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dragonfly11Author: dragonfly
Genre: h/c, drama, humor, crossover (Supernatural and Stargate SG1)
Rating: K+
Spoilers: Season 7 Supernatural
Summary: Just your ordinary Christmas story with ghosts and claw-wielding, flesh-eating monsters. Sam Winchester and Daniel Jackson whump with, of course, protective Dean Winchester and Jack O'Neill.
A/N: This is my very first crossover ever and I've written it in record time (for me). Takes place current Supernatural (post 7.10) and season three Stargate SG1. (I know, timelines are off. Just pretend, if you must, that its an AU) I also took liberties on Jack's cabin. Let's pretend he remodeled after this fic :) Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Thank you sid, devra, jo and lynne for your ever present pompoms and help!
COMPLETE
A Very Supernatural and SG-1 Christmas
The snow was deep, heavy. The cold wind biting and steady. Dean Winchester pulled his brother closer and tightened his grip around his waist. Thankfully, Sam had insisted they wear their heavy boots and get parkas. No matter how ridiculous they looked.
“Come on, Sam,” he reassured, “I think I see a cabin up ahead.”
Sam’s head lolled on his shoulder, but he continued to move one foot in front of the other. Just barely, though. It had snowed over a foot in the past hour—on top of the foot that was already there, and Dean was slowly dragging both their asses towards what he hoped was a place with medical supplies.
SPN~*~SG1
“Are you sure this is a good idea, Jack?” Daniel mumbled miserably from his awkwardly hunched position against the passenger window.
Colonel Jack O’Neill glanced worriedly over at his friend. He had to be uncomfortable, but the wounds on his back didn’t give him much stretching-out options. “What are you talkin’ about, Daniel? This is a great--” he jerked the wheel hard when they nearly slid off the back road, “idea.”
The snow was falling fast, but they were only five miles from the cabin and Operation Christmas/Convalesce and they would make it. They’ve been through worse.
And some of them just recently.
SG1~*~SPN
Dean didn’t bother wasting time to pick the lock. Door flying open as he kicked it in, he half carried, half dragged his brother inside. Sam’s blood was coating his hands and it was getting harder to keep a grip on him. They were barely five feet inside when Sam collapsed and took Dean with him. He tried to ease his fall as much as he could, but his own legs felt like jelly and his little brother had three inches and at least twenty more pounds of lean muscle on him.
“Okay, it’s okay, lemme see,” Dean breathed as he unzipped Sam’s coat with shaking hands.
Sam shuddered under his touch. “Th-the door, Dean.”
Dean barely gave it a glance. The door wouldn’t keep what they were running from out, even if he hadn’t kicked it in. “Don’t worry. I know I got a headshot in. We’re the last thing on its mind.” He knew it was a lie. He had hit it, yes, but…it had Sam’s scent now. The scent of his blood. And it wouldn’t stop until it had his brother for dinner, or Dean killed it—which would come first.
He grimaced when he pulled the blood soaked jacket and shirt away. The wound was deep. Really deep. And it was bleedin’ like a bitch. “Damnit, Sammy.”
SPN~*~SG1
If the door hanging wide open wasn’t a sign that everything wasn’t kosher to Jack, the blood trail in the snow sure was. He glanced over at Daniel who had an eyebrow raised. “Too early for Santa,” the younger man drawled tiredly.
SPN~*~SG1
As low and as quickly as he could in the deep snow, Jack ran to the side of his cabin. He glanced down at the blood trail. Somebody was hurt, and hurt bad. But he also had someone helping him.
He held up two fingers as Daniel appeared behind him and motioned for him to go around back. Before the archaeologist could do so, however, Jack grabbed his coat sleeve, stopping him, and tugged his zipper the rest of the way closed. Nodding approvingly he then patted him on the cheek and jerked his head in a get going manner. Daniel just blinked at him…then wordlessly turned to head around back. Jack didn’t miss the hiss when his friend ducked below a window with Jack’s spare weapon. He winced in sympathy. Daniel didn’t need this. He should be warmly cocooned in copious amounts of blankets while Jack forced a Simpsons marathon on him.
He was supposed to be relaxing.
He was supposed to be healing.
