Supply and Demand: Unwanted Part 6/9 (NCIS/SPN Crossover AU)
Supply and Demand: Unwanted Part 6 (NCIS/SPN Crossover AU)
Author: Tari_Roo
Rating: PG13 (Gen)
Fandom: SPN/NCIS
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing.
Summary: NCIS/SPN Crossover AU. Gibbs didn’t want or need an Empath. But Director Vance was insisting and his team were avoiding him, more than usual, so when the T&E Centre called to say that Dean Winchester was available, it was time to pick up the unwanted Empath.
Spoilers: set somewhere in Season 6&7 of NCIS, and AU for SPN (all seasons)
A/N: apologies for the delay in posting chapter 6. After hacking at for days, I decided to scrap most of it as it wasn’t gelling. Instead, chapter 7 content got bumped and is now much longer with the essential elements of the original chapter 6. Not that my process makes much difference to you, but nonetheless, there you go.
Chapter 6
The normally harsh security lights illuminating the Navy Yard perimeter were softened by the overcast gloomy night. The bullpen floor was quiet and practically empty, the hustle and bustle of a late Friday afternoon long past.
Ziva slipped quietly into the room, her thoughts half buried still in the file she was holding and half already at home, planning a late evening meal. At times it still felt odd, not going home early for the start of the Sabbath but given enough time, anything felt normal. Looking up, she saw the back of Gibbs’s head, grey hair shining white in the desk lamp as he looked out at the starless night. Then again, Washington night skies were frequently starless, only the brightest and biggest clearing past smog, light and distance. Somewhat true for people in Washington, too.
No doubt his mind was actually on their case or rather lack of one.
“Gibbs.”
“Ziva.”
McGee barely looked up from his screen as she walked past and Ziva slipped behind her desk, noting the five or so emails which had come in. Thankfully Tony was already gone otherwise his frustrated buoyancy would have been like grating fingernails by now.
Reaching over to turn her PC off Ziva sighed loudly, “Anything new from Abby?”
McGee ignored her but Gibbs shook his head, “Nothing.”
“Right.”
There was a disturbing lack of results from all of the evidence they had collected, Abby was a whirlstorm of determination and optimism that was rapidly flagging. Strangely enough, Gibbs didn’t seem too concerned - for Gibbs anyway. They weren’t working the weekend, for one. And second, he wasn’t growling at anyone - yet.
In fact, Gibbs seemed - happy. Content. And while that couldn’t be anything but good, it didn’t seem natural. Gibbs at his best was abrasive and gruff - this more mellow, relaxed version was ... disturbing in its own right.
Glancing over at McGee and judging by the surreptitious smirk lifting his lips, McGee was slacking off ... probably perusing some site of geekdom. Her computer finally shut down, the quiet hum of the fan disappearing and Ziva stood, snatching up her handbag. “See you on Monday.” McGee looked up long enough to wave her goodbye, “See ya, Ziva.” Gibbs just nodded.
Suddenly the sound of twanging guitars filled the air and startled, Gibbs scrambled on his belt for his phone. The long mournful sound of ‘Belinda was mine’ til the time that I found her, holding Jim ...’ Finally Gibbs freed his phone and snapped it open, growling, “Gibbs!” his cheeks actually tinted with red. Curious both about the ring tone and the call, Ziva paused, leaning against her desk. Tim was a disembodied head, straining to see over his computer screen.
“Yeah, yeah, sure, 395, we’ll be there.” Gibbs snapped the phone closed, stared at it momentarily before tossing it at McGee, snarling, “Fix it!”
“Ah, sure, sure, Boss,” McGee stammered, opening the phone again. Ziva was about to ask what was going on when she felt the hairs on her arms and at the back of her neck stand on end. Gibbs was clearing his desk, shutting down his PC and glowering at everything ... and looking very Gibbslike. He stalked around his desk and slammed a hand down on McGee’s desk, barely startling Tim who was well used his Boss’s ways and quickly handed the phone back with, “All done, Boss. Back to normal.”
There was a distant ding from the elevator that led down to Abby’s lab and then Dean trotted into view, a small smirk on his face. “You,” Gibbs pointed an annoyed finger at him, before continuing, “We got a multicar pile up on the Beltway. And leave my phone the hell alone.”
