My Cover's Blown: My Fic Recs

My Fic: Oh The Places You'll Go (The Office/SPN Crossover) 5/5

Fri, 16 Oct 2009 14:20:03 GMT

Title: Oh The Places You'll Go (5/5) - Epilogue
Rating: PG-15
Fandoms: The Office/Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Jim/Pam, hinted one sided Sam/Pam
Warnings: Spoilers for The Office up to end Season 5, and Supernatural up to end Episode 5x01.
Crack fic, and also, not exactly fluffy.
General Summary: In which Jim is possessed by a demon, Pam's world is utterly disrupted, Angela's a fallen angel, and Dean and Sam get involved.

Chapter Summary: What Pamela Beesly did when it was all over.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Epilogue

She didn’t go back to work. She didn’t want to face the cameras, which she figured, would be fixating on the macabre details of the ‘case’. There would also be Michael to contend with, and if she didn’t have the patience to deal with him then, she certainly didn’t have any left for him now.

Most of all, she didn’t want to have to face the brutal reminder of him, everywhere he wasn’t, and would never be again.

Money wasn’t an issue. Not yet. She had some savings, and she wasn’t burning through them, since she pretty much just remained all the time in her one-bedroom apartment.

His parents had sold the house, which was left automatically in their name. He never did write a will. They wanted to give her all the money, but she didn’t want any of it. They had cried profusely, and apologized a lot.

Part of her wanted to tell them the nursery would have been a lovely, pale yellow (nice and neutral without defining the kid, he had said the night they found out), but it would only have hurt everyone.

Her own mother was adamant about seeing her all the time, ready to coddle her.

She avoided all of them.

***

She didn’t avoid Poor Richard’s, which was where Sam was working as a waiter.

They didn’t speak much. She’d read a book in a corner in the evenings, and he’d send her a coffee on the house. After his shift, they’d usually have a beer together, talking about everything and nothing.

It helped, a little.

***

A month passed.

Two.

She started looking for a new job again, realizing she wasn’t good at staying home, doing nothing. It was alright to be sad, but it wasn’t alright to go crazy, she decided. She could grieve, and go to work at the same time, and it probably wouldn’t be betraying him.

Not that he would have wanted her to spend her life wasting away, come to think of it.

On her first day as a receptionist (again) at a bank, she remembered why she hated going to work in the first place.

***

“I have to go,” Sam said immediately after his shift. It was after her second day at work.

“Oh. I guess we’ll hang out tomorrow night then…” Pam replied uncertainly. Her new suit, a job requirement, itched. She missed wearing jeans and t-shirts all the time.

“No, I mean, I have to go. Back. To hunt.” He said awkwardly, shuffling from foot to foot.

“Right. Of course.” She nodded jerkily.

He hesitated.

“What?” she asked.

“It’s just…” he sat down opposite her. “It’s just, Lucifer showed up last night. As my ex-girlfriend.”

Pam figured it was better if she remained silent.

“He wants to use my body as his vessel.” He finished.

“So…you said ‘no’, right?” Pam squeaked.

He gave her a look.

“Fair enough.” She said. “So your ex huh? Did you two…”

“Geez Pam, no! It was Lucifer!” Sam looked disgusted. “I have to go. I have to figure out a way to stop him. And if that means putting myself back in temptation’s way so I can get a lead on how to do it…”

“Take me with you.” The words spilled out of her before she could stop them.

“What?” Sam looked shocked.

“You heard me.”

“Why?” he asked, confused.

“I…I can’t go back,” She admitted. “I can’t go back to my life knowing what’s out there. Knowing there are things out there, destroying lives they way they’ve destroyed mine,”

“Your life isn’t…”

“My…” she forced herself to say his name. “Jim was killed because some sonofabitch slithered into, him because it could. I can’t sit here and let it happen to others. I just…can’t.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not saying my life is over. I’m just saying…I’m just saying a certain chapter of it is over. And I don’t think I can do anything but start a new one,” Pam concluded quietly.

“Pam, it’s a…it’s not a good life. My Mom and my girlfriend were killed by a demon. Both my Dad and Dean went to hell. Real hell.” Sam emphasized, looking her in the eye. “I had to shoot a girl I got involved with because she became a werewolf, and let me tell you, that hurt. I’m the reason why the closest man I have to a father is in a wheelchair. This isn’t a life I chose. It chose me.”

She didn’t flinch.

“And there was that time we were wanted by the FBI,” he added. “Which doesn’t sound as impressive when you add it to the other stuff, but you know…”

“I lost my baby in the hands of the man I love…except his body was being paraded around by a fucking demon using him like a sock puppet.” She said, slipping off her seat and grabbing her purse.

“I’m not coming with you. You’re tagging along with me.” She told him, echoing her words from what felt like a lifetime ago.

She walked out the bar, leaving him staring at his hands.

***

She waited in her apartment. Her duffel bag was packed. Under the zipper and on top of her clothes lay her own handgun, which she had purchased, and loaded with rock-salt bullets she had found online. She did this a few weeks ago, after she went on her first job interview; she wasn’t sure why she did it at the time.

It was close to dawn, and there was still no sign of Sam. Maybe she had misjudged him.

Her bravado had faded the moment she left him. While it was true that she couldn’t willingly go back to her old life, that she felt a need to go out and exact vengeance against the forces that had ruined her life, the truth was, she had no idea at all where she ought to begin. There were so many things she didn’t know about the supernatural.

The duffel bag mocked her from beside of the front door. Sighing, she stood up from her little dining table that had come with the apartment and prepared to unpack.

Then her doorbell rang.

“Pam?”

Last chance Beesly, to walk away. Jim's voice, her real Jim, whispered in her ear. She smiled.

She found Sam waiting for her on the other side, a full backpack on his shoulders.

“I figured if we use your car, I wouldn’t have to spend money on a rental,” he said, scratching his head.

“Cheapskate.” She poked his shoulder as she stepped out with her things in hand.

“Meh.” He shrugged.

She closed the door behind her, not bothering to lock it. As they walked away, he asked,

“You ever think about getting a tattoo? Because there’s this one I think you’re gonna need if you’re serious about this…”

The End

Previous Chapter

A/N: I'm sorry Jim had to die. Honestly, I love him, I do. And I'm sorry I tortured Pam. But I'm not sorry that I made her strong enough to carry on, and I'm not sorry I gave Sam a potential almost-normal future with a nice girl...I hope no one hates me after this!

Everyone's comments have been fantastic! Thank you all! This was such a fun thing to write

My Fic: Oh The Places You'll Go (The Office/SPN Crossover) 4/5

Fri, 16 Oct 2009 14:09:26 GMT

Title: Oh The Places You'll Go (4/5)
Rating: PG-15
Fandoms: The Office/Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Jim/Pam, hinted one sided Sam/Pam
Warnings: Spoilers for The Office up to end Season 5, and Supernatural up to end Episode 5x01.
Crack fic, and also, not exactly fluffy.
General Summary: In which Jim is possessed by a demon, Pam's world is utterly disrupted, Angela's a fallen angel, and Dean and Sam get involved.
Chapter Summary: The conclusion in Pam’s journey. It ends in heartbreak…because not everyone was gonna survive.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Ten minutes away from the meadow, Pam’s phone rang again.

“Where are you right now?” Angela voice crackled on the other end as she bypassed all formalities.

“Three hours outside of New York,” Pam replied. “Hi Angela.”

“I’ll see you at Penn Station. 8th Avenue entrance. 4pm.”

“Thank you. I mean it.” She really did.

On the other side, Angela tightened her hold on the hilt of her sword, and hoped to God she was capable of doing the right thing, and remember that Jim was a co-worker, if not a friend.

***

The smell was what gave the city away. Fetid odours of stagnated human waste mingled with expensive perfume, mingled with the smell of roasted meat from barbeque stands.

“Now I remember why we don’t hang around massive cities.” Dean complained, slamming on his horn, his only mode of retaliation against the stationery traffic.

“That doesn’t help.” Sam said curtly.

“I know, but it makes me feel better.” Dean retorted childishly.

A beautiful woman crossed the street in front of him, in a very short denim skirt and a tight tank top. Dean’s eyes followed her until she disappeared.

Where are you? Pam wondered, as she looked down the busy sidewalks, filled to breaking point with humanity.

***

“Isn’t there something else we can be doing besides wait here for that tight-ass blonde chick to show?” Dean asked, looking out the window of the coffee house.

“I’m out of clues. Maybe she can give us an idea how to find Jim.” Pam stirred her coffee.
“We’ve been here so long,” Dean whined. “This is boring.”

“You don’t have to wait with me,” the young woman said more harshly than she intended.

Dean looked taken aback at her angry outburst, while his brother resolutely ignored him, focusing his attention on his laptop.

“There are only so many places he can be without getting spotted. He is highly wanted right now…” Sam murmured. He saw Pam’s pained expression, and shrugged apologetically.

“That’s helpful. In a city this size, it could be anywhere,” Dean snorted.

A bigger woman would have been able to deal with their fighting. Pam was not that woman. Pushing her chair back, she wandered over to the washrooms.

As expected, it was a filthy experience. While she washed her hands trying to touch as little as possible, she looked up in the mirror and found herself staring into a familiar face, close behind her.

“Hey Beesly.”

Grabbing her hair, the demon slammed her face forwards into the glass.

***

Sam wasn’t getting anywhere with his research. Truth be told, he was fiddling with his laptop to avoid having to speak with his brother. He was still absolutely furious at Dean. Not being able to figure out the demon’s location however, didn’t do much in the way of soothing his temper.

