A Miracles/Supernatural Cross-over
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)
Fandoms: Miracles/Supernatural/Scream Crossover
Rating: Adult17+
Word Count: 55,542 total
Chapters: 1 of 15 (2,555 words this part)
Summary: Dean comes to the realization that the resemblance between Paul Callan and Billy Loomis is significant to the coming Apocalypse, so he tells SQ about the relationship he had with Billy in 1995 and how he tried to save Billy from his downward spiral into infamy.
Pairings: Dean/Billy, Dean/Paul, Dean/Billy/OFC, light Sam/Tatum, Billy/Stu, Party Guests/Other Party Guests (slash, het, het/slash threesomes)
Warnings: **SOME WARNINGS COULD BE TRIGGERING** Spoilers for all three Scream movies. Anal sex, graphic underage sex (all characters are 16), character death (characters who died in Scream still die in this fic), abduction game/simulated murder (to show signs that Billy would in the future become a murderer, I included a scene where he wants to pretend to kidnap and choke a girl to death while having sex with her (the girl he actually does this with is willing to play)), violence, self-harm, suicide attempt, abortion issues, and a couple sex scenes have dubious consent issues.
Beta Thanks: Beta'ed by my friend Sammie. Kudos to her for reading and commenting on this whole thing! Harshini also beta'ed the first couple chapters.
Author's Notes: I stole the last name Macher for an original character of mine in other stories, but she's not supposed to be related to Stu. I have no idea who wrote the Chupacabra song. Some of the names of the party guests come from the actors who played the party guests in the movie. Troy is supposed to be one of the party guests/kids who got expelled in the movie. This story is littered with horror movie/actor quotes/refs and jokes, including the names of all the chapters (thanks to Kaye for helping me come up with movie names). This is a story in a series so there will be references to those past stories. "No One Mourns the Wicked" is also the name of a song from the "Wicked" musical.
There are some AU elements in the story, including: "Afterschool Special" made it seem like Dean didn't get the Impala until sometime after he was 18, but here, he gets it earlier than that; Bill Harvelle is still alive (Jo's journal from the CW website said he died when she was 8 - I don't think the actual show gave us an age); and a season 4 character is used here in an AU way.
Written for crossbigbang.
Chapter 1: A Nightmare on Elm Street
He could get used to this.
For the second time in two days, Dean found himself dreaming of sensual food play with Paul. Lying back on the bed, his dark shirt open, Paul murmured words of encouragement as Dean licked the trail of peach juice off his bare chest, working his way up to Paul's neck.
"Mm... keep going..." Paul said quietly.
"Wasn't planning on stopping." A rivulet of juice had run down the side of Paul's neck. Dean followed it eagerly, feeling the skin under his tongue tremble. Paul's fingers played through his hair.
Laughing to himself, Paul said, "You missed a spot," and squeezed a fresh trickle of juice in the hollow of his throat. Dean didn't say a word, just immediately went for it, slurping and licking. They both let out a small moan of need.
From behind Dean, there came the squeak of a window being raised. Every time that window had been pushed up from the outside, it had made that same noise; Dean recognized the sound instantly. He turned from Paul and looked over his shoulder with a shocked expression.
It was the window in his bedroom in Woodsboro, California. In fact, the whole room had changed into the room Dean had occupied all to himself for nearly a year, when he was sixteen. Somehow, in dream logic, this transformation wasn't as horrifying to him as who was coming in that window.
The bottom of the window was four feet off the floor, with Dean's navy blue footlocker centered underneath it. The teenage boy crawled face first through the open window and placed his hands on the footlocker, bracing for balance. His dark brown hair hung in his face.
Dean heard phantom voices speaking around him. "Are you entertaining guests tonight, Mr. Winchester?" A girl's laughter. "Shh! My dad's home."
Dean looked down at himself, realizing that his body had also gone back in time, shrinking a few inches to his 16-year-old height and build. His body felt a little less developed, his hair a little longer and styled differently; already Dean wanted to tilt his head to toss the flip of hair to the other side. In seconds, the old habits came back, and his hand went to his head to push his hair back, which had gone a lighter shade of blond. Dean caught sight of his reflection in the mirror on the wall and saw a youthful, fresh face he hadn't seen in a long time, not since the weight of a hundred dangerous hunts had marked it with worry lines. Even if those lines were much lighter than he knew they would eventually be, the difference was still startling.
How did this happen, that he was sixteen again? Dean watched, bewildered, as the boy coming in the window raised his head.
He already knew who it was. Only one boy had ever crawled in that window, besides Dean himself.
Billy Loomis.
He took in a loud, sharp breath at the sight of Billy's face. It looked like a younger version of Paul's face in every way, except Dean doubted that Paul had ever had a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead.
