Fic Post: "Leapin' Lizards" (4/4)
Oct. 30th, 2007 09:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gwendolyngraceTitle: Leapin’ Lizards (4/4)
Author: Gwendolyn Grace (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
gwendolyngrace)
Rating: PG
Characters: Sam Winchester (age 8), Dean Winchester (age 12), Dr. Sam Beckett, Adm. Al Calavicci, OFC.
Pairings: None
Genre: Gen (Quantum Leap / Supernatural Crossover)
Wordcount: 18,560 give or take
Summary: Happy Birthday,ficwriter1966! This is set sometime within the first year or so of Project Quantum Leap (because the first season of QL is the only one I have on DVD currently!). The Leap Date is July 8, 1991. Dr. Sam Beckett Leaps in to save a life, which is not unusual…what’s unusual is that he’s saving it from an angry spirit.
Author’s Notes: About a month after venturing hardcore into the SPN fandom, I got to reading some fics byficwriter1966. I have tremendous respect for her interpretations, and shortly after beginning to comment on and friending her journal, she answered some questions about writing for TV and being a published author. She revealed that she wrote two of the Quantum Leap tie-in novels. And thus this idea was spawned. I feel a little like I’m putting my head in the lion’s mouth—only because she knows the QL-verse much better than I! I’ve spent the last few months surfing QL sites, trying to jumpstart my memories of the show, and borrowing my mother’s Season 1 DVD set (Season One feels way short!). At the time I thought it would be easy to get this written before her birthday; boy, did I underestimate the rate of plot bunny attack in this fandom! Also other commitments, getting into a show…etc. But here it is, and it’s dedicated to Carol.
Crossover Note: As with most of my crossovers, if you are minimally familiar with either fandom, you will be able to enjoy the fic without needing too much knowledge of the other fandom used herein.
Researcher’s Note: The July 11 eclipse, Minnewaukan, Devil’s Lake, the reservation, the drainage project, and the National Guard training facility are all real. The MotW is not. I don’t speak Lakota; I cobbled together some vocabulary found online to create the name of the creature.
Disclaimer: Quantum Leap was created by Don Bellisario and is owned by NBC TV. Supernatural was created by Eric Kripke and is owned by WB / CWTV. I was created by a rare act of silliness on my parents’ part and am (entirely) owned by my obsessions.
Chapter Three
“Stakeouts are fun,” Dean announced when Sam told them they were going to the cemetery. Four hours later, Dean agreed with Sammy. “This is boring. When do we get to hunt the monster?”
“With any luck, you don’t,” Sam said over his shoulder. He longed to get out of the car himself, stretch his legs, even just stand up for a bit. He had settled for putting his feet up on the passenger seat, while Sammy and Dean shared the back.
“Maybe we should take a walk over there,” Sammy suggested. “See what the terrain is like. Dad doesn’t like to hunt if he doesn’t know what the terrain will be like.”
“Good idea, Sammy,” Dean said immediately. It was a mark of how bored he really was that he neither put down nor tried to counter Sammy’s recommendation. “You can stay here and watch the entrance, and Sammy and I can take a run around the path. There’s nothing suspicious about two kids going for a run, is there?”
Sam wanted to protest. He could see the caution tape looped around stakes at one of the sink hole sites, the most recent one, from the look of the tape. “The ground may be dangerous,” he pointed out.
“Well, we’re lighter than you are,” Sammy said tactlessly. “Not that Dad’s fat, because he’s not,” he added hastily. “But we’re littler.”
“Sammy’s right. We’re less likely to fall in.”
Sam considered this. “That’s true,” he admitted. “But I’m not taking chances with kids’ lives. Tell you what. Stick to the road through the cemetery—no going off on the grass. Once around, walking, and then come back. Tell me what you see.”
They opened the doors almost before he had finished speaking. Sam sat back to resume his vigil, alternating now between the boys’ progress and the main entrance. Lara Davis still hadn’t put in an appearance.
As if letting the boys go had been a summons, a silver Accord pulled through the gate about two minutes later. Sam held up his binoculars to see the driver. “Bingo,” he breathed. Lara Davis drove in and turned left, away from the direction the boys had gone. Sam struggled to get his legs back into the foot well so that he could climb out of the Impala.
On foot, he followed the leftward path. The red glint of the setting sun reflected off the silver trunk, making the car easy to spot in the fading light. Davis parked near a section that had been posted with signs. “Danger,” they said, and, “Please do not walk on grass.” She got out of her car with a canvas bag and went around to the trunk of the car.
Sam caught up with her fast. “Sergeant Davis?” he called, adopting a “Fancy meeting you here” sort of surprise. “I was hoping I’d see you again, but not quite like this,” he said as he walked over.
Davis jumped and dropped her bag on the asphalt.
“Sorry,” Sam said. “I seem to keep making you lose hold of things.” He bent over to pick up the bag before she could. It was heavy, and a stain was forming on the bottom. “I uh, think you broke something,” he said, as the wet stain spread. He jiggled the bag and heard glass. “God, I’m so sorry….”
But the look on her face made him stop apologizing. “Oh, gods,” she said, trembling. “Give it to me, quick!”
He handed over the bag and she turned away from him to open it on the ground. She covered the opening with her body, but Sam could see from his vantage something that looked like a dead animal, and not glass, but broken shards of a clay pot. And the wet substance inside surely wasn’t blood, but it looked more like…
“Milk?” he asked.
“Fresh goat’s milk, yes,” she muttered. She tossed the bag as far into the grass as she could. “You shouldn’t have come here,” she told him. “Get in the car!”
Sam was about to argue, but at that moment he felt a tremor near the edge of the road. “What did you do?” he demanded.
“What did I do?” she said. “You startled me. I broke the talisman. Now I can’t contain it to get rid of it. Get in the car!” She ducked inside and turned the ignition.
Sam felt the rumble increase. He moved quickly to the passenger side and climbed in just as Davis was slamming the car into gear. Before he even shut the door, she was gunning it.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he said as she turned around in a circle built in to the pathway, “but aren’t we a little heavy for unstable ground?”
“Not if we get out of the way fast enough,” Davis said. “Shut up now, please; driving.”
Sam shut up and let her burst through the cemetery. As they drove past the center ring, he saw Dean and Sammy running to follow.
“Wait!” he yelled. “There’re kids out there!”
Davis screeched the brakes and the boys reached the car. Sam waved at them frantically. “Get in! Get in!” he ordered. They clambered into the back seat and Davis took off again, laying down rubber in her haste.
She didn’t stop when she passed through the cemetery gates. “Who are you, really?” she demanded, still driving away from the holy ground.
“I don’t really have time to explain,” Sam started to say.
“And you two? What are you doing out here—where are your parents?” Davis asked over Sam’s aborted explanation.
