I do not own Star Trek 2009, Supernatural, NCIS, NCIS: LA, Stargate SG-1 or Pirates of the Caribbean. *whew* That's getting to be a long list.

Impala

In many ways, piloting through SG-1's universe was always a quiet, beautiful ride. The more Sam studied the different universes, the more similarities he found – and more differences. For example, in Sam's universe this particular route to Earth was usually littered with Starfleet cruisers and trader ships and private craft. The SG-1 route was empty of ship traffic and Sam could appreciate the beauty of stars he was used to seeing littered with probes, satellites and ships.

Normally he would take a moment to look, to enjoy the difference. Right now, the acting captain's attention was riveted on the problem before him. Time was ticking by and still the Impala's scientists weren't getting anywhere. They had updated SG-1 as soon as communications would allow and Stargate Command had promised to pass the conundrum on to Rodney McKay for good measure.

When the Impala assumed Earth-orbit, the command crew and a select team of Sam's scientists beamed down to Cheyenne Mountain. "Wow," Shari whispered to Castiel. "It's like being in a time warp!" Sam shot her a quelling look. SGC's tech might be running behind Starfleet's in certain areas but that meant practically nothing when it came to the calibre of SGC thinking. They were experienced in the strangeness of space and were used to impossible situations, more so than most Starfleet captains.

"Commander Winchester," General Landry greeted cordially. "A pleasure to see you again. I wish it was under better circumstances. Lieutenant Colonel Carter is this way. Daniel also has some artifacts he'd like to show you, see if they spark any ideas."

Sure enough, Carter and Daniel had a whole list of new information for the Impala crew. "We have the time-travelling puddle jumper specs here," Carter began after a quick nod hello, "and the energy readings of the coordinates from which the jumper has moved through time. Daniel would like you to take a look at the alternate reality mirror. I know you think you can eliminate reality jumping, but the better informed we are – "

"The fewer mistakes we make," Sam finished. "Seriously Sam, Daniel, everyone, thanks." He glanced around Carter's lab. Daniel was already jabbering away with Shari and perceptive Mitchell had sat a fretting Castiel down in the corner, tackling the disappearance from a pilot's viewpoint as Teal'c loomed reassuringly over their shoulders. Retired General Jack O'Neil appeared to have taken up the official title of SG-1 mascot, bringing back an entire platter of food and drink for what would undoubtedly turn into an all-night affair. The pretty blonde nodded briskly.

"No problem. Now, let's see what you brought me."

Starbase 5

It was a God-forsaken mess. They hadn't realized how vulnerable the Federation was until it was put under the right sort of stress. Planets were clamoring for reassurances as people around the galaxy put runs on the banks. Suddenly certain systems were holding vital resources hostage from everyone else and Starfleet ships with defensive capabilities were suddenly coming under attack. Politicians, billionaires, anyone with anything to lose was demanding adequate protection from the big hitters in Starfleet's stables.

Enterprise was missing.

Pike had closed himself in his office for a few minutes of peace and rested his hot forehead against the glass. He hadn't made it off the star base. The Miranda-class ship was still sitting in space dock but only because someone had made off with the dilithium crystals that powered her. John Winchester was organizing a militia of sorts, allowing the star base's security officer to batten down the hatches.

Pike had lost contact with every admiral in the Fleet except Vance, who had wisely ducked onto the Los Angeles as the big ship passed him by at Starbase 3. Earth was under siege but holding steady last Pike had heard. Still, Pike had had communications cut off so that Starbase 5 wouldn't draw attention to itself. He didn't trust the system any more. There were too many holes. If Sam or Uhura were here to say the communications transmissions were clean, it would be a different story.

Still, there was nothing stopping them from passively monitoring the news transmissions, the only thing that seemed to be working these days. And the news was all bad. Romulans and Klingons were making bold forays to Federation worlds and establishing themselves there. Evidence of a central leader lurked in the shadows. Someone was giving the Federation's enemies direction. Not orders, precisely (as was clear when one gung-ho Klingon ship broke off their sensor sweep and picked a fight with the Washington) but definite strategic guidance.

