Set sometime in the middle of S4 of Supernatural - seals are being broken - and before Phase 2 of the MCU, in an alternate reality in which the Avengers stuck together as a team no matter what the WSC said.

Warnings for mentioned torture. Nothing graphic.

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Demons in Manhattan

It all started with a run-of-the-mill day for the Avengers. Tony was out in front of the Tower doing publicity – read: damage control – after their latest defense of the city left what could really only be classified as acid damage on three quarters of Manhattan, thanks to some lovely beasties that had hitched a ride on Thor's return trip. Since the suit was compromised due to extensive exposure to said acid, Tony had been assigned Natasha and Clint as bodyguards, with Steve in the audience incognito-style and Thor overheard. Bruce begged out and was ensconced in the upper floors of the Tower, working on puzzling out the chemical composition of the compound that the beasties exuded, and a counter to that compound.

So when a reporter stepped forward, holding something that look disturbingly like a human femur, and started reciting what sounded like Latin, almost every Avenger witnessed it. They also reacted. As the crowd screamed, Tony pulled out the handheld repulsor that he always carried when he didn't have a working suit handy, Natasha and Clint pulled out a weapon and began advancing, and Thor started swinging Mjolnir. Steve crouched and observed, knowing that his team had it handled and wanting to be able to give a full description of both the crazy guy and the situation later. Occasionally he had to gently redirect a journalist or camera-holding lackey trying to escape the crazy weirdo, but for the most part he had a clear line of sight.

He was the first to notice the black eyes when the reporter turned to smirk at the thoroughly frightened crowd behind him, although Tony's exclamation – still audible over the mic he had strapped to his tailored suit – meant that he'd obviously seen it too and was still working on believing.

Suddenly, the reporter's eyes widened and what seemed to be black smoke flooded out of his mouth. He immediately collapsed, to the Avenger's puzzlement. Phil pulled up just seconds later, gun out and eyes hard. By then, the crowd had dispersed rather promptly – New Yorkers had long ago learned that when weird shit started to go down, they needed to get the hell out of the way.

"I was notified that there was a problem. What happened? Report," Phil stated as he paced forward, eyes and gun sweeping the area, taking everything in.

Steve decided to speak up, since Thor was still in the sky and Natasha and Clint were pulling Tony inside. "Agent Coulson, sir, one of the reporters held up what appeared to be a human femur. He began reciting Latin and waving the, well, femur around."

Phil tilted his head, eyes laser-sharp. "Is there something you're not telling me, Captain?"

"Well, sir, I thought he had black eyes for a few seconds there. I'm not sure – it might have been a trick of the light. But something like black smoke definitely came out of his mouth just before you pulled up."

Steve could've sworn that he'd seen a hint of fear in Phil's eyes, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. "Thank you, Captain. Let's go up to Stark. He probably has a few things to say."

Steve nodded. "Yessir." He followed Phil into the elevator, in which Phil asked JARVIS to take them to Tony. When they stepped out Tony noticed and immediately began firing questions worded more like statements at Phil. "Agent! There you are. So this guy had black eyes, but I'm thinking some kind of illusion, possibly nanotech that AIM developed. The nanotech explains the smoky shit a little better – the bots leaving the host body. Although I don't think it's even possible to program nanobots to do what that reporter did. Apparently he's claiming he couldn't control himself, right? Claiming something possessed him or some such. Which is impossible because demons aren't real and definitely wouldn't possess a lowly reporter. Although the whole waving the human femur thing fits. Kind of macabre, am I right?"

Phil held up a hand, stopping Tony's tirade in its tracks. "Excuse me, Mr. Stark," he demurred. "I have to make a call. JARVIS, if you would turn off surveillance in the hallway I ask?"

JARVIS agreed over Tony's indignant sputters. Phil left the room for fifteen minutes, which for Steve were filled with a cacophony of Tony first trying to get JARVIS to bring surveillance back up, then trying to hack said surveillance, then sulking while watching the footage of the incident on a tablet. Natasha and Clint watched in relative silence from a couch – which meant that Natasha was cleaning her Glock and Clint was snickering at Tony's sulk.

When Phil came back, saying only "It's handled," before making to leave, Steve decided that he wanted some answers.

"Agent Coulson," he asked quietly, "I know that I at least want to know what's going on. There was a man out there with someone's femur, reciting a Latin incantation, and he had black eyes and black smoke came out of his mouth. That's weird, even for us. You seem to know what's going on, so why won't you tell us?"

Tony tried to cut in, beginning, "Yeah, I want to get some samples from that guy, see if I can figure out what was up."

Phil's face was as placid as ever when he stated, "It's been handled. No need to worry, Captain, Mr. Stark. Now if you'll excuse me." He walked out to Tony's indignant sputters and Steve's sigh.

Tony turned to Natasha, asking, "Aren't you a little curious? I mean seriously, he makes a phone call – one – and says it's handled! Like that!" He snapped his fingers.

Natasha looked at him for a few seconds before replying, "It's never been a problem before."

Clint shrugged. "Yeah. There was this one job in, shit, Oregon, right? Anyway, so we think we're going in to get a drug ring, and hell yeah there was a drug ring, but something was guarding them that even Tasha couldn't take out. And she tried, man. So we fell back, Phil made a phone call, and bada-bing, two days later and the drug ring was gone, its freaky-ass guardian beastie with it. So whoever Phil calls has some good connections."

Natasha nodded, still oiling her gun. "I trust Phil to know what he's doing. If that means extending my trust to an obviously capable third party, as long as Phil thinks that they can handle it I will accept his judgment."

