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blue_bellsA belated birthday present for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bob_ette, this is a crossover between Supernatural and Ghost Whisperer and is obviously AU since it was pointed out to me that Dean and Sam are fully aware of Ghost Whisperer as a televised show. I think the original fic plan had amusement parks, but such details were lost to the effects of alcohol consumption (for the shame).
I'm not a big fan of crossovers, but this story might have a follow up with Hellboy and Devil May Cry (because it's been proven to me that you can't have one without the other). This entire thing was written over night and is largely unbetaed, so please tread softly! Apologies if this has already been done in the Supernatural fandom, I don't actually read fanfiction for these guys, though I do write on request :]
» Title: The Referral
» Author:_bluebells | k(at)noiresensus(dot)com | http://www.noiresensus.com
» Fandom: Supernatural, Ghost Whisperer
» Rating: PG
» On Going (WIP)/One-off/Series Name: One-off
» Classification(s): AU, Crossover with Ghost Whisperer
» Warnings: Incoherent spirits
» Pairing(s): None
» Summary: Dean is just full of great ideas.
The Referral [PG]
Why did the stranger things only come out late at night?
If Sam Winchester was going to be visited by any sort of ghoul or demon, he thought six in the evening would be a reasonable time for confrontation. Yeah, six would really be reasonable -- when he was alert and wide-eyed enough to see three feet in front of him and capable of reason. Late nights weren't foreign to him, he had been a college student after all, but hunting all day -- every day -- left him wanting for an early night. If only he could sleep easily (that was another issue entirely).
He had been browsing the state headlines online for any details indicating a possible supernatural incident, when he had felt the person behind him.
Dean.
Sam frowned as the person moved behind his chair. Dean had gone out to buy some marshmallows in lieu of a proper dinner, but Sam hadn't heard the door open to signal his return. His hands stilled on the keyboard.
"Can I help you?" He asked without turning.
The person said nothing and Sam felt a sudden wash of cold like an icy gust had seeped over his skin, despite the layers he wore against the autumn cold. He turned slowly, rising from his chair and nearly jumped at the person he saw.
At first Sam only saw a large set of white, wide eyes that stared so hard at him he flinched. Those startling eyes were set in a dark face marred by filth, blood and his image seemed to shimmer like his frame attempted to move in many ways at once and didn't know which direction to take. He seemed to pull in all the light around him, but Sam could see he wore what looked like army fatigues that were torn and dirty like the rest of him. The man's expression was set in fear, confusion and what Sam thought was a lingering pain.
Sam took a half step back, ready to run -- or sideways sprawl -- if need be. He glanced around the motel room and realised he wasn't sure what he could use against a ghost, especially one so obviously disoriented and up close. For a moment he flashed back to an earlier time when he lay helpless on his back in Dean's car, the apparition of a woman in white morphing and snarling above him. Looking back on things, Sam admitted he hadn't really 'upped' his abilities to combat the ghostly inclined one-on-one.
Crap.
When the man spoke his words were faint as though carried far over the wind. "I don't... where I am." The man stretched out a hand that shook and Sam managed not to shrink back. The man's gaze seemed to go over his shoulder and he looked about the room. "This valley... I... " The man frowned. "No.... "
"Um.... " When the man didn't look at him Sam paused and waved a hand over the man's eyes. Again, he didn't react and Sam began to doubt the man was aware of him. As Sam watched, the man's face contorted in despair and he vanished. Sam blinked and glanced about the room. The man stood hunched before the far window, tracing something on the glass. Carefully inching closer Sam saw the glass had misted and the man was drawing the cardinal points of a compass. The man stared at it for a few seconds and finally circled the arrow directing ‘East'. Problem was, the arrow pointing East actually indicated the North-Westerly direction; Sam wondered if this ghost was taking his impromptu compass seriously.
"You are lost, aren't you?" Sam moved around the man whose image had begun to tremor and looked more displaced the longer he stared at the Eastern arrow. The man lifted his head, scanned the room and finally settled on Sam with a startling intensity that was almost accusing. The ghost advanced a single step and Sam forgot anything he had planned to say as the man's expression fell.
"Help me."
At that moment the door flew open and Dean breezed in, arms laden with brown paper bags. "Hail the conquering hero! I've got plain; I've got strawberry and orange. I even found this mint thing that looked like a marshmallow and last but not least -- " Dean revealed a box with great relish. "Mallomars. Is your brother good, or is your brother the best there ever was?"
Sam hadn't even heard the key in the lock. He looked between his brother and the ghost who hadn't shown notice of Dean's entrance. His gaze was fixed intently on Sam who backed away to shut the door.
