Categories > TV > Supernatural > Comes Knocking

Chapter 3

by Pearsforgranite 0 reviews

When the supernatural begins wreaking havoc in New York, the Avengers find themselves at a loss of what exactly they’re up against. Saved by 2 brothers with guns and a knife, the Avengers open th...

Category: Supernatural - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Crossover - Warnings: [!!!] [?] - Published: 2017-07-17 - 3163 words

A/N:[*SPN and MCU timelines:
SPN is after Season 11, but, for this fic, Mary didn’t return.
MCU is after Civil War, but, for this fic, everyone kumbaya’d and are now copacetic.


The law enforcement that Sam and Dean had anticipated remained strangely absent as they stood under the silent scrutiny of the Avengers, each of whom were working through Dean’s casual revelation of a hoboic God. Sirens could be heard several blocks away, but it was clear they weren’t moving any closer. Wanting to capitalize on the moment before the masses converged on their little group, Dean, firmly mid-fangasm, was hoping he could get away with a group picture. Or maybe they’d all sign his arm? Did the Black Widow give out hugs??

Unlike Dean, Sam had no delusions of Avenger autographs and made to end the interaction before they couldn’t get away cleanly. “This has been amazing, really, truly an honor meeting you, but we should be going. You’re all probably super busy (he didn’t hear Clint’s muttering of “Dog Cops”) and we’ve got places to be, rooftop pizza to retrieve, you know how it is.” He grabbed Dean’s arm and began backing away, looking for their best exit strategy.

“But...” Dean looked from Sam to the Avengers with longing.

Sam, seeing his brother’s inner fan was about to spin out of control, burst his bubble immediately.
“No, Dean.” As Dean’s face fell, Sam compromised, “We’ll get you a signed Captain America bobble-head off e-bay or something, ok?”

Not to be haggled down, Dean shook off Sam’s hand and, his brain high on fan-dorphins, slowly opened his arms as he took a meek step forward, eyeing Natasha Romanoff with hope.

Bewildered glances were exchanged between Natasha and the rest of her team at his tentative approach. Not one to suffer fools, Natasha gave Dean an icy look which made him shrink into himself from rejection and ruthlessly parroted Sam’s words, “No, Dean.”

“Harsh, Nat.” Clint couldn’t help but cringe in second-hand embarrassment for the dude approaching his teammate looking for a very ill-advised hug, “Harsh.”

Trying to get the situation back on track (the events had taken a very strange turn), Bruce turned to the taller of the two, “So if he’s Dean, then you are?”

Before Sam could whip out a classic rock alias, a new voice answered from the left of the group, “Sam Winchester.” Turning, Sam and Dean blanched at the balding suit that had approached the group without them noticing. “Brother of one Dean Winchester.”

“Agent!” Tony greeted in surprise at Coulson’s stealthy appearance, which managed to startle even Clint and Natasha. “We need to get you a bell. How long have you been lurking over there?”

Ignoring Tony, Phil Coulson addressed the two brothers, “We are going to need you to come with us.”

“Who the hell is ‘us’?” Dean’s question dripped with belligerence.

“Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.”

Looking like he was attempting advanced quadratic equations, Dean struggled to untangle the spew of words while Sam understood immediately, “SHIELD?!”

Dean stared at the agent in horror, finally noticing the black SUV creeping around the corner, presumably to cart them away never to be seen or heard from again. In summation of their current situation, both Winchesters let out an emphatic, “Balls.”


“At least no handcuffs”, Dean jazzed his free hands, attempting to ‘glass half-full’ the situation for Sam as they were marched into a large, empty conference room.

Sam scoffed, “Yeah, because we’re surrounded by how many super soldiers and spies? Each of them could probably take us out in seconds with their hands tied behind their backs. Handcuffs are ridiculously moot.”

Accompanied by 10 agents, all carrying semi-automatic weapons and a plethora of hidden deadly gadgets, Sam and Dean knew they had stepped in it.