He glanced at the clock on the top right corner of his Macbook screen, and asked as amiably as he could,

“Where’s Pam?”

“Think she went to the washroom.” Dean said.

“Yeah, like fifteen minutes ago.” Sam felt a bolt of uneasiness shoot through him.

“Maybe she just wants some time alone,” Dean responded.

Deciding he wasn’t going to discuss this further, Sam made a beeline for the lavatories. Knocking on the ladies washroom door didn’t do anything. No one answered, or opened the door. Checking to make sure he wasn’t noticed, he pushed it open and looked in.

What greeted him was the sight of a shattered mirror, and blood streaming down from it into the dirty sink underneath. The cubicles were all clearly empty. Sam backed out. Instead of returning to their table, he opened the emergency exit beside the washroom and stepped out into a back alley. There was no one in sight.

Picking a direction, he began walking, dialing Dean’s number on his cell phone in the process.

“Dean, on my laptop, find out where Alex Polini’s address is.” He said, as soon as his brother picked up.

“Why do you want to know?” he could hear Dean typing quickly on the other side.

“Pam’s not in the washroom, but there’s blood everywhere. I think he took her out the back way.”

“Are you trying to find them yourself?” Dean asked.

“Just…tell me where the address is.” Sam stepped onto the main street, looking hopelessly at the throngs of people surrounding him. “He wants her to suffer. It would only make sense.”

“Fuck,” Dean cursed. “We’re going to need the car if you’re right.”

Sam raced back to the café.

***

Closing the laptop, Dean stood up, ready to leave when he saw a familiar blonde woman across the street waiting at the entrance of Penn Station. Luckily, she spotted him and dashed in his direction. A cacophony of curses and car horns followed her, but she ignored all of them.

“Where’s Pam?” she asked Dean, who had stepped out onto the pavement.

“He’s taken her.” Sam said as he ran up to them, his breath coming in short spurts.

“What?” Angela asked, aghast. “You’re both so…useless.”

“Listen lady…” Dean started hotly, but his brother grabbed his arm.

“Not now. We have to get to her.” Sam turned back to the accountant. “I think I know where.”

***

“Jesus, Beesly, just sleep the whole day away, why not?” Jim’s voice said affectionately.
Her forehead stung, and she could feel something wet slowly dripping down her face. Blood. Her own blood.

She opened her eyes, focusing on the figure before her.

“Jim?” she asked, feeling wretched for even thinking it.

“If a person is defined by the sum of his memories and experiences, then yes, I suppose I am Jim.” The demon laughed cruelly. “I have all of it here, in my head.”

“How did you even find me?” she asked, trying to snap out of her daze.

“How could I not? This body I’m in…it’s so…aware of everything about you. I could pick your scent out five blocks away babe.”

She was in Alex’s apartment, she realized. She had only been in it once before. There was less broken stuff lying around the last time. Pushing herself up to a sitting position, she noted that she hadn’t been tied up – whether or not this was a very good thing, or very bad, was too soon to tell.

“When I took over this body, I found this entire…trove…of memories. All revolving around you.” The demon continued, pacing two feet in front of her, “Jim Halpert…wow. He’s been in love with you so long. You knew it. You always knew it. Am I right Beesly?”

The thing looked at her out of Jim’s hazel eyes. She choked out an agonized,

“Yes.”

“And what did you do? Tease him. Flaunted everything he couldn’t have right in his face.” The demon made a disapproving sound. “How like a woman.”

“Give him back to me.” Pam said fiercely, at the same time, pushing away from him with her legs. To the demon, it seemed as though she was simply trying to put more distance between the two of them. For Pam however, her squirming confirmed that the loaded handgun Dean had pressed into her hands earlier was still tucked in her waistband, hidden by the huge T-shirt she was wearing.

“I don’t think so. It’d be unkind wouldn’t you say?” Jim’s lips twisted in an unfamiliar smirk. “Aside from the fact that he’s now a wanted man, who can only look forward to being put away for a very, very long time…what does he have to go back to? You?”

He drew close to her, sweeping her blood-matted hair away from her face. His eyes were obsidian now.

“Jim had a promising career. You’re just the receptionist he knocked up. Honestly, do you think you deserve him?”

Pam opened her mouth to say something, but his fingers found her left hand, and squeezed. She could feel her bones begin to shatter. Instead of speaking, she gasped in pain.

“Oh right. You’re a saleswoman. Sorry, I forgot…well mostly because you suck at it.” the demon laughed. “Let’s face it. If not for Michael being such a fucking nitwit, you’d still be sitting at front desk, dreaming your little dreams of being an artist…which of course, you also failed at.”

Viciously, he pulled. There was a loud ‘pop’. That was the sound of her shoulder being dislocated, she realized distantly as she shrieked in pain.

“You were supposed to let me know when she woke up so I can play too,” a voice Pam didn’t recognize asked. Letting go of her, the demon stood up, warmly embracing a woman. No, not a woman, she realized, observing the second pair of utterly lightless eyes.

The two of them kissed passionately. Pam wondered if the demon actually thought it might have hurt her. Her functioning right hand began to creep towards the gun, but she froze when the second demon turned to her.

“I thought you said she was thin.”

“Hey!” Pam exclaimed indignantly.

Someone knocked on the door just then. A voice called out,

“This is the police. There’s been reports of a disturbance. This is a crime scene, and you can be charged with interfering with an investigation.”

The demons looked exasperated; Pam forced herself not to react.

“I’ll take care of it,” said the woman.

Dragged to her feet by her dislocated arm, the pregnant woman screamed in pain as she was hauled into the bedroom. A hand clamped over her mouth.

***

Using her sword, Angela scratched the Devil’s Trap into the concrete floor outside apartment 1210. Her markings glowed with an ethereal light that flowed out of the very blade.

“Hurry up.” Dean whispered, wishing he had thought to bring something else to do this with.

“Do you want this done fast or done right?” Angela replied waspishly. “Honestly!”
Nevertheless, she sped up her movements.

“Cool sword.” Dean said grudgingly.

“Angel’s sword.” She said it like a warning.

Finally, it was finished. Both her and Sam stood out of sight of the peephole, while Dean walked right up to the door and knocked. Angela fidgeted. She could smell two demons. Her shoulders tensed.

“This is the police. There’s been reports of a disturbance. This is a crime scene, and you can be charged with interfering with an investigation.” Dean announced and took a step back.
Conversation within ceased for a moment, before it was punctuated with a muffled scream.

***

Fear stabbed at Sam when he heard Pam’s scream. Someone approached the door on the other side.

“Officer, I can explain,” a woman said tearfully as she emerged. She looked around her, and then down on the ground. Her expression changed from sorrow to annoyance. “Crap.”

“Take care of this.” Sam said, dashing in, Angela following close behind. Dean pulled out a well-worn leather bound book from one of his pockets, and began to read from its Latin passages.

***

They could hear that the confrontation was going awry in the living room. Cursing, the demon turned away for one moment to lock the bedroom door.

Remembering her self-defense classes, Pam stomped hard on Jim’s foot the moment she could balance herself, which caused him to stumble, loosening his iron grip. Wrenching away, she drew the out the gun and pointed it as steadily as she could.

“Bitch.” he growled.

She fired.

The demon shrieked as the rock salt entered his shoulder. Jim’s body convulsed as he hit the ground, braced on all fours.

“Pam…” Jim’s voice wheezed.

She cocked the gun, ready to fire again.

“Pam, it’s me…”

“Pam!” Sam was yelling outside.

“You have to believe me…” he looked up at her, his eyes that wonderful, familiar hazel.

She lowered her weapon and stepped closer. Outside, they were trying to break the barrier down.

“I…I saw everything it was doing. All those people…” tears welled up in his eyes. She had never seen him so broken. “Oh my god…Pam…they begged…and it wouldn’t stop…”
She reached out her right hand to touch his cheek.

“Beesly…” he staggered upright, curling a hand around her neck, his fingers caught in her loosened curls.

“Jim?” she asked, but she was already realizing her mistake.

His expression changed swiftly. She found him pulling at her hair once again, forcing her to bend over backwards. Ignoring her cry of horror, he snatched the gun from her and pointed it towards her belly...

***

The door splintered and opened at last. Angela and Sam stormed into the room, but it was too late. Much too late.

Angela howled in fury at the sight before her.

“Wait!” Sam shouted.

Her angelic instincts however, the ones ingrained into the very fibre of her being by her creator overrode all reason for mercy – not for a demon such as this, not with her sword in hand. She didn’t see Jim’s face. All she saw was the demon’s ugly countenance leering at her. Angela drew her arm back swiftly, and rammed it cleanly through Jim’s heart. The blade looked like a bolt of lightning as it burnt the unclean thing out of the universe. As she pulled free, Jim collapsed like a ragdoll beside Pam.

***

She could see his eyes now, as they gazed at her, all life fleeing from within. How she could ever have mistaken that…thing…for him before, she had no idea, and she was ashamed for it.

“I’m so sorry…” he breathed.

“I love you…” she mouthed, unable to form real words.

He was gone.

Pam desperately wished she could follow.

***

Sam forced himself to concentrate on Pam, not Angela’s dripping sword. He hadn’t expected such longing to come over him, until he saw the demon’s blood puddling under the weapon. If Dean could see his dilemma, he said nothing.

The young woman’s entire body was shaking with the force of her cries as he lifted her. She shrieked in pain with every move.

“That’s why I told her I couldn’t be here,” Angela said, her eyes closed, the bloodlust faded away to nothing. “I thought maybe I was stronger than that. Thought that I could stop myself…”

“You stopped him,” Dean said. “That’s what counts.”

