A Force to be Reckoned With

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Author's Note: Thanks for everyone who dared to read this crossover and who was generous enough to encourage me to continue!

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Chapter 2

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A wave of the Force washed over Dean a moment before consciousness …and pain followed on its heels. Blinking his vision into focus, he again was viewing the bridge from the floor but even from that vantage point, he could see sparks flying from some of the boards, smoke was wafting in the air and most of his crew was on the bridge floor like he was. Knowing that seconds couldn't be wasted, even in the midst of a suicide, he rolled onto his side, gave a surprised, groan as a sharp pain emanated from his side and flared out to any nerve ending he had.

Lumbering to his feet with the aid of the banister, he stumbled to the empty chair at Navigation, found his fingers could still deftly skim across the controls to bring up the data grids. The results were grim: the Imperial Cruiser was directly behind them, had not waited for his ruse, had decided to actually make their Dead-in-the-Water pretense reality. Without looking to his right, he knew his Engineer Officer was back manning his station, awaiting his next order. "How are our deflector shields after that?"

"Rear shields are at 45%. Other shields remain at 100%, Captain," the Engineer Officer supplied.

"Reroute 90% of the power to the flank side. Navigator, bring this beast around slowly. Let them think about taking their best shot at our flank and begin a 5% drop in altitude. We'll draw them in and, when they open up with the rockets, we'll drop out of the way and let them blast apart the large asteroid behind us. The debris will rain down on them like a hailstorm…get sucked right into their engines…"

The Navigator smiled, knew just what debris in engines could do: cause the Imperial Cruiser to implode from the inside out. It was a brilliant plan, was as ingenious as it was reckless. And he had no need to mention their own close proximately to the asteroid would put them in the same danger. He knew they were already dead. That the only thing left to do was finish the mission, take out the Cruiser so it couldn't attack the convoy from the rear and sandwich the Rebel ships between the Cruiser his Captain believed was in the northern quadrant and the Cruiser they had coming up fast behind them.

As the Navigator Officer stumbled back to his position, Dean stood back, let his well trained crewmembers do their duties. Watched in pride as his officers set to the tasks he had ordered of them, even knowing that it would be their last stand, their last chance to pledge their loyalty and lives to the Alliance. "Fire Control, tell me when the Cruiser's proximity is within our laser range. Navigator, put us at a 20% angle on the port side, let 'em think we're drifting, crippled."

Through his side viewport, he could see the impressive Cruiser drawing closer, hesitant, wondering if its prey were as defenseless as it was acting. "Communications, put out a distress signal."

"Sir…the asteroids just send the messages pinging back to us. None of our ships are close enough to receive our signal," the Communication officer nervously pointed out his Captain's flaw.

Dean smiled wolfishly, "Oh, the only ship I need to hear it is the Empire's. And code them, make them think they've really accomplished something by intercepting and decoding them."

"Ah, Captain, Sir. Message sent."

Drawing in a breath, Dean closed his eyes, willed the Force to help him shut out his physical pain, to let him detect the enemy's movements as if he were there on their bridge, hearing their commands. But he couldn't fight the overwhelming need to search for his brother's signature among the Force's pull, to connect to his brother maybe for the last time. He nearly stumbled when his brother's life force seemed to send an electric charge to him, to coil around him. Then it was as if Sam was right there, yelling in his ear, 'Screw you Dean!!! I'm not going to let you die! You're just going to have to wait a good long while before you can go down in the Jedi annals as a dead hero because I'm going to save you, you nerf herding idiot!'

Eyes flying open, he shot back across the Force, 'No, Sam! Don't come after me! It's too late!' Could just begin to feel the tendril's of Sam's force essence when he realized it truly was too late. Too late to send another message to Sam, too late to have regrets, too late to do anything but follow through with his plan.

"Cruiser is within laser range sir and she seems ready to fire her torpedoes," his officer announced, though it was unneeded. Dean already knew that, had broken whatever slim connection he had just made with Sam at the realization that he had to be there for his crew, had to make his last moments to be about them…not about him, not about his need to say goodbye to Sam, to send a part of himself through the Force to Sam so that his brother knew he would always be with him. A Jedi's life could not be about sentimentality…Yoda had lectured on that time and time again. And Dean had always wondered, 'Then why did the Force even give us families?! Give me Sam if I'm not supposed to value him more, if I'm just supposed to treat him just like another asset to get a Jedi's mission done?!' There had never been an answer to that question, not in his own soul and never from any Jedi's text book he had ever read. So he had determined, that, like in all things, Winchesters were the exception to every rule. 'Well maybe we're not, after all,' he thought but it gave him sorrow instead of satisfaction to be proven wrong, to find that duty would come before his brother. That duty, that loyalty to the Alliance, to his crew would take him from his brother, would separate him and Sam forever.

