Word Count: 3,487
Notable Credits: thanks to my awesome beta readers, aphrodite, bodgei, moondropz, raloria and strangevisitor7. Ash and Simi and all the Dark Hunters belong to Kenyon. Sam and Dean are not mine, although goddess knows I wish Dean was.
Author’s Notes: damn plot bunnies.
Author’s Notes II: This is a free-for-all ’verse. As long as Supernatural canon, Dark Hunter canon, and my own canon I’ve created are observed, feel free to play in my sandbox I’ve created here. OCs are welcome, as are canon characters from either series.
Summary: The Crossroads Demon didn’t hold Dean’s soul in that contract he made with her - a higher-up did. Ever wonder who it was?
I’m the day, I’m the day
I can show you the way
And look, I’m right beside you
I’m the night, I’m the night
I’m the dark and the light
With eyes that see inside you
~ Rainbow ©1975
Excerpt from the Dark Hunter Handbook, by Acheron Parthenopaeus: (as transcribed by Trystan)
Pertaining to: Demon Hunters and Dark Hunters
When a Demon Hunter dies, he or she may become a Dark Hunter if:(a) the Demon Hunter has an amulet, token, favor, trinket given in the act of love (selfish, selfless, familial, friendly, requited, unrequited) give by someone, and
(b) that someone must still be living at the time of the Demon Hunter's death.
Once the Demon Hunter has become a Dark Hunter, it is highly discouraged contacting the survivor and any other friends or family; however, this is not forbidden, but the utmost discretion is advised.
Sunlight is highly unadvised as well.
These new Dark Hunters are the domain and responsibility of Acheron Parthenopaeus only. There will be no exceptions to this.
This addendum is subject to any changes or amendments by Acheron Parthenopaeus only, at any time, for any reason.
~*~
“You’ll bring him back?” Dean asked the crossroads demon he had summoned.
The brunette smiled back at the famous Dean Winchester. “I will. And because I’m such a saint,” she smiled at her word choice, “I’ll give you one year. And one year only.”
And then she became serious. “But here’s the thing - if you try and welch or weasel your way out, then the deal is off. Sam drops dead. He’s back to rotten meat in no time. So ... .it’s a better deal than your dad ever got. What do you say?”
Dean didn’t even have to think about it. He crushed his lips to hers, sealing the deal.
~*~
One year later....
The books were piled on the table, the floor, and even the couch in Bobby Singer’s little home. Some were open to spells, others were open to exorcism rituals, and others were just open randomly. Sam Winchester sighed, and desperately hoped that the next thing he’d read had even a hint of an answer.
Dean was more than a little pissed off. He’d told Sam to stop looking for an answer a year ago. Instead of watching Sammy rifle through ancient texts, they should he out partying instead.
Ellen Harvelle was in the kitchen with Bobby, talking about something in low tones, and Dean suspected it might be about him. Jo, Ellen’s daughter, was in the back yard, tossing knives at a bull’s-eye, mounted on one of the cars.
“Can I join you?” Dean asked, suddenly at Jo’s side. She jumped, but handed him a knife.
“Shouldn’t you be out somewhere, doing something?” she asked, tossing a knife and missing.
“Or someone,” he replied crudely, tossing the knife and getting it stuck in the center.
“Midnight?” she asked, referring to the time the deal was up.
“Yeah, I think,” he said, bringing the knives back. A look came across his face, and she didn’t know what it meant. He dropped the knives on the ground, took her by the shoulders, and kissed her deeply, if only for a moment.
“See ya, Jo,” he said, and went back in the house. She stood there, stunned.
“I’m going out, guys,” Dean said, making a beeline for his jacket, where the Impala keys were. Everyone spoke at once.
“What do you mean, out? Dean - we have work to do!” Sam said.
“Dean?” Ellen called to him.
“What are you talking about, son?” Bobby asked.