Riots were breaking out. Civilians were dying. Starfleet was being looked to for guidance and any person in authority with a lick of sense wasn't overreaching themselves trying to be a hero. Pike's communicator had been vibrating off the hook until Miyuki couldn't field the desperate calls for help anymore. Pike had friends scattered across the galaxy and most of them were looking to him for help.

Right now, all he could protect was this one little star base and even that wasn't a sure thing. A twinge of pain ran up the back of his legs and he shuffled his feet against the memory of that accursed worm working its way into his body. In order for anyone to do anything, they needed to regroup and right now he was fighting a purely defensive battle.

"Sir?" Miyuki asked through the intercom.

"Yes?" he replied wearily.

"Joanna is here, sir. She has something for you."

McCoy's little sweetheart? "Send her in."

Pike turned around and tried to rearrange his face into something less depressed. His jaw dropped.

Joanna McCoy was dressed like a very adorable pirate, eyepatch and all. Pike had heard about the Disney World 4 fiasco* and the little girl's confidence. "Arrr," she growled and then coughed a little, continuing in her real voice. "Grandpa John says you need a plan and Uncle Dean says I'm good at plans so I came to tell you all about it. I'm Captain Jo-jo, supreme commander of the stars and seas." She crossed her arms importantly, a twinkle in her eye.

Pike gestured to his big chair with a flourish and her eyes widened in excitement. Plopping into the admiral's chair, she poked at the holographic map of the sector they were in. "Grandpa John says we're not in a good spot," she began knowledgeably. "They're expecting us to hide."

"And?" Pike asked seriously, sitting in the visitor's chair and beginning to enjoy himself.

Jo-jo leaned forward very seriously. "We must embrace one of the oldest and noblest of pirate traditions – we must fight. To run away."

Pike drummed his fingers on his desk. "We don't have a ship."

Joanna stared at him like he was slow. "We're in space. We don't need much power to hide, especially if we're not in a hurry. I learned that in school last year."

He stared back at the small mite. She was right! It was basic zero gravity physics and he couldn't believe he'd forgotten it. Getting a star base to move wasn't hard. That was why it was so easy for a small deep-space tug to move a huge cargo mass. As long as you weren't in any sort of hurry, it could be possible to move the star base to a hidden location. For example, if they moved the star base a few hundred kilometres, it would actually be located in the asteroid field nearby. The star base was primarily a scientific research and ore-mining facility. Placing the star base in the field itself made no tactical sense prior to the stock market crash because then only a Constitution-class vessel could contact her.

Now, of course, that was precisely what Pike wanted and it had taken the wisdom of a child to point it out. She had disregarded all the 'complications' and cut through to the best solution. The chief engineer should be able to jury-rig some sort of propulsion system.

He let Jo-jo stay and watch with wonder as he barked orders with a renewed vigour. It took them forty-eight hours to cannibalize a series of propulsion engines capable of pushing the star base into its new hiding spot. They finished none too soon. Just as the asteroids settled around Starbase 5, released from the shuttles that had been pulling them back into the clear path the star base had created when she pushed her way in, a small squadron of Klingon ships arrived in close proximity to the asteroid field. The star base was immediately spotted but like a turtle, she currently had an impenetrable shell.

Pike sat in his office again, watching the warbirds probe futilely at the dense asteroid field. They wouldn't get in. Even a Constellation-class cruiser would think twice. Pike still gritted his teeth. He had saved all the people here but now he was trapped.

How many would die while he sat stagnant and safe in this steel coffin?

Washington

"Why…couldn't…Impala share?" Dinozzo demanded through gritted teeth as he piloted desperately through the hail of Romulan ships trying to corner the Washington. "We could use an Atlantean shield right about now. Jumping to warp, captain."

