Birthright
By Marz1
Chapter 1
Disclaimer: I don't own the Winchesters, or the X-men, or their respective verses. They belong to Kripke, Stan Lee, Fox, and Disney? This may be an incomplete list. I am not on it.
Warnings: Rated T for teen because there are demons and racists and angst and swearing! There is also violence, because the Winchesters are involved.
There is a longer Author's note at the end of this chapter, but for starters; this story features teenage Winchesters, and the first series of X-men movies, so the times lines have been tweaked a little.
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Nebraska…
They pulled off the highway and followed a narrow two-lane road through endless fields of corn. Sam's nose was running nonstop and his eyes were itchy and swollen. Dean had teased him about being a crybaby for a few minutes, but Sam was so obviously miserable, Dean quit even without their father calling him off.
They came to a dirt road, blocked off by a cattle gate. There was a man in a grubby t-shirt and jeans leaning against it. The man had a rifle on his shoulder and a cowboy hat pulled down over his eyes. Their father rolled down the window as the man approached the car.
"Wilson sent us," their father said.
"Did he now?" the man asked. "To sell or buy?"
"Buy," their father said, taking an envelope off the dashboard and folding back the flap to show off the stack of bills inside.
"You got I.D.?" the man asked, looking in through the window at Sam and Dean.
"No," their father said.
"Good," said the man.
He walked back to the gate and swung it open. They drove onto a dirt road, still surrounded by corn. It was another half hour of corn before they pulled into a gravel lot with a dozen beat-up trucks and a couple of campers. There was also a broken-down tractor, on which a group of small children were climbing. Sam wouldn't have thought it that strange, except a couple of the kids had shaved heads with swastikas drawn-possibly tattooed-on the backs of their bald little skulls.
"Dad-" Sam started.
"I see them," his father said. "It doesn't require you mentioning it."
"What kind of place is this?" Sam asked.
"I told you before, it's a place where we are getting supplies," he said.
"You didn't say we were going to Nazi boot camp," Sam said.
His father turned in his seat and glared. Sam hated himself for the way he flinched back. "God damn it, Sam, we are here to buy guns, not sign up. These people will sell to anyone, not just Hunters like us. It's not just neo-Nazis out here. There are three dozen other kinds of nut jobs and I don't need you saying something that'll get us all shot. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," Sam said, lowering his eyes.
"Good. You're going to be watching the car. Anybody tries anything, you honk the horn to signal us, or you shoot them, understood?" his father said.
"Yes, sir."
"And if anybody tries to talk to you, you have no opinions about anything, got it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Move it, Dean, I want to get this over with as quickly as possible."
"Yes, sir," Dean said, with a lot more enthusiasm than Sam could ever put into those words. He gave Sam a sympathetic pat on the arm.
His brother and his father climbed out of the car and marched over to the dilapidated barn at the far side of the gravel lot. Sam kept his eyes peeled and his hand on the pistol his father made him carry. Fifteen minutes passed in dull, corn-scented silence. Sam looked at the other cars in the lot, trying to figure out from their bumper stickers what part of the lunatic fringe they belonged to. Some had religious radio station call letters, others had white supremacist logos, or slogans about keeping the border closed. There was a sticker on one of the camper that said "Friends of Humanity". As he watched, the camper moved slightly, rocking on its shocks.
Something about the camper really bothered him. He couldn't explain it, but he had an almost uncontrollable urge to investigate it.
"There's a demon in there," a child's voice said.
Sam very nearly shot a hole through the floor of the car. He hadn't seen the boy sneaking up on him, but now his face was less than a foot from Sam's, looking in the window. Sam gulped. The boy was probably eleven or twelve, at least a couple of years younger than Sam. The boy grinned and showed off a chipped front tooth. Sam didn't see any swastikas on him.
"A demon?" Sam asked.
The boy nodded. "It's got cloven feet and it can freeze you just by looking at you. You want to see?"
"Won't it freeze me?" Sam asked.
