Title: A Very Supernatural and SG1 Christmas
Author: dragonfly
Genre: action/adventure, drama, angst, hurt/comfort, family, gen, crossover, humor, bromance
Characters: Sam and Dean Winchester, Jack O'Neill, Daniel Jackson
Summary: (Updated 12/23/2017) 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. Spoilers for SPN 7x10. Circa season 3 Stargate SG1.
A/N: An SG1 prequel to this story is on the way. "Celebrate Me Home"
SG1~*~SPN
The snow was deep and heavy; the cold wind biting and steady.
Dean Winchester pulled his younger brother closer and tightened the grip he had around his waist. Thankfully, Sam had insisted they wear their heavy boots and get parkas—no matter how ridiculous they looked. Still, they had been out there for far too long and their reserves were running dangerously close to empty.
"Come on, Sam," he encouraged. "Just a little further. I think I see a cabin up ahead."
Sam could barely keep his head up, but he doggedly continued to move one foot in front of the other. It had snowed over a foot in the past hour—on top of the foot that was already there. Progress was slow, and in Sam's case; painful. Dean could only hope that the structure they were slowly dragging their asses towards had medical supplies.
And would be a good place to make a stand.
SPN~*~SG1
"Are you sure this is a good idea, Jack?" Daniel said miserably from his awkwardly hunched position against the passenger window.
Not for the first time, Colonel Jack O'Neill casted a worried look over at his friend. He had to be uncomfortable, but the wounds on his back didn't leave him with many options for stretching out. "What are you talkin' about, Daniel? This is a great—" he jerked the wheel hard to the left when they nearly slid off the snow covered 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 picking the lock.
Door flying open as he kicked it in, he half carried/half dragged his brother inside. They were barely ten feet in when Sam collapsed and took Dean with him. He tried to ease his fall as much as he could, but his own legs were weak from exhaustion and his little brother had three inches and at least twenty additional pounds of lean muscle on him.
"Okay, it's okay, lemme see." Dean unzipped Sam's coat with shaking, bloody hands.
"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 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 material aside. The wound was deep. It was really deep. And it was bleedin' like a son of a bitch. "Damnit, Sammy."
SPN~*~SG1
If the door hanging wide open wasn't a sign that everything wasn't exactly kosher to Jack, the blood trail in the snow sure was. He looked over at Daniel who had his eyebrows raised. "Too early for Santa."
SPN~*~SG1
As low to the ground and as quickly as he could in the deep snow, Jack moved to the side of his cabin. He glanced down at the blood trail. Somebody was hurt, and hurt badly. 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 and tugged Daniel's zipper up the rest of the way. Nodding his approval, he then patted him on the cheek and jerked his head in a get going manner.
Daniel just blinked at him…then wordlessly started towards the back. Jack didn't miss the hiss when his friend ducked below the 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 had helped him inside wasn't in sight.
Weapon raised, Jack inched inside and pivoted to the right around the refrigerator. He was greeted by a weapon being pointed right back at him. "You're a little tall for an elf."
SG1~*~SPN
Both men stood straight and calm with their weapons raised and steady.
"No, he's the elf," Dean replied casually, canting his head towards Sam. "I'm the one with the gun and the attitude."
"Really?" Jack wasn't impressed. "See, I thought you were the one I was about to shoot for breaking and entering."
"Oh, trust me, you don't wanna 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 out as he nudged the sawed-off shotgun that had fallen from Sam's grip further from his reach. "This looks pretty bad." Crouching down, he placed a tentative hand over the trembling shoulder.
Dean clenched his jaw. It took all he had not to look over at his brother. He knew the second he took his eyes off the man in front of him, he'd be in for a fight; and he needed 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, there was a weariness he felt down to the bones that had been getting harder to hide over 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 inquired, "are you planning on protecting us from with my salt?"
A look of both annoyance and embarrassment flashed across 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 the grip he had on his weapon, "you gonna let me help my brother or—"
"Alright, just take it easy, will ya?" Jack recognized the desperation he saw in the other 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 the weapon 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 set the salt aside and pulled a small flask out of his coat pocket, "how you holdin' up?"
Though wracked with pain and having trouble focusing, "I'm good," Sam forced out.
Dean applied pressure to the wound while uncapping the flask with his other hand. Sam groaned and tried hard not to push Dean's hand away. "No you're not, but you will be."
"Umm…" Hand still resting on Sam's shoulder in silent support, Daniel eyed the flask dubiously.
"Daniel, give 'em some space will ya." Jack motioned for him to move back. It made him nervous that he was so close. They had no idea who the hell these guys were.
"It's not us he needs to worry about," Dean told Jack, still concentrating on his brother's wound.