“And now she wished she were dead.” The former angel turned to go. She said quietly over her shoulder, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Then, Angela was gone.

“My baby…” Pam whimpered. “Oh god my baby…”

The two brothers looked at each other, each seeing his horror mirrored in the other’s face.

***

They stitched up a wound in her lower abdomen, and bound her injured limb, setting the arm right first. She was free to go in twenty-four hours, she was told.

Which was good news, Sam had babbled. It meant there was no lasting damage despite...

“Well, the cast will be removed in four weeks.” He finished weakly, and repeated. “That’s good news.”

She managed to smile at him, even if it was a pitiful excuse of a smile, and really, all she wanted to do was to curl up and die.

Dean popped in to say goodbye. Have to go save the world and all that crap, he quipped, squeezing her hand tightly. Abruptly, he let go and practically ran out the door.

“He’s not good with farewells,” Sam said, by way of apology.

“Aren’t you going with him?” she asked dully.

“No. I’m not,” he replied, looking away.

The next day, he drove her back to Scranton in a rental car, and left her at her doorstep, promising that he was at the motel two blocks away if she needed anything at all.

***

Closing the door behind her, she sank to the ground and wept.

Epilogue

Previous Chapter

My Fic: Oh The Places You'll Go (The Office/SPN Crossover) 3/?

Wed, 14 Oct 2009 20:14:55 GMT

Title: Oh The Places You'll Go (3/?)
Rating: PG-15
Fandoms: The Office/Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Jim/Pam, hinted one sided Sam/Pam
Warnings: Spoilers for The Office up to end Season 5, and Supernatural up to end Episode 5x01.
Crack fic, and also, not exactly fluffy.
General Summary: In which Jim is possessed by a demon, Pam's world is utterly disrupted, Angela's a fallen angel, and Dean and Sam get involved.
Chapter Summary: Conversations in a bar, Angela and Dwight talk, Pam learns how to shoot and Dean annoys Sam. Not much action this chapter. Castiel cameos.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

The Pine Tree Inn on Route 28 might not have been the Ritz, but Pam didn’t really give a shit. It was close to midnight. Lying on top of the covers, she was too afraid to close her eyes, because when she did, she kept seeing the horror that had hung in room 108.

Sleep, she doubted, would be hers.

A door opened and shut. It was the room to her right – Sam and Dean’s room. Then she heard a yelp, followed by,

“Holy shit! Cas! God! You have to stop popping up like that!”

Despite everything, she found herself intrigued, and lay still, trying to hear the muffled conversation happening in the corridor outside.

“Hello Dean.” A voice replied calmly.

Dean didn’t respond. She could practically see him glowering.

“I can see you’ve…been distracted,” The one Dean referred to as Cas said. “I find that surprising, considering the events that have recently transpired.”

“I’m a hunter. This is what I do. I find it…less surprising that I’m on the trail of a bloodthirsty sonofabitch from hell.”

“Should your efforts not be focused on finding the whereabouts of Lucifer?”

Pam bit her bottom lip. She sat up, and began to creep towards the window that looked out on the corridor.

“Where would I even start?” Dean sounded frustrated. “Should I post pictures on the back of milk cartons? Do I put ‘missing’ posters up at Walmart? ‘Have you seen me? I’m the Prince of Darkness’”

“There are portents, signs…”

Dean sighed. Pam peered through a crack in her curtains, to see a dark haired man standing together with the hunter.

“Look man. One thing at a time. I’ll get to Lucifer. Right now, I’ve got a serial killing demon running around with a fixation, and a real sick sense of humour. I can’t just walk away from it.”

The other man considered this, and nodded, before saying,

“I need the pendant.”

“Don’t share accessories. Cosmogirl, page 11.”

“Dean, I believe it’s a holy relic that is grows hot in the presence of God,” He persisted. “I need it. Only until I have found that which I seek.”

The hunter grunted in annoyance. Pam watched as he slipped it over his head, and passed it to ‘Cas’. Without any warning, the stranger turned around and looked directly at Pam through the gap in her curtains.

“I am sorry for your troubles.” He intoned solemnly.

Pam blinked, only to find herself staring at a bemused Dean, the other man nowhere in sight. Feeling the need to explain her eavesdropping, she unlocked her door and stepped out.

“I didn’t mean to…I just…” she floundered.

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled tiredly. “Can’t sleep?”

She shook her head.

“Wanna join me for a drink at the bar?” he offered.

***

Sipping on a beer in a secluded booth, Pam felt some of the tension begin to ease from her shoulders. One beer, she decided, couldn’t be that terrible for the baby.

“I gotta say I’m impressed. You seem to be taking this…not well, but you know…good, considering,” Dean said.

“Am I?” she asked dryly. “I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“That’s what it’s trying to do. Drive you insane.” Dean cautioned seriously.

“Yeah. I’m getting that.” She took a long pull of her beverage.

They stared at the empty bar in silence for some time. Finally, she asked,

“So. Lucifer huh?”

“You heard that didja?” Dean cocked a sideways grin at her.

“What’s that about?” she asked.

“You want the short version or the long version?”

“Don’t care.”

“Sam started the apocalypse by freeing Lucifer.” Dean drank deeply from his own bottle. “I figured, you living on this earth and all, you probably had a right to know it’s about to end.”

Pam set her drink down and racked her mind, trying to formulate a response.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to do it,” She said lamely, at last.

Her companion burst out laughing. She followed, knowing how ridiculous her words sounded. Dismissing his claims of the apocalyptic future didn’t even cross her mind. More weight lifted from her heart as she observed him. It was obvious that he hadn’t had much to be cheerful about in some time.

***

“Hey.” It was Sam, standing by their booth, offering a small wave.

It was closer to two in the morning by then, if the clock on the wall was to be trusted. Dean had spent the last few hours confirming and debunking Pam’s knowledge of the supernatural. She would have been disturbed at most of what she had learnt, if she wasn’t quite amused by drunk Dean.

“What are you doing up at this time of the night? Dean asked suspiciously, trying not to sway in his seat.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Sam said. “Thought I’d come down and see if I could get a night cap.”

Anyone could see that all good humour had drained out of Dean. He stood up stiffly and said,

“Pam, it was nice talking to you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He didn’t look at his brother. “Sam.”

With that, he brushed past Sam. The younger man slunk into the recently vacated seat with a defeated look on his face.

“Sorry you had to see that.” He offered miserably.

“You don’t need to apologize.” She said, wondering how this nice, helpful man could apparently be the Antichrist, who was bringing about doomsday.

“We’re just having some issues right now. I mean, you know, when I first met you, I was saying stuff about how I drank some demon blood…which sounds so gross when I say it out loud.” he seemed to be talking himself. His restless fingers peeled at the label of the beer bottle Dean had left behind. “I thought it helped me do good. It made me stronger…I was so stupid.”

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” Pam quoted and yawned, feeling the exhaustion finally take hold of her. “Although I read somewhere, it was actually paved with frozen door-to-door salesmen.”

He smiled at her.

“Shall I walk you back to your room?” he offered.

“You just got here. I can make it back myself.” She assured.

But Sam was insistent. He would have left her at her door, but he stopped at the sound of her soft crying. He turned back, unsure of what he should do or say, but feeling that he shouldn’t leave her alone.

“It’ll be ok. We’ll find him. We’ll fix it, I promise.” He wished his assurance didn’t sound so hollow.

“Was it me?” she asked softly. “Did I do something wrong? Did I somehow do this to Jim?”

“No it’s not you. Shit like this happens. All the time.” Sam said, moving closer.

“I feel like it’s my fault that people are dead. I mean, they look like me, and I think…” her face crumpled further. “I think he was…my friend Alex. On the phone…I heard…”

Heartbroken sobs tore from her chest, making it impossible to understand the words she was trying to use, but Sam figured it out nonetheless. He reached over and hugged her close.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to…”

“Stop apologizing,” Sam stated. “Just…you have to be strong. If you break, the demon wins.”

Pam nodded, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

“Get some sleep ok? We start for New York City tomorrow morning,” he continued in a low, deadly voice, “We’ll find that demon bastard and get him out of your fiance’s body.”

She sniffed, and looked up with a grateful smile, her larges eyes shining in the dim light.

Sam found himself unable to keep from grinning back at the woman in his arms. He kept smiling long after he fell asleep, which was surprisingly, much easier the second time around.

***

“I can’t just sit here while Jim’s body is being held hostage by a spawn of hell,” Dwight said, pacing Angela’s living room. His glass of scotch sat untouched on her dining table. The time was three in the afternoon, and this had been going on for a long time. Too long.

“You don’t know the first thing about fighting a demon.” Angela sounded bored as she said this, but it was understandable, considering she was only repeating herself for what felt like the thousandth time.

“You seem to have a good idea. C’mon Monkey, think what a great team we’d make!” he knelt in front of her, eyes intense.

“Why is it that everyone is so eager for me to join in?” she muttered, pushing away from him.

“Because with great power comes great responsibility.” Dwight gestured grandly.

“That’s from Spiderman.” Angela rolled her eyes. “And it only works if I had power.”

“You have knowledge. Knowledge is power!”

“What have I done?” she stood up and stalked away from him towards the kitchen. Unfortunately, he followed.

“Monkey…” he said wrapping his arms around her from the back. “You know you should help. We can’t just let that thing get away with it. What does your heart say?”

“My heart says please, get out. I need to take a shower. And also tells me I’m an idiot.” she snapped, shaking him off. What had led her to think that explaining this to Dwight was in any shape or form, a good idea?

