The Same Coin [7/?]
I know most of you probably think cliffhangers are evil, but they really do help me with writing the following chapter. When I end with a cliffy I know exactly how the next chapter is going to start, and from there the rest flows relatively easily. However remove the cliffhanger and it can be difficult to decide where to start. Which is the problem I've run into right now with chapter 8. I'm sure I'll figure it out soon enough, I'm attempt to clear my slate so I can focus more on The Same Coin. I hope you enjoy!
I'm dedicating this chapter to missrose54 you rock my world!
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six
Title: The Same Coin
Shows: Supernatural/Stargate SG-1
Author: yacoba
Beta: i_paint_the_sky
Word Count: 3 182
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-
The picture on screen sputtered and jumped, blurring out before returning to sharp focus. Static crackled over the speakers but Jack could still make out what Sam and Dean were saying.
“What are the chances they haven’t paid their electrical bill?” Dean’s sarcasm. As irritating as it could be, Jack found he could appreciate on some level, though it made getting a read on the kid difficult.
“Is it the demon?” Sam asked warily.
Jack rolled his eyes. He’d seen much in his life, far more than the average man but he hadn’t witnessed anything concerning the ‘afterlife’ that couldn’t be explained away. For Charlie’s sake he secretly hoped it was better than here but that didn’t change the fact that Jack preferred to deal with hard evidence. There was no use denying what was right in front of you.
Peering at the screen, Jack could see the Winchesters were staring intently at the back wall of their room, like they were expecting something to happen.
“I’d have to say yes,” Dean muttered as he moved to put himself in front of his brother.
Sam’s urgent words came through the static loud and clear, “We have to get out of here.”
-What is this? Some sort of escape attempt?- Jack wondered silently. As cautious as he was, he hadn’t honestly expected they’d try anything. The Winchesters both seemed to understand the gravity of their situation, even if they were refusing to take it seriously.
“Try pounding on the door,” Dean said as the lights in their room went out again and the recording image jumped violently.
When the image settled again, Jack could see a darkly shadowed creature that hadn’t been there just seconds before. “Teal’c,” O’Neill called sharply.
“What is it, O’Neill?” the large Jaffa asked solemnly, coming to stand behind the Colonel.
“You ever see anything like that?” he asked, pointing at the screen.
Teal’c leaned a little closer to the monitor one eyebrow raised, “I have not.”
“Dean!” Sam’s voice was panicked.
“We need weapons,” he said, heading from the room, quickly making his way towards the secondary armory.
---SPN/SG-1---
“Dean!”
“Stay back!” he barked, hearing Sam pound on the metal door.
Not taking his eyes off the demon, Dean reached for his belt buckle, knowing full well the iron knife he’d welded to it would do little to stop the creature’s advances. The blackness appeared to ripple a second before it lunged for Dean’s throat. Jumping back, Dean stuck the creature’s arm with the tip of his knife, still a little surprised it actually connected with something solid.
“Open the fucking door!” Sam shouted urgently, but Dean barely heard him over the demon’s shrieks of rage.
Glancing down at the knife protruding from between his index and middle finger, Dean realized he’d only succeeded in making the demon madder. It lashed out at him faster than his eye could follow; pain erupted across Dean’s left shoulder as he fell back from the force of the blow.
“Dean!” he heard Sam shout again.
The demon was on top of the hunter before his blood had even begun to flow freely down his arm. Dean stabbed with the knife, trying but failing to bite down on a cry of pain as the creature dug into his chest.
“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, et secta diabolica,” Sam’s voice rose up over the roar in Dean’s ears, the Latin flowing from his tongue with practiced ease. “Ergo draco maledicte et section.”
-That’s not going to work Sam- Dean vaguely thought as he fought to remain conscious, the iron knife falling from numb fingers as his vision blurred.
“Ergo draco maledicte et legio secta diabolica.”
The demon shrieked in pain, pulling back sharply, the scent of blood and sulfur overwhelming the air.
“Ut Ecclésiam tuam secúra tibi fácias servire libertáte, te rogámus, audi nos!”
“Dean!” Sam was at his side, hands pressing against his shoulder and chest before the older Winchester’s mind even had a chance to realize the demon had vanished. “Hang on!”
Looking up at his brother, Dean felt his lips twist in a painful smirk, “I can’t believe that worked.”