Back on the street, surrounded by SHIELD, the Avengers, and hundreds of iPhoning civilians, the brothers hadn’t had any real choice but to get into the SUV and go wherever SHIELD wanted to take them. Dean had at least been hoping that he’d get to ride with one or two Avengers, but they had all piled into another vehicle. He and Sam had been sandwiched between 6 agents, all of whom were silent as they had their weapons out, ready for whatever potential threat Sam and Dean posed.


“Anyone want to tell me what the hell happened that 2 supposedly dead men were able to take down an assailant that proved too daunting for the combined force of 6 of you?” Nicholas Fury’s one eye made sure to linger intimidatingly on each Avenger as he menaced over them from the head of the table.

Tony raised his hand and piped up, “To be fair, Cap slept through the entire thing and Hulk cut class.” Leaning over, he addressed Bruce seated two chairs down, “What gives, B? Too cool for school?”

“It wasn’t a Code Green.” Bruce gave Tony a stink-eye as he defended himself. “Yes, he gave Cap a run for his money for his ability to “do this all day”, but he wasn’t actually hurting anyone. Aside from taking Steve out, he didn’t make a move against any of us; he just stood there taking the hits. Smashing seemed a bit unnecessary.”

“And I did not sleep through the entire thing!” An indignant Steve spoke up. “He didn’t just hit me. It was like he did something else to force me under - a spell maybe?” Looking around at his teammates, his voice turned grave, “I’ve never experienced anything like that before. Nothing has been able to knock me out flat for so long - no weapon or drug that I’ve encountered.” He shuddered in remembrance, “I...I think those two may have been on to something.”

“What? About demons?” Tony scoffed across the table at him and caustically added, “If Heaven and Hell and God exist, then I’ll eat my 1859, first edition ‘On the Origin of Species’ during Sunday Mass.”

Wanting to get to the bottom of the situation before the meeting devolved into it’s normal squabble, Fury looked to Natasha for an unskewed account.

“After he took out Steve, each of us launched a full scale attack.” She looked around at her tired teammates in sympathy, “We gave all we had. I used every single one of my bites and my bullets. They all hit, alongside everyone else’s, and he just shook it off, laughing the entire time like we were some great joke. He called us vermin and, in terms of a power comparison, he wasn’t wrong. If I had to guess, it was a reconnaissance mission to gauge our resources and power level, all of which he found underwhelming.”

Fury pushed, “Approximation of classification?”

Natasha opened her mouth to respond, only to close it when she realized she didn’t have an answer; she actually had no clue what to say.

“I believe it.” The three words were uttered with a solemnity that was at odds with Clint’s normal demeanor. No one said a word as he continued in a hollow voice, “There was an incident when I was in the circus - I saw....something...that I never understood. After what we witnessed today it makes a lot more sense.” In a lighter tone he amended, “Well, in the way that any of this shit could possibly make sense.”

“What did you see?” Tony prodded, his curiosity trumping his sensitivity.

Clint just shook his head, unwilling to discuss it any further. Whatever had happened, the impact was deep enough that Clint was still clearly unsettled over 30 years later.

Nick Fury was one stoic motherfucker. To survive as long as he had in this business, one had to be unshakeable and, as cliched as it was, expect the unexpected. One also had to learn quickly from mistakes. He could admit that he had grown comfortable; optimistically believing that the combined efforts of Shield and the Avengers could defeat any threat. Finding that a solitary, innocuous-looking humanoid could so easily make a mockery of his team, churned his gut uneasily.
Fortunately, one also had to know how and when to collect allies instead of enemies.

Turning to Coulson he asked, “What do we know about the two day-savers currently stewing in Conference Room D?”


“Hey, asshole! In the black with the gun - I want my damn phone call!” Dean’s aggressive and annoying demand of his rights went unheeded.

“They’re all in black with guns.” Sam was slumped in the chair across from Dean, elbow on the table, and hand propping up his head, which he shook in response to Dean’s illogical logic:

“I’m casting my net wide in hopes I’ll get one of them to answer.”

