The Same Coin [13b/13]
Author's Note: *hangs head* okay so I sort of lied when I said this final chapter will be two parts...I'm working on part three right now. I'm sure none of you will mind having more parts to read. *fingers crossed* I won't be working on 13d soon. I hope you enjoy!
Title: The Same Coin
Shows: Supernatural/Stargate SG-1
Author: yacoba
Beta: i_paint_the_sky
Word Count: 5 195
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-
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen[a]
O’Neil pushed his chair back from the conference table, getting to his feet sharply as General Hammond moved back towards his office. He glanced down the table at the rest of his team, also getting to their feet. “Teal’c, get Sam and Dean uniforms,” he ordered, receiving a silent nod in response.
“What’s wrong with what we’re wearing now?” Dean asked, almost suppressing a wince as he stood.
“You’ll draw less attention this way,” Jack said, allowing his tone to say this wasn’t a suggestion.
Teal’c stepped around the long table to stand in front of the Winchesters. “Come with me,” he said solemnly.
The Colonel watched the boys follow the Jaffa from the room. Sam walked closely on his brother’s heels, clearly wanting to be within reach in case Dean needed him. Jack couldn’t see the older Winchester asking for help but he also hadn’t missed the pain the hunter was trying to hide. O’Neill knew the deep ache of cracked ribs and also knew the concussion Dean had suffered wasn’t doing him any favors. But all of that was out weighed by the look of determination Jack immediately recognized in the kid’s eyes.
Dean had been raised by a former soldier and it showed more so than with Sam. He had his suspicions that had more to do with Dean’s influence in his little brother’s life than the differences in Sam’s personality. The resourcefulness and discipline made them great at their jobs and, quite frankly, Jack wanted to see them keep at it. As hard as it might be to believe, Sam and Dean were defending Earth the only way they knew how.
Walking away from the table, Jack rapped lightly on the General’s door, stepping inside the office a second later.
“Colonel?” Hammond said as he lowered himself onto his leather chair.
“Have you considered what to do with the Winchesters once this demon’s taken care of?” he asked, coming to a stop in front of the desk.
The General drew in a breath. “They are carrying an impressive criminal record between the two of them.”
“Most of which we know are misunderstandings,” Jack pointed out. He didn’t even consider the possibility of setting the Winchester’s record straight; without the visual proof it was all just a little hard to believe.
“Misunderstandings,” the General agreed, “that we can’t afford to get mixed up in.”
O’Neill dropped his hands down on the backrest of a chair. “I understand we can’t clear their records,” he began.
“Colonel,” Hammond cut in, “I’m classifying what happened here, above top secret; I’d like to have to explain this to as few people as possible.”
“And the Winchesters?”
“The official report will indicate that these two very resourceful young men escaped,” the General said and although his expression was serious Jack could see a light in his commander’s eyes that he recognized.
Jack smirked with a slow nod of his head. “It’s easier to get out than in.”
“Precisely.”
“Alright General, we should be ready to embark by 16:00,” O’Neill said, straightening up sharply.
The Colonel left the office without another word, making his way towards the elevators and taking it to the twenty-fifth floor. He’d no sooner stepped out into the hall before he heard the fast pace of heeled shoes coming up behind him.
“Colonel O’Neill,” Janet’s voice called from a few feet down the hall
“Dr. Fraiser,” he replied, swinging around to a lazy stop.
“I just heard you’re taking the Winchesters off-world,” she began, coming to an abrupt halt in front of him.
He offered her a tiny smile, little more than the corners of his lips quirking up. “News travels fast.”
She folded her arms across her chest, never a good sign. “You don’t think I should have been consulted first?”
Jack didn’t fight the urge to sigh. “Doc, if you’ve heard then you know it’s not negotiable.”
“He’s suffered a concussion,” Janet pointed out, “he should still be resting.”
“Is he healthy enough to walk?” Jack asked dryly which earned him a glare in response. “That’s all either of them will be doing.”
Janet eyed him for a moment, her expression stern. “I’ll hold you to that, Colonel,” she told him firmly.
“I’d expect nothing less,” he assured her, attempting sincerity though he was pretty sure he’d failed by the expression on Janet’s face. “We’ll come see you after the mission.” It didn’t need to be said, as it was standard procedure for all returning teams, but it seemed to help as Janet nodded and walked away.
Turning back down the hall, Jack made his way to the locker room, finding the door stood open a crack. He pushed it the rest of the way and leaned his shoulder against the door frame. Dean glanced up from where he sat on the bench lacing his military issue boots; Sam had his back to the door as his shrugged into the green jacket.
“Teal’c,” Jack greeted.
“O’Neill,” the Jaffa returned with a nod. “We are ready,” he announced already in his TAC vest, zat strapped to his thigh.
Jack regarded Dean as he got to his feet, using hands against his knees to push himself straight. “You up for this?” he asked despite himself, Janet’s concern obviously bleeding through.
Dean scoffed at the question, his hands moving seemingly without thought to flip up the collar of his coat, leaving it undone. “This is nothing,” he assured, forcing an easy shrug.
“Alright,” Jack said, pushing himself off the door. “Secure the demon and meet in the gate room at 16:00.”
---SPN/SG-1---
With a hiss of well-oiled gears, the steel bulkhead door pulled aside at Dean’s approach and Teal’c led the way through. A klaxon sounded sharply over the loud rumble of the gate and orange warning lights flashed from below the emergency lights along the walls of the huge room. The hunter might have hesitated to enter the gate room if it wasn’t for the fact that everyone else was acting as if nothing was happening.
“Chevron 3 is encoded,” a voice announced over the PA system.
Glancing up to the observation room, Dean saw both the General and Colonel O’Neill standing on either side of a man seated at the computer. Emerald eyes swept over the room, taking in the finer details of the Stargate as the center wheel spun, causing another chevron to light.
“Chevron 4 is encoded,” the man announced again.
“That must get boring after awhile,” Dean commented to his brother, speaking directly into his ear to be heard over the racket.
Sam nodded, his lips quirking up in a smirk as he shifted the case containing the artifact higher on his shoulder.
Looking across the room, Dean saw Captain Carter and Daniel standing near the end of the ramp in full gear. Carter had a rifle attached to her vest and they both wore a Glock strapped to their thighs; Daniel also held an odd looking staff in his hand which he passed to Teal’c as soon as he was close. Sweeping his attention back up to Jack, Dean was a little concerned to see that he too was carrying weapons.
“This planet,” he said, glancing briefly to the others before looking up at the gate, “It’s friendly?”
“Yes?” Daniel replied, making it a question, clearly looking for more.
“The Gou’ald haven’t inhabited P4X-495 for more than nine hundred years,” Carter added.
