Numb3rs/Supernatural Fic: Alliance, Chapter Seven/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 7 of 9
Wordcount (this chapter): 2442
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 SEVEN
Driving out of the basement parking lot Don couldn’t help but look over at the guest parking space to see no Impala. He reminded himself that he shouldn’t be that surprised as clearly Dean had been to his car at some point to get the suit he was currently wearing.
“She’s somewhere safe,” Dean commented when he saw where the agent was looking.
“I don’t doubt it,” Don answered.
“When I get Sam back, we’re not hanging around.”
That sounded like an excellent plan to Don, the sooner Dean was out of his hair and LA the better. The silence as they drove was broken Dean’s cell ringing and his mostly one sided conversation with Bobby.
“Anything?” Don asked when Dean hung up.
“He’s still trying to figure exactly what Best is trying to summon,” Dean explained. “Until we know that we won’t know how to gank it.”
Gank? The term was a new one on him but Don figured the meaning easily enough. He wouldn’t be letting Dean kill anyone, or anything for that matter, if he could help it but they’d reached the block where the market was so he let it go for now. Doing a lap around the entire block he was relieved to see no other FBI vehicles in sight.
The store was like any number of small markets in the area with tightly packed shelves loaded up with cheap foodstuffs, fridges and freezers down the back and junk food, candy and cigarettes up the front closest the door. At the end of the counter was a glass area where tubs of ice-cream waited to be scooped into cones. Expecting to see signs of the disturbance Don was surprised to find it had mostly been tidied up. A clearly broken rotating stand was leaning against the end of the counter and the laminated glass over the ice-cream was cracked but that seemed to be it on first blush. As the attendant approached from the rear of the store Don had another look and saw some goods jumbled up on the shelves and a piece of broken glass against the edge of the wall.
The attendant, an elderly man who was probably actually younger than he looked, moved behind his counter and looked them over. Don saw the man’s attitude change when he realised they weren’t buying.
“So what are you meant to be?”
Flashing his ID Don tried not to react when he saw Dean do the same. “FBI. We’re here about the disturbance you reported. In particular we’re interested in the man who caused it.”
“Is there a reward?” The attendant asked shrewdly. It wouldn’t do to give information away for free if he could make a few bucks out of it.
“No, there’s no reward,” Dean jumped in, clearly angry at the mercenary question. “You-“
Don interrupted before Dean said something that would put the attendant further off-side. “We believe the man may be able to help us with our investigation into some recent murders. Anything you could give us might prevent another murder.”
“What do I care about some random murders?” The man snapped. “Stuff like that happens all the time around here and nothing gets done about it. What I care about is stopping young punks trashing my place.”
“Then give us what you got Pops, and I promise you he won’t trash your place again,” Dean said.
The man appeared unimpressed by the promise but started speaking. The story was much the same as the occurrence sheet, just a little more fleshed out. He went back over his description of the man but aside from adding black jeans and a red plaid shirt to the mix there wasn’t anything more.
“What about tattoos?” Don demanded.
“What about it? He could have had some, or not. I don’t know, I wasn’t exactly looking for tatts,” the attendant responded.
“You have CCTV?” Looking around Don couldn’t see any cameras. Normally that would have been a bad thing but today he was finding himself feeling immensely relieved, even if it made it harder to prove the man who caused the disturbance was Best.
“What, I look like I can afford that?” The man said testily. “Now, if there’s no reward and you’ve got what you wanted you can get the hell out. You’re scaring off my customers.”
A couple of people had come to the door whilst they’d been talking and had just as quickly discovered they had business elsewhere.
Don started to reach for his wallet to pull out his card when he thought better of it. “If you think of anything-“
“I’ll be sure to call the tip line,” the old man finished in a tone that suggested he would do no such thing. He’d told the cops and now the FBI what had happened, doing more than his part, they could handle the rest. It was their job, not his.
“Yeah, you do that you-“ Dean started.
Don hustled his ‘partner’ out of the shop before he created too much of a memorable impression. The last thing he needed was an official complaint regarding the attitude of a non-existent agent, implicating him in the bargain.
Although it was only a few blocks to the vicinity of the abandoned businesses Don drove most of the way so the equipment in the back of the SUV wouldn’t be far away if needed. He’d barely put the vehicle into park before Dean slid out and started towards the buildings. After ensuring the SUV was securely locked Don hurried to catch up.