After marching the Winchesters into the room, the 10 agents had proceeded to line the perimeter and silently monitor the situation with guns on prominent display. Chaffing under all the eyes, Dean had proceeded to badger every last one of them. He was about to start again from the top, but was interrupted by the door opening (the harassed agents all let out a quick breath of relief for the respite).

Sam and Dean didn’t think it was possible, but the guards stood to even more attention when they saw it was the balding suit entering. Everything about the man was generic and nondescript. From the top of his head to the sole of his shiny, but not too shiny, sensible shoes - the man mastered the art of mild and forgettable. If it wasn’t for his discreet aura of power warning the brothers that he wasn’t one to be messed with or underestimated, Dean would’ve continued badgering every non-Sam entity in sight.

“Good day, gentlemen. My name is Agent Coulson. If you would please come with me, Director Fury would like to make your acquaintance.”

Though they had no idea who this twice-occurring secret agent man was, they sure as shit recognized the name Director Fury. Severely outmatched, Sam and Dean had no choice but to stand up and follow a blandly smiling Agent Coulson out of the room.

Traveling once again with an armed escort, the two Winchesters trailed behind Agent Coulson as he led them through a series of winding hallways. Arriving at a set of plain double doors, the Agent dismissed the guards. Opening the doors, he ushered them in, “After you, please.”

Stepping over the threshold was akin to stepping out of their lives and into an alternate universe.

Despite everything he’d seen and done, standing once again in front of the collection of infamous faces was surreal to Sam. He wasn’t one for fanaticism (Dean was plenty of that for the both of them), but he couldn’t help the surge of excitement that raced though his veins as he faced so many bonafide superheroes. If Sam was excited, he knew Dean must’ve been plotzing. Looking over at his brother, he was slightly embarrassed to be related to the wide-eyed, semi-hyperventilating Dean.

“Dude, chill.” Sam tried to discreetly whisper out the side of his mouth.

“Hey, Blue Steel!” Clint gave an enthusiastic thumbs up towards Dean in greeting (he could appreciate a quality Blue Steel when he saw one).

Before each Avenger was an open folder, thick with information on everything Winchester. They all saw the exact moment Dean registered the folders, as he underwent a rapid shift from Superfan 99 to the deadly threat featured in the pages before them.

No longer idols, but potential enemies, Dean locked eyes with Director Fury and demanded his and Sam’s release.

“You have two options: you either let us walk out of here peacefully or we’ll fight our way out. You saw what we did to that demon. Your group was powerless. Easy or hard, either way, we’re leaving.” Dean was serious - if it came down to attacking Captain America to escape, then so be it. He’d call Cas if he had to.

Also, a bit miffed that this was the thanks he and Sam got for saving the day, he continued, “You know, from where I’m standing, we saved all your asses. You should be thanking us instead of detaining us like criminals.”

The charged beat of silence as Fury and Dean stared each other down, was dispersed by Tony.

“Aren’t you the Queen of Drama.” he remarked. “Why doesn’t her Highness just sit down and have a drink. Water? Tea? Coffee? (I’m thinking decaf for you)”

“Uh, we’re good. Thanks.” Sam took a seat and shrugged at Dean’s betrayed look. “Just sit down, Dean, and let’s listen to what’s going on and what they have to say.”

Wind officially out of his sails, Dean huffed down into the chair beside Sam at the end of the table. In front of each Winchester, Coulson placed a copy of the folder the Avengers had all read. Upon opening, the brother’s were met with two mug shots: Dean’s prized Blue Steel and a very petulant, puppy-eyed Sam. Before they could peruse the contents further, Director Fury addressed them.

“We seem to be getting off on the wrong foot. You are not here under duress. You are here because it seems that we are at a distinct disadvantage and need your help. This is what I know: today my team was laughably outmatched by something never before seen and then two flannel-flocked civilians swoop in out of nowhere and take it out in a handful of minutes. After rambling off something about God and demons you actually expect us to just say, ‘Ok. Have a nice day!’” Fury shook his head. “That’s not how this works.”

