Gen Fic: Hell, and Back (12/?) WIP SPN/CM
Title: Hell, and Back
Author: Kikkimax
Fandoms: Supernatural and Criminal Minds
Rating: PG-13 for language and violence
Warnings: Uh, language and violence? AU from season 2 finale in SPN, WORK IN PROGRESS
Summary: The title says it all. Sequel to Defect, you probably want to read that one first.
Disclaimer: If I owned either of these shows I wouldn't still be going to work every morning...
Distribution: Please don't without my prior consent.
Garcia let out a groan of disappointment. Gideon’s coffee shop was closed. She sat in Ester and stared at the dark building. Not only had she lured Gideon right into Sam Winchester’s clutches, but Derek was no doubt headed into harm’s way as well. She wadded up the second etching of Sam’s scribbled message, and boy, he must have really been stressed to write so hard, and tossed it into her open purse.
She tried Derek again but he still wasn’t picking up and she’d given up on Gideon long ago. “It’s okay,” she told herself. “There’s more than one way to track a stud muffin.”
Turning the car around in the empty street she headed to Quantico. If anybody could locate her missing troops, she could. If not? She might just have to ruin Hotch’s weekend.
***
Sam backed further into the room, raising his hands over his head and Morgan kept pace until they cleared the door.
“On your knees, hands behind your head with your fingers interlocked,” Morgan ordered rapid fire, leaving the door open behind him. “You okay?” he asked without sparing a glance to Gideon.
“I‘m fine,” Gideon declared as he jumped to his feet even as Sam complied with Morgan‘s directions. “Put the gun down.”
Right on cue the bathroom door crashed opened and a half dressed Dean appeared, weapon in hand and pointed at Morgan. “I swear to God, Morgan, if you hurt my brother…”
This was the most dangerous part of Dean. If there was a cold blooded killer inside the man, and Gideon still wasn’t convinced there was, threatening Sam would be the quickest way to bring it to the surface. But Morgan was a hair-trigger away from finding out once and for all.
“Winchester,” Morgan gasped, his gun wavering only slightly as he took his eyes off Sam for a split second before refocusing. “What the hell?”
“Put the guns down, both of you,” Gideon insisted as he put his own body between them. Sam was the only one he couldn‘t protect.
“Jason, get out of the way,” Dean told him as he jockeyed for a better firing position. Gideon moved with him, shielding Morgan.
Morgan didn’t appreciate the gesture either. “Damn it, Gideon, he’s still wanted for a string of murders.”
“Not anymore. I’m dead, remember?” Dean goaded, making a scary face.
“Yeah, yeah. How’d you work that? Pay off somebody at the hospital?” Morgan asked, grasping at straws for a logical answer for the apparent resurrection.
“Yeah, that’s it. You got me. I paid ‘em in the blood that was oozing out of my lifeless body,” Dean’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “Jackass.”
Sam kept his hands on his head but turned his torso slightly so he could see Dean. “Everybody just calm down,” he cautioned, a little wild-eyed himself. “I take it you two know each other?”
“Yeah, he ruined my suit.”
“It was out of fashion anyway.”
“Whatever,” Morgan snorted before allowing his gaze to travel back to Dean in puzzlement. “You keep a weapon in the bathroom?”
“Don’t you?” Dean’s voice was steady but there was still murder in his eyes.
“Dean,” Gideon breathed. He had to stop them before things got out of hand. There would be no bloodshed, none of these young men would die tonight. He trusted Morgan not to fire, he was a consummate professional, but Dean was already on the edge. Dean was the unknown. “Look at me.”
“He’s got my brother.” There was no emotion in Dean’s voice but Gideon believed he was seconds away from taking Morgan out of the picture permanently. The tension grew exponentially.
Gideon approached him carefully and put a hand on his chest. Dean was so tense it was like pushing against a granite wall. “Give me the gun,” he whispered.
Dean slowly covered Gideon’s hand with his own left hand, patting it once before twisting Gideon’s wrist and pushing his thumb into the pressure point. Gideon let out a gasp of surprise and pain as Dean forced him back behind him and to his knees. He held him there almost effortlessly, never taking his eyes, or his gun, off Morgan. “He’s got my brother,” he repeated.
“And now you have Gideon,” Morgan responded, his cool façade starting to crumble.
“No, he doesn’t,” Gideon insisted from his place on the floor trying to keep the grimace out of his voice. “Look where he put me. He’s protecting me, keeping me out of the line of fire.”
