Fic: Lunar Cycle (for the "supernatural" challenge)
Title: Lunar Cycle
Characters: Veronica Mars, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester
Rating: PG-13; if you can watch either show, you can read this.
Fandoms: Crossover; Veronica Mars/Supernatural
Warnings: a little violence, that's about it
Summary: Veronica Mars is investigating a jewelry theft by a client's mysterious boyfriend.
Notes: written for the
vm500 supernatural challenge. It... grew.
Word count: 2,535. Posted with moderator permission despite word length.
If her father knew about this, he would kill her. That was Veronica's only thought as she tiptoed through the dark warehouse outside of Barstow. But, what her dad didn't know wouldn't hurt her, and that just made her tighten her grip around her taser. She'd been helping a friend--well, less a friend and more a paying customer--and trying to find her ex-boyfriend and the couple hundred thousand dollars worth of jewelry he'd stolen when he left her.
All silver--chains, lockets, even a ring--and all bought brand-new on a credit card with the unlikely name of Leon Stallworthy.
Yeah, she'd seen a Polaroid of this guy and he didn't look like a Leon, not in the least.
When Veronica heard voices, she knew she'd hit the jackpot. Two voices, in fact, and it kind of made her wish she hadn't left Backup in the car, but his barking would have made it a lot harder to get in where she was.
"I can't believe you walked out with your girlfriend's jewelry box, man. That's low."
A rude noise. "Ah, she wasn't that good anyway. Besides, we need the silver bullets. You know the pack's around here somewhere; we've seen the tracks and the big piles of bloody intestines back in the woods there. Now unless you'd like to join that bloody pile, stop yapping and keep packing those clips."
Veronica blinked. Okay. The girl hadn't mentioned her ex-boyfriend was completely batshit crazy. She wished again for Backup, and seriously considered going back for him when--
"Hey--did you hear that?"
"Yeah, I did." A dull thud of metal against flesh, and Veronica caught a flash of shotgun barrel as it got tossed from man to man. "Check it out, Sammy."
"Got it covered." The one named Sammy took the shotgun and scaled the crates to the nearest window, and peered out through... a camcorder? Veronica shook her head. These guys were batshit, seriously. "Nothing out there but a dog in a Chrysler," he reported, then tossed the camera back to the other guy.
"Kill it; if it's a lookout for the pack, the last thing we need is for it to howl out a warning."
Veronica couldn't wait any longer at that, because nobody was gonna lay a hand on her dog. She burst out of her hiding place in the corner, taser at the ready. "You kill my dog and I swear to God I'll kill you."
The one named Sammy swung the shotgun around and his finger even twitched on the trigger before--"Hold it!" The other guy was standing at the table, a gleaming metal gun pointed at her. "Who in the hell are you?"
"Put the gun down and we'll talk--you too," she said, nodding at Sammy.
"Dean?" Sammy asked.
"Go ahead; I don't think she's going to bite." An infuriating smirk and the one called Dean put the gun down on the table. "Now. Who are you?"
Veronica waited until Sammy had put down his shotgun, and she warily lowered her stun gun. "My name is Veronica Mars, and that's my dog you're about to shoot."
"Well, Veronica Mars. My name's Dean, and that's Sammy. Now why don't you take your little Barbie doll ass back out the way it came before you get hurt."
"Hurt by werewolves?" she asked snidely.
"Yes, by werewolves." Dean didn't even look up. "Now get out of here before the Big Bad Wolf gobbles you up."
A deep, long bay penetrated the walls of the warehouse, and Sam sprinted over to the window. "Um... looks like it might be a little too late for that, Dean." He peeked out. "Her dog's going apeshit in the car, and there's about..." His finger moved quickly as he did a headcount. "Six shaggies heading this way, and probably more on the other side."
Veronica shoved past Dean and climbed up on the boxes beside Sam, stretching on her tiptoes and then pulling herself up on the windowsill. It'd been funny how far away from the boxes her feet dangled if the situation weren't getting deadly serious in a hurry, but Dean kept on loading clips. "How long we got?"
Sam shook his head as he looked over his shoulder. "Not long enough. Five minutes. Less, if there's more of them."
"Okay, Barbie. You got yourself into the middle of a bad situation. Don't suppose you know how to do anything useful, like shoot a real gun?" Dean's hands picked up speed, moving in a blur as he did work he could do in his sleep.
