Bones/SPN Crossover Fic: The Monster in Limbo (2/?)
Title: The Monster in Limbo (Bones/Supernatural Crossover)
Author: bea_tricks
Genre: Thriller, Romance
Rating: M for future chapters
Spoilers: i'm trying to keep spoilers to a minimum, esp on SPN, but there's a mild spoiler in this chapter for SPN 312, "jus in bello". also note that this takes place somewhere in season 4 of bones.
A/N: for those of you jokers not up to date on Supernatural, Bobby Singer is a fellow hunter, an older-and-wiser father figure to sam and dean, and someone on whom they often call for help.
Read Chapter 1 here
--
Chapter 2
Dean's pupils dilated. She was tall and vibrant and really pissed. Shifting in his slacks, he willed his libido to calm.
"I have been dealing with more agencies than I can count today, all interrupting me to ask what I've found. I'll tell you what I told them: I won't be able to find anything unless you let me do my job," she growled.
"Of course, I understand," Sam said. "We'll let you get back to work."
She muttered something inaudible before swiping a security card and stalking up the stairs to where the bones were laid out.
"Oh, don't mind her," a smooth voice said from behind them. "She's been in a mood lately." The brothers turned to see another stunning woman - with dark, luscious locks, part asian from the looks of it - advancing on them. "Angela Montenegro," she slid close to Sam and took his hand.
Sam worked to engage his vocal cords, "I'm Sam... Vincent."
"Pleasure to meet you," she purred. A clatter came from their left, and a short man with curly hair dropped to recover its contents.
That's the look of a woman on the prowl, Dean thought with a smile. Good. Maybe he'll get laid and get out of this funk he's been in.
"This is my partner, Agent Dean..." Sam stuttered off.
"Neil," Dean completed. "Homeland Security."
She flashed her eyebrows and smiled. "Oh good. I'm a big fan of being safe."
Wow, she doesn't mess around, does she? Dean thought.
"It'll be a little while before Dr. Brennan has anything for you," she said as she looked at Sam's chest and then back up to his face. She still hadn't released his arm. "But I do have some preliminary sketches of a couple of our victims if you'd like to see."
"Oh, he would love to see," Dean smacked his brother hard on the back, "wouldn't you Sam? He's an art nut."
Sam gave his brother a murderous look.
Angela led them to a terminal near the side of the platform and pulled up two drawings, one of a man in his mid-forties with high cheekbones, and the other a fair-featured young woman. "I usually wait for Bren to add tissue markers before I start, but you kind of get a feel for the medium when you do this for as long as I have." She opened a database and began typing. "There are so many victims here, I gave it a shot with the skulls that are still intact. Running these images against missing persons reports now."
Sam smiled at her and they excused themselves, retreating several yards before whispering.
"Dean, how do we know this is our kind of job, exactly? This could be a serial killer's mass grave. You know? A terrible thing, but not our business."
"What? You wanna bail before they even have time to check for something weird?"
"We're in Washington D.C., Dean."
"Oh!" he bobbed his head and replied, as though surprised. "No shit? Wow. I wonder if we can see Georgie's wooden teeth..."
"Have you forgotten that we're wanted in multiple states?"
"Come on, Sammy. Don't you read the news? We're dead. They won't be out looking for a couple stiffs," he smiled and nodded at an attractive passing intern.
"I still don't like it."
"Of course you don't. Look," he leaned in and spoke more seriously, "Bobby thinks that this mass grave might be something his pal didn't finish back in the day, so we're checking it out. You've gotta admit, if this did have to do with his friend, these bones are definitely a little less charcoal than a hunter would usually leave them."
Sam looked back at his brother, sulky, and nodded his agreement.
"Good. Now you go back over there and pick up what that girl's puttin down. Cuz you really," Dean looked down at the floor as he turned and flashed his brows, "really could use the release."
--
"I've got hits," Angela said loudly enough to reach both the brothers and Dr. Brennan on the edge of the platform. "Ashley Wilson and Jonas Englewood, both of Albuquerque, New Mexico, reported missing in July, 1977."
"Just from your preliminary sketches, right?" Brennan asked, looking down over the railing. "We'll need to verify."
The artist sent the missing persons reports to the computer near Brennan and offered, "Jonas Englewood fractured his jaw in his twenties. Any sign of that?"
"Yes," she muttered while staring at the data on her screen and comparing it to her measurements. "Alright. I'm confident that this man is our John Doe 0963. Good work, Ange." Somewhat placated by the progress, she was more calm when she spoke to Sam and Dean. "There you go. One confirmed ID. Should give you something to start with."
Sam shifted on his feet and turned to leave, fingers already dialing Bobby. "I'll go call it in."
The anthropologist stepped away from the monitor, extended her arms in front and behind herself. She rolled her head, letting her long, elegant neck loll. Dean took the opportunity and stepped close to the platform.
