Large PrintHandheldAudioRating
Twisting The Hellmouth Crossing Over Awards - Results
Rules for Challenges


StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking

Summary: Sam and Dean thought they knew the fight. That was until they received an unexpected visitor: a girl named Gail Olivia Sparks. Thrust into an ancient war they barely understand, they must rely on the most unreliable of allies, the former Horseman of War.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Supernatural > Non-BtVS/AtS StoriesAglarannaFR181040,734222,5547 Nov 0922 Jun 10No


Summary: Alone in the midst of the turbulence of Season 5, Dean receives an unexpected visitor. A girl named Gail Sparks shows up and tells them that she’s they’re new bodyguard, here to protect them from Lucifer and the forces of darkness. There’s just one problem, she’s got a split personality. One half is an innocent young girl, the other is a Blood Knight, a creature who lives only to fight, a being that has existed from the beginning of Creation and is the former Rider of War.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural and any of the characters it contains. The Horsemen of the Apocalypse are in the public domain and can be used by anyone, however these particular incarnations are mine, along with Gail Olivia Sparks, Mace, the Eternals, the Ancients, and most of the Hierarchy, along with any of my invented change-ups to the mythology. But the characters are Kripke’s and I thank him for creating the likes of Dean and Sam.

Chapter One: Strange Crazy Person

Beyond this place of wrath and tears looms
but the Horror of the Shade,
And yet the menace of the years finds and shall find,
me unafraid.
It matters not how straight the gate, how charged
with punishment the Scroll.
I am the Master of my Fate; I am the Captain of my Soul.

-W.E Henley, "Invictus"

Pine Creek, Delaware

The midnight moon stood at its apex in the star filled ink dark sky. Gray clouds hung at the bottom of the horizon as the overhead white spots watched the bustling bodies moving in and out through the electronic doors of St. Jude’s Hospital. Silver light shone down across the parking lot as cars pulled up and went, carrying the wounded, the sick, and the injured inside for treatment. The moon’s rays were harsh as it gazed down on the scene, aware that only a day before an event had occurred that would shake the very foundations of reality.

A prophecy. One that had been promised since the very moment Eve had taken a bite of the apple and humankind had been cast out of the Garden, into a world filled with sin. One that had been warned the day the Morning Star, the most beautiful angel had tried to set his throne above the Lord’s and led the Heavenly Host into a grand and glorious civil war. Brother against brother, angel against angel, Lucifer against Michael. On the day that Lucifer was cast down with a third of Heaven’s most glorious into the Pit, to suffer their disobedience for eternity, the prophecy had been sealed in their blood and signed by their hunger for revenge, their hatred for humanity. Their prison sealed with the number 66 and engraved the soul of the first woman created by the Lord, the first betrayer. Lillith.

The prophecy had waited a millennia. The Fallen waiting in the depths of their prison, gathering their forces, the humans drown downward by temptation and sin, torturing them, destroying them, turning them into soldiers. As time went by, their army grew stronger and what had once been a small force of 100,000 grew to millions. But they waited for the prophecy, knowing it was only that which would free them. Sitting still, almost forgotten, they waited for a child with the blood of man and the damned to destroy the first seal at the end of the others and unleash hell on earth. At least, that was the story the Hierarchy told and that the humans repeated unknowing in their small stream of space and time. That was the story to be believed.

But the moon knew, as it watched it’s rays descend and glance off the slick wet asphalt, it knew that was not the whole truth. For mortal minds could never truly grasp the complexities of the universe, nor the war that had raged for centuries between the forces of Heaven and Hell in different countries, upon different continents, and different worlds. The moon did not understand, but it knew, and watched with indifference as it’s light caught the figures of two young men arguing on the in front of the Hospital entry. Knowing that they too would soon be inducted into the secrets of the Hierarchy, for it sensed what the universe had always known. It quivered before the knowledge of things to come and the eternal faces about to be let loose upon the surface of the Earth.

Below and unaware of the moon’s contemplations, Dean Winchester wasn’t having the best day. His friend, mentor, and father figure Bobby Singer had just been shot by demons intent on finding the Sword of Michael. If that wasn’t hard enough, Bobby had been told that he might never walk again. While Dean didn’t give a rats ass about the opinions of doctors, he couldn’t stop the dripping guilt that told him this was once again his fault. He should have recognized that Bobby had been possessed, that he wasn’t behaving like himself, Dean knew he should have known. But he wasn’t some kind of super human. He didn’t have any kind of special powers.

