Cassie Blake (tempestquill) wrote in cassidy_love,
Cassie Blake

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Fic: Devil's Trap (Cassidy/Veronica) PG-13

Title: Devil's Trap
Author: Tempestquill/Cassie
Characters: Cassidy/Veronica, Keith, Logan, Dick, Mac, John Winchester
Word Count: 4,759
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Language, Adult Theme/Content, Necrophelia (GHOST LOVING), AU, crack!fic
Summary: She startles at the cool, familiar touch. His hand slips up the back of her shirt, his fingers gently tracing patterns along her spine as they gather in her warmth. A broken sob escapes her throat and she squeezes her eyes shut, repeating over and over in her head that this isn’t real, that he’s not here.
Disclaimer: Veronica Mars belongs to Rob Thomas. Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke.
Spoilers: Up to and including 2x22 and a general knowledge of Supernatural.
Notes: This story was written as a sequel to my fic Dance with the Devil because Lissa said it couldn't be done. It's my first crossover and is now part 2 in a trilogy, my Devil trilogy. The next upcoming story in this series is "The Devil His Due" and will include more crossovery goodness with the boys of Supernatural!

Lissa also beta read this, and she squeed to her little dark heart's content because this far surpassed her expectations or so she told me! She practically crushed me with a hug when she realized I was crossing this over with Supernatural! I thought I was in for another trip to the hospital! So enjoy and don't forget to review as this is totally my first crossover EVER! Enjoy the crack!fic!

“Devil’s Trap”
By C.K. Blake

His words still haunt her.

“Remember this isn’t cheating on your precious boyfriend if this is all just some messed up dream.”

She swallows thickly as she looks at the thing in her hand, and closes her eyes in defeat, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes. She hates that he was right.

She softly repeats his words as she opens her eyes. “You should know by now that when you dance with the devil, the devil doesn’t change, he changes you.”

She drops the test into the trashcan, braces her hands on the sink and looks into the mirror. Her eyes are red and have dark circles beneath them, her face is blotchy, and her hair is wild and unkempt from running her hands through it while waiting on the test results.

She turns on the faucet, washes her hands and then splashes her face with cold water. This is wrong, it shouldn’t be happening. It was supposed to end six months ago when Cassidy Casablancas did a swan dive off of the Neptune Grand.

She should be happy, content, free from all the emotional baggage and rebuilding her life and relationship with Logan, enjoying her college years. Of course that is a fairy tale and Veronica Mars knows a thing or two about fairy tales, they just aren’t in the cards for her. Instead she is six weeks pregnant with a dead man’s baby. Is he even a man anymore? Maybe demon or devil is a better word for what he is.

She knows without a doubt who the father is, and she wishes that she didn’t.

She walks out of the bathroom, not caring if her Dad finds the test. It doesn’t matter anymore. Life as she knows it is over. He’s seen to that. He lied to her, said it wasn’t real, said he was just something in her head, convinced her that she was redeeming him and saving herself. What a joke. The devil’s forked tongue is sickly sweet. She shakes her head with a snort. She should know better.

She slips into her room and quietly closes the door behind her. She makes it to her bed, collapses onto it and curls up. Her hands somehow find their way to her flat stomach and she wonders how this could have happened. She wonders when she will get bigger and start to show. She wonders how long she will have to wait before she sees the disappointment in her father’s eyes and breaks Logan’s heart.

She startles at the cool, familiar touch. His hand slips up the back of her shirt, his fingers gently tracing patterns along her spine as they gather in her warmth. A broken sob escapes her throat and she squeezes her eyes shut, repeating over and over in her head that this isn’t real, that he’s not here.

“Go away,” she cries out, and she hates that her voice sounds so broken, but it’s like waking up after Shelley Pomroy’s party all over again.

“Why?” he asks, and she can feel the coolness of his breath against her ear as he pushes her hair back. “I’m corporeal because you need me right now, Veronica. What is it? What’s wrong? You need to fight today? No tender kisses, no dancing, no fucking? Fine. Hit me if that’s what you need. Just stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re not this pathetic shell so suck it up already. Be a bitch, you’re good at that.”

“It’s none of your damn business, now just go away,” she grinds out.

He shakes his head. “You need me whether you admit it or not. I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but I can’t just leave you! I’m always here, watching you, and I can make myself visible, but I’m only corporeal when you need me, like now. Don’t just tell me to go away when you’re the whole fucking reason I’m even here in the first place. What in the hell is wrong with you?”

Her eyes are burning within the depth of her tears and Cassidy is afraid for the first time since his death, because he knows this is serious. Her words are cold and shake him to the very core of his soul. “I’m pregnant.”

