Gen Fic: Hell, and Back (20/24) 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
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.
Reid stretched as he woke, almost rolling off the couch. He frowned slightly as his eyes adjusted until he remembered he was at Garcia‘s place. It was already light out but the shadows inside the apartment were still deep. He squinted at his watch. It surprised him that it was almost seven o’clock. Just as he wondered if he should wake Garcia she came out of the bedroom.
“Rise and shine,” Garcia greeted breezily as she flipped opened the drapes and sent the shadows packing. She was already fully dressed and fluffed and painted and smelling so good. She was such a girl. Reid grinned at her goofily. “What?” she asked.
“What’s on the agenda this morning?” Reid asked, not about to tell her how comforting he found her womanly ways. “Do we just show up and knock on the door? Or do we call first?”
“Yeah, like they’d pick up.”
“So show up and knock on the door it is,” Reid agreed.
***
The diner waitresses were different but the cook, and probably the owner given his hours, was the same and as unpleasant as ever. Morgan was sure everyone in the place had noticed how dirty they were when they walked in but only the cook had called them on it as they waited for a table. Thus the line to the bathroom -- ‘clean up or get the hell out‘.
Morgan listened guiltily to the slew of messages on his phone as he waited in the hall while Dean was inside primping. At least he was ahead of Sam, who looked like he was asleep as he leaned against the wall with a bundle of probably equally dirty but less damp clothes he’d dug out of the Impala’s trunk.
“Gideon?” Sam asked without opening his eyes.
“I spoke to him a few minutes ago while you were selecting your wardrobe for the day. He’s going to meet us here. But that was Garcia,” Morgan informed him. “And Reid. And Garcia. And Reid... you get the idea. Actually I’m not surprised baby girl called Reid after last night.”
Sam stood up straight, now fully alert. “How is Garcia?”
Morgan shrugged. “She’s tough. But she was kidnapped and held hostage in her own home. That‘s got to have some kind of emotional impact.”
Dean chose that moment to come out of the bathroom. His arms and face were clean but his clothes still looked like he‘d been playing in the dirt. “What? When? I’ll kill some piece of...” he trailed off and eyed his culpable looking little brother. “You didn’t,” he growled. “Sam! What the fuck were you thinking?”
“I didn’t mean to scare her, I just needed to get Gideon’s number...”
“There’s no excuse for scaring civilians,” Dean cut him off as he spun up for a lecture.
“Sorry,” Morgan muttered to Sam as he ducked into the bathroom. He figured as hard as Dean had worked to rescue Sam from the well a few hours prior he probably wouldn’t kill him in a diner. Not in front of witnesses anyway. The deep rumble of Dean’s angry voice continued to filter through the door for a few minutes but it eventually went quiet.
In the meantime Morgan peed first then moved to the sink to wash up. When he looked in the mirror to clean his face he saw what Dean had recognized. A believer. Maybe that guy had always been there but this was the first time Morgan had ever acknowledged him. If life seemed different this morning it was also oddly the same.
When Morgan finished up and came out only a thoroughly chastised Sam remained in the hall. He suddenly felt sorry for the guy. He was only trying to help his brother. “You okay?” he asked. “That was some dressing down.”
“Yeah. I’m okay, I deserved it,” Sam muttered as he brushed past Morgan into the bathroom.
“This ain’t no bathhouse,” the cook leaned into the little hall to warn as Sam shut the door. “Be quick about it.”
“Yes sir,” Sam answered dejectedly.
The poor kid just couldn’t win for losing. Morgan shook his head and went back to the dining room.
The place was packed even though it was late into the breakfast rush. They still might have to wait for a table Morgan thought, but no. He spotted Dean in the far back booth already working his charm on the younger of the two waitresses as she cleaned the table from the previous customers. Instead of handing her the tip from under the ketchup bottle Dean grinned at her and tucked it into the girl’s apron. Whatever he said made her giggle enough that Morgan had to roll his eyes.
Morgan made his way over as the waitress walked away with a stack of dirty plates and a smile a mile wide. She was blushing brilliantly, not surprising with her pale skin and red hair, but she looked as if whatever Dean had said to her had made her day. It occurred to Morgan it was a good thing Dean really wasn’t a serial killer because he would have been very, very proficient at it.