But this was only the latest bit of bad news. The day had started with Lucifer busting free from his prison after Sammy had killed the demon Lillith and broke the final seal. Something Dean was finding hard to forgive, very hard. That had been followed by a visit to Chuck Shurley, who’d informed them both that Castiel had exploded. The angels and Zachariah had shown up again, but a trick that Cas had taught Dean, resulted in him being able to send them away. Then they’d been visited by a crazy fangirl, who’d spent far too much of her time creepily stroking Sam’s pectorals while delivering a message about the damn sword of Michael. Bobby had been possessed and shot. Sam and Dean went to their father’s old storage locker to find the sword, only to discover that the angels and demons had beaten them to it. And Zachariah tells me that I’m the fucking Sword of Michael. He’d given Dean stomach cancer, broken Sam’s legs, and evaporated Sam’s lungs in an attempt to force Dean to agree to becoming some kind of angel condom. It had been a test of strength, but Dean had refused. Before matters could get out of hand, the dead Castiel had turned up and killed two of the angels, scaring Zachariah off. He’d then healed both Sam and Dean and carved a magical protection onto their ribs to prevent the angels from finding them again. Oh, yeah, and Meg is back. Now, he and Sam were having a face off outside of St. Jude’s Hospital, out of Bobby’s earshot. It was the end to a very, very bad day and Dean was discovering that he just couldn’t keep it in anymore. The betrayal, the apocalypse, how fucked up things are. Not to mention the question of who or what had saved them from Lucifer’s ascension.

Yeah, something fuckin’s saves us, only to stick me on a plane! A fuckin’ plane! Being magically transported from one terror into another had been the perfect start of the day. The only bright spot was killing that bitch Ruby. And Dean was more than willing to trade the moment back for the whole disaster never happening in the first place.

“You know I was thinking Dean, maybe we could go after the Colt.”

Sam was talking. Dean wasn’t really in the mood to listen to Sam talking. But his brother’s voice grated in his ears, a reminder of what Dean hadn’t been able to stop. Of what Sam did.

“Why?” Dean asked. “What difference would that make?”

The flashing red and white lights of a passing ambulance glanced off his rugged features, their wild blinking reflected in his green eyes. His shoulders were slouched beneath the stress weighing on his mind and he stepped down off the sidewalk, not wanting to lift his eyes and search for his baby, the 1967 night black Chevy Impala. He wasn’t a tall man, barely reaching six feet in height and was dwarfed next to Sammy’s six foot four inches. He found himself wanting to stuff his hands into his pockets, but instead let them hang uselessly at his sides, buffeted by the cool breeze. He kept walking and Sam’s steps were in time with his own.

“Well,” Sam said. “We could use it on Lucifer. I mean back there you said—“

Dean shut his eyes, his head rolling back in frustration. “I said a bunch of crap for Bobby’s benefit.” He came to a stop in the center of the parking lot. Dean didn’t want to do this anymore. He watched with an irritated sigh as his brother circled around in front of him. Was there anything he could do to get rid of Sam? “I mean,” he chuckled, glancing towards the thick cluster of trees standing in the mist at the far end of the lot. His eyes caught the darkness for a moment and held it, a shiver ran up his spine and he swallowed. It still felt like they were being watched. Dean turned back to face his brother. “I’ll fight.” He said. “I’ll fight to the last man, but let’s at least be honest. I mean, let’s at least be honest. We don’t stand a snowball’s chance and you know that.” Dean watched, his irritation growing as Sam looked away and sighed. Yeah, be like that Sammy. I don’t give a rat’s ass anymore. “I mean you of all people should know that.”

Unable to keep the venom from his voice and unwilling to look at his brother any longer, he brushed past Sam’s shoulder and started walking away. I’ve had it up to here with this. With all of this. All he could see in his mind was his brother’s face after he’d thrown Dean through a wall. All he could remember was Sam leaving him on that floor. That Sammy had trusted Ruby instead of his own flesh in blood. That he’d allowed himself to be seduced by that whore! That he hadn’t listened. That Sam had begun the end of the world. All because of stupid pride! Dean was convinced that was all it was. Pride! Hubris! Sam had always wanted to be normal. Well, he’ll never be that. Sam had always wanted to be special. He wanted my job and look where it got him. His brother had wanted to be a hero and instead become an unwitting villain. How could he be such an idiot?

“Dean!” Dean turned back to face his brother, listening as Sam let out a long, heavy sigh. “Is there something you want to say to me?”

Dean lifted his head and stared straight into Sam’s soulful brown eyes. Let’s be honest here. There was a momentary pause and then he looked to the side and down, sucking in a heady breath, shaking his head. Finally, he looked up at Sam.

“I tried, Sammy.” He said. Shaking his head, Dean could barely believe the words that were coming out his own mouth. Still, he couldn’t stop them. It was as if a damn had burst in his chest and all his feelings were just pouring out. He was too tired to hold it in anymore. “Man, I really tried. But I just can’t keep pretending that everything’s all right.” Dean stared at Sam. “Because it’s not. And it’s never going to be. You chose a demon over your own brother and look what happened!”

