![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
[Fic: Supernatural/Devil May Cry] "Wrong Way"
Title: Wrong Way
Fandom: Supernatural/Devil May Cry
Rating: PG
Words: 582
Characters: Sam, Dante, Dean
Summary: Sam calls an old acquaintance for help. Spoilers for the season two finale.
Author’s Notes: Continuation of Kind Connections, sort of. I find this crossover strangely compelling, apparently.
*
Sam didn’t know why he still had the number, but there it was – scribbled in his own handwriting in the space between the entries for warlock and werewolf, and that fact alone was weird enough. Sam liked to keep things neat and organized; he kept his additions to Dad’s notebook in alphabetical order.
Sam sat down on the edge of the twin bed with the notebook in his lap and glanced at the bathroom door. The shower was still running.
He picked up his cell phone and dialed. It rang twice.
“Devil May Cry,” the voice at the other end answers, familiar but not quite like Sam remembers it. Instead of being gruff and casual and slightly intoxicated, it’s gruff and casual and strangely professional. There’s a pause, then, as Dante waits for the password.
Sam had to turn the notebook sideways and squint to read the word he’d penciled in under the phone number. He still managed it, and said it, as loud as he thought he could get away with.
“Well, well, looks like we’re in business,” Dante said. And he waited some more.
Sam thought carefully about what he was going to say. About what he could say. He settled for, “I need some advice.”
Dante sighed. “Yeah, that’s not in the job description.”
“About demons.”
“Don’t see that anywhere, either.”
“Please.”
This was a last resort. He didn’t really expect Dante to go to great lengths to help a stranger – which Sam technically wasn’t, but since he hadn’t identified himself he might as well have been.
So he was a little surprised when Dante said, “Lucky for you I’m bored. Shoot.”
Sam glanced at the shower door again. Dean wasn’t exactly predictable when it came to hygiene, but Sam was pretty sure he had give more minutes. “What do you know about crossroad demons?” he asked.
“Not much, to tell the truth,” Dante answered easily. “I hear they’re vindictive bitches, but easy enough to avoid.”
Sam knew that much. “Yeah,” he said, “but once you make a—”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t?” Sam leaned forward, his eyes on the door, his fingers drumming on the notebook.
“Don’t fucking deal with them. They’re not dangerous to anyone ‘til someone gets locked up in a promise, and once they’ve got a taste of your soul they’ll never let you go.”
Sam could hear glass clinking in the background, and glanced at the alarm clock. It was early here, and three hours earlier in California, and he found himself hoping that whatever Dante was drinking, it wasn’t alcoholic.
“Even worse,” Dante continued. “They’re hard to trick, and even if you do – well, already said the bit about them being vindictive bitches. You’ll pay, either way.”
“I know all that,” Sam said quickly, annoyed. This wasn’t helping him feel a whole lot better. “Just – what if you already made a deal? What then?”
There was silence on the other end.
“Listen, kid. Sam.”
Sam blinked.
“When I told you to call me, I meant before things got out of hand. Not after.”
“I know—”
“Do you, now? Sam, there’s nothing I can—”
The bathroom door swung open.
Sam hadn’t even noticed that the shower had shut off – he barely had time to hit the red button on his cell and toss it on the bed. Dean walked out in his jeans, scanning the room. Probably looking for his shirt.
“Who you talking to?” he asked. He gave Sam a puzzled look.
Sam shrugged. “No one.”
*
Fandom: Supernatural/Devil May Cry
Rating: PG
Words: 582
Characters: Sam, Dante, Dean
Summary: Sam calls an old acquaintance for help. Spoilers for the season two finale.
Author’s Notes: Continuation of Kind Connections, sort of. I find this crossover strangely compelling, apparently.
*
Sam didn’t know why he still had the number, but there it was – scribbled in his own handwriting in the space between the entries for warlock and werewolf, and that fact alone was weird enough. Sam liked to keep things neat and organized; he kept his additions to Dad’s notebook in alphabetical order.
Sam sat down on the edge of the twin bed with the notebook in his lap and glanced at the bathroom door. The shower was still running.
He picked up his cell phone and dialed. It rang twice.
“Devil May Cry,” the voice at the other end answers, familiar but not quite like Sam remembers it. Instead of being gruff and casual and slightly intoxicated, it’s gruff and casual and strangely professional. There’s a pause, then, as Dante waits for the password.
Sam had to turn the notebook sideways and squint to read the word he’d penciled in under the phone number. He still managed it, and said it, as loud as he thought he could get away with.
“Well, well, looks like we’re in business,” Dante said. And he waited some more.
Sam thought carefully about what he was going to say. About what he could say. He settled for, “I need some advice.”
Dante sighed. “Yeah, that’s not in the job description.”
“About demons.”
“Don’t see that anywhere, either.”
“Please.”
This was a last resort. He didn’t really expect Dante to go to great lengths to help a stranger – which Sam technically wasn’t, but since he hadn’t identified himself he might as well have been.
So he was a little surprised when Dante said, “Lucky for you I’m bored. Shoot.”
Sam glanced at the shower door again. Dean wasn’t exactly predictable when it came to hygiene, but Sam was pretty sure he had give more minutes. “What do you know about crossroad demons?” he asked.
“Not much, to tell the truth,” Dante answered easily. “I hear they’re vindictive bitches, but easy enough to avoid.”
Sam knew that much. “Yeah,” he said, “but once you make a—”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t?” Sam leaned forward, his eyes on the door, his fingers drumming on the notebook.
“Don’t fucking deal with them. They’re not dangerous to anyone ‘til someone gets locked up in a promise, and once they’ve got a taste of your soul they’ll never let you go.”
Sam could hear glass clinking in the background, and glanced at the alarm clock. It was early here, and three hours earlier in California, and he found himself hoping that whatever Dante was drinking, it wasn’t alcoholic.
“Even worse,” Dante continued. “They’re hard to trick, and even if you do – well, already said the bit about them being vindictive bitches. You’ll pay, either way.”
“I know all that,” Sam said quickly, annoyed. This wasn’t helping him feel a whole lot better. “Just – what if you already made a deal? What then?”
There was silence on the other end.
“Listen, kid. Sam.”
Sam blinked.
“When I told you to call me, I meant before things got out of hand. Not after.”
“I know—”
“Do you, now? Sam, there’s nothing I can—”
The bathroom door swung open.
Sam hadn’t even noticed that the shower had shut off – he barely had time to hit the red button on his cell and toss it on the bed. Dean walked out in his jeans, scanning the room. Probably looking for his shirt.
“Who you talking to?” he asked. He gave Sam a puzzled look.
Sam shrugged. “No one.”
*
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Are you going to expand this story, or have you expanded it somewhere else? Love it to pieces!
no subject
no subject
(Anonymous) 2008-01-20 07:04 am (UTC)(link)no subject
Add some Vergil in there, and we can destroy galaxies. GALAXIES.I'm trying so hard not to squeal right now. <3 Eee.
no subject
no subject
there should be more crossover btw dmc and spn since they deal with the same thing!!
no subject