Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate. I don't know Supernatural. Duh.
Author's Note: This is set in season two of Supernatural, and season nine of Stargate SG1.
Not Your Kind of Trouble
Chapter 1: Found
Cassandra Frasier sat at the small sticky table, stirring her coffee and waiting on her last hope.
He was late, but she could probably afford to be patient. She'd taken her temperature that morning, and there were still no signs of fever. It couldn't be the Mind-fire again. It couldn't be.
Yeah, Right, she thought, something else caused every monitor in the student computer labs to explode. It was just a coincidence that it happened right after the one she was using swallowed up her term paper an hour before it was due. There had to be some other explanation for the weird snapping feeling inside her head as everything started to smoke and spark.
Normally she wasn't a drama queen, but the paper was half her grade, and the professor had said no extensions. She hadn't meant to freak out, but she didn't try not to. She didn't think there would be consequences besides her own embarrassment. And then glass was flying everywhere.
It could've been worse. No one else got hurt. They'd all been smart enough to run when their monitors started to smoke. She wasn't hit in the eye at least, and her professor had granted her an extension after she got the paramedic to walk with her to class and bear witness to the explosion. Having blood soaked bandages on her arm and face didn't hurt her cause.
She'd tried to call Sam about it, but the relay officer in Colorado told her Colonel Samantha Carter was on a mission and out of communication, which meant off world. The same went for Daniel Jackson and Teal'c. She tried to call Jack O'Neill, but couldn't get through. He was somewhere on earth, but he was in some kind of fate-of-the-world meeting.
She knew Jack would do whatever he could to help her, but he had whole world problems to worry about. The secretary promised to pass on Cassandra's message to General O'Neill. But Cassandra had left the message vague. She wanted to talk to someone, she didn't want to be dragged back to the lab, especially since everyone she really knew there was gone. Since her adopted mother's death she hadn't kept in contact with the medical personnel, and she didn't like being poked at by strangers.
She also knew if she went to the lab, they'd find something.
She knew because the day after the computers blew up, her cell phone fried, and her roommate's microwave, and then the entire electronic card key system for the dormitory.
There were police walking around the campus now, investigating. For now it was just local cops, who seemed to think it was some dumb prankster giving them an excuse to look at college girls whose mothers' weren't around to make them dress decently. But if she didn't get this under control, the SGC was going to notice sooner or later. Hopefully before the N.I.D. did if it came to that.
She'd borrowed a few dozen heavy magnets from the physics lab and spent every minute of privacy she could spinning them to use up the charge she'd built up. She considered spinning one under the table but decided it was too much of a risk in the coffee shop.
She lifted her arm to check her watch. She'd bought it that morning because she didn't have time to get a new cell phone. She was rather glad she hadn't spent the money. The watch was dead.
I'm not going to make it, she though, putting her head down on the table.
She was already getting behind on her homework. She didn't know how she could finish any of her assignments if she couldn't get near a computer. Maybe she could get someone to write her a doctor's note, or break her arms or something, something to keep her from flunking out of school so she didn't lose her scholarship. She knew it was stupid to worry about grades when she was turning into a human radio transmitter, but she did. She wanted to be normal. She heard the café door open and looked up hopefully.
A big guy walked in. He looked maybe college age, but he also looked like he should be walking into a run-down bar, not the Java Bean Boutique. He had on a worn over sized leather jacket, jeans and biker boots. He was clean shaven but his short spiky hair didn't scream professional, nor did the ancient walkman he was carrying.
The biker boy flirted with the cashier as he bought a couple of coffees, and managed to get a free cookie and a napkin with a phone number written on it. He walked all around the coffee shop before picking a table right next to hers. He smiled at her and nodded. She did her best impression of Teal'c, raising an eyebrow and watching silently until, hopefully, he looked away.
No such luck.
"You waitin' for someone?" he asked.
"Yes," Cassandra said.
"Boyfriend?" he asked.
She said "yes" again hoping to shut down further questions, but that didn't work either. He started going on about the school, and how he was thinking of transferring from Junior College and what did she think of the dorms. He just went on and on. She tried to keep her responses to an absolute minimum and considered pretending she couldn't speak English. She was pretty much tuning him out until his last question cut through.
"Hey, you were in that computer lab that blew up, weren't you?" he asked.
"No, I wasn't," she answered automatically.
"You weren't?" the biker boy said. He looked at her suspiciously, probably noticing the cuts on her face.
"I've never been in a computer lab," Cassandra said. "I'm Amish."
"You're Amish?" the biker boy asked.
"Yep," she said. It was even sort of true. Her family had lived in a village where levers and looms were the highest technology. It was not that her people didn't like technology. It was just that their "Goddess" Nirrti forbid them from developing it.
"I thought Amish people couldn't drink coffee or wear watches or have anything that wasn't in the Bible," the biker boy said. "Jesu Cristo, and all that."
He was grinning even as he argued, but his eyes were making her nervous. She felt like they were having an entire second conversation right under the first.
"All that stuff is in the Bible," Cassandra said.
She wondered if she should just make a run for it. If this guy was working with some spy organization they might have more goons and a van waiting outside. Then again he could be stalling her and waiting for back up.
"What part of the Bible mentions coffee?" the biker boy asked.
"It's on page 758," she said. "Why don't you go look it up? There's a great book store about a mile that way. How about you start walking?"
"But I'm having such a good time here," he said.
She considered throwing her coffee in his face, but it had gotten cold, so that wouldn't give her much of a head start. She looked toward the front door, willing her contact to walk through. The door swung open. Her hopes were dashed again.
It was a giant in a polo shirt. He had kind of shaggy hair and was carrying a laptop. He might have been a student, but Cassandra had a bad feeling about him too. He looked like a student, but he walked like a soldier.
The guy looked around the room and his gaze settled on the biker boy. Polo giant looked from the biker boy to her and back again. She thought she saw biker boy nod from the corner of her eye.
Should I run for it? She wondered again. If she did it would be hard for her to find her contact again. She didn't want to risk going back to her dorm. She'd have to find a pay phone and hope she didn't fry it, so she could set up another meeting. A shadow fell over her.
In her moment of distraction the giant had moved. He was standing over her table looking down at her. She realized he must've said something.
"Sorry, what?" she asked.
"I was wondering if I could snag this chair?" he asked, pointing to the other seat at her table.
"Sure," Cassandra said. "Have them both."
She got up, abandoning her cold coffee on the table. She bumped another table on her way to the door, knocking a girl's chemistry flash cards to the floor. She bent to pick them up but the giant in the polo shirt called after her. She shouted sorry at the girl and ran for the door. She heard chairs sliding, heard people getting up and yelling. The lights started to flicker.
The door bounced off the outside of the building as she stumbled onto the sidewalk. The neon sign on the store front exploded. People dodged the flying glass and sparks. She heard feet pounding on the pavement behind her. She sprinted for all she was worth.
Author's Note: Yeah, I know. I have the attention span of a goldfish. So here's a crossover that got stuck in my head. I don't think it will go much more than 40,000 words. And yes I am still working on my other stories. If you leave a review, please leave a review for this story. Thanks for reading.