"You're Dr. Temperance Brennan, aren't you?" She righted her head and looked at him pointedly. Dean quickly continued, "I recognize you from the Albuquerque Journal article." When he'd read the news story online a couple days ago, his eyebrows had hit the ceiling, particularly when he saw the accompanying photo. There was no question that it was the same Dr. Brennan, her face livid and contorted, an angry finger pointing away from the dig site. He could practically hear her cursing at the reporters, suggesting physiologically impossible places for them to store their equipment.
From the way that Angela winced, he guessed that she'd seen the same photo.
"Damn reporters," Brennan mumbled under her breath.
"Yeah, I can't stand them. Can't tell you how many investigations they've compromised." Her shoulders, hunched up over the microscope, seemed to relax a bit more. "That picture obviously doesn't do you justice, by the way."
"Thank you." He almost didn't hear it, but he did see the faint smile that ghosted her mouth.
Before long, Dr. Brennan appeared to have fallen comfortably into her routine when a beeping sound announced a new visitor to the platform. A tall, broad shouldered man strode over. "Hey, Bones. What's the good word?"
"What's what good word?"
He sighed and finally looked over the edge at the two of them. Angela had been chatting up Sam, but the brothers now focused their attention on the newcomer. He leaned over and stage-whispered to Brennan, "Who are they?"
"They're from DHS," she replied without looking up from her microscope. "I don't remember their names."
"Agent Sam Vincent, this is my partner Agent Dean Neil."
Reaching down from the platform and shaking their proffered hands, he said, "Special Agent Seeley Booth. I'm Dr. Brennan's partner."
"Pleasure."
"Hey... Vincent and Neil," Booth grinned. "Like the lead singer from Motley Crue. Hell of a coincidence you two getting paired up."
Dean laughed, "Yeah, I was stoked, but Sam's not really a fan." He watched Booth lean with one hand on a table. There was a casual affability about him that Dean instantly liked. "Don't come across many people who catch that."
"I am a classic rock man, what can I say?"
"The Crue, AC/DC," Dean smirked and spread his hands and let his voice drop half an octave, "Zep."
Booth perked up. "You know, there's talk of a reunion tour."
"Man, there's always talk of a reunion tour."
"No, this is more static than usual."
Brennan straightened up and turned in their direction. "Did you want to hear about the victims, or are you just here to mingle?"
Booth shot Dean a knowing grin and spoke to his partner, "What've you got, Bones?"
"Well, so far we have confirmed cause of death on three of the victims, but I'm seeing corresponding injuries on all of them." She rotated and gestured at the table at her side. "Three puncture wounds to the chest, victims bled out. Still working on murder weapon."
Booth looked around. "Cam mentioned that there are 13 sets of remains." From the subtle edge in his voice, Dean had the distinct impression that it wasn't the usual chain of communication.
"Yes."
"Why do I see only twelve?"
She snapped her gloves off and spoke to all of them. "Come with me."
--
They were halfway down the stairs before the thirteenth body came into view, and it was obvious - even through Sam and Dean's untrained eyes - that something was very different.
Brennan spoke as she led them down into Limbo, "The platform was already full and... well, Dr. Saroyan and I decided it was wise to keep this set someplace a little more private."
The remains, laid out, were at most 4 feet long. While much of the skeleton approximated human characteristics, the skull was elongated in such a way that it appeared to have an almost canine muzzle and ridges that ran from the crown down the back of the skull. The spinal bones were laid out in a shallow curve, and each reached away from the body with a vertically flat spike. Dean thought momentarily of stegosaur plates, but those that laid on the table were narrow and relatively short. And very clearly not belonging to a dinosaur of any sort. At the end of each arm, what in a human would have been short distal phalanges were long, arched and pointed at the end.
Sam stared. "Are those... claws? Talons?"
Booth leaned over the table and peered closely at the creature. "Okay, that's really not normal."
"No. It most definitely is not." Brennan stared at the bones as one would a frustrating puzzle. "Cam has an archaeozoologist coming in tomorrow for consultation. Until then, we're focusing on our... more traditional remains," she said tightly.
"When's the last time you let someone else mess with your bones?"
"I think this case calls for a specialist."
"I trust your instincts, Bones. What does your instinct tell you? Genetic anomaly? Freak birth defect? Little green men?"
Brennan looked the remains up and down. "I've never seen anything like this." She reached out a gloved hand and straightened a couple of the bones with a fascinated touch. "I don't know. But they aren't like any human remains I've ever seen, and that's saying something."
Dean pulled his brother out of earshot of the others and looked him in the eye. "Kinda human, kinda not? In with a mass grave of murder victims? Still think this isn't our kind of case?"
