No Man's Land (1/?)
Title: No Man's Land
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Genre and/or Pairing: eventual Dean/Cas, Chris/Steve, but no pairings yet(hints of onesided Chris/Steve, I guess) This is a Supernatural/Star Trek fusion...with a couple RPS characters thrown in. XD
Spoilers: umm...don't read if you don't want spoilers for Trek 2009
Warnings: is 'this is total mindfuckery' a warning?
Word Count 4, 799
Summary: When Sam Winchester's girlfriend is killed in a tragic house fire, he decides to join his brother in enlisting in Starfleet. Also at the academy are two musicians from different worlds with more in common than they'd have ever hoped, and a half angel trying to find out who he really is. (Yes, I realize this is insane.)
Dear God I fail at getting comfort!fic done on time. And that probably makes me a horrible person. *headdesk*
This is a ‘you’re-awesome-and-I-love-you-and-I-wish-I-could-fix-everything-but-I-can’t-so-I’ll-just-write-you-a-story’ style present for one of my rl best friends, Beth. <3 :) *hugs* Because seriously, if I could magic everything better I would, and I hate feeling like I fail at taking care of people I care about, but writing, that I can do. So at the very least, I can maybe make you smile for a few minutes. :) Hope you like it! I lovfe you! (and yes guys, the ‘f’ was there on purpose. It’s a…thing. That got started because I fail at typing late at night sometimes. XD)
Ok so…some things to know about this one. It makes perfect sense to us, cause me and Beth came up with it at exactly the same moment while watching Star Trek two weeks ago. It went something like this:
Nikki: *looking at Kirk* I want one.
Me and Beth: *thinking* Well he’s nice but…Jensen…Dean…
Me or Beth: *can’t remember who actually said something first* *sigh* Jensen…
And then proceeded happiness over realizing we’d thought of the same thing, and then we proceeded to discuss who on the ship would be who if Dean was captain and…yes. From there, we just knew it had to be a story. ANYWAY. This is a Supernatural/RPS crossover that is also a fusion with Star Trek. Oh yes, it’s all kinds of crazy. Cast of characters:
Kirk- Dean Winchester
Spock- Castiel
Bones- Sam Winchester
Uhura- Jo Harvelle
Sulu- Christian Kane
Chekov- Steve Carlson
Captain Pike- Rufus
Sarek- Michael (as in the archangel. Yup.)
Amanda- Ellen (who is, obviously, not related to Jo in this fic.)
Scottie- Bobby Singer
USS Enterprise- USS Impala (because c’mon…both these ladies are characters in their own right. <3)
Nero- Yellow Eyes
As a whole,
Vulcans- Angels
Romulans- Demons
Vulcan- Aether
Romulus- Hades
Pairings for this will be Dean/Cas and Chris/Steve. Overall this is done Trek 2009 style, but they’ll be elements of TOS because I’m an old TOS fan first and foremost. <3 And, here you go. :P
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There were a lot of ways Dean Winchester had thought about spending the last few days before he joined Starfleet, but transporting from Kansas to Palo Alto for his brother’s girlfriend’s funeral wasn’t one of them. Granted, he didn’t resent that, not at all, he just wished to hell that things hadn’t happened this way, and even though this wasn’t in his plans, his reasons weren’t at all selfish.
Sam was a goddamn wreck, and even if he’d hated having him all the way out in fucking California, he’d never wanted Sam to be anything other than happy. This was his little brother, the kid he’d practically raised while their dad had been off giving his heart and soul and blood to Starfleet. He loved Sam more than anything in the world, and seeing him like this was pretty much tearing his fucking heart out.
The funeral’d been over for a good 30 minutes at least, but he was just standing there staring at the red clay and looking for all the world like a lost puppy. Damn, but Dean fell for those eyes every time. He’d lost the ability to say ‘no’ to Sam the minute Sam had learned how to say his name. But Sam didn’t have to know that.
He stepped up next him to him, nudged him in the ribs and held out his flask. “Here.”
He took it from Dean’s hand with hardly a glance, downed an uncharacteristically big gulp, and Dean almost smiled when he tried to hide his grimace. Not really used to that, are you, Sammy?
He handed it back with barely shaking hands, and he rammed them in his pockets to hide it. “You don’t have to stay here, Dean. I know you’re leaving tomorrow, so-“
“Will you stop? Look I wanna do this with you, ok? You shouldn’t be alone right now, man.” Definitely shouldn’t. Sam got all introspective and shit if you left him to his own devices, and he was in too dark of a place right now for it be good for him to sit thinking about it. Best thing Dean could do was keep him moving, or at the very least get him drunk and let him pass out somewhere he could watch over him. After tomorrow, fuck if he knew who’d be watching over him, and that was the part that had him worried.
It’d been hard enough to make the decision to leave home for Starfleet anyway, but he’d finally done it, telling himself that Sam was right and their dad would be ok on his own. Sam on the other hand wasn’t one of those people that was always ok on his own…and even if he was, Dean didn’t like the thought of letting him try. It’d been hell when Sam left to come out here, and now… Well, he wasn’t sure he could leave knowing Sam was this much of a mess. Again, though, not something he was about to tell Sam. He’d just see how tonight went, and if he needed to miss that transport tomorrow…well, he’d miss it. And he’d try not to think too much about it. Whatever he’d had planned, Sam was his brother. That trumped everything.
Sam hunched his shoulders, seemed to stare even harder into the dirt. Kid was a master at masochism. “If I’d gotten home just a little sooner-“
“Then we’d just have been burying both of you.” He reached up, put a hand on his shoulder and tugged him around enough to face him, insistent. “Sam, look at me, ok? This was not your fault. It wasn’t.”
Again, with the eyes. God, Sam was gonna kill him one day. “You don’t know that, Dean. If I’d been there, if I’d-“
“Look, you can’t do this. You just can’t. You can’t run over every possible scenario, you can’t keep thinking there’s a dozen what if’s that could’ve saved her, because it’s over. It’s over, and it’s done, and even though I’m pretty damn sure nothing could’ve changed this, it seriously doesn’t matter now, because there’s nothing you can do now, and thinking that there could’ve been will just drive you crazy. I promise it will.”