Crouching beside Dean against a fence Don assessed the area around them. It looked like there used to be a car dealership, a garage and a gas station all side by side on the block. All had been long abandoned and were now covered with graffiti and as far as he could tell not a single pane of glass remained. Weeds and grass grew through cracks in the pavement and a couple of stripped car bodies were slowly dissolving away into rust. Behind the frontages there looked to be some sheds or storage areas that would have supplied the businesses. If Best was in there he’d picked a good area to hole up.
Once again Don had to scramble to keep up as Dean was already on the move over to the first building at a crouching run. Making their way around the first few buildings Don had to admire the professional way Dean moved, silently and carefully peering into windows and around cracks in doorways. It was clear he’d had plenty of experience and Don found himself moving with Dean in much the same way he would with any other agent. Working quickly but carefully they made their way along the row of buildings, clearing the store fronts before starting on the rear buildings.
Dean saw it first, a scuff mark on the dirty concrete. Following the line Dean pointed out Don could see how the scuff was one of a series that travelled in a faint arc across the concrete, the track of a car tyre. The scuffs were clear, not spotted like the rest of the surrounding area from the short shower of rain they’d had overnight. They exchanged a glance and as one drew their guns before carefully easing closer to the building. A door large enough to admit two cars formed almost the entire frontage of the building identifying it as a garage or a workshop area.
Flattening themselves against the building they both turned their heads and pressed their ears to the wall, listening intently for movement. There was nothing. After another shared glance they moved in opposite directions being extra cautious not to make any noise or show themselves to anyone that may be inside. Limited to trying to peer into the darkness through cracks rather than using the few broken windows their circuit around the building took some time. Eventually they met up again at the rear with each giving a slight shake of the head to indicate they’d found nothing.
Dean held up his hand, wait, and cautiously moved to peer into the open window frame in the wall beside the rear door. Don saw Dean’s hands flex on his gun in reaction to something he’d seen and started moving just as Dean pulled the edge of the door open enough to slip inside. Don crouched and hesitated a moment, waiting to see if there was any reaction to Dean’s actions before he revealed himself. Nothing. Finally Don also squeezed through the gap in a crouch, moving quickly to the side and into a deep shadow whilst his eyes adjusted.
A black shape resolved itself into an old black ford, the same model Dean stated Best drove. Don looked around the rest of the garage and found it was basically that, room enough for two cars with industrial shelving around the walls and mechanic’s pit visible in the empty car space. There were no signs of Best or anyone else. Don rose from his position and conducted a sweep of the garage as Dean concentrated on the car. A dull clunk had Don focusing his attention back on the car as Dean had pulled the trunk release. This time it was Don that held up a hand to stop Dean, he would check the trunk. Surprisingly Dean nodded and waited.
Keeping his gun back but at the ready Don cast one last glance at Dean before quickly pulling the trunk lid up and darting to the corner of the car where he would be out of the line of fire from anyone lying in wait. When nothing happened he leant in and saw that the trunk appeared to be empty, no offender and on a more positive note, no victim. Digging into a pocket he pulled out a small flashlight and shone the beam into the trunk as Dean moved up alongside him. It was empty but there were some sizeable blood stains that whilst mostly dark and dried were still slightly tacky in places to Don’s probing finger. He may not have been a forensic technician but he had seen enough blood in his time to know that even though the stains were not fresh they couldn’t be more than a day old.
“You don’t know its Sam’s,” Don said at the expression on Dean’s face.
“He was bleeding when I last saw him,” Dean said keeping his voice low.
Don critically examined the size of the stains and ran his hand over the liner to get a feel for its absorbency. “Not enough blood to be fatal.” As he looked at Dean he saw that his attempt at reassurance didn’t seem to be all that successful.
Dean snapped himself out of it, stepping away from the trunk and its disturbing stains. “He’s alive. He’s here and I’m going to find him.”
Don followed him out of the garage and waited as Dean appeared to be considering, looking to each of the nearby buildings. Despite his profiling he had to allow that as a fellow hunter Dean would know more about Best’s habits than he would and that would include which of the buildings around them he would prefer. Eventually Dean came to a decision and jerked his head at a building adjacent to them.
Don couldn’t see anything that differentiated that building from the others around them, all were in the same state of disrepair and vandalism but he simply nodded and followed Dean across the space between them. The building was larger than the garage and took longer to make their way around especially as this time Don stayed with Dean, concerned that if he found something he wouldn’t hesitate but to go charging inside. They had reached the far corner before something caused Don to stop. Closing his eyes he concentrated and heard it again, a voice.
