The Mother of all Crossovers

This basically means that I have taken all my favourite characters from various shows and put them all in one place for the sole purpose of an experiment, I mean, I do have a thing for the sarcastic, trouble prone characters, so the idea of so many of them in one place? Well. Like I said, consider it an experiment.

Now, my favourite characters are normally the one's who, in fanfictions, end up in all manner of things and end up hurt all the time (not that I'm complaining) but I'm going to try for something a little different. They might seem a little OOC, but unfortunately I don't own a DVD of every single show I'm writing about, so I can't cross reference the character traits.

Summary: Seven similar, yet dissimilar men wake up in a strange place and as it turns out, a strange time as well. Now these men must find a way to work together, pool their resources, and figure out how to get back to their respective times, families and friends, all the while trying to dodge some bad guys.

Warning: Yes, this is going to be a crap story, I am doing it for my own amusement and for anyone else who shares my sense of amusement. Lol. Very confusing, and absolutely unlike any crossover you have ever before read. This only contains the characters I have mentioned below, anyone else and my head will explode, so don't expect the rest of the Mag7 team to show up, or Fraser, or Napoleon Solo, or Jim etc. etc.

Also, I do not know all the characters ages, so I'm making most of them up, they're what I think they should be, so sorry if that annoys anyone.

Crossovers: Magnificent 7 (Ezra—obviously); Man from UNCLE (Illya—no brainer there); The A-Team (Murdock—what can I say huh?); Due South (Ray—Kowalski that is); The Sentinel (Let's see now… hmm… Blair); Diagnosis Murder (Jesse—duh!); Supernatural (Dean—tough guys get me all the time).

Part 1: Introducing the Players

Ezra

Ezra Standish woke with a start, not really unusual for him, he had always woken quickly, it paid to have that ability when one was so rudely awakened by disgruntled marks who wanted their money back, or, failing that, his life. But it had been quite a while since he had felt in anyway… unsafe… enough to wake so quickly from a deep sleep.

Four Corners had spoiled him.

He realised, therefore, in the split-second after he had awoken that he was not, in fact, in four corners at all. That was the only reason his body was tense, if any of his companions had been anywhere around he would have subconsciously realised and know there was no need for such a speedy return to awareness.

Now that he had sorted that out he pushed himself into a sitting position and looked around him, frowning when all he found were stone grey coloured walls that were not, despite what the name described, made of stone. The room appeared to be empty, so with no immediate danger imminent he reached out and touched it, surprised by the smooth feel of it. It felt like metal, the same kind used to make the trains with, with bolts to hold them fixed together and everything.

Getting his feet was a simple process, and he marvelled that he didn't seem to be on anything that moved. So, wherever it was he was, it was stationary. He racked his brains to try and come up with some memory of any building made of metal like this, but drew a blank.

He cast his eyes about once more, frowning when he realised they actually wasn't a lot in this room at all, a bunk, nothing like his own bed at the saloon, narrow and made of metal, and it looked very uncomfortable, the mattress barely thick enough to provide a decent nights sleep.

And yet he hadn't noticed when he'd been laying on it.

There was also a desk and a chair, also made from metal, with a sheaf of papers stacked neatly to one side, a pen sitting ready for use on top of it. There was no window, which made finding out his location impossible from within this room. There was a tall, thin box built into the wall at the end of the bunk that looked like it could possibly be a wardrobe of some kind.

Which reminded him, he needed to dress, he hardly thought that walking around in his sleeping shirt appropriate. Heaven forbid should a lady walk in on him. After he found some clothes he would try and figure out where he was. He made his way to the tall metal box and pulled on the handle, pleasantly surprised when it opened and nothing jumped out and tried to kill him. Inside were some sort of garments, but nothing like he had ever seen before.

He frowned and pulled one of them out and looked at it with a raised eyebrow. It looked suspiciously like a uniform, trousers, a shirt and a jacket with some sort of insignia he couldn't quite place. Was he in a prison perhaps?

