A/N: This is my first NCIS Fanfic. Hopefully I did all of our believed characters justice. This first chapter is more of a set up than anything. If you know your characters though, you will spot one at the end. Not mentioned by name but I still think it is obvious for those who are devoted fans…

Disclaimer: *Sighs* No these characters do not belong to me. If they did, we would not be entering season 10 with Abby and Gibbs still not together. I mean seriously? Do I have to spell it out to ya? Yes? Fine then… M-A-J-O-R, U-N-R-E-S-O-L-V-E-D, S-E-X-U-A-L T-E-N-S-I-O-N.

Just sayin'…

Also the lyrics you see below belong to Within Temptation.

Anyway…enough of my needless rambling. Onward, my dears!

Why was I one of the chosen ones?
Until the fight I could not see
The magic and the strength of my power
It was beyond my wildest dreams
Dark wings they are descending
See shadows gathering around
One by one they are falling
Every time they try to strike us down

Chapter 1: Dark Wings

This was just not my day.

I sat in the middle of my thick, silver carpeted room, black and other dark-shaded clothes scattered everywhere. It looked like a tsunami of Hot Tropic and Wet Seal had crashed into my bedroom, leaving in its wake debris of gothic nature.

Frustration washed over me. It honestly shouldn't take 50 million years to pick out an outfit. I mean, it's not like I was going to a banquet or anything. I was going to visit a friend, which, if she hadn't drastically changed since the last time I saw her, shouldn't care what I wear. And yet, I was still completely clueless on what to wear. Growling in utter irritation, I massaged my temples with my black-tipped fingers. Why was it so hard to complete such a futile task? I had no idea.

Oh, don't lie to yourself, a little voice in the back of my head whispered. You know you're just worried that she won't approve of you, that she won't like you anymore. That she forgot about you...

Ignoring the voice, I pushed myself up off the floor, and walked over to my bat-winged mirror. I gripped the edge of the dresser there as I leaned in closer. I stared into the mirror, examining my features as I always did when I needed to calm down. There was something oddly soothing about this process that I have yet to understand or explain.

The figure that stared back had vivid blue-grey eyes with long, dark lashes surrounding them, untouched by makeup. Elegant, finely-shaped eyebrows that had never met tweezers or wax were curved downward, creating an expression of concentration. Pale, snow-white skin covered her body, causing the illusion of an icy touch. Her long, auburn waves cascaded over her shoulders, ending mid-back, framed her face. High cheekbones, full lips, and a long, straight nose completed the picture.

To most, I just appear to be an extraordinarily beautiful human. It's cliché but there is just so more than meets the eye when it comes to me. I'm actually not human. At one point, I do believe I was, but now I am one of the Fallen.

The Fallen are a group of angels who have been sentenced to being on Earth. Some have chosen to become Guardians, but most have chosen to serve in Hell. I wasn't given that choice because I was created from one of them. Therefore, I am damned for all eternity. Lucky me.

Actually, in some ways I was lucky. I was blessed in the fact that I could hide my true self. The large, jet-black bat wings that grew from in between my shoulder blades, along with the black tribal tattoos that stretched across my body, could only be seen when I wanted them to be seen. Nobody can see the true me. Not unless I wanted them to, which was very, very, very rare. (Did I mention it was rare?) Like only-one-person-knows rare. Other than that one person, everyone that saw me would just think I was a regular human.

Many people had commented on my looks telling me that I should be a model. It was an almost laughable thought for me. Like I, a fallen-angel/human hybrid warrior, would fit in with those skanky, anorexic, Barbie dolls that walked on a platform for a living? Pssh. No. Besides, I highly doubted my parents would have been proud of me if I choose that path. Not like I would ever know...but I just had a gut feeling that they wouldn't approve.

Tears began to form in my eyes as I thought about my parents. When I was nine, the Change had been so horrific that my mind was completely whipped of anything prior to that. Like a chunk of my life was missing and no matter how hard I tried to remember, I couldn't. With no memories of my parents, I was left to assume that they were dead.

Brushing the tears from my eyes, I hung my head in defeated acceptance. That had been about 18 long years ago. There was no point in even trying. If those memories hadn't come back by now, they wouldn't ever.