"Yeah, well, if you don't mind, I'll be the judge of that." He tucked Dean's 9mil against the small of his back. "Thirsty?" he eyed the flask.
"Always, but this here," he gave the silver container a quick shake with a flick of his wrist, "is just holy water." Looking down at his brother, "You ready?" he asked.
"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 lowered it again when he saw what he already knew: there were no bars. "Storm's blocking what little reception we have up here. Can he be—?"
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 closed it as best as he could and shoved an end table in front of it. Then he scanned 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 sawed-off, he carefully helped 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 armful of blankets out and handed them to him.
Jack grabbed the first aid kit next. Then closing the closet door, he tucked the large kit under his armpit and 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 concerned and weary. "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. His issues weren't exactly top priority right now. "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 you haven't exactly been a very good judge of character as of late." 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 whispered solemnly, "I guess you're right." Nodding to himself, he then jerked a thumb back at the boys. "I'm just gonna.…"
"Daniel, wait." But his friend had already turned and walked away. Jack sighed. This trip was not at all going according to plan.
SPN~*~SG1
"Sam?" Palming his brother's cheek, Dean rubbed his thumb back and forth across the cool flesh. "Sammy?"
Sam's gaze remained distant, lost…scared.
"Hey, hey, hey." Fear washing over him, "Saaam," Dean got up in his face and gripped his collar. "Sam, don't do this," he begged.
No response.
Walking back into the room, Daniel froze. "Is he…?"
"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 legs restlessly, he looked up at Dean with wet, confused eyes.
"Okay?" Dean asked, breathless with hope. "You with me?"
Nodding, Sam swallowed hard—unable yet to find his voice.
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 had 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. "Uh…" Scratching at his temple, he forced his thoughts to gather in the present and not back there…not there. "Uh…may I?" He gestured his intention to tuck a folded blanket under Sam's head.
Finally prying his eyes from Sam's, Dean looked up and nodded.
"By the way," Daniel knelt, and ignoring his own body's protests, carefully slipped the blanket in place, "though I'm sure you've probably already heard, I'm Daniel."
"Dean," the green-eyed man replied, "and the sasquatch bleeding all over your floor is Sam."
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 Fraiser Approved First Aid 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 warned, opening the kit.
"Yeaaaahsuuure, that's not likely to happen."
"Dean…go," Sam urged, exhaustion thick in his voice. "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 them 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, grim and matter-of-fact as he grabbed items out of the medical kit. It was a good kit—almost as good as the one they'd lost in the snow. He intended to go back for it at some point. It was practically a family heirloom. "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 and gasped. "Easy, buddy, almost done."
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—"
"I get it. You want answers…." Dean said, threading his brother's skin back together as if he'd 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 muttered 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 clothing 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's eyes were wide, his 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 to the fireplace and grabbed two fire irons. He handed one to Daniel. "Iron works just as well as salt."
Daniel took it in his hands like it was a rare artifact.
"That's what you're running from?" Jack squawked, incredulous.
"Uh, no actually," Dean knelt down next to 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 had 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 that 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."
CHAPTER TWO
"It's here, isn't it?" Sam was forcing himself to his feet. He swayed dangerously, but somehow managed to stay upright.
"What's here?" Jack and Daniel asked in chorus.
"Yeah, but it's on our territory now." Dean walked back over to Sam and with a hand under his elbow helped him to the couch. "It won't attack until after dark. And," he answered the other two, "we're not exactly sure what it is now."
Sam sunk onto the cushions with a pain-filled sigh. "Alright well, we lost our flamethrower...but, of course, if it's not a biloko—"
"There's that word again." Jack.
"—can we still kill it with fire?"
"Good question. And I dunno, man, it could still be a biloko. I mean, no one that we know of has survived an attack to clean any wounds with holy water, and I was just being thorough, so…."
"We wouldn't know if it would react that way." Sam thought aloud, finishing his sentence.
"Right." Dean pointed a finger at him.
"Okay, so great, it's a bilbo," Jack cut in. "How do we kill it?"
"Fire is the best way," Dean answered, not even bothering to correct him. "Regular rounds only seem to slow it down, but that's something at least."
"Regular rounds to the…?"
Dean gestured to his head.
"Of cooourse," the colonel drawled, then reached behind his back and pulled out Dean's pearl handle 9mil.
"Finally." Dean took it gratefully.
The fire iron Daniel had been holding suddenly fell to the floor with a loud clang. All eyes turned to him.
"Daniel?" Jack moved towards him.
"Sorry." Closing his eye, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm just…." His legs gave out.