"Naw," the boy said. "They taped its eyes shut. It looks like a girl mostly, except for the hands and feet."
"I'm not supposed to leave the car," Sam said, trying not to sound like too much of a dork.
If it was a demon his father would want to know, but he would not approve of Sam investigating on his own. The trailer was right out in the open, too, so his father would see him right away if he came out of the barn. And if it really was a demon, couldn't it escape from a camper?
"It's right there," the boy said. "It'll take like a minute."
"Yeah, alright," Sam said.
He flicked the safety on and put the pistol in his waist band. The boy didn't even comment on the gun.
"I'm Todd," the boy said.
"Sean," Sam lied, as he closed the door of the car.
"You Irish or something?" Todd asked suspiciously.
Sam shrugged. "Don't know."
"Whatever, c'mon," Todd said, trotting across the lot to the camper.
Sam looked over to the tractor where the kids had been playing before. They were gone. A heartbeat later, gun fire cracked the air. Sam dropped to one knee and drew, trying to find the source. Todd looked back at him, smirking.
"They're just testing stuff on the range behind the barn," Todd said. "They got in a load of machine guns. My dad's here to get an AK-47 or something. Hurry up. Before they come back."
"Before who comes back?" Sam asked.
"The FOH guys. It's their camper and they're major assholes," Todd said.
Todd jogged the last few yards to the camper and climbed up on the bumper to peer in a window. He cupped his hands around his face and pressed his nose to the glass. A moment later he hopped away and waved Sam forward.
"It's in there, look."
Sam was tall enough that he didn't need to stand on the bumper to see in. He pressed his face to the glass. There was straw all over the camper floor and a dog dish with cloudy water in the middle. He didn't see any lines of salt or sigils to keep a demon trapped.
"Do you see it?" Todd asked.
"No." Sam said.
"It's against the wall on the left. It's trying to hide in the hay."
Sam looked to the left and started. He saw "it" now. "It" was a girl, naked and curled up on her side. She had tried to bury herself in the straw, but there wasn't enough to really hide her. He couldn't see her hands, they were behind her, but he could see her legs. Her ankles were shackled together. He could see her feet very clearly. They weren't cloven. They were just deformed. Each foot had only two large hook-like toes. Sam had seen a picture of feet like that in the biology text book of the last high school he had attended.
"I don't think that's a demon," Sam said. "I think it's just a person with birth defects."
"You mean like a mutant?" Todd asked.
"Uh, yeah," Sam said.
"That's pretty much the same thing though, isn't it?" Todd asked.
"I don't-"
Sam's explanation was cut off by another burst of gunfire.
"That sounded like the AK!" Todd shouted, taking off past the camper and heading for the barn.
Sam looked back at the Impala. He looked around the lot again. No one would see. He made up his mind, and took the lockpicks out of his pocket. He didn't let himself think about it. If he did, he would worry about what his father would say…what his father would do if he did not agree with Sam's actions.
His brain switched over to autopilot. He could pick a lock blindfolded and with his hands cuffed behind his back. In broad daylight, the crappy tumblers didn't stand a chance. The door opened with a squeak, and Sam tensed and looked around, but no one came running.
"Hey! Girl! Wake up!" he hissed.
She didn't move. She could be asleep or unconscious, but he'd seen the camper shake only a few minutes earlier. She was probably playing possum. Sam wondered if it was so he would leave her alone, or so she could lure him in. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small flask of holy water. He unscrewed the cap and flicked his wrist. A neat row of droplets flew from the flask onto the girl's foot. They didn't burn her skin or even smoke. Her toes twitched a little, but she didn't otherwise react.
"I'm trying to help you!" Sam hissed. "Can you understand me? They could come back any minute!"
She still didn't move. It occurred to Sam then that if she had one birth defect she might have more. She might be deaf or something. He leaned into the camper, but couldn't quite reach her. He leaned back out and looked around. There was still nobody there. Swallowing his nerves, he crawled inside. The trailer reeked of urine and vomit. He felt something soaking through the knees of his jeans.