“Dean, he’s not going to shoot me,” Sam said. “Right? What’s your name? Morgan?”
“Not unless I have to.”
“And you’ll be dead before Sam hits the floor,” Dean promised coldly.
“Do you hear that, Gideon?” Morgan asked, making a point. “He means it.”
“I do mean it,” Dean confirmed.
“This is stupid,” Sam said as he lowered his hands.
“Watch it,” Morgan warned as Sam stood to tower over him even if it was inadvertently.
“Sammy!” Dean yelled in a tone that brokered no arguments.
Sam ignored him. “Put your gun down,” he told Morgan. “Please. Before my brother blows your brains out and becomes the killer you already think he is.”
“Do it, Morgan,” Gideon pleaded.
Morgan hesitated another moment before grudgingly lowering his weapon. Dean followed suit an interminable thirty seconds later. They stared each other down even as Dean released his grip on Gideon and helped pull him to his feet.
Gideon rubbed his hand distractedly as he watched Dean shove the gun into the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back and turn to grab a black tee shirt off the bed.
Still wary and more than a little bemused, Morgan holstered his weapon and glanced outside before closing the door. “So, seriously, how the hell can you be alive?” he asked as Dean tugged on the shirt as if nothing had just happened.
“I was deep undercover for the NIA,” Dean lied easily, sitting on the nearest bed and picking up a pair of worn socks from the floor. He put them on before propping himself up against the headboard since all the pillows in the room seemed to form a nest on the other bed. “By ‘killing’ me they were able to pull me out without blowing my cover.”
“Bullshit,” Morgan scoffed.
“Alrighty then,” Dean said with a smile. “You explain it.”
Morgan turned to Gideon who took a deep breath. “As near as I can tell Dean died and went to Hell where Sam here,” Gideon said with a gesture to the younger Winchester, “Who has abilities yet to be disclosed, brought him back to life through some sort of incantation.”
Sam shrugged sheepishly as Morgan turned to glare at him.
“So nobody is going to tell me,” Morgan complained as he pulled out his phone. “I guess we can hash this out in interrogation.”
“Put it away,” Dean grumbled. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Unless you plan to shoot me. And look how well that turned out last time. I just don‘t stay dead, do I?”
Morgan moved between the beds to turn on the lamp and get a better look at the supposed corpse.
Dean jumped at him. “Boo!”
“Prick,” Morgan groused, pulling back in spite of himself. Gideon wondered again how no one had ended up dead.
“What can we do to convince you?” Sam asked with the same earnest expression he‘d bowled Gideon over with at the diner. “Anything, you name it.”
Morgan threw up his hands and put his phone away but he didn’t look happy. “Keep talking.”
“No, dammit,” Dean swore at Sam, leaning forward and pointing a finger at Morgan. “We told him the truth, if he doesn’t believe it that’s his problem.”
“You can understand it’s a little… off putting,” Gideon implored Dean.
“Off putting? It’s the freaking after life, Jason,” Dean said. “You believe or you don’t believe.”
Suddenly Gideon had an inspiration. He moved to sit on the foot of the bed to address Dean. “You once told me you’d take me on a hunt if you could.”
“Not gonna happen. Did someone say pie?” Dean bounded off the bed to grab the bag he’d taken from Sam and with an afterthought the probably lukewarm coffee as well before returning to the same spot.
“That’s a great idea,” Sam chimed in looking first to Gideon and then to Dean.
“Don‘t even think about it,” Dean cut him off as he opened the bag from the diner. “So you don’t believe in Heaven?” he glanced up to ask Morgan. “What? Are you like Agnostic or Atheist or whatever?”
“Oh, I believe in Heaven. I might even believe in Hell,” Morgan said as he joined Dean on the bed to reach over and grab the paper bag. “I even believe maybe you’re headed there someday. I just don’t think you’ve already been. What? No rhubarb?”
Dean yanked the bag back, ripping it in half and spilling three clear plastic containers on the bed. “Rhubarb? No. That’s like, worse than mincemeat. Here, take the… what is that? Pecan. The apple’s mine.”
Morgan popped open the container with the pecan pie and used his fingers to lift it to his mouth mostly to keep Dean guessing, or so Gideon assumed. “Not bad,” he reported. He and Dean sized each other up, again, but at least for the moment a truce was in place.
“Why not?” Sam persisted as he took a seat on the other bed. “We can show them what we do.”
“Because I said no,” Dean told him through his first bite of apple pie which he pretended to enjoy. “Blueberry?” he offered to Gideon and then Sam. “Fine. More for me,” he said when they refused.