“You’re not an idiot. You came to someone who can help, who…”

“Dwight, listen to me. Have you considered how unlikely the story I just told you was? Has it ever occurred to you that I was in shock? Maybe I started saying strange things to help me cope,” Angela yelled, shaking a teaspoon threateningly at him. “Think about the absolute insanity of everything I just told you!”

Her words had the effect she wanted. He crashed down to earth, and blinked.

“I’m sorry Angela. I guess…I wasn’t thinking. I should be more concerned about how you feel right now…I’m in shock too.”

“That’s ok.” She said, lowering her spoon.

Thankfully, he left soon after.

Much later, after running a thousand useless errands to distract herself, Angela did something she would never have believed she was capable of, at nine o’clock.

She fell asleep in front of the television.

***

“The police think its better that I’m not home,” Pam said, tucking her phone away into her duffel bag. “They think he’s going to come for me soon, and it’s better he didn’t know where I was.”

“May be better he comes to us.” Dean said, looking at her through the rearview mirror. "Instead of us driving up and down the East Coast."

She leaned backwards, eyelids sliding shut. She could feel a headache building.

“You doing ok back there?” Sam asked.

“I’m fine.” She insisted. “It’s just…”

***

“…body of Alex Polini was found this morning hanging from the neck at the entrance of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. Police believe this is connected to Jim Halpert, who is already a prime suspect in the murder of Marie Sanderson, in Scranton Pennsylvania. Polini was a classmate of Ms. Pamela Beesly, Jim Halpert’s fiance, at New York University. It was speculated that Halpert had suspected the two of having an affair…”

Angela had woken up at six-thirty Sunday morning, her neck killing her. Sleeping on the couch was absolute torment. But her neck was the least of her worries as she looked at the news on her television screen. A policeman told the press,

“…although the autopsy reports have not been released, it looks like almost every bone in this man’s body has been methodically shattered…”

Angela stood up and walked to her bedroom. She opened her closet and shifted her clothes aside. A plain wooden box sat, as if waiting for her. Picking it up, she set the box on her lap, whereupon she carefully undid the intricate clasp. Slowly, she lifted the cover.

A sword lay in finest satin within, its blade still shining even though it had not been touched in a thousand years. Once, it had flamed, she remembered, lifting it by the hilt. It had also survived many moves across the planet, and one unfortunate period when she had misplaced it during the Spanish inquisition – she was spring-cleaning.

She set the box aside, and hefted the weapon. Experimentally, she sliced and parried in the air, listening to the glorious way it sang. It was heavy in her hands; in almost anyone else’s, it might have dislocated an arm.

It might no longer be a flaming sword, she thought, but the blade still resonated with power.

She found her phone, and dialed.

***

“Ok, I’m not fine.” Pam admitted, adding firmly, “But I don’t have time to sit around feeling sorry for myself right now. When this is over, I’ll have time to think about Alex, about those poor murdered girls. Just not now.”

Dean asked,

“What do you know about guns?”

“My father used to take me deer hunting, and taught me to use a rifle. He said I’m a good shot, and never understood why I never got a buck of my own.” She shrugged.

“That’s a cute story,” Dean laughed, almost manically.

They had been driving down a dirt road for the last twenty minutes, with no one around that Pam could see, or even buildings…in general, no signs of civilization beyond the occasional rusty gatepost. Dean swerved the Impala to the left, and drove right onto an open field. He cut the engine.

“Princess,” he said, looking back at a nervous Pam. “You’re gonna learn how to shoot.”

***

“Legs apart.” Sam said. “Keeps you steady.”

“Like when shooting with an SLR.” Pam said, trying to keep her hands from moving as she pointed the weapon into the distance. Dean was arranging several empty glass bottles on a tree stump. They had been found in the recesses of his bottomless trunk. Pam had gasped out loud when she finally caught sight of the arsenal the two hunters drove around with. Surreal, she thought again, like she had accidentally stumbled into someone else’s life.

“You’re into photography?” Sam asked, pleasantly surprised, lightly pulling her shoulders back a little.

“Art school dropout actually.” She sounded embarrassed.

“Meh. I’m a law school dropout.” He smiled wryly.

“Would never have guessed,” she looked down the barrel of her weapon. “You’re so shy. I thought lawyers were always slick, cutthroat jackasses.”

“You ain’t seen my lawyer side yet Beesly,” he replied.

Her aim faltered immediately. Beesly. That was what Jim used to call her. That was what demon Jim called her.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Dean called, coming back. “Squeeze the trigger.”

“I’m not sure about these bullets with rock salt. You sure they don’t actually hurt people?” she demanded, lowering her weapon completely. “I’m totally against the NRA.”

“They sting of course,” Sam shrugged. “But on demons, it stings like holy hell without permanently damaging the host body.”

Pam nodded, and pointed the gun in her hand again. Sam stepped away, observing her form admiringly. Something about the way he looked at her made Dean stop in his tracks.

***

“Dude, she’s got a fiance,” Dean hissed quietly as soon as Pam was in the car and the doors were shut, leaving the two of them outside.

“Umm…yeah. I know.” Sam said, wondering if the recent weeks had finally driven his brother over the edge.

“You sure you realize that once this is over, she’s going back with him, and you don’t get to keep her?” Dean demanded. “You sure you’re not going to try ganking him so you can have her for yourself? Easier than an exorcism.”

“Dean, what the fuck?” his patience was at an end.

“I’m just sayin’ you like taking the easy way. Ruby offered it to you and look what you did. I mean, let’s say it’s you and him in a room, and you had the dagger. What would you do? Besides bleeding him dry first, obviously.” Dean’s eyes were hard as flint. “You gonna go through the trouble of reciting a latin prayer, or you just gonna stab him, and wait for his cute girlfriend to fall into your arms?”

Without waiting for a response, Dean went over to the drivers’ side and got in.

“How did I do?” Pam asked, oblivious to what had just happened outside.

“You’re an ok first-timer.” He replied brightly. Pam could see he was doing his best not to say she was utter crap. “We’ll keep working on it.”

Sam climbed in, slamming the door. He stared out the window sullenly. For once, Dean didn’t put any music on, and Pam was too consumed in her thoughts to see the chasm that had been uncovered in front of her.

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

My Fic: Oh The Places You'll Go (The Office/SPN Crossover) 2/?

Wed, 14 Oct 2009 03:37:37 GMT

Title: Oh The Places You'll Go (2/?)
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms: The Office/Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Jim/Pam for now
Warnings: Spoilers for The Office up to end Season 5, and Supernatural up to end Episode 5x01.
Crack fic, and also, not exactly fluffy.
General Summary: In which Jim is possessed by a demon, Pam's world is utterly disrupted, Angela's a fallen angel, and Dean and Sam get involved.
Chapter Summary: The hunt begins.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

There were two demon hunting brothers sitting in her kitchen drinking coffee with her co-worker who was, if it were to be believed, a fallen angel. Her fiancé was missing because he had been possessed by a homicidal demon, a theory corroborated by all three.

Pam wondered if she should tell her mother any of that.

“I’m alright Mom. It’s all a big misunderstanding. It wasn’t Jim,” she said instead.

“I can’t believe you’re defending the bastard after what he did to you!”

“Mom, I was there. The security tapes were blurred. It was an intruder who got into the office.”

“What about the murder of that poor girl at the bar?” her mother demanded.

“I don’t know, but it wasn’t Jim.” The young woman tried to sound confident.

“There were witnesses who saw them leave together.” was the hissed reply. “People who recognized Jim Halpert.”

“Mom, even if…even if Jim was cheating on me,” Pam choked out the words. “I don’t believe he’s capable of killing someone. Please. You have to trust me on this.”

She spent the next few minutes comforting her mother, insisting that she did not need any company. When she finally got off the phone, she returned to the kitchen to find three individuals sitting in uncomfortable silence.

“I’ve disconnected the landlines. Michael’s been trying to call.” She smiled wanly at Angela. She didn’t see Dean’s involuntarily shudder at the mention of that name, although Angela did not miss it. “On the bright side, his message says I can have a leave of absence for as long as I want.”

“Ms. Beesly,” the taller one, Sam, started. “Do you have any idea at all where your fiancé might be?”

“That’s not my fiancé.” Pam snapped. “That’s something going around wearing his face.”

“Fine, but if it’s all the same to you...” The other one, Dean, replied calmly.

“We were going to use a locating spell.” Angela cut in.

“You’re an angel. Can’t you just use your mojo to locate him?” Dean asked darkly.

“Fallen angel. I don’t have much powers left,” She admitted grudgingly.

“Well let’s get to it then. We’re burning daylight here.” The older brother stood up. “What do we need?”

***

Many unrecognizable chants, an old sock belonging to Jim, some hand-holding and a map with a burnt hole slightly north of Scranton later, Pam stood up, eyes burning with determination.

“You can’t come with us,” Dean said, attempting to sound authoritative. “You’ll only get in the way.”

“I’m not coming with you. You’re tagging along with me.” She retorted hotly. “Angela, we’re…”

“No no. No. No. I’m not coming. I’m not getting involved with this.” Her co-worker’s expression became shuttered. “That’s not my world, not anymore. And if you’re smart, you’d let these two handle it. It’s their job.”

“I can’t walk away from this.” Pam implored. “Angela please…its Jim.”

Dimly, she was aware that the brothers arguing with each other. (“If we don’t take her, she’ll go alone and get herself killed” , "She'll just fuck us up" and so on.)

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” Angela looked at her sadly. She looked over at the hunters, who seemed to be reaching a decision.

