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phantismaFandom: Supernatural / SGA Crossover
Title: Mirror, Mirror
Characters/Pairing: Sam, Dean, John Sheppared, Ronon, Rodney McKay, Teyla
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2575
Summary: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
apieceofcake, a "Don't Think We're in Kansas" prelude/interlude. This is not exactly the prompt, which was for a day before the SPN boys meet the SGA folks, because I kind of got carried away. It starts out before they meet, and kind of retells part of the story from the SPN boys POV.
A/Ns & Warnings: Over here I did that time stamp meme.apieceofcake asked for this. Pre-slash.
Sam sat up slowly, wincing in pain. He wasn’t sure what hurt more, his head or his arm. The blood on his arm convinced him it was probably that. He shifted so that he could get a better look with the slowly dying light of his flashlight.
“Dean?”
There was a groan and Sam flashed the light in that direction. Dean pushed himself up, squinting into the light. “Sam?”
“You okay?”
Dean’s face squished up and he looked around them. “Think so. You?”
“I think I broke my arm.”
“Where are we?”
“Hell if I know.”
Last thing he remembered was the mirror. It was huge and strange…the reflection dark and nothing like the room around them. Dean had reached out to touch it, just as Sam grabbed him and tried to stop him. He wasn’t sure why, just that it didn’t seem right.
Then everything went dark, the floor tilted away and they’d tumbled. He flashed the light around them while Dean felt around in the dark for his light. “I think it’s a cave.”
“How the fuck did we end up in a cave, Sam?” Dean found his light and stood, shining the light around him. Rock and more rock.
Sam sighed and leveraged himself upright with his good arm. “Well, maybe if you didn’t have to touch every goddamn thing…”
“No, this isn’t my fault.” Dean said defensively. “It was a freaking mirror Sam.”
Sam shined his light at the wall, wincing a little as his head throbbed. The wall of the cave seemed to be a similar mirror, the scene on the other side a lot like the warehouse they’d been in. “Huh…you think we came through it?”
Dean came to stand next to him. “People don’t walk through mirrors, Sam.”
Sam tilted his head, trying to remember a vague bit of lore. “Lots of cultures have mirror lore…openings to other dimensions, stuff like that.”
“So we’re in another dimension, Sam? I don’t buy that. It’s probably some secret passage to the old man’s stash or something.” He headed away.
“Hey, where you going?”
“To have a look around. If he’s got a secret passage, maybe we’ll get lucky and find his bones so we can salt and burn ‘em and get back on the road.”
Sam nodded in the dark and set off after him, picking his way carefully around the rocks on the floor of the cave. His stomach twisted and his head throbbed. He probably had a concussion. He cradled his broken arm to his chest, blinking as he emerged into the sunlight.
The cave was situated half way up a rather large hill. All around them the ground looked as though it had been burned. No trees and the grass was all brown and black, what grass there was. “I don’t think we’re going to find any bones.” Sam said.
“There’s a road.” Dean pointed. Sam squinted into the bright light. Before Sam could say anything, Dean was setting off down the hill. Sam scurried to catch up, grabbing his brother’s shoulder as the world spun under him.
“Wait.” Sam sat hard on a rock, lifting his right hand to the knot on his head. “Just…gimme a sec.” His words sounded kind of slurred, like he’d been drinking.
Dean’s face transformed from pissy to concerned. “You hit your head?”
Sam’s fingers brushed the raised not and he swooned. That wasn’t good. “Yeah….’s okay.”
“Like hell.” Dean tilted Sam’s head to get a better look. “Shit. Let me see the arm.”
“No.” Sam cradled the arm to him, he didn’t want Dean touching it and making it hurt worse. “It’ll be fine until we can get back to town.”
“Hate to break it to you Sam, but I don’t think we’re anywhere near the town.” Dean sighed, hands on his hips. “Hey, there are people down there.” He pointed. “Maybe they can give us a lift.”
“A lift?” Sam was clearly pissed off. Not that Dean could blame him. Dean pulled on the restraints for maybe the hundredth time. “A lift Dean?”
“Shut up Sam. I’m trying to concentrate.”
He didn’t understand the language of the people who had taken one look at him and Sam and promptly thrown them to the ground and tied them up. He understood the chains that they’d exchanged the ropes for, and the tone of voice.