“Sure thing.” If there was an ounce of remorse in him, Winchester’s mischievous grin obscured it but he followed Gibbs towards the main elevator, carefully checking Ziva out as he went past, his smile turning a little dirty.
Ziva glared in response but let him go unmolested and watched the elevator doors close. Tim stood up, his own PC shutting down now and said loudly, “Just when you think things aren’t going to get weirder...”
“Yes,” Ziva nodded, still looking at the elevator. Tim joined her at her desk and sighed, “Gibbs might be less... er... “
“Crunchy?”
“Grouchy. And yeah ... but it’s still weird.”
“Yes,” Ziva sighed, “Yes, it is.”
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The sensation of sharp knives slicing into his chest lingered as Gibbs startled awake, the remnants of the nightmare like shards in his memory. Staggering up, ignoring the protest of aching muscles still strained from the kinetic work of last night, Gibbs stumbled into his ensuite and flipped on the lights. The harsh fluorescent glare was a welcome difference from the dark, terrifying images of his dream and he gulped down several handfuls of cold water from the faucet.
Glancing at his reflection it was a momentary relief to see it was blood free but he couldn’t help reaching up onto his chest and checking for the wounds that had felt so real. His hand came away clean, finding only the soft, worn material of his t-shirt. Groaning a little, Gibbs shoved himself up and off the basin, running his wet hands through his hair. His hands were still shaking, trembling and Gibbs sat down awkwardly on the closed toilet seat, still trying to calm down.
It was so easy to revisit the raw fear and adrenalin of the nightmare, easy to just slip right back in and feel his chest being sliced open, the cooper tang of blood in his mouth, the twisting fear and panic as Dad, Dad, stop Dad, stop, please spilled out of him with the blood, an anguished cry of ‘Dean!’ ringing in his ears. And even as Jethro fought the surge of fear, he couldn’t stop the tremble in his hands. None of it made sense, not the invisible knives, nor the yellow eyes, not the shuddering crash of metal on metal that knocked him from dreaming into wakefulness.
Searching, trying to clear the images from emotion, Gibbs couldn’t even be sure of anything he’d seen but the feelings, oh, they remained raw and real. Despair and fear, ragged terror. No stranger to nightmares and grief, Gibbs stood and strode out of the bathroom. It was early, very early, the sun still a distant promise and the house was quiet.
Pausing at the door to Dean’s room, Gibbs tried once more to fix the faces and names, the place even from the dream but it was fading rapidly, leaving only the ragged emotions probably still seeping from their connection. He twisted the doorknob and let the door drift open on its own, silent and slow. The room was still shrouded in darkness, only the light from the half open blinds illuminating the room. Winchester was a hunched silhouette on the bed, the cover’s waves and crests testament to his restless slumber.
Dean didn’t turn around, despite being well aware of Gibbs remaining turned to the window, watching the sky lighten by degrees. He didn’t look too shaken or disturbed, a deceptive calm aura around him. But the air in the room, the lingering atmosphere reeked of fear and sweat. Figuring most of what he was ‘feeling’ was coming through their connection and that otherwise he’d never know Winchester was shaken, Gibbs pondered his next step.
It’d be easy to leave it, let it lie, let Dean have his privacy and that Gibbs’ natural inclination anyway. He didn’t like people prying into his personal life and he reciprocated in kind. This however, this was big, spoke of abuse and pain and hurt and maybe Dean did need to talk about it.
Dean’s shoulders tensed, almost imperceptibly but perhaps because Gibbs had been watching for it, he caught it and instead of going against the grain, Jethro said softly, “Well since you’re up ... let’s go for a run.”
The nod was terse, dismissive but Dean’s relief was palatable. Shutting the door behind him, Gibbs padded back to his own room, already planning on extending his normal 5 miles to 10.
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Monday morning dawned with its usual insistence, sweeping away the scattered remains of weekend parties, wasted time and banished hopes that somehow maybe, Monday wouldn’t come.
“You need to break the connection.” Winchester was standing in the kitchen, bare foot as usual and holding that damn taser.
The remainder of the weekend had been quiet - dream free. Abby had come over, bringing her beloved car for a tune up. Saturday afternoon had been filled with the noise of classic rock and Abby’s laughter. Sunday had been productive, cleaning out the basement workshop, quiet and content. Everything just felt... stable, peaceful. It had been a pretty good weekend.
