Title: When Dean Winchester Met Frank Castle A crossover story that could easily work somewhere in Seasons 3–8.
The gritty streets of New York City pulse with an unsettling energy at 2 AM. Neon lights sputter, casting distorted shadows that dance in the alleyways. Dean Winchester pulls his battered 1967 Chevy Impala into a tight spot, the engine rumbling as he shuts it off. He’s dressed in his signature leather jacket, a faded white t-shirt, and jeans that’ve seen too many late nights. His weary eyes scan the shadows, a Colt 1911 gripped tightly in his hand. From the darkness, Frank Castle emerges, his skull-emblazoned Kevlar vest gleaming like a warning. He’s a living monument of violence—scars tell stories of vengeance. In his grip is an M67 grenade launcher, ready for the termination of criminals. He’s been following a human trafficking ring that leaves corpses as their calling card.
Dean’s gaze sharpens at the sight of the heavily armed vigilante. “Who the hell are you supposed to be?” he asks, not one to shy away from danger.
Frank’s jaw tightens. “I’m the one asking questions. What’s your angle here, cowboy?”
The air crackles with tension as they size each other up. Dean the outsider in a city that chews up the weak and spits them out. Driven by a hunt for the supernatural.
Dean steps out of the car, his hand relaxed on his gun. “I’m tracking a string of bodies linked to some demonic rituals.”
Frank scoffs, “Demonic rituals? This isn’t a fairy tale. You’re on my turf, and we do things my way.”
“Your way?” Dean chuckles darkly, a glint of challenge in his eyes. “You think you’ve got the corner on hunting monsters? I’ve been doing this long enough to know better.”
Frank’s gaze hardens, a chill in his voice. “I don’t waste time on monsters; I go after the real scum of this world.”
“Sometimes that line gets a little fuzzy,” Dean shoots back. “You wouldn’t be the first to mistake me for one of the bad guys.”
“Not from around here, are you?” Frank growls. “FBI? Another nut looking for trouble? Given your talk of monsters, I’m betting on the latter.”
“I’m a hunter,” Dean replies, voice tight. “And I don’t need your approval to do my job.”
“Alright, you’ve got my interest,” Frank says, stepping closer. “What are you hunting?”
Dean’s hand hovers near the knife at his side. “A series of demonic rituals. It’s been carving a bloody path, ripping hearts out. Leaving bodies in the wake. Sounds like your kind of mess.”
Frank’s grip on the grenade launcher tightens, skepticism etched on his face. “You’re talking about fairytales.”
“Oh, they’re real,” Dean smirks, a dangerous light in his eyes. “And like everything else I've taken down whatever it is they're about to learn that you don’t mess with a Winchester.”
The two circle each other, their gazes locked in a silent standoff. Both men used to being the top dog, neither willing to give ground.
“Everything else you've taken down?" Frank muses.
Dean says, “You name it, I’ve probably taken it down—banshees, daevas, vampires, werewolves, and even zombies.”
"You’re either lying or out of your mind,” Frank finally says. “Either way, you’re in my way.”
Dean's brows furrow at Frank's accusation. He takes a step forward, hands clenched into fists. "You think I'm lying? That I'd make up this shit about demons and monsters? You're either a moron or you've got some serious issues to work through."
Frank's lips curl into a sneer. "Issues to work through? You're the one spouting this crazy bullshit about demonic rituals. What's your angle? You looking for a quick buck or some kinda glory hunt?"
Dean laughs humorlessly. "Glory hunt? I'm not here for glory. I'm here because it's my job to stop this shit from happening. Because if I don't, who will?"
Frank shakes his head. "You're missing the point. I don't need your help or your fancy talk about monsters. This is my turf, my fight."
Dean's eyes narrow. "Is it though? Because from where I'm standing, you're just another vigilante with a skull on your chest. No different than the monsters I'm after."
Frank's jaw tightens. "You've got some nerve. Coming into my city, my turf, and trying to tell me how to do my job."
