Notes: I sort of want to claim insanity on this one, but I just don't think that's going to fly.

As far as I know this is the first Repo/Supernatural crossover on this site, but I'm pretty sure you can read this story only having seen one or the other. All you really need to know is that no, the Graverobber never had an 'actual' name.

You get two chapts to start. After that it updates weekly.


[Four Years Ago]

The girl was only twelve years old at most, pale and thin, dark shadows smudged under her eyes. She was dressed in a white nightgown, old fashioned, lace trimming the high neck. She stared at him sombrely from the rose-covered archway of the window, a plush rabbit dangling from one of her tiny pale hands.

He stared back for several long moments, waiting for a scream that never came. Eventually he straightened, drawing back up to his full height - he didn't try to hide the arm that he was carrying, it was a little too late for that. "Aren't you a little young to be up this late?" he asked, playing it as cool as possible considering the circumstances.

"Aren't you a little dead to be walking around?" she retorted, and despite sounding exhausted there was still a bite to her tone.

"Touché. Nice call, kid."

"I'm not a kid."

"You look like a kid."

The girl shrugged. She hugged the plush rabbit to her chest and leaned against the window frame listlessly. She was silent for so long that he was beginning to think he should just get going and leave her to it - as long as she didn't scream and draw attention to him directly nobody would believe her if she talked. He was just about to disappear into the night when she spoke again. "What's it like when you die?"

"I wouldn't know," he admitted. "Never have personally."

"But you look dead," she protested quietly, not looking at him. "You look like a zombie. How can you look like that and not be dead?"

"I was born like this."

"So you're not human."

He shook his head. "Not even close."

"Oh." She sighed. "I just thought you could tell me what it's going to be like when I die."

"Sort of a morbid subject for a kid your age." He held a hand up when she glared at him, dirt-smeared palm turned towards her. "Hey, I'm a grave robber, kid. I only know what happens to you when you're already dead."

"What happens then?" she asked, dark eyes flicking to the still-pinkish arm held loosely in the grave robber's grasp.

"You rot. Your spirit dissipates, goes where it's going - or it stays behind, gets a little insane as the years roll on. And sometimes you become a tasty snack for things like me." He held up the arm, then slung it over one shoulder so it balanced there, forearm dangling down against his chest, upper arm against his back. "So why does a girl like you want to know?"

The girl looked away again, then back up at his face. "My dad is going to kill me."

-


-

[Now]

"Here's one. Listen to this..."

Dean looked up from his hardcopy paper to listen to Sam read from the screen of his laptop, frowning thoughtfully. They were looking for jobs, like always, and so far hadn't come up with anything too pressing within a day or two's drive. Dean almost felt perversely disappointed that there was nothing that seemed to need killing. And guilty enough about that to sit still and listen while Sam spoke.

"Two twelve year old girls dead within the last two weeks, each one found in their beds in a coma that lasted for two days before they died. The hospital is refusing comment, which means they probably don't know what's wrong." Sam spun the screen to show Dean a set of pictures. "And look at this. This is two different girls, Dean."

"They look almost exactly alike."

"Not exactly, but close. They both had long dark hair and brown eyes, pale skin."

"Any markings on the bodies?"

"I pulled the autopsy reports," Sam replied, shaking his head. "There's nothing. No chemicals, no bruising, nothing to indicate how they could have died. Aside from being dead... they're perfectly healthy."

"Looks like we have a case."

"Shepherd Bridge," Sam recited, shutting his laptop. "About five hours drive from here."

Dean dug out a few bills from his pocket to settle the cost of breakfast and caffeine. He dumped the lot in the middle of the table and slid from the booth. "I'll make it four."

-


-

Meadow Creek was pristine. It was a nice town filled with nice people who all lived in very nice houses. Shilo felt horribly out of place there. It was only her first week in this particular town and already she could tell that it wasn't a good fit. For one thing the school she was expected to attend was a Christian college, complete with nuns and daily mass. For another, her new foster mother had a rule about open windows.

This was the third foster home Shilo had been moved to in just two years. It was also the third full medical check up in just two years.

Shilo had come to view these visits, these homes, as wholly temporary nuisances. Just more bumps along an already bumpy road and something she'd be glad to be rid of once she turned eighteen. For now, at sixteen, she was forced to endure the constant monitoring of her supposed conditions.

"Alright," Doctor Strauss, a kindly, balding type with large thick glasses and a moustache that could win prizes, smiled at Shilo. "I think we're just about done here. I'll just need to take a small blood sample just to make sure everything is working the way it should be."

Shilo smiled back. A blandly sweet, insincere expression. She already knew her white blood cell count would be perfectly normal. It always was. It had been for four years now. "You're in luck," Shilo said, holding out her arm for the tourniquet. "I'm an easy stick."

