chase the stars across the sky
Title: chase the stars across the sky
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica/Supernatural crossover
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. The real puppetmasters are Ron Moore and Eric Kripke, I only borrowed their toys for a little while.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Vague season one BSG spoilers for ‘Water’, nothing specific for SPN.
Summary: Chief is in some trouble and his crew calls in someone to help him out.
Dedication: This is all for you, hiyacynth, babe. Happy belated birthday.
Sam stared out at the growing hulk of the Galactica, scarred and imposing. From beside him he could hear Dean communicating with the ship, a low-level stream of jokes interspersed with brusque responses to landing coordinates and instructions. It wasn’t like Dean needed the instructions, he was over here all the godsdamn time as it was, but even the complete destruction of their civilization by a robot threat wouldn’t deter military protocol and procedure.
The transport landed with a resounding bang and Sam turned in time to get the full effect of Dean’s grin. Sam expressively rolled his eyes, the jackass was obviously up to something. Dean winked at him and jumped up, the outer door already opening onto the chaos of Galactica’s landing deck.
“Dean Winchester,” a spitfire in a deckhand’s orange jumpsuit yelled from underneath a nearby viper. “If you’ve banged up the deck you’re hammering each and every ding out yourself.”
“Aawww, Cally, don’t be like that,” Dean pouted. This Cally apparently knew him well enough to let a dirty, stubborn look be her only response.
She swung out from underneath the bird and came over to them, wiping her hands on a grimy rag. “You’re his brother, the advocate?” she said to Sam, ignoring the mock-hurt slapped on Dean’s face. Out of the corner of his eye Sam saw hurt transform into an amused grin as Dean wandered off to do whatever it was he did when he came over.
Sam grinned at her ruefully, amused by the description. It was official, he was stuck with being Dean’s Brother for the rest of forever. “Yeah, I’m Sam.” She grinned back at him and he felt his own smile grow in response.
“Great, I’ll take you to the Chief.” He had just enough time to grab his briefcase before Cally turned and started heading across the bay.
“Be gentle with my baby brother,” Dean called from where he was looking over an engine block with another orange-clad crewmember.
“Frak off, Winchester,” Cally cheerfully called back. She gave Sam a friendly, conspiratorial wink when he chuckled. The deck was too loud for conversation and, anyway, Sam had to use all of his concentration to avoid running into the various pieces of machinery that Cally danced around instinctively.
“We’re awfully grateful that you were able to come over and help Chief out,” she said as they passed through a door in the bulkhead and emerged into a bustling, clastrophobic passageway. “I know he didn’t do anything but with the investigation and everyone so on edge after the explosion-”
“You want to cover all your bases.” Sam filled in her unspoken thought. “Don’t worry, I’ll do everything I can to help him.”
He must’ve said the right thing because he was rewarded with another one of those warm grins. “Your brother said you were the man to talk to.”
She pulled open a pressure door. “It’s right through here.” They stepped into a room cluttered up with wires and tools and supplies that Sam vaguely recognized from his dad’s old workshop. “Do you need anything?” She offered helpfully.
He looked down at his briefcase briefly, lips pursed, “No, I don’t think so.”
Before she could reply they heard an overly loud, “It’s right in here, Chief.” They had just enough time to turn and face the door before a sturdy-looking man stepped through it. He didn’t notice them at first, all of his attention was focused over his shoulder towards whomever had brought him there.
“I don’t see what was so important that it couldn’t wait till shift was over,” he groused.
He looked over and his eyes went steely when he caught sight of Sam. They stared at each other for a drawn out moment but Sam had spent too much time locking horns with his father to be cowed by a glare, no matter how intimidating.
“Cally, Jammer, what’s going on?” The dark-haired deckhand who’d followed the Chief in hung his head at the tone in his voice. Cally swallowed uncomfortably but still met his gaze head on.
“I’m Sam Winchester,” Sam said, stepping forward, more than willing to take any disapproval on himself. “Your crew thought you might want a little help with everything that’s been going on.”
Chief didn’t say anything for a long moment. He looked from Cally to Jammer and back to Sam, his jaw clenching and unclenching. His face didn’t reveal much but Sam had spent enough time around stoic men to catch quick glimpses of frustration and uncertainty. He remained silent, knowing that nothing he could say would influence Chiefs answer one way or another and might do more harm than good, if experience with his father had taught him anything.
He could see the exact moment when Chief made his decision. He squared his shoulders and met Sam straight on. “I’m grateful for the offer, but I can handle this myself.”
Sam nodded, there wasn’t anything he could say to that.
“Now,” Chief looked back at his crew, eyes narrowed. “If you’re done motherhenning me, we’ve got work to do.” From the happily abashed looks on Cally and Jammer’s faces they understood the glint in Chief’s eye to be the ‘thank you’ he’d never actually say. Chief nodded politely at Sam and stepped out, Jammer, close on his heels.
Sam turned to Cally and shrugged, he’d tried. Her barely audible sigh was more than enough to communicate her resignation over her Chief’s stubborness. “So, my brother’ll be a while. Is there anywhere around here where a hungry guy could grab a bite?” He asked with a hopeful grin.
Cally pondered for a second. “Do you play Triad?”
Sam carefully considered the impish look in her eye. “Yes,” He replied, drawing out the vowel uncertainly.
“Perfect. I know just the place. Come on.” And she lead him out the door.
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica/Supernatural crossover
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. The real puppetmasters are Ron Moore and Eric Kripke, I only borrowed their toys for a little while.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Vague season one BSG spoilers for ‘Water’, nothing specific for SPN.
Summary: Chief is in some trouble and his crew calls in someone to help him out.
Dedication: This is all for you, hiyacynth, babe. Happy belated birthday.
Sam stared out at the growing hulk of the Galactica, scarred and imposing. From beside him he could hear Dean communicating with the ship, a low-level stream of jokes interspersed with brusque responses to landing coordinates and instructions. It wasn’t like Dean needed the instructions, he was over here all the godsdamn time as it was, but even the complete destruction of their civilization by a robot threat wouldn’t deter military protocol and procedure.
The transport landed with a resounding bang and Sam turned in time to get the full effect of Dean’s grin. Sam expressively rolled his eyes, the jackass was obviously up to something. Dean winked at him and jumped up, the outer door already opening onto the chaos of Galactica’s landing deck.
“Dean Winchester,” a spitfire in a deckhand’s orange jumpsuit yelled from underneath a nearby viper. “If you’ve banged up the deck you’re hammering each and every ding out yourself.”
“Aawww, Cally, don’t be like that,” Dean pouted. This Cally apparently knew him well enough to let a dirty, stubborn look be her only response.
She swung out from underneath the bird and came over to them, wiping her hands on a grimy rag. “You’re his brother, the advocate?” she said to Sam, ignoring the mock-hurt slapped on Dean’s face. Out of the corner of his eye Sam saw hurt transform into an amused grin as Dean wandered off to do whatever it was he did when he came over.
Sam grinned at her ruefully, amused by the description. It was official, he was stuck with being Dean’s Brother for the rest of forever. “Yeah, I’m Sam.” She grinned back at him and he felt his own smile grow in response.
“Great, I’ll take you to the Chief.” He had just enough time to grab his briefcase before Cally turned and started heading across the bay.
“Be gentle with my baby brother,” Dean called from where he was looking over an engine block with another orange-clad crewmember.
“Frak off, Winchester,” Cally cheerfully called back. She gave Sam a friendly, conspiratorial wink when he chuckled. The deck was too loud for conversation and, anyway, Sam had to use all of his concentration to avoid running into the various pieces of machinery that Cally danced around instinctively.
“We’re awfully grateful that you were able to come over and help Chief out,” she said as they passed through a door in the bulkhead and emerged into a bustling, clastrophobic passageway. “I know he didn’t do anything but with the investigation and everyone so on edge after the explosion-”
“You want to cover all your bases.” Sam filled in her unspoken thought. “Don’t worry, I’ll do everything I can to help him.”
He must’ve said the right thing because he was rewarded with another one of those warm grins. “Your brother said you were the man to talk to.”
She pulled open a pressure door. “It’s right through here.” They stepped into a room cluttered up with wires and tools and supplies that Sam vaguely recognized from his dad’s old workshop. “Do you need anything?” She offered helpfully.
He looked down at his briefcase briefly, lips pursed, “No, I don’t think so.”
Before she could reply they heard an overly loud, “It’s right in here, Chief.” They had just enough time to turn and face the door before a sturdy-looking man stepped through it. He didn’t notice them at first, all of his attention was focused over his shoulder towards whomever had brought him there.
“I don’t see what was so important that it couldn’t wait till shift was over,” he groused.
He looked over and his eyes went steely when he caught sight of Sam. They stared at each other for a drawn out moment but Sam had spent too much time locking horns with his father to be cowed by a glare, no matter how intimidating.
“Cally, Jammer, what’s going on?” The dark-haired deckhand who’d followed the Chief in hung his head at the tone in his voice. Cally swallowed uncomfortably but still met his gaze head on.
“I’m Sam Winchester,” Sam said, stepping forward, more than willing to take any disapproval on himself. “Your crew thought you might want a little help with everything that’s been going on.”
Chief didn’t say anything for a long moment. He looked from Cally to Jammer and back to Sam, his jaw clenching and unclenching. His face didn’t reveal much but Sam had spent enough time around stoic men to catch quick glimpses of frustration and uncertainty. He remained silent, knowing that nothing he could say would influence Chiefs answer one way or another and might do more harm than good, if experience with his father had taught him anything.
He could see the exact moment when Chief made his decision. He squared his shoulders and met Sam straight on. “I’m grateful for the offer, but I can handle this myself.”
Sam nodded, there wasn’t anything he could say to that.
“Now,” Chief looked back at his crew, eyes narrowed. “If you’re done motherhenning me, we’ve got work to do.” From the happily abashed looks on Cally and Jammer’s faces they understood the glint in Chief’s eye to be the ‘thank you’ he’d never actually say. Chief nodded politely at Sam and stepped out, Jammer, close on his heels.
Sam turned to Cally and shrugged, he’d tried. Her barely audible sigh was more than enough to communicate her resignation over her Chief’s stubborness. “So, my brother’ll be a while. Is there anywhere around here where a hungry guy could grab a bite?” He asked with a hopeful grin.
Cally pondered for a second. “Do you play Triad?”
Sam carefully considered the impish look in her eye. “Yes,” He replied, drawing out the vowel uncertainly.
“Perfect. I know just the place. Come on.” And she lead him out the door.