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Numb3rs/Supernatural Fic: Alliance, Chapter Two/9
Author: ALEO
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aleo_70Genre: 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 2 of 9
Wordcount (this chapter): 2166
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 TWO
Don decided not to drive underneath his building to his parking space suspecting that Dean wouldn’t follow him into an area that would potentially trap him even if it concealed his distinctive car from public view. Pulling into a guest spot near the public entrance instead he watched as the Impala continued on before parking in a space in the end. The space was darker than the others being furthest away from the inadequate lighting
Refusing to hesitate again, even as guilt started to gnaw at him, Don shut his SUV down and walked over to find Dean struggling to climb out of the low slung car. Pulling the door fully open Don offered his hand. After a brief pause the injured man accepted his help.
Once out of the car though Dean stubbornly pulled himself free and shoved his Colt into the front of his belt, pulling his shirt out to cover it. Supporting himself against the Impala Dean moved around to the back of his car and opened the trunk, the hinges protesting. Nervous at the delay Don couldn’t help the scan around for witnesses before he joined the other man at the trunk. Wondering what Dean need so urgently he looked in and stopped still in surprise.
Don had seen some strange things in the trunks of cars, anything and everything from dead bodies to kidnapping kits to meth labs but never anything like the arsenal that littered the Impala. There were even things clipped to the underside of what was clearly a false bottom. The guns, crossbows and knives Don could easily identify but there were other things that made less sense, wooden crosses, voodoo dolls and things that looked very much like leather medicine bags. Then there was the stuff that he simply didn’t have a clue about. With no small degree of alarm he watched as Dean started shoving various weapons and other objects, including a large container of salt and lighter fluid, into a second bag. Another bag was already waiting on the pavement.
“You really need all that?” Don demanded. Of all the items it was perhaps the salt and lighter fluid that actually concerned him the most considering what he’d seen done with them and what he’d once thought was going to be done to him.
“Yep,” Dean grunted. He made a few more selections before zipping the bag closed and hefting it out with another grunt, clearly it was heavy. He glared at the hovering agent, “That a problem?”
Don started to bristle at the challenging tone but as he opened his mouth to retort he remembered who he was about to argue with and just how deep he’d already gotten himself into the situation. The old English adage ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’ seemed very apt. The weapons and other things in the bag were no more a threat to him than the gun in Dean’s belt. Swallowing back his words he cautiously held out a hand. “It’s heavy. I’ll carry it.”
“No offence, Fed, but I got it.”
“Fine,” Don snapped. He reached instead for the other bag, finding it relatively light.
Together they headed towards the building and Don reminded himself not to be surprised as Dean pressed the button for his floor when they entered the elevator. Less than a minute later they were standing outside his apartment with Dean clearly assessing the lay of the land, noting exits and entries. He was sure though that Dean already had them memorised given the brothers’ obvious interest in him and this was more a refresher.
Once again Don found himself stalling, the empty but brightly lit hallway making what he was about to do all the more real. There was no going back once he opened his door and invited the man in. Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to harbour a man who had a permanent spot on the national FBI Most Wanted list? He turned his attention to the man waiting beside him and found Dean staring steadily back allowing the agent to make his own decision without any further pressure. He’d crossed lines before but this was a big one. Finally realising the longer they stood in the corridor the more likely they would be discovered Don shoved his key into the lock and opened the door.
“Nice,” Dean commented as he followed the agent in. “Not for me, but nice.”
Now it was Don that grunted as he closed and locked the door, sliding the chain across for good measure. He’d seen the types of hotels the brothers usually stayed in and compared to them his apartment was five star. Shaking his head he got his mind back on track as Dean made an unsteady beeline towards the couch. The thought of blood on his furniture got Don moving. Explaining away bloodstains later would be hard, assuming he managed to get out of this situation in one piece that was. “Wait, let me get a blanket.”
Putting down the bag he was carrying he went to the linen closet in the hall sorting through the shelves until he found what he needed. Dean was clearly struggling but he was still on his feet when Don returned with an old heavy woollen blanket and waited as it was spread over the couch. Dean finally dropped his heavy bag and gently eased himself down before laying back. If Don hadn’t been watching closely he would have missed the brief flash of relief before Dean schooled his face back to its usual expression.
He couldn’t just let the man suffer, or worse die on his couch. “I’m not a doctor but I’ll get my kit and see what I can do.”
“Got my own,” Dean responded, waving his hand at the bag the agent had been carrying.
That made sense, Don thought. Given the lives the brothers led a well stocked first aid kit would be just as essential as their assortment of weapons. He retrieved the bag from near his door and put it up on the coffee table. Shrugging out of his jacket he tossed it onto the other couch before rolling up his sleeves. “Can you get your shirt off?”
“I think I’ll wait until my friend gets here.”
“Friend?” Don demanded as he froze feeling that things were heading south, pretty much as he’d expected. At the moment it was just the fugitive and himself, no one else knew what he was doing and with the other man seriously wounded he had some measure of control over the situation. “I’m not having any of your friends here.”
“Don’t worry, Fed. He’s not stayin’,” Dean reassured. “Just gonna patch me up and get outta your hair.”
“No,” Don insisted as he tried to be firm. “Unless he’s a doctor-“
“He’s a witch.”
“A what?”
A cocky grin flashed across Dean’s face at the agent’s reaction followed by a wince as he shifted to make himself a little more comfortable. “Better than any doctor. I need to get back on my feet quickly so we can get Sam. Already called him, he’s gonna be here soon.”