In answer, Veronica jumped down from the boxes, took off her satchel and put the stun gun inside, and picked up one of the guns Dean had already loaded. She shifted the sight to fit her, racked the top back to chamber a round, and made sure the safety was off. "My ex's best friend is a gun nut. After the last two years, Logan decided I ought to know how to shoot."
Dean arched his eyebrow. "Well, Barbie's not such dead weight after all." He tossed her two of the silver bullet clips. "Get behind me and Sammy, in that corner. Don't come out of it unless we tell you to, and shoot anything that comes in and isn't us."
Veronica caught the clips against her chest and put one in each jacket pocket, and ejected the one in the gun to make sure it was full, then slammed it back home. "You know you're crazy, right?"
"Dean," Sam said warningly. "They're circling; there's about ten of 'em now."
"Okay. Showtime." He pointed to the corner beside the window. "Go. Sam, block that window up best you can."
"On it." Sam manhandled several of the largest boxes up to the top of the stack where he was standing, and used them to block the window entirely.
"There's no such thing as werewolves," Veronica protested again. "You're just gonna end up shooting a bunch of dogs."
"Right," Dean said dryly. "I don't have time to argue with you. Just... shoot anything that comes on, four legged or not. Kay?"
"I'm not shooting people," Veronica stated flatly, but before she could do anything else, there was another baying howl, which was rapidly joined by more and more until she couldn't even count the distinctive voices. "What the hell is that."
"That? Is the pack of werewolves that doesn't exist," Dean answered, checking his own gun. "They know we're in here and they know we're gonna kill them."
"Kill--so that's why you stole the jewelry!" she blurted out suddenly. "Because silver's supposed to kill them!"
"Not supposed to, Veronica, does," Sam said gently. "Look, I know it's hard to believe, but it's true, all right? They've been killing animals and pets in the vicinity for a couple of weeks now, and one of our Dad's friends called us because they know we're good at hunting. They're afraid if the pack doesn't get stopped now, they're going to start killing and turning children, so we came as soon as we could. We won't let them hurt you or your dog, but we've got to stop them before they move on to human flesh, because then it's going to get really ugly."
There was sincerity in Sam's soulful eyes that made her believe him, at least, more than she did his cocky counterpart. "Okay. Shoot anything four-legged that comes through the door. I got it."
"Good. We'll do our best to make sure nothing gets past us, but if it does, don't hesitate to use this to protect yourself." He gave her a smile. "Nice to meet you, Veronica Mars."
"Likewise." She returned Sam's smile and with his help, scrambled into the corner behind the protective stockade of boxes.
Dean was glaring at his brother as he came over. "Dude. How do you *do* that? You flash those puppy dog eyes, you give them that... that... *tone* of your voice and they'll do anything! Anything!" Even as he grumbled, he was taking the safety off his gun and cocking the hammer back.
"I don't know, Dean. It's a gift." Sam didn't pause to think maybe it really was, but it'd been something he'd done all of his life. He'd developed it early on, the ability to calm his brother down and to smooth over the wild stories with reasonable and rational explanations. "Let's get this done."
"Right," Dean agreed. "So how you wanna do it? Bust out with all guns blazing or let 'em bring the fight to us?"
Sam cocked his pistol and weighed it in his hand as he thought. "Neither one's a great option. We go out there, it's Winchester season. We bring 'em in here, and we're trapped in a hallway with no other way out."
"But the benefit of that is, they can't go anywhere else either. Once they're in, there in. It'll be like shooting fish in barrel," Dean pointed out.
"Only these fish can bite back and rip your throat out." Sam took the position on the other side of the hallway.
"Okay. I'll go outside, do what I can, and then lead them back here for you and Barbie to finish off." Dean straightened up from his slouch. "Barbie! Get your ass ready to go!"
"Fuck you!"
"Her name's Veronica, and she might do a lot more for you if you were nice about it!" Sam hissed. "It's okay, Veronica, they're coming in any second. When they do, be ready."
"Ready as I'll ever be!" Veronica shifted behind the boxes until she could get a clear eye on the hallway. It proved to be useless, because she nearly leapt out of her skin at the loud volley of shouts, swearing, bullets and howling that ricocheted around the empty building. When silence reigned, except for the occasional single gunshot, she crept out from behind the boxes.
