The Same Coin [6/?]
I apologize for the long delay. Not only was this an incredibly difficult chapter to write, but I was also struggling with a case of writer’s block the likes of which I’ve never seen before. I think most of the problems have been ironed out by now, but nothing can make meshing two stories together any easier even when they work as well together as SG-1 and Supernatural. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and here’s hoping chapter 7 won’t take so long to write!
I want to thank i_paint_the_sky for taking the time to edit this chapter for me. I’d also like to thank missrose54 for being there to bounce ideas off of!
One | Two | Three | Four | Five
Title: The Same Coin
Shows: Supernatural/Stargate SG-1
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Adventure/Hurt/Comfort
Spoilers: None for either show
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from either Supernatural or Stargate SG-1
Summary: Crossover with Stargate SG-1. Sam and Dean are on the hunt for a demon, what happens when the rash of unexplained deaths attracts the attention of the SGC? -Set during Season 2 of Supernatural-
Dean slowly edged his way back to consciousness, his body fighting to shrug off the effects of the sedative he’d been given. Sounds were the first thing that came into focus for Dean, and he could hear voices speaking softly somewhere off to his right. Their words were too low for Dean to make out exactly what was being said. That he wasn’t alone sent a shot of adrenalin coursing through his veins burning off the sluggishness that was weighing him down.
Shifting on the bed Dean forced his heavy lids to open, letting the light filter in through his lashes. He could make out the faded green of a hospital gown covering him. Memories assaulted Dean, from the last time he’d woken up in a hospital.
‘I want you to watch out for Sammy, okay?’ his dad’s voice echoed in his head, sending shivers racing down his spine. ‘Don’t be scared, Dean,’ who was John trying to kid? He’d never been more scared in his life.
‘You have to save him, Dean, whatever it takes, nothing else matters.’ He’d been so confused by those words, scared by the light he’d seen in John’s eyes in those moments. ‘But Dean, if you can’t save him, you’ll have to kill him.’
Dean shut his eyes tightly against the memory, fists coming to press against his closed lids. Some of the weight had been lifted from his shoulders after telling Sam the truth but not near enough. He really had no control over the situation and Dean was never comfortable relinquishing control.
“Dean,” Sam’s voice shattered the fog.
The older hunter’s eyes snapped open at the relieved sound of his brother’s voice. “Sammy,” he barked the name pushing himself up from the bed. Dean ducked his head sharply as blackness swam over his vision and he listed to one side suddenly feeling separated from his body.
“Woah!” he heard Sam call arms reaching out to catch him.
Drawing in a few steadying breaths Dean attempted to shake the sense of vertigo that was still clinging to him, not comfortable showing any amount of weakness in their present situation.
“What did you give him?” Sam’s voice resonated into Dean’s ear and realized that he was leaning heavily against his brother’s chest.
“I’m alright,” he tried to reassure, making a conscious effort to open his eyes and support himself. When his vision cleared Dean saw a pretty doctor standing next to his brother. There was concern in her eyes, which for some reason Dean hadn’t been expecting.
“Sorry,” she apologized with a tiny smile, “It’s a rather strong sedative, needs to be to keep the Gou’ald down.” The last sounded more to herself as she reached into the breast pocket of her lab coat and removed a penlight.
Dean pushed himself off of Sam, hazel eyes sweeping quickly over the room, for the first time taking note of the guards standing by the door. They didn’t appear overly concerned that one of their people was standing so close to the Winchesters. Dean saw the situation for what it could be and it made him wonder why he hadn’t woken up chained to the bed.
“Can you tell me your name?” the doctor asked her left hand taking hold of his chin while she flashed the focused beam of light across his eyes.
He squinted pulling away before casting a glance towards Sam, only to receive a shrug in reply. Dean knew that they already had his real name but that didn’t make it feel any less wrong to give it himself. “Dean Winchester,” he said forcing a smile, “And you are?”
“Dr. Janet Fraiser,” she replied, eyes glancing between the two of them.
“Nice to meet you,” he said with only a little sarcasm. “Could we have a minute?” he asked nodding towards Sam.
Dr. Fraiser blinked in surprise but offered him a brief smile before stepping away from the bed.
“Dude, what the hell?” Dean hissed, watching the doctor as she picked up a phone at her desk.
Sam opened his mouth to reply but Dean over road him, “Seriously! What the hell is going on here?!”
“You were right,” Sam began, keeping his voice down, “They thought we were aliens, Gou’ald actually.”
