Notes: Ah, yes. In this chapter we get to explore the origin of Meg, as well as find out how Dean got into his bloody mess in the first place for those of my wonderful readers who haven't seen the show before. Enjoy everyone!
ship. me: *So many apologetic huggles* I'llmake it all fluffy and good soon...ish...
leahelisabeth: And schmoop you shall have in the end! I love ending each story with schmoopy goodness Xd
Disclaimer: Look at all the fandoms I don't own! :D
CHAPTER 10
An Hour Earlier
The Impala sat still, as if anchored to that spot in space. The ship hadn't been this cold, quiet, dark, and alone since Dean had bought it those five years ago. As the frigid temperatures and dwindling oxygen lulled Dean into a deep slumber, a signal started to blip on the console.
The screen lit up to show a fuzzy image of a man's face through the static of the jammed wavelength. A halting voice sounded through the control room, "Firefly Impala…This is the private salvage S.S. Walden. Receiving your distress beacon, do you read?"
The message continued to repeat, the sound crackling as it continued to break up, but Dean remained motionless, not hearing the noise through his muddled mind. Then the static became more frequent, louder crackling that started to stir the Captain. Only a few more words of the distress reply come through before Dean groggily pries open his eyes.
Dean forced his heavy-lidded eyes to drag along the console until they fell upon the signal just as the transmission ended and the signal cut off. Clumsily Dean tried to orient himself and forced his frozen stiff body to sit up, his head lolling to the side to see the huge shadow of a ship pass by the window. The sight is enough to have him shooting out of his seat.
Frantically Dean slapped his hand down on the signal receive button and called back, his voice hoarse and dry, "Please. I'm still here. I need help." He croaked out.
There was a panicked moment when there was no reply, but then static broke through the silence again, "Hello? We're here to help, Captain."
Dean had done his best to re-hash the situation to the Walden's Captain, but it was getting damn hard to think straight as a headache started pounding away as the oxygen dwindled even further. The other Captain sounded mildly sympathetic through the whole explanation however, Dean could tell that they guy was a bit on the cautious side.
"I'm sorry for you troubles, Captain. They sound many. But you do understand that I can't invite you aboard my vessel. I don't know you," he stated calmly.
Dean swallowed hard, trying to lather up his throat enough to speak again, "I'm not asking for a ride. Just a little push." Dean could understand the other Captain's hesitance. Hell, if Dean were him then he'd be just as wary.
Over the telescreen Dean saw the other Captain nod, "Right. Your mechanical trouble. Your compression coil, you say?"
Dena nodded back, "It was the catalyzer."
A loud scoff came over the contact, "Not even the coil? Catalyzer's a nothing part, Captain." He laughed loudly, making Dean who, had become accustomed to dead silence, wince.
"It's nothing until you don't have one. Then it appears to be everything," Dean replied wearily. Damn near did seem to be everything, because without it, Dean had now lost his entire crew and was about to lose the only home he had ever had.
The other Captain seemed to get this and moved off screen for a moment. Dean could hear him talking shop in the background with another faceless voice. Then the Captain's figure returned to the screen, "Well, my mechanic says that we might just have something that could work for you. We just got off from a big salvage job off Ita Moon. Shit load of serendipity for ya."
A giant swell of relief rushed through Dean and he almost let himself crumple to the floor with it, but then the Captain's voice spoke again, sounding suspicious, "Trouble is…how can I know for certain your story's true? Ambush could be waiting for me and my people on the other side."
Rubbing a weary hand over his face Dean replied, "You can plainly see that both of my shuttles have been launched, just like I said. And by now you've scanned me. You know I have no life support," Dean reasoned while trying to keep his eyes open.
The other Captain still looked uncomfortable, but he nodded in agreement, "Well then I feel like perhaps we can do business, but I don't expect to see any weapons when we board," he requested firmly.
"And I do expect to see that engine part before I open the door," Dean said just as firmly and waited for the other ship to agree. Then Dean hit the button to trigger the air-lock line-up between the Impala and the Walden.