“I‘m buying,” Dean told him as Morgan slid into the booth opposite him and plucked out one of the menus from behind the napkin holder. “But I’m hungry so I went ahead and ordered three of the ‘big breakfast’ and coffee. Unless you’re watching your girlish figure. Or your cholesterol, old man.”
“I’m not that much older than you and I can damn well eat anything you can eat,” Morgan replied, taking the bait if only to keep Dean engaged. Something was troubling Dean but he was a master at hiding it. Only a profiler or a brother would know. Or someone who’d seen Dean travel back to Hell in his mind. And Morgan was two of the three.
“What about Gideon?”
“He probably is watching his cholesterol. He can order when he gets here.”
“And how are you paying for this?” Morgan questioned. The one thing that still bothered him about the Winchesters was their penchant for credit card fraud and he wasn’t about to be any part of it.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” Dean soothed with a cocky grin. Sam was right, Dean could be a first class jerk when he wanted to.
“If anything takes you down it’s gonna be the credit cards,” Morgan warned low enough only Dean could hear him.
“Hey, bullets aren‘t cheap,” Dean spat back just as low. “And we gotta eat.”
“Yeah, but...”
“Hunting is a full time gig, so don’t tell me to get a job...” Dean stopped mid-sentence and looked up, his mouth falling open. If it had been anyone else Morgan would have said he looked like he’d seen a ghost. Then he tried to hide behind a menu.
Morgan felt like he was watching a train wreck as he turned.
"Hi guys. We saw the car and thought we'd..." Garcia's stopped and then she gasped as Dean peeked out from behind the menu.
“Sunny,” Dean said and guided Garcia down to the bench he‘d just vacated. He knelt beside her and fanned her with the menu Morgan handed him.
“I... oh, I...” Garcia cooed in confusion as she stared first at Dean and then at Morgan. “Deeaannn!” she finally managed, capturing his hands in hers. “But... you’re...”
He brought one of her hands to his mouth and kissed it as he shushed her. “I can explain,” he told her gently.
“Someone’s in the bathroom but I think I can wait,” Reid complained as he joined them, walking up behind Dean without really seeing him. “What’s going on?” he asked as he took in the scene. When Dean looked up to meet his gaze Reid took an involuntary step back. “How?” was all he got out.
“Easy, Reid,” Morgan cautioned. He got up and caught him by the arm to tug him closer, eventually seating him across from Garcia. “There’s a very good explanation for this.”
“Yeah, sure there is,” Dean agreed, actually letting Morgan take the lead. The bastard. “Tell ‘em.”
“So there’s still going to be four of you?” the waitress asked as she brought over cups and silverware. “Or five.”
Sam walked up behind the waitress and gritted his teeth when he saw what was going on. “Uh oh,” he muttered from over her shoulder, sharing a slightly panicked look with Dean.
“Actually it looks like there might be six of us,” Morgan corrected. “I think we’re going to need a bigger table.”
“Oh. Well here’s a private room in the back for meetings and stuff but I‘ll have to ask Stanley...”
“That sounds perfect,” Morgan told her as Garcia started to breath a little funny as she took Dean‘s face between her hands. “In fact the sooner we could get back there the better.”
They had the attention of a lot of people and nobody seemed to be eating.
“What the hell’s going on out here?” the cook asked as he came out of the kitchen. “What are you doing to that girl?”
“It’s my sister,” Dean announced to the room in general as he stood up. “I just got back from Iraq and I guess I should have gone right home but it was the middle of the night so me and my buds went mudding and... well, she ruined my surprise.” He smiled and shrugged and everybody in the whole damn place bought his ‘aw shucks‘ routine.
“I thought you were dead,” Garcia stammered, tearing up as she pulled Dean back down to her.
“I know. I’m sorry,” Dean told her sincerely as he kissed her forehead.
There was some oh-ing and aw-ing around them as people got back to their own business. The waitress got choked up and even the cook softened. “We got us a war hero here?” he asked, his voice still gruff but for a different reason.
“I ain’t no hero,” Dean denied.
“That’s bull,” Morgan told the cook honestly . “This man is a hero if I ever met one.”
“Don’t just stand there, Charlene, get ‘em the conference room,” the cook ordered as he charged back to the kitchen. “Breakfast is on me.” He stopped then and made a clarification. “Not all of ‘em, just the hero.”
“You’re all heart, Stanley,” the waitress called after him. “Ya’ll come on this way. We’ll get you set up in the back.”