“Why not?” the younger woman asked. Angela simply shook her head wearily.

“Ms. Beesly…” Sam began.

“Pam.”

“Pam, please come with us. I’m sure we could use your help.” Sam said politely. His brother gave a disgusted grunt.

“Just…no food in the car, got that?” Dean stated flatly, not looking at anyone.

“Thank you.” Pam felt as if she was about to cry. She gave a watery smile instead. “Give me two minutes, I’m going to go get dressed, pack some things. Don’t think I should be out fighting evil in my jammies.”

***

What on earth was a girl supposed to pack in a situation like this one, Pam wondered as she pulled on her jeans and slipped an oversized T-shirt over her head.

Shoes? Make-up?

Toothbrush. That’s where she needed to start. Clean underwear. Clean shirts. Pregnancy pills. Cell charger.

She began throwing stuff into a small duffel bag. At her dresser, as she rummaged for a scrunchie to hold her hair back, she realized that the text message light on her cell phone was blinking. Flipping open her phone, her heart skipped a beat.

It was a message from Jim’s number, which read, “route 17, red cardinal motel, room 108.” It was sent at 7.13am in the morning.

Taking a deep breath, she finished her packing as quickly as she could, and hurried back to the others. Angela stood by the windows watching Dean who was already outside, adjusting something in the trunk of his car - the vintage looking one which had replaced the black Saturn. Sam waited patiently on her couch, looking enquiringly at her perplexed expression. She held her phone out to him wordlessly, showing him the text.

“Guess we know where to start looking.” He said grimly.

“Pam, before you go…” Angela walked over. She reached over and clasped Pam’s free hand, pressing something into it. It was her crucifix pendant, the one the accountant always wore.

“These hunters,” she continued. “They’ll take care things for you…and Jim. If you need me, you know my number.”

“Are you sure you won’t come?” Pam asked hopefully, grasping the necklace tightly.

“Come back and I’ll tell you why, someday,” Angela said, and walked out the house. Pam watched as the other woman got into her car and drove away.

“Shall we?” Sam asked, gesturing towards the door. Pam nodded, barely trusting her voice not to give her anxiety away. She tucked the necklace into her pocket. A voice in her mind asked her if this was really a good idea, driving off with two strange men she had only just met, who had entered her home masquerading as FBI agents. Shockingly, she almost giggled at the thought, it was Dwight’s voice she was hearing.

“How can I trust you?” she asked reasonably. “How do I know the two of you won’t rape and murder me and dump my body somewhere? Preferably, in that order...though obviously, not preferably. You know what I mean.”

“Nobody’s forcing you to come with us.” Sam sounded equally reasonable as he looked down at her, hiding a hint of laughter. “You’re the one who wanted to go looking for your boyfriend. But, if you’re having second thoughts, you can stay here if you like. We’ll call you if anything turns up. No one will think any less of you.”

Pam closed her eyes. It was either she went with these strangers, or she went alone. And right then, she had too much ‘alone’ to deal with.

“I would. I’d think less of me.” She said at last, and followed Sam out, locking the front door in what she felt was an exceedingly futile gesture. Dean was already in the drivers’ seat, fingers tapping agitatedly at the steering wheel. Climbing in hurriedly, Pam breathed in the smell of old leather, finding that it was surprisingly relaxing.

“About damn time. Christ, while you two ladies were chatting, that demon’s probably gone off ganking a couple more…” Dean caught Pam’s eye in the rearview mirror and trailed off. He had the decency to flush with embarrassment, while Sam made a clucking noise of disapproval.

“We’ve got a lead.” Sam indicated that Pam should show the text message, so she did.

“That's slightly north of where the spell said. Not bad,” Dean started the car. Strains of Led Zeppelin’s “Black Country Woman” filled the vehicle, loud enough to make Pam wince.

“You know where this is?” Pam asked, surprised. She had been confused by the text herself, even though she had recognized them for directions. Dean pulled away from the curb.

“We’ve stayed at the Red Cardinal. Years ago. Last time we passed it was three months ago, and it was abandoned.” Sam explained.

There was a long silence filled only by Zeppelin, which turned into Jim Morrison after a while. Pam watched as her neighbourhood, her world slipped away outside the windows, houses melting into each other like watercolours blending. Eventually, they were out of Scranton altogether, driving on a highway she was barely familiar with. Despite the loud music, she fell into a restless sleep, in which she dreamed a dream of being back in the office. The cubicles seemed more like an ever-darkening maze, with Angela constantly shouting directions at her in the form of riddles.

***

The moment Angela stepped out of the car into her own driveway, she regretted ever doing it. The documentary crew was already there, cameras rolling excitedly.

Probably, it was a bonus for them, investigating the impact of working side-by-side with a killer in the office.

“Please just leave me alone.” She said, waving the cameras away. This was followed by a slew of protests. Through that noise, she picked out one solitary voice. Turning, she found the man she was looking for in the small crowd and dragged him out to stand by her.

“She said to leave her alone.” Dwight waved off the cameras imperiously as she hurried to open her door. Succeeding, she stepped in, pulling her ex-boyfriend along, slamming the door loudly as she did so. Quickly, she proceeded to close all her white, lacy drapes. Dwight took the hint and did the same.

“Are you ok?” he asked, the moment they were out of the cameras’ line of sight.

“Yea, I’m fine…” she breathed, removing her heels and sitting down at her dining table. She covered her face with her hands.

“I know you were working late yesterday when it happened.” Dwight sat down next to her. “I was worried. What the hell happened? How could Jim have…”

“It wasn’t Jim.” She said before she could stop herself.

“What do you mean it wasn’t Jim?” Dwight asked, frowning in consternation.

"It’s…it’s a long story.” Angela said. “And I’m really tired. Can this wait, please? Till another day?”

Dwight looked like he might have protested. He had questions. Of course he did, Angela thought. He’d known Jim for years, and despite their silly, childish spats, Dwight didn’t for one minute, believe in his heart that Jim was capable of such horrific deeds. Then, any illusions she had of Dwight's outlook however, was shot straight to hell, as he drew a paper from his jacket, and showed her the photograph of Marie Sanderson splashed across the front page. Angela caught her breath. The girl could have been Pam’s twin sister.

“I knew his obsession would lead to disaster someday.” Dwight said, his triumph laced with…something. Sorrow. Regret.

“Dwight…”

“I can’t believe I missed it…”

“Dwight.”

“Right under my nose all this time and I…”

“Dwight.” She said, very sharply. He paused, looking at her.

What the hell, she decided. Angela mustered her patience and smiled at the man.

“Pour yourself a drink. You’re going to need it.”

***

Dean was reaching back from his seat and shaking her gently. Somehow, she had ended up lying stretched across the backseat of the car. Opening her eyes and looking out the side window, all she could see were woods. All she could hear was the occasional sound of a passing car not far away.

“What’s going on?” she asked groggily, trying not to feel afraid that indeed, they were going to rape and murder her.

“We’re here.” He said. His eyes flitted away. “I don’t think you should come.”

“No, I came all this way…” Pam sat up, and saw that they were in the parking lot of a rundown, one-storey establishment. A large, dilapidated sign loomed over them, proclaiming the estate as the “Red Cardinal Motel”. The white walls were stained by weather; the empty windows of each room stared out at her like corpses’ eyes.

“I mean Sam. I don’t mean you.” Dean said, staring straight ahead.

“What? Why?” Sam asked.

“There could be a demon waiting in there. There could be a fight. There could be blood. Why do you think?” Dean snapped.

“Dammit Dean, we’ve been over this. I’m not touching that shit anymore.” Was the heartfelt, angry protest. Pam recalled a conversation about ‘demon blood’ between Angela and Sam.

"Hey you guys, can we figure this out later? My fiancé could be in there…”

Dean sighed.

“Fine. Let’s go. Pam, you stay close to me. That’s not a request.” He said at last in a voice that brooked no argument, and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

“You ok?” Pam found herself asking Sam, reaching to touch him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m…I’m fine.” He patted her hand absently, and then he made to get out too.

“Hey,” she stopped him. “Don’t I get a weapon?”

“Yeah.” Dean stuck his head in the front window. “Me. Now are we gonna get a move-along Princess, or are we gonna sit here and have a tea party?”

***

Mimicking Dean’s moves seemed like the right thing to do, and yet she could not get her footsteps to stop crunching loudly on the gravel. For her guide though, it was almost as if he floated above the ground. She muttered a soft ‘sorry’ once, only to get a dirty look for her efforts.

Dean, she decided grumpily, wasn’t the nicest guy to be around.

They stole along the corridor facing the parking lot, passing room after room.

105
106
107…
108.

Dean reached a tentative hand out and tried to twist the doorknob, but the room appeared to be locked from the inside, causing a wild rush of hope to flood her heart. Perhaps Jim was inside. Perhaps the demon had left him alone and now he was in there, hiding from the police, scared but alive, and healthy.

Kneeling down, the older brother reached into his pocket and drew out a shiny piece of wire. Seconds felt like hours as he picked gently at the lock, while Sam kept a lookout to make sure none of the passing cars on Route 17 were paying them any attention. The light was fading fast, leaving them drenched in the murky gloom of the early evening.

There was a soft click, and the door swung open.

All hope died, as she gazed at the sight before her. A strangled scream erupted from her lips, and her knees would have buckled, sending her crashing onto the hard ground, were it not for Sam’s waiting arms.

“Steady, steady…” he murmured gently.

