Timestamp: The timestamp for the Dresden universe is during the opening of Changes (some spoilers, so, be warned) and for Supernatural, it's Season Five (no spoilers there).
Disclaimer: None of these amazing characters are mine, sadly, all rights go to their rightful owners.
Author's Notes: It's a crossover! Woo! My plot bunnies are running rampant, and this is what happens… I'm a big fan of both Supernatural and The Dresden Files (the books, that is), and what can get better than all four of my favorite paranormal heroes in one place?
"Sam! What the hell just happened?" Dean shouted, straining to make see anything through the dust and rubble of the collapsed building.
His brother shook off the plaster dust that had gathered in his hair. "No idea. All we did was walk in, then the building collapsed."
"Fuego!" someone shouted, running down the remains of what had once been the rent-a-office building's main hallway, headed directly towards where Sam and Dean stood. The air went still for a moment before the rubble burst into flames all around the brothers.
Dean stared at the fire and the man still running towards them. "Why can't we ever get the easy jobs?" he mumbled.
"Who are you?" The man who'd been running had stopped, staring at Sam and Dean like they were aliens from another planet. He managed to stick to the shadows well enough that Dean couldn't get a good look at him, but Dean was going to bet that he wasn't a human.
Dean aimed his sawed-off shotgun at the Mystery Man. "I have the gun, I'll ask the questions," he snapped.
Mystery Man stepped from the shadows, the fire making the contrast of his all-black get-up—combat boots, cargo pants, t-shirt and a duster coat that looked like a prop from an old detective movie—with his sweaty paper-white skin even starker. He had what looked like a walking stick in one hand and a .44 Magnum in his hand.
Witch? But why would a witch carry a Magnum? Seems kind of pointless, Dean thought to himself. And he's wearing a pentacle amulet, so he's not a demon. Another hunter, maybe? But that didn't explain the fire…
"Mine's bigger. I win. Now tell me who you two are and drop the gun or I'll light this whole place on fire," said Mystery Man, keeping his eyes on Dean and his gun pointed at Sam. With a wave of his walking stick, the flames died down to almost nothing, just enough that they could still see.
Sam stared at his brother. Dean just shrugged, dropping the gun but keeping his hand on Ruby's knife in pocket, just in case his suspicions were wrong.
"I'm Dean. This is my brother Sam." Think of a lie, a good lie… Dean had nothing. This mystery dude was obviously involved in something paranormal, but…
"We're hunters," Sam supplied, locking eyes with Mystery Man. "We're investigating a mass haunting that's been going on here. Something big must be stirring up all these old ghosts."
Mystery Man nearly dropped his gun in surprise. "Hunters? You mean, like monster hunters?"
Dean raised an eyebrow. Mystery Man was obviously not familiar with hunters. Whoever he was— or whatever he was—he wasn't a hunter. "Exactly. Which raises the question, who are you? Definitely not a hunter."
Mystery Man was still shocked by the idea of monster hunters, because it took him a minute to realize he'd been asked a question. "Oh. Uh. I'm…Dresden. Harry Dresden. The only professional wizard in the phonebook."
That was too much for Sam and Dean. They both laughed, hard.
"Seriously? A professional wizard? Do you think we're stupid?" laughed Dean.
Harry Dresden, Mystery Man no longer, gave Dean a look so poisonous that it could have killed six people. "Do you think I'm stupid? Monster hunters? Look, the cops are going to be here any minute. Either we get gone or we get arrested. And unless you monster hunters have some—"
He never got a chance to finish the sentence. Before anyone knew what was going on, there was the sound of flapping wings and a smell like wet earth and ozone, and then both the Winchester brothers, professional monster hunters, and Harry Dresden, professional wizard, were standing in the Winchesters' hotel room.
Castiel, looking as rumpled as ever in his suit and trench coat, stood between Dean and Dresden. "I apologize for not giving any warning, but you were all going to be shot by police officers. I could not allow you all to be injured."
"What just happened? Where the hell are we? And who the hell is this?" Dresden stared at Castiel, waving his walking stick at him.
"My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord. I brought you to Sam and Dean's motel room because otherwise you were all in great danger," Castiel explained, as if it had been painfully obvious.
Dresden laughed. "You want a cough drop or something? Your voice is like gravel." He dropped his gun on the single desk and propped his walking stick on the wall. "No other weapons, I swear. Now start giving me some real answers."
For a moment, Dean wished he hadn't dropped his gun back there. All the other guns and weapons were in the trunk of the Impala, in the parking lot of the office building. The only weapon effective on humans he and Sam had was the demon knife and a switchblade. If this Harry Dresden decided to fight, it was going to get ugly fast for the brothers.
