Hey. I decided to post this story, though I have no idea if anyone will want to read it or not. It is a crossover AU fic of three of my favorite shows: GH/Supernatural/Angel. Can that be realistically done? Well, you'll just have to read and let me know.
Before I get started with the first chapter, here's a little history of the shows with a author's note that I tend to manipulate canon as I see fit for my stories. Also, the typical couples from these shows won't exist.
GH history is exactly the same, up until May of last year. Except for one major point, Jason and Carly have a daughter, Kady. She was born before Michael, who is still around and AJ's son. The storyline picks up sort of where it is now, minus hostage stuff that's going on now.
Jason didn't sleep with Liz so there is no baby. Liz won't even be in this fic, except for maybe a mention or two but no appearances. Carly is still engaged to Jax but not married to Sonny, although he is still being an asshole. The AU stuff just sort of blends, so to speak but any other changes will be explained within the course of the story.
Angel history: Because of time gaps, I'm manipulating the history a great deal. Everything is the same up until Holtz jumps with Baby Connor. With one big exception and everything changes after that. It will be explained within story context. I should point out that Buffy died during the Glory battle and stayed dead. I have my reasons.
Supernatural: Picks up where My Big Fat Supernatural Wedding left off, all history from there applies. That fic is posted here and is the prequel to this story.
I'm going to try to do explanations for readers who are unfamiliar with any of these shows, but they won't occupy too much of the story because that would take forever. I hope that the story will be enjoyable even to someone who hasn't seen any of these shows.
That's enough from me.
Rated: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own them. The characters of GH, the Whedonverse and Supernatural are property of their creators. I'm just borrowing them to tell the little the tale in my head.
Feedback: Greatly appreciated.
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Chapter One
Port Charles, New York
Cerulean eyes snapped open at precisely five fifty a.m.
His heartrate was slightly elevated but that was nothing new. Waking from this nightmare each morning was almost like waking next to an old lover. Almost a year now, he thought, glancing at the shadows of coming sunrise dancing on the walls from beneath the blinds. In the beginning, he woke with her name on his lips. Sweat dripping from his body and his heart hammering so hard against his ribs it felt like any second it would either explode from the pressure or just burst through the bone.
Anguish would grip his throat as the lingering traces of her scent filled his lungs, the memory of the silk of her skin against his fingers haunted him. And he would be forced to relive the fact that she had died in his arms and there hadn't been a damned thing he could do about it.
Watching her from the terrace, knowing even as she crossed through the resturaunt to him, stopped in the doorway to smile, it would always end the same. She would run to him, he would sweep her into his arms and she would die seconds later.
If only he hadn't spun her in that circle. If only he had gone home after being released from police custody. If only he hadn't tried to surprise her and merely met her inside. Perhaps she would still be alive.
Or perhaps death would have come to her another way. For he had learned that when death came calling, there was usually no way to avoid it.
Now there were simply the nightmares and memories. Funny how things were. Life before her, life after her. His life didn't change, couldn't change, except for the missing piece of his heart that had been torn away. And the guilt that he lived with each day. She hadn't belonged in his world and no matter how hard he had tried to convince her, but she loved him, stood by him.
Died because of him.
It was her choice. It was the code he lived his life by, the only way he could live his life. Choices. Free will. So little by little he let her in, regardless of his doubts. She didn't blink an eye when she understood what being a mob enforcer entailed. She just stood by him, supported him.
She fit so well, stayed by him even when he told her everything. And everything was a tall order for a normal person to accept. Only she hadn't really understood. Thought she had, playing at Hunters and destinies, as if it were like his job as enforcer. She saw the guns, the weapons, the lore. Once she even glimpsed the evil, but still didn't quite understand that his life wasn't something to be taken lightly. Not until that last instant when it was too late to walk away, to change that choice and her eyes closed and her light faded.
And now all that was left of Samantha McCall were a few boxes in storage and a cold grave.
Weary, he rose naked from his bed, turning off the alarm before it had the opportunity to sound. He slipped into a pair of black jogging pants and headed to the bathroom. Brooding didn't change life and wouldn't bring Sam back.
Leaving the light off, he walked toward the sink, caught the reflection in the mirror. A little over ten years ago, he had been in a car crash resulting in a nice brain scramble and a courtesy perk coma. He would never forget drifting in the ether, that place between life and death when he had been given a choice.
Free will.
