Summary: X-Men xover. The Winchesters always knew they were freaks; hunting does that to a man. But what if their oddities didn't stop there? What if they were 'supernaturally' evolved? Post X2 & AHBL2.
Disclaimer: Sadly I do not own Supernatural or X-Men and if I did why would I be wasting my time writing fanfiction? Couldn't I just go and make this a reality, so it would canon? Anyway Supernatural and X-Men belong to their respective owners.
Prologue: The Beginning of Mutation
Since the dawn of existence there have always been moments when the course of history has shifted. Over twenty two years ago such an event occurred when two young brothers took up the Hunt.
Their conflict against evil and indeed other's conflict was merely the building blocks for the final battle. When a time comes for humans, hunters and mutants to unite as one, there will be no turning back. The outcome will change the world so greatly, and victory may not even by possible.
Great sacrifice will be needed and the fate of many will be decided when humanity makes it last stand.
- Professor X
Blue Star Apartments, Queens, New York City, New York
"Dean, pay attention," growled John, as his oldest son's eyes darted from the TV to him. Dean sighed and turned his fierce green eyes to his dad. He said in a soft tone, "Yes sir,"
"That's better. This is important – now remember –"
"Go straight to school and home again. Don't let anyone into this room other than Sammy and I, and if someone does come in shoot first, ask questions later. Don't answer the phone, if it's you, you'll hang up and then ring again. I know dad, I won't make the same mistake again," said the thirteen year old at top speed. John had to admit Dean hadn't let him down since that day, but it still didn't stop him from worrying that another slip up had happened. John knew that Dean would never intentionally endanger his little brother, but he was young and ready to make mistakes.
"Okay Dean, and if I'm not back by Sunday night?"
"Call Pastor Jim, and if I can't get onto him, Caleb," said Dean, "And also watch Sammy – very carefully,"
John nodded, "That's my man," and he took one last look at his youngest son, as he lay fast asleep on the couch, his curly brown mop the only part visible under a large blanket. He ruffled Dean's hair, picked up a bag and guns, and he left the motel room.
He pushed his belongings into the car boot and as he drove away from the apartment block, he threw back one last glance, praying that his sons would be safe.
"C'mon Sammy, get up," said Dean at eight in the morning as he stood above the couch where his little brother lay fast asleep. The nine year olds' eyes fluttered open, and a soft perky voice said, "Herro,"
Dean sighed and went into the kitchenette and began to prepare breakfast, and wished he hadn't woken Sammy up after John had left to watch Home Alone; the poor kid was exhausted especially after the coke.
"Sam, get up," said Dean. Sam grumbled, but rose and went into the bedroom. As Dean poured out the cereal, he could hear Sam rummaging in the bags. Sam came out dressed in a baggy flannel shirt, ripped jeans and thick soled boots. Sam sat up at the table and quickly dug into the Lucky Charms cereal. Dean was about to join his younger brother but froze as a strange ringing filled his ears. His eyes widened and he felt his hand shaking, slightly. God…he felt so weird…so…
"Dean?" asked Sam, curiously staring at him.
"Peachy," offered Dean, throwing a weak smile though he actually felt like his head would explode. It was as if suddenly he had a million different emotions rocketing within him, and he didn't know how to react to them. He glanced at the clock and seeing as he had forty five minutes to get to school he hurried Sam along.
Soon the two brothers – wrapped in thick coats and scarfs, with matching mittens over their hands, were trudging through the snow covered footpath to school, the icy cold wind trying to push them to the ground as they walked. Dean listened as Sam went on about how water was seeping through his shoes, and whether or not he would get frostbite. Dean, who normally would have listened intently to Sam, but this time he couldn't, his mind was else where, escaping from the pain that racked his head.
They soon reached Sam's Primary School, which was a classic red brick building that now seemed to lie under a thick layer of snow. The two brothers watched as children ran from their parent's car and to the building. Dean envied the kid's that got driven to school – that was luxury they didn't have. He sighed and glanced at his watch.
"Meet me out the front after school Sammy," said Dean, briskly.