The needle pinched as it went in, just like always. Shilo was so used to the process that she could watch as Dr. Strauss drew just one vial of blood before withdrawing the needle and pressing a cotton ball to the site. Shilo waited for the tape, then curled her arm in to help keep the pressure on the cotton. She'd have a small bruise later. She always did.

Dr. Strauss nodded to her. "Very good, very good. Alright, Shilo. I think that's everything we needed to do."

"Is the prognosis good?" Shilo asked, sounding genuine despite how sarcastic she felt about the question.

"Just between you and me I'd say you're looking in the pink of health, but we'll just wait and see what the blood work says, hm?"

Shilo nodded. She retrieved her school bag from the floor and stood. "Can I go?" she asked, "I should really be doing my homework."

"Is Carol picking you up?"

"She said I could walk. It's only five minutes." Shilo had a sneaking suspicion that the proximity to the doctor's surgery was one of the deciding factors in her newest temporary fact that Carol Wilson - Shilo's foster mother - had experience looking after chronically ill foster-kids was probably also a factor.

Dr. Strauss gave her a suspicious look that she countered with her sweetest, most genuine smile. He caved after only two seconds, and offered her a cheap strawberry lollipop to boot. "Oh, alright. Off you go then."

"Thankyou."

She was half way out the door when the doctor added; "Now don't forget, we have another appointment in two weeks."

Shilo suppressed a small sigh in favour of another smile. "I wont forget. Thankyou, Doctor Strauss."

Every single part of Meadow's Creek that Shilo had seen looked like something from a 1950s tv show. The architecture was all clean American lines, each building complimenting the next to create a perfect cookie-cutter town. The grass was all green, the lawns all neatly trimmed. She had yet to see a gardening company van hanging around anywhere, but she was sure it was only a matter of time.

The house Shilo was now being forced to live in was painted a light peachy pink. It was two storeys of good old fashioned homeliness. The only thing she liked about it was the rose trellis on one side of the house, the one that came up to just below her bedroom window. It also helped that just behind the back yard was a smattering of trees and open ground that cleared out into a small park. Beyond that was the forest that bordered part of the town itself.

The other side of town was all farmland. Shilo preferred the trees.

It was almost dark by the time she got home. Winter meant early nights, which was all the better for her. Shilo had always preferred night time to day, and not just because it was quieter.

She played at being the good little girl and did her homework downstairs in the living room with the other two girls living in the house, then ate dinner at the table with everyone else and answered questions about her first week at school. She escaped upstairs to her room at the first opportunity and sat by the window.

Shilo got what she was waiting for only a half hour later. A flash of light bouncing off a mirror, disturbing the local population of bats. That meant he was here, and she would leave the window unlocked tonight.

It was close to midnight when she woke, drawn from sleep by the sudden chill of a winter breeze. Shilo sat up and looked towards the window, not in the least bit surprised to see the shaggy silhouette framed by the moonlight. She wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and slid off the bed. "I didn't know when you were going to get here. You took longer than usual."

The Graverobber shrugged, the long fur on his coat rippling in the breeze. "I had to scope the place first. This little town isn't very grave robber-friendly."

"We wouldn't have this problem," Shilo pointed out, "if I could come and see you. Sneaking around at night is not optimal, someone could see you." She sat down on the window ledge, careful not to balance too precariously. One large greyish hand placed itself on the side of the window frame, the Graverobber's arm forming an extra barrier to help keep her inside. Shilo looked him straight in the eye. "Why can't I come see you during the daytime?"

"You know why," Graverobber replied easily. Somehow he was standing on the trellis, holding himself up with just a foothold and a hand against the window frame.

"I could come to you," Shilo pointed out, a tiny pale hand fluttering out into the night to touch the fur on his shoulder. It was plush, nearly a living entity in itself for all that it was just a coat. "In the graveyard. I know where you'd be living. I just have to pick the right tomb."

"Don't be stupid, Shy."

"Do you think I'm going to be freaked out by a couple of corpses? I see you all the time."

The Graverobber rolled his eyes, swinging out on the trellis until he was leaning against the wall with his back to her. "I'm not a corpse, kid. There's a big difference between me and a corpse. Corpses," he said, looking back over his shoulder with a grin, "don't save little girls from big bad ghosties."

"Then what you really mean," Shilo protested with a small sigh, "is you don't want me poking around in a graveyard you haven't picked through yet."

"Got it in one, Shy."

"That's stupid. There's only one ghost I have to worry about, and it's not going to stalk me through a graveyard that you're staying in."

"You're not visiting me. End of story, kid."

"Graverobber..."

One of his greyish hands reached back to take hers, fingers cool and smudged with dirt. Shilo leaned out of the window as he pulled her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, leaving a reddish smear behind. "Be a good girl," he told her. "Just for now."