Rewriting the Rules, Chapter 4/? (PG-13, Gen)
link back to Chapter Three
Chapter Four
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Tuesday
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Everyone was quiet the next morning. Gibbs didn't even comment on the new coffee maker. Tony knew he'd throw it out after the Winchesters left, but he was grateful for it while it lasted.
"DNA results should be in around noon," his boss said on his way out. "I'll call you." Tony stood staring at the door after it closed, lost momentarily in thought.
Sam cleared his throat and waited for Tony's attention. "I have phone numbers for almost half the people on the list. The rest would need access to government databases to narrow down, but I figure Gibbs can handle that if you want."
"Yeah," Tony agreed, moving them into the living room. "Might as well get started. Who's first?
"Haley Collins in Grand Junction, Colorado. Her brother was abducted on a campout by a wendigo. It's a strong, fast, immortal monster that used to be a plain old human cannibal. Oh, um, that doesn't sound very scary, so just ask Haley for the civilian perspective," Sam suggested.
"Aren't you two civilians?" Tony pointed out.
"That's what hunters call you normal folk who don't know about the things that go bump in the night," Dean grinned.
"She'll probably remember you better," Sam told his brother, handing him the sheet with her number on it.
Pulling out his phone and dialing, Dean looked a little nervous. "Never done this before," he explained to Tony while it rang. "Hi. I'm calling for Haley? Oh . . . uh, can I talk to your mommy? Yeah, can you give her the phone? Thanks." Dean rolled his eyes at his amused audience.
"Hi, Haley? This is Dean, from-- Do you remember a few years ago when Tommy went missing on a camping trip? Me and my brother went after him with you . . . . Yeah, the guys who lied about being Park Rangers. Sorry about that. Listen, I hate to bring up a painful memory, but I kind of need your help. . . . Thanks. See, I've got this new friend who I'm trying to protect from another monster, only he doesn't believe me that the thing's even real. I was hoping if he talked to someone else who knows I'm not crazy . . . . Yeah, that'd be perfect. Here he is."
Tony took the phone, not sure which way he was hoping this would go. "Hello? Haley, right? I'm Tony."
"Hi, Tony. So I hear you have a monster problem."
"So I hear you think they're real," he returned seriously.
"Well, when one tries to eat your big brother, it's hard not to. The thing killed three other people I knew and chased all of us around in this mine before Sam killed it. With a flare gun, of all things."
"Did you actually see it with your own eyes?"
"Oh, yeah. It was dark, but not dark enough. It looked human mostly, but it was too fast. Like . . . Clark Kent kind of fast."
"So you're *sure* it wasn't human?"
"Absolutely. To tell you truth, I still have nightmares about it sometimes."
"And Sam and Dean? Would you trust them again?"
"They seemed sort of suspicious to me from the start, but everything made sense later. I wish I had listened to them more. They knew what was really going on when I was just making it worse. Look, I don't really know them well, and I wouldn't let them babysit my kid or anything, but I would trust them to keep my family safe again. If they say something's after you, then you should believe it."
"Okay. Thanks, Haley."
"You're welcome. Can I say bye to Dean?" Tony gave the phone back.
"Thanks for that," Dean told her. Whatever she replied, it took a minute before he said, "You're welcome." Smiling, he added, "Now go teach your munchkin not to answer the phone or talk to strangers. . . . Yeah, see ya."
"One down, couple dozen to go," Sam grinned.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When Sam's phone rang a few hours later, he glanced at the caller and handed it straight to Tony. Taking a deep breath, he answered, "DiNozzo."
"It matches," Gibbs said flatly.
"Damn," he sighed.
"They clear?"
"Huh? Oh. Yeah."
It was silent for a few beats.
"I'll bring pizza for dinner."
Strangely, that was when Tony started to feel choked up. "Thanks," he said. The extra second before Gibbs hung up was a show of support that was appreciated.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The day passed slowly. By 4:30, Tony was worn out from talking to people who had lost loved ones but thought the Winchesters hung the moon.
"Come on," Dean said when they had finished with the last number. He led them to the backyard, and this time they both stripped off their weapons. "You need to blow off some steam," was all Dean said as they walked to the grass.