Dean threw one of the bags at him and began pulling more items from his own bag, chuckling as he quietly congratulated himself.
"Dean?" Sam drifted to his brother's side and held the ghost's eye.
"Yeah, I didn't forget your vegetables," Dean grumbled, fisting a bag of carrots and celery at him. "You know how much fresh food is at a late night grocer, Sam? Sheesh."
"Dean, look at the window."
Dean paused in scrutinizing his loot and raised an eyebrow at his brother, before doing as he was told. He lingered on the window for less than a second. "What's so important about East? Besides the fact that it's not pointing East?"
Sam finally looked away from the ghost to his brother. "You don't see him?"
Dean finally lost the superior-big-brother look and his gaze narrowed. "There someone here?" That eyebrow arched again as he glanced sidelong at the window. "Inside or out?"
"In," Sam supplied, stiffening as he realized the ghost had suddenly appeared over Dean's shoulder. Both of them looked at Sam intently, but Dean was far less unsettling so Sam nodded at him. "Army type, I'd guess. Staring ri-ight at me."
"What does he want?"
"He's lost."
Dean shrugged. "So, where's he going?"
Sam addressed the question to the ghost whose stared hadn't faltered for a moment. "Where are you trying to go?"
The man tilted his head to the side and looked at the back of Dean's head, finally registering his presence, and then he looked back at the window as his lips moved slowly. "… Have… get home."
Sam sighed. "He's trying to get home, but he's barely coherent. Looks like a really confused spirit." He flinched when the ghost reappeared at his side, practically breathing down his neck, those eyes continued to bore into him. "But I don't think he's dangerous."
"Yeah?"
"Not at the moment," Sam remedied, acknowledging he knew nothing about this ghost, but as soon as the stranger was out of the room he intended to look him up.
Dean looked deflated. "Oh, well.... " He cast a forlorn look at his marshmallow pile. "Can we refer him?"
Sam blinked. "You know someone?"
Dean pulled out their Dad's leatherback tome. "Dad knew some people, mediums and such."
Sam gestured to himself. "Well, Dean, I can see him."
His brother gave him a look. "We settle evil, Sam, we don't counsel the dead."
That was true, Sam admitted and stifled a small sigh. The ghost was still eyeballing him harshly and Sam gave him what he hoped was a reassuring look.
One week later Melinda Gordon was rooted in terror as a dark figure with bright eyes ascended the stairs of her new home. She fought the urge to run, though she stumbled back when he suddenly vanished and reappeared directly before her. "They said you could help me," the man uttered.
The next night she dreamed of running down a corridor with many doors, before she stopped suddenly and flung one open. The dark apparition of the army ghost was waiting for her on the other side, staring at her silently.
"Who told you I could help you?" she demanded, vainly suppressing the hysteria as the man's eyes narrowed and he moved towards her. Melinda awoke with a start and immediately jumped as a figure moved from the shadows towards the bed. She nearly cried in relief when she realized it was her husband and his arms came about her tightly.
With Melinda's help the Vietnam veteran, Sergeant Paul Adams, eventually realized he was no longer among the living. Melinda found his home, his family and the closure he needed to cross over. Several months later his remains were recovered overseas and the Sergeant watched over his son's family as they laid him down to rest.
Melinda eventually concluded the word of her aid to spirits had travelled down whatever grape vine was employed by the dead. She wasn't even sure all spirits could see and commune with each other, but it was the only thing that made sense.
"So, you ever find out who Bob was?" Dean asked one morning over coffee and toast.
Sam didn't recognize the reference. "Bob?"
"Your directionally challenged army brat."
Oh. Sam shook his head regretfully. "Hope he found what he was looking for."
Dean saluted him with his coffee mug. "Any more like him come calling, now you know who to refer ‘em to. Your brother's full of great ideas."
End Note: This story makes reference to the pilot of Ghost Whisperer where Sgt. Paul Adams and Melinda have the above exchange (exact dialogue may not be precisely accurate as I'm working from memory) and she keeps asking who told him she could help. I assumed it was just word of mouth among the ghostlies, but for this instance I pretended the referral came from elsewhere. BTW, Wentworth Miller is pretty terrifying in the pilot's first scenes of the pilot, everyone should go watch it just for him ^-^ Of course, I have ulterior motives -- I'm behind on Prison Break.