They were in trouble. Clearly.
Sam was hurt, and from the look in his eyes, the concussion was enough to worry about. The way Sam had yelled as they manhandled the arm had him concerned too. He just couldn’t comprehend where the hell they’d ended up. How could they end up in a cave on the side of a mountain in the middle of nowhere when they’d started out in a warehouse in Kentucky looking for a way to end the ghost of a crazy bank robber who’d died in 1920?
The people who had caught them had kept them moving all afternoon and well into the night, then settled them in a tent, chained together, the ends of those chains staked into the ground. So far, they weren’t budging.
Not that Sam was up to running anyway, even if they did get loose.
It was almost dawn, judging from the reddish light creeping over the horizon. He supposed that would mean more walking. The goofy looking guy Dean had figured to be the leader emerged from his tent, his purple robes swishing loudly as he came to them.
He rambled at Dean, turning his face, this way and that and grinning broadly. Obviously he liked what he saw. “I have a really bad feeling about this Sammy.” Dean said softly as the others began emerging from various tents and setting about breaking up camp.
It wasn’t long and they were being unchained from the stake, and pushed into position behind the guy in purple. Sam staggered a little, catching himself on Dean’s shoulder. “You okay?”
Sam didn’t answer, but Dean didn’t have time to worry, he was being tugged to follow the leader guy. “Sammy?”
The man who seemed to be in charge of keeping him and Sam in line slapped him. “Okay…no talking. I get it.”
It had to be halfway to noon when they were joined by another guy in purple, and his entourage, including about 8 men also in chains. There was some sort of negotiation, then he and Sam were added to the back of that line of prisoners and the walking resumed.
“Hafine. Panka mere no ba.” The new guy was bigger, and he caught Dean’s head, turning it to the side. He put something on Dean’s neck and it bit into him, digging it’s way into his skin.
Dean yelled and reached for it, only to have the big guy slap his hands. “Hafine. No ba,” the man repeated.
“Don’t have a clue what that means, dude.” Dean said through gritted teeth as the device finished it’s work and the pain receded.
The guy poked a finger at him, then went to Sam to repeat the process. “Hafine, no ba.”
Once he was done implanting whatever the fuck the thing was in Sam’s neck, they were off again. The whole thing made no sense whatsoever. None. It made even less sense as they rounded a large hill and set out down a road leading toward a small city. Only not any city Dean had ever seen.
He concentrated on keeping his feet moving, on watching the world around them, hoping something would start to jive. That is until they were brought to the cages. Dean balked, and the big guy pushed some device on his wrist. Despite everything, Dean’s body just walked into it, and he was pretty damn sure he didn’t tell it to. Sam had to duck his head to get in beside him. The chains were released and the cage door shut.
“What the fuck?” Dean asked under his breath.
“This is all your fault.” Sam said. His face was pale and he was clutching his injured arm.
“Let me look at it.” Dean touched his hand, but Sam yanked it away. “Dude, calm down.”
“I will not calm down. You got us into this.”
Dean put his hands on his hips and stared at his brother. “Why is it my fault?”
Sam’s face was contorted in anger and pain. “Maybe if you didn’t feel the need to touch everything, we wouldn’t be…wherever the hell it is we are.”
“I don’t—“ Dean stopped, staring past Sam, out the flap of the tent that hid the cages. A man ducked inside, squinting at them. He pressed something on his wrist and nodded, then disappeared again. Dean opened his mouth up to say something—but no sound came out.
He frowned and tried again. When nothing happened, he gestured at Sam. Sam likewise tried to say something, but they were both silenced.
Dean paced away, fuming. He was back to thinking that this made no sense. Everything was all fucked up, and way beyond their usual brand of fucked up. The flap moved again and the man returned, bringing a woman and three men with him.
“Is pretty, yes?” the man asked. Dean realized the man meant him and glared, before turning his eyes to the obvious leader of the small group. He was wearing some sort of uniform, with an American flag on the sleeve.
Dean started asking questions, even though no sound came. He tried screaming. His face was hot, his head hurt with the effort to make himself heard.
“He has sparked much talk as he came to be here. Already offers.”
The man in uniform held up both hands, but Dean was no where near ready to be placated, especially not by strangers.