Slowly Dean made his way to the hold, not trusting his dizzy mind to keep him upright should he move any faster. His breathing had become very shallow, enough that to anyone else it would look like he was panting slightly. Finally making it to the hold, Dean anxiously waited at the airlock door.
The face of the other Captain suddenly appeared in the airlock window, followed by his hand holding up the catalyzer. Without waiting for another shallow breath, Dean hit the control panel to open up the door.
As the doors opened, there was a tremendous rush of fresh air that came in from the other ship, and Dean savored every molecule of it, closing his eyes for just a beat, breathing it in. But when he opened his eyes again, he was greeted with three guns raised and pointed straight at him.
Cursing silently to himself, Dean raised his hands in surrender.
"Check him," ordered the other Captain. One of his men ran forward and started to pat down Dean, searching for weapons. As per the agreement, Dean had completely stripped himself of all of his knives and his gun, leaving them all back in the control room. Now he looked back bitterly at his own stupidity. He should have seen through the obvious trap.
The Captain continued to hash out orders, "Search the ship. Start at the cock-pit and work your way down."
Dean chuckled bitingly, "This what you meant by an ambush?" He hissed.
The other man smiled, "We're just verifying your story," then he turned to his men as they went to move up the stairs, "You find anyone on board that's not supposed to be, you shoot 'em."
Dean growled, his senses and anger coming back full force as the fresh air powered him up, "I thought we were going to be reasonable about this?"
The other Captain looked baffled, "Reasonable?"
FOUR YEARS AGO
Dean and Sam stood side by side at the foot of the ramp, hands raised in the air as two men and a petite woman stood in front of them, guns raised.
The leader turned to the man on his left and grinned a toothless grin, "He's gonna talk to us about "reason" now," he laughed.
His male partner returned the chuckle, "Yeah, that's a joke." The two men continued to kid around like bullies on a playground, so Dean took the opportunity to turn to Sam to formulate some sort of plan. It was damn convenient that every time bad guys caught them, they had to make jokes or go into some master evil plot reveal speech. Made the brother's escaped that much easier.
"Sam, which one you figure tracked us?" he asked in a hushed voice.
Sam didn't look like he even had to consider it, "The ugly one," he replied just as quietly, his eyes never trailing away from the pointed guns.
"Could you be more specific," whined Dean.
Then the leader spoke loudly at them again, some spit flying out from the gaps in his mouth, "Does we look reasonable to you?!"
Dean shrugged, "Well, looks can be deceiving."
The second man piped up, "Not as deceiving as a low down dirty…deceiver!" He shouted.
Sam noticed the short woman roller her eyes dramatically at this, clearly hating it as much as the brothers whenever that guy spoke.
Dean grinned at that and turned to his brother, "Well said, sir. Wasn't that well said, Sam?"
"Had a kind of poetry to it, Dean," Sam responded deadpan. This time Sam saw her smirk at the brother's comments. Sam nudged Dean and gestured with a pointed look at the woman. Dean caught on.
An impatient grunt sounded from the second man, "You want I should shoot 'em now, boss?" he asked eagerly. On the other side, the leader's smirk grew and he raised his gun higher. The woman's smirk disappeared and she elbowed the man next to her angrily.
"God, did your parents drop you on your heads when you were little, or did they feed you antifreeze? You can't shoot them until they tell us where they put the stuff," she hissed and elbowed the leader again for good measure.
Sam and Dean exchanged pointed looks again. At least one of the bandits had some smarts. They could work with that, though.
The leader didn't seem to know that he was just insulted and instead nodded in agreement, "Oh! That's a good idea! Tell us where the stuff's at so I can shoot you!"
The look on her face was enough to pull a smirk out of each of the Winchesters.
Cautiously, Dean raised his hand like they were in grade school. Obligingly the second man pointed to Dean to hear the question.
Dean cleared his throat, "Uh, I have a comment, or a point of interest really. Um, offering to shoot us might not work so well as an incentive as you might imagine. Anyway, we've hidden it. So, you kill us, you'll never find it."