“Why? I sure as hell don’t like it and you definitely don’t.” Gibbs had his back to Dean, determinedly buttering a piece of toast. Abby had apparently filled his breadbin and fridge.
“They normally do a surprise inspection a week in... on loans. They’re going to come by the office today.” Winchester was still in the doorway, hair mussed, t-shirt so badly wrinkled it looked like he’d been cleaning the floor with it.
“You sure?”
“No, I like having my brain fried on a regular basis! Yes, I’m sure.” There was plenty of attitude and annoyance in his voice, a front of bravado with which Jethro was familiar. He saw it quite often, or rather heard it, in Dinozzo.
Gibbs shoved in a mouthful of eggs in, studying Winchester, who had his ‘resolute’ face on - as Abby had named it the other day. “No, I’ll take my chances...”
“Screw that, man! They’ll just make you do it right there and then take me away. You’ll never get another shot at an Empath again.”
Very little feeling leaked through the connection these days but Gibbs could taste fear and desperate need in the air, along with his eggs and suddenly losing all interest in breakfast, he put his fork down.
“What’s the likelihood of me getting an Empath again, anyway?” The trickle of disappointed anger was barely curtailed and Jethro figured Dean was maybe pinning a small, private hope on him doing ... something. The something remained undetermined and ill defined but just knowing that someone, somewhere, with a little bit of influence didn’t approve of the T&E methods made a difference. Apparently Gibbs was pouring cold water on that small hope now.
“Look, Dean ...”
“Just trust me, man. It’s for ... it’ll be better this way, you can ...” Winchester’s face was a contrast to his body language, tense lines and stressed muscles. No matter what he was saying, he did not want this either.
Undetermined and ill defined but a desperate hope. “You really sure we need to do this - today.”
“Yes.” Winchester’s voice shook, just a little on that yes and he held out the taser and snatched his hand away when Gibbs took it. The black taser felt heavy.
“Fine, go sit on the couch.” Dean nodded and left the room and Jethro took a deep breath, bracing himself for what was to come. If the first day had been bad, today was gonna suck royally - apparently. Winchester was sitting stiffly on the couch, eyes averted, hands twitching between fists and forced relaxation.
Gibbs sat down next to him and said, “You sure?”
“Yes.” Terse, angry but resolute.
“Ok. On 3.”
“Just do it.”
So Gibbs did, flipping the taser on and placing the live end on Dean’s arm. The raw flood of ice and loss was staggering and as the taser current stopped, so did the flood. Unlike before though, he could still feel Dean, feel an array of pain and nausea but most of all disorientation as the metaphoric rug was pulled out from under him.
“Again,” Dean stammered, raw and shaking but still upright. Gibbs hesitated but Dean already had his eyes closed so he quickly activated the damn thing again and shocked his Empath. The surge was less this time, less horrifying in its intensity but the yawning maw of loss increased as now he could barely feel Dean at all and it just felt wrong.
Dean was flat on his back, collapsed in a boneless sprawl on the couch, shaking and trembling.
“Ag...ain.”
“No.”
Dean was insistent however, nodding his head as words failed him.
Angry, at Winchester and at the whole damn situation, Gibbs hit him again, the ice barely noticeable now but the loss complete. Alone, disconnected and isolated, Gibbs felt quite empty and a little drained. Dean however was spasming for real now, neck and back arched, jaw gritted as he rode out the pain. He wasn’t supposed to touch him ... although he longed too and considering that he hadn’t felt that overriding need over the past few days only emphasised the wrongness of the relationship that T&E were perpetuating.
It didn’t take Dean too long to gain control though, forcibly relaxing his body and slumping further into the couch. At his nod, which unfairly, Gibbs found to be too long in coming, Jethro shifted closer and placed his hands ‘near’ Dean’s head and just felt the empathic field, drawing it in, stabilising his own equilibrium, the yawning hole of absence filling.
The connection that resulted was paltry, weak and spiteful in its limitations and Gibbs only felt a more urgent need to take more instead of leaving it well alone. “I know you can’t answer, just yet - but how in the hell am I supposed to just walk away from 2 weeks of this, after they break the connection and take you?”
