Thanks to the usual suspects.

Chapter 14

The shadow congealed into a solid mass. It was the largest Rottweiler Starsky had ever seen. Before he could do so much as gasp, it was all over him. Huge paws knocked him over. Stacks of books rolled out of the bookcase behind him as they impacted with the shelves. The heavy reading material landed on top of him, hitting his head and blurring his vision. The dog locked its white fangs around the Beretta and ripped it out of his hands. He lifted his arms in an attempt to shield himself against the overwhelming force now lunging for his flesh.

Falling onto his back, Starsky frantically gripped its neck. Powerful muscles rolled beneath his fingers. However, his palms were slippery with the dog's mucus, and he failed to keep its jaws in check Teeth grazed his shoulder. Claws sliced his jacket, raking his skin. Knowing he was mere moments away from getting his artery ripped out, he panicked and started beating and kicking the Rottweiler on top of him. The dog pulled back for a second, its eyes conveying that it prepared for another lunge.

The Colonel's casual voice broke through Starsky's fright. "Did you know that dog's are my favorite people?"

Opening his mouth to yell a 'I don't care. Do something!' at the colonel, Starsky suddenly realized O'Neill was talking to the dog, not to him.

"And according to Daniel, you're suppose to be quite… intelligent," O'Neill boldly continued. "So, I'm taking a wild guess here, and assume that you understand me perfectly well, when I tell you," his voice lowered, "to get the hell off of him if you don't want me to decorate these books with your brains."

Amazingly, the dog froze. Starsky had to suppress the urge to gag at the Rottweiler's foul breath clogging his nostrils as its jaws hovered only inches above his face. Two massive paws pinned him down, its weight crushing his chest, making it hard to breathe. Claws dug in, but didn't break his skin. Afraid to make any sudden movement, he lay dead still on the floor.

Looking upward, he could make out O'Neill squatting close to his ear, aiming the Beretta at the Rottweiler's head. The dog's yellow eyes flicked to the Colonel, as if it was assessing the situation, as if it understood the threat.

Then, to Starsky's utter surprise, the Rottweiler stepped back and sat down on its haunches. He didn't need permission to move and violently backpedaled away from the fearsome creature, coming to a stop when he hit the bookcase behind him. Wiping sweat and dog drool off his face with one quick swipe of his arm, he managed to get his fast beating heart and rapid breathing under control.

"There's no need for all this violence. It wasn't going to hurt or anything."

The English accented voice resonating in his head didn't sound like the Colonel's. Starsky watched the dog in awe, unable to convince himself that it had actually spoken to him.

"Could you please ask 'Colonel trigger-happy' over there to lower the gun? I've been shot once. It's not an experience worth repeating. But…" At this point the dog unmistakably gave him a bemused grin. The slightly parting jaws looked very disconcerting. "I don't have to tell you that, do I?"

Tearing his eyes away from the dog, Starsky focussed on O'Neill, who didn't seem to have heard the voice.

The elder man caught his glance. "What?"

"It talks," was all Starsky could say.

O'Neill stared at him. "It does? What's it say?"

Self consciously, Starsky straightened his shirt and jacket. "It want's you to lower your gun…" He frowned, regaining some of his wits. "My gun."

"Really." O'Neill eyed the dog with suspicion, obviously having no intention of doing such a thing. "So how come I can't hear him?"

A valid question. Why should the Colonel believe him while he could hardly believe it himself?

"I tried, he has barriers."

Starsky's attention shifted back to the dog. "Barriers?" he repeated.

"Has to do with what happened to Doctor Jackson." The dog shrugged, which looked absolutely hilarious.

Starsky had trouble keeping his composure. He guessed it was a release of tension more than anything, but he couldn't prevent a nervous smile from showing.

"Well?" O'Neill demanded.

Looking back at the Colonel, Starsky suddenly realized he hadn't spoken out loud. "Uh… It says you have barriers that have to do with some Doctor."

A startled flicker of fear sparked in O'Neill's eyes. He moved in closer to the dog, took off the safety and addressed the creature directly. "What about Daniel?" he spoke threateningly.

"You don't accept death, so you can't hear me. It is that simple."

Starsky translated.

A look off pain crossed the Colonel's features. "Listen 'Kirby', I'm NOT-"

"Kirby?" Starsky eyed the dog again. "You know each other?"

Yellow eyes observed him. "We met… briefly. Not in the best of circumstances I'm afraid. Name's Cerberus… perhaps you've heard of me?" His face twisted in what looked like a frown. "No one's ever called me Kirby before."

"It's his name," O'Neill explained at the same time. He waved the gun at the dog. "I kinda shortened it." He looked extremely proud at the achievement. "Anyway, you might know him as-"

"Cerberus, really?" Starsky said. T'riffic, as if things weren't confusing enough I now have this mythical… dog, drooling all over my favorite shirt. He eyed the creature with suspicion. "Are you the one that bit my partner?"

