Title: Pyromania

Fandom: "Supernatural"/X-Men movie 'verse crossover

Disclaimer: Not my characters. Just for fun.

Warnings: spoilers for seasons 1&2 of "Supernatural" and X3; AU for "Supernatural" sometime before "Croatoan"

Pairings: none

Rating: PG13

Wordcount: 1410

Point of view: third

Notes: The timelines don't really mesh between chapters. So, I'm pulling rank and saying not to worry about it.

You should have let them kill me.

I'm sorry.


When the news aired the first time, the kid that nearly torched part of the Boston PD, Dean knew. It made front pages across the country, the attack on the school that culminated in an upscale Boston neighborhood and a boy that could burn the world.

But there was a poltergeist, then a vengeful spirit, and then a black dog that almost eviscerated Sam, so 'Pyro,' as he apparently called himself, was wiped clean from Dean's mind.

Sam's powers had grown in leaps and bounds. He'd been approached by a man(mutant) named Charles Xavier, asked if he'd join the X-Men, but Sam said no. He never told Dean what the professor whispered mind-to-mind, but he didn't smile in the days after. Not for weeks.

The first time Dean controlled fire he was thirty-three, way too old to develop a power. And fire? Not cool. Not cool at all. But he didn't pause, just told the blaze to calm the fuck down because Sam was still somewhere in the house. He felt the fire, like it was somewhere in his mind and it—listened. It collapsed in on itself, leaving only smoke in its wake.

"It isn't possible," Dean told Sam, barely staying on his feet.

"No, it isn't," Sam answered, catching Dean when he passed out.

So, Sam had premonitions, telepathy, and telekinesis. Dean could boss fire around.

Honestly, it just didn't seem fair.

But like with Sam's so called 'gifts,' they worked it into their gig. They no longer had to worry about gasoline or matches or a lighter. Dean could form an inferno with a thought, have it burn just long and hot enough, then put it out.

Xavier approached them again, and again they turned him down.

This time he spoke to Dean's mind. If your brother dies before you, Mr. Winchester, Xavier asked, what will you do?
Around them, the room's temperature rose. Dean didn't speak aloud but all three of them heard his answer.

"He told me I was a Class Four," Sam said a few days later. "The first time we spoke." Sam laughed a little, not mirthful at all. "That's the same level as Magneto, Dean."

"It's alright, Sammy," Dean responded, praying to a god he gave up on years before that he didn't lie.


Fire ravishes and consumes, never sated, never tiring. And it listened to Dean, any fire he came across.

Watching the news reports about Magneto and his Brotherhood, about Mystique, about the 'cure' that led only to madness—Dean wondered who was right and who was wrong and if there even was a 'good' side anymore.


When Xavier died, every mutant in the world felt it.

"She's a Class Five," Sam whispered in horror. "Dean, she could kill us all."

Dean closed his eyes and swore, deep in his soul, that 'she' would get nowhere near his little brother.

So when the battle at Alcatraz happened, Sam was in Maine. Dean kept him wrapped up in a hunt, giving him no time to consider what was happening.

But then Sam cried out, dropping to his knees, and keened. Dean fell beside him, helpless to end his pain, only able to hold him and whisper baseless promises.

"She's gone," Sam muttered, on the edge of consciousness. "Dean, she's gone."

And finally Sam passed out, slept for almost a week. Dean watched his vital signs and the news, wondered how the world sank into such a state.

When Sam woke, he told Dean, "I'm the strongest," voice filled with fear. "Me, Dean. But that cure—it won't last forever. For the powerful ones, it's already fading."

Dean looked into his baby brother's terrified eyes and said, "I'm not afraid of you , Sammy. I never have been. I never will be."

And Sammy smiled, comforted.


The months after Alcatraz were full of riots and fear, and a war almost broke out, but the president held the country together. And finally it seemed like maybe everything would be fine.

The mutants who'd been on Magneto's side had mostly been 'cured,' but it was fading. A few lashed out when their powers returned and were quickly rounded up.

Magneto himself had vanished but none doubted he'd return. Mystique, too, was long gone. Most of Magneto's lieutenants had died at Alcatraz, but one—Pyro—had been pulled out, unconscious but unhurt, and given to the military. Tried as a minor—he was barely seventeen—he was given a bracelet filled with Leech's blood that could never come off.

Dean learned all of it from hacking into every government database. Sam didn't need to read his mind to know. And Sam didn't try to convince him not to go after Pyro.

"I know where he is," Sam said. "I can feel him.

"You're not coming with me," Dean replied and Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, yeah, I am."

"Sammy," Dean explained, "I don't want you anywhere near that cure."

"Dean," Sam said, standing up and walking over to his brother. "Before they even raise the gun, I'll know what they're doing. If you want to get that kid, you're taking me with you."
"What did Xavier tell you, Sam?" Dean asked, studying his brother's face. "That first time he came to us?"

Sam licked his lips, looked away. "He gave me a warning," Sam answered softly. "Power, responsibility. How I owed the world."

Dean nodded. "He told me the same."

With a shared smile, they started planning.


It was a quick battle and there were no casualties. Sam knocked out the prison's power and murmured to Dean's mind where they kept Pyro. Dean ghosted through the halls, using years of training and experience; Sam held all the guards in a gentle grip, allowing them to breathe and nothing else.

When the news broke hours later, America trembled. All the powerful mutants were meant to be accounted for, but everyone was at a loss. Some thought that Pyro's escape proved Magneto had returned; others, that it was a declaration of war. The president turned to the X-Men, but they had no explanation.

Pyro's bracelet, the only thing that kept his inferno leashed, was found a few feet away from the main doors of the prison.


Pyro—John, John Allerdyce—shivered in the motel bed, curled in on himself. Sam lounged on the other bed and Dean sat in the chair. They didn't talk; they didn't need to. Hadn't needed to in a long time.

Dean studied the kid; he didn't look like one of the most dangerous mutants in the world. Didn't look like much more than a wounded boy. That wounded boy Dean had helped out so long before.

Dean wondered where that shark lighter had gotten to.

John's eyes flicked from one to the other. "What d'ya want with me?" he asked, voice hoarse and barely there.

"You don't belong in jail, kid," Dean replied.

"I killed people." John's voice filled with self-loathing. "Good people."

"You regret it," Sam responded, compassionate and gentle. "You weren't being helped in there, so we got you out."

John scoffed, seeming to find some of that attitude that made him infamous from one ocean to the other. "The hell are you people?"

Dean and Sam shared a smirk. "We're just people, kid," Dean said. "We just like helpin' others."

John bit his lip, some of his bravado fading. "What're you gonna do with me?"

Sam sat up, eyes sincere. "Do you still want to hurt humanity, John?" he asked.

The kid shook his head. "I just wanna fade into the background, forget Alcatraz."

Dean looked over at Sam, who met his gaze. "We can help there, John," Sam said, turning back to him.


Bobby helped them, getting John across the Atlantic. He could melt into the scores of people in Europe with ease. "Take care, kid," Dean told him. "Don't ever be afraid to call."

"Thanks again," John said. "That's twice now I owe you my life."

Dean grinned at him. "Don't mention it. Just stay outta trouble."

John nodded. "I'll try."


"He'll be fine, Dean," Sam said as they drove west, away from John's plane flying over the Atlantic. "You've done good with him."

Dean shrugged. "Just felt responsible for the kid, you know?"

Sam chuckled, giving Dean one of those you're just too cute for words looks Dean couldn't stand. "Yeah," he said. "I know."