"Okay, see you later!" said Sam, hugging Dean tightly. Dean smiled slightly but then pushed away his little brother, gesturing for him to go to school. He watched carefully as Sam walked cautiously up to the school building, careful not to slip and fall into the ice.
As soon as Sam was inside, Dean went off at full speed towards the Middle School, praying that he'd get there in time. As he walked his headache only got worse.
He sat through class after class, barely taken notice as his teachers talked. It seemed as alien thoughts were invading his mind, making him feel a range of different emotions pounding in his subconscious.
Finally as last period started, he felt like he could explode, literally. His head pounded and he felt slightly numbed. Words passed through him, as his concentration slipped until his head lay on his desk.
"Dean?" came a light female voice from above him. Dean glanced up to see his Maths teacher, Ms. Mein, watching him closely. He shivered slightly as a web of motherly concern seemed to seep into him. He was sure it was coming from her, but her expression remained unreadable.
"Sorry m'am," said Dean slowly, "Won't happen again, I'm just tired,"
Ms. Mein observed her pupil for a few moments before saying, "Are you sure you don't need to go to the nurse's office?"
Dean replied a quick no, and Ms. Mein sighed but moved back up to the front of the glass. Dean looked back down at his maths text book and tried to work through it - though he might as well been trying to achieve the complete eradication of all evil – it wasn't going to happen.
Dean gazed absent mindly at the clock above the blackboard, willing the minutes to just roll by. Fortunately they did and soon the loud chiming of the bell rang through the school. Dean's entire class leapt to their feet, grateful that the weekend was finally there.
As he left the class with another boy called Lucas, he tuned in as the red head animatedly discussed his plans for the approaching Christmas holidays. Dean felt a small burn of jealously as he heard that Lucas was going to some nice big fancy resort in Aspen with his family and everything.
"So, what are you doing?" asked Lucas as Dean packed his bag.
"Dunno," shrugged Dean, "Think Dad's taken us to Blue Earth,"
"It's in Minnesota," said Dean and glancing at the time, he quickly farewelled his friend, walking at a brisk pace to Sam's school. As he walked, a gentle breeze ruffled his short hair cooling his face and only slightly clearing his head. Though as he passed a woman in the street he felt his heart literally break in two. He shook off the feeling and continued on his way.
"DEAN!" cheered Sam, racing towards his brother. As he attempted to stop he slipped but Dean quickly leapt forward and let his little brother's weight fall against his own. Sam straightened up and the brothers resumed their walk home.
"So what homework do you have?" asked Sam.
"Maths, science. You?"
"I have to read a book," shrugged Sam. Dean nodded though he barely took notice as his head once again pounded and he felt a strange desire to dance in the middle of the street…
They reached their apartment block and headed up the three flights of stairs (the elevator was broken) to their small living conditions. Sam immediately pulled off his coat and grabbed his school book and went over to the couch. Dean turned on the television, watching as actors waltzed across the screen.
The next morning as the sun rose above the people of New York, young Samuel Winchester woke up. His dark brown eyes snapped open and he lifted his head from under the warm and cosy doona.
His small feet hit the carpet and without a second thought he trotted off to find his big brother Dean. Like most nine year olds, he rose early in the morning and also he wasn't tall enough to reach the cereal box. Sam walked into the small bedroom that had two single beds. Dean lay on one of them, still fully dressed, mouth slightly open as he snored softly.
Sam's sharp eyes quickly picked up a shotgun in the corner of the room, from where Sam was, he could tell it was loaded and ready to shoot. He eyed it in distaste, hating the fact that his whole life had pretty much been brought up around weapons training.
His stomach suddenly made a short grumbling sound and he ignored the gun and proceeded to Dean. He shook his older brother roughly, saying his name softly. Dean's eyes slowly opened, dull from lack of sleep.
"Wha' da prob' Sammy?" he yawned.
"I'm hungry," said Sam, softly.
"Then get some Lucky Charms," said Dean, turning over.