“Director Fury’s right.” Captain America supported. “We need to know what you know, how you know it, and come up with a contingency plan if demons become commonplace in the middle of Manhattan.”

“But the can’t contain a glowing review of our past achievements. You’re really not arresting us?” Dean questioned.

Fury finally took a seat, glanced at Coulson and the rest of his team, and confessed, “I don’t know what the hell is going on in this folder. According to it’s contents the both of you are apparently necrophilic Satanists with an affinity for rising from the dead.” He gave the brother’s a disturbed once over. “Please tell me that’s wrong.”

“Well, the first bit is definitely wrong.”

Ignoring that implication for the time being, Fury put the boys at ease, “We are not arresting you. We just need to know what the hell is going on; if what you’ve told my team is true. Looking into your history proves you’ve been doing something very...unique with your lives, which is a commonality of everyone in this room. We’re willing to listen.”

Sam exchanged a look with Dean and received a nod to go ahead. Taking a deep breath, Sam began the insane task of bringing the Avengers and SHIELD up to speed on the Supernatural and their lives as hunters.

Throughout the brother’s incredible and frankly life-changing explanation, Natasha could feel the colour draining from her face. She didn’t want to believe them, but having lived a life that was more lie than truth, Natasha Romanoff knew when someone was lying and these two were not.
So when they detailed Heaven and Hell and the dynamics of an afterlife, she had to clench her fists so tightly her palms bled to keep from passing out. She looked across the table to see Bucky staring at her, the same thoughts running through his head. The both of them, out of everyone here, were the most tainted. They had done some truly unspeakable things, especially Natasha. To know now that there was an actual Hell waiting for her when her life inevitably ended in a horrific fashion...her brain migrained in revolt at the very hint of further contemplation.

At least Bucky had a good excuse, if God listened to that sort of thing. His brain had been hijacked by Hydra so he wasn’t truly at fault. For just a moment she was filled with a sick sort of envy, but one look into his haunted eyes erased all traces of that sin from her system.

A crushing feeling of hopelessness settled deep into her bones. She’d been running away from her past for so long that she never once thought to run from her future. At this point she had no idea where to go or how to get there.

Edging her thoughts away from the darkness that threatened to consume her, Natasha took a deep breath and, having nothing to offer Bucky, turned her attention back to the brothers just as they finished speaking.

Aware that he and Sam had just served up a bit of a mind fuck, Dean let their audience have a moment. Taking a long pull of the beer that had been delivered 30 minutes into ‘Supernatural 101’, he took in everyone’s reaction.

Fury and Coulson had yet to so much as shift in their seat, listening stoically for the entirety. The rest of the room’s occupants were much more expressive. Unsurprisingly, the most colourful reaction belonged to Tony. Multiple times Clint and Natasha had to reach over and stop him from interrupting, no doubt on fire to scientifically disprove everything they were saying.

Bruce looked like the only thing holding him back were his manners. He was clearly bursting with the same type of questions and statements that plagued Tony.

The second most interesting person to witness was Captain America. As soon as Sam began speaking about Heaven and individual paradises, Steve’s face lit up. Eyes wide and awe-filled, he looked like the brother’s were confirming every lyric of “Jesus Loves Me” from Sunday school.

Clint somehow managed to look both mind-blown and smug all at once. Dean had no idea what was going through his head.

The reactions most relatable to both brothers were those of the Winter Soldier and Black Widow. They tried to hide it, but Sam and Dean could see the fear and horror in their eyes - when your life’s work is ending others, the sudden reality of eternity in Hell is beyond comprehension.

Beside him, Sam leaned back in his chair and stretched out his arms and legs and looked at Dean, silently asking, ‘Now what?’. As the silence in the room started growing awkward, clearly no one knew how to proceed, Dean cleared his throat and hesitantly asked,

“So...I guess, uh...questions?”
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