Author: Kikkimax
Fandoms: Supernatural and Criminal Minds
Rating: PG-13 for language and violence
Warnings: Uh, language and violence? AU from season 2 finale in SPN, WORK IN PROGRESS
Summary: The title says it all. Sequel to Defect, you probably want to read that one first.
Disclaimer: If I owned either of these shows I wouldn't still be going to work every morning...
Distribution: Please don't without my prior consent.
Garcia let out a groan of disappointment. Gideon’s coffee shop was closed. She sat in Ester and stared at the dark building. Not only had she lured Gideon right into Sam Winchester’s clutches, but Derek was no doubt headed into harm’s way as well. She wadded up the second etching of Sam’s scribbled message, and boy, he must have really been stressed to write so hard, and tossed it into her open purse.
She tried Derek again but he still wasn’t picking up and she’d given up on Gideon long ago. “It’s okay,” she told herself. “There’s more than one way to track a stud muffin.”
Turning the car around in the empty street she headed to Quantico. If anybody could locate her missing troops, she could. If not? She might just have to ruin Hotch’s weekend.
***
Sam backed further into the room, raising his hands over his head and Morgan kept pace until they cleared the door.
“On your knees, hands behind your head with your fingers interlocked,” Morgan ordered rapid fire, leaving the door open behind him. “You okay?” he asked without sparing a glance to Gideon.
“I‘m fine,” Gideon declared as he jumped to his feet even as Sam complied with Morgan‘s directions. “Put the gun down.”
Right on cue the bathroom door crashed opened and a half dressed Dean appeared, weapon in hand and pointed at Morgan. “I swear to God, Morgan, if you hurt my brother…”
This was the most dangerous part of Dean. If there was a cold blooded killer inside the man, and Gideon still wasn’t convinced there was, threatening Sam would be the quickest way to bring it to the surface. But Morgan was a hair-trigger away from finding out once and for all.
“Winchester,” Morgan gasped, his gun wavering only slightly as he took his eyes off Sam for a split second before refocusing. “What the hell?”
“Put the guns down, both of you,” Gideon insisted as he put his own body between them. Sam was the only one he couldn‘t protect.
“Jason, get out of the way,” Dean told him as he jockeyed for a better firing position. Gideon moved with him, shielding Morgan.
Morgan didn’t appreciate the gesture either. “Damn it, Gideon, he’s still wanted for a string of murders.”
“Not anymore. I’m dead, remember?” Dean goaded, making a scary face.
“Yeah, yeah. How’d you work that? Pay off somebody at the hospital?” Morgan asked, grasping at straws for a logical answer for the apparent resurrection.
“Yeah, that’s it. You got me. I paid ‘em in the blood that was oozing out of my lifeless body,” Dean’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “Jackass.”
Sam kept his hands on his head but turned his torso slightly so he could see Dean. “Everybody just calm down,” he cautioned, a little wild-eyed himself. “I take it you two know each other?”
“Yeah, he ruined my suit.”
“It was out of fashion anyway.”
“Whatever,” Morgan snorted before allowing his gaze to travel back to Dean in puzzlement. “You keep a weapon in the bathroom?”
“Don’t you?” Dean’s voice was steady but there was still murder in his eyes.
“Dean,” Gideon breathed. He had to stop them before things got out of hand. There would be no bloodshed, none of these young men would die tonight. He trusted Morgan not to fire, he was a consummate professional, but Dean was already on the edge. Dean was the unknown. “Look at me.”
“He’s got my brother.” There was no emotion in Dean’s voice but Gideon believed he was seconds away from taking Morgan out of the picture permanently. The tension grew exponentially.
Gideon approached him carefully and put a hand on his chest. Dean was so tense it was like pushing against a granite wall. “Give me the gun,” he whispered.
Dean slowly covered Gideon’s hand with his own left hand, patting it once before twisting Gideon’s wrist and pushing his thumb into the pressure point. Gideon let out a gasp of surprise and pain as Dean forced him back behind him and to his knees. He held him there almost effortlessly, never taking his eyes, or his gun, off Morgan. “He’s got my brother,” he repeated.
“And now you have Gideon,” Morgan responded, his cool façade starting to crumble.
“No, he doesn’t,” Gideon insisted from his place on the floor trying to keep the grimace out of his voice. “Look where he put me. He’s protecting me, keeping me out of the line of fire.”
“Dean, he’s not going to shoot me,” Sam said. “Right? What’s your name? Morgan?”