Dean sighed heavily, and Sam could tell that he was slightly annoyed, but none the less Dean got up and ambled into the tiny kitchenette. Sam followed his big brother out of the bedroom and watched as his brother reached up from his amazing height and got the Lucky Charms.
"You good to go?" asked Dean. Sam nodded and placed the cereal box on the table, and went into the fridge to get milk.
"Dean, do you want the pri – are you okay?" said Sam, looking at Dean. The older boy's dull eyes suddenly had a pained expression. Dean staggered and fell to the ground, gripping his head.
"Dean!" cried out Sam, dropping the cartoon of milk. He darted over to his brother and bent down, unsure on what to do. Dean was shaking, and gasping for air like a fish out of water.
"Dean? What's wrong? Dean?"
"Head…hurts…" whispered Dean. Sam's body filled with panic. He looked around in a state of hopelessness, wondering what to do. He spied the phone, and an idea clicked in his head. He grabbed the phone and his fingers sprawled across the buttons, as he dialled his dad's mobile number. He held the receiver up to his ear and waited.
"C'mon Dad," he said softly – though he knew John was probably out of range.
"Hi, this is John Wi –"
"Dad! Dean's sick –"
"-nchester and I'm sorry to say I can't talk to you right now. Please leave a message and number after the beep and I'll get back to you,"
Sam's face paled and he left a quick message. He then dialled Pastor Jim's number, praying that the pastor would pick up. Sam heard the small click of the phone being picked up on the other end of the line.
"Hello, this is Pastor Jim spe –"
"Pastor Jim! Dean's hurt, he's got a real bad –" started Sam at top speed, glancing anxiously at Dean as he spoke.
"Sam, please slow down, I can't understand you," came Pastor Jim's calm voice through the phone line, "Now what is the problem? And where is John?"
"I wanted some breaky but I couldn't get the Lucky Charms so I woke up Dean for help. And then he collapsed. He hasn't fainted but he's really pale and sick,"
"And you're dad?"
"I dunno, he went on a hunt in…Winslow,"
"Okay so where are you?"
"New York, Blue Star Apartment, Queens, Room 9,"
"Okay, listen I'll call Caleb, and he'll come, okay. You know the knock?"
Sam nodded, of course he did, and it was something John drilled into the boys all the time. The knock was for if Bobby or Jim or Caleb had to get to him or Dean when John wasn't around. He said into the phone, "Yes sir,"
"Good, I'll keep trying to get onto your father. Look after Dean – if he gets really bad please call an ambulance,"
"Yes sir," said Sam. The phone disconnected and Sam placed it down. He then went and helped Dean up. Once he got Dean onto the couch, he went to get a cool pack. He glanced back, and saw as Dean's face contorted in pain. He grabbed a cool pack, glancing at the clock, wishing that Caleb or even John would hurry up.
Woodstock, Windham, Connecticut
Caleb lay on a hotel bed, half asleep. He had just finished a simple salt and burn and he couldn't wait to get back to Lincoln, back to making more weapons for the various hunters that stopped by. Suddenly his phone began to beep. He felt around his jean pockets and soon found the piece of crap he called his phone.
"Hello, Caleb speaking," he said.
"Caleb, its Jim Murphy," came the Pastor's voice.
"What's the problem?" he said quickly, getting off the bed.
"Little Sammy Winchester just called me. Dean's not well and John's out of range," said Pastor Jim, "You're still in Connecticut right?"
"Yeah, want me to go and look after them?"
"Yes, I'd go but you'll get there quicker,"
"Course, where are they?" said Caleb, picking up some pen and paper.
"Blue Star Hotel, Apartment, New York, Room 9,"
"Okay, I'll be on the road in ten," said Caleb and he hung up. He began to pack his bags, and then he lugged them onto his back. He paid for his accommodation and then left the hotel. Hopping into his car, he started the engine and quickly drove off to New York.
John Winchester sat in his hotel room, researching the recent murders that he believed were connected to the imprint of an angry spirit. Suddenly his phone began to beep and he picked it up. It was Pastor Jim.
As he listened to his old friend, his blood turned to ice, fear evident on his face. The spirit could wait – his sons needed him.
