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Title: The Bone Shared: A Tale in the Life of Ianto Jones
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chasingtides
Fandoms: Torchwood, Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Torchwood Season 2, Supernatural Season 3
Disclaimer: None of this, sadly, is mine. I am just playing in several people's sandboxes, though I think some of them are not copyrighted sandboxes.
Summary: A Torchwood employee could never have a quiet night at the pub or a normal family life. The Winchesters could never have an easy job. Connecticut was never a pleasant state.
Author's Notes Before Reading: This is semi-betaed, as I seem to be between betas. All mistakes are my own and if you feel up to the job, I'd love to take you on as a beta. As this is Torchwood and Supernatural, there are relationships of all sorts and all sorts of strange things happening. Also, Moodus Noises are, in fact, a real thing and, as earthquakes have been reported in the vicinity, I assume they are currently in action. I adore reviews and constructive criticism.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Ianto poured the brewed tea into the mismatched mugs he found in the cabinets before handing them to others, who were sitting around the table, watching each other suspiciously. Ianto made sure the counter was tidy and joined them at the table, claiming a seat between Bethan and Toshiko.
“This is Beth, Dean, and Sam. They hunt demons. This is Tosh. We catch aliens.”
“What? Aliens? Aliens don’t exist,” Sam said sharply.
Ianto sighed. “Neither do demons, in theory or science, and yet what do you do?”
“You told us you were working for the government,” Bethan said slowly. “We figured, from you and Lisa, that it was intelligence work, that that was why you wouldn’t – or couldn’t – tell us anything.”
“Well.” Ianto paused and took a long draught of his hot, bitter tea. “It is, of a sort. The motto of the original institute was, ‘If it’s alien, it’s ours,’ after all.”
Dean snorted his tea and winced, his grip tightening for a moment around his flowered mug. “That’s a crap motto.”
“Do you have a motto?” Ianto asked dryly.
“Demons?” Tosh asked, eying Dean and Bethan warily over her steaming tea. She seemed to have discounted Sam from the hunters. “Like Abaddon?”
“Demons, ghost, vampires, shapeshifters,” Sam explained from beside her. “You name it, we hunt it.”
“So you work for U. N. I. T. – or American intelligence?”
Dean laughed. Sam elbowed him in the ribs to quiet him.
“We’re more of – independent contractors,” Bethan said, “without any official affiliation. It’s more of a calling than a profession. Some people are called to be missionaries. We’re called to kill things.”
“That’s strictly illegal – religious or otherwise,” Tosh told her.
Bethan waved a hand in the air, as if to brush the legalities away. “It’s necessary.”
“They’re really not dissimilar,” Ianto began when everyone else at the table fell into silence. “We just get paid to do it.”
“You get paid to hunt?” Dean asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.
Ianto shrugged. “And file and track and any variety of other things, but yes, we get paid to hunt. It seemed like an easy choice when Lisa suggested it, getting paid to do what I already did for free.”
Dean sat back in his chair, abandoning the tea in its mug. “Damn. Wish I could have found something like that. It’d be nice to actually get paid once in a while. Aliens, huh?”
“Aliens,” Ianto replied.
“I thought they were just a story, like Big Foot or unicorns. The three big legends that stay that way: aliens, Big Foot, and unicorns,” Sam said.
Tosh laughed lightly. “Unicorns? Big Foot?”
Sam and Dean shrugged in unison.
Ianto turned to her. “I know you’ve got no reason to trust them, but you trust me. I trust Bethan; she’s my sister; she wouldn’t lie. She trusts them. That’s good enough for me.”
Tosh stared at Ianto for a moment before turning to Bethan and asking, “You said something about noises.”
Bethan nodded. “They’re known as Moodus noises. Geologists in the eighties associated them with extremely low-grade earthquakes, but were unable to figure out what was causing either the earthquakes or the sounds.”
“I’ve done some preliminary research on them,” Sam said, “but there’s nothing conclusive on the usual sites.”
