Supply and Demand: Stolen Part 10/10 (SPN/SGA AU Crossover)
Supply and Demand: Stolen Part 10/10 (SPN/SGA AU Crossover)
Author: Tari_Roo
Rating: PG13 (Gen)
Fandom: SPN/SGA
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing. Although if I had my way Sheppard and co would still on screen, Mitchell would have joined Atlantis and Dean and Sam would be shirtless more often.
Summary: SGA/SPN Crossover AU. When an impossibly locked door is keeping the Trust from treasures unknown, they arrange to steal an Empath so that their Kinetics can ‘crack the safe’. Unfortunately for Dean, he’s the unlucky Empath and the safe is in Pegasus.
Spoilers: set post Season 5 of SGA and assumes Atlantis returned to Pegasus, post ep 100 and AU for SPN (all seasons). Specific spoilers for Season 5 of SPN
Prelim A/N: This fic is dedicated to Terry Pratchett. He’s not dead, and hasn’t stopped writing, but as he is suffering from Alzheimer’s, new Discworld stories are in limited supply. I read Unseen Academials whilst writing a lot of this story and I felt a keen love for Nutt.
So, Mr Pratchett. Thank you for Sam Vimes, who I have a crush on. Thank you for Carrot and Angua, who I hope will have puppies soon. Thank you for Luggage, Oook, CMOTD, Argh in many languages, Susan, Cohen and the Silver Horde and I aten’t dead. You have made me laugh out loud so many times with your foot notes alone. Thank you for Rule Number One, all caps dialogue, Spot, Ronnie Soak, NacMacFeegles and Lilacs. Live long and prosper, dude.
Chapter 10 - Epilogue
“Breathe in. Breathe out.”
“Stillness is essential.”
“No humming.”
“Or sighing.”
Dean shifted a little, his butt going numb, well aware of Teyla’s attention even if her eyes were closed. The room was bright and warm, full of sunlight yellows and golden browns. The stained glass window made everything fell very still and peaceful. Bu the room had the rank aftersmell of sweat and it was a bit distracting.
“Dean, please.”
Dean stopped tapping out the opening beats of Puppetmaster and sighed. Sitting crosslegged on a hard floor was not his idea of a good time on the best of days, let alone a one best spent outside.
“You wished to learn control, or rather regain it. I am trying to assist.” Teyla still had not turned around, her back stiff and disapproving, posture perfect and Dean fidgeted. “Well, Sheppard mentioned stick fighting...”
A beat of silence and Teyla sighed, “Carson would not approve and as much as I wouldn’t mind hitting you right now, another time perhaps.”
Dean grinned and tried to settle. The stick fighting thing sounded awesome and while meditating had never really been his thing, if it meant Teyla would be more amiable to teaching him, then he’d meditate his ass off.
Luckily Dean felt Ronon coming, a sharp buzz of controlled aggression and excitement, because the big guy had cat feet and got a kick out of giving you a fright. Without opening his eyes, Dean heard Ronon stop at the door and felt his amusement. “Got a lead on a Trust team. Sheppard’s heading out. You want to come?”
Dean was up so fast his besocked feet slid on the smooth floor a little. “Hell, yes.” Belatedly remembering Teyla, Dean slid to a stop, grabbing hold of Ronon as he did. “Teyla?”
“Go. I am still in need of calm and serenity.”
Smiling a little guiltily, Dean nodded, “Cool. Thanks. Later.” Ronon was staring at his socks, and gave Dean an unimpressed headshake to which Dean shrugged. “It was cold this morning.”
The implied ‘wuss’ was half-hearted as Ronon trotted off, heading towards the broom closet Dean now called his. His wardrobe was black BDUs and borrowed jeans. In fact, almost everything in his room was donated or borrowed, but it was still nice to have a space all his own.
“Meet you at the Gate. Stop by the armoury.”
Pulling on combat pants and a fresh black t-shirt, Dean grabbed his sunglasses and ran off. Sergeant Jones was at the armoury and gave Dean some grief over his choice of sidearm, but Dean insisted on the Colt 911. It wasn’t standard and Jones didn’t like it, but one tac vest, one P90 and one cowboy peashooter later, Dean was set.
“Later, man!”