Sam looked away, eyes boring into the granite marker. “I just…I don’t know. Anything.” He swallowed hard, tears spilling out of the corners of his eyes. Dean squeezed hard with the hand he still had on his shoulder, stabilizing. “I was gonna ask her to marry me.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “Come back to Kansas with me.” What the fuck, Dean? That’s the best you can do? Apparently. He wasn’t as good as thinking shit through as Sam was, most of the time. He patted him on the back, a little gentler than he normally would have. “Come have a drink with me, and we’ll figure out what you do from there, ok?”
Sam hesitated, his eyes still lingering between granite and freshly turned earth. “I don’t know, Dean, I…everything’s here. Past 3 years of my life have been here.”
“Yeah, well, the other 19 of them were spent all over the place. This isn’t home, Sam, it’s just…a place you’ve been. And it’s not gonna ever look the same to you, not after this. So why don’t we go back to Lawrence, we get drunk, and we’ll figure something out, ok?”
He took long enough to think about it that Dean was starting to wonder if maybe Sam really was gonna stay out here after all, and that would truly suck because personally he wasn’t a fan of California. But finally, he answered. “Just let me go talk to her parents a sec.”
“Course. Look, I’ll be waitin’ on you somewhere out here. Take your time, dude.”
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
“Here. Have another one.” Dean slid the shot across to him, mostly coordinated, and Sam was starting to wonder absently just how fucking much his brother’d been drinking while he was gone. Seriously, this was kind of ridiculous. He’d lost count of drinks awhile back, and even though he couldn’t remember when he’d felt this trashed, Dean was still looking pretty alright. Well, relatively speaking.
Not that being trashed was gonna stop him from drinking this next shot. Jess was dead, and fuck if he knew where he was going from here. He knocked his shot against Dean’s, frowning a little when some alcohol splashed over his fingers. Ah well. He’d just barely finished knocking his back when he noticed Dean’s was still full in his hand, his attention caught elsewhere.
Sam craned his neck to find what he was looking at, his movement slow because of the way his vision swam when he turned. Over to the right there was a blonde leaning up against the bar that had to have been 2 or 3 years younger than Sam at least, and Dean was very studiously giving her a good once over. God, seriously?! Ok, so maybe it wasn’t Dean’s girlfriend who’d just died, but did he have to be checking her out that much right then? Seriously?
He turned back around to face his brother, gripping the table for support when he felt himself almost lose his balance. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
Dean shrugged, had the decency to look a little sheepish. “C’mon, Sam…dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”
“Oh you don’t? You gonna take her home?”
That he balked at, scoffing. “Sam, seriously? You know I wouldn’t do that.” Sam laughed, opened his mouth to rebuke him but held off when Dean held a hand up. “Ok, no, I’d absolutely do that, but not today. I mean, under other circumstances, sure, but now? I’m just lookin’.” He grinned, wolfish, his eyes scanning over her again. “No harm in that, right? I just happened to notice she was there, and it seems a waste to not even look, you know?”
Of course it would, because this was Dean. And honestly, as hard as Dean was obviously trying to help hold him together, he couldn’t really be pissed. He shook his head, smirking. “Alright. But I’d bet everything I’ve got that you’d be all over jailbait over there if I wasn’t here.”
“Oh c’mon she’s gotta be at least 18.”
Well, maybe. Even so, Dean had enough years on her that it still would’ve been a little ridiculous. Sam glanced over at her again, watched as she leaned in and talked to a guy more her age that had just bought her a drink. He was drunk enough that when the idea occurred to him he just went with it. “She wouldn’t have given you the time of day anyway.”
Dean’s eyebrows rose, incredulous. “Oh really.”
“Really.” No, not really, but hell, he needed something entertaining, and if there was half a chance he’d get to watch Dean strike out with her, that’d give him ammo to tease him for years. He leaned over the table, took the bottle and poured them each another shot, managing to spill only a little onto the table. “I give you five minutes to get her name.”
Dean smirked, tossed back his shot and stood up, tapping his knuckles against the table. “3 minutes. You watch and see how it’s done.”
It took 30 seconds for Dean to get her looking at him, 1 minute to start talking to her, and 2 minutes to start fighting with the guy who’d already been talking to her. Well, this hadn’t exactly been his plan when he’d suggested Dean try, but it might have crossed his mind. With the way the past few days had gone, he was definitely more than ready for a fight.
The other guy threw the first punch but Dean met it fast, and when Sam managed to stumble over to join the fight the floor was a little more wobbly than he anticipated, but he still managed to be intersect the first of the guy’s buddies. He took a solid hit to the jaw before he was able to land one, but even the pain felt good. This, he could do.
Of course, he definitely hadn’t counted on the guy having several friends. Lots of friends. As in, minimum ten of them. By the time the bouncers got things under control(and kicked them out), they were starting to waver in holding their own and it probably wouldn’t have been too much longer before one of them got knocked out. As it was Sam’s head was throbbing and he was pretty sure Dean was gonna be sporting a very black eye tomorrow. Outside they leaned up against the side of the building, out of breath and panting.
Dean clapped him on the shoulder, pride in his eyes. “Did pretty good back there considering how seriously wasted you are.”
He shifted to let his head fall back against the wall, now leaning slightly into Dean for support “Yeah? Wouldn’t have been necessary if you hadn’t pissed off that jock in there.”
“Hey, that was your idea. And stand up, Sasquatch, you’re killin’ me.” As he said it Dean shifted, arm barely sliding to rest behind Sam’s shoulders for better support. With him, Dean was always all talk.
“ ‘s her name?”
“Huh?”
“Considering a full on bar fight broke out over it, ‘m never gonna let you forget it if you didn’t at least get her name, Dean.”
“Harvelle.”
“Harvelle?”
