Chapter Text
A massive headache was pounding in Remy’s head. Son of a bitch! He felt like shit. Every inch of his body was aching and his head felt like a brass band was trying to break free. The last time he’d felt this bad was when he’d first joined the X-Men and had been stupid enough to try and outdrink the Wolverine. He hadn’t ever made that mistake again. The headache the next day sure as hell hadn’t been worth it. Nor had the lecture from Hank about alcohol poisoning. It had, however, made Logan grin plenty and sparked their friendship, so Remy couldn’t ever really regret it.
What the hell was going on here? The more he woke, the more confusing things became. One weak blink had told him that opening his eyes was a monumentally stupid idea right at the moment. Wherever he was, it was too fucking bright. Was that—sunlight? That didn’t make any sense.
The last place Remy remembered being was…the labs. Sinister’s labs. Shit.
The X-Men had been on a rescue mission to retrieve Spencer.
The thought of his best friend and lover was enough to shove back some of the residual pain and to have Remy moving. He rolled his body to the side, getting onto his hands and knees the hard, was that pavement? Squinting in the light, he looked down at the pavement under him. Where the hell was he? What had happened?
None of that was important. He didn’t give a damn how he’d gotten to wherever the hell ‘here’ was. All that mattered was that the last thing he remembered was throwing a charged card while Spencer sent a blast of electricity, the two of them holding tight to one another against the blast Sinister had been sending their way, and then the whole world had exploded and now Remy was in this strange place and Spencer wasn’t right here with him. Groaning against the ache, Remy pushed himself up, forcing his way to his feet and taking in his surroundings even as he reached down the link he and Spencer shared.
Still squinting in the light, Remy scanned the area around him. It looked like a parking lot near some kind of run down looking buildings. What was probably considered the ‘bad part’ of town. Remy had seen enough in various cities to recognize them. No matter what city you were in, they all looked the same eventually.
A small flare in his link with Spencer flares, a burst of worry and an exhaustion deeper than Remy had ever felt from him, and there’s no time to think, no time to do anything but react. Remy took off like a shot, racing across the empty parking lot and over to a nearby alley. Halfway down the alley he could hear the sound of fighting and it only made him move faster. One hand reached back into his coat to pull out his Bo. His own energy levels felt low and he didn’t want to risk charging anything until he was sure he’d be okay; the last thing he needed was to spend too much and collapse completely.
When he rounded the corner, he had his Bo open in front of him, ready to go. What he found was nothing like what he’d expected.
Years of fighting in life or death situations enabled him to take in the scene and react within a split second. There were about six different…creatures, with these insanely sharp teeth, fighting hard and fast, taking blows and hopping back up from them just like Creed did, and hell, he fighting hard-to-hurt assholes was a giant pain. There were two guys there as well and Remy almost faltered when he saw they were wielding machetes. Machetes? He saw why a second later when the taller of the two took off one of the creatures heads.
Then his eyes landed on the most important thing of all and Remy was moving again, darting past the one creature that had noticed him. He jumped onto a nearby box, then onto a dumpster, using it and his Bo to leap over the group, landing almost perfectly in front of Spencer's prone body. His partner was on the ground, trying so hard to press himself against the wall and push up, and failing miserably at it. Remy braced his feet and planted himself firmly in front of him, offering up a snarl worthy of the Wolverine. Holding his Bo at the ready, he smirked at the group of creatures that were now eyeballing him. “Bring it on, mes amis.”
Whatever the hell these were, they were smart, and they were quick. They moved as a group, a few striking out at him while another tried to dart around him, but Remy wasn’t a novice. He may not have seen anything like this before but he knew how to fight and like hell if he was going to let them get his lover. A few quick blows sent the bastards flying backwards.
Okay, so apparently these things were stupider than Remy had thought. By turning their attention to Remy and Spencer, they weren’t paying as much attention to the other two guys as they should’ve been. The two guys took out two more as Remy fought to keep his partner safe. Whatever the hell these things were, they weren’t human, and Remy doubted they were mutant either. He felt no regret as he watched the guys behead the last of these things. It was when they turned their attention to him and Spencer that he started to worry again. The guys didn’t strike, though. They actually lowered their weapons and the taller of the two held up his empty hand in a peaceful gesture. “It’s okay, you two are safe now. We’re not gonna hurt you.”
The other guy made a sound low in his throat and took a step forward. “We just need to check your friend back there and make sure none of these guys got a bite in.”
