(no subject)
Title: A Bond of Fate 3/4
Author: Mich
Rating: PG-13 for implied violence
Genre: AU, gen
Spoilers: up through episode 1.18 Something Wicked
Summary: Jayme works on a report to her people about the events in Fitchburg WI. But how do you explain a shtriga to people on another world?
Chapter Three
“Jayme, it’s three in the morning and that light is keeping me awake,” Dean muttered, rolling over. “Aren’t you done yet?”
“I have to collate these biological profiles and link them to the archived genetic sequences of the Sel’ve’th and create an open-face profile for-”
“Forget it, you lost me at collate,” he groaned. “Just turn it down a little, huh?”
“Yes dear,” Jayme replied, turning the contrast down.
~~~
Since joining this strange pair of human hunters, there have been times when they’ve asked me if it’s possible that what they’re hunting could be a neromancer. I try not to get defensive, since to be honest some of the signs do point to one of us and we are responsible for some of the monster myths that plague mankind.
Now it’s rapidly become an in-joke. For example, Sam and I went to the library after making sure Michael-the boy I referred to earlier-was all right. I’m catching on fast but Sam still has a decade of experience on me, so I followed his lead.
Sam is twenty-three, an age at which most humans are still in college. From what I understand he earned a ‘full ride’ to Stanford University (as we know, in the United States and many other countries on this planet, education is free only to a point, after which students have to pay to attend advanced schools, and currently these amounts are obscene, so to earn through effort one’s college education at no cost is quite a feat) and was preparing to enter law school when Dean interrupted his studies to look for their father.
Far be it for me to make any judgments on his life, but secretly I feel it would have been a waste of his talent. I have no doubt he would be a skilled lawyer, since much of their work is focused around things he already does by instinct-tracking down information, making strategies, etc. all with winning in mind, but the law is dull, even on our planet, and somehow I feel certain that even the most exciting case cannot compare to a hunt.
It excites me to see him work, how his attention draws down to a bead, his eyes razor sharp even over mere words, how he is able to find information with ease and his mind has the hunter’s nimbleness to be able to make connections and draw a picture. He fights this so hard and I don’t know why-he thinks he wants a different way of life but I truly wonder how much he might be running away from what he wants. In the moment, all of that fades and he enters into whenneya. As I’ve said, I am beginning to see much of us in them.
Starting with amsha, he sought out any other instances of these illnesses in the region, and together we scoured the library’s microfilm for them. I would have preferred to use our computers as it would have taken a fraction of the time, but that might have aroused suspicion. In true fashion, he started with the information he had from his father and branched from there. I used a few tricks I’ve picked up to help speed things along, and we were able to establish the peshara of this particular creature, which study revealed has been feeding on children in various towns since the Earth nineteenth century-almost one hundred of their years.
Sometimes things just come together at the right moment. Sam was speaking with Dean when he happened upon an old photograph from 1893, in the middle of which was the doctor we’d seen at the hospital the day before. Over a hundred years have passed, and the good doctor doesn’t look a day older. Sam naturally asked (see what I mean about in-jokes) and I assured him that if the doctor were a neromancer he’d show some aging after a century.
We had found our shtriga.
~~~
The rolling hills of upper Pennsylvania looked no different than the rolling hills of lower New York state as they headed north, Dean behind the wheel and blasting Led Zeppelin at the vines they passed. Even now it still felt like home.
Sam turned around in the passenger seat. “How can you read with all this noise?” he shouted.
“I’m used to it, Sam. Trust me.”
“Did you finish yet?” Sam frowned. “Why are you smiling?”
“Yeah, did you put in a funny computation or something?” Dean said.
“Bugger off, both of you. I sometimes just think funny things, okay?”
~~~
I knew Dean would be angry when he found out that the very doctor caring for the sick children was the one who had made them ill in the first place. He kept it under control but they were both livid, pacing around the motel room as soon as we were back together. Dean said that he hadn’t gone armed to the hospital or he’d have burned a clip into the good doctor just on principal, meaning he would have used his weapon even though it would have done no good.
Having determined who we were after, we moved to tetenhya, planning how we would go about destroying this creature. It may be true that they hunt for a different reason, but the actions are the same.
Here is where I found out why this hunt was different.
When they were sent on this hunt they were given coordinates. Nothing more. They had to figure out for themselves why they were sent there, and it was clear by now that it was beyond the obvious. Sam thought that their father had sent them, but Dean saw it differently.
Dean has a hard time opening up; lake many human males, he thinks that talking about feelings or things that are bothering him is a sign of weakness, but he is at least smart enough to realize that there are times when it’s necessary. This time I was not expected to leave the room. Evidently I am now part of the gang enough to hear things of a sensitive family nature.
When they were young, their father took them to Fort Douglas, Wisconsin. From what I understand, when Dean and Sam were children their father would often leave them by themselves once Dean was old enough to understand instructions and, in their case, fire a weapon. Theirs was an upbringing that would certainly have aroused the horror of other humans, especially ones who concern themselves with the welfare of children, but in some ways John Winchester raised his sons as if he were a neromancer, although with a good deal more sternness.
But Sam and Dean are not neromancers, and their early life was not a Katarinian one. From what little I’ve been told it was constantly moving from motel room to motel room, or being left (or, as Dean puts it, “dumped”) with friends or relatives for weeks at a time, and when their father was around, he was either inebriated or more concerned with drilling his sons than doing any kind of nurturing.
I know that Ahma saw a different side to him, and I have as well, but even so the hardships have left their mark. There is a regret and bitterness for the lives they were forced to lead, and, I’m sure, uncountable wishes over the years for things to have been different. I can relate.
Anyway, in this case Dean was left to watch his brother, and like young children everywhere, he became restless, and after days he was, as he called it, “climbing the walls.” Motels on this planet are not exectly centers of excitement for adults, and can be unutterably boring for children. (Interesting side note; although human children are much smaller and weaker than ours, they can do an extraordinary amount of damage to things and cause an amount of mischief that seems totally inconsistent with their power.)
He left his brother alone in the room, locking the door behind him, and went a short distance away to where there were some games (video games, see prior reports filed under Human Technological Diversions 1988 - 1992). Something that other human children take for granted, the ability to have fun and be a child.
When he returned the shtriga was in the room with Sam, about to feed on him. He went for the gun, hesitating before the creature as someone young and untrained will sometimes do. His father burst in and fired, sending the shtriga running. His concern rested with his younger son but his anger was directed at his elder son for not doing what he was told. They left, and when John returned, the shtriga was gone.
How can I put into words, how can I explain the tangled emotions at play here? Maybe I don’t have to. These people are not all that different from us, and these humans are closer than most. Dean blames himself for many things-letting his father down, nearly getting Sam killed, and most of all, the entire reason for his focus now, letting the shtriga get away so that it could go after other kids. I could tell it weighed very heavy on him, and he refused any absolution because of his young age.
And it is because of this that Dean took everything personally, and was determined to end it himself.
The’shana noora aahs ti nha shu’na. Or, as one of Dean’s favorite movies put it: “You and I have unfinished business.”
Chapter Four
Author: Mich
Rating: PG-13 for implied violence
Genre: AU, gen
Spoilers: up through episode 1.18 Something Wicked
Summary: Jayme works on a report to her people about the events in Fitchburg WI. But how do you explain a shtriga to people on another world?
Chapter Three
“Jayme, it’s three in the morning and that light is keeping me awake,” Dean muttered, rolling over. “Aren’t you done yet?”
“I have to collate these biological profiles and link them to the archived genetic sequences of the Sel’ve’th and create an open-face profile for-”
“Forget it, you lost me at collate,” he groaned. “Just turn it down a little, huh?”
“Yes dear,” Jayme replied, turning the contrast down.
~~~
Since joining this strange pair of human hunters, there have been times when they’ve asked me if it’s possible that what they’re hunting could be a neromancer. I try not to get defensive, since to be honest some of the signs do point to one of us and we are responsible for some of the monster myths that plague mankind.
Now it’s rapidly become an in-joke. For example, Sam and I went to the library after making sure Michael-the boy I referred to earlier-was all right. I’m catching on fast but Sam still has a decade of experience on me, so I followed his lead.
Sam is twenty-three, an age at which most humans are still in college. From what I understand he earned a ‘full ride’ to Stanford University (as we know, in the United States and many other countries on this planet, education is free only to a point, after which students have to pay to attend advanced schools, and currently these amounts are obscene, so to earn through effort one’s college education at no cost is quite a feat) and was preparing to enter law school when Dean interrupted his studies to look for their father.
Far be it for me to make any judgments on his life, but secretly I feel it would have been a waste of his talent. I have no doubt he would be a skilled lawyer, since much of their work is focused around things he already does by instinct-tracking down information, making strategies, etc. all with winning in mind, but the law is dull, even on our planet, and somehow I feel certain that even the most exciting case cannot compare to a hunt.
It excites me to see him work, how his attention draws down to a bead, his eyes razor sharp even over mere words, how he is able to find information with ease and his mind has the hunter’s nimbleness to be able to make connections and draw a picture. He fights this so hard and I don’t know why-he thinks he wants a different way of life but I truly wonder how much he might be running away from what he wants. In the moment, all of that fades and he enters into whenneya. As I’ve said, I am beginning to see much of us in them.
Starting with amsha, he sought out any other instances of these illnesses in the region, and together we scoured the library’s microfilm for them. I would have preferred to use our computers as it would have taken a fraction of the time, but that might have aroused suspicion. In true fashion, he started with the information he had from his father and branched from there. I used a few tricks I’ve picked up to help speed things along, and we were able to establish the peshara of this particular creature, which study revealed has been feeding on children in various towns since the Earth nineteenth century-almost one hundred of their years.
Sometimes things just come together at the right moment. Sam was speaking with Dean when he happened upon an old photograph from 1893, in the middle of which was the doctor we’d seen at the hospital the day before. Over a hundred years have passed, and the good doctor doesn’t look a day older. Sam naturally asked (see what I mean about in-jokes) and I assured him that if the doctor were a neromancer he’d show some aging after a century.
We had found our shtriga.
~~~
The rolling hills of upper Pennsylvania looked no different than the rolling hills of lower New York state as they headed north, Dean behind the wheel and blasting Led Zeppelin at the vines they passed. Even now it still felt like home.
Sam turned around in the passenger seat. “How can you read with all this noise?” he shouted.
“I’m used to it, Sam. Trust me.”
“Did you finish yet?” Sam frowned. “Why are you smiling?”
“Yeah, did you put in a funny computation or something?” Dean said.
“Bugger off, both of you. I sometimes just think funny things, okay?”
~~~
I knew Dean would be angry when he found out that the very doctor caring for the sick children was the one who had made them ill in the first place. He kept it under control but they were both livid, pacing around the motel room as soon as we were back together. Dean said that he hadn’t gone armed to the hospital or he’d have burned a clip into the good doctor just on principal, meaning he would have used his weapon even though it would have done no good.
Having determined who we were after, we moved to tetenhya, planning how we would go about destroying this creature. It may be true that they hunt for a different reason, but the actions are the same.
Here is where I found out why this hunt was different.
When they were sent on this hunt they were given coordinates. Nothing more. They had to figure out for themselves why they were sent there, and it was clear by now that it was beyond the obvious. Sam thought that their father had sent them, but Dean saw it differently.
Dean has a hard time opening up; lake many human males, he thinks that talking about feelings or things that are bothering him is a sign of weakness, but he is at least smart enough to realize that there are times when it’s necessary. This time I was not expected to leave the room. Evidently I am now part of the gang enough to hear things of a sensitive family nature.
When they were young, their father took them to Fort Douglas, Wisconsin. From what I understand, when Dean and Sam were children their father would often leave them by themselves once Dean was old enough to understand instructions and, in their case, fire a weapon. Theirs was an upbringing that would certainly have aroused the horror of other humans, especially ones who concern themselves with the welfare of children, but in some ways John Winchester raised his sons as if he were a neromancer, although with a good deal more sternness.
But Sam and Dean are not neromancers, and their early life was not a Katarinian one. From what little I’ve been told it was constantly moving from motel room to motel room, or being left (or, as Dean puts it, “dumped”) with friends or relatives for weeks at a time, and when their father was around, he was either inebriated or more concerned with drilling his sons than doing any kind of nurturing.
I know that Ahma saw a different side to him, and I have as well, but even so the hardships have left their mark. There is a regret and bitterness for the lives they were forced to lead, and, I’m sure, uncountable wishes over the years for things to have been different. I can relate.
Anyway, in this case Dean was left to watch his brother, and like young children everywhere, he became restless, and after days he was, as he called it, “climbing the walls.” Motels on this planet are not exectly centers of excitement for adults, and can be unutterably boring for children. (Interesting side note; although human children are much smaller and weaker than ours, they can do an extraordinary amount of damage to things and cause an amount of mischief that seems totally inconsistent with their power.)
He left his brother alone in the room, locking the door behind him, and went a short distance away to where there were some games (video games, see prior reports filed under Human Technological Diversions 1988 - 1992). Something that other human children take for granted, the ability to have fun and be a child.
When he returned the shtriga was in the room with Sam, about to feed on him. He went for the gun, hesitating before the creature as someone young and untrained will sometimes do. His father burst in and fired, sending the shtriga running. His concern rested with his younger son but his anger was directed at his elder son for not doing what he was told. They left, and when John returned, the shtriga was gone.
How can I put into words, how can I explain the tangled emotions at play here? Maybe I don’t have to. These people are not all that different from us, and these humans are closer than most. Dean blames himself for many things-letting his father down, nearly getting Sam killed, and most of all, the entire reason for his focus now, letting the shtriga get away so that it could go after other kids. I could tell it weighed very heavy on him, and he refused any absolution because of his young age.
And it is because of this that Dean took everything personally, and was determined to end it himself.
The’shana noora aahs ti nha shu’na. Or, as one of Dean’s favorite movies put it: “You and I have unfinished business.”
Chapter Four