Supply and Demand 4: Scarce Skills - 5/?

[tari_roo]

Title: Supply and Demand 4: Scarce Skills 5/?
author: tari_roo
Rating: Gen - PG13
Disclaimer: I own nothing and profit from nothing. But if I did, SGA would still on air and Dean would have super powers.

Summary: Life on Atlantis is about to get very interesting as the Trust launch their newest plan. Good thing Dean is still on board, as the 'interesting' gets weird… fast.

Warnings: This is AU for SPN season three onwards and set post season five. No real spoilers for either series but you should really know them both (and now with handwaving of timelines and stuff)

Author note: I'm a little bit nervous about this chapter. I don't usually recommend listening to specific music tracks to fics. I know writers like to share what they were listening to when they wrote fic and I usually ignore it. However, this time, I do recommend queing up the song mentioned in this chapter and listening to it as you read the last part. The reason I'm nervous is that I don't generally like song-inserts in fic myself (even though I did it in Here Tomorrow) and now I've done it again. No apologies though, it fit the scene and Dean, so I went with it. Your comments and thoughts are as ever appreciated.



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Chapter 5

The second Ronon walked him into the triage area of the Infirmary, Sergeant Pete descended on them, already scanning both of them for injuries. Very familiar with the emergency medical procedures, Ronon shoved Dean towards the Sgt. and said, "He fainted. Blood-loss probably."

Both ignored Dean's pathetic attempt to protest that he fainted, because he didn't. Pete glared at Dean, eyes narrow and sharp and hissed, "Not the first, won't be the last. Sit there, please." The hot triage gurney was clean and neat, and Ronon shot him an amused look, before ducking out. He had no interest in poked and prodded just yet. Dean sighed, still feeling very light-headed and wobbly but determined not to look it. Pete grunted as he quickly checked Dean out, searching for hidden injuries and indications of internal bleeding and checking his vital signs.

"We're running low on plasma, unsurprisingly. Carson is negotiating with Wallstreet about sending down the uninjured to donate blood in between making those weird ass balloons of yours." Pete's voice was soft as he briskly and efficiently slapped adhesive sutures on the dozens of deep cuts on Dean's arms and legs. "That slice will need actual sutures. Someone, probably me, will swing by just now. For now, you sit tight and don't go anywhere." Short, efficient and to the point. Assessed and categorised in seconds.

Pete marked his tablet and put a green dot next to Dean's name before helping him to stand. "This way." The Infirmary had spilled over into the surrounding rooms, what with most of Medical One still quarantined and covered in creature blood. Fortunately, there were more walking wounded than actual critical injuries, but the surgeons were nonetheless busy with the severely injured and supplies were running low. Blood-loss and fatigue were the main complaints and concern. A general feeling of gritted determination ran through the rooms, with an undercurrent of fear and anxiety. Uncertainty over the situation. Worry about friends and colleagues still fighting. Pete led Dean to a makeshift bed, next to a few heavily bandaged Marines who were sleeping. "If no one comes by in the next fifteen, holler. You need a plasma bag and sutures, got it?"

Dean nodded, and sat, grateful for the respite, despite the guilt that surged as he thought of the rest of the Marines and personnel still fighting. He'd rest for a few minutes, get some fluids replaced and then head out again, AMA if need be. He tuned his comm. to the busiest channel, Wallstreet's, and listened to the chatter. Things were under control, barely, but the lines were holding in the safe zone and that was the main thing. The biggest issue was resources, people. Medical needed blood donors and assistance. Wallstreet needed people to check the traps, make grenades and run supplies to various places. The Majors all needed replacements and fresh faces to secure a perimeter so that there were no more surprises.

"Winchester?" Dean looked up at the young corpsman who unapologetically yawned back at him. "Yeah?"

"Let's sort that arm out."

The young man was efficient with the local and then brisk with the needle so that within a matter of minutes the cut was sutured and he had an IV attached to a plasma bag. "Just lay back and try to rest." Dean nodded and grimaced as muscles protested and more cuts screamed as he moved. It felt really weird lying down, listening the hustle and bustle of City in his ear, the steady thrum of emotions burning through his nerves. Sleep was going to be impossible. He barely noted the young man's departure.

The last thing Dean heard was Wallstreet's New York accent as he berated some poor soul named Greenberg about screwing up the blessing on the holy water. Again.

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The smell of blood, rotting creature and death in the room was getting overwhelming and Teyla was contemplating leaving the room for a moment of fresh air when John and Rodney arrived.

"Oh, gah! What the hell?" Rodney blanched and nearly gagged, backing out of the immediate area quickly. He slapped a hand over his face, eyes bugging out. Sheppard looked a bit wane himself and gulped a bit. "You ok?" he asked, scanning his friend. Teyla nodded, a small smile on her lips. "I am well, thank you. You, however, look awful."

"Thanks." Sheppard smiled and then nodded at Novak, who saluted sharply. "Colonel, sir."

"What have you found?" John sounded flat, but there was an edge of nervous energy about him. Teyla led him towards the small computer with the exchange of messages. "Mostly this. I don't recognise the system."

Rodney, his face a picture of nausea called from the other side of the room, "Can you bring it over here?" He was desperately trying to reign in his gag reflex and still be useful. He was hunched over his knees, taking shallow breathes. Sheppard held up a hand and said, "Probably not. It's connected to some serious looking encryption equipment. I can recognise that much."

"Shit," McKay growled and bustled over, cheeks puffed up as he tried not to breath in the blood-thick air. He shoved Sheppard to one side, officiously sidestepped Novak and began tapping away at the little console. Giving him room, Teyla and Sheppard stepped back and John said, "You found zat'nik'tels?"

Teyla nodded and showed him the crate in question. "We also opened a few more and they contain mostly computer equipment and various pieces of technology. The parts are not familiar to me, and I don't know why a scientist would need them…" John picked up a few of the random pieces of tech in the crates and studied them. Some looked earth made, others looked alien. It was a mismatch of random tech, with nothing really seeming to match or fit together. "Weird."

"Indeed, it is most curious, but hardly helpful." Teyla sighed, fighting a yawn herself and continued, "How are things in the rest of City, John? Are we making progress?"

John shrugged, blinking his eyes, and winced as the motion pulled a cut. "Honestly, I have no idea. Things seem to be under control but like any combat situation, it can change in an instant." He leant against one of the crates, and Teyla sat on one opposite to him. "We just need to create a secure barrier so we can rest, regroup and try kick the things out. Hopefully Wallstreet is on that. Teldy reached Durov and they are mopping up together. Lorne is still making his way in and Kalen's supporting Wallstreet."