Dean looked up at his brother, pulling a hand down his jaw. It just wasn’t adding up. “Okay, so now what?” He looked down at himself, taking note of his bandaged wrist before his eyes swept over the room again.
The younger hunter blew out a breath, “Damned if I know.”
“I mean, are we being held prisoner?” he asked hazel eyes studying the two soldiers by the door.
“I guess…” Sam said with a shrug, also glancing back towards the door. “I spoke with Colonel O’Neill.”
“What do they know?” Dean asked scrubbing at his eyes.
“At first, just what was in the FBI file.”
“But now?” he pressed with a frustrated sigh.
“Now, I’m pretty sure you’re out of your minds,” a familiar voice answered.
Dean blinked, completely surprised to see Colonel Jack O’Neill standing at the foot of the bed and he mentally cursed the sedative fogging his senses.
Forcing his eyes to focus, Dean took a minute to study the man and was taken by surprise when he felt a sense of painful nostalgia come over him. In several ways Jack reminded Dean sharply of his father; he knew it was the military influence, he just hadn’t been prepared for it. He felt a lump form deep in his throat but quickly put it down to the drug still in his system and the fact that he was sitting in a hospital bed. The last place he’d ever seen his father alive.
He cleared his throat looking the man directly in the eyes. “You face down aliens pretending to be Egyptian gods, but ghosts you find hard to believe?” He still found the knowledge of the SGC hard to swallow. Aliens being a hoax had been so ingrained in him it was hard to imagine they actually existed and Dean considered himself rather open to new ideas.
Sam folded his arms across his chest with a snort, “Already had that conversation.”
“But you still haven’t told me how you hacked our system,” Jack stated firmly, clearly indicating that was the only bit of information he was actually interested in.
Dean cast a quick glance towards his brother, noting the firm set of Sam’s jaw. He knew they were in over their heads, that the knowledge Ash had hacked for them was actually way more trouble that it was worth. But he didn’t want to dump that on Ash’s doorstep, though the thought of the army unknowingly converging on Harvelle’s made him smirk.
“I’ve got a better question,” Dean began, eyes scanning the room a little more closely. “Where are my clothes?”
Jack didn’t say anything immediately and Dean found himself staring the Colonel down. He got the distinct impression that Jack was purposefully taking the time to size him up and Dean didn’t know quite what to make of it. Particularly, Dean remembered Detective Sheridan; that man had sized him up too but he hadn’t seemed nearly so amused. There had been no mistaking the officer’s opinion of Dean but with O’Neill he just wasn’t so sure.
Finally Jack nodded his head, and Dean saw Dr. Fraiser moving back towards the bed, his clothes in hand. “Minus your weapons, of course,” the Colonel said with a brief smile.
Dean offered the Colonel a sarcastic smile of his own as he took his clothes from the doctor and quickly began getting dressed. With his jeans on and belted, Dean reached back for the tie on the hospital gown stopping when he saw the flash of white bandage around his wrist again. “What happened while I was out?” he asked, directing the question more towards Sam, though he realized there was a strong possibility his brother wouldn’t know.
“Apparently you broke the restraints during an MRI,” Sam answered handing Dean his t-shirt.
“Huh,” he grunted, the fuzzy memories flooding back to the surface as he pulled the light material down over his chest. “So what are we exactly? Prisoners? Guests?” he knew the second option wasn’t likely, but the lack of cuffs was really confusing him.
“Why can’t it be both?” Jack returned with a half smile and raised eyebrow.
Shrugging into his leather jacket Dean offered the Colonel an unimpressed look, “Alright, what happens now?”
“Now, you come with me,” O’Neill turned to leave the room, and the two guards standing by the door shifted position clearly waiting for Sam and Dean to step out ahead of them.
“Take me to your leader?” Dean asked Sam softly.
“Hilarious,” his brother replied voice dry.
Dean rolled his shoulders with a smirk and eyed the guard flanking him, before surveying the hall Jack was leading them through. He took note of the different painted lines running across the smooth cement floor and wondered where they’d lead him. “How far down do you think we are?” he asked glancing at Sam through the corner of his eye.
“Can’t remember,” Sam answered, “More than twenty-four levels I think.”
Dean slowed his pace when he saw Jack come to a stop outside an elevator, “So not likely to escape…” he muttered.
O’Neill propped his foot against the opened elevator door, motioning with his free hand for Sam and Dean to step inside.