From the ceiling hung a meat hook. Several meat hooks. That wasn’t what caught her attention. It was the sight of a girl hanging from those hooks which dug cruelly into her arms, thighs, calves and neck which did it. The skin and flesh of her torso had been sliced open and peeled outwards, revealing an empty chest cavity and abdomen. On the mattress below the girl, were her heart and her internal organs stacked in a neat pile. Blood soaked the threadbare carpet, and squelched under Dean’s shoes.

“Jesus Christ!” Dean said, backing out quickly.

A single, yellow post-it note drifted down and sat on the carpet. Pam looked at it numbly. On it was a smiley face drawn with a ballpoint pen. She would have recognized that anywhere. It was a cheerful little sketch that looked at her every time Jim gave her a stack of papers to photocopy. Blood began to soak through the bright yellow of the tiny slip of paper.

The girl on the ceiling. She had long, curly brown hair, and large eyes that were half-closed. Her mouth hung slack. She had been conscious, Pam realized, as Jim’s hands pulled her apart. She was also dead because…

“Oh God,” she whimpered, trying to pull away. “She looks like…she looks like…”

“Get her back to the car.” Dean said harshly, although Sam was already guiding her footsteps backwards, coaxing her to tear her eyes away from the hideous tableau.

***

Sitting sideways in the passenger seat, her feet still planted on the gravel of the motel’s parking lot, Pam hunched forward, not even bothering to hide her shaking.

“It’s ok. Whatever did that…it’s not your Jim.” Sam assured, one hand on her shoulder the way she had done for him earlier. She said nothing.

“But…” he hesitated. She refused to look at him.

“But you had to see it.” He ploughed on. “You have to realize, it’s not your Jim you're dealing with, no matter what you're hoping. You need to be able to face him when you find him, and deal with him...”

"Sam!" Dean said, lifting a sack from the trunk. "Grab that canister of stuff."

“Pam, we’re gonna go somewhere else soon ok? Somewhere we can rest for the night.” Sam said. "I'll be right back."

Dean and Sam scattered the contents of the sack all over the place, mostly in the room Pam thought of as a charnel house. Salt, she figured. The smell of kerosene followed.

"Let me burn it." she said unexpectedly.

“Ok.” Dean said, after a beat, and then added. “I’m sorry.”

Pam stumbled to her feet, taking the proffered matches from Dean's hand. Slowly, she walked over to room 108, and looked through the still open door. Deliberately, she struck a match, and threw it in, making sure she was looking into the vacant eyes of the girl still hanging from the ceiling. Flames immediately began to spread, consuming everything. She felt Dean put his arm around her, pulling her back towards the car.

Two minutes later, the motel was hidden by a bend in the road as the Impala sped away, but still, she could feel it there, like a burning wound on the back of her throat.

***

It was surreal, sitting in a diner, looking at a laminated menu as if nothing had happened. As if she were a college student on a road trip with two of her bestest guy buddies.

“It says here, their milkshakes are apparently the best in New York State.” Dean said, studiously keeping his eyes on the menu in his hands. Sam frowned as he observed Pam.

“And what’s better than a milkshake on a hot summer night, huh?” Dean asked jovially. He reconsidered. “Well, there’s a cold beer, and a hot woman…”

“Dean, shut up.” Sam hissed.

“No, its ok.” Pam said, shaking her head and looking up. “I’m ok. Don’t…don’t worry about me.”

“That’s my girl.” Dean said, reaching over, rubbing her back encouragingly. To her credit, she didn’t flinch.

“I just…let’s just order ok?”

No sooner had she said this, when her phone began to vibrate. She looked at the caller ID warily. A 212 area code – New York City. It wasn’t a number she recognized, but it could have been anyone of her old schoolmates calling, concerned from the news. She answered it.

“Hey babe.”

Pam stopped breathing. Dean and Sam, who had gone back to being engrossed in their menus, noticed her reaction and immediately sat up.

“Did you get my memo?” he chuckled warmly.

“Where the fuck have you taken Jim?” she asked.

“Language Beesly. You kiss your Mother with that mouth?” the thing asked in Jim’s voice.

“Fuck you.” She spat.

“Been there.” The voice continued. “And, if I recall, you really, really liked it too.”

“Stop it…”

“Anyway, I’m in New York City, as you’ve probably guessed. Paying a visit to all your friends. Like that boy who had a thing for you and wanted you to stay. You remember him right?”

“Leave them alone.” She was gripping her phone so hard, she wondered if she were going to break it.

“Can’t. Sorry.” He laughed. Her heart constricted at how much it sounded like it really was Jim on the phone. “As I was saying, your friend…he kindly…let…me use his phone to call you.”

She heard it then. It was a muffled scream in the background, and the sound of cracking bones. Jim's voice dropped an octave and her skin crawled.

“This is all because of you Pam. Or haven’t you figured that out yet?”

The line went dead. With a loud clatter, her cell phone fell out of nerveless fingers, skidding across the small dining table.

“New York City.” She said at last. “He’s in New York City.”

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

My Fic: Oh The Places You'll Go (The Office/SPN Crossover) 1/?

Wed, 14 Oct 2009 03:30:49 GMT

Title: Oh The Places You'll Go (1/?)
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms: The Office/Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Jim/Pam for now
Warnings: Spoilers for The Office up to end Season 5, and Supernatural end Season 4.
Crack fic, and also, not exactly fluffy.
Summary: In which Jim is possessed by a demon, Pam's world is utterly disrupted, Angela's a fallen angel and oh, Dean and Sam show up as the most poorly named FBI agents ever.

Chapter 1

Pam couldn’t be happier if she tried.

Life was just perfect, she thought as she stretched her arms out behind her. It was Friday evening, five past five, the eve of a long weekend. Her boyfriend, no fiancé and the father-to-be of her child sat two feet away at his desk. His hair was adorably rumpled, lending him that boyish air she had always, always loved. The two of them seemed to be alone in the office; even the omnipresent documentary camera crew had retired for the weekend.

These past two days, they had been trading furtive, excited smiles at each other, the only two in the world knowing the wonderful secret residing low in her belly. She still couldn’t believe it. She was going to be a wife and a mother.

Sighing in contentment, Pam pressed ‘Ctrl’, ‘Alt’ and 'Delete' on her keyboard, locking her computer for the night. She looked up, to find Jim staring at her, a goofy grin on his face.

“Hey beautiful,” He said.

“Hey yourself.” She blushed.

“Look at you…glowing.” Jim sounded admiring.

“Look at me hungry,” she replied, rousing herself and gathering her things. She locked her drawers and stood up, looking around trying to figure out if she was leaving anything behind. “This pregnant thing is worse than getting the munchies. Not that I’ve ever…you know…”

She stopped short, suddenly finding herself pressed up against Jim’s chest.

“Do you know how often I fantasized about getting you alone in the office?” he murmured, bending low enough to brush his lips against her right ear.

“Jim!” she squealed.

“No, seriously. C’mon. Take a guess.” He began to edge her towards the glass wall of Michael’s office behind her.

“Jim, c’mon, I don’t want to play right now,” she giggled, pushing him away.

“What about you?” he ignored her request, his hands pressing into her hips. “Did you ever think about it? Me bending you over that reception desk and fucking you so hard you couldn’t walk?”

Pam frowned, trying to draw away to look at her fiance’s expression. What was he playing at? She didn’t hear the door to the pantry softly opening and shutting.

“Because I’m pretty sure you did.” Jim continued, his grip on her body suddenly feeling less tender, more vice-like. His tone however, remained chillingly casual. “I know a slut when I see one.”

“Wh…what?” Pam stuttered.

“I’m just thinking, that I’ve made a mistake. I mean, you obviously spread your legs for any guy that looks at you…do I really want to be tied down to that?” her fiance said.

“Why are you saying this?” Pam asked, too shocked to feel anything else.

She didn’t have time for horror or panic either, as he backhanded her across the face. Hard. She slammed backwards.

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

The blow must have stunned her, she thought dazedly, looking at the man in front of her. Jim’s eyes were completely black.

“Talk talk talk. That’s all you ever do.” He sounded mildly annoyed. One hand remained wrapped around her waist. The other snuck up her body, brushing over her breasts in a painfully familiar manner. Pam couldn’t speak. She didn’t know it was possible to be this frightened of a man she had thought for sure, she knew. His fingers curled around her throat. "How the hell did Roy put up with this shit?"

“Let her go.”

Pam began to choke. Her fingers clawed uselessly at the hand he had wrapped around her windpipe. As if from a great distance, she could hear Jim ask, “Angela?”

Suddenly, his grip on her loosened as he howled in pain. There was a sizzling sound. She stumbled backwards, watching the man she loved bending over in agony, his head drenched. Angela stood before him, holding a dripping metal flask.

“Pam, get out!” Angela shouted at her.

She hesitated for a split second, but it was enough for Jim to spin around, lips drawn back in an horrifying snarl. He picked her up once again by her neck, like she was no heavier than a kitten, and threw her through the glass wall, shattering it in a loud crash. Her head struck the corner of Michael’s desk, and she knew no more.

***

The insistently throbbing pain dragged her out of the oblivion she had been floating in. Blinking, Pam looked around and found herself strapped to the front seat of Angela’s car.

“How are you feeling?” Angela asked, her voice stiff but unable to mask her concern.

“Like someone just ran my head through a lawnmower.” Pam wheezed. She remembered. “Where’s Jim?”

“We need to get you to a hospital.” The blonde woman beside her said.

“Angela, where’s Jim?” Pam persisted, her voice growing stronger. She couldn’t be sure what she wanted the answer to be. On one hand, every instinct was telling her to run, on the other…

“I don’t know how to explain this to you…” Angela sighed.

