Supply and Demand: Stolen Part 4/? (SPN/SGA AU Crossover)
Author: Tari_Roo
Rating: PG13 (Gen)
Fandom: SPN/SGA
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing. Although if I had my way Sheppard and co would still on screen, Mitchell would have joined Atlantis and Dean and Sam would be shirtless more often.
Summary: SGA/SPN Crossover AU. When an impossibly locked door is keeping the Trust from treasures unknown, they arrange to steal an Empath so that their Kinetics can 'crack the safe'. Unfortunately for Dean, he's the unlucky Empath and the safe is in Pegasus.
Spoilers: set post Season 5 of SGA and assumes Atlantis returned to Pegasus, post ep 100 and AU for SPN (all seasons)
Chapter 4
No one was looking at Dean Winchester. Not really. Not because of who he was but because of what he was. An Empath. Had he been anyone else, any one at all, he'd be the type of man you'd pay careful attention to, a man with purpose and depth and skills, a man to be watched. Tall, handsome and far more beneath the surface than just a pretty face.
But he was an Empath and everyone knew that Empaths were soft and useless and only good for Kinetics and powering them up and being there in the background and invisible. Yet at the same time, in the back of your mind was the quiet whisper of certain knowledge, of Galvaston and danger and quiet waters running deep and deadly men with gentle smiles.
And that was perhaps why you liked to believe the lie that Empaths were soft and useless and good only for Kinetics because the truth was hard and frightening and made the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, like they were doing now on Sheppard's.
Because people were people and they would believe whatever made them sleep well at night even if it was a bald faced lie that they wouldn't even expect their children to swallow but they did because it was easier than the truth. The truth that a man was a man, no matter what you believed and if you beat and push and ignore and shove someone in a box and tell him that he belongs in that box, that he is nothing and useless and soft and only good for kinetics, that there is a good chance that he is going to shove right back and give you a lot more than a bloody nose. Especially if that someone is an Empath and you know all about Galvaston and it gives you nightmares, so you believe the lie, so that you can sleep.
Only Teyla had never heard the lie, had no idea about the quiet little box that Dean Winchester was supposed to fit into neatly and quietly and she was watching him with the concern you usually gave Ronon when he was irate, or Todd when he was close at hand and not in restraints, or well... anyone who had purpose and skills and the ability to send a hundred people off a rooftop to their deaths because he felt like it.
And John, John was well used to being looked at one way, being seen as something less and useless and good only for ferrying scientists around in a helicopter in the frozen wastes of a dead continent but knowing deep down inside that he was more, had purpose and skills and heaven above, given the chance could find a place in the universe that was his and where he belonged. So Sheppard was watching Winchester with the same if not greater concern as Teyla because he knew the lie and knew in a fundamental way what type of man Dean Winchester was, and that what was about to happen, would be both wondrous and frightening to behold.
After all there are only so many times someone will take the punishment of the unthinking and thoughtless and let it slide and let it slide, waiting for who knew what before they would stand up, and do something about it. Sheppard was amazed how someone on their knees, bound and bloody could look so damn frightening, but Winchester was doing an admirable job of just that.
The standoff between the two Kinetics wasn't even close to resolution, the one called Hughes still senseless on the ground, a growing pool of blood beneath him. Durrant wasn't faring much better but he was ignoring the stream of blood from his ears and nose, too intent on his face off with Taylor, a prize at stake, a wonderful earth shattering prize. Too bad that neither man was paying attention to their prize, too caught up in their pride, ego, possessiveness and well... idiocy.
Augusto, the little obsequious man in charge of the whole thing was trying to diffuse the situation, but between trying to get the camp struck, the Al'kesh packed and collect his own prize, the arguing Kinetics were wavering on the top of his list of priorities. Rodney was doing his best to distract the scientists, arguing loudly, calling everything from their degrees, pedigrees and fashion sense into question, enough so that they weren't paying attention to anything but him and the Kinetics. Rodney however had lived long enough and if that wasn't enough of a badge of success, that he was alive, that he was giving the ignored form of Winchester equal if not more attention than his diatribe and that was proof enough that Rodney McKay was an intelligent man.