“You’re not the one who has less than eight hours left,” Dean said, and kept on walking out the front door. They heard the car start up, the crunch of the stone driveway under the tires, and the car drive away.
~*~
It was late morning the next day when Sam started down the road. Dean hadn’t come back the previous night, and Sam needed to know what happened. Bobby and Ellen hadn’t tried to stop him, either.
He chosen to walk, in case he found the Impala. He had the extra key Bobby made him, and thoughts churned in his mind about what he would do if he did find the Impala, and Dean -
Sam let out a small gasp when he did see the Impala, simply parked along the shoulder of the country road, as if the driver had simply pulled over to stop. Knowing it was futile, he searched around the empty fields anyway. Maybe Dean’s body was out there, but there was nothing that Sam could see.
Not ready to believe the worst, he pulled out his cell, and called Dean’s number. He almost dropped his phone when Dean’s rang from the front passenger seat. Sam hit the end button, folded his phone closed, and looked into the car. He grabbed Dean’s phone, and that was when he noticed the keys were still in the ignition.
Something very odd was certainly afoot.
~*~
The days turned into weeks, and it was after the second month that Bobby finally told Sam what they’d all been thinking.
“Maybe you ought to face reality, Sam. Dean’s gone.”
“No,” Sam said stubbornly. “He didn’t give up on me, when he just as easily could have. So, no.”
“Where else are you going to look?”
“I don’t know - I - ” he stopped abruptly, an idea coming to him. “I’ll just keep doing what I’ve done these last few years - hunting. Find the jobs, follow him like we did Dad.”
“Follow him? That means you have a lead,” Bobby pointed out.
“Actually,” Sam admitted, “I don’t. I was hoping to look for a job, and see if I wasn’t the only one out there hunting.”
Bobby came over to stand next to where Sam sat at the table. He put a warm hand on Sam’s shoulder. The older man had a million things he should tell Sam - that Dean was dead; that he was never coming back; to move on - but he realized the youngest Winchester was completely serious about this. Instead, he just gruffly said,
“We should order out for a pizza. We’ll need it if we’re going hunting.”
Sam looked up at the man he’d begun to think of as his father these last few years with a shocked expression. Then he smiled.
“Thanks, man.”
Bobby ordered the pizza, and Ellen and Jo joined them that night at Bobby’s.
~*~
It was just about a year later when Sam hit on something. He and Bobby had been hunting with Ellen and Jo in those first few months, but sometime after, Ellen had bought another building, and reopened the Roadhouse. Jo had been the one instrumental in buying the building, with the hopes that it would help her mom get past everything that had happened.
Sam and Bobby pulled up in the Impala at the new Roadhouse, and now Sam was just surfing online, taking the links to whatever random place they led him. He ended up back on the Hellhound’s Lair, a site that was run by two hunter-wannabes that Sam and Dean had run into on their search for their father.
It wasn’t that he was purposely back on the site, it was the account of a hunter, telling about a menace called the Daimons that caught his attention. They weren’t your typical vampires, the narrative read - they sucked your soul, not your blood, so they themselves could remain alive. The article warned they were running rampant, and to be on the lookout for them. A stake through the heart would kill them, but these Daimons were quick and ruthless.
Sam read the account simply because he’d never seen anything like this before. The article included names he’d never heard of before - they sounded like code names - who fought these Daimons on what seemed like a nightly basis. There was a link at the bottom (under the digital signature of “Tabby”) to another site, Dark-Hunter.com.
Sam clicked, and was greeted with a log-in page.
He went back to the article, and opened the log-in page in another tab, and went back and forth between the account and the gateway page, trying various combinations. After a few that didn’t work, Sam googled the Dark-Hunter.com link to see if there were any places on the site he could get to without the password.
Interestingly enough, there were some cached pages he could view, and he opened these in a few tabs. One looked like a legal contract, which he briefly scrolled though, intending to close it, until a phrase leapt off the page at him - Demon Hunter.