Dean shrugged, clearly defensive. “It’s her last name, ok? I was workin’ on the first name, but then…well all hell kinda broke loose.”
“You’re unbelievable.” Sam could feel his knees going on him, and he shifted a little of his weight off of Dean to slide down to the ground. Dean followed him, tucking one knee up against his chest to rest his arm on, and he Sam could feel Dean’s eyes on him even with his own closed. “I miss her, Dean.”
“I know. Look I dunno if I said it before but…I’m sorry I didn’t know her.”
“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”
They were silent along time, listening to the door open and shut around the corner and the cicadas call out in the distance. It was comfortable silence, and even though he was missing Jess so hard it hurt, he was starting to realize that this might’ve been something he’d missed even more without letting himself ever think much about the fact that it wasn’t there. Dean had been there so long, his absence hadn’t been something that had ever seemed real, kind of like feeling a phantom limb…in his head, they’d never been all the way separated, not really.
He felt the cool metal of the flask in his hands as Dean forced his fingers to wrap around it, and he laughed before he took another drink. God, Dean was gonna kill him.
“Come with me tomorrow.”
He spluttered at that, choking on whiskey that burned into a cut on his lip as he lost some of it. “…what?!”
“Enlist in Starfleet.” He was already laughing at the absurdity of the thought of him joining the military but Dean was turning to face him, all seriousness. “ C’mon, Sammy, hear me out, ok? Just think about it…you’ve already got most of your undergrad done. Your grades are freakin’ incredible, you enlist, you get into the medical program, you came out an officer around the same time I do and you and me, we stick together. I mean, we make a pretty good team when we try, you know? And I think if we do this together, it could really be a good thing. For both of us, you too.”
He shook his head, slow and deliberate. “Dean, no. Have you forgotten how much I hated dad for being gone all the time? The fact that I grew up knowing Pastor Jim better than I know my own father, or maybe the fact that when he was home, teaching us how to properly set and fire a phaser was more important than anything else I wanted to show him?”
“Sam, I’m not sayin’ become dad. You’re not him, you’re not gonna be him just because you go into Starfleet. I mean, what are you gonna do if you stay here?”
Fuck if he knew. He’d had it planned: 4 years undergrad at Stanford, then Stanford medical school. Dean had been right about one thing at least, though. Without Jess, Palo Alto couldn’t be home. He couldn’t go back to Stanford.
Dean nudged him, insistent. “C’mon, Sammy. You and me.”
To hell with it. What else was he gonna do? He could fall apart a lot easier with Dean than he could on his own. “I hate you.”
“That’s my boy.”
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
Aether
“Castiel.”
Castiel bit his lip at the sound of his mother’s voice, his wings arching higher over his shoulders in his nervous indecision. She was looking for him, which meant it was probably time to go, and he hadn’t yet made up his mind. In fact, he was probably more confused than he had been when he’d come out here a couple hours before. Still, he had to answer her.
“I’m here.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” She leaned back against the stone wall beside him, smiling with an easiness he would forever associate with her, no matter how many humans he met in his life. He’d wondered when he was younger if it really was a human trait, or if she was just more emotional than most, but the more he’d learned about humans as he’d grown the more he’d come to realize she wasn’t unique. Well, in that respect at least. In others, Ellen most certainly was unique. Very much so.
He turned to face her, and she reached up to trail a hand across his cheek, fingers going up to ruffle his already tussled hair. “It shouldn’t be this hard, Cas. The fact that it is? That should be tellin’ you something.”
She had a point, but so did every other logical argument rifling for space in his mind. Of course, he’d been struggling with that nearly his whole life, so he should’ve been used to it. She always made sense on a level somewhere deep that he couldn’t explain, but everything else in his world made sense in a way he could quantify, and that was what he should pay the most attention to. Or, so he’d been taught.
He had never for one moment wished for another mother and he never would, but sometimes being the only angel-human hybrid in known existence had its drawbacks. He looked out across the desert to the heavy cloud cover over the mountains in the distance. They were heavy and grey, promising the coming storms.
“I applied to Starfleet.”
If she was shocked, she didn’t show it. He only saw her nod, shift to lean more comfortably back against the stone. “And?”
“And I was accepted.”
“Congratulations.” Yes. Even though to be honest, he hadn’t expected to be turned down. As yet, no angel had applied to the service and just like he’d expected they’d jumped at the chance to accept him. “Last time we talked about this, you sounded pretty interested in gettin’ out there and seeing the universe firsthand.”
He was. Oh he was. He’d only ever been to earth once as a boy, and they hadn’t stayed long because Michael had thought it was detrimental to his education. Now that he was older though he had so many questions, so many things about his mother’s people he didn’t understand, so much about the larger universe around them all that were yet to be discovered and investigated, so much outside of Aether that he’d never known.
But every time he considered all of that, he realized a lot of those desires were just that…human desires. Curiosity, fascination, sensation, personal experience…nothing for angels should be personal. Not a single thing.
Ellen’s fingers trailed through his hair again, thumb brushing against his temple. “Stop that. You’re thinkin’ too hard. I swear, sometimes you do act just like your daddy.”
His lips quirked up a little at her familiar half frustrated tone. “And others?”
“Oh, sometimes I can see a little bit of me in you too.” She nudged him, playful. “Like that smile right there. I recognize that.” Smiles served no purpose. It was a quirk his father said he would eventually outgrow. “Sweetie, look at me.”
He met her eyes, let himself get a little lost in their warmth. She always kept him stable. “Whatever you do, you know I’m gonna keep loving you no matter how ‘inappropriately attached’ that makes me. You know that, right?”
“Yes, mother.”
“To be honest I think Starfleet’d be good for you, but I can see you standin’ up there with the best of the Garrison too. I mean, I’m more than used to angels by now, Cas. This place became my home a long time ago, and you want a secret? I love your daddy more than anyone has a right to love any man, and no matter what kind of walls he keeps up most of the time, I know he loves me too. He doesn’t have to say it; I’m alright with that.” She pushed away from the wall, leaned in to kiss his cheek. “And I’m alright with whatever you do, too. C’mon, sweetheart. Time to go.”
