Fic: Make All the Rain Explode - SPN/SG1
Title: Make All the Rain Explode
Fandom: Supernatural/Stargate SG-1
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: none
Spoilers: Fragile Balance for SG-1, none for SPN
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, more's the pity.
Summary: Sam is taken to be the host for a goddess.
The moment Sam returned to consciousness he knew that something was very wrong. He could feel his pulse pounding at his temples, curtesy of a blow to the back of the head, and even without opening his eyes he could tell that he was tied down, secured to some sort of stone table or altar at both his ankles and wrists. The rope around his wrists was tightly tied and his arms were spread wide enough that he couldn't get any leverage at all.
The stone was rough and cold against the skin of his face and bare chest, and the lack of his shirt and his position face-down on what with his luck was definitely an altar left Sam feeling very vulnerable. And worst of all, he didn't know if Dean had any idea where he was.
It was only when he heard the voices that he realized that he wasn't alone. There were at least two other people in the room with him, and he flinched when he felt a possessive hand stroke down the length of his spine.
"You will make an exquisite host for the goddess. She will be most pleased with you."
Another hand dropped to rest against the small of his back. "Yes, this one is simply perfect. She will enjoy bending his talents to her own use." The second voice was decidedly feminine, with a soft lilt that would have been attractive in other circumstances.
Sam tried to fight back a wave of panic when he realized just what his kidnappers were implying. Not only did they somehow know about his abilities, and he really didn't want to consider just how they knew, but they were also planning on giving him to what was probably some sort of demon to be used as a host.
"It is truly a shame that we could not find such a talented host that was also female for her, but she will find the novelty of a male host most intriguing." The woman stroked up his back to rest her hand in his hair and began petting him, ignoring his shudders of disgust and seemingly not caring at all that he was conscious. "And the host for her consort is also quite amazing, if somewhat young."
If not for the comment about the other host being young Sam would have thought that they were talking about Dean. The fact that they weren't was a good sign, since it meant that Dean was still out there somewhere, more than likely frantically looking for him. Sam adamantly refused to consider any other option.
Sam could hear the man walking slowly around him, his incredibly intense gaze sending cold shivers down Sam's spine. "The true shame is that the goddess and her consort cannot use these hosts to procreate. A host with the gifts of both would be truly remarkable."
That really didn't sound good and Sam shifted on the altar, trying and failing to find any slack at all in his bindings. He was well and truly trapped, with no way that he could see to get himself free.
"Oh, fuck."
The words were hissed quietly, and Sam was only barely able to hear them coming from somewhere to his left. He managed to turn his head, and came face to face with the young man who was obviously meant to be the other host. He looked to be about eighteen, with brown eyes that were wide with a mixture of terror and fury. He was also in the exact same position as Sam: tied down to a stone altar wearing only a pair of pants.
Suddenly the brown eyes went even wider as the boy started to hyperventilate. And before Sam could even start to wonder just what had made him even more terrified, something long and slimy was placed on his back and started wriggling.
Sam had absolutely no clue just what the thing was, but it filled him with an icy terror nonetheless. He tried to thrash, ignoring the way the ropes cut into his wrists, but he was tied down so tightly that he couldn't manage to fling the thing off. And then it was too late.
The thing had reached the back of his neck and before Sam could even think of trying to shake it off it opened its mouth and a set of very small, very sharp teeth bit into the skin of his neck. Then it was burrowing inside him.
The pain was overpowering as the snake thing invaded Sam's body, and he was only distantly aware of the fact that he was screaming. Another scream soon joined his, and with the small part of his mind not focused solely on the pain Sam guessed that another snake thing was burrowing inside his fellow captive.
After a long moment the pain shifted. Instead of the agony caused by the snake thing chewing its way through the back of his neck, Sam could feel an increasingly painful pressure as whatever it was tried to take control of his body. Then the pressure coalesced into a sharp spear that the snake thing used to violently shove its way into Sam's mind.
Sam could no longer even feel his own body as he writhed on the altar, all of his attention and energy focused on trying to keep the demon from violating his mind, trying to keep it from rifling though everything that made Sam who he was. A battle that he was slowly losing.
He was pulled back to an awareness of his body when someone began hurriedly untying his right hand. He just barely managed to open one eye and almost immediately recognized the jacket in front of his nose as Dean's. Dean was trying to free him, which meant that Dean didn't know that the snake demon was already inside him.
With the very last bit of his strength Sam forced himself to speak, to warn Dean. And just as the third word passed his lips, the demon pushed past his final defenses and took control.
