(Angel/SPN/TSCC) To The Rescue for laney_1974
Title: To The Rescue
Author: a_q
Fandoms: Angel, Supernatural, Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles
Characters Angel, Cordelia Chase; John Winchester; Sarah Connor
Pairings: Sarah Connor/John Winchester
Rating: G
Word count: 1900
Spoilers: None specific canon for Angel or Supernatural. For T:SCC, mentions of the events 2x22 'Born to Run'.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: 'Angel', 'Supernatural' and 'T:SCC' belong to their respective creators (Joss Whedon, Eric Kripke and James Cameron).
A/N: Thank you for the beta and all the helpful suggestions, kat_of_rafters and jaune_chat. All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Wolfram and Hart play two teams against each other to confuse them all.
”We can open the portal for you, Sarah,” Lilah said, ignoring the gun pressed against her forehead. ”You do this one little favor for us, and we can guarantee that you will be reunited with your son.”
”You want me to kill John Winchester. That is not a little favor.”
Lilah stared at the woman. It was hard to say which way the scale would tip. Lilah had done extensive reading on Sarah Connor, but nothing had prepared her for meeting the woman face to face. She was taller, for one.
”And functioning, stable time portals are hard to come by these days, all thanks to you. You have certainly done your best to destroy all possible ways to create portals without magic. However, I can procure one for you, and the ticket is John Winchester's head in a bag.”
”In a bag?”
”Oh, the details are up to you. A tote bag, plastic bag, bowling bag, I don't care. The head is the part we want. Bring it here before sunrise and I'll have a crew ready to open the door for you. Do we have a deal?”
The gun stayed put and for one, long second Lilah wondered if she had made a horrible miscalculation. Then Sarah sighed and clicked the safety back on, taking a step back.
”Why the head? A photo would make the point just as well.”
”Our client requested it. Head for a head, that sort of thing. Like I said, the details aren't important. I can offer you equipment if you need it. A gun you obviously have, but something else? A sharp machete perhaps?”
”I have my own.”
Lilah watched the woman walk out the office and considered having a drink. Guns always made her thirsty.
”You do know that John Winchester was her lover?” Lindsey asked. He had kept out of the line of fire, as always.
“Didn't you hear? They are back together.” Lilah walked to the bar and poured herself a brandy. “And what would be a better diversion than a reheated relationship, so full of excitement and romance?”
“It's not the kind of smoke screen our client asked.”
“Then let's add more ingredients to the mix, shall we?” Lilah smiled, and emptied her glass with a big gulp. “Tell the Seers to send the message.”
***
”What did she offer?” John asked, not looking up from the gun he was cleaning. The pieces were carefully arranged on the kitchen table. He had covered the table with newspaper to protect the polished surface. Sarah didn't know the owners of this house, but they had kept good care of their things.
”A chance to get my son back. She claimed she could create a portal. With magic.”
“Do you believe her?”
“The woman offered me the moon, John. I haven't fallen for that since I was a kid,” Sarah said, watching him reassemble the gun again with swift, rehearsed moves. “I know her type. Even if she could create that portal, I would never reach it. She would shoot me in the back. No, actually, she would order a task force to do it. That woman would never dirty her own hands.”
“I won't blame you if you want to take the deal,” John said, pointing at the floor and pulling the trigger. The gun clicked. “It's your kid. I know what that means to you. I know what that would mean to me.”
“But you don't know what she asked in exchange.”
John glanced up, and flashed a mischievous smile at her. “Let me guess. My head?”
“Exactly,” Sarah said and smiled back. “And I happen to like it, right where it is.”
“If it were my kids in line, I would consider it.”
“No, you wouldn't,” Sarah said and walked to the weapons trunk pushed in the corner. John had cleaned and arranged everything with same precision Sarah had cleaned and arranged her own weapons. “I trained my son the best I could, just like you trained yours, and we both know that they can take care of themselves. They don't need their parents to look out for them anymore.”
“All boys need their mother,” John said quietly. Sarah heard the faint clatter of the bullets as John loaded the magazine, then the slide and the click as he pushed it in.
“Do you want me to chop your head off? Is that what this is about?” Sarah picked the machete from the trunk, pulling it out of the sheath, admiring the brightness of its polished surface. John's weapons were always top-notch, but her machete was sharper. “Because I thought we were looking for the Yellow-Eyed demon.”
Before John could say anything else, there was a knock on the door. They both stood still for a split second, before moving in rehearsed unison. John went to the door and Sarah went to the window. She had a good view to the back porch through the corner pane. A tall brunette stood on the porch, clutching a handbag under her arm. She looked tough and decisive, but not like much of a fighter.
It was the shoes.
They were completely ridiculous, high-heeled and garishly red. You don't walk to a fight with shoes like that. The woman knocked again, harder.