Turning away from the mirror, I focused on the original issue; figuring out what the hell I was going to wear. My eyes scanned the super messy room, grimacing as I did so. This was going to take forever to clean up. I didn't have time to do that now though. Glancing up at the digital clock on my nightstand, I saw another 15 minutes had gone by. Definitely not. If there was a career that involved time wasting, I would be a freaking boss.

It took me about 30 minutes, but I finally figured it out. I glanced in the mirror for final approval. I wore knee-high, black boots and skin-tight, black skinny jeans that were faded around the area of my mid-thigh. A black leather belt with a bejeweled skull-and-crossbones buckle completed the lower half of my body. I had decided to wear my favorite tank top just because it made me laugh at the irony. It was black with a fanged mouth toward the top and the words "Bite me" written in blood-red letters underneath. Well, okay, it was also to show off my Watcher tattoo that every member of the Fallen possessed. (The tattoo consisted of a "W" that also could also be mistaken for the Aires symbol on the right shoulder and ring of your "specialty" located on the same arm just at the beginning of the bicep muscle. Mine were lightning bolts.) My awesome super comfy black, fingerless gloves that my best friend, Abigail "Abby" Sciuto, (who I also was visiting today) had gotten me were on my hands. Around my neck was my lightning bolt (go figure, right?) chocker necklace that I never took off. Not even in the water.

My eyes fell onto my hands, where a single, oddly shaped silver ring that I also never took off. If you looked closely enough, you could just make out the letters 'soul'. On her birthday (the last time I saw her in person), I had made her a custom ring set. There were two rings, one for me (which had "soul" on it) and one for her (which had "sister" on it). It was like one of those best friend necklaces you see in the stores all the time. When you had them separated, they just looked like two messed up circles. But when put together, they were a pair of handcuffs; magnetically linked, and practically inseparable. Exactly like us now that I think about it. Or at least at that time.

I smiled at myself in the mirror. Perfect. Maybe this day wasn't going to be so bad after all.

Turning away from the mirror, I walked over to a large picture that dominated the right wall of my bedroom. In the black, gothic-styled frame stood 2 people hugging, both smiling and laughing. Each had a hand that was shaped in half a heart and held them together in the middle. It was my most beloved picture I had. The one that could bring a smile to my face no matter what. This was the latest picture of Abby and I that I owned, sadly 5 years ago. A very long 5 years ago.

My fingers gently traced the intertwined stems of the roses that decorated the frame, unconsciously, as I stood lost in my memories. To anyone else, it would seem that way. But realistically I was allowing the sensors I built into the metal to read my fingerprints, while also entering the password I had created. A very quiet click that could only be heard by someone listening intently for it alerted me that I was in. Slowly, I swung open the frame to a numbered pad and retina scan. Quickly, I typed in the 12-digit code number and swiftly leaned into the retina scanner. I closed the picture "door" and waited. Within moments, a soft humming sound followed shortly by a faint swish emitted into the silence of the room. Turning, I strolled over to my closest, which now lacked the wall behind it, and pushed the empty hangers aside to enter the darkness. As soon as I entered the small space, the wall closed behind me, and then it was moving downward. A couple of seconds later, it stopped moving. The door opened once again and I stepped out.

"Lights on!" I called out into the darkness, clapping twice.

Immediately, light flooded into the room, slightly blinding me, but my eyes soon adjusted. I allowed myself a moment as I took in the sight that was my pride and joy. My "basement". My basement was divided into four sections: my supercar collection that consisted of around 100 supercars, all restored to perfection by my own hands; my weapons collection that had weapons of every century and every corner of the world, reinstated so that they could be used against almost any weapon used in the modern age; my extremely superior technology set up that could rival even the most advanced government agency's equipment; my armory where all of my warrior armor and accessories I used in battle were kept. If this place was to ever be discovered, it would be swarming with government agents from every nation on the globe within a few days. Easily.

It was the collection of supercars that I had been working on practically all my life. Only recently had I started to expand my weapon collection. When I was younger, I would go over to the junk yard that held all the totaled cars. With the help of some more-than-willing guys, I'd take the cars back to my house and begin repairing them to their original state. Over the course of many years, and hours of hard-work, I had repaired around 100 cars. It got to the point that I had to get another story built under my garage so that they could all fit in there. By the time I finished the "basement", I had run out of room for my weapons, so I just decided to expand the basement under the whole house instead of just the garage. Kinda like having my own personal little Bat-Cave. Well, without the bats and the cave part.

