"My Daddy Didn't Have Days Like This" Part 4/5
Title: My Daddy Didn't Have Days Like This - Part 4/5
By: kellifer_fic
Fandom: SPN/SGA
Rating: PG (language/adult themes)
Category: Crossover
Words: 1,655
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, no money!
Spoilers: None
Notes: Thanks to my beta *superfox*
Summary: The offer of a clean slate is great but the commute is a bitch
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five
Dean comes to being dragged.
He’s never been more grateful for this father’s training and how his first instinct when coming awake is not to open his eyes but to check things out with his other senses. His feet are trailing along the floor and it feels like he’s being hauled by two people, one with an arm under each of his shoulders. There are nails digging into the fleshy parts of his underarms and something pings wrong for Dean.
There’s also the smell.
Something earthy and way too fleshy assails his nostrils. It’s the smell of leather, animals and a baser undercurrent, the coppery tang of blood. The floor under his feet is smooth so Dean is reassured that he is most likely still in the city.
Dean lets his foot drop sideways when it hits a protrusion, a natural-looking twist of his leg and he feels the comforting press of the blade in his boot. Another nudge and he knows that the knife at the small of his back is gone as well as the one strapped under his forearm. Being stripped of some of his weapons is also a good indication that he’s not being carried by friendlies.
Dean strains, trying to shut out all extraneous noise and just focus on his immediate surroundings and aside from the feet on either side of him, he can’t hear any others. Dean waits until one of the people dragging him adjusts their grip just slightly and it’s the one on the right that eventually does. Dean yanks down and out of their hands, getting his feet under him at the same time.
Dean tries to open his eyes but there’s something in them so he’s fighting blind. The grip on his left tightens rather than letting go and Dean uses it, barrelling sideways and down so their momentum combined carries them to the floor. Dean rolls as fast as he can, bringing his leg up and grabbing the knife out of his boot and he’s on his feet before the second captor comes for him.
Dean receives a glancing blow to the side of the head and rolls with it, knowing if he gets hit dead-on it’s all over because whoever these guys are, they hit hard. Dean reaches up to his face, trying to clear his eyes and his fingers come away sticky. He knows it’s probably blood he can’t see through and even though it’s a hindrance, it’s also probably the main reason his attackers weren’t expecting him to come up fighting.
Dean feels arms around his waist and he’s yanked off his feet. He gets to think tall fucker before there’s a sound like a futuristic car backfiring and he’s dropped again. The sound repeats twice more and then there’s nothing. Dean gets an arm up to his eyes and rubs, blinking blearily when he’s finally able to clear his vision.
“Hey, Winchester,” Ronon greets from above, braced against the roof with his legs and arms hooked over and through crossbeams.
“What’s going on?” Dean asks, watching Ronon first let go with his arms and then swing free, landing on his feet and holstering his weapon after a little twirl in his hand. Dean had always loved that gunslinger stuff but his father would cuff him around the back of the head every time he tried it, growling that all Dean needed was to be accurate, not showy.
“Got a bit of a problem,” Ronon says, leaning down to grasp Dean’s head with both hands and tilt so, Dean supposes, he can check out the head wound.
“I figured,” Dean nods, letting Ronon give him a hand up. “Any idea where my brother is?”
000
The gate room when they reach it resembles a war zone. There are marines running through with weapons held close and people shouting. Smoke makes Dean’s eyes water and he swipes at them with his sleeve. Ronon is the first to spot Sheppard and Dean follows at his heels when the larger man makes his way through the thronging crowd towards the Colonel.
Dean stops dead though when he catches sight of the crater in the floor where the Stargate used to be.
“What the hell?”
“Oh thank god, we thought they’d gotten off with you as well,” Sheppard calls as he spots them and Dean pulls his attention away from the ‘gate. “Nice work,” he adds, cuffing Ronon’s shoulder who nods briskly.
“What exactly the fuck is going on?” Dean asks. His head is itching and he knows despite Ronon’s ministrations he’s probably still bleeding. He fights the urge to scratch it, knowing all he’ll do is dislodge the makeshift bandage and maybe make it bleed worse.