“We’re on a scouting field trip,” Sammy said quickly. “Dean’s trying to get his merit badge in Landscape Architecture.”
Davis looked at Sammy in the rearview mirror, but Sam turned in his bucket seat. Both boys looked completely innocent. Unbelievable, Sam thought. Still, it was clear that Davis didn’t credit them for a second.
“What were you doing?” Dean asked before she could call their bluff.
“I was…that’s not the point,” she replied. “Where are your parents? We need to get you home as quickly as possible.”
“We need to take care of whatever’s back there first,” Sam said quickly. “What did you mean when you said you couldn’t get rid of it?”
“You wouldn’t believe me,” Davis said.
“Try us,” Sam, Sammy, and Dean all said at the same time.
She hit the brake suddenly, looking at them all with renewed interest. Sammy slid on his seat, but caught himself on her seat back. “Wait a minute… Aunt Jean said there was a family out at the Res today, asking questions. Agent Orange, are these your sons?”
Sammy burst out in giggles at the name, and once he started laughing, Dean couldn’t help himself. “Agent Orange!” Sammy repeated through giggles.
“Sorry,” Dean managed to choke out. “Sorry, but… Agent Orange?”
“Boys, that’s not nice. He can’t help it if his name is….” She looked back at him. “Wait. Do they know you or not?”
Sam rolled his eyes. It occurred to him that Dean was acting just like he’d never heard the name before, giving Sam the option of playing it either way. But Sam was tired of maintaining not one, but two covers. He shook his head. “Sergeant Davis, believe me when I tell you that these boys are not my sons—” Sammy looked betrayed and Dean said, “Hey!” in protest, but Sam continued— “but they have been helping me with this investigation. It’s all above board, don’t worry. The important thing is that we need to stop whatever is happening. So if you know anything, now’s the time to tell us.”
Davis stared at Sam for a moment as if she couldn’t decide whether he was a mastermind or a pervert. Just when he thought she might toss them all out of the car, Sammy said, “Ma’am, Uncle John’s right. It doesn’t matter right now just who we are or why we’re helping him out this summer. What matters is making sure that no one else gets hurt. You already knew that, if you were trying to stop it yourself. So if you tell us what you were planning to do, and what we’re up against, maybe we can all figure something out together.”
Why hadn’t Sam thought to say they were his nephews? He wanted to hug Sammy right there. No doubt about it, the Winchester boys were used to thinking on their feet. He glanced back at Sgt. Davis, who was looking at each of them in turn. Finally she seemed to reach a decision.
“I don’t know whether I believe you or not. And I don’t think we should put these children in danger, uh, John,” she chose, opting for that rather than the ridiculous cover name.
“Danger’s my middle name,” Dean declared.
“I thought it was Trouble,” Sammy fired back.
“Funny, I thought it was Be Quiet and Let the Lady Speak,” Sam growled. Both boys looked at each other, but they shut up.
“It’s a little freaky….” Davis ventured, pulling the car over more properly and setting the gear shift to Park. At Sam’s encouraging nod and hand roll, she took the plunge. “It’s a spirit. Well, more like a totem animal. A really, really obscure one. TakiMiniAgleska. According to Lakota myth, it’s like a sort of lizard that lives underground.”
“Like a giant alligator in the sewers?” Dean asked with excitement.
“More or less,” Davis admitted.
“How come no one’s ever heard of it then, like Nessie or Champ?” Sammy asked.
“I wouldn’t say no one’s heard of anything like it,” Davis sighed. “Beowulf had Grendel, after all.”
“Why the drought?” Sam wondered.
“I’ve been trying to figure that out,” Davis said. “When you mentioned the lake, it suddenly made sense. At first I thought it was something about the cemetery itself.”
“Your tribal elder, he said the land here was sacred,” Sam pointed out. “Could that be why?”
“Sammy,” Dean interrupted from the back seat, “When was this cemetery built? Do you remember what that plaque said?”
“What plaque?” Sam asked, but Sammy was already answering.
“When we were walking around, there was a memorial in the center, with a plaque,” Sammy told him. “This wasn’t the original spot where the cemetery was. They moved it in 1984, on the town centennial.”
“It must have been piss—I mean, ticked off,” Dean amended quickly with a sidelong look at Sam, “putting a cemetery on holy ground. But then wouldn’t it have pulled its sinkhole act back then?” He looked at his brother. “Have there been any other years with this kind of activity?”
Sammy shrugged. “I don’t have the notes we took, Dean. They’re in the motel.”
“Do you remember?” Dean pressed.
“No!” Sammy shouted. “If I remembered, I wouldn’t need to look at my notes!”
“Okay, okay, boys,” Sam said. “Let’s not worry about that now. You were saying?” He looked at Davis.
“Right, it’s not because of putting the cemetery here. Here’s just where it’s…stuck, effectively. The irrigation actually runs away from the lake, but the spirit probably needs some water to survive. The irrigation and the lake drainage combined are drying up the land between the two places, creating a high ground in the middle. It’s making it harder for the spirit creature to travel between here, its natural resting place, and the lake, its traditional feeding ground.”
“I’m confused,” Dean announced. “Is it a spirit, or a living creature?”
“Both,” Davis told him.
“Okay. We know what it is.” Sam looked at Davis. “Now what do we do about it?”
“Well, ideally we’d stop the irrigation and throw all the whites out of the area,” Davis said sardonically. “But since that’s somewhat impractical… I was going to make an offering of goat’s milk, animal bones, and horse hide,” she told him. “If I could appease it for a bit, I have a ritual to send it back to the spirit plane, and leave its host body.”
“So, it’s like it’s possessing something, but not a person, an animal?” Sammy asked.
Davis nodded. “Uncle Mick says the Agleska inhabits a normal lizard, takes it as an avatar of sorts. The presence of the spirit swells it up many times its natural size.”
“Cool,” both boys said with a fascinated grin at each other.
Sam was less than thrilled, but focused on the job at hand. “How long will it take to make up a new bag?”
“Got any nanny goats around?” Davis asked. “A few hours. Why?”
Sam looked back at Dean, who met his eye resolutely. “I have a plan.”
~*~*~*~
Davis brought them back to the Impala while Sam sketched out his plan. After dropping them off, Davis headed back for the reservation, where she could replace the clay pot. She said that the symbols on it would help attract the creature. The goat’s milk had to be fresh, so he told her they might as well wait until morning. Sam drove back to the motel. A quick consultation with the phone book confirmed that he would have to go to Grand Forks for the equipment he needed.
“Come on, if we hurry, we can get there before they close,” Sam said to Sammy and Dean.
“Then you should let Dean drive,” Sammy said solemnly.
Sam thanked his namesake for the suggestion, but respectfully declined. “If I’m going to be pulled over for speeding, I’d rather not also be cited for letting a twelve-year-old drive.”