They fell in line behind her, Dean escorting Garcia and Morgan leading Reid who was about to explode with questions. Sam brought up the rear and motioned to Gideon to join them as he came in the front door.
“Uh oh,” Gideon said simply. He put his hands in his pockets and followed.
***
Sam thought the ‘conference room’ moniker fit the small, windowless enclosure about as well as Gideon’s ‘coffee shop’ designation fit the old diner. There was a four by six foot area of open space near the door but a large round table took up most of the back of the room. In fact it left just enough space to squeeze in around the chairs. But it was private and right now that was all they really needed. That, or get in the Impala and ride away leaving Dean right back where he started. And that was no option at all.
The problem with the layout of the room was more than just the cramped space providing no real place to put his legs, Sam dealt with that scenario on a regular basis since he was like fifteen. Mostly getting trapped between the table and the wall had to do with one particular lesson that had been drilled into them growing up; always leave yourself a quick exit.
Sam hung back to let some of the shorter people find their way around the table but at the moment breakfast was a non-issue. Everyone was too busy either freaking out over Dean not being dead, or trying to control the level of freak out. Even at four against two by Sam’s count the freak...ees seemed to be winning. No one was even trying to find a seat.
“How is this possible?” The skinny FBI dude blurted out before Charlene even left. “Is it really you?” he asked Dean. “I mean, you are corporeal, aren’t you? Or are you some kind of apparition or... or.... specter? Doppelganger? Familiar?”
Dean cleared his throat and smiled quickly at Charlene as she looked up from wiping the dust off the table. “That’s funny,” Dean said, dropping the smile abruptly as he turned to the guy. “Doppelganger. That’s a good one, Reid.”
So that was Reid. He didn’t look so smart with his mouth hanging open. Sam doubted Charlene had any idea what super genius was talking about but agreed it might be a good idea to shut him up. He sent a warning look to Dean who in turn shot a pleading one to Gideon.
Then Dean handed Sunny -- Sam just couldn’t think of her as Garcia -- off to Morgan and surprisingly she went without a fuss. Sam had to assume the two were close even though Morgan apparently called her by her last name just like everyone else did.
“Come here, baby girl.” Or maybe he didn’t always. Interesting.
“I don’t understand what‘s happening,” Sunny began but opted to bury her head in Morgan’s chest when he wrapped his arms around her and shushed the top of her head.
“Let’s all sit down,” Gideon suggested. Firmly. Sam put his hand on an outside chair, claiming it, but no one else moved.
“No,” Reid refused, physically as well as metaphorically digging in his heels as Gideon tried to propel him towards the table. Sam could practically see the wheels spinning in his head. “Just wait. I need to understand...”
“Reid,” Gideon interrupted, indicating the waitress with a slight inclination of his head.
“But this is historic!” Reid exclaimed as another younger, redheaded waitress brought in a tray with a pot of coffee, silverware, and cups.
Great. An even bigger audience. Sam thought about asking if the place had a PA system so they could share the experience with the rest of the customers but that probably wasn’t necessary since Reid was getting louder by the minute. Tess, according to her nametag, stopped in the door transfixed by Reid’s exuberance.
“This is... this is... this will change the world!”
Enough was enough. Dean moved in and caught Reid under the arm and attempted to hustle him out of the room. “I thought you had to pee?”
But the maneuver backfired as Reid gasped and grabbed Dean back. “You are alive. It really is you.” He patted Dean’s shoulder with affection tempered by awe followed by an equally awkward hug.
Dean nodded and hugged him back, giving Sam a looked that dared him to ever mention it again over Reid’s shoulder.
“I’ve got him,” Gideon told Dean as he reeled Reid by with the other elbow. “Outside. Now.”
“But...” Reid protested, still staring at Dean as Gideon pulled him away. “It’s really him.”
“I know,” Gideon assured with the patience of a saint as he propelled Reid out of the room. “Let’s go talk about it, just you and me.”
“How sweet,” Sam ribbed. He couldn’t help it and even if he could Dean totally expected it. He didn’t want to disappoint him.
“Don’t start,” Dean warned tersely as he stole the chair Sam had been about to sit in.
Finally Morgan seated Sunny next to Dean then went around the opposite way to sit on her other side ending up between the table and the wall. Apparantly they didn't teach the art of egress at the FBI.