He was supposed to be forgetting.
Damnit.
Making sure the safety on his sidearm was off, the leader of the elite SG-1 team quietly leapt onto the porch. Peering around the doorway he saw a man lying on the floor, but whoever helped him in there wasn’t in sight.
Weapon raised, Jack inched inside and whipped to the right around the refrigerator—to be greeted with a weapon being pointed right back at him. “You’re a little tall for an elf, aren’t you?” he quipped.
SG1~*~SPN
Both men stood straight with their weapons raised and steady.
“No, he’s the elf,” Dean replied coolly, canting his head towards Sam, “I’m the one with the gun and the attitude.”
“Really? See, I thought you were the one I was about to shoot for breaking and entering.”
“Oh, trust me, you don’t wanna to do that,” came another smooth reply.
“No?” Jack’s weapon never wavered. “Care to enlighten me?”
“Because despite the fact that you’re pissing me off right now, I’m gonna save your life.”
“Jack,” Daniel called before the Air Force colonel could respond. He nudged the sawed-off shot gun that had fallen from Sam’s grip further from his reach. Then crouching down he placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. “This looks pretty bad.”
Dean’s jaw clenched. It took all he had not to glance over at his brother. He knew the second he took his eyes off the man in front of him, he’d been in for a fight, and he’d need to save his energy for later. They all would. “Listen…believe me….don’t, I don’t really give a damn,” though his voice was hard, his eyes showed a weariness that was getting harder to hide the past few weeks, “but we’re all in danger here and the sooner you let me help my brother, the sooner we can save your lives.”
“And what, pray tell,” Jack asked, “are you planning on protecting us from with my salt?”
A look of both annoyance and embarrassment crossed Dean’s face. The hand holding a towel for his brother and a box of salt twitched. “Actually, you’d be surprised what a little salt can do. Now,” he tightened his grip on his weapon, “are you gonna let me help my brother or….”
“Alright, just take it easy, will ya?” Jack warned. He recognized the desperation he saw in the another man’s eyes. He saw the same look in the mirror just last week. The kid was seconds from going through anything and anyone he had to to get to the person who needed him. He motioned with his own weapon. “First, drop it nice and slow.”
After studying the older man for a moment—torn between wanting to trust him and having no choice but to, Dean removed his finger from the trigger and lowered it to the floor. Raising his hands slightly upwards—one still holding the salt and towel—he then slowly walked backwards until he was at his brother’s side. Then practically falling to his knees, “Hey buddy,” he quickly put the salt aside and pulled a small flask out of his pocket, “how you holdin’ up?”
“Just…peachy…” Sam panted through the pain.
“That good, huh?” Dean replied grimly, uncapping the flask.
“Umm…I’m not sure that’s exactly what he needs right now,” Daniel said, eyeing the flask, hand still resting on Sam’s shoulder.
It made Jack nervous. He still had no idea who the hell these guys were. “Daniel, give ‘em some space will ya.” He motioned for him to move back. For cryin’ out loud he had already put his gun away, too.
“It’s not us he needs to worry about,” Dean commented distractedly while checking his brother’s wound.
“Yeah, well, if you don’t mind, I’ll be the judge of that,” Jack replied, tucking Dean’s 9mil against the small of his back.
“And it’s only holy water,” Dean answered Daniel.
“So…what? You’re blessing him now?” But Jack actually looked worried as he stepped closer, gun still out but resting now at his hip. With his other hand he dug into his pocket for his phone. He immediately lowered it again when he saw there were no bars. “Storm’s blocking what little reception we have up here. Can he be moved?”
In reply, Sam grunted and gripped Dean’s sleeve when the holy water was poured over his wound. “Easy, Sammy,” Dean held him down.
“Uuuh…” Jack and Daniel uttered simultaneously.
“Is that supposed to be…doing…that?” Jack waved his hand down at the sizzling wound, walking backwards towards the door. He shoved an end table in front of it, closing it the best he could. Then he glanced around outside between the curtains before turning back to the intrepid intruders who were looking at each other with worry.
“What is it?” Daniel asked, noticing the tension.
“Not…” Sam’s breath hitched, “not a biloko?”
