Way To Kill, Supernatura/NCIS crossover fic, ch 3/?
AUTHOR: maras_morgue
TITLE: Way To Kill, NCIS/SPN
RATING: At the moment, PG-13 but probably will go up.
SUMMARY: Special Agent Jethro Gibbs knows how to solve crimes, but what happens when a meeting with a strange young man involved in an even more bizarre case aims to prove that maybe science can’t explain everything?
CHAPTERS: 3/?
GENRE: Crossover, Crime, Supernatural
WAY TO KILL
Chapter Three
INSIDE NCIS HEADQUARTERS
"Boss, this is our sus- I mean, Dean Winchester," Tony introduced as the trio met with Gibbs.
Gibbs shook hands with the young man, introducing himself while noticing how Dean scanned the surroundings expertly, eyes flickering as he took in entries and exits, possible weapons, and cover. Apart from the fact that when the call came in from Kate saying Winchester wanted a meet and Gibbs’s had his name entered in a search of the database which showed neither a military or federal record, Gibbs would've sworn the kid had military training.
"Sir," Dean acknowledged as they shook hands. The man had a similar air to his father and the other marines he'd met, but different at the same time. "You wanna tell me why you had your kids here following me?" Dean asked as respectfully as he could, uncomfortable in his surroundings.
Military types he was fine with, hell, even authority in general, but unfamiliar territory and unknowns.... that he wasn't too keen on. At least there was more than one way out.
"You met with a person of interest in our current case." Gibbs stated simply. Gibbs watched the younger man for a reaction, his steel blue eye taking in every move. Unfortunately, the kid was damn good and revealed nothing.
"You feel like taking a walk?" Gibbs asked suddenly. He had to admit he was curious about the young man. Not many people who'd been tailed would simply ask to meet with a boss.
"Sure" Dean shrugged, following Gibbs back to the elevator.
SN-NCIS-SN-NCIS-SN-NCIS
Pretty soon the two men had made it outside and were strolling through the lot.
"So", Dean said, "You wanted to talk?"
Gibbs regarded the young man beside him. "How do you feel about lunch?"
"I could eat." Dean answered with a non-committal shrug.
"Lunch it is," Gibbs declared motioning to his car, which was parked next to Dean's Impala. "Mine or yours?" he asked, gesturing to the two cars.
Dean paused for a moment. If he went in Gibbs' car, it handed him complete control over their destination
(and more importantly left his baby alone in a strange place and made him dependant on the older man. If they took his car, he could, essentially, control where they were going.
"Mine" he answered, pulling out his keys and striding to the driver's side.
"Jump in."
Jethro did so, and admired the condition the car had been kept in, taking notice of the box of tapes, each one labeled carefully, some in what looked like feminine script, others decidedly not. He took in the candy wrappers, a couple of empty peanut M & M packets, the duffle bag stashed on the backseat floor, and the first aid kit partially hidden under the seat. It was quite large, Gibbs noted, especially for just one person, and possibly could be a clue in to the enigma that was Dean Winchester.
SN-NCIS-SN-NCIS
"So" Gibbs began after they'd settled in. They'd found a nice diner a ways from the NCIS headquarters and had stopped there, ordered lunch and eaten in silence, both men simply enjoying the food before Gibbs settled with a large coffee fronted by both pie and cake the waitress had given them (well, Dean) with a smile, and started.
One thing he had noticed: Dean could give a horse a run for its money in the eating department. He ate like he'd been starved for a month.
The only real words to come out of Dean's mouth all the while food was in front of him were "Damn this is good". Other than that, nothing but pleasured groans escaped him. Kid could eat.
"So" Dean repeated before shoveling a mouthful of coffee cake into his mouth followed by a gulp of his coffee (black, no cream, two sugars).
"How come you asked to meet me?" Gibbs enquired. The question had been on his mind for a while. If
Winchester was a perp it wasn't a smart thing to actively make yourself known to the head investigator on a case. But people did do that. Gibbs had seen it in missing persons cases he'd observed- the perp joined the search team, often to distract the true searchers from where a corpse might be hidden. If he wasn't, he could be the 'saviour' of Ms. Sabene, but again the question is why front up when he'd obviously stayed hidden before? What was he hiding?
"No point not to. With your guys tailing me, its not like I could do anything. Having watchdogs kinda cramps your style with the ladies" Dean pointed out, continuing to drive into the cake.
Gibbs stayed silent, studying the young man before him. Even when he was seemingly at ease, there was a power, watchfulness to him that only a trained eye could pick up. It was like he was on guard from attack 24/7. The question was why.
"So you what, wanted to tell me to lay my 'kids' off you?" Gibbs asked, eyeing the younger man.
Dean shrugged. "Not so much. If you're gonna have me tailed I want to know why, and I figured you were my best bet. Plus, you wouldn't just ditch a surveillance job just because some little punk bitch told you to," he pointed out, emphasizing with his fork. "It's very un-marine."
Gibbs saw that as an opening and took it, "And how would you know what's marine or not?" he asked.
"My Dad. Friends. What can I say? You guys are everywhere" The young man stated nonchalantly. Gibbs made a note to have McGee research Winchester's background in as much detail as possible. Things just didn't match up. One minute the kid acted like he had 20 years combat experience under his belt, the next he seemed identical to any other young man his age- flirty, a bit of a smartass. He was, essentially a puzzle.
One Gibbs was determined to solve.