Nodding, Teyla yawned, her smile sad. "Good. We all need rest and time to plan."

"Sir?" Private Novak's voice was stiff and formal, but there was a note of interest. Looking up, Sheppard quirked an eyebrow at the Marine and then frowned when he saw what he was holding up. "Is that a…?"

There was an open crate in front of the man, and Novak held out a gold bar, the metal surface dull and scratched but was of more interest was the swastika symbol embedded in the surface. "Nazi gold?" Rodney squeaked, looking up from the console, his mouth open. Novak handed the Colonel the bar and John stared at the thing. It looked old, real beat up and worn. The swastika though was very clear and unmistakable. What were the odds of that symbol randomly occurring on an alien world? Slim.

"What's a Nazi?" Teyla asked. Still seated, Sheppard grunted, "Long story, bad guys from Earth. Lost a war long ago. This is bizarre and worrying - for a whole lot of reasons." Rodney suddenly next to them and peering into the crate, muttered loudly, his face lost in a glow of shiny gold. "It's like a frigging Indiana Jones movie. Mysterious messages to unknown evil forces, Nazi gold and monsters from another dimension." He hauled out another couple of bars and beamed, "We don't need to tell the SGC about this, do we?"

Novak's face said it all, his expression one of real discomfort of potential rule-breaking. "How about you get back to checking that console out and find out who our dead spy was talking to?" John smiled at Rodney's expressive huff.

"Why don't you have a look at that fancy screen thing he had, Colonel? Do something more useful than warm that crate," Rodney barked, but he obediently returned to the console, shooting the gold bars a covert glance. Sheppard didn't move. The screen thing could wait for later - how it worked and where it had come from was low on his list of things to give a shit about. Teyla was still confused about the consternation the gold created and she asked, "Why are these Nazi's, or their gold, concerning?"

Before Sheppard could answer, Private Novak said smoothly, "Miss Emmagen, it is more their rarity than their source that is concerning, I assume." He looked at Sheppard, who nodded.

"Yeah, there have been rumours about lost Nazi gold for years. The fact that at least a crate has found its way to Atlantis is staggering. How does a rare earth artefact end up on a secret base in another galaxy?" Sheppard turned the bar in his hand, so that its surface shone. "I hope to hell that we're not dealing with alien Nazi's or shit like that."

The dismissive noise from Rodney was loud and he laughed, "Ha! Not likely, Sheppard. More like the Trust have been digging around Earth again and have been more successful than the SGC or NID realised. Squirrelling away all sorts of shit - treasure and stuff."

"The Trust?" Sheppard asked, handing Novak the bar.

Rodney nodded, "Yep. I recognise this mix of tech. It's a hybrid of earth proto-type crap and go'auld, with random nonsense in-between. Keeping this stuff running must be a nightmare." Sheppard rolled his eyes and tried to share a knowing look with Novak, who stared back at him blankly. Caught a little off guard, John caught Teyla's smile and shrugged. "What does it do?"

Obscured by the console, the top of his head barely visible, Rodney's voice was muffled as he grumbled, "Most of it is designed to hide the sub-space signal from us. There's a pretty cool transmitter back here, and then loads of components to mask the signal, make it look like one of ours, or just background noise, as it were." Rodney stood up, his hair awry, eyes wide, an expression of irritated excitement on his face. He sat down at the console, careful to keep out of the dried pools of blood and started typing furiously on the keyboard.

"I doubt that they would be stupid enough to conveniently keep their evils plans in a folder called 'Evil Plans' but let's see what's on here."

Teyla and John nodded, while Private Novak maintained his carefully blank expression. Or that was his normal expression, one of mild but patient confusion. Sheppard wasn't too sure. He listened in on the comm., flipping through a couple of channels to hear how the various teams were doing. Nothing overly dramatic had happened it seemed, aside from Lorne and his platoons reporting on more portals on the West Pier.

"Rodney?"

McKay grunted, and replied, "Nothing really. Mostly talk about testing something out. The gold they were going to melt for some go'auld tech it seems, but the rest is in bits and pieces."

John sighed, "We don't need to know everything about what the Trust is doing. We can sort through that later. We need to know how to stop these things."

McKay whirled on the chair, still typing, but eyes firmly glaring at Sheppard. "I think if the idiot-spy here knew how to stop these flying monsters, he would have. Before they ripped him apart!"

"Or he did, and was unable to do so, before being overwhelmed?" Novak's tone was thoughtful, and tentative. To his credit, he wasn't fazed by the mega-glare sent his way by McKay.

"Leave the thinking up to those with degrees, kay! You hold the gun and shoot the gun."

"McKay." John knew he sounded tired and frustrated, but exhausted, cranky McKay was a little more than he wanted to deal with right now. Sitting down had been a bad idea. The mere idea of standing was enough to make John cry. Actual tears. His day had started with a black run with Ronon. Hell, that alone usually guaranteed an early night. Dawn was barely an hour away and there was no real solution in sight - just more hiding behind Satanic symbols and salt.

The touch of a gentle hand on his shoulder startled him and Sheppard looked up at Novak, who nodded calmly before saying, "I'm sure the answer will come." Trying not to look too confused, lest he offend Novak, Sheppard nodded back. McKay though was still in full swing, and John tuned into the ongoing ramble, which hadn't really stopped.

"I mean it's fairly obvious after Catastrophe that the Trust are well and truly here, but I didn't think that they'd be so firmly embedded into Atlantis. Our dead spy is Dr Edwards and he'd been here a year already. Xeno-archaeology. Actually wrote a few papers and did real work in-between all the spying stuff. I think… I think… yep, they have a base, but…. nothing about it's location."

Grimacing as he wiped his face and dried blood flaked off, Sheppard sighed, "Assuming they turned some alien tech on, if they were testing something, that tech is what is creating the portals?"

Rodney nodded, still typing and scrolling through various screens, "Yep, talk here about planning the test, and Edwards acknowledging receipt of the turtle. I don't think though they were expecting the portals and stream of screaming monsters though."

"Ya think, Rodney?"

McKay didn't bother to reply, instead he hmmed to himself and then squeaked in excitement, "They thought it was a mind-control device! Ha! Morons. Probably got the translation wrong!"

"That's disturbing," Sheppard mused, and both Teyla and Novak nodded.

"Agreed, but why would the Trust be interested in mind-control?" Teyla asked. Novak looked equally interested in the answer, his curiosity getting the better of his expressionless face. Before John could answer, McKay laughed nastily, "Oh, who knows. After Baal's death you would have thought that the Trust would have disappeared, but nope, here they are. Still sneaking around with Evil Plans."

