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Living for Giving the Devil His Due.

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Summary: Dean awakes to find himself in Hell. Or maybe not. Sam and Dawn search for answers when Sam Beckett leaps into Dean. Will Dr. Beckett save Dean or will they both be damned?

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Supernatural > Dawn-Centered
Television > Quantum Leap
(Past Donor)StrangevisitorFR131321,3211308,93225 Jun 0725 Jul 07Yes

Welcome to the Hotel California

This is my major SPN/BtVS/(third fandom revealed in chapter two) multi-chapter fiction.
I have written 10 chapters(15,000 words) and am finishing up the last of it now. So there shouldn't be too long between chapter postings
Thanks to Rinkle for the beta of chapter one. Thanks to my son who has played editor for this entire epic. HI!:)(from son)

So here it is the first chapter.

Title: Living for Giving the Devil His Due. Chapter 1/?
Author: Strangevisitor7
Characters: Dean Winchester (for now)
Fandom: Supernatural, eventually (chapter 2) BtVS and Surprise Crossover
Rated: Gen
Disclaimer: All things SPN belong to Eric Kripke, et al. All things Buffy belong to Joss Whedon. The third fandom will be identified. Don’t own it either.
Summary: Dean awakes to find himself in Hell. Or maybe not.

Chapter 1: Welcome to the Hotel California

Dean lay perfectly still, eyes closed, trying to process what had happened. Last thing he remembered, he was standing next to Sam watching the sky darken over the Grand Canyon. It had seemed the perfect place to spend his last day among the living. Sam had never stopped looking for a way out and Dean loved the gigantic dork for that but he’d never regretted the deal. Dean just hoped that someday Sam would forgive him.

Funny, he had no memory of the hellhound, no feeling of pain from the attack, no last image of Sam being stupid and trying to save him. Nothing. Just one moment there and the next moment here. Well, he’d better get used to here, because if he was no longer in Arizona, then ‘here’ must be must be Hell.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes to stare up at a smooth white ceiling. He cautiously sat up and swung his feet off the small army cot he’d been lying on.

First, an inventory of himself. Ten fingers, ten toes, no shoes and he was wearing what appeared to be white scrubs. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all very familiar.

Next, an inventory of the room. At first glance, it looked like a standard prison cell. Bed, desk, facilities, but no bars, just endless, smooth, white walls with no visible exit.

He walked around the room, dragging his hand along the wall, and then sat down at the desk. He started drumming on the desk top to help him think. Nothing. Bored, he pushed himself away from the desk and started prowling the space again, examining the walls for some indication of a door.

Looking around at the clean, white room, something felt off. Nothing was making sense to Dean. Really, shouldn’t Hell be, well, just a little more hellish. Where was the fire and the brimstone; heck, it wasn’t even hot. This looked more like a waiting room or a hospital room, but with no way out. So, maybe a prison cell. Because unless everything his Dad had told him was wrong, he couldn’t be in hell. Which begged the question, where was he?

The sound of a sliding door broke into his stream of consciousness. Whirling around, he saw a tray of food being pushed through an opening in the wall and come to rest on the desk top. Dean raced over to try and catch the small door before it closed but only succeeded in jamming his fingers against the wall.

“Son of a Bitch!” They were the first words he’d spoken aloud since arriving and he was startled at the sound of his own voice echoing against the silence of the room.

This place was starting to creep him out. It reminded him of that Twilight Zone episode. The one where aliens gave mankind a cookbook and everyone was kept in little rooms until they became the main course. Then, he started laughing; man he was losing it, if he thought he’d been abducted by aliens.

Dean examined the contents of the tray. The food looked like that sushi crap that Sam always ordered when they were out on the west coast. He grabbed one of the more edible looking items, plopped it in his mouth and spit it out in almost the same breath.

“Jesus, Sam, and you think my eating habits are weird.” Of course, there was no answer and the absence of Sam slammed into Dean, hard. He swallowed and ran his hand over his face trying to dislodge the loneliness of that feeling.

Refocusing, Dean walked to the middle of the room and spoke to the ceiling. “Any chance a guy could get some real food; like maybe a cheeseburger, fries and a chocolate shake? Extra onions on that burger, too. Oh and hello, I wouldn’t say no to some pie. Whatever you got is fine, but I prefer cherry.”

No answer, not that he’d really expected one. Dean threw himself down onto the cot and took a new inventory as he stared up at the ceiling. So, no one to talk to, no entertainment of any kind and no food worth eating. He changed his mind, this was Dean Winchester’s version of Hell.

He must have drifted off, because the next thing he heard was the sound of the food door closing. He walked over to the desk expecting the tray to be gone, only to see a new one in its place. Everything he’d asked for was there, including the cherry pie. Suddenly, he realized he was starving.

Dean grabbed the cheeseburger and gestured to the ceiling. “Ah, thanks,” he said, and began to eat his fill. Maybe on a full stomach he’d be able to figure out where he was, but judging by the quality of this burger, he was back on the ‘definitely not hell’ side of the fence.

On the other side of the wall, two men observed Dean Winchester eating his dinner.

“Wow.” The smaller man was enthralled by what he was seeing.

“I know.” The second, older man smiled. “It’s like watching a lion devour a zebra.”

A light beeped on the communication console in front of them. The older man reached to press the button. “Go ahead, Janet.”

“Sir, all the information you needed has been loaded into the hand link.”

“Thank you.” Releasing the button, he turned back to the shorter man. “Keep an eye on him and give him anything he asks for, within reason, but no direct contact.”

“Sir, I know the drill.”

“Right, of course you do. It’s time for me to check on Sam.”

A/N: Story Title: “Burnin’ for You” by Blue Oyster Cult
Chapter Title: “Hotel California” by The Eagles
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