Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester were density to kill each other, as Lucifer and Michael. However, they wake up in the past, with white hair, gold eyes and no idea how they got there. A Supernatural (End of Season 5)/ Witcher (Season 1) crossover AU.

Chapter 3- Something Wicked

He smelled wood burning, mint, and wildflowers. In a daze, he looked up to a star-filled sky framed by full leafy branches. It was dark, and there was a warm, bright light source to the left of him as he looked around to see the fire burning. He noticed the hoses across the camp resting next to their saddlebags and swords. But he could sense that something was off.

The smell of ozone hung thick in the air. This meant only one thing. Magic was involved in whatever was happening, but he had to justify his brother's awakes.

Sam tried to get off his bedroll. However, his head spun when he tried to move fast as his vision swims in front of him. The world was tilted and skewed.

As the world burled before him. Flashes of black dots crossed his vision. Sam rolled over and looked to his left. Then he saw her.

Jessica. Beautiful, blonde-haired Jessica. Kind-hearted Jessica.

Jessica stood two feet before him, just past the burned-out fire pit. She stood dressed in a long red gown with her shoulders exposed. Her hair flowed freely down the back and was decorated with metal flowers.

Her dress flowed with the wind as she smiled at him. She leaned forward towards him, reaching out with her hand. To Sam, she looked like the reflection of a funhouse mirror distorted and bend out of shape.

"Sammy," she called in a soft tone. "Sammy, your sleepy head, it's time to get up."

"It's time to save the day." She whispered.

"Jessica." He called, "Jessica…. you…. can't." Sam tapered off.

Sam tried to get up again from the ground. "Come on sleepy head let go save the girl."

Slowly but surely, he managed to stand, looking around as he did so for his brother. His brother was passed out across the way. Sam made his way away from the Jessica image and towards his brother.

"Sam, where are you going? The fight is this way." Jessica pointed towards the town. "There a monster to hunt."

"A monster?" He questioned, "There is no monster to hunt here." He managed to amble over to his brothers' side.

"Dean." He shook his brother's shoulder. Dean began to stir but didn't wake to his call. "Dean, wake up, I need your help."

"Sammy, ohh Sammy." Jessica called from behind. "There's a demon girl to be killed." He could feel the chill on the back of his neck.

He turned his head slowly to Jessica, turning not to cause himself to fall over. The Jessica image smiled, but he could remember her smiling like that. She had too many teeth showing, and her smile always had shown in her eyes. When Sam saw her smile, it didn't reach her eyes.

Sam turned away quickly. He became dizzy again and fall forward, almost heading face-first into his brother's chest.

"Don't you want to hunt a demon? I hear it's fun." Jessica continued.

Sam ignored her and focus on his brother. The chills were spreading down his back, he needs his brother, and they needed to get out of whatever this was.

"Dean," he called again. Sam shook his brother's shoulder harder. He saw that his brother stared again longer than the last time, but it seemed that his brother was still locked up in sleep.

"Wake up, Dean!" He managed to yell at last through the fog of his mind.

Dean woke instantly swing at Sam with his famous left hook. Sam knew the Dean was always right to strike when they woke up suddenly.

"Sam? What is it?" Sam managed to miss most of the punch but was clipped by his brother's last two knuckles.

Sam's head hangs back, but he manages to remain sitting by his brother's side. "Dean. I need your help."

Dean looked up at Sam, blinking with a confused look. Sam saw his brother and then looked over Sam's shoulder then back to him.

Dean's confused look didn't change. He looked over Sam's shoulder again.

"Aren't you dead?"

He sensed that something was wrong when he left the tower, but he journeyed on. Stregobor hoped that everything he had hoped for went to plan as he slept. He sighed as he continued forward towards the center of town.

Maria was a perfect child to have around. She could get into places that he couldn't. She was trusted when he was not. Maria had been a good spy, better than he could have predicted. She had been better at distracting others than he thought and placing his hex bags where most would find them until it was too late.

The mage found it odd when the Witchers he sensed did verge into town at first, instead of seeking the aldermen for a bounty to hunt. They remain on the edge of the city, rebuilding an old woman's farm. He noticed that they never stray from their campsite. However, did journey into town for supplies from time to time when they built that barn.

He found them odd and unusual, but it had not been the first uncommon thing he had fallen upon. They were also not his first choice when it came to Witchers, but Witchers these days were becoming rarer and rarer as the decades passed. He would make sure they wouldn't survive his request, and neither would the girl. If the hex bag failed with the Witchers, it would indeed work on the Renfro girl. He had planned it so that each party would soon be at each other's throats.

The hex bag was filled with his best curse, one that had never failed him before. In the beginning, he had tried a simple spell to kill the girl, but that had failed. Over and over, he tried again and again with little results. He noticed quickly that she had learned of his intention and ran whenever he was around, until now.

Stregobor was assured that this time Renfro would die at the hands of Witchers.

As night become morning, he waited for whispers. The townsfolk had always been a good source of information on the happens of the town. This is why he could tell the Witchers were in town so quickly.