Narrowing his eyes, John nodded, and added, "We don't know who is running the Trust now, but the fact that they had Winchester and were here in Pegasus means they must have larger scheme or goal. Maybe Rodney can find something useful…"

"Hey!"

"Needless to say, it is imperative that you discover their true motives," Novak said, with some finality. Sheppard gave Novak a cool look but said, "Ya think?."

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The tension in the Gateroom was bearable now, but after hours of constant stress and worry battering at her mental shields, Charlie had a rather large headache. Hiding under her workstation had helped, as often being out of sight seemed to work, like not being able to see the source of the emotion made it less real. Chuck was helping Wallstreet and Mikilai was co-ordinating with Durov and Teldy. That left her Major Lorne who was sweeping through the City, heading west, making sure that there were no stragglers. Most of his Marines had already come in for medical checks and rest. Lt Kalen was securing the Tower, making 100% certain that all traps and salt lines were holding.

If Charlie was honest though, most of her headache though was from the civilians. Everyone was busy with something, either with a Marine squad, making holy hand grenades or assisting in medical, but that didn't stop a steady stream of requests for information and progress. Chuck pulled rank and just sent all of the queries to her. It wasn't like there was a general update she could just send out on the civilian channels - it was all more of the same - we have no idea when it'll stop, the military are working on it.

If Dr Freeman and his cabal called her one more time….

"Charlie, evacuation of Xeno-bio is complete. We're starting on Xeno-Zoo now. Dr Hoshi's got most of the critters out, but they lost all of lab 2 and most of lab 3." Charlie noted it on her tablet, marking the contents of Lab 2 in the casualty column.

"Roger that, . You and Jones managing?"

"Wouldn't say no to another squad. And breakfast. Jones says definitely breakfast."

Pulling up the kitchen rosters, Charlie yawned and replied, "I'll see what I can do about another squad. Breakfast though... let me see what I can do. Central out."

Lt Kim signed out and Charlie stared at the rosters. Chuck had missed his surf report this morning, but the rosters were still valid for the week. The likelihood of normal gate travel occurring today was highly unlikely, and Charlie quickly worked through the scheduled gates for the day, marking those that were critical. KP and Mess hall duty was next, and with Mess Hall 3 still a blood covered battle field, Maguire and his team would have to…

Keying her comm, and locating Maguire, Charlie pipped him, "Hey, Sgt. You on top of feeding the starving hordes?"

Maguire sounded like he was battling monsters, which was a real possibility, but he replied calmly, "I've commandeered Mess Hall Two. Wallstreet pulled Harker and Tucker. I've lost most of my team to Wallstreet, but we should have something ready for the hordes. Damon, that's burning!"

Charlie updated her tablet and said, "Hang tight, I'm updating the morning info burst. You ok with a …" she looked up to check the chronometer on the Gateroom wall. Little less than an hour to dawn and it looked like folk would be camping out in the safe zones to catch some sleep. "Kay, shoot, what are you prepping?"

Maguire took a second to answer, the background hubbub of the kitchen in Mess Hall 2 rising. "Cold breakfast. Sandwiches, fruit, no… leave that, its no good, but we'll set up coffee and almost-coffee in the safe zones. Hell, we'll run out some packed meals to the squads as well. Civs can troop down to us once Wallstreet lets them go."

Charlie nodded and belatedly replied, "Fabulous. Updating and sending. Woolsey just sent through the revised roster for today, and yep, as expected, all gate travel is cancelled. Central out."

Overhead, thunder crashed and a gust of rain beat at the windows. While day long rainstorms were fairly normal on Lantea during the summer, or so Charlie had read, 24 hours of straight thunderstorm was unusual. In all likelihood, it wasn't a thunderstorm but was a Lantean version of a hurricane, and it sure as hell added to the mood of the City.

Idly, Charlie checked the various City systems, wilfully ignoring the insistent pips from Dr Freeman, or whoever it was in zone 2, probably Freeman. It looked like the City was riding out the storm just fine, despite the monsters appearing all over the place. That at least was good news.

Rolling her eyes, and not bothering to hide her irritation, Charlie answered the pips, "Central, Charlie."

"I did not sign onto the Atlantis programme so that I could fill water balloons. My fingers are numb! I demand to speak to Director Woolsey." Charlie grinned, "Please put your complaint in writing, Dr Cooper. Or add it to the forum, "I didn't sign up for this" on the secure chat service. It'll be attended to in due course. Central out."

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Dean went from a state of deep exhausted sleep to wide awake in a heartbeat. Hell, his heart was pounding like mad and it felt like something heavy was pressing down on his body. Hyper alert, Dean looked around, half-certain that he'd see the infirmary under attack or something.

Across the room, Carson was talking to very groggy looking Marine, while checking his vital signs. Pete was bustling around, his pace no more hurried or anxious than usual. Lying in the bed next to him, Corporal May slept on oblivious, while two beds over Sanchez snored. Concerned that he'd failed to note that his friend was two beds over, Dean sat up, careful of the IV. He ached, and all sorts of cuts and scrapes protested the movement but nothing seemed terribly wrong with him either. In fact, Dean felt a hundred times better after a brief sleep, and the plasma no doubt.

Reaching out just a little to take in the mood of the room and the wider City, Dean felt a stream of calm-worry-determined-we-got-this from most people. The general feeling didn't change any further out, and in fact, his senses hit a brick wall of sheer glee from a squad of Marines who were laughing about something. Everything seemed fine. So what had woken him up?

Someone had taken his comm. off, so he picked it up and placed it in his ear. The military channels sounded fine, and there was a steady stream of complaints on the civilian channels. Dean couldn't pick up Sheppard anywhere, but Woolsey was on beta-four, co-ordinating schedules with various staff sergeants and Wallstreet.

Still ill at ease, Dean swung his legs over the bed, ready to leave. Pete shot him a 'don't' you dare!' look and Dean paused, a guilty smile on his face. Carson was also looking at him, more with concern than ire, so Dean stayed seated on the bed. Without really thinking about it, he let his empathic senses flood out, seeking for the disturbance. He didn't usually do this, and it was probably an indication of just how tired he was, that he did so. Normally, Dean kept his empathic senses carefully controlled. Two years of being unable to stop so much as a random spike of anger from giving him a headache, let along his own emotions leaking all over the place, had ensured that now he kept his abilities under careful reign. It had been years since he'd done this, just let the barriers go. Actively seek out something.

Sam had often asked him to do this. Get a feel for a haunt. Pick up the ambient emotions of a ghost or creature they were hunting.

It felt liberating.