Blue Star Apartment, Queens, New York City, New York
Caleb pulled up in front of the cheap hotel. He rocketed out of his car and passed through the empty receptionist and down the dingy hallway that led to the rooms. He quickly found Room 9 and knocked it, with the special knock.
He heard the scraping of locks and then the door cracked open, revealing a small browned eyed boy. The boy's face brightened and Caleb stepped over the think line of salt that had been set and into the room.
"Caleb thank god you're here," said Sam, tugging Caleb into the bedroom, "Dean's not getting better, his headache really hurts,"
Caleb looked into the bedroom, and saw Dean Winchester, curled up in a ball, face white, shaking, muttering things under his breath.
"Dean –?" he began.
"Shut up! Get them out! Get them out!" yelped Dean, green eyes wide with fright.
"Dean, what's wro –"
"GET OUT!" screamed Dean. Caleb went forward to comfort the young hunter but, to his shock, Dean lashed out, striking a painful blow to Caleb's stomach and the kid kept on hitting. Caleb immediately grabbed Dean's wrist and pushed the kid away. Dean backed off and started to calm down, though he had began shaking again. Caleb left the room and as he walked to the kitchen table, Sam looked up at the hunter with wide eyes and said simply Dean had a really bad headache.
Caleb didn't know of any headache that made people react like that and frankly he was worried. Suddenly the apartment door banged open and a worried man with a scruffy beard strolled in.
"Dad!" exclaimed Sam, relieved that finally his dad was here. John nodded in greeting to his youngest and went over to Caleb.
"Did you just get here Caleb?"
"Do you know –?"
"Nope, but he's got a pretty bad headache according to Sam…"
"He kicked me, he was violent," said Caleb in a low hushed voice so Sam couldn't hear. John frowned and approached his eldest's room. Caleb heard a short discussion exchange between the father and son that was inaudible to him. John came out and said in low voice, "I think we need to get Dean to a doctor."
3 Days Later, X-Mansion, Salem Centre, New York
Charles Xavier sat in his office in his school for mutant teenagers and watched as Scott Summers left his room, after a lengthy discussion. The telepathic mutant couldn't understand why the young teenager kept on pulling dangerous and somewhat perverted pranks on the student body. Sure he could read minds, but still just because he knew why but he didn't…well you get the point…
Charles really felt for him, after all he knew the frustration that leaked from the boy's mind because of his inability to control the red optical blasts. Charles had hoped the last three months at the X-Mansion would help improve the sixteen year olds' attitude, but so far it had only worsened. Oh, what was he going to do?
He rubbed his temple but then smiled, as he felt a familiar presence enter his mind. He looked up as a tall man, in an expensive black suit entered the room. This man's name was Erik Lensherr.
"And to what do I owe the pleasure Erik?"
"Surely you know," chuckled Erik, "Summers up to no good again?"
"Yes, unfortunately," said Charles, softly. Erik nodded in sympathy and then said, "Bobby da Costa has run off campus again, something about seeing his 'girlfriend',"
"So I'm thinking it would be a perfect time to use Cerebro, since I am unable to locate him," shrugged Erik. Charles nodded and then got out of his seat, and then he and Erik went down stairs to the lower levels where the students were forbidden to go. They walked along the plain white corridors to a locked door that led into Cerebro.
As they walked down the white sterile hallway, Charles felt a little dig of excitement. He liked using the Cerebro; the sense of being able to connect with the world was very powerful and spiritual, though he did feel sorry that Erik could never experience such a feeling.
He strolled into the large circular completely metal room; and along the platform to a small stand that held a helmet. He lifted the helmet onto his head and activated Cerebro. Suddenly the room darkened, and Charles connected to what seemed like the entire universe.
He located Bobby a.k.a Sunspot without too much trouble in the company with a teenage human girl. But something drew his attention away from his solar absorbing student; a young mutant that appeared to be in New York City. He could feel the distress and distraught of the young teenager, that the boy's gifts had just emerged.
He took off the silver helmet, blue eyes grave and said to Erik, "We have a more serious problem then Mr. da Costa's love life."