"It's in me."
Sam was screaming, even though he knew it was only in his head. Thousands of years worth of blood and violence and pure self-serving evil was seemingly poured into his head, everything that the snake demon had ever done flashing behind his eyes as though it had been Sam doing them. And Sam was completely unable to look away, no matter how desperately he wanted to.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, Sam started to hear something in the background, as if it was coming from very far away. And when he felt the snake demon flinch at the sound, he strained his ears in an attempt to figure out just what the sound was. It took a level of concentration that he wasn't sure that he could manage at the moment, but after a great deal of effort he could finally identify the sound.
It was Dean, reciting a Latin exorcism in a voice that was tight with fear but still never faltered, not even for an instant.
The longer Dean continued the more Sam could feel the snake fighting, raging at Dean with Sam's mouth in a futile attempt to make Dean stop. And it seemed like Dean could tell somehow, because his voice slowly grew stronger and the fear began to leech out of it. Sam wanted to smile, wanted to tell Dean to keep going but he settled for pushing at the snake demon with his mind, trying to force it out.
And eventually the snake demon began to scream in his head, its death throes sending Sam into convulsions so violent that only the fact that he was still partially tied to the altar kept him from flinging himself to the floor. Then as suddenly as they started the convulsions stopped, leaving Sam exhausted and sore but blessedly free of the almost slimy presence in his mind.
For a long time he just let himself lay still on the cool stone and breathe, lips curling up in a small, tired smile when he felt Dean's fingers in his hair.
"You okay there, Sammy? That whatever the hell it was gone now?"
Sam didn't even bother trying to nod. "Yeah, it's dead." He grimaced at the sound of his own voice, raspy and broken as if he had been swallowing shards of glass. "What about...?"
"Your buddy over there on the other altar?" Dean's fingers kept moving absently through Sam's sweat-soaked hair as if he needed the physical connection to prove that Sam was actually still there. "He's breathing, and it looks like the exorcism worked on him, too."
"It did."
The voice was hoarse and sounded as rough as Sam's voice had, threaded through with equal parts pain and relief.
Sam felt Dean pat him gently on the back of the head before he moved down and began untying Sam's feet while talking to the boy. "You got a name, kid?"
There was a rusty and painful-sounding chuckle before the boy finally answered. "Jack."
Next Part
Fandom: Supernatural/Stargate SG-1
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: none
Spoilers: Fragile Balance for SG-1, none for SPN
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, more's the pity.
Summary: Sam is taken to be the host for a goddess.
The moment Sam returned to consciousness he knew that something was very wrong. He could feel his pulse pounding at his temples, curtesy of a blow to the back of the head, and even without opening his eyes he could tell that he was tied down, secured to some sort of stone table or altar at both his ankles and wrists. The rope around his wrists was tightly tied and his arms were spread wide enough that he couldn't get any leverage at all.
The stone was rough and cold against the skin of his face and bare chest, and the lack of his shirt and his position face-down on what with his luck was definitely an altar left Sam feeling very vulnerable. And worst of all, he didn't know if Dean had any idea where he was.
It was only when he heard the voices that he realized that he wasn't alone. There were at least two other people in the room with him, and he flinched when he felt a possessive hand stroke down the length of his spine.
"You will make an exquisite host for the goddess. She will be most pleased with you."
Another hand dropped to rest against the small of his back. "Yes, this one is simply perfect. She will enjoy bending his talents to her own use." The second voice was decidedly feminine, with a soft lilt that would have been attractive in other circumstances.
Sam tried to fight back a wave of panic when he realized just what his kidnappers were implying. Not only did they somehow know about his abilities, and he really didn't want to consider just how they knew, but they were also planning on giving him to what was probably some sort of demon to be used as a host.
"It is truly a shame that we could not find such a talented host that was also female for her, but she will find the novelty of a male host most intriguing." The woman stroked up his back to rest her hand in his hair and began petting him, ignoring his shudders of disgust and seemingly not caring at all that he was conscious. "And the host for her consort is also quite amazing, if somewhat young."
If not for the comment about the other host being young Sam would have thought that they were talking about Dean. The fact that they weren't was a good sign, since it meant that Dean was still out there somewhere, more than likely frantically looking for him. Sam adamantly refused to consider any other option.
Sam could hear the man walking slowly around him, his incredibly intense gaze sending cold shivers down Sam's spine. "The true shame is that the goddess and her consort cannot use these hosts to procreate. A host with the gifts of both would be truly remarkable."