Shaking his head Don couldn’t help repeating, “A witch.”
“Yeah, they exist too,” Dean continued clearly enjoying the moment despite his injuries. “But he’s a bit wary of cops. You might want to lose the badge.”
He found himself pulling his badge off his belt before his thoughts caught up with him. Tightening his fist around it he glared at the injured man, whatever control he thought he had over the situation was clearly not hampering Dean doing whatever the hell he wanted. Sure he could probably refuse to open his door, assuming Dean didn’t make good on his earlier threat, but that would only land him back at square one and no closer to finding The Hunter and stopping him.
The hole he was in was just getting deeper but he’d already made his decision so he just had to see it through. Shoving the badge deep into his pocket he scanned the area around him, spying a photograph Nikki had given him of himself in tac gear standing with the rest of the team after a major bust a few months back. He grabbed the offending picture and shoved it into a drawer in the kitchen. Another pass showed nothing else that could identify him as law enforcement. He suddenly felt like an interloper in his own apartment.
“Got any beer?” Dean asked hopefully. “Or whiskey?”
Don headed back to the lounge room. “Sure, but I don’t think you should have any in your condition.”
Dean’s answering grunt sounded like he didn’t agree with his host’s assessment but wasn’t going to push the point.
“You sure you don’t want me to have a look?” Don asked waving a hand at Dean’s bloodied chest.
“Nah,” Dean waved him off. “I’m good.”
The fugitive was far from good but there was nothing for it but to leave it alone. A glance at his watch didn’t help anything but the familiar movement felt reassuring. Sitting on the opposite couch he saw his fridge and Dean’s request for a beer suddenly made him thirsty. He needed a beer but he also needed to keep his wits about him so he settled for getting down to business. He was holding up his end of the bargain, it was now time for Dean to hold up his.
“What happened?”
“Now?”
“Now,” Don repeated. “You want my help to get Sam back we need to get all the info on The Hunter we can. The sooner we do that the sooner we get to your brother.”
Dean couldn’t argue with that. He lay back with a grunt. “We got here just before Best’s last kill.”
“Best?” Don interrupted, leaning forward. “You know his name?”
“You don’t?” At the agent’s glare Dean continued. “Damien Best. He’s a dick but he used to be one of us.”
“’Us’? A hunter?” Don remembered the Winchester’s term for themselves. He also realised something else. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Go figure. The papers actually got it right.”
“So he’s just like you and Sam, believes in witches and werewolves.” He squashed the thoughts that his own belief that these things didn’t exist was severely shaken.
“And everything else out there that you don’t want to believe in.” Dean added, unable to help the dig. “He used to do what we do before he went darkside.”
“Darkside?”
“Got off on the killing. Started going after real people, not just demons and monsters. Just wish we’d figured all this out before trying to trap him.” The self blame in Dean’s voice was all too clear. “We thought he’d been taken over and that we could trap and banish the demon or spirit using him as a meat suit.”
Suspending disbelief for a moment Don asked the most logical question. “You used magic on him?”
“Yeah and it seemed to be working until we got too close and he grabbed Sam and shot me.”
Don found it hard to swallow that one man had been able to take on the Winchester brothers and not only survive but take one prisoner whilst severely wounding the other. He was a good agent, well trained and field tested in both weapons and hand to hand combat but even he had barely stood a chance against just Dean with Sam otherwise distracted during their previous physical encounters. Against both brothers together he wouldn’t have even had a showing. “He’s that good?”
“Hardly,” Dean scoffed.
“You’re here,” Don got his own dig in.
“Yeah,” Dean accepted the point. “He let us think what we were doing was working. Sam got too close.”
Don could understand how that would work. It was a constant fear of his that someone would get to Charlie and would use his younger brother against him. Dean had already proven that. He moved on, “Then what happened?”
“What do you think, Fed?” Dean suddenly snapped in anger, half rising. “You think I didn’t do everything to get Sam back?”
Holding up both hands Don sat back. “Hey, easy.” Clearly the guilt at failing his younger brother was eating at the older Winchester. “Sorry. I know you tried. I can see that. How did he get away? Where did he take him?”
“You think if I knew that I’d be here?”
At the increasing anger directed his way Don conceded, “Point.”
“Damn straight, point. Stupid fed,” Dean said taking out some of his frustration. He eased himself back and stared over at the federal agent, taking some careful breaths to calm down before he continued. “I don’t know, he put me down and had Sam out cold. I didn’t see how he got away.”
He couldn’t help but feel sympathy at the emotional pain in Dean’s voice. “We’ll work it out,” he offered. “Tell me everything you can about Damien Best.”
Next chapter ... here
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Thank-you!
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One of my favorite parts of this chapter was Dean mentioning Best's name and gloating just a little when Don admitted they didn't even have that.
"Damn straight, point. Stupid fed." Oh, I loved that. Dean is so distraught over the situation and he is probably very close to losing it all over the clueless federal agent who inadvertantly implied that Dean didn't do everything he could to save his brother. Sooooo Dean! And Don's compassion is right in character, too.
I'm loving this story! I can't wait to see how Don reacts to the witch coming to his apartment!
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Are you picturing them both in the same room, one with his shirt off....?
*offers a glass of water and gently fans*
Dean can't help himself, hence the gloat. If the situation wasn't so dire I'm sure he'd enjoy the way Don flounders around them especially as he'd recognise a skilled, confident agent when he saw one.
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But it fought me several times, so hopefully it all pans out okay.
Cheers