“Rodney, don’t you have a pair of jeans like those?” The man caught Dean’s eyes and gestured for him to lift his shirt.
The man in purple made a twirling motion with his finger. Dean’s fury increased as he glared back at the uniformed man, then he was turning and lifting his shirt. It only infuriated him more.
“Wranglers?” the one called Rodney said quietly. He looked at the leader and back, his mouth slightly open. He squinted up at the Sam, then nodded. “Yeah. Brought them back last time I went home.”
Sam moved closer to the bars, looking at the leader intently.
“Where are they from?”
The man in purple spoke to the woman briefly and she nodded. “They came out of the place of which they do not speak.”
“What does that mean?”
“He will not explain further.” she responded.
“He is most pleasurable?” The guy looked hopeful, though Dean couldn’t figure out what he meant by pleasurable.
“They are both…pleasurable.” The guy looked uncomfortable, watching Dean and Sam, then looking to Rodney as if there were answers.
“No…he is too tall…too weak. Macunta. Macunta a par.”
“He is injured,” the woman translated.
“So?”
Dean was staring daggers at them now. He moved closer to Sam, holding the injured arm, turning it so they could see.
The man in purple spoke to the woman and bowed briefly before disappearing out the front of the tent. “They are to be separated. The injured one is unfit for more than field work, and is not expected to survive long. The other is meant for softer duty.”
Both Sam and Dean looked at her. What the fuck was that supposed to mean. Sam was fine, aside from a bump on the head and the broken arm. People don’t die from broken arms. And what the fuck did he mean about field work, or softer duty…because from where Dean was standing it was beginning to sound as though the guy in purple was trying to sell him to the guy in uniform. Sell. Like a slave.
The leader stepped up close to the bars. “Tell me I’m not crazy here, boys. You are…from Earth, right?”
Dean looked up at Sam, then at the guy. He was clearly crazy. He said from Earth, as if they were somewhere else. Dean tried to tell him, then huffed in frustration and squatted down to scribbled a word in the sand. Kansas.
“Colonel John Sheppard, US Air Force,” the man said softly. “I’m going to do everything I can to get you two out of there.”
He pulled his team together. “Okay, Rodney, you get back to the jumper. Get us in the air. Teyla, find out what we need to do to…get both of them.”
“I fear we will need to trade for them, and I am not certain we brought enough medicines for the price.”
“You’re my negotiator, Teyla, negotiate.”
Sam had given up trying to pretend he was okay. He sat in the back of the cage watching Dean pace. There was no use trying to talk. Their voices hadn’t come back. Sooner or later Dean would wear himself out.
Sam rested his head on his knees. This went well enough beyond their usual level of strange. The air force Colonel had seemed to indicate that they were not only not in Kentucky anymore, which Sam had figured out by then, but that they weren’t even on Earth.
He didn’t know how long they had been there since the Colonel and his team had left, or what they were doing to try to free them, but the other men in the tent had already left and he and Dean were alone.
If he understood what was going on, the Colonel was negotiating to buy them…and these people thought Sam was…unfit or something. Probably because of the injuries. Or something.
He chose not to worry about it, because they really had enough to worry about. What with the whole concept of not being on Earth somehow…
Dean was snapping his fingers. Sam looked up. The man in the purple dress was back, smiling broadly. “Come, come. We are to go now.” He unlocked the cage and pressed his wrist. Sam didn’t even try to fight the compulsion to follow him. “Emir Colonel most pleased to have hafine. You will much happy.”
Dean glowered at the man, but followed him. They were taken into a huge building and into a room with a shallow pool, and barely dressed men. They were separated, and the men started to strip them. Dean fought them until the man in charge pressed against his wrist again. Dean’s face was filled with displeasure, but his hands fell loosely to his side and the men closed in, removing his clothes.
Sam was herded into the water and two of the men set about washing him. He hissed each time they touched his arm and was nearly swooning in pain before they were leading him out of the water and into a curtained off area with cots in it.
Dean was still in the water, and Sam could tell he was angry…worried and upset and ready to hit someone. The men around him were bandaging his arm, then urging him up and holding a pair of white pants up for him to put on.
Once he was dressed, he looked for Dean but he wasn’t in the water anymore. He tried to go looking, but the guy in the purple dress was back, touching his wrist and Sam could barely keep his eyes open, sinking onto the cot and falling asleep.