They screamed into the store parking lot a full fifteen minutes before closing. “Okay, everyone know what he’s getting?” Sam asked as he shut off the car.
“Yes, sir,” they both said. Sam never could quite get used to the unison, militaristic response. Sam ran inside, the boys hard on his heels. Heading for his own assigned item, Sam pulled up to admire the precision training John Winchester had instilled in his sons. Dean and Sammy were both waiting for him when he got to the register. They piled up the harness, carabiners, and rope alongside the tranquilizer gun and its cartridges.
“Little early for hunting season,” the kid at the register said. His nametag said “Victor” and he looked about nineteen, with smooth, dark skin and a half-inch afro.
“Heading into rough territory,” Sam said gruffly. “Heard there’re some cougars sighted.”
“See your permit?” Victor asked.
Sam narrowed his eyes at the retail jockey. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the first fake government ID that came to hand. He flourished it in front of the kid.
“FBI?” Victor asked. Sam couldn’t be certain whether he was impressed or incredulous, but then he smiled broadly. “Cool. I was thinking about that, after college.”
“We’re always recruiting,” Sam said. “Especially if your grades are high.”
Victor lost no further time on the sale, but talked at Sam some more about the major he was thinking of declaring, whether UND would be a prestigious enough institution for consideration, and asking his opinion about whether ROTC would be a wise extracurricular activity. Sam fielded the questions patiently, wishing that Al would show up to help bolster his spotty memories of the few agents who had checked in on their project occasionally, “In the interest of national security.” Meanwhile, Dean snickered at the kid’s sudden change in attitude; Sammy kicked his leg, which devolved into some horseplay.
“Boys!” Sam said sharply. “Now is not the time.” He squeezed Dean’s shoulder to separate them, looking as stern as he could.
If the kid found anything weird about a man and two boys showing up to buy a trank gun with government ID, he wisely thought better of questioning it. Five minutes later, they were back in the car.
“You’re getting pretty good at this, Dr. Beckett,” Sammy said with admiration.
“Well, I get a lot of practice pretending to be other people,” Sam admitted. “I guess you kinda get used to it after a while.”
~*~*~*~
They met Davis the next morning outside the cemetery. The light was grey and uninviting, but the filtered quality of the air did nothing to dissipate the summer heat that was growing more oppressive as the morning drew on. Sam pulled the Impala next to Davis’s car and she shut hers off, jumped in to the passenger seat beside him.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” Sam asked her. “The ritual, I mean,” he added.
Davis shrugged. “I don’t have any better ideas,” she said.
“Right.” Sam turned in his seat to check on Dean, who was struggling into the harness with Sammy’s sleepy help. “Dean? You ready?”
“You’re using the kid?” Davis asked, her pitch rising along with her volume.
“You’re using the kid?” Al asked, appearing outside Sam’s window.
Sam closed his eyes. “I don’t like it, but he’s lighter than we are.” He opened the car door, forcing himself to ignore how it passed right through Al’s holographic frame. “Let’s see that rig,” Sam told Dean. Dean climbed out, tugging his jeans around the straps of the harness. Sam knelt in front of Dean to help adjust the tension.
“Okay,” Sam said, half to himself and half to Dean. “Sergeant Davis? Could you please tell Dean here what he needs to do?”
“Yeah, and if he’s gotta say anything, write it down,” Sammy quipped.
Davis set her mouth in disapproval. “I don’t think you’re really a DoD agent, but even if you were, I’m not endangering a child.”
“I’m not going to be in danger,” Dean told her through the open driver’s door. “That’s what this stupid thing is for,” he explained. Sam meanwhile rigged the rope and carabiner through the harness clips. He tied the rope off and tested the knot.
“I’ll be on the rope, so if something happens, we can haul him back up.”
Davis looked about to protest again, but Dean said, “It’s okay. I volunteered. Just tell me what to do.”
Davis sighed. “No, I’ll go. I’m light.”
“NO!” Sam and Al both said. “I don’t like it, Sam, but you can’t let her go; Ziggy says she still might die.”
Sam continued over him: “You’re not as light as he is. Come on, we’re wasting time.”
“Okay,” Davis said after another moment’s hesitation. “If you’re sure,” she said to Dean.
Dean grinned. “I’m sure.”
Davis reached down in the foot well for the bag. She got out of the car and Dean met her on her side.
“Sammy, you stay in the car,” Sam said.
“Yeah, yeah,” Sammy said, already settling himself against the window with a book, as if he were used to being left in the protective circle of the car. That didn’t stop him from checking Dean frequently over the margins of the pages.
Handing Dean the bag, Davis explained. “We need a fire going, first. There’s kindling in here and some matches. Then you’ll have to take the rest of the bag into one of the open sinkholes. Have you got a knife or something?” she asked.
Dean pulled out one of the two skinning knives they’d bought on their ammo stop and strapped the sheath to his belt.
Davis’s eyebrows lifted. “Okay, once you’re down there, draw the symbol on the clay pot into the earth walls. That’ll contain the creature when it comes, keep it from leaving. Then break open the jar, as bait. It’ll smell the milk from miles away. We’ll pull you out. While it’s working on the offering, pour this over the fire.” She handed him a packet of herbs from her pocket. “I can do the chant from a safe distance.”
“And that’s it?” Dean asked. Sammy, meanwhile, wordlessly handed him a flashlight through the window.
“That will dispel the spirit, yeah. And that should shrink the animal host back down to normal.”
“Okay,” Dean said.
Al motioned Sam to the back of the car. “I think I can help, Sam,” Al said. “I’ve asked Gooshie to program Ziggy for sensitivity to ground tremors. If the creature is moving, it will create vibrations. I can give you a heads up.”
“How about a heads up on whether the ground is unstable?” Sam muttered under his breath, hiding behind the open trunk lid. He carefully left the secret compartment closed. Al just shrugged and apologized for the computer’s limitations.
While Davis finished her instructions to Dean, Sam took out the tranquilizer gun from the trunk and checked it over. “Just in case,” he said, handing it to Davis. “Can you fire one of these?”
Davis inspected the rifle. “Should be fine,” she affirmed.
“Let’s go,” Sam said. He looked up again. The sky was still grey and shadowy. “We may have caught a break,” he told the others. “The eclipse will keep the sun off, so the creature’s more likely to be awake.”
“That’s a good thing?” Davis asked him.
“Well, we don’t know where it’s sleeping, right?” Sam pointed out.
The three of them picked their way carefully toward the sinkhole caution posts, Al trying to pace Dean, who was walking a little ahead of the adults. Dean tested the ground with the toe of his sneaker, so the going was slow, but eventually he reached the perimeter that the groundskeepers had marked. He put down the bundle, opened it up, and built the fire quickly. When it was burning, he turned back to Sam.