Jack and Dean caught him under the arms. When Dean put a hand on his back to help him onto the couch, the archaeologist tensed and cried out. Dean immediately let go and raised his hands.
"Talk to me, Daniel." Jack crouched down next to him, concern darkening his eyes.
"I'm fine. Really. Just got a little dizzy." He was pinching the bridge of his nose again, eyes squeezed shut. "Not as much steam as I had thought, I guess."
"Well aren't we just the All Star Team here," Dean commented, but not unkindly. The fading bruises on his face, and the bandages on his wrists hadn't gone unnoticed by him—though they were hidden under long sleeves. A person only had bandages like that…well, not for any good reason.
"Damnit, Daniel you should be resting." This trip really, really wasn't going according Jack's plan. It was meant to help Daniel forget about the horrors of the universe. Instead, since they got there, they've been nothing but reminded.
Daniel laughed humorlessly. "Yeah, we'll, we'll just put a sign up at the door telling all the spirits and claw-wielding monsters to come back after half of us have taken a nap."
Dean canted his head to the side as he checked the rounds in his weapon. "Sounds good to me."
Sighing, Jack ducked his head and ran a hand roughly through his hair. "Your meds are in the truck."
"I don't need them, Jack," Daniel tried to assure him, even though the pain and exhaustion in his voice stated otherwise. "Not yet, anyway."
"What happened to your back?" There was genuine concern in Sam's voice.
Daniel's blue eyes lost their focus for a moment. "Let's just say that not all monsters have claws."
Dean regarded him sadly. "I agree with you there."
"Okay, campers," Jack stood and clapped his hands together; anxious to get his friend safe and able to rest, "we have about," he looked at his watch, "an hour before it gets dark. What's the plan?"
SPN~*~SG1
"Salt is so going on my grocery list," Jack declared, annoyed as he stomped back into the living room.
All they had was one measly box of salt that was apparently one of their best protections against Casper the not-so-friendly ghost that kept popping in uninvited. He had already gotten thrown into the wall once by the damn thing. His fingers gingerly touched the small laceration on his brow. It wasn't something he wished to repeat.
"We don't have enough for a protective ring," Sam said from his slouched position on the couch. Daniel sat across from him. They were both turned sideways, their shoulders pressed into the back of the sofa as they tried to find the most bearable positions to work with their wounds.
"Why'd you guys have to go and piss off this loco Bill thing, anyway?"
"Biloko," Daniel and Sam corrected automatically.
"We didn't piss it off. We think drilling up in the hills did, however," Dean explained. "It left its normal hunting grounds and—"
"—ended up in my back yard," Jack surmised. "So, what? You guys track down ghost-toting monsters by day and…?"
"Actually, it's a full time gig. We hunt the supernatural, the evil and we kill it."
"That's what you do for a living?" Daniel raised his eyebrows at Dean. "Okay, I'm just going to try and ignore the fact that there's enough out there for you to, uh…hunt full time, but doesn't that get…I dunno…horrible?" To not only live a life surrounded by such darkness all of the time, but to seek it out?
"It's what we do." Dean's throat grew tight with the losses they've suffered...some so recently. "We protect people from the things their nightmares wouldn't even dream of. You're military, right?" He had noticed the way the older man had moved, at least. "You get that."
"Actually, I'm…I'm technically a civilian, but…yeah." His blue eyes softened with understanding. "I do."
Daniel looked over at Jack, their earlier conversation surfacing in his mind: "…there will always be horrible, rotten things out there, Daniel. But there will always be us, too: the good guys…."/
The room was silent, heavy with the sacrifices they all carried in their hearts. The battles they fought may be on different fronts, but they were all in the same seemingly never ending war.
Sam was the one that forced them all back to the present by clearing his throat. "I, uh, I think we're done."
"Yeah, here too," Dean said, holding up the flamethrower he'd MacGyvered with a small portable propane tank.
"Nice." Jack admired the one Sam was holding. "So, I should probably get the fire extinguishers ready, eh?"
Daniel started dropping the tools they used back into the toolbox. He froze when the ghost appeared a few feet in front of him. Grabbing the closest thing, he launched a screwdriver at her. She barely flickered as it went through her.
Daniel's mouth formed an O. "I guess that didn't have any iron in it."
The ghost rushed at him screaming, but was quickly dissipated by a shot of rock-salt from the sawed-off Dean held.
"Okay, so seriously, what are we gonna do about that thing?" Jack was getting pissed that it was now going after Daniel.
"There's nothing we can do. Not right now, anyway," Sam told him apologetically.
"Usually we'd salt and burn the bones that belonged to her, but in this snow and considering she was eaten,"Dean added, "well, let's just say we'll have about as much luck finding all the pieces of her right now as, well, Sammy will have meeting Snooki."
