Different Worlds (3)
Summary: You’re the youngest Winchester, a girl who needs to show her big brothers that she doesn’t need help. Then one day, on a totally normal vampire hunt that you had all under control, three meddling Avengers come barging in.
Warnings: language, violence, canon divergence, slow burn, me making stuff up
Word Count: 2011
A/N: This is basically how I’m going to update this series: like two a day and then a multiple month hiatus.
Chapter 3: Trouble On the Horizon
You sat in the booth, squished up to the wall because of a large, dark-haired supersoldier next to you. Across from you, the Falcon was happily eating his burger with Captain America next to him. You quickly sent a message to Sam and Dean telling them that you were fine and that you would meet them back at the bunker.
“Sooo…” you prompted the superheroes before you took a bite of your burger.
“What happened back there?” the man next to you asked and turned his steel-blue eyes on to you.
You took your time before answering, chewing your food, swallowing, and then taking a sip of your drink. “That was Mr. Robert Walker.”
“Why’d he do those disappearing tricks?” the Falcon asked.
“‘Cause he’s dead.” The men raised their eyebrows simultaneously. “Robert Walker and his wife, Petra, died in like 1970 or something.”
“So he was a ghost?” Captain America clarified.
“Yep.” You popped the ‘p.’ “They, or their ghosts, were responsible for a couple of recent deaths ‘round here.”
“Spirits do things for different reasons.” You shrug. The three men were actually listening intently. “Some want revenge or just keep killing the way they killed people when they were alive.”
“You’ve done this before?”
“‘Course!” you snort. “‘S my job.”
“You’re a ghost hunter?”
“Sure.” You took a long sip of your drink.
“Why did you kill everyone at the bar? Pretty fucking sure they weren’t ghosts,” the Winter Soldier spat at you. His friends raised their eyebrows slightly in surprise at his tone.
“Yeah… that was a colony of vamps.”
“Vampires?” the Falcon asked with a smile and wide eyes.
“Yes, vampires!” You mimic his expression before dropping it quickly and resuming your so-called ‘resting bitch face.’ It was important to look intimidating in this line of work.
“Why did you have to cut off their heads?” Captain America sat back and crossed his arms.
“How else was I supposed to kill ‘em?”
“Did you have to kill them?”
Uhg. This is why. This is why the hunters stayed away from goodie two shoes, ass-kissing heroes. They always wanted to find a way to save people. Even if they were too far gone. Even if they were so blatantly monsters.
“Yes, I had to kill them. It’s. My. Job.”
“So there are ghosts and vampires,” the Falcon said to change the topic, “what else?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Your friendly mood had disappeared. Your back ached from where Mr. Walker threw you against the wall and you were tired. “I’m done here.”
“How’s your arm?” the blue-eyed man next to you asked, stopping your ‘escape attempt’ of climbing over the back of the seat.
“Last time, with the vampires, you injured your arm.”
Well, you didn’t expect this. Especially from the Winter Soldier. You could tell he wasn’t satisfied with your answers, or lack of them, but at the same time, he was actually asking about your injury.
“‘S all healed.” You pulled down your shirt from the collar to show them. Cas had been useful and fixed you up. No ugly puncture wounds today.
“How?” You looked at the man for more explanation. “How did you heal so fast. It was only a week ago.”
“Mag-my friend is really good at patching people up.” There was a beat of silence. “Can I go home now?”
“We’ll take you home.”
“Thank you, Mister America.”
“Call me Steve.” You narrowed your eyes at the patriotic man. “My name is Steve Rogers. We know all about you, might as well tell you about us.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” you mumbled as the Falcon introduced himself as Sam. “My brother’s name is Sam.” They probably already knew that.
“I’m James Barnes,” the Winter Soldier less enthusiastically than his teammates who gave him a sharp look. “But my friends call me Bucky.”
You snorted. “Bucky? What kinda name’s ‘Bucky?’”
“It’s from his middle name, Buchanan,” Steve explained while Bucky glared at you.
“Well then, Bucky. You were going to take me home?”
You had the superheroes drop you off in St. Louis, Missouri. You had a motorcycle in a storage cell in the city. Your brothers didn’t need you bringing some superheroes to the front door. Who knew if they were going to continue to show up?
You loitered around the city for a while after they left, just in case they were still watching you. You’ve never gotten the opportunity to explore St. Louis before due to, you know, being wanted by the FBI. Today, you still kept your head low.
About an hour after the superheroes left you, you made your way to the storage compound with a Starbucks drink in your hand. You smiled when your black, retro motorcycle caught your eye. It had been a while since you last rode. You dusted off your helmet, because it would be a sad ending for a hunter to go out because of a simple road accident, before swinging your leg over the vehicle. Time to go home.
Bucky sat in the quinjet, this time with the rest of the team. A Hydra base they had just recently raided had shown signs of activity. Somehow, he couldn’t get his mind to focus on the current mission. Didn’t he not want to go on that little case a week ago? Now he couldn’t get (Y/N) off his mind.
No, she wasn’t stuck in his head because he thought she was pretty. Or very capable of taking care of herself. Even though she did look very nice with her shotgun. No. (Y/N) was only occupying his mind because there was a mystery surrounding her and Bucky had to get to the bottom of it.
Obviously by talking to (Y/N) more. That wasn’t a bad thing. Good thing Sam couldn’t read his thoughts.