He remained undecided all the way up until he was standing in front of the Garrison council, and through most of their talk about his performance so far in his life his mind kept racing. This was one of those ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ moments, and every word they came closer to the end he still didn’t know what he was going to choose.
Until Zachariah stood.
“I’m very pleased, Castiel, that you’ve been able to rise above the lower tendencies and concerns of your heritage.”
Then, it was like a weight lifted off his chest.
He cocked his head, his eyes more on Michael than Zachariah. “Have I?”
With that, he disappeared. That was all the answer he needed to give, really. They could take what they wanted from it.
He’d say goodbye to Ellen and then he’d take the first transport to Earth, and if Michael wanted to contact him, he could send a message. Surely his higher brain function could manage that.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
“Oh my God how did I ever let you talk me into this?”
Sam looked he was literally trying to hold his head steady on his shoulders and Dean laughed, elbowed him in the ribs. “What’s wrong, Sammy? Have a little too much to drink last night?”
“God, I hate you…just fucking stop talking…”
Dean buckled his own safety restraint, fished around in the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out the flask, nudging at Sam’s arm with it. “Here. Hair of the dog.”
Sam groaned, refused to take his hands away from where his palms pressed over his eyes. Dean pushed harder, more insistent.
“C’mon, Sammy, it’ll help. Trust me.” Sam only hesitated a second before he reached out to take it, knocking back a quick mouthful. In the end, Sam always did trust him even if he balked like a stubborn calf first.
Sam swallowed, winced at the way the liquor burned down his throat. “Seriously…how the hell did you talk me into this?”
“Cause I’m an awesome brother.” Dean took the flask and took his own drink before handing it back, coaxing Sam to down just a little more. If he didn’t stabilize the nausea a little he was gonna be sick as fuck pretty soon. Of course, Sam had this misfortune of taking that next sip right as the docking gear disengaged, the transport beginning its rise up into space. Sam groaned, lurching a little forward, one arm hooking over his stomach.
“I may throw up on you.”
“You throw up, you better do it that way.” Dean jabbed his finger toward the aisle, insistent.
“Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
They were picking up speed, and Sam really was turning a not-so-healthy shade of green. Dean nudged him, jerked his chin in the direction of the window across from them. “Look there. We’re really gaining some height.”
Sam’s eyes squeezed shut, tight. “Not such a good idea right now.” He sat back, his head falling against the headrest as he tipped a little more alcohol down his throat. “Where are we even going?”
“Uh…” Dean rubbed the back of his neck, wondered how Sam would take it and finally just bit the bullet. “California, I think. But it’s not Palo Alto, it’s San Francisco so…” He rambled through it quick, hoped it wouldn’t get him too much of a angry response.
Sam didn’t even crack an eye. “You’re tellin’ me we left California to get drunk in Kansas and fly back to California.” He chuckled a little, and sarcastic or not, Dean thought that was a good sign. “Do I even need to ask how little you thought this out?”
“Hey, I thought about it…some.” Mostly, he’d just been worried about what he was gonna do about Sam. Everything after that had been details. He turned his own eyes away from the window, let them drift shut. He hadn’t exactly gotten a lot of sleep the night before. “This is a good idea, Sammy. It’s gonna be great; you’ll see.” At least, it needed to be. For both their sakes.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
All things considered, the room could’ve been much smaller. Christian Kane tossed his duffel bag down on the bed, tried to find a way to wedge his guitar case in between his bed and his bookshelf and desk. The room seemed pretty evenly divided in half, and that was great, but it also meant that giving them both the same stuff took up some extra floor space. He’d have been willing to give up the bookshelf for room for his guitar to be honest, and that probably didn’t bode well for his academic performance. Not that he was all that particularly worried about that.
A bang against the door behind him alerted him to his roommates arrival and he sat the guitar case down on the bed for the time being. He turned around just in time to see the other guy dump his stuff down on the other twin bed…and to see that it consisted of a duffel, and a beat up black guitar case with ‘CARLSON’ stenciled front and center.
Chris hadn’t been too sure about the whole roommate matching process, but oh yeah, they’d clearly outdone themselves. He held out his hand, grinning.
“Hey. Christian Kane.”
“Steve Carlson.” He reached out to shake Chris’ hand, grip firm. When he let go he reached up to brush a strand of blond hair out of too blue eyes, and Chris felt something in his chest turn over. “Can’t believe I’m actually gonna be rooming with another musician; this is great!”
Chris shrugged, ducked a little shyly. “I mean, I dick around on it and I can write a few songs but I wouldn’t say I’m a real guitar player or anything. I can sing alright though.” Or so the people in the bars at home seemed to think, and he knew he sure as hell had a kick ass time doing it.
“You got a band back home?”
“Nah, not really. Just played with a couple friends, on and off. You?”
“Nah. Spent a couple years playin’ a few solo gigs down in Hawaii, but nothing much.” Steve shoved his hands in his pockets, dug around until he pulled out a key. “I just live down in Ojai, drove up here myself. You wanna go grab some dinner?”
“Sounds great, yeah!” Well, dinner sounded good, he was pretty hungry. Getting to know Steve Carlson? Yeah, that sounded great.
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Inspiration for Cas talking to Ellen about joining Starfleet largely comes from the book Sarek by A. C. Crispin, which is a book I highly recommend if you’re interested in Amanda/Sarek or even just Amanda’s relationship with Spock. Also has a cool political plot, but the emotional aspects are my favorite part. I’ve read it at least 3 times.
Blending two of my favorite things FTMFW! :D But I have to say, because of how much else I’ve got on my plate, don’t expect to see another chapter of this till summer. Sorry guys! It will come though. Promise.