Both the large Rottweiler and O'Neill nodded. O'Neill, answering his first question, was obviously impressed at his knowledge. The dog, answering the one about his partner, wore an innocent expression, which didn't fit a vicious hellhound at all. Starsky looked from one to the other. Carrying on two conversations at the same time gave him a headache.

Cerberus stood up, his stance changing from innocent to threatening, and lifted his upper lip. "And if the Colonel here had let me, I would've gotten you too," he growled through two sharp incisors.

Startled, Starsky jumped up from the floor.

O'Neill, who couldn't hear the dog talking but had no trouble interpreting the threat, waved the gun to draw attention. "I'm still armed here, you know."

Cerberus looked over his shoulder. "Ri-ght." With a thud, the dog sat back down again.

Starsky's tired sigh of relief ended in a cough. Cerberus' breath had a pungent sting to it. One that he suspected would stay with him even after he showered. It raised his nausea with a vengeance. Dizziness caught up with him. Attempting to clear his head, he wiped his face again.

"Uhm… I'd be careful if I were you." O'Neill warned, his aim steady on the dog. "The drool's all poison."

Starsky's hand jerked away from his face. A surge of deep worry instantly washed away his fear of the hellhound. "Poison," he stated, franticly trying to grasp the implication for Hutch.

O'Neill confirmed his fears. "Yeah, quite deadly too, if-"

A stone cold feeling settled deep inside his stomach. Not waiting for the Colonel to finish his sentence, Starsky swiveled back to the dog. "Antidote," he demanded.

"Who needs an antidote," Cerberus mocked. "Besid-"

Squatting, Starsky got up close in no time and locked Cerberus' jaws tightly together with both hands. The dog's thoughts ended in a muffled tone, and did he hear a shocked yelp? With their faces only inches apart, he enforced each word with a powerful jerk of the snout. "If Hutch dies, so will you."

Cerberus managed to lift a corner of his lip.

The resulting growl didn't deter Starsky in the slightest. He retorted with a growl of his own. "The antidote! Or I swear I'll-"

"There is none! It wouldn't work anyway," Cerberus interrupted, madly trying to pull himself free.

The sincerity relayed through those words raised Starsky's panic a notch. It took a tremendous effort to keep calm. He let go of the snout and looked up at Jack. "You knew about the poison. How 'bout the antidote?"

"I probably could have some people cook something up. But… it'll take a few days."

"Your partner has less than an hour left, before-"

The stone in his stomach plummeted to rock bottom. One hour! The nightmare he found himself in suddenly became frighteningly real, its images unfolding into a shocked conclusion Starsky was not prepared to see. The need to hurry washed over him. "You deal with him, I've gotta get back!" he shouted at O'Neill. He should never have left Hutch alone. Not in his condition.

Jack straightened. "What? No… wait! A friend of mine is with him! If there's a way to help him, he'll-"

A total stranger is with him right now? Oh God. Who knows what that guy'll do to him. Especially if he's military just like Jack here. Starsky shot the Colonel a death glare, rudely interrupting him. "He better not be there when I get back," he threatened, before darting off.

Rushing for the exit, Starsky heard O'Neill yell at him again. "Wait, Dammit!" It was followed by a sharp command, obviously directed at Cerberus, whom Starsky could picture had tried to make a move. "You stay put!"

He knew he shouldn't let O'Neill keep his gun. However, his common sense was drowned out by the overwhelming pull back to Hutch. Starsky hoped the Colonel and Cerberus would keep each other occupied for a while. Hang in there, Hutch. I won't let you… He couldn't finish his thoughts, refusing to give shape to the image of Hutch dying alone in this nightmarish world. Just… hang in there.

"If you're a Doctor, can't you do something about this rotten sickness the damn dog bite causes me?" Hutch asked, trying to clear his vision, while taking the steps down as quickly as he could. Not bothering to wait for the elevator, he'd immediately headed for the stairwell. As much as he would like to, running was out of the question. His sight kept blurring, and he had trouble moving his injured leg. The area around the bite felt frozen, causing him to limp forward. It didn't hurt though. Unlike his arm, which had cushioned his impact with the desk. His biceps burned and throbbed every time he took a step. It was the kind of ache he could ignore though.

"Sorry, I'm not that kind of doctor," Daniel answered, hoarsely, rubbing his sore throat.

Seeing double, Hutch stopped on the landing between the third and second floor. Catching his breath, he tried to get a clear picture of the man following him down. The double vision congealed into a hazy white mist. Hutch blinked, trying to get rid of the cobwebs in his head.

Daniel misinterpreted the silence. "I have a doctorate in Archaeology and several languages," he quickly added.

The surprising statement got Hutch out of his stupor. "Archaeology?" he repeated incredulously. What the hell was an archaeologist doing, saving his ass? "An archaeologist… with a gun?"

"Yep."

Wonderful, Starsky's never gonna let me live this one down. If I ever get to see him again, that is. The frightening thought pushed away the white fog in his mind, and he hesitantly continued down the stairs. Sheer willpower kept him putting one foot in front of the other. "So, who was that guy attacking me?" Talking kept him from focussing on how miserable he felt.

