Through The Never - BtVS/Supernatural/Angel - 3/10
Title: Through the Never
Author: twisted_slinky
Artist: sarah_jones
Crossover: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel/Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Season 6 for SPN. Post S7 for BTVS. Sam is having an out of body experience, and it seems the only person who can help him is a girl who's rather experienced in being a glowing ball of light. Sam/Dawn.
Warnings: Violence, language, innuendos, and some non-explicit sexual encounters of the het variety. Spoilers for BTVS and Angel all seasons; spoilers for SPN through season 6.
Wordcount: ~43k
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural or Angel. Written for fun, not profit.
Link to Story Masterpost: http://twisted-slinky.livejournal.com/32939.html
Link to Art Masterpost: http://sarah-jones.livejournal.com/105137.html (or see it on her website here)
Chapter 3: Club Glow-y Ball of Light
He should have done as she asked. He should have started at the beginning. But, Sam really didn't know where the beginning began, where the story of him picked up. Did it start with a fire in a nursery? Did it start with his hero selling his soul? Did it start long ago, with an absent God's plan?
Just to make sure there wasn't an easier way of doing this, he asked her if there was a TV show or book series called Supernatural in this dimension. No such luck, and that particular line of questions got him a raised brow. So, Sam dove in with the information he thought would be most relevant. The "where" part, the answer to the question she'd asked earlier, when he let the mention of the cage slip out.
His story started with Hell. It was a bad starting point, apparently, because, seconds later, he had the disorienting feeling that he was being dropped. The lid slapped down onto the curse box, leaving the orb, leaving him, in total darkness.
No, Sam figured Hell wasn't the beginning she had expected. He couldn't blame her. He'd just admitted to being a Hell escapee, and who goes to Hell? Bad people. Rotten-to-the-core souls. People who made deals with the devil. Demons who had been exorcized. Oh, and people with the last name "Winchester" apparently-because wasn't that beginning to look like a family curse? So, he couldn't blame her for freaking the hell out.
Sam really wished he had his brain, his literal brain. Because, surely, surely, he would have told her something different if he'd been himself.
'One girl in all the world can hear you, and you just scared her off. Well, done, Sammy-boy.' Yeah, Sam's inner-voice sounded a lot like Dean. Dean, who would have slapped him across the back of the head for even thinking about telling this girl-this oh-let's-invite-a-witch-over girl-the entire truth in the first place. Well, that wasn't exactly true. As far as Sam knew, his brother had never been in this exact situation, and he did have a weakness for pretty girls, so maybe Dean would have launched into his own tale. Probably would have started with something other than Hell, though.
Damn.
Before he'd screwed up, though, he'd managed to at least pick up on a few things about this dimension, The Never, and about Dawn. In the darkness, in the silence, Sam had little to do other than compile those facts, consider each and every one of them. For starters, when he was staring out of the orb, he could see the apartment, via fish-bowl-cam. Normal looking enough, if one thought the axes above the mantle were decorative or the obscure occult texts on the book shelf merely for late night D&D research. It clued him in quickly that she knew about the supernatural, but he'd been too distracted by the torn-off leaflets of the desk calendar to ask her much.
October 2005.
Only, Sam knew for a fact it was 2010 when he'd swan dived into eternity with Lucifer under his skin. Either Dawn had the really quirky habit of holding on to very old calendars, or he'd traveled back nearly five years.
No-that wasn't exactly right, either, he realized. Dimensional travel didn't have anything to do with time travel, but everything to do with time difference. So, for some reason, either this dimension was behind by a few years or the journey itself had screwed up the difference between the worlds. Of course, Sam wasn't sure how long he'd actually spent in Hell since the big jump. It was hard to keep up with the date when Lucifer was busy ripping out your ribcage and wearing it like a hat. Fun guy.
Still, even though this wasn't his world, he couldn't help but pick up on the logo over the hoodie on the end of the couch. Stanford. And even though the world passed in a kind of rush as he flew into the apartment, he was pretty sure that's where he was, Palo Alto, California. Exactly where his physical body was in October of 2005. Prepping for his future. Partying with his friends. Nearly taking his brother's head off when he broken into-God, and there was Jess. He didn't have a spine, but he felt the chill run up it just the same. This was the last month he had enjoyed with Jess.
A couple years ago, this knowledge alone would have broken him.
Sam shifted his thoughts. He couldn't be locked in here, in darkness, just thinking about what that month meant in his own dimension. This was a different world. A different Stanford. He didn't exist here-he had no evidence of this fact, but he knew it the same way he knew this place was called The Never and that angels weren't permitted to visit it. Ever. And Sam was now certain that tid-bit of knowledge was leftover from the brief time Lucifer had walked in his skin.