The swirling, chaotic emotions of the people in Atlantis rushed at him, and with his barriers firmly in place, it was like water lapping at his feet, rather than a wave drowning him. Charlie, a bright spark of empathic pulse, was in the Gateroom, her exhausted enthusiasm muted. Teldy, also peaked with exhaustion, was eating - happy contentment and weariness- and she was talking to gruff, excited and anxious Durov. Teyla and Sheppard were nearly subsumed by McKay's rioting emotions of anger, excitement, exhaustion and fear. But they were amused about something, although Sheppard was a black hole of tiredness. There was a weird pocket of blankness near Sheppard, but Dean didn't focus on it for long. Kim and Jones were arguing about something, their emotions rife with feelings of camaraderie and irritation. Ronon was dogging Lorne's heels, his grim enjoyment at shooting things a stark counterpoint to Lorne's need to just lie down.

Everything seemed fine. Or as fine as it could be. Mixed in with the steady stream of emotions from the mix of humanity in Atlantis, there was a sharp, angry, roaring hunger from the monsters. Emotions from non-humans felt or tasted different to Dean. Usually, emotions came as sharp, intense sensations, colouring his mind with the depth of their range and complexity. Monsters though were far less vivid or intense. Ghosts leaked a single, solitary emotion usually, caught in the loop of whatever was keeping them around. Usually ghosts felt like quiet sadness and grief. Demons reeked of anger and hatred but it was muted, like it was something they barely thought about, more consumed with hurting others. The average monster was a mix of muted needy hunger. Vampires turned the volume up on hunger, so much that it drowned out anything else.

The creepy-as-hell, flying blue freaks swarming the City projected the usual mix of monster emotions. Needy hunger, muted anger, hatred. The need, the desire to rip and kill. Anger at the salt. Fury at the holy water. Fear of the traps.

Even with the hundreds, probably thousands of them in the City, their emotions were still dull compared to the intense human ones. Sam had wondered if it had something to do with monsters not having souls…

A piercing lance of fear shattered his thoughts. Dean caught the spike of sheer terror from Lorne and Ronon before the secondary, violent wave of vile hatred crashed into his field, bowling him over figuratively.

There was nothing muted about that hatred. It was sharp, clear and Dean felt bile rise in his stomach, his heart pounding. Something big had arrived and it hated him. Hated everything. The City, the people, the light. It's hatred felt so real and so close, Dean was standing and running before he thought about it.

Stunned silence fell over the infirmary, and someone screamed. Dean wasn't the only one feeling this. Pete was on the floor, clutching his head, screaming. Carson had staggered against the bed, his face white, hands tight on the sheets. Across the City, the human inhabitants' emotions went from a steady, calm mix to sheer, blind fear.

Raw hatred battered at his barriers, and Dean poured hard-won determination into his mental-shields as he ran. He left the Infirmary, feet beating a frantic rhythm on the floor, arms pumping as he ran. He passed Marines on the floor, holding their heads, people staggering and crying as the powerful torrent of hatred, fear and venom overwhelmed him. Dean only had a vague idea where he was going. Lorne and Ronon had felt the attack first and Dean sped towards where he'd felt them last. He couldn't feel anything from them at the moment. The comm. was quiet. No one was calling for help, but their unvoiced screams joined in the storm of emotions battering at Dean.

Adrenalin surged through him, feed by panic and fear, and Dean flew down several flights of stairs, before leaping into a transporter and hitting the symbol for the West Pier without much thought. He was running the second he appeared and ran through the open doors onto the pier. Lorne's crumpled body was the first thing he saw, Ronon lying prone next to him. The squad of Marines were a few feet away, only one of them still writhing, holding his head and silently screaming, his open mouth a rictus of pain.

The violent emotion attack was even stronger on the pier and Dean looked across the wide metal surface and felt fear curl in his stomach as his eyes tracked the source. A massive portal was opening in the air above the far end of the pier. A trickle of tiny creatures were emerging, their cries lost over the noise of the waves and ocean. It was only trickle because a freaking huge head was emerging through the growing portal. It didn't look exactly like the smaller monsters who were all mouth and teeth, claws and wings. This thing didn't seem to have a mouth, or even eyes. The smooth, round head was mottled with the same blue-grey skin, and there was a pattern, lines darting over the skin. As Dean stared, frozen in place, more of the head emerged, and long, thin tentacles dropped from holes near where its jaw would be. A massive neck cleared the portal and around the oval head, more tentacles appeared.

The battery of hatred increased, and the tentacles struck the pier, and shit, they were not small or thin. They were massive, thick and muscled. One of the tentacles was reaching for Ronon and Dean darted forward, crying out, fear and anger rising in him. The pier was large - it was big enough to hold the Daedalus when they felt the need to actually land, and the tentacles were just able to reach the Marines collapsed near the door. Furious, Dean pulled at the ambient electricity from the real storm-clouds overhead. Desperate to stop the monster and protect the Marines and Ronon, he shot an arc of electricity at the tentacles, screaming at the top of his lungs.

His offensive hit the tentacles and the huge monster screamed - despite having no mouth with which to do so. Taking advantage of the space the withdrawing tentacles gave him, Dean ran ahead, and stopped a few feet in front of Lorne. Yelling again, he shot more electricity at the portal and giant head. More tentacles appeared and stabbed at him. Most he caught with the long arcs of power he was tossing around, and the few that got through, he shocked the second they were close enough. Luckily it had stopped raining, but the storm clouds overhead were still heavy with energy and electricity. Pulling more, Dean tossed bolts of power at the portal, and while they all hit, the monster did not retreat, nor did the portal close.

Snaking more tentacles at him, the beast increased the wave of hatred, trying to pierce both his mental and physical defences. Dean staggered at the attack, felt his knees buckle, one foot slipping. Furious, he pulled and pulled and rather than take the electricity into himself and then out, he sent lightning straight at the creature's head. It wailed as the lightning struck and visibly winced, black scorch marks appearing on its skin. Rather than back off though, it moved forward and an enormous leg stepped through the portal, and as its clawed foot struck the pier, Dean felt the thud. "Shit!"

The monster screamed at him, mouthless and furious, and Dean stumbled, the sheer force of hatred staggering. Crying out, he held up his hands and projected a barrier of energy and emotion. Under the barrage of hatred and anger, he dropped to his knees, heart beating like it was about to burst. He was drenched in sweat and his arms were shaking as he tried to hold the barrier, picturing it in his mind, a mental shield. He siphoned power from the storm, but couldn't summon anything more to fight back. Another monstrous leg emerged from the portal, the shudder of its weight rattling Dean's bones.

The monster screamed, triumph and victory colouring the vile emotions battering at him. waves of anger, hatred and whatever psychic ability this thing had crashed against his flimsy shield, and it felt like he was trying to stop the wind. Dean swallowed, his eyes fixed on Ronon. His friend was unmoving, ears bleeding, hand outstretched towards his gun. Dean couldn't see his face, but the wind was blowing his dredds, his white shirt mottled with blood. He couldn't fail. He was the only thing between this monster and the City. The only one able to help.

Dean tried to dig deep, tried to suck more power from the storm, tried to stand. His legs were shaking under the weight of the attack on the barrier. How could emotions weigh anything? Feeling massively out of his depth, Dean tried to find a centre of calm, a source of emotional strength, but each time he held onto a piece of centre, it scattered, lost under the barrage of hate. His own fear was weakening him. He had to stop this thing, otherwise his friends, his new home was lost. Who knew what the psychic attack was doing to them?

More creatures were flyng overhead, their muted hatred joining in with the Big Boss monster and shit, but Dean had no extra lives, no reset, no saved game. This was it. He had to win, right now!

He closed his eyes, feeling the barrier weaken, and gritted his teeth. There had to be something…

"Hey, hang on. Don't let go."

Soft, warm hands touched his shoulders. A gentle voice filled with fear and determination whispered in his ear. "Don't let go."

Dean opened his eyes and Charlie beamed back at him, her face pale, eyes wide, but her smile was genuine. He looked at the barrier overhead, barely visible but sparking with power and energy, shuddering under the strain of the invisible wave of hatred. "I can't hold it much longer."

Charlie squeezed his shoulders, her shuddering frame pressed against his back and shoulders. "Well, whatever you are doing, it helped me get here. I was barely able to think, breath with all that alien anger pounding at me, and then… it stopped. Er, weakened, so I came running."

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Dean hissed, "Great, so two of us can watch me fail. I can't… shit…" Dean felt the barrier crack, a snap of something in his mind and the monster shrieked at him, yet another leg appearing. Three legs! It wasn't in too much of a hurry to walk over here and stomp on him, but then with a psychic attack, who needed brute force. Charlie winced with him and he felt her empathic ability brush against his mind.

"Can I help?"

"Hell if I know. Try."

Charlie's mental touch was hesitant. Careful. His entire life Dean had only ever felt the mental touch of a Kinetic and even Sam's had been a hard, demanding link. He'd never really had the chance to interact with another empath and given the need for most empaths to hide their ability, Dean had never expected to. Charlie's mind, her empathic field felt warm, soothing as it touched his. Not demanding, no pull. Just a steady heartbeat of similar power, with a distinct taste that was all Charlie, a bright, funny woman with a knockout smile.

"Who the hell is Fluttershy?" he asked and Charlie blushed. "Shut up. Is it working?"

Was it? Dean took in a deep breath and stretched his mental muscles, and the barrier hardened, grew. He felt less tired, more buoyed by hope. Glad that he wasn't alone anymore. Charlie's smile was so wide, her excitement infectious. "I've never done this before. Wow." It was a rush, being connected like this, Charlie's steady emotions buffering his, mentally holding hands and standing firm under the assault.

The Big Boss screamed at them and Dean climbed to his feet, hauling Charlie with him. "You keep feeding the barrier. I'm going to try throw some more lightning at it."

"Er? Wait, what?" Charlie stammered and Dean squeezed her hand. When had they started holding hands? She squeezed back, fear and worry visible on her face and very clear in her aura. "I don't … seriously, I have no idea how you are doing this."

Breathing deep again, and trying to reach the calm state Teyla was teaching him to reach during their sessions, Dean smiled at her. "I have no idea either. I just do it."

"Oh great, instinct magic. Erm… so what, think happy thoughts?" Her voice was soft and he barely heard her over the ocean and waves, and the creatures screaming. The wind was tossing her hair, dark red tangles brushing her face, eyes wide and scared.

Dean shrugged and projected as much confidence at her as possible. "Whatever works. I'm not going to drop it, but Fugly over there isn't going to patiently wait for us to figure this out, so…" Sure enough, Fugly was moving forward, more of it appearing through the portal, and shit, it was huge. It dwarfed some of the smaller buildings nearby and while its attack of hate had lessened with their shielf, it was still battering the rest of the population in the City. Hell, it was dragging itself out of hell, and screaming with triumph.

Something hard and flint-like flickered in her eyes and Charlie held his gaze. "Kay, let's do this," she said firmly and dropped his hand and glared at the monster. His hand felt cold and empty and for a second the barrier faltered. Dean pulled more electricity and directed a stream of lightning at the monster. Charlie squeaked and the wave of hatred intensified as she struggled to hold the barrier. Fortunately the lightning storm hit the monster and it screamed in real pain this time, smoke rising from its skin. It staggered a little, legs wobbling, and the intensity of the emotional attack faded.

Dean grabbed Charlie's hand again and said, "Don't let go. We can do this." Wanly, she nodded, her freckles stark on her pale face. Very shaken, her empathic field was wobbly and Dean poured more energy into the barrier. "I don't think happy thoughts are enough, Dean."

"Of course not, Granger." She smiled at the name and Dean continued, "Emotions focus us. They are part of our power, but not the source. Think positive and focus on strengthening the barrier. Imagine you are pouring power into it, or something. It's not the thoughts themselves - it's you, your ability that matters."

She looked sceptical but nodded. "Kay."

This time when Fugly recovered and hammered at their paltry little shield, Charlie held. She shrieked a little with excitement and the barrier grew. Rather than risk electrocuting her, Dean focused on pulling lighting from the clouds and hammering the portal and the beast directly. It was hard work, the clouds were not as heavy with electricity and potential any more. Charlie was sweating, her eyes fixed on the monster, but their barrier was growing, strengthening. She was a natural, once she found her confidence. Instead of sparking with electricity, the shield took on a gold hue, energy rippling over it. Together, they stepped forward, and Dean sent more lightning at the monster. He caught several swarms of the littler creatures as well, and rocked Fugly back. The beast roared and its legs trembled but it stayed put.

For several long minutes, that was all they did. Charlie grimly focusing on the barrier, pouring all of her determination and power into it, while Dean hammered the massive beast, sending millions of volts of electricity at it. Over and over again, the lightning hit, filling the air with the smell of ozone and burnt flesh. Fugly screamed, and writhed, lashing out with tentacles and hatred. The tentacles bounced off the barrier, and the pair had a scary moment when a tentacle slipped past and nearly grabbed a Marine before Dean shocked it.

