Title: Dues to Pay
Author: Arenas
Fandoms: Supernatural/Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: All, but features Sam, Dean, Jack, Ianto specifically. Implied Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG-13 now for language and graphic violence
Warnings: Spoilers for "In My Time of Dying" (SPN) and "They Keep Killing Suzie (TW), gory violence, possible character death, slash (Jack/Ianto)
Disclaimer: I am but a college student who is too poor to pay for my own tuition. I own nada.
Summary: The Winchester brothers are sent to NJ because of another of Sam's mysterious visions, this time involving members of an elite force by the name of Torchwood and a monster that might be too powerful to handle.
A/N: First fic for both fandoms.
Prologue
"Gwen!"
"Here!"
"Ianto!"
No answer, just too-loud breathing in his ears—his own breathing—as uncomfortable thoughts ran through his mind about the whereabouts of the Welshman. He scanned the forest with a sharp eye and increasing worry. "Ianto!" If he didn't return, there was going to be some hell to—
Jack Harkness whirled, long coat swirling about his legs when he heard the strangled gasp. The dark-haired man stumbled through the trees, nearly tripping on his shoes and tumbling to the ground. "Sir!"
He rushed forward, catching Ianto under the arms before the other man really did land on his face. Captain Jack sank down on his haunches to make things easier on his back and arms, and proceeded to rearrange the weakened Ianto. There was a brief stirring of pine needles as Gwen paused nearby, gun out. He spared a moment for a bit of mental praise.
"How bad is it?" she whispered. He noticed the brown eyes flicking repeatedly back to check Ianto's white-as-a-sheet complexion, even as she scanned the perimeter. Jack didn't exactly blame her: Ianto looked anything but healthy.
"Out with it, Ianto, what happened?"
The breath still gusted in and out of his mouth at a frantic pace and Jack glimpsed far more of the whites of Ianto's eyes than he cared to. The man was trembling. It was a very long and very tense silence before the stuttered word passed Ianto's lips. "R-reapers."
It didn't have much of an impact on Gwen, but Jack shook his head furiously. "Nuh uh, Ianto, what really happened?"
Gwen frowned, a hint of disgust tainting her expression as she finally lost the good soldier attitude. "Jack, why not? What are we hunting? What are reapers?"
"It's not a reaper! Ianto, what did you see?" Jack snapped, slapping him gently on the cheek. The Welshman's head tilted backwards, his pupils growing progressively larger until they nearly engulfed the entire iris. A look of loathing curled his lips and he flung himself out of Jack's grip, landing with a thump on the moist ground. He was on his feet in a second, whacking the dust and pine needles out of his clothes in a sad attempt to tidy himself up.
"Ianto!" Gwen called feebly.
"No," he snapped. His hands migrated upwards so that his fingers could attack his mussed up hair and disentangle the stray twigs. Despite the goofy appearance, his point was made. "I know what I saw; I saw a reaper!" He tromped back towards the line of trees, keeping his gaze trained on the ground beneath his feet.
"Ianto…was it Owen?"
The figure near the trees stopped abruptly, the momentum from his pacing causing him to rock back and forth. Even Jack looked grim at Gwen's question as he got back to his feet. The girl offered a sheepish expression in return that promised a thorough explanation in a safer environment. Jack opted to say nothing and concentrate on helping Ianto first.
Gwen took a tentative step forward, trying to engage the dark-haired man in conversation. "Ianto, if it's about what Owen said, you don't have to listen to him! He was just kidding, you know that. He just gets a bit full of himself is—"
"IANTO!"
Jack leaped forward, shoving Gwen to the ground. He covered two strides before the creature fully emerged. Another two strides, and it had launched itself into the air, leathery wings snapped open to slow its descent. One step, it had landed on top of the Welshman; another step, the gaping mouth in its chest with the multitude of razor teeth had closed around Ianto's torso.
