Incomplete Buffy/Supernatural/Marvel Comics cross
This is the product of a dream fragment I woke up only half-remembering one morning. What might have happened to lead up to this point, I have no idea.
If it inspires anyone, feel free to run with it. Just let me know about it, so I can follow the story, okay?
"Goddamn sonuvabitch," Dean muttered to himself as he aimed his AR-15 at yet another of the yellow-eyed bastards thronging the parking lot outside the bar.
He squeezed the trigger to let off another three-round grouping and swore in frustration as none of the bullets seem to do the slightest bit of damage to any of the dozen attackers waiting outside, aside from annoying them.
Granted, the wards on the doors and windows were keeping the bastards from coming in, but nothing anyone trapped inside the Roadhouse was doing looked to be having any effect on the demons waiting outside.
Trust those bloodthirsty bastards to somehow know to show up during one of the few times none of the hunters here had any blessed ammunition left with them. Of course, having used up pretty much everything they had left to fight off that attack at the prayer meeting last night, he couldn’t say that it hadn’t been used in a good cause.
And now, it seemed like it was just a matter of time before the demons got tired of waiting and one of them tried their hand at arson. The Roadhouse was admittedly well-built, but there was no ignoring that it was a wooden building and wood burned quite easily, along with anything that might be inside it when it ignited.
Headshots seemed to be the only thing that really bothered the demons besieging them, and event the dumbest of the surviving demons still gathered outside knew to keep their heads down and out of the line of fire.
He and Bobby were trying to figure out what they could do next, while Sam was making the demons keep their heads down with the occasional shot when they heard the sound of two Harleys pulling into the lot.
"Oh shit!" he swore to himself as he and Bobby rushed to the windows to join Sam and Jo in an attempt to warn the newest arrivals away before they became munchies for the demons camped outside.
"Hey, guys!! Watch out for the –" Dean's warning trailed away as he watched in stunned disbelief as the two bikers who'd just pulled up in the parking lot started wading through the demons clustering around them like a thresher going through a wheat field.
The nearest biker, who had to be well over seven feet tall, built like a freakin' Mack truck and most definitely the biggest guy Dean had ever seen, was simply picking up a demon in each massive hand and smacking their heads together before tossing them aside like candy wrappers. And considering the bloody ruins the demons' heads were left in afterwards, it certainly looked like the quickest, easiest and most convenient way for him to handle things.
The black leather-clad second biker, though – who was currently facing away from him and who was at least six and a half feet tall himself – seemed to be practically dancing around and through the group of demons trying to get to him, making them look like they were wax statues positioned around the hunter as a photo opportunity-type thing. And while his companion was treating the demons attacking him like a Rottweiler playing with a chew toy, the rune-engraved silver sword in the second hunter's hand was carving through his opponents like a cheese slicer through a block of Roquefort.
Accordingly, as a result of the pair's efforts, the parking lot had, in less than a minute and a half, been transformed from a death trap for humans into a demon abattoir, with body parts and entrails scattered across the asphalt like a five-year-old's toys in their playroom.
As Dean and Sam, followed closely by Bobby, Ellen and Jo and the other hunters who'd been trapped inside the Roadhouse with them, headed outside, Dean got the shock of his life.
The hunter with the sword, having now finished wiping it clean, returned it to a scabbard attached to their bike and then pulled off their helmet, unleashing a fall of long, blonde hair and making the elder Winchester brother realize that the hunter who he'd just watched eradicate a half-dozen demons in less than two minutes with almost insulting ease was actually a woman!
And not just any woman, either! In addition to being at least six and a half feet tall, the blonde was built like the proverbial brick edifice, with a face that could easily grace the cover of any glamour magazine and a smile any angel would kill to possess, he thought to himself.
"Holy freakin' god! You're a woman."
A half-cough/half-smothered laugh and a not very discreet elbow to the ribs from Sam made Dean realize that not only had he said those words aloud, but that he was also staring at the blonde like some drooling farmboy from Kansas and he felt himself flush with near-terminal embarrassment at the same time he threw his little brother an irritated glare.
The blonde, however, merely smiled at him, clearly used to that type of reaction, as she stuck out her gloved hand and introduced herself.
"Hi, there. I'm Buffy Summers, and this is my boyfriend, Jack," she grinned as she indicated the dark-haired and bearded man looming like a freakin' mountain beside her and eying the crowd gathered around them with an air of mild unconcern.
"Actually, my name is Hans Grubervelt," the mountain rumbled his own introduction as he nodded a semi-indifferent acknowledgement of the others' existence.
"But the Midget, here, insists on calling me Jack for some reason only she and the gods understand," he added, throwing the blonde a scowl that would have worried Dean a great deal if it had been directed in his direction, and which she ignored completely.
"Holy shit!" Sam heard someone in the back of the crowd exclaim in surprise. "That's the friggin' Executioner standing there!"