AN: I'm back!!
Summary: Max and Alec steal a set of books with some ghostly assistance. Not part of my other crossover stories.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. But I would like a set of the Gospel of Winchester for my birthday. I wanna read about full-frontal Dean.
The Gospel of Winchester
Max was being a bitch again, Alec decided.
"Are you sure you have the plan down, you idiot?" she groused.
Alec rolled his eyes, even though there was no way she could see it unless she had eyes in the back of her head. Which, maybe she did, considering how useful those Manticore scientists would probably have found soldiers with hindsight as well as foresight. He'd just have to risk that.
"Yes, Maxie, I do have the plan down," Alec said in a condescending tone. "Go in, take the stuff, get out, don't mess up—that last one's the really hard part." Smart, Alec, trying to piss her off in the middle of a heist. Oh well, livin' up to his name ain't exactly easy, ya know.
Max would have turned around and smacked him upside the head if they hadn't been precariously balancing on a very thin rail connected to the side of the building within which their prize lay. Prizes, actually.
A set of books published in the first decade of the century that hadn't been recognized by the mainstream but had somehow gathered a cult following over the years. Some wackos even thought that they were some sort of new religious text. This was the only complete collection in the United States aside from a rumored one in South Dakota.
Alec had no interest in reading the things—they were books after all—but what had drawn him in was the fact that there were some very rich people willing to shell over oodles of cold, hard cash for a complete set of this particular fantasy series.
He'd alerted Max to that and the fact that the present owner was a good-for-nothing scumbag and they were good to go.
And here they were, breaking into the fortress-like building through a tiny little vent way up high near the roof to get a load of books. Books. Very expensive books, but books just the same. This was a two-man job, since the entire set was over a hundred books. Yeesh. Who had the time to write out 104 books in five years? Oh right, this Carver Edlund guy. You know what Alec would have done with that kind of time? He grinned wolfishly. Oh yeah.
"What are you smiling about?"
Right, mind on the task at hand. "Your ass is in my face," Alec muttered, following her down the chute. He dropped down in a noiseless crouch at the end.
Max whirled around and shot a glare at him. If looks could kill, Alec would be dead ten times over. "Don't be like that, Maxie. It's a nice ass." The sound of flesh hitting flesh resounded though the silent building. "Ow."
They crept on silent feet through the maze of hallways to where the giant safe was located. They opened it without much trouble and went inside.
The room was filled with shelves of books on the occult and various other artifacts. A shiny black car was on display in the center. Alec found himself wondering how much he could fence it for. It was an old car, but it looked to be in mint condition. Glancing at his partner, he saw a similar calculating look of admiration on Max's face. What the hell was a sweet ride like this doing in a room on the third story of a building along with all these bizarre objects?
"Wow."
"Yeah. I second that." A beat. "This guy is weird. Good taste in cars, but weird."
"Start looking."
It took Max and Alec some time to find what they were there for. The books weren't arranged in any sort of order, and there had to be thousands of them lined up on the shelves. Alec was examining a book of "Love Spells" when Max called him over.
"Alec," she said, "I found them." They held their breaths as she reached for the first book, Woman in White, and let them out when no alarm sounded. Not that they expected one anyway—they'd done their research—but the remote possibility of—
Heavy steel-plated doors slammed shut, effectively trapping the two thieves inside.
"The hell?!"
Max rounded on Alec, long hair whipping around wildly. "You idiot! I thought you said there wasn't any alarm connected to the books."
Alec winced at the force of her accusation. "There wasn't as of two weeks ago, which is when the plans were from. Not my fault he decided to add a new security system and put the trigger on the friggin' bookshelf."
Max scowled. "Well, you should've—" She broke off, and for a very good reason indeed.
There was a sudden draft in the room, and their hair stood straight up on the back of their necks in alarm. To Alec, it felt like that one time he'd been electrocuted by the scientists back at Manticore for testing purposes. Except, of course, not as intense. Now it just felt like there was a current in the room. "Uh Max? Do you feel that?"
Whispered. "Yeah."
They both jumped when the door to the vault slid open noiselessly.
"Okay," Alec glanced at Max. "This is creepy. Isn't this creepy?"
Max felt the inclination to hiss. If she'd had a tiny bit more cat DNA, she might have. As it was, she simply nodded. "Yeah. Creepy." They were both apprehensive, since the electricity in the air still hadn't dissipated. "Come on. Let's get the books and go."
After carefully wedging the door open (a soldier never makes the same mistake twice), they each carefully stuffed 52 books into the bags they'd brought with them for that very purpose. As they slipped out of the treasure trove of supernatural items, Alec happened to glance back over his shoulder.
His eyes widened. There, in the room, were two figures, both tall men, white, muscular build. And flickering. The tall shaggy-haired one had an expression on his face as if he'd eaten a lemon. Either that or he was just really bitchy-looking. The shorter one was…grinning at him. He winked and the heavy door slammed shut.
Alec jumped. He stood there for a moment gathering his thoughts. And was it just him, or did that shorter-haired guy look like—
"Alec," Max hissed from around the corner. "Move your ass."
Alec shook his head and thanked the powers that be for their lucky break. Also, he thought, no way was he ever eating jalapeno-covered hotdogs before a heist again. Indigestion apparently caused hallucinations.
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Back in the vault, the taller ghost turned to his brother. "Dean, you just helped a couple of thieves steal those books." He gestured at the now-closed door. "The Gospel of Winchester, Dean."
Dean smirked. "Aw, Sammy, dude who owns them is a scumbag anyhow." He grimaced. "Besides, I don't like the way he fondles those things. It's just wrong."
Sam sighed. "They were thieves, Dean. Thieves are bad." He frowned when his brother laughed.
"You sound like you've never stolen anything before, and we all know you've got more experience than the Artful Dodger. Stealing ain't always bad," Dean grinned up at Sam.
Sam rolled his eyes and huffed. "One word, Dean: Bela."
Dean's face fell. "Spoil the fun, why don't cha?"
"Stop bitching."
"You're the bitch, bitch."
"Jerk."
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AN: Some math for you: 104 books comes from
22 (episodes in Season 1) + 22 (S2) + 16 (S3—darn writer's strike) + 22 (S4) + 22 (probable number of episodes for S5) = 104 episodes,
which means just as many Supernatural books. Chuck must have been a busy guy. All work and no play make Chuck a dull, dull, horny boy. ;D