Only he had known that the question he was being asked was about more than whether he would live or die, it was about what would come after. The path his life would take and the trials he would endure. He had agreed, and that soft light had bathed him, filled him, then ripped the veil from his eyes.
When he woke, the life before was gone and in it's place was this man here. This reflection it took years to really be able to see. The damage to his brain had skewered his perception a bit, left him with gifts that most would turn from in terror, but now when he saw himself he was used to the image projected back at him.
Tall, muscular build, a profile of planes and ridges, medium brown hair, cold blue eyes. A simple band of silver on the thumb of the right hand he scrubbed through his hair. The triquetra, an interlaced form of a trinity knot unified by a circle, tattooed over his heart, courtesy of a powerful Wiccan. The words of protection in a fine script of the old language, wrapping his bicep, a thank you from Tibetian monks. The seal encircling his navel, which he had yet to decide if were gift or curse.
Jason Morgan was a complicated man.
Ten minutes later after morning absolutions, he was walking down the short hall from his bedroom, tapping at another door. "Kady, wake up call, monkey." He waited a minute before twisting the knob and sticking his head in. Morning had come to the pastel blue room with him noting the messy bed, the clothes tossed haphazardly on a chaise sitting by the window and the computer on the desk running it's usual Yuna, Paine and Rikku screensaver.
No Kady.
A smirk curved his lips as he shut the door and headed downstairs to the basement. Three years ago he moved out of the penthouse and into the little cottage that Brenda Barrett used to live in, wanting to give Kady more than life in a drab penthouse condo. He wanted her to have permanence and a sense of home to balance the chaos of his life.
It hadn't been much of a change for him and seeing the delight on her face when she stood in their backyard and twirled in a circle was all he needed to know to assure him that he'd made the right choice.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs he found said monkey standing barefoot on a practice mat dressed in a grey t-shirt and shorts. She had pulled her blonde hair into a short ponytail that stuck up wildly at it's blunted edges. He could remember when Kady had taken a pair of scissors to her almost waist length hair shearing it off to it's now chin length. Carly was furious but Kady had given her mother her usual eye roll and politely explained that it was her hair.
Carly glared and blamed it on him, as she always did when their daughter did something Carly didn't like. Began muttering about bad influences and smart mouths, and taking Kady to live with her. That is until Kady gave her the stare. Carly hated that stare. Said it was definetly inherited from him. Leaving him to wonder if that was supposed to be an insult or a compliment.
Despite the rocky stops and starts, faults and pits of their relationship over the years, he could honestly say that Kady was the best of them. He met Carly soon after his accident, waking up almost as a newborn, having to rediscover life.
She had been a confusing mix of strength, conniving and vulnerablity with a beautiful face. The sex had been anonomus and good but eventually they developed a friendship. When she came to him pregnant he took her in, promised to do right by her and their baby but then Carly was always for her plans and schemes and there were more important things in life than keeping up with her whims.
"I beat you this morning," her soft voice began, even as she turned around with a smile. There was his little girl. Kady had climbed into his heart from the day he learned of her existence and become the most important person in his world.
"First time for everything," he muttered, crossing the floor to her and pressing a kiss to her forehead, "Morning."
"Morning Daddy," she smiled, wrapping thin arms around his waist and squeezing hard before leaning back with a definite Carlyesque gleam in her blue eyes. "Now unless I'm wrong, you said if I beat you down, I could pick the music."
Jason rolled his eyes and groaned as if pain, "Did I really say that?"
"Yep," she nodded, releasing him and walking over to the stereo system on the wall. "I beat you, so I get to choose something other than that sucky sounds of nature stuff you make me listen to every morning."
Well, he couldn't argue with her there. He just couldn't see himself beating Busta Rhymes with his eleven year old daughter in the same room. Instead he saved that for when he was burning muscle with weights after she was on her bus for school.
"Fine," he shrugged in surrender, "But I refuse to listen some pansy assed pretty boy."
"Justin Timberlake has nothing on you Daddy," she snickered teasingly and pressed play on the CD and something classical began pouring through the speakers. "Firebird Suite from Fantasia 2000. Can't object to that."
The lilting music seemed just right for his mood this morning. He vaguely remembered watching the movie with her on one of their Wednesday movie nights. It's building crescendos would go perfectly with their workout. She joined him on the mat, easily joining in the motions of the katas of the martial arts. After a year, she was getting good and along side the nudge of pride was always the fear.