“And you still bring weapons?” he asked pointedly, feeling naked without his silver knife at the very least.
“Standard off world procedure,” Jack announced as he walked into the gate room.
“Care to extend the courtesy?” It was Sam who asked, obviously not as comfortable weaponless as he’d like Dean to believe.
O’Neill glanced over his shoulder towards Dean. “That won’t be necessary,” he drawled.
“Chevron 7 is locked!”
The different phrasing caught the hunter’s attention and his eyes went immediately to the Stargate, waiting to see what would happen next. He’d read about the gate in the files Ash had hacked for them but no amount of reading could prepare him for the actual thing. Dean jumped despite himself as the gate suddenly emitted a deep whine and a geyser of boiling water rushed towards him. It pulled back almost a quickly, settling into a rippling pool of blue liquid. The ‘Event Horizon’-he’d heard Carter refer to it as that-cast a shining blue glow across the room.
Vaguely Dean caught the amused expressions that SG-1 shared and Dean also noted the-no doubt similar-shocked expression on his brother’s face. He figured they didn’t get the opportunity all that often to watch a civilian see the gate for the first time. He attempted to subtly straighten himself, a low grunt escaping him as his ribs finally registered the movement and gasped breath. Holding his arm against his side, Dean looked up at the gate wondering what it would feel like to step through.
The sound of army boots on metal grating brought Dean out of his thoughts and he saw O’Neill, Carter, and Teal’c heading up the ramp to the gate. Sam took his first steps a second later and the older Winchester was easily able to read his brother’s body language. Sam was excited about this.
Dean stepped onto the ramp; striding up the slight incline, he looked curiously at the wavering pool. With a sound that reminded Dean remarkably of a rock dropping into a pond, Jack and Teal’c stepped through, sending a wave of ripples bouncing off each other. Sam glanced over his shoulder, excitement clear in his hazel eyes a second before he too disappeared with an audible splunk!
Coming to a stop at the edge of the Event Horizon, Dean hesitated to reach out and actually touch the glowing blue water. Daniel came up beside him, putting his hand through the water with a smile. “Go ahead,” he encouraged.
Dean regarded the archeologist for a moment where his hand disappeared inside the blue. “What’s it feel like?” he asked curiously.
“Like nothing at all,” he replied, pulling his hand back out.
“Do I even want to know how this really works?” he questioned skeptically.
Daniel raised a considering eyebrow at that. “Probably not…” he admitted slowly.
Dean nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Swallowing hard, he put his hand through the ‘water,’ surprised when he really didn’t feel anything at all. It was almost as though his hand no longer existed though his brain had no doubts it was actually there. “Huh,” he muttered as he stepped through.
Coming out the other side a second later, Dean stumbled, his brain rushing to catch up with the sudden unexplained change. His body tensed in a desperate attempt to stop himself from falling down the stone steps and it would have happened if O’Neill’s strong arm hadn’t caught him. Dean groaned as his weight landed heavily against the arm across his chest.
“Woah there,” Jack said, voice a little strained as he pulled Dean back towards the gate.
“Damn,” the hunter coughed, shaking his head to clear it. Drawing in a slow shallow breath, Dean got his legs back under him just as the gate snapped shut behind him.
“Dean!” his brother’s voice sounded worried. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, Sammy,” he growled, brushing away from O’Neill, embarrassed the travel had effected him at all.
“Take a minute,” Carter warned coming back up the stone platform. “Traveling through the Stargate can leave your head feeling a little scrambled.”
Dean released a frustrated breath. “I’m fine,” he stated, perhaps a little too defensively. “I just tripped,” Dean regretted saying it immediately, scowling darkly at the knowing look Sam gave him.
Clearing his throat sharply, Dean turned his focus on the area around him. Early morning sunlight shone down through a thick shield of trees surrounding the clearing. The air was fresh, crisp, and clear; it was fresher than Dean had ever remembered smelling, even in the remote forests. At first glance it really looked no different than Earth. Dean shook his head at that thought, finding it hard to convince himself it wasn’t. Looking up at the cloudless sky, Dean revised that. Suspended there, one partially in front of the other, were two moons.
“Okay,” he nodded slowly, returning his gaze to O’Neill and the others, “not in Kansa anymore.”
---SPN/SG-1---
Sam smirked at his brother’s observation, glad to see he was looking and acting more like himself, color returning to his face since stepping through the gate. Sam had wanted to know all he could about the process but as soon as Carter had mentioned ‘demolecularization’ he’d known immediately not to mention any of that to his brother. Dean would be much happier not knowing.
“How far is the settlement?” he asked, hazel eyes searching down the well-traveled path but he couldn’t see anything beyond the field of trees.
O’Neill shifted his rifle as he walked off the gate platform. “About half a click from the gate,” Jack nodded towards the path, pulling his hat down low over his eyes. “Let’s go.”
Sam fell in beside his brother as they followed the Colonel to the far edge of the clearing, noting the way the members of SG-1 formed up around them. Teal’c and Captain Carter appeared to be on alert while Daniel and Jack were more relaxed. Dean was eyeing the thick underbrush lining the edges of the path and Sam could easily read the wary set of his shoulders. To say they were out of their element was an understatement and Sam would have really preferred to have a weapon of some form to protect himself, just in case.
Hefting the hard-shelled case higher on his shoulder Sam glanced down at it, hoping they’d be able to contain the demon until it was safely dealt with. They were after all basically giving the creature exactly what it wanted: Native American blood.
“So Daniel, how many languages do you speak?” Dean asked suddenly.
The archeologist’s brow furrowed, perhaps taken by surprised with the random question. “Um…I’ve never really kept a running tally, why?” he returned curiously.
Dean moved his left hand into his coat pocket, the right briefly supporting his elbow as he shrugged. “No reason, just figured it’d be a requirement with this job.”
“Actually,” it was Carter who spoke up, “most alien races we’ve come across speak English.”
“Seriously?” Sam blurted out in surprise.
“Well, the Gou’ald tend to speak in a variant of Arabic…” Daniel began, when O’Neill glanced back over his shoulder at the rest of them.
“Daniel’s here mostly for translation of ancient texts we come across,” the Colonel pointed out.
“Oh, thank you,” Daniel returned sarcastically.
Jack offered him a smirk. “Did I mention annoying the hell out of me?” the words weren’t the least bit biting, though Sam didn’t doubt that could change if the two of them were in disagreement.
“I think you mean voice of reason,” Dr. Jackson replied, not missing a beat.
Dean cleared his throat in a failed attempt to disguise a laugh. “And none of you find it strangely ‘convenient’ that so many planets all speak English?” he asked dubiously.
“Why look a gift horse in the mouth?” Jack shot back immediately.