“Usual sites?”
“Websites,” Sam clarified. “They’re unusually vague on the topic of Moodus noises. Usually people decide that things are one way or another, whether they’re wrong or right. But no one – folklorists, scientists, locals – seems to have an opinion on what’s going on here.”
“What are these Moodus noises, exactly?” Ianto asked, folding his hands in front of him.
“They’re just loud booming noises,” Bethan told him. “Locals have compared them to summer thunder or quarry blasts.”
“And we’re sure that they aren’t just that, thunder or illegal blasting?”
Bethan smiled a real smile for the first time since she and Dean had arrived at the cabin. She stood and went to her bag by the couch. Then she returned to the table, a sheaf of papers in hand. “Here. Patrick and I did some research before we checked it out. The sounds aren’t just scaring drunk or stoned teens. They’ve been baffling the scientific community for centuries. Even the Pequot and Narragansett tribes called this area Machimoodus. If you’re saying, little brother, that those tribes had access to dynamite in the dead of winter…”
Ianto rolled his eyes at her. “Give me those. I’ll look them over tomorrow.”
Bethan nodded and looked at her watch. “Christ, it’s late. If we want to make any kind of early hour tomorrow, we’d best be sleeping soon.” She looked around the table. “Unless there is any unfinished business?”
*
Breakfast the next day was held at the IHOP in Middletown, a town some distance from the motel. Tosh and Ianto were only just beginning their battle with the fatigue of jetlag. Bethan looked as though she hadn’t slept at all. Sam and Dean looked, if a bit rumpled, the most human of them all.
“What are the plans?” Ianto asked as they waited for their breakfast orders. He took a cautious sip of the dark coffee their waiter had poured for them into the small white ceramic mugs.
Bethan took a long sip of coffee. “Well, I was hoping to take the day off of research and,” she paused and looked as though she were reaching for words, “search for Patrick. He’s been gone a couple days now.” She swallowed dryly. “Could be that he’s dead, but he’s too smart for that. If I look, I just might find him.”
“We were thinking research,” Sam said.
Tosh yawned. “What kind of research?”
“You know, websites, the library, the normal sorts of places.”
“Why don’t we split up, we’ll cover more ground that way.”
“What?” Dean asked.
“It’s how we do it back at Torchwood,” Toshiko explained. “Usually, I search electronically and Ianto looks into the books and archives.”
Ianto nodded. “I checked last night and found where the town library is. I thought I would head over there after breakfast.”
“No way am I letting you break my laptop again,” Sam told Dean. “You can go to the library with him.”
*
The building that claimed to be the public library looked more like a brick home than any library with which Dean or Ianto was familiar. Dean drove the Impala down the road once, slowly, so they could get a good look at the building before turning around in someone’s driveway and parking behind the library.
“What are you worried about?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Dean said sharply.
“Circling the library,” Ianto told him, motioning with his hand. “And I saw you casing the restaurant this morning. You seem to trust my sister just fine, so it isn’t hunters. Law? Or other… extra-legals?”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dean huffed, adjusting his coat around his shoulders. “And this,” he motioned to the brick building, “doesn’t look like a library, okay?”
“Whatever you say.”
Dean pulled open the white washed door to the library and they were immediately greeted with the warm smell of books and the silence of a mostly empty building.
“Public library,” Ianto breathed as they stepped inside and headed to the front desk.
Dean shot him a sidelong glance.
“It’s been a while,” Ianto explained. “Back in Cardiff, we do our own research, mostly, with our own archives, and it doesn’t leave much time for our own amusement.”
“Well, it’s what we got here. The library.” Dean sounded as though there were a thousand places he would rather be.
“May I help you?” The librarian was a young woman in a light blue polo shirt, her dark hair pulled away from her face. The tag on her shirt read. “Hello! My name is,” and, below that, “May I help you find a book?” The name “Rita” was scripted into the empty space with red ink.
