Summary: Justice League xover! Sam and Dean figure people will trust costumed demon hunters more than two young guys on the road.

Disclaimer: Neither Supernatural or Justice League is mine.

When Sam was younger, he went through a truckload of Warrior Angel comics. He got them from Pastor Jim. He bought them from used bookstores. He stole them from new bookstores. He made friends with people too geeky for even him just to get those damn comics.

Bald alien who saved the planet; Dean didn't see the thrill. Not to mention, he was sure Warrior Angel and Devilicus had a thing going.

"Friends and then enemies." Dean shook his head. "They're just bitching like a married couple."

Sam looked up with a smirk. "How do you know they used to be friends?" Dean froze. "How do you even know who Devilicus is?" Dean shrugged, feigning nonchalance. Sam's smirk widened. "Have you been reading Warrior Angel, Dean?"

Dean snorted.

Sam turned back to his book. "I think Isis is really gonna' die soon," he mumbled.

Dean's face scrunched up in disgust. "About time. For a superhero, she's freaking –." He stopped himself too late.

Sam laughed his head off. "You're a geek! You're a geek!"

Sam was gone for six months. He went to college. He left Dean behind. Their first conversation should've been stilted, should've contained shouting and curse words. There were shouting and curse words but it wasn't in the context Dean thought it would be.

Dean took a deep breath and answered the phone. Then, he quickly pulled it away from his ear as Sam shouted, "Turn on the news channel!"

"What the hell?"


Dean turned it on. His jaw dropped. "Holy shit!"

Sam was talking nonstop. "It's on ever news channel, practically every newspaper, and all over the Internet! He's an alien, Dean! He's an honest-to-god, fell from space, alien!"

"Why isn't he green…and why doesn't he have tentacles?"

"He doesn't have to look weird," said Sam, though he sounded disappointed. He perked up. "Maybe he's using something to look different. Or he's like a shape shifter or something and he just made himself look like us."

"So, he might be green?"

"He might be green."

"He might have tentacles?"

"He might have tentacles."

A huge smile lit up Dean's face. "Sweet."

"They're calling him Superman. He's strong, fast, freezes things with his breath, he can see through things, and – get this – he's got heat vision!"

Dean sobered slightly. "Are we sure he ain't a demon?"

Sam didn't seem fazed. "Every hunter in the world is probably checking him out right now."

Sam's got a point. Someone else can investigate. Dean will settle for saying, "This is so freaking cool!" because, you know - alien!

"He can fly, Dean. They showed it on the news. He can really fly!"

Dean's smile went back to taking up his whole face. Sam sounded twelve again, proudly exclaiming that his big brother was a geek – which, you know, he wasn't.

Dean fell back on the motel bed, hands beneath his head. "I wonder how he gets laid."

There was silence on the phone, and then, "Maybe, that's where he's got his tentacle."

That comic was alright and the superheroes were just neat as all shit, but that didn't mean Dean was about to join the spandex brigade.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Where do you see spandex?"

Dean held up the gloves in one hand and the ski mask in the other. "This is the first step. It's gloves and a mask now, and, the next thing you know, we're decked out in bright-colored spandex."

"Well, you're either taking this first step or we're gonna' be dressed up in bright orange jumpsuits when we go to prison. Our prints are popping up all over the country. The FBI's not stupid, Dean. They'll catch up."

"You just want to copy Superman. Save it for Halloween, Sammy."

"Superman doesn't wear a mask or gloves," said Sam. "This is less like Superman and more like…Batman."

Dean cut his reply short because, really, Batman was just freaking cool. Instead, he snickered. "You know, you're the sidekick, right? Or you're the Psy-kick; sense the ghosts, tell the future…"

"You're the jackass."

How Psy-kick and Jackass – as they often called each other while wearing the masks - became Psyko and Jackal, they'll never know. Dean suspects it was that bitch of a reporter. What sane person ignores the ghost and bitches about what her rescuers are wearing?

"You call that a costume?" she had said. "I like the move away from spandex but jeans are for the public." She bit her lip. "Batman's got the rubber area covered. Try leather…and maybe slacks."

"Lady, move!"

Sam had to take his freaky mind shit overtime just to get her out of the building.

He read pieces of her article while they made there way through pancakes. "…all-black costumes…leather…Psyko and Jackal…You think she's trying to give us a hint?"

"Who cares?"

"…apparently psychic…"

"No, shit, lady," Dean muttered.