Title: Mirror, Mirror
Characters/Pairing: Sam, Dean, John Sheppared, Ronon, Rodney McKay, Teyla
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2575
Summary: For
apieceofcake, a "Don't Think We're in Kansas" prelude/interlude. This is not exactly the prompt, which was for a day before the SPN boys meet the SGA folks, because I kind of got carried away. It starts out before they meet, and kind of retells part of the story from the SPN boys POV.A/Ns & Warnings: Over here I did that time stamp meme.
apieceofcake asked for this. Pre-slash.Sam sat up slowly, wincing in pain. He wasn’t sure what hurt more, his head or his arm. The blood on his arm convinced him it was probably that. He shifted so that he could get a better look with the slowly dying light of his flashlight.
“Dean?”
There was a groan and Sam flashed the light in that direction. Dean pushed himself up, squinting into the light. “Sam?”
“You okay?”
Dean’s face squished up and he looked around them. “Think so. You?”
“I think I broke my arm.”
“Where are we?”
“Hell if I know.”
Last thing he remembered was the mirror. It was huge and strange…the reflection dark and nothing like the room around them. Dean had reached out to touch it, just as Sam grabbed him and tried to stop him. He wasn’t sure why, just that it didn’t seem right.
Then everything went dark, the floor tilted away and they’d tumbled. He flashed the light around them while Dean felt around in the dark for his light. “I think it’s a cave.”
“How the fuck did we end up in a cave, Sam?” Dean found his light and stood, shining the light around him. Rock and more rock.
Sam sighed and leveraged himself upright with his good arm. “Well, maybe if you didn’t have to touch every goddamn thing…”
“No, this isn’t my fault.” Dean said defensively. “It was a freaking mirror Sam.”
Sam shined his light at the wall, wincing a little as his head throbbed. The wall of the cave seemed to be a similar mirror, the scene on the other side a lot like the warehouse they’d been in. “Huh…you think we came through it?”
Dean came to stand next to him. “People don’t walk through mirrors, Sam.”
Sam tilted his head, trying to remember a vague bit of lore. “Lots of cultures have mirror lore…openings to other dimensions, stuff like that.”
“So we’re in another dimension, Sam? I don’t buy that. It’s probably some secret passage to the old man’s stash or something.” He headed away.
“Hey, where you going?”
“To have a look around. If he’s got a secret passage, maybe we’ll get lucky and find his bones so we can salt and burn ‘em and get back on the road.”
Sam nodded in the dark and set off after him, picking his way carefully around the rocks on the floor of the cave. His stomach twisted and his head throbbed. He probably had a concussion. He cradled his broken arm to his chest, blinking as he emerged into the sunlight.
The cave was situated half way up a rather large hill. All around them the ground looked as though it had been burned. No trees and the grass was all brown and black, what grass there was. “I don’t think we’re going to find any bones.” Sam said.
“There’s a road.” Dean pointed. Sam squinted into the bright light. Before Sam could say anything, Dean was setting off down the hill. Sam scurried to catch up, grabbing his brother’s shoulder as the world spun under him.
“Wait.” Sam sat hard on a rock, lifting his right hand to the knot on his head. “Just…gimme a sec.” His words sounded kind of slurred, like he’d been drinking.
Dean’s face transformed from pissy to concerned. “You hit your head?”
Sam’s fingers brushed the raised not and he swooned. That wasn’t good. “Yeah….’s okay.”
“Like hell.” Dean tilted Sam’s head to get a better look. “Shit. Let me see the arm.”
“No.” Sam cradled the arm to him, he didn’t want Dean touching it and making it hurt worse. “It’ll be fine until we can get back to town.”
“Hate to break it to you Sam, but I don’t think we’re anywhere near the town.” Dean sighed, hands on his hips. “Hey, there are people down there.” He pointed. “Maybe they can give us a lift.”
“A lift?” Sam was clearly pissed off. Not that Dean could blame him. Dean pulled on the restraints for maybe the hundredth time. “A lift Dean?”
“Shut up Sam. I’m trying to concentrate.”
He didn’t understand the language of the people who had taken one look at him and Sam and promptly thrown them to the ground and tied them up. He understood the chains that they’d exchanged the ropes for, and the tone of voice.