"Navigator, on my mark, cut the repulsion engines and let us free fall," Dean tersely said, eyes on his enemy, his Force perception attuned to the Cruiser captain's mood. The Empire's Captain was a decisive man and Dean barely had out "Mark!" when his Imperial counterpart commanded, "Fire!"

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Following a trial of ion distinctive to the Impala's engines, the Stanford entered the asteroid field, found that the word close was reinvented here among the minefield of asteroid chunks. "Don't waste our lasers, just nudge through the smaller asteroids and dodge the bigger ones," Sam ordered, voice calm now that he was on his way to Dean, that he could almost convince himself that his resolve was stronger than any twisted whims of fate or the whisperings of near glee from the Dark Side.

"Sir, Imperial cruiser on my sensors! We'll be upon it in once we round this nearest large asteroid cluster," his Navigation officer supplied, voice full of urgency.

"And the Impala?"

The officer checked his sensors, waited a moment longer than most, knew his Captain expected results, needed them. "Wait, it's faint but I have her, Sir. I would project her position…" the navigator swung his look to his Captain's. "The Cruiser is bearing down on the Impala sir, has engaged her if the readings of particles in the atmosphere are correct."

"Get us into position to target the cruiser. Now!" Sam barked, hands fisted at his side again as he felt his ship obey his command, as the sight out the bridge viewport shifted from being filled by an asteroid to the unholy sight of the Imperial ship…confronting the listlessly drifting Impala. He was opening his mouth to give the command to open fire upon the Cruiser when the Imperials let loose two torpedoes. 'NOOOO!' screamed through Sam's head a second before his viewport filled with a flash of light. The explosion produced a backlash of gravity that pummeled the Stanford. Then a hailstorm of asteroids bombarded the Stanford's deflector shield and some slipped their way through to pound against the hull.

As his ship rocked under his feet, Sam Winchester, reputed Jedi Knight and Captain, stood immobile on the bridge, eyes unblinkingly staring out the front viewport even as his crew and his ship fought for survival. The klaxon echoed throughout the ship, screaming of sever damages, of danger but he didn't even blink. Couldn't! Not when his connection to the Force was winking out, not when he was willingly releasing the death grip he had always had on life. Found that, not much else mattered but joining his brother in the Force, of leaving before he became the monster he knew lurked in his soul now that his only anchor of light was gone.

"Sir! Sir!" the Second in Command gripped his Captain's arm but it did him no good, didn't break his Captain's stare from the viewport, from the last place they had seen the Impala which was now a dense grid of asteroids chucks and ship debris…all heading their way. "We need to get out of this asteroid field or we'll be torn to shreds!" Getting no reaction, he stepped in front of his Captain, gripped his tall friend's shoulders and shook him. "Sam! Dean risked himself to save you! Risked his crew to save us and the rest of the Rebel convoy! Don't throw his sacrifice away!"

Sacrifice. The word snagged onto the fledgling shards of Sam's soul that hadn't yet fled. Sacrifice was all Winchesters knew how to do. And Dean, he was…he had been the master of it. 'Regardless if anyone wanted that from him.' With eyes black with sorrow and loss, Sam looked to his friend, heard the klaxon for the first time, knew that his crew, his ship, they would die with him if he didn't get himself together…at least for a little while. "Take us back to a position behind one of the larger asteroids, give us some shelter."

"But sir…"

"Do it!" Sam growled, refusing to go far, to run away until he could decipher what had happened, could determine if the Imperial ship was destroyed. Wasn't going anywhere until he knew, absolutely, if there was any small glimmer of his brother's soul among the graveyard of asteroids. If there was any lingering part of his brother for him to cling to, to steal away in his heart to carry him into a future, even if that future could only boast of loneliness and despair. Because, his friend was right, Dean sacrificed himself so he could live and he couldn't throw that gift away…no matter how bitter a gift it was.

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It happened in slow motion, like he had used the Force to perceive an attack. Dean felt the Impala begin to free fall as the Imperial Cruiser opened fire, as he watched the torpedoes streak for them. "Brace for impact!" he yelled because they weren't going to get away clean, doubted if, in the end, they would get away at all. 'But we'll take this Cruiser with us,' he vowed before the torpedoes scored across the top of the Impala's hull, ripped away some of the deflector shield and sensor dishes and headed for the asteroid behind them.