He did so but his mind flashed with possible ways of escape. They might have been outnumbered but in this closed space of the lift Dean knew he could use it to his advantage. The glowing lights on the panel told him that they were, in fact, twenty-one levels down. Dean knew even if he managed to subdue O’Neill and his men, the likelihood of he and Sam escaping NORAD was low to say the very least. The hunter sighed as he pressed his back against the wall and pulled his right hand down his jaw; he didn’t like this one bit.
The elevator came to a quick stop six floors further down and Jack lead the way into a fair sized conference room. Dean was a little surprised to see glass windows this far below ground. What lay beyond them was hidden by a blast shield. Surprise struck Dean when he realized where they’d been taken; he remembered what he’d read about Stargate Command and was pretty sure they were at the heart of it.
Four chairs were already occupied. Dean recognized three of them and also knew the man seated at the head of the table was General Hammond, the man in control of the SGC. He caught sight of a familiar battered book lying opened in front of Daniel Jackson; the archeologist appeared completely engrossed by what he was reading. Sam’s laptop was also there, with Samantha Carter typing away on it.
“General Hammond,” Colonel O’Neill said, drawing all eyes to the end of the table. “Dean and Samuel Winchester,” Jack introduced, before moving to his own chair.
The General nodded his head curtly looking both of them up and down “Take a seat,” he instructed with a strong Texan accent.
Dean cast a brief glance at his brother before taking the first empty chair, “Interesting reading?” Dean asked, catching Dr. Jackson’s eye as he briefly glanced up from John’s journal.
“It seems like something of an obsession,” Daniel commented flipping back a page.
“You watch your wife get taken by evil and tell me you wouldn’t be a little obsessed too.” He had to fight the urge to reach across the table and pull the book to him; it was a piece of his father and not something Dean liked to see in the hands of a stranger.
Dr. Jackson’s head came up sharply, a fierce light in his pale blue eyes as he stared at Dean. The hunter thought he might have struck a nerve and was about to press for something more when the General cleared his throat.
“Gentlemen,” Hammond’s voice broke their stare.
“Well, that’s a nice change,” Dean commented to Sam before looking directly at the older man.
Hammond didn’t appear impressed, “I don’t think I have to tell you, you’ve stepped into a world of trouble.”
“Actually, that’s kind of par for the course,” Dean tossed back, using sarcasm as he always did in these uncontrollable situations.
“How far has this information gone?” he continued pointing to Sam’s laptop
The younger hunter leaned against the table catching Dean’s eye with a silent ‘let me handle this one.’ “No further than that computer,” Sam answered smoothly.
“And you expect us to believe that?” O’Neill returned immediately, his skepticism evident.
Dean felt his frustration rise. “If you’re not going to, then why ask the question?” he threw back.
Captain Carter sat a little straighter in her chair, “Because we know you couldn’t have obtained the information on your own.” There was no hesitation to her words, no chance of doubt as she looked down the table locking eyes with Dean. “The breech happened at 16:00 hours, and you two were just leaving the University of the Rockies at that time,” she informed before glancing towards the General.
Swiveling his chair towards Sam, Dean considered their limited options, based on what he already knew from what Sam had told him. Ash wasn’t about to do anything other than delete the information he’d hacked for them. Hindsight being what it was, doing the same looked to Dean to be the smartest move they could have made. Too late for that.
“I’m telling you, the information we have is only on that computer,” Sam stated honestly. “When we saw you at the house we wanted to know what the military would be doing getting involved in demonic killings.”
“By the way, you might want to work on your cover story,” Dean put in, turning back towards the head of the table. “It’s the reason why we pushed deeper.” He bit down on a yelp of pain as Sam’s heel slammed down on his foot and sat a little straighter in his chair.
“Son, this is no laughing matter,” Hammond boomed, leaning his folded hands on the tabletop. “You’ve uncovered State secrets a good portion of the government isn’t even aware of. Do you realize how serious this is?”
Dean nodded his head once, glancing exaggeratedly around the room, “Kind of hard to miss.”
“Dude,” Sam hissed in warning.
“If you don’t want to cooperate that’s fine,” O’Neill said easily. “We’ll find out who you’re working with.” He received a firm nod of agreement from Captain Carter, as she continued working on Sam’s laptop.
“We aren’t working with anyone,” Sam assured, but there was no reason for any of them to believe a word they said.
“And we’re not reporters trying to uncover the SGC,” Dean put in quickly. “We’re hunters trying to put an end to the killings.” He seriously doubted there was anything he could say right now that would help them but he had to try.
General Hammond leaned back in his chair, his expression hard to read as he studied both Sam and Dean. “Hunters,” he said the word with a slight nod of his head, “of the supernatural.”
