Author's note: Sometimes you stumble into a forum, drunk, at midnight, and you think "Jeeeesus, why can't I find a -blank- and -blank- crossover? WRITE THAT SHIT!" then you spend the evening writing that shit. Only you're not drunk, you just have a cold, you've got no good excuse for wasting a school-night, and you can't even remember what TIME you started this one-shot THING you've created. While that was a long introduction, it was nothing if not accurate, so I'm gonna roll with it.
This is going to be a series of one-shot chapters, so to speak. Because, dang it, this seems like a good idea right now, at midnight, drunk. Or rather, at midnight-thirty, totally sober but so tired and high on cough medicine that it FEELS like being drunk. This is T for language, and possibly some not-too-smutty romance.
"I would prefer if you did not point that firearm at me."
Scully stood very still, frozen in the momentary panic of his arrival. The stranger stared back down her gun through wide and unafraid eyes. A slight scowl hovered on his brow, below unkempt brown hair.
Admittedly, the run-down strip hotel with fifty rooms and only five cars in the parking lot had put her on edge since their arrival, but she'd recalled the doors squeaking slightly as she'd entered. Now her handgun shook ever so slightly as one of the brothers, she thought it was Dean, raised his hands and stepped forward with exaggerated slowness.
"Woah-woah-woah, guys. He's a friend. Just put the gun down..." Dean's eyebrows rose slowly as he motioned for her to lower the weapon, and despite a wave of frustration at the man's painfully condescending manner, she slowly lowered her hands and the gun.
"I'm sorry, I'm not used to people just appearing on me." She narrowed her eyes as she holstered the 'firearm', trying to regain composure.
"I apologize." The newcomer stepped closer to her, looking at her, no, staring at her with liquid blue eyes, "I did not mean to startle you with my arrival. I was unaware that anyone but Dean and Sam would be here."
She nodded, accepting his apology without expression. She'd be damned if she was going to apologize for drawing her gun on a man who'd seemingly teleported into the room just behind her during this, or for that matter any, investigation.
The tall brother, Sam she supposed, stood. "Cas, not that we don't love it when you just drop in, but why are you here?"
The newcomer broke the lock his eyes had held on Scully, turning to the brothers, "I have news about what killed the families in Oakland. I believe it was an angel."
Well, thought Scully, at least he was to the point. She raised one eyebrow ever so slightly, looking at Mulder from the corner of her eye, "Mulder, maybe we ought to come back later, when the Winchester's aren't expecting company."
Dean shook his head, "No, this will only take a second. Cas, would you come talk to Sam and me in the other room?"
As the three shuffled into the bathroom with many a backward glance (and what Scully thought was a mutter of "But this will take more then a second, it will take several seconds"), Scully turned on one heel to face Mulder. His sheepish smile was already firmly in place to combat her raised eyebrows of skepticism. She shook her head, "Angels, Mulder? Tell me again, where did you find these guys?"
Mulder only jammed his hands into his pockets and shrugged, "They seem to attract the weird and out-of-the-ordinary. These brothers are using aliases, but they seem to have been present at over twenty sites with unexplained phenomena." As she turned and sighed he sped up his speech, walking across the room to flip open a file under a flickering lamp, "If these two aren't a cause of the kind of phenomena we investigate, they at least are somehow able to find them. Just think Scully, what we could do with another pair of eyes to look out for situations that qualify as x-files."
"We've tried this before, we have a battery of fake-UFO chasers and people who see faeries."
"What if, though, these guys are actually onto something? What if they chase real UFOs? Isn't it worth the time to talk to them if their track record is so consistent?" He held the file out for her to read. .
"But," she perused the file, "It looks like we never confirmed any of these cases were in fact x-files. Just weirdness in small towns, and lots of bodies. For all we know they could just be, I don't know, hopped up religious nuts killing people who they think are demons. Or angels..."
"Well don't you think, since we're here, we ought to at least find out if they're psycho-killers or not?" The enthusiasm in his smile almost melted her to the point of smiling, but not quite.
"You know you shouldn't smile when saying psycho-killer. It makes you seem unbalanced." She closed the folder and pressed it against Mulder's chest, about to berate him before agreeing, when the two brothers came out of the bathroom together projecting wide-eyed innocence.
Dean looked at the folder then smiled in what he probably thought was a charming way at her, "Little light reading?" Scully scowled and let go of the folder.
"No, just reviewing those Oakland killings." Mulder smiled, trying to diffuse the tense moment. "Where's your friend?"
Sam looked to Dean, who continued to smile at the now openly scowling woman, "He left through the window. Doesn't like cops. But he gave us a lead about the murders, a warehouse near the bay. Since we can't seem to shake you, would you be interested in tagging along?"
Scully simply pulled the keys to the rental car from her coat pocket and opened the door.
"I suppose that's a 'yes'," Mulder smiled at the brothers.