Sam pushed a button and slipped his cell phone surreptitiously back into his pocket. "Photo's on it's way to Bobby now."
Author: bea_tricks
Genre: Thriller, Romance
Rating: M for future chapters
Spoilers: i'm trying to keep spoilers to a minimum, esp on SPN, but there's a mild spoiler in this chapter for SPN 312, "jus in bello". also note that this takes place somewhere in season 4 of bones.
A/N: for those of you jokers not up to date on Supernatural, Bobby Singer is a fellow hunter, an older-and-wiser father figure to sam and dean, and someone on whom they often call for help.
Read Chapter 1 here
--
Chapter 2
Dean's pupils dilated. She was tall and vibrant and really pissed. Shifting in his slacks, he willed his libido to calm.
"I have been dealing with more agencies than I can count today, all interrupting me to ask what I've found. I'll tell you what I told them: I won't be able to find anything unless you let me do my job," she growled.
"Of course, I understand," Sam said. "We'll let you get back to work."
She muttered something inaudible before swiping a security card and stalking up the stairs to where the bones were laid out.
"Oh, don't mind her," a smooth voice said from behind them. "She's been in a mood lately." The brothers turned to see another stunning woman - with dark, luscious locks, part asian from the looks of it - advancing on them. "Angela Montenegro," she slid close to Sam and took his hand.
Sam worked to engage his vocal cords, "I'm Sam... Vincent."
"Pleasure to meet you," she purred. A clatter came from their left, and a short man with curly hair dropped to recover its contents.
That's the look of a woman on the prowl, Dean thought with a smile. Good. Maybe he'll get laid and get out of this funk he's been in.
"This is my partner, Agent Dean..." Sam stuttered off.
"Neil," Dean completed. "Homeland Security."
She flashed her eyebrows and smiled. "Oh good. I'm a big fan of being safe."
Wow, she doesn't mess around, does she? Dean thought.
"It'll be a little while before Dr. Brennan has anything for you," she said as she looked at Sam's chest and then back up to his face. She still hadn't released his arm. "But I do have some preliminary sketches of a couple of our victims if you'd like to see."
"Oh, he would love to see," Dean smacked his brother hard on the back, "wouldn't you Sam? He's an art nut."
Sam gave his brother a murderous look.
Angela led them to a terminal near the side of the platform and pulled up two drawings, one of a man in his mid-forties with high cheekbones, and the other a fair-featured young woman. "I usually wait for Bren to add tissue markers before I start, but you kind of get a feel for the medium when you do this for as long as I have." She opened a database and began typing. "There are so many victims here, I gave it a shot with the skulls that are still intact. Running these images against missing persons reports now."
Sam smiled at her and they excused themselves, retreating several yards before whispering.
"Dean, how do we know this is our kind of job, exactly? This could be a serial killer's mass grave. You know? A terrible thing, but not our business."
"What? You wanna bail before they even have time to check for something weird?"
"We're in Washington D.C., Dean."
"Oh!" he bobbed his head and replied, as though surprised. "No shit? Wow. I wonder if we can see Georgie's wooden teeth..."
"Have you forgotten that we're wanted in multiple states?"
"Come on, Sammy. Don't you read the news? We're dead. They won't be out looking for a couple stiffs," he smiled and nodded at an attractive passing intern.
"I still don't like it."
"Of course you don't. Look," he leaned in and spoke more seriously, "Bobby thinks that this mass grave might be something his pal didn't finish back in the day, so we're checking it out. You've gotta admit, if this did have to do with his friend, these bones are definitely a little less charcoal than a hunter would usually leave them."
Sam looked back at his brother, sulky, and nodded his agreement.
"Good. Now you go back over there and pick up what that girl's puttin down. Cuz you really," Dean looked down at the floor as he turned and flashed his brows, "really could use the release."
--
"I've got hits," Angela said loudly enough to reach both the brothers and Dr. Brennan on the edge of the platform. "Ashley Wilson and Jonas Englewood, both of Albuquerque, New Mexico, reported missing in July, 1977."
"Just from your preliminary sketches, right?" Brennan asked, looking down over the railing. "We'll need to verify."
The artist sent the missing persons reports to the computer near Brennan and offered, "Jonas Englewood fractured his jaw in his twenties. Any sign of that?"
"Yes," she muttered while staring at the data on her screen and comparing it to her measurements. "Alright. I'm confident that this man is our John Doe 0963. Good work, Ange." Somewhat placated by the progress, she was more calm when she spoke to Sam and Dean. "There you go. One confirmed ID. Should give you something to start with."
Sam shifted on his feet and turned to leave, fingers already dialing Bobby. "I'll go call it in."
The anthropologist stepped away from the monitor, extended her arms in front and behind herself. She rolled her head, letting her long, elegant neck loll. Dean took the opportunity and stepped close to the platform.