Struggling, wetting dry lips and trembling, Dean hissed, “Fir.. first ones alw..always free.”
Ah, he wasn’t supposed to walk away satisfied. He was supposed to now happily fall in line with T&E scheduled sessions and working telekinetic guidelines. It was why they had agreed to this too - whether he was in their Centre or toting Dean around for 2 weeks, they got him hooked and ... that was it. He was theirs for life.
“Shit.”
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Throwing his bag into the corner, tossing a soft pastry onto his desk, Tony surveyed the bullpen and drew in a deep, content breath. Today was going to be a good day. Abby was going to find something on their burglary/vandalism case, he had a hot date on Thursday and Gibbs was back to normal. Life, she was good.
As if summoned by the thought and in the same breath invoking Murphy, Gibbs stormed past, a vibrating figure of anger. “Hey, Boss.”
Gibbs ignored him, taking the stairs up to MTAC two at time. McGee and Ziva stared at his disappearing legs and then over at Tony. Like a good little lap dog, Dean strolled past, following in Gibbs wake. As he passed, Tony felt an unaccountable urge race through him, an itch, a need to just ... touch. Scowling, running his tongue over his lips at the sour taste in his mouth, Tony shook his hands, rubbing them briskly. “Damn.” Winchester climbed the stairs slowly, a little unsteady and Tony noted that both McGee and Ziva were either shaking off the effects or rubbing their hands on their clothes, trying to shake it off.
“What the hell happened?” Tim gaped, smoothing his hair, trying to look less disturbed.
Dinozzo didn’t answer, just shrugged but he had an inkling and as a result, a bad feeling.
It was mid-morning when Tony found his moment. Gibbs had returned from MTAC, a little less pissed but Dean had not. Ziva and Tim had made themselves scarce and it was just the two of them in the immediate area.
Acting as nonchalant as he could and with this, timing was everything, Tony sidled around his desk and said, “Hey, Boss.”
Casually, Tony stepped in front of Gibbs, preventing him from walking into the bullpen, his smile careful and fake cheery.
“Dinozzo?” Less grit and growl than earlier but still not chilled
“Uh, small thing, boss... just a ...” Unstuck despite all the many rehearsed conversations in his head now that he was eyeball to eyeball with his Boss, Tony floundered.
At Gibbs’ raised eyebrows, Tony found his voice and said softly, “Ok, so it’s a little difficult not to ah ... notice Winchester. He kinda rubs people the right way as it were, you know?”
“No.” His tone said no, his face said yes.
Soldiering on, Dinozzo said, “Oh, ah - kinda has ‘touch me, you’ll like it’ vibe without all the creepy undertones you’d expect.”
Gibbs looked a little stunned and blurted, “You guys too?”
Realising that the slip would not go unnoticed, Tony bulldozed on, “Yeah, just a little but especially if you touch him and ... its kinda hard not to keep wanting ... to.”
“Yeah?” Gibbs didn’t actually seem angry but rather utterly floored.
“Well, I guess because it’s so unusual, you’re hyperaware of it and kinda on edge only when it’s not so ... vibey you don’t notice so much because that’s more normal and you get used to that and then it’s even less noticeable like getting used to a fart, you know...”
“Dinozzo!” Smiling wanly, Tony decided to just bite the bullet, “What the hell is going on, Boss. Today Dean’s like a friggin lighthouse - all ‘touch me, touch me’ and that only makes me wonder what was different yesterday, or Friday or whatever!”
Instantly Gibbs shut down, his expression going from confused and concerned to business-Gibbs. “It’s got nothing to do with you, Tony.” He made to push past Dinozzo but Tony moved with him, his own smile growing fixed.
“No? I think it means you throwing away your telewahtsis or standing with T&E ... you’re not breaking the connection are you, before today that is?”
Gibbs shoved past, ignoring Tony and the accusation, face grim, which with Gibbs sometimes meant guilt or more often meant pissed off.
“Boss!” Tony called but Gibbs was gone, probably heading down to Abby’s lab given his long stride. Alone, Tony sighed and then said quietly to himself, “You can’t mess around with these guys...”
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When Reception called up to advise Gibbs that he had a visitor, Jethro swallowed his sudden lump of nerves and mumbled something appropriate. Refusing to look over at Dinozzo who was far too perceptive for his own good, Gibbs walked over to the elevator doors and waited.
