Numb3rs/Supernatural Fic: Alliance, Chapter Eight/9
Title: Alliance
Author: ALEO
aleo_70
Genre: Gen
Characters: Don Eppes, Charlie Eppes, Dean Winchester, and cameo by Sam Winchester
Fandoms: Numb3rs/Supernatural - crossover
Rating: PG 13+
Warning: violence, supernatural themes, horror
Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs, Supernatural and associated characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise comes from my imagination.
Spoilers - Numb3rs: Hot Shot & Thirteen; - Supernatural: nil.
Status: Chapter 8 of 9
Wordcount (this chapter): 2104
Total wordcount: ~21,400
Summary: Investigating a series of occult related murders in Los Angeles FBI Special Agent Eppes has another encounter with Dean Winchester.
CHAPTER EIGHT
There was no point in arguing any further, the longer he did the more likely they were to be discovered or for Best to start torturing Sam if he hadn’t already. He watched for a second as Dean moved off before making his way back to his SUV as quickly as he could. After calling in to Control he was patched through to David.
“Don, I’ve been trying to call you,” David started.
Dean must have either switched his cell to silent, or more likely off altogether, Don decided. “My cell’s died. Listen, I think I’ve got a lead down here in South Central. An abandoned car repair business on South Normandie.”
“You followed up on the disturbance at Jim’s Quik Mart?” David asked. “I was calling you about that.”
“The description matches, as does the car the offender was driving. I’ve checked the area the car was last seen and there is a similar car parked at an abandoned garage between 61st and 62nd streets. Get a raid team down here, ASAP.”
There was a longish pause that had Don wondering before David came back. “The ADIC wants to know about your informant.”
There was no time for this but Don kept that out of his voice, “No go on that. David, we have to get this moving.”
“Colby’s on it.” David responded. “Where are you?”
“Just down the road, but I’m going to go back to keep an eye on things in case Best tries to get back to the car.”
“Monitor only,” David ordered, falling into supervisor mode. “SWAT is on the way.”
“Going tactical,” Don advised, letting David know he’d be on his portable radio. “3695 out.”
Moving quickly Don went to the back of his SUV and geared up, something he’d had enough practice at that he was done in a few minutes. Settling the radio earbud into his ear he relocked the SUV and headed off at a run, hoping it was not too late.
When he reached the set of abandoned buildings he forced himself to slow and move cautiously. If things had gone south for Dean he needed to keep his wits about him if he were to have any chance at intervening. Once he was back at the side of the building where they’d heard the voices he stopped and pulled his earbud out to lean his ear against the building once again. There were no voices this time but there were faint sounds that suggested there was a disturbance going on deep inside the building.
Telling himself that going into another abandoned building to attempt the rescue of a victim, much as he’d done the first time he encountered the Winchesters, was not a mistake didn’t really help but he kept moving. Backup was rolling, he just had to go in, assess the situation, maybe get Sam out while Dean had Best engaged and then see what he could do. Again he felt the ghostly pain of the needle in his neck reminding him of the need for caution. He slowed, clearing the area around him as he moved deeper inside the building. The larger floor area meant there were some dividing walls for old office space and there was no rushing this, part of Dean’s information about Best included his skill at setting mantraps. In the relatively dark building spotting such traps was not going to be easy giving him another reason to be cautious.
Even so he steadily made his way deeper into the building, around a some basic trip wire traps until he was standing over the sounds of what was clearly a fight. It was coming from beneath the wooden floor and Don cast around until he found the set of stairs heading underground to what was probably once a storage area. There was a flickering yellow glow that suggested the area was lit by candles or something other than mains power. He found himself hesitating as the thought that he really should retrace his steps so he could lead the SWAT team in around the traps crossed his mind. It was the most tactically sensible thing to do but then he heard a taunting voice and he had no choice.
“You should be dead, Dean,” the male voice taunted. “But I’m glad you found me, makes this all the sweeter. Two dead Winchesters. Rahab will be pleased.”
Dean’s painful answer cemented Don’s course. “Not ... dead yet.”