“We were lucky,” Sheppard says and Dean frowns at him, looking at the general chaos around them. He spots Elizabeth on the other side of the room, weaving her way through her people and he can tell without even hearing her that she is throwing out orders right and left. She has her arm in what looks like a sling made out of someone’s t-shirt but effectively evades the medical personnel that keep trying to pin her down.
“How do you figure?” Dean asks and Sheppard tips him a half smile.
“Could’ve been worse. The explosive they used vaporised the ‘gate and did some damage but the raw materials used to make up the ‘gate can increase the yield of any conventional bomb by… well, a lot.”
“We could’ve lost the city and a good chunk of the planet,” Rodney pipes up from behind John’s shoulder. “Back on Earth the Goa’uld had tried to use the ‘gate to do just that on more than one occasion. We’re alive because of that.”
“How?”
“It was Zelenka actually,” Rodney says, waving a hand in a vague direction and Dean follows his gesture but he’s not sure who he is supposed to be looking for. “About four months ago he wrote a program into the city’s mainframe that would have the shield that’s usually around the whole city collapse down around the ‘gate if certain parameters were met.”
“Parameters?”
“Something blowing up right near it,” Rodney says, shrugging. “The blast was contained but we lost the ‘gate as a consequence.”
“Okay,” Elizabeth says, finally making her way over to them and looking grim. “We’ve done a rough head count and while we might find there’s more, it looks like currently we’re missing only two people.”
Dean’s stomach drops because he knows without a shadow of a doubt that one of those people will be his brother. “Who’s the other one?” Dean asks and Elizabeth looks at him, eyes wide and expression tight.
“Teyla,” she says and Dean feels more than sees both Ronon and Sheppard tense next to him.
“Son of a bitch,” Sheppard grates out, hands clenching into fists.
“We thought the explosive might’ve only been a distraction,” Rodney muses, hand rubbing his chin. “The Wraith strike teams came in right after.”
“Wraith strike teams?” Dean asks, feeling his head spinning. His little brother is always a magnet for the nasties and Dean can’t believe that they travelled out of the galaxy and the same still holds true.
“Well,” Elizabeth says, still looking grim but also determined. “For once we’re lucky that the government is so paranoid.”
“How?” Sheppard demands. Dean knows he’s spoiling for a fight. He can relate.
“Dean and Sam were fitted with Asgard designed locator devices before they left Earth.”
“Flu shot my ass!” Dean snaps, remembering being jabbed with a particularly large and thick needle and not being able to sit right for two days.
Rodney is already off, shouting for people and gesturing wildly. “Follow him?” Dean guesses and Sheppard grins at him and nods, clapping him on the shoulder.
000
Teyla Emmagen is an island.
That’s what she tries to tell herself when the Wraith Queen passes a hand across her face and then trails fingers down her throat, the teeth in the Queen’s palm grazing the delicate skin of Teyla’s throat.
“Who so clumsily stumbles into our minds and thinks to cause us harm?” the Queen demands, her voice a low purr with an echo that ripples through Teyla’s mind and tries to tease forth the information she’s hunting for. Teyla clamps down, picturing a sandy beach and the waves lapping. The sound of the Kulesh bird above and the smell of her mother’s cooking.
Simple things. Safe things.
“Is it the boy? Can one so young have such power?”
Teyla’s mind flicks to Sam Winchester and then away as quickly, knowing that it’s dangerous. She tries not to think of how he’d been grinning at her as he’d lowered himself on her floor, long legs folded underneath him. He’d rested large hands on his knees and raised an eyebrow. “Meditation huh? Dean is going to have a field day.”
“Hush,” she’d warned, smiling despite herself, half-remembering her sessions with Ronon and how he’d fallen asleep sitting up. How she’d scolded him but laughed herself silly as soon as he was out of her room. “Close your eyes and concentrate.”
They hadn’t meant to do anything but she’d felt Sam’s mind open up and it was like staring at the sun.
“Yes,” the Queen hisses. “Where did he come from? Are there more?”
Teyla tries to drag her mind back to the island, her safe place but that only makes her think of Atlantis. Her fear for the people she’s come to love washes over her and she tries to tamp it down but the Queen is too fast, darting in and overwhelming her. Cold envelopes Teyla as the Queen casually cards through her memories, looking for what she needs.
“You had no idea,” the Queen says, voice almost tinged with wonder. “You are but children playing with fire.”
