Drafted (SPN/SG-1)
Mar. 26th, 2010 06:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iliaTitle: Drafted
Author:ladyyueh
Recipient:laney_1974
Fandoms: Supernatural/Stargate: SG-1
Characters Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Jonathan “Nathan” O’Neill/Clone
Pairings: Dean/Castiel pre-slash.
Rating: PG-13 for language
Wordcount: 1700
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Supernatural and Stargate: SG-1 belong to their respective creators
A/N: Insert lots of thanks toviresse12 for taking a look at this at the last minute.
Summary: Jonathan “Nathan” O’Neill may be a clone, but he has the same tendency to get into trouble as the original. This time, he might’ve bitten off more than even he can chew.
----
He might’ve been kicked out of the loop, but that didn’t mean he was out of the game. He sure as hell wasn’t going to give up saving the world to attend highschool.
The problem was that he kept his ears to the ground for aliens and invasions from outer space and missed all the other shit that was going down in his own damned yard.
----
Jack O’Neill was a paranoid bastard. The fact that he was only an imperfect copy of the man didn’t change that. If anything, it made him even more squirrely.
“And speaking of squirrely,” Nathan murmured as his FUBAR-meter starting to ping. He surreptitiously glanced at the squirrel of the moment.
It was a boring looking guy that just felt off. He was staring a little bit too intently at a pair of guys that were entering the tree line of the copse that was adjacent to the town’s cemetery.
Nathan frowned when the creeper started to follow the guys. He sighed, called himself a dozen kinds of stupid and cursed his goddamned conscious, before starting after them all.
----
Skills were easily lost without practice and Nathan had made sure that walking through any sort of territory like a ghost was one that didn’t slip away from him.
It should have been a piece of fucking cake—chocolate cake, even—but by the time he realized that there were eyes on him, that it was a fucking trap, it was just too damned late.
’The shit you step into, O’Neill,’ he thought as he tried to block the first blow.
It was the second that knocked him out.
----
Nathan resisted the urge to groan and sigh, but he silently cursed his damned body. It was so new and unbroken, unused to the pain and abuse that was gifted from the hands of the enemy. Also, it wasn’t used to how goddamned uncomfortable stone floors were. He flexed and pulled at the ropes that bound his arms, discouraged by how very tightly his was trussed.
“Huh. Looks like our little spy is awake and playing dead. How cute.” The voice was slimy and as malicious as any Goa’uld he remembered hearing. Also, like most Goa’uld, the bastard kicked a man when he was down.
Nathan grunted and tried to curl to protect his weak spots after being kicked. He let go of the pretense of unconsciousness and glared up at the jerk-off who’d delivered the vicious hit. “What the hell is your problem, asshole?”
It was boring, nondescript guy and he was looking far more descript. Murderous to be exact, which didn’t bode well for Nathan.
“Awww, the meat bag has some fight. That’s just precious,” he cooed condescendingly. “Shut up while the grownups talk or I’ll eviscerate you, kid.”
Nathan sneered, but shut up. He was out of his depth. It would be better to shut up and figure out the damned score. It would be the smart thing to do. Who said old, new dogs couldn’t learn new tricks?
“Oh, that’s mature. Terrorize the kid. Who the hell are you, anyway? You know what? Forget it. I think I’ll call you Disposable Demon #458,” said a rough, scratchy voice with as much insolence as Nathan had ever heard.
He approved. He twisted his head around to see that the two guys he’d seen the asshole follow were pretty much chained and handcuffed to chairs. The shorter guy was smirking at their captor who took a few steps forward to deliver a hard smack to his face.
“It’s Abanazer, actually. You Winchesters, can’t keep your mouths shut, can you? Must run in the family. Like so many other things,” Abanazer’s tone was silken and full of insinuation, but fuck if Nathan could pick up anything other than that.
“Abanazer?” said the taller guy with floppy hair that, with a pang, reminded Nathan of Daniel in his early years. “Like the evil magician in Aladdin? That Abanazer?”
“Sam, I thought that was Jafar!” the other one cried out.
“Dean, you know Disney always gets it wrong,” Sam remarked calmly.