“Soon enough. But I can’t play too long; I have to finish the spell.”
“Then let’s get it on.”
“No,” a rough voice suddenly called. “Get out, Dean. Please.”
By this time Don was on the first stair tread, making his way down into the dimly lit area. By the time he’d reached the floor he’d realised that the room was bigger than he’d expected. Racks of ceiling high industrial shelving that still carried boxes blocked his view of the struggle taking place over to his right.
Don quickly moved to the shelves and peered through the gap between a couple of boxes. With the narrow field of vision he could only see a small section of the corner of the basement area. It was enough to show him the younger Winchester brother hanging bloodied and battered but conscious in chains from one of the support beams near the back wall. He couldn’t see Dean or Best. The shelves shook suddenly and he figured the two men had crashed into them and spun off. The sounds of Dean’s pain filled grunts spurred him on, there was no time to waste.
Taking a few short steps he was at the end of the set of shelves. He firmed his grip on his Glock and rolled out, gun extended as he sought a target only to find himself sent flying as the struggling pair suddenly crashed against him. The gun went one way and he went the other, his head ringing like a bell after hitting the rough concrete. Blinking and shaking his head he scrambled to his feet only to be sent flying again as a body struck him. Rolling he shoved the man off to see that it was Dean.
As Dean groaned, fresh patches of blood visible on his dress shirt, Don regained his feet and faced their opponent. He’d known Best was tall and muscular from Dean’s description but his first full view of the man had him swallowing at the man’s impressive physique, putting even Sam to shame. Don reached immediately for the backup weapon holstered against his chest.
“None of that,” Best said firmly as if scolding a child. Moving extraordinarily fast for a man his size he pulled a large handgun from the back of his jeans and fired.
Don tried to dive away but felt the punches to his chest and knew the bullets had struck home. He took a breath as he rolled on the dusty concrete and recognised the pain, the vest had caught the bullets leaving him bruised but otherwise uninjured. Making it back to his feet he pulled the backup gun free but as he starting to bring it up he knew it was pointless. Best’s aim had been true, the weapon was damaged and unusable after one of the man’s rounds had struck the Glock on the breech. There was only one thing it was good for now and winding up he let the useless gun fly in a straight pitch at the man’s head. Best once again demonstrated quick reflexes and ducked safely.
“Hanging out with feds,” Best said reproachfully. He kept his eyes on the agent as he started circling but his words were aimed at Dean. “I’d thought better of you, Dean. Besides, I thought you didn’t like playing with others.”
“Whatever it takes,” Dean retorted.
Don glanced over to see Dean back on his feet and circling the other way, increasing the distance between himself and the agent. Best would have to pick his target when he made his move, leaving the other free to counterattack. Given Dean’s condition Don let him do the talking, if the other man could draw Best’s attack Don was in a better position to take advantage of it.
“And look where it’s got me,” Best said, seemingly unconcerned at the manoeuvring and shifting his attention to Dean. “Two Winchesters and a fed. Happy days.”
“Enjoy it while you can. You bring this big bad through and he’ll make a meal out of you.”
“Oh, no Dean. We’ve got a cast iron deal but you’re not going to be around to see what happens.”
“You can’t trust demon.”
“Rahab isn’t a demon, he’s one of the fallen,” Best crowed.
That seemed to set Dean back a bit if the pause was anything to go by. “Well that explains the seals. A damned angel, as if we didn’t have enough going on.”
“Nothing you are going to have to worry about,” Best taunted. “Or Sam. But it’s gonna cost him the most.”
Dean responded to the threat against his brother with a charge. As the two men grappled Don found a number of car parts on a section of shelf and selected the closest thing to a weapon, a cam shaft. It was far heavier than the extendable batons he’d trained with but the weight also had an advantage. Closing in he saw his chance and swung the heavy car part at Best’s upper back. Best grunted and started to turn but Don was able to recover and swing again. The serial killer went down heavily and lay still.
