It’s part-serious with a dash of parody, but it’s all spitefic. I’ll warn you now: we did our best to stay as true to Meyer’s ridiculous canon as possible. And so, if you see something that’s just too ridiculous to be anything but a spoof? Yeah—chances are that’s where we were just sticking as close as possible to what we feel she actually wrote.
I present to you, in all of its cracky glory, our turned-out-to-be-pretty-epic Twilight/Supernatural crossover fic… “The Wedding Crashers.”
Title: The Wedding Crashers (1/12)
Author: Das Mervin and Mrs. Hyde
Betas: gehayi and kermit_thefrog
Rating: R for language, themes, violence, and sexual innuendo
Word Count: 4,585
Summary: After two years on her own, and two more as a hunter with Sam and Dean Winchester, Leah thought she’d escaped her old life at La Push. But when she’s called home to attend Jacob and Renesmee’s wedding, she brings a little company, and the stage is set for her old and new lives to collide.
Author’s Note: Okay! While not “Strange Bedfellows” kind of epic, it did wind up pretty epic for just a strange, strange little cracky crossover of Twilight/Supernatural where Leah Clearwater says “screw you!” to her own canon and hops into a much better one. We wrote a novel for it, after all! Think of “Poker Face” and “Philosophy/Fade to Black” as prequels or warm-up acts, which are incorporated/referenced in this one. Also, in terms of “Supernatural” canon, the same rules for those three apply here—this is kind of “outside” of current SPN canon. Everything previous applies, but seeing as season six is only halfway through, we don’t know how anything’s gonna turn out. As such? Just assume everything worked out just peachy and to everyone’s satisfaction and Sam and Dean went hunting into the sunset on a beautiful black metal steed and Cas comes out to play every now and again. We good? We’re good.
Spoilers: Spoilers for Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, Breaking Dawn, and all six seasons of “Supernatural.”
Disclaimer: “Supernatural” is the property of Kripke Enterprises and Warner Bros. Television. The Twilight Saga is the property of Stephenie Meyer and Little, Brown and Co. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from this work.
CHAPTER 1 – DON’T BRING ME DOWN
Sometimes Leah thought she wasted too much time playing with her cell phone.
It was just that the novelty hadn’t quite worn off yet; back home, money was tight and the only cell phone she’d had was a ratty, out-of-date model that only carried the most basic of functions. By the time she’d set out on her own, she was so sick of everyone on or around the reservation that she’d seen no need to update, having neither the time nor the money to waste on stuff like that between vamp hunts.
But now that she was no longer always on her own (and that her new comrades-in-arms were quite experienced con men), she was getting used to the finer things in life—and one of those was a new, reliable cell phone so she could keep in touch with them when on the hunt. However, there was still quite a lot of time between said hunts, and now that she was no longer spending it foraging for food and sleeping in caves, she had time to burn—and she burned a lot of it messing with her new phone.
Oh, there were definitely moments when it paid off—like when they were packing up to leave one afternoon and she couldn’t find her phone, so Sam had called her so she could locate it by the ring. The expression on his face when the chorus of “Sympathy for the Devil” started blaring out from the pile of used towels on the floor was totally worth all the time she’d spent choosing and programming it in. Just as it had been totally worth it when Dean had not paid attention when scrolling through his phonebook and called her accidentally over dinner and had been treated to a tinny little rendition of “Dude Looks Like a Lady” in his honor. Really, though, probably the best had been their faces that time they’d both been dunked during a fight with a water wraith, rendering their phones out of commission, and so Castiel had called her, as heralded by “I’m Too Sexy,” much to her companions’ indignation.
Really, though, those had just been relatively few instances of payoff after who knew how many hours she’d spent customizing and personalizing her phone, and more than once she’d thought that since her jokes were now spent, she should just say “screw it” and set everyone to her default “Hungry Like the Wolf” and leave it be.
But then, there would be a moment like this one, when her phone suddenly burst into buzzing life with the chorus of “Don’t Bring Me Down,” and even as her stomach dropped into her feet, she was grateful enough for the warning that she considered every wasted second as time well-spent.