“Do you folks need a few minutes to look at the menu?” Tess asked as Charlene helped her fill the cups and pass them out.
“Big Breakfasts all around,” Dean instructed as he took a cup of coffee and began to pour sugar into it. “White toast and sausage.” He added a wink and Tess lit up.
“I’ll get that order in right away,” Tess said a little too breathily to be anything but a put on. Charlene shook her head and followed her out.
Sam knew the simple order was to get the waitresses out of the room as quickly as possible but he started to object anyway. The smell from the well still lingered in his nostrils and he didn’t really feel like anything too heavy. But he also knew Dean was pissed about the thing with Sunny so he decided not to rock the boat.
“Hi,” he said when he realized Sunny was staring right at him as he took the chair next to Dean. “Listen, I am really sorry about last night.”
“I understand,” Sunny accepted benevolently but then let her gaze travel over to Dean. “I mean I don’t understand but I know why you did it.”
Dean turned to Morgan with a look Sam knew all too well. It was a challenge. The ball was in Morgan’s court and Sam found himself holding his breath to see where, or if, he’d hit it.
“Winchester was deep undercover for the NIA,” Morgan lied smoothly, keeping his voice low. “By ‘killing’ him they were able to pull him out without blowing his cover.”
Sam raised an eyebrow and shared a nod with Dean. If nothing else, Morgan paid attention. They would do well to stay out of his crosshairs.
“I can’t tell you why I needed Morgan’s help,” Dean picked the story right up, “And for my safety, as well as Sam’s, I need you to keep this whole thing a secret.”
“Of course! You don’t even have to ask,” Sunny promised. “My lips are sealed.” She pantomimed zipping her lips, locking them, and throwing away the key.
“That’s my girl,” Dean approved, taking her hand.
“Uh uh,” Morgan objected playfully as he put an arm around her shoulders. “I saw her first.”
“Boys, please,” Sunny gushed with a gleam in her eye, reminding Sam a little of Mae West. “There’s enough of me to go around.”
They all laughed and Sam smiled right along with them. Dean said they had treated him well in those dark last days. They were good people, all of them. And maybe, just maybe Gideon really could help. At least he was willing to try. Dean would be the immovable object. Sam would just have to be the irresistible force. So. Business as usual then.
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
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.
Reid stretched as he woke, almost rolling off the couch. He frowned slightly as his eyes adjusted until he remembered he was at Garcia‘s place. It was already light out but the shadows inside the apartment were still deep. He squinted at his watch. It surprised him that it was almost seven o’clock. Just as he wondered if he should wake Garcia she came out of the bedroom.
“Rise and shine,” Garcia greeted breezily as she flipped opened the drapes and sent the shadows packing. She was already fully dressed and fluffed and painted and smelling so good. She was such a girl. Reid grinned at her goofily. “What?” she asked.
“What’s on the agenda this morning?” Reid asked, not about to tell her how comforting he found her womanly ways. “Do we just show up and knock on the door? Or do we call first?”
“Yeah, like they’d pick up.”
“So show up and knock on the door it is,” Reid agreed.
***
The diner waitresses were different but the cook, and probably the owner given his hours, was the same and as unpleasant as ever. Morgan was sure everyone in the place had noticed how dirty they were when they walked in but only the cook had called them on it as they waited for a table. Thus the line to the bathroom -- ‘clean up or get the hell out‘.
Morgan listened guiltily to the slew of messages on his phone as he waited in the hall while Dean was inside primping. At least he was ahead of Sam, who looked like he was asleep as he leaned against the wall with a bundle of probably equally dirty but less damp clothes he’d dug out of the Impala’s trunk.
“Gideon?” Sam asked without opening his eyes.
“I spoke to him a few minutes ago while you were selecting your wardrobe for the day. He’s going to meet us here. But that was Garcia,” Morgan informed him. “And Reid. And Garcia. And Reid... you get the idea. Actually I’m not surprised baby girl called Reid after last night.”
Sam stood up straight, now fully alert. “How is Garcia?”
Morgan shrugged. “She’s tough. But she was kidnapped and held hostage in her own home. That‘s got to have some kind of emotional impact.”
Dean chose that moment to come out of the bathroom. His arms and face were clean but his clothes still looked like he‘d been playing in the dirt. “What? When? I’ll kill some piece of...” he trailed off and eyed his culpable looking little brother. “You didn’t,” he growled. “Sam! What the fuck were you thinking?”
