Fiction- MiM03- FUBAR'd

Title: Memory In Motion

Chapter Title: FUBAR'd

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to BtVS. They belong to Whedon & Mutant Enemy. I also do not own the rights to Supernatural. They belong to Eric Kripke and The CW.

Rating: PG-15

Genre: Crossover

Type: Humor, Angst

Pairing: DaddyDean/ WeeWillow

Summary: Through a magical mix-up, Willow ends up in the Impala, disoriented, terrified, facing the barrel of a gun and somehow... only six years old.

Spoilers/ Time line: Post series for Buffy and late season one of Supernatural.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This is a challenge response to pezgirl's The Little Demon Hunting Challenge at the Twisting the Hellmouth site. Please refer to chapter one for challenge details.

Memory In Motion

Chapter Three

FUBAR'd

Sam had no sooner began typing a text reply to his brother than he heard the familiar rumble that denoted the family's Impala, outside of the motel door. Sighing to himself, he frowned down at the cell phone in his hands. If that wasn't enough, he heard Dean honking the horn impatiently. Wondering if he was needed to help bring something inside, Sam pushed out of his chair and moved to pull one drape aside for just a moment. Sure enough, there was his brother in the Impala, waiting in the parking space that they had chosen earlier, for it's closeness to their motel room door.

But there was someone with him. A small someone in the back seat. And suddenly, their earlier conversation came back to Sam. Dean had said that he knew how to trap this shtriga that was going after children. A hundred desperate, scared thoughts scrambled through Sam's brain as he whirled and strode to the door. Prevalent among them was that if Dean had kidnapped a child to act as bait, he was going to strangle the idiot. Then bring him back from the dead and have another go at him. It was possible. Even having been out of the game, he knew people! He heard his phone chirp again, but was too worried to bother checking it at that point. He yanked the door open just as the back door of the Impala was pushed open and a bundle of red hair exploded out, even as he heard his brother's laughter from inside the car.

And then the next thing he knew, little arms were wrapped around his waist, his eyes wide as the girl, only discernible by long red hair and a dress, squealed out, “Uncle Sammy! Daddy didn't tell me you were here!” Glaring at his brother as a whole new level of his brother's idiocy speculated through his mind, Sam shook his head slightly, even as his arms closed reflexively around the girl's shoulders. His brother climbed out of the driver's seats.

“Go ahead and use the bathroom, baby girl,” Dean called out as he emerged. The little girl let loose of Sam and darted around him and into the motel room as Sam twisted to see her heading straight for the bathroom and then whirled back to his brother.

“Dean...” he began, his tone low and warning.

“What's the matter Sammy?” Dean chuckled, but there was something flashing in his eyes. “Don't you ever check your phone?”

Sam shook his head again and held up his hand with his phone in it. “I just got your message.” Seeing that he had another message from Dean, he quickly opened it to read 'screw worse. This is FUBAR'd. Her name is Willow.'

“Okay then?” Dean remarked in a perky tone as another message chirp sounded and Sam shrugged one shoulder. He opened the next message and read 'nosy freak asses. Kid's got a plan.'

So it wasn't that Dean had kidnapped a kid, or had a kid with one of his one night stands, well perhaps it was both. Though that was awfully convenient. “Who is the 'nosy freak ass'?” he wondered quietly.

“Blue Taurus down the street,” Dean smiled widely and tilted his head in the direction he meant. Sam's eyes slid over his brother's shoulder and saw exactly the vehicle that his brother meant. “Been following me since the hospital. Some chick at the driver's wheel.”

“Because you took a kid to...?” Sam prompted, wondering what the hell had happened between now and the last time they'd talked.

“Dude, don't even go there,” Dean protested flatly. “Too complicated to get into right now. Get your gear, we're goin' for food.”

“Typical,” Sam snorted and with a resigned noise, stepped back into the room to grab his gear, coat, laptop and wallet. He left the door open and just as he'd scooped up the items he needed, the inner bathroom door opened and the little girl, Willow, Dean's text had said, stepped out.

“I washed my hands,” she offered, holding them up before her and Sam tried to smile encouragingly.

“Good job,” he complimented with the air of one who had no clue what to say to that.

“Mommy always says that it's the best way to not spread germs,” the girl announced. “Germs are yucky organists that like to make my tummy sick. I think,” she added hesitantly, the corners of her mouth dropping slightly as she began to blink rapidly.

“Well, she's right about that,” Sam agreed. “You ready to go?”

The girl nodded then and seemed to perk back up. “Daddy says that I can have dessert after I eat. Actually Daddy said I can have dessert for dinner if I behave myself. I ate marshmallows at my friend's house for dinner. But that's cause his mom forget to buy food.”

“Oh, that's...” Sam grimaced, “um, that happens sometimes, huh?”

“I'd rather have my mom forget to buy me more food than forget me at school,” Willow pronounced matter of factly as she fell into step beside him. Sam noticed immediately that she was scurrying to keep up and hastily shortened his steps some. As they moved back out of the motel, it was to see Dean swiping out some garbage that had accumulated in the back seat.

“There ya go sweetie,” he grinned. “That better?”

The girl skipped over to his brother and grabbed his hand. “Got it. It smells like my science experiments.” His brother's bark of laughter surprised him.

“Well this time, you can blame Uncle Sammy,” Dean shook his head, turning to aim the garbage at an outdoor bin not too far away. “That was his bag of nasty food.”

“It was probably that salad I bought you, that you refused to eat,” Sam scoffed as he recalled the suspicious stalker that Dean and the child had picked up. Suddenly he was eager to go with them and find out exactly what was going on.

