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phantismaFandom: Stargate Atlantis/Supernatural Crossover
Title: Don't Think We're in Kansas, Chapter 11 (Previous Chapters found Here)
Pairings/Characters: (this chapter) Dean, Ronon, John, Sam, Bobby, Agent Henriksen
Word Count: 4219 (this chapter)
Rating: R (for torture) this chapter
Summary: Sam and Dean are taken by Henricksen and John and Ronon try to find them before things get too out of hand.
A/Ns & Warnings: This is a bunny "given" to me by denyce. I don't know if she knew what she was getting into. Um. So...warnings. This is a slave fic. This is Dean slave fic...nothing like the OTHER slave!Dean fic. This is new and different. This will involve dubious on, and kinky, kinky sex. Just not in this chapter. Sorry. This also a humble birthday offering for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
qbic1. Hope your birthday is lovely! Sorry this didn't get to the point of the healing sex...maybe the next chapter.
John Sheppard wasn’t comfortable as he sat in a booth in some run down dive bar in the middle of nowhere South Dakota. He wasn’t comfortable that he had let Dean and Sam out of his sight. He wasn’t comfortable that he was uncertain of the distance between them, or how long they could go before Dean started to feel the effects.
“You okay?” Ronon asked as he slid into the booth, putting a beer in front of John.
He lifted the glass and took a drink before responding. “Not really.” When they were separated, John always felt a bit of anxiety, but this was different. Like maybe Dean was anxious too.
“Feel something?” Ronon was trying for casual, and might have hit it if not for the concern in his eyes.
“Maybe.” Whoever the old guy was, it was obvious Dean trusted him. “Maybe it’s nothing.”
Ronon’s eyes flicked over him. “Right. Nothing.”
John made a face and sipped his beer. It wasn’t nothing. He dropped the beer as pain lanced through his shoulder. Pain like he’d been shot. He grabbed at his shoulder and shook his head. “Dean.”
“Dean!” Sam screamed and reached for his brother, but Dean hit the ground just out of reach, and Bobby was pulling Sam back inside the door.
Dean groaned and rolled to his side, shaking his head at Sam. All around the house agents and local police were moving in. Bobby was pulling Sam back, into the house, away from windows. “Let me go!” Sam yanked his arm free, but the pain radiating from his shoulder and now his stomach dropped him to the ground. “Fuck!”
His brother was out there getting the shit kicked out of him. “Damn it Bobby, Dean needs me.”
“He needs you to not lose your head.” Bobby pushed him into the crowded library where there were no windows through which they could get shot.
Sam’s stomach twisted. Dean was hurt and it echoed through Sam. He folded his arms over his stomach.
“Come on out Sam. This can only end ugly if you don’t. I’m sure you don’t want Mr. Singer to get hurt too.” Henriksen’s voice came through the house.
Sam shook his head. John was going to freak. He turned to look at Bobby. “I can’t explain everything Bobby…but I don’t think we can stall them long enough…so I need you to do me a favor.”
“I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“Dean and I….we’re…involved in something and it involves the two men we showed up with. They’ll be coming back. With any luck before this goes too far…but…” But, they’d already shot Dean, and all he’d done was step out on the porch to talk. “I have to go with Dean. Don’t ask why. I just do. John will be coming, he’ll know Dean’s hurt. He’s…” Dean licked his lips. “He’s a Lt. Colonel in the Air Force. Tell him everything.”
“Sam?”
“Just do it, Bobby. Tell him everything. He’s going to have to know it all “
“If you go out there you’re going to end up in prison.”
“Maybe.” Sam backed up to the door. “If I don’t go out there, they’re going to come in.”
Bobby shook his head. Sam blew out. “Sorry.” He landed the blow hard to Bobby’s jaw, sending him sprawling backward. Better unconscious than dead. Sam inched out of the library and back toward the kitchen. “Henriksen, I’m coming out.” He kicked the door open and heard a dozen guns cocking. “I’m unarmed, and I’m coming out.”
Cautiously, Sam stepped out onto the porch, his eyes darting to the blood stain where Dean had fallen, before lifting to the array of guns leveled at him. “I’m unarmed,” he repeated, holding his arms out to his sides.
“Freeze right where you are. If you even twitch, I will put you down like I did your brother.”
Sam exhaled and fought down the urge to fight as men swarmed toward him. He was knocked to his knees and then face first into the dirt while hands searched him for hidden weapons and cuffed his hands behind his back. None of it was gentle, and more than one booted foot found its way into his rib cage before the swarm pulled back.
Sam coughed on the dust and ache in his side as they lifted him back to his knees and Henriksen emerged from behind a line of cars, holstering his gun and wiping at his mouth. Sam strained his neck, trying to see where they had taken Dean.
Henriksen rewarded him by punching him hard across the jaw. “Welcome to my world, Sam. Be the smart boy we both know you are.”
“Where’s my brother?” Sam asked, looking up at Henriksen.
The agent leaned close. “If I were you, I’d be worrying about myself right now. Dean doesn’t stand a chance…you? Maybe you play your cards right, you get off light.”
“You don’t understand—“
Henriksen grabbed his face, squeezing his cheeks in. “I understand plenty. I understand that you Winchesters are monsters and I aim to prove it.” He nodded to one of the men holding Sam and something heavy thudded into the back of Sam’s head. The world wobbled and fell into dark, taking Sam with it.
John swerved off the road and grabbed at his head, gasping. “Fuck.” Something was very obviously not right. He breathed through the pain, then got out of the car, opening the trunk. He picked out a gun and checked the load before getting back into the car.