Also, as you can tell, this’ll have more Chris/Steve than we saw of Sulu/Chekov, but that’s just because Chris/Steve had become one of my OTP’s. I love those boys so fucking much. *sigh*
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Genre and/or Pairing: eventual Dean/Cas, Chris/Steve, but no pairings yet(hints of onesided Chris/Steve, I guess) This is a Supernatural/Star Trek fusion...with a couple RPS characters thrown in. XD
Spoilers: umm...don't read if you don't want spoilers for Trek 2009
Warnings: is 'this is total mindfuckery' a warning?
Word Count 4, 799
Summary: When Sam Winchester's girlfriend is killed in a tragic house fire, he decides to join his brother in enlisting in Starfleet. Also at the academy are two musicians from different worlds with more in common than they'd have ever hoped, and a half angel trying to find out who he really is. (Yes, I realize this is insane.)
Dear God I fail at getting comfort!fic done on time. And that probably makes me a horrible person. *headdesk*
This is a ‘you’re-awesome-and-I-love-you-and-I-wish-I-could-fix-everything-but-I-can’t-so-I’ll-just-write-you-a-story’ style present for one of my rl best friends, Beth. <3 :) *hugs* Because seriously, if I could magic everything better I would, and I hate feeling like I fail at taking care of people I care about, but writing, that I can do. So at the very least, I can maybe make you smile for a few minutes. :) Hope you like it! I lovfe you! (and yes guys, the ‘f’ was there on purpose. It’s a…thing. That got started because I fail at typing late at night sometimes. XD)
Ok so…some things to know about this one. It makes perfect sense to us, cause me and Beth came up with it at exactly the same moment while watching Star Trek two weeks ago. It went something like this:
Nikki: *looking at Kirk* I want one.
Me and Beth: *thinking* Well he’s nice but…Jensen…Dean…
Me or Beth: *can’t remember who actually said something first* *sigh* Jensen…
And then proceeded happiness over realizing we’d thought of the same thing, and then we proceeded to discuss who on the ship would be who if Dean was captain and…yes. From there, we just knew it had to be a story. ANYWAY. This is a Supernatural/RPS crossover that is also a fusion with Star Trek. Oh yes, it’s all kinds of crazy. Cast of characters:
Kirk- Dean Winchester
Spock- Castiel
Bones- Sam Winchester
Uhura- Jo Harvelle
Sulu- Christian Kane
Chekov- Steve Carlson
Captain Pike- Rufus
Sarek- Michael (as in the archangel. Yup.)
Amanda- Ellen (who is, obviously, not related to Jo in this fic.)
Scottie- Bobby Singer
USS Enterprise- USS Impala (because c’mon…both these ladies are characters in their own right. <3)
Nero- Yellow Eyes
As a whole,
Vulcans- Angels
Romulans- Demons
Vulcan- Aether
Romulus- Hades
Pairings for this will be Dean/Cas and Chris/Steve. Overall this is done Trek 2009 style, but they’ll be elements of TOS because I’m an old TOS fan first and foremost. <3 And, here you go. :P
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There were a lot of ways Dean Winchester had thought about spending the last few days before he joined Starfleet, but transporting from Kansas to Palo Alto for his brother’s girlfriend’s funeral wasn’t one of them. Granted, he didn’t resent that, not at all, he just wished to hell that things hadn’t happened this way, and even though this wasn’t in his plans, his reasons weren’t at all selfish.
Sam was a goddamn wreck, and even if he’d hated having him all the way out in fucking California, he’d never wanted Sam to be anything other than happy. This was his little brother, the kid he’d practically raised while their dad had been off giving his heart and soul and blood to Starfleet. He loved Sam more than anything in the world, and seeing him like this was pretty much tearing his fucking heart out.
The funeral’d been over for a good 30 minutes at least, but he was just standing there staring at the red clay and looking for all the world like a lost puppy. Damn, but Dean fell for those eyes every time. He’d lost the ability to say ‘no’ to Sam the minute Sam had learned how to say his name. But Sam didn’t have to know that.
He stepped up next him to him, nudged him in the ribs and held out his flask. “Here.”
He took it from Dean’s hand with hardly a glance, downed an uncharacteristically big gulp, and Dean almost smiled when he tried to hide his grimace. Not really used to that, are you, Sammy?
He handed it back with barely shaking hands, and he rammed them in his pockets to hide it. “You don’t have to stay here, Dean. I know you’re leaving tomorrow, so-“
“Will you stop? Look I wanna do this with you, ok? You shouldn’t be alone right now, man.” Definitely shouldn’t. Sam got all introspective and shit if you left him to his own devices, and he was in too dark of a place right now for it be good for him to sit thinking about it. Best thing Dean could do was keep him moving, or at the very least get him drunk and let him pass out somewhere he could watch over him. After tomorrow, fuck if he knew who’d be watching over him, and that was the part that had him worried.
It’d been hard enough to make the decision to leave home for Starfleet anyway, but he’d finally done it, telling himself that Sam was right and their dad would be ok on his own. Sam on the other hand wasn’t one of those people that was always ok on his own…and even if he was, Dean didn’t like the thought of letting him try. It’d been hell when Sam left to come out here, and now… Well, he wasn’t sure he could leave knowing Sam was this much of a mess. Again, though, not something he was about to tell Sam. He’d just see how tonight went, and if he needed to miss that transport tomorrow…well, he’d miss it. And he’d try not to think too much about it. Whatever he’d had planned, Sam was his brother. That trumped everything.
Sam hunched his shoulders, seemed to stare even harder into the dirt. Kid was a master at masochism. “If I’d gotten home just a little sooner-“
“Then we’d just have been burying both of you.” He reached up, put a hand on his shoulder and tugged him around enough to face him, insistent. “Sam, look at me, ok? This was not your fault. It wasn’t.”
Again, with the eyes. God, Sam was gonna kill him one day. “You don’t know that, Dean. If I’d been there, if I’d-“
“Look, you can’t do this. You just can’t. You can’t run over every possible scenario, you can’t keep thinking there’s a dozen what if’s that could’ve saved her, because it’s over. It’s over, and it’s done, and even though I’m pretty damn sure nothing could’ve changed this, it seriously doesn’t matter now, because there’s nothing you can do now, and thinking that there could’ve been will just drive you crazy. I promise it will.”