The air felt electric, and John judged that most of the people around him were notching that up to the Kinetics and not anything else. Augusto was yelling at mercenaries on the radio, presumably still chasing Ronon, at scientists and staff running around the camp and at the Kinetics. Taylor and Durrant were yelling at each other, the air actually vibrating around them as they fought for control over Winchester. And Rodney, Rodney had the two scientists near the shield holding back an apocalyptic catastrophe, arguing about semantics in Ancient.
If there was ever a tableau destined for a dramatic overhaul, this was one.
"Be ready," Sheppard hissed and Teyla nodded, already ready.
And Winchester did not disappoint.
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The chain that Taylor had so inventively shoved inside his brain, inside him, tore and grated like nothing else ever had. In the two years of hell that had been his life with T&E, Dean had fended off more attacks and attempts to connect than he would have thought possible.
Dad had been adamant about staying away from T&E, no matter how much Sam had scoffed at his paranoia. John had never told Dean why he had been so afraid for him, so certain T&E was a death sentence, but Dean had believed him, like he had most things his father told him. And while his view on his father had changed over time, especially after his death, he had never doubted this one fear. Even if Sam had, even if Sam's final words through their connection had been reassurance that it could not be as bad as their Dad had made out, it could never be, Dean had believed his Dad anyway.
And Dad had been wrong on so many levels but at the core, at the heart of it all, had never been so right. It was everything he had warned and ten times worse.
Sam, Sam, Sam.
For months Dean had felt nothing but hate and anger at his brother, for lying, for leaving, for letting them take him away, for not fighting to stay with him. Even if Dean wasn't 'his' in the way every Kinetic seemed to think he was theirs, because Sam had never thought of Dean as anything but his brother, at least Sam knew him. And that was the problem. Sam could never, would never think or believe that someone would think of his brother as anything but strong, and capable and dangerous.
But T&E only saw one thing. And the Kinetics only felt one thing. And as much as Dean fought and argued and refused to be that thing, it didn't stop them from thinking and feeling and acting like he was theirs and theirs to be used.
Dean had fought, tried to run, been as difficult and troublesome as he knew how, but all it took was a single current of electricity to take away all thought but pain and fear and gone, gone, gone and before he knew it he was fighting to put the pieces of himself back together, again. And every time it took longer, longer to remember that he was Dean Winchester, John Winchester's son, ghost hunter and demon killer. But he did remember eventually, and fought and asked for help and tried so hard not to be what they made him. But all it took was a current of cold, breathtaking, earth shattering electricity and the indifferent helpless shrugs of others, and he had to start again.
But the chain was different, raw and painful, but different and Hughes with his laid back, smooth as glass smile and quiet terror of anything resembling hard work was down. And Dean knew why, knew exactly why, had felt the feedback and had pushed and watched him fall.
So many Kinetics, so many emotions and personalities, and Dean knew a hundred ways to fend them off, but he also knew a precious few ways to hurt them. And right now, Durrant was a writhing mass of determination, so intent on ignoring his own pain, that he was ignoring Dean. Taylor though, Taylor was not so foolhardy and even as he fought Durrant for control, he was keeping a firm hand on the chain, rattling it even as he shoved and pushed Durrant to a standstill, screaming all sorts of arrogant vitriol.
Maybe it was the fact that they were in a dead city on a dead planet in the galaxy far far away. Maybe it was the way the dark haired Colonel across from him was looking at him, his exotic companion sharing the same careful, considering expression, like he was 'someone'. And maybe it was just too much, too long and the right time, but the Colonel actually smiled and winked at him as Dean stood.
Because enough was enough, and the chain was making everything taste like blood and the last time he'd felt this close to death, his father had been looking at him with sickly yellow eyes, and smiling as he begged for mercy.