“Ssst,” Don hissed to draw Dean’s attention.
Dean held up a hand and moved his fingers in a gesture the agent recognised as talking. Dean had heard it too. They both crouched and again leant their ears against the wall. The sound was slightly louder but still too muffled to make anything out but it was enough to confirm it was a voice.
Then came the sound of a second voice, a different tone that answered the first and Dean stiffened.
“Sam?”
“He’s in there,” Dean said tightly.
That was the final confirmation Don needed. They’d found Best and his victim. “I’m calling this in. Give me my cell,” Don demanded.
Dean reached into his pocket and pulled the device out but held it in his fist. “I need some time.”
“To do what?” Don countered even as he knew the answer. He kept his voice low as he tried to drive his message home. “I don’t care what that witch did, you’re in no condition to go in there. You need to play this smart and let us do this.”
“I’m good to do whatever it takes, Fed,” Dean stated. He started to move off.
Don grabbed for Dean’s shoulder but immediately froze as the Colt snapped up. “Don’t be stupid. Give me my cell so I can call this in, we need more help here if we’re going to get Sam out safely.”
“You’re giving me time,” Dean said as he tossed the phone to one side.
Don tracked its path and grimaced as it landed in an old oil drum with an accompanying wet ‘plop’ that indicated it had landed in something. Oil or water it didn’t matter, the phone was toast.
“You’ll get your brother killed-“ Don broke off as the Colt jabbed in his direction.
“I’m getting him out. You’re either helping me or not. But you’re not stopping me,” Dean said in a dangerous tone.
“Fine, not stopping you,” Don agreed as he backed away slightly. Dean was more than a little protective of his younger brother, something Don could relate to, but at least one of them had to be thinking straight. “But we can’t go in, not yet. You have to let me call this in first.”
Don had learned that lesson the hard way and couldn’t help rubbing at the back of his neck as he remembered the feel of the needle entering his flesh. He couldn’t let Dean go it alone but he couldn’t do anything until backup was rolling. With his cell gone he would have to run back to the SUV to use the radio but there was nothing for it.
“Then call it in. I’m getting Sam.”
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 7 of 9
Wordcount (this chapter): 2442
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 SEVEN
Driving out of the basement parking lot Don couldn’t help but look over at the guest parking space to see no Impala. He reminded himself that he shouldn’t be that surprised as clearly Dean had been to his car at some point to get the suit he was currently wearing.
“She’s somewhere safe,” Dean commented when he saw where the agent was looking.
“I don’t doubt it,” Don answered.
“When I get Sam back, we’re not hanging around.”
That sounded like an excellent plan to Don, the sooner Dean was out of his hair and LA the better. The silence as they drove was broken Dean’s cell ringing and his mostly one sided conversation with Bobby.
“Anything?” Don asked when Dean hung up.
“He’s still trying to figure exactly what Best is trying to summon,” Dean explained. “Until we know that we won’t know how to gank it.”
Gank? The term was a new one on him but Don figured the meaning easily enough. He wouldn’t be letting Dean kill anyone, or anything for that matter, if he could help it but they’d reached the block where the market was so he let it go for now. Doing a lap around the entire block he was relieved to see no other FBI vehicles in sight.
The store was like any number of small markets in the area with tightly packed shelves loaded up with cheap foodstuffs, fridges and freezers down the back and junk food, candy and cigarettes up the front closest the door. At the end of the counter was a glass area where tubs of ice-cream waited to be scooped into cones. Expecting to see signs of the disturbance Don was surprised to find it had mostly been tidied up. A clearly broken rotating stand was leaning against the end of the counter and the laminated glass over the ice-cream was cracked but that seemed to be it on first blush. As the attendant approached from the rear of the store Don had another look and saw some goods jumbled up on the shelves and a piece of broken glass against the edge of the wall.
The attendant, an elderly man who was probably actually younger than he looked, moved behind his counter and looked them over. Don saw the man’s attitude change when he realised they weren’t buying.
“So what are you meant to be?”
Flashing his ID Don tried not to react when he saw Dean do the same. “FBI. We’re here about the disturbance you reported. In particular we’re interested in the man who caused it.”
“Is there a reward?” The attendant asked shrewdly. It wouldn’t do to give information away for free if he could make a few bucks out of it.