"What's a snooki?" Daniel asked, raising his eyebrows.
Clueless as well, Sam shrugged his shoulders at him.
"Alright, well there's got to be some way of—"
"Wait," Sam interrupted Jack, "Dean, the spirit has to be pretty damn far from the biloko's normal hunting grounds."
Dean nodded. "You're thinking it's attached to the bastard." He face turned unsure, though. "I dunno, man for her to be as angry as she is, she's had to have been hanging around for a long time. Wouldn't it have…" he gestured in a downward motion over his stomach, "…by now?"
Thinking, Sam bit the corner of his bottom lip. "Yeah, I guess."
Daniel's brow furrowed. "Wait, you're saying that the…the spirit attached itself to the biloko, but that what was left of her should have…" he mimicked Dean's earlier motion, "…by now?"
"I…think that's pretty clear, yes, Daniel," Jack quipped sarcastically.
"Okay," Daniel shook his head, trying to organize his thoughts, "what if it has nothing to do with her physically being attached to it, but more…spiritually."
"Well, it. is. a. spirit." Jack again.
"No, I mean…uh, some cannibalistic tribes believe that by eating each other, their spirits live on."
"Uuuh, eew. And a cannibalistic tribe, Daniel? In Minnesota?"
"Well, I dunno, maybe she's been attached to it for a really long time."
"Her clothes do look a little outdated."
"Okay, so, by smokin' the biloko we gank the bitch, too?"
"Worth a try." Sam met his brother's eyes.
"Great," Jack piped back in, "two birds with one stone. That's the kind of math I can get behind."
SG1~*~SPN
After checking the parameter of the house from the inside, Jack and Dean met back in the kitchen. The sun was beginning to set and Sam and Daniel were taking some forced downtime to preserve what little energy they had left.
"How long?" Jack asked gently, leaning back against the counter.
"How long what?" Dean was reloading the sawed-off with the last of the rock-salt shells. He had given Sam his 9mil because it would be easier for him to fire with his wound, but it wouldn't be much help against the ghost. Speaking of…that bitch was really getting on Dean's nerves. He knew it was just toying with them until the biloko attacked. Then, he had a feeling, she wouldn't be as easy to—
"How long has your brother been back from whatever hell he was kept in?"
Dean paused, then on instinct glanced over to check on his brother on the couch. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, not knowing what. The guy didn't know just how dead on he was.
"Look," the colonel continued just as carefully, "I saw what happened back there. PTSD?"
Dean didn't know what it was about the guy. Maybe it was because he was military and in that single and simple way he reminded him of his father. Maybe because since Bobby had…had….
Maybe Dean was desperate to unload.
Swallowing, he finally replied, "Just over a year." Since he had gotten all of him back, at least; well, what was left of him. "And yeah, you could say that." Understatement of the century, but yeah.
"What happened?"
Head down, sliding a shell into the barrel, images from that day in the graveyard flashed before Dean's mind. "He saved my life," he said, voice proud, but eyes sad as he watched him fall again. "He saved all of our lives." He absently rubbed his thumb over the top of the shell. "Then the idiot went and sacrificed what little sanity he had left to save me again."
Jack watched him with sympathetic eyes. "Kids."
"Yeah," Dean whispered hoarsely. When the gun he was holding started to blur, he shook his head and straightened from where he was leaning against the counter. He turned his back to Jack, and his eyes onto Sam.
The Air Force colonel took in the rigid shoulders. He recognized shoulders like that. They were shoulders that carried too much weight on them.
After a long moment, "He still sees him," Dean spoke again, softer this time; watching his brother talk to Daniel. He could see how exhausted he was. He could see how hard he was trying to hide it.
"The one who had him?"
"Yeah." Dean's throat was tight, painfully so. "The torture…. He, uh…sometimes he's…he's not sure what's real and what's not," he confided helplessly. "And I…" more tears rushed to the surface and his voice and resolve started to waiver, "I, uh…."
"Hey," Jack interrupted sternly, "you. got. him. back," he reminded him. "And it seems to me that he trusts you enough to keep him here. And from what I've seen? You do."
Chest tight and eyes dangerously close to embarrassing him, ducking his head, Dean smiled self-deprecatingly. "Yeah, well," he rasped, not so convinced. Often he wondered if he was enough for Sam, especially when most of the time he felt like he could barely get himself through the day. And now that Bobby—who had been like a father to them… Dean just wasn't sure…He just wasn't sure of anything.
"What, ah…" Clearing his throat, trying to shake loose the emotions building and threatening to overwhelm him, he asked lightly, "What about yours?" He gestured with his head over at Daniel.
