fic for cathybites
Title: Hunting the Dark Ship
Author: kittehkat
Recipient's name: cathybites
Fandom: Supernatural / Pirates of the Caribbean
Characters/Pairings: Sam and Dean Winchester, Captain Jack Sparrow
Rating and Warnings: PG, AU and a wink to Wincest at the end
Summary: Sam an Dean find themselves in Port Royal trying to find out more about the mysterious Black Pearl.
Notes: This is from your second request. I'm so regretably late with this because when I sent this off to the beta I expected to have it back in a few days -- instead, she suffered a loss in her family and then fell off the face of the earth. I offer this up flash-betaed by a friend who's not familiar with the fandom just so I can get this out to you. Sorry it's so late, Cathy! I hope you like it!
The heavy plank creaked a bit as Dean walked off the ship that had just pulled into port. He set down a heavy barrel on the dock and looked up. He saw his brother tying a heavy rope from the aft of the ship to a heavy iron loop attached to the pier. He walked over pushing up the sleeves of his 'borrowed' shirt that was two sizes too big and was missing the lace of leather that tied it together at the top.
"Hope you know what you're doing, Sammy."
"Sure. There was Boy Scouts."
"You weren't in Boy Scouts."
"I know. But there was that one time we had to go on the hunt at the Cub Scout's meetinghouse. Maybe something seeped in."
"I hope not." He glanced back over his shoulder to a few slips down that seemed to be guarded by some important-looking brigadiers of the Royal Navy. "Come on."
The Winchester brothers moved down the pier and as they came to the elaborately costumed guardsmen they cleared their throats. The navy men both arched their eyebrows up looking down their noses at the two in front of them.
"'Ello there, sirs. Begging yer pardon, but have y' seen any strange characters 'round these parts in past 'alf day or so?" Dean, upon hearing Sam's faked accent (one that was obviously off to his ear, therefore useless to use on the real British officers of the King's Navy they now stood in front of), let his eyes dart over to his brother.
"And what, pray tell, is your native land?"
"Lived on a ship our 'hole lives, we did. Picked up bits 'n' bobs from all 'round." Dean nodded in silent agreement.
"Ah, I see. And what are your names?"
Now this was a tricky matter. They had to pick something commonly English, nothing with bad ties in a place where marauding and ill trade left a name sour. "Smith."
"Smith, it is?"
"Yeah, tha's it."
"Why, we've got ourselves another fine member of the Smith family, it seems!" The brigadier grinned over to his partner guardsman wickedly, almost mischievously.
"Oh, fine chaps, then, we've got here!"
Shit. Bad choice.
In one swift move the boys both found themselves at either of the navy men's swords, the broad side resting on their shoulders ready to sever their heads.
"Please, sirs."
"No need for formalities, you scoundrels. Now, out with it! Who are you! No lies!"
"We be tellin' y' th' truth, sirs! We t'ain't here t' cause trouble. We're sorry if our kin've caused y' 'arm - we mean not to make it worse an' we don' intend on leavin' more ill 'an wha's already 'ere."
"Your word seems true, but what keeps it so?"
"We've only stopped t' find a new crew t' job for, with th' East Indian Tradin' Company. We're only stayin' s' long." The man who was holding his sword's edge to Sam's throat dropped it. Dean's guard was only more attentive.
"And what of him? He's not said a word."
Quickly Sam chimed in, "'E's a mute, sir. Can't speak a word."
"Then ye be pirates!" Both swords were redrawn with a greater fervor than before., waiting to slice into the neck of a man whose tongue would have been cut out if he had been caught in ill favor elsewhere, not to mention his brother's just for good measure.
"No, sirs!" Sam through in quickly. "Born like 'at, 'e was! Hold out yer tongue!"
Dean aptly opened his mouth. Normally, he'd shoot a glare at Sam first, but this was no time to be contradictory - there were rapiers ready to slice their throats, poised to kill.
"Hm. So he has." The men both paused and then dropped their swords. "Very well. Get on with it, and find a new ship. Make haste, we don't take kindly to sea men who stick around these parts very long who don't belong here by any means."
"Thank y', sirs."
A look of disapproval was enough to act as parting words and the brothers aptly turned and walked towards the landing of Port Royal.
-------------------------
"I'm a mute?" Dead looked at Sam pointedly.
"What? I didn't want you to blow our story with whatever accent you would've pulled."
"Oh, yeah. Yours was so great."
"Hey, at least I got us out of having our heads cut off."
"Yeah, but we still don't really have any leads. All we know is that there's another person on this island named Smith and that he checked a boat in at the dock."
Sam shrugged. "It's a lot more than we usually start with."
Sighing, Dean looked toward the jail. "Let's start there. If he was as much trouble as he sounds like…" His brother nodded in agreement as they made their way to the dank looking building that was obviously the prison.
