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blue_bells» Title: The Awesome and His Stalking Admirer
» Fandom: Supernatural, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
» Warnings: Crossover, AU
» Pairing(s)/Characters: Dean/Castiel
» Summary: Castiel attempts to convince eighteen-year-old Dean Winchester that he is the next vampire slayer and Castiel is his watcher.
» A/N: Originally written here for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
downfall35 in ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic.
“This is highly unusual.”
Dean twirled the stake in his hand, whipping it in and out of its belt holster as he paced the grave of one late Mister Gordon Walker.
“Not really.”
Castiel was the man who claimed to be Dean’s 'Watcher' – which just sounded like a politer term for stalking admirer – sent by ‘the Council’ to guide Dean on his quest to becoming the best slayer he could be and challenging any hardships that came his way.
Which, apparently, meant coming to terms with the fact that he was not a woman, because Castiel couldn’t move past that.
“Every generation a slayer is born. She will –“
Dean cut him off and pointed with the stake’s sharp end. “Don’t be sexist, dude. There’s no law in Heaven or Earth that says women gotta have it all.”
Castiel stared at him as though he’d spoken in a foreign tongue.
Dean shrugged broadly and tossed the stake to his other hand. “Maybe I’m just awesome? Maybe your court of aged poms got it wrong? I mean, it’s not like I woke up one day and was just… better. This is sort of a family business. It’s what I do.”
Castiel searched the younger man’s face carefully. “That’s convenient. But a Slayer fell and a new one was called. I was called... to you.”
Castiel's eyes narrowed, they were intensely blue. Dean looked away, resisting their weight.
“How many vampires are rising in this cemetery tonight?”
“Three,” Dean immediately answered and stopped, visibly surprised at himself.
“You can sense them, can’t you?”
Dean felt the shiver in the ground as the soil at Mister Walker’s grave shifted.
“… I did my research.”
Eyes on Castiel, Dean hurled the stake down at the headstone and the late Mister Walker startled when it struck him in the chest, still waist deep in Earth. His vampire’s face, contorted by the demon, eased into relief before he collapsed into a cloud of dust. Dean bent to swipe up his stake from the disturbed Earth. He waved it against Castiel’s penetrating stare that read suspiciously smugly, like Dean had just proven Castiel’s point for him.
“That,” Dean gestured insistently at Walker’s head stone, “That was training.”
Castiel paused and curtly nodded at the head stone as well.
“Kick it, as hard as you can.”
Dean’s face twisted in confusion. “What?”
“Go ahead. Kick it.”
Dean regarded the marble epitaph, five inches thick, and figured, what the hell?
He whirled, his boot lashed out with well-practiced aim and the headstone was virtually pulverised.
Dean reeled to Castiel in shock and he barely reacted in time to catch the heavy lead pipe thrown at his head.
“Bend that.”
Dean could barely close his fingers around it. Kicking in stones was one thing, there could have been a vein that weakened the entire structure, but this pipe was thick and Castiel was being ridiculous.
“C’mon, there’s no way I could –“
“Push the two ends together.”
Dean’s palms were sweating. For some reason he was vaguely terrified and he really didn’t want to find out if there was a possibility Castiel was right. Because…
What the hell was a slayer, again?
Dean pushed out a long breath and flexed his strength on the pipe. It bowed almost immediately and he dropped it, cursing, as though he had been burned.
“Son of a bitch.”
Dean rubbed his forehead, paused and glanced down at the pipe. He shut his eyes against the sight and shook his head, rubbing his hands against his face as his head tried to deny, deny, deny.
“I think you are the Slayer, Dean. You’re attuned to the vampire’s energy --"
"I hunt more than just vampires, you know!"
"-- Your strength is far beyond any regular human’s—“
Castiel jumped when Dean’s fist slammed into the trunk he leaned against. The wood cracked impressively and Castiel brushed the powder and wood chips from his face, but the tree did not lean or creak.
Dean stared at the significant wound he’d inflicted on the tree with his bare hand, he could feel sap on his knuckles when he pulled back. A few seconds after that he felt that cell-splitting agony that shot up his wrist to his shoulder and he doubled over with a grimace.
“Fu-uu-uu-uck,” Dean snarled and hugged his throbbing hand to his stomach.
Castiel sighed. “But the Slayer is not invincible. I can see we have a long road ahead of us.”
