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Title: Little Grey Men
Author: karrenia (Karen
Fandoms: Supernatural w/Stargate SG-1
Rating: PG
Characters: Sam and Dean Winchester, Vala, Cameron Mitchell
Recipient: marri421

Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Tim Kripke and the CW television network, as do the characters of Sam and Dean Winchester; they are not mine. Stargate SG-1 belongs to Gekko Film Corporation, MGM Productions, and all other producers and creators; it is not mine. Note: The story was written for marii4212 in the 2007 Supernatural Road Trip Crossover Ficathon.

“Little Grey Men” Karen

It seemed that their arrival in the state of New Mexico just happened to coincide with the annual hot air balloon festival, and much to Dean’s disgruntlement Sam had insisted that they check it out. Driving the Impala through the busy city streets Dean sweated and simmered in the heat of a mid-day sun that beat down on his back and made his shirt stick to his back.

Sam was in the passenger seat shuffling through the Rand McNally road map, fighting the air currents coming from the vents in car’s air conditioning unit. It was hot and Dean had been considering taking the car into an auto body shop to get A/C unit revamped, but all the same, he had not gone through with it, because there simply had not been time.

Get away from the debacle at the Folsom Prison had been the priority at the time and erasing their tracks from any would-be pursuers.

Sam had not objected, much, but then by now, Dean had realized that one could only push a Winchester brother in an argument so far before either they backed down or agreed to disagree, or simply collapsed in mutual exhaustion. In the back of his mind, Dean thought, “One of our more charming personality traits, I guess we got that one from our Dad. I can’t imagine dear old Mom doing that.’

Meanwhile Cameron Mitchell stood on side of a crowded intersection patiently waiting for the walk signal to come on before crossing over to the other side, Doctor Daniel Jackson stood beside him fanning himself with a recently purchased copy of the local daily newspaper.

Vala Mal-Doran had gone into a nearby store to look at jewelry, and Mitchell had felt it better not and try to prevent her from doing so. He had learned from experience that Vala had an independent wild streak that would allow, one that showed up at some of the most inconvenient and vexing times, but one that she had learned to curb when involved in critical missions; so right now if she wanted to window shop, it was best to allow her to do so.

Indicating with a slight nod that Teal’C should pull down the brim of his baseball cap to cover up the golden sigil inscribed on his forehead. They had learned from experience that the less they drew attention to themselves the better. A lot of people sported tattoos, but all the same it simply better practice to err on the side of caution.


Inside of his garage a part-time mechanic and full-time hobbyist in conspiracy theories and the proving the existence of the paranormal, sat at a folding card table working on cleaning the parts of a modified Colt .45 rifle.

Five years ago he had been part of something bigger and much more important than his mundane shop of working on and restoring old cars; keeping the world safe from ghosts and demons. At first he thought he was going crazy, but then John Winchester had come and told him that these were real, and they had to be stopped, and his mission was to fight them.

Joshua Tibbs wrote down what he could recall upon waking in a small tattered lined notebook that he kept on his end table until he had filled at least two dozen journals with notes in his own scrawled handwriting. And when that was not enough he turned to keeping files stored on his computer’s hard-drive.

The visions were not all the same, although he could not have said exactly why that should be so. Let other less informed people call him crazy, for at least the past ten or fifteen years, Joshua Tibbs had been experiencing vivid and detailed visions.

These were not simply induced by the workings of his subconscious or induced by something he should not have eaten before retiring for bed .

These were real honest-to goodness waking visions, images so real and intense that they were imprinted on his memory long after he woke up and got ready to go to work at his other paying job.

At other times, he saw battles, in those battles the fight seemed to be occurring between of a group of people clad in military gear, armed with high-tech weaponry facing off against aliens with even more advanced weaponry and space ships, attempting to save the planet from invasion, occupation, or worse.

The worse part always seemed to stop just when it seemed that the fight would go against the good guys, and he would wake up, tangled in the sheets of his bed, in a cold sweat.

Despite the lingering fear that he was losing his mind Joshua Tibbs very badly wanted to know how the visions ended.

However, despite his best efforts to force more details from his sub-conscious or the source of these visions; they simply refused to cooperate.

Dean Winchester had only heard of the man he had come to see through word of mouth and the information gleaned from other hunters at local Roadhouses.

Of course, this was the first time he could recall one based this far west, but he shrugged and guessed that even specters needed to relocate from time to time,/ After all the way Dean figured I, one particular area of the country did not have the market cornered on ghostly and paranormal haunting and the like.

