(Leverage/SPN) Dean's Girl for xover_exchange
Title: Dean’s Girl
Author: luc_darling
Fandoms: Leverage/Supernatural
Characters Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester; Parker, Sophie Deveraux, Eliot Spencer
Pairings: none, it’s gen
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 2531
Spoilers: Set during early Season 1 of both Leverage and Supernatural
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: Leverage and Supernatural belong to their respective creators. The character of David Colman is my own creation, based on no individual in particular.
A/N: A heap of thanks to my beta robinyj for being so understanding and making my half-thought out ideas make sense.
Summary: While hunting a harpy in Boston, Dean Winchester runs across a most unusual ghost - a blonde who has a habit of disappearing off tall buildings.
Dean sighs as he leans back against the skylight, trying not to think about how high up he is. His watch reads 2:50AM and the concrete that he’s sitting on is getting his ass damp. He bites back another sigh and scans the rooftops around him. There’s nothing here. It’s obvious Sam’s pinpointed the wrong part of town that the harpy will appear in - Boston is a fairly big city after all, Dean figures.
Then a shadow moves on the rooftop two buildings over.
Dean’s eyes focus on the shadow, watching it back up a few paces before taking off towards the edge. He realizes it’s a person as they (she, he amends mentally. The long blonde hair streaming out behind the person being a dead giveaway) fall over the edge silently. He stands, rushing to the roof access door and jumping down the flights of stairs in his haste to get outside.
He sprints across the lobby, ignoring the night security guard’s surprised shout as he runs into the street. Dean runs down the sidewalk, eyes darting all over the lamp-lit avenue for a woman’s body. When he’s gone six buildings down, just in case he’s miscalculated the distance between their roofs, he doubles back at a slower pace.
There’s no body in sight.
There’s not even screaming, like he’d suspect there would be if a body suddenly fell from the sky. While the street isn’t teeming with people as it does in the daylight, it’s not exactly empty. A homeless man watches Dean pace beneath the lamp, hands raking through his short hair in an angry gesture. He grins, gaps prevalent in his smile as the hunter walks over.
“So, you saw her too?” He grins again, pulling his dirty coat tighter as a breeze blows down the street. Dean steps closer, green eyes narrowed.
“You saw the hot blond chick? Where did she... How long-” He breaks off, brow knitting together. The older man cackles at the clear confusion.
“You know how there are things you can’t explain, boy?” Dean nods at the question. He definitely has a better knowledge of what exactly goes bump in the night than this man who probably lives in alleys. “That girl just might be one of ‘em. I’ve seen her at the top of different buildings, but the taller they are, the better. She jumps-”
“-and disappears.” Dean finishes quietly. The old man chuckles and ambles down the street as Dean leans against the brick, mind churning. Perhaps the woman was pushed to her death and she replays it in hopes someone can save her, but that wouldn’t explain why she switches from building to building. In Dean’s experience, ghosts are usually tied to a certain object. The hobo had said she liked the tallest buildings in the city: maybe she’d been a thrill-seeker and this was a recreation of an adrenaline rush gone wrong. He pushed off from the wall and headed back towards the Impala. Sam would want to hear about this.
****
It took a half-hour to explain that no, Dean wasn’t just trying to get out of hunting down the harpy, though the older hunter would be lying that it wasn't a fringe benefit of having the gorgeous blonde ghost appear. While Dean was ecstatic Sam had volunteered to research all the deaths by jumping that had taken place in the past 20 years, it meant the job of tracking down the homeless guy from earlier was left to him. So Dean drove around the city of Boston, laughing as he spied the high school boys in the pizza parlor. Jaws dropped open as they looked at his baby with no small amount of envy in their eyes. He grinned as he entered the haven of dough and marinara.
Twenty minutes later saw the hunter carrying a pizza box out the door, leaving his baby in the parking lot. Paying the kids to watch the Impala had been a worthwhile use of a fifty. He headed towards the homeless shelter, grease dripping down his fingers as he devoured the slice.
Dean slid into the seat across from the checker-capped man from the night before, drumming his fingers on the table impatiently. The man savored each bite before finally looking up as he slurped the last of his drink.
