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kathierif_ficTitle: Clowns, Demons, Wraith
Author: Kathie
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis/Supernatural
Warnings: crossover, mini tiny spoilers for SGA 404 Doppelganger, SPN 202 Everybody Loves A Clown. This is a past!fic – Mini!John and Wee!chester Sammy.
Rating: FRT-13
Word Count: 1,722
Disclaimer: Neither SGA nor SPN are mine. Figment of my imagination. But what a great imagination it can be...
Summary: Two boys are caught in a clown's labyrinth and need to escape in order to survive…
Authors Notes: Inspired by watching SGA and the amusing thought of both John Sheppard and Sam Winchester hating clowns. For Ginny. Thank you again - you know what for, right? *hugs you tight*
***
They didn't know each other, but somehow, they both had managed to slip through the almost invisible crack in the wall and ended up in this weird labyrinth, and they both ended up crouched behind a corner as soon as they figured out that the only other occupant of the labyrinth wasn't as nice as he had tried to make them believe.
The two boys looked at each other with wide eyes. The younger of the two sniffled slightly and wiped a small fist under his nose. "I want Dean," he said in a small voice.
The older one frowned slightly. "Who is Dean?" he asked before looking over his shoulder again. He was tense, as if he expected an attack every moment, his dark hair, cut very short - he had to thank his father for that one, who wanted to see his son grow up a good soldier, and that included the haircut - matted with dirt and other things he didn't exactly want to think about.
"I want Dean," the boy repeated. He looked as if he wanted to start crying every moment, and that was the last thing they both could need.
"I'm John," the older one said and kneeled down in front of him. "What's your name?"
"S-S-Sammy," the younger one whispered and sniffled again.
"Okay, Sammy." John nodded and tried to smile at him. "We have to get outta here without this...thing getting us."
Sam nodded and took a deep breath. "Yes sir," he whispered, and John wondered if Sammy's dad was in the military too, and if he was, why was Sammy allowed to have this floppy long hair and he had to have his almost shaved off?
He took Sammy's hand in his. He wouldn't leave him behind, that was for sure. No man was left behind. It was something his father had always preached, and John didn't plan on leaving Sammy behind. Sammy was only a kid. He probably wasn't older than five or so, and to John's thirteen years, that was practically a baby. He wouldn't leave him behind.
"I get you home," he promised quietly.
Sammy nodded. He had quietened down, thankfully, and he didn't offer any resistance when John started to pull him forwards, towards the exit of the maze like place they had been trapped in. They needed to get away, without getting seen by the clown. It would hunt them down and kill them; they both knew that for sure. They had seen what this thing was capable of.
John carefully looked around, and when the coast seemed clear, he grabbed Sammy's hand tighter and began running.
When Sammy's short legs couldn't keep up with him, he managed to pick him up and half-drag, half-carry him towards the safety of the exit.
They almost made it.
It was only ten or so steps to safety when suddenly, a hand in a white glove landed heavily on John's shoulder. Sammy screamed and started kicking and biting, and the shock and sudden fear was enough for John to drop the wildly struggling boy.
Sammy screamed even louder and scrambled backwards, towards safety. John wanted to follow him, but he was ripped backwards. A horrible burning pain shot through his shoulder, and he howled in surprised shock as he fell.
He landed hard, and as he struggled for breath, he slowly dragged his eyes up to look into the pasty white, mask-like face of the clown, smiling diabolically at him.
It was as if everything stopped. The only sound he could hear was the rush of blood in his own ears and his own panicked breathing as the clown slowly bent down. His gloves were ripped, revealing long, talon-like fingernails. Blood was dripping from one hand where the clown had ripped into John's shoulder.
He couldn't even yell at Sammy to get up and run, get to safety, get away - his throat was too dry and had closed up, and his teeth clattered in panic as the clown's hands came closer and closer to his face.
He was suddenly sure that he would die here, at the hands of a psychotic clown. He never had cared much for clowns, but he'd never been scared of them either. He'd always thought that he'd grow up to be a pilot, and not die here, like this. This was not honorable, he was sure of it. His father, General Sheppard, would be ashamed of him.
Again.