Teyla Emmagen is an island and she feels herself sinking beneath the waves.
By: kellifer_fic
Fandom: SPN/SGA
Rating: PG (language/adult themes)
Category: Crossover
Words: 1,655
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, no money!
Spoilers: None
Notes: Thanks to my beta *superfox*
Summary: The offer of a clean slate is great but the commute is a bitch
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five
Dean comes to being dragged.
He’s never been more grateful for this father’s training and how his first instinct when coming awake is not to open his eyes but to check things out with his other senses. His feet are trailing along the floor and it feels like he’s being hauled by two people, one with an arm under each of his shoulders. There are nails digging into the fleshy parts of his underarms and something pings wrong for Dean.
There’s also the smell.
Something earthy and way too fleshy assails his nostrils. It’s the smell of leather, animals and a baser undercurrent, the coppery tang of blood. The floor under his feet is smooth so Dean is reassured that he is most likely still in the city.
Dean lets his foot drop sideways when it hits a protrusion, a natural-looking twist of his leg and he feels the comforting press of the blade in his boot. Another nudge and he knows that the knife at the small of his back is gone as well as the one strapped under his forearm. Being stripped of some of his weapons is also a good indication that he’s not being carried by friendlies.
Dean strains, trying to shut out all extraneous noise and just focus on his immediate surroundings and aside from the feet on either side of him, he can’t hear any others. Dean waits until one of the people dragging him adjusts their grip just slightly and it’s the one on the right that eventually does. Dean yanks down and out of their hands, getting his feet under him at the same time.
Dean tries to open his eyes but there’s something in them so he’s fighting blind. The grip on his left tightens rather than letting go and Dean uses it, barrelling sideways and down so their momentum combined carries them to the floor. Dean rolls as fast as he can, bringing his leg up and grabbing the knife out of his boot and he’s on his feet before the second captor comes for him.
Dean receives a glancing blow to the side of the head and rolls with it, knowing if he gets hit dead-on it’s all over because whoever these guys are, they hit hard. Dean reaches up to his face, trying to clear his eyes and his fingers come away sticky. He knows it’s probably blood he can’t see through and even though it’s a hindrance, it’s also probably the main reason his attackers weren’t expecting him to come up fighting.
Dean feels arms around his waist and he’s yanked off his feet. He gets to think tall fucker before there’s a sound like a futuristic car backfiring and he’s dropped again. The sound repeats twice more and then there’s nothing. Dean gets an arm up to his eyes and rubs, blinking blearily when he’s finally able to clear his vision.
“Hey, Winchester,” Ronon greets from above, braced against the roof with his legs and arms hooked over and through crossbeams.
“What’s going on?” Dean asks, watching Ronon first let go with his arms and then swing free, landing on his feet and holstering his weapon after a little twirl in his hand. Dean had always loved that gunslinger stuff but his father would cuff him around the back of the head every time he tried it, growling that all Dean needed was to be accurate, not showy.
“Got a bit of a problem,” Ronon says, leaning down to grasp Dean’s head with both hands and tilt so, Dean supposes, he can check out the head wound.
“I figured,” Dean nods, letting Ronon give him a hand up. “Any idea where my brother is?”
000
The gate room when they reach it resembles a war zone. There are marines running through with weapons held close and people shouting. Smoke makes Dean’s eyes water and he swipes at them with his sleeve. Ronon is the first to spot Sheppard and Dean follows at his heels when the larger man makes his way through the thronging crowd towards the Colonel.
Dean stops dead though when he catches sight of the crater in the floor where the Stargate used to be.
“What the hell?”
“Oh thank god, we thought they’d gotten off with you as well,” Sheppard calls as he spots them and Dean pulls his attention away from the ‘gate. “Nice work,” he adds, cuffing Ronon’s shoulder who nods briskly.
“What exactly the fuck is going on?” Dean asks. His head is itching and he knows despite Ronon’s ministrations he’s probably still bleeding. He fights the urge to scratch it, knowing all he’ll do is dislodge the makeshift bandage and maybe make it bleed worse.
“We were lucky,” Sheppard says and Dean frowns at him, looking at the general chaos around them. He spots Elizabeth on the other side of the room, weaving her way through her people and he can tell without even hearing her that she is throwing out orders right and left. She has her arm in what looks like a sling made out of someone’s t-shirt but effectively evades the medical personnel that keep trying to pin her down.