Please, Dad.
Electricity was the enemy. It'd nearly killed him with the rawhead, introduced him to his first Reaper and had taken away Sam, over and over again. Kinetics wielded it like a damned toy, scattering his thoughts and everything. But it was also his to control. It had saved Agent Hotchner, had even saved Sam in Cold Oak.
The exposed shield wasn't really electricity but it was energy and it sang to him. So as he stood, and everyone's eyes were drawn to him, every face turned, Dean reached out to the shield and pulled.
Durrant screamed like he was being gutted, and the metal of the handcuffs stung as electricity raced through him, and Dean shook the chain connecting him to the Kinetics. Taylor dropped to his knees, clutching his head, while Durrant screamed again.
There were shouts and running people, mostly away from him but a few towards them, but Durrant wasn't going down without a fight. The punch he threw at Dean was rock solid, but buoyed by the energy of the shield, Dean absorbed it with a grunt and sent it back, both physically and mentally, and Durrant dropped in an explosion of blood.
Taylor though was sneaky and clever and Dean was wide open. The push to connect was gut wrenching but Dean had been expecting it, waiting for it. Absorbing this blow too, different in purpose but not intent, Dean held on to the chain between them and grated out, eyes boring in Taylor, "You want to connect? Fine!"
Taylor, knees digging into the dirt, hands clutched in his hair, tearing at the roots, felt a rush of emotion so intense it made him fold over and gag on the flood. He had been connected once and knew what the heady sensation of someone else's emotions felt like but this...
It wasn't just emotion, there were images and sensations and memories, and it was ... frightening, overwhelming. It truly was a flood, so much washing over him that he could hardly breathe, his heart hammering as he tried to control it, stop it, bring Dean to heel.
Out of the swirling mass of a lifetime of memories and emotions, Taylor suddenly felt ice rip though him, like invisible claws, his chest bleeding. He looked up into cold yellow eyes and heard he's gonna taste the iron in your blood, boy. The pain ripping through his chest grew, fear and panic clawing at his and he cried out, Dad, please, Dad!
Then there was Sam, and love and grief and fear and tossing, frying some guy in a uniform, the smell of ozone and fried meat in the air, the taste of blood in his mouth. But Sam was safe, always keeping him safe, saving him, watching, protecting. No one touches!
Watching Sam cry and beg and plead... Kill me, Dean. You have to promise. Sam's face sneering and angry, and spiteful, eyes black, thick fingers digging into his shoulder, feeling the bullet move and grate against bone.
Ole Yellow Eye's stunned expression. Dad, smiling and crying, free.
Mom kissing him on the cheek, then the feel of a blade in his stomach, stabbing himself, killing her and his dreams and hopes and home, the taste of ash in his mouth.
Sam walking away, without looking back, stiff with anger and pride. The bite and grind of a salt round to the chest. Daddy's blunt instrument.
Dad ignoring him, furious and hurt because Sam had run away, the bite of fear and shame and deserved punishment.
You may have to kill your brother.
The smell of human flesh burning, tears cold and wet on his face, Dad gone, gone, gone, never coming back, burning in hell, burning for him, burning, burning, burning. Cold blood on his face, emptiness inside. Burying the horror even as he hit Sam, burying it all, because he was dead, should have stayed dead.
And then... Sam. Walking away, in chains and cuffs, sending through a torrent of reassurance and love and it won't be so bad, don't give up. Henricksen's angry smirk. Andrews' happy evil smile.
Taylor didn't feel the ground as it came up to meet him, boneless and nerveless.
Because then there was cold, biting pain. Sam ripped from him, Sam, Sammy gone. The taste of blood in his mouth, muscles screaming, voice breaking, nothing but screaming, because Sam was gone, gone, gone. Crying, sobbing as electric currents raced through him wiping away his brother, ripping them apart, Sam's voice and emotions going, going, gone, lost. Fighting so damn hard but failing ... until there was nothing.