"'Ello, sir." The prison guard didn't answer. This time, Sam easily explained that they were jobbing shipmen and that their porting captain had come to see if any of his rogue crew had got themselves locked up before leaving Port Royal, and if there were, he'd be offering a bond to bail them out because they needed their entire crew to man the ships. With such an easily accepted story, they were allowed in immediately and were left in the dungeons to see the prisoners for themselves.
It was pretty empty and dark, with most men pushed into the front cells, grouped together, where they discussed lude jokes and whistled to a dog who held the spare set of keys, surely trained to not answer them and merely taunt them with the idea of freedom. Further back, still, though, sat a dark man sitting against the wall, spinning a gleaming coin between his fingers idly.
"Think that's him?" Sam muttered under his breath.
"Not sure. Let's find out."
When they approached the cell they stood for a second without speaking to give the other man time for his eyes to adjust and take in the presence of his visitors. His spinning didn't skip a beat and he hardly had to look up to acknowledge them. "Hello, there. What can I do you?"
"Hi, we're looking for a guy named Smith. You seen him around here?"
"Smith? Not certain. Could have, could have not."
"He was said to be sailing a dark ship…"
"Oh? What kind of dark?" The man didn't seem even remotely interested in what the brothers were saying.
"Pirate-dark."
"Oh. Well that's not unusual for these parts."
"This ship is. It's rumored to be black."
"All pirate sails are black, my boy."
"No. The ship. It's entirely black."
The man stopped spinning the coin and caught it in his now open palm. "All black, then?" He paused to think, it seemed, to Dean. "Who did you say you were, again?"
"We didn't."
"Ah, well, elusive buggers, aren't you?" When neither of them said anything, the man got up. He shook his head to make sure his beaded and tied strands of hair fell away from his face. He itched his nose with the back of an extremely ring-clad hand covered in dark earth, then stroked his chin, which had plaits of facial hair running down on either side. "Interesting… Then you've heard the rumors, lads?"
"Not… exactly."
"It's said the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow's back, and he's brought the Pearl to Port Royal …Or so goes the stories that move on the wind."
"Who's-"
"I don't know more than that. At least, not for the price you're paying me now."
"But we haven't any-"
"There are things more valuable than money, boys…"
"What do you want?" Dean asked, rather dumbly.
"Freedom."
"Tell us what we need and we'll let you out of here."
"Ah-ah," the man with the leather tri-corner shook his finger 'no'. "Break me out first, story later. Think of it as a… reward for your good deed." He smiled slyly.
"Fine." Dean looked at Sam and the younger brother easily fetched the keys from the dog's mouth in the corner. They tried three keys before getting it right and when they did they heard a large clunk, then the groan of the iron hinge letting their charge leave his cell. He graciously tipped his hat and gave them another toothy smile, gleaming brightly with golden caps, then darted towards the door.
"Sorry, mates - have to run. Nice chat, though!" With that, he was gone.
"Great going."
"Shut up. We have bigger things to worry about right now…"
"Like what?"
As the prison guard rushed in gripping his musket, seemingly irate, Sam completely understood what he meant.
"RUN!"
-----------------------
After escaping the guard and hiding out, stealing new clothes so no one would recognize them, and asking around at all the dodgy establishments, Sam and Dean had finally gathered enough to really hunt and close in on their ghostly prey.
They found themselves crouched behind the face of jagged rocks, only twenty feet from the crashing waves beneath them, bathed in half-moonlight from the partly cloud-covered moon as it passing clouds worked across the dark sky. Here they waited for signs of the ship, a ship that was supposedly manned by the undead-damned. Nasty stuff, really.
They had worked out that they would have to ambush it. What then, though? They didn't really know. They'd have to figure it out and run with it.
Suddenly, the air turned frigid and stale and the water lapped at the rocks with a new onset rhythm. Sam caught a glimpse of dark grey-black sails, the topmast painted black to match, the looming figure of a dangerous ship slowly creeping out of the newly onset fog. He reached out and grabbed at Dean's shoulder to get his attention and motioned to the ship that was about ready to sail by them. Dean nodded and stood up, pulling his baby brother up with him. He held out his hand, counted to three on his fingers, and they leapt, swinging out with a rope they had rigged earlier and landed on the deck in one swift, foolhardy move.
They landed with a soft thud, one for each of them, as they looked around at their surroundings. They were instantly surrounded by a handful of ominous looking men with a thirst in their eyes. Shocked and, for once, completely unprepared and unable to immediately talk his way out of the situation, Sam moved his hand to his brother's and clasped tightly, drawing in a breath when another man came forward and joined the circle, walking toward them ominously with a great, horrible grin on his face - the very man they had freed from the prison only days before.