Dean eyed her appreciatively, but before he could do anything, Ianto told her, “Yes, actually. My cousin and I, we’re researching the Moodus noises from the eighteenth century. We figured you’d probably be the best bet for literature on the subject.”
“Moodus noises?” Rita asked brightly as she typed something into her computer. “We’ve got a small geology section down here and then downstairs we’ve got a bunch of books on the legends and, oh,” she looked intently at the computer screen, “a book about, um, something about pearls causing the sounds.” She looked up from the screen and grinned at them. “Which sounds like it’s more up your alley?”
“I think we’ll go with the legends downstairs.”
“Okay, then follow me,” she said, leading them into the main part of the library and down a flight of white stairs. “The books should be over here… Yep. Here’s a book on the, ah,” Rita read the title of the book as she pulled it from the shelf, “legends of one Dr. Steele and his amazing pearls.”
“Pearls?” asked Ianto.
Rita shrugged. “I have no idea. Do you want to look at it?”
“Why not?”
Rita handed him the book. “These two shelves cover legends and folklore, but a wide variety, not just the local stuff.” She brushed past Dean to reach the end of the shelves. “You’ll find a space with tables and chairs down here to your left if you want to look at the books there. When you’re done you can bring the books upstairs and return them at the circulation desk or drop them off at the desk with Scott down here. You can find either of us if you need any help with anything.”
“That’s great. We’ll just start looking at the books now,” Dean said tightly.
“Okay, I’ll leave you to it then.” She headed back toward the stairs, but then paused and turned around again. “Would you be interested in attending the Devil’s Hopyard Barbecue tonight? It starts at five, over at the state park. We’re raising money to help the local animal shelter – they’re getting sort of overrun with abandoned pets right now.”
“I don’t really think– ”
“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Dean interrupted Ianto. “I’m sure we can find money to donate.”
Author:
chasingtidesFandoms: Torchwood, Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Torchwood Season 2, Supernatural Season 3
Disclaimer: None of this, sadly, is mine. I am just playing in several people's sandboxes, though I think some of them are not copyrighted sandboxes.
Summary: A Torchwood employee could never have a quiet night at the pub or a normal family life. The Winchesters could never have an easy job. Connecticut was never a pleasant state.
Author's Notes Before Reading: This is semi-betaed, as I seem to be between betas. All mistakes are my own and if you feel up to the job, I'd love to take you on as a beta. As this is Torchwood and Supernatural, there are relationships of all sorts and all sorts of strange things happening. Also, Moodus Noises are, in fact, a real thing and, as earthquakes have been reported in the vicinity, I assume they are currently in action. I adore reviews and constructive criticism.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Ianto poured the brewed tea into the mismatched mugs he found in the cabinets before handing them to others, who were sitting around the table, watching each other suspiciously. Ianto made sure the counter was tidy and joined them at the table, claiming a seat between Bethan and Toshiko.
“This is Beth, Dean, and Sam. They hunt demons. This is Tosh. We catch aliens.”
“What? Aliens? Aliens don’t exist,” Sam said sharply.
Ianto sighed. “Neither do demons, in theory or science, and yet what do you do?”
“You told us you were working for the government,” Bethan said slowly. “We figured, from you and Lisa, that it was intelligence work, that that was why you wouldn’t – or couldn’t – tell us anything.”
“Well.” Ianto paused and took a long draught of his hot, bitter tea. “It is, of a sort. The motto of the original institute was, ‘If it’s alien, it’s ours,’ after all.”
Dean snorted his tea and winced, his grip tightening for a moment around his flowered mug. “That’s a crap motto.”
“Do you have a motto?” Ianto asked dryly.
“Demons?” Tosh asked, eying Dean and Bethan warily over her steaming tea. She seemed to have discounted Sam from the hunters. “Like Abaddon?”
“Demons, ghost, vampires, shapeshifters,” Sam explained from beside her. “You name it, we hunt it.”
