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lunabee34Title: Through the Rabbit Hole
Fandom: SPN/SGA crossover
Pairing: Gen
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word Count: 3,341
This is set in the third season of SGA sometime before Carson dies and in the second season of SPN.
Rodney
Rodney grabs his suitcase off the back seat of the rental car and then walks through the hotel parking garage at a fast clip. He’s only been on Earth for thirty five hours but he’s more than ready to Gate hop his way back to Atlantis. Delivering Brendan Gaul’s only declassified paper to a completely full and completely transfixed MIT auditorium was either an incredibly meaningful gesture or an exercise in extreme masochism. Rodney can’t decide. The four hours of sleep he’ll be lucky to get before his flight leaves for Colorado probably won’t settle the question.
A noise echoes off the concrete somewhere behind him and when Rodney turns to look, a woman is leaning against a Ford Bronco and smiling at him. She’s attractive, Rodney supposes, in an underfed and underclothed sort of way, but he hasn’t seen anything like the smile on her face since Kolya decided to use him as his own personal whetstone. She lunges for him suddenly, more quickly than Rodney expects, her mouth opening and revealing a set of exceedingly inhuman teeth.
Rodney drops his suitcase and draws his sidearm, terribly grateful that Sheppard didn’t even smirk when Rodney told him he didn’t feel comfortable gallivanting all over the US of A unarmed. He simply nodded and in the next databurst to Earth requested a permit for Rodney to carry a concealed weapon. Gun or no gun, Rodney would feel much better sandwiched between Ronon and Teyla with Sheppard on point, but Rodney’s used to disappointment.
In the instant before Rodney would fire, an arrow zips by his left ear and lodges in the woman’s chest. She immediately vaults over the side of the garage and Rodney whirls to find a couple of kids with crossbows on his six. Well, not really kids. They’re as old as some of the Marines on Atlantis, as old as Cadman is or Ford had been, and Rodney has got to stop thinking of the people who save his ass on a regular basis as children. He trains the gun on the taller one and they both lower their crossbows, spreading their arms wide and showing him their palms.
“What the hell just happened?” Rodney asks, silently calculating the odds of assault by hooligans with primitive weaponry on this side of the Stargate and concluding once again that the universe hates him.
The one who reminds him a little of Sheppard—that lazy way the colonel seems to slouch inside his own skin, that little grin he wears like a mask—answers Rodney. “You’re welcome,” he says.
“Dean!” the taller one hisses before turning to Rodney with a face so laughably earnest that Rodney suspects the furrow in his young brow will begin eating into his brain sometime in the next decade. “I’m Sam and this is my brother Dean. I know this is difficult to believe, but the woman who attacked you is a vampire.”
When Rodney doesn’t speak, Sam continues. “We don’t think the attack was random either. We think you’re her target and we don’t think she’s acting alone. You have to let us help you, man.”
There’s no such thing as vampires, Rodney thinks but then remembers that there’s no such thing as aliens and intergalactic spaceships either. He looks at the woman’s blood drying in a sticky black parabola on the pavement and makes up his mind. “Okay.”
The two exchange glances, clearly not expecting Rodney to get with the program without a hell of a lot more convincing.
“That’s it? Okay?” Dean says.
Rodney shrugs. “Okay.” He flips open his cell phone and makes the call. “Get me General Landry.”
Dean
“Why’d you tell him you have visions? And move things with your mind?” Dean whispers. “Now we’re a gillion miles underground in a military compound that technically doesn’t even exist and this ain’t Green River, Sam. We got nobody on the inside here. If shit goes south, we are so screwed.”
“We’re not screwed, Dean. I can’t explain it, but I trust this guy.”
Dean shakes his head. “You gotta be kidding me, Sammy.”
Across the room, Dr. McKay—Rodney—is trying to flirt with some hot blonde and getting shot down spectacularly. Dean doesn’t blame the chick; that shit is painful to watch, much less endure yourself. Dean would write the guy off as a loser except he’d handled his gun like he knew what he was doing with it and he didn’t freak when they told him the truth about the supernatural. Of course, Dean thinks he’d like Rodney much better if twenty minutes after that revelation Dean hadn’t found himself squished into the window seat of a helicopter and hyperventilating into a paper bag.
The other doctor, the one who drew their blood and scanned their brains and whipped out every instrument except the anal probe, looks up from his microscope. “You’ll never believe what I found in the blood sample of the woman who attacked you, Rodney.” The doctor frowns and his accent—Scottish, Dean thinks—grows thicker. “Wraith DNA.”
“What?” Rodney says. “How is that possible?”
