Fangfic 11

Snakes And Lizards

by DevilKat

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/asd/devilkat/fangfic11.php
Summary: Not Supplied

Teal'c

My mind is not functioning as it should when I awaken. Memories of what has happened to me are garbled and unclear, like the car radio when I am passenger with O'Neill and DanielJackson, and they are disagreeing which station produces the finer music by flipping across the dial. Back and forth, forth and back, until only chaos results and no music whatsoever, and I am near to using my staff weapon on either or both of them, or the device itself.

The chaos now in my mind is even more painful than this. But by focusing on thoughts of O'Neill, gradually my thoughts clear. I remember...

Danger. A dark brightness, beautiful and horrible. Not Gou'ald, although somewhat like them in power when seated in a host body. Yet worse than Gou'ald, for this power does not come from stolen technology.

This strength is his by rights, the creature at the door. He cannot be sundered from it so easily. The stake I presented to him met only with his astonished disdain, before he bested me with one careless touch and a thought. I think a staff weapon, even a ribbon device, would have produced the same result.

Truly, I believe Apophis himself would only have amused him.

And if I had not myself discerned his strangeness, there was the reaction of my symbiote before we both crashed into the darkness he wove around us. Astonishment, and hatred, and...fear. Terror such as I have never before felt from one of the Gou'ald race.

The videos on vampires lied. These records were not history, but "entertainment".

I have often failed to grasp this concept, that some of these record tapes are true and some false. In fact, O'Neill played his kind of joke upon me once, insisting that the "A- Team" was a real group, prepared to fight for righteous causes, nearly omnipotent in their abilities. I earned a great deal of humorous byplay when I suggested in one debriefing that perhaps we should hire them, at least for their abilities in creating vehicles of destruction from worthless scrap metal.

Yet I assumed the amusement came from my presumption that such heroes would be willing to lend aid to us. I found that I had been deceived only when I went to DanielJackson to request his assistance in composing a letter to Mr. B.A. ("Bad Attitude") Baracas, per a request for his fighting skills on behalf of SGC. My opinion of the others as useful recruits, especially of the pleasant-visaged yet deceitful one called "Face" did not bear mentioning. DanielJackson was greatly embarrassed to inform me that all of them were only "actors" playing "roles" in a television series that was no longer even in production. His embarrassment grew greater upon revealing that "Murdoch", the mentally deranged pilot, had never been a flying partner of O'Neill's at all, despite that man's blatant and long-winded tale to the contrary. Once again, O'Neill had deceived me for the sake of his own amusement.

And yet, now at this crucial point of darkness, my first thought is only to save him. At least, he has not tried to mislead me in regards to vampires. O'Neill in fact has said nothing of the species, or of his own new status among them. No, the deceitful videos came from DanielJackson, though innocently enough on his part I believe.

But I do not think either of them realizes the magnitude of the danger that weaves its dark spell about them. Perhaps about all of SG-1 soon enough.

I enter the kitchen and ascertain from the open doorway to the outer stairwell that O'Neill most likely has climbed to the roof. My intention is to follow, to warn him, protect him if I can.

However, the moment my foot touches the first step I am knocked back by a blinding force of pain. Not from the creature that I know is there in company with O'Neill—that one is perhaps aware of, but contemptuous and indifferent to, my intentions of rescue.

The wave of agony is from my symbiote, along with a flash of communication that it has never before attempted.

It seems impossible. But the embryo Gou'ald within me would rather die—and take me with it—than go anywhere near the vampire Lestat.

I have no choice, then. Perhaps at the least I can attempt to assist DanielJackson.

DANIEL

The long lightless halls are lined with mirrors. The mirrors are the doors, the windows, the only way out. Out into the night, beneath the stars. With him. Up on the roof, under the soft fire of a thousand worlds known and unknown.

Through the mirrors. The only way out of this maze...is through.

Want to get out, go further, through and out and to. Him. Can't remember names, places. Him. Can remember him, touch and voice and taste, oh taste. But not his name.

Is it even important?

Yes. Is. How to call him if no name, no word? I deal in words. Myself and him. No name. Either one. Belong together, nameless or named. Nameless here...forevermore.

Miss him so much. Part of him, inside me, how can I forget how he looks and what I called him once? How long ago?

Minutes, hours, or centuries. Can't remember.

All I can see in the mirrors is myself. The opposite of what should be seen.

No mortal was meant to know such wonder. One look in the mirror tells me so.

