Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with SPN or BtVS. Neither is my toy box and I'm merely playing.
A/N: Early S5, I've only seen up to epi 3. Written for the August Fic-A-Day challenge on lj.
Consequences of a Hunt Gone Wrong:
Short. Sturdy. Red Hair. Not going to hurt him. That’s all Dean knows as he lies still and in pain. Magic. There’s magic. It should make Dean want to run away, but he feels calm. There’s someone else there briefly, but Dean never sees them.
“Who are you?” he manages hours later, it should’ve been days later.
He gets a head tilt.
“I’m Dean, who are you?”
This earns him a raised eyebrow, “Yours only has two more letters.”
“Where’s your friend?”
“She went home,” Oz tells him, “Can’t be here for days. Can’t take you to a hospital.”
“Polgara,” Oz repeats as if that one word somehow explains everything.
“What’s a Polgara?” Dean tries.
“The demon you tried to take out on your own.”
“Hey, I had him.”
Oz raises an eyebrow.
“Well until he skewered me.”
“Where’d you come in?”
Oz shrugs, “Was tracking a Fyarl that meet up with it.”
“What’s a Fyarl, wait let me guess it’s another demon. You a hunter?”
“You used magic to heal me, so maybe not,” Dean continues as he tries to push himself up. Oz pushes him back down and shakes his head. Dean groans then complains, “Anyone tell you that you’re really chatty?”
This earns him a small smile.
Dean stares at the ceiling, little more than wooden boards slapped together and complains, “I’m beginning to think Cas talks more than you.”
“Do you need to contact him?”
Dean shakes his head, “I’m good, whatever you gave me seems to be working.”
“Okay, then whatever your friend gave me seems to be working.”
Oz smiles slightly at that, perches on the edge of the narrow bed in a way that doesn’t take room away from Dean. He pulls Dean’s phone out of his pocket and opens it up.
“You’re giving that back,” Dean glares.
“After I put my number in it,” Oz agrees, “You see another Polgara, let me know.”
“You going to take it out?”
“Know people who can,” Oz answers.
“Wanna come with me?” Dean asks impulsively, but he’s tired of being alone, tired of looking over and seeing an empty seat.
“We can kill stuff,” Dean tempts, “Really evil stuff and we might be able to advert the apocalypse.”
“The? There’s always an apocalypse.”
“Really?” Dean asks.
“I feel less bad about it then,” Dean concludes, “Are yours usually of biblical proportions?”
Oz frowns at him for a moment before he says, “Had the Mayor turn into a giant snake and try to eat the graduating class.”
“You could try and keep me out of trouble,” Dean tempts.
“It would still find you.”
Dean smiles. He’s cute and funny. Dean shakes his head then tries, “Please?”
Oz tilts his head again, “Tempting. Promise not to kill me?”
Dean frowns, worry spreads through him and he wants to suddenly jump off the bed and find a weapon, only if Oz was going to hurt or kill him he’d have done so already.
“Werewolf,” Oz tells him.
“Moon’s full,” Dean challenges.
Oz smiles and shrugs.
“There’s a way. That’s just…cruel.”
“Knew a werewolf, wish we’d been able to save her,” Dean manages.
Oz looks away and Dean’s not about to go into detail.
“Not everyone manages control,” Oz tells him, “It took me a long time.”
Dean nods, debates with himself then asks, “You still coming with?”
“Give yourself another hour to heal, then we’ll leave.”
Dean smirks. This might go down as the best hunt that went wrong.