“Back off, homme.” Remy warned him, shifting just enough that he could watch both men while still protecting Spencer. “Gambit aint in de mood f’ any shit right now.”
The taller of the two looked a little surprised, then a little calculating. “Gambit?” He looked them over, gaze running over Remy from head to toe, and the surprised look grew, with an edge of something else that told Remy the guy was resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “This is one hell of a place to LARP at, guys.”
Remy moved his grip on his Bo and furrowed his brows. “Larp?” He drawled the word out slowly, as if testing it. “What de hell are y’ talking about, homme?”
At the word ‘LARP’, the short of the two turned toward the other, a scowl building. Tall Guy ignored him and shook his head at Remy. “Yeah. The contacts, the Bo staff, the jacket, the accent. You’re dressed up as Gambit.”
If anything, his words had Remy’s hands going tighter on the staff. What the hell? Something was going on here; something strange. He adjusted his stance slightly to better keep himself between Spencer and these two unknown men. At the same time, he kept his senses open, trying to pay attention for anything else that might attack them. “Y’ sure know a lot about Gambit. What’s it to y’? And what de hell is dis larp y’r talking about?”
A brief flare on his senses warned him only seconds before he heard Spencer's voice. “LARP stands for live-action-role-play.” The young genius told him. Almost as soon as he started speaking, Remy was moving again, keeping an eye on the men with one side while turning just enough to reach down to his partner, catching the hand that Spencer was sticking up. Very carefully Remy hauled him up, helping to prop him up against the wall. He gave him a quick once over, checking for blood or signs of serious damage. The way that Spencer held his stomach suggested damage there that Remy knew he’d have to look at later. Nothing looked immediate, though. At least, so long as Spencer kept his feet. His face was pale and his body showed signs of exhaustion. The contacts he had in kept Remy from being able to see the sparks in his eyes like he usually would, so there was no telling that way how bad the energy loss was. The more energy Spencer lost, the duller the sparks in his eyes became.
Upright, Spencer let go of Remy’s arm, moving his hand instead to brace on the Cajun’s shoulder. His other arm stayed around his waist. Once he had his support he looked over to the two guys. “Why do you think he’s LARPing?”
The look on Tall Guy’s face suggested that the question was stupid. He scoffed lightly, looking to Pretty Boy before looking back at them. “Seriously?” He asked, his tone disbelieving. “I mean, come on. He’s dressed like Gambit, from the X-Men comics.”
“Comics? Really?” Pretty boy said. He cast his friend a rueful look. “You are such a geek, man.”
“Shut up, Dean.”
While those two bickered, Spencer and Remy were both frozen, both of them thinking the same thing. Comics? The X-Men were in comics? Something wasn’t right here. There was something very, very wrong. Spencer's mind was already racing over the possibilities, it was easy for his partner to see. His hand tightened on Remy’s shoulder. Remy turned to look at him, their eyes meeting. “Y’ve got to be kidding me.” Remy murmured in as low a voice as he could manage. “Are y’ t’inking what I’m t’inking?”
“We were all firing off energy at once.” Spencer murmured back, just as low. “Mine, yours, his. Theoretically, it is possible.”
“Mais, to a place where we aint even real? Comics, cher. Y’ hear him? Comics!”
“Hey!” The one the guy had called Dean yelled out, interrupting their whispered conversation. “Mind sharing with the class?”
Remy quirked a brow at Spencer and tilted his head in a questioning way. That was one benefit of having known one another so long—they knew each other well enough to be able to read facial expressions and occasionally carry on whole conversations without words. It came in handy at times like this. Remy’s look clearly asked Spencer what he thought they should do. The ragged little sigh coupled with the half shrug and half smile, as well as the resignation that Remy felt from him, were all Spencer's way of saying they had to trust them. Remy agreed. It wasn’t really like they had a choice, either. If they were in some strange world where the X-Men were just…comics…then they needed to find out everything they could before they did anything else. That meant trusting someone. Or, trusting them a little. He wasn’t stupid. He’d watch them.