Sam reached behind his brother, tearing the blanket from the bottom bunk, “Not a permanent fix, unfortunately.” Sam swallowed hard as he tired to staunch the flow of blood with the balled up sheets. Glancing over his shoulder, he still couldn’t believe no one had answered his calls for help.
“Still…” Dean said, drawing in a shallow breath, “Good thinking.”
“Same to you, how long have you had that?” he asked, jutting his chin towards the small knife, in an attempt to keep Dean alert and talking.
Dean smirked again, his face pale in the yellow light. “Since Milwaukee, not the first place they look for a weapon.”
An alarm sounded, the piercing noise warning of danger mere seconds before the door behind them finally burst open. “What the hell happened?” O’Neill demanded, followed into the room by Teal’c.
“Help me stop the bleeding!” Sam snapped, not taking his eyes off his brother.
The Colonel dropped to his knees on the other side of Dean. “Get Dr. Fraiser,” he ordered and the Jaffa nodded once, disappearing out of the room.
Dean reached out a hand, trying to grip his brother’s arm to assure him that he wasn’t going anywhere; blood slicked his fingers, making it impossible to keep hold. “Looks worse than it is,” he said with a forced smile.
“You’re not the one looking at it,” Sam countered, voice tight as he pressed harder on Dean’s left shoulder.
He looked down at himself, trying to gage the extent of the damage but he couldn’t make out anything beyond the crumpled and bloodied blankets Sam was pressing against him. There was pain, of course; it burned indiscriminately across his chest and shoulder spreading up his neck, leaving him feeling lightheaded.
“What’s with all the noise?” Dean asked, turning his head just enough that he could better see the Colonel’s face.
“The base is in lockdown,” O’Neil answered, slowly pulling away the wadded sheet to get a glimpse of the damage.
Sam was already shaking his head. “That’s not going to do you any good.”
“What the hell was that?” the Colonel demanded, intense eyes locking with Dean’s before moving onto Sam’s.
“You need to see to believe?” Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Congratulations,” Dean said, fighting to keep his voice level as he looked the Colonel in the eyes, “You just saw your first demon.”
The Colonel’s expression darkened. “That’s what killed two of my men?”
Dean exchanged a brief look with Sam; at least that explained why no one had answered their calls for help. “Yes,” the younger hunter answered bluntly. “And you’re lockdown isn’t going to trap it.”
“Nothing’s ever that easy…” Dean said, sucking in a sharp breath. “You think we pissed it off the other night?” he asked his brother, wincing as he tried to shift position.
“Just hold still,” Sam ordered, worry making his voice tight.
Dean bit down on the inside of his lip to keep himself from crying out in pain as O’Neill pressed his makeshift bandage tighter against Dean’s chest. He listened over the drumming of his own heart, hearing the sound of boots pounding down the hall seconds before a flood of people in white coats rush into the room.
“Colonel,” Dr. Fraiser exclaimed, dropping to her knees as Jack’s side. “Let me take a look,” she bade gently, gloved hands already reaching for the material in O’Neill’s bloodied hands.
“I need you to keep breathing,” the doctor instructed, her attention dashing from the wound to Dean’s face and back again. “Nice and easy,” she encouraged.
“I didn’t stop,” he contended, voice rough.
Sam’s hand on his shoulder was a grounding presence through the burning pain. “You were holding your breath,” his brother pointed out, lips twitching up into a tight smile.
“Bring in a gurney,” Dr. Fraiser ordered sharply. She shifted to check Dean’s shoulder, now speaking softly as though to herself. “Multiple lacerations and you’ve lost a fair amount of blood. And what is that smell?”
“Sulfur,” Dean said through grit teeth, feeling the raw skin on his shoulder pull sharply his blood already having begun to clot with the ruined sheet.
“Just relax,” she said as a gurney was wheeled into the room and promptly lowered, “I’ll have you patched up in no time.”
Dean gripped Sam’s forearm with his right hand. “Do you think it’ll attack again?” He knew Sam wouldn’t be able to say for sure.
“We haven’t even been able to establish how it’s choosing its victims,” Sam replied, tone frustrated as he helped Dean onto the gurney.
“Well start with that,” he said, fighting to keep Sam in his sight when other medical personal began to crowd in around him. “We must have missed something.”