Dean swallowed hard, worry dark in his eyes.
“A loco-what?
“What’s a biloko?” Daniel asked, pronouncing it correctly, unlike Jack. He took a closer look at Sam’s side. “Something with claws I’m guessing.” His hand clenched and unclenched subconsciously.
“Yeah,” Dean rasped. “Good guess.”
SG1~*~SPN
“Daniel? A word?” Jack walked over and after picking up the saw-off, he carefully pulled his friend up with a hand under his armpit. Walking down the hallway, “You okay?” he asked, opening the closet door and placing the gun inside.
“Well, let’s just say I’m doing better than him.” Arms crossed self-consciously, Daniel pointed a finger in Sam’s direction as Jack got an arm full of blankets out and handed them to him.
“Uh huh,” he responded unconvinced as he grabbed the first aid kit. Closing the closet door, he tucked the large kit under his armpit and with his empty hand—one was still holding his gun—he felt Daniel’s forehead.
Daniel looked up at it owlishly until Jack removed it. “Satisfied?”
“For now.”
“So, how are we going to get them help?” he asked wearily. “Carter and Teal’c won’t even be headed this way for hours yet…assuming they’re even still able to come.”
“To be honest, I’m more concerned about getting us help, Daniel. Who the hell knows who or what this biloko guy…thing is, or if they have more friends out there. And whether you want to admit it or not, DannyBoy, you’re running out of steam.”
Daniel looked indignant. “I have plenty of steam.”
Jack raised an eyebrow and Daniel shook his head dismissing the conversation all together. “Listen…Jack, I don’t think they’re a danger to us. He clearly just wants to help his brother.”
“Yeah, well, last I checked, Daniel your “judging of character” seems to be on the fritz.” Jack regretted it the moment it left his mouth. His shoulders fell under the weight of his words. “Daniel….”
Smiling self-deprecatingly, Daniel looked down. “Yeah,” he replied solemnly, “I guess you’re right.” Nodding to himself, he then jerked a thumb back at the boys. “I’m just gonna…”
“Daniel…” But his friend had turned and walked away.
SPN~*~SG1
“Sam?” Dean’s heart skipped a beat. Palming his brother’s cheek he rubbed his thumb against it. “Sammy?”
Sam’s gaze remained distant, lost…scared.
Fear washing over him, “Saaam,” Dean got up in his face and grabbed at his collar. “Sam, don’t do this,” he begged.
No response.
“Is he…” Daniel asked worriedly after walking back into the room.
“He’s fine,” Dean snapped, then, “Come on, Sam. Stone number one, remember?” He searched his brother face. Nothing. “Sam!” He jostled him slightly, desperately.
His little brother finally blinked and took an unsteady breath. Moving his feet restlessly, he looked up at Dean with wet, confused eyes.
“Okay?” Dean asked, hopeful, breathless. “You with me?”
Nodding, Sam swallowed thickly.
Bowing his head, Dean let out a sigh of relief. “Good,” he met his brother’s eyes again, “because in case you haven’t noticed, there’s no room at the Inn.”
“Yeah,” Sam breathed shakily. “Thanks.”
Unsure of what he just witnessed, but suddenly feeling breathless himself, Daniel furrowed his brow and cleared his throat quietly, trying to shake off the unbidden memories washing over him. When that didn’t work, he closed his eyes and scratched at his temple, “Uh…” he forced himself into the now, “Uh…may I?” he opened his eyes and gestured his intention of tucking a folded blanket under Sam’s head.
Finally prying his eyes from Sam’s, Dean looked up and nodded.
“By the way,” Daniel said, carefully slipping a blanket under Sam’s head, “as I’m sure you’ve heard, I’m Daniel.”
“Dean,” the green-eyed man replied, “and the sasquatch bleeding all over your floor is Sam.”
Looking up at Daniel, Sam offered him a weak smile.
“So, you gonna tell me what happened to your brother?” Jack walked back into the living room and handed Dean the kit. “I’m assuming you weren’t out hunting for reindeer considering your choice of firearms.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna need those back, by the way,” Dean replied, opening the kit.
“Yeaaaahsuuure,” Jack drawled. “That’s not likely to happen.”