That thought did not bode well for him if it were true, he and his companions had put more than a few outlaws in prison, he doubted they would be glad to see him. But as he had nothing else to wear he supposed it would have to do. He quickly changed out of his sleeping shirt and into the grey and black uniform. He was genuinely surprised to find it fit him perfectly, and though he had no mirror to check, he had the feeling it flattered him immensely. There were even ruffles like those of his other shirts at his sleeves.

It was like they had been tailor made to fit him and his personality, while at the same time, conforming to a set uniform.

He glanced round once again in a vain hope to find his weapons, but saw none. Well, he supposed where he was, and whoever had him, would hardly just give him anything he could use in an escape attempt. With a sigh he made his way to the door, or what he thought was a door, but one without a door handle apparently. Studying it for a long moment he discovered a small panel barely big enough for his thumb.

Ah! He pressed his thumb to the panel, marvelling when the door slide open. He really needed to find out who ran this place, and who had built it. Such advances could surely be worth a fortune!

His mind partially occupied with finding a way to use this experience to make money, Ezra moved into the hallway, alert for anything that could harm him, but the hallway was empty. He moved further out of the room, jumping and turning back when the door slid shut behind him.

There in emblazoned silver letters was his name.

This was becoming increasingly strange.

Illya

Illya Nicovech Kuryakin was very much confused, and he didn't like it one bit. He knew had Napoleon been here there would be an attempt at American humour, and the possibility of their being abducted by aliens. Because there hardly seemed any other plausible explanation. If this had been the work of Thrush he would most likely have been chained, or bound, and left hanging over a shark infested bathtub, or any other of the inane plots Thrush devised to get rid of him.

So, it wasn't Thrush, because there was no feeling of drugs in his system, there was no sight of ropes or chains. That left very little for Illya to go on. He did, in fact, feel very well rested.

The room itself was bland, grey metal walls, a single bed, desk, chair and a locker with some very strange clothes in it. Uniforms he had quickly discovered, grey and black, with an insignia he couldn't quite recognise. It was much like his comfortable slacks and turtleneck, but with definite lines that showed it to be an actual uniform.

He was without his weapons, which did not bode well, he knew this from experience. But it was nothing he could not overcome. He had of course been in such situations before. Though granted he was normally informed of where and why he was in a particular place.

Getting to his feet and tugging a little on the clothes, they were not made of any material he knew, and when he got back to his lab he would have to run a thorough analysis on it to see what it was made of. But, for the moment he would have to concentrate on his escape.

He made his way to the door, noting the fact there was no handle idly, well used to such things by now. Thrush was under the impression that by having no door handles on the side of the prisoners ensured they could not get out. One would think they would have gotten over that notion with the amount of times he and Solo had pulled a miraculous escape from their holding cells.

So the lack of a door handle did not phase Illya in the slightest, but he was a little surprised, as well as a little suspicious , to find the little panel by the door, obviously a finger print recognition panel.

His body tensed for any traps he may set off he pressed his thumb to the panel.

The door slid open, not wholly unexpected, but the lack of an enemy presence was. With a frown etched into his handsome features Illya stepped out into the hallway, glancing back at the door as it hissed shut behind him, his frown deepening when he found his name on the door in silver letters.

This was all very suspicious.

Murdock

Now, when HM Murdock awoke in a strange place, in a strange bed in a strange room filled with strange things, when he was fairly certain he had fallen asleep in his own bed in his own room in the VA; things got a little confusing. But Murdock was a man who was used to the world being confusing, so he took it in his stride.

He got up, explored the small room with great interest, muttering merrily to himself as he did so, for the benefit of Billy, who was curled up at the end of the small bed watching him carefully. Murdock knew the dog was a little disconcerted being in this new place so suddenly.

He enjoyed the clothes immensely, though he couldn't find his favourite jacket at all, which gave him pause for a long moment, before he decided that playing dress up wouldn't be so bad. When he had donned the uniform, grey and black and with an insignia that made him think of Star Trek.

He was pleased to see that the uniform came with a cap much like his own back at the VA, a little tatty and comfortable. He pulled it on. Now. What to do, what to do. Exploring was always a good option; after all, it wouldn't be polite to make the aliens come to him.

With a grin Murdock bounced over to the door, not bothering to call Billy, knowing the dog would be right behind him as he always was. With barely repressed glee he pressed his thumb to the door and grinned as it whooshed open. There was something to be said for being abducted by aliens (because for Murdock that was exactly what had occurred), everything was very cool.

