Winter 2003

Milford, OH

Rock salt did nothing. Holy water had no effect. Bullets barely slowed them down. Running like hell worked, to an extent.

Damn, they were fast.

Suddenly another hunter was there. "You're going about this all wrong," he said calmly, sporting a wicked grin.

"Oh yeah?" Dean wasn't impressed as the man, all cock and swagger, pulled out a baseball bat. "You gonna take a swing at them? By all means, be my guest." He never stopped running for the Impala, two blocks ahead. The creatures weren't that far behind him, but hopefully that smiling idiot would slow them down, either he'd kill them, or they'd stop to eat him. Either way, Dean'd have time to make his escape.

"Nope. I'm going to take a swing at this!" And without any further warning the bat came down on the hood of a candy ass, metallic purple Volkswagen Beetle. Immediately, its very loud and very obnoxious car alarm went off causing the creatures to drop to the ground, shrieking in pain.

"Nice trick." Dean backtracked, approaching the hunter cautiously.

"I have my moments." Pulling two swords out of his long jacket the man offered him one. "Know how to use one of these?"

Dean shrugged. "Not all that hard, is it?"

"Now that their sonic bond has been disrupted any damage to their body's skin will cause catastrophic failure." Seeing Dean's raised eyebrow at his explanation, the man added, "Any cut'll kill them."

Three satisfying minutes later, the creatures were all dead. Dean handed back the sword reluctantly. "Thanks for the assist."

"Just doing my job," the man responded as he offered his hand. "Captain Jack Harkness."

"Dean." The man might have saved his life, but that didn't earn him the right to know everything about him.

"Nice to meet you, Dean." Harkness held onto Dean's hand a moment longer than absolutely necessary. There was something vaguely familiar about that carefree smile of his, but Dean couldn't pin it down. "Unfortunately, the police are probably on their way, otherwise I'd love to stay and chat." And then, with a swish of his coat, he turned and left, melting into the darkness.

Hearing a siren in the distance, Dean took off as well, giving the Beetle a disgusted look as he ran past. Because, dude, racing stripes? Freaking car deserved getting smashed for that.

Spring 2004

Baraboo, WI

Dean was digging up his fourth corpse to salt and burn when a quiet voice said, "You're going through a lot of effort for nothing; that's not going to stop it."

Ignoring the newcomer, Dean kept digging.

"Captain Jack Harkness," the man said, "We met back in-"

"I remember." The jacket and the smile were hard to forget. As was the fact he was even more cocky and self-assured than Dean was himself. A hunter of some sort, that was obvious in the way he'd appeared out of nowhere, completely unconcerned about Dean disinterring some poor bastard's remains- other than offering his opinion it wasn't going to help matters any.

"Not that I don't mind watching you build up a sweat, but, as I mentioned, salting and burning's not going to work"

"It's how you get rid of ghosts," Dean said matter-of-factly, leaning into the shovel. Almost there.

Harkness was lounging against a tree a few feet from away looking like he didn't have a care in the world. "True. But this isn't a haunting. They're Gelth, not ghosts."

"What?"

"Gelth. They're supposed to be extinct, but I guess nothing is ever gone for good where the Time War's involved."

"Time War? Never mind." Dean held up a hand when Harkness opened his mouth to explain. "Just tell me how we kill 'em."

"Always get straight to the point, don't you, Dean? Not the worst trait to have, if I do say so myself." Harkness pushed away from the tree, his wide grin shining in the moonlight. "There must be a small rift fissure nearby. Once we close it the Gelth won't be able to slip though and animate any more corpses."

"And the ones that are already here?"

"They're non-corporeal. It'll be easy to stop them once we cut of their supply to the natural gas pipeline."

Dean didn't bother replying, just raised an eyebrow in Harkness' general direction.

Harkness flipped open a device on his wrist. "Locating the fissure shouldn't be too difficult, just drive around a bit till my friend here gives us a signal. A cluster bomb should take care of everything."

Cluster bomb? That could be interesting. "Need a hand?"

"Sure. We've worked well together before. I'm up for a repeat performance."

"I'm driving."

"You Winchester men and your cars." Harkness shook his head. "Lead the way."

Summer 2005

A cellar - somewhere

Dean had thought he was facing a kappa. It should have been simple enough to kill. All you have to do is get it to bow low enough and it'd spill the water from the bowl on its head and it would be vulnerable, easy to kill. No more people getting eaten from the inside out. Easy as pie.

Or not.

He had bowed. The kappa had returned the bow, just like all the research said it would, but the wild hair wasn't hiding water like it was supposed to. The damn thing leapt at him, he got knocked out, and the next thing he knew he was here. Locked in a damn cellar. Tied up. Getting to his knees and then into a squat, he leaned against the wall and pushed off to get the leverage he needed to get to his feet despite his hands being tied behind his back.

"Oh good," a voice called from the darkness, "You're awake." And, just like that, Captain Jack Harkness strolled back into his life.

"You."

"That's all I get? No greeting, not even a smile? I'm disappointed."

There was just enough light coming from the single bulb that hang from the ceiling that, now that Harkness was closer, Dean could see that the other man's hands were free. "You gonna help me out here," he gestured with his bound hands, "or just keep yakking?"

"You think I can't do both? I'm hurt." Harkness reached out, turned Dean around and then leaned in to inspect the rope. "Hold still. I would have done this earlier, but I wasn't sure if you were injured, and didn't want to risk you regaining consciousness with me leaning over you." Harkness's breath ghosted over Dean's neck. "I know you'd react badly to something like that, and I have no desire to be at the receiving end of your right hook again."