Jack raised an eyebrow as Dean turned to lean against the counter again.
"I noticed a few things, too."
"Ah," Looking down at the floor, Jack, too, found himself unusually willing to divulge information on his team and himself. For reasons he couldn't explain, he felt compelled to confide in a man with a shared self-professed responsibility. "We, uh, we got him back barely a week ago," he started slowly, easing his heart back into the memory.
"How long was he gone?"
Head still down, Jack took a steadying breath and forced himself to continue. "He was held behind enemy lines for five days before we got the correct Intel to perform a rescue," he said, grimacing at his own words. It had taken too long, too damn long. "He'd been tortured, strung up and whipped…." He paused, still rocked by the truth, still rocked by the fact that he wasn't there to stop it, that he wasn't there to…to…."They kept him in a sweatbox." The hand holding his weapon tightened and his gaze and voice grew distant. "That's how we found him."
God, the way they had found him.
When he finally looked up and met Dean's eyes, they were hard and full of an understanding one could only achieve by experience. "You kill 'em?"
Jack didn't blink and his eyes were just as hard. "Every last one of them."
The sound of a fire iron hitting and sliding across the floor, and Daniel's, "You're right, a bungee would come in handy," brought Jack and Dean back to the present issue at hand.
"Let's go check on the kids, shall we?" Jack pushed off the counter, and snapping the shotgun closed Dean followed.
Walking back into the room, both of their names were called with excitement.
"Jack, they've met real angels."
"Dean, there's an artifact, a mirror that can transport you to other dimensions with just a touch."
"Daniel," Jack admonished for telling classified secrets.
"Sam," Dean admonished for, well, being a geek. And, to be honest, the last thing he needed or wanted to think about right now were angels.
"Aren't you two supposed to be resting?" Dean and Jack chided at the same time. After looking at each with surprise they turned back to the other two.
"We were, Dean."
"But then Gilda popped back in," Daniel explained.
"Gilda?" Jack and Dean.
"Yeah," Daniel's hand waved animatedly, "the ghost."
A loud crash from the back of the cabin cut off any sarcastic remark that could and would have been made.
"Show time." Jack walked over to fetch the tossed fire iron.
Sam reached for his brother and Dean pulled him to his feet—but legs weak, his knees buckled. "I got you." Dean held onto him, taking on his weight until he could stand on his own.
He was always doing stuff like that for him—since as long as Sam could remember. Always the big brother. "I know."
"Daniel?" Jack took his friend's hand and helped him up, too. "You ready for this?" he asked, worried. Not for the first time, he cursed the cosmic powers that be.
"To slay a monster?" Daniel grinned softly, and that Jackson spark Jack had been missing so much shone brightly in his eyes. "Just another day's work, right?"
Jack returned the smile and patted his cheek proudly. "Yeah." Ladies and gentlemen, Daniel Jackson was back. "Yeah."
CHAPTER THREE
Just as Dean had suspected, the ghost…or Gilda was done playing games. She cut the lights and threw Jack and Daniel across the room as the biloko charged in from the back with an animalistic cry. At least seven feet tall, its skin was hard—almost bark-like and it had a snout like a crocodile that glistened in the moonlit room.
It went straight for Sam.
Dean aimed the flamethrower he had, but Gilda flickered in behind him and tossed him against the wall. He crashed to the floor to the sound of his clip being emptied by his brother.
Fixated on Sam, the creature wouldn't stop. Jack came up beside it and emptied yet another round right into its skull. Finally, it fell to its knees with a growl. Wheezing, saliva and blood ran down its long snout. For a moment they thought they had won, survived, but it was a short moment. Out of nowhere, it backhanded Jack across his shoulder with one of its wickedly long arms.
"Jack!" Struggling to his feet, Daniel watched him fly across the room.
The creature roared and turned back to Sam; who was out of ammo and swaying on his feet. Spotting one of the sawed-offs, Sam dove for it. Sliding across the floor, he grabbed it and fired just as the biloko was upon him. It stumbled back to full height with an ear piercing shriek. Then shoulders heaving and skin sizzling, it lunged at Sam again.
This time, it and the would-be-intercepting Gilda got a face full of fire iron swung by Dean. The ghost disappeared and the biloko staggered backwards. Dean stepped between it and his brother. Blood was running down his temple from when he had hit the wall, but his feet were steady and his face determined. It wasn't touching his brother. Not again.
As if reading his mind, the creature snarled at Dean. In response, Dean's hand tightened on the fire iron. The creature sniffed the air with contempt…and charged.
It didn't get far. Back arching, it screamed as Daniel opened the homemade flamethrower on it. Dark orange eyes full of rage turned on him.