He processes this statement, goes over the various possibilities in his head, and keeps coming to the same conclusion. What the fuck? Why is she telling him about this? She should be telling the father not him. Unless… But that couldn’t be. He’s been dead for six months, and this is a recent development.

“When are you going to tell Logan?” he asks, and he’s surprised that his voice is so calm, so neutral.

Her eyes widen as she stares at him in disbelief. “I can’t tell him this!”

“And why not? He has a right to know about his kid. God, it’s not like we had anything special. You just give me physical form whenever you need a good lay or somebody to hit. There isn’t a relationship between us Veronica. This is just some really messed up form of dealing,” he snaps, and he wishes he could take it back because the pain is evident in his voice.

“Because I’m not sure that it’s his,” she replies and she’s hysterical.

Cassidy’s eyes widen. “Then whose else could it be?”

She gives him a pointed look, and the air rushes out of him in a single exhalation, funny how he suddenly remembers how to breathe around her only to have her knock the wind right out of him.

“And how is that even possible?” he says, his hands running through his hair and then smoothing down the light blue oxford shirt that he’s wearing, and then his hand is at his collar, and he’s staring at her in shock.

“I don’t know, but I have to find out. I mean… God I don’t know anymore,” she says with a whimper.

He finds his way back to her bed and wraps his arms around her, because she’s the warmth to his cold, and she needs to be held. She gives a little shiver before she buries her face against his shoulder and her tears burn him as they seep through the thin fabric of his shirt.

He runs his hand through her hair, whispers soothing things into her ear, and when she finally calms down enough to listen he hits her with an idea.

“If you don’t want Logan to know, then ask Dick for a paternity test. He’s my closest living relative. When you go to him just reach out for me, need me, and I’ll be there. I’ll be there with you and he’ll agree to do it, I know he will.”


It has taken her four weeks to actually work up the nerve to do this. Four weeks of Cassidy’s encouragement and waiting for Logan to leave Dick alone in the suite. This would be so much easier if Dick still lived in the frat house, but no, he’s back to rooming with his BFF, her soon to be ex-boyfriend.

She takes in a deep breath and feels a firm squeeze on her shoulder. She can’t see the hand there, but she knows who it belongs to, and it actually helps her with the fluttering in her stomach. She knocks on the door, because using the card key doesn’t seem right anymore.

There is a lot of cursing and growling on the other side of the door, and then it is being yanked open and she is presented with an image she could have done without. Dick is in nothing but a pair of boxers, his hair all unkempt, and his lips swollen from kisses.

He rolls his eyes as he looks at her and says, “Look Ronnie, your booty call buddy is out getting shit faced because you haven’t been returning his calls. So go do that junior detective thing of yours and find him yourself. I’m busy.”

She takes in a deep breath to remain calm, because yelling at him this early in the game is not exactly going to help her case. She has to reserve her strength for yelling at him five minutes from now. She pushes past him and steps into the room. She looks around and sees clothing strewn about everywhere and notices the door to Dick’s bedroom is ajar.

“I’m not here about Logan. I actually came to see you and ask for a favor,” she says and she’s amazed that her voice is steady. The invisible hand on her shoulder tightens.

“And what kind of favor could you possibly need from me, cause dude, I’m so not spying on my best buddy for you.”

“This isn’t about Logan, Dick! I need you to show up at the family clinic tomorrow for a paternity test okay?” she snaps, because her patience has disintegrated.

His mouth falls open and his eyes widen as he stares at her for a few minutes in disbelief. “Say what?” he finally yells. “And who the hell is the mother to be exactly?!”

“That would be me,” Veronica says softly and she begins to sway on her feet.

Her eyes flutter shut, and Dick isn’t fast enough to catch her, but she never hits the floor. Something catches her, and she’s hovering over the floor for a moment before she’s carried over to the couch by some invisible force, and by this time Mac has come out of Dick’s bedroom, wearing her cargo pants and one of his ridiculous shirts.

They both watch in amazement as Veronica is placed gently on the couch, and they see her hair being brushed back from her face. A minute of so later she shifts her head and her eyes begin to flutter open and she calls out a single name that sends a shudder up both Dick and Mac’s spine.

“Cassidy,” she says, and her voice is so small, so unlike the Veronica Mars that they know.

Mac takes a few steps toward the couch, wondering why Veronica would want Dick to do a paternity test and why she would call out his name. She nearly trips over someone or something and that is when she sees a hand suddenly materialize out of thin air. A very familiar hand that is gently kneading Veronica’s shoulder, and then she hears his voice.