Always.
The gleam of silver around her neck caught his eye, the triquetra pendant tucked between her lips, her face a study of concentration. The emblem was a gift from the same Wiccan. A gift to the child of a Hunter, a girl who possessed the eyes of a Seer.
Some would think he was a bad parent, but considering the life they led, he knew that turning a blind eye would have made him negligent, not teaching his child how to protect herself. Jason watched her incorporate the gymastics that she had been studying most of her life, into the routine. Her slim body slipping effortlessly into handsprings and flips as he continued on with his own workout.
It would be years before he allowed Kady near his work, but evil had touched his life once and left them devastated. He had already lost one person he loved, he would do whatever necessary to ensure it didn't happen again.
Losing Sam broke his heart. Losing Kady would be the end of him.
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"Morning Spinelli."
Kady Morgan walked into the kitchen with a smile and a spring in her step despite the freezing cold temperatures that she would be heading out into soon. A good morning workout with her Dad, a shower and change into her absolute fav outfit, a pair of faded jeans and a thick cashmere hot pink sweater and hopefully some breakfast and her day would have started perfectly.
"Ah, if it isn't the Warrior Princess, child of Stone Cold and the Valkyrie," came that usual if not snort inspiring greeting from the young man who had moved in with them about six months ago. Spinelli was a confusing mix of grunge, computer hacker, gamer junkie and idiot savant. The nicknames drove her Dad crazy, but she had to admit some of them were pretty hilarious. Especially when he called Uncle Sonny The Godfather, but he only dared that when it was just the two of them.
The college freshman had been caught working for Mr. Alcazar trying to hack into the Corinthos/Morgan business interests. One look at the guy though proved he was more a danger to himself than anything else, and he had helped them take Mr. Alcazar down a couple of notches so Spinelli had earned a reprieve from her Dad.
There was something good about Spinelli underneath that slacker attitude and his dated catch phrases, so when she had asked her father if Spinelli could stay he agreed. Dad never doubted her judgement and Spinelli's gratitude had been interesting to say the least. Dad only had two rules, no drugs, no girls in the house and all guests had to be cleared in a background check first.
Boy was she not looking forward to dating.
"What can I get you for breakfast this morning? I'm good with the frozen pancakes and sausages, or I pour a mean bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios."
Kady rolled her eyes and grinned, "You don't have to do that," she reminded him for perhaps the hundredth time as she walked over to the cabinet and took down a bowl. "I can fix my own breakfast just fine." To prove it, she did so, adding a glass of orange juice and one of the apple cinnamon muffins they bought from Kelly's last night. "And you know Dad doesn't want you near his coffee pot."
"I know, I know," he nodded and grabbed a bowl of his own to join her. The memory of the last time Spinelli tried to tamper with the coffeemaker alive in his nervous eyes. It had been one of the rare times she saw her father lose his temper. As all residents of the little cottage understood, Jason Morgan's morning coffee was off limits for fear of lethal reprisal.
"So what does Dad have you doing today?" She spoke around a large spoonful of cereal.
"Just research," he shrugged, but Kady knew how much it meant to Spinelli that he was included. He had happened upon the hidden part of their lives by mistake, his overly curious nature finally getting the better of him when he hacked into her father's locked computer files. When Dad caught him, Spinelli had figured his temporary stay in the Morgan household was over, but she convinced him that Spinelli's skills could come in handy.
Sworn to silence, Spinelli had been eager to join the fight of good verses evil, as he put it. Dad kept him regulated to activities that kept him out of danger. Smart the guy might be, a fighter he definitely wasn't.
"What this time?" Her Dad had been on a real kick lately, his determination to ensure nothing happened to her, that he was prepared for everything the main focus of his life. Ever since her father stopped working for Sonny their lives had changed, mostly for the better but the reason he quit had broken all of their hearts.
She missed Sam, especially the way her father was with Sam.
"That old house on Mill road with all the ghost stories about it." Spinelli had learned that sometimes those stories were true, so if her father had him investigating it, there was probably something about it that registered on the Morgan radar. "Evidently he rode past it last night and got some bad vibes."
"Still talking too much I see," the door of the kitchen swung open and her father walked in freshly showered and dressed in a simple fitted black t-shirt and jeans with his usual boots. Her Dad was a hottie, she giggled softly, all of her friends from school thought so. "I could always find someone to take care of that for you."