She groaned and dropped her forehead onto the table, feeling the phone vibrating through the wood and into her skull. She looked up to find Sam and Dean staring inquiringly at her from their lunch; she just shook her head at them before wearily picking up the phone and, after briefly contemplating hitting “ignore,” took the call.
“Hello?” she said resignedly.
It was Jacob. Only he could manage that perfect mix of smugness and belligerence; what she wouldn’t give to get fully out from under his Alpha thumb. “Nice of you to answer on the first call this time,” he said derisively.
“I only answer when I have opposable thumbs,” Leah answered testily, and before he could start up again, added, “What is it?”
There was a slight pause, and Leah could practically hear that patronizing eyeroll of his that he seemed to reserve especially for her, like he was some kind of wise old graybeard dealing with a wayward child. “I called to tell you that I asked Nessie to marry me six months ago.”
There was yet another reason Leah loved her cell phone—her striking out on her own had provided the added advantage of discovering that yes, if she did put enough distance between her and them, telepathy was eventually rendered impossible, and so now telephone was the only way she could talk to her pack. And this way, she could have all the nauseated thoughts and pull all the disgusted expressions she wanted, and no one would be the wiser. “Well, I admit, that is a bit of surprise,” she said after a moment, keeping her voice light. “I thought you had probably married her already, and that I’d just been out of the loop.”
“Well, I wanted to a couple of years ago, but she wanted to wait,” Jacob said, dwelling on what was apparently his displeasure with the delay, and so was oblivious as usual to any ill-will Leah bore him (which was a lot). “But, anyway, the wedding is in two weeks, and Nessie wants you there.”
Leah blinked for a moment, and then leaned her face into her hand as his words sank in. “Any particular reason why?” she asked, her voice tight to mask the horror she felt at the idea.
The boys on her end had clued in immediately that there was no joy in Mudville and were looking at her with a sort of curious concern. Jacob, of course, didn’t notice her weary tone. “Well,” he said pompously, “Ness wants an outdoor wedding—but more importantly, she doesn’t want all of her vampire family to have to hide what they are, so we’re keeping the guest list exclusive—the pack, other vampires, and the only humans who can come are the ones in the know.”
Leah wondered if Jacob knew how patronizing he sounded—how much like a Cullen he sounded.
“Anyway,” he was blathering on, “that cut down the guest list by quite a lot—none of her human friends from school will be able to make it, so she wants to make sure that as much family as possible will be there, to round out the guest list and keep everything even.”
“Okay—so what’s that got to do with me? I’m not related to her,” she said through her clenched jaw.
“Maybe not by blood, but you’ve apparently forgotten you are Bella’s stepsister, and so you’re technically Nessie’s aunt,” Jacob said sharply back.
It took everything in her power to not reply that yes, she had forgotten, had been much happier for it, and did not appreciate being reminded that not only did her mother remarry less than a year after her father had died, but also that she was now technically part of the Cullen family tree.
“Not only that, but you are part of the pack, Leah—and my cousin,” Jacob said, the warning obvious in his words, although their tone made it clear that he took about as much pleasure in that connection as she did. “You are part of both of our families, so I’m calling to tell you to come.”
A tiny hiss escaped her as she felt a sudden constriction in her mind, as if an iron band had been tightened around her brain. There was nothing she hated more in this world than that, than the feel of that horrible Alpha command; no distance could keep it from stripping her of her free will just to suit the whims of an irresponsible, overgrown child who styled himself as her pack leader—and there was nothing she could do about it.
But that’s what she got for playing dumb—she knew better by now that if she lay low and kept her true thoughts to herself, he’d leave her alone. So, rather than telling him exactly what he could do with his “invitation,” she forced her voice into an admittedly brittle semblance of pleasure and said, “Well, then—tell Renesmee—” she bounced her eyebrows at the bewildered looks she got from the brothers across the table, “—that I’ll be there.”