Taylor gasped, shaking and seizing, eyes rolling back, blood streaming from his nose, ears and eyes, gagging on the blood. He twitched, moaned, gurgled and then ... was utterly still.
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Teyla didn't really need the prompting, but Sheppard couldn't really help it, the instinct too ingrained. When the first Kinetic dropped in a spray of blood and the last started screaming like someone was skinning him alive, John shouted, "Go, go, go." He scrambled to his feet, pushing Teyla towards the paltry cover of a few crates, but Teyla was already running.
Rodney, ever quick to preserve self and others had body checked the scientists next to him and as they collapsed in a tangled groan of legs and arms, an arc of crackling energy snapped into the pillar above them.
Neither Kinetic was moving, both covered in blood and as John peered around the crate, he couldn't help smiling as Winchester broke the weakened, melted cuffs and raised fists wrapped in writhing electricity. "Nice."
The few mercenaries not hunting Ronon were running towards him, not really 'seeing' what had just happened, but professional enough to realise something more than the usual was going on. You didn't stay alive for long, not even if you worked for the Trust, or maybe especially if you worked for the Trust, if the sight of someone with glowing fists gave you pause.
They fired a combination of live rounds and zat fire at Winchester, even as they took cover as well. If the live fire reached him, John had no idea what happened to the bullets but the energy blasts from the zats were absorbed in the growing atmosphere of static energy around him.
And Winchester returned fire before they even had a chance to think about doing the same again. Like something out of a movie with awesome special effects, Dean shot great arcs of lightning at the soldiers, scattering crates and tents. And he didn't let up either, moving smoothly forward and around, sending a steady stream of blue and white electricity at anything that moved.
The thick, unusual stone of the city, that had survived millions of years of neglect and ruin, cracked and smoked under the onslaught, small sharp shards of rock exploding with each hit. Feeling his hair stand on end, John kept as still as possible and noted that while some of the strikes came pretty damned close, none of the blasts actually hit anyone, but the concussion of the hot air and energy was decimating the mercenaries.
The tang of ozone was sharp and the men were tough, but Dean gave them no opportunity to do anything more than run for cover or collapse unconscious. Startling him a little, Teyla touched his hands briefly and as he turned, she hissed, "Hold still, John." Not surprisingly, she had somehow found a knife and was quickly sawing on the plastic tie around his hands.
The explosions had drawn the mercenaries out in the city and Dean spotted them right off, and tossed several, long, reaching lightning strikes, scattering them before they really knew what was going on. Not wanting to risk a bolt of energy, Sheppard and Teyla stayed where they were, and not even the reinforcements seemed willing to risk getting any closer. Augusto was cowering behind a tent, Nikolai a towering figure, returning fire and dodging behind cover. Winchester was drenched in sweat, but vigilant, taking pot shots at the mercenaries, still cracking the odd building or wall with his fire, but Sheppard's gaze was drawn more to the shield behind them.
The large dome building with its Ancient shield was unscathed but the shield was sparking and cracking in response to each strike, and with a desperate groan, Sheppard had a bad feeling he knew why. "Crap."
"What?" Teyla hissed.
"He's draining the shield and I'm pretty sure Rodney's right about the radiation."
Winchester showed no sign of flagging or stopping, not with enemies still behind cover, taking pot shots at him, but the shield was definitely taking strain. Wondering if the risk of yelling a warning would outweigh the real possibility of getting shot at but certain he had to do something, Sheppard leaned around the crate.
Responding to the movement, Winchester swung in his direction but thankfully did not fire at him, and Sheppard yelled, "The shield!"
But the mercenaries were waiting for just such a distraction and surged from behind cover, even those close by who had seemed unconscious and Dean had to take several steps back and to the side to avoid their hail of fire. Under that onslaught the haze of electricity and energy around Winchester was almost blinding and while the zat fire was absorbed, some of the bullets must have made it through, but Dean remained standing.