“No, there’s no reward,” Dean jumped in, clearly angry at the mercenary question. “You-“
Don interrupted before Dean said something that would put the attendant further off-side. “We believe the man may be able to help us with our investigation into some recent murders. Anything you could give us might prevent another murder.”
“What do I care about some random murders?” The man snapped. “Stuff like that happens all the time around here and nothing gets done about it. What I care about is stopping young punks trashing my place.”
“Then give us what you got Pops, and I promise you he won’t trash your place again,” Dean said.
The man appeared unimpressed by the promise but started speaking. The story was much the same as the occurrence sheet, just a little more fleshed out. He went back over his description of the man but aside from adding black jeans and a red plaid shirt to the mix there wasn’t anything more.
“What about tattoos?” Don demanded.
“What about it? He could have had some, or not. I don’t know, I wasn’t exactly looking for tatts,” the attendant responded.
“You have CCTV?” Looking around Don couldn’t see any cameras. Normally that would have been a bad thing but today he was finding himself feeling immensely relieved, even if it made it harder to prove the man who caused the disturbance was Best.
“What, I look like I can afford that?” The man said testily. “Now, if there’s no reward and you’ve got what you wanted you can get the hell out. You’re scaring off my customers.”
A couple of people had come to the door whilst they’d been talking and had just as quickly discovered they had business elsewhere.
Don started to reach for his wallet to pull out his card when he thought better of it. “If you think of anything-“
“I’ll be sure to call the tip line,” the old man finished in a tone that suggested he would do no such thing. He’d told the cops and now the FBI what had happened, doing more than his part, they could handle the rest. It was their job, not his.
“Yeah, you do that you-“ Dean started.
Don hustled his ‘partner’ out of the shop before he created too much of a memorable impression. The last thing he needed was an official complaint regarding the attitude of a non-existent agent, implicating him in the bargain.
Although it was only a few blocks to the vicinity of the abandoned businesses Don drove most of the way so the equipment in the back of the SUV wouldn’t be far away if needed. He’d barely put the vehicle into park before Dean slid out and started towards the buildings. After ensuring the SUV was securely locked Don hurried to catch up.
Crouching beside Dean against a fence Don assessed the area around them. It looked like there used to be a car dealership, a garage and a gas station all side by side on the block. All had been long abandoned and were now covered with graffiti and as far as he could tell not a single pane of glass remained. Weeds and grass grew through cracks in the pavement and a couple of stripped car bodies were slowly dissolving away into rust. Behind the frontages there looked to be some sheds or storage areas that would have supplied the businesses. If Best was in there he’d picked a good area to hole up.
Once again Don had to scramble to keep up as Dean was already on the move over to the first building at a crouching run. Making their way around the first few buildings Don had to admire the professional way Dean moved, silently and carefully peering into windows and around cracks in doorways. It was clear he’d had plenty of experience and Don found himself moving with Dean in much the same way he would with any other agent. Working quickly but carefully they made their way along the row of buildings, clearing the store fronts before starting on the rear buildings.
Dean saw it first, a scuff mark on the dirty concrete. Following the line Dean pointed out Don could see how the scuff was one of a series that travelled in a faint arc across the concrete, the track of a car tyre. The scuffs were clear, not spotted like the rest of the surrounding area from the short shower of rain they’d had overnight. They exchanged a glance and as one drew their guns before carefully easing closer to the building. A door large enough to admit two cars formed almost the entire frontage of the building identifying it as a garage or a workshop area.
Flattening themselves against the building they both turned their heads and pressed their ears to the wall, listening intently for movement. There was nothing. After another shared glance they moved in opposite directions being extra cautious not to make any noise or show themselves to anyone that may be inside. Limited to trying to peer into the darkness through cracks rather than using the few broken windows their circuit around the building took some time. Eventually they met up again at the rear with each giving a slight shake of the head to indicate they’d found nothing.
Dean held up his hand, wait, and cautiously moved to peer into the open window frame in the wall beside the rear door. Don saw Dean’s hands flex on his gun in reaction to something he’d seen and started moving just as Dean pulled the edge of the door open enough to slip inside. Don crouched and hesitated a moment, waiting to see if there was any reaction to Dean’s actions before he revealed himself. Nothing. Finally Don also squeezed through the gap in a crouch, moving quickly to the side and into a deep shadow whilst his eyes adjusted.