“Shut up!” Had-a-Schnauzzer demanded.
Nathan idly gave them points for annoying the man so thoroughly.
“I can’t kill you, Sammy, but the same can’t be said for your brother. In fact, you should probably be begging me to make it a quick death. I have an entire horde petitioning me, offering me all sorts of delicious things for a crack at Dean. And this one,” here, he nudged Nathan’s side none too lightly. “Who’s he? He’s got mouth and fight. He’s not another of your father’s by blows is he?” Banana-Schnoz sounded far too gleeful at the prospect for Nathan’s comfort.
A razor sharp parody of a laugh came from Dean. “Another Winchester? Don’t be stupider than you look. Every fucking Winchester dies except for us. Thought you idiots knew that by now. Must’ve missed the fucking memo, huh?”
Abanazer’s boot was sharp and Nathan knew that he’d have more than one bruise tomorrow if he survived. “Then who is it? Another hunter? I was expecting to catch your wingless birdie in my trap. Have the entire place warded just for him. Could you imagine? All three of you and I’d become Our Lord’s right hand!”
Nathan froze. Our Lord? Goa’uld?
This time, Sam laughed and it was full of mockery. “Worried about some kid, Abanazer? That’s the kind of fearlessness that will get you far in good ole Lucy’s army.”
Abanazer, surprisingly, didn’t respond. Instead, he smirked. “I was just making sure that he wasn’t anyone important. Wouldn’t do to damage the goods, you know.”
Nathan stared up from his supine position, fascinated, disgusted, and instinctually terrified as he watched the Schnoz’s eyes slick over with a film of black ink. They were empty except for a sick and twisted hunger.
“What the fuck are you!?” Nathan shouted.
Abanazer laughed, bared his teeth in a sick approximation of a grin. “Do we actually have a newbie in our midst? This is so terribly exciting. Oh, kid.” He moved closer, bending over Nathan and grabbing his chin roughly. “You’re gonna wish you’d listening to Mummy and stayed away from the deep, dark forest.”
Nathan shivered in disgust, felt the echoes of Ba’al touching him. Then he blinked, confusion chasing away the shadowed memories as he saw movement—
“And you’re gonna wish you didn’t monologue so fucking much,” Dean said smugly from behind Abanzaer.
Abanazer screamed and Nathan thought that was understandable as he saw the tip of a blade sticking out from his stomach and then watched it retreat as it was removed with a sickening squelch.
Nathan stared up at the man that had had—literally—appeared from thin air and skewered a man without expression. Not that he was complaining, but the staring was a little creepy. The head-tilt he did reminded him of Teal’c, which was a whole other level of weird.
“You have awesome timing, Cas. Now could you get us the hell out of these things before the Head Honcho decides to haul ass to get here?” Dean spoke up.
Cas stepped over Nathan, touched Dean’s bonds, and they fell away as if they’d never been fucking locked.
“I thought this place was warded, How’d you get in, Cas?” Sam asked as Cas turned and gave him the same treatment.
“I am no longer what I was,” Cas spoke in a low voice.
“Hey! Anyone wanna remember to untie me?!” Nathan wasn’t exactly keen on drawing attention the attention of whatever the fuck Cas was, but he liked the sound of Abanazer’s boss finding them less.
Dean and Sam shared a look that reminded Nathan far too much of the silent communication that went on between tight knit teams.
“Care to use your magic fingers, Cas?” Dean asked.
Nathan was about to complain about the stupidity of bantering while he was tied up and there was something headed their way when Cas’s hand was in his line of vision. Nathan flinched, but the fingers connected and there was a rush of sound and movement that made him dizzy.
He opened his eyes to the sight of the ugliest wallpaper he’d ever seen.
“Seriously, what the hell?” he asked the even uglier ceiling.
Sam was crouched next to him, untying the rope, letting the blood rush back to deadened limbs. Nathan hissed in pain.
“Sorry,” Sam murmured. “Got any place we can drop you off?”
Nathan stared at him for a long moment. “Nope. Now, what the hell happened?”
Dean spoke up then, “Nothing you need to worry about, kid.”