Decision made, Remy nodded and looked back over at the two. With the press of hidden buttons, he retracted his Bo and then stowed it away once more. Then he slipped his hand into his pocket where his cards were. At the same time, he extended his charm slightly, reaching out toward the two men with it. “Hate to break it to y’, mais we aint doing dis LARP t’ing, mes amis. And dese eyes, dey aint contacts.” Remy pulled his hand from his pocket slowly, noticing how they braced. When they saw he only had a card, Dean relaxed slightly while Tall Guy turned both cautious and curious. Remy flashed him a reassuring grin and held the card aloft. He drew on his charge until the card was glowing in his hand. Then he threw it up into the air where it exploded over their heads. It was just slightly pleasing, the way their eyes widened and moved back toward him. Dean was braced once more, his machete down but his other hand inching toward where Remy would’ve bet a gun was hidden. Tall Guy was just gaping slightly at him. Remy smirked and folded one arm over his waist, executing a short yet elegant bow, managing to keep Spencer's hand on his shoulder the whole time. “M’ name is Remy LeBeau and it’s a pleasure to meet y’, gentlemen.”
Any other teasing stopped when Remy felt Spencer's hand loosen on his shoulder. In a flash the Cajun spun, reaching out in just enough time to catch Spencer as he started to melt down toward the ground, unconscious. Curses slid past Remy’s lips. Dammit! He cursed himself for not paying better attention. With gentle hands he gathered Spencer close before bending down and swiping an arm behind his legs.
When he straightened back up, he found the two guys watching him. They must’ve come to some sort of decision while Remy was picking up his precious bundle because they looked perfectly in tune with one another when Tall Guy said “Bring your friend this way. Our car’s over here and we can take you to a hospital.”
“Non.” Remy said immediately, instinctively tightening his hold on Spencer. “No hospitals.”
His response didn’t seem to surprise them at all. Dean looked over at Tall Guy and then back to Remy, sighing. “At least let us get you outta here before someone comes. You don’t wanna be caught trying to explain this shit.”
They weren’t just offering to be kind, Remy knew. Whatever this strange fucking thing was that had happened to them, these two obviously didn’t want to let them out of their sight until they had it figured out. From the looks of it they dealt pretty well with crazy. Nothing they were feeling seemed off or malicious, either. Though it went against the grain to put so much trust in someone that he didn’t know, Remy knew he didn’t have a choice. Not with an injured partner in his arms. Spencer had already suggested to trust them, and Remy trusted Spencer's opinion. Besides, right now he needed to take care of Spencer, and if they were in some strange world where X-Men didn’t even exist, he didn’t need to do anything that might draw attention to himself. Going with these two was his best bet. If things went south, he always had his cards. He could get them out. “D’accord. We’ll come.”
“Great.” Tall Guy said. “It’s just over this way.”
It worried Remy just how light Spencer was. He was so easy to carry as Remy followed the pair that he was pretty sure were brothers over to their car. A nice car, too. The impala earned a appreciative nod from Remy. Carefully, declining any help, he got him and Spencer into the backseat, cradling Spencer under one arm and against his side, allowing Remy to keep one hand free to grab cards if need be. The last thing he wanted to do was blast anything inside of a car, especially one as nice as this. But he’d do what he had to if it meant keeping Spencer safe.
Dean was already starting the car when Tall Guy—he’d heard Dean call him Sam on the walk over in a whispered conversation they probably hadn’t realized he could hear—turned around to look in the backseat at them. There was honest worry on his face as he looked over Spencer. “Are you sure you don’t want a hospital?”
“No hospital, homme.” Remy reiterated. “Y’ really t’ink dat’d be de best idea? Two mutants showing up at a hospital in a world where apparently, mutants are only in comics? Aint looking to turn into some science experiment. Done m’ time wit’ dat. Just drop us off at a motel, oui? We got enough cash to get a room.”
“Yeah, except that, if you’re from a different…world…” Sam hesitated over that word for only a second before continuing. “…your money probably won’t work here. It’ll be different.”
Fils de putain! Remy reached into his jacket and pulled out the first bit of money he found; a few loose dollars he’d stuffed in a pocket. With his free hand he held it out toward Sam. “Does dis look right?”
He could see the answer on Sam’s face before the man even spoke. He felt his shock. Shit. Sam held the dollar and looked down at it with raised eyebrows. Then he held it out for Dean to see, who simply swore softly and kept driving. Sam turned and handed the money back to Remy. “We’ll take you to our motel room. He can rest there and maybe you can explain what exactly is going on here.”
If only it were that simple. Remy pulled Spencer in a little closer, more for the reassuring feel of him against him than anything else. What the hell was going on here? What exactly had happened to them? And how were they going to fix it? Those questions rattled around in his brain. By sheer will he forced them back. They could be dealt with soon enough. Right now, nothing was more important than the man held against him. He had Spencer back once more and no matter where they were or what was going on, he was going to make sure his partner was okay. Then they would figure out what to do next—together. The way it was meant to be.