“You can tell her yourself,” Jacob said, his tone back to normal. “She wants to talk to you.”
“Oh, okay, great,” she said flatly, confident that in his supreme indifference towards her, the nuances of her tone would be lost on Jacob. She heard the rustle of the phone changing hands, which gave her time to steel herself.
“Hi, Lee-lee.” Leah raised her eyes skyward and prayed for patience (or perhaps just a quick death) in the face of the eternally haughty and self-satisfied voice that was suddenly on the phone, made all the worse by her use of that nickname. “Are you coming?”
Well, she certainly didn’t waste any time. “Yes, Renesmee,” Leah said, leaning her head tiredly on her hand. “I’m coming.”
“Oh, good! Everyone will be so glad to hear it. I mean, you haven’t been home in how long now?”
Not long enough. “About four years.”
“See?” she responded smugly. “And what better reason to return, right? Everyone gathered together again for my wedding!”
Ah, yes—the truth comes out—that being the part of the arrangement that you actually care about. “Yes, how true,” Leah said, forcing her jaw to unlock in order to mouth the inane platitudes that would keep Renesmee happy. “Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Yes, yes, I’m sorry—I’m just so excited! Planning a wedding just takes so much effort—it’s so much work to get everything just perfect,” she droned. “I wanted to inform you that the dress code is going to be black tie, so you really need to hurry and come up here now so we can buy you an appropriate dress and—”
No. Absolutely not. “Ah—thank you,” Leah interrupted firmly, “but I can take care of my own dress myself.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” came the immediate and breezy dismissal. “Aunt Alice wants there to be a theme to both sides, so the juxtaposition will be just so stunning, and we’ve been getting our clothes from this brilliant and exclusive designer in France. We’re booking a spa day and hair and makeup appointments for all the women, too, which you’ll need, and I’m getting jewelry for all the attendants and—”
Leah drew in a calming breath. “Thank you, but I’m afraid I can’t make it,” she said as decisively as she dared; Renesmee never took kindly to being told “no.” “I really appreciate it,” she (falsely) assured her, “but I’m in the middle of something right now and really won’t be able to make it up there so soon, and I don’t want to disrupt your plans for everyone else.”
Leah could tell from the stony silence on the other end of the line that the brat was pouting—but better a pout than a tantrum, as she had learned from bitter experience. Still, pout or no, it was a small victory when the sulky voice on the other end of the line finally said, “Well, fine, then—but I still say it would be simpler if you just let us buy it; that way you’d fit in for a change and you wouldn’t have some cheap off-the-rack thing that—”
“Just tell me what I should look for,” Leah ground out through her clenched teeth, “and I promise that I’ll have something appropriate.”
Renesmee was off immediately. “Well, all my family’s look is going to be avant garde, so I thought it would be a wonderful complement if all the pack and such were wearing something of a more traditional style. I was thinking some really bright and bold colors, maybe even with beading, so you would have a superbly tribal feel going on when next to us. Really, it would make such a fabulous contrast between all you people and my family, and Mommy and I both agree that it will make a fantastic background for me and Jacob standing together in the middle. Mommy said it will really bring everyone together and unite both groups like no one else can and—”
Dimly, Leah heard the cracking sounds of her fingers digging gouges out of the wood beneath her hands, and the shouts of surprise of her roommates, but she paid little attention to it; she was focused entirely on keeping her temper and not losing control of her form in the middle of the motel room and ruining her favorite blouse in the process.
“Got it,” she forced out, risking the brat’s wrath in stopping the monologue for the safety of her clothes. “Traditional. Bold colors.”
“And don’t just get some ugly sack of a dress,” Renesmee commanded. “Try to look feminine for a change, Lee-lee. Really, I know it’s hard, what with that whole ‘tomboy’ persona you have going, but this is my wedding and I want everything to be perfect, so wear something decent.” Leah heard her give a huffy little sigh before she continued. “I still say you should just finish whatever it is you’re fooling around with and come up here, though. That way Aunt Alice and I can just take care of everything for you and make sure you look properly—”
“When is the wedding?” Leah’s shaking had subsided, but she could still feel the cords in her neck straining beneath her flesh, and she knew her mouth was twisted in a snarl.