Nathan dragged himself into a sitting position. “Yeah, right. I’m not a kid. Tell me.”
He readied himself for an argument when Cas’s voice stopped them all.
“Dean,” he said and Dean shut up as they exchanged intense eye contact.
Nathan refrained from making a comment, taking note of the energy between the two for future reference.
Cas broke the stare out and turned his gaze on Nathan. Never one to back down from a challenge, Nathan met him head on.
The unwavering blue gaze was uncomfortable. Nathan felt naked, like his every thought was bared—sonofabitch.
“Are you reading my mind!?” Nathan demanded.
Cas looked pleased. “Jack O’Neill.”
‘That answers that question,’ Nathan thought. “Nathan,” he argued. “My name is Nathan.”
Dean spoke up then, “I don’t care if you’re John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt. If—”
“Dean, we need him,” Cas interrupted.
“Need him?” Sam echoed the words with confusion.
“He is a soldier. He will want to fight with us if he knows the truth and we need more like him in this war.”
“A soldier?” Sam and Dean both turned to look at Nathan skeptically.
“You can’t just draft people, Cas,” Dean explained.
A war. Against what? Nathan recalled the tarred, ravenous depths of Abanazer’s eyes and shuddered. “Tell me,” he demanded again.
----
“OHFORCRYINOUTLOUD! YOU PEOPLE ARE CRA—HOLY SHIT!”
----
“You okay?” Sam asked him.
“You mean, am I going to go nuts because I learned about angels and demons and the apocalypse, oh my?” Nathan arched an eyebrow à la Teal’c.
Sam shrugged. “It’d be understandable.”
Nathan smirked at Sam. “What if I said I’m more weirded out by the fact that your brother and an Angel of the Lord are making goo-goo eyes at each other?”
Sam sighed. “I hate my life.”
Nathan nodded with faux sobriety. “Preaching to the choir, kid.”
-END-
Prompt: Fandoms: Pairing: Stargate SG-1/Supernatural: Dean Winchester and Mini!Jack O'Neill (gen or romantic) AND Prompt: Wrong place/Wrong time.
Author:
ladyyuehRecipient:
laney_1974Fandoms: Supernatural/Stargate: SG-1
Characters Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Jonathan “Nathan” O’Neill/Clone
Pairings: Dean/Castiel pre-slash.
Rating: PG-13 for language
Wordcount: 1700
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Supernatural and Stargate: SG-1 belong to their respective creators
A/N: Insert lots of thanks to
viresse12 for taking a look at this at the last minute.Summary: Jonathan “Nathan” O’Neill may be a clone, but he has the same tendency to get into trouble as the original. This time, he might’ve bitten off more than even he can chew.
----
He might’ve been kicked out of the loop, but that didn’t mean he was out of the game. He sure as hell wasn’t going to give up saving the world to attend highschool.
The problem was that he kept his ears to the ground for aliens and invasions from outer space and missed all the other shit that was going down in his own damned yard.
----
Jack O’Neill was a paranoid bastard. The fact that he was only an imperfect copy of the man didn’t change that. If anything, it made him even more squirrely.
“And speaking of squirrely,” Nathan murmured as his FUBAR-meter starting to ping. He surreptitiously glanced at the squirrel of the moment.
It was a boring looking guy that just felt off. He was staring a little bit too intently at a pair of guys that were entering the tree line of the copse that was adjacent to the town’s cemetery.
Nathan frowned when the creeper started to follow the guys. He sighed, called himself a dozen kinds of stupid and cursed his goddamned conscious, before starting after them all.
----
Skills were easily lost without practice and Nathan had made sure that walking through any sort of territory like a ghost was one that didn’t slip away from him.
It should have been a piece of fucking cake—chocolate cake, even—but by the time he realized that there were eyes on him, that it was a fucking trap, it was just too damned late.
’The shit you step into, O’Neill,’ he thought as he tried to block the first blow.
It was the second that knocked him out.
----
Nathan resisted the urge to groan and sigh, but he silently cursed his damned body. It was so new and unbroken, unused to the pain and abuse that was gifted from the hands of the enemy. Also, it wasn’t used to how goddamned uncomfortable stone floors were. He flexed and pulled at the ropes that bound his arms, discouraged by how very tightly his was trussed.
“Huh. Looks like our little spy is awake and playing dead. How cute.” The voice was slimy and as malicious as any Goa’uld he remembered hearing. Also, like most Goa’uld, the bastard kicked a man when he was down.
Nathan grunted and tried to curl to protect his weak spots after being kicked. He let go of the pretense of unconsciousness and glared up at the jerk-off who’d delivered the vicious hit. “What the hell is your problem, asshole?”
It was boring, nondescript guy and he was looking far more descript. Murderous to be exact, which didn’t bode well for Nathan.
“Awww, the meat bag has some fight. That’s just precious,” he cooed condescendingly. “Shut up while the grownups talk or I’ll eviscerate you, kid.”
Nathan sneered, but shut up. He was out of his depth. It would be better to shut up and figure out the damned score. It would be the smart thing to do. Who said old, new dogs couldn’t learn new tricks?
“Oh, that’s mature. Terrorize the kid. Who the hell are you, anyway? You know what? Forget it. I think I’ll call you Disposable Demon #458,” said a rough, scratchy voice with as much insolence as Nathan had ever heard.
He approved. He twisted his head around to see that the two guys he’d seen the asshole follow were pretty much chained and handcuffed to chairs. The shorter guy was smirking at their captor who took a few steps forward to deliver a hard smack to his face.
“It’s Abanazer, actually. You Winchesters, can’t keep your mouths shut, can you? Must run in the family. Like so many other things,” Abanazer’s tone was silken and full of insinuation, but fuck if Nathan could pick up anything other than that.
“Abanazer?” said the taller guy with floppy hair that, with a pang, reminded Nathan of Daniel in his early years. “Like the evil magician in Aladdin? That Abanazer?”
“Sam, I thought that was Jafar!” the other one cried out.
“Dean, you know Disney always gets it wrong,” Sam remarked calmly.
“Shut up!” Had-a-Schnauzzer demanded.
Nathan idly gave them points for annoying the man so thoroughly.
“I can’t kill you, Sammy, but the same can’t be said for your brother. In fact, you should probably be begging me to make it a quick death. I have an entire horde petitioning me, offering me all sorts of delicious things for a crack at Dean. And this one,” here, he nudged Nathan’s side none too lightly. “Who’s he? He’s got mouth and fight. He’s not another of your father’s by blows is he?” Banana-Schnoz sounded far too gleeful at the prospect for Nathan’s comfort.
A razor sharp parody of a laugh came from Dean. “Another Winchester? Don’t be stupider than you look. Every fucking Winchester dies except for us. Thought you idiots knew that by now. Must’ve missed the fucking memo, huh?”
Abanazer’s boot was sharp and Nathan knew that he’d have more than one bruise tomorrow if he survived. “Then who is it? Another hunter? I was expecting to catch your wingless birdie in my trap. Have the entire place warded just for him. Could you imagine? All three of you and I’d become Our Lord’s right hand!”
Nathan froze. Our Lord? Goa’uld?
This time, Sam laughed and it was full of mockery. “Worried about some kid, Abanazer? That’s the kind of fearlessness that will get you far in good ole Lucy’s army.”
Abanazer, surprisingly, didn’t respond. Instead, he smirked. “I was just making sure that he wasn’t anyone important. Wouldn’t do to damage the goods, you know.”
Nathan stared up from his supine position, fascinated, disgusted, and instinctually terrified as he watched the Schnoz’s eyes slick over with a film of black ink. They were empty except for a sick and twisted hunger.
“What the fuck are you!?” Nathan shouted.
Abanazer laughed, bared his teeth in a sick approximation of a grin. “Do we actually have a newbie in our midst? This is so terribly exciting. Oh, kid.” He moved closer, bending over Nathan and grabbing his chin roughly. “You’re gonna wish you’d listening to Mummy and stayed away from the deep, dark forest.”
Nathan shivered in disgust, felt the echoes of Ba’al touching him. Then he blinked, confusion chasing away the shadowed memories as he saw movement—
“And you’re gonna wish you didn’t monologue so fucking much,” Dean said smugly from behind Abanzaer.
Abanazer screamed and Nathan thought that was understandable as he saw the tip of a blade sticking out from his stomach and then watched it retreat as it was removed with a sickening squelch.
Nathan stared up at the man that had had—literally—appeared from thin air and skewered a man without expression. Not that he was complaining, but the staring was a little creepy. The head-tilt he did reminded him of Teal’c, which was a whole other level of weird.
“You have awesome timing, Cas. Now could you get us the hell out of these things before the Head Honcho decides to haul ass to get here?” Dean spoke up.
Cas stepped over Nathan, touched Dean’s bonds, and they fell away as if they’d never been fucking locked.
“I thought this place was warded, How’d you get in, Cas?” Sam asked as Cas turned and gave him the same treatment.
“I am no longer what I was,” Cas spoke in a low voice.
“Hey! Anyone wanna remember to untie me?!” Nathan wasn’t exactly keen on drawing attention the attention of whatever the fuck Cas was, but he liked the sound of Abanazer’s boss finding them less.
Dean and Sam shared a look that reminded Nathan far too much of the silent communication that went on between tight knit teams.
“Care to use your magic fingers, Cas?” Dean asked.
Nathan was about to complain about the stupidity of bantering while he was tied up and there was something headed their way when Cas’s hand was in his line of vision. Nathan flinched, but the fingers connected and there was a rush of sound and movement that made him dizzy.
He opened his eyes to the sight of the ugliest wallpaper he’d ever seen.
“Seriously, what the hell?” he asked the even uglier ceiling.
Sam was crouched next to him, untying the rope, letting the blood rush back to deadened limbs. Nathan hissed in pain.
“Sorry,” Sam murmured. “Got any place we can drop you off?”
Nathan stared at him for a long moment. “Nope. Now, what the hell happened?”
Dean spoke up then, “Nothing you need to worry about, kid.”
Nathan dragged himself into a sitting position. “Yeah, right. I’m not a kid. Tell me.”
He readied himself for an argument when Cas’s voice stopped them all.
“Dean,” he said and Dean shut up as they exchanged intense eye contact.
Nathan refrained from making a comment, taking note of the energy between the two for future reference.
Cas broke the stare out and turned his gaze on Nathan. Never one to back down from a challenge, Nathan met him head on.
The unwavering blue gaze was uncomfortable. Nathan felt naked, like his every thought was bared—sonofabitch.
“Are you reading my mind!?” Nathan demanded.
Cas looked pleased. “Jack O’Neill.”
‘That answers that question,’ Nathan thought. “Nathan,” he argued. “My name is Nathan.”
Dean spoke up then, “I don’t care if you’re John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt. If—”
“Dean, we need him,” Cas interrupted.
“Need him?” Sam echoed the words with confusion.
“He is a soldier. He will want to fight with us if he knows the truth and we need more like him in this war.”
“A soldier?” Sam and Dean both turned to look at Nathan skeptically.
“You can’t just draft people, Cas,” Dean explained.
A war. Against what? Nathan recalled the tarred, ravenous depths of Abanazer’s eyes and shuddered. “Tell me,” he demanded again.
----
“OHFORCRYINOUTLOUD! YOU PEOPLE ARE CRA—HOLY SHIT!”
----
“You okay?” Sam asked him.
“You mean, am I going to go nuts because I learned about angels and demons and the apocalypse, oh my?” Nathan arched an eyebrow à la Teal’c.
Sam shrugged. “It’d be understandable.”
Nathan smirked at Sam. “What if I said I’m more weirded out by the fact that your brother and an Angel of the Lord are making goo-goo eyes at each other?”
Sam sighed. “I hate my life.”
Nathan nodded with faux sobriety. “Preaching to the choir, kid.”
-END-
Prompt: Fandoms: Pairing: Stargate SG-1/Supernatural: Dean Winchester and Mini!Jack O'Neill (gen or romantic) AND Prompt: Wrong place/Wrong time.