“Excuse me,” Dean says. “Little out of the loop here. What’s a Wraith?”
Rodney answers, his hands moving in distracted circles as he speaks. “Wraith are aliens from the Pegasus galaxy. They kill humans by draining them of their energy in much the same way I’m assuming vampires drain humans of blood.”
“Oh,” Dean says. He looks at Sam and makes the universal sign for “this guy is fucking nuts.”
“Please,” Rodney says. “You expect me to believe in vampires but you can’t fathom aliens?”
Hot Blonde looks up from her turn at the microscope. “It makes a horrific kind of sense, doesn’t it? Most of Earth’s theology is based on alien intervention. The Egyptian gods were really the Goa’uld. The Asgard masqueraded as the Norse gods. Jesus was probably from outer space, too. So if our higher powers are actually aliens, why not our monsters?”
Suddenly Dean feels like the mountain is squeezing down on him. He doesn’t know who these people are or if they can be trusted and they spout off the impossible like it’s nothing, like it’s indisputable fact. Dean knows there are things in this world that most people would never believe, but what he’s heard today is out there, even for a hunter. And if by some miracle what these people say is true, Dean’s not sure he’s ready to know it.
“That’s not all I found,” the doctor says, interrupting Dean’s freakout. He points at Sam. “This young man has the highest concentration of the ATA gene I’ve ever seen.”
Dean’s about to ask what ATA means, when he glances at Sam. Sam shakes his head and clenches his jaw. His eyes go a little wild and Dean can tell Sam’s scared. Sam is different; Dean knows that, but Sam isn’t evil and no way in hell is Dean gonna let these people tell his little brother otherwise. “I always knew you were a genetic freak,” Dean says and shoves his hand in his pocket where his knife used to be.
Sam Carter
“Why do you think Rodney was targeted by the vampire?” Sam asks.
Dean crosses his arms. “I don’t know. You’d have to ask my brother. He’s the psychic wonder.”
Sam sighs. Dean Winchester could give General O’Neill a run for his money in the stubborn department. She realizes that the kind of life Dean and his brother have led isn’t especially conducive to trusting strangers, but the potential presence of Wraith on Earth is a matter of global security and time may be a factor. “I’m asking you.”
Dean grins and Sam can tell that he’s used to getting his way with women. “Let me ask you something, Colonel Carter,” he says, leaning in and shifting his hips, letting his legs fall open a little more in the chair.
Sam almost rolls her eyes but catches herself just in time. “Alright,” she says. “Ask away.”
“What’s the ATA gene?” Dean says.
He’s one of the best con artists Sam has ever seen; his breathing doesn’t change and his smile stays genuine and charming as he asks the question. But somehow Sam knows Dean is afraid. Maybe all the time Jolinar spent as a spy has given Sam a better understanding of the ways people lie. Or maybe her own field experience has enhanced her ability to read people. Whatever the cause and despite Dean’s obvious skill at subterfuge, Sam can tell that Dean is frightened. She suspects that fear is for his younger brother. Neither Winchester seemed particularly happy when General Landry ordered Sam and Teal’c to conduct their interrogations separately.
Sam says, “The ATA gene allows the bearer to operate Ancient technology. Most Ancient technology is coded to respond only to a certain genetic imprint in order to prevent what the Ancients considered hostile forces from using it. The gene is nothing harmful or dangerous and your brother would likely have never known he carries the gene if Dr. Beckett hadn’t tested his blood for its presence.”
Sam watches Dean assess this information, watches him decide not to ask her who the Ancients are or what kind of technology they created. The change is miniscule, almost imperceptible, but something in Dean deflates and Sam knows that Dean has chosen to trust her. At least a little. At least for now.
“We’re not really sure what the vamps want with Dr. McKay. Sam’s visions don’t exactly fill in all the blanks. All we know is that Drusilla and the gang would have bled him dry if we hadn’t shown up,” Dean says. “That’s all I know, I swear.”
Sam nods. “Okay, Dean. I believe you. Three field teams are currently sweeping the Cambridge area. We’ll know what these vampires want soon enough. Now I’d like you to tell me about all the supernatural beings you and your brother have encountered and what you’ve done to defeat them.”
Dean smirks and Sam has to admit that he’s definitely cute if way too cocky for her taste. “Hope you brought the popcorn,” he says. “This is gonna take a while.”