Crap. He hadn't even told Dawn about that part yet. About being Satan's meat suit. Cue Freak-out the Sequel. Because what kind of asshole says "yes" to the devil. It would take some explaining.
Sam really wished he could read her mind, know exactly how she was processing this information. Know that she wasn't in fact some evil being enjoying the tale. But, he couldn't. Her thoughts came at him every once in a while, as one-liners, probably just the ones she'd almost said aloud. And he could feel her emotions, too, sense them-which was the main reason he'd given over what little trust he had left.
Between what he'd picked up on, and the conversation he'd heard between the women, and the bit of dialogue he'd shared with Dawn herself, he'd reached a few conclusions, and concentrating on them seemed like a much healthier course of action that thinking about 2005 and Stanford and how damn dark it was inside a curse box…
First up, the sister. Some kind of super-powered hunter called a Slayer. And, apparently all the other slayers were female, too. Which was weird, and Jesus, he could just picture Dean's happy-dog impression if it turned out they weren't evil, just hot and deadly. Tail wagging, saliva, and all. Buffy seemed kind of tiny for a superhero, acted a little ditzy, too, but "acted" was the primary word there. Sam couldn't fully read Dawn's thoughts, but he picked up enough to know that Buffy wasn't an idiot. Fierce, strong, protective, lame, occasionally butt-headed: yeah, Dawn's thoughts were scattered, but they painted a clear enough picture for Sam. Buffy was a big sister. Enough said.
Second up, the witch. Willow. Sam figured the only way his day would get worse included the introduction of Bozo the Clown, but he was wrong. There were always witches… Only, yeah, he'd freaked out a little when she looked like she was about to lay on the mojo, but her magic had felt strange. After a big dose of Hell-time, the demonic was fresh on his mind, but her power had felt centered elsewhere. Not with a demon. In fact, it felt decidedly…neutral. And, Dawn hadn't felt anything other than love for the red-head.
Then there was Dawn herself, the girl who could hear him. When the others touched the orb, he felt like he'd been given Novocain and the dentist was repeatedly tapping him on the cheek. Numb and tingly. When Dawn picked him up, it felt…normal, like her hand was pressed against him, like the cool crystal orb to which he was confined didn't exist and he still had skin. Like he was closer to having a body with her around.
Dawn wasn't a slayer, even if all signs pointed to hunter. Sam understood that almost immediately, but he didn't think she was normal either. And that not normal bit, every time it started to surface in her mind, she'd stomp it down, as if it weren't supposed to exist. Sam knew about that emotional roller coaster, recognized it as the one he used to ride daily, after he found about the Yellow Eyed Demon and what he'd done…
Of course, there were other clues about that not-normal thing, too. Like how she mentioned she understood what it was like to be a glowing ball of light.
"Oh, or how she glows bright friggin' green, huh, college boy?" -Yeah, inner-Dean, that part, too.
Sam figured if he could breath, he'd be laughing hysterically by this point, because, yeah, the faint green glow to her skin was kinda apparent, but Sam wasn't sure what it meant. No one around her seemed to notice. And, if she was a college student, well, being radioactive might be an issue. So, Sam gave his inner-Dean his bitch face, and told himself that the green thing was due to the fact that he was staring at the world through a curve, without actual eyes, and he was sure mystical things appeared differently to other mystical things.
Because Sam didn't know what the hell she was but "mystical" fit damn well.
She's never going to open that lid.
Which was his thought right as the box shifted, and the lid slowly lifted. Dawn started down at him, her bright, wide eyes rimmed with pink. Crying, she's been crying. Sam was puzzled by the array of emotions leaking out. He reached out to her, 'What's wrong?'
Her soft palms cupped him, pulling him out of the box. The odd sensation of movement was becoming less disorienting, but it still jarred him from his thoughts.
"I'm sorry I locked you in there," she said, swallowing hard, and held him up to face level.
'It's okay. I shouldn't have started by telling you about Hell. You had every right to freak out.'
She shook her head, taking a shaky breath. "It's not that…It's just…" Her voice drifted again, looking for strength. She smiled, tried to, for the next part, as if the notion itself were silly. "I thought that part of me was gone. I thought I was normal now, with Glory gone, and, I just thought I wasn't…"
Her expression took him back; back to Azazel's death. Back to believing that, with Yellow-Eyed dead, all the psychic stuff was put to bed for good. Only it wasn't. All it took was a demonic influence, and it came flooding back again, in a new form.