"Hello, gents. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. Welcome to the Pearl."
Author: kittehkat
Recipient's name: cathybites
Fandom: Supernatural / Pirates of the Caribbean
Characters/Pairings: Sam and Dean Winchester, Captain Jack Sparrow
Rating and Warnings: PG, AU and a wink to Wincest at the end
Summary: Sam an Dean find themselves in Port Royal trying to find out more about the mysterious Black Pearl.
Notes: This is from your second request. I'm so regretably late with this because when I sent this off to the beta I expected to have it back in a few days -- instead, she suffered a loss in her family and then fell off the face of the earth. I offer this up flash-betaed by a friend who's not familiar with the fandom just so I can get this out to you. Sorry it's so late, Cathy! I hope you like it!
The heavy plank creaked a bit as Dean walked off the ship that had just pulled into port. He set down a heavy barrel on the dock and looked up. He saw his brother tying a heavy rope from the aft of the ship to a heavy iron loop attached to the pier. He walked over pushing up the sleeves of his 'borrowed' shirt that was two sizes too big and was missing the lace of leather that tied it together at the top.
"Hope you know what you're doing, Sammy."
"Sure. There was Boy Scouts."
"You weren't in Boy Scouts."
"I know. But there was that one time we had to go on the hunt at the Cub Scout's meetinghouse. Maybe something seeped in."
"I hope not." He glanced back over his shoulder to a few slips down that seemed to be guarded by some important-looking brigadiers of the Royal Navy. "Come on."
The Winchester brothers moved down the pier and as they came to the elaborately costumed guardsmen they cleared their throats. The navy men both arched their eyebrows up looking down their noses at the two in front of them.
"'Ello there, sirs. Begging yer pardon, but have y' seen any strange characters 'round these parts in past 'alf day or so?" Dean, upon hearing Sam's faked accent (one that was obviously off to his ear, therefore useless to use on the real British officers of the King's Navy they now stood in front of), let his eyes dart over to his brother.
"And what, pray tell, is your native land?"
"Lived on a ship our 'hole lives, we did. Picked up bits 'n' bobs from all 'round." Dean nodded in silent agreement.
"Ah, I see. And what are your names?"
Now this was a tricky matter. They had to pick something commonly English, nothing with bad ties in a place where marauding and ill trade left a name sour. "Smith."
"Smith, it is?"
"Yeah, tha's it."
"Why, we've got ourselves another fine member of the Smith family, it seems!" The brigadier grinned over to his partner guardsman wickedly, almost mischievously.
"Oh, fine chaps, then, we've got here!"
Shit. Bad choice.
In one swift move the boys both found themselves at either of the navy men's swords, the broad side resting on their shoulders ready to sever their heads.
"Please, sirs."
"No need for formalities, you scoundrels. Now, out with it! Who are you! No lies!"
"We be tellin' y' th' truth, sirs! We t'ain't here t' cause trouble. We're sorry if our kin've caused y' 'arm - we mean not to make it worse an' we don' intend on leavin' more ill 'an wha's already 'ere."
"Your word seems true, but what keeps it so?"
"We've only stopped t' find a new crew t' job for, with th' East Indian Tradin' Company. We're only stayin' s' long." The man who was holding his sword's edge to Sam's throat dropped it. Dean's guard was only more attentive.
"And what of him? He's not said a word."
Quickly Sam chimed in, "'E's a mute, sir. Can't speak a word."
"Then ye be pirates!" Both swords were redrawn with a greater fervor than before., waiting to slice into the neck of a man whose tongue would have been cut out if he had been caught in ill favor elsewhere, not to mention his brother's just for good measure.
"No, sirs!" Sam through in quickly. "Born like 'at, 'e was! Hold out yer tongue!"
Dean aptly opened his mouth. Normally, he'd shoot a glare at Sam first, but this was no time to be contradictory - there were rapiers ready to slice their throats, poised to kill.
"Hm. So he has." The men both paused and then dropped their swords. "Very well. Get on with it, and find a new ship. Make haste, we don't take kindly to sea men who stick around these parts very long who don't belong here by any means."
"Thank y', sirs."
A look of disapproval was enough to act as parting words and the brothers aptly turned and walked towards the landing of Port Royal.
-------------------------
"I'm a mute?" Dead looked at Sam pointedly.
"What? I didn't want you to blow our story with whatever accent you would've pulled."
"Oh, yeah. Yours was so great."
"Hey, at least I got us out of having our heads cut off."
"Yeah, but we still don't really have any leads. All we know is that there's another person on this island named Smith and that he checked a boat in at the dock."
Sam shrugged. "It's a lot more than we usually start with."
Sighing, Dean looked toward the jail. "Let's start there. If he was as much trouble as he sounds like…" His brother nodded in agreement as they made their way to the dank looking building that was obviously the prison.