A quiet whimpering caught her attention, and she looked down at her feet. A little pup, not more than six or seven weeks old, from the look of it, was crying and huddled in a dirty, matted mess at her feet. Gray fur, deep brown eyes, and a soft pink tongue all looked up at her as it tried to lick the blood off its coat.
Bending over, Veronica put the gun on the box and picked the little pup up, cooing softly and wrapping it in her jacket. "Poor little fella," she said softly, holding it against her chest. "You're all alone now, aren't you?"
As if it could understand her, the little puppy whined softly and rubbed its snout in her jacket, tongue licking his jowls hungrily.
"Veronica!" Sam skidded to a halt as he saw the little woman holding the werewolf pup. "Veronica? Put it down."
"What? Sam, he's just a baby." Veronica lifted the jacket-wrapped bundle up to her shoulder. "You guys are crazy, and if you want to kill wolves that come into the city, fine, whatever. You can take that up with the government. But this is just a little baby. A pup. And you can't kill it."
"It's from a werewolf litter," Sam explained, holding his arms out. "Let me have it. Please."
"Sam, get out of the way. Barbie, put the mutt on the floor or I'll shoot you both, I swear to God." Dean came around his brother, gun still up at the ready. "Cause you're not getting out of here with that thing."
"It's not a thing!" Veronica kept the pup tucked in her jacket, and covered it's head with her hand.
"Yes, it is, and I'm gonna prove it. You saw the wolves outside, right?" Sam slowly walked closer when Veronica nodded yes. "Okay. Then go look out in the hallway."
Veronica kept the puppy tucked to her shoulder, stroking it and quieting the cries as she looked out in the hallway. "Oh my God." There were... they weren't really *bodies.* They were carcasses, half human and half wolf, as though they'd been trying to mutate between the forms and stopped mid-way.
Sam was behind her in an instant, offering support as she turned away. "They're things, Veronica. They're not pets, they're not people, they're monsters. If they'd had the chance to change back, they'd have killed us. So we had to kill them, in the change, so they couldn't go one way or the other. Put enough silver in them that they couldn't survive."
The little pup on her shoulder whined, and started scratching and pawing to get away. Veronica held the pup out, watching it start to transform in her hands, and Sam caught it by the scruff of the neck. "Dean!!"
"Got it." Dean lined the shot up quickly, shooting through the heart with the first bullet. It hadn't been able to transform, not even halfway, but when Sam dropped it, jacket and all, Veronica could see the feet of a toddler sticking out from under it.
"Oh, God." Veronica couldn't look any further, and turned away, letting Sam pull her into a hug when she started to cry.
- = - = -
Sam ended up leading Veronica out to her car while Dean started dragging the dead wolf carcasses into the main warehouse room and dousing them with kerosene. He didn't let go of her until they were outside, away from the carnage, and it was safe to let her see. "Veronica?"
"Yeah?" She dashed her arm across her eyes, drying them quickly and taking her satchel as Sam held it out to her.
"Don't tell anyone what you saw tonight, okay? Or about us." Sam wrote down the number of his cell phone, and handed it to her. "Just... if anything else happens, or you need to talk about it? You call me."
Veronica nodded, putting the number in her pocket and unlocking the door. Backup charged out the driver's side and Veronica watched as Sam got down on one knee, and Backup licked him frantically, tail wagging like Sam was his best friend in the world. "You can't be all bad if Backup likes you," she said, sniffling softly and herding the big dog back in the car.
"We're not bad at all," Sam answered with a little smile, shutting her door after she got in. "Lock your doors tonight, okay? Just in case anything follows you home. If you get scared, call us, okay?"
Veronica looked at Sam through the window. "I don't get scared. But if anything goes bump in the night, you'll be the first one to know it."
"Good girl." Sam waved as Veronica pulled off the curb.
In her rearview mirror, Veronica watched until Sam had turned into a little dot, and then disappeared. Only then did she pick up her cell phone to call her client. "Cheryl? Yeah, it's Veronica. I'm sorry, but I couldn't find your boyfriend or the jewelry. Yeah. The warehouse was a bust; nobody was there, nobody'd been there for a few days. Come by the girl's bathroom tomorrow and I'll give you your check back; all I need is gas money. Yeah. See ya. Bye."