“Lady with the machete, I know you're in there! I need to speak to you. Open up!”
Sarah turned to look at John, surprised. There was no way to see inside that clearly from where the woman stood. John shrugged. There was a third knock.
“Let me in! We don't have time for this!”
Sarah nodded and John opened the door. The woman barged in, ignoring the gun pointed at her.
“You! Do not open that portal! Something will come through and whatever it is, it will be bad. Trust me, you don't want to see it,” the woman said. “It was bad enough when I saw it.”
“Alright,” Sarah said calmly, glancing at John who shrugged again. He didn't know her. Sarah considered the situation. The woman looked serious, upset, and most importantly, sane. Sarah could tell the difference. “And who are you?”
“Hi, I'm Cordelia,” she said and pulled up a chair, flopping down. “I've had the worst day imaginable, and that is saying a lot. Do you have, like, soda or something? I've walked around the whole neighborhood looking for the right house. And really, what's up with that?” She waved at the machete, like it was an insult to her to have it around. John looked like he was ready to laugh his ass off any second now. Sarah decided to play along, if only to see what this Cordelia wanted.
Sarah left the machete on the kitchen counter, still in reach if she should need it. John pushed the door shut. Cordelia didn't even turn to look. In her shoes, Sarah would've been worried. Not about twisting her ankle, but about being unarmed, outnumbered, and cut off from the exit. Sarah opened the fridge and took a beer, handing it over to her. Cordelia didn't look too thrilled, but she took the bottle anyway.
“How did you find us?”
“What did you see?”
They asked their questions at the same time. For a moment there was an awkward silence, while John waited her to ask again, and Sarah did the same. Cordelia shook her head and sighed.
“I've had three visions today, I could use less tension. I saw this house, a portal opening in the front lawn, a big metal thing coming through, then the usual: fire, screaming, dead bodies. I see these things a lot you know, but this was different. Huge. In my vision, the portal won't close.”
“Vision? Are you serious?” John asked. “Psychics are frauds, every last one of them.”
“I'm not a psychic! I see the future, because it's our job to keep it from happening and that is exactly...No, wait, what are you doing? Stop!”
Sarah saw John's intention before his hand even moved and she was right there with him, reaching for the machete as John grabbed a hold of Cordelia, pressing his gun against her head. Cordelia struggled in his hold, her shoes scraping against the slippery linoleum.
“Our job? Who else is out there?”
Cordelia said nothing, just stared at Sarah like she seriously expected her to help. Sarah scoffed and moved to the window, checking the back. At first it looked empty, but there was a sudden movement, too fast to see, and the back door crashed off of its hinges, the frame splintering from the force.
“Let go of her. Now,” someone shouted from the outside.
John dragged Cordelia to her feet, holding her as a shield against whoever stood at the door. Sarah couldn't see him, because he didn't step in the room.
“You work for a demon,” John said. “That is never a good idea, little girl. What are you? Wolfram and Hart?”
“No, stupid! We try to stop Wolfram and Hart!” Cordelia said, trying to twist enough in John's hold to land a kick on him. Sarah wanted to laugh, it was so adorable. “That's Angel, and you're in so much trouble you have no idea! We will save all those people, and stop you from opening that portal!”
“You saw it wrong. I don't want a portal,” Sarah said. “I've never wanted it. And I certainly won't make one either.”
“What?” Cordelia froze in John's hold.
“John, let her go. She is a plain distraction,” Sarah ordered and John pushed Cordelia toward the door.
“Run along now, girl. We don't have time for silly games, we have work to do.”
“Excuse me! I'm not plain! Or a distraction! And we had work to do here first, you can't just ignore my visions, they are always signs off...”
“Cordelia, stop talking and come here. Now.”
“Angel, they don't take this seriously! How about all those people I saw, and the metal thing that kills them? Does no one here care about that?” Cordelia asked. She didn't seem to have any intention to leave. Sarah glanced at John, who stared outside, to the man standing there. Sarah didn't have to ask why he didn't step in the room.
“As far as time portals and robots go, she is the expert,” John said and raised his gun slightly. “And what comes to vampires and psychics, I'm the expert. You two have nothing to do here, so you better get going before I loose my patience.”
Cordelia sighed, loud and dramatic, before stomping out the door. They could hear her complaints all the way down to the street. John waited until he heard the car start before clicking the safety back on.
“That was interesting. Shame about the door though,” Sarah said, looking at the damage.
“This is not good. I don't like being exposed like this. Psychics? I don't believe it.”
“We should head back to north, check that rumor about the Colt,” Sarah suggested, already moving, gathering their things. “That could be the reason they wanted to distract us with this portal business.”
“It's a possibility. Whatever the reason, we have to leave.”
“I'll get my bags.”