Atlantis was all shades of blue and green. And with the blue, gray and black of the expedition uniforms, a glimpse of pale beige was eye catching. Legs pumping, not wanting to keep them waiting, Dean turned a corner and caught the flash of pale colour, stopped and turned. A tall, dark haired man in a trenchcoat was standing at the end of the corridor.
Dean blinked, but the man was still there and he instinctively reached out, testing the man’s aura, wondering if he was a ghost. There was a flash of white, blinding light and Dean felt purpose, mission, duty, honour and goodness. Staggering back, a headache sharp behind his eyes, Dean tightened his grip on the P90 but when his vision cleared the man was gone.
Ronon’s voice boomed down the corridor, “Winchester! You coming?”
“Yeah, yeah, keep your dreads on.”
Chalking the moment up to a possible Ancient encounter, weird ghost or alien spy, Dean made a note to mention it to Sheppard later. But right now he had an alien world to explore and that rocked on so many levels, not even weird trenchcoat people could ruin it.
“Winchester!”
“All right!”
Dean ran off.
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Castiel reformed in a small park, startling several pigeons and a homeless man propped up on a bench. Momentarily discombobulated, Castiel waited for the physical world to settle, his long journey through the celestial plane quite tiring. The homeless man flapped at his disturbed newspapers and groused, “Hey, watch it, man!”
Blinking slowly, Castiel looked down, pondered on the appropriate response and said, “Apologies. Man.”
Settled on this plane and the vessel ready, Castiel accessed the celestial plane and dematerialised. Several papers blew off Zachariah’s desk as Castiel reappeared in his office. Zachariah instantly beamed, “Castiel, you’re back. Excellent.”
Turning around, Castiel nodded at Zachariah and replied, “Yes.” Zachariah stood and hurried around from behind his desk. His vessel’s suit was rumpled and ill fitting, but he radiated delight. “And, did you find him?” He looked ragged, tired even, as if he was getting very little sleep, which was incongruous to their natures.
“Yes.”
Zachariah’s smile was blinding as his aura exploded with happiness. “Wonderful. Where is he?”
“Safe.” Castiel stared nonplussed at Zachariah, not returning the smile, disliking the glee emanating from his brother.
The aura’s glow dimmed, slightly and Zachariah grinned, “And where is that exactly?”
Castiel turned to face Zachariah directly, and said firmly, “Dean Winchester is safe, Zachariah. That is all you need to know.”
The change in mood was abrupt and the stream of disapproval and anger sudden. “What?” Castiel did not move as Zachariah closed the distance between them and grabbed the lapels of his coat. “Where is he?” The vessels face was less smooth this close, more wrinkled and worn.
Meeting Zachariah’s anger heavy glare, Castiel paused as he considered his response, “I have been occupied these past years with many things, Zachariah, but this recent search for Dean Winchester has lead me to discover several disturbing facts. You promised to keep him safe. You have not.”
Instantly backing off, smoothing Castiel’s lapels, Zachariah buried his emotions and projected artificial calm, “Now, Castiel. You know the importance of my mission and ...”
Interrupting smoothly Castiel pressed his point, “Your definition of care leaves much to be desired. At present, Dean Winchester is safe and that is all you will ever know.”
A spike of irate fear rattled Zachariah’s projected calm and he snarled, “I was this close to getting him to say yes to Michael! This close.” He held up his hand, finger and thumb an inch apart. Castiel stared at his hand and said, “Our mission is to watch over him, not coerce agreement.”
“We stand on the precipice of the apocalypse and you have just lost our key weapon!” Zachariah threw up his hands, going slightly red in the face. In response the disturbed papers in the room fluttered about and even on this plane, one could glimpse the movement of wings.
Castiel stepped forward and Zachariah took a step back, overwhelmed by the torrent of anger from him. Anger was easy to find and Castiel tried to fight past his rising emotion, not wanting to match anger for anger. Contention between brothers was not conducive. So, as calmly as he could, Castiel said, “Hardly. The first seal is intact and while the demons may have Sam Winchester poised to break the final seal, it is immaterial as the first seal is secure and all the others.”
Shaking his head, wagging his finger at Castiel derisively, Zachariah hissed, “No, the first seal is lost! Out in the wind.”
“Dean Winchester is safe, and out of your hands.”
Genuinely red in the face and losing control, Zachariah glared fiercely and yelled, “Now, you listen, you mindless gormless worm, we need to be ready...”