The shield however was positively shaking, threatening to collapse at any second. "John," Teyla called out in warning, but Sheppard was already moving, on his feet.
Rodney however, closer, quicker and perhaps far more aware of the impending doom acted first. Winchester had moved closer to him and in the sudden break of fire, Rodney rolled over and wrapped his hand around Winchester's ankle in a fierce grip and yelled, "Stop!"
Maybe Dean was so caught up in the moment, or maybe his control of his other abilities was low, but everyone felt Rodney's fear and warning projected through Winchester. Blinking at the rush of stop, stop, stop, Sheppard did just that, exposed and half a step out of cover. But so did all of the mercenaries, their guns and zats silent. And so did Winchester.
The snap and crackle of electricity lingered but as Dean slowly looked down at Rodney, who was still gripping his foot, the haze of energy around him disappeared, the electricity around his hands faded and the shield behind him snapped and fizzed and then settled into a steady hum.
A stunned silence fell over everyone, and as Teyla stood, the collected mercenaries raised their weapons, and Dean clenched his fists.
"Don't," Rodney gasped, looking up at Winchester. "I'm serious, deadly, life ending, planet killing radiation is behind that shield and well... I'd rather not die right now, thanks."
And because sometimes life is just like that, and luck goes their way, several jumpers decloaked right then and Lorne's clear, authoritative voice ordered, "Everyone, drop your weapons. Now!" And Sheppard's Marines ran out from the cover of the City, and another Jumper decloaked and because they were professionals and knew when to fold, the Trust's hired soldiers dropped their guns and raised their hands in surrender.
And just like that, it was over.
A few scientists stood up and scurried over, happy to surrender. Marines moved in to de-arm and secure their prisoners. McKay slowly stood and then hurried over to the Ancient panel and the two Trust scientists joined him. Sheppard waved at Ronon who jumped down out of a Jumper, with a smile. But no one made any move towards Dean Winchester and the two unmoving bodies of the Kinetics at his feet, the third a few feet away.
Well, no one but Teyla. And John let her, not really worried but wary nonetheless, watching quietly.
Winchester didn't seem to know what to do, he was shaking and trembling, hands clenching into fists and then shaking them lose and clenching again. He was watching everyone and everything and watching Teyla approach with wary worry.
Teyla didn't smile, didn't raise a hand in reassurance but everything about her radiated peace and calm and quiet.
Well aware that everyone was watching, even if they weren't doing so directly, Dean reflexively stepped back, holding up a hand as if in warning, in defence. But Teyla didn't even pause, her posture and grace smooth and confident. And as Winchester took yet another step away, she matched his motion and stepped right within reach, breaching his personal space.
As natural as one breath to the next, Teyla reached out and touched Dean's trembling hands, and he stilled in an instant. Moving hands to his shoulders, Teyla pulled him without any real effort into the traditional Athosian greeting, forehead to forehead, her hands now on his neck, fingers kneading his tense muscles.
Sheppard knew he was smiling, remembering his first awkward Athosian embrace and felt the tension drain out him as well. The Marines relaxed, Ronon's frown vanished, as Teyla wrapped strong arms around Dean, and after a moment, he did the same, swallowing her in his embrace. The collective drop in tense anticipation and fear was breathtaking.
John wasn't really close enough to hear, but he knew Teyla would be whispering words of comfort and reassurance, and Winchester's arms tightened around her, his face buried in her shoulder.
"Did he really kill that guy using his mind?" Ronon was suddenly next him, checking without really seeming to, that John was ok, bar the mess of his face.
"Apparently so."
Still without actually looking at Sheppard, his gaze fixed on Teyla and Dean, Ronon growled, "Like Darth Vader?"
"I'm hoping more 'Jedi' than 'Sith', personally."
"Kenobi?"
Sheppard nodded, breathing out and feeling the rush of adrenalin finally die, "Yeah."
"Awesome," Ronon grinned.
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TBC