"Uh oh."
Body burning, it leapt at Daniel—who was tackled out of the way by Jack. Dean found the other flamethrower and doused it again. Screaming and withering, it staggered away and jumped through the front door window.
Jack and Dean turned to their charges. "Go!" they were ordered simultaneously by them.
Holding his shoulder, Jack grunted as he got to his feet and took the flamethrower from Daniel. "Stay here."
"No arguments from me," Daniel assured, voice filled with pain as he pushed himself into a sitting position and pulled a fallen fire iron closer. Jack and Dean ran out into the woods and Daniel looked to Sam who was propped up on one elbow, holding his side. "They'll get it," he said confidently.
Sam nodded. And then he passed out.
SG1~*~SPN
"Take it easy, will ya?" Jack griped, moving his shoulder away from Dean's fingers.
"Wow, are you a baby," Dean commented, finishing up. "Daniel didn't fuss this much when I cleaned up his back."
"Yes, thank you for that by the way." Jack couldn't do it so easily himself due to his injury. He also appreciated that Dean didn't press Daniel for answers he clearly wasn't ready to divulge.
"No problem." Dean handed him an ice pack. "It's bruised good, but not dislocated."
The colonel placed the cool pack against his shoulder. "How'd you learn how to do all of this anyway? Even Carter doesn't administer field stitches."
"I dunno," Dean walked over to the couch. "Out of necessity, I guess," he answered, regarding his brother as he slept. "Our job doesn't exactly have health insurance."
Jack couldn't help but wonder how exactly they did get by and if they had more than just themselves to depend on. There was a look about them. A look that screamed recently orphaned.
"Who's Carter," Dean asked, wiping the blood off his face from his own wounds.
"Another member of my team—who, by the way, should be headed this way shortly. Storm allowing." He looked around at the mess. They had taped a garbage bag over what was left of the door window, but lamps and pictures were shattered all over the floor, and salt and blood was everywhere. "Oy."
SPN~*~SG1
When Sam opened his eyes, he found himself on the couch under at least three blankets.
"Hey." Dean crouched down next to him. "How you feelin'?" He pressed the back of his hand against Sam's brow. Apparently satisfied, he pulled away.
"Okay." Sam blinked a few times, trying to get his bearings. "What happened?"
"Jack and I finished the bastard off and came back to find you passed out and Daniel damn near."
"What about Gilda?"
Dean rolled his eyes. Gilda? Really? "Haven't seen her," he answered, pulling back the blankets to get a look at Sam's wound. "Theory must have been right. And the lights were on when we got back, so—"
"Two birds with one stone," Sam mused quietly, acquiescing to Dean's ministrations. "How's Daniel?" His eyes drifted over to the other man.
"Completely out of steam," Jack answered, walking in. He checked his sleeping friend for fever, too. Finding none, "But he'll be just fine," he said, moving to sit at the end of the couch Daniel was curled up on. He laid a hand over the younger man's ankle as if it were second nature to him.
Dean grinned as he pulled the blankets back up over his brother's chest. He had sat with Sam the same way more times than he could count growing up.
Daniel's body suddenly tensed. "Jack?" His eyes remained closed, but his brow was pinched.
The older man squeezed his ankle gently. "Right here, Danny."
"'kay," he mumbled as he fell right back to sleep, face relaxing.
Noticing the boys watching them, "Cuddle bug," Jack gestured with his head down at Daniel.
"Yeah, this one, too." Dean jerked his thumb back at Sam who made a face. "So," Dean sat on the floor next to his brother's head, "dimension hopping mirrors, and you guys barely flinched when you found out there was a flesh-eating monster on our tail."
"Yes, well," the colonel drawled, "you've never met some of Daniel's friends."
"Uh, huh." Dean eyed him skeptically. "That the official company line you're towin'?"
The corner of Jack's mouth turned up. "For now."
Having already fallen back to sleep, Sam curled up on his good side and pressed his forehead into his big brother's back. Ducking his head, Dean smirked fondly. Looking back at Jack they said in unison, "Cuddle bug."
SPN~*~SG1
"Hey, jerk that was my last one." Sam made an unsuccessful grab for the stuffed mushroom Dean had stolen from his plate.
"What'd I tell ya about sharing, Sammy?" his older brother teased, popping it into his mouth as he sat on the couch in front of Sam's bent knees.
Sam's face scrunched up in thought. "Not…to?"
"Unless?"
Sam rolled his eyes and recited dully, "Unless it's with you."
Dean licked his fingers. "Exactly."
"Simmer down, children there's plenty more where that came from," Jack informed them as he walked into the living room with an entire tray full of stuffed mushrooms.
