Title: I'll Take My Chances Here An' Now
Authors: h4ppy_fun_b4ll/Karu Leonnese
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, a few spoilery pairings later on.
Rating: PG-13 to R-ish. Nothing too bad.
Word Count: (93,000 total)
Warnings: Complete AU. Language, violence an' a few gratuitious makeouts. All in a day's work.
Disclaimer: Nothing's mine except the plot. An' with all the references, even that's debatable at times.
Summary: It's about the important things. To think for yourself. To feel for yourself. To believe in yourself. To find yourself a home. Stranded in the middle of nowhere, Dean gets some advice: There's a psychic named Chuck who lives in a castle. He can send you home. Because they're definitely not in Kansas anymore.
Notes: So...this is it. After taking up the challenge of writing my first SPN fic as a Camp NaNoWriMo project, I spent a month on this monstrocity. It's officially the longest thing I've ever written, an' pretty much deviated from my main point of being a parody. Whoops. Anyway, like I said, this is my first try with any of these guys, aside from a few loose RPs. So any kind of feedback or crit is appreciated muchly!
Soundtrack can be downloaded on LJ. h4ppy_fun_b4ll . livejournal . com / 772 . html (taking out all spaces, of course )
Chapter One: Welcome to the Suck ((Thomas Newman))
Our story begins in Kansas. A normal, everyday town, with normal, everyday people, doing normal, everyday things.
"If you don't hurry up this thing's gonna crack your damn skull open!"
Alright, so maybe that's a bit of a stretch.
The story starts in Kansas. That much is true. But it shouldn't be called normal by any means. In fact, the word normal probably shouldn't even be used anywhere near this story. But digression aside, it'd probably be best to get back to the story, before someone's skull gets cracked open.
That someone would be Sam Winchester, who currently had his arm shoulder- deep in a hole in the wall of an abandoned log cabin on the outskirts of a small town. Squirming, he tried to get closer, his fingers brushing just shy of the metal box he was trying to grab hold of. The box belonged to a rather angry spirit of a man who was pretty handy with an axe, even as a ghost.
Across the room, sparing a moment to reload a shotgun with salt- packed rounds, Dean cursed, taking a shot as the spirit tried once more to separate his brother's head from his body. "Would you hurry up already?"
Sam pushed forward, fingers sliding over the metal corner before dragging it close enough to get a grip. "Got it!"
"About damned time!" Another shot fired. "I'd have thought with those long arms of yours, reaching things wouldn't be a problem!"
Sam ignored his brother in favor of opening the box. Inside were stacks of letters, old and yellowed. One of them contained a lock of hair belonging to their violent spirit. Rather than waste time finding it in the stack, the younger sibling fumbled in his jacket pocket for the book of matches and salt packets he'd stashed there.
He ripped open the packets, shaking the salt into the box. But before he got a chance to light it up, something whirled past his head. Ducking on impulse, he narrowly missed the axe aimed his way before Dean got another shot off at the thing.
It was Sam's turn to curse, shooting Dean a glare. "Cutting it close much?"
"Just shut up and light the thing up!"
He didn't need any more urging. Striking up the match, he tossed it in the box, sending the old letters into flames. The spirit wasted no time in burning up in the same way. Threat neutralized, Sam slumped against the broken wall of the ghost's abandoned home, attempting to catch his breath.
Dean just grinned, leaning against the doorway. "Another day in Paradise."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Let's just get home already."
Home was about an hour's drive away. Closer than usual for their cases, seeing as though most of the cases within their own city limits had been long since taken care of. If not by the brothers themselves, then by their father. Usually before they had even been born. The Winchester family had been hunting the supernatural for as long back as anyone could remember. It was in their blood, as John had told them many times. Most of the time, they were inclined to believe it. Between the three of them, they had the business down to a fine art, tracking down whatever it was, and taking care of it as soon as possible. Their mother, Mary, had been a part of it as well, up until her death a decade or so ago. She'd died tackling a demon, and the rest of her family had made sure the thing was dead three times over for it.
For the most part, the two of them traveled, picking up whatever cases they could find along the way. Their father was about as retired as one could get in this business. He mostly stayed at home, tracking odd phenomenon and assigning tasks to other hunters. Every once in awhile, he'd still take a case, mostly when he got bored of daytime TV. Whenever the boys needed a break, or Dean needed a place to park the Impala while he fixed it up, they came back home to Kansas, staying with John. This was one of such cases. The pair had been on the road for at least a month, tackling ghosts and the occasional shape shifter, and both had figured it was about time for a break to recharge.