Sam didn’t suppose there was much argument with that kind of logic.
Continuing down the path, Sam felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise in warning. He glanced to either side of the trail; sunlight dappled the thick underbrush but the sun was still too low in the sky to really fight the shadows.
“We’re being watched,” Dean commented softly
Sam nodded in silent agreement. “You catch sight of any of them?” he asked just as softly.
“No,” Dean replied, eyes still scanning the tree line, “they’re good.”
Sam took note of SG-1’s collective demeanor, willing at least for the moment to take his cues from them. None of them seemed overly concerned. “What sort of a welcome can we expect?” Sam asked the archeologist, who walked beside him.
“As a team we’ve been here once,” Daniel began, adjusting the bandana he’s tied over his head. “I’ve returned several times to research some old ruins not far from the tribe’s encampment--”
“I take it that means friendly?” Dean cut in with a raised brow.
Daniel blinked. “Yes,” he finished simply.
“Do they always follow you from the gate?” Sam asked quietly, just managing to catch a rustle in a bush that hadn’t been caused by the breeze.
“They’re cautious by nature,” Daniel said, keeping his attention on Sam rather than the edges of the path. “It might have been centuries since the Gou’ald inhabited this planet but the people still remember. The tale of their slavery is passed down through stories so they’ll never forget.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Why exactly did the Gou’ald take people from Earth to begin with?”
“They believe themselves to be gods and what is a god without worshipers?” the archeologist responded, removing his glasses for a moment to hold them up to the light as he walked. “Ra, ruled over Earth more than five thousand years ago, until the people rose up against him.”
“Did they all take on the roles Egyptians gods?” Dean asked amused.
“Not just the roles, the entire cultural heritage,” Daniel continued, replacing his glasses on his nose. “And no, they’ve taken on the ‘gods’ of just about every culture on Earth. The Gou’ald are in every way parasitical; they’ll take whatever people, culture or technology will suit them best.”
Dean shrugged his good shoulder. “Whatever works I guess.”
The younger Winchester caught Teal’c’s brief glare out of the corner of his eye. Sam guessed the Jaffa didn’t approve of Dean’s glib tone but Sam could understand what his brother meant. Hunters used whatever worked, from whatever culture they found it in to take care of the threat at hand.
“Daniel!” a youthful voice shouted from further down the trail. It was the first true sign that they weren’t alone. The archeologist waved a greeting, his lips turning up in a wide smile as a boy came bounding down the path.
The boy wore simple clothes, all of which appeared to be made from the hides of animals. Well-worn boots rose up nearly to his knees, a slight cuff of fur around the top indicating that they were warmly lined. Thick black hair fell across the kid’s tanned face and Sam was struck with the surreal feeling that he was seeing one of the Inuit as they had been before their world and ways changed. It was one thing to hear that the culture existed as it once had on Earth; it was completely another to witness it, to feel like you’d stepped back in time.
“Hey, Pakak,” O’Neill said his voice far warmer than Sam had expected it to be.
“O’Neill!” the boy replied excitedly. “And you’ve brought friends!” he exclaimed, skidding to a halt in the center of the trail. Wide brown eyes swept over Sam and Dean; his face split in a huge smile.
“We did,” Daniel said, his tone sounding slightly surprised as he turned to the two hunters. “This is Dean and Sam,” he indicated each with a pointed finger. “Guys this is Pakak, Tiriaq’s youngest son,” the archeologist introduced.
“Hey there,” Dean greeted with a stupid smile Sam recognized all too well. “We come in peace.” Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s lame statement.
Pakak appeared not to even take notice as his eyes landed on the case slung over Sam’s shoulder. He darted past Jack and Daniel. “Have you brought more chocolate?!” he asked beaming up at the hunter, his hands immediately going for the latches on the case.
The hunter moved aside quickly, keeping a firm grasp on the case, not about to let the demon escape prematurely. He regarded the boy for a moment guessing his age to be no more than twelve or thirteen years old; he was precocious, to say the very least.
“Sorry Pakak, no chocolate this time,” Daniel apologized putting himself between the Winchesters and the boy. “We’re here to see your father,” he explained.
The boy beamed up at Daniel. “I’ll bring you to him,” he announced seriously, turning on the heels of his soft soled boots to quickly fall into pace beside the Colonel.
“Best keep a strong hold on that case,” the archeologist instructed as they began walking again. “He doesn’t mean any harm by it, Pakak is just incredibly curious.”
“Pakak,” Sam repeated the name thoughtfully, watching the boy as he was walking backwards in front of O’Neill so he could tell him some clearly exciting story. “Does his name mean something?”
Daniel chuckled for a moment. “One that gets into everything, I believe.”
“Ha!” Dean barked a laugh that was followed immediately by a wince. “How’d Tiriaq know?” he asked green eyes still following the young boy.
“He said, he just had a sense when Pakak was born,” Daniel replied with a smile.
Sam looked away from his brother and the archeologist, focusing his attention instead further down the trail where it looked like they were nearing the mouth. Bright sunlight washed out what lay beyond the field of trees, Sam’s hazel eyes struggling to adjust as he was still bathed in shade. Not far to his right, Sam could hear the sound of flowing water but was unable to see the river through the veil of green.
As Sam stepped out into the sunlight he raised a hand to shield his eyes, watching as details of his surroundings immerged. The path from the Stargate let out near a great expanse of water; the strong scent of salt told Sam it was part of an ocean and he briefly wondered what two moons would do for the tides. The river he’d heard through the trees met with the ocean not far to his right. Several men and young boys stood among the small rapids with slender spears in hand; a couple even turned to look as Pakak’s excited speech carrying across the open space.
The young boy took them to the left with a wide sweep of his arm and Sam could see the tribe’s encampment not far off. There were clustered of tepees all wrapped tightly in animal skins surrounding two larger structures which Sam thought might have been for large gatherings. Men and women stopped what they were doing as the group approached while children ran laughing among their parents, too caught up in their games to notice. Sam was a little surprised by the welcoming looks he received from the tribesmen; there wasn’t any of the hostility or distrust born of generations of oppression and lies. He supposed it would be altogether different if they had been Gou’ald.
“How would our regular clothes possibly draw more attention?” Dean asked sarcastically so only Sam would hear.
Sam smirked but didn’t respond when he caught site of the tent flap on one of the larger structure sweep aside. The man who stepped out carried the air of respect with him; Sam noticed the subtle change in the people around him and could only assume the man was the tribal Chief. He was not an exceptionally tall man, probably no more than five foot seven, but he possessed a commanding presence. Somehow he even managed not to look up at them as he watched them approached.
“Chief,” Pakak greeted respectfully. “SG-1 has returned.” He couldn’t entirely contain his excitement as he bounced slightly on his toes.