Teal’c
Teal’c contemplates Sam Winchester in silence, mentally reviewing all he has learned about the man on the short walk from the infirmary to Conference Room D. Sam Winchester has clearly been trained as a warrior. His slouch is cultivated, a posture that belies both his watchfulness and the strength he disguises with baggy clothing. In the infirmary, neither he nor his brother sat with their backs to the entrance. When Teal’c led him down the corridor, his steps were evenly measured so that he could calculate the distance they had traveled. Most tellingly, although the soldiers in Massachusetts removed both Winchesters’ guns, a more thorough search at the SGC revealed many other weapons secreted on their bodies. Teal’c has always lived in the company of men who have suffered war; he would swear on his father’s name that Sam and Dean Winchester could say the same.
“You and your brother are wanted for many crimes on this planet,” Teal’c says.
“That’s true,” Sam Winchester says and waits for Teal’c to speak again. Teal’c appreciates that he does not offer additional information; as a result, he provides Teal’c with no unforeseen tactical advantage by inadvertently disclosing that which may be used against him. Teal’c is pleased to confront such a shrewd conversational opponent.
Before Teal’c can begin the interrogation, Dr. Beckett appears in the conference room doorway. “Sorry to interrupt,” he says. “I just wanted to ask Sam a question.”
Teal’c bows his head in assent.
“Do you recognize this item?” Dr. Beckett asks Sam Winchester. He carries on a metal surgical tray a Goa’uld healing device. Sam Winchester shakes his head no. “Are you certain you’ve never encountered a device like this one before?”
“Yes,” Sam Winchester says. “Why?”
Dr. Beckett ignores his question. “Has your brother been gravely injured in the recent past?”
Sam Winchester frowns. “Nearly a year ago we were in a car wreck and Dean almost died. Why?”
“Teal’c, may I speak with you privately for a moment?” Dr. Beckett follows Teal’c into the corridor and pulls the conference door shut behind him. “I just finished analyzing Dean’s test results. Goa’uld healing devices leave minute traces at the cellular level that gradually dissipate. At some time in the recent past, Dean had a very severe injury healed with one of these.”
Teal’c clenches his fists at his sides and breathes very deeply for the space of several heartbeats. “Then this planet has almost certainly been infiltrated by a Goa’uld.”
“Yes,” Dr. Beckett says. “I thought you should know.”
Teal’c again inclines his head and bids Dr. Beckett farewell, resolving to discover all he can from Sam Winchester. If he and his brother are in league with the Goa’uld, they must be dealt with accordingly.
Much later, when his interrogation is complete, Teal’c finds Dr. Beckett with Dr. McKay and Colonel Carter in the infirmary. “I understand that you wish to transport the Winchester brothers to Atlantis for additional testing,” he says to Dr. Beckett.
“Aye,” Dr. Beckett says. “One of the laboratories in Atlantis is devoted to research on Ascension, but the equipment cannot be removed from the lab. If the General gives me permission to take them back with us, I’d like to see what Ancient technology can tell us about Sam’s abilities. Of course, I imagine his permission depends largely on what you’ve learned in your little talk, Teal’c.”
“I have discovered that Sam Winchester’s mother was murdered when he was but a child. He believes the being that killed his mother is a demon, an evil creature that is capable of possessing a human and forcing that human to commit terrible acts against his will.”
“That sounds familiar,” Dr. McKay says.
“Indeed. I have also learned that when this demon takes a host, that host then displays one defining physical characteristic.” Teal’c pauses, enjoying his companions’ suspense.
“Oh, cut the dramatics,” Dr. McKay says and Colonel Carter smiles. “What is it?”
“Glowing yellow eyes.”
Elizabeth
Elizabeth doesn’t have a chance to speak alone with Sam until several days after the Winchesters arrive in Atlantis. Once her schedule clears, Elizabeth invites Sam to join her in her office for tea.
He sits across the desk from her, clearly uncomfortable, the teacup looking faintly ridiculous in his large hands. “Welcome to Atlantis, Sam,” she says. “I’m sorry I wasn’t available to greet you properly when you first arrived. We’ve had some issues with a trading partner that required my attention.”
Sam smiles and ducks his head. “I understand. I can’t imagine all the challenges you must face running an expedition like this.”
“Sometimes even I can’t imagine them,” Elizabeth says with a little laugh designed to put Sam at ease. Her tactic works; Sam relaxes, his grip on the armrest of the chair loosening. “I must admit that I have an ulterior motive in asking you to meet with me,” Elizabeth continues and just like that, Sam is instantly wary again.
“Oh, really?” he says politely, his face carefully neutral as he speaks.