Sam looked away, eyes boring into the granite marker. “I just…I don’t know. Anything.” He swallowed hard, tears spilling out of the corners of his eyes. Dean squeezed hard with the hand he still had on his shoulder, stabilizing. “I was gonna ask her to marry me.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “Come back to Kansas with me.” What the fuck, Dean? That’s the best you can do? Apparently. He wasn’t as good as thinking shit through as Sam was, most of the time. He patted him on the back, a little gentler than he normally would have. “Come have a drink with me, and we’ll figure out what you do from there, ok?”
Sam hesitated, his eyes still lingering between granite and freshly turned earth. “I don’t know, Dean, I…everything’s here. Past 3 years of my life have been here.”
“Yeah, well, the other 19 of them were spent all over the place. This isn’t home, Sam, it’s just…a place you’ve been. And it’s not gonna ever look the same to you, not after this. So why don’t we go back to Lawrence, we get drunk, and we’ll figure something out, ok?”
He took long enough to think about it that Dean was starting to wonder if maybe Sam really was gonna stay out here after all, and that would truly suck because personally he wasn’t a fan of California. But finally, he answered. “Just let me go talk to her parents a sec.”
“Course. Look, I’ll be waitin’ on you somewhere out here. Take your time, dude.”
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
“Here. Have another one.” Dean slid the shot across to him, mostly coordinated, and Sam was starting to wonder absently just how fucking much his brother’d been drinking while he was gone. Seriously, this was kind of ridiculous. He’d lost count of drinks awhile back, and even though he couldn’t remember when he’d felt this trashed, Dean was still looking pretty alright. Well, relatively speaking.
Not that being trashed was gonna stop him from drinking this next shot. Jess was dead, and fuck if he knew where he was going from here. He knocked his shot against Dean’s, frowning a little when some alcohol splashed over his fingers. Ah well. He’d just barely finished knocking his back when he noticed Dean’s was still full in his hand, his attention caught elsewhere.
Sam craned his neck to find what he was looking at, his movement slow because of the way his vision swam when he turned. Over to the right there was a blonde leaning up against the bar that had to have been 2 or 3 years younger than Sam at least, and Dean was very studiously giving her a good once over. God, seriously?! Ok, so maybe it wasn’t Dean’s girlfriend who’d just died, but did he have to be checking her out that much right then? Seriously?
He turned back around to face his brother, gripping the table for support when he felt himself almost lose his balance. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
Dean shrugged, had the decency to look a little sheepish. “C’mon, Sam…dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”
“Oh you don’t? You gonna take her home?”
That he balked at, scoffing. “Sam, seriously? You know I wouldn’t do that.” Sam laughed, opened his mouth to rebuke him but held off when Dean held a hand up. “Ok, no, I’d absolutely do that, but not today. I mean, under other circumstances, sure, but now? I’m just lookin’.” He grinned, wolfish, his eyes scanning over her again. “No harm in that, right? I just happened to notice she was there, and it seems a waste to not even look, you know?”
Of course it would, because this was Dean. And honestly, as hard as Dean was obviously trying to help hold him together, he couldn’t really be pissed. He shook his head, smirking. “Alright. But I’d bet everything I’ve got that you’d be all over jailbait over there if I wasn’t here.”
“Oh c’mon she’s gotta be at least 18.”
Well, maybe. Even so, Dean had enough years on her that it still would’ve been a little ridiculous. Sam glanced over at her again, watched as she leaned in and talked to a guy more her age that had just bought her a drink. He was drunk enough that when the idea occurred to him he just went with it. “She wouldn’t have given you the time of day anyway.”
Dean’s eyebrows rose, incredulous. “Oh really.”
“Really.” No, not really, but hell, he needed something entertaining, and if there was half a chance he’d get to watch Dean strike out with her, that’d give him ammo to tease him for years. He leaned over the table, took the bottle and poured them each another shot, managing to spill only a little onto the table. “I give you five minutes to get her name.”
Dean smirked, tossed back his shot and stood up, tapping his knuckles against the table. “3 minutes. You watch and see how it’s done.”
It took 30 seconds for Dean to get her looking at him, 1 minute to start talking to her, and 2 minutes to start fighting with the guy who’d already been talking to her. Well, this hadn’t exactly been his plan when he’d suggested Dean try, but it might have crossed his mind. With the way the past few days had gone, he was definitely more than ready for a fight.
The other guy threw the first punch but Dean met it fast, and when Sam managed to stumble over to join the fight the floor was a little more wobbly than he anticipated, but he still managed to be intersect the first of the guy’s buddies. He took a solid hit to the jaw before he was able to land one, but even the pain felt good. This, he could do.
Of course, he definitely hadn’t counted on the guy having several friends. Lots of friends. As in, minimum ten of them. By the time the bouncers got things under control(and kicked them out), they were starting to waver in holding their own and it probably wouldn’t have been too much longer before one of them got knocked out. As it was Sam’s head was throbbing and he was pretty sure Dean was gonna be sporting a very black eye tomorrow. Outside they leaned up against the side of the building, out of breath and panting.
Dean clapped him on the shoulder, pride in his eyes. “Did pretty good back there considering how seriously wasted you are.”
He shifted to let his head fall back against the wall, now leaning slightly into Dean for support “Yeah? Wouldn’t have been necessary if you hadn’t pissed off that jock in there.”
“Hey, that was your idea. And stand up, Sasquatch, you’re killin’ me.” As he said it Dean shifted, arm barely sliding to rest behind Sam’s shoulders for better support. With him, Dean was always all talk.
“ ‘s her name?”
“Huh?”
“Considering a full on bar fight broke out over it, ‘m never gonna let you forget it if you didn’t at least get her name, Dean.”
“Harvelle.”
“Harvelle?”