“I didn’t mean to scare her, I just needed to get Gideon’s number...”
“There’s no excuse for scaring civilians,” Dean cut him off as he spun up for a lecture.
“Sorry,” Morgan muttered to Sam as he ducked into the bathroom. He figured as hard as Dean had worked to rescue Sam from the well a few hours prior he probably wouldn’t kill him in a diner. Not in front of witnesses anyway. The deep rumble of Dean’s angry voice continued to filter through the door for a few minutes but it eventually went quiet.
In the meantime Morgan peed first then moved to the sink to wash up. When he looked in the mirror to clean his face he saw what Dean had recognized. A believer. Maybe that guy had always been there but this was the first time Morgan had ever acknowledged him. If life seemed different this morning it was also oddly the same.
When Morgan finished up and came out only a thoroughly chastised Sam remained in the hall. He suddenly felt sorry for the guy. He was only trying to help his brother. “You okay?” he asked. “That was some dressing down.”
“Yeah. I’m okay, I deserved it,” Sam muttered as he brushed past Morgan into the bathroom.
“This ain’t no bathhouse,” the cook leaned into the little hall to warn as Sam shut the door. “Be quick about it.”
“Yes sir,” Sam answered dejectedly.
The poor kid just couldn’t win for losing. Morgan shook his head and went back to the dining room.
The place was packed even though it was late into the breakfast rush. They still might have to wait for a table Morgan thought, but no. He spotted Dean in the far back booth already working his charm on the younger of the two waitresses as she cleaned the table from the previous customers. Instead of handing her the tip from under the ketchup bottle Dean grinned at her and tucked it into the girl’s apron. Whatever he said made her giggle enough that Morgan had to roll his eyes.
Morgan made his way over as the waitress walked away with a stack of dirty plates and a smile a mile wide. She was blushing brilliantly, not surprising with her pale skin and red hair, but she looked as if whatever Dean had said to her had made her day. It occurred to Morgan it was a good thing Dean really wasn’t a serial killer because he would have been very, very proficient at it.
“I‘m buying,” Dean told him as Morgan slid into the booth opposite him and plucked out one of the menus from behind the napkin holder. “But I’m hungry so I went ahead and ordered three of the ‘big breakfast’ and coffee. Unless you’re watching your girlish figure. Or your cholesterol, old man.”
“I’m not that much older than you and I can damn well eat anything you can eat,” Morgan replied, taking the bait if only to keep Dean engaged. Something was troubling Dean but he was a master at hiding it. Only a profiler or a brother would know. Or someone who’d seen Dean travel back to Hell in his mind. And Morgan was two of the three.
“What about Gideon?”
“He probably is watching his cholesterol. He can order when he gets here.”
“And how are you paying for this?” Morgan questioned. The one thing that still bothered him about the Winchesters was their penchant for credit card fraud and he wasn’t about to be any part of it.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” Dean soothed with a cocky grin. Sam was right, Dean could be a first class jerk when he wanted to.
“If anything takes you down it’s gonna be the credit cards,” Morgan warned low enough only Dean could hear him.
“Hey, bullets aren‘t cheap,” Dean spat back just as low. “And we gotta eat.”
“Yeah, but...”
“Hunting is a full time gig, so don’t tell me to get a job...” Dean stopped mid-sentence and looked up, his mouth falling open. If it had been anyone else Morgan would have said he looked like he’d seen a ghost. Then he tried to hide behind a menu.
Morgan felt like he was watching a train wreck as he turned.
"Hi guys. We saw the car and thought we'd..." Garcia's stopped and then she gasped as Dean peeked out from behind the menu.
“Sunny,” Dean said and guided Garcia down to the bench he‘d just vacated. He knelt beside her and fanned her with the menu Morgan handed him.
“I... oh, I...” Garcia cooed in confusion as she stared first at Dean and then at Morgan. “Deeaannn!” she finally managed, capturing his hands in hers. “But... you’re...”
He brought one of her hands to his mouth and kissed it as he shushed her. “I can explain,” he told her gently.
“Someone’s in the bathroom but I think I can wait,” Reid complained as he joined them, walking up behind Dean without really seeing him. “What’s going on?” he asked as he took in the scene. When Dean looked up to meet his gaze Reid took an involuntary step back. “How?” was all he got out.