"…car is a more classical version of Batman's futuristic Batmobile…" Dean looked proud. Sam shook his head. "She called us the Hellhounds, said we saved her from a ghost."

"They let her print that?"

Sam put the paper aside and returned to his pancakes. "Why not? Aliens have attacked Earth a couple times. People are getting open-minded."

"Hmm." Dean watched Sam eat for a few minutes. He shifted in his seat. "Black might not be so bad."

Sam finished chewing. "Leather jackets are tough. They could offer some protection."

Dean leaned forward in his seat. "We could get those vests like the SWAT guys."

"I think we still have those in the trunk."

Dean licked his lips, considering. "Yeah, all black…"

Sam leaned forward now. "We could get goggles." Dean stared at him. "Night-vision goggles," Sam elaborated. "We don't usually hunt in broad daylight."

"You're a geek. Hey! Don't we need a symbol or something? Superman's got the S. Flash gets the lightening. We need a symbol."

"You're not serious." Ellen held back their bottles of beer, as if afraid they were already drunk. "It's a fad, boys."

"We know that," Dean grouched.

Sam put on his best smile. "Fad or not, people trust costumed crime-fighters - ."

" – demon hunters - ," cut in Dean.

Sam continued, "More than they trust two young guys on the road. We're just taking advantage of that."

Ellen let go of their beer. "Even criminals dress up these days. What you're planning to wear, you ain't gonna' look like one of the good guys."

Dean took a drink of his beer. "That reporter already made us up as good guys."

Ellen cocked an eyebrow.

"It's Lois Lane," said Sam. "She introduced Superman. People trust her. They already have websites up about us." The last sentence was said with a touch of giddiness.

Bobby came up behind Ellen. He dropped his book on the bar. "I got your symbol." He pointed out the devil's trap in the middle of the page.

"You need a symbol?" Ellen asked, disbelieving.

"We're going to look like criminals. They need to recognize us. With a symbol, they'll know it's us."

"Yeah, I heard Flash got his lightening bolt ripped off once and went into Gotham." Dean whistled. "Batman caught him."

"You think you'll meet Batman?" asked Bobby.

Ellen shook her head. "I'll leave you little boys to your homework."

Since the Justice League formed, the independent superheroes hadn't gotten any extreme press. They landed in pages two or three but not number one. So, really, nobody should fault them for looking so damn smug.

"We kicked ass," said Dean.

The Hellhounds were on the front page of every popular newspaper in the country. They had worldwide recognition.

They killed one demon.

That one demon psychically held tethers for at least two-dozen more demons, all possessing those in government. Sam did his freaky mind shit while Dean restrained the demon. A cameraman showed up while they were working. The end of the exorcism was on live television.

Dean hit a button on the remote. It began to rewind.

Sam threw a pillow at it. "You taped it?"

Dean smacked the pillow aside. "You don't want to watch it?"

Sam was silent.

"Then sit back, and shut the hell up, bitch."


Professionals surrounded them. They needed to be dignified.

"You're even hotter in person," Dean told Hawkgirl.

The Flash appeared beside her. "The camera adds pounds." He was on the other side of the room before she even picked up her mace.

Wonderwoman shook her head, "Men."

Dean smiled at her. "We have our good qualities."

"You don't."

By the elevator, Sam took his hands from Superman's head. "It's a little different but I can still get in your head."

Superman frowned. "The last meta-human I met said it would be impossible."

"My abilities seem to be supernatural in origin."

"I suppose that would explain it. I react differently to magic."

Green Lantern called from the middle of the room, impatiently, "We do need your help with something."

"Don't get your panties in a twist, GL," said Flash. "We got to wait for Bats."

A voice came from the corner of the room. "I'm here."

Hawkgirl jumped.

Flash rolled his eyes. "Showoff."

Batman ignored them and went to the head of the meeting table. The others crowded around. "Lex Luthor has been performing the steps to a summoning ritual." They took the pictures he passed them. "Those are what I managed to get off the camera. We were able to translate some of the symbols but some are out of sight and others seem to pinpoint certain demonic entities."

"How'd you get the camera in?" said Dean.

"One of Luthor's security consultants."

Green Lantern snorted. "Let me guess; he just needed a little persuasion from you."

"Not me." He looked at Superman.

Superman blushed. "He was a little afraid of heights."

Bald alien who saved the planet; Dean's decided he's as cool as every other superhero – as in really freaking cool.

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