“Tibbs,” are you in there. I need to speak with you.” Dean knocked on the warped wooden timbers that braced the front door and after waiting a few moments for a response invited himself in. “Tibbs, it’s Dean, Dean Winchester, we spoke on the phone, remember?”

Joshua Tibbs looked up from where had had been resting with his eyes closed and his head pillowed up his folded arms. Dean back pedaled a bit at the man’s disheveled appearance. He looked like a man being hunted rather than the one doing the hunting; he had dark circles underneath his eyes, and his hair was long and unkempt.

“Tibbs?” Dean asked, a bit puzzle and a bit worried that this had either been a big waste of time or worse, a big mistake.

“That’s me,” replied the older man. “You must be Dean Winchester, I knew your father, you look just like him, smell like him, too, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“I guess not,” replied Dean. “When you spoke to me on the phone earlier, you indicated that it was vital that Sammy and I get down New Mexico as fast as possible, because something big was going to happen here.”

“I did, and I meant every word of it,” replied Tibbs.

“Even thought we’ve never met in person, I know about your brother, and how he sees things before they happen, warning when someone might be in danger.”

“What the hell,” Dean exclaimed, folding his arms over his chest, brow furrowing in mingled anger and surprise. “There’s no way you could have known that.”

“No lie,” Tibbs replied. “Your father mentioned it would become a very real possibility, and that there might be others out there like your brother. Tibbs paused and reached up with one hand to rub his temples before adding. “I don’t know if Sam’s ability has manifested itself or not, but I can tell you from own personal experience, is that it royally sucks and it hurts like hell.”

“Look, my brother is my deal, let me worry about Sam, okay?”

“Sure, fine; whatever. “The point is that, and humor an old man’s eccentricities, and paranoid conspiracy theories, but what if, just what if, we’ve been wrong all these years, what if, there’s something more out there, something’s that is much, much worse than ghosts, ghouls, and demons?”

“You have gotta be kidding me?” Dean griped. “Pretending that I am even buying these nonsense, for instance, what would be worse than demons and ghosts, just as an example?”


Dean stared at Tibbs, wondering if he had heard the other man correctly, looking around at the clutter that filled almost every available space in the warehouse.

As Deane took a closer look he realized that in addition to the ordinary items one might find in a warehouse/workroom, and the tools of the trade of a Hunter, the room was also filled with strange looking artifacts, and something that resembled a staff with a snake-head. “Yeah, right, little green men. Next I suppose you will tell we’re under surveillance right now and they’re gearing up to launch an invasion.”’

“Actually, all my research points to the alien being grey, not green. And I have a sneaky suspicion that the United States government is aware of their existence and does not want the public to know.”

“Okay, okay, a joke is a joke, and you really had me going there for a minute, “ Dean laughed, but don’t you think that’s taking things a bit too far, huh?”


Sam woke up on a cold metallic floor with his head ringing and a dry dusty taste in his mouth like he had been chewing on a whole bag of cotton balls. It was a familiar sensation but not an entirely pleasant one. His stomach protested in no uncertain times and his muscles twitched as he slowly regained consciousness, pushing himself up by levering with his elbows.

As he slowly began to feel a bit more like himself, or at least able to sit upright, Sam realized that he was no longer in the motel room in Santa Fe, New Mexico, instead he was surrounded by sharp relief-edge four metal walls, that matched the floor. Scattered about the almost hexagonal-shaped room were half a dozen or more squat consoles.

Sam stared about Sam realized that one of the wall panels had shifted, like it was meant to be a door, and as he watched a figure came through the door and walked toward where Sam sat in bemused wonder. The thought the he might be in danger from the small four feet five figure simply had not yet entered his head. “Where the hell am I?”

Sam blinked and reached up with his hands to rub away some of then tension and strain from his eyes. It only helped a little bit, and shook his head to clear away some of the cobwebs from his mind.

“Welcome,” the small figure said in very clear, if overly-precise but quite understandable English.

“Who are you? Where am I?”

The four feet five figure was grey, that was the only way to describe him, grey from head to foot, and quite naked. “You are quite safe, let me assure you.” I am called Thor.”

“Thor, huh? Wasn’t he the Norse God of Thunder?” Sam replied.

“I see we are up on our Earth-based mythology.”

“It kind of comes in handy in my line of work,” Sam wryly replied, but I’ll have to admit I haven’t had any reason to delve deeper into that particular one.”

“If you’ll pardon me for asking, but you might wish to get to your feet. Time is short, and we have much to discuss.”

Sam shook his head, this was all just too much, the last thing that he remembered before he had fallen sound asleep in the motel room waiting for Dean to come back with dinner was fiddling with the television remote and then falling asleep fully dressed as soon as his head hit the pillow, and then waking up here, wherever ‘here’ was.

