Disclaimer: I make no claims to the characters, universes, and/or storylines. As an old book states: "There is nothing new under the sun."
This is the first ficlet in the 3 Generations of Bastards Series. It is more of a background set up than anything, but it has it's place in the story.
Colonel Jack O'Neill leaned back in his chair and sighed. Writing mission reports was never his idea of a fun time, and considering the mission they had just been on, a mission where they had finally ran across a "Christian" society, filling Daniel Jackson with anthropologic glee, it was even more difficult to write one that didn't cast aspirations onto everyone's favorite Christian, Head of Appropriations Senator Kinsey.
While Jack normally didn't care too much exactly what Senator Kinsey thought of him and his reports, being deliberately offensive towards the man's religion, something he seemed to be very uptight about, was not worth the trouble it would cause to the program.
'Heh', he chuckled to himself, 'If Kinsey had to go through the gate on a regular basis, he'd either die quickly, become a Goa'uld, or bring about the demise of the galaxy.'
It had been a "normal" mission, normal for SG1 at least. Go through the 'gate, meet indigenous people, get threatened, get thrown in cage/jail/tied to a stake, almost die, almost become a host for a gou'ald, ect… It was almost like there was a check list.
The only thing that was kind of new on this mission was being called a demon, which brought some specific memories back to Jack of his teenage years and the vacation his mom had made the family take to England. He had met this guy, "call me Ripper", who had shown him what a real demon was.
Jack had had opportunity in his black ops career to be thankful for this early introduction to the more abnormal side of life. Looking back on the encounter, it had been about as safe as meeting a demon could probably get and Ripper had answered most of his questions.
The next time he saw one of those things, and he ended up seeing more than he ever dreamed he would, Jack had known what to do: stay out of it's way. A few others hadn't been so lucky and had shot at it, pissing it off. They hadn't survived.
Jack hadn't thought about that summer in a while, probably since the first few times he ran across something supernatural. He wondered if there was any way to look up Ripper and thank him. The advice had saved Jacks life many times.
Jack had great intentions, but three hours later, as he was finishing up his carefully worded, politically correct report, the next disaster happened and, being busy saving the world, looking up Ripper completely slipped Jack's mind.