The doors opened and revealed the ever present smile of Agent Andrews.
“Agent Gibbs.” The man extended his hand, teeth flashing in the lights from the elevator.
“Agent Andrews.” Gibbs slowly responded, raising his own hand and shook Andrews’s limp one, burying his urge to punch the man.
“You seem to making progress, I barely felt that ...”
Confused, but hiding it well Gibbs nodded, “Checking up on me, us?”
“Oh yes, valuable asset like Dean - we need to make sure everything is running smoothly. And where is ...” Andrews looked around, like he was expecting to see Dean hovering nearby. Gibbs noted the look, the barely veiled curiosity.
“Evidence lab.”
The smile was almost blinding in its intensity and Andrews either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care that Gibbs had not let him off the elevator yet. “Ah, latent empathy readings, very nice, Agent Gibbs.”
Shrugging, Gibbs backed up a little, letting Andrews step out and into the room. “If that’s what it’s called. How about I go ...”
“Oh, I’ll come with you. I’d love to see NCIS at work... also so interesting see the inner workings of other agencies.” Andrews nodded and smiled, obviously, at Tony who was standing watching the conversation.
“This way,” Gibbs nodded and bypassed their desk area, well more Tony, still ignoring the concerned looks he was getting. Andrews actually shut up for most of the trip, looking around the office space with the faked interest of a museum exhibit visitor or perhaps not faked in his case.
Abby was pressed hip to hip with Dean as they reviewed the piles of evidence on her tables, something loud and screeching reverberating through the lab. Flipping the music off, Gibbs watched as Abby’s expression brightened then dimmed at the sight of them, while Dean’s went dead and cold.
“Hello, Dean. Miss Sciuto, I presume.”
Andrews didn’t come into the room proper, hanging back a little and Abby stammered, “Ah, hey... how did you ...”
“Background checks on anyone who may have regular contact with an Empath are compulsory, Miss Sciuto.” Andrews continued his review of the lab from the door, taking it all in. Gibbs watched Dean instead, noting the careful way he kept his hands in sight, the slight tremor as he put a piece of bagged evidence down.
“Agent Gibbs, is there a small interview or break room nearby that we could use?”
Nodding, Jethro said, “Around the corner, small breakroom.”
“Excellent, Dean?”
Barely hiding her concern, Abby watched as Dean left, edging past Andrews and she called out, “See ya in a bit, Dean!”
Sharing a look with Abby, hers full of demands and orders, Gibbs followed Andrews and Winchester. The room wasn’t far and Andrews ushered Dean in and then paused, “You needn’t come in, Agent Gibbs.”
“I’d rather...”
The smile was incandescent and Gibbs wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his insipid face. “I know, but we don’t need you ... rather I need you out here.” And with that, Andrews closed the door.
“Oh.”
Contemplating going in anyway, Gibbs raised his hand to the doorhandle and then stopped. Their paltry, miniscule connection was quiet, the stream of unease from Dean steady but far from off the scale. Leaving well enough alone, Gibbs returned to the lab and an overly worried Abby.
“Gibbs, Gibbs... what, why? Is he from T&E?”
Leaning over, Jethro gave her a quick peck on the cheek and sighed, “Yeah, Abs. Some kind of inspection.”
Slightly diverted by the kiss, Abby straightened her tartan waistcoat and declared firmly, “I don’t like him, Gibbs. He gives me the willies.”
“Me too, Abs. Me too. Whatcha got?”
Frowning, clearly seeing that he was trying to change subjects, Abby pointed a finger at Jethro said, “About this, we are gonna talk. But first...”
She tottered over to her computer and held up a spray can in an evidence bag. “For all of the DNA filled stuff you got me, there is a surprising...” and here she paused for dramatic effect, “surprising lack of matches in any DNA database.”
“So you said.”
Waving the spray can, Abby smiled, “Weirdness aside, this... this was the answer.”
“Kay.”
Twisting, Abby clicked on the screen and pulled up a picture. “Dean said ... well on Friday he said, this one, this can, felt different from the others. And by the way, what’s with Dean’s regression to black and white silent movie-mode?”
Leaning forward to look at the picture of a Master Sergeant Matthews, Gibbs ignored the last question and said, “Different how?”