All three immediately reached out for more.
Sam and Daniel were still couch-bound, but they were both sitting up and under fewer blankets than earlier that night. Sam wore one of Jack's oversized hockey jerseys—which he was thankful for…not as much for himself as he was for Dean. Nobody wanted to see their brother wearing a blood-soaked shirt all night—especially considering what they've been through over the past few years.
"Mmmmm," Dean groaned appreciatively. "Sammy, get the recipe so you can make these for me."
"You make these for me."
"I make mac n' cheese."
"That's all you make, Dean."
"Shuudduup, you love my mac n' cheese."
"I love these more."
"You should try his steaks," Daniel said around a mouthful of mushrooms.
"Granny O'Neill would be proud." Jack sauntered another empty tray back into the kitchen. The place was cleaned up…mostly, the fire was roaring in the fireplace, the coffee was on, the boys were fed and Carter and Teal'c should be arriving—
The sound of an Asgard beam had Jack stopping in his tracks and grimacing. "Hi, guys!" Daniel greeted, unfazed by their outing of alien technology.
Jack turned around to find Carter and Teal'c standing in the living room holding presents and cookies. There was now also a lit and decorated Christmas tree in the corner of the room. Carter looked like she had been caught with her hands in the cookie jar. "Uh, sir, I…we didn't know you had company," she explained, looking abashed. "Otherwise, we would have—"
"Used the door?"
"Uh, yes, sir."
Dean's eyes were blown wide with delight. He stood. "Dude…."
Sam turned to Daniel. "Here we go."
"Was that…? Did you just...beam down here?" Dean didn't even attempt to hide his excitement. He then proceeded to full on geek-out and quote every other line from Star Trek.
SG1~*~SPN
"Sir, again, I am so sorry," Carter apologized, following Jack back into the kitchen. "Thor needed some help with a few things and we thought with the weather—"
"Major," Jack held up a hand, "you didn't know. Besides, I have a feeling these guys understand discretion."
His 2IC looked relieved…and intrigued. "Sir, who are these guys, anyway? What happened here?" She gestured at the mess and the protective way he was holding his arm.
"Uuuh," Jack took the cookies she had brought and sat them on the counter, "hunting accident?"
Carter raised her eyebrows dubiously. "A hunting accident?"
"Uh yeah, listen, Carter," Jack stopped what he was doing and scratched at the side of his nose, "I'll tell you everything, I swear." He waved a scout's honor hand. "Just," he canted his head to the side, "not right now." He went back to fixing another tray of stuffed mushrooms.
"Oookay." But her eyes were narrowed with curiosity.
"Trust me. You are gonna love it." He walked passed her with the cookies and…
"Are those stuffed mushrooms?" She followed after him.
"Grab Danny's pills!"
Automatically pivoting at his over-the-shoulder call, she detoured back to the counter. Grabbing a pill bottle, she paused and sniffed the air. "Did you guys burn something?"
SPN~*~SG1
"Is that the symbol for the Egyptian god Apophis?" Sam squinted, trying to see Teal'c's First Prime tattoo from his position on the couch.
"Indeed it is." Teal'c bowed slightly, impressed by his knowledge.
"Geek," Dean muttered at his brother, tossing another mushroom into his mouth.
"Is that…gold?" Sam then asked, shocked.
"Ouch." Dean grimaced. "I bet that hurt."
"Immensely," the Jaffa replied casually, hijacking a mushroom as Jack passed by.
"Ooo." Dean reached for a cookie.
Carter sat next to Daniel on the couch and handed him his pills.
"Thank you."
"No problem. How do you feel?" Out of habit, she reached over and checked him for fever.
"Like I have a large sticker on my forehead that says, "Feel here."
Wincing apologetically, she pulled back her hand. "Sorry."
He smiled. "S'kay, I'm getting used to it…I think."
"Daniel," Jack sing-songed on his way back to the kitchen, "pills are for swallowing, not for holding in one's palm."
Daniel dipped his head to the side. "On the other hand."
Carter smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "He was worried about you," she said softly, reaching out to squeeze his arm. "We all were. Are."
It was no secret that he had been struggling—not as much with the physical scars as he was with the emotional ones. Those always tended to run deep within him, and sometimes—especially in this case, hopelessness had taken hold and refused to let go.
Daniel met her tear-filled eyes with his own. "I know."
He had been afraid that he'd lost something; a part of himself, back in that box, back on those ropes… and he had; for a little while anyway. But he could feel it slowly coming back to him, growing and filling in the empty places it had left behind.