“How often have you seen her?” Dean cut to the heart of the matter. “What buildings has she been on most often?” Sam had a theory that the woman had some sort of connection with multiple buildings in the city proper, which was why she wasn’t tied down to a specific one in particular.
The man opened his mouth, and then closed it again as he thought. “Like I said last night, she likes the tallest buildings. I’d say if they’re in the financial district, she’ll have been there. She has an affinity for banks for some reason. Maybe she was a clerk in one that got held up?” He didn’t even appear perturbed by the possibility she was a ghost as Dean pursed his lips in thought.
“You’re not bothered by the fact that she might be-” Dean lowered his voice and shifted closer before finishing the sentence, “-a ghost?” His tone was incredulous but the man only chuckled.
“Son, I saw things overseas that would make your head spin. I got schooled real fast in the fact that there are things we just plain don’t know ‘bout.” The homeless man wiped his hand on his pants before he stuck it out. “David Colman.”
“Robert Young.” Dean introduced himself, shaking David’s hand. The older man raised an eyebrow, but said nothing at the name.
“All right Robert, what are you supposing to do about your little female problem?”
Dean gave it some thought before deciding to trust the man. He seemed smart enough to know that if he discussed what exactly Dean and he had in common, it would get him a one-way ticket to a nuthouse. “I need to find out when and how she died, since she does that disappearing trick so nicely.” He figured Sam didn’t need to be brought into this, just in case things went south regarding David. “Then it’s a simple salt ‘n burn with the remains and the problem’s taken care of. Let’s go to the library.”
The two stood from the table, Dean leading the way back into the autumn weather. It didn’t take long to reach the Impala and the hunter grinned as David made appreciative noises. They both climbed in, the guitar runs of Robert Plant heralding their arrival to the public library.
Dean charmed the librarian at the front desk, a white-haired lady who called the hunter and his new partner ‘cute young things’. She showed them to the newspaper archives in the basement; David sat at the computer to begin narrowing down their search as Dean pulled the physical copies from the shelves and began skimming the obituaries.
****
Sam rubbed at his eyes wearily. He’d been going through obituaries and police reports all afternoon - he really loved the Freedom of Information Act and the fact that he could still pass for an undergrad; it made requesting otherwise odd things much easier. No-one fitting Dean’s description of “skinny, hot with blonde hair” had shown up in any of the records. He turned to the Internet since people tended to blog about some pretty weird things; perhaps this ghost had been talked about.
Two and half hours later, he hit a goldmine. Someone who had a brush with the paranormal had begun a forum to talk about his experience and have others share what had happened with them. Sam idly wondered if any of the people he and Dean helped had found their way to this website. He scrolled through the threads, his eye catching on one entitled “Boston Blonde”. Four pages detailed where she appeared and how, once she jumped, was never seen again. Sam wrote down the buildings and dates, plotting the points on a map of downtown Boston.
They all had to do with banks or financial centers, the youngest Winchester noted. He drew his pen across the map, connecting the points. His eyes widened as he saw the pattern and he peered closer at the paper, noting the address. One Federal Street was probably where she would jump from next.
He tried to call Dean, but it went to voicemail all four times. Sam stood from the little desk, stretching his legs out. He figured it was at least worth checking out.
****
Dean parked the muscle car in the shadows of the cemetery’s parking lot. David joined him at the Impala’s trunk and the hunter thought quickly.
“Hey David,” he handed the man a flashlight. “Why don’t you go find Betty’s grave while I get the shovels?” David’s answering grin was bright in the darkness closing in around them. He set off towards the archway entrance, hopping over the fence that was more for decoration than anything. Dean quickly popped the trunk, gathering the duffel he and Sam had for ghost hunts. He followed the homeless man into the shadows that housed the remains of the community’s loved ones. He let loose a low whistle when he found the grave of one Betty DuPont, a blond adrenaline junkie who had missed the net when she jumped off the Federal Reserve Building in 1978. After he and David read about her previous exploits involving other high-rise buildings in Boston, the two knew they had their ghost.
David came out of the shadows to his right. “How did you find it so fast? I was still looking in the listing up front!”
Dean chuckled quietly, “I’ve had way too much experience with finding dead things, David.”