Unimpressed with the insults, Castiel turned away and overrode him with, “For what? If you were not an Angel dedicated to the Most High, I would think you enjoyed tormenting the man, bringing him to the point of breaking.” As he finished Castiel met Zachariah’s faltering gaze head on, allowing far more of his wrath to show than was perhaps wise.
Zachariah stank of unease, his smile oily, instantly backing off, “I serve a higher purpose...”
A firm, certain shake of the head, just like the human’s did, Castiel snapped, “No. You serve Raphael’s machinations. Michael is agreed on action only if the first seal breaks. There is no righteous man in Hell. Dean Winchester is safe. Why do you persist in pursuing this course?”
Caught off guard, Zachariah flashed intense surprise and suspicion, “No righteous man in Hell? How can you be so sure?” He moved towards his desk, genuinely curious, wings rustling in agitation.
Castiel though remained silent, and stared solemnly at Zachariah, who in turn grinned and pointed again at Castiel like he’d been caught out. “So, your little garrison are the ones behind the attacks on crossroad demons. Interesting play.”
“We serve God’s will.”
Zachariah sat on his desk, arms folded, and snorted, “And how do you know it isn’t God’s will that we start the Apocalypse?”
“Faith.” On this Castiel was certain, unmovable.
Losing it again, displaying far more volatile emotions than a higher being should be subject to, Zachariah snarled, “Ignorant, blind fool! You are risking everything!” He shoved a whole pile of files off his desk, sending the papers flying.
Unmoved, and regaining his own calm, grateful for the knowledge his visit to the far end of Galaxy had given, Castiel mused, “Hardly. The first seal holds, the demons are at an impasse until it breaks and I have ensured Dean Winchester’s safety.”
Zachariah opened his mouth, no doubt to launch into yet another tirade but there was a knock on the door, and an urgent, “Agent Andrews, it’s an emergency.”
Zachariah turned to snarl at the door, face scarlet, hair wild and Castiel took the opportunity to leave, and dematerialised. Snarling in double anger now, Zachariah threw the door open and snapped, “What?” The man on the otherside paled visibly and stepped back. Stammering, he gulped, “Ah, three Kinetics downstairs, sir. They’re threatening to tear the room apart if their session is postponed again.”
Radiating enough ‘I will smite you’ to flatten a city, Zachariah growled, “Tell them to take a hike and be grateful we have an Empath available for them at all.” With that he slammed the door shut and punched a fist through the opposite wall. Glaring at the empty air where Castiel had been, Zachariah cursed. Storming over to the newly pinned up map of the world, he glared at the unhelpful piece of paper.
“Where in the hell are you?”
No answer appeared, as expected and Zachariah snarled, “This isn’t over, Dean, not by a long shot.”
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Sam was packing his duffle bag when Ruby stepped out of the bathroom, wearing one of Dean’s old shirts and her underwear. “Sam?”A billow of steam and sweet aromas followed her, curling her hair, making her skin glow.
Rather than look, Sam shoved a ball of shirts into the bag and said, “I am going to go check on Dean.” He was scanning the room, making sure he had everything, absently shoving more clothes in the bag as he did so.
Mock pout in place, Ruby flipped her hair off her back and sighed, “Sam, come on. You saw him just the other day.”
Sam shook his head, not looking at her, “And I should have checked on him, talked to him. Not just run away again.”
Rolling her eyes internally, Ruby whined, “We are this close to finding Lilith, Sam. This close.”
Another shake of his head, another refusal to look at her, like she was Medusa or something and he snapped, “The hell we are. We’ve been ‘this close’ for months and nothing. So either you have no clue what you’re doing, or you’re lying to me.” Sam straightened, shoulders back, bad packed.
“Tracking down a higher Demon is no cake walk, Sam. It takes time!” Ruby snarled back, crossing her arms.
Finally Sam met her gaze, his own laced with anger and worry, “Two years? Really? I think you’re stalling. I haven’t figured out why, but whatever. We’ve got... I’ve got time to check on my brother.” The air of defiance was new, daring and after months of hand holding and coaching, Ruby was a little surprised.
But now that he was looking at her, Ruby projected concern and worry too, “And what about your dirty little secret, Sam? You’re just going to freak him out.”