“How do you figure?” Dean asks and Sheppard tips him a half smile.
“Could’ve been worse. The explosive they used vaporised the ‘gate and did some damage but the raw materials used to make up the ‘gate can increase the yield of any conventional bomb by… well, a lot.”
“We could’ve lost the city and a good chunk of the planet,” Rodney pipes up from behind John’s shoulder. “Back on Earth the Goa’uld had tried to use the ‘gate to do just that on more than one occasion. We’re alive because of that.”
“How?”
“It was Zelenka actually,” Rodney says, waving a hand in a vague direction and Dean follows his gesture but he’s not sure who he is supposed to be looking for. “About four months ago he wrote a program into the city’s mainframe that would have the shield that’s usually around the whole city collapse down around the ‘gate if certain parameters were met.”
“Parameters?”
“Something blowing up right near it,” Rodney says, shrugging. “The blast was contained but we lost the ‘gate as a consequence.”
“Okay,” Elizabeth says, finally making her way over to them and looking grim. “We’ve done a rough head count and while we might find there’s more, it looks like currently we’re missing only two people.”
Dean’s stomach drops because he knows without a shadow of a doubt that one of those people will be his brother. “Who’s the other one?” Dean asks and Elizabeth looks at him, eyes wide and expression tight.
“Teyla,” she says and Dean feels more than sees both Ronon and Sheppard tense next to him.
“Son of a bitch,” Sheppard grates out, hands clenching into fists.
“We thought the explosive might’ve only been a distraction,” Rodney muses, hand rubbing his chin. “The Wraith strike teams came in right after.”
“Wraith strike teams?” Dean asks, feeling his head spinning. His little brother is always a magnet for the nasties and Dean can’t believe that they travelled out of the galaxy and the same still holds true.
“Well,” Elizabeth says, still looking grim but also determined. “For once we’re lucky that the government is so paranoid.”
“How?” Sheppard demands. Dean knows he’s spoiling for a fight. He can relate.
“Dean and Sam were fitted with Asgard designed locator devices before they left Earth.”
“Flu shot my ass!” Dean snaps, remembering being jabbed with a particularly large and thick needle and not being able to sit right for two days.
Rodney is already off, shouting for people and gesturing wildly. “Follow him?” Dean guesses and Sheppard grins at him and nods, clapping him on the shoulder.
000
Teyla Emmagen is an island.
That’s what she tries to tell herself when the Wraith Queen passes a hand across her face and then trails fingers down her throat, the teeth in the Queen’s palm grazing the delicate skin of Teyla’s throat.
“Who so clumsily stumbles into our minds and thinks to cause us harm?” the Queen demands, her voice a low purr with an echo that ripples through Teyla’s mind and tries to tease forth the information she’s hunting for. Teyla clamps down, picturing a sandy beach and the waves lapping. The sound of the Kulesh bird above and the smell of her mother’s cooking.
Simple things. Safe things.
“Is it the boy? Can one so young have such power?”
Teyla’s mind flicks to Sam Winchester and then away as quickly, knowing that it’s dangerous. She tries not to think of how he’d been grinning at her as he’d lowered himself on her floor, long legs folded underneath him. He’d rested large hands on his knees and raised an eyebrow. “Meditation huh? Dean is going to have a field day.”
“Hush,” she’d warned, smiling despite herself, half-remembering her sessions with Ronon and how he’d fallen asleep sitting up. How she’d scolded him but laughed herself silly as soon as he was out of her room. “Close your eyes and concentrate.”
They hadn’t meant to do anything but she’d felt Sam’s mind open up and it was like staring at the sun.
“Yes,” the Queen hisses. “Where did he come from? Are there more?”
Teyla tries to drag her mind back to the island, her safe place but that only makes her think of Atlantis. Her fear for the people she’s come to love washes over her and she tries to tamp it down but the Queen is too fast, darting in and overwhelming her. Cold envelopes Teyla as the Queen casually cards through her memories, looking for what she needs.
“You had no idea,” the Queen says, voice almost tinged with wonder. “You are but children playing with fire.”
Teyla Emmagen is an island and she feels herself sinking beneath the waves.