A/N: Hello my wonderful followers, readers, Supernatural and Shadowhunters/mortal instruments fans! This was a very difficult chapter to write. I do sincerely hope Magnus and Alec are In character. Regardless I hope you enjoy. XD
Carry on wayward supernatural fans, and happy patrol shadowhunters.
Dean had stared down the barrel of more supernatural nasties than he could count. From demons to angels, he'd seen it all. But as he faced the creature in front of him, he couldn't help but think that this was the stuff nightmares were made of. It was so ugly, it could make a gargoyle look like a model. And the stench? Let's just say it was enough to make a skunk gag.
As he raised his gun, ready to blast the monstrosity back to whatever dark pit it crawled out of, Andra swooped in like a bossy guardian angel and pushed his arm down. "Hold your horses, Cowboy," she said, her tone a mix of amusement and determination. "We've got this."
Dean shot her a look that could curdle milk, but Andra and her friend marched forward, their confidence a stark contrast to the tension in the air. It was like watching a comedy and a horror movie at the same time, and Dean wasn't sure whether to laugh or run for the hills. But one thing was for sure – he was definitely not getting paid enough for this, In fact he doesn't get paid at all.
The creature let out a bone-chilling screech, and Dean couldn't help but mutter under his breath, "Well, this is gonna be fun." And by "fun," he meant the kind of fun that makes you question all your life choices.
As the creature's claws slashed through the air, Dean and Sam fired their guns, the bullets bouncing off the beast like they were shooting a tank with pebbles. It was like bringing a squirt gun to a flamethrower fight, but hey, at least it was keeping the thing's attention off the ladies.
And speaking of the ladies, Andra and her friend were a sight to behold. They were dancing around the creature like it was prom night, dodging its ugly mugs and swiping at it with blades that looked like they were straight out of a medieval fair. Dean couldn't help but admire their guts. They were like a couple of Valkyries on a mission, and Dean was starting to feel like the third wheel at a monster-slaying party.
He couldn't deny the tension in the air, the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he watched the chaotic dance unfold. His heart thudded in his chest like a bass drum at a rock concert, and he couldn't decide if he wanted to join the ladies in their deadly waltz or run for the hills like a scared rabbit. But then again, Dean Winchester didn't run from a fight. He was a man of action, a hunter through and through.
So, with a grim smile, he steadied his aim and fired again, the sound of gunfire mixing with the battle cries of the women. This was shaping up to be one hell of a night, and Dean was right in the thick of it.
Andra's acrobatic maneuver was nothing short of jaw-dropping. Dean had seen some crazy stunts in his time, but this took the cake. She was like a ninja on steroids, her blade flashing in the city lights as she leaped and flipped through the air like some kind of supercharged gymnast.
The silver object she had used to draw on her arm seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly glow, and Dean couldn't help but wonder what kind of mojo she was cooking up. But then, all thoughts were pushed aside as he watched in awe as she landed on the creature's back, driving her blade down with a ferocity that made Dean's own hunting skills seem like child's play.
Her friend wasn't one to be outdone, stabbing at the beast from the side with a determination that rivaled Andra's. It was like watching a tag team wrestling match, only with a lot more blood and guts.
Dean and Sam kept the creature distracted, their bullets pinging off its hide like confetti, but it was clear that the real show was happening on the car's roof. And as Andra and her friend fought with a fierce grace that left Dean feeling like he was watching a ballet of death, he couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, they might have a shot at taking this thing down.
But then again, this was the life of a hunter – always on the edge of disaster, but never backing down from a fight. And as the battle raged on, Dean Winchester knew one thing for sure – he wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
The ugly thing finally fell to the ground, and Andra stepped off, breathing slightly heavy. Dean and Sam stared at the thing. "What the hell was that!?" Sam exclaimed.
Andra wiped the sweat from her brow, her chest rising and falling with the exertion of the fight. She shot a quick glance at her friend, a silent acknowledgment passing between them before turning her attention to Dean and Sam.
"That, my friends," she said, her voice tinged with a mix of exhaustion and triumph, "was what nightmares are made of."
Dean and Sam exchanged a bewildered look, their expressions mirroring the confusion and disbelief that hung in the air like a heavy fog. "What the hell was that thing?" Sam asked again, his voice echoing the question that hung on Dean's minds.
Andra let out a wry chuckle, the tension of the battle slowly dissipating into the cool night air. "Let's just say it's not the kind of creature you bring home to meet your parents," she quipped, a hint of humor dancing in her eyes.