“So you work for U. N. I. T. – or American intelligence?”
Dean laughed. Sam elbowed him in the ribs to quiet him.
“We’re more of – independent contractors,” Bethan said, “without any official affiliation. It’s more of a calling than a profession. Some people are called to be missionaries. We’re called to kill things.”
“That’s strictly illegal – religious or otherwise,” Tosh told her.
Bethan waved a hand in the air, as if to brush the legalities away. “It’s necessary.”
“They’re really not dissimilar,” Ianto began when everyone else at the table fell into silence. “We just get paid to do it.”
“You get paid to hunt?” Dean asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.
Ianto shrugged. “And file and track and any variety of other things, but yes, we get paid to hunt. It seemed like an easy choice when Lisa suggested it, getting paid to do what I already did for free.”
Dean sat back in his chair, abandoning the tea in its mug. “Damn. Wish I could have found something like that. It’d be nice to actually get paid once in a while. Aliens, huh?”
“Aliens,” Ianto replied.
“I thought they were just a story, like Big Foot or unicorns. The three big legends that stay that way: aliens, Big Foot, and unicorns,” Sam said.
Tosh laughed lightly. “Unicorns? Big Foot?”
Sam and Dean shrugged in unison.
Ianto turned to her. “I know you’ve got no reason to trust them, but you trust me. I trust Bethan; she’s my sister; she wouldn’t lie. She trusts them. That’s good enough for me.”
Tosh stared at Ianto for a moment before turning to Bethan and asking, “You said something about noises.”
Bethan nodded. “They’re known as Moodus noises. Geologists in the eighties associated them with extremely low-grade earthquakes, but were unable to figure out what was causing either the earthquakes or the sounds.”
“I’ve done some preliminary research on them,” Sam said, “but there’s nothing conclusive on the usual sites.”
“Usual sites?”
“Websites,” Sam clarified. “They’re unusually vague on the topic of Moodus noises. Usually people decide that things are one way or another, whether they’re wrong or right. But no one – folklorists, scientists, locals – seems to have an opinion on what’s going on here.”
“What are these Moodus noises, exactly?” Ianto asked, folding his hands in front of him.
“They’re just loud booming noises,” Bethan told him. “Locals have compared them to summer thunder or quarry blasts.”
“And we’re sure that they aren’t just that, thunder or illegal blasting?”
Bethan smiled a real smile for the first time since she and Dean had arrived at the cabin. She stood and went to her bag by the couch. Then she returned to the table, a sheaf of papers in hand. “Here. Patrick and I did some research before we checked it out. The sounds aren’t just scaring drunk or stoned teens. They’ve been baffling the scientific community for centuries. Even the Pequot and Narragansett tribes called this area Machimoodus. If you’re saying, little brother, that those tribes had access to dynamite in the dead of winter…”
Ianto rolled his eyes at her. “Give me those. I’ll look them over tomorrow.”
Bethan nodded and looked at her watch. “Christ, it’s late. If we want to make any kind of early hour tomorrow, we’d best be sleeping soon.” She looked around the table. “Unless there is any unfinished business?”
*
Breakfast the next day was held at the IHOP in Middletown, a town some distance from the motel. Tosh and Ianto were only just beginning their battle with the fatigue of jetlag. Bethan looked as though she hadn’t slept at all. Sam and Dean looked, if a bit rumpled, the most human of them all.
“What are the plans?” Ianto asked as they waited for their breakfast orders. He took a cautious sip of the dark coffee their waiter had poured for them into the small white ceramic mugs.
Bethan took a long sip of coffee. “Well, I was hoping to take the day off of research and,” she paused and looked as though she were reaching for words, “search for Patrick. He’s been gone a couple days now.” She swallowed dryly. “Could be that he’s dead, but he’s too smart for that. If I look, I just might find him.”
“We were thinking research,” Sam said.
Tosh yawned. “What kind of research?”
