Author: TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel

Title: Inheritable Characteristics

Summary: Sam and Dean know a hunter named Xander. But when the Apocalypse starts approaching, they find there's more to him than meets the eye.

Spoilers/warnings:

For Supernatural: Uh… season five? In general? You know who Gabriel is, you're good to go.

For Buffy: I dunno, first two seasons in general?

Author notes:

So, part of the plot was inspired by the fic, 'Isn't It Ironic?' by Luna del Cielo. –evil grin- If you've read it, you might be able to guess, a little, at where this might go.

Inheritable Characteristics

Prologue

They met him when they were trying to take out a vampire nest.

'Trying' being the operative word.

Sam was busy fending off three vampires at once and Dean had one practically at his throat.

As he got thrown back against the wall and pinned, Dean had just enough time to think several curse words as the vampire closed in.

But instead of the vampire biting him, there was a whirl of wood and metal from the side and the vampire's head went flying.

Dean coughed a bit as the headless body collapsed, leaving him the sight of a short guy with an axe who was already moving across to help Sam.

With three of them now fighting the odds were evened, and they made short work of the remaining vampires.

"You're not bad," the guy with the axe commented. Something about the slight wave in his hair and the shape of his face looked vaguely familiar, but Dean couldn't give a damn right now.

"Neither are you," Dean responded. "Dean Winchester. This is my brother Sam."

"Xander Harris," the other hunter offered, holding out a slightly gory hand to shake. Dean didn't hesitate, and Sam hid his slight distaste well as he did the same.

"Bigger nest than you thought, huh?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed wryly. "Thanks. You really helped just now."

Xander just shrugged.

"Hey, it's part of the job, right?" He shrugged the thanks off easily. "Besides, everyone gets in a tight spot now and then. I know I'm never going to live down the time the praying-mantis lady almost ate me. I mean, I was in high school at the time, but considering my friends had warned me something was up, that's no excuse."

Dean and Sam exchanged 'what the hell?' glances.

"Praying mantis lady?" Dean repeated.

"Yeah." Xander made a rueful, disgusted face. "Apparently they eat their partners when they mate. Somehow, Miss French seemed a lot less attractive when I found out what was going on."

Dean felt a certain amount of sympathy.

"I hate it when hot chicks turn out to be supernatural nasties," he agreed. "That's just wrong."

Xander nodded wholeheartedly.

"I know! And every woman I ever date now seems to be a demon, or a resurrected Incan mummy, or whatever. It's like I'm cursed. It's gotten so bad that if I only say I met someone, my friends break out the stakes and the holy water."

"That's tough, man." Sam had his commiserating face on. Well, if anyone got that whole thing, it was Sam.

"Tell me about it." Xander looked around. "Don't suppose you know if there's any bars around here? I could use a drink."

"Best damn idea I've heard all night."

The three of them met up in the local bar and sat down in one corner.

Sam and Dean had each gotten beers, while Xander sat down with a green swirly drink with a little umbrella in it.

"Hey, don't judge me," he said, in response to their looks. "I like a manly drink as well as anyone, but sometimes I just want something with enough sugar to make me pass out."

"What the hell is that thing, anyway?" Dean asked, with a skeptical eyebrow. As far as he was concerned, no hunter sat down with a girly drink like that. His respect for Xander had just taken a hit.

Xander shrugged.

"A bunch of drinks with fancy names," he replied, trying his drink, and wincing as the umbrella poked him in the eye. "On second thought, maybe I should remove the umbrella first."

Dean smirked, and saw that Sam wore a slight grin.

"So. You're a hunter too?" Sam asked, opening up the conversation.

Xander nodded.

"Yup. Been hunting things since I was sixteen. One of my friends was a hunter, and we ended up helping out."

"That sounds... really dangerous," Sam said, eyebrows rising.

"Yeah. We were lucky."

"You sure as hell were. Most kids trying that sort of stunt get killed," Dean said bluntly.

Xander just nodded sombrely in agreement, his eyes momentarily sad, like he was remembering someone who hadn't been as lucky as he was, Dean thought. He knew the look.

"How about you two?" Xander asked in a suddenly upbeat voice, the smile back on his face. His eyes were shuttered, though.

"Our Dad was a hunter," Sam said.

"And our grandfather," Dean added. "You might say it's the family business. We grew up with this shit."

Xander made an 'I don't know what I think of that but it probably isn't good' face.

"That must have been pretty hard on you as kids," he commented.

"Yeah."

There was silence for a moment.

"I'm going to get myself another beer," Dean announced.

When the three of them were thrown out at closing hour, several hours later, and went their separate ways, it was carrying each others cell phone numbers. Xander had been a fun kind of guy, and Dean suspected he was someone you might be able to trust to watch your back, if things turned ugly; that was how he felt, anyway, although he was pretty sure Sam just wanted to remain in contact because the two of them had bonded over dead languages over Sam's fifth beer and Xander's third green girly drink.

Over the next year or so, they sometimes rang each other about a case, even helping each other out on occasion, and any time they turned up in the same town at the same time they usually met up for a drink somewhere.

It was sort of like having a weird-ass long-distance friendship. And that was kinda nice.