Sam moved to follow after his brother but Jack’s hand on his shoulder brought him to an immediate halt. He shrugged away from the unwanted touch, turning to face the Colonel. “I need to go with him, he’s not safe.”
“Your brother will be fine, the halls are crawling with soldiers right now,” O’Neill returned, nodding towards the door where Teal’c was patiently standing.
“These soldiers can’t fight a demon,” Sam said, drawing in a breath in an attempt to calm his racing heart; adrenaline from the attack still coursing through his veins.
Jack took a step forward. “Why not?” he asked simply, though his tone was anything but.
Sam released a frustrated breath. “You might as well flick rubber bands at it, bullets can’t hurt it.”
“But this can?” Jack returned skeptically, drawing Dean’s makeshift knife from his pocket.
The hunter blinked in surprise; he had been too occupied with Dean to notice O’Neill pick up the weapon. He pointed at it, brown eyes taking note of the blood slowly drying on his hands and Jack’s. It made his stomach lurch and he shut his eyes for a brief moment before meeting the Colonel’s. “That’s wrought iron.”
“Clever design, hiding it in the belt,” O’Neill commented, flashing the weapon towards the Jaffa. “Don’t you agree?”
Teal’c nodded once. “Indeed.”
“So why does iron work?” he asked, attention quickly fixing back on Sam.
Sam moved to pull a frustrated hand through his hair before the sight of Dean’s blood stopped him. “It works for the same reason graveyards are often fenced in with iron and people used to hang a horseshoe on their doors to keep out evil spirits.”
“And that reason would be?”
“Alright,” Sam sighed, forcing his thoughts to a line in the clearest rout. “Spirits manifest using electromagnetic energy, that’s why we can use EMF to detect them,” he explained, not caring for the looks Jack was shooting towards Teal’c. “Iron is an electrical conductor so if you strike a spirit, ghost, or demon with a grounded piece of iron, it gives the electricity a clear path to ground draining the spirit. At least temporarily.”
Jack tested the edge of the knife, appearing to consider Sam’s words. “I’m not hearing anything in there on how to kill it.”
“I’m not really worried about killing it right now,” Sam growled, eyes darting over to the door, wanting to just push past the silent Jaffa and find Dean. “Just making sure it doesn’t attack Dean again.”
“And you’d do that how?” The sarcastic tone to the Colonel’s voice told Sam he wasn’t happy being the one asking the questions.
---SPN/SG-1---
Dean lay on the hospital bed, a great overhead light glaring down at his exposed chest while he watched Dr. Fraiser prepare the supplies needed to stitch the gashes on his shoulder and chest. Green eyes warily watched as the doctor prepared a syringe, drawing clear liquid from a vial Dean couldn’t quite see.
“What’s that?” he asked, voice rough from the pain.
She offered him a smile, hands still working as she spoke. “I’m going to give you morphine for the pain.” Her gloved index finger flicked the edge of the needle forcing the air out of the tip with a slight spray of the drug.
Dean’s body responded quickly, a surge of adrenaline fighting against the pain. His head reached for the IV line that had been inserted in the back of his right hand not long ago, his thumb clamping securely over the port. “No thanks,” he said through grit teeth.
One of the nursing staff reached across the left side of the bed, taking a firm hold of his wrist in an attempt to lay him back. “You’re clearly in a lot of pain,” Fraiser tried to reason.
“I need to keep a clear head,” he said, eyes searching the edges of the room. There hadn’t been any signs of the demon since the attack, the lights hadn’t even sflickered, but he was still wary and not interested in being doped up and defenseless.
Dr. Fraiser didn’t look the least bit pleased. “Well, I’ll need to give you something.”
He nodded in agreement, not against easing the burning pain even just a little. “You got Tylenol with codeine?” he asked with a hopeful smile.
Janet offered him an understanding smile, dropping a hand briefly on Dean’s shoulder. “Alright, just relax I’ll go get some.”
Dean released a breath and let himself relax back against the stiff sheets, his eyes falling closed for a brief minute. The sound of the door opening brought his attention back but he relaxed immediately when he saw it was Sammy.
“Dean.” His brother looked relieved as he was followed into the room by Jack and Teal’c.
“Hey Sammy, what took you so long?”
Sam tossed a quick look back over his shoulder. “Had to explain a few things first.”