A black shape resolved itself into an old black ford, the same model Dean stated Best drove. Don looked around the rest of the garage and found it was basically that, room enough for two cars with industrial shelving around the walls and mechanic’s pit visible in the empty car space. There were no signs of Best or anyone else. Don rose from his position and conducted a sweep of the garage as Dean concentrated on the car. A dull clunk had Don focusing his attention back on the car as Dean had pulled the trunk release. This time it was Don that held up a hand to stop Dean, he would check the trunk. Surprisingly Dean nodded and waited.
Keeping his gun back but at the ready Don cast one last glance at Dean before quickly pulling the trunk lid up and darting to the corner of the car where he would be out of the line of fire from anyone lying in wait. When nothing happened he leant in and saw that the trunk appeared to be empty, no offender and on a more positive note, no victim. Digging into a pocket he pulled out a small flashlight and shone the beam into the trunk as Dean moved up alongside him. It was empty but there were some sizeable blood stains that whilst mostly dark and dried were still slightly tacky in places to Don’s probing finger. He may not have been a forensic technician but he had seen enough blood in his time to know that even though the stains were not fresh they couldn’t be more than a day old.
“You don’t know its Sam’s,” Don said at the expression on Dean’s face.
“He was bleeding when I last saw him,” Dean said keeping his voice low.
Don critically examined the size of the stains and ran his hand over the liner to get a feel for its absorbency. “Not enough blood to be fatal.” As he looked at Dean he saw that his attempt at reassurance didn’t seem to be all that successful.
Dean snapped himself out of it, stepping away from the trunk and its disturbing stains. “He’s alive. He’s here and I’m going to find him.”
Don followed him out of the garage and waited as Dean appeared to be considering, looking to each of the nearby buildings. Despite his profiling he had to allow that as a fellow hunter Dean would know more about Best’s habits than he would and that would include which of the buildings around them he would prefer. Eventually Dean came to a decision and jerked his head at a building adjacent to them.
Don couldn’t see anything that differentiated that building from the others around them, all were in the same state of disrepair and vandalism but he simply nodded and followed Dean across the space between them. The building was larger than the garage and took longer to make their way around especially as this time Don stayed with Dean, concerned that if he found something he wouldn’t hesitate but to go charging inside. They had reached the far corner before something caused Don to stop. Closing his eyes he concentrated and heard it again, a voice.
“Ssst,” Don hissed to draw Dean’s attention.
Dean held up a hand and moved his fingers in a gesture the agent recognised as talking. Dean had heard it too. They both crouched and again leant their ears against the wall. The sound was slightly louder but still too muffled to make anything out but it was enough to confirm it was a voice.
Then came the sound of a second voice, a different tone that answered the first and Dean stiffened.
“Sam?”
“He’s in there,” Dean said tightly.
That was the final confirmation Don needed. They’d found Best and his victim. “I’m calling this in. Give me my cell,” Don demanded.
Dean reached into his pocket and pulled the device out but held it in his fist. “I need some time.”
“To do what?” Don countered even as he knew the answer. He kept his voice low as he tried to drive his message home. “I don’t care what that witch did, you’re in no condition to go in there. You need to play this smart and let us do this.”
“I’m good to do whatever it takes, Fed,” Dean stated. He started to move off.
Don grabbed for Dean’s shoulder but immediately froze as the Colt snapped up. “Don’t be stupid. Give me my cell so I can call this in, we need more help here if we’re going to get Sam out safely.”
“You’re giving me time,” Dean said as he tossed the phone to one side.
Don tracked its path and grimaced as it landed in an old oil drum with an accompanying wet ‘plop’ that indicated it had landed in something. Oil or water it didn’t matter, the phone was toast.
“You’ll get your brother killed-“ Don broke off as the Colt jabbed in his direction.
“I’m getting him out. You’re either helping me or not. But you’re not stopping me,” Dean said in a dangerous tone.
“Fine, not stopping you,” Don agreed as he backed away slightly. Dean was more than a little protective of his younger brother, something Don could relate to, but at least one of them had to be thinking straight. “But we can’t go in, not yet. You have to let me call this in first.”
Don had learned that lesson the hard way and couldn’t help rubbing at the back of his neck as he remembered the feel of the needle entering his flesh. He couldn’t let Dean go it alone but he couldn’t do anything until backup was rolling. With his cell gone he would have to run back to the SUV to use the radio but there was nothing for it.
“Then call it in. I’m getting Sam.”
Next chapter ... here