"'Ello, sir." The prison guard didn't answer. This time, Sam easily explained that they were jobbing shipmen and that their porting captain had come to see if any of his rogue crew had got themselves locked up before leaving Port Royal, and if there were, he'd be offering a bond to bail them out because they needed their entire crew to man the ships. With such an easily accepted story, they were allowed in immediately and were left in the dungeons to see the prisoners for themselves.
It was pretty empty and dark, with most men pushed into the front cells, grouped together, where they discussed lude jokes and whistled to a dog who held the spare set of keys, surely trained to not answer them and merely taunt them with the idea of freedom. Further back, still, though, sat a dark man sitting against the wall, spinning a gleaming coin between his fingers idly.
"Think that's him?" Sam muttered under his breath.
"Not sure. Let's find out."
When they approached the cell they stood for a second without speaking to give the other man time for his eyes to adjust and take in the presence of his visitors. His spinning didn't skip a beat and he hardly had to look up to acknowledge them. "Hello, there. What can I do you?"
"Hi, we're looking for a guy named Smith. You seen him around here?"
"Smith? Not certain. Could have, could have not."
"He was said to be sailing a dark ship…"
"Oh? What kind of dark?" The man didn't seem even remotely interested in what the brothers were saying.
"Pirate-dark."
"Oh. Well that's not unusual for these parts."
"This ship is. It's rumored to be black."
"All pirate sails are black, my boy."
"No. The ship. It's entirely black."
The man stopped spinning the coin and caught it in his now open palm. "All black, then?" He paused to think, it seemed, to Dean. "Who did you say you were, again?"
"We didn't."
"Ah, well, elusive buggers, aren't you?" When neither of them said anything, the man got up. He shook his head to make sure his beaded and tied strands of hair fell away from his face. He itched his nose with the back of an extremely ring-clad hand covered in dark earth, then stroked his chin, which had plaits of facial hair running down on either side. "Interesting… Then you've heard the rumors, lads?"
"Not… exactly."
"It's said the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow's back, and he's brought the Pearl to Port Royal …Or so goes the stories that move on the wind."
"Who's-"
"I don't know more than that. At least, not for the price you're paying me now."
"But we haven't any-"
"There are things more valuable than money, boys…"
"What do you want?" Dean asked, rather dumbly.
"Freedom."
"Tell us what we need and we'll let you out of here."
"Ah-ah," the man with the leather tri-corner shook his finger 'no'. "Break me out first, story later. Think of it as a… reward for your good deed." He smiled slyly.
"Fine." Dean looked at Sam and the younger brother easily fetched the keys from the dog's mouth in the corner. They tried three keys before getting it right and when they did they heard a large clunk, then the groan of the iron hinge letting their charge leave his cell. He graciously tipped his hat and gave them another toothy smile, gleaming brightly with golden caps, then darted towards the door.
"Sorry, mates - have to run. Nice chat, though!" With that, he was gone.
"Great going."
"Shut up. We have bigger things to worry about right now…"
"Like what?"
As the prison guard rushed in gripping his musket, seemingly irate, Sam completely understood what he meant.
"RUN!"
-----------------------
After escaping the guard and hiding out, stealing new clothes so no one would recognize them, and asking around at all the dodgy establishments, Sam and Dean had finally gathered enough to really hunt and close in on their ghostly prey.
They found themselves crouched behind the face of jagged rocks, only twenty feet from the crashing waves beneath them, bathed in half-moonlight from the partly cloud-covered moon as it passing clouds worked across the dark sky. Here they waited for signs of the ship, a ship that was supposedly manned by the undead-damned. Nasty stuff, really.
They had worked out that they would have to ambush it. What then, though? They didn't really know. They'd have to figure it out and run with it.
Suddenly, the air turned frigid and stale and the water lapped at the rocks with a new onset rhythm. Sam caught a glimpse of dark grey-black sails, the topmast painted black to match, the looming figure of a dangerous ship slowly creeping out of the newly onset fog. He reached out and grabbed at Dean's shoulder to get his attention and motioned to the ship that was about ready to sail by them. Dean nodded and stood up, pulling his baby brother up with him. He held out his hand, counted to three on his fingers, and they leapt, swinging out with a rope they had rigged earlier and landed on the deck in one swift, foolhardy move.
They landed with a soft thud, one for each of them, as they looked around at their surroundings. They were instantly surrounded by a handful of ominous looking men with a thirst in their eyes. Shocked and, for once, completely unprepared and unable to immediately talk his way out of the situation, Sam moved his hand to his brother's and clasped tightly, drawing in a breath when another man came forward and joined the circle, walking toward them ominously with a great, horrible grin on his face - the very man they had freed from the prison only days before.
"Hello, gents. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. Welcome to the Pearl."