“Chief,” Jack said, extending his hand which the man clasped firmly.
“O’Neill,” the chief responded in a deep rumbling voice.
Daniel quickly stepped forward. “Chief Tuuluuwaq.”
Sam observed Daniel’s tone and mannerisms as he greeted the tribal chief; the changes were subtle but Sam thought it must have come as second nature to the archeologist to be deferent to the leaders they came across on their travels. Sam wished that were a talent his brother possessed; it could possibly keep them out of the ‘usual’ sticky situations.
Looking to his brother then, Sam saw Dean’s eyes were traveling quickly over the tribesmen who were creating a loose circle around them, before moving back to the chief. Sam was so accustomed to reading his brother it came as second nature. Despite the ease with which SG-1 greeted the tribe, Sam could tell Dean was still wary of it all. He suspected that had as much to do with Dean being injured and without weapon as it did being completely out of his element on an alien planet.
“Chief Tuuluuwaq,” Daniel said again, drawing Sam’s attention back to the head of the group. The archeologist was half turned towards them; the focus of his attention however remained on the chief. “We’ve brought Dean and Sam Winchester to speak with Tiriaq,” Daniel introduced, motioning with his hand for both of them to step forward.
The younger Winchester stepped up, lips turning in an easy smile. Aware of the multiple eyes watching them curiously, Sam gripped the latch on the hard shelled case just to be sure it couldn’t be opened even by mistake. “It’s an honor to meet you,” he said after a beat, feeling silly for saying it but unsure what else he could.
“Chief,” Dean said, voice rough with the edge of respect as he also extended his hand to Tuuluuwaq.
“You wish to speak with our Shaman?” the Chief asked with a raised brow.
Dean gave a barely perceptible nod. “You’re familiar with the Kigatilik?”
“You know of the Mahaha?” Tuuluuwaq asked with a look of surprise.
“Still sounds ridiculous, even when he says it,” Jack pointed out quietly to Teal’c.
Sam nodded once but Dean beat him to the answer. “Been up close’n personal more than once,” he shifted his left arm unconsciously.
“The People of the Claw are a very powerful weapon,” the Chief continued seriously, black eyes looking over each of them.
“Wait,” Sam took another step towards the Chief. “You use the Kigatilik as a weapon?” he asked unable to conceal his disbelief.
“The Kigatilik is a powerful spirit to be respected,” a new voice spoke up.
Sam watched as the men and women parted to allow a wry man to step forward. A heavy necklace fell across the man’s chest, bridging the gap between the tanned vest he wore, embroidered with a multitude of symbols Sam didn’t recognize. He noted absently that the man wasn’t wearing anything on his feet; dark soles flexing lightly against the smooth soil. “Kigatilik protects this village,” he replied solemnly.
Dean pulled his left arm from his coat pocket, cradling his elbow with his right hand. “Isn’t that like playing with fire?” he asked bluntly.
“Dean, Sam, this is Tiriaq,” Daniel introduced quickly, though Sam had already come to that conclusion, noting the respect the tribesmen had for him, not to mention Tuuluuwaq.
The Shaman looked at both of them carefully, sharp eyes piercing Sam with a knowing glance. “You,” he stated pointing a finger from Sam to Dean as he took a step closer. “You are of the Hania,” he said, a smile turning up the corner of his lips.
-Hania?- Sam wondered sharing a glance with his brother, while a ripple of mutters and surprised whispers broke out around them. Dean gave him a one shouldered shrug, looking back to Tiriaq.
“Hania…Hania,” Daniel repeated as though trying to remind himself. “That’s Spirit Warrior,” he said, eyes bright as he looked at Sam and Dean.
The Winchesters shared another look. “Excuse me?” Sam said, ducking his head a little as he looked the Shaman in the eyes.
“You put the spirits to rest,” he said knowingly. “As your father taught you, you fight what can not always be seen.”
Sam caught the way Dean stiffened at the mention of their father. “How’d you know that?” he asked voice rough.
Tiriaq looked up at Dean with a genuine smile. “I listen to the Spirits,” he replied simply.
“What do they say?” Sam asked quickly. He wasn’t sure what to think in that moment. Was it possible that whatever spirits resided on this world could communicate through the void to Earth? Did any distance really exist for them? Or was it just as likely that someone from Stargate Command contacted the tribe before they’d even left? Whatever it was, Sam knew his view of the world was forever changed, leaving him feeling both impossibly big and remarkably small.
The Shaman was silent for a moment, standing a little straighter. “You have traveled a great distance,” he began and Sam got the distinct impression he wasn’t referring to the distance between planets. “You are exhausted,” Tiriaq looked knowingly at Dean, “and wounded.”
Sam had to bit hard on his lip to keep from smiling or worse yet laughing as Dean straightened up pointedly but couldn’t completely hide his wince.
“You have brought Kigatilik, sealed by the blood of my ancestors,” Tiriaq continued.
“You know of blood seals?” Sam asked, somewhat surprised, though he realized he shouldn’t have been; it had been Tiriaq’s ancestors who originally created it on the artifact.
The Shaman nodded his head.
“Good,” Dean said taking a half a step forward. “Shouldn’t be a problem destroying the thing once the seal’s gone,” the last was said more to Sam than anyone else.
“No.”
All eyes were on Tiriaq once again. He stood perfectly still, shoulders drawn back slightly as he regarded them with a stern expression. “The Mahaha will not be destroyed.” The words were firm, purposeful, leaving no room for argument; even Jack seemed too stunned by the Shaman’s sudden change in demeanor to smile at the demon’s unfortunate name.
No surprise to Sam, it was Dean who spoke first. “No offense,” he began, “but even if these demons are used as tools to protect your tribe, this one’s too far gone. It’s rabid. Its killing just for the sake of it and you’re all on the menu.”
Sam pulled a hand through his hair, wishing-not for the first time-that Dean possessed an ounce more tact. Tiriaq didn’t seem the least bit put off by Dean’s outburst. He calmly leaned towards one of the tribesmen, speaking softly into his ear before looking back to Dean. The man moved off with a respectful nod.
“The fault does not lie with the Kigatilik,” he explained in patient tones, “but with the men who misused the power.”
“Then what’d you plan on doing?” Sam asked quickly, before Dean could speak again.
“I will put the spirit to rest,” Tiriaq replied simply.
Dean gave his head a slight shake. “It’s a demon,” he stated flatly as though that should have said it all.
The Shaman looked at Dean with a raised brow. “Yes,” he said, tone more than implying he saw no problem with this. Tiriaq turned then, casting a glance back over his shoulder. “Follow me.”
Sam glanced at his brother. “Demon’s a demon,” Dean muttered, “better off dead.”