Tony didn't hesitate, just immediately threw a no-holds-barred punch at Dean's jaw. It ended up deflected, but just barely. Letting all his frustration out, Tony didn't keep anything back as he went after Dean, landing an occasional blow. The hunger didn't seem to mind, but he made Tony work hard for it. There was plenty of anger eager to be channeled into violence, thinking about how his old life wasn't coming back. How all those other people's families got hurt. How all this time, the criminals he worked to put away were small potatoes next to the things in the Winchesters experienced. How mad he was at his own impotence to change the past week.
He didn't know how long it went on, but they were drenched in sweat and the sun had dipped below the top of the fence when Dean held up a timeout signal. "Is that pizza I smell?"
Gibbs had arrived, and Sam was already eating a slice from where he sat watching. Tony walked over to take the box Gibbs held out.
"Giovanni gave me yours for free. Said he'd never believe you were guilty, and that it was nice of the team to keep ordering your favorite."
Tony blinked. "Wow," was all he could answer.
Gibbs went back inside and returned with four beers. He smiled at seeing both Tony and Dean still standing, cramming slices down like it was a contest. Sitting in the chair beside Sam, he said, "Are you sure you can handle them both?"
Looking up to see what Gibbs meant, Sam laughed ruefully. "Oh, God. They really are two peas in a pod." Then he sobered. "We haven't actually discussed it yet," he raised his voice for the others to hear, "but Tony *is* welcome to come with us if that's what he wants. At least until he figures out something he'd rather do."
"Where are you going next?" Gibbs asked.
"Tomorrow we'll hit the news websites and obituaries, looking for anything that stands out as unnatural. Whatever's closest or most urgent is how we usually decide."
"You can tell from the paper what kind of creature will be there?" Gibbs sounded more curious than skeptical, having shelved his own doubts for Tony's sake.
"I wish," Sam scoffed. "When we get to town we talk to any witnesses, get a look at the dead body or property damage, go see the crime scene, stuff like that. Probably a lot of what you do, only with more time in the library."
"What's in the library?" asked Tony around his mouthful.
"It's brutal, man." Dean grimaced. "Gotta dig through decades of records and archives to find patterns. Helps us determine what we're dealing with. How far it goes back."
Tony looked back over and saw a new expression on Gibbs' face. "What are you thinking, boss?"
Turning to Sam, the older man said, "Take us with you on your next hunt."
"What?!" Sam looked at Dean, expecting him to object, but his brother considered it for two seconds and just shrugged. "Dean, you know how dangerous that is."
"I think they can handle it. And if it turns out to be something big, they can stay out of the way and wait for a simpler one."
"Boss, are you sure?" Tony stammered out.
"Only way I'll ever believe it is with my own two eyes. And I'm sure not gonna let you go off with them until I can trust them to take care of you."
"Oh, for crying out loud," Tony objected, offended. "I can take care of myself, you know."
"I can't just *stop* watching your back, DiNozzo," Gibbs barked, covering the sentimental value with gruffness.
Dean spoke up. "You two have to swear to follow our lead," he warned.
"Rule thirty-eight," Gibbs agreed easily. "You're the experts here."
"That reminds me, Sammy. We gotta write down all the things Dad taught us about hunting and number them for Tony."
"What?"
"But then I might get them confused," Tony grinned. "Let's make yours alphabetical instead." That got a chuckle out of everyone.
"One nerd on a hunt is plenty," said Dean. "You can alphabetize your own crap, dude. Leave me out of it."
Sam opened his mouth to say something, but Dean threatened him with a glare and a finger pointed his way. Deciding it the jibe wasn't worth the retaliation, Sam shrugged.
"First rule is always stay sober while hunting. Not the first thing Dad taught us, but it came with the strongest punishment," Dean grinned at Sam.
"Which took you what, *three* times to learn?" his brother teased.
"Beat sitting around watching you study all the time, princess. Anyway, second rule is no chick flick moments, of course. Third . . . don't disappear."
"Dean, come on."
"I mean it, Sam! Bad things always happen when one of us gets cornered alone."
"We need space, Dean."
"I didn't say joined at the hip!"
Tony cut in. "Shame you never learned Gibbs' rule three: never be unreachable."
"Huh," said Dean. "That's good. We'll take it."
"Guess we old dogs are gonna teach you young pups some new tricks after all," Tony grinned. "Starting with not leaving your fingerprints at crime scenes."
Gibbs reached over and mimed a headslap for Sam that didn't actually make contact. "Always, always wear gloves," he lectured.