“Yes. The people that used to live in this city, the people that we call the Ancients, were an extraordinary race. They possessed knowledge and technology that we haven’t even come close to understanding for ourselves. Thousands of years ago, the Ancients found a way to ascend to another plane of existence. We’ve had some experience with ascension at the SGC. We’ve met ascended Ancients before. Dr. Daniel Jackson ascended and Dr. McKay nearly did so as well. Unfortunately, Dr. Jackson remembers next to nothing about the time he spent as an ascended being and we were all so strongly focused on preventing Rodney from ascending that I never really had time to talk with him about the experience,” Elizabeth says. “I’d like to ask you some questions about your abilities, if I may. This is a request, not an order. You can certainly say no.”
Elizabeth waits while Sam considers what she has asked. She recognizes his expression from her years at the bargaining table. Sam is inclined to talk with her but something about her desire to question him about his abilities profoundly disturbs him and Elizabeth cannot imagine why.
Finally Sam speaks. “You think I can tell you something that might help you to ascend yourself, don’t you?”
Elizabeth is surprised. She had meant to present her interest in a purely academic light and feels embarrassed that her personal fascination with ascension was so easy for this stranger to read. “Frankly, yes,” she says.
“Dr. Weir, I don’t know anything about ascension. What I do know is that my abilities don’t feel like gifts. They feel wrong, evil even, and I’d do anything to get rid of them.”
Before Elizabeth can answer, Chuck notifies her of an unscheduled wormhole activation and the conversation is tabled for another day.
Teyla
“What do you think about the Winchesters?” John asks around a mouthful of cereal.
“Seem okay,” Ronon says. “Both good fighters.”
Rodney says, “They did save my life. I tend to find myself approving of people who save my life.”
John snorts. “What about you, Teyla? What do you think about our guests?”
“I think that in future Dean Winchester will keep his hands to himself,” she says.
Rodney slaps the table. “That’s where that bruise on his arm came from! He told me he got it sparring with Ronon.”
Ronon rolls his eyes and continues shoveling in scrambled ranthok eggs.
“I know I have been wrong in the past,” Teyla says, “but I nonetheless consider myself a good judge of character. I think that Sam and Dean are both honorable men. I cannot imagine what a burden they bear protecting your planet from a danger that most people do not believe exists. It must be such a relief to be with those among whom they can speak freely.”
Across the mess hall, Teyla can see the brothers breakfasting with Major Lorne and Dr. Zelenka. Dean is chewing with his mouth open and Sam elbows him in the ribs until he closes it. They seem content, relaxed in a way that Teyla suspects is a luxury. Dr. Zelenka says something and the table erupts into laughter, Dean slapping the doctor on the back and shaking his head. “It is my hope that your people will aid them in their work. I fear they have spent too long with only each other to rely on,” she says.
Jack
“Carter,” Jack says. “I’m ready to retire. I just want to sit out by my lake every day and drink beer and dangle a pole until it’s too dark to fish anymore. Is that too much to ask?”
“No, sir,” Sam says.
“It’s always one more thing, Carter. Every time I think I can hang my hat up, the galaxy needs saving again. Now we find out vampires are real and the Goa’uld have apparently learned how to turn themselves into evil black smoke.” He shakes his head. “One of these days, Carter. One of these days, I’m gonna leave all this mess to you kids and settle down for a permanent vacation.”
“But today is not that day, sir,” Sam says and grins, her smile brighter and more beautiful and more smart-assed than Jack thinks any smile has the right to be.
“No,” Jack says and flops down at Sam’s desk chair. “Today is not that day.”
Her phone rings and Jack answers it. “The Winchesters are apparently back on terra firma and headed this way,” he tells Sam.
“Have you and General Landry decided what to do with them, sir?”
“Yeah,” Jack says. “I think so.”
An SF knocks on Jack’s door and then escorts the brothers into Sam’s office. Jack looks them up and down, letting the moment drag out, and then he says, “So, you boys looking for a job?”
The End
This is sort of an experiment in narrative style for me. The story is told from a variety of perspectives and I leave a good many questions unanswered. What I would truly love is if any of you wanted to play in this universe. Anyone who wants to use this as a springboard for fic is certainly welcome to do so. Maybe you can actually manage to get some sex in there! LOL
Fandom: SPN/SGA crossover
Pairing: Gen
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word Count: 3,341
This is set in the third season of SGA sometime before Carson dies and in the second season of SPN.
Rodney
Rodney grabs his suitcase off the back seat of the rental car and then walks through the hotel parking garage at a fast clip. He’s only been on Earth for thirty five hours but he’s more than ready to Gate hop his way back to Atlantis. Delivering Brendan Gaul’s only declassified paper to a completely full and completely transfixed MIT auditorium was either an incredibly meaningful gesture or an exercise in extreme masochism. Rodney can’t decide. The four hours of sleep he’ll be lucky to get before his flight leaves for Colorado probably won’t settle the question.