He had various dreams as a child growing up, watching movies, and somehow his idea of an first contact with a real live, honest to goodness alien, never quite seemed to work out quite this way.

Sam stood up and followed the little grey alien, Thor’s wake towards the door that he had come in from, and then they were through and in another chamber, much like the previous one except this one had a giant panoramic window that looked out on the backdrop of space.
“I guess, I really am not dreaming this, am I?

“No Sam Winchester, you are not.”

“How did you know my name?”

Thor tilted his head and gave Sam a significant look. “I have my ways,” Thor replied.

“Okay, be cryptic if you want to,” Sam sighed. “I don’t suppose that it matters that much in the grand scheme of things. If you didn’t know who I was already then you wouldn’t have grabbed me, right?”

“Affirmative,” Thor said. “Look out there, what do you see?”

“Big empty space, big black dotted with lots, and lots of stars. What am I supposed to see?”

“Think of it this way, from where you stand on any given point on the planet Earth, the sky is empty but filled with limitless possibilities. Even more so,

“What exactly are you trying to tell me?” Sam demanded.

“I sometimes forget how impatient humans are.” Thor smiled a wry twisting of his grayish lips. “And you are correct for reminding that our window of opportunity is closing. O’Neill was like you, once, but he grew out of it, and so will you.”

“Who’s O’Neill?”

“All in due time, Sam, all in due time.” Thor smiled again.

“You see, it took me the passing of a few of your stellar years to realize that you possessed the potential that I, or should I say, my people have been looking for.”

“Potential?” Sam asked, puzzled.

“Yes, and there are others like you out there, those with the gift of foresight, mostly untapped but still very much in evidence.”

“Look, let’s cut to the chase, if you’re talking about the visions, I’ll let you right here and now, that I’d rather never had them, sure I’ve been using them to help try and save people’s lives, but all they are is one massive headache.”

Thor nodded, his calm equanimity never once slipping while he listened to Sam’s tirade.
“I realize that, but given enough time you might come to accept the visions for what they are, neither a curse nor a blessing, and there are others out there who will help you on journey.”

“Oh, name one.” Sam replied folding his arms across his chest.

“Very well, your brother, for one, And a few others come to mind, but for now I must send you back, and I suspect that you will met the others I mentioned sooner rather than later.” Thor smiled again, “For now, if you will step over here, and up onto the platform I will send you back to Earth.”

“Sure, why the hell not,” Sam replied and did as he was asked.


“Sam, where the hell did you get to now?” Dean fumed as he paced up and down the length of the concrete parking lot in front of the motel. Sam’s cell-phone kept ringing and ringing but Sam did not answer.

On the periphery of his line of sight Dean thought he caught a glimpse of a shadow moving dimly outlined by the last fading rays of sunlight. Dean took his attention off trying to reach Sammy’s by phone and narrowed his eyes to see if the image would come clearer.

After a few seconds as Dean was about to give up and write it off as a product of his imagination, not enough sleep and too much time behind the wheel, the figure finally coalesced into the form of a coyote.

For a second there, Dean could have sworn that the animal’s eyes bore into his own and the expression on its face, if animals could be said to have expressions.

It was as if the creature was sending a message to Dean Winchester, telling him “I have a secret, and I want to share it with you, but only if you follow me. It does seems mightily pleased with itself for keeping that secret to itself,’ Dean thought.

His thoughts were momentarily interrupted by a gentle touch on his shoulder. Dean spun around, ready for a fight. Instead he saw a small group.

“Excuse me, but we’re from out of town and we could use some directions.”

“Sure, “ Dean replied relaxing a little bit.

“We’re looking for the house of a Joshua Tibbs, 1407 Larkspur LN, could you point us in the right direction?” The man and apparent leader of the group was tall, slender and sported a military-looking buzz-cut. To either side, there was one more man, blond and slightly shorter, another African-American man who wore a knit cap that had been pulled down almost to the bridge of his nose.

Dean thought it was rather odd to be wearing a knit cap in the sweltering New Mexico heat, because he was wearing a light cotton tee-shirt and the heat had already plastered the fabric to his skin. The other two, were women, and very attractive women at that, a blond, and dark haired brunette shading towards black, worn in two tight braids that hung low on either side of her face.

“Back that way,” Dean replied, gesturing back in the direction from which he had just come. “Don’t know what you want with the old man, but that’s your problem.”

“Actually, since you’ve just seen Tibbs maybe you could answer a few of our questions, the dark-haired man replied.