He knew it would be awhile yet before he'd be able to really move on from what he had seen, from what he had experienced. But Jack was right—it helped to surround yourself with friends. His eyes wandered over to Sam and Dean. It also helped to see that there were other people, good people still out there fighting the good fight with you, for you—and fighting it with everything they had.
/ "We're not done yet, Daniel," Jack professed, "and neither is humanity. So don't go giving up on it or yourself just yet."/
"You'll let me know if you need anything, yeah?" Carter rubbed his arm affectionately.
This time when he smiled, he didn't have to fake it. "Yeah."
SG1~*~SPN
From his slouched position on the couch, Sam grinned sleepily as he watched his brother casually peruse Jack's dvd collection. He hadn't seen him this relaxed in a really, really long time. He carried so much on his shoulders. He always had, really.
He always had.
And now… now….
Tears rushing to meet Sam's eyes, his grin faded. He knew he could be a handful with Lucifer tramping around in his head, and since Bobby—
"Sammy, you okay?"
"Uh, yeah." Clearing his throat, he blinked back the tears and cursed himself for causing his brother to worry about him again.
Dean didn't believe him. He immediately put down the drink he was holding. "Hey, uh…it's probably time we get going." He wiped his hands on his jeans. "I should get Cindy Lou to bed before he turns into a pumpkin."
Teal'c made a puzzled face, but when he turned to Daniel for explanation the archaeologist waved him off. He wasn't even sure he could figure that one out.
"Uh, listen," Jack pulled Dean off to the side, "aside from the fact that you're out of your mind if you think I'm gonna let you trek, how many miles? to your car in the middle of the night in this weather…"
Dean made a, Dude, I'm a big boy, face.
"…we have plenty of food and space," Jack continued. "You're exhausted…ah!" he held up a hand forestalling the inevitable denial, "and your brother really shouldn't be jostled around right now; which is exactly what will happen if you take him out in this."
When Dean tilted his head in thought and opened his mouth to argue, Jack squeezed his shoulder. "Stand down, soldier," he ordered gently, finally realizing how he could get through to him. Whether he was military or not, the moment Jack had met him, he recognized the soldier in him. He palmed the back of his neck and squeezed again. "Stand down."
Ducking his head, Dean's throat was too tight to speak and for the second time that night he found himself dangerously close to tears. He was so, so tired, but—
"He's safe here." Jack looked back at Sam, who was watching them with concern. "And I'm thinking you getting some rest will do him as much good as it will you."
"Listen to him, ya idjit." Dean could practically hear Bobby say in his own affectionate way. "Rest when you can, son. Then come up swingin'."
Head still down, tears still too close to the surface, Dean nodded. "Yeah," he rasped thickly. "Yeah, okay."
SG1~*~SPN
The room was silent, but for the crackling of the fire. Sam, Dean and Teal'c took up one couch. Carter and Daniel another and Jack sat in the single cushion seat by the Christmas tree. With full stomachs and soft chatter they admired the lights and decorations.
Something dawned on Jack. "Carter, this is my Christmas tree…from. my. house."
Carter smiled. "Yes, sir. Seemed a shame for it to go to waste, and Thor was more than happy to."
Fondness shone in Jack's eyes. "Gotta love that little guy."
"Is there anymore hot chocolate, O'Neill?" Teal'c asked.
"Sorry, big guy," Jack said, concentration on one of the ornaments he was tapping on the tree, "gonna have to cut you off."
The Jaffa's face fell.
"How many is that, anyway?" He looked over at him. "Four?"
"Five," Teal'c corrected, looking back down at his empty cup forlornly.
Carter laughed softly. Her eyes then shifted over to the boys. Shoulders brushing, Sam and Dean had stared at the tree for about an hour—their eyes full of more sorrow than wonder before finally falling asleep. Dean had been the first to nod off. It was only after Sam had turned to his brother and saw that his eyes were closed, that he had let his own close too.
"They're close," Carter commented quietly, still watching them. "My brothers and I were never that close."
"They're a team," Jack responded just as softly. "Family."
Carter smiled over at him, then down at Daniel who was curled over her lap fast asleep. She gently ran her fingers through his hair. "Lucky to have each other."
Watching his friend sleep; the memory of just how close they had come to losing him still fresh in his mind…in all of their minds, Teal'c swallowed thickly. "Lucky, indeed."
The clock striking midnight brought everyone's thoughts back from that unbearable week of grasping at false leads and waning hope. "Merry Christmas, Major Carter," Teal'c said warmly. "Merry Christmas, O'Neill."
"Merry Christmas." Carter smiled just as warmly.
Looking around the room at his team—all so lucky to be home and safe, and at the two young men suddenly brought into their lives; taking a rare refuge from what he imagined to be a merciless front, Jack added quietly, "…and to all a good night."