“I would give anything. Anything!” Sam said. “To take it all back.”

“I know you would, and I know how sorry you are, I do.” Dean continued. The weight on his shoulders was crushing him and tears were burning at the corners of his eyes. But crying was what the old Dean did, the Dean who’d been broken by hell, the Dean who hadn’t been strong enough to stop Sammy when everything was on the line. And he knew that he couldn’t be that Dean anymore. Now the planet was truly at stake, human life, the world as he knew it, everything. He had to be stronger. He wouldn’t show his brother how much this was killing him. Dean looked up at Sam, his gaze heated with the sting of betrayal. “You were the one I depended on the most!” He growled. His voice was hoarse in his throat, his esophagus tightening, his hands balled into fists at his side. “And you let me down in ways that I can’t even…” Dean took a deep breath, shaking his head as he stared at Sammy. There was another long pause as he swallowed, looking away, and then finally back at his brother’s face. “I’m just, I’m having a hard time forgivin’ and forgettin’ here. You know?”

“What can I do?” Sam asked.

Dean snorted and looked down. Nothing. The truth rang through his mind before he could stop it. His heart winced. Dean shook his head and looked up. “Honestly?” He asked. Then his mouth pressed into a thin line as his forehead creased. The word came out in a thick whisper, almost as if he was afraid of saying the word. It was a sentiment he could never take back. It hurt him to say it, even more than it hurt Sam to hear it. “Nothing.” He watched his brother shift and look down, his shoulders beginning to shake. Dean looked away, over at the ambulance unloading its wounded. “It’s just…” He trailed off. “I don’t think we can ever be what we were.” He shrugged, his lips pursed and pressed together. It hurt to say the words. “You know?” Slowly, he watched his brother nod in agreement. “I just don’t think I can trust you.”

Sam looked up in surprise, but Dean had already moved away. He turned, his back to his brother and began the long slow stumble towards the Impala. Dean needed to get out of here. To find a bar, get drunk, get laid, at least some of, if not all of the above. He had to get away from Sam. He couldn’t look at him anymore, didn’t want to think about him, or the entire mess. Didn’t want to remember that the angels wanted him to play host to their grand general or that they were willing to do anything and everything to achieve that goal. To force him to accept it. Thank god, they can’t find me right now. The world was collapsing on top of him and Dean Winchester could see no way to escape.

“Wow.” A cheery feminine voice made Dean’s eyes shoot up off the pavement and saw a tiny young woman seated on the hood of the Impala. Her white and blue sneakers hanging down over the rubber wheel, skinny jeans hugging her waist and thighs tightly, a long sleeved shirt loose over her teeny upper body, her brunette hair was pulled back into a bumpy ponytail, and she was watching him with wide hazel eyes. “That’s gotta be the most touching break up I’ve ever seen.”

“Who?” Dean began. He was aware that Sam was behind him, but he didn’t know whether or not his brother was looking. What the hell? Hadn’t he dealt with enough crazy for one day?

“Short of the movies I mean.” She continued, her head tilting to the side. “You’re pretty good looking, but you’re no Gerard Butler or Leonardo DiCaprio.” The girl paused. “Wait.”

Dean decided she had to be in her teens or not long out of them, his hand moved towards his pocket, searching for a weapon. I’m not taking any chances.

“Do people even still remember the Titanic?” Her small, rosebud mouth pursed thoughtfully as her eyes swept across him studiously and she blew a long dull strand off her nose. “Don’t know why I’m bringing it up, I hate that movie.” She sighed loudly, her shoulders drooping. “I guess it doesn’t matter anyway. Life isn’t a movie, or a comic book, or a novel.” She fixed him with another long stare. “And that was definitely the most heartbreaking thing I’ve seen since getting into Delaware.” Her head tilted further, like a canary seeing a seed for the first time and deciding whether or not it was worth pecking. “What did your partner do?”

“Partner?” Dean blinked. Wait? What the hell? Was she asking if he was gay? Is she one of Chuck’s crazy slash fans? Like that girl they’d met earlier today? The one who’d been salivating all over Sammy. “Wait. No. He isn’t…” Dean shook his head, at the moment his sexuality wasn’t important. What this bitch is doing here is.

The girl ran right over his sentence like a freight train against a dump truck. “I mean,” she said. “It’s okay if you are, I’m not like, a homophobe or anything.” She tapped her cheek. “Though, I’ll admit, I do have issues with watching men kiss. Totally weirds me out! I mean, I don’t mean for it too.” She continued. “It just does.”

She shrugged and then her mouth clicked shut. She stared past Dean, her eyes suddenly wide and glassy. It was like she was looking at something behind him and Dean nearly spun to see what had shut her up. Praise the fucktards. Or whomever. “What?” He asked. “What the hell is wrong with you?” For that matter, who the fuck was she and why was she sitting on the Impala? And where was Sam? Dean knew they’d just had some sort of intense “break up”, but his brother was still close enough to come to his aid.