“Veronica, you know you should sit down when you get dizzy like that. Need anything? Soda? Trashcan? Pickles and peanut butter?” he asks, and his voice is so soft, so tender with concern.

“Beaver?” Dick asks, and Mac turns around just in time to see Dick collapse to his knees, his eyes wide in shock at the sight of his younger brother.

In all honesty Mac is surprised that she’s holding it together so well.

Cassidy looks from his older brother to Mac, and his eyes widen for a moment as he realizes that they are together. He can’t really say he’s all that surprised. He saw the signs of something like this happening, but it still stings that he has to see it now.

“So how long have you two been…” he trails off and makes a wild gesture with his hands.

Mac takes a few steps back, her brain working frantically for something to say, but nothing is coming to mind.

“For a couple of months now, and why does it matter to you bro? You’re like dead, remember? And what in the hell are you doing here and why would Ronnie be asking me for a paternity test? What the fuck, dude?” Dick pipes up.

By this time Veronica is fully coming around, and speaks up, “Because I’m pregnant, and I don’t think Logan is the father, and Cassidy can’t exactly give a sample at the clinic tomorrow considering he’s been dead for the last six months.”

Veronica regrets her words when she realizes that Mac is in the room. “Oh my God, Mac, I didn’t… I… I’m sorry.”

Mac’s face has drained of color and she looks from her friend to her dead boyfriend and wonders just how much worse things could get.

She shakes her head. “No, I’m fine. Just…um, well… How exactly did this happen? And why you, Veronica?”

“Because you were moving on Cindy. She wasn’t. She needed me, could see me, make me breathe, and I could touch her. You and Dick just walked right through me, never even realized when I was there,” he answered softly, his eyes wide and sad, the way they were when he’d been alive.

Mac begins to shake and her legs threaten to fold beneath her when she’s suddenly pulled back against a strong chest, and she’s grateful for Dick, because she doesn’t know if she could face this alone. She notices how Cassidy glances between her and Veronica and it’s suddenly clear.

“You’re in love with her aren’t you? And it’s yours, but how? You’re dead, how can it be yours?” she whispers and Dick’s arms tighten around her.

Before another word can be said the door of the suite opens, and everyone turns to see Logan Echolls walk in.

Logan looks at the scene, taking in a traumatized looking Mac in the arms of Dick, and then he notices Veronica laying on the couch with someone kneeling next to her, and that someone looks almost exactly like Cassidy Casablancas, but it can’t be, and why in the hell is ghost boy practically holding HIS girlfriend?

“What the fuck is going on here? Veronica, are you all right and who the hell is this freak?” Logan snaps.

Veronica stares at him, horror written on her face, and Dick is the one that breaks the silence.

“Dude, your girlfriend got all freaky teaky with my dead brother, and now she’s all Rosemary’s Baby and wants me to take a paternity test to prove that Beav is the daddy to be.”

That declaration is followed by the sharp sound of Mac’s palm across Dick’s face followed by his bedroom door being slammed and locked, leaving Veronica and Cassidy facing a stunned Dick and a very pissed off Logan.

“Christ Veronica! He’s dead! How could this happen? How is he even here, and you’re pregnant? How far along, and couldn’t it occur to you that I’m probably the father, considering how I have a pulse and all, or am I so fucked up that you would rather fuck a DEAD MASS MURDERING RAPIST and call him Daddy, than have me be the father!?”

“Two months Logan, that’s how I know it’s not yours,” she says quietly, and he looks as though he’s just been slapped.

He heads straight for the wet bar, pulls out a bottle of scotch, pours himself a glass, downs it, throws the glass against the wall and just tilts the bottle back for a good healthy swig. He then shifts his gaze to Veronica and Ghost Boy and knocks the bottle back again for good measure. A minute later Dick joins him at the bar and makes a grab for the vodka, because he’ll be damned if he faces Mac after all of this and be sober.


Keith Mars’ eyes widen as he looks down at the large envelope addressed to his daughter. It’s in an envelope that looks familiar. He remembers when he received a similar envelope that told him his daughter was really his daughter. He closes his eyes as he slips into the apartment and he settles in his favorite easy chair, the chair that faces the door, and he waits.

He doesn’t know how long he waits, but it’s dark by the time Veronica gets home. She slips through the front door and he reaches out and flicks on the lamp. She looks at him with a start, and he’s struggling with the envelope clutched in his hand.

“You got mail today,” he says simply, and he sees the fear in her eyes as her gaze turns to the large envelope in his hand, and he continues, his voice hard as he fights against revealing his concerns and suspicions. “Mind telling me what this is about Veronica? I thought we said no more secrets.”