“Look, I don’t know who you guys are, and right now, I’m in a little bit of a hurry, so if you don’t mind, I’m outta here.”

The big man crossed the few steps that separated them and placed a hand on Dean’s chest and pushed him against the wall of the convenience store that was still open at this late hour of the night. “I think not.”

“What’s it to you, if you’re muggers, you’re a bit overdressed for the occasion, and

“Teal’c,’ let him go. There’s no reason to get hostile, if you’ll simply cooperate with us.”

“As you wish, sir,” the big man addressed as Teal’C replied.

“Sir, you’re military?”

“Yes, no, oh what the hell. “We looking for Tibbs, and I’m afraid the man’s gotten himself involved in matters that he shouldn’t be mucking around with.

“The next thing you’re going to tell me is that it’s a matter of national security.

“Well, yes,” the blond man said. “But you’re not at risk, so far as we know. Has you’ve noticed anything strange, things out of place, unusual weather phenomena, disappearances, and the like.”

“It’s important that we know, “ the blond main said.

“Actually, I have, my brother’s missing, and he’s not answering his cell phone, so I was saying, I’m going to go look for him.”

“He’s cute and he has a brother, hmm, this little junket just be fun after all. Here I was worried,” the dark-haired woman interrupted.

“Not now, Vala,” the dark-haired leader muttered under his breath.

“Why not, there’s nothing wrong with mixing a little business with pleasure, you have io know how to work it right,” the woman addressed as Vala grinned.

“She’s right, you should listen to her,” Dean replied, wondering if he could relax his guard and while his meeting with Jousha Tibbs had not been as productive or as informative as he might have hoped.

However, if these guys were looking to question him about his activities and research, well, Dean, thought, I may actually feel bad for the old guy, a little bit. He’s in way over his head here, after all these guys sound and look like they mean business.’


When Dean at last returned to the motel room that he and Sam had rented he found his brother lying prone on one of the beds, fully clothed, staring up at the ceiling. “Hi, Dean.”

“You disappear on me, you don’t call me to let me know where you were going, and all you can say to me when you get back, is; Hi, Dean”?

“I can’t really phrase right now exactly how it felt, but it was like some trippy acid dream trip except without the drugs and the withdrawal symptoms afterward.” Sam smiled. “There is that better?”

“No, but it’s a start.” Dean returned the smile. “Damn it, Sam, you had me worried and you know how I hate to be worried, especially about you. Do you have any idea what I had to go through?”

“No, but I expect that you’re going to tell me.”

“I get the third degree from a group of Air Force special division types, who just happened to be investigating our contact in New Mexico, Joshua Tibbs.:


“Yeah, one of Dad’s old information sources from the old days,” Dean replied and then took a deep breath. “In any case, he wasn’t much help, all he wanted to talk about was conspiracy theories and how the government is keeping the existence of aliens a secret from the rest of ordinary folks.”

“We’re not exactly ‘ordinary folks,” Sam replied, “Sounds like you went through a lot for me. You okay?”

“Just peachy, how about you?” Dean asked.


“Where did you go?”

“I think I was aboard a space ship.”

“Don’t be cute, and stop trying to yank me chain, just answer the damn question.”

“I did. No lie.”

“okay, that’s weird,” Dean said, “because I swear that big, bald black guy kept staring and staring at me, and what did they call him, oh yeah, Teal’C, with a clicky ‘k’ sound at the end of the name.” Dean cocked his head to one side thinking over the encounter with the military types. “The lady with the dark braids was pretty hot and I think she was really going for me.”’

“Nice focus, Dean.” He shrugged and added: “Among all the other hundreds of weird things that have happened to us,” Sam tilted his head back trying to relieve the pressure from the back of his neck, and only partially succeeding, alien abduction was certainly no where on the list.”

“What was it like?” Dean asked.

“Surprisingly polite,” He called himself Thor, and he said that my visions, as painful as they are to me right now, are not the curse that we’ve always assumed that they were. And there were others out there like me. I just need to find them before it’s too late.”

“I don’t know, Sammy,” Dean replied as he turned turning off the main drag and out onto the highway leading out of town.

“I’m not sure I like that sound of that. Let’s not even discuss whether or not he really was an alien, cause I still can’t wrap my head around that concept. I mean, other people out there seeing visions of folks in danger, okay that was weird.” Dean thought about it some more and then tacked on: “Well, weirder than usual for us.”

“Sounds about right,” Sam replied.


( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
Aug. 18th, 2007 08:02 pm (UTC)
Thank you so much for writing this for me, it was quite interesting.

And Thor! You worked in Thor!
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )