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14 February 2015 @ 01:04 pm
Fic: A Girl Like That Anyway - R, SPN/BtVS/Deadwood/OC, 5x, Crossover, Gen, Humor  
I wrote this fic back in 2010 for my girls for Valentine's Day. I always celebrated Valentine's as more of a 'all the people I love' and 'friendship' and stuff rather than romance, so apparently what this really was - this fic that celebrates the awesome women in my life and on my shows - was a Galentine's Day fic, I just didn't know the word back then! So, have some Sam and Dean observing awesome women in the worlds of Buffy, Deadwood and The OC. Enjoy!


Title: A Girl Like That Anyway
Author: dodger_sister
Fandom: Supernatural/Buffy/Deadwood/The O.C.
Category: 5x, Crossover, General, Humor
Characters/Pairing: Dean, Sam, Bobby & Buffy, Faith, Xander & Seth, Summer, Kaitlin & Calamity Jane
Rating: R
Warnings: Language.
Spoilers: The O.C.’s “The Cliffhanger“ & “The Chrismukk-huh?”
Summary: 5x Dean and Sam observed some females of the species.
Word Count: 2,185 words.
Date Written: 02/13/2010
Disclaimer: “Supernatural” belongs to Eric Kripke and The CW. “Buffy” belongs to Joss Whedon and Fox. “Deadwood” belongs to David Milch and HBO. “The O.C.” belongs to Josh Schwartz and Fox. This story, however, is all mine and I make no money off it.
Feedback: Bring it. dodger_sister / TheArtofDodger@comcast.net
Beta’d: Nope.
Author's Notes: I’m pretty sure the “Buffy” timeline wouldn’t add up to a time when the Winchesters knew about vampires and “The O.C.” wouldn’t add up to a time when Sam and Dean were hunting together. But, dude, Deadwood, so whatever. Crossovers, as it turn out, seem to be my favoritest thing to write. They are fun. Also, Alt World can rock on, baby.
Dedication: This is for my girls, on Valentine’s. I meant to write you each your own story, but then I didn’t. *g* It’s okay, you’ll enjoy them all, cuz Buffy & Deadwood & The OC. But if you want to know who I had in mind when I wrote them - hiyacynth, the Buffy is for you. liptonrm, the OC is for you. And for baylorsr, who opted to give up swearing for Lent, the Deadwood is all yours. Love you all!




It usually took Dean three hacks to get the head clean off.

This girl did it in one.

She looked down at the body, spun around and with the stake she held in her other hand, dusted the vampire behind her.

“Huh,” Dean said to his brother. “Her way seems less messy.”

“Not as much clean up,” Sam commented.

“Think we should help her out?”

“Kinda seemed like we were in the way.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think Dad knew you could kill them like this?” Sam asked, because he had never known his dad to not know things that were this important.

Dean shrugged. “She said a lot of the same things Dad did. Fire and decapitation made the list.”

“Yeah, but the stake thing seems so much simpler.”

The girl kicked and punched and staked again.

“Maybe Dad just likes decapitating things,” Dean suggested.

They watched the last vampire fall and the girl wiped at the blood and dust on her very short skirt.

“Damn,” she muttered. “I liked that skirt.”

“I liked that skirt too,” Dean whispered to Sam and got promptly punched in the arm by his brother.

The girl made a hand motion and the boy who had been hiding in the bushes came out.

“I gotta bug,” she told him. “Just try staking the headless ones and if that doesn’t work, try burying the bodies or lit them up or something, ‘kay?”

“Gotta run off and make out with the boyfriend now?” the boy asked, crossing his arms on his chest. “How about the word please before you go traipsing off to bone your bone.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Don’t be crude, Xan,” she said, then paused and added, “And please.”

She waved over at Sam and Dean. “It was nice to meet you. See you around,” and she skipped off, putting her cell phone to her ear and saying happily, “I’m on my way, babe. Hey, did you ever get a washing machine? It’s been a gross night.”

“Hmm,” Dean said. “Wonder what kind of a man dates a girl like that anyway.”

The boy stopped poking at the headless body in front of him and turned to them. He opened his mouth, paused and then shut it again. “Nah,” he said at last. “Never mind.”

***

“…and then, after its head was off, I cut out its heart and then set it on fire. You know, for good measure.” She waved her hands around and bounced on her toes when she spoke and Dean licked at his lips.

“Yeah,” she continued, “B’s not big on the burning, but I enjoy it. And, oh! Don’t you just love when they actually think they can run away from you?” She was wired and for a moment, Dean saw a little of himself in her and it scared him.

But then she was taking his arm, pulling him along and Dean was following because whether they were going to have sex or just kill more things, he was so in.

Sam watched them, then turned to the dark-haired boy at his side. “Should I be worried about that?” he asked.

“Uh, totally,” the boy answered.

“I mean, she’s good at what she does, but she seems a little…”

“Psycho?” the boy supplied.

“I was going to say maniac, but okay. I was just thinking, what kind of a man is with a girl like that anyway?”

The boy opened his mouth, shook his head and shut it again. “Nah,” he said at last. “Just go get your brother.”

***

Bobby had been holed up in Lawrence County, South Dakota for a while when he sent word for them to come.

“Ghosts,” he said when they got there. “Lots and lots of ghosts.”

“Why so many?” Sam asked and then turned to his brother who was poking him in the arm. “What, Dean? What?”

“I think I’m gonna like it here,” Dean said and there was awe in his voice. All around them, Sam saw thieves and murderers and whores.

Two men were arguing on the corner. They pulled their weapons, the bigger one got off his shot first. After he had walked away, a small man came out of a side street and pulled the body away.

No one seemed to notice or care.

“That’s why so many ghosts,” Bobby told them. “Death everywhere here. Death and sin and anger.”

“Good times,” Dean said and grinned.

A woman stumbled out of a bar, shielded her eyes against the sun and hollered “Cocksuckers!” to the sky. Then she staggered off down the street, liquor bottle still in hand.

Bobby grumbled at them, “Let’s get you off the street before Al notices you,” and he hauled Dean along after him.

Sam followed.

Bobby had been making a list of everyone who had died since just before he’d noted the first haunting. He handed Sam and Dean some shovels, laughed and left them to it.

Some of the graves were marked. Some not. But they seemed to be in order of death date, so Sam decided they should just start with the first on the list and burn everything that came after.

There were thirteen graves to get through. When they reached grave number four, the same woman from earlier came stumbling past them, muttering to herself. Without looking in their direction, she spat at them, yelled “Cocksuckers!” and kept walking.

“I like her,” Dean commented.

Sam watched her as he dug. She sat down in front of a headstone, talked at it while she drank her way through two bottles of whiskey and passed out. Sam took off his jacket, went and covered the woman with it.

“Dude,” Dean said to him.

“She looked cold,” Sam mumbled and sped up his digging.

They weren’t finished when the sun came up. They were apprehensive, waiting for someone to call in the law or just plain shoot them, but nobody did.

So they kept digging and burning until they were done.

As they cleaned up their supplies, the woman woke. She rose from her spot on the ground, shook Sam’s coat off and blinked up at the sky.

She picked up the jacket and came stomping and staggering past them, much the way she had the night before. Only this time, she shoved Sam’s coat back at him, and muttered, “Cocksucker,” with much less force than she had the previous times and then stumbled off.

Sam slid the coat back on, ignored the way Dean wrinkled up his nose at it. He looked over at the headstone the woman had slept on and wondered who rested beneath it.

“What kind of a man makes a woman like that cry anyway?” Sam asked.

“Dude, I don’t know,” Dean said, then clasped his brother’s shoulder. “Now, let’s go get some whores.”

***

They’d tracked down a werewolf in Chino. They wiped out a swarm of vampires running a high-risk poker game in The Valley, where losing meant you were lunch and everybody always lost. Then they’d come to Orange County to tackle a poltergeist.

They needed into the house where the haunting was, so Sam had tried to get in posing as the lawn guy. That hadn’t worked. Dean had tried on the cover of pool boy and that hadn’t worked either. They decided the way in had to be through the only person in the house who seemed to actually belong there.

And now they sat on a covert stakeout, taking place in the middle of the day on a beach street bench with café latte slushies in their hands.

The girl was across the other side of the road, nothing between her and the beach but a guardrail. She was pointing her finger at the blonde-haired boy and girl in front of her and motioning wildly between their two bodies. She stamped her feet, shrilled something unintelligible at them and pointed some more.

She was beautiful, no doubt, with long dark hair and perfect skin and even Sam found himself staring. But she was trouble and they both knew it. Girls like that are high maintenance and all you can do is hang on for the ride.

Probably a decent ride though.

“So…” Sam started.

“Yeah,” Dean answered.

On the street bench next to them, a skinny curly-haired boy was reading a comic book and tapping his foot along to whatever was playing on his Ipod.

“So…” Sam said again.

“Yeah,” Dean answered.

The boy looked up, watched them watch the girl and then smiled. “Trust me, boys, she’s loads of trouble,” he told them. Sam and Dean turned, looked at him. The boy grinned, shook his head. “And worth every second of it.”

“Nice,” Dean said and looked back at the girl.

“Yeah,” Sam added, “But what kind of a guy puts up with a girl like that anyway?”

The boy shrugged, stuffed his comic in his bag, slid off his headphones and stood up. “A very, very lucky one,” he said to Sam and then crossed the street to the girl’s side.

He took her arm, tugged at it and said something to the blonde-haired boy. The boys high-fived one another and then the geeky, skinny comic book boy with the Ipod turned the girl towards him and pressed his lips to hers.

And the girl pressed her lips right back.

“So…” Sam said.

“Yeah,” Dean answered.

***

They came to Orange County to rid it of a ghost that seemed to be angrily killing people with a surfboard. It had been a weird hunt, never having been attacked by a surfboard before and even weirder when the ghost lunged at them screaming “I lived in Alt World!”

“Then go back there,” Dean had hollered at it and lit the bones up. “Damn, Sammy, that was weird.”

“Not so sure I’m on board with your whole let’s learn to surf after this idea though,” Sam had said and pulled himself up from the floor.

In the end, they had skipped learning to surf and just headed to the beach so Dean could scope chicks and get lucky. He figured the way to start was stretched out and he made Sam join him, so the ladies could take their time.

He was relaxed and peaceful and warm and decided he liked California much better this time around.

But now someone was blocking his sun and Dean hoped she was smoking hot because this had been a weird case and he’d earned it. He opened his eyes and looked at the girl. She was young, too young really, but cute, wearing a little bikini and staring down at him through her sunglasses.

“Get lost, kid. Your cute, but not enough to go to anal-shower-land for,” Dean told her.

Sam punched him in the arm. “Can we help you?” he asked the girl.

“Is Johnny at peace now?” she asked and her voice was serious and tight.

“Yes,” Sam said after a pause. “He’s at peace.”

“Good,” she answered, nodded her head. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Sam told her and Dean didn’t know how it never bothered his brother to get thanked for just doing their job.

“How did you…do it?” she asked.

Dean looked her up and down, tried not to notice the smooth and the curves but instead focused on the one hand on her hip, the cock in the way she stood, the authority and confidence in her voice.

“Dig up the body, or the bones if that’s all that’s left, burn and salt them. Pretty simple actually.”

She twisted her face up for a second, thought about it and then asked, “That’s it? What else?”

“Some cases are trickier,” Dean told her. “But that’s the generalness of a ghost hunt.”

“Yes,” she said slowly and smiled down at him like she thought he was adorable. “But what else is out there and how do I hunt it?”

Dean looked past her, saw the two boys standing behind her waiting. They each held a surfboard. One held her surfboard too.

“I hunt supernatural shit,” Dean said and looked straight at her, watched as she pushed her sunglasses up on her head and stared straight back at him. “You surf. How about we call it even?”

She smiled. “How about I run into you in a few years and we’ll see how even we are?” She looked at Sam and then at Dean and said, “Thank you,” again before heading off.

Dean watched her go, watched her slide into the water with the boys following after her, watched as she hit her first wave and soared.

“She’d be a decent hunter,” Dean said to his brother.

“Let’s hope not,” Sam answered and settled back on his towel.

“She was kinda hot,” Dean added.

“Dean, dude, seriously.”

“Well,” Dean said with force and assurance, “What kind of a guy looks at a girl like that and doesn’t notice she is hot anyway?”

“The kind that doesn’t want to spend the next fifteen in anal-shower-land.”

“Yeah,” Dean said but watched her take another wave anyway.


The End