Supernatural and Highlander crossover, because I just got bitten in the freaking ass by a plot bunny.
Title: In Losing One's Self (1?)
Author: whisp
Fandoms: Supernatural and Highlander
Summary: Sam and Dean have got a new case. A series of beheadings in Seacouver.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine. Please don't sue.
Notes: Got completely blindsided by this idea, and 6 pages later, I've got most of the plot written out. We'll see where this goes.
Highlander and Supernatural, because damn, why didn't anyone think of this before. (If someone has, can you leave a link please? I would love to read it.)
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Early morning saw Sam and Dean camped out at a diner in the middle of nowhere. Sprawled across the seat, Dean had his coffee in one hand, and his other arm slung across the top of the booth. A pair of sunglasses were perched neatly on his nose, in deference to the early hour sunshine coming in the window.
Across from him, Sam was hunched over his laptop, a small crease in his brow as he scrolled through websites. By the way he's gnawing on his lower lip, Dean can tell he's caught on to something. So he's content to leave Sam alone, only prodding him once in a while to eat a little breakfast, before it grows completely cold.
Living in California had turned Sam into one of those health nuts, so eating his brother's food isn't as much fun as it used to be back when they were kids, but that didn't stop Dean from picking off bits of Sam's breakfast when he wasn't looking. It's not like Sam was going to eat all of it. He'd study straight through the day if left to his own devices. Dean loved his brother, but damned if he'll ever understand him.
Decidedly bored, Dean tried to look out the diner window, but most of it's been covered over with some artsy crap declaring the name "Diner" in bold letters. Dean snorted back a laugh. Creative people they've got here. How they end up in these backwards places, he'll never know.
Having finally had enough, Dean kicked Sam under the table. "So what'd we got?"
Shooting his brother an annoyed glare, but otherwise largely ignoring the contact, Sam replied, "Homicides, lots in the past few weeks, all taking place within an area only a few blocks wide."
Dean shrugged, "So?"
"Well, it says here, each victim was decapitated with a single clean stroke to the neck. Whatever did it had to be carrying a long, sharp blade and had to possess an inordinate amount of upper body strength to cut like that."
"Wait a minute." Dean gaped incredulously at Sam and said, "You're telling me that these people got beheaded by some freak with a sword? Who the hell carries one of those around anymore?"
Sam raised his eyebrows, "Um... us?"
Dean smacked Sam lightly on the head, "Smartass." But he conceded, "Ok, so maybe there are some sword-wielding psychos out there. Seems more like something for the police to deal with. Or the psychiatric ward."
Sam shook his head turning his laptop around to face Dean. "That's what I thought too, but then I dug a little deeper." With his cursor, he highlighted a passage of the article "Turns out, at the same time all the beheading were suppose to take place, there are reports of a freak electrical storm in the exact same area. And if you look back, it says in the police reports that the places where the bodies were found had scorch marks on the walls and floor."
Interested piqued, Dean set down his coffee and leaned in, elbows propped up on the table. He nodded a head at the open book off to the side, "Find anything in Dad's journal?"
Sam nodded, "Yeah, he has a long list of these beheadings. They take place in just about every state, and even some in Canada and overseas. They're more frequently in crowded areas, but that's about it for connections. No common people, no specific times; there's nothing to indicate any sort of pattern, nothing that Dad could find anyways." Sam flipped through a few pages, scanning quickly, "These reports are all from years ago, back when we were kids. There's nothing recent."
"So you think maybe it stopped for a while, and now it's active again?"
"Well, whatever it is, there's more than one of them. Even if this thing does run in cycles, it's never stopped completely. If you look at the dates in Dad's journal, it seems to intensify its activity ever few years, then back off for a while, but it never stops completely. I bet if we dug around the police reports, we'd find at least a couple of cases every year."
Pausing, Sam squinted close to the journal, fingers brushing over the bindings. "That's weird... Looks like some pages have been ripped out. Edges haven't dulled too much, it was pretty recently."
"What!" Dean exclaimed, yanking the journal across the table. "I knew I couldn't trust you with that. I thought you stopped eating paper when you were four, Sam."
Sam rolled his eyes, "Funny, Dean. And it's not that recent, it looks like Dad might have done it."
"Yeah right. Dad voluntarily defacing his journal? Remember the time I let you use it as a colouring book?" Dean shook his head fondly, "Man, I thought he was going to skin me alive."
"Well the pages aren't here, so unless they're at the bottom of that rat's nest that you call the trunk, we don't have them. So any bright ideas about what could have done this?"
Dean shrugged, "Demon possession? Angry spirit? One of those really weird cult things? Is there any thing else we can go on?"
"The last thing Dad put in the journal was about a rash of killings in the mid 90s back in Seacover, and a name connected to them - Duncan Macleod. Seems he was a suspect for a few of them, but they could never pin anything on him."
"Any way we can get a hold of him?"
Sam shook his head, eyes still scanning the screen. "No can do, I ran his name, he died a few months ago. Cause of death-" Sam looked pointedly at Dean, "beheading."
"You believe in coincidences?"
Sam snorted, "About as much as I believe in your research skills."
"Ha, ha Sammy. I don't see you doing much better. What'd you got besides dead ends?"
"Well, there's another name connected to Macleod's, some guy named Adam Pierson. He witnessed a sword fight between two men, one of them being Macleod. I tracked him down, and currently, he's a staff member in the faculty of linguistics at a University in Seacouver, Washington."
"That's only a couple of hours from here," remarked Dean. He stood, sweeping up his jacket from the back of his chair. "Good job little bro." Then much to Sam's annoyance, Dean ruffled Sam's hair before he strolled out declaring, "Time to hit the road."
End part 1