A noise echoes off the concrete somewhere behind him and when Rodney turns to look, a woman is leaning against a Ford Bronco and smiling at him. She’s attractive, Rodney supposes, in an underfed and underclothed sort of way, but he hasn’t seen anything like the smile on her face since Kolya decided to use him as his own personal whetstone. She lunges for him suddenly, more quickly than Rodney expects, her mouth opening and revealing a set of exceedingly inhuman teeth.
Rodney drops his suitcase and draws his sidearm, terribly grateful that Sheppard didn’t even smirk when Rodney told him he didn’t feel comfortable gallivanting all over the US of A unarmed. He simply nodded and in the next databurst to Earth requested a permit for Rodney to carry a concealed weapon. Gun or no gun, Rodney would feel much better sandwiched between Ronon and Teyla with Sheppard on point, but Rodney’s used to disappointment.
In the instant before Rodney would fire, an arrow zips by his left ear and lodges in the woman’s chest. She immediately vaults over the side of the garage and Rodney whirls to find a couple of kids with crossbows on his six. Well, not really kids. They’re as old as some of the Marines on Atlantis, as old as Cadman is or Ford had been, and Rodney has got to stop thinking of the people who save his ass on a regular basis as children. He trains the gun on the taller one and they both lower their crossbows, spreading their arms wide and showing him their palms.
“What the hell just happened?” Rodney asks, silently calculating the odds of assault by hooligans with primitive weaponry on this side of the Stargate and concluding once again that the universe hates him.
The one who reminds him a little of Sheppard—that lazy way the colonel seems to slouch inside his own skin, that little grin he wears like a mask—answers Rodney. “You’re welcome,” he says.
“Dean!” the taller one hisses before turning to Rodney with a face so laughably earnest that Rodney suspects the furrow in his young brow will begin eating into his brain sometime in the next decade. “I’m Sam and this is my brother Dean. I know this is difficult to believe, but the woman who attacked you is a vampire.”
When Rodney doesn’t speak, Sam continues. “We don’t think the attack was random either. We think you’re her target and we don’t think she’s acting alone. You have to let us help you, man.”
There’s no such thing as vampires, Rodney thinks but then remembers that there’s no such thing as aliens and intergalactic spaceships either. He looks at the woman’s blood drying in a sticky black parabola on the pavement and makes up his mind. “Okay.”
The two exchange glances, clearly not expecting Rodney to get with the program without a hell of a lot more convincing.
“That’s it? Okay?” Dean says.
Rodney shrugs. “Okay.” He flips open his cell phone and makes the call. “Get me General Landry.”
Dean
“Why’d you tell him you have visions? And move things with your mind?” Dean whispers. “Now we’re a gillion miles underground in a military compound that technically doesn’t even exist and this ain’t Green River, Sam. We got nobody on the inside here. If shit goes south, we are so screwed.”
“We’re not screwed, Dean. I can’t explain it, but I trust this guy.”
Dean shakes his head. “You gotta be kidding me, Sammy.”
Across the room, Dr. McKay—Rodney—is trying to flirt with some hot blonde and getting shot down spectacularly. Dean doesn’t blame the chick; that shit is painful to watch, much less endure yourself. Dean would write the guy off as a loser except he’d handled his gun like he knew what he was doing with it and he didn’t freak when they told him the truth about the supernatural. Of course, Dean thinks he’d like Rodney much better if twenty minutes after that revelation Dean hadn’t found himself squished into the window seat of a helicopter and hyperventilating into a paper bag.
The other doctor, the one who drew their blood and scanned their brains and whipped out every instrument except the anal probe, looks up from his microscope. “You’ll never believe what I found in the blood sample of the woman who attacked you, Rodney.” The doctor frowns and his accent—Scottish, Dean thinks—grows thicker. “Wraith DNA.”
“What?” Rodney says. “How is that possible?”
“Excuse me,” Dean says. “Little out of the loop here. What’s a Wraith?”
Rodney answers, his hands moving in distracted circles as he speaks. “Wraith are aliens from the Pegasus galaxy. They kill humans by draining them of their energy in much the same way I’m assuming vampires drain humans of blood.”
“Oh,” Dean says. He looks at Sam and makes the universal sign for “this guy is fucking nuts.”
“Please,” Rodney says. “You expect me to believe in vampires but you can’t fathom aliens?”
Hot Blonde looks up from her turn at the microscope. “It makes a horrific kind of sense, doesn’t it? Most of Earth’s theology is based on alien intervention. The Egyptian gods were really the Goa’uld. The Asgard masqueraded as the Norse gods. Jesus was probably from outer space, too. So if our higher powers are actually aliens, why not our monsters?”