"Go," Gibbs ordered.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when the stars blurred around them. "What a damn mess," Dinozzo muttered and Gibbs let it slide. His crew was exhausted. Most Starfleet ships had taken up stationary positions around defendable star bases, giving them time to regroup, to sleep without fear of being snuck up on. Washington was still trying to hunt down Lucifer and it wasn't going well. They had gotten a bead on him a few days ago but that had taken them into Romulan infested space. Washington had been on the hop ever since.

"McGee, find us a hiding spot," Gibbs requested. They needed the downtime. Abby had actually snapped at her beloved engineering crew and broken a tool on the sputtering shield generators. Gibbs couldn't remember the last time Abby had broken a tool and she'd been keeping his ships running for years.

"Got one boss," McGee reported wearily, rubbing at his red eyes.

"Park us there Dinozzo and then get the night shift up here. We'll restart the search in twelve hours."

He shepherded his exhausted crew off the bridge and went down to dig Abby out of the engines. A haggard lieutenant pointed in the direction of the abused shield generators where Abby was mournfully apologizing to both the tool and the generator for losing her temper. "Hey Abs," Gibbs said cheerfully despite his own exhaustion. "Come on, up and at'em. The generator and the tool will forgive you tomorrow. You need some sleep." She glowered at him and prepared to argue but Gibbs was having none of it. He gently hoisted her up and guided her out of engineering, a firm hand on her elbow.

"What if I missed something?" she whispered after her rant about nasty Romulans trailed off. "What if McGee and I missed something and Lucifer is free because of us?" Ah, there was the real problem.

"I don't think you did," Gibbs said gruffly, "but you'll take another run at the evidence in the morning after you fix the shield generator. If there's something to find, you'll find it." Abby yawned catastrophically wide and Gibbs actually heard her jaw pop. "No staying up to work on it in your room either."

"Got it," she drawled sleepily and padded into her quarters.

He checked infirmary next. Ducky had gone off shift like a sensible physician, leaving talkative Dr. Palmer on duty.

Gibbs should have gone to bed after that but despite the fatigue building up, his brain just wouldn't shut off. Was chasing a ghost really the best use of Washington's resources? The galaxy was falling apart – reports were rolling in about casualties, about entire systems dissolving into anarchy as greed, fear, malice and anger ran rampant. Perhaps Washington should join the Earth blockade. But no, that was just a stop-gap technique. If he ran down Lucifer, he had to trust that Sam Winchester would get Enterprise and his brother back. As the flagship, Enterprise was a rallying point – if she showed up and told the entire Federation to get a grip the way Gibbs wanted to, the Federation would get a grip. In order for that to happen, she had to be free of Lucifer's threat. Gibbs would only catch the bastard if Gibbs was at his best.

So despite his buzzing thoughts, the Washington's captain paced down the hallway to his quarters. Sleep first. Look after himself so he could look after the crew so they could do their part to clean up this mess.

Enterprise

"Don't be a damn fool," Kirk growled. "You do not have to die right here, right now. Chekov, lock onto the moron and hold him in the transporter buffer so he can't hurt himself."

Sam paled and Kirk squinted at the man. There was something off about him. Sam hadn't had a knife scar on his left cheek. At least not one several years old. "Sam?" he asked inquiringly, curiosity getting the better of him. The man was most definitely Sam but now that he looked closer, Kirk could see that Sam's shoulders were bowed and there was a dim veil over the usually sharp eyes. This was not their Sam Winchester. "Belay that, Mr. Chekov. Talk to me Sam and do it now. Firstly, who the hell are you really?"

Not-Sam pulled himself into the captain's chair on his smoking, battered ship. "I'm Sam Winchester," he admitted, "but not the one you know."

"I gathered as much." Kirk scowled. "Keep talking, alternate Sam."