Dean couldn't help but crack a smile. It was the kind of humor that comes after narrowly escaping certain doom, the kind that made the horrors of the night feel a little less daunting. But as they stood there, the aftermath of their battle surrounding them like a dark shroud, Dean knew that they had all walked away from something that defied explanation. And as he looked at Andra and her friend, he couldn't help but feel a newfound respect for their skills and bravery.
"Alright, well, let's get this ugly thing cleaned up," Dean said, his voice steady despite the lingering tension. "I've got a feeling this won't be the last time we'll be facing off against nightmares." And with that, they began the arduous task of cleaning up the aftermath.
As the women scaned the area, Dean and Sam started digging a grave in a nearby cemetery, his mind drifting back to the conversation he and his brother had.
'Dean paced back and forth in the motel room, his mind racing with the impossibility of their situation. Sam watched him.
"Dean, we need to face it. Our reality has merged with this world," Sam said, his voice laced with concern.
Dean stopped pacing and turned to Sam, his expression incredulous. "What are you talking about, Sam? That's not possible. We're hunters, not... whatever the hell these people are."
Sam shrugged. "I know it sounds crazy, but the evidence is right in front of us. You said that Cas and Jack was still in the bunker, right? If we were the only ones that slipped realities, you wouldn't have been able to call Cas."
Dean's scowl deepened. "Which is why we need to go back to Magnus."
Sam nodded. "He's the only one who might be able to help us figure out what's going on and how to reverse it."
Dean's expression turned sour. "Magnus. Just what we need."
Sam's expression turned firm. "Dean, we don't have a choice. We need Magnus's expertise if we're going to have any chance of fixing this mess. And we need to do it before it's too late."
Dean's jaw clenched in frustration, but he knew Sam was right. They were in over their heads, and Magnus was their only hope. He nodded curtly. "Fine. Let's go see the - whatever he is."'
Once mister ugly was buried, Dean and Sam walked back to the impala. Andra leaned against the Impala's trunk, her arms folded across her chest, a halo of city lights framing her figure in the darkness. Dean couldn't deny the fact that she was a sight to behold – beautiful, tough as nails, and a force to be reckoned with. But as she spoke, her words carried an unexpected weight.
"I wanted to say thanks," she said, her tone carrying a hint of reluctance, as if the words were pulled from her like a tooth.
Dean paused, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he shrugged, gesturing for her to step away from the trunk so he could open it. "No need for thanks," he replied, his voice gruff with the weariness of the night's events. "Just another day in the life of a hunter."
Andra straightened, her gaze meeting Dean's with a mix of determination and something else that he couldn't quite place. "It's not just another day," she said, her voice holding a note of defiance. "I don't take these things lightly, and i don't take help for granted."
Dean met her gaze. Gratitude was a rare currency, but it held a value that couldn't be measured in gold or silver.
With a nod, Andra stepped back, giving Dean the space to open the trunk. As she turned to leave, Dean couldn't shake the feeling that their paths would cross again, and that their shared battles were far from over. And as the Impala's engine roared to life, carrying them into the night, Dean couldn't help but wonder what other horrors and wonders awaited them on the road ahead.
...
Dean followed Sam into the luxurious penthouse apartment, his eyes scanning the opulent decorations with disdain. Magnus sat on a plush couch, a sly smile spreading across his face as they entered.
"Ah, the Winchester brothers. How delightful to see you again," Magnus said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Dean's expression turned hostile, his hands clenched into fists. "We need your help, Magnus. We think our reality has merged with...with this one. We don't know how to fix it."
Magnus raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking to Sam, who stood beside Dean, his eyes pleading for calm. "Ah, yes. Fascinating. And you expect me to help you, after the way you've treated me?"
Dean snorted. "You're not exactly trustworthy."
Sam placed a hand on Dean's arm, his voice low and soothing. "Dean, come on. We need his help. Let's just...try to get along, okay?"
Magnus's smile grew wider, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Ah, Sam. You must be the peacemaker. How...quaint."
Dean's distrust for Magnus simmered just below the surface, but he knew Sam was right. They needed this guys expertise if they were going to have any chance of fixing this mess. He nodded curtly, his jaw clenched in frustration. "Fine. Help us, Magnus. But don't think this means we trust you."
Magnus chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "Oh, Dean. I wouldn't dream of it." He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his eyes fixed intently on Dean and Sam. "Tell me, Winchester brothers, what makes you think I can help you with this...reality merge?"