Suddenly Dean feels like the mountain is squeezing down on him. He doesn’t know who these people are or if they can be trusted and they spout off the impossible like it’s nothing, like it’s indisputable fact. Dean knows there are things in this world that most people would never believe, but what he’s heard today is out there, even for a hunter. And if by some miracle what these people say is true, Dean’s not sure he’s ready to know it.
“That’s not all I found,” the doctor says, interrupting Dean’s freakout. He points at Sam. “This young man has the highest concentration of the ATA gene I’ve ever seen.”
Dean’s about to ask what ATA means, when he glances at Sam. Sam shakes his head and clenches his jaw. His eyes go a little wild and Dean can tell Sam’s scared. Sam is different; Dean knows that, but Sam isn’t evil and no way in hell is Dean gonna let these people tell his little brother otherwise. “I always knew you were a genetic freak,” Dean says and shoves his hand in his pocket where his knife used to be.
Sam Carter
“Why do you think Rodney was targeted by the vampire?” Sam asks.
Dean crosses his arms. “I don’t know. You’d have to ask my brother. He’s the psychic wonder.”
Sam sighs. Dean Winchester could give General O’Neill a run for his money in the stubborn department. She realizes that the kind of life Dean and his brother have led isn’t especially conducive to trusting strangers, but the potential presence of Wraith on Earth is a matter of global security and time may be a factor. “I’m asking you.”
Dean grins and Sam can tell that he’s used to getting his way with women. “Let me ask you something, Colonel Carter,” he says, leaning in and shifting his hips, letting his legs fall open a little more in the chair.
Sam almost rolls her eyes but catches herself just in time. “Alright,” she says. “Ask away.”
“What’s the ATA gene?” Dean says.
He’s one of the best con artists Sam has ever seen; his breathing doesn’t change and his smile stays genuine and charming as he asks the question. But somehow Sam knows Dean is afraid. Maybe all the time Jolinar spent as a spy has given Sam a better understanding of the ways people lie. Or maybe her own field experience has enhanced her ability to read people. Whatever the cause and despite Dean’s obvious skill at subterfuge, Sam can tell that Dean is frightened. She suspects that fear is for his younger brother. Neither Winchester seemed particularly happy when General Landry ordered Sam and Teal’c to conduct their interrogations separately.
Sam says, “The ATA gene allows the bearer to operate Ancient technology. Most Ancient technology is coded to respond only to a certain genetic imprint in order to prevent what the Ancients considered hostile forces from using it. The gene is nothing harmful or dangerous and your brother would likely have never known he carries the gene if Dr. Beckett hadn’t tested his blood for its presence.”
Sam watches Dean assess this information, watches him decide not to ask her who the Ancients are or what kind of technology they created. The change is miniscule, almost imperceptible, but something in Dean deflates and Sam knows that Dean has chosen to trust her. At least a little. At least for now.
“We’re not really sure what the vamps want with Dr. McKay. Sam’s visions don’t exactly fill in all the blanks. All we know is that Drusilla and the gang would have bled him dry if we hadn’t shown up,” Dean says. “That’s all I know, I swear.”
Sam nods. “Okay, Dean. I believe you. Three field teams are currently sweeping the Cambridge area. We’ll know what these vampires want soon enough. Now I’d like you to tell me about all the supernatural beings you and your brother have encountered and what you’ve done to defeat them.”
Dean smirks and Sam has to admit that he’s definitely cute if way too cocky for her taste. “Hope you brought the popcorn,” he says. “This is gonna take a while.”
Teal’c
Teal’c contemplates Sam Winchester in silence, mentally reviewing all he has learned about the man on the short walk from the infirmary to Conference Room D. Sam Winchester has clearly been trained as a warrior. His slouch is cultivated, a posture that belies both his watchfulness and the strength he disguises with baggy clothing. In the infirmary, neither he nor his brother sat with their backs to the entrance. When Teal’c led him down the corridor, his steps were evenly measured so that he could calculate the distance they had traveled. Most tellingly, although the soldiers in Massachusetts removed both Winchesters’ guns, a more thorough search at the SGC revealed many other weapons secreted on their bodies. Teal’c has always lived in the company of men who have suffered war; he would swear on his father’s name that Sam and Dean Winchester could say the same.
“You and your brother are wanted for many crimes on this planet,” Teal’c says.
“That’s true,” Sam Winchester says and waits for Teal’c to speak again. Teal’c appreciates that he does not offer additional information; as a result, he provides Teal’c with no unforeseen tactical advantage by inadvertently disclosing that which may be used against him. Teal’c is pleased to confront such a shrewd conversational opponent.