Alt-Sam sighed. "It started eight years ago. At least, I think it did. In my universe, the stock market crashed. Instead of sending Washington to look for Lucifer, the Enterprise was drafted. Washington disappeared, probably in the same time slip you encountered. It doesn't matter. Enterprise got damn close to snagging Lucifer. Too close. I still don't know what happened, not entirely. We found the message buoy a week later." Alt-Sam swallowed. "Somehow, Lucifer had sucked the entire ship into a yellow star. All hands were lost."

Kirk's heart pounded and activity on the bridge stilled. "We're dead?" he asked hoarsely. Alt-Sam shrugged listlessly. "That's just retarded," Kirk blurted indignantly. "I let us get yanked into a star? That's…that's…" He sputtered for a moment longer.

Alt-Sam's hand crept up to cover his forehead, rubbing at a nasty bruise. "You have no idea how much it hurts to hear you talk," he rasped. "You left the last message personally, you know. It nearly killed Dean to listen to it. He became – that's not true. We all became obsessed with hunting Lucifer down. It was revenge, pure and simple. We let the whole Federation burn around us as we chased him around the galaxy. Lucifer left a trail of massacres in his wake. I stopped off on Earth to try and gain some new recruits while Dean took a short jaunt over to Mars. The Impala needed some new dilithium crystals." Alt-Sam paused. "Lucifer blew up the whole planet just to kill my brother."

The bridge was dead silent.

Alt-Sam took a shuddering breath and continued. "I saw everything. I was laughing at Dean's latest retarded joke via communications, waiting for them to pick me up. I could see them on the long-range scanner. And then the whole screen flared white and when I switched from scanner to long-range vid, all I could find were rocks and shattered metal."

Damn. Kirk took a deep breath. And another. "So?"

"Lucifer caught me," Alt-Sam said with a ghastly smile. "He caught me and when it turned out that I was more interesting than he was, his partner killed Lucifer."

"Partner, what partner?" Kirk demanded. They needed that information.

"Crowley," alt-Sam shuddered. "His name is Crowley. He kept me like a dog as he destroyed planet after planet just because he could. Fortunately," his voice choked hysterically over that word, "he explained everything to me so that when your Sam rigged up his half-assed, Walmart-issue time machine and accidentally ripped me out of my reality, I knew enough. I told him what I'm telling you and waited until he left me alone with the time machine. I recalibrated it and took it with me when I hopped back in time to grab you. My calibration wasn't as accurate as I'd hoped, so I've been waiting for about five years for you to show up. The Vulcans think I'm crazy but my losses have made me a damn useful resource, so here I am with my falling apart ship. I've dodged entropic cascade this far but I'd rather not experience its slow, painful death, so," he closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. "Can I die now?" alt-Sam asked hollowly.

"Sure," a raspy, familiar voice startled alt-Sam right out of his chair. "Go ahead. Damn coward." Dean Winchester's jaw was tight, muscle jumping along it, his eyes bright and hard. "From what I understand, my – other me's – death is no way your fault. In fact, if I met that me, I'd knock his ass into next week for not keeping his eyes open. But you, you're my brother. If you end up wherever we go after death and you're dead because you wanted to escape living, I'd be pissed for eternity. We're Winchesters. We get knocked down, we get kicked in the balls but we stand up when the bell rings for the next round because we've got either the courage or the stubbornness to do so where other people don't. You're a Starfleet officer that's needed in the here and now. I've been talking to your men downstairs. They're a little scientific for me personally but they'll follow you in to hell. In fact, they're of the belief that's exactly what happened and they're still spitting piss and vinegar unless we return you to them. So you go ahead. You die on them." Dean leaned forward, hands fisted on the Enterprise's back rail. "You leave them just like I left you."

Alt-Sam flinched and shuddered, emotional pain wracking him like a seizure. "You…you bastard."

Dean kept hammering. "I am a bastard. I am most definitely a bastard for getting myself killed," and suddenly Jim knew that Dean Winchester would never, ever die on their Sam, not after witnessing this broken shell of a man, "but that does not give you the right to make the same shit decisions I did. Get it? Now, get your ass off the floor because you are being transported over to this ship. That's an order, Commander."