Blood ran down Billy's face from the spot where Sidney Prescott had shot him, forming trails on either side of his nose and dripping off his chin. How could he be here now, palms braced on the footlocker that Dean hadn't seen in ten years, when Sidney had put him in the ground almost as many years ago?
But Billy was here, looking at Dean accusingly. "Why?" he asked. "Why did you leave me there to die?"
With a shake of his head, Dean stammered, "I didn't know what was going to happen. But I never thought you'd go that far, Billy. If I'd known that was what you had planned..."
"You should have been there with me, Dean. Not Stu. Loud-mouthed, bumbling Stu." Billy rolled his eyes and sighed. "If you'd been there, I wouldn't be dead now."
Dean shook his head again in disbelief. "I couldn't have been there at your side, Billy. Not with what you were going to do."
Billy snickered to himself. "Come off it, Dean. What are you but a killer?"
"No. Not like that." Swallowing hard, Dean finished, "If I'd been there that night, Billy, I would have been the one to take you out."
"So apparently, it just depends on what you're killing." Billy grinned with blood-flecked lips, lips Dean had kissed more times than he could count. "I knew for years that I was destined for something great. Only problem is, this wasn't supposed to be it. But I think it was pretty impressive." His eyes twinkled with lethal mischief. "Fame fades, but infamy lasts forever."
"Wait... what do you mean, this wasn't supposed to be it?"
Billy grinned again. "Haven't you figured it out yet, Dean? These dreams you've been having about the Apocalypse... I was supposed to be there by your side."
Stunned, Dean just uttered, "What?"
"The Inner Circle." Billy motioned with his head toward Paul. "There aren't very many of us left now. But when you see them, you'll know them." He grinned a smile of murder. "The question is, can you get to them before we do."
"I'll know them when I see them?" Dean repeated. Something compelled him to look behind him, at Paul.
Now sitting up, Paul stared through Dean with eyes that had gone completely white. Dean could make out the round edges of his irises and pupils, but they were the same color as the whites of his eyes. Despite the overall oddness of seeing Billy crawl in his window with a bullet hole in his head, the sight of Paul's eyes still took Dean by surprise, and he gasped.
Paul spoke in the slow, mechanical voice he'd used the other morning, when Dean found him sleepwalking around the apartment. The voice of the Forces. The strangest part was that Billy said the words with him.
"We are all made from the same design," they said.
Dean awakened, his body jerking in the bed as he took a sharp, startled breath. He felt Paul's head, lying on his shoulder, bobble lightly with the motion of his body. Dean watched him for a moment before carefully extracting his arm, which had been cradling Paul against his chest while they slept. Paul scrunched up his face like he was in pain, made a groaning noise, and settled into the pillow. Dean didn't like how deeply he was sleeping, but there wasn't much he could do about it but let Paul rest.
When he stepped into the hall, Dean could smell the bacon cooking. He wondered as he stepped into the kitchen if Sam had peeked into Paul's room and seen them in each other's arms. If he had, he didn't show it. "Mornin', Sammy."
"Hey." Sam used the spatula to push a plate of eggs and bacon toward his brother. "Have some of my breakfast of guilt."
Although he knew the guilt had nothing to do with him, Dean gladly took the plate and immediately started eating a piece of crispy bacon. "Your guilt is delicious."
Sam let out a small laugh.
Sitting at the table, Dean began, "Sammy, you know Paul wouldn't want you to feel guilty about what happened last night. The way it - "
Sam put up a hand to tell him to stop. "Dean, you know if it had been your pain he took away, you would feel bad. So don't even, okay?"
"Okay." Dean salted his eggs. "But just so you know, the eggs and bacon were supposed to be for the orphans that Paul takes care of on Thursdays."
Stopping, Sam dropped the spatula on the stove and looked up at the ceiling. "What? Are you - " He noticed the grin on Dean's face. "You..." Sam threw an eggshell from the bowl at his brother. "Ha, ha."
Dean just chuckled. After eating some of his eggs, he said, "You might want to hold off on making Paul's breakfast. He's not up yet. I think he needs to sleep it off."
"The smell of the bacon didn't wake him up too?"
"Nah. He's sleeping pretty deeply."
Sam thought he knew why. "God. Now I feel even more horrible."
"Don't worry, Sam. He'll be okay." I hope, he added to himself.
Sam came over to the table with his own plate, piled with eggs and bacon. "Yeah, I guess."
Knowing there wasn't much else he could do to make his brother stop feeling guilty, Dean did the one thing he could do to try to get him to stop dwelling on it - he changed the subject. "Actually, it wasn't the bacon that woke me up."
"No? Usually if I wave some fried pork under your nose, you'll sit bolt upright in bed."
Dean let that one go by without a comeback. "I had another dream, Sam."
The smile fell from Sam's face. "The Apocalypse again?"
"Not exactly. It was, ah... it was about Billy Loomis."