I know it's me. In the mirrors. Why?

Because the mirror/me looks so ...helpless.

I...AM NOT...HELPLESS! I said that once. To someone nameless. I think.

Tell it to the snake, you fool. All the snakes you've known and...hated.

Tell it to the smiling, jewel-eyed lizard.

The bastard. Thief. Even, now, stealing what's mine, who's mine, the lizard has a name too and the name is a curse, the perfect drug, absinthe and poison honey, hate the name, hate the lying stealing murdering bloody bastard

"LESTAT!"

The scream boils out of me, ripping my voice to shreds. I heard the sound of someone running through the house to me. Not the stealing, deadly one called Lestat. Another, a friend I think. Also nameless. There is only room in my mind now for one other name, besides that which tore me to pieces.

I barely have the voice left for it, but it must be said. Tasted, tongued onto the night air like a magic ward against darkness.

"Jack." Only a whisper, but it's all I can do now.

But I still believe in the magic of it.

Sleep. Must sleep. Bodies need rest. And to feed.

After sleep, to feed. To feed on everyone who's ever stolen from me.

Beginning with Lestat.

Oh, yes. Beginning with him.

JACK

"Goddammit, Lestat!"

I am so jumping back from him, pushing him away. And he lets me, lets me go. Even though I stagger a bit before getting my balance, he's smart enough not to try and help me out.

He's smart enough to know I'm really, really pissed this time. And it actually seems to bother him. "O'Neill..." He runs a hand through that blazing blond hair, spiking it up above the fallen-angel face. "Believe it or not, I didn't plan that."

"Oh, really? You're about the LEAST spontaneous guy I ever met in my life...death...whatever. But you didn't plan that." Glaring at him here. "And you didn't use any vampire whatsit powers to, to...shit! Nobody comes from just a freakin' kiss!"

Well, hell, even though I have no close neighbors I probably shouldn't be shouting this out here. But God, I am so pissed off!

"You are most...responsive."

"You are most full of bullshit! Right after casually letting me know that Danny can read minds! What's he gonna think of this little fiasco? And I heard that last mutter, you crazy bloodsucker!"

Lestat mutters something--again. And that's weird, because he's no more a mumbler than he is spontaneous. If I was to make a wild guess, I'd think he was almost as freaked by our little...encounter...as I am. And that can't be true, can it?

"I didn't quite catch that in one, Lestat."

"He may have to learn to...share." This is stated clearly enough. Rapped out flatly like a freakin' order.

I glare at him. It's hard to glare at someone who seems to be filled with and made of the moonlight that shimmers over the roof. Someone that damned gorgeous. But I manage. I do.

"I don't think Danny's the sharing kind, and come to think of it...I don't think I am either."

We look at each other, for about ten heartbeats. Or what would be that, for a freakin' human. I see tousled golden-blond hair, a face to die for suddenly expressionless rather than filled with life and glee. Body in form-fitting leather, well, we won't go there, will we? Don't know what he sees, when he looks at me.

In case he doesn't get it, I tell him. He might kill my ass for real for saying it, but what the hell. "I only let you bite me, Lestat, for one damn reason. Because I didn't wanna leave Danny. That's it. That's ALL. You deal with it. You can use your damn vampire seduction powers all over my ass. And I admit I'm easy as far as the brain thing goes. You'll get me every time you access my mind and tell me I want you. But just remember when you do it...you're doin' the Gou'ald thing. Big time. Taking someone without them really wanting you, because you know how to push their buttons...that isn't winning. That is just...pathetic."

It's...funny. Because the more I talk, the more my mind clears up. And the more I realize that what I'm saying is the truth. Or at least a kind of truth.

He...freezes. Even more than he already has. But his eyes are alive and full of blue fire, and aren't they just blazing on me? Especially when I hit the word "pathetic".

I am so toast. I think, "Ah hell, shouldn't have pissed him off. Shoulda found out all the stuff, the vampire stuff to save Danny, the Gou'ald stuff to help the SGC. Shoulda done that first. Jack, you are such an ass!"

"Jack." A very soft voice, outside myself. "You are such an ass."

I whirl around, and sort of goggle at the stairwell that leads up to my roof.

Daniel is there, at the top of the stairway. Barechested, in soft grey sweatpants I recognize as coming out of my drawer. Quiet eyes, a deep soft blue behind his glasses. He looks calm, slightly rumpled...and amused.

Smiling gently. Looking beyond me. At Lestat.