-END-
Prompt: “wrong time/wrong place”
Author: a_q
Fandoms: Angel, Supernatural, Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles
Characters Angel, Cordelia Chase; John Winchester; Sarah Connor
Pairings: Sarah Connor/John Winchester
Rating: G
Word count: 1900
Spoilers: None specific canon for Angel or Supernatural. For T:SCC, mentions of the events 2x22 'Born to Run'.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: 'Angel', 'Supernatural' and 'T:SCC' belong to their respective creators (Joss Whedon, Eric Kripke and James Cameron).
A/N: Thank you for the beta and all the helpful suggestions, kat_of_rafters and jaune_chat. All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Wolfram and Hart play two teams against each other to confuse them all.
”We can open the portal for you, Sarah,” Lilah said, ignoring the gun pressed against her forehead. ”You do this one little favor for us, and we can guarantee that you will be reunited with your son.”
”You want me to kill John Winchester. That is not a little favor.”
Lilah stared at the woman. It was hard to say which way the scale would tip. Lilah had done extensive reading on Sarah Connor, but nothing had prepared her for meeting the woman face to face. She was taller, for one.
”And functioning, stable time portals are hard to come by these days, all thanks to you. You have certainly done your best to destroy all possible ways to create portals without magic. However, I can procure one for you, and the ticket is John Winchester's head in a bag.”
”In a bag?”
”Oh, the details are up to you. A tote bag, plastic bag, bowling bag, I don't care. The head is the part we want. Bring it here before sunrise and I'll have a crew ready to open the door for you. Do we have a deal?”
The gun stayed put and for one, long second Lilah wondered if she had made a horrible miscalculation. Then Sarah sighed and clicked the safety back on, taking a step back.
”Why the head? A photo would make the point just as well.”
”Our client requested it. Head for a head, that sort of thing. Like I said, the details aren't important. I can offer you equipment if you need it. A gun you obviously have, but something else? A sharp machete perhaps?”
”I have my own.”
Lilah watched the woman walk out the office and considered having a drink. Guns always made her thirsty.
”You do know that John Winchester was her lover?” Lindsey asked. He had kept out of the line of fire, as always.
“Didn't you hear? They are back together.” Lilah walked to the bar and poured herself a brandy. “And what would be a better diversion than a reheated relationship, so full of excitement and romance?”
“It's not the kind of smoke screen our client asked.”
“Then let's add more ingredients to the mix, shall we?” Lilah smiled, and emptied her glass with a big gulp. “Tell the Seers to send the message.”
***
”What did she offer?” John asked, not looking up from the gun he was cleaning. The pieces were carefully arranged on the kitchen table. He had covered the table with newspaper to protect the polished surface. Sarah didn't know the owners of this house, but they had kept good care of their things.
”A chance to get my son back. She claimed she could create a portal. With magic.”
“Do you believe her?”
“The woman offered me the moon, John. I haven't fallen for that since I was a kid,” Sarah said, watching him reassemble the gun again with swift, rehearsed moves. “I know her type. Even if she could create that portal, I would never reach it. She would shoot me in the back. No, actually, she would order a task force to do it. That woman would never dirty her own hands.”
“I won't blame you if you want to take the deal,” John said, pointing at the floor and pulling the trigger. The gun clicked. “It's your kid. I know what that means to you. I know what that would mean to me.”
“But you don't know what she asked in exchange.”
John glanced up, and flashed a mischievous smile at her. “Let me guess. My head?”
“Exactly,” Sarah said and smiled back. “And I happen to like it, right where it is.”
“If it were my kids in line, I would consider it.”
“No, you wouldn't,” Sarah said and walked to the weapons trunk pushed in the corner. John had cleaned and arranged everything with same precision Sarah had cleaned and arranged her own weapons. “I trained my son the best I could, just like you trained yours, and we both know that they can take care of themselves. They don't need their parents to look out for them anymore.”
“All boys need their mother,” John said quietly. Sarah heard the faint clatter of the bullets as John loaded the magazine, then the slide and the click as he pushed it in.
“Do you want me to chop your head off? Is that what this is about?” Sarah picked the machete from the trunk, pulling it out of the sheath, admiring the brightness of its polished surface. John's weapons were always top-notch, but her machete was sharper. “Because I thought we were looking for the Yellow-Eyed demon.”
Before John could say anything else, there was a knock on the door. They both stood still for a split second, before moving in rehearsed unison. John went to the door and Sarah went to the window. She had a good view to the back porch through the corner pane. A tall brunette stood on the porch, clutching a handbag under her arm. She looked tough and decisive, but not like much of a fighter.
It was the shoes.
They were completely ridiculous, high-heeled and garishly red. You don't walk to a fight with shoes like that. The woman knocked again, harder.