“Ready?” he called.
Sam braced the rope around his legs, gripping loosely in his gloved hands. “Ready,” he said with a nod.
Dean edged toward the hole. “Don’t break the jar until you’re ready to come back up,” Davis instructed. “It will smell the milk and come out before you’re ready otherwise.”
Dean nodded to acknowledge her. He sat on the edge of the hole and got out his flashlight, peering into the gloom. Sam braced. A second later, Dean dropped. Sam held the rope steady, then fed slack in an even motion. He didn’t remember ever going climbing, but for some reason he knew how to do this. Unintentional discoveries like this made him wonder what other hidden skills he would remind himself he had the longer he leaped, and whether, if he kept going long enough, he’d remember enough about the project to be able to help his team get him home.
“I’m down!” Dean shouted, muffled by earth, but audible. A few minutes passed. Then they heard a crack, and then, “Done! Pull me up!”
Sam hauled with all his strength. Davis set down the gun and helped him, hand-over-hand, to pull Dean back to the surface. Dean grabbed at the edge, but it came away in his hands. Sam stumbled forward from the sudden shift in weight.
“Whoa!” Dean cried. Sam righted himself. “I can’t get back up! The ground’s too shifty.”
Al bounced on his toes in distress. “Sam, it’s coming! You gotta get him back up!”
Sam braced. “Davis, give him some help. Be careful!” As soon as Al said something, he could feel the ground tremble. He couldn’t tell if the vibrations were real yet or just a phantom created by Al’s warning. He had no idea how close the creature was.
Davis ran forward, the rifle still in her hands. She stepped around the fire. “Give me your hand!” she shouted, going to her knees, while Sam pulled on the rope as hard as he could. Dean’s hand appeared through the hole, and she grabbed it. She dropped the rifle to add her other hand. Sam hauled; Davis hauled; Dean grabbed for purchase; he came up.
“The packet!” Davis ordered, panic and adrenaline making her voice shrill.
Dean rolled away from the edge and dug into his jeans pocket for the herbs. He handed them to her then lay on his back, breathing heavily. Davis got to her feet and edged around to the fire. She ripped open the envelope, ready to pour the herbs on the fire.
A second and another tremor later, the ground under the fire fell away, and the flames with it.
Davis grabbed Dean’s rope to keep from going in, which yanked Dean over toward his edge. He grabbed the end of the rope where Sam had tied it, giving her tension. “Sammy!” Dean screamed. “Sammy, get over here and help us!”
But Sammy was in the car and too far away to hear or see them. Al came to Sam’s elbow, coaching him to hold fast. Davis was good; she didn’t kick or flail, but got the envelope into her teeth and pulled herself up the rope hand-over-hand while Dean and Sam each braced their own end. She had barely reached the ground again when they felt a distinct tremor underneath their feet.
”The chant!” Sam shouted. “Start the chant!”
“The fire’s out! It’s no good!” Davis screamed back.
“Okay, get back, get back!” Sam told them both. Davis ran back to his point of safety, but Dean crawled over to peer down the hole. “Dean!”
“QUIET!” Dean shouted, holding up his hand. He felt along the ground for the rifle. They could hear as well as feel the creature now. Dean lowered the rifle barrel right down into the hole. Sam held his breath.
The movement beneath them stopped. Davis put her hand on Sam’s arm and squeezed.
BANG! Dean had fired. About ten seconds later, they felt a “thud” down below. Dean looked over to Sam and gave a thumbs-up sign.
“Sergeant Davis?” he called. “I think we can rebuild that fire now.”
~*~*~*~
Sam, Dean, and Sammy watched Davis pour the herbs on the fire. The flames turned blue. Mixed smells of mint and something skunky assaulted their senses, and Sammy gagged. Dean squeezed his eyes shut against the fumes, coughing. Overhead, the sky had begun to lighten up again; their shadows on the grass had odd crescents cut out of them.
“So cool,” Sammy said.
“Yeah, this Native American stuff is kinda like its own hoodoo,” Dean agreed quietly.
Sammy looked at his brother with disgust. “Not that, dumbass, the eclipse.”
Dean sniffed, then coughed again as the smell hit him. “Right, I knew that.”
“Yeah, sure you did,” Sammy said with rolled eyes.
“And don’t call me a dumbass,” Dean muttered, as an afterthought.
“You know, there’s some kind of an eclipse about every 18 months,” Sam told Sammy, “but the odds of a total eclipse occurring in the same spot is only once in about every 370 years. And it’s only total for about seven minutes from any particular vantage point.”
Dean glanced from his brother to the scientist who still looked like his father. “Please, please tell me you can go back now,” he said to Sam, “because one geek in the family is already too many.”
Sam laughed. “Thanks for your help, Dean,” he said, wondering himself if Al had an answer to the question about why he hadn’t yet Leapt. “You and Sammy.”
Dean grinned broadly. “Team Winchester,” he said with frank pride. Sammy snorted, but he was blushing, too. “Maybe this will convince Dad we can help him more often.”
“Can you bring Dad back now?” Sammy asked. “Not that we haven’t appreciated you, but…” he looked at his brother with something like an apologetic smile, “he’s our Dad. And we’d like him back. You know?”
Sam ruffled the kid’s hair. “I know. I’m not sure why—”
“The eclipse, Sam, Ziggy thinks as soon as it clears up you’ll leap out of here,” Al put in.
“Correction,” Sam continued midstream. “We should be able to get things back to normal about the same time the sky gets back to normal.”
Davis was walking toward them. Dean asked, with the haste of knowing they wouldn’t be alone much longer, “Will he…know what happened?”
Sam shook his head. “I don’t really know. I’m not usually here to find out. But I don’t think so. You’ll have to fill him in. But…something tells me you two are pretty good at that kind of thing.”
“Team Winchester,” Sammy echoed. Dean punched his arm.
Davis reached them. “Well, that’s sorted out,” she said. “Uncle Mick’s powder worked. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it, but that giant lizard turned back into a salamander.”
“Is it okay?” Sammy asked.
“It’s already finding its way back to water,” Davis said. “I think things will get back to normal pretty soon.” She looked at Sam. “I…didn’t say anything earlier, but I did some checking last night. You’re not with the DoD, and your name’s not really Agent Orange. Right?”
Sam smiled. “True. Sorry about that.”
She shrugged. “That’s okay. I should probably turn you in for impersonating a federal officer, but….” She looked back at the smouldering fire. “I think I’ll go home. Take a bath. Maybe I’ll take tomorrow off, too. I might file a report on Monday.”
Sam nodded. “Thanks,” he said on behalf of John Winchester and his sons. He had no doubt that once Winchester leapt back in, they’d be long gone within twenty-four hours.
“No. Thank you,” Davis said. She leaned up to kiss his cheek…and Sam felt the electric pins and needles that meant he was about to Leap.