Looking at Lestat as if he's an...artifact.

It's a bit too cool up on my roof to not be wearing a shirt. And I must say, if anything could rip my mind away from Lestat in black leather, it's Daniel in blue-grey sweatpants. No shirt, those light brown nipples all peaked up by the cold. The scholarly specs riding down his nose, the tousled hair, just makes it even hotter. A sizzling clash between geek and grunt, all in one package and all mine too. Yeah, he's toned up, all trim and sleek, he's more than good. He's...edible.

Be more so with melted chocolate and crushed almonds all over that nicely sculpted chest, but hey, that's a sick old geezer's fantasy and has no place here. Especially since my weirdo imagination is seeing that chocolate start dripping right the hell down from chest to stomach and down the top of those sweatpants and beyond. Oh, yeah...and maybe some marshmallows for those nipples...

Lestat is looking back at my Danny. Not afraid, but...wary. As if he's staring at something unknown and possibly dangerous, deciding the best way to either tame it or kill it.

Daniel climbs the rest of the way up the stairs to the roof. Although it's a deck, it feels like just enough room up here for the three of us and the telescope. Barefoot, too. Shit, he's gonna freeze up here!

Danny, being a genius, manages to conserve space by moving next to me, wrapping one arm around my waist possessively. An unexpected move that damn near knocks me off my own roof once again. But hey, I'm the opposite of complaining about it. In fact I'm so damn relieved, touched and turned on all at once that it's only concern and respect for my neighbors that keeps me from bursting into song here.

I can't tell if Lestat is amused, irritated, or what the hell he thinks just by the look on his face. There doesn't seem to be any jealousy there yet; he watches Danny nuzzle possessively into my neck with perfect composure. Even watches my reaction...alright, the damned archeologist startled a soft groan out of me...without so much as a blink

"Why don't you tell us about the Gou'ald, Lestat?" Daniel sort of...purrs.

Lestat looks back at him, blue eyes locking with blue eyes.

Slowly, he starts to...smile. It's a cold, and beautiful, and very alien thing.

"Why don't I?" he says agreeably.

Daniel has gone suddenly tense against my side. But he rises up a bit, to whisper in my ear. "Jack. I heard what you said to him." A beat, something like a quick and painful breath. I feel his hand touch my rib cage, lightly. He might as well have groped me, it stirs me that much. "I'll never forget that. Never. Glad. Don't want to hurt you..."

Hurt me? What the hell? I want to voice a question but he isn't done yet.

"No matter what else happens, I love you, you're mine. I'm yours. That's it. Okay?"

"Okay," I say immediately. Because he seems to need a quick answer; I run back over what the hell I did say to Lestat and to my surprise it's good. For once, Jack O'Neill said all the right things. Gonna put a blue star on my calendar for this one. "Okay," I repeat more firmly. I am so doing the articulate thing here.

And stuck between two of the most gorgeous blonds I've ever seen in my life...I am so doing the turned-on thing as well.

It's funny, when you are what you think of as a straight male guy, and you suddenly decide that your best male friend has the best ass in town and you'd really really like to...

Well. I decided I wanted to make love to Daniel after he'd been my friend for quite awhile; I thought mainly because he was my closest friend ever, and that was the major truth of it. But after I got clued into what I wanted from him...oh, wow. Suddenly I was looking at all kinds of male butts. Every damn jarhead in the place. Even eyeing Teal'c's butt, and didn't I just hallucinate that he was looking back and wanting my weathered old ass too. So even though I just want Daniel, really, I gotta sort of...well, think about this.

I'll let them talk. They seem to need to vent, and share information, and all kindsa stuff.

Me, I'll just stand here. Enjoy all the scenery, even though all I want is Danny. Daniel Jackson, with his too-long hair falling like bright silk into his face. Daniel Jackson, glaring at Lestat as the man perches himself lightly against the railing of my upper deck, and begins his tale without further delay, in a voice of dark silk and old leather.

Dammit, I think he's laughing at both of us.

DANIEL

I hate him.

And yet...have to admit. As a tale-teller, he's...not bad. Had a few hundred or more years to practice, of course.

It's nothing to do with flair or drama, as you might expect from him. In fact, he tells the story in an almost dreamy fashion, as if he's forgotten his audience. As if this is sheer memory, pulled up for only his own pleasure.

Maybe it is.

Jack's hand is tight on mine, and I squeeze back. Look at this gorgeous blond...thing. Just as much a destroyer as the Gou'ald. And yet...so alone.