He reached out to shake her, to get her to sit up and look at him.
His hand touched her knee.
He couldn't scream. He was trying so hard but his throat was locked up and he couldn't get any air. Screaming wouldn't do him any good. They were going to tear him up and beat him and burn him and no one was coming to save him because they were all dead. And it was his fault. He'd gotten them all killed. Tears burned his eyes. Now they had him and he was all alone and they were going to take their time…
A shoulder bumped him hard and he fell on his side. The desire to scream faded but the other horror remained, echoing in his head as he got up. He was shaking so hard he could barely get his hands and knees under him. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and saw the girl was looking at him. She had short dark hair and her eyes were both purple and bruised. They were not taped shut.
"Will you still help me?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.
"W-what was that? What are you?" Sam asked.
"I don't know," she said.
Sam reached a shaking hand into his pocket and took out one of the rosaries Pastor Jim had given him.
"Hold this," Sam said.
She half turned around for it since both hands were chained together behind her. Each one had one finger and one thumb and all of the digits were too thick and bent in too many places. The sliver cross on the rosary touched her. Nothing happened. Sam nodded and brought out his lockpicks again. He tried very hard not to touch her again, scared by what happened the last time. Despite his caution his fingers brushed her wrist as he got the first shackle off.
He might make it. Maybe he could trust him. He was obviously a religious nut job, but maybe he really was going to help. Or maybe he was just going to burn him at the stake.
Sam shook himself free. She was staring at him, still holding the rosary. He realized now that there was dried blood all over her back and her skin was a patchwork of bruises. He got the other shackle off her wrist and started work on the one's trapping her ankles. It took all of thirty seconds.
He crawled back to the door of the camper and looked out. The coast was still clear. He climbed down. She crawled after him, but paused just inside. He thought she might've seen something, but he looked all over and saw nothing. He was about to demand she hurry, but paused. Thinking he had figured out the problem, he took off his jacket and handed it to her. She put it on with shaking arms, but still didn't get out.
"I can't walk far," she said.
"It's just to the black car, right there," Sam said, pointing to the Impala.
She nodded and started to climb out, but she lost her grip on the door frame and started to tumble. Sam caught her, trying to touch only the jacket. He didn't succeed and his head was once again awash in confusing thoughts.
The sun is so bright. Everything is tilting. That's not his car. There were others. There was a father and a brother. The father was terrifying.
"He's not terrifying," Sam muttered, adjusting his grip so he was only holding her under her jacket covered arms. "Come on."
He hustled her across the gravel to the open door of the Impala and all but shoved her in. He looked back and saw the camper door was open, and there was a trail of straw that they had shed on their short journey. It led straight to the Impala.
"Shit," Sam gasped. "Lay down on the floor!" he told the girl.
Sam closed the door of the car almost all the way and then sprinted back to the camper. He pushed the door closed and heard the lock catch a second before he heard the running footsteps. He dropped to the ground and rolled under the camper. A moment later a half dozen small legs passed through his field of vision. They didn't stop at the camper, but continued on down the rows of cars. He crawled back out of under the camper and started scooping up the straw, duck-walking back towards the Impala, collecting straw along the way. When he had all he could find, he stood up, and rushed towards the rows of corn at the edge of the lot. He dumped it into the loose earth and rushed back.
He didn't rush fast enough.
His father and Dean were coming out of the barn. Dean had a duffle and long rifle in a soft case strapped over his shoulder. His father's hands were empty, but his eyes were locked on Sam like a laser sight. Sam froze with his hand on the Impala's door. His father marched right up to him, and got into his personal space. Maybe the girl was right. John Winchester was terrifying.
"I told you to stay in the car," his father growled.
Sam gulped. "I kept it in sight, Sir."
"Sammy? You been crying?" Dean asked as he finished stuffing their new weapons into the trunk.
Before Sam could deny it, his father had grabbed his face and tilted his head up. Sam thought he had wiped his face clean but there must have been traces. Sam gulped. He saw his father's nostrils flare.