Meg's smirk returned, "I found you easy enough," she purred, clearly not at all daunted by the idea.
Bingo.
Dean put on a thoughtful face, "Yeah. Yeah you did, didn't you?...How much are they paying you?" He asked suddenly, and Sam tried to stifle a chuckle next to him.
The two male bandits exchanged confused glances, clearly unsure of what was happening here. The woman however raised an eyebrow, obviously intrigued.
Dean dove for the opportunity, "I mean, let's say you did kill us. Or didn't. There could be torture. Whatever. But somehow you found the goods. What would be your cut," he asked her.
Without missing a beat she answered, "Seven percent, straight off the top."
Both brother's widened their eyes in genuine surprise. That was some shit pay. The woman seemed to notice their surprise and jumped to her own defense, "What? So what?" She growled.
Dean coughed lightly and shuffled his feet, "Hmm? Nothing. Not a thing. No, I just…," he turned to Sam he glanced back, "That seem low to you, Sam?"
Muffling yet another smirk Sam nodded, "Indeed. That's below minimum wage for a contract job, even on the backwater planets."
The leader piped up, "That ain't low! Seven percent is standard!" The man next to him started counting slowly on his fingers as if trying to figure something out.
Dean scoffed, "Wow. If seven percent is standard then I am paying Sammy here way too much."
Curiously the woman spoke up again, ignoring her two bandit buddies, "How much do you pay him, anyway?"
The leader growled at the question and turned to Dean, clearly not wanting to anger the woman. Perhaps he was scared of her?
"Knock it off," he shouted.
Applauding himself mentally Dean bounced on the back of his heals in an innocent gesture, "Look, forget I said anything. I'm sure you're treated very well. You get the perks. Got your own room ,being a lady an all…"
Dean noticed her sour expression at that.
"No? You share a bunk?" He asked incredulously.
She gestured with her head to the second man, her lips curling in disgust, "With that one," she muttered with contempt.
The leader finally caught up with what was going on and started to get really nervous, "Meg, this ain't funny," he said, voice trembling nervously.
The woman, Meg, spared him a small glance, "Yeah, notice how I'm not laughing."
Knowing that now was the time, Dean stepped forward with his offer, "Listen, Meg, you move on over to this side, we'll not only show you where the stuff's at, we'll see to it that you get your fair share. Not so sad seven."
She glanced over cautiously and paused to consider the offer, "Private room?" she asked at last.
Emphatically both brothers nodded.
Both the leader and the other man erupted angrily, "Meg!"
Dean dove right in again, "Your own room. Full run of the kitchen. A cut from every job. The whole kit n' caboodle."
The leader stepped forward threateningly, "Meg, I ain't askin'…"
Without even looking away from the brothers, Meg lifted her gun and shot both of the bandits in the leg, "Shut up," she ordered and turned seriously to the Captain, "So if I agree, it'll be you scratch my back, I kill for you, kind of deal?"
Dean grinned, "And a complementary breakfast each morning."
Meg pondered it a moment more.
"How big of a room are we talking here?"
An Hour Earlier
The Captain of the Walden and Dean were having a stare-down when the men started to return to the cargo bay. Immediately the other Captain turned to them waiting for a report.
"Ship's clear, Captain," reported the first man. Dean recognized him as the other voice from the telescreen call.
"You check the engine room?" The Captain asked.
The lackey nodded, "It's like he said. Catalyzer's blown. That's all he needs."
Dean spoke up from the background, "You know anything that's worth anything's really right here in the cargo bay. So take a look around, decide what you think is fair," he offered. This whole situation was making Dean incredibly nervous, even downright afraid. He was truly alone and helpless at this point.
The other Captain turned and smiled menacingly, "Oh, that's already decided."
So fast that Dean didn't even see it coming, the Captain lifted his gun and shot off one bullet that flew right into Dean's gut.
The Captain of the Impala fell to the ground just as the blood started to stain his shirt.
Oh NOES! D: And only two more chapters until we get to start the next story! It's the remake of Ariel and it'll be called "Inside Job".