“Like did you know salt is actually a weapon?” O’Neill asked looking towards Dr. Fraiser as he shook a salt shaker despairingly.
“No, I didn’t,” she said with an unsure halfhearted smile as she stepped back over to Dean’s side with another syringe in hand. She inserted it quickly into the IV port and injected the clear liquid.
The younger Winchester rolled his eyes as O’Neill’s sarcasm but didn’t rise to the bait. “Is he going to be alright?” Sam asked, intense gaze honing in on the doctor.
Janet offered Sam a true smile. “We got the bleeding under control and now just need some stitches. He should be just fine.”
“Good,” Sam breathed an obvious sigh of relief before his brown eyes found Dean’s. “I don’t think the demon’s here anymore, but just to be safe…”
“You’ll make a salt line,” Dean nodded in understanding, feeling the pain in his chest and shoulder lessen a little as Janet leaned over him, checking beneath the gauze.
“You’re actually serious, Colonel?” she asked in surprise, looking down the length of the bed.
Dean followed her line of sight, seeing Sam kneel in the doorway. “I’m not,” Jack said suddenly, “but he is. Kid seems to know what he’s talking about.”
The Colonel didn’t sound all that pleased but Dean was at least relieved to see he was listening to Sam. “He’d better,” Dean agreed, “he was trained by the best.” His eyes passed over O’Neill, moving onto Teal’c. The Jaffa at least looked curious about what Sammy was doing.
Dr. Fraiser drew his attention back with a hand on his shoulder. There was an assistant standing on the opposite side of the bed, a small table draped in a blue cloth within easy reach. “Ready to get this over with?” she asked, pointing the tip of a small syringe down towards the gashes on his chest.
He nodded once, focusing his eyes on the pipe lined ceiling.
---SPN/SG-1---
Samantha Carter came to a stop just inside Daniel’s office, for a moment stunned by the array of weapons, relics, and things she didn’t even have a name for laid out on his tables. “What’s all this?” she asked, drawing the archeologist attention from the battered journal he appeared to be referencing as he studied a talisman.
“Oh,” he said, looking up in surprise. “This is the contents of a hidden compartment in the Winchester’s car.”
“Impressive.” She stepped up to the table and picked up a double barrel sawed off shotgun.
“Mhmm,” he agreed absently, putting the talisman aside in favor of a knife that looked like it had been etched with a pentagram.
“Do you know what any of this is for?” she asked, picking up one of the loose shotgun rounds. It was far lighter than it should have been and holding it up to the light she couldn’t see a shot inside.
“Well, according to this journal,” Daniel began, adjusting his glasses as he looked up at her, “these are weapons and means of protection for various supernatural creatures. Those,” he said pointed to the shotgun shell, “are rock salt rounds.”
“Rock salt?” Sam repeated dubiously. “Doesn’t sound very deadly.”
“Well, it isn’t, not to humans at least. Some police forces actually use it in riot situations to disperse crowds,” Daniel explained rather excitedly. “In this case, salt is used as a symbol of purity against the evil. It seems like it works against many forms of ‘evil,’ probably because for thousands of year’s salt was used as a purifying agent, something to preserve the food, and such.” He continued looking back down at the journal.
Sam opened a box as she listened, finding the inside to be lined with what looked like silver bullets.
“Turns out salt isn’t only used as a weapon but for defense too. Making a ring of salt or lining the entrances to the room makes it impossible for a spirit to cross over.”
“Does it say why?” she asked, tipping a clear bottle so the light caught on the strange pattern. She realized it was a hollow statue of the Virgin Mary.
“I did some research,” he confirmed. “There’s some old lore that states a demon cannot cross the line without counting each grain of salt and since that’s an impossible task…” he trailed off, folding his arms across his chest.
She took a step back, sweeping her eyes over everything again. “Well, this is certainly an impressive collection to have if what they’re hunting isn’t real.”
“Did you see the video feed from their cell?” the archeologist asked, stepping over to one of his computer monitors.
Samantha followed, watching the image jump and sputter before the black shadow appeared. “Does kind of make it hard to deny, doesn’t it?”
He nodded once. “Where are you on tracking down their accomplice?” he asked suddenly.
“No closer,” she admitted with a sigh. “Dean’s cell phone records show several calls from a phone listed under the name Ash but, no surprise, the name and the cell are both dead ends. Whoever he is, he’s good.”
