Re-Rewriting History by Emachinescat
A Merlin and Supernatural Fan-Fiction Crossover
SUMMARY: Merlin is saved in the nick of time from the Dorocha's icy touch by three strange men wielding salt and a flame-thrower. Sam, Dean, and Cass in a circle of salt all night with a flabbergasted Merlin, Arthur, and knights. The Winchesters are re-rewriting history – and having a heck of a good time doing it, too.
A/N: This is my first time ever venturing into the world of Supernatural. I recently became addicted and have been wanting to write a fic. This is kind of an AU to the premiere of season four of Merlin. It started out as a crack-fic then developed into something much more – character depth, conversations, angst, friendship, and, yeah, some humor. It takes place during 4x1 of Merlin and early in the fourth season of Supernatural. And don't worry, all loose ends about how and why are filled in by Cass at the end, so if you get to wondering, just wait. It's coming – along with an original twist that I was quite happy with. So here's hoping you'll enjoy… Please REVIEW! :)
The Dorocha was coming at Arthur faster than he could comprehend what was happening. He felt his insides seize up in panic – a foreign emotion to the prince, really, but these icy spirits were really messing with his head – and his heart pounded furiously behind his rib cage. This was it. He was going to die, and then Merlin would, too, because Arthur hadn't been able to protect him. The thought sickened the prince. Why the hell hadn't they brought any fire along on their little firewood hunt? Arthur had failed – he'd failed his knights, his kingdom, and he'd failed Merlin.
Suddenly, a hand was on his shoulder, pushing him down. For a moment, Arthur thought it was another Dorocha, coming at him from behind. But no – this was a hand, solid, real, and warm. Merlin. As soon as Merlin shoved Arthur to the ground, the prince realized what he was planning. Horror set in as he watched Merlin jump in front of the creature. No! Arthur internally shouted but he couldn't seem to get any sound past the lump of fear in his throat.
Just as the translucent, grinning skeleton was about to touch Merlin, there was a bright flash of light, a muffled bang, and suddenly three men were standing in between Merlin and the Dorocha. One of them let out an angry shout and quickly adjusted some sort of contraption in one of his hands. With scary accuracy, he shot fire seemingly out of his hand, fire brighter and more intense than any Arthur had ever seen. The Dorocha shrieked and zoomed away, only to come at another man, the tallest one, with a bone-chilling scream, but the man didn't so much as flinch. He raised some sort of weapon, shaped like an 'L' with a hole in one end, and pulled back a small lever with one finger. There was a bang and something shot out of the weapon, plunging into the dead spirit, and the thing screamed and disappeared.
Merlin and Arthur got to their feet even as the doors were thrown open and Gwaine, Leon, Lancelot, Elyon, and Percival rushed in, one torch between them. They glanced around, eyes wide, and at the sight of the strangers, unsheathed their swords. Arthur quickly motioned for them to stand down, grateful beyond belief that these mysterious people had saved them – saved Merlin – from the spirit. He was so relieved that he almost wasn't freaked out by their suspiciously magic-like appearance – literally popping out of thin air. Breathing hard, he took a step closer to their rescuers.
"Thank you," he said truthfully. "Is it dead?"
The shorter one shook his head. "No. The flame-thrower scared it away and the iron bullet drove it away for a little while, but that sunuvabitch'll be back. And I'll bet there's plenty more where it came from, am I right?"
Arthur nodded. He tried to get a better look at their rescuers but the dim, flickering torchlight made it difficult to see any details, so he decided he would just have to distinguish them by their height until he could see them better. Two of them were about the same height, the two shorter ones, but the prince could tell them apart because one was wearing what looked like a long coat that hung around his body. "They're everywhere."
"Thank you. You saved my life." Arthur nearly jumped when Merlin spoke up, having almost forgotten his servant was there. Normally he yakked away about anything and everything, but he'd been quiet since the close call and Arthur was almost surprised to hear him speak.
The tallest man chuckled slightly. "Our pleasure. After all, we just saved Merlin." He sounded a little giddy and Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, not that anyone could see it in the dim light.
"Anybody else wondering who the heck these chuckleheads are?" Gwaine's voice rang out from somewhere amidst the herd of knights.
The shorter one without the coat snapped his head around. "That's my word, man. Get your own."
Gwaine simply guffawed.
For the first time, the man in the coat spoke, and his voice sounded strained. "Perhaps it would be wise to stop fighting over vocabulary and secure the area, Dean," he said to his companion. Sounding vaguely confused, the deep, rough, but not unkind voice added, "I'm fairly certain that the words cannot belong to one person only."
"It's an expression – aw, heck, never mind. You're right, Cass. Sammy?"
"It's Sam," corrected the tall one.
"Whatever. Got the salt?"