"IANTO!" Jack screamed again. The hand gun was snug in his palm and firing shot after shot at the demon. It barely noticed: it had wrapped its wings about itself for a more private feeding. When Gwen started firing—too little too late—the creature raised its head and issued a moist hiss from its chest. Those angry, red eyes set wide in the black face were narrowed at Captain Jack Harkness.
The demon got roughly to its feet, but the scene seemed to unravel in slow motion. The lower half of Ianto Jones that was perched in those jaws slid downwards, creating jagged rents in the clothes. The lower body finally fell out of the bloody mouth and thumped to the ground, sending a small puff of dead needles into the air.
When the creature leaped into the air and winged away, Jack was out of bullets, on his knees, and deaf to Gwen Cooper's frantic shakes; all that seemed to be registering stimuli were his blank, roving eyes. The dull blue gaze was locked on a particular shadow within the darkness of the forest. The dark form disappeared, and Jack got slowly to his feet.
"Jack, come on!"
Gwen continued to babble, trying to get his attention so they could high tail it back to the motel. Jack's gaze never left that spot in the woods. "A man."
"What? Jack, what did you see?"
"A man did this to Ianto. And when I find him, I am going to feed him to his pet bit by bit until he—"
"What did you see? Sammy? Sammy, what'd you see?"
Sam Winchester gasped, arms flailing for a hold on something solid and real. His fingers encountered the familiar, worn leather of the Impala bench and the digits immediately curled around it in a death grip. He was still panting and trying to get his vitals back to normal and Dean was already homing in on the vision. That wasn't cool.
"Sammy, you okay?" Dean had that look on, the one where he was pretending to look concerned but casual when he was actually pretty weirded out. Even Dean had noticed that that vision wasn't right; that just made Sam feel so much better. He dragged his hand down his face to try to ease the throb of the customary headache and took another deep breath.
"Uh…yeah, Dean. Fine." Fine. That was funny. Sam couldn't remember "fine" anymore in a not completely bat-shit crazy context.
"So…?" At his brother's slightly befuddled look, Dean groaned. "Dude, it's not like we're not just gonna drop all our shit and take care of your vision. Much as I like arguing, I try and avoid the ones I haven't got a shot in hell of winning. Can we just skip to the part where you tell me what damsel's got her panties up her crack now?"
Sam had just seen a man get bitten messily in half by…something, and Dean was cranky from not yet procuring a decent cup of coffee. Sam's lips thinned as he exhaled heavily through his nose. Some days, he would rather have Dean be the one with the headaches; then he figured that it probably wouldn't be fair to the rest of the world when it would have to rely on Dean to act on the visions. Definitely not fair. So bit his tongue, brought up his hands, and massaged his forehead wearily. "We're going to south Jersey. Woodbury."
"Because…?"
"Because a group of English tourists are going to be attacked by a giant flying animal. One of them claimed to see a Reaper."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Like they'd know a Reaper from a spirit."
"They might be hunters, Dean. Two of them seemed at least slightly familiar with the idea of Reapers. If they are hunters, all the more reason we have to save them."
"If they are hunters, all the more reason they can take care of themselves," Dean muttered to himself. Sam didn't have the heart to rebuke him, not when he was still trying clear his head. In a more conversational tone, Dean asked, "Any particular reason they're in New Jersey? Not exactly the first stop I'd make when visiting the US."
"You'd be lucky to visit at all, what with you and planes," Sam retorted. His head still ached like hell, even when cradled in his cool palms. He barely saw the finger come up and point at the spot between his eyes.
"Watch it. He didn't mean it, really." Sam heard the rasp of skin on dry leather, and assumed a tender moment between man and car. A moment Sam wasn't in the mood for.
"So we're going?" the younger Winchester sighed.
"We have a choice?"
Sam grimaced as he made an attempt to shrug. It just ended up sending a fresh wave of pain through his skull, so he removed his hands and rested his head gently against the glass of the window. He just hoped that the bad vibes he was picking up were nothing more than a residual sickness to Dean's shmoopy affection for the Impala.