"As you must have figured out by now, you're no longer in the Bay City you knew. It's a different time and a different place… a different reality." Daniel walked in pace beside him, watching Hutch but careful not to crowd him.

"We had a hunch," Hutch muttered, relieved the archaeologist didn't ask every few steps if he was all right, because it must have been clear that he wasn't. Sweat dripped off his brow. It was hard to refuse the demands of his body, which told him to lie down.

"Right. The thing that transported you here, was the mirror on top of the landing above the cellar. Your partner must have touched it at some point," Daniel continued.

"Sure," Hutch continued muttering to himself. "The mirror. Why not?" Typical Starsky. Always touching stuff he shouldn't. Failing to see the connection between two cops and a man specialized in dissecting century old dust, he stopped again, this time on the second floor. "So, you- an archaeologist- decided to come after us, to get us back where we belong?" He swayed on his feet.

"Are you all right?" Daniel asked. "Maybe we should head up again. You're in no condition to…"

Hutch blinked and managed to focus on the archaeologist's bright blue eyes. There had to be a simple explanation. All he could think of was his first hunch. Daniel probably was linked to the government. He wished Starsky were here. His friend could spot a military man a mile away. "You haven't answered my question."

Daniel gave him a thoughtful look before answering. "The 'dog' was guarding… something. An entity that's been 'sleeping' in that cellar for thousands of years. You just met it."

Thousands of years? That explains an archaeologist's involvement. "Rodney Templeton? The guy who attacked us?"

Daniel shrugged. "It believes I can get it off this planet."

"Can you?" Hutch asked, not really expecting an answer.

"Yes," Daniel answered to Hutch's amazement. "I can."

So his first hunch was right. Daniel's connections ran high. Hutch suddenly had the feeling he'd become a pawn in some alien conspiracy theory. The ones Starsky always talked about. The thought of his friend made him stagger forward again, down to the first floor.

"But I won't," Daniel rattled on. "The entity, a Goa'uld, is evil. It can easily take over a human body as it has done with that man you call 'Templeton.' I and a friend of mine were sent to stop it."

"That still doesn't explain why you felt the need to track me down."

"We needed to make sure you weren't taken as a host. Since the Goa'uld has obviously taken residence inside Templeton, it's safe to say you and your partner are still… you."

At least that's something.

"There's something else," Daniel continued to Hutch's surprise. "The dizzy spells and delirium you are experiencing?"

"Were caused by the dog bite, I know, I know."

"Cerberus' bite is probably the reason Templeton left you alone. The poison is lethal and causes nausea and fever, yes. But it's not solely responsible for the 'feeling of disconnection,' which I'm sure you have been experiencing?"

Halfway between the second and first landing, Hutch was forced to stop again. Disorientated he glanced back upstairs, then downstairs. Sit down… that sounded good right now. "It… isn't?"

"No, I've seen this before. You don't belong here, and this universe is making an effort to throw you out so to speak. In the end it will…" The archaeologist hesitated.

Hutch watched him through blurring vision. "What? Kill me?"

Daniel nodded, gravely.

"But… what about Starsky? How come he's not affected? Isn't he? You sensed it Hutchinson, you knew he didn't feel well the moment he came out of that bathroom, but you blamed it on something as subjectively as lack of control.

"He will be."

The statement sent a bone chilling coldness through his spine, unexpectedly sapping the strength out of his legs. Try as he might, Hutch couldn't stay upright. The intense cold made him moan. Involuntarily, and with a low grunt, he sank down on his knees. Overwhelming fatigue nailed him to the floor, his fingers twitching as he reached out for the wall beside him.

"I better get you back upstairs," a presence next to him spoke.

No! He had to get to Starsky. It was important. It was…Confused he blinked at the steps leading down to the first floor. His vision wavered, the steps transforming into an abyss he was sure he had to cross… somehow. Get up! Hutchinson. Get up!

"C'mon, I'll get you up," a voice echoed in his thoughts. Hands were trying to keep him steady.

This wasn't Starsky talking to him, was it? This man had helped him. He knew that much… Daniel. Yes, that was his name. Where was Starsky? Why wasn't he here? Disillusioned, he shrugged off the stranger's hands and tried to stand up. Ceiling lights projected an eerie glow, turning the red carpet into a fiery haze.

Warmth called to him, sending dark enticing fingers through his fogged mind, eagerly devouring the cold and pain in his enflamed muscles. Peaceful drowsiness compelled him to give in. He consciously made an effort to shove away the warmth rolling over him like a blanket. Instantly, he felt torn apart, arms and limbs shaking uncontrollably, as if outside forces battled for dominance over his body. He opened his mouth in shock, but couldn't scream, just groan in a desperate plea for the pain to go away. In answer, a merciful numbness spread over his body.

The first floor rushed up to meet him as he fell head long down the stairs. Then all encompassing darkness knocked out his awareness.

Tbc