Tony nodded. "Okay then. So the assassin duo is cool with it. Bruce doesn't know about it – which will change I assure you – and Thor is currently somewhere distinctly not here. Steve, what do you think?"

Steve shrugged, mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Well, if Natasha and Clint trust Phil's judgment, I suppose I do too." He didn't mention that he also had the feeling that something strange was going on. He figured that Tony didn't need the encouragement.

Tony huffed and left the room, heading down to Bruce's lab. He'll see what he thought about it before doing anything rash. Like hacking Phil's phone.

Two days later, Tony was done waiting. He'd been a good little boy; he hadn't hacked Coulson's phone. Yet. That was about to change.

Thor had murmured something about black magic and celestial forces aligning on that date when Tony'd asked what he thought about the incident, and simply remarked that he trusted the "Son of Coul" to do whatever was necessary to halt the forces at work. Hell, even Bruce had muttered something about trusting Phil between his musing about a possible reconfiguration of hydrofluoric acid crossed with boric acid and whether the beasties from the acid attacks happened to be ant-like in structure, but Tony still wanted answers. Tony Stark did not work well without all of the variables, and the mysterious phone call was a very important variable in the equation of Phil Coulson.

He was sure that he hadn't imagined JARVIS's beleaguered sigh when he commanded the AI to start the process of redialing the secret call Phil made on the day of the incident. But the AI went through with it, knowing that if he didn't do so, Tony would end up hacking the phone himself, or just finding some other way to figure out Phil's mysterious contact.

When the dial tone began, Tony punched the air. He stilled as what sounded like some old codger answered the line, voice hard. "Phil? What d'ya need now?"

Tony began, "Well, um, buddy, this isn't Phil. I'm just wondering, why would Agent call you for information about some terrorist in New York City? From what I can hear, you're some hillbilly living in the ass end of nowhere who would have no knowledge whatsoever of anything to do with anything. I mean, the accent alone–"

The codger cut him off, creatively cussing him out in multiple languages while asking what he'd done to Phil. Tony decided to ignore the "black-eyed bastard" comment that he heard, continuing, "Look, I didn't hurt Agent, you old codger. Hell, he'd probably hurt me just for thinking about attempting to hurt him. I just wanted to know why he called you and then immediately considered the problem solved. It doesn't make sense. Agent barely trusts anyone to get the job done without his immediate supervision – I consider him a glorified nanny sometimes, if you know what I mean."

The grouchy old codger on the other end just started laughing. Tony spluttered, having no earthly idea what he'd said that was so funny. "You…oh, balls, you idjit, of course Phil would call his big brother for help."

That didn't stop Tony's spluttering. In fact, that revelation simply intensified it, to the point where he was incoherent, although his hands were being very expressive, what with all the waving around they were doing. He exploded, exclaiming, "Agent doesn't have a brother, he was…he was bred in a lab. A brother would be a weakness, and Agent is documented as having no weaknesses! Seriously, stop laughing at me!"

The old codger burst out in laughter again before stating, "Tony Stark. Just as much of an idjit as Phil said ya'd be. Honored, I'm sure. Call me Bobby, kid."

Tony stopped spluttering for a few seconds. "Wait. I never told you my name."

Bobby sounded like he was smirking as he replied, "Oh, Phil said you'd call nigh on twenty hours ago. I'm sure he's surprised. Did better than he thought, that's for sure."

Tony hung up the phone. If this Bobby person really was Phil's brother, he didn't need two Coulsons…or whoevers…analyzing him. He spun around with a snort only to find Phil staring placidly at his back. But, oh, Tony knew he was laughing inside. That was Phil's laughing face.

"Mr. Stark," Phil acknowledged, "Did you enjoy speaking with Bobby?"

Tony threw his hands up. "How the hell do you manage to hide a brother? An entire flesh and blood, living brother?"

Phil shrugged. "I find it's easier when one runs away from home at a tender age, and when said big brother has the technological footprint of a technophobic, geriatric housewife." He wandered off, face just as blank as ever. Tony felt bad for a few seconds, but shrugged. He figured that if he really didn't want to share he could have spun some fantastical tale about demons tearing him away from his family when he was five years old, with the demons teaching him the art of empathy and electrokinesis, only for him to escape by exorcising his captors and being picked up by SHIELD as a teenager.

Phil walked at a sedate pace away from the Tower until he couldn't feel JARVIS's consciousness in the cameras around him. He ignored the emotions of the people around him with practiced ease, pulling out his phone. He pressed the speed dial 3 button. The line rang once then picked up.

"Dean, did you manage to stop the seal from breaking?" He paused. "Oh, Sam, sorry. Is Dean alright?"

He listened to the man on the other end for a few seconds before interjecting, "You say Castiel has him? He should be okay. I hear that angels are surprisingly good at protecting people they consider their responsibility."

He listened once again, nodding. "Well then, if the seal is still unbroken and no one's dead, I count that as a success. You sure you don't want to stop by a safehouse and rest up?"

A short pause and his face hardened. "Oh, I see, the angels need him." He paused for a few seconds before quietly stating, "Don't take unnecessary risks, Sam. Remember what the road to hell is paved with, alright?"

He nodded one more time, something dark behind his eyes as he hung up the phone. He sighed and rolled his eyes to the sky. "Castiel, I don't care how tainted you think Sam may be. He needs help, and since you're needed elsewhere that I cannot be, I'm asking you to pull him off of the road he's landed on. I don't want to have to pull him back from the edge." Phil walked away, shielding more buffered than normal. He didn't want to overwhelm any passersby with the turmoil he'd become used to hiding.

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