Dean was partially caught underneath the larger man so Don worked to pull him free before dealing with Best. That was a mistake, he felt hands grab him moments after getting Dean clear and he was flung bodily aside. Landing heavily Don had the wind knocked from him and it took a few painful breaths to get some air back into his lungs. Still gasping he got himself up and saw Best was once again concentrating on Dean. Spying the cam shaft nearby Don got his hands on it and closed in on the fight telling himself that Best couldn’t sustain many more blows before he stayed down. This time as he raised the shaft the struggling men turned and Best saw what was waiting for him.
Lashing out with his incredible speed Best swung a vicious backhand at Don’s head as he tried to fend the blow off with the cam shaft. The blow connected and Don came back to himself as he rolled across the concrete. Unable to move for a moment he tried to pull himself together but the kick to his side left him once again winded and gasping for breath.
“Looks like I need to sort you out first,” Best commented. “Dean’s not up for much but for a fed you’re not doing too badly.”
Don tried to ignore the other man’s words as he worked to get the air back into his lungs for the second time in almost as many minutes.
“Ungh!” Best suddenly grunted and turned to fend Dean off. “Alright, I think I’ve had enough fun. Let’s try something else.”
Don finally got his breathing back under control and banished the dark spots at the edge of his vision. He was in time to see Dean land sprawling across from him against another set of shelves. Best pulled some chalk out of his pocket and started to draw some symbols on the floor. Dean was recovering but froze when he saw the marks Best was making.
“Not that,” Dean gasped out.
Not understanding what Dean was on about or what the symbols meant Don got himself upright and cast about for a new weapon finding himself next to same section of shelving where he’d found the cam shaft. He selected another hunk of heavy metal that fitted reasonably well into his hand. He wasn’t sure what it was exactly but the size and more importantly the weight were perfect. The first attempt may have failed but this time Best was distracted and facing away from him presenting a good target as he chanted some gibberish. Winding up as Dean started chanting something in counterpoint to Best he let fly.
Finally things were going their way, the hunk of metal found its target on the back of Best’s head and the man went down without a sound, out cold before hitting the floor. Don had seen that before however and had another piece of metal in hand as he closed in to secure him.
Next chapter ... here
Author: ALEO
aleo_70
Genre: Gen
Characters: Don Eppes, Charlie Eppes, Dean Winchester, and cameo by Sam Winchester
Fandoms: Numb3rs/Supernatural - crossover
Rating: PG 13+
Warning: violence, supernatural themes, horror
Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs, Supernatural and associated characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise comes from my imagination.
Spoilers - Numb3rs: Hot Shot & Thirteen; - Supernatural: nil.
Status: Chapter 8 of 9
Wordcount (this chapter): 2104
Total wordcount: ~21,400
Summary: Investigating a series of occult related murders in Los Angeles FBI Special Agent Eppes has another encounter with Dean Winchester.
CHAPTER EIGHT
There was no point in arguing any further, the longer he did the more likely they were to be discovered or for Best to start torturing Sam if he hadn’t already. He watched for a second as Dean moved off before making his way back to his SUV as quickly as he could. After calling in to Control he was patched through to David.
“Don, I’ve been trying to call you,” David started.
Dean must have either switched his cell to silent, or more likely off altogether, Don decided. “My cell’s died. Listen, I think I’ve got a lead down here in South Central. An abandoned car repair business on South Normandie.”
“You followed up on the disturbance at Jim’s Quik Mart?” David asked. “I was calling you about that.”
“The description matches, as does the car the offender was driving. I’ve checked the area the car was last seen and there is a similar car parked at an abandoned garage between 61st and 62nd streets. Get a raid team down here, ASAP.”
There was a longish pause that had Don wondering before David came back. “The ADIC wants to know about your informant.”
There was no time for this but Don kept that out of his voice, “No go on that. David, we have to get this moving.”
“Colby’s on it.” David responded. “Where are you?”
“Just down the road, but I’m going to go back to keep an eye on things in case Best tries to get back to the car.”
“Monitor only,” David ordered, falling into supervisor mode. “SWAT is on the way.”
“Going tactical,” Don advised, letting David know he’d be on his portable radio. “3695 out.”