Bucky peeked at Wanda sitting a few seats away. She had her earphones in, no doubt to block out everyone’s thoughts. She mentioned before that everyone was loud before missions but music helped.
He still had the niggling worry that (Y/N) and her brothers had something to do with Hydra. Or Hydra had something to do with them. Did Hydra know about ghosts and vampires? Bucky knew how many experiments they performed on people. He’s pretty sure that they tried to make vampires once. That didn’t end well with anyone.
The rough landing of the quinjet and Clint’s incessant apologies from the cockpit pulled Bucky out of his thoughts. They left the plane in sets of three: him, Steve, and Sam (of fucking course); Natasha, Clint, and Wanda; Tony, Rhodey, and Vision.
Tony’s team tackled the outside forces as Nat’s team took the north entrance. Bucky’s team made it into the south entrance with ease. They faced very little opposition as they made their way down the halls of the facility. Bucky hoped and assumed that it was because Hydra didn’t have the manpower.
“Guys, look at this,” Sam called down the hallway from a random room.
Steve and Bucky followed Sam into the room. It was dimly lit and empty save for a couple of cans of red paint in the corner and a large book on a stand in the middle of the floor. Sam had opened the book and was flipping through the yellowed pages.
“What’s this?” Bucky walked up to him and the book while Steve kept an eye out on the hallway.
“I dunno. Can’t read it.” When Sam flipped through, Bucky noticed strange symbols decorating the pages. “Woah,” Sam exclaimed when he landed on a certain page. “Didn’t know Hydra did this kinda stuff.”
The page displayed a large red pentagram along with instructions in what Bucky assumed was Latin. Even though he couldn’t read the words, the star spoke enough. A chill went down his spine and his mind instantly went to (Y/N). Was this part of her world?
“Let’s take it,” Bucky suggested. “Don’t want to leave it with them.”
“What’s all this?” Nat interrupted.
“What are you doing here?” Sam spun around quickly.
“The building’s clear. I was doing our job while you were having a book club.”
“Apparently Hydra’s into some weird shit.” Bucky motioned to the pentagram on display.
“Fuck,” Natasha mumbled as her eyes searched the pages. “Looks like Hydra was planning some Satanic ritual.” Her words echoed through the comms.
“You can read Latin?” Sam asked.
“Let’s just get out of here,” Bucky grumbled, grabbed the large book, and marched out of the room.
“We have a problem,” Cas announced, suddenly appearing and startling everyone in the previously quiet room.
“Hello to you too, Cas,” Dean smirked.
“Hi, Cas!” Jack beamed at one of his many father figures.
“What is it?” Sam rationally asked. You closed the book you weren’t really reading and took your feet off the table to sit up and look more attentive.
“Lucifer is trying to take heaven.”
“Again?” You fiddled with your new ring.
You had found it on the ground in one of the storage rooms in the bunker. Jack didn’t find anything malevolent on it, but he said that it could store energy and magic. At your request, he had filled it with healing magic. You really didn’t want to die. Again.
“Yes, again,” Cas answered. You paused for a second before remembering your question before losing your train of thought.
“This isn’t really a problem anymore,” Dean pointed out. “Just a monthly chore.”
“Weekly, actually,” Cas corrected. “He would try to break out every Saturday, but he had ceased his attempts for the last five weeks.”
Lucifer was being held in Heaven, or you supposed he used to be held there considering he was now trying to gain control. The angels decided to lock him in Heaven because it was easier than trying to shove him back into the cage. It also kept him away from his demonic minions.
“He broke out and now is gathering forces to take Heaven?” Dean guessed.
“Sounds like my father,” said Jack under his breath and you gave him a small, sympathetic rub on the back.
“Yes,” continued Cas. “He’s already recruited some witches to find a book of spells. He’s looking for the Magicae Libro.”
“The… Magic Book?” you laughed. “Creative.”
“They didn’t need to be creative when it was the only one.”
“Right, sorry. So what is the Magicae Libro, other than a magic book?”
“It was the first spellbook. Written by some of the first witches, directly advised by Lucifer. Because of the power basically woven into the pages, the spells and rituals cast using the book are more powerful.”
“That’s a thing?” Sam ran his hand through his hair.
“We gotta get to it before the witches bring it to Lucifer, then,” Dean spoke over his brother.
“Any idea where we start?” Jack asked plainly.
“Maybe ask our own witch to get it for us,” you suggested. “Rowena’s always in it for the power and she would want the Magicae Libro for herself.”
“Rowena is unpredictable,” Cas argued.
“She’s gotten better, though.”
“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Dean butted in. “She’d kill a bunch of people just out of spite.”
“We can let her take the book once Lucifer is under control once again.”
“We promised her powerful books before.” Cas wasn’t giving it to her.
“And the deals worked. We’re all still alive. The same deal can work again.”
“I am not giving the Magicae Libro to Rowena!”
“Then you and Jack go looking for it.”
“Jack is going nowhere,” Cas growled. “His father will be looking for him. We don’t want Lucifer to find the book and Jack in the same place.”
“Then we ask Rowena for help.”
“I can do it,” Jack agreed.
“No!” All three men yelled at the boy.
“Jack or Rowena.” You held out your hands and moved them up and down like a scale. “Jack or Rowena. Pick one.”
“Fine.” Cas glared at the table. “Call Rowena.”
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