The End
Characters: Veronica Mars, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester
Rating: PG-13; if you can watch either show, you can read this.
Fandoms: Crossover; Veronica Mars/Supernatural
Warnings: a little violence, that's about it
Summary: Veronica Mars is investigating a jewelry theft by a client's mysterious boyfriend.
Notes: written for the
vm500 supernatural challenge. It... grew.Word count: 2,535. Posted with moderator permission despite word length.
If her father knew about this, he would kill her. That was Veronica's only thought as she tiptoed through the dark warehouse outside of Barstow. But, what her dad didn't know wouldn't hurt her, and that just made her tighten her grip around her taser. She'd been helping a friend--well, less a friend and more a paying customer--and trying to find her ex-boyfriend and the couple hundred thousand dollars worth of jewelry he'd stolen when he left her.
All silver--chains, lockets, even a ring--and all bought brand-new on a credit card with the unlikely name of Leon Stallworthy.
Yeah, she'd seen a Polaroid of this guy and he didn't look like a Leon, not in the least.
When Veronica heard voices, she knew she'd hit the jackpot. Two voices, in fact, and it kind of made her wish she hadn't left Backup in the car, but his barking would have made it a lot harder to get in where she was.
"I can't believe you walked out with your girlfriend's jewelry box, man. That's low."
A rude noise. "Ah, she wasn't that good anyway. Besides, we need the silver bullets. You know the pack's around here somewhere; we've seen the tracks and the big piles of bloody intestines back in the woods there. Now unless you'd like to join that bloody pile, stop yapping and keep packing those clips."
Veronica blinked. Okay. The girl hadn't mentioned her ex-boyfriend was completely batshit crazy. She wished again for Backup, and seriously considered going back for him when--
"Hey--did you hear that?"
"Yeah, I did." A dull thud of metal against flesh, and Veronica caught a flash of shotgun barrel as it got tossed from man to man. "Check it out, Sammy."
"Got it covered." The one named Sammy took the shotgun and scaled the crates to the nearest window, and peered out through... a camcorder? Veronica shook her head. These guys were batshit, seriously. "Nothing out there but a dog in a Chrysler," he reported, then tossed the camera back to the other guy.
"Kill it; if it's a lookout for the pack, the last thing we need is for it to howl out a warning."
Veronica couldn't wait any longer at that, because nobody was gonna lay a hand on her dog. She burst out of her hiding place in the corner, taser at the ready. "You kill my dog and I swear to God I'll kill you."
The one named Sammy swung the shotgun around and his finger even twitched on the trigger before--"Hold it!" The other guy was standing at the table, a gleaming metal gun pointed at her. "Who in the hell are you?"
"Put the gun down and we'll talk--you too," she said, nodding at Sammy.
"Dean?" Sammy asked.
"Go ahead; I don't think she's going to bite." An infuriating smirk and the one called Dean put the gun down on the table. "Now. Who are you?"
Veronica waited until Sammy had put down his shotgun, and she warily lowered her stun gun. "My name is Veronica Mars, and that's my dog you're about to shoot."
"Well, Veronica Mars. My name's Dean, and that's Sammy. Now why don't you take your little Barbie doll ass back out the way it came before you get hurt."
"Hurt by werewolves?" she asked snidely.
"Yes, by werewolves." Dean didn't even look up. "Now get out of here before the Big Bad Wolf gobbles you up."
A deep, long bay penetrated the walls of the warehouse, and Sam sprinted over to the window. "Um... looks like it might be a little too late for that, Dean." He peeked out. "Her dog's going apeshit in the car, and there's about..." His finger moved quickly as he did a headcount. "Six shaggies heading this way, and probably more on the other side."
Veronica shoved past Dean and climbed up on the boxes beside Sam, stretching on her tiptoes and then pulling herself up on the windowsill. It'd been funny how far away from the boxes her feet dangled if the situation weren't getting deadly serious in a hurry, but Dean kept on loading clips. "How long we got?"
Sam shook his head as he looked over his shoulder. "Not long enough. Five minutes. Less, if there's more of them."
"Okay, Barbie. You got yourself into the middle of a bad situation. Don't suppose you know how to do anything useful, like shoot a real gun?" Dean's hands picked up speed, moving in a blur as he did work he could do in his sleep.