The hunter handed him a shovel and dug his into the earth beneath his feet. Luckily, Boston hadn’t reached freezing temperatures yet so the ground was still soft. David dug into the soil a foot above and the two began making a pile of loose dirt.
Forty-five minutes later, covered in sweat, Dean’s shovel hit something. He broke the wooden top of the coffin with his shovel, splintering it until the woman’s remains were exposed to the night air. David let loose a ragged cheer and hoisted himself out of the hole at Dean’s gesture. The green-eyed man followed him up, lifting a large canister of salt from the duffel bag. David watched with rapt attention as Dean shook salt over the bones, then a large amount of lighter fluid.
The son of John Winchester remained wary as he lit the match and threw it into the hole. His eyes scanned the surroundings as what was left of the corpse burned into ash. There was no paranormal retaliation for this act, which was odd. Dean didn’t let his musings be known to David and quickly gathered up what they’d brought. The two trekked back to the Impala, David quietly enthusing about the night’s actions.
****
Sam didn’t move as the woman walked closer to his hiding place on the roof. He’d admit, crouching behind an air vent was not the best choice, but it’s not like he had a lot of options all the way up here.
The light from the moon highlighted what little skin the woman revealed. She was dressed in black from head to toe, knit ski cap hiding her presumably blonde hair. Not seeming to notice Sam as he peeked over the cold metal, she picked up a tangle of jangling metal and straps. In under a minute, she had strapped a harness to her body. He muffled a laugh behind his hand at Dean’s mistake and her head swiveled in his direction. Footsteps crunched on the gravel before they stopped as a door banged open.
“Let’s just do this, all right?” A woman’s British-accented voice broke the silence. “I left my very warm bed to learn how to jump off a building, for which I am going to do a grave injury to Nate.”
The mysterious woman hushed her quickly as Sam peeked over the vent again.
“Honestly Parker, it’s not as if there is anyone around to hear us!” The second woman scoffed and Sam bit his tongue. He watched as the shorter woman buckled a harness around the older newcomer, tugging on the straps with a firm nod. Parker pulled the other woman to the edge of the building, practically dancing to the half wall. She climbed up on it with no hesitation, unlike her partner who crouched with one hand holding tightly to the edge that was on the roof’s side.
“Okay, go!” Parker whispered loudly, using a hand to push the other woman from her precarious perch. She jumped after her noiselessly to the sounds of the other’s cry of surprise.
Sam ran to the edge of the building, peering down after them. The two women swung, suspended about halfway down the building. As the youngest Winchester watched, Dean’s “ghost” cut a hole into the window and dived through. The other woman followed her move more slowly and Sam stepped away from the edge, shaking his head with amusement.
As Sam exited the building, an arm shot out to clamp around his wrist. He jerked in the tight grip, but was shoved unceremoniously against the brick wall. A man’s deep voice spoke, Southern drawl coloring the consequences of following the two women again. Sam nodded at the low growl, because he certainly didn’t intend to make a habit of spying on thieves. There was another hard shake that rattled his head, and then the hands and voice faded into the night.
Sam whirled around, trying to catch a glimpse of his attacker before giving up. He walked back to the motel; grateful it wasn’t completely on the other side of town. The Impala was parked in front of the door to his and Dean’s room and his gait slowed to a stop as he considered his options. Should he go with the truth on this or just say he’d been out late - it’s not like Dean would question the latter. Sam slid his key into the door and his eyes fell on the duffel bag that they used for salt and burn jobs. Well, at least he knew what Dean had done with his night, eyes following the trail of dirt-encrusted clothes to the closed bathroom door.
The youngest Winchester sat on his bed, beginning the process of untying and loosening his boots so they could be toed off. The water turned off with a squeak and Dean exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam.
“Hey there Sammy!” Dean was practically crowing. “Hope you weren’t out doing more research ‘cause that hot blonde is ashes now.”
Sam laid back and listened intently as his older brother told him of his night and how he and his new friend had dug up a grave and taken care of the ghost by themselves. He smiled to himself when Dean turned his back to get dressed; there was no way he could bear to ruin Dean’s good mood.
-END-
Prompt:
Dean sees Parker jump off a rooftop, but when he can't find her body below, he assumes she's a ghost.