“You going to tell me some human shredded those poor bastards?” Dean scoffed, unable to believe men in this job could be so skeptical of the supernatural, though he supposed the same could be said for him.
“You’re going to tell me it was a demon,” the Colonel returned, tone mimicking Dean’s.
“Well, it could be,” Daniel spoke up slowly, his attention still appearing more focused on the journal than the rest of the room. “Think of it as a matter of perception: if you didn’t know the Gou’ald were aliens you’d probably consider them to be demons.”
“Not everything is an alien,” Dean said with a dry laugh.
“You learn to speak in terms he’ll accept,” the archeologist returned with a shrug.
“Alright,” O’Neill snapped, “What proof do you have that a ‘demon’ is what we’re dealing with?”
“Autopsy reports don’t lie,” Sam pointed out calmly. “How do you explain the sulfur?”
“I suppose if you wanted to be very literal, this creature would be leaving traces of Hell on its victims,” Daniel mused.
“Give the man a cigar,” Dean said as he shifted to the edge of his seat, “Everything supernatural leaves some sort of trace behind, sulfur, EMF, hot spots. If you know what you’re looking for you can track them.”
“As fascinating as all of this is,” Hammond drawled, effectively drawing all eyes back to him. “This is not my main concern; I have a responsibility to maintain the security of this facility.”
Dean rubbed his right hand across his jaw, “Translation, we’re your prisoners.”
“You will be detained here, until such time as we’ve decided what to do with you,” the General agreed, getting to his feet.
“Of course your cooperation would go a long way,” Captain Carter pointed out.
“Right,” Dean breathed, getting to his feet, “Somehow I don’t think anything we say is really going to make that big of a difference.”
“Perhaps that’s just lack of imagination on your part,” O’Neill quipped, slapping his palms together as he stood.
Dean shook his head, fists clenching at his sides. He wanted to say more, to point out just how hypocritical that statement was coming from the Colonel. But his comment was cut off by the guards returning to the room, guns held easily but their stances were cautious as they waited for their orders.
“Take them back to the holding cell,” Jack instructed before turning back to the table, studying the laptop screen over Carter’s shoulder.
“Yes, Sir,” the man closest to Dean said before stepping aside. “This way,” he said firmly.
They were met outside of the briefing room by two more armed soldiers; clearly O’Neill wasn’t taking any chances. Dean did his best to keep track of the halls they passed through, knowing if they did chance an escape they’d need to know where to go. It didn’t help that just about all the halls looked the same.
Stepping inside the small room, Dean glanced over his surroundings without much interest and listened to the door lock securely behind them. “Got any bright ideas?” he asked scrubbing his left hand across his short hair.
“Not really our move to make,” Sam responded with a sigh dropping down on the bunk bed.
“What do you make of O’Neill?” he switched topics, hopping up onto the table across from his brother.
“Unpredictable.”
“That’s an understatement,” Dean gripped the edge of the table, rolling his shoulders. “How the hell did he even get this job?”
---SPN/SG-1---
Jack folded his arms across his chest and settled his weight back on his left leg as he watched the monitor in front of him. They knew they were being watched, Dean had spotted the camera the moment he stepped inside the room, so he wasn’t expecting anything of value to come from this.
“That’s an understatement,” Dean replied, voice dripping with sarcasm, “How the hell did he even get this job?”
Sam leaned back on the bed his face slipping out of view, “You forgetting he’s military?”
Jack’s lips twitched.
“I would have thought you’d need a little imagination to get a job like that,” the comment was pointed and Dean turned his head a fraction glancing towards the camera.
The speakers crackled suddenly, the image jumping rapidly before settling again, “What the…” Jack muttered as it happened again.
---SPN/SG-1---
The lights flickered sharply above Dean’s head and the hunter straightened, eyes darting to Sam who was now perched on the edge of the bed.
As the lights hissed and sparked again, Dean got to his feet, “What are the chances they haven’t paid their electrical bill?”
“Is it the demon?” Sam asked rhetorically, getting up from the bed.
A large shadow across the far wall shifted: it was subtle enough to write off as a trick of the eyes, if you didn’t know better. “I’d have to say yes,” Dean muttered, moving to put himself between the creature and his brother.
“We have to get out of here,” Sam said urgently.
“Try pounding on the door,” Dean suggested, as the lights went out again.