In answer, Veronica jumped down from the boxes, took off her satchel and put the stun gun inside, and picked up one of the guns Dean had already loaded. She shifted the sight to fit her, racked the top back to chamber a round, and made sure the safety was off. "My ex's best friend is a gun nut. After the last two years, Logan decided I ought to know how to shoot."
Dean arched his eyebrow. "Well, Barbie's not such dead weight after all." He tossed her two of the silver bullet clips. "Get behind me and Sammy, in that corner. Don't come out of it unless we tell you to, and shoot anything that comes in and isn't us."
Veronica caught the clips against her chest and put one in each jacket pocket, and ejected the one in the gun to make sure it was full, then slammed it back home. "You know you're crazy, right?"
"Dean," Sam said warningly. "They're circling; there's about ten of 'em now."
"Okay. Showtime." He pointed to the corner beside the window. "Go. Sam, block that window up best you can."
"On it." Sam manhandled several of the largest boxes up to the top of the stack where he was standing, and used them to block the window entirely.
"There's no such thing as werewolves," Veronica protested again. "You're just gonna end up shooting a bunch of dogs."
"Right," Dean said dryly. "I don't have time to argue with you. Just... shoot anything that comes on, four legged or not. Kay?"
"I'm not shooting people," Veronica stated flatly, but before she could do anything else, there was another baying howl, which was rapidly joined by more and more until she couldn't even count the distinctive voices. "What the hell is that."
"That? Is the pack of werewolves that doesn't exist," Dean answered, checking his own gun. "They know we're in here and they know we're gonna kill them."
"Kill--so that's why you stole the jewelry!" she blurted out suddenly. "Because silver's supposed to kill them!"
"Not supposed to, Veronica, does," Sam said gently. "Look, I know it's hard to believe, but it's true, all right? They've been killing animals and pets in the vicinity for a couple of weeks now, and one of our Dad's friends called us because they know we're good at hunting. They're afraid if the pack doesn't get stopped now, they're going to start killing and turning children, so we came as soon as we could. We won't let them hurt you or your dog, but we've got to stop them before they move on to human flesh, because then it's going to get really ugly."
There was sincerity in Sam's soulful eyes that made her believe him, at least, more than she did his cocky counterpart. "Okay. Shoot anything four-legged that comes through the door. I got it."
"Good. We'll do our best to make sure nothing gets past us, but if it does, don't hesitate to use this to protect yourself." He gave her a smile. "Nice to meet you, Veronica Mars."
"Likewise." She returned Sam's smile and with his help, scrambled into the corner behind the protective stockade of boxes.
Dean was glaring at his brother as he came over. "Dude. How do you *do* that? You flash those puppy dog eyes, you give them that... that... *tone* of your voice and they'll do anything! Anything!" Even as he grumbled, he was taking the safety off his gun and cocking the hammer back.
"I don't know, Dean. It's a gift." Sam didn't pause to think maybe it really was, but it'd been something he'd done all of his life. He'd developed it early on, the ability to calm his brother down and to smooth over the wild stories with reasonable and rational explanations. "Let's get this done."
"Right," Dean agreed. "So how you wanna do it? Bust out with all guns blazing or let 'em bring the fight to us?"
Sam cocked his pistol and weighed it in his hand as he thought. "Neither one's a great option. We go out there, it's Winchester season. We bring 'em in here, and we're trapped in a hallway with no other way out."
"But the benefit of that is, they can't go anywhere else either. Once they're in, there in. It'll be like shooting fish in barrel," Dean pointed out.
"Only these fish can bite back and rip your throat out." Sam took the position on the other side of the hallway.
"Okay. I'll go outside, do what I can, and then lead them back here for you and Barbie to finish off." Dean straightened up from his slouch. "Barbie! Get your ass ready to go!"
"Fuck you!"
"Her name's Veronica, and she might do a lot more for you if you were nice about it!" Sam hissed. "It's okay, Veronica, they're coming in any second. When they do, be ready."
"Ready as I'll ever be!" Veronica shifted behind the boxes until she could get a clear eye on the hallway. It proved to be useless, because she nearly leapt out of her skin at the loud volley of shouts, swearing, bullets and howling that ricocheted around the empty building. When silence reigned, except for the occasional single gunshot, she crept out from behind the boxes.