Spinelli ducked his head, concentrating on the cereal he was currently devouring and trying to be inconspicuous which was ridiclous considering who he was trying to hide from. Sometimes Kady figured her father had eyes in the back of his head and super vision or something.
"He was just telling me about the house," she kicked him under the table, making him jerk and then shake his head in denial.
"No sir, not at all, I would never-"
"Shut up kid," he grunted pouring a mug of coffee and drinking some before speaking again, "I already heard you."
"Dad, that's just mean, you shouldn't be so nasty to him. Besides, how am I going to learn any of the good stuff if you won't tell me about it." He let her train with him, gave her lore to read but when it came time to actually go, her father would pin her with a look that suggested she'd have a better chance of getting a date with her favorite singing sensation.
"You're eleven," he pointed out. "You're not old enough to be worrying about old houses or ghost stories or whatever. You'll be a kid for as long as I can ensure it."
Before Sam died, this had been a nonissue. She had been kept away from the dangerous parts of his life as much as possible. The whispers about him being in the mob and being a criminal weren't so bad, unless she counted the times he was dragged down to the police station for questioning.
It was the real job. The Hunting. She had worried more about that than any mob rumors.
After Sam died, her father realized that trying to keep her tucked away in a neat little box was impossible. The best he could do to keep her safe was to teach her. Teach her how to protect herself.
Only they both knew there wasn't much he could do to ensure her absolute safety. His gifts had been passed on in her in their purest form. Where her father could sense evil and was given the ability to fight it, she could see it. Had for as long as she could remember.
Her first vivid recollection was being three years old and living with her mother for the summer. Something had entered her bedroom and she had started screaming and no amount of reassurances from her mother would make her stop. It wasn't until Carly called her Dad and he came over that she had felt a little safe. Her father had always made her feel safe and secure. Protected. Her mother had been unable to see the presence in her bedroom that night, but her father had and killed it.
It was that day when her parents decided it might be best if she lived with her Dad full time. Her mother knew some of what their lives entailed, but she preferred to operate under ignorance. If she couldnt' see it, then it didn't exist and therefore wasn't a danger to her peace of mind.
When directly confronted with her abilities, her mother stood by her, was a fount of strength and support. Only Kady knew that if Carly Corinthos had a choice she would prefer not to know.
"Did you find out anything useful, or were you too busy eating me out of house and home," her Dad turned probing eyes in Spinelli's direction, who immediately began stammering out excuses while he poured his third bowl of cereal. "I'd actually like some information before I go out there tonight."
"Um, I don't know really. I was working my way through the owner titles first before I started checking into the weird and wacky. Did you know that at one time the Webber family actually owned that place?"
"Webbers?" Her father frowned.
"As in the blonde one's family, Laura Webber Baldwin Spencer but a few generations before." Spinelli had that excited look in his eyes now, which meant he was gearing up for a big spill of information. Or perhaps it was the massive crush he had on Lulu Spencer.
"The house has actually burned to the ground on three seperate occasions. The first back in the late 1800's as part of that witch hunting stuff that went on during that time. A young woman was branded a witch and probably would have been sentenced, only the town got a little over exuberant and burned her one night in her house."
Enjoying himself, Spinelli crunched around a new spoonful of cereal before continuing on, "Then there was the man who killed his wife and the man she was seeing. He set the house on fire with them inside. That's not to mention all the shootings, stabbings and overall crazy stuff that has-"
"Spinelli, not exactly good breakfast conversation." her Dad reminded him.
Kady huffed in annoyance because she knew that he was stopping because of her. "You never let me hear the good stuff."
"When you're eightteen, I'll let you start hearing the good stuff."
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Los Angeles, California
The men and women gathered around the lobby of the Hyperion Hotel had once been a ragged group of loners, come together out of necessity. For the mission. Help the helpless. It became more than just a catchy phrase used to drum up business for a fledgeling detective agency. It was their path, and despite the tragedies that could have broken them, they continued to walk the walk.
And there were tragedies.
Each heart breaking in their own way but the one that hurt the most was the loss of Angel.
Angel.
The name was hardly uttered around here anymore, despite the fact that this was originally his hotel. Originally his mission. He had been the souled vampire that brought them all together. After him, they had found a way to continue on having learned that the mission didn't end simply because Angel had.
They had no proof of Angel's death, no one actually witnessed that staking, but they all knew that nothing would have kept Angel away short of death.