bob_ette, this is a crossover between Supernatural and Ghost Whisperer and is obviously AU since it was pointed out to me that Dean and Sam are fully aware of Ghost Whisperer as a televised show. I think the original fic plan had amusement parks, but such details were lost to the effects of alcohol consumption (for the shame). I'm not a big fan of crossovers, but this story might have a follow up with Hellboy and Devil May Cry (because it's been proven to me that you can't have one without the other). This entire thing was written over night and is largely unbetaed, so please tread softly! Apologies if this has already been done in the Supernatural fandom, I don't actually read fanfiction for these guys, though I do write on request :]
» Title: The Referral
» Author:
_bluebells | k(at)noiresensus(dot)com | http://www.noiresensus.com» Fandom: Supernatural, Ghost Whisperer
» Rating: PG
» On Going (WIP)/One-off/Series Name: One-off
» Classification(s): AU, Crossover with Ghost Whisperer
» Warnings: Incoherent spirits
» Pairing(s): None
» Summary: Dean is just full of great ideas.
The Referral [PG]
Why did the stranger things only come out late at night?
If Sam Winchester was going to be visited by any sort of ghoul or demon, he thought six in the evening would be a reasonable time for confrontation. Yeah, six would really be reasonable -- when he was alert and wide-eyed enough to see three feet in front of him and capable of reason. Late nights weren't foreign to him, he had been a college student after all, but hunting all day -- every day -- left him wanting for an early night. If only he could sleep easily (that was another issue entirely).
He had been browsing the state headlines online for any details indicating a possible supernatural incident, when he had felt the person behind him.
Dean.
Sam frowned as the person moved behind his chair. Dean had gone out to buy some marshmallows in lieu of a proper dinner, but Sam hadn't heard the door open to signal his return. His hands stilled on the keyboard.
"Can I help you?" He asked without turning.
The person said nothing and Sam felt a sudden wash of cold like an icy gust had seeped over his skin, despite the layers he wore against the autumn cold. He turned slowly, rising from his chair and nearly jumped at the person he saw.
At first Sam only saw a large set of white, wide eyes that stared so hard at him he flinched. Those startling eyes were set in a dark face marred by filth, blood and his image seemed to shimmer like his frame attempted to move in many ways at once and didn't know which direction to take. He seemed to pull in all the light around him, but Sam could see he wore what looked like army fatigues that were torn and dirty like the rest of him. The man's expression was set in fear, confusion and what Sam thought was a lingering pain.
Sam took a half step back, ready to run -- or sideways sprawl -- if need be. He glanced around the motel room and realised he wasn't sure what he could use against a ghost, especially one so obviously disoriented and up close. For a moment he flashed back to an earlier time when he lay helpless on his back in Dean's car, the apparition of a woman in white morphing and snarling above him. Looking back on things, Sam admitted he hadn't really 'upped' his abilities to combat the ghostly inclined one-on-one.
Crap.
When the man spoke his words were faint as though carried far over the wind. "I don't... where I am." The man stretched out a hand that shook and Sam managed not to shrink back. The man's gaze seemed to go over his shoulder and he looked about the room. "This valley... I... " The man frowned. "No.... "
"Um.... " When the man didn't look at him Sam paused and waved a hand over the man's eyes. Again, he didn't react and Sam began to doubt the man was aware of him. As Sam watched, the man's face contorted in despair and he vanished. Sam blinked and glanced about the room. The man stood hunched before the far window, tracing something on the glass. Carefully inching closer Sam saw the glass had misted and the man was drawing the cardinal points of a compass. The man stared at it for a few seconds and finally circled the arrow directing ‘East'. Problem was, the arrow pointing East actually indicated the North-Westerly direction; Sam wondered if this ghost was taking his impromptu compass seriously.
"You are lost, aren't you?" Sam moved around the man whose image had begun to tremor and looked more displaced the longer he stared at the Eastern arrow. The man lifted his head, scanned the room and finally settled on Sam with a startling intensity that was almost accusing. The ghost advanced a single step and Sam forgot anything he had planned to say as the man's expression fell.
"Help me."
At that moment the door flew open and Dean breezed in, arms laden with brown paper bags. "Hail the conquering hero! I've got plain; I've got strawberry and orange. I even found this mint thing that looked like a marshmallow and last but not least -- " Dean revealed a box with great relish. "Mallomars. Is your brother good, or is your brother the best there ever was?"
Sam hadn't even heard the key in the lock. He looked between his brother and the ghost who hadn't shown notice of Dean's entrance. His gaze was fixed intently on Sam who backed away to shut the door.
Dean threw one of the bags at him and began pulling more items from his own bag, chuckling as he quietly congratulated himself.
"Dean?" Sam drifted to his brother's side and held the ghost's eye.
"Yeah, I didn't forget your vegetables," Dean grumbled, fisting a bag of carrots and celery at him. "You know how much fresh food is at a late night grocer, Sam? Sheesh."
"Dean, look at the window."
