I'm exploring a new fandom without stepping out of my comfort zone! I hope you all like it. This story is set around Supernatural 7x16, Out with the Old and somewhere in Leverage Season 5. Neither fandom belongs to me. I just like to pretend…

.~o()o~.

Nate was alone in the office the day that everything changed. They weren't in the middle of the job so the team was enjoying their night off. Sophie and Parker had been shopping all afternoon, preparing the younger girl for a fabulous night on the town. Hardison had made reservations at a very expensive, very exclusive, restaurant and had been prepping all afternoon to give his girl a night she would never forget. No one knew exactly where Eliot was. Hardison and Parker though he was probably working a side job, but Nate figured he was probably working in his newly acquired greenhouse just outside the city.

Nate was spending the night the way he always did, a dimly lit office, a glass of some type of liquor and the bottle sitting nearby, and the always present papers that gave him some idea what they were going to do next. There was nothing really crazy going on. The phone calls to the office asking for help had been tapering off in the last couple of months. Nate wasn't even sure if he had anything all in the short stack before him. Sighing, he dragged his hand over his face and poured himself another glass.

His phone rang, startling him.

"Hey, Nate," it was Joe, one of the guys they had hired to work in Hardison's microbrewery. "Some real-estate woman is here. I called Hardison but he said you could handle it."

Nate looked down at his work. "It's fine. I could use the break anyway. I'll be right down." His bottle was almost empty and he would need more to get through the night.

A dark haired woman in a bright red jacket stood waiting for him. A man, Nate assumed he was her assistant, stood nervously behind her.

Nate strode over to the woman. "What can I do for you?"

"Hello," a wide, insincere smile spread across her face. "My name is Joyce Bricklebee. I assume you must be Alec Hardison."

"Nate Ford," Nate shook her hand firmly. "But Mr Hardison has allowed me to meet with you on his behalf."

"Oh dear, I really do need to see Mt Hardison. You see, I would like to purchase this building and he must be the one to sign any paperwork."

"I'll make things a little easier on you. This building is not for sale so there is no need for any paperwork. Good night," Nate turned to walk back upstairs.

"Wait," she raised her voice impatiently. "I do really need to hear that from Mr Hardison himself. I assure you that out offer is more than fair." She then quoted a pricce that was easily double the value of the building and the land.

Nate raised an eyebrow. "I assure you that it will not do any good, but you are welcome to try. He will be in tomorrow and I am sure he will be only too happy to refuse you in person."

The woman smiled again, but her eyes were cold. "Tell your Mr Hardison that I will be back here promptly at eight."

"Make it ten," Nate smiled just as insincerely. "I doubt he will see you before then."

"Ten it is," the lady spoke through clenched teeth. "George, come!" she said imperiously before flouncing angrily out the door.

Nate watched her go with a frown. Something seemed off, more than just the pushy sales lady vibe. He had been around enough crooked dealings to know when someone wasn't quite on the level. He looked at his watch. Parker and Hardison would be finishing up dinner and starting up their after dinner entertainment. Sophie had made it clear that she wanted an evening to herself, most likely involving a bubble bath, a glass of red wine and a racy novel.

He pulled his phone out and was about to call Eliot but didn't want to pull him away from his plants if it was only paranoia. He had been hard on Eliot lately, pushing him into the leadership role more often, getting him ready to take over when Nate wanted out. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and decided to take a little walk through the neighbourhood.

He stepped out the door into the Portland night and walked along the street. He knew that a lot of businesses had been bought and sold lately, but now that he was paying attention, he could no longer write it off as coincidence. He remembered eating at the diner on the corner before the owners had sold everything and moved to Maui. The antique shop had been a great source for props for Sophie's theatre. She intended to go back for more before their "going out of business" sale ended. Looking further down, he could see the Wedding Boutique, the coffee shop and the bakery, all closed within the last month. In every single window sat a large poster with a familiar face.

"You have been busy, Mrs Bicklebee," he frowned as he looked further down and saw even more places with SOLD in big white letters in the front window.

He stopped in front of the tool shop, spying yet another notice of sale. Nate wondered what magic she had worked on Mr Marshall to make him sell. He had talked about getting rid of the place and moving somewhere warm, but Nate would have put money on the fact that he would never go through with it. This store was his entire life.

A dark figure brushed by him, coming from the side door of the building. Nate could have sworn it was that woman's assistant; Greg or something.

That was all pushed from his mind when he saw the flames glowing in the upstairs window.

He took a few seconds to call 911 but he didn't wait on the phone. He busted down the door and raced up the stairs to Marshall's living area above the shop. He was choking on smoke by the time he reached Marshall's bedroom and it only took an instant to see he was already too late.

The room itself was only smouldering, but Marshall's bed was a torrent of flame, a vaguely human shape turning to ash in the center of the blaze. He stood there in horror for only a moment before he noticed the fire eating up the carpet toward him. He turned and the door frame was already ablaze.

He gasped reflexively, inhaling a lungful of smoke, and doubled over, coughing. His eyes were streaming with tears, blinding him so he couldn't find his way through the apartment to the stairs. His mind was already growing fuzzy and dark spots started to eat up his vision.

He rubbed at his eyes, trying to find his way out but the fire was spreading inhumanly fast. It had created nearly a perfect circle around him. A dark shape leapt at him through the flames, dragging him down, closer to the floor. A wet cloth was slapped over his mouth and nose and a gravelly voice was telling him, "Follow me."

A strong hand gripped his arm, hard enough to bruise. "We've got to go fast. The flames have cut us off, but they're not thick. Trust me, Nate." The voice growled in his ear.

Nate nodded and before he could even think, the hand was dragging at him, forcing him into searing heat. Nate started to struggle but he had grown weak and was no match for the one who forced him on. Barely a moment passed and they were beyond the flames. He was forced down the stairs and out the door and then they were rolling over and over in the streets. The heat of the fire had been so great that Nate had not even noticed how much of it they had brought with him.

At last, they lay still on the road, the sound of sirens growing louder around them. Nate tried to breathe the clean air but could only gasp and choke on the smoke in his lungs. He tried to catch a glimpse of his saviour but his consciousness was leaving and the face he searched was impossible to make out with the fire as a backdrop. He reached up, hand tangling in long, wet hair and lost his grip on consciousness.

.~o()o~.

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