That really didn't sound good and Sam shifted on the altar, trying and failing to find any slack at all in his bindings. He was well and truly trapped, with no way that he could see to get himself free.
"Oh, fuck."
The words were hissed quietly, and Sam was only barely able to hear them coming from somewhere to his left. He managed to turn his head, and came face to face with the young man who was obviously meant to be the other host. He looked to be about eighteen, with brown eyes that were wide with a mixture of terror and fury. He was also in the exact same position as Sam: tied down to a stone altar wearing only a pair of pants.
Suddenly the brown eyes went even wider as the boy started to hyperventilate. And before Sam could even start to wonder just what had made him even more terrified, something long and slimy was placed on his back and started wriggling.
Sam had absolutely no clue just what the thing was, but it filled him with an icy terror nonetheless. He tried to thrash, ignoring the way the ropes cut into his wrists, but he was tied down so tightly that he couldn't manage to fling the thing off. And then it was too late.
The thing had reached the back of his neck and before Sam could even think of trying to shake it off it opened its mouth and a set of very small, very sharp teeth bit into the skin of his neck. Then it was burrowing inside him.
The pain was overpowering as the snake thing invaded Sam's body, and he was only distantly aware of the fact that he was screaming. Another scream soon joined his, and with the small part of his mind not focused solely on the pain Sam guessed that another snake thing was burrowing inside his fellow captive.
After a long moment the pain shifted. Instead of the agony caused by the snake thing chewing its way through the back of his neck, Sam could feel an increasingly painful pressure as whatever it was tried to take control of his body. Then the pressure coalesced into a sharp spear that the snake thing used to violently shove its way into Sam's mind.
Sam could no longer even feel his own body as he writhed on the altar, all of his attention and energy focused on trying to keep the demon from violating his mind, trying to keep it from rifling though everything that made Sam who he was. A battle that he was slowly losing.
He was pulled back to an awareness of his body when someone began hurriedly untying his right hand. He just barely managed to open one eye and almost immediately recognized the jacket in front of his nose as Dean's. Dean was trying to free him, which meant that Dean didn't know that the snake demon was already inside him.
With the very last bit of his strength Sam forced himself to speak, to warn Dean. And just as the third word passed his lips, the demon pushed past his final defenses and took control.
"It's in me."
Sam was screaming, even though he knew it was only in his head. Thousands of years worth of blood and violence and pure self-serving evil was seemingly poured into his head, everything that the snake demon had ever done flashing behind his eyes as though it had been Sam doing them. And Sam was completely unable to look away, no matter how desperately he wanted to.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, Sam started to hear something in the background, as if it was coming from very far away. And when he felt the snake demon flinch at the sound, he strained his ears in an attempt to figure out just what the sound was. It took a level of concentration that he wasn't sure that he could manage at the moment, but after a great deal of effort he could finally identify the sound.
It was Dean, reciting a Latin exorcism in a voice that was tight with fear but still never faltered, not even for an instant.
The longer Dean continued the more Sam could feel the snake fighting, raging at Dean with Sam's mouth in a futile attempt to make Dean stop. And it seemed like Dean could tell somehow, because his voice slowly grew stronger and the fear began to leech out of it. Sam wanted to smile, wanted to tell Dean to keep going but he settled for pushing at the snake demon with his mind, trying to force it out.
And eventually the snake demon began to scream in his head, its death throes sending Sam into convulsions so violent that only the fact that he was still partially tied to the altar kept him from flinging himself to the floor. Then as suddenly as they started the convulsions stopped, leaving Sam exhausted and sore but blessedly free of the almost slimy presence in his mind.
For a long time he just let himself lay still on the cool stone and breathe, lips curling up in a small, tired smile when he felt Dean's fingers in his hair.
"You okay there, Sammy? That whatever the hell it was gone now?"
Sam didn't even bother trying to nod. "Yeah, it's dead." He grimaced at the sound of his own voice, raspy and broken as if he had been swallowing shards of glass. "What about...?"
"Your buddy over there on the other altar?" Dean's fingers kept moving absently through Sam's sweat-soaked hair as if he needed the physical connection to prove that Sam was actually still there. "He's breathing, and it looks like the exorcism worked on him, too."
"It did."
The voice was hoarse and sounded as rough as Sam's voice had, threaded through with equal parts pain and relief.
Sam felt Dean pat him gently on the back of the head before he moved down and began untying Sam's feet while talking to the boy. "You got a name, kid?"
There was a rusty and painful-sounding chuckle before the boy finally answered. "Jack."
Next Part