'I'm sorry, Dawn.' And he meant it. He had no clue what she was talking about, but if it was anything close to…Yeah, sorry didn't cover it.
"So not your fault," she chuckled, even as a tear rolled down her cheek. "Buffy's going to have a kitten when I tell her."
Which she hadn't, Sam noted. Hadn't told anyone. Except for a lost soul she didn't know at all. Dangerous move. Then, he picked up on a thought, one that was close to surface: The Key. I'll always be…no matter what they try to make me believe.
The Key. It stirred something, some memory that wasn't his. It was there between the repeated chorus of Never, Never, Never Ever. The Key. The Key wasn't supposed to be a girl, though. Was it?
Sam went quiet, watching her. The curve of her cheek, the open pout at her lips. Sam wished he could reach out, grab hold of her so she couldn't drop him or lock him in a box again. 'Dawn, what's The Key?'
There were rules about this. Not so much written rules, but rules, nevertheless.
"Buffy's going to kill me. Kill me!" Dawn took a shallow breath, pacing the room. She spared the orb sitting on the desk beside her, safely balanced on its wooden ring, another glance before a mousey squeal-which she would never admit to making-left her mouth again. "I'm dead. See me? Dead girl walking."
'Hey, I'm pretty sure I'm still the only dead person in the room.'
"Oh, thanks, Sam. Like I needed the reminder that not only is my biggest freaking life secret out, but it's a dead man who knows it! And, apparently, I'm not being considerate enough of his delicate situation." Dawn shook her head, half hoping her brain would pull an etch-a-sketch and erase the mere memory. Because, yes, he had asked. Easy enough to stop him there. Put him in the box. Block him out. Report the breach in classified info. But is that what she did? Nope.
Nope. Nope, and now she was totally going to lose any creds she'd earned for being the "smarter" Summers because she'd let it spill. The big secret. Sure, there were lots of family secrets-most of which, apparently, Sam had already picked up on-but the BIG one, the one no person outside the slayer-inner-circle, was supposed to know, that was the one she'd told. It hadn't been all her fault. He'd picked up on some of her thoughts, picked up on the rest while she was mentally screaming at herself.
And now he knew her top-secret origin story. Why didn't she just wear a t-shirt reading: "Interested in opening dimensional doors? I'm a Key. Ask me how."
'Dawn, I get it, I really do. Just take a breath, already, okay?'
"I am breathing!" Dawn snapped. She realized, of course, that she probably looked insane, pacing the room, talking to herself. Wasn't like she hadn't done it before, only, this time, someone was actually listening to her ravings. "And death would be the better option if you turn out to be evil-seriously, the nagging I'm going to receive is going to be epic! Willow's going to be all, 'oh, Dawnie, remember when I told about my chat-room-boyfriend Moloch,' and Buffy's going to say, 'Haven't I taught you a thing? Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain'-because I swear, she's been secretly reading Harry Potter in her free time. I'd put fifty on her calling you Tom Riddle as soon as I let this slip. As if that's not bad enough, Giles-oh, God-he's going to go all British on me and tell me my brain's made of bangers and mash and call me a 'stupid, stupid, girl' like he's never made any mistakes in his life. Hel-lo? Does the name Ripper ring any bells-"
'Wow… Aaannnd you're still talking.'
"-of course, this will all be after I'm grounded for life and locked in deep dark padded basement room in Scotland, because, duh, the I'm-a-grown-woman argument isn't valid in the slayer handbook." Dawn tucked her hands under her arms to keep from wringing them. Her voice slowed down to a normal level, and she relented with a breath of air. "Jeeze. I hate when I get in trouble."
'Feel better?'
"A little. I learned to babble from the best."
'Impressive.'
"Thanks." She spared the orb a small smile and finally stopped in front of it. "Okay, so are you going to tell me why you were in Hell?"
'Nice transition there.'
Dawn felt his trepidation building and shook her head. "Oh, no, you don't. Spill. It would really be hard for me to get more freaked out right now, so best we get it over with."
'It's a long story.'
She shrugged. "I've got class in the morning. Shorten it."
Dawn recognized the sound in her head as a snort. He was snorting at her. She rolled her eyes, ready to launch back into her tirade, when he spoke up.
'Short version: there was an Apocalypse, and my brother and I were at the center of it. Lucifer rode my skin to the prom. We opened his cage in Hell, and I jumped in it with him still inside me as a last ditch effort to save the world… Sounds kind of anticlimactic when I say it that way.'