Dean paused in scrutinizing his loot and raised an eyebrow at his brother, before doing as he was told. He lingered on the window for less than a second. "What's so important about East? Besides the fact that it's not pointing East?"
Sam finally looked away from the ghost to his brother. "You don't see him?"
Dean finally lost the superior-big-brother look and his gaze narrowed. "There someone here?" That eyebrow arched again as he glanced sidelong at the window. "Inside or out?"
"In," Sam supplied, stiffening as he realized the ghost had suddenly appeared over Dean's shoulder. Both of them looked at Sam intently, but Dean was far less unsettling so Sam nodded at him. "Army type, I'd guess. Staring ri-ight at me."
"What does he want?"
"He's lost."
Dean shrugged. "So, where's he going?"
Sam addressed the question to the ghost whose stared hadn't faltered for a moment. "Where are you trying to go?"
The man tilted his head to the side and looked at the back of Dean's head, finally registering his presence, and then he looked back at the window as his lips moved slowly. "… Have… get home."
Sam sighed. "He's trying to get home, but he's barely coherent. Looks like a really confused spirit." He flinched when the ghost reappeared at his side, practically breathing down his neck, those eyes continued to bore into him. "But I don't think he's dangerous."
"Yeah?"
"Not at the moment," Sam remedied, acknowledging he knew nothing about this ghost, but as soon as the stranger was out of the room he intended to look him up.
Dean looked deflated. "Oh, well.... " He cast a forlorn look at his marshmallow pile. "Can we refer him?"
Sam blinked. "You know someone?"
Dean pulled out their Dad's leatherback tome. "Dad knew some people, mediums and such."
Sam gestured to himself. "Well, Dean, I can see him."
His brother gave him a look. "We settle evil, Sam, we don't counsel the dead."
That was true, Sam admitted and stifled a small sigh. The ghost was still eyeballing him harshly and Sam gave him what he hoped was a reassuring look.
One week later Melinda Gordon was rooted in terror as a dark figure with bright eyes ascended the stairs of her new home. She fought the urge to run, though she stumbled back when he suddenly vanished and reappeared directly before her. "They said you could help me," the man uttered.
The next night she dreamed of running down a corridor with many doors, before she stopped suddenly and flung one open. The dark apparition of the army ghost was waiting for her on the other side, staring at her silently.
"Who told you I could help you?" she demanded, vainly suppressing the hysteria as the man's eyes narrowed and he moved towards her. Melinda awoke with a start and immediately jumped as a figure moved from the shadows towards the bed. She nearly cried in relief when she realized it was her husband and his arms came about her tightly.
With Melinda's help the Vietnam veteran, Sergeant Paul Adams, eventually realized he was no longer among the living. Melinda found his home, his family and the closure he needed to cross over. Several months later his remains were recovered overseas and the Sergeant watched over his son's family as they laid him down to rest.
Melinda eventually concluded the word of her aid to spirits had travelled down whatever grape vine was employed by the dead. She wasn't even sure all spirits could see and commune with each other, but it was the only thing that made sense.
"So, you ever find out who Bob was?" Dean asked one morning over coffee and toast.
Sam didn't recognize the reference. "Bob?"
"Your directionally challenged army brat."
Oh. Sam shook his head regretfully. "Hope he found what he was looking for."
Dean saluted him with his coffee mug. "Any more like him come calling, now you know who to refer ‘em to. Your brother's full of great ideas."
End Note: This story makes reference to the pilot of Ghost Whisperer where Sgt. Paul Adams and Melinda have the above exchange (exact dialogue may not be precisely accurate as I'm working from memory) and she keeps asking who told him she could help. I assumed it was just word of mouth among the ghostlies, but for this instance I pretended the referral came from elsewhere. BTW, Wentworth Miller is pretty terrifying in the pilot's first scenes of the pilot, everyone should go watch it just for him ^-^ Of course, I have ulterior motives -- I'm behind on Prison Break.
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no subject
Date: 2006-04-18 06:43 am (UTC)CROSSOVER!!!!!!!!!!!
I'll go read the fic now...
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Date: 2006-04-18 06:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-18 06:47 am (UTC)Write another now :D
With Dante :DDDD
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Date: 2006-04-18 06:54 am (UTC)I'm going to play more XGRA. Thanks to your training I keep coming first and deathstriking people, but it's starting to get redundant :[
no subject
Date: 2006-04-18 06:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-19 03:58 am (UTC)Killing people is hard! :(
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Date: 2006-04-18 05:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-19 03:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-06 12:13 am (UTC)I loved this! Great work!
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Date: 2007-06-07 03:36 am (UTC)