Kirk nodded to Chekov. "Straight to Bones," Kirk ordered quietly. "Play all of this on vid for him. He's got a real mess to straighten out." Chekov nodded, his face ashen. Alt-Sam was successfully transported over and Enterprise backed up to a safe distance just before the Vulcan ship exploded. "Spock, Dean, with me," Kirk ordered. "Mr. Sulu, you have the conn." Rattled, Sulu nodded and gripped his pilot's console hard to hide the fact that his usually rock-steady hands were shaking like an old man's.

It was proof of how upset Dean really was when he followed Kirk's order compliantly now that the first rush of fear, anger and grief had sapped him of the adrenaline-fuelled strength. He tagged along after Kirk and Spock like a lost kite. Kirk paused outside the infirmary. "Spock, I need you to convince alt-Sam's men that we're allies. Naturally, you will have to come up with some sort of plausible story."

Spock arched an eyebrow. "Captain, I cannot tell a lie."

"Exactly," Kirk replied. "I want that credibility on our side. I know you can get creative with the truth – tell them what they need to hear to believe us but make sure they don't know too much, understood? We're playing with history here and it could have huge ramifications."

Spock's mouth thinned just a fraction but he nodded in understanding. "Very well, captain." The Vulcan strode off and Kirk could already smell the smoke coming out of his first officer's ears. Spock would have to think very carefully about what he had to say and he'd probably enjoy it, even if he'd never admit it.

"Dean. Dean-o," Jim said, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Talk to me."

Dean was standing in the darkest corner of the corridor, his eyes shadowed. "What the hell kind of man was that Dean Winchester?" he asked in a deadened tone of voice. "And what does that say about me?"

"Hey. Hey. Look at me. He is not you. He is not you. There is no way that's possible. Look me in the eye and tell me you'd abandon the Washington to nothingness just to hunt down the bastard who had killed me. I know you. You'd find Washington first because that crew might have been alive. Then you'd have gone after Lucifer and you'd have kicked his screaming ass into hell personally." Jim put every ounce of belief he possessed into that statement. "I know that because it's what I'd do and our priorities run on the same track. Different reality, man. Different reality, different people, different decisions, different lives."

"You believe that?" Dean asked.

"Damn straight I do. Alt-Sam didn't say a thing about SG-1."

"So?" Dean asked with the first stirring of courage.

"SG-1 are good friends of ours. There's no way they'd leave us in the lurch like that. That's a key difference in the sequence of events. They never knew SG-1, never had the knowledge we do or the resources through SG-1. Hell, I'll bet the first person that jumped to Sam's mind when he thought about alternate realities and time travel was Sam Carter." Jim watched hope brighten in Dean's face.

"Yeah, you're right."

"Of course I'm right, dumbass."

"So I should go in there and put that Sam back together."

Kirk nodded emphatically. "He wouldn't have been able to befriend so many Vulcans if he hadn't been clinging to some sort of hope. He's not lost Dean, and neither are we. We're just in the dark at the moment."

Dean's shoulders straightened. "I know that, you ass. You don't have to remind me." Despite the crass verbal response, his hand rested briefly on Jim's shoulder with a small squeeze of thanks as he strode confidently into the infirmary, his head high and spine determined.

Jim watched him go until he was sure Dean wasn't going to turn around. Then he sagged against the wall.

Now he just had to convince himself that the last little bit was true because they still had no way home. An entire Constitution-class cruiser and one unreliable, kitchen-scrap time machine? No way that was going to work.

There was no one around, no cameras, no worried ensigns, so Jim let go of the captain's persona, just for a second. He stopped forcing himself to hold it all together and allowed himself the luxury of expressing his true feelings in one single word.

"Shit."

*Prank Defencers, Chapter 15