“Dad,” she begins, and her voice is shaking and he knows she’s on the verge of crying, but he still can’t help the shock he feels at the sight of the tears slipping down her cheeks as she takes the envelope from him in trembling fingers.

She rips it open and pulls out a single sheet. She gasps, her hand goes to cover her mouth and the paper flutters to the floor. Keith can’t take it. He bends down and picks it up. His eyes widen as he realizes that it’s a paternity test, like he suspected, but the potential father tested is Richard Harrison Casablancas Jr. He is not the father, but has been determined a biological relative.

“What is this Veronica?” he asks, and he’s struggling to contain the worry, fear, pain, anger.

She looks up at him and the tears spill faster as she lets out a pained noise and then says, “I’m sorry Daddy.”

“Oh my God,” he says and then swallows thickly. “Who is the father? I take it that it’s not Logan if Dick Casablancas is a close match. So who? Who could it possibly be, because the only other Casablancas I know would be Dick’s father. And how far along are you?”

“Twelve weeks, Daddy, and there is one other Casablancas,” she whispers.

“What? Who?”

“Cassidy,” is her reply.

Keith nearly chokes. “You expect me to believe that the father of your baby is a boy who has been dead for over sixth months? You’ve got to do better than that Kiddo, because that is just…! You can tell me the truth. Stop keeping things from me! My God, you tell me I’m going to be a grandfather, but you won’t tell me how this happened, and who did this to you! WHY?!”

“I thought it was a dream, and he just came to me. He was so cold when he touched me and then he got warm, and… I didn’t think it was real, and Logan hates me, and Mac, and Dick doesn’t know what he’s doing, and he’s all I have, him and the baby. I don’t know how this happened, it just did. I never asked for it, never wanted it, not after the things he did, but I had to take back control. He took so much from me. I wanted to take it back,” she says, and her voice is raw with pain, and trying to make her father understand.

“Quit lying to me!” Keith yells, and his hands are firm on his daughter’s shoulders and he’s struggling against the impulse to shake her.

Suddenly he’s pulled to his feet and thrown across the room, and she’s screaming. When he gets his bearings back after hitting the wall he focuses on his daughter who is looking at him, her eyes full of shame and sorrow, and he watches in amazement as something shimmers in the air and then there’s a familiar looking boy holding Veronica against him, his arms around her waist, and that boy, Cassidy Casablancas looks up and cold, fierce, warning blue eyes glare darkly at Keith.

“She isn’t lying Mr. Mars,” he replies, and his voice sends a chill down his spine.


The tingling at the back of his neck is an old and familiar itch. He draws his gun, a glock, an old friend. It’s loaded with special rock salt rounds, and he positions himself next to the door and then pushes it open. He waits a moment and points the gun into the room followed by his head for a quick glance.

He lowers the gun and lets out a breath as he enters the room. It takes a hell of a man to track down, let alone surprise, John Winchester. He steps into the motel room, careful to step over the salt line at the threshold. He can’t help returning the grin as he sees the short balding man sitting in a chair next to the loan table in the room, by the air conditioning unit.

“I have to admit Mr. Winchester, you are a difficult man to track,” he says.

John chuckles. “You’re part blood hound Keith, I swear. It’s John, and it’s good seeing you, though how in the hell you found me when my own boys can’t I’ll never figure out.”

Keith shrugs. “Its just part of the job.”

“Since when do small town sheriff’s hit the road to track down demon hunters?” John asks pointedly.

“I’m a private detective now, and I came to ask if you were still up to that favor you owe me,” Keith replies.

“Thought you didn’t believe in spooks as you put it. What’s changed your mind? I took care of that serial strangler. Remember you mysteriously lost that file concerning the case of the vandalism in the cemetery. Burned and salted the bones, and left town just like you asked, although my boy Sammy sure did miss that little girl of yours. Hey, how is Veronica?” John asks.

He notices the change in Keith and it hits him. This is personal and it has something to do with Keith’s daughter. If he remembers anything about Keith Mars, it’s that the man loves his daughter with every fiber of his being and would do anything for her.

“What’s going on, Keith? Why did you come all this way to find me?”

“It’s Veronica,” Keith says, and his voice is filled with regret and defeat, and that is something John never would have thought he’d hear from this proud man. “She’s pregnant.”

“Okay, and why would you need to find me for that? I deal in the supernatural. I’m not a doctor.”

“She’s fourteen weeks pregnant now. It’s taken me two weeks to track you down, and she doesn’t want an abortion though I’ve begged her to get one, and I think this might be your thing, John.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. Why do you think this is my territory?”