“Do you think they’re telling the truth about the information?”
Sam rubbed a hand across the back of her neck. “I hope so.”
Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed!
Go to: Six | Eight
I'm dedicating this chapter to missrose54 you rock my world!
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six
Title: The Same Coin
Shows: Supernatural/Stargate SG-1
Author: yacoba
Beta: i_paint_the_sky
Word Count: 3 182
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-
The picture on screen sputtered and jumped, blurring out before returning to sharp focus. Static crackled over the speakers but Jack could still make out what Sam and Dean were saying.
“What are the chances they haven’t paid their electrical bill?” Dean’s sarcasm. As irritating as it could be, Jack found he could appreciate on some level, though it made getting a read on the kid difficult.
“Is it the demon?” Sam asked warily.
Jack rolled his eyes. He’d seen much in his life, far more than the average man but he hadn’t witnessed anything concerning the ‘afterlife’ that couldn’t be explained away. For Charlie’s sake he secretly hoped it was better than here but that didn’t change the fact that Jack preferred to deal with hard evidence. There was no use denying what was right in front of you.
Peering at the screen, Jack could see the Winchesters were staring intently at the back wall of their room, like they were expecting something to happen.
“I’d have to say yes,” Dean muttered as he moved to put himself in front of his brother.
Sam’s urgent words came through the static loud and clear, “We have to get out of here.”
-What is this? Some sort of escape attempt?- Jack wondered silently. As cautious as he was, he hadn’t honestly expected they’d try anything. The Winchesters both seemed to understand the gravity of their situation, even if they were refusing to take it seriously.
“Try pounding on the door,” Dean said as the lights in their room went out again and the recording image jumped violently.
When the image settled again, Jack could see a darkly shadowed creature that hadn’t been there just seconds before. “Teal’c,” O’Neill called sharply.
“What is it, O’Neill?” the large Jaffa asked solemnly, coming to stand behind the Colonel.
“You ever see anything like that?” he asked, pointing at the screen.
Teal’c leaned a little closer to the monitor one eyebrow raised, “I have not.”
“Dean!” Sam’s voice was panicked.
“We need weapons,” he said, heading from the room, quickly making his way towards the secondary armory.
---SPN/SG-1---
“Dean!”
“Stay back!” he barked, hearing Sam pound on the metal door.
Not taking his eyes off the demon, Dean reached for his belt buckle, knowing full well the iron knife he’d welded to it would do little to stop the creature’s advances. The blackness appeared to ripple a second before it lunged for Dean’s throat. Jumping back, Dean stuck the creature’s arm with the tip of his knife, still a little surprised it actually connected with something solid.
“Open the fucking door!” Sam shouted urgently, but Dean barely heard him over the demon’s shrieks of rage.
Glancing down at the knife protruding from between his index and middle finger, Dean realized he’d only succeeded in making the demon madder. It lashed out at him faster than his eye could follow; pain erupted across Dean’s left shoulder as he fell back from the force of the blow.
“Dean!” he heard Sam shout again.
The demon was on top of the hunter before his blood had even begun to flow freely down his arm. Dean stabbed with the knife, trying but failing to bite down on a cry of pain as the creature dug into his chest.
“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, et secta diabolica,” Sam’s voice rose up over the roar in Dean’s ears, the Latin flowing from his tongue with practiced ease. “Ergo draco maledicte et section.”
-That’s not going to work Sam- Dean vaguely thought as he fought to remain conscious, the iron knife falling from numb fingers as his vision blurred.
“Ergo draco maledicte et legio secta diabolica.”
The demon shrieked in pain, pulling back sharply, the scent of blood and sulfur overwhelming the air.
“Ut Ecclésiam tuam secúra tibi fácias servire libertáte, te rogámus, audi nos!”
“Dean!” Sam was at his side, hands pressing against his shoulder and chest before the older Winchester’s mind even had a chance to realize the demon had vanished. “Hang on!”
Looking up at his brother, Dean felt his lips twist in a painful smirk, “I can’t believe that worked.”
Sam reached behind his brother, tearing the blanket from the bottom bunk, “Not a permanent fix, unfortunately.” Sam swallowed hard as he tired to staunch the flow of blood with the balled up sheets. Glancing over his shoulder, he still couldn’t believe no one had answered his calls for help.