Sam took a deep breath, launching into an explanation of the strange occurrences they'd been experiencing - the portal that surrounded them, the thing with a face that only a mother can love that they helped defeat last night, the coven of witches that they were on the trail of before any of this happened.
Magnus listened intently, his expression thoughtful, his fingers steepled together in contemplation. "Fascinating," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with interest. "I think I see. You've stumbled into a rather...delicate situation."
Dean's skepticism was palpable. "What are you talking about?"
Magnus's smile grew wider. "Why, the convergence of dimensions, of course. Your reality and the Shadowhunters' world have collided."
Sam's eyes widened. "Can you help us fix it?"
Magnus nodded, his expression turning serious. "I can try. But it won't be easy. And it will require...cooperation."
Dean's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
Magnus's gaze locked onto Dean's, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. "I mean, Dean Winchester, that you'll need to put aside your...distrust and work with me."
Dean's jaw clenched, his expression resistant, but Sam's hand on his arm reminded him of the stakes. He nodded curtly, his voice gruff. "Fine."
Just as Magnus began to nod, a figure emerged from the doorway, steam swirling around him like a misty aura. A young man, his hair damp and tousled, his eyes gleaming with a quiet intensity, walked into the room, his gaze fixed on Magnus.
Dean and Sam exchanged a confused glance, their eyes flicking back to the newcomer. Who was this guy? And why was he walking around in a towel, his chest gleaming with water droplets?
The man's eyes never left Magnus's face, his expression softening into a gentle smile. "Hey, Magnus."
Magnus's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled back. "Alec, darling. Perfect timing. We have guests."
Alec's gaze shifted to Dean and Sam, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in their unfamiliar faces.
Dean's hand instinctively went to his gun, his eyes locked onto Alec's towel-clad form. "Who are you?"
Alec's smile grew wider, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Alec Lightwood. And you are...?"
Sam's eyes darted between Alec and Magnus, his expression cautious. "Sam and Dean Winchester. We're...uh...working with Magnus."
Alec's eyebrows shot up, his gaze flicking to Magnus. "Really? How...fascinating."
Magnus chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "Alec, dear, don't be rude. We have a situation to attend to."
Alec's smile never wavered, his eyes never leaving Dean and Sam. "Of course, Magnus. I wouldn't dream of interrupting."
Dean's eyes narrowed, his voice laced with disdain. "So, Magnus, you're saying?"
Magnus nodded, his expression patient. "Yes, Dean. It's a delicate process, but I assure you, it's necessary."
Dean snorted, his skepticism evident. "And I'm supposed to trust you?"
Alec's eyes flashed with anger, his voice cold. "That's enough."
Sam intervened, his voice calm. "Dean, come on. We need Magnus's help. Let's just focus on fixing this."
Dean's gaze flicked to Sam, his expression unyielding. "I don't trust him, Sam. He's hiding something."
Magnus's smile grew wider, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, Dean. You're so predictable. You think everyone's out to get you, don't you?"
Alec's eyes never left Dean's face, his voice firm. "Magnus is trying to help you, Dean. Show some respect."
Dean's expression turned hostile, his voice dripping with disdain. "Respect? You want me to respect a - Whatever he is? You're kidding me, right?"
Sam's hand on Dean's arm was a warning, his voice low. "Dean, let it go. We need Magnus's help."
Magnus's expression turned thoughtful, his eyes fixed on Dean. "Ah, yes. The stubbornness."
Alec's gaze never wavered, his eyes locked onto Dean with a quiet intensity. "Dean,"
Dean's expression turned sullen, his eyes flashing with anger, but he nodded curtly, his voice gruff. "Fine. Let's get this over with."
Demons. Can't trust 'em. Always scheming, always manipulating. And Magnus is the worst of the lot. Thinks he's so smart, so powerful. But Dean knew the truth. He's just a bunch of tricks and illusions. And now he's trying to help them? Please. Dean didn't think so.
Who was this Alec guy, anyway? Magnus's little lapdog? Thinks he can tell Dean what to do? Dean had been hunting longer than Alec had been alive. He didn't need some young, arrogant young man telling him how to do his job.
But Sam was right. They needed Magnus's help. And Dean needed to keep his cool if they were gonna get through this. But it was hard. So hard. When all Dean wanted to do was punch Magnus in the face and tell him to shut up.
Dean took a deep breath and focused. They could do this. They could fix this reality merge thing and get back to their own world. Without any more help from Magnus or his little friend Alec.
But, man, it was gonna be a long day...
Dean's thoughts were a jumble of frustration, distrust, and determination, his mind racing with ways to get through this situation with minimal damage.