John was waiting for them when they returned, eager to hear about how the job had gone. There was also something that resembled dinner waiting. Their father could take down a demon in minutes, but any food more difficult to make than Mac and cheese was beyond him. Still, neither was complaining, and after a quick washing up of old house dust, they sat down to eat. It was a routine case, a quick salt and burn, nothing too strenuous. But John was always interested in the retelling of his sons' work. Dean usually wound up giving the stories, attempting as always to make his father proud of them. Sam just smiled to himself, pushing the casserole of the day around on his plate and giving details as needed. It was almost a routine in itself.
But routines have a habit of changing unexpectedly, especially where the Winchester family was concerned. And this particular change would come in the form of an unassuming young woman.
Dinner ended, and the dishes were done. It was somewhere after midnight, still early enough not to be considered morning, and the brothers had taken to sitting on the porch with a few beers after their father had gone to bed. They talked about anything and nothing at all, just enjoying the cool night air and each other's company. A few hours later, Dean got up, ready to head in. Sam followed, but stopped suddenly as he caught sight of a red blur dashing around the side of the house.
Curious, he stepped off the porch, following it. The house and the property surrounding it were covered in protective spells, so he wasn't especially concerned about danger. He didn't expect to come face to face with a shorter woman, around his own age, bright red hair and wide green eyes. He let out a sharp noise, more out of surprise than anything else. The woman didn't seem shocked, as if she was expecting him to follow her.
"Who are you?" he frowned. "What are you doing here?"
She didn't reply, merely shaking her head and pointing down at his feet as she took a step back. Tilting his head, he looked down. He was standing in the middle of a red circle drawn in the ground. It looked to be red spray paint. The circle was some sort of spell, covered in symbols Sam had never seen before. And that was saying something for him.
"This can't hold me, whatever it is. These traps are made for demons, not humans." He moved to step past the red line to prove his point. But instead of crossing the line, he was stopped, as if an invisible wall blocked his path. He looked back up at the woman, his face a mix of shock and anger. She smiled softly.
Dean, by this time, had found his brother missing, and went to find where he'd gotten off to. Breaking out into a slow jog, he rounded the side of the house he'd seen Sam disappear behind. Sam was there, speaking to a redheaded girl. He looked up as he saw Dean head his way.
"Dean, don't step in the—"
Before he could finish, his brother had crossed the red line to join him, not even noticing the mark in the darkness.
Sam sighed. "…line."
"What line?" Dean arched a brow. "And who's the chick? Sneaking off for secret rendezvous now, Sammy?"
"THAT line," his brother deadpanned, pointing to the ground under him. "And I don't know who she is."
The older Winchester shrugged. "It's just a demon trap, nothing to be worried about." He stepped over the line, or at least tried to, eyes widening as he found himself just as trapped as his brother. "Huh. Well that's new."
Sam ignored him, staring at the girl instead. "What do you want?"
But the redhead wasn't answering, instead giving them that secretive smile she'd been wearing since he'd run into her. It was starting to get on his nerves. It was part serene, and part smug. Like she knew everything would work in her favor, and she wasn't going to tell them anything she didn't want to.
Apparently he wasn't the only one annoyed with her behavior, which wasn't surprising in the slightest. "Hey!" Dean growled, getting serious now that the situation proposed actual danger. "You gonna answer him?"
She shook her head, looking from one to the other.
"Can't talk or something?"
Finally she spoke. "I can, when I want to."
"Well now we're getting somewhere," Sam kept his eyes trained on her. "What do you want? What kind of trap is this?"
"It's not a trap," she replied, arms crossed over an olive drab jacketed chest. "It's a spell."
"Sure seems like a trap to me," Dean huffed, poking a booted foot at the red border.
"What kind of spell?" Sam asked. At least they were getting some answers out of the girl now.
She shrugged. "A transport spell."
"A WHAT?"
Before Dean had further chance to yell, the woman stepped into the circle with them. Immediately the red lines began to glow in the darkness. From somewhere a wind picked up, tossing their hair and clothes around roughly. If they didn't already know better, it'd be a safe bet to assume a tornado had wound its' way into town in the blink of an eye. The circle continued to glow, brighter and brighter, and the wind blew harder and harder. Finally the pair had to close their eyes against both.
Sam yelled something, voice quickly swallowed by the wind whirling around them in noisy gusts. Dean didn't catch it, but he reached to grab for the other's arm. He could see red light even behind his closed eyelids, and the wind howled, effectively blinding and deafening him.
And then, just as suddenly as it started, the wind stopped. The light remained, although it changed color from bright red to pale orange. It dimmed enough to allow Dean to open his eyes, looking around.
He was no longer near John's house in the early- morning darkness. Instead he found himself in a field, bright green grass rolling out as far as he could see. The circle, the transport spell, was gone. The sun was out, which explained the light. If he had to guess, he'd say it was midday. And if that wasn't confusing enough, there was no sign of the woman.
Worse, there was no sign of Sam either.