Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 belongs to MGM Studios, Gekko Film Corporation, and its related creators and producers as do all of the characters who appear here or are mentioned, they are not mine. Supernatural is the creation of Erik Kripke and the CW television Network, again not mine. Written for crossovers100, prompt #89 she
“The Woman with One Red Shoe" by Karen
‘Awkward did not begin to describe it,’ Janet Fraiser Janet as she regarded the small gathering of people seated outside of the log cabin on the lake.
As much as she enjoyed back in the company of Jack O'Neill, Daniel Jackson, Sam Carter and Teal'C it feel just a little difficult to try to explain away her own well-documented death and by all accounts very well-attended funeral.
It was only after the embraces and the exclamations and the relief at her miraculous return from the dead had worn off, that she recalled something her father had told her, ‘everyone should have the opportunity to attend their own eulogy, especially when they’re still alive.” She hadn’t quite understood his meaning when she was a girl, but after having apparently ‘died once in the line of duty, she might just about to grasp his meeting.
In the back of her mind Janet felt a little bit angry and a little bit relieved that her memories of the circumstances that had led up to her death’ were rapidly fading from her memory.
For his part John Winchester did not seem to mind or even notice the awkwardness, but then it might have been an act. John had his own problems to deal with, but since she was no stranger to weirdness and neither was he.
For the first time in his life since losing the devastating loss of his beloved wife Mary, John Winchester allowed himself to think that maybe, just maybe that he found something good, something worth hanging onto. On the heels of that thought, John wondered if he should call his boys, just to check in on them, not that he wanted to make this into a family reunion.
Maybe that would prove to be a good thing.
****
At the side of an empty stretch of highway somewhere to the south east the objects of John Winchester's thoughts and somewhat meandering attention were occupied in coaxing, kicking and otherwise hurling verbal abuse at stubborn car engine.
The taller of the pair standing on the shoulder of the road and every now and then offering advice to his older brother.
"Dean, considering how many miles we've put on the engine, it's a wonder it never got out before this," Sam Winchester added.
"No offense, Sammy." Dean Winchester took a deep breath long enough to consider his last remark n Winchester Winchester remarked and then turned his head around and said,
"This is my baby, my car, and I will get the damn engine working again, just unless you have anything else useful to add, please, just shut up."
Just at the last second when Sam would have either felt inclined to continue the argument, knowing full well Dean’s hot-headed temper, or just drop it, the engine sputtered into a fitful kind of life. At this point, it was better than nothing, and besides they needed to get the hell out of dodge before the night grew much later.
Sam still was not completely sure they were in the clear in terms of what had happened, but as far as the authorities were concerned Dean was a prime suspect for murder, and it would not do them much good to try and convince the police and even maybe the FBI that the murder victim had actually been a skin walker, a kind of supernatural shape-shifter.
“I think it’s working now,” said Sam aloud to his brother.
“Yeah, well get in, and step on the gas,” Dean replied, “and I’ll give it a go.”
“Okay.” Sam left the side of the road and went stepped around and over to the driver’s side, opening the door and taking a seat behind the wheel, and when Dean gave the signal, he stepped on the gas pedal. The Impala coughed and sputtered and eventually responded. “Okay, we’re back in business, now get out of there, Sam. I’m driving.”
“Figures,” Sam replied with a tight smile, “But where to? We haven’t heard from Dad in months, he could be anywhere.”
Just then Dean’s cell phone rang and he reached into the pocket of his leather jacket to answer it. “Winchester here, talk to me.”’
The voice on the other end of the line was muffled and gruff, and one that Dean had not heard in a very long time, but unmistakably that of John Winchester.
“Dad!” Dean exclaimed in a muffled undertone. “Where the hell are you?”
“At a cabin somewhere in northern Minnesota,” the senior Winchester replied, and before you think to ask, I’m not in trouble, well, not the usual kind of trouble.”
Dean, in his current state of mind did not find that last remark at all amusing, and swore a blue streak. “You disappear on me, on us for months at a time, and then only call when you’ve run up against something you need our help with, and then nothing, nada, zip, and expect us to come running, at the drop of a hat! What the hell is up with that!”
“Dean, calm down. Where are you right now?” his father calmly replied.
“I dunno,” Dean shook his head, I think we’re somewhere on the interstate between Indiana and Iowa.”
“Good, then you’re closer than I thought. How so can you get to northern Minnesota?
“I’ll give you directions just as soon as I can. I’ll explain everything once you and Sam arrive.”
“Is that Dad?” Sam asked in a low whisper, hearing only snatches of the conversation and figuring by Dean’s reaction who it had to be on the other end of the line.
Sam felt more than a little ambivalent about this, as much as he wanted to find and see his father again, alive and well, he also had built a lot of anger and resentment about John Winchester’s frequent and lengthy disappearances. In the back of his mind Sam thought, “This is going to be one hell of a family reunion. I wonder what could of trouble Dad’s got into this time. Well, it won’t do any good to fret over it. I guess, we’ll soon find out.’
****
Interlude
“Janet, we need to talk,” Sam said.
“We do,” Janet agreed.
“If that’s all right with you, Sir,” Sam asked Jack O’Neill.
“I, I guess so,” Jack muttered, shrugging his shoulders.
“Emotions are pretty keyed up right now, and I think it might be best to let everyone cool down before we make any hasty decisions,” Sam added. “Besides I want to talk to Janet, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
“We’re on vacation Major,” Jack replied with a tight smile. “You don’t have to call me, Sir, and as much as I hate to admit it, you’re right.”
“This is harder than I thought it would be,” Daniel added. “Stranger, too.”
“Any stranger than your own miraculous return from the dead?” Jack could not resist teasing the younger man, since Daniel’s own death months ago and his own return.
“Yeah, I guess,” Daniel shrugged.
“There’s nothing we can do about it now,” Jack replied turning around and walking back to his chair by the dock. “Let’s get back to fishing, I for one am not leaving here until I’ve caught something.”
“At that rate, we might be here longer than our allotted week,” Teal’c chimed in.
“Funny, very funny,” Jack muttered.
John finished his call and snapped the cell phone shut. “Where’s Janet?”
“She went inside the cabin with Sam,’ Daniel replied.
“Oh,” John said and went over to take a seat on the edge of the dock looking out over the lake. “Well, I’ll just wait until my boys arrive. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
“Funny, that’s just want Sam said, too,” Daniel added with a sly wink and a nudge.
“Not helping, Daniel,” Jack muttered from his seated position. “This vacation is not turning out at all the way I expected it to. Now, I would appreciate a little peace and quiet so I can fish, do I make myself perfectly clear?”
“Yes,” a chorus of voices replied.
“Good,” Jack nodded and turned his attention to his fishing.
***
Continued in chapter 5: “Revenant”
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