"Of course I do. When don't I? I'm your personal pack mule, aren't I, dude?"
The other man replied all-too-cheerily. "Yep. One of the perks of being a little brother."
Ah. So these two strange men that bantered back and forth maybe even more than Arthur and Merlin were brothers. Arthur wondered distantly if perhaps the other man was a brother too.
Leon's voice spoke up. "Salt? How is salt going to help us defeat the Dorocha?"
The shorter man, Dean, he'd been called, snorted. "It's not. But it will hold it at bay for a while until we figure out a way to destroy it for good."
The tall one, Sammy, uh, Sam, spoke up. "We need a fire. We're not sure if salt'll hold these guys off indefinitely; we've never encountered this kind of spirit before."
Dean made an impatient noise in his throat. "Dude, supernatural refrigerator or not, it's still a spirit, which means salt'll repel it."
The third man shook his head. "Sam is right, Dean."
Dean sighed. "Fine. Let's go light a fire."
"We've got one," Lancelot spoke up. Arthur glanced over to him. "We've not got a lot of wood left, but there is a fire."
"Well what're we waiting for?" Dean asked, pulling out another weapon like Sam's and holding it out in front of him. "Let's go seal up camp."
He and the other two men took the lead, even though they had no way of knowing where the fire actually was, but to Arthur's surprise he found he didn't even mind them taking charge. Whoever these strangers were, and wherever they'd come from, it was obvious that they knew about this kind of thing and for once, Arthur was content to let someone else handle the magical threat.
Those Dorocha had really messed with his head.
When they got back to the fire, Sam and Dean immediately began to pour what looked like salt out of big, round containers. Merlin watched, fascinated, as they made a huge circle of salt around the camp, leaving enough room in the circle for all of the men to fit in comfortably. Merlin noticed that they took special care to not leave any gaps in the circle. They then threw in some firewood they'd all collected along the way back and stoked up the flames.
Almost as soon as they got the salt laid down, there was a terrible, blood-curdling scream and everyone's head snapped around to see two Dorocha zipping toward them at lightning pace. Sam and Dean readied their weapons, but as it turned out, they didn't need to. The spirits couldn't get past the salt. "Yahtzee," Dean said, grinning, and Merlin wondered if that was some kind of incantation to keep evil away.
The Dorocha backed off but still lingered in the distance and more gathered with them. But they couldn't go past the salt.
So Merlin turned around and got his first good look at his saviors.
The short one without a coat had short cropped, sandy hair, green eyes, and wore a loose shirt made of strange material, blue pants that hung loosely around his legs, and a black jacket. His face was ruggedly handsome and he had a regal-looking nose and jawline, strangely reminding Merlin of Arthur. The tallest had dark brown hair that was rather shaggy, olive-brown eyes, and wore clothes very similar to his brother's. His expression was softer than Dean's but Merlin could see that he – that both he and Dean – had been through a lot, just by looking into their eyes. The third man was even stranger, standing slumped but confident in his tan coat and strangely tailored suit. He had black hair and the most intense blue eyes Merlin had ever encountered. They almost unnerved him. He also noticed that there was blood on his face, still seeping from his nose. He looked exhausted and in pain.
"Are you alright?" Merlin blurted, wondering when the man had been hurt. He hadn't thought any of them had been attacked, and since when did a Dorocha just leave its victim with a bloody nose?
The man straightened slightly, grimaced, but said in his gravelly voice, "I will be fine. Traveling through time and space tends to strain me. Once I have rested, I will be in prime working condition once more."
Merlin saw Arthur raise an eyebrow. "Time and space?"
"Yeah, we're from the future," Dean supplied, grinning. "The year 2009, complete with sweet rides, real rock and roll, the best bars and burgers and beer, and plenty of hot, frisky women."
Gwaine perked up. "Really?" He sounded much more interested. "And how would one, hypothetically, be able to travel through time and space in order to visit this heaven-on-earth? You know, hypothetically."
Dean grinned. "You're alright, dude. Which one are you again?"
Gwaine blinked. "Huh?"
"You know, which knight? Sammy's been fan-girling about all you Arthurian legends ever since Cass told us we were comin' to help you out. Are you Lancelot? Or, uh—"
"Percival. Bedevere. Gawain." Sam quickly counted off several names.
"It's Gwaine," Gwaine corrected. Merlin was simply trying to figure out what was going on. Were these men seers? How did they know so much? They claimed to be 'from the future' but that sounded pretty far-fetched, even by Merlin's standards.
"No," said Sam resolutely. "I'm pretty sure it's Gawain. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight."
Gwaine snorted. "They must have some pretty good beer where you come from, mate."
Dean chuckled. "Well, Gwaine, nice to meet you. I'm Dean. This is my brother Sammy. And Cass."