Stubborn lip, narrow eyes, little boy stamping his foot. Sam Winchester all rolled into one and he snapped, “Don’t care. I’m going.”
Resisting the urge to snort, roll her eyes and laugh, Ruby settled for, “Yeah, you do care. You’ll chicken out.”
Sam picked up the keys to the Impala, stared at them for a moment and said, “I’m going. You coming?”
“No.” The word hung between them, suddenly heavy. And Ruby waited to see how it would play out.
Sam left without a word, and without looking back. The door slammed behind him and the Impala roared to life. Ruby leant against the doorjam and sighed, “Oh, you’ll be back, Sammy Boy. I can promise you that. You’ll be begging for me in no time.”
The sluggish pump of unnatural blood in her veins was certain of that. Flicking her long blond hair off her shoulder she sauntered back into the bathroom. Fries were definitely called for. And maybe a little release in the form of mayhem.
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Sam gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, his foot pressed down flat, the Impala eating up the asphalt. He had no idea where he was going other than Washington. He hadn’t felt the cool, soothing presence of his brother for two years, hadn’t felt whole and loved and cared for. Dean’s amulet was heavy on his neck, a weighted reminder, knocking against his chest.
As much as it hadn’t been his choice to separate, he had chosen to stay away and between Ruby’s mission and losing the pain of separation in that, Sam had carefully plugged up the gaping hole that was Dean. Now though, or rather, for the past month and a bit, something had felt off.
Sure, he had no idea where Dean was at the best of times, and their connection was good and severed, but his brother had been a steady beat in his heart and soul for a lifetime. And now something was wrong. It was like Dean was gone, or missing, or something. Maybe even dead. Because try as he could to ignore it, a residual connection forged from a lifetime of Dean was poking him in the eye and saying, ‘Go find your brother, dumbass.’
So he was.
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Fin!
Authors note:
Dear readers, I know that you have waited through two stories to get to this semi-resolution, so I thank you for your patience, reviews and interest and I truly truly hope this was worth the wait. And it isn’t over, not by a long shot but this immediate arc is complete. I would really appreciate any and all feedback on this story, the overall story arc so far, and on my experiment in jumping fandoms. Whatever your thoughts, I’d love to hear them.
I had this story, especially chapter 4 and the last chapter with Cas and Sam, in mind even as I wrote Gibbs’s first meeting with Dean and I wanted to share it straight away even though I had a lot of story first.
Yes, I know T&E are evil and Sam is blissfully unaware of what Dean has been through, but that’s part of the enjoyment I get out of this story because Dean has begun his journey to freedom, but there is still journey to be fought and perceptions to change and brothers to slap upside the head J
I worried that I would lose a few readers through the non-resolution of Dean in T&E custody, until this story, and jumping fandoms to ones people who started with Unwanted might not know or like, but hey, enough of you have read until now, so I hope it worked (a little J)
SPN canon will remain a little flexible from here on, as I don’t intend to go the Apocalypse route at all but I hoped I answered all the ‘will Cas be in it?’ questions. And did you see the ‘Zachariah is Andrews’ coming? I hope not.
Instalment four and the fandom of its crossover will remain a mystery for now. But hang on, folks. It only gets hairier. And there is that conversation Dean needs to have with Sam. The long one.
Thank you again for your encouragement and sticking through the ‘argh!’ and frustration and ‘I hate T&E’, the ‘where’s Sam?’. Trust me, your enthusiasm and comments only makes writing this easier.
Yes, that is a shameless plug for comments/reviews/quick notes of ‘write faster, you fool!’ J
In fact, since this is usually where I insert my thanks to the lurkers (being a lurker myself), I will instead offer you a bribe to delurk (no, I am not above that).
On offer is a prompt fic of your choice. You give me an outline of what you’d like and I’ll do my best to fill it.
All you have to do is comment and/or review and I’ll randomly select a winner. J This goes for you consistent, steady, make my day folks, too. Because you do make my day with every review.
Congrats to greeniron who wins the prompt offer! (as randomly selected by random.org) and lurkers who delurked? Thank you, thank you. Nice to hear from you :)
Thanks
Teaser Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epilogue
Background blurb
Author: Tari_Roo
Rating: PG13 (Gen)
Fandom: SPN/SGA
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing. Although if I had my way Sheppard and co would still on screen, Mitchell would have joined Atlantis and Dean and Sam would be shirtless more often.