It would make a great story to tell the guys when he got back. BA probably wouldn't believe him, call him a 'crazy fool' like always, but Hannibal would grin, and Face would think it was interesting. Yes, it would make a very interesting story indeed.

Stepping into the hall he looked around, trying to work out which would be the best way to go, wondering what the aliens would look like, if they would do experiments on him. Turning back to check on Billy (to be sure the door hadn't closed on his tail) he was reduced to grinning madly when he saw his name on the door, written in silver.

With hardly another thought he chose left and practically skipped up the hallway and towards whatever interesting alien type things that were likely to be waiting for him.

Ray

It took Ray a little while to realise he wasn't in Kansas any more, or at the very least, Chicago. He blamed it entirely on his slightly blurry vision, made so by sleep and the absence of his glasses. But when he did realise he moved in a flurry of activity. Surging to his feet, and looking round.

He wasn't panicked, not at all, but he somehow doubted that this had anything to do with Fraser. Fraser was unhinged and a freak, yes, but he only ever did crazy stuff with Ray when he was awake.

So, if this wasn't Fraser's doing, then what had happened?

His glasses lay on the little desk in the room, innocently looking at him, and he glared at them, as if they somehow had something to do with this mess he was in.

Finally coming to the conclusion that the glasses weren't the root of all evil, he figured maybe he needed to do something pro-active. What that could be was anyone's guess, but he figured he should be anyway.

So, that meant getting out of the room and finding whoever was responsible for him waking up in this drab little room, and kicking them in the head. It didn't take long to figure out how the door worked, it was absurdly simple really. He readied himself to take out any guards at the door, if the door opened that was.

It did, and there were none, which disappointed him really.

It wasn't until he was about to step out that he realised he was still dressed in the t-shit he had fallen asleep in. he turned back and looked until he found a locker. Going to it and opening it he let out a sign. A uniform? He'd gotten out of uniforms years ago! But it was all he had.

He dressed; surprised that it wasn't like his old police uniform, the black and grey lines and cut made it a uniform, as did the little badge on it, but it felt more like his own clothes, but… not.

Great, now he wasn't making any sense!

Dressed now he returned to the door and opened it again. Stepping into the hallway he check marked off 'Getting out of the room' and moved onto 'finding out who was responsible'. But he was really looking forward to the third thing on his list 'Kick them in the head'.

Blair

The room was about the same size, he'd give them that, and it did have a desk and a cupboard of sorts in it, but his walls were definitely not made of metal, because metal would just have annoyed Jim in some way. Blair Sandburg knew that. So why was he in a metal room?

He stared at the ceiling, lost in thought as he considered all the possibilities.

Ever since joining Jim and helping his with the whole sentinel thing, he had happened upon a lot of weird things, but this? Well, this was going a little beyond weird. Now, thinking back logically put Blair in the loft, with Jim, Jim going to bed, him going to bed. So if he was fairly sure he'd gone to bed in the loft, and Jim had been there, so there was no way anyone could have kidnapped him without Jim realising and foiling any such plans, then how on earth did he end up here. In a metal room no less.

Ok, first things first, he wasn't going to find out anything laying on the bed and staring at the roof. Swinging his legs out of the bed he got up, looking around the room for any camera's or the like, not that he was shy about his body or anything, he happened to think he had a very nice body, but he'd rather not give any kidnappers an eyeful.

Finding no sign of a camera of any kind he pushed the blanket back. He was clad only in the boxers he had fallen asleep in. He made his way to the cupboard, which now that he looked at it closely resembled more of a high school locker than a piece of furniture. He pulled out the only clothes inside the locker and was vaguely horrified by just how uniform like it was.

He could do this. He was an anthropologist, he had donned the dress codes of many different cultures, he could handle wearing a uniform. He pulled it on hastily, surprised when he realised it was loose, not at all as tight fitting as he had assumed it would be. The jacket hung on him, unbuttoned, a lot like the shirts he normally wore over his t-shirts back home.

This was good, he could handle that.