They were in trouble. Clearly.
Sam was hurt, and from the look in his eyes, the concussion was enough to worry about. The way Sam had yelled as they manhandled the arm had him concerned too. He just couldn’t comprehend where the hell they’d ended up. How could they end up in a cave on the side of a mountain in the middle of nowhere when they’d started out in a warehouse in Kentucky looking for a way to end the ghost of a crazy bank robber who’d died in 1920?
The people who had caught them had kept them moving all afternoon and well into the night, then settled them in a tent, chained together, the ends of those chains staked into the ground. So far, they weren’t budging.
Not that Sam was up to running anyway, even if they did get loose.
It was almost dawn, judging from the reddish light creeping over the horizon. He supposed that would mean more walking. The goofy looking guy Dean had figured to be the leader emerged from his tent, his purple robes swishing loudly as he came to them.
He rambled at Dean, turning his face, this way and that and grinning broadly. Obviously he liked what he saw. “I have a really bad feeling about this Sammy.” Dean said softly as the others began emerging from various tents and setting about breaking up camp.
It wasn’t long and they were being unchained from the stake, and pushed into position behind the guy in purple. Sam staggered a little, catching himself on Dean’s shoulder. “You okay?”
Sam didn’t answer, but Dean didn’t have time to worry, he was being tugged to follow the leader guy. “Sammy?”
The man who seemed to be in charge of keeping him and Sam in line slapped him. “Okay…no talking. I get it.”
It had to be halfway to noon when they were joined by another guy in purple, and his entourage, including about 8 men also in chains. There was some sort of negotiation, then he and Sam were added to the back of that line of prisoners and the walking resumed.
“Hafine. Panka mere no ba.” The new guy was bigger, and he caught Dean’s head, turning it to the side. He put something on Dean’s neck and it bit into him, digging it’s way into his skin.
Dean yelled and reached for it, only to have the big guy slap his hands. “Hafine. No ba,” the man repeated.
“Don’t have a clue what that means, dude.” Dean said through gritted teeth as the device finished it’s work and the pain receded.
The guy poked a finger at him, then went to Sam to repeat the process. “Hafine, no ba.”
Once he was done implanting whatever the fuck the thing was in Sam’s neck, they were off again. The whole thing made no sense whatsoever. None. It made even less sense as they rounded a large hill and set out down a road leading toward a small city. Only not any city Dean had ever seen.
He concentrated on keeping his feet moving, on watching the world around them, hoping something would start to jive. That is until they were brought to the cages. Dean balked, and the big guy pushed some device on his wrist. Despite everything, Dean’s body just walked into it, and he was pretty damn sure he didn’t tell it to. Sam had to duck his head to get in beside him. The chains were released and the cage door shut.
“What the fuck?” Dean asked under his breath.
“This is all your fault.” Sam said. His face was pale and he was clutching his injured arm.
“Let me look at it.” Dean touched his hand, but Sam yanked it away. “Dude, calm down.”
“I will not calm down. You got us into this.”
Dean put his hands on his hips and stared at his brother. “Why is it my fault?”
Sam’s face was contorted in anger and pain. “Maybe if you didn’t feel the need to touch everything, we wouldn’t be…wherever the hell it is we are.”
“I don’t—“ Dean stopped, staring past Sam, out the flap of the tent that hid the cages. A man ducked inside, squinting at them. He pressed something on his wrist and nodded, then disappeared again. Dean opened his mouth up to say something—but no sound came out.
He frowned and tried again. When nothing happened, he gestured at Sam. Sam likewise tried to say something, but they were both silenced.
Dean paced away, fuming. He was back to thinking that this made no sense. Everything was all fucked up, and way beyond their usual brand of fucked up. The flap moved again and the man returned, bringing a woman and three men with him.
“Is pretty, yes?” the man asked. Dean realized the man meant him and glared, before turning his eyes to the obvious leader of the small group. He was wearing some sort of uniform, with an American flag on the sleeve.
Dean started asking questions, even though no sound came. He tried screaming. His face was hot, his head hurt with the effort to make himself heard.
“He has sparked much talk as he came to be here. Already offers.”
The man in uniform held up both hands, but Dean was no where near ready to be placated, especially not by strangers.
“Rodney, don’t you have a pair of jeans like those?” The man caught Dean’s eyes and gestured for him to lift his shirt.