Ronon raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything, just reached under the seat for his own gun.
“Let’s not get carried away.” John said.
“You said it felt like Dean was shot.” Ronon said.
“We don’t know what’s going on.” John pulled back on the road. They weren’t far now. He knew that Dean had been anxious, that he was trying to control a situation that felt very out of control. He knew Dean had been shot and that right at that moment he couldn’t feel Dean at all.
The air was dusty as they pulled into the property where they had left Dean and Sam, as if a bunch of cars had recently driven over the packed dirt drive. John was out of the car as soon as he had it in park. “Dean!” He moved toward the house, pounding on the door before his eyes spotted the blood on the porch. He squatted next to it, dipped a finger in it.
It wasn’t cold yet. Whatever had gone down, it had happened fast.
The door opened and a gun preceded the old man. John held his hands up and stood slowly. “Bobby Singer, right?’
The man was blinking, rubbing at his jaw with his free hand. “Depends on who’s asking.”
John nodded. “Lt. Colonel John Sheppard, US Air Force. I was here earlier with Sam and Dean.”
“You’re too late.”
John felt his heart sink. That didn’t sound good. Bobby lowered the gun and pushed the door open further. “Get on in here. Sam told me to tell you everything.”
John gestured for Ronon to join him and followed Bobby inside. “Everything?”
Bobby nodded, waving at the kitchen table with his gun. “Most of it’s there.” He went to the refrigerator and pulled out an ice tray.
John lifted the nearest file, his eyes skimming over names and notations he didn’t fully understand. “Demons?” He raised an eyebrow at Ronon who held another file.
“FBI.” Ronon countered, turning the file to show John a picture.
“What exactly happened here?” John asked.
“Near as I can figure it, Henriksen was watching me. As soon as you left, he moved in. Shot Dean, Sam gave himself up. Said something about needing to be with Dean.”
John nodded absently. They’d never really put that connection to the test, but assumed that it would work the same way as the thing between Dean and John. If they were separated for too long or over too much distance, it could lead to passing out…and probably worse. Carson seemed too think that if the connection was withheld long enough, it would kill Dean.
“What does this Henriksen want, exactly?”
Bobby shrugged, holding a towel filled with ice to his jaw. It was starting to bruise. He took the file from Ronon and put it down on the table flipping pages. “According to my sources, this guy had been tracking their daddy for near a year ‘for he died. Then there was the shape-shifter thing in St. Louis, and Dean popped up on his radar. Somehow he’s managed to put together a pretty skewed view of who the boys are and what they do.”
John huffed. That wasn’t really a conversation he wanted to have just now. “So he knows about the demons and the ghosts and…?”
Bobby snorted. “He thinks Dean’s psychotic. Thinks his Daddy made him that way.”
“Great. Any idea where they were taking them?”
“He had a bunch of locals with him, so probably the jail in town while they work out transportation to wherever it is they’re going to end up.”
John chewed on his lip for a minute, then pulled out his cell phone. It was time to call in reinforcements.
Dean groaned and tried to reach for his throbbing shoulder, only to find he couldn’t move his hands. He opened his eyes, taking in the overly tight cuffs that not only bound his hands together but chained him to a tiny, hard cot in a tiny room built from concrete and iron.
“Dean?”
He lifted his head. “Sam?” He couldn’t see his brother, but he felt the surge of relief from him.
“You okay?”
Dean put his head back down. “I’ve been shot. I’m in jail. I’m not okay.”
“You were out a long time.” Sam’s voice was filled with worry, just like the waves of emotion rolling off of him.
“I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”
“Oh, I don’t think you have.”
Dean lifted his head again as Henriksen stopped outside his cell. “No offense, dude, but you don’t scare me.”
“No? I supposed I can fix that.” As he spoke, Henriksen’s voice deepened, changed and when he blinked, Dean saw his eyes flicker and fill with yellow. “Scared of me now?”
“Dean?” Sam’s voice raised in pitch.
Henriksen’s smile was wicked as he opened the cell and moved to where Dean was cuffed. Dean licked his lips and pulled away. “It’s okay Sammy, I’m going to take good care of Dean.”
He squatted down beside Dean, looking over the bruise on his face and the blood still oozing from his shoulder. He made a sympathetic sound. “That looks nasty.” He pressed a thumb into the wound and Dean fought screaming as long as he could, but that wasn’t’ long.
“Dean!” Sam was rattling furniture in the cell across the hall. “You son of a bitch!”
Henriksen’s head cocked to the side. “Now, now…no need to bring our mothers into this. Though your mother was a piece of work. My mother? She wasn’t nearly as much fun to kill as yours.”
Dean hissed and kicked, connecting with Henriksen’s arm before his hand grabbed Dean around the neck. “That wasn’t nice, Dean. I am the law, you know. You just assaulted a federal agent.”
“Fuck…you.” Dean squeezed out, forcing air past the constriction of his hand.
“We’ll get to that, don’t worry. I want to enjoy this. I’ve been waiting a long time.”
He let go and stood.
Dean panted and tried to control the waves of panic, then realized that they weren’t his, they were Sam’s…and there was an echo of something from John as well. That was good. He tried to reach for it, to send something actively across the link. He’d never really tried that before. Dean closed his eyes and concentrated. John would come for them.
That was just the kind of guy he was.
“With all due respect, sir, I can’t believe I’m hearing this.” John said, pacing up and down the sidewalk in front of the local jail. “These two men are a part of my team.”
John listened as the general read part of Dean’s file to him. “I understand, but that’s only part of the story. Sir—“
Bobby was coming out of a building down the road and coming toward them. “Obviously, sir, there is something wrong here. The entire local police force is missing.” John said, glancing up as Ronon crossed his arms. “No sir.”
Bobby stopped and John bit off the response he really wanted to give Landry. “Fine, I look forward to it.”
He hung up the phone. “We’re on our own. For the moment. The General doesn’t want to step on FBI toes. He says he has to use the proper channels.” His stomach was queasy, and his vision swam. They didn’t have time for channels.
Ronon reached out to steady him as he weaved on his feet. John squeezed his eyes shut and held on, recognizing Dean and reaching out for him. He got the impression of a jail cell, a dark skinned man with yellow eyes, pain, fear. He gasped.
“Dean?” Ronon asked as John straightened up.
“Yeah…they’re in some sort of jail. Not here.”
“What was that?” Bobby asked, clearly skeptical.
John licked his lips. “Dean and I…we’re…sort of connected.”
Bobby looked confused by that. “I thought Sam was the psychic one.”
“It must run in the family.” John said dryly. “Know anywhere around here that would have a jail that wasn’t being used? It looked old.”
“How old?” Bobby asked, swiping his baseball hat off his head to scratch.
“Like old west old.” John responded.
Bobby nodded. “Yeah, I know a place. Abandoned mining town maybe a half hour away.”
Bobby started for the car, but John stopped him with a hand on his arm. “One more thing.” He wiped his mouth, sure he wasn’t going to like the answer. “Henriksen, he doesn’t wear freaky contact lenses or something, does he?”
Bobby looked at him like he had snakes growing out of his face. “No, why?”
“Well, assuming that was him who was hurting Dean? His eyes were all yellow.”
“Shit. We need to swing by my place on the way. Pick up a few things. The boys don’t have anything in that car to deal with that son of a bitch.”
They were alone at the moment. Sam still couldn’t see Dean, but he could hear his breathing. It was wet and sticky, but it was still moving in and out, and for the time being Sam was willing to let that be a victory.
His brother’s body was broadcasting his pain, and Sam could feel every bit of it…amplified by the technology that bound them together over and above the blood they shared and the way Sam had just always felt Dean’s every breath.
“Dean?”
Dean coughed. “Yeah, Sam.”
He wanted to say “don’t leave me” or “I’m sorry” or something, but Dean knew. The demon was using Dean. He wanted something from Sam and he was going to torture Dean until he got it.
The problem was, Sam wasn’t sure what it was he wanted.
“Just hold on. John will come.”
“John can’t handle this.” Dean said softly.
Sam nodded, blinking against tears. This had been what their father had been afraid of…what their father had warned Dean about. “You can’t give in Sam.” Dean said.
“I know.” But they both knew he would. To save Dean, Sam would. Even if that meant he became what his father most feared he would.
“Stop fighting it, Sammy.” Henriksen slipped out of the shadows. The cell door opened and he came to squat beside the cot where Sam was chained. “Just join me, and I’ll give you Dean. Healed up and ready to serve. No more kneeling at his feet…he’ll kneel at yours…”
Sam closed his eyes as the images invaded him and his body responded. “No.” He shook his head.
“I know the twisted little desires in your heart, Sam. I put them there. The way you want him, your own brother.”
“What is it you want from me?” Sam asked softly.
“I want you to realize the power you were born to. I want you to join me, fight with me…”
“I’d rather die.” Sam whispered.
“Be careful what you wish for.”
Sam’s body seized as invisible hands squeezed his stomach, his heart, his throat. He fought against it, against the creeping blackness, until he felt himself disconnect, float. The pressure vanished and he lay panting on the cot.
Henriksen’s face was close, his lips against the skin of Sam’s face. “You like it to hurt, don’t you Sammy? I can show you the most exquisite pain.”
Sam couldn’t stop the screams as those invisible hands returned, squeezing and releasing and squeezing again.
John doubled over, holding his stomach and retching into the grass. “Fuck,” he gasped as he reached for the Impala to pull himself up. He was almost certain it was Sam getting tortured now, though he’d never actually felt Sam that clearly before. Maybe it was a product of the intensity of the pain…or something to do with Sam’s…differences.
They were looking at a small mining town. Maybe five buildings total. There appeared to be guards in the uniforms of local cops. Bobby lowered the binoculars. “They’re possessed. This ain’t gonna be easy.”
“Is anything ever easy?” John reached for the binoculars. They needed to get closer. He pointed at the only cover between them and the town, a stand of trees that would let them get up behind the nearest building.
“They’re in the jail. Middle on the left.” As he said it, someone emerged from the building and two more came behind him, dragging another. “Sam.” John breathed, watching the two cops drag Sam into the street.
He was dropped to his knees in the middle of the dirt street. “What the hell?” He watched as a woman emerged from another building and moved toward Sam. She seemed to talk to him, then back away, her hands on her head. Sam screamed, and it echoed in the wind.
Before John could think better of it, he had a gun out, tracking the thing that had appeared in front of Sam. Bobby’s hand closed on his and pulled, pointing the gun at the woman instead. John pulled the trigger and she went down, the ghost-like girl in front of Sam disappearing.
Ronon was pushing him back toward the back of the building as the cops ran toward them and Sam was staggering to his feet. Bobby thrust a different gun into his hands. “Blessed rounds. Go get Sam, let me deal with Henriksen.”
Sam felt it when Eva died. Felt the claws of the demon she’d been controlling leave his chest. Felt the yellow-eyed Demon’s anger at the interruption. Felt the ease with which he could do what she’d done.
He staggered to his feet, turning for Henriksen.
“You feel it now, don’t you Sammy?” He stepped down into the street. “Take it. Take it and I’ll give you everything you ever wanted.”
There were more gunshots. The demon possessed cops were dying. John and Ronon were circling around. Bobby was setting a trap.
Henriksen smiled sickly at him. He raised an arm and Bobby came flying from behind one of the buildings. He fell to the ground at Sam’s feet. “Kill him Sam. Kill him and you can have Dean…hell, you can have them all…all yours, all of them…”
Sam felt it surging through him. He looked down at Bobby. It wouldn’t be hard. It would be so easy.
Sam. Dean. Sam’s eyes flicked to the jail. It came at him, love, need, desperate affection…brother and lover and everything. The door opened. Dean leaned against Ronon, a gun in his hand. A gun leveled at Sam.
Henriksen laughed in the middle of the street. “You going to kill your baby brother Dean? Is that what your Daddy wanted?”
Dean ignored Henriksen, his eyes on Sam. “Sammy.”
Sam closed his eyes. If he gave in it would all be over…he could take Dean and make him safe. No more hunting, no more aliens, no more government people trying to kill them…or own them.
He felt Dean inside him. He was begging. “Don’t make me do it Sam.”
Sam reached down and pulled Bobby up. Bobby’s hand clasped his, pressing something cold and metal into his hand. Sam swallowed. He could feel the power in it…like ice leeching into his skin. It wouldn’t kill the Yellow eyed son of a bitch, but it would make the body he was inhabiting less hospitable.
Two gunshots rang out and Henriksen’s body convulsed, the demon laughing as he turned to face John who still had the gun trained on him.
“Really, John? Did you think that puny little pea shooter could put me down?”
Sam met Bobby’s eyes, nodding minutely. As if Sam had done something to him, Bobby fell to the ground. Sam felt Dean’s anguish, the muzzle of his gun tracking as Sam bolted toward Henriksen. He got one hand on his jacket before the demon was lifting him off the ground.
The gun fired and Sam felt the bullet eat the distance, felt Dean’s screamed “Sam!” in his gut…and when Henriksen’s mouth opened for the demon’s laughter, Sam opened his hand, letting the amulet fall into his mouth.
He fell to the ground, the bullet ripping into his side and slamming into Henriksen as he stumbled backward, holding his throat. It was small enough to swallow, but the Demon was trying to force it out, and the battle was robbing the body of air.
Finally, Henriksen swallowed and fell to the ground, his mouth opening as the demon spewed out of him with a roar.
Sam lay still on the ground, holding his bleeding side and panting. His head spun and he was close to passing out. There was a hand on his face, tender. He forced his eyes open. “Hey, stay with me.” John said, pressing a hand against the wound.
“Dean…” Sam tried to look, but his head wouldn’t turn.
“Easy, Ronon’s got him. Lie still.” John lifted Sam’s head and cradled it against his leg.
Sam shook his head against John, but it only made the dark press in closer. “Dean!”
Suddenly Dean was there beside him, Ronon lowering him to the ground while John flicked open his phone.
“Sam. Sammy.” Dean’s hands were sticky with blood as they grabbed onto Sam’s.
“I’m okay…I’m okay.” He closed his eyes and laid back, his head on John’s knee. He was going to pass out…but he was okay.
The small, deserted town was crawling with military personnel. Sam and Dean and the FBI agent were all strapped down to gurney’s ready to be airlifted to a secure hospital. John stood beside them, standing guard.
Ronon watched as SGC troops finished clearing the town of the dead. As Landry headed toward John, Ronon moved too, figuring he should be close. “So now I have dead civilians, dead police, and a wounded FBI agent.” Landry crossed his arms.
“My men were being tortured, Sir.” John said, his eyes flashing angrily. “By said FBI agent who just happened to be possessed.”
“By a demon.” Landry was clearly skeptical.
“By something. Does it matter what we call it?” John asked. “I took these guys under my protection. I couldn’t wait for your channels, Sir.”
“Choppers here. We’ll talk about this later.” Landry said, stepping back as the chopper landed.
Sam and Dean were going to be fine. A few days in the hospital, a trip back to Stargate Command to be debriefed, and a trip back to Atlantis would round out their visit home. And until they were safely back on Atlantis either John or Ronon would keep them tucked in tight.
Right now, that duty fell to Ronon.
John was doing his best at being intimidating.
Henriksen thanked the nurse who had changed his bandage and looked to John.
“I take it that this is where you tell me how lucky I am you didn’t kill me?”
John shook his head. “No, this is the part where I tell you to forget you ever heard the names Sam and Dean Winchester.”
Henriksen’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t do that.”
“I think you’ll find that you can. In fact, I think what you’ll find is that they no longer exist…not in any official capacity anyway.”
Henriksen started at him for a minute then nodded. “Right. You think because you’re military you can yank my chain.”
“I didn’t yank it.” John uncrossed his arms and moved a few steps closer. “I don’t know why you’re so hot to take them down. Now you know the demon stuff is true, and they’re doing a job for Uncle Sam. That’s all you need.”
“No sir, it’s not.” Henriksen countered. “Someone has to pay for the things they’ve done.”
John made a face. “Credit card fraud and grave desecration?”
“No. Murder.”
John sighed and shook his head.
“I’m not talking about those girls in St. Louis. I’m talking about my brother.”
Title: Don't Think We're in Kansas, Chapter 11 (Previous Chapters found Here)
Pairings/Characters: (this chapter) Dean, Ronon, John, Sam, Bobby, Agent Henriksen
Word Count: 4219 (this chapter)
Rating: R (for torture) this chapter
Summary: Sam and Dean are taken by Henricksen and John and Ronon try to find them before things get too out of hand.
A/Ns & Warnings: This is a bunny "given" to me by denyce. I don't know if she knew what she was getting into. Um. So...warnings. This is a slave fic. This is Dean slave fic...nothing like the OTHER slave!Dean fic. This is new and different. This will involve dubious on, and kinky, kinky sex. Just not in this chapter. Sorry. This also a humble birthday offering for
qbic1. Hope your birthday is lovely! Sorry this didn't get to the point of the healing sex...maybe the next chapter.John Sheppard wasn’t comfortable as he sat in a booth in some run down dive bar in the middle of nowhere South Dakota. He wasn’t comfortable that he had let Dean and Sam out of his sight. He wasn’t comfortable that he was uncertain of the distance between them, or how long they could go before Dean started to feel the effects.
“You okay?” Ronon asked as he slid into the booth, putting a beer in front of John.
He lifted the glass and took a drink before responding. “Not really.” When they were separated, John always felt a bit of anxiety, but this was different. Like maybe Dean was anxious too.
“Feel something?” Ronon was trying for casual, and might have hit it if not for the concern in his eyes.
“Maybe.” Whoever the old guy was, it was obvious Dean trusted him. “Maybe it’s nothing.”
Ronon’s eyes flicked over him. “Right. Nothing.”
John made a face and sipped his beer. It wasn’t nothing. He dropped the beer as pain lanced through his shoulder. Pain like he’d been shot. He grabbed at his shoulder and shook his head. “Dean.”
“Dean!” Sam screamed and reached for his brother, but Dean hit the ground just out of reach, and Bobby was pulling Sam back inside the door.
Dean groaned and rolled to his side, shaking his head at Sam. All around the house agents and local police were moving in. Bobby was pulling Sam back, into the house, away from windows. “Let me go!” Sam yanked his arm free, but the pain radiating from his shoulder and now his stomach dropped him to the ground. “Fuck!”
His brother was out there getting the shit kicked out of him. “Damn it Bobby, Dean needs me.”
“He needs you to not lose your head.” Bobby pushed him into the crowded library where there were no windows through which they could get shot.
Sam’s stomach twisted. Dean was hurt and it echoed through Sam. He folded his arms over his stomach.
“Come on out Sam. This can only end ugly if you don’t. I’m sure you don’t want Mr. Singer to get hurt too.” Henriksen’s voice came through the house.
Sam shook his head. John was going to freak. He turned to look at Bobby. “I can’t explain everything Bobby…but I don’t think we can stall them long enough…so I need you to do me a favor.”
“I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“Dean and I….we’re…involved in something and it involves the two men we showed up with. They’ll be coming back. With any luck before this goes too far…but…” But, they’d already shot Dean, and all he’d done was step out on the porch to talk. “I have to go with Dean. Don’t ask why. I just do. John will be coming, he’ll know Dean’s hurt. He’s…” Dean licked his lips. “He’s a Lt. Colonel in the Air Force. Tell him everything.”
“Sam?”
“Just do it, Bobby. Tell him everything. He’s going to have to know it all “
“If you go out there you’re going to end up in prison.”
“Maybe.” Sam backed up to the door. “If I don’t go out there, they’re going to come in.”
Bobby shook his head. Sam blew out. “Sorry.” He landed the blow hard to Bobby’s jaw, sending him sprawling backward. Better unconscious than dead. Sam inched out of the library and back toward the kitchen. “Henriksen, I’m coming out.” He kicked the door open and heard a dozen guns cocking. “I’m unarmed, and I’m coming out.”
Cautiously, Sam stepped out onto the porch, his eyes darting to the blood stain where Dean had fallen, before lifting to the array of guns leveled at him. “I’m unarmed,” he repeated, holding his arms out to his sides.
“Freeze right where you are. If you even twitch, I will put you down like I did your brother.”
Sam exhaled and fought down the urge to fight as men swarmed toward him. He was knocked to his knees and then face first into the dirt while hands searched him for hidden weapons and cuffed his hands behind his back. None of it was gentle, and more than one booted foot found its way into his rib cage before the swarm pulled back.
Sam coughed on the dust and ache in his side as they lifted him back to his knees and Henriksen emerged from behind a line of cars, holstering his gun and wiping at his mouth. Sam strained his neck, trying to see where they had taken Dean.
Henriksen rewarded him by punching him hard across the jaw. “Welcome to my world, Sam. Be the smart boy we both know you are.”
“Where’s my brother?” Sam asked, looking up at Henriksen.
The agent leaned close. “If I were you, I’d be worrying about myself right now. Dean doesn’t stand a chance…you? Maybe you play your cards right, you get off light.”
“You don’t understand—“
Henriksen grabbed his face, squeezing his cheeks in. “I understand plenty. I understand that you Winchesters are monsters and I aim to prove it.” He nodded to one of the men holding Sam and something heavy thudded into the back of Sam’s head. The world wobbled and fell into dark, taking Sam with it.
John swerved off the road and grabbed at his head, gasping. “Fuck.” Something was very obviously not right. He breathed through the pain, then got out of the car, opening the trunk. He picked out a gun and checked the load before getting back into the car.
Ronon raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything, just reached under the seat for his own gun.
“Let’s not get carried away.” John said.
“You said it felt like Dean was shot.” Ronon said.
“We don’t know what’s going on.” John pulled back on the road. They weren’t far now. He knew that Dean had been anxious, that he was trying to control a situation that felt very out of control. He knew Dean had been shot and that right at that moment he couldn’t feel Dean at all.
The air was dusty as they pulled into the property where they had left Dean and Sam, as if a bunch of cars had recently driven over the packed dirt drive. John was out of the car as soon as he had it in park. “Dean!” He moved toward the house, pounding on the door before his eyes spotted the blood on the porch. He squatted next to it, dipped a finger in it.
It wasn’t cold yet. Whatever had gone down, it had happened fast.
The door opened and a gun preceded the old man. John held his hands up and stood slowly. “Bobby Singer, right?’
The man was blinking, rubbing at his jaw with his free hand. “Depends on who’s asking.”
John nodded. “Lt. Colonel John Sheppard, US Air Force. I was here earlier with Sam and Dean.”
“You’re too late.”
John felt his heart sink. That didn’t sound good. Bobby lowered the gun and pushed the door open further. “Get on in here. Sam told me to tell you everything.”
John gestured for Ronon to join him and followed Bobby inside. “Everything?”
Bobby nodded, waving at the kitchen table with his gun. “Most of it’s there.” He went to the refrigerator and pulled out an ice tray.
John lifted the nearest file, his eyes skimming over names and notations he didn’t fully understand. “Demons?” He raised an eyebrow at Ronon who held another file.
“FBI.” Ronon countered, turning the file to show John a picture.
“What exactly happened here?” John asked.
“Near as I can figure it, Henriksen was watching me. As soon as you left, he moved in. Shot Dean, Sam gave himself up. Said something about needing to be with Dean.”
John nodded absently. They’d never really put that connection to the test, but assumed that it would work the same way as the thing between Dean and John. If they were separated for too long or over too much distance, it could lead to passing out…and probably worse. Carson seemed too think that if the connection was withheld long enough, it would kill Dean.
“What does this Henriksen want, exactly?”
Bobby shrugged, holding a towel filled with ice to his jaw. It was starting to bruise. He took the file from Ronon and put it down on the table flipping pages. “According to my sources, this guy had been tracking their daddy for near a year ‘for he died. Then there was the shape-shifter thing in St. Louis, and Dean popped up on his radar. Somehow he’s managed to put together a pretty skewed view of who the boys are and what they do.”
John huffed. That wasn’t really a conversation he wanted to have just now. “So he knows about the demons and the ghosts and…?”
Bobby snorted. “He thinks Dean’s psychotic. Thinks his Daddy made him that way.”
“Great. Any idea where they were taking them?”
“He had a bunch of locals with him, so probably the jail in town while they work out transportation to wherever it is they’re going to end up.”
John chewed on his lip for a minute, then pulled out his cell phone. It was time to call in reinforcements.
Dean groaned and tried to reach for his throbbing shoulder, only to find he couldn’t move his hands. He opened his eyes, taking in the overly tight cuffs that not only bound his hands together but chained him to a tiny, hard cot in a tiny room built from concrete and iron.
“Dean?”
He lifted his head. “Sam?” He couldn’t see his brother, but he felt the surge of relief from him.
“You okay?”
Dean put his head back down. “I’ve been shot. I’m in jail. I’m not okay.”
“You were out a long time.” Sam’s voice was filled with worry, just like the waves of emotion rolling off of him.
“I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”
“Oh, I don’t think you have.”
Dean lifted his head again as Henriksen stopped outside his cell. “No offense, dude, but you don’t scare me.”
“No? I supposed I can fix that.” As he spoke, Henriksen’s voice deepened, changed and when he blinked, Dean saw his eyes flicker and fill with yellow. “Scared of me now?”
“Dean?” Sam’s voice raised in pitch.
Henriksen’s smile was wicked as he opened the cell and moved to where Dean was cuffed. Dean licked his lips and pulled away. “It’s okay Sammy, I’m going to take good care of Dean.”
He squatted down beside Dean, looking over the bruise on his face and the blood still oozing from his shoulder. He made a sympathetic sound. “That looks nasty.” He pressed a thumb into the wound and Dean fought screaming as long as he could, but that wasn’t’ long.
“Dean!” Sam was rattling furniture in the cell across the hall. “You son of a bitch!”
Henriksen’s head cocked to the side. “Now, now…no need to bring our mothers into this. Though your mother was a piece of work. My mother? She wasn’t nearly as much fun to kill as yours.”
Dean hissed and kicked, connecting with Henriksen’s arm before his hand grabbed Dean around the neck. “That wasn’t nice, Dean. I am the law, you know. You just assaulted a federal agent.”
“Fuck…you.” Dean squeezed out, forcing air past the constriction of his hand.
“We’ll get to that, don’t worry. I want to enjoy this. I’ve been waiting a long time.”
He let go and stood.
Dean panted and tried to control the waves of panic, then realized that they weren’t his, they were Sam’s…and there was an echo of something from John as well. That was good. He tried to reach for it, to send something actively across the link. He’d never really tried that before. Dean closed his eyes and concentrated. John would come for them.
That was just the kind of guy he was.
“With all due respect, sir, I can’t believe I’m hearing this.” John said, pacing up and down the sidewalk in front of the local jail. “These two men are a part of my team.”
John listened as the general read part of Dean’s file to him. “I understand, but that’s only part of the story. Sir—“
Bobby was coming out of a building down the road and coming toward them. “Obviously, sir, there is something wrong here. The entire local police force is missing.” John said, glancing up as Ronon crossed his arms. “No sir.”
Bobby stopped and John bit off the response he really wanted to give Landry. “Fine, I look forward to it.”
He hung up the phone. “We’re on our own. For the moment. The General doesn’t want to step on FBI toes. He says he has to use the proper channels.” His stomach was queasy, and his vision swam. They didn’t have time for channels.
Ronon reached out to steady him as he weaved on his feet. John squeezed his eyes shut and held on, recognizing Dean and reaching out for him. He got the impression of a jail cell, a dark skinned man with yellow eyes, pain, fear. He gasped.
“Dean?” Ronon asked as John straightened up.
“Yeah…they’re in some sort of jail. Not here.”
“What was that?” Bobby asked, clearly skeptical.
John licked his lips. “Dean and I…we’re…sort of connected.”
Bobby looked confused by that. “I thought Sam was the psychic one.”
“It must run in the family.” John said dryly. “Know anywhere around here that would have a jail that wasn’t being used? It looked old.”
“How old?” Bobby asked, swiping his baseball hat off his head to scratch.
“Like old west old.” John responded.
Bobby nodded. “Yeah, I know a place. Abandoned mining town maybe a half hour away.”
Bobby started for the car, but John stopped him with a hand on his arm. “One more thing.” He wiped his mouth, sure he wasn’t going to like the answer. “Henriksen, he doesn’t wear freaky contact lenses or something, does he?”
Bobby looked at him like he had snakes growing out of his face. “No, why?”
“Well, assuming that was him who was hurting Dean? His eyes were all yellow.”
“Shit. We need to swing by my place on the way. Pick up a few things. The boys don’t have anything in that car to deal with that son of a bitch.”
They were alone at the moment. Sam still couldn’t see Dean, but he could hear his breathing. It was wet and sticky, but it was still moving in and out, and for the time being Sam was willing to let that be a victory.
His brother’s body was broadcasting his pain, and Sam could feel every bit of it…amplified by the technology that bound them together over and above the blood they shared and the way Sam had just always felt Dean’s every breath.
“Dean?”
Dean coughed. “Yeah, Sam.”
He wanted to say “don’t leave me” or “I’m sorry” or something, but Dean knew. The demon was using Dean. He wanted something from Sam and he was going to torture Dean until he got it.
The problem was, Sam wasn’t sure what it was he wanted.
“Just hold on. John will come.”
“John can’t handle this.” Dean said softly.
Sam nodded, blinking against tears. This had been what their father had been afraid of…what their father had warned Dean about. “You can’t give in Sam.” Dean said.
“I know.” But they both knew he would. To save Dean, Sam would. Even if that meant he became what his father most feared he would.
“Stop fighting it, Sammy.” Henriksen slipped out of the shadows. The cell door opened and he came to squat beside the cot where Sam was chained. “Just join me, and I’ll give you Dean. Healed up and ready to serve. No more kneeling at his feet…he’ll kneel at yours…”
Sam closed his eyes as the images invaded him and his body responded. “No.” He shook his head.
“I know the twisted little desires in your heart, Sam. I put them there. The way you want him, your own brother.”
“What is it you want from me?” Sam asked softly.
“I want you to realize the power you were born to. I want you to join me, fight with me…”
“I’d rather die.” Sam whispered.
“Be careful what you wish for.”
Sam’s body seized as invisible hands squeezed his stomach, his heart, his throat. He fought against it, against the creeping blackness, until he felt himself disconnect, float. The pressure vanished and he lay panting on the cot.
Henriksen’s face was close, his lips against the skin of Sam’s face. “You like it to hurt, don’t you Sammy? I can show you the most exquisite pain.”
Sam couldn’t stop the screams as those invisible hands returned, squeezing and releasing and squeezing again.
John doubled over, holding his stomach and retching into the grass. “Fuck,” he gasped as he reached for the Impala to pull himself up. He was almost certain it was Sam getting tortured now, though he’d never actually felt Sam that clearly before. Maybe it was a product of the intensity of the pain…or something to do with Sam’s…differences.
They were looking at a small mining town. Maybe five buildings total. There appeared to be guards in the uniforms of local cops. Bobby lowered the binoculars. “They’re possessed. This ain’t gonna be easy.”
“Is anything ever easy?” John reached for the binoculars. They needed to get closer. He pointed at the only cover between them and the town, a stand of trees that would let them get up behind the nearest building.
“They’re in the jail. Middle on the left.” As he said it, someone emerged from the building and two more came behind him, dragging another. “Sam.” John breathed, watching the two cops drag Sam into the street.
He was dropped to his knees in the middle of the dirt street. “What the hell?” He watched as a woman emerged from another building and moved toward Sam. She seemed to talk to him, then back away, her hands on her head. Sam screamed, and it echoed in the wind.
Before John could think better of it, he had a gun out, tracking the thing that had appeared in front of Sam. Bobby’s hand closed on his and pulled, pointing the gun at the woman instead. John pulled the trigger and she went down, the ghost-like girl in front of Sam disappearing.
Ronon was pushing him back toward the back of the building as the cops ran toward them and Sam was staggering to his feet. Bobby thrust a different gun into his hands. “Blessed rounds. Go get Sam, let me deal with Henriksen.”
Sam felt it when Eva died. Felt the claws of the demon she’d been controlling leave his chest. Felt the yellow-eyed Demon’s anger at the interruption. Felt the ease with which he could do what she’d done.
He staggered to his feet, turning for Henriksen.
“You feel it now, don’t you Sammy?” He stepped down into the street. “Take it. Take it and I’ll give you everything you ever wanted.”
There were more gunshots. The demon possessed cops were dying. John and Ronon were circling around. Bobby was setting a trap.
Henriksen smiled sickly at him. He raised an arm and Bobby came flying from behind one of the buildings. He fell to the ground at Sam’s feet. “Kill him Sam. Kill him and you can have Dean…hell, you can have them all…all yours, all of them…”
Sam felt it surging through him. He looked down at Bobby. It wouldn’t be hard. It would be so easy.
Sam. Dean. Sam’s eyes flicked to the jail. It came at him, love, need, desperate affection…brother and lover and everything. The door opened. Dean leaned against Ronon, a gun in his hand. A gun leveled at Sam.
Henriksen laughed in the middle of the street. “You going to kill your baby brother Dean? Is that what your Daddy wanted?”
Dean ignored Henriksen, his eyes on Sam. “Sammy.”
Sam closed his eyes. If he gave in it would all be over…he could take Dean and make him safe. No more hunting, no more aliens, no more government people trying to kill them…or own them.
He felt Dean inside him. He was begging. “Don’t make me do it Sam.”
Sam reached down and pulled Bobby up. Bobby’s hand clasped his, pressing something cold and metal into his hand. Sam swallowed. He could feel the power in it…like ice leeching into his skin. It wouldn’t kill the Yellow eyed son of a bitch, but it would make the body he was inhabiting less hospitable.
Two gunshots rang out and Henriksen’s body convulsed, the demon laughing as he turned to face John who still had the gun trained on him.
“Really, John? Did you think that puny little pea shooter could put me down?”
Sam met Bobby’s eyes, nodding minutely. As if Sam had done something to him, Bobby fell to the ground. Sam felt Dean’s anguish, the muzzle of his gun tracking as Sam bolted toward Henriksen. He got one hand on his jacket before the demon was lifting him off the ground.
The gun fired and Sam felt the bullet eat the distance, felt Dean’s screamed “Sam!” in his gut…and when Henriksen’s mouth opened for the demon’s laughter, Sam opened his hand, letting the amulet fall into his mouth.
He fell to the ground, the bullet ripping into his side and slamming into Henriksen as he stumbled backward, holding his throat. It was small enough to swallow, but the Demon was trying to force it out, and the battle was robbing the body of air.
Finally, Henriksen swallowed and fell to the ground, his mouth opening as the demon spewed out of him with a roar.
Sam lay still on the ground, holding his bleeding side and panting. His head spun and he was close to passing out. There was a hand on his face, tender. He forced his eyes open. “Hey, stay with me.” John said, pressing a hand against the wound.
“Dean…” Sam tried to look, but his head wouldn’t turn.
“Easy, Ronon’s got him. Lie still.” John lifted Sam’s head and cradled it against his leg.
Sam shook his head against John, but it only made the dark press in closer. “Dean!”
Suddenly Dean was there beside him, Ronon lowering him to the ground while John flicked open his phone.
“Sam. Sammy.” Dean’s hands were sticky with blood as they grabbed onto Sam’s.
“I’m okay…I’m okay.” He closed his eyes and laid back, his head on John’s knee. He was going to pass out…but he was okay.
The small, deserted town was crawling with military personnel. Sam and Dean and the FBI agent were all strapped down to gurney’s ready to be airlifted to a secure hospital. John stood beside them, standing guard.
Ronon watched as SGC troops finished clearing the town of the dead. As Landry headed toward John, Ronon moved too, figuring he should be close. “So now I have dead civilians, dead police, and a wounded FBI agent.” Landry crossed his arms.
“My men were being tortured, Sir.” John said, his eyes flashing angrily. “By said FBI agent who just happened to be possessed.”
“By a demon.” Landry was clearly skeptical.
“By something. Does it matter what we call it?” John asked. “I took these guys under my protection. I couldn’t wait for your channels, Sir.”
“Choppers here. We’ll talk about this later.” Landry said, stepping back as the chopper landed.
Sam and Dean were going to be fine. A few days in the hospital, a trip back to Stargate Command to be debriefed, and a trip back to Atlantis would round out their visit home. And until they were safely back on Atlantis either John or Ronon would keep them tucked in tight.
Right now, that duty fell to Ronon.
John was doing his best at being intimidating.
Henriksen thanked the nurse who had changed his bandage and looked to John.
“I take it that this is where you tell me how lucky I am you didn’t kill me?”
John shook his head. “No, this is the part where I tell you to forget you ever heard the names Sam and Dean Winchester.”
Henriksen’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t do that.”
“I think you’ll find that you can. In fact, I think what you’ll find is that they no longer exist…not in any official capacity anyway.”
Henriksen started at him for a minute then nodded. “Right. You think because you’re military you can yank my chain.”
“I didn’t yank it.” John uncrossed his arms and moved a few steps closer. “I don’t know why you’re so hot to take them down. Now you know the demon stuff is true, and they’re doing a job for Uncle Sam. That’s all you need.”
“No sir, it’s not.” Henriksen countered. “Someone has to pay for the things they’ve done.”
John made a face. “Credit card fraud and grave desecration?”
“No. Murder.”
John sighed and shook his head.
“I’m not talking about those girls in St. Louis. I’m talking about my brother.”