Sam's jaw dropped at seeing this side of Gibbs' personality, while the other two snickered.
"Yes, sir," Dean accepted the advice. "Don't worry, Sam. I'll find you some pink ones."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Won't the team be worried about you if you're not pulling twenty-hour days right now?" Tony wondered later when he and Gibbs were down in the basement again.
"They think I'm hovering over Fornell's shoulder right now."
"Won't Fornell think it's strange that you're not?"
"I told him I was too busy drying Abby's tears."
"Aww, that's just cold, boss."
"Maybe, but it gets me left alone for now."
Tony shuffled into a more comfortable perch on the counter. He had showered and was back in borrowed clothes.
"When do you think you can sneak some of my stuff out?"
"Months, on a case this big. Could be years."
"I was afraid of that. Just . . . get my personal stuff . . . eventually."
"Does that include all ten thousand of your DVDs?" Gibbs smiled.
"Actually, there's not much I'm really gonna want. A few pictures. Oh hey, is there a funeral?"
"Ziva said she'd handle it. It's Thursday, I think."
"Could you take a picture of the team? Put a copy on the coffin or something, but print another for me?"
"Yeah, we can do that. Not sure anyone will be able to smile. They're pretty torn up."
"I hate not telling them the truth."
"Only way to keep the secret."
"Rule six, I know. Still hate it."
"Yeah. Maybe someday?"
"When they've already dealt with it and moved on? No, that'd be even harder on them. And I don't think they'd ever forgive *you*."
The silence they fell into was comfortable, the clock ticking peacefully. It had taken the two of them a long time to get to this place in their friendship, and Tony tried to enjoy the time together now, knowing it was on the clock.
"So what did you find out today?" Gibbs eventually asked.
"That Sam and Dean didn't know they had such a big fan club."
"Really? They don't seem all that shy."
"Apparently rule nineteen is already on their radar. Most of the time they don't stick around long enough to get blamed for the monster's kills. Or to let the people they saved say thank you."
"Then what do they get out of it?"
"I don't know. Their dad was in it for revenge. I think the boys just feel obligated, maybe. There's a lot of personal stuff they don't want to talk about."
"But you trust them." It wasn't a question.
"Yeah, I do. But thanks for volunteering to come along on a test drive."
"Been a long time since we were rookies." They exchanged smiles.
"Did you know their shotguns are loaded with salt?" Tony said.
"Now see, that right there is why I'm coming along to watch your six."
"It's crazy, I agree. But I talked to a few people today who said the Winchesters poured salt on the floor in a circle around them. That's even funnier than salt ammo, but no one was laughing. And God help me, I still believe them. All these years of learning to read people, and I get sucked in by one of the FBI's *dead* most-wanted." he shook his head.
"Don't stop trusting your gut now, DiNozzo. Besides, they've suckered me too."
"I thought you only trusted them because I did."
"I didn't trust them, I trusted *you*. But they're growing on me."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Wednesday
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Tony woke up in the master bedroom. It wasn't a sight he was familiar with, and it took him a moment to remember he was at Gibbs' house. And why.
The clock on the nightstand said 8:36, and he was surprised no one had bothered to wake him up yet. He frowned and headed down to the kitchen. Sam was sitting at the table with his laptop, a plate with a banana peel left beside it.
"Dean put some pancakes in the fridge for you."
"Thanks. Is he not here?"
"Walked back to the store to buy you some hair dye."
"Oh."
"Sorry, man," Sam winced.
"It's okay," Tony said, trying to convince himself. "I know it's necessary."
Sam watched as Tony poured himself some coffee and reheated the pancakes.
"You know, me and Dean lie about who we are every day. It gets easier after a while."
"That won't be a problem. I have a lot of experience undercover. One of those jobs lasted nearly a year. Being someone else, I can handle."
"You look like you're eating lemons," Sam disagreed.
"Just realizing there's no eleventh-hour rescue here. My old life is really . . . my *old* life."
Sam left him alone after that.
Dean came back when Tony was almost finished cleaning up. He tossed over a bag that felt surprisingly heavy. "What's all this?"
"Who knew hair color was so complicated? I got some chick there to tell me what we need. First you're gonna try bleach blonde. There's a separate box for your hair and your beard. She said either was fine for your eyebrows. I tossed in some black dye too, if that doesn't look different enough. There's also special shampoo for making the color last longer, and something called dry shampoo because you're not supposed to wash it every day."