~*~
Dean Winchester was sprawled out on what felt like a cloud, but he knew that wasn’t right. Eyes still closed, he stretched out like a cat does after a long, restful nap. He could only be on a bed, but he never felt a bed this soft. He had to be dreaming, or - dead? At that thought, he opened his eyes and sat up. He was on a bed all right - a huge, king-sized bed, in a white room. Too white for Dean’s taste: white bed, white sheets, white wispy drapes hung round the bed, white walls. It was a total white-out, and he was the only color.
Somewhere in swinging his legs over the edge of the bed he realized he was only wearing jeans - no shirt or socks or boots. Well that was interesting. The floor felt solid enough as he stood up, untangling himself from the sheer curtains, and emerging into the white room. There was only one window, which Dean looked out cautiously. The only way to describe what he saw was Paradise.
He reached towards it, and it all fell away, and he was in a dark forest now, back to wearing his t-shirt and boots with his jeans. He heard crunching noises around him, and he looked around for the source. And then something flew at him. But the training his father had given him and Sammy came back to him, and he blocked whatever came at him.
And there were a lot of things that came flying that day. Dean had no idea how long he fought the myriad creatures. Some looked human, but if he kicked it just right, it turned to dust. Some looked like demons, which were very difficult to keep down.
By the time darkness fell, he was exhausted, but still had no clues as to where he was, how he got there - or even if he was alive or dead. And there were two other questions niggling at the back of his mind - who brought him to this place - and why?
He was waiting for yet another attack when the scene shifted again, this time to a large dining room that looked like it belonged in a mansion. On a long table was a feast was fit for a king. It was laden with everything Dean enjoyed, and it was all still hot. After much internal debate, he filled up a plate, sat at one of the end places, and began to eat. If he was dead, he might as well enjoy the food, right? He washed it down with his favorite beer, and leaned back in the chair, fully sated and sleepy, and his eyes started to close.
He opened them less than a moment later when he heard a scuffling sound, and saw a very tall man with very long hair standing next to the side of the table. Next to him was a young woman in Goth clothing, but her skin was red, and she had little horns on her head, protruding from a mass of black hair. Dean could only describe her as, well, a demon.
“Can The Simi bbq this one, Akri?” asked the demon.
“No, Simi, you can’t barbeque this one. This one’s special,” said the tall man with the patience a father has for an over-indulgent daughter. At being called “special,” Dean sat up straight.
“I’m right here,” Dean pointed out.
The tall man smiled, pulled out a chair and sat down. Simi went over to Dean and watched him intently.
“What’s she doing?” he asked.
“Just checking you out. Charonte demons are hard to figure out sometimes.”
At that, Dean stood up, and reached for a weapon, but to his frustration realized he was unarmed. The man just smiled.
“Simi’s just a curious child,” he explained. “But I’m sure you have other questions.”
Dean eased himself back into the chair and studied the tall man. His hair was long and black, and had a blue streak through it. He wore leather pants, a t-shirt with a few holes in it, and a well-worn leather biker jacket.
Dean had a million questions to ask this stranger, but he started with what he’d just overheard.
“Why am I special?”
“You’re Dean Winchester,” the man said, as if that explained everything. Dean blinked a moment at this information.
“Am I dead?”
“That’s the good news,” the man said.
“And the bad news?”
“Do you remember when Sam used the bullet to kill the demon at the crossroads?” At Dean’s nod, the stranger continued. “That demon did not hold the contract to your soul. Someone else did. She was only the messenger.”
“So, Sam killing Red-Eyes didn’t do anything?”
“Not a thing.”
“Who held the contract?” Dean was curious now.
“That’s not important now.”
“Actually is it, to me anyway,” Dean barely growled out.
“Well I hold it now, that’s all that matters.”
“And who are you?”
“Acheron Parthenopaeus.”
“Bless you,” Dean smirked.
“Most people just call me Ash,” Ash replied, amused.