Bolt after bolt, Dean waited for the monster to crack, to give up. Charlie was shaking under the pressure, her palm slick under his. After a particularly vicious salvo, Dean paused, chest heaving from the exertion, sweat dripping into his eyes. Surely that had done it. Charlie was sagging against him, her hair wet with sweat. The monster was briefly obscured by smoke from the strikes and burning flesh, but a stiff ocean breeze, that sent goose-bumps over their skin, also cleared the smoke. Despair stabbed at Dean's heart. In the clearing smoke, Fugly was still standing, still pushing through the portal. More tentacles were appearing and all they had managed to do was get it to take one step back, as only two legs were visible. Severed tentacles dotted the pier, but the rest of it was still very much 'there' - and it was seriously pissed off.

A thin rip appeared on its skin and slowly a mouth opened. There were no teeth, just a dense black, empty hole. When it screamed, Dean and Charlie screamed too, in pain. The torrent of psychic hatred was thick and vicious, and memories of seeing his Dad with yellow eyes cluttered his mind. Under the onslaught their shield nearly broke, shrinking and thinning to something almost not there and Dean staggered under the force of the sheer, vicious, ancient hatred. So much anger, so much gritted determination to end them, to destroy them. Charlie was crying, tears streaking her face and unexpectedly she shouted, "Expecto Patronum!"

Unbelievable, the shield held, gold and bright. "What?" Dean gasped, chasing away the memories of invisible claws shredding his chest.

"Shut up. Hit it again!" Charlie was furious. And scared. Very very scared. But she gripped his hand tightly. "Hit it again!" Her shout was loud, and accompanied by an angry fist pointed at the beast.

As if summoned by her anger alone, a solitary holy hand-grenade arced through the air, the most un-aerodynamic flying glove ever seen and splatted against Fugly. Just like the smaller creatures, Fugly screamed as the holy water burnt it. "Ready salvo two!"

Dean and Charlie turned around, as one. Behind them, Colonel Sheppard was standing next to several lines of Marines and other military personnel, each armed with make-shift catapults and launchers, the front rows kneeling, the rear rows standing. They had the doors covered, and were ready to fire. "Row one, fire! Row two!"

Behind them, a steady line of people were stacking balloons, while more people arrived, armed with P-90s and stunners. Wave after wave of grenades flew into the air, landing with scary accuracy, and Fugly shrieked. Tentacles darted to reach the soldiers and together Charlie and Dean strengthened the barrier, widened it and stretched it higher and Dean channelled more electricity into it. Combat medics were pulling the unconscious Marines and Lorne to safety. Ronon though was awake, and shaking off any help.

After so much silence, Dean startled as his comm. pipped and Sheppard said, "You heard the lady. Hit it again, Winchester." Dean nodded and reachedupwards. There wasn't much electricity left but he pulled for all he was worth, and shouted as he sent strike after strike of electricity at the big monster. In between his strikes, Sheppard sent a volley of grenades and then P-90 fire. Under such concerted fire, Fugly shrieked and wailed, its legs shaking. It opened its mouth again and Charlie nearly collapsed as the powerful scream hit the barrier. Dean struggled to help her, caught mid-lighting strike and for a moment the barrier faltered. Vaguely, through his own pain, Dean heard the soldiers cry out as the psychic wave hit them, but Charlie recovered and the intensity disappeared. "Sorry, sorry."

Ronon was standing close, his fists clenched, radiating frustration. "This isn't working," he growled. Dean nodded, and sent another bolt of electricity at Fugly. The stupid, ridiculously hard to kill thing wailed but remained stubbornly halfway through the portal. "We have to close the portal!" Dean shouted, speaking to both Ronon and Sheppard.

The portal was massive and would take a huge devil's trap to close. Ronon bit out, "You get me close enough, I'll do it." He held up a can of spray paint and his blaster, a devil-may-care grin on his face. Sheppard piped in, "Can you move the whatever-the-hell force-field you've got? Can you get closer?"

Charlie shot him a look of pure panic and Dean shared the feeling. Looking at Ronon and then Sheppard over his shoulder, he said, "The shield is pretty much the only reason you guys are up and about. Charlie can't hold it on her own and I don't think we should go any closer. We're barely holding it as it is."

"Shit," Sheppard barked, but he waved another volley of grenades, keeping up the barrage. "Any ideas?"

Dean was drawing a blank. He was the best person to get Ronon closer but was it worth the risk of leaving Charlie. If the barrier fell, would he be able to keep Ronon on his feet long enough to draw a devil's trap? The best option was keeping the thing distracted with grenades and lightning, so Ronon didn't have to dodge tentacles and feet. "Uh…"

There was a commotion on the other side of the artillery lines and Maguire shoved his way through the collected soldiers. Hot on his heels was Boyd, a heavy sergeant who worked for Wallstreet. Ignoring Sheppard, they ran towards Charlie and Dean. Maguire's face was red, matching his hair, and he breathed out, "We can help." Boyd nodded, his dark eyes uncertain and for a long moment Dean had no idea what they were talking about.

It was only when Charlie took Maguire's hand and Dean felt the tall Marine's empathic ability that he put two and two together. "Seriously?" Maguire grinned at him wryly and shrugged. Boyd grasped Maguire's hand cautiously and his steady, organised presence joined Maguire and Charlie's. Neither of them were particularly strong empaths, or otherwise Dean would have noticed before now. But their combined confidence bolstered Charlie and she said, "You go. Get Ronon closer and kick its ass."

"Colonel, keep the volleys going. We're figuring this out."

Even over the distance, Dean could feel Sheppard's surprise and confusion, but he nodded and more volleys of grenades arced overhead. Dean reluctantly dropped Charlie's hand and it felt weird. He didn't leave barrier though. "You guys try hold it." Speaking to Maguire and Boyd, he said, "Follow Charlie's lead. Just support her, I think. Imagine the barrier holding." They both looked unsure and over the comm. Sheppard barked, "Hurry it up. We don't have an endless supply of balloons you know!"

Reluctantly, Dean withdrew from the barrier and watched as Maguire and Boyd bolstered Charlie. The barrier looked less sparky and seemed to solidify, a silvery sheen joining Charlie's gold. The other two empaths smiled and as Dean was about to speak, Fugly struck. Perhaps sensing a change in the shield, it opened its mouth and screamed. Boyd fell to his knees, hands in his hair, and Maguire stumbled. Dean caught his arm and steadied the barrier. Charlie gulped, sweating and said, "Its fine, we're fine. Go."

"You're not fine. Damnit…" Dean cursed, torn. Sheppard was glaring at him, urging him to move. Ronon was fidgeting, anxious to get moving, but Maguire and Boyd just weren't strong enough. Over the roars of the monster and the screams of the little ones, a tentacle slammed into the barrier and all four Empaths grimaced. A distant voice cried out, "Hang on, I'm coming. We're coming."