"Thank you again for saving us." Arthur was sincere and Merlin couldn't help but smile at the way Arthur had changed for the better in the past four years.
"Eh, it's kinda what we do," Dean said. "Saving people, hunting things – the family business."
"I'm sorry," Elyon cut in, but he didn't really sound sorry at all, "but am I the only one wondering who the hell this is?"
The black-haired man brought his eyebrows together. "I am Castiel. That is Sam. This is Dean. I feel like this introduction is a bit redundant."
"He means where did you come from, what are you doing here, and why did you save us?" Percival spoke up.
"I will never understand humans," Castiel said. "Why one can never say what one means is beyond me."
"You say human as if you aren't one," Merlin pointed out. "Who – er, what," he amended, "are you, exactly?" He hoped his question didn't sound too rude.
Castiel straightened up from where he sat despite his apparent weakness and said, "I am Castiel, an angel of the Lord."
Everyone stared at him. No one spoke. Sam broke the silence.
"It's kind of hard to explain. We, ah, are hunters, sort of. We track and kill monsters, demons, and spirits, like your Dorocha friends over there."
Merlin glanced around to see that even more of the spirits had gathered. They surrounded the salt. He swallowed heavily, wondering if they might be able to break through the barrier with their great number. Was he willing to reveal his secret in order to protect his friends and companions – old and new – from the monsters? Merlin glanced at Arthur, his prince and friend, and instantly decided – yes. Of course.
"So tell me," Dean asked, "what exactly were you planning on doing to get rid of these creepy-ass things, anyway? It's not as if you have a Molotov or iron bullet arsenal or anything."
Merlin wondered what –if any – part of the true story Arthur would tell. To his complete surprise, Arthur told the whole story. To Merlin it seemed that Arthur was tired – the haunted, exhausted, and fearful look in his eyes told the warlock that his friend was even more shaken up by recent events than he had thought. They had fought some pretty dangerous creatures together, but the Dorocha were by far the worst. Arthur had either been humbled by the noble rescue or had realized and come to accept that he was way over his head here. Merlin decided it was the latter. Arthur may have become a better man, a better prince, and a better friend, but heaven forbid he actually grasp the full meaning of humility.
When he finished telling about the sacrifice Morgana had completed, Arthur said, "The only way to close the rift and destroy the Dorocha is another blood sacrifice."
"Well…" Dean began, but Arthur plowed on, despite the shocked protests of his knights.
"I will do whatever it takes to save my kingdom."
"You don't understand—" Arthur snapped.
Dean snorted. "I don't understand? That's a good one. You want to talk to me about self-sacrifice for those you love? Go ahead. It ain't nothin' I've not heard before. Nothin' I've not done before." His voice was dark and haunted and Merlin wondered what had happened to him, what he had given up.
Castiel broke in before Arthur could retort. "You can, of course, still offer yourself as a sacrifice if you wish, but there is another way. I can offer you an alternative to your death. I can seal the rift myself – once I regain my strength, that is."
Everyone stared. "How," Leon asked, "are you going to do that?"
"I am an angel of the Lord."
Arthur raised his eyebrows. "You were serious about that?"
"It's Cass," Dean supplied. "He's serious about everything. Even pie. How the heck can you look at a piece of cherry pie and not crack a smile, am I right?"
Sam rolled his eyes. It seemed that Dean tried to make this point on a regular basis.
"Will there be a price?" Merlin asked, needing to know if anything would have to be given in order for the rift to be sealed. "The balance of life restored?"
Castiel stared at him. "I am an angel of the Lord," he said, as if that made everything clear. Clear as mud.
"Ah," said Merlin. "Okay."
"Don't worry. Cass's got this," Dean reassured Merlin.
"So what do we do until he is well enough to heal the rift?" Lancelot wondered, nervously eyeing the ever-growing crowd of spirits surrounding them.
"Wait it out," Dean said. "It's not gonna be fun, but it's all we can do, since we've only got a couple ghost-busting weapons between us all. Don't worry, they'll disperse when the sun comes up. These freaks don't like the light."
And so they waited. It was tense, terrifying, and tough, but the spirits couldn't get past the salt, and just like Dean had predicted, when morning came, they disappeared with the appearance of the sun.
Finally day came and they were able to leave the circle of salt. A couple of hours and some much-needed rest later, Castiel said he would be able to heal the rift. He blinked out of existence for a few seconds before popping back with something akin to a smile but not quite on his face. "The rift has been sealed."
"Already?" Arthur gaped. "Really?"
"Yes," said Castiel. "It took a bit longer than anticipated. I apologize."
"No, I mean, how did you do it so fast? Was it really that simple?"
Castiel frowned. "I am an angel of the Lord, Arthur. I healed the rift. You are safe from the Dorocha, and history is being written back the way it should be."
