Author's Note: Well, here's the end—a little epilogue to tie things up. We hope you've enjoyed our cracky little crossover and our cracky little ship. The title and the soundtrack for this segment is "Bad Reputation" by Joan Jett.
Spoilers: Spoilers for Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, Breaking Dawn, and all six seasons of "Supernatural."
Disclaimer: "Supernatural" is the property of Kripke Enterprises and Warner Bros. Television. The Twilight Saga is the property of Stephenie Meyer and Little, Brown and Co. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from this work.
Epilogue: Bad Reputation
Dean sighed and flopped down into the chair by the window. Sam approached him with two beers in his hand, still frosty from the fridge, and Dean took one gratefully. His brother joined him, and after twisting the tops off, Dean said, "Well, here's to Leah—now an official member of Team Free Will."
Sam bounced his eyebrows in agreement as they clinked the necks of their bottles together and each took a long drink.
It was just the two of them in their room; only their years of sharing such a setup could make it as comfortable as it was. After Cas had popped them back to their motel on the outskirts of the city, Leah had seized them both in back-breaking hugs and planted appropriately wolfish—excited, wet, and tongue-y—kisses on the two of them. Then, flushed and happy and nearly tearful with relief and joy, she had said that she was going to splurge a little with her first fake credit card and get her own room for the evening. She said the boys could both have their own beds, and she was going to take the opportunity for a nice, long, girly night for herself, in celebration of her newly-won freedom.
They'd sent her off with a pair of heartfelt smiles (and a pat on the ass from Dean), and after thanking Cas for his help, they'd gone inside to crash out after a long and eventful day. It was barely 4:00 in the afternoon, but it felt like the wee hours of the morning, what with how tired they were. All they had wanted was to do was get out of their itchy tuxedoes and back into their jeans, and then just chill.
Dean closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the cushions of his chair. Sam chewed thoughtfully on his lip for a while before he said, "You do know, Dean, that we're probably gonna have those supercharged vamps on our tail now. I mean, since they know we can kill 'em, they're gonna be out for our heads."
Dean gave a small, dry chuckle without opening his eyes. "Yeah—but I think the fact that we can kill 'em will make 'em think twice about tangling with us. I mean, you saw them, Sammy," he said, looking up at last. "They were all about attacking us when they thought we didn't stand a chance, but once they figured out that we did, they weren't so hot on the idea."
Sam gave a rude snort. "So, they're both dicks and pussies." He took another drink before musing, "Still, though—between the angelic blades we've been collecting in the trunk over the past few years, and now Leah, free to do what she wants—and Cas, of course—I think we're pretty well protected and ready for whatever comes after us."
Dean smirked. "And they're not the worst things that have come after us before, anyway. I wouldn't worry. We'll handle it, like we always do."
He dropped his head back again—but then opened one eye and slowly sat up, looking to the side with a raised eyebrow.
Having been living out of motels for practically their entire lives, they knew everything that went on in them, all the rules and quirks and idiosyncrasies of sharing space with strangers. And so when they heard the steady, rhythmic thumping against the wall adjoining the neighboring suite, they knew exactly what was going on.
"Heh." Dean smirked over at his brother.
Sam generally preferred to ignore whatever they might hear in their motel rooms, but with his voyeuristic brother, that was impossible. "Little early, isn't it?" he asked, rolling his eyes.
Dean shrugged. "Hey, man, Afternoon Delight." He lay his head back down, cradling his beer between his thighs—before raising his hands to start conducting to the sounds reverberating through their wall.
Sam couldn't help the laugh that escaped him, even as he winced. "Dude—how would you like knowing that someone was doing that while you were gettin' busy?"
"Well, I'd like to think I was doing a better job of it than them over there," Dean retorted. "They're hardly making any noise at all."
As if he'd summoned it, through the wall came a long, low, feminine moan, and Dean made a satisfied noise. "Atta boy," he said, raising his beer to the wall.
Sam just shook his head. "So," he said after a moment, studiously pretending not to hear the ever-more vigorous thumping and squeaking from next door, "are we just gonna go about our business and wait for these new vamps to come for us?"
Dean shrugged. "Don't see why I should bust my ass on open warfare. We'll hunt, like we always do, and we'll take whatever comes at us between gigs. We run across one of them, we'll call Leah."
"Yeah," Sam agreed. "I know she'll want a chance to get her teeth into one of them, even more than before, now that she can do whatever she wants and doesn't have to take their crap anymore."
"Bastards," Dean declared. "They have it coming." Then he raised his eyebrows at the sound of the escalating cries on the other side of the wall. "And they're not the only ones," he said, grinning.
Sam was not smiling; he could only stare at the wall, his mouth agape. "Ah—Dean—I—I think that's Leah."
The smile slid off Dean's face. "…What?"
Now they were both listening, only it wasn't funny at all anymore, and when the next shout came, they clearly heard it, a low, guttural and familiar alto.
"That isn't her," Dean said firmly.
"I'm pretty sure it is, Dean," Sam answered.
"Come on, man—no way!" Dean was shaking his head. "Give her some credit—we barely got back half an hour ago! What—you think right after we came in here she ran out and picked up some dude off the street?"
The realization struck them both at the same time, right as the thumping against the wall began to take on a frenzied pace, and they could only stare at each other with slowly dawning horror.
"She wouldn't…would she?" Dean sounded desperate to hear a contradiction.
Sam shook his head, whether in uncertainty or denial he didn't know, but it didn't matter, because at that very moment, they heard through the wall what was unmistakably Leah's voice cry out, "Hallelujah!"—and then every single light in their room exploded.
They leapt out of their seats as showers of sparks rained down on them, and they stared at each other for a split second, before Dean suddenly gave a shout of disgust and began batting wildly at his clothes where the sparks had fallen.
"Aw, Jesus, Sam—we just got spooged by an angel!"
Author's Note: And…scene.
Man, I am sad to see it done, but happy to have it posted and finished at the same time. You all know how it is. First off, a TON of thank yous—thank you to our two betas for not only being spectacularly thorough editors, but also for being an awesome test audience. Thank you for putting up with our fussing and our questions and doing it all with (what I hope was) a smile on your face.
I, Das Mervin, want to thank Mrs. Hyde for indulging me and letting me run wild with my crackship—while I had the idea, she was a huge part of writing this, so I'm glad you were nice and very happy that you had as much fun as I did with this project.
And finally, a huge thank you to everyone who commented and reviewed. Your words are what keep us inspired and keep us writing and keep us going. You have our sincerest gratitude.