A quiet whimpering caught her attention, and she looked down at her feet. A little pup, not more than six or seven weeks old, from the look of it, was crying and huddled in a dirty, matted mess at her feet. Gray fur, deep brown eyes, and a soft pink tongue all looked up at her as it tried to lick the blood off its coat.
Bending over, Veronica put the gun on the box and picked the little pup up, cooing softly and wrapping it in her jacket. "Poor little fella," she said softly, holding it against her chest. "You're all alone now, aren't you?"
As if it could understand her, the little puppy whined softly and rubbed its snout in her jacket, tongue licking his jowls hungrily.
"Veronica!" Sam skidded to a halt as he saw the little woman holding the werewolf pup. "Veronica? Put it down."
"What? Sam, he's just a baby." Veronica lifted the jacket-wrapped bundle up to her shoulder. "You guys are crazy, and if you want to kill wolves that come into the city, fine, whatever. You can take that up with the government. But this is just a little baby. A pup. And you can't kill it."
"It's from a werewolf litter," Sam explained, holding his arms out. "Let me have it. Please."
"Sam, get out of the way. Barbie, put the mutt on the floor or I'll shoot you both, I swear to God." Dean came around his brother, gun still up at the ready. "Cause you're not getting out of here with that thing."
"It's not a thing!" Veronica kept the pup tucked in her jacket, and covered it's head with her hand.
"Yes, it is, and I'm gonna prove it. You saw the wolves outside, right?" Sam slowly walked closer when Veronica nodded yes. "Okay. Then go look out in the hallway."
Veronica kept the puppy tucked to her shoulder, stroking it and quieting the cries as she looked out in the hallway. "Oh my God." There were... they weren't really *bodies.* They were carcasses, half human and half wolf, as though they'd been trying to mutate between the forms and stopped mid-way.
Sam was behind her in an instant, offering support as she turned away. "They're things, Veronica. They're not pets, they're not people, they're monsters. If they'd had the chance to change back, they'd have killed us. So we had to kill them, in the change, so they couldn't go one way or the other. Put enough silver in them that they couldn't survive."
The little pup on her shoulder whined, and started scratching and pawing to get away. Veronica held the pup out, watching it start to transform in her hands, and Sam caught it by the scruff of the neck. "Dean!!"
"Got it." Dean lined the shot up quickly, shooting through the heart with the first bullet. It hadn't been able to transform, not even halfway, but when Sam dropped it, jacket and all, Veronica could see the feet of a toddler sticking out from under it.
"Oh, God." Veronica couldn't look any further, and turned away, letting Sam pull her into a hug when she started to cry.
- = - = -
Sam ended up leading Veronica out to her car while Dean started dragging the dead wolf carcasses into the main warehouse room and dousing them with kerosene. He didn't let go of her until they were outside, away from the carnage, and it was safe to let her see. "Veronica?"
"Yeah?" She dashed her arm across her eyes, drying them quickly and taking her satchel as Sam held it out to her.
"Don't tell anyone what you saw tonight, okay? Or about us." Sam wrote down the number of his cell phone, and handed it to her. "Just... if anything else happens, or you need to talk about it? You call me."
Veronica nodded, putting the number in her pocket and unlocking the door. Backup charged out the driver's side and Veronica watched as Sam got down on one knee, and Backup licked him frantically, tail wagging like Sam was his best friend in the world. "You can't be all bad if Backup likes you," she said, sniffling softly and herding the big dog back in the car.
"We're not bad at all," Sam answered with a little smile, shutting her door after she got in. "Lock your doors tonight, okay? Just in case anything follows you home. If you get scared, call us, okay?"
Veronica looked at Sam through the window. "I don't get scared. But if anything goes bump in the night, you'll be the first one to know it."
"Good girl." Sam waved as Veronica pulled off the curb.
In her rearview mirror, Veronica watched until Sam had turned into a little dot, and then disappeared. Only then did she pick up her cell phone to call her client. "Cheryl? Yeah, it's Veronica. I'm sorry, but I couldn't find your boyfriend or the jewelry. Yeah. The warehouse was a bust; nobody was there, nobody'd been there for a few days. Come by the girl's bathroom tomorrow and I'll give you your check back; all I need is gas money. Yeah. See ya. Bye."
The End