“Explain? Explain what?” the younger woman demanded.

“Look. Let’s get you checked out first.”

She wanted to argue, but the accountant flashed her a look that compelled Pam to remain silent.

***

She didn’t need stitches, thankfully, and the baby appeared to be fine despite the trauma her body had just undergone. The nurses looked suspiciously at her cuts and the bruises that lined her neck like a macabre tattoo, but she insisted that it was merely a fall that had done the damage. They didn’t seem to believe her, but they didn’t probe.

At the back of her mind, she wondered when she became the sort of woman to defend an abusive boyfriend. But. She kept flashing back to his black eyes. Something wasn’t adding up.

Outside the waiting room, Angela waited for her, flipping through a magazine. She could see, walking up, that the blonde’s knuckles were white with tension.

“Now. Now you tell me what the fuck is going on,” Pam said, standing in front of the accountant. Neither of them batted an eye at her use of foul language.

***

“So what you’re saying is, Jim is…possessed.” She tried desperately to keep her hands from shaking. “That’s crazy.”

The two women were sitting in a roadside diner, the kind frequented mostly by truckers.

"Can you find another explanation?” Angela asked, sipping her herbal tea calmly. “Didn’t you see the way holy water affected him? Didn’t you see his eyes?”

Pam considered her options. She stifled a hysterical laugh. Instead, she asked, “Do you know where he’s gone?”

“No,” Angela shook her head.

“We need to find him.” Pam said firmly.

“You can’t. He’s too strong. He’ll kill you.” The blonde woman shook her head.

“If he’s possessed, doesn’t it mean that he’s still in there somewhere?” Pam demanded. “That I can help him?”

“You don’t even know how to help him!” Angela lowered her voice.

“But you do!”

It was more of a plea than a statement. Pam looked desperately at Angela. This was Jim. This was her life. The other woman breathed deeply and sank backwards into her chair.

***

They drove home (home, where Jim and her had left that morning, still happy, still living their perfect dream) to find squad cars parked in front of the house, red and blue lights flashing garishly in the summer night. Neighbours peered out at the sight, looking in turns, worried and disgruntled. Pam held her head high as she stepped out of Angela’s car, and approached her wide-open front door as if there were nothing out of the ordinary. As if men in uniform were not swarming her yard, peering carefully through her windows, her carefully selected drapes, guns held in such a way that she had no doubt, were ready to be fired at a second’s notice. She could see several officers running through her home, and idly wondered how much work it was going to take to scrub away the black shoe marks they were going to leave on the carpet.

A man in a dark suit stepped close to her.

“You’re a hard woman to find Ms. Beesly.” He said grimly. He stuck his hand out. “Detective McHale.”

“I didn’t know you were looking.” Pam replied, trying to appear as smooth as unruffled as she could be, which was more than a slight trial, considering the things Angela had been telling her that night. The world she believed in, apparently, didn’t exist and never did. She ignored his proffered hand, and after a moment, he dropped it. “I was at the hospital.”

“I think you know why we’re here.” The steel in his voice belied his courtesy. “We received reports at 1725 Slough Street of a disturbance at about 5pm this evening, from the security guard on duty. When we got there, we found massive damage in the Dunder Mifflin office, and a very interesting security tape.”

She sucked in a breath. Under the bizarre circumstances she had found crashing down around her, she had not even considered the mundane issues that were bound to creep up.

“I’ve seen the tape Ms. Beesly.” The detective’s voice softened. He looked at her in such a manner as to convey his deep sympathy. “I don’t think you should be trying to protect him after what he did to you.”

Pam wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Do you know where Jim Halpert might be?” he pressed on.

“No.” she couldn’t help but feel relieved that the police didn’t know either.

“Excuse me, but is Pam under suspicion, or in any kind of trouble?” Angela asked, coming up behind her. For the first time in her life, Pam was extremely grateful for the other woman’s presence.

“No, of course not…”

“In that case, I think you and your men need to leave. If you know what happened, then you must realize that Ms. Beesly has gone through a traumatizing experience tonight. Given her fragile state of mind, and the fact that she’s pregnant…” Pam didn’t bother to ask how Angela knew, and just accepted it. “She needs a good nights’ rest. You can speak with her tomorrow.”

Detective McHale had the grace to look abashed. He dug around his pockets and fished out his business card, handing it to Pam.

“We’ll be in touch. Take care. If you know anything, if he tries to contact you…”

“Yeah ok. I know.” The young woman suddenly felt extremely exhausted, and close to collapse.

He backed away apologetically. An officer gave him the all-clear signal. Within two minutes, all squad cars were cleared from the lawn, although a small black Saturn she didn’t recognize remained parked across the street. Too tired to confront the fact that her house was now under all-night surveillance, she entered her home, Angela following close behind. The front door, although splintered on one side from where it had been kicked in by the police, managed to close. She turned around to find Angela holding a box of salt in her hands. The blonde accountant didn’t explain herself as she began to pour a thin, unbroken line of salt across the doorway.

“If you have more of this stuff somewhere, you might want to do the same,” Angela said without looking up. “Make sure the line is unbroken.”

“I don’t understand.” Pam really didn’t.

“Salt has always been a symbol of purity. Didn’t you ever pick up a Bible?” the older woman asked sharply. Ah, Pam thought. This was more familiar ground. “It’ll keep demons out.”

It took a moment for her words to sink in.

Jim. Angela meant Jim, Pam realized heartbrokenly, fighting the urge to vomit.

***

“There’s a spell I know we can use to locate Jim.” Angela said, after Pam returned, having lined every windowsill and the back door with whatever salt she could find in her pantry. “I’ll need something that belongs to him. Something he uses often.”

“What do we do when we find him?” Pam asked, hesitating.

“You perform an exorcism.”

“And you know how to do this?” the former receptionist turned saleswoman asked, frowning.

“It’s…been a long time, but I think I can teach you,” The older woman said carefully, sitting herself down on a couch.

“Who are you?” Pam asked, unmoving from her spot. Her eyes were narrowed as she studied the other woman, realizing for the first time, how little she knew of Angela. Since she met her, all she knew was that the blonde woman was self-righteously annoying, and had an unnatural affinity for cats.

“You know who I am.” The accountant shifted uncomfortably.

“No, I really don’t think I do.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“My fiancé attacked me this evening because apparently, he’s been possessed by a demon from hell. He’s wanted by the police, and there’s salt lining every possible entrance to my home to keep him out,” Pam recited. “Try me.”

“I’m an angel.” Angela said.

Pam blinked.

“Oh.” She replied.

“Ok, not an angel anymore. I fell.”

“Like Lucifer?” the pregnant woman’s eyes widened.

“No. Yes. Sort of. You know how it is, you hang out with the wrong crowd, you attend the wrong events, other people start getting ideas about your loyalties and next thing you know, you’re crashing down to earth…” Angela looked…embarrassed? “I certainly wasn’t one of those who decided it was a good idea to rise up against God and his love of your kind. Humans, that is.”

The younger woman contemplated her response.

“You’re…absolutely serious.” She said at last.

“Yes.”

“You’re an angel. A fallen angel.”

“Yes.”

“Huh.” Pam couldn’t help but reflect that this nifty little fact explained everything about her co-worker's oddly pious behaviour. Shrugging, she went in search of something personal that belonged to Jim.

***

If she tried really, really hard, she could pretend that Jim was downstairs, puttering about the kitchen, getting their cereal ready. The soreness of her throat where he had held her in a chokehold however, told her otherwise.

The young woman pushed her covers back and sat up, wishing she could fool herself into believing that everything which had transpired the night before was just a terrible nightmare, a product of indigestion perhaps.

“Pam!” Angela’s voice shouted. “You need to see this.”

Sighing, she stood up and shuffled out of the room. The television in the living room was blaring; she arrived in time to see a photo of Jim’s smiling face displayed on the screen.

“…manhunt for Jim Halpert is underway. He was sighted last night in the company of twenty-three year old Marie Sanderson at Poor Richards, a local bar. The body of Ms. Sanderson was found this morning under an overpass. Jim Halpert, former employee of paper supplier Dunder Mifflin, is also wanted for the assault on his fiancé Ms. Pamela Beesly. Police caution that the suspect should be considered dangerous. If sighted, authorities should be notified immediately. No contact should be attempted. In sports news…”

Pam noted two things. One was that Jim was already considered fired. Two, was that the photo they were using on the news was taken from his employee file. It was six-years-old, and possibly the most unflattering photograph she had ever seen of Jim.

“Even if you got Jim back, there are going to be…repercussions.” Angela stated in an uncharacteristically gentle voice.

“I don’t care.” Pam said, looking the other woman in the eye. “I’m going to get him back one way or another. We’ll deal with the other stuff later.”

A knock came from the door. Angela looked at the pregnant woman expectantly.

“Ms. Beesly? It’s the FBI.” A man’s voice called.

Biting back another wave of nausea, the brunette walked over and opened the door, finding herself face to face with two young men in ill-fitting suits, flashing their FBI ID at her quickly.

“I’m Special Agent Cooper. This is Agent Bryson.” the man standing in front introduced with a bright smile.

“Can we come in?” the taller man asked politely, tucking his ID away into his jacket.

“Do I have a choice?” Pam asked.

“I’m afraid if you don’t, you can be charged in the obstruction of an investigation and…” the other one started.

“Ok, ok.” She stepped aside. The black Saturn across the street was gone, she saw, but it had been replaced with an older looking black car.

She couldn’t help but notice as the one called Agent Cooper stepped carefully over the unbroken salt line, casting Agent Bryson an indecipherable look as he did so.