"Full deflector shields on starboard!" he shouted.

"Engines sir?!" came instantly from his second in command, voice raised in fear as much as to be heard among the clamor of the klaxon and the grind of asteroid and gravity against their hull.

"No! No engines, we'll …" his next words were ripped from him as the torpedoes impacted with the asteroid, obliterated it into thousands, millions of pieces that was now as lethal as shrapnel. His Navigator had obeyed him without hesitation, had not ignited their engines, kept the Impala free falling. It was the only reason they didn't suffer the same fate as the Cruiser as the asteroids were flung far and wide, bombarded the Cruiser's deflection shields into surrender and rained down into the Imperial ship's engine. The unstable minerals in the asteroid's already super heated particles mixed badly with the engines' white hot blaze. In a flash of blinding light, the Imperial battleship imploded, adding its debris to the storm of asteroid particles heading for the Impala.

With no engines on line to counter the battering of its hull, the Impala went into a roll as asteroid and Imperial debris alike tore into his weakened armor. Only one of the bridge crew remained in his chair, at his station as the ship spun, with only the gravitational system keeping them from ending up against walls and ceiling instead of on the floor.

With a white knuckled grip and with Force wielded strength, Dean was still in his command chair. But found he had no one at their stations to follow his commands. Using the Force, he flicked a switch on the Engineer's console and he heard the engines of the Impala come to life. The ship still rocked under the assault outside but she basically held her place in space now that her engines were online, defied the whims of gravity and even inertia. Defied them but couldn't wholly counter them, which was proven as the Impala was shoved back a few meters under the wave of pressure, far enough to intersect brutally with a huge asteroid's elliptic rotation.

Dean could practically feel his ship coming apart, knew through the Force and within his gut, when his ship was torn asunder by the asteroid they had collided with, that had collided with them. Knew that parts of his ship, levels and areas of his ship were gone before the ship's automotive warning system's synthetic voice began its mantra. "Ship's airlock has been breached in levels 2, 3, 4, and the hangar bay. Fire in sections A through I. Hull breach at 45% shipwide."

A human voice spoke across the bridge, "Sir, deflector shields down to 20% and falling. Whatever small reserves of power we had for the engines, they are gone now," the engineer officer reported, eyes moving from his console to his Captain, who sat in his command chair, calm, prepared to meet his fate, their fate.

"Report on the Cruiser," Dean ordered, watched as the navigator crewmember slid back into his chair to consult the sensors.

"Destroyed sir," the navigator announced, awe and pride in his tone as he faced his Captain.

Taking in a deep inhale of breath, Dean activated his shipwide communication. "This is the Captain. We've destroyed the cruiser and hopefully gave the rest of our convoy the time and means to regroup behind the planet, to find a jump window for hyperspace. I'm sorry that I can't save us but know that, without your sacrifice, all our friends and family would have been killed here today. I'm proud of all of you and so it the Rebel Alliance. Captain out."

Clicking off the comlink, Dean winced as he leaned more heavily back into his chair, viewed the destruction on the battle deck, the flashing red lights on consoles spread out through the workstations. In the shape they were in, they wouldn't be able to break free of the gravitational pull of the asteroid field, couldn't limp to the closest planet, no matter that it was Imperial held. And he couldn't offer up a distress beacon. Wouldn't. Knew it would mean death to whatever ship came for them because the Imperials would soon venture into the asteroid fields in droves, would find them, would destroy them. The ship rocked under another collision with the asteroid that had already maimed them. 'Course maybe the asteroid fields will do us in before the Empire can,' he ruefully thought. Knew either way, their fate would be the same: they would drift here among the remains of rocks that might have once supported life a million years ago. Would themselves become debris in space, a warning and a hazard to wayward travelers.

He knew it felt wrong to feel alone surrounded by his crew, with the Force connecting him to the universe. But he couldn't weaken the hold of loneliness. Knew that only one person could. But he was glad Sam wasn't there, wasn't sharing his fate. Wished the Force to take good care of his little brother, especially since he would no longer have that honor.

Closing his eyes, shutting out the chaos around him, Dean concentrated on the Force, wrapped himself in it but didn't relinquish his soul into his keeping, not yet. Would not go before the last of his crew. Would guard them until they all drew the last of their breath, forsook this life for the next. No, what he sought now in the Force was selfish, not selfless. He could tell himself that it was for his brother but he knew it was for himself. He couldn't leave without knowing that Sam was safe, found he wouldn't willingly join the Force without saying goodbye to his brother.