Wait a minute... again? Dean looked over his shoulder at Harkness, still struggling to get the knots undone. "You find a way out?"

"Nope. Wouldn't still be here if I did."

"Door?"

"They parked a... vehicle in front of it after they brought you in. And there's no other exit: no windows, no grates, no ventilation shafts, nothing. But don't worry, my team knows what to do if they lose contact with me. I give it another hour, two at the most, before they find us. Ah! There we go!"

Dean had to stifle a hiss as his arms came free and the movement jostled the pain in his side he had been trying to ignore. It was a fiery burn now, at it took all his resolve to just stay standing. "Hey!" he yelled, brushing away Harkness' attempt to examine his wound.

"We're not going anywhere anytime soon, Dean. You may as well let me patch you up."

Of course, Dean wasn't that easy. He spent ten fruitless minutes going over every inch of the cellar before accepting the fact they were stuck there, before finally sinking to the floor and letting Harkness take a look at his side.

Harkness' touch was surprisingly gentle as he pulled the torn shirt away from the wound. "Not too deep, not much chance of it becoming septic," he said, blandly, like he was announcing for the weather channel or something. "You were lucky with the angle; usually the talon wounds are much deeper, often to the point of eviscerating their prey."

"Maybe not, considering." Dean grunted as Harkness tied a makeshift bandage over the wound. "Didn't gut you, did it?"

"Did I say it didn't?" Harkness smiled, but his eyes were sad. Dean shifted slightly and saw that Harkness' shirt had huge gashes across it.

"But..."

"You don't remember the first time we met, do you?" Finished playing nursemaid, Harkness leaned back on his haunches, looking Dean straight in the eye.

"The car alarm creatures- Ohio- a couple of winters ago."

"Nope. Well before that- fall 1985. You were maybe, six? John took you and Sam on a hunt, going after... what I suppose could best be called were-cheetahs. My team and I had heard about them and thought we could resolve the situation before anyone else found out about it, but your dad-"

"Dad always had the best contacts." Harkness shifted, taking off that stupid coat he always wore and laying it over Dean like a blanket The wool felt familiar.

"Your dad's a good hunter," Jack said. The words echoed in Dean's mind. They'd been like this before- him hurt and Jack taking care of him- the jacket, the gentle tone...

And then it all came back to Dean...

Fall 1985

Near Lake Michigan

Dean had been running, carrying Sammy, through the woods. He had to take care of Sammy, to keep him safe. Chubby hands clung to him. "It's okay, Sammy. Dad'll kill 'em. I just gotta find a better hiding spot for us." The cat creatures' senses were stronger than Dad thought they'd be and Dean had figured out the hollow tree wasn't going to be effective cover for long, so when he saw his opportunity he took it and ran.

He knew he was making too much noise, but it was hard to be quiet and fast with all the leaves crunching with every step he took. Two hundred yards or so to the path, then up the path to the road. There was a gas station not too far down the road where they could hang out, pretending their dad was in the can and no one'd bother them. Piece of cake.

Except he never even made it to the path.

One minute there was nothing and the next there was a flash of fur and he was flying through the air. His last thought, right before he smashed into a tree, was trying to hold tight to Sammy to protect him, no matter what.

What happened after that was muddled. There was the sound of gunshots and some roars of pain, and then it was quiet, except for Sammy, sniffling softly at his side. The creatures were gone, but a man lay on the ground just a few feet away, his neck at that kind of weird angle that Dean knew meant he was dead. "S'mmmy? Shhh, it's okay. Don't cry." He hugged his brother close to him, running and arm up and down his back, trying to soothe him. "I'll take you to Dad in a second. I just gotta rest for a bit first." Everything swirled around so Dean decided to put off moving, instead curling around Sammy and giving into the pain and falling asleep.

"Hey there, kiddo. You okay?" It wasn't Dad asking. It was the man he'd seen before on the ground and he had his hand on Sammy! Dean lashed out, swinging, clocking the stranger hard on the jaw.

"You leave him alone!"

"Easy there, I just wanted to check on you. That was a pretty hard hit you took." The man held his hands in the air, like he was surrendering or something. "Is this your brother?" Dean nodded. "You did a good job at keeping him safe."

"It's my job."

"Then you're very good at your job." The man turned to Sammy. "My name's Captain Jack Harkness. What's yours?

"Sammy don't really talk yet." Dean winced, Dad always said not to tell people their names.

"Well then, Sammy, it's a pleasure to meet you." He offered Sammy his hand, but Sammy just stared at it and then grabbed it to lick it. Dean thought the Captain'd be mad, but he just laughed.

"And does Sammy's brother have a name?"

"I'm not supposed to say."

"Fair enough," the Captain said, smiling. "I have men in the woods, making sure we captured all of the creatures. I radioed them our location. That way if they stumble across your dad, they can send him our way. Would it be okay if I wait with you until he shows up?" Dean shrugged. "You know, you two look a little cold, how about I wrap this big old coat around you until then?"

Summer 2005

Back in the cellar

"I remember now. You played some kind of finger game with Sammy until Dad found us. You carried me back to the car."

Harkness smiled. "I knew I was memorable!" He cocked an ear to the door. "Well, it sounds like my team's here." The door burst open, and suddenly it was so bright Dean was almost blind. "Gotta go." Harkness leaned forward to stroke Dean's cheek. "Take care of that wound, you hear?" And then he was gone.

Dean staggered to his feet a few minutes later. Limping out of the cellar he thought to himself that sometimes he met the strangest people doing his job, but he wouldn't have it any other way.