“Still…” Dean said, drawing in a shallow breath, “Good thinking.”
“Same to you, how long have you had that?” he asked, jutting his chin towards the small knife, in an attempt to keep Dean alert and talking.
Dean smirked again, his face pale in the yellow light. “Since Milwaukee, not the first place they look for a weapon.”
An alarm sounded, the piercing noise warning of danger mere seconds before the door behind them finally burst open. “What the hell happened?” O’Neill demanded, followed into the room by Teal’c.
“Help me stop the bleeding!” Sam snapped, not taking his eyes off his brother.
The Colonel dropped to his knees on the other side of Dean. “Get Dr. Fraiser,” he ordered and the Jaffa nodded once, disappearing out of the room.
Dean reached out a hand, trying to grip his brother’s arm to assure him that he wasn’t going anywhere; blood slicked his fingers, making it impossible to keep hold. “Looks worse than it is,” he said with a forced smile.
“You’re not the one looking at it,” Sam countered, voice tight as he pressed harder on Dean’s left shoulder.
He looked down at himself, trying to gage the extent of the damage but he couldn’t make out anything beyond the crumpled and bloodied blankets Sam was pressing against him. There was pain, of course; it burned indiscriminately across his chest and shoulder spreading up his neck, leaving him feeling lightheaded.
“What’s with all the noise?” Dean asked, turning his head just enough that he could better see the Colonel’s face.
“The base is in lockdown,” O’Neil answered, slowly pulling away the wadded sheet to get a glimpse of the damage.
Sam was already shaking his head. “That’s not going to do you any good.”
“What the hell was that?” the Colonel demanded, intense eyes locking with Dean’s before moving onto Sam’s.
“You need to see to believe?” Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Congratulations,” Dean said, fighting to keep his voice level as he looked the Colonel in the eyes, “You just saw your first demon.”
The Colonel’s expression darkened. “That’s what killed two of my men?”
Dean exchanged a brief look with Sam; at least that explained why no one had answered their calls for help. “Yes,” the younger hunter answered bluntly. “And you’re lockdown isn’t going to trap it.”
“Nothing’s ever that easy…” Dean said, sucking in a sharp breath. “You think we pissed it off the other night?” he asked his brother, wincing as he tried to shift position.
“Just hold still,” Sam ordered, worry making his voice tight.
Dean bit down on the inside of his lip to keep himself from crying out in pain as O’Neill pressed his makeshift bandage tighter against Dean’s chest. He listened over the drumming of his own heart, hearing the sound of boots pounding down the hall seconds before a flood of people in white coats rush into the room.
“Colonel,” Dr. Fraiser exclaimed, dropping to her knees as Jack’s side. “Let me take a look,” she bade gently, gloved hands already reaching for the material in O’Neill’s bloodied hands.
“I need you to keep breathing,” the doctor instructed, her attention dashing from the wound to Dean’s face and back again. “Nice and easy,” she encouraged.
“I didn’t stop,” he contended, voice rough.
Sam’s hand on his shoulder was a grounding presence through the burning pain. “You were holding your breath,” his brother pointed out, lips twitching up into a tight smile.
“Bring in a gurney,” Dr. Fraiser ordered sharply. She shifted to check Dean’s shoulder, now speaking softly as though to herself. “Multiple lacerations and you’ve lost a fair amount of blood. And what is that smell?”
“Sulfur,” Dean said through grit teeth, feeling the raw skin on his shoulder pull sharply his blood already having begun to clot with the ruined sheet.
“Just relax,” she said as a gurney was wheeled into the room and promptly lowered, “I’ll have you patched up in no time.”
Dean gripped Sam’s forearm with his right hand. “Do you think it’ll attack again?” He knew Sam wouldn’t be able to say for sure.
“We haven’t even been able to establish how it’s choosing its victims,” Sam replied, tone frustrated as he helped Dean onto the gurney.
“Well start with that,” he said, fighting to keep Sam in his sight when other medical personal began to crowd in around him. “We must have missed something.”
Sam moved to follow after his brother but Jack’s hand on his shoulder brought him to an immediate halt. He shrugged away from the unwanted touch, turning to face the Colonel. “I need to go with him, he’s not safe.”