Summary: SGA/SPN Crossover AU. When an impossibly locked door is keeping the Trust from treasures unknown, they arrange to steal an Empath so that their Kinetics can ‘crack the safe’. Unfortunately for Dean, he’s the unlucky Empath and the safe is in Pegasus.
Spoilers: set post Season 5 of SGA and assumes Atlantis returned to Pegasus, post ep 100 and AU for SPN (all seasons). Specific spoilers for Season 5 of SPN
Prelim A/N: This fic is dedicated to Terry Pratchett. He’s not dead, and hasn’t stopped writing, but as he is suffering from Alzheimer’s, new Discworld stories are in limited supply. I read Unseen Academials whilst writing a lot of this story and I felt a keen love for Nutt.
So, Mr Pratchett. Thank you for Sam Vimes, who I have a crush on. Thank you for Carrot and Angua, who I hope will have puppies soon. Thank you for Luggage, Oook, CMOTD, Argh in many languages, Susan, Cohen and the Silver Horde and I aten’t dead. You have made me laugh out loud so many times with your foot notes alone. Thank you for Rule Number One, all caps dialogue, Spot, Ronnie Soak, NacMacFeegles and Lilacs. Live long and prosper, dude.
Chapter 10 - Epilogue
“Breathe in. Breathe out.”
“Stillness is essential.”
“No humming.”
“Or sighing.”
Dean shifted a little, his butt going numb, well aware of Teyla’s attention even if her eyes were closed. The room was bright and warm, full of sunlight yellows and golden browns. The stained glass window made everything fell very still and peaceful. Bu the room had the rank aftersmell of sweat and it was a bit distracting.
“Dean, please.”
Dean stopped tapping out the opening beats of Puppetmaster and sighed. Sitting crosslegged on a hard floor was not his idea of a good time on the best of days, let alone a one best spent outside.
“You wished to learn control, or rather regain it. I am trying to assist.” Teyla still had not turned around, her back stiff and disapproving, posture perfect and Dean fidgeted. “Well, Sheppard mentioned stick fighting...”
A beat of silence and Teyla sighed, “Carson would not approve and as much as I wouldn’t mind hitting you right now, another time perhaps.”
Dean grinned and tried to settle. The stick fighting thing sounded awesome and while meditating had never really been his thing, if it meant Teyla would be more amiable to teaching him, then he’d meditate his ass off.
Luckily Dean felt Ronon coming, a sharp buzz of controlled aggression and excitement, because the big guy had cat feet and got a kick out of giving you a fright. Without opening his eyes, Dean heard Ronon stop at the door and felt his amusement. “Got a lead on a Trust team. Sheppard’s heading out. You want to come?”
Dean was up so fast his besocked feet slid on the smooth floor a little. “Hell, yes.” Belatedly remembering Teyla, Dean slid to a stop, grabbing hold of Ronon as he did. “Teyla?”
“Go. I am still in need of calm and serenity.”
Smiling a little guiltily, Dean nodded, “Cool. Thanks. Later.” Ronon was staring at his socks, and gave Dean an unimpressed headshake to which Dean shrugged. “It was cold this morning.”
The implied ‘wuss’ was half-hearted as Ronon trotted off, heading towards the broom closet Dean now called his. His wardrobe was black BDUs and borrowed jeans. In fact, almost everything in his room was donated or borrowed, but it was still nice to have a space all his own.
“Meet you at the Gate. Stop by the armoury.”
Pulling on combat pants and a fresh black t-shirt, Dean grabbed his sunglasses and ran off. Sergeant Jones was at the armoury and gave Dean some grief over his choice of sidearm, but Dean insisted on the Colt 911. It wasn’t standard and Jones didn’t like it, but one tac vest, one P90 and one cowboy peashooter later, Dean was set.
“Later, man!”
Atlantis was all shades of blue and green. And with the blue, gray and black of the expedition uniforms, a glimpse of pale beige was eye catching. Legs pumping, not wanting to keep them waiting, Dean turned a corner and caught the flash of pale colour, stopped and turned. A tall, dark haired man in a trenchcoat was standing at the end of the corridor.