Hope you have a great day, Carol!
Author: Gwendolyn Grace (
gwendolyngrace)Rating: PG
Characters: Sam Winchester (age 8), Dean Winchester (age 12), Dr. Sam Beckett, Adm. Al Calavicci, OFC.
Pairings: None
Genre: Gen (Quantum Leap / Supernatural Crossover)
Wordcount: 18,560 give or take
Summary: Happy Birthday,
ficwriter1966! This is set sometime within the first year or so of Project Quantum Leap (because the first season of QL is the only one I have on DVD currently!). The Leap Date is July 8, 1991. Dr. Sam Beckett Leaps in to save a life, which is not unusual…what’s unusual is that he’s saving it from an angry spirit.Author’s Notes: About a month after venturing hardcore into the SPN fandom, I got to reading some fics by
ficwriter1966. I have tremendous respect for her interpretations, and shortly after beginning to comment on and friending her journal, she answered some questions about writing for TV and being a published author. She revealed that she wrote two of the Quantum Leap tie-in novels. And thus this idea was spawned. I feel a little like I’m putting my head in the lion’s mouth—only because she knows the QL-verse much better than I! I’ve spent the last few months surfing QL sites, trying to jumpstart my memories of the show, and borrowing my mother’s Season 1 DVD set (Season One feels way short!). At the time I thought it would be easy to get this written before her birthday; boy, did I underestimate the rate of plot bunny attack in this fandom! Also other commitments, getting into a show…etc. But here it is, and it’s dedicated to Carol. Crossover Note: As with most of my crossovers, if you are minimally familiar with either fandom, you will be able to enjoy the fic without needing too much knowledge of the other fandom used herein.
Researcher’s Note: The July 11 eclipse, Minnewaukan, Devil’s Lake, the reservation, the drainage project, and the National Guard training facility are all real. The MotW is not. I don’t speak Lakota; I cobbled together some vocabulary found online to create the name of the creature.
Disclaimer: Quantum Leap was created by Don Bellisario and is owned by NBC TV. Supernatural was created by Eric Kripke and is owned by WB / CWTV. I was created by a rare act of silliness on my parents’ part and am (entirely) owned by my obsessions.
Chapter Three
“Stakeouts are fun,” Dean announced when Sam told them they were going to the cemetery. Four hours later, Dean agreed with Sammy. “This is boring. When do we get to hunt the monster?”
“With any luck, you don’t,” Sam said over his shoulder. He longed to get out of the car himself, stretch his legs, even just stand up for a bit. He had settled for putting his feet up on the passenger seat, while Sammy and Dean shared the back.
“Maybe we should take a walk over there,” Sammy suggested. “See what the terrain is like. Dad doesn’t like to hunt if he doesn’t know what the terrain will be like.”
“Good idea, Sammy,” Dean said immediately. It was a mark of how bored he really was that he neither put down nor tried to counter Sammy’s recommendation. “You can stay here and watch the entrance, and Sammy and I can take a run around the path. There’s nothing suspicious about two kids going for a run, is there?”
Sam wanted to protest. He could see the caution tape looped around stakes at one of the sink hole sites, the most recent one, from the look of the tape. “The ground may be dangerous,” he pointed out.
“Well, we’re lighter than you are,” Sammy said tactlessly. “Not that Dad’s fat, because he’s not,” he added hastily. “But we’re littler.”
“Sammy’s right. We’re less likely to fall in.”
Sam considered this. “That’s true,” he admitted. “But I’m not taking chances with kids’ lives. Tell you what. Stick to the road through the cemetery—no going off on the grass. Once around, walking, and then come back. Tell me what you see.”
They opened the doors almost before he had finished speaking. Sam sat back to resume his vigil, alternating now between the boys’ progress and the main entrance. Lara Davis still hadn’t put in an appearance.
As if letting the boys go had been a summons, a silver Accord pulled through the gate about two minutes later. Sam held up his binoculars to see the driver. “Bingo,” he breathed. Lara Davis drove in and turned left, away from the direction the boys had gone. Sam struggled to get his legs back into the foot well so that he could climb out of the Impala.
On foot, he followed the leftward path. The red glint of the setting sun reflected off the silver trunk, making the car easy to spot in the fading light. Davis parked near a section that had been posted with signs. “Danger,” they said, and, “Please do not walk on grass.” She got out of her car with a canvas bag and went around to the trunk of the car.
Sam caught up with her fast. “Sergeant Davis?” he called, adopting a “Fancy meeting you here” sort of surprise. “I was hoping I’d see you again, but not quite like this,” he said as he walked over.
Davis jumped and dropped her bag on the asphalt.
“Sorry,” Sam said. “I seem to keep making you lose hold of things.” He bent over to pick up the bag before she could. It was heavy, and a stain was forming on the bottom. “I uh, think you broke something,” he said, as the wet stain spread. He jiggled the bag and heard glass. “God, I’m so sorry….”
But the look on her face made him stop apologizing. “Oh, gods,” she said, trembling. “Give it to me, quick!”
He handed over the bag and she turned away from him to open it on the ground. She covered the opening with her body, but Sam could see from his vantage something that looked like a dead animal, and not glass, but broken shards of a clay pot. And the wet substance inside surely wasn’t blood, but it looked more like…
“Milk?” he asked.
“Fresh goat’s milk, yes,” she muttered. She tossed the bag as far into the grass as she could. “You shouldn’t have come here,” she told him. “Get in the car!”
Sam was about to argue, but at that moment he felt a tremor near the edge of the road. “What did you do?” he demanded.
“What did I do?” she said. “You startled me. I broke the talisman. Now I can’t contain it to get rid of it. Get in the car!” She ducked inside and turned the ignition.
Sam felt the rumble increase. He moved quickly to the passenger side and climbed in just as Davis was slamming the car into gear. Before he even shut the door, she was gunning it.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he said as she turned around in a circle built in to the pathway, “but aren’t we a little heavy for unstable ground?”
“Not if we get out of the way fast enough,” Davis said. “Shut up now, please; driving.”
Sam shut up and let her burst through the cemetery. As they drove past the center ring, he saw Dean and Sammy running to follow.
“Wait!” he yelled. “There’re kids out there!”
Davis screeched the brakes and the boys reached the car. Sam waved at them frantically. “Get in! Get in!” he ordered. They clambered into the back seat and Davis took off again, laying down rubber in her haste.
She didn’t stop when she passed through the cemetery gates. “Who are you, really?” she demanded, still driving away from the holy ground.
“I don’t really have time to explain,” Sam started to say.
“And you two? What are you doing out here—where are your parents?” Davis asked over Sam’s aborted explanation.
“We’re on a scouting field trip,” Sammy said quickly. “Dean’s trying to get his merit badge in Landscape Architecture.”