A loud shout interrupted the spell lying over him, and suddenly the time moved normal again. He could hear footsteps, and briefly he wondered where they came from. He and Sammy had just by accident found into this labyrinth, or maybe they'd been pulled in by something, but he was sure that nobody else had seen the secret door that led into it. But there were steps, and loud yells, and then there was the sound of a gun, and John did what his father had taught him to do and curled himself up and tried to stay as close to the ground as possible, so the enemy wouldn't hit him and he would have a chance to survive. He squeezed his eyes shut, but then he thought of Sammy and slowly he forced himself to open his eyes and look - Sammy was still a baby, and he surely didn't know what to do when someone was shooting at him, how should he, he was too young, and it was John's responsibility to make sure he was okay - but he didn't see the younger boy.
Instead he saw the silhouette of the clown. He was burning bright, shrieking and howling, the pasty color dripping off his face and revealing rotting flesh and bones, and John never wanted to see something like that again.
He crawled away as good as he could with his shoulder still bleeding. He needed to find Sammy.
John Sheppard would not leave one of his men behind. Not him.
It was his last thought before he lost consciousness.
***
"Kid?"
John blinked softly at the rough, unfamiliar voice that went with the tap against his cheek. His shoulder burned and throbbed, and he needed a moment to realize that he couldn't have been unconscious for long. He was still on his back in the dirt of the maze. A man was kneeling next to him. He had dark hair and a beard, and, how cool was that, he was holding a crossbow in his right hand. The left hand rested against John's neck now, checking for a pulse. Behind the man's shoulder, John could still see smoke rising from the clown's corpse.
He tried to sit up and hissed at the pain shooting through his whole body.
"Easy there, that thing got you pretty good," the man said and gripped his healthy shoulder to keep him upright. "You back with me, kid?"
"His name is John," Sammy said from behind the man's shoulder. He had his thumb in his mouth now, his other hand was firmly wrapped into another boy's shirt. John suspected that this boy was Dean. To his great satisfaction, he noticed that Dean had the same haircut as he had – short and easy to take care of. He seemed a few years younger than John, and he stared at him with an expression that was hard to decipher for John. It could be hate, but it could also be something else.
He didn't care. He felt too dizzy to pay much attention to it.
"John," the man nodded. "My name is John too."
John nodded shakily. "Is Sammy okay?" he asked. He almost didn't recognize his own voice. It was rough and scratchy, as if he'd talked too much, or screamed too long and too loud. He suspected that it was the second.
The man nodded. "He's fine. What about you? Can you walk?"
John nodded. "Yes, sir," he said and allowed the man to pull him to his feet. He bit his teeth against the pain and the dizziness, but he managed to stay upright, to his great satisfaction.
"Let's get you outta here and to a hospital," the man muttered. "Dean, take your brother to the Impala."
The other boy nodded and muttered a "Yes sir" before grabbing Sammy's hand and pulling him out of John's sight. He was carrying a crossbow too, John noticed with a hint of jealousy. And Sammy didn't fight at all against his grip. He meekly followed Dean, without kicking or biting.
"Let's go, John."
The man's hand rested comfortably on his shoulder and guided him out of this place of horror, away from the still smoking remnants of the clown.
"I hope you learned your lesson," he gruffly said. "Stay away from clowns and demons."
John nodded. "Yes sir," he murmured. "I will. Thank you. Sir."
The man escorted him to the coolest car John had seen in a long time and made him sit in the back with Dean and Sammy. Before that, he wrapped a bandage around his shoulder to stop the bleeding, and then he drove him to the hospital, where he made sure that John was taken care of and that the nurse contacted his father. He didn't wait for General Sheppard to show up. He just squeezed John's elbow and said, "Remember, stay away from places like that, and be a good boy now." John had nodded and said "Yes sir" once more, and then the man had disappeared from the hospital and his life.
He'd never seen them again, but he had taken his advice to heart and had stayed away from clowns ever since.
And whenever he had been in a hospital, alone, like he had been that day while waiting for his father to come pick him up or send someone to pick him up, he remembered John and Dean and especially little Sammy, and sometimes he wondered what had happened to them.
Sometimes, when he was in the infirmary in Atlantis, he wondered how they would react to see a Wraith, but then, everyone who hunted clowns with crossbows probably wouldn't react much to them.
He just knew he would never find out, unless there were clowns in the Pegasus Galaxy too.
Luckily, there weren't.
Maybe it was for the best.
The End.
Author: Kathie
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis/Supernatural
Warnings: crossover, mini tiny spoilers for SGA 404 Doppelganger, SPN 202 Everybody Loves A Clown. This is a past!fic – Mini!John and Wee!chester Sammy.
Rating: FRT-13
Word Count: 1,722
Disclaimer: Neither SGA nor SPN are mine. Figment of my imagination. But what a great imagination it can be...
Summary: Two boys are caught in a clown's labyrinth and need to escape in order to survive…
Authors Notes: Inspired by watching SGA and the amusing thought of both John Sheppard and Sam Winchester hating clowns. For Ginny. Thank you again - you know what for, right? *hugs you tight*
***
They didn't know each other, but somehow, they both had managed to slip through the almost invisible crack in the wall and ended up in this weird labyrinth, and they both ended up crouched behind a corner as soon as they figured out that the only other occupant of the labyrinth wasn't as nice as he had tried to make them believe.
The two boys looked at each other with wide eyes. The younger of the two sniffled slightly and wiped a small fist under his nose. "I want Dean," he said in a small voice.
The older one frowned slightly. "Who is Dean?" he asked before looking over his shoulder again. He was tense, as if he expected an attack every moment, his dark hair, cut very short - he had to thank his father for that one, who wanted to see his son grow up a good soldier, and that included the haircut - matted with dirt and other things he didn't exactly want to think about.
"I want Dean," the boy repeated. He looked as if he wanted to start crying every moment, and that was the last thing they both could need.
"I'm John," the older one said and kneeled down in front of him. "What's your name?"
"S-S-Sammy," the younger one whispered and sniffled again.
"Okay, Sammy." John nodded and tried to smile at him. "We have to get outta here without this...thing getting us."
Sam nodded and took a deep breath. "Yes sir," he whispered, and John wondered if Sammy's dad was in the military too, and if he was, why was Sammy allowed to have this floppy long hair and he had to have his almost shaved off?
He took Sammy's hand in his. He wouldn't leave him behind, that was for sure. No man was left behind. It was something his father had always preached, and John didn't plan on leaving Sammy behind. Sammy was only a kid. He probably wasn't older than five or so, and to John's thirteen years, that was practically a baby. He wouldn't leave him behind.
"I get you home," he promised quietly.
Sammy nodded. He had quietened down, thankfully, and he didn't offer any resistance when John started to pull him forwards, towards the exit of the maze like place they had been trapped in. They needed to get away, without getting seen by the clown. It would hunt them down and kill them; they both knew that for sure. They had seen what this thing was capable of.
John carefully looked around, and when the coast seemed clear, he grabbed Sammy's hand tighter and began running.
When Sammy's short legs couldn't keep up with him, he managed to pick him up and half-drag, half-carry him towards the safety of the exit.
They almost made it.
It was only ten or so steps to safety when suddenly, a hand in a white glove landed heavily on John's shoulder. Sammy screamed and started kicking and biting, and the shock and sudden fear was enough for John to drop the wildly struggling boy.
Sammy screamed even louder and scrambled backwards, towards safety. John wanted to follow him, but he was ripped backwards. A horrible burning pain shot through his shoulder, and he howled in surprised shock as he fell.
He landed hard, and as he struggled for breath, he slowly dragged his eyes up to look into the pasty white, mask-like face of the clown, smiling diabolically at him.
It was as if everything stopped. The only sound he could hear was the rush of blood in his own ears and his own panicked breathing as the clown slowly bent down. His gloves were ripped, revealing long, talon-like fingernails. Blood was dripping from one hand where the clown had ripped into John's shoulder.
He couldn't even yell at Sammy to get up and run, get to safety, get away - his throat was too dry and had closed up, and his teeth clattered in panic as the clown's hands came closer and closer to his face.
He was suddenly sure that he would die here, at the hands of a psychotic clown. He never had cared much for clowns, but he'd never been scared of them either. He'd always thought that he'd grow up to be a pilot, and not die here, like this. This was not honorable, he was sure of it. His father, General Sheppard, would be ashamed of him.
Again.
A loud shout interrupted the spell lying over him, and suddenly the time moved normal again. He could hear footsteps, and briefly he wondered where they came from. He and Sammy had just by accident found into this labyrinth, or maybe they'd been pulled in by something, but he was sure that nobody else had seen the secret door that led into it. But there were steps, and loud yells, and then there was the sound of a gun, and John did what his father had taught him to do and curled himself up and tried to stay as close to the ground as possible, so the enemy wouldn't hit him and he would have a chance to survive. He squeezed his eyes shut, but then he thought of Sammy and slowly he forced himself to open his eyes and look - Sammy was still a baby, and he surely didn't know what to do when someone was shooting at him, how should he, he was too young, and it was John's responsibility to make sure he was okay - but he didn't see the younger boy.
Instead he saw the silhouette of the clown. He was burning bright, shrieking and howling, the pasty color dripping off his face and revealing rotting flesh and bones, and John never wanted to see something like that again.
He crawled away as good as he could with his shoulder still bleeding. He needed to find Sammy.
John Sheppard would not leave one of his men behind. Not him.
It was his last thought before he lost consciousness.
***
"Kid?"
John blinked softly at the rough, unfamiliar voice that went with the tap against his cheek. His shoulder burned and throbbed, and he needed a moment to realize that he couldn't have been unconscious for long. He was still on his back in the dirt of the maze. A man was kneeling next to him. He had dark hair and a beard, and, how cool was that, he was holding a crossbow in his right hand. The left hand rested against John's neck now, checking for a pulse. Behind the man's shoulder, John could still see smoke rising from the clown's corpse.
He tried to sit up and hissed at the pain shooting through his whole body.
"Easy there, that thing got you pretty good," the man said and gripped his healthy shoulder to keep him upright. "You back with me, kid?"
"His name is John," Sammy said from behind the man's shoulder. He had his thumb in his mouth now, his other hand was firmly wrapped into another boy's shirt. John suspected that this boy was Dean. To his great satisfaction, he noticed that Dean had the same haircut as he had – short and easy to take care of. He seemed a few years younger than John, and he stared at him with an expression that was hard to decipher for John. It could be hate, but it could also be something else.
He didn't care. He felt too dizzy to pay much attention to it.
"John," the man nodded. "My name is John too."
John nodded shakily. "Is Sammy okay?" he asked. He almost didn't recognize his own voice. It was rough and scratchy, as if he'd talked too much, or screamed too long and too loud. He suspected that it was the second.
The man nodded. "He's fine. What about you? Can you walk?"
John nodded. "Yes, sir," he said and allowed the man to pull him to his feet. He bit his teeth against the pain and the dizziness, but he managed to stay upright, to his great satisfaction.
"Let's get you outta here and to a hospital," the man muttered. "Dean, take your brother to the Impala."
The other boy nodded and muttered a "Yes sir" before grabbing Sammy's hand and pulling him out of John's sight. He was carrying a crossbow too, John noticed with a hint of jealousy. And Sammy didn't fight at all against his grip. He meekly followed Dean, without kicking or biting.
"Let's go, John."
The man's hand rested comfortably on his shoulder and guided him out of this place of horror, away from the still smoking remnants of the clown.
"I hope you learned your lesson," he gruffly said. "Stay away from clowns and demons."
John nodded. "Yes sir," he murmured. "I will. Thank you. Sir."
The man escorted him to the coolest car John had seen in a long time and made him sit in the back with Dean and Sammy. Before that, he wrapped a bandage around his shoulder to stop the bleeding, and then he drove him to the hospital, where he made sure that John was taken care of and that the nurse contacted his father. He didn't wait for General Sheppard to show up. He just squeezed John's elbow and said, "Remember, stay away from places like that, and be a good boy now." John had nodded and said "Yes sir" once more, and then the man had disappeared from the hospital and his life.
He'd never seen them again, but he had taken his advice to heart and had stayed away from clowns ever since.
And whenever he had been in a hospital, alone, like he had been that day while waiting for his father to come pick him up or send someone to pick him up, he remembered John and Dean and especially little Sammy, and sometimes he wondered what had happened to them.
Sometimes, when he was in the infirmary in Atlantis, he wondered how they would react to see a Wraith, but then, everyone who hunted clowns with crossbows probably wouldn't react much to them.
He just knew he would never find out, unless there were clowns in the Pegasus Galaxy too.
Luckily, there weren't.
Maybe it was for the best.
The End.