She heard another angry huff on the other end, and Leah held her breath, lest the spawn go running to Jacob—but she finally just sharply answered, “June 17th. The ceremony starts at eleven—so everyone must get here by at least ten. However, you should be earlier.”
“All right.” Leah took several calming breaths through her nose. “June 17th, ideally before ten.” She swallowed and closed her eyes briefly, and then asked, “And it’s at your parents’ house, right?”
Renesmee snorted once with patronizing laughter. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Lee-lee. That is not what I wanted. That may have been satisfactory for my mom, but I wanted something a bit more dramatic, and really, Mommy and Daddy were both insisting on something bigger for me. Jacob, too. We’re going to set up a pavilion on the beach out at La Push, with a dance floor and everything—”
“Wait a minute—La Push?” Leah interrupted sharply, her shock overriding her normal restraint when speaking to Jacob’s little squeeze. “You’re having the wedding at La Push?”
“Well, yes! Can you think of anywhere better? It will be perfect. Jacob is probably more excited than I am, because we’re going to get married on his ancestral land. It’s so symbolic of our marriage, don’t you think?”
“And just who is coming to this wedding?” Leah demanded.
“Well, everyone, of course,” Renesmee answered, as though it were obvious. “All the Quileutes who know about the wolves and vampires can come, and all my family of course. Alice insisted that we put out the word to all of our vampire friends who came to join us way back when I was just born—you know, when the Volturi came down and they all fought to protect me—and I’ve told anyone who might actually have a date to bring that they’re more than welcome to come too, even humans so long as they’re informed. That way, I’ll have a full party, and—”
“At La Push?!”
There was a small silence, and then, “Yes, Leah—at La Push. It’s Jacob’s home, and, well, really, where else could we go that not only has a suitable backdrop but where all my family doesn’t have to worry about being seen? Alice is even predicting a sunny day.” Renesmee’s voice was filled with sugary patience, as if she was speaking to an exceptionally slow child.
Leah didn’t have time for that, nor time to marvel that even the goddamn weather bent over backwards to please that little monster. “Renesmee—I’m sorry, but vampires are expressly forbidden from going to La Push by the treaty—there’s no way—”
Renesmee laughed, her condescending little chuckle like a fork in Leah’s ear. “Oh, is that what had you worried? Jacob had it changed.”
Leah just sat still in shock as Renesmee blithely went on. “I wanted my wedding on the beach and at La Push, so Jacob had the treaty changed for me and my family. Now we can go wherever we wish. He said it was an early wedding present—I think it’s so romantic and sweet the way he does anything and everything to make me happy.”
Leah had no words. None. She didn’t hear anything else of what Renesmee babbled on about after that—not that she noticed, of course; the spawn didn’t want input, she just wanted to listen to herself talk. Leah was finally snapped out of her trance when she said, “Well, I’m afraid I need to run, Lee-lee. I have far too much to do. I really can’t be wasting so much time talking to you. Anyway—June 17th, be on the beach by ten at the latest. Jacob says so too,” she added, her tone insinuating. “We’ll see you then—bye!” And she hung up.
Leah just sat there, frozen, her jaw hanging open, her phone stuck to her ear by her unmoving hand.
La Push. Vampires at La Push. The treaty—the werewolves, her home, her tribe’s whole history, what the werewolves stood for, what had ruined her life—and Jacob “had it changed.” All for that insufferable little brat.
“Ah—I take it that wasn’t Led Zeppelin calling to tell you that the band’s getting back together,” Dean said, breaking the silence.
Leah swallowed the bile that had risen in her throat. “No. No, they are not,” she said in clipped tones, closing her phone and setting it down and then folding her hands neatly in front of her. She stared at her laced fingers for a moment, and then looked up. “I have to go home,” she said.
“What—back to the Quileute reservation?” Sam asked. At her nod, the brothers exchanged glances. “What’s going on?”
Leah licked her lips. “My pack leader is getting married, and they want me there,” she said quietly.
Dean grimaced in sympathy. “Aw, man—you have to go back and put on your monkey suit and get your cheeks pinched by your Great Aunt Enid?”
Leah tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. “I wish it was that simple.” She closed her eyes and bowed her head for a moment. “I really, really don’t want to go back there,” she said, looking up.
Sam’s sympathy was a bit less playful. “Hey, we understand. Dealing with your family—they can twist you up like nobody else can,” he said kindly. “But they’re still family, so they still come first.”
Now she did smile, but she knew it was bitter. “Thanks, guys. But with all due respect, that’s your family. You don’t know my family.” She looked away, swallowing the snarl that tried to escape her as she added, “And you really don’t know the bride’s family.”
The bride’s family. The Cullens. Those filthy, self-righteous bloodsuckers were going to be waltzing all over her home—and her so-called family was just going to let them. That old, buried coal of resentment surfaced, and that thought fanned it into a flame. “I left La Push because I couldn’t stay there with them—I couldn’t live like that—and I thought that I’d finally put all that behind me. And now,” she bit out, “I have to go back for a wedding.”
She looked up, and there were Sam and Dean, and even thought they didn’t know much about her life before, they were looking at her with more genuine feeling than she had ever gotten from any of her so-called family back home.
Her family—they didn’t know the meaning of the word. She was there just for their convenience, and their convenience was to treat her like shit. They didn’t care about her, not even enough to hate her; if they’d hated her, they’d have thrown her out and told her never to come back. But she was not so fortunate to have their hate, only their unreasoning contempt. She was merely their designated whipping boy, and it was just because she wouldn’t—couldn’t—fight back.
And suddenly, as she looked into the strong, open faces of her friends, she knew what she was going to do.
“And you two are coming with me.”
Their compassion quickly gave way to alarm. “Hey, now, Leah—you’re hot and you get naked all the time and everything, but we don’t do weddings,” Dean was quick to say.
“And why not? When was the last wedding you went to?” she shot back.
He opened his mouth, but closed it again quickly and looked off with pursed lips. She eyed Sam, who screwed up his mouth and shrugged his shoulders. “Come on, guys. When have I ever asked anything of you?” she said. “I don’t want to—” She paused, inhaling a breath through her nose before continuing. “I can’t go back there alone. Not after all this time, and right into all of them together like that. I need you guys to come with me. Please.”
Part of her felt badly about it, but like any knight errant, these two were quite susceptible to damsels in distress. She wasn’t faking her upset—but she wasn’t bothering to hide it, either.
And, true to form, she could see their defenses crumple. They weren’t happy about it, but in the exasperated looks they gave each other, she could see their acquiescence. She broke into a wide smile. “Thank you,” she said, and it was sincere, and she couldn’t help but stand up and reach across the table to seize Dean in a hug and drop a kiss on his cheek before doing the same to his brother.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said dismissively, shrugging her off. “But you are so gonna owe me for this one,” he said, whipping out his index finger at her and poking it in her face.
She grinned. “Next stop we have with a kitchen, I’ll make you a chocolate cream pie,” she said sweetly.
He blinked at her, and then nodded approvingly. “I was gonna suggest that you bring me a beer and massage my feet while I watch the game, but that works.”
She snorted at him, but the relief that was coursing through her was quite real. “And you, Sam?” she asked, near giddy at the thought of not having to face the pack alone. “You want me to make you a big plate of tofu and organic bean sprouts?”
As a fellow red meat eater, Dean laughed appreciatively, while Sam simpered wryly back at her but then answered, “Thanks, but no. My price is that at our next stop, you get to share a bed with Dean—I get mine all to myself.”
Dean looked incredulously at him. “Sammy, what is wrong with you?” he demanded, his expression torn between outrage and disgust. “You’re getting payback from the hot chick that involves changed sleeping arrangements, and you tell her that she has to share a bed with your brother?”