Dean blinked, but the man was still there and he instinctively reached out, testing the man’s aura, wondering if he was a ghost. There was a flash of white, blinding light and Dean felt purpose, mission, duty, honour and goodness. Staggering back, a headache sharp behind his eyes, Dean tightened his grip on the P90 but when his vision cleared the man was gone.
Ronon’s voice boomed down the corridor, “Winchester! You coming?”
“Yeah, yeah, keep your dreads on.”
Chalking the moment up to a possible Ancient encounter, weird ghost or alien spy, Dean made a note to mention it to Sheppard later. But right now he had an alien world to explore and that rocked on so many levels, not even weird trenchcoat people could ruin it.
“Winchester!”
“All right!”
Dean ran off.
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Castiel reformed in a small park, startling several pigeons and a homeless man propped up on a bench. Momentarily discombobulated, Castiel waited for the physical world to settle, his long journey through the celestial plane quite tiring. The homeless man flapped at his disturbed newspapers and groused, “Hey, watch it, man!”
Blinking slowly, Castiel looked down, pondered on the appropriate response and said, “Apologies. Man.”
Settled on this plane and the vessel ready, Castiel accessed the celestial plane and dematerialised. Several papers blew off Zachariah’s desk as Castiel reappeared in his office. Zachariah instantly beamed, “Castiel, you’re back. Excellent.”
Turning around, Castiel nodded at Zachariah and replied, “Yes.” Zachariah stood and hurried around from behind his desk. His vessel’s suit was rumpled and ill fitting, but he radiated delight. “And, did you find him?” He looked ragged, tired even, as if he was getting very little sleep, which was incongruous to their natures.
“Yes.”
Zachariah’s smile was blinding as his aura exploded with happiness. “Wonderful. Where is he?”
“Safe.” Castiel stared nonplussed at Zachariah, not returning the smile, disliking the glee emanating from his brother.
The aura’s glow dimmed, slightly and Zachariah grinned, “And where is that exactly?”
Castiel turned to face Zachariah directly, and said firmly, “Dean Winchester is safe, Zachariah. That is all you need to know.”
The change in mood was abrupt and the stream of disapproval and anger sudden. “What?” Castiel did not move as Zachariah closed the distance between them and grabbed the lapels of his coat. “Where is he?” The vessels face was less smooth this close, more wrinkled and worn.
Meeting Zachariah’s anger heavy glare, Castiel paused as he considered his response, “I have been occupied these past years with many things, Zachariah, but this recent search for Dean Winchester has lead me to discover several disturbing facts. You promised to keep him safe. You have not.”
Instantly backing off, smoothing Castiel’s lapels, Zachariah buried his emotions and projected artificial calm, “Now, Castiel. You know the importance of my mission and ...”
Interrupting smoothly Castiel pressed his point, “Your definition of care leaves much to be desired. At present, Dean Winchester is safe and that is all you will ever know.”
A spike of irate fear rattled Zachariah’s projected calm and he snarled, “I was this close to getting him to say yes to Michael! This close.” He held up his hand, finger and thumb an inch apart. Castiel stared at his hand and said, “Our mission is to watch over him, not coerce agreement.”
“We stand on the precipice of the apocalypse and you have just lost our key weapon!” Zachariah threw up his hands, going slightly red in the face. In response the disturbed papers in the room fluttered about and even on this plane, one could glimpse the movement of wings.
Castiel stepped forward and Zachariah took a step back, overwhelmed by the torrent of anger from him. Anger was easy to find and Castiel tried to fight past his rising emotion, not wanting to match anger for anger. Contention between brothers was not conducive. So, as calmly as he could, Castiel said, “Hardly. The first seal is intact and while the demons may have Sam Winchester poised to break the final seal, it is immaterial as the first seal is secure and all the others.”
Shaking his head, wagging his finger at Castiel derisively, Zachariah hissed, “No, the first seal is lost! Out in the wind.”
“Dean Winchester is safe, and out of your hands.”
Genuinely red in the face and losing control, Zachariah glared fiercely and yelled, “Now, you listen, you mindless gormless worm, we need to be ready...”
Unimpressed with the insults, Castiel turned away and overrode him with, “For what? If you were not an Angel dedicated to the Most High, I would think you enjoyed tormenting the man, bringing him to the point of breaking.” As he finished Castiel met Zachariah’s faltering gaze head on, allowing far more of his wrath to show than was perhaps wise.