Moving quickly Don went to the back of his SUV and geared up, something he’d had enough practice at that he was done in a few minutes. Settling the radio earbud into his ear he relocked the SUV and headed off at a run, hoping it was not too late.
When he reached the set of abandoned buildings he forced himself to slow and move cautiously. If things had gone south for Dean he needed to keep his wits about him if he were to have any chance at intervening. Once he was back at the side of the building where they’d heard the voices he stopped and pulled his earbud out to lean his ear against the building once again. There were no voices this time but there were faint sounds that suggested there was a disturbance going on deep inside the building.
Telling himself that going into another abandoned building to attempt the rescue of a victim, much as he’d done the first time he encountered the Winchesters, was not a mistake didn’t really help but he kept moving. Backup was rolling, he just had to go in, assess the situation, maybe get Sam out while Dean had Best engaged and then see what he could do. Again he felt the ghostly pain of the needle in his neck reminding him of the need for caution. He slowed, clearing the area around him as he moved deeper inside the building. The larger floor area meant there were some dividing walls for old office space and there was no rushing this, part of Dean’s information about Best included his skill at setting mantraps. In the relatively dark building spotting such traps was not going to be easy giving him another reason to be cautious.
Even so he steadily made his way deeper into the building, around a some basic trip wire traps until he was standing over the sounds of what was clearly a fight. It was coming from beneath the wooden floor and Don cast around until he found the set of stairs heading underground to what was probably once a storage area. There was a flickering yellow glow that suggested the area was lit by candles or something other than mains power. He found himself hesitating as the thought that he really should retrace his steps so he could lead the SWAT team in around the traps crossed his mind. It was the most tactically sensible thing to do but then he heard a taunting voice and he had no choice.
“You should be dead, Dean,” the male voice taunted. “But I’m glad you found me, makes this all the sweeter. Two dead Winchesters. Rahab will be pleased.”
Dean’s painful answer cemented Don’s course. “Not ... dead yet.”
“Soon enough. But I can’t play too long; I have to finish the spell.”
“Then let’s get it on.”
“No,” a rough voice suddenly called. “Get out, Dean. Please.”
By this time Don was on the first stair tread, making his way down into the dimly lit area. By the time he’d reached the floor he’d realised that the room was bigger than he’d expected. Racks of ceiling high industrial shelving that still carried boxes blocked his view of the struggle taking place over to his right.
Don quickly moved to the shelves and peered through the gap between a couple of boxes. With the narrow field of vision he could only see a small section of the corner of the basement area. It was enough to show him the younger Winchester brother hanging bloodied and battered but conscious in chains from one of the support beams near the back wall. He couldn’t see Dean or Best. The shelves shook suddenly and he figured the two men had crashed into them and spun off. The sounds of Dean’s pain filled grunts spurred him on, there was no time to waste.
Taking a few short steps he was at the end of the set of shelves. He firmed his grip on his Glock and rolled out, gun extended as he sought a target only to find himself sent flying as the struggling pair suddenly crashed against him. The gun went one way and he went the other, his head ringing like a bell after hitting the rough concrete. Blinking and shaking his head he scrambled to his feet only to be sent flying again as a body struck him. Rolling he shoved the man off to see that it was Dean.
As Dean groaned, fresh patches of blood visible on his dress shirt, Don regained his feet and faced their opponent. He’d known Best was tall and muscular from Dean’s description but his first full view of the man had him swallowing at the man’s impressive physique, putting even Sam to shame. Don reached immediately for the backup weapon holstered against his chest.
“None of that,” Best said firmly as if scolding a child. Moving extraordinarily fast for a man his size he pulled a large handgun from the back of his jeans and fired.
Don tried to dive away but felt the punches to his chest and knew the bullets had struck home. He took a breath as he rolled on the dusty concrete and recognised the pain, the vest had caught the bullets leaving him bruised but otherwise uninjured. Making it back to his feet he pulled the backup gun free but as he starting to bring it up he knew it was pointless. Best’s aim had been true, the weapon was damaged and unusable after one of the man’s rounds had struck the Glock on the breech. There was only one thing it was good for now and winding up he let the useless gun fly in a straight pitch at the man’s head. Best once again demonstrated quick reflexes and ducked safely.