“Your brother will be fine, the halls are crawling with soldiers right now,” O’Neill returned, nodding towards the door where Teal’c was patiently standing.
“These soldiers can’t fight a demon,” Sam said, drawing in a breath in an attempt to calm his racing heart; adrenaline from the attack still coursing through his veins.
Jack took a step forward. “Why not?” he asked simply, though his tone was anything but.
Sam released a frustrated breath. “You might as well flick rubber bands at it, bullets can’t hurt it.”
“But this can?” Jack returned skeptically, drawing Dean’s makeshift knife from his pocket.
The hunter blinked in surprise; he had been too occupied with Dean to notice O’Neill pick up the weapon. He pointed at it, brown eyes taking note of the blood slowly drying on his hands and Jack’s. It made his stomach lurch and he shut his eyes for a brief moment before meeting the Colonel’s. “That’s wrought iron.”
“Clever design, hiding it in the belt,” O’Neill commented, flashing the weapon towards the Jaffa. “Don’t you agree?”
Teal’c nodded once. “Indeed.”
“So why does iron work?” he asked, attention quickly fixing back on Sam.
Sam moved to pull a frustrated hand through his hair before the sight of Dean’s blood stopped him. “It works for the same reason graveyards are often fenced in with iron and people used to hang a horseshoe on their doors to keep out evil spirits.”
“And that reason would be?”
“Alright,” Sam sighed, forcing his thoughts to a line in the clearest rout. “Spirits manifest using electromagnetic energy, that’s why we can use EMF to detect them,” he explained, not caring for the looks Jack was shooting towards Teal’c. “Iron is an electrical conductor so if you strike a spirit, ghost, or demon with a grounded piece of iron, it gives the electricity a clear path to ground draining the spirit. At least temporarily.”
Jack tested the edge of the knife, appearing to consider Sam’s words. “I’m not hearing anything in there on how to kill it.”
“I’m not really worried about killing it right now,” Sam growled, eyes darting over to the door, wanting to just push past the silent Jaffa and find Dean. “Just making sure it doesn’t attack Dean again.”
“And you’d do that how?” The sarcastic tone to the Colonel’s voice told Sam he wasn’t happy being the one asking the questions.
---SPN/SG-1---
Dean lay on the hospital bed, a great overhead light glaring down at his exposed chest while he watched Dr. Fraiser prepare the supplies needed to stitch the gashes on his shoulder and chest. Green eyes warily watched as the doctor prepared a syringe, drawing clear liquid from a vial Dean couldn’t quite see.
“What’s that?” he asked, voice rough from the pain.
She offered him a smile, hands still working as she spoke. “I’m going to give you morphine for the pain.” Her gloved index finger flicked the edge of the needle forcing the air out of the tip with a slight spray of the drug.
Dean’s body responded quickly, a surge of adrenaline fighting against the pain. His head reached for the IV line that had been inserted in the back of his right hand not long ago, his thumb clamping securely over the port. “No thanks,” he said through grit teeth.
One of the nursing staff reached across the left side of the bed, taking a firm hold of his wrist in an attempt to lay him back. “You’re clearly in a lot of pain,” Fraiser tried to reason.
“I need to keep a clear head,” he said, eyes searching the edges of the room. There hadn’t been any signs of the demon since the attack, the lights hadn’t even sflickered, but he was still wary and not interested in being doped up and defenseless.
Dr. Fraiser didn’t look the least bit pleased. “Well, I’ll need to give you something.”
He nodded in agreement, not against easing the burning pain even just a little. “You got Tylenol with codeine?” he asked with a hopeful smile.
Janet offered him an understanding smile, dropping a hand briefly on Dean’s shoulder. “Alright, just relax I’ll go get some.”
Dean released a breath and let himself relax back against the stiff sheets, his eyes falling closed for a brief minute. The sound of the door opening brought his attention back but he relaxed immediately when he saw it was Sammy.
“Dean.” His brother looked relieved as he was followed into the room by Jack and Teal’c.
“Hey Sammy, what took you so long?”
Sam tossed a quick look back over his shoulder. “Had to explain a few things first.”
“Like did you know salt is actually a weapon?” O’Neill asked looking towards Dr. Fraiser as he shook a salt shaker despairingly.