“Right,” Dean nodded as he ushered Willow into the back seat, leaning over to make sure she buckled up. “Your dime, your dilemma.”

Sam shook his head once more and then climbed into the front seat. “So where are we heading?” he asked his brother as Dean climbed into the driver's seat.

“Family diner we saw a few blocks back,” Dean answered easily. There was an absence of conversation as the engine started up and then, as Dean maneuvered the car out of the parking spot, the little girl leaned forward as far as she was able.

“Hi,” she greeted again and Sam twisted his head around to see her holding out her hand. “My name is Willow Rosenberg and you're not my Uncle Sammy. But Dean who's not really my Daddy said we could pretend for now.”

Sam, slightly taken aback, automatically reached to shake her hand. “Uh, nice to meet you Willow.” He threw her a grin that was more of a grimace and then asked of his brother, “and why precisely are we pretending, rather than taking Willow home?”

“Because I'm from Sunnydale, California,” the girl began and took a deep breath, but Dean hastily cut her off.

“And she's not just visiting someone or just moved here,” Dean told him, his eyes dark. as the little girl continued a whispered litany of the ever widening world and Sam's eyes squinted at his brother.

“What...?” he began to ask as Willow's directions of where she lived came to an end. It occurred to him immediately that this was a hoax. Oh, not one where Dean was trying to yank his chain, with a kid no less, but that something had hoodwinked his brother. Because Sam knew very well that Sunnydale, California no longer existed. As in the town. Location yes, but a natural disaster that he'd had his suspicions about, but kept mum at the time, had reared their head. He and his friends at college had watched in amazement, the news reports pouring in about the sudden collapse of the town into a series of ever increasingly unstable underground caverns, back in '03. Luckily, it hadn't been so unexpected by the townspeople and the news reporters were (disappointed) able to report in their vulturelike fashion that for a town with such a large population, the evacuations were early and there had been no fatalities reported in the destruction.

“Dean,” he tried again, “Sunnydale is-!” But his brother smoothly cut him off.

“A long way away, and not a drive we can make tonight,” Dean nodded rapidly, giving his brother a meaningful glance and then lifting his eyes to the rear view mirror. Sam glanced at Willow, who seemed calm enough to patiently listen quietly. He could see Dean's point immediately. If something strange were truly going on here, and with their lives, could it be any less? But if this Willow were just a little girl, news that her home had been destroyed...

“Christo,” he muttered under his breath and startled a little when Willow piped up from the back seat.

“Yahweh!” she countered brightly and Dean chuckled again.

“She's Jewish dude,” he chided. “And I already tried.”

“I didn't blow up,” Willow announced and then Sam had to laugh as well. “And I drinked lotsa water. So I had to pee.” Sam saw a slight flush appear on the girl's face when she said that, but it cleared up quickly as she turned to Dean. “Does Uncle Sammy hafta drink the water now?”

“Probably wouldn't hurt,” Dean shrugged as he steered the car down the road, checking once more, his mirrors. “Though I haven't found anything yet to colonic his bad mood right out of him.”

“Dean!” Sam protested and then shook his head as Willow asked what a colonic was.

“It's a special treatment at the hospital they use to clean the yuckies out of your tummy,” his brother explained and Sam was surprised that Dean was able to explain so easily without grossing the child, or him, out. But then, that was probably all Dean understood about the procedure either.

“Oh,” Willow nodded. “Did that lady go away yet?” she wondered and Sam turned back to his brother, wondering the same himself.

“Haven't seen her,” Dean grunted. “But we'll keep pretending so she doesn't just call the police, okay?”

“Okay,” Willow nodded and sat back.

“Why exactly are we pretending?” Sam wondered and now it was his brother's turn to sigh.

“Dude, she showed up, I mean, just flashed into the car, outta nowhere,” Dean explained, trying to remain calm, though Sam could see it was visibly affecting his brother. He just didn't know why yet. “She's not evil, far as I can see. Just a kid. Taken from...” he paused, his eyes flickering to glance at the girl again. “Sam, we'll have to deal with her and... get her home, but this case we're on, it's more immediate. I mean, I feel bad for her parents, since she's disappeared, but there are kids that need help now.”

“Okay,” Sam nodded, satisfied for the moment. They could take Willow's situation as it came, do the research, but his brother was right. They were staring at a problem where kids were dying, not just disappearing to show up elsewhere. “Maybe we could ask someone to start looking into this though?” he suggested, waving one hand minutely in Willow's direction.

Dean nodded. 'Who'd you have in mind?” he asked and then snorted softly to himself. “Not like Dad'll pick up the phone for this,” he muttered.

“I was actually thinking Bobby, maybe,” Sam offered, referring to another grizzled old hunter. He was one of those that had been hunting long enough that if it happened, he'd seen it himself before or at least knew a bit more about it. “Maybe we can call Pastor Jim about getting her home. He's got contacts through his church.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean agreed. “Let's have a nice “family dinner” first though. Blue car at bitch o'clock and yes I know I said the B word Willow.” Sam grinned, realizing that the girl was opening her mouth even as Dean made that complaint. She shut her mouth gently and looked amused and a little smug. Sam leaned his arm over the seat and held his palm flat out to the girl.

“High five for hating potty mouths,” he teased and then smiled widely when she carefully slapped her hand down on his.

“Miss Tattersall washes your mouth out with soap if you say bad words,” she told him. “My friend likes the taste of Ivory.”

“So did Dean when he was your age,” Sam joked.

“Hey, hey,” Dean defended himself. “I said I was familiar with the taste. Not that I liked it.”

“That's not how our Dad tells it,” Sam scoffed and was pleased when the little girl, she was surprisingly endearing, giggled along with him.

Chapter Four- The D Word