Davis looked at Sammy in the rearview mirror, but Sam turned in his bucket seat. Both boys looked completely innocent. Unbelievable, Sam thought. Still, it was clear that Davis didn’t credit them for a second.
“What were you doing?” Dean asked before she could call their bluff.
“I was…that’s not the point,” she replied. “Where are your parents? We need to get you home as quickly as possible.”
“We need to take care of whatever’s back there first,” Sam said quickly. “What did you mean when you said you couldn’t get rid of it?”
“You wouldn’t believe me,” Davis said.
“Try us,” Sam, Sammy, and Dean all said at the same time.
She hit the brake suddenly, looking at them all with renewed interest. Sammy slid on his seat, but caught himself on her seat back. “Wait a minute… Aunt Jean said there was a family out at the Res today, asking questions. Agent Orange, are these your sons?”
Sammy burst out in giggles at the name, and once he started laughing, Dean couldn’t help himself. “Agent Orange!” Sammy repeated through giggles.
“Sorry,” Dean managed to choke out. “Sorry, but… Agent Orange?”
“Boys, that’s not nice. He can’t help it if his name is….” She looked back at him. “Wait. Do they know you or not?”
Sam rolled his eyes. It occurred to him that Dean was acting just like he’d never heard the name before, giving Sam the option of playing it either way. But Sam was tired of maintaining not one, but two covers. He shook his head. “Sergeant Davis, believe me when I tell you that these boys are not my sons—” Sammy looked betrayed and Dean said, “Hey!” in protest, but Sam continued— “but they have been helping me with this investigation. It’s all above board, don’t worry. The important thing is that we need to stop whatever is happening. So if you know anything, now’s the time to tell us.”
Davis stared at Sam for a moment as if she couldn’t decide whether he was a mastermind or a pervert. Just when he thought she might toss them all out of the car, Sammy said, “Ma’am, Uncle John’s right. It doesn’t matter right now just who we are or why we’re helping him out this summer. What matters is making sure that no one else gets hurt. You already knew that, if you were trying to stop it yourself. So if you tell us what you were planning to do, and what we’re up against, maybe we can all figure something out together.”
Why hadn’t Sam thought to say they were his nephews? He wanted to hug Sammy right there. No doubt about it, the Winchester boys were used to thinking on their feet. He glanced back at Sgt. Davis, who was looking at each of them in turn. Finally she seemed to reach a decision.
“I don’t know whether I believe you or not. And I don’t think we should put these children in danger, uh, John,” she chose, opting for that rather than the ridiculous cover name.
“Danger’s my middle name,” Dean declared.
“I thought it was Trouble,” Sammy fired back.
“Funny, I thought it was Be Quiet and Let the Lady Speak,” Sam growled. Both boys looked at each other, but they shut up.
“It’s a little freaky….” Davis ventured, pulling the car over more properly and setting the gear shift to Park. At Sam’s encouraging nod and hand roll, she took the plunge. “It’s a spirit. Well, more like a totem animal. A really, really obscure one. TakiMiniAgleska. According to Lakota myth, it’s like a sort of lizard that lives underground.”
“Like a giant alligator in the sewers?” Dean asked with excitement.
“More or less,” Davis admitted.
“How come no one’s ever heard of it then, like Nessie or Champ?” Sammy asked.
“I wouldn’t say no one’s heard of anything like it,” Davis sighed. “Beowulf had Grendel, after all.”
“Why the drought?” Sam wondered.
“I’ve been trying to figure that out,” Davis said. “When you mentioned the lake, it suddenly made sense. At first I thought it was something about the cemetery itself.”
“Your tribal elder, he said the land here was sacred,” Sam pointed out. “Could that be why?”
“Sammy,” Dean interrupted from the back seat, “When was this cemetery built? Do you remember what that plaque said?”
“What plaque?” Sam asked, but Sammy was already answering.
“When we were walking around, there was a memorial in the center, with a plaque,” Sammy told him. “This wasn’t the original spot where the cemetery was. They moved it in 1984, on the town centennial.”
“It must have been piss—I mean, ticked off,” Dean amended quickly with a sidelong look at Sam, “putting a cemetery on holy ground. But then wouldn’t it have pulled its sinkhole act back then?” He looked at his brother. “Have there been any other years with this kind of activity?”
Sammy shrugged. “I don’t have the notes we took, Dean. They’re in the motel.”
“Do you remember?” Dean pressed.
“No!” Sammy shouted. “If I remembered, I wouldn’t need to look at my notes!”
“Okay, okay, boys,” Sam said. “Let’s not worry about that now. You were saying?” He looked at Davis.
“Right, it’s not because of putting the cemetery here. Here’s just where it’s…stuck, effectively. The irrigation actually runs away from the lake, but the spirit probably needs some water to survive. The irrigation and the lake drainage combined are drying up the land between the two places, creating a high ground in the middle. It’s making it harder for the spirit creature to travel between here, its natural resting place, and the lake, its traditional feeding ground.”
“I’m confused,” Dean announced. “Is it a spirit, or a living creature?”
“Both,” Davis told him.
“Okay. We know what it is.” Sam looked at Davis. “Now what do we do about it?”
“Well, ideally we’d stop the irrigation and throw all the whites out of the area,” Davis said sardonically. “But since that’s somewhat impractical… I was going to make an offering of goat’s milk, animal bones, and horse hide,” she told him. “If I could appease it for a bit, I have a ritual to send it back to the spirit plane, and leave its host body.”
“So, it’s like it’s possessing something, but not a person, an animal?” Sammy asked.
Davis nodded. “Uncle Mick says the Agleska inhabits a normal lizard, takes it as an avatar of sorts. The presence of the spirit swells it up many times its natural size.”
“Cool,” both boys said with a fascinated grin at each other.
Sam was less than thrilled, but focused on the job at hand. “How long will it take to make up a new bag?”
“Got any nanny goats around?” Davis asked. “A few hours. Why?”
Sam looked back at Dean, who met his eye resolutely. “I have a plan.”
~*~*~*~
Davis brought them back to the Impala while Sam sketched out his plan. After dropping them off, Davis headed back for the reservation, where she could replace the clay pot. She said that the symbols on it would help attract the creature. The goat’s milk had to be fresh, so he told her they might as well wait until morning. Sam drove back to the motel. A quick consultation with the phone book confirmed that he would have to go to Grand Forks for the equipment he needed.
“Come on, if we hurry, we can get there before they close,” Sam said to Sammy and Dean.
“Then you should let Dean drive,” Sammy said solemnly.
Sam thanked his namesake for the suggestion, but respectfully declined. “If I’m going to be pulled over for speeding, I’d rather not also be cited for letting a twelve-year-old drive.”