“Easy, Reid,” Morgan cautioned. He got up and caught him by the arm to tug him closer, eventually seating him across from Garcia. “There’s a very good explanation for this.”
“Yeah, sure there is,” Dean agreed, actually letting Morgan take the lead. The bastard. “Tell ‘em.”
“So there’s still going to be four of you?” the waitress asked as she brought over cups and silverware. “Or five.”
Sam walked up behind the waitress and gritted his teeth when he saw what was going on. “Uh oh,” he muttered from over her shoulder, sharing a slightly panicked look with Dean.
“Actually it looks like there might be six of us,” Morgan corrected. “I think we’re going to need a bigger table.”
“Oh. Well here’s a private room in the back for meetings and stuff but I‘ll have to ask Stanley...”
“That sounds perfect,” Morgan told her as Garcia started to breath a little funny as she took Dean‘s face between her hands. “In fact the sooner we could get back there the better.”
They had the attention of a lot of people and nobody seemed to be eating.
“What the hell’s going on out here?” the cook asked as he came out of the kitchen. “What are you doing to that girl?”
“It’s my sister,” Dean announced to the room in general as he stood up. “I just got back from Iraq and I guess I should have gone right home but it was the middle of the night so me and my buds went mudding and... well, she ruined my surprise.” He smiled and shrugged and everybody in the whole damn place bought his ‘aw shucks‘ routine.
“I thought you were dead,” Garcia stammered, tearing up as she pulled Dean back down to her.
“I know. I’m sorry,” Dean told her sincerely as he kissed her forehead.
There was some oh-ing and aw-ing around them as people got back to their own business. The waitress got choked up and even the cook softened. “We got us a war hero here?” he asked, his voice still gruff but for a different reason.
“I ain’t no hero,” Dean denied.
“That’s bull,” Morgan told the cook honestly . “This man is a hero if I ever met one.”
“Don’t just stand there, Charlene, get ‘em the conference room,” the cook ordered as he charged back to the kitchen. “Breakfast is on me.” He stopped then and made a clarification. “Not all of ‘em, just the hero.”
“You’re all heart, Stanley,” the waitress called after him. “Ya’ll come on this way. We’ll get you set up in the back.”
They fell in line behind her, Dean escorting Garcia and Morgan leading Reid who was about to explode with questions. Sam brought up the rear and motioned to Gideon to join them as he came in the front door.
“Uh oh,” Gideon said simply. He put his hands in his pockets and followed.
***
Sam thought the ‘conference room’ moniker fit the small, windowless enclosure about as well as Gideon’s ‘coffee shop’ designation fit the old diner. There was a four by six foot area of open space near the door but a large round table took up most of the back of the room. In fact it left just enough space to squeeze in around the chairs. But it was private and right now that was all they really needed. That, or get in the Impala and ride away leaving Dean right back where he started. And that was no option at all.
The problem with the layout of the room was more than just the cramped space providing no real place to put his legs, Sam dealt with that scenario on a regular basis since he was like fifteen. Mostly getting trapped between the table and the wall had to do with one particular lesson that had been drilled into them growing up; always leave yourself a quick exit.
Sam hung back to let some of the shorter people find their way around the table but at the moment breakfast was a non-issue. Everyone was too busy either freaking out over Dean not being dead, or trying to control the level of freak out. Even at four against two by Sam’s count the freak...ees seemed to be winning. No one was even trying to find a seat.
“How is this possible?” The skinny FBI dude blurted out before Charlene even left. “Is it really you?” he asked Dean. “I mean, you are corporeal, aren’t you? Or are you some kind of apparition or... or.... specter? Doppelganger? Familiar?”
Dean cleared his throat and smiled quickly at Charlene as she looked up from wiping the dust off the table. “That’s funny,” Dean said, dropping the smile abruptly as he turned to the guy. “Doppelganger. That’s a good one, Reid.”
So that was Reid. He didn’t look so smart with his mouth hanging open. Sam doubted Charlene had any idea what super genius was talking about but agreed it might be a good idea to shut him up. He sent a warning look to Dean who in turn shot a pleading one to Gideon.
Then Dean handed Sunny -- Sam just couldn’t think of her as Garcia -- off to Morgan and surprisingly she went without a fuss. Sam had to assume the two were close even though Morgan apparently called her by her last name just like everyone else did.
“Come here, baby girl.” Or maybe he didn’t always. Interesting.