"Are you hurt?" his father asked.
"No, sir," Sam said.
"What happened?" his father demanded.
"I'd rather not discuss it here, sir," Sam said.
"We got trouble coming?" he asked.
"Not yet," Sam said. "But maybe soon."
His father nodded. "Get in the car."
Sam got in the back, while his father and Dean took the front seats. Sam let his eyes drift to the floor space behind Dean. He could see a bunch of stuff piled up on the floor, old fast food bags, back packs, and books. Under the pile he could see a little bit of his jacket. The girl was very good at hiding. The engine started with a deep growl. His father started to back out but slammed on the brakes. Sam whirled.
They had almost hit a small pack of children who had been running through the lot. Sam exhaled. And his father got them moving again. They rolled out of the lot and back into the corn. Sam rolled down his window a little despite the pollen and listened. He could hear gun fire very faintly over the sound of the engine, but no particular sounds of alarm. They passed the same guy guarding the cattle gate on their way out. He didn't look at them any more suspiciously then he had on their way in. When they pulled back onto the highway he worked up the nerve to speak.
"What are the 'Friends of Humanity'?" Sam asked.
"Some kind of eugenics group," Dean answered. "They claim all the problems in the world are caused by mutated humans, and that humanity has to be purified or some shit. They're pretty much neo-Nazis except they pick on kids with extra fingers instead of people with dark skin. It's not like mutants can really do anything. Most of the crap they blame on them is probably demons and witches."
Sam felt something in his chest relax. It seemed like Dean didn't have anything against mutants. Sam was about to speak when his father's voice cut through his calm.
"That isn't entirely true, Dean," their father said. "Mutants can be as dangerous as anything we hunt, more so in some ways. They don't leave traces like demons do. They don't follow patterns like Windigos or werewolves. They aren't all evil, but they are just as dangerous."
"Aw, come on, Dad," Dean said. "What about that mutant chick with three boobs in Total Recall?"
Their father did not look amused. "The FOH, they do something to you?"
"No sir," Sam said.
"Did they see you do anything?" he asked.
"No sir," Sam said, not quite sure what that meant.
"What were you doing out of the car, disobeying orders?" his father demanded.
"A boy came up to the car and told me there was demon chained up in the back of that FOH camper parked behind us. I went to look," Sam said. "It was just a girl. I let her out."
His father didn't slam on the brakes or anything like that, but Sam still felt like the front seat had hit him in the face when he saw his father's expression.
"How do you know she wasn't some kind of monster?" John asked. "Your brother and I were coming right back. You know you should have waited. How could you do something so stupid? You just let something loose with all those kids running around? And if the FOH caught you breaking into their car you think you'd still be breathing?"
"I didn't let some thing loose. I let a girl loose, and nobody deserves to be beaten and chained up like an animal just because they were born short a few toes!" Sam said.
"And you know for a fact that was the only thing off about it? Its toes?" John said, obviously angry, but still in control of himself.
"We didn't have a long talk or anything, but she didn't react to holy water, or silver," Sam said.
"So what happens next, Sam? You really think she'll make it out of there? She'll either get lost in the cornfields and die there, or the FOH will catch up to her and she'll tell them who let her out," John said.
"Or she'll catch a ride out in a '67 Chevy Impala," Sam said.
He knew saying it like that, with that much attitude would just make things worse, but he couldn't seem to keep his mouth from moving. This time his father did slam on the brakes.
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Author's Notes: This is a Supernatural and X-Men movie 'verse crossover, but it has a Winchester family focus. The first half of the story will be very Impala-centric with assorted cameos. Originally Rogue was going to be a big character in this story, but I ended up replacing her with an OFC, because Rogue just wasn't working with the plot. Hopefully my OFC won't end up a Mary Sue, or shot in the face by John Winchester. Also, timelines have been adjusted a bit to make the story work, and this does not take into account any Days of Future Past time travel. Reviews are always appreciated.