A loud shriek penetrated the darkness before the lights flooded the room again and Dean found himself staring at the demon’s corporeal form. Even the lights weren’t enough to overcome the shadow but Dean didn’t need to see what it looked like to be all too aware of the sharp claws swinging towards him.
Thanks for reading!
Go to: Five | Seven
I want to thank i_paint_the_sky for taking the time to edit this chapter for me. I’d also like to thank missrose54 for being there to bounce ideas off of!
One | Two | Three | Four | Five
Title: The Same Coin
Shows: Supernatural/Stargate SG-1
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Adventure/Hurt/Comfort
Spoilers: None for either show
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from either Supernatural or Stargate SG-1
Summary: Crossover with Stargate SG-1. Sam and Dean are on the hunt for a demon, what happens when the rash of unexplained deaths attracts the attention of the SGC? -Set during Season 2 of Supernatural-
Dean slowly edged his way back to consciousness, his body fighting to shrug off the effects of the sedative he’d been given. Sounds were the first thing that came into focus for Dean, and he could hear voices speaking softly somewhere off to his right. Their words were too low for Dean to make out exactly what was being said. That he wasn’t alone sent a shot of adrenalin coursing through his veins burning off the sluggishness that was weighing him down.
Shifting on the bed Dean forced his heavy lids to open, letting the light filter in through his lashes. He could make out the faded green of a hospital gown covering him. Memories assaulted Dean, from the last time he’d woken up in a hospital.
‘I want you to watch out for Sammy, okay?’ his dad’s voice echoed in his head, sending shivers racing down his spine. ‘Don’t be scared, Dean,’ who was John trying to kid? He’d never been more scared in his life.
‘You have to save him, Dean, whatever it takes, nothing else matters.’ He’d been so confused by those words, scared by the light he’d seen in John’s eyes in those moments. ‘But Dean, if you can’t save him, you’ll have to kill him.’
Dean shut his eyes tightly against the memory, fists coming to press against his closed lids. Some of the weight had been lifted from his shoulders after telling Sam the truth but not near enough. He really had no control over the situation and Dean was never comfortable relinquishing control.
“Dean,” Sam’s voice shattered the fog.
The older hunter’s eyes snapped open at the relieved sound of his brother’s voice. “Sammy,” he barked the name pushing himself up from the bed. Dean ducked his head sharply as blackness swam over his vision and he listed to one side suddenly feeling separated from his body.
“Woah!” he heard Sam call arms reaching out to catch him.
Drawing in a few steadying breaths Dean attempted to shake the sense of vertigo that was still clinging to him, not comfortable showing any amount of weakness in their present situation.
“What did you give him?” Sam’s voice resonated into Dean’s ear and realized that he was leaning heavily against his brother’s chest.
“I’m alright,” he tried to reassure, making a conscious effort to open his eyes and support himself. When his vision cleared Dean saw a pretty doctor standing next to his brother. There was concern in her eyes, which for some reason Dean hadn’t been expecting.
“Sorry,” she apologized with a tiny smile, “It’s a rather strong sedative, needs to be to keep the Gou’ald down.” The last sounded more to herself as she reached into the breast pocket of her lab coat and removed a penlight.
Dean pushed himself off of Sam, hazel eyes sweeping quickly over the room, for the first time taking note of the guards standing by the door. They didn’t appear overly concerned that one of their people was standing so close to the Winchesters. Dean saw the situation for what it could be and it made him wonder why he hadn’t woken up chained to the bed.
“Can you tell me your name?” the doctor asked her left hand taking hold of his chin while she flashed the focused beam of light across his eyes.
He squinted pulling away before casting a glance towards Sam, only to receive a shrug in reply. Dean knew that they already had his real name but that didn’t make it feel any less wrong to give it himself. “Dean Winchester,” he said forcing a smile, “And you are?”
“Dr. Janet Fraiser,” she replied, eyes glancing between the two of them.
“Nice to meet you,” he said with only a little sarcasm. “Could we have a minute?” he asked nodding towards Sam.
Dr. Fraiser blinked in surprise but offered him a brief smile before stepping away from the bed.
“Dude, what the hell?” Dean hissed, watching the doctor as she picked up a phone at her desk.
Sam opened his mouth to reply but Dean over road him, “Seriously! What the hell is going on here?!”
“You were right,” Sam began, keeping his voice down, “They thought we were aliens, Gou’ald actually.”
Dean looked up at his brother, pulling a hand down his jaw. It just wasn’t adding up. “Okay, so now what?” He looked down at himself, taking note of his bandaged wrist before his eyes swept over the room again.