“Let’s hope his ways easier,” Sam returned just as softly.
Thanks for reading!
Go to: Thirteen[a] | Thirteen[c]
Title: The Same Coin
Shows: Supernatural/Stargate SG-1
Author: yacoba
Beta: i_paint_the_sky
Word Count: 5 195
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-
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen[a]
O’Neil pushed his chair back from the conference table, getting to his feet sharply as General Hammond moved back towards his office. He glanced down the table at the rest of his team, also getting to their feet. “Teal’c, get Sam and Dean uniforms,” he ordered, receiving a silent nod in response.
“What’s wrong with what we’re wearing now?” Dean asked, almost suppressing a wince as he stood.
“You’ll draw less attention this way,” Jack said, allowing his tone to say this wasn’t a suggestion.
Teal’c stepped around the long table to stand in front of the Winchesters. “Come with me,” he said solemnly.
The Colonel watched the boys follow the Jaffa from the room. Sam walked closely on his brother’s heels, clearly wanting to be within reach in case Dean needed him. Jack couldn’t see the older Winchester asking for help but he also hadn’t missed the pain the hunter was trying to hide. O’Neill knew the deep ache of cracked ribs and also knew the concussion Dean had suffered wasn’t doing him any favors. But all of that was out weighed by the look of determination Jack immediately recognized in the kid’s eyes.
Dean had been raised by a former soldier and it showed more so than with Sam. He had his suspicions that had more to do with Dean’s influence in his little brother’s life than the differences in Sam’s personality. The resourcefulness and discipline made them great at their jobs and, quite frankly, Jack wanted to see them keep at it. As hard as it might be to believe, Sam and Dean were defending Earth the only way they knew how.
Walking away from the table, Jack rapped lightly on the General’s door, stepping inside the office a second later.
“Colonel?” Hammond said as he lowered himself onto his leather chair.
“Have you considered what to do with the Winchesters once this demon’s taken care of?” he asked, coming to a stop in front of the desk.
The General drew in a breath. “They are carrying an impressive criminal record between the two of them.”
“Most of which we know are misunderstandings,” Jack pointed out. He didn’t even consider the possibility of setting the Winchester’s record straight; without the visual proof it was all just a little hard to believe.
“Misunderstandings,” the General agreed, “that we can’t afford to get mixed up in.”
O’Neill dropped his hands down on the backrest of a chair. “I understand we can’t clear their records,” he began.
“Colonel,” Hammond cut in, “I’m classifying what happened here, above top secret; I’d like to have to explain this to as few people as possible.”
“And the Winchesters?”
“The official report will indicate that these two very resourceful young men escaped,” the General said and although his expression was serious Jack could see a light in his commander’s eyes that he recognized.
Jack smirked with a slow nod of his head. “It’s easier to get out than in.”
“Precisely.”
“Alright General, we should be ready to embark by 16:00,” O’Neill said, straightening up sharply.
The Colonel left the office without another word, making his way towards the elevators and taking it to the twenty-fifth floor. He’d no sooner stepped out into the hall before he heard the fast pace of heeled shoes coming up behind him.
“Colonel O’Neill,” Janet’s voice called from a few feet down the hall
“Dr. Fraiser,” he replied, swinging around to a lazy stop.
“I just heard you’re taking the Winchesters off-world,” she began, coming to an abrupt halt in front of him.
He offered her a tiny smile, little more than the corners of his lips quirking up. “News travels fast.”
She folded her arms across her chest, never a good sign. “You don’t think I should have been consulted first?”
Jack didn’t fight the urge to sigh. “Doc, if you’ve heard then you know it’s not negotiable.”
“He’s suffered a concussion,” Janet pointed out, “he should still be resting.”
“Is he healthy enough to walk?” Jack asked dryly which earned him a glare in response. “That’s all either of them will be doing.”
Janet eyed him for a moment, her expression stern. “I’ll hold you to that, Colonel,” she told him firmly.
“I’d expect nothing less,” he assured her, attempting sincerity though he was pretty sure he’d failed by the expression on Janet’s face. “We’ll come see you after the mission.” It didn’t need to be said, as it was standard procedure for all returning teams, but it seemed to help as Janet nodded and walked away.
Turning back down the hall, Jack made his way to the locker room, finding the door stood open a crack. He pushed it the rest of the way and leaned his shoulder against the door frame. Dean glanced up from where he sat on the bench lacing his military issue boots; Sam had his back to the door as his shrugged into the green jacket.
“Teal’c,” Jack greeted.
“O’Neill,” the Jaffa returned with a nod. “We are ready,” he announced already in his TAC vest, zat strapped to his thigh.
Jack regarded Dean as he got to his feet, using hands against his knees to push himself straight. “You up for this?” he asked despite himself, Janet’s concern obviously bleeding through.
Dean scoffed at the question, his hands moving seemingly without thought to flip up the collar of his coat, leaving it undone. “This is nothing,” he assured, forcing an easy shrug.
“Alright,” Jack said, pushing himself off the door. “Secure the demon and meet in the gate room at 16:00.”
---SPN/SG-1---
With a hiss of well-oiled gears, the steel bulkhead door pulled aside at Dean’s approach and Teal’c led the way through. A klaxon sounded sharply over the loud rumble of the gate and orange warning lights flashed from below the emergency lights along the walls of the huge room. The hunter might have hesitated to enter the gate room if it wasn’t for the fact that everyone else was acting as if nothing was happening.
“Chevron 3 is encoded,” a voice announced over the PA system.
Glancing up to the observation room, Dean saw both the General and Colonel O’Neill standing on either side of a man seated at the computer. Emerald eyes swept over the room, taking in the finer details of the Stargate as the center wheel spun, causing another chevron to light.
“Chevron 4 is encoded,” the man announced again.
“That must get boring after awhile,” Dean commented to his brother, speaking directly into his ear to be heard over the racket.
Sam nodded, his lips quirking up in a smirk as he shifted the case containing the artifact higher on his shoulder.
Looking across the room, Dean saw Captain Carter and Daniel standing near the end of the ramp in full gear. Carter had a rifle attached to her vest and they both wore a Glock strapped to their thighs; Daniel also held an odd looking staff in his hand which he passed to Teal’c as soon as he was close. Sweeping his attention back up to Jack, Dean was a little concerned to see that he too was carrying weapons.
“This planet,” he said, glancing briefly to the others before looking up at the gate, “It’s friendly?”
“Yes?” Daniel replied, making it a question, clearly looking for more.
“The Gou’ald haven’t inhabited P4X-495 for more than nine hundred years,” Carter added.
“And you still bring weapons?” he asked pointedly, feeling naked without his silver knife at the very least.