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'Sam, are you through the asteroid field? Are you safe?'

'Dean?!' Sam exclaimed through the Force, joy and fear coiled in his voice as he sank into his command chair before his legs gave out on him. 'Are you…still …alive?' hope and desperation churning in him, breath held waiting for his brother's reply. He had heard tales of the most powerful Jedi being able to transcend death through the Force, to communicate to the living.

'Ah, yeah. I'm talking….well thinking at you, aren't I?! Are you …Ok, Sam?' Dean's smart aleck tone that morphed to concern came across the Force like his brother was at his side, was there with him.

'I am now,' Sam answered, hoping his audible laughter crossed to his brother as easily as it echoed across the Stanford's bridge. 'Where are you Dean? We lost you on our grids.' Even as he stepped up to his Navigator and tersely ordered, "The Impala's out there, find it," not caring that his crew was looking at him like he had finally snapped, had finally broken under the pressure.

"Sir, we've been scanning…"

"Find it. Please," he implored instead of ordered, saw the Navigational officer's protest turn to loyalty to his Captain.

"Sir, yes, sir," the officer quickly returned before he poured over his scanners, desperate to provide the hope his Captain needed. Proof of the miracle that his Captain believed in.

Humbled by the officer's loyalty to him, Sam felt a swell of gratitude hit him. He wasn't going to have to search for Dean on his own. Someone else, at least one person on this ship was going to help him.

"I'll have our sensors sift through the debris, follow ion trails, possible vector projectors for the Impala," his second in command announced, earning him his Captain's nod of agreement and a look of heartfelt indebtedness before he set to his self-assigned task.

With his search for Dean valiantly aided by his crew, Sam felt some of his fear for his brother's life lessen. Then he remembered Dean hadn't answered his question, hadn't told him his status or location. He was about to demand the answers when Dean did his big brother thing and focused on him.

'The question is, where are you? Has the convoy made it to the other side of the planet yet?' came Dean's worried yet hopeful inquiry.

'I don't know, Dean.' Sam honestly answered, felt only a tad guilty for putting his personal needs above the Rebellion's. But only a little.

"What? Why not?!' Then was a pause in their communication. A pause Dean didn't fill because he was putting the pieces together. And Sam didn't fill because he wasn't going to defend his choice, not to Dean. Dean never accepted that he was worth a risk or two, was worth Sam's life.

'You're not with the convoy are you?" There wasa deadliness in Dean's tone. But Sam knew the anger wasn't brought on by Dean's disapproval that he wasn't watching the convoy's back, was about Sam putting himself at risk…for him.

Instead of denying or defending himself, Sam heatedly restated his prior declaration. 'I told you I wasn't letting you go down in the Jedi annals as some hero…not yet, Dean. We followed your ion trail into the field, came upon the Imperial cruiser right before it fired on you and then. By Force, Dean, I thought you were dead! The Impala…she just went off our grid…like the Cruiser did.' And he knew his voice, even the voice that carried through the Force, it was trembling, conveyed his torment and terror at the belief that Dean had been killed, was lost to him.

"Sir! I've getting something in the southern quadrant. It's the Impala!' the Navigational officer reported with enthusiasm.

"Bring us to her side," Sam instructed then shot his look to his Engineer officer. "Our damage report?"

"Minimal. Our deflector shields held off most of the debris, Sir."

Relief washed over Sam. As much as he didn't hesitate to forfeit his life for his brother's, he didn't want his crew to pay for his choices with their lives. As the Stanford nudged and scraped its way through the asteroid field, the Impala came into sight out the bridge's viewport. Instantly, he felt like he had been ejected into space, that his lungs were frozen, were useless. If fire wasn't still flickering from numerous sections of the Impala, the Rebel craft would have looked like a long forgotten drifting relic, its hull punched with holes, seemingly moving only at the whims of the asteroid collision and the pull of the gravitational field.

"Dean," he breathed in horrific wonder, wasn't sure if it were aloud or in his head, reached his brother or just his bridge staff. Knew that, had he not been connecting with Dean internally within the Force, he would have crumbled under the weight of loss, of despair, certain that his brother, his anchor to the Light side was dead. "Damage to the Impala?" he asked, voice low, as if he were talking over the body of a dying comrade.

"She's dead in the water, sir," the Navigator gave in reply, hated his choice of words when he saw his Captain wince. "I mean…her engines are not on, her gravitational generator seems to be offline …and her deflector shields are down to 17% and …" the officer broke off his report with a sharp inhale of breath.

Sensing more bad news, Captain Winchester faced his officer, calmly insisted, "What?"