Author: luc_darling
Fandoms: Leverage/Supernatural
Characters Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester; Parker, Sophie Deveraux, Eliot Spencer
Pairings: none, it’s gen
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 2531
Spoilers: Set during early Season 1 of both Leverage and Supernatural
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: Leverage and Supernatural belong to their respective creators. The character of David Colman is my own creation, based on no individual in particular.
A/N: A heap of thanks to my beta robinyj for being so understanding and making my half-thought out ideas make sense.
Summary: While hunting a harpy in Boston, Dean Winchester runs across a most unusual ghost - a blonde who has a habit of disappearing off tall buildings.
Dean sighs as he leans back against the skylight, trying not to think about how high up he is. His watch reads 2:50AM and the concrete that he’s sitting on is getting his ass damp. He bites back another sigh and scans the rooftops around him. There’s nothing here. It’s obvious Sam’s pinpointed the wrong part of town that the harpy will appear in - Boston is a fairly big city after all, Dean figures.
Then a shadow moves on the rooftop two buildings over.
Dean’s eyes focus on the shadow, watching it back up a few paces before taking off towards the edge. He realizes it’s a person as they (she, he amends mentally. The long blonde hair streaming out behind the person being a dead giveaway) fall over the edge silently. He stands, rushing to the roof access door and jumping down the flights of stairs in his haste to get outside.
He sprints across the lobby, ignoring the night security guard’s surprised shout as he runs into the street. Dean runs down the sidewalk, eyes darting all over the lamp-lit avenue for a woman’s body. When he’s gone six buildings down, just in case he’s miscalculated the distance between their roofs, he doubles back at a slower pace.
There’s no body in sight.
There’s not even screaming, like he’d suspect there would be if a body suddenly fell from the sky. While the street isn’t teeming with people as it does in the daylight, it’s not exactly empty. A homeless man watches Dean pace beneath the lamp, hands raking through his short hair in an angry gesture. He grins, gaps prevalent in his smile as the hunter walks over.
“So, you saw her too?” He grins again, pulling his dirty coat tighter as a breeze blows down the street. Dean steps closer, green eyes narrowed.
“You saw the hot blond chick? Where did she... How long-” He breaks off, brow knitting together. The older man cackles at the clear confusion.
“You know how there are things you can’t explain, boy?” Dean nods at the question. He definitely has a better knowledge of what exactly goes bump in the night than this man who probably lives in alleys. “That girl just might be one of ‘em. I’ve seen her at the top of different buildings, but the taller they are, the better. She jumps-”
“-and disappears.” Dean finishes quietly. The old man chuckles and ambles down the street as Dean leans against the brick, mind churning. Perhaps the woman was pushed to her death and she replays it in hopes someone can save her, but that wouldn’t explain why she switches from building to building. In Dean’s experience, ghosts are usually tied to a certain object. The hobo had said she liked the tallest buildings in the city: maybe she’d been a thrill-seeker and this was a recreation of an adrenaline rush gone wrong. He pushed off from the wall and headed back towards the Impala. Sam would want to hear about this.
****
It took a half-hour to explain that no, Dean wasn’t just trying to get out of hunting down the harpy, though the older hunter would be lying that it wasn't a fringe benefit of having the gorgeous blonde ghost appear. While Dean was ecstatic Sam had volunteered to research all the deaths by jumping that had taken place in the past 20 years, it meant the job of tracking down the homeless guy from earlier was left to him. So Dean drove around the city of Boston, laughing as he spied the high school boys in the pizza parlor. Jaws dropped open as they looked at his baby with no small amount of envy in their eyes. He grinned as he entered the haven of dough and marinara.
Twenty minutes later saw the hunter carrying a pizza box out the door, leaving his baby in the parking lot. Paying the kids to watch the Impala had been a worthwhile use of a fifty. He headed towards the homeless shelter, grease dripping down his fingers as he devoured the slice.
Dean slid into the seat across from the checker-capped man from the night before, drumming his fingers on the table impatiently. The man savored each bite before finally looking up as he slurped the last of his drink.