“Standard off world procedure,” Jack announced as he walked into the gate room.
“Care to extend the courtesy?” It was Sam who asked, obviously not as comfortable weaponless as he’d like Dean to believe.
O’Neill glanced over his shoulder towards Dean. “That won’t be necessary,” he drawled.
“Chevron 7 is locked!”
The different phrasing caught the hunter’s attention and his eyes went immediately to the Stargate, waiting to see what would happen next. He’d read about the gate in the files Ash had hacked for them but no amount of reading could prepare him for the actual thing. Dean jumped despite himself as the gate suddenly emitted a deep whine and a geyser of boiling water rushed towards him. It pulled back almost a quickly, settling into a rippling pool of blue liquid. The ‘Event Horizon’-he’d heard Carter refer to it as that-cast a shining blue glow across the room.
Vaguely Dean caught the amused expressions that SG-1 shared and Dean also noted the-no doubt similar-shocked expression on his brother’s face. He figured they didn’t get the opportunity all that often to watch a civilian see the gate for the first time. He attempted to subtly straighten himself, a low grunt escaping him as his ribs finally registered the movement and gasped breath. Holding his arm against his side, Dean looked up at the gate wondering what it would feel like to step through.
The sound of army boots on metal grating brought Dean out of his thoughts and he saw O’Neill, Carter, and Teal’c heading up the ramp to the gate. Sam took his first steps a second later and the older Winchester was easily able to read his brother’s body language. Sam was excited about this.
Dean stepped onto the ramp; striding up the slight incline, he looked curiously at the wavering pool. With a sound that reminded Dean remarkably of a rock dropping into a pond, Jack and Teal’c stepped through, sending a wave of ripples bouncing off each other. Sam glanced over his shoulder, excitement clear in his hazel eyes a second before he too disappeared with an audible splunk!
Coming to a stop at the edge of the Event Horizon, Dean hesitated to reach out and actually touch the glowing blue water. Daniel came up beside him, putting his hand through the water with a smile. “Go ahead,” he encouraged.
Dean regarded the archeologist for a moment where his hand disappeared inside the blue. “What’s it feel like?” he asked curiously.
“Like nothing at all,” he replied, pulling his hand back out.
“Do I even want to know how this really works?” he questioned skeptically.
Daniel raised a considering eyebrow at that. “Probably not…” he admitted slowly.
Dean nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Swallowing hard, he put his hand through the ‘water,’ surprised when he really didn’t feel anything at all. It was almost as though his hand no longer existed though his brain had no doubts it was actually there. “Huh,” he muttered as he stepped through.
Coming out the other side a second later, Dean stumbled, his brain rushing to catch up with the sudden unexplained change. His body tensed in a desperate attempt to stop himself from falling down the stone steps and it would have happened if O’Neill’s strong arm hadn’t caught him. Dean groaned as his weight landed heavily against the arm across his chest.
“Woah there,” Jack said, voice a little strained as he pulled Dean back towards the gate.
“Damn,” the hunter coughed, shaking his head to clear it. Drawing in a slow shallow breath, Dean got his legs back under him just as the gate snapped shut behind him.
“Dean!” his brother’s voice sounded worried. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, Sammy,” he growled, brushing away from O’Neill, embarrassed the travel had effected him at all.
“Take a minute,” Carter warned coming back up the stone platform. “Traveling through the Stargate can leave your head feeling a little scrambled.”
Dean released a frustrated breath. “I’m fine,” he stated, perhaps a little too defensively. “I just tripped,” Dean regretted saying it immediately, scowling darkly at the knowing look Sam gave him.
Clearing his throat sharply, Dean turned his focus on the area around him. Early morning sunlight shone down through a thick shield of trees surrounding the clearing. The air was fresh, crisp, and clear; it was fresher than Dean had ever remembered smelling, even in the remote forests. At first glance it really looked no different than Earth. Dean shook his head at that thought, finding it hard to convince himself it wasn’t. Looking up at the cloudless sky, Dean revised that. Suspended there, one partially in front of the other, were two moons.
“Okay,” he nodded slowly, returning his gaze to O’Neill and the others, “not in Kansa anymore.”
---SPN/SG-1---
Sam smirked at his brother’s observation, glad to see he was looking and acting more like himself, color returning to his face since stepping through the gate. Sam had wanted to know all he could about the process but as soon as Carter had mentioned ‘demolecularization’ he’d known immediately not to mention any of that to his brother. Dean would be much happier not knowing.
“How far is the settlement?” he asked, hazel eyes searching down the well-traveled path but he couldn’t see anything beyond the field of trees.
O’Neill shifted his rifle as he walked off the gate platform. “About half a click from the gate,” Jack nodded towards the path, pulling his hat down low over his eyes. “Let’s go.”
Sam fell in beside his brother as they followed the Colonel to the far edge of the clearing, noting the way the members of SG-1 formed up around them. Teal’c and Captain Carter appeared to be on alert while Daniel and Jack were more relaxed. Dean was eyeing the thick underbrush lining the edges of the path and Sam could easily read the wary set of his shoulders. To say they were out of their element was an understatement and Sam would have really preferred to have a weapon of some form to protect himself, just in case.
Hefting the hard-shelled case higher on his shoulder Sam glanced down at it, hoping they’d be able to contain the demon until it was safely dealt with. They were after all basically giving the creature exactly what it wanted: Native American blood.
“So Daniel, how many languages do you speak?” Dean asked suddenly.
The archeologist’s brow furrowed, perhaps taken by surprised with the random question. “Um…I’ve never really kept a running tally, why?” he returned curiously.
Dean moved his left hand into his coat pocket, the right briefly supporting his elbow as he shrugged. “No reason, just figured it’d be a requirement with this job.”
“Actually,” it was Carter who spoke up, “most alien races we’ve come across speak English.”
“Seriously?” Sam blurted out in surprise.
“Well, the Gou’ald tend to speak in a variant of Arabic…” Daniel began, when O’Neill glanced back over his shoulder at the rest of them.
“Daniel’s here mostly for translation of ancient texts we come across,” the Colonel pointed out.
“Oh, thank you,” Daniel returned sarcastically.
Jack offered him a smirk. “Did I mention annoying the hell out of me?” the words weren’t the least bit biting, though Sam didn’t doubt that could change if the two of them were in disagreement.
“I think you mean voice of reason,” Dr. Jackson replied, not missing a beat.
Dean cleared his throat in a failed attempt to disguise a laugh. “And none of you find it strangely ‘convenient’ that so many planets all speak English?” he asked dubiously.
“Why look a gift horse in the mouth?” Jack shot back immediately.
Sam didn’t suppose there was much argument with that kind of logic.