The younger hunter blew out a breath, “Damned if I know.”
“I mean, are we being held prisoner?” he asked hazel eyes studying the two soldiers by the door.
“I guess…” Sam said with a shrug, also glancing back towards the door. “I spoke with Colonel O’Neill.”
“What do they know?” Dean asked scrubbing at his eyes.
“At first, just what was in the FBI file.”
“But now?” he pressed with a frustrated sigh.
“Now, I’m pretty sure you’re out of your minds,” a familiar voice answered.
Dean blinked, completely surprised to see Colonel Jack O’Neill standing at the foot of the bed and he mentally cursed the sedative fogging his senses.
Forcing his eyes to focus, Dean took a minute to study the man and was taken by surprise when he felt a sense of painful nostalgia come over him. In several ways Jack reminded Dean sharply of his father; he knew it was the military influence, he just hadn’t been prepared for it. He felt a lump form deep in his throat but quickly put it down to the drug still in his system and the fact that he was sitting in a hospital bed. The last place he’d ever seen his father alive.
He cleared his throat looking the man directly in the eyes. “You face down aliens pretending to be Egyptian gods, but ghosts you find hard to believe?” He still found the knowledge of the SGC hard to swallow. Aliens being a hoax had been so ingrained in him it was hard to imagine they actually existed and Dean considered himself rather open to new ideas.
Sam folded his arms across his chest with a snort, “Already had that conversation.”
“But you still haven’t told me how you hacked our system,” Jack stated firmly, clearly indicating that was the only bit of information he was actually interested in.
Dean cast a quick glance towards his brother, noting the firm set of Sam’s jaw. He knew they were in over their heads, that the knowledge Ash had hacked for them was actually way more trouble that it was worth. But he didn’t want to dump that on Ash’s doorstep, though the thought of the army unknowingly converging on Harvelle’s made him smirk.
“I’ve got a better question,” Dean began, eyes scanning the room a little more closely. “Where are my clothes?”
Jack didn’t say anything immediately and Dean found himself staring the Colonel down. He got the distinct impression that Jack was purposefully taking the time to size him up and Dean didn’t know quite what to make of it. Particularly, Dean remembered Detective Sheridan; that man had sized him up too but he hadn’t seemed nearly so amused. There had been no mistaking the officer’s opinion of Dean but with O’Neill he just wasn’t so sure.
Finally Jack nodded his head, and Dean saw Dr. Fraiser moving back towards the bed, his clothes in hand. “Minus your weapons, of course,” the Colonel said with a brief smile.
Dean offered the Colonel a sarcastic smile of his own as he took his clothes from the doctor and quickly began getting dressed. With his jeans on and belted, Dean reached back for the tie on the hospital gown stopping when he saw the flash of white bandage around his wrist again. “What happened while I was out?” he asked, directing the question more towards Sam, though he realized there was a strong possibility his brother wouldn’t know.
“Apparently you broke the restraints during an MRI,” Sam answered handing Dean his t-shirt.
“Huh,” he grunted, the fuzzy memories flooding back to the surface as he pulled the light material down over his chest. “So what are we exactly? Prisoners? Guests?” he knew the second option wasn’t likely, but the lack of cuffs was really confusing him.
“Why can’t it be both?” Jack returned with a half smile and raised eyebrow.
Shrugging into his leather jacket Dean offered the Colonel an unimpressed look, “Alright, what happens now?”
“Now, you come with me,” O’Neill turned to leave the room, and the two guards standing by the door shifted position clearly waiting for Sam and Dean to step out ahead of them.
“Take me to your leader?” Dean asked Sam softly.
“Hilarious,” his brother replied voice dry.
Dean rolled his shoulders with a smirk and eyed the guard flanking him, before surveying the hall Jack was leading them through. He took note of the different painted lines running across the smooth cement floor and wondered where they’d lead him. “How far down do you think we are?” he asked glancing at Sam through the corner of his eye.
“Can’t remember,” Sam answered, “More than twenty-four levels I think.”
Dean slowed his pace when he saw Jack come to a stop outside an elevator, “So not likely to escape…” he muttered.
O’Neill propped his foot against the opened elevator door, motioning with his free hand for Sam and Dean to step inside.
He did so but his mind flashed with possible ways of escape. They might have been outnumbered but in this closed space of the lift Dean knew he could use it to his advantage. The glowing lights on the panel told him that they were, in fact, twenty-one levels down. Dean knew even if he managed to subdue O’Neill and his men, the likelihood of he and Sam escaping NORAD was low to say the very least. The hunter sighed as he pressed his back against the wall and pulled his right hand down his jaw; he didn’t like this one bit.