“Yeah—should I be offended, or just be trying to set you up with that cute little gay guy I met back in Nashville?” Leah asked, one eyebrow raised.
“God—it’s like I’m not even related to you,” Dean said, shaking his head.
Sam raised his hands. “Dude, Dean—you like to cuddle, and you drool. And you snore,” he added to Leah. “You two are welcome to each other.”
“I do not snore!” she exclaimed in outrage over Dean’s own vehement denials of any such sleeping habits.
Sam just crossed his arms and smirked. “Hey, you two believe what you want. But I’m the one getting a decent night’s sleep out of the deal.”
Leah pulled a face at him; Dean just shot him the finger before turning to her and asking, “So, what’s the plan, then?”
She sighed, her jovial mood fleeing her once again, and raked her hand through her hair; it was getting long enough to be in the way, and she’d have to cut it soon. “It’s up in La Push. That’s way out on the tip of the Olympic Peninsula in Washington.”
“Cool—that’s actually one of the few temperate rain forests in the world,” Sam said. “I hear the scenery is fantastic.”
“What the hell does that even mean,” Dean wanted to know, irritated, “and how the hell do you know that?”
Sam just rolled his eyes. “It means it’s a genuine rainforest, but it’s not tropical—they still have seasons. And I know because I read things other than Busty Asian Beauties.”
Leah rubbed her arms, ignoring the snark-fest starting up around her; she was getting uncomfortable just at the thought of going back home, but she reminded herself that she’d have company.
Company who valued her for herself—and who weren’t fettered by the mental chains that kept her at bay.
“Yeah,” she said, cutting into the catfight. “It is pretty up there, and so’s the beach, near where I lived. Popular with surfers—and cliff divers,” she added sourly, remembering. “That’s where the wedding will be. It’s in about two weeks, June 17th, and we’ll need to be there in the morning.” She eyed them both. “This is a wedding, guys, and it’ll be the works, I can tell you: formal dress, full ceremony, champagne, dancing, receiving line—the works.”
Dean looked pained; Sam just gave her a look and said, “What, you think we can’t shape up and play nice for a day?”
“Guys—I’m serious,” she said. “This is the wedding of my pack leader. And the bride’s family?” she went on. “Those guys are seriously white collar, and they are very, very into outward appearances and first impressions.”
Sam and Dean weren’t even bothering to pay attention to her lecture anymore; they were just rolling their eyes at each other and smirking at her.
“This is important to me, guys,” she said, standing up and leaning over the table, ignoring Dean as he peeked down her shirt, like he always did. “I’ve asked you to come, and you agreed, so now you have to play ball.” She looked them both dead in the eye. “I want you two to be on your absolute worst behavior.”
They both froze mid-sneer and did literal double takes. They looked at each other, then at her unsmiling face, and then at each other again.
“Did you just say worst?” Dean finally asked her, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard.
“Yes,” she answered, standing up straight and crossing her arms over her chest. “I did. I left that place because I couldn’t stand those people—I couldn’t stand being treated like something they scraped off their shoes just because I happened to be a woman intruding on their little sausage fest. And now, I want to piss them off so bad that I never, ever get another summons home from those sell-out, sexist sons of bitches again.”
Now she smiled at their disbelieving faces, and added, “And if I get to stick it to their smug, self-righteous asshole friends and ruin that spoiled, rich-bitch little brat and her pedo boyfriend’s wedding in the process, well, so much the better.”
She leaned down on the table and bared her teeth in a feral grin. “I want to crash this party.”
Author’s Note: Now that the chapter’s over, I just wanted to list the songs we mentioned in the fic—or rather, the artists that go along with the titles.
1) ELO – “Don’t Bring Me Down,” which provides both the chapter title and soundtrack, as well as Leah’s ringtone
2) Rolling Stones – “Sympathy for the Devil”
3) Aerosmith – “Dude Looks Like a Lady”
4) Right Said Fred – “I’m Too Sexy”
5) Duran Duran – “Hungry Like the Wolf”
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