Thinning her eyes and giving him a flinty look, Abby said, “Different like not the same, Gibbs. So this morning I ran more tests and found a partial on the inside of the cap.”
“And the partial was for this guy? Matthews?” Gibbs ignored the glare from Abby.
“No,” Abby quipped, alt tabbing to a different screen. “The partial was a no go on any database as well. Instead, this morning, Dean suggested and by suggested I mean struggled to communicate at all but managed to anyway, about checking on recent purchases of a shit load of spray cans and that... led me to Master Sergeant Matthews.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” Abby continued to glare at Gibbs, who sighed and rather than snap at her, said, “I get it, Abs. I get it, really. Just .... tell me about this.” Abby pursed her lips, pouting but apparently noted the tinge of shame colouring his cheeks and gave in, tapping the can on the counter.
“All of the spray cans were bought at the same home depot store but the order came in online and was delivered to ....”
“Master Sergeant Matthews.”
Giving Gibbs a sad sort of smile, Abby nodded, “Yes. And that’s about the only link we have to the burglary. Everything else.... bumpkiss. Mystery men all round.”
Reaching over, Gibbs gave her another kiss on the cheek and said as he pulled away, “Thanks, Abs.”
Deciding that Andrews had had long enough, Gibbs stalked out of the lab, fully aware that Abby was watching him.
Just about knock, he heard Andrews say, “Agent Gibbs, please come in.”
Gibbs did so, instantly looking over at Dean, scanning him, checking him over.
Folding his arms, Andrews preened, “I see that the protectiveness and possessive urges are in full swing... oh and don’t worry that’s quite normal. I just wanted to tell you, with Dean present, that I’m a little concerned at his heart rate and pulse.”
Eyebrows climbing into his hairline, Gibbs deadpanned, “Oh?”
Nodding like it was fairly obvious, Andrews sighed, “I know we stressed as little stimulation as possible and I realise you have to work but I want you to be extra careful , try to reduce the amount of exertion, stimulation etc. It just makes things easier, later.”
Certain his lack of buy in was evident, Gibbs shrugged, “Sure.”
Andrews patted Dean on the shoulder and said cheerfully, “Good bye, Dean. See you on Friday.”
Dean didn’t even look up from the contemplation of his boots and Andrews nodded and said, ‘I’ll see myself out, Agent Gibbs.”
Gibbs nonetheless followed him to the elevator and just as Andrews got in he put out a hand and stopped him in the open doorway. “Yes?”
Trying to find exactly the right words, Gibbs growled, “Nothing about this ... arrangement seems right, Andrews.”
Serious for once, Andrews looked down at Gibbs’s hand and then said, “Of course not, Gibbs. But we’re doing the best we can.” With that, he pushed past and the doors closed.
Feeling his ire rise more than a little, Gibbs hissed to himself, “That’s no excuse.”
He turned around and saw Dean in the hallway, a lone figure silhouetted in the poor lighting. Nodding towards the lab, Gibbs met him at the entryway, instinctively scanning him for signs of distress or hurt. Dean was subdued, the annoying spark which had been slowly showing itself reburied.
Glancing at Abby, who was unabashedly staring at them, Gibbs tried to meet Dean’s gaze which he was not making easy with his downturned face and said, “Nice job on the spray cans. You wanna go check this Master Sergeant out?”
Dean flicked his eyes at Abs and then up at Gibbs, shrugging as it made no difference to him. But Gibbs could see the small pleased smile that flitted across his face and the brief flash of pride through the connection. “Come on, then.”
They both gave Abby a quick wave, to which she responded with an enthusiastic dual thumbs up. Watching Dean enter the elevator cab, Gibbs felt more than the usual surge of protectiveness and silently vowed.... to do something.
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-In a shocking turn of events today, the murdered women found inside her apartment yesterday has been identified as Melissa Stevens, the high profile Empath. Ms Stevens, who famously assisted with the peace talks in Berlin last year, was positively identified by the T&E Centre this afternoon. Director Harrison, speaking to the press shortly afterwards, expressed his shock and horror and urged anyone with information to please come forward. He denied claims that Ms Stevens had been killed by a radical group and stressed that her death was a tragedy but hardly linked to terrorist activity.
- ZNN Broadcast, Feb 1991