"Ugh. I hope it all came with instructions."
"Oh, and she said to double up on the gloves."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"I dunno."
"You wear them to protect your hands," Sam said absently without looking away from his screen. "They come in the box."
"Sammy, you are such a girl."
"When you live in a co-ed dorm, you learn a few things."
"Great. So you can buy your own tampons when your period starts."
"Bite me, jerk."
"Bitch."
Tony smiled in spite of his grumpy mood. "Sorry, Sam, but I think you're the only one qualified to help me out with this."
"What? No way. It can't be that hard. Just read the directions."
"But what if I miss a big spot on the back of my head?" Tony pouted.
Dean smirked. "You have a little brother, I take it?"
"I didn't growing up, but I have for the past eight years. He's a geek, too."
"Older siblings?"
"Not unless you count Gibbs. But we can compete for who had the saddest childhood later. Sam, I really would appreciate your help. And I'll promise not to tease you about it?"
He shook his head, though. "Not good enough."
"Okay, how about I take your side next time Dean's a jerk?"
"Hey!"
"For a week," Sam countered.
"Deal," said Tony. He tossed the bag to Sam, who started pulling out the boxes to read the directions.
"Cheater," Dean complained, but with a smile.
The actual process turned out to be quite comical. When the dye started dripping everywhere, Sam barked frantically at Dean to quickly wipe it up. He ended up standing guard with a roll of paper towels until they were done. Tony had to strip his borrowed pants off without moving his head. Dean refused to help when Sam wanted his removed from the scene, and all three of them knew their shirts were gonners. Finally Tony pulled his shirt up around his neck to catch any remaining drips and went up stairs to take a shower. Both Winchesters laughed at him walking around in just socks and tighty-whities until he reminded them it was borrowed from Gibbs, who would truly love to hear about their opinion of his underwear choices.
When he came back down, they were running a load of laundry, and all the windows were opened.
"How do I look?" he asked.
They eyed him critically. "Pretty different," said Sam.
Dean added, "It'll be fine once your hair grows out. Spike it up or something now. We'll pick you up some reading glasses, too."
Knowing where Gibbs kept an extra pair in the basement, Tony retrieved them before looking in the mirror again. He barely recognized himself. Still, it would be good to get away from the northeast soon, just to be safe from bumping into an acquaintance. It occurred to him then that a few accessories like one of Abby's dog collars would be effective, maybe some tattoos.
"Let's hit a Goth store on our way out of town," he suggested as he came back into the kitchen.
"That sounds good," said Sam. Dean was standing over his shoulder, reading something on the laptop.
"Find something?"
"Maybe," was all Dean offered. "Our parameters are narrower than usual. Don't want to waste Gibbs' time or go after something too heavy."
"Your lead," Tony deferred instead of arguing that he could handle it.
Dean looked at his watch. "Wanna go do a little target practice?"
Tony raised one eyebrow. "My scores on the range are fantastic."
"What weapons?"
"Mostly my Sig. Rifles too, sometimes."
"Ever used a shotgun?"
He had to shake his head. "Everything but that," he admitted.
"Let's go, then."
Sam stayed behind, and Tony directed Dean to a secluded spot not far outside the city. It had been a crime scene a few years ago, so he knew there weren't any neighbors to hear the noise. Riding shotgun even with his new hair and borrowed sunglasses made Tony uneasy, so when they stopped he was more than ready to blow something away, even if it was just cans on a fence.
It took less than an hour for Tony to prove his aim to Dean.
On the way back they stopped at a gas station. Tony had to wait in the car, but he got a new disposable cell phone for his patience. He knew he couldn't give the number to anyone besides Gibbs, Dean, and Sam, but it was good to feel even that much connected to the world again.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
They ate lunch in front of the tv at Gibbs' house. Painful as it was, Tony wanted to find out what the media was saying about him, and Sam and Dean thought it was good intel for determining how best to disguise their future hunting partner. Most of the content was still speculation, but now they had clips of interviews with neighbors and old friends repeating what a shock it was because Tony was such a great guy. Those were uncomfortable to watch.
After a while, Sam pointed out, "They keep calling you Anthony. Maybe you can keep going by Tony."
"Not yet," Dean said. "But yeah, after your hair's grown out."