They screamed into the store parking lot a full fifteen minutes before closing. “Okay, everyone know what he’s getting?” Sam asked as he shut off the car.
“Yes, sir,” they both said. Sam never could quite get used to the unison, militaristic response. Sam ran inside, the boys hard on his heels. Heading for his own assigned item, Sam pulled up to admire the precision training John Winchester had instilled in his sons. Dean and Sammy were both waiting for him when he got to the register. They piled up the harness, carabiners, and rope alongside the tranquilizer gun and its cartridges.
“Little early for hunting season,” the kid at the register said. His nametag said “Victor” and he looked about nineteen, with smooth, dark skin and a half-inch afro.
“Heading into rough territory,” Sam said gruffly. “Heard there’re some cougars sighted.”
“See your permit?” Victor asked.
Sam narrowed his eyes at the retail jockey. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the first fake government ID that came to hand. He flourished it in front of the kid.
“FBI?” Victor asked. Sam couldn’t be certain whether he was impressed or incredulous, but then he smiled broadly. “Cool. I was thinking about that, after college.”
“We’re always recruiting,” Sam said. “Especially if your grades are high.”
Victor lost no further time on the sale, but talked at Sam some more about the major he was thinking of declaring, whether UND would be a prestigious enough institution for consideration, and asking his opinion about whether ROTC would be a wise extracurricular activity. Sam fielded the questions patiently, wishing that Al would show up to help bolster his spotty memories of the few agents who had checked in on their project occasionally, “In the interest of national security.” Meanwhile, Dean snickered at the kid’s sudden change in attitude; Sammy kicked his leg, which devolved into some horseplay.
“Boys!” Sam said sharply. “Now is not the time.” He squeezed Dean’s shoulder to separate them, looking as stern as he could.
If the kid found anything weird about a man and two boys showing up to buy a trank gun with government ID, he wisely thought better of questioning it. Five minutes later, they were back in the car.
“You’re getting pretty good at this, Dr. Beckett,” Sammy said with admiration.
“Well, I get a lot of practice pretending to be other people,” Sam admitted. “I guess you kinda get used to it after a while.”
~*~*~*~
They met Davis the next morning outside the cemetery. The light was grey and uninviting, but the filtered quality of the air did nothing to dissipate the summer heat that was growing more oppressive as the morning drew on. Sam pulled the Impala next to Davis’s car and she shut hers off, jumped in to the passenger seat beside him.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” Sam asked her. “The ritual, I mean,” he added.
Davis shrugged. “I don’t have any better ideas,” she said.
“Right.” Sam turned in his seat to check on Dean, who was struggling into the harness with Sammy’s sleepy help. “Dean? You ready?”
“You’re using the kid?” Davis asked, her pitch rising along with her volume.
“You’re using the kid?” Al asked, appearing outside Sam’s window.
Sam closed his eyes. “I don’t like it, but he’s lighter than we are.” He opened the car door, forcing himself to ignore how it passed right through Al’s holographic frame. “Let’s see that rig,” Sam told Dean. Dean climbed out, tugging his jeans around the straps of the harness. Sam knelt in front of Dean to help adjust the tension.
“Okay,” Sam said, half to himself and half to Dean. “Sergeant Davis? Could you please tell Dean here what he needs to do?”
“Yeah, and if he’s gotta say anything, write it down,” Sammy quipped.
Davis set her mouth in disapproval. “I don’t think you’re really a DoD agent, but even if you were, I’m not endangering a child.”
“I’m not going to be in danger,” Dean told her through the open driver’s door. “That’s what this stupid thing is for,” he explained. Sam meanwhile rigged the rope and carabiner through the harness clips. He tied the rope off and tested the knot.
“I’ll be on the rope, so if something happens, we can haul him back up.”
Davis looked about to protest again, but Dean said, “It’s okay. I volunteered. Just tell me what to do.”
Davis sighed. “No, I’ll go. I’m light.”
“NO!” Sam and Al both said. “I don’t like it, Sam, but you can’t let her go; Ziggy says she still might die.”
Sam continued over him: “You’re not as light as he is. Come on, we’re wasting time.”
“Okay,” Davis said after another moment’s hesitation. “If you’re sure,” she said to Dean.
Dean grinned. “I’m sure.”
Davis reached down in the foot well for the bag. She got out of the car and Dean met her on her side.
“Sammy, you stay in the car,” Sam said.
“Yeah, yeah,” Sammy said, already settling himself against the window with a book, as if he were used to being left in the protective circle of the car. That didn’t stop him from checking Dean frequently over the margins of the pages.
Handing Dean the bag, Davis explained. “We need a fire going, first. There’s kindling in here and some matches. Then you’ll have to take the rest of the bag into one of the open sinkholes. Have you got a knife or something?” she asked.
Dean pulled out one of the two skinning knives they’d bought on their ammo stop and strapped the sheath to his belt.
Davis’s eyebrows lifted. “Okay, once you’re down there, draw the symbol on the clay pot into the earth walls. That’ll contain the creature when it comes, keep it from leaving. Then break open the jar, as bait. It’ll smell the milk from miles away. We’ll pull you out. While it’s working on the offering, pour this over the fire.” She handed him a packet of herbs from her pocket. “I can do the chant from a safe distance.”
“And that’s it?” Dean asked. Sammy, meanwhile, wordlessly handed him a flashlight through the window.
“That will dispel the spirit, yeah. And that should shrink the animal host back down to normal.”
“Okay,” Dean said.
Al motioned Sam to the back of the car. “I think I can help, Sam,” Al said. “I’ve asked Gooshie to program Ziggy for sensitivity to ground tremors. If the creature is moving, it will create vibrations. I can give you a heads up.”
“How about a heads up on whether the ground is unstable?” Sam muttered under his breath, hiding behind the open trunk lid. He carefully left the secret compartment closed. Al just shrugged and apologized for the computer’s limitations.
While Davis finished her instructions to Dean, Sam took out the tranquilizer gun from the trunk and checked it over. “Just in case,” he said, handing it to Davis. “Can you fire one of these?”
Davis inspected the rifle. “Should be fine,” she affirmed.
“Let’s go,” Sam said. He looked up again. The sky was still grey and shadowy. “We may have caught a break,” he told the others. “The eclipse will keep the sun off, so the creature’s more likely to be awake.”
“That’s a good thing?” Davis asked him.
“Well, we don’t know where it’s sleeping, right?” Sam pointed out.
The three of them picked their way carefully toward the sinkhole caution posts, Al trying to pace Dean, who was walking a little ahead of the adults. Dean tested the ground with the toe of his sneaker, so the going was slow, but eventually he reached the perimeter that the groundskeepers had marked. He put down the bundle, opened it up, and built the fire quickly. When it was burning, he turned back to Sam.
“Ready?” he called.
Sam braced the rope around his legs, gripping loosely in his gloved hands. “Ready,” he said with a nod.