He didn't, couldn't get Jack. Probably can't get anybody, not really. Though I imagine he can fuck whom he pleases.

I won't feel sorry for him. Won't.

I'll remember who's telling this story, and remember the only thing I require from him. Want from him.

The blood of power that's inside him. That's all I fucking want, Lestat. Bet on it.

Lestat: The Tale

Let me not mince words. Your Stargate is not the only one of its kind. By now you know this. But perhaps you were not aware, of the Stargate known to myself and my brothers, those others like me.

Deep and dark it rests, beneath the gutters of Paris. Far beneath, in catacombs forgotten by man, known only to the dead. Yes, O'Neill. As you so crudely put it, there is a Stargate beneath the boneyards of France.

We called it the Circle of Stars; more often, Eater of Souls. For this truly seemed more its function. Few vampires wandered through it unless they were very old and sought some thrill this world's night did not provide. We have other ways of traveling, between places, planets and times. Ways far less crude. To go through a Stargate, for a vampire, would be like...slumming.

I will admit, I did not know about the Gou'ald until they came through the Paris gate.

I forget, what brought me there. Another useless kill, another frenzied attempt at sex gone wrong? Who knows? When you live for centuries, you forget your motives fairly easily.

I can tell you, though, that none of the vampires used it in the way you would think, to leap from world to world. And yes, Daniel, we knew of its function since before the world began.

I was sitting there. Contemplating suicide for...what hundredth time?

I didn't think of the Circle behind me, until suddenly...it lived.

It threw forth what seemed a gout of the bluest waters. The sheer beauty of it dazzled me, and I thought "To exist is perhaps not so bad."

And then, stepping forth from the circle, were a fleet of strangely dressed warriors. I had read about these people, I was charmed.

What were they, Egyptian, Babylonian? Something other? Indian, perhaps. I had no idea, but I let them take me.

They took me to their leader. Yes, O'Neill, you may laugh about that remark if you like.

His name was Vishnu, and he was a Gou'ald. He thought he was a god, of course. Idiot.

I saw him for what he was immediately, and was sickened. And saddened. Intelligence, in such a casing? No wonder he stole bodies.

No wonder, he decided that mine would fit him perfectly.

He had taken a somewhat plump and pimply fellow, to begin with. He was simply not the brightest snake in the basket. Now, though, he was excited. Saw me, wanted me.

His snake went for me. Somewhat amused...somewhat bored, not caring really...I let him do it.

It was strange, to feel another intelligence inside myself. Full of rage at the fate that made him a parasite, yet determined to live. In me. Do you wonder, why the Gou'ald so often choose the most beautiful of humans? They know their own form is hideous, and they hate it, and themselves. Yet still there is that ego, born from the knowledge of their own intelligence, which is beyond most creatures including humans.

There is nothing like shame and self-hatred mixed with arrogance, to create a monster. Believe me...I know this through sheer experience, my Colonel.

Why does your pup stare at me like that? Yes, lower those big blue eyes, boy! You know nothing, with all your learning. And if you study me with such a face again I'll rip your heart out, despite my affection for your Colonel O'Neill. Damn your sympathy, do you fondly believe I need it?

Ah, you allow me to continue? Good. His rage availed him nothing, this Vishnu. He perished horribly, poisoned by my vampire blood, trapped in my body by some swift paralysis that neither of us understood. I think except for the pain—excruciating for both of us, yet over quickly for me—I think he welcomed death, in a way. Once it was unavoidable, I think he welcomed it.

I understood damned well what he had thought to take from me, though. As soon as he had burned to a crisp inside me, I took his Jaffa. One by one, I ripped them open. It was something like a chocoholic leaping upon a box of truffles. Although their blood was not that tasty. But in a pinch, Hershey's kisses are as satisfying as Belgian dark. Daniel, perhaps, prefers gourmet coffee to that which the base offers. Yet, does he refuse the sludge?

I thought not.

And that is how you will defeat the Gou'ald, my colonel. Simply because they cannot take you now. The snakes know of our deadliness to them. They cannot kill you, and their terror of you is beyond any nightmare.

What, O'Neill?

No, you do not have to "bleed all over them" to slow them down. Stop laughing, this is serious, you fool. Would pissing on them work? Hmmm...perhaps. Shut up. Stop laughing. Stop making me laugh.

Damn you, O'Neill.

And tell your pup to stop looking at me like that before I kill him.

Next: Warriors Of The Dark II