"So I just pick another name out of a hat?" said Tony distastefully.
"Toby? Tommy? Something easy to keep for a couple months."
"This is crazy. Insane," he laughed. Maybe he was finally going to have that breakdown.
Sam clapped a supportive hand on his shoulder before leaving the room. They could hear his laptop booting up in the kitchen. Probably going back to looking for something to hunt. With Tony and Gibbs. They were actually going to find some dangerous monster that a whole squad of Marines wouldn't be able to dent, and eagerly take it on by themselves. Which usually meant just the two of them. It was crazier than insane.
At the next commercial break, Dean cleared his throat. "You do have other options, man."
"None of them are any better," Tony admitted.
"All of them are safer."
"That might be even weirder. I've been a cop for too long."
"What were you gonna do when you retired?"
Tony shook his head. "Never thought about it seriously. Figured that was too far down the road. I'd have rather been the oldest active NCIS agent of all time, maybe training the probies. As risky as it's been on the front line team, the odds were against living to retirement anyway. Didn't see the point in making plans for nothing."
They watched Wolf Blitzer for a long time. The most popular theory heard from the various 'experts' was that Anthony DiNozzo was getting revenge for some past transgression committed by one of the victims, the others being merely in the way.
"That's our best guess too," Dean spoke up at one point.
"Huh?"
"Sam and I are pretty sure the 'shifter was going after the guy who killed the one in Baltimore. Since it was so gung-ho on solving that case, remember? Guess it was a family member or something. It must have finally figured it out with your access to national databases or files or whatever. Held one of the vics responsible; the rest were probably just for kicks or to cause more chaos for its escape. Who knows. But we think revenge was the reason."
"That makes sense," he agreed. "I wonder if the FBI will find something incriminating on my computer," Tony wondered glumly.
Dean looked awkward for a moment, like he didn't know what to say. It broke when he announced it was past time for an afternoon snack. He and Sam made a mild racket in the kitchen for a few minutes before one of them sat a plate in his lap.
Tony ate absently, trapped by the nightmare on tv.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Nothing changed before Gibbs came in around seven with Chinese. He had texted Sam beforehand about working late, but Dean took the phone outside and called back to say that Tony was on the edge of a serious freak-out. Plans were changed accordingly.
When the tv suddenly shut off, Tony looked up and saw his boss thrusting a box and chopsticks in his face. He opened his mouth to say "not hungry" before remembering it was pointless to argue with Gibbs. And then he remembered Gibbs wasn't his boss anymore.
Tony started eating quickly, hoping to swallow the lump in his throat before it formed.
Gibbs just sat on the other end of the couch and ate his own, which made Tony feel so fond and grateful that the struggle got worse, and his eyes watered despite his best efforts. But they both ignored it and kept eating.
"Beer," Tony explained as he left for the kitchen. Sam and Dean weren't around, and Tony realized how late it was and how out-of-it he'd been. There weren't any extra boxes of takeout on the counter, so they must have--
And then he saw it.
On top of a small stack of files beside the empty plastic sack from China Cho's was an 8x10 of their team.
Abby's biggest smile demanded attention first, but her eyes were shockingly unfamiliar without black liner or mascara. Red, like she'd been crying instead of sleeping for the past three days. Tony's watered in sympathy.
Ducky, beside her, wore a solemn expression. He knew how to handle loss, but Tony still wished he could spare the older man from this pain.
Jimmy and McGee in the middle, both with the kind of forced smiles worn by young kids in school portraits. Tony ached with the words he'd never get to say to them. Both men were the first friends he'd ever had that weren't from the jocks' table. They had so little in common with him outside of work that Tony still couldn't understand how he had come to feel such deep affection for either young man. But he did, and they would never know how much they had made him a better person for breaking down his stereotypes.
Ziva smiled like Mona Lisa. Mysteriously, like their instinctive flirting had always been. He never knew how serious she took it. His heart hurt for her, knowing the pain she must be enduring privately because another friend had died. But it made him crack a smile to think they'd both always wonder what could have happened without rule twelve.
Gibbs was on the end, with a face so calm that Tony's knees nearly buckled at the sudden insight. The team was going to be okay and get through this, because *Gibbs was going to be okay.* If it hadn't been for Sam and Dean rescuing Tony from that sewer before he died without water, Gibbs would have run himself into the ground trying to find out why Tony became an insane killer overnight. It would have crushed him, Tony realized. And the other five people in the photograph would have never recovered from losing them both.