Dean shrugged, clearly defensive. “It’s her last name, ok? I was workin’ on the first name, but then…well all hell kinda broke loose.”
“You’re unbelievable.” Sam could feel his knees going on him, and he shifted a little of his weight off of Dean to slide down to the ground. Dean followed him, tucking one knee up against his chest to rest his arm on, and he Sam could feel Dean’s eyes on him even with his own closed. “I miss her, Dean.”
“I know. Look I dunno if I said it before but…I’m sorry I didn’t know her.”
“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”
They were silent along time, listening to the door open and shut around the corner and the cicadas call out in the distance. It was comfortable silence, and even though he was missing Jess so hard it hurt, he was starting to realize that this might’ve been something he’d missed even more without letting himself ever think much about the fact that it wasn’t there. Dean had been there so long, his absence hadn’t been something that had ever seemed real, kind of like feeling a phantom limb…in his head, they’d never been all the way separated, not really.
He felt the cool metal of the flask in his hands as Dean forced his fingers to wrap around it, and he laughed before he took another drink. God, Dean was gonna kill him.
“Come with me tomorrow.”
He spluttered at that, choking on whiskey that burned into a cut on his lip as he lost some of it. “…what?!”
“Enlist in Starfleet.” He was already laughing at the absurdity of the thought of him joining the military but Dean was turning to face him, all seriousness. “ C’mon, Sammy, hear me out, ok? Just think about it…you’ve already got most of your undergrad done. Your grades are freakin’ incredible, you enlist, you get into the medical program, you came out an officer around the same time I do and you and me, we stick together. I mean, we make a pretty good team when we try, you know? And I think if we do this together, it could really be a good thing. For both of us, you too.”
He shook his head, slow and deliberate. “Dean, no. Have you forgotten how much I hated dad for being gone all the time? The fact that I grew up knowing Pastor Jim better than I know my own father, or maybe the fact that when he was home, teaching us how to properly set and fire a phaser was more important than anything else I wanted to show him?”
“Sam, I’m not sayin’ become dad. You’re not him, you’re not gonna be him just because you go into Starfleet. I mean, what are you gonna do if you stay here?”
Fuck if he knew. He’d had it planned: 4 years undergrad at Stanford, then Stanford medical school. Dean had been right about one thing at least, though. Without Jess, Palo Alto couldn’t be home. He couldn’t go back to Stanford.
Dean nudged him, insistent. “C’mon, Sammy. You and me.”
To hell with it. What else was he gonna do? He could fall apart a lot easier with Dean than he could on his own. “I hate you.”
“That’s my boy.”
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
Aether
“Castiel.”
Castiel bit his lip at the sound of his mother’s voice, his wings arching higher over his shoulders in his nervous indecision. She was looking for him, which meant it was probably time to go, and he hadn’t yet made up his mind. In fact, he was probably more confused than he had been when he’d come out here a couple hours before. Still, he had to answer her.
“I’m here.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” She leaned back against the stone wall beside him, smiling with an easiness he would forever associate with her, no matter how many humans he met in his life. He’d wondered when he was younger if it really was a human trait, or if she was just more emotional than most, but the more he’d learned about humans as he’d grown the more he’d come to realize she wasn’t unique. Well, in that respect at least. In others, Ellen most certainly was unique. Very much so.
He turned to face her, and she reached up to trail a hand across his cheek, fingers going up to ruffle his already tussled hair. “It shouldn’t be this hard, Cas. The fact that it is? That should be tellin’ you something.”
She had a point, but so did every other logical argument rifling for space in his mind. Of course, he’d been struggling with that nearly his whole life, so he should’ve been used to it. She always made sense on a level somewhere deep that he couldn’t explain, but everything else in his world made sense in a way he could quantify, and that was what he should pay the most attention to. Or, so he’d been taught.
He had never for one moment wished for another mother and he never would, but sometimes being the only angel-human hybrid in known existence had its drawbacks. He looked out across the desert to the heavy cloud cover over the mountains in the distance. They were heavy and grey, promising the coming storms.
“I applied to Starfleet.”
If she was shocked, she didn’t show it. He only saw her nod, shift to lean more comfortably back against the stone. “And?”
“And I was accepted.”
“Congratulations.” Yes. Even though to be honest, he hadn’t expected to be turned down. As yet, no angel had applied to the service and just like he’d expected they’d jumped at the chance to accept him. “Last time we talked about this, you sounded pretty interested in gettin’ out there and seeing the universe firsthand.”
He was. Oh he was. He’d only ever been to earth once as a boy, and they hadn’t stayed long because Michael had thought it was detrimental to his education. Now that he was older though he had so many questions, so many things about his mother’s people he didn’t understand, so much about the larger universe around them all that were yet to be discovered and investigated, so much outside of Aether that he’d never known.
But every time he considered all of that, he realized a lot of those desires were just that…human desires. Curiosity, fascination, sensation, personal experience…nothing for angels should be personal. Not a single thing.
Ellen’s fingers trailed through his hair again, thumb brushing against his temple. “Stop that. You’re thinkin’ too hard. I swear, sometimes you do act just like your daddy.”
His lips quirked up a little at her familiar half frustrated tone. “And others?”
“Oh, sometimes I can see a little bit of me in you too.” She nudged him, playful. “Like that smile right there. I recognize that.” Smiles served no purpose. It was a quirk his father said he would eventually outgrow. “Sweetie, look at me.”
He met her eyes, let himself get a little lost in their warmth. She always kept him stable. “Whatever you do, you know I’m gonna keep loving you no matter how ‘inappropriately attached’ that makes me. You know that, right?”
“Yes, mother.”
“To be honest I think Starfleet’d be good for you, but I can see you standin’ up there with the best of the Garrison too. I mean, I’m more than used to angels by now, Cas. This place became my home a long time ago, and you want a secret? I love your daddy more than anyone has a right to love any man, and no matter what kind of walls he keeps up most of the time, I know he loves me too. He doesn’t have to say it; I’m alright with that.” She pushed away from the wall, leaned in to kiss his cheek. “And I’m alright with whatever you do, too. C’mon, sweetheart. Time to go.”