“Hanging out with feds,” Best said reproachfully. He kept his eyes on the agent as he started circling but his words were aimed at Dean. “I’d thought better of you, Dean. Besides, I thought you didn’t like playing with others.”
“Whatever it takes,” Dean retorted.
Don glanced over to see Dean back on his feet and circling the other way, increasing the distance between himself and the agent. Best would have to pick his target when he made his move, leaving the other free to counterattack. Given Dean’s condition Don let him do the talking, if the other man could draw Best’s attack Don was in a better position to take advantage of it.
“And look where it’s got me,” Best said, seemingly unconcerned at the manoeuvring and shifting his attention to Dean. “Two Winchesters and a fed. Happy days.”
“Enjoy it while you can. You bring this big bad through and he’ll make a meal out of you.”
“Oh, no Dean. We’ve got a cast iron deal but you’re not going to be around to see what happens.”
“You can’t trust demon.”
“Rahab isn’t a demon, he’s one of the fallen,” Best crowed.
That seemed to set Dean back a bit if the pause was anything to go by. “Well that explains the seals. A damned angel, as if we didn’t have enough going on.”
“Nothing you are going to have to worry about,” Best taunted. “Or Sam. But it’s gonna cost him the most.”
Dean responded to the threat against his brother with a charge. As the two men grappled Don found a number of car parts on a section of shelf and selected the closest thing to a weapon, a cam shaft. It was far heavier than the extendable batons he’d trained with but the weight also had an advantage. Closing in he saw his chance and swung the heavy car part at Best’s upper back. Best grunted and started to turn but Don was able to recover and swing again. The serial killer went down heavily and lay still.
Dean was partially caught underneath the larger man so Don worked to pull him free before dealing with Best. That was a mistake, he felt hands grab him moments after getting Dean clear and he was flung bodily aside. Landing heavily Don had the wind knocked from him and it took a few painful breaths to get some air back into his lungs. Still gasping he got himself up and saw Best was once again concentrating on Dean. Spying the cam shaft nearby Don got his hands on it and closed in on the fight telling himself that Best couldn’t sustain many more blows before he stayed down. This time as he raised the shaft the struggling men turned and Best saw what was waiting for him.
Lashing out with his incredible speed Best swung a vicious backhand at Don’s head as he tried to fend the blow off with the cam shaft. The blow connected and Don came back to himself as he rolled across the concrete. Unable to move for a moment he tried to pull himself together but the kick to his side left him once again winded and gasping for breath.
“Looks like I need to sort you out first,” Best commented. “Dean’s not up for much but for a fed you’re not doing too badly.”
Don tried to ignore the other man’s words as he worked to get the air back into his lungs for the second time in almost as many minutes.
“Ungh!” Best suddenly grunted and turned to fend Dean off. “Alright, I think I’ve had enough fun. Let’s try something else.”
Don finally got his breathing back under control and banished the dark spots at the edge of his vision. He was in time to see Dean land sprawling across from him against another set of shelves. Best pulled some chalk out of his pocket and started to draw some symbols on the floor. Dean was recovering but froze when he saw the marks Best was making.
“Not that,” Dean gasped out.
Not understanding what Dean was on about or what the symbols meant Don got himself upright and cast about for a new weapon finding himself next to same section of shelving where he’d found the cam shaft. He selected another hunk of heavy metal that fitted reasonably well into his hand. He wasn’t sure what it was exactly but the size and more importantly the weight were perfect. The first attempt may have failed but this time Best was distracted and facing away from him presenting a good target as he chanted some gibberish. Winding up as Dean started chanting something in counterpoint to Best he let fly.
Finally things were going their way, the hunk of metal found its target on the back of Best’s head and the man went down without a sound, out cold before hitting the floor. Don had seen that before however and had another piece of metal in hand as he closed in to secure him.
Next chapter ... here