Dean edged toward the hole. “Don’t break the jar until you’re ready to come back up,” Davis instructed. “It will smell the milk and come out before you’re ready otherwise.”
Dean nodded to acknowledge her. He sat on the edge of the hole and got out his flashlight, peering into the gloom. Sam braced. A second later, Dean dropped. Sam held the rope steady, then fed slack in an even motion. He didn’t remember ever going climbing, but for some reason he knew how to do this. Unintentional discoveries like this made him wonder what other hidden skills he would remind himself he had the longer he leaped, and whether, if he kept going long enough, he’d remember enough about the project to be able to help his team get him home.
“I’m down!” Dean shouted, muffled by earth, but audible. A few minutes passed. Then they heard a crack, and then, “Done! Pull me up!”
Sam hauled with all his strength. Davis set down the gun and helped him, hand-over-hand, to pull Dean back to the surface. Dean grabbed at the edge, but it came away in his hands. Sam stumbled forward from the sudden shift in weight.
“Whoa!” Dean cried. Sam righted himself. “I can’t get back up! The ground’s too shifty.”
Al bounced on his toes in distress. “Sam, it’s coming! You gotta get him back up!”
Sam braced. “Davis, give him some help. Be careful!” As soon as Al said something, he could feel the ground tremble. He couldn’t tell if the vibrations were real yet or just a phantom created by Al’s warning. He had no idea how close the creature was.
Davis ran forward, the rifle still in her hands. She stepped around the fire. “Give me your hand!” she shouted, going to her knees, while Sam pulled on the rope as hard as he could. Dean’s hand appeared through the hole, and she grabbed it. She dropped the rifle to add her other hand. Sam hauled; Davis hauled; Dean grabbed for purchase; he came up.
“The packet!” Davis ordered, panic and adrenaline making her voice shrill.
Dean rolled away from the edge and dug into his jeans pocket for the herbs. He handed them to her then lay on his back, breathing heavily. Davis got to her feet and edged around to the fire. She ripped open the envelope, ready to pour the herbs on the fire.
A second and another tremor later, the ground under the fire fell away, and the flames with it.
Davis grabbed Dean’s rope to keep from going in, which yanked Dean over toward his edge. He grabbed the end of the rope where Sam had tied it, giving her tension. “Sammy!” Dean screamed. “Sammy, get over here and help us!”
But Sammy was in the car and too far away to hear or see them. Al came to Sam’s elbow, coaching him to hold fast. Davis was good; she didn’t kick or flail, but got the envelope into her teeth and pulled herself up the rope hand-over-hand while Dean and Sam each braced their own end. She had barely reached the ground again when they felt a distinct tremor underneath their feet.
”The chant!” Sam shouted. “Start the chant!”
“The fire’s out! It’s no good!” Davis screamed back.
“Okay, get back, get back!” Sam told them both. Davis ran back to his point of safety, but Dean crawled over to peer down the hole. “Dean!”
“QUIET!” Dean shouted, holding up his hand. He felt along the ground for the rifle. They could hear as well as feel the creature now. Dean lowered the rifle barrel right down into the hole. Sam held his breath.
The movement beneath them stopped. Davis put her hand on Sam’s arm and squeezed.
BANG! Dean had fired. About ten seconds later, they felt a “thud” down below. Dean looked over to Sam and gave a thumbs-up sign.
“Sergeant Davis?” he called. “I think we can rebuild that fire now.”
~*~*~*~
Sam, Dean, and Sammy watched Davis pour the herbs on the fire. The flames turned blue. Mixed smells of mint and something skunky assaulted their senses, and Sammy gagged. Dean squeezed his eyes shut against the fumes, coughing. Overhead, the sky had begun to lighten up again; their shadows on the grass had odd crescents cut out of them.
“So cool,” Sammy said.
“Yeah, this Native American stuff is kinda like its own hoodoo,” Dean agreed quietly.
Sammy looked at his brother with disgust. “Not that, dumbass, the eclipse.”
Dean sniffed, then coughed again as the smell hit him. “Right, I knew that.”
“Yeah, sure you did,” Sammy said with rolled eyes.
“And don’t call me a dumbass,” Dean muttered, as an afterthought.
“You know, there’s some kind of an eclipse about every 18 months,” Sam told Sammy, “but the odds of a total eclipse occurring in the same spot is only once in about every 370 years. And it’s only total for about seven minutes from any particular vantage point.”
Dean glanced from his brother to the scientist who still looked like his father. “Please, please tell me you can go back now,” he said to Sam, “because one geek in the family is already too many.”
Sam laughed. “Thanks for your help, Dean,” he said, wondering himself if Al had an answer to the question about why he hadn’t yet Leapt. “You and Sammy.”
Dean grinned broadly. “Team Winchester,” he said with frank pride. Sammy snorted, but he was blushing, too. “Maybe this will convince Dad we can help him more often.”
“Can you bring Dad back now?” Sammy asked. “Not that we haven’t appreciated you, but…” he looked at his brother with something like an apologetic smile, “he’s our Dad. And we’d like him back. You know?”
Sam ruffled the kid’s hair. “I know. I’m not sure why—”
“The eclipse, Sam, Ziggy thinks as soon as it clears up you’ll leap out of here,” Al put in.
“Correction,” Sam continued midstream. “We should be able to get things back to normal about the same time the sky gets back to normal.”
Davis was walking toward them. Dean asked, with the haste of knowing they wouldn’t be alone much longer, “Will he…know what happened?”
Sam shook his head. “I don’t really know. I’m not usually here to find out. But I don’t think so. You’ll have to fill him in. But…something tells me you two are pretty good at that kind of thing.”
“Team Winchester,” Sammy echoed. Dean punched his arm.
Davis reached them. “Well, that’s sorted out,” she said. “Uncle Mick’s powder worked. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it, but that giant lizard turned back into a salamander.”
“Is it okay?” Sammy asked.
“It’s already finding its way back to water,” Davis said. “I think things will get back to normal pretty soon.” She looked at Sam. “I…didn’t say anything earlier, but I did some checking last night. You’re not with the DoD, and your name’s not really Agent Orange. Right?”
Sam smiled. “True. Sorry about that.”
She shrugged. “That’s okay. I should probably turn you in for impersonating a federal officer, but….” She looked back at the smouldering fire. “I think I’ll go home. Take a bath. Maybe I’ll take tomorrow off, too. I might file a report on Monday.”
Sam nodded. “Thanks,” he said on behalf of John Winchester and his sons. He had no doubt that once Winchester leapt back in, they’d be long gone within twenty-four hours.
“No. Thank you,” Davis said. She leaned up to kiss his cheek…and Sam felt the electric pins and needles that meant he was about to Leap.
Hope you have a great day, Carol!