The man in purple made a twirling motion with his finger. Dean’s fury increased as he glared back at the uniformed man, then he was turning and lifting his shirt. It only infuriated him more.
“Wranglers?” the one called Rodney said quietly. He looked at the leader and back, his mouth slightly open. He squinted up at the Sam, then nodded. “Yeah. Brought them back last time I went home.”
Sam moved closer to the bars, looking at the leader intently.
“Where are they from?”
The man in purple spoke to the woman briefly and she nodded. “They came out of the place of which they do not speak.”
“What does that mean?”
“He will not explain further.” she responded.
“He is most pleasurable?” The guy looked hopeful, though Dean couldn’t figure out what he meant by pleasurable.
“They are both…pleasurable.” The guy looked uncomfortable, watching Dean and Sam, then looking to Rodney as if there were answers.
“No…he is too tall…too weak. Macunta. Macunta a par.”
“He is injured,” the woman translated.
“So?”
Dean was staring daggers at them now. He moved closer to Sam, holding the injured arm, turning it so they could see.
The man in purple spoke to the woman and bowed briefly before disappearing out the front of the tent. “They are to be separated. The injured one is unfit for more than field work, and is not expected to survive long. The other is meant for softer duty.”
Both Sam and Dean looked at her. What the fuck was that supposed to mean. Sam was fine, aside from a bump on the head and the broken arm. People don’t die from broken arms. And what the fuck did he mean about field work, or softer duty…because from where Dean was standing it was beginning to sound as though the guy in purple was trying to sell him to the guy in uniform. Sell. Like a slave.
The leader stepped up close to the bars. “Tell me I’m not crazy here, boys. You are…from Earth, right?”
Dean looked up at Sam, then at the guy. He was clearly crazy. He said from Earth, as if they were somewhere else. Dean tried to tell him, then huffed in frustration and squatted down to scribbled a word in the sand. Kansas.
“Colonel John Sheppard, US Air Force,” the man said softly. “I’m going to do everything I can to get you two out of there.”
He pulled his team together. “Okay, Rodney, you get back to the jumper. Get us in the air. Teyla, find out what we need to do to…get both of them.”
“I fear we will need to trade for them, and I am not certain we brought enough medicines for the price.”
“You’re my negotiator, Teyla, negotiate.”
Sam had given up trying to pretend he was okay. He sat in the back of the cage watching Dean pace. There was no use trying to talk. Their voices hadn’t come back. Sooner or later Dean would wear himself out.
Sam rested his head on his knees. This went well enough beyond their usual level of strange. The air force Colonel had seemed to indicate that they were not only not in Kentucky anymore, which Sam had figured out by then, but that they weren’t even on Earth.
He didn’t know how long they had been there since the Colonel and his team had left, or what they were doing to try to free them, but the other men in the tent had already left and he and Dean were alone.
If he understood what was going on, the Colonel was negotiating to buy them…and these people thought Sam was…unfit or something. Probably because of the injuries. Or something.
He chose not to worry about it, because they really had enough to worry about. What with the whole concept of not being on Earth somehow…
Dean was snapping his fingers. Sam looked up. The man in the purple dress was back, smiling broadly. “Come, come. We are to go now.” He unlocked the cage and pressed his wrist. Sam didn’t even try to fight the compulsion to follow him. “Emir Colonel most pleased to have hafine. You will much happy.”
Dean glowered at the man, but followed him. They were taken into a huge building and into a room with a shallow pool, and barely dressed men. They were separated, and the men started to strip them. Dean fought them until the man in charge pressed against his wrist again. Dean’s face was filled with displeasure, but his hands fell loosely to his side and the men closed in, removing his clothes.
Sam was herded into the water and two of the men set about washing him. He hissed each time they touched his arm and was nearly swooning in pain before they were leading him out of the water and into a curtained off area with cots in it.
Dean was still in the water, and Sam could tell he was angry…worried and upset and ready to hit someone. The men around him were bandaging his arm, then urging him up and holding a pair of white pants up for him to put on.
Once he was dressed, he looked for Dean but he wasn’t in the water anymore. He tried to go looking, but the guy in the purple dress was back, touching his wrist and Sam could barely keep his eyes open, sinking onto the cot and falling asleep.