She blinked. “I’m sorry.” The girl’s head swung back to look at him and her expression was genuinely apologetic. “I kinda got carried away.”

“Kinda?” Dean began. It was hard enough keeping his raw nerves in check, but now he was going to have to figure out whether or not she was just some random crazy. “Who are you? And why the hell are you on my car?”

“Oh.” She nearly jumped. Patting the hood, she stared at him suspiciously. “This is your car?”

“Yeah and it’s time you got your messy ass off it.” I’m not in the mood for this. He just wanted to get drunk.

“So you’re Dane Winchester?” She tilted her head to the side. “Am I getting that right? Dane? Which is a weird name, Dane.” Her tongue flicked out between her lips and wiggled from side to side. Her eyes crossed as she stared down at it. “It sorta rolls off the tongue. Dane.” Her tongue disappeared back into her mouth. “Dane.” She repeated. “Dane, Dane-o, Dane-er-rooney.” A smile lit her features. “That’s funny.”

“Are you seriously retarded?” Dean asked. He didn’t know what to do. She’s gotta be crazy. Maybe she really was one of Chuck’s crazy fans and if she was then it’d be easy to dissuade her. But what if she’s got a message for us? The last one had been a bust, a bit of evidence planted by the angels meant to make Dean and Sam walk into their trap. “My name is Dean Winchester.” He pointed at himself. “Dean. Now get off my car before I shoot you.”

The girl blinked again, looked down, and muttered. “Fat lot of good that’ll do.”

“Get off the car!” She was going to ruin the paint job.

“Dean?” She asked. “Huh?” The girl was clearly ignoring him. She pursed her lips and tapped her heel against the silver hubcap, crossing her arms over her chest. It was a classic pose belonging in the category of Irritated Female. “I could have sworn they said Dane.”

“They?” The word sidetracked him from searching for a rock to throw at her. An instinct niggling at his gut told him not to lay hands on her. He wasn’t sure why. She looked normal enough to him. Normal enough to be crazy. There was only one “they” that concerned him right now. Angels. Was this girl the host of an angel? No, she wasn’t behaving in that irritatingly smugly stoic fashion. She didn’t exude an air that said she knew better than him. What would they want with a young girl anyway?

“Yeah.” She said. She stared at him for a long moment and blinked again, confusion making her mouth pop open. “Didn’t they tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Dean said. He heaved a great sigh, thinking of Sam and the tequila filled shot glass waiting for him at some local pub. Crazy as this kid was, he had to get rid of her. “Look, this is the worst time.”

“It’s never a bad time for orders.” She said. Her peppy voice piercing the air as her legs swung over the edge of the Impala’s ebony hood, her heels clicking together. “Or…” she paused, her mouth pursing again as her brow contorted. “Is it always a bad time for orders.” She clapped her hands together. “Doesn’t matter, I’m letting my brain run away on me again.” She lifted up a finger, one leg crossing over the other. “What’s important is why I’m here and, since they didn’t tell you,” she cast a suspiciously irritated glance up towards the sky. “I’ll say it.” She clapped a hand on her chest and offered him a slight bow. “Dane Winchester.”

“Dean.” He cut in, unsure of why he was even talking. But maybe she’ll finally give me some fuckin’ answers.

“Right, Dean.” She blinked. “I’ll remember that. Dean. Dean, Dean-o, Dean-er-reeno!” She laughed, clapping her hands together like a child. “Hey look at that, it works for both!”

Okay, she’s retarded. Dean didn’t like dealing with crazy. Sam was much better at calmly telling a person to shove off. Like he did with his fan. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, yeah.” She grinned and covered her mouth sheepishly. “About that.”

The girl leapt off the Impala’s hood and landed lightly on the asphalt a few feet from him. Okay, so she’s insane and spry. That wasn’t usually a good combination.

She pointed at him. “You are the Sword of Michael.” She said. “And I,” she clapped her hand on her chest again. “Am Gail Olivia Sparks.” She pursed her lips. “Much to my great irritation and probably yours, the Hierarchy has sent me to be your bodyguard.”

A/N: For the record I've never had a beta and never found one who can keep up with my weird habits. So if there are mistakes here, I'm sorry. While Gail is not my first OC by a very, very long shot, she happens to be one near and dear to my heart, so please be kind to her. It's pretty much taken me a long time to decide if I want to post this story anywhere but my motherboard Paradise Lost. I know it hasn't got Buffy and most SPN OC's suck, but I've worked very hard on this one and she's actually fairly complex. But if I fail, I fail.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed.

If you like it tell me, if you don't also feel free to tell me.

Reviews make my muse happy and makes her write more. Leave some please!
Next Chapter
StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking