YOU FLEW PRETTY GOOD
AN: Thanks for the reviews, guys! This is the end, I'm afraid. This was never supposed to be something huge, just a little break for both sides of fandoms. Hope you guys enjoyed reading this! 8D
. . .
BE MY WINGMAN, ANYTIME
In the blur of the next few days, John Sheppard barely even spared a thought for Dean and Sam Singer. He'd had to make trips from Atlantis to the Daedalusand then from there to the Hammond and back again, running interference between all three locations, aiding and abetting with missions as well as trying to keep everything under lock and key. He'd just come back from the Daedalus, just climbed through the Stargate and out into Atlantis when he noticed a humongous figure walking off in the opposite direction. The brown locks of hair looked familiar, the broad shoulder and height belonged to only one person he knew, and Sheppard once more couldn't help but ogle at just how big Sam Singer was.
"If you tell me you did not get me at least one more scientist with even an iota worth of intelligence, I will bring unspeakable pain and terror upon you, Sheppard."
Ah. Rodney. Such a great welcoming.
"No, Rodney." He answered simply, eyes still on the easily visible head of Sam Singer. "I'll talk to you later."
With that, he walked past Rodney, who seemed very insulted by his brush off, and jogged until he could catch up to the younger brother. By the time he caught up, he recognised the uniform Sam was wearing to label him as a Scientist – which really begged to differ why Rodney was still wailing about wanting more people.
"Yeah, but I get rotated around with the other groups now and then two." Sam answered when Sheppard asked, smiling politely. Dimly, Sheppard could remember reading somewhere that the greatest serial killers were the good looking ones with the innocent smiles. "Dean has to split his time between the mechanics and engineers – fixing stuff and making sure stuff is fixed. He isn't making many friends with the marines." Suspiciously, the last was said with a strange amount of happiness.
"You seem... Happy... About that, Singer." He asked slowly, watching as Sam shrugged in reply. The six foot four (five? Maybe six?) replied with something vague about gaining something out of it. Maybe a bet with the others? The people of Atlantis really liked to make bets for things, especially chocolate and coffee. But why would Dean and the marines not liking each other be of importance? "So, uh, where is he anyway? Your brother?"
Sam shrugged. "We don't really see much of each other except in passing, or when we're in our room. Usually, Dean would check up on me at least every three hours, but he's sicked Atlantis on me. She reports back to him about everything I do. And feel." Sam didn't seem too pleased about that. Before Sheppard could make a comment on it (and since when did Atlantis have a new favourite?), a commotion happening in the 302 bay caught his attention. Next to him, Sam turns out to have noticed too, and with a shared look, the two move towards the bay to see what the fuss is all about.
There's a circle of people, all with their guns out, aimed at a man with hair similar to Sam but honey coloured, way shorter in height and wearing bloodied casual clothes but grinning to himself as he bit into a red candy cane. The stranger was standing next to a 302, leaning on it without a care in the world – except to someone like Sheppard, it was obvious he was favouring that side, probably due to a few broken ribs. Sam, being the tall man that he is, can probably see a whole lot more then Sheppard can, but Sheppard's watching Sam's face, and he can see the look of recognition and surprise light up on the younger man's face.
Pushing themselves forward through the crowd, they were surprised to see Rodney waving his arms madly at the man and shouting at the top of his lungs.
"-think you are, appearing out of nowhere while I'm attempting to test a new theory that could help us not get eaten by the Wraith!"
The stranger shrugged, biting into his candy again and looking around. His eyes landed on something too far for John to see, but whatever it was, the amber eyes lighted up and the face broke out into a wider grin. "Deano!" The stranger shouted, waving one of his hands wildly in the direction. "Deeeaaaannnn!"
A crash, a curse, and a few moments later the very named man came running as if hell hounds were on his ass, coming to a stop right before the stranger, holding tightly onto a wrench in his hands. "Gabriel..." Dean said slowly, raising the tool high. He faltered though, probably spotted the blood, and lowered what could have been a weapon. "Dude, what the hell happened to you?"
The named Gabriel looked around again instead, standing on his tiptoes until he spotted Sam. "Sammy boy! Come here, come here. Aren't you going to say hi to your favourite angel?"
Angel? John watched, curious but also seriously worried if Atlantis was being compromised by the constant flow of strangers, his own gun out and pointed at the man as Sam pushed through the last stragglers and went to stand next to his brother, looming over the two. "Seriously, Gabriel, are you OK?"
"Aaaw," the shortest of the three cooed. "Are the Winchester's worried about wittle old me? Naah, don't worry about it." He waved their concern off, biting again into his candy. "Lucy was really sad he couldn't say hi, though."
Dean winced, shifting his weight onto another foot, while Sam looked like he accidentally stepped on his own fish. "Gabe-"
The stranger snorted at their expressions, interrupting the younger brother, waving his hand dismissively again. "Come on, boys, don't act so surprised. You wanted me to fight him anyway, right? Yeah well, I would've died. Now? I'm just a little banged up, but nothing a few hours on a bed with Magic Fingers won't fix. Turns out, my bright idea of keeping you boys away until Lucy's time ran out wasn't so welcomed." He snorted again, looking fondly reminiscent. "I haven't had my ass kicked so bad since I was three."
"Three?" Dean said slowly. "Centuries or...?"
Another snort, followed with the loud snap of another piece of candy being broken. John was completely lost in the meaning of the conversation. "Dude, I lost count before you guys were even made. Anyway, the only chance you boys got of stopping mean ol' Lucifer is by getting the Four Horsemen's rings."
Sam looked around awkwardly, seeing Sheppard, Rodney and everybody else listening to them shamelessly. "We should... Go somewhere private."
The man named Gabriel didn't seem bothered by it, though, snapping at his candy one more time before it finally disappeared into his mouth. "Naaw," He mumbled, chewing at the sweet. "It's 'kay, they cool. They won't do anything – fixed up their friend Thor with a place." At the brothers confused looks, Gabriel huffed in amusement. "What? You think gods and stuff just carry on existing even though people don't believe in them anymore? The originals died with the fall of the Vikings and Ragnarok and dude was that awkward. These new ones are aliens, though. Little... Round headed... Aliens. The others hate them with a passion."
Sam looked to Dean beseechingly, but the older brother just shrugged and turned back to Gabriel. "By the Horsemen, you don't mean-"
"-War, Famine, Pestilience and Death? Yup. Hey, you've been reading the Bible lately?"
"Great." Dean finished. "Fine then, come on, let's go. Click your fingers and take us home, Alice." He paused, looked around as if finally noticing everyone, and frowned. "Dude, do the mind wipe thing too. Y'know, like Men in Black."
Sam made an irritated face, ignoring at Gabriel's laugh. "We are not just leaving. Dean, these people need help. What do you mean by Lucifer's time running out, Gabriel?"
"Lucy's out-a the box. Lucy needs to get his true vessel in a certain amount of time before the box pulls him back of it's own accord. It's why he's been pervin' on your dreams. Totally not because he's got the hots for your luscious hair."
"So why can't we just stay here until it finishes?" Sam pressed, looking determined. "These guys are fighting aliens. In Atlantis. I've only just gotten halfway through the Ancients logs."
Gabriel shrugged uncaring. "If you wanna stay here while Lucifer hunts everybody you ever met or saved from a monster, then fine, be my guest. What's a few souls for the greater good, right? Coulda sworn he mentioned going to South Dakota as his first stop, or something."
Dean gave his brother a pointed look, but Sam still had something else to say. "Fine, OK, we'll go. But you're not just going to snap your fingers and make us disappear without at least being polite and saying goodbye." With that, the taller brother turned around to face the watching audience, and his face crumbled into a young boy being forced to say goodbye to his favourite puppy. Dean shuffled around next to his brother awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his head, scowling, before taking the mantle and stepping forward to a watching Ronon (John was surprised to say he'd been too invested in the confusing conversation to notice his buddy).
"Uh, so." Dean started, eyes going from Ronon to his gun. "Take care of that awesome gun, dude. It looks like one of a kind. You don't have a spare one I could borrow, do ya?" The Runner just raised a single eyebrow at him, Teal'c-style, and held out his hand. Dean took it, the two shaking their hands firmly, as Sam engaged in a conversation with a dangerously curious Rodney. The stranger – called Gabriel, who apparently got his ass beaten by a Lucifer, and let's not mention the whole Apocalypse, Four Horsemen, Bible references and angels at all – somehow had another candy in his hands, this time something that looked like black liquorice. John watched as Dean gave Teyla a flirtatious wink, the tanned woman smiling back and holding her hand out to shake too, just as Rodney gave a loud "But!" and Sam launched into a whole new tirade of explanation that made little sense to the Colonel.
By the time Dean was in front of him looking incredibly awkward, John had overheard enough of Sam and Rodney's argumentative discussion to know the two brothers really thought they were leaving, right now, and apparently Earth was in trouble and they were trying to help it. There was much talk of Biblical things, Sam giving an apocalyptic reason for most of the strange events happening on Earth – like that explosion in Maryland ("that's when the devil first broke out"). John raised both eyebrows at Dean, who shrugged and stuck out his hand.
Shaking his head in wonder – and deciding to screw protocol and just play along with obviously deranged non-stable people – John clapped Dean on the shoulders and took his hand. "Anytime you feel like popping in on a Jumper unannounced, feel free." Dean grinned at him, losing bits of awkwardness at the jab. "I'm serious, kid. You can be my wingman, any time." Playful indignation settled on the other's face as Sheppard carried on quietly. "Even if you are scared crapless of flying."
Dean's indignant spluttering was absolutely music to his ears, even as the man named Gabriel burst into guffaws. The latter held up a free hand, poised in the way one would click his fingers, and in the next blink of his eyes, just as a snap of fingers could be heard, John saw no more Sam with a sad smile, no more Dean trying to come up with something clever to say, and no more laughing Gabriel.
They'd really disappeared.
Rodney immediately burst out into how it wasn't theoretically possible, scoffing at the thought of accepting whatever Sam had been telling him. John just blinked again, rubbing at his eyes as he finally put away his Zat, still seeing the space in front of him empty save for the 302 Gabriel had been leaning on, then turned to face Ronon and Teyla. The two seemed to have no problem with what just happened, Zelenka and Beckett – who'd both apparently had been in the background – seemed unable to keep their mouth closed.
"I dinna believe it." The Scotsman finally breathed out. "I'll be damned."
Zelenka said something in his native tongue that sounded oddly blasphemous – and John almost wanted to laugh hysterically at the particularly wording his brain came up with, looking back at the empty space.
"Hey, Ronon? Teyla? Do your people believe in angels?" He heard himself ask, still staring at the spot.
"My people believe in an ultimate, greater power, and his warriors." Teyla answered back.
Ronon just smiled, a quirk of his lips, and looked down at his gun once before resting his eyes on Sheppard. "Does it really matter? You've just witnessed three men disappear with a click of a finger. Is that not proof enough?"
John hoped not, because then he'd have to report a whole lot more then the Singer's (Winchester's?) no longer being around. The apocalypse? Hell, he'd probably be forced to speak to O'Neill.
"Alright guys." He finally said, raising his voice to be heard. "Everybody, get back to your work. Show's over. We've still got our own problems to deal with, ladies and gentlemen. Get back to your stations." And John would get back to his.
Right after clicking his own fingers and imagining Dave's apartment. Nope. Still on Atlantis. Yup, now he'd go back to work.