The elevator came to a quick stop six floors further down and Jack lead the way into a fair sized conference room. Dean was a little surprised to see glass windows this far below ground. What lay beyond them was hidden by a blast shield. Surprise struck Dean when he realized where they’d been taken; he remembered what he’d read about Stargate Command and was pretty sure they were at the heart of it.
Four chairs were already occupied. Dean recognized three of them and also knew the man seated at the head of the table was General Hammond, the man in control of the SGC. He caught sight of a familiar battered book lying opened in front of Daniel Jackson; the archeologist appeared completely engrossed by what he was reading. Sam’s laptop was also there, with Samantha Carter typing away on it.
“General Hammond,” Colonel O’Neill said, drawing all eyes to the end of the table. “Dean and Samuel Winchester,” Jack introduced, before moving to his own chair.
The General nodded his head curtly looking both of them up and down “Take a seat,” he instructed with a strong Texan accent.
Dean cast a brief glance at his brother before taking the first empty chair, “Interesting reading?” Dean asked, catching Dr. Jackson’s eye as he briefly glanced up from John’s journal.
“It seems like something of an obsession,” Daniel commented flipping back a page.
“You watch your wife get taken by evil and tell me you wouldn’t be a little obsessed too.” He had to fight the urge to reach across the table and pull the book to him; it was a piece of his father and not something Dean liked to see in the hands of a stranger.
Dr. Jackson’s head came up sharply, a fierce light in his pale blue eyes as he stared at Dean. The hunter thought he might have struck a nerve and was about to press for something more when the General cleared his throat.
“Gentlemen,” Hammond’s voice broke their stare.
“Well, that’s a nice change,” Dean commented to Sam before looking directly at the older man.
Hammond didn’t appear impressed, “I don’t think I have to tell you, you’ve stepped into a world of trouble.”
“Actually, that’s kind of par for the course,” Dean tossed back, using sarcasm as he always did in these uncontrollable situations.
“How far has this information gone?” he continued pointing to Sam’s laptop
The younger hunter leaned against the table catching Dean’s eye with a silent ‘let me handle this one.’ “No further than that computer,” Sam answered smoothly.
“And you expect us to believe that?” O’Neill returned immediately, his skepticism evident.
Dean felt his frustration rise. “If you’re not going to, then why ask the question?” he threw back.
Captain Carter sat a little straighter in her chair, “Because we know you couldn’t have obtained the information on your own.” There was no hesitation to her words, no chance of doubt as she looked down the table locking eyes with Dean. “The breech happened at 16:00 hours, and you two were just leaving the University of the Rockies at that time,” she informed before glancing towards the General.
Swiveling his chair towards Sam, Dean considered their limited options, based on what he already knew from what Sam had told him. Ash wasn’t about to do anything other than delete the information he’d hacked for them. Hindsight being what it was, doing the same looked to Dean to be the smartest move they could have made. Too late for that.
“I’m telling you, the information we have is only on that computer,” Sam stated honestly. “When we saw you at the house we wanted to know what the military would be doing getting involved in demonic killings.”
“By the way, you might want to work on your cover story,” Dean put in, turning back towards the head of the table. “It’s the reason why we pushed deeper.” He bit down on a yelp of pain as Sam’s heel slammed down on his foot and sat a little straighter in his chair.
“Son, this is no laughing matter,” Hammond boomed, leaning his folded hands on the tabletop. “You’ve uncovered State secrets a good portion of the government isn’t even aware of. Do you realize how serious this is?”
Dean nodded his head once, glancing exaggeratedly around the room, “Kind of hard to miss.”
“Dude,” Sam hissed in warning.
“If you don’t want to cooperate that’s fine,” O’Neill said easily. “We’ll find out who you’re working with.” He received a firm nod of agreement from Captain Carter, as she continued working on Sam’s laptop.
“We aren’t working with anyone,” Sam assured, but there was no reason for any of them to believe a word they said.
“And we’re not reporters trying to uncover the SGC,” Dean put in quickly. “We’re hunters trying to put an end to the killings.” He seriously doubted there was anything he could say right now that would help them but he had to try.
General Hammond leaned back in his chair, his expression hard to read as he studied both Sam and Dean. “Hunters,” he said the word with a slight nod of his head, “of the supernatural.”
“You going to tell me some human shredded those poor bastards?” Dean scoffed, unable to believe men in this job could be so skeptical of the supernatural, though he supposed the same could be said for him.