I walked over to the weapons section of the room, and quickly glanced over the displays. If I was to visit Abby, I would need to pick something light, and easy to conceal. My eyes fell on my sai weapons, the most trusted and cared for of the whole set. Virtually indestructible, they were custom-made, stainless steel blades with a black finish. The length from the tip to the handle was about 18 inches, with skulls and Celtic crosses decorating the handle. The blade itself was lethally sharp, and extraordinarily deadly if not handled correctly. Other than that, they were a pair of extremely beautiful pieces of work. Smiling slightly, I carefully took them out of their display case.

Latching them onto my boots so that could not be easily spotted, I quickly scrambled back up to my elevator, and hurried back to my room. Briefly, I revisited my dresser to make sure my sai weapons were not noticeable but were easy to get to in case of an emergency. Nodding in approval at my reflection, I whirled out of my room, and down the stairs, pausing only to lock the door behind me as I rushed to my garage. Swiftly, I tapped in the password, and entered the much smaller space. I walked over to my newest addition to the car family that I had acquired; the 2014, SSC Ultimate Aero III. One of my many connections around the country had contacted me about 6 months ago, asking if I would help them with a problem on the design of a new car for them. Apparently SSC had lost the title of having the world's fastest car, and they wanted it back. So, I went up and looked at their old version. Within two hours, I had created a different design by working in some features from other fast cars and adding them to the car while still allowing it to retain its recognizable shape. After a few months I got a call from the same person, who told me that they had broken the record and had their title back. As a thank-you present, they gave me one free of charge. I tried to put up a fight, saying that it wasn't a big deal, but they wouldn't take no for an answer.

Opening up the door (which by the way, swings upward), I stepped into my magnificently, beautiful machine. Although it was automatic, I still started it up the manual way. You can't appreciate the roar of a powerful engine in the same way if the car starts itself up. It's a golden rule. You just can't.

The garage door opened, sending golden rays of sunshine into the usually dark space. I turned on the music, choosing "Burn" by Papa Roach. I cranked up the volume and soon the lyrics filled the car. Donning on a pair of sunglasses, I put it in drive, and tore out of the driveway. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I raced to the building I desired to go; the NCIS Headquarters of Washington D.C.

After about 10 minutes of shattering speed limits, ignoring stop signs and lights, and getting honked at and flipped off numerous times, I arrived at my destination. My eyes flicked briefly over to the clock on my dashboard. 7:32. Not bad, I mused. Most likely Abby was already there. Although not a morning person, she for whatever unfathomable reason still managed to function at ridiculous times. Trust me, I know. I've known her for 18 years. She can be abnormally happy and crazily hyper with no sleep for 3 days. And that was without caffeine.

I turned into the parking lot, spotting her red Hearse almost instantaneously. It's not like it's hard to spot or anything. I pulled into the parking spot right beside hers, smiling as I did so. Just seeing her car brought back memories. Putting it in park, I swung up the door, and stepped out.

I wasn't really prepared for the sight that was waiting for me.

Everybody that was in the parking lot literally had froze in their place. People were staring openly, some with their mouths wide open, at me. I stood there confused for a second. Yes, my attire usually draws a few eyes sometimes, but never everyone's attention. That's when I realized that it wasn't me they were staring at, but my car. Glancing around, I saw that most of the cars were pick-ups or some other common car. It just hit me that I had been in such a rush this morning that I hadn't taken into account that I wanted to somewhat blend in and this car so obviously did not fit in. Oh well, too late for that.

Choosing to ignore them, I closed my door and locked it. I placed the key in my pocket, and casually strolled away like this was totally normal. As I walked past bystanders, I heard snippets of the conversations.

"Is that a-?"

"They're not even on the market yet-"

"She's somethin' too, huh?"

Smirking slightly, I approached a brown-haired Caucasian male, who had apparently dropped his coffee and donuts, upon spotting my car. He was real cute, too. As in potential-model cute. Unfortunately, he had spilled the coffee all over his pants in the process. His mouth was gaping open in speechless shock.

As I went passed, I whispered audibly while running a slender finger under his chin. "Nice going, slick."

Immediately, he straightened up and picked up his donuts. As he tried to clean himself up, I threw back my head and laughed. Today was definitely starting to lighten up a bit.

A/N: Review, my dears. Please?

Ta ta,

Dreamiest Nightmare