He made his way to the desk next, and the bundle of papers that were strewn across it, he picked one up and frowned when he realised it was blank; shifting through the pages he could see they were all blank. Strange.

He went to the door, studying it closely he found a little panel. Great, it was like he'd stepped onto some space movie set or something. He pressed a finger to the panel, knowing it was normally the thumbs that were used in films, but being different on purpose.

To his surprise the door slid open revealing a rather drab metal corridor. Almost like a military base… Oh, that was a bad thought. He didn't want anything to do with the military. Never mind that, what would the military want with him?

Peeking round the door way so he could see if there were any military personnel around, he mentally braced himself, he didn't like dealing with gun ho types (Jim Ellison notwithstanding). When he saw no one he breathed a little easier.

Stepping into the hallway he formed a plan. First thing's first, he needed to find Jim, because Jim wouldn't have allowed anyone to just take him, which meant that Jim was also here, obliviously. So he had to find him, and probably rescue him because he'd probably zoned by now.

Now that he had a plan Blair strode out purposefully. What was that saying in all the spy shows? Act like you own the place and no one will ask you any questions? Blair wasn't sure, but he figured he could probably make it work.

Jesse

Jesse Travis squeezed his eyes shut and counted to ten very slowly, hoping that when he opened his eyes he would be back in Community General, waking up from the short nap he had laid down to take not ten minutes ago in the doctors lounge. Because he had already gone through the whole 'abducted by aliens' thing, and he really didn't want to go through it again, he really, really didn't!

Reaching ten he opened his eyes again, only to be greeted by plain grey steel walls. Taking a deep breath Jesse calmed himself, forcing himself to think about this rationally. Ok. It wasn't aliens, because they most certainly didn't exist. Which made this a dream, a stress induced dream. His body's way of telling him to take some vacation time.

Ok, so if this was a dream, that also meant he could go with the flow. Because there was no other explanation, or at least none he was willing to consider right now. His mind somewhat settled, and unwilling to think too much about it in case this wasn't a dream, he got to his feet, happy to find himself still in his own clothes. A quick look in the locker (much like those at the hospital) showed two other white coats and slack and shirts. Ok, normal enough, except that the shirts were grey and had an insignia on them that he'd never seen before in his life.

But that was ok. Because this was just a dream, so he could deal with a little weirdness.

There wasn't much of anything in the room, which only left the door, a quick study showed him the little thumb finger print panel thing, which he pressed without too much reservation, he could wake up if anything really bad happened, so it was fine. He stepped out into the metal corridor and looked around, wondering what on earth this place was.

His natural curiosity kicked in about then and his enthusiasm quelled any unease left inside him that this wasn't a dream, and he started down the corridor, too intent on exploring to notice his name on the door of his room as it slid shut again.

Dean

Dean Winchester was a lot of things; an idiot was not among them. He had seen a lot of things, done a lot of things, killed a lot of things. But right now Dean was one very confused individual, and because of that he was beginning to feel like an idiot. Because he was certain he should know exactly where he was, and exactly where his little brother was.

As it stood he didn't know.

He had jerked awake suddenly about five minutes ago, and upon not finding a demon standing over him, or having his knife in his hand, or anywhere under his pillow, and with no sign of Sammy at all, he got confused. And Dean Winchester did not like being confused.

He had dressed soon after, because it was the smart thing to do, the clothes weren't his, but he had worn worse, and at least they had his trademark wear and tear so they didn't feel too bad, his search for his weapons was fruitless. The room was tiny and there was nowhere for them to be hidden out of view.

Dean didn't like that; he didn't like it at all.

It left him without protection, which he had never liked. But there wasn't a lot he could do about it right now. First thing he had to do was get out of this room, find his guns and Sammy and get the hell out of dodge, or wherever this creepy place was.

He just hoped he didn't run into a demon before he'd found himself a gun.

Muttering to himself he went to the door, frowned as he pressed his thumb to the little panel. He looked out warily, searching for any sign of a demon, or a ghost, or anything supernatural at all. Finding nothing he stepped out. Seeing his name in the door as it closed behind him was confusing, someone or something had gone to an awful lot of trouble here.

He set off down the corridor, dead set on finding out just what the hell was going on here!