"So," spoke the eldest voice of the group, Wesley Wyndam-Price, former watcher, rogue demon hunter and the boss of Angel Investigations that continued on despite it's lack of Angel, "Has anyone spoken to her today?"
He looked at the faces, knowing the answer. Gunn answered for them all, rubbing an anxious hand over his bald head, "No. She hasn't come down from Angel's room since she did the whole vision bit." Over the years, Gunn had become his best friend, he had been the first to forgive his betrayal. Now they were as close as brothers.
"It's been five years," Fred tentatively said the words that were the white elephant in the room. Much had changed about Fred in the past years, her confidence grew, she became a better fighter, though her willowy form would always prevent her from possessing much physical strength. Fred's talents lie in her brilliant mind and the amazing weapons she could create with little more than science and ingenuity.
That wasn't all that changed about the once shy Winifred Burkle, proven by the hand that tucked her hair tenderly behind her ear. A loving smile curved her lips as she leaned into the leather clad shoulder for comfort and reassurance. Wesley still couldn't figure out how Fred and Spike had come together but strangely enough every time he saw them together he couldn't help but acknowledge that they made sense.
How Spike came to them was a bit of a mystery. They knew he left Sunnydale devastated after Buffy's death. The whole Scoobie gang there fell apart after that event. Giles went back to England and the Watcher's Council, Willow joined him and now headed a coven. Dawn moved to LA to live with her father and Xander married his former vengence demon girlfriend.
Dawn told them that Spike had been in love with Buffy, a clear eyebrow raiser, and stayed behind long enough to get her to her father before taking off to mourn. In the time between, somehow he managed to get a soul and go insane. Willow found him first contacted them for help figuring that they could help better than she could. Bringing Spike here had helped him but it was Fred who saved the vampire.
"So was the vision about the Poof or not," came the sarcastic reply. Yet beneath it, there was concern. Spike and Angel might have had their issues but he knew how important this vision could be.
"She hasn't said anything to me," Wesley shook his head, "She hasn't said anything and it's been two days."
"Whatever it is must not be life threatening if she's keeping it to herself so long," Gun pointed out. Which was true, normally if The Powers that Be sent a vision, it meant immediate danger, a demon to fight, an innocent to save. So whatever she had seen was different but either way it needed to be dealt with and not ignored.
"I still say we need to go up there and make her talk to us," the last of their group pointed out. He expected this much from Faith. Always more for action than sitting back pondering, doing nothing was probably driving her crazy.
After Buffy's death, a new Slayer was activated and sent to the Hellmouth but Faith had made considerable progress during her incarceration, so the Council pulled strings and had her released into his custody. So far she had been an asset to the team. When she learned about Angel's disappearence, she had been devastated but it had been her who had pulled them together in the end.
Angel would want them to continue the mission. He did what he needed to do and none of them could blame him for it but now it was time to do finish what they were supposed to do.
Despite their anguish, they knew her words were true and it was hard working through the emotions, guilt, betrayal, forgiveness but they somehow emerged on the otherside. A family still.
"It must be difficult for her," he pointed out.
"Yeah, English, we all know that, but given that The Powers gave her the visions, she can't ignore them."
"We always thought the visions were for Angel, to help him find redemption, to lead him to Shanshu, but this," he shrugged, just as confused as all of them at what this could possibly mean. "Does it mean that the Powers have selected a new Champion?"
"Like I said," Faith began again, "We won't know anything if she doesn't talk to us. Letting her hide isn't solving anything, and we aren't doing her any favors by tippy toeing around her."
"The Slayer's right," Spike agreed, "We've got our own help the helpless thing going here and I'm guessing we must be doing some good. Even get a few paying customers, now and again. These vision things, well, they're a whole other bit and hiding isn't going to change anything. Either Peaches is gone, or he isn't. Either way it's time Cordelia started talking."
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She knew they were downstairs discussing her, knew they were worried about her but she just wasn't ready yet. Part of her was furious. Furious that the Powers wanted to interfere in her life again. It took a lot of work to pull herself back together after Angel and now after years of nothing, they wanted to stick these damned things back in her head.
She wanted to rage, to curse them and say no. She wasn't putting her hat back in the Champion/Seer ring. There was no point. She had lost Angel, lost that beautiful baby that she loved like her own, despite the fact that she didn't give birth to him. Now they wanted to drag her back into those painful memories and make her suffer all over again.