Continuing down the path, Sam felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise in warning. He glanced to either side of the trail; sunlight dappled the thick underbrush but the sun was still too low in the sky to really fight the shadows.
“We’re being watched,” Dean commented softly
Sam nodded in silent agreement. “You catch sight of any of them?” he asked just as softly.
“No,” Dean replied, eyes still scanning the tree line, “they’re good.”
Sam took note of SG-1’s collective demeanor, willing at least for the moment to take his cues from them. None of them seemed overly concerned. “What sort of a welcome can we expect?” Sam asked the archeologist, who walked beside him.
“As a team we’ve been here once,” Daniel began, adjusting the bandana he’s tied over his head. “I’ve returned several times to research some old ruins not far from the tribe’s encampment--”
“I take it that means friendly?” Dean cut in with a raised brow.
Daniel blinked. “Yes,” he finished simply.
“Do they always follow you from the gate?” Sam asked quietly, just managing to catch a rustle in a bush that hadn’t been caused by the breeze.
“They’re cautious by nature,” Daniel said, keeping his attention on Sam rather than the edges of the path. “It might have been centuries since the Gou’ald inhabited this planet but the people still remember. The tale of their slavery is passed down through stories so they’ll never forget.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Why exactly did the Gou’ald take people from Earth to begin with?”
“They believe themselves to be gods and what is a god without worshipers?” the archeologist responded, removing his glasses for a moment to hold them up to the light as he walked. “Ra, ruled over Earth more than five thousand years ago, until the people rose up against him.”
“Did they all take on the roles Egyptians gods?” Dean asked amused.
“Not just the roles, the entire cultural heritage,” Daniel continued, replacing his glasses on his nose. “And no, they’ve taken on the ‘gods’ of just about every culture on Earth. The Gou’ald are in every way parasitical; they’ll take whatever people, culture or technology will suit them best.”
Dean shrugged his good shoulder. “Whatever works I guess.”
The younger Winchester caught Teal’c’s brief glare out of the corner of his eye. Sam guessed the Jaffa didn’t approve of Dean’s glib tone but Sam could understand what his brother meant. Hunters used whatever worked, from whatever culture they found it in to take care of the threat at hand.
“Daniel!” a youthful voice shouted from further down the trail. It was the first true sign that they weren’t alone. The archeologist waved a greeting, his lips turning up in a wide smile as a boy came bounding down the path.
The boy wore simple clothes, all of which appeared to be made from the hides of animals. Well-worn boots rose up nearly to his knees, a slight cuff of fur around the top indicating that they were warmly lined. Thick black hair fell across the kid’s tanned face and Sam was struck with the surreal feeling that he was seeing one of the Inuit as they had been before their world and ways changed. It was one thing to hear that the culture existed as it once had on Earth; it was completely another to witness it, to feel like you’d stepped back in time.
“Hey, Pakak,” O’Neill said his voice far warmer than Sam had expected it to be.
“O’Neill!” the boy replied excitedly. “And you’ve brought friends!” he exclaimed, skidding to a halt in the center of the trail. Wide brown eyes swept over Sam and Dean; his face split in a huge smile.
“We did,” Daniel said, his tone sounding slightly surprised as he turned to the two hunters. “This is Dean and Sam,” he indicated each with a pointed finger. “Guys this is Pakak, Tiriaq’s youngest son,” the archeologist introduced.
“Hey there,” Dean greeted with a stupid smile Sam recognized all too well. “We come in peace.” Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s lame statement.
Pakak appeared not to even take notice as his eyes landed on the case slung over Sam’s shoulder. He darted past Jack and Daniel. “Have you brought more chocolate?!” he asked beaming up at the hunter, his hands immediately going for the latches on the case.
The hunter moved aside quickly, keeping a firm grasp on the case, not about to let the demon escape prematurely. He regarded the boy for a moment guessing his age to be no more than twelve or thirteen years old; he was precocious, to say the very least.
“Sorry Pakak, no chocolate this time,” Daniel apologized putting himself between the Winchesters and the boy. “We’re here to see your father,” he explained.
The boy beamed up at Daniel. “I’ll bring you to him,” he announced seriously, turning on the heels of his soft soled boots to quickly fall into pace beside the Colonel.
“Best keep a strong hold on that case,” the archeologist instructed as they began walking again. “He doesn’t mean any harm by it, Pakak is just incredibly curious.”
“Pakak,” Sam repeated the name thoughtfully, watching the boy as he was walking backwards in front of O’Neill so he could tell him some clearly exciting story. “Does his name mean something?”
Daniel chuckled for a moment. “One that gets into everything, I believe.”
“Ha!” Dean barked a laugh that was followed immediately by a wince. “How’d Tiriaq know?” he asked green eyes still following the young boy.
“He said, he just had a sense when Pakak was born,” Daniel replied with a smile.
Sam looked away from his brother and the archeologist, focusing his attention instead further down the trail where it looked like they were nearing the mouth. Bright sunlight washed out what lay beyond the field of trees, Sam’s hazel eyes struggling to adjust as he was still bathed in shade. Not far to his right, Sam could hear the sound of flowing water but was unable to see the river through the veil of green.
As Sam stepped out into the sunlight he raised a hand to shield his eyes, watching as details of his surroundings immerged. The path from the Stargate let out near a great expanse of water; the strong scent of salt told Sam it was part of an ocean and he briefly wondered what two moons would do for the tides. The river he’d heard through the trees met with the ocean not far to his right. Several men and young boys stood among the small rapids with slender spears in hand; a couple even turned to look as Pakak’s excited speech carrying across the open space.
The young boy took them to the left with a wide sweep of his arm and Sam could see the tribe’s encampment not far off. There were clustered of tepees all wrapped tightly in animal skins surrounding two larger structures which Sam thought might have been for large gatherings. Men and women stopped what they were doing as the group approached while children ran laughing among their parents, too caught up in their games to notice. Sam was a little surprised by the welcoming looks he received from the tribesmen; there wasn’t any of the hostility or distrust born of generations of oppression and lies. He supposed it would be altogether different if they had been Gou’ald.
“How would our regular clothes possibly draw more attention?” Dean asked sarcastically so only Sam would hear.
Sam smirked but didn’t respond when he caught site of the tent flap on one of the larger structure sweep aside. The man who stepped out carried the air of respect with him; Sam noticed the subtle change in the people around him and could only assume the man was the tribal Chief. He was not an exceptionally tall man, probably no more than five foot seven, but he possessed a commanding presence. Somehow he even managed not to look up at them as he watched them approached.
“Chief,” Pakak greeted respectfully. “SG-1 has returned.” He couldn’t entirely contain his excitement as he bounced slightly on his toes.
“Chief,” Jack said, extending his hand which the man clasped firmly.