“Lady with the machete, I know you're in there! I need to speak to you. Open up!”
Sarah turned to look at John, surprised. There was no way to see inside that clearly from where the woman stood. John shrugged. There was a third knock.
“Let me in! We don't have time for this!”
Sarah nodded and John opened the door. The woman barged in, ignoring the gun pointed at her.
“You! Do not open that portal! Something will come through and whatever it is, it will be bad. Trust me, you don't want to see it,” the woman said. “It was bad enough when I saw it.”
“Alright,” Sarah said calmly, glancing at John who shrugged again. He didn't know her. Sarah considered the situation. The woman looked serious, upset, and most importantly, sane. Sarah could tell the difference. “And who are you?”
“Hi, I'm Cordelia,” she said and pulled up a chair, flopping down. “I've had the worst day imaginable, and that is saying a lot. Do you have, like, soda or something? I've walked around the whole neighborhood looking for the right house. And really, what's up with that?” She waved at the machete, like it was an insult to her to have it around. John looked like he was ready to laugh his ass off any second now. Sarah decided to play along, if only to see what this Cordelia wanted.
Sarah left the machete on the kitchen counter, still in reach if she should need it. John pushed the door shut. Cordelia didn't even turn to look. In her shoes, Sarah would've been worried. Not about twisting her ankle, but about being unarmed, outnumbered, and cut off from the exit. Sarah opened the fridge and took a beer, handing it over to her. Cordelia didn't look too thrilled, but she took the bottle anyway.
“How did you find us?”
“What did you see?”
They asked their questions at the same time. For a moment there was an awkward silence, while John waited her to ask again, and Sarah did the same. Cordelia shook her head and sighed.
“I've had three visions today, I could use less tension. I saw this house, a portal opening in the front lawn, a big metal thing coming through, then the usual: fire, screaming, dead bodies. I see these things a lot you know, but this was different. Huge. In my vision, the portal won't close.”
“Vision? Are you serious?” John asked. “Psychics are frauds, every last one of them.”
“I'm not a psychic! I see the future, because it's our job to keep it from happening and that is exactly...No, wait, what are you doing? Stop!”
Sarah saw John's intention before his hand even moved and she was right there with him, reaching for the machete as John grabbed a hold of Cordelia, pressing his gun against her head. Cordelia struggled in his hold, her shoes scraping against the slippery linoleum.
“Our job? Who else is out there?”
Cordelia said nothing, just stared at Sarah like she seriously expected her to help. Sarah scoffed and moved to the window, checking the back. At first it looked empty, but there was a sudden movement, too fast to see, and the back door crashed off of its hinges, the frame splintering from the force.
“Let go of her. Now,” someone shouted from the outside.
John dragged Cordelia to her feet, holding her as a shield against whoever stood at the door. Sarah couldn't see him, because he didn't step in the room.
“You work for a demon,” John said. “That is never a good idea, little girl. What are you? Wolfram and Hart?”
“No, stupid! We try to stop Wolfram and Hart!” Cordelia said, trying to twist enough in John's hold to land a kick on him. Sarah wanted to laugh, it was so adorable. “That's Angel, and you're in so much trouble you have no idea! We will save all those people, and stop you from opening that portal!”
“You saw it wrong. I don't want a portal,” Sarah said. “I've never wanted it. And I certainly won't make one either.”
“What?” Cordelia froze in John's hold.
“John, let her go. She is a plain distraction,” Sarah ordered and John pushed Cordelia toward the door.
“Run along now, girl. We don't have time for silly games, we have work to do.”
“Excuse me! I'm not plain! Or a distraction! And we had work to do here first, you can't just ignore my visions, they are always signs off...”
“Cordelia, stop talking and come here. Now.”
“Angel, they don't take this seriously! How about all those people I saw, and the metal thing that kills them? Does no one here care about that?” Cordelia asked. She didn't seem to have any intention to leave. Sarah glanced at John, who stared outside, to the man standing there. Sarah didn't have to ask why he didn't step in the room.
“As far as time portals and robots go, she is the expert,” John said and raised his gun slightly. “And what comes to vampires and psychics, I'm the expert. You two have nothing to do here, so you better get going before I loose my patience.”
Cordelia sighed, loud and dramatic, before stomping out the door. They could hear her complaints all the way down to the street. John waited until he heard the car start before clicking the safety back on.
“That was interesting. Shame about the door though,” Sarah said, looking at the damage.
“This is not good. I don't like being exposed like this. Psychics? I don't believe it.”
“We should head back to north, check that rumor about the Colt,” Sarah suggested, already moving, gathering their things. “That could be the reason they wanted to distract us with this portal business.”
“It's a possibility. Whatever the reason, we have to leave.”
“I'll get my bags.”
-END-
Prompt: “wrong time/wrong place”