Before Teal’c can begin the interrogation, Dr. Beckett appears in the conference room doorway. “Sorry to interrupt,” he says. “I just wanted to ask Sam a question.”
Teal’c bows his head in assent.
“Do you recognize this item?” Dr. Beckett asks Sam Winchester. He carries on a metal surgical tray a Goa’uld healing device. Sam Winchester shakes his head no. “Are you certain you’ve never encountered a device like this one before?”
“Yes,” Sam Winchester says. “Why?”
Dr. Beckett ignores his question. “Has your brother been gravely injured in the recent past?”
Sam Winchester frowns. “Nearly a year ago we were in a car wreck and Dean almost died. Why?”
“Teal’c, may I speak with you privately for a moment?” Dr. Beckett follows Teal’c into the corridor and pulls the conference door shut behind him. “I just finished analyzing Dean’s test results. Goa’uld healing devices leave minute traces at the cellular level that gradually dissipate. At some time in the recent past, Dean had a very severe injury healed with one of these.”
Teal’c clenches his fists at his sides and breathes very deeply for the space of several heartbeats. “Then this planet has almost certainly been infiltrated by a Goa’uld.”
“Yes,” Dr. Beckett says. “I thought you should know.”
Teal’c again inclines his head and bids Dr. Beckett farewell, resolving to discover all he can from Sam Winchester. If he and his brother are in league with the Goa’uld, they must be dealt with accordingly.
Much later, when his interrogation is complete, Teal’c finds Dr. Beckett with Dr. McKay and Colonel Carter in the infirmary. “I understand that you wish to transport the Winchester brothers to Atlantis for additional testing,” he says to Dr. Beckett.
“Aye,” Dr. Beckett says. “One of the laboratories in Atlantis is devoted to research on Ascension, but the equipment cannot be removed from the lab. If the General gives me permission to take them back with us, I’d like to see what Ancient technology can tell us about Sam’s abilities. Of course, I imagine his permission depends largely on what you’ve learned in your little talk, Teal’c.”
“I have discovered that Sam Winchester’s mother was murdered when he was but a child. He believes the being that killed his mother is a demon, an evil creature that is capable of possessing a human and forcing that human to commit terrible acts against his will.”
“That sounds familiar,” Dr. McKay says.
“Indeed. I have also learned that when this demon takes a host, that host then displays one defining physical characteristic.” Teal’c pauses, enjoying his companions’ suspense.
“Oh, cut the dramatics,” Dr. McKay says and Colonel Carter smiles. “What is it?”
“Glowing yellow eyes.”
Elizabeth
Elizabeth doesn’t have a chance to speak alone with Sam until several days after the Winchesters arrive in Atlantis. Once her schedule clears, Elizabeth invites Sam to join her in her office for tea.
He sits across the desk from her, clearly uncomfortable, the teacup looking faintly ridiculous in his large hands. “Welcome to Atlantis, Sam,” she says. “I’m sorry I wasn’t available to greet you properly when you first arrived. We’ve had some issues with a trading partner that required my attention.”
Sam smiles and ducks his head. “I understand. I can’t imagine all the challenges you must face running an expedition like this.”
“Sometimes even I can’t imagine them,” Elizabeth says with a little laugh designed to put Sam at ease. Her tactic works; Sam relaxes, his grip on the armrest of the chair loosening. “I must admit that I have an ulterior motive in asking you to meet with me,” Elizabeth continues and just like that, Sam is instantly wary again.
“Oh, really?” he says politely, his face carefully neutral as he speaks.
“Yes. The people that used to live in this city, the people that we call the Ancients, were an extraordinary race. They possessed knowledge and technology that we haven’t even come close to understanding for ourselves. Thousands of years ago, the Ancients found a way to ascend to another plane of existence. We’ve had some experience with ascension at the SGC. We’ve met ascended Ancients before. Dr. Daniel Jackson ascended and Dr. McKay nearly did so as well. Unfortunately, Dr. Jackson remembers next to nothing about the time he spent as an ascended being and we were all so strongly focused on preventing Rodney from ascending that I never really had time to talk with him about the experience,” Elizabeth says. “I’d like to ask you some questions about your abilities, if I may. This is a request, not an order. You can certainly say no.”
Elizabeth waits while Sam considers what she has asked. She recognizes his expression from her years at the bargaining table. Sam is inclined to talk with her but something about her desire to question him about his abilities profoundly disturbs him and Elizabeth cannot imagine why.
Finally Sam speaks. “You think I can tell you something that might help you to ascend yourself, don’t you?”