“But I’d still like to know where you got the contract from. This is my soul we’re talking about.”
“Can’t tell you that.”
“Can’t - or won’t? Since you know who I am, you know what I do, I can take out your demon in an instant.”
Simi made a sound that Dean could only have interpreted as a scream, and then he was fending her off.
“Simi!” Ash called, and Simi turned back to him. “Remember what we talked about with this one.”
“But he’s a Demon Hunter, Akri,” she whined.
“Yes, Simi, I know. But we need this one.”
“You keep saying that,” Dean said, “What am I to you?”
“Apart from your father, you’re the best Demon Hunter this world has.”
“Dad?” Dean sat up straighter. “Is he still alive?” Dean asked, somehow still hoping.
“Unfortunately, not. There are certain... qualifications for a Demon Hunter to become a Dark-Hunter.”
“A Dark-Hunter,” Dean repeated.
“You have something, given to you selflessly, by someone who loves you?” Ash asked. He watched Dean think about it, sift through his memories, until they rested on a Christmas when he was about 12 years old. His hand went to the amulet that Sam had given him. Sam said the amulet was supposed to be for John, from Uncle Bobby, but on that Christmas Eve, when John hadn’t returned to their motel room, Sam gave the trinket to his older brother. Just like that.
“Since Sam is still alive,” Ash intruded into his thoughts, “you have the option to become a Dark-Hunter, and continue your demon hunting, if you so choose.”
“And if I choose not?”
Ash chose his next words deliberately.
“Your soul goes back to Artemis.”
“Artemis?” Dean said, surprised. “Virgin goddess of the hunt, that Artemis?”
“Bitch heifer goddess,” Simi muttered. “She’d be good with bbq sauce.”
“No, Simi, we talked about that,” Ash told her. Again.
“Akri never lets the Simi have fun,” she pouted.
“You know, I think I agree with you, Simi,” Dean sighed. There was a lot to all of this he didn’t understand, but he looked up at Ash. “Ok, another question: where am I?”
“Wherever you want it to be.”
“Okay, that was cryptic, Yoda,” Dean said. “How about Sammy? Can I find him?”
“It’s not advisable,” Ash started.
“But you wouldn’t stop me?” Dean prompted.
“Most Dark-Hunters died violent deaths, and their families wouldn’t believe them if they found out their loved ones were really alive. It’s just - ”
“Impossible to take in?” Dean supplied.
“Since Sam is a Demon Hunter, he’d be more open-minded if he were to see you were alive,” Ash finished.
“Sam might think that this body is possessed or something?”
“Do you think he would?”
“No... but Bobby would.”
Ash nodded in agreement.
Dean mulled over all the information he was given, but there was still so many questions he had.
“So, you know all about me. I need to know something about you.”
At that, Simi sat down on Dean’s lap. “My akri doesn’t like to talk about himself,” she said, and Dean looked over at Ash. He remained motionless. “He’s the biggest, baddest Dark Hunter ever.” She discovered Dean’s hair, and was now running her hands over it. “Ooh, soft. Akri doesn’t let me do this.”
“What does “akri” mean?” Dean asked her.
“Father,” Ash said in a tone that made Simi jump up from Dean’s lap rather quickly.
“Ok, that was weird,” Dean muttered. Then he looked at Ash again. “When can I see Sammy?”
“After a few more days of training,” Ash said. “But I should warn you - that where we are now, time does not pass the same as it does for Sam. I cannot say how long you will have been gone from your family. And there are still things you have yet to learn.”
Dean nodded. There was a lot to take in. But the two things that were forefront in his mind were that he was alive, and that he’d be able to go back to his family.
~*~
“Demon Hunter,” Sam insisted. “I’m telling you that’s what it said.”
It was early in the evening when Bobby returned to the back room at the Roadhouse to check on Sam to see if he’d made any progress. But when Sam called up the page he’d saved, there was nothing there, but a white webpage.