“You’re going to tell me it was a demon,” the Colonel returned, tone mimicking Dean’s.
“Well, it could be,” Daniel spoke up slowly, his attention still appearing more focused on the journal than the rest of the room. “Think of it as a matter of perception: if you didn’t know the Gou’ald were aliens you’d probably consider them to be demons.”
“Not everything is an alien,” Dean said with a dry laugh.
“You learn to speak in terms he’ll accept,” the archeologist returned with a shrug.
“Alright,” O’Neill snapped, “What proof do you have that a ‘demon’ is what we’re dealing with?”
“Autopsy reports don’t lie,” Sam pointed out calmly. “How do you explain the sulfur?”
“I suppose if you wanted to be very literal, this creature would be leaving traces of Hell on its victims,” Daniel mused.
“Give the man a cigar,” Dean said as he shifted to the edge of his seat, “Everything supernatural leaves some sort of trace behind, sulfur, EMF, hot spots. If you know what you’re looking for you can track them.”
“As fascinating as all of this is,” Hammond drawled, effectively drawing all eyes back to him. “This is not my main concern; I have a responsibility to maintain the security of this facility.”
Dean rubbed his right hand across his jaw, “Translation, we’re your prisoners.”
“You will be detained here, until such time as we’ve decided what to do with you,” the General agreed, getting to his feet.
“Of course your cooperation would go a long way,” Captain Carter pointed out.
“Right,” Dean breathed, getting to his feet, “Somehow I don’t think anything we say is really going to make that big of a difference.”
“Perhaps that’s just lack of imagination on your part,” O’Neill quipped, slapping his palms together as he stood.
Dean shook his head, fists clenching at his sides. He wanted to say more, to point out just how hypocritical that statement was coming from the Colonel. But his comment was cut off by the guards returning to the room, guns held easily but their stances were cautious as they waited for their orders.
“Take them back to the holding cell,” Jack instructed before turning back to the table, studying the laptop screen over Carter’s shoulder.
“Yes, Sir,” the man closest to Dean said before stepping aside. “This way,” he said firmly.
They were met outside of the briefing room by two more armed soldiers; clearly O’Neill wasn’t taking any chances. Dean did his best to keep track of the halls they passed through, knowing if they did chance an escape they’d need to know where to go. It didn’t help that just about all the halls looked the same.
Stepping inside the small room, Dean glanced over his surroundings without much interest and listened to the door lock securely behind them. “Got any bright ideas?” he asked scrubbing his left hand across his short hair.
“Not really our move to make,” Sam responded with a sigh dropping down on the bunk bed.
“What do you make of O’Neill?” he switched topics, hopping up onto the table across from his brother.
“Unpredictable.”
“That’s an understatement,” Dean gripped the edge of the table, rolling his shoulders. “How the hell did he even get this job?”
---SPN/SG-1---
Jack folded his arms across his chest and settled his weight back on his left leg as he watched the monitor in front of him. They knew they were being watched, Dean had spotted the camera the moment he stepped inside the room, so he wasn’t expecting anything of value to come from this.
“That’s an understatement,” Dean replied, voice dripping with sarcasm, “How the hell did he even get this job?”
Sam leaned back on the bed his face slipping out of view, “You forgetting he’s military?”
Jack’s lips twitched.
“I would have thought you’d need a little imagination to get a job like that,” the comment was pointed and Dean turned his head a fraction glancing towards the camera.
The speakers crackled suddenly, the image jumping rapidly before settling again, “What the…” Jack muttered as it happened again.
---SPN/SG-1---
The lights flickered sharply above Dean’s head and the hunter straightened, eyes darting to Sam who was now perched on the edge of the bed.
As the lights hissed and sparked again, Dean got to his feet, “What are the chances they haven’t paid their electrical bill?”
“Is it the demon?” Sam asked rhetorically, getting up from the bed.
A large shadow across the far wall shifted: it was subtle enough to write off as a trick of the eyes, if you didn’t know better. “I’d have to say yes,” Dean muttered, moving to put himself between the creature and his brother.
“We have to get out of here,” Sam said urgently.
“Try pounding on the door,” Dean suggested, as the lights went out again.
A loud shriek penetrated the darkness before the lights flooded the room again and Dean found himself staring at the demon’s corporeal form. Even the lights weren’t enough to overcome the shadow but Dean didn’t need to see what it looked like to be all too aware of the sharp claws swinging towards him.
Thanks for reading!
Go to: Five | Seven