"Er, thank you. I think."
"Well, 'angel of the Lord,'" Sam said, grinning, "you about ready to hit the road? Or did healing the rift take too much out of you?"
"We have done what we came here to do, Sam. I am prepared to travel through time once more, although I will have to rest tremendously when we return."
"Got it, Cass. You deserve it. Good work. You saved the world."
"Thank you," Arthur said earnestly, clapping Dean, Sam, then Castiel on the back, shaking their hands.
"Thank you again for saving me," Merlin said, inclining his head in acknowledgement of the men. "For saving us. I am in your debt."
"Don't sweat it," said Dean. "We ain't exactly from around here, so chances are unless someone else decides to douche with the timeline and rewrite history, we won't see you again. So we'll call it even. We saved your life, and you'll go on doing what you do best, dude."
Somehow Merlin knew he was talking about his magic.
"It was great meeting you all," Sam said, smiling widely. "I'll never read the stories in the same way again!"
"Stories?" Gwaine asked.
"Well… it's a long story," Sam admitted.
"We should go," Castiel interrupted. "We are endangering the fabric of time by remaining here longer than necessary."
"Right," said Dean. "Well, guys, it's been fun." He clapped his brother on the back. "C'mon Sammy, Cass. Let's rock."
Merlin cleared his throat. "That was… interesting," he finally said.
The knights murmured their agreement.
Arthur, for his part, was still grateful that they had shown up when they did. If Merlin had gotten touched by the Dorocha, if he had been attacked… Arthur couldn't bear to think about it. Because he had meant what he said to Merlin in what he thought were the last few minutes of their lives. Merlin was a brave man – just because he hadn't given up his life for Arthur's didn't mean he hadn't meant to – and that was as brave as it got.
"Well," he said, smiling brightly at this strange but fortunate turn of events. "I guess we're done here. Let's… go home."
Back in their scrappy little motel in upstate North Carolina, Dean and Sam recapped their adventures in medieval times. "I'm just ticked because I didn't get to meet a real wench," Dean pouted. "Or go to a real tavern."
"You met Merlin, saved Arthur, and talked to the knights of the freakin' round table, Dean, and you're thinking about women and bars?"
Dean nodded. "Yep. Apparently my interests don't change over the time/space continuum."
Sam rolled his eyes and turned to Cass, who had almost returned to his normal self after lots of rest from the time travel. "So you didn't exactly give us all the information on why we suddenly needed to jump back into the dark ages and save Merlin's life. Only that someone tried to rewrite history and we had to set it straight…?"
"Yes," said Castiel. "The sacrifice Morgana made by killing her sister was something that was never meant to happen. It was not written in destiny; something caused Morgana to go against what was supposed to happen. It could have been an influence from an outside source – like a demon – or it could have simply been the result of her trying to escape from destiny. Either way, if she had succeeded in her plan, everything would change."
"Well, Dean, if Merlin had been killed by the Dorocha, which could have very well happened despite his great power, then Arthur would have died, too. If Arthur had died, he would never be able to take Excalibur from the stone. Without Excalibur, there are no bullets for the Colt. Without the Colt—"
"Yeah, yeah, Cass, I get the drift," Dean said sarcastically.
Sam stared. "Wait. What do you mean, without Excalibur, there'd be no bullets for the Colt?"
"Didn't you know, Sam? The only weapon that can slay something that is already dead is a weapon forged in dragon's breath – like Excalibur. Long after Arthur's death, some hunters came across his tomb – and his sword. Eventually the sword fell into the hands of Samuel Colt, who melted the blade down and made bullets out of it."
Sam looked like he was about to faint. "You mean to tell me that we carried around Excalibur for two freaking years and didn't even know it?"
"That is correct."
"Wow. That is so… wow. Excalibur, Dean."
Dean shook his head. "Can you be any more of a geek, Sammy?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "Great, Cass, now you've got him in fan-girl mode again."
"Let him have his fun, Dean. Excalibur is a very important artifact in history and mythology. Your brother has a unique appreciation for this kind of knowledge."
"If by unique you mean ultra-geeky, then yeah," Dean said, but he grinned anyway. It'd been a while since he'd seen Sam smiling so widely, so if he wanted to freak out because he had been carrying bullets made out of a dead dude's sword, so be it.
If Sam was happy, Dean figured he was pretty darn happy, too.
Besides, why shouldn't they be celebrating? They'd saved the world as they knew it, the world as King Arthur and Merlin knew it, and re-re-written history.
Not bad for a Monday. Not bad at all.
A/N: *crosses fingers* Here's hoping you enjoyed! I certainly loved writing it! Please review and let me know your thoughts; if you like I'm sure there's be plenty more SN fanfics in the future! XD