“I’m sorry, son,” Bobby said, clasping Sam’s shoulder. “I believe you saw it, and that’s what matters.” Bobby left the room.
Sam sighed. He had seen those words, but why were they gone now?
“Damn it,” Sam muttered, and closed the browser program.
“Drawin’ a blank there, Sammy?” asked a voice from the doorway.
“Yeah, I can’t find this webp - ” Sam started to say, and then recognized the voice, and looked up.
“Dean?!” Sam gasped, and stood up, knocking his chair over. And in a rare moment, Sam was the one that bear-hugged his brother, right there in the doorway. Sam’s cry, and the clattering of the chair brought Ellen, Jo, and Bobby running to see what was going on.
“Dean!” Ellen gasped, and the other two echoed her. Jo moved first, wrapping her arms around Dean in all the excitement.
“Nice place you have here, Jo,” Dean said, returning her hug.
“I - ” she started. “My mom...”
“No, Jo, it’s all you this time.” He smiled at her.
“Hey Dean?” Bobby said from next to Ellen, who was beside her daughter. Dean looked up at his surrogate father. “What’s with the sunglasses?”
Dean reached up to feel that the frames were there. It made Jo smile, and Sam chuckle.
“Dim the lights, will you?” Dean asked. “There’s been some changes.”
Bobby turned off all the lights out in the hall, and most in the room, except for one in the far corner. Dean slowly took the glasses off, to show the traditional Dark-Hunter black eyes. Jo staggered backwards into her mother.
“You’re a Demon!” she accused. Dean put the dark sunglasses back on.
“Hunter. A Demon Hunter.”
“I was right!” Sam yelled.
“You’re not my Research Geek Boy for nothing, Sammy,” Dean said, and noticed Bobby was no longer in the room. After a moment though, the older man returned with a beer, and offered it to Dean.
Dean laughed, knowing what was in the bottle. He accepted the drink with a smile, and put the bottle to his lips. He was glad he’d asked Ash about the holy water, he thought, as he chugged the bottle. He swallowed, and handed the bottle back to Bobby.
“Still watering down your beer, Bobby?”
There was a tense moment when they all looked at each other, trying to take in everything that had happened.
“But you’re still Dean?” It was Sam who was the one who finally asked.
“Of course. How long have I been away?” Dean was curious.
“A little over a year,” Sam said softly. “Where were you, Dean?”
“Wow, Ash wasn’t kidding when he said time moved differently wherever I was. I was only there for a few days. Seemed like it anyway.” The last line was more to himself. Then he looked at Sam again. “It’s a long story for another time. In the meantime, how’ve you been treating my car, Sammy?”
Everyone laughed at that, and Dean smiled - a genuine Dean Winchester smile - bearing his two little fangs, another mark of a Dark-Hunter.
***
Supernatural Fan Fiction
For entertainment only
© 2008 by Caren Franco
Beta-read by Aphrodite, Bodge, Moondropz, Raloria, and StrangeVisitor. Opening excerpt from “All Hell Breaks Loose, Part II” written by Eric Kripke and Michael T. Moore. Dean, Sam and John Winchester; Bobby Singer, Ellen and Jo Harvelle; the Crossroads Demon and Hellhound’s Lair were created by Eric Kripke, Robert Singer, Kripke Enterprises Scrap Metal and Entertainment; Warner Brothers and the CW. Acheron Parthenopaeus, Simi, Artemis (this incarnation), Dark-Hunters, Daimons, and Dark-Hunter.com were created by Sherrilyn Kenyon. Yoda belongs to George Lucas. “Man on the Silver Mountain” from “Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow” by Rainbow, ©1975.
and another reminder: This is a free-for-all ’verse. As long as Supernatural canon, Dark Hunter canon, and my own canon I’ve created are observed, feel free to play in my sandbox I’ve created here. OCs are welcome, as are canon characters from either series. (all pairings are to be het in this 'verse)
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