After the initial questions Gibbs asked- what Dean was doing at Mary's house ('being neighborly if you know what I mean'), why he didn't 'reveal' himself when he and Abby came over (he received a flippant remark about privacy and a really soft bed for that one), and lastly what he thought about the recent attacks, especially the one on Mary Sabene which Dean simply shrugged at, declaring he wasn't a cop, but it looked like 'some crazy was on the loose', Gibbs started in on simply talking to Dean. Despite the cagey answers to some questions, Gibbs determined Dean wasn't involved perp-wise with the case, and, to that level at least, wasn't a threat.
He still didn't quite understand why he reached that conclusion. He found Dean interesting to talk to though- almost like Abby in that way- the way she'd disarmed his defenses without really trying, how easily she'd set up camp in his 'friend zone'. It was, to use Ab's favorite word decidedly 'hinky' how at ease he felt with this strange kid.
The other thing that was hinky was Dean's broad level of knowledge. Like Gibbs himself, Dean wasn't partial to modern technology unless he had to be, which he thought was odd considering the kid's age, but he let it go. Gibbs learnt that Dean's taste in music was similar to Abby's in that it was rock/metal, but different bands. 'Classics' Dean had declared them.
SN-NCIS-SN-NCIS
Dean had no clue how he ended up talking military stealth tactics with a Special Agent from the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. He was, however.
He did admit to himself, though, that he liked talking to Gibbs- it was almost like his father but without the strict Commander-soldier dynamic he'd developed as his father's soldier. Almost like Bobby but without the 'Uncle' part. It wasn't at all like Pastor Jim or Missouri. He hadn't had any lectures on morality yet, and no one had hit him with a spoon- wooden or otherwise.
It was mutual respect.
It was the beginning of friendship.
It was friggin’ weird.
Surely he couldn't be friends with an authority figure who was completely unaware of the 'supernatural' side of life?
Could he?
Dean decided at that point to stop bothering himself about. If he kept it up, he'd end up a whiny emo-bitch like Sammy.
Sammy. It still pissed him off (hurt) how his little brother had left (abandoned) them (him). He still wondered what the hell was his problem (what had he done wrong?).
"Dean?"
Gibbs' voice brought him back to earth. Grinning a little sheepishly at the older man, he apologized, "Sorry."
"It's fine. Look, I need to head back to NCIS HQ to check on my team, you mind giving me a lift?" Gibbs asked. He actually kind of hoped he'd be able to convince Dean to come back inside with him- he wanted to introduce him to Abby and maybe Ducky too if he was about. If he didn't know better, he'd think he was considering Dean for the team. Luckily, he knew better than to bring in an outsider.
"Yeah" Dean said and soon they'd dropped some cash on the table, winked at the waitress (Dean) and piled back into the Impala.
xxxx
Dean drove along the streets at Gibbs' direction and mulled things over. He wasn't one to get too close to people, but he wasn't antisocial either just...casual. And Gibbs was cool. Anyway, it's not like Dean was thinking about telling the marine 'the truth' or anything. He knew better than to bring in outsiders.
Especially when there wasn't any need to. He could handle this case on his own. After all, he'd done it before.
Gibbs confused him though. As a person he was strict in that marine discipline way but from what little
Dean had seen of the interaction between Gibbs and his team, he actually gave a damn about them. They were like some dysfunctional family. He liked the idea of that. It reminded him of Dad, Sammy, and him before everything fell part and Sam left for Stanford.
He hadn't found out too much about the case, though, when he started reviewing their conversations in the diner. Except that really, they had bubkis. Granted the case had not been in their jurisdiction very long, but the Feds before them hadn't had anything either. Only the F.B.I profiler offered that a 'disturbed individual, likely a white male anywhere from early twenties to mid-thirties with a middle class education’, was the most likely suspect.
Which was great, cause, y'know, there were hardly any guys matching that description.
As Dean was navigating the streets, Gibbs’ cell phone went off. Answering it, Abby’s voice came clear across.
-“I’ve got those blood results and the analysis of the rest of the evidence for you Gibbs” Abby’s voice announced to Gibbs’ ear.
“Good work Abby, we’ll be right there”
“You owe me big for this Gibbs, I rushed it.”
Gibbs smiled softly, “Caf-pow it is” he replied and hung up, turning to Dean. “We need to make a stop”
Twenty minutes later and Gibbs thrust a huge Styrofoam cup at Dean as he exited the car, briskly ordering the younger man to follow him. Dean glared a little at the man’s back before shrugging and striding behind him to catch up.
The two men took the elevator to Abby’s lab where they found the young forensic technician and Ducky.
“Oh Jethro, I haven’t seen you today, how are you? And who’s this young man with you?” the doctor asked congenially.
“Ducky, Abs, this is Dean Winchester.” Gibbs offered by way of introduction.
“Hi” Abby said perkily, grabbing the drink off Dean and taking a huge slurp.
Dean just looked at Abby, eyeing the clothes and jewelry. “You’re a Goth?” he asked warily. Granted, most people looked at Abby oddly when they met her, but Dean was eyeing her like she was going to cause all kinds of hell.
Abby grinned, “That obvious, huh? Don’t worry, I won’t bite” she confided in a stage whisper.
“That’s not what I’m worried about” Dean muttered, his grumbling going unheard by the trio, already discussing whatever it is Gibbs’ phone call concerned.
TBC……