Zachariah stank of unease, his smile oily, instantly backing off, “I serve a higher purpose...”
A firm, certain shake of the head, just like the human’s did, Castiel snapped, “No. You serve Raphael’s machinations. Michael is agreed on action only if the first seal breaks. There is no righteous man in Hell. Dean Winchester is safe. Why do you persist in pursuing this course?”
Caught off guard, Zachariah flashed intense surprise and suspicion, “No righteous man in Hell? How can you be so sure?” He moved towards his desk, genuinely curious, wings rustling in agitation.
Castiel though remained silent, and stared solemnly at Zachariah, who in turn grinned and pointed again at Castiel like he’d been caught out. “So, your little garrison are the ones behind the attacks on crossroad demons. Interesting play.”
“We serve God’s will.”
Zachariah sat on his desk, arms folded, and snorted, “And how do you know it isn’t God’s will that we start the Apocalypse?”
“Faith.” On this Castiel was certain, unmovable.
Losing it again, displaying far more volatile emotions than a higher being should be subject to, Zachariah snarled, “Ignorant, blind fool! You are risking everything!” He shoved a whole pile of files off his desk, sending the papers flying.
Unmoved, and regaining his own calm, grateful for the knowledge his visit to the far end of Galaxy had given, Castiel mused, “Hardly. The first seal holds, the demons are at an impasse until it breaks and I have ensured Dean Winchester’s safety.”
Zachariah opened his mouth, no doubt to launch into yet another tirade but there was a knock on the door, and an urgent, “Agent Andrews, it’s an emergency.”
Zachariah turned to snarl at the door, face scarlet, hair wild and Castiel took the opportunity to leave, and dematerialised. Snarling in double anger now, Zachariah threw the door open and snapped, “What?” The man on the otherside paled visibly and stepped back. Stammering, he gulped, “Ah, three Kinetics downstairs, sir. They’re threatening to tear the room apart if their session is postponed again.”
Radiating enough ‘I will smite you’ to flatten a city, Zachariah growled, “Tell them to take a hike and be grateful we have an Empath available for them at all.” With that he slammed the door shut and punched a fist through the opposite wall. Glaring at the empty air where Castiel had been, Zachariah cursed. Storming over to the newly pinned up map of the world, he glared at the unhelpful piece of paper.
“Where in the hell are you?”
No answer appeared, as expected and Zachariah snarled, “This isn’t over, Dean, not by a long shot.”
s*g*a*s*p*n* s*g*a*s*p*n* s*g*a*s*p*n* s*g*a*s*p*n* s*g*a*s*p*n* s*g*a*s*p*n
Sam was packing his duffle bag when Ruby stepped out of the bathroom, wearing one of Dean’s old shirts and her underwear. “Sam?”A billow of steam and sweet aromas followed her, curling her hair, making her skin glow.
Rather than look, Sam shoved a ball of shirts into the bag and said, “I am going to go check on Dean.” He was scanning the room, making sure he had everything, absently shoving more clothes in the bag as he did so.
Mock pout in place, Ruby flipped her hair off her back and sighed, “Sam, come on. You saw him just the other day.”
Sam shook his head, not looking at her, “And I should have checked on him, talked to him. Not just run away again.”
Rolling her eyes internally, Ruby whined, “We are this close to finding Lilith, Sam. This close.”
Another shake of his head, another refusal to look at her, like she was Medusa or something and he snapped, “The hell we are. We’ve been ‘this close’ for months and nothing. So either you have no clue what you’re doing, or you’re lying to me.” Sam straightened, shoulders back, bad packed.
“Tracking down a higher Demon is no cake walk, Sam. It takes time!” Ruby snarled back, crossing her arms.
Finally Sam met her gaze, his own laced with anger and worry, “Two years? Really? I think you’re stalling. I haven’t figured out why, but whatever. We’ve got... I’ve got time to check on my brother.” The air of defiance was new, daring and after months of hand holding and coaching, Ruby was a little surprised.
But now that he was looking at her, Ruby projected concern and worry too, “And what about your dirty little secret, Sam? You’re just going to freak him out.”
Stubborn lip, narrow eyes, little boy stamping his foot. Sam Winchester all rolled into one and he snapped, “Don’t care. I’m going.”
Resisting the urge to snort, roll her eyes and laugh, Ruby settled for, “Yeah, you do care. You’ll chicken out.”