“No, I didn’t,” she said with an unsure halfhearted smile as she stepped back over to Dean’s side with another syringe in hand. She inserted it quickly into the IV port and injected the clear liquid.
The younger Winchester rolled his eyes as O’Neill’s sarcasm but didn’t rise to the bait. “Is he going to be alright?” Sam asked, intense gaze honing in on the doctor.
Janet offered Sam a true smile. “We got the bleeding under control and now just need some stitches. He should be just fine.”
“Good,” Sam breathed an obvious sigh of relief before his brown eyes found Dean’s. “I don’t think the demon’s here anymore, but just to be safe…”
“You’ll make a salt line,” Dean nodded in understanding, feeling the pain in his chest and shoulder lessen a little as Janet leaned over him, checking beneath the gauze.
“You’re actually serious, Colonel?” she asked in surprise, looking down the length of the bed.
Dean followed her line of sight, seeing Sam kneel in the doorway. “I’m not,” Jack said suddenly, “but he is. Kid seems to know what he’s talking about.”
The Colonel didn’t sound all that pleased but Dean was at least relieved to see he was listening to Sam. “He’d better,” Dean agreed, “he was trained by the best.” His eyes passed over O’Neill, moving onto Teal’c. The Jaffa at least looked curious about what Sammy was doing.
Dr. Fraiser drew his attention back with a hand on his shoulder. There was an assistant standing on the opposite side of the bed, a small table draped in a blue cloth within easy reach. “Ready to get this over with?” she asked, pointing the tip of a small syringe down towards the gashes on his chest.
He nodded once, focusing his eyes on the pipe lined ceiling.
---SPN/SG-1---
Samantha Carter came to a stop just inside Daniel’s office, for a moment stunned by the array of weapons, relics, and things she didn’t even have a name for laid out on his tables. “What’s all this?” she asked, drawing the archeologist attention from the battered journal he appeared to be referencing as he studied a talisman.
“Oh,” he said, looking up in surprise. “This is the contents of a hidden compartment in the Winchester’s car.”
“Impressive.” She stepped up to the table and picked up a double barrel sawed off shotgun.
“Mhmm,” he agreed absently, putting the talisman aside in favor of a knife that looked like it had been etched with a pentagram.
“Do you know what any of this is for?” she asked, picking up one of the loose shotgun rounds. It was far lighter than it should have been and holding it up to the light she couldn’t see a shot inside.
“Well, according to this journal,” Daniel began, adjusting his glasses as he looked up at her, “these are weapons and means of protection for various supernatural creatures. Those,” he said pointed to the shotgun shell, “are rock salt rounds.”
“Rock salt?” Sam repeated dubiously. “Doesn’t sound very deadly.”
“Well, it isn’t, not to humans at least. Some police forces actually use it in riot situations to disperse crowds,” Daniel explained rather excitedly. “In this case, salt is used as a symbol of purity against the evil. It seems like it works against many forms of ‘evil,’ probably because for thousands of year’s salt was used as a purifying agent, something to preserve the food, and such.” He continued looking back down at the journal.
Sam opened a box as she listened, finding the inside to be lined with what looked like silver bullets.
“Turns out salt isn’t only used as a weapon but for defense too. Making a ring of salt or lining the entrances to the room makes it impossible for a spirit to cross over.”
“Does it say why?” she asked, tipping a clear bottle so the light caught on the strange pattern. She realized it was a hollow statue of the Virgin Mary.
“I did some research,” he confirmed. “There’s some old lore that states a demon cannot cross the line without counting each grain of salt and since that’s an impossible task…” he trailed off, folding his arms across his chest.
She took a step back, sweeping her eyes over everything again. “Well, this is certainly an impressive collection to have if what they’re hunting isn’t real.”
“Did you see the video feed from their cell?” the archeologist asked, stepping over to one of his computer monitors.
Samantha followed, watching the image jump and sputter before the black shadow appeared. “Does kind of make it hard to deny, doesn’t it?”
He nodded once. “Where are you on tracking down their accomplice?” he asked suddenly.
“No closer,” she admitted with a sigh. “Dean’s cell phone records show several calls from a phone listed under the name Ash but, no surprise, the name and the cell are both dead ends. Whoever he is, he’s good.”
“Do you think they’re telling the truth about the information?”
Sam rubbed a hand across the back of her neck. “I hope so.”
Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed!
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