He was currently walking into town. There was little going on when he walking towards the center of the city. Usually, the blacksmiths would be working out of the forges, Bakers, and tradesmen drumming up business in the streets. But as if he had cast a silencing spell across the town, the roads were still but not entirely silent.

It was only when he walked past the town inns that he heard the fighting. The clashing of swords and the cutting of flesh. Stregobor soon realized he was walking into a sword fight. He heard someone called out to another at a distance. It sounded like a name called out in the heat of a battle.

He came upon the tail end of the fight. Hearing the thumb of a newly made corpse hit the ground, he heard one of the Witchers called to the other in Elder.

"Sam, get the bags." Who called out exclaimed, well pinning back another swordsman to the wall.

"I got them. Where is the lighter?" The taller Witcher responded. He had noticed that the taller Witcher had other hex bags pin to his belt. Hex bags, he thought he heard very well amongst their things. Apparently, he hadn't hidden them very well.

"Left side of the bag under the blue silk." Responded to the shorter Witcher.

Stregobor, can you watch behind one of the pillars in the road as the taller Witcher walked over to a pile of bags pulling out a small black contraption and a deep silver bowl. With the flick of his fingers and a couple of clicks, a single flame rose from between his fingers. Quickly he licked the bags in his hands as well as the bags he detached from his belt and threw them into the bowl.

He watched helplessly as all of his work literally burned into ash. The wizard watched as the glazed-over expressions of the swordmen fade into recognition.

Both watched and waited to see the effects of the hex bags burning away. The magic read connected them together. When the fog lifted, both Witchers retreated back to one way for the street.

The town folk trickled out into the street to see the battle results as the fighting settles down. Unexpectedly the majority of the swordsman was alive. He expected them all to be dead. Which is were known for their deadly accuracy in swordplay. He was even surprised that Marika was active. To be honest, he thought that she would be the first want to go.

Stregobor looked over the incoming crowd of townsfolk and saw her.

Renfro was alive. This was unacceptable.

"You were supposed to kill her." He told the Witcher, moving quickly through the crowd. From the corner of his eye, he notices her readying herself for a fight. "I paid you." He added.

The shorter Witcher looked at him slightly oddly and questioned the other Witcher. "He paid us?" He paused, turning towards Stregobor, "You never paid us. You keeping going on and going about the fate of the world and what not."

"You were supposed to kill her!" Stregobor was fighting the rise, fear blinding in his chest. "It was the perfect plan." He began whispering as if to himself.

"Are you ok, bud?" Asked the short Witcher again.

"You RUIN everything." He shouted, silencing all the people in the crowd who had gathered.

"YOU." Renfro, "have RUIN everything. You have hunted me my whole life. You have destroyed everything for me." The crowd became restless with whispers.

"I think you want to leave." The shorter Witcher commented. "And I think you should go soon."

Renfri charged the wizard. Stregobor was startled at her reaction. However, the toll Witcher prevented her from reaching him. It had seemed to snap him out of his daydream.

"Calm down." He heard the Witcher whisper to her.

"Killer her!" He demanded. The crowd surrounding him grow tense as the whispers grew louder. "Just kill her! We would all be better for it."

As the soundsof the crowd increase, the fear within him grew to a boiling point. He felt like the world was closing in on him.

"NO." The shorter Witcher announced.

Stregobor felt the change in the air the crows were silenced once more at the Witcher announced. Soon the was a ring of townsfolk and swordsmen around him.

"So you have two options here." Said the shorter Witcher. "You can leave never come back and never hunt Renfri again. If you see her, you walk away, if your sensor you walk away. Understand? And then you option two, you lose you magic. You live, she lives but you have no magic. Get it?"

"But the prophecy, what about that?" He asked.

"Just kill her."

"Enough, just leave her alone." Said the other Witcher. "Just go."

"No."

"Fine." The taller Witcher said. "You asked for this. "

He stepped away from Renfri. Her eyes connected with his as he spoke foreign words.

"Quod magicae necessitudines coniungere ad interficiam te.."

A cold that wasn't there before spread through his fingers and up to his arms. The sparks of magic he could always felt faded, slightly with every word. They were taking his magic away.

"Stop." He whispered.

"Flecte et fregit omnes maledictiones istæ, et duritiam incantatorum tuorum vehementem." Continued the other Witcher.

He tried to force on his hands. On his magic, trying to pull them closer to him.

"No. Stop, I will leave. "Stregobor told him in a panic as the pain increased. He felt as if he was in the middle of a frozen snowstorm. Trapped out in the cold with little feeling in his hand and feet.

"Sit amet egredi aeternum relinquere." Continued the taller Witcher.

"Hoc peto." They ended together. Suddenly the frozen cold left from his fingers and toes, his nose, and the top of his head. He tried to pull that his magic once more as he had done a thousand times before. But it was no longer there. The magic was gone.

To Be Continued…

Translation: Cut the ties that connect you to magic. Bend and brake all your spells and curses. Let magic leave you and abandon you forever. This I ask.