Months of nightmares, of seeing Angel jump into that portal after Holtz and Connor and being helpless to stop him. She hated him for that. Then she felt guilty for hating Angel because how could she blame him. Connor was his son, a child that he never dreamed possible, of course he was going to go after him. But the small selfish part of her wept because he had left her behind to realize too late how much she loved him and mourn his loss.
The lack of visions had seemed proof that Angel was dead. He was gone and no amount of her love was going to change that. Now she was so full of rage and hurt because this new vision gave her hope. And hope had no part of her life anymore.
She rolled from the bed and went to the bathroom to shower and dress, knowing that hiding up here was a coward's way out. The room looked much like when Angel left. His clothes still hanging in the closet, Connor's crib on the opposite wall. Normally the room was closed off because she just couldn't bear removing anything. It would be like Angel had never existed. That she had never loved him, never shared a beautiful baby with him.
One thing was certain, Cordelia Chase was no coward and she was done hiding. Doning her personal armor, a flounce sleeved tee in teal and a pair of low riding black chinos, incorporating her usual style and comfort. She twist her hair up in a knot, put on full face paint and hoped no one could see the cracks of weakness beneath.
By the time she reached the stairs and her family gathered in the lobby, her back was braced with steel and a mask of impertubability was firmly in place. "What is this, an intervention?"
Five pairs of eyes glanced up in her direction, all filled with concern and affection. Even Spike's, she thought with an inner smile.
"Did we need one," Faith always abrupt and to the point asked her and she was actually grateful for it because the last thing she wanted was her family treating her with kid gloves.
"Of course not," she lifted an absent shoulder, "I know I kinda freaked there for the last two days, but you have to admit, getting a vision after five years was a pretty good reason to go all hermit girl."
"So everything's okay," the soft southern twang asked and Cordelia managed not to flinch at the vision of Fred and Spike curled up together. Jealousy was unbecoming. But seeing the souled vampire and the brunette madly in love was sometimes a bitter knife twist to the gut.
"No it's not," she admitted, "But that has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the big bad getting ready to come through a portal from it's little hell dimension." And that got the reaction she knew it would.
"So, a portal hun?" Gunn asked after she had finished telling them about the vision. None of them knew exactly what to make of it. Two kids, one a young boy the other a young adult. Both human, so what were they doing living in a hell dimension?
"Yes," Cordelia sipped from the mug of coffee that Fred had handed her only moments before. "The demon is coming through, there is nothing we can do to stop that unfortunately, which is a bad thing. But the fact is, we have to let it through if we're going to get them out and it's vital that we get them out."
"Are one of boys a Champion?"
And that had been the question that she was dreading answering, so of course Wesley would jump right in and ask it. "I don't know. Possibly. I mean, the visions were always meant for a Champion of the Powers so maybe one of them is going to be a Champion, or maybe lead us to the next Champion."
"So where are we going and when do we leave?" For Faith it was simple. Sometimes she wished she could see things in such black and white terms. Being a Slayer came with no exceptions to rules, no ambiguities. She was a Slayer, a Chosen One. Faith's acceptance of her path is part of the reason why she was shaping up to be a damned good one.
"New York, small city named Port Charles," she muttered.
"Okay, what's wrong with Port Charles, New York," Spike asked and for no reason at all, she wanted to tick him with something sharp and pointy.
"We aren't the only ones going, remember," Cordelia answered, her voice clear with it's displeasure. She didn't know why the people she saw in the vision bothered her, they weren't evil, so that was no excuse. All she knew was that she didn't like the feelings that hummed in the pit of her stomach whenever she recalled their faces.
"So you said, we'll just have to be prepared in any case," Wesley always trying to be the voice of reason.
"You aren't going," Cordelia finally said, "Neither are you Gunn, it's only supposed to be me, Fred, Faith and Spike. Don't ask me why, I don't make the rules, I only pass along the message." And if her voice sounded bitter well too damned bad. She might be the Seer for the Powers but that didn't mean she had to like it.
"Then we should get ready," Fred said after the shock had finally settled. It was clear from the expressions on Wesley and Gunn's faces that they didn't like this but knew enough about the Powers not to go against one of their visions. "We need to book flights out to New York, rent a car, find a hotel. Okay, I'm getting a little overwhelmed just thinking about it. It's a logistical nightmare and we're clearly walking into unfamiliar territory."
"It'll be fine. The Powers would never send anyone into a situation beyond their ability."