Elizabeth is surprised. She had meant to present her interest in a purely academic light and feels embarrassed that her personal fascination with ascension was so easy for this stranger to read. “Frankly, yes,” she says.
“Dr. Weir, I don’t know anything about ascension. What I do know is that my abilities don’t feel like gifts. They feel wrong, evil even, and I’d do anything to get rid of them.”
Before Elizabeth can answer, Chuck notifies her of an unscheduled wormhole activation and the conversation is tabled for another day.
Teyla
“What do you think about the Winchesters?” John asks around a mouthful of cereal.
“Seem okay,” Ronon says. “Both good fighters.”
Rodney says, “They did save my life. I tend to find myself approving of people who save my life.”
John snorts. “What about you, Teyla? What do you think about our guests?”
“I think that in future Dean Winchester will keep his hands to himself,” she says.
Rodney slaps the table. “That’s where that bruise on his arm came from! He told me he got it sparring with Ronon.”
Ronon rolls his eyes and continues shoveling in scrambled ranthok eggs.
“I know I have been wrong in the past,” Teyla says, “but I nonetheless consider myself a good judge of character. I think that Sam and Dean are both honorable men. I cannot imagine what a burden they bear protecting your planet from a danger that most people do not believe exists. It must be such a relief to be with those among whom they can speak freely.”
Across the mess hall, Teyla can see the brothers breakfasting with Major Lorne and Dr. Zelenka. Dean is chewing with his mouth open and Sam elbows him in the ribs until he closes it. They seem content, relaxed in a way that Teyla suspects is a luxury. Dr. Zelenka says something and the table erupts into laughter, Dean slapping the doctor on the back and shaking his head. “It is my hope that your people will aid them in their work. I fear they have spent too long with only each other to rely on,” she says.
Jack
“Carter,” Jack says. “I’m ready to retire. I just want to sit out by my lake every day and drink beer and dangle a pole until it’s too dark to fish anymore. Is that too much to ask?”
“No, sir,” Sam says.
“It’s always one more thing, Carter. Every time I think I can hang my hat up, the galaxy needs saving again. Now we find out vampires are real and the Goa’uld have apparently learned how to turn themselves into evil black smoke.” He shakes his head. “One of these days, Carter. One of these days, I’m gonna leave all this mess to you kids and settle down for a permanent vacation.”
“But today is not that day, sir,” Sam says and grins, her smile brighter and more beautiful and more smart-assed than Jack thinks any smile has the right to be.
“No,” Jack says and flops down at Sam’s desk chair. “Today is not that day.”
Her phone rings and Jack answers it. “The Winchesters are apparently back on terra firma and headed this way,” he tells Sam.
“Have you and General Landry decided what to do with them, sir?”
“Yeah,” Jack says. “I think so.”
An SF knocks on Jack’s door and then escorts the brothers into Sam’s office. Jack looks them up and down, letting the moment drag out, and then he says, “So, you boys looking for a job?”
The End
This is sort of an experiment in narrative style for me. The story is told from a variety of perspectives and I leave a good many questions unanswered. What I would truly love is if any of you wanted to play in this universe. Anyone who wants to use this as a springboard for fic is certainly welcome to do so. Maybe you can actually manage to get some sex in there! LOL
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-11-12 02:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-12 03:47 pm (UTC)Now maybe somebody will write me a *real* story in this universe. That would make my day.
:)
As far as the POV shifts go, I'm only through SG-1 season seven and I was really afraid of screwing up SG-1 canon, which I still may have done. But I really enjoyed examining how a bunch of different characters would react to Sam and Dean.
Re: even though i'm not familar with sga
Date: 2007-11-12 07:07 pm (UTC):)
*glee*
no subject
Date: 2007-11-16 12:21 am (UTC)And Dean viewing McKay flirt with Carter is hilarious. that shit is painful to watch LOL!
no subject
Date: 2007-11-16 01:49 am (UTC):)
no subject
Date: 2007-11-16 05:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-16 03:35 pm (UTC)I'm glad you liked this. It was a lot of fun to write.
:)
Through the Rabbit Hole
Date: 2008-12-15 07:20 am (UTC)Also, love, love, love your writing. Especially in the DH4 and Buffy verse.
Re: Through the Rabbit Hole
Date: 2008-12-15 09:27 pm (UTC)This XOVER is really close to my heart and I'm so glad that you enjoyed reading it.
I definitely plan to write in this 'verse again as soon as I get a bunny. I'd like to get the SGC onto Sam and Dean's turf. I think there's some interesting parallels to be drawn between Ronon and the Winchesters in terms of loss and response to loss.