He and Gibbs weren't best buddies the way Tony had measured friendships in the past. But they were closer in the ways that mattered. Tony had never admired anyone so much, and he was only too aware that no one else had ever had so much faith in him. Somewhere in the past decade, the separation of personal from professional had gotten blurred, and now they were each other's best friend. Possibly because of the tragic loss of too many others, but still true.
Tony owed the Winchesters for a lot more than his own life.
Finally his tears started to subside as a moment of acceptance broke through the storm he'd been brewing all afternoon. Relief, determination, purpose. Emotions were taking over again, but these were ones he could handle.
Wiping his eyes to be sure they'd stayed dry, Tony remembered the beers and took them back to the living room, carefully holding the team picture in his other hand.
Gibbs noticed it immediately. "I hope that's--"
"Thank you," Tony interrupted. He knew arranging it would have made Gibbs uncomfortable. "It's perfect. Totally, completely perfect."
Gibbs looked at him a little sharper to gauge how genuine Tony's changed mood was. When he was satisfied, they finished eating quietly.
Tony might have been feeling better, but the frown Gibbs still wore clearly wasn't just from worry. After the drinks were finished and neither had spoken, Tony turned to face his friend and wait patiently. Gibbs wouldn't talk until he was ready.
The light outside faded the rest of the way, and eventually Gibbs turned to reach for the lamp. Minutes ticked by, and Tony was starting to get anxious about what bad news his boss was avoiding.
"Tomorrow," Gibbs finally said before clearing his throat to restart. "Tomorrow I have to go to your funeral."
Tony had forgotten that. He didn't know what to say.
"That's . . . pretty weird," he managed.
"You think?" Gibbs smiled slightly.
Then Tony frowned. "Will the media be there?"
"It's in Autopsy."
"What?!"
"Ziva got into a fight with a reporter yesterday morning. Broke the guy's nose; his camera was damaged. Vance gave her a slap on the wrist, but she decided to keep things in-house."
"I guess that's good. Is she gonna . . . be all right?"
"She'll get by." Gibbs made it a promise. "There's at least a dozen others that are coming. They think you were brainwashed or something, who knows. But they want to be there. Vance included, now that it's private."
"Wow."
"Should be very informal, but Abby said you would want me to wear a tie."
"Only if it got you to first walk into a designer store," Tony smiled. "You know, she may figure out that you're handling this too well."
"You're about to take off. And be a damn ghost hunter. I'm *not* handling this well."
"That's sweet, boss" Tony teased.
"I'm not your boss anymore, Blondie."
"Oh yeah. I almost forgot about this." Tony ran a hand through his hair.
"Lucky you don't have to look at it much."
"Ha, ha. By the way, we ruined one of your shirts and towels. Sorry about that. None of us knew what we were doing."
"The boys help you with that?"
"I'm sworn to silence. And before I forget, thanks for giving me the bed last night."
"I've slept on that couch enough to know you needed a break."
"Well, I'm good for a few more days now. Where are Sam and Dean anyway?"
"Grabbed their food and drove off. Said they'd be back before morning."
"Oh. Probably out hustling pool. I think that's where their cash comes from."
Gibbs frowned. "You're sure you wanna be a ghostbuster?"
"What can I say? I loved that movie. Still have a soft spot for Dan Aykroyd."
"We can figure something else out."
"Dean made me that same offer a few hours ago. They're good guys."
"Yeah. I looked up John Winchester today and called a couple guys in his unit. They still remembered this kid from Kansas who was stubborn as hell about learning how to do everything the right way. Real American hero, way they told it. Doesn't mean John didn't go crazy later, but at least he didn't start out that way."
"Do you know what happened to their mom?"
"File just says it was a house fire."
"I guess we'll find out soon enough whether their stories are real."
"Did they find something to hunt yet?"
"Sam said maybe, but that was early this morning."
"You watched those idiots on tv all day?"
"After shooting shotguns with Dean."
"Where?"
"Middle of nowhere. Haven't told them yet that you were a sniper. Bet they'll love it," Tony grinned.
"500 yards sounds like the best distance from anything that wants to take a bite out of me."
"Shit." He shook his head again at the surreal situation. "I need a drink. Basement?"
"Best thought you've had all day."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter Five