“Because the father of her baby has been dead for six months. I didn’t believe it, but the closest DNA match is Richard Casablancas Junior, and his little brother Cassidy is the father. I’ve seen him John. He materialized behind my baby girl and he’s real. He can touch her, hold her, kiss her. I have a ghost living in my apartment with my daughter, and I don’t know what to do. The kid was trouble when he was alive. He blew up a bus with eight people on it, ran over a man and threw his body off of a cliff, blew up a plane with the former mayor of Neptune on it. I was almost on that plane, and he raped my daughter nearly three years ago. How is this even possible?”

“I could salt and burn his bones, but the baby probably wouldn’t go away, and I’m still not a hundred percent on how he could possibly manifest physically, unless…” John trails, unable to finish the though.

“Unless what?” Keith prompts.

“He had to be called to her. She would have to be tied closely to him, and need him to make him manifest like that, but that still doesn’t explain the baby.”

“And about the bones. Cassidy was cremated.”

“What? Then that means that he wasn’t entirely human to begin with. Not if he can come back after being cremated. What do you know about his family?” John asks.

Keith shrugs. “They’re one of the wealthiest in Neptune. His father fled to the Cayman Islands after being busted on Real Estate fraud, his brother is a drunk, video game addicted asshole. The usual rich kid scenario with the exception of the abuse he endured as a child. His little league coach molested him.”

“My guess is that one of his parents was a demon. From the sounds of him having copulated with your daughter, most likely he is the result of either an incubus or a succubus.”

“Big Dick is completely human. So it’s probably his mother. Maybe he and Little Dick are only half brothers.”

“Are their names seriously Dick?” John asks, trying to hide a smirk.

“That’s what they go by, but that is beside the point. My daughter is pregnant with a dead man’s child.”

“I got that part Keith. I’ll have to make a few calls, but I need to know what you want. What Veronica wants. I could probably kill him, which probably seems redundant to you, but it would take him out of her life. Or I could go along with something that an old friend of mine told me recently.”

“Quit with the cryptic bullshit and just tell me already.”

“Patience isn’t a virtue I have much faith in either,” John replies and his dark eyes lock with Keith’s intent gaze, and he scratches his salt and pepper beard for a moment before he replies, “I could use his inherent demonic energy to bring him back, and give him a second chance at life. It’s only been done a few times. I’ve never done it before myself. Usually I kill the things that go bump in the night, but this kid was kind of human once. If you decide to go this route he would be human again.”

“I…” Keith begins, and then shakes his head. “What about Veronica and the baby? Would this pregnancy be dangerous for her?”

John looks to the floor, and the hand scratching his beard shifts to run through his hair. “I’ll be honest with you Keith. Supernatural pregnancies are tricky, but she’s probably smart in not going with an abortion. The child inside of her is protected against abortive action, as is the case in most pregnancies of this nature. She’ll have to ride this one out, but the birth itself will probably end up looking like an exorcism. I remember when my Mary gave birth to Dean and to Sammy. It was mostly Sammy. The process was difficult, but over with quickly. Your girl always did seem strong. She’ll most likely survive. The infants in these cases tend to grow attached to their mothers and the protection extends to the mother as well, but it would still take a toll on her body, more so than a normal delivery would.”

“What are you saying?” Keith’s voice is laced with worry.

“She won’t die, but I’ve seen other woman in similar situations. Without someone to help pull her out of this she could end up in a coma for a very long time. Human bodies are fragile and her body would need a long time to recover unless there was someone there who could connect to her and provide her with the right energy she would need to recover more quickly. Those abilities come from demons that evolve into humans, they come from the father of the child.”

“So you’re saying that keeping Cassidy around and giving him a more permanent physical form would ensure Veronica’s survival and health?”

John feels for his almost friend as he sees the man torn in indecision.

“This is a tough decision to make. Like I said I need to make a few calls, but I’ll see what I can do, and when she goes into labor I’ll leave you with a number to call. You’d be better off not taking her to the hospital during the labor, it would be kind of hard to explain.”

Keith nods stiffly. “This is your field. I’ll trust your judgment. Call me crazy, but vandalizing graves aside, you’re a good man for what you do, John Winchester. A damn good man.”

John gives a stiff nod and watches as Keith gets up and walks out of his motel room, careful to step over the salt line. John understands the weight that presses down on Keith’s shoulders. He’s felt a similar weight for the last twenty-two years, since the night he lost his wife and his children lost all hope of a normal childhood. It’s the weight a father bears when circumstance is out of their control and their children suffer for it, and nothing can be done to prevent it. There is just weathering the storm and praying that the consequences can be dealt with.


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