“I don’t understand what‘s happening,” Sunny began but opted to bury her head in Morgan’s chest when he wrapped his arms around her and shushed the top of her head.
“Let’s all sit down,” Gideon suggested. Firmly. Sam put his hand on an outside chair, claiming it, but no one else moved.
“No,” Reid refused, physically as well as metaphorically digging in his heels as Gideon tried to propel him towards the table. Sam could practically see the wheels spinning in his head. “Just wait. I need to understand...”
“Reid,” Gideon interrupted, indicating the waitress with a slight inclination of his head.
“But this is historic!” Reid exclaimed as another younger, redheaded waitress brought in a tray with a pot of coffee, silverware, and cups.
Great. An even bigger audience. Sam thought about asking if the place had a PA system so they could share the experience with the rest of the customers but that probably wasn’t necessary since Reid was getting louder by the minute. Tess, according to her nametag, stopped in the door transfixed by Reid’s exuberance.
“This is... this is... this will change the world!”
Enough was enough. Dean moved in and caught Reid under the arm and attempted to hustle him out of the room. “I thought you had to pee?”
But the maneuver backfired as Reid gasped and grabbed Dean back. “You are alive. It really is you.” He patted Dean’s shoulder with affection tempered by awe followed by an equally awkward hug.
Dean nodded and hugged him back, giving Sam a looked that dared him to ever mention it again over Reid’s shoulder.
“I’ve got him,” Gideon told Dean as he reeled Reid by with the other elbow. “Outside. Now.”
“But...” Reid protested, still staring at Dean as Gideon pulled him away. “It’s really him.”
“I know,” Gideon assured with the patience of a saint as he propelled Reid out of the room. “Let’s go talk about it, just you and me.”
“How sweet,” Sam ribbed. He couldn’t help it and even if he could Dean totally expected it. He didn’t want to disappoint him.
“Don’t start,” Dean warned tersely as he stole the chair Sam had been about to sit in.
Finally Morgan seated Sunny next to Dean then went around the opposite way to sit on her other side ending up between the table and the wall. Apparantly they didn't teach the art of egress at the FBI.
“Do you folks need a few minutes to look at the menu?” Tess asked as Charlene helped her fill the cups and pass them out.
“Big Breakfasts all around,” Dean instructed as he took a cup of coffee and began to pour sugar into it. “White toast and sausage.” He added a wink and Tess lit up.
“I’ll get that order in right away,” Tess said a little too breathily to be anything but a put on. Charlene shook her head and followed her out.
Sam knew the simple order was to get the waitresses out of the room as quickly as possible but he started to object anyway. The smell from the well still lingered in his nostrils and he didn’t really feel like anything too heavy. But he also knew Dean was pissed about the thing with Sunny so he decided not to rock the boat.
“Hi,” he said when he realized Sunny was staring right at him as he took the chair next to Dean. “Listen, I am really sorry about last night.”
“I understand,” Sunny accepted benevolently but then let her gaze travel over to Dean. “I mean I don’t understand but I know why you did it.”
Dean turned to Morgan with a look Sam knew all too well. It was a challenge. The ball was in Morgan’s court and Sam found himself holding his breath to see where, or if, he’d hit it.
“Winchester was deep undercover for the NIA,” Morgan lied smoothly, keeping his voice low. “By ‘killing’ him they were able to pull him out without blowing his cover.”
Sam raised an eyebrow and shared a nod with Dean. If nothing else, Morgan paid attention. They would do well to stay out of his crosshairs.
“I can’t tell you why I needed Morgan’s help,” Dean picked the story right up, “And for my safety, as well as Sam’s, I need you to keep this whole thing a secret.”
“Of course! You don’t even have to ask,” Sunny promised. “My lips are sealed.” She pantomimed zipping her lips, locking them, and throwing away the key.
“That’s my girl,” Dean approved, taking her hand.
“Uh uh,” Morgan objected playfully as he put an arm around her shoulders. “I saw her first.”
“Boys, please,” Sunny gushed with a gleam in her eye, reminding Sam a little of Mae West. “There’s enough of me to go around.”
They all laughed and Sam smiled right along with them. Dean said they had treated him well in those dark last days. They were good people, all of them. And maybe, just maybe Gideon really could help. At least he was willing to try. Dean would be the immovable object. Sam would just have to be the irresistible force. So. Business as usual then.