New York General Hospital, New York City, New York
Erik Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier sat in the front of a luxury black car outside the NY General Hospital. Both men were dressed in smart suits and had barely moved since they had arrived. They watched as various members of the public left and entered, not a word spoken between them. Finally Erik broke the silence.
"Are we going to go in? Or should I just go to a pub in the meantime?"
"Surely you're too old for a pub?" jibed Charles.
"No older than you," snapped back Erik. Charles shrugged and then opened the car door. The two men got out and approached the hospital, the moonlight casting a strange light on their faces. They entered the large foyer which was full, and went up to the receptionist. They stood in line for about a minute listing to the various queries people were making. Finally they reached the top of the queue. Erik watched as Charles worked his magic on the pretty blonde receptionist, in a smooth controlled voice. Erik envied his friend, wishing that he had those abilities.
"Can you please tell me which room Dean Winchester is in?"
The blonde receptionist looked through her papers and said, "Level 2, room 204,"
"Thank you," said Charles. Erik and Charles went to the lift and went up to the second level. As they went out, they saw a tall man with dark brown hair and serious brown eyes arguing to a doctor.
"What do you mean?" said the man.
"We have reason to believe that your son may have a psychological problem," said the doctor, "I'm sure you've noticed that Dean seems to mentally collapse at the presence of others – excluding Samuel,"
Erik and Charles quickly absorbed this information, though Erik could have laughed at the ignorance of the doctor. But he decided that this was neither the place nor time. Erik knew that the man must be Dean Winchester's father, and as they passed him and the doctor, the doctor said instantly, "Let's continue this discussion downstairs,"
Erik knew that Charles was tapping into his power again, and he didn't blame him. After all how awkward would it be if the father walked in on two strangers talking to his son? He'd probably call the cops and get them arrested.
"Of course," said Mr. Winchester, and as Erik turned his head back, he noticed that Mr. Winchester's eyes had a glazed look to them.
Once the hallway was clear Erik and Charles, went to the outside of room 201. As the entered the darkened room, Erik's sharp eyes picked up a boy on the bed, hugging his knees and another on a recliner beside the bed, fast asleep. The boy on the bed seemed to be muttering various Latin phrases under his breath, his eyes closed, breath rushed. He was cold, Erik could instantly tell, his whole body seemed to shake and shiver, as the fan above went around and around, emitting a soft humming noise as it did. Erik eyed it in annoyance and with a single flick of his wrist the metal blades stopped as well as the motor. The boy glanced up, green eyes wide and fierce.
"Who the hell are you?" he said instantly in an assertive voice.
"I am Charles Xavier and this is Mr. Lensherr, Dean," said Charles calmly. Dean looked confused as Charles said those names, they meant nothing to him, so were they Child Services…his body tensed and his green eyes turned to a harsh glare.
"What the hell are you doing here?" said Dean forcefully, and then he groaned, closing his eyes.
"Dean, I am here to help,"
"I don't need any help, my dad has never –"
"Huh?" said Erik before he could stop himself. Dean eyed them both and said in a soft voice, that in some ways shocked Erik after the attitude he had showed before, "So you're not from Child Services,"
Child Services! Why in the devil would the boy be thinking about that? Unless…Erik thought back to the boy's father in the hall, the rough steely look he had about him, certainly not the look you expected from a father with young sons.
"No Dean, we are not from Child Services," said Charles in a calm voice, and Erik could only wonder what the telepath had gleamed from the teenager's mind. Judging by his friend's slight expression it wasn't too his liking.
"Then where are you from? Who sent you?" said Dean, his voice rising, fist clenched in a small ball.
"I am a Headmaster of a school," the boy looked very perplexed at those words, "for people with gifts and I would like you to attend,"
"What?" said Dean in an off hand voice, his mind racing as a million possible idea's jumped into his head on how he came into the interest of this guy after living under the radar for most of his life.