"Hold on there, cowboy, take your coat off and empty all your pockets," ordered Dean. He still had no idea exactly what this dude was, and if anything happened, he wanted to make sure he and Sam had the advantage.
Dresden obeyed without questioning it, neatly arranging everything on the motel room's desk. He had a pocket knife, a sports drink bottle filled with bright yellow goop, a lock picking kit, extra bullets and magazines, an iron letter opener, a big plastic bottle filled with rock salt, a flashlight, and a silver flask.
Sam stared at the things on the desks, trying to figure out a pattern between any of them. Maybe Dresden was a hunter too, only acting like he was confused?
"We're hunters. Monster hunters, like we said. Gravel-lung here is an angel. We kill evil shit together. How much more of an explanation do you need?" Dean said, watching Dresden closely.
"We're investigating what we think is a massive haunting. All the usual signs, all the usual reports of a haunting, but at least fifty separate reports. The office building you blew up and lit on fire was one of the haunted spots, so we were just checking it out when you blew it up," Sam quickly added.
Dresden nodded, but he wasn't really buying it. Who exactly where these kids? Sam and Dean—if those were their real names—were maybe in their early twenties; neither looked old enough to serious "monster hunters", which in itself fairly screamed fake.
And then this "angel" just happens to drop in and zaps all four of them to Sam and Dean's hotel room? And why did anything powerful enough to zap five people instantly not even give off the slightest magical tinge in anyway?
Dresden had struggled for a minute or two to see if any of the other men were just glamours hiding monster, but they were all real flesh-and-blood bodies, even Castiel. What the hell was Castiel, anyway? Castiel looked like some kind of tax accountant or something.
He tried to recall if he'd pissed off anyone recently who'd be willing to go to such elaborate lengths to kill him. Today was just not going his way.
"I'm a wizard. White Council. Kind-of Warden. I didn't blow up the building, by the way. You did. That's just what happens when someone breaks the wards I put around my office. By the way, it's not a mass haunting. I'm pretty sure it's vampires," Dresden explained slowly.
Castiel locked eyes with Dresden, hand outstretched. "This will be uncomfortable," the angels warned, immediately plunging his hand into Dresden's chest with no advance notice.
Sam and Dean had only seen the angel do this once or twice before. Literally going soul-searching was difficult not only for Castiel, but for whoever was unfortunate to need their soul examined. It was energy-consuming for Castiel and uncomfortable on the borderline of physical pain for whoever need a soul exam.
Dresden screamed like a girl, and kept screaming until Castiel pulled back, mumbling something in Enochian under his breath.
"He's telling the truth." Even Castiel himself sounded surprised. "He is a wizard."
Immediately Dresden pulled his coat back on, grabbing the things he'd laid out on the desk frantically. "I don't who you are or what you are, but I am out. I don't know who sent you, but I have more important things to do than get soul-groped by angels!" he yelled, yanking the door open and storming out like an angry teenage girl.
Dean counted down under his breath. "Six, five, four, three, two…"
Dresden came stomping back in.
"One." Dean smirked at the wizard. "Knew it," he said smugly.
"I have no way to get home," sighed Dresden. "Whoever sent you to kill me did a damn fine job. Can't even get a door to the Nevernever open, and I have no idea where we are. Who sent you, anyway?"
"We told you. We're not assassins. We're hunters. This is Castiel, an angel. I'm Sam Winchester and this is my brother Dean. No one sent us. We're here because it's our job to kill monsters and there's a case here. We honestly don't want trouble," assured Sam.
Dresden looked from Sam, to Dean, to Castiel, before he sighed heavily. "I'm a professional wizard, like I said. And if you're surprised by the fact that wizards exist, you're the worst monster hunters I've ever seen. Not that I know many, though." He searched through the motel desk's drawers, finding the standard Gideon Bible and the phone book.
Tossing the Bible aside, Dresden thumbed through the yellow pages.
"Going to order a pizza?" Dean asked. Dresden ignored the jib, concentrating on finding the right page. He had finally met a match for his own sense of sarcasm.
W… Walking Clubs…Weight Management… Wizards.
Harry Dresden—Wizard.
Dresden pointed to the entry proudly, practically waving it in Dean and Sam's faces but completely ignoring Castiel. The angel didn't look upset or offended by the lack of attention, though.
"There you go. You've got your soul-groping evidence and now you've seen me in the phone book. Will you let me out of whatever magic-eating spell you put around this place now, or would you like me to do a little song and dance too?"
"Sorry to burst your bubble, Merlin, but if you've noticed none of us are Harry Potter. We don't do—" started Dean.
"Hex bags? Really?" Dresden pulled the small leather pouch from behind the desk. "I thought you weren't Harry Potter."
Sam bit down on his knuckle to restrain his laughter. His big brother had finally met someone as snarky as him.