He remained undecided all the way up until he was standing in front of the Garrison council, and through most of their talk about his performance so far in his life his mind kept racing. This was one of those ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ moments, and every word they came closer to the end he still didn’t know what he was going to choose.
Until Zachariah stood.
“I’m very pleased, Castiel, that you’ve been able to rise above the lower tendencies and concerns of your heritage.”
Then, it was like a weight lifted off his chest.
He cocked his head, his eyes more on Michael than Zachariah. “Have I?”
With that, he disappeared. That was all the answer he needed to give, really. They could take what they wanted from it.
He’d say goodbye to Ellen and then he’d take the first transport to Earth, and if Michael wanted to contact him, he could send a message. Surely his higher brain function could manage that.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
“Oh my God how did I ever let you talk me into this?”
Sam looked he was literally trying to hold his head steady on his shoulders and Dean laughed, elbowed him in the ribs. “What’s wrong, Sammy? Have a little too much to drink last night?”
“God, I hate you…just fucking stop talking…”
Dean buckled his own safety restraint, fished around in the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out the flask, nudging at Sam’s arm with it. “Here. Hair of the dog.”
Sam groaned, refused to take his hands away from where his palms pressed over his eyes. Dean pushed harder, more insistent.
“C’mon, Sammy, it’ll help. Trust me.” Sam only hesitated a second before he reached out to take it, knocking back a quick mouthful. In the end, Sam always did trust him even if he balked like a stubborn calf first.
Sam swallowed, winced at the way the liquor burned down his throat. “Seriously…how the hell did you talk me into this?”
“Cause I’m an awesome brother.” Dean took the flask and took his own drink before handing it back, coaxing Sam to down just a little more. If he didn’t stabilize the nausea a little he was gonna be sick as fuck pretty soon. Of course, Sam had this misfortune of taking that next sip right as the docking gear disengaged, the transport beginning its rise up into space. Sam groaned, lurching a little forward, one arm hooking over his stomach.
“I may throw up on you.”
“You throw up, you better do it that way.” Dean jabbed his finger toward the aisle, insistent.
“Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
They were picking up speed, and Sam really was turning a not-so-healthy shade of green. Dean nudged him, jerked his chin in the direction of the window across from them. “Look there. We’re really gaining some height.”
Sam’s eyes squeezed shut, tight. “Not such a good idea right now.” He sat back, his head falling against the headrest as he tipped a little more alcohol down his throat. “Where are we even going?”
“Uh…” Dean rubbed the back of his neck, wondered how Sam would take it and finally just bit the bullet. “California, I think. But it’s not Palo Alto, it’s San Francisco so…” He rambled through it quick, hoped it wouldn’t get him too much of a angry response.
Sam didn’t even crack an eye. “You’re tellin’ me we left California to get drunk in Kansas and fly back to California.” He chuckled a little, and sarcastic or not, Dean thought that was a good sign. “Do I even need to ask how little you thought this out?”
“Hey, I thought about it…some.” Mostly, he’d just been worried about what he was gonna do about Sam. Everything after that had been details. He turned his own eyes away from the window, let them drift shut. He hadn’t exactly gotten a lot of sleep the night before. “This is a good idea, Sammy. It’s gonna be great; you’ll see.” At least, it needed to be. For both their sakes.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
All things considered, the room could’ve been much smaller. Christian Kane tossed his duffel bag down on the bed, tried to find a way to wedge his guitar case in between his bed and his bookshelf and desk. The room seemed pretty evenly divided in half, and that was great, but it also meant that giving them both the same stuff took up some extra floor space. He’d have been willing to give up the bookshelf for room for his guitar to be honest, and that probably didn’t bode well for his academic performance. Not that he was all that particularly worried about that.
A bang against the door behind him alerted him to his roommates arrival and he sat the guitar case down on the bed for the time being. He turned around just in time to see the other guy dump his stuff down on the other twin bed…and to see that it consisted of a duffel, and a beat up black guitar case with ‘CARLSON’ stenciled front and center.
Chris hadn’t been too sure about the whole roommate matching process, but oh yeah, they’d clearly outdone themselves. He held out his hand, grinning.
“Hey. Christian Kane.”
“Steve Carlson.” He reached out to shake Chris’ hand, grip firm. When he let go he reached up to brush a strand of blond hair out of too blue eyes, and Chris felt something in his chest turn over. “Can’t believe I’m actually gonna be rooming with another musician; this is great!”
Chris shrugged, ducked a little shyly. “I mean, I dick around on it and I can write a few songs but I wouldn’t say I’m a real guitar player or anything. I can sing alright though.” Or so the people in the bars at home seemed to think, and he knew he sure as hell had a kick ass time doing it.
“You got a band back home?”
“Nah, not really. Just played with a couple friends, on and off. You?”
“Nah. Spent a couple years playin’ a few solo gigs down in Hawaii, but nothing much.” Steve shoved his hands in his pockets, dug around until he pulled out a key. “I just live down in Ojai, drove up here myself. You wanna go grab some dinner?”
“Sounds great, yeah!” Well, dinner sounded good, he was pretty hungry. Getting to know Steve Carlson? Yeah, that sounded great.
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Inspiration for Cas talking to Ellen about joining Starfleet largely comes from the book Sarek by A. C. Crispin, which is a book I highly recommend if you’re interested in Amanda/Sarek or even just Amanda’s relationship with Spock. Also has a cool political plot, but the emotional aspects are my favorite part. I’ve read it at least 3 times.
Blending two of my favorite things FTMFW! :D But I have to say, because of how much else I’ve got on my plate, don’t expect to see another chapter of this till summer. Sorry guys! It will come though. Promise.
Also, as you can tell, this’ll have more Chris/Steve than we saw of Sulu/Chekov, but that’s just because Chris/Steve had become one of my OTP’s. I love those boys so fucking much. *sigh*