"To put it simply, a school for mutants"
"You have got to be kidding me…" muttered Dean sarcastically, as he tried to hide his shock but Erik could tell the boy knew that had to be it. His face was like an open book at that moment. Dean's eyes were wide but he quickly narrowed them and said, "So you're saying I'm a freak then,"
"A freak, my dear boy?" said Erik in a low dangerous voice.
"Yeah, what's it to you? Bet you're one too?"
"Why don't you –"
"Erik," said Charles sharply, "Dean, please just calm down, just listen,"
"Why should I?" said Dean. He stood up, fists clenched, but he began to wobble and he had to grip the bed for support. Under his breath, Erik could hear him muttering, "Get them outta my head…please God," his face contorted in pain, as Erik could only imagine, the boy felt the soft whispers of other's emotions.
Charles sighed and took two brief steps over to Dean and held the boy's weight against his own. He coaxed Dean's still light frame onto the bed and whispered words to calm the boy. Dean struggled against the elder mutant but Charles surprisingly strong grip kept him in place.
"Dean, please calm down," commanded Charles in a soft voice. Green eyes stared back into blue eyes, unable to look away. The boy's body seem to slacken under the powerful gaze, and his breathing slowed, his face calm.
"I don't get it…" mumbled Dean softly, his voice breaking as he said those four simple words, that teenagers all over the world say every single day. He felt no denial, the denial he wanted to feel to the revelation but he couldn't…this wasn't natural and he was sure he wasn't possessed, so that had to be the reason he was feeling like a magnet for emotions recently.
"I know this is a confusing time, but this is way I'm here, my school can help you Dean, help you learn to control your gift," said Charles slowly, "You're not alone in this,"
Dean glanced at Charles, mouth opened slightly, as he contemplated his decision. A decision, that would in no doubt change Dean Winchester's life, forever. Dean's expression had become unreadable, and Erik thought they had him, when he shook his head mutely.
"I have to protect Sammy, it's my job," said Dean, stealing a glance at the small boy that lay asleep. Erik took a long hard look at the kid, who was possibly only nine or eight. He looked so innocent, with the curly brown bangs hanging over his chubby little face. Erik continued to look at the boy; he began to feel a strange forbidding about him, as if the child wasn't as innocent as he looked, but in fact dangerous.
Erik surveyed Dean's eyes and saw an over protectiveness that only a big brother could have. It seemed to Erik, that Dean would even risk his life for his little brother's safety.
"I understand," said Charles with a small nod, 'But just in case –"
Charles placed a smooth hand on Dean's forehand, and the boy watched mesmerised, unable to move. Erik watched as his friend concentrated on his objective, his face still. After a minute crawled by, the telepath withdrew his hands.
"What did you do?" asked Dean, in wonder, his head feeling clear and no longer muddled.
"I placed a mind block – something to keep your powers in check," explained Charles.
"So I won't…?"
"No, you will always be able to know how people feel – I can't get rid of that, it is who you are, but this will suppress it so it's more bearable,"
Dean nodded a silent thanks. Erik was disappointed about what Charles had done. He didn't like the idea of suppressing powers; in fact it was pretty much denying the potential that had to come with them.
"Shut up Erik, you knew why I did it," whispered Charles in his mind. Erik sighed and the two mutants bade goodnight to Dean and turned to leave. Just before they left, Charles pulled out a small card and floated it over to Dean with telekinesis. The teenager caught it, slightly shocked.
"Just in case you ever need help, that'll contact me directly," explained Charles before leaving and then without another word, he left with Erik close behind him. They passed Mr. Winchester in the hospital foyer, and Erik wondered if Dean would tell his father of the events that had transpired. He doubted he would.
Erik and Charles wandered out into the night and towards their car a softly spoken conversation taken place.
"Well that was interesting,"
"Charles, did you by any chance -?"
"Receive a strange vibe off Dean's little brother?" said Charles instantly, reading his friend's mind, "Yes, I did. I have a feeling that there is more to come from the Winchesters, a lot more."
Author's Notes: This story can be considered a Season 3 A.U. as it picks up after the events as All Hell Breaks Lose Part 2. For X-men movie verse this picks up after X2.