“Not unless I have to.”
“And you’ll be dead before Sam hits the floor,” Dean promised coldly.
“Do you hear that, Gideon?” Morgan asked, making a point. “He means it.”
“I do mean it,” Dean confirmed.
“This is stupid,” Sam said as he lowered his hands.
“Watch it,” Morgan warned as Sam stood to tower over him even if it was inadvertently.
“Sammy!” Dean yelled in a tone that brokered no arguments.
Sam ignored him. “Put your gun down,” he told Morgan. “Please. Before my brother blows your brains out and becomes the killer you already think he is.”
“Do it, Morgan,” Gideon pleaded.
Morgan hesitated another moment before grudgingly lowering his weapon. Dean followed suit an interminable thirty seconds later. They stared each other down even as Dean released his grip on Gideon and helped pull him to his feet.
Gideon rubbed his hand distractedly as he watched Dean shove the gun into the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back and turn to grab a black tee shirt off the bed.
Still wary and more than a little bemused, Morgan holstered his weapon and glanced outside before closing the door. “So, seriously, how the hell can you be alive?” he asked as Dean tugged on the shirt as if nothing had just happened.
“I was deep undercover for the NIA,” Dean lied easily, sitting on the nearest bed and picking up a pair of worn socks from the floor. He put them on before propping himself up against the headboard since all the pillows in the room seemed to form a nest on the other bed. “By ‘killing’ me they were able to pull me out without blowing my cover.”
“Bullshit,” Morgan scoffed.
“Alrighty then,” Dean said with a smile. “You explain it.”
Morgan turned to Gideon who took a deep breath. “As near as I can tell Dean died and went to Hell where Sam here,” Gideon said with a gesture to the younger Winchester, “Who has abilities yet to be disclosed, brought him back to life through some sort of incantation.”
Sam shrugged sheepishly as Morgan turned to glare at him.
“So nobody is going to tell me,” Morgan complained as he pulled out his phone. “I guess we can hash this out in interrogation.”
“Put it away,” Dean grumbled. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Unless you plan to shoot me. And look how well that turned out last time. I just don‘t stay dead, do I?”
Morgan moved between the beds to turn on the lamp and get a better look at the supposed corpse.
Dean jumped at him. “Boo!”
“Prick,” Morgan groused, pulling back in spite of himself. Gideon wondered again how no one had ended up dead.
“What can we do to convince you?” Sam asked with the same earnest expression he‘d bowled Gideon over with at the diner. “Anything, you name it.”
Morgan threw up his hands and put his phone away but he didn’t look happy. “Keep talking.”
“No, dammit,” Dean swore at Sam, leaning forward and pointing a finger at Morgan. “We told him the truth, if he doesn’t believe it that’s his problem.”
“You can understand it’s a little… off putting,” Gideon implored Dean.
“Off putting? It’s the freaking after life, Jason,” Dean said. “You believe or you don’t believe.”
Suddenly Gideon had an inspiration. He moved to sit on the foot of the bed to address Dean. “You once told me you’d take me on a hunt if you could.”
“Not gonna happen. Did someone say pie?” Dean bounded off the bed to grab the bag he’d taken from Sam and with an afterthought the probably lukewarm coffee as well before returning to the same spot.
“That’s a great idea,” Sam chimed in looking first to Gideon and then to Dean.
“Don‘t even think about it,” Dean cut him off as he opened the bag from the diner. “So you don’t believe in Heaven?” he glanced up to ask Morgan. “What? Are you like Agnostic or Atheist or whatever?”
“Oh, I believe in Heaven. I might even believe in Hell,” Morgan said as he joined Dean on the bed to reach over and grab the paper bag. “I even believe maybe you’re headed there someday. I just don’t think you’ve already been. What? No rhubarb?”
Dean yanked the bag back, ripping it in half and spilling three clear plastic containers on the bed. “Rhubarb? No. That’s like, worse than mincemeat. Here, take the… what is that? Pecan. The apple’s mine.”
Morgan popped open the container with the pecan pie and used his fingers to lift it to his mouth mostly to keep Dean guessing, or so Gideon assumed. “Not bad,” he reported. He and Dean sized each other up, again, but at least for the moment a truce was in place.
“Why not?” Sam persisted as he took a seat on the other bed. “We can show them what we do.”
“Because I said no,” Dean told him through his first bite of apple pie which he pretended to enjoy. “Blueberry?” he offered to Gideon and then Sam. “Fine. More for me,” he said when they refused.