A short, bespectacled man shoved through the Marines, followed by several other scientists. Two were from Xeno-biology and one was dressed in gate-team fatigues. Dean recognised them all but had no idea who they were. When the little Asian man grabbed Boyd's hand, his small empathic ability flooded the connection. The others, all projecting fear and nervousness joined in, their expressions resolute. Charlie was beaming like mad and she gasped, "Trevor, I had no idea!" Trevor, the gate-team guy just shrugged. Dean though wasn't convinced that even four more weak Empaths would help. Charlie though was feeling really positive. "We'll be fine, Dean. Go."

The steady pulse of emotion from the Marines steadily firing at Fugly brushed his mind. Behind them he felt Wallstreet urging his by now exhausted teams of grenade makers on. Sheppard and Teyla were talking, the Athosian standing next to her friend. Teldy and Durov were in the artillery ranks, and for a moment, Dean felt Teldy's affection for him. In fact, the whole pier was rife with feelings of family, affection and utter determination to protect. No one was giving up, even in the face of a giant, faceless monster crawling out of a hell dimension.

"I have an idea," he said. Charlie beamed and Ronon grunted. Tapping his comm. Dean quickly spoke, "Colonel, I need the comm. All channels. I have an idea and I need everyone."

"Winchester, do it. Whatever it is, do it. Just hurry the hell up."

Feeling a rise of nerves and instantly doubting himself, Dean exhaled and piped Chuck. "Chuck, dude. I need you to broadcast to everyone. All at the same time. All channels."

There was a few seconds delay, and Chuck replied, "Er, give me a moment."

Dean motioned for the Empaths to come closer and the small group gathered around him. Licking his lips, he ignored the shrieks from Fulgy across the pier and said, "I know none of you are trained or have really used your abilities." Everyone nodded, bar Charlie who just smirked. "So, here's lesson one. You can siphon emotion, as in you can draw out the anger from a crowd. Make them less angry."

Maguire gave him a quizzical look but the others nodded. His mouth dry, heart pounding, Dean continued, "Lesson two. You can pump up emotion. You can push a crowd from mildly angry to furious." The nods were less enthusiastic and Charlie looked sick, but then there was a tentacle battering at the shield, so maybe that was it. Idly he shocked the thing and Ronon hissed, "Winchester."

Ignoring him, Dean stared at each of the collected empaths, wishing he had more time for this. They were all leaking emotion into the connection, an untrained, worrying river of anxiety and enthusiasm. "Charlie and I are barely holding this barrier and no offense, you guys are awesome for wanting to help, but you won't hold for long. But!" Dean was quick to add the 'but' as Charlie glared at him. "But, if we can get the city behind us, the people of the City feeling good, happy, you can siphon off their emotions and then pump them up even more. Using that hyper emotion, you'll be strong enough to keep the barrier up."

"Say what now?" Trevor gasped, but Dean waved him off, sending reassurance through the shield. Charlie started to say, "I thought you said our power didn't come from emotion…"

Dean shook his head, struggling to find the words for something that came so naturally to him. "Emotions are more than just… feelings. They are hopes and dreams and people's lives. You can use that, bolster your own abilities. Trust me, it'll come naturally. I promise."

Everyone, including Maguire looked uncertain, and Boyd reeked of fear. The little Asian doctor though suddenly beamed, "You mean fight psychic with psychic! Psychic pokemon are weak against other psychics. We use the emotions of the people of Atlantis to attack the beast."

Trying not to look too amused, Dean nodded. It was simplistic, but whatever helped them figure it out. Maguire's expression nearly made him laugh out loud and he did when Charlie bounced on her feet and shrieked, "I love it. Care-bear stare!" Boyd and Maguire looked even more confused at that but Charlie patted Maguire's arm and smiled, "Don't stress. Just follow my lead."

She shoved Dean and said, "You do what you need to. We'll be ready and we'll kick it arse!" The others were less confident, but Dean had to trust them. Overhead, Fugly was roaring like mad, driven into a furious rage by the consistent barrage of grenades. Charlie was gamely holding the shield and dragging the others with her. Reluctantly Dean withdrew partially from the shield and nodded at Ronon. "You ready?"

Ronon nodded sharply. Keying his comm. Dean quashed a flurry of nerves and said softly to Chuck, "Dude, you got everyone on the same channel?"

"No, but everyone is going to hear you." Dean sighed, and very deliberately did not look at Sheppard or anyone behind him. Turning and facing Fugly, he said to Chuck, "I need you to play some music, Chuck. AC/DC, if possible. Something good and loud." There was a collective mutter on the comm. and Chuck gasped, "You serious?"

Still trying not to feel too nervous, Dean sighed, "Dude, just … please." Charlie shot him a winning smile, two thumbs up before grabbing Maguire and the little guy's hands. On the comm. Sheppard barked for silence and then Chuck replied, "Kay, I've got something… coming in a second." Dean gulped and then over the comm. said, "Everyone, listen up. We need you feeling positive, upbeat and … good. Think about Charlie and beating this thing. Ronon and I are going to close the portal. Just… go with it."

No one replied and as the opening chords of 'If You Want Blood' echoed through the comm. Dean felt his heart pick up. "Good choice, Chuck," he grinned, feeling like maybe this could work. Charlie mouthed at him 'You are such a boy!' and Dean grinned at her.

Ronon was looking at him like he was insane and he distinctly heard McKay call him a moron on the comm.. As the beat built, Dean shook off the worry and fear of what people were thinking, and focused on Fugly. It was staring at him, he felt it.

Cricking his neck, and shaking the tension out of his shoulders, he stepped past the barrier and as the beat pounding in his ear reached crescendo, sang along with Bon Scott, "It's criminal!" He punctuated that first line with a massive bolt of lightning. Fugly shrieked and behind him the barrier held, Charlie laughing manically. "Criminal!" Dean built another smaller barrier around himself and Ronon and together they walked forward, Dean hurling more lightning and in the air, volleys of grenades from the rest of Atlantis battered the beast. Stunner fire joined in, and Sheppard's calm presence was tangible amidst the soldiers. It was a growing crescendo of positive, happy feelings, a sheer relief from the hatred battering at them.

At the first line of the chorus, all of the Marines sang along, their voices rising in the air, "If you want blood, you got it! If you want blood, you got it!" The crescendo of emotion was incredible, a hundred fold chorus of peoples' emotions pouring towards Charlie and the empaths. Her barrier grew, fed by Atlantis, strengthened by the empaths and Dean confidently walked forward, tossing another volley of lightning at the monster. It was a reciprocal swing, the more emotion there was, the lighter everyone felt.