» Fandom: Supernatural, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
» Warnings: Crossover, AU
» Pairing(s)/Characters: Dean/Castiel
» Summary: Castiel attempts to convince eighteen-year-old Dean Winchester that he is the next vampire slayer and Castiel is his watcher.
» A/N: Originally written here for
downfall35 in comment_fic. “This is highly unusual.”
Dean twirled the stake in his hand, whipping it in and out of its belt holster as he paced the grave of one late Mister Gordon Walker.
“Not really.”
Castiel was the man who claimed to be Dean’s 'Watcher' – which just sounded like a politer term for stalking admirer – sent by ‘the Council’ to guide Dean on his quest to becoming the best slayer he could be and challenging any hardships that came his way.
Which, apparently, meant coming to terms with the fact that he was not a woman, because Castiel couldn’t move past that.
“Every generation a slayer is born. She will –“
Dean cut him off and pointed with the stake’s sharp end. “Don’t be sexist, dude. There’s no law in Heaven or Earth that says women gotta have it all.”
Castiel stared at him as though he’d spoken in a foreign tongue.
Dean shrugged broadly and tossed the stake to his other hand. “Maybe I’m just awesome? Maybe your court of aged poms got it wrong? I mean, it’s not like I woke up one day and was just… better. This is sort of a family business. It’s what I do.”
Castiel searched the younger man’s face carefully. “That’s convenient. But a Slayer fell and a new one was called. I was called... to you.”
Castiel's eyes narrowed, they were intensely blue. Dean looked away, resisting their weight.
“How many vampires are rising in this cemetery tonight?”
“Three,” Dean immediately answered and stopped, visibly surprised at himself.
“You can sense them, can’t you?”
Dean felt the shiver in the ground as the soil at Mister Walker’s grave shifted.
“… I did my research.”
Eyes on Castiel, Dean hurled the stake down at the headstone and the late Mister Walker startled when it struck him in the chest, still waist deep in Earth. His vampire’s face, contorted by the demon, eased into relief before he collapsed into a cloud of dust. Dean bent to swipe up his stake from the disturbed Earth. He waved it against Castiel’s penetrating stare that read suspiciously smugly, like Dean had just proven Castiel’s point for him.
“That,” Dean gestured insistently at Walker’s head stone, “That was training.”
Castiel paused and curtly nodded at the head stone as well.
“Kick it, as hard as you can.”
Dean’s face twisted in confusion. “What?”
“Go ahead. Kick it.”
Dean regarded the marble epitaph, five inches thick, and figured, what the hell?
He whirled, his boot lashed out with well-practiced aim and the headstone was virtually pulverised.
Dean reeled to Castiel in shock and he barely reacted in time to catch the heavy lead pipe thrown at his head.
“Bend that.”
Dean could barely close his fingers around it. Kicking in stones was one thing, there could have been a vein that weakened the entire structure, but this pipe was thick and Castiel was being ridiculous.
“C’mon, there’s no way I could –“
“Push the two ends together.”
Dean’s palms were sweating. For some reason he was vaguely terrified and he really didn’t want to find out if there was a possibility Castiel was right. Because…
What the hell was a slayer, again?
Dean pushed out a long breath and flexed his strength on the pipe. It bowed almost immediately and he dropped it, cursing, as though he had been burned.
“Son of a bitch.”
Dean rubbed his forehead, paused and glanced down at the pipe. He shut his eyes against the sight and shook his head, rubbing his hands against his face as his head tried to deny, deny, deny.
“I think you are the Slayer, Dean. You’re attuned to the vampire’s energy --"
"I hunt more than just vampires, you know!"
"-- Your strength is far beyond any regular human’s—“
Castiel jumped when Dean’s fist slammed into the trunk he leaned against. The wood cracked impressively and Castiel brushed the powder and wood chips from his face, but the tree did not lean or creak.
Dean stared at the significant wound he’d inflicted on the tree with his bare hand, he could feel sap on his knuckles when he pulled back. A few seconds after that he felt that cell-splitting agony that shot up his wrist to his shoulder and he doubled over with a grimace.
“Fu-uu-uu-uck,” Dean snarled and hugged his throbbing hand to his stomach.
Castiel sighed. “But the Slayer is not invincible. I can see we have a long road ahead of us.”