“O’Neill,” the chief responded in a deep rumbling voice.
Daniel quickly stepped forward. “Chief Tuuluuwaq.”
Sam observed Daniel’s tone and mannerisms as he greeted the tribal chief; the changes were subtle but Sam thought it must have come as second nature to the archeologist to be deferent to the leaders they came across on their travels. Sam wished that were a talent his brother possessed; it could possibly keep them out of the ‘usual’ sticky situations.
Looking to his brother then, Sam saw Dean’s eyes were traveling quickly over the tribesmen who were creating a loose circle around them, before moving back to the chief. Sam was so accustomed to reading his brother it came as second nature. Despite the ease with which SG-1 greeted the tribe, Sam could tell Dean was still wary of it all. He suspected that had as much to do with Dean being injured and without weapon as it did being completely out of his element on an alien planet.
“Chief Tuuluuwaq,” Daniel said again, drawing Sam’s attention back to the head of the group. The archeologist was half turned towards them; the focus of his attention however remained on the chief. “We’ve brought Dean and Sam Winchester to speak with Tiriaq,” Daniel introduced, motioning with his hand for both of them to step forward.
The younger Winchester stepped up, lips turning in an easy smile. Aware of the multiple eyes watching them curiously, Sam gripped the latch on the hard shelled case just to be sure it couldn’t be opened even by mistake. “It’s an honor to meet you,” he said after a beat, feeling silly for saying it but unsure what else he could.
“Chief,” Dean said, voice rough with the edge of respect as he also extended his hand to Tuuluuwaq.
“You wish to speak with our Shaman?” the Chief asked with a raised brow.
Dean gave a barely perceptible nod. “You’re familiar with the Kigatilik?”
“You know of the Mahaha?” Tuuluuwaq asked with a look of surprise.
“Still sounds ridiculous, even when he says it,” Jack pointed out quietly to Teal’c.
Sam nodded once but Dean beat him to the answer. “Been up close’n personal more than once,” he shifted his left arm unconsciously.
“The People of the Claw are a very powerful weapon,” the Chief continued seriously, black eyes looking over each of them.
“Wait,” Sam took another step towards the Chief. “You use the Kigatilik as a weapon?” he asked unable to conceal his disbelief.
“The Kigatilik is a powerful spirit to be respected,” a new voice spoke up.
Sam watched as the men and women parted to allow a wry man to step forward. A heavy necklace fell across the man’s chest, bridging the gap between the tanned vest he wore, embroidered with a multitude of symbols Sam didn’t recognize. He noted absently that the man wasn’t wearing anything on his feet; dark soles flexing lightly against the smooth soil. “Kigatilik protects this village,” he replied solemnly.
Dean pulled his left arm from his coat pocket, cradling his elbow with his right hand. “Isn’t that like playing with fire?” he asked bluntly.
“Dean, Sam, this is Tiriaq,” Daniel introduced quickly, though Sam had already come to that conclusion, noting the respect the tribesmen had for him, not to mention Tuuluuwaq.
The Shaman looked at both of them carefully, sharp eyes piercing Sam with a knowing glance. “You,” he stated pointing a finger from Sam to Dean as he took a step closer. “You are of the Hania,” he said, a smile turning up the corner of his lips.
-Hania?- Sam wondered sharing a glance with his brother, while a ripple of mutters and surprised whispers broke out around them. Dean gave him a one shouldered shrug, looking back to Tiriaq.
“Hania…Hania,” Daniel repeated as though trying to remind himself. “That’s Spirit Warrior,” he said, eyes bright as he looked at Sam and Dean.
The Winchesters shared another look. “Excuse me?” Sam said, ducking his head a little as he looked the Shaman in the eyes.
“You put the spirits to rest,” he said knowingly. “As your father taught you, you fight what can not always be seen.”
Sam caught the way Dean stiffened at the mention of their father. “How’d you know that?” he asked voice rough.
Tiriaq looked up at Dean with a genuine smile. “I listen to the Spirits,” he replied simply.
“What do they say?” Sam asked quickly. He wasn’t sure what to think in that moment. Was it possible that whatever spirits resided on this world could communicate through the void to Earth? Did any distance really exist for them? Or was it just as likely that someone from Stargate Command contacted the tribe before they’d even left? Whatever it was, Sam knew his view of the world was forever changed, leaving him feeling both impossibly big and remarkably small.
The Shaman was silent for a moment, standing a little straighter. “You have traveled a great distance,” he began and Sam got the distinct impression he wasn’t referring to the distance between planets. “You are exhausted,” Tiriaq looked knowingly at Dean, “and wounded.”
Sam had to bit hard on his lip to keep from smiling or worse yet laughing as Dean straightened up pointedly but couldn’t completely hide his wince.
“You have brought Kigatilik, sealed by the blood of my ancestors,” Tiriaq continued.
“You know of blood seals?” Sam asked, somewhat surprised, though he realized he shouldn’t have been; it had been Tiriaq’s ancestors who originally created it on the artifact.
The Shaman nodded his head.
“Good,” Dean said taking a half a step forward. “Shouldn’t be a problem destroying the thing once the seal’s gone,” the last was said more to Sam than anyone else.
“No.”
All eyes were on Tiriaq once again. He stood perfectly still, shoulders drawn back slightly as he regarded them with a stern expression. “The Mahaha will not be destroyed.” The words were firm, purposeful, leaving no room for argument; even Jack seemed too stunned by the Shaman’s sudden change in demeanor to smile at the demon’s unfortunate name.
No surprise to Sam, it was Dean who spoke first. “No offense,” he began, “but even if these demons are used as tools to protect your tribe, this one’s too far gone. It’s rabid. Its killing just for the sake of it and you’re all on the menu.”
Sam pulled a hand through his hair, wishing-not for the first time-that Dean possessed an ounce more tact. Tiriaq didn’t seem the least bit put off by Dean’s outburst. He calmly leaned towards one of the tribesmen, speaking softly into his ear before looking back to Dean. The man moved off with a respectful nod.
“The fault does not lie with the Kigatilik,” he explained in patient tones, “but with the men who misused the power.”
“Then what’d you plan on doing?” Sam asked quickly, before Dean could speak again.
“I will put the spirit to rest,” Tiriaq replied simply.
Dean gave his head a slight shake. “It’s a demon,” he stated flatly as though that should have said it all.
The Shaman looked at Dean with a raised brow. “Yes,” he said, tone more than implying he saw no problem with this. Tiriaq turned then, casting a glance back over his shoulder. “Follow me.”
Sam glanced at his brother. “Demon’s a demon,” Dean muttered, “better off dead.”
“Let’s hope his ways easier,” Sam returned just as softly.
Thanks for reading!
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