“How often have you seen her?” Dean cut to the heart of the matter. “What buildings has she been on most often?” Sam had a theory that the woman had some sort of connection with multiple buildings in the city proper, which was why she wasn’t tied down to a specific one in particular.
The man opened his mouth, and then closed it again as he thought. “Like I said last night, she likes the tallest buildings. I’d say if they’re in the financial district, she’ll have been there. She has an affinity for banks for some reason. Maybe she was a clerk in one that got held up?” He didn’t even appear perturbed by the possibility she was a ghost as Dean pursed his lips in thought.
“You’re not bothered by the fact that she might be-” Dean lowered his voice and shifted closer before finishing the sentence, “-a ghost?” His tone was incredulous but the man only chuckled.
“Son, I saw things overseas that would make your head spin. I got schooled real fast in the fact that there are things we just plain don’t know ‘bout.” The homeless man wiped his hand on his pants before he stuck it out. “David Colman.”
“Robert Young.” Dean introduced himself, shaking David’s hand. The older man raised an eyebrow, but said nothing at the name.
“All right Robert, what are you supposing to do about your little female problem?”
Dean gave it some thought before deciding to trust the man. He seemed smart enough to know that if he discussed what exactly Dean and he had in common, it would get him a one-way ticket to a nuthouse. “I need to find out when and how she died, since she does that disappearing trick so nicely.” He figured Sam didn’t need to be brought into this, just in case things went south regarding David. “Then it’s a simple salt ‘n burn with the remains and the problem’s taken care of. Let’s go to the library.”
The two stood from the table, Dean leading the way back into the autumn weather. It didn’t take long to reach the Impala and the hunter grinned as David made appreciative noises. They both climbed in, the guitar runs of Robert Plant heralding their arrival to the public library.
Dean charmed the librarian at the front desk, a white-haired lady who called the hunter and his new partner ‘cute young things’. She showed them to the newspaper archives in the basement; David sat at the computer to begin narrowing down their search as Dean pulled the physical copies from the shelves and began skimming the obituaries.
****
Sam rubbed at his eyes wearily. He’d been going through obituaries and police reports all afternoon - he really loved the Freedom of Information Act and the fact that he could still pass for an undergrad; it made requesting otherwise odd things much easier. No-one fitting Dean’s description of “skinny, hot with blonde hair” had shown up in any of the records. He turned to the Internet since people tended to blog about some pretty weird things; perhaps this ghost had been talked about.
Two and half hours later, he hit a goldmine. Someone who had a brush with the paranormal had begun a forum to talk about his experience and have others share what had happened with them. Sam idly wondered if any of the people he and Dean helped had found their way to this website. He scrolled through the threads, his eye catching on one entitled “Boston Blonde”. Four pages detailed where she appeared and how, once she jumped, was never seen again. Sam wrote down the buildings and dates, plotting the points on a map of downtown Boston.
They all had to do with banks or financial centers, the youngest Winchester noted. He drew his pen across the map, connecting the points. His eyes widened as he saw the pattern and he peered closer at the paper, noting the address. One Federal Street was probably where she would jump from next.
He tried to call Dean, but it went to voicemail all four times. Sam stood from the little desk, stretching his legs out. He figured it was at least worth checking out.
****
Dean parked the muscle car in the shadows of the cemetery’s parking lot. David joined him at the Impala’s trunk and the hunter thought quickly.
“Hey David,” he handed the man a flashlight. “Why don’t you go find Betty’s grave while I get the shovels?” David’s answering grin was bright in the darkness closing in around them. He set off towards the archway entrance, hopping over the fence that was more for decoration than anything. Dean quickly popped the trunk, gathering the duffel he and Sam had for ghost hunts. He followed the homeless man into the shadows that housed the remains of the community’s loved ones. He let loose a low whistle when he found the grave of one Betty DuPont, a blond adrenaline junkie who had missed the net when she jumped off the Federal Reserve Building in 1978. After he and David read about her previous exploits involving other high-rise buildings in Boston, the two knew they had their ghost.
David came out of the shadows to his right. “How did you find it so fast? I was still looking in the listing up front!”
Dean chuckled quietly, “I’ve had way too much experience with finding dead things, David.”