“Dean…go,” Sam urged tiredly. “I got this.”
“Sam, you can barely stay conscious,” Dean admonished, “and this is gonna need stitches now. It’s bleedin’ too damn much.”
As if proving his point, Sam’s hazel eyes slipped closed briefly before he forced them open again. “It can wait. Get ‘em safe.”
“Sam….”
“Help me up.”
“Obviously he’s taken a good hit to the head, too,” Jack commented before he even noticed the blood smeared across his temple, hiding under long brown bangs that reminded him of Daniel’s once upon a time. “What he get hit with?”
“A tree,” Dean replied in a grim, matter-of-fact way, grabbing items out of the medical kit. “Listen, while I’m stitching him up, I need you two to do a few things.”
“Like?” Daniel immediately offered, but Jack wasn’t as accommodating. “Rather demanding for someone not holding a weapon, aren’t you?” He bounced his own off his thigh.
“That’s just part of my charm,” Dean grinned cockily up at him. Then turning back to Sam, “Ready?” After a nod, he poured alcohol from the kit over the tear in his brother’s side. Sam hissed. “Easy…”
Watching them, Jack grimaced. “Oh, that’s what they’re calling it these days?” he finally responded to Dean’s comment. Then taking a breath, “Look, as exciting as all of this is….”
“Okay, I get it. You want answers…” Dean said, threading his brother’s skin back together as if he’s been doing it his entire life.
Daniel watched with morbid fascination as Sam merely gripped his older brother’s jacket as the needle was pulled through his flesh. “Uh…don’t…aren’t you gonna numb that?” he mumbled more to himself than to anyone else.
“…but I don’t have time to explain right now,” Dean continued. “You’re just gonna have to trust me.”
“You broke my door,” Jack exclaimed.
Dean glanced up at him and did a double take. Face falling and hardening, “Hate to break it to ya, buddy, but the day is young.”
SG1~*~SPN
Jack spun around to find a pale woman wearing what looked like animal hide standing behind him. “Hell…oo. How’d…?” Her body flickered in and out like a bad hologram…then she charged at him screaming. “Woah,” Jack stepped back and aimed his weapon just as Dean came up from behind him and…threw salt straight from the box at her. The salt slashed through her like a sword and she disappeared.
“Dean,” Sam panted, trying to sit up. “It must be close.”
“It?” Daniel asked, eyes wide, eyebrows raised. “Oh, and by the way…what was that?”
“That was a spirit.”
“Fireplace.” Sam finally made it into a sitting position, but he was leaning heavily to the side.
Dean went straight to the fireplace and grabbed two fire irons. He handed one to Daniel. “Iron works just as well as salt.”
Daniel took it like it was a rare artifact.
“That is what you’re running from?” Jack yelled.
“Uh, no actually,” Dean knelt down in front of his brother to finish the last few stitches, “that was a victim of what we’re running from.” He cut the needle from the thread and placed a sterile dressing over the stitches.
Daniel was still holding up the fire iron—which was actually a small shovel, like he just learned that it held the secrets of The Nile, “I’m, I’m sorry, we are talking about an actual spirit? A ghost?”
“Yeah,” Dean tossed the rest of the medical supplies out of the way and stood with the other fire iron. “Sorry. Sammy’s a little tired or he’d do his Whoopi impersonation.” He received an annoyed “Will you stop it” look from his brother on the floor.
“Okay, alright,” Jack held up a hand and slashed it through the air as Dean walked over to the window and pushed the curtains aside, “assuming I believe you…”
“Saw it with your own eyes, dude.”
“…and I’m not suffering some kind of…extremely elaborate…stroke, what does the thing want and how did you kill it with my salt?”
“It didn’t kill her, it just bought us some time. Actually, which begs the question; salt. Do you have anymore?” He half turned to look at Jack.
“Kosher, rock, or sea?”
Looking back out the window, Dean’s body stiffened. “…and about my gun.”
-
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Date: 27 Dec 2011 03:48 pm (UTC)SG1-SPN (ie the PB&J verse)is one of my favourite crossovers good choice.
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Date: 28 Dec 2011 05:46 pm (UTC)very interesting start, thank you for sharing !!
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