Liv. (darkmagic_luvr) wrote,

spn/ff: Help, I'm Alive 10/?

Title: Help, I’m Alive 10/?
Author: Liv darkmagic_luvr
Fandom: Supernatural/Firefly
Characters: all of the above
Rating: R
Warnings: general spoilers.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural or Firefly. Any characters you don’t recognize are original and should not be used without my permission.
Chinese - tsway-niou - bullcrap; go tsao de gos se - dog humping crap; āiyā - god/oh my god

part 1|part 2|part 3|part 4|part 5|part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9

Simon sat on a toilet in the bathroom with the door locked and the water in the sink running on high. He had his head in his hands and his fingers twined around his hair tightly. He was trying not to pull it out, but every now and then the sobs in his chest were just too much to control and he would pull just a little too hard and the roots would snap. He swallowed, sniffing hard a few times to try and ward off the snot threatening to run down his upper lip.

The man outside - not the one pounding on the door to get him to ‘get his fuckin’ ass out of the god damn head or I swear I’ll break it down’, but the freakishly tall one with the stupid hair - had been with his sister. Somehow, someway, he had been with River. Simon didn’t quite know if he believed everything those three outside had told him about the dream world River had created with Sam, but it was the most….logical explanation. Tsway-niou that it was it made the most sense than anything else he could come up with.

And Sam had more than admitted to a relationship with his sister.

A flash of rage constricted his chest and Simon fought back a scream. He ripped his hands out of his hair and pressed his fingers against his eyes, as if he could push the tears back into his body.

Dean - the shorter one with the gun - once again started pounding on the door, but it sounded so halfhearted this time. Simon listened to the knocking stop and Dean sighed. Another thump followed and Simon pictured Dean’s forehead hitting the closed door.

“Look,” came Dean’s soft voice from the other side, muffled by the wood but Simon could hear him clearly. “I don’t know where your from. All I know about your slice of reality is of what your sister has told Sam. I’m not trying to be a dick or anything, but you should know that my brother comes first for me. And…(another sigh) from how you reacted to Sam knowing your kid sister, I’m guessing you feel the same about her. I’m not going to pretend this isn’t fucked up, but if you come out of there I can try and explain what it is you did to wind up here. What do you say?”

Simon felt like answering. He really, really did. But there was the fear around his heart that prevented him from speaking. What if Dean was right? Then this was all his fault, and he might never get home. River was pregnant and alone and the last thing he had said to her…it hadn’t been right. He hadn’t been right.


He stood up quickly, not bothering to try and compose himself as he reached for the door and jerked it open. Dean stumbled slightly, proving he had been leaning against the door listening inside, but he straightened up quickly. His face twisted in confusion, his eyebrows furrowing as he took in Simon’s appearance.

“You look like hell.”

Simon ignored him. “How do I get back.”

Dean snorted. “It’s not that simple man. The way you got here-”

“I don’t give go tsao de gos se about how I got here,” snarled Simon. “I just want to know how to get back.”

Dean didn’t blow up the way Simon thought he would. Instead he deflated; his shoulder’s slumped and he dropped his eyes to the ground. He sounded generally sorry when he spoke. “You can’t.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean I can’t?”

Dean reached up to rub his forehead, sighing sharply. “The thing you did to get here - that thing you can’t remember - was a deal you made with a hell demon.”

Simon couldn’t hold back the snort of disbelief or the eye roll. “This? You’re not serious.”

“You got a better explanation?” snapped Dean.

Simon shrugged. “Science? Head trauma, a hallucinogenic maybe-”

“This is real.”

“You don’t know the kind of drugs I have access to,” said Simon, shaking his head wistfully. Dean huffed and flicked his eyes away, and Simon watched the wheels turn in his head before he took the moment of silence to really think about what Dean was saying. Earlier, Dean had called what had done this to him a crossroads demon, and everyone seemed to be blaming him for the current situation.

Simon thought hard, relieving every detail he could remember before he blacked out. Like earlier, the only clear thing that came to mind was watching River pace back and forth in the med bay. He closed his eyes, lifting a hand to press against his eyes as he concentrated harder, but the dull throb of what he had thought was a broken nose (he’d checked and it was only bruised, but that didn’t help the pain any) kept distracting him.

Dean’s voice broke through his concentration. “Dude listen, whatever’s happened you can’t blame yourself completely. These women are tricky bitches and they’ll do anything to make a deal.”