"You're Dr. Temperance Brennan, aren't you?" She righted her head and looked at him pointedly. Dean quickly continued, "I recognize you from the Albuquerque Journal article." When he'd read the news story online a couple days ago, his eyebrows had hit the ceiling, particularly when he saw the accompanying photo. There was no question that it was the same Dr. Brennan, her face livid and contorted, an angry finger pointing away from the dig site. He could practically hear her cursing at the reporters, suggesting physiologically impossible places for them to store their equipment.
From the way that Angela winced, he guessed that she'd seen the same photo.
"Damn reporters," Brennan mumbled under her breath.
"Yeah, I can't stand them. Can't tell you how many investigations they've compromised." Her shoulders, hunched up over the microscope, seemed to relax a bit more. "That picture obviously doesn't do you justice, by the way."
"Thank you." He almost didn't hear it, but he did see the faint smile that ghosted her mouth.
Before long, Dr. Brennan appeared to have fallen comfortably into her routine when a beeping sound announced a new visitor to the platform. A tall, broad shouldered man strode over. "Hey, Bones. What's the good word?"
"What's what good word?"
He sighed and finally looked over the edge at the two of them. Angela had been chatting up Sam, but the brothers now focused their attention on the newcomer. He leaned over and stage-whispered to Brennan, "Who are they?"
"They're from DHS," she replied without looking up from her microscope. "I don't remember their names."
"Agent Sam Vincent, this is my partner Agent Dean Neil."
Reaching down from the platform and shaking their proffered hands, he said, "Special Agent Seeley Booth. I'm Dr. Brennan's partner."
"Pleasure."
"Hey... Vincent and Neil," Booth grinned. "Like the lead singer from Motley Crue. Hell of a coincidence you two getting paired up."
Dean laughed, "Yeah, I was stoked, but Sam's not really a fan." He watched Booth lean with one hand on a table. There was a casual affability about him that Dean instantly liked. "Don't come across many people who catch that."
"I am a classic rock man, what can I say?"
"The Crue, AC/DC," Dean smirked and spread his hands and let his voice drop half an octave, "Zep."
Booth perked up. "You know, there's talk of a reunion tour."
"Man, there's always talk of a reunion tour."
"No, this is more static than usual."
Brennan straightened up and turned in their direction. "Did you want to hear about the victims, or are you just here to mingle?"
Booth shot Dean a knowing grin and spoke to his partner, "What've you got, Bones?"
"Well, so far we have confirmed cause of death on three of the victims, but I'm seeing corresponding injuries on all of them." She rotated and gestured at the table at her side. "Three puncture wounds to the chest, victims bled out. Still working on murder weapon."
Booth looked around. "Cam mentioned that there are 13 sets of remains." From the subtle edge in his voice, Dean had the distinct impression that it wasn't the usual chain of communication.
"Yes."
"Why do I see only twelve?"
She snapped her gloves off and spoke to all of them. "Come with me."
--
They were halfway down the stairs before the thirteenth body came into view, and it was obvious - even through Sam and Dean's untrained eyes - that something was very different.
Brennan spoke as she led them down into Limbo, "The platform was already full and... well, Dr. Saroyan and I decided it was wise to keep this set someplace a little more private."
The remains, laid out, were at most 4 feet long. While much of the skeleton approximated human characteristics, the skull was elongated in such a way that it appeared to have an almost canine muzzle and ridges that ran from the crown down the back of the skull. The spinal bones were laid out in a shallow curve, and each reached away from the body with a vertically flat spike. Dean thought momentarily of stegosaur plates, but those that laid on the table were narrow and relatively short. And very clearly not belonging to a dinosaur of any sort. At the end of each arm, what in a human would have been short distal phalanges were long, arched and pointed at the end.
Sam stared. "Are those... claws? Talons?"
Booth leaned over the table and peered closely at the creature. "Okay, that's really not normal."
"No. It most definitely is not." Brennan stared at the bones as one would a frustrating puzzle. "Cam has an archaeozoologist coming in tomorrow for consultation. Until then, we're focusing on our... more traditional remains," she said tightly.
"When's the last time you let someone else mess with your bones?"
"I think this case calls for a specialist."
"I trust your instincts, Bones. What does your instinct tell you? Genetic anomaly? Freak birth defect? Little green men?"
Brennan looked the remains up and down. "I've never seen anything like this." She reached out a gloved hand and straightened a couple of the bones with a fascinated touch. "I don't know. But they aren't like any human remains I've ever seen, and that's saying something."
Dean pulled his brother out of earshot of the others and looked him in the eye. "Kinda human, kinda not? In with a mass grave of murder victims? Still think this isn't our kind of case?"
Sam pushed a button and slipped his cell phone surreptitiously back into his pocket. "Photo's on it's way to Bobby now."