Dawn raised a brow. "Seriously?" She puckered her lips, eyes narrowed, as if she were still deciding whether or not to believe him, but a chuckle escaped, nevertheless. "Okay then."
'Okay then?'
"What am I supposed to say? Hey, Apocalypses, they suck. Granted, most of the ones we've averted haven't been quite so Book of Revelations, but, yeah. Still sucked." She cocked her head. "And, of course, I'm totally going to require more info than that if I'm going to help you, but it's a start."
'Help me?'
"Well, I've run across texts on dimensional travel before-obviously-so maybe there's something out there that can tell us exactly where you came from and how to get you back. Hopefully, there's a route that doesn't require passing back through a Hell dimension."
The orb was silent a moment, but its glow brightened, ever so slightly. Dawn knew what that was: hope. It made her smile widen.
'Dawn… I really hope you're not evil.'
"Right back at you." Dawn picked him up, rolling him into her palm. "Which, I'm obligated to go into threat time here: you sell me or my family out, try to use me for wicked Hell-opening purposes, or attempt to suck my life force out all incubus-like, I'm going to make with the smashing. My sister knows how to use a troll hammer. I know people who could store a soul so deep that you'll find yourself wishing for Hell, just for the entertainment value. And, Willow? Most badass witch in existence. Orb go poof."
'Fair enough. My turn… If try to use me to end the world or attempt to seduce me into embracing my inner Dark Side or sell me at some sort of soul black market, my brother's going to find you and cut your head off. Dimensional gap or no dimensional gap.'
Dawn nodded. "Wise man-decapitation's always a good rule of thumb. Then we're in agreement? Evil deeds equal death. Gotcha. You know what, Sam? This might just be the beginning of a really weird friendship."
The bell sound returned: laughter. 'We glowy balls of light have to stick together, after all.'
Heels clicked against the stone floor of the never-ending corridor, their pace quick and frustrating to its other occupants, that was to say, the other occupants of Hell. They stood in a line, holding their numbers, eternally bored, eternally in the agony of the between. Lilah surveyed them with a grin. She couldn't help it. Crowley had a special touch. Efficient, effective, subtle-much like Wolfram & Hart's special mock-Hell dimension, their waiting room. Lilah couldn't say she enjoyed her time there, but she could appreciate the usefulness of it from a business perspective.
"Love what you've done with the place," she noted, again.
Crowley paused beside her, a crooked grin at his lips. "See, that's what I like about you, darling. We're on the same wavelength." Wickedness sparkled in his eyes, and he turned on her, ignoring the massive number of souls beside them. "And, being as such, you probably already know what I'm thinking."
"I can use my imagination," she said, not missing the threat. "But, let's be honest, Mr. Crowley. You're not entirely unhappy to see me."
"True. This way I can skip the search party and go straight to the evisceration."
She cocked a brow. "I have news."
Crowley straightened, holding up a hand to stop her, and shot a sideways glance at the haggard souls closest to them. "It's rude to listen in," he snapped, and flicked his wrists. Their ears fell to the floor, severed from their heads. They opened their mouths to howls and found themselves choking on the ends of their own butchered tongues. "Now we can have a bit of privacy. Do go on."
She shook her head, impressed. "I must say, you have a flair for-"
"Quit kissing my ass, and tell me you have my bloody Key." He took a step closer, raising a hand to brush his fingers along the scarf around her neck. His voice was more restrained when he added. "After all, that's what you must be here about. Surely, you wouldn't be wasting my time. Since your last plan fell through, I've been stuck working with an angelic infant, and, as you can imagine, my patience is wearing thin. Speaking of which, why didn't you nab the cocky bastard while he was here?"
Lilah frowned. "Yes, we received your message about his visit, but, as it turns out, our summoners are still having problems pulling an angel out of their hats. We've decided to invoke other measures to get what we want."
His fingers tightened on the satin knot. "And where, exactly, does that leave our agreement?"
"Still in place," she managed, despite the clench at her throat. She kept her composure. "As I assured you before, this is all going to work to your favor, Mr. Crowley. In fact, our new plan of action means you're going to receive your compensation early. Sam Winchester's soul is going to prove to be useful, if we play our cards correctly."
Crowley released her, patting down the fabric and lazily pulling his hand away to rest at his side. "Well, then. That's what I like to hear." He turned to walk away, then stopped, glancing over his shoulder at her. "I'm very busy top-side these days, darling. So, next time you call me, make sure you have something a tad more substantial than an update, understand? Wouldn't want you to lose that pretty little head again, just because mean-ol' Crowley's had a bad day, would you?"
"No, sir."
READ CHAPTER 4