Women. Simon’s eyes snapped open in horror, the image of a curvy mechanic flashing through his mind and the memories of his last moments on Serenity came rushing back to him.

“I can help you, Simon, so you can place blame where it’s due.”


Dean blinked at Simon a few times, shifted on his feet and cleared his throat. “Ah…sorry?”

“Kaylee…” breathed Simon, not hearing Dean at all as the panic rose up inside him. “It was Kaylee!”

Simon shoved Dean out of the way, rushing past while Dean frowned after him. “Who’s Kaylee? She sounds hot.”


Every now and then the shouting from inside Missouri’s place would reach peak and you could easily hear Dean’s voice along with the sound of flesh pounding against wood. There was still blood on the sidewalk, dried now, the off brick-red color standing out like a dark spot.

John twisted his hands around his steering wheel, gripping the leather tightly as he kept his eyes on the house across the street. Dean’s voice echoed through the cab, ringing in his ears even though he’d already memorized every one of his son’s messages. Sammy was in trouble. They’d gone to Bobby and now to Missouri, and if that woman couldn’t fix it then he might just have to intervene.

John had watched that well dressed man who’s body belonged to the blood on the sidewalk appear out of thin-god-damn-air. He’d felt something when it had happened, it had sent a chill down to his bones - coupled with the sound of Sam’s screaming from inside the house.

It had been enough that John was halfway out of his car before he realized something was wrong with the world, and he wouldn’t be any good barging in on his son’s problems without a fix to the situation. So he’d sat his ass back down and waited. Ten painful minutes of white-knuckling the steering wheel before the man lying on the ground began to stir.

Then he got the first glimpse of his boy in months, and it was a drink of cool water or a shot of whiskey through his veins. Dean looked mean and down right furious at whoever this man was, and John was starting to feel more and more glad that he’d kept to his car.

But two hours later and he was still sitting in that car, his eyes glued to the front door of Missouri’s house waiting for Sam or Dean or hell even Missouri to realize he was out there. It might have been asking to much to be noticed, but he wanted - needed - to make sure they were all right in there.

He’d give it ten more minutes. Then he was going in.

“Hello John.”

His blood froze in his veins. That voice, smooth and deep and smug. It rang in his ears and made his stomach churn. John turned his head slowly, keeping his face as impassive as possible, even though he knew the demon could probably smell it like a dog.

“What do I owe the pleasure,” he snarled, his jaw clenched so tightly it sent shooting pains up the side of his face. He received a slow smirk in return. John’s skin flashed hot and he wanted painfully to bolt from the car (or sucker punch the smug fuckin’ bastard in the mouth).

“I see you’re the same coward as ever, John. Haven’t your boys waited long enough?”

“You go right to hell.”

The demon chuckled and moved his black eyed gaze off of John and settled onto the house. “I heard they need you in there,” a short glace in John’s direction. “Grapevine, of course.”


“Tsk, tsk, John, you know better than to say my name.” the demon tutted at him and tapped the dashboard with his index finger. “I do have to say, this has been one of my more favorite deals. Time travel, a mesh of two timelines to create a brand spanking new one. Who knows what could happen now that Simon Tam is in your little slice of time? It was already going a bit wonky, seeing as how Sam fucked-

John’s hand shot out before Crowly had a chance to finish his thought, his fingers wrapped around the demon’s throat, his flesh burning against the iron rings on John’s fingers. His eyes burned bright with rage, the edges of his vision going black. “Don’t you say a damn word.”

“Touchy.” choked out Crowly, wrapping on hand around John’s wrist and prying his hand off his neck. “I thought I could spare you some curiosity and rage in the future, but you don’t want my help-”

“Damn right I don’t.”

“And yet you sit outside watching them like a peeping tom. Very well, you’ll find out soon enough.” Crowly winked at him. “Grapevine.”

Crowly was gone before John could blink. There was no showboating or finishing one-liner, he was just gone, leaving John sitting alone in his car with his arm hanging in the air where Crowly had left it.

He swallowed and settled back into his seat, feeling boneless and dizzy and more than ever now, concerned for his sons. He’d stopped Crowly from telling him what was going on, a good plan or a stupid one, John wasn’t sure yet.

But if Crowly said he would find out soon enough, he dreaded to know what that information would be.
Tags: crossover, dean winchester, firefly, john winchester, simon tam, supernatural
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