The hunter handed him a shovel and dug his into the earth beneath his feet. Luckily, Boston hadn’t reached freezing temperatures yet so the ground was still soft. David dug into the soil a foot above and the two began making a pile of loose dirt.
Forty-five minutes later, covered in sweat, Dean’s shovel hit something. He broke the wooden top of the coffin with his shovel, splintering it until the woman’s remains were exposed to the night air. David let loose a ragged cheer and hoisted himself out of the hole at Dean’s gesture. The green-eyed man followed him up, lifting a large canister of salt from the duffel bag. David watched with rapt attention as Dean shook salt over the bones, then a large amount of lighter fluid.
The son of John Winchester remained wary as he lit the match and threw it into the hole. His eyes scanned the surroundings as what was left of the corpse burned into ash. There was no paranormal retaliation for this act, which was odd. Dean didn’t let his musings be known to David and quickly gathered up what they’d brought. The two trekked back to the Impala, David quietly enthusing about the night’s actions.
****
Sam didn’t move as the woman walked closer to his hiding place on the roof. He’d admit, crouching behind an air vent was not the best choice, but it’s not like he had a lot of options all the way up here.
The light from the moon highlighted what little skin the woman revealed. She was dressed in black from head to toe, knit ski cap hiding her presumably blonde hair. Not seeming to notice Sam as he peeked over the cold metal, she picked up a tangle of jangling metal and straps. In under a minute, she had strapped a harness to her body. He muffled a laugh behind his hand at Dean’s mistake and her head swiveled in his direction. Footsteps crunched on the gravel before they stopped as a door banged open.
“Let’s just do this, all right?” A woman’s British-accented voice broke the silence. “I left my very warm bed to learn how to jump off a building, for which I am going to do a grave injury to Nate.”
The mysterious woman hushed her quickly as Sam peeked over the vent again.
“Honestly Parker, it’s not as if there is anyone around to hear us!” The second woman scoffed and Sam bit his tongue. He watched as the shorter woman buckled a harness around the older newcomer, tugging on the straps with a firm nod. Parker pulled the other woman to the edge of the building, practically dancing to the half wall. She climbed up on it with no hesitation, unlike her partner who crouched with one hand holding tightly to the edge that was on the roof’s side.
“Okay, go!” Parker whispered loudly, using a hand to push the other woman from her precarious perch. She jumped after her noiselessly to the sounds of the other’s cry of surprise.
Sam ran to the edge of the building, peering down after them. The two women swung, suspended about halfway down the building. As the youngest Winchester watched, Dean’s “ghost” cut a hole into the window and dived through. The other woman followed her move more slowly and Sam stepped away from the edge, shaking his head with amusement.
As Sam exited the building, an arm shot out to clamp around his wrist. He jerked in the tight grip, but was shoved unceremoniously against the brick wall. A man’s deep voice spoke, Southern drawl coloring the consequences of following the two women again. Sam nodded at the low growl, because he certainly didn’t intend to make a habit of spying on thieves. There was another hard shake that rattled his head, and then the hands and voice faded into the night.
Sam whirled around, trying to catch a glimpse of his attacker before giving up. He walked back to the motel; grateful it wasn’t completely on the other side of town. The Impala was parked in front of the door to his and Dean’s room and his gait slowed to a stop as he considered his options. Should he go with the truth on this or just say he’d been out late - it’s not like Dean would question the latter. Sam slid his key into the door and his eyes fell on the duffel bag that they used for salt and burn jobs. Well, at least he knew what Dean had done with his night, eyes following the trail of dirt-encrusted clothes to the closed bathroom door.
The youngest Winchester sat on his bed, beginning the process of untying and loosening his boots so they could be toed off. The water turned off with a squeak and Dean exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam.
“Hey there Sammy!” Dean was practically crowing. “Hope you weren’t out doing more research ‘cause that hot blonde is ashes now.”
Sam laid back and listened intently as his older brother told him of his night and how he and his new friend had dug up a grave and taken care of the ghost by themselves. He smiled to himself when Dean turned his back to get dressed; there was no way he could bear to ruin Dean’s good mood.
-END-
Prompt:
Dean sees Parker jump off a rooftop, but when he can't find her body below, he assumes she's a ghost.