Sam picked up the keys to the Impala, stared at them for a moment and said, “I’m going. You coming?”
“No.” The word hung between them, suddenly heavy. And Ruby waited to see how it would play out.
Sam left without a word, and without looking back. The door slammed behind him and the Impala roared to life. Ruby leant against the doorjam and sighed, “Oh, you’ll be back, Sammy Boy. I can promise you that. You’ll be begging for me in no time.”
The sluggish pump of unnatural blood in her veins was certain of that. Flicking her long blond hair off her shoulder she sauntered back into the bathroom. Fries were definitely called for. And maybe a little release in the form of mayhem.
s*g*a*s*p*n* s*g*a*s*p*n* s*g*a*s*p*n* s*g*a*s*p*n* s*g*a*s*p*n* s*g*a*s*p*n
Sam gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, his foot pressed down flat, the Impala eating up the asphalt. He had no idea where he was going other than Washington. He hadn’t felt the cool, soothing presence of his brother for two years, hadn’t felt whole and loved and cared for. Dean’s amulet was heavy on his neck, a weighted reminder, knocking against his chest.
As much as it hadn’t been his choice to separate, he had chosen to stay away and between Ruby’s mission and losing the pain of separation in that, Sam had carefully plugged up the gaping hole that was Dean. Now though, or rather, for the past month and a bit, something had felt off.
Sure, he had no idea where Dean was at the best of times, and their connection was good and severed, but his brother had been a steady beat in his heart and soul for a lifetime. And now something was wrong. It was like Dean was gone, or missing, or something. Maybe even dead. Because try as he could to ignore it, a residual connection forged from a lifetime of Dean was poking him in the eye and saying, ‘Go find your brother, dumbass.’
So he was.
s*g*a*s*p*n* s*g*a*s*p*n* s*g*a*s*p*n* s*g*a*s*p*n* s*g*a*s*p*n* s*g*a*s*p*n
Fin!
Authors note:
Dear readers, I know that you have waited through two stories to get to this semi-resolution, so I thank you for your patience, reviews and interest and I truly truly hope this was worth the wait. And it isn’t over, not by a long shot but this immediate arc is complete. I would really appreciate any and all feedback on this story, the overall story arc so far, and on my experiment in jumping fandoms. Whatever your thoughts, I’d love to hear them.
I had this story, especially chapter 4 and the last chapter with Cas and Sam, in mind even as I wrote Gibbs’s first meeting with Dean and I wanted to share it straight away even though I had a lot of story first.
Yes, I know T&E are evil and Sam is blissfully unaware of what Dean has been through, but that’s part of the enjoyment I get out of this story because Dean has begun his journey to freedom, but there is still journey to be fought and perceptions to change and brothers to slap upside the head J
I worried that I would lose a few readers through the non-resolution of Dean in T&E custody, until this story, and jumping fandoms to ones people who started with Unwanted might not know or like, but hey, enough of you have read until now, so I hope it worked (a little J)
SPN canon will remain a little flexible from here on, as I don’t intend to go the Apocalypse route at all but I hoped I answered all the ‘will Cas be in it?’ questions. And did you see the ‘Zachariah is Andrews’ coming? I hope not.
Instalment four and the fandom of its crossover will remain a mystery for now. But hang on, folks. It only gets hairier. And there is that conversation Dean needs to have with Sam. The long one.
Thank you again for your encouragement and sticking through the ‘argh!’ and frustration and ‘I hate T&E’, the ‘where’s Sam?’. Trust me, your enthusiasm and comments only makes writing this easier.
Yes, that is a shameless plug for comments/reviews/quick notes of ‘write faster, you fool!’ J
In fact, since this is usually where I insert my thanks to the lurkers (being a lurker myself), I will instead offer you a bribe to delurk (no, I am not above that).
On offer is a prompt fic of your choice. You give me an outline of what you’d like and I’ll do my best to fill it.
All you have to do is comment and/or review and I’ll randomly select a winner. J This goes for you consistent, steady, make my day folks, too. Because you do make my day with every review.
Congrats to greeniron who wins the prompt offer! (as randomly selected by random.org) and lurkers who delurked? Thank you, thank you. Nice to hear from you :)
Thanks
Teaser Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epilogue
Background blurb