“Uh…we just have a couple of questions about…”

“Where my fiance is?” Pam lead them to the living room. She wondered what the quickest way to get rid of them was. They hadn’t performed the locating spell, not yet. Angela had insisted that she get some rest before they attempted anything. She still wasn’t even sure that she wasn’t simply going crazy.

As the small group stepped into the living room, Angela shot out of her seat, eyes burning into the young men behind her.

“We’re FBI.” Agent Bryson held one hand up in a conciliatory manner, the other reaching into his pocket to draw out his ID again. Angela said nothing. Instead, she backed up close to the fireplace. Her hands groped around her, until she found an iron poker.

“Actually, we wanted to ask you if you’ve been noticing anything strange about his behaviour before he attacked you,” Agent Cooper continued, eyeing the blonde woman carefully. “But I’m assuming you have an idea what we’re really asking,”

“Pam, get away from them.” Angela brandished the poker.

“Please, we’re just trying to help.” Agent Bryson said in a placating manner, stepping forward.

“You reek of demon.” The other woman growled. Pam gasped and ducked behind Angela.

Agent Cooper rolled his eyes. Something clicked in Pam’s mind.

“Oh my God. Agent Cooper and Bryson!” she exclaimed. “Twin Peaks!”

“Way to go on the names.” The taller one muttered.

“Dude, that was totally not what gave us away.” The other said sharply and pointedly. Pam might have been mistaken, but she could have sworn that the one calling himself ‘Bryson’ looked distinctly guilty.

“Look, it’s all a big misunderstanding. I drank some demon blood a while ago, and I guess it’s not out of my system, and anyway, how the hell did you know?” ‘Agent Bryson’ asked, drawing a weapon from his holster.

“He’s got a point sister. You better start talking.” ‘Agent Cooper’ had his own gun trained on Angela.

Pam swallowed and blurted out, “She’s an angel.”

“That doesn’t help your case.” The shorter man said. “Ma’am, Ms. Beesly, you have to believe we’re here to help. Her, on the other hand…”

Angela lowered her poker, staring hard at the two men, who continued to point their guns at her.

“Who are you?” she asked at last.

“Is it any of your business?” one of them asked harshly.

Enough was enough, Pam thought, and stepped between the two men and the self-professed fallen angel.

“Everybody just shut up. I’m trying to find out where my fiancé is, so I can help him,” she gritted out. “If you’re not here to give me a hand trying to get rid of the demon wearing his body, I’d appreciate if you get the hell out of my home.”

There was a pregnant pause as the ‘FBI agents’ seemed to hold an internal, silent debate.

“Well.” ‘Agent Cooper’ broke into a sudden grin devoid of all humour. He relaxed his pose, lowering his gun. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

Chapter 2

Doctor Who Recs

Tue, 22 Sep 2009 02:47:02 GMT

A Sort of Man by Kate Andrews

"What he's stuck with and no, he's not so sad about this, what he's stuck with is this. He loves her. He is born fully formed into this universe with his love for this woman already snug around his neck. Like a noose." The 10th Doctor doesn't know how much that love is going to cost him yet. And he's already died for her once. 10/Rose

Give and Take by Kate Andrews

No ship is good unless it produces some good tasteful sex scenes. This is tasteful, kinda hot, sexy times. And Jesus, so poignant. One of the reasons I adore this ship, even if Rose can be kind of annoying at times. 10/Rose

Today's Not Over Yet by Camilla Sandman

The 8th Doctor, avoiding his destiny. Its painful to watch it chase him down.

What the Doctor Forgot by Camilla Sandman

Threesome between 9/10/Rose. Yeah. 9 can be bread, I'll be butter and 10 can be peanut...this fic is going to be closest I'll EVER get to that. What? I have hormones. Geeky hormones.

The Parting Glass by kitsunealyc

At the end of the battle, Hermione loses everything except her time turner. 9 inevitably gets involved, as these things go.

Buffy fic recs...there'll be more, believe me

Sun, 20 Sep 2009 11:51:45 GMT

Poggra-mengri (a breaking thing) by cadhia

Giles centred. Focuses on a grief he's never fully addressed, a relationship that never managed to get where it should have, and the woman whose life he never got to discover. Its quite heartbreaking without slipping into angst... Features a fantastic talking horse. Its so well written it makes me shiver. All that could have been...

Band Candy by Twinkledru J.

Giles/Cordelia. Repression, lust and some inhibition reducing drugs...its kinda very hot, especially since the story features sexy(!) Ripper and Giles.

The Last Summer by Annie Sewell-Jennings

You can't talk about this fic without referring to On The Beach (film starring Gregory Peck and Ava Gardner). It was brilliantly made for its time, with fantastic cinematography and acting. Extremely creepy film based on the idea that a nuclear holocaust has taken place. When you consider that everyone you see in the film are literally the only people left alive on the entire planet, and they're all just waiting for the radioactive particles(certain death) to catch up to them in Australia, every last nuance that takes place is terrifying. They can only eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow...

This fic basically poses the idea that Buffy receives a vision of what is to come, but she realizes that a catastrophe like this is out of her hands to stop. No one believes her, so instead, she escapes for a temporary reprieve from death to Australia without the Scooby Gang. Everyone dies, of course. Humans go, then its the vampires' turn right after, as they've run out of their basic food source. Spike, running from the same spectre of doom while he can, finds a slayer whose lost all reason for survival. Its a beautiful story of two powerful creatures, realizing their own mortality, coming to terms with the loss of their world that took place in more ways than one. It even addresses the culpability of America in the nuclear arms race. Its a great piece of fanfiction for well, fanfiction. Buffy/Spike - again, pairing so not the point.

I discovered this fic when I was 13. I'm now 25, and still find it one of my favourite online reads.

Her Beauty and Her Terror by ijemanja

Did anyone else realize Mercedes McNab who plays Harmony was also on The Addams Family movie as the blonde girl tormenting Wednesday? Anyway...Harmony meets Wolfram and Hart's newest associate, Wednesday. Its...so cute. Harmony/Wednesday, Ats/Addams Family Movie

Supernatural Fic Rec

Sun, 20 Sep 2009 03:22:18 GMT

Secure the Blessing by rahmi

In the face of Dean's impending doom, Sam makes a wish that Mary never died, on condition that he will have nothing to do with demons, hunting, and most of all, the Winchestors.

Of course, Dean catches wind of this, and tries to find Sammy across time and America.

An interesting look at a non-hunter John, Dean and Sam as adults in children's bodies, and as big brothers to a little sister.

Crossover Fic

Sun, 20 Sep 2009 00:22:30 GMT

Migratory Birds by nekare

A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, but life will persist in going on...X-Men/Supernatural.

Now Selfless Power by voleuse

The Doctor and River Tam. 'nuff said. Doctor Who/Firefly

Tangle and Sprawl by voleuse

Two wars, three survivors, if you can call them that. Doctor Who/Firefly

X-Men fic recs

Sun, 20 Sep 2009 00:16:12 GMT

The Best Laid Plans by Victoria P.

Logan/Rogue, Scott/Jean, Scott/Rogue. This fic is epic in terms of awesomeness, and also because it's been recced a billion times. I'm just doing my bit.

The Best Laid Plans Remix: The Art of War by Ransom

Logan/Rogue, Scott/Jean, Scott/Rogue. Same fic, Logan's POV. Voice is fantastic!

Complications by Victoria P.

Logan/Rogue. Logan's a fuckwit idiot until he realizes what he can lose...

Not Ever by Heath07

Scott/Rogue. They're so trapped in their own pain.

Worth Waiting by MollyTM

Logan/Rogue, Bobby/Rogue. Its deeply ridiculous, but fantastic teenage angst. Logan wants Rogue, but won't do a damn thing about it. Its kind of fuckwitty, but still a good read.

Repair by penknife

Scott/Jean, Professor Xavier. The little things that could destroy our lives, that we never talk about.

Reunion Season by jjtaylor

Charles/Eric, Scott/Jean. There's a reason why Charles/Eric is my OTP. It's such a beautiful story, about a love that never goes away even under their differences.

Firefly Fic Recs

Sat, 19 Sep 2009 20:20:27 GMT

Mal/River Shipper Manifesto by srichard

This is not a fic. It's just a compelling study on their relationship. Which as far as I'm concerned, is as canon as it can get.

The Chinese Symbol for War by _mebh_

Mal/River pairing. Lovely portrayal of them falling for each other, River dealing with the guilt of Wash's death...

Teach Me To Hear the Mermaids Singing by Victoria P

Mal/River. Focuses on a blossoming River

Tending to Grace

Simon/River. Usually, incest is squicky for me, but this fic was a great way of showing how the constant running has sufficiently fucked with Simon's mind, to a point where his previous personality completely melts away. Its surreal in its pastoral calm, considering...

The Observer Effect by Victoria P

Mal/River. By Victoria P, who is just fantastic. Its almost companion to the fic above, 'Teach Me To Hear..."...Mal finds his own heart coming alive again.

Where the heavens are shallow
as the sea is now deep by Victoria P

Mal/River. Features a human(!) Inara, with human(!) feelings, realizing that she's lost Mal. She's very sympathetic here, rather than manipulative babe type personality.

Whiskey and Wry by Victoria P

Mal/River. Falling into each other.

Writ in Burnished Rows of Steel by jedibuttercup

Mal/River, but the pairing is so not the point. The Alliance did not destroy the pax. This is how the revolution ends, this is the victory.

Lessons by frannie

Mal/River. He can't ignore that she's growing up, and he can't admit it.