"Her hangar bay, it looks like it took a direct hit either from the Cruiser or some of the asteroid fallout." Then, he paused, knew what he was about to say, how it would affect his Captain, how it would snuff out the hope that was reborn only minutes prior. "The damage, it's extensive. I doubt if any ship is getting in or out of there. I'm sorry, sir." But instead of defeat, he saw his Captain's eyes spark with fire.

"Watch me," Sam growled with determination. "Open comlink channels."

"They are open, Sir, but the reception is going to be touch and go due to the magnetic field in this asteroid mess," the communication officer warned.

Sam didn't worry, knew that he could reach his brother with only a thought, didn't need technology, hadn't even needed the Force when they were kids. They had always known when they needed each other instinctively. 'And I need you now Dean. I need you to stay with me.' Because as happy as he had been to hear his brother's voice in his head, he had also sensed Dean's pain…and his hopelessness. Seeing the Impala, learning of its damages, Sam understood what had brought his brother to believe there was no hope for survival. That Dean had contacted him, not to give him coordinates so he could rescue him, but to say goodbye.

Angry that Dean would think, even for a second, that he would abandon him, would accept him as a casualty of war, as a means to an end, even to defeat the Dark Side itself, Sam gripped the armrests on his chair. Taking a deep breath of Force calming air, he spoke into the comlink, "Dean? Do you read me?" tried to keep the worry, the uncertainty, the need from his voice because this wasn't just between he and Dean, this was between he and Dean, his crew and Dean's crew. Dean would be pissed if he embarrassed him between their subordinates.

As if to prove his point, Dean's voice echoed through the Stanford's bridge, "That's Captain Dean to you or Jedi Knight Winchester."

Sam's smile was blinding, knew Dean had copped that attitude to get just such a reaction from him. "Yeah, right," he snorted. "How about we agree on laser brained idiot?" he taunted back with a laugh, almost giddy with relief that Dean still sounded like Dean, no matter the tight spot they were in. He felt his second in command shuffle on his feet beside him, drew his attention to the rest of his crew that were looking at him nearly slack jawed in disbelief. Knew their disbelief was two fold: that their sometimes uptight Captain was hurling insults, over a comlink…to a seemingly destroyed ship and was laughing about it. And they were equally stunned that Dean Winchester, reputed to be hot headed and a wild card of the first order was actually going to take that!? It only made Sam smile harder, because, very few of them had ever seen him and Dean together. Knew that, whatever he and Dean were apart, together they were something else, something better.

And Dean not only took his insult and but laughed at it. His brother's reaction would have been more encouraging had Sam not heard his brother's pain in the verbal gesture, not recognized the painful gasp for breath that it had ended with. "We're almost upon you, Dean," he reassured.

"What?!" Dean's voice barked over the Stanford's bridge. "No, Sam. You're supposed to be bringing up the rear of the convoy."

"Not without you," Sam declared, steel in his every word.

"Sam," and Sam felt sick at the plea, the endearment he heard in his brother's utterance of his name, "There's nothing you can do for me or my crew. Our hangar bay's toast."

"Well, I always wanted to prove that our emergency escape tubing would link to another ship. Guess now's my opportunity," he shot back, seemingly undeterred, trying to smother his doubts in the Force.

"It won't work, Sam. It won't seal, not with this gravity hole we're in. And even if it did hook up to the remains of our hangar bay or an open escape pod compartment, it would detach the first time an asteroid chunk jarred either of our ships," Dean rationally shot down his brother's scheme.

"So we use the Force to keep it together," Sam provided a solution to only one of the problems his brother had ticked off.

"And to keep our ships rock steady too?! Sam, it won't work. Don't try it! Just get your ship out of here before more Imperials swarm in here," Dean ordered, taking on his big-brother- knows-best-for-little-brother tone.

But Sam felt resentment surge in him, knew Dean was wrong. Knew that if Dean was right, he would know that the best thing for "little brother" was not to lose his big brother. "Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try," Sam sallied back, knew he was pushing Dean's buttons, wanted to.

"Do not quote Yoda to me," Dean growled over the comlink. "If these are the last words we share…"

"They aren't," Sam cut him off, his anger and resolve and need obvious to anyone that wasn't his thick headed brother. "I'll tell you when we're in position to seal the tubing to your hangar bay."

"Sam!" but Sam cut the comlink and mentally pulled down his shields. Whatever objections Dean had to him saving his life…he was just going to have to stow them away…until they were face to face.

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TBC

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Thanks to anyone who's still with the story! There are two more chapters to go.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.