By the time they pulled into the hotel, Spencer was slowly starting to stir once more. He managed enough strength that, with the help of Remy, he actually climbed out of the car and stood on his own two feet. Granted, Remy was supporting almost all of his weight. But he was standing! In a move that was far too practiced, Remy put his arm around Spencer and the young genius put his arm around Remy and held his opposite shoulder as support. Like that, they managed to walk together without it looking like Remy was dragging him. They were also lucky that the motel room was close to the door so he only had to go a short distance.
Sam opened the door and pointed toward a bed once inside. “Put him down there.”
Wasting no time, Remy hurried him over there, less concerned about appearances now that they were out of view of anyone else. In no time at all he had Spencer lying down on the bed. The brothers stayed back out of the way and just watched as Remy ran a quick check over his mostly unconscious partner. What he found had him relaxing just a bit. Spencer was a bit bruised, a bit scraped up, but no worse than any other fight they’d had. He’d been right earlier when he’d noticed Spencer cradling his stomach. There were some pretty good bruises there that would make him sore for a little while. Nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. It was the energy loss that was really the problem here. The minute Remy had taken out Spencer's contacts, putting them in the little container that he kept in his coat—Spencer always laughed at that, but with as often as he forgot his contacts container, it was a good plan to have a backup—he pulled back one of his eyelids and looked at the muted sparks in those electric eyes and he knew what he was dealing with and why Spencer was knocked out the way he was. He’d used too much of his energy and had drained himself.
Whatever had sent them here had happened when his, Spencer's, and Sinister’s energy had all connected. Because Spencer's energy was connected to him, the electricity had probably worked like a conduit straight back to the mutant, drawing on the energy inside of him. It would explain why he was drained and why this thing that had happened had brought him and Spencer to wherever the hell they were. The energy blast must’ve fed back into Spencer, and since he was touching Remy at the time, it had taken him along for the ride as well. Remy filed all that away in his head to talk over with Spencer once his partner was awake. While Remy had more smarts than many people gave him credit for, this really was more Spencer's field than his.
Though he didn’t like seeing Spencer so depleted, he at least knew how to treat this and knew that, if they were careful, it wasn’t serious. Unfortunately, now that Spencer was taken care of, that left Remy with these two strangers, and they were all eyes on him. They were both sitting on the bed opposite him, so Remy shifted so that he was sitting by Spencer's hip, angled toward the two of them. He was the one to break the silence. “Imagine y’ got a few questions.”
“You could say that.” Dean said. He braced his arms on his knees and folded his hands together. “For starters, who are you guys?”
That wasn’t as easy of a question as they might’ve thought it was. Usually he wouldn’t have dreamed of giving out their names to strangers. Not in a strange situation like this. But was there any choice? If they’d been sent to a different world—and what did it say about his life so far that traveling to an alternate universe wasn’t at all strange—having two people who could help them out would be a great thing. Maybe these two could even help them get back home. They seemed to do okay with the whole ‘magic’ thing, if the way they’d killed those things he’d heard them call vampires was anything to go by. Remy kept a cautious eye on them and he kept his worries on the inside. On the outside, he wore one of his usual masks, making himself look far more relaxed than he felt. “Already told y’. M’ name’s Remy. Dis here is Spencer. Or, Gambit and Volt, as others know us sometimes. Who’re de two of y’?” He didn’t mention that he’d already heard them use each other’s names.
Sam fielded that question. “I’m Sam and this is my brother Dean.” He paused and then something crossed his face, a look that reminded him a little of Spencer with some new information, a sort of stunned awe. “Are you telling us that you’re really Remy LeBeau? Like, Gambit, fighter in the X-Men, Prince of the Thieves Guild, the Ragin’ Cajun?”
Well, hell. One of Remy’s eyebrows arched up. Things just kept getting weirder and weirder. “Oui, dat’s moi. Are y’ tellin’ Remy dat all of dis is really in a comic? A damn comic? Like…f’ entertainment?”
“Well, the X-Men are. Remy…you…are one of the main characters on the team. There are even movies and cartoons.”
Movies and cartoons? Remy stared at him for a moment. Then he couldn’t stop himself. He rocked back slightly on the bed and let out a laugh. Of all the places in the universes, he and Spencer had somehow managed to end up in a place that apparently had him as a comic book character! And in movies and TV! Man, when they got back home, he couldn’t wait to tell Logan! That thought had him grinning even more. His eyes shone with good humor when he looked back at Sam. “Y’ got any of dem? Remy’s gotta see dis, f’sure. Wolvie aint gonna believe dis.”
“Why don’t we figure this out first? Then you two can geek out over comics.” Dean cut in, looking and sounding a bit exasperated with them. Huh. Short-tempered guy. His low, growly voice reminded Remy just a little bit of Logan, as did the impatient way he looked at them as he said “We need to figure out how you got out of a comic and into the real world.”
Well that was easy enough. “A portal. Least, dat’s de only logical explanation.” With a shrug, Remy leaned back on one arm, stealing a quick look at Spencer as he did. “Dere was a bright light and a pressure and den it felt like we was flying and den Remy woke up here feeling like he’d drank de entire bar. In a world we apparently don’t exist in, oui? Don’t t’ink we came out of de comic, anyways. Different dimensions always have a connection to one another. Dis must be de connection to dis one.”
“Like the Age of Apocalypse series. Or with New Sun.” Sam supplied. He caught the look from his brother and rolled his eyes in a way that told Remy clearly that Sam was the little brother here. The look he wore was pure petulant little brother, going perfectly with Dean’s amused and smug big brother look. “Shut up, Dean.” Before Dean could argue with him, Sam looked back at Remy. “So you’re saying that you’re not a comic book come to life, but a traveler from another dimension? That’s strange, even for our life.”
Remy shrugged casually. “Y’ get used to de strange, homme. Y’r world don’t seem easy, neither. Dem was de strangest vampires Remy ever seen back dere, and y’all just fought like it was nothing.”
“It’s our job.” Sam gave a half smile, leaning forward and mimicking Dean’s posture almost absently. “We’re Hunters.”
With a roll of his eyes, Dean pushed off the bed and moved over toward the mini fridge. “Yeah, our job. The pay’s crap and no one really knows what we do, but we do it anyways.”
“People don’t know what it is y’ do?” Remy asked.
Sam shook his head. “No. Most people don’t even know these kinds of things exist. Vampires, werewolves, rugaru, wendigo—they’re all make believe to the rest of world.”
“Dat’s typical. People generally don’t wanna believe dese t’ings is real. Like de tourists dat come to Mardi Gras and buy demselves some gris-gris, t’inking it’s all fun and games, till suddenly dey find demselves causing more trouble dan dey ever could know. Couillon.” He shrugged philosophically. People were the same all over, it seemed. No matter which dimension they were in. Then something struck Remy and he couldn’t help but grin at the two. “So, basically, y’r de X-Men f’ dis dimension, oui? Only y’ aint got y’r own powers to fight wit’.”
“We don’t have powers…but we know people that do.” Sam said the last part slowly, as if the realization was just hitting him. He turned himself to face his brother. “Maybe we should call in some backup.”
Dean’s face looked pinched for a moment. He opened the beer he’d taken from the mini fridge and took a long pull off of it. “Yeah, probably. Which one?”
“Both?” Sam suggested.
Watching the two, Remy felt his body tensing. What the hell were they doing? Who were they planning on calling in? Voice a little sharp, he didn’t hesitate to ask just that. “Who’re y’ calling?”
The brothers exchanged a speaking look and Remy finally got why people could get so frustrated with the silent conversations he and Spencer had. Whatever the two were saying to one another with the eyebrow twitches, the head tilts and the quirks of their lips. A whole language written out on their faces that only the two of them understood. The two seemed to come to a decision and Sam sighed before he pushed up off the bed. He moved over to join Dean by the mini fridge, grabbing a beer of his own and holding one up in offer to Remy, who shook his head. Only when he had his beer open and was standing beside his brother did Sam speak again. “We’re going to call in some…friends of ours who might have the mojo to be able to figure out what happened and maybe help get you guys home.”
The use of the word ‘mojo’ was a pretty big clue. Remy had grown up in New Orleans. There was a lot he knew about that others in the world might not. So hearing the word ‘mojo’ had him instantly cautious of what might be coming their way. It had him phrasing his next question just a little different than he might have otherwise. “What are dey?” Not ‘who’, but ‘what’.
“Angels.” Sam said.
Stunned, Remy just stared. What the hell kind of world had they landed in?