"Uh, remember visions that almost blew my brain out the back of my head," Cordelia felt obligated to point out.
"That you weren't supposed to have, if I recall correctly," Wesley countered, "Doyle was to be the Seer. Passing the visions to you was probably quite a glitch in the Powers plans."
"Which they promptly corrected by making you all glow girl," Gunn chuckled, to which she stuck out her tongue.
"Cordelia still didn't say when this was happening," Faith went back to business at hand, "I don't mean to be inconsiderate, but she did do that hermit thing for two days. How much time do we have left before this big entrance."
"Two days," she muttered, knowing that Faith was right and she endangered them all by her inability to cope. "Actually a little more than two, almost three."
"Then we need to be on a flight tonight." Faith stepped up, as Slayers were wont to do, taking charge of the situation now that she knew that Wesley wasn't coming. Fine with her, she didn't want to lead, she didn't want the vision and she didn't want to even be there. "Can't have Spike bursting into flames mid flight. Or in the middle of an airport."
"What are we going to do for weapons?" Fred was right, security in the airports made it impossible to carry a sharp nail file, let alone an axe.
"We'll have to deal when we get there," Faith shrugged, "Bound to be some kind of store there."
"Stakes'R'Us?" Spike joked, which Faith smiled along with, appreciating his dry humor. "No seriously, if we fly into New York and drive into this Port Charles, I have a few connections where we can get some stuff."
"I won't have to kill any of them, will I?"
"Not unless you want to luv," Spike shrugged. "But at least wait until we get the stuff before going all Slay-happy on them."
"Then you should get packed," Wesley stood, displeased about not playing a vital role, but still their leader here in LA. "I'll take care of the flights out as well as the car."
"Oh, joy," Cordelia snarked, her less than enthusaistic voice making them all frown, for which she felt guilty. For about thirty seconds.
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Harrisburg, Pennsylvania
"Damn it Sammy, can we please listen to something other than that crap!"
The annoyed voice came from the back seat, with the same complaint from two hours ago. The soft feminine sigh in the passenger seat, had him turning his head slightly to glance at the fatigued face of the woman who accompanied them. They were all on edge, tired, wounded and hanging on by a ragged thread.
Two days they had been on the road, stopping only for food or to sleep in the car at rest stops. Due to their problems with the law, they had to be extra careful and not draw any attention to themselves, which meant sticking to the crawling speed limit. When all of them wanted nothing more than to slam the pedal to the floor and run the Impala pass a hundred miles per hour all the way to New York.
Sam reached over and turned off the radio, enveloping them in silence. The weather had changed drastically as they passed through states and now he was being cautious of not only cops out to make their quotas, but snow. The dark stretch of highway before them was starting to blur and not even Bob Dylan was going to keep him awake much longer.
"Man we need to rest," he frowned, knowing it wasn't going to go over well.
"We need to keep going," Dean growled from the front seat, "We only have three days and this creeping along shit is taking forever."
"When we get there, we're going to be useless if we don't take a break," Sam hated this, especially that pained expression on Miranda's face. He knew how desperate she was to get Gabriel back and it had to be killing her to hear him say this but he knew it was for the best.
"Look, we pull off the road, get a room for the night. We get some food, take a shower, rest in a real bed and get back on the road at sunrise."
"Sam, I don't want to hear it. We keep going until we reach New York, if you're tired, just pull over and I'll drive for a while."
"He's right." Miranda spoke up before Dean's anger dissolved into an arguement. "You and Sam are hurt."
"I'm fine," Dean instantly refuted but a soft glance over her shoulder had him flicking his gaze toward the window.
"You're hurt, both of you. As much as I want to drive straight through, I know Sam's right. We need to rest tonight. I know Sam said that others are going to be there when this door opens, but I don't know them. I don't trust them. I trust you two. I know you care about what happens to my son. So if I have any prayer of getting Gabriel back, we need to stop and rest."
Dean still didn't like it, but he didn't say anything else, mostly because Sam could practically hear his muscles screaming in agony. Dean could shore up a lot of attitude and hide much physical pain behind it but that wall was going to crumble soon. "We'll get the rooms first, I'll run out and get us something to eat and we'll sit down and talk about what happens next."
And perhaps while he was gone, they would have a chance to talk about the simmering emotions between the two of them. It was obvious their current method of dealing with them, or rather ignoring them, wasn't going to work.