“You know, websites, the library, the normal sorts of places.”
“Why don’t we split up, we’ll cover more ground that way.”
“What?” Dean asked.
“It’s how we do it back at Torchwood,” Toshiko explained. “Usually, I search electronically and Ianto looks into the books and archives.”
Ianto nodded. “I checked last night and found where the town library is. I thought I would head over there after breakfast.”
“No way am I letting you break my laptop again,” Sam told Dean. “You can go to the library with him.”
*
The building that claimed to be the public library looked more like a brick home than any library with which Dean or Ianto was familiar. Dean drove the Impala down the road once, slowly, so they could get a good look at the building before turning around in someone’s driveway and parking behind the library.
“What are you worried about?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Dean said sharply.
“Circling the library,” Ianto told him, motioning with his hand. “And I saw you casing the restaurant this morning. You seem to trust my sister just fine, so it isn’t hunters. Law? Or other… extra-legals?”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dean huffed, adjusting his coat around his shoulders. “And this,” he motioned to the brick building, “doesn’t look like a library, okay?”
“Whatever you say.”
Dean pulled open the white washed door to the library and they were immediately greeted with the warm smell of books and the silence of a mostly empty building.
“Public library,” Ianto breathed as they stepped inside and headed to the front desk.
Dean shot him a sidelong glance.
“It’s been a while,” Ianto explained. “Back in Cardiff, we do our own research, mostly, with our own archives, and it doesn’t leave much time for our own amusement.”
“Well, it’s what we got here. The library.” Dean sounded as though there were a thousand places he would rather be.
“May I help you?” The librarian was a young woman in a light blue polo shirt, her dark hair pulled away from her face. The tag on her shirt read. “Hello! My name is,” and, below that, “May I help you find a book?” The name “Rita” was scripted into the empty space with red ink.
Dean eyed her appreciatively, but before he could do anything, Ianto told her, “Yes, actually. My cousin and I, we’re researching the Moodus noises from the eighteenth century. We figured you’d probably be the best bet for literature on the subject.”
“Moodus noises?” Rita asked brightly as she typed something into her computer. “We’ve got a small geology section down here and then downstairs we’ve got a bunch of books on the legends and, oh,” she looked intently at the computer screen, “a book about, um, something about pearls causing the sounds.” She looked up from the screen and grinned at them. “Which sounds like it’s more up your alley?”
“I think we’ll go with the legends downstairs.”
“Okay, then follow me,” she said, leading them into the main part of the library and down a flight of white stairs. “The books should be over here… Yep. Here’s a book on the, ah,” Rita read the title of the book as she pulled it from the shelf, “legends of one Dr. Steele and his amazing pearls.”
“Pearls?” asked Ianto.
Rita shrugged. “I have no idea. Do you want to look at it?”
“Why not?”
Rita handed him the book. “These two shelves cover legends and folklore, but a wide variety, not just the local stuff.” She brushed past Dean to reach the end of the shelves. “You’ll find a space with tables and chairs down here to your left if you want to look at the books there. When you’re done you can bring the books upstairs and return them at the circulation desk or drop them off at the desk with Scott down here. You can find either of us if you need any help with anything.”
“That’s great. We’ll just start looking at the books now,” Dean said tightly.
“Okay, I’ll leave you to it then.” She headed back toward the stairs, but then paused and turned around again. “Would you be interested in attending the Devil’s Hopyard Barbecue tonight? It starts at five, over at the state park. We’re raising money to help the local animal shelter – they’re getting sort of overrun with abandoned pets right now.”
“I don’t really think– ”
“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Dean interrupted Ianto. “I’m sure we can find money to donate.”
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Oh my god, I love you so much if you will! (This is going to remain a pre-Exit Wounds AU - post season two for Supernatural and between Meat and Reset for Torchwood. Obviously Tosh is a main character and Owen will make his appearances as well (this is fully plotted out and need simply be written).
If you're interested, could you message me your e-mail address?