Dean steps closer, the air crackling with tension. "I'm not here to tell you how to do your job. I'm here to stop a killer before he claims any more victims."
Frank's expression hardens, his tone flat and intense. “If you want to stop a killer, I’m on board. But remember, I rule here. I’m the judge, jury, and executioner, and the sentence is always the same… death.’”
Dean's eyes flash with a mix of anger and determination. "Death? That's your solution? You're no different than the monsters I hunt."
He steps closer, his voice low and intense. "I get it, vengeance is a hell of a motivator. But there's more at stake here than just you and me."
Dean gestures to the shadows. "This killer? He's not just some low-level criminal. He's got help, powerful help. The kind that won't go down without a fight."
Frank's expression remains stoic, but there's a flicker of something in his eyes. "So what's your proposal, boy scout? You think you can take on the devil himself?"
Dean meets Frank's gaze unflinchingly. "I do. And I'm not alone. I've got a brother, a hell of a partner. Together, we've taken down some of the biggest, baddest monsters out there."
Frank chuckles darkly, "If a life is taken, then theirs is forfeit in return. I deal in black and white, absolutes. There’s no gray area or middle ground for me. Is it vengeance? No, it’s punishment!”
“And as for powerful help, I’ve got plenty of that.” he pats the grenade launcher with a smirk.
"If you got a plan, I'm all ears. Lets have the details and see if its viable."
"Alright, listen up, Frank. Here's the deal," Dean says, his voice low and intense. "This killer? He's using black magic to get people to do his dirty work. We need to stop him before he claims any more lives."
Dean steps closer, his eyes locked on Frank's. "I've got a plan. We set up a sting operation, draw him out into the open. Then, we hit him with everything we've got."
Frank's eyebrow arches, a smirk playing on his lips. "And what makes you think you can take him down? He's got resources, connections. You're just one guy with a gun."
Dean's jaw clenches. "Not just one guy. I've got my brother, Sam. He's a hell of a hunter too. Together, we've taken down some of the biggest, baddest monsters out there."
Frank's expression remains stoic, but there's a flicker of intrigue in his eyes. "Alright, I'm listening. But if we do this, my way. No half-measures, no second-guessing. You in?"
Dean nods, a determined glint in his eye. "I'm in. But we do this my way. No unnecessary bloodshed, no collateral damage. We're not monsters, Frank."
Frank's lips curl into a dark smile. "We'll see about that. But for now, let's focus on the task at hand."
Frank's expression softens slightly, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “I get it. I hate innocent blood on my hands just as much as you do. But in this line of work, things rarely go as planned. If you want to keep it clean, we need to be smart and stay ahead of the game. Let’s make sure no one gets caught in a possible crossfire.”
Dean nods, a look of grim determination on his face. "Smart, stay ahead of the game. I can work with that."
He glances at Frank, a hint of respect in his eyes. "I appreciate the concern, but I've been doing this long enough to know how to handle myself."
Dean steps closer, his voice low and intense. "We need to be strategic, hit him where it hurts. I've got some ideas, but I'll need your insight on the local turf."
Frank nods, a glimmer of approval in his eyes. "Alright, I'm in. But remember, if things go south, I don't hesitate to pull the trigger."
Dean meets Frank's gaze unflinchingly. "Understood. But let's hope it doesn't come to that. We take this bastard down, no unnecessary bloodshed."
He glances around, his expression turning serious. "We need to move. This killer, he's got eyes everywhere. We can't afford to linger."
Frank nods, a grim set to his jaw. "Agreed. Lead the way, hunter."
Dean leads the way, his eyes constantly scanning for threats. "Stay sharp. We don't know what we're walking into."
As they navigate the dark, gritty streets, Dean can't help but wonder if he's made the right call in trusting Frank. But one thing's for certain—he's got a job to do, and he won't rest until it's done.
Thirty minutes later, we find ourselves on a rooftop overlooking a warehouse, the grim trail of bodies leading us to this very spot. The grime on the window casings obscures any view inside, and the main bay doors are barely ajar—just wide enough for a single person to slip through. From our vantage point, we can’t see the warehouse roof, leaving us uncertain if there’s any way to access it from above.
“I don’t like this,” Frank mutters, his gaze scanning the area. “Too many uncertainties. Something feels off—like this could be a trap.”
Dean's eyes narrow as he scans the warehouse, a frown etched on his face. "I don't like it either, Frank. Something feels off."
He turns to Frank, his expression serious. "I think he's got us on a string, leading us into a trap."
Frank nods grimly. "I agree. It's too easy. He's setting us up."
Dean's jaw clenches. "We need to be smart about this. No rushing in blindly."
He glances at Frank, a hint of respect in his eyes. "I know you're used to your way of doing things, but we need to be strategic here. No unnecessary risks."
Frank's lips curl into a smirk. "Always playing it safe, aren't you, boy scout? Fine, we'll do this your way."
Dean nods, a determined glint in his eye. "Good. Here's what we're going to do…"
Dean outlines a plan, his voice low and intense. Frank listens, his expression thoughtful. As Dean finishes, Frank gives a curt nod.
Suddenly a gunshot rings out from somewhere and a window casing shatters. Frank scans the area but sees nothing even as another gunshot is heard, another window casing shattering. A muzzle suppressor he thinks to himself as the bay doors open wide and several individuals run out. (bam, bam, bam) each crack of a gunshot meet with a fallen body. From his vantage point he can see the blood spay from the heads of each person.
"Watch it, trained sniper. Keep low and still" Frank worns Dean.
Dean's eyes widen as the shots ring out, his body tensing instinctively. He grabs Frank, pulling him down behind the parapet just as another bullet whizzes past.
"Shit!" Dean hisses, his heart pounding in his chest. "He's got a sniper!"
Frank's eyes narrow, his jaw clenching. "Damn it. We walked right into his trap."
Dean's mind races, trying to piece together the puzzle. "We need to get closer, get a better look at the building."
"No, not his." I hiss. "This sniper is a new player and I think they are gunning for the same thing we are."
Dean's eyes widen as he processes Frank's words. "A new player? What the hell?"
He turns to Frank, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "You think they're after the same thing we are?"
Frank nods, his jaw tight. "I do. And if they get it first, we could be in big trouble."
Dean's mind races, trying to piece together the puzzle. "We need to get closer, try to get a better look at the building."
Frank's lips curl into a smirk. "I'll get us there. You keep that pretty mouth of yours shut and your eyes peeled."
Dean nods, a hint of respect in his eyes. "Roger that, Frank. Just don't go getting us killed."
Frank chuckles darkly. "Don't worry, boy scout. I've got a job to do, just like you."
Dean's lips tighten, but he nods. "Alright, let's move."
Dean follows Frank as they carefully make their way to a more vantage point, their senses on high alert. As they reach a covered area near the roof access, Dean turns to Frank.
"Alright, now what?" he asks, his voice low and tense.
Frank's eyes scan the area, his expression serious. "We wait. And we keep our eyes on that building. If there's a trap, we need to be ready to spring it."
Look its me the auther kicking some ass.
(Bam, bam, bam) more sniper fire rings out. Followed by a silence and then a lone figure approaches the bay doors of the warehouse. Several armed individuals come running out to attack the figure. The night suddenly brightens as the figure lets loose with a flame thrower light a couple of armed personal on fire. Then there's rapid gunfire.
"Awesome, got to get me one of those." dean says excitedly at the flame thrower/machine gun combo.
"Holy shit!" Dean exclaims, his eyes wide as he watches the scene unfold before them. "That flame thrower is badass!"
He turns to Frank, a grin spreading across his face. "I've always wanted one of those. Now I know why soldiers carry them around!"
Frank chuckles, his eyes scanning the area. "Not exactly the kind of firepower I was hoping for. But I'll give him points for creativity."
Dean's grin falters slightly at Frank's comment. "Hey, don't knock it until you've tried it. That thing is a beast."
Frank nods, his expression serious. "I'll take your word for it. But right now, we need to focus on getting inside that building."
Dean's expression turns grim. "You're right. That flame thrower guy is just a distraction. The real threat is still in there."
He glances at Frank, a hint of respect in his eyes. "Maybe we can use him as a distraction?"
Frank's lips curl into a smirk. "Slip in behind him as he clears out the nest and go after the big guy as he deals with the goons? Sounds like a plan."
Dean's brows raise. "Oh yeah."
Frank chuckles. "Let's focus on getting inside. Follow my lead and try not to get yourself killed."
As we sneak up behind Nick we hope he does not turn around, seconds pass which seems like hours.
Dean's heart pounds in his chest as they sneak up behind Nick, the flame thrower-wielding vigilante a stark contrast to the armed thugs surrounding him.
As seconds tick by, Dean's nerves fray, his finger hovering over the trigger of his gun. But then, it happens. Nick turns, and Dean tenses, ready for anything.
But instead of the expected violence, Nick grins, his eyes glinting with a manic energy. "Hey there, boys! Welcome to the BBQ."
Dean blinks, confusion etched on his face. "What the hell?"
The sound of the flamethrower roars to life, unleashing a torrent of white-hot flames that engulf the remaining armed personnel. The fiery spray creates a hellish scene, their startled screams drowned out by the crackling inferno. The heat radiates off the ground as the flames dance wildly, turning the night into a surreal battlefield of chaos and destruction.
Nick laughs, a wild, unhinged sound as he begins to sing.
"You don't care for me, I don't care about that, you got a new fool, Hah, I like it like that."
Frank's grip tightens on his weapon, his eyes narrowing. "This guy is certifiable"
Nick's grin widens, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as he continues. "I have only one desire, let me stand next to your fire."
Dean's brows shoot up, a mixture of shock and disbelief on his face. "Yeah, but his choice in music, It's like he's trying to be a one-man rock concert out here."
Frank smirks, shaking his head. “He's turning this into a flaming disco inferno.”
"I don’t do requests" Nick says, channeling his best Arnold Schwarzenegger from The Running Man, squeezing the trigger of the flamethrower.
A blazing stream of fire erupts, engulfing the remaining goons in a hellish inferno. Their panicked screams mix with the roar of the flames, turning the night into a chaotic symphony of heat and mayhem. It’s like he's the star of his own twisted action flick, and Nick's loving every second of it. Dean's eyes widen as the flamethrower roars to life, engulfing the remaining armed personnel in a sea of white-hot flames. The heat radiates off the ground, the flames dancing wildly in the night air.
"Son of a bitch," Dean mutters, shielding his face from the inferno. "What the hell is this guy's problem?"
Frank chuckles, his eyes scanning the scene. "He's a little off, don't you think?"
Dean nods, a grim expression on his face. "Off is one way to put it. More like completely unhinged."
“Guess I better hurry up,” Nick shouts over the chaos, a wide grin on his face. “At this rate, I might run out of fuel before I run out of targets! Who knew being a pyromaniac would come with a gas bill?”
As the last goon falls to the ground, engulfed in flames, Nick gives a dramatic sigh. “Bet he's got that burning itching sensation now! Talk about a hot mess!”
Dean can’t help but laugh, shaking his head. “You really need to get out more, man.”
“Why? I’m on fire out here!” Nick shoots back, striking a pose amidst the chaos. “Literally!”
Frank's lips curl into a smirk. "Well, at least he's good at his job. Those goons didn't stand a chance."
Dean can't help but laugh, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. "Yeah, he's got that going for him. But I don't know if that's enough to make up for the whole 'trying to turn us into human flambe."
Frank nods, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "Fair point. But hey, at least the night's not boring, right?"