Fugly's head swung towards him, like it knew he was the biggest threat, and Dean shouted along with Bon, "Blood in the gutter! Every last drop!" Ronon tracked him, close on his heels, and they approached the portal, its shiny rip in the air dripping creatures. Ronon started shooting the smaller ones, and Dean bobbed his head along with the beat, timing his lightning strikes to the beat. "It's animal!' Behind him and on the comm. people were singing, almost drowning out Bon. Charlie sounded hoarse and her barrier was huge and shiny gold. Sheppard was singing, and seemed to have each of the firing lines timed to the music as well. It all felt electric and wonderful, and even though Dean was running out electricity, the clouds tapped dry, he was still pulling energy from somewhere. The dark buildings of Atlantis were awash with muted light from the portal, Fugly's half-formed head swinging back and forth at the combined attack. They were not giving it a chance to recover. Chuck was singing in Dean's ear, pounding on the desk in the tower and the song was getting louder, like he was turning up the volume deliberately. "If you want blood, you got it! If you want blood, you got it!"

They were close enough to the portal to see through it and it there was a dark, swirling mass of creatures on the other-side. Millions upon millions of them. Dozens of tentacles were bouncing off his barrier, Ronon's fire keeping the smaller creatures away and Dean shouted, "Go, start painting it. I'll cover you." The stream of negative emotion was palpable and Dean dug deep to keep his emotions up, tapping more and more into the rising tide of ecstatic emotion. Away from the combined force of Charlie and the others, it was a lot harder though, but possible.

Ronon didn't pause, he ran forward, shaking the spray can. Dean extended his smaller barrier as much as he could and focused on holding it, keeping the tentacles away from Ronon. Fugly's attention was solely on him, and the weight of its regard was heavy. This close he could see the lines etching its skin, wide mouth lowering like it wanted to swallow him. Charlie was practically vibrating behind her barrier, her emotions sharp and crystal clear - caught up in the moment. Maguire was a steady pulse next to her, the others lost in the swirl of Atlantis.

The guitars wailing in the chorus was accompanied by a growing tide of incredulous joy as Dean's mad plan appeared to be working. As Ronon painted, Fugly was withdrawing, it's head lowering - maybe retreating. The grenades from the Marines were not as numerous, a handful each time, and Dean was struggling to find any electricity to shoot lightning. He was managing only one bolt every now and then. He was drawing from the City itself; he could feel the buzz of energy through his skin.

Ronon was doggedly spraying and Dean stopped trying to shoot lightning when a tentacle nearly took Ronon's head off. Fugly was getting closer, it's mouth open as it tried to reach them, and Ronon stumbled under the onslaught of tentacles and anger. Dean moved closer to him and focused solely on protecting Ronon. Fugly was screaming, no doubt trying to overwhelm their positive energy, and Dean winced at the vile hatred that battered at him. Charlie was flipping Fugly off, her face manic, screaming something at it. They didn't have forever, and as the guitars in the song gave way to the last chorus, Dean shouted, "Hurry!"

Ronon slipped as he neared the end, but the circle closed. Now he just had to draw the inner symbols. Dean normally didn't care for choral stuff but the personnel of Atlantis sounded more like a rock concert. A hundred voices on the comm, all shouting "If you want blood, you got it! I want you to bleed for me!" Ronon, encouraged by the chorus, was spraying like mad, but doing it right and as he finished the last symbol, Fugly roared in pain, its head lifting, legs shuddering.

The portal was closing slowly around its neck, not with the usual snap of the others, and it looked like Fugly was fighting back, pushing on the portal. "Shit!" Fear lacing through him, Dean dropped the barrier and lashed out, lightning snaking from the heavens and spearing it right in the head. The strike was sharp, and Dean felt it in his bones, they were so close. Fugly screamed, mouth wide open and then, abruptly, the portal snapped closed, severing its head which fell with a thud that rattled the pier. It rolled on the surface, and then splashed into the ocean, gone in seconds. The two legs fell like severed tree trunks, one nearly crushing Ronon who neatly rolled out of the way. The weight of the legs rattled the pier. The trailing ends of the song were lost as the collected fighters, military and civilian cheered. "You got it!" Dean sighed. The tinier creatures were circling overhead, screaming, their fury impotent.

Chuck turned down the song and the comm. was filled with the sound of people cheering. In that glorious moment, with the storm tossed ocean spraying his face, wind lifting his hair, Dean watched the rising sun break through the clouds, storm finally sucked dry. Dark grey clouds turned yellow and red as the sun finally showed its face.

As the rays of sunlight hit the creatures, they exploded. Puffs of ash pinpricked the lightening sky, and hordes of the little buggers burnt up in the light. All over Atlantis, creatures and portals disappeared as the sun rose, and Chuck's excited voice screamed on the comm. "They're gone! They're all gone! Sensors are showing nothing!"

The cheers turned to cries of relief and excitement. Charlie was swinging around in Maguire's arms, her laughter audible. Ronon slapped him on the shoulder and grinned, "Good fight." The roar of emotion from the people of Atlantis was a high in and of itself and Dean felt like his grin was about to split his face wide open. On the comm., caught up in the rising tide of sheer joy, Chuck started playing, Shake It Off.

"I stay out too late. I got nothing in my brain."

Dean laughed. McKay was yelling something about ear worms, demanding a change. Charlie was dancing, hell the whole pier was. And then Teldy was in his arms, kissing him like there was no tomorrow.

*sga*spn*sga*spn*sga*spn*sga*spn*sga*spn*sga*spn*sga*spn*sga*spn*sga*spn

TBC

Author's note 2: I realise that Taylor Swift's 'Shake It Off' doesn't fit with the timeline of either shows, but then this is an AU and the SPN and SGA timelines are being handwaved anyway. So, just go with it. Also, it was the next song on my playlist after listening to AC/DC a dozen times as I wrote this, so… it fit.

If you didn't listen along with "If you want blood" I still hope the final scenes worked. I had fun writing this, and hope you enjoyed it too.

Lyrics:

It's criminal
There ought to be a law
Criminal
There ought to be a whole lot more
You get nothin' for nothin'
Tell me who can you trust
We got what you want
And you got the lust
If you want blood, you got it
If you want blood, you got it
Blood on the streets
Blood on the rocks
Blood in the gutter
Every last drop
You want blood
You got it
Yes you have

It's animal
Livin' in the human zoo
Animal
The shit that they toss to you
Feelin' like a christian
Locked in a cage
Thrown to the lions
On the second page
If you want blood, you got it
If you want blood, you got it
Blood on the street
Blood on the rocks
Blood in the gutter
Every last drop

You got it