"Billy Loomis? Why - well, we were talking about him the other day," Sam commented with a shrug. "He was on your mind."
"Yeah, that's true. Still, it was weird. It was almost like it wasn't just a dream." Dean, thinking about it, fell silent for several moments. "Like... Billy himself was trying to send me a message. His ghost."
Sam considered this before asking, "What did he say?"
Dean took a second to edit the dream in his head. "Paul was there, and we were... talking... and then Billy came in the window, and the room changed. It became my bedroom in Woodsboro."
"What room was it before, when you and Paul were... talking?" As soon as Sam said it, he wished he hadn't, but only a little. The brief look of panic on Dean's face made him feel smug and guilty at the same time. He took a moment to wonder how long this game of 'I know more than you think I do' was going to go on before either he let Dean off the hook or Dean just admitted what he and Paul were really doing when they were supposed to be 'talking.' "I mean, were you in another room or something?"
Until Sam had continued, Dean thought maybe he knew more than he was letting on. The way he mimicked Dean's pregnant pause... "No. We were talking here, in Paul's apartment. And... Billy had a bullet hole in his head."
Sam sucked air in through his teeth. "Ooh, harsh." He knew that Dean agreed with what Sidney Prescott had done to protect herself and the other survivors of Billy's three-day massacre, but that couldn't be an easy thing for Dean to see. Such haunting sights in Dean's dreams had to be a byproduct of the guilt he felt. Resisting an urge to reach out and hug his older brother, Sam repeated, "What did he say?"
"Well... first Billy said that he actually wanted me by his side when he killed all those people, instead of Stu Macher. I guess he thought because we were a hunting family that I'd have no problem killing innocent people as well." Dean made another one of those thoughtful pauses. "I guess he didn't know me at all."
"You told him... what we hunt?"
Absorbed by the emotions swirling through him at the memories, Dean didn't realize what Sam was asking at first, but after a moment, his head snapped abruptly in Sam's direction. "Oh... I never told you that?"
"No." Shaking his head, he added, "Dean, you haven't really talked about it much at all."
"Oh. Uh... there came a moment when it just made sense to tell Billy the truth, so I told him that Dad hunted monsters. That monsters were real." Dean shrugged awkwardly.
Considering his body language, Sam sighed and huffed, "I know you're not telling me everything."
"Sammy... it's a story for another time. Okay? Stop getting me off the subject." Dean picked up some bacon, giving his hands something to do, and chewed on it. "Anyway, Billy said that originally he was supposed to be by my side, and that it had to do with the Apocalypse and something called the Inner Circle."
"That phrase was in your last dream. It's significant."
Dean nodded. "It seems so. He told me that there weren't many of them left, and he was going to get to them before I did."
"Many of who left? The people in this Inner Circle?"
"It makes sense, doesn't it? Then... I turned to Paul, and his eyes... they'd gone completely white. I could see the outline of his pupils and the colored part," Dean made circles with his finger in front of his eye, "but the rest was white."
"Freaky," Sam commented. "Like light was coming out of his eyes?"
"Yeah. Yeah, that's a good description of what it looked like." Another thoughtful pause. "Paul spoke in that voice that he used when he was sleepwalking the other day, the spookyass, mechanical voice, and he and Billy said together, 'We are all made from the same design.' What do you think of that?"
"'We are all made from the same design'..." Sam repeated, thinking it over. He didn't want to state the obvious, but it did seem the most logical answer.
Dean said it instead. "All the members of the Inner Circle look like Paul."
Nodding, Sam added, "It would explain why Billy and Paul look so much alike." They were both quiet for several seconds, wheels turning in their heads. Sam said what they were both thinking first. "There are more of them out there. These doppelgangers."
Dean nodded vigorously. "And Billy's going after them. Somehow, they need to be there when the Apocalypse comes. Billy was supposed to be on our side, but he was... he was turned."
"Like Chad Goodwell."
Dean didn't say anything, just nodded absently as he tried to decide how to handle the situation. "As much as I hate to admit it, we need Keel in on this. He knows a lot about the occult, probably as much as Dad." He started to shovel what was left of his eggs into his mouth. "You stay here and look after Paul. I'm going down to SQ to let Keel know what's going on. He wants to interview me anyway."
Sam understood most of what his brother had said around mouthfuls of eggs, but he still looked confused. "Shouldn't I go too? It was my vision last night."
"Let's not give the man too much info at once, okay? I'll talk to him first, and you can fill in the details tonight." Dean chugged a small glass of orange juice. "I'm going to get dressed; you finish your breakfast."
Although he sighed, Sam could see Dean's point, and stayed right where he was. His brother had a novella of things to talk over with Alva Keel. Things they hoped an older, more experienced adept could sort out.
Dean peeked his head back into the kitchen. "Oh, one last thing," he said, and then burped, "See ya."